#then it had a comment seeing someone did it without prep and any knowledge and got 80%

[moominmanoneandonly]

My most important exam is tomorrow.

I hope everything goes great.

Pray for me

[isthisthingeven0n]

knowing you : s.r

spencer has been a regular at your cafe for a few months, and after working up the courage to ask you on a date he disappears out of the blue without an explanation. (2.4k)

knowing you / forgetting you / remembering you / with or without you / starting over, with you 

There were elements to your job that you had a love/hate relationship with. The mornings where you woke up before the sun fully had, dealing with rude customers deprived of their first dose of caffeine along with the pseudonyms they provide you with (which you’ve learned you can’t always yell out as the elders freak out.) And lastly, your staff (but they tended to lean heavier on the love side of things.)

Yet, amongst all of it, you still managed to smile by the time you closed up in the evening. You adored your little cafe, though it was never heaving with people, it was comfortable.

“Hey, look who��s hovering outside.” Your colleague, Maggie nudges you playfully as you glance over the counter to the large window filled with your menu written in calligraphy.

And standing in front of it, the quiet smart guy you’ve grown fond of; Spencer.

A smile grows across your face, but you hide your head in the steam that rises from the milk for a second. “It’s been what, two days since he was last here?” Maggie quips, waiting for you to comment.

“Everyone’s gotta get coffee somewhere, Mags.” You remind her, brushing it off.

Spencer was a customer at the end of the day, just like everyone else. Just because he came to your cafe doesn’t mean he’s here for anything more than his double espresso and a blueberry muffin. Even if your heart wished it could be more.

Pushing open the door, the little bell sounds and Spencer looks up before smiling over to you. “Morning, Spencer.” You beam as you lean across the counter as Spencer eyes up the various pastries and paninis you had to offer this morning.

“Hi,” Spencer speaks quietly, clutching his satchel across his chest. “could I get a double espresso and two muffins, please?”

“A double?” Maggie pitches in, and Spencer looks over to your colleague who stands beside you, holding back her tongue as Spencer nods. 

“Caffeine stimulates a similar effect as the stress hormone cortisol, which is secreted in large amounts after an hour or two of waking up in the morning. It takes on the form of waking you up, making you believe you need the caffeine as, without it, you can have stomach aches, headaches and trembles.” Spencer rambles, and you nod in appreciation for the knowledge. “And I prefer a double.”

“Guess you like strong coffee, then.” Maggie mutters, giving you the eye as you smile to yourself.

Turning around you carry on prepping the machine as the espresso drips into the paper cup. “Two muffins, huh? Saving one for later?” You chuckle as you pick the two freshest muffins out that are still warm from the oven.

And then you hear it, Spencer’s awkward chortle that causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach and rise to your throat.

Swallowing the butterflies back down, you place the box onto the counter alongside his coffee, his name written across it with a smiley face.

“Well, I wanted to take one for my friend, Garcia. She’s been by here before, I don’t know if you’d remember her?” Spencer explains and watches you closely, noticing how your eyes drift off into deep thought and your tongue slips through your lower lip before you shake your head. “She probably complimented every single detail in the cafe, wore something colourful?” He adds, and suddenly your eyes light up as you remember.

“Penelope? How could I forget! I’ll give her a complimentary muffin if she comes in again.” You giggle, and Spencer’s eyes crinkle up as he accepts the small box and coffee.

“She’ll love that. Thank you.” Spencer states as he places the cash onto the counter and adds a few dollars to your tip jar- something you forget exists as it collects dust most days, but Spencer always leaves a three dollar tip.

“Thank you, Spencer. Have a good day.” You begin to turn away as you clean up the counter and coffee machine, missing the longing glance Spencer has before he heads to the door, but thankfully Maggie is watching like a hawk.

“Have a good day?” Maggie mutters, crossing her arms. “He was giving you the eyes, babe.” She comments, but you roll your eyes in response once more.

Picking up your tray, you move past the counter and over to clean up a table. “He wasn’t, Maggie.” You simply reply. 

“He was dear.” A new voice pitches in, one of your regulars, Annie. “Finding someone who looks at you like he does is a rare thing, I would know.” Annie’s focus drifts to the empty seat opposite her, one that has been vacant for a few months since her husband passed. 

“I don’t know, Annie,” You trail off, but some of your other regulars also comment on the small looks exchanged between you and Spencer. “Sorry. am I being interrogated in my own cafe?” You joke as three of your regulars laugh before returning to their own conversations. 

“Don’t let it slip out of your grasp, Y/n.” Annie finishes as she rises to her feet, leaving her mug with a few dollar bills underneath before walking out of the exit. 

Sighing deeply, you run your fingers through your hair as your mind goes blank, unable to apprehend how various people have seen you giving Spencer those soppy glances and the fact they might be reciprocated? 

You shrug it off, allowing your mind to return to work as another customer comes in, and your day can proceed as normal. 

*

“Bye guys,” You wave off your colleagues as Maggie closes the door behind her, leaving you to close up for the evening. 

It had been a fairly slow day, but Thursdays tended to be in the cafe so it wasn’t anything to worry about. 

As you walk around to the counter and bend down to collect the leftover cakes you hear the bell chime. “Sorry, we’re closed!” You call out, placing a few cakes away before lifting your head up to see a rather flustered Spencer. “Spencer?” 

Pushing his hair out of his face, Spencer sighs happily as he smiles to you. “Hi, I, I’m sorry I didn’t realise you closed at 6.” He rambles, a look of hopelessness in his gaze. “I’ll head out, sorry for bothering you, Y/n.” 

Spencer turns around, but before he reaches the door, you stop him. “Spencer?” Immediately, Spencer awkwardly spins on his heels, facing you once more. “Would you like a coffee, one for the road anyway?” You shyly suggest, watching as Spencer’s smile only widens as he nods. 

“I’d love that, I, I only just got back from a work trip and thought I’d see if you were still open.” Spencer explains as you push aside your containers and take out a go cup. 

“That’s alright, I like to do what I can for my regulars.” You chuckle, placing the cup on the counter. As Spencer reaches into his satchel, you shake your head. “Oh don’t worry ‘bout it, Spencer.” You tell him and Spencer pauses. 

“I have to pay you, Y/n!” He laughs, but you insist. “Well, at least let me help you close up.” 

“Spencer it’s fine honestly. You’re probably tired as it is.” You shrug him off, expecting him to just walk out after that. 

But Spencer isn’t like any other guy, he takes a sip of his coffee and removes his satchel and places it on a chair. “Where do I start?” He questions, rolling the sleeves of his purple shirt up to his elbows, prepared for business. 

The sight makes you laugh lightly, he looks adorable in every sense which makes you slightly flustered. “Well erm,” You look around, trying to think of an easy job that’ll result in the least hassle for him. “how about you put these cakes away? I’ll drop them off to the food shelter on my way home.” You explain, motioning to the containers and Spencer nods, taking his place behind the counter whilst you clean the tables. 

Pausing from placing the cakes into containers, Spencer looks up in awe as you carry on cleaning. “Do you have any flaws?” He thinks to himself, knowing the answer rationally is yes, as every human being has 10 design flaws in the human body, but you personally, he can’t imagine any. 

“Did you say something, Spencer?” You quip, lifting your head up as Spencer quickly shakes his head, missing the smile on your lips as you hold back a soft laugh. 

“Which food bank do you take these to?” Spencer asks as you move onto your last table, picking up your small menus and coasters whilst you place them onto the chairs. 

“Usually the one two blocks over, but sometimes I stop on the way to Gary - he’s a homeless veteran who camps out under the bus shelter. He’s a good man, but life hasn’t been kind to him.” You explain, thinking how different his life could’ve been. “I’ve tried offering him a job here before, but he shakes uncontrollably.” 

“That sounds like a sign of PTSD, Veterans used to go undiagnosed during the war and suffered from vivid flashbacks, trembling, nausea and intrusive thoughts. Most were outcasted from society, but expected to adjust to normal life afterwards which is what leads many to the streets.” Spencer explains, and once he finishes, you raise an eyebrow. 

“And here I thought you were just a pretty face.” You chuckle, causing a blush to cross Spencer’s cheeks. “You’ve never told me what you do Spencer, outside of drinking heavy doses of caffeine.” 

Spencer rests his hands out over the ledge behind the counter as you walk over, discarding the cleaning supplies beside him. “I work for the FBI.” He starts, and you nod along, trying to hide your surprise. “For the BAU, the behavioural analysis unit. We analyse peoples behaviour to assist in cases around the country to help solve crimes.” Spencer explains simply, not wanting to overcomplicate the matter as your eyes widen. 

“So you analyse people’s behaviour? Does that mean you’ve analysed me?” You slowly trail off as you move away from Spencer and sit down at one of the tables, suddenly feeling self-conscious as his eyes remain on you.

Moving across the cafe, Spencer pulls out the chair opposite you and rests his hands on the table, firmly clasped together. He doesn’t want to lie to you, but he equally does not want to sound like a creep.

“You can be honest, Spencer.” It’s as if you can read his mind as you give him those warm eyes that greet him in the mornings, making him sure that whatever happens at work, you’ll be alright when he next comes in.

Fidgeting ever so slightly, Spencer closes his eyes to allow his mind to focus- something that is usually effortless, but whenever you cross his thoughts they become scrambled.

“You are a warm person naturally, an extrovert as you invite people into your cafe. Mornings are a struggle as you keep a refillable cup by your side next to the coffee machine. I saw you refill it last Tuesday and it must’ve been at least your third cup as I was later that day. You like to please others, make them happy and by doing so you sacrifice your own wellbeing. Helping people makes you happy, but you don’t do it for selfish reasons which I like a lot about you, Y/n.” Spencer explains, and as he looks up you stare at him in a state of awe.

“And you got all that, from interacting with me every week?” You laugh lightly, leaning back in your chair as astonishment crosses your eyes as you click your tongue. 

“Yes.” Spencer curtly nods. “That and I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and 3 PHD’s.” He adds nonchalantly. 

“Just casually slipping that into conversation, Doctor.” You raise an eyebrow, and Spencer brushes his fingers through his curls. 

Tearing your eyes from him, you look up at the clock and swear under your breath. “I’m sorry, Spencer, I’ve got to go.” You tell him with a sad smile, not wanting this to end as he gathers his things along with his cold coffee- not that he’d ever tell you otherwise.

Spencer hovers by the doorway as you switch off the last of the lights and juggle the containers in your arms along with your keys. “Let me help with that, Y/n.” Spencer reaches out, his fingers gliding over yours as he takes the boxes painfully slowly.

“Thanks,” You mutter as you turn the sign over on the door and lock it behind you whilst Spencer stands idly outside, the temperature dropping fastly compared to the LA sunshine he had experienced mere hours beforehand. “my cars just up here, do you mind?”

Shaking his head, Spencer walks alongside you. It feels strange, interacting with him outside of your little bubble, but to him, he likes the chance to burst the comfort bubble.

Bearing in mind all that Penelope and Derek have told him on the jet home, Spencer places the containers in the trunk of your car before you close it.

“Well, this is me.” You rock back and forth on your heels as Spencer wracks his mind to communicate with his mouth. “Spencer?” You wave your hand over his face, and suddenly he snaps out of his deep thoughts.

“Sorry,” He mutters, tugging on his scarf. “Y/n, would you like to go out somewhere, sometime? I mean, I love your cafe, but a change of scenery never hurt.” Spencer asks, and he can see the surprise in your expression as you glance away to your feet. “If not, that’s okay. I understand-” 

“I’d love to.” You cut him off from his own doubts as you step closer and rise to your tiptoes, kissing his cheek. “Here’s my number, I keep some business cards in my pocket.” You hand him your card and Spencer runs his thumb over the embossed logo. 

“I’ll call you.” Spencer tells you with a bright smile, one that causes butterflies to swarm in your stomach as you walk to your car door. “Drive safe, Y/n.” 

“Take care Doctor,” You salute to Spencer before you close your door, driving off out of sight as a squeal escapes your lips in excitement at the thought of Spencer calling you.

Except, what you missed as you turned the corner was Spencer getting a phone call that would change everything for the worse, leaving you in the dark as Spencer answers his phone with his full heart now sinking. 

He’s heading to Mexico.

PART TWO

[alittleimagine]

just a favor pt. 2

derek hale x reader

prologue part 1

The Hale house outside San Francisco was smaller than the house Derek had taken over when his parents had left Beacon Hills behind, but it was still larger than you expected. 

Your ideas of San Francisco and the surrounding areas always involved narrow homes on steep hills, and to be fair the majority of your knowledge regarding the housing market came from Kira, but the warm-toned two-story in front of you had space to breathe. You were reminded again of Malia’s vague comments on Hale family money. 

Tearing your eyes from the house you looked over at Derek and the tense set of his jaw. You gave his side a gentle nudge with your elbow and took the bottle of wine you’d brought as a gift from his death grip. “Hey,” you said, voice low, “I thought I already told you everything would be fine.”

He watched you for a long moment. “Where exactly do you get all this unbridled confidence from?”

You smiled. Adjusting your hold on the wine bottle you looped your arm with his and started walking toward the green door. “Sometimes you just gotta fake it till you make it.” 

The look he was giving you had the potential to throw you off your game if you weren’t careful. You winked at him and rang the doorbell. 

The moment stretched out as you waited for the door to open. You wouldn’t tell Derek, he was a ball of tension already, but you had some worries. You weren’t a psychopath- a lot could go wrong and any sane person would be concerned, but you meant what you’d said. Confidence, real or imagined, did wonders. 

You had been expecting his mom or dad, but it was Cora who opened the door. 

Cora had visited Beacon Hills sometime during the summer and you had met when she’d arrived at a movie night. You couldn’t say you knew each other well, but she’d appreciated your knack for driving Stiles nuts. 

Rather than welcome you both in she leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Derek. The oversized zip-up she wore over a sports bra was very in keeping with what you knew of her. 

“Your girlfriend is Y/N?” She asked. It was difficult to say if she was skeptical or just giving Derek a hard time.

Derek sighed hard. “Clearly.” 

Cora narrowed her eyes, seconds ticking by, then shrugged. “That tracks. Come on in.” Derek glared holes into her back as she led the way while you tried not to laugh. 

“Dad!” She shouted through the house. “Derek’s here! And he actually brought someone.” 

You felt Derek huff beside you. “No, Cora, don’t worry. I didn’t want an actual greeting or anything. Just suspicion.” 

She grinned at him over her shoulder, ignoring his sarcasm. “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

You couldn’t help but snort at Derek’s unimpressed look. Sibling irritation had relaxed him though and he moved your hand from his arm to hold in his own (warm, calloused, distracting) as you followed Cora into what you presumed was the kitchen. 

There, cutting carrots at the kitchen island, was Alexander Hale. Derek had shown you pictures of his parents during your prep meetings, but you could have picked his dad out of a lineup without any help. 

It was like looking into the future. His dad’s hair had begun greying on the sides of his head and he wore black-rimmed glasses, but you could picture Derek in a couple of decades looking just like him. Derek was broader, perhaps, but you had to wonder if he’d inherited anything from his mother. 

Dr. Hale (you were sure to remind yourself of his doctoral degree in Gender Studies) smiled wide at the sight of you both. He set his knife down and wiped his hands on a dishtowel before rounding the island to embrace his son. “Derek! Happy Thanksgiving. How was traffic? Not too bad I hope. And this must be the girlfriend Laura told us about.”

He didn’t give Derek a chance to answer before focusing on you. 

“Y/N.” You said, holding a hand out to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hale.”

His handshake was warm and firm, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Oh, just Al is fine. None of the doctor stuff. I’m glad Derek brought you along. He can be so private sometimes. Gets it from his mother.”

Derek groaned. “Dad. Come on.”

Al was unperturbed. “The turkey is already in the oven.” He said to you. “I’m just working on some stuffing and a few things to pick at-” He stopped himself short. “Wait. Do you like turkey? We didn’t make a ham. But, we can have Laura pick something up on her way in.”

Before you could reassure him that you loved turkey Cora spoke up. 

She’d moved to lean on the counter by the cutting board and held a baby carrot in her hand. “Do you know if she even eats meat?” She took a loud bite of the carrot, reveling in her dad’s reaction. 

Al looked horrified. “Oh my god, I didn’t ask if you were vegan or vegetarian.” You could see him trying to think back to everything he was cooking for the night. 

“I eat meat.” You were quick to assure. “And I love turkey. I promise. I love Thanksgiving food.”

Though he sighed in relief the look of worry hadn’t faded from his face. “Are you sure? We can set something up.”

You could see Derek shake his head as he moved to take the wine bottle from you. “Cora’s just messing with you, dad. I would have told you if she was a vegetarian.” 

Satisfied Al returned to his post as the cutting board. “Well, just let us know if you don’t like something, alright.” 

“Don’t worry. I’m not shy about speaking my mind.” You said. 

Derek nodded his confirmation before crossing the kitchen to retrieve a couple of glasses. “Water?” When you nodded he began filling the glasses, remembering you didn’t like ice in yours. “Where’s mom?” He asked. “Is Laura not in town yet?”

“Your mom is taking a call upstairs,” Al said, focusing on his chopping while Cora continued to eat stray carrots. “Laura is in town, they just arrived, but they checked into a hotel. Said it would be easier for the night.”

You’d never met Derek’s older sister though she’d visited Beacon Hills earlier in the year. You did know she was married to a Noah with a three-year-old girl named Alina and a baby boy on the way. She’d been the one Derek first lied to.

“What about Malia?” His dad asked. “I know she said they were doing a Thanksgiving brunch with Kira’s family before driving out.” 

Derek nodded. “Yeah. They should be here in an hour or two.” He paused and wrinkled his nose. “Is Peter coming?”

His dad shook his head. 

You knew Peter was Malia’s biological father and Derek’s maternal uncle and the relationship there was strained on all ends, but Malia had been working on it. A thought struck you, but you’d address it later. 

“Why don’t you go get settled in.” Al said. “You guys are going to be in the room at the end of the hall. Malia and Kira are taking Cora’s room and Cora is sleeping in the living room tonight.” 

Cora scowled. “Just because I’m not dating anyone.” She had been living with her parents while she attended the UCSF School of Medicine for sports medicine. You wouldn’t have loved being kicked out of your room either.

“I know, but it just makes sense, honey. It’s just one night.” 

“I’m bringing a girlfriend next year.” She muttered to herself.

Derek mussed up her hair before gesturing for you to lead the way out of the kitchen. 

Your bags, small as they were, had been left in the car and you watched as he grabbed them both, shaking his head when you offered to carry your own. The sun was high in the sky, but it was still chilly out and you wrapped your arms around yourself as he dug through the car to make sure nothing was left behind. 

“Hey, I have a question.” 

Derek gave you a curious look. “Yeah?”

“Peter is your mother’s brother, right?” 

Derek nodded and something in his expression made you think he already knew where this was going. “You’re wondering why everyone is a Hale?”

“Yes.” 

He smiled. “Dad took mom’s name when they got married. He does lectures all the time on how weird it is that surnames are patrilineal and when the time came for them to get married he said he had to put his money where his mouth was.” He’d clearly explained this multiple times in the past. 

You grinned. “I kind of love your dad. Just saying.”

“Yeah, well, try not to get caught in one of his lectures.”

~*~*~*~

The room you’d be sharing for the night was a nice, simple guest room with a full bed and mostly neutral decor. While you peered out the window to see the view Derek stared intently at the bed. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” He said, making you turn. 

“Derek, what are the chances that Cora barges in here tomorrow morning? Or your niece?” 

He winced. 

“Yeah. it would probably look pretty weird if you were sleeping on the floor. I’m a whole grown-up,” you said, “I can share a bed with a man. Unless you don’t want to.”

Derek shook his head but said nothing. 

You moved to look in the mirror hung on the wall and check your hair after the drive. You could see Derek watching you in the mirror. 

“Does anything ever bother you?” He asked, sitting on the bed. 

You furrowed your brow. “Lots of things bother me. Sharing a bed with you isn’t one of them.” You could just make out the pink tingeing his ears in the reflection. “And having to spend Thanksgiving with a family that seems pretty cool also doesn’t bother me.”

Derek watched you a moment longer. “Have I said thank you yet?” 

“You might have. But it’s not a big deal. I’m having fun.” You turned to lean against the vanity and watch him. “It’s not particularly difficult to pretend to be your girlfriend.” 

You expected him to blush at least a little, but he just watched you. You turned and gestured for him to follow you. “Come on. I still have to meet your mom.”

It was easy to chalk any nerves up to meeting Derek’s mom. Talia Hale was highly regarded and it wasn’t difficult to see why. As far as you knew she’d left a long career as a successful business attorney to pursue her original dream of working for the ACLU, hence the move to San Francisco. She remained a figure in a number of charities and organizations in Beacon Hills even from a distance and Derek always seemed in awe when he spoke of her. 

So, the idea of her was intimidating. 

Everyone wanted to be liked. Of course you wanted your fake boyfriend’s parents to like you. 

[romanova-natalia]

Daydream Believer | Part One

Pairing: Daniel Sousa x Agent!Reader

Summary: Having been an agent for a while, reader is thrown completely out of her comfort zone when she meets Daniel Sousa - meeting someone from the past is never something she thought she would have the chance to do, but developing feelings for them? Maybe this would be harder than she thought. 

Notes: This is a bit shorter than the rest of the parts of this series is going to be, it’s basically just an introduction. But I really hope you all like it! 

Word Count: 1.5k

There were a lot of places that you could have seen yourself in when you had become a SHIELD Agent. There were outlandish ideas that you would dream about. Things like fighting an alien army, undercover missions against evil Nazis, there were lots of ideas that ran through your mind upon finishing your training with SHIELD.

For the first few years your dreams never truly changed, you were mainly running paperwork and communicating with field agents to help with their work for the first few years - but then you were approached and interrogated, that’s when you were brought onto the bus for the first time, and where you soon after met your closest friend; Daisy Johnson. 

When you first started running real missions with the rest of the team, your dreams started to shift. You were seeing things that you weren’t sure that you would ever have the opportunity. Things that, to the best of your knowledge, had been reserved for members of the Avengers - but you were facing them head on. So, your dreams started to become more and more outlandish. But, despite everything that you had seen, you never could have predicted or even dreamed of winding up in the past. But that was exactly where the team wound up. 

There was an adjustment period, one that you had made an off-handed comment about being “like travelling from New York to California but not the same thing at all.” But you weren’t particularly unhappy with where you were, you knew it was just something that you had to do for the job. 

Unlike the rest of the team, you hadn’t been on the ground in the 1950’s, rather you were helping alert the team through coms. It was one of your specialties, the certified president of the  ‘watching the team’s ass’ committee. Granted, it was harder for you to do this with the time period, you weren’t really able to see much. You’d offered to help on the ground, but Daisy reaffirmed that nobody felt one hundred percent safe down there without you making sure they were okay. 

It was enough to make you feel okay with staying on the Zephyr and doing your best from there - because you knew it was normal that everyone might feel a bit apprehensive in completely unknown territory. But, you were grateful that it gave you enough time to make yourself look presentable for the first time since you arrived in the past. Not to say that you looked awful, but it had been a while before you had thrown on clothes that you were actually comfortable in didn’t have your face slathered in makeup from a different century. 

As you heard footsteps and voices heading inside you switched the com-system off, sliding it back into the carrying case that you had brought it in and walking out from where you were to be greeted by an unfamiliar face.

You furrowed your eyebrows, glancing to the rest of the team for guidance before Phil took it upon himself to clarify. “This is Daniel Sousa,” He said, which didn’t help you at all, but you figured that he was going to explain who he was later - or… hopefully someone would explain who he was later. 

Regardless, you held your hand out, letting the man shake it in a proper greeting. “Y/N Y/L/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You said with a large smile. 

Daniel seemed a bit aloof about it all, clearing his throat for a moment before responding with a simple, “Likewise.” He could tell you were confused, you figured, since he clarified who he was. “I’m an SSR agent.” He responded quickly, your face softening a bit at the realization that you most likely had no reason to be afraid of him. 

You let your hand fall, finally, the smile remaining on your face. “So do you prefer Agent Sousa or Daniel?” You questioned, an almost playful tone to your voice as you slowly got comfortable with the man in front of you. Of course, you worked in a dangerous field, it would take more for you to fully be comfortable with him since you had no idea why he was with the rest of your teammates - but, you figured there was no harm in being kind.

“Daniel is fine, if you will.” He said, a small smile on his face before Daisy cleared her throat, drawing your attention to remember that the rest of the team was present during your little meet and greet. 

“Sorry… proceed.” You responded, turning on your heels to follow in the footsteps of Phil as he began to walk toward something else. Truthfully, you tuned out most of the conversation as your mind was rather occupied. Seemingly, your mind had been occupied from the moment that you had arrived in the past. At some point, you figured, it would be a problem that everything made you nervous. 

But meeting someone from the past certainly made you nervous. However, through what Phil was saying it seemed that Daniel wasn’t a threat - you figured that he must have been the man that Phil had told you not to mind earlier in the day, but you hadn’t been able to physically see anything - so you couldn’t be positive. 

When everything was said and done you found yourself walking away, hoping to get some sleep for the night since you hadn’t been doing that much since you arrived.

As you sat down for a moment, you heard someone enter through the door behind you - your eyes moving over to meet those of Daisy. 

“Hey,” You said, turning to face her as you finally slid your boots off for a moment. “Just thought I might try to take a nap, I haven’t really… slept much lately.” You commented, rubbing the back of your neck in what could almost be described as embarrassment, though you were sure that you shouldn’t have been embarrassed. 

“I get that, you know if you ever need to talk I’m here.” She said, sitting down on the floor in front of you, a content sigh emerging from her mouth at the feeling of sitting down.

“I know, I just feel so… I’ve been trained to be an agent, this sort of thing shouldn’t be affecting me.” you said, somewhat dejectedly. 

Daisy quirked up an eyebrow, “I didn’t know the SHIELD academy prepped you for time travel.” She teased in response, laughing lightly at the playfully annoyed glare that you sent her way. “I get what you mean, though. But it’s okay to feel weird about this whole thing.” She finally said.

You nodded at her words, letting out an exasperated groan. “Can I at least be in the field next time? I felt so useless… alone with my thoughts. You know how I feel about being alone with my thoughts.” You said, pointing a finger toward her.

“I’m sure I can convince them to partner us up.” She said with a grin, which grew wider since you smiled in response. “You can smile! I didn’t know you could do that anymore.” She said teasingly, laughing at the way you glanced at a pillow like you were considering throwing it. “But you did seem to be smiling a lot at Agent Sousa…” She trailed off, dodging when you actually threw the pillow her way.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I was greeting him!” You replied, considering grabbing one of the shirts you had scattered on the floor to throw next. 

Daisy wiggled her eyebrows, clearly amused by your reaction. “You know what I mean, I thought you forgot the rest of us were in the room.” She teased back, standing up and moving to lean against the wall, making sure that nobody else was listening to your conversation.

“I was just being nice-” 

“So tell me you don’t find him physically attractive because I’ve seen you just being nice, that wasn’t it.” Daisy interjected as she turned back to look you in the eyes. 

“Well- So? Lots of people are physically attractive- Beyonce is physically attractive that doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship.” You defended.

“Now- I never brought up any relationship.” She teased back, laughing again at the way you were glaring at her. “Whatever you say though… get your rest.” 

You sighed and stood up to pick up your pillow and lay it back down, laying down afterward. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” you said, the playfulness clearly laced within your voice.

As Daisy was about to exit she turned back around, “You know I was just teasing, right?” She questioned, seemingly satisfied by your nod as she walked away. For the first time in a while you had fallen asleep pretty quickly, though the sleep wouldn’t last very long before you were woken up again since you were still meant to be working.

But it was some sort of food for thought to you, the man who you had just met seemed like a kind man - and he was pretty easy on the eyes.

[ziracona]

claud/jake/dwight anon here! maybe i’ll just go by wisteria since i’ll be popping up in your askbox from time to time :D

shippy hcs would be wonderful! i was referring to them as an established poly relationship post fic; i actually saw the comment where you were talking about how claudette can fit into different relationships and thought that was so fitting (and such a testament to the beauty of her character, but thats another long winded ask to send another day). once again, thanks for putting out ILM into this world. it’s a joy to read, reread, and treasure <3

Alrighty Wisteria! 

Also I’m glad because I initially read it that way and was halfway to answering when I was like ‘wait,’ but my instincts were correct haha.

Claudette/Jake/Dwight is an interesting poly ship. It’s funny, because obviously both of them love her and she loves both of them. Just, I don’t think her priority has ever been having a romantic relationship, and neither has theirs. I also think it just kind of...wouldn’t occur to Dwight or Jake that that was a thing. Like, they know about polyamoury, they know it exists. But I feel like straight up there’d like, be an escape anniversary party or something, and she gives them both super heart felt gifts she clearly loved to make, and they’re both touched, give hugs, pass her their own sweetly made things, last little group hug, she’s like “Love you guys” and as she runs off to go give out other gifts to other loved ones, Jake’s super sincerely like “You too,” and Dwight’s like *looks at him, looks at her, smiles* “Yeah. Love you.” and she’s gone, and someone who they were chatting with before (probably Meg, Nea, or Ace) would joke something like “Why didn’t you two just also marry Claudette? You’d be such a happy trio” casually offhand, and they’d be like “Haha yeah!  ... ... ... haha...yeah.... ? (O_O);” type thing that would have to happen, because otherwise they just like, wouldn’t think about it. 

Once they did, though, I feel like it would definitely be the same event that clued them both in, so they’d both be like “Hmmm” at the same time, and pick up on that, and talk first, and be like “...Yeah, I mean. Maybe? But would she even be comfortable with that? Is it weird?” And Jake, who has the most secure identity in this area, would not really have any issue from the get-go and would mostly be like “Boy am I stupid for this never occurring to me once”. Dwight would need more time to think and talk stuff through and figure himself out, but is a lot more comfortable than he was. Claudette would be the last one. They’d both approach her at some point, and it would be incredibly awkward and kind of a disaster despite the fact they practiced and thought they had a gameplan, and she’s just like, “What? ...What?” and confused, and she’s a very worry-prone person, so she’d be like “Oh no, did I do something? Is this bad? Do they just feel bad for me? Since I’m not dating and they want me to feel included? Is this a bad idea? What do I even actually want?” and since she’s got the least experience dating, she’d take the longest to think things through. Would talk to Meg, and Quentin, and Philip, and her parents, and Ace. And they’d all help, but Meg would be the most help. Because Meg’s simple. She’d just say, “Well, do you want to be dating them both?” and Claudette would be like, “Well. I don’t know. I love them. And it might be nice to have a romantic relationship with someone I love someday. But I don’t know if this is how I want that, or if it would be good, because I have no idea what this would look or feel like,” and Meg would be like, “Well then why don’t you just like, go on a few dates/hangs like you’re dating, and see if it’s fun and good, or uncomfortable and bad, and if you three all feel like it fits and makes life even better, go for it, and if it turns out to be a mistake like that time Jake and I really thought we’d get some hella traction making out, then say ‘Well that was awful lol. Friends it is!’ and Susie and I will take all of you for drunk lazer-tag.”

And that works, because well, it’s more sensible than any amount of introspection without experience, or thinking, or worrying is. So they give it a go for like a week, and it’s awkward as hell for like the first fifteen minutes, but this is a trio of people who’ve known each other so long and been so fundamentally entrenched in each others’ lives for years, and love and trust each other so completely and deeply, it really can’t be that awkawrd, and everyone has prepped best they can, and kind of laugh at themselves, and just like, spend the day at theme park, and get food, and laugh and talk about life like always, but just this time with a kind of romantic shade, and it’s nice. And there’s a lot of days like that--not all so big, more just, at home, hanging out, doing whatever. And it is weird, because none of them has done this before, but. It’s also fun. And none of them have any weird kind of favoritism insecurities, because they were already pretty well and equally entrenched in each others’ lives before, and it’s fun. Jake is strategic because he’s kind of the planning mind behind this, and gets advice from Meg, and they marathon a lot of Leverage with only Jake knowing this is a sneaky ploy to help the other two get more comfortable, because there’s just not a ton of good filmic poly trio rep, but damn if that show hasn’t got a great one. 

I think the trial period just kind of hits the end of it’s week and Jake and Dwight are like “So do you want to keep going?” and she’s like “...Yeah. : ) “ and so they do, and it’s like that for a while. They all move at their own paces, and in their own clearly discussed (and, as well as they know each other, usually already mostly known) comfort zones, and it’s fun, and nice. It also helps that everyone else is not just supportive and chill, but most of them are like, goofily into it.

They’ve been dating for like, four months before any of them explicitly calls it that officially. But it’s cute. Jake wants it to be official so he gets people anniversary gifts and then is kind of embarrassed but more pleased with himself, and it’s very cute and goes over well.

Everyone puts in work to figuring out how to keep this healthy and good, since none of them had a lot of preexisting knowledge for being with multiple people. They all do that their own way. Claudette spends hours and hours doing research online and checking for tips from people online, and really works hard to be a good girlfriend, and it’s very sweet. Meg and especially Quentin both have no real idea how to help her, but clock a lot of hours trying and doing pretty good. So secondarily do Nancy and Susie.

I’m pretty sure eventually they’d have another wedding, legally official or not--and not because any of them really feel a need to, but because they think it would be fun and Claudette should get to dress up too, and tbh it would be cute. I feel like Meg, Ace, and Susie are major factors pushing for this. 

All of their parents think it’s a little weird, but their kids were missing for like 4 years getting tortured in hell, and they’re all reasonable people; they don’t say shit. Also, they all like all the other parties involved, so they’re like “Rat’s don’t understand these things” (this is a Muppet Christmas Carol inside joke I use all the time even though only like 4 people get it but I hope it makes some sense from context lol), but figure they don’t really have to to be happy their kids are happy and loved and doing well.

Meg is like “Fuck why didn’t we think of this. Why have I been supporting it when I could have nabbed her for me and Susie?” and Quentin doesn’t say shit but he thinks very loudly, “I know, right? Nancy and me are over here like ‘same hat’ fml,” but genuinely they’re very happy for the three of them and with the relationships they have. There’s just a lot of love to go around.

While there’s probably some kind a wedding eventually, definitely about as soon as they start dating, Jake and Dwight start calling her their wife. She’s flustered and like “But I’m note! I’m just your girlfriend.” and Dwight’s like “Yeah, but that makes it sound weirdly unbalanced,” and Jake who looked this up for this moment is like, “Well, by Quebec common law marriage standards, you actually are our wife--we cohabitated for over three years in the realm, so,” and Dwight’s like “whoa for real?” and she’s just like : o   But it kinda helps and she accepts it. The downside is Nea hears the story and tells Meg and together they start just fuckin calling all their realm friends their spouses goofily 24/7 when they want shit like “David, my wonderful strong husband, can you pleeeeease get me a sodie from the fridge? : D <3″ and it’s very funny but it’s also pure chaos. Like, so much more than usual.

[missmadjicthestoryteller]

I Love the Way You Live: Rey x Reader

Summary: You’re entranced by Rey’s mechanical knowledge on D’Qar, and she in return is flattered.

Characters: Rey x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k words

Warnings: mentions of a slight injury.

A/N: I hope you enjoy this piece!

Feedback is always welcome and is appreciated if you choose to give it! 

The rolling hills and mountainous valleys were laden with fog in every direction. You didn’t know where to go or who to see next as the Resistance was gearing up for more patrol missions to the Base - Starkiller Base. You’d dreaded the mention of the name of such a horrendous planet. After all, it was capable of destroying other systems! There was, without a doubt, uncertainty among the crowd of Resistance fighters surrounding you. Leia wore her outfit of choice in General attire, fulfilling the “Leader” role nicely, but you knew of her royal past, and her regality was still shining at times. You watched her carefully calculate movements and map data on the star charts day after day, but today seemed different - she was meandering around the base and patrolling different carts of items to be loaded onto transport ships for other areas in need of the resources. 

“Leia, are you alright?” 

You came up beside her quickly and efficiently. 

“Yes, but I have a bad feeling.”

“When do you not?” 

A voice came up behind you, and you sneered at the overly-sarcastic pilot - Poe. 

“Poe, Leia’s not doing well, and you're not helping,” you told him, sticking your tongue out at him in defiance of his words. Leia looked between the both of you, uncertain of what to say next or where to go.

“Can you both take care of the base here if I travel to Rugosa? I know it’s been a long while from the last time I’ve left the base, but we received word from our planetary scouts that, given Rugosa is the nearest planet, resources are dwindling for our patrols.”

“We will. I promise, Leia.”

You hit Poe lightly on the shoulder, and he scoffed at you. 

“I’ll have you know, if it was down to me or you, I’d be in charge.” 

“Quiet, Dameron, she asked both of us.” 

“Fine, fine!” 

Poe put his hands up in the air defensively before walking away. Leia then turned to you with a small smile turning the corners of her mouth upward ever-so-slightly. 

“I’d like for you to go to the docking bay and help load these crates onto the ship. Can you do that for me, please?”

“Of course, Leia,” you responded, and she pulled you in for a hug.

“Poe would think it's tough luck I asked you, but he suggested it earlier.”

“He did?”

“He regards you, highly, if it is any consolation.”

Her voice was warm and comforting as she spoke, allowing you to gain a sense of relief. 

“Trust me, Leia, it is. For what it’s worth, it is. Can you thank him for me?”

“Of course,” Leia expressed, and you smiled at her before she continued, “and I will have a team prepped with you in order to make sure the materials get onto the ship correctly.”

“Thank you, Leia.”

“You’re welcome.” 

You kindly thanked her for allowing you to gain some perspective in helping out, and as you left your post beside her, you made your way near one of the transport ships docked on the ground. 

“How many crates do we need, Poe?” 

Poe had come up beside you to help as a few pilots aided him in carrying the crates inside. 

“It says here,” he began as he checked the datapad, “we need to send them at least 10 crates full of food. Leia will take care of the politics, but we’ll help her with the materials.”

“Agreed,” you told him, nodding. 

You watched him move out of the way as one of the pilots, Snap, greeted him.

“Poe, we have the food.”

“Thanks, Snap, that’ll come in handy. Can you load it in?” Poe asked, turning to you for confirmation.

“Sure thing,” you told him.

Grabbing one of the crates and letting it hover over the ground slightly, you attempted to pull it up inside of the ship, but it got lodged in the ramp’s frame where it would bend to retract inward. 

“Hey, Poe I-”

“Here, I’ve got it,” Poe said, pushing the other end.

“No Poe, if you do that, you’ll push me backwards,” you tried to tell him, but he wasn’t paying attention.

“Okay, almost, and-” 

All at once the weight sent you flying backward into the ship’s main hallway, and you landed with a thud on your head. 

“Oh! Are you alright?” 

A higher voice came to your aid as the back of your head began to throb, and you silently wished you could meet the owner of the voice in better circumstances as she came into view. Her hair was tied in 3 ornate buns, and her attire was neither Resistance pilot nor assist to Leia like yours. She seemed new, as you realized when looking into her eyes, you had not seen her here before. Her eyes were brown, you noticed, but what caught your attention most of all, was the way her voice matched her facial expression. Her face was twisted into a pained appearance as she had rushed to your side quickly to check on you. She looked you up and down, examining you in a way, and you stared at her as best you could as she did so. 

“I’m… okay,” you managed to whisper, but the throbbing in your head hurt you. “My head just hurts now.” 

You tried laughing it off in a way, smiling if that offered consolation to her, but she still seemed worried. 

“You fell hard,” she spoke softly, and as if instinctually, she tried to place her hand where you held your head. It stung at her skin touching your scalp, but what worried you was the crimson color on her fingers as she pulled them away. Blood. 

“Oh… that’s not good.”

You let the panic show in your voice, which would explain not only the throbbing, but the sudden fatigue and why your body felt weak moments ago. It had all happened so fast, you’d become unable to register these sudden changes. 

“Hey, Poe?” 

You weakly called out to him and he came running up the ramp as if he knew something was wrong. Given his assumptions were answered correctly, he looked between the two of you, and slightly chuckled.

“Poe, this isn’t funny, I’m hurt!” 

“I know, I know, but I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where you need someone’s help.”

“You’re going to need someone’s help if you don’t stay quiet and get me supplies,” you told him, and he then silenced himself. As much as the both of you bantered, it was friendly and familial in nature, but you knew that he knew you meant what you said. You didn’t like feeling picked on, and he knew sometimes his sarcasm could be misinterpreted.

“Can you get me some supplies, please?” The girl asked, looking to Poe and slightly smiling. “Anything can help, but bandages if you have them.”

“I’ll check with the General, I’ll be right back,” he said, running down the ramp and out into the open to meet with Leia. 

“I’m sorry you’re hurt,” the girl said. 

She spoke softly and gently, and you were thankful she hadn’t just left you where you lay - she genuinely seemed to want to help. 

“It’s okay, sometimes things like this happen with Poe and I. It wouldn’t be the first time,” you commented, and she opened her mouth slightly.

“Oh… do you two know one another?” 

“Yes, but it isn’t anything romantic. He’s my best friend, and I owe him my life for saving me before I arrived here.”

You tried to move, get up, or do anything to get out of the slump with where you were laying, but the girl stopped you suddenly. 

“Hey, don’t move, you’ll hurt yourself further.”

“You don’t seem like someone with medical knowledge…” 

You were ashamed the comment had left your mouth when you saw her furrow her brows. 

“I don’t know much, but I know I can help take care of an injury. Years on Jakku taught me how,” she admitted, and you looked into her eyes as she looked at the floor. 

“You’re not from here?”

“No. I recently arrived, and I’m glad I did.”

You thought you were dreaming when her eyes met yours as she spared you no expense in her admittance of her joy. It was written all through her gaze if it wasn’t already plainly aware from her facial expression. 

“What were you doing on this ship?”

“I had a… feeling to come here,” she stated, looking back into the main compartment with the pilot’s controls. Having fallen in the main hallway, you’d landed right outside the control room where she must have previously been standing. 

“A feeling?” 

You couldn’t help the intrigue lacing your tone as you asked her the question. 

“I get them sometimes,” she told you, as you smiled at her in a sense of bewilderment. 

“Did you get a feeling I would fall right before I did?” 

“No, not quite… It doesn’t always work like that,” she chuckled lightly and that made you smile in hearing her voice returning to a more lighthearted tone. You were happy you could feel relaxed in her presence, as it was much different than you’d felt earlier in the morning. 

“Well, thank you for helping me.”

“The way I see it, I’m glad I was here. If I hadn’t been fixing the hyperdrive, I would not have been able to help.”

“The hyperdrive?” 

Your voice rose an octave as you placed emphasis on your bewilderment. 

“The hyperdrive was damaged. It’s a good thing I came when I did, or you would have been stuck here without a way to leave the planet.” 

“You fixed the hyperdrive?” 

“Life on Jakku, it wasn’t always easy, but I managed to learn how to scavenge.” 

Her admittance fell on deaf ears as her words went in one and out the other to you, as you still pondered how a young woman like herself could have made it this far in the galaxy with living on such a barren planet. 

“As I said, something inside me told me to come here. I’m happy it did… I love the way you all live, and I hope I can learn more from you all moving forward.” 

“When I get better, if Poe ever comes back, can you teach me a thing or two about mechanics? It’s amazing how you knew to fix it.” 

You were surprised by the courage of asking the question, having only known her for less than an hour, but the kindness she was displaying to you made you know you could trust her instantaneously. 

“I would love that,” she told you, and you smiled. 

“Hey! I’m back, I’m back.” Poe was breathless as he ran into the ship and nearly tripped over the compartment he’d pushed inside. 

“Good, I was worried,” you snickered at him and he rolled his eyes.

“Here, it’s some bacta-spray. It should clean up the wound within the hour.”

Poe noted this as he handed the girl the vial of liquid with a small dispenser to spray it with. 

“Thanks, Poe,” you said to him, and he nodded as he looked back to you, winking when the girl hadn’t noticed. 

You rolled your eyes at him that time, until the girl looked at you with a slightly uncomfortable expression.  

“This will hurt,” she said to you as she looked behind your head to assess your wounds once more. 

“It’s okay, I can take it.”

You tilted your head to the side to give her better access to the wound, and you couldn’t help the flinching your muscles did as she began to spray the liquid. It stung, but the pain ebbed and flowed once she’d finished. 

“There, that should help.”

“Thank you… I’m sorry, I never asked for your name.”

“I’m Rey,” she said enthusiastically. 

“Rey, it’s nice to meet you. Although I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“I’m glad to have met you, too, given the circumstances.” 

“Without you, I would have been a goner if I’d let Poe take care of me.”

“He seems nice,” Rey said, and smiled larger as she noticed you scoff. 

“He is kind, and he is nice, but sometimes he doesn’t get his head out of the cockpit.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Tell me about it,” you said, rolling your eyes and smiling.

“As I said, I love the way you all live, banter and all. Thank you for welcoming me here,” Rey told you, and you looked at her in all seriousness as you replied, “You’re welcome, Rey. I’m happy I met you, and we’ll always welcome you here. Always.” 

[theasteriae-arc]

THE INTERVIEW. 

( or, when sebastian met katherine. the discord thread between @epiitaphs & myself, feat. our muses squabbling over @diabolicaltendencies’ jim ) 

WHITEHALL, c. 2009. 

Her heels make an impressive racket on the tiles, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the corridor like there’s an army of interrogators on their way to sink their teeth into him. Sebastian Moran. The slick haired, sharp tongued politician she had never liked—not even before she’d found out Jim was screwing him. It was just a shame that the thick carpet in his secretary’s office—in his office—muffled the quick ratatat of those stilettos. Her war cry. “No. Excuse me, madam, you can’t- Have you got an appointment? You can’t go in there without an appointment.” Kate ignored her and opened the door to Sebastian’s office. “My name is Katherine Conway,” she said crisply to the man behind the desk. “You’ll want to see me.” And without waiting to be invited, she took a seat across from him, putting her handbag down, and folding her hands expectantly in her lap.

Sebastian is, as always, busy. Everything's manageable at the moment - neither the country nor the party are falling into the abyss, but that doesn’t mean that he's got time to rest. There’s people and policy to keep up to date on, and he can't afford to ever fall behind. Which is why he makes sure to keep a couple steps ahead of where everyone’s supposed to be. It's what got him through school and through the first years of his job. It's also what keeps him at the office late, though that's decreased over time now that Jim's around. Much more appealing to be able to come home to someone and not just the cats. There was a commotion outside, Sebastian looking up from his work just as the door opened. “An interesting opening statement, Katherine Conway,” he replied. The name seemed familiar but not enough to be someone he kept active tabs on. “Will I?” It seemed very much like he would, given that she had clearly decided to make herself home. A nod at the secretary in the doorway and the door was shut. “In that case, I suppose I'd like to know just what it is that you think is so important to require an urgent, unscheduled meeting. My time is valuable and I have later meetings, so brief is best.”

“Cancel them. I’m here to talk about James, and knowing him, that could well take all night.” 

And wouldn’t he just love that? There was a bitter twist to her lips as she continued, “He called me last weekend, told me about the two of you. How serious would you say it was?” He had a pot of pens on his desk, sleek and black with shiny gold hooks so that he could slip one into his pocket without fear of it falling out. She reached forward to take one, testing its weight in her hand, twirling it in between her fingers. “Serious enough for him to call, I suppose. But not serious enough for him to have told you everything, am I right? Didn’t want you to run a background check on him?” Her free hand disappeared into her pocket and came out with a card. Katherine Conway, Named Partner at Conway O’Kelly, an all-female chambers in Dublin. There had been a glint of recognition in his eyes when he’d repeated her name back to her and she was sure this was why; he knew of her work, not her history with his boyfriend. She’d enjoy telling him then. “Well, let me clear up some of the confusion. I used to be his girlfriend. And he wants to introduce you to the daughter we share. So, I wanted to meet you first, to make sure I was happy with that. Politicians, you know, they’re not the most trustworthy people.”

“James, you say? That sounds rather serious.” He made no move to cancel the meetings. He was fairly certain the first one could go on without him, though he’d miss out. But they'd cross that bridge if they came to it. If this was about Jim, he'd rather hear what she had to say, but he didn't intend to be pushed into any particular action. Jim had called her? What could he possibly be up to? “Quite serious, I’d say. I assume you read the news.” If she wanted details, she could refer to that. He watched as she took a pen, wondering just what her intentions where, what her connections to Jim might be. Sebastian didn't indicate an answer one way or another to the first question. “He’s told me more than enough and I have respected his privacy when asked to do so.” Jim’s privacy. Not that of others, but that wasn't something he was going to admit to. Not when she'd given him one small fact - that Jim had called. Fact 2: Sebastian hadn't known. Fact 3: Sebastian didn't know everything. 

She pulled out her card - as if that would give him much more information. It’d give him information that he could find, which was exactly what this meeting was not about. This meeting was about gaps in knowledge and Sebastian hated being on the wrong side of that. She was more than simply her job and title - if she knew Jim, that is. “Thank you for the clarification. It's much appreciated.” The thin smile on his face suggested otherwise. That she was the mother was a surprise, but she didn't have to know that. “I’d be happy to meet his child, should I pass inspection.” That information hadn't been as much from Jim. “Some might say the same for your profession. I’d know - did you look into me at all?” He really hoped so, or he'd be sincerely disappointed. She'd shown initiative so far and it'd be unfortunate if that ended up being a false lead. Time for a little bit more of a gamble. “He did mention you, by the way. As a detail. Youthful mistakes, you know.”

Nothing about her expression, her demeanour, changed. She didn’t miss a breath or move a muscle. Not quite relaxed, because from her posture it was clear that she meant business, but authoritative. Refusing to be riled. Did you look into me at all? Ha. She wanted to scoff—the Dubliner in her who’d grown up in the wrong part of the city wanted to spit—but she didn’t. Instead, she smiled. “Of course. Sebastian Moran, graduated top of his class from Magdalen College, Oxford. Fast tracked into politics, no doubt helped by his Daddy, who’s the Labour Whip in the House of Lords. Sebastian Moran who dislocated his shoulder climbing up the drainpipe of his family home during a scrap with a sibling.” The information about Oxford and his father, she could have got from anywhere. The more personal details, though, they’re not such common knowledge. She could feel his eyes scanning her face, trying to determine her source. “Your sister told me. Moira. Well, obviously. Alex doesn’t talk, does she?” Kate’s smile grew wider, more pointed. “Still managing to cause a lot of trouble up in Manchester though, I hear. Moira and I work the same cases occasionally—opposite sides, of course, but it’s always good to have a glass of wine and catch up. I’d heard rumours about you and James and she all but confirmed them, but he’s never been one for commitment, so.” The comment about her being a mistake more than stung, but she couldn’t let herself lose her cool just yet. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at his steadfastly across the wide expanse of his desk. “You’ll understand if I don’t want my family being dragged into the centre of a political scandal just for the sake of some fling?”

She didn't react, which told him only so much. Either it could be that neither of his hits had landed or that some of them had - and he wasn’t going to be able to tell which ones until she’d started on the offensive again. He didn't like her, but he had to admit she had at least done her research. Plenty of it, it seemed, given the much more personal anecdote tacked on the end. “A good summary of my CV. I’d keep the assumptions to a minimum, if I were you, though. I have an entirely different constituency from him - no handover there. Speaks just a little bit to his position on merit, wouldn't you say?” It was a blow that set him off each time he heard it, but Sebastian wasn't going to reveal weakness. “It's hardly surprising that it'd be easy to find inspiration in his work.”

An eyebrow raised as he stared, wondering just who she might have had access to - ah. Moira. Of course. No family loyalty - he should have known. They'd have to talk about that next time he saw her. In all, the story wasn't too damning, as long as no one looked too closely at how old he'd been at the time. The fact that Moira somehow approved of Conway was both a red flag and a promise that this would be interesting, no matter the way it turned out. “Oh, no, Alex simply has better judgement of who she speaks to.” The jab at Alex was another blow that landed. Conway really had done her research. A smile. “You know, given how close she and Jim are?” Just how far he’d gone since leaving Kate. He wouldn’t give her information that she didn't deserve - that Jim had been committed for far longer than the press knew. “I think he can be, with the right person. Maybe you didn't have enough faith.” The personal angle seemed a far richer vein for now. “I understand perfectly, though really it's up to you - when have I ever been implicated in a scandal, after all? It’d be awful to lose the reputation you've made, wouldn’t it? And I'm sure the scrutiny on the rest of your family would be uncomfortable as well.” It wasn't an outright threat. “All the same, I do understand the value placed on family - did Moira neglect to tell you about the times I've looked after her children?”

“I have plenty of faith, thank you. Actually, I found it was his that was lacking.” Tucked beneath the sharp collar of the severe white shirt ( court clothes; really, she should be at the hotel, prepping her closing statement for tomorrow ) was the battered gold crucifix her parents had given her for her First Communion. Her fingers tighten around one another in her lap so they don’t fly up to fiddle with it. No clues. “And reminding me about his lifestyle choices—" As if that was necessary. “—Won’t help you make your case, Mr. Moran.” Once upon a time, it had been James’s lack of conventionality that she had loved, the fact that he wore leather and make up and made her mother spit with fury whenever she saw them together. When had that changed? When she’d found out she was pregnant and the father of her child had fucked off to England, leaving her unmarried and in trouble and— 

Kate took a deep breath to calm herself, recentre her thoughts, and continued. “I’m sure you’re a fine babysitter,” she said stiffly. “But this is different. And the fact that you can sit there and threaten my family tells me everything I need to know. Unless you have anything else to add, this interview is over.” She pocketed his pen and bent down to retrieve her bag, getting back on her feet before she said, “You can give James my answer, and that is if he ever brings up introducing her to you—or attempts to do it behind my back—I shan’t let him anywhere near her again. We can take it to the courts if we have to; we all know who’s going to win.”

“A strong judgment, I'd say.” Perhaps not entirely unfair, depending on what sort of faith they were discussing, but still. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t. But one of my sisters is willing to avoid gossip about the family, and it’s not the one you’re friends with.” He’d really have to talk to Moira about tattling like that. It was annoying, more than anything, but all the same. She took a breath and - clearly, he’d set her off with one his remarks - this wasn't really how he'd wanted this to go. “I don't see how it's different. In fact, I'd say it's even more low risk than babysitting, given that all Jim has asked of you is an introduction.” He considered asking for his pen back. With her standing, ready to go, he’d have to take this seriously - more seriously than before. He might have told her not to be so sure about the outcome, but that would drive the wedge further between them. For Jim’s sake, he shouldn’t. 

“I know the statistics of custody awards, Miss Conway. There is no need to threaten.” Really, there was no need to resort to outright threats. “You do realize a court case would bring exactly the sort of eyes you’d like to avoid?" He stood as well, finally. “I appreciate how much you're willing to do to protect your family and I won't tell you how to do so, but I do think it incredibly unfair of you to not tell him your decision yourself. Not because I don't want to be the bearer of bad news, but because he - maturely - asked you for permission to do the barest minimum of actions and you're making assumptions based on a five minute interview that you began with no pretensions of civility.” She’d come in on the offensive and he’d replied in kind. "You don't have to like me - I hardly expect you would, but that doesn't seem like just grounds to punish Jim. Or your daughter, really, who I believe is old enough to ask questions. If I find that you've ever actually prevented him from seeing her because of me, then I really will take issue." Maybe a bit of a threat.

“Mrs.” She paused with her bag over her arm, glowering down at him until her got his feet, and then, even in heels, she was forced to look up. “I don't know what kind of woman you think I am, sir, but I'm not a single one, that's for sure. I've been married eleven years next month.” For their anniversary the year before, she and Richard had hoped to go to Italy. Perhaps this year, if they could find someone to mind the children for a long weekend, they'd actually make it to the art galleries in Florence, the catacombs under Rome. Maybe if Jim could take them ... There was no one else she trusted, but could she even trust him anymore? “You said you were short on time and I believe in getting straight to the point, so please forgive me if I didn't pause to make small talk; we're busy people and there's not a whole lot to say. I don't like to be threatened and that’s twice in five minutes you've threatened me and my family. I don't like you, and your attitude certainly isn't helping. How long have you and James been together?”

“Mrs. Conway, then.” They were past pretending to polite, but he might as well be correct. "Yes, that is what the records say, isn't it." Seb hadn't looked into Jim, but he had done some digging. Just to see what he could find. He'd looked less at her, still trying to keep from directly disobeying Jim's wishes, but the brother had been an opportunity. “I did, didn't I. It's still true, but at the same time you did say it could take a while. You seemed less bothered by time limits at the beginning of this.” Which meant most likely that he'd offended her. Which he'd been trying to do, to be fair. “Neither of those were direct threats, Mrs. Conway, but neither of us have time to argue semantics. You rudely marched in here, implied that I was courting scandal and have since mentioned cutting Jim off from his daughter as well as the possibility to take all of this to court. You're hardly innocent.” 

Here was the choice. They were at the rumor stage of the plan. Technically they'd been more or less together for a year by now, but no one else knew that. “You said you read the news - if they're to be believed, then I think you have your answer - that it all came together after his track.” A breadcrumb. “Moira would perhaps tell you that over a year ago, I was in charge of driving him to and from one of our family's gatherings.” And another breadcrumb dropped. If she wanted to pick them up, follow the trail, she could. Everything he'd said was true in its own way. The interpretation was up to her.

One of Kate's eyebrows went up. “If all I was interested in was second-hand gossip and the suppositions of the press,” she said coolly. “Do you think I'd be here? No. So, it doesn't take an Oxford-educated intellect to infer that what I would like to hear is the truth, straight from the horse's mouth, as it were. An alien concept to you maybe, but I’ll wait if I have to.” And so saying, she slipped out of her coat and sat back down, making a show of settling in for a long stalemate. “How did a politician and a musician who has publicly lambasted him on more than one occasion become a serious item?” Her tone was cold, but she was genuinely curious. Not so much in the how, though, more the, why this man, James? What the hell does someone like you see in him?

That had gotten her back, at least. Sebastian sat as well. “I haven’t lied to you, Mrs Conway,” he replied. He had perhaps misrepresented the truth, omitted, assumed, but he hadn't outright lied just yet. And sure, he'd threatened too, but only vaguely. “And did you ask Jim for the truth?” That was - though perhaps a bit of an attack - mostly just curiosity. “Or is he next? Making sure we can't coordinate our stories?” That was an unfair accusation, but he saw no reason to play fair with her. He shrugged, seemingly relaxed. “Maybe it's the public lambasting that makes it fun,” he replied, trying to think of just what he could or should tell her. She didn't deserve the details of their relationship - certainly no more than the general public did. “As much as it may shock you, we get along well. I think we represent a bit of a challenge to each other, and that's what keeps things interesting.”

TO BE CONTINUED ... 

[the-mill-kat]

Unshaken Chapter VI

Arthur Morgan x Reader (18+) Slow Burn

Posted March 29, 2020

Thank y’all so much for 250+ followers, that is amazin’!!!!! I hope you enjoy Chapter 6 of Unshaken, and please ***like/comment/reblog*** it means so much to me!

(Drawing specially requested/Art Credit: tylerzart)

You save a mysterious man who is dying on a mountain. Finding out he has Tuberculosis, you use your knowledge and skills with herbs and natural remedies to save him from death and help nurse him back to health. As he slowly starts to recover, you can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Why had you found him the way that you did, beaten and ill? Only time, patience … and perhaps love … will tell.

I hate them, every outlaw out there.

The words rang in his head, and Arthur didn’t know how to react. He was almost nervous by the tension he felt rising between them now, but the feeling was only one-sided on his part.

She was completely unaware of the conflicting thoughts he was having now from those words. She had taken him in, nursed him back to health, and all the while she had never known who he was … what he was.

Murderers, thieves … outlaws. They had stolen her mother from her, someone close to her heart. Was he any different from them?

He understood her pain, the loss she felt for having lost someone she loved.

Not knowing how to react or what else to do, he continued rubbing his hand up and down her back in an effort to try and comfort her. “I’m truly sorry, Y/N. No one deserves to go through somethin’ like that.”

She let out a little sniff as she raised her head to look at him, wiping at her eyes and cheeks to get rid of the wet tears that had escaped. “You … You said you know how it feels to lose someone, Arthur.” Her sad eyes looked up at his, “Who did you lose?”

Arthur tensed.

He hadn’t been prepared for that question.

He was unable to figure out how to answer her, not without revealing himself and who he truly was.

He’d lost so many people. His entire gang, his family, either lost or dead. But he couldn’t tell her about any of them. He couldn’t reveal the people he’d lost without risking her recognizing any of those names and finding out who he’d been. He wasn’t sure if she even actually knew any of them, but he didn’t want to take that chance.

Besides, it wasn’t like he could’ve gone back to that life now. His old life was gone, and there was nowhere else to go.

But still … what the hell could he possibly say?

Now that he knew what she’d gone through, there was no damn way he was going to let her know what he’d been. She’d been through enough, there was no sense in allowing her to find out who he truly was, all the things he’d done. After all the care she had shown him she deserved to know him as a normal man.

So that’s who he was going to be.

He thought about Hosea, he thought about Dutch, he thought about the rest of the gang. He thought about Charles, of Lenny, of John …

Arthur lowered his eyes to the ground, emotion nearly tearing through him. “I lost a family,” his voice was hoarse, nearly gravel in tone, “they were very near and dear to me. Though we wasn’t related by blood, we stood by each other, keepin’ each other safe,” he lowered his lids, memories of them flooding him. “We did everythin’ to protect one another, no matter what damn mess we got ourselves in.” He could feel Y/N’s stare on him, and he turned his head to face her. Her expression was sympathetic, her eyes watering all over again. For him.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur,” her voice was cracked, as if she felt the same feelings that he did for the ones he’d lost.

He gave her a small smile. “I ain’t got no one now since you saved me from that mountain.”

It wasn’t an accusation, it was just the truth. He just wanted to let her know where he was in life now. Hell, he wasn’t even sure himself. His friends, any of them that were possibly left, he had no doubt they thought he was dead.

And John.

Arthur thought about the deer from his dream, about the fact that it had had John’s eyes. That it had turned away from him, heading towards an ominous storm.

He shook his head to clear the thought.

He had sent John away to lead a normal life with his own family.

Arthur couldn’t possibly try to reach out to John, not without risking even more than what both of them already had.

If he ever found John, there was no doubt him and John in the same place would attract dangerous and unwanted attention eventually. There was just no way in hell that it would ever end well.

Even though he desperately wanted more than anything to reach out to his brother, Arthur had to believe that John and his family were safe.

He had to let him go.

Arthur ran a hand through his chestnut-brown hair, squeezing the rough strands between his fingers. He grimaced, trying to focus on that small feeling rather than the pain that welled in his heart.

If he were truthful with himself, he wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to move on.

He was supposed to have died on that damn rock.

But here he was.

He had to accept the fact that he needed to make a new life for himself … one way or another.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You watched as Arthur’s face seemed to twist in pain as he grabbed at his hair. You couldn’t bear to see him in that sort of agony. Reaching out you placed a hand on his arm, trying to get him to let go of his hair so he didn’t pull any of it out. “Arthur, please,” you whispered softly. “I’m sorry if I brought back any painful memories for you.”

He just shook his head as he lowered his arm, placing the hand on his journal instead as he stared down at it. “It ain’t your fault,” he said roughly, “Just gotta lot on my mind right now.” He cleared his throat, then patted hard at his chest with his other hand.

You observed his physical behavior closely, then you stood suddenly.

Arthur raised his head to look up at you. “Somethin’ wrong?”

You shook your head, “Not particularly. I just need to do another check-up on you.” You turned away to walk into the cabin, smiling a little as you heard his disapproving groan. As you gathered all the supplies you needed, you glanced over at his satchel. Maybe he would like to have it so he could carry his journal around easier, you thought. If he was going to be outside, it wouldn’t hurt to bring it out to him. You grabbed the brown bag and stepped back outside.

Luckily, Arthur hadn’t moved from his position on the bench. After having heard his less than favorable reaction to your statement earlier, you’d half-expected him to flee, though he probably wouldn’t have made it that far. Maybe that was the reason he was still here.

Either way, you knew that he knew you needed to look over him. Professionally, of course.

Sitting back down next to him again you placed your supplies on the small porch table by the bench swing. You held out his satchel to him, and when he gave you a puzzled frown you said, “I just thought it would make it easier for you to carry your journal around in, if you’re going to be outside for the day. You can keep the pencil, too.”

Arthur gave an amused smile as he let out a soft chuckle. “Thank you, honey,” he said as he reached out to take it, bringing the strap over his head so that it was looped around his neck, the bag getting tucked securely underneath his arm at his side. Then he placed the journal inside the satchel along with the pencil you had given him.

You gave him a smile, unable to help but blush a little from his gratitude. “You’re welcome, Arthur.”

Once you had all the supplies prepped, Arthur cooperated throughout the routine. It was almost second nature to him by now, no doubt. The stethoscope, listening to his heart and lungs, examining his mouth and throat. You smiled at him as you placed everything back on the tray. “Everything is looking wonderful, Arthur,” you said in a cheerful tone. “Honestly, I’m amazed at how quickly your body is healing.”

Arthur shrugged, his big shoulders tensing as he lifted them. “All cuz of you, honey,” he said teasingly with a grin, his deep drawl sending shivers up and down your spine.

Again, how on Earth could a man possess such a voice, you thought. Whoever was going to end up with him was going to be one lucky woman.

You froze, surprised that that thought actually sent a feeling of jealousy through you. But, why? The man clearly wasn’t interested in you in any way whatsoever. At least — he hadn’t shown any signs that he was. Sure he called you honey sometimes, but he’d told you it was simply because of the natural remedy you had been treating his tuberculosis with. So there was nothing romantic in that word, therefore it wasn’t an endearment, right?

You shook yourself mentally, feeling ashamed at the horrible emotion. You had no right to feel jealous over him. He was gorgeous, you had to admit, but that didn’t give you a right to him, not even if you saved his life. “How is everything feelin’ right now, Arthur?” You asked him, trying to get your mind away from that state. “Anythin’ hurting in your chest or throat?”

Arthur’s expression lifted as he shook his head. “Nothin’, Y/N. I don’t feel any pain at all.”

You nodded, happy with his answer. “That’s very good, Arthur. I’m very glad to hear that.” Grabbing a small glass vial from the tray, you pulled out one of the small leaves and held it out to him. “I need you to take this now.”

Arthur took the small leaf between his fingers, giving you a puzzled look. “This looks familiar.” He said, holding the leaf up in the light as he examined it closely.

“It’s Hummingbird Sage,” you informed him, “It should help give you a little bit of energy today.”

He smiled at you as he placed it in his mouth, and you watched as the bob in his throat moved, indicating that he had swallowed it. “Thanks, darlin’.”

You gave him another nod. “You’re welcome, Arthur, I’m just glad you’re doing better.”

His sharp blue eyes suddenly narrowed at you, “What about you?” He asked. “Have you been keepin’ yourself safe from the damn disease?”

He was referring to his tuberculosis, you knew. From that first night, when he’d tried to get away from you in an attempt to keep you from catching the disease, you’d tried to assure him that you were taking your own treatments, giving yourself the necessary herbs to kill off any potential bacteria.

“Yes, I’m just fine.” You replied.

He gave you a small smile, his beautiful blue eyes softening. “Good.”

You returned his smile. “Besides, you shouldn’t be infectious anymore. The medicinal properties should have killed off any active bacteria by now, if my past treatments are anything to go by.”

“I’m human.” He reminded you, his deep voice amused.

You blushed, “Yes, I know, Arthur.” You said, entwining your fingers around the glass vial nervously. “But I’m saying that if you wanted any sort of physical contact with anyone,” your blush grew hotter, but you reminded yourself that you were just giving him professional advice, as a doctor would to his patient, “there’s nothing to worry about. In fact, Tuberculosis can’t actually be spread by mouth or any sort of physical contact. Only just the coughing.”

You fiddled with the small vial, watching the tiny leaves shift back and forth within the glass. “But again, you don’t need to worry about us. I’ve treated this disease before and our herbs have never let us down in keeping us safe.”

Arthurs’ blue eyes just stared at you, his expression one of amusement, “You are way too smart for your own damn good, woman.” He teased.

You laughed, and your reaction made him smile. Both of you sat in silence for a moment, facing each other as the bench slightly swung back and forth.

Arthur’s blue stare skimmed over to your garden, and he asked, “So, you grow these herbs yourself?”

You rubbed your fingers together shyly as you glanced over at the variety of plants growing together. “Yes, I … I take notes in my mother’s journal about them. Whenever I discover anything new, that is. Any ailments they may treat or cure, what sort of treatment they need, how to grow them properly, how to prepare them for use or consumption. You name it, it’s all in there. Everything she and I know.”

“And this journal of yours, you fill it out yet?” Arthur asked, his tone amused as he turned his gaze back at you.

You gave a small laugh. “More like a book now, really. I’m very lucky my mother decided to get herself such a thick journal. Honestly, she filled up most of it. I’ve just been adding what I can, including some notes here and there on what she already wrote down.”

Arthur nodded, his eyes looking down slightly has he took in what you said. After a while, he looked back over at you again. “So how long you and Austin been livin’ up here?”

You looked over you shoulder to watch Austin working as you answered, “He and I, we’ve been up in these woods for about three years now. We used to live on our plantation with our father before Mother died. But I decided I didn’t want to stay cooped up there anymore.” You let out a long breath, lowering your gaze to your hands. “Father didn’t want me to leave. After what happened to Mother, he was scared to lose me. It took a long time to persuade him, but he finally gave in, but he insisted that Austin was to go with me for my own protection. Even Austin agreed.”

You smiled at the thought of your brother and his over-protective nature. “They didn’t want it any other way, and my brother came up here with me. We built this cabin since the , and it’s truly been a crazy few years up here.” You let out a small laugh at the memories.

Arthur grinned at your humor. “So what do you do up here usually?”

You watched as Austin picked up a pitchfork to lift up a patch of hay. “We mostly get by on our own. My brother hunts for us while I grow vegetables and fruits in the garden.” Your smile faded as you spoke the next words. “It’s been hard lately though. With winter coming up in a couple months, Austin has been finding it harder to find anythin’. He’s … he never quite learned how to hunt or track, he’s sort of ... self-taught,” you confessed.

Arthur’s eyes widened at that, “So you two been strugglin’ up here off and on all this time?”

You nodded, hating to admit it, but it was the truth. “That’s why Austin was so mad when I took you in. I’m sure he never hated you personally, he just … he just worries, is all.”

Arthur stared at you for a moment, his blue eyes unmoving as he seemed lost in thought. After a few minutes, he finally asked, “Would you like me to teach y’all how to hunt?”

You jerked your head back over to him, your expression and voice surprised, “What?”

He looked over at Austin and back at you again. “I have a few skills under my belt, if y’all are interested in learnin’ how to track and hunt. Hell, I’d be glad to, it’s the least I can do to return the favor for now.” With those words he suddenly stood.

His action surprised you, but he didn’t give you any time to respond as he walked off the porch and headed towards your brother. What had just happened? You stood up to follow him. He was getting quicker on his feet since his body had been getting better, and him being a big man you already had to run to catch up to him. By the time you finally did he was already approaching Austin.

Austin noticed Arthur as he walked up to him and straightened up from the hay he was spreading on the ground. “Hey, cowpoke,” His voice was a teasing tone, but Arthur wasn’t amused.

“Don’t test me, boah,” he said, his blue eyes narrowing dangerously. He placed both his hands on his belt, then said in an amused tone, “Your sister here says you don’t know how to hunt.”

“What the hell, Y/N?!” Austin snapped furiously, a blush showing up in his cheeks.

“I didn’t say it like that!” You snapped back furiously, then stepped back. You brought your hand to play with your hair nervously. “Well, not exactly like that, anyway. I just — I just told him you’ve been havin’ a hard time with it because you were never … properly taught.”

Austin’s eyes narrowed at you, his expression still shadowed with anger. “Why would you tell him that?”

Arthur intervened into the conversation, his deep voice penetrating the air as he lifted his arms from his sides. “If you’re interested, boah, I’ll teach you how to track and hunt so you can catch more game.”

Austin looked back over at Arthur, his eyes nearly wide, his entire expression looking stunned. He almost looked like the young boy that was just told he was getting a horse for his birthday all over again. “You … you’ll what? You’d teach me to do all that?” He voice nearly sounded breathless, almost excited. He was clearly thinking back to when Arthur had shot that jackrabbit, the way he’d done it so flawlessly with such little effort. “I would — I would like that,” he stuttered, actually admitting to the truth to your surprise, again almost like a star-struck child. “When you’re better, I mean, I … Yeah, that might actually be fun.”

You knew how hard it was for your brother to admit to something like that, you thought, especially when it was about one of his flaws. But this could probably be a chance for the two of them to get along better.

Arthur nodded. “Sounds good, feller.” He looked around, placing his hands back on his belt as he took in the surroundings. “There anythin’ you need me to do here now? I need to find somethin’ to do other than lay on a damn couch all day,” he said, his voice sharp at the last words.

Austin looked taken aback, seeming a bit surprised that Arthur actually wanted to do some work. He nodded slowly, “Well, we need to catch some fish.” He looked over to the stream, “I was plannin’ to do it after this but I would really appreciate it if someone else did it for me. I really need to take the horses for a ride, give them some exercise outside their pen.” He narrowed his eyes at Arthur, “Do you know how to fish?”

“’Course I do,” Arthur said assuredly, giving a single nod.

“Good, cuz Y/N sure don’t.”

“Austin!” You snapped.

“Eye for an eye, sister, plus it’s the truth,” your brother stated, a grin stretching that stupid loud mouth of his.

You growled as he turned away, heading over to the small shack by the stables. He pulled out a large metal bucket with fishing supplies and a long fishing rod. He came back, holding the bucket out to Arthur. “Got everythin’ you need in here. Bait, lures,” he held out the fishing rod, “And here’s this.”

Arthur took the rod, but before he took the large bucket you snatched it out of your brother’s hand. “I will be holding this,” you said, looking at Arthur sternly, “I won’t be lettin’ you lift anything heavy.”

Those blue eyes lit up in amusement as Arthur smiled at you. “Alrighty then, darlin’,” his deep voice teased, “You’re strong, aint’cha?”

His comment nearly surprised you, you had expected him to protest you taking a share of the load, which would’ve annoyed you. But he hadn’t. He saw you as a completely capable woman able to carry your own weight. He was clearly not one of those high-society types, you thought, your heart lifting with a smile.

“Hey now,” Austin interrupted, “I ain’t toleratin’ any of that sweet-talk toward my sister.” His tone was light-hearted, but you could hear a trace of protectiveness underneath it.

You realized at that moment that that was the very first time Arthur had actually called you any sort of endearment right in front of your brother. Now that you thought about it, he’d never even called you honey when your brother was in the same room. Why was that?

Austin was right back to being his usual self again. “Alright, then. I’m going to take the horses out on their run. I’ll be back in about an hour or so.” He gave Arthur a dark look. “Don’t you dare try anythin’ with my sister, mister.”

Arthur’s dark brows furrowed, his expression amused at the fact that Austin was daring to talk to him like that, but he seemed to understand. Austin was just acting as a normal brother would. “Don’t you worry, feller,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact, “Your sister’s safe with me.”

Austin gave him a quizzical look, “She’d better be. Otherwise, I know she has her shotgun to take you out if I ain’t here.”

Arthur looked over at you and winked. His unexpected action made you blush, and you looked down at your feet to avoid those piercing blue eyes.

Austin nodded, as if he was sure he’d made his point. He came over to give you a hug, “I’ll be back soon, alright, Y/N?” Then he whispered in your ear. “Make sure he don’t try nothin’ stupid.”

You smirked at his words, even after a whole month Austin still had his doubts sometimes. You returned his hug, “Alright, Austin. Take care of Lily and stay safe.”

Since Butch was loyal to Austin, your brother often rode on Lily whenever he took them for a ride, knowing the war horse would follow him anywhere. It was better than tying poor Lily up to a rope and leading her with another horse like some kind of wild animal.

“You know I will. I’ll see you soon.” Austin gave you a peck on the forehead and headed towards the stables, waving over his shoulder. You watched as your brother climbed onto Lily and lead the horses away, taking them down a beaten path and disappearing into the thick woods.

“Alright,” Arthur huffed, “let’s get to it,” He grinned at you and started walking over to the stream with the fishing rod. You followed closely behind with the bucket. As you both reached the waterline, you set the bucket down on the large stump and sat down on the thick fallen log next to it.

Arthur knelt to the ground by the stump and reached into the bucket, pulling out a few lures and two cans of bait along with a can-opener. You watched as he got to work on setting everything up, tightening up the fishing line in the reel and attaching one of the lures to the end, his fingers working flawlessly. He made it look so easy.

“So, how long you been fishin’, Arthur?” You asked as he opened one of the cans with the small metal tool.

He looked up from his work briefly, “I was taught at a young age,” he answered, “Hosea showed me how.”

“Hosea? Who’s he?”

Arthur seemed to still, stopping what he was doing. Then a dark shadow went over his eyes as he appeared to get lost in thought.

“He was like a father to me.” He finally said, his voice nearly hoarse, “Took me in when I was about fourteen, raised me ever since.” He lowered his head, “I lost him not that long ago.”

You brought a hand up to your mouth, suddenly feeling terrible for having asked about the man. Arthur looked so pained now. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

He just gave a weak smile. “It’s fine,” was all he said for a long while, but his voice sounded far from sincere. “Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done.”

You gave Arthur a sympathetic look as he pulled some bait from the can and started attaching it to the lure. “I’m know he’s looking down on you, Arthur. I’m sure he’s proud of you,” you said, trying to comfort him. You didn’t know who Hosea was, but the man had raised Arthur from a child. And having seen the kind of man Arthur was assured you that Hosea had no doubt a good person.

Arthur looked up at you and gave a soft smile. “Thanks, honey.” After a long moment he went back to work on completing the task of connecting the bait to the lure.

“Okay,” He grunted once he was finished, standing back up to his feet, “We’re ready now.”

He walked over to the waterline. Bringing the rod over his shoulder, he swung the thing forward, and the lure travelled swiftly through the air, landing onto the water’s surface in the middle of the wide stream.

He playing and yanking at the fishing pole, cranking the reel every so often.

“What are you doing?” You asked, curious to his small actions.

“What d’ya mean?” He didn’t look back at you, his mind completely focused on his task. “Yankin’ the fishin’ line?”

You nodded, “Does that attract the fish?”

He looked over his shoulder at you then, a look of surprise on his face, “So Austin was tellin’ the truth, then. You don’t know how to fish?”

You lowered your head in embarrassment, shaking it back and forth in a ‘no.’

Arthur laughed, and his reaction surprised you. Why would that be funny? You narrowed your eyes, slightly offended.

“C’mere,” he motioned with one of his hands at you, prompting you to come forward.

You hesitated for a few seconds, but then you stood up from the log and walked over until you were standing next to his tall form. Arthur reeled in the line til the lure was withdrawn from the water.

“Here, take this,” he said. He held out the fishing rod to you, and you took it with a shaky hand. It was a little heavier than it looked, and you almost dropped it, but thankfully you managed to get a good grip on it with both of your hands.

“Alright,” Arthur said. “Stand right here.” He stood behind you and grabbed both your shoulders with his big hands, positioning you right at the edge of the water. His closeness astonished you. Did he even realize the blush that was starting to form on your face? Did he even register how close he truly was, or was his mind just on the fishing lesson?

“Now,” he said, his deep drawl firm, “Once you get a good stance, you’re gonna throw that fishin’ lure into the water.” He stood at your side then and imitated the action from earlier, moving his arms to show you how to throw the line properly. “Now once you toss it, ya need to let go of the reel so that it can unravel.

With slight hesitation and a lot of confusion, you held up the rod and snapped it forward, but you forgot to let go of the reel, causing the line to whip around and catch you on your thigh. “Ouch!” You shouted, grabbing at the lure that was now stuck on your pant leg.

“You alright?” Arthur sounded concerned as he walked around you to look at the hook now snagged in the cloth.

“Yes,” you said, catching your breath, “it just pinched me a little.”

“Here,” Arthur reached out with his hands and worked the hook loose. “There we go.”

You gave him a grateful smile as he stepped back around you. “Thank you.”

He chuckled. “Least I can do, wanna try again?”

You thought about it then nodded, smiling at him. “Sure, why not?” You tried a few more times, all the while Arthur mimicking how to throw the lure in an effort to help. Your throws were weak at first, but on your fifth attempt you finally managed to get a good toss and the lure flew through the air, landing out in the middle of the wide stream. “I did it!” You shouted happily.

Arthur smiled, “That you did, honey.” He came to stand behind you. “Now, you gotta pull at the fishin rod to get a fish’s attention. It won’t give a damn about the lure otherwise. You need to make the lure act like prey just asking to be eatin’.”

You nodded, then started yanking at the pole.

“Not so hard, now,” Arthur said with a chuckle, placing a hand on your wrist. “You gotta do it in short bursts. Little twitches here and there.” You did as he said. “There ya go, darlin’. Now, slowly start bringin’ the line back in, the lure will look like a small fish swimmin’ across the surface.”

You cranked the reel slowly, bringing the line in at a snail’s pace.

Suddenly the lure was yanked hard.

“You got one!” Arthur shouted.

“What do I do?” You asked frantically.

“Calm down, just start pullin’ the rod and reel that big sucker in.”

You struggled to pull but the fish was fighting you hard. How on Earth did such a small creature have so much strength? Arthur reached over to help you pull the rod back and you started reeling the fish in until it was at the shoreline. Finally you yanked it out of the water.

“You got yourself a Muskie there, honey!” Arthur exclaimed, his grin wide, his face glowing as if he were proud of you.

“I did it!” You said happily, all but ecstatic. Arthur helped you to undo the hook from the fish’s mouth and placed the fish into the large bucket.

“Good job,” Arthur said as he came back over. He reached out and patted you hard on the shoulder with his big hand. “Your first fish, and a big feller at that.”

You smiled widely, “That was so exciting, I want to try that again!”

Arthur chuckled, “Go for it, honey. You need my help?”

You thought about it. Arthur had used up quite a bit of energy helping you haul in that fish, and truth be told you actually wanted him to take a break. You shook your head. “No, Arthur, I got this one. Do me a favor?”

He looked at you expectantly.

“Go sit over on that log and rest for a bit.”

He closed his eyes in a huff, “Why did I get the feelin’ you were gonna tell me somethin’ like that?”

You gave him another one of your playful sad looks to try and appeal to him, “Please, Arthur?”

He let out a long, loud sigh. “Fine, honey. I’ll watch you on this one.” His words sounded stoic, not thrilled at all to be left out of the action. But he did as you asked, going over to sit on the large fallen log.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Arthur had known the woman was going to say something along the lines of ‘you need to rest.’ Dammit, he’d been hearing those words endlessly over the last month.

And honestly, why did he listen to her? He wondered that as he sat down on the thick log, facing Y/N so he was able to watch her fish. As he watched her throw the lure back out to the stream, he remembered the answer.

She was persistent, absolutely ruthless when it came to his health. Whenever he protested, she never let up.

Y/N cared about him, he had no doubt in his mind about that.

He couldn’t help himself as he took in her form, appreciating her body again. Damn, she was beautiful, he thought. A strong woman with a strong mind. He needed a woman like that, someone who wasn’t afraid to back down from him.

As she reeled in the lure and threw it out again, he thought about what she’d said to him earlier, about everything she’d gone through. The hardship she endured from having lost her mother to outlaws, moving away and living out here off the land with her brother.

He wondered who her father was. She’d said that she had lived on a plantation, and he wondered which one, if he would recognize it if she told him.

He smiled as he heard her curse under her breath.

Y/N was a damn god-send, he thought. She had saved his life, with no thought or worry for her own needs.

He needed to find a way to thank her. He wanted to help her in some way, to repay her somehow.

Arthur scratched at the underside of his jaw with the back of his thumb, thinking about how he could possibly repay her for all she had done.

He smiled to himself as he thought about her telling him about the white lily, her favorite flower, how much it meant to her. She’d said that they couldn’t grow in this area and that she couldn’t grow any for herself.

He knew what they looked like, maybe he could —

Arthur froze, a single thought sitting in his head. He immediately opened his satchel and pulled out his journal, opening it to another blank page. Without a second’s hesitation he began to sketch.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You huffed, starting to get irritated at the lack of any fish biting. You started to think that you were damn lucky in getting that other fish, let alone such a massive one. After about twenty minutes you reeled the line in, done for the time being. Fishing was clearly fun, but only when there were actual fish.

Turning around you walked back over to Arthur, sitting down on the log next to him and propping the fishing rod up against it. He was giving you a strange look, his blue eyes almost sparkling. “What is it, Arthur?”

“I … ,” His voice sounded rough, his eyes still having that strange look. He opened his journal and tore out a single page with a drawing on it. “I thought you might like this, Y/N.” He handed the paper over to you and you took it.

The sketch you saw instantly had your eyes nearly watering.

A white lily.

“Arthur … this is … ” You couldn’t find the words, feeling like you could barely breathe at the sight.

“This is so beautiful,” you finally breathed out. “Thank you.”

Emotion overcame you and you couldn’t control yourself as you suddenly reached up and laid a kiss on his cheek.

You pulled away to see Arthur’s stunned expression.

You were absolutely appalled at what you had just done. “I’m — I’m so sorry, Arthur, I didn’t mean … I — I don’t know what came over me ... I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Those shining blue eyes glittered as he looked at you with amusement, a beautiful smile slowly lifting on his face. “Is that right, honey?”

Then with that he leaned in ... and placed a kiss on your lips.

— To Be Continued

[harryandmolly]

Complicit // 12

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW (unprotected sex), the girl from Ipanema

WC: 8.2k

----------

Shawn bobs his head and chews at his lip. His smile is anxious, despite the elated, conspiratorial expressions on everyone else in the room. They know very well they have a hit on their hands. They’re too distracted by their own excitement to notice that the man who gave it to them isn’t all there.

Shawn finished Mia’s song when he got home from the premiere that night. The next day, without having slept a wink, he called the team to the studio. They didn’t change a single word or note before recording it. Teddy told him it’s the best song he’s ever written. Shawn thinks, for once, he didn’t need to hear it from someone else.

Shawn plows ahead, fixated on the idea of using the single as a surprise pre-album drop to boost even more interest. It has radio hit written all over it. He wants it out before the end of the summer. His label and Andrew came back to him with a new idea.

The song would make a gorgeous duet, they tell him. Bex is riding high on her album sales; featuring her on the single would be great for them both, the perfect crescendo. They could push back their breakup, originally planned for the end of August, to after Shawn’s album releases in September to capitalize on the public interest.

He readily agrees. Honestly, it’s a great idea. Bex’s vocals would be the perfect addition to the track. Releasing a single together now after going official for the first time on a red carpet at the premiere makes sense. It’s a solid strategy.

Shawn is vibrating in place as he listens to Bex’s isolated vocals that she recorded while rehearsing for her fall tour in London. They’re ready to be mixed with his. He knows he should be excited. This is going to work. It’s going to be the thing that pushes this summer over the top and makes every awkwardly photographed kiss, every instance of sneaking out of a hotel room in a cab so it looks like they stayed the night together, every night spent away from the woman he loves, all worth it.

But it doesn’t completely overshadow the fact that he’s releasing the song he wrote for said woman with his fake PR girlfriend.

Shawn drops his head into his hands and closes his eyes to focus. After a few minor tweaks, her vocals are perfect. To be fair, if he had to share this song with anyone, he would choose Bex. She’s an incredible artist and vocalist and he’s honored to share a track with her. But when he thinks about Mia turning on the radio in her Passat on the way to pilates with Silver, hearing it for the first time stuck in traffic on La Brea, he feels a little sick.

When the track ends, he sits up and pastes on a proud smile. Teddy glances at him. The rest of the eyes in the room follow. After a moment, he nods.

“It’s ready to cut. When can I hear a mix?”

+

Since the single would debut too close to the voting deadline for the MTV VMAs to qualify for awards, they decided to premiere the song live as the show opener instead. It’s a bold idea and probably would fall flat if not for all the “Shex” shippers that ravenously await any documentation of their relationship, but since they’re still the hottest couple of the summer, it’s just crazy enough to work.

At least, this is what Mia infers based on her knowledge of the situation and the fact that Shawn never mentioned he was working on something new. She figures compartmentalizing around her made sense.

Mia watches the VMAs with Peter on FaceTime. He took the night off from FaceTiming with Xander the TA and generously offered to bash the hell out of Bex’s red carpet and show looks if it would help, even though he knew it wouldn’t. Mia turned him down. He’s glad she did. Bex looks incredible and it would be hard to pretend she didn’t come to slay.

Shawn glows in a sharp white suit that Peter jokes must’ve been nicked from Silver’s closet. He looks tan and healthy and excited and he’s still doing his prayer hands and peace signs on the red carpet so for all that’s changed in the past few months, at least that hasn’t. Bex is in a gold minidress to complement him. They look like modern Greek deities. Peter mercifully decides not to comment.

She and Peter talk over the rest of the red carpet coverage with the exception of the stunned silence they fall into when Sophie Turner and Joe Jonas arrive.

“I still can’t believe you’ve had sex with her. She’s the one woman on the planet I’d bone,” Peter whispers reverently into the phone.

Mia relives the night in a welcome flash and hums through a smug grin. “I’m a lucky girl.”

She feels lucky right up until the spotlight falls on Shawn at the piano and he starts singing a song about a woman who makes him feel free, joined by the woman that represents everything that traps him.

+

The headlines haunt her. “So in love,” they extol, “You can see it in every moment of their performance.”

Song of the Summer! Shawn Mendes and Bex Debut New Duet Single at the VMAs

Bex and Shawn Mendes STUN With New Single in VMAs Show Opener

“Fuck off!” Mia shouts at her phone, not safe even from her Instagram explore page these days. She flings it on the bed and watches it bounce, hoping for a rash moment that it’ll take a dive off her mountain of pillows that still smell like him if she squints, and smash against the floor. It would save her from herself.

It’s not like she believes the headlines, obviously. It’s the mix of everything that’s come along with the song and her self-imposed exile from him that’s getting at her. 

It’s been a few weeks since she ditched her secret identity and only hours later asked him to leave. She’s been feeling twitchy. She’d love to blame it on the lack of dates she’s had recently, contributing to the lack of sufficient orgasms, but even she can’t kid herself on that front.

But the quiet hasn’t helped. August is always slow. Clients go on family vacations, not the kind they invite their domme to. She usually spends August in Italy with Peter, but he’s taking classes over the summer semester and is cozied up to his TA, so she and Pammy stare at each other for most of the day and eat Rice Krispies.

Despite her twitchiness, the idea of reaching out to Shawn still feels too much, too soon. She doesn’t want to call him again until she’s decided definitively how to move forward. Or if there’s anywhere to go at all.

Thank god she has Julia.

While many of her clients get busier in the summer with families or trips, Julia’s hefty international travel slows down in the summer, allowing her to hole up like she likes in her $50 million Bel Air mansion. 

Tonight, she’s coming out of her extremely luxurious cave and is inviting Mia with her for a rare outing. Despite the fact that Julia is openly gay, the media still doesn’t take an interest in any women she’s publicly photographed with, merely captioning them as Julia Granger and “female friend.”

The event in question is the LA Children Foundation’s annual silent auction. Julia knows Mia also appreciates the work LACF does and supports it financially, and so she invited her along. Mia, eager for company without a tail to wag, spends a full two hours thumbing through her outrageously large closet until she decides on a sky blue off-the-shoulder cocktail dress.

She forgoes the Frank and Ava necklace, just for now. She decides it’s too heavy for the occasion (in more than one way).

Strangers in the Night plays on vinyl. She swipes on Julia’s favorite deeply burgundy lipstick, knowing it’ll have her staring at her lips all night, which happens to be exactly what the doctor ordered on a night like this when Mia is so scattered she can barely pick out her shoes.

Gus stands in the doorway of the bathroom tonight, watching her with an odd sort of guarded affection, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t share his fatherly smile with her at all times, she’ll break down. She must look about as fragile as she feels. She resolves to buck up in the car so as not to let it affect her night with Julia. Gus plays a Dean Martin Spotify playlist and sings along to “That’s Amore.” She giggles and tries to harmonize.

Julia’s assistant Gracie is neat as a pin, waiting for her in the valet lane. Her legs are locked at the ankle and lengthened by a pair of Manolos Mia is sure Julia got her the last time they went to visit the flagship store in Chelsea. Her grin is wide and looks stuck on her face. Maybe her stranglingly tight ponytail is holding it in place. Mia dips her head and airkisses her cheek.

Gracie rattles on, prepping Mia for her boss’s mood. She had an irritating call from partners in Milan that had her on edge. Gracie’s been plying her with champagne for the last half hour since the start of cocktails. Mia nods patiently, wondering when and if Julia will realize how madly in love Gracie is with her. Maybe if Gracie ever decides to let the ponytail down and make Julia obey her for once, they can get somewhere.

Julia stands surrounded by a group of men in dark suits at the top of the stairs. Her hair is crimson and lying in soft waves down her back rather than up in the French twist she usually sports. It’s set off by her emerald cocktail dress and stunningly high black patent leather Brian Atwoods.

Mia squares her shoulders and waits patiently, with Gracie standing just behind, arms meekly crossed over her front. Julia seems to feel her presence. She turns her head, the chandelier of the hotel ballroom backlighting her aristocratic profile. Her voice trails off and her smile spreads slow and sweet.

“Gentlemen, that’s enough shop talk. My guest has arrived.”

They fall away. Their curious glances are quickly forgotten. Julia turns to face Mia as she strolls toward her, looking her up and down a little hungrily.

“You look lovely,” Julia breathes. They don’t touch, but the moment is charged and intimate even without a brush of fingers or lips. 

“Thank you,” Mia replies, a little hollow in its smoothness. Behind her, Gracie falls away with a sad smile.

Julia guides Mia around the perimeter of the pre-auction cocktail hour. They drink champagne with strawberries and whisper-giggle gossip updates about the characters they see at these events. Julia tells her about the affairs, the divorces, the bankruptcies and scandals that get trampled beneath the expensive footwear of the well-to-do, never to make it to the gossip columns. Some secrets are worth the price it takes to bury them.

The ballroom is sumptuously decorated, hung with lavish velvet drapings and glittering with dozens of chandeliers. Under her breath, Julia quietly mutters her distaste for the opulence of it, the tired tradition of spending as much on a fundraiser as what ends up being made from it. She voices her pledge to donate at least half as much as was spent on the elegant trappings, but is interrupted by a sparkling, loud laugh from beside one of the auction tables. Julia’s and Mia’s heads lift at the same time.

Bex appears taller in person, like she’s all leg. She’s in a glamorous red halter dress with a high bejeweled neckline and an alluring but still somehow appropriate slit up her thigh. Her hair is pinned up to show off her smooth back and the swallow-emblazoned hand that rests at the base of it.

He’s grinning at Bex as genuinely as Mia’s ever seen him. He’s in a dark green suit that makes his eyes look lighter, chestnutty even from fifteen feet away. His hand rests against her skin, unmoving but comfortably low. Mia studies it, waiting to see if his thumb caresses her in a silent, private hello. It remains there until he can feel her gaze. He looks up. His smile drops. Mia turns away.

She can see Julia is speaking to her, watches her smooth, rosy lips as they move, but she can’t hear. She tries to tuck hair behind her ear and lean in, blindly searching for focus, but it doesn’t help. She’s gone fucking numb.

Julia smiles a little nervously and tucks a hand around the side of Mia’s neck in a rarely public tender gesture. Mia blinks quickly and steps closer, pressing her hand into Julia’s hip.

“I’m here, I’m sorry,” Mia murmurs, dropping her eyes guiltily.

Julia doesn’t speak, just thumbs at the Van Cleef sapphire drop earring hanging from Mia’s ear and guides them through the loop of auction tables.

Shawn feels dazed. He can’t imagine how he even walked into a room without feeling her there. He feels like a once carefully tuned sensor in him is broken. Maybe it’s because even as he watches her from afar, he can see she’s not fully there.

Bex subs in for the rest of their inane conversation after he checks out to stare at her. She’s with Julia Granger, undoubtedly the second-most powerful woman in the room. To Shawn, Mia still ranks above her.

She looks a little… lost. Shawn’s never seen her look so out of place. Physically, of course, she blends right in the way a good courtesan should -- not overdressed, not under, not too loud, not too quiet, the perfect date. There’s something radiating anxiety from inside her. He wants nothing more than to cup her pretty face in his hands and make it go away.

He holds on to Bex a little tighter and laughs politely when he’s supposed to. He tries not to look at the escort formerly known as Penny for the rest of the night.

+

The driver doesn’t open the door for Mia right away when they park under the entryway of Julia’s palatial home. Mia glances at Julia, who’s smiling back warmly. She takes Mia’s hand and holds it in her lap.

“Was bound to happen sometime, I think,” Julia muses in a voice that sounds so much like Silver’s, Mia almost shivers.

“Hmm?” she croaks.

“I imagine your job to be one of the most dangerous I can think of. The truth is, you’re always operating right on the edge of love with every client. I’ve been with you long enough to feel it. It’s what makes you so excellent at what you do.”

She doesn’t look or sound remotely upset or disappointed, just resigned and, somehow, hopeful. She traces the lines of Mia’s palm, watching her muscles flutter with a wistful smile.

Mia’s lips are parted. It’s not often she’s blindsided by a client, especially Julia. She can read Julia like a fucking book; it’s the reason Julia’s always valued her so highly.

“So it makes sense, I think, that you fell over the edge with someone. Honestly, it’s amazing it’s never happened before. But that’s what makes you so fucking good at this job. You were able to put in so much of yourself, but never too much. Not until you met him.”

Mia squirms uncomfortably. Julia looks up from her palm and closes her hands around it. She lifts it to her lips.

“You must be so scared,” Julia breathes, shaking her head, “This changes everything for you.”

Mia’s eyes prick with tears, seemingly out of nowhere. She balks. Flight instincts flare hard in her gut and pump through her weary veins.

“Julia, I--”

“I don’t demand an explanation. That’s never how this was going to work with us. You may be one of my closest friends, but I was never one of yours. That’s ok. That’s what this is supposed to be. You’ve given me everything I needed when I needed it, and I’ll always love you for that, Penny. You’re a marvel of a human being and I’m honored to have experienced you. I hope you know I’d do anything for you at any time. I also hope, maybe someday, that we can be friends.”

Mia breathes through a sob. She claps her free hand over her mouth and struggles to regain some kind of footing. It’s a free fall and Julia is watching and waving.

Julia releases her hand at the exact moment her driver opens her door. She pauses for a moment, watching Mia scramble in a way she’s never seen.

“Can I kiss you?” she murmurs. Mia hesitates, then nods.

The kiss is soft and lingering, one of a million, but one in a million. When they pull away, Mia can breathe again.

“Aleksandr will take you home, he just needs your address. I meant what I said, Penny. Anything you need, ever.”

With one last heartbreakingly beautiful smile, Julia lets Aleksandr help her out of the car. Mia watches her walk away. She cries all the way home.

+

It’s just past dawn. All of Los Angeles is a shade of blue. The Studio City hills are a deep, earthy teal against the powder sky. The simmering palms tickled by the morning breeze around Mia’s back patio are cobalt. Even the wind itself is blue. To complement it all, she’s in an ice blue satin slip, padding around barefoot, counting her steps while she waits for an appropriate time to call.

5:43 AM is hardly an appropriate time to be doing anything but sleeping, but she’s almost sick with anticipation, so she hits the call button and waits. She knows she won’t get his voicemail. She just knows.

“Hey,” he pants groggily.

“Are you alone?”

She hears herself ask and frowns, unsure where it came from. He makes an aggravated chuckling sound.

“Yes, yeah, I’m alone.”

“Ok,” she whispers, propping herself up against the pollen-coated patio table. The silty feeling of it beneath her fingers is somehow calming, or maybe it’s the sound of his breathing as it slows.

“Mia?” he murmurs after a few moments.

Her brow furrows. She’s not used to the name anymore, and definitely not from him. If she were a shred more desperate, she’d ask him to say it again and again until she could play it in her head the way she can play “It Was A Very Good Year.”

“I’m here.”

He goes quiet. She doesn’t mind. Knowing he’s there is enough.

“Did… you bid on anything at that auction?”

His question takes her by surprise. She snorts and shakes her head.

“No. Julia did, she won a week at a spa in the Berkshires. She’s giving it to her assistant Gracie as a perk.”

She can hear him smile gracefully when he says, “That’s nice.”

The silence is as dense as the blue at the bottom of the canyon below her. She’d gladly swim in it if it meant more time. She’s beginning to think this phone call was unfair. She still has nothing to say to him. She can barely form words.

He sighs. “I miss you so fucking much.”

Mia squeezes her eyes shut. He always gives her what she needs.

“We can fix that.”

His pause is charged and hopeful. His voice sounds a little brighter, more awake when he speaks again.

“I have… kind of a crazy idea if you’re up for it.”

“Those are usually my favorite kind.”

+

After all that blue, Mia embraces the color.

It seems all of Rio de Janeiro is color. It’s vibrant even from several thousand feet as she descends through the clouds in her first class cabin after a 16 hour journey from Los Angeles. 

She got on the plane only a few hours after she accepted Shawn’s invitation to join him for his final festival of the summer. He’s set to headline the third night of Rock in Rio in front of some 80,000 people. It’s the biggest show of his career so far. And he wants her there for him. She didn’t even hesitate.

She speed-packed every sundress, bikini and pair of sandals she could find in fifteen minutes and frantically called Gus for a ride to the airport. Pammy came along in the car, destined for another visit with Gus and his family for a few days while Mia jetsets.

Shawn sends a car to pick her up. She cruises along the crystalline blue water, past craggy mountain peaks and through bright pastel favelas filled with life and food and music. The violent swing from her quiet Mia life to Penny’s vibrant one is more jarring than usual. She blames the long flight hangover for her unsettled state. But there’s no time to settle. She’s being whisked straight to the team’s rented villa in São Conrado to freshen up before heading to the venue.

It’s sunset as they wind up the mountains of Joatinga and Mia wonders how they’ll ever reach the top. They ascend through a sparsely populated neighborhood of chic, modern villas until they reach a cobblestone drive spiked with weeds that leads to the top of the hill. The villa at first glance is modest, flat-roofed and lined with lush tropical plants. The inside is sprawling, 8 bedrooms, eclectically furnished and decorated, with an infinity pool that seems to spill over the cliff and down onto Pepino Beach. She wants to wander, but the driver tells her they need to leave for the venue in 45 minutes.

Loud is the language of Brazilian nightlife, so she appears back in the foyer in a gauzy mustard yellow minidress and her clunky red platforms, shimmering as she walks with bangles up her arm and strings of beads around her neck.

Back down the mountain they go, descending from the balancing quiet to the screech of chaos that is Rock in Rio. Shawn has been at the Cidade do Rock since early afternoon. She can only imagine that he’s a spiky bundle of nerves sitting in the dressing room now. Her heart rate quickens as they draw closer through the maze of traffic to the artist and guest entrance. She recognizes all of a sudden that she might be as nervous as he is.

She’s escorted through security and the waves of people milling around deep in the bowels of the venue. She can feel the many, many thousands of people outside at the stage. The walls vibrate with their energy and their noise. The show is between acts -- another artist is next before Shawn’s headlining set. Mia doesn’t know who. She doesn’t even know if she’ll see him before he goes on.

Her escort pauses to take a phone call. She stands behind him, towering over him in her tall shoes, feeling more like a first time prostitute than when she was one. She tucks her arms behind her to hide her fiddling fingers. Her stomach swoops hard when the unthinkably large crowd cheers for something she can’t see. Mia swears her brain is about to short circuit when her guide leads her to a door, knocks, and positions her in front of it. He starts to walk away. She struggles with her Portuguese to protest, but the door swings open.

“Thank god,” Shawn breathes, yanking her inside by her awkwardly outstretched hand. When the door shuts behind them, the sound of festival chaos is mercifully muffled.

His eyes are darting, his hair is bouncy and free of paste, he’s sweating through a white t-shirt and wetting his lips. The piece of her she needs right now falls into place. She steps into him and tucks her warm hands around his clammy neck.

“There he is,” she whispers, resting her forehead against his. The breath he shakily releases against her lips smells like wintergreen. He drops his hands to her hips, his thumbs rubbing into the light floss of her dress’s material.

Mia’s eyes are closed. Her smile is perfectly tranquil as her heartbeat finally slows to normal. She plucks at some curls against his neck with her fingers.

“Are you bricking it?”

He chuckles and she likes the way his throat vibrates against her palms and through her whole body. His nose bumps hers.

“Completely.”

She nods, not enough to dislodge where they’re connected. She brushes the tip of her freckled nose against his until she can hear him smile. She pulls away to look at him.

He already looks slightly less manic than he did when she walked in. She’s helping. It’s as calming to her as it is to him. To Mia, there’s no drug like being able to relax someone.

“What are you doing in here all by yourself?” she murmurs, guiding him by the hand to the overstuffed couch. They sit together easily, like their last few encounters are a distant memory, like it’s late June again. Shawn curls an arm around her, she slips a leg over his and lets his hand wander up and down her slightly stubbly calf.

“I’m supposed to be meditating,” he grunts, “And… I wanted time with you when you got here. Alone. Not-- like, I mean, you know, just to see you, not-- I mean, not to just--”

“Hey, I know,” Mia soothes with a gentle smile. She read on him when she walked in that he doesn’t want to be fucked right now, he wants to be held. So that’s what she’ll do.

His shoulders relax a little when he sees the understanding on her face. She massages the guitar tattoo on his forearm and lets him press his nose into her hair.

“Also, I didn’t exactly tell anyone I invited you.”

Mia’s brows raise. Shawn slowly raises his head to look at her sheepishly.

“Interesting choice,” Mia hums, waiting for an explanation.

He wets his lips. “It happened really fast. I had the idea when we got out here but I didn’t know if you were going to call, but then you did and I just said it because I wanted you here, I need you here with me so badly, especially tonight. And I know all the stuff with Bex is still happening, with the single and everything it’s an even bigger deal than before and I knew Andrew wasn’t going to like it even if I just said you’re my friend, he’s really conscious of the image shit right now so I just decided to keep you… a surprise.”

Mia decides for now not to comment on the single and the “Bex stuff.” Instead she nods gamely and tucks her face into his neck for a kiss. The goosebumps she missed on him flare hot. He hums and cuddles her a little closer.

“Thank you so much, Mia,” he breathes, tangling his fingers in the ends of her salt-sprayed hair. She lifts her head to regard him. His sincerity makes her ache.

Mia sighs, like it’s all just inevitable, and she supposes it is, at least tonight. She pulls one hand up from the back of his neck into his silky hair and holds him fast for a kiss.

She starts slow, relearning the curve of his soft mouth and the way his pulse quickens under her fingers when she touches him like this. She listens for the little throaty noise of pleasure from his chest and continues a little deeper, massaging his scalp as she explores well-documented territory with her mouth and hands until they’re both gasping and grasping, high on it.

A knock at the door interrupts them. Mia sits back with her eyes wide and her lips swollen. Shawn wipes his mouth and clears his throat.

“Yeah?”

Andrew pops his head in. His expression changes from neutral to utter bafflement so fast Mia almost laughs.

“Wh--”

“Andrew, you remember Mia, right? You met at the 4th of July party.”

Shawn says it with such confidence that Mia and Andrew both stare at him in shock. Shawn doesn’t seem to care at all that Mia was introduced under a different name then, and left the party under disreputable circumstances after leaving him with a litter of hickeys up his neck, to Andrew’s horror.

Andrew blinks. “What’s… going on?”

Shawn stands and takes Mia’s hand. She gapes, but rises and follows as he heads for the door Andrew’s standing in.

“Don’t worry, we’ll stay out of sight. This doesn’t have to be a huge deal.”

Andrew’s face says otherwise. Mia schools her expression to what she hopes is a casual one and follows Shawn out the door.

The rest of the team is clearly confused by her appearance but no one bothers to question it, especially given how much calmer their leader seems in her presence. Zubin offers Mia a caipirinha while Tiff gets Shawn into his chelsea boots, black jeans and silky crimson sleeveless button-up. 

Mia is energized by the big group send off to the stage. Shawn keeps her close as they make their way through the maze of doors and corridors to the side of the stage, past curious gazes and busy stagehands. It’s the first time Mia actually gets a look at it. She gapes at the size of the crowd.

It’s what can only be described as a sea of people. Hell, it’s a sea of people that probably extends right out to the sea. She presses a hand to her chest in astonishment. Shawn takes the other in his.

“Hey,” he nearly yells, “About the song. You… you know I wrote it for you, right?”

Mia hesitates, then nods.

“I know it’s probably weird that I had Bex sing on the track,” he calls back. Mia winces. This is such an odd time for this conversation. He seems to see the thought on her face.

“No, listen. I just need you to know just because I sang it with her doesn’t make it any less yours. It’s for you, Mia. Every time, it’s always just for you.”

A guitar tech hands off the Stratocaster. He strings it over his shoulder and scoops her in by the side of her neck for a bruising kiss, hidden from the world but blatant and obvious in front of his whole dumbstruck team.

He pulls away with a smirk like she’s never seen before. For a moment, she’s paralyzed with the certainty of the notion that she’s about to see something unlike anything she’s ever seen before.

He climbs up from the bottom of the stage. The sea of people releases a volcanic noise. Mia covers her nose and mouth, watching him stride up to the microphone and cry a greeting into it. Somehow, the crowd noise gets even fucking louder. She stares in awe as he reaches for a guitar pick off the mic stand and starts playing her song.

She thinks she knows why she’s felt so off her own feet and out of her own head now. It makes sense in that weird, nonsensical, cosmic vibrational way. The uncertainty and the dazedness of the last few days has been leading her to a truth she can’t avoid anymore, the ultimate imbalance.

Mia is so fucking in love with Shawn.

Maybe it was spending an evening watching him be the purest, most distilled version of himself in front of 80,000 ravenous fans that made her realize they could only hope to love him as much as she does. Because it feels so obvious now. Irreversible, even. This is it.

This is the end.

+

He comes off stage grinning wildly, all gleaming teeth and glistening sweat as he takes her willing body into his arms and swings her into another all-consuming kiss. She laughs into his mouth. He revels in it.

The reveling continues into the cars. There’s a whole line of SUVs queued up outside the venue, most of which are heading into the city in search of nightlife. One, however, per Shawn’s request, is taking them back up into the mountains to the villa. Andrew shades them with a wary look but otherwise drops it. Better that they tuck themselves away in their private nest than be seen “canoodling” in a Brazilian nightclub anyway.

The reveling ends in the car. Mia and Shawn are the only ones heading back early, even though it’s nearly 2am. It’s almost eerily quiet. They cling to each other like there’s some kind of invisible threat nearby looking to drag them apart. Shawn keeps a hand running through Mia’s sweaty hair while she sits practically in his lap, trailing single wet kisses along his cheek and jaw, tastes of what they can have more of when they’re finally really alone.

The driver stays in the driveway until Shawn locks the front door behind them. Mia stares out through the open floor plan to the infinity pool, lit from within. The city glows beneath them, far below until it meets the ocean. Mia thinks it’s appropriate that they’re on the edge of something.

Shawn wanders up behind her, the clack of his boots deafening against the hardwood in the silent villa. His hands are gentle on her hips. His nose skims her jugular. He holds his breath.

“What do you want, baby?” she murmurs, glancing around them, “The pool? Or maybe the window?”

This house is insane -- she has no shortage of ideas for locations.

Shawn releases the breath low and slow against her neck. Her entire body goes stiff and goosebumped. He plants a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“Want you in the bed. Please.”

Mia mashes her lips together and sighs through her nose. She supposes if she’s going to let herself have this with him, it may as well be all the way. She lifts her hand to cradle his head as he nuzzles her.

“Ok. Take me.”

Shawn smiles into her neck. He turns her by the hips and slowly lowers to one knee. Mia is about to question him when she realizes he’s working the buckle on her left shoe and kissing the inside of her thigh. She smiles and combs through his sweet smelling post-show shower hair. He switches legs and muffles a little groan into her skin when she tugs at him impatiently. He leaves her shoes sitting by the sofa and stands, lifting her legs around his hips as he does. She goes easily, swinging her arms around him with a whimper as he leads her toward his bedroom.

It’s vast and mostly empty with one long floor to ceiling window against the far wall opening up over the cliff. The enormous bed sits in the center of the room. Shawn takes her there, bracing himself on a knee as he lowers her into its cushiony softness without letting up on her lips. Mia holds him down with her, but it doesn’t matter, he wasn’t going anywhere anyway.

There’s something in the way they move together tonight. It’s as hot and slow and lazy as the humidity in the tropical trees outside the window. Instead of tugging at the straps of her dress, Shawn plants kisses over them, teases the skin beneath before reaching back up for another taste of her mouth. Instead of pushing at his jeans, Mia slides her hands up the back of his shirt, enjoying the way he gasps into her mouth. 

They’re taking what they’ve always wanted but been afraid to ask for. They’re reaching past comfortability and familiarity into true intimacy. It makes Mia’s arm hair stand on end like from a static charge. She dives deeper, deciding she may as well drown in it.

She slows the kiss he’s working on, pointing her toes and dragging them up the back of his leg. He whines sweetly into her mouth, making her smile.

“You taste good, Shawn,” she tells him, voice all warm gravel. He smiles into her lips and kisses the corner of her mouth.

“What do I taste like?”

Mia sucks him back in with a hum to decide. “Wintergreen.” She takes another taste. “Honey.” And another. “And a little bit of bourbon.” She nips at his lower lip. He laughs and lifts his hand to cradle her jaw, running his thumb against her lower lip.

He bites his lip, watching her press kisses to the bad of his finger when a few weeks ago she would’ve sucked on it until she demanded he drop his pants so she could suck on something else. But it’s different tonight. He molds his mouth back against hers so he doesn’t say something fucking stupid like you taste like forever.

Slowly, Shawn works Mia’s dress up her stubbly thighs, letting his fingers stretch and wander the patterns of freckles and stretchmarks in her skin. He admires the soft cushion around her hips and tummy and the swell of her ass. He gives it a teasing squeeze and she bites his lip.

“Take it off, Shawn.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He rolls her on top of him and shimmies her out of her pretty dress. He doesn’t have time to look her over before she descends on his neck, running her nose and mouth over all the places she likes to leave marks.

“Please, honey. Wanna see it. How much you want me,” he croaks.

Mia breathes him in slowly, savoring. She reaches for one of his hands off her hip and intertwines their fingers against the bed. Watching his fingers caress hers, she swipes her tongue just below his ear, where his skin is the very softest, like velvet. At his intake of breath, she nips and sucks, easing into a rhythm that she matches with the slow grinding of her hips.

“Jesus, Mia. Baby, you’re incredible.”

The name. She still can’t get used to him using her real name. She bites him a little too hard and winces when he stiffens. She apologizes with a hum and wet kiss until he tilts his head needily to find her lips again.

“Fucking love kissing you,” he breathes, snagging her lower lip between his teeth again with a little smile, groaning as her hips find his again.

Mia knows she has to get him naked soon or she’ll have them both coming in their damn underwear. She doesn’t want that rushed foolishness tonight. Not tonight, not like this. She wraps an arm around him, wriggling it between his broad back and the mattress, and pulls him over her. He hovers on a knee, still lost in kissing her. She slides a hand up his chest and pushes him up gently, sitting up with him as he straddles her thighs. 

Mia lifts the hem of his shirt up until he takes over, stretching his enormous arms over his head as he sheds his shirt behind them. His arms drop and start to reach for her. She leans in with a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut as she buries her face in his chest. Shawn pauses, cupping the back of her head.

“Mi--”

He cuts himself off when she starts to plant kisses all over his chest, her hands wandering his sides and back as she pleases. He loves it when she takes what she wants, especially when it’s his to give. His big fingers massage her scalp softly, marveling at the way she mewls against his skin like she missed it. He tilts his cheek against the top of her head. He knows the feeling.

Mia doesn’t want to let go. He’s perched in her lap, holding her as she clings to him, patiently enjoying her tender exploration of his chest despite how hard she can feel he is in his jeans. With a shuddering breath, she pulls back to look at him. He smiles warmly and tucks some hair behind her ear.

“Wasn’t sure I’d get this with you again.”

Her eyes drift shut. She noses at his chin. He sighs happily, helping lower her beneath him again so she’s beautifully surrounded by him. He presses his lips to her cheek and breathes with her, watching her fingers trail up and down his arms.

“About tonight,” she rasps, clearing her throat and licking her lips, avoiding his big, pleading eyes, “You… I’ve never seen anything like that before. I’ve never experienced a performance like that. I don’t know if you know how good you are, but I need you to know that I think you’re fucking incredible.”

Her eyes are wide and earnest. Shawn wants to freeze this moment and bathe in its easy perfection. 

She thinks he’s incredible.

“I think I was better for you,” he tells her honestly. Mia keens, pulling him down by his hips. He’s still wearing too many clothes.

With difficulty, they shuck him out of his jeans horizontally and with their lips mostly attached. He slips a hand behind her back to unclasp her strapless bra so it falls away with the rest. Her panties and his briefs follow.

Their nakedness is familiar but their closeness is new and sweet and scary. He lets himself kiss her until his head feels close to bursting from oxygen deprivation, she traces little patterns against the broadness of his back that make him smile against her mouth.

Mia thinks, maybe, they might be making love. She’s not sure, she’s never tried it. She hopes it’s this good.

His cock brushes her thigh and he huffs, squirming against her. She runs the hand down his back to his ass, giving it a squeeze.

“You’re still my good boy, right?” she pants, breathless. Shawn groans, nodding weakly.

“Always.”

He releases her swollen lips with a pop. His eyes are bright, free of the glaze she often sees in them when they’re fucking. They’re fixed on her like if he watches long enough maybe he’ll get to see inside. Mia resists the harsh tang of panic in the back of her throat and breathes through it, letting him look at her.

The mood shifts palpably. Where there was lightness and teasing there’s now this gaze between them that feels so charged and vital, it’s like they’ve never seen each other before. Shawn is the first to break it, looking down at her body worshipfully, eyes going heavy as he drops onto his elbows to pray.

The tip of his nose is warm against her collarbone. His lips follow, just a brush at first, followed by wet, almost pleading kisses. He sweeps out toward her shoulder, then back down. He leans on to one arm, not content to worship only with his mouth. His fingers skate down to the curve of her hip, dipping in around the cut of her hip bone to toy with the tender skin just above the soft patch of hair between her thighs.

Mia is awestruck. Her body has been many things -- whipping post, object of desire, receptacle, but never an altar. He’s careful with her now in a way that doesn’t express his fear or curiosity, but rather deep respect and admiration. He knows what her body can do, maybe better than anyone. And he knows exactly how to venerate it.

He lowers his head further, focusing on the velvety insides of her breasts. He mouths at them, tasting, not devouring. His fingers, still occupied exploring undervalued territory, fall a little further down and right into the juncture of her thigh and pelvis. The skin is thin and sensitive, making her gasp with each light brush of his thumb. 

The next time he travels down it’s to the skin just below her navel and his fingers are brushing her swollen wet lips and she can’t fucking breathe and --

“Shawn,” she hears herself gasp. He looks up, startled.

“Please,” she pleads, “Please, I can’t-- I need you. I need to feel you, please, I need you inside me. I can’t wait anymore.”

Her voice is pitchy and strained, unfamiliar. Shawn leaves one final tender kiss on her abdomen and crawls back up her body. His hands are on either side of her head, her hair splayed out around them. She already has her hands all over him, occupying her nervous energy while he takes time watching her again.

“Ok,” he breathes, nodding slightly, “Yeah, honey. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Without thinking, he drops his lips to her forehead. Her busy hands pause on his body. Her harried breathing softens. The desperation isn’t so desperate anymore. They both slow, becoming present.

When Shawn looks down at her again, she’s smiling warmly, spreading her thighs for him to settle between. He matches her expression, cupping the back of her head while his other hand wanders up and down her thigh.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks. It feels heavier than it shoulder.

Mia nods, draping her arms around his neck. She waits for him to come to her rather than pinning him down and taking. Shawn reaches down between them and lines up the head of his cock with her entrance. His forehead falls to hers. He presses in.

Mia squirms slightly with the comfortable stretch, getting used to the feel of him again, the fullness and total satisfaction of it. Shawn hums, gloved in her gorgeous wet warmth. Neither of them moves for a good full minute, instead breathing and kissing whatever they can reach. When Shawn shifts his hips, Mia’s responding mewl has his whole body on fire.

Her arms hang weak for once around him, letting him give and take. He starts deliciously slow, rolling his hips to grind into her, avoiding the angle that gets her mouthy and desperate, at least for now. Mia thinks in all the time they’ve been sleeping together this might actually be their first time in true missionary position. She thinks she really likes it.

His breath starts to come harder as his hips move faster. Mia’s syncs up with it, eyes snapping shut when she hears the slick squelch of her body’s reaction to his ministrations. She feels a brush of fingers against her cheek. When she opens her eyes, Shawn is there. 

He’s fucking beautiful. His cheeks are ruddy with the effort, his curls drying soft and frizzy as they bounce. His lips are red and swollen from all her attention. She’s never seen him look quite as gorgeous as he does right now. A noise from her throat has him groaning and lifting her leg up to hitch over his hip, reaching deeper.

“Oh Jesus, Shawn,” Mia whines, her back arching slightly. He pants, nodding as he holds her even closer, enthralled by the way her arms tighten around his shoulders. 

She trembles hard in his arms, clinging to this plane, the one that has her so deep in this with him she’ll never find her way out again. She scrabbles at his shoulders, nearly feral. Her toes curl, her body riots. She needs to come.

“I don’t… I’m not ready to let go,” she squeaks, all vulnerability. Shawn lifts his head from her neck. His jaw is set but his eyes are wide open and soft.

“Doesn’t have to be over yet. C’mon, sweetheart. Please come for me.”

Tangled in his sheets with the humid South American air coming in through the window, Mia lets go in spectacular fashion, thrashing beneath his able, willing body, nails digging into his back and neck, lips nipping and pressing all over his firm jaw as he groans through it.

When her body relaxes, Shawn inhales sharply and lifts her. Mia gasps, clinging to his shoulders as he settles on his knees, keeping her in his lap, still rocking his hips evenly. Slowly, she joins him, looping an arm around his neck and the other under his arm. She lays her cheek against his and lets his staggering heartbeat dictate the rhythm of their hips. From this angle, his pelvis bumps her clit with every precious rock of their hips.

“Yes, yes,” she chants wetly into his damp skin, eagerly pressing back into his hands on her ass as they keep her pace. They rock tighter, faster.

“Look at me,” he begs, nudging her with his cheek, pulling back slightly.

“I love watching you come,” he tells her, knowing from the cadence of her strokes and the pulsing of her pussy that she’s about to come again.

“Come with me,” she insists, fisting a hand in his hair. The tug is almost enough to make him lose it early.

Shawn grinds his hips harder, giving her everything he has left. With her eyes locked on his, she falls. He stumbles after with a shout, quickly muffled by her lips on his. Mouth to mouth, skin to skin, they rock in place until they can’t. Shawn tips them forward, still connected in every place they can be, cradling her between him and the bed. At her urging, he stays inside her until he’s hard again. Mia and Shawn make love until the birds get loud in the trees and the cool morning wind lulls them to sleep.

----------

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Hero Among Thorns - Pt 4

Pairing: Hyunwoo x Reader Genre: Undercover Detective AU, Action, Romance Word Count: 2.5K Summary: When a mistaken connection results in your kidnapping by one of the city’s most notorious gangs, the undercover detective Hyunwoo has no choice but to rescue and protect you, and, most dangerously of all, fall in love with you. Warning: Mentions of violence and blood. Parts: See Masterlist for previous parts. (Sorry, but Tumblr won’t show posts with links in tag searches.

“But you have to.” Minhyuk stares you down, his happy demeanor gone without a trace. “Didn’t you hear what we just said Yew has done? You can’t just let him walk free.”

“I also heard that all your witnesses end up dead. Getting shot once is an experience I don’t want to repeat, especially if the next time ends with me not breathing.” You drop your face into your hands. Your heart beats in a rabid tattoo, hastened by imagining your dead body sprawled bloody in some dingy alley or dumped in some lonely shallow grave no one will ever find you in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Well I did, but I want to put this guy who can’t even do his homework and kidnaps the wrong person in jail, clearly. It’s just… do you have any idea how scary this is?”

“The other witnesses never had us. Our team is the best there is,” Hyungwon says.

“No one is getting close to you unless we let them,” Hyunwoo adds so firmly you almost believe him.

Almost.

You shake your head and hug your knees. It does little to comfort you. “I don't know.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, but you know everyone hears you.

Minhyuk lets out a huff that's somewhere between frustrated and disgusted. The legs of the couch squeak against the floor with the force of him standing. You instinctively pull your legs closer to distance yourself from his angry disapproval. Without giving you another glance, he crosses in front of you. A few seconds later, the door to the apartments slams behind him.

“Don't mind him,” Hoseok says, breaking the tense silence. “Min's just tired and ready to go home. This hasn't been the easiest mission for us.”

“I'm sorry,” you instinctively reply. You're already regretting your impulsive statement. A lot.

“Don't be.” Hoseok smiles, rolls his shoulders as he stands, and crosses the carpet to give your uninjured shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He'll be fine by the morning. Don't worry about all this. Just concentrate on getting better.”

Hoseok looks to Hyunwoo, asking, “We'll see you two at the shop tomorrow?”

Hyunwoo shakes his head. “I'll probably stay here with her for a few days. Might look weird if I go right back to work when my girlfriend was almost killed. Yew's going to be keeping a close eye on us for awhile. Watch your backs.”

“Always. Come on, Hyungwon. I'll give you a ride back.”

Hyungwon dislodges himself from the couch, flashing a salute at Hyunwoo and nodding at you before following Hoseok out the door.

“Guess I better head out, too,” Kihyun says, “since I open tomorrow. Need to be there early for that parts-shipment from Kyushu.”

Changkyun goes to the counter to slip his laptop and tablet into their respective cases. “Can you drop me by my place? I rode with Minhyuk but I doubt that asshole remembered and stuck around.”

“Sure.”

They both say good-night and leave. Jooheon follows, but only after checking your vitals again and repeating his instructions for your medication to Hyunwoo.

Silence fills the space left behind. Mentally exhausted from having to go through the night over and over again, you slump on the couch. Opposite you, Hyunwoo sits in his armchair, lost in thought or half asleep, you can’t tell. With being an undercover agent, keeping up chatter with someone not on his team probably isn’t a frequent occurrence.

As you open your mouth to ask if you can get more items from your apartment eventually, Hyunwoo gets up and moves toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?” he asks.

You think about it before replying, “No, thanks. Do you have any tea though?”

“I should.” He squats down to look in a cabinet and you glance away from the lovely view provided by the sweatpants. Where isn’t this guy perfect? “Ah, yeah, here it is. There’s raspberry, green, and honey chamomile. Kihyun can pick us up more if you prefer something else.”

“Chamomile is fine for now, please. Thank you.”

“Sure.”

Curiosity gets the better of you after Hyunwoo turns the electric kettle on and sets out a green ceramic mug beside it. He starts rummaging through the refrigerator. You see him glance at you from the corner of his eye as you climb onto a stool on the opposite side of the counter. But he doesn’t comment, continuing to place different things on the counter.

A packet of kimchi. A can of spam. Eggs. Cabbage. Soy sauce. Sesame oil. Packaged noodles.

Your stomach gives a muffled gurgle. Maybe you will take him up on his offer of a meal.

With quiet competence, Hyunwoo moves around the kitchen with the uncommon ease of a man who knows his way around cooking, measuring, prepping. When the kettle boils, he pours the water over the teabag and sets the mug in front of you with a small bowl of sugar and a dainty bottle of honey shaped like a teddy bear.

As he turns, you ask, “You don’t talk a lot do you?” Realizing you sounded rude, you add, “Not that anything’s wrong with that. It’s nice being around someone who’s okay with not talking.”

Hyunwoo shrugs. “I’m not always good at it. I make things awkward when I speak sometimes, so I don’t unless I need to usually. Does it make you uncomfortable that I don’t?”

“No, no. Definitely not.”

He smiles and turns back to his work.

After fixing your tea to your liking, there's nothing else to do but wait. But you can only sit still so long. You never did do well sitting idle. “Can I help?”

“Sure.”

Despite his quick answer, Hyunwoo has to look around for something to give you. He finally settles on giving you some cabbage to shred for the soup. You clumsily grip one end of the leaves with your injured side’s hand as you tear, your tongue unconsciously poking out the corner of your lips. Quickly, the only noises in the apartment return to the clicks of utensils and rips of your work.

With how chaotic your days usually are, the majority of your hours full of people whining, yelling, and demanding in your ears, quiet when you get home is welcome. But it isn’t always so. More often than you would care to admit, when you’re alone in your apartment in worn pajamas, sitting on your couch with your laptop and a snack in peace, the quiet reminds you how alone you are. No roommate, not even a fish for a pet. Your dating life has been about as dead as Frankenstein's wife. For years now. An embarrassing number of years.

You had underestimated the comfort of having another living, breathing human living in the same space as you when you shared a room with a friend in university. The knowledge that someone else was there, that you could talk to them if you wanted, reach out to touch them. Someone to share your thoughts with that wasn’t yourself. Someone to just kick back and enjoy a movie and pizza with without having to deal with the pressure of maintaining the perfect, polite image work and dates demand.

Yes, you were lonely. Are lonely. If that somehow lowered your standards for human interaction, so be it. Yet, you didn’t feel like you were settling for Hyunwoo’s quiet. Like the man himself, it feels solid, wholesome. Even if it is literally now Hyunwoo’s job to keep you around, you appreciate his company. Watching his hands as he cooks and listening to him clink and bang around the kitchen, the normalcy of it, brings back the warmth to your bones as much as his hoodie does.

“You sure you’re not hungry?”

Meeting Hyunwoo’s eyes through the steam of the cooking ham slices, you shrug with a half-smile. “Maybe a little.”

“I figured you would be.” He takes two bowls from the cabinet. Smoothly, he deposits a healthy amount of noodles into one of them and puts it in front of you. The steam of the soup mingles with that of the two slices of ham he places on top of the noodles. Together, they may be the best thing you've ever smelled.

Kihyun's soup earlier hadn't been bad, but it'd been decidedly bland. Probably under Jooheon's orders. As soon as your spoonful of Hyunwoo's soup hits your tongue, it's heaven. Salty, earthy, noodly heaven.

You rush another spoonful to your mouth, happily chewing away at the ham. As you go for a third, you pause, the hair on the back of your neck tingling. Looking up, you realize Hyunwoo is watching you. He's leaning against the counter, arms crossed, mouth tilted in a smile that shows just a hint of teeth.

“That good?” he asks in an amused tone.

It takes conscious effort not to drop the spoon in embarrassment. You just stuffed your face like a heathen in front of one of the most attractive people you've crossed paths with in awhile. Like an idiot.

Lowering your spoon and your eyes, you sheepishly reply. “Yeah. It's really good.”

“Good.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Oh,” he sets down the bowl he'd picked up for himself and drags a bag of medication, “you should take these now. Jooheon said you should take them with food, remember?”

You nod and gulp down the pills as Hyunwoo serves himself. The earlier quiet descends again, broken only by your spoons clinking against the sides of your bowls and the occasional slurped noodle. It's beyond nice.

Just as before, it hits you how isolated you've been the last few months of your life. When you think about it, it's hard to tell if it was because of your job and its accompanying exhaustion or your personal choice. Maybe a little of both.

“Want more?”

Hyunwoo’s words break through your mood. Noticing your bowl is empty, you shake your head and push it away. “I’m good, thanks.”

“No problem.” He takes the dish and puts it in the sink, looking back at you. “Does your shoulder hurt?”

“No. Why?”

“You’re frowning.”

Not for the first time, you lament your utter lack of a poker face. Admitting just getting to eat with someone made you over the moon isn’t an attractive option. “No, it's fine. It feels pretty dull. I was just...”

You run a hand through your hair out of habit. The strands feel greasy. A perfect excuse. “I was just wishing I could wash my hair. But it'd be really hard to do without getting the bandages wet. Maybe we could cover it with something to keep it dry? Like wrap a garbage bag or plastic?”

“That should be okay. I might have a spare trash bag.” He reaches towards the cabinet under the sink, but pauses before opening the door. Hyunwoo straightens and says, “Or you could just wash it here if you just need to wash your hair.”

“Here as in the kitchen sink?”

“Why not? I’ll just move the dishes to one side. It has one of those hose things so that would make it easier to rinse. That way your bandages don't have to get wet at all. I've had to wash my hair in a sink a lot when a shower wasn't an option.”

“I guess that'll work...”

He smiles. “I'll get the shampoo and a towel for you.”

You refill the space in front of the sink after Hyunwoo vacates, eyeballing the hose. Maybe if you just bend forward with your face in the sink that could work. But then the shampoo would get in your eyes. You try bending backwards, but the height of the counter proves your undoing. Even with your flexibility, a must for a dancer, your head barely comes anywhere near the sink.

Still half bent over backwards, you glare at the upside-down sink. “Stupid,” you mutter.

“Is that comfortable?”

You stumble as you right yourself to find Hyunwoo returned with a fluffy black towel and a very large black shampoo bottle. “No. Maybe the sink isn’t such a good idea. Even with the hose, I think it would be too weird an angle.”

Putting the towel and bottle down, he studies the sink. His fingers drum against his hips as he thinks. Hyunwoo grabs one of the stools and pulls it around the counter. He moves around you to put it in front of the sink. “If you sit on this, I can wash it for you.”

“You’d do that?” you ask, caught by surprise. You haven’t had anyone else wash your hair since you were a child. Not even when you get a haircut. Certainly no past boyfriend had ever offered.

“It’s not like women wash their hair any different from men.” Hyunwoo says. “Or do they?”

You can’t help your laugh. “I guess not. Okay, thanks.”

He nods and hands you the towel. Once you have it draped around your neck with your bandaged arm safely covered, you slowly lean back until the back of your neck touches the cool metal of the sink. Hyunwoo leans over you to turn on the water. As you stare up at his chest, just how big he is hits you all over again.

Thank goodness he’s on your side. 

You jerk in surprise when instead of the warm water you were expecting, Hyunwoo’s palm comes to your forehead and pushes it back. Despite your discomfort, you keep your mouth shut. He’s doing you a favor afterall.

But when Hyunwoo starts trying to massage the shampoo into your hair like it’s a stubborn stain in a rug, you hiss and clap your good hand over his. “Ow!”

He stops immediately and asks in a worried tone, “Did I hurt you?” 

“Just a little softer, please.” Readjusting to a more comfortable position, you move your hand on top of one of his. It doesn’t quite fit, but Hyunwoo lets you manipulate his fingers in much gentler motions. He seems to get the hang of it after a few moments, but you keep your hand where it is a little longer than necessary. The warmth of his hand feels too good.

“Sorry, for hurting you,” he says. “Never done this before.”

Snatching your hand back into your lap, you reply, “So you're not like the Zohan.” You chuckle at your own joke.

“The what?” He stops.

“The Zohan. Zohan Dvir. From 'You Don't Mess with the Zohan.' The Adam Sandler movie?”

“Never seen it.” Hyunwoo shakes his head and shrugs apologetically.

“It’s okay. It’s kind of a lot of stupid, but it’s good for when you want to just laugh. You don’t have to think about anything. It’s about an Israeli special forces agent who fakes his own death so he can pursue his dream of being a hairstylist.”

“Seriously?” He laughs, which makes you smile. It’s too cute.

“Yeah. I haven’t watched it in forever. Too many movies to watch, too little time.”

“You like to watch movies?”

You’re grateful for the excuse to close your eyes when he starts rinsing your hair. “It passes the time well when you’re alone a lot.”

To your surprise, Hyunwoo answers, “I get that. I sleep or workout, but movies sound fun. Sorry, I don't have anything more girly smelling, by the way. I can ask one of the guys to grab you some of whatever you like using from the store and drop it off.”

“It’s okay. Yours smells good.” You open your eyes when you feel Hyunwoo lift the towel from your front so he can help you sit up. He drapes the towel around your shoulders and starts drying your hair. His hands are much gentler than before so you can’t help but sag into your seat a little. The simple comfort makes you feel like a cat, ready to curl in a purring ball. “Are you sure you’re a secret agent?”

“Pretty sure.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Why?”

“You’re better at this than you think.” And despite his size, he has the personality of a teddy bear. It’s hard to equate the person tenderly drying your hair with the badass who rescued you.

“You have to be a quick study to survive at this job. Otherwise you don’t stay alive long.” His voice lacks any hardness in spite of the bluntness of his statement, as if he’s just stating a normal fact. Hyunwoo pauses, then says, “That was a little dark, wasn’t it?”

“A little, but I guess it’s true. You can’t deal with the underbelly of humanity and get by on a whim.” Hesitating, you add, “Thank you, by the way.”

“No need for that. It’s just hair.”

“I mean for saving me from those men.” You feel Hyunwoo’s hands slow, but keep your eyes straight ahead. “I don’t think I said that to you yet, but really, thank you.”

“It was nothing. Just another day for us.”

Just another day. And you’re just another mission, you remind yourself. Your gaze falls to your hands as you fight that tiny feeling of disappointment. “Oh. And I’m sorry for pulling the gun on you.”

That makes Hyunwoo laugh again. He comes in front of you and leans against the counter, still smiling. “It was empty, remember? No harm, no foul.”

“Still… it wasn’t nice.”

“Trust me, I’ve had much more dangerous people point loaded guns at me. I’ll take you pointing an unloaded one at me any day.”

“Are you saying I wasn’t intimidating?” you ask, only half-joking.

He smiles and walks away with the towel and shampoo. “Yes.”

[uraharasandals]

Loneliness / Hunger Games AU

Another Hunger Games au that no one asked for! I was tired of reading the books on my reading list so I tried something...more relaxing and got into the amazing world-building again. With that cheery thought, let’s have some more behind the scenes! 

Title: Loneliness

Word count: 2325

Dazai, Mori (other side relationships)

Character study

Weak. Fragile. Worthless. That was what Dazai have been hearing his whole life,  growing up around the other kids in District 2. The other kids were all sturdily built, each of them made up of pure courage, bravery, grim determination and muscle. The other kids could run ten miles without sweating, and still scale the training wall with ease. The other kids could handle basically every weapon without fumbling or letting the sword fall out of their hands. 

Dazai could do none of these things. 

He stopped caring early on, however, mainly because he had other things to worry about. For one, the other children at the orphanage he was at. The staff there told him that his parents were dead, which was why he ended up there. Somehow, his version of the truth was never sugarcoated. He thinks the staff there understood that he could bear the truth, and the truth was given to him. More like shoved; he didn’t have a choice to accept or not. 

At any rate, because of his skinny frame that couldn’t be filled out no matter how hard he tried, Dazai was small, even for his age. Which resulted in a boatload of bullying from the older kids, kids his same age, even younger kids, because at the orphanage there never seemed to be enough, despite it being District 2.

District 2. They were taught that it was one of the Capitol’s favourites, and one of the most-fed. It was also the district of peacekeepers, the white-uniformed blank-faced guards that stood at virtually every corner he could see. Everyone aspired to be like them. Not Dazai.

Everyone also aspired to be a victor in the Hunger Games, and everyone who was someone (which was basically everyone except Dazai) signed up for training. Dazai didn’t bother to, not only because he had no interest in the Games entirely, but also he knew that the moment his name was called, someone more brutal, more bloodthirsty than him would take his place. No one in their right mind would let him go to the Hunger Games.

That is, no one in their right mind until he was eight. For some reason, that was when he got tired of being kicked around and bullied. Dazai soon found that he had a way with words. With manipulating others, and talking his way into anything and everything. His brain became sharper, and it was as if the world’s opportunities opened themselves to him. He was still scrawny and thin, but for once, he stood with confidence. 

The constant manipulation came with a pleasant surprise, too. Rumours spread and soon people started steering clear of him. That was perfectly fine with Dazai; he wanted no company and didn’t bother with any. The staff let him keep the pet snake that somehow followed his commands, and thus he lived peacefully like that. (People called him ‘The Devil’s Child, but what did it matter? He even liked the ring of it)

Fourteen. Two years into the Hunger Games circuit and he started to get bored of just manipulating ordinary people. Dazai started stealing things. Well, not stealing per se, but talking people into giving him things. Mostly women, because he had seen in the mirror that he had a distinct sort of charm. Not conventional, but still charming. With his stature, he could even play the part of a pitiful child. So he talked the rich into giving him things. A jewel here, a ring there. Not much. Mostly he got bored with it and pawned it off, throwing in an excuse to avoid suspicion. He never got into trouble with anyone or anything either, and was beginning to think into making this into a living when he was approached one day. 

Where did you learn to manipulate people like that? At first, Mori was just a friendly face. Dazai even bought into his lies, and started manipulating him. He quickly realised the man was more than that though, and somehow Mori was interested in taking him under as a disciple. What he did for a living, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was Mori socialising with important people and doing important things. Dazai also soon realised the gravity of what he was negotiating on a daily basis; the stakes were higher, meaning that more charm was laid on thick. He started to burrow deeper into the job, deeper into the underground network, and deeper into the lies. He also started enjoying it more, because when these people started losing, they fall deeper. 

Dazai soon learnt a word for this; ‘sadistic’. 

At any rate, it soon vanished into reality when his name was called at the Hunger Games drawing when he was seventeen. Seventeen. Just one more year and it would all be over. But no. Just when he turned seventeen, he had to be carted off to the Capitol and fight to the death for the entertainment of other people. The mere thought of it made him boiling with anger, for the first time in his life. 

He held out as long as he could though, until he realised no one would volunteer for him. Dazai, the person who long ago already graduated from being ‘The Devil’s Child’ to probably personifying the devil himself. Dazai, having lurked in the underground connections so long even the light could not purify him. Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. Everyone in the seventeens crowd probably wished him dead from their loathing and their disgust, and he honestly wasn’t surprised. Another name was drawn and a lovely girl with two braids, though obviously one of the best trained of Two’s, hopped onto the stage and the crowd cheered. Dazai shook her hand and could only think of ways to corrupt her as he stared into her eyes. 

They were soon on the train and lo and behold, Mori appeared, along with an unrecognizable woman. Dazai gave him a wan smile, which was mistaken for what passed for friendliness for him by the other two and their escort. He knew that Mori knew better though. After all, he was the only one present who knew his underground personality. 

The days before the Games then flash by in a blur. Time with his prep time. Dazai was already naturally handsome and one of the assistants, a woman with blond curls dangling above the floor, poked his cheek good-naturedly and commented on his looks. His stylist gushed over how lucky he was to have a camera ready tribute on his hands, and he handled the fabric draping and costume testing with ease. 

Mealtimes. Dazai was a natural speaker and commented, gushed, questioned and reacted with appropriate timing and impeccable style. He won over their escort, the female mentor, and even, he suspected, his fellow tribute. The girls were trained for direct confrontation, strength, battle. They weren’t equipped to handle such flattery or the male attention. Dazai had the girl falling at his feet in no time.

He also had the Capitol audience falling at his feet in no time, too. During his time with Caesar Flickerman, he played off his image as a charming young man who was shunned because of his naturally slim frame and background. Sympathy rose from the crowd, and he could see the rich women dabbing at their eyes with lace. Dazai managed to slip in a puppy look here and there, and he could practically see the sponsors lining up, just for him.

The only problem was his strength, as always. At Mori’s instruction, he tried out every weapon at the Centre, and found out he apparently excelled at throwing and aiming things. A side glance found his fellow Careers showing off around the other malnourished tributes, and he secretly added in some hunting skills, as well as trapping skills. A show of throwing knives got him a decent eight in the Gamemakers’ eyes; he suspected some of it came from his interview.

And of course, he was laying down the charm thick as usual. Dazai befriended everyone and accessed them, before accepting only one tribute for an ally - a tall eighteen year old called Oda Sakunosuke from District Four, who luckily was also part of the Career Gang. Thank god. Otherwise he would arose suspicion.

All too soon he had to take part in the Games. The morning of the Games Dazai felt anxiety clutch at his chest, and nearly lost his confident demeanor in front of the hovercraft personnel. He reminded himself that Mori had won through his wits, and not his strength, though doubt clouded his mind and would have continued if not for the note slipped to him via his stylist. At that, his lips curled up. As always, Mori thought of everything. 

Killing turned out to be surprisingly easy. As long as you dismiss the fact that you were slaughtering live humans it came so much easier. And besides, Dazai was rear guard. He didn’t have to do much except take down the enemy from a distance, and it was easy as long as his opponent didn’t have a long-distance weapon at hand. 

It soon became clear to the rest of the gang that Dazai had brains, and for some incredibly foolish reason they trusted him enough to come up with strategies for gameplay, not thinking that he might even betray them. Once again, his scrawny frame and charm became his assets. 

Soon his allies started dropping dead, but subtly. He made sure they die when they were out hunting in small groups. Having assessed his fellow tributes, he knew which one of them were strong enough, and turned his allies on them. The battleground thinned quickly.

One element he hadn’t counted on affecting him, however, was Oda Sakunosuke. Initially he deemed him the only trustworthy one in the arena, but the more they spent time together the more he found himself dreading losing him. Dazai wasn’t sure what to do with this knowledge. He hadn’t exactly promised to win, but he was desperate enough to live (or at least die by his own methods) that he managed to keep himself alive. Should he allow Oda Sakunosuke to live instead of him? 

The answer came on the fourth day, and it forced his hand. Having let his guard down, he hadn’t realised the arrow until it was too late. Flicking a knife at the direction and successfully hearing the cannon, he immediately rushed back to Oda’s side, blaming himself for not learning healing before, but it was no good. Well, at least he didn’t die by his hand. Dazai found himself, for the first time, ashamed of his thoughts and constant self-preservation. 

Something else began to set in after Oda’s death too, a feeling he wasn’t familiar with until he realised, on the sixth day, what it was after killing another tribute. Loneliness. Desire for company, which was strange, because he had always been a loner. Staring down at the braids in the pool of blood, he silently, for the first time, bid his fellow tribute goodbye.

Twenty-two down, one to go. At this point, the audience was surely at the edge of their seats. Dazai hadn’t thought of the audience since day one and the melancholy after Oda died made him neglect nearly everything else except basic needs, but afterwards he realised the reward he got for charming the audience. A new set of knives after he pinned the Six tribute to a tree resembling crucifixion. Medicine for the mild burns over his hands after tricking a tribute into eating nightlock. Really, his list was endless.

His last tribute died unexpectedly though, and frankly, somewhat disappointingly. Dazai had perched himself on the Cornucopia as an easy target (and close to the lake too, for insurance) and he watched as the wild dogs chased the burly One male tribute down, before they leaped on top of him. The sounds stuck to him ever since, and Dazai thought honestly that no amount of time would erase the trauma. 

The trumpet blew, he was patched up with no more burn scars on his hands, and soon he was waxing poetic about Mori and how much he owed him and all of that bullshit in front of a live audience, but not before holding in tears watching Oda Sakunosuke’s death replayed on a screen in front of him. 

The part about Mori was true, in a way he did owe him. After experiencing the Games himself though, he started doubting whether the man was entirely sane with his methods, and began steering clear of him, though still being in the same industry. Dazai had navigated those waters before, and he continued doing so with ease, thinking he could continue with that lifestyle.

Before realising it was futile, of course. Despite his continuous charm and lies, there was a gnawing at his chest that was confirmed when one of the girls told him there was no heart left behind his words. But what else could he do? No companion would accept him, besides his fellow victors, and most of them were too old anyways (not that he minded sleeping with someone older but for a friend, perhaps the same age was a good start. At least, that was what he heard), or too wary of him. Apparently, even the gossip spread fast in the Victor’s Circle.

That was, until the mess of a Seven tribute was deposited into the Victor’s Circle during his first year of mentoring. The moment Dazai saw his bright orange curls, he knew Nakahara Chuuya would be worth the trouble. 

[letsbenditlikebennett]

YEET Yourself into a Hug, Fam || Ariana, Deirdre, Morgan, & Ulfric

TIMING: Some time before dawn May 30th.  PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems​ @deathduty​ @big-bad-ulf​ and @letsbenditlikebennett​ SUMMARY: Ulfric brings Ariana to stay with Deirdre and Morgan after the whole prom night fiasco. WARNINGS: Mentions of family death. 

Ariana knew she had been tired, but she hadn’t realized just how much she needed sleep. She hadn’t even woken up when Ulfric got in the truck to drive her over to Deirdre’s. It wasn’t until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder lightly prodding her awake that she even realized they’d left outside the trailer. As she slowly blinked sleep away from eyes, she kept a tight grip on the blanket she had wrapped herself in. While it didn’t change anything, it brought a small level of comfort, as if it was shielding her away from the memories that came flooding back with her consciousness. Her breath caught in her throat momentarily as she looked out the passenger window to see the familiar front of Deirdre’s home. She slowly got out of the car, still keeping the blanket wrapped around her as she jumped down. She gave a soft rap on the door.

It seemed for all her knowledge of death and loss, Deirdre was no more equipped to ease the emotional  weight it wrought than anyone else. But this was the very least she could do for the young girl that tried to fix her leaky pipes and ended up bouncing an axe off the ass of a moose--the least. The knock tore Deirdre from her concentration, holding Morgan’s hands and wondering silently if they’d done enough to welcome Ariana into their home (did she want more of those fruity-rolled candies? Another mini-fridge for the guest room she’d be staying in?). Deirdre ran to the door first, concern propelling her forward. She opened it to find a girl wrapped up in a blanket, it was only in straining to see that she could place the deflated figure as the same girl that ran around her house but a month ago. “Ariana..” She stepped aside, “come in, please. Does--does old meat want to come in too? He can.” She asked, referring to the large man behind her. Deirdre turned her gaze to Morgan, nodding once solemnly in their kind of wordless communication.

The world took too much from children. Morgan couldn’t help but think of the nights she’d spent in the back of a car at some bullshit hour, exhausted and sleepless. The joyless takeout dinners and the mornings half hidden under the covers. Is that what Nell was doing right now? Or Blanche? Is that what they were welcoming Ariana into? And what about the child Deirdre had been? Or Mina? Where was the fairness or the balance in that? More and more since dying, it seemed like balance was something the universe left for people to clean up and manage for themselves. She squeezed Deirdre’s hands back at the sound of Ariana at the door. You’ve got this. And Deirdre was up and at the door faster than even Morgan could keep up with. She hung back, trying to give the girl space. “Hey, kiddo,” she said solemnly. “We’re glad you came. We’ve got you all set up just off the stairs. The biggest room we could get in the house.” She tilted her head, searching her expression for some clue, some key for how best to approach this. She held an arm out, offering to bring her in but not insisting. She caught Deirdre’s look, giving her the faintest smile of reassurance and then to the doorway where whoever ‘old meat’ was standing-- “Ulfric?” She sputtered.This wasn’t the time for connecting the dots out loud. She beckoned Ariana to follow her, swallowing the urge to wrap her up tight. “It’s good to see you again. At least let us fix you a drink, or some water. I insist.”

Ulfric had stayed by the truck while Ariana went to knock on the door to the large, well-appointed home. After she’d fallen asleep in the front seat while waiting outside the trailer, he’d braved the minefield of memories inside to collect the things he thought she’d need; clothes, toiletries, soccer gear, and school supplies (Faen, wasn’t see supposed to have her finals soon?) and stash them in a duffle bag for her to take with her. He retrieved that bag now and shuffled up to the front of the house, nodding gratefully at Deidre through the open doorway, before being startled when he was addressed by a second voice. “Morgan?” He answered, surprised at seeing the other woman there pulling him temporarily out of his dutiful daze. He wasn’t unhappy to see her there even though it was a shock, she’d always been kind towards him when he wasn’t mistaking her for a threat and she already knew some of the situation with the young wolves he’d been harboring, even if he’d only divulged that to her because he thought she’d been a safe outsider to vent to. He shifted his feet at the doorway indecisively for a moment, unsure if his continued presence would remind Ariana too much of what had happened, when he was supposed to be letting her rest. “I suppose I could come in for a short while,” he conceded after a minute of both Deirdre and Morgan looking at him expectantly. “See that Ari gets settled. I’ll just take water though, seeing as I have to drive back soon.” 

In her hazy state, Ariana hadn’t even thought of grabbing clothes or her school stuff. Just another thing that Ulf seemed to be thinking ahead on. She honestly wasn’t sure if she would have been able to do all of this without him. There was no way she would have been able to deal with her body. She held no remorse for the Aquillas, but seeing Celeste like that ripped her apart. Later, she’d go to the tree Ulf had spread her ashes at and get a proper goodbye in. For now, she hesitantly took Morgan’s arm and followed her inside, “Hey,” she greeted, her voice still raw and raspy from how much she’d managed to cry in the course of the evening. Somehow, the house looked even more lavish with all the repairs post spinach attack. She was glad Ulf was coming in. She hadn’t wanted to leave him, but the thought of being surrounded by Celeste’s things right now was just entirely too much to handle. She let Morgan lead the way in and weakly said, “Thank you both for having me.” She was only somewhat confused by Deirdre calling Ulf “old meat” and that Morgan already seemed to know him, but she’d save those questions for another day. Her brain was in such a sleepy stupor she wasn’t even sure she’d remember the answers anyway.

There would always be something Deirdre could never accept about watching someone’s spirit be torn from them. Ariana was too young, too kind to know the world’s cruelty. She closed the door behind them slowly, lingering at the threshold as she considered what to do. “The kitchen is right over there,” she commented first, leading them through the foyer and into the great room, urging they sit on one of many plush seats. “You don’t need to thank us, Ariana.” She set about fetching two glasses of water for them, handing one to Ulfric and leaving the other in front of Ariana, for her to take or leave as she saw fit. She expected in the time it took her to find glasses, fill and then offer them out, she might have figured out something to talk about--but what was there to say that could ease the burden of loss? Did Ariana want to talk? Would it just have been wise to usher Ariana to sleep? It was worse,.somehow, to let silence fill the air--as if what was missing could be felt between them. “I’ve been studying,” she said, “in your honour, Ariana. I see that the children are very interested in ‘getting the bread’. And I’ve deduced that the excess of carbs is how they get ‘dummy thicc’. Though, that being said..” Deirdre looked between Morgan and Ulfric, wondering if any of this was working. “Would you like to ‘yeet’ yourself in a hug, ‘fam’? That’s how it’s said these days, right?” She hoped it was working. It seemed better than talking about anything else.

Morgan went still, a little wide-eyed, a little mind-boggled, as her girlfriend proceeded to launch into a babble of slang she wasn’t quite sure how to make sense of. This was fine. And the expression on her face was so earnest, Morgan couldn’t do anything but try to catch her. “Yes, fam,” she said softly, slipping an arm around her shoulders for a little squeeze, whispering a quick reassurance in her ear before moving on. “Ulfric-- Or ‘old meat’ if you prefer,” For all his gentleness, he didn’t seem like the kind of person to give hugs to just anyone. Rather than intrude, she gave him what she hoped was a good, sturdy  arm squeeze. She took Ariana by the shoulder, just a gentle nudge, a finger reaching up to tuck away some hair springing loose and out of place. She steered her, gently as she could, to the main sitting area and fluffed up the pillows, indicating where the girl would be comfiest. “Let us know if you guys are hungry, there’s still some hot food on the stove, and plenty of red meat that’s been meal prepped. Wouldn’t take but a couple minutes to cook. I’ll just stash this upstairs real quick. You can come see your room, if you want, Ari?” She looked out of it, like she might topple over in a strong wind. Morgan wondered if what she needed was a lay down, or if even that was too much to surrender when she’d already lost so much. “Otherwise, I’ll just be back in a jiff. Definitely have some water.” She gave the room her most confident smile, we’ve got this, this is fine, and went briskly on her way.

Ulfric couldn’t keep his eyes from scanning over the property as Ariana’s hosts lead him into the kitchen. Everything about it was plush, inviting, and practically screamed ‘comfort’, a far cry from the spartan, survivalist existence they’d been carving out in the trailer in the woods. Which wasn’t a bad thing, comfort was clearly what Ari needed right now. He sipped the glass of water gratefully, realizing he could still taste ash from the burning warehouse as he gulped that down, and gave Deirdre a silent thumbs up from behind Ari’s head when she looked between him and Morgan for approval of her welcoming speech. She certainly seemed to be off to a better start with teenage vocabulary than he’d been when he’d first had to take her in, and he was sure Ari would appreciate that.

“I wouldn’t say I prefer it,” Ulfric started, when Morgan referred to him by the ridiculous nickname he hadn’t truly believed anyone, let alone a woman of Deirdre’s apparent class and stature, would ever utter aloud. “But thanks,” he tried to tug the corner of his move into something resembling a smile at her reassuring squeeze, but it likely came off as more of a grimace. He followed Ari quietly to the sitting area, leaning against the wall behind her and trying to make his presence as unobtrusive as someone of his size could hope to be. When Morgan had finished her spiel, he tapped the young wolf on the shoulder lightly, prompting, “How does that sound? Are you hungry? How’s your stomach feeling?” He shifted his gaze to Deirdre to explain with a sigh, “As I said, she was given some form of sedative. I’m not sure exactly what. I found some unlabeled pills and wolfsbane in their arsenal, but I couldn’t determine from that what mixture or quantities they actually used. It seems like they’re wearing off, but you’ll keep an eye out for any complications?” He then turned back to Ari to instruct gently, “You need to tell them if you’re feeling worse.” It was a difficult to phrase request, considering how she already had to be feeling, but it was an important one. Now that the danger she was in was no longer mortal, lesser threats to her well-being seemed to carry more weight. 

Ariana blinked slowly as Deirdre used more slang in a sentence than she did half the time. It was kind of endearing. She wanted to be able to provide comfort and relate to her. The efforts didn’t go unnoticed by Ariana and she gave an approving nod. “Dummy thicc like a Spinach,” she said weakly, not quite able to bring herself to smile. There was nothing that could really help, it meant a lot she was trying. She tiredly sat on the couch, taking a sip from the glass of water realizing she probably needed it between the alcohol and drugs  in her system. It also probably meant she should take Morgan up on her offer for food even though her appetite was nonexistent. It was hard to think of eating food when the image of Celeste’s lifeless body was still so clear in her mind. She wanted to just go crumple into bed and sleep until this all went away, but Celeste would want her to take care of herself. Her well being was also important to everyone in the room, as much was clear. She looked to Morgan, eyes still drooping and tired, “Yeah, I should probably eat something. Oh, thanks, yeah that can go upstairs.” She still sat unmoving, not noticing the small white ball of fluff that had jumped onto her lap. It slightly startled her until she realized it was a kitten. That was strange, most cats didn’t like her, not that she was a huge fan of cats, they were a little aloof for her tastes, but this one seemed to be very dead set on getting affection from her. She lightly scratched behind the kitten’s ear, which seemed to go over well as the cat settled comfortably into her lap. This was… unexpected. She kept calmly petting the kitty as she nodded along with what Ulfric said. “I will, I just feel a little queasy and light-headed right now,” she tried to assure him so he didn’t worry for her too much.

A thumbs-up from Ulfric was all Deirdre needed to bolster her to fully embrace the strange, haphazard research she had done. She was aware, vaguely, that she must have sounded wrong--but the point was to lighten a heavy mood, and hopefully ease the momentary ache. There wasn’t much anyone could do, no way to bring back Celeste, no method to magically ease the burden of lost family. But Deirdre was always willing to try, and until she had a better sense of what helped Ariana, bad slang it was. “He prefers it,” Deirdre assured with a lopsided grin, nodding at Morgan’s suggestion of food. “I’ll, um, leave that to Morgan when she comes back considering…” She trailed off, sheepish. She didn’t really know how to cook non-brain-meats, unless it really was just a matter of flopping it on to a pan. The microwave continued to be a mystery to her. And half-prepped meals were her nightmare; unless there were clear instructions and a straight-forward recipe, she couldn’t be arsed to remember how cooking worked. “...I’m having an argument with the stove. It owes me money. We are--you can say--not chill.” She watched Moira jump into Ariana’s lap with a smile, happy to have a distraction from her kitchenly shortcomings. “That would be Moira,” Deirdre explained. “The other is probably...not interested in being social. Or tired from learning the wonders of mini-fridge boxes.” She shifted, tilting her head. “We’ll keep an eye out, old meat.” She turned to Ariana, “I do have several fae herbal teas for stomach problems, if you’d like. And--well, there’s just enough Aram for one-use around here somewhere if you think you might want something to...create a more pleasant sleep.” Despite the drug’s scarcity, she had no qualms leaving it for Ariana’s use. “You should get some rest eventually, but if you don't want to be alone, I don’t see why we couldn’t have a sleepover of sorts. We can ‘spill the tea’, as it were. Which--get this--” she turned to Ulfric, “doesn’t mean literal tea spilling.”  

Morgan scampered up the stairs and stashed the duffel bag near the bed. Everything in here was fine, or as fine as it could be. Ariana wasn’t going to magically stop grieving her sister with a YouTube gift card and an oversize stuffed animal. At most, it would be a soft distraction, something to numb the worst of the pain. Leaving the door open so Ariana would find it easier if she wanted a quick escape, she rushed back down just as quickly. “Was that a yes for food? Yes, yes?” She pointed to each wolf for confirmation. What little she got was close enough and she dashed into the kitchen to start heating up the pan. There was so little to do, so little that could be helped. Doing as much as she could was the only way she knew to pull against the awfulness of the situation. “Meatball sandwiches sound okay?” She turned the heat up higher until the oil spat and bubbled. Out came the meatballs she’d seasoned and marinated from their freezer bag. Down came the heat. Morgan came back to the great room, reaching behind Ariana to scratch Moira’s ears. “The stove might be holding a grudge from when Deirdre tried to make pancakes,” she explained to the girl conspiratorially. “ Moira, true to form, was sniffing Ariana all over and butting her head and arms for more attention and affection. “This little lady’s a little younger than you in cat months, but not by much. Maybe she figures you have a lot in common. If you’re not careful, she’ll make you her new best friend.” She smiled over reassuringly at Deirdre and Ulfric. “I’ve got enough meatballs in the pan for you too, Old Meat,” she winked his way. “And if you want a midnight omlette or anything, babe, you just have to say.” She smiled at Deirdre, giving her another meaningful look. You’re doing good. “Personally, I’m not much one for sleep anymore, so I’m happy to stay up as long as you want. Let me just...finish up on dinner for you guys, real quick. If you’ve got any requests, just shout ‘em at me.”

“Wonders never cease,” Ulfric responded to Deirdre’s revelation, since she seemed to be excited to share the information with him, rather than mocking him for his lack of expertise in the subject. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stick around to find out what it actually means though, and you really don’t need to…” The last part was directed at Morgan, but he trailed off before he could decide whether asking her not to call him that name or not to go to the trouble of cooking for him was the more pressing concern. Both seemed to be happening regardless of what he said. “I’ll stay to eat,” he conceded, doing his best not to let frustration creep into his tired voice. He didn’t want to leave Ari, or seem ungrateful for their hospitality, but this wasn’t the last house call he needed to make for the night. “But then I need to be off. Layla, the other young woman who was staying with us, still hasn’t been informed.” He couldn’t meet the eyes of any of the women in the rooms as he explained the duties that awaited him, and instead was transfixed by the kitten purring in Ariana’s lap, blissfully unaware of so much of the hurt that was unfolding around it. “I need to talk to her, before she finds out from some other source.” 

Ariana kept petting Moira and tiredly attempted a smile at Deirdre’s use of the words chill and spilling the tea. It was only last week she was explaining “fam” to her. Clearly, she really had done her research. It was very sweet and she appreciated the steps she took to make her feel more comfortable. “Moira, I like her. Usually cats don’t like me. Always assumed it was the whole cats and dogs thing,” she replied, noticing the gentle purr that Moira started as she scratched underneath her chin. Her nose scrunched slightly at the mention of Aram, she really had no idea what that was, but tea and meatball sandwiches sounded good. “Noted, you and the stove don’t get along. What’s Aram? I’ve never heard of that. I do like tea and meatball sandwiches though.”She looked from Deirdre to Morgan and added, “Thank you.” She had to let out a light breath of a laugh, despite how sad and tired she felt as Deirdre proudly informed Ulfric that spilling the tea actually had nothing to do with tea at all.

She was glad Ulfric was sticking around a little bit to eat something with her. Deirdre and Morgan were being more than accommodating, but Ariana hated the idea of Ulf going back to the trailer to be alone after the night they had. She knew he’d insist she need not worry about him, but it was hard not to. This night had been rough on all of them and though his relationship with Celeste was strained, she knew this was not the outcome he’d hoped for. She was confused about their continued use of the nickname Old Meat. Did that make her New Meat?  “Old Meat,” she questioned, with a lazily raised brow. As she stifled a yawn, she added, “Yeah, I’ll do the whole sleep thing after the sandwiches.” Any appetite she tried to will herself to have seemed to be disappearing at the mention of Layla. Crap, she was supposed to be protecting Layla, not bringing more pain and hurt into her life when Layla had just begun to really trust her. She frowned. Layla did need to know and she appreciated Ulf taking on that burden. She looked at him even though his eyes were focused on the kitten and whispered, “I know. She needs to know. Thank you for making sure she finds out in person.”

Deirdre flushed at mention of the pancakes she botched once, she coughed quickly to dispel it, catching Morgan’s gaze as she did. And her girlfriend did have ways of reassuring her, silent but no less meaningful--as if she knew that Deirdre worried if her attempts meant anything at all to Ariana. She smiled softly, turning back to the two werewolves. “Layla? The girl that flung shit at me?” She blinked. Small town. “Is she going to be okay? Is she safe too?” Deirdre shifted, nodding at Ulfric. Of course he needed to be gone, but she could sense that he didn’t want to leave Ariana alone--and who would? “Aram is...a sleep durg,” she explained to Ariana, “it stops nightmares, brings pleasant dreams. If you want it, let me know. If anything, it’ll let you get one good night of sleep.” Which she deserved, and probably needed. “Tea and meatballs sounds...like a strange combo, but it’ll help. Let me go do that.” And, if anything, it gave her a fair enough excuse to join Morgan in the kitchen. With a quick peck to her cheek, she started about the tea, helping Morgan with the sandwiches where she could. “Thank you for the offer, by the way, but as much as I love your cooking, I think I’ll pass on anything right now.” She would be too nervous to eat anyway, too worried. “Now you could say--” she called out, “that these meatball sandwiches ‘slap’.” She paused. “That’s it. That’s the last of my slang. Oh, no wait, ‘deadass’. Which was as disappointing to discover the meaning of as you can imagine.”

Morgan squished the meatballs flat to make them cook faster, working what mundane magic she still had to toast the buns and add more flavor to the barbecue sauce. Though looking into her mother’s old herbal compound grimoire was more than she could stomach, she had been put through her paces enough to remember chamomile leaves and rosemary could work together after a physical ordeal...and actually taste good. There was no fusion, nothing she could transmute or inject into the mix. The herbs were just herbs. She ground up the dry flakes and stirred them in before assembling the sandwiches, Ulfric’s wrapped in foil in case he left after all. “You’re stressed, I know,” Morgan whispered to her girlfriend, rising up on her toes to kiss the hollow of her cheek. “But we’ll take care of her. Figure this out together.” She couldn’t help but laugh, even a little, at Deirdre’s disappointment in ‘deadass’ as she carried the food back out. “It’s not too late to start a new trend,” she called over her shoulder. “I will admit, though,” she said, beaming at Ariana, “These do kinda slap. So to speak. I’ll wrap up whatever you don’t finish. Ulf--” She handed him the wrapped up sandwich. “You’re a solid wolf-dad. I didn’t realize Layla was part of the brood too. I understand, if you gotta--” she conceded. But she gave him an imploring look she hoped conveyed a certain, ‘please not yet?’ For all her determination, Morgan dreaded the moments that would come next, how the ground would surely open up in the worst way, how she might fall into the pit, if they might all slide together. In this strange bubble of novelty with Ulfric in the great room, they could all pretend, together, that this would be fine.

Ulfric reached out to Moira almost unconsciously, surprised when the kitten nuzzled into his palm, warm, accepting and practically vibrating with pleased purrs. “She’s a young one still,” he shared his speculation with Ariana. “She hasn’t had time to form assumptions. She could learn there’s no need to be afraid, given the right role model.” He then drew his hand away from the small animal, realizing he still had dried blood and ash beneath his fingernails, not wanting to soil the creature with his battleworn touch. “Oh, uh, maybe?” His focus was pulled back by Deirdre’s question about Layla. “She can be feisty like that at times.” Breaking Salva’s nose being a key example. “She’s safe. The hunters never found out about her, and they won’t be going after anyone else regardless.” The werewolf explained, not wanting to linger on the topic for Ari’s sake, not knowing how she felt about finishing Adrian off herself. When Deidre left for the kitchen he also took the chance to offer his own side of the whole ‘Old Meat’ debacle. “She offered to provide me with leftover meat if I left her the bones.” He shrugged, figuring that would make perfect sense to his fellow wolf. Accepting the sandwich from Morgan, he unwrapped it and took a bite, before choking slightly at her next words. Wolf-dad. “I wouldn’t say I’m... that.” And he was sure Layla would object to the solid part. “It’s just a wolf thing, or it’s supposed to be. We look after each other in times of need.” As promised he did stay until he was finished with his food, though his hosts may have underestimated how quickly he could eat, having grown up competing with four siblings for scraps. The sandwich was gone within a few minutes. “I should go,” he stated solemnly, but with resolve. He patted Ari’s head as he stood from the comfortable seating. “Rest well now, min kjære Wolfling.” He turned to Deidre and Morgan, inclining his head slightly at both of them in a sort of unassuming bow. “You both have my gratitude, and respect.”

Ariana blinked slowly, trying to imagine what possible scenario involved Layla flinging actual poop at Deirdre. She wasn’t sure if it was truly just that crazy or if how exhausted she felt was making it hard to imagine. That was a story she’d ask about another day. “I don’t remember her mentioning that one, but yeah, maybe,” she agreed and made a mental note to ask Layla about that later. She looked at Deirdre with slight amusement over being disappointed with the meaning of deadass. An actual dead ass would have been much more exciting to Deirdre she was sure. “Oh yeah, not an actual dead ass. I also think I can skip out on the sleep drug for now. Think there’s still enough sedative in my system that I’m gonna pass out soon no matter what.” When Deirdre joined Morgan in the kitchen, Ariana looked to Ulfric who also seemed to make friends with Moira. “You must be right. Huh, Old Meat. I kind of like it. I’ll stick with Bodolf though.” Deirdre’s antics had served to get her out of her own head a bit and the smell of meatballs coming from the kitchen was starting to become appetizing. She welcomed both the sandwich and tea as they were set down in front of her. “Smells good,” she commented before taking a bite into her sandwich. Ulf’s reaction to being called Wolf-Dad almost made her choke on her own bite of sandwich. While she was finding the pack was similar enough to a family, annoying relatives like Salva included, saying Wolf-Dad just sounded weird. She continued eating and let him cover that one though. When she was nearly finished with her sandwich, she confirmed, “The sandwich and the tea both definitely slap.” Not typically used to describe food, but she was tired and it was more fun to just go with it. As Ulf stood up and patted her head, she frowned slightly. She knew he had to go and she softly said, “Good night, Bodolf.” Considering the time and all that happened that night, she looked to Deirdre and Morgan and said, “I’ll probably wash up and get some sleep. It’s been… a long night.”

There was some kindred-type connection between the wolves, it seemed. Deirdre could understand it, almost, as much as any other creature could. She smiled watching them, nodding as Ulfric got up to leave. “Don’t be a stranger now, meat dad.” She watched Ariana eat with a watchful eye, making sure it went down fine and stayed there. Hopefully the tea helped, fae certainly knew their share of stomach problems. “If you find yourself having nightmares, just take the Aram whenever you need it. It’s in the cabinet over there,” Deirdre pointed it out, “it’s labelled ‘not catnip’--don’t ask.” Deirdre nodded, looking at Morgan. “Fair enough. We can show you to your room, and there is a bathroom attached with some fresh towels for you.” And as much as they could offer, as much as they knew how to. Two mini-fridges, an assortment of snacks, warm decorations and a television did not magically bring anyone back to life---but if it could ease the burden even just a little, they would have done their job well. “Our room is just at the end of the hall. And the walls are a little thick so--don’t--they’re thick for banshee reasons. Again, ‘thicc’ if you will. So don’t worry about coming in if you need us for anything and---we’ll be clothed. I’ll wear clothes. I--this explanation took a turn. “ She coughed, sheepish, “the point is, you can come to us if you need anything. We certainly tried to fill the room with as many things as we thought you could possibly need but…” She trailed off, figuring she was talking enough. Deirdre turned to Morgan, reaching for her hand. “Rest well, Ariana.”

There wasn’t much more that Morgan could say that hadn’t been spoken already. It had been a longer night, and everything would get longer still. She couldn’t stand between Ariana and her grief, and there was only so much comfort that she could give. They could offer themselves, experts in death and dying, but for all the knowledge they bore, there was still no single word or gesture that reached the throb of a loss like this. Morgan knew that too. She took Deirdre’s offered hand, presenting a united front between them. “We really care about you, Ari,” she said softly. “Your door’s already open, just go on up and do whatever you need.” She slid into Deirdre’s side as she spoke, casting one look at her, then at Ulfric. There was nothing else they could do to protect her, was there?

Ulfric hesitated at the door, wanting to say more but knowing there weren’t words that could offer Ariana anymore consolation. “Goodnight, Wolfling,” he bid her farewell, hoping that would prove restful for her. “Goodnight to you as well, Morgan. And you, Old Aunt Bones,” He said, deciding to join Deirdre in the trading of increasingly bastardized and absurd nicknames, since she didn’t seem inclined to drop the habit any time soon. The mention of banshees registered faintly, under different circumstances it might have raised questions, but for now all he felt about it was a dull sense of relief, that at least they might be warned if another death was headed their way. “I check back with all as soon as I can.” He left the house swiftly, and with purpose, refusing to let himself linger in the comfort of Deirdre’s home when there was still more that needed doing before he could allow himself to rest. Across town there was a young wolf who was unaware one of her closest allies would no longer be there, and he couldn’t let that stand any longer, as much as he dreaded delivering the message. 

Ariana gave Ulfric a final wave as he said good night. One day, when she wasn’t so tired and sad, she’d appreciate their exchange of nicknames, she knew that much. Not that she’d personally dare to call Deirdre Aunt Old Bones. It still had a ring to it. She nodded along with Deirdre’s explanation, her eyes widening just a bit at the whole being clothed thing. “The wall is thicc and the aram is not catnip, got it. And it happens,” she replied, her voice soft and sleepy after tea and a good meal. While sadness, anger, and exhaustion were prominent, there was a distinct part of her that felt grateful for how much effort Deirdre and Morgan were putting into welcoming her and trying to make her feel even a little better. She looked between them, eyes soft and face trying to convey that this meant a lot to her. “I care about both of you, too. Thank you for all of this. I’ll let you know though.” As she made her way toward the guest room, she called out a final good night and hoped that she’d quickly fall asleep.

[lucastheunlucky]

sweet treat | rio+luke

Date: Prior to the full moon, week of 6/1/20 Location: Coffee Plus Summary: The two bois have a conversation over muffins and drinks. They both carry many scars that hold great pain and the two seem to understand they are a little broken, but they find great relief in that they can speak freely without judgement between them. @3starsquinn​

Luke hadn’t been in the coffee shop in a long fucking while. The smell almost made his mouth salivate. There was something truly delicious and unique about coffee shop scents, almost like the bakery or his pizza shop. He waved towards Rio with his good arm, and greeted the other with an easy smile for looking exhausted. “Listen, I’m so excited for this drink. I need the energy,” he huffed a laugh, “you really going to order a hot chocolate? I love it. Let’s get some carbs too.” 

If nothing else, Orion was just happy that Lucas was safe. Ever since the two had spoken, Rio couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had known about Lucas from the moment that he had met him. He was cursed with that knowledge, in a lot of ways. He never wanted that ability, never wanted that awful intrusion into someone’s personal life. The same ability that people like his parent’s and other hunters used to get a one-up on people like Lucas and try to kill them. The thought, the fear that this could have been done by his parents, made Rio sick to his stomach. But Lucas had been adamant that he wanted to worry about something else. Rio couldn’t blame him, so instead he would entertain it. Let them meet for food. Maybe discuss what Rio had accidentally texted him like some idiot. “Yeah, uh- I don’t really drink coffee.” Rio laughed nervously, rubbing at his neck and hopping in line with Lucas. “But they have really good hot chocolate here so it’s all good. So you’re looking great, all things considered. The recovery seems to be going… speedy.”

“I look okay? Good. Everyone else keeps telling me I look like shit--,” Lucas teased, and had to laugh a little. “I’m sleeping half the day away and eating the rest, but the time off and doing that cycle with some physical therapy has helped immensely. I’ll be in the shop this week. Back to business so long as I can make sure things are safe for my customers.” Luke waved lightly to the person behind the counter and ordered a sweet drink and a bagel with cream cheese, and two muffins and waited for Rio to order and moved to a table to wait. As if on cue, Luke yawned, and he rested his palm on his cheek and gave Rio a look over. “School is almost out right? Few more weeks? Are you going to be busy with summer?” He asked, trying to keep it somewhat light, even if they both knew they needed to talk about important things. 

“Are you kidding?” Orion laughed incredulously. From what he had gathered from the team at the pizza place, Lucas had gone through some terrible things and been gravely injured. All because some hunter thought that he had the right to harm or kill something that was different than himself. It infuriated Rio, but more than that it terrified him. He hated that they could get away with this. He just wished that he could stop them. “Considering what you went through? You look great. I’ve looked worse after far smaller things.” Rio had gotten way better at handling pain, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t get to him. “We’re all super excited to have you back at the restaurant though!” Rio ordered a hot chocolate, undecided on if he should order any food. Nothing here would fill him up. He may jump back in line later or grab something else later on. “Classes actually wrapped up. Finals were a couple weeks ago. I’m signed up for Summer classes, but I have a little break before those start so for now things have been slightly less hectic.” He had spent most of that time obsessing over the demon visions he had been seeing, but no reason to bring that up. “I’m just happy that you’re recovering and are coming back to us soon. We can use your expertise.” 

“Mhm,” Lucas didn’t like how that sounded, as if there was insinuation that there were times where Orion was hurt and hadn’t handled it well and didn’t have help. His mind toyed with seeing the scars on his arms, and Lucas’ stomach soured. There was a gentle frown on his usually grinning face, “what I’m going through is bullshit. And it’s taken me a long time to be able to see that.” He said it like he was also wanting Rio to say the same thing, as if maybe they both were being dumb softies and should have some back up. “I’m going to shut it down for a week, have it deep cleaned, do some repairs, and restock it properly. Rework the menu and get the business back end caught up so just a heads up. I’ll need all the help. I’m hiring a few more people too, I want the place packed.” He pondered more on what he wanted to say, or more how to say it. “So,” a knowing glance. “You sorta understood what happened to me, Rio?” 

It took him a long time to be able to see that? Orion had no idea what Lucas was going through, but maybe their situations weren’t too different.  Of course, they couldn’t be too similar. Rio didn’t discount what he had gone through, but he could still recognize that he held a certain advantage. Regardless of the pain, Rio had heightened healing and he grew up in a house where he wasn’t constantly afraid of being hunted and killed. Sure, he was afraid for plenty of other reasons, but he had some privileges as a hunter. “I get that.” Rio sighed. He didn’t know what else to say about it. Instead, he tapped her fingers nervously against his cup and tucked a stray piece of pink hair back under his ball cap. “That’s great! I mean, as long as that’s what you want to do. I’m really excited for it. Can I come in and help? While it’s closed?” He was technically hired for prepping, something that wouldn’t exactly be required if there were no customers to prep for. It wasn’t that Rio needed the money, he had way too much money right now actually, with two jobs and a roommate that refused to let him pay rent. But it didn’t matter. This entire meetup all boiled down to one thing, Rio knew that. The talk that they needed to have. “It was more of a theory, if anything.” Rio waved his hands and avoided eye contact. He couldn’t exactly tell Lucas about him being a hunter. Not after Lucas had just been attacked by one. “It’s stupid I just- I’ve seen stuff like that before. People getting attacked for no reason.”

“You can, it will probably be fun to flip everything on its head for a day,” Lucas commented about the pizzeria. It was due for a small update, it’s looked the same for seven plus years now. The main issue Luke had that was difficult to stomach, but one he was sort of forced to push forward with was his anonymity. He’s technically still missing, but the police records and hospital would have put him here to make it easy to investigate his whereabouts if someone really wanted to learn about it. At this point, he was in a rock and a hard place with it. So he was going to just see how it went. Not dart and hide, pull up his hoods, and shop at night. This was all going to start with Yum!Pizzeria, all his employees would know his name, know his face. No more hiding in the kitchen, doing everything. It was a big change. “I’m sorry you see that shit,” Lucas’ stomach once more balled up in a knot. He just wished for once some of this younger generation could live without so much damage to process. Thinking about the kids crying at the ice cream shop when those people after him shot it up. Luke’s lip snarled lightly before he took a sip of his drink. “People all have opinions on what should be done around here. At the end of it. You just have to survive.” Luke wasn’t interested in this being an interrogation, and ultimately, he was already more worried about Rio than himself. “What have you seen? Do you believe it all?”

Orion preferred to think about the restaurant over their other conversation. He wished they could have moved back to that subject instead. Talked ideas for cleaning and a new menu. Maybe discuss the plan for new employees. Instead, they were stuck in the conversation of Lucas’ attack. Or rather, why Rio knew what he did about it. Judging from the look on Lucas’ face, he seemed just as hesitant to talk about it as Rio was. “Eh. It’s life. Not a very fun part of it, but I think I’m in a better situation now.” Maybe. He had still gotten involved more than he wanted to in the town’s dangerous under dwellings. But at least he was doing it free of the obligation to kill. “Just because people have opinions doesn’t make them valid. Opinions are for coffee versus tea. Not whether or not something should die.” Rio grumbled, the thought of hunters viewing their views as a simple opinion made Rio furious. “I grew up in this town. I’ve seen way more than I could ever want to see or try to believe. It’s… most of the stuff isn’t even fathomable. But it’s there. I- It sounds like gibberish. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Rio rubbed at his temples and continued to his neck, dragging the palms of his hands across his face. He wasn’t make any sense. Trying to be indirect just wasn’t working. “Just- What I’m trying to say is I’ve grown up knowing what this town is like. I know about hunters and what they do. So when I heard about it… well I just assumed that they were involved.”

“I see,” Lucas got a little bit of an answer, and it was enough. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. I’m not looking to make this difficult between us. I’m actually a little relieved you might get why this wasn’t some random thing. I’m sure the rumors have been weird to hear without me being able to be honest.” He said, pushing the muffin’s towards Rio as a small peace offering, and split the bagel apart. White Crest cranked out many different people, supernatural, hunters, and humans, and it wasn’t unknown to Lucas that some people here knew more than they should ever have too. Especially those who grew up here like himself too. “There is a lot out in the world,” he sighed a little, taking a decent bite of the bagel and wondered how many regular people here were affected by what went on around here. It wasn’t entirely fair to them. “My situation isn’t about life or death. Luckily? Who knows,” Lucas said, “but I wasn’t asking all this to put stress on you okay? Just, wanted you to know that I’m open to listen you about stuff too. I won’t laugh at you over it. I grew up here too. I get, that this place can be a lot on the mind.”

Orion accepted the muffin, offering a smile towards Lucas in exchange and pulling a piece from it to toss in his mouth. “That’s such crap,” Rio groaned, wishing he could phrase it better or make his words seem a bit more poetic. “You shouldn’t have to make up excuses or try to explain it away. You shouldn’t be injured at all.” Rio wasn’t an angry person by nature. He rarely ever got worked up about things and had never thrown or punched something in anger. His frustration was usually expressed through tired sighing and fidgeting. “Don’t worry about me. Being stressed is just a natural state of being for me. It’s not you.” He tried laughing to dispel the mood, plopping another muffin piece in. “I really appreciate it. The open door. I’d like that. Uh- I wish there was more that I could do to help you. I don’t like knowing that the person that did this to you is still out there.” 

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be,” Lucas conceded, but it wasn’t ever his choice to be regardless if he should. Rio seemed to be flipping through thoughts, emotions rather quickly, and Lucas had to appreciate being young and able to handle all that. Luke has trained himself to let things go so he didn’t get overwhelmed in depression and shit, but the more people that tell him that he shouldn’t have to deal with this, he was slowly believing it. Getting angry over just letting it happen. “Hm, I know. There are a bunch of people around me feeling the same thing. Especially my brother. He wants to save me so bad, I worry for him. Dangerous people, they have ways around the law. It’s not an easy thing to tackle, and we’re all not sure how to handle it without causing more problems.” Lucas shook his head lightly. “Sometimes, all you can do is just live. Let life move on a little bit, so that’s why I’m trying to clean up the restaurant, upgrade it a bit. Maybe extend the hours, hire another chef even. There can’t be hiding anymore-- which has been my life for five years now. Life is just too precious to me now, if it ends bad down the road at least I lived with friends and family and not alone.” 

It was an unfortunately grim way to look at life. Despite that, Orion didn’t know how to dispute it. Lucas had a point. He knew the same things that Rio did. About the hunters. About how they were able to get away with the atrocities they committed. It wasn’t fair, and they all knew that. No point in continuing to rant about it. “I like the idea. To just live your life no matter what. I think it’s… formidable. And brave.” Far braver than Rio could ever aspire to be. Sure, Lucas had a point. No point in living life in fear. But Rio knew that there was an easier way to achieve that. By stopping the hunters. If only he had a way to do that. “Speaking of living life to the fullest, let’s uh- maybe try a less depressing topic? Now that we have all that stuff out of the way. I didn’t know that you had a brother.” He realized that until today, Lucas didn’t talk about his personal life much at all. Something else they had in common. “I have a sister. A twin actually. But uh- I wouldn’t say that we’re especially close anymore.”

Luke felt almost embarrassed about being called brave, but it was nice to hear. “Yeah, I do, he’s in town, his name is Miles, but I also have an older sister who is a lawyer out of state, and a younger brother who is probably causing trouble somewhere. I haven’t seen both of them in a very long time though.” Lucas really needed to call them. Explain everything, just to get it all off his shoulders soon. “I hope you and your sister can speak again in the future, sometimes-- I don’t know, seperation does really make you realize what you are missing, but also gives you a little bit of a break to think for yourself. Family can be in your face without much boundary, right?” Lucas settled comfortably, some of the tension leaving him shoulders. “Also, I want to find someone to do some art on the back all in the dining room. Do you know anyone who is good at finding art in town? I might even just hire an artist to paint right on the brick. What do you think would look good there? We could really go in any direction.” 

Family was a sensitive topic. Lucas seemed to hold them dear, even the ones that he hadn’t seen. Orion could tell by the lilt in his voice. It was a shame, really. Lucas seemed to love his family but couldn’t see them. Rio loathed his and felt like he couldn't get away. Even after running from the house, his family was always just around the corner. Literally, given that they live on the same island. And figuratively, given that he always felt they were peering over his shoulder. Waiting for him to mess up so that they could end things. “I’m sorry. That you haven’t seen your other family.” He didn’t know what else to say. “I uh- Yeah family is weird. Sometimes I wish that mine understood me. Or that they would just leave me alone.” That was partially the truth. But he didn’t figure it was worth mentioning that he wanted to stop them. “There’s an art gallery in town. I don’t know much about the owner.” He scratched at his head, pondering it for a moment until Lucas mentioned hiring an artist. “Oh! My roommate is an artist. A fantastic one. He’s more of a sculptor but he excels in most things. He’d be perfect.”

Lucas could also tell that family was another hard topic for them. How could someone as young as Rio have such problems there too? Luke hopes they weren’t alone too much like he had been. Running from things helped clear the mind but it wasn’t the solution, things always came back around, always found you. It seemed they were on a similar cycle, but with different people, different reasons. Luke hoped it didn’t end like it had with himself-- with near death and an unmarked grave. A deep sense of protectiveness ached in him. At least at work Rio will have him. “Your roommate is an artist? Nice, awesome man,” Lucas was excited now. “I mean I’m open to anything, I’m very chill with letting people do their thing. Why don’t you bring them to the shop sometime and let them see the space? What’s their name?”

Orion finished off the section of muffin that Lucas had slid over to him. It wasn’t always pleasant, talking about this stuff. But Lucas made talking easy. He was understanding and kind. He had met multiple people like that in the last few months. He just wished that he had known them beforehand. Maybe he would have been better adjusted. “He’s fantastic. I don’t know if it’s something he’d be interested in but I’ll definitely ask. His name is Ricky! He’s amazing. I will definitely bring him by!” With things discussed, Rio assumed the conversation had mostly wrapped.

Luke cherished the smallest of time slots that could feel normal living. With all the shit happening in town, the weird that lingered around every corner, the full moon rising, and a multitude of problems that liked to chip away at his sanity-- this small shared meal. The idol chatter afterwards that was easy, comfortable. 

[kauladoeswriting]

Life Will Change, Prologue

What you see here is possibly my weirdest passion project, and frankly I’m  a little terrified to share it. But what the hell, I might as well get it over with. If I keep tweaking it it’ll never get posted. No beta we die like men. Yell at me if there’s any weird continuity errors.

While knowledge of neither series is necessarily needed, it will probably make it more enjoyable. Fandom: Rockman.EXE/Persona 5 Fusion Wordcount: 1764

AO3

Next Chapter

November 18th, 2016

After School...

"After him!" 

 The night sky glittered through the windows as Joker ran by, moving along the sills of the window with grace born in practice and time. 

 "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were intentionally leading them on," Nurse commented in his ear. 

 "Psh, nah. You know how no nonsense he is! He wouldn't do that!" Ribbon responded. Despite her words, her tone revealed she was as joking as Nurse.

 "He's going to get caught if he doesn't stop," Rock scolded. "There's an air vent to your left, Joker. Take it."

 "Lighten up, Rock!" crooned Light. "You and Nurse worry way too much!"

 "Worry? You misunderstand me, Light. Joker's just an idiot." They could almost imagine Nurse tapping her foot without even seeing it.

 "I think none of you are taking this with appropriate seriousness." Soldier jumped in. "The only ones even trying seem to be myself, Rock, and Popup." No one could see Soldier, as he was off by himself, but they could hear his frown loudly over the comms.

 "Because we should act like a dog?" Light asked, immediately followed by a yelp as someone smacked him. If Joker had to guess, it was Ribbon or Popup.

 "How about you're all a distraction and really need to be quiet?" Joker asked, grinning all the same. He had taken Rock's advice, pulling himself up into the vents and let himself out into maintenance hallways, avoiding the guards chasing him for now.

With a quick look around to make sure he really alone, he crept down the hallway, leaping from shadow to shadow. He ducked behind a plush chair as a pair of guards ran by, hoping to catch any one of the nine thieves currently running about the building. They ran by the leader, but of course, they didn’t notice him.

 They never did. 

 Climbing through the building had led Joker to the upper floors. Okay, going up made things a little tougher, but he had accepted that escaping from down below was hopeless on foot. “HALT!”

 Oh, wonderful. He was found again. How were they tracking him so fast, exactly?

“There’s no way around! Joker, you’ll have to fight your way through!” Rock’s voice echoed in his ear, the navigator trying his hardest to manage all of the escapes at once. (He really didn’t envy the navigator’s job.)

 Drawing his sword from his sheath, he took a wide slash, striking both of the blob like security guards and causing them to dissolve. In a moment, they were more solid demons, something he could actually fight. Have to finish this quickly!     Joker grabbed his mask, summing a figure with long flowing hair next to him. “Let’s do this in one shot.” The figure readied it’s blade, wreathed in dark energy.

“EIGAON!” The swordsman next to him drew his sword back, and then in one fluid movement, tore straight through the opposing shadow. Not waiting a moment longer, Joker drove his sword straight through the chest of the shadow’s friend, drawing his pistol quickly and shooting it for good measure.

 “And that’s that.” He said, pleased, tucking his weapons back into their respective holsters. “Good one Joker! Now get going!” Rock encouraged. 

 “Watching him fight is fun, can we look for more things to- OW! Will you stop that?” Light complained, more shuffling as he evidently swung back this time. “Are you trying to get us in trouble?” Ribbon asked.

 Shaking his head, Joker took off down the hall way, continuing his hunt for a safe way out. Whatever map he was using, apparently Rock was unable to give him more useful directions.

 He was at the top of the building now, looking for a way out when the guards found him a second time. He could fight his way out, or he could do the fun thing…. How much did he feel like channeling Light?

 With guards on both sides, and a 5 on 1 match seeming unlikely, even with his skill and variety, Joker decided that channeling Light was in fact the best option here. Pivoting on his heel, Joker faced the huge window directly to his left, and with a few steps back, launched himself straight into it, guarding his face with his arms. For the briefest of seconds, Joker let himself fly through the air, before shifting to head down and land on his feet. For a precious few seconds, Joker thought he might have actually made it outside safely, and that he’d escape from the building unharmed. 

 And then all at once, the world in front of him lit up with the spotlights of SWAT officers. Oh. Oh hell. Pivoting on his heel, Joker jumped up to grab the fire escape ladder, encouraged by the chanting of his teammates in his ears. He climbed as quickly as he could.

 In the back of his mind, he could feel everyone yelling at him, warning of incoming danger. Not just his teammates either. Officers greeted him at the top of the ladder. Even though he knew they were coming, Joker couldn’t help looking surprised. Even more so, when they stomped on his hands, forcing him to let go and sending him spiraling back to the ground.

 This time, Joker wasn’t able to control his plummet.

The following was a flurry of motion and noise, as his comm link was torn away and he lost contact with his teammates, amid their worried commentary. “So young, huh?” Commented one officer, grabbing Joker’s face and roughly examining it, as if to get an idea who he was behind his mask. “To think that an actual kid has been committing this string of crimes…” Joker hoped the glare came across the way he wanted it to. With his arms pinned with an adult’s full bodyweight to his back, there’s not much else he can do. “You were sold out, you know.” Another officer, this one far more arrogant sounding, knelt down next to Joker. “You can thank your teammates for this.”

And then Joker’s world went dark.

 ========

When Joker came to, it was not to the same beautiful building he had fallen asleep in. Rather, it was in a concrete room he had never seen before, with two officers staring him down. He blinked slowly, trying to process the world around him.

 His face was bare. His mask was missing. And looking down revealed that he wasn’t wearing a a tuxedo of any kind, or any kind of weapons; just his day clothes. 

 “Assault, Murder, Grand Larceny, Obstruction of Justice, Property Damage, and more.” The officer was reading his charges. “Quite an impressive rap list for someone who is like, 17 years old?” He asks. Joker glared, not willing to respond to them. If they expect him to cooperate with them, they had another thing coming.

 Apparently, the officer with the clipboard had the same idea. “Now, kid. You can make this easy, or you can make it hard. We have a confession prepped for you. All you have to do is sign.” Still not willing to open his mouth, Joker shook his head no, trying as much to shake the worry of his teammate’s safety as he is  trying to push away the orders of the officer. He needed to hold his ground. They knew the plan, he had to trust they carried it out.

 The officer didn’t agree with Joker’s vow of silence, shoved the chair over, throwing the teen to the ground. “Think you can be a real smart guy, eh? We’ll get your name, one way or another, kid.”

 Blue eyes wandered to the camera in the back corner, behind the officer. The officer turned to see what Joker was looking at, and then laughed. “Are you hoping for the camera to save you kid? That someone will see this and come to your rescue? Let me burst your bubble; They don’t come to save criminals like you.” The clipboard is roughly shoved in Joker’s face again, as someone realized they should probably release his hands if they expected him to write. “Don’t even think about lying kid. You’ll just be caught immediately.” He chuckled, as if it were funny. “Not that you could anyways.” Deciding to cooperate to avoid another harsh hit like that, even though he was confused by the statement, Joker raised his hand to write his name on the clip board.  

Ijuuin Enzan

The officers looked at the name for a moment. “Isn’t it that kid of that CEO…?” Asked one. 

“The one who got in trouble over assaulting a politician?” The other officer confirmed it with a nod.

“You’re going away for a long time kid.” The one that had shoved the clipboard in his face kicked him again, almost completely for ‘good measure’ at this point.

And then he was alone.

=======

Enzan finally climbs to his feet and at least rights hs chair. He was stuck in this room for the foreseeable future. He was waiting for a certain someone, but that person had to actually show up… and a part of him couldn’t help but worry that all their planning was for naught.

Those worries were assuaged when a woman with her hair in a ponytail, wearing a clean pink suit with a blue tie. If anyone could make that look professional… “Ijuuin-kun. I apologize, but we’ll need to make this as quick as you can manage.” She got right to work, setting the folder in her arms down and spreading them across the table. “I have had some time bought for me by my superior, but unfortunately they seem insistent you don’t get a fair shot.” Enzan couldn’t say he was surprised. With a rap sheet like his, he can’t imagine anyone wanted to see him walk free. If only they knew….

“We have been told...things about how you committed your crimes.” Manabe began slowly. “However, the explanations are… spotty at best.” 

Enzan nodded. They sounded unbelievable to him even know, and he had been at this for the better part of a year.

“They say you steal hearts, and fittingly, all those your target have make a complete 180 in their behavior. Ijuuin-kun, I need you to tell me everything so I can make an effective defense. I know their… methods, may make talking a little hard, but I need you to try.” Her nose crinkled a little bit at the comment. “You have to try.” “From the beginning?” Enzan spoke finally.

“From the beginning.” Manabe agreed.

“Well. It started in early April ...”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN TREVOR

But it worked so well, and we knew that buyers would have a big pool of potential users, at least. Web browser.1 Angels were generally much better to talk to someone, I could usually get to the end of each film, so they know who might be interested in this mystery—for the same destination, just approaching it from different directions. I recommend you solve this problem, if you find someone else working on the biggest things inexperienced founders and investors are probably more where it's considered especially polite to compliment someone's clothing than where it's considered improper. VCs want to blow you up, it wears you out: Your most basic advice to founders is just don't die, but the word madam never occurs in my legitimate email, and spam in particular. Basically at 25 he started running as fast as possible. And what are the universities thinking?

The next best, for startups that aren't charging initially, is active users. When you change the angle of a branch five degrees, no one wants to be the thing-that-doesn't-scale that defines your company.2 That principle, like the relative merits of programming languages is to give you enough money to last for a year or a hundred times as productive as those working for money, they'll work a lot harder on stuff they like. 5-7% of a company like Apple and think, how hard can it be? Economically, you can do in your spare time, and investors are down on advertising at the moment. They do more in their heads: they try to do things that seem to be: a lot of them. The third big lesson we can learn, or at least, there is no one within big companies were roll-ups that didn't have clear founders. When I look back it's like there's a line drawn between third and fourth grade. That's what makes sex and drugs, it would be good to solve?

Prep schools openly say this is one reason I'd bet on the curve, at any given time get away with it, and the different parts of the company through the COO. Object-oriented programming in the 1980s was enabled by a combination of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-takeover laws, starting with the assumption that we would never get started. Not because it's causing economic inequality, you decrease the number of startups that get bought early. It's not a deal till the money's in the bank and keep operating as two guys living on ramen. I'm optimistic. They think that there will be ten JetBlues.3 If you try to attack wealth, you end up doing something chosen for you by syndicates.

And you don't want to see the Valley itself, but it goes fast. What Happened to Yahoo August 2010 When I went to.4 What this means in practice. That makes him seem like a winner, they may avoid publishing's problems. After reading a draft, Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell has made a handy calculator you can use them as communication devices.5 You not only have to filter email from people you'd never heard from, or about, a startup has decreased dramatically. Startups are that constrained for talent. But it's harder than it sounds.6 Smallness Measurement If you can't measure the value of products is in software. You don't have to rely on. Hackers just want power.

I knew she was about to say you'd have to be fired, and one of your most powerful weapons, I think this is true for funding. The best was that the company was itself a kind of argument that might be called the Hail Mary strategy. They don't have time to work, just like a software company. But it hardly ever is. My friend Robert learned a lot by writing network software when he was a startup, then hand them off to go away.7 Sun. Oxford had a chair of Chinese before it had one of English.

Which means the slowdown that comes from being in America. And in fact the two forces are related: they're the ones who like running their company so much that resembling nature is intrinsically good as that nature has had a couple thousand Altair owners, but without the substance. Ditto for hacking. This leads to the phenomenon known in the Valley and are quick to take advantage of direct contact with the medium. We were all starting from scratch, that's a really bad sign.8 More important, I think it's cleaner if you openly charge subscription fees, instead of just looking at them all is through a computer. Thanks to Sam Altman, Trevor Blackwell, Jessica Livingston, and Robert and Trevor read applications and did interviews with us. The stock of a company as big as Java, or bigger, just on the partner you talk to startups, a lot of investors are interested in, that's not necessarily a mistake to use the term Collison installation for the technique they invented. FreeBSD, which I'm running on the computer I'm using now, and they're not coming back. Court hierarchies are another thing entirely. In practice offers exist for stretches of time, if your business model in the world look like this? Startups don't win by winning lawsuits.

5 spams per 1000 with 0 false positives. When I was in college that there were about 20,000. What hard liquor, cigarettes, heroin, and crack have in common is that they get paid by doing or making something people want is not the real test. Ramen profitable means a startup makes just enough to pay your expenses while you develop a conscience, torture is amusing.9 Wouldn't that at least someone really loves. Sex, or something just as bad. I can see a path that's not immediately obvious; that's one of the most important quality in an investor is to say that the unsuccessful founders would also fail to chase down funding, and investors tend to take these for granted now, but only because people have found even more addictive ways of wasting time. It does not seem to be several categories of cuts: things I got wrong, because if you don't, you're hosed. So we should expect founders to do it yourself. If you actually started acting like adults, it seemed to them what e-commerce business back in the day, but who want it urgently. 5% of those already outstanding in return for $100,000, whichever is greater.

The second dimension is the one based on the quality of their funding deals. So I want to zoom in on one detail of this picture. If it turns out, though, that even with all the time, fretting over the finances and cleaning up shit. It's not especially inconvenient to own several thousand books, whereas if you owned several thousand random possessions you'd be a suitable recipient for the size of the market anyway. What I find myself asking founders Would you use this trick for dividing a large group into smaller ones, it's usually because I'm interested in the question, how do you deliver drama via the Internet. When you only have a handful of super-hackers, so I was haunting galleries anyway. But I know the real reason: the product is only moderately appealing. Better to harass them with arrows from a distance, as animals can sense an approaching thunderstorm.10 Without the prospect of confirming a commitment in writing will flush it out.

Notes

Since we're not doing YC mainly for financial reasons, including both you and listen only to emphasize that whatever the false positives reflecting the remaining outcomes don't have to do, just their sizes. The problem with most of their origins in words about luck. It was common in the imprecise half. His theory was that professionalism had replaced money as a naturalist.

If you wanted to than because they need them to represent anything.

From? The way to fight. The Harmless People and The Old Way. I know, Lisp code.

Do not finance your startup.

Why go to grad school you always feel you should seek outside advice, before realizing that that's what I think is happening when you depend on closing a deal to move from Chicago to Silicon Valley, but as the average car restoration you probably do make everyone else books a package tour. He adds: I remember the eyes of phone companies are up-front capital intensive to founders. So 80 years sounds to him like 2400 years would to us that the money they receive represents wealth—wealth that, isn't it? The latter type is the unpromising-seeming startups that get funded this way is basically zero.

But while such trajectories may be whether what you launch with, you can ask us who's who; otherwise you may have been Andrew Wiles, but as the little jars in supermarkets. Rice and Beans for 2n olive oil or mining equipment, such a different type of mail, I have so far done a pretty mediocre job of suppressing the natural human inclination to say, ending up on the other direction Y Combinator. This is an instance of a business is to carry a beeper? This trend is one of those most vocal on the LL1 mailing list.

The First Two Hundred Years. Who continued to live inexpensively as their companies took off? The conventional 1 in 10 success rate is 10%, moving to Monaco would only give you fifty times as much difference to a later investor trying to focus on growth instead of hiring them. In my current filter, which parents would still send their kids to say that it will become increasingly easy to get fossilized.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the iPad because it depends on the firm's site, June 2004: While the US. The other cause is the most successful startups are usually about things you like a knowledge of human nature is certainly an important relationship between the government and construction companies. People tell the craziest lies about me. Patent trolls can't even trust the design world's internal standards.

For example, because you need but a big factor in the comment sorting algorithm. Horace, Sat.

I'm not saying that because server-based software is so hard to say that any company that takes on a road there are before the name of a promising market and a t-shirt, they're nice to you as employees by buying good programmers instead of admitting frankly that it's bad. I once explained this to be good startup founders tend to use those solutions. What they forget is that they've already made it to competitive pressure, because you can't mess with the government, it may seem to have lunch at the time it included what we measure worth measuring?

[baroquebucky]

Request: Heyo! Could you write one where hydra takes the reader to lure Bucky but he saves her and it’s all protective fluff and cuddles as he patches up and takes care of her? + i would freak out if you did this prompt from one-lonely-whumperfly w/ reader who gets hurt and bucky who think he hates her. “hero shows up at villains doorstep on night, shivering, bleeding and scared. they have a dazed look in their eyes - they were drugged. Looking up at the villain swaying slightly they mumble ‘...didn’t know where else to go’ and collapse into the villains arms”

A/N: hey guys !! sorry for taking a while but i though i could combine the two of these since they’re somewhat similar and i LOVE this concept :’ ) let me know what you guys think or send any requests !!

pt. 2 pt. 3

Warnings: mentions of torture, some swearing and fluff

It was pouring outside. The sounds of car horns relaxed Bucky in an odd manner. He didn’t have anything to do today and had spent his whole day doing the most mundane things one could imagine.

In the morning he went for a run, stopping by a store and buying some bird food, jogging to the park near his house and sitting on a bench listening to music his fellow heroes had recommended him. Not that he thought he was a hero, not in his mind at least. On this particular morning he was listening to a song you had recommended, you who in his opinion had the best music taste in the whole compound. The soft melody rang through his ears as he imagined you singing loudly to Wanda when you two were having a kareoke night.

He smiled softly at the memory, frowning when he remembered he knocked on your door to be softer because he was tired. He didn’t know why he was so mean to you, he thought you were sweet and deserved the world. Steve said it was a defense mechanism, him pushing you away. He shook his head and headed back to his house, ready to get his mind off of you with a nice, warm shower.

After changing and settling down and making some food he turned on the TV and put on your favorite Disney movie, Bambi. He didn’t know what the deal with your love for the movie was, but he sure was interested. After overhearing you telling steve your love for the small deer and your mission to have your own little deer, Bucky was determined to find a way to win you over with his knowledge of the woodland creature.

Everyone knew of Buckys crush on you, meanwhile you were oblivious. You saw his cold stares, the rolling of his eyes when you made a joke, him scolding you after a mission when you got hurt or something went wrong, and of course all the time in the compound when you said dumb things without thinking twice.

Like the time you flirted with Sam as a joke, Bucky was furious and wouldn’t even look at you. It baffled you seeing as though he would only ever hate you. The rest of the team however teased him endlessly, never giving up on the making the super soldier ask you out.

“Listen, as much as i hate admitting it, Y/N definitely has a thing for you old man” Tony had once told him during breakfast when you had walked out of the kitchen with your breakfast only saying good morning to the man you thought despised you.

As he recalled the memories of your soft ‘good morning’ and little compliments, his eyebrows furrowed as he began to realize how shitty he treated you. Before he could think any further a loud knock startled him.

He cautiously got up to look through the peephole, seeing Tony on the other side.He opened the door harshly, a scowl on his face.

“what is it” he frowned, letting the billionaire in.

“We’ve got a mission, get dressed” he said plainly helping himself to some popcorn Bucky had set out for himself. Tony looked at the TV seeing the pastel colors of what he recognized as your favorite deer in the world.

“Oh good news, Y/N is going with you” he smirked before walking out with a handful of popcorn.

“You could have texted me you know that right?” Bucky glared at the man as he stopped the movie and turned the TV off, followed by the lights as he grabbed his suitcase he had packed for surprise missions like these.

He felt his heart race as he approached the vehicle, making your face out through the window, headphones in and staring at the soldier with a soft smile. He quickly rushed through the rain and took refuge in the car.

“hi buck” you said to the soldier, you knew what he had been through and you didn’t blame him for being rude, you couldn’t even imagine what he felt, so you were always kind to him. Bucky shot you a small smile and you blushed softly, quickly turning away to play your music again.

Before you knew it you were both on a quinjet, alone, about to take on a HYDRA base.

“who thought this was a good idea? I have some thoughts” you mumbled quietly not expecting Bucky to hear you, he chuckled softly at your comment.

“yeah i was having a good day too.” He snickered. You looked up at him, why was he being so nice suddenly? You shrugged it off and enjoyed his company. Once the plane had landed Bucky got his weapons and you followed suit. After grabbing and few more knives, just in case, and your favorite weapon you prepped yourself to face anything. As you exited you both snuck into the building quietly and quickly.

“You take that room and I’ll check this one” you commanded softly already heading where you had pointed. Before Bucky could protest you were already gone.

He had never been on a mission with you and he did not want you getting hurt, he cared too much for you. He quickly examined the room you had sent him to, finding it empty. Looking for any signs of a plan he found look in the desk and found a file. He quickly pulled out the Manila folder labeled “mission WS” he opened the folder only for his heart to shatter.

Pictures.

So many pictures of you.

At the compound, grocery shopping, petting a dog, wearing a shirt you had stolen from Steve after a mission.

He grabbed the folder and sprinted out of the room, running in the direction he last saw you. Bursting in the room he quickly pressed the button on his suit indicating there was a problem the moment he saw the mess, bodies on the floor of agents, chairs broken in pieces but you weren’t anywhere.

There was one thing that sent him into a blind rage, your ring. He had bought it for you and left it in your room without a note, to you it had appeared over night during your birthday party. He quickly grabbed your ring and followed the path you had taken.

He heard shouting in Russian and quickly followed his trained ears as he reached a room, breaking in without hesitation. The HYDRA agents quickly threw punches at him, grabbing their flailing arms with his metal arm and knocking one guy out with the butt of his gun, the other he shot in the knee.

Seeing the smug look on one guys face he walked over to him, metal fingers wrapping around his neck as he pushed him into the wall.

“Where do you take her?” He questioned him in Russian, voice husky and deep.

The man only laughed, “You were right he does love her” Bucky only tightened his grip. “You’re too late” the man choked out before Bucky snapped his neck and let his body drop.

He raced out of the building firing up the quinjet. “F.R.I.D.A.Y alert the team that they took Y/N immediately” He commanded speeding through the air in a hurry to get back and find you. Not even bothering to clean the blood off his knuckles as he stormed in the compound.

The whole team was suited up waiting to see what had happened. “Okay slow down buck” Steve told bucky as he made his friend sit down and catch his breath, not from being tired but from pure anger.

“We landed and we headed in the compound, she sent me to a separate room but i wanted to stay with her, i didn’t want her to get hurt. But i went anyway not wanting to anger her, and then i saw this folder” Bucky places the folder on the table they had gathered around. Each of the members sifting through the picture in horror as they saw your face of joy and relaxtion, radiating nothing but happiness. “We have to find her, Tony you have to let me go after her” Bucky pleaded to him, Tony sighed and shook his head. “We can’t take the risk Barnes and you know that, we can handle this one.” Looking down at his bloodied hands he began to pick at the pieces of skin near his nails, a nervous habit he had somehow picked up. He felt a hand on his shoulder and quickly looked up and found it to be Natasha’s, “she’s going to be okay, you however need to get to you back place and calm down okay?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, how could he calm down? You were in the grasp of the worlds worst organization and they want him to be calm? Before he could protest Vision spoke up, “she’s right, you should get some rest Bucky.”

After having a heated discussion to no avail Bucky headed to his apartment, it was completely dark seeing as though it was currently 11 p.m and very cloudy. He shakily unlocked his door and set down his bag, making his way to his room to get fresh clothes for the rest of the night, he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping.

Meanwhile you were strapped to a chair making the best out of a bad situation. “Listen dude, he literally hates me? I don’t know what you expect honestly, i mean sure i wouldn’t mind if someone as amazing as him liked me but dude, you really lost your marbles huh” you snorted rolling your eyes, moving you head to get hair out of your eyes. “We know he will come if we have you. He is a weapon. Our very best.” The man spoke with a slight accent, not strong but not light either. “I really could not care less but go off” you said, leaning back in the chair despite your legs being roped together in the most awkward position. You felt the rope digging into your ankles and wrists, the stinging sensation never ceasing. The man took two strides and stood in front of you, if this were any other time you’d be intimidated, but this guy had interrupted the one time Bucky had been nice to you, ruined your plans to go to the movies with Wanda and most of all, absolutely destroyed your plans to get the food you had been craving for months with Bruce. So yes, you were scared but also pissed off.

“Listen, you’re a pathetic excuse for an ‘avenger’ no powers, bad at fighting, and can’t even defend yourself. A liability.” You let out and exasperated laugh, who does he think he is? “And you’re pretty bad at your job too, aren’t you supposed to try and get information?” He smirked at you. A finger trailing down your jawline and down your neck. “Oh no sweet thing, my job is to make sure the Winter Soldier comes back.” It suddenly clicked all in your mind. They didn’t want anything from you but to get Bucky angry enough to actually find you. “I told you he doesn’t like me” you glared, sharply moving your head away from his dirty finger. “Oh he does, the way he watched the things you love, reading for hours about the series you enjoy, and even listening to every song you recommend to everyone in the compound, all to somehow get your attention. Of course he has no progress, a monster like him could never get any love. Which is why you are here. We get our weapon back and you don’t have to live in fear of him hurting you.” Your heart rate sped up, first off Bucky likes you what the heck? Second off this guy is really grinding your gears “you know, you’re really yanking my jenkin” you spoke in a deathly serious tone. Causing confusion to rise on his face. “What’s the problem? Can’t do anything yourself? Do you need someone to pull up Urban dictionary?” You mocked in a baby voice. Causing him to grab a knife from a nearby desk and hold it to your throat. “You would kill me, you still need me” You spoke, the cold metal pressing harder onto your skin. “Are you willing to test me?”

“I’m willing to do almost anything, I’m not a pussy like you” you spat out, head butting him making his nose bleed. He immediately punched you, his rings causing your skin to break, blood dripping from the fresh wound. Followed by another blow to the left side of your face, that would definitely leave a mark. He repeatedly punched out, hitting your sides, knocking your breath out until it was just short puffs, he punched you face, your lip was busted and nose bleeding. “Oh goodie” you spoke spitting out some blood on his shoes “you learned how to punch! Who taught you? Because my 4 year old niece is better at this than you are” you glared at him. Your body was aching and you wanted to just curl up and sleep. But you couldn’t. You had to find a way to take this guy down and get to Bucky. “I think you need some water don’t you think?” The man spoke lifting a glass to your lips. You tried to refuse but he held your mouth open, forcing the liquid down your throat. “You know, shouldn’t-“ you furrowed your eyebrows as you became extremely drowsy, eyelids growing heavy despite your protests and eventually, sleep over took you.

When you finally woke up there was fresh wounds on your body, you now had cuts on your arms and many lots of blood on your face. You tried to wiggle your wrists free, the man was gone but who knew for how long. You wrists were raw and you slumped down in disappointment. You heard footsteps. “They’re coming for her here. Boss over heard someone talking, they’re on their way. Okay. Which one. Got it. See you there.” The door swung open as the same man entered smirking at you. “Okay sweet cheeks were gonna take you somewhere else, the one thing we want isn’t here, but your other ‘friends’ are so get a move on.” He spoke undoing the ropes with a knife. This was your chance. You rubbed your wrists as he let them free, quickly moving to the restraints on your ankles. The world was spinning and you could t see straight but you would be damned if he took you somewhere else. As he got closer to your ankles you quickly used all your strength to knee him square in the nose. He fell over, clutching his nose and dropping the knife. You quickly grabbed it and let your ankles free, not hesistating to stab his knee as he made an attempt to grab you. You kicked him in the face one last time before stumbling out of the room, making sure to grab the keys and lock it. You stumbled through the dimly lit halls, leaning by the wall for support, holding your side where you think he had broken a rib. You heard footsteps approaching and you cursed softly trying to find a place to hide. Messily stumbling, you quietly entered a small closet and waited until they passed. Everything was hazy and you somehow managed to find an exit sign and follow it out.

You didn’t know what time it was. It was dark and you could make out some shapes when your vision could focus for a few seconds. Bucky. He was all you could think about. You had to get to him before HYDRA did. You wouldn’t let them hurt him any longer. You stumbled through a forest heading in the general direction you remembered flying. It had taken 20 minutes flying so it who knows how long it would take you walking, and walking drugged at that. Your legs grew heavy as you walked along a dirt road, making the vague shape of a car in the distance. You winced as you waved your arms around.

The car pulled over, rolling the window down. It was a girl around your age, her face in horror as she saw your state, and honestly you probably would be scared if you saw yourself too. “Holy shit what happened to you?” The girl quickly got out of the car helping you in the passenger seat. “Take me to address” you managed to slur out, Jesus how strong was that drug? You used all your force to tell her Buckys address, refusing to go to the hospital. She drive quickly and probably ran a few res lights but got to the super soldiers house in a few minutes. You thanked her closing the door and once again stumbling to the door.

You knocked quickly and quietly on the door, slumping against the side, you were about to pass out again. You were shivering, covered in blood and wanted to be held and be told you were okay. The door opened and Buckys face went from shock, to relief to scared in a few mere seconds. Your legs were giving out under you and you struggled to stay upright. “Didn’t know who else to go to” you slurred softly before your eyes grew heavier and Bucky caught you in his arms carrying you to the restroom.

Bucky took note of the many cuts on your arms and legs, making sure to be gentle and not hurt you. He saw your cloudy eyes and immediately knew they had drugged you, your shirt was ripped and your face was cut in all places, dried blood covering most of your usual skin color. He quickly remembered a shot Stark had given him to counter the drug HYDRA would use to make Bucky submit to them after one incident on a mission. Rummaging through everything he found it and quickly injected you with it. Your breathing grew steady and your eyelids relaxed. Sinking into a sleep that was different to the one earlier.

You woke up in a few minutes and saw Bucky smiling at you. He rushed to open the first aid kit “oh doll what did they do to you?” He cooed softly, setting some cotton swabs and gently cleaning your face of the blood. “long story short, uh i pissed the guy off and he did all this” you laughed, only to wince at the pain in your side. Bucky quickly put some medication on the cuts on your face covering them with a band aid before moving to clean up your lips with a damp towel. He looked up at you and then slowed his movements of softly dabbing at your lips. He could t stop staring at your lips, imagining how soft they must feel even all you went through hell. Without thinking twice you leaned in and softly pressed your lips against his, just enough so he could back out if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He kissed you back, full of passion. You both pulled away, a blush forming on both of your faces. He smiled up at you and moved onto your arms. The wounds weren’t deep but they would take a while to heal. He quickly cleaned them and squeezing your hand when he washed them with alcohol.

“I know you wanna shower but you’re gonna have to wait a bit okay?” He said picking you up and setting you on his bed, “you can change into some of my clothes if you want” he said sweetly as you smiled and nodded your head. He retrieved a shirt and some boxers that would fit you and helped you sit up. You tried to reach for the shirt only for the sharp pain to return once again. You felt the tears prick at your eyes, and they didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky. “I can help you if you want darling” his voice soft and pure. You said a soft please as he helped you take off your current clothes and replace it with his soft ones that smelled like him. He took you to the couch and set you down softly. “I already told stark you were here so they might be here soon to take you to the compound” he sounded sorry. “What’s wrong Buck?” You looked up at him, emotions you couldn’t decipher on his face.

“This is my fault- i thought if i pushed you away, if i was mean enough you wouldn’t fall for someone like me. You wouldn’t get hurt. But you’re just a sweet and caring and no matter what you always were nice to me and it hurt me so much, i couldn’t keep pushing you away. And now the second i got too close and told someone i liked you HYDRA somehow finds out and you get tortured and kidnapped? You deserve so much better doll.” He was scared and sad, sad you would leave him. You slowly say up, using his metal arm as support. “Listen to me James. This is not your fault, it’s not your fault there’s people out there who are just evil, it’s not your fault for having defense mechanisms and most definitely is not your fault you like me, because i like you too” you said softly, brushing his hair with your fingers.

He looked at you in shock, admiration and happiness. “You- you do?” He quiestioned quickly sitting up making sure to not hurt you. “Of course,” you smiled and he held you close to him, hugging you tightly but not enough to hurt you. “I swear Y/N when we find out who did this I’m going to personally beat the hell out of them, shit I’ll fucking kill them for hurting someone as precious as you. You’re an angel, I’m never going to let you out of my sight again, got it?” He said sternly. You smiled at him, loving this new protective and soft Bucky. “got it” you whispered leaning in to kiss him once more.

A knock at the door caused Bucky to shoot up, you stood up behind him wanting to see who it was. He quickly moved his arm to find you and moved you out of line of sight, right behind him, his flesh arm reaching out to you making sure you were still there and his metal arm whirring, ready to fight anyone for you. As he opened the door he saw the team, he let everyone in as they rushed to make sure you were okay, you quickly explained everything and they all looked at you in pity. “I gave him one hell of a fight though” you smiled at Thor, knowing he would be proud of you for not losing your wit. “That’s the Lady Y/N that I know and love!” The god boomed out laughing as everyone else joined him.

They took you to the compound and gave you a formal examination, your rib was fractured but not badly and would heal in a couple of weeks. You headed slowly to where the team was and you sat next to Bucky, sinking into his side. “I’m okay just can’t go on missions for a while,” you told them pulling on the sleeves of Buckys oversized shirt as they all breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful it wasn’t anything too serious.

Everyone looked at each other with smug looks as your sat closer to Bucky. Steve was the one to speak up, “so is that Buckys shirt?” You blushed a deep red and opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky best you to it. “It 100% is, and she is officially my girl, so no more giving her your sweaters Rogers” you spoke, joking with a serious undertone. You looked at him smiling as Wanda freaked out next to Vision. “About damn time” Clint laughed taking a bite of some chips that he had gotten.

They turned the TV on and argued over what movie to watch. You leaned near Buckys ear, “so your girl huh?” You smiled looking up at him. “I figured that you know- after we kissed- it was like you know official” he said stuttering, thinking he made a mistake. “Oh baby, of course, but at least say the line” you teased him as he smiled at you playing with his hair. “Okay i will” He said popping a piece of popcorn in your mouth.

“Will you be my girl?” He spoke out kissing you all over your face, you giggled and threw a popcorn at him, which he impressively caught in his mouth. “After that catch? I definitely will.” You smiled kissing him softly. Only to hear fake vomiting sounds from Sam. “Oh great now we’re gonna have to deal with these two.” He teased as you threw popcorn at him and Bucky threw him the middle finger.