#sorry for rambling but the man has done nothing wrong aside from doing his job and he has to deal with all this crap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Botanical Interest - In Bloom

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x florist!Reader

Summary: Steve comes home to you angry after a rough day at work. He made a promise to keep his work life separate but can he keep it?

W/C: 4,103

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past abuse, smut, swearing, alcohol consumption

A/N: Hi there! A part three for our soft mob Steve and his lovely florist. Thank you so much to everyone that has shown interest in my work so far, if you like it please reblog and comment!! You can also check out my other stuff if you haven't yet. Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

_____________

When Steve Rogers had asked you to be his girlfriend you knew there was a weight attached to it. A long talk over a stack of waffles and a couple of beers left Steve with a ‘yes’ and some ground rules.

After the incident in the alleyway you both agreed that he left his work at the door whenever you spent time together. Steve’s profession has made you uneasy since you met him and you two couldn’t avoid it forever.

A month later and you’ve managed to avoid conflict for the most part. Nothing as bold as that day in the alley, just small moments where he’d have to take a phone call, once when he had to cancel your plans for a ‘work incident’. But still he really was trying to keep his work and personal life separate and you appreciated it.

It had bothered you that he had to do those things but it’s not as though your work hadn’t impacted your time together either. Being a florist meant a lot of late nights when you worked events. Wedding season in full swing, every weekend was a busy one for you.

That’s why Monday’s have become almost sacred to you, your one day off a week. You and Steve always spent time together, sometimes you’d go out or stay home and just relax.

This Monday Steve had promised to come over and make you dinner. He’d only ever tried to cook for you once and it had ended with a lasagna burnt so badly you had to open every window in the apartment just to get the charred smell out. You couldn’t wait for him to redeem himself and take him to bed after you both came out of your food comas.

You were cleaning the kitchen when you heard your phone buzz. You had asked Steve if he wanted you to pick up any groceries since you had the day off. Expecting a list you were met with mild disappointment.

Running a little late, doll. 6:30 and not a minute later, I promise. Don’t worry about groceries. I'll get it all taken care of, just enjoy your day off.

You were kinda miffed but at least he gave you a heads up and he was going to get the groceries. You picked your sponge back up and scrubbed away at the counter.

________

Expecting to be let down, you were pleasantly surprised when 6:30 rolled around and your doorbell sounded. You buzzed him up and waited patiently for him at your door.

Steve appeared as he rounded the corner and he looked exhausted, irritated maybe. He carried a lot of tension in his shoulders and his suit jacket was long gone. His tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up to where you could see well toned forearms. You bit your lip thinking of those arms holding you in place in bed.

Maybe we should just ditch the dinner and skip straight to dessert.

He approached you and you leaned up to give him a kiss.

“Hi, honey. How are you?” You greeted him as you shut the door behind you.

He set the groceries down onto the counter with some force and you winced. Okay so he did have a rough day. Do I ask him about it? I don’t wanna talk about his work but I don’t want him to feel like he can’t talk to me about his day.

He sighed and turned to face you, took his tie off completely and ran a hand through his hair.

“Don’t worry about it” he responded as he took a beer out of your fridge.

You were off-put by the abruptness of his answer. Maybe he was just short with you because he didn’t want to talk about work.

You stepped closer and tried to approach him again.

“I-“

“I said don’t worry about it.” Steve snapped, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, visibly annoyed. “I gotta take this”. He slammed the door to your bathroom shut behind him and left you stunned in the middle of your kitchen.

What just happened? You had never seen him so upset aside from when you caught him mid-punch a month ago with Mr. Andersen.

Realistically you knew it wasn’t you he was mad at but you’d never done well with people when they were mad at you. You were engaged years ago to a man that was abusive towards you. Things had started off well like they always do but he became manipulative and he was quick to anger. You were constantly questioned and criticized. He kept you from seeing your friends, even some of your family. It took your friends coming through for you to get you out of the situation safely. Through lots of therapy and flinging yourself headfirst into your business you’ve come a long way but sometimes you had difficult moments.

It couldn’t be helped as your heart began to quicken and you felt heat come to your face from the embarrassment of being snapped at. Unsure what to do you poured yourself a glass of wine and sat down at your small dining table facing away from the bathroom.

You were trying to get yourself to not shut down in response to his change in mood but it was hard. He’s upset and clearly irritated with me already, he probably just wants to go home. Maybe you should just reschedule. Don’t cry, if you cry you’re gonna make it a whole Thing. Don’t cry. He’s not mad at you specifically and it’s not your fault.

In the torrent of your thoughts you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Steve hadn’t spared you a glance or a word as he started unloading the groceries. Angrily placing a jar of pasta sauce onto your counter with a thud and muttering under his breath. You watched him timidly and took another sip of your wine.

He turned to you and took another swig of his beer.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? What did I do?” He challenged.

Not wanting him to be upset with you, you devolved into old ways of over-explaining so you could justify your actions. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the rational part was telling you it’s not your fault he’s angry and you don’t owe an explanation but you were too far gone.

“I, I just, you didn’t do anything you just, um, you just looked upset. I don’t want to make it worse, I’m sorry. I was just looking at you, I didn’t mean to-”

You were cut off in the midst of your nervous rambling by the shrill ring of Steve’s phone. A frustrated growl escaped his mouth.

“I have to take this,” he muttered as he strode back to the bathroom. “I told you not to call me until you had it fixed” you heard him before the closing of the door muffled his anger.

He left you there to stew in your nervousness and self loathing. Five minutes had gone by and the rational part of your brain was slowly taking over. The rational part of your brain was angry. It’s okay for him to have a bad day and not want to talk about it but the way he’s spoken to you and responded to you isn’t warranted. You needed to confront him calmly and if he was still angry you needed to ask him to leave. You can talk to him another time but not while he’s angry. It won’t do anyone any good. Just like you’ve talked about in therapy.

You rehearsed the lines in your head and finished your glass. You heard the door open again and almost threw everything you had been going over in your head out the window. Just breathe. It’s fine, he calmed down so quickly after that time in the alley, he’ll understand.

_____

Steve was angry. With Clint for getting the dates of Pierce’s arrival wrong, with Sam for failing to get the recon they needed to get the drop on him. Even angrier with Bucky for taking all of this out on him when it wasn’t even his fault. But most of all he was angry with himself for letting his work get in the way of your time together. He promised you undivided attention and you deserved it.

He knew how important your day off was to you and after the day he’d been having he couldn’t wait to just come back to you. He just wanted to make some decent spaghetti and melt the worries of his day off with your embrace. He craved the physical comfort he got from you after a long day. The feeling of endlessly sinking into your arms while you held him in bed allowed him to be the vulnerable one for once. He never felt comfortable enough with any of the other women he’d dated to even entertain the idea of being the little spoon.

He always suspected that who he was at work was almost the only reason any of the other women had even gone out with him. Who he was at work was almost a front for the art-loving, touch-starved, hopeless-romantic that he was when he let himself relax. They’d all just wanted this big burly man who was always in charge, a walking wall of muscle and testosterone that they had seen and heard of him to be when he was on the job. But when he was on his own time he just wanted to feel comfort more than anything.

He just wanted to melt into you.

That’s why he was eager to get to you today but the constant calls were cutting him to his last nerve. Bucky was out with Natasha and her parents so he specifically asked not to be called. Being the boss, Bucky was not to be bothered. Being second in command, Steve was.

When he hung up with Clint he exited the bathroom and walked straight past you without a word, knowing you didn’t want to hear about work and talking about it would just make him angrier. He started unloading the grocery bag with maybe a bit more vigor than was necessary.

Remembering he had opened a beer that was probably warm by now he turned to you and grabbed it off the table you were sat at. At this moment he looked up and you had this look on your face he couldn’t quite place. He wanted to know what was up so he asked but you just ended up stammering out a response that didn’t make much sense.

He was trying to listen to you, he really was but he just couldn’t work around this building anger, couldn’t let it go. So of course his phone rings again. And of course he takes it. Excusing himself and locking the bathroom door behind him again he was already forming how to lay into his men on the other line without raising his voice and alarming you too much.

“I told you not to call me unless you had it fixed” he seethed into the receiver. Steve pounded his fist against the porcelain of your sink in aggravation. “I’m not fucking coming down there tonight. I shouldn’t have to be taking fucking phone calls to solve this kinda shit when I’m with my girl. Lose their tail, re-track them, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning. Don’t call me again unless someone fucking gets shot”, Steve hung up abruptly and took a deep breath.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say to you so he just waited a minute to collect himself. He took another deep breath and readied himself to go back to you.

_________

You were sitting quietly at the table, silently digging your nails into your palm as you tensed your fist. Steve had exited the bathroom and taken a seat across from you. You decided to see if he’d speak first and waited.

A beat of silence and you sighed deeply, readying yourself to talk to him like you’d planned.

“Steve, I understand you’re having a bad day and it’s probably work related. That being said, just because you’re mad at someone else doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me” You blew out a shaky breath, wanting to finish before you lost your nerve and before he interjected. You didn’t dare make eye contact. Only stared at his hands on the table in front of you.

“If- if you’re mad don’t take it out on me, and if you feel like you can’t control that anger I don’t want you around me while you feel that way. If you want to talk through it or just work past it then I’m here. But if you’re going to snap at me again and just be mad then you need to leave. It’s not fair to me.”

I’m pretty sure Dr. Danforth would be fucking proud of me right now. Straight to the point but respectful, just like we talked about. And even if Steve’s mad, you’re in control. You’re doing great.

You braved a peek at his face at this point and he looked stunned himself. He’s probably never been spoken to like that in his life, being the second in command and all. You watched his brows bunch together in what you hoped was thought and not frustration for you and waited for him to speak.

________

Oh. Steve was a little struck by what you’d said. Have I been that bad? She’s shaking like a leaf, of course I must have been that bad. He’d had no idea that he even snapped at you, that’s how wrapped up in his own business and his head he was. He never meant to take it out on you, didn’t even realize he had. Sometimes it was like he was so deep into his work life he couldn’t take himself out of it. But he wanted to try, for you.

He remained silent while he pulled the chair across from you out and took a seat. He looked up to meet your gaze only to find you staring at your hands. You were digging your nails into your palms so he brought one large warm hand to cover yours and brought the other up to your face gently to get you to look at him. You flinched away from him and he felt another strike of surprise, but also maybe a hint of shame. Is she afraid of me? Normally Steve likes when people are afraid of him, makes his job easier, but he’d never want that from you.

“Sweetheart”, Steve’s voice was just above a whisper when you finally looked up at him.

“I’m… sorry, that’s really it I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I didn’t even realize I did.” He apologized.

____________

You could feel your tears subsiding and finally brought yourself to look at him. He looked just as exhausted before, just a little bit more sad. You imagined it was probably easy for him to get swept up in who he was at work so it must be hard to separate himself from it since it requires so much from him. You don’t want him to feel bad for being upset, you just want him to be more aware of himself and to not take things out on you.

“Steve, I know we said you wouldn’t talk about work when we’re together but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me if you have a bad day. Maybe you can keep it vague but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say anything or be yourself, unless of course you don’t want to, I don’t want to force you to talk about anything either. When you snapped at me I just sorta shut down” You explained.

Steve seemed to be processing your words and forming a response when he took your hand in his to stop your nails from ripping into your palms like they often do. He nodded and took a breath.

“You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, thank you. Just for the record, I never feel like I can’t be myself with you, it’s opposite, really. When I’m with you I get to drop all that bullshit at the door. Girls in the past have just wanted me because I was scary but seeing the way you flinched just now, I don’t ever want you to feel scared of me.” Steve confessed.

Maybe it’s time to tell him about the engagement, let him know where you’re coming from. You blew out a shaky breath and looked away from him again.

“I, um, I’m not scared of you. Years ago I was engaged to a man and things were really bad, he was really bad. I’m not ready to talk about all of it but that’s why I shut down on you when you snapped. I’ve been through a lot of therapy and I’m still working on it, but I’m not afraid of you. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, it’s… kind of a sore subject” you admitted.

Steve’s nostrils flared and his grip on your hand tightened a little but you could tell he was trying everything he could to school his features and reply to you.

“I… didn’t know that I’m sorry.” he said as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. “If you ever wanna talk about it more, I’m here. And if you don’t, I understand.”

You stood from your chair and came around behind him to throw your arms around his neck. You kissed his cheek and rested your head against his.

“Thank you for listening and apologizing. I forgive you. And if you wanna talk about your day then I’m here.” You assured him.

Steve turned his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you reciprocated. Steve stood to his full height without breaking the kiss and brought his hands up to frame your face. The warmth was comforting again to you. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and he elicited the softest of sighs before returning your passion.

He broke the kiss while his hands explored your curves. “I want to make it up to you, will you let me do that, sweetheart?” he asked.

You could only look up at him with eyes blown wide with lust and affection. You nodded and he kissed you swiftly before leading you to your bedroom. You were holding his hand when he let go and softly urged you backwards onto the bed. You obliged and soon he was on top of you laying feather-light kisses to the column of your neck.

Your hands mussed his hair and smoothed out the tension in his shoulders as you held onto him. He kissed his way lower and lifted up the hem of our shirt and kissed his way back up to your breasts. You sat up slightly and took off your top and unhooked your bra, letting it fall before throwing it to the side. Steve took turns taking your nipples between his teeth and teasing them, licking and kissing them. He knew it always made you squirm and would build the anticipation before you could even touch him.

“Steve, please.” You whined.

Wordlessly he kissed and bit his way lower and undid your shorts. You arched your back to help him remove them along with your panties. Steve wasted no time and administered the smallest of licks to your clit. You gasped slightly at the feeling when you felt two fingers prodding your entrance before going in. Your body was getting accustomed to the initial wave of pleasure brought on by Steve’s movement and slowly you ground your hips against his hand and cried out softly.

Normally Steve would never let that fly, he was always so controlling and dominant in bed but tonight was different. Tonight was soft and he was making it up to you, showing his love in a physical way. So he let you push him deeper and raise your hips just so to reach the perfect angle. You felt yourself tighten around him and this is the point he usually slows down just to drag things out but your loud cries only fueled him as he doubled his efforts. With a final cry you came around his fingers, white heat blinding your vision momentarily.

You caught your breath and looked down at Steve. His beard was absolutely drenched and he sucked his fingers clean. You could almost cum again just from the sight of it. He wiped his mouth on a tissue before returning to you to give you a kiss. You tasted yourself on him but you didn’t care, you just wanted his mouth on yours. You felt his erection pressing against your thighs and it had you squirming all over again. You reached to undo his belt when he stopped you.

“This night is supposed to be about you, doll. I’ll be fine” He protested.

You shook your head at him. “I want you, all of you. Please, Steve”, you begged.

He nodded and undid his belt. You helped undress and when he was finally naked you felt the rush of heat to your core all over again, an itch you couldn’t scratch. You laid back further on the bed and soon he was above you, face inches from yours and one arm at the side of your head.

His cock nudged against your core and entered slowly to stretch you out. You moaned deeply and when he was all the way in he kissed you passionately and began moving. It didn’t take much for him to pick up the pace as he started to fuck you. He swore under his breath at the feeling of you.

“You’re so, so, good sweetheart. So fuckin’ good.” He praised.

His words made you keen as you let the feeling of him making love to you take you over completely. His lips grazed yours in between grunts and he moved one hand to your clit while the other cradled the back of your head. You held onto his shoulders tightly and sobbed out pleas for him to keep going. His thrusts picked up speed and so did his hand. You were so close to the edge and you could feel he was too.

“I love you” he panted out before his hips lunged forward into you one last time before he came inside of you.

The shock of his confession and his work on your clit triggered your second orgasm. It was powerful and had you clawing his back and gasping in pleasure. He’d never said that before. Did he mean it? You looked to him for the answer but his lips caught yours as he gave a few last lazy thrusts. He finally collapsed to your side and was heaving to catch his breath.

You both laid there basking in the afterglow of the makeup sex for a few minutes. You turned on your side to look at him. He was so perfect like this, so at ease.

“Did you.. Mean it? What you said?” You questioned nervously. You really wanted him to mean it.

He turned slowly to look at you and he was blushing. “Yeah, I did. I know it’s kind of soon and you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t help it. I love you” he confided.

“I love you too, I’m not just saying it cause I feel like I have to, I love you Steve Rogers. All of you.” you assured him.

The softest of kisses was laid on your lips. This moment with him was perfect.

“I can’t believe you love me. I’m so sorry about earlier. I feel so comforted when I’m with you, the last thing I want is to lose you. I promise I will do everything I can to never be like your ex. Ever. If I’m being a dick I want you to tell me,” He apologized again.

You were about to respond when his stomach let out the loudest groan. You both laughed as you sat up.

“I did promise you dinner. Unburned this time!” Steve pledged as he helped you gather up your clothes.

“That’s a promise I’m going to hold you to, Rogers.”

#steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers #Mob!Au #mafia!au #soft!Mob!Steve Rogers #marvel au #marvel fic #marvel x reader #botanical interest

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beelspillowpet · 4 years

Note

If your requests are open and your willing to, would you be able to do the brothers reacting to a trans MC? 👉🏻👈🏻 preferably female to male, but either way is fine! Sorry if your not comfy with this type of request >~<

Anon, just because you were afraid that I would turn down your request, I am going to PROVE to you how much it doesn’t bother me I'm going to do the 7 brothers AND the side characters. Because you BETTER BELEIVE we have a cast of supportive people!! Yessir!!!

I myself am the twin sister of my late twin brother, who was also FtM! I’ll be using his memory as inspiration, if you do not mind? Thank you for requesting this!

Lucifer

At first he presumed you were just not girly. He didn't really mind your behavior or way of dressing, so long as you got your tasks done on time and were on your best behavior.

When you cut your hair and stopped wearing that nail polish (despite Asmo’s pleading) he still thought nothing of it. You wore pants, and started trying your best to drop hints, and thankfully, Lucifer isn’t an idiot.

So what you’re telling me is that we’ve made you uncomfortable when referring to you as a woman? If that is the case, MC, then we would be more than happy to refer to you as anything you request. You only need to say the word.

He is dedicated to making sure you’re happy and comfortable here. He and his brothers may be demons, but they aren’t heartless. They were once angels too. He goes through the process with you, if you were shaky or unsure of what to do in the past. If you want HRT, surgery, need a new wardrobe, he and his brothers will be the first to provide. Whatever to keep you happy in your skin.

Mammon

Oh. Honestly speaking, he’ll still love you regardless of what form your body takes. He liked the way you looked, but secretly he can’t wait to see how you’ll look after you transition.

Before we even get to that point though, it takes a lot of hint dropping for him to get it. And even then, he has to go and ask the others what you’re trying to tell him. Of course he gets picked on a little bit for it, but once he figures it out he’s really happy you were comfortable enough to tell him.

Hell, he might get a job just so he can help you be able to afford all the things you’ll need to properly transition. Some of the details make him blush quite a bit, and if you’re uncomfortable with touches or any signs of affection during your process of transitioning, he will politely refrain from making his human uncomfortable.

He’s taking you to Majolish and you are going to get your ENTIRE wardrobe redone. Courtesy of The GREAT Mammon! You should feel grateful that he’s working this hard to make you happy. I mean c’mon, he LOVES you! He can’t wait to love you more after you’ve become the man you always were deep down inside.

Leviathan

He does notice that you act different from other women. Not that he minds it, not at all. His Henry is still the same old Henry. Just a little bit different. He’s a little bit different too, there’s nothing wrong with that. Right?!

It’s when you start preferring to be called Henry as opposed to your birth name, do the cogs start churning in his brain. He would have suspected at first that maybe you just were very good friends with him and loved TSL almost as much as him.

He’s seen a few heart-warming anime about it. Specifically one about a girl becoming a boy, and the struggles he went through while attending school. The title wasn’t too important to him, but now that he had a reference for what you were dealing with, he was a bit happy. He just wanted to wait until the moment was right to bring it up to you. Perhaps his Henry was really a Henry after all!

When the moment comes, he’s proud to say the least. He throws his arms around you happily, and promises to be there by your side every step of the way. He’s not exactly rolling in money, but an Otaku finds a way. The Lord of Shadows is your best friend ever, and he can’t wait to see the before and after pictures of your full transition!

Satan

It started with a book you read with him. He didn’t fully comprehend your situation, but he knew you didn’t act like normal girls. It reminded him of a character in a book he read a few weeks ago. The guy didn’t really act like a girl.

While sweet and thoughtful, this character didn’t hit the nail on the head in some ways. When talking over the book with you, you explained just as much to him. The energy was there, but it was backwards for you. He picked up on it immediately.

So what you’re telling me is, you understand this characters struggle with themselves, and can relate to it. But something about it is backwards? A little smile appears on his face as it fully dawns on him. MC, I think I’ll be able to assist you in any way you need.

With Satan’s wonderful connections across the entire Devildom, it wasn’t long before you were getting some of the best treatment possible. The prices seemed a bit scary, but he assured you everything was being taken care of behind the scenes. If you needed to worry about anything, it would be the tiring, long process to come with transitioning. He’ll be sure it goes relatively smoothly for you, though!

Asmodeus

Oh he gets it immediately. Darling why didn’t you just say so in the first place?

He’s dragging you back to your room, rambling the entire time about how he can’t wait to take you out and go shopping. He puts together a devious little page to gather up donations and the like to support your transitioning. His fans would be HONORED to pitch in, right?

In the mean time, he stops pampering you with makeup and his other routines that you used to tolerate for the sake of being cordial. He still pushes for the nail polish, since gender is simply a social concept and he’s ready to crush it into dust any chance he can get. But it’s not about him, it’s about you.

Soon your room is painted a new color, your dresses and skirts and frilly outfits are tossed out for more appropriate attire for your sex, and he’s taking photos for his Devilgram page to show everyone how beautiful you are, even while going through the long process!

Beelzebub

You and Beel got along fabulously. He seemed astonished that a female was interested in all these manly habits he indulged in. He heard from some of the guys on his team that you were interested in playing Fangol. As evidenced by how you always showed up to his practices and games, no matter if they were home or away.

He figured you were just a really big fan of sports. But then you even started working out with him, and giving him suggestions and tips on how to get even more out of his workouts at the gym. You were really passionate about this.

Let’s not kid ourselves, he probably does not pick up on any of the signs. You have tot ell him, and you have to tell him firmly. You are a man, just like him. When you do tell him, however, he’s eager to help you transition. Imagine having another guy in the house who loves Fangol as much as you do!?

He isn’t much aside from emotional support through the transitions, and he coddles you when you have those bad days. If you want to eat something, he’ll rush to the kitchen and cook you a full meal before you move an inch. You’re allowed to lay in bed today. Let him handle the heavy load of work for you.

Belphegor

Oh wow, look at that. He picked it up almost immediately.

I mean, there’s no way a girl would act the way you do, right? Dress the way you do. Be the way you are. He doesn’t care though, and just wants you to be happy. If that means you transition into a man, then hell, he’s on board with you.

He may be a lazy bastard, but he knows when it’s time to get up and work hard to get something. That was what he was like as an angel, anyways. Working at Hell’s Kitchen is the worst, and you hear him complain about as much, but he smiles and assures you that it’s all for a good reason.

His final gift to you to apologize about the Incident, is money. Now at first glance it seems like something Mammon would do. Probably. In reality though, this is the money that will be going towards your HRT. He doesn’t know if you want to fully transition or not, but if you want that top surgery, he can help pay for that too. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and healthy in your own body.

Diavolo

It really is a house of men, isn’t it?

He’s glad though, truly, that you were comfortable coming to him about it. Don’t bother ever opening your wallet to pay for any therapy, medication, or surgery. As the Prince of the Devildom, he would be more than happy to get you doctors of all sorts to help you. No questions asked!

It might be a bit overwhelming at first, but the news is exciting. If the Prince accepts you so readily, it gives you hope that other demons will as well. Pretty soon you’re going through your processes, and Diavolo couldn’t be happier to see it happening.

You really is a wonderful guy, and he’s glad he’s getting to experience the changes you take in your life.

Barbatos

To say he didn’t suspect this would be an understatement.

Ever silent and respectful though, he never spoke a word of it. You are probably uncomfortable with people assuming it, even though it’s true. An insecurity that humans seem to deal with, although unfortunate.

However, when the news is broken during a meeting between you, Lucifer, he, and the Prince himself, a smile creeps on his face.

He’s happy to hear that you are so comfortable speaking about this sort of thing. He knows it must be tough, having hidden your true feelings for so long. He prepares a delicious tea with small treats, to celebrate your coming out, and transitioning.

Simeon (and Luke)

Oh dear. God loves you, still. Don’t worry about this. He doesn’t see you as an imperfection.

They assures you constantly that you have their full support, and that will never change. You are not broken, you are not unwanted, and you are not strange. You are a regular trans man in their eyes, and they will defend you on that.

Simeon almost takes on a fatherly role to you, wanting to make sure everything goes as smooth as possible. He probably has done a bit of research in preparations for your transition, and all the nasty little side effects that come with it are worrying him.

However, once it’s all over, Luke and Simeon are glad you came out on top. And my, what a handsome man you make!

Solomon

He figured, but didn’t want to assume. I mean, who the hell is he?

He’s got a few spells for this though, make it quick and painless. One wave of a wand and POOF! Woman no more!

Oh but that’s probably dangerous. The shifty bastard. You would much rather do it the regular way; and not have your insides and outsides shifted around by some crazy sorcerer.

He doesn’t protest much, but that does suck. Hehe. Oh well. You can count on him to support you through it all!

#obey me #om!#obey me headcanons #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon

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bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus · 3 years

Text

A funky-ass ramble, warnings for spoilers for the new Suicide Squad film and Falcon and the Winter Soldier... and I'm sorry this goes on forever lmao:

P.S. I can't grammar, so sorry if there's any mistakes! Bear with me!

One thing that I love about the new Suicide Squad film was the commentary on how expendable those villains were, Waller was ready to throw them away at the drop of a hat- even Rick Flag, who wasn't even an inmate, was ready to be given up as soon as he was a liability. For me, it's a commentary on how the governments don't care about the individual working for them, they just want to know was the job done and was it done well.

The Squad do some good, they save the day by killing Starro and yet were about to be punished. Amanda Waller has no care for right and wrong, she just wanted them to complete the mission and get back. Starro was going to consume the whole island, but it didn't matter, as long as the dictatorship threatening America was put down, Waller would be content. She only cares for the job, not the Squad.

Even at the start of the film, the first team was slaughtered as part of a distraction. A distraction! It's morbidly hilarious but also mournfully terrible. Those poor guys were killed for pretty much nothing. No gains on their part at least. What makes matters worse was that they were told they'd be rewarded.

Does this sound familiar?

If you've done a little bit of stuff on World War 1 and World War 2 in history class, then you've probably covered a little bit on propaganda. Propaganda which uses the exact same technique of promising young men something in return for their services. Do some good and you'll have some good done to you. Of course, this wasn't the case, the authorities just needed more soldiers. I think this whole thing stands relevant today too. And it's definitely relevant to the Suicide Squad. The Suicide Squad shows how easily these people are thrown away, blown up, drowned, fried, buried and impaled in the name of serving their government in exchange for a reward. A reward they don't get. The Suicide Squad is a tragedy, the characters survive because they're allowed to, and sure they're happy that they've done some good and lived, but at what cost? Friends are dead and Amanda will probably call on them again eventually. It's a devil's bargain. It's hopeless. And it's a real shame.

Now, we move onto The Falcon and the Winter Soldier and how it tackles expandability and how I wanted it to delve deeper into it, especially because of the characters. Whilst I must say that TFAWS does a great job tackling Sam's story as he grapples with the idea of becoming Captain America, I feel like the writers wrapped everything up too quickly. It's a shame but there's only so much you can do in 6 episodes, you gotta end it somehow! Had the show gone on longer, I would've loved to see Sam coming to terms with what it means to be a US symbol, to be a soldier. Isaiah Bradley's story is heartbreaking, it shows how America treated and continues to treat its soldiers, particularly those of colour, and having Sam explore that further whilst inheriting the shield would have been amazing. He's a black man, an Avenger, a serviceman and now he's got the shield. He serves the government, he's the symbol of American authority, a hero! And yet, he's vulnerable, because he knows he's expendable. He's seen how expendable he is through Isaiah. And also through John Walker, who obviously was in no position to get that shield. It was thrust upon him and he just had to take it. John Walker of course is not a good guy, but he clearly also is not a monster, he just wasn't worthy of the shield. That man was fragile, only knowing how to be a soldier from his time in Afghanistan, no way was he ready for the complexities and responsibilities of being a superhero! But the shield was given to him because he was what the government wanted. And when he wasn't, he was tossed aside, humiliated and thrust into another job because they thought he'd be best to do the dirty work, but we know it's only going to take a greater toll on his psyche. Isaiah and John are pawns to the government, who are constantly shifting their positions so that the odds would be in their favour. Isaiah shows what it is to be a soldier, particularly a minoritised person who's a soldier: you're nothing but a pawn in their eyes. And he has every damn right to be angry. The whole, "don't be be bitter" felt a bit iffy, I get that they're saying there's no point in wallowing, but Isaiah should be angry, but in Sam he should also find hope.

"They will never let a black man be Captain America. No self-respecting black man, anyways." That line is so impactful. It shows how shackled Isaiah felt as a super soldier, it was as if he was selling himself away. So, Marvel, let Isaiah have that line and let Sam struggle with it! Make Sam feel that- does he have self-respect? Is he doing this for himself, for his community? Or is he another toy for the American government to play with? Is *he* expendable?

Karli also had a lot of potential, a person fighting against this regime of objectifying people and seeing them as expendable kicking the survivors of the Blip onto the streets. However, the irony with her was she was slowly becoming the thing she sought to destroy. Making an army of super soldiers, killing innocents and wielding her power with an iron fist, calling into question the loyalties of her comrades once they begun to grow unsure of her practices, showed how she was devolving into something no better. We get hints of it in the show, but then she dies. I wanted to see her and Sam get more time to interact together, for Sam, as a black serviceman, talking to Karli, a mixed black girl who's a leader slowly turning into her enemy, to really get to the heart of the issue, for Karli to see that her anger is useless and destructive if it isn't honed. Not that her anger is unwarranted. She can be angry, you just have to know what to do next. Feel that emotion, embrace that feeling, but then think about how you're going to heal that wound that's caused you such pain. Sam knows how to do this, how to deliver a message, by wearing the shield he can stick it up to the government. By being a symbol he can be more. Sam could've actually somewhat sided with the Flag Smashers or at least maybe stick it to the government by standing up for Karli, had she lived. Sam could've shown how Karli was turning her movement's members into expendables, how that reflects on the wider issue, and how they, as people with influence and power, can uplift those who support them and pave the way to be better.

As a Disney show, of course they can't be entirely depressing like Suicide Squad. However, I wanted that gritty sadness I felt at the end of that film- I wanted them to go that little bit darker. Suicide Squad was shocking. Those guys were leaving the belly of one beast and entering the mouth of another, you could see in the last few shots of the crew in their transport that they weren't happy because they'd done something incredible, they were relieved the fight was over. They were tired. Heck, Ratcatcher 2 falls asleep!

Maybe Marvel could've left on that note. Sam has got the shield and now what? He's now the symbol of America. "We can do better" should have been the final thing he thinks, as he sits at home, reflecting on the people he's encountered. Isaiah, a dark truth about how easy Sam could be tossed aside, John, a testament to how heavy the burden of the shield is, and Karli, how angry Sam feels at his own government. I would've loved the final shot to be Sam, after training for hours with the shield, exhausted and sweating, to just stare at it, like it's a stranger in his home, as he reflects on his story so far, before, with a content sigh, picking it up and posing like Steve in his mirror. Sam is the Captain America we need in this day and age. A force to do better. And a force who doesn't back down quietly, who does question what's right and wrong in this new age of moral greys and complex problems. Sam knows he's not expendable.

#marvel #mcu #sam wilson #captain america #dceu #the suicide squad #the falcon #tfaws #rambles

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sapphosclown · 4 years

Text

Treat You Better - Tyrus AU

Part XIV: i guess we carried each other

Cyrus and TJ present their history project.

Masterlist

———

Cyrus was woken up by his alarm, a pleasant scene where birds are chirping quietly in the background and a soft melody crescendos into a lovely morning song.

It absolutely infuriated him.

Nothing against birds or happy music, but it’s 6am and Cyrus has been studying for midterms all week and and now he has to present a project with the guy who is mad at him for whatever unknown reason and quite frankly, Cyrus didn’t want to leave his bed ever again.

The memory of his and TJ’s rehearsal on Monday has been haunting him all week. Andi and Buffy said not to worry about it so he’s really been trying not to, but he can’t.

He misses how it used to be. TJ was always so open and talkative during their study sessions even Cyrus was rude and dismissive. He made Cyrus laugh anyways, made him feel relaxed. It didn’t feel like a school project, it just felt like hanging out with a friend. And now that he can enjoy that atmosphere, it’s taken away from him. Because of course it is.

Cyrus begrudgingly got out of bed and threw on his clothes before going to brush his teeth.

He got to school 15 minutes before the first exam period and saw Andi and Buffy in their usual spots and Jonah sitting on the table across from Buffy in the cafeteria.

“Hey, Cyrus!” Jonah smiled wide at him and held his hand up for a high five to which Cyrus responded with a weak tap as he slid into his seat.

“C'mon man you can do better than that.” Jonah said disapprovingly as he held his hand over to Buffy who slapped his hand without even looking.

“I’m sorry, I’m so tired today.” Cyrus groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Good thing I got a present for you,” Buffy sang as she slid an iced coffee across the table to him.

He looked at the coffee and back to buddy, eyes wide. “I love you.” He deadpanned, causing his friends to laugh.

“Today’s our last day and then it’s winter break, you got this!” Jonah nudged his shoulder gently.

“I think he’s just not excited for today in particular.” Andi replied, breaking apart each syllable of “particular”.

“Why, what’s happening today?” Jonah asked.

“He has his presentation with TJ today.” Buffy whispered loudly to Jonah.

“Oh.” Jonah whispered loudly back.

“You guys are so subtle.” Andi mimicked their voices.

“Whatever. I’ll be fine. Can we talk about something else?” Cyrus dismissed and took a sip of his coffee.

That lit up something in Buffy. “Oh yeah! Andi, tell him.”

“OH YEAH! Cyrus, you know how I was gonna ask Amber for her number?” She said excitedly.

“I do. Did you chicken out?” Cyrus teased, taking another sip of his drink.

Andi glared at him. “No.” she said quickly before shifting her eyes to the ceiling. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance BECAUSE SHE ASKED ME FIRST!”

Cyrus smiled at Buffy. “Called it.” He whispered loudly. Andi hit his arm playfully as he giggled and flinched away.

“Whatever. I still don’t know if she’s—”

“She is.” Jonah interjected.

Everyone turned to him with confused expressions.

“How do you know?” Andi asked.

“She told me. She doesn’t try to keep it a secret, did you not see the rainbow pin on her bag? Or the rainbow sticker on her name tag?” Jonah explained.

Buffy snorted.

“No I saw— She told you?” Andi asked again, still very lost.

“Yeah we’re friends.”

“Not the development I expected but a good one nonetheless.” Buffy joked to Cyrus.

“Since when?” Andi yelled.

“A while now. Our moms are friends and we have a lot in common. She told me she was gay like 2 years ago, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out.” Jonah replied.

Andi stared at him.

“You knew her this whole time, and didn’t think to say anything?”

“I didn’t realize she was the girl you were madly in love with.”

Buffy snorted again.

“I AM NOT IN LOVE W—” Andi got cut off by the 5 minute warning bell and Buffy Cyrus and Jonah all started grabbing their bags to head to class. Andi stares at Jonah, grabbing her own bag. “We’re finishing this conversation later Beck.” She threatened before walking away.

Jonah looked at Cyrus with fear in his eyes.

“Don’t look at me man!”

“What did I do!” Jonah laughed as he and Cyrus headed to their first exam.

***

The good news is Cyrus had English for his first exam to distract him from his impending doom. The bad news is English is is over and now he has to go to history.

Under regular circumstances he’d be glad that his teacher is taking these presentations for their midterm grades, but he’s kind of too busy cursing whatever god is out there controlling his life to worry about his grade.

Cyrus subconsciously walked ever so slightly slower to his history classroom, knowing it doesn’t actually make a difference to what’s gonna happen but it’s worth a shot. Turns out it kind of worked, but in the worst way possible.

Cyrus got to the room at the exact same time as TJ and they practically ran each other over trying to get through the door at the same time.

“Hey, what the hell— Cyrus!” TJ said much louder than he probably meant to.

Cyrus stood at him in shock for a second. Of course he thought to himself. “Um, sorry I wasn’t paying attention.” He forced a smile and walked into class as TJ called after him.

“Wait, Cyrus—” TJ said, taking a seat next to him. “Can... Can we talk?”

Cyrus opened his mouth to respond but the only sound that came was from the bell signaling clad to start. Cyrus looked to the front of the room where their teacher had already started talking.

“Alright, we don’t really have time to waste so, look for you and your partners names on the board. If each presentation is 3-5 minutes we should have some time leftover to watch a quarter of a movie. Sound good?”

The class mumbled in content agreement.

“Great. If you and your partner feel like you’d like to go over your work one more time, you can practice in the hall QUIETLY, while the group before you is presenting. Alright, first up—”

And so Cyrus spent the first 15 minutes of class sitting awkwardly next to TJ as they kept looking over at each other in what was supposed to be sneaky glances but they’re kind of bad at being subtle and make contact almost every time. Eventually the people before then stand up to present and TJ turns to Cyrus.

“Hey, can we—” He whispered pointing to the hallway. Cyrus pressed his lips in a straight line attempting an awkward smile and grabbed his bag, TJ following him suite.

TJ quietly closed the door behind them and turned around.

He took a deep breath. “Um— I just wanted to apologize for how I acted the other day.”

Cyrus shifted a bit. “Okay...”

They stood in silence for a beat.

“So...”

“That was it.”

“Have you ever heard an apology? Like ever?” Cyrus tried to joke but he knew it came off more bitter than he meant it to.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“So you’ve apologized for not apologizing, but you still haven’t apologized.” Cyrus stated.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re hard to apologize to?” TJ retorted.

“No, actually. This would be a first.” TJ smiled at that.

“Okay. I’m sorry for how i acted the other day. That wasn’t fair to you. I guess I just thought that if I pretended like I didn’t care it’d make things easier but I was... very wrong.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” Cyrus snorted.

TJ looked at his shoes and Cyrus stared at him. “It’s okay. I mean, I guess I understand where you were coming from but it still kind of sucked. I thought you hated me.” Cyrus said.

“I know. I’m sorry.” TJ said again.

Cyrus nodded.

A soft smiled tugged at TJ’s lips before he tore his eyes to his notebook. “Um, good job on your section by the way, I don’t get a chance to say it but yeah. Not that I thought you’d do a bad job or anything because you’re really smart and I’m actually surprised you stuck with me as your partner because—”

“Thanks, TJ.” Cyrus cut off his rambling, laughing quietly. “You did a really good job too. And you pretty much nailed all the dates too so, congratulations.”

“Ha, thanks.” TJ clearly didn’t believe him.

“Seriously Teej,” Cyrus took a step forward and put his hand on the other boys shoulder. “You should be proud of yourself.”

Cyrus saw TJ’s cheeks turning a light shade of pink s he felt his own face burn a little. If nothing else, one thing hadn’t changed— TJ still had the prettiest eyes Cyrus has ever seen.

They were interrupted by the door opening and their teachers face popped through. “You boys are up!” He whispered enthusiastically before slipping back into the room.

The boys looked at each other a again and laughed awkwardly, both still extreme shades of red but pretending they weren’t.

Their presentation actually went pretty smoothly. The biggest issue they ran into was stuttering every here and there, but this was already ten million times better than their practice run had been. Both of them quickly melted into their dynamic and everything else came pretty naturally and they were done in about 3 and a half minutes. The class snapped quietly (as to not disturb the other classes) and they both sat down, continuing the rest of class “sneaking” looks at each other and smiling when they made eye contact every time.

***

Cyrus stared at his phone while his friends talked around him at Andi’s locker. It started with Andi scolding Jonah for not being her wingman earlier on but Cyrus lost tack pretty quickly as his mind wandered back to TJ.

He was staring at his contact in his phone and debating on sending a text. On one hand, he wasn’t entirely sure where they stood now. Were they friends again? Were they just school acquaintances again? They weren’t project partners anymore so should he keep TJ’s phone number? Cyrus could already feel that he was about to drive himself crazy and just pushed aside all his thoughts and typed out a message.

Cyrus: good job on the project today!! all things considered i think we did pretty well :)

Cyrus shuts off his phone and puts it back in his pocket as he tried to ignore the part of his brain screaming at him. He heard about 3 words in the conversation unfolding before him before he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He yanked his phone back out and read the message in the screen

TJ: thanks :) i can’t take too much credit tho, you definitely carried me the whole way through

Cyrus: you’re simply incorrect. you carried me

TJ: i guess that means we carried each other then huh

Cyrus: i guess it does

“Oooooooooo, who ya textin?” Buffy sang, poking at Cyrus’s arm.

“No one!” He tried to say but the smile on his face begged to differ.

“So did you and TJ make up then?” Andi asked.

“Yeah. We talked before the presentation and it helped.” Cyrus blushed harder.

“You should invite him to the spoon with us!” Jonah proposed.

Cyrus looked at all his friends. “Really? Are you guys sure its okay?”

“Of course! Andi’s invited Amber, who’s one more gonna hurt!” Buffy replied.

“Okay...” Cyrus turned back to his phone, his friends watching him intently. Cyrus stood still and cleared his throat aggressively. Catching the hint they all turn back to their own little conversation.

“So, words amirite?” He hears Andi say.

Cyrus: my friends and i are getting some celebratory end of semester shakes at the spoon, if you’re not doing anything you can join, if you want

He clicked his phone off again pretending like nothing was happening because technically, nothing was happening. He invited his friend to get milkshakes with his friends, big whoop. Except everyone had gone silent again and was staring at Cyrus.

“What we’re you saying about words, Andi?”

“Oh, uh—”

Their fake conversation quickly turned into a very real and heated debate about phonetics which Cyrus had invested himself in hoping to forget about the fact that a full minute and a half has already passed and he still hasn’t heard anything back.

Another minute passes and Cyrus was just about ready to call it quits when he felt his pocket buzz.

TJ: sounds fun :) i’ll meet you guys there?

Cyrus: cool :)

They get to the Spoon and see Amber sitting the the largest corner booth in her normal people clothes. She stands up and waves them over with a smile on her face.

“I already ordered some baby taters but I wasn’t sure what milkshakes you guys wanted because I can never remember who likes what.” Amber said nervously as everyone took their seat.

“That’s ok. There’s one more joining us so we’ll order when he gets here.” Jonah reassured her.

“Oh, who is it?”

As if on que, the door rang as TJ stepped inside and scanned the room, and then waving excitedly when he sees Cyrus.

“You’re joking.” Amber laughs in disbelief and stands up again, making eye contact with TJ who’s face drops like hers before they both start laughing hysterically leaving everyone feeling confused and kind of left out.

“Wait... that’s...” TJ laughed before Amber shushed him.

“I didn’t realize you were talking about...” Amber started before TJ shushed her.

“Hey, what’s going on...” Buffy whispered to the two of them.

“Oh, um, Cyrus remember when I told you I have a sister—” TJ said simply, gesturing towards Amber.

Amber turned to Cyrus and smiled and waved weakly.

“No way.” Buffy said to no one in particular as she smiled widely. She was gonna have a field day with this.

Jonah looked like he was about to pee his pants trying not to laugh and Cyrus and Andi were completely stunned and just stared at each other for a second before also laughing, the rest of the group doing the same.

“I hate it here.” Amber joked as she sat down next to Andi.

“I’ve literally never been happier in my life.” Buffy laughed as she moved so TJ could sit next to Cyrus.

“Jonah, why didn’t you tell them?” Amber yelled at him.

“I THOUGHT THEY HAD FIGURED IT OUT! Cyrus has been to your house multiple times how did you not know!” Jonah yelled back.

They dissolved into more playful yelling and despite being way too loud for this little diner, Cyrus still felt happier than he had all year.

A waiter came over after they had quieted down and took their orders. Everyone started talking about something but Cyrus had noticed that TJ’s pinky was touching his own and that was all he could focus on. It was the lightest touch and yet if felt like his skin was on fire. As if that wasn’t enough, TJ must have noticed it too, because he looped his finger over Cyrus’s, making Cyrus’s face heat up involuntarily and he hoped no one had noticed. When Cyrus didn’t move away, TJ carefully flipped his hand over and intertwined the rest of their fingers. Cyrus looked at him but TJ had gone back into the conversation. Cyrus smiled at him and then tuned back in himself.

He never wanted this to end.

He was happy.

———

previous // next

a/n: happy boys for today me thinks 😌 the angst is finally dying down and there’s i think gonna be two more chapters (excluding the epilogue) and our boys are gonna get the happy ending they deserve but for now, they hold hands under the table at the spoon and enjoy the company of their friends. ALSO I WAS LOOSING MY MIND WRITING THE PART WHERE W TJ AND AMBER OH MY GOD i hope you enjoyed lmao

also i’m updating my tag list to make sure the notifications are getting sent and if you want to be added or taken off just lmk!!

tag list:

@secretly-of-course @abg-blah @maybeldontwantheaven @thebisexualweirdo @randomsmilingpotatoes @iam-johnlocked @ohnoitsamistake18 @im-mormon-and-not-straight @unrequitedambi @marriedtobigfoot @fairygclds @c-ristopher @tylercamebackyes @tyrus-is-canon @craftyceleb @ana-lana-ding-dong @dancinglifeboat

#i finished this chapter months ago but was waiting till i finished the next chapter to post it #and i finished that last night and i thought ab waiting a lil longer to post this but i didn’t wanna #ta da #andi mack #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #tyrus fic #andi mack fic #treat you better tyrus au #tyrus au #my writing

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senacal · 4 years

Note

Hey! Would u wanna write one where right after cuba in the hospital charles asks her to sing to him, and all she can remember is an old song from sweden (slightly personalized in that, i hope you dont mind!!) called Flyktsoda by ebba grön, she sings in swedish and he translates lyrics by telepathy. she ends up kinda confessing with the line "dont be scared of me, i am so scared of you" bcz shes a bit scary and mad all the time but shes super weak for charles. then u can decide how it ends 🥺🥺

Request: Requested by Anon

Pairing: Charles Xavier x Fem! Reader

Prompt: Hey! Would u wanna write one where right after Cuba in the hospital Charles asks her to sing to him, and all she can remember is an old song from Sweden (slightly personalized in that, I hope you don’t mind!!) called Flyktsoda by Ebba grön, she sings in Swedish and he translates lyrics by telepathy. she ends up kinda confessing with the line "don’t be scared of me, I am so scared of you" bcz she’s a bit scary and mad all the time but shes super weak for Charles. then u can decide how it ends 🥺🥺

Warnings: self deprecation? Charles isn’t okay and neither is the reader

Author’s Note: I don’t mind at all ^.^ I listened to the song and it was super catchy, even better when I found out what the lyrics translated to (I speak no ounce of Swedish lol 😅) Sorry it took so long btw, I fell into a funk but here I am, forcing myself out 😬

Requests Are Open!

After the events of Cuba, Charles hadn’t been the same. He wasn’t to blame, of course, his whole world had changed with a single bullet. It was heartbreaking to witness the once cheerful man turn into this broken person. He plastered on a smile when he needed to and he pretended to be the same cheeky man, but (Y/N) knew it was an act. Not only had he lost his legs, but he also lost Raven and his best friend Erik that day. Despite Erik being capable of making his own choices, Charles blamed himself for what happened. He blamed himself relentlessly and it annoyed (Y/N) because she knew the turmoil it was giving the man. She hated seeing Charles putting himself through that self-inflicting guilt.

No matter how many times (Y/N) or Hank tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, Charles still continued to place the blame on himself. Charles did stop communicating that guilt out loud around them when they visited him in the hospital, but (Y/N) was willing to bet that it still resided in the back of his mind. She didn’t have to be a telepath to know that because she could easily see it in his eyes. She liked to think that she knew him well enough through everything they’ve gone through together.

Before Cuba, Charles and Erik had found her working a tireless job to keep herself off of the streets. She was barely scraping by and she lived in a crappy one-bedroom apartment. It was located in the bad part of town and the crime rates were skyrocketing, but the mayor didn’t care to fix that. So she suppressed her powers and forced herself to fight for what little she had. She couldn’t afford for her landlord to figure out that she was a mutant and kick her out. Thankfully her mutation was easy to hide, as long as her emotions were kept intact. The only hint at her mutant powers was the growing life around her wherever she went, meaning, she could manipulate plant life either with a thought or a simple touch. It aggravated her to see people treat the plants in her neighborhood soo poorly.

When Erik and Charles first went to collect her, she couldn't understand what they would want with a girl like her. She was on the verge of homelessness, worked a dead-end job, and had a criminal record. The charges against her weren’t too serious, a couple of shoplifting charges and she might have beat a guy up here and there who tried to attack her. But regardless, she knew she wouldn’t fit in with the others Charles and Erik had recruited. So when she met them, she glared her way through each conversation and ignored the CIA’s requests. But for some reason, Charles managed to worm his way into her heart. Maybe it was his charming smile that should have annoyed her or his eyes that were shockingly blue. Or maybe it was the fact that he understood her even though he was the complete opposite of her. Whatever it was, Charles was the only one who had seen her softer side.

It was almost funny seeing Hank’s shocked face when he witnessed her caring side for the first time. They had both decided to visit Charles in the hospital when Charles had asked for a small favor, some comfortable clothes, and (Y/N) had readily offered to get them. Hank was possibly more surprised than was necessary. (Y/N) did nice things! The other day she helped Erik with his powers, granted that was before he betrayed them and Hank wasn’t there to witness it. Now though, (Y/N) reserved her soft spot for Charles. Hank seemed to understand, he didn’t make any comments about it; but that was probably because when Alex did, (Y/N) manipulated the roots of a tree to keep him stuck for a whole night until Charles turned a disapproving eye on her. He learned his lesson after that though.

But that was all before Cuba. Now it was just (Y/N), Hank, Alex, Banshee, and Charles. But even Banshee and Alex went their own way. (Y/N) couldn’t say where they went, she wasn’t sure. But she did know that their departure had added to Charles’ grief and guilt. She made it her duty to stay by his side while he was in the hospital, a reassurance that she wouldn’t leave him. Charles had turned her into this soft mushy person and it scared her shitless. She couldn’t remember the last time she had loved someone. But the thought of him leaving or being taken away terrified her. Charles terrified her. But she pulled herself together so he wouldn’t realize anything was wrong, he didn’t need any extra guilt.

(Y/N) sat next to Charles's bedside, a book in her hands to keep her busy while Charles slept. She arrived early that day because of the construction happening on the street where the hospital was located and she didn’t want to be late. She wasn’t expecting Charles to be awake which was why she brought the book. She was immersed in the story when Charles woke up, which is why he surprised her.

“You’re here early,” He spoke groggily.

The flowers’ leaves on the other side of Charles’s bedside shot out of their vase and wrapped around Charles’s wrist, forcing it flush against the bed. (Y/N) might have gotten startled since she was distracted. She looked up with a guilty smile and released his wrist when he gave her an unamused look. “Sorry, you scared me,” She grumbled.

“It’s alright, love,” Charles rubbed his wrist. He hadn’t expected the grip to hurt since they were tulip leaves.

“How’d you sleep?” (Y/N) set the book in her hands aside and shifted so she could face Charles.

“Okay, I guess. I’m ready to get out of here,” He shrugged. He adjusted the bed so he could sit up.

“I can ask the doctor when you can be released if you’d like?” (Y/N) offered.

‘No, it’s okay,” Charles waved her off, “I’d much rather keep your company a little longer,” He smiled.

(Y/N) nodded, a faint smile on her lips. “Of course,” She drummed her fingers on her lap. “Did you need anything? The nurse? More medicine? Food?”

“I’m alright for now, thanks though… Can I ask you a question?” Charles hesitated.

“Yeah, anything.”

“Do you mind if, you can say no, but do you mind if I ask you to sing me a song? I’ve been quite bored here and the radio stations are rather crappy and there’s never anything good on the telly,” He rambled.

“Oh, uh,” (Y/N) furrowed her brows, what song would she sing?

“Never mind, it was weird of me to ask, you don’t-”

“No, I’ll sing for you uh, Is it okay if it’s in Sweden? I can’t really remember any songs right now,” (Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and her fingers began to fidget in her lap.

“I don’t mind,” He smiled kindly.

(Y/N) nodded and cleared her throat, here went nothing, “Lyckan kommer, lyckan går. Dom säger tiden läker sår. Jag släcker lampor. Jag öppnar fönster. Letar efter mönster. Jag kommer aldrig. Jag kommer aldrig, kommer. Kommer aldrig komma hem.”

‘Happiness comes, happiness goes. They say that time heals wounds. I turn off lamps, I open windows. Searching after patterns, I will never, I will never, will never come home,’ Charles lay back in his bed, his eyes closing as his mind translated the lyrics for him, one of the better aspects of his telepathy, the ability to understand any language.

“Flyktsoda, ta mig i hand. Sätt mig i brand, ibland ibland ibland. Flyktsoda ta mig i land. Sätt mig i brand, ibland ibland ibland,” (Y/N) could feel her stomach flipping, her chest filling with anxiety. She hadn’t realized how much this song actually meant until now. She hadn’t been happy before Charles came into her life. She was merely going through the motions, living because it was expected of her, but with Charles, hell even Hank, they gave her a reason to keep going. Only Charles was her reason for staying.

‘Escapesoda take my hand. Set me on fire, sometimes sometimes sometimes. Escapesoda bring me to shore. Set me on fire, sometimes sometimes sometimes,’ Charles inhaled deeply, (Y/N)’s voice soothing the ache in his chest. He appreciated everything she has done for him while he was hospitalized. If it weren’t for her, he was sure he wouldn’t have made it out in one piece. He barely made it with her there, but her persistent presence kept him grounded and kept him from falling into despair.

“Var inte rädd för mig. Jag är så rädd för dig,” (Y/N)’s voice stuttered over the words. They pierced her heart when she sang them. They rang true and she was afraid it revealed just how much Charles affected her.

“Don't be afraid of me. I'm so afraid of you,” Charles's eyes opened when he heard the vulnerability in her voice. He looked at her with questioning eyes, he almost felt bad when he read what she was thinking.

“Do you really think that I am afraid of you?” He asked softly.

“I, well, everyone else was, why not you too? I hurt you just a little while ago,” She pointed to his wrist.

Charles's wrist was rubbed raw from the leaf, but it wasn’t too bad, plus he had startled her, “I startled you, it wasn’t your fault.”

“That’s not the point Charles, I’ve done some bad things so why wouldn’t you fear me?”

“You fought to protect yourself. You are so much more than your powers, (Y/N). You’re magnificent, you’re amazing.” Charles wished he could reassure her and comfort her more, but his fucking legs couldn’t move. He shifted as best as he could, “Now why do you fear me?” He wondered.

(Y/N)’s heart was racing, she swore her heartbeat was louder than the heart monitor attached to Charles. “I- you don’t- why-” She ran her hand through her hair. “If I tell you, promise me this won’t change anything between us, okay? You’re all I have and I can’t lose you as a friend.” She spoke softly.

Charles nodded, “You could never lose me.”

(Y/N) bit her lip, wondering how to start. How does one even tell the person they love they fear them because of the hold they have on their heart? Charles managed to shove his way into her life and now she couldn’t picture her life without him in it. “I fear you because how easily you fit into my life,” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, though she didn’t know why she was crying, shame maybe? “For a long time now it’s been just me, I had nobody, my parents didn’t want me, my landlord was looking for any reason to evict me, my co-workers were all selfish assholes, and I’ve been attacked countless times by men in the streets. I made sure no one could misuse my trust and I made sure no one could hurt me, but here you are,” She wiped a stray tear that ran down her cheek, “You pushed through the walls I’ve built and now I’m afraid to lose you.”

(Y/N) ran her hand through her hair again, she probably looked so pathetic to Charles.

“You could never look pathetic,” Charles reached his hand out to her which (Y/N) hesitantly took, “I know I said this wouldn’t change anything, but perhaps it can change just a little?”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Perhaps once I get out of here we can go on a date?” Charles asked nervously, “You don’t have to agree, and we can continue like normal, but now that I know for sure that you harbor feelings towards me maybe we can-”

(Y/N) stood from her seat to press her lips to Charles’s cutting off his ramblings. She pulled away from the kiss and smiled, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

Charles grinned, almost looking like his old cheeky self. He might have lost some things in Cuba, but he gained something too. He’d be damned if he let (Y/N) be taken away from him too. “I hope you know you’re stuck with me now.”

“I guess I can live with that,” (Y/N) laughed, “But promise me one thing okay?” At Charles nodded, (Y/N) continued, “Never tell anyone that I sang to you.”

Charles laughed despite her serious look, “I promise not to tell anyone.”

#Charles Xavier #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier x fem reader #x men x reader #X-men #x-men x reader #x-men x fem reader #mutant reader

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script-nef · 4 years

Text

Kiss and Bite | Bakugou Katsuki

Inspiration: [“God, you’re so fucking cute.”] | Spy AU

Category: fluff

1.3k words; only one person can deal with Bakugou when he’s raging

Thundering steps and loud profanities echoing through the hallways means only one thing: Bakugou is back from his mission, and it didn’t go exactly as planned by the meticulous and easily irritable spy.

Everyone in the organisation knows the drill by now: don’t even look at his general direction, don’t get in his way, don’t be Deku and most importantly, do not even be near [Surname] [Name] when he finds you. 99% of the people who break these end up in the infirmary for at least a day or two.

“C’mon, Bakugou, the mission ended fine!” Kirishima is known in the organisation as the only one brave, close, or stupid enough to approach the volatile man in his rage mode other than you. “You took care of the guy and there weren’t any witnesses! It’s fi-” An explosion against his hardened skin shuts the redhead up. It barely makes a dent in his enthusiasm and smile, but Kirishima steps aside to let Bakugou continue in his little tantrum.

He kicks the door to your room open, uncaring of your shrieks at the sudden intrusion. Stomping over, he yanks you out of the chair and slams you onto the couch. You barely have time to respond to his antics before he splays out onto the sofa and digs his head into your lap.

“What went wrong this time?” You’re fairly used to his behaviour by now, being in a relationship for three years does that. One of the tricks you learnt in that time is that raking your hand through his hair helps to calm him down. An incoherent grumble leaves him. “What was that?”

“I said, the new guy is fucking useless!” He snaps, a hand clutching your knee. “He doesn’t know jack shit yet he insists he does, ignores me, the one in charge, and has the fucking audacity to say ‘My bad, I’ll be better next time.’ like he thinks I’m gonna give him one! I’m going to blow up this entire fucking organisation if they force me to even stay in the same room as him.”

While Bakugou may be a terrific spy and an amazing combatant to the point where he’s probably in the top 3 in the huge organisation if they actually rank them, he’s more known for his temperament personality. Never giving anyone a second chance, beating down those who are wasting his time with useless jabber and crushing those who get in his way; he’s the primary cause of dread and fear in most of the other spies’ lives even more than the possibility of death from their jobs.

Some are seriously concerned for you because you’re dating him. A girl once came up to you and asked “what do you see in him?” out of genuine curiosity which was replied with an explosion near her face because Bakugou popped up out of nowhere in time to hear the question. She apparently remains traumatised to this day.

“Ah, that guy. Yeah, he has a bad rep. Okay, I’ll sure you don’t get paired up with him ever again to the best of my abilities. Don’t waste your energy on him, love.” Shifting, he looks straight up to your face.

“You can fucking do that? And you did nothing for the past week?”

“Yeah? I’m the best tech expert in this place, babe. I basically manage everything if it’s electronically filed. I’m also not technically cleared or allowed, so I can’t do it whenever I want. I take my job very seriously, you know.” He scoffs at that. “I do! But I’ll make an exception this time for you and only you. Ah, and Izuku I guess.”

“Wait, are you the reason Deku’s been on constant missions with half-and-half? Is that why he told me to thank you?”

“Ah, did he? Aw, what a sweetheart. Also, I only did it once and the higher-ups thought they work well together which is why they’re working together now. I’m glad I helped him, and now I’m going to help you! Pass me the laptop, please.” Bakugou grumbles but does as asked. With your legs stretching out onto the table and device safely positioned on the couch arm, you go to work.

The room becomes quiet except for the constant clicking of keys and occasional clicks. That, coupled with the hum of computer mainframes on your table, morphs into white noise and slowly lulls the exhausted man to sleep. Until you shake him, that is.

“Katsuki, Katsuki! I hacked into the database of the other organisation! Oh thank god, I was so damn stressed about this since it’s crucial for a mission that’s coming up! I can actually sleep well no—oh no, what’s that?” He growls as he’s roused from sleep and gives you a scowl which would have reduced anyone else into a whimpering mess. But you’re not looking at him. “Oh dear, it’s encrypted. This is going to be a pain… but it’s no match for me! I shall not sleep until this is solved! Ah, I already did the change for you so don’t worry, love. Go to sleep, sorry for waking you.” Giving him a small peck, you return to the laptop screen.

Bakugou stares at you from your lap. He admires your passion for technology and work which is only rivalled by him when he’s on the field, though he doesn’t like how you neglect yourself when immersed in assignments. Your eyes glint in the monitor light because you’re too damn close to it and he has half a mind to yank you back by the head. You’d whine and shout and give him those pitiful puppy eyes which always makes him weak, so maybe not.

A small grin forms on your lips as you talk under your breath, glee seeping into your eyes. With a slam of the enter button, you squeal as information floods the device. “Done and done! Oh, they must have thought so low of me if they made it that easy, I don’t know whether to be happy or offended! I’m feeling good so I’ll lean towards happy, and for that, I’ll leave them a little gift. Now, what would be nice… spyware? Worms? Trojan horses?”

You ramble on with more technical jargon and Bakugou just zones out. You look absolutely delighted at the prospect of making life hell for your opponent and he smirks and your half-deranged laughs. People think you’re so innocent and nice due to your limited contact with the other members of the organisation since you don’t really come out of your ‘lair’, but Bakugou knows how cruel you can be sometimes. He loves your scheming face.

“God, you’re so fucking cute.” You freeze at that, the clacking of keyboards immediately stopping. Bakugou swears he can hear creaks from your neck as your head stiffly faces his, ears tinted a lovely red. Splutters of embarrassed squeals escape you and you lightly slap his arm while the other hand shields your face. Bakugou also loves your flushed face.

It’s kind of annoying right now, though. He’s too damn tired and your thighs are comfortable. So he reaches up to grab the back of your neck and pulls you down, latching his lips to yours. Grinning, he gnaws on your lower lip and drinks in your frantic squeaks. After what feels like eons to you, but is mere seconds in reality, his lips detach from yours with a small ‘pop’.

“Now be quiet and let me sleep.” He twists to fold his arms around your waist and digs his face onto the lower belly, breathing in your scent. He’s out in mere seconds, leaving you stupefied with a bloody lip and an overheating face.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha imagine #boku no hero academia imagine #bnha one shot #boku no hero academia one shot #bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #fluff #insp: phrase #spy AU #female reader

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notgonnarememberthis · 3 years

Text

today (of all days) - pt. 3

Hello!! I’m not gonna lie this chapter was a,,, problem. I struggled with ideas for so long but I finally landed on something I like!! This hiatus has been killer on my inspiration for writing but I’m determined to finish this! Hope y’all enjoy!

Gil is barely home for 5 minutes when a knock resounds through the apartment. After a couple of drinking celebrating his promotion to lieutenant, he’s feeling a bit fuzzy headed when he pulls the door open. Jessica stands in the center a bottle in hand and a dazzling smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Surprise!” She squeals. ��I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the actual celebration, Ainsley practically hugged my leg refusing to let me leave until I read to her.” Gil smiles despite the obvious lie. He knows the truth, that she can’t be around all those officers. Looks of suspicion or pity on their faces as they stare at her.

“That’s alright Jess.” He chuckles stepping aside for her to come in. She sweeps in with all the grace she can, immediately stepping into his kitchen and retrieving the glasses. She knows where they are by now, that should make him laugh but when he sees the bottle again after she sets it on the counter he stops in his tracks.

“Oh, Malcolm wants to go out with you to celebrate your promotion too. I thought it’d be nice for it to just be the two of you and Ainsley and I could have a mommy daughter day.”

“I’d like that.” He says, only half paying attention to what she’s saying. He can see it now, the way her shoulders are knotted, like an invisible string is the only thing keeping her upright. Her flowing steps are more controlled than usual, extra precautions taken to not see her even stumble.

He follows her to the couch where he pours them both a drink. She doesn’t down the first like she normally would on nights like these. He wonders if this is her first drink. “Are you listening?”

He blinks, caught in his analysis. “No, sorry.”

“Ainsley has her first competition of the season in three weeks. You’ll make it right?”

“Of course. How can I miss New York’s most promising young figure skater?” He sees the spark in her eye just before it fades. A momentary happiness before being drowned out by whatever is on her mind.

“Good because she hasn’t stopped talking about showing off the new spiral she learned.” She doesn’t meet his eyes as she’s speaking. It’s a rambling sort, where she’s saying literally anything that’s on her mind rather than getting to the heart of the issue. It takes until he finishes this drink to bring himself to stop her.

“Jess, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” She smiles, the one she saves for reporters and on her worse days, her children.

“You haven’t even been able to look at me for the past fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not true.” “Then look at me.” She purses her lips, tilting her head before she finally meets his gaze. Almost immediately her mask falls apart, tears building in her eyes as she struggles to hold eye contact. “What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s ridiculous.”

“Not to me.” She drops her head into her free hand, eyes settling on the amber liquid in her glass. “Jessica, talk to me.”

She sighs, but relents, “I ran into an old friend.”

“Oh?”

“His name is Thomas, we grew up together basically. Gave our parents hell in the way only two children of stupidly wealthy families can.”

“Hard to imagine you being rowdy.”

“Oh, I had a whole rebel faze in high school.” She laughs and he joins in. “We would sneak out, drink on the hood of his car, act gloriously stupid.”

“Jess,”

“He’s different. We both are. He took over his father’s business, would’ve been my parent’s dream match for me. Maybe that’s why I was excited to see him again.” She places her glass at the table frantically wiping her eyes before the tears fell. “I could’ve made it right.”

“It’s not your job to make it right.”

“I know.” She sighs. “It just felt like a sign? When I talked to him it was just like old times. He didn’t treat me like-”

“Like the Surgeon’s ex-wife.”

“Exactly.” She picks up her drink again, maybe just for something to cling to. “Well, Adolpho did some digging. Turns out Thomas has an exclusive deal with Barbara Walters.”

“She was using him to get a story.” She nods her head tilted down as her shoulders begin to shake. “I’m so sorry Jess.”

“I just” She sniffs trying to take a deep breath to control the tears. “I thought this was different. Someone finally taking interest in me, not the Whitlys.” She spits the name with a venom she hadn’t before. Long ago she explained why she kept the last name. Now he wonders if she regrets her choice. “Feels stupid now.”

“It wasn’t stupid Jess.” He puts his drink down, reaching to her slowly. He places his hands on her arms.

“Most days I’m fine. I have all I need in my life with Malcolm and Ainsley and-” Her eyes dart away at the almost confession. He tries not to hope that she was going to finish that sentence with you. “But I’m so lonely. But nobody wants to be with the ex-wife of a serial killer.”

“That’s not all you are.”

“That’s all they see me as.”

“Not to me.” She stops, her eyes going wide for a second.

She takes a deep, shaky breath. Her voice is so quiet it's like she’s afraid to ask. “What do you see?”

He runs his hands down her arms scooting closer. “I see an amazing mother. One who gives up everything to make sure her kids are happy. One who hunted down therapist after therapist for one Malcolm felt comfortable with and never gave up. One who talks about her kids for half an hour before even thinking about herself.” She smiles, a soft broken smile. “I see someone who’s resilient and strong. Hell, I still keep the mental image of when you punched the journalist who tried to talk to Malcolm.”

“Not my best moment.”

“I beg to differ.” He chuckles. “I see your passion. You want to help people, even if they don’t want your help. You’re a good person Jess.”

“Tell that to Barbara Walters.”

“She doesn’t know you. Not like we do. You are tough as hell, and beautiful too.” Her breath catches in her throat at that. He wonders how long it’s been since anyone has called her beautiful. A heavy silence falls over the room. He opens his mouth again but before he can continue her lips are on his.

It feels like his entire mind short circuits for a second. He’d thought of kissing her about a hundred times but never could he think of acting on it. He wishes he could catalogue every feeling but she pulls away too soon.

Her eyes are wide and guilty. A fresh sort of shame washes over him as well, thinking maybe she regrets it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s ok Jess.” “You’re a good man and for a second I just wanted to pretend like I could ever deserve someone like you.”

“Jess.”

“You are so good to my family. Malcolm thinks of you like a father and god how could I jeopardize that?”

“Jessica.”

“I’m so sorry can we-” He cuts her off by cupping her face with both hands and pulling her to him. She tenses when her lips touch his, hands hovering in between them. She relaxes when his thumb runs gently over her cheekbone and she knots her fingers into the front of his turtleneck.

He thinks he could stay there forever, just kissing her. Relishing in the feeling of her nails combing through his hair. She deepens the kiss pulling a groan from the depth of his chest. He feels her smile and laugh against his mouth and he moves a hand to her hip to pull her even closer.

She seems to have a better idea when she pulls away, only for a second to swing her leg over his lap straddling him. He doesn’t even have time to react before she’s kissing him again. He runs his fingers through her curls, they’re as soft as he thought they would be. When her tongue swipes across his he can taste the bourbon and a hint of vodka on her lips.

The confirmation of what he thought earlier is like being doused in freezing water. He pulls away but she immediately goes to attack his neck instead. “Jess.” He runs his hands over her back trying to get her attention. She only makes an inquisitive sound in response. “We’re drunk.” She hums in confirmation as if that was the most obvious thing. “Jess, stop.”

She pulls away and he watches the guilt appear again. “You’re right.”

“No, listen.” He brushes back the hair that fell in front of her face. “I want this, but I want you to want this when you’re sober.”

“I do.”

“Then we will try this again later. Why don’t you take my bed again tonight?”

“Only if you come with.” He tilts his head in disapproval as she stands, slightly uneven on her feet. She raises her hands sticking on her bottom lip. “No funny business, I promise.” Her expression changes, growing more serious. “I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Fine.” He relents and her smile reappears. “But no funny business.”

“I promise.”

When they settle into bed Jessica is once again wearing one of his shirts. He’s beginning to wonder if she doesn’t bring spare clothes for the purpose of stealing his t-shirts on nights they get drunk. He decides he doesn’t mind when she turns, placing her head on his chest listening to his heart until it lulls her to sleep.

The next morning when he wakes up she’s already gone. He spies the note on his nightstand with her careful swirling handwriting.

Belluci’s, tonight at 8. Wear something nice.

XO, Jessica

#gilica #prodigal son #jessica whitly x gil arroyo #gil arroyo x jessica whitly #jessica x gil #jessica whitly #gil arroyo #5+1 Things #5+1 fic #notgonnarememberthis fics #fanfic #prodigal son AU #gilssica #today (of all days)#today (of all days) pt 3 #today (of all days) part 3

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years

Text

Highway to Heaven (Taeyong x you)

Another short one shot.

You and Taeyong! Bringing back Highway to Heaven coz that song is my all time fave!

Enjoy!

"The number you are calling is not active, please try again." A cheery-apologetic tone greets me again. Yes again.

I sigh realizing there's no more reason to try and redial his number. Of course the same answer will be given. A dozen of apologies, sweet nothings, and another false promises of "make it up to you."

I toss my phone to the couch along with myself, turn the TV on and decided to at least cheer myself up. I glance at my wrist and note the time shown on my watch : 07.00 pm. We were supposed to be together; I don't know probably eating our main course while laughing and reminiscing the journey of our love story which just turns 2 years today. However, since 05.00 pm I've been dressed up nicely, waiting patiently for my busy boyfriend to at least ring me up and tell me to get ready as he is on his way. But no. Nothing happens according to the plan. We agreed this morning through a call that he will leave to pick me at 05.00pm and we will head to the restaurant he reserved.

I tap my heels on the ground, and try to think rationally. Maybe his battery died and the road is crowded. Yeah that must be the reason. I mean.. he won't forgot this right? It's our special night and I can understand we were both busy in the morning, that's also the reason we decided to spend our special night together, I left work earlier today just to be ready.. but here I am still waiting over my missing boyfriend.

I reach my phone and type a short message to another person; hoping that he knows the latest news update about my date.

Soon after he reads my text message, he calls me.

"Hey, sorry if I disturb your night.. but.. are you still practicing?" I ask a bit worried.

The man over the line sounds out of breath as he answers my question. "No you're not disturbing. Yeah our practice got hold up. And I'm not sure if we are ending soon. Why?"

"ah.." I noted to myself. Then he must be busy, that's why he doesn't pick up my calls nor answer my texts.

"Is something wrong? Do you need any help?"

"Oh it's nothing. Okay thank you for the news, Jae. Have you guys eaten dinner?" I worry about their health. It is almost past dinner time, and I'm also starving.

"We just ate gimbab. Do you want to speak to Taeyong? I guess you called me because he did not pick up his calls.. am I right?" Jaehyun playfully questions me.

Well before knowing Taeyong, Jaehyun is my best friend and since his debut with NCT, I am introduced by him as his best-est friend. Saying that his motivator is me, and he can debut because I supported him. From that moment I look around and introduce myself, there are sparks flying when I saw Taeyong's sincere smile. And because of that, I decided to find a job which allows me to have more time with them (especially their leader). That resulted in me being their stylist. I work with 2 other stylist, but I am the head of the group.

Back to the call.

"I can understand. Tae is busy right? Just please tell him not to overwork himself. And please tell him to update me if he'll be coming tonight. That's all. I'll probably come with some foods in 40 minutes." I speak as I gather my things up and reach for my coat.

It's starting to get cold, and despite the disappointment, rage, and sadness in my heart, Iput it aside first to support Tae and the boys. I mean it's not his fault. Their comeback is near and I knew since day 1 that His idol career comes first. I begged him to do that, for the sake of both of our well being.

"Great! My break is over. I need to end the call. Be safe darl!" Jaehyun sends a kiss over the call and I smiled.

I grab my keys and lock my apartment door. Driving to the nearest Chinese take-out restaurants, I ordered ten portions of jajangmyeon and three tangsuyuk. Then my car accelerates to their prison. Oops I mean their studio.

I come on time. While taking the lift, I happen to walk-over their dance teacher and he told me NCT is done for tonight. I bow to him and rush to get to their door. It's almost 08.00 pm and I'm also starving.

The door opens and everyone's eyes looked up to the plastic bag in my hands.

"OUR ANGEL IS HERE! GOSH! We almost starve to death! The devil here is starving us!" Haechan screams and runs to help me carry the heavy bags. Though I'm pretty sure he did it not out of gentleness but because he is starving.

Taeyong seems surprised to see me walking into the studio with dinner and a nice outfit. Yeah I have no time to change, actually it's just a plain black dress hugging me nicely, and Taeyong is always hungry for me in a simple fitting attire. I wear the coat he gave me, a long outer coat which he nicely decorated for me. Seeing me in that special outfit, he seems to remember something. It's irregular for me to show up this proper, usually I grab a comfortable sweatshirt and sweatpants, because sometimes I want to dance along and skirts are just forbidding me to break dance. I see him face-palms himself and messes his hair. A sign whenever he's contemplating with himself.

I broke our eye contact and a part of my heart feels bad for him, he must be working so hard yet he is still trying to make time for me.. that makes me feel bad for urging him to bring me for a date tonight. Another part feels more relieved that Tae does not entirely forget his promise... but still the tiniest bit of my heart aches as I realize another special day is coming to an end with failed plans.

"Tae, how are you sweetie?" I walk to him and stand on my toes to cup his face.

He leans closer to me and after giving me a peck on my lips, he whispers "I'm sorry.. I'll make it up to you.. I swear you look beautiful."

"Shh. Keep it for tonight. Let's eat first I'm starving." I grin and pull him to join the others. He forces a smile at first, but upon eating together with me and the others his smile changes.

Thanks to Haechan and Doyoung bickering over pouring the sauce or dipping the tangsuyuk, we all had a happy dinner.

I finish my plate and reach to help Taeyong since he looks super tired.

"Aaaaa" I raise the chopstick to his mouth and grab the whole group's attention.

Taeyong plays along and happily lets me feed him. The other members are comfortable enough with the two of us dating and being cheesy, they even help us do anything we did not think at first.

"Ah I'm jealous. I also want someone to feed me." Winwin pouts while stirring his bowl.

"Let me," Yuta excitedly grabs Winwin's bowl and the whole group laughs.

Dinner ended nicely, we put the trashes into the plastic bag and throw it away.

"So.. are we staying or go back?" Mark questions the team after a good one hour break.

"I think we can call it a night." Jaehyun rushes and looks over to Taeil and Johnny: sending a signal.

"Right! We've done well, and I think a good rest is also important for our health." Taeil, as the oldest, states.

I lookat Jaehyun with questionable face but he just throws me his dimple smile. I knew it.. he must've caught on what's happening between me and Tae.

Yes, Jaehyun is a quick man. He saw my attire, he saw how Taeyong acts like he feels bad about something and when he asks Johnny and Taeil does it make sense if their leader is forgetting a special day.. or unable to fulfil a special day promise... the two agree and so they plan to let Taeyong has his night.

"Okay, let's divide the cars. Yuta, Winwin, mark and Haechan you go together. Then we'll take the other car." Johnny stands up and gathers his belongings.

The others cheer and scatter across the studio, cleaning up their mess and picking up their coats. The younger ones leave first and Taeyong with his puzzled face asks the remaining 4

"What is that? I haven't spoken a word and they're gone?" Taeyong picks up his phone and pockets it.

"It's okay Tae, we know.. Anyways.. Happy anniversary for the two of you!" Doyoung pats Taeyong's shoulder, smiles to me and walks to exit the door.

"We will bring the other members home, so you can have your time." Johnny winks and exits.

Before Taeyong could open his mouth, Jaehyun shuts him up "Be gentle okay! My best friend here is fragile!" Jaehyun laughs and leave too.

"All the best for you two! No worries Tae, the dorm is under my control. Enjoy the night!" Taeil waves and closes the door.

Taeyong's face flushed red and he hides his face behind his hands. I laugh at his cuteness and hug his left hand.

"So.. they are giving you for me tonight! It's nice of them. Shall we go?" I sound happy and excited. Like I forgot what he made me do... waiting for him for a good 2 hours.

"Gosh.. yeah they're unpredictable. Anyways.. as I said.. I'll make it up to you. Now.. where to?" he grabs his coat and then turns off the lights.

He takes over my car and drives to my apartment. The whole ride is full with rambles of apologies and cries of frustration from Taeyong.

"My phone died.. I didn't get any of your calls.. and the dance teacher did not let us have breaks.. I'm super sorry you have to reach Jaehyun to ask for my update.. gosh it looks like Jaehyun is a better man than me."

I quickly deny him, "hey! What are you talking about. You are my man.. I'm dating you not him.. and I can understand your reason for not picking me up. Don't blame yourself Tae. Look, I've forgiven you.. and let's promise each other to not discuss about this at all. Tonight we'll spend it well and forget everything else behind. Just for-" I glance at my watch "- for 3 hours, we'll spend them nicely okay."

Taeyong lets a tear fall and I tease him for being a softie, which successfully brings a smile on his face.

That night, he compliments me for wearing his favorite dress, but then things are more interesting after we finish half bottle of our wine and truths are spilled here and there. As the night deepens, so did our kiss. He ends up undressing me from his so-called favorite dress and goes way wilder than what Jaehyun advised.

The intense rock on my bed leaves the two of us gaping and smiling as we reach for one another's warmth. The heater does not need to work tonight, and after-glows with Taeyong are always wonderful.

I run my fingers over his hair which wetly sticks to his godly face. Tracing my digits over his sharp jawline and bringing his hair back. I clean the strands of hair covering his face and lean in closer to my favorite part of his face.

It was not his dreamy eyes, cute nose, or sexy lips.. Taeyong closes his eyes as I inch closer to put a kiss on his scar. The scar he had when he was a child, the scar he used to hide , but I made him love that and be proud of it.

Yes, I always kiss his scar softly and mumbles out how his beauty never decreased. How his scars are beautiful too and that really helps Taeyong boosts his confidence..

He embraces me deeper, planting marks over my necks claiming me as his, trailing down my collar bone and leaving butterfly kisses down my left arm. He reaches to hold my left arm and plants a not too short not too long kiss over my pulse on my left hand. It was not pretty. There are traces and marks of dirty lines, deep cuts were once there. Cutting had once been my drug and Jaehyun helped me get through it a lot. If I can treasure Taeyong's flaw.. so can he.

He rubs the fading scars gently and as we lock eyes one more time, our bodies involuntarily move again and the night is long.

We climbed up and down our ecstasy, letting all of our feelings go out. Sweet was there, anger raged there, tears were flowing out of our eyes, we let out all of our emotions out and cleans the mess up with a sweet round. We always bring our emotions to bed and to finish them, a round full of praises and love will drives the two of us to dream land and be the reason our chain link strengthen.

It isnever easy watching Taeyong beside pretty and perfect "Barbie dolls". He too did not find it easy whenever someone flirts with me when I did their hair and clothes. Working for a model company and as a model itself, sometimes make Taeyong's blood boils.

The bed becomes our war zone and paradise. Thanks to this activity we always did whenever we felt we've kept too much.. we can go stronger each day.

"I love you Tae, don't be sorry alone. I am also sorry for not considering your tight schedule." I reach out for his hand after we descended our high together.

"You're a true understanding angel. It's not wrong the guys call you angel. And I am your Mr. Demon, but I'm really sorry you always end up like this."Taeyong smirks.

"Yeah. Anyways, we can't live without one another. And I always enjoys ending up at the bed like this with you. This is a real pain and pleasure experience. I got to say other couples have to try this." I trace abstract lines over his chest.

He giggles a bit from the feeling and returns my action by drawing circles on my sweaty back "What? Try to get half drunk and rock their bed while releasing each other's stress? And then wrapping up with a sweet round? I guess we might as well make a video out of it and be the nice example." Taeyong chuckles and pulls me closer to him. His legs intertwine mine and I punch him for his ideas.

"You want other people seeing my body? Gosh! You don't even let me take the offers for an underwear photo shoot." I rise my eyebrow judging.

He bites his lips and drags his hand lower to my back.

"That's because many men will use you to get off. And I don't like that. Gosh... don't you know how hard was it for me to control myself when you show up in that black dress earlier only with my outer coat. Don't you see the fire In their eyes." Taeyong pouts upon mentioning this.

"And earlier you said you want to make a cam about our activity. I'm confused.. so do you actually want to share me or not." I laugh and Taeyong quickly shuts me with a kiss.

"Never. I was kidding. You're mine and only mine to see touch and feel. You're my precious." He clings into me like a koala to a tree.

I rub his hair and bury my face over his crook of shoulder. Inhaling his scent, I found my peace back. All of my anger and disappointment is gone as we did one round full of rage earlier.. and now I found my peace back as my eyelids grew heavier.

"Sleep tight my cherry-bomb. Happy 2 years anniversary." Taeyong fixes the blanket over us and we both sleep well.

The sun shyly peeks from my window shades and after much tossing and turning, we cannot find a position where the sun ray did not burn our eyes. We failed. So we wake up... have our nice bath together.. Another quick round and finally sit for breakfast. It's Sunday and Taeyong has his free day. We ignore our phone since last night and just enjoy catching up with one another over a warm glass of coffee and smooth pancakes. Taeyong sits on his stool and his hand reaches for a new magazine lying in the table. Gosh I forgot to keep my latest magazine. I pray Taeyong did not notice anything.. or did not even open the pages. But he did. I mean there's no reason he did not check a fashion book. He's always following trends and modes.

True enough I hear him turning the pages and stops on one image. I waitor his reaction and voila!

"What is this photo shoot for?" He always asks the same question: whenever he saw a picture of me and a male model.

"Umm.. the dress of course." I answer him, still not facing him

"This?" he points at the photo.. I turn around and see my latest photo shoot. Woah it's nice though.

"A wedding photo shoot Tae.. you never forbid me in taking one right?" I flip the last pancake and transfer it to the plate with arranged fruits.

"Yeah yeah... I want to do that too!" he pouts as he flip the next pages and found more.

"You did this many!" he shakes his head

"Well, you can ask your manager..and maybe get one for yourself."

"No! I mean the real one... not with a model.. not for a magazine. Us.. our wedding picture." He smirks and I freeze in my place with face as red as a brick.

He closes the book, pushes it aside and grabs his fork to start digging in.

"I'm looking up for more breakfast like this with you. Remember that, my goal is a wedding picture with you. Now, good morning my cherry-bomb. Thanks for last night." He speaks as he puts in a mouthful of the pancake and berries.

"Stop making me blush. It's still too early." I lose my cool.

"It's ten.. quite not early. But I'm in for more Sundays like this." Taeyong winks and I have to look elsewhere to make my heart beat slower.

The morning continues with more cheesy lines and soft side of Taeyong shown. I got to admit this is why I fall in love with him every day. There seems to be more and more things that I found out about him and his charms.

"To the man I love now and forever, Lee Taeyong, cheers" I bring my coffee cup to bump his.

"To the woman I love now til forever meets a long time! Wait for me to make us a home." He bumps the mug and we drink our bitter sweet coffee.

It's afternoon and I am working on the modification of NCT's comeback clothes when my phone buzzed. Taeyong is busy across me gluing patches to the jackets.

I reach for my phone and see a pop up message from Jaehyun

"Did he go bomb or cherry? ;;) "

I bite my lips as I quickly reply

"He went highway to Heaven."

"Aw man I lose."

"What? What did you bet now.."

"Johnny said it will be Bomb.. I said Cherry.. and Doyoung won. Gosh how unlucky are we."

"Well congrats to my rabbit prince. What are you losing Jae?"

"House chores for the whole week. Okay enjoy your time."

"who's that?" Taeyong has been waiting for me to drop my phone. He looks curious and a bit annoyed. We agreed to not use the phone at all until Monday..

"Sorry.. it's Jaehyun"

"and.. what did he say?" Taeyong sounds cool. He knew Jaehyun and me are only friends. And he trusts Jaehyun with all his heart: he even wished he was his brother.

"He asked if yesterday was Cherry or Bomb.." I reply while fixing my eyes on the jacket in front of me. It's Winwin's costume and I need to decorate his.

"uh-huh.. and.." Taeyong bites his lips. He's also curious what I think about last night.

"Highway to Heaven Tae," I wink at him and he hypes up. He acts like he win a Nobel prize and suddenly returns to his cool image.

"that's hot. Accurate. Now we should stop flirting if we want to finish the jackets and have another round. Tell me how you would like it." He bites his lips and shoots me his hand.

"Stop it Tae! I can't concentrate." I close my eyes and take several deep breathes.

"Arraseo.. just tell me okay." He winks and then focuses on his work.. while secretly giggling at how I am super red right now.

"Ah yeah, I love you darling!" he blows me a kiss and acts back to his thinking mode.

He is modifying his own jacket and I'm pretty sure he wants it to be perfect. So I let him stay silent while I finish the rest too.

'We'll take the Highway to Heaven!"

74 notes · View notes

dreaminae · 4 years

Text

We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 9

"Have enough respect to stop lying to my face. What happened in Vegas this summer?" Layla finally asked, fed up with how Spencer spent the last few weeks dancing around the truth.

Spencer anxiously licked his lips, hesitating to find the right words to explain his actions up until this moment.

------------

"How could you not tell me you came to Mexico?" Asher inquired angrily, "How could you pretend not to know about Vanessa when she first came to Beverly?"

Olivia raised her hands to the back of her head in a stressed motion, remaining quiet as she let Asher get his thoughts out.

"Why not confront me, instead of pretending not to care?" Asher pondered. "Why not confront me about my summer unless you have crap to feel guilty about too?"

"Ugh! Why can't we all put summer behind us!" Olivia yelled out to no one in particular.

Summer hadn't been all bad. Most of it she had no problem remembering. All the fun times she shared with Spencer and Kia. Her growth in her hobbies like art and journalism. Those were the things she wanted to focus on.

Not the ending. Because it sucked. She wanted to bury the last few weeks of summer ten feet under, never to remember them again. But she couldn't do it. No matter how many times she attempted to drink her pain away, there the remnants were.

The guilt she felt when she looked at Layla and Asher. The heart-tugging yearning Liv felt when her eyes laid on Spencer. The loneliness Olivia felt when her parents failed to see her shattering under her picture-perfect smile. But especially the disappointment that caved her insides when Liv saw herself in the mirror every day.

"Maybe because this summer meant something to me." Asher choked up. "I realized a lot of things about myself this summer."

"You mean Vanessa helped you realize..." Liv snapped jealously.

"No, I did. I did the work all on my own." Asher responded firmly. "I'm not the same guy that torpedoed my life and got kicked out of his house, Liv," Asher explained. "I don't need you to rescue me anymore. Maybe I never did."

"Is that how I make you feel?" Liv asked, hurt by the thought. "Co-dependent."

"It's not a bad thing." Asher soothed as Liv's eyes filled with tears. "You can't stand by to see the people you love in pain. You have a good heart, and you want to help whenever you can. It's one of the things I love about you." He detailed kindly, mentally recalling all the times she supported him last year.

"But?" Olivia asked, knowing that a contradiction was coming.

"But I don't think that's what I need. Not anymore." Asher concluded. "I can stand on my own, and solve my problems without needing rescuing."

"Where does that leave us?" Olivia wondered aloud, unclear where that put her in his life presently.

"We aren't the same people that we were last year." Asher recognized. "Both of us have changed since summer, and ignoring that fact is causing more hurt than anything."

"I never meant to let you down, Ash." Olivia sighed heavily.

"I see how close you and Spencer are since spending the entire summer together," Asher noted from interactions he observed this afternoon. "And you put on a good act dealing with me and Vanessa's history, we always promised to be honest with each other."

"We were friends first." Olivia cried, praying this wasn't how they ended.

"And one day we'll get back to that," Asher assured her, but still making clear they needed some space for now. "I just think we should put some distance between us for now."

"Yeah, I guess so." Liv nodded lightly, letting the tears fall, keeping her arms crossed as her first clenched tightly to oppress the pain she felt watching Asher walk away from her.

At that moment she didn't mourn her dead relationship, but rather a sadly ruined friendship.

----------------------------

"Are you listening to yourself, Spencer? Do you hear how insane you sound?" Layla asked, stunned by the revelation. "You told Olivia--my best friend-- that you love her. Then hooked up with me right after." Layla repeated, trying to wrap her head around how absurd his actions sounded.

"I know I've made a mess, but I didn't mean for things to play out the way they did." Spencer failed to justify his actions. "I'd made a promise to wait for you, and I didn't want to let you down. I know how far you came since last year, and I didn't want to risk your recovery."

"No, you don't get to use my recovery as an excuse for not manning up, and telling me the truth." Layla shut down Spencer's chance of rationalizing leading her on all these months. "You don't get to decide what I can, and can't handle, Spencer."

"I was trying to protect you, Layla. I didn't want to hurt you." Spencer concluded.

"I didn't ask for your protection. When I brought you to Vegas it was for you to see that I was a stronger me." Layla asserted. "I trusted you to see that I could handle myself, instead of you handling me with kiddie gloves."

"I'm sorry Layla," Spencer repeated, unsure what she wanted him to say.

"Screw your sorries." Layla spat, bypassing him so she could get to her suitcases, "And screw you too, Spencer."

"Layla, don't -" Spencer started but was cut off by her once more.

"You know that night in Vegas you were so busy playing the hero," Layla sneered with a scowl. "You didn't even realize you were the one causing the most damage."

Spencer's mouth shut, unable to argue with that. Sighing, his hand released Layla's, doing what he should've done that night in Vegas. Let her go.

----------------------

Olivia stood by the doorway, watching as Asher loading his things into Layla's car. She hadn't spoken to the other redboned brunette yet, so when Layla finally crossed Liv's path the tension rose to it's peak.

"Layla, I-" Liv's words were halted by Layla's hand raising in a pause gesture.

"I've heard enough apologies for one night." Layla huffed, exhausted from the continued runaround that was their friendship. "I will be damned if I turn myself into a female cliche fighting over a guy."

"I don't want to fight." Olivia soughed. "I never did. I thought we should talk before you leave. That's all."

"Talk about what, Olivia? How you went for another one of exes. Or how about how you let me stay with a guy you knew had feelings for you." Layla listed off, feelings there was nothing to discuss. "In the end, this isn't about Spencer or how your habit of picking up my leftovers. This is about your lack of loyalty, and the truth is you suck as a friend." Layla trashed her former best comrade.

Despite the fact, Olivia knew she and Spencer were in the wrong, she refused to be Layla's emotional punching bag. "What did you want to say, Layla?" Liv quarreled right back. "Huh? Do you wish I would've to Coop's concert that night, found you and been and dropped the bombshell. Great job on the show, and by the way Spencer's no longer has feelings for you because we've fallen for each other."

"Liv, don't -" She heard her brother try to broker peace before things got out hand.

"No, Jordan. I want to know how Layla would've preferred to hear the truth." Olivia dug deeper. "How about over coffee, right. Or walking down the school hallway our first week back. Heads up Layla, your boyfriend loves me not you." Liv laughed coldly. "Would any of those ways have eased your pain, Layla? Because from where I stand all this crap hurts all the same. Whether it be now or Vegas."

"Whatever, Liv." Layla groaning.

"No, you want to call me a bad friend. Let's list all the ways I'm a bad friend." Olivia demanded. "When Spencer first arrived at Beverly you knew I had feelings for him, yet you still went for him. While you were with Asher, might I add? But I put my feelings aside for kept my mouth shut. When you were battle your depression last year, I was one of the first people to help. Even though, after my overdose and me attending rehab, you admitted you hadn't realized my addiction was that serious. And let's not forget our latest conflict. You're going to trash me as a bad friend for not ruining your relationship with Spencer when I honestly thought you two were happy. " Olivia rambled on, finally getting everything off her chest.

"You should've told me the truth," Layla repeated, less coldly than before.

"And you should stop pretending like you never made a mistake before." Olivia immediately responded. "I didn't keep what happened between Spencer and me a secret to hide it like a dirty secret. I did it because you were happy, and I didn't think it mattered anymore."

"That doesn't even make any sense." Layla groaned, unsure what Olivia meant by her last remark. "Why wouldn't it matter that Spencer told you he loved you?"

"Because he went back to you less than two hours afterward." Olivia finally confessed to knowing the not-so-secret hookup. "After Spencer told me how he felt, I rejected him. He called me and asked me not to leave things unsettled. I went to his room to talk, and I saw the two of you." Liv recalled that painful night. "Spencer made a choice - again. And it was you, not me. Again. So I left." Liv wept, refusing to meet Spencer's eyes as she felt his eyes burning into the back of her head.

Layla wiped her own tears, pitying that both of them were tearing their selves apart for a guy who didn't even seem to know who he wanted.

"Even so," Layla finalized. "Too much has happened. And I know when to cut my losses. I'm not going to get in your way anymore. You can have Spencer. Because I'm done with him."

"And with me." Liv finished for Layla, knowing that too much damage had been done to go back.

Layla nodded before grabbing her suitcase once more and marching to her car. She and Asher pulled off not too soon after, followed by J.J accompanied by Vanessa.

Once both cars were out of the view range, Olivia turned to go inside, unsurprised to find Spencer glancing at her with a timid expression.

"You knew." Was all he could work up.

"I knew," Liv muttered coldly, acknowledging the real reason why she hadn't gone back to that night in Vegas. "How could you?"

Spencer's face fell as Olivia conveyed her heartbreak for the first time since Vegas, her eyes glistening over as she shoved past Spencer.

Simone sighed, following Olivia inside to give her a supporting shoulder. Jordan gazed at Spencer with indifference, wondering how his best bud let things get so far out of hand.

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years

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The Other You - 7

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

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Chapter by Maerynn

The first morning Marinette woke up in Chat Noir's mother's apartment, the most accurate word to describe how she was feeling would be "awkward".

Chat had carefully wiped the apartment of any hints of his mother's identity before bringing her here, but Marinette still felt as if she was invading this faceless woman's privacy. Sleeping in her sheets, showering in her bathroom, cooking with her appliances, leafing through her books. And yet, she couldn't help but love it. Marinette knew it was wrong, that she was playing with fire and jeopardizing her own identity, but by living in his late mother's apartment, she felt closer to her partner.

Laying on her back in that wide bed, Marinette found herself wondering what kind of child her partner had been. Had he crawled into his mother's bed at night, claiming to have nightmares to be allowed to sleep in that very same bed? Was he a picky eater, forcing his mother to deploy ingenuity to have him eat his broccoli? Was he the kind of little boy to get into trouble every day or, on the contrary, was he a little angel?

As she stretched out on the comfortable mattress, his ridiculous rent fee came back to her mind—a meal. It was kind of cute, in a way. Yet that obnoxious kitty had to go and ask for the single thing she didn't have to spare: time. Luckily though, being a daughter of two bakers, Marinette had a few quick but tasty recipes up her sleeve, and would probably be able to cater to her partner's culinary needs.

Reluctantly tearing herself from the sheets, she ventured into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Chat Noir was definitely a really thoughtful man. Even though the apartment hadn't been inhabited for the past few years, the fridge was fully stocked with everything she could ever possibly need to cook delicious meals for both of them. Various fresh meat and fish, vegetables, multiple kinds of fruit, and seasonings were waiting for her. The pantry hadn't been forgotten, bursting with spices, crackers, and every possible type of oil, flour, and sugar she would ever wish to use.

With a fond smile dancing on her lips, Marinette wrote a quick list of the supplies she would need to feed her silly kitty over the course of the next week, marveling once again at the apparent infinite kindness of her partner. Why would he go out of his way like this for a girl he hadn't seen in years?

The idea that he was ready to go to such lengths for a long-lost friend made her heart clench painfully in her chest out of longing. Because if she was entirely honest with herself, Marinette wanted more out of their relationship. Way more. She was done hiding behind masks, done playing games. Yet, this recent development had thrown some sand in the gears. How could she reveal herself to him now? He would know what a complete failure she was, would know she had kissed him out of sheer selfishness, would know she had been on the receiving end of his kindness without offering anything back.

No. Keeping her identity to herself, at least up until she could manage to look in the mirror again, was a safer bargain.

She was almost done with her grocery list when her phone chimed on the countertop beside her.

Alya: Please. Let's just talk. Nothing else, I promise. No questions. I just need to see you to make sure you're alright.

Marinette groaned. One would think that if someone wasn't answering your calls and texts for a week, one would give up until that person is ready to reach back. Not Alya. She kept trying, again and again, all while Marinette hesitated. On one hand, she really wanted to avoid revisiting all the issues they had, much less having to explain her new living arrangement. But another part of her, the one that was currently lonely and lost, wanted her best friend back, no matter the cost.

So she shook her head and grabbed her phone before she could change her mind.

Marinette: I'm free around noon.

Alya: Works for me. Usual spot?

That was how Marinette found herself sitting in the café they liked to frequent, nervously sipping on a vanilla latte.

Alya came in right on time, taking a seat in front of her best friend without even bothering to order a drink but not before wrapping her arms around Marinette in a tight hug.

"Okay," Alya said in a soft voice, "I know we have a bunch of things to talk through, and we'll come to it, but first I wanna know if you're safe. A little birdie told me you were sleeping in your office, and I won't let—"

"I was," Marinette cut her rambling short. She knew she had worried Alya sick, that her famous mama bear instincts had kicked in the second Marinette had walked out the apartment. "But I'm not anymore."

"What?" Alya squealed. "Are you homeless? Where is all your stuff? Hang on, I'm going to call Nino and—"

"Alya, stop." Marinette smiled softly to herself, her heart warming up despite herself thinking of her current living arrangements. "I'm staying at a friend's place, that's all you need to know for the time being."

Her best friend eyed her critically, from head to toe. "Who? I know for a fact that you aren't staying with Rose and Juleka or Mylene. Who else could you stay with?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you more than that right now," Marinette sighed. "But it's not someone you know personally, and I really can't say anything."

"Are you sure you can trust this new roommate of yours? How come I have never heard of them before? This whole 'can't tell' sounds a bit fishy, don't you think?"

Marinette sipped on her latte, a fond smile spread on her lips. "I trust him with my life, Al. And he's not living with me, he just lent me somewhere to stay until I get back on my feet."

"So this mysterious friend is a he. Mari, you can't possibly be that naive. He'll expect something in return."

"No. Don't worry, Alya. Not him. He already has someone in his life, anyway."

Marinette could almost picture Tikki rolling her eyes in her purse upon hearing those words, and she had to repress a giggle. In front of her, Alya merely frowned, looking at her friend intently.

At last, seemingly reaching a decision, Alya sighed, "Look, I'm sorry, Mari. I should've realized you were stressed out much more than you let on, and instead of supporting you like a best friend should, I just yelled at you and kept putting pressure on you."

"You've had stuff going on too, with the wedding and everything," Marinette said softly.

Her best friend huffed, looking down at her clasped hands in her lap. "That's no excuse. You clearly needed someone to lean on, and I failed you. Marinette, please come back to the apartment, it's yours as much as it's mine."

The young woman couldn't help the smile that spread on her lips. This was the Alya she knew and loved. The one taking charge of everything, making sure everything was alright, caring for her friends more than herself.

"I can't, Al. You and Nino are gonna be married in a few months, I'm not gonna third-wheel you guys forever. I'm going to be fine."

The frown still lingering on Alya's face was eloquent on its own. She was still worried sick about her friend, worries that had been growing for quite a long time now. "Why don't you quit that sinking job then? Everyone's quitting; it's all over the newspapers."

"I can't quit." Marinette tried to ignore the knot tying her throat up, focusing on explaining herself, at last giving some sort of sense to her actions. "I didn't complete my degree at ESMOD, if you recall. Gabriel pulled me out of school midway, said it was a waste of time and money, that he'd show me everything I'd need to know. And without a degree, I don't really have a bright future unless I prove myself with this new collection—"

"And with him gone that's your only option," Alya ended for her. "Okay. So there's a dude at work that owes me a big favour for conveniently forgetting to mention to his wife he lost his wedding band. I might be able to score you a four-page spread covering the next Gabriel fashion show. Do you think there might be a way to have the months you spent working for Gabriel recognized by ESMOD? I mean, you have paychecks to prove your experience, and definitely the skills to own up to it. Whose ass do I have to kick or kiss to get you your degree?"

Marinette lifted wet eyes toward her friend. Alya had always had her back, through thick and thin, and for a minute, she wondered how she could have let herself forget that. At a loss for words, she ultimately mumbled weakly, "Why would you even help me?"

Alya scoffed, looking at her best friend disbelievingly. "You're my best friend, Mari, and I love you to pieces. Obviously I'm gonna help you tear yourself out of that dump."

***

That same day Marinette stood outside of Adrien's office, sighing softly to herself.

After her talk with Alya, she had devised a bunch of things she had to take care of right away to salvage what was left of her name.

And Gabriel's women's line was among them.

Clutching the heavy folder to her chest, Marinette raised her fist and landed two sharp knocks on the door, her heart beating heavily within her ribcage.

"Come in," Adrien's familiar voice compelled her, tossing all of her worries aside. No matter how she felt, no matter how hurt and lost she was, Gabriel Agreste was gone and there was no one who could help her right now but herself. She had to carry on his legacy and in the process help herself even if it meant dealing with a man she'd rather not even see right now. All that was needed was to be a professional, and that she was.

Taking in a hefty breath, she pushed the heavy door. "Good evening, M Agreste."

"Marinette?" Adrien blinked. He seemed a bit tired. "What can I help you with?"

"I have a favour to ask of you."

Adrien straightened up in his chair, staring at her curiously. He seemed to search his words for a few seconds, before replying disbelievingly, "A favour from me?"

If they were still friends Marinette would almost certainly have giggled, seeing his dumbstruck face, how his hand was still clutching the pen that had halted its course on the paper. But as of now, they weren't, so her face remained emotionless. Yet, for the first time since crossing paths with him again, she really paid attention to him. Saw the dark circles underlining his familiar green eyes behind his glasses. Saw how his hair was wildly swept back, sticking out in every direction. Saw how wrinkled his shirt was, saw how poorly his tie knot had been done.

He looked exhausted, at his wits' end.

He looked broken. Just like her.

Immediately Marinette shook those thoughts away. She was here on a mission, and couldn't let wandering thoughts distract her.

"I need some papers from your father's office in order to proceed with some of the designs. Would you be kind enough to retrieve them for me?"

If he looked surprised a minute before, now Adrien was looking completely dumbfounded. "You have full access to his office at any given time, why would you need me for something like this?"

Shaking her head, Marinette pushed the heavy file on his desk. She couldn't help but notice physics exams scattered through legal documents in front of him. "The designs I need are most likely kept in his personal office at the mansion. I scoured his entire office here without any success."

"The mansion?" Adrien's eyes widened. For a moment he remained silent before quietly adding. "I'm sorry, Marinette, ask me anything but this. I haven't been there since I moved out."

"Maybe you could send someone trustworthy on your behalf then?" She sighed. This conversation wasn't going in the direction she would've liked. "Listen, I understand that going back there might be hard for you emotionally, but those last few designs were the best pieces of the line. If I want to succeed, I need them."

Adrien stared at her for what felt like an eternity. "You need them that much?"

"Desperately."

Raking his hands through his hair, Adrien dropped his pen on the desk beside him and pulled the file she had given him closer. "So, those are the designs you need?" he asked quietly, the traces of uncertainty still lingering in his eyes.

"Yes, those are only preliminary sketches I drew for him in a creative meeting. He should have the final designs with all the specs in his personal files. If I want to meet the deadlines, I need those files. I can't start over from scratch on time."

"Alright," Adrien sighed softly, "I'll get them for you. If they're really in that office, you'll have your designs first thing Monday morning."

A sigh of relief escaped Marinette's lips as his lips twitched into a tiny smile. At that moment she clearly understood that this was an olive branch, offered to her to try and make peace between them after years of a feud that had lasted way too long. She wasn't sure, though, if she was ready to accept it yet.

As she reached forward, shaking his hand firmly while thanking him as professionally as she could, Marinette couldn't help but suddenly wonder if a teenager's mistake was worth ostracizing an adult who had just suffered the loss of his last relative and had had a withering fashion empire thrust upon him without warning, an empire he neither asked for nor wanted to deal with. Walking out of that office, she also found herself thinking that even if she wasn't quite ready to forgive him his past cruel actions, maybe, just maybe, Adrien Agreste wasn't as horrible as she thought he was.

Next >

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #marichat #aged up #ml fanfiction #the other you #myart #my art

45 notes · View notes

writer-k-pop · 4 years

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Misunderstood (P3)

네가 정크 푸드를 먹고 있어서 그는 불행할 거야. He'd be unhappy because you're eating junk food.

Description: 8 months after starting work as Soonyoung's secretary at Starlight Entertainment, the feelings you have for Soonyoung only continue to grow. When you accidentally end up confessing to him, will he respond and let you into his life or shut you out? Will what you've seen and learned about him in the past eight months be enough? Warnings: Swearing Genre: Angst, Fluff, CEO!Soonyoung/Hoshi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5.8k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

2 months later

"Late morning, sir?" Seungkwan's voice seeped through the office door.

"Something like that." Soonyoung replies.

I raised my head when the office door opened and Soonyoung walked in dressed very formally. I stood to greet him.

"Morning, (y/n)." Soonyoung beat me to words, "Sorry for being late. I had an appointment."

"Morning." I took my seat again and briefly looked at the calendar, "It wasn't written here."

Soonyoung shook his head, setting up his desk for the day, "It was a last minute thing."

I nodded slowly, "Is it the reason you're wearing formal wear and making me look lazy in the process?" I joked, looking down at my simple but clean outfit.

"Partly yes." Soonyoung answered but quickly rephrased, "I mean, I needed to wear this for the appointment and something I have later on tonight but you could never look lazy. You always look great in your outfits."

My shoulders straightened slightly at his comment. "Oh, thank you."

"Some days, even, I feel like you out-dress me. Which makes me look lazy." He rambled on, trying to make up for something.

I laughed, "That's a pretty high compliment coming from the CEO of Starlight." Straightening a stack of documents, I head over to his desk with the papers and a notepad. "These are the finances from the previous quarter's releases and debuts." I informed him and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Soonyoung took the documents from me and flips through them before nonchalantly setting them aside. "Our schedule for the day?" He asked, leaning forward, expectantly. I don't know when he started calling it 'our schedule' but I noticed it about a couple months ago. Though every time I try to ask about it, he does what he does best and skirts around it, usually changing subjects. So I decided to just stop asking.

"Let's see." I opened my folder and pulled out the day's schedule, "There's a meeting in 20 minutes about Starlight's finances.”

Soonyoung sighs heavily, "Boring."

"That's what you always say, yet you always pay so much attention in those meetings." I countered but before he could reply, I moved on. "Then you immediately go into rehearsals for Basics and that new group who's name you still have to finalize. They also requested lunch with you so I've arranged for some sandwiches to be delivered to the practice rooms for that."

I glanced up and saw Soonyoung pouting and looking down at his attire which is not fit to be in the practice room.

I nodded towards the closet in the corner, "You seem to forget that you have at least two changes of clothes in there for times like these."

His face lit up at the reminder and I shook my head. Sometimes I believed that if I wasn't around, the poor man would forget his head somewhere.

"What's after all that?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Well, because you were late and missed your 9am meeting, I moved it to 3pm." I read off, "Then after that, there's nothing."

"Great!" Soonyoung suddenly exclaimed. "How would you like to go out with me tonight?" He asked, shocking me into silence.

I cleared my throat, "Uhm, it's not Thursday, Soonyoung. We usually go out on Thursday nights." I said nervously, wondering why the sudden change.

He shakes his head, "It's not Thursday, but we can still have dinner together, no?" He tilts his head to the side in question.

"I mean, yeah, I guess so." I answered, "Where would you like to go? I'll make the reservation."

Soonyoung shrugged, "Wherever you want to go. You pick tonight." He smiled warmly.

I smiled back, though my mind was racing trying to find a suitable place. "I will do that. Anything else?"

"You want more than dinner?" He asked, shocked. "I mean we could also do dessert but that might be a lot of food. And it might be late when we do, are you sure you can stay up that late?"

I chuckled, "I meant about your daily schedule."

He chuckled too and then shook his head.

I took my leave to my desk but halfway there, Soonyoung suddenly remembered one last thing.

"OH!" He exclaimed and I turned on a dime to face him, "Can you go check up on Alissa Kim and her recovery? And maybe bring her some flowers?"

"We can do it together, later." I reminded him, "You don't have any meetings after 3 and I'm sure she'd love to talk to you in person and not just your secretary."

His mouth dropped open in a small 'o.' "Good idea." He gave me a thumbs up and I walked back to my desk.

"Order flowers." I wrote on a notepad as a reminder.

After some minutes of silence, Soonyoung moved out of his chair.

"Aren't you coming with?" He asked when I didn't move from mine.

I shook my head, "Not this time, unfortunately. Seungkwan asked me for some help on a few things."

Soonyoung's shoulders sagged ever so slightly I'm surprised I even caught it.

"And the rehearsals?" He continued, ignoring the remaining time before his meeting which ticks away.

"I will try but I can't stay for the entirety of it." I answered, "Your job may be chunked off, Soonyoung, but mine never slows."

"Well, remind me to change your job description then." He commented.

"You don't have to, I actually enjoy it a lot." I told him before noticing the time, "Now go before you're late for the second time this morning." I shooed him out of the office as he chuckled.

Once the office door was firmly shut behind him, I took my seat again and let out a breath.

Why would he all of a sudden want to have dinner with me? And the disappointment when he heard I wouldn't be joining the finance meeting. Did I imagine seeing the disappointment? He couldn't have been that disappointed when I said I wouldn't be going, could he? And what last minute appointment could he have had without telling me? Maybe he didn't have time to tell me? No, he always tells me about his schedule if it effects his schedule here. So where was he?

During the past two months, I have done well at keeping my personal feelings out of the workplace but just watching him work and the way he treats his employees makes the feelings continue to grow.

"I've got to stop reading into things." I mumbled to myself before shaking out my shoulders and looking at the new emails that have popped up.

"Reading into what?" Seungkwan's voice appeared in the office making me jump and scream in fear.

I spun around to see him standing half in the door with an apologetic look on his face.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He apologized quickly.

Holding a hand over my heart, I shook my head. "I'm fine. You just snuck up on me."

"You scare easily, don't you?" He observed and made his way to my desk.

"Very." I told me then looked at him in warning, "But don't you ever tell Soonyoung that. He'll take advantage of it and one day you may end up visiting me in the hospital."

Seungkwan let out a loud laugh, "Soonyoung wouldn't do that. Not to you. He cares too much." He said, casually.

I paused for a split second, wondering what he meant by his last statement. 'He cares too much.' About who??

"So can you help with the project?" He continued on as if nothing was wrong with what he had just said.

"Uh, yeah." I watched as he grabbed one of the chairs near Soonyoung's desk and dragged it all the way over to my desk. "I think I can mess with the schedule enough to make it happen."

"Are you sure it's going to be okay for me to take that many days off? I've never done it before." Seungkwan worried.

I nodded, "Yes, it's going to be okay. Your sister's wedding is absolutely a reason to take a week off. Plus like you've said before, I'm here now."

Seungkwan gave me a warm smile and wrapped me in a hug, "You're the best."

...

"I have a reservation under (y/n)." I told the hostess when we reached her station.

The restaurant rumbled with the conversations and clanking of silverware but wasn't extremely busy. I was thankful for that considering I was walking around with the CEO of Starlight Entertainment who I also seemed to have a growing crush on. Liking for? Whatever the appropriate term is.

"Right this way, please." The hostess smiled, picked up two menus, and started walking into the restaurant.

As we passed the kitchen, the warm scents of sharp spices and nutty sauces filled my nose and sent my stomach into a spiraling realization of how hungry I actually was.

"Is right here okay?" The hostess asked, gesturing to the table tucked away in the corner.

"Perfect." I told her and she set the menus on the table before heading back to the front of the restaurant.

"I've never been here before." Soonyoung looked around while blindly placing his jacket on the back of his chair.

I took my seat and glanced around as well, "It's been a few months since I was here but it's one of my favorites." The restaurant has changed decors slightly to match the concurrent season but other than that, it was practically the same.

"If it's one of your favorites, what do you recommend?" Soonyoung sat and opened up his menu, scanning the options.

I opened mine, "Would it be cheesy if I said the whole menu?" I glanced at him a playful smile on my lips.

He tried, and failed, to hold back a laugh and nodded, "Very cheesy. But I'm not complaining."

"Then, the pastas are really good and the steak is also excellent." I offered, ignoring the last part.

"What are you gonna get?" He asked, continuing on the path I'd chosen.

"I think," I paused and scanned the pages, "I think I'm going to get the shrimp pasta. It's got lots of veggies." I smiled happily. "What about you?"

"The braised chicken looks good." Soonyoung leaned back, arms outstretched, like an old man reading his morning newspaper.

"Evening." Our waiter walked up to the table with two glasses of water and set them down in front of us. "My name's Bomin and I'll be your server tonight. Are you ready to order?"

I nodded, "I'll get the veggie and shrimp pasta, please."

"And I'll have the braised chicken." Soonyoung added.

"What would you like as a side?" Bomin questioned, "We have a side salad, mashed potatoes, grilled green beans, or steamed vegetables."

"A salad would be great." Soonyoung smiled, brightly.

"And anything else to drink besides water?" Bomin asked the both of us.

"What kinds of wine do you have?" Soonyoung wondered.

"Oh, I apologize for not having that menu ready for you, Mr. Kwon." Bomin bowed apologetically and pulled out a folded sheet from his apron, "Here are our wines for the season."

I glanced at Soonyoung with a "are you serious?" expression but he was too busy reading the wine menu to notice.

After a couple seconds, he frowned. "Who am I kidding? I'm not a wine connoisseur." Then he leaned forward slightly. "Would you pick one for us?"

Bomin nodded, "Two glasses?"

I put a hand on Soonyoung's arm for a moment to stop him, "Actually, I won't be drinking tonight."

"Why not?" Soonyoung questioned.

"It's a week day and I have to go back to the office later to finish up some things." I informed him.

"Just one glass, then." He said and Bomin nodded before walking away with our menus. "But we drink on Thursdays?" He wondered, turning towards me.

"We do. But it's usually when we're completely clocked out." I told him, "Which I am not currently."

"We have a driver so if you're worried about driving..." Soonyoung reminded me, trailing off.

I shook my head, "I gotta have a clear mind for work."

"Is the work too stressful?" He asked, suddenly very concerned.

My eyes widened at the fact that he would even think that, "Not at all!" I waved my hands in emphasis, "It's a personal choice. Alcohol hits me pretty easily."

Immediately the concern was wiped away and replaced with teasing. "So you're a lightweight. And to think I thought you could handle your alcohol seeing as we drink together weekly."

"And here I thought you'd never been here before yet our waiter seemed to know who you are." I raised my eyebrows at him, throwing his joke back at him.

He raised his hands in surrender, "You caught me." He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slightly, "My apologies if I have offended you. It was just fun to see you get excited about this place."

"No offense." I told him, "Just tell me next time."

"You got it." Soonyoung nodded curtly just as our waiter returned with our food and his wine.

...

"Can I ask you something?" I set down my fork, my stomach full to the brim with pasta, shrimp, and veggies.

Soonyoung rested his forearms on the edge of the table, fork and knife still in his hands, "Shoot."

"Why don't you correct them?" I questioned, a dull feeling a deja vu rising.

"Who?" He asked, popping another bite of chicken into his mouth.

"The articles that say you're mean, angry, and selfish." I clarified and watch as his chewing slowed down considerable.

"You could always correct them. There's nothing in any company policy or contract that says you can't." He swallowed and took another bite as if my options were obvious.

"I don't do it because I wouldn't ever do anything you didn't want me doing. And it's clear you don't want to fight the articles so I don't." I explained, "But I'm serious, Soonyoung. Why don't you? They're straight attacking you and your character."

After swallowing, he laid down his fork and knife before wiping his mouth with his napkin. "Because they're not entirely false. And at this point, it'd take too much money and time to correct the situation."

He lifted his wine glass to his lips and took a careful sip. 8 months ago, the stark contrast from the media portrayal of Kwon Soonyoung and the actual Kwon Soonyoung would've shocked me to my core. But now, it just made me worry about how that portrayal was effecting him.

"Plus this way," He swirled the wine around in the glass and stared at it. "I get the best of the best trainees. The ones who know about my 'reputation' and who are still brave enough to join my company because they want this career more than anything in the world."

"I don't think any of what the articles say is true, you know." I said going back to a previous statement of his.

He smiled sadly, still staring at his glass. "Then you don't know me."

"Soonyoung." I turned my body more towards him, "I have worked with you for eight months. I have seen you every working day from literally dawn to dusk sometimes. And none of those articles are true. You aren't mean or angry, you're confident and really good at your job. Sometimes a little too stubborn but that stubbornness has gotten you where you are. And you are nowhere near selfish. You are honestly the most selfLESS man I have ever met. I don't know of any other CEO who personally checks on his trainees on a weekly basis. And not just to check their progress but also their mental and physical health."

Soonyoung chuckled but the sad undertone still lingered. "You don't know what I'm like from sunset to sunrise." He stated.

Before I could stop myself, my heart took the reins, "What if I wanted to?"

He looked at me, eyes searching for any signs of a joke being played. I stared back and hoped I didn't just make a complete fool of myself.

"You." Soonyoung finally spoke, "You want to know that side?"

I nodded, lips sealed together, too afraid I'd say the wrong the thing if I used my voice.

"Why?" He wondered.

I took a deep breath, "Why not?" I started, "I've come to enjoy your presence, your personality, and well, you. The way you had only known me for less than a day when you decided to cut off all business with Mr. Park because I was treated poorly at his company."

"That should've been done years ago." Soonyoung interjected.

"But I was the final push to end it." I continued. "And the way you care so intensely for all of your staff and trainees. Worrying about their health to the point of almost panicking when one is hospitalized. Much like a father."

"Anyone would do that." He interrupted, seemingly not wanting to believe my words.

"No. Not just anyone would do that." I argued with him then continued, "You celebrate each of your artists' comebacks and debuts as if they've just won the biggest award of the year."

"None of those explain why you, (y/n), want to know why I say the rumors are not entirely false." Soonyoung shook his head.

"Because I like the man I've seen everyday at work. I admire his ability to ignore the articles and do what he does best: care for and support others." I stated. "I enjoy seeing the little knick knacks that no one else gets to see. The little jokes you throw that no one else understands. Right now, I have your days. Well, most of them. But I want the nights. I want to see who you are when the company ID is not on your immediate person. When your mind isn't focusing on everyone but yourself. I want that Soonyoung too. Not just the CEO version." I finished softly.

"And what if you don't like that Soonyoung?" He questioned, glancing away like if he saw me say the answer, he wouldn't be able to handle it.

"You mean, what if I find the articles to be true?" I rephrased his question and he simply nodded. "From what I've seen, you're not even half of what they claim you to be. Even if you are a little selfish, mean, or angry outside of the company, anyone would understand. Your life's in the spotlight. Your marriages and subsequent divorces were messy and publicized. Anyone would be angry about that. No one wants a messy life. And who knows, maybe you'll be the one who doesn't like non-secretary (y/n)." I shrugged, reality sitting smugly on my shoulder.

"That'd be impossible." Soonyoung whipped around and countered.

"How do you know?" I questioned, "I could be carrying the weight of four divorces and am just hiding it." I joked.

Soonyoung's eyes widen in shock, "Do you?" He lowered his voice and leaned closer, a hint of belief could be heard.

I smiled and giggled, "No, if I went through four husbands in the span of my life so far, I would say I'm a very messed up person."

He let out sigh of relief then glanced at his watch. "Oh shit, it's already 9pm."

"Already?" I snatched my phone from my purse then cursed under my breath when the clock surely reads 9:06pm. "I gotta get back to the company."

Soonyoung only nodded as I stood up. "You go ahead, have Sam take you and then tell him he can go home."

"What about you?" I worried, hands resting on the back of my chair.

He raised his half full wine glass, "I think I'll finish this wine and then take a taxi home."

I shifted from one foot to the other, uneasy about his plan.

"It'll be fine, I've done it before." Soonyoung said when he noticed my nervousness. "Just go and get your work done and then go home and rest."

"Okay." I caved to his plan and turned to leave.

As I thanked the hostess, the realization that I basically confessed to Soonyoung and he didn't give a full answer hits, crushing my soul like a ton of bricks. Sam was waiting outside and opened the car door for me when I exited the building.

"Is Mr. Kwon having a wine night again?" He wondered when he took in my solo appearance.

It took a second to register that he was talking to me. But my voice didn't want to work so I just simply nodded and dipped into the car.

Sam closed the door, quickly moved to the driver's seat, and began the drive to the company. Leaning my head against the window, I couldn't help but replay parts of the night's events. From the aloof conversations during the meal to the sombre atmosphere at the end. The sadness in his eyes projecting his belief in the rumors about him burned into my mind.

'Because it's not entirely false.' Soonyoung's voice echoed in my mind. 'None of those explain why you, (y/n), want to know why I say the rumors are not entirely false.'

"Ms. (y/l/n)?" Sam spoke from the front of the car, breaking me out of my thoughts. "We've arrived."

I looked out the window and sure enough, we were parked in front of the company building.

"Thank you, Sam." I said and then exited the car.

Scanning my ID, I waited for the loud clicks of the doors. As I walked through the lobby, I heard some chatter near the cafe. Walking over, I caught two male and two female trainees snacking on chips and junk food.

"What are you doing?" I asked, making them freeze.

"We were hungry." One of the male trainees lowers his gaze in shame.

"We didn't have enough cash for any meals." A female trainee added on.

"What do you think Mr. Kwon would say?" I said, crossing my arms.

The younger male trainee took in a breath, "He wouldn't be very happy at us for eating."

I smiled sadly. It was obvious that this trainee was new and had read the articles. "You're right. He wouldn't be very happy but not because you're eating. He'd be unhappy because you're eating junk food and not proper food." I looked towards the older trainees, "You know you could've asked for a meal and the company would've paid for it."

"We couldn't find anyone here this late." The second female trainee said.

"What about your managers?" I questioned, eyebrows scrunching in concern.

"Ours went home for the night." The older male trainee said.

"And ours is already really stressed about Alissa so we didn't want to stress him out even more." The second female trainee explained.

"How many of you are here in the practice rooms right now?" I asked, realizing that their hushed tones must've meant they were trying to hide from everyone in the building.

"A few more of us." The first female trainee stated, "They said they weren't hungry so we came out because Tae was on the verge of fainting." She gestured towards the younger male.

I sighed and pulled out my wallet. Sliding out the company card, I handed it to the first female trainee, "There's a sandwich shop down the street that's always open until 11. Go buy enough sandwiches and water for everyone who's in that practice room."

The trainee took the card into her hands with care, as if a sudden movement would break the card in two.

"And when you get back with the food, you can bring the card up to my office to return it." I finished, "And don't do this again."

"You won't tell Mr. Kwon, will you?" The older male trainee asked, worry in his voice.

I smiled and shook my head, "I won't if you leave right now."

With that, all four of them stood up, bowed, and quickly left the building, talking excitedly about what kinds of sandwiches they were going to buy. I watched them until they disappeared from view then began throwing their trash in the garbage can. After their mess was cleaned up, I quickly shuffled to the elevators and didn't even have to wait for an elevator to arrive. Once I reached the tenth floor, I nearly jogged down the hall and into the office.

The draft's deadline was up at midnight and I hadn't even started to organize and make it presentable. Sitting down, I began to type, click, and drag paragraphs and diagrams around into the order I wanted them.

Halfway through my computer haze, a knock sounded from the office doors.

"Come in." I called, thinking it was the trainee returning my company card.

The door opened and closed and footsteps made their way towards my desk. Again, thinking it was the trainee, I didn't bother to look up or take in the fact that the footsteps were much heavier against the floor.

"What was a trainee doing with your company card?" Soonyoung's voice made my entire body freeze. He set the card down on my desk by my keyboard.

Squeezing my eyes shut in failure, I let out a breath. "I caught them eating junk food in the lobby and told them to use my card to buy them and their fellow trainees some sandwiches at the shop down the street."

I reached for the card but Soonyoung placed his hand over mine, effectively stopping me.

"And you weren't going to tell me?" He questioned.

I stayed silent and he took that as his answer.

"That would explain why she looked so nervous when I asked her what she was doing at the elevators." He chuckled. "Where were the managers?"

I looked up at him then. His cheeks were slightly tinged pink so he wasn't drunk but he wasn't completely sober either. His hair looked more messy than when I had left him over an hour ago like he'd run his hand through it one too many times. In his state, I wondered if I should tell him now or wait until the morning.

Soonyoung pouted, "Please? I promise I won't do anything about it until the morning." He held out his pinkie.

I gave him a lopsided grin and connected my pinkie with his. "It was a group of female and male trainees. The female trainees didn't want to bother their manager because their manager is with Alissa. And the male trainees said their manager simply went home for the night."

"He just left them here?" Soonyoung stood up straight, in disbelief. "Absolutely ridiculous." I took the opportunity to pull my previous trapped hand back towards me. The warmth of Soonyoung's hand still lingered on my skin.

I looked up in time to see Soonyoung march towards his desk, muttering something about firing or disciplinary action.

"Soonyoung," I called out to him, making him pause and look towards me. I raised an eyebrow, "You promised nothing until tomorrow morning."

He composed himself and pulled his shoulders back. "You're right. I promised." Then he made his way to small couch opposite his desk, and conveniently perpendicular to mine, and plopped himself down on it.

After eyeing him for a couple seconds, I decided he wasn't going to do anything rash.

"Let me finish this draft and then we can get you home." I told him, eyes already back on my computer monitors.

As I worked, I could feel his eyes staring at me from the couch. I brushed it off, needing to finish it by the deadline but after a while, it became impossible to ignore.

"Can I help you something, Soonyoung?" I asked, looking over at him.

Soonyoung lazily shook his head, "Nope, I'm just lookin' at you."

"Why? Do I have something on your face?" I wondered, hands flying to my cheeks.

He shook his head again, "Nope, you're just pretty."

I felt my heart speed up to 100 miles an hour and tried to hide it. "I think you had a little too much wine. And why did you come back here? I thought you were going home after you were finished at the restaurant?"

"I missed you." Soonyoung sank further in the couch, his head resting back.

We fell into a silence filled only by the clicks of my mouse and the clacks of my keyboard as I tried my best to refocus on the task at hand.

"Say something." Soonyoung whispered just as I saved and sent the document off. An hour before the deadline, but still the latest I had ever turned something in.

"What would you like me to say, Soonyoung?" I questioned, moving towards my email, looking for anything urgent before I took him home.

“Anything." He said softly.

I looked at him from my desk. His eyes trained on the ceiling and his shoulders sagging in exhaustion. I couldn't tell whether the exhaustion was physical or mental.

"Shouldn't it be me asking you to say something?" I countered, watching his face as he tries to decipher what I meant.

He stayed silent as I packed my bag, turned off my computer, and helped him to his feet. The entire way to my car he was silent. I had wanted to check on the trainees before I left but with Soonyoung at my side, that wasn't something I could've managed so I decided to do it the next day when I could sneak away. Knowing the way to his home, I drove us in a never ending silence through the dark night.

When we arrived at his house, he still hadn't said a word. Even as I guided him into his house, his lips stayed shut, voice mute.

"If you're not going to say anything, then I will." I finally spoke, stopping in my tracks. Soonyoung doesn't realize I stopped until he's a few steps ahead and turned around.

"I like you. I want to know every version of you that there is. And I want to make my own conclusions. Not rely on the ones from the articles." I launched into a small confession. "If you don't feel the same, just say so and I'll go back to being your secretary and only your secretary. You just have to say so."

I waited for an answer but he still stayed silent. As I turned to leave, he finally spoke.

"I've never had anyone who wanted to know." He said softly, taking small steps towards me. "Well, there have been a few but they all got scared by the articles before they could make their own conclusions. So I'd learned to just let people believe what they wanted. And then you showed up. From day one, you didn't treat me like the big intimidating boss like the others had. You treated me like a regular, stressed out CEO trying his best to run a successful company."

I looked down, trying to hide a smile at his near exact CEO image I saw.

"I'm grateful for that, you know. But I'm afraid that you'll walk away like everyone else." Soonyoung continued. "That you'll end up hating what you find and leave." By now he was standing right in from of me. Close enough that I saw his longing for me and the fear that rimmed his eyes.

"I can't promise that I won't leave." I almost whispered, "But I can promise I won't be scared off by the articles and make my own conclusion."

He leaned his forehead against mine, "That's enough for me." He mumbled before placing lips on mine.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, it was easy to melt into him and his kiss. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist and I could smell the last traces of wine against his familiar cologne.

We pulled apart but stayed wrapped in each other's arms.

"So I was never reading too much into things all these months?" I questioned, looking into his happy eyes.

"Probably not." Soonyoung smiled.

"Then if you'll give me this answer, when did this all start?" I wondered carefully.

Soonyoung looked off to the side in thought, "Probably a few months ago. I had asked you what 'our' schedule was in the elevator and you had totally missed the fact that I said 'our' and said it all in terms of 'your' schedule."

I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed back slightly. "I'm sorry, I don't remember this ever happening."

"You don't?" He asked, in surprise, "It was the morning when I bought you the apology coffee from the cafe in the lobby?"

"THAT day?" I repeated, "Why that day?"

Soonyoung shrugged, pulled away but grabbed my hand, leading me towards the back of the house. "I think it was the day when I knew you were fully committed to the job and to me. It was refreshing and wonderful to know that I had someone so close who was on my side all the time. At least during the business hours."

We reached the living room and he sat us down.

"And to think, I barely remember that day." I thought back to the day, "Except for the coffee and Alissa's hospitalization, that day is blurred with the rest."

He chuckled, "Doesn't matter much now though."

"I should get going." I said, standing back up, "It's late and you should also be getting some sleep, especially after the wine you consumed."

Soonyoung looked up at me, lips pouted, "Why don't you stay here for tonight?"

I smiled, "Two reasons: 1. I don't have a change of clothes with me and I don't particularly want to show up to work tomorrow in today's clothes. 2. Why would I stay the night at a guy's house when he hasn't even taken me out to dinner yet?"

He opened his mouth to retort but quickly realized I had valid points.

"I win." I stated happily, "I'll show myself out and you get some sleep, mister." I playfully scold him.

"And if I take you out to dinner?" He called out after me.

I laughed, "Then we'll see!"

"Free your schedule for Friday night." Soonyoung basically demanded, "And I mean it, no 'gotta go back to the company' excuses. I'm taking you out on Friday night."

I turned around and waved a hand above my head, "It's a date!"

As I walked away, I heard Soonyoung whisper a very excited 'yessss' to himself and it brought a smile to my face.

I took a deep breath once outside the front door. I didn't know what I would find on this journey but one thing was for sure: Soonyoung wouldn't stop caring for me or making me laugh.

#seventeen #seventeen imagine #hoshi #kwon hoshi #hoshi imagine #kwon hoshi imagine #soonyoung #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung imagine #kwon soonyoung imagine #seventeen hoshi imagine #seventeen soonyoung imagine

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wizardnuke · 4 years

Note

steve seeing tony take a hit in battle and asking how he’s holding up with a joking tone and FRIDAY just responds “Iron Man is operating at optimum capacity, Captain Rogers. Unfortunately I will be shutting off communication between the rest of the Avengers and Iron Man until the threat has been neutralized.” and steve is like “something is VERY wrong” but he can’t think too hard about it until the end of the battle and then FRIDAY just tells the team that tony fucking died two hours ago.

The battle had finally ended. It was a brutal one, and Steve made the decision to let SHIELD do the cleanup. His team had done enough, and they still had a debriefing to do before they could head home. They covered their mouths and noses from the dust as they picked through the rubble, heading wearily to the quinjet. Steve's ribs hurt- he'd taken a nasty fall at one point and had probably bruised, if not cracked them. Natasha was limping, but her jaw was set tight, and Steve knew that pointing it out wouldn't do anything but earn a glare from her. Clint had an arm around a barely conscious Bruce as they headed back, and even Thor seemed weary as he walked through the wreckage.

Tony was unusually silent as he flew slowly and steadily through the clouds of dust and smoke. He almost always said something after a battle, whether it was an adrenaline-fueled ramble or a tired quip, but there was nothing. Steve just hoped whatever injury he was hiding wasn't too severe.

Steve continued to keep an eye on his teammates (who he was the captain of, it was his job to keep them alive and he'd done well, obviously, everyone was still standing, but Clint was slouching and Thor's eyes were dull and Tony had to be hurt, he was so quiet, and Steve privately wished that the man would give himself a damn break) as they boarded the quinjet. Clint and Natasha took the controls, Bruce pulled a blanket over his bare shoulders, and Thor flopped gracelessly onto the seats. Tony pressed the close button for the ramp, then stood quietly by the back.

Steve pulled a handful of protein bars and water bottles out of the mini-fridge and began to hand them out. Everyone took one- they had to, Steve always looked so damn worried when they didn't, and they all agreed that he had enough to deal with. No one quite looked at him as they took theirs, aside from Thor, who accepted his with a faint smile.

Steve held the last one up to Tony with a rueful grin. "Hey, Shellhead, you're looking a little dead on your feet there."

Tony didn't move. Steve's smile slipped. How injured was he? Maybe he'd fallen asleep in there. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Hey, Tony?" He asked again, softly in hopes that the others wouldn't notice that something was wrong, but he heard several of them turn to look regardless. "Tony?"

Nothing. Nausea began to creep up his throat. Something was wrong. Not the normal type of wrong, Steve knew when Tony was hiding his pain, and this wasn't that. Something was wrong.

"FRIDAY, what's Tony's status? Why's he unresponsive?"

The suit's eyes flickered as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Captain Rogers, but Boss prevented me from informing you until you asked."

There was a beat.

"Inform you of what?" Clint asked, his words quiet but cracking through the silence nonetheless.

"Inform me of what, FRIDAY?" Steve choked out, and he knew, he knew what this was and his chest was squeezing tight and constricting his airflow but he was still better off than Tony, wasn't he, oh, God, Tony-

FRIDAY's voice was soft. "Boss installed what he called the Avalon Protocol in this particular suit, Captain. It was put in action two hours ago. He created it so that, in the instance of his death, the suit would still operate in active combat-"

And she was still talking, Steve knew, but blood was roaring through Steve's ears and sounds were suddenly all muddled together and he couldn't feel his hands and someone was making these awful choking sounds and FRIDAY turned the suit, facing the back so that she could run through landing checks, flipping buttons and pressing switches with the suit's hands and Tony's lifeless hands and the floor was tilting underneath Steve's feet and, and, and-

The back half of the Iron Man helmet had been sliced clean off. Half of Tony's skull had been taken with it.

#what the FUCK #um.#major character death #death #mcd #gore #tony writes #jessica #ask #horror #body horror

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secretshinigami · 4 years

Text

A First Time For Everything

Author: @complicatedmerary

For: @misora-massacre

Pairings/Characters: Halle Lidner/Naomi Misora; Naomi Misora, Halle Lidner, and I suppose Raye Penber is there, too, I guess :p

Rating/Warnings: General; brief alcohol mention

Prompt: Halle and Naomi go on a blind date

Author’s notes: Hello, hello! After writing Naomi on the other fic I gave you, I got inspired to continue writing her, especially with this intriguing prompt. I had my eyes set on a regular dinner date, but it was so boring, I had to think outside the box. How about the gentle appeal of a wlw romance of what-ifs and cherished memories? Now that is more like it! You deserve a good time after the stress of the BB fic, so, hopefully you will enjoy this! Also, the friends’ names? Totally intentional. :)

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“What do you think about sunsets, Naomi?”

“Hmm?” Naomi shook off her tiring trance. It had become the standard for Naomi to be absentminded every single time Raye wanted to have a party. In this case, he expressed desire to show off to the whole city that him, Raye Penber, had finally gotten brave enough to propose to his girlfriend, Naomi Misora. It was cute, really, Naomi thought, but a single text and some phone calls would have sufficed. She was not a big fan of crowds; he should know that already. Right?

“I said, what do you think about sunsets?” Raye embraced Naomi from the side and kissed her cheek.

She smiled. “I think they are nice, very romantic. With the right person, that is.” Especially on a nice balcony overlooking the city, as the crowd is engrossed in their own little world. Thin fingers wrap around hers, her thumb gently rubbing on the underside of her hand. Naomi looked intently at their hands and her heart skipped a beat as a rush of fluttering feelings vibrated in her stomach. Was that what they meant when they say you have “butterflies” inside you? She did not seem to mind at all, like she was used to the effect she caused because of her beauty and enthralling disposition. How many girls were they before her? Why did she care? It was not as if she was ever going to see her again. Perhaps she should give her number, make sure she never forgot about her.

“You seem deep in thought.” Her blonde hair was gently blown from the crisp breeze, it was almost too perfect.

“Hmm?” A distraction from her ramblings inside her head, but not quite. Naomi was more transfixed by her amber eyes than anything else. How can a woman be this beautiful?

Raye’s watch beeped loudly, the recreation of her memory evaporating like water. “Whoops, it’s almost time. You would not mind helping me with the drinks, would you? You are such a good mixer; our guests would appreciate it.”

He clearly meant his guests with maybe two of her friends. “Right, no problem.”

At this rate, a drink was not such a bad idea.

God, she needed a drink.

She could not believe she was looking forward to this. Cathy was so vague about this Hal guy, but what was said intrigued her. All she knew was that his name was Hal Bullook, he had blond hair, brown eyes, and he was at least over five feet and ten inches. Also, he was a CIA agent. A total dreamboat, Cathy promised. Hal has heard plenty about you, she also said. She gulped. Cathy had no filter; if she told him some embarrassing facts (like the milk slipping accident from work), then she would be mortified. Then again, maybe it will make her endearing and cute in his eyes, there was nothing wrong with that.

Today was a gathering between members of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Central Intelligence Agency, and other local governmental organizations; it was not for business, this was a regular party to get everyone together for a job well done. Plenty of fun to spread in one evening, it was bound to be unforgettable.

This was the most obnoxious party Naomi has ever been to and Raye had finally beaten his own record.

Maybe she was the one who did not understand how parties worked, but if this was an engagement party, then why was there a group of guys watching sports on her television, in her living room? And where were Cathy and Shoko? Did they miss their invitations, or did they ditch her for something else?

“Raye,” Naomi hissed, snatching him away from the group and setting him aside.

“Naomi, what was that all about? You can’t just barge in when someone is having a conversation.” Raye shook his head in disappointment.

“This is out of control! I thought the whole point of this party was to share the news. I was asked to bring snacks into the living room as if I was servant and not the main co-host. Do you realize how humiliating this is?”

“Oh, Naomi, I’m sorry, no one should treat you like this. Tell me who did it so I can tell them to leave.”

Naomi sighed. Raye could be dense sometimes, but gosh, he was too sweet. Was she making a big deal out of nothing? “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll get bored soon. By the way, have you heard from either Cathy or Shoko? You did invite them, right?”

“No, I have not heard from them, but they should be coming soon. Cathy is always late, remember?”

That was true, but that did not explain Shoko’s absence. Unless … “If they decided to arrive together, then that would explain everything.”

“Are you sure you are okay, Naomi?” Raye placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if my friends had other plans, but I promise we will make the announcement together. Just … give it some time until the mood has been set, okay?”

“Fine,” Naomi mumbled. “You did promise.”

“Thank you,” Raye pecked her lips. “Excuse me for one second.”

The doorbell rang and Naomi perked up. In an instant, both Raye and Naomi gathered by the door and let it swing open. The sight made her smile. Speak of the devil; Cathy and Shoko were just late after all.

“Wow, girl, look at you,” Cathy giggled. “You are an absolute knockout.”

And indeed, she was. Naomi was wearing a silky, black dress, her legs accentuated tastefully by the knee length and the six-inch black heels. Her long hair had been waved with a curling iron and her makeup was subtle yet elegant. Caramel lips and a brown smoky eyeshadow, she looked flawless.

“Hopefully, I did not overdo it,” Naomi shrugged.

“Nonsense, you look perfect, if you don’t make heads turn, then they are missing out.”

Naomi gave a small twirl. “I hope Hal likes me.”

“Yeah, Hal …” Cathy fiddled with her bracelet, looking to the side. “Come on, let’s go, we can’t be late.”

“You do realize you are late, right?” Naomi teased Cathy.

“Yeah, yeah, that was bad.” Cathy blushed. “But I have a good excuse this time. Traffic was a nightmare.”

“You say that every time.” Naomi drank from her glass.

“It’s true, though!” She widened her brown eyes to appear more innocent. “I know I have concealed the truth from you before, but I’m not lying right now. I have bad luck, that’s all.”

“Fine,” Naomi could not be bothered to continue this discussion. “I forgive you.”

“And that’s why you are a great friend, you are willing to look past my flaws.” Cathy giggled.

At approximately 4:30, Naomi and Cathy arrived at the gathering, prepared to have the greatest time possible. Naomi was transfixed by the amount of silver decorations the room had all over. It was as if there was plenty of money invested to make it look pretty. And from the corner of her eyes, she saw the type of food that was set on the table. It was a banquet full of delicacies that range from a fancy ham and an elaborated fruit salad.

At least she felt better about her dress code.

“Wow,” Cathy gasped.

“I know,” Naomi replied. However, there were more concerning issues. If she could find Hal, perhaps they could crack a joke about how this gathering’s budget was blown for appearances. Then again, there was the possibility that he could have a terrible sense of humor. She had to thread lightly. Now, where he could be among this sea of professionals? Funnily enough, she did not catch a lot of men that were at least taller than five feet and ten inches, so perhaps Hal was in the bathroom.

She stood there in her spot, darting around for a sign of a tall blond.

Well, she did see a tall blonde woman among the crowd, but that was definitely not Hal. Their eyes aligned and she waved at her, smiling. Naomi waved back. She must be a coworker she had never notice before, it would have looked bad if she ignored her.

However, where was he?

“What are you doing?” Cathy took her arm and dragged her in the middle of the room. “That is your date, come say hi to Halle. Hey, Halle, here she is!”

Halle? What was Cathy talking about? No, she must have been confused, Hal was somewhere around here, this had to be a joke—

Hold on a second.

This was a joke. Blonde hair, brown eyes, she seemed taller than five feet and ten inches, especially with those high heels …

Did she miss something? Did Cathy set her up with a woman all along?

“Who is Shoko’s friend?” Naomi pointed towards a young-looking man standing next to Shoko.

“Oh, that’s her new boyfriend,” Cathy shrugged. “I barely know him, he is new in town.”

“Huh,” That was all Naomi could say. Shoko’s dating habits were … unusual to say the least. That was not a negative thing, she reassured herself, Shoko was an attractive woman. With her sleek, dark brown hair, high cheekbones, and slender figure, she attracted men like honey. If Cathy can call herself unlucky, Shoko was the opposite. It was hypnotizing, really, how Shoko threw her head back with laughter and remain poised. Her boyfriend was cute and all, but he could not hold a candle to Shoko. He almost looked … average next to her.

“Wow, could you stare any harder?”

“Hmm?” Naomi was shaken from her train of thoughts.

Cathy raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms against her chest. “If I did not know any better, you still like girls. Does Shoko know that you have a crush on her?”

“Shh, Cathy, that’s enough,” Naomi set her aside. “No, I don’t have a crush on Shoko. Also, can you keep it down?”

“Wait, Raye does not know about you and Halle, does he?”

“Shh!” She raised a finger over her mouth. “No, and I would like to keep it that way. That part of my life is done for.”

“You literally stared at Shoko like you wanted to kiss her.”

“Cathy, can you drop this?” Naomi backed away. “I’m with Raye and that’s all there is to it—" When she turned around, she bumped into a guest and her glass spilled on her white blouse. The sound attracted lurking heads to witness the disaster, including Shoko’s.

“Naomi!” Raye came to the rescue with a paper towel. “Don’t worry, I can fix this.”

Humiliating tears sprung from her eyes, her shame hot against her cheeks. She waved Raye from her sight and ran towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Forget about the ruined blouse, why couldn’t Cathy mind her own business? Sure, it led to something wonderful once, but that was in the past.

Was it?

“Is she gorgeous or what?” Cathy smirked at Halle. “Naomi was looking forward to this day.”

Naomi wanted to cry from the humiliation. What did she do to deserve this?

“That makes the two of us,” Halle laughed, it sounded so warm and clear. “Thank you for helping me out, Cathy.”

“Could you excuse us for a minute?” Naomi flashed a pained smile as she set Cathy aside away from Halle, into the women’s bathroom.

“You lied to me!” Naomi whispered in anger.

“I’m sorry, okay? I met Halle in a case, and she told me that it was hard getting dates when you are a lesbian and one thing led to another and we started talking about you.”

“What. Did. You. Tell. Her?”

Cathy sighed in defeat. “That you were single and that you were totally a lesbian, too.”

“What?” Naomi was flabbergasted. “When have I ever given the impression that I was into women?”

“I mean,” Cathy waved her hands to Naomi’s sides as if her mere presence was the logical explanation. “You love to wear leather, I have never seen you in a skirt, and you ride the sturdiest motorcycle I have ever seen. Can you blame me?”

“What is wrong with you?” Naomi snapped. “I am appalled that you would do something like this. You made me believe I was meeting a guy named Hal … Oh, my God, Halle, Hal … You mispronounced the name on purpose because you knew deep down that I was never going to be okay with this.”

“I did this because I thought you knew that you were a lesbian all along and I was trying to keep it undercover for your sake!” And now Cathy was crying with tears rolling down her face. “You have to realize that I did not do this with bad intentions, I care about you, you are my best friend, I was trying to help.”

Naomi merely shook her head and sneered. “Don’t ever speak to me ever again.” And with that, she stormed from the bathroom.

“Wait, please!” Cathy collapsed on the marble floor and continued crying on her knees.

Crying was useless and a waste of time, she needed to get over herself. Naomi washed her face and wiped water with a towel, taking a deep breath to take some control back to her senses. She was going to pretend that the issue was the stained blouse and move on.

Fortunately for her, the focus was on that stupid sports game, and she was able to sneak to the bedroom and change her blouse into a regular long-sleeved, black turtleneck. She breathed out a sigh of relief. There, it was as if nothing happened.

She was not going to let this train wreck ruin her chance to have a good time, but she needed some time alone. The balcony was impressive, and it gave her the space necessary to come back to the party when she was ready. She looked ahead to the horizon and thought back to what Cathy said. Could there be some truth to her words? Sure, she did struggle getting dates with men, but surely that had nothing to do with her being into women, right? Her mind dwelled on Halle’s face and she groaned. Poor Halle, she was involved in this mess whether she liked it or not and she did not know to properly apologize to her. “I’m sorry my friend told you I was a lesbian?” Yes, that would go over well.

“If I didn’t know any better, it seems that I was not who you expected.” A familiar voice rang in Naomi’s ears.

She turned around and released a pained sigh. There she was, standing tall, unfazed that there was drama in the first place because of her. She was so put together; Naomi was almost jealous that Halle had better control of her emotions than she had.

Those CIA agents must be operating on a league like no other.

Naomi cleared her throat. “Oh, no, that’s the problem, you were described perfectly.” With an excluding factor, that is.

“Listen, I understand that blind dates can be weird, but I was willing to take a chance because it’s not every day that I get to know someone who is in the same line of work who is also into women.” Halle shrugged. “Does that make sense?”

Oh, how was she going to break it to her that she was probably not a lesbian? And yet, those words never exited from her mouth.

“It does make sense,” Naomi nodded her head, smiling. “I’m sorry about before, you are right, blind dates are weird. It could have been way worse.”

Halle chuckled. “What, like dating a serial killer?”

Naomi burst in laughter. “Oh, God, can you imagine? What are the chances of that happening in real life?”

“Believe it or not, it is way more common than you think. Thankfully, both of us are safe.”

She had to admit, Halle was funny. At least she could check off “sense of humor” off her list.

Huh. Hm.

“Just out of curiosity,” Naomi said breezily. “Did Cathy tell you anything interesting about me?”

“You mean like the ‘Milk Slipping Accident’? Yes, if that is true, you are hilarious.”

It was not surprising Cathy told her that story, she was expecting nothing less.

“It would be better if you heard my version of the story, I was the main instigator, after all.” She beckoned Halle to stand beside her. “Come on, I bet Cathy left off some important details.”

Whatever was going on inside did not matter when the woman in front of you also shared interesting stories of her own. One thing that Naomi learned from this fiasco was that perhaps the reason why dating men never worked out for her was because the spark was simply not there. With Halle, however, once the awkwardness went away, it just made sense. A part of her was still struggling with this newfound source of self-discovery, but once she allowed to just let herself be, it was comforting. She already admitted that she never dated another woman before today (which made Halle laugh, oddly enough), perhaps Halle would make this journey easier for her with no judgment.

“Sorry to interrupt you, but I’m just noticing that the sun is about to finally set.” Halle remarked.

“Do you like sunsets?”

“I think they can be romantic with the right person. Other than that, they are just nice.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Watched the sunset with someone else? Not romantically, no, but I always wanted to.”

“Well,” Naomi offered her hand. “There is always a first time for everything.”

Fast forwarding to the once evaporated memory from Naomi’s mind, after a tentative silence from both women, Naomi and Halle shared a kiss, the first of many that were set to come after Naomi insisted to at least see each other one more time. Unbeknownst to her, Cathy caught them in that embrace and never spoke one word to Naomi about it to avoid confrontation.

The following week, Halle organized a picnic date near a hill to enjoy the serenity of the lack of crowds. Naomi enjoyed herself on the mat despite the cold weather. She did not mind because she could just ask Halle to give her a jacket.

The less they talked about their eventual separation to get back to their normal, working lives, the better. If there was one thing Naomi learned from this experience is to just allow herself to be at peace with the present.

“Naomi?” Raye knocked on the door, the interruption of her thoughts never stopping her peace.

It seemed that Naomi was staring at the wall all this time. “Yes?”

He opened the door and sheepishly peered from the view. “I think it’s time.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“I kicked out the rowdy people out of here, we shouldn’t encounter any more disasters.”

Naomi chuckled, embracing Raye’s neck. “They should have been kicked out way earlier, but I forgive you.”

“Oh, you forgive me?” Raye mused out loud. “You are right, I should have listened to you all along.”

She gave him a firm kiss. “At least you are learning.”

A loud clink could be echoed across the living room, striking attention from every angle.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” Raye began. “I know my parties are bound to be entertaining, and for good reason, but we have an announcement to make, and after this, we can properly celebrate.”

Naomi raised her right hand, allowing the sparkle of the diamond ring to bling bright. “We are engaged!”

Shoko was the first to voice her excitement and soon everyone else follow with cheers and claps.

Raye squeezed her from the side and beamed with pride to finally give up this announcement. Naomi felt celebratory for a moment, but her smile faded slowly as her mind decided to ignore the noise until it turned into a blur. She somehow felt … empty.

“Look, Halle, the sun is setting,” Naomi pointed at the sky.

“Crap, we have to go back,” Halle began to stand up from the mat.

“Are you kidding? I have never seen a sunset from a hill, let’s not end the fun just yet.”

“Well, if that’s what you want, I suppose we can stay longer.” Halle went back to the mat and embraced Naomi from behind, allowing her to settle against her.

Even when the sun set into dusk, none of them were willing to leave each other’s arms.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #naomixhalle #Naomi Misora #halle lidner #Raye Penber #complicatedmerary #misora-massacre #Mello's Birthday Mayhem 2020

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serenasoutherlyns · 3 years

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Winding Me Up Ch. 2 - Crying

A/N: thank you all so much for the likes and follows! I hope I don't disappoint you all <3. Here's chapter 2 of this story. I initially did not intend for it to be so like, emotional of a series, but I can't help myself. I'm better at updating on ao3, but things will always make their way over here! I have this series fully outlined so it shouldn't take all too long to write. I happily take requests for most SVU ships (esp wlw)!

Casey is absolutely livid.

Thank fuck it’s Friday, because at least the week is over. Not that she has much to look forward to on the weekend. Paperwork, prep, the same set of tasks repeating in a way that feels completely endless, fruitless, especially after this week. She can handle losing normal cases, those where the defendant is really just the best suspect that they have but nobody can be certain. She can handle the more depressing wins, where the defendant has their reasons, like a father killing his daughter’s rapist. But the cases that hurt the most are the ones that feel like they could’ve been prevented. If only this one man had help, maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did; if only the little girl hadn’t been so trusting.

And her un-recovered reputation still proceeds her. It feels like around every corner is someone questioning her capabilities, despite the fact that she’s been hired back, despite the fact that her win percentage is still the highest in the department by far. She’s pretty sure Jack McCoy has secretly banned her from trying cases against Sophie Devere, thinking Casey has a weak spot for the attorney. He isn’t wrong, but the lack of trust still stings. Casey just doesn’t have many more tries left in the courtroom, she can’t pull her own tactics to throw cases and get a mistrial anymore without some serious disdain from her colleagues.

Yeah, that’s the other thing. Office gossip was going to kill her one of these days. Everyone seemed to think something about her. Casey lost her nerve, Casey’s out of steam, she must’ve slept with someone to get her job back, all she does now is make deals. Casey’s a damn good prosecutor, and she knows it, but sometimes, sometimes the doubt just sinks into her like vinegar, burning her throat.

So when her last jury of the day comes back not guilty on a case she really should’ve won, she shakes as she leaves the courtroom. When she overhears the defense attorney gossiping to one of her colleagues (her colleague for fuck’s sake) about how she’s “not the same as she used to be” on the walk back to her office, by the time she gets to her desk it’s like her body is choosing between hot tears and tearing the place apart. The first option wins out. She grabs her clean gym shirt and puts it against her eyes and nose, but she cries quietly. It’s childish, ridiculous, unprofessional, completely inappropriate, but she can’t stop herself from the breakdown. She’s an emotional person, but she usually keeps the weeping out of the office. Casey is usually able to brush off the comments, able to come up with a witty comeback even, but for some reason, this is the last straw. It’s like she’s finally broken the years old bottle of pain and rage, and everything that’s inside is spilling out onto the floor, a veritable self-pity fest.

When she hears a knock at her door, she’s of half a mind not to answer it, pretend that she has done the unthinkable and actually gone home after her last verdict. She leaves it for a second, but another knock comes, and a voice.

“Casey, it’s Alex. I know you didn’t go home.” Casey’s attention picks up at her friend’s voice. Friend, yeah, that’s probably the best word for their relationship. But she can’t get herself to stop crying.

“You know me too well, Alex,” Casey replies, her voice weak and slurred because her face is swollen. Hearing her own voice makes her start to cry again at how horrible she must sound, louder when she realizes that Alex could hear her cry.

“Is everything ok?” Alex asks, her tone alarmed. She’s never seen Casey get much more than glassy eyed, except when she’s working on a particularly hard case; and then the tears usually come slowly, not the way this sounds, strangled. Casey shows no sign of stopping nor getting up to let her in, so Alex asks again “Are you hurt, did something happen?”

“No, it’s, it’s nothing, look, I’m fine, don’t worry, just,” a particularly large hiccup breaks her sentence, “just a rough day, I’ll be fine.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself and not having much success.

“Uh-uh, no, you do not sound fine,” Alex says, her protective nature kicking in, “I’m coming in,” she says, but Casey replies with an emphatic “No! Don’t!” before Alex can even get her hand on the doorknob. Alex respects her friend’s boundaries, but she can’t let her just sit and cry by herself. “If you don’t let me in, I’m going to stand outside this door until you come out,” she settles on as a compromise.

“Alex, I told you I’m,” another sob, “fine.”

She feels bad about it, but Alex breaks into giggles of disbelief when she hears that. Alex Cabot doesn’t normally giggle, but Casey brings out this side of her every time they talk. Casey hears Alex laughing, and thinking it’s at her expense, responds, “don’t laugh at me, Cabot!”

Alex, still laughing says, “I’m not laughing at you.” She pauses. “Ok, I’m laughing at you. But only because you’re being really funny. Just, let me in Casey,” and as a last resort, she pulls out her subtle flirty voice, the one Casey hears about one morning a week now, and purrs, “Please?”

Casey can never resist it when Alex pulls the pleading growl on her, and begrudgingly opens the door, allowing Alex inside. “You’re incredible, you know that?” She says, tears still streaming down her face, as she picks up a tissue and blows her nose. “God, I must look terrible.”

“You sure do,” Alex says before she thinks about whether that’s what the redhead wants to hear, “What the hell happened?”

In lieu of replying, Casey pulls Alex into a crushingly tight hug, knocking her wind out. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and Casey rests her head on Alex’s shoulder, unable to make words happen.

—

She eventually calms down.

Alex holds her tightly, rubbing circles into her back. They end up on Casey’s couch, she’s not sure how, but by the time she stops crying, she’s all but koalaed in Alex’s lap, exhausted. The sun has gone down.

“Please tell me you locked the door,” Casey whispers, tensing, knowing how this would look if anybody walked in.

“Yeah, I did, darling. We’re ok.” Alex says quietly, still in soothing mode. Casey relaxes again in her arms, and Alex feels her stomach flutter. Not the time, Cabot, she thinks, because Casey has been pretty clear about wanting their relationship to stay platonic aside from the whole sex thing, she couldn’t allow herself to have feelings for her. “Do you,” she ventures, unsure of whether she’ll just upset her more, “wanna talk about what happened?”

Casey scoffs, says, still quiet, “not really, it’s stupid, I should be used to it by now.”

This confuses Alex. Casey’s tough, and Alex knows that, so anything that could rattle her like that couldn’t just be something to get used to. “Used to what?” She asks, genuinely.

“Just, the office chatter, stupid comments,” Casey replies, beginning to lose her composure again out of embarrassment, but too tired to escape Alex’s firm embrace, “I overheard Calloway talking to the defense attorney when I left court today, saying something about me,” she breathes deeply, “not being what I used to be.”

Alex pulls away from the hug a few inches to look at Casey’s face. Her shoulder is wet with her tears, but she doesn’t care. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ll kick him.” Alex Cabot threatening violence never fails to get a smile out of Casey, who is drying her face off with the gym shirt again. “Calloway is a raging asshole. I will kick him for you if you want.” Her emphatic tone is cheering Casey up. Alex finds Casey’s vulnerable smiles to be completely disarming, but keeps going because she wants more. “In fact, I’ll tell him how much of an asshole he is, then I’ll kick him, then I’ll report him to McCoy for being unprofessional and gossiping, then I’ll kick him again for good measure.” Casey swats her arm and looks away to hide the heat rising in her cheeks.

“I’m serious. I. Will. Kick. John Calloway for you.” Alex’s tone shifts from angry to playful as she finishes her sentence, gratified by Casey’s weak chuckles. “Plus, he’s wrong, completely wrong. You’re fucking incredible at your job, Casey, even if you’re more cautious than you used to be. And that’s just, practicality, I mean, seriously, who does Calloway even think he is—“

Casey cuts her off with a kiss on her cheek. “Sorry, I know I’m kind of gross,” Casey says, and Alex begins to protest, “But you’re just so cute when you’re mad. Especially when you’re not mad at me.” Alex takes her hands and plays with them, suddenly aware that Casey is pretty much straddling her, on her knees, in her office. She blushes at the thought.

“Hmm,” Alex hums thoughtfully, “Well don’t get too used to it. I’m sure you’ll find some way to get under my skin soon.” She pats Casey’s thigh, signaling that she needs to get up. “Come on, let’s get out of here and get something to drink. I’m sure those files can wait til Monday,” she says, pointing at the short pile of papers on Casey’s desk. They actually really shouldn’t, but Casey wasn’t in a state to argue.

“You’re inviting me out, Cabot, after I ugly cried in your lap for ten minutes? You really are an angel,” Casey says, her quick snarky self returning.

“You’re assuming I don’t have any ulterior motives, Novak.” Alex pauses, considers herself for a moment, “Not that I’m being nice to you because I want to have sex, I mean, I do, but that’s not why,” she rambles.

Casey cuts her off with a chaste kiss. “I think I like your motives,” she says, “But I’m starving, so we’re getting dinner first.”

Alex begins to get her things together, but Casey pulls her back into a hug by the wrists, saying quietly, "Alex, thank you."

"Of course."

#casey novak #alex cabot #alex x casey #calex #svu #svu fanfiction #svu imagines #calex fanfiction #winding me up #law and order #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic

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