#since they mostly alternate povs. sigh

[jinkoh]

the sun goes down

but it will rise again tomorrow

yunho x fem!reader

summary: things with yunho started as a means of comfort, you were in love with someone else after all. but why was it feeling like more than that?

tags: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, smut, unrequited love, sorta rich kid!au, also college, also beach, yunho has a tragic back story™, alternating povs (mostly yours); warnings: alcohol consumption, family issues, blood/injuries

wc: 6.2k

listen to: walk off the earth - summer vibe

a/n: writing an atz fic was definitely not on my bingo sheet but here i am and why is it 6k : D it's kind of a mess but it'd be a waste not to post it when it's already written. it's my first ateez fic so pls be gentle with me 👉🏻👈🏻 also i did hongjoong kinda dirty in this, i humbly apologize 🙇🏻‍♀️

It was too warm, your skin sticky with sweat, and Yunho wrapping his arm around you from behind didn't make it any better.

“It’s too hot to cuddle,” you complained, shaking your shoulders to get him to back off, but Yunho didn’t seem bothered. 

“Then let’s not cuddle,” he mumbled into your neck and you could practically feel his grin against your skin. His lips left a trail of kisses on your spine, slowly moving from your nape to your exposed back. 

"Again?,” you sighed, but you’d already closed your eyes, letting him continue his soft ministrations. It felt good, despite the heat in his attic bedroom. “I really shouldn’t let you call me up in summer."

"It was already summer when we started this arrangement, though."

"Maybe we shouldn’t have."

"Don't say that,” he nibbled on your skin, “What would I do without you?”

“You could look for someone else. And I could lay in my bed, in my room that actually has an AC.” Why he didn’t have one was beyond you, especially since you remembered his parents being well off. Then again, this tiny apartment above the surf school didn’t really reek of money either.

“Well,” Yunho shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind doing it at your place.”

“But I would mind.”

“I know,” he hummed, his arm on your waist making you turn around to him, “so you come here instead, and complain the whole time.” He pecked your lips, “But you just can’t stay away.”

“It’s convenient,” you argued with a little frown that got lost in another kiss.

“No, no, you just can’t get enough of me.”

“If that makes you feel better,” you replied, pushing him onto his back and letting him pull you along to sit on top of him.

“What really makes me feel better,” he said with a grin, his hands finding your hips to make you grind into him, “is this.”

"Perv," you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his lips as you felt him getting hard under you again. He honestly had more stamina than was good for him, or you.

"As if you're one to talk, I can literally feel how wet you are. I know you're excited too," he let his hand wander a bit from your hips, his thumb ghosting over your clit and making you shudder, "It's a good thing we didn't get dressed yet."

"If you know then stop teasing."

"No way," he grinned, his thumb flicking over your still sensitive spot again, "that's the best part."

You let out a needy whine, impatient for more. You rolled your hips in an attempt to get some friction and it drew a soft groan out of him too, but then his hands tightened around your hips, making you still.

"Come on," you complained, remembering the way he'd edged you relentlessly just half an hour ago and not too fond of the idea of being kept waiting like that again, "haven't you been mean enough to me already?"

"Aww," Yunho cooed with his stupidly pretty doe eyes looking at you, "you poor thing. All needy and impatient, hm?" He rolled you both over so he was towering above you, caging you in. "But you're just so cute like that," he continued, kissing your pout right off your lips.

“You didn’t come home last night, did you?” Hongjoong asked at the breakfast table, watching as you emptied the last swig of coffee from the can into your cup. 

“Uh, no.” You didn’t dare to look at your roommate as you added milk, “Got kinda late so I just stayed over.” You weren’t a good liar so you thought it was best to keep it vague. Hongjoong wasn’t usually that interested in your friends anyway. Except, right now his eyes were boring into the back of your head.

“Where?”

Your grip around the handle of your cup briefly tightened. “My friend’s place? I met with the girls yesterday, remember?” It still wasn’t a lie, you argued with yourself. You did meet them yesterday, it just so happened that you went to another friend’s place after. 

“Right,” Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Was it good?”

“Yeah, sure, it was …good.”

Before he could say anything else, Yeosang shuffled into the kitchen, messy bed hair falling into his face. A sense of relief washed over you, hoping for the topic to finally be dropped now that your other roommate was there. But Yeosang was all too keen on disappointing you. “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at you when he spotted you, “When did you come back? You didn’t sleep here did you?”

You wanted to kill him.

“No,” Hongjoong replied in your stead as he got up from the kitchen table and left the room, “She stayed at her friend’s.”

“What’s up with him?” Yeosang asked, his eyes following Hongjoong for another moment. Then he briefly lifted the coffee can, just to find it empty.

“Don’t ask me.”

“Hm,”  he casually stole the cup from your hands. “So you’ve been at your friend’s, huh?”

“I’m with my friends all the time,” you replied a bit too harshly, snatching back your coffee, “What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Ugh, forget about it,” you grumbled, taking another sip of your coffee, before you surrendered your cup to Yeosang and retreated to your room. You didn’t have the energy to deal with their suspicions anymore. Not, when they were very right to be suspicious.

Looking at the situation from the outside, this secretiveness might seem uncalled for. It wasn’t any of their business who you slept with anyway, and both you and Yunho were single. So, you sleeping with him shouldn’t be a big deal. But it was, because you've had a crush on Hongjoong since you’d moved in with him and Yeosang at the beginning of last semester, and there were times when you thought he felt the same, except he actually had a girlfriend. And Yunho just so happened to be his friend that he'd known since middle school and one of the last people you should be sleeping with if you wanted to hang onto that dream of Hongjoong and you. There was no way you could let either of your roommates (or any of their other friends) find out about your arrangement with Yunho. In an ideal universe, you would've never slept with him in the first place, but that ship had long sailed.

You hadn’t planned on accompanying them to the beach. You felt awkward around Hongjoong since the little interrogation and you felt even more awkward about the thought of meeting Yunho with him around. You hadn’t seen both of them at the same time since that one night at the beach a few weeks ago, when the whole thing between you and Yunho had started. Just like today, Yeosang had convinced you to tag along, saying he needed someone sane with him to survive the night. You’d ended up agreeing, especially when Hongjoong said he’d take you down to the beach in his car. But then, of course, his girlfriend had called him over and he’d left, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be your ride back. Everyone else, including Yeosang, had come by bicycle, so you were stuck. Except, Yunho had a pretty sturdy bike rack and a home that wasn’t too far from the beach. So, a few hours later, you’d found yourself on the back of his bicycle, intoxicated and depressed and clinging to the shirt of a guy you’d barely ever talked to before.

“We’re there,” Yunho said when he stopped in the tiny driveway that surely wouldn’t fit a car, waiting for you to get down first before he did the same.

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you hopped off, one of your hands still holding onto his shirt. He glanced down at it but when you showed no intention of letting go, he just let it be. You trailed behind when he leaned the bike against the house wall, and then still when he unlocked the door and led you up the narrow stairs. Your thoughts were barely there at all, even when he sat you down at a small table and finally pried your hand off his shirt to get you a glass of water. All you could think of was Hongjoong and his girlfriend and the way he’d completely forgotten all about you the second she'd called. You knew you wouldn’t have considered it a big deal if it had been anyone else, happy for them that they got to see their significant other. But it was Hongjoong. Your Hongjoong. Though, truthfully, he was actually hers.

You felt tears pricking at your eyes, the alcohol making you wear your heart on your sleeve. Yunho must have noticed your watery eyes, even in the half-light of the apartment, because he left the water on the table before kneeling down in front of you. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “It’s just—it really hurts to be left behind.”

A small, bitter smile played on his lips. “Yeah, it does.”

“But I get it though. She’s so pretty,” your lower lip wobbled as you spoke, “do you think things would be different if I was as pretty as her?”

He tilted his head to make you meet his gaze. “You are, though. You are so pretty.”

For a few seconds you just looked at him. He had big brown eyes that you’d never really noticed before, but now you thought they were kind and beautiful. His lips were beautiful too.

“Prove it then,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

There was a brief moment of hesitation, as if he was trying to figure out if he really got it right. But then he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss tasted a bit like alcohol and a bit like tears, but somehow it was still so sweet.

“What are you thinking about?” Yeosang nudged you in the side, making you snap out of your little trance.

“Nothing much,” you replied, lowering your hand that you hadn’t even noticed wandering to your lips.

“Nothing much, hm?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask further and instead offered you his beer. You took a swig, gazing into the flames of the bonfire. The smoke burned in your eyes a bit but you couldn’t really be bothered. Just like that night, Hongjoong had left early, but contrary to that night, Yunho wasn’t there. Mingi said he’d come a little later, but you weren’t sure if he really would. At least you had your own bike with you this time, so it didn’t really matter. (But why did you feel so disappointed?)

Just when you were considering telling Yeosang that you’d go home first, you spotted Yunho coming down to the beach. For a brief moment his gaze landed on you, but then Mingi patted the space next to him in the sand and he sat down with a smile. Your eyes stayed on him for another moment, watching as they talked. His cheek looked red you thought, bruised, but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. But then you noticed that his right hand was bruised too, the skin around his knuckles scraped and red. You knew what caused injuries like that, you weren’t stupid. But what you didn’t know was why Yunho would punch anyone.

“Some guys have been picking fights with him,” Yeosang mumbled, “They’re kinda holding a grudge against his dad.”

“Oh,” you let out, and you barely managed to stop yourself from asking further questions. You weren’t supposed to have anything to do with Yunho, so it’d be best not to be too nosy. “And why would you tell me that?”

Yeosang shrugged with a knowing grin. “Just had a feeling that you wanted to know.”

“Not really.”

“If you say so.” With that he got up to get himself a new drink, leaving you momentarily alone to dwell in your thoughts.

The night lightly floated along, filled with soft laughter and the smell of smoke and the ocean, but your gaze kept snapping back to Yunho and the blood on his knuckles. It didn’t fit into the picture of him that you’d painted in your head, though to be fair you’d mostly painted it in his bed, so how much did you really know? 

“I think, I’m going to leave,” Yeosang eventually told you, “are you coming too?”

Your eyes were still on Yunho and just when you wanted to tear them away, he looked over too, meeting your gaze. There was something inquiring about his expression, as if he knew exactly what you were talking about; as if he wanted you to stay.

“No,” you eventually mumbled, turning your head to Yeosang but your eyes needed a second longer to follow, “I think I’ll stay a little longer.”

Your roommate huffed a laugh, “Alright, guess you’ll be back in the morning?”

“No, I—yeah, I guess.”

“You stayed for me,” Yunho said with a smile as you dragged your bicycles along the promenade back to his place. There was no reason not to ride other than the night being warm and beautiful and the fact that it was nice to walk together.

“Not for you,” you corrected, “for me.”

“Same thing.”

It was quiet for a moment except for the sound of the waves. His right hand held onto the handlebar of his bike, his bruises in plain sight.

“What happened?” You asked and it made his gaze self-consciously flicker to his hand as well.

“It’s fine, just got held up a little.”

“By whom?”

“Just—just some guys.” Yunho seemed to be looking anywhere but you.

“Because of your dad?”

When his head snapped around to you he looked surprised, “You know about that?”

“No,” you assured, “I don’t know, not really. But you can tell me if you want.” or not, you wanted to add when it stayed silent, but then Yunho spoke up after all.

“It was a pretty big deal, to be honest. Well, at least in certain circles it was. Everyone was talking about it last year. The thought that you don't know is kinda refreshing, to be honest.”

"You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's okay."

“Do the guys know?” You asked even though you were convinced at least Yeosang and Mingi did.

“They do. I’ve known them for so long now, some of them since middle school, so of course they know. It was public knowledge anyway.” He huffed a bitter laugh.

“So, what happened?”

He shrugged. “Miscalculations, I guess. Bad deals. Loans falling through. That kinda thing.”

“Is that really bad enough to pick a fight?”

“Honestly?” he looked at you with his dark brown eyes, “Yeah. It is. When my dad’s business crashed, it took others with him. If your family goes bankrupt because of someone else’s mistake, that’s a pretty good reason to pick a fight over, isn’t it?”

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but I’m the only one who’s here.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“Abroad. My mom too. It was pretty hard to stay, you know?”

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

He shrugged. “What was I gonna do abroad? My friends are here and college is here too. And I don’t like running away anyway.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “you’re pretty cool.”

That actually made him laugh, and you liked the way it lit up his face, “Thanks, I guess.”

“Yunho?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you for telling me.”

Yunho liked to be a little mean, teasing you relentlessly with a sweet smile on his face. But tonight was soft and gentle, just like that first time. He pulled you into his lap and cradled you in his arms as if you were something precious, and you did the same for him, kissing his bruises with gentle lips in hopes it could heal them.

“You really are so pretty,” Yunho mumbled into the skin over your collar bones, and his low voice left goose bumps in its wake. His hands on your hips pulled you close, having you grind into him in slow motions. There was no teasing nor was there any of that impatient heat you usually felt. Instead, it was just warm and intimate, and it felt more like love than it should have. After all, this was just an arrangement of comfort and convenience, it wasn’t supposed to feel this close.

“I need to go,” you whispered, prying Yunho’s arm off your waist.

“Why? Just stay, it’s late.”

“No, I can’t.” you slipped out of the blankets, searching for your clothes that were scattered on the floor. 

“Why?”

You couldn’t find your panties, so you slipped into your shorts just like that. It’d make do for the way home. “Hongjoong’s been kinda suspicious about—I don’t even know, he’s just suspicious of something.” You thought you saw Yunho flinch from your peripheral vision at the mention of his friend’s name, but you couldn’t be too sure. He didn’t say anything else and just watched as you put your shirt back on.

“Text me when you get home,” he eventually mumbled when you were about to leave the room, “So I know you’re safe.”

For a second there you felt your heart skip, but then you shook it off. Convenience, you reminded yourself, comfort and convenience.

“Sure.”

Once you were gone, Yunho dropped back into his pillows, rubbing his face in frustration. He should have known better than to think you’d fallen in love with him. Of course Hongjoong was your priority, always. He knew that so well, he’d known it from the moment he’d first kissed you. But there was just something about the way he felt when you were together, that made him want to forget. At first it’d been nothing but a little crush, but the more time he’d spent with you, the more he was convinced he was actually in love with you. You made him feel like home in ways no one else did. 

“When were you back?” Hongjoong asked while he took out a bowl for some cereal. One bowl, you noted, which meant that his girlfriend hadn’t stayed over, even though they’d met up so late. It made you curious, but you didn’t know how to ask about it. You never knew how to ask about anything that had to do with her, too worried he could sense your feelings if you did.

“Around 3? Maybe?”

He nodded slowly. “That’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“San said he and Wooyoung were the last ones to leave. At 2.”

You felt caught and nervous, but at the same time you didn’t get why he was questioning you like this. It almost felt like a parent trying to uncover their teenager’s lies. “I was with a friend after.”

“You’re out late a lot these days.”

You frowned at him, but then your attention got momentarily taken by your phone screen lighting up with a message. When you unlocked it, you found a message from Yunho.

you forgot something ;)

And then there was a picture. Of your panties.

You immediately locked the phone again and laid it onto the table. With the screen down, just to be safe.

“Yeah,” you finally replied, hoping the heat in your cheeks didn’t show, “I guess I am.” And then in an attempt to lighten the mood you added with a light chuckle, “Are you my dad now? Or just jealous?”

To your surprise the question got him spluttering. “What are you saying? I have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Did Yunho get you home safely?” Mingi asked, casually putting his arm around your shoulder. You startled, having been so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed him approaching you. Your mind had been full with trying to figure out if your next class was canceled, since the room was locked and no one was waiting outside either (and maybe there were also other things occupying your brain, like a guy with sweet brown eyes—).

“Yeah, sure, he did,” you replied as you shook off Mingi's arm and turned around to him. The words were already out when you spotted Hongjoong standing behind him and looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Yunho? Didn’t you say you were with a friend?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Well, he is a friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong replied with a little frown, “mine.”

You forced out a little laugh, your eyes briefly darting over to Mingi who watched the situation in helpless confusion. “Are you suddenly gatekeeping your friends now?” 

“No, but—why didn’t you tell me you were with him?”

“I don’t know,” you didn’t meet his gaze, “maybe I knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“Isn’t it weirder that you were keeping it a secret? Are you dating him or something?”

“No!” you replied, maybe a little bit too quickly.

“We just walked a bit,” Yunho interrupted, seemingly having overhead you. His voice was calm and he acted as if he just casually joined the conversation, but you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw. “The weather was nice and we got lost in conversation, so it just took us a little longer to get home. There’s nothing more to it.”

You knew he was saying this for you, and you knew you had just claimed the exact same thing, but somehow it still hurt. Maybe you didn’t want there to be nothing. 

“So, anyway,” Mingi broke the tension, “who’s joining for lunch?”

You thought you should probably end the arrangement with Yunho. The constant lying made you feel anxious and it put a strain on your friendship with Hongjoong. It was never supposed to become such a big thing anyway. But when Yunho sent you a text, asking if you were coming to his place after class, you found yourself inclined to say yes. Maybe he’d been right, maybe you really couldn’t get enough of him.

So, you went to meet him at the gate after classes, lost in daydreams as you waited.

“Y/n,” Hongjoong’s voice suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, “are you done for today too? I can give you a ride.” He nodded over to his car waiting in the parking lot. 

“Uh, I—,” you started, trying to come up with a plausible excuse.

“She actually has business with me,” Yunho interrupted, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders from behind.

“Business?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, “What kinda business could you have?”

Yunho smiled sweetly. “She forgot something the other day. Right?”

You felt your cheeks flush with heat, reminded of the picture of your underwear that he’d sent you. “R-right.”

“So, let’s go?” Yunho asked, already walking on ahead to where he’d parked his bike. You stood there for a moment longer, your eyes flickering between him and Hongjoong.

“I’ll see you at home?” you finally pressed out, making it sound more like a question, before you jogged over to catch up with Yunho.

“Yeah, sure.” 

As soon as you reached him, you boxed him in the shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?!” you hissed. 

“Making him jealous?”

“Are you sure it’s not you who’s jealous? He has a girlfriend.”

“And yet he’s still looking this way,” Yunho said with a shrug, so convinced to be right that he didn’t even bother turning around to check. You did, though, and sure enough Hongjoong was still standing right there, following you with his eyes. When you met his gaze, he lifted his hand in an awkward wave and then turned to leave. You thought you should be happy, but somehow, you weren’t.

Are you sure it’s not you who’s jealous? Yunho almost wanted to laugh. If only you knew how right you were about that. It was pathetic, really, acting all possessive under the guise that he was helping you out, when really he just wanted you to himself. There’d been something like worry washing over him when he’d seen you speaking with Hongjoong. Of course you were right, he had a girlfriend, but Yunho saw the way Hongjoong was looking at you and he wasn’t oblivious to the way he’d been looking at him either ever since you’d started spending time with him. It seemed like a matter of time until Hongjoong would do something about it, about you, and Yunho didn’t think he’d stand a chance if it came down to it. No matter how much time you spent in his bed, having your body wasn’t the same as having your heart. He wished he could have both.

Yunho kissed you the second you were back in his apartment, big hands pulling your hips flush against his while his lips devoured yours. 

“Not even offering a drink beforehand, huh?” You said with a chuckle when you briefly separated.

He raised an eyebrow, returning your grin. “Did you want anything? Coffee? Water? Tea?”

“No, no, don’t mind me,” you mumbled, already reattaching your lips to him, “this is fine actually.”

You felt him smile into the kiss and then his hands wandered further down, just below your butt, and then he was suddenly picking you up, your legs almost automatically wrapping around his torso.

“What are you doing?” you giggled, not actually trying to get down.

“Delivery,” he replied with a shrug and carried you to his bedroom where he let you flop onto the mattress like a potato sack and then followed behind, hovering over you. In an instant you were back to kissing, while your impatient hands tugged on your clothes, discarding them somewhere just to get them out of the way. He kissed down your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth.

“No, don’t,” you breathed, your voice not very convincing with how airy it was, “the guys will see.”

“Mhm,” he hummed into your skin. “That’s true.” He moved down until he was positioned between your legs, hiking one of it over his shoulder before he lightly nibbled on the skin of your inner thigh. “But here is fine, right? If it’s here no one will see. No one but me.”

He bit down a little harder, making you whine in response. “Yeah, there's fine,” you gasped out, quickly losing your composure when he brought up one of his hands to your most sensitive parts while his lips kept sucking kisses into your skin. “There’s good.”

Yunho’s thumb found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles that drove you insane, not enough friction to make you come but too much to leave you indifferent. “Please,” you mumbled under your breath, not even sure what exactly you were asking for.

“Please?” Yunho repeated, momentarily halting his movements, "Please stop?" You immediately let out a whine, making him chuckle.

“No, no, please,” you shook your head, “more.”

“More, hm?” There was a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Like this?” Without further warning he attached his lips to your core, licking and sucking on your sensitive folds while his thumb picked up the pace on your clit. All you could do was buck your hips and cling to the bed sheets as he devoured you, that familiar knot building up in your guts all too quickly. He let you have it, your high washing over you like a wave as he kept eating you out, only stopping when your hands started to physically push him away, unable to take the overstimulation.

“Didn’t you say you wanted more?” He asked when he finally let up, “I’m just trying to grant your wishes.” He kept eye contact as he poked out his tongue, slowly drawing closer to your core again. It almost had the energy of a cat pushing a vase off the table, his movement so, so slow while his innocent gaze was fixed on you.

“No, no,” you whimpered, hands still buried in his hair, “I can’t. Too much.”

“No?” Yunho repeated and it almost looked like he was pouting. He stilled though, not drawing any closer until you gave the go. His face was still close enough to your core for his breath to send shivers through your body, and you involuntarily bucked your hips in search of friction.

“Heh,” he grinned mischievously, “I thought it’s too much?”

“No, I don’t know,” you bucked your hips again, unable to choose between feeling too sensitive and wanting more.

“You don’t know? But I can’t decide for you.” There were those doe eyes again and it was so clearly what he wanted you to say and he thought you would say, but he still needed the words to be put out there.

“Okay,” you pressed out.

“Okay?”

Your face was burning hot with embarrassment. “More.”

You thought you should probably take a shower, your skin once again sweaty as you laid in Yunho’s bed a little later, but you couldn’t be bothered to move. You felt exhausted and tired and it was comfortable to lay next to him, your head resting on his outstretched arm, despite the heat. Yunho’s hand lazily plaid with your hair, his eyes fixed to the ceiling. You watched his profile, his full lashes and warm eyes and soft lips. Eventually he turned his head, slowly, to look at you. 

“You’re staring,” he whispered.

“Sorry.”

“No. I don’t mind.”

You hummed, neither of you looking away.  

“Are you going to leave?” He asked after a while. It was night already and you knew it was high time to go home. But if you were being honest you didn’t want to. It felt too embarrassing to put it out there, though. “Should I?” you mumbled instead.

He smiled. “If you’re asking me if you can stay, you can.”

You averted your gaze. “I’ll stay then.”

Yunho pulled you a little closer, pressing a brief kiss to the crown of your head. “Okay.”

“You wanted to talk?” Yunho asked, as he plopped down in the sand next to Hongjoong.

“Yeah,” he nodded, staring out at the water instead of meeting Yunho’s gaze. “I’ve broken up with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It was high time. We both weren’t happy. And there’s also—” he didn’t finish his sentence, but Yunho knew what he was going to say without putting it out there. You.

“So why are you telling me?”

“I know there’s something going on between the two of you. I’m not going to ask for details and I doubt you would tell me anyway. But just answer me this: Are you dating y/n?”

Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, because it would stop Hongjoong from making a move. Yes, because he wanted it to be true. But it wasn’t.

“No.”

“Have you seen my phone?” You asked a few days later, scurrying through the flat, confused about where you’d left it and in a hurry to get to morning classes. 

“No,” Hongjoong shook his head, watching from the kitchen door frame as you patted down the pockets of your jackets hanging on the coat hooks in the hallway.

“Weird,” you mumbled, “I thought I still had it when I—right, breakfast,” you pushed past him into the kitchen. Your phone laid in plain sight on the table. You turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t seen it, huh?”

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t pay attention.” He bites his lower lip, but you barely paid attention, distracted by the missed call from Yeosang, just a few minutes ago. He didn’t usually call you, after all you were living together, what reason was there to call? Maybe he forgot something at home that he needed for classes?

“Actually—Can we talk?” Hongjoong asked. It sounded reluctant, and maybe if you’d looked up from your phone you would have seen the way chewed on his lower lip, the way it seemed to cost him courage to speak up. You didn’t look up though, your eyes still fixed on your phone screen when you said “Sure.”

There was a small pause, before he continued, “We broke up.”

You clicked on your phone’s call history. There was Yeosang, of course, but then there was another one, right below, an hour ago: a declined call from Yunho. A weird feeling settled in your guts, because Yunho too never called, especially not that early in the morning. And because you knew you didn’t decline that call yourself.

“Are you listening?” Hongjoong asked and you finally looked up at him then. He looked different, unfamiliar.

Your phone vibrated with a text from Yeosang.

yunho got beaten up

i thought you should know

You felt panic rise in your guts until it was crushing your rib cage and clogging up your throat. “I need to leave,” you pressed out, rushing to leave but Hongjoong held onto your wrist.

“It’s Yunho isn’t it?” 

“Yes.”

“I knew it,” he let out a bitter huff, “There’s something between you, isn’t there? Are you in love with him?”

You didn’t bother arguing; there was no time for that and maybe you didn’t think he was wrong. With your free hand you grabbed his, pulling it away from your wrist. “I have to go. Now.” He didn’t try to hold on, nor did he say anything else when you slipped in your shoes and rushed out of the flat.

You called Yeosang on your way down the stairs, not bothering with greetings when he picked up.

“Where is he? Is he okay?”

“He’s home,” Yeosang replied and the calmness of his voice made you feel a little more at ease. “He’s mostly okay. I left the backdoor open.”

“What about the guys who did it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s being settled for good.”

You didn’t know exactly what it meant, but you decided that was something to think about later. For now all that mattered was that Yunho was safe.

Yeosang had left a while ago after helping him tend to his bruises, even though Yunho had assured him he was fine by himself. Yunho knew he’d also called up Mingi to settle things once and for all. He’d never wanted the guys to be involved, convinced he could somehow solve this by himself and feeling too guilty about making this their problem too. But he also knew it was time to admit that it was pure luck that he hadn’t been hurt any worse until now. Last night too it could have ended really badly, but then there’d been police sirens in the distance and they’d rushed off. Yunho had dragged himself home as best as he could in the early morning hours, collapsing on his doorstep with his head feeling fuzzy and every joint in his body hurting. With shaky hands he pulled out his phone, barely able to recognize the names on screen through his blurry vision, but he still managed to find your contact. The call didn’t go through. Of course not, Yunho thought to himself. Because it was early in the morning and because surely Hongjoong had already confessed to you and you had better things to do now than to deal with your fuck buddy and his problems. It was silly of him to call you in the first place. You weren’t dating. But he felt lonely and in pain and all he could think was that he wanted to see you and hear you say that things were going to be okay. But you weren’t going to come, so he called Yeosang instead.

You didn’t bother trying to ring the doorbell and instead rushed straight to the back door. You found him sitting on the bathroom floor, battered and bleeding and yet still better off than you’d feared. He visibly flinched when you pushed the door open, but then he saw it was you and the tension in his shoulders dropped.

“Y/n,” his voice sounded hoarse.

You knelt down in front of him, carefully cupping his jaw. His cheekbone was bruised badly and his lower lip was bleeding, but he was looking at you with his brown doe eyes and you knew he was okay. He lifted his bandaged hands to wrap them around yours, and you noticed that they were shaking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up,” you whispered. “But I’m here now. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why did you?”

You frowned, “Because you’re hurt.”

“But you—you don’t have to do this out of pity.”

“It’s not pity, silly.” You leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes. “Don’t you know that?”

“No,” he whispered, “I don’t know. So tell me.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you.” You brushed your lips against his, causing him to wince in pain, but when you pulled away he chased your lips, pulling you into a kiss. It tasted a bit like iron, but it also tasted like summer and comfort and love.

no ateez masterlist (yet) but you can check out my other writing here or leave a follow if you don't want to miss future fics

pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed this~

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety: "The Ring"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Matt takes Foggy with him to finally buy an engagement ring for you.

Or You continually almost stumble onto Matt's hiding places for the ring in the apartment.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: One of the updates y'all have been waiting for! It's mostly in Matt's POV but that alternates near the end. Also, this installment means the proposal is now fair game to appear at ANY TIME. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, how am I at NINETY of these now??

Tag List: @ninacottee @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @mascamp02 @1988-fiend @linmarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment

Monday

“Alright, Matt,” Foggy said with a sigh.

Matt heard the way Foggy stepped inside his office and leant up against the doorframe before loosening his tie. The sound of fabric fibers rubbing against each other was sharp and loud as it met Matt’s ears. His head rose up from his work, his fingers pausing on the braille before him as he focused on Foggy in the doorway, sending him a tight smile.

“What is this super secret thing you wanted to do with me after work today that absolutely could not wait for another day?” Foggy asked.

Matt's brows drew together as he reached over, his fingers pushing up the sleeve of his shirtt as he felt for the time on his watch. “It’s already five?” he asked, double-checking for himself.

“Yup, buddy,” Foggy answered, running a hand through his hair. “The day dragged on, but alas, it is finally over. Or, at least, the work day is. Though my day is not, since, you know, you practically begged me to assist you this evening with something that you would tell me nothing about."

Internally Matt disagreed with the sentiment about the day dragging on as he began to gather up the papers scattered along his desk. For him, it felt like the day had flown by. He'd been trying to focus on his work all day today, but truthfully all he could think about was finding the perfect engagement ring later once he'd finished at the office. He had absolutely no clue what the first thing was when it came to picking an engagement ring. 

And if Matt was being honest, this was the first time in a long time that he found himself feeling self-conscious about being blind. Because it wasn't like he could see all the different styles and options of rings to find the one he wanted–the perfect one that you'd hopefully wear on your finger for years to come. The one that felt like it fit you . The one you'd say yes to. Admittedly it pained him to ask for help with something so personal and intimate, even if Foggy was like a brother to him. He desperately wished this was something he could do on his own. 

"So are you going to tell me what we're doing?" Foggy questioned again. "Is it something to do with Daredevil? Because I'll be honest, buddy, I'm not so sure I want to get involved in anything illegal. I'd like to retain my ability to practice law after all the hard work I put into getting that degree."

Matt laughed lightly, sliding his chair back from his desk. "It's nothing illegal. And it's nothing to do with…that aspect of my life."

"Okay, so then why the cloak and dagger?" Foggy pressed. "If it's not about Daredevil then I don't get what's with–"

Matt's head tilted to the side, his dark brows pinching together the moment he heard Foggy suck in a sharp breath. He abruptly crossed the room, planting both of his hands firmly on Matt's desk.

"Matthew Michael Murdock are you doing what I think you're doing?" Foggy asked, his question hushed and fast.

"I suppose that depends on what you think I'm doing," Matt countered slowly, rising to his feet.

"Are you–" Foggy leaned in closer to him, "– proposing ?"

A grin drew itself onto Matt’s face, one that he couldn’t possibly fight back. Not as the memory of you calling him family from the other day flashed through his mind.

"Well, I need a ring first," he answered.

Foggy’s right hand curled into a fist before he pumped it up and into the air so abruptly that it took Matt by surprise. The loud whoop he emitted next had managed to last a duration of two seconds before Matt had thrown his hand forward, waving it frantically at Foggy and quickly trying to calm him down as panic shot through him.

"Fog, relax," Matt said in a hushed tone, already hearing the clicking of Karen's heels heading towards his office. "I'd like to keep this between us for now so it can remain a surprise."

"Sorry, you just don't know how excited I am right now," Foggy replied in an excited rush. "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this moment, man. I just–"

"What're you so excited about that you're shouting in here without me?" Karen asked, cutting Foggy off. “What moment have you been waiting for?”

Matt could hear the hard swallow from Foggy, noticing the way his friend’s palms had begun to sweat. He was nervous. Which meant Matt probably needed to come up with a fast lie to get Karen off this topic as quick as possible, especially because he was certain that subtle shift in the air was from her gaze curiously dancing back and forth between the pair of them.

“For that new bakery opening up near his apartment,” Matt said, straightening his tie. “He’s been talking about it all week.”

Karen’s eyes narrowed, her head tilting to the side. “He has?” she asked.

Foggy let out a nervous laugh, the sound of which had Matt struggling not to wince. If he kept it up, she’d figure out what was going on in no time. Karen was far too smart and perceptive.

“Suppose it was only to me then,” Matt replied, cutting Fog off before he could speak. “Consider yourself lucky. If I have to hear about bear claws again I might stuff tissues in my ears.”

“Mmm,” Karen hummed out. “Well, I suppose I’m heading home for the night. Unless either of you need anything?”

“No, Karen, we’re just about to head out, too,” Matt said quickly, shooting her a wide smile. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

“Right,” she replied slowly, dragging the word out. 

There was a brief pause before she said goodbye, and then both Matt and Foggy remained absolutely silent until they’d heard the main office door shut and her heels clicking down the hallway. Foggy exhaled an audible breath, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

“Sorry, Matt,” he apologized. “I forgot she was even here for a moment. It's just–you're going to ask your girl to marry you! This is fantastic news!"

“It’s alright,” Matt assured him with a grin. “But can we just keep this between the pair of us? I’m not sure exactly when I’m proposing, but I’d like it to be a surprise for her. So I’d prefer Karen and Marci not finding out ahead of time–especially Marci. We both know she can’t keep a secret.”

Foggy laughed lightly, shaking his head. “No, that she absolutely cannot do,” he agreed. “So do you know where you want to go to look, or–”

“I know exactly where I want to go,” Matt replied, cutting Foggy off as he made his way around his desk. “I just don’t know exactly what to get.”

“Well you’re in luck, buddy,” Foggy told him. “Because I’ve done this before and it resulted in a positive outcome, so I’d like to think that makes me an expert when it comes to engagement ring shopping.”

Matt chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m counting on it, Foggy.”

Matt’s fingers ran over the ring in his hand, his lips pursed as he tried to focus on the feel of it. Bringing Foggy with shopping for an engagement ring had proved helpful, he had to admit, but the final decision ultimately came down to him. And picking out a ring hadn’t been easy so far, either. 

Currently he had narrowed his choices down to two, but he was torn between them. One was a yellow gold ring with a solitaire pear-shaped diamond, and the other was a white gold ring with a round solitaire diamond surrounded by a series of smaller ones–apparently called a ‘halo.’ He’d eventually concluded that the ring styles with multitudes of diamonds just didn’t suit you. Because you were not flashy and loud, but rather delicate and understated yourself. He figured he wanted a ring that reflected that, one you’d feel comfortable wearing.

But he was also torn between something he thought you’d like–because the woman helping him had assured Matt that solitaire pear-shaped diamond engagement rings were definitely in right now–or something he thought reflected the relationship you both had. The round solitaire with the halo of diamonds was the one he’d been leaning towards; as tacky as it sounded, the circular shape of the diamond did signify that there was no beginning or end to his love for you, plus it was classic and timeless. And the idea of a halo suited you, after all.

His thumb ran over the pear-shaped diamond again, the tip of it pricking the pad of his finger each time. A frown settled on Matt’s lips.

“What is it?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning in towards him. “You look deep in thought.”

“This one just doesn’t feel right,” Matt murmured, the tip of the diamond sharply catching on his finger again. “In more way than one.”

“Then it’s not the one,” Foggy said simply, plucking it out of Matt’s fingers. "What about the other one? What's that one making you feel?"

Foggy placed the round cut ring into Matt's upturned palm. He could feel the weight of the woman's eyes on him from behind the counter, clearly hoping for a sale. He tried to ignore it as he ran his fingers over the shape of it. Nothing caught his skin uncomfortably as he did, not like the other ring. 

For a moment he stood there, feeling the ring in his hand. He imagined it on your finger as he held your hand–the pair of you out at dinner, sitting on the couch together, or after he'd come home from his night out as Daredevil. He imagined running his thumb along it as he called you his fiancé, hearing the way the muscles would shift in your face as you smiled. Gradually a small smile slid onto his lips at the thought, his thumb running over the diamonds again as he imagined feeling it on your finger with a second band, finally being able to call you his wife. 

"It feels like it's for her," he whispered to Foggy. "This is the one. This is her ring."

"Yes!" Foggy exclaimed, clapping Matt excitedly on the back. "I think I'm shaking in excitement over here, man! I can't believe this is finally happening!"

Matt's smiling face focused back down on the ring in his hand. "I can," he told him. "Because it was always going to be her for me. Knew it from the moment she first stumbled into Josie's."

"Now you just need to propose," Foggy told him, patting him on the back again.

Nerves swirled in Matt’s stomach at the thought of finally asking you that life altering question. He'd had an idea planned for that moment for quite a long time now and he only hoped you liked it when he did finally ask.

"I just hope she says yes," Matt whispered. 

"Of course she will," Foggy said, nudging him with his elbow. "Don't overthink it. She’s crazy in love with you, too. Anyone can see it just by looking at her face, Matt."

Tuesday

You awkwardly unlocked the apartment door while trying not to spill the contents of the takeout bag in your hands. Tonight had been a late night at the office for you, having been busy working on meeting a deadline for Ellison before you left. You'd called Matt at his office earlier, telling him that you'd be the one running late tonight and that you'd grab dinner from the Thai restaurant around the corner before you came home so that he didn’t have to worry about cooking.

Opening the door and stepping inside, you were surprised to be met with silence. Confusion washing over you, you wondered if maybe something had happened in Hell’s Kitchen and Matt had gone out early. As you took your shoes off, placing them under the bench and out of the way so no one would trip on them, you noticed the doors to the closet where Matt kept the trunk of his father's things and his Daredevil suit was partially ajar. 

Brows knitting together, you made your way down the entryway hall towards it. If Matt had gone out, he'd have fully shut the doors after getting dressed. It seemed odd he'd have been in that much of a hurry to forget that.

Though when you neared the closet, you spotted one of his red gloves lying on the floor just behind one of the chairs. Frowning, you stepped over towards it and bent down to pick it up–which was when you finally found Matt.

Dressed in a black-tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his large body was curled up on the leather couch under the plush blanket you'd replaced his plaid one with. He was fast asleep, looking absolutely peaceful, but your heart nearly melted when you spotted Mittens' dark gray body curled into a tight ball against Matt’s chest. Nestled in between Matt's muscular arms, the cat looked even smaller than usual.

A smile gradually made its way onto your lips as you watched the pair of them for a moment. They both looked comfortable and content sleeping as they cuddled up together. Despite Matt’s attempts to tell you he wasn't a cat person–or a pet person of any sort–you'd noticed how often he was usually talking to or playing with the cat. Often when he passed by Mittens laying in his cat tree that you’d recently gotten him, Matt would always stop to pet him. It was such a common occurrence that even Mittens expected it, usually raising his head and softly mewing at Matt whenever he neared.

Glancing down at the glove in your hand, you figured Mittens must have gotten into Matt’s trunk while he was asleep. You knew some nights Matt came home exhausted and didn't fully shut and lock the trunk after himself. Mittens must have opened the closet with his little paws and somehow pushed the lid open. Though how the cat had somehow managed to pull his glove out from under that false bottom was an absolute mystery to you. 

Quietly you crossed the living room, making your way over towards the kitchen table to set down the bag of takeout. When you turned, intending to put away Matt's glove, you spotted him groggily sitting up awake on the couch.

"Hey, Matty," you said, making your way back across the living room. "I just got home. I grabbed dinner–it's on the table. I'm just picking up quick if you want to get started on dinner."

"Picking up?" he asked drowsily. “Picking up what?”

His head was tracking your movements across the apartment, his expression switching from drowsy to alert suddenly.

"Yeah, it looks like Mittens got into your trunk again," you told him. "Pulled out a glove. I was just going to–"

"I got it," he said in a rush. 

You hadn't even had a chance to open your mouth to respond before Matt was at your side, removing the glove from your hand. He sent you a tense smile before he gestured his head towards the kitchen.

"You had a long day," he continued. "Why don't you go start on dinner? I can put this away."

You stood there confused, blinking at him and his odd behavior for a moment. After a few seconds, when he urged you a second time to go get some food, you finally nodded and turned. Heading back towards the kitchen to get everything plated for dinner, you briefly wondered what that had been about.

Wednesday 

"Uncle Matt! Uncle Matt!"

The sound of his name ringing out so enthusiastically in the apartment by your now almost four year old nephew easily put the biggest smile onto Matt’s face. He'd barely managed to exit the entryway hall after taking his shoes off before he heard Hudson racing across the apartment. The boy nearly knocked him over when he threw his arms around Matt’s leg, clinging to him in an excited hug.

"Hey, Huds," Matt said with a warm chuckle. "Your aunt told me you might still be here when I got home and I was hoping she was right. I missed you, buddy."

Matt reached his hand down, affectionately ruffling the boy's hair. Hudson giggled, releasing Matt’s leg only long enough to grab onto his hand instead. Matt could hear the way your smile grew from your place on the couch in the living room, watching as Hudson began to drag him into the room further. His heart swelled–he loved you and your family, even if he could still feel Amber occasionally giving him the side-eye when she was around.

“Huds, why don’t we let Matt have a minute to relax?” you suggested. “He just got in the door from work, bud. He might want to get changed.”

Hudson didn’t remotely let up his hold at your suggestion, continuing to drag Matt around the couch. His little hand had a surprisingly strong grip for a toddler. 

Matt shook his head at you, the smile still spread wide over his face. “That’s alright, sweetheart,” he assured you. ���I don’t mind at all.”

“I finally got to meet Mittens, Uncle Matt!” Hudson exclaimed, finally dragging Matt to a stop beside the coffee table–though he didn’t relinquish his hold on Matt’s hand. “Hes so soft and cute! And he really liked my dinosaurs!”

“He did?” Matt asked curiously, head tilting to the side.

“Yeah!” Hudson replied. “Momma got me some new ones. Mittens was running around playing with them. It was silly, wasn’t it, auntie?”

Matt heard the way you pushed yourself up from the couch, his attention curiously shifting towards you.

“Yeah, he definitely was having a blast with them,” you agreed, lowering down to your knees before the couch. “And I think he might’ve knocked a couple under here, actually. Ahh, yeah, here they are.”

“There was another one over there,” Hudson said.

Matt’s heart sped up in his chest when he noticed Hudson was pointing near the other side of the apartment. A sharp spike of adrenaline shot through him because he’d moved your engagement ring from the trunk with his suit to behind the radiator after you almost found it last night when he’d been napping on the couch.

“Where’d it go again?” you asked. “Behind the radiator?”

Matt heard the way the air shifted as Hudson nodded his head. The moment he heard you making your way over there he panicked. If you looked back there you’d surely see the ring box he’d tried to hide and he didn’t want to propose to you right here and now, not like this. He had something more planned for that.

“You know what?” Matt said quickly, shooting you a nervous smile as he began walking swiftly towards the radiator. “I can grab it. Don’t worry about it.”

He heard the way you paused, one of your brows raising onto your forehead. He could practically hear you thinking about how weird he was being right now. 

“You’ve had a tough week at the office,” Matt continued, turning and heading over towards the radiator while you were still hesitating. “Just enjoy the time with Hudson.”

“I mean it’s…not that hard to grab something from behind there, Matt,” you said slowly.

His mouth went dry when he heard the strange tone to your voice. Like you thought he was acting off. 

Because admittedly he was.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed.

He shot you a smile over his shoulder as he bent down, sticking his hand behind the radiator. Your eyes were watching him so carefully that he could feel your stare as his fingers brushed over the velvet box. Still smiling at you, he deftly managed to grab both the box and the little dinosaur, pocketing the box discreetly into his suit pocket as he held up the dinosaur in his other hand.

“Found it!” he called out, palms sweating.

Thursday  

Stacking your clean bras in the top drawer of the dresser, you overheard the apartment door opening and closing. You smiled to yourself as you made your way back to the bed, grabbing a stack of your clean socks next. You’d loved living with Matt, adjusting a little faster than you’d anticipated despite some of the small mishaps the pair of you had had over the past couple weeks. 

Glancing up as you headed back to your dresser drawer, you caught sight of Mittens. He’d followed you into the bedroom a bit ago when you’d brought in the load of clean laundry and began to sort through it. He’d long since fallen asleep in his little hammock by the window when you’d started folding the laundry, but the sound of Matt shuffling through the living room had caused him to stir awake. His green eyes were blinking tired and slow, focused on the bedroom door as if he expected Matt to step through.

And sure enough, as you were closing the drawer of the dresser, you felt a pair of hands slip around your waist. The smile on your mouth only grew wider when he leaned over your shoulder, planting a kiss to your cheek.

“Missed you today, sweetheart,” Matt murmured.

“I missed you, too,” you said, turning in his arms. “But we did talk on the phone through part of lunch today, if you remember.”

He hummed in response, nodding his head. “Ahh yes, how could I forget? Katy had some very detailed things to tell you about her date the other night even though she knew you were on the phone with me.”

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh. “She has no shame, that one.”

“Mmm, no, but I’m glad she’s fixated on someone else’s cake for now,” Matt said.

“Ahh yes,” you replied, making your way back towards the bed when Matt released you from his hold. “I’ve heard her talk about that a little too much today, actually. Though she did still say yours is superior, so do not fret, Matt.”

You giggled at the sound of Matt’s groan as you picked up his stack of boxers. Turning, you made your way back towards the dresser, though you noticed the way Matt tensed. Before you could even reach out and open the drawer, Matt had tossed an arm out in front of you, blocking you from the dresser. Taken by surprise, you stopped abruptly and pulled a face.

“What’re you doing?” you asked him.

“I should ask you that as well,” Matt quickly shot back.

You glanced down at the stack of freshly laundered black boxers in your hands. Slowly your attention shifted back up to Matt. One of your brows rose up onto your forehead, your eyes narrowing suspiciously at him.

“Putting away your clean laundry,” you replied. “Obviously.”

Matt’s hands flew forward, taking you yet again by surprise when he grabbed the stack from your hands. The smile on his face looked forced, which only had your eyes narrowing further.

“How about I finish putting away my laundry and you can start the oven?” he asked. “I’ll finish taking care of dinner once I get changed.”

Your eyes gradually slid down towards the dresser, noticing how Matt was now blocking it more fully with his body. Which was…odd.

“Is there something in there you don’t want me to see?” you asked him curiously. “Because I–”

“No!” Matt replied quickly, his smile growing even wider as he shook his head. “No, not at all,” he added, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I just want you to–”

“Relax?” you cut in. “Yeah, you’ve been saying that all week. It’s getting kind of weird, actually.”

“Well you’ve just been so stressed at the Bulletin and dealing with me home most of the week,” Matt told you. “I figured since I’m here I can try to give you some breaks, right? So why don’t you start the oven and relax your pretty little self on the couch with one of your shows, sweetheart. Let me finish this.”

For a moment you stood there, eyeing Matt suspiciously. He was up to something, that much was obvious. But what remained a mystery to you. 

Figuring it had something to do with Daredevil, you sighed and nodded before heading out of the bedroom.

Sunday  

Matt could hear the tension in Foggy’s muscles as he slid the living room window open. From his place on the fire escape, Matt could still hear Marci in their bathroom presumably washing the makeup off of her face.

"What the hell are you doing here, Matt?" Foggy hissed through the opening. "You know you can stop by dressed in normal clothes using the front door, right? Not popping up on the fire escape dressed like that ." 

Foggy dramatically waved his hand, gesturing at Matt’s Daredevil suit. Matt sighed before holding up the box in his hand, hearing the way Foggy gasped the moment he noticed it.

"Wait, are you proposing to her?" Foggy asked in shock. "Oh buddy, please tell me you're not doing it in the suit. Because as much as I'm sure you think she might enjoy it, I don't think she'd actually want you–"

"Fog, stop," Matt said, waving his hand at him. "Of course I'm not proposing to her in the suit. I'm not proposing tonight, I just came to ask you a huge favor."

He heard the way Foggy’s eyes narrowed, his head tilting curiously to the side. In the other room, Marci was still thankfully washing her face.

"What sort of favor are we talking about?" he asked slowly.

"Can you keep this here?" Matt practically begged, holding the box with the ring in it higher. "Preferably somewhere Marci can't find it and spoil the surprise? Because I have been going insane this week, Fog. Every time I hide it somewhere I think she'd never go–the radiator, next to my suit in the trunk, my damn shoes–she keeps almost finding it. And Fog, buddy, I can't take the anxiety anymore. I swear she must already think something is going on."

"Okay, yeah, sure," Foggy replied, accepting the box Matt practically shoved at him. "I can keep it safe here until you need it."

"Oh thank God," Matt said with a relieved sigh. "You have no idea how grateful I am. I owe you one."

"Think you owe me more than one, Matt," Foggy countered.

Matt sent Foggy a sheepish smile. He was about to respond when he heard the faucet turn off in the bathroom. 

"Marci is about done, I got to go," Matt said in a rush. "Hide that somewhere good, please. But…don't forget where, either."

As Matt turned and hopped over the fire escape railing, he caught Foggy’s promise to safeguard his ring, considering it his first duty as Best Man. The comment had Matt grinning as he continued to make his way down the side of the building.

[captainsophiestark]

Office Most-Eligible

Daniel Sousa x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 20 Prompt: "This better be good."

Summary: When Jack ropes Daniel into eavesdropping on the telephone ladies' breakroom, they both might hear a lot more than they'd bargained for.

Word Count: 2,387

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Daniel's POV

I sighed as I shuffled the papers in my hands, mentally running through the million things I had to do today. Peggy, Jack, and I had managed to stop Leviathan from leveling New York City and destroying Howard Stark, but that didn't mean the last six months since then had been any more relaxed. If anything, it had gotten busier than ever before.

There had even been talk of opening another branch of the agency in LA, which was a whole other insane possibility fluttering around in my mind. It was enough to distract me to the point that I didn't notice Thompson, half-hidden by the entryway to the agency, until I ran into him.

"Thompson? What the hell are you-?"

"Sh!"

He raised his finger to his lips and glared at me. I glared back.

"Why are you-"

"Sousa! Shut up and listen," he hissed, jerking his head towards a grate in the wall. I frowned and made a demanding "what?" gesture, but he just nodded towards the grate again. I sighed, so long-suffering it wasn't even funny, but shuffled closer.

"This better be good," I grumbled. Jack just waved his hand at me.

Through the grate, I could hear voices talking and giggling loudly. It sounded like all the ladies who sat outside the entrance to the agency, guarding the door and keeping up the front that this was a phone company, talking together like they were in the break room. I paused, curious enough to entertain Thompson's nonsense for another ten seconds.

"-saying is, there's a definite ranking of all the guys in this office. And yours ain't it."

The girls dissolved into another fit of giggles, and I scowled. I grabbed Thompson's arm and yanked him away from the grate, out of earshot.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, keeping my voice low just in case. "You're eavesdropping on coworkers in their breakroom? Instead of working? You're the Chief!"

"I don't know if you caught it, Sousa, but they're talking about us. Specifically which one of us they'd most want to date. I'd call that research and intelligence work for future opportunities."

Jack gave me a smirk as he drifted back towards the vent. I scowled and followed to drag him away and make him do his damned job, but froze when I heard the ladies welcoming our newest addition to the agency, the second female agent in SSR history. She'd been here a little over five months, had become instant best friends with Peggy Carter, and had me head over heels within a week of knowing her.

And apparently she'd just walked into the breakroom.

Jack gave me a knowing smirk and raised an eyebrow, and I glared right back. But I couldn't quite manage to drag myself away either, no matter how much my brain told me I should.

****************

Y/N's POV

"You came at the perfect time!"

I pulled a snack out of the fridge and looked suspiciously at Mary, one of the switch operators who worked outside the SSR. In the short time I'd been here, I'd gotten to know her and Rose pretty well, since they mostly alternated shifts for our main door guard. Rose and I had quickly bonded over our mutual feminism and desire for independence; Mary and I had bonded through being troublemakers, and I had a feeling I was about to see some more of that.

"Why?" I asked, drifting halfway to the door now that I had secured my snack. Mary smiled.

"We were just talking about the boys in the office. We have a few different opinions about who would make the best boyfriends and husbands, and since you know them all so well... I mean, I can't think of anyone else with a better reason to chime in."

I scoffed. "Nice try Mary, but no way am I engaging in this conversation. See you all later!"

The rest of the women in the room booed playfully, but I didn't turn around as I reached the door. Mary, however, knew me well enough to figure out how to stop me in my tracks.

"Well, I guess that means Jack Thompson is the definitive winner!"

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the door in front of me, hand on the half-turned doorknob. I'd come so close to avoiding this nonsense, and it still wasn't too late for me to take the exit. I scowled and scrunched my nose, then turned around to squint at all my coworkers looking back at me.

"Be completely honest, I'll be able to tell if you're lying," I started, still only half-turned away from the door. "How many of you would put Jack Thompson at the top of your 'SSR's Most Eligible Bachelor' list?"

A few hands shot into the air, followed by a few more tentative hands that must've heard the disgust in my tone. All in all, about half the room had their hands up for him. I sighed, long and heavy.

"And the other runners up were...?"

A few people called out names of other men in the office, most of whom were barely better (or definitely worse) than Jack. I looked up at the ceiling and shook my head.

"You all have terrible taste in men."

Half the room, Mary included, started laughing, and the other half looked offended. I shook my head and turned to leave again, but Mary stopped me again before I could go.

"Who would you choose then, if not Thompson? You can't criticize our taste without giving us some insight into your process."

Her grin stretched across her entire face as she stared at me, waiting for me to take the bait. Her hand had been the first in the air for Thompson, but I could tell she genuinely wanted to debate me more than she wanted to defend him.

I sighed.

"Fine. But I'm going to make this quick and then I'm gonna go do my job, because I have a ton of stuff to do today," I said, finally stepping away from the door to stand in the middle of the room. Everyone stared at me, leaning forward in their seats a little, Mary most of all. "...I can't believe I'm about to engage in this."

Mary scoffed and I rolled my eyes, but then took a deep breath and dove in. What the hell, right?

"Okay, first of all, let me clarify: I can understand, from a surface level, why you might pick Thompson. He's handsome, and if you didn't spend much time with him, I can see why you'd think he might make a good partner. Honestly, in the five months I've known him, I've even seen a few glimmers of hope that there might be a heart of gold underneath all that arrogance, posturing, and chauvinism. However. In terms of best guy in the office to have as a partner? He does not even come close to touching Daniel Sousa."

A few people raised their eyebrows, half leaning forward and half leaning back and crossing their arms. I ignored them all (especially Mary, who beamed at me), and continued.

"Listen. Sousa is... kind of ridiculously attractive. He's handsome, with the warmest brown eyes you've ever seen in your entire life... and he's super strong. I've seen him one-handed lift a bunch of different things the other agents struggled with using their whole bodies. He looks incredible in a sweater vest, to say nothing of suits and non-sweater vest clothes."

I saw considering nods around the room as people took in my words. I paused and took a deep breath, then continued.

"More than all of that, though... Daniel is kind. He's strong in his morals and his character, not just physically. He's got a great sense of humor, and his jokes don't rest on being a mean, close-minded jackass. And, above anything else, he respects me. He respects Peggy. He treats us as equals. I don't know about you guys, but... that means everything to me. And finding a man who's kind, smart, strong, handsome, and will treat me as an equal partner? Come on. Daniel's got it all."

I hadn't been paying a lot of attention to the expressions of everyone else around the room while I was talking, but now I focused back in to see the majority looking thoughtful. I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious, and started backing towards the door.

"Uh, anyway... long way of saying I'd put Daniel at the top of my list."

Mary grinned at me as I continued heading for the door, then pushed out of her chair and called out to the whole room.

"Hear that? Sousa's off limits, these two are going to be dating in the next month if we have anything to say about it."

"MARY!"

****************

Daniel's POV

Jack and I stood in the hallway, stunned into silence as we stared into space. My brain had been telling me to stop listening a while ago, but I'd been shocked enough that my body had refused to listen. Now, my heart was telling me I was on the verge of a cardiac arrest.

"You go get him, girl!" Mary's voice continued through the vents. Then, with determination and glee dripping from her words, "I'm staying after Thompson. I'm gonna fix him."

I heard some light-hearted laughter, and then a door shutting. In a few seconds, the girl who'd just poured her heart out to me without realizing it would be coming into the office, a few feet from Jack and I's stupid hiding place.

"You look like you're about to puke," said Jack, a beaming grin on his face. I scowled.

"Why don't you? You just got called a couple pretty bad things."

"What? Like 'attractive'? All I was hearing were positives." He grinned at me, then sobered slightly before slapping me on the shoulder and taking a few steps away. "Don't psych yourself out on this one though, Sousa. She's a catch, and she's clearly in love with you. If you don't take a shot, I might have to."

I scoffed and shook my head. I knew Jack didn't really mean that; it was his own, terrible way of trying to be supportive.

I sighed and tried to brace myself as I walked over to the entrance to the SSR. Thompson was wrong about many, many, many things, but he was right about this: I needed to take my shot.

****************

Y/N's POV

"Holy- Daniel!" I nearly dropped the snack I'd taken a detour to retrieve as I cleared the SSR doors and came face to face with Daniel, especially since I'd just poured my heart out about him to a bunch of our coworkers. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Uh... sorry," he said, shifting his weight around a little and running a hand through his hair. He looked almost as comfortable as I felt.

"Is, uh, is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Well, sort of. I just..." He cleared his throat, then jerked his eyes away from the floor and the wall to meet mine. "I need to tell you something, and then I need to ask you something."

"...Okay?"

"First, I... I heard what you said in the breakroom. About me. And about Jack, which was fun too, but... It feels important that you know I heard the stuff you said about me."

My heart stopped in my chest, and I blinked a few times as black spots danced at the very edges of my vision. I was going to kill Mary.

"Uh..."

"Before you say anything, I'm sorry," he said, holding up a hand. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just... I let Thompson suck me into something I should've known better about. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Daniel," I said, a little breathless as my legs finally started working to move me past him. I could not deal with this a second longer. "Don't worry about it, I'll... I have to go-"

"Wait!" he cried. He put one hand on my arm to stop me, then quickly dropped it when I turned back to look at him. I watched him take a deep breath, my heart hammering a thousand times even though it only took a few seconds, then he continued. "Look, I know I might've lost a few points in your book for the eavesdropping, which is fair, but... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't head over heels for you too. Have been since the first few days you got to the agency. You're smart and strong and funny and... God, listen to me."

He looked down and shook his head, and I noticed a slight blush rising up his neck and cheeks. Slowly, my heart dropped back to a normal rhythm, and I started to smile.

"Okay, what I'm trying to say is... I feel the same way about you that you do about me," he said, finally looking up at me again. "And if you'd still be interested... I'd love to take you out to dinner sometime."

I beamed at him, unable to stop the smile completely overtaking my face. I looked down, and when I looked up again, Daniel's stare was still on me, a smile hopefully flickering in and out of place.

"Daniel, I'd love that," I finally said.

"You would?"

"Yeah. I really, really like you, eavesdropping and all."

He huffed a laugh, the shaky smile turning into full-on beaming.

"Great! How's tomorrow night sound?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Good. I'll pick you up at eight." He started to back away, so both of us could get to the mountain of work we had to tackle at some point today, then stopped. "If that works for you, that is?"

I smiled. "That absolutely works for me."

"Alright, great! I'll see you then. And, uh, around the office, I guess."

"I'll see you around the office."

We shared another set of dorky, ridiculous smiles as we backed away from each other, going to do our separate tasks for at least part of the day. Thank God Thompson wasn't around to see either of us.

At some point, he and the rest of our coworkers would probably catch on to the two of us dating, unless the first date somehow went so horribly there wasn't a second. But I'd meant every word I'd said to the rest of our coworkers about Daniel. And if a little eavesdropping had led to him asking me out, I couldn't bring myself to be too upset about any of it.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe

[striderepiphany]

My favorite reddie fics masterpost

I have an absolutely insane number of reddie fics saved in my bookmarks for how recently I joined this fandom so I decided to share my absolute favorites with you. Please give these authors some love and let me know which ones are you've read and enjoyed!

the year of the goat and your kid back by derryfacts2

1 chapter, 14,838 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: The day you get the most important email of your life, there’s a new black skidmark on the wall of the stairwell, and you know exactly whose fault it is. “Margaret,” you intone to the harried, wild-haired woman in the lobby. She sighs at you as she tries to jimmy her mail key loose. “I know.” It wouldn’t even be that bad if the kid would just skateboard outside. Or get good at skateboarding. Either of those things. Maggie’s a nice lady, though, and she’s had “trying my best” scribbled all over her since they moved into 6B maybe eight years ago. So you try not to be a dick, even if her son is a gold-standard pain in the ass. He’s good for three things: smells, noise, and reminding you how big Eddie must be by now.

The first It fic I read that made me go "holy shit, this is fantastic" and remains one of my all-timers (hence why its first in this list). Really fun and unique outsider POV from Eddie's estranged gay dad, and tells a very sweet story mostly through dialogue. Young adult Eddie and Richie are very cute.

i think the clock is slow by derryfacts2 (again)

3 chapters, 15,815 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: So there was that reason that work wasn’t boring, too. There was Richie’s soppy campaign of making cow eyes at the back of Eddie’s head as he passed, gently pressing Betty for details about his personal life (“I don’t think he has one. He had this awful fiancé a few years ago, but we’re all glad that’s over”), and chasing the incomparable high of a quiet, muttered “Thanks, Rich” whenever Richie picks something up for him from the copier.

Richie is a wannabe stand-up comic daylighting as the receptionist at Eddie's office. Eddie is a tightly-wound corporate asshole. They are both disasters. Or: five times Richie watched Eddie and one that Eddie watched him back.

I really enjoy workplace dramas and this one satisfied the itch so well. So many good scenes and dialogue, this author characterizes them in a way that really works for me. The perfect read-in-an-afternoon fic.

listen to my heart (can you hear it sing?) by vampirerising

12 chapters, 137,708 words, Major Character Death. Summary: "You need to wake up now,” Stan says softly. “This isn’t real.”

“I know, but I can’t,” Richie sobs. “I don’t want to be here.” Not again. Never again. It is dead, why is It still haunting him?

Stan fixes him with one of those looks of his, the one where he can see his every thought as if it were written on his face. “That’s not true, Trashmouth.”

Alternatively: We all know Richie gets caught in the Deadlights, but do we really know what happens after?

(Deadlights, timelines, Stan’s ghostly meddling—oh, my.)

This one is fucking weird in a way that I absolutely adore. Kind of like a sci-fi novel in that it requires you to pay attention to figure out what the fuck is going on but its so good and worth it. The MCD is Stan, not Eddie, and the last couple chapters are actually a very normal domestic Eddie lives AU. One of the first reddie artworks I made was fanart for a scene from this fic that I really enjoy.

a strange sense of familiarity by Katranga

21 chapters, 103,571 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "So Eddie, what brings you to the bar tonight?" Richie asked. "Gonna rebound from the divorce? Pick up a hot young twenty-something to feel young again?” “Fuck you,” Eddie said, jutting his chin forward. “What a terrible way to ruin the mood.” “I’m sorry, all my moods are poorly cultivated. What mood were you looking for?” A nervous lump grew in Eddie's throat. He threw back his drink to get rid of it.

Hand wrapped around the glass he’d just slammed back onto the bar, he said, “The mood that gets me leaving with a schlubby forty-something.”

Pre-chapter two, Eddie and Richie meet and don't remember each other, but have an instant connection anyway...

This one is just... so fucking good. Decently long without ever feeling like it's dragging. Part 1 is them developing their totally-casual-I-swear relationship, which blows up right when Mike calls them back to Derry. Part 2 is them navigating both killing a nightmare clown demon and the awkwardness between them. Also everybody lives! So that's nice.

change partners by avacadomoon (with podfic available)

1 chapter, 30,453 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Rich," Eddie says heavily. Meaningfully, and Richie holds his breath, both afraid and hopeful that Eddie is about to say something really sappy, like I always knew and it didn't matter to me, or you know I support you no matter what. Eddie takes a deep breath before he speaks, and Richie closes his eyes, braced for it. "I didn't look at your dick pics."

"Well hey, Eds, thanks," Richie says, laughing incredulously. "Thanks for that."

I LOVE THIS ONE SOOO FUCKING MUCH. I urge you to consider this as a rec for this author as well, as they have a bunch of other reddie fics I think are fantastic. I have a weakness for any reddie fic that lets them be just a little mean to each other. As a treat. (Also the podfic is very well done, you should check that out too.)

check raise by avacodomoon

1 chapter, 15,061 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Eddie, not a fan of stand up comedy, not a fan of his beer," Rich says, leaning back on one elbow and squinting at him, like he's lining him up in a camera lens frame, "but what is he doing drinking alone?"

"I was alone, and now I'm not," Eddie says. "Some prick sat down next to me and started yapping."

"Ah, unpleasant to talk to," Rich concludes. "Explains a lot."

I know I meant the last rec as a blanket rec for all this author's works but I'm including this one specifically because it has a twist ending that is well-foreshadowed and it slapped my dick clean off.

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers

11 chapters, 107,947 words, Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings. Summary: In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Definitely NOT your average Eddie lives AU. Drama! Mild peril! Psychic abilities! The ghost of Stanley Uris collect calling from beyond the grave via Richie Tozier's vocal chords! Fun and freaky and weird. Three things that make any fic a Josh favorite.

I'm going to stop there because I'm sleepy but let me know if you want more! Like I said I've got like 70 of these lovingly tucked in my bookmarks and I'm happy to share with the class.

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 7

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 3522

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This chapter switches back and forth on POV's. This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7

Your POV As you finished out your shift, you noticed that he was still watching you, as well as when his partner left. You didn’t go talk to him, nor did he with you. Something else that relieved you was that there didn’t seem to be any demons in the store anymore, which helped you relax. Sarah bugged you about the date, teasing you a bit. 

When five rolled around, you were feeling slightly excited about your date with this stranger and quickly clocked out, bidding your coworkers farewell for the night. You didn’t even notice the Impala in the parking lot as you headed on your way. During the drive, you went through all sorts of questions you wanted to ask him, including finding out what the hell his name was.

“Shit,” you grumbled as you saw the pile of ashes still on the inside of your property line.

You sighed, parked your truck, and headed into your backyard, grabbing the flathead shovel before going back out front. You dragged the trashcan over and cleaned up most of the ashes. It looked like it had to come from at least three demons, although you weren’t entirely sure.

“At least the warding worked,” you mumbled aloud, feeling rather proud of yourself before you put everything away and headed inside.

It was a quarter to six, and the bar was only about five minutes from your house. You didn’t want to overdo it and dress up too much, so you picked out a simple spaghetti strap, black dress, and a pair of black flats to go with it. Then you pulled on a dark blue flannel, tying it so it looked like a half top, leaving it unbuttoned. You left your hair down. Dinner was leftovers since you’d prepared a week's worth of meals for yourself over the prior weekend you had off—chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, corn on the side.

The time ticked by, sometimes slowly, other times quickly, and before you knew it, it was time to head to the bar. You’d decided that you would stick to somewhat safe topics to start with, and depending on how he answered would depend on how deep your questions would venture. You parked in the dirt area of the parking lot, noticing that he hadn’t gotten there yet. Part of you wondered if he’d actually show.

The bar wasn’t busy since it was the middle of the week, and you found several empty seats near the far side of the bar. When one of the bartenders came over and asked what you wanted, you asked for a double shot of whiskey, at least to start with. She smiled and poured your drink. At first, you just sipped it, but when seven-thirty rolled around, you downed the shot that was left. 

“Jerk,” you mumbled, looking away from the door.

“What’s the matter?” the bartender asked you.

“Got stood up,” you sighed, “Could I get a beer?” 

“Sorry to hear about you getting stood up. I’ll have that beer back in a flash,” she replied, giving you a compassionate smile.

Your mind wandered, mostly about him. What was the point of him asking you if he wasn’t even going to show, you thought to yourself as the bartender set the beer down in front of you. You popped the top and began sipping it. It wasn’t like you lived far away; there was usually very little traffic late at night. Halfway through your beer, you heard the door open again and glanced over, raising an eyebrow. A soft scoff left your lips as you shook your head; he showed up.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He’d spend the last half hour just sitting in the driver’s seat in the parking lot. Her truck was there. He wasn’t feeling all those things he had earlier when he was near her at the store; he just wasn’t entirely sure how to go about getting her to talk. It was clear she knew things as she’d warded her property. He just wasn’t sure how much she knew.

Dean finally took a deep breath and made his way inside, a quarter past seven. He looked around the bar, two pool tables to his left and the bar to his right, and there were tables and booth seats scattered on the other half of the bar. He saw her sitting alone and nursing a beer at the far side of the bar. One more deep breath, and he walked over to her.

“Still up for some company? And, I’m sorry I was late, forgot how long of a drive it was from town,” he told her, only half lying.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I guess so, since you’re here,” she replied without looking up at him.

He sighed and sat next to her on a barstool, “I really am sorry,” he told her again, meaning it.

The bartender came over, and he ordered a beer, which she retrieved, and he popped the top, taking a sip.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You weren’t entirely sure what to believe, but for now, you decided to give him at least the benefit of the doubt, “How about at least telling me your name,” you suggested, looking over at him.

He smirked a little, “I’m Dean. Thanks for staying,” he replied, sipping his beer.

He was in regular street clothes, jeans, a t-shirt, a flannel, and a jacket, and you were thankful you’d chosen what you had, “Nice to meet you, Dean. Are you allowed to tell me about this stakeout that involves my work?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Well, I could tell you, but I might get in trouble if I do,” he replied, and you could have sworn he was flirting, but it was hard to tell. The man seemed just to be naturally charming.

You smirked, “You look like the kind of guy who’s used to getting into trouble,” you replied, deciding just to be yourself and be playful, even teasing him a little. You still needed information, after all.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He wasn’t feeling those same things he had when he’d been around her at the store, but he still found her more interesting than he should have. Dean was grateful she’d decided to stay but knew he’d have to keep his wits about him. She was quick with her comebacks, something he wasn’t used to from women.

“It’s been known to happen from time to time,” he chuckled.

Dean watched her, noticing how relaxed she looked as she leaned a bit on the counter, her hand on her beer, sipping it from time to time. 

She glared at him playfully, “You like being vague, don’t you?” she asked, although it was rhetorical, and he knew it.

“Looks like you can read me like an open book, Sweetheart,” he replied, shaking his head and still smiling before he sipped his beer.

“I’m working on it,” she mused, “So, what can you tell me?”

He’d prepared for this, figuring she was going to ask, “There’s a group of people in the area that are trafficking people, mostly women. It’s happened before, but we still haven’t gotten the ringleader. This isn’t the first time we’ve been in the area,” he explained to her, hoping he’d buy his story.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You didn’t watch the news. There were too many bad things going on in the world as it was, and you didn’t want to know just how bad it really was out there. You didn’t live terribly far from the border, so his story at least made sense to you. You’d know people when you were a teenager who had run drugs over the border for the cartels, even if you had never been involved with any of it.

It still seemed as though he was hiding something; you noticed it in his eyes, “How many times have you been to this area?” you asked, seeing just how far you could push.

You noticed how he sipped his beer like he was debating an answer, “More times than I’d like to admit in the last five years,” he replied, sighing.

That sparked something in you, but you managed to hide it from your expression, “What brought you here the first time?” you asked curiously.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

He had to really think about how to answer her. It wasn’t like he could tell her it was because of the hardest monsoon the place had seen, when the F0 had touched down in the area due to demonic activity. Dean took a sip of his beer.

“That was when the trafficking started, and my partner and I got assigned to the case,” he told her. It was mostly true.

“Huh,” she replied, then looked away from him and sipped her beer.

He tried to read her, but she wasn’t easy to read. It was like a challenge to him, and he had already decided he was going to face it head-on, “You seem surprised,” he mused, putting on his signature smirk.

“Kind of. That’s when I got into a car accident. There was a really bad storm the next day. At least that’s what my family told me after I woke up from the coma I was in,” she replied, seeming somewhat casual, but at the same time, it almost sounded like she was digging for information out of him.

“I’m sorry to hear about that. Was it a bad one?” he asked, wondering just where she was headed with things and how much she might divulge.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You glanced over at him, tilting your head a bit, “Figured you had read up on me. You’ve been watching me at work more than my other co-workers. It’s kind of obvious that you and your partner have been keeping an eye on me,” you told him, plainly, but confidently.

He may have asked you out for a drink, but how he and his partner had been watching you at work had been enough to know that they knew something. You were also second-guessing whether or not he was a real FBI agent as well. Since he’d shown up late, it was time to get to the point of things carefully.

Dean didn’t seem to answer you right away, although he hadn’t stopped looking at you, even when he sipped his beer, “Alright. Yeah. I read your file, but it only contains the technical details.”

You watched him, almost studied him as he answered. He knew more than he was letting on, and you knew it, “I honestly don’t remember it. I blacked out the moment my car plowed into the back of that rig. Then, I woke up in a hospital bed two weeks later,” you explained, then looked away from him.

A quiet sigh left your lips as you looked down at the counter, “I should have died in that wreck from what I was told.”

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Dean watched how she moved slightly, where her eyes shifted. He was pretty sure she knew she was at least different than a normal human, “I’m glad you’re okay. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to have drinks with you tonight,” he told her with a slight smirk.

She turned to face him, tilting her head just a bit, “So, why are you and your partner watching me, in particular? I know that’s why you asked me out for drinks,” she asked, blunter than he’d been prepared for.

He couldn’t hide all the surprise of her bluntness. He even chuckled at her bluntness, shaking his head slightly. However, Dean had prepared for this question as well.

“Well, Sweetheart, you’re the only connection to all the places that have been hit,” he told her, finishing his beer.

It was her turn to be surprised. Dean had spent his whole life learning how to read people, and it was clear to him that she was attempting to hide something. He just wasn’t sure how far he could push her or if she’d even knew what she was.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You momentarily froze as your chest tightened and your breathing became shallow. That was the one thing you’d hoped he wouldn’t put together. Dean was clearly more intelligent than he had been letting on.

“So you think they’re after me,” you sighed, signaling the bartender, “I’ll have that whiskey now.”

She nodded at you, then got your drink. You took a sip. Dean was clearly waiting till the bartender left before speaking again.

“You fit the profile, physically. My partner and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he finally answered, seeming concerned. “When I asked you about the sulfur smell that first day, I questioned you. You’ve smelled it before, haven’t you?” he pushed, but you could tell he was trying to get you to talk more.

You sighed, taking another sip of your whiskey, “Yeah,” you paused, staring more at the bottles on the shelves behind the bar. For a moment, you pursed your lips, debating your following statement, “You’re not FBI, are you? Just like you aren’t asking me about any crime ring. You’re asking me about demons.” 

You could see his reaction from your peripheral, causing a slight smirk to tug at the corner of your lips. That was all you needed as an answer to your question.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Dean barely managed not to choke on his beer with your question. For a moment, all he could do was look at you. He’d prepared for all kinds of ways tonight would go, but your bluntness and knack for reading him was still throwing him off.

He chuckled slightly, shaking his head, deciding just to be honest, “You’re right, I’m not FBI. Yes, I was asking you about demons. I was honest, though. I do believe they’re after you.”

She sighed, sipping her whiskey again, and he tilted his head. He still wondered if she knew what she was. The fact that she was able to keep her expression somewhat void of emotions was something that intrigued him, as it made it hard for him to read her.

“My brother and I want to keep you safe, but we can’t do that if you don’t open up to me,” he told her, trying to reassure her, even if he was a stranger to her.

“Brother, huh?” she chuckled, “I know you’re not a demon. I also know if I can trust you.”

“Yeah, he’s my younger brother. We do this sort of thing a lot. It’s kind of the family business,” he replied, sipping his beer.

That was when he explained everything to her: how he’d been raised in the life, the things they hunted, and the things they’d investigated over the last five years when it came to this particular case. Dean left out that he knew what she was, though. He hoped she’d open up a little more now that he’d been more upfront with her.

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You took a deep breath, as that was a lot to take in. You’d never met nor heard of a hunter before, but it made sense. Monsters did need to be handled by something. The bartender refilled your whiskey, seeing your glass empty. 

“I couldn’t imagine living like that,” you said, almost feeling bad about how the brothers were raised.

“Well, someone’s gotta step up, and we like being able to save people,” he replied, giving you a softer smile than you’d seen all night.

For a bit, your mind wandered. Something inside you told you he was being honest and that you could trust him. It was a new feeling, as it had never happened with a stranger before.

You shifted on your barstool to face him again, studying his expression, “I know I’m different, at least since my accident. My mom said I was a fairy, but after all the research I did, it just didn’t fit.”

The way he seemed to consider your words, pursing his lips briefly, made you tilt your head a bit. He did know something, far more than what he’d already said.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

Again, he had to take a moment, although he was thankful she’d finally admitted what she knew. The part that puzzled him was what she said about her mom, which only made more questions in his mind.

“You’re not a fairy. You’re what's called a Pari. It’s similar to a fairy but more powerful. How does your mom know about that stuff? If it’s not too personal to ask,” he told her, wanting to keep her talking.

The bartender brought another beer for Dean, taking his empty before walking away.

He watched her tilt her head, a somewhat puzzled look on her face, “My mom said it was in my bloodline. She told me she dreams of another place where there are more like me. I started dreaming of it too, after my accident,” she explained.

“Well, now, that wasn’t quite what I was expecting,” he said, still a bit surprised, “Pari are from a different dimension; at least, that’s what we could find in the lore. Some people carry a gene that gets turned on when they are in a near-death experience. If my brother and I were back at our place, I’m sure there’s better information there.”

----------------------------------------- Your POV

Sarah was going to have a field day with how this ‘date’ was going, you thought to yourself. You thought about what he said: Pari, a different dimension, carrying a gene. What were you even supposed to do with that information, and how were you supposed to keep yourself safe? Too many thoughts and not enough time to process it all.

“So, what happens now? I mean… It’s clear that demons are after me because of what I am. But I mean…” you trailed off and sighed, looking down at your drink.

“You could come with me and my brother. We can take you somewhere safe where they won’t be able to find you,” he told you, seeming genuine.

“For how long?” you asked, trying not to sound sad at the thought of having to hide for the rest of your life.

“At least until we can figure out what the demons want with you,” he explained.

The two of you sat silently for a few minutes while you sipped your whiskey, carefully considering what he suggested. Your friends and family, as did your home and job, wandered into your thoughts. 

“What about my job? I can’t just walk away,” you asked, still not looking over at him.

----------------------------------------- Dean's POV

She looked so sad to him at that moment, “My brother and I can take care of that part. Can you be ready to go in the morning?” he asked, hopeful. 

At least this way, she’d be in the bunker where they could keep an eye on her. Plus, they would have the books and research at their fingertips to figure out more about her. Now, all he had to do was get her to agree, and then he had to break the news to his brother.

There was another long silence, but he let it linger, letting her think and process it all. He watched her sip her whiskey as he sipped his beer.

“Will you be picking me up in the morning?” she asked, somewhat quietly, and he could tell she was sad.

Dean sighed, “Yeah. I can be there around nine. It will give you time to get your things together and wake up. I’ll let my brother know when I head back to the motel tonight.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning,” she told him, finishing her drink.

When she stood and reached for her wallet, he stopped her, “I did still ask you out tonight. I got the bill.”

----------------------------------------- Your POV

You looked up at him, his hand on your arm. Even with the strength you felt from him, his touch was soft, almost gentle. It surprised you.

“Uh, thanks,” you replied, a bit unsure of how you felt toward him at the moment.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he told you, giving you a friendly smile.

As you walked away, you only glanced back once, over your shoulder at him. Then, you headed home. Your thoughts raced, but your movements were slow once you got inside your place. There was a duffle bag in the bottom of your closet, which you pulled out and tossed on your bed. Since he hadn’t given you a time frame, you packed a decent amount of clothes, your toiletries, and some personal effects that were dear to your heart.

All in all, you had your duffle bag, a crate with a mix of toiletries and personal items, your backpack with your journal, coloring items, and more miscellaneous needs and keepsakes. Lastly was your purse, which you hardly ever used. You put your wallet, phone charger, pocket knife, and other little tidbits in. 

You sighed once it was all stacked neatly by your front door and then changed into something comfortable for the night. So far, you haven’t messaged anyone about what was going on. You weren’t sure if it was even a good idea to say anything. You weren’t even in the mood to read Tumblr that night.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 8

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.

[reddie-ao3feed]

call me hot (not pretty)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/NfyU9p3 by watchoutforthefanfics Beverly pulled the conversation that time, “Why don't you ask him out?” Mike nodded at her, almost in agreement. “Because-” Eddie started flailing his hands around a moment, “-I've had this dream since fucking 6th grade that Richie would ask me out.” Beverly stared at him sympathetically then and opened her mouth to say something. “You can ask him out first,” Stan interrupted, pointing out, “-and then he can ask you out. Simple.” “It's not-” “I get it, Eddie,” Mike followed, maybe trying to break up fucking… Stan, “-he's been flirting with you for so long, you just want to see him execute on it.” “Yes, yeah,” Eddie sighed, running a hand through his hair, “-it's kinda fucked up if I have to finally do it.” “Well,” Bev pursed her lips (cherry red, it was kinda her signature thing) like she was thinking, “-why don't you just kick it up a notch?” Or Eddie is stubborn and wants Richie to make the first move (Beverly has a solution). Words: 10236, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: IT (Movies - Muschietti) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Bill Denbrough, Patricia Blum Uris Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier Additional Tags: Minor Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, Young Adult Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flirting, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Gay Disaster Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Little Shit, Eddie Kaspbrak is So Done, Crying, Panic Attacks, Eddie Kaspbrak Has OCD, (like obsessive thoughts), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, (kinda), Eddie Kaspbrak Wears Richie Tozier's Clothes, Eddie Kaspbrak's Love Language is Physical Touch, (I'm so serious about that), Richie Tozier's Sense of Humor, Song: HOT TO GO! (Chappell Roan), Beverly Marsh Knows Everything, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Stanley Uris is So Done, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, (mostly Richie in this one though), Explicit Language, Gay Panic, Richie Tozier is a Dork, Richie Tozier is Clumsy, Frustration, Sexual Frustration, (Eddie is going through it honestly), innuendos, Eddie Kaspbrak Has Issues, Eavesdropping, Getting Together, Gay, Blushing, (like a lot), kinda blacked out for a few days and ended up with this, Anxiety, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, it takes tears to get their asses in gear, The Losers Club Are Good Friends (IT), Stanley Uris Knows All, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh Are Best Friends, Mike Hanlon is a Good Friend, Jealous Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Goes Crazy Over Richie's Shoulders, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Rated T for Trashmouth read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/NfyU9p3

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"One bite and five days are all it took for the world to come to an end. Nearly two months after an unexplainable, violent illness swept throughout the globe like a raging wildfire, after cities have crumbled to ruin and most of humanity has been wiped out, only a few survive. Some of those still alive are just trying to survive, while others are searching for an answer—a reason why and what caused people to turn into walking, cannibalistic corpses that decay but never seem to truly die. Now, a group of survivors—a dog, few adult figures, and a bunch of teenagers—search for a cure and must figure out how to live with the undead amongst them, and how to deal with each other as relationships strain and tensions rise."

†· Word Count: 5198 †· Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types †· Rating: Mature †· Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death †· Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jason Grace/Piper McLean, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf, Thalia Grace/Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano †· Characters: Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Leo Valdez, Nico di Angelo, Frederick Chase, Frank Zhang, Luke Castellan, Hazel Levesque, Jason Grace, Piper McLean, Grover Underwood, Juniper (Percy Jackson), Katie Gardner, Travis Stoll, Connor Stoll, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Will Solace, Silena Beauregard, Charles Beckendorf, Clarisse La Rue, Thalia Grace, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano †· Additional Tags: Angst · Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence · Inspired by The Walking Dead · Title from a My Chemical Romance Song · Found Family · Bittersweet · Based on a My Chemical Romance Song · I'm so sorry · Everyone Needs A Hug · Hurt/Comfort · Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse · Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson-centric · Betrayal †· **First Person POVs** †· Rated Mature for strong language, violence, sexual references, etc..

Annabeth

My breath hitches, a chill running through me as if I'm frozen in place.

"Drop it and turn around slowly," the person—I think it's a man—orders.

I do what he says and turn around with my hands up, reluctantly setting my dagger on the floor. The guy, who can't be much (if any) older than me, stares me down with hard, sea-green eyes. Did he come through the window? He must have since there is a barricade in front of the only other viable entrance.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" he asks, his words sharp and suspecting. With his eyes and the barrel of his gun still trained on me, the boy reaches behind him and grabs a long piece of scrap wood. At first, I think he is going to hit me with it, but all he does is start fixing the barricade in front of the door. "I asked you a question," he reminds me.

"I hardly think that's important," I respond. "And it is a pretty stupid idea to shoot that in here. Imagine how many walkers will show up at your doorstep. Then what?"

I still have my gun on me. Maybe I can wound his gun hand? (It contradicts what I just told him, but I'm mostly just trying to buy myself some time.)  I don't want to kill him; as far as I'm aware, he's just trying to survive like everyone else. 

My gaze drifts to the large black lab standing beside him. The dog lets out a low growl, but its owner puts a hand on its head, easing it back. Taking the hint, I revert my eyes back to the gun barrel aimed at my head.

"I didn't take your gun, but I'm about to."

Shit.

The guy sighs, clearly tired and irritated. "Look, you don't have to tell me your name—I don't even really care about that. I just want to know what you're doing here and what you want."

His messy, tangled black hair hangs in his eyes, obscuring most of his face. Everything except for his eyes, which look almost as if they’re glowing. 

I could possibly take him; his arm has to be getting tired. Except, despite appearing weary, he still looks as though he can easily defend himself. I'll keep it as a secondary option if I can't talk myself out of this.

"I got lost and somehow ended up here," I say, leaving out that I was in a group. "It was getting dark, and I was just looking for somewhere to stay for the night. That's it. I swear."

The guy looks me up and down, then holsters his gun. He definitely doesn’t trust me—and I certainly don’t trust him—but I'm grateful to not have a gun pointed at my head.

For the time being, anyway.

He turns back around and tinkers with the barricade a bit more, making sure it's secure. Just then, a thought strikes me. Is he trying to lock me in here?

"Whoa, wait a second," I say. "What are you doing?"

"You said you needed somewhere to crash, and you sure as hell can't go back out there," the guy informs me, his muffled footsteps following him as he walks out of the carpeted living space and into the kitchen; I can still see him because of the half wall between us. "They'd eat you alive in a minute.” He rummages through the cabinets.

"So, what, you're keeping me here because you don't want me to die? You obviously don't trust me—"

"Of course I don't. Still, I'm not the kind of person to send somebody off to their death just because I don't trust them," he tells me, his voice stern yet softer than before. Either way, it's an improvement compared to earlier. "But you're gone as soon as you can walk well enough. Got it?"

I watch him for a moment, trying to determine if he intends to kill me in my sleep or if he genuinely means well. (I reason the latter.) "Got it," I respond. Besides, he’s right; I’m blood in an ocean full of sharks. Not to mention that I can’t walk without nearly falling over, and my perception of everything is skewed.

He looks back at me for a second, an expression resembling something of contemplation, then turns his attention back to the dining table where he is taking out loot from his bag, which I assume is from a recent supply run.

Not sure what else to do, I sit on a dusty couch (vertigo and fatigue winning out) and look around the small apartment. Half of the furniture has been burned at some point by the looks of the bare, open space of the living room, void of any personalization; it looks like a stock photo of an apartment—not like somebody lives here. The only thing that does give it away are the sporadic, clean rectangles on the wall where paintings or photos would have been. A pile of photographs in the far corner of the gloomy, dust-covered room catches my attention. I don’t dare get up and look. (One: I will probably fall down; two: I don't want to start snooping around this guy's apartment.)

From where I’m sitting, I can see that the photo on the top of the pile is of a man and a woman, who has dark hair and blue eyes—from what I can make out in the dim light—both smiling. There is a young boy between them, about eight or nine, that looks similar to the guy before me. He has sea-green eyes, the same as the boy in the picture and the man standing by him. (They look almost identical. However, the man’s face is sterner. Moodier than his younger counterpart’s.)

The little boy, his face covered in blue frosting, is grinning from ear to ear like he’s the happiest kid on Earth.

The guy in front of me only vaguely resembles that now.

A sound like a thousand tiny alarm bells starts going off in my ears, sending a harsh pain through my skull. I press a hand to my ear, wincing at the pain. I’m all sorts of fucked up. Speaking of injuries… My ankle. I don’t want to look at it, but I need to. So, I glance down at it, and the sight of a red bruise peeking out from my boot makes me nauseous. Grimacing, I undo the laces on my boot, pull it off, and roll down my sock. Yep. I am definitely fucked. I force myself to choke back the bile threatening to come up my throat and assess the state of it. Blue and purple—almost black—bruises flourish around my ankle; they are worse than I thought they were.

“Here.” The boy with sea-green eyes appears beside me as I shimmy my foot back into my boot—I have no clue when he came back into the living room—holding out a wet cloth.

I blink at him, confused. What’s that for? He’s standing there, somewhat awkward at this point, as he waits for my reply. He taps his temple. “You’re bleeding,” he tells me quietly.

“Oh,” is all I say as I take the rag from his hand.

The guy’s brow furrows for some reason (I don’t know why). Then, his eyes widen as if he has made a realization. “Shit. I forgot,” he scolds himself. "You aren't bit, are you?"

"Um…" I look down at my arms and legs—I don't feel any pain other than in my ankle and the sore, hot, aching pain in my muscles. "I don't think so?" God, my head hurts. I just want to sleep…․

He walks around the couch, looks me over again for good measure, and nudges me forward to examine my back before determining that I'm clear.

Without saying anything else, the guy returns to the kitchen and resumes putting away cans of soup, SpaghettiOs, and bottles of water.

I wince as I dab the side of my head, seeing thick, sticky, dark red blood as I pull the damp cloth away. The bleeding must have slowed down. 

“Thanks,” I blurt.

He nods. “Sure. It’s not as bad as it looks, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“Your head. What did you even do?” he prods. “I’m gonna take a guess you had something to do with the car alarm. You nearly got me killed, just for the record.”

I brush the dark curtains aside and peek through the blinds at the street below, the car alarm still blaring. Walkers are milling about the sidewalks and in the middle of the road, the deafening scream of the car alarm drawing more and more of them. It should have stopped by now, and I really wish it would because it is doing nothing but drawing walkers and making my ears ring. Hopefully, it will shut itself off soon; I don’t want to think of how many there could be if it doesn’t stop. Who knows, though? They tend to get bored after a while, so maybe they will start moving away soon.

“I bashed a ghoul’s head on the hood,” I murmur. “Sorry about that.”

“Whatever gets it done. Next time, I would try to avoid setting off car alarms in the middle of New York City.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t intentional.”

Looking back out the window, the few street lamps that miraculously still work make the undead horde—which has gone from around fifty to a hundred or more in the past half hour—more visible. Most of them are swarming the car, becoming confused when there is no living, breathing human or animal inside; they attack the car nonetheless. Some of the others are simply looking around, dazed.

“…Almost killed myself getting back.” I was distracted by the walkers down below that I didn’t realize the boy was talking to me.

I close the blinds, turn my attention back to him, and pretend like I was listening. “I’d imagine,” I reply.

He raises his eyebrows. "What's that meant to mean?"

I really must have missed something—the context of the conversation, most likely. This concussion really isn't helping my ADHD. "I just meant that, with how everything is, it wouldn't be all that shocking if you almost got bit."

The guy looks at me, slightly amused. "You weren't listening, were you?"

I groan, rubbing my face. "My head is throbbing right now. Cut me some slack."

"Well, I gave you Aspirin a few minutes ago," he tells me, putting something in a bowl. "Didn't you take it?"

What? I don't remember him giving me anything. "You did?"

The guy sets down whatever he is doing and walks over to me, grabbing two white pills and a bottle of water off of the coffee table in front of me, forcibly placing them in my hands. 

"Take them." He has his arms crossed, hovering over me—almost like a parent—to make sure that I take it. 

I don't question him and pop the Aspirin in my mouth, washing it down with a quick swig of water. In hindsight, I definitely should, but he's taken me by surprise.

Before I can say anything else to him, a horrible, blood-curdling scream resounds through the streets—so loud that it’s hard to pinpoint where it is coming from. Alarmed, the guy rushes to the window, hurriedly pushing aside the curtains to peer through the blinds. The blood drains from the guy’s face, and I don’t have to guess why. Following his gaze, I see a boy—twelve or thirteen years old at most—getting swarmed by walkers, falling in the middle of the street as he writhes in agony, the living dead tearing him apart. The boy screams and screams, his entrails hanging out of his torso and out of the mouths of the cadavers.

I quickly turn my head away and squeeze my eyes shut as if it will drown out the noise, unable to watch any more of it.

The guy throws the curtains closed, slamming his fists against the wall. “Damn it,” he grits out, pressing his forehead against it.

We sit in silence, the boy’s screams fading into nothing more than background noise. I’ve watched people get torn to shreds; none so young, though. That’s what makes it so much worse.

“Did you know him?” I finally ask.

The guy shakes his head absently, a faraway look in his eyes. “No,” he responds, adding: “I ran into him once while I was out a few days ago. Gave him some food and a knife. So much good that did…”

“At least you tried,” I tell him. “That boy wasn’t your responsibility, but you tried to help him anyway. You did what you could.”

“There could have been something more that I could have done. Taken him in— Something .”

He stands, staring at the shut curtains as we both realize that the boy’s wails have stopped. Hanging his head, he starts back to the kitchen, his shoulders tense with anger at the monsters who ripped apart an innocent child.

"What's your name?" I ask the guy before he can leave the room again.

"Why should I tell you mine if you won't tell me yours?"

Fair enough.

I relent. "It's Annabeth." I'm not even sure why I was so hesitant in the first place. What would he even do with it? It's not like he can use it against me, and I highly doubt the walkers care about anything I've done.

"Percy," he tells me.

A few minutes later, Percy offers me a bowl of lukewarm soup, which I take from him gratefully. 

Between the pain meds—I’m relieved to report that they really were Aspirin—and food, I’m able to think clearly. This begs the question: why did I agree to stay here with a guy I don’t know, let alone why he would let me. Percy doesn’t know me, either. For all he knows, I could want to kill him or take his stuff. The guy seems nice enough—cautious sure, but aren’t we all?—yet I still feel uneasy. Not because of him, I’ve determined, but from the exertion of everything that has happened today—it’s been a few hours, and my nerves are still on edge, even now. And it’s hard to trust anyone since all of this started.

After we finish eating, having said very little to each other, Percy takes our dishes and puts them in the sink. (I’m not sure how he plans to wash them since there isn’t any running water anymore.)

As I start to get settled in for the night, he throws me a blanket from the other end of the couch, telling me that I can sleep there.

I thank him. But a concern dawns on me.

“Aren’t you worried about them getting in?” I inquire.

Percy waves it off dismissively. “Of course, I worry a little bit,” he admits. “It would be stupid not to. But as long as I’m quiet, none ever come up here.” He follows his comment with: “Most of the time.”

I roll my eyes. “That makes me feel so much better.”

A slight smirk makes its way onto Percy’s face. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Percy goes to leave, yet he pauses at the door frame, pursing his lips as if mulling something over. He looks as though he is about to say something but just shakes his head and enters his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

I didn’t think that I would feel safe enough to fall asleep. However, my body seems to have other plans, and I begin to doze off.

†††

When I wake up, I immediately note that, despite how I got here, I’m not where I’m supposed to be. I rapidly sit up before discovering that that was a mistake. A feeling like somebody twisting it the wrong way while simultaneously squeezing it as hard as they can courses through my ankle, sore and painful. I grit my teeth in pain, covering my mouth with my hand to avoid making any noise. Even though I’m sitting down, I feel dizzy. 

I fall back onto the couch, lying down as I wait for the room to stop spinning before I make any more attempts to sit up. I glance down at my ankle, seeing that my boot is missing and has been replaced by a clean white bandage. I must have really been out of it to not notice somebody taking my shoe in the middle of the night. And, though the bandage covers most of it, the bruising has diminished significantly, leaving only (from what I can tell) pale purple ones in their wake; it still hurts, but not nearly as much as it did yesterday. A guy—he told me his name, but I already forgot what it was—I remember, offered to let me stay and gave me some pain medication before I went to bed last night, which has clearly helped a tremendous amount. Now that I think about it, even my head feels better (voiding the dizziness that came from my first attempt to get up). Like my ankle, it’s still pounding. Even so, conversely to yesterday, it is tolerable—more irritating than anything else.

The room has stopped spinning now, so I decide it’s time I try to get up again.

Okay. Take two.

Carefully, I pull myself up, my arm slung over the back of the couch. I wince as my muscles, still tight in pain, strain at the minimal effort, but relax once I get myself into an upright position. I swing my legs over, my feet touching the carpeted floor. That was easy enough.

Looking around the room, I don’t see the guy anywhere. I can’t imagine that he would still be asleep. (Then again, I have no clue what time it is.)

I remember that I had my bag with me, but I’m not sure where I set it. Hopefully, the guy didn’t take it. (Not that there is really anything of value in it, but it’s still a nice bag.) 

Oh, fuck. My dagger was on the couch beside me in case something happened, but I can’t find it. Before I start freaking out though, I see that my backpack is at my feet. Along with my dagger and missing boot.

Sighing in relief, I slip my foot into my boot, taking a minute to properly wake up. Yesterday was so hectic that I’m surprised I actually made it through the night. Truthfully, I should be dead right now. I guess I got lucky, at any rate.

Sunlight bleeds through the curtains, brightening the room in a soft yet dim light.

The events after that are a bit fuzzy. Nevertheless, I somehow ended up in this guy’s apartment, who offered to let me stay for a day or two.

A sound like someone walking over a metal grate comes from above. Faint at first, then slowly growing louder as it approaches. My fingers curl around my bronze dagger. One of those things should have no reason to come in here—I haven’t made a noise, and there isn’t anything that would typically draw them. Having said that, they don’t appear to be the most intelligent; they don’t need a reason to roam and lurk in the shadows. They’re half-dead, so what else are they supposed to do? There aren’t any hospitals to help them—they all got overrun within the first three days—and they don’t know what they’re doing.

Whatever it is that is coming down the fire escape is getting closer, the rattling of the metal dull yet loud enough that it could mean trouble.

Despite my current state, I still feel like I can take the walker (or person) coming down the fire escape. I hadn’t noticed when I initially got up, but the guy’s dog—I recall now that he said his name was Percy—is curled up in the corner of the living room, near the door. It doesn’t appear too concerned. That doesn’t change my worry, however.

Right as I stand up, ready for a confrontation, the black lab bounds across the room, its tail wagging happily behind it. I see a tall man outside the window, whom I presume to be Percy, carrying two pails of I’m not sure what. He carefully sets them down on the platform beneath his feet, and opens the window to the apartment; Percy picks the pails back up, ducking his head to avoid hitting it on the bottom of the open window as he steps through.

The dog jumps on him, licking his face and nearly making him fall over. “Down, Mrs. O’Leary,” Percy says in a hushed tone. The dog doesn’t listen. “Easy, girl!”

Mrs. O’Leary, albeit rather reluctantly, hops off of her owner and returns to her corner, turning in circles a few times before laying down and resting her head on a stuffed lamb.

He looks in my direction, noticing that I’m awake. “Oh, good. You’re finally up,” Percy says.

“What time is it?” I question, tying my tangled curls into a ponytail to keep them out of my face.

He squints out the window, the sunlight bright and blinding. “About 1:00, I think,” he replies, closing the curtains. “You were out for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

Percy shrugs. “Two days.”

My eyes widen. I knew I was in rough shape, but I didn’t think it was that bad. “You are joking, right?”

I highly doubt he's joking, though I hope, rude as it would be, that he is. I’ve got to get back—not that there is anywhere to get back to, necessarily. We have a rendezvous point in case something happened before we could get to Virginia where my father is waiting for us. All the same, wherever my friends are is where I need to get back to.

“Nope. You had me worried for a minute,” he admits, carrying his buckets to the kitchen. “How’s your ankle, by the way? I did the best I could, but I’m not a doctor or anything.”

I move my left ankle around a little bit—carefully (I learned my lesson from this morning)—flexing it and moving it side to side. It still aches, but not as bad as it did a few days ago. “Better, thank you.” I watch him as he holds the buckets over the sink, pouring out some sort of liquid.

Whether or not it’s a good idea, I walk toward him, doing my best to avoid putting too much weight on it.

Compared to the living room, the kitchen is lighter, despite there being no windows. The living room walls are a pale shade of blue, the color muted by dust and grime. With the dark curtains in front of the windows, though (not to mention the disarrayed state of the room), the room looks ten times darker than it is. In contrast to the depressing atmosphere of the other room, the kitchen, while also a bit of a mess, is tidier. The counters are cluttered but otherwise clean. And the table, well, I can’t say much about it. Like the counters, it is littered with empty cans and dirty dishes stacked on top of each other, and the floor isn’t swept. In his defense, it is the apocalypse, so I doubt that is at the top of his priority list.

“What’s in the bucket?” I ask, sitting down at the light wooden table.

Percy either ignores me or simply doesn’t hear me.

“Now who isn’t paying attention?” I joke, a call back to yesterday—the night before last.

He turns around, a look of surprise on his face, as if he hadn’t known I came in. “Huh?”

“I asked what was in the buckets,” I repeat, stifling a laugh.

“Oh!” Percy says, setting down the now empty bucket and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. I’m beginning to realize that this guy is weird. (Not in a bad way, just…odd. He probably hasn’t seen or talked to anybody in a month, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.) “Sorry, I didn’t hear you talking.” I can see that. “It’s rainwater,” he informs me. “Since the water is shut off and everything, it’s the only way I can get any without going out and getting myself killed.”

Pouring some dish soap in the sink, Percy slides the dishes beside him into the soapy water and starts scrubbing them.

“You do have a way to purify that, right?” I wonder. “You can’t just drink rainwater without filtering or boiling it first.”

Percy doesn’t look back at me, but responds, “When I can. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s probably not a good idea to light a fire inside. Besides, this isn’t for drinking.”

“Fair point.” I pause for a second, thinking of an alternative. He has to have some way to purify it—he said it himself. “You said, ‘When I can,’ so you must have some way of doing it.”

“Well, when I can get away with it, I make a small fire and boil it while I’m up there during the day.”

How didn’t I think of that? I’m ninety percent certain that this concussion is making me stupid—and I’m not okay with it.

Since I don’t have much else to do, I ask if he wants help with the dishes. If I’m going to barge in on him, I should at least help out or something, especially considering that he kept me from becoming one of those things’ dinner. Percy accepts and offers to pull over a barstool.

“Why do you stay here?” I ask, the question having nagged in the back of my mind for the past ten minutes. “There isn’t anybody left here. Quiet frankly, I’m surprised you’re not dead yet.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he states, his tone transforming into something of forlornness; a dark shadow falls across his face. “This is all I know, too. Most of my family is probably dead now, anyway, so it isn’t like I have a purpose in leaving.”

“Leave to stay alive,” I advise, turning my head to look him in the eyes. He appears cleaner than he was the first time I saw him, I note. “Just because you don’t have anyone to look out for doesn’t mean that you just give up. You stay alive for yourself.”

Percy smiles a little bit, almost wistfully. “I’m not giving up—I can’t. It’s… It’s like somebody forcing you to move away without a reason. You just can’t bring yourself to it. You’ve lived in that place for as long as you can remember,” he explains. “I’m not going to just let these things take my home from me. Stupid bastards have already taken everything else from me—”

In his rising ire, he had been gripping the plate he was washing so tightly that it finally snaps under the pressure.

Percy just sighs and carelessly sets the broken dish in the empty trash can at the end of the counter. “Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly.

“It’s okay. We can talk about something else,” I offer, worried about him breaking yet another dish and accidentally attracting the undead.

Percy thanks me and starts up a different conversation—he’s more talkative than he was a few days ago—which I attempt to oblige him in, though I don’t feel much like talking after a while. The familiar pain in my ankle begins to slowly return, as does the throbbing in my head.

Percy stops drying the dishes, detecting my fatigue. “Hey, why don’t you go sit down,” he tells me quietly, taking the hand towel from my grasp. “I’ve got this.”

I nod without protest. We got most of the dishes dried off, so I don’t feel guilty about leaving him to finish the rest.

“I got some more stuff for your ankle,” he mentions. “It should be on the end table.”

On the end table beside the couch, as he said, is an instant cold pack and an ankle brace—the kind you would get at a drugstore. I have no idea how he got his hands on this stuff—at this point, most everything has been looted by people trying to survive or get out of the city. Still, I choose not to dwell on it too much; Percy had done this a few times while I was out, apparently. One thing that I will question, however, is why. There really isn’t a reason to risk his life running errands for the girl who broke into his home. I never asked him to.

“Why are you going to all this trouble?” I finally ask. “You’re lucky you haven’t gotten yourself seriously hurt yet.”

He stands silent for a minute, thinking of a response. I wait patiently—he doesn’t have to answer me. We’ve only talked a little in the time I’ve been here (half of which I was unconscious for).

After a few minutes, he answers. “Because you seem like a good person. And I told you when you came in here a few days ago, I’m not the kind of person to let someone die. Even if they did barge into my house with a dagger and a loaded gun strapped to their ankle,” he adds. “That,” Percy continues, “and the sooner you’re better, the sooner you can leave.”

Despite the last part (which causes a twinge of hurt, for some reason or other), it makes me feel more grateful.

“Thank you for everything,” I say. “But I don’t want you going out there anymore just to get stuff for me.”

He grins—the first time I’ve ever seen him do that, really—the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smirk like I said something amusing.

“Seriously. I’ll be back on my feet in another day or so,” I scold. “Stop going on suicide missions.”

“Who are you telling me what to do, Wisegirl?” he laughs, momentarily forgetting about the corpses above and on the streets below.

“What kind of nickname is that?” I ask, bemused.

“A fitting one,” Percy decides, quieter than a moment ago as he puts the last dish away.

I roll my eyes, shrugging it off.

After rewrapping my ankle, I nestle into the couch, which has been my temporary bed for the past three days. However, as I start to fall asleep, a sense of déjà vu strikes me. Something about Percy seems vaguely familiar; I’m not sure what, exactly. His personality, maybe? I feel like I've met him—or at least seen him—somewhere before all of this came crashing down. I can’t think of a time or place where I would have. I’ve definitely met him briefly at some point, though (or have run into him, at any rate). Thinking about it, there may be a chance that he recognizes me, too. There was obviously something Percy was going to ask me the other night before I passed out, but he never did. For a second, I contemplate asking him. However, I think better of it. He’s already asleep, and I don’t have enough energy to get up.

Read on archiveofourown.org <3

[ghostiiess]

[NSB IMAGINES] - i can't drive because you drive me crazy

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pov: seb and you goes for a roadtrip.. what could happen between you two?

warning: sexy talk, a little bit of making out, kisses and intimacy, other than that, it's completely okay!

type: spicy ;) not smut though, but let's say that it's not really wholesome in the end lol (kisses)

member: sebastian moy

words count: around 25 806 characters :)

my requests are open :) if you ever want some imagines / headcanons, please write them here! i love writing and they're mostly ready by the followings days if i'm not too busy!

10:45 am. You were waiting in front of your house, checking if you had everything you needed: lip balm, sunglasses, scrunchie if needed, condom too - you always had some in your bag just in case -, snacks in case you and Seb were hungry during the drive, your cell phone as well as your charger and your airpods. You have felt the wind in your h/c hair and smiled. Today was going to be a good day.

10:47 a.m. His car finally pulled into the parking lot of the house where you lived with your parents. He rolled down the window and gave you a flirty smile as he looked you up and down.

-Nice fit, Y/N!

You couldn't help but smile.

-Thank you!

You opened the door of your boyfriend's sexy black car and grinned at him as you gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

-Good morning, you said

-Good morning beautiful, he repeated after you. Ready for the best roadtrip of your life?

You nodded.

-You have everything?

-Yup!

-Alright.

Instead of starting the car, he started to look you up and down. He rolled up his window and smiled wider.

-What? Do I have something on my face?

He nodded and sighed, keeping his smile that you liked so much.

-I just think I'm lucky to have you, right now, in my car seat and drive you to a secret place while listening to our favorite music.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled at what he said. Always charming, always flirty and so attractive, it was the same boy you had known since you were twelve years old in elementary school.

-Seb, you are so romantic.

He laughed.

-Only with you.

You gave him a quick kiss, which he continued by putting his hand in your hair perfectly done. You left the gap between your two disappointed mouths that wanted more of this, that didn't want to create a distance between them. You tried to stop smiling, but in vain. This guy made you smile every time you saw him, no matter what he was doing, you could say he was making every situation cute, adorable or funny on purpose.

He gave you a little sad smile.

-We're going on a roadtrip, not to heaven, Sebastian.

He smiled.

-If you want, I can drive you there..

You gently pushed his face with your hand and saw him laughing.

-Haha, maybe later, but for now, drive. I'm excited to see where you take me this week!

Indeed, you and Sebastian had decided to go on a weekly date. Each week, you alternated between rides and walking to get around. When it was your week, you would decide where to go for the date and you would pick up your boyfriend: just like he did with you when it was his week. You didn't see each other very often due to school and his busy schedule, but every week you both waited for Saturday to go on a date. Sometimes it would be in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes in the evening. Sometimes, even during the night. It was always exciting.

-I won't tell you! he laughed.

-Come on! You've been taunting me for a week about this place. Can you give me a hint?

He pretended to think, then let you know his enthusiasm with his mouth creating a smile to his ears.

-I'll give you a hint, only if you give me a kiss.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to him. You kissed his perfectly rosy, perfectly imperfect mouth and watched him ask for more. He put his right hand on your cheek and smiled through the kiss. The young adult smiled and made the distance between your two mouths greater and greater as he rested in his seat.

-This is a place you spoke of, when we were teenagers. One of the first, I'd say. I think we were like 12 or 13 or around this age.

You rolled your eyes. The things you talked about as a teenager with him were already a few years old. They seemed so far away in your head. You tried to find the sacred place, the one you had surely spoken about the most in that teenager year, but failed. You had talked so much about places you wanted to visit over the years, that it was impossible for you to remember that detail you had told him when you were younger.

-Another clue? you asked

-No, you'll see. You already know a little too much, who knows? It's good if you forgot it, it will be a real surprise.

You straightened up and looked at the backyard of your house. He gave you a little smile as he tapped your shoulder to get you to look at him, then held his index finger up in the air as he started his car to signal me to listen.

-Sexy noise! he growled

You smiled at his adorableness.

He was so adorable.

He is so adorable.

He started driving, then looked at you sideways without moving his head.

-I see you looking at me.

He tried not to smile.

-What are you talking about? I'm not doing anything! I'm trying to drive safely to avoid running over your parents' cars!

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your smile with your face in your hand, which was resting on the window sill.

-Anyways… It's not my fault you're so pretty. It's hard to take my eyes off you.

You turned your head and smiled wide.

-Aargh! Stop! he said while giving you his smile. Sweetheart!

You let out a little laugh and reached for your phone as you saw your favorite photos as your lock screen: a picture of you in your boyfriend's arms kissing his cheek, and him smiling broadly.

You punched in your code and searched your apps for the Spotify music app. You connected your phone to the Bluetooth and heard a small murmur from the driver, dressed in a blue and yellow cardigan with a white tshirt underneath that went into his black pants and his black belts.

His left hand on the steering black wheel making you see his agility of driving with only one hand. His left hand showing you his veins, his right hand on the handbrake, just as veiny as the one on the left. You couldn't help but check it, to look at it, to look at it from all the different angles and aspects it had.

-I hope you like what you see.

You felt his flirty eyes on yours, then looked away.

-I don't know what you're talking about!

He sighed and sneered.

-I don't know what you're talking about! he mimicked

The 19-year-old boy smiled and laughed slightly.

-You're too adorable.

You smiled quietly and picked up your phone, checking to see if the Bluetooth was still on.

-Are you going to put on some music?

-Yeah. Only the good ones!

He finally reached the highway.

-The good ones? Babe, The Weeknd is one of the greatest artists you can't have on earth!

You laughed.

-I didn't even mention him. If you thought I was talking about him, it's not my problem..

He sighed, trying to think of a retort, but laughed instead. He knew you were kidding and only joking.

-Touché. I don't have a come-back for that.

-You never do, anyway! you laughed

He made big eyes at you, trying not to smile or laugh, but quickly lost it.

-I really feel that you are teasing me more than usual today. But hey, if teasing me is making you happy, never stop.

-I'mma put some music, but before look at me..

You took your phone and took a picture of him smiling at your phone's camera.

-Okay, now I'll put it.

-You are so corny, baby.

You smiled knowing he was teasing you like he was usually doing, then heard his voice again.

-You're going to put on our playlist, right?

-Of course I am!

You searched your playlist on the music application then grinned. You made it with him at a sleepover. At first, you and Seb were only supposed to do karaoke, but it all quickly changed when one of your favorite songs passed by. And another one. And another one that made you both screaming at the lyrics. For your partner, it was an oligation to create a playlist for you two. You both loved listening to this type of art and it was always nice to discover songs from each other. And since that day, Moy and you started to create a Spotify playlist by adding songs that remembered you of the other. The playlist fastly became the musical source of your travels and your activites.

You saw all your favorite songs mixed together, then pressed "Play". An energetic and r&b music from The Weeknd began to play and echo throughout the car. A new atmosphere was created with the song from his album. Seb smiled at the first note of the main instrument of the music and started to get excited.

-Starboy!! LET'S GO! Turn it up, baby! TURN IT UP!

You laughed at his childish behavior, but nevertheless responded to his request. He started to dance, then looked at you as he began to sing the words to the wonderful song he had introduced you to, on a Saturday night while going on a trip to get bubble tea and donuts.

-I'm tryna put you in the worst mood, ah! P1 cleaner than your church shoes, ah!

You smiled and watched him continue to sing as if he was the singer and creator of this music. He had listened to it at least 30 times, that was for sure. He saw your reaction and widened his smile as he invited you to join him in the melody that shook his black car.

-You know the songs, baby! Come on sing with me!

You shook your head, which made him turn his head and laugh.

-You're missing out on a great opportunity to sing with the Sebastian Moy.

He started to slow down, then stopped due to the red light and continued to dance.

-Is it okay if I turn the windows down? Or would you rather listening to the music just between us?

-Yeah, no problem, Seb! Turn them down.

He nodded, then rolled down the windows so the whole world could hear the song playing in his vehicle. Sebastian continued to dance, then turned up the radio as the chorus began to play.

-Look what you've done, I'm a motherf***in' starboy! he sang with enthusiasm

He was adorable.

He knew all the words to this electronic song and we could see the passion he had while singing the lyrics. Singing was one of his ways to relax and take away his stress and the fact that he could do it with you made him happy.

The red light turned into a green light, which made him move forward and then turn his head. The lady in the car next to him, who was staring at him, frowned and looked away while your companion smiled at him and started driving faster as if nothing had happened.

-She judged you so hard, lol.

-Yeah, I know. She saw how well I was dancing. I'm super good when it turn out to dancing. I'm even excellent, I should say!

You put your eyes back on the road while hearing his soft laugh.

-Yeah, you're really good.

He smiled, not knowing if you were joking or telling the truth, but gave you a kiss on the cheek and continued driving, putting his eyes back on the road.

-I impress you every day, admit it.

-I admit it.

The song finally ended, leaving the rest of the roadtrip in an energetic and cheerful mood thanks to the singer. You waited a few seconds to find out which songs were going to come through the windows of Seb's car and smiled. Just a few notes of the music could make you guess that it was your favorite playing.

You started to smile then started to dance, which made your boyfriend smile at your reaction.

-THIS! THIS IS THE BOMB! SEBASTIAN MOY, LISTEN TO THIS MASTERPIECE!!

He huffed with laughter.

-Are you always like that while listening to this song?

You got excited with all the energy and joy you just got from the song that was playing.

-Yeah?!

He whispered, but loud enough for you to hear, and smiled at you:

-Hope you'll be as excited and happy when you'll hear our new song that me and the boys have created.

You nodded.

-Of course, yes.

He tried not to blush and smile. It made him happy to know how much you liked their songs that his group were doing. It made him smile every time.

-I am happy to hear that. I'll tell that to Oli. He loves knowing that kind of stuff.

Half the trip was done singing (screaming) to the songs, having fun and making you both smiling and laughing, telling you memories related to the playing songs in the music playlist, then dancing during the stops at red or yellow lights.

Obviously, the people at the lights judged you a little bit, but it didn't matter to you. You had fun, you felt infinite (not me taking a quote from the movie The Perks Of Being A Wallflower lol-) and you were powerful as if the rest of the world didn't exist.

-Shit! We're going to run out of gas for the car. I forgot to put some on last night.

You looked at the dial showing this information, then saw that he was right.

-How many kilometers do you have left? you asked

-40…? he sighed looking at you. I have enough left to go to the next gas station, surely. At least, I hope so.

-We can surely find a nearby one with the GPS.

He nodded and handed you his phone.

-Here, take mine.

You picked up his phone and saw his wallpaper: a photo of you, around a campfire, wearing his black hoodie. It was from about 3 days ago during your activity with your friends. You smiled. He had taken it secretly.

-What?

-Did you take this photo on the sly?

-Yeah? he said while tried to find where was the problem

-You are cute sometimes.

He smiled, without showing his teeth.

-Sometimes?

-Well, okay, all the time.

You entered his code, then went to maps to find out which gas station was closest to you.

-It says it's 15 kilometers from here. Next exit, you will turn right and then left, left again, right, you go straight, you turn right and then left. Then you will see the bank, that's where you have to go straight until you see a post office on the left, you'll have to turn right. If you turn left, we'll be lost. Then you go straight and we should be at the gas station.

He exclaimed:

-I will never remember that. You'll have to tell me the steps by steps, sorry.

You took his hand and nodded.

-I'm hungry. Do you think we can stop at a nearby fast food restaurant if we come across one? You know, we're not going to backtrack just to get food.. Might as well do it as we pass, right?

He laughed without opening his mouth, but keeping his smile, then looked in the mirror next to his window to check if it was okay for him to change lanes. He put on his turn signal and changed lanes when his eyes crossed several fast food restaurant on the next street.

-Yes why not? What do you want? There are several restaurants on this street. Do you know any good ones?

You said your desires and your preferences towards your cravings and saw him smile. Even though you had food in your bag, the food in this restaurant made your mouth water more.

-You know what's cool, babe?

-What?

-Your restaurant you just told me is right next to a bubba's stand. Do you want us to have some? You know, we're just passing by.. Might as well take some.. It would be crazy to avoid it.

You nodded. He loved bubble tea, just like you.

***

-$24.78, please. Do you want to add a tip?

Sebastian looked at the cashier and nodded.

-Yeah, put 20%.

The cashier added the new price and gave the card machine to your boyfriend.

He gave a slight thank you and put his card on the PayPass and heard the sound meaning the payment had been declined. He tried again another time, then heard the same sound. You saw him frown and sigh.

-I don't understand, it just worked at the other shop. Why isn't it working here?

Sebastian took another of his cards and smiled shyly at the cashier.

-This one should work. I put some money last night.

The same noise from earlier repeated itself. You tried not to laugh.

-What's the problem with these cards?!

He gave the boy in front of him an embarrassed smile and took a third card and tried again upon hearing the same sound.

You gave him your card in his hands without him knowing it was yours, and put him in front of the machine.

A sound of acceptance went through, leaving a smile on your boyfriend's face and a sense of relief. It was starting to take time.

-I swear, my cards are starting to piss me off, he said. They are always in trouble. I have to go to the bank as soon as possible.

He removed the card and stared at his card, frowning realizing it wasn't his. He turned his head slowly, then gave you a small smile, turning back to the young boy who looked like he hated his student job. The cashier closed his window as soon as the payment was finished while Seb began to roll to the next window to get the food and rolled up his window.

-Did you take your card to pay? asked your best friend

-Yeah, your cards didn't seem to work.. I swear Seb, yours are expired.

He rolled his eyes.

-First… They are not expired, they are just denied..

You chuckled.

-Denied since 2021, baby.

He let out a smile, then resumed speaking:

-Second, you know I like to spoil you. Don't take your money to pay. If my card wouldn't had been accepted, I obviously would have taken my money out of my wallet. I make the date, I pay. Am I your sugar daddy or not?

You nearly choked on your bubble tea and smiled shyly.

-Whoa, watch out! Don't choke!

You continued to cough and saw him put his hand on your back, while hearing his soft laugh.

-Hey, are you okay?

-Yeah, I just didn't expect you to say that.

He smirked, then glared at you.

-I didn't know those words had such an effect on you..

You didn't answer and saw him approaching you laughing.

You hid your face in your hands and turned your head.

-Are you shy ? he laughed. Babe, you don't have to be.

-I'm okay, Seb, it just surprised me. You're so predictable, but at the same time, no. I didn't know you were going to say that, that's all. It came out funny.

He kissed you on the cheek and smiled as he came closer and closer to me.

-But am I?

You frown in disbelief.

-I'm your sugar daddy, even if my cards are always denied, right?

You nodded and saw him smile as he kissed you all over your face.

The window finally opened to hand out the food we had ordered, leaving the cashier working there staring at us. I pushed Sebastian into his seat, which made him look to his left as he rolled down his window. He blushed, then took the bag as if he hadn't just been caught kissing his girlfriend in a very seductive way.

-Thanks..

He rolled up his window and drove back to the parking lot so you could eat your order while it was still warm.

-Do you think he saw us? he asked me

-It's certain. You should have seen his face!

You sighed.

-Random question. Does it hurt when you have to bend down so much to kiss me?

He shrugged.

-No. I feel nothing. I find it cute when people shorter than me.

He handed you a piece of his food and gave you a taste. You did the same and continued to eat your meal.

You finally arrived at the gas station to fill the car with gasoline. He got out of the car and started to put the pump in his car, while taking a dose of his vape that was in his pants pocket. It relaxed him to vape from time to time and it helped him manage his stress better. Sure, he had better ways to avoid the stress without vaping, but he respected you by not doing it in your house or in his car when you were around. He stroked his soft brown eyes into yours, then gave you a smile. Moy turned to watch the price increase rapidly based on the number of liters he put in his car. Finally finished feeding his car, he put the filler back in its appropriate place and gave you a little mouth enlargement upwards by opening the door of his car and taking one of his cards.

***

Sebastian's hand had been wandering around your thigh for a while. He glanced at you from time to time, smiling to make sure everything was fine, then gave you a wink that made you look away. He knew you were watching him.

-I have the impression that it's like at the beginning of our relationship, that you still have butterflies for simple gestures.

-Obviously, I do.

He gave you a smile.

-I'm glad to hear that, because I feel the same way about you.

He finally stopped, finally letting you discover the place you were waiting for so long, then turned towards you.

-We arrived!

You finally understood.

It was this place.

Sebastian took the blanket from the back of your seats and the white pillows that came from his bedroom. He made a small smile and gave you one.

-I had to take you here. I remember, when we were still teenagers, you said to me "one of my dreams would be to go look at the stars with my future partner or someone I appreciate." and… i thought i could do it with you.

-You remembered that? you asked

He frowned as if you had just asked the easiest question in the world.

-Yeah? I remember almost all the things you told me, when you were a teenager, that you wanted to achieve. I memorized them. Not you?

-I must had lost hope, because no.

-Well, today I will realize it!

You gave him back his exchange of shy little smiles. It reminded you of high school when you passed each other in the purple and greyish halls of your school, going to your different classes and not really knowing what to do other than saying "hi" and waving hands.

As you were going to go out and open the door, you saw him, scanning your figure and your hand, with a serious look.

-Don't even touch that handle, bubba. Do not even think about it.

You rolled your eyes smiling.

Gentleman.

He ran to his right car door and put his hand on the doorknob. Like in the movies and series, he gave you a flirty and attentive look by putting his left hand behind his back and offering you his right hand so that you can add yours in his.

-M'Lady?

You kissed him on the nose and placed your hand in his.

-A real gentleman we have there.

He smiled and closed the door before locking the car with his keys which he put in his pockets. He ran over to you and put the blanket on the floor. He put his pillow on the end of the big and wide red square of fabric and smiled as he patted the spot next to him for you to come sit next to him. You took a seat next to his body and listened to the sound of silence.

The silence of the stars.

You could hear him breathing and see him looking at you. You loved looking at the stars so much. It's always been a dream to do that with someone.

Okay, maybe not a dream since you almost forgot it, but you had for the last 4 or 5 years, the goal of going outside to look at the stars with someone important to you. And today, you could tick the box to say that it had just been done.

-Do you know how many stars are watching us right now? Sebastian asked tearing through the silence of the starry night.

You shrugged, ignoring the answer, but tried anyway.

-Probably a hundred thousand. I don't know.

You turned to him waiting for his confirmation, then saw him on his phone, looking for the answer.

You laugh.

-Are you really looking for the answer on Google?

He turned around and smiled.

-What? No! I'm looking at the time!

He laughed and turned around, letting see, thanks to the brightness of his phone, a soft and harmless smile on his face.

-Okay, you caught me… I wanted to impress you.

You kissed him on the forehead and sighed with joy.

There you were, under the stars, with your boyfriend, your best friend, your crush since you were 12, under the dark blue ceiling with spots of perfectly imperfect white dots.

-Y/N.

You felt his hand approach your cheek, very gently and slowly.

-Even though all the stars are shining tonight, you're still the brighter one in my eyes.

You rolled your eyes and saw him trying not to laugh.

-Sorry, that was too tempting. It was incredibly cheesy and awkward, sorry.

He moved closer to you and placed his lips on yours.

-But still..

You accepted the kiss and put your hands on his cheeks.

-You're too cute trying to do pickup lines.

-I'm trying to seduce you, what do you mean?

-You already did it.

He kissed you again, a kiss that lasted longer, a kiss filled with more passion than the first, a kiss that meant everything, but meant nothing at the same time, a kiss filled with love and tenderness.

He moaned softly into the kiss, which made you smile, and pulled away.

-You don't know how much I love your kisses, bubba.

-So do it again.

-You won't have to ask me twice.

You smiled at his comment and brought your lips back to his, his hands going to your hips, your hands going through his hair. The kiss lasted longer, was more tender and better than the last, but worse than the next. Your mouths parted, letting the silence of the night return for a few seconds.

-I don't want to do it here, he whispered. Nor in my car. We won't have enough room. Especially since it's a mess backwards. I did car talks with the boys, last week and the floor is a bit dirty..

-Me neither.

He smiled as if he were relieved and took your hand in his asking you softly:

-Do you want to go to my house? My parents aren't home, Oli is gone for the night with Nick and Alex and will probably be home very late. Mateo is at a sleepover with his best friend and won't be back until tomorrow morning. We have the house all to ourselves.

You looked into his eyes and stroked his cheek with your hand. You were about to answer when he cut you off.

-We don't have to, Y/N. I want you to feel comfortable at all times. Don't stress about it. We can watch a movie if you'd rather or-

You cut him off by kissing his lips and putting your hands around his neck, decorated with a gray chain, to strengthen the kiss. He accepted it and put his arms around your waist, crumpling the material of your t-shirt.

You smiled between the kiss and asked for access to his tongue which he accepted while groaning into the kiss as if asking for more.

The love in that kiss could very well be felt.

-Y/N..

He caressed your cheek and withdrew from the gap to catch some air. He got up and took your hand to get up, which you accepted. He smiled softly, unlocked the car, opened the trunk, then put your bag on his shoulders and picked up the blanket and the two pillows before putting them back in his vehicle.

He gave you your bag and closed the trunk.

-Let's finish this at my place, do you want to…?

Your lips clung to his like magnets and immediately withdrew.

-Yes. Let's go.

Hope you guys liked it!!

(i hope it wasn't too cringe or something like that? lol)

[yeowangies]

Blood Stains

CHAPTER II: Eat your enemy

❧

PAIRING: Raditz/Reader RATING: Mature CONTENTS: Attempt at Humor, Canon Divergence AU, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Enemies to Lovers. WARNINGS: Mild Blood, Mentions of Menstruation. WORDCOUNT: 4126

Summary:

You know you can’t ‘tame’ him, he did come here and try to make Goku do horrible things, and he even said this planet was done for. And now that the other two Saiyans are on their way here, he’s more of a menace if he’s still alive by the time they get here. But you also know you can’t control how stupidly attracted you are to him, even if you don’t actually know him. A silly infatuation because he had looked at you like you were the most gorgeous being.

Notes:

Please check the warnings. Thank you!

You can check the tag #*bs if you wanna see the previous chapter.

You’re not embarrassed about telling Raditz you find him hot, but you have practically yelled about it in his face. That had been embarrassing. But thankfully he looks just as awkward when you’re around him for that day, and it’s amusing.

He’s not nearly as intimidating as he had been the moment he arrived at Kame House a few days ago. Then again, you hadn’t been particularly scared of him; you were worried and nervous, but not scared. He does look at you like he wants to murder you whenever you ask him to be a little nicer, but it’s mostly amusing.

Maybe you’ve been hanging out with Bulma too much. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what the fuck is going on, woman?” Raditz asks, the fourth morning after regaining consciousness. It surprises you that he doesn’t seem to remember everything that happened prior to passing out that day.

“Only if you use the magic word.” You singsong in reply, smiling widely.

“Magic word?”

“‘Please’. I also accept ‘pretty please’.” 

Raditz growls, and you expect him to insult you, or even stay quiet and give up, but he does actually speak again, startling you with his choice of words. 

“Tell me what the fuck is happening… Please…” He mutters the last word so quietly you barely hear it.

You try to prevent your smile from turning into laughter. That has been surprisingly easy, but he has been demanding for information the last few days, so he must have been tired of getting no answers. 

“Was that so bad?” You tease him, taking a seat next to his bed. 

“Just talk.”

“Alright, alright…” You sigh, clearing your throat before speaking. “When we got to where you guys were, you were bleeding a lot, but you were still conscious. You were talking to someone through that weird device you had on your head, and I couldn’t really hear anything, but you looked… upset. And Piccolo was about to finish you off when he noticed, but I asked him not to because you were clearly severely injured, there wasn’t any point! And Goku, your brother, asked him to keep you alive too, he said he didn’t wanna have to kill you…”

Raditz has been frowning since before you even started talking, but he doesn’t look any more relaxed when you finish. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Ok, what-”

“What is wrong with you, Earthlings? You want to keep me alive? I could kill you all.”

“Maybe you should chill out with the death threats.” You rubbed your temples. “Look, from a pragmatic point of view, Piccolo can still finish you off in your condition, and you can give us information about the Saiyans that are coming to Earth-”

“Like I would even do such-”

“And Goku did want to keep you alive.”

Raditz visibly balks, though his frown doesn’t go away.

“Why would Kakarot spare me? How stupid is he?”

“He has compassion, he doesn’t like killing anyone. And you’re his brother, I suppose.”

“That’s a stupid reason, he would have killed me too hadn’t I gotten away.”

“Probably. But he also said he wanted to fight you again if he could.”

“Now that sounds like a Saiyan.” He finally states with a smirk. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. But we’ll bring him back.”

“With those magic things that green guy mentioned?”

“Yeah…” You hesitate speaking more, but if Piccolo had mentioned the Dragon Balls, there isn’t any harm in what you’re saying, right? “So, you see, your threats are empty if Piccolo and Goku could almost kill you.”

Raditz rolls his eyes, visibly tense. Well, you do want to spook him, you’re a bit tired of his threats. 

You know you can’t ‘tame’ him, he did come here and try to make Goku do horrible things, and he even said this planet was done for. And now that the other two Saiyans are on their way here, he’s more of a menace if he’s still alive by the time they get here. But you also know you can’t control how stupidly attracted you are to him, even if you don’t actually know him. A silly infatuation because he had looked at you like you were the most gorgeous being. 

It was incredibly idiotic of you to feel like that. But Goku is also a Saiyan, and he might have hit his head when he was little, but if he was good, there must be something good in Raditz as well… Right?

“Besides,” You speak again after a while, making him turn his eyes to your face once more. “I wanna keep you alive too. Like I said before, I actually think you’re good looking.”

His mouth falls open briefly before closing again. 

“The reason why you haven’t killed me, despite all your threats, is because you also think I’m hot, right?” You smirk.

“You think too highly of yourself for such a feeble being.” Raditz replies, staring at you curiously.

“Nah,” You shrug, leaning a little closer and locking eyes with him. “I’m just not stupid. I remember how you looked at me the first time.”

“And how did I look at you, exactly?”

“Like you couldn’t wait to touch me.”

Raditz smirks, to your surprise. He follows your lead in this back and forth with ease, and his eyes travel up and down your body the moment those words leave your lips. Apparently he’s still interested, and it only makes you smile in return. 

“We Saiyans eat our enemies. What makes you think I don’t want to eat you?”

You pull a face momentarily. The sexual implication is still there even if he’s talking about literally devouring someone.

“Who said I don’t want that?”

“You’re bold, girl, I’ll give you that.”

It’s your turn to smirk, feeling something stirring inside you, especially because he still has his own smirk on his face. 

“Why haven’t you brought Kakarot back to life?”

You blink, leaning back on your chair. You know why Goku hasn’t been brought to life yet, but you’re not sure up to what point you can mention that information. It was both Piccolo and Goku, the ones who could defeat Raditz after all. With Goku dead and Piccolo training with Gohan God knows where, it wouldn’t be safe to mention any of that to Raditz at all. 

“We have to find the Dragon Balls first.”

It’s better to lie for now. The Dragon Balls are already at Kame House, but he doesn’t have to know.

“Are those things hard to find?” Raditz quirks an eyebrow, obviously in disbelief. 

“Yeah, they can be anywhere in the world, so it takes a while to find them…” That part isn’t a lie, and you try to keep the tone of your voice as even as possible when you speak, especially as he keeps his gaze intensely fixed on you. “In your state, Piccolo could handle you. But I don’t want him to hurt you even more.”

“You’re a strange woman.” Raditz says with a chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You smile happily; he seems to be mellowing out to you a bit.

Until the next day when you get to Capsule Corp. and immediately feel the whole building shake, and you just know that must have been Raditz’s doing. 

Sure enough, when you get to his room, there he is, standing in his underwear and with a few bandages hanging off his body, right in front of a gigantic hole in the wall that could have only been made with a ki blast. You would know, you have been hanging around Goku, Yamcha, Tien and Krillin for years now. 

“What did you do?!” You yell as soon as you walk in, trying to avoid the debris on the floor. 

“Tested my strength.” 

“By destroying the wall?!”

“Yes, actually, I had to see how powerful I still am.” 

Raditz turns to you with a smirk, and you glare at him, ready to spit more angry words for making this room inoperable now, when he suddenly stumbles backwards against the bed. You rush to his side, grabbing his arm to steady him.

“Obviously not powerful enough.” You look him over as he scoffs before wincing. 

Blood was staining one of the bandages, on the side where Piccolo’s attack got to him. He had practically healed every superficial wound he had, abnormally fast even, but that gaping hole on his side would have been fatal if it hadn’t been treated in time, so it’s obvious it would need more time to heal than the rest of his body. Obvious for everyone, except for Raditz, apparently.

“I don’t need you to say it.” Raditz spits, yanking his arm away from your hands. “I would normally destroy an entire city with a blast like that but I could barely make a hole in the fucking wall!”

“Maybe you should rest more?” 

“I can’t stay here with this mediocre technology!”

“Well you’re gonna have to!”

“You sure have a death wish, girl.” 

Raditz has gotten too close, and he looks incredibly pissed as he stares down at you. You roll your eyes, having heard that threat a couple times before already.

“So do you if you keep threatening me! Where else are you gonna go?!”

“Anywhere is better than here.”

He turns to leave towards the hole he just made, but he only takes a couple of steps before stumbling backwards.

“Raditz, you should stay, you’re still not well!”

You reach for him again, carefully sliding one hand up his arm to guide him to the bed again. You expect him to slap your hand away, but he only groans, in pain and annoyed, when you wrap your other hand around him to help him stay up. 

“What the hell happened?!” Bulma’s voice resonates through the room as she walks in, looking completely stunned and pissed off. 

“Mr. Personality destroyed the wall.” You answer, earning a glare from him that you choose to ignore. Bulma looks furious, but what surprises you is that she’s glaring at you and not Raditz, like she should. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I told you he would do something like this!”

“What?!”

“I told you he was too dangerous to stay here!”

“So you’re the crazy one here after all.” Raditz comments with a smirk, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, shut up or I’ll drop you right here!”

He opens his mouth to retort right back, but Bulma beats him to it.

“Shut up, both of you! You are gonna build that wall back up, you hear me?!”

“What?! Bulma, you have money to buy yourself like a hundred houses! I’m sure you can hire someone better than me to fix the damn wall.”

“…Ok, you’re right.”

You sigh, relieved about how easy it was to get out of that one.

“Just don’t let him break anything else!” She grunts through gritted teeth. Her eyes go back and forth between you and Raditz before she turns to leave. “I’ll get another room for him in the meantime.”

Bulma walks out with the air of superiority she usually has around her, and you stare at her before turning towards Raditz. You still have your arm around his to keep him steady and he’s looking at you curiously as you gently tug at his hand to make him sit down on the bed. 

“You should sit down, you’re still bleeding.” 

He does as you say, to your surprise, wincing when he bends down to sit on the mattress. 

“Human women are strange.” He comments, and you smile at him. 

“Yeah, she got over her fear of you pretty fast.” You reply, your hands going to his torso to get rid of the drenched bandages. 

“You never seemed afraid of me.”

“Maybe… I’m so used to Goku being the strongest man alive that I just knew he’d beat you…”

“He didn’t.”

“He was close anyway.”

“Kakarot is pretty strong, for having grown on this peaceful boring planet.” You chuckle at his words as you start cleaning the blood on his skin. “We are stronger, though.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told…”

“Nothing has changed. This planet is done for, and if Kakarot still doesn’t want to come with us, we’ll just eliminate him.”

You nibble your lower lip, looking down at his injury that is still gushing blood. His eyes are on you, you can feel them boring holes right through you. 

“Isn’t he your brother?” You ask him quietly.

“So?”

“So… why would you want to eliminate him?”

“He’s a disgrace if he still rather stay on this damn planet than join his own race.”

“Well he has a son and a family here…”

“Irrelevant. He’s a Saiyan before anything else.”

You’re not sure you want to continue this conversation, but your curiosity about him and the Saiyans is getting the better of you. You try to be as careful as possible as you choose your next words. 

“Are you saying that Saiyans don’t care about their family?”

You expected a direct answer, a straight up ‘no’, or even an angry ‘it doesn’t concern you’. But Raditz seems to be in deep thought, and you stare at him, intrigued, for a few seconds before you start wrapping brand news bandages around his torso.

He never actually answers, and that just makes more questions pop up in your mind.

*

Why didn’t he answer? Raditz should have been assertive and said ‘no’. Because Saiyans do not care about their family. Vegeta certainly didn’t, at least for what he remembers; he has never even mentioned his father or his mother. 

But Raditz remembers his own family very vividly. His mother, mostly. She was different from other Saiyans, she actually stayed at home to take care of him, and then his brother. That was unusual for their culture, and he realized that when he was young. Most of the kids didn’t even have a relationship with his parents. Vegeta was an exception because he’s a prince, but even then, he didn’t even seem to care much about his own family either. 

He doesn’t want to dwell on it too much, he doesn’t want to remember. It was a stupid question that he didn’t even answer so what was the point? In any case, humans do seem to care about their families, and that has obviously been inculcated in Kakarot’s mind. 

A stupid reason to die for, anyway.

The new room Raditz’s been given is bigger, with an even bigger bed and more machines to connect him to. It angered him. If this race was a little more technologically advanced, he would have healed completely by now. But instead his wound still made him lose blood if he moved too harshly. He wants to leave immediately. The few humans he has interacted with make him feel strange. He doesn’t trust anyone, and luckily for him, most of them seem to be afraid of him. Except you, of course. You never even seemed to fear him, not even when he first arrived on that tiny island. 

Raditz feels stupid being attracted to you simply because of that (and because of those tiny clothes you wore the first time he saw you). The worst thing is that it’s a feeling that isn’t going away. The more you interact with him, the more he wants you. It makes no sense, he has never felt like this, but it’s probably because he has never interacted with anyone other than Nappa and Vegeta for so long to know what long term attraction feels like. And while he’s dying to fuck you, he’s enjoying just talking to you every day. 

Nothing makes sense, and the longer he stays on this fucking planet, the more out of place he’s going to feel. Too bad his pod was destroyed by that damn child, otherwise he would have left by now. 

It gets weirder when one day you walk into the room and Raditz smells blood. And concern is one of the first emotions he feels.

“You’re bleeding.” He says, ignoring your cheery ‘hello’ thrown at him.

“...What?”

“You’re bleeding. I smell blood coming from you.”

Your face turns red from embarrassment, and Raditz looks at you, confused by your reaction.

“You-you can smell that?!”

“Yes, and it’s a pretty strong smell.” He scans you for any visible injury, but he finds none. “Are you hurt somewhere?”

“I-no-no, I’m not!”

“Then where does the smell come from?” 

“God…”

You look even more embarrassed by the second, and Raditz is more perplexed by your reaction. You must be hurt, the smell is strong enough that makes it hard to ignore. He moves to get out of his bed to walk to you when you stop him.

“Wait! I’m not hurt, I swear!” You cover your face with your hands, and he stares at you curiously when you go to take a seat on the other side of the room, the farthest away from him. “Have you never been around women?”

“Of course not. There are hardly any women around in our task force.”

“I see… And there are no Saiyan women alive either…”

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on with you?” Raditz frowns. 

“I-I never had to explain this to a grown man!” You groan, but he keeps looking at you, completely puzzled. “Women bleed once a month…”

“What?”

“It’s normal for us… It means we are old enough to get pregnant.”

Raditz is even more bewildered. Women bleed and it’s normal? 

“What the hell are you blabbering about? Bleed from where?”

“From down there…”

Your face is red like a beet. It takes him a minute to understand that when you said ‘down there’, you meant in between your legs. He stares at you with wide eyes. What’s the purpose of such a bodily function? For a second he considers that you might be joking, but you look way too ashamed to be kidding. 

“Is all that true? Is it normal to bleed from there?”

“For women it is… Our bodies expect pregnancy to happen every month, and when it doesn’t… it bleeds…”

“Every month?!”

“Well… Yeah, but not exactly… Nevermind, you know I’m not hurt now.”

“Your species keeps getting more interesting every time.”

“I guess you wouldn’t know if Saiyan women have that too either.” You’re avoiding his eyes, but you chuckle at his comment. 

“Of course not. I have been surrounded by men my entire life to know anything about women.” Your eyes turn to him with curiosity, and Raditz can’t help but blush a little as well. “I’ve been with women, but I had no idea they bleed often.”

“Maybe it’s just a human thing, like you said…”

“Does it hurt?” He asks, trying to reroute the conversation from his own experiences. 

“Yeah, a lot. But I’m okay.”

Raditz looks you over once more before nodding. 

It takes a minute for the situation to sink in his head and realize that he has been worried about you when you first walk in. 

Things are getting out of hand and it’s starting to freak him out. Why would he worry about you? You’re just a human girl, a cute one, but still, just a small, feeble, human girl. But you’re distracting him way too much, under the pretext of having to take care of him while he heals. 

Just as he’s considering leaving that damn place, with his injury almost completely healed, something happens that makes him reconsider his plan entirely. 

Raditz has a very real, very vivid dream. Way too real, actually. It’s almost as if he could touch your skin and feel how soft it was. He could smell you, sweet and spicy at the same time. And worst of all, he could hear you; you were making the most enticing sounds, moans, gasps and mewls slipping from your lips without a pause. It was a dream with little visuals, all he knows is that you were underneath him, and his hands were on your waist, on your hips and your thighs, your body writhing under his touch, and moaning over and over with every move he made. He knows it was you in his dream, even if he couldn’t actually see your face, but that simply makes him desire you more; he wants to see your face contorted in pleasure by his touch.

When he wakes up, you’re there, looking at him with a concerned look while you ask him if he’s ok, and he has to hide his erection under all the blankets. 

He has to leave. He can’t stay in that place any longer. Or that’s what he tells himself after that, but he regrets not having had the chance to touch you. If he makes a move on you, would you accept him? After all, it’s not like he has shown any regret towards what he did to his brother and nephew. Does he regret it, though?

Probably not. Raditz didn’t want to have to kill Kakarot, but there was no other way. Not that it mattered anyway, since he’s supposedly coming back and all. 

…Is he coming back? It has been weeks since he died, and you said it would take a while to gather those ‘Dragon Balls’. But how much longer would it take?

“Have you found those ‘Dragon Balls’ yet?” He asks you one day, when you’re removing the old bandages from his chest. There isn’t even any point in binding it again, the biggest injury has already healed, and a scar is all that’s left. 

“I don’t know…” You reply, and he notices that you visibly tense. 

“The Dragon Balls, they’re real, aren’t they?”

“Of course they’re real. Why are you asking?”

“It’s been weeks since Kakarot died. Why haven’t you brought him back to life?”

Raditz sees you swallow quietly. 

You have been lying about something. But it probably wasn’t about the Dragon Balls, there wouldn’t be any point in lying about that when Vegeta and Nappa were coming here anyway. So what are you hiding?

“You’ve been lying to me. What’s the deal with these Dragon Balls, girl?”

“There’s no deal!” You breathe in deeply. “I haven’t lied. We have to find all the Dragon Balls, because they scatter around the world after you make a wish.”

“Then why haven’t you brought Kakarot back yet?”

You fidget, looking around the room for a while. Raditz has little patience, especially lately, so he’s on the verge of blasting through the wall yet again, but you speak before he can move. 

“He’s training. In the other world.”

“What?” He stares at you, confused. He can’t determine if you’re kidding or not. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No! I’m serious. He asks us to wait a while to bring him back because he’s getting stronger for when the rest of the Saiyans get here…” 

“Isn’t he dead?”

“Yeah, dead and training…”

“You’re insane.”

Getting up from the bed, tired and annoyed, Raditz moves to grab the clothes you have left for him on a chair. His armor was almost completely destroyed, there’s no use in wearing it again, so he’s settled with these human clothes that seem comfortable enough, and he still has his boots and gloves anyway. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, standing next to him. 

“I’m leaving this fucking place.”

“What? Y-You can’t! You-”

“I what? I have healed already, there’s no purpose for me to stay here.”

“I know, but-”

“That friend of yours can’t stop me now, and Kakarot isn’t here either.” Raditz smirks at you, but you seem unfazed by his words. He takes a step closer, just an inch away from you. “What’s stopping me from killing you?”

“Nothing I guess, but I know you don’t want to.”

“What makes you think that?” 

“Because I’m not an idiot. I know how you looked at me the first time, and I know how you keep looking at me now.”

Growling, Raditz grabs your arm, not nearly as hard as he would grab an enemy’s, but you wince anyway. 

“I’m tired of you making fun of me! You have been tormenting me since the moment I saw you, I should obliterate you right this instant!”

“Then do it.”

Angry, mostly at himself, he lets go of you, throwing you to the floor. He feels something sting in his chest when he sees you yelp then groan in pain when you hit the ground.

He has to go. Whatever you’re doing to him is working and it’s affecting him more than he wants to admit.

Powering up, Raditz blasts right through the wall, flying away as fast and as far as he can.

[kokoverse-au]

Anti-LustTale

(Or Love is not forbidden)

Masterlist

Characters' Masterlist

Let's talk!

*Howdy! Attention please, if you click on the links before reading the story, there may be spoilers! Good reading!*

◈ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━ ◈

Characters

Ynaa (coming soon...)

Sans (coming soon...)

Papyrus (coming soon...)

Asgore (coming soon...)

Undyne (coming soon...)

Alphys (coming soon...)

Monster Kid (coming soon...)

Toriel (coming soon...)

There are other secondary characters.

All Undertale characters are present in this Alternative Universe.

◈ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━ ◈

The story's synopsys

♡ This summary comes from Wattpad, where I published this AU's story in my first language: French. Soon, I'll post all the chapters on Archive of our own, in English. ♡

•| ⊱❦⊰ |•

"Fuck, Sans... If you had killed this human the day you found her, we wouldn't be here..." Undyne whispered to him, filled with remorse and guilt.

She passed his hands behind his back, anti-magic handcuffs surrounding them. Checking their placing, she locked them. Sans could not tell if she was hating him. Perhaps she was blaming herself, too. Perhaps everyone was feeling a little responsible. At least, he hoped so.

"Why did you do that?" she sighed, rhetorically.

"I did it out of love." Sans simply replied.

"That's the stupidest excuse you could have chosen..."

•| ⊱❦⊰ |•

Fast summary of the Story

Corrupted by the Lust, monsters live a hell everyday, sex and immorality being a daily routine. Sans is one of the most luxurious of them and then, the one who had always been the most disgusted by all of that. He lost hope. He lost will.

One day, while going to this giant purple door, he found a package. A human baby. And strangely, Sans felt... at peace.

Now, Sans has something to protect from this world. And he is not going to give up, even when everyone seems to be against him. But it might be easier than he thought: it seems that this little girl can change hearts...

◈ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━ ◈

Universe's specifications

Creator: @kokoverse-au/@kokonattsu-tokui (myself)

Protagonists: Ynaa - Sans

At first, it was only a story "for fun" during a RP with a friend of mine. No true plot. A bit sad but fluff mostly. Cross was in a part of the RP too.

And then the RP stopped. I wanted to write this story on Wattpad and it became : "L'amour est permis malgré tout" in French. (I translated here in "Love is not forbidden" because the true translation "Love is allowed, despite all" sounded... weird for me).

Then, I realized that I could not just leave those plot holes and all, so I just "overwrote" anything.

Cross disappeared because... well... he was useless to the story? My friend loved him so he was in the RP but in my Alternative Universe, he has no reason to be here!

So yeah. It is based on Underlust. I kept the fluff and sad parts. I made things darker (like always). And here we go: Anti-LustTale.

AND NO! THERE IS NO PEDOPHILIA OR UNDERAGE! It's a dad-daughter relationship!

There is a reason behind this name and I think it is pretty obvious. The chapters are quite long, with some Sans' POV.

Now, now...

What should I choose? Happy or bad ending? It's been a while since I invented it but it doesn't really have an end now.

This Universe is located in the Original Multiverse and the Kokoverse. There might be a slight chance that the characters will appear in the Kokoverse events.

◈ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━ ◈

Anti-LustTale/Love is not forbidden (Unique Volume)

◈ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━ ◈

Annoncements

I drew the cover.

Underlust belongs to nsfwshamecave-pb.

Anti-LustTale belongs to me.

[chronicallybloodless]

Heavy to Hold - Chapter 11

Pressure

Pairing: Astarion x enby!tav Status: in progress Rating: Explicit (18+ only) Genre: angst/comfort | slow burn Alternating second-person POV Contains spoilers for the whole game basically TW: it's an astarion fic: descriptions of trauma, abuse, sexual violence, etc. | smut | full tag list on AO3 Read from the beginning: AO3 | Tumblr Listen to the Playlist

Shadowheart was naturally suspicious, and you worried that if she pressed too much you would inadvertently reveal Astarion’s secret. You had already taken to humming tunes to yourself anytime you were around your companions, just in case their tadpoles got a little too curious. A Sharran inquisition would be more than enough to break you.

Read on AO3

Read on Tumblr ↓

Tav's POV

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

You froze in your tracks. You thought the others had all bedded down for the night, providing you an opportunity to sneak out for your nightly engagement with Astarion. But apparently Shadowheart wasn’t as asleep as she had looked.

“Oh uh….just going to stretch my legs a bit before bed, nothing major.” You turned to face her. She was staring at you with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. She knew you were up to something.

“Really? And the fact that Astarion headed out on his walk a few minutes ago is purely coincidence?”

Shit.

“Yep, totally.”

She sighed as she rose from her bed, gesturing for you to keep walking. The two of you perched on some boxes overlooking the river. The sound of the quiet waves was in stark contrast to your rapid pulse. Shadowheart was naturally suspicious, and you worried that if she pressed too much you would inadvertently reveal Astarion’s secret. You had already taken to humming tunes to yourself anytime you were around your companions, just in case their tadpoles got a little too curious. A Sharran inquisition would be more than enough to break you.

“So….is it good?”

“Is what good?”

“Tav, you’ve been sneaking out with him every night for over a week. Clearly you must be doing something that you’re enjoying.”

“Honestly, we’re mostly just talking.”

“Mostly?”

“Well….” You took a deep breath in. There was no way she was ever going to buy that there wasn’t something else going on. “It’s just…..the nights are long out here, and the rest of you need so much more sleep than we do, so….”

“So you decided to screw the least trustworthy member of the group?” She frowned.

“And here I thought Lae’zel was your least favorite.”

“Lae’zel is consistent.” The look on her face was serious—she was genuinely worried about you. “Astarion…..I don’t know. There’s something he isn’t telling us. Think about it, shouldn’t we have heard something about his work as a magistrate if he is who he says he is?”

You of course knew that when he said that he was a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate, he really did mean that in the past tense. He hadn’t been involved in the city’s governance in two centuries, not since he was turned.

“I don’t know about you, but the goings-on of the city council weren’t top of mind for me.” You waved a hand dismissively.

“Still, there’s more to him, I can feel it.”

“Says the lady of secrets.”

“Which is how I know.”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know.” She looked down and began tracing circles in the dirt. “That you’re being careful. That he isn’t using you.”

You trusted Shadowheart a great deal—and she had begun to trust you in turn, revealing details about her worship and her secretive life in the city. Apparently that trust also came with a protectiveness that you hadn’t anticipated. It would be heartwarming if it didn't have the potential to get Astarion killed.

“Shadowheart, I appreciate you trying to look after me, I really do.” She started to say something, but you kept going. “I…I think I’m just enjoying the attention, that’s all.”

You were enjoying it, more than you wanted to admit. The way he hungered for you, in the literal sense, made you feel needed. You told yourself that this was just to keep him safe, just to protect his secret, but the way you felt with him was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Plenty of people had told you that they needed you in your line of work, but they didn’t look at you like he did. When they looked at you, they saw their fantasies. They saw a Drow, a Lolthite, a brutal Matriarch. They saw a body that could fit the shape from their dreams, turning it into a reality for a few hours at a time.

They weren’t interested in you.

But Astarion was.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. Shadowheart was right, he wasn’t always trustworthy. He lied as naturally as breathing and didn’t care who he hurt in the process. He laid on flirtatious compliments and pet names without batting an eye. From the outside, anyone would think that he was manipulating you. It was a classic tale—a worldly noble takes advantage of an innocent, starry-eyed bard.

But they didn’t hear the sounds he made every night. They didn’t feel his grip tighten as he drank you in, desperate for more. They didn’t know what their names sounded like whispered against their own skin like a prayer.

“Fine.” She stood and started walking back towards camp. “But the second he does something wrong, I’ll castrate him myself.”

“Tav…” He whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen around you. You had been sitting wrapped in his arms for a while following tonight’s feeding.

“Mmm?”

“Is….is everything alright?” He sounded concerned. You weren’t hiding your feelings as well as you had hoped. The doubts that Shadowheart has expressed were weighing on you.

“In general? Absolutely not.” You looked towards your intertwined fingers and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “But it’s okay enough for right now.”

One thought kept echoing through your head.

Can I trust that this is real?

[browngurl99]

Title: It's beautiful life, beautiful day

Fandom: Banana Fish

Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji

Tags: Reincarnation AU, First meetings, Stream of consciousness (Kind of?) Pov alternating (it's mostly Ash though), Implied spoilers, Hopeful/Happy ending

Warnings: Mentions of Death

Ao3

It had been a month since Ash landed in Japan and three weeks since he moved into an apartment. He did not buy the apartment. The owner was nicer to him than he expected. Perks of being a foreigner, I guess. He had thought as the owner had handed him the key to the apartment.

He does not know why he came to Japan. His family and friends were not against him wanting to move to Japan. But they were curious. Why? They asked. Ash could not answer. He could not tell them that he himself did not know why he wanted to go to Japan. He wanted to go to Japan for a reason that was a stranger to him. Almost as if someone he dearly knew was here.

Sigh. He should not be questioning his life in the middle of a library. He was trying to find some good Japanese books in order to improve his vocabulary in the language. This was not the appropriate time for this.

He picked a book and sat on a chair to read.

This was the best time of the day for him. Working at a Kindergarten school as a teacher was pretty exhausting. He admired kids but sometimes they could be a headache. When reading a book, He was not working and he could spend time with himself without his thoughts surrounding him like hunters surrounding their prey.

It was raining quite heavily. Ash was glad he brought an umbrella.

A young man made his way inside, his clothes drenched from the rain.

"Excuse me. Do you mind if I'm here till the rain stops?"

"There's no problem with that. Just try to keep quiet." Said the Librarian.

Ash's attention was pulled towards the man for a reason he cannot explain. Usually his surroundings do not bother him much when he is reading.

The man turned to Ash as he felt his eyes on himself.

Maybe it was the Lightning that suddenly struck when their eyes met but Ash felt his heart jump in his chest and his breath being stuck in his throat.

The man possessed black hair. His eyes were brown and big like a deers. His skin was tanned.

Ash felt an amount of Indescribable emotions because of his presence.

He suddenly felt a sort of hesitance. He tore his eyes away from the man and let out a sigh.

What was that?

Ash saw the man's face drop from a corner of his eye. He looked away as well. And sat at a table in the front. 

_

A Foreigner's presence in Japan was not unusual to Eiji since the last few years.

But for some reason he sensed a sort of shock when his eyes fell on that person. Something one would feel if someone who left them long ago came back - Startled, Curious and even overwhelmingly Happy.

He did not even feel this with any of his close friends or the people he had dated. He still could not quite describe what he was sensing, whether it was attraction or remembrance. 

It felt like this was Fate. If it did not rain heavily, then Eiji would not have placed his foot in this Library. In fact, he hated libraries. He did not have any particular reason for hating them, He just did.

Libraries - Silent, very silent, a place where people only bother with books rather than a person. A man could literally pass away in silence and yet, no one would notice. That is how silent libraries were. Not to mention, Eiji was not a fan of silence. To him, too much silence felt like mourning. He liked noises, which always reminded him that there were people around him, including those he loved.

He just needed a shelter to save himself from the rain. He could have stayed under the roof of the cafe or the flower shop, which were right in front of the library. But for some reason he felt like stepping his feet in this library. He walked in without a second thought the moment he saw the library. For a few seconds, he forgot that he hated libraries. 

Eiji could not get himself to look away from him. But when the person looked away, he felt a sudden emptiness in his chest. He did not have any choice but to look away as well.

What is this? Do I know him?

Eiji wanted to go up and start a conversation with this person. But what would he say? He could not find any words to come up with. The words he did not know were stuck in his throat.

Eiji tried to distract himself from him by trying to read a book. He felt a pull towards him. The urge to look at him again kept bothering Eiji.

His eyes read the words in the book before him but his mind focused back to that one person again.

Eiji's subconscious acted quicker than him and before he realized it, he was peeking over the book at that person.

Such captivating eyes. 

The person looked back at Eiji. Eiji gasped ; His throat suddenly felt dry. The green eyes staring back at him shone, almost as if they were glistening with tears.

Is he crying?

He looked away. Again. He lightly shook his head. He resumed reading the book in front of him.

_

Why was I crying?

Ash was bemused. He could not get the person out of his mind, whom he merely made eye contact with. When their eyes met again, Ash resisted to brush off an overwhelming sensation. This sensation felt happy but somehow painful, so much that he felt tears form in his eyes.

He did catch him looking at him. Did that mean he also felt something like Ash did? Maybe.

Ash's thoughts were running in a circle. The same questions were repeating in his head.

Do I know him?

When did I meet him?

Ash let out a hiss in frustration. He could not stop thinking about that person but he also did not have the courage to go up and start a conversation. 

Is he thinking what I am? No, there's no way.

The rain had stopped after 30 minutes. But the man was still in the library. He seemed like he was reading the book before him. But Ash could not hear any sound of a page turning which could be clearly heard from the distance from where he was sat.

Must be a slow reader.

Ash was done with reading. He was supposed to leave but he really did not want to. He hesitated for a moment before getting up.

I think I should just leave

_

Eiji could swear he tried to read and focus on the book before. But reading the words again and again did not make them connect together. His brain was functioning like a kid's. The words were right in front of him but his brain was too busy to comprehend any meaning to those words.

He took off his glasses and put them in a box. It seemed like he was done with reading that book. He got up from the table he was sitting at. Eiji's heartbeat quickened.

Is he leaving?

He looked sad. His brows were knitted and his lips in a thin line. His eyes seemed to say so many unspoken words.

Is he going to come here?

The person turned to the direction which led to the door. He walked with slow and heavy steps. Thus, he stepped out of the library without even taking a glance at Eiji.

Eiji felt empty on the inside. It was like a hole was punched in his chest. He immediately got up. His body moved quicker than his mind.

He ran out of the library. He hoped in his heart to see him. There was also fear that he will disappear before Eiji could reach him.

Please don't go.

_

Ash did not want to acknowledge how a something in his chest felt hollow. He has met so many people ; Some became his acquaintances, friends, he dated some of them and some just remained strangers. That man was different from any of them. His presence was thrilling but somehow comforting at the same time.

He is just a stranger.

He felt as if they had met before. But he was not able to  do anything about it because he could not remember how or when. He could have introduced himself like a normal person but he was unable to find words to speak when he looked at him. And For some reason he cannot explain, he was afraid, very afraid.

Thus, He put a rock on his heart and walked away from the library.

I will probably not see him again

Then, He heard a voice.

"Excuse me?"

Ash turned around. His heart started beating so rhythmically and loudly, a musician could record it and use it as beats in a song. Ash swallowed by nervousness. The Rest of the world was like invisible to him because of a certain stranger.

Black Hair, Big Brown eyes, Tanned Skin - The man he kept stealing quiet glances with at the Library.

It seemed like he was breathing heavily. His eyes said so many words that Ash could not quite comprehend. He was surely a lot more courageous than Ash.

"I'm sorry if this sounds wrong. But Ever since I saw you in the Library, I feel like… we have met before."

Ash was surprised at his boldness. It hit Ash that both of them were lingering in the same bubble of emotions. He opened his mouth to say something but the words he prepared to say kept getting rejected by his own mind. Then, He took a deep breath again and let his words out.

"Would you believe me if I said that I feel that too? I feel like I have met you before this, but I can't remember when or how."

The man's lips curved into a wide smile. It was a very beautiful smile. Ash felt himself silently gasping at that smile. How could a man he never knew make him feel such ineffable emotions?

"Maybe if we get to know each other well, we will remember everything."

Ash did not hate his suggestion. In fact, he wanted nothing more than getting to know this man by his soul.

"I would like that." Ash said.

Ash could feel his heartbeat pick up a faster pace. He could not help but smile. His smile, eyes, overall presence radiated so much warmth. The wind in the atmosphere was pretty cold because of the rain but he made Ash feel warm. He wished this moment could stop forever.

"So, What's your name?"

[ao3feed-todoroki]

We Carry Through, Do What We Need to Do

we carry through, do what we need to do by anonymouslyel

“Ouch!”

Touya snatched his hand away from Keigo's pointing stick that he's taken liking into carrying with him whenever he's teaching Touya.

“What's wrong now?” Touya groaned while still holding his right hand on his left.

Keigo sighed. “You didn't take the spoon across the edge, Your Highness.”

Touya waited for Keigo to pass behind him before rolling his eyes. It's only been a month since they started his lessons just in time for the banquet for his return, but Keigo had already perfected the way he uses the pointing stick. He used it to poke Touya's legs when they learned how to properly bow. He used it to swat Touya's back or hand – gently or not solely depending on how many times the prince made a mistake. Lover or not, Keigo takes his duty as Touya's royal tutor seriously.

Words: 2129, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Rei, Todoroki Fuyumi, Takami Tomie, Kamiji Moe | Burnin, Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko

Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Established Relationship, Established Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, other characters are only mentioned, rei is a queen regnant, its not the main focus, but its important to me that you all know, Fluff, Soft Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi | Todoroki Touya-centric, but mostly in keigo's pov, Prince Dabi | Todoroki Touya, crown prince to be specific, royal tutor keigo

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43722780

[le-amewzing]

Yoctosecond

The Parknight plot bunnies keep multiplying… B3c *Note: This is set after my oneshot, "Zeptosecond," so spoilers for that! I rec reading that first, but this can be enjoyed on its own, too. :3

Fic: "Yoctosecond" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: established!Jess Knight/Alden Parker, Timothy McGee, Nick Torres, Leon Vance, Kasie Hines, & Jimmy Palmer, with some OCs

Rating: T

Words: ~17,500

Additional info: romance, crime/murder/mystery, hurt/comfort, friendship, 3rd person POV

Summary: A case lands almost literally in Knight's lap, giving her and Parker their first test under new circumstances.

      Knight grinned when she saw her exit and signaled, leaving the high-speed lanes behind her for the slower-paced streets feeding into D.C. proper. "Well, I might be a little late, but you'll see me soon," she said aloud.

      "You're returning from a weekend spent catching up with your mother. No rush," the soothing voice in her ear insisted over Bluetooth.

      "Alden, trust me—after nearly three full days of being called 'Jessi' even though she knows I hate it, I'll be glad to file paperwork or, hell, even assist Kasie sort through evidence, if I have to," Knight commented, her grin dimming a little as she replayed the weekend in her mind's eye.

      "That bad?" Parker asked.

      She scrunched her nose up at the memories. "Could've been worse, if I hadn't been able to bitch to you via text." She snorted. "Of course, then she caught me sneaking texts, so I had to fib and say it was work-related."

      He tried to cover it with a cough, but Parker did that scoff-chuckle of his. Clearly, he was amused. "Technically, you're not wrong…"

      Knight laughed. "So, you in the office already?"

      "Not quite. Just heading into the building myself. Nothing's hit my phone and I've had no messages from McGee or Torres, so it seems like another quiet day." There was a catch in his voice, a hesitation.

      Knight didn't need him to voice his thoughts to know what ran through his head right now, because she wondered about it, too. Little more than a month had passed since Parker had popped up to Pennsylvania to assist his FBI colleague, Isler, with an old cold case. At the same time, she and Parker had hit quite an obstacle, trying to come to an agreement about disclosing their personal relationship to Director Vance, given possible chain-of-command issues. Knight had created a solution that Parker was comfortable with, and they'd presented it to Vance when they'd caught him up about their office romance.

      Vance had listened with barely a twitch of an eyebrow, like some professional poker player disguising his every last tell. Then he'd remarked that he'd wondered about the two of them, had kind of seen them coming even…which hadn't been reassuring in the moment…but, most importantly, Vance had heard them out.

      And he agreed to Knight's terms, that she'd remain part of the MCRT but would report directly to Vance instead.

      "However," he'd warned before either Knight or Parker could breathe a sigh of relief, "please note that I'll be thinking of alternatives if I feel things are working to the detriment of the team."

      Just like that, his words were water on their spark of hope. They'd had to exit his office politely while wearing tight smiles.

      But…since then, there hadn't been much for Parker's team to do. It'd been mostly paperwork and some court appearances in recent weeks. That lull was why Parker had encouraged Knight to take some personal time, actually, and accept her mother's invitation to visit. Most of Parker's family knew about the two of them, but Knight was slowly getting around to filling in her folks now that they'd made things Vance-official. Her siblings and father were one thing and liked the good things they'd heard about Parker; but her mother took some prep work, and Knight knew her family would only settle down once Knight stopped keeping her silver fox to herself and started bringing him to family dinners and get-togethers.

      Still… Vance's ominous tone was the biggest thing weighing on her and Parker's minds. She knew now, too, that Parker hadn't scoured the NCIS handbook himself for possible solutions because he was scared of Vance settling on said alternatives, especially since Parker had seen the worst happen to couples in similar situations at other agencies.

      But, all their concerns aside, she was glad they were doing well, and it made her smile, that Parker put up a bravado instead of a wall these days.

      "So, a quiet day, huh?"

      "Yep. You know, the past few days went by in a blink, really, without you."

      Knight rolled her eyes while changing lanes. Again, with the bravado! "You miss me, c'mon."

      "Of course I miss you, Jess." Parker's voice was softer now, closer. Maybe he was in the elevator? "But I also know I'm going to see you soon, so I focused on that instead."

      She blinked twice and gripped the steering wheel, heat flooding her cheeks at his sudden honesty. This smooth talker…! She laughed, though, pleased, because this trend of Parker working to be a little more honest with his feelings had started since they'd made up after that Pennsylvania case. Knight grinned, knowing he'd hear it in her voice. "Keep sweet-talking like that, and—"

      Knight lost her train of thought there, though. Up ahead, where there was more room on the road, she noticed an SUV and a small moving truck swerving and getting too close to each other for comfort.

      She frowned and eased up off the gas, falling back some more like the other cars around the SUV and truck, just in case.

      "Jess?" Parker said only her name. The rest was implied.

      "Oh, yeah, hey. I'm still here. Like, ten minutes away?" Knight glanced in her mirror—good, wiggle room behind her if need be—and then went back to observing the situation dead ahead. "Sorry, it's just some bozos on the road. I'm trying figure out if they're playing chicken or if it's road rage."

      "Can you tell me anything about them? A plate or…? I'll get Metro on it, though I'm guessing a few people might've already dialed 911."

      "Fair point. Either way, I'll probably be late."

      And how right she was: An arm then appeared outside the passenger-side window of the SUV with an object in hand. And five shots took aim at the truck, none of them missing.

      "OH, my God—!"

      "Jess! Was that gunfire?!"

      "Alden, hold on—" Cars around her screeched. Some came to a complete stop, a few bailed or pulled off to the side of the road, and anyone far ahead sped up and floored it to get as far away from the scene as possible. The vehicular chaos and sea of blinking lights in the early autumn morning tried hard to distract her, but Knight wove in and out and pulled up closer to the SUV and truck, both of which still hurtled down the road. She squinted at the backs of the vehicles, trying to glimpse the plates. She could just about make out the truck's.

      Then, not as far ahead as she would've liked, there was a sickening crunch.

      Oh, no.

      An impact.

      "OH, SHI—!" Knight looked up in time to see the truck go airborne and now descend on her with tremendous speed. She yanked the steering wheel to the left and pressed the gas a bit more, laying on the horn to alert the remaining cars around her of the incoming danger as she sailed under the flying truck and narrowly avoided hitting the car that had sent it into the sky to start.

      "JESS!" He was all but yelling in her ear now.

      "Yes, there was gunfire, and there's an accident, too—" Knight swerved, avoiding debris on the ground, and her car skidded out of her control, sending her into the row of jersey barriers.

      Thankfully, she'd had her car inspected this summer, so she knew all the safety features were in working order. But it wasn't the relief it should've been when her airbags deployed. The one in her door popped halfway, partly caught between her door and her seat. But the one in the steering column smacked Knight in the face, slamming her head back against the headrest.

      "OW," she groaned.

      "JESS! Jess, what happened?! McGee, ping Jess' phone right now. Torres, contact Metro P.D.—"

      "Parker, what—?" That was McGee. Parker was in the bullpen by now.

      "Some accident on the way here. She said she was ten minutes away from the office."

      "On it," Knight heard Torres say.

      Knight groaned again and huffed. "Hey. I can hear all of you, you know."

      Parker's phone made a harsh tapping sound. "Jess, we've got you on speaker. Can you tell us exactly what happened?"

      She winced and pressed the heel of her right palm to her forehead. "Someone in the SUV shot at the truck. Truck…" She exhaled, and everything ached. "Truck hit another car and went flying. It didn't hit me, but I crashed into a jersey barrier. I'm all right, guys, honestly. The airbags did their job. A little too well, if you ask me."

      Parker huffed, but she knew this one. It wasn't the short one of annoyance; it was Parker's breathy huff, a rare one that only emerged when he was genuinely worried. "Jess, are you definitely all right?"

      "Really, I'm all right."

      "Knight, can you describe the SUV?" Torres asked.

      She took a breath and concentrated, glad for the shifted focus. "Um…cold gray. Chevy…Suburban, maybe?" She grimaced. "I saw more of the truck's plate than the SUV's, but that's moot. Metro will have the truck's soon enough."

      "Even a partial's fine," McGee encouraged.

      Knight licked her lips. "Both are Maryland plates. The SUV's was…K…N8…" She sighed. "That's all I've got, sorry."

      "No, no, don't be," Parker assured her. "You did great, Jess. A partial plate while it's fresh in your memory is great. Now, where exactly are you?"

      She twisted her head around, thankful her neck didn't protest the movement. "I—I can't see any signs or mile markers." Had her car really spun around that much? Her throat closed up around a sob, and tears pricked the backs of her eyes.

      Parker tapped his phone again; he must've taken her off speaker. "Hey, Jess, hey. It's okay. You'll be okay. I'll make sure of that."

      Even though she couldn't see him, Knight nodded, glad to hear his words.

      "So you don't see any signs—that's all right. Do you remember the last exit you passed?"

      "Mm…" Knight closed her eyes to recall. But, strangely enough, her eyelids felt heavy doing so. She fought this drowsy sensation briefly, answering, "I think it was exit…" But the number was just out of reach, lost somewhere in her brain fog.

      Before Knight caved to that drowsiness, the last thing she heard was Parker barking orders to the others. "McGee, ping her phone now! Torres, get all emergency services there immediately. I'll run the damn plate myself."

      Knight blinked, coming to with a slight start. She glanced at her dashboard and saw that her phone remained in its holder, stuck on the dash. She lifted her arm (ugh, it felt so heavy) and tapped the screen.

      Oh. The Bluetooth symbol still showed. She hadn't disconnected from her headset? Was Parker still there?

      "Alden?" she rasped. Damn, she could use some water right about now, but her water bottle had gone flying in the crash.

      "Jess," Parker said. Her name came out like a sigh of relief from his lips. "Goddamn. You went quiet."

      "But," McGee piped up, "if you really did pass out, it's been less than a minute."

      That was surprising. "Has it?"

      "Yeah," Parker confirmed. "But, Jess, you've got to stay put, stay awake, and stay still. We don't know what kind of injuries you sustained."

      Knight frowned. She'd been through worse than this, but it'd be pointless to bring that up to an overprotective lover and two overprotective friends who treated her like a [delicate] extra sister. "Yeah, gotcha," she muttered. In the meantime, Knight inspected herself and her car.

      She ached all over, for sure, but the only thing that throbbed was the back of her head, thanks to the airbag. Her car had seen some better days but might live to see another one, since she didn't have major frontend damage. Much of the impact had been absorbed on the passenger side, but the force had caused all the airbags to deploy. Honestly, aside from some dented metal and shattered glass, the worst thing about her car was that her things had been tossed around inside.

      All right, so that wasn't much different from usual, but, hey, the car shouldn't be a total loss.

      "Jess," Parker warned.

      "Yeah, yes, I heard you. You don't want me to move around."

      "If the car was hit hard enough to deploy airbags—"

      Knight sighed and grumbled under her breath. At the very least, she unbuckled. She considered setting foot outside, but she took a look at the other traffic first, primarily to evaluate the scene. "…while I can't do much for you on location, I can tell you this is gonna be a helluva scene to process," she remarked.

      He paused before sighing and caving to his curiosity. "How bad?" Parker asked.

      "At least three cars, not including me, the truck, or the car the truck hit." Knight bit her bottom lip, but describing the accident kept her busy. "Another two sedans like mine…plus an SUV. Something small, like a Subaru? But the people from that SUV have gotten out, and they seem okay. They're helping the driver in the car closest to them. I can't see anything about the car the truck hit. But, guys—the truck's in bad shape."

      About a hundred feet behind her, the truck lay in a few large pieces with its back rather deflated. The tires were aimed oddly, so the axles had to be broken. More than that…

      "Something…smells weird." Knight lifted her nose and cracked open her car door, since there was no way of knowing if the engine would turn over so she might work the window, not to mention she wasn't certain turning the car on was the best of ideas right about now.

      The warm, familiar scent wafted her way.

      Knight's eyes widened. "Alden, the truck—"

      The breathy FWOOSH in the background beat her to the punch. Fire licked the hood of the truck and quickly climbed towards what remained of the windshield.

      Thankfully, the sirens closed in then. Easily half a dozen, if not more, emergency vehicles arrived, and two fire trucks took up the rest of the road, parking on either side of the damaged truck.

      "Good, responders have arrived," Parker stated, likely more for McGee's and Torres' benefit. "Jess, do not turn away the paramedics when they come to help you."

      Knight pursed her lips. He knew her too well… "I won't," she promised.

      Torres cleared his throat somewhere near in the background of the bullpen. "You know, Parker…it's okay if you want to meet the responders at the scene. McGee and I have got the rest of this covered."

      Knight rolled her eyes. At this point, McGee was the only person who didn't know about her and Parker, so she appreciated Torres' try at discretion. At the same time— "No," she insisted, "it's busy out here and the responders don't need anyone underfoot."

      Parker's end of the line went silent.

      Uh-oh. Knight's eyes widened, realizing how sharp that sounded and how familiar that sharp tone was. She didn't want to see her and Parker repeat their past mistakes, especially those from a month ago. "Meet me at the hospital instead," she clarified. She ran a hand through her hair, squinting while she scrambled to string a sentence together. "It'll probably be UMC, but I'll call or text if they take me elsewhere."

      She received general grunts of acknowledgment, but Parker did mumble, "See you soon."

      Knight smiled, not minding his gruffness. She noticed a pair of paramedics heading her way in the meantime. "You bet. Gotta go." Then she tapped her earpiece, and the call cut out.

      The paramedics surveyed the car doors and noted she'd already opened her door. The guy in charge donned gloves and, after introductions, also told her to stay put, but he leaned in and felt her back, neck, and head. After, he shined a light in her eyes and gently inspected her face. "You're responding well," he said when he finished and tucked his light back in his bag.

      That cheered her up immensely. "So I can get out of this thing now?"

      "I didn't say that." The paramedic frowned at her and rattled off some stats for his partner to jot down. "What I meant, Special Agent Knight, is that you show no indications of a concussion."

      "But…that's good."

      "It is." He removed a multifunctional tool from his bag and stabbed the airbag with it, so the object deflated the rest of the way and Knight could take a deeper breath. "But you told me while I examined you that you hit your head against the headrest and that you might've passed out for a few seconds. We're gonna want to run some tests just to be sure there's nothing we've missed."

      Knight pouted. That wasn't the news she'd hoped to hear. "So now what?"

      "Now" meant more examining. The lead paramedic ran through a checklist with Knight, where she felt pain and if there were any place she felt nothing, what her pain was on a scale of one to ten. The whole time, he gently prodded her left arm, side, and leg, which were readily available to him. And, finally, he had her carefully scooch forward to do one final check of her back. "…all right," he conceded. "Since you've got no back pain and everything feels correct so far, I'm going to permit you to exit the vehicle, Special Agent Knight."

      She huffed, but she accepted the hand up, especially because she was unsteady on her feet. She didn't wobble terribly and wasn't woozy, but Knight knew she'd been sitting in that position for far too long.

      The lead paramedic hummed. "Put her down for an MRI," he told his partner.

      Knight snapped her head up, eliciting a fresh wave of pain in her head and a new one in her neck, and snatched her hands from his grasp. "I-I don't need an MRI," she scoffed. She gestured to the rest of the scene. "Besides, I'd just be taking up space in an ambulance someone else needs."

      "We've got plenty of ambulances for everyone who needs them," he corrected, marching her towards the nearest one with his partner flanking her, "and you're someone who needs one."

      Resigned to bowing to their expertise, Knight left her car behind. But, on the way to the ambulance, she caught glimpses of the destroyed moving truck. All five shots were grouped together, hitting the driver's side door and, likely, window.

      Knight might not have been certain about her own health, but she knew that that disaster scene was well beyond any mere case of road rage….

      "Jess."

      Knight picked up her head when the paramedics walked her into the ER's waiting room to sign her in. The paramedics and her reasons for being here all but faded when she heard Parker call her name, though, and she hurried to him.

      Parker met her halfway with his arms up but caught himself, no doubt remembering he ought not to crush her in a hug right now. Instead, he rested one hand on her left shoulder and cupped her face with his other. He furrowed his brow. "Jess…"

      She gave him a tight, wet smile. "I've definitely looked better."

      "You were in an accident."

      "I'll be fine," she assured him. Knight rested her forehead against his collarbone, by the open collar of his shirt. "Hey, um, can we sit?"

      Parker obliged, leading the way to a pair of chairs at the corner, where the edge of the waiting room met the hallway. He sat in the seat closer to the hallway, though, putting a barrier between her and anyone or anything that might bump her in passing as well as allowing him to keep an ear out for news from the intake desk. "I take it, since the paramedics brought you here…"

      Knight nodded. She leaned against his right arm, but she no longer felt like closing her eyes. "They want me to go in for a scan."

      She felt him tense under her.

      Knight patted the back of his hand on the armrest. "It's just an MRI, and I'm sure it'll show nothing. That paramedic dude's just being overly cautious, Alden, seriously." She paused. "It's nothing new, you know."

      "…yeah."

      "It's part of agent life. Especially being part of REACT or the MCRT. We see so much more action than anyone else in the agency."

      Parker dragged a hand over his face and scratched the whiskers along his jaw. "Yeah, no, I know." He glanced down at her, and they locked eyes. Same as him saying her name earlier, this look conveyed the rest of his worries.

      Knight offered him a small smile. "Catch me up on things while we wait?"

      He frowned at the obvious topic change but caved. "Metro's processing the scene." He cleared his throat.

      Knight stopped counting the orange dots in the beige fabric of the empty chair across from her and peered up at him. "What?"

      "McGee…just got information back on the partial plate matching the SUV you saw."

      Huh. So it'd been enough to go on. "And?"

      "It belongs to a yeoman."

      Her eyes widened. "Then—"

      Parker nodded. "This is officially an NCIS case. Metro will be handing evidence over after they've finished at the scene. They're doing us the favor of processing, actually, since they heard one of our agents got caught up in the resulting chaos. The body from the truck is on its way to Jimmy as we speak," he added.

      Knight sat up straight and leaned back in her chair while she mulled over the news. "Well, damn. That's a lot more important than being here." She poked him in the arm. "I'll be all right. Go back to NCIS, work the case."

      His frown deepened, though, and he furrowed his brow. Parker turned halfway in his chair to face her. He leaned in close. "Jess. I'm done choosing work over the ones I love. I'm staying put."

      He said it with the same casualness as when he'd admitted to missing her earlier this morning. The notion made her heart skip a beat.

      Behind Parker, a squat nurse cleared her throat. "Jessica Knight?" She held up a patient folder and searched the faces in the open waiting room.

      Parker twisted around to follow Knight's line of sight. But he turned back around and gave her hand a squeeze. It was the best thing in that moment, because Knight's words failed her as she stood to follow the nurse beyond the ER doors.

      The nurse passed her a gown—"Leave it open in the back, Miss Knight"—and a pair of drawstring pants and showed Knight to a room to change. "Everything including bra off, underwear and socks stay on," the nurse added. She passed Knight a bag, too, in which she could place her belongings, and the nurse locked them up for the time being.

      They paused outside the MRI room, where the nurse had Knight stand on an X taped to the floor and slowly twirl. "Metal detector," the nurse said, pointing to the long bar attached to the wall. "Gotta scan you before we put you into the giant magnet. You're clear, though, so let's get to it."

      Knight frowned. She hated hospitals, but she'd definitely had better bedside manner… Nevertheless, she wanted this done and over with, so she kept her mouth shut.

      The nurse directed her into the MRI room, where a second nurse was busy arranging the table. "Please lie down, head that way, feeding into the machine."

      Knight swallowed a lump of anxiety and did as instructed. She'd done this plenty of times before…not necessarily always for her head, but still. The inside of an MRI machine wasn't…exactly…a scary place to be…

      "So, we're going to review a few things, Miss Knight," the first nurse said while the second nurse began tucking her in.

      "Uh, yeah, go ahead."

      "Name, date of birth, allergies, have you ever had an MRI before, what you're here for today…"

      Knight answered everything to the best of her ability, although the last question she couldn't be certain. But, mostly, it was distracting, trying to answer everything while the second nurse stuck a cushion under her legs, tucked wedges by her arms to keep her immobilized, placed a blanket over her, squished earplugs in her ears, and settled the clunkiest pair of headphones over her ears after all that. All of that before they closed the plastic cage around her head to keep her head still for this particular scan. And still the first nurse insisted on talking, even with Knight's hearing dampened by earplugs and headphones.

      "Okay, Miss Knight. This scan will be around ten minutes long. It's going to be really loud, but we need you to be as still as you can manage. Just squeeze this"—one of them placed a squishy call button in her right palm—"if you need to stop for any reason. Do you want music?"

      "What?" Knight asked.

      "Music. Do you want music, in your headphones?"

      Ugh, jeez, that was right, this thing was about to get loud. "Anything loud," she replied, hoping they'd select some rock station to drown things out.

      The nurses walked out a moment later as Knight's bed whirred to life and slowly slid her inside the giant tube that was the MRI machine. Thirty seconds after that, the first nurse clicked a button, and her voice filled Knight's ears through the headphones. "Miss Knight, how you doing?"

      "Ready to go home already."

      "Okay, then let's get to it."

      Knight smiled to herself. Music faded into the headphones…

      …it was jazz.

      Internally, Knight groaned. She had nothing against the genre, but, a minute later, the first scan began, and the high-pitched spins and the low wub-wub-wub of the MRI completely drowned the music out. The second scan was even worse and lasted longer than the initial, three-minute-long one had. Music, headphones, earplugs—nothing could block out the racket of an MRI.

      Knight wondered if this ten-minute MRI weren't drawing out to twenty instead, but it was hard to concentrate and grasp the passage of time while stuck in this stupid machine. At best, all she could do was focus on the headphone cord left running parallel to her body, along her right leg. So, while she couldn't hear the music…she could feel the rhythm, every other song or so, and concentrating on the beat reminded her of a certain someone with drumming and other musical talents waiting for her out in the waiting room. That connection offered her the only solace possible in that moment.

      Suddenly, the MRI machine powered down, and the nurses returned.

      Knight's table whirred once more as it slid out of the MRI, and she stared up at them. "Did I do something wrong? Did I move? I thought I stayed put." Oh, hell, if they had to start all over again…!

      "No, Miss Knight, you're done," the second nurse said as he set about undoing all his setup from before.

      She blinked in disbelief. "Oh." Another thought occurred to her. "How long was I in there?"

      "Closer to fifteen minutes." His smile was fleeting. "It's not a perfect science. Sometimes it takes a little finessing, trying to get a clear image."

      All right… But for what should've been only ten minutes? Once she was free to do so, Knight sat up and swung her legs off the table. She removed the earplugs herself and took the proffered hand down to get to her feet. "So? How did I do?"

      She didn't miss it: The pair of nurses exchanged a glance. But it was the first nurse who was back to answering her this time, and she ushered Knight back to the changing room by way of the lockers holding personal belongings. "We know your case is a rush, so we'll get a report summary over to you soon."

      Knight changed back into her own clothing. The first nurse led her back to the waiting room, and Knight opened her mouth to ask one more time about the MRI—

      —but the nurse must've anticipated it, because her smile was too practiced as she handed Knight over to a befuddled Parker, who stood to meet them. "Take it easy now, Miss Knight," the nurse reminded her, and that was all she was willing to offer.

      Parker kept glancing at her on the drive back to NCIS. He didn't say anything more, although doubt was clear in the lines by his eyes. Hell, even his skeptical dimple made an appearance.

      But Knight knew as much as he did. She'd filled him in on the MRI as well as every little detail of the paramedic's examination, and now she was content to be riding in silence. …well, somewhat. Given what had transpired, her right knee had a new, uneasy twitch, and Knight found herself counting each truck they passed until they reached the Navy Yard.

      They rode the elevator upstairs together after they entered NCIS, and still Parker's eyes drifted to her.

      "No one's said I have to go home, medically," she pointed out. Knight bumped his hip with hers. "So calm down already, Alden."

      "I'll…try," Parker conceded. He brushed her hair back from her face and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before the elevator dinged and the doors parted.

      Knight led the way to their desks, but she saw they had a crowd waiting for them. She cracked a smile and laughed. "Guys, it's not the end of the world."

      Kasie made to jump on her, with Torres blocking their scientist friend at the last second. "That was some James Bond morning you had, Jess!" Kasie stated, throwing Torres a tiny glare and pulling Knight into a giant hug anyway.

      "Hardly," Knight said when she pulled away. She did a fist bump with Torres and offered McGee a hug, too, which did little to lower the frightened eyebrows that seemed to be hiding permanently somewhere in McGee's hairline.

      "Jess, should you even be here?" McGee asked. He looked at Parker, too, as if for backup, but Parker opened and closed his mouth and shrugged off answering.

      Knight narrowed her eyes at both of them. "Yes, I should. Parker said this is our case, and I'm good to go."

      Torres snorted and tried to cover it with a cough.

      She settled him with a dry look, too. "I've got no broken bones and barely any scrapes."

      "Well, yeah, but—"

      "McGee—"

      "Special Agent Knight." From the first landing on the stairs, Vance caught her attention and nodded to her. "Good to see you're well. A word, if you're ready."

      Knight nodded and detached herself from a second, smaller Kasie hug. "I'll be right back," she promised the team. She squeezed Parker's hand surreptitiously in passing and hustled to follow behind the director up the staircase.

      Vance paused by his secretary's desk, asking her to hold his calls for now, and held the door open for Knight. He shut the door behind them and sat down at his conference table, gesturing for her to take one of the open seats, as well. Then he raised his eyebrows. "Color me surprised to see you here, Special Agent Knight. You've had quite the morning."

      Knight gave him a guilty smile, not unlike the one she'd offered her mother this past weekend when caught text-bitching to Parker. "Eh, it takes more than a little fender bender to remove me from the board."

      "A bad case of road rage sidelining half a dozen cars is not what I'd call a 'little fender bender,' Knight."

      She leaned an elbow on the table and pushed her hand through her hair. Knight couldn't withhold her sigh. "Truthfully, Director?"

      He motioned with his hand for her to go ahead.

      "I ache. But I've worked while feeling worse—like the time Torres and I were still healing after the Stargazer. McGee and Kasie both look as if their hugs would keep me in a protective bubble if they could… Parker, too, has expressed his desire for me to sit this one out," she added, though she wasn't happy to report that.

      "And what do the doctors say?"

      She gave him a small, thankful smile. "Nothing much, yet. But no one's said I can't be out in the field. The paramedics felt certain I didn't have a concussion, and the MRI techs had nothing to say either. But my case is a top priority, I'm guessing because of my NCIS agent status or being in the accident or both." Knight shrugged.

      Vance leaned back in his chair. "Well, seeing as, in so far as we know, you have no direct ties to the case other than having the misfortune to be en route at the time of the incident… Currently, until a medical professional offers evidence to the contrary, I have no official reason to order you home or even to your desk."

      Knight cautiously sat up straighter. "For real?"

      He nodded, amusement toying with the ends of his lips. "For real, Knight. Besides, if the rest of your team's preoccupied, it might be nice to have someone not only who was there but who has a clear head working the case."

      She suppressed her laugh but shared in his smirk. "Point taken." She stood and faltered. "Oh, uh—was that all?"

      "For now." Vance stood, as well, and this time his mask slipped, allowing some of his concern to show in his features. "Due to the circumstances and the outcome informing us of your ability to perform your duties, you know the protocol: Your doctor will have the report, but NCIS will receive a copy, too."

      Knight twisted her lips around but nodded. "Nah, I know the drill."

      "I'm glad you're in good spirits, Knight. I'm hoping for a good report for you, you know."

      Her smile was smaller this time. "Thank you, Director Vance."

      He tipped his head to her. "Dismissed, Special Agent Knight."

      Knight exited his office with a little more confidence than she and Parker had had a month ago. Nevertheless, she dragged her heels out in the hall, before she reached the stairs, and took a breath to prep herself. Unsurprisingly, three pairs of eyes followed her as she joined the team back in the bullpen. "Where's Kasie?" she teased.

      "The body arrived when you and Parker came back," McGee explained. "Since Jimmy's done signing for it and is in the middle of staging things in Autopsy, Kasie's hovering on his periphery, waiting for the first bits of evidence to drop."

      "Good." She sidled up alongside him and Parker and motioned to the big screen with a jerk of her head. "So, where are we?"

      The three men shared a look, and Torres cocked his head to one side. "Wait—so Vance isn't benching you?"

      "No, he's not," she announced, a bit smug when she noted the unhappy face Parker pulled. "Guys, if I have to say it a million times more, I will: I am fine." She addressed this to all three of them, but she finished with a hard look at Parker. At least he had the decency to duck his eyes, properly chastised.

      An awkward silence settled on the team for several seconds. McGee found his voice first and aimed the clicker at the screen. "Then, Knight, meet Yeoman Third Class Stefan Delia."

      A Virginia license showing an olive-skinned man with dark eyes and a Marine crop in his early forties flashed, alongside his formal dress photo and several documents pertaining to his history of service.

      "Delia is a third-generation sailor, like his father and grandfather before him. He started out in the mail office, but he switched tracks along the way and became an asset assisting with evals."

      Knight picked out a detail from one of Delia's personnel pages. "That's a bit of a switch. It says there that his grandfather had been a flag writer in his own yeoman days and his dad worked on correspondence. Does he prep officer fitness reports or?"

      Torres shook his head. "It's just the enlisted evaluations. He's got a few commendations on file from superiors, several of whom note that he'd be better off as an instructor."

      "Wait a minute." Knight gestured to the document at the front of the others on screen, beside Delia's photo. "This guy's at sea right now. All we have is that his SUV was used this morning."

      Parker raised his eyebrows and rolled his shoulders. "And now you know about as much as we do, Knight. We're waiting to hear back from the ship as to whether Delia's aboard."

      McGee and Torres returned to their respective desks, and the former typed something on his keyboard. "I'm still waiting for video from traffic cams in that area so we can run facial rec."

      "And I've got Delia's financial records," Torres said with a sour expression. "It's…a lot, but I haven't seen anything so far."

      Knight faced Parker. "Then put me in, coach. Whether Torres and I should split the financial history or you want me digging into something else." Her eyes lit up with another possibility. "Actually, do we have a warrant for his phone logs yet? What if he's called his dad? Mr. Delia might have something useful on his son—"

      "One thing at a time, Knight," Parker interrupted, narrowing his eyes at her, having caught on to her plan. "But I think helping Torres with the financial records is a good place to start. In the meantime, I'll check the status with the ship, see if Delia's superiors know his whereabouts yet." He stood for a little while longer.

      Eventually, Knight relented and shuffled to her desk. Torres crossed the room to hand her a stack of files and spare her a commiserating smile, but Knight wondered if she hadn't walked right into that one….

      Splitting that first task with Torres should've been her first clue.

      Each time Knight completed some task, one of them was right there with another one to keep her in the bullpen—truly, to keep her chained to her desk. After the financial records, McGee asked Knight to check Delia's social media history since the traffic cam footage "finally arrived" and he would need Kasie's help (or, at least her tools) sharpening it to use for facial rec. After finding a horribly bland existence on only two social media platforms and a mostly empty microblogging page, Torres passed her Delia's list of evaluations from the past six months, just in case anything suspicious jumped out to her profiling, REACT-trained brain. After that, Parker asked her to run the VIN on Delia's SUV on his way out.

      "Hold up," Knight said, stopping him and Torres in their tracks. "Where the hell are you two going?!"

      Torres took a half a step back from Parker so their team leader got the full brunt of her piercing stare. "Torres and I…are going to talk with Mr. Delia in person," Parker replied.

      She bristled. Normally, she'd be nonchalant about anything to advance solving the case, and Knight wasn't someone who made a stink about taking credit. But it was her idea and, more importantly, interviewing Mr. Delia would take her outside these damned orange walls…! Knight shot up from her chair, sending the thing slamming into her cabinet behind her.

      Parker frowned but didn't otherwise budge.

      "The VIN's running," Knight snapped. "I'm going to see if Kasie needs any help." And she shoved past both of them before Parker could give her something else to do.

      The elevator ride down to the lab gave her a moment to cool down, for which Knight was grateful. …it also gave her a moment to herself, and Knight's nose caught a whiff of something unpleasant. She held her arm up and sniffed the sleeve of her blazer. Damn. She smelled like a mixture of stale car, hospital antiseptic, and (somehow, faintly) fire, even though the truck hadn't been too close.

      She stepped into Kasie's lab shaking her head. "Kase, I sincerely hope you have something for me to do, otherwise—I confess, I'm just going to hide out here from the Three Worrywarts." Knight stopped short when she noticed her friend's attire. "Lab coat not your thing anymore?"

      Kasie glanced down at her red–orange jumpsuit and laughed. "Oh, I'm not taking to wearing this all the time. I'm just getting ready to head down to the garage. The scene's been cleaned up and Metro believes they got all the pieces, so the truck should be downstairs." One of her eyebrows sank low beneath the rim of her frames. "What's this about you hiding in here?"

      "Parker, McGee, and Torres." She rolled her eyes. "They've kept me busy at my desk all day. Yeah, I'm working the case, but." Knight put her hand on her hip. "I haven't even been allowed to go grab food or refill my water—the moment I stand up, one of them does it for me. Being treated like a fragile doll is aggravating as fuck."

      Both of Kasie's eyebrows rose, since Knight tended to reserve her potty mouth for Wine and Misdemeanor nights. But her grin didn't fade. "Yeah, I've seen it. I went out to lunch earlier and spotted Parker fetching your lunch from the fridge—that was weird."

      "Please don't remind me that he did that."

      "I mean, it was kinda sweet, but it was weird."

      Knight groaned. "Well, until I get that official clean bill of health, I've got to deal with their doting bullshit…"

      "Preach, girl." Kasie locked her computers and grabbed her clipboard, ushering Knight back out the door before she locked the lab up, too, behind them. "Then again, if it were me, I'd have 'em wait on me hand and foot until they just started to regret it."

      At that, Knight shared a matching, devilish grin with her friend. Coming to see Kasie definitely had been the right decision.

      Kasie seemed to think so, too, linking her arm through Knight's on the elevator ride downstairs to the garage. "And, hey, if you really mean it about helping me with the truck—"

      "Oh, yeah, no, I do. Happy to help, and not just for the change of scenery."

      "Good. Because this is one of the largest jigsaw puzzles I've been sent in a while."

      The two women stepped out into the bustling evidence garage, and the faint scent of fire hit Knight in full force, coupled with the chemical smell of fire suppressant. Knight thought to pinch her nose, but her mind's eye flashed back to this morning. She froze for half a beat but shook it off before Kasie noticed.

      Kasie, meanwhile, walked around the truck pieces laid out on tarps on the garage floor and gestured with her clipboard. "As you can see, one of the wheels came off during transport—broken axle. Then there's the back, with the doors off the hinges since the back got crushed. Part of the back side's…over there, along with a mirror," Kasie said, turning around to account for the pieces on her top sheet. "The truck cabin itself is in hundreds of pieces inside, according to Metro." She gestured to a trash bag beside her worktable. "They gathered every last piece of glass from the scene, just in case."

      Knight frowned. Well, this did beat staring at her computer screen and waiting for the VIN details to come back. "Where do you want me?"

      "Grab a spare jumpsuit, if you don't mind. I'll dig things out of the cabin myself, but I'm gonna need help with all the sorting."

      Knight nodded and took a spare navy jumpsuit from the bottom drawer of the worktable. She yanked it on over her slacks and shirt and gathered her hair up before pulling on some gloves and tracing Kasie's footsteps, for now aiding by having a tray or jars at the ready and taking photographs.

      They started with the tire first, since it had come lose. Aside from printing the treads and collecting bits of gravel, it had nothing to offer, and so Knight and Kasie turned to the bag of debris next. Kasie handed her a mask and protective goggles, and then they dumped the bag over an extra-large sift. That, too, was surprisingly fruitless; the debris was mostly glass and a few bits of metal, mainly things that had come off the truck.

      "Not even a single shell casing?" Knight asked, stunned.

      "Metro notes that they didn't recover any," Kasie replied, reviewing the report the local cops had forwarded.

      "But—I heard at least five shots, Kasie. How can there be no shell casings?!"

      Kasie shook her head. "Actually, it depends on the vehicle's speeds. If they were roughly matched and if the shooter's gun wasn't all that far from his own window, then hypothetically the casings could've flown backwards into the SUV."

      Knight gaped at her. "That's insane."

      "That's physics."

      She exhaled, halfway to sighing. "What does Metro's report say?" she grumped.

      "Well, the truck's legit, no stolen plates." She tipped her head at the truck's body, and the motion made her hair buns bounce in the slightest. "It belongs to a moving company: Metro Mainline Moving, owned by a Ryan Foster–Shelley. The driver didn't have I.D. on him, and the accident and fire, uhh, make it a little hard to compare him to his photo on the company website, so we don't know yet if our shooter took out Mr. Foster–Shelley himself or an employee or someone else entirely."

      Knight pursed her lips throughout Kasie's summary. Then a thought struck her. "What about the truck's contents?"

      Kasie shook her head. "Jess, the doors are off the hooks—literally. And nothing flew out at the scene. If they made a delivery this morning, things transpired after that. Or maybe they were on their way to their hub to start the day."

      "So little evidence…" Knight flipped through the digital camera's memory, noting what little they had so far. But the photos of the glass got her thinking again. "No shell casings…"

      "Yeah."

      "…but that doesn't mean no bullets."

      Kasie furrowed her brow.

      Knight glanced at the ceiling before meeting Kasie's eyes. "Jimmy's bound to dig bullets out of the victim's body for you to run. But, Kasie, come on—what are the odds that five out of five rounds hit their target and only their target at that speed? Even a skilled marksman couldn't account for every last variable."

      But Kasie snorted and grinned along with her. "Well, damn, girl! We haven't even touched the cabin yet, but I like the way you think." She curled a finger at her friend to follow her to the cabin. Since the truck wasn't stable enough to be seated upright, the garage techs had left it propped on the passenger side with the driver's side door facing the ceiling. A step stool was open in front of the lopsided vehicle so Kasie had access to the interior. Kasie grabbed a hard hat before climbing inside.

      That left Knight to watch from outside what remained of the broken and charred windshield. She moved one of the spotlights when Kasie flagged her, and that gave Knight a better sense of what was left of the cabin's insides. "See anything?"

      "Aside from the usual junk—trash and too many charging cords," Kasie stated. "Hey, Jess, do you remember at all—could you see if the gun had been aimed down or upward? Even just a little," Kasie added, switching gears from searching the floor to peering at the headrests and starting to inspect the ceiling.

      Knight closed her eyes and concentrated. Briefly, her MRI flitted across her consciousness, but she buried her concerns and focused on the shooting. The road hadn't been bumpy…and she'd only gotten a glance before everything had gone into motion…but… "Maybe…up?" She opened her eyes and sighed. "I can't be certain, though."

      Kasie didn't comment. She went quiet as she continued her inspection, digging out a penlight from her pocket and scanning the passenger seat. Then—she paused.

      "Kasie?"

      "Hold up." Kasie crouched down low on the passenger seat, her back to Knight and barring her friend's view. All Knight heard was thick fabric tearing. The next moment, Kasie struggled to stand and poked her head and arms out the driver's side door. She beamed at Knight and held something shiny pinched between her pair of plastic tweezers.

      Knight grabbed a small evidence dish and squinted at the large prize when Kasie placed it. "A silver-tipped bullet? With a brass jacket?"

      Kasie climbed out of the cabin and hopped down to the floor. "And an unusual caliber, too. That's definitely larger than what you guys carry in your SIGs."

      "Yeah…" Knight met her eyes. "And Navy uses SIGs. So Yeoman Delia wasn't shooting from his service weapon."

      "Or it wasn't Delia who shot our victim in the first place," Kasie finished with a nod. "Somehow, more answers lead to more questions."

      "Maybe more evidence will settle those?"

      At least, they hoped. But they spent the next several hours combing through the truck bits and pieces. The only new item was some lint from the empty back, but Kasie didn't get Knight's hopes up about it, especially since the truck belonged to a moving company. "But at least we have a bullet to run," Kasie assured her when it was time to call it a night and head back upstairs.

      Kasie had just walked Knight back to her desk when the elevator dinged and Parker and Torres returned to the bullpen that evening. Knight briefly met Parker's eyes, but her look wasn't so harsh this time, not with her respite in the evidence garage having eased her tension.

      Parker cleared his throat and addressed McGee first. "How'd the footage turn out?"

      McGee shared a glance with Kasie. "Despite sharpening it to the best of our abilities, we only have a likeness. Running it through facial rec got us nowhere. It's the angles, Parker."

      He nodded. "Nah, I understand. We'll catch a lucky break elsewhere in the case, McGee." He nodded to the women. "Jess, Kasie?"

      Knight inhaled. "VIN came back clean while I helped Kasie go over the truck." She tipped her head Kasie's way.

      Kasie did a double-take and scoffed. "Jess, I cannot take all the credit for this one." She looked at each of the men in turn. "Thanks to her fantastic memory, we were able to find an intact bullet in the passenger seat."

      Torres scoffed, himself. "You're kidding."

      "No, Nick, I'm not."

      Parker furrowed his brow. "Have you run it yet?"

      Kasie shook her head. "We just finished everything with the truck. I'll come in early tomorrow morning and get to work on identifying the manufacturer and weapon then. But I'm with Knight on this one—it's not Navy-issue."

      "So it might not be Delia's gun, just his car," Parker said, drawing the same conclusion they had.

      Knight's knee bounced impatiently under her desk, but she stilled it with her hand, her eyes darting from him to Torres and back. "…how'd it go with Mr. Delia?"

      Parker glanced at Torres, who pulled a face. "Mr. Delia's…a kind man," Parker said.

      "But?"

      Torres scratched the back of his head and put his hands on his hips. "Something—just doesn't sit right about him, y'know?"

      The other three shared a look, and McGee quirked an eyebrow. "In what way?"

      Parker made a so-so gesture with his hand. "The neighborhood's pretty nice-looking. Clean streets. Mostly single-family homes, a few split-levels and double-deckers."

      "But Mr. Delia himself," Torres said. "He and his house look worn. Like. They don't belong? I'd almost expect someone to say something, but neighbors walking by just smile at the man." He winced even though Parker nodded in agreement. "I dunno. It's just an odd atmosphere."

      "And it's something else to press in the morning," Parker said. He motioned at his team with a jerk of his chin. "Day's over, folks. This case will still be here tomorrow."

      Torres and McGee nodded, with the former making a beeline for his desk to turn off his light and grab his bag. Torres was the first to leave, since McGee wanted to tighten up a file first.

      Parker drew near Knight's desk and drummed his fingers on the front. He dropped his volume. "So…are you heading to your place or coming home?"

      Knight pursed her lips. Around him, she met Kasie's eyes, since the scientist had been chatting with McGee on her way out. Kasie's big eyes clearly read "Need a bailout?", so Parker had been overheard. But Knight subtly shook her head. "I'll go home with you," she answered softly as she shut down her computer for the night.

      Parker's shoulders visibly slackened as his tension lessened.

      "As long as you treat me like Jess," Knight continued. She stared up at him, unblinking. "Just—your Jess. Not she-was-in-an-accident-today Jess."

      He nodded, once, twice. The reminder of his behavior today turned him surprisingly docile, and Parker kept respectfully out of her way as Knight got ready to leave. Even in the elevator, he was quiet.

      Knight actually began to worry she'd been harsh with him a few times too many today, since his silence and politeness continued even as they exited the building together.

      But finally it broke on their way out to the car. They were halfway down the aisle when Parker blurted, "Jess, I'm—I'm sorry. Really. For worrying. For being overbearing. I just—I'm sorry."

      At least they weren't butting heads anymore. Still, Knight sighed and gave him half a smile. "Thank you, Alden. I don't want you to be sorry for worrying, though. I like that you care enough to worry. The overbearing part needs work, though, true. But." She waited until they were by his car and she could push him, gently, against the side and lean into him. She jabbed a finger into his chest. "I haven't forgiven you quite yet, okay? I want you to lighten up around this case. I can and will work it. Hell, I even helped Kasie find that piece of evidence a shit-ton faster since she had an idea where to look thanks to me." Knight stared up at him and patted his scruffy jawline. "Understood?"

      Parker nodded once more. "Understood."

      This time, she really felt that she'd been heard, and Knight was ready to start fresh. And what better way to start fresh than with a makeup kiss?

      …there was, of course, makeup breakfast, too, in a way. Rather, it was breakfast as usual, with Parker waking first and then Knight, and them having enough time to make their meal together before sitting down to enjoy it. For the first time in twenty-four hours, Parker basically was back to his old self, and Knight couldn't be happier to have her Parker back.

      But Parker was one worrywart. She still had two knuckleheads at the office to handle.

      Knight and Parker arrived at the office on time after grabbing coffee and pastries, and Knight had a sliver of hope that McGee and Torres would mind their own business since it was a fresh day. But she rounded the wall of the bullpen partially making up her desk area and nearly collided with McGee if it weren't for Parker bracing her by the elbow. "McGee—"

      "Oh, Knight, sorry!" He patted his pockets for napkins and dove to his desk for tissues.

      But Knight took the handkerchief Parker offered instead and dabbed her blouse where some of her coffee had splashed. "In a hurry this morning?" she asked, never minding how huffy she sounded.

      McGee did his fish impression and looked between her and Parker. "Oh, uh, I, uh. No." He glanced at Torres. "I just figured you'd be getting in, so…"

      Knight pinched the bridge of her nose and set her things down. Then she turned and marched between his and Torres' spaces so they each had a good view of her. "All right. Tim. Nick. Yesterday was irritating enough. Stop acting jumpy in the office, or it's gonna carry out into the field, whether or not you realize it."

      Torres opened his mouth to protest, but Knight stared him down. He ducked his eyes instead.

      "So thanks, both of you, for caring, but knock it off now. Or keep it up and you'll be doing my paperwork for the next month so I get to go home early," Knight decided as the idea came to her. Finally, something to make her smile.

      That had Torres protesting now. He scoffed, shot her a look, and glared at Parker. "Hey! Parker, c'mon. She can't really do that, can she? I mean—McGee and I—we both outrank her on this team."

      But Knight caught in her peripheral vision Parker throwing his hands up in surrender and would bet he was busy suppressing his laughter, too. "This matter is for the three of you to settle and I won't stand in your way."

      "I distinctly recall three of us being overprotective yesterday," Torres griped.

      "And I apologized like any decent gentleman."

      Knight smirked at her friend. "You might try that sometime, Nick, admitting you're wrong."

      Instead, he pulled a stink face. Yeah, she had nieces and nephews who were single digits and more mature.

      Yesterday's work resumed, though, and did help redirect the team's attention. Parker assisted McGee in splitting the work of digging into Ryan Foster–Shelley and his moving company, while Torres helped Knight with the task of reviewing in detail Yeoman Delia's history of evaluations. Delia's interactions with other sailors so far were normal, suggesting this was a dead end.

      "If everything's good at work, maybe it really isn't good at home," Parker remarked as the morning wore on.

      Knight lifted her head from another evaluation and set the file aside. "You mean his father's home?"

      "I haven't ruled out another visit. But I'm more curious about that neighborhood in the first place."

      Someone from across the room cleared their throat, but Torres had the bad luck of having no other agents walking past him at the time, so it gave him away. Knight narrowed her eyes at him. "I wouldn't mind meeting Mr. Delia myself," she stated.

      Luckily, before Torres could open his mouth insisting that he be the one to tag along, Parker's phone rang. "Yeah, Jimmy. Got it." Parker nodded to his team. "He's ready for us in Autopsy."

      "I'll come with," Knight said, pushing away from her computer and happy to stretch her legs.

      Parker waited until the elevator doors had closed in front of them. Then he waited an extra beat. "…paperwork for a month, huh?"

      Knight laughed at the reminder and held her head in her hand, trying to hide her grin. "It's a big win. After all, you did apologize, like a gentleman." She slid her eyes his way, grinning when some of that pink dusted Parker's cheeks.

      Parker exited the elevator first, ignoring her soft snickers behind him. "So, Dr. Palmer, what do you have for us?"

      Jimmy did a double-take. "'Us'?" Then he glimpsed Knight by Parker's shoulder. "Ah, Parker, Jess. That saves me a call, actually."

      Knight blinked at him. "It does?"

      "Yeah. But first—autopsy results for Mr. Foster–Shelley." Jimmy respectfully tugged the sheet covering Foster–Shelley partway down, so he missed the quizzical look Knight and Parker exchanged. "Ryan Foster–Shelley was in pretty excellent condition for his forty-two years. He was a little on the tall side but kept in good shape, maintaining a good muscle mass, which makes sense for his line of work. He needed all the power he could get hauling things around for customers in the moving business."

      "So he was well-suited to his line of work," Parker commented.

      "Very much so," Jimmy replied. "Aside from a bout of childhood asthma that was very minor and has been mostly dormant and therefore very sporadic into his adulthood, nothing would've stopped Mr. Foster–Shelley from living a long life." But he gestured at the body on his table.

      "Except for four rounds in his body," Knight stated.

      "Except for four rounds," Jimmy agreed. He passed them his report diagram to view. "As you can see, two bullets entered the thoracic cavity at odd angles. One nicked the bottom lobe of his left lung while the other…" Jimmy winced. "It sort of bounced around off his ribs, guys. It's—It's not pretty in there. A lot of bone shrapnel."

      "We'll take your word for it," Parker said. "So that's two out of four rounds. But your drawing shows one in his arm and—is that his neck?"

      Jimmy nodded. "One lodged itself in his biceps, flattened against the humerus. It's that last one that killed him, though." Jimmy pointed in turn to the entry wounds, ending with the gnarly sight that was the victim's neck. Despite the skin having been broiled briefly by the fire, it looked as though someone had taken a garden tool and raked it against him, clawing the neck open. "This bullet came in and hit his carotid on both sides."

      Knight squinted at the gruesome sight. "Damn…"

      "I pulled all the bullets and sent them up to Kasie for analysis already. Silver-tipped, so not what I usually see in here."

      Knight met his eyes. "Silver-tipped and brass jackets?"

      "I guess so. They were mostly squished or in pieces, though. You'll need to wait for Kasie's report. Why, was there another bullet?"

      She nodded. "Only one missed Foster–Shelley here."

      Jimmy frowned. "Wish I could say he was lucky, but." He pulled the sheet back up over their victim's head, hiding the gore from view.

      "Thank you, Jimmy," Parker said, handing the diagram back. He leaned Knight's way. "I'll head upstairs first."

      Knight furrowed her brow, but she realized why he chose to give her privacy when Autopsy's doors slid shut and Jimmy beamed at her. "Oh. Did the hospital send over my results?"

      The medical examiner nodded and plucked his gloves off, tossing them in the nearest wastebasket. He headed for his desk. "They did."

      "And?"

      "And Director Vance was right to permit you to continue to work. Your scan showed a very minor bruise on your brain—"

      She gaped at him.

      "—but it was smaller than a dime and over a really old injury, too. It'll heal on its own, aided with ice and pain meds, though rest will be best. But you can keep working just fine." Jimmy skimmed the fax before showing Knight. "I'm guessing you've been in similar situations before?"

      It was Knight's turn to frown as she scanned her MRI report, not reading it but searching for keywords. "Prior damage." "Good health." "CLEARED FOR DUTY." "Oh, uh. Yeah… One fender bender in college, but most of the time during my REACT years."

      Jimmy quirked an eyebrow, though that smile didn't fade when she met his eyes. "Everything all right, Jess? Thought you'd be happier, getting the all-clear."

      "No, I am." Knight shook her head and passed her results back. "It's just—"

      He hummed in the back of his throat. "Lemme guess. The mention of the old injury?"

      Knight shrugged with only her right shoulder. "…sort of." She stole a peek at the doors behind her, almost expecting Parker to be waiting for her out in the hallway. "…yesterday was crazy, Jimmy," she admitted. "Parker's good now, but McGee and Torres still have this stupidly chivalrous streak in them, and it's." Knight took a breath and offered the bespectacled man a tight smile. "Making me a bit snappish. So it's not great hearing that maybe they're right to be worried."

      "Jess, it's fine to be snappish. You went through a lot in one morning and then the guys didn't exactly let you forget it." Nevertheless, he waved the MRI report in front of her. "So you've had injuries in the past—you should ask Nick and Tim to divulge some of their close calls one of these days, make them put things into perspective."

      Knight was taken aback. "Well, Torres' undercover work would explain a lot, but hasn't McGee kinda always done his"—she pantomimed typing at a keyboard—"thing?"

      "There are a lot of stories you're missing. And maybe there are some you want to share at some point with us," he added, an encouraging twinkle in his eye. Then Jimmy set the report down and smoothed the front of his lab coat. "But this report says you're fine, and I concur. You also say and show that you're fine. If that's not enough, I could always bring the summary up and explain it to those two in detailed medical-ese to them?" He beamed again, but it was a more mischievous look this time.

      Knight laughed. "No, but I'll keep it in mind, Jimmy." She turned to leave.

      "Hey, Jess?"

      "Yeah?"

      Jimmy's smile was smaller this time. "I know they're overdoing it. But it's just the team's way of showing we care, you know? You're well-loved around here, Jess."

      Knight paused and nodded. "…yeah, I know."

      "You're in a better mood," Parker observed on the drive to Mr. Delia's Virginia home that afternoon.

      Knight nodded, since there was no use hiding it. "Jimmy got the hospital's MRI summary. I'm officially medically cleared to work, so we can all set our minds at ease now."

      He raised his eyebrows and glanced at her when they stopped at a red light. "You didn't want to mention that to Thing One and Thing Two back at the office before we left?"

      "Eh, I'll let them worry just a little bit longer. Besides, I was itching to get out of the office, and you said it was time to pay the yeoman's father a second visit, so." She shrugged.

      Parker did his scoff-chuckle. "Point taken."

      Knight looked at the GPS, which said they'd arrive in half an hour. "We're all still skeptical Stefan Delia's even involved, and we haven't drawn a line from him to Foster–Shelley yet. What if talking to Mr. Delia's a waste of time?"

      He frowned, deep enough that a dimple appeared beneath his whiskers. "…that's already occurred to me, but—something doesn't sit right with that neighborhood, Jess. You'll see for yourself when we get there."

      She noted the slight way his eyes narrowed and found herself frowning in conjunction. "Did the yeoman's ship ever get back to us?"

      Parker groaned. "Not quite. The vessel's locally docked, but a chunk of the crew is on leave, so they're trying to account for everyone. And they're having some comm issues on top of that."

      Knight leaned back in the passenger seat. "Well, look on the bright side, Alden."

      "Yeah? What's that?"

      "At least Kasie promised she'd be done running the ballistics when we return."

      It was bright enough to make him smirk and snicker, and Knight smiled, too.

      The Delias' community in Virginia was a smallish one, but it conjured the word "close-knit" in Knight's mind as she and Parker drove through the main thoroughfare before taking a rotary and weaving through several smaller roads into a sectioned neighborhood. Every building here, business and house alike, was nice and well-kept, and people frequently slowed down or stopped to chat with each other. It didn't matter if they were on foot or in cars.

      "…huh," Knight mumbled, smiling automatically when a stranger waved to her.

      "Sorry, but there's friendly, and then there's too friendly," Parker remarked.

      "What, you think places like this don't exist?"

      "Only in movies and TV shows, maybe."

      Knight stifled a chuckle, thinking him a sourpuss…but, honestly, she didn't disagree. Especially since becoming a cop, rarely had she received such a warm welcome anywhere.

      They made one more turn and rolled down the road at a snail's pace until Parker pulled over in front of a single-level, beige-colored home with dead grass. "We're here."

      She eyeballed the home and fought the urge to gawk. Especially in comparison to the other homes on either side of this one as well as across the street which all looked as if they'd been cut out of pricey, home-design magazines, this house was old and in need of repair. The siding hadn't been washed in a while, the door was worn, the roof was gray (and possibly not genuinely that color), the screen door hung off the top hinge, and the walkway leading from the driveway to the door was broken up by grass and weeds. There supposedly was a car under the tarp in the driveway, but Knight wondered if it were a full car or just parts.

      "Yeah, that was my and Torres' reaction the first time, too. Come on, Jess."

      Knight hustled to join Parker at his side, though both of them had to watch their step approaching the door. Parker tripped on one broken bit of path stone hidden by overgrowth, but Knight caught him in time.

      Parker knocked on the door trim, careful to avoid bringing the screen door down. "Mr. Delia, it's Special Agent Parker from NCIS."

      Footsteps shuffled inside. A moment later, the door cracked open, a beady eye peered at them, and then the door creaked open, revealing a pale, round man with some of Stefan Delia's facial features. "Oh. Agent Parker. Hello again." He cocked his head at Knight.

      "I'm Special Agent Jessica Knight, also NCIS. Nice to meet you, Mr. Delia."

      He smiled at them both and pushed the screen door open to welcome them inside. "Please, come in."

      "Thank you." Knight went first…but instantly wondered if that had been Parker's manners or because he already had experienced this home.

      Stefan Delia's childhood home was just as shopworn inside as it was out, but the stale smell assaulted Knight's nostrils the moment she crossed the threshold. It nearly made her eyes water, but more importantly it reminded Knight of her pre-NCIS days when she thought she'd have a different law-enforcement track as a ranger… That staleness was a particular scent one didn't forget, especially when one got used to earthen smells, like mildew. And mildew that was no longer damp but aired out? That was this staleness.

      Mr. Delia motioned them to the couch in his living room before heading into the next room, presumably for refreshments. That gave Knight a chance to catch Parker's eye.

      But he shook his head. "When Torres and I spoke with him, the guy claimed he sees his son often enough and they have a good relationship."

      "Often enough and doesn't notice all this?" Knight hissed back in undertones.

      "Please, have a seat," Mr. Delia said, returning with some water and crackers arranged on a square serving tray. He took the armchair positioned comfortably between the fireplace and the television.

      Parker remained standing by the end of the couch close to the door, so Knight bit the bullet and sat on the edge of the couch. Good thing, too, that it was the edge, because she could feel a pull behind her; if she backed up even an inch, she'd sink into these ancient cushions.

      "So, you wanted to talk about Stefan some more? I still haven't heard from him, and I couldn't find my copy of his schedule. I really don't remember if it's this month or next when my boy's on leave." His smile dimmed, and he sagged into his armchair. "…I do miss him, though."

      Knight softly cleared her throat. "Special Agents Parker and Torres mentioned to me that it's just you and your son. Has it always been that way?"

      Mr. Delia folded his hands in front of him, his elbows resting on the chair's armrests, and nodded. "Yes. As I told your colleagues, my wife passed when Steffie was still a young boy. At the time, the three of us had my father with us, too, but he went into a home when my wife passed, because I couldn't look after both him and my son on my own. My father"—he lowered his gaze briefly—"didn't last long in the home. So it's been just Steffie and me ever since."

      "I'm sure that's given the two of you a lot of time to bond, but I can imagine it's been incredibly lonely at the same time, Mr. Delia."

      He shook his head. "No. Not in this community. Everyone here treats you like family—like those commercials for that restaurant," the father added with a laugh.

      Knight's eyes flickered to Parker's. Neither of them laughed. "Yeah, we, ah, noticed how friendly people are around here, waving to strangers as if we're locals," Knight commented.

      "That doesn't surprise me. Folks are just polite and extra nice here." Mr. Delia's eyes brightened. "Oh! That reminds me that I have Mrs. Montclair's casserole dish to return to her." He pushed up from his chair. "Uh, if you'll excuse me for just a minute—I want to bring it out here so I don't forget it later."

      "Sure, Mr. Delia. Go right ahead."

      He nodded his thanks, giving Knight the opportunity to scoot closer to Parker and lower her volume. "Maybe we're just not used to having good neighbors, where we come from," she pointed out.

      But Parker stroked his beard. "It's not just Foster–Shelley's background coming up too squeaky clean that doesn't add up. When McGee ran Yeoman Delia's financials, it showed that a lot of his paycheck comes right back home to his father. This isn't a large house, and clearly that money's not going to upkeep. So where's it going?"

      Mr. Delia returned then and set down an ivory crock with a marigold pattern rimming the bottom. Then he laughed. "Ah, almost forgot the lid."

      Parker's phone hummed with a Bandium notification. "Perhaps it's time Special Agent Knight and I got going, Mr. Delia. We've still got a lot to uncover, so we need to head back."

      The elderly man frowned but nodded. "I understand. But I do hope you hear from Steffie's ship soon. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Someone else must've stolen his SUV, Agent Parker."

      Parker pursed his lips but didn't offer the man any condolences. Instead, he tipped his head to him, and Knight thanked him for the refreshments. Outside, Parker wasn't as quiet. "Kasie says she's ready for us, and it's—I quote—'a whopper.'"

      "That all?" Knight asked.

      "No. I had Torres pause with the evaluations to investigate this neighborhood, and he just got back to me. In the past five years, there've only been three reported incidents."

      Knight caught his arm, stopping him in his tracks halfway back to the car. "Less than one crime a year?!"

      Parker's eyebrows hovered high above his eyes, too. "I don't think that makes sense, either. While we should head back soon, we're not exactly done here. I think it's time to have a chat with some of our friendly neighborhood inhabitants."

      They had their pick of faces. The aforementioned Mrs. Montclair lived in the Colonial across the street, the Heymans were out for a jog with their two chocolate labs, Mr. Syed was pruning his camellia bushes next door, and the sisters Duff were playing cards on their front porch up the road.

      Afternoon melted into proper day as Knight and Parker met with each of these neighbors. The Heymans Parker left to Knight, since the couple didn't want to interrupt their exercise for a chat, and she could keep up while interviewing them at the same time, so Parker discussed neighborhood dynamics and plants with Mr. Syed. They reconvened to introduce themselves to Mrs. Montclair, who offered the panting Knight ice water with a lemon slice (served in what Knight would swear was crystal), and they pried themselves away half an hour later to interview the Duffs, who only talked with them on the condition that Knight and Parker played a round of gin rummy against them. The NCIS agents lost, but the sisters took pity and shared their gossip anyway.

      The sky was turning yellow–orange by the time Knight and Parker wound their way back to the car. "This has been one of the most exhausting days on the job by far," Knight mumbled as she slid into the passenger seat.

      "But enlightening," Parker remarked. He hesitated before turning the engine over. "No one claimed to be familiar with Foster–Shelley and said they have no use for a moving man anyway since people rarely leave here… Everyone praised this neighborhood as being the safest in the country. And, when it comes to the Delias, they have nothing but nice things to say."

      "Yeah… But I also noticed how they all feed Mr. Delia, often." Knight furrowed her brow. "I mean, his house is run-down, sure, but it seems…functional? Does he really need handouts?"

      "I thought the same. I mean, I have a couple neighbors in my building I trade dishes with every now and then, but not monthly, let alone weekly. And Mr. Delia's neighbors gave me the impression they have a schedule going, to cover nearly every day of the week."

      Knight buckled up and pulled out her phone. "I'll message McGee and see what he can dig up on Mr. Delia himself. Maybe the son's caught in something that goes back to the father."

      "Maybe…"

      The drive back gave them time to toss around theories about Mr. Delia's involvement. Parker mused that the father's background in correspondence might've given him access to top-secret information, perhaps by accident, that could've made him a good target for blackmail. Knight wasn't so certain Mr. Delia's naval history had anything to do with it, though; he wasn't someone who mentioned his past even to highlight a single achievement—he was focused solely on his son.

      But those theories weren't anything solid, and McGee and the rest met them in the bullpen when they returned at the end of the day. McGee's grim face gave away that he did have something new to share.

      "Don't tell me Delia, Sr., was hiding national secrets in his service record," Knight said when she met McGee's eyes.

      He shook his head. "It's not that. I just heard back from Yeoman Delia's ship."

      Parker's eyes darted to Knight. "Not there?"

      "He's one of several sailors on leave, and no one's heard from him since he left the ship. No one knew his plans, either. His CO said that his usual M.O. is to go see his dad, but Delia didn't bring it up at all this time. And, Parker—yesterday was his last day on leave. Delia's AWOL."

      Parker blew out a long breath and rubbed his brow. "So we have a dead moving truck owner down in Autopsy with no connection to the Delias, a father with neighbors who go beyond 'helpful,' and a missing sailor whose vehicle was used in a crime."

  ��   McGee nodded and Torres huffed from between Jimmy and Kasie beside the taller man. "Rule thirty-nine," Torres grumbled. "No coincidences, man, and this reeks of coincidence."

      "Which makes me the second bearer of bad news," Kasie stated with a wince. "The bullets Jimmy pulled from Ryan Foster–Shelley and Jess and I found in the truck's remains are .45 Colts. Guys, these are rounds meant for an Army revolver, specifically the Colt Single Action."

      "Army?" Parker echoed.

      "And the news gets worse from there. The striations on the intact slug from the truck match a Colt on two other open Metro cases." She pursed her lips. "Since I know you guys by now and figured bringing in Army on this might complicate things, I made a few, low-key, friendly calls to Metro's forensics department myself."

      "Kasie," Knight warned.

      "Don't worry—we're all good." Kasie grabbed the clicker off McGee's desk and brought up the photos from her work on the plasma. "It turns out Metro's been seeing more of these rounds in recent years, to the point where they've dubbed this particular revolver a street weapon for our area."

      The team sighed. "Because anyone can just go and buy one," Knight presumed.

      "Exactly, and most military have transitioned to issuing SIGs these days." Kasie held up a finger. "So the ammunition isn't much of a lead anymore. However." She clicked, and a 3D image of the truck and SVU took up the screen. "I spent the other half of my day working on this mockup using Metro's calculations. I can definitely conclude that, given wind and traveling speed, only someone with extensive gun training could've made these shots."

      "So…we've narrowed our suspect down to the entire U.S. military," Torres summarized.

      Kasie shrugged. "Hey, I work with what evidence I'm given. The rest is Special Agent stuff."

      Except they were running out of "Special Agent stuff" to do. Nevertheless, Parker nodded to McGee. "McGee, if you haven't already, put out a BOLO for Yeoman Delia. Even if he turns out to be a victim, too, in all of this, the sooner we find him, the better."

      That left Torres and Knight to finish with the evaluations and Parker to catch Vance up, as well as touch base with Delia's commanding officers, on the off chance there were any extraneous details they had that could help. But, aside from Knight and Torres confirming that Delia was well-liked by the enlisted and got along well with the younger sailors, they had nothing else new to work that night.

      "And so concludes a second, fruitless day into this investigation," Knight said with a sigh when she got her desk light.

      Parker cleared his throat, though, catching her eye and tipping his head in Torres' and McGee's direction.

      Ah, right. In all the "excitement," she'd forgotten to catch those two up on her good news. "Hey, uh, Tim, Nick…."

      Luckily, by the next morning, McGee was back to his norm and even smiling at her again. Torres would take at least half the day if not a bribe before he stopped grumping at her for their being the last ones she told about receiving her clean bill of health. All in all, Knight finally considered things to be going her way.

      But that seemed like small beans when compared to their case. The BOLO on Delia was out with no hits yet, leaving little else to do. It was enough to make Knight want to pull her hair out—and she had half a mind to do so but settled for burying her fingers in her locks behind her computer screen. "Admit it: We've come up short," she groaned.

      "We've come up short," Torres delivered.

      She picked her head up and narrowed her eyes at him from across the room. He scrunched his nose up at her, grouchy, but he couldn't hold the expression for long, not when he looked as exhausted as the rest of them.

      Parker sighed off to Knight's left. "And you two found nothing in Delia's work files?"

      Torres crossed his arms and shook his head. "No. The guy's well-liked and has no complaints against him."

      Perhaps it was the second night of decent rest…or having several of her own worries off her mind…but hearing Torres say "well-liked" caught her attention. Knight sat up straight in her chair. "Yeah, no complaints whatsoever," she confirmed.

      McGee scoffed gently. "Yeah, no, we, uh, we got that, Knight."

      "No—" She looked from Torres to Parker. "It's like having barely any crime in the Delias' neighborhood. Not that they're related, but. What if Stefan Delia's got his father's charm?"

      Parker furrowed his brow. "…Jess, I'm not following."

      "Their neighbors all know and look after Mr. Delia. What if Stefan Delia has even one or two people like that on his ship?" She met their eyes in turn. "It could be a stretch, but…

      Now he connected her dots. "You think one of the enlisted he evaluated might be a personal connection?"

      "And they might know where Yeoman Delia's gone. Hell, they might even know something about the shooting."

      Parker stroked the dense patch of whiskers on his chin. "That's not a bad idea…" He got up and took the few steps to her desk, holding his hand out. "Let's further split the evals. Torres, give half of your pile to McGee. We're looking for anyone from the Delias' neighborhood or the surrounding towns with familiar surnames." He grabbed his travel notepad from his blazer's inside breast pocket. "And, by familiar, I mean 'Duff,' 'Heyman,' 'Montclair,' 'Syed.' Keep an eye out for close misspellings and mothers' maiden names, too."

      The white noise of the office faded with their constant typing and paper-flipping in progress. There was the occasional gasp and grumble from McGee, cursed to get a papercut with every profile he reviewed, but the team's focus was narrowed to just this task now.

      Then again, even with splitting up sixth months' worth of evaluations amongst the four of them, it wasn't quick work. Knight was more than halfway through her pile when McGee piped up.

      "Tim, I swear, just grab another box of Band-Aids from the supply closet—no one will notice or care," Torres half snapped at their friend.

      McGee shot him a tiny glare. "It's not that." He hit "ENTER" on his keyboard and aimed the clicker at the plasma. "It's this."

      A file and photo flashed onscreen. The official picture depicted an expressionless, young, blue-eyed sailor with the usual Marine buzz cut.

      "This is Douglas Montclair, a Seaman Apprentice aboard the yeoman's ship."

      Parker and Knight tore their eyes from the screen to stare at McGee. "Related to that Mrs. Montclair? From across the street?" Parker asked.

      "So it would seem. Douglas is her grandson."

      Knight frowned. "Why would Delia be in touch with a neighbor's grandson? Just a hometown connection? Maybe an unexpected romance?"

      McGee shrugged. "Could be either. You said you never found much of interest for Stefan Delia on social media, so he could be the type to keep his private life, well, private." He shook his head. "But I can't be sure, either. What I can tell you is that Stefan Delia went to high school with Douglas Montclair's parents, so these two families are closer than they've given us the impression before."

      Parker exhaled, low and slow—it might've been a growl if they didn't have this lead, Knight knew. "Regardless of what kind of connection these two have, they have one. And I'm willing to bet Seaman Montclair's leave status is questionable, as well," he grumbled, turning around for his office phone to dial the yeoman's ship once more.

      "I don't like this," Knight declared later that night.

      Parker froze, clearing away their plates after supper. He glanced at the empty dishes in hand. "You'll have to clarify, because I've never seen you turn down Italian, and you inhaled the cheesy garlic knots like usual."

      She blinked and shook her head. "Oh! Oh, jeez, sorry, Alden." She smiled at him, though the action was twitchy. "I think I left my head at the office."

      "Conversation was pretty quiet tonight over our meal, but I don't mind." He rounded the corner, disappearing for a second to deposit the dishes, and returned with his hands in his pockets. Parker leaned against the corner between the kitchen and the small dining room. "I certainly can't blame you, not when I've been known to do it myself."

      "Yet another hazard of the job," she remarked. But Knight's thoughts didn't dwell on her accident this time. Instead, her preoccupation was tangled up with where their leads had taken them. "I'm just curious about the Delias and the Montclairs."

      Parker quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly, his nonverbal Go right ahead.

      Knight leaned back in her seat and chewed on her lower lip. "Well, I'm more confused about the Montclairs. It wasn't surprising when the ship got back to us to confirm that Seaman Montclair was still on leave."

      "At least he's not AWOL. Yet," Parker tacked on.

      She nodded. "I guess it's more Stefan Delia and his dad that are on my mind." Knight got to her feet and drew closer to Parker. "By all accounts, they're good people who've done good work and have made good friends wherever they go. And yet…"

      "You wonder why Stefan Delia would leave his father to live in just this side of squalor?"

      "Mr. Delia insists that they're in touch and his son visits when he can, and I didn't pick up on any suggestions that he was lying. Not in his tone, not in his body language." Knight frowned. "…I'm not off my game because of the crash."

      Parker, thankfully, nodded. He reached out and trailed his fingers down her right arm, tugging her by the hand to him. "Jess, you've had some of our best ideas on this case. You're definitely not off your game."

      "Then why am I so bothered by the Delias?"

      "Probably for the same reason that it makes me uncomfortable to visit Mr. Delia."

      That snagged her attention. Knight locked eyes with him. "You mean the smell?"

      "Well, smells can be unpleasant, true." Parker pursed his lips. "It's a reminder of my father, Jess."

      "But…you and Roman get along fine."

      "No, we can stand to be in the same room. And we do a lot better when there are witnesses," he darkly joked. He smirked when he added, "It helps that we're both quite fond of you." Then Parker sighed. "But if Dad didn't have my siblings doing their share of caring, I don't know how often I'd be going around to see him. Whether I consciously chose to avoid him or made it an unconscious habit." He paused here and waited for Knight to draw her own conclusion.

      She twisted her lips around, but…since he'd admitted to his shortcomings with his father… Knight heaved a sigh, too. "Yeah, okay. My family's a big basket of surprises, but it's hard to think of the Delias without thinking of my mom." Knight leaned in and tucked her head under Parker's chin. "It doesn't help that I'd literally just come back from three unpleasant days with her."

      "Ah, I doubt they were only unpleasant. Maybe a little irritating, too."

      Knight laughed against his chest, happy when she felt the rumble of his chuckle. She closed her eyes. "No matter the ups and down I've had with her… I can't imagine letting our relationship deteriorate to the point where I didn't know what was going on with her. If that's the Delias' situation," she tacked on, since they still had too many variables in the case.

      Parker pulled his other arm free so he could wrap them around Knight. "No, you wouldn't let that happen, Jess," he agreed. "It's just difficult when pieces of an investigation hit too close to home. But you're not alone."

      "I know." She lifted her head enough for Parker to press a kiss to her forehead. "I've got people looking out for me and caring for me," she added, giving him a light pat on the back.

      At the evidence that he was, indeed, better at caring for loved ones than he sometimes believed, Parker huffed. But he didn't disagree, not in the least bit.

      What was the morning of day four of their investigation, Knight wholly expected to turn stale. Wake up and head in to the office expecting little—that way, one wouldn't be too disappointed when yet another lead dried up.

      Instead, barely fifteen minutes after everyone made it into the office and Torres, Knight, and Kasie fought over the last doughnut hole, McGee's phone rang. All eyes went to him as he scribbled notes down.

      "BOLO's back," he said.

      "Delia or Montclair?" Parker asked, since they'd added the second BOLO the moment they'd learned about Douglas Montclair being on leave.

      "Seaman Montclair." McGee tore the note off the top and grabbed his things. "He was just chatting with some fellow sailors at a bar not far from the docks, and one of the sailors just told their CO that Montclair was heading back, too."

      "Then let's go," Parker said, setting his coffee and treats down to grab his things.

      Knight and Torres geared up, too, but—despite the cleared air—she noted the hesitancy in McGee's and Torres' glances as they went to exit the bullpen. "What?" she spat.

      McGee opened his mouth, but no sound came out, so Torres supplied, "Jess, working the case up until now has been one thing. But are you one-hundred percent? We don't know if Montclair is armed or alone. If Delia shows up, armed…"

      Her hackles rose, her anger from three days ago surging. It didn't help that Parker bit his lower lip. "I'm medically cleared, and you and I are the best shots on this team," she aimed at Torres. If need be, she'd bring up her sniper skills outranking theirs, as well.

      But those reminders were enough for Parker. "No, Jess is right," he agreed. "We don't know exactly what we're heading into, but having all four of us will minimize the chances of a prolonged firefight." He ushered the other three towards the elevator. "Come on, now. And, McGee, get back on the line once you're in the car—alert the boatyard's security that we're coming and that they're to monitor but not interact. I don't want them trying to detain Montclair or Delia until we've assessed that they aren't carrying and don't have anything rigged."

      Torres did a double-take. "You don't think they'd blow up their ship?"

      "Highly unlikely. Nothing suggests it, but we also don't really know their states of mind or whether they're villain or victim. NCIS needs to handle it, first and foremost."

      The boatyard where their ship was docked was less than fifteen minutes away by car. The MCRT passed by the bar Montclair had been in on the way, and Parker and Knight slowed to scan for both the Seaman Apprentice as well as for the yeoman, to no avail.

      Things weren't terribly lively at the docks, thankfully. "But that could change soon. Leave ends today," McGee shared when they arrived and parked along the street to blend in with civilian vehicles.

      Parker and Torres led the way across the street to the docks. "If either one is involved, escaping on a ship is a damn good way to get away with murder—temporarily," Parker griped.

      Knight and McGee followed close behind, and Knight's eyes landed on the boarding deck itself. A sailor came down partway and waved to a friend passing by as well as another just reaching the docks—then he looked up and caught Knight's gaze.

      His face wasn't memorable, but those blue eyes were.

      "Guys, I've got eyes on Seaman Montclair," she warned, picking up her pace.

      The others did, too, but Montclair's buddy turned at the same time. And it made sense why: Yeoman Stefan Delia watched four NCIS Special Agents close in on him, and he paled and unzipped his windbreaker to reach inside.

      "Don't do it, Delia!" Parker bellowed. He and Torres, closer by a yard, brought their weapons up to aim.

      But so had Delia, as well as Montclair in the chaos. Multiple shots rang out, sending the team ducking for cover and sailors aboard the ship shouting in fear. Some of those shots bounced around the shipping containers and nearby vehicles on the dock while others came too close to the agents' feet on the ground.

      McGee provided Knight with cover, so she blasted several rounds at Delia, the closer gunman. But that only served to drive Delia further up the walkway and give him a better vantage point.

      She scowled; she no longer had any doubts about Delia's involvement with Foster–Shelley's death. "Put the gun down, Yeoman Delia! You and Seaman Montclair both! You know exactly why we're here, and you know it's better to surrender."

      "I'm not surrendering!!" Delia promised. With her voice to pinpoint, he readjusted his aim and fired off several more bullets.

      Knight and McGee sank low behind the shipping container. "Any suggestions?" she groaned at her partner.

      "Aside from wishing for them to trip and their guns to fall out of their hands, no," McGee supplied with a frown.

      "Moving on to Montclair, then." Knight peered above the container and noted the way Montclair had positioned himself at the top of the walkway, beyond Delia's shoulder. That would do…

      She only got two shots off, but two did the trick. They hit Montclair in center mass, towards his shoulder, and the young sailor dropped to his knees.

      But the sight of his companion wounded infuriated Delia. He aimed once more but with seething anger in his eyes—

      McGee yanked Knight down out of the way of what would've been a headshot, and she swore she heard both their hearts pounding. He fumbled to pat her arm and met her eyes. "I, uh, I get the feeling Parker would kill me if something happened to you," he remarked.

      Knight's eyes widened at that funny, half-bewildered expression of his. Strange, that nearly getting her head blown off and slow-on-the-uptake McGee finally grasping their scuttlebutt both made her tense up. She dumbly nodded. "Thanks," Knight added a beat later.

      "Jess! McGee!" Parker called out.

      "We're good!" she replied.

      "Enough of this," they heard Torres snarl, and Knight and McGee shared a worried look, hoping he wasn't about to do something stupid—

      But they needn't worry about him, judging by the scuffle up ahead. The agents cautiously came out of hiding and watched as other emboldened sailors, seizing the opportunity with Montclair maimed, jumped on Delia and subdued him. One stuck his head up and shouted down, "Hey, NCIS! He's all yours!"

      Knight, Parker, McGee, and Torres exchanged incredulous looks. But it was Torres' grin that broke the tension and excitement of the last several minutes. "Man, I love this job—especially if that part gets done for me," the cheeky fellow quipped as he led their way up to cuff their suspect.

      "So a yeoman and a sailor from two different generations," Vance said that evening. "It sounds like the opening to a bad joke."

      Knight leaned against the conference table in the director's office while Parker, as usual, stood to her left with his hands calmly in his pockets. She gestured to the report on Vance's desk. "The case file's as complete as it'll get, Director."

      "Your team detained Yeoman Delia and Seaman Montclair first thing this morning," Vance directed at Parker. To both of them, he said, "You've had all day to wrap things up."

      Knight clasped her hands in front of her. "We spent most of the day trying to get Delia and Montclair to turn on each other. Instead, we got everything except that detail."

      "And Kasie says the evidence supports either version," Parker chimed in. "Delia, born and bred in the Navy, admits he's close with his father. But he hasn't been back to his childhood home in a while. When he'd come home, it'd be brief, just to meet at their favorite family restaurant in the town square. So he'd been out of touch with his father's situation."

      "That's where Foster–Shelley came in," Knight stated. "The neighbors were putting on an act. None of the neighbors wanted to admit it before, but we made more calls today and dug a little deeper to confirm what Yeoman Delia learned. Ryan Foster–Shelley took this moving business that he'd inherited from his mother and turned it into a front for his own, sleazy side hustle, shaking people down. It was the classic 'pay for protection' play."

      Vance quirked an eyebrow. "The whole neighborhood knew about this man?"

      "They did. But they covered for his presence better than Mr. Delia could, because almost all the other families have old money to fall back on. Mr. Delia's money had dried up and he was starting to offer up some of what his son would send him on occasion."

      Parker grimaced. "This prick took advantage of Mr. Delia while his son was at sea. The father's basically destitute. He's been living off favors this whole time."

      Their director closed the report and tented his fingers. "Then what does Seaman Montclair have to do with this?"

      Knight glanced at Parker and answered this one. "Montclair really is fond of Delia, since they come from the same place. They're friends. But, when Montclair enlisted and they hung out more and got to talking about the neighborhood, things didn't add up. Montclair never thought of it being all that friendly and he mentioned that his grandmother really pities Delia's father. Delia, of course, asked what Montclair meant by that, but Montclair didn't exactly know. So they decided to dig together. Delia learned Foster–Shelley's name from Montclair's parents and heard at the same time that his father actually had ruined his good will and reputation with the neighborhood. Realizing they were on their own again, just him and his father, Stefan Delia bought a gun off the street and tracked Foster–Shelley down with Montclair's help and info from their other neighbors."

      "So Delia's truck, Delia's father, Delia's neighborhood—but we don't have a shooter," Vance summed up.

      Both agents shook their heads. "They used their service weapons at the boatyard. …Delia did have the gun on him when we took him into our custody," Knight said, "but it was wiped clean. And neither of them will confess and give the other up."

      Vance heaved a sigh, and it was a large, long one that made Parker stand at attention and also had Knight standing up straight. "Well, we can still hold them on their charges for what transpired at the docks this morning, though I wish we could determine the shooter, given that person's actions are responsible for all injuries pertaining to the car accidents earlier this week."

      "Sir?" Parker prompted.

      "It means, I hope Miss Hines will use some of her magic to discover the evidence you need to close your case." He shifted his hands then, moved to folding them lightly atop the report so they could feel the full weight of his gaze.

      Knight shifted from foot to foot. She fought the urge to swallow the nervous lump in her throat, too, but it kept her from blurting the question on the tip of her tongue.

      Perhaps Vance had some magic of his own, being something of a mind reader. He looked from her to Parker and back. "This issue aside, I'm satisfied with how you handled this case."

      She released her breath. Good. "I just wish we had something better to tell Mr. Delia's father," Knight thought aloud.

      Parker hummed in agreement. "Not to mention the Montclairs now, too."

      Strangely, Vance smiled at them. "I'm sure you'll figure that out. Together."

      Knight's nervousness returned. Vance's words caught Parker off-guard, too, given the way his eyes widened.

      "I'd still like for Special Agent Knight to report to me directly, for now," Vance continued, "but…a job well done, you two. You can pass along my sentiments to Special Agents McGee and Torres, as well."

      "Oh, uh. Y-Yeah," Knight said. She turned to leave as Parker nodded, just behind her.

      Yet Vance had one more thing to add, and he cleared his throat first. "By the way, Special Agent Parker, there are exigent circumstances for when one's team…or family," he stated with a nod to Knight, "is in the hospital. You don't need to dodge my calls or have Torres make up an excuse for you in the future. That's all. You're dismissed."

      Knight waited until they made it outside Vance's secretary's office. Then she half turned to Parker, sharing a look with him and breaking into a tiny smile. "You dodged the director's calls? For me?"

      Parker pulled a face, but the pink tinge to his peachy cheeks over Vance letting that tidbit slip gave him away. "I told you," he grumbled, "work doesn't come first anymore." He stared into her eyes, hazel meeting copper. "You're more important."

      The ups and downs of family… The ups and downs of the last several days… All of that melted away when she heard him say those words. Knight briefly rested her head against his chest and chuckled, thinking how far she and Parker had come, getting to this point. And then she pecked his whiskered jawline and linked their fingers before they headed back downstairs.

D8 ZOMG. So… I thought "Zeptosecond" was a story that got bigger and bigger the more I worked on it. And then I had the idea for this beast, its sequel. Sure, it's shorter, but not by much, but I'm beginning to think that's the deal with case fics??? IDK! Case fics are HARD and take so much energy. Point: I drafted this back on September 3rd (can u tell I wasn't even waiting for the season premiere ;P) and I have been working on this steadily, only pausing a few times to work on a handful of other NCIS fics (and ngl a few things for other fandoms, but I digress ;P). But I do hope that this reads like an episode of the show (altho yes, ma'am, I am making up license plates/evidence stuff/yadda, so pls don't mind me c: and take it all with a grain of salt, esp if I have any military stuff confused bc that stuff is confusing no matter how much research I do *LOL*). My main goals here were to show that Parknight has had some growth since "Zeptosecond" (they're working a lot more on their communication and watching their communication since hiccups in the previous story) and to show whether Vance would be happy with the arrangement Knight suggested—and he is! :D Toss in a few headcanons as well as some s20 Easter eggs (and even some Easter eggs for those of you who've read some of my other Parknight fics :3), and we have this nice, long, oneshot. XD So, a couple little deets: A "yoctosecond" is one septillionth (10-24) of a second, making it even shorter than a zeptosecond (all it took was a split-second for Knight to end up in danger here, after all); it's also the shortest lifetime currently measured—in physics, (according to chemistryviews.org), "The elementary particle Z-boson has a mean lifetime of less than a yoctosecond, 0.26ys." That's an incredibly short average! (I'm also allowed to nerd out; I was a STEM major in uni. ;P) When Knight mentioned UMC as the hospital where she might end up, that's a real place! It's United Medical Center; they do serve a lot of military and personnel there. Final thoughts: Idk if I have more in this particular universe, but I'm always getting Parknight ideas, so at least you know you can count on there being more Parknight in general from me! Regardless, always feel free to drop me a line to chat about Parker, Knight, Parknight, or NCIS in general, and if you're a reader/reviewer, then feel free to request, too, after having a glance at my Req FAQs!

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[ao3feed-hawks]

We Carry Through, Do What We Need to Do

we carry through, do what we need to do by anonymouslyel

“Ouch!”

Touya snatched his hand away from Keigo's pointing stick that he's taken liking into carrying with him whenever he's teaching Touya.

“What's wrong now?” Touya groaned while still holding his right hand on his left.

Keigo sighed. “You didn't take the spoon across the edge, Your Highness.”

Touya waited for Keigo to pass behind him before rolling his eyes. It's only been a month since they started his lessons just in time for the banquet for his return, but Keigo had already perfected the way he uses the pointing stick. He used it to poke Touya's legs when they learned how to properly bow. He used it to swat Touya's back or hand – gently or not solely depending on how many times the prince made a mistake. Lover or not, Keigo takes his duty as Touya's royal tutor seriously.

Words: 2129, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Rei, Todoroki Fuyumi, Takami Tomie, Kamiji Moe | Burnin, Usagiyama Rumi | Miruko

Relationships: Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Established Relationship, Established Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, other characters are only mentioned, rei is a queen regnant, its not the main focus, but its important to me that you all know, Fluff, Soft Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi | Todoroki Touya-centric, but mostly in keigo's pov, Prince Dabi | Todoroki Touya, crown prince to be specific, royal tutor keigo

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43722780

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! / Part 19 Here! < This is Part 20!>

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A/N: There’s not going to be an update on Wednesday (it’s the day after my birthday and I’m going to go cry at the space station) lol. The next two parts will be like - alternative timeline/pov/intermission posts. Which will just be to add some depth to the story I guess. Stay safe! See you next Saturday!

* “Get out”

* You can’t have been parked more than five minutes before Jessica prys the driver side door open from the outside

* You’re hunched over the binder in your lap, hurriedly scrawling answers onto the worksheet

* Edward just sighs, moving to get out of the car

* “Wait-“

* You stop him by placing your hand on his shoulder

* Edward grins, so these are boyfriend privileges huh?

* You’re going to pick him over your human friends. Well he would be lying-

* “Give me the answer to the last question before you go.”

* Edward deflates

* Guess somethings don’t change.

* “It’s sin(x) equals 18”

* You nod, quickly writing down the answer

* “Thanks Edward.” You mumble learning over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek

* “Now get out”

* He stands outside the jeep a goofy grin on his face, a hand touching the place your lips were on his cheek

* Well at least some things change

* You don’t miss Jessica’s gaze on you as you put your binder into your backpack

* “So... what do you want to talk about Jess?”

* You don’t miss the incredulous look she gives you

* “So about Edward then”

* “Yeah, no duh”

* You let out a deep sigh

* “Where do you want me to start?”

* How far back does this story even go?

* Probably when you saw him that first time in Denali

* His angular face, and those deep amber eyes

* And those butterflies in your stomach

* “You can start with what happened after you guys left the party!”

* So you’re going to have to fast forward a bit

* “Well he was mad because-you know two against one- if it was anyone else it would have been a traumatic experience waiting to happen”

* She nods, thinking you’re talking about you

* You’re talking about something transitive happening to those boys

* For those boys if they tried something with you that is

* You were pretty far gone, you might have actually killed them if Edward hadn’t come to get you

* Not out of anger, just negligence

* At the very best they might have cried if you weren’t able to control your emotions

* “And then after - we were arguing- and then it was just happening”

* “You guys had s*x?”

* You sputter

* “Geez no! We were kissing, get your mind out of the gutter Jess.”

* “Well I don’t know (Y/N/N), he’s been pinning after you since freshman year a kiss just seems anticlimactic all things considered ”

* Besides you guys have this vibe around you-

* Like a sort of intimacy or something-

* You’ve both always had a sort of closeness.

* Like it was the two of you in one world, and then everyone else in another

* But now there’s a physical closeness to you both

* The kind of vibe people who are sleeping together usually give off.

* She saw it when you were together at the aquarium

* “Nah that’s impossible” you let out a long sigh

* “I’m pretty sure he wants to wait until marriage”

* Jessica sputters at that

* “M-marriage? Holy crap (Y/N)-“

* You nod, it’s such an antiquated notion.

* Especially considering you’re both technically dead

* Honestly, what could be more awkward than a couple of virgins fumbling around in the dark for a few hours on their wedding night?

* “He wants to marry you?!?”

* Oh

* Yeah that would be the normal thing to be concerned about

* “I’m not really sure” you scratch the back of your head

* “You’re my soul mate”

* He had said it so causally, like he was talking about gravity or the weather

* Like it was a universal fact

* The words make your stomach flutter

* Ugh you don’t have time to think about this

* “Well that’s what happened, and now Carlisle is always crying in the house and Esme is already planning weddings. Now come on we’re going to be late for class”

* You get out of the car before Jess can get a word in edgewise

* So this is really happening

* She sighs

* Well she’s be lying if she said she didn’t see this coming

* She knows there’s a lot of people competing for your affection

* Hell even Conner dropped his f*ck boy tendencies for you

* But Edward is the only one who looks at you, and only you

* Jessica’s guilty of it too, she’ll admit that

* You’re her first choice, don’t get her wrong, but if you don’t return her affections

* Well that’s fine, she’ll just date Mike, or Conner, or Bella or whoever

* It’s the same for the rest of them

* Conner will be bummed when he finds out-

* Mostly because he can’t believe he dropped his other side pieces

* But he’ll get over it

* Just like Mike did

* But Edward-

* There’s no one other than you for him

* She see’s it in the way he looks at you.

* If it’s not you, it’s just not any good

* So he’ll wait, maybe even his entire life, until you’re ready to love him back

* A small smile twitches on her face

* She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t happy for you

* “I wonder if anyone will ever love me like that” she mumbles to herself, right before flinching in surprise when you swing the passenger door open

* “Oh my god you scared me!”

* “I scared you?!? Jess this is my car, how am I supposed to lock it if you’re sitting inside?”

* “Oh right”

* You make it to class by the skin of your teeth, taking you seat between Edward and Alice in English

* “So what did you two talk about?” Edward whispers with a small smile while the teacher calls roll

* You roll your eyes

* “Like you don’t know”

* He has a sly smile on his face and you’re not sure why

* Alice starts obviously stifling laughter beside you

* Rude but okay

* Edward leans close to you, so close his lips are only a centimeter away from your ear

* Does he mind?

* Maybe he’s immune to sexual feelings, but being that close is doing things to you

* “I’m actually not waiting for marriage by the way”

* You can practically feel the grin on his face

* You look up to him, your golden eyes meeting his

* You were right he is smiling

* His smile takes a mischievous turn, and you feel his hand slide onto your thigh and give a teasing squeeze

* “Didn’t want you to have any misconceptions” he says with the same sly grin as he removes his hand from your leg and leans back in his chair

* Ah

* So that’s why Alice was laughing

* (Y/N). Exe is broken

Bonus:

* “Hey”

* Bella looks up to see the Jessica standing by her locker as she pulls her books out

* “Oh hey, did you get to talk to them?”

* “Um yeah, it’s about what we were thinking.”

* Bella nods, if she’s sad she’s not showing it.

* “It’s good that they’re together. He loves them a lot, I’m sure Edward will treat them right”

* Jessica nods, Edward does love you a lot.

* She watches Bella try to cram books into her bag

* She is kinda pretty now that she looks at her, in that angular face- snow white kinda way

* She’s no (Y/N)

* And she’s no Mike

* “Hey did you finish the trig homework? I was having tr-“

* But maybe-

* “Hey, Angela and I are going dress shopping in port a, do you want to come with?”

* Maybe they can be friends

* They both liked the same person, so they’ve already got something in common

* Bella looks at the blonde

* To be honest, she’s been holding everyone here at a distance

* In a few years she won’t see any of these people ever again, there’s no need to get attached

* Not after what happened in Arizona

* But still-

* “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

* Guess she never learns

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