#like i have little moments of calm where i just lose myself in reels or in music...

[peachyberryji]

[7:28p]

[skiyoosmi]

if fate permits

⤷ chapter twenty three: seesaw

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Eerie. If there was one word to describe your current situation with Atsumu, that would exactly be the perfect term for it. As you sat across one another in a booth in a restaurant that Osamu apparently found for him (he says it’s the “best place” for the both of you to properly make up, you called it the “Osamu utters another bullshit” place), you find yourself unequipped of words to tell him, something you found odd considering you never had any dull or awkward moment with him. Well, at least not until our feelings got in the way, you thought, letting out a quiet sigh as you poked your food with the fork, completely aware of the stare that the blonde holds on you.

He fidgets in his seat, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to form his words because what else can he say aside from apologies (that he thinks are probably useless given that right after saying sorry, he finds another way to hurt you)? He doesn’t really have any other choice though so he takes a deep breath and begins his sentence, “YN, I’m really so-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence or I might just stab you with this,” you cut him off, waving the fork you were holding in his face, snickering at his wide eyes that was accompanied by a large gulp. You put it down and place your chin on your hand, leaning your head towards it as you stared him down (more like glare, in his perspective), “Just wanna let you know, this will be the last apology I’ll ever get and accept.”

Observing the confusion that became more and more evident in his face, you continue, “Because if you hurt me one more time, then that’s it. I’m really gonna cut off my ties with you because that just proves to me that everything about this,” you gesture towards you and him, “is not meant to be… as friends.”

Not even as soulmates. In a pathetic attempt to make everything seem like it’s fine, you grab the glass that was right by your arm; the harsh flow of cold water down your throat is not even close to beating the suffocation of the truth that dawned upon you. How ironic - everything is just a cycle that keeps on repeating over and over again yet for some reason, the agony remains all the same. It never gets less and if anything, becomes more to the point that it just torments you every single moment of your breath. Always so pathetic, YN, always.

“YN…” he trails off but you hold your hand up, letting him know that you were not yet finished.

“So, make sure that this is the last. You know we both deserve so much more than a friendship that keeps on pulling and pushing us. We weren’t like this before, Atsumu,” you state as a matter of fact, sadly smiling as he bowed his head down, “what happened to us?”

Deep down, you already knew the answer to your question. No matter how much you wanted to deny it, deny her entire existence, you can’t. Because that would mean denying Atsumu and the happiness he desires. Yet at the same time, you just can’t let go of him. 

“Yui happened,” he whispers, “I just… it’s inexcusable, the way I kept on pushing ya aside and hurting ya because of her… but I just… I thought she was her yanno? For as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to meet my soulmate and Yui was just so bright and nice and I guess I got this hope in me that maybe she’s her… but she wasn’t and it’s so frustrating.” 

The disappointment and sadness in his face squeezed your heart that thumped against your chest, the longingness that had always resided within you struggling to get out and give him a hug. As he spilled his heart out to you, you couldn’t help the guilt that began spreading in your mind, he wasn’t the coward; you were. 

“It feels so frustrating to be so clueless every single time. I guess that’s why I took it out on ya, because I felt somewhat jealous that ya can see the threads and I can’t and for the rest of my life, I’ll be lost, wondering who my true soulmate is. And the fact that yer leaving me soon too… everything’s just so messy inside me, yanno? So I’m sorry for that, YN. I’m not excusing myself from the pain nor am I dismissing yer feelings but I hope ya understand where I’m coming from too,” he quietly speaks, fiddling with his fingers.

“Atsumu… I-”

“I said that but YN, I think I’m done waiting for my soulmate. I… I don’t want to seem selfish but… it has been too long of waiting… I’ve always tried to find them myself even though I don’t have abilities like yours. Thinking about it now, maybe they just don’t want to be found? Because if they did know me, wouldn’t they have told me right at the moment they met me? So, can’t you just cut off my thread please?”

And right at that moment, you felt your heart plummet down to the deepest and darkest abyss of your insides. He’s given up and you still can’t bring yourself to tell him the truth. I don’t want to give you up, please, not yet… You want to beg him; to just give you a little bit more time, a little bit more courage, a little bit more attention in hopes that he’ll see. Please, just look at me, look at me and you’ll find what you’ve been looking for, Tsum. 

But the desperation in his face reels you back to the reality that he doesn’t want you; he wants some other girl, someone who can never be you and you find your heart being engulfed with bitterness so you scoff and stand up, “This bullshit again? You’re making me lose my appetite and I am not about to have this conversation with you, Miya Atsumu. ”

He gapes at you, obviously surprised with the sudden change of mood. It was already going good a while ago but perhaps, it was the calm before the storm, ready to ruin the both of you, “YN! Wait up! Stop! Come back here!” 

He’s able to grab your wrist as soon as you get out of the restaurant, “Hey! Come on, I’m pretty sure the aftermath wouldn’t be that bad! Ya don’t need to be so uptight,” he pants. He never knew you can run that fast. But that’s totally not important at the moment because he can literally see steam coming out of your ears as you took a deep breath and turned around, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“Uptight?! I’m in no way being uptight right now, Miya Atsumu! What you’re asking is… is dumb… outrageous… or nonsensical… AND dangerous!” you screamed, stuttering out of disbelief as the lad only looked at you with amusement. He chuckled; as much as he didn’t want to, he found your little tantrum cute. Your head whipped once again to his direction upon hearing his laugh, “you’re laughing?! Do you think asking me to cut off your thread is funny? You’re fucking ridiculous! Do you even know the consequences? Do you have no care for your soulmate?”

The grin leaves his face as he watches your eyes start to slowly but surely well up with tears, “Did you invite me just for this? Is this all you think our friendship is for? Jokes? Or the fact that I’m a fucking Moira who can fix your soulmate issues? I’m supposed to be your best friend before anything else, am I not?”

“Wait, no, YN… you know that’s not-”

“Because if you do think that way, you wouldn’t have thought about this in the first place because you’d know how much I despise cutting someone’s thread - have you even tried to think of what your soulmate will think? What would happen if she finds her thread cut off? You think she’d laugh too? She’ll just wake up one day with her thread being black, not even knowing what hap-”

“But she’s not here!” he screams, head down before he looked up, rage swimming in his eyes that even up to now, you still love, “She’s not here. And you’ve never even tried helping me find her so what makes you think you have a say on whether or not I should give up on meeting her? I’ve always asked for your help, didn’t I? But what? Every single fucking time, you reject the idea of me meeting her like it’s a plaque that will kill you.”

That’s because she’s always been here, I’ve always been here, idiot… is what you want to say but the painful truth of his words stopped you from retaliating further.

“She can find a new soulmate too! Y/N… please, I’m 100% serious about wanting to do this,” by now, any joke and teasing were gone from his voice as he begged the girl in front of him. But you were even more stubborn than him so you shook your head and crossed your arms, remaining firm on your stand.

“No. Stop being selfish, Tsum. It’s not always about your ‘needs’ and ‘wants.’ Breaking the bond… is something we mustn’t do, as much as possible. You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret; I won’t let you,” you whispered, clutching sides of your skirt. Atsumu didn’t know what happened to him after that or why he stupidly chose to open his mouth again.

“You’re the one who’s being a selfish bitch, Y/N. Just because ya can’t find your soulmate and yer happiness, doesn’t mean we can’t too. You’re so needy that you can’t let us be happy without ya. I wonder what the gods thought when they gave you that power? Stupid gods, they can’t even do one thing right; giving it to a coward and a selfish bitch who can’t even cut her best friend’s thread for the sake of his happiness…” it was the crestfallen look plastered on your face that made him stop as soon as he saw it. Realization dawned upon him and immediately, he tried reaching out to you with his hand. 

Ah, I give up.

“It’s okay…” you choked, pulling back from him and taking a deep breath, no longer giving any effort to stop the tears that now freely flowed down your cheeks, “I understand. I’m sorry that I care for you then.”

He opens his mouth, ready to say yet another apology but he knows… he knows it was futile now. He watches you as you hastily wipe your cheeks from any tear stain but they kept on coming so you felt yourself get frustrated even more. Stop being so pathetic for once, YN, for god’s sake!

“You know, Atsumu? I always feel like we’re in a seesaw that just never stays balanced. It’s either one of us is on the top while the other’s down and it just… gets so fucking tiring trying to understand you.” You took a deep breath, pursing your lips as you finally felt the courage within you. It’s a little bit late for it to come, isn’t it?

“You want to know why I never told you about my soulmate’ Because I’ve found him a long fucking time ago. But he can’t even be honest to himself that he at least feels something for me. He chooses to be blind with all the possibilities we could have if he just chooses to cross the line, even for just a little bit… right? Cause be fucking honest, Atsumu, it doesn’t even matter if I told you or not. Either way, you’re never gonna love me the same way I’ve always loved you. It’s quite funny, honestly, I’ve never told you because I wanted you to love me, not because I’m your soulmate but because I was YN. But I never expected that it would be the very reason why I can’t have you… because I’m just YN.” You let out what seems like a laugh but the waver in your voice failed to deliver that.

“... So don’t tell me I’m needy and selfish because if I were, I would’ve told you the moment I met you that it was you. But I didn’t want to lose you, so I thought it was okay. I can deal with the pain if it meant I can keep you beside me and not risk anything…” you trail off, “... but I’m just… I’m done pretending I can keep being on this playground with you.”

You took out the red scissors that you’ve loathed so much, nearing it to your threads as he stayed still in disbelief of everything that has been revealed to him seconds ago, “I love you, Tsum..... I only wish for you to be happy so… don’t ever regret this, okay?”

Atsumu looks at you and at that moment, he just knows… that for the rest of his life, he’ll remember the broken smile you gave him as you finally cut the thread that has connected you to him for the past years.

Don’t regret anything, Tsum…

“Because I won’t.”

I won’t even remember a single thing about you.

note. ah… at last we have come to the beginning of the end. two words from me to you: i’m sorry.

[roger-that-cap]

tolerate it

part 2/2 of cardigan!

so, this is the follow up to my first ever one shot (guess not anymore LMAO) up here! i sincerely hope that you guys like this, because it was like pulling teeth for this one. every now and again i’d find a golden one and smack it in there and hope that one decent line made up for all the others.

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

this was the hardest thing ive ever had to write (simply because there was so much emotion in it and it was hard to reel myself back in just to cast out again) and i had to write a paper on nathaniel hawthorne.

warnings: pretty angsty for me, bittersweet, um- why do i write angst, DRAMATICS hahaha

word count: 4.5k!

would like to remind you that i do not own taylor swift songs! this one borrows a little from tolerate it, the best song on evermore imho (tied with coney island).

You knew that opening the door was going to be a hard part, but what you didn’t prepare for was actually listening to her. You could have stared at her for eternity in silence, just harping on everything good and bad that ever happened between the two of you. You could imagine a thousand different scenarios where the two of you were happy and none of this had occurred, but that wasn’t the case. She didn’t come to you to stare and leave.

“Thank you,” Natasha said, her voice throaty as she took a cautious first step into your space. Your space. It sounded weird, and you knew that it felt weird to her. You two had shared everything for the longest, and now you had your own place to live in. “Thank you for letting me in.”

“You came to talk,” you said, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively, and she didn’t miss the obvious tell of your body language. “I won’t make you waste your time. Say your piece, and then...” you trailed off, both of you knowing full well where you were going with it. 

“Can I just start with the fact that I’m so sorry,” she blurted, and you have her an unamused look as you sat on your couch, and she sat on the edge of it. “And that I don’t know why that happened. I don’t expect for you to ever forgive me, and I don’t forgive myself. I won’t ever forgive myself for hurting you so badly, and having such a lapse in judgement. I’m sorry.”

“What was it that was different?” You asked, the question that had been haunting you for a while now finally escaping your lips. When she gave you a confused look, you stared back at her. “What was so different about whatever happened on the mission?”

You didn’t ask what you did wrong, because you didn’t do anything wrong. It took you weeks to know that, weeks to come to the conclusion, but you knew. It wasn’t anything that you lacked, it was something that Natasha did. Whether it was loyalty, restraint, a moral compass, or even something else, you didn’t think that it was you.

“There was nothing different.”

You were trying to hold it together, but you knew that you were seconds from falling apart right in front of the person who had destroyed you. “You don’t have to lie.”

She made a face. “There wasn’t. There was nothing about her that was better than you, I swear.”

But there was nothing different. There was nothing different in the way that you held her to the way that Abigail did, then. There must have been nothing different in the way that you kissed her in the morning. Nothing special about how you would dance with her on the third of the month simply because you liked the number three. There was nothing special about the way you held her hand and rubbed her back and sometimes sang her to sleep when she needed it. And there was certainly nothing different or special about the way that you let her put her head on your chest, just so that she could hear your heart beating.

Maybe what you did was different or special to you and not to her. And maybe it was time for you to finally realize it, whether it hurt or not.

Your emotions were threatening to come through, and you couldn’t have that happen. “I thought you came to talk. Talking requires truth.”

“I did,” she rushed, and then she sighed and wiped her palms on her thighs. You knew what that was. Of course you knew what she was. That was her being nervous. “I just wanted you to know that I love you, I love you so much, no matter what you choose. I never meant for any of it to happen, and I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

“You knew what happened with the others,” you said, and you knew that she knew that you were talking about the men who used to cheat on you without thinking twice. You saw her wince. “You knew how I felt about dishonesty. You knew how long it took me to be fully trusting of you, and you ruined it for two months of fun?”

“I know I did.”

“Do you know that, Natasha?” You asked, your voice starting to raise a bit. “I trusted you, and then I gave you everything I had. There wasn’t a piece of me that wasn’t for you, don’t you get that? I painted a portrait of us with the best colors I had and you opened the door on me doing the finishing touches and threw black paint over it.”

She was surprised that you were actually allowing yourself to be angry, and that made you even more upset. You were allowed to be pissed. “I’m sorry,” she breathed out, a thin layer of tears in her eyes.

“I did- I had everything lying out on the table for you emotionally. It was wrapped so pretty for you when I helped you through your own stuff, and it waited until you were ready. There wasn’t a thing you didn’t know, not a secret kept from you. And I still can’t believe that you returned me being in love with you, with that.”

“It didn’t mean anything to me. None of it meant anything to me at all, I swear.”

“It meant something to Abigail,” you said, and you saw her flinch. “It meant something to the girl that told you that she loved you. And if I’m not mistaken, you told her the same. So did it really not mean something, or are you an even larger liar than I thought?”

“It didn’t mean anything.” For a spy, she was quite easy to read. Or maybe you just spent so much time knowing her that it was impossible to not know her inside and out. You knew her every movement that she made when she lied, and you knew what she looked like when she was telling the truth. This, this wasn’t it.

And it destroyed you.

“Don’t you understand how that feels? It feels like being cut a thousand times by the fancy blade that you made yourself. It feels like being bitten by your own dog. It feels like being nearly drowned in the oceans that you’ve swam in for forever. We were so close! We were so close that I was sure that we were predestined or some of that cheesy shit, Natasha. I could have sworn that we were meant for each other, but now I know that we were, because the betrayal that you did cut me down into a million pieces. That was something that neither of the others were able to do. That’s something that only you could do, and I trusted you not to do it. I never thought you could do it. I thought that you loved me far too much to pull the shit that you did.

“Maybe I was foolish enough to make the knife right in front of you, but I trusted you to know it was there and not use it against me. And you still stabbed me with it.” Your voice cracked and you could feel warm tears falling into your hand, but you didn’t care. You had to keep going. “How could you see me give and give and give to you, for you, and then tolerate it and go see someone else?”

She was breathing heavily after your rant, like she had spoken the words instead. A singular tear came down her face, and you thanked whoever was sitting above and watching for the crack in her mask. You were begging to see her half as emotional as you, half as hurt by her own actions.

You knew that it was different when you saw her wipe her tear. She never wiped her tears around you. You were the only one who got to see them, but you supposed not even you were allowed to see it anymore.

“I can’t even begin-” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I regret what happened.”

“How do you regret-” you pursed your lips and shook your head, closing your eyes for a second as your heart clenched. “How do you regret falling in love with someone?”

“I don’t love her-”

“Do you love me?” You asked.

“More than I love anything else in the entire world.”

“You loved her more if you risked me losing me, Natasha.” You said, and her brows shot up at your conclusion. “You know what would happen if you did that to me and I found out. You knew you would lose me, and you did it anyway. So you two must have had something special. Congrats.”

“No, you’re-”

The temper that you tried to keep in check was bubbling over again, and you realized that there was no checking yourself. “Do you know how long I waited for you and never cheated? Never had sex with anyone else, never went on a date with anyone else? For just as long as you were supposed to! And I managed! So what’s wrong with you?”

“Y/N, I think we should calm down a little. Let’s talk it out for a second.”

“I’ve been talking it out. All by myself, actually, because you’re too afraid to do a damn thing and admit that you fucked up for two months straight.” You closed your eyes again as you felt the hurt come back up. “How do I know it was just that time? How do I know that?”

There was a silence that spoke volumes. “You don’t.”

“And what if we got back together, after all of this?” It was hypothetical, but seeing the hope perk up in her sparked something that you hadn’t felt towards her in forever. Or, you had, it was just smothered by the heat of your fury. “How would I know that you aren’t off pulling the same thing you did earlier?”

“You’d have to trust me.”

“Well, I can’t do that. I literally can’t,” you cried out, putting your head in your hands and shaking you head. It was quiet except for the sounds of your cries, and it was ominous. There was never a quiet moment between you and Natasha, but you were dying out, fizzling away. You already had your Big Bang, now you were creating black holes that would forever remain on opposite sides of the universe. And you both knew it.

“You- you humiliated me,” you shook your head from left to right again, face still hidden. “You had an affair with a younger girl, you did it in front of the people I shared a living space with. You did it shamelessly in front of the people I cooked meals for every day, the people who’s fucking uniforms I ironed! They were my friends too, Natasha, and you humiliated me. You made them keep your dirty secret, did you apologize to them?”

“I haven’t spoken to them much.”

“I had to figure out from Pepper in front of the wedding dress store,” you continued, your throat tightening. “I was there getting the dress that I was going to walk down the aisle in. Everything was perfect, and then you did something that shattered what I thought couldn’t be broken.” You had thought that you and Natasha were rock solid, the hardest stone. You two were diamonds that sparkled and prevailed together, until you learned that you were truly just glass.

She leaned forward, giving you a look that you knew meant honesty. But it was far too late for that, and it wasn’t going to do Natasha much good now. “I wish every second of the day that I didn’t do it, Y/N. Every second of every day.”

Your lips turned into a scowl. “Wishing doesn’t do anything for us. We’re not little kids and we’re not princesses.”

That word, wishing, must have been the one to do her in, because she was sobbing right into her own sleeve, an arm covering her eyes from your sight. Your tears were subsiding, and you watched her with thinly pressed lips. Watching her cry was never pleasant.

“I’m so, so sorry. I can’t- I can’t imagine how you must feel, but I’m so sorry. I don’t know why- I can only apologize to you and beg that you’ll welcome me back to you, where I’m supposed to be.” Your eye twitched as you listened, and told yourself to keep your strength up. “I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, baby, but I know now. I know who I’m meant to be with, and it wasn't her. It’s you, it always has been.”

You knew that. You had always known that. It was a fact, something that had always rang as true as the beating of your own heart. You knew that it was written in the stars for you by some gracious god who decided to reveal what could have been your present and future to you, but you guess the other half of the tale never saw it herself. She knew now, sure. But she learned a little too late for your taste.

“Please, you have to know. You have to know that I didn’t- that I would never do it again.” 

How could you tell someone that their apology wasn’t enough? How could you reject someone when they were at their lowest point? How were you going to find the strength in yourself to turn down the woman that you still very much loved? The one that you thought that you lost to another was right in front of you, begging for a second chance, but was it right for you to give it to her?

But how could she see you at your most vulnerable every day and know that you loved and cared for her with your whole heart and still do what she did? How was she okay with ruining you after all that you had been through? How did she not feel bad for two months about betraying the one person who she knew would be forever in her corner?

Whatever her method was to do things that hurt the people she supposedly loved, she found a way. And so would you.

“Have you said what you needed to?” You asked, your tone slow and deliberate as you fought for your tears not to ruin your words. Just as slowly, she nodded. “Then, please leave.”

A noise left her throat. “Please, wait. Wait.”

“There’s nothing left to say, Nat. We said it all.” You stood up, and she followed. “Fix your relationships at the tower, alright?”

“Don’t,” she muttered, tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t tell me that you don’t want to try and then act like you care about me.”

You both walked to the door, because you knew that I the end she would do what you asked of her. “We were friends first.” You insisted. “We were friends first, Natasha, so I care. So, because we were friends first, I’ll tell you to get better. Work on yourself. Fall in love with someone else. Maybe not with two people at the same time.”

Her face was utterly pitiful. Her eyes were watering in a way you had never seen them do before, and her hands were shaking. You had seen the most of Natasha that anyone had in the entire world, yet you had never seen her so torn apart, so open. She laid it all out for you like you had been doing for her for years, and now you were finally the one to ruin the pretty picture. “Please.” 

As soft as a gentle breeze came your next word. “No.” You yanked your apartment door open, and then you were both shivering. She looked up at you, her face full of an expression of the most shattered you had seen her yet, and the part of you that still ached prayed that it would be the last time you would ever see her at all.

Your body moved on its own. It asked for one more point of contact, just one more before you deprived yourself from the person you loved the most. Your lips pressed against the crown of her head as you told yourself it was for your own good. Your eyes shut as you put your hands on her shoulders, and tears were turning spots of her red hair dark. She was shaking underneath you, crying even harder than you were. You pulled away from her and opened the door wider.

“Wish you all the best, Nat.”

She walked away, off of your porch and into the night. You shut the door.

§§

You figured that you would miss her, but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the early part of leaving. By the time you moved on, it was far past the date of the wedding and even further past your anniversary. Sometimes it still hurt to think about how your life could have been had she chosen to stay faithful, but you learned that the scenarios hurt more than they helped and stopped.

You had a steady job, could keep up with the rent on your apartment, had enough for groceries and even had spare to get your nails done if you wanted to. You were doing it all, and you were doing it well after being attached at the hip to someone else for years and years.

There was a time where you would have thought that living without Natasha would be excruciating. The first night after you stormed out and cried yourself to sleep, you were sure that it would be painful, every night without her next to you would be like a stab in the gut. But after a while, it really wasn’t.

At first, it was. You missed her terribly, and, a part of you still did. You missed the good things that happened, but you realized that the good didn’t erase the bad, and that the bad didn’t erase the good. So, after a long time of thinking about her, your stance on Natasha Romanoff wasn’t hateful, or upset, or vengeful. You barely had one.

You thought about her and saw a book that you had finished reading a long time ago. Impactful at the time you read it, of course, and it could leave a longing imprint, but it was over. You could never relive that exact moment ever again that you read her, not a good one or a bad one. The hardest, most intense part of it was over, so far behind you that you could breathe again. 

And damn, did it feel good to breathe. 

§§§

Seeing her was awkward, and it was something that came straight out of your outdated imagination. You were by yourself buying apples at the market that you always went to because you adored fresh fruit, checking for bruises on them that were never there. You were carrying four in a bag with a content look on your face, just walking around and looking at other fruits and vegetables when you felt someone’s eyes on you. You looked up.

Sam Wilson was looking right at you, his jaw a little slack as he recognized you. You hadn’t seen him since you stormed out of the compound god knows how long ago. Within seconds, your life at the tower and memories with him flashed in your head. You two would cook together side by side often, and that's where you would do most of your bonding and talking with him. Your heart clenched for a moment, and then you raised the hand that wasn’t occupied and gave him a wave and a half smile, one that you hoped told him that you weren’t angry.

You looked back to the vegetables and then at the sign on the table. Damn, that’s kind of expensive. You shrugged your shoulders and put the greens on the weighing machine anyway, and pulled the money out of your purse for it. You smiled at the vendor and left with your new bag, wiggling your eyes at the strawberry table and starting your approach. 

“Hi,” an achingly familiar voice called out while you were steps away from the table of deliciously red strawberries. You could smell them from where you were at. You turned around still, even after easily identifying who the voice belonged to. “How are you?”

She was as beautiful as ever, the top of her head under a blue ball cap and her eyebrows perfectly done. Her eyes were hidden by shades, but you didn’t need to see them to know what she was thinking. Her arms were loose at her sides, but her fingers were moving strangely, and you noticed them immediately as her nervous tick. You took in a deep breath. 

“I’m good, how about you?” You asked Natasha back, and she gave you a pained smile.

“I’m alright.”

“Oh, sweet,” you said, and then gave her a parting smile before turning towards the strawberries.

“Wait,” she called out.

You stopped and turned your head, even though you wanted more than anything to forget that you ran into her. “Yes?”

There was a moment of silence between you two, and then she took a step forward. “Are you still upset?” She asked, voice lower in volume than usual. 

You almost scoffed at her. “I’m an adult, I can’t really be sad for long or I’ll forget to pay a bill or something.”

“Can we talk?” She started, and you held up a hand.

“Let’s not open up old wounds,” you said, already knowing exactly where she was going with all of her hesitance and fiddling with her thumbs.

“I need to apologize for what happened.”

You shrugged. “I forgive you. Actually, I forgave you weeks and weeks ago. It’s okay. We can move on from it.” We need to move on from it. 

You saw your old lover’s face light up in just the slightest, but just as fast as you saw it, it was gone. Her lack of wanting to express to you didn’t hurt anymore. “We?”

“We can move on,” you repeated, “just not together.” Her face dropped at what you said, and you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I fucked up.”

Yes, you did. “It’s in the past now.”

There was a pause, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You wondered when your heart started to beat on its own again and not for the woman standing so close yet so far away. You wondered when you started to do anything for just yourself, and you wondered when you had stopped doing that in the first place. Her voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Is it?”

You almost had to ask her to remind you what the conversation was about. “Oh. It is,” you said gently, but your voice was still stern. “All good things must come to an end, and what we had was good. It was great, and that must have meant that we were destined to end fast.”

She shook her head slightly. “If you- if you forgive me, it doesn’t have to be over.”

“It does.” You looked at your phone and sighed. “I have to leave.”

“Okay,” She said softly after a moment, and finally took a step back. It was a small one, like her body was trying to override her brain. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you, Nat.” You saw her wince, and if you hadn’t made peace with everything, you would have, too.

She took another step back and cleared her throat, just as Sam started making his way over. She nodded at you, and you gave her a small smile, almost encouraging. Just walk away, this is the last time you’ll have to do it. “Later,” She said, her voice a little hoarse as she turned on her heel and walked right past Sam.

“Later” meant never. And you didn’t know if you were supposed to feel nothing or everything about it.

§§§

The last time you saw Natasha Romanoff was a year later, when you were holding hands with a pretty woman from an art show that you went to. She stole your heart with her work, and she turned out just as beautiful on the inside as she was with a brush, and on the outside. Her name was Julie, and she was great. She was honest. 

You really liked Julie. She wasn’t Natasha, though, and it was both refreshing and saddening, because you knew that what you felt with Natasha was a one time thing. You two had one chance to keep the bond that was seemingly inseparable and stronger than steel together, and everyone was rooting for you. And then, it just fell apart.

You knew that Natasha was your first actual love, and the only person who was ever going to be able to love you emotionally like you needed to be. The two of you were, in your mind, made for each other. If soulmates existed, Natasha would have been yours, and you would have been hers. You knew that even five years after not being with her, and while the hole in your heart wasn’t hollow, you had a feeling that a little something was always going to be cold, like a cavity that was never filled. Someone saying her name or asking about her was like chewing ice on it.

But people moved on. Just like you did. And you had moved on from the beautiful yet icy mountains of Natasha and into a soft and whimsical meadow, and that meadow was Julie. 

You were holding hands with Julie, arms swinging as you were leaving the donut shop and talking about silly things that made the both of you grin when you caught a familiar flash of red. Out of instinct, you looked over your shoulder, and what you saw made you freeze.

Natasha Romanoff was with a girl with brown skin and black hair that was glinting in the sunlight, and she wasn’t focused on the way that you and Natasha locked eyes in that moment, the moment that seemed to last years. You didn’t think you were still moving, and it certainly didn’t feel like you were taking a step, but you were. You saw her blue-green eyes blink at you, and like you were still stuck on the same wavelength after all that time, you both raised a hand and gave a timid wave, small smiles gracing the both of your faces.

You saw the girl tug lightly on Natasha’s arm, and your grin stretched. Natasha looked over at the girl, and an immediate smile, one similar but not quite the same as she used to give to you, was on her face. You turned your head forward, a light smile still on your own face as you watched it all happen in a split second.

You both kept walking.

*****

ahahaha wow, that hurt really bad actually - never doing angst again i’m a fluffy type of gal

so i’ve never done a taglist before! so i hope i’m doing it right otherwise this’ll make me look incredibly dumb-

@messuhp @username23345 @fishlikestuff @thelastavenger-3000 @grievingfortheliving @madamevirgo @dontmindmejustreading @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @sourpatchspinster @fayhar @sarcasticallywitty15 @normanijauregui

[starshipsofstarlord]

Jim and Jody - Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary; it was one of the biggest decisions of your life, but will you change your mind before your future is sealed?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abortion (everyone is permitted to do what they want with their body, in this imagine the reader wants to keep the baby, but pro choice, as everyone deserves control over their bodies and all 🤍), brief mention of sex and threats

Masterlist Link

To see him so relaxed, so completely and utterly himself was a paradise all on its own. There was a heaviness aboard your shoulders, but as you watched him goof tirelessly about, you had no other concerns, not even as you subconsciously raised your hand over your stomach. You shook your head at the sentiment, the two of you had already made the decision to abort this child, it was unknown how the poor fellow would turn out to be; with the combination of your powers and his super everything, it was sure to be quite the complication, and not one that you supposed was to be an easy course.

A smile pried at your face, simply from viewing him with the pack of children, the wind from the docks swept your hair into your face, and in turn, you swept the locks out and away from your vision, so that you had further access to watch the man that you loved in his absolute element. Through the years, past and recent, he had lost so much, and this child was just to be another mantle on the wall of memorial in his mind, it was sad really. If the two of you were normal, with average and lives that had perceptions with no regards of being heroic, there’d be no query about it, you’d keep the baby.

That life though, to your grave misfortune, did not exist, it was merely a fantasy living painfully inside of your mind, haunting you whenever you closed your eyes, with the flashing images of a resolution and end to the errors in your lifestyle. There’d be a big house, yet nothing to prissy, just enough room for the pair of you and few children of your own, a grand garden with a swing set and sand pit, where the infants could grow up and play in once they were older. Then there’d also be a shed for Bucky to work on small projects, such as attaining some love and care to his motor bike, as well as storing the supplies that he’d need to do so.

All that is a universe away, muffled from possibility by the stars expediting through the gorgeous veil of the galaxy, corrupting the possibilities of ever gaining access to such... peace. That was the one thing that the pair of you wanted, however catching a break was rather rare within your predicament. A stifled laugh reeled from the conjunction of your lips as you simply and endearingly surveyed how the boys, specifically Sam’s nephews hung from the vibranium branch of his arm. It was all your attention was focused on, until an extra person took a seat on the picnic table beside you, his sweet yet musky scent detailing whom it was. “If your not going to eat that, I’m sure Barnes Junior might want an opinion on that.”

The underlining of the words caused an abstract grimace to forlorn your features, as you stared not at the speaker of whom you were close with, but instead the slather of cake that was planted on a paper plate before you, the icing beginning to become slightly sick from the beating of the viable son. “You’re glowing, you know? Motherhood is a good look on you y/n/n, I wouldn’t be so soon to let that go.” Your fingers pried at the dismantled crumbs off your section of desert as you looked to your new captain, a resonating conformation fo bridled suffering and hopelessness clouding your view of his attempt at making you atone before you made a sin that you’d forever regret.

He, like many others, knew that the family life was what you wanted; you wanted to be your child’s hero, tending to their each necessary (and unnecessary) need, them being your main focus and project and life. Instead, you had been handed your options on a short stick, and thus, your decision, albeit somewhat of a sensible one, didn’t make it hurt any less. “Sam.” You spoke his name, observing from the corner of your eye how Bucky paraded around the dock with Jim and Jody. It’d be nice to give him a slice of this kinda life, he was thriving as an adult around children, you could only imagine him in the case of this one being birthed into the world. “It’s not that easy.”

“No one said it was going to be easy.” Sam responded quickly, affirming your fears to your nerve wrecked face. “I get it, I do. People will be after this kid, and that is no way to live, but you two aren’t alone in any of this, nor will you be in that. You have me, along with many other old friends of ours, hell even the Wakandan’s. Do you really want to sacrifice this one life so you can continue living this one? You and Bucky have both lost so much, you don’t have to force yourself to willingly give away something else. The decision can be changed the last minute, it’s a lot to take in, I get that, but I see the way Buck is with my nephews, and how you watch them when you think nobody’s looking over at you. With your state pardon, you two can retire, and go far away, and abandon everything for this one little guy or gal, because I know that if you do, no matter what, they’ll be worth it.”

Bucky wailed a warrior’s shout as Jim and Jody playfully struck him down, his unsheathed metal hand grasping at the cloth that was tightly aboard his addictive chest. He rolled on the ground as the children ran to retrieve their toy lightsabers, leaving him to be expendable against their weapons. There was a giddy and fitting smile smouldering his usual stoic expression. It was no wander why he found calm in visiting Sam and his sister’s small, and accepting family. The kids brought out another side of him, which he had been tortured to refrain from showing, but you had seen, and were contemplating many things within your mind. You were lapping up the image, as though you were dehydrated and the sight of him appeased by the company of young ones was a source of water.

Sam was right, he always was and had been. “The decision was on both of our parts, you don’t think Buck’ll change his mind, or do you?” You were invested in getting a responsive answer, yet the man spluttered a laugh at your confused expense. He heaved for a moment, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. There was nothing stopping him from gaining it back, unlike Bucky whom had grabbed a saber of his own and lightly began to paddle against the one that was directed against him, other than another round of hysterics that abandoned him. A reasonable smile resonated a comfortable position upon the former falcon’s face, as he tentatively patted your knee, watching as you broke off a small rupture of cake and popped it in your mouth, feeding not only yourself but the inmate within your womb.

“There isn’t really much for me to say, it’s easy, look at him. He will be fine with whatever decision that the pair of you succumb to, after all, it’s your body, but it will pain him like nothing else ever has if you go through with the abortion, and if not, then trust me, we’ve both seen how hard he fights; think of that but ten times the mass in consideration of this baby, because I am certain that he’d do anything for them. He lost his entire family when he awoke from his mode of hydra assassin, this could be him getting it back. Different members, but a family all the same.” He stole a little of your cake, making you lightly elbow him as a smirk rendered a beauty upon his face.

“What’s that going to make you, the patriotic uncle who just can’t keep himself from flashing his shield?” Now it was his turn to retaliate, he lightly scuffed your ankle with a feather light tap of the toe of his shoe, causing you to promiscuously roll your eyes. “I’m joking, that was Steve’s aesthetic, this new version of cap is your baby, I have great faith in you to make this world a better and safer place. The funny thing is, when you finally accepted that shield was yours, that’s when my mind shifted to the possibility of keeping this kid. It was and has always been a sign of hope and protection to Bucky, maybe it could be the same for our little one. It was just a thought, I’m not meaning to put pressure on your or anything bu-“

“I get it, and I’m honoured. And if that is how it seems, then I want you to know that I’ll be there to protect them too. The main bump in the road for now is for you to talk to that grumpy ass boyfriend of yours and figure this sperm plus egg equation out, send Jim and Jody over here, I got somethin’ to show those two anyway.” With a nod and a grateful pat upon your friend’s head, you slowly plodded over to where Bucky was being cornered against the side of the truck by the boys. His blue orbs danced around their small and imaginative beings, until they landed on you, it was as though his pupils were calling out for help, begging for you to spare some mercy upon him.

“Jim, Jody, your uncle Sammy has something for you two to see.” They groaned lightly, having been pulled away from the narrative of their play time, but nevertheless their faces were clean slates as they expressed hyper smiles, and bolted their route towards their mother’s sibling, carrying their lightsaber replicas along with them. “Two kids beat an infamous, deadly badass with a metal arm. I think you might be getting too old for these kinda battles Buck, you were losing, and quite terribly if I say so myself.” Crossing your arms, as he came to an upright stand, hoisting himself off the ground, so that he could be more level with you.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Thought you were supposed to be supportive of me and all that, as you said to Zemo, you’d quite happily cut his dick off if he compared me to the shadow that I used to be.” His brow raised, as he reminisced on the thought of you threatening Zemo; it was hot, and certainly had gotten him going, which had shortly left you in this predicament, trying to save the world and execute the one last thing that exhumed hope to either one of you. The baby. It was almost a certain and solid fact that the little one inside of you had been procreated on the Baron’s private jet, more specifically, the small and clean bathroom that had became dirty with your primal sins.

“And I still regret not doing that, he’d have had much less leverage in any sense of the word of phallic if he had it sectioned off.” Silence emitted between the two of you, although a humoured smirk tantalised upon Bucky’s graceful face. For a change, he was not prompting the expression of a grumpy cat that was refused its nip, no, instead he could be compared to a future - actually, he already was a father to the bean held in the shield of your body, having been an ample ingredient in bringing the small person into being. “So, you having fun with Sarah’s kids, sure looks like you were quite in your element before I cut in.”

“I’m always in my element when you’re around doll.” He smiled, wrapping his uncoordinated hands around the oval of your waist, and tugging you sentimentally closer, your hips bumped with his, as your eyes ogled infatuatedly up at him. “They’re great kids, makes me realise exactly what we’re gonna be missing out on.” Bucky gulped, sparks of emotion taunted the behind of his eyes, like saucers of resentful fire. “You’d be the perfect mother, you know that right? After all you’ve done for me, you’ve nurtured me close to the man that I once was, the only difference is that I want to settle, but I don’t know how to go about dropping everything. This kid is killing me, he’s making me question everything.”

“That’s what kids are supposed to do, unborn, or very much avidly attacking grown men with false lightsabers.” Bucky deeply into your frustrated and corresponding eyes, your hands reaching up to play defiantly with the smooth dip in his chin that could be seen through the shading of his light stubble. “What if we did have a Jim and Jody of our own some day? We could keep him or her, they’d be our greatest concern, we don’t have to go down this painful and longing, rusted road. We could bring something good into this world, protect them against all forces that threaten to disrupt their life, I want this with you Bucky. We could move far far away, or go somewhere close to home.”

“Brooklyn.” He stated, causing a line to crease gently in the plain of his forehead. “I want to call them Brooklyn, if I am to fight the rest of my life for something, I want it to be my home. Last time I had to leave there, but it’s my amends to never leave this child of ours, if we’re going to do this, we need to put them in front of everything, and I mean everything.” He spoke, in reference to the other avengers and other aliases that you had stood by for so long. Bleakly you nodded, grasping his jaw down for an amorous kiss, humming against the palette of his lips, as your hands entwined behind his neck, pulling his face closer to your own, prompting his tongue to travel deeper within the realm of your mouth.

“Brooklyn is a nice name. How about Brooklyn Margaret Barnes? I think that has quite the ring to it.” You offered, and he hardly reacted, instead quickly appraising a pleasant smile onto the canvas of his work of art face, as he ducked his head down, conjoining the pair of you into a passionate and meaningful collide of your lips. Sam smiled as he watched the pair of you, pointing at you two from afar, as his nephews from afar. He was giving them a man to men talk, offering them advice that they would have valuable usage of in the future.

“Now that is love. You don’t give up for the one thing that connects you, and those two, well Bucky and y/n have been through a hell of a lot. They deserve this, and when you meet a woman when you’re older, and your mum is watching on towards the two of you, I want you to make her proud by treating your girl like a princess, willing to sacrifice everything simply to create the future that she wishes for you.” He emotionally wiped his eyes, rushing to stand before he grasped a lightsaber, leaving the other to spare for one of them. “Now Jim and Jody, which one of you will be my padawan?”

[rafael-silva]

we remain: a tarlos fic

Missing scenes from 2.12. Takes place after Carlos and Gabriel’s phone call. 

*

“He on his way?”

Carlos nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before.”

Gabriel’s arrival after the fire leads to him taking Carlos and TK home, where Andrea is waiting for them with some much-needed motherly comfort. Reeling from the fire and its damage, Carlos feels heavy and lost. He leans on his boyfriend and TK is there to catch him. Carlos comes to a realization and with TK’s help and guidance, Carlos finds his footing again.  

missing scenes, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, carlos needs a hug, kisses, sharing a bath, soft tarlos

4.5k | rated T | on ao3

*****

“He on his way?”

Carlos nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so upset before.”

Carlos had zoned out of the conversation jumping between Judd, Owen, Tommy and Billy as they all stood by the opened ambulance doors. He’d hear TK’s voice whenever the young paramedic would say a word here or there, but Carlos’s eyes kept drifting back to what remained of his, and briefly his and TK’s, home. The stench of smoke and burnt wood hung heavy in the air around him. He almost felt lightheaded as he surveys what little remains of the life he built for himself over the past few years. Carlos feels like he’s free falling, the only thing keeping him from crumbling is TK’s hand in his, strong, supportive and there. Carlos holds onto his boyfriend with everything he’s got, both needing the support and needing to know that TK is really here and next to him.

He looses track of time, but soon, his ears pick up on a worried voice calling from behind, a familiar voice. But it seems so far away, so distant, like he’s underwater and someone is calling for him from above.

Carlos slowly turns around, his hand still clasping TK’s, and it’s then he registers his father rushing towards him.

“Carlitos,” Gabriel calls again, his voice coated with concern and his eyes blown wide.

“Dad,” Carlos whispers, his voice hoarse as he breaks away from TK’s side and takes a couple of steps to meet his father.

“Hey, son,” Gabriel breathes out and wastes no time in wrapping Carlos in a hug.

Exhausted, mentally and emotionally, Carlos falls against his father, closing his eyes as a tear falls down his ashy cheek. He gravitates closer to Gabriel and the older man tightens his hold him.

Carlos can hear Gabriel murmuring words of support and comfort and Carlos soaks it all up. But it doesn’t stop his body from shaking in his father’s arms.

“It’s okay, son, it’s okay,” Gabriel continues with his reassurances, and after a glance towards the ambulance and seeing TK standing near Judd, looking shaken but otherwise unharmed, he adds, “you’re both okay.”

Gabriel’s hold on Carlos doesn’t falter until Carlos starts to calm down. The officer draws in a breath and is about to say something but those words are interrupted by a rough cough tearing through his throat.

Gabriel frowns and he’s the one who pulls back slightly, eyebrows drawn together and closely watching his son’s face as the coughing fit continues.

“Carlos,” Gabriel says once his son can answer, “are you sure you don’t need to be in the hospital?”

“It’s fine,” Carlos replies around a grimace, pausing to suck in some air and swallows against his parched throat. “I got checked out, we both did, and it’s just minor smoke inhalation.”

“Son…” Gabriel tries again.

“We’re okay, dad.”

Carlos’s shoulders are hunched downwards like they were carrying the weight of the world and then some and Gabriel sighs, hating how worn out and tired his son looks. Carlos looks so deflated, so small and it breaks Gabriel’s heart.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, that you both are,” Gabriel expresses, his eyes not leaving Carlos’s. “I was so worried.”

Carlos nods, sniffing. “For a moment in there, I…I thought we weren’t going to make it out…the fire was everywhere, the whole house was…even in the bedroom. We were about to jump out of the window when Owen…” he trails off, his voice breaking. He bites down on his lower lip as fresh tears build in his eyes, as he recalls those terrifying moments. As he recalls the words he stumbled over, the fear echoing as he spoke, thinking it would be the last time he’d ever talk to TK.

Gabriel momentarily shuts his own eyes, his soul shattering at the mere thought of his son not making it out of the fire, and knowing that that was a very real possibility shakes him to his core. And even more so, knowing that he was partly responsible for this disaster, that his actions could have inadvertently caused his son to get hurt or worse, or caused his son to lose the man he loves. Gabriel knows he’s never going to forgive himself for this. His mind drifts back to the frantic call he had received from Owen less than an hour ago.

Gabriel had frowned slightly when the caller ID lit up with Owen’s name. Something stirred in the Ranger’s gut then, telling him that something was wrong.

“Owen,” Gabriel had picked up.

“Gabriel,” Owen replied, his strained voice confirmed Gabriel’s instincts. “Have you heard from Carlos recently?” He asked, forgoing any pleasantries.

The question made Gabriel sit up a little straight, any remnants of fatigue from their long day immediately evaporated from his bones. He took a quick glance at Andrea, who was moving to get into bed next to him, before he answered Owen.

“Not for a few hours…why?”

“Raymond, we know he wasn’t done. Remember what he said? That he’s going to take everything that’s important to me? I thought he was talking to me,” Owen paused and Gabriel heard the sound of the car accelerating.

Dread had begun to build in Gabriel’s gut as he waited for Owen to continue.

“I thought he meant the 126. But the fire at the station wasn’t what he was talking about. At least not completely. Gabriel…I didn’t realize it sooner but he was talking to us both.”

Gabriel’s blood ran cold and his heart dropped into his stomach when Owen’s word sunk in and he realized. “The boys…”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to reach TK but it keeps going to voicemail.”

“Hold on,” Gabriel said as he turned to his wife. “Call Carlos.”

It was Andrea’s turn to frown, confusion morphing on her face but the urgency behind her husband’s words had her instantly reaching for her phone and calling their son. She shook her head a few moments later.

“Voicemail,” she informs Gabriel, her voice thick with worry now.

“Try again.”

“You’ve reached Carlos, leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Carlos’s phone keeps going to voicemail, too.”

“I’ll keep trying TK, I’m on my way there now and we called it in,” Owen said.

“I’ll meet you there,” Gabriel replied as he got out of bed.

He turned to Andrea again once he hung up the phone, the feeling of helplessness sinking deeper into his body and he could see his own fear reflected back at him.

He didn’t really know where to begin, but he settled for, “the boys are in danger.”

He wasted no time in getting dressed and driving towards the condo, sending silent prayer after prayer that the boys were okay, that Owen would get there in time. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he gets a phone call with his son’s voice on the other end five minutes before he arrived. Relief washed over him, and the surge of emotions was enough to break his usually strong composure, making his hand shake as he gripped the steering wheel.

He breaks from his thoughts when he hears Carlos shakily exhale and a hand goes to cup Carlos’s face, Carlos instinctively leaning into his father’s palm.

“You made it out, son, you’re here and that’s the most important thing. We’ll figure out everything else, okay?”

Carlos nods again and starts composing himself, his hands going to hold at the blanket around him and adjusts it over his shoulders.

Gabriel gently pats his cheek and gives him a sad smile before withdrawing his hand and they make their way over to TK and the others.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Gabriel tells TK, lightly clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sir,” TK responds, moving back to Carlos’s side.

“Owen,” Gabriel then extends his hand towards the fire captain, “thank you.”

Owen nods and shakes Gabriel’s hand. “It wasn’t just me, though.”

Gabriel then looks at Judd, Tommy and Billy. “Thank you all, truly.”

“Don’t mention it,” Judd replies. “Carlos is family and we do anything for family.”

Gabriel’s heart swells at Judd’s statement and at seeing that there’s a village of people looking out for his son.

Gabriel nods his thanks at Judd before turning to Tommy. “Captain Vega, thank you for being here.”

The Paramedic Captain nods. “Of course, I wanted to make sure the boys were okay for myself.”

“They’re going to be okay?”

“Dad…” Carlos groans.

“This is for your mother,” Gabriel turns to look at Carlos. “She made me promise to make absolute sure that you’re okay, from everyone.”

“They’re okay,” Tommy confirms. “I checked them both over myself, they’re going to be a little tired and weak for a few days, so they have to take it easy,” she pauses to look directly at TK, who shifts on his feet under the attention and leans into Carlos, “but they’ll be recovered in less than a week,” she continues. “They just need to rest.”

Satisfied, Gabriel nods. His eyes move back to Carlos, who’s looking at the few scorched frames that are still standing. Gabriel feels the guilt start to build again, both at seeing the ruined house and the broken look on Carlos’s face. He knows he’ll have to talk to Carlos about this, to tell him what caused this. He’s worried it’s going to cause another rift in their relationship they’ve only started to mend, but he knows that he’d deserve that if it happens. He kept information from his son and his son lost his home, his son almost didn’t make it out. His guilt is only increased at missing the true meaning behind Raymond’s threat. It was right there, right in front of him, but he missed it. He can’t help but wonder if only he had caught it before, if he had realized, maybe this tragedy wouldn’t have happened. Maybe Carlos wouldn’t look so crushed right now.

But he missed it, and it almost cost him his boy. It almost cost his son the man he loves. He’s standing in these ruins and his heart clenches in his chest. Those are things he’s going to have to live with for the rest of his life. And he’s going to do whatever it takes to earn his son’s forgiveness.

Seeing how heavy and worn-out Carlos looks, Gabriel decides to keep an eye on his for the time being, to make sure he’s okay, and here. To make sure both he and TK are okay. It’s the least he could do.

Feeling his father’s gaze, Carlos turns to look at him and Gabriel responds with placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ready to go?” Gabriel asks.

Carlos’s breath hitches a little, looking back at the house and then at TK. He knows there’s nothing to be done, the house is gone and he can’t do a single thing about it.

Besides, what remains of the house is still swarming with firefighters so he can’t go back in even if he wanted to. But still, it feels like his feet are nailed to the ground and he can’t move an inch, fixated on the burnt ash lying ahead of him.

TK appearing in his line of sight breaks Carlos out of his haze.

“Babe,” TK starts, both hands going to hold Carlos’s face. He caresses Carlos’s cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, not breaking their eye contact.

Carlos focuses on TK, on his green eyes that stand out against the black ash painting his face, and it helps calm the officer.

TK suppresses a cough before he continues. “I think you should go with your dad,” he voices. “I know being close to your parents tonight will help, baby. And I’m sure your mom wants to see you. I’ll be fine, I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”

Carlos shakes his head at the implication that he and TK would be spending the night apart. It’s true, he knows being close to his parents will help him and his parents feel a little better, but he can’t be away from TK, not right now, not when he’s still picking up the pieces of his broken heart, when he can still feel the smoke getting thicker around them, when he can still feel the dread in his gut at the realization that this could have been the end for him and TK. Not when the fear is still coursing through his veins and the roar of the fire hadn’t completely quietened in his ears.

Carlos knows TK doesn’t want to impose and assume he can go home with Carlos to Gabriel and Andrea’s. He knows TK wants to give him what he needs. But the bottom line is, he needs TK. He won’t go anywhere without him.

Gabriel picks up on Carlos’s hesitation and jumps in. “TK is more than welcome to come with us. And he’s right, your mother is eager to see you, son. And I know she wants to make sure that TK is okay, too.”

Carlos relaxes ever so slightly at that, a little of tension in his shoulders fading away. He swallows and nods. Being apart from TK right now would have felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

With a look between TK and Owen, TK’s eyes saying I can’t leave him and a nod from the older man, it’s decided.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here,” TK promises and wraps Carlos in a hug, holding him just like he had earlier.

Carlos buries his face in TK’s neck, and underneath all the soot and sweat and ash, he could still smell the scent that is TK and it helps soothe his hammering heart.

“My phone, well,” TK tells Owen after he and Carlos separate, gesturing to the nearly empty space behind them. “I’ll text or call from Mr. Reyes’s phone.”

“Okay, son,” Owen nods, making a mental note to get TK a new phone and pulls him into a hug. “Take care of each other.”

With quick goodbyes to Owen, Tommy, Judd and Billy, the three men walk to the Ranger’s truck and climb in.

Carlos doesn’t have the energy to look back, but he steals a glimpse of what was once his home through the right side mirror. His heart feels heavy in his chest as the remaining structure gets smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing out of view. And it’s just then, it truly sinks in that almost everything he’s built for himself, is gone.

He sighs, leaning his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. He feels the pull of sleep but there’s still residual adrenaline pumping through his veins, keep him on edge. He settles for resting his eyes and hopes it will ease the sting from the smoke.

The drive to Andrea and Gabriel’s house is spent in silence. Carlos only opens his eyes when he feels the truck slowing and comes to a stop a few moments later, followed by Gabriel turning off the ignition to indicate they’ve arrived.

Carlos takes a moment to look at his parents’ house through the window before moving to get out of the truck. The front door is torn open and he spots his mother quickly walking towards him before his feet hit the ground.

“Ma,” Carlos whispers and a second later, he’s being held in his mother’s embrace.

“Oh, Carlitos,” Andrea sighs, taking on most of Carlos’s weight as he slumps against her.

There’s a considerable height difference between them, Carlos having to lean down to hug his mother, but in this moment, in Carlos’s current state, he feels like a small boy in her arms as he further curls against her and she feels like a giant holding him close.

She doesn’t let go of Carlos, a steady arm on his back, but she extends her other to TK when he appears behind her son. He reaches out to her, their hands connecting and she gives his hand a supportive squeeze, which TK responds to with a nod. He has missed a motherly touch.

“Let’s get you boys inside,” Gabriel’s voice breaks the silence, noticing how Carlos and TK are standing on wobbly legs.

Andrea nods and reluctantly pulls back from Carlos, her eyes still glued to his face and her heart breaks some more at noticing the black botches littering his skin and the redness sitting inside his eyes.

“We’re okay, Ma,” Carlos reassures her, his voice still scratchy and low. He gives her the best smile he could muster, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

She nods again and returns the smile, unshed tears shimmering in her brown eyes. “Come on, like your father said, let’s get you inside. I made some soup and fixed up your old room for you boys,” Andrea announces as she leads the men inside.

Carlos is engulfed with memories of his childhood as soon as he walks through the door. He feels his heart lighten a little and TK was right, being here does offer some comfort he so desperately needs.

TK immediately senses that through their cosmic connection, and squeezes Carlos’s hand. Carlos glances over his shoulder and gives TK a small smile.

“I knew you’d be coming here,” Andrea continues. “Call it mother’s intuition, but I knew.”

Carlos nods and looks back at TK and they have a silent conversation then, their eyes meeting and speaking a thousands words and thoughts through brown and green gates. Concern, reassurance, love, all radiating between them, an invisible string always connecting them.

“There are some fresh towels on the bed, and I’ll reheat the soup so it’s ready when you’re done cleaning up and getting changed.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Carlos gives Andrea another hug, drawing strength from her.

She kisses his cheek when they separate and then moves to hug TK. “Thank God both of you are okay.”

Andrea and Gabriel watch as Carlos slowly leads TK up the stairs and only when they disappear down the hall does Andrea turn to her husband.

“I’d feel better if they stayed here for a few days,” she says.

Gabriel nods. “Me too.”

“They’re shaken, but they’re going to be okay, they have each other and they have us and Owen, TK’s team…it’s going to be okay,” Andrea expresses.

Upstairs, TK follows Carlos into the room and closes the door behind them. Carlos takes TK’s shock blanket and discards both blankets into the laundry bin next to the door. With a heavy sigh, he drops on the edge of the bed, leaning forward and places his face in his hands.

TK wants to look around the room, to catch glimpses of Carlos’s childhood and teen years in the books and comics lined up on the shelves, in the posters hung on the walls, in the certificates proudly framed and the medals and trophies neatly organized together. But he pushes that to the side for now, he can do that later. Right now, Carlos needs him.

TK moves towards the bed and sits on Carlos’s left. He wraps an arm around Carlos’s hunched shoulders and draws him close, the officer easily going with him. Carlos removes his face from his hands and settles against TK’s chest, closing his eyes when he feels the kiss TK drops to the top of his head.

Carlos’s hair smells of smoke and ash but TK can smell his boyfriend’s mint-scented shampoo underneath it all. In more ways than one, that mint scent has become TK’s home.

There are no words to be said, not really, so they just stay like that for what seems like hours. TK holding Carlos, running a hand up and down his arm while Carlos listens to TK’s heartbeat as it echoes against his ear, strong and steady. And in its own way, this moment says everything that needs to be said.

TK is the one to break the silence.

“We should get cleaned up, babe,” TK whispers, not wanting to completely shatter the quiet. “And then we’ll have some soup and we’ll sleep.”

Carlos untangles himself from TK but remains close to him, their thighs and sides still touching. He knows sleeping won’t be easy, that there are likely a few nightmares awaiting in the dark, and he knows TK knows that too, but he doesn’t voice it. Instead he nods, eyes drifting to the towels next to them.

“Don’t worry about those, I’ll get them,” TK says, breathing through the urge to cough but a couple of cough escape through his lips. “Do you want to shower alone or together?”

“Together,” Carlos immediately replies, and a light blush colors his cheeks.

The blush draws a light, playful chuckle from TK, and the sound brings a small smile to Carlos’s face.

“Okay, babe,” TK nods. “That’s what I was thinking, too.”

They navigate to the bathroom hand in hand, hearing a soft hum coming from downstairs as Andrea and Gabriel watch tv. TK closes and locks the door behind them, and they both start to undress. Their soiled clothes meet in a pile on the floor and Carlos’s eyes linger there for a few moments. As far as he knows, this is everything of theirs that survived the fire. A shirt, a hoodie, two pairs of sweatpants, two pairs socks and two pairs of shoes. That’s it. That is what remains of the life he, and then he and TK, had built. It sends a painful pang echoing through his chest.

The sound of the water spray hitting the marble brings him back from his thoughts, his head snapping up to see TK adjusting the water temperature.

He takes TK’s offered hand and they both step under the water, letting it run down their skin and wash away the physical evidence of the fire.

They take turns caring for each other, lathering up shampoo in their palms and running their fingers through each other’s hair as they wash away all the soot and ash and dirt. They brush soft kisses to each other’s body as they go along, kisses to shoulders, cheeks, hands, necks. Little reminders that they’re okay. They melt against each other, needing to know they’re both there, both giving and receiving in every way they can. They step out when the water starts to run clear and it gets a little cool, drying up with the towels and retreating back to Carlos’s bedroom.

Carlos opens the closet and retrieves some of the clothes he leaves there and lays them on the bed. Two pairs of sweatpants, an old police academy t-shirt for him and a similarly old police academy hoodie for TK.

TK gives him a smile when he notices the hoodie.

They change in silence and TK is about to head out but Carlos’s holds his hand to stop him. TK turns to face his boyfriend and moves back towards him.

“I just…I just need a moment,” Carlos explains, pushing out a small cough.

“Yeah, of course,” TK nods. “Whatever you need.”

Carlos hovers by the foot of the bed for a few seconds, shifting his weight between his feet and swallows. His hands begin to shake on their own accord and his head falls forward. TK instantly takes Carlos’s hands in his and applies a reassuring pressure to them, giving Carlos something to focus on and to help ground him.

“Baby, look at me,” TK pleads.

Carlos slowly lifts his gaze to meet TK’s beautiful eyes. He sees tears swimming against the green irises, sees the concern TK is carrying for him, sees TK’s own pain and fear.

“We’re okay,” TK vows. “I know this won’t go away overnight, I know there’s a lot for us to deal with, I know there’s a lot to feel. But I also know that we have each other, and we’ll rebuild our life together. I promise you. I’m not going anywhere. I swear it to you, Carlos, I’m not leaving your side. And everything you need to feel, feel it. I will be here to catch you.”

Carlos blinks, sending a tear rolling down his cheek. “I thought…when I thought we weren’t going to make it, I started missing everything we would be, everything we had yet to do together. I could see it so clearly, a flash of what we’d become together and then it was gone. I felt that loss, I felt the loss of us and it…” he shakes his head, “it hurt so much.”

TK plants a kiss to Carlos’s forehead. “I know, babe, I was scared too, because there’s still so much we didn’t do together and I was terrified we’d never get to do all those things, that it would be over when it’s only just begun for us…but we’re here, we’re alive, and we have each other,” TK wipes at Carlos’s fallen tears.

Looking into TK’s eyes, feeling and seeing his love and his passion, and feeling the love and passion he has for TK flutter in his chest in return, Carlos reevaluates an earlier thought.

Those clothes aren’t the only things that survived the fire. They survived. Their love survived.

They lost their home, yes, but Carlos realizes then, maybe home is a person. And he knows in his heart now that he found his home in TK.

TK cards his fingers through Carlos’s wet curls and touches his forehead to Carlos’s as they breathe together.

TK leans in, brushing soft kisses to each side of Carlos’s mouth and then one to his lips. Carlos moves in for another kiss when TK starts to pull back.

“Ready?” TK asks when they eventually separate after a few more exchanges of gentle kisses.

Carlos takes TK’s hand and nods, feeling the warmth of TK’s touch seeping into his skin.

“Ready,” Carlos replies and lets TK lead them out of the room and down the stairs where Andrea and Gabriel greet them with soft smiles.

And watching the love of his life engaged in a light conversation with his mother as she serves their food, and feeling his father’s reassurance presence at his side, Carlos nods to himself.

His eyes move back to land on TK, who softly laughs at something Andrea said and Carlos’s own lips curl upwards into a smile at the sight.

Carlos knows it’s going to be a tough road ahead, but for the first time since discovering the fire, hope starts to blossom in his chest.

Sensing his gaze, TK turns, easily finding Carlos’s eyes. For a moment, the rest of the house disappears and it’s just the two of them as they exchange the smiles that are reserved only for each other.

TK turns to Andrea when she says something and with his eyes still focused on TK, Carlos thinks, yeah, we remain.

[albertasunrise]

Just Another Conquest - Part 2

Masterlist

Warnings: You were sweet, innocent and completely infatuated with Javier Peña. After an incident at the Christmas party, you become the talk of the secretary's at the embassy and everything starts falling around you.

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of abortions, Mentions of Miscarriage.

Notes: Still a few touchy subjects in this chapter.

Part 1

You lay there waiting for the procedure to start, heart in your throat as you desperately tried to avoid his gaze. You weren’t sure why Javier wanted to be there for it, why he’d refused to leave your side since he’d found out you were in the hospital. You guessed he felt guilty, after all, he was the one that had gotten you into this mess so you had tolerated him. Had been civil. He had saved you from possible jail time, after all, flashing his badge and convincing the doctors not to report what you’d tried to do to your unborn child.

‘Right you ready?” The doctor asked in Spanish and you nodded, mixed feelings engulfing you at what was about to happen.

You nodded and she placed the probe on your exposed stomach, so you shut your eyes and waited, praying for it to be over. Javier watched you, his heart twisting as he watched the conflict you were suffering saturate your features. You had said you wanted this baby. That you were going to raise it alone and that he had an out. So why did it look like you didn’t?

Then he heard it and all thoughts disappeared like a puff of smoke.

The rhythmic thump of his child’s heartbeat filled the air and his own heart seemed to expand in his chest. He turned to look at the screen, the doctor pointing out the baby he’d helped create and he sobbed. He cried openly and you opened your eyes to see him staring at that small shape, hand over his mouth as he let his emotions flow freely. So you allowed yourself to look.

It was instant.

The feeling of love you had for this tiny being that you were growing inside of you. This tiny life that the doctor informed you were currently around the size of an olive. She then left the imaging on screen as she started to clean the jelly from your stomach and as soon as she was done, Javier placed a soft kiss there.

“Hello, little one.” He whispered and you swooned “I’m your Papi and I look forward to meeting you.” He finished before he looked up at you “If you’ll let me?”

You were at a loss for words. You’d not expected him to be so welcoming of this baby and a pang of guilt struck you. What if you had succeeded? You would have taken this away from him. You’d never stopped to consider that he might actually want this. Want to be a father.

You’d been too scared to consider it.

You were discharged later that day and Javier took you home, helped you get comfortable before putting away the medications and vitamins you’d been given. You weren’t sure when you dozed off but you’d been surprised to find that he was still there when you woke up later that day, carrying a tray of food with him as he set himself down on the bed beside you.

“Made you some soup.” He said softly as he placed the spoon in the bowl and handed it to you “Wasn’t sure whether you’d be up for anything bigger.”

“Why are you doing this Javier?” You asked, your brows furrowed as you gave him a questioning look.

“Doctor said you were going to be weak for a few more days and that you’d probably need a little extra help.” He replied, placing the bowl down when you didn’t take it.

“I know all of that I was there.” You grumbled, “I mean why are you helping me?”

“Because I care about you.”

“If you cared about me we wouldn’t be in this mess.” You spat and he flinched at the statement.

“You’re right I’m sorry.” He fumbled as he pushed the tray closer to you and stood “You don’t want me here... Fucking idiot.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not you… I’m a fucking idiot. Thinking that you’d accept help from me.” He elaborated “Or that you’d be willing to let me be a part of this baby’s life. I have no right.” He finished as he shook his head and made his way towards the door “I’ll get Connie to come and help you. She's more qualified anyway.’ He threw over his shoulder as stepped through the doorway, only to be stopped when you called his name.

“You have every right to be a part of this baby’s life.” You started, expression softening a little “I just… I just don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to take care of me just because I’m carrying your child.”

“But that’s exactly what I am.” He turned to face you, tears pooling in those chocolate depths “It is my duty to care for the woman who’s to give me the greatest gift I’ve ever received. So I will do that however you’ll let me. Not because I need to.” He paused, locking eyes with yours “But because I want to.”

You nodded at him, giving him a weak smile before picking up the bowl of soup he left beside you and hummed in delight at the savoury flavours.

“Did you make this yourself?” You asked and he nodded shyly “This is really good. How did you learn to cook like this?”

“I nursed my mum through cancer.” He replied honestly and you looked up at him in shock “Kinda taught myself to cook so that I could take care of her and pops. He uh… Well, he didn’t cope well with her illness. Even worse when she passed.”

“Javier I-”

“I’m glad you like it Hermosa.” He interrupted with a smile, changing the subject “I’ll be just out here if you need anything.” He finished and you nodded, watching him leave whilst your heart ached for him.

~

3 months along…

“So the baby is around the size of a plumb now according to the baby book I got.” Exclaimed Javier excitedly and you smiled sweetly at him.

“You read a baby book?” Snorted Steve as he laughed at Javier’s statement, earning a smack on the arm from his wife.

“I think it’s sweet.” Announced Connie as she gave Javi’s arm a friendly squeeze.

“Have you told work yet?” Steve asked you, taking a swig of his beer.

“No.” You replied, shrugging as you spoke “We wanted to wait another month. Just to be sure everything’s… well you know.”

“Makes sense.” Connie replied as she placed a steaming mug of herbal tea in front of you “So there’s been no complications from…” She trailed off and you caught the hurt that flashed in Javier’s eyes.

“No.’ You replied simply, giving him a regretful look “We’re both very lucky.” You finished as you placed a hand on your slight bump.

“Still can’t believe you tried to get rid of it yourself.” Said Steve, not seeing the glares he then received from you and Connie.

Javier felt his stomach twist at the memory of it. Standing abruptly from his seat and making a b-line for the bathroom, Steve watched his partner leave with confusion etched into his features before finally turning his head to see the angry stares of you and his wife.

“You really do need to work on your mental filter Steve.” Connie growled as she turned to look at you “I’m sorry. You okay?”

“I am but Javi…”

“He’ll be okay,” Steve waved off but you shook your head.

“No… You don’t...” You paused a moment, remembering the conversation you and he had shared a few weeks back ‘It still hurts him to know I tried.”

…

2 weeks prior…

‘So I got this baby book.” Said Javier as he placed a large paper bag down on the table “And don’t be mad, but I got a few other things.”

“Javier I’m not even 3 months along.” You chuckled “There’s still a risk that-”

“That what?” Javier asked, his tone taking you by surprise.

“That I could lose it.” You said, voice cracking a little when you saw the expression that spread across his face “I just don’t want to jinx it.”

“You tried to get rid of it and it came through that. I’m sure-”

“Why are you still holding that over me?” You snapped “I made a mistake Javier. You need to move on.”

“Move on?” He growled, tears forming in his eyes “Move on from the fact you tried to kill our baby?”

“I was scared, Javier!” You yelled “I let you in, gave myself to you and you rejected me. Quite publicly I might add.” You paused as you tried to calm your breathing “I’m then forced to take two months off because I became the talk of the embassy and in that time I find out I’m pregnant. How was I supposed to feel about it all Javier?”

“You should have come and talked to me.” He said, tears streaming down his cheeks “I would have-”

“You would have what?” You pried “Welcomed me with open arms? Told me that we could be a happy family and that you’d made a mistake telling me I was nothing more than a stress relief exercise?”

“I never said that.”

“Oh no… we were just two friends comforting each other right.” You scoffed “Except I was in love with you...” You stopped yourself there, unable to believe that you’d just blurted that out. “I’m glad you want to be a part of this baby's life, Javier. It’s not exactly the sort of situation I’d ever expected to have a child but we have to play with the cards we’re dealt. So why don’t we just agree not to discuss the horrific thing I tried to do and just celebrate and enjoy this experience.” You paused as you took his hands in yours “I’m sorry I nearly took them from you. I know it hurts you and it pains me that I inflicted that on you but they’re here.” You placed his hand on your stomach “Growing inside me, safe and sound. We’re going to be okay.”

He'd simply nodded, unable to say anything else on the matter but he knew that he needed to try and move on as you said. It had all turned out for the best.

Right?

…

Steve sat there in shock, reeling from what you’d just told him. His partner hadn’t talked much about what had happened, it had been Connie in the end that had told him, after gaining your permission of course.

“I should go talk to him.” You said as you pushed yourself to your feet, only to be stopped by Steve.

“Let me.” He said as he stood from his seat “My fault he’s upset.” He finished as he made his way to where Javier had gone.

He found his partner staring down at a sleeping Olivia, shoulders shaking as he desperately tried to keep his internal struggle from slipping to the surface. He didn’t notice his partner step up behind him and tensed when the man's hand landed on his shoulder.

“What you doing in here partner?” He asked softly, glancing at his sleeping daughter before returning his attention to Javier.

“What if I’m no good?” He asked, taking Steve off guard.

“What do you mean brother?”

“What if I don’t make a good father?” He asked, letting out a shuddering breath “She tried to terminate the pregnancy because she didn’t think I’d want this.”

“Well, you did publicly humiliate her.”

“Fuck I know that Steve.” Javier growled as he fell back into the soft armchair beside Olivia’s cot “I made a mistake but something really wonderful has come out of that. I just… I dunno how this is going to work.”

“Do you love her?” He asked, perching on the changing table opposite his companion.

“No.” He replied, shaking his head “I mean she's attractive and we had a great time but no… I don’t love her. I’m not looking for anything more with her.”

“Well, I dunno how to advise you then man.” Steve sighed, scraping a hand over his mouth “All I can say is that you’re an idiot. She's an incredible woman and you’d be lucky to be with someone like her.”

“Trust me I know but… I don’t know I guess I just don’t know her well enough.”

“Well then make an effort to. See where that takes you and if you still don’t feel anything for her then fine but you owe it to her and your baby to at least try and see if there’s something there.” His partner finished as he got to his feet and placed a comforting hand over his shoulder “Just think about it Javi.”

…

“I should see what’s taking them so long.” You said, your nervousness getting the better of you “I’ll be right back.” You said over your shoulder to Connie before getting to your feet and making your way to where you knew Steve and Javier were, stopping when you heard their voices.

“Well, you did publicly humiliate her.”

“Fuck I know that Steve.” You let out a stuttered breath as you continued to listen “I made a mistake but something really wonderful has come out of that. I just… I dunno how this is going to work.”

“Do you love her?” Your breath caught in your throat as you awaited his answer.

“No.”

Your heart shattered.

“I mean she's attractive and we had a great time but no… I don’t love her. I’m not looking for anything more with her.”

You couldn’t listen a moment longer. You made your way back to the kitchen where Connie was finishing up with the dishes, grabbing your cardigan and purse.

“You off?” She asked, noting the change in your demeanour as you headed towards the front door.

“Yeah, I uh…” You paused, trying to keep yourself together but failing miserably “I’m tired. Say good night to Steve from me.” You choked before heading out the door, finally allowing yourself to fall apart the moment you were out of sight.

…

“She gone?” Asked Steve as he and Javier made their way back into the lounge.

“Yeah just a moment ago.” Connie stated as she looked at them both “She seemed pretty upset.” Her concern was evident in her features.

Javier’s stomach dropped. He said nothing, just sprinted out the door where he found you curled up on the ground as your tears fell freely. He was at your side in the blink of an eye, crouching down in front of you as he tried, desperately, to get you to look at him.

“Hermosa.” He pleaded and you finally look at him “What's wrong? Is it the baby?”

“Leave me alone Javier.” You growled, your sadness dissolving into anger.

“What is it?” He asked again and you scoffed at him.

“I think it would be best if we go our separate ways, Javier.” You said as you pushed him away and got to your feet “This isn’t going to work. I’m going to go and you can go back to screwing whoever takes your fancy. You aren’t cut out for this.” You finished as you cradled your small bump.

He recoiled at that, his own insecurities finally breaking free.

“I won’t stop you from seeing them. I’ll send you my address when I’m settled and if you want to come and see them then that's fine.”

“You’re leaving?”

“We both know I can’t stay here.” You growled.

“But the baby.” He sobs “I’ll miss everything.”

“You were going to miss that anyway.” You spat as you made your way over to the stairs “You’re a fool if you think you were actually going to see this through. We both know you can’t commit.”

With that, you left, stalking down the stairs and leaving a broken man in your wake. You were right. Of course, you were. He wasn’t cut out to be a father, he was deceiving himself and yet he'd wanted so desperately to try. Steve’s words floated around in his head. He should try to get to know you, to try and make a go of it but how could he when you wanted nothing to do with him. He wasn't against the idea of a relationship with one woman, he'd tried once before with Lorraine but that had crumbled to the ground.

Could things be different with you?

Sinking to the floor he allowed himself to weep. To mourn the loss of his child for he knew that you’d keep them from him, you were right to. The floor is where Connie found him a short time later and it was where she held him as he cried. When his tears dried up she pulled him inside, comforted him as he slowly turned into a shell of the man he once was and Steve knew this was his fault. He had to fix it. He just wasn’t sure how.

~

2 weeks later…

Steve had worked hard to try and bring the two of you together. You’d not mentioned leaving again but you’d also not spoken to his partner since that night. He had pleaded with you to try, told you how broken Javier had been since then but you struggled to believe the agent. You’d heard what Javier had said, he didn’t want to be with you and that he wasn’t sure how this was going to work. You knew what that meant. So you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

You had to do right by your unborn child.

Steve continued to plead Javier’s case, however, telling you that the man was terrified to approach you for fear you would slam the door in his face you gave the blonde an opening. If Javier could come to you and make you believe that he was serious you would stay. If he couldn’t you would leave. Little did you know that the two DEA agents would be shipped off to Medellin for two weeks before he even got the chance.

Javier knocked on your door, flowers in hand and he nervously shifted from one foot to the other but when no answer came his brows furrowed in confusion and he knocked again. He'd had time in Medellin to think about things. To think about how he did want to try and make a go of things. Just because he wasn't in love with you now... Didn't mean that wouldn't come with time. He'd started to picture the family he could have with you and his heart had swelled at the idea. Knocking a third and final time he let out a frustrated sigh.

Still nothing.

Resigned to the fact you weren’t home, he sprinted upstairs and knocked on his partner's door, knowing his wife would be home with, hopefully, a little update on how you were. He’d read in the baby book that morning that now, at 14 weeks, the baby was around the size of a nectarine and that had excited him to no end. He had wondered if your bump had gotten any bigger and how you’d been coping with the morning sickness, something that had been a struggle when he’d last spoken to you.

“Javi.” Said Connie as she opened the door, Olivia in her arms “What are you doing here?” She asked as she bounced her fussy baby in her arms.

“Is she here?” He asked, saying your name when Connie gave him a bemused expression.

“You don’t know?” She questioned, her face crumpling at the realisation that he couldn't have.

“Know what?” He asked, his pulse racing as he watched Connie’s expression change to one he struggled to read “Connie where is she?”

“She left.”

Part 3

[wisewidow]

No More Suffering

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

SUMMARY: Wanda doesn't have anything left to lose, except you.

I slip the key into the lock and twist the doorknob, entering the apartment I'd been sharing with Wanda for us to recuperate in ever since the battle against Thanos' forces, and then being snapped out of existence only to have to fight him again, five years later, though it only felt like minutes to us. I had the money and the means to live on my own, true, but I'd grown close to Wanda in our time on the run and I knew the death of Vision was hitting her hard. I set down the groceries on the counter and call out to my friend to let her know I'm home. She doesn't reply, but this doesn't worry me until ten minutes later when I've finished unpacking the food and started preparing her favourite dinner, chicken paprikash.

I stop stirring the wooden spoon in the pot and sigh. "Wanda?" I call out again. "You need to eat, sweetie, please."

I hear a door slowly swing open and muted footsteps as she pads into the room. She freezes like a deer in headlights the moment she reaches me, slowly glancing down into the pot with horror. Her eyes well with tears.

"Wanda?" I drop the spoon and circle the counter quickly, holding her close as she starts sobbing into my shoulder. "Wanda, what's wrong?"

"Vision— he made— always made it for me—" She screws her eyes shut and buries her face deeper in my neck. I hold onto her arms and slowly lower us to the floor, pulling her into my lap and rocking her back and forth soothingly. In my mind, I'm cursing myself, having just remembered that it was indeed what Vision made for her when they got the chance in their two years on the run.  I rub circles into her back, hoping that she'll calm down enough for me to apologise, wishing I had another arm to knock the whole pot of dinner into the garbage so she wouldn't have to look at it.

We stay in this position for an uncountable amount of time, all I know is that it was long enough for my legs to start aching from her weight. Eventually, though, I manage to instruct her through breathing exercises and comfort her enough that her sobs cease into small whimpers, and those into even smaller sniffles, until finally she reaches the stage we always seem to end up at: numbness.

Her expression is blank. She stares into the distance, eyes puffy and red and lined with bags.

"Where have you gone?" I ask gently.

"You're all I have left," comes her soft reply.

"Wanda," I squeeze her shoulders. "That's not true."

She shakes her head, eyes suddenly wide. "What if . . . something happens. Stark's bomb. Ultron. Thanos. I can't live through any more loss, (Y/N), please, you have to understand what I've done."

I reel back in confusion. "What are you talking about, Wanda? What did you do?"

"Now is no time to mourn. That's what he said, when he killed him. Now is no time at all." A deep crimson colour replaces her sad, green eyes. My heart beats a little faster.

"Wanda."

She meets my eyes. Red tendrils of her power seep around us, embalming us. "I have to protect you."

"Wanda, stop it!"

"No more suffering," she whispers.

And then there was nothing at all.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Goodbye

Characters → Y/N & Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester [mentioned]

Summary → Y/N can’t fight her feelings anymore, she has to leave.

Prompt → “I didn’t have it in me to go with grace.” [In bold]

Word Count → 1.3k

Warnings → 18+, canon typical violence, angst. no happy ending.

Beta → @writethelifeyouwant // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This is for @negans-lucille-tblr 'roll the dice' challenge, enjoy the angst! Well, it’s been a while since I wrote about our Dean, but looks like I’ve gone straight in for the kill. Sorry, not sorry. As always, love feedback, comments and reblogs!

Masterlist

Sam understood why Y/N was packing to leave. Dean didn’t.

“You can’t leave.” Dean’s voice was stern as he stood in the doorway of the motel room, arms crossed with authority. “Please wait a few days, rest up. We can talk about this then.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know how to bluff her way through this, couldn’t avoid how she felt about Dean bursting out in an array of words that would leave her in more pain than ever before. Her only option was to leave. She couldn’t have this conversation, it hurt too much and it would end up the same way no matter how she worded it. She would be rejected by Dean and must leave the Winchesters.

The pain of goodbye rested heavy in her heart with each item that she packed away; the plaid shirt that Dean had accidentally shrunk - looks better on you anyways - the notebooks that Sam had given her to deal with the demons in her head, and then the polaroid of the three of them leaning against the Impala - be careful, don’t scratch Baby. It has nearly faded now, almost five years have passed since that day.

Y/N zipped up the duffel bag, tucking away her memories to gain the courage to finish her mission to leave. She gave Dean a sad smile before she squeezed by him, the doorframe rubbing against her back. His hand wrapped around her forearm, pulling her closer to him. A hug; one that was unlike the others. Her face crushed against his chest while his arms circled her shoulders.

Dean consumed her; his warmth radiating from his skin and the mixture of sandalwood and whiskey on his plaid shirt. A soft sigh escaped her lips, she relished the moment for as long as she could before the tears began to prick at her eyes.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N,” Dean muttered into her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice cracking. It was unlike anything she’d heard before. “You’re more than a friend to me.”

Y/N pulled away, “but you don’t love me.”

She left, ignoring the pain in Dean’s eyes and the call of her name. She climbed into the truck and pulled away from the parking lot without a second glance.

If Y/N had looked in the rearview mirror when she left, she would have seen Sam holding onto Dean as he thrashed to be released. All he wanted to do was jump into Baby and follow Y/N, demand that she stay. Bring her back to them. To him.

Because he did love her. He just didn’t realise how much until she left.

Emptiness. An endless echo in his heart. Beating, but aching deeply. His lungs pulled taut in his chest. A silent scream in his head, all-consuming pain in his thoughts. Adrenaline pumped erratically through his veins. He dragged Y/N away from the horror in the alleyway behind him.

Dean collapsed beside her unconscious body, one hand placed pressure on the wound at her stomach, a feeble attempt to stop the blood pouring out and saturating the concrete sidewalk. His other fingers fumbled to feel a pulse against Y/N’s wrist, her blood-stained neck. 

Her blood matted hair was pushed away from her face. Dean pulled Y/N closer and willed her to wake. He screamed out her name while his blurred vision found his brother, who frantically dialled 911.

He couldn’t lose her. Not now.

Y/N finally dared to listen to the hundreds of voicemails that Dean had left. She did the right thing in ignoring them, or so she thought. At first, she felt better to keep herself at a distance but then came the itch to check in with Sam now and then. 

She needed to let him know how she was and where she’d been, to hear where the Winchesters were headed next. To hear a little bit of how Dean was doing. Y/N knew that his brother wouldn’t keep quiet about the calls and inevitably a few days later a notification would appear to indicate she had a new voicemail.

Most of them were mumbled words or cut off seconds into the message. The others, well, they stirred the hurt and pain in her already broken heart.

‘Fucksake Y/N. I wish you’d stayed.’

‘I can’t sleep at night, knowing you’re out there on your own. Not that you can’t handle yourself. Ah, fuck.’

‘Why do you talk to Sam and not me? What did I do?’

‘Y/N - hiccup- please. I need you - hiccup - come home.’

‘I miss you. I miss you deep down in my bones.’

‘I need to tell you something. Please meet me - us. Sam can be there too if you feel uncomfortable.’

Tears cascaded down Y/N’s face as she processed every message.

She went through her plan of what she was going to say a thousand times. Over and over in her head like a record stuck on repeat. She didn’t decide until she was one hundred percent certain about the next step. The step that involved calling Sam to meet them at a local dive bar.

Y/N awoke to the smell of bleach and beeps of machines, the slumped Winchesters in the too-small plastic chairs at the bedside. Tears pricked at her eyes as she took in their worn-out states; unwashed hair and dark circles tarnishing the skin beneath their eyes. They looked worse than when they were trying to save the world.

Images of what happened flashed through Y/N’s mind; Sam researching a case, her, and Dean at a dive bar. Dean with some beautiful woman in sexy tight-fitting clothes. Of course. Y/N fleeing to the street in tears. Knowing he’d never change, that she would never be enough.

She hadn’t seen the hooded man lurking in the alleyway, not until he dragged her down it and plunged the knife -  

A scream rushed through her lips, unable to cope with the memories that reeled like a film but now stuck in a loop of cold blue eyes full of anger and hate. Dean’s hands were on Y/N’s arm to help calm her but she flinched and shuffled up the bed, unable to process the lack of danger. 

Her chest heaved with panic, eyes wide as Dean crouched low with his hands high to show that he meant no harm. Y/N’s eyes flicked to Sam as he remained seated, hands held in a similar stance.

In an instant, she was surrounded by doctors and nurses, her lungs felt like they were being filled with cement, her throat grew hoarse from the attempts to scream for her escape. A pair of strong hands, undeniably Dean’s, held her down while a white coat pulled a mask over her face. 

A sense of calm washed over Y/N, each heave of breath becoming easier, eyelids flickering closed as the Winchesters watched on in fear for one of their own.

When Dean awoke to his phone vibrating in his pocket, he looked immediately over to the bed. Y/N wasn’t there or anywhere to be found in the hospital. ‘Discharged herself’, a nurse told him. His phone vibrated a second time, a reminder of the message that was left unread. 

Y/N: I’m sorry. I didn't have it in myself to go with grace.

He’d lost her again.

Everything Tag List: @reann-loves-sebstan / @aroyaldarknessblr / @thefridgeismybestie / @kitkatd7 / @harold321

Supernatural Tag List: @deanwanddamons / @akshi8278​

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 12)

Synopsis: When your stereotypical Christian Grey meets his not so stereotypical Anna

Masterlist

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

- 

Honestly, after seeing Mrs Choi for the first time, I had no idea she would be one of those eccentric client who asks for a ridiculously edgy concept for her home.

It's always the most normal-looking ones...

I look away from the blueprints spread across my desk when I hear my phone buzzing. When I check I see it's a text message from Sidney.

Squidney : Wanna come home for your lunch break? I made lasagna

Her text makes me smile a little. We haven't been talking much ever since that fight after the inauguration party.

She made me feel like I was the unstable kid no one in the family trusts to take care of themselves. And honestly it's probably true that no one trusts me, but I feel like my words are not going to prove anything so I just have been focusing on work and not talking to her very much.

This text is definitely a truce appeal. And I don't like not talking to Sidney, but at the same time I don't know how to feel about the fact that every time I will tell her anything about Mr.Jeon or any other man she will probably disapprove, but not tell me so we don't fight. 

I’m scared of the hypocrisy.

“A windmill house?”

When I look up from my phone, I see Joon who had been brainstorming with me this morning, flipping through my folder.

“Focus.” I tell him, snatching it from his hands before he can find the contract I just printed out for Mr.Jeon.

I don't know how to make a contract so I just used one of our standard ones and put my name on it.

“In London?” He inquiries, sounding excited. I know right?! But I can’t be talking about this with you.

“Namjoon.” I admonish.

“Okay.” He gives up, sliding off my desk and looking back at the blueprints.

“I can give you an alcove, but not windows.” He says, pointing at the kitchen area. Wait what?

“I thought that was doable.” I retort.

“It is, but we’d need to restucture the entiere building. We don’t have the budget nor permission for it.” He explains. Well, he could just have said no when I asked him!

“Okay.” I murmur. So without concave windows. we're going to have to create the roundness inside the apartment.

“Don’t sulk.” I hear Joon coo next to me. 

“I’m not, I’m thinking.” I reply, retracting my pout and releasing my frown.

“Move the pantry here.” I propose, pointing at the space between two windows. One's in the kitchen, the other in the living-room.

“Here?” He doesn't sound convinced.

“We can use the gap between the old and new partitions as storage. And put the alcove here. It’ll be the limit between the kitchen and the living room." I explain. At this point I don't see any other option.

“That I can do. That’s actually a great idea.” Joon nods. Cool!

“Good Job.” He compliments, fist bumping me before exiting my office. Once I'm alone, I quickly text Sidney back.

Me: Lasagna sounds great, syl

I’m back home by 12:30, and when I open the door the delicious smell of cooking meat invades my nostrils. Just as I close the door, Juno trots up to me with her tail wagging happily. 

"Hi Juno!" I beam at her, kneeling to scratch her head. She looks so cute with her little blue bandana around her neck. She barks hello, and I drop a kiss on between her eyes.

When I walk further in, I find Sydney tying her hair up in a bun with a chopstick behind the kitchen counter.  The table is set for two.

"Hi." She smiles at me.

"Mmmmmh... lasagna!" I sing, tossing my bag on the couch. I join her in the kitchen and kneel in front of the oven. "Smells amazing." I observe. The lasgna is almost ready, I can see the meat juices bubbling under the cheese. She really makes the best lasagna.

"Thank you for the food, Sidney." I thank her, standing up and pecking her cheek.

"You're welcome." She hums, and even though we still haven’t talked about our fight, I know I can’t stay mad at her. 

Since everything is set and all that’s missing is the lasagna, we both sit down at the table and open a beer.

"We haven't been hanging out much so this is great." I say after we clink our bottles.

"I know, I wanted to say I'm sorry." She replies, looking at me with sad eyes.

"It's fine, really. I know you're just looking out for me." I counter. It was a silly argument. Ultimately, I understand her. I wish she didn’t think this way, but I understand where this is coming from, and I can’t be expecting anything else from her. Or anyone from my family.

"No, I'm sorry for making you think I don't trust you." She argues. "I'm just scared."

"Listen, I know how similar these two men are. Trust me, it's been weird for me too." I say reassuringly. "But somehow he hasn't made me feel how I'd be feeling before." I add. "Quite the opposite actually."

I frown as the words leave my mouth. It’s only hitting me now that in a way, Mr.Jeon is nothing like the type of man he looks like. I have all these preconceptions about him, and while he still hasn’t proved me wrong, I can’t say I feel like I’m right about him yet.

"And I don't know what to do about it." I mutter to myself, drowning half of my sentence in the neck of my bottle. There’s a moment of silence, where Syd seems to be hesitating to speak.

"I just don't want to lose you again." She admits after a beat. I know everything comes down to that. I reach across the table and grab both of her hands.

"I know. And whatever happens I'm not letting him or anyone pull me away from my family." I affirm, looking straight into her eyes. "It's not happening again." I promise. She smiles and nods, seemingly reassured.

"You know," She trails off, rmoving her hands from mine and resting her chin on her palm. After all this time you've been part of my family, I still didn't think you liked Asians."

"What the hell?” I laugh out loud. This girl!

"I don't know, I just never thought of it." She giggle with me. I shake my head at her as our laughter fades.

"Promise me you're being careful." She demands quietly.

"I am being careful, Sidney." I promise.  "You know, what made me really mad the other day was…”I pause, looking for the right words. "That somehow you think I didn't learn my lesson?"

"No, that's not what I think." She shakes her head vigorously. "I just-" She pauses and thinks for a second. "I trust you, but I worry still." She says.

I’m not expecting any less from her.

"I think..." She trails off, but chokes on her words, and her eyes become shiny with fresh tears. Oh, no!

"Sidney, come on." I scold as she blinks her tears away.

"Shut up, let me talk." She snaps, aborting the waterworks. She sighs deeply, her eyes still very wet. I hate seeing her like this.

"I think seeing you with a man brings back a lot of memories." She explains, her voice still shaking. "Your therapist said your first relationship after B-"

"Woah woah woah, who talked about a relationship?" I stop her dead in her tracks. I understand her worry, but I’m not trying to date anyone. Yes, Mr.Jeon and I are flirting, but we both know what to expect.

"Even a quick shag, she said it's bound to bring back memories." She argues.

"I told you, he still hasn't made me feel like that." I retort.

"I know, and that's great." She says. "But we also had our own trauma that me and your parents and everyone else went through." She argues.

"And obviously it's not as dramatic as it sounds but,” She says, shaking her head. "Knowing that you're potentially seeing someone, it kinda feels like PTSD." She says to me.

"I understand." I reply. I guess, neither me nor my family is prepared for me seeing someone again. After all, it’s something that I hadn’t thought of in a while, not even once.

“And if I feel unprepared for you being out there again, imagine how your parents will react.” Sydney adds.

“I’d rather not.” I reply. Honestly I’d rather stay single.

“It’s going to feel so sudden for them, because they’re not even witnessing the talking stages-“

“I’m not dating this man.” I remind her. I won’t have to introduce anyone to my parents for still a very long time!

“Still.” She retorts. “It’s going to be difficult for them. And they’re probably going to make you feel worse than I did.” She says as a warning. She’s right. My parents will probably reject anyone I bring home out of pure protectiveness, without even trying to get to know them.

“But always out of love for you.” She adds. My mind is reeling. Me getting a boyfriend will be such a headache.

“Let’s postpone the moment as much as possible then.” I sigh, grabbing my beer. “Shagging only.” I toast, and it’s like a promise at this pont. Sydney laughs at me, but still mimics me.

“Shagging only.” She repeats after me.

- 

After a rather calm day at work, I drive down to Mr.Jeon's office in the City. It's a place I've never been to in the 2 years I've been living here in London, because why would I? I earn half of what the worst paid people here make.

My red mini doesn't fit between this tall grey skyscrapers, Mercedes and Audi's around me.

Mr.Jeon told me to park in the underground parking lot after announcing myself to the guard, before going to the first floor to announce myself again. The building is almost empty as it is past working hours.

After getting clearance, I'm escorted by a pretty brunette up to the 17th and last floor. I pass countless empty offices, until my guide stops in front of the sole lit up room. The wall is glass, so I can see about a dozen people inside.

"Mr.Jeon is in a meeting right now." The woman informs me. "You can wait for him right here."

She points at two chairs in the hallway placed by a closed office, right across from the meeting room.

"Thank you." I smile politely at her before taking a seat. The chair happens to be placed near the back of the meeting room, where I finally spot Mr.Jeon, sat down at the end of the table.

The motion of me sitting down catches his attention. He looks outside and spots me. I give him a smile and a slight nod to say hello. He smiles back to me, before reaching in his pocket and pulling his phone out. He starts typing, and I receive a text seconds later.

Mr.Jeon : You're early.

No, he’s late.

Me : I didn't want you to fire me again. 

I type back, press send and look up to dee his reaction. He smirks, looked amused as he types his answer.

Mr.Jeon : I would never. He writes back, followed by:

Mr.Jeon : You look very pretty today.

I purse my lips to stifle the unwanted smile creeping on my face. He's probably looking at me to watch me swoon and melt at his comment, but I won't give him this satisfaction.

When I look up, his eyes aren't on me. He's back into his meeting, looking straight ahead at the different numbers on  screen across the table.

Me : Texting during a meeting? I reply, deciding not to acknowledge the compliment. When he gets the notifications, he makes a quick matter of his response.

Mr.Jeon : Take the compliment. 

Oh this feels like an order. This man would love to boss me around.

Me : I don't like your tone. I retort.

When he sees my text, his head immediately turns to me, his eyebrows raised and his eyes challenging.

I shrug a shoulder, indicating I don't care if he doesn't like what he just read.

The corner of his mouth jerks a little, and he rolls his tongue against his cheek to refrain a smile, before looking back at his phone. I receive a text shortly after.

Mr.Jeon : Take the compliment, please. 

Me: No.

When he gets the text, his eyes shoot up at me, and he slowly shakes his head, seemingly amused.

But he doesn't reply. He instead focuses on the words being said inside the room. I watch as he suddenly frowns, and then start flipping through a pile of paper he has in front of him.

I don't hear what he's saying but he looks confused and slightly annoyed. He tells something to the man presenting, clearly reproachful.

Me: What's the meeting about? I ask out of curiousness. He doesn't look at my text until the issue is settled and his employee gives him a satisfying answer.

I'm already scrolling through my Instagram timeline when I get his response. Three texts in a row.

Mr.Jeon : Boring stuff 

Mr.Jeon : And finances

Mr.Jeon : What are you doing tonight?

Of course he'd ask. I smile at my phone.

Me: I don't think it's any of your business.

Mr.Jeon : Why do you assume I'm asking for unprofessional purposes?

Me: Because you probably are

Mr.Jeon : I wish Maya

Me: It’s Miss Fair for you

Mr.Jeon : Are you staying for dinner, Miss Fair?

Me: I'll have to decline...

I'm only declining to play hard to get. I would love to have dinner with him. Heck, I know I would want to take it even further. But I should be careful. I just promised Sid.

Mr.Jeon sits up first, buttoning his dark blue suit and signaling the end of the meeting. It is now 7:15. Everyone in the meeting follows, gets up and packs up, while Mr.Jeon exits the room first. I rise from my seat.

"Miss Fair." He greets me once he’s at my level.

"Hello, Mr. Jeon." I smile it him, extending my hand.

"Sorry for making you wait." He says to me, taking my hand shanking it.

"No worries." I reply, very well aware of the female employee taking her sweet time exiting the meeting room so she can stare at me. Does everyone in his company want to fuck him? Probably honestly.

“Long day?” I ask him. I can’t imagine having meetings until seven.

“Indeed. And you’ve already made it better.” He replies, successfully earning a chuckle from me.

"I have that effect on people sometimes." I shoot back.

"It's not the only one you have." He concurs. Oh, please. 

“Let me show you to my office.” He invites, before guiding me down the hall to the door at the very end of the corridor.

After tying a code, Mr.Jeon opens the door that leads into his office. 

It's a big, almost empty room. The back wall is entirely glass, making for a sweet landscape painting of downtown London. He has a rather small desk, with a leather ergonomic chair and two other ones placed across from him. As I walk further in, I notice a black leather sofa against the wall near the door, a chest of drawers and storage spaces and a sad single tall plant.

"This place is so sad." The words are out before I can understand how rude they are. I spin around to face Mr.Jeon, who is closing the door behind us. He's frowning at me.

"I'm sorry." I stutter, feeling my cheeks heat up. 

"I mean empty." I correct myself. He pauses for a second, and I believe the quick exhale of air he does after that is a quiet chuckle.

"I don't spend that much time here." He says in a way of explaining. "But I'll be happy to have you work on my office as well." He adds. This man always has his goal in mind.

"I'll think about it." I reply evasively.

“Have a seat.” He invites. I sit my butt on on the chair and watch him walk over to the left side of the room. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He proposes. Thats when I realize the storage spaces I saw where built-in furniture.

“You have a fridge in your office?” I don't know why I'm so amazed.

“I also have a bathroom with a shower and the sofa’s convertible.” He replies. A bathroom?

“You spend nights here?” I ask him.

“Sometimes." He answers simply. Woah. "Wine?” He offers. 

This man is always trying to get me drunk! Or maybe he's just trying to make me stay.

“I just need a quick signature.” I decline politely.

“Where’s the rush? Aren’t you off work?” He retorts.

“I am, but I'm not drinking tonight Mr.Jeon."

"Okay." He doesn't push, and instead closes the fridge and walks back to me. He takes place in his seat while I fish into my bag looking for my folder.

“This is the contract I prepared for you.” I announce once I've found it. I pull it out and place it on the table.

“This is just a standard contract from Union, I just put my name on it.” I explain, flipping through the first four page until I find the one where my payment is mentioned. I flip the document around and slide it across the table to he can read, but he doesn't even look at it, just watches me with intent. I tap down on the page.

“Fifteen percent.” I point out, since it’s the percentage we’ve agreed on. He doesn’t even look down at where I’m pointing at, just keeps staring at me with this cheeky smile of his.

“Where do I sign?” He asks me. This man, I swear. 

I sigh in order to try and hide my amusement.

“I thought you needed to read it through.” I remind him.

“I changed my mind.” He retorts. Oh, I’m sure he hadn’t planned on reading anything in the first place… It’s so annoying that his cheesy tactics still make my stomach feel funny.

I break the eye contact first, looking at the contract while I flip all the pages. “You can sign here, and here.” I indicate him. I watch him as he clicks his pen and scribbles onto the paper. 

“Thank you very much.” I say, grabbing the papers and putting them back in the folder.

“Anything else I can do for you?” He asks as I put back in my purse.

“I think I have everything I need.” I smile at him.

“Can I make a request, then?” He enquires, joining his hands on the table.

“Are you going to ask me to have dinner with you?”

“Will you say yes?”

“No.”

“Then no, that’s not my request.” He brushes off, shrugging. Oh?

“What can I do for you?” I ask him, resting my chin onto my fist.

“Can you answer my question as honestly as possible?” He asks, leaning a little bit closer to me.

“Sure.” I reply, hoping he's not going to be too indiscreet.

"That time when you called me after the inauguration of the Manor." He trails off. Oh, lord.

"What would have happened had I said yes?" He asks me. I take a second to remember the mindset I was in that night.

I was definitely very tipsy, but I also was very horny.

"I think we would've set a date." I reply."And after sobering up I would've chickened out probably." I say, because let's be realistic.

"Mmh..." He nods, still trying to read something in my eyes. Why is he asking me that anyways?

"Do you regret not accepting the offer?" I ask him. He's probably getting impatient. After all the farthest he's ever gone with me is touching my neck.

"I'm wondering what was different that night." He replies. "You were a lot more...open."

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

"Part of it was because of the alcohol." I argue.

"I figured." He says to me. "I was hoping it wasn't only that." He murmurs a little more quietly.

I stare at him for a second. Why does this small, unused part of my brain think he's actually trying with me?

"Can you answer my question?" I counter, mimicking him and joining my hands.

"Sure." 

"Promise to be honest?"

He smiles a little when I say that, and his gaze grows warm.

"I promise." He murmurs softly.

"How many women are you sleeping with?"

"Zero." He replies immediately. OH SURE!

He doesn't even try to come up with a credible number. Why did I think he would actually tell me the truth in the first place.

I roll my eyes to the heavens, leaning back against my seat in disappointment.

"Maya." He chuckles, pushing himself off of his desk.

"I have been working since seven in the morning. I've had five meetings, no lunch break, and I have a flight tomorrow morning for Dubai where I'll have to meet 13 potential clients in less than four days," He says to me, slowly circling his desk so he's closer to me.

"All while attending boring society functions and pretending I care about how many cars my investors have." He says, leaning against his desk when he's right next to me.

"I don't have time for more than one woman, but most importantly I don't have time for lies." He reassures me. I don't know if I believe that, but that does sound like a busy schedule. I don't see how he could fit multiple women in there. 

"Why waste your precious time on me then?" I sass, because why not? I cross my arms over my chest and lift a challenging eyebrow at him.

"I wouldn't do it if I considered it a waste of my time." He mimics me.

"Then why?" I ask, and he pauses for a second.

"I'm not sure." He says, shrugging. Oh.

There is a knock on the door that interrupts our discussion. Mr.Jeon slips off his desk and goes over to open it. I turn around out of curiosity, to see who’s behind the door. It’s his assistant Jimin.

"Yes, Jimin?" Mr.Jeon says to him. His assistant's eyes quickly scan the background and land on me. He then looks back at Mr.Jeon.

"Am I bothering?" He asks him.

"Be quick." Mr.Jeon replies. I might as well get ready to leave. I was just supposed to get a signature tonight. Chatting and flirting is fun, but it's getting late.

"Paul confirmed eight thirty tonight. Here are your keys." I hear Jimin explain to him while I look away.

"Thank you, Jimin." 

"You're welcome. Goodnight." He says, and just like that he's gone. I get up from my seat and swing my bag over my shoulder.

When I turn around Mr.Jeon is is standing by the open door.

"You're leaving?" He asks me.

"Don't you have a date at eight thirty?" I remind him, joining him at the door. "With Paul?" I tease, making him chuckle.

"A date with Paul?" He laughs, opening the door for me. "He's not really my type." He says as I step out.

"And he's my personal trainer if you're wondering." I hear him add as he closes the door behind us.

"And you were ready to go have dinner with me?" I challenge as we walk down the corridor towards the elevators. 

 "I'll trade a workout with Paul for dinner with you anytime." He says smoothly, looking down at me. I huff out a laugh, shaking my head.

Once we get to the elevators, I press the call button.

"Why are you asking? Have you changed your mind about dinner?" He asks me. 

"Not yet." I reply, turning to face him. He's standing closer to me than I expected.

He lets out a long sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. I'm feeling playful.

"You could convince me." I tease, shrugging a shoulder. Just as I say these words, the doors to the elevator open.

"Convince you?" He repeats, his interest peaked. We step inside the elevator.

"How long do I have?" He asks me as I lean against the wall, grabbing the railing behind me. He goes to the opposite side to press the basement floor button.

"Just an elevator ride." I challenge just as the doors close on the both of us and the elevator starts moving down. An incredibly sexy smirk creeps across his face when I say that.

"What game are you playing right now, Maya?" He asks, eyes playful, taking a slow step towards me.

"I'm giving you a chance." I shrug, as he slowly approches me. I feel like he's going to jump me any second.

I should get him off his high horses.

"But you have to convince me..." I trail off, catching him trying to pull his hands out of his pockets.

"Without touching me." I murmur, when he's inches away from me. I swallow, all my confidence slowly leaving me. My eyes travel between his eyes and his lips.

Even though I just told him not to touch me, if he kisses me right now, I don't know what I'd do with myself.

"Without touching you." He repeats, looking both confused and amused. I nod, because I don't trust my voice to be steady enough. 

I feel the elevator slow down prematurely, indicating an impromptu stop. Mr.Jeon steps back, and that's when I realize I kind of had stopped breathing.

I straighten my back and turn away from him as the elevator comes to a full stop. The door open onto a man pushing a cleaning cart. A janitor.

After stiff greetings, the employee pushes his cart in, taking place right between me and Mr.Jeon.

Well, there goes whatever was going to happen there.

The ride down is silent, and it seems like the storage room is on the basement floor as well because that's where we all get off.

Mr.Jeon and I let him walk off while we linger in front of the elevators. My mini also happens to be parked right in front of us.

When our eyes finally meet after he's gone, we're both tempted to laugh.

"You failed." I observe, facing him.

"Well, there wasn't much I could do, was there?" He chuckles. True, true. I wish I could know he was going to say... or do to me.

"Maybe next time?" I say, well aware of the inviting tone of my voice.

"Maybe." He nods.

"Have a safe trip." I add over my shoulder, walking over to my car.

"Thank you, Maya. Get home safe." He replies, watching me get in and drive off.

[starrywolf101]

For the zombieinnit thing what about different people finding out how fragile Tommy is

The 5 Times Tommy Gets Hurt

(+1 he gets protected)

1 - Jack Manifold

He had a brief interaction with Manifold on the day he left the prison, but he was still reeling and not truly listening to anything Jack said. That day was more of a blur than anything.

But now here he was, wanting Jack to stop rebranding the hotel. It was only a couple weeks since the last time he'd seen the other, but by now he's made more strides in recovering. Nobody but Puffy, Sam, Tubbo, Ranboo, and Michael knew about his zombie status yet.

Currently Jack Manifold and him were locked in a glaring content, both of his eyes locked onto the other's heterochromic eyes.

"Look, Jack, you can keep managing it and everything, but I really need you to remember that it's my property. Not yours, you arse."

Apparantly not liking that answer, Jack sneers and shoves Tommy. Freezing up in fear, Tommy doesn't even trying to defend himself from the attack. He loses his balance and falls to the ground, skull hitting the floor with a sickening crack. Regret flairs through Jack's veins as he immediately drops to his knees to check over the kid. Tommy's eyes are glazed over as he stares blankly up. His mind is replaying the moment he died over and over again, when his skull was slammed into the obsidian floor. Back in the present, Jack calls Sam Nook for help, the robot had been standing outside the hotel as per usual. He didn't actually want Tommy dead... again,,

When the robot had started helping Tommy, the kid's new... symptoms having been recorded into It's database, Jack had nearly puked. The back of Tommy's head, where he had hit the ground, looked rotted, and... ew was that Tommy's brain??? How was the kid still awake!?

He watches in shock as Sam Nook pours a potion of harming onto Tommy's injury, nearly jumping in to stop the robot, before watching with widened eyes as the wound healed...

"YOU WILL SPEAK NOTHING OF THIS JACK MANIFOLD."

Jack had nodded silently and fled the scene. There was so much to process...

2 - Sapnap

Sapnap and Tommy have always had a... complicated relationship. Sometimes they got along, and other times they were against each other. But since Dream had cut all attachments, Tommy had shown sympathy and reached out an olive branch to the other, and Sapnap had taken it. They still don't always get along perfectly, but its back to how it used to be... playful teasing and pranks!

But since the kid had left the prison, he's been... quieter. Seeing Tommy so quiet felt wrong.

In fact, he rarely saw the kid nowadays.

Having been looking for an excuse to see the teen, Sapnap had found the perfect thing. By a river, he'd found a rock that, if you squinted, it was shaped like a dick. Surely Tommy would get a kick out of this!

Approaching the dirt shack, gift in his pocket, Sapnap had a slight skip in step. He knocks on the door and called out for the boy.

"Tooommmyy! Are you home?"

A crash inside the home was worrying, but a quiet groan of pain set off alarm bells. Without another thought, Sapnap tries the doorknob— surprisingly the door was unlocked. Did this kid want to be stolen from??? Shaking off the stray thoughts, once again focused on the task at hand, he opens the door and enters. A light on downstairs leads Sapnap into a storage room with Tommy sitting curled up in the corner.

A rancid smell hits his nostrils and he scrunches his nose. An odor that was familiar to the awful smell of meat having gone bad.

Walking up to the teen, Tommy stared back at him with large, scared eyes. He was cradling his hand close to his chest, hiding it from view. And now that he was closer, something in the back of his mind registered that the smell was coming from the kid.

"Hey Tommy," Sapnap's voice took on a softness usually reserved for his close friends and his fiances. "Wanna tell me what happened so I can help?"

After a moment of Tommy examining his facial expression, he must've realize Sapnap meant no harm, and hesitantly holds his hand out. What Sapnap sees makes him want to vomit. Across Tommy's palm was a huge cut, but it was green and purple... the muscles torn and bone glimpseable .

Frowning, Sapnap mumbles: "Oh, kid... Here, I have a regen pot on me–"

"NO" Tommy's panicked shout cuts him off mid-sentence. "I– I mean," the kid gets quiet and nervous. "Use the one from my chest...: He shakily points towards the single chest across the room with his good hand.

Shaking off the shock, Sapnal roots through the chest and pulls out a bottle ful of a sickly potion... upon realizing what kind of potion it was, the cogs in his head turn. Rancid smell, rotted wound, potion of harming... Tommy was undead.

Sapnap scoots back over to Tommy, gently taking hold of the kid's wrist as to avoid spilling the potion on himself, and pours a generous amount of the viscous liquid onto Tommy's injury. The kid winces, but neither miss the twin looks of relief on their faces as the wound knits itself closed.

Seeing that Tommy was still clearly in a bad mental space, he remember the gift in his pocket. Pulling it out and handing it to the other, Sapnap smiles as he simy says: "I got you a dick rock."

Tommy's surprised, burst laugh was like music to his ears.

3 - Ghostbur

Ghostbur didn't understand what Tommy meant when he said he'd died. Tommy couldn't die, right...? No, his little brother was a survivor!

There was no way he had talked to Alivebur... but that look in Tommy's eyes... there was no way to fake that.

All the evidence kept piling up, and though he forgot some of it, some things never left his mind anymore. The way Tommy would get scared of taking damage, the way touch repulsed him... Tommy was also a lot quieter nowadays.

It was a nice day in Snowchester when it Ghostbur was confronted with the awful truth.

He had been visiting the small community when he spotted Tommy huddled up inside Tubbo's house. Obviously, he wondered why his little brother wasn't outside playing in the snow, so he goes to investigate.

"Tommy!" His raspy voice calls out cheerfully upon entering the cozy home. "Tommy what are you doing inside?"

He misses the way Tommy flinches, the terrified look in the youngest's eyes. Maybe Wilbur would've spotted it immediately, but Ghostbur wasn't him. He only saw the forced smile that covered it up, mistaking it for genuine happiness.

Tommy opens his mouth to respond, but he hesitated too long. Ghostbur was already talking again, excitedly bouncing in place. "I saw the snow outside and I remember how we used to have snowball fights when you were itty bitty, and it must've been a long time ago because now you're all tall and gangly! So I was thinking to myself, 'hmm, Tommy had been so sad lately! You know what would cheer him up? A snowball fight!' Except I can't touch the snow or else I'll melt so I thought we could go find Tubbo to play with!" It was a good thing Ghostbur didn't need to breathe anymore, because that whole rant would've taken a lot of air. Before Tommy could even finish processing all of that, Ghostbur grabs his wrist and starts tugging.

The unexpected contact send Tommy reeling, memories of a time when Wilbur would drag Tommy by the wrist, grip tight and unrelenting as the kid kicked and screamed. Times in the dark, cold ravine where nobody else could hear him plead for help. That morphed into when Dream started to doing the same thing during exile. Dream and Wilbur were interchangeable, their voices of anger and disappointment morphing into one. Adrenaline kicking in, Tommy starts shouting out for help, thrashing in Ghostbur's loose grip and causing the ghost to let go in surprise.

Luckily, Ranboo was close by and appeared inside the house. His teleportation ability kicking in without him realizing. He's quick to Tommy's side as the ghost watches on in horror. Quiet, comforting vwoops leave Ranboo's chest, and Tommy unconsciously curls closer to the source of familiar comfort. Once the majority of the panic was over, Tommy looks at Ranboo, eyes locked onto his tie. "Ra' boo?" The youngest slurs out tiredly.

"Hey, Tommy, you're safe. You're in Snowchester, with Tubbo and me."

Tommy simply nodded and closed his eyes, slumping over. The air is still for a moment, a tense quiet fills the walls of the house.

"Is... is he okay...?" Ghostbur finally speaks up.

"Honestly? Not really..." Ranboo answers, turning to look at the ghost, but never quite making eye-contact. "But he'll be better when he wakes up. Panic attacks are exhausting, especially for him nowadays.."

When Ranboo picks Tommy up, the red and white shirt rides up on his side a little, giving Ghostbur a good look at a nasty wound. Flesh eaten away to reveal the muscle underneath. Already feeling himself forgetting, Ghostbur watches the two teens leave the room.

4 - Philza

It had been awhile since he'd seen Tommy. Last time had been when he'd shown up to help Ranboo move. After the eyepatch incident, the base had been wrapped in a tense silence. Ranboo left for a few days afterwards, though Techno and Phil couldn't blame him. He did come back, but nobody spoke of what happened.

So, Phil hadn't been ready to run into Tommy in the Nether. He had just been on his way towards the larger SMP when he saw the kid sitting on a path, legs dangling off the side as he stared into the lava below. That sight set off so many alarm bells, and it took everything in Phil not to yank the kid back from the edge.

"What are you doing out here, mate?" Phil calls out, wings ruffling nervously on his back. He kept his voice and expression calm.

Tommy flinches, but his posture quickly relaxes again as he turns to look at Phil, his empty socket uncovered. Phil has to force himself to not stare at it. "Oh, its you." There was an apathetic tone to Tommy's voice that rubbed him wrong. Tommy was one of the most expressive people he'd ever met, and to hear him so emotionless...

Contrary to popular belief, he was not Tommy's dad. He hadn't even met the kid until his son, Wilbur, had gotten attached. But that Tommy was very different from the one he's looking at now. What had caused this change?

"You just gonna keep fucking staring at me like I'm some circus freak, or are you gonna sit down already?" Tommy pulls Phil out of his thoughts, causing the man to blink in confusion. He accepts the offer before the teen catching his mind— sitting cross-legged on the path beside Tommy, but not too close. They sit in silence for a bit, listening to the songs of the Nether. Piglins and Zombie Piglins oink and snort, there's a distant cry of a Ghast, and even the lava is bubbling to its own tune. Every now and then, Phil catches himself staring at Tommy, forcing himself to look elsewhere when he does. Tommy catches on, "I know I'm handsome and all, but staring is considered rude, bitch. Thought someone as old as you would know that," there's a hint of teasing in his tone.

Embarrassment floods his veins, causing Phil's wings to poof a bit, but he could blame it on the heat. "Erm– Sorry, mate... just caught up in my own head, I guess,"

Tommy rolls his eye and makes direct eye-contact with Phil. "I don't want your pity. I don't care for your thoughts. If you have questions, ask them now, cause you might never get another opportunity."

Phil swallows heavily and looks away. A lot of questions raced through his mind, but only one stuck:

"Did you talk to Wilbur?"

The teen grimaced, and that was an answer all in itself. "Yeah, asshole talked about solitare for months straight, would not shut up about the stupid game."

Oh... that hadn't been the answer he was expecting.

"And then continued to want to destroy the entirety of the SMP. He's acting crazier than before, but I guess I would too if I sat in a void for nine years too."

He remembers reading something about the time difference between death and life... back when he was still researching revival. Moving on from his question about Wilbur, he then asks: "How have you been doing?"

Tommy simply shrugs. "Usually? I'm either knee deep in flashbacks, or I'm aware enough to stumble about. Today? Can't feel a thing– 'm hollow. That's why I don't care about the questions,, I literally can't."

His heart breaks as he listens to Tommy's words, here is a kid so beat down and ruined by the world. To the point where he's gone numb. Not sure what else to do, Phil pulls Tommy into a hug, wrapping his wings around them. "I'm sorry."

Still for just a moment, Tommy slowly leans into the embrace, "Yeah.. me too."

5 - Puffy

Captain Puffy prides herself on being there for her friends. For trying for those she loves. Learning that she didn't try hard enough for Tommy left her broken.

And then, by some miracle, he was back. But... not as he was. In fact, the trauma he's lived (and died) through seems to have shut the once lively boy down.

She finds him hesitating outside her therapy office, or therapuffy as she calls it, fiddling with his torn and bloodied shirt. She mentally noted that he needs a new wardrobe.

"Hey, Tommy! What's up, my dude?" She keeps her voice soft and upbeat, not wanting to scare him away. "Did you need something?"

She internally frowns at the way he shies away from her, even though she's not anywhere near enough to initiate contact. Even stranger is how he doesn't fully turn to face her, half his face obscured from view. Still, she doesn't show she noticed it, and continues to smile warmly. Here was a duckling who was afraid of opening back up, but desperately in need of that love and affirmation he deserves. But she has to wait for him to come to her.

Realizing that maybe he wouldn't start anything on his own, she starts up the conversation. "Did you hear about the latest prank on Bad?" She asks. When Tommy shakes his head, the corner of her lip quirks up in amusement as she continues. "Somebody put a bunch of swear words all over his house!" That gets a chuckle out of Tommy.

They sit in silence after that, though its not awkward. It feels more like Tommy is internally debating on what to say, and Puffy didn't want to distract him. After a minute, with his voice uncharacteristically quiet, he asks: "Do you have any potions...?"

"Yeah! I've got some in storage," She hums. "Do you wanna come with me to get some?"

He hesitantly nods before turning his body to fully face her. That's when she saw it. His cheek in the left side of his face was rotted away, revealing teeth and gums. Nausea twisted in her gut, but still somehow remains calm. Instead of even referencing the gruesome sight, she simply smiles and holds out her hand. Seeming to get the message, Tommy places his hand in hers. She leads him down to where she kept most of her stuff, and sits him down on a spare surface– the place being an empty chest just sitting out.

"What kind of potion you need?" She asks, not wanting to assume and end up messing up.

"...Harming,"

Humming, Puffy digs around for a minute before successfully retrieving a potion of harming. It was a drinking one, surprisingly enough. Usually she just turned all of those into splash pots. Pulling on a pair of gloves and dousing a spare rag in the viscous liquid. Carefully holding up the soaked rag to his face, she hovers just above the rotting flesh and asks: "May I?"

Tommy nods and she presses the cloth to his cheek. She can feel the flesh knit itself back together under the cloth. Once she was sure it was healed, she hands whats left of the potion over for Tommy to drink. That'll fix up any internal damages he was possibly dealing with.

He grimaces as he accepts the bottle, "It always tastes like that shit nasty medicine i took as a kid.." he grumbles before throwing his head back to gulp the potion down as quickly as possible. Her inner pirate from days long gone idly thinks that Tommy would he good at putting down shots.

He soon leaves after that, not a word from either of them. Puffy silently promises to look out for the kid.

+1 - Techno

Tommy was being chased down by Bad and Ant again... though they were quickly gaining on him. Since coming back from the dead, Tommy's had very poor stamina, and he's not sure if its a zombie thing or him being very unhealthy thing. Being skin and bones, unhealthy underweight, would definitely affect him,, but he just couldn't seem to put any of the weight back on now.

The Egg cult must've been especially focused on him, bevause they were still chasing him, and Tommy was stumbling through a snow biome... Deja vu much?

Panting, Tommy can only hear the blood rushing in his ears, his heavy breathing, and the crunching of snow.

There's a light in the distance, though! And a very familiar cabin. Alarms blared in his head, his traitorous brain reminding him that he wasn't welcome here anymore. He didn't have much time to think, though, because his foot gets stuck in a snowdrift, causing him to collapse into the cold, frozen ground. The snow cushions his fall, though he definitely feels his foot pop off from his ankle.

"Well well well, looks like its the end of the road, Tommyinnit... again." Bad mocks in a chilling voice– it was a hollow sort of joy, a mimic of how warm Bad's voice used to be. He watches as Ant picks up the detached foot, frozen still with fear. "Any last words, Tommy?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for his swift end... knowing that Bad was lifting up an axe to swing. Only for it to never come. Instead a clank of metal on metal, and a familiar monotone voice.

"You see, I can't let you do that. You're all on my land, and I'd hate for the snow to stain red."

Peaking open an eye, he's in awe of the sight before him. Technoblade was standing in front of him, his axe having blocked the strike. Bad and Ant look at each other, nod, and back off. It was obvious that going against The Blade was a losing battle. Ant drops the foot into the snow as the two retreat.

Techno puts away his weapon and crouches down to pick up the foot. "What are you doing here, Theseus?" Techno didn't turn towards him.

"Give it back." Tommy ignores the question, putting up his wall. "That's mine, you arse."

"What do you mean its yours? Whose foot is this anyways–" Techno's words cut off as he turns to face Tommy, finally taking in the kid's appearance.

Tommy wasn't wearing his eyepatch, but thats not what caught his attention. It was the lack of a foot attached to his body. Quickly realizing why Tommy was demanding back the foot, he hands it over to the kid, watching in morbid fascination as he pops it right back onto his leg and rolling his ankle. The voices were all screaming different things,and he couldn't make sense of what they were saying.

"So... uh, the weird egg people were chasing you?"

Techno sucked at small talk, but he honestly didn't know what to say as Tommy stood up and brushed the snow off himself. "I'm immune and shit— well I was before the uh, prison visit. But I think I'm still immune."

"Ah,"

...

"Uh, I'm gonna go back home.." Tommy points towards the Nether Portal. "Thank you for saving me, or whatever.."

"Yeah.. yeah,"

...

"I'm just... gonna go."

Techno watches as Tommy starts to head off, slowly crunching through the snow.

He didn't know what terms he was on with the kid, but it didn't seem nearly as hostile as before. It probably wouldn't hurt anything if he started to watch out for Tommy from the shadows..

[Masterpost]

---

Okay its done, I've been working on this for ages! I also didn't go back and read it, and most of this was written while I was exhausted, so there's that

[fanficsandfluff]

That Damned Laugh

To the anon who informed me of Rainbow Rowell's RACISM, i am writing this for my love of the characters, not the author's writing skill or fame. fuck her. i am still very much aware of what she wrote about and how she portrayed a character, but i cannot stop this inspiration when it comes to me. (wait to be clear to everyone reading this who hadn't seen the anons and my discussion, carry on wasnt the accused racist book. that was something else.)

If you, anon, end up seeing this and maybe don't like what I'm doing or whatnot, I'd love to hear from you again.

For those of you who maybe do practice Death of the Author, I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Carry On

Characters: Simon Snow, Baz Pitch

Words: 1,905

~~~~~

BAZ

Simon Snow does not laugh, full stop.

(Well, to be fair I'm not a cackler much myself, but I do at least guffaw from time to time.)

Snow spent so much of his youth being weighed down by the 'Chosen One' moniker and being tormented by yours truly. Still, I know of that little list he kept of things he liked about Watford and all its experiences and people. It seemed he did take joy in most of it all. After all, I'm sure he had fun at Bunce's house on many an occasion.

But just being around him and in this way for a while now, you start to notice. He's seen me laugh. A few times, in fact. And hard. I'm not very proud of it; what that man can do to me and make me do. He doesn't like when I cover my hand over my smile. It's habit, though, I've reminded him countless times. The fangs and all. We're working on it.

But Simon may just smile or huff. I've giggled with him on our particularly soft nights or togethertimes.

All this to say... I've found a new hobby/goal/obsession recently.

Make Simon Snow laugh.

My cheekiness all these years has kept my humor to cruel, lowbrow tones. Maybe it makes me less funny, I don't know. But once or twice I'd nail a comeback or snarky one-liner (of course with a bit of flirt thrown in) and Snow will giggle and shake his head. But that's all I've achieved! A small, pandering, boring -- though still admirably adorable -- (Damn that Snow) giggle.

I've moved on to physical humor. I tried throwing myself dramatically over him when he's in bed, but he just seems to think it's all part of my Pitch flair.

Today I made a minor breakthrough.

I was in the kitchen trying to mix myself a smoothie. Bunce has been gushing about a smoothie craze for weeks now, so I finally figured why not. The damn lid wasn't on tight enough. Not-yet-smooth smoothie shot everywhere. There was a pause as it happened, my one hand on the Liquify button, my other resting nonchalantly atop the lid that didn't do any lidding, dammit.

Snow looked up at me from his seat by the kitchen counter, eyes drawn from his phone. A beat. He barked out a laugh. A much louder one than I think I'd ever heard him make.

"Put a sock in it, Snow," I growled, to keep with my facade, though inside I was jittery with glee. I wanted to hear more.

Snow convinced me to binge a new show. Crime Minds. Something like that. No, criminal. It's Criminal Minds.

You wouldn't expect this to be a series fit enough for a cuddle, but Snow and I are an unexpected couple. So it works.

A few dumb jokes are littered throughout the show, in between corpses and the same police station set being reorganized and shot from different angles every episode. One such joke was so inconspicuous and so nothing that I cannot even recall it now. But both Snow and I chuckled at it. Then Snow made an additional comment to it, making me laugh. And soon we were both giggling together like schoolboys, like we had early on when we were maybe still a bit bashful with each other.

He shoved his face into my ribs and snorted when I whispered the new inside joke much later on in the episode. I was also grinning like a madman, but the soft tickle his action gave me didn't exactly---

Oh.

In bed. Perfect. Lovers fool around all the time in bed. Not fool around as in sex--well, no, of course sex, but I mean they also play around-- never mind.

SIMON

Baz has been acting off lately. I can't quite put my finger on what it is. He seems distracted. More like how I act. I'm always thinking of something else, not able to stay focused on one thing for long. He's like that, but trying to act like he isn't.

We're doing something odd today. We're in bed at sunset. It's hardly sunset, as a matter of fact. The sun isn't seeping orange and red into the flat yet. Penelope took us out on a hike today. It tuckered the both of us out. Baz drained a buck when we got home.

I'm laying perpendicular to Baz (or is it parallel? composite? I could never remember mathematics), my legs resting over his stomach. He's reading and I'm playing a puzzle app on my phone.

BAZ

Now's the time, Baz. Just do it, don't think.

His socked feet are right in front of me. There's only been a handful of times we've sat in this position, half of them being my lower half resting on Simon's sturdier upper half. It's now or never.

I stare at his feet for too long, zoning out and forgetting that I was left staring at them, so it definitely looked like I have a fetish for feet. Which I don't. Focus, Basilton.

I take a finger-- no, two fingers. I scratch quickly at his heel. His leg jerks, foot being pulled back.

"What?" he asks me, as if I hadn't been plotting this for weeks. As if I just did it to get his attention.

"Something on the bottom of your sock, love."

Simon went right back to his head hanging upside down off the side of the bed, phone held out in front of his eyes.

Well, that proved one thing. He's ticklish.

He places his ankles right back where they originally were, crossed, atop my stomach. I try again, this time on his arch. I apply more pressure.

"Bahaz!" Simon shakes his foot out, "Is that how you start a foot massage?"

"Would you like a foot massage?"

"No. Not if it's going to tickle like that."

My cheeks heat up. Damn that buck. I'm rosier than I usually am.

"You're ticklish?" I ask, coolly. I barely stuttered.

"I wouldn't try it," he's back to looking at his phone again, "Penny did once and I nearly broke her elbow or something. She wouldn't stop talking about it for days."

"So you're very ticklish, then."

"Don't," this is the first time Snow seems to tense up.

There's a moment of quiet between us. A tense quiet. I lunge for his ankles and he shoots up into a sitting position. I scratch at his arch with four fingers now and he screams.

"Baz!" Simon whines a bit and he somehow yanks his legs free, not without losing one of his socks in my grip.

SIMON

He's grinning at me. No. Sneering.

I still hate when he does that. Reminds me of back when I wanted to throttle him. Sometimes I still do.

"Baz," I warn. His whole posture changes into a predator's, like he's the lion and I'm his fresh zebra. The new stance sends a shiver down my spine, with his shoulders hunched and all, ready to pounce.

"Baz... Baz, Baz, Baz..." I say over and over again because he's smiling at me, and then I start to smile, too, "Bahaz!" I try once more, but his name is all that's coming out, and now I'm giggling. I'm nervous. He did this to me.

BAZ

He's already giggling and I haven't even laid a hand on him.

"Yes, Snow?" I respond to his many calls of my name before I lurch forward, sending my whole body crashing on top of his and trying to pin him. I dig my fingers into his sides and don't stop for as long as I can maintain contact through his squirming.

"Gehehet off!" he's already crumbling, words being broken up with short laughs.

I slide my fingertips to his stomach and scratch there; Snow bucks. It gets even better when my cold fingers make contact with his warm skin beneath the shirt he's wearing. He yelps like I've never heard him yelp (like he's burnt his finger, but he's also 11-years-old again), and he dissolves into loud, beautiful laughter.

"St-Stohohop! Baz! I'm going to end you!"

"Isn't that how we always said it would end? Snuffing each other out? I'm perfectly happy that it's now going to end in my favor. You should've told me you were this easy to defeat earlier on, Snow."

"Shut up!" he cackles, legs kicking wildly behind me, as my body is thrown over his torso. Now I have both my hands buried into his sides, squeezing and squeezing. I get curious, my cheeks still burning with blood, and I lean down to his neck and... (no, I don't bite) I start nibbling. Snow loses it.

His whole face scrunches up, as I watch when I pull my head back. His smile is huge and bright. And the laughs bubble up from his stomach, releasing softer into the air like he sucked a little of the joy from it before releasing to keep for himself.

"Dohon't do that!"

"I thought you love my kisses."

"Not tha-HAAT!"

He shrieks again, hands too slow to stop my face from moving in. I nibble and even lick a few times, careful not to touch him with my fangs.

Did I mention that my hands are still tickling at his sides and ribs while I'm nibbling? Oh yes, I've waited so long for this sound. I wasn't going to make it come out lightly.

I blow a raspberry and that's when Snow's laughter catches and turns all hiccuppy. The noises are infecting me, starting to make me giggle. I shift, and my face now descends towards his stomach, which is bared after I rucked the shirt up.

SIMON

"TYRANNUS BASILTON G-GRIMM FUCKING PITCH-- OR WHATEVER YOUR LONG STUPID ARSEHOLE NAME IS--"

He's laughing at me. I keep laughing even without him tickling me.

"I swehehear I'm going to fucking kill you and your whole family if you do that dohown thehere--" I'm hiccuping. Crowley, how embarrassing.

BAZ

He's got me. I can hardly breathe from laughter. I keel over into him or he into me, but soon we're a laughing pile together on top of the mussed up sheets on the bed.

I make a loud snort and that reels us both back in again, laughing til we're red in the face and til my cheeks hurt.

Simon is giggling away, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself, but he just keeps on giggling. I'm able to sit up a little more and Snow's head is in my lap. He's beaming and looking up at me through squinted, teary eyes.

"That was fun," I say, and I don't think it's the brightest or smartest thing to say. But I say it.

"I love you," Snow's smile is still wide, like he's drunk from it. There's a moment where I feel like I've died again, color drained from me.

It doesn't seem to bother him, that he's said that. For the first time. I run my fingers through his reddish curls once, letting them tangle in the locks towards the back of his head. I hunch myself down so I can kiss him.

"I've wanted to hear that for so long," I whisper.

"That I love you? You haven't figured it out by now?"

"No, you idiot," I say with nothing but fondness, brushing my nose along Simon's jaw, "Your laugh."

[plazmafields]

Dorian chatted aimlessly as he waited for Krem to grab his lunch, Dorian gripping his own loosely and swinging the bag gently at his side. Once Krem was ready, the two men crossed through the office on their way to the cafe. As they passed a large set of frosted glass doors, Dorian heard soft music coming from within. He slowed his pace as he listened, trying to recognize the song.

“What is it?” Krem asked, several feet ahead.

“Oh, nothing, I just…” Dorian drifted off as he read the name on the doors. “I’ve never seen Cullen outside his office. Not in the break room or the cafe.”

Krem scoffed, “Yeah, he doesn’t leave that room. I don’t know if he takes breaks at all. Maybe he just likes to be alone during his breaks? I don’t know, honestly.”

Dorian hummed in acknowledgement, still focused on putting a finger on the strangely familiar music he could faintly hear. After a moment of silence, Krem started walking again.

“You coming?” he called back.

“Yes, I’ll just be a moment. I’ll meet you there.”

Krem shrugged and went off to meet up with their other lunch buddies.

Dorian kept staring at the frosted doors, reading the lettering over and over. Cullen Rutherford, Director of Architecture. Not his boss, per se, but absolutely a few positions over him.

Is it even worth asking? Dorian wondered. I suppose it couldn’t hurt, despite the likelihood of him refusing.

So with a shrug and a confident smile, Dorian drummed a knuckle against the glass and waited for a response. He heard the music stop and Cullen clear his throat before uttering a quiet “enter”.

Dorian opened the door slowly and peaked his head in first. “Mr. Rutherford? Do you have a moment?”

Cullen reeled a little at the formality. “Oh, yes, please, have a seat. And just ‘Cullen’ is fine.”

“Right, Cullen…” Dorian murmured as he sat, taking in the decor. “You have a lovely office, very cosy.” he remarked, noting each side wall had floor to ceiling bookshelves, each nearly full.

Cullen nodded in agreement, shifting the things on his desk.

“Did you do something different with it since I was here last month?”

Cullen chuckled, “No, never.” he looked up from his organization for his eyes to lock with Dorian’s, immediately thrown off course. “Uh, I mean, I have it the way I like it. Maybe, um, it needs something new, I’m not a trinket person, but maybe something. Bookends?”

Dorian grinned, “Maybe.”

After a long quiet moment, Cullen cleared his throat again. “Anyway, sorry, what did you need to talk to me about?”

As he casually glanced around the room once more, Dorian said plainly, “A few of us have formed a… ‘lunch club’, I suppose, where we all go out together or sit in the cafe at lunch and just chat. I was wondering if you wanted to join us today. I know you usually eat in here by yourself.”

Cullen sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes on his desk, “I usually don’t eat. If I’m honest. There’s really no time, I have so much shi--”

Dorian looked at him with a slight smirk, brow quirked.

“...work. A lot of work to do. I’m sorry, maybe I can find time some other...time.”

Dorian could see that Cullen didn’t really want to refuse, but also felt too awkward. 

“Is it the group? I promise there’s only, like, five of us, myself included. You’re never intruding.”

The blond cringed a little, “Maybe? I-I don’t know, I’m not much of a people person, I really--”

“What if it was just you and me?” Dorian cut him off gently.

Cullen’s mouth remained open as his eyes got wider. He quickly took Dorian up and down, then gulped.

Dorian chuckled, “I’ll let you think about it, how about that?”

As he opened the door to leave and find Krem, Dorian turned back and said in a soft tone, “I would really enjoy your company.”

The last thing he saw before shutting the door behind him was a slight blush on Cullen’s cheeks.

---

After a couple of days with no answer, Dorian decided to take it upon himself to buy an extra burrito bowl for Cullen, taking notes from Josephine on what he might like.

“He only comes to the break room when I bring in my pastries.” She had said. “He waits until everyone in the office has had one, then he comes out and takes whatever’s left. He asks me about the sugar cookies sometimes. They’re just butter and sugar, a little vanilla. He seems to like simple flavors, but he’s eaten almost everything I’ve made.”

Playing it safe, Dorian got a very basic bowl without extras, hoping the flavors would be inoffensive.

Once he got back to the office, he went straight to Cullen’s office and knocked, not waiting for a response before barging in. He knew Cullen would be in there, and he wasn’t giving him an option, Cullen was going to eat.

Cullen looked up from his screen with surprise, shocked to see Dorian with two bowls.

“Time for lunch.” Dorian said, placing Cullen’s dish in front of him with a fork and napkin.

Cullen tried to say something, but Dorian cut him off.

“Nope, eat.”

Dorian sat in the adjacent chair and began digging in, only stopping to gesture for Cullen to do the same.

The blond took a tentative bite, humming as he pointed with his fork. “This is really good, but I feel bad. You didn’t have to--”

“I certainly didn’t, but I chose to. And I’d hate to see it go to waste, so don’t feel bad, just eat it.”

Cullen, thrown off guard by Dorian’s bluntness, simply shut up and ate, muttering a quiet “thank you” through bites.

“You’re very welcome. Having work to do is no reason to starve yourself.” Dorian watched with a smile as Cullen clearly enjoyed his meal.

"I'd hardly say I starve myself," Cullen said under his breath. When Dorian gave a skeptical look, he elaborated, "I just, you know, make sure I have a big breakfast, and I eat an apple or something throughout the day. I try to be healthy."

"Skipping meals isn't healthy, darling." Dorian purred to avoid sounding judgemental.

Cullen blushed at being worried over. "No, you're right."

After a long pause, Cullen sheepishly asked, "Mind if I switch on some music?"

"Feel free," Dorian waved dismissively.

Soothing, almost romantic jazz was the first thing to play, Cullen flailing at the keyboard to skip it. "Woah, okay, how about something else?" He laughed nervously.

"No no, I quite enjoy jazz, if you don't mind." Dorian reached over and softly grabbed Cullen's hand to stop him, Cullen looking to their hands and blushing.

"Oh, sure. T-That's fine…"

They simply ate as the song played, Dorian suddenly realizing Cullen was done with his meal.

"Oh, you eat fast, don't you?" Dorian remarked, finally taking in Cullen’s physique. He was muscular, but not ripped; defined, but not toned; sturdy, but not 100% muscle. He was...

"Oh I--" Cullen looked down at his bowl and scrapped every last bit of rice out, "yeah, I'm used to not having a ton of time, I guess."

"I love a man with appetite." He didn't mean to sigh that last word, but Dorian let it slip, immediately clearing his throat in embarrassment.

Cullen swallowed roughly, but just went back to the last statement, "I probably shouldn't eat so fast or I'll mess up my metabolism. And I am getting older…"

Dorian scoffed, "Older? What are you, twenty-six?"

Cullen laughed, "Yeah, I wish. Try thirty-six."

"Are you calling me 'older', Cullen?" Dorian crossed his arms.

Cullen blushed, "W-What, no! I...how old are you?"

"Thirty-seven."

Cullen rolled his eyes, "Oh, please, older than me, maybe, but not older."

Dorian glanced down at Cullen's left hand. "Thirty-six and no wife?"

"Hey, I could ask you the same." Cullen shrunk in his seat; clearly this was a point of contention.

Dorian smirked, "I'm gay, darling."

"Oh…" Cullen blushed a little, "Well, no husband, then?"

Dorian crossed his legs and sat back, "I needed a break after my last boyfriend. He was a bit much: prissy, self-absorbed, disagreeable; it didn't work. We just had too much in common."

Cullen gave a hardy laugh, "I don't think you're disagreeable in the slightest, I think you're very pleasant."

Dorian smiled and tutted with a dismissive wave of the hand.

"And quite handsome, plenty of reason to be self-absorbed."

Taken aback, Dorian looked up with hopeful eyes, looking onto a completely innocent face dawning a sweet smile. Dorian grinned back, "Good of you to notice."

---

As he worked diligently, Dorian's focus was broken by someone sitting on the corner of his desk, arms crossed. He looked up, expecting Krem ready to head to lunch, but instead saw his newest lunch companion, blond curls less contained than usual.

"Ah, Cullen, out of your cave. What can I do for you, my friend?" He turned his chair and crossed his legs.

Cullen smiled softly but avoided Dorian's eyes. "I was wondering--I know it's lunch and you probably have plans to go out already but," his eyes darted up occasionally to check he wasn't losing Dorian's attention, "I was wondering if later, after work, you'd like to go to dinner with me."

The entire room went silent. The click-clacking of keyboards stopped, the fax machine stopped buzzing, and the water cooler stopped bubbling. Out of nowhere, eyes started peering over cubical walls, and people casually migrated in Dorian's direction.

He watched them all from the corner of his eye as everyone in the room waited for his answer. Cullen didn't leave his office, he didn't talk to his coworkers, and he didn't respond to flirting, from anyone.

Until now.

Dorian tried to keep his gulp subtle and quiet. He chuckled awkwardly before responding, "That...that sounds really nice. I'd love to."

The room started moving again, noises continued and people went back to their places.

Cullen grinned, "Great! That's...I'm…" he breathed a calming breath, "I'm so glad."

Laughing im relief, Dorian shook his head before taking a long moment to simply look into Cullen’s eyes. Golden and kind.

Cullen stared back, soft smile still present. "Well," he cleared his throat before standing, "I should get back to work. I'll see you tonight?"

Before Dorian could respond, his hand was in Cullen's, knuckles up, and eyes locked with the blond as he placed a gentle kiss to each one.

"I'm buying this time," Cullen whispered.

[the-crows-typist]

Here’s the fourth installment of your Valentine’s event (Yes, I know it’s March but IRL stuff happens y’know? This time we have Kalim paired with the word ‘Flowers’ requested by @opalmaplehibiscus .Enjoy!

CW: Hanahaki AU (Non-lethal variant), Angst with a happy ending, potential OOC, Minor talks about death

Word count: 3656 

Other works: Chocolates Feat. Jade, Cards Feat. Floyd, Kiss Feat. Vil

A Heart From Me to You

Kalim loved to look at flowers regardless of where he saw them. He loved the way the petals touched his skin and the many scents, whether sweet or strong, he breathed into his nose. Visiting the school’s botanical garden was one of his ‘hidden favorite things’ to do, he puts it as hidden as Jamil and he was glued to the hip since birth and while he never minded that Jamil was close by, there were moments he wished to be alone.

It was a very selfish want, he admitted to himself.

“Phew.” He breathed a relieved sigh, finally able to enter the garden without much of a problem. The sound of birds is what calmed him and the familiar scent of stored water was what brought him a sense of renewal. Taking one of the watering cans, Kalim began watering the flowering plants with not much thought going into it.

The flowers were beautiful, they truly were. They were very lucky to be this beautiful and to be held in such high regard for it. Yes, the flowers were indeed lucky contrary to his being; he never thought of himself the way he viewed the flowers and while he enjoyed some perks of his life thanks to his family’s achievements, it came with the same amount of misfortune and realities usually too dark for people his age to perceive.

Many people get hurt or even die for his sake, his siblings don’t get as much attention from their father as they liked because he, the eldest, is in the way and deep down he knew and felt the boiling resentment many had for him.

He doesn’t blame anyone for thinking that. It was a hard pill that Kalim was used to swallowing.

Perhaps had he been born a flower, life would have been easier for everyone including him.

He continued his watering until the can was empty and only then did he go back to the hose to refill it. The foliage on the way there was thick, he figured it hadn’t been cut for a while and made a note to himself to find some hedge clippers. He wasn’t allowed to hold knives, that’s true, but hedge clippers don’t count, right?

Lost In his internal debate, a quick set of feet ran and collided with his side harshly, Kalim and the unknown student losing their balance with a collective sound of surprise. “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” You held your hands to yourself, as if hurt when Kalim slowly inched forward. “A-are you hurt? I can take you to the clinic if you—!” He was suddenly pushed out of the way, your hands only touching him for a moment before running off.

Kalim watched in confusion, blinking when the door slammed shut. The smell of lavender hit his nose and his eyes loomed downwards to see that the area you had touched had been taken over by the flowering buds of lavender. “This wasn’t here before.” He whispered to himself and attempted to pull at the flowers carefully out of the fabric.

When he finished his resting time, Jamil was waiting outside the botanical garden looking very upset. “You ran off again.” He said in the most seething voice Kalim was used to hearing. “Look, I can explain.” And back to reality it was, playing as the happy-go-lucky person people knew him as. While he enjoyed the time to himself, he hated how short it lasted. But now, he has to keep face, he has to be what he was expected to be.

Jamil takes his hand but Kalim’s smile only wavers a little bit. Here we go. “No amount of explaining will change the fact that you were alone. You should be more careful, Kalim. What if—?”

There was a biting sensation on his skin, the two boys looking down and on Jamil’s skin sprouted small white blossoms and enticing black berries. They both reeled from each other, Jamil holding his hand and Kalim his wrist.

He suddenly remembers you, bumping into him during his internal discussion.

“Kalim…” Jamil’s eyes were wide in fear. “Your…”

The nightshade flowers withered under the sun, its poisonous berries drying and falling to their feet in clumps.

Wearing gloves in warm weather wasn’t the nicest feeling but it had to be done. After the confirmation that Kalim had indeed been cursed, Jamil had become vigilant and stricter with his role as protector. There wasn’t a time he was ever alone in one room. His selfishness has come to bite him back, Kalim thought to himself.

He looked to his hands with a huff. The curse didn’t seem harmful, just inconvenient…And the one who gave it, You, didn’t seem like it was intentional. The meeting between you two was brief, only lasting a few seconds and a few shed flowers.

“Kalim, let’s go,” Jamil said, tugging him along and walking by his side every step of the way.

Ah, how would he know anyway? He’s not good at anything like Jamil nor does he have the physical capabilities as he does. The only thing he’s probably good at is flying a magic carpet and the drums.

“Yeah.”

Kalim was quiet on their walk and until he sat down in the classroom, he kept silent. Class started without much trouble, he took notes but couldn’t listen much, his mind wandering back to you in the botanical garden.

Lab classes had a sort of freedom to it. Kalim was able to work around a bit more his gloves and Jamil would often be paired with someone else…Usually Azul. Kalim noticed that despite their different interest, Jamill and Azul had grown closer in the past months. And while he was happy for them both, there was a sting that never wanted to leave.

He and Kalim were born around the same time and since then never left each other’s side. He was there when Kalim needed him and he was his friend, probably his only friend. That was, at least, what he wanted to believe but even during their childhood, Kalim had already noticed that Jamil was with him because he was told to. Had Jamil been given the choice, he could have played with someone else other than him.

“Excuse me, would you like to start?” His partner asked and he blinked, nodding his head and smiling the way he always does. “Yeah! Let’s work hard.”

He stayed in the corner, eyes looking at particularly nothing. He and his partner finished up early and got a good enough score for it…Which is good, he’ll take a passing grade than a failed mark any day. He looked over to the side of the ceiling and his hands intertwined with each other. In the back, Jamil smiled at Azul’s demise after hot smoke bellowed from the cauldron and out to their face.

It had been a while since he saw Jamil looking that happy. There was stinging itchiness in his hands that went with the heaviness in his heart. The gloves grew tighter and less comfortable and Kalim wanted to take it off, but showing he had been cursed meant showing others he was vulnerable.

The itchiness and the cold warmth of fear felt were too great. He needed a change of environment, he needed alone time. He took one last look at a laughing Jamil then slinked off and out of the lab, almost running to a place he knows he’ll be safe.

The botanical garden was silent and unchanged, its flowers blooming in different colors and hues, the temperature a mix of tropical and temperate. He smiled upon seeing Leona rest against a tree and soon walked deeper and deeper into the gardens to a place where he could relax. Discarding his gloves, he let his hands touch the tree stumps, flowers of Helenium growing on the bark and providing color in an otherwise dimly lit landscape with the trees acting as a canopy.

Kalim sighs, letting his thought leave whichever way it can. The flowers bloomed under his palm and he reveled in its beauty, just by being born it was able to bring a sort of happiness to those who choose to look at it.

His shoulders droop slightly, his line sight dipping to a tree’s roots. His hands begin to scratch and he begins to scratch on the skin of his palms, begging his body and the curse to stop. He rubbed his palms together, the tattered stems and petals falling to the ground in a heap. “Please stop.” He begged to himself. “Please make it stop.”

He closed his eyes, brows furrowed and shaking. The flowers crept up his skin over his hands. “Please stop.” Hunching over, he brought his hands to his chest. “Please…”

“Please,”

“Calm down.”

Picking the flowers out of his skin was an odd experience and even more that someone else was doing it. Your hands were wrapped with bandages and eyes searching for even the tiniest blossoms on his skin. Kalim sniffed, rubbing his eyes with a now flower-free hand. “That’s it, just let it all flow out.” You said and pick the last flower from his hand.

“Festering emotions are what power the curse.” You explain. “You have to let it out or else the flowers will consume you.” He takes his gloves out of his hand and slips them back on and you sit up straight, an embarrassed smile formed on your lips. “I suppose I should its high time that I introduce myself—.”

“You’re the one who bumped into me.���

You nod your head. “Yes, and you’re Kalim Al-Asim, dorm leader of Scarabia.” With a voice gentle, Kalim felt at ease but what his eyes saw betrayed the feeling immediately. “Please forgive me, I didn’t know that it would pass onto you so suddenly.” You bowed, forehead touching the ground in your position.

You waited for a reaction, anything, but as time passed you never heard anything nor did you feel any anticipated touches. “It’s a little embarrassing seeing you like this, raise your head,” Kalim said and you did what you were told. He looked down at his hands, a few blossoms stayed on his skin.

“How long have you had it?” Kalim asked, placing a hand over yours and the touch making you twitch. “This curse.” He clarifies, your eyes holding the quivering vulnerability only presented to him alone.

“For a long while now.”

Kalim didn’t know how long he had spent in the gardens just talking to you, knowing what the curse had to offer. You always made sure none of your skin ever touched anything or peaked out of your uniform. While you were gentle and kind, Kalim saw fear in your actions.

“The curse only latches onto anyone with festering feelings…Perhaps,” Kalim looks at his hand while you pause as if what you were about to say would sound very mean-spirited. “Perhaps that’s why it latched onto you, too.”

It was near evening when he got out, his heart not as heavy but speedy knowing that he had to face a very upset Jamil for being selfish and unguarded. He walked down the steps, already seeing the familiar figure at the bottom; Jamil’s brows were furrowed and expression angry.

The two of them stared at each other and Jamil turned his back. “Let’s go home.”

You had told him prior that you lived inside the garden, in a special cottage that was hidden from view. It must be nice, he thought to himself. Jamil took Kalim by the wrist and pulled him close, walking to his stride.

“Is there a way to break this curse?” He asked and your smile deflated but only for a short while. “I wish I could tell you,” You say. “But I don’t know, either.”

From the evening setting of Night Raven, Kalim was welcomed to the familiar home of the Scarabia dorm. The two walked to the entrance quietly and soon Jamil let go of him, turning around. “Is there something I need to know about?”

“Festering emotions are what power the curse.” He remembered you explaining to him and suddenly his palms began to itch. He shook his head, giving him the happy-go-lucky smile he was used to seeing. “You were having fun so I thought it’d be best to leave you alone.”

“Just…” He could hear the frustration in his voice before the eventual sigh of exhaustion. “Just don’t run off by yourself. It would spell bad things if you’d gotten hurt.”

Jamil shook his head and went on his way, leaving Kalim alone. Now that they were in the safety of the dorms, he could rest…Both of them could. Kalim quickly takes off his gloves and pressed his palms together, breathing in deep and for the first time in a while let the tears fall from his eyes.

His breathing was slow and steady, his walking slightly shakey and laborious but his palms no longer itched and the flowers halted in their growth. When he entered his room, he plopped his face into his pillow and letting it soak up all that he had felt.

Flowers were beautiful and revered for just being alive. Flowers were born lucky and he wasn’t. He breathed in deep and moved away from the pillow to breathe, his thoughts went back to your face with a smile so delicate like thin glass.

“There are moments I wanted to be born as a flower.”

Evading Jamil and regrouping with you was a new normal for him, waiting for the right moment that Jamil is busy or focused on something or someone before bolting. The botanical garden was immediately a no-go after he had caught you there twice so the two of you decided to set course for a place no one normally goes to.

The fields blew, the tall sunflowers dancing in the wind and keeping both of you hidden from sight. You huffed a small laugh. “What kind of flower would you have wanted to be like?” Kalim touched the fibrous stem of the sunflower.

“Maybe a sunflower. People like them and they give really tasty seeds.” Bringing his knees together, Kalim’s expression shifted to one of deep thought. The sun cast a soft light over them, his eyes almost glowing like rubies under it.

The brief silence between you harbored no negativity but one of understanding. You and he had bonded with the small time together and Kalim knew very well that you wouldn’t run away from these kinds of conversations. You listened and you replied with what resonated with you.

He liked your honesty and he didn’t spare any effort to show his appreciation to you.

“What about you?” He asked, looking over to you as you thought about it.

“An osiria rose. They look really pretty and the petals are white with red tips.”  Smiling to yourself, you look into your hands. “It’s a rare flower and takes a lot of breeding mixes to perfect. I really like it.” Kalim hummed and looked up to the sky as the wind crashed against them.

“Flowers are really lucky, huh?” He said, leaning back with his palms flat on the ground. “No matter how dangerous or how defensive a flower is, people still like it just because.” You never mentioned it to him but Kalim was good at hiding. His eyes, to his lips, and to the very voice he used with you; there was never a time you actually saw his grief that way he saw yours.

“The very first time Jamil was poisoned back when we were young I didn’t know what to do with myself.” His fingers shook and removed his glove and letting his bare skin grow flowers on the ground he touched, allowing flowers to grow where he touched. “He didn’t wake up until weeks later while I was escorted around by different people.” You blinked, leaning your head towards him.

“I’m sure his family was worried, his sister tried her best not to show it but I knew better.” Feeling your head on his shoulder, he reciprocated the action with a small laugh. “That was probably the time I realized how unlucky my origins were.”

“Kalim.”

“It’s a stretch, I know.” His smile morphed into a frown. “I don’t like asking for much knowing how much effort people have to make to get it done.” Your hand held his and soon, your fingers closed onto each other. “I’m fine. I just wanted to vent—.” He said but you only shook your head.

“It’s okay to cry, Kalim. I won’t say anything.” And he did, he continued looking forward yet the tears betrayed neutral expression. He sniffled when you continued to hold his hand.

“I met someone special back then. They made me very happy.” The both of you needed to move hiding places when Jamil caught wind of your meeting without him, the two of you opt to go to a field behind the school. A place not a lot of people go to, the flowers were not bountiful where you sat and the air was cooler.

While the bluebells were scattered in patches, coloring the meadow blue and green. “But I was young and stupid like most people, I thought they’d be with me for a long time.” You smiled at him, chuckling. “It’s silly but, I was really sad when they left.

“They meant a lot to you, didn’t they?” Kalim wondered.

“The meant the world to me.”

The both of you smile and your hand brought itself to your lip, a finger hooked under it. “It’s silly, really. It’s nothing like what you went through. I was so hung up on it that I ended up getting hit with the curse.” Kalim places a hand on your back as you laugh with a bitter taste in your mouth. “It’s silly, I know. It’s nothing compared to what you went through.”

“Still, losing someone important hurts a ton. Especially when you couldn’t get to say goodbye.”

Nodding your head, you lean against Kalim’s shoulder and he does the same by leaning against you. The bluebells flutter into the wind, your nose sniffling and eyes carrying a lingering sting. Kalim’s hand goes to your shoulder, rubbing it.

You hold your palms, scratching at it through the wrap. “Thank you for listening, Kalim.” You say, rubbing your eyes slightly. “I really appreciate it.”

Kalim stared into the distance, holding you close to him and not minding what little tears you chose to let out in front of him. “You did the same for me.”

The tendency to be clumsy often comes at the worst times, Kalim and your hands were wetted with some nice fruit juices he managed to snag when Jamil wasn’t looking. Both his gloves and your wraps lay soaked on the ground in front of you.

“I…” Kalim sighed and you shook your head. “Those things do get hard to wear after some time. It’s nice to feel the air again.” You rub your hands together, palms soft after being confined for so long. Kalim sits on the ground across from you. “I’m sorry, I’m sure we can find something to wrap your hands with.”

“Yup.”

The both of you looked at the items before you in silence, both of your hands to themselves and never touching at all. “Do you ever…Do you miss being able to touch things?” You ask him and he nods his head. “I do. I miss being able to feel brooms and the blankets I have. I try not to mind it much.”

You ball your palms together, interlacing fingers over each other. “I see.” Suddenly you bring out your hand to his, palm open for him to take. “But…” He hesitates but his hand comes out slowly. “It’s alright to ask for things.” You say. “Go on.”

He took a breath in, his hand inching towards yours. He thought about his first meeting and the many times he evaded Jamil just to be with you.

“I trust you.”

Did he really deserve to be able to ask for this? After all the things he’s caused?

“I do too.”

Your hands touched and mirrored each other; the itchiness he expected to feel was no longer present. The silence was tense and his shoulders and breathing were shaking yet your hold on him calm with a knowing and relieved smile on your lips. Your eyes met one another and Kalim smiled, lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you into him into a hug; his laugh tingling beside your ear.

Your hands feel the softness of the fabric and your nose breathed in the scent of his clothes. You closed your eyes, burying your face into his shoulder, bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new as you imagined a new life ahead of you. A pot of olive flowers blooms not too far from your position as you two shared an embrace long-awaited.

Peace had been found between two kindred souls. Finally, after so long.

[timextoxhajima]

Grounded: Level 0

Level 1

Member: Minho (Lee Know)

Genre: idol minho x idol trainee reader, angst cause is it a dana fic if there is no angst

Taglist: @valeriee-h​

A/N: Thank you for 400 followers. You all have been nothing but exceptional. 

[F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 6]

The metallic taste seeping into your mouth was starting to annoy you, and on top of that, the tears that were running down your cheeks and between your lips were stinging the wounds you managed to inflict on yourself with your teeth.

You can hear the laughter and the sound of the bass against the flooring from where you were, though you were a good distance away from the practicing hall. The room smelled like dust and must due to the hose reel box being unused for such a long time, you wouldn't know. Your hands were probably messed up from all the accidental touching of the walls and the floor -- and great, now you've gone ahead and wiped away your tears with your hands.

Your teeth are gritted so hard against each other that you can feel your temples tightening, and all you want to do was to pack up and go home and call it quits--

"I know you're in there."

Silence. Then a shadow comes to block the bars of light coming through the slits of the door.

Choosing to keep quiet, you don't know why you thought he'd go away. He was the vice-captain of the dance crew and he obviously wasn't going to let you go without getting you out of the hose reel storeroom.

"I'm not going to force you out. But I need to know just one thing."

A pause.

"Do you still like dancing?"

Out of shame, you look down to your knees, now curled up into your chest. The tears continue to fall because you both know your answer. It’s just the physical pain and lack of resistance that’s keeping you from going further.

You can hear him sigh when he leans against the door, the wood creaking just the slightest with his weight against it. It was almost completely dark, now that he’s covered most of the slits in the door. The sweat trailing down the sides of your forehead and down your cheek gets mistaken for tears, urging you to wipe them away with the back of your hand. 

“I know you’re tired, but if you stop here, then there’s no way you can improve.”

You gulp, your throat feeling dry from the continuous days of air-conditioned practice hall and then the crying did nothing but further aggravate it. 

“...What makes you think I can still improve? What if this is the furthest I can go?”

“I thought like that once,” A small thud. He probably leaned his head backwards. “But I signed up for this because I like it. And frankly, I don’t know what else I’d do if I don’t do this for myself. So, now my question is: who are you doing this for, and if you’re willing to continue doing it for yourself?”

Your head is empty. There’s nothing but the want to start moving again, it’s the reflection in the mirror you’re afraid to see. 

The music from the practise hall starts again. By now, the song is more than annoying, but the adrenaline always manages to push you through anyway. The door creaks and more light floods in when he shifts away. 

“Come talk to me if you need to after practise. But for now, just come back and finish for today, okay? I’ll see you inside.”

He stays still for a few moments, before the sound of his shoes shuffle away from the storage room. Leaning your head back against the wall, you let the humidity coat your face like a layer of warmth. 

Why’d he have to give me that stupid pep-talk?

Shutting your eyes tightly, you recall the amount of effort you took to audition for this. A stage where BTS would perform on, and they were looking for a small group of girls in the back-up dancers’ team. The chances were ten to... hundreds. 

You shuffle to your feet, eyelids heavy from the physical activity but heart still full of hope. Your fingers wrap around the cold handle of the door and push it open, greeting the bright lights that illuminate the corridor down to the practice hall.

“Where is-- Oh! There you are!” The choreographer nearly yells into the mic when you rush through the door, some of your other dance crew mates jokingly yells at you for taking your own sweet time. 

“Sorry, bathroom.”

“Okay, okay. GIve us a head up if you’re going to do a number 2 next time, would you?”

Some of the dancers chuckle at the choreographer’s teasing, nudging you or ruffling your hair before they return to their positions. And as you do, you cannot help but to lock eyes with the vice-captain in the front row. He had the tiniest smile you’ve ever seen, the kind that if you didn’t stare hard enough... or if you didn’t pay enough attention... you’d miss it. 

A small nods finds you, eyes of encouragement welling up in his brown orbs under the lighting, and then the choreographer asks for the music. It thrums through you like an Earthquake, but instead of conjuring magma and ash and gas, it sucks the passion out of you and motivates you to move your feet again. 

The practise session ends fast, only because you realised you had been enjoying it. So when the choreographer thanks the dance crew and jumps off to speak to the captain, you take your time to grab a drink for yourself and let some other crew members chat you up. 

That is, until you noticed the vice-captain strutting out of the practise hall quietly. Excusing yourself, you grab your belongings and rush out behind him, just missing the lift that he was in. 

He’s about twenty metres ahead when you run out of the stairs lobby, the cool end-of-winter wind kissing your sweaty skin.

“Minho!” 

The boy stops in his tracks, taking awhile to look up from his phone as he slowly turns his head around. He watches with intent eyes as you catch up to him, gently huffing from the hurrying after he quietly left the practice hall.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t disappoint me,” Minho looks back down at his phone before locking it. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come back.” 

Once you’ve aligned your footing with him, he shoves his phone into his pocket and waits for you to calm your breathing. The sky was dark now, but the streets were still bustling from all the night market activities - fried seafood, crackers, cotton candy. 

Minho turns his head back to the streets where waves of people were walking past, taking a first step to tell you he’s going to start walking. 

“I just wanted to thank you for that little pep-talk.”

“Pep-talk?” Minho chuckles under his breath. “Oh, you don’t know what a pep-talk sounds like.”

The crowd washes the both of you in some direction, the scent of food wafting in the air coupled with the overlapping conversations and loud music from some stands made you feel like you’ve just entered some amusement park. Smoke was prancing in the air against the night sky and people chewing loudly on food brought you some strange sense of nostalgia -- though you’ve walked this exact road for some months now. It just so happened that the night market only came round every Lunar New Year. 

“I just... I hope you know how much that means to me. It’s the first time I’ve done something of this scale so... it seems easier for me to lose faith.”

Minho stops at a particular store selling some honey-glazed apples and orders two. It’s like he didn’t hear you. 

Standing awkwardly next to him, the store owner carelessly hands Minho the two sticks with the stabbed apple on the top, and he doesn’t hesitate to hand her a five dollar bill. Just enough.

“Thank you,” He turns around, the store owner barely acknowledging his business. “People lose faith all the time. You just need to know when to force yourself to have it again.” 

Handing you one stick, Minho doesn’t wait for you to process the offer and his words simultaneously before he’s off again. By the time you’ve walked the length of the night market and reach the main streets of the city, Minho has cleared every drop of honey and apple on the stick, and you were just busy finishing up the last one-eighth of it, the bite nearly touching your fingers. 

At the bus stop, Minho drops himself on the bench, scrolling through his phone as you are occupied with licking the honey off your fingers while you find the nearest trashcan. Ironically, out here along the main road, there were fewer people. More traffic on the road, definitely. But it’s like everybody was so busy living their lives, you’ve forgotten to live yours. 

You’ve spent more than half your time in the last three months coming to this same practise hall, dancing the same steps over and over and over again until every cell in your blood and body knows it by heart. 

But what worth is it? For a performance that you wouldn’t even be seen?

You sigh, eyes darting downwards naturally to see what he’s been staring at on his phone-- then you see it. 

NEW EMAIL: CUBE AUDITION RESULTS

Your eyes widen, lips somehow still stuck together despite the overwhelming excitement in your lungs. Sucking your lips in between your teeth, you watch in anticipation as he clicks the notification and it directs him to his email. Poor boy doesn’t know you’re watching, but it’s a good thing, because the first two sentences were enough to tell you what his reaction could be. 

Dear Lee Minho, we’ve received your audition tape and reviewed it carefully. Unfortunately, we are unable to accept you as a trainee. We wish you the best in all your future endeavors. 

Regards,

Cube Audition Management

Biting down on your bottom lip, your eyes quickly flit away when he closes the app and keeps his phone. Standing next to him, it’s a wonder how he’s managed to hold himself together. If it had been you who was rejected, you’d be on the floor bawling by now. But Minho’s strength is subtly concrete when he only watches his bus arrive, standing up and only turning around to ask, “Are you taking the same bus?”

“Um, yeah but my dad’s coming to get me, so I’m waiting here.”

Minho nods, the bus stopping right at the foot of the bus stop. Other passengers waiting for the bus start to crowd, but Minho doesn’t bust an inch just yet. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

You hum in response. They’ve started boarding, so Minho’s taking small steps towards the vehicle. 

“If you don’t come, believe me when I say I’ll whoop your ass.”

You can’t help the small scoff that bursts through your lips when he says it, that tiny smile of his emerging shyly on his face for a split second. Reducing the amount of time you get to admire that strength in him, he turns and gets on the bus. 

[D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 6]

At this point, half the dance crew was probably crying their hearts out back stage. BTS’ Fire and Not Today performance at the KBS Song Festival was the last official time you would be performing as one unit with this dance crew. Any Fire or Not Today performances in the future would call for a renewed or changed dance crew line-up, which meant you’ll never see the same group of people on stage again. 

Heck, even your captain was sobbing his eyes out, mercilessly pulling everybody he could find into a hug and muttering some incoherent words of gratitude in their ears. You were laughing and wiping away the droplets on your face, unsure if they were tears or sweat, when he came to you and pulled you into a bear hug. 

Everybody hears the heavy backstage door close and BTS shows up just steps from you, and the group of idols know very well that this was the last performance with the current line-up of crew members. 

“Dul, set, Bang! Tan!” More people are crying now, and Namjoon just looks prouder than he was sad. “Annyeong haseyo, Bangtansonyeondan ibnida.”

The captain literally starts wining, not hesitating to go up and hug Hoseok tightly. The members embrace him in the hug, offering him words of praise and compliment as Namjoon urges them to keep their volume down. The leader thanks the crew for the enduring hardwork for the past year - from when the track was first released, to the first choreography reviewing and then the constant performances on all kinds of stages. 

Blinking away your tears, you manage to catch Minho standing at the far end of the first row, and if you weren’t mistaken, you could catch Jimin showing him two thumbs up. 

“I hope to see all of you around, and once again, BTS thanks you for your hardwork for the last year. Take care everybody!” 

Everybody erupts into loud yells of ‘thanks’ and ‘bye’s, but before you can the other crew members in shaking their hands as they return to their dressing room, one of BTS’ assistant managers approach you.

“Hi, can I check if you’re y/n?”

“Uh--” Minho catches your frantic glancing behind the assistant manager. “Yes.”

“Great, so...” The assistant manager fumbles in his back pocket, your eyes darting down to notice him pulling out a name card. Your peripheral vision presents you with Minho looking at you from behind the assistant manager, eyes and ears peeled. “We’ve been monitoring the dance unit and... we think you might have potential.”

He hands you the name card, and your hands are trembling when you process the carbon printing on it.

BIGHIT CASTING

Anxious, you look back up at the assistant manager. Yet, he offers you a mere smile before walking away, leaving you and Minho behind as the rest of the crew pushes themselves nearer to the back of the staff area. 

The restaurant had been booked for the sole purpose of the dance unit celebrating your final performance there, and while the card was being bent in all sorts of different ways in your back pocket, all you cared about was being in a moment.

BigHit casting? Why would you even subject yourself to that kind of torment? A solid 7 to 8 years of no privacy, probably no dating, and if you were caught outside with someone of the opposite gender, you’d be royally screwed over.

“You’re going to get drunk.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not even legal to drink, and it sucks, honestly.”

“Pfft,” Rolling your eyes, you collect the shot of Soju from one of the older crew members. “I’ll take like five shots. I’ll be fine.”

Minho glares at his captain, thoughtlessly pushing the shot across the smooth surface of the table to you. 

“You know she’s like, 16 right?”

“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to let her try some. Besides, we all did a great job this past year. I think we all deserve a little break.”

Minho huffs, the air pushing his fringe upwards for a split second. He watches you down the shot, the burning alcohol forcing a look of slight disgust on your face. 

“Told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“Ugh,” Sticking your tongue out, you reach for your glass of water and take a huge gulp. “I’ll get used to it.”

Nah.

“My God, why are you so heavy?” Minho grunts, struggling to keep your arm over his shoulders. He looks behind him, busking in some slight satisfaction when he had managed to get the captain completely wasted by playing some stupid game with him, the kind that he would never win. The other vice-captain and another crew member were channeling all that effort into keeping the big-sized boy on his feet. You remember hearing Minho’s hearty (or evil) laughter when the captain plops to the floor, completely blacking out. 

“Okay, he’s your responsibility now!” He yells at the top of his lungs, dragging you towards the nearest bus stop in his knowledge.

“Go fuck yourself, Minho! Have some mercy next time, would you?!” HIs co-vice captain shouts back.

“I’ll think about it!” Minho laughs, trying really hard not to drop you as he waves back. 

“Bye, see you soon!”

Minho returns his attention to you, half your body already leaning a good ninety degrees towards the floor. 

“Free bows for the floor, huh?” He grunts as he gives up on holding just one of your arms. Afraid that he was going to dislocate something, he pulls you onto his back. Your head is pressed into his shoulder when he turns round the corner, eyes looking up to gauge the distance to the bus stop. “Oi.”

“Hmm?” Your head of messy hair perks up from his shoulder, your eyelids feeling too heavy to keep open. 

“Are you going for it? The audition I mean.”

You groan, throwing your head back into his shoulder. Tightening your arms around his collar, you grit your teeth and swallow the burning sensation of alcohol in your throat. 

“I don’t think I want to think about that now. I have school to worry about.”

“You’ll just be put into SOPA.”

“What about university?”

“That’s like 3 years away for you. And studying can wait if you’re chasing your dream,” A pause as he sets you down at the bus stop, grabbing your bag and searching for your wallet to take out your bus card. “Of course, only if you want it.”

Your head hangs low, the Soju zipping through your blood like hamsters do in their tunnels. Minho turns, spotting the bus nearing.

“Do me a favour and swallow your vomit if you need to, don’t make a mess in the bus.”

[O C T O B E R 2 0 1 7]

Do you know the feeling of your lungs collapsing in on themselves when you can’t breathe? When your heart is palpitating so fast, it feels like it’s stopped? 

“I don’t know why you guys are treating it like it’s a huge thing-- I might not even make it.”

“Shut the fuck up, would you? You signed up for it, shouldn’t you put your 100% and go as far as you can?”

The words can’t find their way out of your mouth. Minho was sitting in his sofa, petting Soon-ie, with a huge duffel bag at his feet. You were sitting in Minho’s living room, with Doongie curled up in your lap and the dance captain from BTS’ Fire and Not Today performance dance unit about to swing a fist in Minho’s face. 

An awkward silence fell upon the three of you, knowing that this could be the start of a friendship with a changed dynamic. You were one foot into BigHit because you’ve passed the first audition, Minho was going on JYP’s Stray Kids survival show and your dance-captain was being scouted into Yuehua’s waters.

The morning sun gushes down onto your faces when Minho’s father rushes to get the car ready, leaving the three of you at the entrance of the carpark. Your dance captain had an audition appointment with Yuehua soon, so he pulls Minho into a tight hug and provides him a harsh pat on the back.

“Make us proud.”

Minho doesn’t respond, only nodding subtly before sending him off. 

But you? You are reluctant to even look at him. If he wins that show, he’d be gone for more days and months than you can count. No longer would he spend his Christmases and New Years with you, but with his group members. His cats wouldn’t be meowing for his attention, because he’s not at home anymore.

What’s worse, if you get through BigHit’s third audition, you’ll be thrown into a girl group. 

And Godforsake a girl group member being seen with a boy group member, right?

“You could be a little more enthusiastic, y’know.”

“How can I be enthusiastic when I’m watching you strut your ass off into unchartered territory?”

Minho smiles, his bunny teeth unafraid to expose themselves. You can see his father’s car coming out, the ache in your heart getting harder and harder to ignore. 

“I’ll come back to find you, or maybe BigHit, I don’t know,” Minho gently pulls you into a hug, careful to keep his hands on your upper back and shoulders. “But I will always come back to you.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Room Service.”

“How is he?’

“As good as he can be given the situation.”

“And how good is that?”

….

…

“Not good. No good at all.”

Ramirez, Dr. katie and krill peered in through the doorway, trying to be discreet so the figure inside might not notice their presence. He stood alone on the bridge, in the dimmed light of the late hour rimmed only by the glowing neon of the console lights.

“Someone should talk to him.” “Not me, I am defective in human emotions.” Krill announced 

“I talked to him last time.” Katie said, turning to look pointedly at Ramirez.

Ramirez nodded, gathered himself up, and then stepped onto the bridge, his boots quiet on the floor as he moved across the intervening space.

Gently, he reached out a hand and placed it on the other man’s shoulder, “Adam… it's getting kind of late.”

Adam didn’t even bother to look over at him. Though the dim lighting did much to hide his gaunt appearance, it was still evident through his sunken eyes, scruffy hair, and weak old facial growth that he was not himself.

“Tell Dr. Katie and krill that they can stop spying on me and head to bed.”

Ramirez paused before continuing with some measure of guilt, “They are just worried about you, you’ve hardly slept, barely eaten and-”

“One month Ramirez, Shs been gone ONE month and only God knows what they are doing to her.” He shivered, his single, haunted green eye welling with moisture in the light of the console.

The tears did not fall.

“Somewhere out there some BASTARDS are cutting her to pieces. And I… I can’t find her Ramirez.”

He took a deep tortured breath, one arm around his chest, the other hand cupping his chin, running a thumb over the scruffy growth on his face and chin.

Ramirez kept a hand on his shoulder opened his mouth and then closed it again. What should he say what ‘could’ he say to something like this.

He turned his head looking Ramirez in the eye for the first time that night, and in the sharper light his appearance only grew worse, like a man who hadn’t gotten out of bed in a month…. Or in this case…. A man who hadn’t gone to bed in a month.

“I… I love her Ramirez…. I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

The revelation didn’t surprise Ramirez, not in the slightest.

He squeezed Adam’s shoulder, “I know…. I know.”

***

Sunny lay on the floor of her ‘cage’ listening to the sound of a circular saw. Something that had only grown more and more common in her life over the past month…. Or at latest she thought it might have been a month. Then again to her, it felt like a year.

She didn’t even bother to lift her head, and she was too weak anyway, the drugs had that effect. If they really wanted, they probably could have left her unchained: she wouldn't have been able to lift her head, much less move.

One of her captors grunted and as he did there came a sort of crunching squelching noise as he pulled the Rest of the Drev’s carapace from his deceased corpse. The body rocked and then stayed limp against the ground. The man dropped the carapace to the side with a grunt.

“What did I say about damaging the goods.”

“We are just going to grind it up anyway so don’t even give me that.” The man paused as he looked over his handiwork, wiping orange gore from his hands and onto his pants, “never had this much of it at once.”

“Yeah and now we gotta ration it so as not to lower our prices.”

The second man looked over at the remaining Drev with narrowed eyes, “Guess this means you scarabs get  break for a little while, now isn’t that nic.”

Sunny shivered feeling the cold of her skin on the bare floor. Aside from that chip taken from her shoulder, they had begun their real rituals on the forearm of her lower left, slowly stripping the carapace away in small chunks the perfect size to be bottled. A good portion of her forearm was raw and sensitive to the cold in the room. It made her sick to look at, and angry, but threw as nothing she could do. She had been continually sedated for the past month, and if she wasn’t she had been enclosed inside that steel box before being gassed.

All in all, there was no avenue of escape, and if there had been, she certainly would have tried.

Darkness shrouded her vision and she spent her last moments of consciousness staring idly at the other Drev lying prone in the darkness.

***

Adam jolted upright in his chair not having realised he had fallen asleep. He wasn’t sure what had woken him at first, until the soft sounds of feet registered to him from across the room.

He turned in his seat, only to see a large huling shape approach him from the doorway. Blue light glowed over the red carapace and Adam stood. Cannon, the only other person he trusted to understand what he was feeling. Golden eyes flashed at him from the darkness blazing with as much anger as he felt.

“Something wrong Cannon.”

“I just got a call.”

He hurried forward eager to hear, “What.”

“Some old friends back on Noctopolis was offered a vile of green liquid from a buyer. He claimed it had all natural contents, and could be used for a variety of ailments and beauty regimes. The bottle alone cost over 100,000 dollars.”

Adam gritted his teeth hands clenching into fists, “Does he know where to find this “Buyer”?”

Cannan nodded his large head, “He says he knows where he is staying, but is just a lead…. And…. well I… I was planning on looking into it myself. Conventional methods  aren’t working, and I’m tired of sitting around as I know you are too.”

Adam’s knuckles grew white, “Where is this lead?”

***

Toni sat in his hotel room resting on the bed and switching rather mechanically through the channels. He ha two pillows behind his back and wore nothing but a shirt and boxer shorts. He had always thought that alien TV was sort of weird, and personally didn’t like the creatures himself, but it was lucrative business, and he was willing to deal with a few bug-like creeps if it meant getting paid exorbitant amounts of money. Even taking a ten percent for each sail, and making a sail only once a month, that was 10,000 dollars a pop beside his other gigs, which made him a very, very wealthy man.

A very wealthy man who definitely could have chosen better lodgings, but somehow still liked the aesthetic of back alley seedy motels. There was just something about the distantly loud music and the couples fighting in the next room that reminded him of home, not his own home, for his childhood and been surprisingly normal, but his home back on earth in his little apparent in the understreets of New York.

He glanced over at the side table, where his last vial was sitting, glittering in the overhead light., a bright electric blue.he bet he could sell it for a markup without the boss knowing, and maybe squeeze a little more cash out of the sail without anyone being the weiser. Besides, its not like anyone was going to miss money the didn’t expect to have.

The thought made him smile. 

He sighed deeply and leaned back in the pillows, closing his eyes halfway as he prepared to fade into a sort of fitful sleep.

And that is when the loud knocking came on the door.

He jolted upright cursing and sat up.

The knocking came again and he cursed violently throwing his feet over the side of the bed, “Coming!”

Feet sticking slightly against the rather tacky carpet, he walked up to the door and peered through the peep-hole. outside , he saw a man standing with a stack of towels and growled. He didn’t remember ordering more towels.

Still, he tugged the door open, “Wha-”

His voice died on his lips. The man who stood before him raised his head, scruffy unkempt and with murder in his eyes, and right behind him, outside of view of the peephole, was a massive Red drev.

“Room service.” The man said, holding up a stack of towels, and before Toni could react, the man used the towels to cushion the sound of his punch, a punch that was so powerful it sent Tony reeling backwards onto the sticky carpet.

Both man and Drev stepped into the room letting the door snap shut behind them.

It was only then that Toni noticed what the man was wearing.

A metal exoskeleton of shiny silver metal and whirring actuators.

He knew what tat was.

Iron eye armor.

He had sold one on the black market not so many months ago.

Which meant he knew what it could do. 

He crawled back across te floor hands over his face, “please don’t… I y-you got the wrong guy I… I don’t-”

The man reached down with both hands and hauled him into the air as if he were a kitten. The suit he wore hissing and spitting below him like a dragon, “I think the fuck not.” His human eye rolled wildly in his head, but Teri culdnt help but notice the mechanical eye fixated upon him at that moment, the appriture zeroed in on him like a targeting system, which it might well have been. He knew Tesraki work when he saw it.

“Adam.’

The man paused and turned just in time or the two of them to see the Drev pick the blue vile up from the bedside table. In that moment of horrible silence, Teri knew what was coming next.

He heard the appriture of the mechanical snap shut zeroing in on him, and then an explosion of pain through his back and body as he was slammed into the floor.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THIS!” the man screamed 

He gasped and choked even as he was slammed into the floor again.

“I SAID WHERE DID YOU GET IT!”

The big Drev was holding up the vile now, holding it up like a conviction. A sword held over his head.

The green eyed man was so mad with rage that he feared he would die before he could even answer.

But he calmed down just enough, to allow him a breather and to choke out he words.

“A….an old f-friend told me to sell… it.” He choked out his voice high and squeaking past his rapidly crushed airway.

“Where are they!” The man snarled, teeth barred little drops of spittle flying from his mouth and reflected in the seedy dim light above. His pale skin was so red with pure rage that he wouldn’t have been surprised if the man burst a blood vessel.”

He thought about the money of course.

Thought about how much he would lose if he told this man.

Thought about losing a good seller and buyer.

Thought about all the money he had in the bank right now.

And quickly determined that he had rough to buy a small moon to retire.

“Ok ok! I don’t know where he is exactly!>” The man’s face screwed up into a look of rage and he stammered slightly, “W-woah I said i don’t know ‘exactly’ but I know ‘approximately’. They tend to orbit A136 because of its hub connections with other planets and its central place within the smuggling ring.”

“What class ship do they own.”

“One of those luxury cruisers…. Big thing, fo like civilian transport or some shit, but they use it for cargo. I…. l look man I have no idea what they did to you, but I’m just the fence. I had nothing to do with the actual operation, hell I don’t even know where they get the damned stuff.” For a moment he was pretty sure that he was going to die. More sure than he had ever been about anything.

But then with a light whirring the man stop. 

He was breathing hard, his face was slick with sweat and his hands trembled, but at least he seemed to have decided not to murder him.

The Drev on the other hand, still holding the bottle, looked at him with such malicious intent that his life flashed before his eyes a second time. He closed them not willing to see his death if it was coming. He didn’t need to know anything and didn’t want to see it.

And he waited 

And waited 

And waited

The next time he opened his eyes, the room around him was empty, the vile was gone and he was left alone with a few cracked ribs and a determination to retire from his life of crime.

Whoever those people were, he never wanted to see them again.

Besides it was as good enough a reason as any to retire early.

***

Sunny awoke to the door opening with a hiss; she was feeling a little better today, if not a bit groggy and disoriented. Her arm didn’t hurt so much, which meant the missing carapace was already healing over. Still, the cold felt strange and unwanted against her skin, and she held the arm close to her body where it was warmer, and the air didn’t seem so strange.

The voices grew louder, and she was surprised to hear a woman’s voice joining in with the man, “Lady, Bennett, I… admit we are surprised to see you here. We assure you, our supply chain is still functioning perfectly.”

The woman’s sharp voice pierced the air like a blade, cutting into Sunny’s very soul, “I did not come here to discuss the function of your supply chain. I came here to discuss the product you sold me.”

There was a pause, “Are you… dissatisfied with the outcome ma’am.”

“No, I enjoy the product, but I wish to purchase in another color. None of your buyers have anything other than this…. green color, which is nice for in the winter when I am missing the spring, but I want something more cheerful for summer. My daughters and I, that is, which means I would be willing to pay for at least three of your bottles if you have any.”

The men paused and glanced between each other, “well…. The process is not… something that someone like yourself…”

“Show me the stock, boy or you lose my business.”

The men paused and then agreed, and the slow footsteps came up the hallway.

She heard the sound as the people passed into the room and slowly lifted her head.

Her two captors, and a older, but still elegant woman stepped into the room, and despite the gruesome scene before her, she did not flinch, staring around at the captive Drev in various stages of drug induced sleep or drug induced exhaustion.

Sunny d her best not to ganer to much attention, but as soon as the woman’s eyes fell on her, she knew the fight was lost.

The elegant woman made a b-line across the room and straight to her cage, “This one, this small blue one.” I like her coloring.

She paused, “Open the cage.”

The two men did as told with no argument and sunny felt the breeze of the cage door as it swung open. The woman squatted down on her impossibly tall heels and grabbed Sunny under the chin, forcing her to look up. She tapped one of her nails against Sunny’s carapace. It made a sort of hard clattering sound, Sunny jerked her head away in the only symbol of defiance she could muster.

The woman smiled, the grin spreading impossibly wide across her face, “A very beautiful color…. My decision has been made.”

Sunny felt her heart sink down in her chest plummeting into her stomach where it was likely to remain.

The two men grabbed the chains and hauled down on them, lifting her from the cage and into a standing position.

“You may not want to watch this Ma’am.” 

“I think I will be just fine.” She said, the smile never leaving hre face.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Fifteen

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: Not beta-read. I hope everyone has had a nice week! Warnings: Some cursing; some angst ... I don’t wanna spoil it for y’all But!! Thank you for all of the likes and reblogs and comments!! I love chatting with y’all 🥰 Summary:  Once I’d seen the notification of Pike’s message, panic had shot through me. I didn’t open it, I didn’t answer it. Whatever conversation he wanted to have with me, surely he’d want to wait until the tea wore off, anyway.

“I thought Boyce told you to go to your quarters.” My hands were already clenched into fists, so I didn’t need to find a way to hide my reaction to hearing that voice again, so close, and so soon. Once I’d seen the notification of Pike’s message, panic had shot through me. I didn’t open it, I didn’t answer it. Whatever conversation he wanted to have with me, surely he’d want to wait until the tea wore off, anyway. I knew that there was no way a shower and working through a poem was going to get my mind off this (though my grasp of Klingon was getting better). I’d gotten changed and gone down to the gym. I was relieved to find it empty. I needed to work off some of the nervous energy that had been pulsing through me for the last hour.

My assumption about what Pike wanted had been wrong. Here he was, behind me, his voice almost stony in its reminder of what the doctor had told me. I raised my hands to steady the punching bag before turning back to face the Captain. “He did,” I nodded, “And I went. He didn’t tell me to stay there.”

Pike’s face was unreadable. That was new -- that was bad. I’d spent so much time around the man that I could usually at least gauge his mood. In private, Pike tended to wear his every thought, every feeling on his sleeve. He was guarding himself now. I couldn’t be too offended - I was, too. We’d crossed a line on Koutov, and I didn’t know what it meant for my professional relationship with the Captain, or my time on the Enterprise - if I had any left. “He told you to get rest,” Pike reminded me. “I can do that when I’m finished here.” Pike took a deep breath, face unmoving, still. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was feeling - irritation? Fury? Hurt? Betrayal? I couldn’t imagine it being anything light or fluffy where I was concerned, not right now. I’d probably know exactly what he was feeling if I’d heeded his message when he’d sent it, but I wasn’t ready to face whatever this was about to be. “I need to speak with you,” He said quietly, “About what happened.” “We can do that when I’m finished here, too.” “Now, lieutenant.” Everything in me was screaming to not be stupid, to not make this worse, but my mouth opened and I answered, “Later, Captain.” I saw Pike’s jaw muscle twitch as he clenched his teeth. I’d seen him frustrated, sure, but I’d never seen him angry. He gave one firm nod before he said, “Fine.” I watched him reach up and unzip his command jacket to reveal a black long-sleeve shirt underneath. “Wh-What are you doing?” I asked, watching him step aside and setting his jacket on the bench where I’d left my water bottle and communicator. “Best two out of three,” Pike answered, tone clipped, “If you win, we talk later. If I win, we talk now.” “You can’t be serious.” “Do I look like I’m joking, lieutenant?” 

He really didn’t. In fact, he had already gone to the mats and taken up a fighting stance. I sighed quietly, mirroring his stance and taking a breath to calm myself. “What counts as a win?” I asked. “Your opponent’s back hitting the mat. I believe you’re familiar with that feeling, lieutenant, considering the last time we had the occasion to spar, you wound up there a number of times. Five, if I’m not mistaken?” The goading had always worked before; Pike and I usually engaged in a fair bit of smack-talk when we were sparring. This was different, though. I really, really didn’t want to talk about what had happened on Koutov; I didn’t want to fight about it, and I certainly didn’t want to fist-fight about it. Did that tea amplify the bad feelings along with the good? The quickest way to end this would be to go for the vulnerable areas - his eyes, his throat, his crotch. But my fighting dirty could mean Pike reciprocating, and I could only imagine that going downhill exceptionally quickly. My contemplation had me so distracted that I nearly missed Pike drawing his right arm back for a hook. I raised both hands on instinct, stepping forward into the oncoming attack. I blocked his arm with my left and bent my right arm in toward my head, using my elbow to deflect any further attack from Pike’s upper body. He reeled away, taking two steps back before bringing his right leg up for a kick. I blocked one strike with my shin, then another, then another, working him a step back with each one. “Are you planning on attacking at all, lieutenant?” Pike snapped. “Why would I tell you?” I retorted before ducking out of the way out of a jab. I caught hold of Pike’s arm with my hands, twisting and turning under it before using his forward momentum to throw him over my shoulder. His back hit the mat with a satisfying thud. “...That’s one,” I added. I hesitated before I held my hand out to Pike. He ignored it, pushing himself off of the ground. “Again,” He ordered. I sighed heavily, resetting my stance. I wasn’t going to argue; I wasn’t going to throw out some line about how if I had kicked his ass once, I was sure to do it again. I was too distracted by the beads of sweat that were breaking out on his forehead. This was probably bad; that line of thinking had gotten me in enough trouble already. My eyes darted to his neck, then his arms before lifting to his face again. “Don’t get cocky, lieutenant,” Pike added, as if I’d said something. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain,” I retorted, “Ya gonna hit me or what?” “I threw the first punch before, I figured we’d switch it up. Ladies first.” “So we’re punching at the same time?” Whoops. So much for not engaging in smack-talk. Pike’s lips quirked into a dangerous little smile. “You feel really good about this, huh?” He asked, lowering his hands and straightening up. I narrowed my eyes, keeping my hands where they were and holding steady even as Pike slowly came closer. “Is this a new tactic?” I asked, nodding toward him. “Feeling very, very good about this--” “It’s not gonna work.” “What isn’t?” “This ‘lulling me into a false sense of security’ bullshit,” I said, gesturing toward where his hands were lowered at his sides, “I’m not buying it-- and I’m a little offended that you think I’m that stupid.” Pike tipped his head to the side “I don’t think you’re stupid.” “If you don't get your hands up in the next ten seconds, Captain, we’re not talking about shit until either I get my own ship or Una resigns.” Pike was halfway to getting his hands up before I went for a jab-hook combo. He took two steps back as I did, eyes widening a little. I pulled both punches, knowing he wouldn’t be ready for them. I aimed a kick next, but Pike shifted out of the way of it. I wobbled as my foot landed unsteadily on the ground. Pike’s hand landed on my shoulder before he stepped in, hooking his leg around mine. Then he turned and pulled me toward him. I watched him pivot with me, as if we were moving in slow motion. My breath left me in a huff as my back made contact with the mat. Pike stood over me, that dangerous little smile back on his face. “You were saying, lieutenant?” I hesitated before I kicked my foot out, trying to sweep his feet. He hopped out of the way, chuckling and shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Up, come on.” I groaned as I pushed myself off of the floor. I never thought sparring with the Captain would get me in trouble; the man knew all of my moves now. I rolled my shoulders, flexing my fingers before clenching my hands into fists. There was no trash talk from either of us this time; both of us had just a little too much to lose. I don’t know if I was still winded from hitting the mat, burnt out from the tea running my emotions overtime, or just over fighting Pike, but this time, I made stupid decision after stupid decision. Pike went on the offensive - it took four kicks, one feint, two jabs, and I was on the floor. I had to fight the urge to kick my feet in frustration. “Let’s go,” Pike said firmly. I ignored the hand he held out to me as he had mine before. I grabbed my communicator and water bottle, following Pike out of the gym. Pissed as I was, we had a deal. When my head was clear, I wanted a damn rematch. I followed him in silence, expecting to go to the ready room. I stilled when I realized we were outside of his quarters. I bit my lip, eyes darting over Pike’s profile before looking up at down the halls, concerned someone would see us. He waved me inside when the door swooshed open. I stepped inside, fighting the urge to look around. The less time I spent being curious, the less time I’d have to would be in there. Pike walked further inside, tossing his jacket over the back of a chair. Was that wing-back-- No. No, I wasn’t looking. I lowered my eyes to the floor instead, tamping down the urge to look around. I leaned against the wall beside the door, folding my arms over my chest and waiting for Pike to speak. “You’re just going to stand there?” He asked after a moment. “You wanted to talk, so...Talk.” “Would you like to sit?” “I’m fine here.” I heard Pike sigh. “Aren’t you tired of fighting?” He grumbled as he came closer. I could feel the effects of the tea, still; my stomach swirled with nerves as Pike’s feet entered my field of vision. “That’s rich coming from you.” He hummed, reaching out and plucking my water bottle and communicator from my hands. I let them go; I doubted that Pike and I were about to start sparring in his quarters again, but I already mourned not having something to hold onto or fidget with. I heard him set them aside before he was standing in front of me again. “... What happened on Koutov,” He started, and oh, god, I already wanted to melt into the floor, “Was not ideal.” “An astute summation, Captain.” I saw Pike’s hand twitch by his side before he pressed on, “I recognize that we were -- and are -- under the effects of something that heightens our natural feelings.” I lifted my eyes to his, then, unable to help myself. I was wary, but so curious. “I also recognize that I crossed a boundary with you, and I’m sorry. It was unfair, and unprofessional, and I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” How was he being so goddamn level-headed now when he’d been so full of vim and vigor in the gym? “...You didn’t,” I managed after a moment, shaking my head, “And I’m sorry that I crossed that line as well. I-- I should never have touched you.” Pike swallowed thickly. “I told you that that was alright,” He pointed out. I uncrossed my arms and waved off the excuse. “Be that as it may, it didn’t exactly help what followed.” I could still picture it - still feel it, Pike’s hand sliding under my collar. His eyes were darting down now, to my lips, my throat. I felt myself shiver before I averted my eyes. This was a bad idea, this was a really bad idea. I should’ve stayed in my quarters and taken a shower and worked on some Klingon, damnit. “Lieutenant…” Pike’s hands settled on either side of me on the wall, caging me in. “If it weren’t for Mr. Spock and Number One…” Pike stepped a little closer, our chests brushing; my eyelids fluttered closed as he rested his temple against mine, “If they hadn’t come back…” Our cheeks brushed and I felt my breath catch in my throat. “Y-Yes?” I managed. Pike didn’t answer, just turned his head. I peeked up at him as I felt his nose brush against mine. He’d closed his eyes; his brow was wrinkled in that sweet way it always got when he was thinking something through. “Wait,” I managed. Pike’s eyes opened and he leaned away to get a better look at me. “What’s wrong?” He murmured. “Is… Is this the tea, or is it me?” I winced as I asked it, damning my need for reassurance, but I had to know. I couldn’t just string my hopes along any more only to wind up back in my quarters later, reconsidering a transfer to the Hiawatha. Pike’s brow furrowed again as he looked over my face. “Oh,” He dipped his head back down as he seemed to realize something, raising a hand and cupping my cheek gently, “You have no idea what you do to me.” For a moment, we were waiting one another out just as we had waited for the first punch in the gym. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind, but I was grappling with indecision. Everything in me was alight with how close we were, how gently he was touching me; I could just imagine the unimpressed little frown Una would fix me with; Spock’s raised brow and his mutter of, “Fascinating.”; my ears were ringing with what Pike had just uttered, its sincerity; his gaze was drifting to my lips, his tongue was darting out to wet his own-- I surged up, pressing my lips to his, warm and chaste. I immediately started to panic, because -- Koutovian tea or not, I was kissing my Captain. But before I could lean all the way away, apologize profusely and turn tail, Pike’s other hand lifted from the wall, snaking around my back and drawing me even closer into his chest. Reassured that he wanted this, that I could touch, I raised a hand to cup the back of his neck. Pike hummed, tipping his head to the side and sliding his lips sweetly over mine. My stomach gave a triumphant little flip. Pike liked this. Pike liked this, and he liked me. I rested my other hand hesitantly on Pike’s shoulder, curling my fingers possessively in the fabric. Pike rested his forehead back against mine as our lips parted; I couldn’t help my leaning up to chase another peck or two. He chuckled softly, and I felt the sound shoot right down to my toes. “That answer your question?” I pretended to consider for a moment. “I may need further clarification, Captain,” I said, opening my eyes. He grinned down at me. “I’d be happy to assist, lieutenant,” He murmured. Tag list: @angels-pie​​ ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta​ ​