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camslightstories · 3 years

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Tolerate it - Part 4

Notes: Here is the part everyone waited for. I have been receiving so much love from you guys, and I don't know how to thank you. You guys are completely utterly amazing, and I cant wait to give you guys more of this story. I think i can write part 5 in a day, idk, but I will try my best for you guys.

Thank you so much for your love, it means the world to me. I receive any type of feedback, comments or request, I posted a prompt list so you guys can have a little idea for your request but if it is your own then I have no problem writing it.

Thank you again for reading, I hope you like it.

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers.

24 hours before

The raindrops overwhelmed the streets of National City. The overwhelming sound of the rain falling was heard all around the city. The way the cold breeze moved the trees. The light of the posts illuminating the city during the cold and rainy night.

You were happily cleaning the decoration table, as you hummed to the melody that has been in your head the whole day. JJ, your boss came walking laughing when she saw your mood. “Why is my favorite pastry chef so happy may I ask”

“First of all, I'm your only chef, and well like you know I finally cracked it. The lemon pie cake recipe, Lena loves so much. It was a success boss I made four cakes and they are all gone, third I got Lena's favorite flowers and favorite pastry, fourth I don't know, I think that is it” You stopped cleaning before showing her the flowers you had gotten earlier that day, and then the other box with the cake while smiling widely.

The blonde looked at you before sighing, you had worked with her for 5 years now, and she had seen you in the past with Barry and now Lena. She cared about you in her own way, you were her principal chef and somehow you became her friend. The blonde said as she closed the register walking to get her things.“Never change, Danvers.”.

You nodded and kept cleaning and organizing your workspace. Lena never leaves your mind, you knew you had to talk to your sisters and your girlfriend soon because it had been two weeks since the school decided to fire you since they found a better fitting music teacher.

The fact that you worked your ass off in the school, so the children could have the best of you, wasn't enough for them, and it hurt you. What other things have you done, are doing, or will do that are not going to be enough?

Like the time you worked on a project for 6 months straight, not taking care of yourself, working in three jobs, going out of line to make sure the movie sample was perfect. Trying to achieve your dreams, only for the executive director to call you one morning to tell you, they had found some else, someone better.

It scared you to think about the fact that Lena may find someone else, you knew she deserved everything she wanted and needed it, she deserves someone who was smart, stable, powerful, someone strong who can give her anything, someone without trust or abandonment issues, someone perfect for her, and you had a long way to be that person for her.

But every time she had seen your insecurities, she had come and reassured you every single thing, she had made your insecurities go away. She had made you feel worthy and perfect for her. But your insecurities had always been a part of you and somehow Lena worked in every step of the way with you.

Your boos whistle pulling out of your thoughts, before making you look up as she threw the store keys for you to close before she concluded “You are way too deep kid”

You murmured as you looked at the raindrops. “How could I not? she is my everything”

The rain covered you completely as you rode your bicycle, the coat on your basket covering the pastries boxes and the flowers. The way your cold shirt cling to you, and your socks getting wetter every time you passed through a puddle. Your soaked hair taking over parts of your face, as you felt the cold breeze hit your face, your breathing became stronger when you started to feel the freezing temperature.

Before entering the lobby of the large building, you tried to get rid of the extra water from your clothing, but it seems impossible. Grabbing the things you entered and smiled when you felt the warm temperature. You watched the clock and noticed the time it was 8:35 PM, meaning it took you over 10minutes to get there.

Mr. Simmons, the doorkeeper of the penthouse chuckled at you, you were too stubborn to take a taxi or let Lena’s driver, Mr. Smith, to drive you even when it is dangerous outside, you had always preferred to ride your bike.

After Jeremiah, your dad died, and you felt your world crashing down, you didn't want help. You kept quiet about your feelings, trying to comfort your loved ones, every time you felt you need space to open up alone, you rode your bicycle to the beach and sat for hours thinking, and crying. After a time your bike was the only way you went to places alone, it was the way you remember it was okay to be alone and to be hurting as long as the ones you love are okay and happy.

“Ms. Danvers, good evening,” The man said as he called the elevator for you.

You rolled your eyes at your name, before speaking “Good evening Simmons, we have talked about this call me Y/N, we have known each other for 3 years”

The old man responded as he chuckled, maintaining the elevator open for you.“Yes miss-...Y/N, I hope you don't get sick”

You mention as you walked inside, giving him boxes with various types of cheesecakes smiling.“I hope so too, Simmons. Here this is for you ”

“Thank you Y/N, have a great night,” The man said waving at you.

You yelled when the door began to close, the old man nodded and smiled at you. “You are welcome! good night and say hi to your family for me”

Each floor of the building was elegant, classy, and minimalist. The soft LED lights on the top and bottom corners of the corridors, the way the blue and gray color made pop up the white vintage doors.

You took the key chain out of your pocket, putting the security code in, waiting for the green light meaning you could put the key card in. The keychain was simple, it had the keycard and a polaroid photo of you and Lena, the day you moved in. Lena was laughing at something and you were looking at her as if she had brought down the moon for you.

You entered with difficulty at the apartment trying to not let anything fall as you spoke before you stopped completely when you saw your girlfriend in one of the bar stools drinking wine.“Baby, I'm home! Sorry it took me a while but it was raining and I tried my best on the bicycle, nut that is not important, what is important in that I have something for you, you are not going to believe me when I tell you that after 3 years of dating you and knowing your favorite cake, I cracked the recipe- ”

You didn't even think about anything else, you immediately turned to her side, putting all of the things on the kitchen aisle, as you asked worriedly while checking her for any types of injuries.“Lee? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen? Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Do you want anything?-”

“I need to tell you something” Your girlfriend interrupted with a tone, you swear you have never heard from her. It was cold but at the same time vulnerable. She glances at the wine glass, not looking at you.

Pain and worries flashed through your eyes when you felt the sudden change of attitude. You felt the wall she had put between you guys when you entered the apartment, no greeting, kiss, or hug. It felt like you were nobody. That morning everything was perfect. Why is this happening now? Why the sudden change?.

You started to say before stopping, taking her in. She was not okay and she needs you now. It didn't matter if you would wake up tomorrow sick, what matter was that Lena was okay.“Lee do you mind if i- you know what that doesn't matter, you are first.”

You quickly went to one of the bar stools and sat down facing Lena. You went to grab her hands, and she quickly put them away from you. There was the moment you knew the hurt in your eyes could be seen by everyone.

You cleared your throat, shaking away the tears that were overwhelming your eyes before speaking, as carefully and softly as possible.“What's up? What did you want to tell me, Lena?”

“Kara told me she loves me” After a few seconds of silence, she took another sip of her glass before admitting.

Your stomach drops. Your throat was caught. You stopped breathing. You felt the world fall down on you. You saw how every piece of the future you had imagined left in the late nights. You knew what was going to happen, just because you studied film doesn't mean you can't solve a simple riddle. You knew the other shoe was going to drop.

You whispered incoherently, still not being able to think or speak “Ohh- i...I didn't- Ummm”

When Lena cleared her throat and her glance and yours connected waiting for an answer. You whispered softly not figuring out what to say “I didn't know”

The silence overwhelmed you. You felt your chest tighten. Your sense of cold and wet clothes in yourself became uncomfortable. The smell of the wine made you nauseous. The way you felt your mouth to go dry. Your eyes blinked away the tears, but the hurt in them couldn't go away. Your hands closing tingly almost cutting blood with your nails. You knew you had lost her, but did you lose her if you never really had her.

“Can you say something?” Lena said with anxiety in her voice, you could see her walls slowly coming down.

You pulled away from her glance, painfully looking around the apartment not wanting for her to see the pain in your eyes. As your eyes ranked around the apartment memories of the two of you came running through your head as you responded quietly, pained and hesitant of the answer ”Do you...?”

You went, you heard her sigh again, you knew everything was over. You closed your eyes hoping it was all a nightmare, that this wasn't happening, that Lena loved you, and that she wanted to be with you, not someone else, someone better.“Somehow, deep down I felt the same, and that came crashing down”

When the words finally fell out of her lips, all you felt was pain and emptiness. There wasn't anything else but it. You knew you had lost everything, your light, your heart, your world. Right there you had empathized with Kara’s feelings after leaving Krypton.

You kept your eyes closed, putting yourself together knowing that if you did or said the wrong thing, Kara and Lena would not be happy. And how selfish of you could be, to make two of your favorite people in the world to hurt. You wouldn't do that, to anyone less to your sister and the love of your life.

You knew Kara was better for her, Kara had a stable job, a great personality, a status that can be compared to Lena’s, She had superpowers, she is Supergirl, She was out of this world literally. For Rao’s sake how could she not want her instead of you, she was perfect.

You who was only a 24-year-old woman. You who studied film school but weren't good enough to get a job in your field. You who played soccer and basketball in high school but weren't good enough to make it to college. You who could barely survive in National City with two jobs. You who the school fired because you weren't a good enough music teacher. You who worked at a bakery as the pastry chef. You with trust and abandonment issues. You who had some much baggage because of your past relationships. You who were scared of the dark as a grown woman. You with self-esteem issues.You who were broken.

You wouldn't be good enough for anything and less Lena Luthor, the good Luthor, a genius, the CEO of one of the most important companies in the world. How could you ever be enough for her?

You took a deep breath before opening your eyes, to see the two eyes you felt more in love with every day staring at you, waiting for your reaction. Lena had thought she was subtle but you saw the fear in her eyes, as tears overwhelmed them. There was the border, you would never want Lena to cry, or Lena to be other than happy and okay.

You whispered as you slowly got up from the stool putting it back, taking her in, one last time. The weight of the world in your shoulders as you did. “Okay”

Your eyes examined her hair, as you remember how many times you had comfortably run your hand through her hair after a long day. You saw her nose and remembered how many times you had softly leaned in, sharing an Eskimo kiss. You looked at her eyebrows as you remembered every time she had raised them, when you did something childish funny, before laughing with you. Her cheeks made you remember every time you would make her laugh as the dimples came out. Her lips remained you of every kiss, every time she would ground you with only one breath when you were panicking.

“You know, you two deserve the whole universe, and I know Kara will give it to you, as you will do with her. I know she will give you everything I couldn't, and that she is the better option. I mean we are talking about Kara, she is perfect. What isn't it to love?”Lena was perfect for you, but you knew you had to let go, for her and Kara to be happy. You concluded before walking to the door not bothering to take any of your belongings.

Lena watched you as you walked away in silence, her glance burning in the back of your neck. It was a second before grabbing the doorknob, with tears threatening to come out and a hitched breath you spoke with a sad smile.“You deserved all the happiness in the world, I will come for my things tomorrow morning, I wish you the very best Miss. Luthor”

The moment you closed the door, the world came down on you. Everything was gone. You didn't know what was going to happen to you, you knew you wouldn't go to Alex and any less Kara. You couldn't blame your sister, it was Lena you were talking about. She was perfect, she was the person you fell in love with after 3 months of dating. And you couldn't blame Lena for not wanting Kara. She was royalty, she was perfect, she was the sun, and you were not.

You just knew you had to be okay...for them.

#lena luthor x reader #lena luthor #kara danvers x reader #alex danvers x reader #baby danvers #supergirl imagine

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demxters · 4 years

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Falling

jj maybank x reader

request: Can you write a jj imagine based on falling by harry styles like he goes to your house and is telling you how he feels and there is flashbacks to what happened between the two of you with fluff at the end

word count: 3.0k

warnings: swearing

a/n: ok, so i got carried away with this one, but i couldn’t help it, i’m a sucker for jj maybank. anyways, this was my first song request and y’all are probably gonna hate me for saying i’ve never listened to any harry styles until this request but i loved the fine line album sm i listened to the whole album twice over while writing this.

(gif credit @rudypankows)

***

I'm in my bed

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands

Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

And I can't take it back

I can't unpack the baggage you left

JJ can’t sleep. He’s been laying in bed for hours, staring at the beige ceiling in his room illuminated by moonlight, the only sound he could hear being his dad’s snores and the light breeze of the Outer Banks. He couldn’t sleep because he can’t stop thinking about what you said that night. He turns on his side, gripping the sheets of his bed. He closes his eyes for a moment pretending that he’s with you, in your room where he should be. He imagines the sound of your laugh when he tells you yet another corny joke, your beautiful y/h/c hair splayed out on your pillow and your eyes crinkling in delight. But he knows he can’t face you now, not after what he said.

______

“Stop saying that! How can you say that when I’ve brought you nothing but hurt? You got caught in the middle of a fight because of me! Doesn’t that say enough?” JJ’s voice echoes through your empty house as you follow him through the front door. He has one hand in his hair, the other holding a half empty beer bottle. He moved from pacing in your room to pacing on the front porch. He takes another swig of his beer, shaking his head. “All of this, all of this is bullshit.”

“JJ,” you say softly, tears filling your eyes. You slowly continue walking towards him on the porch, afraid that any sudden movements would scare him away. “I meant everything I said back there. I love you. I love you so much that it physically hurts to even look at you sometimes. Do you think that seeing you battered and bruised doesn’t make me angry? That it doesn’t make me want to storm over to your house and confront him myself? Everything I do for you is because I care.” You pause to take a breath. “As for thinking you bring me nothing but hurt? I would go through it all if it meant being with you at the end of the day.”

JJ doesn’t say anything. He just looks away from you to hide the tears that are now threatening to spill down his face.

“Because you don’t deserve to go through this alone. No one deserves to go through what you’re going through alone. I love you too much to put you through any of that by yourself. So please, JJ, just let me in.” You’re fully crying now. The apples of your cheeks are sticky and damp from all the tears.

“I need to go,” is all he says walking down your front porch steps.

“JJ!” you exclaim, grabbing his wrist to stop him from going any further.

He turns to face you. “Let me go, Y/N. Let me go and don’t even try coming after me. I don’t need this,” he says gesturing between the both of you, “right now. I don’t need any of it.”

You watch him go through tears and a tear in your heart.

_______

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm fallin'

JJ sits up, turning to his bedside table. 11:28, his clock reads. JJ groans, just wanting the night to be over. He meant none of the stuff he said to you that night. He was just so afraid of how fast he was falling for you that he did the only thing he knew to do, he pushed you away. JJ wanted nothing more than to go to your house right now and take you in his arms, apologizing over and over for what he said. To kiss you with all he’s got and tell you that he loves you too. But there’s a voice in the back of his head telling him that you hate him. That you hate the person he’s become. And he believes it.

_____

You said you care, and you missed me too

And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you

And the coffee's out at the Beachwood Cafe

And it kills me 'cause I know we've ran out of things we can say

The day after your fight with JJ, you were hesitant to join the others at the Chateau, knowing that he was going to be there as well. His words hurt, but nothing hurt more than knowing that things between you two would never be the same again. If only you weren't such an idiot and kept your feelings to yourself then you wouldn’t even be in this position in the first place. Dreading the idea of seeing JJ again you called Kie telling her that you couldn’t make it today.

“What? Why not?” she asked.

“I’m just not feeling it, s’all,” you say softly into the phone.

“Is this about JJ? Because if this is about JJ, Y/N, then I swear to god-”

You called Kiara last night and told her about what happened between you and JJ knowing she was the only one who you could talk to about it. “Yes, this is about JJ, Kie. I can’t see him right now. It just hurts too much. As much as I miss him, I can’t. I can’t put myself through that right now.”

“Ok,” Kiara says, hearing the pain in your voice. “But please call me if you need anything at all ok? I’ll drop anything the boys decide to do today if you need me.”

“Thanks Kie, love you,” you say with a sniff, wanting to cry.

“Love you. And take care of yourself, ok?”

“Ok.” You hang up the phone and bury yourself back into your covers, just wanting to disappear. You wipe your face with your shirt catching a quick whiff of its scent only to realize that it’s his. It was one of the shirts he left at your house after staying the night. The smell of weed, sunscreen, and his musky cologne fill your nose and you can’t help but cry even more.

***

At around four in the afternoon, you decide to go to Heyward’s to buy some ice cream after finding out that your mom ate it all. You change out of your sweat pants and into some jean shorts, unconsciously leaving JJ’s shirt on.

You enter Heyward’s with a small smile of content. Heyward’s always felt like a place you could take refuge in since you spent so much time there working with Pope. Heading toward the ice cream aisle, you accidentally bump into a body causing them to drop what they were holding.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say, picking up the pack of beer cans that fell to the floor.

“Y/N?”

Oh, god. You knew that voice. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You look up to see him staring down at you with wide blue eyes.

You thrust the cans of beer back into his hand before ushering past him wanting to get out of there as fast as possible.

“Y/N! Wait!” JJ exclaims. “Can we just talk, please?”

You stop in your tracks. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you say, coldly. Not even turning your back to look at him you walk away.

JJ stands there, alone, wanting nothing but for you to come back. But he knows you won’t. He knows how stubborn you can be. It’s then that his worst fear comes true for he just lost the one person he cared about the most.

_______

And I get the feelin' that you'll never need me again

What am I now?

What if you're someone I just want around?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'

He looks over to his bedside table to see that barely any time has passed since he last checked, the clock only reading 11:35. He can’t stop thinking about the way you didn’t even move a muscle when he last saw you at Heyward’s. That the second you knew it was him you bumped into, you acted as if you guys had never been friends at all. And he can’t blame you, if he were being honest. He’d hate him too if he were in your position. But he couldn’t take any of that back now. It’s been two weeks since the last time JJ has seen you. You didn’t want to see him, you made that much clear. You’ve been avoiding him like the plague. JJ’s talked to Kie every once in a while about how you were doing. She told him that you were slowly getting back to your regular self, eating, getting out of the house, helping Pope with the groceries and hanging out at the Chateau every once in a while. It hurt to know that you were still seeing everyone, but what did he expect? He had his chance and he ruined it. The pain was just getting too much for him to handle. He wanted you back. He wanted to be back in your presence that made him feel safe, loved and cared for. He wanted to be resting his head on your lap while you ran your hand through his hair. He just wanted you.

JJ bolts up from his bed, puts on his shoes, and is out the door in record time. He doesn’t even think twice about where his feet were taking him, knowing the route to your house like the back of his hand.

______

JJ stands at your window for a moment, unsure of whether he should even bother to knock knowing you’ve been avoiding him for two weeks straight. No, he thinks to himself, He needs you now more than ever. So he pushes all his doubts and fears aside and raps the familiar tune that you two use to let the other know that they’re there.

You sit up in your bed, immediately recognizing the knocks on your window. After two weeks of avoiding him, you couldn’t believe he was here. You hesitate for a moment, thinking if you should continue your act of ignorance or if you should let him in. You choose the latter. You’ve just missed your blonde haired boy too much.

You pull off your covers and slide open your window. You then step out of the way so JJ has room to climb in.

He just stands there staring at you from the shock that you opened the window for him, but also to take his time to admire you for he hasn’t seen you in so long. Your hair was slightly mussed and you had your arms crossed over your chest. He didn’t think anyone could look so beautiful wearing faded pajamas with a scowl on their face.

“So are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna come in?” You ask, finally breaking the silence.

JJ makes his way into the room as gracefully as he can, though he knocks his foot on the window sill and face plants right onto the floor.

It takes everything in you to not laugh or crack a smile at the sight of him face down on your floor. You quickly move to shut the window and walk back to your bed, sitting on the edge. “What are you doing here, JJ?”

“I needed to see you,” he says, getting up off the floor. “Y/N, I made the biggest mistake of my life telling you I didn’t want this.” He makes his way over to you and sits next to you on the bed. JJ’s so close that you’re sitting knee to knee and you can smell the weed on his clothes.

“JJ, I completely get if you don’t feel the same way,” you whisper. “You just really hurt me with what you said. I mean I thought I scared you off so bad that you didn’t even want to be friends anymore,” you say with a scoff.

“Y/N, that’s the thing. I do feel the same way. God, looking at you physically hurts sometimes too. Because I look at you, and it’s like time stops. Like nothing else in this world even matters. I see you and only you.”

“JJ-” you try to say, but he only shushes you and grabs your hand in his. He leans forward, placing his forehead against yours and closes his eyes.

“Please, let me finish,” he opens his eyes to look into yours as if waiting for your confirmation.

You bite your lip and slightly nod your head.

JJ takes a deep breath before closing his eyes once more. “You are the only thing that matters in this life, the only thing that keeps me from losing my shit 90% of the time,” he lets out a light laugh before continuing. “And I know I have the Pogues but it just isn’t the same when I’m with you. It’s better. With you, I feel like I could do anything, beat anything that stands in my way. You make me want to become a better person because the guy that I am right now is shit.”

You squeeze his hand, trying to silently tell him that’s not true. That he’s everything you could ever want.

He squeezes your hand back. Thank you, the action conveys. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N. You deserve someone better than me. Someone who could provide you with a life better than this one. That’s why I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because how could someone like me ever be loved? My mom didn’t love me enough to stay and you already know about my dad, so why should you? So I pushed you away. I was afraid that if I let you love me I’d only lose you in the end, just like I lost everyone else.” JJ scoffs. “Some plan that was, huh? I ended up losing you anyway.” He opens his eyes to look at you and he’s a goner. The tears stream down his cheeks like a leaking faucet, no end in sight.

“Oh, JJ,” you whisper. Your heart breaks for the boy in front of you. You wanted nothing more than to love him more than anyone’s ever loved. To make him feel like he deserves to be loved, because in your eyes, how could anyone not love him? You pull him into your arms wrapping one arm around his back and using the other to press his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. He continues to sob into your shoulder making your shirt a little damp, but you don’t care. “JJ, you never lost me,” you softly say, rubbing your hand up and down his back while running your other hand through his hair. “I will always be right here.”

JJ pulls himself from your shoulder and takes your face in his hands. He wipes away the tears streaming down your face as you’ve begun to cry as well. He lets out a small laugh at how disoriented yet beautiful you looked in that moment. The tip of your nose was red from crying and he couldn’t help himself but to lean in and press a quick kiss to it.

“You missed,” you whisper.

“What?” JJ asks, looking back into your eyes.

“I said, you missed.” This time, you look from his lips to his gorgeous blue eyes before licking your own.

JJ gets the message and he slowly leans in. Your eyes flutter shut as his lips softly meet yours. He barely applies any pressure to them just slightly pressing into you. You parted your lips and he tilted his head, slightly giving you more access. The feeling of his warm, chapped lips against yours was like a drug as he pulled you against him, deepening the kiss. You ran one of your hands through his hair and rested the other on his jawline. He kept one of his hands on your face while the other moved down to the bare skin of your waist where your shirt rode up a little. His skin on yours sent a shock through your body as he started caressing the skin of your waist with his thumb. As he applies a little more pressure, you gasp at the cold sensation of his rings on your skin. The kiss was slow, yet desperate. Needy, but passionate. Needing air, he finally pulls away, lips red and swollen.

You open your eyes to already see him staring back at you. You rest your forehead against his and lean forward brushing the tip of his nose with yours. “Stay with me tonight?”

JJ smiles for the first time in a while. “Anything for you, my love.”

The two of you climb into your bed. JJ has his back against your chest and you have your arms wrapped around his torso. He holds your hands in front of him and plays with your fingers. You press your face against the back of his head, basking in his familiar scent and presence. You lightly press your lips to the back of his neck and whisper a small, “good night” into his ear.

JJ brings one of your hands to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it before holding it against his lips and whispering an “I love you.”

You let out a contented sigh as you reply, “I love you too. More than you could ever know.”

What if I'm down?

What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm fallin' again

I'm fallin'

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agntofhydra · 4 years

Text

Sawbones

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You're the Resistance's head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn't believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don't agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

SAWBONES

ONE // TANGIBLE

You’d never given much thought to it, too many other obligations and priorities took precedence over where exactly that small, red thread tied around your pinky led.

When you weren’t completely swamped, however, you’d like to see how far your eyes could follow the trail until it seemed to fade, yet still pulled taught by whomever was on the other end. You’d find yourself atop one of the many hills in D’Qar, wishing it was tangible, wishing you could actually pluck and feel the twang of the vibrations across the string. Maybe they could feel it too, wherever they were. They could be anywhere. The galaxy was infinite, and it was slim that people ever discovered their soulmate. Only one could see it, the other one blind until they had developed feelings for the other.

A mechanical whir knocked you out from inside your head. A meddroid was standing to your left, waiting for you to take the chart from its grasp.

“Sorry, FX-7,” you grabbed the stack of papers.

“Engineer Jasti almost blew their left upper appendage off due to a malfunction in the blaster cannon of the x-wing they were working on,” FX-7 informed you.

You blinked at the droid. Left arm, you thought. Just say left arm.

“Bed 5,” the droid finished, walking away.

Flipping through the pages, though you really didn’t have to because Jasti - along with several other engineers - frequented your medbay. You sighed as you pulled back the curtain.

“Again?”

Jasti shrugged. “Blame Dameron. He’s the one who puts these x-wings through hell.”

You rolled your eyes, checking over the bandaging FX-7 had applied. Satisfied, you gave Jasti a bacta-shot just for good measure. She yelped and you threw the needle in the bin.

“I’ve had words with General Organa. Is he scouting for First Order intel or is he just taking them out for the fun of it?”

A snort came from the bed behind you, and you threw back the curtain. Laying in the bed with an arm over his eyes was Yolo Ziff, a pilot in Blue Squadron. Confused, you flipped through the pages in your hand, wondering why you hadn’t seen his name come up.

“Snuck in here for a few seconds of peace, Doc,” he said, arm still over his eyes. “Dameron’s got us practicing escape maneuvers and barrel rolls until we run out of fuel. Even when I’m out of the seat I feel like I’m still piloting.”

You audibly scoffed, handing him a small vial of blue liquid to quell his motion sickness. He took it gratefully as you dimmed the light above his bed.

“The audacity this man has, to have his pilots coming to the med bay just to escape him.” you chewed the inside of your cheeks. “Doesn’t even check on them. I’ve never even met the guy.”

“I’ve seen him maybe twice,” Jasti interrupted your rambling. “When he’s not in an x-wing, he’s in someone’s room. I think it’s Galen, that sweet holographer this week.”

“That was the beginning of this week,” Ziff laughed. “She tried to soulmate trick him the other day. He got so pissed he took off into the hills with BB-8 and came back this morning.”

“Soulmate trick?” You asked.

“He can’t see the thread,” Ziff explained, arm now by his side and making eye contact with you. “Countless women have tried to convince him they can, and theirs leads to him. He doesn’t trust the concept anymore.”

“Can’t you see your thread, doc?” Jasti said quietly.

You looked down at your right pinky, following the thread as it cut through the wall, leading to Maker knows where. The small action was an answer in itself and Ziff let out a low whistle. You don’t know how it got out amongst the Resistance base, and right now you wish you could slingshot whoever it came from into Dathomir.

“I’ve never met someone who could,” he said, now sitting up. “Can you just see yours or everyone else’s too?”

Uncomfortable with the topic, you had busied yourself with organizing the vials and beakers in the medicine cabinet between the two beds.

“Just my own.”

Both Ziff and Jasti seemed to deflate - just a little.

“Do you know who yours is? Have you ever gotten close?” Jasti questioned. You locked the cabinet once you were finished and put both your hands in the pockets of your uniform.

“It sort of disappears after a couple hundred meters…” you shrugged. “I’ve tried to see how long it goes for, but I think I’d need to be in somewhat close proximity to figure it out.”

“How close do you think?”

“Same planet as least,” you reasoned. “Sometimes, I feel a vibration, a pluck from the string that makes me feel like whoever it is is near. I don’t investigate, though.”

“Why not?” both Jasti and Ziff said in unison.

“I’ve got my hands full with injured engineers and runaway pilots,” You replied, grabbing Ziff’s empty vial and tucking Jasti’s chart into the designated spot on the wall above her bed.

“Get some rest. Both of you.”

✗ ✗ ✗

Vice Admiral Holdo regarded you with a small smile. Even through the hologram, she put you at ease.

“I’m at about 35% of max occupancy,” you updated her, reading off your list you’d created only an hour ago with the help of FX-7. “Minor scrapes and injuries, nothing bacta and my steady hands can’t handle.” The corners of your mouth pulled upwards.

“Thank you for being our most consistent asset, Doctor. Your work is truly invaluable.”

“One thing, Vice Admiral,” you caught her before she signed off. “I have concerns about the quality of our x-wings and those piloting them. Do these constant missions hold any worth?” You almost winced at your bluntness. Of course, Organa, Ackbar and Holdo herself wouldn’t let Dameron and his squadron joy ride whenever they pleased. Yet, from what you’d heard of Poe Dameron, it seemed as though he could truly get away with whatever he wanted.

Her soft smile remained. “I’m glad you’ve brought this up,” she began. “We’ve recently come into some intelligence that calls for the creation of a true operation. I would like for you to be in attendance, inform the squadron of any risks and avoidances they should be attuned to.”

“I will, gladly. When?”

Upon your response, Leia Organa appeared over Holdo’s shoulder.

“Whenever you get here. I advise you to walk fast,” Leia said with a wicked smile.

Shaking your head, the hologram disappeared and you quickly buttoned your medical coat, making sure you didn’t have any mystery stains on yourself before beginning the trek through the underground hallway into the meeting room.

You could hear the murmur of voices amongst the team, and as you entered, you were met with a rather small gathering. A few faces you hadn’t recognized, along with a few pilots, and of course Admirals Ackbar, Organa and Holdo gathered around the central table. Although you had never actually laid your eyes on him, you knew the man who also occupied the table was the one who had been the talk around D’Qar for months.

Poe Dameron was truly as striking as he was described. His gaze was locked on the planet slowly spinning in the middle of the table until the whoosh of the doors slid open, announcing your entrance. His palms pressed to the table’s edge, he straightened when he saw you, dark eyes making your stomach churn. The room quieted as you took your place to the left of Holdo, across the table from Poe.

“You must be the Doctor,” he smiled. His teeth seemed to illuminate the room and you hesitated for a second. A small, split second.

“You’d be correct. And you are…” you trailed off, feigning ignorance. You knew that a man like Poe Dameron was never not known, and you thought he could be knocked down a peg or seven.

“Poe Dameron,” his hands folded behind his back. “Black Squadron Leader. We haven’t had the pleasure,” he lifted an eyebrow. “Yet.”

“No, we haven’t,” you responded, disregarding his innuendo. “I have, however, met several of your pilots. I wish the circumstances weren’t in the environment of my medbay.”

Poe furrowed his brow at that, and you stopped yourself from widening his eyes from the realization that he wasn’t aware of his pilots basically hiding from him by coming to her med bay, feigning illness or just needing a quiet place to rest. This either meant that Poe was completely oblivious to the fact that he was working his pilots too hard, or didn’t care and wasn’t too happy with the fact that they’d sought you out before or after flights.

Some leader, you quipped in your head.

“I’m glad you could join us on such short notice,” General Organa said with a knowing smile. You nodded politely and Ackbar increased the size of the holograms of information on the table so it was visible to the rest of the room.

“Our flight squadrons have recovered intel on a possible smuggling ship floating within the orbit of Kessel,” Leia nodded her head towards the planet, the cynosure of the table. “It’s been in our knowledge for a while, and we’d received no information that it didn’t simply belong to a spice smuggler.”

“Until now,” Poe chimed in. “It’s been stationary, in the orbit of Kessel for too long not to be something, our intel suggests it’s a storage unit or pit stop for the First Order.”

“How do we know it holds something valuable, of interest?” a technician asked.

“Red squadron and I flew by it last week. No need for there to be sleeping TIE fighters guarding it. I’m assuming the TIE fighters were manned, but off so they didn’t show up on our radars.”

The technician nodded.

“So, we aren’t gonna try our hand at the Kessel run?” one pilot muttered to another behind her and she pursed her lips, trying not to let out a chuckle. Especially in Leia’s presence. In all actuality, she’d probably laugh too.

“What’s your plan?” you asked, eyes locking with Poe’s. You fought to keep the air in your lungs.

“I take Red and Blue Squadron, and we find out what’s on that ship.”

That wasn’t enough for you. “You take your best pilots, blasters hot - and if it backfires? If you’re met with First Order reinforcements, a Star Destroyer?” Poe narrowed his eyes at you, but you weren’t going to stand across the table and let him flip a coin with lives. You continued.

“What if the ship is just spice?”

Poe clenches his jaw, rolling back his shoulders and you definitely don’t focus on the thick muscle peeking out from his unbuttoned flight suit, veins traveling up from his clavicle to his mandible. You wonder where he’s sensitive - the curve of his neck? His carotid? Maybe it was right under the curve of his mandible. Your mind berated you shortly after your thoughts dissipated for asking.

“If it’s not? If we uncover invaluable information that could give us the upper hand on those bastards?”

Carotid, you decide.

“It seems too hasty,” you defend. “No extraction plan, no real strategy. I’ve heard plenty about you, Dameron. I know you’re good, but are you so good that you can protect all your pilots if it goes sideways? Are you able to abandon the mission without finding out what the ship holds?”

It’s surprising that Ackbar, Organa and Holdo would let you two bicker this out. However, Holdo and Organa did ask for your presence and your insight, so they couldn’t really object to your extremely plausible concerns.

“Would you like to hop in a ship and come with? Oversee the operation yourself, Doctor?” Poe said slowly. The edge he gave to your title made your blood burn. Never had someone ever used your title as an insult, made it sound like a slur. It was something you sacrificed everything for. More than he could ever know.

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of overseeing an operation, Commander.” Two could definitely play this game. “But this isn’t an operation, this is you crossing your fingers and hoping your intel is reliable.”

“I’d have to agree,” Holdo nodded. Ackbar threw his hands up in exasperation.

“How are we supposed to gain anything by risking nothing?” He turned to you. Poe smirked at his words. You suppressed yourself from opening glaring at your superior and instead turned your direction back to Poe.

“You risk these lives, you’re in charge of contacting the families of the fallen. You deal with the fact that it was all your call, despite the glaring fact that you need more information.” You bit the inside of your cheek - hard. It didn’t matter how good Poe Dameron was. The information and operation was too risky, too murky and grey when, for everything at stake, it should be a little more clean cut.

“These pilots know what they’re risking every time they get in an x-wing. It’s why they joined. Do tell me Doctor, why exactly did you join?”

The tension in the air was so thick, you and Poe were mere centimeters from each other's throats. If he was close enough and you had a scalpel, you no doubt would slash at his. Leia minimized the holograms and cleared her throat.

“We need to find out what’s on that ship, but I have to agree that we do need more reliable intel. Do some more scouting, more recon, and we’ll reconvene when there’s more to go off of.” She then turned the table off and it seemed that the meeting was over. Poe still held your gaze, his eyes never leaving yours as you sighed.

“I can’t fix them out there,” you softened. “I can’t help. Understand that.”

“Then you picked the wrong role,” Poe responded, crossing the table and coming towards you. “If we lose that ship and it turns out to be valuable, all because you want more information, that’s your call.”

“As much as you may hate it, my judgement was asked for. I won’t apologize for having a conflicting opinion.”

You swear his gaze flickered somewhere below your eyes before darting back, too quick to realize where exactly he had looked. He swallowed.

“Neither will I. Pleasure to finally meet you,” he nodded curtly.

A sharp twang vibrated your smallest finger on your right hand, the thread tied there felt like it was physically being pulled forwards from its resting place at your side. Now, the thread felt tangible. You could feel the cut into your skin, the pressure from the pull. You looked down, following the thread not even a meter away to see it end in a perfect loop tied to the pinky of Poe.

He wrinkled his forehead as you looked up at him, face flushed pale and blood rushing and pumping so hard it was all you could hear. The room suddenly felt so loud and so small. It felt like you were trapped under Kaminoan waves, fighting for breath, fighting to surface but you were paralyzed. Poe voiced your name in concern and you barely registered it. Swallowing hard, your gaze flickered back down to his left hand that was now reaching up to grip your shoulder. You stepped back before he could make contact.

“I will see you around, Commander.”

And with that, you fled the room, all but sprinting to your medbay, your sanctuary, your haven. You emptied the contents of your stomach in the refresher.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #star wars #star wars sequel trilogy #pre-TFA #soulmate au #red thread soulmates #medic!reader #mine #poe dameron x you #slow burn #red thread of fate

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crystxlclear · 3 years

Text

sudden desire

chapter nine: how to run from the mess you’ve made!

part ten of sudden desire

synopsis: marcus meets the parents.

word count: you’re crying. this is long. this is so damn long. this is 12.2k words and you’re crying.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of periods, alcohol consumption, strong language, angst, the briefest and barely noticeable references to sexy times

author’s note: i have nothing to say except jesus christ it’s so long (also i got hit with that text block limit, so couldn’t even add a gif???? don’t think anything got deleted but i can’t be sure! hopefully we’re okay!) also not beta’d because it’s so long and i’m lazy

“My parents are in town and they want to meet you.”

She breaks it to him over coffee in the early morning. It’s become practice for him to wake before her - her apartment or his, any day, any time - and have a mug of coffee waiting for her whenever she drags herself from the bed, seemingly too sprightly for 7:30, to greet him. It’s become their ritual, over the weeks, stealing moments over sunrise and coffee. Quiet mornings where caffeine and the quiet hum of the city lull them away from the precipice of dreamy delirium. Coraline hides herself behind the familiar mug like he hasn’t seen every part of her soul stripped bare.

Judging by the look on Marcus’ face, it would have seemed as if Coraline had just told him one of them was dying. The colour has drained from his cheeks, pale, ghost-white and wide-eyed. He coughs, trying to play off his shock and utter bewilderment, and hide the way his jaw drops a little at the notion. “Erm... what?” His eyebrows raise in that almost playful, questioning way, like, reclining back on the sofa and trying to seem nonchalant about the entire situation, attempting to pull at some of his usually-cool demeanour to cover his worry.

He knows Coraline can read him far too well to fall for it.

“I said-” There’s a small smirk that curves the corner of her lips. She can’t help it. “-my parents are in town-” Coraline leans forward and places her half-drunk mug of coffee on the cluttered coffee table. “-and they want to meet you.”

“They want to meet me? Why not Loren? You’ve known her longer.”

“They’ve known Loren for years and she dated my brother. You, on the other hand, they’ve never met.” Coraline chuckles and cocks her head to the side. She raises an eyebrow at him when his expression remains dumbfounded; or shocked or bewildered. Whatever it is, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. It’s unusual seeing him like this, without his usual air of confidence and poise. “Besides, you’re my best friend, dumbass.”

“I am?” There’s a swell of pride in his expression, now; it flickers there for a moment, before the uncertainty creeps back in.

“Of course you are!” She tilts her head. Her hair falls over her shoulder, brushing against her collarbone and the skin of her shoulder where her sleep shirt has slipped down. “You already know that.”

He watches her for a moment. Warm eyes capture her gaze and she can’t tear herself away from him as he searches for something behind her eyes; she’s not sure what he’s looking for, and she’s not sure if she even offers up the answers. “Do they know about-” He motions between the two of them. He can’t find the right words to describe whatever it is between them. He’s not even sure there is a word to describe it. “-the agreement?”

“The baby stuff?” She questions, though she already knows what he means. Sometimes she has to remind herself, out loud, to assure herself that it’s not some kind of strange dream. “No, no. I don’t even know where to start with that.”

“What happens when you do get pregnant?”

“If I get pregnant-” she insists. She’s learnt not to get her hopes up; she’s part of a fickle industry, inevitable disappointment is familiar enough to her, now. “As far as they’re concerned, it was an accident. A very happy, not-entirely-accidental-or-unwelcome accident. That’s all they need to know.”

He exhales sharply and runs his hand over the stubble that covers his jaw. “And if they hate me?”

Coraline has to stifle a laugh against her coffee mug. Her lipstick leaves a half-moon of red against the ceramic. She’s sure she looks ridiculous; half dressed up, makeup done in only half an hour, in the dim morning light of her bedroom, hair still a tangled, pillow-tousled mess and in her pyjamas - or solely Marcus’ shirt and her underwear - from the night before. Still, when she’d entered the kitchen in search of caffeine, he’d looked at her like she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. Sometimes, he makes her believe that she is. “Are you scared?” She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. His expression is wavering and it just makes her grin even wider. “Like they could ever hate you.” She thinks that might be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said. Besides, she’s pretty sure her father would like anyone who made Coraline happy. And, God knows, Marcus makes her the happiest she’s ever been. “You’re pretty damn great, aren’t you?”

He hums out a laugh at her reply. “I try.”

“Look, if they don’t like you- but they will, I guarantee they will- then that’s their loss, and it won’t change my mind about how much I adore you.” She almost cringes at her choice of words; perhaps saying that you adored your best friend - your best friend who you were committed to having a child with, wasn’t the most articulate of choices. Adore was spared for lovers, which they definitely were not. “But, if you really don’t want to meet them, that’s fine. I’m not going to force you. But I just think that- maybe- it would be nice if they knew you before- well, y’know-”

“And you would introduce me as…?”

“Marcus, stop deflecting.” She prods him in the side and his face breaks out into a great beaming smile. “My best friend, hopeful future father of my child, Agent Marcus James Pike.” She clarifies, half-jokingly, with amusement in her voice.

“I’m not sure how well that would go over, Cora.”

She raises her eyebrows quickly then drops them with a resigned sigh. “Best to leave out the baby stuff for now, huh?”

Her father is her oldest friend. They’ve always been close, a true daddy’s girl since she was two-years-old. He was so damn supportive of her dreams, the one who believed in her all those years ago when it seemed like no one else did. He’s part of the industry; behind the scenes, more into the music that soundtracked her performances than being in front of the camera, and preferring to stick around in not-so-sunny Michigan than move his entire family to California, where the highest demand was. Rather than persuading her against acting, pushing her away from the fickle world that was Hollywood, he wanted her to succeed. He never gave her a leg up or helped, just watched in adoration as she carved her own path.

But this, this was one thing she wasn’t entirely sure he would support. Maybe, if they were lucky, they’d catch him in a good mood. Maybe they’d be able to bring him around to the idea.

She figured, however, that it was better just to call it all an accident and pretend that a pregnancy wasn’t meant to happen.

“Can you help me with the food? I can’t cook.”

“You can’t cook?”

Coraline hits him on the arm with the back of her hand, lightly, pouting at him as he chuckles at her half-hearted fake offence. “Shut up, Pike.” Her hand clasps over her heart. “Oh, I’m wounded, I’m wounded.”

He leans forward and drops a quick, fleeting kiss to her cheekbone. His plush lips barely brush gently over the bone yet it still sends coils of searing heat through her chest. A smile blooms across her lips like a flower unfurling its petals. “Sorry, Sunshine.” He grins again as he stands and maneuvers over towards the kitchen. “As much as I would love to watch your attempts at achieving culinary excellence, I’ve got to work all week,” he tells her as he drops his half-empty coffee mug into the sink. He checks the time on his watch - 8:35, just enough time to pull himself together and make it into work - and rolls down his pushed-up sleeves.

“Take the day off today. Call in sick or something.” She pouts, peeking out over the sofa as he fixes his tie and tugs on his suit jacket. “Help me shop and then prep things and cook and-”

Marcus stops dead as he moves to pull on his suit jacket. “They’re coming today?”

“Did I not mention that?” She squeaks.

“It slipped your mind, Sunshine.”

Coraline sighs and slides back into the thick sofa cushions, letting them swallow her whole. “They’ll be here at six.”

He leans against the wooden kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest, and smiles at her with that soft smile that inspires so much comfort within her. “I’ll be here at five.”

“You will?” Her face lights up and she practically leaps from the couch. In Marcus’ eyes, she radiates sunshine. “I’m so, so sorry about this, it was all so last minute because my dad’s been ill, and they were meant to go to Daniel’s instead, but he has to work late and-”

“It’s no problem, Cora.”

She pauses, measuring his expression. “That’s a lie, but I appreciate the support and optimism.”

“Well, there has to be one optimist in this relationship.”

Relationship. Only a friendship.

“Thank you, again,” she exhales tightly, watching as he scoops up his briefcase and keys. After the first month, they’d had the foresight to leave their stuff at each other’s houses; there are three of Marcus’ shirts hung at the edge of her closet and a couple of Coraline’s dresses tucked inside his; spare toothbrushes by the bathroom sink, deodorant on the dresser, shampoo by the shower. There’s no need for a mad, early-morning dash across town, now. Just relaxed mornings with coffee that slowly lure them awake. Marcus is dressed and ready to go, looking as handsome as ever as he checks he’s ready, before he steps out for the day.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, flashing her a dazzling, heartstopping smile. He drops a second fleeting and breathless kiss to her cheekbone before sweeping out of the front door.

Thank God for Marcus Pike.

...

He’s far more relaxed than he’d expected when he steps into Coraline’s apartment. His feet are aching and his back is rigid and tight with the weight of the day’s workload, but the comfort of her apartment is indescribable. The air in D.C. had been uncharacteristically hot; the city was thick with the cloying humidity of late-spring, the kind that sticks your clothes to your skin with an uncomfortable insistency. But Coraline’s apartment is a breath of fresh air; the AC is cranked up to ten and he sinks into comfort the moment he steps over the threshold. Perhaps it’s the low hum of music, whispering and slow and crackling gently as the vinyl spins in it’s customary circles, or the homely smell of the citrus and cotton candles she burns. Or, perhaps, it’s just her and the way she hums along to the crooning melody of Jeff Buckley. He wouldn’t mind returning home to this every day. The sight of her, living her life enraptured in bliss, carefree and happy, for the eyes of everyone else.

He knows this record is her favourite - a mismatch of songs that seem to have no reason to be on the same record, but somehow seem so utterly Coraline that he can’t help but think of her any time one graces the radio - but that she only plays it when she’s anxious. It’s one of her tells. And he wonders how long it’s taken for her to relax, how long it’s been since the tense set of her shoulders had finally relaxed and she’d melted into the mindless swaying of her body.

“Welcome home, honey,” her lilting voice calls over the music, in a mock sultry voice. It’s tipped with a carefree giggle and, though he can’t see his face, he knows she’s struggling to smother a wide smile. “Have a good day at work?” She asks without turning to look at him. She’s paying far more attention to what’s in front of her, meticulously chopping vegetables like doing it wrong would spell the end of the world.

“It was fine. Lot of paperwork.” Marcus shrugs off his suit jacket, rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and meanders through towards the kitchen where Coraline is. “What are we making?”

“Erm- well- chicken, I guess?” She can feel the weight of his amused gaze upon her face. “Don’t look at me like that. I bought chicken, I just don’t know what to make with it.”

“One of these days, I’m going to teach you how to cook. Save you from living on takeout and cold food.”

“At least I eat vegetables. Things could be a lot worse.”

He glances over at her, skeptical, as he takes over, surveying the groceries Coraline has lined up along the countertop. She’d bought stuff blindly at the store; stuff she knew Marcus liked, knew her parents liked, knew her nephews would actually eat, and had somehow ended up with two full bags of groceries, half of which she has no idea how to cook. The other half, she has no clue whether Marcus has any use for. Hindsight was a wonderful thing and she’d wished she’d called him at the office to ask what the hell she needed to buy at the store. It’s useful, she assumed, because at least she’s prepared. But there’s definitely such a thing as being over prepared, and it’s almost embarrassing to see the result of her panic buying.

“Cooking’s pretty easy,” he explains, cherry-picking ingredients from the far-too-neatly and meticulously stacked pile and examining them. “Just try not to burn anything.”

“Okay, okay, Gordon Ramsay. What are we eating for dinner?”

...

Coraline has no idea what he’s made. She knows what’s in it, but what they make, what they taste like together, she’s hopelessly clueless. She’d helped out as much as she could, chopping vegetables, tucking away the things he didn’t need, but he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. He’s always proclaimed he isn’t a cook - at least, he’s never claimed to be a bad one, or, at least, not as terrible as Coraline seems to be - and they always tend to settle on takeout and quick breakfasts, whenever they’re together, but the way he’d navigated things seems second nature to him. Still, whatever he’s made, it smells good - amazing, in fact - as it cooks slowly in the oven beside them.

Coraline sits atop the counter, legs swinging idly in front of her. She sips at her glass of merlot, restraining herself, wishing she could just down the damn thing and pour another, and another, and another. “Hmm, liquid courage,” she hums as she takes a sip of the crimson liquid. It’s more to herself than to Marcus, though he seems to hear and chuckle to himself, rolling his pushed-up shirt sleeves back down over his wrists and retying his tie that had been neatly folded over the back of a barstool since he came in.

She feels a little guilty for drinking, though she’d just finished her period, their efforts of trying for a baby seemingly unsuccessful. But the cramps in her stomach are still overwhelming and her eyelids still feel endlessly heavy. Wine seems to be the best - and the only - solution to her situation. Wine and ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream. “Want some?” She offers out the half-empty bottle for him when he notices her watching her, settling his tie against the hollow of his throat, neat and proper.

“I’m good for now.” He refuses, crossing his arms over his chest. His shirt pulls over his back and shoulders when he moves and the curve of his muscles are visible beneath the white cotton of his shirt. “I’d rather be sober when I meet your parents.”

He’d laughed earlier, laughed at him being so strung up over meeting them. That it wasn’t as if they were getting married, and they were his soon-to-be-in-laws. They weren’t the bearers of brutal bad news or the rulers of Coraline’s life, either. And he knows her well enough that she’s sure she’ll never forget him because her parents don’t like him. And that, if they don’t like him, it isn’t entirely the end of the world. At least, that’s what he’d told her. But it would be the end of the world, to him; she means the world to him, more than she even realises, and they would be the grandparents of their child, after all. They’d be important to them and to Coraline and, if they were anything like Marcus’ parents, they’d love that baby more than the air that they breathed, more than anything else in the world, and more than they ever thought possible. He’s an only child and the bearer of all that love and adoration they had to offer for so long. And he has no doubt that Coraline’s parents feel the same way about her.

“They’ll love you, Marcus,” she insists. Coraline sets her wineglass down beside her on the countertop and leans forward, hands braced either side of her thighs as she glares at him over the rim of her glasses. She wears them whenever she’s stressed; she rubs her eyes a lot - something about fidgeting and idle hands, an unconscious distraction - and contact lenses don’t tend to fare too well when the days drag on and the night arrives. She’s had sore eyes by 6pm far too many times. “You don’t have to worry about it. Just be the same brilliant man you always are and I’m sure you’ll all be best friends in no time.”

He snorts out a breathy laugh through his nose. “Maybe you’ll be bumped down to second place.”

“Hey!” She jabs a finger in his direction playfully and tilts her head, cocking an eyebrow as he smirks at her. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“No one could ever replace you, Sunshine.” His smirk melts into a fond smile, the kind that practically melts her whenever she sees the way his warm eyes revere her, as if she’s a long-thought-lost painting he’s laying eyes on for the first time. She’s quite fond of the way he makes her feel as if she actually means something in the world.

“They better not.” She fakes a pointed glare in his direction. “Good luck getting rid of me now.” She grins, beaming.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he insists, pushing off the counter opposite her to check the time on the oven. He settles back against the counter again, beside her this time. An embarrassing groan almost slips from her lips, involuntarily and likely painfully loud, when she smells his cologne. It blooms out in front of him when he moves, that gentle and familiar scent that she could recognise a mile away. It’s warm spice mixes with the soft scent of his shampoo and Coraline feels the last trickles of anxiety bleed from her as she takes it in. It relieves the terrible tension that holds stoic and unwavering in her shoulders.

“Used to play this song with my band.” He snaps her from her reverie with another revelation, the warmth of his voice only serving to help the winding down of the tension within her. At least with him here, things feel fine again. She’s sure that things will be fine. But she isn’t entirely sure her parents liked Scott too much - not right for her, too unenthusiastic and seemingly full of himself - but Marcus? Marcus is the opposite. There’s no reason why they won’t like him; he’s sweet and kind and considerate and wonderful, cares about her and everything that she does, cares about her happiness and sits to listen without complaint to all her problems and fears. He asks her how her day has been, unprompted. Her dad has only ever wanted that for her, even if this was only in the form of a friend, not in a lover.

“You did?” She raises an eyebrow. Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears plays quietly over the speakers. She doesn’t know what kind of music she’d expected Marcus to make in college, but somehow this isn’t it. When he’d told her about the short-lived tongue piercing and his self-proclaimed ‘punk’ phase, she’d pictured the Sex Pistols and the Ramones, not this soft pop rock that soundtracked her teenage years. It’s a sight she longs to see. now; she can’t imagine anything but sweet, gentlemanly Marcus and his suits, when the edgiest she’d seen him dress being a leather jacket and jeans on his days off.

Marcus has never been one to shy away from that part of his life - he jokes about it all more than she does, the edgy phase of college rebellion, those first years away from home - but she’s yet to see photographic evidence of such escapades. Every time she asks, pleads, eve, batting her eyelashes and smiling as sweetly as she can muster, his cheeks flush and he ducks his head, and brushes off her request with a joke or a second, more appealing suggestion. He has no reason to be embarrassed, though; he’s seen the worst of her, even her ‘goth’ phase in high school, which was really nothing more than her wearing black lipstick everyday for a couple of months. There’s a playful glint in her eyes as she reminds him of the lack of proof. “I’m still waiting on those videos, y’know.”

“I have to prepare before I show you them.”

“Oh, please. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’ve seen that old horror movie I was in,” she reminds him. The horror movie in question, which ended in her soaked in blood and limping around with an axe trailing behind her, was not the cinematic masterpiece the director hoped it would be. It’s a shame, really, because Coraline watches far too many horror films in her spare time, even the cheesy ones that it’s fun to poke fun at. She’d at least like to be in a good one.

She reaches down to pour herself a second, probably unwise and ill-thought-out glass of wine. Some nights, it only takes a couple of glasses before she’s tipsy and talking shit she can’t seem to control. Marcus sideeyes her, cocking an eyebrow in silent question, but he doesn’t seem to stop her. He doesn’t blame her, and he’ll steal away the wine the second he notices the tell-tale blush of intoxication that blooms across her cheeks.

“I’m not worried about being embarrassed,” he remarks, “I’m worried about you having your mind blown. Have to think of a way to lessen the blow.”

“Oh, is that so?” She chuckles, tipping her head back against the kitchen cupboard behind her head. “Well, I look forward to having my mind blown.” Her face lights up in realisation; her head snaps towards Marcus and she grins. “Can you still play?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He hums. “

“I’m not worried about being embarrassed. I’m worried about you having your mind blown. Have to think of a way to lessen the blow.”

“Is that so?” She chuckles, tipping her head back against the kitchen cupboard behind her head. “Well, I look forward to it.” Her face lights up in realisation; her head snaps towards Marcus and she grins. “Can you still play?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He hums.

There’s a moment of pleasant silence when the music fills the sweet air. The song lulls to a close and the next begins, slow and melodic and easy. It’s one of Coraline’s favourites - Songbird by Fleetwood Mac - and her eyes pull closed as she listens to the mellow chorus of the piano. It tangles with the silence, dancing between the quiet, empty moments. “I love this song.” She sighs, eyes slipping closed.

“Dance with me.”

Coraline snorts out a jolt of laughter. “What?”

“Dance with me, Sunshine,” he repeats.

“Why?” She giggles. Her eyes are still closed as she hums along quietly to the lyrics.

“Because-” She feels him push away from the counter and settle in front of her. One hand curves around her knee, his thumb brushing short, small circles to the inside. “-it’ll take your mind off things,” he insists.

Coraline cracks an eye open. He’s inches from her, brown eyes almost irresistible, so difficult to refuse when he looks at her like this. The candlelight flickers and turns his irises to pools of amber and gold. “I can’t dance.”

“I’ll teach you.” He states simply.

She searches his expression for an ulterior motive. Not that she expects there to be one; there never is with Marcus. He never expects anything back in return for favours or good deeds, is just content with his acts of kindness as long as they make someone smile. He holds his hand out for her in expectation.

She takes it.

“Fine. But only one song.”

His face lights up. Like sunshine. “That’s all I want.”

His hands are gentle when they curve around her waist. He holds her close so gently, fingers pressing soft into the plush flesh of her hips, feather-light. Her heart almost stops when she feels his breath against her neck and she can’t help the sharp inhale that rips through her chest. She hopes he doesn’t hear, but she doesn’t think she’ll be that lucky. Her arms slip around his neck; she wants to hold him close, impossibly close, until the cold that always seems to plague her and all of her fear floats away, until they simply don’t exist anymore.

“What do I do?” She whispers.

“You’ve never been slow dancing before?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I did at my wedding but-” She chews on her lip as she ducks her head. His hands hold her hips a little tighter. “-I don’t think his heart was really in it.

Marcus watches her until she finally lifts her head again. Deft fingers the brush the brunette stands of her hair back from her forehead, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. The intoxicating scent of his cologne consumes her again; it’s rich and brilliant and she really isn’t sure why today, of all days, it’s inspiring some kind of wonderful delirium inside her. She figures it’s the alcohol, already too much before her parents arrived, just like she’d feared.

“Well, that’s his loss, Sunshine. Everyone should slow dance at least once in their life.”

He starts to sway along to the music, steady, in time to the dreamlike rhythm of Fleetwood Mac. She tries her best to follow his movements but she still feels like, somehow, she’s doing it wrong. She’s never been a good dancer, even despite the ballet lessons her mom had signed her up for when she was young, but it turns out she’s even worse than she’d thought. She’s not sure how she’s possibly able to get something as simple as slow dancing wrong. Her feet just don’t work in time with the rest of her body.

“Like this?” Her voice is small, almost a squeak.

Marcus’ hand slides into the small of her back, gently pushing her hips closer into him. It’s easier like this, with him closer, to keep in time with his movements. “Just like that.” He whispers against her ear. “You’ve got it.”

She can feel her heart beating at a mile a minute. It’s hammering right behind her ribcage and she’s sure that Marcus is close enough to feel its rapid thumping against his own chest. Still, she melts into his embrace and their movements become second nature. It’s lovely and it’s comfortable and, he’s right, it does take her mind off of her anxious jitters. The sporadic flickers of the candlelight illuminate the contours of his face when she finally drags her eyes up from their feet - she’d been watching their measured movements so she doesn’t put a foot wrong - and they highlight the fondness in his expression.

“What?” She murmurs quietly, through the melodic silence. He doesn’t answer; his gaze maps out every curve of her face.

The intoxicating scent of his cologne consumes her; it’s rich and brilliant and she isn’t sure why today, of all days, it’s inspiring some kind of wonderful delirium inside her. She figures it’s the alcohol, already too much before her parents have even arrived, just like she’d feared. She fights against the fluttering of her own eyelids.

“I like this dress,” he whispers, running his fingers over the soft silk material of her summer dress. He holds the strap between his thumb and forefinger and smiles. She’s pretty sure that this is his veiled attempt at trying to distract them both away from their fixed stares. “Is it new?” The soft pad of his thumb brushes against her collarbone; she has half the mind to pull away, step back from where he’s pressed flush against her, but every single shred of rational thought leaves her whenever he gets close enough. Coraline has to keep reminding herself that this isn’t how you’re meant to feel about your best friend, and she can usually manage to push those thoughts aside and remind herself how he feels about her; that he sees her as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

She can only nod, words catching in her throat. It feels as if every inch of her body is closing in on itself, wrapping itself in thick tension that claws relentlessly from inside her chest. “Bought it last week.” She shakes her head clear the best that she can. Goddamn alcohol. Her throat is screaming out for water. Marcus continues running the thin strap of her dress though his fingers, digits unintentionally brushing against her skin. It’s entirely innocent, and he means nothing by it. She isn’t even sure he realises what he’s doing; his gaze is firmly set on her again, brown eyes almost transfixed by her bottle green stare.

Coraline swallows through the thick lump that labours her breathing. “I-”

She has to admit that she’s more than a little relieved when there’s an insistent knock on the door. Half an hour earlier than there’s meant to be.

Coraline takes advantage of the distraction and untagles herself from Marcus’ featherlight grip, right as the song ends and bleeds into the next, feeling utterly pathetic for the feeling that has poured over her. “Buckle up!” She tries to sound enthusiastic, clapping her hands together, but it almost certainly falls flat. Marcus watches her as she drifts towards the door, like she’s floating on air, despite the awkward shuffling of her feet against the hardwood floors. She turns to flash him a sunshine smile as she reaches for the doorknob - a smile that calms his endlessly restless soul - before she pulls open her front door with an exaggerated grin to let her parents in.

“Dad!” Her sweet voice rings out in joy at the sight of her father, looking surprisingly healthy now and, finally, back on his feet. She’s been calling him everyday, since he’d first been in hospital, months and months of phone calls just to check that he was still okay. She’s immeasurably relieved to see him okay, and smiling back at her.

“Corrie.” He returns her grin - their resemblance is startling when they smile, Marcus notes - and they’re hugging each other tightly. They haven’t seen each other in six months, her parents too busy to visit her and Daniel in D.C. Marcus knows it’s difficult for Coraline, given how close she is to her dad - and her mom, too - and how long she’d battled with herself all those years ago before she’d even moved to California. “Oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she insists as he releases her from his embrace, and she moves to greet her mom with an equally bright smile. “I missed you both, so much.”

The whole time Marcus is standing there, unsure what to do with his hands. He feels like a teenager again. With that near-debilitating awkwardness that came with meeting his first girlfriend’s parents all those years ago, it’s not too different, now. Sure, he’s much more confident than he was then and he’d grown into himself, much more practiced in meeting new people, talking to people. Hell, part of his job even included intimidating suspects, on occasion. But he feels as if he’d been reduced to the same love-sick, acne-ridden teen, sure that the girl he’d been dating for a week was the one for him.

(They’d broken up two weeks later).

“Marcus-” Her voice calling him - always like a song when she calls his name - lures him back to reality. “-this is my dad, Robert, and my mom, Celine. But- but you already know that.” She tells him so much about her childhood, high school, growing up, everything, that she’s sure it seems like he already knows them. He can tell she’s flustered and hiding it behind a vibrant smile. “-mom, dad, this is Marcus.”

“Marcus!” Robert grins at him and his resemblance to his daughter is even more apparent, beyond their smile; the same eyes, the same little creases at the corners when their faces light up, even down to the way their noses jut out a little at the ends, curving upwards, ever-so-slightly. “Glad to see Corrie hasn’t scared you away, yet.” He jibes lightheartedly.

“Hey!” Coraline calls out in protest as she hugs her mom, swaying side-to-side a little as they greet each other for the first time in months.

“My darling,” she coos as she holds Coraline close. “I missed you more than you know.”

“I missed you too, mom.”

Robert reaches out to shake Marcus’ hand, with a glint in his eyes at his playful jab at Coraline, and he gratefully accepts. “Glad you could come tonight, I know it was very last minute.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Sir,” he insists. He turns to Coraline’s mom as she approaches with an outstretched hand. She’s never been one for the ‘one-kiss-on-each-cheek’ kind of greeting with anyone but her kids. “Ma’am.” He nods her head a little in both of their directions. His Texan accent comes out far stronger than usual when he greets them. She wonders if it’s a nervous tick he has; she’s never seen him nervous before, he’s never had a reason to be nervous around her, not really.

“Call me Robert,” he insists.

Coraline watches on fondly as the three of them — Marcus, and her mother and father —melt into conversation. It comes so easy to him, conversation. He’s a natural with people. She doesn’t know why either of them were ever worried about their meeting; Marcus is great, as always, but sometimes her parents seem to come on a little too strong after a while (she knows Kimmy had been more than a little intimidated by them when she’d first met them).

They’re already laughing and joking, her father’s hand on his shoulder fondly, like they’ve known each other for longer than a couple of minutes. Maybe it seems like they have; Cora is always annoyingly aware of how much time she spends talking about each of them, especially Marcus, to the other that it wouldn’t be surprising if they could each fill a book with stories she’s recounted to them with delight and fondness.

“So, Corrie-“ Her father claps her hands together and it almost startles her. She’s been gazing at the three of them chatting for so long that it almost seems weird. She’s glad that it draws her out of it and back to reality. “-what delights are you serving us tonight?” Amusement glints in his eyes.

“Oh, I see how it is.” She quirks an eyebrow, tilts her head and grins. Her hair falls over her shoulder, a waterfall of waves that brush soft against the curve of her neck. “Tell me, dad, whenever will the wonders of 2001’s Christmas casserole grace our tables again?”

“She’s feisty tonight.” He chuckles, stepping forward to kiss his daughter on the head.

“Actually-” Coraline glances fondly over at Marcus. He and her mom are half in conversation, half watching Cora and her dad’s playful little jabs towards each other. “-Marcus cooked.”

“Oh, thank God. Celine, we don’t have to order in at the hotel tonight,” he calls back over her shoulder and his wife grins at him in amusement, then over at her daughter with such a palpable fondness that it practically radiates from her.

Coraline pokes her dad sharply in the arm with the tip of her nail. “Hey!” She protests, shuffling off into the kitchen, but she can never bring herself to be mad at him. And she can quip back just as easy. “Don’t be rude, we have guests.”

Marcus’ heart almost stops when she throws a bright smile over her shoulder, curls bouncing against her shoulders and down her back. It lights up the room in its sunshine glory. Though her smile mirrors that of her mother and father, there’s something about hers that reaches her eyes and is utterly brilliant.

He’s sure that it’s the favourite of all the smiles he’s ever seen.

Coraline reaches up to draw the plates from the cabinets. She knows that they have more than enough time to spare before the food is ready, but if she doesn’t keep her hands busy, she worries that she’ll end up panicking again. She’s only just shaken the worries, she’d hate for them to return and for her thoughts to carry on their racing, at a mile a minute.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Her father’s voice is low though it’s not like Marcus and her mom are listening; they’re laughing, the corners of his eyes wrinkled in that way that Coraline loves. She wouldn’t mind if either of them heard, though. She has nothing to hide.

“Better.” She sighs, a gentle blissful smile. She tries to stop herself from looking too manic, but she can feel a grin threatening to pull at her cheeks. “Much better, now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” There’s relief in his eyes. It’s soft and endearing, and it seems as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders when he sees her smile so dazzling, so genuine. His voice drops a little, almost to a whisper. “Marcus seems nice.”

“He’s great, isn’t he?” She sighs. “He’s really great.”

...

Daniel, Kimmy and the kids arrive right on time.

Not that they needed them there.

Marcus Pike is a natural. If even half of him was even the slightest bit nervous when he’d stepped into her apartment that evening, she can’t tell.

He’d eased his way into conversation with everyone around him, like he’d known them all for years. He’d answered all their questions without issue, made them laugh with his stories and laughed at their jokes, even those of her father’s that made Daniel and Coraline roll their eyes.

Cora’s apartment isn’t small, but it’s barely big enough to hold all of them, and chaos reigns as Elliot and Finley race around the apartment, tailed closely by their Grandfather. It’s great to see how close they are, close for two boys who see their grandparents over FaceTime more than they do in person. Celine keeps telling him to slow down as she sits with a sleeping and incredibly content Piper in her arms - he’s just got out of hospital, and his lungs weren’t exactly up to scratch before then - but even she can’t help but smile as the boys giggle gleefully when he grabs them and hauls them into his arms.

They’re all still smiling when they sit down to eat, the boys bouncing in their seats just being around their grandparents for the first time in months. Coraline thinks their delight sets Marcus at ease more than he already is; it dissolves any awkward tension, the kind that comes as custom with any first meeting, that may be lingering in the air, and it’s as if everyone around the table are family or old friends, not unfamiliar with the man sat next to her, and, If it weren’t for the worry stirring in the pit of her stomach, making her feel so sick that she feels like she might just throw up all over the floor of her dining room, she’d be smiling just as wide, too.

But every time her father sees Marcus smile at her or brush past her with the smallest of whispered and sincere apologies, and a large hand splayed gentle across her small of her back, she knows he’s just itching to ask her for every single little detail about their relationship; if they’re more than friends, if they’re together, if anything ever could come of their friendship beyond that. He means well and he just wants her to be happy. But she’s been warning him off asking with his eyes - even insisted in between one quiet moment when Marcus was using the bathroom that they were just that, very close friends and nothing more - but the notion of their agreement has been hanging heavy within her chest. It’s been weighing her down and anxiety has been churning wild inside her stomach. Even the wine isn’t helping; that age-old idiom of ‘liquid courage’ turning out to be a fallacy. If anything, it was only stirring the worry up into a veritable cyclone of terror.

Attention turns back to Coraline, eventually. They’ve drawn all they can from Marcus - what he does for work, where he lives and where he grew up - and Daniel and Kimmy - how the art gallery is going, how the kids are finding their new school (both far too distracted to answer for themselves), how they’re finding their new home now they have Piper - so that left Coraline and the extremely tender and previously untouched topic of her personal life. She knows there’s certain questions that they won’t ask out loud, at least, not with Marcus and the kids around, but she can feel the terrible urge to spill all her secrets growing stronger with each well-meaning but incredibly loaded question that they ask. She smiles through it, answers casually, but eventually the tether snaps and her words come tumbling out before she has a chance to stop them.

“We’re having a baby,” Coraline blurts out. “Me and Marcus,” she adds, like it isn’t obvious who she means. Her words are quick and jumbled but obvious enough that the room falls into a stunned, stifling silence. Everyone seems to drop their cutlery, a chorus of metal against porcelain, to stare at her. “Well- I mean- not yet, we’re- I’m not pregnant, yet- but, I-” She rambles. She’s well aware that her face is burning the brightest red, raspberry flushed across her cheekbones.

Marcus can tell that she’s been practically bursting at the seams since they’d sat down. She’d been shifting uncomfortably, feet bushing along the old rug beneath their feet, bumping haphazardly into his, and he could hear her hands brushing over the soft material of her dress awkwardly. She’s been smiling the entire time, laughing at every joke and embarrassing story her mom tells, though he can tell that smile was beginning to wear thin after a while. When attention turned to her and away from him and Daniel, Kimmy and the kids. The revelation had finally burst out but - despite the momentary look of relief that had flashed upon her expression - she looks even more tense at the reaction of her parents.

“You’re what?” Her father questions, eyebrows raising, words coming out in some sort of awkward splutter. His green eyes dart between the pair of them, sitting across from him, side-by-side and frozen like deers in headlights, Coraline can’t help but notice the way his smile had dropped, immediately, the moment the words had left her lips. His indecisive scowl was stark, in comparison to how he’d seemed before.

“I just-” Coraline takes in a sharp breath. The force of it almost hurts her lungs. “-we’re having a baby together and I don’t know when but we are and I just want you to love Marcus like I do because he’s my best friend and he actually wanted to do this for me- for us- and how often would you find someone who would agree to this kind of thing-”

“Cora, you’re rambling,” Daniel cuts in, voice soothing and low, willing to help her as she panics and panics and panics.

Marcus’ hand finds her underneath the table. She grasps his tight in both hands, tugging it into her lap and clinging to his digits for dear life. His thumb runs those slow, reassuring circles across her skin - the ones that are so gentle they’re but a tickle against the back of her hand - and she finds herself easing into his touch. “Breathe.” His voice is just as comforting as the circles he brushes into her skin.

Neither of her parents talk, just stare, stunned, and the entire table falls back into that awkward, thickened and suffocating silence. Elliot and Finley blink around at them all, confused and not entirely registering what Coraline had said, now what any of this meant. For two boys usually so rambunctious, loud and exuberant, their silence has come at the most uncomfortable of times. Daniel seems to be searching for the right words to say but nothing seems to come close to being the right thing to say in this situation.

She’s not sure what anyone can say in this situation.

She should have stuck to the whole ‘accidental pregnancy’ excuse, instead.

“It’s just-” Coraline looks over at Marcus for reassurance, though even his warm eyes don’t seem to offer much in the way of comfort. “I want a baby. I really want a baby. Even before the divorce,” she continues, “I just- I want to be a mom and I want a family of my own, so bad. So, me and Marcus are trying.”

“But you’re not together?” Robert Meyer’s finger draws an invisible string between the pair of them.

“I- no?” Her voice rises high and she sounds ridiculous. She knows that isn’t what he wants to hear. “He’s my best friend-” She clarifies, “-but we’re not together, not like that.”

Marcus has no clue what to say, every word dies heavy on his tongue and nothing seems right. Everything he can think to say would surely only serve to make this a thousand times worse than they already are. The exchange is happening so fast, too, that he wouldn’t even be able to get a word in, otherwise.

“Well, that sounds… lovely,” Celine proclaims and claps her hands together. Coraline is sure that she doesn’t mean to sound insincere, but it still comes out sounding that way. A little sarcastic, almost. If she didn’t know her mother, she would surely be offended, but at least she understands that it was never intended that way.

But Marcus doesn’t know her well enough to know that.

“And what do you think about this?” Robert’s questioning turns to Daniel. His eyebrows raise and he glowers at him expectantly.

He takes a deep breath, takes in a sharp breath through his nose and leans back in his seat. He manages a smile despite the tension that has settled thick throughout the room. Coraline’s hand tightens around Marcus’ - almost enough to be painful, but he doesn’t care, at this point - when Daniel smiles at his father. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“You do?”

Marcus hears Coraline sigh at the sound of her father’s incredulity. It’s a resigned sigh, one of those truly gut wrenching and downtrodden sighs that breaks his heart. “I should go,” Marcus leans into her to whisper. “I think I might be making things worse-”

“No, please,” Coraline insists, tugging her hand into her lap so that he can’t leave. He knows, maybe, he should, because her father probably hates him by now. But he’s not sure he could leave her. That, if he were to leave, he’d just end up coming straight back, staying by her side for as long as she needs, until she’s smiling again.

He loves to see her smile.

“She’s great with kids, why is it an issue?” Daniel questions.

“And she won’t be doing this alone, I’m in this for the long haul,” Marcus insists. He notices Celine smile at her out of the corner of his eye. Coraline’s hand squeezes his and her breathing levels out, just ever so slightly.

“I have thought about this, dad. I haven’t just rushed into it-”

“We should go.”

“No, dad, wait, please-“

“I’m not sitting around listening to you try and justify your ridiculous decisions, Cora,” he snaps and she flinches. She’s not sure she’s ever heard him angry before; she’s always been one of those stereotypical ‘daddy’s girls’, could never do anything wrong in her life in his eyes, but now he’s looking at her with so much disappointment and dismay that she just wants to curl up into herself and cry until she’s so exhausted she falls asleep. She hates it, she hates this.

Though she can’t bring herself to regret the decision she’s made with Marcus.

“I could talk to him.” Marcus proposes. It’s quiet in her ear so that only she can here, but no one else is paying attention; Robert is talking to Celine, trying to keep his voice level as she reprimands him for raising his voice in front of ‘a guest’, and Daniel is talking to Kimmy, though he can’t hear what they’re talking about. Coraline leans back into him a little, feeling comfortable with the weight of his shoulder pressed against hers, sturdy and steady and present, but shakes her head in refusal.

He doesn’t want to put his foot in it. He wants them to like him. He wants Coraline to like him.

“I-”

“Dad, come on,” Daniel insists, “Let’s talk about this.”

“Did you know about this? Before tonight?”

“Robert.”

“Yes, I knew. And I’ll support her. I don’t see what the big deal is-”

“Wow, it’s 8pm already?” He glances up at the clock that ticks monotonous and regular on the wall. He formulates his excuse to leave; Coraline can see it click, it’s obvious in his eyes. “Celine, we have to go,” Robert grumbles as he stands. “Thank you for the meal, Marcus. It was nice to meet you.” Her father may not sound overly sincere - his voice is stiff and his face is unreadable - but at least she knows that he’s polite enough not to take his frustrations out on Marcus. Cora knows, in his eyes, he’s done nothing wrong, and that Coraline is surely the only one he’s mad at because he cares about her and the decisions that she makes that might be terrible for her.

“Boys-” Kimmy turns to her sons. “-why don’t we go and watch some TV, huh?”

They both spring from their seats immediately, charging towards Coraline’s couch, so fast that it’s as if they’re running for their lives. She doesn’t think they were even paying attention to the conversation; when Coraline was younger, she’d never paid much attention to what her parents and family and their friends were saying around the dinner table, more interested in her brothers than their conversations. Finley and Elliot always seemed to be in their own little worlds, too, unless they had questions for someone. In which case, there was no way to get a word in without them shouting their enquiries over you. Thankfully for them all, they’d seemed more interested in whatever they’d been ferociously giggling about than Coraline and Marcus’ agreement, and their grandfather’s sudden and stoic disapproval. They’re probably too young to understand, anyway, beyond the notion of what a baby is.

“Come on, dad. Don’t be ridiculous,” Daniel speaks up.

“Dad, please.” Coraline stands to face her father but her hands shake and she shuffles uncomfortably. She’s not sure what to say or how to say it, or how the hell to make him stop hating her.

“I should probably be the one to leave.” Marcus pushes his chair back, gently, in resignation. “You can talk, then-”

“Oh, don’t leave on my behalf, Marcus.” Robert claps his hand on Marcus’ shoulder like he’s an old friend. “It’s getting late. It’s time for us to leave, anyway.” He turns and smiles at his wife. He holds out his hand to help her up; she takes his hand but drops his hand to cross her arms and quirk an eyebrow at him sceptically.

“Robert, I think that we should stay and talk about this, rather than running away.”

He gives a long, sharp exhale of breath. “I can’t. Not tonight. I just- I need to think about this.”

“Dad- I’m sorry.”

“Goodnight, Dan-” He nods at his eldest son. “Goodnight, Coraline, Marcus.”

No Corrie. No nickname. Just Coraline. He hasn’t called her that in a long time. Her full name, when it comes from him, always spells trouble. She’s heard so many jokes about how she can do no wrong in her father’s eyes - it was the same case with her mother and her brothers - but she’d never really believed anyone when they’d said that. Until now. It’s glaringly obvious when he calls out her full name, without the bright smile and sparkle in his eyes.

Her heart sinks to her stomach and she’s not sure that she’ll ever be able to pick it back up again.

He’s gone in a hurry. He ruffles his grandson’s hair and bids farewell to Kimmy, all the usual smiles he hadn’t wasted on Coraline and Daniel aimed at them, instead, and heads for his shoes and jacket, and then the door, with such haste it’s as if there’s a fire in the building and he needs to find his way out. The smile he turns to give them all before he opens the front door is barely a whisper of his usual and there’s an ice cold bolt of terrifying lightning that shoots through her, only alleviated by Marcus’ hand on her back.

“Are you okay?” His lips drop close to her ear. His breath stirs the hair by her neck and cheek, and she can feel the brush of his stubble against her neck and behind her ear. She’s so close that it feels strange when there are so many people around, even if it feels so normal for him to be beside her, like this. She shudders a little at the tickle. She can’t help it. It’s like she’s intoxicated, lost in that haze of worry and fear and the comfort of Marcus as he stands so close behind her.

“I don’t know,” Cora admits. Her voice trembles, even as she tries to keep it steady. Marcus wants to take her into his arms and hold her tight until she’s okay again. He knows he can’t do anything to fix this, but he’d be damned if he didn’t want to at least try.

“My darling, Coraline.” Her mother’s voice comes soft and soothing and, as she hurries towards her daughter, Coraline has to step away from Marcus. It comes reluctantly, and the cold flash of worry that had spilt over her - like being doused in a bucket of ice - finds its way back to her skin. “He will be okay, I promise you. You will be okay,” she insists. Her delicate hand cups her jaw, thumb brushing over her face reassuringly. “Think this through, talk it over with Marcus, and I will talk to your father tonight. Do not worry, darling, we will sort this out.”

Coraline sniffles, wrinkles her nose and brushes the freshly-fallen tears away from her damp cheeks. She hadn’t even realised she was crying until her mom brushed them away. “Thanks, mom.” She smiles the best she can but it’s weak and pathetic. At least she knows that her mom won’t judge her for her shaky half-smile and watery eyes. She’d been there for all her high school heartbreaks and then her divorce over FaceTime, but she’d also seen her cry over Hot Cheetos and mud on her shirt. Her mom could never make her feel embarrassed for crying over anything.

“Now, come here.” Celine holds her daughter close, brushes her fingers through her hair as it drops over her forehead and kisses her temple, delicate. “You’ll always be my little girl, you know that?” She taps her nose, inspiring a smile. “Think this through, really think all of this through, okay? I will call you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, please.”

Celine turns to Marcus and smiles a bright smile. “Thank you, Marcus. It was so lovely to meet you.”

“It was lovely to meet you, too, ma’am. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name in Cora’s stories.”

She smiles and squeezes his arm gently. “Please, call me Celine. I’m sorry for tonight, things aren’t usually so tense.”

“Don’t apologise,” he insists. “I’ll look out for her tonight.”

“I know you will.” Her smile is so genuine and sympathetic, thankful and relieved. “Goodnight, my darling.” She hums as she kisses Coraline’s forehead, with the intention of comfort. It seems to work; the rigid set of her shoulders gives way for just a moment, until she watches her leave with about as enthusiastic goodbye as she can muster for her grandkids; even Piper, who’d managed to sleep in her travel seat almost the entire time. Coraline sinks back into him the moment her mom’s figure disappears behind the front door.

She turns to him the moment the door clicks closed. She can’t seem to face looking him in the eyes. Her cheeks feel hot, bright red, and her eyes burn with a thousand unshed tears that she’d stoically been holding in until her mom had taken her in her arms and brushed a hand over her cheek. “I- I- fuck, Marcus- I’m so sorry. This is not how I wanted things to work out-”

“Hey, hey, hey-” She settles into his arms like she belongs there. His arms pull around her tight, keeping her close to his chest. Something about the measured, rhythmic set of his breathing helps to settle her running mind. “-you have nothing to apologise for, Sunshine.”

She practically crumbles when he holds her. Her hands clutch at him tightly and she tries to stop her shoulders from shuddering. His hand runs up and down her back, fingers brushing delicate against the silk fabric of her dress, soothing the terrible cold that shoots through her at her father’s hostility and the aching weakness that tugs at her chest. He almost kisses the shell of her ear as he whispers his comforting words, but stops himself once he remembers they have an audience.

Anyone else might misinterpret their actions as more than they are. As more than purely platonic.

“You’re trembling,” Marcus whispers. He can feel her shoulders shaking against him. It comes and goes, as if she’s trying to hold it in.

“I am?” She whispers but it’s muffled by his shirt.

She can only tell that he nods when his chin brushes against the top of head a couple of times.

“‘m sorry.”

Truth is, she’s freezing cold again. Has been since her father’s disapproval. She hasn’t felt a cold like it since her divorce, the night she and Scott had said their goodbyes for good, and she’d known that it was well and truly over. It had lingered upon her, like a taunting spectre. And it’s a chill that clings to her, holding on for dear life, with the ferocity of a blizzard, and just as unforgiving. His arms hold her close and inspire warmth within her, even for the few moments that he keeps her close.

...

The night seemed to stretch on for longer than it surely was. Minutes turned into hours, darkness had consumed the streets and everyone had left Coraline’s apartment, save for Marcus and Daniel.

Celine had texted Daniel to ask if everyone was okay once she and her husband had reached their hotel and delivered the reassuring news that Robert wasn’t really angry, just wasn’t sure where to place his emotions, in response to hearing his daughter was having a child with a man he’d only just met. He didn’t entirely blame him. He’s not sure he would be best pleased, either. Kimmy had left with the boys and Piper a little while later; the kids had somehow worn themselves out watching the TV, so they’d bundled them all down the stairs and into the car as best they could, as they grumbled and groaned out tired protests.

Daniel had stayed behind a little while to make sure that his sister was okay.

Marcus was an only child; he’d always wanted siblings growing up, but his parents never wanted more kids. He’d never felt lonely, when he was a kid - he had great friends, and his mom and dad were his heroes; he owed a lot to them for making him the man he was today - though he’d always wished he had someone to chase around the garden, to complain about the petty things his parents did that no one else would understand. To have someone to look out for, someone to look out for him. He wonders what it would feel like to have someone like that, someone always on his side. He’s always wanted a big family because he never wants his kids to miss out on something that they might want.

He thinks it gives her comfort to know that someone close to her actually supports her, rather than thinking it’s wrong that she’s even considering it. Even as she shuffles, trembling, into her bathroom, to try and wash away the chill, there’s no longer a ten tonne weight on her shoulders, bearing down angry on top of her.

It won’t help, the hot water. Not in the long run, at least. A temporary solution to a persistent problem.

She’s not sure she’ll ever be able to shake it.

“You think she’ll be okay?” Daniel questions as he leans back against the sofa, arms crossed tight over his chest, brows furrowed.

Marcus hums. There’s a wistful smile on his face. “I hope so.” He sighs and runs a hand over his jaw, shuffling awkwardly on his feet. “This is my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Marcus. My dad just worries, but he’ll calm down sooner or later.” Daniel tells him. “Did she ever tell you about her first boyfriend?” Marcus vaguely remembers her mentioning him over takeout one night; Kevin or Kyle, some name like that. That they’d dated for barely two months and that he was an asshole, and she’d never really found him attractive. She’d never really given him a reason as to why she’d even dated him in the first place, though. Daniel continues at the sight of Marcus’ acknowledgement. “Our dad hated him. Wouldn’t even let him in the house, said he was trouble and would lead her astray. She was in her rebellious phase so, of course, stubborn as she is, she didn’t listen.”

“Huh, sounds like Cora.” It made a lot of sense. He’s surprised he never even put two and two together when she’d told him the first time.

“He was right though- guy was a total asshole.” He chuckles, short and indistinct. It still doesn’t seem like the time to be laughing, not with the weight of Coraline’s sorrow looming over them. “My dad got over it the next day. But Cora? Found her crying in her bedroom at 3am, worried he’d hate her for the rest of her life. But this- this seems bigger.” It’s like he’s struck down with the realisation. “Maybe she should sleep at ours tonight.” He wonders out loud.

“I’ll stay on the couch tonight, make sure she’s okay,” Marcus insists.

“Are you sure?” Daniel raises his eyebrows, surprised. And it almost surprises Marcus just how ready he is to sleep on the sofa, for Coraline’s sake - albeit, a very plush and snug sofa that he’d napped on before (and, ultimately, faced the butt of Coraline’s ‘old man’ jokes when he woke) - but then, when he really thinks about it, it’s not entirely a shock to anyone that he would be willing to do this. He’s done far more for her in the past. He’s not even sure just how far he’ll go just to make sure that Coraline is okay. Daniel glances back at the sofa he’s leant against and offers Marcus an out. “She can take the guest room at our place, it’s no problem.”

Marcus shakes his head and smiles. He’s never been so sure of himself. “It’s fine, I’m here for her.”

Daniel tilts his head the same way Coraline does when she’s thinking. The corners of his mouth pick up. “I’m glad she has you.” He sighs and pushes himself up from the sofa. “Thank you for this, Marcus. I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. We’re not usually so… argumentative.” He huffs out a laugh and holds his hand out for Marcus to shake.

He shakes his head. Families are hard, sometimes. He’s witnessed that himself, first hand. “It’s no problem,” he insists. Marcus reaches for the blanket Coraline keeps folded over the back of the couch, ready to tuck himself under when she’s okay, again. “She needs someone tonight.”

He smiles gratefully. “Well, I best get going. Kim won’t forgive me if she has to do bedtime alone.” He chuckles and reaches out to shake Marcus’ hand again. “Nice to see you again, Marcus. Sorry about all of this.”

He bids Daniel farewell and locks the door. He finishes the last of the washing up, tucking each plate and piece of cutlery away into their designated place, so familiar with Coraline’s kitchen that he doesn’t even need to ask anymore.

He hears the shower shut off and, a little while later, the shuffling of slippered feet against the tiled floor. Coraline emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped tight around her frame, catching the drips of water that cascade down her back and shoulders, far too exhausted to care about him seeing her half-naked, wet-haired and fresh out of the shower. It makes her head spin to realise that he’s already seen more than that, anyway. The blush that creeps up at the thought almost burns her cheeks. She ducks into her bedroom and emerges a few seconds later in her stripey sleep shorts and a well-worn t-shirt with ‘Radiohead’ emblazoned across the chest. “You should get going,” she reminds him. Even her voice is exhausted and he wouldn’t be surprised if the second she tucked herself up in bed, she’d be asleep and dead to the world until morning.. “It’s getting late and I’m sure you have work early tomorrow.”

“I’m staying right here tonight.” He tells her. “If that’s okay?”

“You don’t have to,” she urges. “Not for me. I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to be alone when you’re upset. I’m half of this, too”

There’s a beat of silence. It’s a lot heavier when it isn’t filled with quiet music. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice breaks when she speaks and he can tell that she’s close to tears again.

“Hey, hey-” He takes the few steps closer over to Coraline and takes her face in his hands. He tilts her head back a little, ever so gentle, and smiles at her. “-stop apologising. Not your fault.”

“I- fuck-” She tips her cheek into one of his hands and sinks into his embrace. She closes her eyes and the breath she takes is deep and rattling. “Dinner was great,” she whispers and they’re both grinning at the sudden burst of compliment she utters.

“My mom’s recipe.”

“Yeah? I’ll have to thank her someday.”

His smile is blissful. “You want to meet her?”

Her head tilts back as she laughs, like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I need to meet the woman who raised such a wonderful human being. She must be pretty great.” She can’t help the yawn that crawls out of her mouth; she tries to smother it with her hands.

“You need to sleep.”

“Oh, pfft, I’m fine.” She brushes off his concern.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Don’t make me call your mom.”

“Is that a threat?”

“As an FBI agent, I’m required to say no because threatening civilians is frowned upon.”

Coraline scoffs and rolls her eyes, and finally surrenders to Marcus’ suggestion. “Fine.”

Marcus trails her when she wanders into her bedroom. She sets herself down on the edge of her comforter and her shoulders slump again, sinking into herself. He can see that she’s exhausted, tears tearing away at the last saps of her energy, and the shower she’d had does nothing to lessen the puffiness that has settled beneath her eyes. The flush that decorates her cheeks whenever she’s embarrassed paints her eyes, now.

“I’m sorry again,” she whispers, quiet.

“Goodnight, Sunshine.” He turns to leave, feet stuttering across the floor and he pauses the moment she calls out for him again. It’s quiet, but in the silence of her apartment, he can’t help but hear her welcoming voice.

“Marcus-” Her voice is thick in her throat and she struggles to find her words. They seem to die in her throat. “-will you stay?” She manages to ask, finally.

He nods, smooths back her dishevelled hair from her face and leans down to kiss her forehead, a sweet and simple gesture that she appreciates beyond belief. “I am. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

“No. Marcus.” She reaches for him. His arms, his wrist, his fingers. She finds purchase at his fingers and entwines the digits together. She’s peering up at him through her lashes, looking at him with expectation. “I mean- will you stay, please? Here- I need you here-” Coraline’s voice is small and quiet, timid and unsure. It’s a request that seems to terrify her, but all she wants is him to be here and to hold her, and to make her feel like things might actually be okay, even if right now she’s struggling to see how anything positive could come out of her dad - the first person to ever make her believe she could do anything she set her heart on - likely hating her, right now.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispers as she presses her and Marcus’ clasped hands against her cheek. He feels the gentle curve of her nose brush against the inside of his wrist when she nuzzles herself closer into his touch. “Please.”

He moves to unlace their fingers and her hand drops into her lap. She’s about ready to cry, convinced that - after hearing her father’s reaction to their agreement - he’d been scared away, well and truly. She can feel the tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to spill over her lashes and down her face, and she’s sure she’d look utterly pathetic, with hot tears carving a scorching path down her cheeks. But his hand finds her cheek again, soft and tender and without the obstruction of her hand, this time. Brown eyes gaze down at her and warm her soul. His thumb brushes delicate over her cheekbone; she only realises she’s crying, then, when the rough pad of his thumb swipes wet across her skin.

“I could never leave you.” His voice is low, smooth like honey. He leans down again, to press the most fleeting of kisses to her forehead, before he’s holding her close. Marcus lays her down beside him, chests pressed firm together. He can feel each shaky breath she exhales as her hands bunch into his shirt. She tugs him closer, somehow.

Coraline tilts her head up towards him. “Thank you,” she whispers, unbunching one fist from his shirt to reach up for this cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. They spend a moment gazing at each other; merely a heartbeat that seems to stretch on for a lifetime. But, in reality, it doesn’t last long before she ducks her head again, presses her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt - surely terribly uncomfortable to sleep in, though, at least he doesn’t have his tie on - and thanks God that he’s here, holding her so close and so gently. She’s not sure she could deal with this alone, without him here to hold her. She feels the lingering couple of kisses that he leaves against the top of her head.

Her breathing evens out and she settles comfortable against him, and her dreams have taken over before she can hear the ‘I love you’ that he can’t contain any longer. He’s never said that out loud, never even admitted to himself that maybe that’s how he feels. And he knows he’s in too deep, deeper than he ever thought he would be again, deeper than he ever thought he’d let himself get again, and he reconciles his feelings as he lets sleep and the gentle tangle of her limbs around his consume him.

#marcus pike x female character #marcus pike x original character #marcus pike x fem!oc #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x original female character #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist #coraline meyer #original character #oc #pedro pascal x oc #pedro pascal x reader

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your-daily-biaswrecking · 3 years

Text

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader

genre: angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 7.3k | reading time: 40 min

chapter summary: flash backs clear the mystery of their first encounter, they fight over it, and then things get a bit heavier

warnings: there’s finally some sexy stuff going on yall, alcohol usage, metions of cheating, some dirty talk ig, some not very fluffy smut, almost angry fucking, dubious I’d say, fingering f.receiving, oral f.receiving, kinda dom!Tae, name calling kink? idk

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Chapter 5: Irresistible urges of the past

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 7:35 pm

The party was Yoonji's idea but you never complained. Well, okay, you complained a little bit. But that was only when you heard the approximate number of guests that had been invited so far and argued your small, shared apartment would probably collapse from the total weight in it. You offered to move the function over to the bar down the street, but apparently, that's not a house-warming party.

"How on earth are so many people coming, anyway? We have, like, five friends at most. And that is including the lunch lady."

Yoonji gave you those puppy eyes. "Well, actually, Jimin just made an Instagram story to get the word out, not thinking many would wanna come," she mumbled under her breath, almost like she was trying to avoid giving you the explanation. "But it turns out ever since that video he did, lots and lots of people wanna be his friend now."

You exhaled hard, making a pathetic sound. "You gave the guy you've only been seeing for a couple of weeks permission to invite people to our party?"

She pouted at you. "I thought you liked him. Plus, he offered to do this for us. We barely know people here, Amy, this party is going to be the best to see new faces."

You chewed your lip as you were setting the drinks on the table in a nice order and contemplated your roommate's words. "What do you need new people for?" you whined. "You already have a best friend and a hot boyfriend."

Yoonji bumped her shoulder on your arm playfully. "But you don't. Who knows, maybe you'll like one of Jimin's friends."

You rolled your eyes at her, but that didn't cover up the smile that had started to form. "Doubt it," you objected. "Models are not exactly my type."

You heard Yoonji laugh from the kitchen. "Jimin's not a model!" she shouted back. Then peeked her head around the doorway to raise an eyebrow at you. "I mean, you're not entirely wrong."

People that you had never even seen before started showing up at your place, and without fail, they all asked where Jimin and Taehyung were. Rude, you thought. That was not their party; something that could easily be deduced by how they weren't even there yet. Also, when had Jimin become so popular all of a sudden? And who the fuck was Taehyung?

At about an hour after the place was already packed and your roommate's boyfriend had finally made an appearance, Yoonji just so happened that she was constantly MIA, and the task of welcoming the people that kept and kept on coming, fell entirely on your shoulders. A task that briefly seemed not so bad when you opened the door and a brown-haired, pretty boy stood in front of you. You guessed models were indeed invited to that party, the only explanation you could come up with for why the most handsome man you had ever led your eyes upon was looking at you and smiling.

"Is this Yoonji's and... Amy's party?" he asked and you were taken aback by his deep, raspy voice that countered his charming face.

"Yes," you said, letting him in. "And are you on the bride's or the groom's side?" You hated the joke the moment it left your lips, a moment too late to take it back. Five full seconds spent with a cute boy and you were already acting weird.

But the boy laughed, and the sound quite literally lifted your spirits. "I am with Jimin if that's what you're asking."

"Of course you are. Jacket?" You offered your hands up for him.

"Oh, right, where can I leave this?" he asked as he slid the piece of garment off his shoulders. You opened the door right behind you, a door that normally led to a small storage space, but you had turned into a temporary closet with all the jackets and purses you had shoved in there. The boy leaned next to you as he tried to find somewhere to leave his outerwear without just dropping it on the pile on the floor.

"Let me," you offered, taking a random jacket that hung from the ironing board, abandoning it on the ground, and replacing it with the pretty boy's one. That's pretty privilege for you.

He chuckled. "Whose was that? Is that okay?"

"Who cares, it's my house."

"Oh," he exclaimed, watching you more closely as you closed the door again and turned to him with your lips awkwardly pressed into a thin line. You pinned your body on the wall, waiting for him to move or say something. "You're Amy?" You nodded, and the boy burst out a big smirk. "Well, well, well..." he rasped. "I'm gonna kick Jimin's ass so hard. He didn't tell me Yoonji had such a cute roommate."

The way your entire face felt like it had caught on fire in a split second almost scared you. It definitely made your eyes widen and your head go into a defense mode; you had never flustered before, of course your brain would think it was under attack. And of course you would reply with something stupid again, like snorting and saying: "Right. And you are?"

"Kim Taehyung, freshly graduated and aspiring big photographer," he proudly introduced himself. It all suddenly seemed to click and you barely held yourself from gasping right in his face. He extended a hand to you, and you took it, ready to shake it. Instead, he surprised you by bringing it to his lips and planting a soft kiss right between your knuckles. "Enchanté," he whispered with his dark eyes piercing yours.

The stupid fire all over your face got worse. So worse all you could do was quickly pull away and scoff at him, but also laugh. "That was too much!"

"Sorry," he chuckled and gave you a big, boxy grin. "I was trying to make you swoon."

You couldn't help but mimic his energy. "Does that ever work on anyone?" Well, what a liar you are. It had literally turned your stomach into a knot.

And Taehyung, almost as if he knew that, smirked at you. "You'd be surprised."

Okay, so you may have overreacted a tiny bit when you took off running away from Taehyung. There could possibly have been other ways to go about it, like gently pushing him off and telling him this was a mistake, trying to talk, or even staying silent. Your head was spinning so hard as you stumbled down that path wishing you don't get lost in the foggy state your mind had dipped in due to the haste. And it had almost cleared, you had almost stopped to think about this rationally and wait for the photographer so that you could walk home together, but the longer you thought about it more clearly, the faster you ran. You didn't even know if it was fear or shame that was powering your flight, but it had to be one of those.

The further you stayed locked in your room, the later emotion became more and more prominent. You saw Taehyung emerge from the trees sometime later and get in the house, you heard him on the downstairs floor, you saw the lights turn on and off... He was everywhere, and you were hiding away, terrified and ashamed. How could you ever meet his eyes again? But most importantly, how would you face yourself in the mirror? You knew that was the worst part of the whole situation; you let your own self down.

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 1:23 am

You returned on the corner that Taehyung and you had been occupying all night long with a drink in your hands, swaying around and trying to survive the mob of drunk college students that were doing what you were sure they thought was dancing in the middle of the living room. Some of the drink spilled on the way and you're not sure if it was because of all the bumping on people or the way you had started seeing everything double and losing your balance pretty easily.

"What the hell happened to my chair?" you whined as you found the photographer sitting there alone when you had specifically asked him to save you the seat.

He shrugged. "I couldn't defend it, sorry." Then he spread his legs wide and pat his thigh, looking up at you with a smirk. "Just sit here."

You didn't think twice; sat down on his offered position, swinging your legs to the side to completely lie on his lap and an arm around his neck for balance. Your face was inches away from his, so much so you could smell the alcohol in his breath, his hands instantly on your waist and hips to pull you close. But it felt so comfortable. Since the moment you met, you hadn't left each other's side, and you hadn't stopped touching. Touching as in holding hands while talking or pushing him while laughing, playing with your clothes or stroking each other's hair. It seemed like there was always an excuse, or, better yet, constantly a need to touch.

"Ugh!" he gagged when he took one sip of the drink you had brought right to his lips. "What is this shit?"

You giggled. "Tequila."

"Is it just tequila?"

You kept giggling. "Actually, we ran out of soft drinks so I mixed it with water."

His mouth dropped open and he started laughing, too. "Of course! Why wouldn't you!" His hands around your body squeezed you tighter and you had to squirm around, still a need to get even closer.

"It's not that bad," you proclaimed, then took a sip from the same straw and had your entire face scrunch up. "See?"

Taehyung had gotten serious, staring at you intensely, as he slowly brought the straw right on his tongue yet again. He took a generous gulp, then offered the drink to you, his eyes fixed on your lips and the way they wrapped around right where his had just been. His stare gave you goosebumps, and you pressed yourself even closer, your hip flushed right against his lower abdomen.

"You know I don't drink," he said in a whisper. He didn't need to speak louder, you were right there. "I'm only doing this for you."

"Well," you mumbled as your fingers ran through the back of his hair. "That makes two of us doing something we don't usually do tonight." And you meant it. You never did this; whatever this was. Sitting on a cute boy's lap that you had only met a couple of hours ago, ready to devour him with the first chance you got. And boy, would you devour him.

"We haven't done anything yet," Taehyung noted, his hand dipping between your legs to pinch your thing.

"Yet," you murmured, pressing even closer to him, feeling his erection grow against your hip.

Your eyes alone could communicate. And all they conveyed was the urgency to get out of there. The need to be alone. Your entire body burned with that need, or maybe it was the alcohol. With no words spoken, you both got up, holding hands not to get lost in the crowd, and searched in the apartment for an empty room. The bathroom was locked, the kitchen busy, one bedroom filled with boys playing video games and the other with smokers. Taehyung pulled you towards the exit; he wasn't about to let the moment escape him. He would get you in his car or even back to his place if he had to, just to get his hands properly on you.

But you didn't have time for that. You needed him right away. So you opened up that makeshift closet and shoved him inside. Space was limited and your bodies were naturally pressed together. The moment the door closed behind you, you realized how dark it was; the light switch being outside, forgotten. You felt his hands ran up your body, trying to blindly find your face with haste like he was being chased.

His lips found yours. And you indeed devoured each other. He had you pinned against the door and his fingers through your hair as he kissed you like a starved man. You know how first kisses almost always suck? How it takes a while to find the right rhythm, to lean into it just enough to match the other's technic? That was nothing like that. It was the best kiss you had ever had, it was so perfect and so right. The way his lips moved over your own and his tongue stroked you, it was like you had done this a million times already, or simply like you were made for each other.

Nothing could stop you now. Not even your common sense that would advise you against fucking just anyone in that tiny space, when everyone was still outside. But common sense had left you long ago. Your body was being controlled by an innate, animalistic hunger. And you moaned his name as you straddled his waist and let him suck hickeys into your neck. And you thought about how this is the best thing that had happened to you as you started taking off his belt.

You heard it again; a thump in the room. This time it was certainly not just in your head. You looked around -let's be honest- scared out of your mind because the last thing you needed right now was for something to be hidden in there with you.

"Tae?" you asked in a low voice, just in case he was playing a stupid prank on you. But you were met with silence.

Until it happened again, a louder tap, and this time you determined it was coming from the window. Slowly, while keeping your body as far away as you could, you got closer. You stared at the glass, trying to figure out why it was making that sound. Then you saw it; a small pebble clashing on the pane and disappearing just as fast. You opened it immediately and leaned outside.

"What the hell?" you shouted when you noticed the shadow-covered man standing in the garden under your room. "What are you doing down there?"

Taehyung tossed away the stones he had in his palms, straining his neck to look up at you. "I wanted to talk to you."

"And you thought -instead of just coming to my room- it'd be easier to walk downstairs, get outside and throw rocks at my window?"

"I thought you wouldn't let me in if I just knocked on your door," he explained.

You groaned. He wasn't wrong; you would have probably continued to hide away and avoid him. But he didn't have to be so dramatic about it. Well, not that you are one to talk. "Ugh, just- get your ass in here," you shouted back.

"You're gonna talk to me?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

You groaned again. "Yes!"

You saw Taehyung run inside as if he was afraid you would change your mind in the meantime. Perhaps you would. You really didn't want to talk to him. What would you even say? You had no excuse to give him, or no excuse you wanted him to know, anyway. All you wanted was to pretend he wasn't even there until morning came; then you could drive back home and go back to pretending you didn't even know each other.

"He is crazy," you mumbled to yourself as you decided you couldn't evade this anymore. "No, that man is certified insane!" you kept on complaining to no one as you opened your door and dashed away.

You ran into him in the middle of the staircase. Stood there, just a step away from him, with your arms folded over your chest, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.

"So?" you spat.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said in a whisper, a tone that sounded like he was guilty of something.

"Yes, I got that. You can talk now."

He looked down at your feet. "Here?"

You scoffed and moved past him, jogging down the stairs and taking a turn towards the kitchen. The boy followed you diligently. When you reached the room, you immediately grabbed a glass and filled it with water, chugging it down in one go and going for a second turn. You really wished this was something stronger, looking around to see if you could spot a bottle of some kind of liquor. You would need it if you were to have the conversation you thought you would.

"I have a confession to make," Taehyung announced after he decided the silence was enough.

You froze, the glass of water still against your lips, and you looked at him from the corner of your eyes. "Oh, please," you groaned but still couldn't move. "No more confessions from you."

He sighed, walking until he got right in front of you so that he could look you in the eyes for this. "I remember your party."

See, this is exactly what you feared the most. This...This conversation was what was making this place truly haunted for you.

"What?" you weakly breathed.

"Your... welcoming party? With Yoonji?" he continued. As if you didn't know what party he was talking about. "I remember everything about it."

"But-"

"I wasn't that drunk."

The glass hit the counter with such force, for a second you thought you had broken it in your grip. But it had just provided a loud noise as you gaped at the boy in front of you. What were you supposed to say, now? Where to start?

"You didn't even remember meeting me!" you called out.

"Yeah I- I lied."

The worst part wasn't that he was pretending he didn't know who you were. No, that was low-key genius and you would have done the exact same thing if you were quick enough to think of it when you found yourself in that sitting room, across the person you least wanted to see. The worst part was that you had believed it. You felt like such an idiot. You had believed it and thought it meant you could have a clean start.

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 1:44 am

You didn't want to stop, but you still did, when Taehyung's phone went off. When he pulled away, gasping for air and apologizing. You thought you were having a moment there, you know, a moment where no matter who was calling, it wasn't important enough to pick up. But he apparently didn't see it that way. He took one look at his screen and asked you to be quiet.

Maybe your eyes accidentally caught the pet name on his contact for a split second, or maybe it was the girly voice that came muffled from the speaker, but your head started spinning without warning. And the space was suddenly too small, and it was choking you. You found the knob before he realized what you were doing, and with your body weight on the door, you were launched outside; into the light that burned your eyes. A girl was standing on the other side of the hallway, looking at you with judgement in her eyes and her phone in her hands, then immediately averting her pretentious gaze. A hand tried to hold onto your shirt to keep you back, but you escaped.

You stumbled through the place, not sure where you were trying to go or who you were trying to find, solely trying to keep yourself up and not barf on the new carpet. You wanted to get away, but where could you go? You lived there. You heard Yoonji's laugh before you even saw her, sighing in relief when you spotted her in the kitchen and letting your body fall on hers.

"Baby, baby, everything alright?" your roommate called for you, but you just held onto her without a word. She tried to bear your weight as best as she could, holding onto the counter so that you wouldn't both plummet onto the floor.

Another hand rubbed your back. "Did you drink a little too much, Ames?" It was Jimin's sweet voice. You whined into your friend's neck before you pulled back to look at her boyfriend.

"Jimin, is Kim Taehyung your friend?" you asked him.

He frowned, a little confused as to how the conversation got there. "Ye- yeah. He's my best friend. You met him, right?"

"Yeah," Yoonji responded for you. "I saw them talking earlier."

You took a deep breath; everything seemed to be against you at that moment, even the air itself, and you were trying so hard to not crumble. "Does he have a girlfriend?" you dared ask, even though you thought you might vomit if you heard the answer.

"Who? Tae?" Yoonji mumbled. You nodded, and she gave you a smirk right away. "Ohh... Why do you ask, baby? You interested?"

You rolled your eyes as both of them started teasing you. "No," you tried to tell them.

"Why, was he flirting with you?"

"How does he get every girl like that?"

"No, guys-"

"I don't blame her. He's so hot."

"Hey! I'm right here!"

"Just answer the damn question!" you yelled at them, and they finally stopped. Jimin looked at you with the same frown again.

"He does," he said and everything that was spinning in the room stopped abruptly. "Sorry, love. I promise you'll be the first to know when they break up."

Everything was foggy, and you felt numb. So numb, there was absolutely no thought in your head. You barely noticed the couple turn their heads to the door, barely realized who it was they were looking at.

"No, thanks," you whispered to Jimin then and pulled Yoonji away. "Bathroom," you simply stated and she carefully took you there, avoiding successfully the boy that was the topic of your conversation. For the first time of the many, many more that followed. All those times you stayed clear of gatherings you knew he would be at. All those times you changed your way, left a coffee shop, stayed silently in a corner in places there was nowhere else to go. You never told Yoonji exactly why you didn't want to be in the same room with him again, but she was very supportive no matter what.

You weren't sure why, either. Whether it was your hurt ego, your high standards for the people surrounding you, or the shame you felt every time you met his eyes, you couldn't tell. One thing you knew for sure was how you vowed to never fall for that again. Not from Taehyung, and not from anyone else. No more hooking up with random fuck boys at parties. No more associating yourself with people you don't even value enough. Kim Taehyung was an asshole, and you didn't care what he did or who he did it with, but you would rather be caught dead than be caught with him ever again.

Yet there you were. With him.

You cleared your throat. "And you're telling me this now because...?"

The photographer frowned, mostly at himself, clenching his jaw and looking at the ground. "Well, because you kissed me and ran away as if your life depended on it. Thought it might have something to do with that."

"Right." You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding slightly as you tried to think of what to say. Truly, what could you say? There have been so many things torturing your mind, but you didn't know which of those would be worth saying aloud. "Okay," you simply mumbled. "Are we done then?"

You tried walking past him but he held you back. "Wait, wait, hold on. You promised we would talk."

You just looked at him with your eyes wide. "You said you had a confession to make. You made it. There’s nothing more to say about that."

"Yes, there is."

"Like what?"

Taehyung snorted, finally letting you go. "Like what your problem with me is!"

You released a bitter laugh. "I thought you said you remember everything about that night."

He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "It's been three years-"

"And you stay lying to me." He looked at you intensely but you didn't back down. You might not have wanted to have this conversation, but now that it was happening, you wouldn't cower one bit.

"Look," he started, taking a step closer. "What I did was wrong. Both to you and to my girlfriend. I understand, it was very shitty and I don't have any excuses. I'm not here to give you any excuses."

"Yeah, 'cause there is no excuse for such a thing," you bit back.

Taehyung sighed at your attitude, somewhat losing his patience, but continued. "Right," he mumbled through his teeth. "I told her what I did and we broke up. Actually, she forgave me and wanted to stay with me but I insisted on breaking up because I didn't want her to be in a relationship where I made such a mistake, I wanted her to find someone better."

You shrugged, folding your arms over your chest yet again and tapping your foot on the floor. "Alright. Good for her. What do you want, a cookie?"

"No-"

"You really did less than the minimum, there, buddy. I don't know what you want from me right now."

"I- nothing!"

"Then why are you telling me this?"

He paused, opening and closing his mouth again, clearly not knowing how to reply. Maybe he expected a different reaction, or maybe he was nervous and it all translated into a type of irritation, but he was starting to look angry. "Because!" he said in a louder tone. "Because you keep treating me like that, you're acting like I'm this huge asshole, and I get it- first impressions are hard to change, but I'm not! I'm not that asshole you've made me out to be and quite frankly it's starting to get pretty annoying."

You chuckled. What else were you supposed to do? You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Excuse me, but I have the right to believe anything I want about you. If I have a certain idea of who you are and it's not affecting you in any way, then what's the problem?" You saw Taehyung roll his eyes and turn away, his hands on his hips as he shook his head and sighed. "If I think what you did is bad enough for me to never change my mind about you, then that's my opinion."

He was mumbling his words out, not being able to form a sentence long enough for it to make sense. "But that's- you-" He kept grunting and shaking his head at you until he finally spoke up. "Three years!" he announced. "It's been three years, Amy, and you're still punishing me for this. Alright, it's your opinion to determine the gravity of it, but don't tell me it doesn't affect me. Not when you've been avoiding me for three years."

"I haven't-" you tried to lie.

But he knew better than that. "Yes, you have. Every time I wanted to come along with my friends, something always came up and you'd bail. You didn't even show up at Jimin's birthday for crying aloud! Because you knew I'd be there. And I wanted to talk to you, apologize to you. I liked you and wanted to make this right and you never gave me the chance." He took a deep breath after having given his monologue in a haste, almost like he was scared his words would bail, too, if he wasn't quick enough. "And then you're wondering why I pretended I didn't remember you?" You blinked at him when you realized he was waiting for an answer. You had none to give him. "What was I supposed to do, huh? What could I have done that wouldn't have resulted in you getting back in that car and driving away?"

You stayed silent, looking at him through your lashes, then averting your gaze again. You sniffed your nose a couple of times as you were trying to get your thoughts straight. Kicked the floor once or twice as you felt your body squirm under his stare; he wouldn't relieve you from the scrutiny. "I..." you finally mumbled. "I'm not interested in reconciling with you." You gulped but noticed his stance and expression didn't change at all. Like he expected those words. "I'm sorry if that's what you wanted to do, and that I prevented you from even trying. But I won't change my mind about this."

He licked his lips, looking at you with a serious frown, then simply said: "Why?"

Why was he even asking? Was it not obvious? "Look, I simply don't like people who do things like these. I don't want them as boyfriends, or friends, or anything. Nothing personal."

"But that's what I'm trying to say!" he insisted. "I'm not like that." He came close, so close his face was hovering above yours merely inches away, staring into your eyes with a sort of urgency. An urgency for you to understand him. "I'm not normally like that. That night... I don't know. That night was an exception. I really don't want to give you cliché excuses, but I thought you knew. I thought you felt it, too. I'm not crazy, right? There was something there that you felt, too?"

You gulped again, looking him up and down with fire all over your face. Because you knew instantly what he meant. But it had to take a few moments for it to actually sink in. That it wasn't just you. And that he, too, was unable to keep his hands from you that night. It certainly didn't justify his actions or lessen your disdain for him. But at least it felt a tiny bit good to know that you weren't just a naive little girl who had fallen for the pretty boy's trick, just like dozens of others.

"That still doesn't explain..." you started saying, keeping your opinion openly still the same, yet not denying his words.

"I know it doesn't!" he was quick to say. His eyes traveled all over your face, the tone of his voice having calmed a bit. "It was very douchy of me and I don't expect to be forgiven for it. Which is why I didn't stay with that girl." You jumped slightly when you felt his hands land on your arms. But you didn't pull away. "But I don't understand why you have to be so harsh on me. It's been three years, and this is still obviously bothering you. You haven't let it go even a little bit."

You looked away, taking a step back, but he quickly made up for it. "It doesn't bother me," you said, tongue in cheek.

"Well, it clearly does," he insisted. "When you are cold to me one moment, kissing me the next, and then running away like I hurt you."

"You did hurt me."

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Before you even knew what you were saying yourself. He hurt you. You had never admitted that before. Always blaming your anger and aversion to him on your morals or whatever. Yet that was the true reason you didn’t want to see him, and you didn’t want to talk to him, and definitely not kiss him again.

Taehyung paused, taking a deep breath. He leaned nearer as he looked down at your lips as whispered. “I know,” he said in a sweet voice as if to reassure you. “I know.” That meant you weren’t crazy. “But why is it still hurting you now?” You tensed up at his question. “Why do you care -about me- so much that this is, to this day, an open wound?”

You scoffed. But you couldn't say anything. You tried pushing him away, and for a moment he let you, but then he was right in front of you again. Even closer, perhaps. “What are you…?” you murmured, looking quite lost. Especially with the close proximity that was driving your mind into a frenzy.

“Do you still like me?” he asked, straightforward.

“No!” you called immediately. But he didn’t seem convinced, raising an eyebrow at you. "I’m not still hurt. I just… I told you. I simply don't want anything to do with someone like you. So it's fine when you keep your distance, but it's not fine when you kiss me. I said I don't want- ."

"Yeah, yeah, you don't want a boyfriend nor a friend like me," he interrupted you to finish your sentence. "Not that I ever offered to be either of those."

Your cheeks flushed and you looked away immediately so as not to get caught. "I- I didn't say I wanted you to."

Taehyung chuckled. The sound almost scared you more than when he was shouting earlier. Because you knew a casual, flirty Taehyung was always more dangerous. "You know, you kissed me!" he reminded you.

Your mouth dropped in a dramatic way. "You seduced me into kissing you!" you complained.

And the boy laughed even harder. "Seduced? Is that your way of saying you couldn't resist me?"

You tried to fight back at his remarks that clearly only served the role of firing you up -whether that was with anger or something else, you weren't sure. And then he had the audacity to wonder why you still didn't like him? But your voice cracked, as you backed until your body hit the kitchen counter and your hands held the edge tight. "Is not!" you managed to get out.

Taehyung’s arms trapped you in that counter, his hands holding onto it on either side of your body until you were caged between them, as he leaned even closer, standing one breath away and staring at you with a smirk on his lips. It was clear then, he wasn’t trying to talk anymore.

“C’mon,” he rasped, a voice so low that it vibrated in frequencies hard to hear. “I know you can’t resist me. You couldn’t do it three years ago and you can’t do it now.”

Your palms hit his chest, trying to push him away from you as you breathed heavily, hearing your own heartbeat in your head and feeling your control slipping through your fingers. But you still couldn’t form any words. Your brain had shut down when it came to that. Just spinning around as Taehyung kept getting closer. What the hell was he trying to do?

"I'm just saying… There is no one here to judge you for it. No one will know you went against your morals," he purred, a hand leaving your side briefly to swipe your hair off your shoulder and caress your neck in the process. The contact made your palms clench into fists, his shirt pooling under your grip. And there were two ways you could go about this; either push or pull him.

“Tae…”

“Go on then,” he said in a teasing tone. “Show me how much you hate me, princess. How you despise me and everything I stand for. Resist me.”

You did hate him. And you hated being proven wrong. So, those two together should result in you pushing him away and going to your room. Right? You should resist that man, it couldn’t be so hard, anyway. So tell me why the way he was looking at you made your knees buck? Why his words filled your stomach with butterflies, his scent numbed your brain like a hallucinogen? Why you couldn’t resist him.

Tell me why you pulled him in by the shirt.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around yours. Didn’t waste any time to hold you by the waist and press his body on yours. This was the third chance he was given for this and he was about to make it work. And he seemed to have been waiting for it. He already knew what to do, how to hold you, how to kiss you in order to make you moan in his mouth. It was the party scene all over again; as in, you were devouring each other in a sort of urgency, bumping your lips together like you were drunk and had just found the person you were feeling the craziest chemistry with, grinding on each other as if you were trying to merge together.

And maybe he was right; you could never resist him.

Your fingers dipped into his soft locks and he moaned your name. He snaked his arms under your thighs to push you up, letting you sit at the edge of the counter. He immediately filled in the gap between your legs, hands rubbing up and down your back, while you started kissing down his neck, making sure to mark him as if he was yours. He hissed and growled every time you bit him, riding your shirt up to get a feel of your skin underneath. Then finding your hands, intertwining your fingers together, and pushing them past your body, almost like he was trying to confine them away from him. And you hated not being able to touch him, hated how he pushed your body back to have you almost lay on the counter completely, and you couldn’t move. Because you wanted more.

And maybe he was right; no one would ever know about this. So perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to do this. This mistake. Taehyung.

“Princess, if you plan on regretting this and running away again, you better tell me now,” he rasped while kissing your collarbone. “I might not stop later.”

He was giving you an out. And normally you would have taken it. But at that moment the only thing busying your mind was that implied promise of what was to come.

“You better not,” you mumbled, more to yourself, but heard him chuckle when he heard it, too.

His hands clenched harder around yours before he released you in favor of grabbing your ass and your thighs. He squeezed you close, pulling you until your crotch was rubbing against his clear erection under his pants, and all you could do was whimper. Still kissing his neck, that sweet spot under his ear, biting his lob, and hearing him grunt at the way you were making him feel. Your hands, free now, could run up his toned arms and enjoy his body like you wanted to for a while.

He pulled his head slightly back to look into your eyes. His seemed so unfocused, so dark, like he had gotten high from you. “You want me to make you feel good?” he asked with a smirk. You weren’t sure if he was asking for permission or just building the anticipation.

“Can you?” No, you weren’t making a plea. You were questioning his skills. And he picked it up from your tone immediately.

“Can I?” he snorted, his eyes turning to the ceiling before he let his fingers slowly and very slightly brush your naked belly, moving further down. Your entire body squirmed with the rhythm of his fingertips. “You shiver every time I touch you. So, yeah, I think I can do anything I want to you.”

You immediately punched his chest, pushing him away. “God, I hate you.”

But his smug smirk wouldn’t back down. And he wouldn’t let go of you. “We have already established that,” he murmured, as he lowered his head down- and farther down- until it was right in front of the fly of your pants. And your stomach was sucked in the entire time, your whole body, actually, as if you were trying to take up less space. As if you were trying to pull away from him, even though at the same time you could feel your lower half burning from want, and your lips were already missing his.

But then he looked up at you too, as he was bent down there in front of your crotch, to stare into your eyes through his lashes with a hotshot grin and his tongue between his teeth; and you forgot how to breathe. And then he unbuttoned you with his mouth, biting the zipper and pulling it down slow enough for you to feel every vibration on your body, without ever breaking eye contact; and you thought your soul left your body.

He was back at his normal height, pushing your pants down while licking his lips and examining your face. “Alright, princess,” he spoke in a low tone. “I will give you my best, on one condition.” The pants were completely off and he was working on your unimpressive underwear next. “Every time I do make you feel good, you have to say my name.”

He had gotten you all naked from your waist down, yet he still hadn’t even glanced there; kept his eyes stubbornly on yours. But when you tried to press your legs together, feeling shy and exposed, he was holding them tight. “That’s your condition?” you wondered, not seeming too hard to do. You were probably going to do it anyway.

He leaned down, keeping his lips close enough to rub on yours when he spoke. “Yes. Every time. I want you to keep reminding yourself who it is that is making you feel this way.” When he kissed you, it worked almost as a distraction to how one hand crept in between your thighs and pressed around your folds, yet avoiding the place you needed him to touch.

His lips moved at the same rhythm as his fingers, his tongue slipping in your mouth right as he finally moved them closer, getting them all dirty with your wetness. Index and middle finger rubbing up and down, brushing against your clit and over your opening but never giving into either. You hummed in frustration as you bit down on his bottom lip, your hips trying to move forward, trying to get more.

“What did I tell you?” he whispered, increasing his pressure on your clit just for a moment, a moment long enough to make you gasp with your mouth open over his.

“Tae…” you breathed.

“Say it,” he insisted.

“Taehyung,” you moaned, closing your eyes as he started moving his fingers in circles over the sensitive bud like a reward.

“You’re so wet, already,” he observed, something quite obvious from the sounds the simple movement was creating. “Is that all for me?” He pulled his head back to watch your reaction better, smiling when he saw you nodding. “Good girl,” he purred, rewarding you yet again with sliding one finger easily inside.

"Oh,” you moaned, your body immediately arching towards his. You still needed more. The better it all felt, the more you wanted from him.

The photographer inhaled sharply through his teeth, stilling his actions. “Amy, what did we say?”

“Taehyung,” you immediately obeyed. And you didn’t need to be told twice. “Taehyung,” you moaned, again and again, as he worked his magic into you. As he kissed you in that way no one had ever been able to replicate. “Taehyung,” as he pushed a second finger in to stretch you out. “Taehyung,” as he found your g-spot and massaged it softly as if he was working with something fragile. “Taehyung, Taehyung,” as he made you come, once, twice, thrice. With his fingers inside you, on your clit, his mouth french-kissing your pussy, his tongue dipping in and out as he lapped at your juices.

All while you had to make yourself think of who exactly was fucking you like that. Who was making your legs shake, your head spin, your sight and hearing unclear. Whose hair you were pulling, whose teeth you had marks of on your thighs, whose name you were screaming.

Kim Taehyung.

Next Chapter

#kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts #bangtan #v #fanfiction #multichapter #enemies to lover #taehyung x reade #taehyung x oc #slow burn #smut #angst #bts x reader #taehyung photographer au #victorian manor #serva me servabo te #save me and i will save you #chapter 5

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falcqns · 3 years

Text

always yours

Pairing: Seth MacFarlane x Reader

Summary: You give Seth something he didn't know he wanted.

Warnings: childbirth, fluff, insinuations to smut, csection, near death experience

A/N: I based the c section section off of what happened to my mom, although I didn't add the part of the baby (my brother) falling back inside her and almost dying as well LMAO

always yours

As you stared down at the small stick in your hand, you had no idea what to do.

You had been working as Seth’s live in personal assistant for two, almost three, years now, and you had just gotten back from visiting home for the holidays. While you were there, you went to a party your old friend group was throwing, and you ended up hooking up with your ex.

Your ex who, had told you on numerous occasions, that he didn't want kids, and if you got pregnant, he would leave you.

You knew you didn't want to tell him. He had insinuated in the past that he didn't want kids, so why should you tell him if you knew it meant you'd be painted as a bad person?

Your next thought was Seth. You knew you couldn't raise the baby here, it was Seth’s house, not yours. You may have had your own bedroom and ensuite bathroom, it was still under his roof.

You had decided to not go with him on set for the past few days as you were feeling sick, and he demanded you stay home.

‘Seth, I’m fine!’ You remember the conversation going.

He shook his head at you. ‘Y/N, you've been up all night throwing up. You look absolutely exhausted, and you can barely keep down water. You need rest,’

You let out a dramatic sigh. ‘I’m feeling better, though,’ You retorted, as you watched him lay a blanket over your shaking body on the couch.

He shook his head once more, before kneeling beside you. His hand came to rest into your hair, something he always did when you were upset or agitated.

‘No. Just rest. I’ll be fine without you for a few days, I promise love.’ He whispered, his brown eyes looking into yours.

You nodded, your eyes welling up with tears. ‘I’m sorry,’

Seth gave you a sad smile, before sitting next to you.

‘Don’t be. Everyone gets sick. You probably caught something at home or on the plane. Don’t worry about it, just relax, okay?’

You nodded, and drifted off to sleep to the feeling of him running his hands through your hair, and him humming a Frank Sinatra tune that you couldn't name at that moment.

You knew he wouldn't be mad that you were pregnant, but you also didn't know what his exact reaction would be.

You picked up your phone, and dialled his number, knowing he’d almost be done for the day. You wanted to give him a heads up so he could mentally prepare for this kind of news.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You heard Seth say in a soft voice on the other end of the phone once he answered.

“Um, a little better,” You said, in a shaky voice which you knew he’d be able to recognize instantly. He had always been able to sense your emotions well, and that was something you were grateful for.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned. “Have you gotten more sick?”

“N-no, it’s nothing like that, I just need to talk to you about something when you get home,” You said, and you felt a tear fall from your eye, before you sniffled.

“Okay. Just calm down okay? Everything is going to be fine,” He reassured you, and you heard his Tesla starting up. “I’m 20 minutes away still. Why don’t you go lay down, and I’ll come and see you when I get home?”

“O-okay,” You stuttered.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” He said in a gentle voice, which made you warm on the inside, knowing that he cares.

“Okay, bye,”

He said his goodbyes, and you made your way from your bathroom, and laid down in your bed, the small test still grasped in your hand.

You had just drifted off to sleep, when your bedroom door opened, and Seth stepped in.

He took a seat on your bed, and brushed a hand through your hair to wake you up.

You opened your eyes groggily, and gave him a small smile, before sitting up.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, giving you a comforting look.

You didn't know how to just come out and say it, so you passed the pregnancy test to him, before dragging your knees close to your chest to hide your face.

He didn't say anything, but leaned over, and wrapped his arms around you.

“Everything is going to be fine, I promise Y/N.” He whispered. You immediately started to sob.

Seth pulled you into his arms further with zero hesitation.

“I’ll look for an apartment to move into,” You whispered, and Seth pulled back in shock.

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He questioned. “Why would you look for an apartment?” You looked up at him. “This is your house, I can't expect you to allow me to raise my child here.”

Seth scoffed, and fully pulled you into his lap.

“I want you to stay. Don’t worry about moving, you're fine here,” He said. He had rested his head atop yours and began to rock you back and forth gently.

You nodded. “Thank you,”

Over the next few months as your belly grew, so did your bond with Seth. He helped you tell your parents, who were supportive. He came with you to every appointment, was there for every new milestone, and was the first person to feel your baby kick.

While your bond with him grew, so did your feelings for him. You had always had a crush on him, but you managed to keep it at a manageable level. However with your hormones, you were barely keeping it under wraps, especially now that he loved to touch your bump, and sing to the baby.

At 35 weeks, you had begun to sleep in his bed, so he could be right with you when your water broke. This didn't help with your hormones, especially because you would often wake up in the middle of the night to him singing and talking quietly to your baby.

This morning, was no different. You woke up at 6 am, to Seth saying good morning to your baby, before crawling out of bed and into the bathroom.

You got up as well, and headed down stairs to make coffee and breakfast. While you two had grown closer, you were still his assistant.

You had just made it out of the bedroom when Hank, Seth’s cat, ran up to you and rubbed his face against your swollen legs.

“Hi, Hankie baby,” You whispered to him, before continuing down the stairs, with Hank trailing not too far behind.

You had just made his coffee and placed his breakfast on the table when he entered the kitchen.

“Good morning,” He said, to which you returned. “How are you feeling?”

You smiled at him, while drinking your mug of decaf coffee. “A little tired, but I’ll be fine,” You said. He nodded.

“I’m not going to set today, I’ll just be in the office, so let me know if you need anything, okay?” He said.

You grabbed your plate and took a seat at the table. “Okay. What do you need me to do today?”

“All I need you to do is to call set design and get an estimate for the quarters,” He said. Since you had hit 35 weeks, he had been lowering your work load (not that you had a huge work load to begin with with him), and you were grateful for it.

Especially today. You sensed something was going to start happening, since Hank hadn't left you alone since you walked out of the bedroom.

You didn't want to worry Seth though, so you kept it to yourself.

“Okay, perfect, I’ll call them after breakfast.”

The two of you ate your breakfasts and Seth headed up to his office, while you headed to your bedroom.

You gave the set designers a quick call, and was about to go and let Seth know the time frame the you felt it.

A sharp cramp, running across your stomach.

It was only the first one, so you pushed it out of your mind, and continued on with your day.

A few hours later, you had already had 4 contractions, and had decided you needed to pack your hospital bag.

You did that, and continued nesting around the house, while also making sure Seth had food and water while he worked.

You were about to bring him his dinner when you felt your water breaking.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” You said to yourself, Seth’s dinner in hand.

You ran to the laundry room to grab some new pants out of the dryer. You got changed and continued to Seth’s office.

You walked in, and he was still working.

“Here’s your dinner,” You said, before another contraction hit you.

Seth immediately recognized what was happening, and pulled you into a hug, his hands running up and down your back.

“Breathe,” He whispered. Not too much longer, the contraction subsided.

“Are you in labor?” He asked, as he pulled back slightly.

You nodded, and he immediately guided you to sit in the chair he was once occupying.

“M-my water broke a few minutes ago, and I’ve gotten a few contractions today, but they haven't been consistent.” You said. He kneeled in front of you, and ran his hands on your legs gently.

“Okay.” He said, with a soothing smile on his face. He reached behind him for his phone.

“Tell me when the next one starts, okay?” He whispered, and you nodded.

A few minutes later, it hit you again. “I’m having one,”

Seth nodded and hit start on the timer before grasping your hand.

It passed, and Seth told you it lasted about a minute.

You nodded. “I think it’s time to go to the hospital,” You whimpered, tears welling up in your eyes. You felt close to having a break down, but desperately tried to hold it together.

Seth stood up, and helped you up. He noticed the fear on your face, and cupped your jaw in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You broke down.

“I-I’m terrified, Seth,” You said, and he immediately pulled you to his chest.

“You're going to be okay, Y/N. I’m not going to leave your side, I promise.” You nodded into his shoulder, and he led you out of the office. He sat you on the couch.

He called your doctor, and she advised that you go to the hospital.

“M-my hospital bag, it’s on my bed,” You whimpered out. He nodded, and ran up the stairs to grab it. You sensed that he as nervous as well, and promised yourself you’d keep him calm.

He came back down the stairs with your bag, and helped you into the car.

He kept his eyes on you while he drives, letting you grasp his hand whenever you had a contraction.

You made it to the hospital a few minutes later, and Seth helped you out and into reception.

“Hello, I’m looking for the maternity ward,” He said, his hand never leaving yours.

“Okay, it’s on the second floor,” The nurse said, as she stood up to grab you a wheelchair. You sat down, and Seth thanked her before wheeling you towards the elevators.

Soon, you were in a hospital gown, in bed, with Seth by your side.

Your doctor came in not too much later and checked you.

“Okay, Y/N, you're 8 centimetres dilated, so you're close.” She said.

“O-Okay,” You whimpered. The doctor left the room to give you and Seth some privacy.

He sat down on the bed next to you, and offered your water with a straw to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, as you took a sip. You swallowed the water and nodded.

“It hurts a lot,” You whined out, and Seth ran a hand through your hair.

“I know, sweet girl, but it’ll be over soon and you’ll have your little baby in your arms,” He whispered, and you smiled. You reached out for his hand, and he took it.

For the next hour, Seth attempted to distract you, which worked to an extent.

The doctor came back in and announced you were at 10 centimetres, and were ready to push.

Your hand grasped Seth’s even tighter. “Please, don't leave,” You begged him.

He smiled, and bent down to press a kiss to your forehead.”I'm not going anywhere, angel,”

You nodded, and he stood by your head, and held your hand.

You began to push and he encouraged you the whole time. His hand never left yours, no matter how hard you squeezed.

You had pushed for what felt like hours, when the doctors announced that you would need a c-section, because your baby’s heart rate kept dropping.

You immediately started to freak out, but Seth reassures you.

“Y/N, angel,” He said, taking your face in his hands. “Everything is going to be fine! It’s okay,”

You looked in his eyes and felt yourself instantly calm.

“Don’t leave,” You whispered, and he nodded.

“Wouldn't dream of it, angel.”

A team of nurses came in, and prepped you for surgery. The surgeon walked up to Seth.

“Are you her partner?” He asked, and Seth immediately nodded. “Yes I am.” Your heart dropped when he answered, but deep down thought it was only because you wanted him to stay with you.

The surgeon handed him some scrubs. “Here are your scrubs, and Melissa here,” He motioned to one of the nurses. “Will help you scrub up, and then you’ll meet her in the OR.”

Seth nodded, and turned to you, just before the wheeled you out of the room.

“I’ll be there really soon, okay? You’ll be okay,” He said, as he leaned down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You waved goodbye, and was wheeled away.

When you saw Seth again, you were on the operating table, and your stomach had been cut open already.

He rushed to your side, and held your hand.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a seat next to you.

You smiled weakly at him.

“I’m okay,” You said.”Thank you for everything, you're the best.”

Seth lifted his hand and placed it onto your forehead. “No, you are. You went through your pregnancy with out the father of your child. You refused to take maternity leave, and you went into labor while working for me. You have flown all over the country while pregnant, and so many more things. Now, you're sitting here, cut open like a side of beef, waiting for your little baby. You, are the best.” He whispered, his thumb tracing a line on your forehead.

A few moments later a small cry pierced the air.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” You heard the doctor announce, before you felt tears pour down your face.

She was wrapped up, and brought over to you. Your arms were strapped to the table, so you couldn't hold her, but Seth took her gently from the nurse and brought her close so you could see her and press a kiss to her small cheek.

The surgeon came up to Seth once more.

“We’re going to have you follow Nurse Melissa with the baby into her recovery room, just so we can stitch her up, okay?” Seth nodded, and turned to you, your daughter still safe in his arms.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” He said, and leaned down so you could say goodbye to your daughter.

You kissed your daughter once more, before watching Seth walk out with her.

Seth walked into the recovery room, and took a seat with her.

He gazed down at her, and noticed just how much she resembled you.

“Hey, baby girl,” He whispered. “Your mama will be here soon, okay?”

He watched as her eyes fluttered open, and gazed up at him.

Seth began to talk to her, and soon realized it had been more than an hour, and you still weren't back.

His mind began to race. Did something go wrong? If it did, who was your daughter supposed to go to? But, before he could panic too much, you were wheeled in.

“She began to haemorrhage, but we got her stabilized. She’s all stitched up, and perfectly fine. She’s on some pretty heavy sedatives though, so it’ll be a few hours before she wakes up,” The doctors explained.

The doctor continued talking, but Seth didn't absorb any of it, he was only focused on your still sleeping form.

He had almost lost you. He had almost lost the woman he loved, that he had loved since the morning after you moved in.

As he sat next to your bed, with your sleeping daughter still in his arms, he remembered that morning.

You were in the kitchen, in a One Direction concert shirt, and grey sweatpants, making his breakfast at the stove. He had seen you stood there many times before, but this time you were yourself. Not his assistant, you were Y/N. And he loved it.

Thats when he knew.

He kept switching his gaze between you and your daughter, admiring your two.

Your daughters eyes fluttered open to look at Seth again.

He smiled at her warmly.

“You know, I love your mother a lot. I’ve loved her for years, and I've never told her. I don't know why. There have been so many chances to tell her, and I never did.” A smile spread across his face as the 2 hour old baby seemed to be hanging on to his every word. “Everything used to be so blurry when it came to her, and to my feelings for her, but now you're here, it’s all so clear. I love her. Hell, you're not even mine, and I already love you like you are,”

He paused to press a kiss to her forehead before continuing.

“As soon as she wakes up, I’ll tell her,” His gaze drifted over to your sleeping form. “If she’ll let me, I’ll be the best daddy I can to you. I promise.” She had drifted back off to sleep, and Seth laid her in the bassinet.

He sat on the bed, and took your hand in his. You woke up a few moments later.

He gave you a soft smile. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

You shifted slightly and grimaced. “Sore,” Seth chuckled.

“Is my daughter okay?” Seth nodded, and pulled the bassinet closer to the bed so you could see her.

“She’s perfect. She hasn't cried at all. Such a perfect angel,”

You sniffled, feeling emotional as you looked down in admiration at your beautiful baby girl.

“She really is,” You whispered, lifting your free hand to stroke her cheek.

Seth cleared his throat, and looked at you.

“I need to tell you something,” He said, and you nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I’m in love with you. I have been for years, but I never told you, and I have no idea why. I understand if you don't feel the same, but it's been eating me up ever since I walked out of the room with her.” He glanced over at the baby once more, before looking at you apprehensively.

You just smiled, and squeezed his hand. “I love you too, Seth. So much.”

A huge smile spread across his face, and he moved closer. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, before your daughter began fussing.

Seth lifted her up, and helped her latch, before sitting back down once more.

As he looked at you feed her, a question came to mind.

“What are you going to call her?” He whispered, rubbing her forehead with his thumb.

You smiled before pressing a kiss to his lips once more.

“Violet Anne MacFarlane,” You suggested, and his face broke out into a huge smile.

“A-are you sure?” He asked, and you nodded.

“She’s always been yours. Biology can go fuck itself,” You said, and he pressed another kiss to your lips.

“Thank you,” He said, looking up at you, the woman he loves, and his daughter.

#sethmacfarlane #theorville #familyguy #fluff #pregnancy

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whenihaveyouromione · 3 years

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 35

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Chapter 35

“I’m going to miss this little place,” Ron said.

“It was a good place,” Harry agreed, using his wand to lift the final suitcase into the pile of things that needed to be sent to Nottingham. “Small, but nice. Nice and cosy, I’d imagine.”

Ron nodded, looking around at the still-furnished flat he would be leaving behind in a few short minutes. He really had liked living here — not so much for the place itself, but because of what it meant. It was the first place he and Hermione had shared together. The first place they could call their own, even if it never truly belonged to them. They didn’t even own the furniture, yet… it had felt like theirs.

He remembered the nights falling asleep with Hermione in his arms or waking up with her beside him. Or waking up to find her already up — on weekends still in her pyjamas and a pot of coffee already made; on work days, dressed and showered and nudging him to also get up lest he be late.

There had been times where they had curled up together under a blanket on the sofa, talking and laughing, sometimes getting into petty arguments about one thing or another. Sometimes their talking would become intimate, and it’d lead to kissing, sex, or just straight up romance where they would fall asleep holding hands.

The kitchen was where they cooked food — Ron learning how to cook out of necessity with Hermione’s crazy work hours.

Even the bathroom held some memories — especially the times (as rare as they were) where Hermione wasn’t in a rush and she’d let him jump in the shower with her.

Of course, he knew these things wouldn’t change in their new place, but there was something special about it being their first.

But he also knew that their new house would create so many more memories over so many more years, and he was looking forward to the rest of his life living there — with the absolute love of his life.

“I’m also keen to see what you’ve done with the new place since I saw it last, though,” Harry added.

“Not much,” Ron confessed. “It didn’t need much work. Just the protective enchantments, really. So no peeping neighbours wonder why we never have to garden, or why there is smoke in the chimney all year round.”

The biggest change they’d made in the last month of owning the house and not living in it had been purchasing all of their own furniture. They now had their own bed, their own sofas, their own table, their own kitchen appliances (which Ron was still getting the hang of). They’d gotten the keys in December, slightly before Christmas, and had spent the last six weeks preparing to move into it, all at the same time trying to enjoy their short break away from work, and spending time with family.

But everyone had volunteered to pitch in to help — Harry and Ginny helping with the packing, Hermione’s parents even making the two and a half hour drive to help them with the furniture deliveries. Molly had cooked them a week’s worth of meals so they wouldn’t have to worry about it.

And today was the day. January, and finally they were moving into their new house.

“The two of you are taking a lot of huge steps together,” Harry said after a moment, and there was an element of pride in his voice. “You’re in this for the long haul, huh?”

Ron turned to Harry, about to ask where he’d been for the past almost three years, but stopped himself when he saw Harry’s mischievous grin.

“Ha, ha, very funny.”

Harry shrugged, and then put his arm across Ron’s shoulders. “It really is great. I love you guys, you’re my family, and as much as you drive each other crazy, it’s a good kind of crazy. I swear you argue less now that you're together than you did when you weren't. You really love each other.”

“More than anything,” Ron said. Over the years, talking about his feelings to Harry had become slightly easier. In fact, talking about his feelings in general had become easier the moment he could admit them to Hermione. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d been forcing himself to keep quiet, terrified of the consequences were he to admit that his feelings for one of his best friends really crossed those boundaries of friendship.

But then she had kissed him, and his barrier had been dropped, completely punctured through. She loved him, too, and all of a sudden, he could tell her, and he could tell the world — including Harry, who really didn’t want to hear about it to begin with.

Now, Harry felt like their biggest supporter. As if he really did want them to last.

Ron laughed lightly. "You should have heard us the other day. Arguing about what sheets to get for our new bed. We couldn't agree and it took us an hour to decide. They thought we were mad, the people in the shops."

Harry also laughed and shook his head. "I'm not really surprised. You ready?"

Ron nodded. Everything was packed now. Hermione and Ginny had taken Crookshanks and their owl, Arwen, over to the new place already, along with some other things. All that was left were the suitcases filled with clothes and other little things that wouldn't fit anywhere else.

"It'll be sad to have you guys a little further away," Harry said as they both lifted their wands at the remaining stuff.

"You're only a Floo call away,” Ron said. "And we've set up Apparition boundaries too, not too far from the house — we thought it would be weird if any neighbours saw you exit the house but not come in, so that way you can at least look as if you walked."

"You moving has made me think about it a bit," Harry said.

"What, move out of Grimmauld Place?" Ron asked, not entirely surprised by that news. Harry had always said it was temporary because he’d always hated it there.

Harry shrugged. "It was never a long term arrangement. And it's already been longer than I planned. And it's huge for just me and Ginny." He hesitated a moment after that, looking uncertainly at Ron. "You'd, um, be okay if I proposed to her soon, wouldn't you?"

"What?" Ron asked.

Harry suddenly looked very uncomfortable. It had been a long, unspoken agreement that small details of Ron and Hermione's relationship were allowed to be shared, but Harry and Ginny's was taboo. Ginny may have been okay gossiping with Hermione about her brother's sex life (even though Hermione was adamant that never happened), but it was not something Ron even wanted to think about, let alone hear about.

But that wasn't even what shocked him… or annoyed him. It was the fact that for once, Ron had hoped to be the first.

"I mean… soon?" Harry said. "You'd be okay with it, right? If I asked her?"

Ron didn't say anything for a long while, his wand hanging limply in his hand.

No, let me ask Hermione first, he wanted to say. For the love of Merlin just let me have this one.

But who knew when that was going to be. With the house, and then the furniture, and then the probability of that damn car neither knew how to drive (granted, Hermione had decided to learn) he'd had to reduce his payments to fortnightly and with fewer Galleons.

"Well," he said, keeping the bitterness from his voice as best he could, "I don't really have a say, do I?"

"But you're my best mate," Harry said, "and her brother. Your opinion matters."

"I'm okay with it," Ron said. "I mean, it's not like I'm surprised anyway. You just caught me off guard."

Ron thought he'd handled that very well. He smiled, genuine. Harry mistook it as an approval smile.

"I know it weirds you out," he said.

"Not nearly as much as it used to," Ron said. "As long as we continue with the whole need-to-know basis, then it's all good. When do you plan to ask?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't actually know. It is only a recent thought I've had. Not for a while, I guess."

Ron nodded again, smiling. "Well, congrats, mate. I'm happy for you. Hermione will be too. We'll have a celebration once it's over with."

"Over with?" Harry chuckled. "You make it sound like it's some lengthy procedure you want to get out of the way."

"Well… the thought of it is kind of terrifying, isn't it? I mean… there's always a chance they'll say no. They'll change their mind even if they’ve assured you they’ll say yes. That they'll say they don't actually want to get married."

Harry didn't say anything for a long while. Suddenly, he looked mildly terrified, causing Ron to feel guilty. "Obviously, that's not going to be your case!" he added hastily. "It's just… a thought."

"I guess I never thought about that," Harry said. "I mean, she is playing Quidditch, she's rarely home… do you think she'll have time to even get married?"

"I'm sure it would be a top priority, mate."

But Harry didn't look overly convinced, and the guilt hit Ron like a slap to the face. He hadn't meant to worry Harry. He'd just been expressing his own internal fears he'd been too uncomfortable to admit to himself until now.

"Just ask her," he said after a moment. "It's not going to go badly. Trust me."

"I've never done this before," Harry said. He turned to Ron. "How do I do it? How do I ask?"

Although he’d never admit it, Ron felt rather put out that their conversation had turned to Harry talking about how he was going to ask Ginny to marry him.

"I don't know," he said after a moment. "I would have told you if I'd done it, don't you think? I can’t even afford a stupid ring, so you’re asking the wrong person.”

"Ring?” Harry asked, looking at Ron with a stunned expression. “I'm sorry, what?"

Ron went red. He hadn't meant to say that. "Nothing," he said quickly. “I mean… forget I said that.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. “You have a ring?”

“Well… no,” Ron said, realising he’d already said too much. He may as well tell Harry the whole story. "That’s the thing. I went to… get one last year. In April. I was going to ask Hermione, but the ring I wanted to get was ridiculously expensive, so I've been paying it off each week. Well, fortnight since we got the house."

"You were going to ask Hermione to marry you?" Harry asked softly, apparently now more interested in Ron's story than his own romantic plight.

"Yeah," Ron said. "I really wanted to do it right, too. But the shopkeeper won't give it to me until it's all paid off. It was supposed to be a year, so I'd have it this April, but with the house and everything, I've had to delay it a little longer. I probably won't get it until the following April at the rate it's going." He sighed again. "I was so ready to do it and everything; I'd even organised a whole romantic evening that I had to cancel because it was pointless otherwise. She was so confused. I think she realised what I was planning, and then I cancelled and… I don't know. She hasn't said anything about it. She hasn't said anything to you, has she?"

Harry shook his head, shrugging. “Not a word. You mean to say, you’ve put it off for almost a year now?”

Ron nodded.

Harry watched him for a moment. Then,“You're the biggest idiot I've ever met.”

"Thanks," Ron muttered.

"You're telling me you've been planning to marry her for almost a year, and the only thing holding you back is the fact that you decided to get her an engagement ring that is far too expensive?"

Ron shrugged.

"She doesn't care about a stupid ring, mate. I can tell you that much."

Ron shrugged again. "It was the only one that felt right. I didn’t want to just get her any old one because it was cheaper. I chose that one before I knew the price and I knew it was right for her."

Harry laughed. "You're an idiot," he said again. "But while you're being an idiot, will you at least help me come up with a plan for Ginny? Seems you have some idea on what to do, which is more than me."

"Yeah," Ron sighed. "I'll help. Just don’t tell me the intimate details, will you? One of us may as well be getting married while the other is being an idiot."

Harry shook his head, still laughing. "I wonder if Hermione realises she's moving in with the biggest prat in the world."

Ron stuck out a leg to kick Harry.

"Is that any way to treat your future brother-in-law?" Harry asked.

"Careful," Ron warned. "I might just tell you I'm not okay with it."

"And I'd have to tell you that you were right — it's not really your decision, is it?"

They grinned at each other, and Ron felt glad that his friendship with Harry had stood the test of time and many, many obstacles. And that his best friend would one day be family for real.

“We should actually get this stuff to the house,” Ron said, nodding at the pile of things they’d been tasked to transport.

Harry nodded, and together, they Vanished the stuff to what would hopefully be the new place. Hermione had shown them the spell, becoming frustrated when they hadn’t managed it first go, muttering something about them going to make useless Aurors if they couldn’t manage a simple Vanishing charm.

It felt like old times, like when they were back at Hogwarts and studying for exams. The only difference this time was rather than telling her to lay off them, Ron had pulled her towards him and kissed her. It had been the most effective measure in silencing her for the past few years.

“Ready?” Ron asked, gripping Harry’s arm. Harry nodded, and Ron spun from the living room of the flat, landing a moment later in the living room of the new place…

...to a pile of suitcases and bags which had crash landed on the brand new coffee table he and Hermione had bought, causing one of the legs to snap.

Ron grimaced at the mess, and then looked up to where Hermione and Ginny were muttering about their uselessness in moving things.

“Well, how were we supposed to know where exactly it was going to land?” Ron argued as Hermione repaired the coffee table. “We couldn’t see.”

“I managed to get the other stuff in the correct places,” Hermione retorted.

“Yes, well, we already know we aren’t as accurate with magic as you are. Rub it in, why don’t you?” Ron grumbled, shifting the bags and suitcases into the corner of the living room. “Where do these go, anyway?”

“Upstairs,” Hermione said. For a moment, Ron thought she was going to Vanish them up there herself, but when she didn’t move, Ron realised she wanted him to drag them up himself, probably as punishment for destroying their brand new table before they’d even officially moved in.

“I’ll levitate them, at least,” Ron told her, to which she only raised an eyebrow.

“A little help?” Ron said to Harry, who had been standing back slightly.

Harry nodded, and they began levitating the objects, guiding them through the doors and upstairs. “She has a point, really,” Harry said on their way up. “We should be able to do that spell.”

“She’s just stressing as Hermione stresses in situations like this,” Ron said. “Everything has to go perfectly to plan.”

They let the bags fall onto the floor of the bedroom, where all that was there was a bed — made up and looking fresh and clean, and ready to be slept in.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, nodding toward the duvet. It was a pale blue and white cover, which was one of the many small arguments they’d had about the decor of the house. Ron had not liked it, but then she had won the argument by stating she didn’t like the idea of Quidditch hoops in the garden, but she wasn’t telling him no to that.

So they had bought that one.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I get the Quidditch stuff, she gets everything else in the house, and I’m okay with that. I really want the hoops.”

Harry chuckled. “Married life, I guess.”

“Not yet,” Ron reminded him.

“As good as.”

“Yeah,” Ron said with a small smile. It was.

A moment later, Hermione and Ginny came into the room as well, laughing at the sight of Ron and Harry staring at the bed.

“You moved a few bags and you’re contemplating taking a nap, are you?” Ginny said.

“No,” Ron and Harry said together.

“We were just commenting on the duvet,” Harry added. “It’s… nice.”

“A good thing you don’t have to sleep there then, isn’t it, Harry?” Hermione said. “Ron doesn’t like it either.” She looked at Ron, amused. “Mum and Dad just got here with a few extra little things we realised were missing this morning. Is everything gone from the other place?”

“Yep, it’s just the keys to pass on now. Where’s the cat and where’s the owl?”

“Crookshanks is exploring the garden, and I told Arwen she could stretch her wings.”

They made their way back downstairs and into the kitchen where Hermione’s parents were both standing by the bench. A pile of small bits and pieces sat atop it, and a bag full of groceries.

“We thought you might need a head start,” Jane said, smiling. “So you don’t go hungry. Though, I hear Molly has you covered for that as well?”

“Mum would never let us starve,” Ron said to Hermione’s mother. He took the bag from the bench and looked at Hermione. “I may need some help with what goes in the refrigerator,” he added.

“If it’s cold, it goes in, if it’s not cold, the pantry,” Jane said.

“Thanks,” Ron said, and he began unloading the butter, some milk and eggs into the refrigerator. Arthur had spent a good thirty minutes admiring it when they’d put it in a week ago.

“Fascinating,” he had kept saying. “And, Ron, you’ll be living with elektisity. Amazing!” Much to the amusement of Hermione’s parents, who had also been there.

Ron had to remind him that Percy was also living in a house with electricity with a gentle nudge to go and bother him.

Now, Ron continued unloading the groceries. Hermione’s parents had bought some vegetables as well, which stumped Ron. Harry had to help him sort them out.

“Merlin, that’s going to take some getting used to,” Ron said. “The flat was all magic. We didn’t need one.”

“You’ll figure it out, I’m sure,” Jane said kindly.

“You’ll be fine,” Hermione added, smiling at him.

He returned her smile. Anywhere with her was home.

“Well, perhaps we should go to our hotel for the night,” Jane said after a moment. “Check in. We’ve decided to stay in Nottingham, just to see the two of you settled in. In case there’s anything else you need.”

“Thanks,” Ron said, and he didn’t just mean for the food. Ever since getting the house, they had been so busy that he’d not had a chance to really thank her parents for the help they had given for the house. “I mean… for everything, not just today. For… the house.”

Both of her parents smiled. “It is the least we can do, Ron,” her dad said. “To get the two of you set up.”

Sixteen thousand Galleons equivalent wasn’t a small thing, but Ron didn’t push the matter. He was grateful for the help, because without it, they wouldn’t be standing there right now.

“We’ll go back, too,” Ginny said. “I’ve got tomorrow off, but training starts again on Monday. We’re going out for dinner tonight, me and Harry.” She beamed. “It’s been forever.”

“Enjoy,” Hermione said. “Maybe try the Floo back to your place. Make sure it works. It was a hell of a lot of paperwork to get it connected, so you may as well use it.”

“Will do,” Ginny said, grinning at them. “Enjoy your first night in your new place. Try not to break any more furniture.” She turned to Hermione’s parents then, and added quickly, “I do mean literally. Ron broke the coffee table earlier.” She looked back at Ron and Hermione. “We’ll drop by again tomorrow. See you.”

The four of them left after that, Harry and Ginny Flooing back to Grimmauld Place, while Hermione’s parents drove back down the driveway toward the city of Nottingham where they were staying.

Ron threw his arm around Hermione’s shoulder as the car disappeared down the road and they closed the door behind them.

“Tomorrow we give the key back, and then this place is truly ours,” he said. “Just you and me.”

“How do we spend our first night in our new place?” Hermione asked.

…

It was nearing ten o’clock at night, and just as Ron had imagined all those weeks ago, they sat on the sofa, curled up together with a blanket thrown over them. It wasn’t even that cold, but it was comforting and the romantic in Ron had insisted.

“This is nice,” Hermione said, and her voice sounded faraway, as if she was almost asleep.

Ron drew her closer towards him, his thoughts wandering into something resembling pure bliss, only interrupted a few moments later by an intrusive memory that he’d brushed aside until now.

“Apparently I am helping Harry figure out a way to ask Ginny to marry him.”

“What?” Hermione lifted her head off Ron’s shoulder and sat up. “Since when?”

“Since this morning, apparently,” Ron said with a shrug. “He asked me if I’d be okay with it, which… well, yeah, I am. Then he asked me if I could help him do it. I mean, I assume he meant helping him find a way to ask her that doesn’t seem ridiculous and cheesy.”

“That’s great news!” Hermione said, and she sounded genuinely thrilled. If there was any thought in her mind about when she’d be getting engaged, she hid it very well. “Oh, I’m so happy for them. Do you know when he’s planning it?”

“No,” Ron said. “You know Harry — if it’s something that involves even a small plan, then he prefers to dive right in, head first.”

“Ginny did say they were going to dinner tonight…” Hermione began.

“Yeah, but he asked me for help,” Ron said. “And I haven’t given him the slightest bit of help.” He thought back to earlier that day, and Harry’s amusement over the whole ring situation. “Except, I guess, what not to do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked.

“Nothing.” Ron shook his head. “Just something that happened while we were packing up the stuff at the flat. You think Ginny will say yes?”

“Certain of it,” Hermione said. “Though, with the Quidditch season starting up again soon, I can’t imagine when they’ll find the time to get married. They’ll have to squeeze it in between a game, I guess. And that all depends on whether the game has actually finished before the next one is due to start.”

Ron laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Hermione asked.

“Well, I’d hope — and correct me if I’m wrong if I’m assuming too much — that Ginny would actually consider missing a game or two for her own wedding.”

Hermione flushed, and it was obvious that the thought hadn’t actually occurred to her. “I… I suppose you’re right.”

Ron watched her for a moment. Now he knew she definitely was thinking about their own potential wedding. She had an air of guilt about her.

“If you and Harry find you’re struggling, I can offer some suggestions, too,” Hermione said after a moment. “I do think, considering it’s Harry and Ginny, something simple. Or something Quidditch related.”

“Maybe at a Quidditch game?” Ron suggested.

“Harry wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself like that,” Hermione argued.

“Good point.”

“A dinner is a little cliche, but nice and simple, and if it’s in the house, then there’s no one else around.”

“Wouldn’t that be boring, though?” Ron asked.

“I think it’s romantic,” Hermione said. “I think it would be nice for them to become engaged just at home, no one else around…”

Ron smiled at her.

Hermione flushed a little, and added quickly, “But I mean, if, um, Harry doesn’t want to do it that way then there’s other options. Start by asking him, I guess. You’re good at that kind of thing, Ron. Better than he is. I’m sure you’ll think of something. It’s so exciting for them!”

Ron’s smile widened. “I love you,” he said.

She responded by kissing him.

…

There was a cool breeze floating through the window the following morning. Ron shivered. What was it doing open in January? It was far too cold for such a thing.

And then he remembered.

Their first night together in their new place had become heated, especially when they’d decided to come to bed. They’d needed to open the window after a bit, just to cool themselves down.

And now it didn’t help in the morning that he’d fallen asleep without any clothes and the blankets were tossed down around his waist.

He groaned and rolled over, drawing them back up to under his chin. “Morning,” he said groggily, reaching out an arm to place around Hermione. She didn’t respond, but he could feel that beneath the blankets she also had forgotten to get dressed. He snuggled into her, partly for warmth and partly because he was still very much remembering how he had fallen asleep and wanted to be as close to her as possible.

Her even, gentle breathing lulled him back into a sleep. He didn’t know for how long, but he was woken again by Hermione shifting against him. She rolled over and before he could even open his eyes, her lips were on his again.

“Good morning,” she whispered, snuggling into him. Her skin was so warm and soft against his.

He grinned, still through closed eyes. “Very good morning,” he said, moving his arm under the blankets and drawing her closer towards him. “You’re so warm,” he added, suppressing a shiver. “Dumb idea, leaving that open all night.”

“I was going to close it, but then I fell asleep,” Hermione said, keeping her voice low.

Ron drew her even closer to him, sinking lower under the blankets. A moment later Hermione pulled away. His eyes sprung open as she reached for her wand, pointed it at the open window and then snuggled back in under the covers.

“We don’t have to get up today, do we?” Ron asked.

“I’m okay to stay here,” Hermione agreed, and she kissed him again.

And they would have gladly stayed in bed all day, enjoying their new house (and each other’s company), but at some point (Ron didn’t know and didn’t care what the time was) there was an annoying disruption.

A rush of flames, and then a shout that sounded a lot like Ginny’s from the bottom of the stairs. “You two up there?”

“Great idea linking the fireplaces,” Ron groaned, pulling away from Hermione unwillingly. “Your best idea yet.”

Hermione, also looking rather annoyed at the interruption, sat up in the bed in a very flustered state. “I don’t think we’re in any state to go down just yet,” she said.

Ron definitely wasn’t, so they laid back down, Hermione flicking her wand to open the window again.

“I doubt they’re sleeping,” Ron heard Ginny say, probably to Harry. “It’s midday. Honestly.”

And then there was silence, with any luck the two deciding to go back home. Though, Ron knew that was wishful thinking.

“I suppose we should get up,” Hermione said after a while, once the cold air began to become a nuisance again, and not a relief.

“Annoying little sisters,” Ron grumbled as they both sat up and attempted to find something to dress into. Nothing had been unpacked yet, and by the time Ron had found a shirt and a pair of jeans to throw on, Hermione was opening the door in her pyjamas that she definitely had not worn last night.

Harry and Ginny were waiting in the kitchen, both with a mug of hot tea in front of them.

“Sorry, should have sent word when we were coming over,” Ginny said, and to Ron’s surprise, she actually looked a little embarrassed.

“Yeah,” Ron replied, unable to contain his annoyance at their unwelcome intrusion. “Also should have used your brain.”

Hermione gave him a whack across the chest.

“Ow.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione said, accepting an offer of tea that Harry had just poured. “We were just about to get up.”

That was so far from the truth that no one believed her, but no one said anything.

“So, how’s the place?” Harry asked. “You’ve settled in alright?”

“Yep,” Ron said. “There’s a lot more space than we’re used to, but that’s alright. We’ll get used to it, I’m sure. It already kind of feels like home.”

“I’m glad,” Ginny said with a smile.

They moved into idle chat after that, Harry and Ginny talking about their date night, and then moving onto work, and the new Quidditch season. It wasn’t until Hermione jumped up from her seat and said, “Harry, can I see you in the next room?” that the conversation died.

“Is that some secret work business going on in there?” Ginny asked.

“I dunno, maybe,” Ron said, though he had a feeling that Hermione was sharing all her sudden ideas about how to propose to Ginny in the next room. He repressed a sigh.

“Harry told me what you said to him yesterday,” Ginny said after a moment. “About the ring. You’re an idiot.”

Ron glared at her.

“I’m serious,” Ginny continued. “You. Are. So. Stupid.”

“I’m not getting into this discussion with you,” Ron said. “It’s too late now, anyway. I can’t back out, and I don’t want to.”

Ginny stared at him for a moment, then shook her head again, stating, “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s what George told me when I told him what I did.”

“Yeah, well, he’s right, too.”

Ron couldn’t say anything, for Harry and Hermione returned, Harry looking rather overwhelmed.

“We should head back,” Ginny said. “I have to be back in Holyhead at seven in the morning tomorrow.”

“Good luck for this year,” Hermione said. “We’ll try to get to some games to see you play.”

Ginny smiled, giving Hermione and Ron a hug each. “Thanks. We have a pretty strong team. I’m just glad to be playing this year at all.”

“You deserve it,” Hermione said.

“Thanks. See you guys, and enjoy the rest of your afternoon. We’ll remember to Apparate next time, or send word first. Sorry.”

Once they had gone, Hermione turned straight to Ron and said, “You need to help Harry. He’s clueless.” And she took another sip of the freshly brewed tea.

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

Detectives By Chance: Ch-6 Unforeseen

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? I took a nice break to get a grip on myself and it really worked wonders. So sorry for taking such a long time to get this out. I hope this will be worth the wait!💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: 1890

Triggers: Mentions of murder

Rating: General

I am participating in this week’s @wackydrabbles. The prompt for this week is “I meant every word.” and it will appear in bold.

CATCH UP HERE!

Sometimes Destiny, has a strange sense of humour,

When we think it is the end, it is usually just the beginning.

The four had just fallen asleep when sudden banging of the door woke them up.

Ethan woke up abruptly. He saw how peacefully Pooja was sleeping.

Ethan didn't want to wake her up.

He got out of the bed and took a look at the clock.

7 in the morning.

It was pretty late as compared to his usual waking time. But after everything they did last night, they were tired as hell and hence it felt like they had slept not 4 hrs but 40 minutes.

Yawning, he got to the door and was very, very, taken aback.

Standing by the door, was the Police.

"Officers, How may I help you?" Ethan inquired in a very professional tone.

"Dr Ramsey. Sorry to disturb you at such an early hour. We wanted some information." The police officer standing at the front informed.

Ethan let out a heavy sigh but knew better than to argue with them. So he acknowledged, "Please come in. People around will be concerned if they see the Police standing at my doorstep." He stepped aside to let them in.

By the time, Mark, Alex and Pooja had also waken up due to the sounds and came out of their rooms. All three were surprised to see the Police.

The officers too, stopped short on seeing them. Their gazes stopped on Mark and Alex.

"Look who we have here." One of the officers implied to the other, pointing at Mark and Alex.

"Seems like our work here has become a lot easier."

"Excuse me, Officer, what exactly are you talking about? You stated you wanted information." Ethan said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, we wanted information about the whereabouts of Dr Danvers and Dr Walton." The way the Officer emphasized whereabouts was enough for them to know that something was wrong.

"Officers, we are here. Tell us what you wanna know." Mark spoke before Ethan could say anything.

"Sure, Dr. Danvers. You have an awful amount of confidence for a criminal." The Officer scoffed.

This time it was Pooja who spoke. "Wait! What? No, No what? CRIMINALS?"

"Of course, Dr Sharma. Not just mere criminals, these two are Cold Blooded Murderers." The police officer grumbled.

"Officer, I am sure there has been some misunderstanding. They both were with us all the time. Lex, er, Dr Walton and me, we discovered the body together." Pooja tried to intervene.

"Oh yes, Dr. Sharma? Then how on Earth did the original key of the patient's room get into the office of MARK DANVERS?" The man shouted the last words.

"WHAT! How is that even possible? I didn't even know the real key of the room was missing until the body was discovered!" Mark replied in his defence.

"Save it, Dr. Danvers, Save it. Tell all you want to tell in the court. Besides, that is not the only proof we have. We have asked your neighbours about your whereabouts on the night of the murder. Some of them say you two returning late at night, and as per their description, that is just after the time of the murder.”

“Also, while scanning Mr Davis's room, your fingerprints and a piece of paper with both of your names was found. When we questioned his colleagues, it was revealed to be his handwriting. He wrote in that way in a hurry. So, I guess that enough proof for us to arrest you two." The Police laid all the information in front of them.

"All this is BULLSHIT. We did not do anything like that. All this is a lie." Alex was on the verge of a breakdown.

She made a motion to grab one of the officers' collar when Pooja grabbed her and stopped her from doing anything that would make matters worse.

"No Lex, you won't. Don't make matters worse, I beg you." Hearing Pooja's plea, Alex calmed down.

"Dr Mark Danvers, Dr Alexandra Walton, you both are under arrest. Kindly follow us." The police officer said in an almost ruthless voice.

Alex was about to intervene, but Mark grabbed her hand.

Ethan laid a hand on Mark's shoulder and assured, "We promise we will get you both out before they can present you before the court. We promise."

Mark turned around, gave him and Pooja a one-armed hug. Alex too, hugged the both of them, and then the two went away, holding hands all the time.

After the Police had left, Ethan and Pooja sat down on the couch. Never had they imagined that this would be the beginning of their morning.

"How the freaking hell did this happen? They are innocent, we know they didn't do anything." Pooja was breaking down again.

"Yes, we know. And now we have to prove it. We need to find evidence that can free Mark and Alex up. Something which can prove their innocence. We need to check Miles Danvers's private clinic. That is our only hope." Ethan answered.

The two of them hurriedly got dressed and set off to the second address.

The address they had never checked.

It took a good 35 minutes took 3147, Rainy Day Drive. The day was cloudy and grey, and the street looked gloomy but less terrifying as compared to last night.

Ethan let out a dry laugh and said, "One rainy day brings us to Rainy day drive." They looked around to locate the clinic. But where they arrived appeared so broken and messy that it was obvious that it had been through a lot.

Taking a look at the status of the place, and thought of Pooja's condition.

"Rookie," Ethan said.

"Hmm?"

"I am going in there."

"Of course. I am going in too. Wasn't that why we came here?" Pooja questioned, surprised why Ethan was stating the obvious.

"No, I said I am going in, not we, Poo."

"What the hell do you mean by that? You are trying to say that you are going to that place alone? Is this really the time to play jokes, E?" Pooja charged, angry and worried.

"I am not kidding, Poo. I meant every word."

He cupped her cheeks.

"Rookie, please try to understand, okay? My priority is and will always be you. I can't let you get hurt in any way. I will go there first and check if everything is alright. If all is clear, I will send you a text. Then you can come in." Ethan tried to explain.

"And if everything is not clear?"

"Then I will search alone and keep you updated if I find anything."

"You mean that I should leave you alone in the fire?"

"Poo, I am just going to check. This place is so old, I don't think there will be any trouble in there. But I promised that I would protect you at any cost. See it just as me keeping my promise."

"But what if-"

"No, what-ifs. I am going. I will check and update you soon. Promise me you won't go in until I tell you too."

"But Et-"

"Promise?"

"Ethan, List-"

"Promise?"

"Fine, Promise. But in case you see any trouble, text me at that moment. I will come running."

"Promise, Rookie, Promise."

Before Pooja could say anything else, Ethan had already walked into the dilapidated building. So she had nothing else to do other than wait.

While waiting, Pooja tried to arrange all the information they had in her mind. She started surfing the web to know more about Mr Davis and the 2011 scam he had supposedly conducted. About 100 people had lost tons of money in that scam, and it was pointed out that since 2011, Mr Davis started living a rich life. He said it was from his inheritance of his dead uncle and a promotion, but now, it was obvious that it was all the money from the scam.

What a criminal! Only if he had got caught, maybe then all the hassle, worries and pain that entered their life without as much as a precaution, could have been avoided, Pooja grunted. Her heart grieved on remembering Mark and Alex. "They don't deserve this.", she thought.

She checked her phone and, Oh dear! Thirty minutes had passed by, but there was neither any text nor any sign of Ethan. She was worried sick. But she had promised, and Pooja had been known for keeping her promises. When she promised something, she always fulfilled it, no matter what.

Suddenly her phone lighted up with a 'Ping!' making her aware of a new notification. She saw Ethan's name light up on her screen, and without even glancing at the text he had sent, she rushed into the ruptured clinic.

Once inside, she looked around. The place was dark, had a look of a horror house and smelt sickening. Pooja turned on the flashlight of her phone and began to look around. She sensed something was eerie. She presumed that the moment she would walk in, she would see Ethan.

But the place was soundless. Her heart thumped with panic.

"Ethan! Ethan! Ethan, can you hear me? Ethan, please reply I-I am scared. ETHAN!" Pooja screeched but met with silence. Dismay and agony made her feel weak. She sat down on her knees and began weeping.

"Now is not the time to breakdown." Pooja thought to herself and urged her body to stand up.

"Keep calm, Keep calm for Ethan." She reiterated the words in her mind like a prayer holding her up.

Suddenly, she recollected that she never checked the text Ethan sent. She opened Ethan's text, but it did not read "All clear".

It read, "MiD To."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? MiD, MiD, MiD..." Pooja thought harder and harder, overlooking everything, only focusing on the letters M.i.D.

"MiD, MiD... Oh, hell!" It struck her like lightning. "MiD is M-Miles Danvers. Oh my god!"

Suddenly, the sound of her phone ringing jolted her out of her thought process and spread an alarm through her body. She hoped, desperately for it to be Ethan.

But she saw that it was an unknown number. Her first thought was to ignore it, but then she wondered, "What if, what if it is Ethan? Trying to reach her and tell her where he was?"

She acknowledged the call. "Hello?"

"Ahh!!" A hoarse voice uttered from the other end. "Dr Sharma, is it?"

"Who the hell are you? I don't have time for any of your shit." Pooja fumed.

"But you surely have time for Dr Ramsey, don't you?" The man implied with cruel amusement in his voice.

"What the-? How the hell-? Wait, are- are you Miles Danvers?"

The man let out a menacing chortle, more like a crackle of a witch. "Oh, yes! I am. And don't worry! Your dearest boyfriend is here, in my utmost care, and under my most watchful eye."

The humour in his voice went away, and a nerve chilling sinister voice revealed, "If you want to save him and your dearest best friends, come to the address I am sending you as soon as possible. Don't you dare ignore this call. Well, unless you want them to rot and die. Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha."

PS: If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day ahead!

Tags (Please let me know if you like to be added or removed) :@bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @arnikki-2406 @neotericthemis @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight

18 notes · View notes

strawbrrysun287 · 3 years

Text

Office Chaos #1

Hi everyone!! Recently I got into writing again and decided to cross post on here and AO3! If you take the chance to read it I hope you enjoy it <3 This will be part of a series of one shots! Happy Reading <3<3<3

If there was one thing Seokjin could safely say, it was that he was a confident gay. He would always throw a wink or a kiss to baristas, those who held the door open for him, or just anyone within the distance of him if he was feeling particularly playful.

That being said he was also openly gay. In no way shape or form was he afraid or worried about showing the person he truly was. Be it soft pink off-the-shoulder sweaters, a pair of heeled boots that made his bum look like it was carved by the gods (fun fact: it was), or even a black shirt with pastel lettering literally saying (I’m Gay, Suck It).

This was amazing for his social and love life because there was no confusion platonically or sexually. However, a certain middle-aged squat ugly fuckwad who was too dense to realize sooner Seokjin’s sexuality despite all the signs decided to fire him solely for Seokjin giving a customer, a fellow gay, his number.

In his defense, the customer was cute, was hitting on him, and was even interested and gave his own number to Seokjin as well. So all in all, who could blame Seokjin? He was young, horny, and single.

But back to the original issue. He was fired for being himself which led him to where he is now. Walking down the busy streets of Seoul heading to some gaming design company for an interview as a personal assistant to the CEO. It was a major jump from a barista to PA but he had experience… in high school, he was student council president, led three clubs, and even fixed their student budget so that way they could throw a fun concert/overnight party for the graduates.. Okay, maybe that one was a little selfish. It was still experience though! College didn’t exactly go as planned but he still was involved in the radio station and another club… although he couldn’t for the life of him remember what the club was about.

As he arrived in front of the building he could feel his heart beating against his rib cage just the tiniest bit more. He was confident though, he could do this. It would be a breeze. Throw a wink or kiss at whoever was interviewing him, talk about his experience, talk up himself and his abilities, then leave with the job and start the following Monday.

Walking inside of the building left him just the slightest breathless. Fuck. Who designed this building? Who PAID for the building? Or the interior decorating? As he tried calculating it in his head he vaguely heard someone clearing their throat but didn’t pay it any attention. After a few more minutes he finally snapped out of his calculations when the throat-clearing wouldn’t stop. He was two seconds from shoving a glass of water down the person’s throat only to look around and realize the throat-clearing had been directed at him.

With a guilty smile flashed towards the main receptionist, Seokjin finally made his way up to the desk gripping the strap of his bag even tighter.

“Kim Seokjin? I’m here for an interview with a Mr. Kim? For his personal assistant?” Despite the flash of nervousness when he was caught staring into space he quickly put the confident smile back on. The receptionist seemed less than pleased though.

“Elevator down the hall to the right. Floor 35. Park Jimin will help you from there. Try not to stare off into space again, yes?” With a sinister smirk, the lady lifted her hand just to point down the hallway and Seokjin took that as a dismissal which is exactly what it was. It didn’t stop him from mumbling down the hallway the whole time though.

“Honestly? With that kind of attitude, it’s amazing someone hasn’t dumped their coffee over her by… accident... “ Once inside the elevator he hit the button for the 35th floor and listened to the boring music as the numbers flashed above the elevator doors showing what floor it just passed. Once the doors opened for the 35th floor he took a deep breath and stepped out.

Immediately he noticed an adorable guy, younger than him with bubblegum pink hair and the cutest smile when his eyes crinkled. Okay, maybe this place wasn’t all bad. That was until he heard a deep voice shouting, seemingly the pink-haired man’s name if the way his head snapped over was any indication, and then there was a body colliding with his sending him straight to the floor with the other man on top of him.

“Kim Taehyung!! You need to watch where you are going!!” Pink-haired guy’s voice rang out. Seokjin wouldn’t be surprised if the entire floor didn’t hear the shrill yell. Which seemed plausible as there were four other heads that poked out from different rooms like little peeping parrots. Well, this was turning out to be quite the impression to leave on the people he would hopefully soon be working with.

“Sorry, Jiminie! But!! We got the house! I just got the email and we can close on the house today but we have to be there within the next hour!”

“Taehyung I swear on Yoongi’s new laptop th-”

“Don’t be swearing on my things Park Jimin! I will skin you alive!!” A voice seemingly coming from nowhere yelled in offense.

“... that you better be telling the truth or else I will make you sleep our on the balcony for the rest of the week.”

“It’s real. Like really real. The realest real you can really real kind of real! But we have to GO. NOW!”

“Okay okay! Fuck. I gu-.. Oh… Hello there. I uh… kinda forgot you got thrown to the ground in the process. I hope you aren’t injured? No injuries right? Taehyung can’t afford to be sued we are closing on a house today. Uh… if I make Namjoon Hyung give you the job would you be willing to forget this entire mess? He still owes me because of that ridiculous picture I took of him a few weeks ago when he decided to get shit-faced.”

It was official. Seokjin clearly hit his head too hard on the floor and now he was in some kind of dream drama. Shouldn’t the drama involve some super hot guy? A best friend who has his own issues but they support each other no matter what? What about the chaotic couple who he questions how they are still alive? Well… he might have found the chaotic couple. But that didn’t mean anything else. Once he realized he was being spoken to he had to blink a couple of times in order to clear his head and only vaguely caught the end.

“You… you would force your boss to give me the job just so I don’t sue the guy who knocked my ass to the ground? What if I tell you I wasn’t planning on suing him anyway? Although it did kind of hurt but if you could still get your boss to give me the job that would be fantastic and I would kiss the floor you walk on because this job is desperately needed and I’m too handsome to be walking from building to building begging for a job.”

Finally getting up from the ground he rubbed the back of his head where it hit the floor before fixing the wrinkles in his shirt. As he finished getting straightened (HA) out again another deep voice that was almost addicting echoed from down the hall along with heavy footsteps and deep down Seokjin just KNEW that the person coming towards him was the big boss. AKA the one who would hopefully be signing his checks if he got the job. Before he could utter a single word bubblegum hair spoke up again.

“Namjoon Hyung! This is Kim Seokjin, your new personal assistant. Long story short, Me and Tae got the house but in his excitement he kind of barreled into your new assistant here and sent him hurtling towards the floor, and because I’m a good honest person I told him I would assure him the job.”

Namjoon stared at bubblegum hair, Jimin?? In what seemed like absolute boredom like this was a daily occurrence. Well then again, it might be. Things were already more than a little chaotic but chaos is where Jin thrived.

“Jimin. You can’t just give people jobs because Taehyung knocked them down. You have so far given away a car, an apartment, a date, a fashion shopping spree, and part of your investment in the company which I was thankfully able to get back all because Tae didn’t watch where he was going. You know, apologizing in a HEARTFELT way will do the job nine out of ten times.”

“Okay you may speak some facts but I already gave the job to Seokjin and I already read over his resume. He seems like he can tolerate you well enough and you need an assistant to start ASAP because Tae and I have to go sign for the house okay hyung? Make sure you show him the ropes and don’t fuck it up! Bye!!”

With that Seokjin and Namjoon stared as Jimin dragged Taehyung along into the elevator with a cheeky smile and flirty wave before the elevator doors closed on the image that left the pair sputtering.

“Well… I guess they won’t be back till tomorrow afternoon. At least all my morning meetings are finished so I shouldn’t have to worry too much. Ah. Kim Seokjin-sii I apologize for the uh..”

“Chaos?” Jin supplied with a cheeky grin of his own.

“I suppose that is the best possible term for what happens on the 35th floor. Since Jimin already gave you the job I am in no way able to deny it and if I’m being honest I am in desperate need of an assistant as all my paperwork is piling up and I’m not sure where the mailroom is or where the place I normally get coffee from is and the coffee here is made by my director of media and he makes it as black as his soul is what he says at least and no amount of sugar makes it any better.”

And that’s when it happened. When Jin went from being the confident flirty gay to the shy flustered panicked gay that he always read about in stories. Namjoon smiled and he had dimples. Fucking dimples. There was no way the man standing in front of him was real. Tall, handsome, successful, understanding, kind, big hands, muscled if the fabric fighting for its life stretched over Namjoon’s biceps and thighs were anything to go by, and he had fucking D I M P L E S. Who did this Kim Namjoon think he was? God? Actually, that may be true. It wasn’t until he realized he was about to suffocate did Seokjin exhale the air he was holding in before stuttering out a hasty reply.

“Assistant? Now? Like now now? Me? For you? Coffee? I’m good with coffee and with paperwork. Yeah. I can 100% do that for you, Mr. Kim. And there is no need for formalities you can just simply call me Jin as I will be working closely with you. With you. Closely. Working. Yeah. Now?”

Seokjin knew the second the last syllable left his mouth that he was an idiot. A certified idiot who shouldn’t be allowed to be the personal assistant for a business of Namjoon’s caliber but like hell, he was going to give up the opportunity to get to know the taller man and completely wow him. Fuck was he even gay? It didn’t even matter. He could figure that out later down the line but first…

“Just tell me where to sign Mr. Kim and we can begin our new… partnership as boss and assistant. I promise I’ll do everything to learn the ropes quickly to help make your life a little less hectic.”

“Namjoon is just fine Jin. Even though I’m your boss I like to keep a close relationship with those who work close with me. You will find everyone on this floor is on a first name basis and the chaos is real and alive everyday.” And there were those fucking dimples again.

Maybe Seokjin needed to send a gift basket to his homophobic ex-boss because this new adventure at Kim. Co was going to be fun.

Chaos and all.

#namjin vmin bts btschaos chaos btsfanfic fanfiction yoonkook ceokimnamjoon assistantkimseokjin

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grumpigremlin · 3 years

Text

College Blues - Chapter 2

Here it is. Grammar checked 4 times but probably still hiding some errors <3 This chapter turned out longer than the first, so I’m glad.

Themes: Tired Student Vibes - Uni is hard ok? - Angst - Family

Synopsis: With only 3 months left of their first year attending University, Danny and Sam decided to take a trip back down to Amity Park to visit family for a week to take the edge off. It soon becomes clear that visiting home was something Danny desperately needed.

Word Count: 1482

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06:00 << Guess who brought a load of snacks for the trip 🍫🍿 >>

06:15 << Remember the train leaves at eight >>

06:30 << U alive? And if u reply with no I swear… 😂 >>

07:30 << Danny? >>

Sam sat there, thinking of what to type next. She didn’t like to pester but considering Danny hadn’t even looked at his phone for this long, giving him another poke seemed more than reasonable. Sam knew how assertive she could be towards both Danny and Tucker at times. It was normal for both of them to leave things until the last minute. But after checking in with Tucker to see if he’d received any replies, Sam was half-tempted to head round to Danny’s dorm and spam the buzzer until he responded. No, that’s too far. They weren’t kids anymore. She should’ve tried to call him instead. Why didn’t she think to do that earlier? Ping. A new message.

07:35 << Sorry, yeah dw im on my way >>

Typical, she thought. It was a little rude that Danny didn’t even think to give a reply sooner than 25 minutes before their train was due to arrive. At the thought of this, Sam began jabbing at her phone, crafting he perfect response to convey her annoyance. What happened next caught her completely off guard. It was silent, but the action of Danny swiftly phasing through the wall behind her was enough to cause Sam to jump up from the bench.

“Shit Danny, do you even use doors anymore?”

“Sorry I was… I was in a bit of a rush. Didn’t have time to, you know, take the long way here.”

Furrowing her brows, Sam opened her mouth, ready to lecture Danny that if he had only gotten up earlier then he wouldn’t need to rush. But she paused, taking in her friend’s face. Danny looked… awful. His normally brightly lit blue eyes were dull with fatigue. It was almost as if he had just rolled out of bed. Considering the chances of a late-night ghost encounter, she chose to let it slide.

“You look...” She begun.

“-Like crap? Yeah I know.” He’d moved to slide off his backpack and sit down on the bench. “Was it a ghost? You could’ve woken me up you know. I don’t mind.” He shook his head, slumping forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. “No, just got distracted with other things.” Probably playing the new video game that he and Tucker had been raving about for the past week, Sam had figured. Now that Danny had eventually turned up, they had around 20 minutes to spare. After grabbing some coffees from the platform over, they returned to the bench and continued conversation. As they spoke, Sam continued to take in the state of her friend. His hair was slightly unkempt, and she was surprised to see that he had only brought a small singular backpack along. Though this made sense due to how much time he had given himself to pack. “I really am sorry by the way, I completely lost track of the clock.” He repeated for what must have been the third time. Finishing what was left of her drink, Sam gave a small laugh and looked back up. “Nah it’s fine. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t lose track this often, right? I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Debatable.” He smirked. She practically walked into that one. Ghost jokes were their only source of humour at this point, and the boys would take any chance they got to use them. After a few more minutes of back and forth banter the train finally arrived and the journey commenced. Amity park was a good two hours and thirty minutes away. This made food a must, and as promised, Sam had brought a selection of treats for them both to snack on. “Oh, I actually already ate.” Danny shrugged sheepishly looking down at the pile of treats that had been laid out between them. “But you said you didn’t have time to get anything this morning?” Did he say that? He played back their previous conversation from the platform. He must have done because Sam was right. He took a second to think of an appropriate response “Oh, I meant that I had something on the way over. Good thing I had time, right?”

Things were not adding up at this point. Sam wasn’t stupid and she could tell when she was being lied to. But what he was lying about was still unclear. Was it that he disliked what she had brought? No, that couldn’t be it. Sam had made sure to include things that he liked as well as the usual vegan variations for herself. Maybe he felt unwell? She looked over at Danny, who was gently resting against the train’s window, staring unfocused at the passing scenery. He didn’t look much better than he had around 10 minutes ago. Danny never really liked to let his guard down, especially since being outed as Phantom. While this made sense, it irked Sam when Danny refused to come forward about anything. “Hey, you alright? We could crack open the window if you want.” She motioned, giving him a light nudge. Jolted back into reality, Danny wearily lifted his head. “Huh? Yeah that’d be nice. Could do with some fresh air in here.” That was good, she hadn’t expected him to comply so easily. Getting up, Sam reached overhead and pushed the window latch open. “What do you think is up? Could it be your ice core?”

Danny shook his head. “I doubt it. I haven’t had issues with my ice core in years now. It’s probably just a lack of sleep. It’ll be fine.” There it was. It was this kind of dismissiveness that became so irritating to put up with. It made Sam want to retort back in defiance, but that wouldn’t be fair. It was best to assert herself without causing any more stress than there likely already was. But what else would work other than to push a little further? “Come on, at least drink some water.” She’d insist, offering him one of the many water-bottles she brought. After slight hesitation, Danny accepted the bottle and moved away from the window. He didn’t drink much from it, but it was something.

While most of the snacks remained untouched, the rest of the journey was well spent as the two continued to reminisce over the new ghosts they encountered over the course of the year, and how less manageable they were compared to the ghosts of Amity, which was saying a lot. They discussed what they would do once they got back. While meeting with Tucker at the Nasty Burger was on the agenda for tomorrow, today would be spent settling into their homes and catching up with family. When Danny had notified Jazz that he would be visiting for the week, she was more than happy to travel back down herself. While small, the Fenton family were close. To their parents, it wouldn’t feel the same if only one of them visited at a time. With this in mind, Jazz had insisted that her little brother mention if he were to come down so they could plan accordingly. Familiar buildings could now be seen through the window, indicating that they had reached Amity Park. The two gathered their bags and prepared to leave the train.

“Let me know when you touch base.” Sam said, giving him a quick hug as her parents pulled over to the side of the road. Danny gave an affirmative nod, returning the hug and stepping back. The two waved to each other as the vehicle turned a corner and out of sight. Now it was just him. Five minutes or so had gone by when the phone in his pocket began to buzz. Once again being brought back into the land of the living, Danny hastily grabbed the phone and slid it right to answer. “Hello?”

“Danny-o! Just calling to let you know we’re almost there! Did you arrive safely?” The screeching of car tyres through the other end of the phone were grating to listen to. “Uh, y-yeah, Dad. I’m waiting outside…” The blaring of a passing car horn caused Danny to move the phone away from his ear. “Remember to watch the road, Jack.” Maddie chimed in from the passenger seat. They were definitely close, as the same sound of the car horn was heard from a few blocks down. As if on cue, the all too familiar Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle slide into view. It was a miracle that the tires were able to withstand the backlash as the vehicle came to a sudden halt. Rolling down the window, Jack beamed at his son.

“There he is. Our favourite ghost boy!”

#Phiccs #Danny Phantom #Sam Manson #Danny Fenton #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #Hhhhhcollegesucks #Fanfiction #Fenton Family

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shyrose57 · 3 years

Note

Brothers anon back with a worked out timeline! And Misstressoffandoms sorry im responding so late! I completely missed your reply. Thats what I ended up doing but im hoping to eventually be able to completely copy those eailer asks and put them on my notes app.

When this gets a major update I'll resend if you want me too.

CURRENT AGES! (When they left Subbin)

Ran-19

Ranbob-26 (Previously 28 but decided to change it a bit, decided I didn't like the 9 year age difference between the brothers)

Watson-33 (Previously 35 but decided to change it a bit)

Jackie-16

Grievous-22

Benjamin-30

Cletus-24

Charles-25 (Previously 27 but decided to change it)

Isaac-29

CURRENT TIME LINE! (THIS IS NOT INDEPTH AND IS INSTEAD INTENDED TO GIVE A BRIEF SUMMARY OF EVERYTHING, DETAILS MAY BE CHANGED DEPENDING ON WHATS ADDED)

-Dream gets control of Ranbob and uses him to basically commit genocide in Mizu, Ran barely escapes.

-After living alone for 6 years Ran arrives in Subbin, takes part in the Pit tournament, and gains a family. At the same time the fishermen find and rescue Ranbob, bringing him to their home.

-2 years past with Ranbob recovering and having a haunting, and Ran fighting while spending time with his own haunting.

-Isaac manages to convince his group to go to Subbin even though Ranbob is a bit nervous, the fishermen join The Pit for the promise of money and fun. Ranbob gets pinned against Ran (doesnt know its Ran) and sees the King of The Hill is on with Ran at the top. Ranbob climbs up to see Ran there, he is shocked and approaches him with weapon dropped and shaking, Ran kicks him off the edge. Ranbob slams his head into the ground and dislocates his shoulder, rises up to see the King of The Hill dropping. Ranbob tries to talk to Ran only for Ran to run to him and slam him into the ground, yelling at and threatening him. He carries him over to the edge of the arena and at this point Porkius calls off the fight and the fishermen and Gladiators enter the arena to seperate them. Ran cursing out Ranbob as he gets dragged away. Ranbob gets treated in the medical wing as Ran storms about and the two groups talk and match everything up.

-Weeks past with incredible tension in the air. They decide that taking a trip may help and after getting approval from Porkius, manage to convince Ranbob and trick Ran to come along.

-After agurements and tense moments while in a carriage, they get out and walk to their next destination. A flower biome. Where they manage to relax and have fun for a few days before moving on.

-Next Watson leads them to a nearby waterfall he found with a tunnel behind it, the brothers get water splashed on them by Isaac and Jackie being idiots, and from dripping water in the cave, leaving Ran with burns to his neck and hands, while Ranbob has burns to his cheeks and also to his neck. The burns fade quickly with help of burn cream Watson brought with.

-After they pass the tunnel they see a shattered Savanna, and decide to travel through it. Tension ramps up when both Grievous and Cletus almost fall off halfway up a mountain, and when Rans scowling and growling end up sending Ranbob so far away from him he almost walks off the edge.

-Watson says the Savanna is to dangerous and leads them to a nearby roofed forest, where they have their first run in with Raq and learn that Ran is still being hunted.

-After 3 morw run-ins with Raq they move to another forest, this time Oak, and stumble upon a village, where they stop for supplies. This is also where they learn of Kelalen, but the librarian they learned it from dismisses them as lunatics and to avoid them. Upon pressing for more info they find out it was like Mizu, to which Ranbob shows interest and excitement.

-They move on to a Tagia biome where everyone attempts to tame a wolf and fails, expect Charles, Watson, and Ran. Charles gets 4 dogs from this and is very happy.

-While running to shelter in a cave from a thunderstorm, the brothers lag behind the rest, and start to badly agure. At the end Ran shouts something that makes Ranbob stop, stare at him with teary eyes, and run away. Ran almost goes after him but doesnt and instead goes to tell the others. While Ranbob finds another smaller cave to hide it, and after some harsh words, everyone goes searching for him. Leaving Ran alone and leaving him with his guilt ridden, horrible feeling, and merciless mind

-They get Ranbob to come back to find Ran gone, at first almost no one wants to go after him. Saying how it's all his fault. But eventually they agree to look for him after the storm has passed. Its a full day until the storm passes and the gladiators have become very worried for Ran.

-When they finally look for him, it takes them hours to find him. And they only find him when there's a sudden shout through the woods, leading them to Raq mid-attack on Ran, taking advantage of his distraction of being lost in his own mind. Sadly their a bit late and aren't able to save Ran from a blindness potion. But are able to chase Raq away. Ran suffers due to the potion, and everyone is distressed.

-3 days pass until they manage to collect themselves up enough to move, after Ranbob said that he believes the town of Kelalen is nearby, he believes traveling there is worth the risk.

-It takes a week to travel to Kelalen and at first they get turned away, before Lucia recognizes some features of Ranbob and feels bad turning them away when Ran is blind. So they get brought in and Ran gets cured.

-They stay in Kelalen for 4 weeks (minimum, may be more later on, im actually thinking along the lines of months) where they learn more about everything and Foolish who is particularly interesting. And after a while and long conversations they say goodbye and continue on to their next biome, a snow biome.

-While in the snow biome they meet a particular old enderman who used to live with members of the SMP. He reveals his name as Edward and upon meeting Ran and Ranbob he makes the connection with them to Ranboo. And starts to happily tell stories and teach lessons. But when Ran leaves to go to bed, Edward reveals that Ran does love Ranbob, but is struggling with his own nightmares that make it hard for him to show it to Ranbob. Who hesitates believing him, but eventually does. From here on Ranbob looks at and thinks of Ran in a different view.

-After the snow biome theres no real destination next on their list, so they decide to just explore.

-3 months past before something interesting happens. Whenever they come across a village Jackie has formed a habit of asking them about Foolish, as he took a interest in him. And he eventually gets a village that goes "Yes Foolish is that way." And he excitedly drags everyone else with him to meet Foolish.

-They get to Foolish's home and start exploring. Jackie is alone when Foolish confronts him and Jackie brings him to the others. Foolish isn't exactly nice at first but warms up upon seeing the brothers again, as he's reminded of Ranboo. Hes informed about Dream and he is horrified to learn that and offers his help, they decline beliving themselves already free of Dream. Just before the group leaves Foolish gives them access to his armoury, saying how he feels like they'll need it. Before Ran can leave Foolish gives him a special totem of undying, saying he truly means he'll help, and that he feels they may face Dream again. Foolish tells Ran to break it when they need help and he'll be summoned to them. Ran leaves disturbed.

-2 years have passed with the group and brothers getting closer, along with occasional attacks from Raq and other hunters. They head back to Subbin. Their goal of getting the brothers closer achieved. Their still not as close as they used to be, but their close enough they can joke around, be left in the same room together alone without someone being stabbed, and even hug. Though Ran still hasnt fully forgiven Ranbob yet, but he's trying his best. Their on their way back to Subbin when nightmares between the two start ramping up, and Ranbobs episodes where he tries to run back to Dream are also on the rise. Everyone is starting to suspect something is happening but isn't sure what and so try to move on. When next Raq attack he brings back up again, this time instead of focusing on Ran, they focus on Ranbob. When Raq is defeated and finally caught, they ask why, and Raq reveals that theres a person who put a high bounty on Ranbob. Raq dies from Ran and Cletus.

-Ranbob fears its Dream, the others comfort him saying Dream can't escape Mizu. Their wrong.

-They finally get to Subbin and things are normal for a while, until Porkius reveals that Ranbob probably shouldn't be alone for a while. When asked why he reveals that the bounty on Ranbob has been put back up in Subbin, although he's going as fast as he can to nullify it. Benjamin, Charles, and Watson go to the local bar where bounties are put. And sure enough there's one for Ranbob there.

-When they get back Ran reveals what Foolish told him about facing Dream. They realizie Dream somehow got out and is hunting Ranbob down. Ranbob is terrified but they manage to comfort him. And they come to the conclusion they need to fight Dream. They spend months preparing and training for it.

-(This is the end bit and has yet to be fully figured out. So it'll be added in at a later time.)

Notes: During the whole time traveling, unless specified, Ran and Ranbob are far away from each other. Ran tending to be in the very front of the group with Ranbob in the very back. And whenever Ranbob got close to a gladiator Ran would growl at him to back off.

If you have any questions feel free to ask! (And if I missed anything please tell me so I can add it)

And I wanna check, am I still ok to send these?- to like talk about my au or no?- I'm afraid I've overstayed my welcome honestly and if I did I dont want to annoy you and will stop! And if you still don't mind, is there anything you want me to change? In general?

This’ll be helpful for the future! Also, Charles has four dogs, that’s adorable.

Of course you’re okay to send ‘em, I love reading these things!

I will never be annoyed about getting to see someone’s cool ideas and see how they choose to build on them. That sort of thing is awesome, and I love seeing it, your AU most certainly a favorite in that like. Send as many as you’d like, and I’ll be all the happier for it.

#Brothers AU #dream smp #dream smp au #tales from the smp

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 5 years

Link

Summary: Marinette had replayed the video enough times. She'd know Adrien's voice saying those three words anywhere. (Set the same day as the episode Felix. Reveal Fic. Rated T for kissing, ignores Chat Blanc mostly because my heart can’t take the angst right now.)

~~~

“I love you.”

“I lo—”

Tikki’s tiny butt sat on the video’s pause button, freezing Adrien’s lips in a perfect o.

“Marinette, you need to get ahold of yourself.”

Marinette was sure her complexion matched her kwami’s as she dropped her face onto her desk. “I knoooooow.”

She was being ridiculous. More ridiculous than usual, anyway. But something about those words did more than just make her stomach flutter—it felt familiar, though it was probably just from her daydreams. If he’d told her he loved her before, there was no way she’d forget it.

Her thumb instinctively moved to replay the last five seconds again. Tikki flew into the small space between her and the phone screen, catching the digit between her arms.

“This is an intervention,” she said in her most authoritative voice. Considering it was still two octaves higher than the average humans, it shouldn’t have had much effect, but Marinette hated disappointing Tikki. She was her friend, the only one she could be completely honest with.

And Tikki was pretty good about being honest with her, too. If the kwami thought Marinette needed an intervention, she was probably right.

“Fine.” Marinette spun in her desk chair, intending to pull out some butcher paper and start drafting a pattern in the few hours before patrol tonight. It wasn’t likely that Hawkmoth would akumatize two people in one day—or four, considering it had been three for the price of one thanks to Felix’s stunt—but Chat had sounded a little desperate when he asked if they could still meet up. She hoped he hadn’t planned another impromptu date. She didn’t know if she could handle that after finding out that yet another one of her plans to confess to Adrien had fallen through, this time through no fault of her own.

Would he have said I love you back to her if it weren’t for his cousin’s interference? They’d gotten so much closer lately, but…

“I’m not good with jokes. The girl I’m in love with doesn’t like them, either.”

That she didn’t need a recording to replay. It was embedded in her memory, like a deep splinter she couldn’t dig out.

He might say he loved her, as a friend. But beyond that? She was just setting herself up for disaster.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked. “Do you need some help with the paper?”

She shook her head, almost whacking it on the desk leg as she scrambled for her supply box beneath. “No, I got it. You can grab the measuring tape, though.”

She was finally going to mock up the pattern for an airy sundress she’d spent the last week sketching out. Nothing would take her mind off of her troubling love life like the single-minded focus of a personal project.

It worked a little too well, though. Between drafting each piece, cutting the paper, pinning it to the cheap test fabric, cutting the fabric, pinning the pieces to each other—she barely managed to stop herself from starting the actual sewing when Tikki held up her phone.

On top of a group selfie of her, Adrien, Alya, and Nino, the clock showed 9:29. Patrol started at 9:30

“Ack! I’m going to be late!” She jabbed herself at least ten times getting her pins all back in the pincushion. Everything else could wait, but she didn’t want to swing in and catch one in her foot later.

“Tikki, spots on!”

By the time she swung across town to the Eiffel Tower, her bugphone read 9:35. Record time, but still late. So where was…?

“Little kitty on a roof, all alone without his lady…”

The familiar tune was more downcast than Marinette was used to. Sure enough, when she swung up a few crossbars to Chat Noir’s perch, she caught a flash of his forlorn expression before his usual grin took over.

“Hey there, Bugaboo,” his voice chirped as chipper as ever. Had she been imagining his earlier mood? Or maybe he’d just been worried she wouldn’t make it. Silly kitty. Regardless of whether or not she returned his feelings, she’d vowed to never stand him up again if she could help it.

“Any trouble on the way over?” He asked.

“Only with myself,” she admitted, rubbing the still-stinging pads of her fingers. She probably should’ve put some ointment on them before transforming; the suit irritated the little pricks further. “Civilian me is still as much of a mess as ever.”

She’d hoped that by dropping non-identifying clues on how much she struggled in her daily life, Chat Noir would see through the perfect illusion he had of her and come to his senses. Honestly, she should’ve known better. It hadn’t worked the first ten times she’d tried, and now it only brought a wider smile to his face.

(That wasn’t why she did it, of course. Even if it warmed her more than she wanted to admit, she only had feelings for one green-eyed blond.)

“The only mess you make is a mess of my heart, my lady,” he said with a wink that had her rolling her eyes.

“How do you even come up with those lines?” She asked with a stifled laugh—at how bad it was, not because he was actually funny. “The internet?”

“I’m paw-fended,” he gasped, claws spread in front of his mouth dramatically. “I’ll have you know that everything I say is a one-hundred-percent Chat Noir original.”

“Of course. I should’ve known. Who else could drop that kind of cheese so seriously?”

“Only because I am serious, Bugaboo,” he reminded her. As if she could forget. Bantering back and forth with him was so easy; she hoped she wasn’t accidentally leading him on. He deserved better than that.

He smiled as he bumped his shoulder against hers. His voice bared his sincerity as he said, “Hate on my puns all you want. It won’t change the fact that I love you.”

I love you.

Electricity shot up Marinette’s spine. No. No, it couldn’t be—

I love you.

She’d replayed those words at least a hundred times (two hundred and fifty-three, but who was counting?) in the past day. She’d memorized his exact inflection, the way he spoke from his heart, even if it was about all their friends and not her alone. She would recognize his voice saying those three words anywhere.

Anywhere. Including coming from her ridiculous, pun-loving partner.

“Ladybug?” Chat scooted away from her, his fingertips digging into the backs of his hands. “I’m sorry, I—I know you don’t feel the same way, you don’t have to—”

“Adrien?”

He nearly toppled off of the tower. Marinette caught him by the shoulder, holding him in place before he could lose his balance again, or run away, or—she didn’t know what he’d do. She really should’ve thought this through. They were supposed to keep their identities secret! It wasn’t his fault, of course; she imagined if he’d called her Marinette while she was in the suit she would’ve had a much worse heart attack—

“Who—who’s Adrien?” Chat forced a grin.

“Oh, no. You’re not getting out of this that easy.” She fell deeper into Ladybug mode, still not letting her brain process that—that holy crap this was ADRIEN, Adrien who had just confessed his love to her—to her—!

“Ladybug, please, please don’t freak out, I’m sorry.” It was his turn to grip her shoulders as she tried to breathe. His acidic green eyes were blown wide, the miraculous transformation hiding his normal soft chartreuse irises. Still, how could she not have noticed? It was him it was him it was him and she couldn’t unhear it, couldn’t separate his apologetic voice now from their time at the wax museum when she had almost kissed him and no, now that was even doubly embarrassing because it was CHAT, she’d almost kissed CHAT NOIR—

“I’m not freaking out! Why would you think I’m freaking out?”

Her eye twitched. Her heart just about escaped her ribcage at the soft look of concern her partner was giving her. Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad.

“I know you didn’t want to find out, and I… how did you find out?” He asked hesitantly. His hand left her shoulder to rub the back of his neck, and she barely restrained herself from tugging it back. Or better yet, climbing into his lap and hoping he’d enfold her in his arms.

Bad. Very, very bad.

“I… well, you see—haha look at the time!” She sprang up and glanced at her obviously-watchless wrist. “Looks like we’re too late to patrol tonight. Oops! Sorry Ad—Chat! I’ll have to love you—SEE you later! Bug out!”

“Ladybug!” He scrambled to his feet, reaching for her arm before she could grab her yo-yo. He was Chat and he was Adrien and he was touching her and even through both their suits she felt herself burning. No, no, she could not be weird with her partner. Not after she’d turned him down over and over and—

Part of her wanted to cry. But Chat—Adrien—had already beaten her to it.

“Please, LB. Please, don’t go. if you have something against Adrien you can tell me, o-or you can not, but please just… don’t leave me.” He swallowed hard, his voice thick with the tears already pooling around the lip of his mask. “Not tonight.”

Tonight. Today. The anniversary of Adrien’s mother’s disappearance.

The anniversary of Chat’s mother’s disappearance.

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling like the worst partner—the worst friend in the whole world. She pulled him close, shoving all other traitorous feelings and desires aside, and focused on comforting him. “I’m so sorry, kitty. I’m not going anywhere, I just—panicked, that’s all.”

He laughed hollowly. The sound curdled in her stomach, a sick parody of the cheery sound that usually rang from him. But he had every right to sound that way, after what he’d been through. His mom was gone and she knew his home life was a wreck and he had so many of his father’s expectations dragging on him, and moonlighting as a superhero on top of that—

How had he ended up being the carefree one out of their duo?

“You panicked because I broke the number one rule. I gave myself away somehow.”

“No, chaton. It’s not your fault.” She rubbed soothing circles into the small of his back, trying to ignore how she could feel the toned muscles through the leather. (His suit was much worse for her sanity knowing it was Adrien in it.) “It’s my fault. One hundred percent definitely my fault.”

He pulled back enough to stare at her, his head tilted sideways like he really was just an overgrown curious kitty, and her transformation from Ladybug into a puddle-bug seemed all too likely.

“I still don’t know how you did it. Is this one of those ‘lucky charm’ connections only your brilliant mind can make?”

Marinette giggled into his shoulder, because maintaining eye contact was beyond her physical limit right now. “Chat, the only brilliant thing about me is how brilliantly stupid I’ve been.”

“I’m still not following, my lady.” His voice was still a little rough, but no longer dripping with desperation.

She kept up the soothing pattern on his back, just in case.

“I… er…” There was no good way to say, oh, I recognized your voice because I’ve been listening to you tell me you love me all afternoon, only you weren’t even saying it to me and actually I’m a massive creep and you probably don’t want to be friends with me anymore, let alone be my partner and—

“Shh, shh, breathe.”

—And now he was comforting her again. It took her back to the first time they’d met—well, the first time Ladybug met Chat Noir. She’d been so useless, and he’d been so ready to assure her that she could handle it. From then on she’d somehow begun to take charge, but without that first push—without him—she’d never have gotten here.

And maybe… maybe leaning on him again wouldn’t be so bad.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her forehead resting against his chest. He held her tight but refrained from any other soothing motions. Of course he wouldn’t. She’d brushed off too many of his physically affectionate gestures before.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” It was a testament to how serious he was that he didn’t slip in a paw-pun there. Honestly, she wished he had; she could’ve used the laugh right now. “I trust you. I always wanted you to be the first to know my identity, anyway.”

“Chat, I have everything to apologize for.”

She could hardly explain why without giving away her own identity, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She’d rather have this conversation now than after she’d made a fool of herself—scratch that, she was already making a fool of herself, but it could be worse. She could accidentally call him Chat in class. She could boop his nose like she sometimes did as Ladybug. Or someone could catch her doodling their wedding outfits in her notebook. She was really going to have to stop that, or Alya would wonder why she’d suddenly decided she wanted a “ladynoir” themed ensemble.

Great. Five minutes into finding out Chat was Adrien, and she was still daydreaming about marrying him! Get a grip, Marinette! She hadn’t been this bad around Adrien in months, but connecting him with Chat had short-circuited her brain.

“I’m not… I’m not like this, as myself.” She pulled back and gestured down to all of her. “And I don’t know that you’d still like me if you knew. You never seemed to before.”

“Are you saying I know you? Civilian you?”

He didn’t sound surprised. Had she given herself away, too? Her spastic reaction earlier did scream “Marinette.” It wasn’t how she’d dreamed of revealing herself to her partner, but since when did her dreams regarding Adrien ever pan out?

“Yes. You do.” She hoped her voice sounded more confident than she felt. Sure, she was thrilled (and confused and mortified) that Adrien was Chat Noir, but would he feel the same about her identity?

“Can I… can I guess who you are?” Adrien-Noir asked, his voice fragile as glass. His hands shook against her back. “If you don’t want me to, I get it, really. But I… I think I know. There’s no one else you could be.”

She pulled back, her eyebrows drawn in confusion beneath her mask. “You’re that certain? I was so—nevermind. I want to hear it.” Explaining how careful she was to mislead him would only confirm his suspicions, if he was even right. For all she knew, he thought she was some stranger he knew from fencing or one of his other extracurricular activities.

One of his sly Chat-grins spread across his face. Normally that would have her worried, but it was a relief to fall back into a familiar pattern.

(Though how close he leaned in to her ear was new. And was likely to make her burst like fireworks if she so much as breathed.)

“I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Fire spread through every inch of her. She jolted in Adrien’s arms, cracking her head against his jaw and making him yelp.

“Sorry! Oh my—are you kayo—okay?” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Adrien said he loved her! Marinette her! And then she probably broke his jaw or something—!

“I’m fine—a-at least I think I am, if I was right? About you being Marinette?” He rubbed his jaw and smiled hopefully at her. Yep, she was definitely going to be a puddle-bug. He’d be scooping her off the side of the Eiffel Tower in a bucket.

She swallowed the giddy laugh bubbling up in her. “I bet it would be really embarrassing if you weren’t.”

He laughed and scooped her up in a hug that lifted her feet from the metal beam. “Marinette! I knew it!”

Pressed close to him, she barely resisted the urge to wrap her legs around his waist and kiss his lips. He was Adrien and Chat and him, and he was holding her and he loved her!

The laugh finally escaped, breathless and smitten, as she laced her fingers behind his neck.

“You did. Somehow. I was so careful too—you have no idea how hard it is to split yourself and use that many miraculouses at once. The illusion was perfect though.” She frowned as she thought back on their fight with Kwamibuster. “How did you find out?”

“I asked you first.” He smirked. It was a face he made all the time, it had no right to be so cute now. It was a just a curve of his lips, of Adrien’s lips—

“If I kissed you, do you think you’d forget about it?”

She slapped her hands over her mouth. Had she—had she really said that? To Adrien!?

“Actually if you could just forget I said that too—”

“Not a chance, Buginette.”

She hadn’t thought his grin could get any wider, but she’d been wrong. He held her tight, her toes barely brushing the ground. Still, she could escape if she wanted to.

(She didn’t want to.)

“Chaaaat…”

“Thanks to Oblivio, I forgot the last time you kissed me. There’s no way I’m forgetting again.”

She flushed as she remembered the picture Alya had taken of them. Of course, it made sense now—she must have somehow learned Chat’s identity while they were under Oblivio’s influence. How long had that fight taken? Did she have a shorter or longer reveal-to-kiss timeframe this time?

And then the full force of it hit her. He wanted to kiss her.

Adrien. Wanted to kiss. Her.

She lost what little coherent thought she had left as she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him to her. Their lips collided roughly, and she felt him gasp before he melted into her.

From there, it was all a blur. Some distant part of her mind might have registered how she ended up with her legs wrapped around his hips, how he stumbled back into a crossbeam, how he held her so tightly she might’ve been crushed outside of the suit. But all of that was faded against the single-minded desire to drown him in the love and desire and everything that she’d kept bottled tight for the past year.

She had no idea how long it was before he pulled back and breathlessly said her name. “Marinette.” Those three syllables in that voice had her losing her mind. She was about to claim his lips again when he turned his head, making her miss and kiss his cheek. Well. That wasn’t so bad, either. She peppered the side of his face, up to the edge of his mask, and he laughed.

“Marinette. LB. You can’t hide behind kisses forever.”

“Watch me.”

A kiss to the shell of his ear. His nose. The sliver of his neck that wasn’t covered by his suit— she felt his legs wobble a little at that one.

“...I stand corrected.”

She giggled at the completely smitten look on his face. She’d put that there. Of course, Chat had looked at Ladybug that way before, but the fact that it was also Adrien beaming at her, knowing she was Marinette… All the puzzle pieces finally fit together, grooves sliding into place just as perfectly as she fit in his arms.

“Two can play at that game, Bugaboo.”

Oh. Oh. Sure, they’d practically been making out seconds ago, but the soft kisses he now littered across her jaw somehow felt even more intimate. Their first kiss had been desperate. These were slower, like he had all the time in the world—and they did.

He wasn’t going anywhere. He loved her.

She practically groaned in disappointment when he finally lowered her back to the ground.

Adrien just laughed. “I had no idea you were so clingy, Princess.”

“I’m not clingy,” she pouted, stepping back from him to prove it. “But if you think I am, fine. See if you get any more kisses.”

Three whole coherent sentences. Wow. After kissing Adrien, she expected to be a stuttering mess, but she was actually finding it easier to channel her Ladybug confidence. Maybe it was the fact that for the first time, she knew he was as crazy about her too.

“Hey, hey, I never said that was a bad thing.” He squeezed her tight again, a slight purr rumbling in his chest before he coughed.

“I think we all know who’s the clingy one, anyway.” She said, scratching the spot behind his ear until she coaxed another purr from him. Bad idea. She couldn’t spend all her time with her lips locked to his.

“Whatever you say, Marinette.” His tail curled around her. “So… as mind-meltingly amazing as kissing you was, I think I still remember a certain question I had.”

How she found out his identity. Right. This had to be the biggest whiplash for him—her literally turning him down last week just to turn around and practically jump him. (Not that he was complaining, obviously.)

She bit her lip. Lying to him would be impossible, even if she wanted to. She’d promised a long time ago that she would never lie to him… except for when she had to hide her identity, but that was because Master Fu would want to reclaim their miraculouses if they revealed themselves.

...Which they just had. Her gut twisted at that realization, which had been lost in her earlier excitement. But Fu couldn’t just take their miraculouses, right? He was training her to be the Guardian. Plus, after their fight with Feast, Marinette hoped he would know better.

She was Ladybug. Adrien was Chat Noir. No one else could replace them—not to Paris, and not each other.

She could deal with Fu. But dealing with Adrien knowing just how obsessed she was? That was a different terror entirely.

“Fine,” she sighed. “It’s really, really embarrassing though. You’re… probably going to think I’m a creep, honestly.”

Adrien blinked when she glanced up at him through her eyelashes, not daring to watch him directly. “I won’t judge you, I paw-mise.”

She dropped her head in her hands and stifled a giggle. At least they were back to puns. She never thought she’d be grateful for that, but it eased her nervousness.

“You know how you, uh, sent a video to our class today? To reply to the videos you never saw?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Well… err…” She was sure her face was challenging the shade of her suit, but he just blinked innocently. “I may have… singled out the part… where you said, um…”

He was still waiting patiently.

“I took the part where you said ‘I love you’ and replayed it two hundred and fifty-three times.”

She wanted to shove her fist in her mouth. She wasn’t going to lie, but she didn’t have to be that honest!

Chat stared. Blinked.

...And doubled over laughing.

Well, this was it. At least she’d gotten to kiss him once, right? Hopefully he could forget this enough for them to still work together, because she’d never forgive herself if she ruined their partnership and Hawkmoth got their miraculouses because of it—

“You—I can’t believe it.” His arms had fallen while he laughed, but now he pulled her in again, practically crushing her to his chest. “And here I thought I was the crazy one.”

“Please kill me,” she groaned.

“Never.” He said with a kiss to her temple that shot lightning across her skin. “I’m keeping you forever, Bugaboo. No takebacks.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” She paused, searched his eyes for any trace of hesitance. If anything, he looked giddier than ever. “You’re not mad? Or… weirded out?”

“Marinette, I play with action figures of us. Sometimes they kiss. I really have no room to talk.”

She gaped up at him. The image of Adrien making toy versions of themselves kiss—okay, she had to cackle too, because it was too insane to process otherwise. They really were made for each other.

“You do have to promise me one thing, though,” he said, his voice sobering.

“What?” She asked before her brain could start catastrophizing again.

“You have to let me say I love you at least two hundred fifty-four times. I can’t be beat out by a video of myself.”

He—he was serious. Right when she was thinking it was impossible to love him any more, he said things like that.

“That’s a lot of times.”

“I guess I’d better get started then, huh?”

She punched his arm lightly and ignored how much she really really wanted to let him do just that. (Maybe with a few more kisses sprinkled between.)

“Not yet, chaton. You still have to tell me how you recognized me.”

“Technically I don’t think you finished,” he pointed out, to which she rolled her eyes.

“I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ so many times, I recognized your voice. That’s all.”

“I would’ve told you I loved you as Adrien a long time ago if it would’ve made you see it.” He chuckled. “I wish I had a story like that. I didn’t know for sure, I just thought… well, Marinette and Ladybug are the two most amazing girls I know, and… I think I hoped it was you more than anything.”

The soft grin on his face threatened to send her melting again. He’d wanted her to be the girl he loved. Of course his epiphany had come over something so sweet, rather than her completely embarrassing story.

“That still doesn’t explain how you saw through me being Multimouse and Ladybug,” she said. “You really do think with your heart more than your head, don’t you?”

“One of us has to.” He winked, and she hid a lovestruck smile. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of melting at everything he did. He was still her silly kitty, after all. “I know it looked impossible, but if anyone could pull off the impossible, it’s you.”

She could pull off the impossible, which right now included resisting the urge to kiss him senseless again.

“You’re the one who’s impossible,” she said with a flick to his bell.

“And you can pull me off anytime,” he blurted before covering his mouth. “Uh.”

“Adrien, that doesn’t even make sense,” she said for the second time in the past five minutes.

His face flushed. “I can’t be at the top of my flirting game all the time. I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything, to be honest. The cheesy pick up lines are kind of a coping mechanism. Not that I’m upset, I’m not! I’m so, so happy—It’s just—it’s a lot.”

“It is a lot,” she agreed, slipping out of his embrace to sit on the cold metal of the tower. “Come on, sit with me. Paris can take care of itself for one night.”

He grinned and plopped down beside her, hesitating only a moment before enfolding her in his arms.

“Thank you. This means the world to me.” He kissed the top of her head. “Today was… well, you know. A year ago today my mom disappeared. I’m doing alright, much better than Father is, but still...” He slumped against her, his chin resting on her shoulder, their cheeks brushing. “It’s why I wanted to be with you tonight. And then everything else—well, it’s better than I could’ve imagined.”

She was afraid it had been too much for him, dealing with their identities at such a sensitive time, but he did look much more relaxed now. Despite his cousin’s earlier interference, she had managed to help him anyway. That was the most important thing.

“I’m glad I could help. I actually tried to tell you in the video Felix deleted… but I love you, Adrien. And I’ll always be here if you need me.”

He turned his face so their foreheads rested against each other, filling her vision with his bright green eyes. The hopeful glow in them could’ve put all of Paris’s lights to shame.

“You love me?”

His breath ghosted over her lips, mingled with her laugh. She’d said it. She’d finally said it.

“Of course, minou. What, did you think I kissed you because we’re just friends?”

“That happened?” He blinked in fake innocence. “I don’t know, I think Oblivio might have hit me while you weren’t looking. You might have to kiss me again.”

She rolled her eyes, but she could only do the impossible for so long. Their noses bumped as she kissed him long and soft and slow. Could she ever get used to this? Each kiss left her soaring higher than the last.

They broke apart giggling and flushed before Chat shyly asked a question.

“Did you mean it when you said you’ll always be here if I need you? I can be a very needy kitty.” His voice was all Chat Noir, but his face was the soft, open expression she was used to seeing from Adrien.

He was worried about that? But then, there were so few other people in his life who were just there, she realized. No wonder he had coveted attention from Ladybug for so long.

“Always, Adrien,” she said softly. “I know I can’t fix everything. Especially about your mom.” She cupped his face in her hands. “But being here? That’s easy. Never feel bad about needing that.”

“That’s all I want,” he breathed. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He wrapped her in his arms again, and she hugged him back just as tightly.

“Me too, kitty. Me too.”

#tali writes #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #chat noir #ladybug #fic tag #this is like the worst fic layout #one day i'll decide how i want to go about posting oneshots #but not today apparently

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dungeons-bat · 3 years

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Mister Blue Eyes (1st Chap)

Warnings: Bad words, nothing else.

The complete fic --------------------------------------------- As I finished, the whole restaurant started clapping.

“Thank you very much, you all, for your time. The Coffee Shop closes in half on hour, and you have ten minutes before the kitchen closes. Order your food now or never. The bar keeps open for the whole half hour. Thank you very much again.” - So I left the stage and started to put my stuff in my bag. As soon as I got inside my house, I had a quick bath and slept. I was tired as hell.

The next day. My boss asked me to sing during breakfast, which was unusual, giving the fact that I only sing, sometimes, at noon to 14:00 and four times a week 20:00 to 22:30. And today is not even my day of work. Anyway, he asked, and I have nothing to do, so extra cash will not kill me. After some time I saw a man getting inside the shop, and I was sure I’ve seen him somewhere, I just don't know where. It was already annoying, I kept looking at him, trying to figure out from where I’d know him. I could not guess. He was for sure British. I heard him talking to the waitress. So, how did I know this man? I kept repeating to myself all his physical characteristics. A bit long, reddish light brown hair, blue eyes, athletic body, and seamed to be 1.90, or 1.85, maybe. Seams to be 35 years old, not older than 45. He noticed that I was looking at him, and locked eyes with mine. But I quickly moved my eyes away, blushing. But Lord, that man was handsome. And he kept looking at me, and I was already regretting being in the stage. I just wanted to hide my face somewhere. I could feel my cheeks burning, everyone should be seeing me blushing. When I finished my songs, he was still there, but he had finished his breakfast a while ago. I just decided to forget him. The problem was: in the next day, I decided to have breakfast at the restaurant, and guess who was there? Mister Blue Eyes. And I suppose he remembered me, because sometimes I caught him looking at me. It was even hard to eat, you have no idea of how hot he was. I decided that if I keep seeing him, I would eventually ask him where he studies, or where he works, so that maybe I can discover why I seem to know him. But if I don't see him again, I’m going to leave it quiet. Guess what? I kept seeing him. Sometimes he would just show up at night, when my performances were a bit better, since it was like ‘fancy dinner time’, and would just ask for a table, drink something, but eat nothing. He was just there, for two hours and a half, alone, watching me perform, doing nothing else. One day he brought another man. That day we were having an event, and I was singing better songs, like Frank Sinatra, or Elvis Presley. We were serving the most fancy food I’ve ever seen, and Mister Blue Eyes showed up on a gorgeous suit, dark blue. With the suit, he was wearing a shirt and tie that matched the blue shade. When he arrived I was already singing, and I literally tripped when I saw him, that man knew how t look just fine. The man who was seated with him was wearing a normal suit, black with a white shirt. The strange part was that the guy was always writing something, while Mister Blue Eyes kept looking at me. One day I just gave up. “Hello sir, I see that you come here constantly, and I have the feeling that I’ve seen you somewhere else. My name is Isa, by the way. It’s actually Isabela, but let’s stay with Isa.” - I was shaking, nervous as hell. “Hi Isa. I’m Tom. Thomas, actually. But I don't believe we’ve met. Don’t be shy, have a seat.” - He said, showing the chair in front of him. The name Tomas did not ring a bell, but it just gave me a stronger impression that I did yes know him. “Before anything, I would just like to say that I really enjoy your performances. You are incredibly talented.” - And that’s when I thank my parents for the education they gave me, because talking to this man made my brain melt, I could just answer stupid and simple things, as thank you, or, you don’t have to be so kind. “So, Tom, what do you work with?” - I would just ask those

idiotic questions that you make when you want to get to know someone. “Oh, well. I’m an actor, actually.” - He simply said. Oh my, this is? No, it can’t be. I don’t believe it. Who is the only British actor, blue-eyed, with reddish hair and named Tom that I know? Is he freaking Tom Hiddleston? My face turned white. “Hey, are you OK?” - he asked, but I was in shock. How could I not recognize him before? This is The Night Manager, Tom Hiddleston. This is Loki, Tom Hiddleston. Oh my freaking Lord. I’m freaking talking to Tom Hiddleston. “My God, you’re Tom Hiddleston.” - I don’t know If I should have said that, but I did. My brain was just not working any more. “So I guess you have just discovered from where you know me. Have you ever seen anything I’m in?” - Now is when I decide if I’m going to tell the truth, and he’s going to think I’m a crazy creep. Or, I’m gonna lie and say no. “I don’t mean to seam like a creep, but I’ve seen some.” - And he showed me a look that seemed to mean: ‘Oh, really?’ “That’s interesting. Care to tell me which?” - I can’t just tell him. I’m totally going to sound like a crazy creep. “Well, I’m a huge marvel fan, so the MCU in general. And the Loki series. Also, I’ve seen the Night Manager, and Kong. Besides, my two personal favourites, Crimson Peak and High Rise.” - At least he did not seem annoyed. “Wow, I’m surprised that you did not recognize me when you saw me the first time. Not that I’’m the famous actor, or nothing. But you’ve seen quite a number of projects I'm in.” - Yeah Tom, I also can’t believe I did not recognize you. His phone rang, and he took a quick look before saying, “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt our conversation, but I need to take this.” - I just nod, and he stood up, going somewhere else. I was still in shock, that was Thomas William Hiddleston, flesh and bones, in front of me. After some minutes, Thomas came back. “Sorry to keep you waiting, it was my publicist, I’m currently trying to get a paper on a series, and he was telling the date of my audition.” - Who would not want him on their show? “Well, I think you know some stuff about me, so if you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for living? I mean, do you live with your parents? Are you on college?” - Great question. “I live alone. Not alone, I have my cat. I always wanted to act, but I was afraid I would not get any work, since I’m not good, so I stick with my second option, law school. I graduated just this year. And I work at a firm, it was not that hard getting the job, thanks Harvard. I also work here, as you’ve noticed, but that’s just because I like to sing” - I explained. “So by yourself literally. What about your parents? If you’re comfortable in telling. Also, Harvard? Wow” - My parents? Left them as soon as I could. “I just don't have a great relationship with my parents, so as soon as I could leave their house, I did. They didn't have to pay college because I got a scholarship, so that was easier.” - “I believe it is your turn to ask the questions, miss.” - What could I possibly ask? “Well, I already know the answers to the questions you have asked me, so it makes no sense for me to ask. Let’s see. What do you like to do? Any hobbies?’ - What could Mister Hiddleston do when he has nothing to? “I love to read, I also love theatre acting. So normally when I’m bored I’ll read something or find something good to watch. I’ll go take a walk with my dog, Bobby. I also like jogging, I do it every morning. And yeah. I think that’s it.” - Mental note : Tom’s dog is called Bobby. “What a bout you.” - He asked. “Well, I also enjoy reading and theatre. I normally spend my whole day reading with my cat. I love to write too , I have never published anything, but I have quite a number of books saved in my drive. I like to go for a walk, and my cat comes with me, do not judge, he is a dog trapped in the body of a cat. And yeah, I love boxing too, I do it two times a week. I suppose that’s it.” - Now we hope that I’ve said nothing wrong. “I look forward to reading something of yours, Isa.” Oh, right on the jugular.

“They are really messed up, like, bad. They are really not good. Not worth anyone’s time, especially yours.” - Like all of them together can make a good bunch of crap. “I think you’re not the one to judge.”

#tom hiddleston #hiddlestoners #hiddlestan #thomas william hiddleston #fanfic #fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston series #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x ofc #hiddlesfic

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onisiondrama · 3 years

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Crows Of Judgement Onision Interview Part 1

January 18, 2021 - (Sorry I am so late on this! I completely forgot to listen to this interview.)

Link to interview. It starts at 52 minutes into the stream.

James compliments the stream setup (even he's been on Drunken Peasants and they have a similar set up. Pointing this out because in the past people have speculated he compliments men on streams before debates to manipulate them and this reminded me of that theory.)

James says he doesn't stream anymore since he was banned from Twitch. He then says he streamed on OnisionSpeaks for 2 1/2 hours asking people what he was guilty of. He asks the people in the stream if they can answer that question. Someone says he's guilty of being famous on the internet and not being nice to women. James asks how was he not nice. The person says he doesn't know and jokes that he hugged someone. (This is in reference to a tweet the documentary showed where Sarah asks why James asked her for a hug when she was 16 after Kai left the room. The people in the stream were making fun of it before James joined.) James sarcastically says apparently it was a really bad thing to give that person a hug.

The host says he doesn't like James, but he doesn't think there is evidence he crossed the line of criminality. James asked then what did he actually do? The host says he thinks it's incredible creepy to travel to a state to hook up with someone who is 17. James asks what the age of consent in his (James') state is. Host says he doesn't care. James says it's 16, so he went to states with higher age of consent so that doesn't mesh with the host's point. James says the host made it sound like he went to the state because the age of consent was 17. James says he believes you can't legally go lower than the age of consent in your own state.

The host talks about how he cut someone off who would brag about hooking up with people who just turned the age of consent because they are turned on by it. James asks what's the pattern? The host says he thinks James hooks up with women who are emotionally vulnerable. James clarifies his question was about the person the host was talking about. The host says this person constantly bragged about being with women who were 18. James asks how old that person was. Host says 35. James laughs. The host said it's clear why he would do that. They're young, stupid, easy to lie to, easy to manipulate, and they don't question him on anything. Host says he sees this with James, he goes after women who are emotionally weak who tend to be younger. He says he doesn't think that would stop James from hooking up with someone who is his age or older, but James needs someone who is weaker than him mentally. James says "huh. That's an interesting therapy based theory." James then switches and says he's married to someone smarter than him who has a psyc degree. James says he only has a diploma from high school. The host says being book smart doesn't mean anything to him. Says he's met some highly educated idiots.

Someone says Steven Asarch went to school for journalism for 6 years. James laughs and asks why. They say apparently he needs 6 years to learn journalism. James says Steven can't even research his facts and a blogger can do a better job than him.

James asks what the host thinks of his father in the doc. The host says he was an absentee father and he displays a lot of the same tendencies as James. He says he doesn't think his father wants anything to do with James. Someone asks then why was he on the doc? Host says because James accused him of certain things and he went on to make himself look like a good person.

James explains his father said in the doc that the psyc evaluation proved he didn't do anything, yet didn't talk about how the 7 year old he violated was no longer legally obligated to see him anymore when his other two children were. The host says that doesn't prove what the child accused him of was true, just that the court saw an emotional issue with them.

James talks about how his father got his age wrong in his Steven Asarch interview and he (James) proved it with documents. He goes on about how he beat up his father, his father was scared of him, his father called the cops on him when he wouldn't eat dinner.

James says he's on the stream because he doesn't want to live in an echo chamber.

(The host continues to answer James' question earlier in the stream. The reason they got off track so many times is because James keeps interrupting the host.) The host says he believes James likes to dominate over people and he's seen that in the way James interacts with people. The host thinks Shiloh is dishonest, but he thinks James did some creepy things with her.

The host starts talking about how James took legal guardianship of Sarah. James says that was already debunked. Host asks why she was living with them? James says she told them her mom was beating her. He says Sarah was kicked out twice. Once was when she was texting her friend Lane and the texts were leaked and it showed Sarah was "plotting." He says she was talking about having feelings for Kai, but James made it clear she wasn't supposed to have feelings for Kai. He says the other reason she was kicked out was the "stupid" comments he made. She was sticking her ass in the air on a bean bag and he said "dat booty tho." He says apparently she got offended. He says he normally makes jokes like that if something is ugly, like if Billy The Fridge showed his ass crack. He says he didn't find out until months later and she had a mental breakdown when she found out she was being kicked out. Says he told her he can't have her around if she was going to say what he said was inappropriate.

The host asks why do so many girls James interacts with have mental breakdowns? James asks who else? Shiloh and Billie are mentioned. James says he doesn't think Billie had a mental breakdown. He says she hit a tree with a stick because she was mad she was caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. So it was only Sarah and Shiloh who had a breakdown. (I'm pretty sure he's called Billie something along the lines of a psycho for the tree hitting incident. She also wrote "fuck you" and tied a noose next to it, but he's not mentioning that because he's trying to make it seem like not a big deal when he's made a huge deal about it in the past.)

The host asks why was Sarah living with them for that amount of time when she was clearly unstable? James says she was stable most of the time. They played video games and watched anime together. Host asks how old Sarah was? James says they were just people hanging out. Host asks again. James says she was 16 and they had a 15 year age gap. Host points out James was roughly twice her age. James says hey only hung out once every two weeks because he was working on Youtube constantly. Says Sarah mostly hung out with Kai. He says most of their interactions was him insulting her, like a petty older brother.

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Someone Left to Save (5)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I’m so sorry it took way longer than it should :((( Work got me close to a burnout and my laptop’s sometimes a lil bitch ;-; I should pick up the pick soon, but thank you for still reading this fic! I really appreciate it ❤

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions | Trigger warning: Graphic bodily descriptions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

Cal reluctantly left the structure with his companions. Throughout the entire exit, the Jedi never spoke a word, Larki and Morzen could do nothing but glance at him every once in a while until they mounted their speeders again.

Not even BD-1 himself could get a response from his owner.

Throughout their exit from the structure, Cal spoke nothing. Larki and Morzen could only catch a glimpse of the Jedi, neither of them can say something of value to him—perhaps nothing at all. The three of them mounted their speeders and without even waiting for the two, Cal revs up the engine of his bike and sped out. Fortunately, Larki was able to catch up as soon as his own speeder sputtered to life.

The small search party returned to the temple ruins, as they were told by Cere via comlink in the middle of their drive. Cal’s entrance rattled some of the rebels loitering within the ruins’ vicinity, Cere included; when she saw that the headcount remained the same as they left, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

“Cal, where is [Y/N]?”

Silence. Cal’s eyes drooped, avoiding eye contact with Cere.

“Cal, where is [Y/N]?” Cere spoke through her clenched teeth while her fists shook with a confusion of anger, worry, and fear.

“T-This…” Cal stammered, unfolding his fingers to show the bracelet to Cere, which she instantly recognizes to be yours.

“That’s all they found?” the woman’s voice cracked.

Cere covered her gaping mouth with trembling hands, in full shock of the discovery, and her breathing became shaky. Her hands fell to her chest, as if her heart’s about to burst through her ribcage. Eventually, Merrin and Greez were drawn to the scene, quickly, the Nightsister spotted the trinket in Cal’s hand; she held her gasp and her eyebrows furrowed, she brought her hands to her mouth but they stopped at her chest.

Greez worriedly uttered your name.

Cal was given time to be alone. He stayed in one of the chambers of the temple that served as a sleeping quarters. For the rest of the day, Cal was exempted from strategy conferences by the grace of the empathetic Jax. The grief-stricken Jedi never let go of your bracelet, however, he was unresponsive even to the little boy staring at him as he sits on the floor in the far corner of the room.

BD-1 chirps and beeps from time to time, trying to fish a word out of Cal, but he would speak very little.

“She’s not gone, BD… I know it. So, why don’t they believe me? They look like they don’t,” Cal’s eyes trailed, aligning it with BD who’s nestled on the space between his crossed legs. “I’m not crazy, aren’t I?”

The little droid shook its head in reply, BD-1 nudged your bracelet with his head’s visor, followed by a sad, long beep that faded out. The hours felt like only minutes to the boy, he leaned his head against the cold, cobblestone wall and eventually dozed off.

That night, Cere personally went to the Cal’s room with a tray of food. Cal has lost track of the time that he didn’t wake in time for dinner. It was BD-1 who sensed Cere coming into the room, a quiet chirp emitted from the droid, and the woman carefully walked into his bedroom to set the tray down on a podium. Even upon her presence, Cal didn’t wake up; Cere’s eyes wandered to his open hand, one cord of the bracelet dangles out of his palm. She took a deep sigh and didn’t bother waking up to remind him to eat.

“Keep an eye out for him, BD, please…” she softly pleaded and then left. “And tell him to eat when he wakes.”

A good chunk of minutes passed after she left the room and Cal finally wakes. He blinks several times until his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room in the moonless night; the first thing he notices is the power lamp sitting next to his futon built from straw, animal hide, and mismatched pieces of cloth sewn together.

“Hey, BD… dozed for a long time, haven’t I?”

“Boo!” BD nodded and then gestured to the tray that Cere had left.

Cal’s stomach ferociously growled when his nostrils flared upon picking up the scent of the food—albeit having gone cold for a time. The rations weren’t exactly a culinary art, neither was it a cuisine, but it was enough to sate an empty stomach—the adrenaline from earlier had dulled Cal of his senses and awareness of the goings-on in his body, only then was he starting to realize just how hungry he is.

Cere had sneakily doubled the servings for each food type she’s prepared for Cal: three scoops of Lemus corn, a bowl of bone broth nearly filled to the brim, and two turkey drumsticks—instead of one as imposed by Jax to conserve rations per headcount.

“Looks like the fighters must’ve looted the Imps’ storehouse, huh?”

“Woo!”

The Jedi scrambled towards the food and helped himself, however, he didn’t exactly scarf down whatever’s on the platter. He only ate what he wanted and had some leftovers. He dismissed it and returned the tray on the podium.

—–

The Inquisitors, Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother, charted a course to one of the Imperial medical outposts and also their satellite fortress—a smaller likeness of their stronghold like that of the one in Nur—in Mons Golotha, a moon situated in the Outer Rim.

“We are bound to Mons Golotha in T-Minus 35 minutes, Seventh Sister,” reported the command ship’s admiral.

“Good, have them prepare a medical capsule for the bodies we’ve recovered—for immediate transfer.”

The admiral bowed in compliance and returned to overseeing the cadets on their computers.

The pair strode in exit of the bridge and to the command ship’s cramped medical bay. The Fifth Brother sensed the Mirialan’s thoughts dwelling on you.

“What’s on your mind, Sister?”

“The girl’s an intriguing subject. She’s going to be very busy in her interrogation when she wakes,”

“If she wakes,” reiterated the Fifth Brother.

There was silence between them as they marched through the corridors. Crew members avoid eye contact as much as possible from the Inquisitors in any way doable—tipping the rims of their uniform caps downwards so their eyes are obscured, others would maintain eye contact while speaking even though they caught the Seventh Sister giving them a passing glance when she entered their periphery.

The pair didn’t mind their fear of them, it was insignificant of them to pick up every single thought and feeling flooding this corridor.

Upon their arrival to the moon, Mons Golotha, they were instantly given confirmation to land and instructed whoever’s capable to transfer the patients from the medical bay to the shuttle for their descent to the surface. A couple of medical specialists assigned in the medbay helped in settling both you and the Second Brother in your own medical capsules, the 2-1B medical droid meticulously configured the control panels of both pods to the optimum setting for each one’s survival from the descent until the complete transfer.

From one medical specialist to another, you and the Second Brother were handed over. While being escorted to your rooms, the doctors and nurses were performing their SOPs in bringing in emergency patients.

“Both of them are in a vegetative state, but he’s in a more critical state. I want an operating table prepped for him and a Bacta tank filled to the brim—infused with antibiotics for his second to third degree burns. This surgery is strongly required pre-Bacta treatment.” Barked one of the doctors who led the way while the Inquisitor pair flanked them.

“The girl’s vitals are stable. I have a heartbeat! Blood pressure is low though, she’s suffering from minor concussions and burns,” diagnosed a second doctor who stood close to your own gurney. “Prepare a Bacta tank for her as well, infuse it with a mild painkiller and antibiotics for her burns so they won’t infect and blister.”

The nurses rushed to comply with the doctors’ orders. Your doctor was astounded with your body’s physical resilience, he wagered it was your fight-or-flight response or your self-preservation instincts despite lying down on the brink of unconsciousness—seconds before the Fifth Brother picked you up and spotted you. He may have not seen what happened to you, but he was sure that you were a fighter—perhaps even more of a fighter than the Second Brother, dare he thinks!

“Alright now, you little darling, let’s get you patched up.”

The female nurses strip you off of your soiled and scorched clothes, washed off the grime and soot that stuck to your skin and face, and attached the apparatus necessary for your body before submerging you to the vat of Bacta.

“How long will they be submerged?” asked the Fifth Brother to the Second Brother’s attending physician.

“That depends on their case, really. In his case, since he’s the most severely injured, it may take him weeks to recover fully—better if he regains consciousness in the middle of his treatment,”

“And…” the gray humanoids jerks his head to you in the tank. “What of her?”

“Well, evidently, her wounds are less fatal compared to the other patient. However, we are detecting some signs of internal bleeding. Recovery may take weeks as well, but perhaps it’ll be shorter for her.”

“Will she have regained her strength when she wakes up?” the Mirialan interjected.

“All of that will be determined on the amount of time she’ll use for rest and recovery,”

The Mirialan hummed and dismissed herself to the doctors. She contacted the Grand Inquisitors in private, reporting the diagnoses of the doctors for both you and the Second Brother, and your involvement with the rebel cell that they’ve encountered in Pevera.

“We found one of the Jedi helping the rebels, m’lord,” reported the Seventh Sister. “But she’s still being taken care of here.”

“Good, let her body relish the remainder of her days where she will not yet feel any pain and anguish,” the Grand Inquisitor snarled through the small hologram projection on the Seventh Sister’s holodisk. “She will answer to us the moment she opens her eyes.”

“The girl is a survivor—a better one than the Second Brother, he didn’t have it easy. I sense something in her, something familiar,”

“Oh? How intriguing,” the Grand Inquisitor took the bait. “I should like to hear what you have to say about this girl, Seventh Sister.”

“Yes, m’lord,”

“See to it that she recovers in her treatment, she has a lot to answer for us,” the Grand Inquisitor added before his hologram fizzled out.

The doctors and their companion medical droids worked on the Second Brother’s surgery meticulously and tirelessly. They picked up a pulse from him and then began their procedure. It was a gruesome image, even for the droids.

For one, a large patch of burnt flesh stands out from the Second Brother’s scarred, olive skin. It covered his left shoulder down to the left half of his torso. Shards and portions of his clothing—both the undershirt and the armor plates—have melted and stuck to his skin, tools were required to separate debris from the flesh. A string of viscous pus connected the removed shrapnel and his blistering, black and red skin. Bodily fluids oozed out from every orifice conceivable on his wounds—throughout the operation, he’s partially conscious, flinching on particular moments where the droids would prod their syringes and quite-delicate mandibles on his skin.

“I sense his hate, even in his dormant state,” the Fifth Brother commented as they watch the operation.

“Likewise. Last I heard, these two were fighting. I’m certain he’ll be most hostile towards her,”

“I checked the database,” the Fifth Brother huffed, and a curious Seventh Sister craned her head to face him. “I found her in the records: [Y/N] [L/N]. Another Jedi survivor, in hiding until she apparently joined the rebels with the other Jedi—Cere Junda and Cal Kestis—and then the Second Brother engaged her while trying to infiltrate the stronghold with the rebels.”

“They’re all the same,” the Mirialan scoffed.

The Inquisitors watched the doctors do their work until the surgeons have finished their job on the Second Brothers and then he was dropped into the tank. The two of you were being observed by the Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother, she watched the two of you bobbing in the liquid substance like apples in a bucket.

“Doctor, do whatever it takes to speed up the girl’s recovery period. We want her conscious as soon as possible,”

“B-But… Seventh Sister, we haven’t even carefully observed her wounds and their fatalities on her body!”

“Unless you want to be the one strapped to the Imperial torture chair, I suggest you do your job faster,”

“Y-Yes… m-madam.”

The Fifth Brother has gotten the hint of the Seventh Sister’s other plans for you. He’s been sensing it running in her mind ever since.

“Do you think she’ll get the Grand Inquisitor’s attention—even Lord Vader?”

The Mirialan girl turned to the gray humanoid, having to tilt her head back to emphasize their height difference, she smirked.

“I don’t doubt it,”

“And if she refuses?”

The smirked retained. Seventh Sister seemed to be amused to answer his question.

“Well, I think we can persuade her,” she pans her head to your tank: sections of hair floating about like soft tendrils, closed eyes yet bursting with life the open they shoot open, and a weakened spirit that she perceives as a blank slate. “One way or another.”

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