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justagalwhowrites · 8 months

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Yearling - Ch. 14: Time

You and Joel go on your first overnight patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-13 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Violence against animals (not thoroughly described); canon-typical violence; canon-typical torture. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 7.4k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

September 15, 2023

Time.

What you needed was time, that’s it, you had to buy time, enough time for any of it to matter.

Hercules was your largest horse. Your fastest but the hardest to control, the one with the biggest stride, the one you thought it would take more than one shot to take down. So you’d taken him.

Time, you just needed more fucking time.

You whistled and Ruger howled back. You shifted Hercules, going for the sound. She’d have at least some of them in her sights. You pushed the horse faster, harder, feeling his heavy breaths from your position on his back.

He was running full tilt when the gunshot cracked through the air. It was sharp and clear and you could hear the bullet as it passed you. You slung your rifle from over your shoulder and shifted the horse with your legs and body weight, the reins falling to his neck. A bullet whizzed past where your horse had been just a moment before but it was enough to give you an idea of the source and you caught a glimpse of him, a man in forest green and brown but the white of his skin caught your eye. You lifted the gun quickly and shot. He dropped and you whistled again, another howl from Ruger in response. You followed it.

Your dog wasn’t far, tracking a group of about a dozen men from the trees. Her muzzle was bloodied which didn’t surprise you. You’d been tipped off to the attack by her sister, Gattling, running to the cabins with a chunk of flesh dangling from her jaws.

It felt like you hadn’t breathed since then, jumping into action to do everything you could to protect your home, protect what mattered.

But there was only so much you could do against numbers like this. All you could really hope to do was buy time.

“Ruger,” you kept your voice low, the men just 100 feet away through the forest. You doubted you’d even see them if you didn’t know the area, didn’t know how to hunt and stalk through the brush. Her head snapped toward you. “Heel.”

She slid obediently alongside the legs of your horse and you pressed Hercules quietly forward. You turned your horse so you could push him in another direction as soon as your shot was clear, took a deep breath, and fired.

The men reacted quickly, but you were faster, not waiting to see if your shot found its target. staying low on your horse and pushing him back behind the group. They didn’t see you cut around behind them and you were able to line up your shot more freely that time, taking aim at a man toward the center.

“There’s gotta be two!” One yelled as you took off around the other side.

“Nah, just the bitch,” another man said. The leader, you were pretty sure, the man who had showed up at the edge of your land just days before on a horse, asking to trade for more. But he rubbed you the wrong way, the way his eyes ranged over you, his entitlement. You weren’t going to invite him closer to your home, you weren’t going to trade with him.

You hadn’t expected him to come back with this many others.

“She’s a feisty one,” he said. “Ain’t ya, Texas?”

You ground your teeth, lining up for another shot.

“Don’t want us getting any closer to whatever set up you’ve got back there, do ya?” He called, taunting. You pulled the trigger. A man on the end dropped. “You really think you can outlast us? You moved too quick on those first two shots so you’re one in three and I got more men, Baby Doll. We’ll get ya, don’t you worry that pretty little head.”

“Fuck you!” You bit out, shooting another man, not bothering to move this time. The men were changing position, turning to face you, taking cover. You looked down at your dog, still glued to Hercules’ side. “Ruger, Attack.”

She launched forward, a bullet from the gun that was her namesake, snarling and racing for the man who was closest. She hurtled herself against him just as you got off another shot, dropping another man.

The man Ruger attacked screamed and you watched him go down.

“Someone get this fucking dog!” He shrieked.

“Ruger, kill!” You yelled to her, aiming again. But when you pulled the trigger, it jammed. You tried to force it again and again but it wasn’t going.

It was an old gun, you’d had it since the earliest days of the outbreak and it was hardly new then. You weren’t surprised that something had gone wrong. You just wished it had picked any other time. You hadn’t taken your handgun or shot gun. You were down to this and your knife.

You adjusted your hold on the weapon so the butt of the gun was facing out and roared, charging forward on Hercules as you heard the bloody gurgle of Ruger finishing her victim.

“There!” A man yelled, someone finally getting a bead on you through the brush.

“Want her alive!” The man in the lead yelled. “Just shoot the fuckin’ horse!”

You plowed forward anyway, you didn’t have much choice, landing a hit on a man with the butt of your gun, sending him flying with the force of it as you tore past on Hercules.

For half a moment, you wondered if maybe - just maybe - you could pull this off. Their numbers had taken a hit, if you could get through the group, send Ruger after another one or two, draw them to you on your terms…

And the first shot hit Hercules.

His steps stuttered and he let out a pained cry but he kept going as you raised your gun to strike another man. Then another shot caught him, right in the chest near the base of his neck, and his legs buckled, sending you flying forward over his head, tumbling onto the ground.

It only took a second for hands to be on you and you shrieked and kicked and swung blindly with your gun but it was quickly wrested away.

There was a vicious snarl and Ruger tore into the fray, latching her teeth around a man’s forearm. He released you and screamed, the sound earsplitting, followed by the crack of a gunshot and a sharp whimper.

“No!” You shrieked, trying to throw the men off you but they held you in place so you couldn’t even see her, just hear her pained, afraid sounds. “It’s OK, you’re such a good girl, it’s OK…”

The man who had showed up days before prowled forward and grabbed your chin, smirking as he leaned over you. Even in the dim light of the forest at dusk you could see the sickening look on his face. Like you were something he was about to consume.

“You’re even prettier up close,” he said. “Think you’ll be lots of fun.”

“Try it,” you hissed through your teeth. “Bite your fuckin’ dick off.”

“How about you cooperate,” he said. “Or we go see just what it is you’re hiding up at that homestead of yours.”

You just panted for breath glaring at him.

“That’s what I thought.”

You tried to think of how long it had been since Gattling ran up to you, part of a man’s body dangling from her teeth.

You just hoped you’d bought enough time.

August 3, 2026

“You really don’t have anything to be worried about.”

Ellie was perched on a rail as you worked with the last of the feral horses, Artemis. You’d gotten her to dumb broke but she still needed a little time to get her the rest of the way.

“I’m not worried,” you said, guiding Artemis in a zig-zagging pattern through the paddock.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Shut it, kid,” you glared at her. “I’m not.”

“Well, you’re acting fucky,” she said. “From everything I’ve heard about overnight patrols, they’re basically like camping and shit.”

“The fuck do you know about camping?” You asked, bringing the horse back around. “Didn’t you grow up in a QZ as a sad little orphan?”

“Ha ha,” she rolled her eyes again. She was such a teenager. “I can read, you know, I know what camping was. And everyone who goes on the overnight patrols make them sound fun and shit. Get out of town for a night, be in the woods, maybe shoot an infected or two…”

“Sounds like a blast,” you brought the horse around to her. “Want to give her a go? She’s in a good groove.”

“Hell yeah!”

You dismounted and held the reins while Ellie got situated on her back. You gave her a quick reminder of the ways to guide the horse, telling her she might need a second to respond to commands or something a little firmer than she was used to giving with Shimmer.

“I’ve got it, geez Mom,” she teased. You mockingly mouthed the words back at her as you handed her the reins. You stuck close as she took Artemis around the paddock. “You worry too much.”

“Stop acting like a stupid teenager and I won’t worry,” you replied.

“Hey, I wasn’t even talking about that!” She said, indignant. You’d yelled at her the day before when you’d caught her climbing on the roof of the stable to get a frisbee down for some kids who’d been playing in the street nearby. She’d acted personally offended that you’d had the audacity to think she might break her neck doing shit like that. “I mean, you worry too much about shit like the patrol. I can tell you’re basically freaking the fuck out…”

“Am not!”

“And I’m telling you, you have nothing to worry about,” she said. “It’s cool. We haven’t lost someone on patrol in a long time. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“You realize that I lived, on my own, in the wild, for longer than you’ve been alive, right?” You asked, brows raised. “Watch your legs, you’re relaxing them too much, you need to keep your knees in closer.” She adjusted. “Being outside overnight doesn’t bother me.”

“So what’s got you all fucky?” She asked.

“Nothing,” you lied. “Will you focus on the horse, please? Gonna get yourself hurt because you’re not paying attention.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, skeptical of all of it.

She was right to be. You were freaking out but not about the patrol part. About being outside, alone, with Joel.

Things had felt… different with him since the Simon incident. You’d already been close, already took comfort in sleeping next to him when running down the feral horses, already liked having him close by and liked feeling his hand against your back or at your hip.

But it was different now. It had gone from a comfort to a need. He hadn’t slept over since the night he came back from killing Simon and Ben and you missed him there next to you. It was hard to sleep without him there, your mind kept drifting to what he felt like pressed against you, his hand on your skin. The way you felt when looking at him, wanting to press your lips to his, wanting him to put his hands on you and pull you tight against him.

Part of you wondered if this is what it had always been like when you wanted someone before. It felt bigger now, headier, more dangerous. How much of that was because it was Joel and how much you cared for him? How much of it was the thrill of fear that ran through you when you thought of your body under the control of anyone but yourself?

The fear didn’t seem to dull the hot, throbbing want that was starting to take hold of you the moment you gave it a chance to blossom. You’d try to fall asleep and the image of your hands on Joel’s face, pulling him in to more devour your lips than kiss them as he pulled at your clothes was there, ready and eager. He’d look at you to make some silent comment on something, his brows raised, slight smile on his lips starting to make the edges of his eyes crinkle and you’d feel part of yourself get tight and achy and you were suddenly imagining what it would feel like to have his mouth on your breasts, your stomach, your sex. You had to fight the thoughts away, alarm bells ringing in the one part of your brain that didn’t seem to be drowning in want.

It was easy to picture what you would have done before. Before the outbreak, before Mitchum, before you were who you were now. You’d have gone up to him and made some smart assed remark and asked if he wanted to fuck and he would almost certainly say yes. You’d never had a man turn you down. And then you would fuck him and be at least somewhat sated and you could move on with your life. Or at least have a regular outlet if you weren’t.

But that wasn’t an option. You weren’t sure it would ever be an option with someone like Joel, someone who seemed so capable of swallowing you whole, of taking your entire being into himself and remaking you into something you didn’t recognize anymore. But it really wasn’t an option now. The thought of throwing yourself at him only to panic once his large hands cupped your breasts, the idea of him seeing the brand at your hip and seeing you like property, the notion of someone you cared so deeply for being the cause of that much fear and it tainting one of the only good things you’d found in the last few years.

That was too big a risk.

Your body didn’t seem to understand that.

Being alone, outside, with Joel, nowhere else to go? It was dangerous. It felt dangerous. But you had to do it. You had no reason not to. You’d just have to figure it out.

You didn’t sleep well the night before leaving for patrol, something you were sure was going to bode well. At least you’d be too tired by the time you stopped for the night for anything else to sound even remotely appealing.

“Alright,” you said, riding alongside Joel away from Jackson in the cool morning air. The trees were shrouded in fog, the insects and birds still quiet. “Walk me through it one more time.”

“We have one path out to the ski lodge,” he said. “We check up on anything we find out that way. We’ll probably run into a few infected this time of year but not much else. Should get to the lodge in time for dinner. We spend the night there. Come back to town a different route in the morning.”

“Right,” you said, trying to relax as you sat astride Renaissance. “Easy enough.”

“Specially for a deadeye like you,” Joel teased. “Had to do this route with Tommy before, it’s a wonder we survived.”

You huffed a small laugh.

“You telling me he’s not shooting infected from half a mile off after walking to school up hill both ways through the snow?”

Joel laughed back.

“Afraid not,” he said. “And he has no damn excuse, not with that scope…”

It didn’t take long for you to wonder just what it was you’d been anxious about. It was Joel. Just Joel. Your best friend, the person you trusted more than anyone else, the only person you wanted to be around just about all the time. It was going to be fine.

It was close to ten when you came across a few infected, a group of three. They looked to be recently turned, a man, a woman and someone who couldn’t be any older than Ellie. They looked almost disturbingly human compared to the clickers you usually were taking potshots at. They looked like a family.

Joel sighed heavily.

“Hate ones like this,” he said, lining up his rifle. “We need to clear out the ones who are bitin’ folks like this. You take the man, I’ve got the woman and kid.”

You nodded grimly, taking aim and blowing the head off the man. Joel killed the woman just as she turned to roar and run toward you and she fell, leaving just the kid. He hesitated.

“I can…” you said quietly.

“I got it,” he replied, voice gruff. He took the shot and the girl dropped.

“It’s a mercy,” you said, watching him as he slung his rifle over his shoulder again.

“I know,” he sighed. “Don’t make it any easier shootin’ a kid.”

You looked back toward where you knew the bodies were, part of you wanting to dig graves for the people they’d once been.

You just pressed on, Joel quiet for a while, face drawn. After a while, you started humming Born to Run and he looked at you, smiling just a little.

“What?” You asked.

“Springsteen, huh?”

“Well,” you shrugged. “Tramps like us…”

He smiled a little bigger, seeming a bit more like himself.

You stopped for lunch in the early afternoon, tucked against the thick trunk of a tree, the forest floor cool and calm, the sound of birds and bugs on the air. You leaned against Joel’s side, your legs straight out ahead of you so that your foot drooped onto his shin as you ate a peach, wiping the juice on the back of your wrist.

“Fuck I haven’t been this far out from Jackson like this in so long,” you said, looking out at the plants. Everything was cast in a dappled green hue, the soft light filtering down through the canopy. “It feels… I dunno, different somehow. I’ve done patrol before of course but…”

“I get it,” Joel said after you trailed off. “Kind of like just going for a hike when you lived in the city before.”

“Right,” you said. “Like we’re so disconnected from everything back there. Might as well be another world.”

You pulled the last of the flesh from the pit of the peach with your teeth and sucked your thumb clean.

“I used to just… live like this,” you sighed, shaking your head a little before you dropped it to Joel’s shoulder. “Seems like forever ago.”

He paused for a moment.

“Do you miss it?”

You thought, turning the sticky stone over in your fingers, feeling the ridges of it against your thumb.

“I don’t know,” you said eventually. “There are things about it I miss but what I miss most I could just… pick up and move to Jackson. It’s not like I have to be in the middle of nowhere just…” You sighed. “I do miss being this close to nature sometimes. I was never a city girl. Jackson’s hardly a metropolis but every now and then I look around and think ‘fuck there are a lot of people.’”

Joel was quiet for a bit.

“But you’ve stayed.”

It wasn’t a question, more of a statement, but you nodded anyway.

“Yeah,” you said. “I have. I… I like Jackson. The people are good, it’s quiet, I get to work with horses and help people while doing it. I have you.”

You glanced up at him for a moment when you said it but looked forward again quickly, not sure that you wanted to see what he’d think of his inclusion on the list. You threw the pit into the brush.

“I’m glad you stayed,” he said quietly.

“Just because I’m not about to let Ellie get killed by a horse?” You teased a little.

He laughed.

“Doesn’t hurt. But no, definitely not just that.”

You smiled a little when you heard a twig snap. Your head shot up and Joel all but leapt to his feet, tucking you behind him once you were up, too.

Your heartbeat got faster. The patrols that had gone out to investigate the X you’d found on the tree couldn’t track any recent paths. There was no way of knowing if it was raiders or just a person or two passing through, looking for a place to settle. After a few days, they’d given up until there was more to go off of. You’d hoped that there wouldn’t be.

“Joel,” you said quietly, getting your rifle out from Renaissance’s saddle. “Have there been raiders on this route before?”

“Years ago,” he said quietly. “Could be nothin’ but… Stay behind me, let me do the talkin’.”

There was another snap and you were able to locate the sound better than the first time, now that you were on alert and your ears were listening for it.

Joel moved quickly, stepping around you to be between you and the horses you could make out through the trees now. You kept your rifle aimed at the ground and peered around him, watching as the seven men rode up. All middle aged, all large, all armed. They were slow, confident. You adjusted your grip on your rifle and tightened your jaw.

“Somethin’ happens,” Joel said, not looking back at you, his voice low and quiet. “Take a horse, get back to Jackson as quick as you can.”

“Joel…”

“I mean it,” he looked back over his shoulder at you. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll buy you time, get the fuck away from here.”

You leaned around Joel to untie Ares and Renaissance from the tree you’d bound them to, looping their reins over your arm, their large bodies feeling oddly hot at your back.

“Howdy stranger,” the man at the center called out as he approached. “Sure would appreciate you puttin’ that rifle down.”

“Gimme a reason to and I will,” Joel said. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Just a group of friends passin’ through,” the man said. You fought to not go plant yourself next to Joel. You didn’t want to leave him standing alone but you knew that, regardless of how capable you were, if these men saw you as a commodity, you would be a liability. You stayed put. “Haven’t spent much time around these parts, know the area well?”

“Well enough,” Joel said. “There’s a river, about 20 miles east. You’re gonna want to find it, cross it and keep going. It’ll keep you outta trouble.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a threat for a man outnumber seven to one,” the man’s fake smile was fading.

“Seven to two,” you snapped, unable to stop yourself.

The man stood up a little in his saddle to take a better look at you before he smirked and sat back again.

“Don’t think your little deer there counts as extra muscle,” he said.

“Seven to one, seven to two,” Joel shrugged. “No difference to me. Like those odds either way. Head on over to the river and be on your way and we won’t have any problems here.”

“Seems like there’s plenty of open country for all of us,” he replied. “Unless you’ve got something you’re protectin’.”

“Something besides your little toy of course,” a different man spoke this time, the sound of heavy footfalls as his horse stepped forward. His voice was familiar, in a way that made your stomach turn. You swallowed and peered around Joel. The man leaned over on his horse and looked you up and down. Joel glanced behind him to you and adjusted again, blocking their view.

“Not going to tolerate you talkin’ to her like that,” Joel said, his voice strained and rough. “We’ve been around this area for a while. It’s ours. We decide if there’s enough room and there’s not. Move. Along.”

“You look familiar,” the second man said, adjusting his horse again and you could just see him, frowning down at you. You narrowed your eyes, heart pounding, praying to a god you didn’t believe in that he couldn’t place you.

“Last chance,” Joel growled.

The man’s face shifted, from questioning to recognition. For just a moment, it felt like you were going to throw up.

“I know you,” he said, smirking. “You’re Mitchum’s favorite doll! Oh, he’s been looking for you…”

“Shut up,” you hissed, teeth clenched. You dropped the reins and raised your rifle, stepping around Joel to get a clear shot. You fought to keep your breathing under control, to keep from devolving into the anger that was licking its way through your veins and trying to swallow you whole.

“She as good for you as she was for me?” He asked Joel with a laugh. He didn’t wait for a response. “Mitchum’s been looking everywhere for you. Bet he’d let me have another go if I brought you back…”

“Shut the fuck up!” Your finger moved to the trigger, but the man in the middle of the group rode up in between the two of you.

“Now now,” he said calmly. “No need for any bloodshed…” He turned his attention back to Joel. “Sure you didn’t mean nothin’ by it, but it sounds like your little… friend here belongs to someone else. We’ll take her back with us and…”

Joel shot before the man even finished speaking, the bullet catching him in the chest and sending him slumping over and off his horse with a thud.

The group was still and silent and you gaped at Joel, your gun still pointed in the direction of the man you recognized.

Joel turned his gun to the next man closest to the middle.

“She ain’t property,” he said. “I got no problems killing every last one of you. Could use the practice. Get the fuck out or I’ll kill you. Last chance.”

You looked back at the men, your rifle up, as they looked between each other, weighing their chances.

The one you recognized’s hand drifted to his side arm before he spoke.

“Think we’ll take the doll and be on our way.”

He started moving just as you fired and your shot went wide, hitting the man on the other side of him. Joel shot, too, before screaming at you to run.

You weren’t going to listen. At least, not at first. Joel threw you behind a tree and followed before he fired again, his shot making contact this time and dropping another man, already moving another bullet into the chamber.

The man you recognized seemed to change his mind about coming for you, instead turning his horse and starting to take off in the opposite direction.

You weren’t about to let him.

You shoved the rifle back into its spot on your saddle and jumped onto Renaissance, urging her almost immediately into a gallup to run down the man.

He had a decent enough head start and, when you were getting close to him again, you could barely hear the commotion behind you, just the crack of gunshots.

Catching him was going to be tricky. He was riding fast, looking back over his shoulder at you, pushing his horse. There wasn’t a clear route to him, you were having to guide the horse through it all while trying to keep pace. You tried to not let your rage be the only thing driving you, tried to let your logical mind take hold again.

If you took advantage of a sloping hill you thought was ahead, you’d be able to gain some ground on him. You split off from him and pushed Renaissance toward where you remembered the gentle slope down to be before it got steeper later on, something he’d have to slow up on.

You were right and you could hear him, not far away, the thundering hooves and the gasping breaths, even though you couldn’t quite see him through the thick of the forest. It was quiet behind you now and you tried not to think about what that might mean. You had to stop this man. If he knew where you were, he’d get more men and come after you. If Mitchum really wanted you back that bad, he’d come for you.

You weren’t going to let him take you, not again.

You broke through the trees, just feet behind him now instead of yards and he looked back over his shoulder, his eyes wide. He started fumbling for the gun at his waist but you pulled up alongside him and did the only thing you could really think to do. You jumped, leaping from the back of your horse and into him, slamming into him with all your weight and knocking him out of the saddle, both of you careening toward the earth until you landed with a heavy thud, the two of you tumbling through the undergrowth until you stopped, him awkwardly on top of you.

He smiled, eyes dark, down at you.

“So eager to come back home,” he panted. “Don’t think he’ll mind if I take my payment upfront…”

You roared and thrashed below his weight and he punched you across the face.

“Think your guard dog’s dead,” he said. “Not so tough are you now, baby doll?”

He leaned in close to you, so close that you could smell his breath and you slammed your head into his nose. You felt it collapse below your forehead and he yelped and instinctively jerked back from you, his hands clutching his face.

It was enough.

You wrenched your body over and he collapsed to the ground, still clutching his face as you all but jumped on top of him. You sat on his chest, ripping his hands back from his face and pinning his arms beneath your legs before you punched him the same way he punched you. He groaned and you smiled.

“Still think I’m good for you?” You could taste blood in your mouth as you panted for breath. You dug your nails into his cheeks until you felt his skin give and he shrieked and thrashed but your position was too solid, he couldn’t shake you, had no hope of reaching the most vulnerable parts of you as you dragged your fingertips through his flesh, leaving trails of red in their wake. “Am I your baby doll now? Huh?”

You pulled your hands from him, his skin below your nails, and wrapped your fingers around his throat, squeezing as his eyes went wide.

“Still think I feel good?” You couldn’t get your breathing to slow down but you didn’t care, your heart pounding against your ribs. “I remember you, you fuck, I remember all of you. Not so tough now that I’m not chained to a wall are you?”

His hands scratched uselessly against your upper arms, legs flailing behind you. He was gasping for breath, reminding you of a fish on a dock. His eyes were just as wide, his motions just as desperate, his being just as powerless.

“Bambi,” Joel’s hand appeared on your back, making you jump, loosening your grip on the man and he gasped for breath, sucking in air like a drowning man. You looked back at him, breathing heavy. Ares was at his side, you hadn’t even heard them approach. “Need you to stop.”

“Why,” you demanded, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched.

“Need information from him,” he said, kneeling beside you, his voice calm and even. You looked him up and down. He didn’t look hurt. “He’s the last one alive. Just need a few answers, then you can decide what happens to him.”

You looked at Joel for a moment, his eyes soft and open.

“Bambi,” he said quietly.

“Fine,” you snapped and Joel’s hand traveled down your back to your waist, guiding you off the man as he panted for breath.

“Help…” the man managed weakly, reaching for Joel, but Joel’s hand shot out, snatching his wrist out of the air. His large hands wrapped around the other man’s arm and he twisted until you heard a snap. The man screamed.

“Not here to help you,” Joel said, his voice almost eerily calm, so calm it sent a chill down your spine. “I’m here to get information and there’s only one way I know how to do it. You’re gonna want me to give you back to her by the time I’m done. So let’s begin.”

***

Joel dragged the man by his hair to a nearby tree and sat him up before he broke his other arm, too, just to be safe. He didn’t want to waste time tying him up but you knew he couldn’t throw many punches with a broken arm.

This wasn’t a part of himself he’d ever wanted you to see. It wasn’t a part of himself he was particularly fond of. Not of his willingness to do it to begin with, not of his skills, not of the way he picked it up to begin with.

But it was effective. And the important thing was keeping you safe.

Seeing you take off on Renaissance like that scared the shit out of him. Because of course you didn’t take off in the direction they’d been heading or even, really, back toward Jackson. No, you’d taken off after a fleeing man.

A man who said he knew you, who obviously horrified you.

Joel was desperate to get to you then. The way that man talked about you… he was not going to let him get his hands on you. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to protect you from him.

Thankfully, you were relatively easy to find. The man’s screams weren’t exactly quiet and he was able to find you quickly once he’d taken out the rest of the crew, leaving them dead on the forest floor.

“Look,” the man panted. “I don’t have to take her with me, alright? If you’re attached…”

“How many of you are there?” Joel cut him off. He wasn’t going to be able to get any answers out of this man if he heard him talk about you like you were nothing but an object, something to be owned and controlled. He’d kill him too fast.

“What?” He frowned and then winced, the bloody paths you’d cut into his face pulling and oozing.

“How many men,” Joel asked.

“I don’t…”

Joel sighed and freed his knife, thrusting it into the side of the man’s thigh. He screamed, so loud birds took off from nearby trees. Joel gave him a moment to catch his breath before he asked again.

“How. Many. Men.”

“About fifty,” he said quickly. “But miles from here, two days ride at least, we were sent out this way to scout…”

“Anyone else sent this way to scout?” Joel asked.

The man just looked at him, panting for breath. Joel twisted the knife in his leg and he screamed.

“Any. One. Else?” He demanded again.

“No one!” He said.

“How long was your team supposed to be gone?” He asked. The man hesitated and Joel pressed on the knife.

“Fuck, please! You can keep her, alright? I won’t eve tell Mitchum I found her, you can have her…”

Joel punched him across the face, his knuckles connecting with the cuts you’d made in his skin.

“Jesus Christ!” He managed as he gasped for breath. “Please…”

“Never understood why men like you think you’re gonna get mercy,” Joel said, grabbing his hair. “God washed his hands of your kind a while ago. I’m what comes for you instead and I don’t know mercy. So tell me, how long were you supposed to be gone?”

“A week!” He said quickly. “A week, we’re three days in and they won’t come looking for us if we all disappear, they’ll think we got infected or something, I promise…”

“What were you looking for?” Joel asked. “Lookin’ for her?”

“No,” the man panted and shook his head, wincing as he did. “No, we were looking for a new place to set up, maybe for the winter, I just know Mitchum’s been looking for her and offering…”

Joel cut him off.

“He have any idea where she is?”

“No,” he shook his head, quickly this time. “No, he has no idea, I swear he doesn’t know and I swear I won’t say anything, I promise I won’t…”

Joel laughed once, darkly.

“You’re not leavin’ here,” he said, ripping his knife from his leg. He actually looked surprised at that as Joel wiped the blood on the man’s jeans. “Told you, wasn’t here to help you.”

Joel looked around until he found you sitting against a tree, your legs pulled tightly to your chest. He looked back to the man for a moment. His legs were too intact. He stood and, for a moment, the man looked relieved. And then Joel brought all his weight down on the man’s shin, stomping on it, the bone snapping as the man screamed.

Satisfied, Joel went to you, sheathing the knife. Your eyes were wide and doe-like, afraid and watchful. He approached you slowly, keeping his hands where you could see them before he knelt a few feet away from you.

“Bambi,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even. “I’ve gotten what I need from him. You can have him now if you want him. He can’t leave here alive but how he dies is up to you.”

You nodded, pulling your eyes from Joel’s to look at the man. Joel glanced at his bleeding form, whimpering on the ground, before focusing on you.

“You’ve killed before,” Joel said.

“Yes,” you said quietly.

“Did it satisfy you?”

You stared into space for a moment, a dazed look on your face.

“No,” you said eventually, shaking your head. “I wanted it to but…”

“Did you like it?”

“No,” that you answered quickly. “No, it made me sick, I don’t…”

“Then tell me how you want him to die,” Joel cut you off. “And I’ll do it.”

“I want it to hurt,” your voice cracked. “I want him to fucking feel it.”

“OK,” Joel said gently.

“And I want to watch.”

“OK,” he said again, straightening up and offering you his hand. You took it and he pulled you to your feet. There was a cut at your cheek and he slowly, gently, reached his hand out and held your face, his palm curving over your wound. You closed your eyes and breathed deep, your hand covering his and holding it to you. “Come on, Sweetheart. Let’s finish this.”

He held your hand as the two of you went back to the man, who was still breathing heavily, still crying in pain.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “Please, I….”

“You hurt her once,” Joel cut him off. “She decides what happens to you now. And she said she wants it to hurt.”

He released your hand and freed his knife again.

“No,” the man shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean…”

He didn’t finish begging, Joel thrusting the blade deep into the man’s gut and he screamed. He twisted it before pulling it back out, looking up at you.

“Short or long?” He asked.

You looked at the man, examining him.

“Short,” you said after a moment. “I want to get the fuck out of here.”

Joel plunged the knife between the man’s ribs then, piercing a lung, and pulled it out before wiping it on the man’s clothes and sheathing it. He straightened up and stood beside you as you watched the man drown in his own blood, a cold and detached look on your face. After a few minutes, he was still and you were still watching him.

“Sweetheart,” Joel said softly, his hand delicately on your back.

You spat on the man’s body.

“Let’s go.”

***

Joel was right, you weren’t too far from the ski lodge. He helped you clean the blood from your face and quickly found Renaissance - who hadn’t gone far - before getting underway again. It only took another two hours to get there, much faster than going back to Jackson.

But there was the hot clutch of fear in you now, threatening to strangle you from the inside out, the tendrils of it reaching and threatening to take control. By the time you reached the ski lodge, you could hardly breathe. You jumped off Renaissance and Joel dismounted Ares, frowning as he came to your side. Your hand went to your chest, your neck.

“I can’t…” you managed, the first words you’d said in hours, fighting to get enough air to keep talking. Your heart was racing. “What’s happening? I… I can’t…”

“It’s OK,” Joel said, guiding you to a fallen tree and pulling you down onto it next to him. “Think you’re havin’ a panic attack, Sweetheart, you’re gonna be OK. Just gotta breathe deep, you’re OK. I’m going to touch you, alright?”

You nodded quickly and he delicately pulled you against him, his arms going around you, close enough that you could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

“Try to focus on my breathing,” he said gently. “Try to match it, OK?”

You closed your eyes and nodded as he took a deep, slow breath in and you tried to do the same. He held it for a moment before breathing out just as slowly and starting again.

“You’re OK,” he said gently. “You’re OK, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen to you, you’re safe, you’re OK.”

You focused on his words, the sound of his voice, the feel of his breathing as you matched it to your own. After what felt like a small eternity, you felt like you could take a normal breath again, your heart no longer threatening to pound its way out of your chest.

Some part of you was still afraid. Afraid of how close you were to Joel, of how violent you’d just seen him be - violence you never would have thought him capable of if you hadn’t seen it yourself. Afraid of how out of control these feelings you had for him could be.

But that part of you was smaller than ever, a quiet whisper against the overwhelming sense of warmth and longing that you’d come to associate with Joel. He was so close to you then, he’d pulled you almost onto his lap, your legs draped over his thighs, your head tucked against his chest. In spite of everything that had happened that day, in spite of the fact that he was so big and strong that he could hurt you without even really trying, in spite of that part of you telling you that being this close to anyone was a danger, you felt safer than you had in years.

You pressed yourself closer to him, your nose buried in his neck.

“See Bambi?” He said gently, pulling away from you ever so slightly to look down at you. “You’re alright.”

He was so handsome. Maybe you just hadn’t seen enough people over the last 20 years but Joel was easily one of the most beautiful human beings you’d ever seen and he smelled like safety and home and you couldn’t help but reach your hand up to his cheek, your fingers dipping ever so slightly into his hairline.

“Joel,” you said softly.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, his eyes searching your own. Your grip on him strengthened and you gently, slowly, tugged his face toward yours.

You couldn’t help it. It was something that was inevitable. Some part of it feeling like it was always meant to happen, like you’d been moving all your life toward specific points of time and this was one of them, a moment that was built into your genetic code.

You were always going to kiss Joel Miller. You’d been running toward it your whole life. There was no reason to deny it.

So you didn’t.

You kissed him then, his lips soft and gentle and warm on yours, his hands spreading wide over you to delicately, carefully, pull you closer.

And you knew, in that moment, your life would never be the same.

Next Chapter

A/N: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THEY KISSED Y'ALL

FINALLY

IT ONLY TOOK 14 CHAPTERS OF WHAT WILL - EVENTUALLY I SWEAR - BE A FIC THAT HAS SMUT THEY KISSED.

I'M GONNA DIE!

Thank you thank you thank you for riding out this slow burn with me! I hope this felt right for these characters for you the way it did for me.

I do have an updates blog. Follow and subscribe for post alerts to get an alert whenever I post a new chapter! I promise I won't spam ya!

Thank you for reading and for interacting and for being here. I'm so behind on replying to comments but know that I've read them (they're some of my favorite pick-me-ups during my work day!) and I so appreciate them and I'll be getting caught up soon. I love you all so very much, thank you for making sharing this story so fun!

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#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #yearling #joel miller x oc #slow burn

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 1

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 6.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Canon typical violence, death, gun use, angst. Jack has a temper and Tequila has a dumb first name. Summary: A mission gone wrong ends with disastrous consequences for Jack, but Champ has a plan. A plan to change your life forever. Notes: Welcome to soulmate story number six, everyone! I’m so, so excited to dive in here because I adore Jack. Keri and I are moving ahead with full steam on this story and we can’t wait to see what you all think of it!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Statesman, the independent intelligence agency, probably has some of the most up-to-date intel that anyone could ever want. Most times. Right now, that isn't the case. Ducking down behind a flipped over table, Jack – Agent Whiskey – rips off the broken frames of the glasses that not only fed him information but also scanned anyone for weapons and allowed his oversight team to see what he was seeing. A little bit of 'through the looking glass' magic.

"Now, damnit Ginger, I'm not trying to be difficult, but I need to know how the fuck to get out of here." Jack growls into the minuscule microphone that is imbedded into the earpiece that allowed her to talk directly into his ear. He glances at a body that is laying nearby, limbs sprawled with his eyes open and lifeless. The target that he had been after but someone else had started shooting up the place before he could reach him.

“You’ve been made, Whiskey, you need to get out of there.” It might be a little bit of stating the obvious, but Ginger’s even tone comes through his ear piece loud and clear. “What’s your clearest exit?”

"Does it look like I know?" Jack huffs, rolling his eyes even though the Statesman tech couldn't see him as he takes a chance and sticks his head up to scan the area for the nearest exit. The rapid burst of gunfire makes him duck back down, wood from the table splintering above his Stetson. "Southeast corner."

“Get out through the kitchen.” Ginger orders, clicking through floor plans and security cameras at her desk at lightning speed. “Through the kitchen, out the delivery bay doors, and left when you hit the alley. That will put you in the parking lot. Grab a car and get to the hell back to the Silver Pony.” The end of this mission has gotten messier than Champ will like, and extraction is their best option until a new strategy can be decided on. It’s ugly, but it happens sometimes. That’s one of the hazards of their line of work.

"Copy." Jack hunches down a little more when another barge of gunfire erupts, this time he feels the tug of a bullet as it tears through the wood and punches a hole through his hat. "Didn't think y'all'd give me a second." He grumbles, reaching for the pair of pearl handled .44 revolvers that are tucked into his holsters. Flipping them easily by the trigger guards as more of a habit than anything else, the weight of them is familiar and steady in his hands.

"Gonna hit the sprinklers and fire alarms in five seconds, Jack." The warning is the best Ginger can do for him, knowing that the ensuing chaos will confuse and disorient the enemies shooting at Jack and give him just a few seconds to get across the room while they adjust to something new happening around them. "Five...four...three...two...one!"

The distraction is just the window that he needs. Springing out from behind the compromised cover to start shooting. Jack's aim is true, taking down two of the people shooting at him with quick pulls of the triggers under his fingers. Three pounds of pressure to pull the hammer back and fire, custom designed for him for better rate of fire in a pinch. Those targets down, Jack starts to dash through the spraying water, the alarms starting to blare out to warn of a fire that isn't there but the system thinks it is.

The double doors into the hotel kitchen slam open, expelling Jack into the crowded, overheated room full of clamoring cooks getting ready for dinner service. A radio blaring in one corner and more than a dozen people shouting to each other had covered most of the noise of gunshots, but there's no mistaking their surprise when the mustachioed cowboy falls through the doors into their domain.

Jack’s eyes are darting around the room, seeking out a potential threat and when he doesn’t find one, he starts running for the door on the opposite side of the long galley.

Most people jump out of the way, some brandishing the knives in their hands as defensive weapons and others hide behind prep tables. The blaring alarm has now made its way to the kitchen, and everyone not cowering or weakly defending themselves is now trying to cover the food they have been cooking from being destroyed by the water splashing down from the ceiling. There is shouting and chaos, but no one dares to stop the cowboy running at full speed down the length of the kitchen.

“Ginger!” Jack shouts, even though he doesn’t have to as he pushes out of the doors that lead to the dock and loading bay. “Where to—” His words break off as he sees the glint of a gun out of the corner of his eye, reacting without even hesitating. Twirling around and his weapons fire on instinct.

"Jack?" Ginger's voice echoes in his ear as the man whirls around to see two bodies drop to the pavement behind him. One had a gun outstretched, the crisp lines of his suit wrinkled under the force of the shot that sent him falling backward. The other pitched into the wall before he fell – chef's jacket stained crimson with his own blood. "Jack! Are you hit?" She asks, voice more determined and edging on nervous.

Jack’s blood rushes to his ears, making Ginger sound like she is underwater. Or maybe it’s him that is drowning. It’s suddenly hard to breath, the seeming sucked from his lungs as he sways on his feet for a heart stopping moment. The impact of what he has just done crashing over him.

“Jack? Jack!” Ginger’s voice in his ear makes his vision sharpen from where it had gone fuzzy, bringing him back to the moment.

“Ginger Ale.” Jack chokes out. “I—shit, I just shot a civilian.”

"Shit." For a woman who rarely ever curses, the impact of it doubles coming from Ginger. "Get out of there, Jack. I'll send in Gamma Team to clean up. But I don't want you being part of the cleanup. You hear me?"

A civilian. Shit. Champ is going to be furious.

******

“Jason Howe, 36, born in Northwood, New Hampshire on April 4th.”

Jack winces and curls his hand into a fist as he stands in front of the conference room table. Not having been invited to sit, nor to have the glass of ‘67 Statesman Reserve that Champ has sitting in a glass at his elbow. A drink that Jack desperately needs. “Champ, there was a gun.” Jack defends, although he knows it’s a weak excuse. Statesmen take out the bad guys, not hurt the innocent. And Jack’s killed a bystander who had nothing to do with anything.

"You've been off since Cambodia, Jack." And although Champ knows exactly why, it can't be considered an excuse. He looks back down at the file on the conference table and frowns, then keeps reading. "Two siblings. Parents both living. Soulmate so far unknown." The older man looks up, locking his eyes on Jack. "We're tracking her down."

“Why?” Jack demands, frowning at the mere idea. Statesman had never tracked down a soulmate of anyone before, why start now? “We don’t know who it is, or if they care.” He scoffs. “Better to let sleepin’ dogs lie.”

“I don’t blame you for not noticing.” Champ sighs and shakes his head before finally motioning for Jack to sit. The man is his best senior agent, his quickest set of reflexes, and his closest friend. Frankly, Champ is worried about the upheaval in Jack’s life lately. It’s affecting his perception on a base level, not to mention his work. “You didn’t come out of that fire fight unscathed, and your adrenaline was too damn high for the pain to get through to you.” Running one hand down his face, Champ huffs slightly as he sips from his own whiskey glass but still doesn’t offer Jack any. “The back of your right arm. Just above your elbow. You have a new mark, Jack.”

“Bullshit.” Jack spits, furious at the implication of what Champ is saying. “My soulmate is dead.” He reminds the older man, as if he wasn’t well aware. Hell, Champ was the one who had recruited Jack to Statesman, so he was well aquatinted with his backstory. Until this moment, he would have called the man a friend. Maybe his best friend, even though Tequila likes to claim that’s his title. “Been dead and gone for years. So there ain’t no marks on my body.”

“I don’t mean to say anything against her memory.” Champ holds up one hand in a defensive posture. With the other, he gestures to the large mirror on the conference room wall. “Roll up your sleeve and take a look for yourself. Ginger noted the appearance of scars from minor cuts and bruises and a small tattoo on your arm. None of these marks were found on the civilian that was killed or any of the other dead men that Gamma Team cleaned from the scene. Following protocols, we’re now tracking down any and all soulmates and searching databases for your exact set of new marks.” He knows it isn’t good news. It isn’t good for the agency, and it isn’t good for Jack. But, despite it being a long shot, it is now more likely than not that someone out there shares these marks with him. And that makes her both a liability and a potential target. Whoever she is.

Fuck.” Jack hisses bitterly, his shoulders jerking as he shuffles out of his sports coat and tosses it down so he can start rolling up his sleeve. “Can’t Ginger remove it?” He demands, not wanting marks on his body. He hasn’t had any since the day Abigail died and he doesn’t want some other woman’s scars or tattoos on his skin either. He doesn’t have a soulmate and he doesn’t want one.

“Soulmate scars don’t work like that.” He knows Jack knows it, but he also understands the younger man’s distress as he tears his sleeve back to inspect his skin. “As far as Ginger’s nanites are concerned, that’s just your skin. No imperfections about it.”

“Who gets a goddamn tattoo on the back of their elbow?” Jack growls, twisting his arm around before he catches sight of the ink. “I don’t want another soulmate. This needs to be broken.” Tattoos and scars were things that could get an agent killed. Identifying marks, things that nanites fixed to conceal their real identities. Even agent’s soulmates had their scars removed if they were together.

“How exactly do you propose to do that?” Champ asks, raising one incredulous eyebrow at his friend. “Soulmate bonds are only broken by death, Jack. You know that as well as anyone. So unless you’re intendin’ on killing this girl just for existing, I’m afraid you’re shit out of luck.”

For one horrifying split second, Jack considers it. In his grief and rage at having his original soulmate, his wife, he thinks about killing another innocent person. “Jesus Christ.” He manages, body sagging and slumping in disgust at himself and overwhelming sadness. “I— I can’t—” Looking helplessly up at Champ, his eyes are filled with pain. “I can’t be someone else’s soulmate.”

“No one’s askin’ you to drop everything and bring whoever this woman is back to the ranch and start your life over.” At this, and Jack’s defeated shoulders, Champ finally pours two fingers of ‘67 Reserve into a clean glass and slides it across the table to Jack. “We’re gonna find her, and she’s gonna be under Statesman protection. That’s how we’re gonna handle this to start out with. Until we know more about her, the best thing we can do for your safety and hers is keep her close.”

“Why the fuck was this Jason Howe outside?” Jack snatched up the glass, pissed that because of one cook’s inability to be in the damn kitchen where he belonged, he’s burdened with a soulmate he doesn’t want. Is he victim blaming and deflecting? Yes, he is. But he doesn’t care right now. The whiskey burns on the way down and Jack sighs in appreciation of that fact.

“Smoke break.” Champ shrugs, knowing that why doesn’t really matter. “Gamma found his DNA on two cigarette butts nearby.”

There’s a sarcastic comment about how smoking kills somewhere rattling around in his brain, but Jack can’t bring himself to voice it. Not when he knows he is to blame, he had reacted and didn’t take a split second to make sure it wasn’t someone innocent nearby. He had done this and it weighs heavily. Nearly as heavy as his wife’s death and he hadn’t been directly responsible for that - though he felt guilty.

Shifting back in his chair, Champ surveys the agent in front of him as an agent rather than his friend, and he drains the rest of his glass in one go. “You have to come out of the field for a while,” he tells Jack firmly. There’s no room for debate here. “Psych eval, incident investigation, and that mark on your arm all have to be addressed before we can get you back out.”

Jack’s jaw rocks, immediately wanting to argue but he knows Champ. There’s no getting around this. He’ll be out of the field until the man gives his stamp of approval and not a moment before. “Had no problem throwing out the Golden Circle but now this is a problem?” He growls, stomping around the table to snatch a bottle of Statesman ‘72 off the bar cart. “Let me know when I gotta talk to the head doctors. Until then, I’m drinkin’.”

“I can’t get you out of this one because I threw my weight around on the Golden Circle case.” Champ huffs, not wanting to cause a fight but ready to have this conversation if need be. “I’m not worried ‘bout you passing, Jack. It’s just gotta get done.” The real concern is the black ink on the back of his arm – a hearts playing card with a teacup where the ace would be and the words ‘Curioser and curioser’ encircling it. While he carries that mark, he’s a danger in the field.

Snorting, Jack turns on his heel, grabbing his jacket off the chair and flicking a mocking two finger salute at Champ. “Sure thing, Champagne,” he huffs, knowing how much the full code name chosen for him irritates him. “I’m on desk duty.”

Champ huffs again, annoyed at Jack for being seemingly even less mature than Tequila in realizing that this isn’t a punishment, it’s caution. “And you’ll stay that way,” he grumbles as the door slams shut behind Whiskey’s retreating figure. “Goddamn stubborn donkey’s ass.”

Jack’s boots slap against the floors as he stomps down the hall. Several agents sidestep and move on the other side, warily eyeing the fierce scowl on his face.

The sound is unmistakable, and Tequila has been waiting to hear it since Jack had reported to Champ a half hour ago. He situated himself in Jack’s office almost immediately after, not really knowing what would happen but figuring that his friend might want to rant about something or go for a drink after. Civilians don’t exactly get caught in the crossfire every day – and Jack takes that kind of thing personally.

The door swings open and Jack pins Tequila with a hard stare. “Get out.” He huffs, striding over to the desk and slamming the bottle down on the hundred year old oak before he turns around to his own wet bar to get a glass.

“Guessin’ Champ ain’t too happy?” Tequila stands from the chair he had been occupying but makes no movement to leave. He’s known Whiskey too long and thinks too well of him to just up and abandon the man.

Jack doesn’t answer, grabbing the cut crystal glass and setting it down a little too forcefully before he picks up the bottle to pull the cork out and pours himself a double.

“Takin’ that as a ‘no, he ain’t’.” Stretching awkwardly, Tequila crosses his arms and watches Jack for a few seconds before he tries again. “There’s a couple of new girls leading tours who’ve been hinting at wanting dates,” he offers, knowing that that usually perks the older agent up a little. “We could blow off some steam tonight?” Mostly he’s just not sure that leaving Jack alone is going to be good in any way.

“Not interested.” Jack grunts, stomach rolling with guilt and anger. “God damnit!” He slams the glass down on the desk and his hand shoots out to sweep the neatly stacked files off the desk to scatter across the floor. Not like he wouldn’t have time to reorganize them anyway.

“Shit, Jack. What the fuck did Champ say?” Whiskey might have a temper, sure, but he usually just blows off his steam at the firing range or with a one-night stand. He’s not the type to go destroying things for fun or catharsis. Tequila steps forward warily, like he’s dealing with a spooked horse instead of his upset friend. “You know you can tell me. We can figure shit out.”

“There’s no ‘figuring it out’, Tex.” Jack snarls, well aware of the fact that Tequila hates his given name and prefers to go by his code name. “Apparently I inherited the civilian’s soulmate.”

“Fuuuck…” Tequila’s jaw drops so hard that his ass ends up back in the chair he has been sitting in only a minute ago. “How the hell does that happen?”

“Fuck if I know.” Jack blows out, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt. He needs to examine himself to see what other fucking marks this mystery woman has ‘gifted’ him with.

“Second soulmates are supposed to be a myth…” Anybody who knows a single thing about Jack Daniels knows about Abigail, and the fact that he lost her more than twenty years ago. A bit like anyone who knows him knows he was a rodeo man.

“Second soulmates are lies you tell the poor son of a bitch who’s burying his sweetheart.” Jack spits bitterly, remembering the bullshit people had spouted at him in the name of making him ‘feel better’. It hadn’t worked. “Not needed or wanted.”

“Looks like they ain’t lies at all.” Tequila hunches forward in his seat when Jack peels away his shirt and makes a noncommittal sound at the black-inked image on the back of his arm. “Weird place for it,” he comments, inching closer to get a better look.

“Fucking stupid is what it is.” Had Jack been admiring the tattoo on a woman, one he had in bed or aiming to get into bed, his opinion would have been different. But this was ink on his body. Even the tattoo he had gotten after Abigail and Tim died had to be removed when he joined Statesman.

Tequila squints a second before letting out a half-hearted chuckle. “It’s Alice in Wonderland,” he informs the other man once he remembered what the damn quote was all about. “Guess she likes to read.”

“Champ wants to find this woman.” Jack huffs, rolling his eyes and looking towards the mirror that is attached to the bathroom door. Looking for anything else.

“You don’t?” He probably sounds more surprised than he is, but if it were him - Tequila would sure as hell want to find the woman the universe says he’s supposed to love and cherish for the rest of his life. Even if all he had was a platonic soulmate, he would still want to know them. To have that connection and closeness. A friend that means so much they become his family. “Not sayin’ you hafta marry her, Jack, but damn. I mean…she’s got a target painted on her now if anyone ever finds out. Shouldn’t Statesman keep her safe?”

If it was anyone else, Jack would say that the protection of Statesman was necessary, but he can’t bring himself to say it. He knows that Champ and Tequila are right, this person – whoever she is – deserves to be safe because of who he is. Instead of answering, Jack pours himself another drink.

“Right.” Nodding at Jack’s silence, Tequila adjusts his Stetson and raps his knuckles once on the large oak desk. “I’ll see you in the morning, then?” It’s the end of the day and he’s presuming that Jack will be drinking his supper tonight. Which is a fair bet, all things considered.

There’s defeat in Jack’s stance, unable to gather his thoughts properly. Work was easy, it didn’t involve his heart and this was everything to do with it. When Jack still says nothing, Tequila stands and turns to move towards the door. “What does it say?” Jack asks quietly, staring down at the empty glass and wishing he was already wasted. “That I’ve got marks on my body again? What does it say about my love for my wife?”

“I don’t know what it says about her,” Tequila admits, turning again to face his friend. “But I think it says that you deserve a chance to be happy again. And from everything you’ve ever told me about Abigail?” He shrugs slightly, glancing down at the framed photograph of the two of them that he knows Jack keeps in pristine condition on his desk at all times. “Seems to me she’d be more upset at you closin’ yourself off than at the universe givin’ you an ass kicking.”

Shame fills Jack, knowing that Tequila had hit the nail on the head. Abby woulda torn into his hide for the thoughts he had about this new soulmate without ever meetin her. Or setting his beautiful, fiery wife up on a pedestal.

“You don’t have to do anything about it.” Tequila says again, knowing that most people in the world see their soulmate as their mandatory partner. Their person as ordained by the universe. Jack had already had that, and it’s not hard to see that he doesn’t find a repeat experience to be necessary. “But at least let Champ protect her. She didn’t ask for this anymore than you did.”

“It’s my fault.” Jack murmurs already pouring another three fingers of whiskey and staring at it for a moment before he takes another swallow. “I killed her soulmate, so the universe is punishing me. Punishing us both.”

“It ain’t a punishment necessarily.” Sensing the tide turning in the conversation, Tequila drops his hat on the side of Jack’s desk and grabs himself a glass before sitting down again. “Not all soulmates are romantic, and not all soulmates are perfect. Maybe you inherited her marks so you can protect her? Who knows.”

There it is. The crux of the problem. “Can’t protect her. Don’t even know her.” Jack huffs. “Couldn’t protect the woman I loved. The woman I would die for. Shoulda died for.” He would have traded places with her in an instant if it meant Abby and Sam were safe and still roaming the earth. It would have been the easiest decision he’s ever made.

“Then stay away.” The younger man suggests instead. Pouring himself a short drink and sitting back, he offers Jack a shrug. “Let Champ protect her once he finds her, and don’t tell her who you are. What you are to her. Let her live her life. I don’t pretend to have the answers, man. But I can help you piece this whole thing out.”

Staying away sounds like a solid plan. “I’ll be back out in the field anyway.” He rationalizes, imagining that it will be just a week or two before Champ needs him. Who’s to say that this woman even wants a soulmate? She hadn’t found the Jason Howe fella. “Sometimes that bean between your ears actually works.” Jack grunts with a whisper of a grin.

“Don’t worry.” That gets a hearty laugh from the younger man, and Tequila raises his glass in salute before he takes a sip. “I won’t let it go to my head.”

Jack snorts and drowns the rest of his drink and pours himself another before he slides the bottle towards Tequila. “Good.” He jokes. “Otherwise your hat won’t fit.”

******

By every Monday morning you’re always dragging. The restaurant was packed with reservations all weekend long and you probably burned off another fingerprint trying to do the sugar work for the dark chocolate salted caramel tarts that chef insisting on adding to the menu ahead of the new year. They’re beautiful, and delicious, but sugar work is tricky with an overblown wind bag shouting over your shoulder all night. The house is bustling this morning, though, and you have your niece on your hip while you sip your morning coffee and your mother in the other room is singing songs with your nephew. The dog is somewhere, the cat is on the windowsill, and your sister is finally getting her morning shower in after getting up early with the kids because they wanted to see Daddy off to work. There’s enough going on that you almost didn’t even hear your cell phone ring in your pocket. Almost.

Champ taps the file that Ginger had given to him, listening to the ringing in his ear. The soulmate had been found, surprisingly quickly to his delight. While it was assumed that no one knew about the soulmate connection between this woman in the packet and his senior field agent, but never guaranteed. Now he just needs to pitch the winning game to get her to Kentucky.

You almost don't pick up - who would be calling you from Louisville, Kentucky? - but eventually decide that you're curious enough to answer. At the worst you'll have a two-minute conversation with a telemarketer. There are worse things in the world. "Hello?" You press your phone to your ear and shift your niece a little higher on your hip with your other hand.

Clearing his throat, Champ says your name jovially. “Champ Rogers here, happy to get you on the phone, how are you doing this fine morning, darlin’?” Some might take offense to the antiquated word of endearment, but he has a feeling you won’t.

"I'm doing well, thanks." The funny face you make at the one-year-old hugging your side makes it almost sound like you're laughing, the smile coming through in your voice. "I'm not sure I know who you are, though, Mr. Rogers. What can I do for you?"

“Apologies, miss.” Champ shakes his head at himself chuckles. He knows a lot more about you than you do him, although that’ll change if he can help it. “I’m lookin’ for a pastry chef and the head hunter I’ve paid more money than God handed me your resume and said you’d be a good fit.”

"Oh!" Well, that's unexpected. Your head nearly snaps up from sticking your tongue out at your favourite little girl and a frown wrinkles your forehead a second later. "And...where did you say you were calling from?" He didn't, but you don't want to be rude. If he's looking for a personal pastry chef or a one-time catering gig, then Kentucky is a little far for you to travel.

“Kentucky, ma’am.” Champ spins around in his chair and looks out from the top of the infamous bottle that houses his office down at the distillery below. “I run a little outfit called Statesman.” Technically Jack’s CEO on paper, but Champ has final say.

"Statesman like the distillery?" Like your father's favourite whiskey that he's been drinking your entire life and there's always a bottle in the house at all times? Statesman is head hunting you? "Without meaning to seem rude, why exactly would a distillery need a pastry chef?"

Smart as a whistle. Champ grins, delighted that Jack’s new soulmate seems to have a firm head on her shoulders. “Well, we have a little tour operation here. We have around one point three million folks file through our distillery, and I’ve been wantin’ to jazz it up a bit. Offer more than just peanuts with the whiskey tasters.”

"I see." Leaning back against the counter, you lean over and press a kiss to your niece's thin hair while you chew on your bottom lip. It is a hell of an offer, but it seems like it's coming out of left field. Not that you're going to complain about being sought after - that would be the epitome of looking a gift horse in the mouth - and honestly you're pretty damn curious. "What exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Rogers?"

Champ winces at the formality and the way the use of his legal title sits wrong on him, like an ill-fitting hat. “Pastries. Cakes and creams that use our whiskey. Fruit tarts and those little sandwiches. Somethin’ that’ll make the womenfolk happy and I’ve got a space that I want to have set up to make it an experience they can’t get anywhere but Statesman.”

"You want to have...boozy tea party food?" It's so hard not to sound excited when that's right up your alley with the exact kind of baking you already love to do. "Well, I certainly appreciate the call." And since you've never been head hunted before in your entire fucking life, you really don't know what could possibly come next. "And the position you're looking to fill is...an assistant? Sous chef?" There's no way one of the biggest distilleries in the entire country is calling to offer you a brand new executive chef position making your dream food. That would be insane.

“I don’t know what a Sous chef is.” Champ huffs, his accent butchering the word. “I want someone to run the damn thing. Make up the menus to make mouths water.” He feels like your interest might not be enough to get you here. “Tell you what?” Champ grins. “How ‘bout I send the jet to pick you up and you come on over to the distillery and see what you’d be workin’ with?” He offers. “Take the tour, see the space I want to turn into a restaurant and we can see if you think it’s a good fit?”

"The j-jet?" You stutter out the word in disbelief, eyes flying up to catch your mother's as she walks into the kitchen with your nephew in tow – only to immediately give him the quiet signal a second later when she sees you on your phone. "I, uh—" Breathe, you remind yourself aggressively. "I assume you'll want to see what I can do, as well? A headhunter is all well and good, Mr. Rogers, but if you're going to show me your space, I should at least be making you a few sample recipes while I'm there." It's all so much to take in and you're nearly overwhelmed at the enormity of it. This sounds like a dream. Way, way too good to be true.

“Please, call me Champ.” He insists, almost pained at hearing the name his father had been called for years. “Tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen. I’ll send you an email, how’s that sound? When do you think you could be here? Jet can be where you are in three hours.” The mention of a private jet always impresses, and he notices it had an effect on you.

"Well...I do have some flexible time at the moment." Two days off from the restaurant in a row is what you've got, and your mind is buzzing with possibilities. "Three hours should be enough to prep a list and book a hotel in Louisville for a night." It will be the most expensive job interview you've ever taken, but really? You can't see passing this up. If nothing else, you'll get to take the distillery tour and bring a bottle back to your dad for his bar. An unexpected trip could be fun.

“Pishaw.” Champ scoffs. “No need for you to book a hotel, there’s a residence on the grounds where we can put you up. It would be yours if you accept the job.” He smirks at the idea.

"You're kidding." It escapes your lips before you can stop yourself, and you would facepalm if you had a free hand. "Out of curiosity, Champ," the informality would never fly in your restaurant kitchen, but you actually prefer it. "What exactly would this position pay?"

“Well darlin’,” Champ admires a woman who gets down to brass tacks. “Considerin’ you’d be responsible for the menu and the runnin’ of the kitchens, I was thinking that we would start you out at 90 with a guaranteed half a percent of all profits per quarter.” Champ offers off the top of his head. He’d only glanced at the baseline salary for an executive chef when he had thought of this – though it was a good idea. “How’s that sound?”

With your phone jammed between your cheek and your shoulder and reach for your mother, gripping her hand so tightly she actually flinches as your eyes nearly bug out of your head. The base line salary you were just quoted is more than twice what you're making now, and it would have profits on top of it, and it even comes with guaranteed housing. "That sounds...like a salary that comes with a lot of responsibility," you admit, when you can finally form a damn word on your own lips again. "You go ahead and send an email with the full job description and offer, and I will send you back a list of supplies to give you a fair view of what I can do. We'll see if my abilities fall in line with your vision for the next step forward at Statesman."

“That sounds like a fine plan.” Champ leans back in his chair, sure that he’s reeled you in. “I’ll be seeing you soon, ya hear?” He hangs up the phone and starts to chuckle to himself as he looks down at your picture in the file. Poor Jack is in for a rude awakening.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." The second your phone beeps and disconnects, you stare at it like a ghost has just popped out of it before looking back up at your mother in wonder. "I just...got a job offer. For the most insane job of all time." Shoving the electronic back into your pocket, you shift your niece in your arms and place a kiss on her little head before setting her down in her highchair at the kitchen table and slumping down beside her to grab your now-cold coffee. "Oh my god."

“What in the world is going on?” Moving over to the coffee maker, your mother reaches for her own cup. It’s a routine that you two have coffee while she watches the babies for your sister.

"Apparently a head hunter got a hold of my resume and passed it on to the head of the Statesman Distillery in Kentucky." It's the most unbelievable sentence you've ever said in your life, and you fall back in your chair with a dazed look on your face. "They want to expand their food offerings for tours and events, apparently? They want me to go down there and look at the facility. Mom...that phone call was offering me an executive position."

“An executive position? To do what? Run the bakery?” Your mom turns and leans against the counter so she can sip on her black coffee. “To develop recipes?”

"Develop the entire menu, run the bakery, help roll out this whole new entertaining program for the distillery." Cold coffee is still coffee, and you drink yours slowly just so you don't choke on the drink your excitement. "The job comes with on premises housing and pays more than twice what I make now." The number he quoted is enough to boggle your mind all over again. "They're sending a private jet to pick me up and bring me down there for this interview and lord I hope this is not just some weird scam."

Your mom’s eyes widen and she frowns. “I – you should call the distillery. Ask some questions to make sure. Who sends a jet for a chef?” She doesn’t mean to sound harsh, but it strikes her as extremely odd.

"It sounds too good to be true." Your shoulders drop, and your eyes track down to stare into your coffee. "He's supposed to be sending me an e-mail with flight info and the job offer. It either won't come through or it'll be fake. But at least then I'll have two days off to wallow in the amazing job I almost had."

As if to argue, your phone dings with an email notification. Your mom sighs. “Sweetie— I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so negative. I don’t know how this works in big corporations.” She feels guilty, like she’s stolen your happiness away and you deserve all the joy you can find.

"No, you're just being realistic." Neither of your parents are particularly negative people. You'd call them realistic optimists, if you had to give it a title. They always try to look at the best parts of very practical situations. You pull your phone from your pocket and tap on the e-mail, studying it carefully for any signs of fraud or imitation. "What do you think?" You ask your mother, turning your cell around to let her read what just came through. Decades in journalism have given her a pretty good eye for detective work.

She studies the email carefully and looks up at you. “This looks legitimate.” She admits after a moment, a smile cracking her face. “Keep your phone on you, check in with us, but I think you should go for it.”

"He wants me to make four samples for the interview." Taking your phone back, you can feel the excitement rising all over again. There's nerves there, and a little bit of fear of the unknown, but mostly a giddy amount of glee rising from the tips of your toes all the way up to the top of your head. Moving a thousand miles away from your family for a job wasn't exactly a possibility on your radar, but if this job is for real? You'd be foolish not to do it. "I guess...I guess I need to figure out what I'm going to make and send off a supply list and then pack."

“You go do that.” Your mom takes your coffee cup and grins at you. Would she miss you if you took the job? Absolutely. But this is too good of a chance for you to get out of your current restaurant. “Just think— your own kitchen where no one can yell at you.”

"And if that isn't the dream, I don't know what is." With hugs and kisses for your niece and nephew, you start to hustle out of the room but stop in the living room doorway and turn back around. "What do you think about doing Grandma Jane's coconut cake as cupcakes and adding bourbon to the cream cheese frosting?" If Statesman wanted booze in their desserts, you sure as hell weren't going to pass up the chance to present it with the family's coveted cake recipe.

“If they don’t give you the job based on that alone, they are fools.” Your mother huffs, giving you an encouraging smile. “You’ll knock them dead.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3

DtRH: @haileymorelikestupid @spishsstuff @missmarmaladeth @axshadows @a-gay-cryptid @sgt-morgan @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @flowers4copper @ghost-timelord @the0racl30fd3lphidos @all-the-way-down-here @bobafvcker @ficsbynight @dinoflower @supernaturalgirl20 @xdaddysprincessxx @bobawh0re @amiee-mitch18 @darkhairedmenrule @heyyimlaynna @strawberry-f4iry @3zm33atzbuss33 @whataghost @cyber666slut @nobody-000 @eddiemunsonsgirlfriendirl @lucciolaraven @powergirlsupremacy @secondsistershelby @dreadmars @androgynoushellscape @soytomatecherry @cheesecake-massacre @mylifeisbasedonashow @idiotickiddo @tomfeltonisbae @maratheidiot22 @im-nada @everybirdfellsilent @deepdarkdelights @brokenwhitegirl384 @ur-honey-child @caseket @copperrose15 @we-could-have-been @valkyries-ride @scarletmunson @strawberriricemilk @ghost-timelord @galactigoos @floridawaters @cutiepie6473 @pinball-vance @theslytherinwriter @scorpioswonder @stankyleg05 @fxdsketches @sad-innit @coffeyorky @1a-ma1a-su3rt3 @starlordsonlywife @aura626 @mistresskei @marv3lwhor3 @sadimusprimee @yourwonderbelle @sgt-morgan @spot116 @milybaby018 @loserk1nks @artfulthoughtswp @aavw @babyrunsforfanfic @faceache111 @midnight-huntress @asimpleraccoonqueen @marki-moo0 @pages89 @rawr-bitches @rebel-fanfare @soooosha @luna-is-out-there @im-sylien @timpletance @certifiedhunter @ellenmunn @littlethief78 @tinalbion @eddy-y @tikibabi @whyidkok @bearcoon1666 @littlebirdsbookshelf @a-gay-cryptid @disaster-ahaha @viridiesa @axshadows @purplerain04 @karmarouge @holycyclehomo @sainteredhood @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @the-wishmonger @theliferuiner @raptorclaw24 @asp1r1ngm1lf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @st4rl1ght444 @litholithium @tusk89 @youjustneedatherapist @nekodemon73 @iceclaw101 @lightningsface @shakespeareanwannabe @jasminemunson @spideysimpossiblegirl @wannabedaphne @sammus-white @jazzieomega @88dragon06 @ishabull @raquel-rial @tuquoquebrute @hotleaf-juice @dantaku @youokhoney @thisiswhyibleedsstuff @maximumkryptonitegladiator @jediknight122 @gadsgikklesen @movievillainess721 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @the-strawberrythief @spishsstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @haileymorelikestupid @gooddaykate @missredherring @abyssal-zone-stares-back @supernaturalgirl @winterandstars @severewobblerlightdragon @missmarmaladeth @noisynaia @saintbedelia @algressman16 @eaks0710 @mina2000alex @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @akaleelanie @mishasminion360 @amneris21 @roxypeanut @sabbs118 @frasmotic @emdraws02 @universallyclodlawyerpainter @rayrayvan @lovelychaos420 @1432690 @no1pornstachefan @thegrimreaperbitch @esmeensheep @izz-ayes-world @kittycatcait219 @loveyou3000tonystark @tintinn16 @igenerallytrynottogiveagoshdarn @motheroftorches @phoenixhalliwell @the-dazzling-urbanite @coffeyorky @trickstersp8 @victorian-cherub @julissadunn @clarysthing @the-girl-that-loves-many-fandoms @mastersurf @theghostofutopia @ncsls0515 @seraphinaivy @unnecesarysstuff @hiyorinatsuki @ghostofaboy @yn-hamato @elfwriter1088

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au

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nose-coffee · 10 months

Text

Nona the Ninth Eye Colour/Descriptor Guide

(Key: CH stands for Chapter; pg. stands for page; J stands for John (eg. John 8:1); EP stands for Epilogue)

(Given all the eye-swapping happening in NtN, I’ve categorised eye descriptions in this section per who they currently belong to in this book’s canon, re: John’s original yellow eyes are filed under “Nona” (AKA: Alecto); Camilla’s are filed under “Palamedes”, and vice versa; Babs’ original eyes are filed under “Ianthe”; and so on.)

(Gideon the Ninth Guide) (Harrow the Ninth Guide)

For more immediate, in-depth reference, the quotes themselves have been transcribed below the cut.

All quoted page numbers are per the paperback copy of the book. Quotes are (mostly) in order of frequency, but some characters are grouped together because I don't want to separate them.

Camilla (13 Entries):

Corona (8 Entries):

Pash (6 Entries):

Pyrrha (6 Entries):

Palamedes (6 Entries) & Paul (2 Entries):

Kiriona (5 Entries):

Ianthe (5 Entries):

Nona (5 Entries):

John & Harrow (4 Entries Each):

We Suffer (4 Entries) & Wake (2 Entries):

Honesty & Hot Sauce (3 Entries Each):

Judith, Crux, & Aiglamene (2 Entries Each):

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storiesofsvu · 3 months

Text

Solace in Solitude Ch 13

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, usual CM style violence/storylines talked about. A very minimal bit of dialogue taken from an episode. One more chapter to go besties!

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t totally on edge for the next two days, picking at your nails whenever you found yourself distracted, lost in thought as you wondered what exactly was going on across the Atlantic. You did your best to keep occupied with cleaning and packing up the apartment, getting ready for your own move while making sure things were looking like they did the first night you set foot in the building.

You were on the balcony watching the darkening sky, a leftover cigarette between your lips when your phone finally buzzed, and you were quick to pick it up.

‘He’s dead. Declan’s safe. Team’s not off scot free though, there’s gonna be this whole hearing bullshit.’

‘Good luck.’

It felt weird moving to London, not because of the change of scenery or language, but simply because you were back on your own. You’d found your own apartment this time, but it still felt strange to be alone in it, to not have the warm light pooling from Emily’s room when you got home late at night. To not wake up to the smell of fresh coffee being brewed or find her on the couch up in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. You’d become so accustomed to having another person around all the time that being solo felt almost wrong.

Your phone buzzed less than a week into your time there, a number with a 202-area code.

‘Hey, it’s Em. Figured I should pass along the new number, unless you’ve already changed yours.’

Your lips curved up into a soft smile when you read the text, putting down your wine glass so you could reply.

‘I’ve had an international plan since DWB’s. I assume this means that trial thing went well? You’re staying in DC?’

‘Ha. As good as it could, but we proved everything we did was for the right reasons. And yeah… it just feels like the right place to be. How’s London?’

‘Dreary. I forgot how much rain we get this time of year.’

Emily let out a small huff of a laugh, she was about to type up another reply when Derek’s voice broke through her bubble.

“Who’re you texting with that smile?” He asked with a wicked grin, and she immediately locked her phone, rolling her eyes.

“A friend.”

“Yeah right.” He laughed, “girl, you’ve been back less than a month and you’re already playing the field? Sin to win never dies, does it?”

“Looks like we have that in common.” She shot back with a smirk and an appalled look took over Derek’s features.

Emily knew things were going to be different, that they were going to feel strange and after her original reunion with the team, she knew it was likely she was going to feel a bit like an outsider in a place she once felt like family. Part of her had expected to slip right back into where she was, that her role would be the same, that life would pick up exactly where it left off when she left. She’d been so separated that Paris was starting to feel like a fever dream and she nearly forgot that while she’d been recovering and recuperating, life had gone on for the rest of the BAU team, they had kept moving while she was standing still.

She was incredibly thankful JJ had managed to pull some strings and keep her apartment, even if it had been sublet in the meantime, she still got to come home to something familiar and didn’t have to start from nothing for personal belongings. And while the place had been her home for so long, even with Sergio back, there was something missing, an emptiness that hung heavily in the air. She knew it couldn’t help that there was a lingering thought in the back of her head that Ian knew where this apartment was, even if he was six feet under. She missed the companionship that had come with Paris, suddenly having to do it all on her own was annoying, at least she wasn’t home as much as she had been while recovering.

‘Do things feel weird in London, or is it just DC and the whole coming back from the dead thing that’s throwing everything off?’

A small laugh broke through your lips as you picked up your coffee mug to take another sip.

‘I’m sure that has something to do with it. Why are you awake? Isn’t it the middle of the night over there?’

Emily sheepishly glanced to the clock on the nightstand, realizing just how late it really was and she let out a sigh, nestling deeper into the wall of pillows.

‘Couldn’t sleep. I’ve been weaning off most of the meds, plus my mind won’t stop. What time is it there?’

‘Just past seven, coffee time. You wanna call? Talk through it?’

‘Nah. If I call, I’m sure someone will wake up and start screaming cause he thinks its breakfast time.’

‘Uh.. what?’

‘Sergio.’

‘Are you telling me you’ve been back less than two months and you’ve already rescued another child in need or did you rename the other kid?’

Emily couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, quickly covering her mouth to keep quiet. There was no doubt you hadn’t woken up that long ago, the caffeine not quiet hitting your brain stream yet.

‘Sergio’s the cat.’

‘Oh! Right. I’m surprised Penelope gave him up.’

‘Well she has custody on weekends and whenever a case takes me out of town longer than a couple of days.’

‘Oof. Co-parenting, hope that doesn’t get messy.’

She found herself quietly chuckling again, a sense of comfort and calm flowing through her as her body began to relax further into the bed.

‘Only when one of us buys fancier treats.’

‘Good. And for what its worth things are a little off here, but I mean, it’s starting a new life for me, it’s just like riding a bike, I’ll get the rhythm back soon. You went back to something old, but that something has changed completely for everyone involved too. I’m sure constantly jetting around the country doesn’t help your sense of stability either.’

‘Last time I checked you weren’t a shrink.’

‘I’ve been sitting in to a few lectures here and there.’ You replied with a grin, practically able to hear her deadpan through the words on the screen.

‘Any suggestions?’

‘Don’t try to force things too quickly, know that it’s going to take some time for things to feel normal again. As important as it is for you to try to repair the relationships you had, you might want to start looking to make new friends, sprinkle in a bit of freshness to an old lifestyle. Change up your routine, hit up different grocery stores, get your coffee from somewhere new, change your commute, things like that.’

‘Already swapped coffee shops. Pretty sure I terrified the poor girl working the counter the first time I walked back in. Felt too bad to go back.’

‘Well that’s a start, lol. And… if you think you’re gonna stay in DC, that you want to belong there, think about putting down some roots, reasons for you to make it your forever home.’

‘Good thought’

The clock chimed beside you and you glanced up from your phone, letting out a soft sigh,

‘I’ve gotta run, but feel free to text anytime.’

‘Go save some lives. I’ll be fine.’ She signed it off with a smiley face, finally dropping her phone onto the nightstand as she curled around herself, pulling the blankets around her. For the first time since being back she was asleep within minutes.

Your phone began to buzz on the kitchen counter, you glanced toward it at first, thinking it was just a text, but when it nearly vibrated off the edge you realized it was a call, and from Emily, nonetheless.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey,” she replied, her voice somewhat strained and your brow furrowed, “what was that whole thing about the spleen? Like, when it comes to getting sick or recovery, that part.”

“Should I be concerned about the sirens in the background?”

“I’m a fed, sirens are a pretty regular occurrence.”

“Yeah?” You raised a brow, leaning against the counter, “what about that out of control beeping from the heart rate monitor?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine, just ow!”

“Emily...” you warned.

“It’s nothing.” She protested before a louder male voice shouted from the background.

“She got shot!”

“Jesus christ.” You muttered, “you’ve been back less than six months and you’ve already gotten yourself shot? What are you, a walking liability?”

The replies came instantaneously from Emily and Derek respectively, “no!” “YES!”

“I’m gonna be fine!”

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that? Aren’t you supposed to have vests for these kinda things?”

“I was wearing it! I took the hit to the upper shoulder and this lovely EMT says I’m going to be fine. I just can’t remember what you said about the spleen thing.”

Biting your lip, you let out a sigh, “If you get sick or injured it can and will take longer to heal, recovery’s a bitch, you know that.”

“Uh.. Agent Prentiss?” Another voice cut in and you assumed it was one of the EMT’s, “why can’t we find any medical history past March of last year?”

“That would be the other reason I’m calling.” Emily winced and you chuckled.

“I have your full history listed under Valerie Stewart, I’ll send it over, what hospital?” The EMT rattled off the location that you were quick to scribble down onto a scrap of paper, “I know this isn’t ideal timing, but have you gone to that shrink I set you up with?”

“Yes.” She half grumbled back before you heard another outburst from her co agent.

“She went to one mandatory appointment.”

“Morgan!”

“Ask her about how great her boyfriend Sergio is.”

“Last time I checked, Sergio was the cat.” You replied and Emily groaned, rolling her eyes, “Em, you really need to go a couple of times, especially now.”

“Why does this change things?”

“It’s your first time back in a hospital as a patient since Paris, it’s bound to bring up some stuff.”

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Thank you.” You pushed off from the counter, “I’ll send your file over, call me when you’re all bandaged up.”

“Yeah.” She replied and you could hear the exhaustion in her voice before the line clicked.

Much later that night your phone buzzed with a text, a picture of Emily back on the jet with her arm in a sling. As tired as she looked, at least she was safe and, on a quick path to recovery from this one.

‘Come on, that house is gorgeous!’

You shook your head at Emily’s hesitancy through your text chain. She’d spent the last couple of weeks sending you housing listings, asking your opinions and thoughts on just about everything and she found some kind of flaw in every single one of them.

‘There’s cracks in the foundation.’

‘So? Cracks can be fixed.’

‘No, they can be hidden. They’re still there.’

‘It passed inspection. You’re acting like you’re afraid the place is gonna fall down.’

‘I’m afraid it’s never gone be as strong as it was.’

You paused, a frown taking over your face as you read back the last piece of your conversation, you practically felt your shoulders sagging as you dropped into the couch. You wished there was more that you could do for her right now, but you knew being a world away meant this was it.

‘I have a feeling we’re not talking about houses anymore…’

A longer pause, one that left you watching the three little dots disappear and reappear while Emily debated how to reply. Where she struggled with wanting to blow you off, or if she really did want to get into this right now. Eventually she decided on somewhere in the middle.

‘Remember when we talked about setting down roots?’

‘Yeah.’

‘My therapist said the same thing.’

‘Told ya I wasn’t crazy.’

She huffed out a laugh, holding back the eye roll.

‘I tried. I’m trying. It’s just proving harder with each time. Like the more that I have tying me to here, the more I start to feel trapped. Caged in here with no opportunity to even see the other options anymore. The job’s the same, sure, but it’s also entirely different. We had a case a bit ago where the unsub was drowning his victims only to attempt to resurrect them, it was the first time the rest of the team found out I actually died, it left an even weirder taste in everyone’s mouths. It was the first time Reid looked me in the eye since being back, Morgan’s just barely over it, nothing feels right anymore. And buying a house? That seems like the last thing I should be doing if I feel like this. I don’t know where I’d want to go, what I’d want to be doing, it’s not like I’m out there actively looking for something different…’

‘But if it fell in your lap, you’d probably jump at the opportunity?’

‘Yeah…’

‘Well, hold off on putting the offer down for now, see what else is out there, talk it over with your therapist.’

‘I will. And hey, thanks for being my soundboard for all of this, it really hasn’t been the easiest.’

‘Of course. Life’s always easier with a friend by your side. I’ve got your back.’

‘No kidding.’ She smiled softly, ‘and thank you.’

Three weeks later the opportunity really did just drop into her lap. A phone call to an old source to help the BAU on a case lead to a very lucrative and enticing job offer. One that made her stomach twist into more knots than de arming a bomb did.

At the end of the week Emily was surrounded by her team, her friends, people that she loved dearly, who were finally accepting her back in their lives. Yet she still felt completely isolated and alone. She was certain that things were never going to be the same in DC again, that it really was time for her to go. So, as she watched JJ and Will dance together, soft smiles on their cheeks while he leant in to steal a kiss, she made up her mind.

She was taking the Interpol offer.

Maybe a complete reset and starting over really was what she needed right now.

_________________ @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @lesbodietcoke @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak

#Emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #solace in solitude #Criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss series

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pray4saint · 11 months

Note

You should do headcanons for dteam and Chuckle sammy for what kind of hugs they give </3 thats such a good idea

types of hugs the dteam & chuckle sammy boys give their partners

dteam masterlist & chuckle sammy masterlist & descrip. pg. 13+. gn!reader. fluff.

a/n. thank you for indulging me anon

dream

number one hug type with this man, full embraces. / arms completely holding each other, heads linked around the other's neck

unironic bro hugs, i fully believe this guy will walk up to you and bro hug you out of nowhere

all for hugs like this; his hands on your hips, your hands on his shoulders, foreheads and chests pressed together, whispering sweet nothings to each other

”you know, you're really beautiful from this angle.” you laugh a little bit, looking into his eyes while. ”babe,” you smile at your boyfriend. ”you look a zero point five.” he makes a kind of silly face at you, ”i was thinking more of a fish eye.”

also hugs where you scratch his head >>> / he absolutely lives for it, pressing kisses to your hand when you try to pull it away from his hair

sapnap

straddle hugs with this man, i guarantee it happens / regardless of who's on top, he likes being so close to you, especially if there's people around, it shows off who he belongs who and who you belong to

i also think sap is big on reverse hugs, where he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, kissing into your neck and along your shoulders, especially if you're in the middle of something

equally as much if you come up behind him, snuggling your head into his shoulder blades before spinning him around to properly hold you

also when he travels, hugs after he's been gone for awhile, he loves them, how you try to get yourself impossibly closer to him

”i missed you so much.” your arms squeeze harder around his neck, drawing him closer if at all possible. ”i know darlin',” he squeezes your middle, rubbing your lower back. ”i missed you too doll.”

george

in public, george really only does side hugs with you, it's not that he doesn't love you, he just gets nervous in public, but he will hold your hand the rest of the time

i think george though likes hugs where you kind of baby him, with your arms around his middle and his arms rest around your neck, tucking his head snuggly into the crook of your neck

”are you alright hon?” you ask him, lifting a hand from his waist to his hair, gently scratching at his head. ”yeah. i just missed you.”

i also think he kind of avoids group hugs if you're in them, he really prefers having you in his arms alone, with nobody to bother you

also being wrapped up in each other's arms on the sofas in his or your living rooms, with your head lying against his shoulder or his stomach while you draw shapes into his arms or his chest and his hand runs through your hair and along your back, talking about random things

ted

ted + quick hugs, i think he likes to hug you hello and goodbye with every interaction, he just loves being so close to you

definitely big on what we'd consider 'normal hugs', because sometimes he just wants the hug to take in how you smell, to remind him that you're real

ted takes a deep breath in, holding you close to him. you settle in his arms, putting your arms around him to reciprocate the hug. ”you alright babe?” ”i am now.”

eye-to-eye hugs with ted are regular, whether it be standing to sitting down, the eye contact is special when combined with the hold you have on each other

slow dance hugs in the kitchen >>>> / while you wait for the food to heat up, you slow dance around the kitchen with ted, keeping your hug intact

charlie

bear hugs, i absolutely believe he squeezes tight when he hugs you, savouring every intimate second of it

”ch– charlie,” you tap his shoulder, ”can barely breathe.” ”just another second, please.” he kissed your neck before releasing his tight hold. ”thank you baby.” ”no, thank you for putting up with me, i know i can be a bit much sometimes.”

THE PICKPOCKET HUG THE PICKPOCKET HUG GUYS / keeping your hand in his back pocket while his hand rests in your back pocket, especially in public?? he loves it

hugs lying in bed with you completely on top of him, his arms around you while you rest your head against his chest, it's intimate and mostly takes place in the morning after you wake up, right before you go to bed or just after certain activities

i also think dance hugs happen a lot, sometimes it's slow dance but other times you're just dancing around while holding each other

schlatt

the type to fully envelop you in his arms, keeping your head tucked into his chest with your hands against his chest

other hugs include side hugs with his arm draped over your shoulders, hand interlinked with yours

OH schlatt and lifted hugs, where you jump up and wrap your legs around him for a hug, he loves that

also schlatt seems like the type to paw at your arm when he wants a hug in public, sending you looks that aren't easily discernible until you finally turn around and run your hands up and down his arms before wrapping yourself around his middle

”y'know if you wanted a hug big guy, you could've just asked,” you looked up at him, he scoffed with a smile. ”yeah i know.” he wraps his arms around you.

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

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callsign-magnolia · 10 months

Text

Undiagnosed // Ch. 14

MATURE CONTENT 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents.

Word Count: 6.1k

Chapter 13 | Masterlist

I was up early the next morning to have a good breakfast before I started my exams. In his off time, Jake has started to sleep in a little, but never after eight a.m. So I made some eggs for protein and reheated some biscuits and bacon Jake made yesterday morning. I thought back to last night, the way Jake smiled at me as we ate. I wanted to believe there was more there but I wouldn’t allow myself. If I can help it, I will not have my heartbroken. Just because he’s nice to me doesn’t mean he has feelings for me. Once the food was ready I sat at the island to eat. I was itching to grab my papers to study but I think if I look at another anatomy question before this test my brain just might turn to mush. So I sat quietly and ate. Once I was done I washed everything and put it away before setting up at the kitchen table with Jake’s laptop. I had five minutes before the test started so I poured another cup of coffee just as Jake came downstairs. “Mornin’.” He said and I was startled as his hands fell to my waist and he kissed the back of my head. “Good morning.” I replied. The kisses don’t catch me off guard much anymore, but he’s never held me like that. “You about to start your first exam?” He asked and I nodded. “They said it could take about four hours each.” I said and he hissed. “Really?” He asked and I nodded. “I’ll be done around four.” I said sitting back down at the table. “I’ll make you some lunch for you in between.” He said and I smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“I will be quiet as a mouse while you take your test, don’t worry about me.” He said and I nodded, smiling at him. I looked down at the computer and saw the timer drop to one minute. “One minute.” I said and he smiled at me. “Good luck.” I started the exam and by question four Jake was making noise. “Shit!” He yelled and I looked up. He was holding his finger, blood seeping on the floor as he mouthed ‘sorry’ at me. I wanted to get up and help him, but if I got up the website would kick me out and I’d be given a zero. So I sat and took my exam, breezing through it and finished within an hour. I stood and Jake looked at me confused. “Are you done?” I nodded. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.” I said and when I got close enough I grabbed his hand, looking at his finger. “It finally stopped bleeding.” He said as I removed the gauze he wrapped around it. “You really did a number with that knife.” I said and he scoffed. “About took off my first two knuckles.” He said and I smiled at him. I got under the sink and grabbed the first aid kit, and pulled out the iodine and the knuckle bandages. I cleaned it while he finished his food and bandaged it tightly. “There. All better.” I said, tossing everything back into the box.

“Mama always kissed my injuries.” He said with a devilish grin on his face and held up his finger. A blush crept up my cheeks but grabbed it anyway and kissed it before I kissed his cheek. “There. A little extra to encourage healing.” I said and he chuckled. “I’m feeling better already!” I laughed as I put the box away and washed my hands. “So what are you gonna do until your next exam?” He asked and I grabbed my book from the table and waved it at him. “I’m gonna finally finish this book! Then I have to buy the third one.” He smiled at me. “Is this the longest it’s taken you to finish a book?” He asked and I nodded. “Yes and it's been driving me crazy! I’ve been dying to finish!” I said and plopped down on the couch to fall into the depths of my own imagination. I wasn’t sure how long I sat there but I was broken from my concentration when Jake nudged my knee. “Hey. You got one minute before your next exam.” He said and my head whipped to the clock on the wall. “FUCK!” I screamed, jumping up and rushing back to the table. I still had to log in and get set up. If I didn’t get in on time then I would be locked out. I rushed, logging in and I made it with just a few seconds to spare. I took a deep breath and gave Jake a thumbs up before starting on it. This one almost felt easier than the last, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I always heard that if you finish first you must not be trying hard enough, but I couldn’t sit here and stare at all these questions for an extended period of time. Then I would start second guessing myself and that was never good.

Around one p.m. Jake came over and sat next to me. “Want me to start lunch?” He asked and I nodded. “Almost done.” He nodded and got up, rifling through the fridge for whatever he could find. After about twenty minutes I had answered the last question and I stared at the screen, hovering over the submit button. I was so lost in my own head I didn’t notice Jake come up behind me until he wrapped his arms around my shoulder and lean his head down next to mine. “You okay?” He asked and I hoped he wouldn’t feel the heat from the blush rushing up my neck. “Yeah. Just thinking about how when I send this in, that’s it. All I can do is wait.” I said and he hummed. “How long until you hear something?” He asked. “They said a week.” I said and he nodded. We sat like that for a few minutes until I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Click it.” He whispered and without hesitation I did. “I’m proud of you.” He said before kissing my temple. I stared at his muscled back as he went back to the kitchen and finished up lunch. I felt like my heart skipped a beat when he wrapped his arms around me and I fought hard to fight back the feelings in my chest. Fuck, I liked him. A lot. I quickly stood and walked upstairs to my room, needing space. “Get it together, Katie.” I whispered to myself as I took a few deep breaths. A knock on my door startled me. “Katie?” “Yeah?” I answered way too quickly. “You okay?” He asked. “Uh, yeah. I got cold so I came up here for some pants.” I said and quickly got into my dresser and pulled out some black yoga pants. I swung the door open and he was gone. I furrowed my brows and he caught my eye when he came out of his room. “Here.” He held up a sweatshirt for me. “Oh, thank you.” I said, taking it from him. I slipped it on and his cologne enveloped me. “Lunch is ready.” He said as he started downstairs and I sighed. He was not making this easy.

By Thursday I was pacing while I was reading. I couldn’t sit still anymore, the anticipation of if I got in was killing me. I was pacing at the back of the couch, reading the third installment of the ACOTAR series when the front door opened. “Hey.” Jake said and I waved my hand, engrossed in my book. “Hi.” I said. I had chewed most of the skin off my bottom lip and they were raw. Jake walked by and set his bag down before getting in the fridge and grabbing a water. “How long have you been pacing?” He asked and I shrugged, just humming. He furrowed his brows at me but left me alone. An hour later I was sat on the couch, one leg out straight and the other bent under me as I leaned forward, reading. I would read for a few minutes, then stop and scroll on my phone. Soon my foot started bouncing when I turned back to my book. “Okay!” Jake said loudly and snatched my book. “Hey!” I yelled, shooting up from my spot and reaching for my book. But I wasn’t paying attention and almost went over the back of the couch, face down towards the floor but Jake caught me. “Slow down.” He said, helping my back upright. “Okay. You are gonna go upstairs, and put on something cute like you always do, then we’re going out.” He said and I pouted. “What’s wrong with me reading?” I asked. “Nothing. But you’re doing it to distract yourself because you’re anxious. So I’m taking you out.” He said. “Now, go get dressed, darlin’.” I wanted to protest, but I knew it was no use. So I huffed, standing and glaring at him as I stomped my way up the stairs. I threw on a light blue skater dress and slipped on some tan sandals before putting on a little makeup. I walked downstairs to meet Jake who was dressed in simple jeans and I white t-shirt that hugged his biceps.

God did he look good. “Okay, I’m ready.” I said, all annoyance gone as he smiled at me. “Good. Grab your purse.” We walked towards the door and he handed me my purse before he helped me into the truck. “Where are we going?” I asked as he got into the driver's seat. He just grinned at me mischievously. “You’ll see.” He said, backing out of the driveway. I crossed my arms over my chest, one knee over the other and stared at him. “As long as you feed me, I don’t care.” I said and he laughed, reaching over and patting my knee. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I will.” My breath hitched as he touched my knee. He’d touched my arms, my hands, my waist, but his hand on my knee made my nerves light up. We sat quietly, listening to the radio as he drove us down the road. He pulled into a parking lot and I noticed many trees and statues of animals. “Where are we?” I asked as he pulled into a parking spot in the half full parking lot. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to the zoo!” He joked and slid out. I pulled my lip between my teeth, staring at the entrance. My door opened and I looked down at him, he reached for my hand and grinned at me. Once I got out he smiled down at me. “You ever been to the San Diego zoo?” He asked and I shook my head. “Never been to any zoo actually.” I said and he looked at me in surprise. “Are you serious?” I gave a single nod. “No school field trips?” He asked and I shook my head. “My parents never allowed me to go on them.” I said and his hand gently squeezed mine.

“Come on then.” He said, dragging me to the entrance. We were hand in hand and it felt so good to have his large hand wrapped around my smaller one. He bought the tickets and we went in. “Well, where do you wanna start?” He asked. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” He smiled and pointed to a tall pole with multiple signs pointing every which way. “What about the safari?” I asked and he nodded. “If that’s what you want.” I just smiled. “Come on, last ride is at five.” I tugged his hand and pulled him in the direction of the safari. As we walked up there was an older man sitting on a crate at the entrance. “Just in time. The truck is about to come in.” He said with a large smile. We didn’t wait long and many people climbed off the truck. Jake and I got were the only two that got into the truck and we sat down. “What do you think we’ll see?” I asked, excitement thrumming through my body. “I don’t know. I assume animals you’d find in the savannah.” He said and I smiled. The truck started off in a slow roll before slowly gaining speed. It took a few minutes before we saw anything but then I heard some kind of yipping noise. I looked behind us to see a group of zebras. “Jake! Look!” I said, rapidly patting his shoulder and he turned. “I never thought I would see animals like these.”

The ride was fun. We saw Wildebeest, Antelope, Hyenas and Giraffe’s who leaned their heads down towards us. By the time we were going back to get out I was leaned against Jake and his arm was tossed around my shoulders. We got off and he pulled me away to the reptiles. Iguanas, chameleons, turtles and lizards. They were so cool, but I backed away from the glass slightly as we got to the snakes. “What? Don’t like snakes?” He asked and I shook my head. “No. We were stationed in South Carolina at one point, I was about ten and I was playing in the yard when one struck at me. Never bit me but I took off running and I’ve been scared of them ever since.” I said and he chuckled. “I used to catch them in the barn back home.” He said and my eyebrows shot up. “You mean to tell me you willingly went near snakes?” I asked and he chuckled. “And picked them up.” I shivered at the sheer thought of having a snake in my hands. We went and got ice cream after that and my jaw dropped as he wiped chocolate ice cream on my nose. “You ass!” I yelled at him and he slammed a hand over my mouth. “Not around the children!” He said, motioning to a mom and two kids gaping at us. “Sorry.” I said and we ran off laughing like children ourselves. We wound up in front of the lion enclosure and I looked down at the lion sunbathing in the last light of the day on his back. “That looks so nice.” I said and he furrowed his brows at me. “What?” He asked.

“Laying out in the sun. It looks warm.” I said and he smiled at me. “You know, if you wanted to lay out in the backyard you could.” He said, smirking at me with a certain glint in his eye. I felt a sense of bravery within me and decided to play the game. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I asked, winking at him before turning and walking away, a little more sway in my hips. The rest of the night was full of subtle flirtations. We stayed at the zoo till it closed and when we left he pit stopped at a liquor store. “What are we doing here?” I asked, the dark surrounding us and allowed the neon lights to be the only light source for us. “Just wait here. You’ll love this.” He slipped out of the truck, leaving it running and jogged inside. I waited in silence until he came out in each hand he had a large handle of coconut rum and tito’s, he stopped and held them up with a goofy grin on his face. I laughed as he climbed into the car and handed me the containers. “What the hell, Jake?” I asked and he smiled at me. “Now, off to dinner. Hope you don’t mind fast food.” He said and I shook my head. “Not at all.”

He took us to the Sonic that sat down the road from the house and pulled into a stall. We stared at the menu for about ten minutes before ordering enough food to feed the team. “And two Route Forty-Four ocean waters.” I raised a brow and he grinned at me. “Why the drinks?” I asked. “You have to have one.” He said. Soon the food and drinks came out and he set it up perfectly along the large center console. I criss crossed my legs and turned to face him. “Drink some of that.” He said, handing me the incredibly large cup and I drank a considerable amount of it. “Okay, set it down.” I did and held the cup as he popped the lid off and started pouring the rum into it. “What?” I asked with a laugh. “We did this as teenagers. I grew up in a small town and a Sonic was all we had, so we would steal our parents coconut rum or vodka and put it in our slushies.” He said and I grinned at him. “I never did things like this as a teen.” I said, taking the drink back from him and taking a sip before I reeled back. “Strong?” He asked and I nodded. “What did you do as a teenager?” He asked and I shrugged. “Studied. Read. We lived in Connecticut at one point and I used to love sitting outside from spring till fall and I would just read. It was so pretty and I would lay under a few trees in the backyard for hours.” My eyes were closed and I could see the trees above me, their deep, rich autumn colors and the smell of fall in the air. When I opened my eyes I could see Jake staring at me, something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite describe.

“So, you didn’t go on field trips, did you do anything else for school?” He asked and I shook his head. “Other than graduation, no.” His smile fell as he looked at me. “No homecoming? Football games? Lock ins?” He asked and I shook my head. “Prom?” I looked down at my legs, adjusting my dress. “I wanted to go. I asked. But my parents said no.” I grabbed a cheese stick from the box and tore it in half as he watched me. “I’m sorry.” He muttered and I looked at him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He sighed before lifting his burger and taking a bite. Prom was one of those things that you see in movies, and you read it in books and you hear your classmates talking about it. I was dying to go. I wanted to wear the pretty gown and have my hair and makeup done. I wanted to feel like I was part of my class. I had never felt that way, we moved around too much. I had only been at that school for two months, and a few girls asked if I was going. I went home and worked up the courage to ask and my parents said they would consider it. After a few weeks I begged and begged to go, but while everyone else got to go, I was dragged to a naval function. “If you had the chance to go now, would you?” I thought about it and after a moment, I nodded. “I feel like it’s something everyone should experience if they want to. So yeah, I would.” I took a bite of my own burger and a smile grew on his face. “Did you go?” He nodded. “Did you have a date?” I pried and he chuckled. “I took Mandy Masterson. She wore this hideous bubblegum pink dress.” I laughed at him. “What do you have against pink?” I asked and he shook his head. “Nothing. But it was so big that it wouldn’t even fit in my truck, and it had glitter all over. By the time I came home I looked like a disco ball and I was finding glitter in places glitter shouldn’t be for weeks.” He said and we laughed. “Sometimes I still think I find some when I clean out my ears.”

I had been sipping on my drink and almost blew it out my nose when he said that. I was laughing so hard with a mouth full of ocean water I thought the only way I would breathe again was if I just opened my mouth and let it all flow out. But I eventually caught my breath again and swallowed. “It’s not that funny.” He said while laughing. “Yes it is.” I felt warm, a blush on my neck and I knew it was from the alcohol. I slowed down with my drink and ate my food as we talked. He told me some about his childhood, growing up on a ranch in Texas and all the trouble him and his siblings got into. “Maybe you can meet them someday.” He said, grinning at me. “As long as your brother doesn’t put a snake in my face like he did your sisters.” I said and he chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’d protect you darlin’.” I bit my lip at his words and I could see it, him sweeping me off my feet to protect me from the dangers of his brother. Soon we drove home, cracking jokes and laughing like kids the whole way. Once we were home I got out of the truck and stumbled slightly. “You good?” He asked, looking at me from the front of the truck. “Just dandy!” I said with a grin. I reached in and grabbed my purse, drink and food bags before walking inside. I threw away the bags and set my drink in the fridge before going back outside and grabbing the alcohol to bring in.

“You know, I don’t think I've checked my phone all night.” Not that anyone would’ve texted me or anything like that. I reached into my purse and rooted around for my phone. “I know it’s in here.” I muttered. I all but climbed into the bag searching for my phone when someone cleared their throat behind me. “Looking for this?” Jake asked as he waved my phone in the air. “Oh, thank you.” I laughed and reached for it, but he held it up over his head. “Please.” I said and he smirked. “That’s not the magic word.” He said and I looked up at him through my lashes, biting my bottom lip. “Thank you for tonight, and you looked very, very handsome.” I said, my finger tracing his sternum. I swore I heard him gulp and he lowered his arm. “And you look beautiful.” He said and I grinned, snatching my phone from him and walking out of the kitchen. I clicked my phone on and saw a few notifications but I had about ten emails. I sifted through them and saw one from USD and SDSU respectively. “Oh my god.” Anxiety struck and I tossed my phone on the couch, hardly able to look at it. I chewed my nail for a moment before grabbing it and opening the one from the University of San Diego first. I took a deep breath and read it. ‘Miss Motley, thank you for your interest in our program but we are sad to say you have been denied entry into our nursing program.’ Tears stung my eyes and I sniffled as I set my phone down. I didn’t want to cry, not loudly at least. I realized I still had one more email to look at, so I wiped my cheeks and grabbed my phone and opened the email from San Diego State University.

‘Miss Motley, thank you for your interest in our program.’ I sighed, setting my phone down and wiping my eyes. I knew I should continue reading it, but it started the same way as the last. I tried not to be negative and took a deep breath before lifting my phone up again. ‘Congratulations on your acceptance into our nursing program.’ I got in. I got in! A scream escaped me as I jumped in the air, practically touching the ceiling as I did. “WHAT’S WRONG?!” Jake yelled and I let out another scream before saying. “I GOT IN!” I rushed him, jumping into his arms. I didn’t care if he wanted to hold me or not, I needed to be held.“You got in?!” “I got in!” He squeezed me to him and swung me around. “Which one?” He asked as I looked down at his face. “SDSU!” I felt like I should sprint, I wanted to jump so hard I could put a hole in the floor, I felt like I could win an MMA fight. I had to do something or else I thought I would explode, appendages flying across the room. My body was practically vibrating and Jake walked over to the couch, still holding me and he set me down. He sat next to me and took my phone, reading over the email. I repeatedly slammed my hands down on the couch as I squealed and he chuckled. “Congratulations, darlin’.” He said, his finger hooking under my chin and turning my head to face him.

“You really truly deserve this.” He said, his finger still under my chin as I smiled at him. “You really think?” I asked and he nodded. “I know.” His eyes flicked to my lips then back to my eyes. I grinned at him, leaning forward ever so slightly. Kiss me, please. I don’t want to hold back anymore. Those thoughts were mine and mine alone, but with the way he was looking at me, it was like he had all access to my mind and everything inside. His hand came up, resting on the side of my neck, holding me close. He moved ever so slightly closer and I could feel his breath fanning across my face. His green eyes met mine and I couldn’t help myself anymore. I surged forward, my lips colliding with his in desperation. But that desperation was returned as his other hand went into my hair, fingers tangling in it. My hands reached up, running across his chest before gripping his shoulders. I moaned into the kiss, and I felt him grin. He tugged on my hair and I gasped, allowing his tongue to tangle with mine. I slid closer, desperate to close the space between us but Jake let go of my neck and wrapped his arm around my waist, hauling me into his lap.

I sat perched on his lap, he held me close as I wrapped my arms around his neck, moaning into his open mouth and I felt him grow hard beneath me. I couldn’t help but grind down on him, making him groan. “Do you know how hard it is to have a pretty little thing like you living in my house and I can’t do shit about it.” He said against my lips. I wanted him to touch me. Touch me in all the places he hadn’t yet. My breasts, my legs, my ass, my wet core. Suddenly he pulled away, both of us gasping as he rested his forehead on mine. “Why’d you pull away?” I asked, gasping. How badly I wanted to kiss him again. “We still need to celebrate.” He said with a grin and I bit my lip, arching my back slightly and tangled my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. “Mm, but I liked the way we were celebrating, and I could think of other ways.” I said, leaning in and kissing him once. “Fuck,” He groaned, his head falling back. “I want to. God, I want to. But we’re both intoxicated.” He said as his hands rested on my waist, one of his thumbs brushing just below my breast. “I feel fine.” I said and he gave me a small smile. “Sure you do.” He was right and as much as I hated it, we shouldn’t. “But we will celebrate however you want.” He said and I grinned. “I want the rest of my drink. Some fresh chocolate chip cookies from the dough I have in the freezer and a good movie.” He grinned, standing with me in his arms and walking upstairs. My heart sped up, a small part of me hoping he changed his mind but my hopes died when he set me in front of my bedroom door. “You put on something comfy and I’ll get everything set up.”

I nodded and he walked downstairs. I knew exactly what to put on. The satin emerald green tank top and shorts, I saw the way Jake looked at me the last time I had them on, I was hoping to draw out the same reaction, maybe more. Once I was satisfied with how I looked I went into the bathroom and cleaned my face of the makeup and slid my glasses back on. I went downstairs and Jake handed me the giant styrofoam cup and I took a sip. I looked up at him and he smiled down at me. “Why don’t I roll the dough out and place them while you go change.” I said, taking the roll of parchment paper from him. He grinned down at me. “Alright.” He disappeared and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was hiding beneath those jeans. I shook my head, attempting to get the thoughts out. I was getting a little extreme, I needed to calm down. I got the cookies placed on the baking sheet and in the oven by the time Jake came back downstairs. Then everything in my head flew right out. The gray sweatpants accentuated the bulge between his legs and his tan skin contrasted, making his muscles and lines all very noticeable. He grinned helping me place the cookies on the baking sheet and we soon popped them in the oven. “Okay, what movie do you wanna watch?” He asked, raising his eyebrows and taking a sip of his drink. “I really don’t know. Something I've never seen before.” I said and he nodded.

We were silent for a minute before he turned to me. “Have you ever seen The Longest Ride?” He asked and I shook my head. “It’s a romance but it’s pretty good in my opinion.” He said and I nodded. “Then let’s watch it.” He grabbed both of our drinks and we made our way to the couch. The cookies would take a few minutes so we gathered blankets to cover ourselves up with. We waited till the oven beeped and we pulled them out before starting the movie. We got all the cookies on the plate and we flopped down onto the couch next to each other. He turned on the movie and I spread out the blankets before pulling the plate close. He set the remote down once the movie started and turned to me. He reached down, hands gripping my ankles before he hauled my legs into his lap. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me and he grinned at me. “Alright, give me a cookie.” I lifted one off the plate and held it out, I expected him to take it but instead he bit down on it, taking half of it in his mouth. He leaned his head back, moaning loudly, and I realized I wanted to be the one drawing those noises from him. “God, these cookies are better than sex.” He said and I bit my lip. Probably not better than sex with me. I thought it and I could feel heat creeping up my neck from the thoughts.

We ate the cookies and watched the movie, my head on his shoulder and one hand on his chest. His right arm was wrapped around my waist and the other was rubbing soft circles on the outside of my thighs, his thumb occasionally creeping close to the inside. I finished my drink and I looked up at him. He was watching the movie intensely. Heat was coursing through my body and all I wanted were his lips on mine again, or really anywhere else. I leaned up slightly, my lips pressing against his neck, and as soon as I touched him, his hands gripped me tightly. I smirked, placing another kiss to his neck and after a minute his breathing picked up, chest heaving before he turned to me, my lips losing contact with his skin. I thought he would tell me to stop but instead his lips pressed against mine roughly and my hands threaded into his hair. I felt him grow hard under me, his length pressing against my thigh as his hands made their way up under my tank top. They were so warm against my skin and I tugged him closer. He pushed me till my back was flush with the couch cushions and he moved my legs to settle himself between them. “Fuck.” He moaned against my lips and I gasped, his hand sliding down between my legs, discovering exactly how wet I was for him. His lips attacked my neck and my nails grazed his back.

He pulled away, forehead resting on mine as he tried to catch his breath and I attempted to pull him closer. “Katie.” He breathed my name and it sounded so good rolling off his lips. I stopped and opened my eyes, seeing him staring down at me. “Fuck.” I groaned, taking a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m so sorry, Jake. You said not to and I-” “It’s okay. Trust me, I’m struggling to resist just as much as you are.” He was still staring down at me as the credits rolled and I bit my lip. “You have work tomorrow.” It was already late and I knew he had to be up early. “Yeah, I do.” He replied, but neither of us made a move for a moment until I cleared my throat. Jake stood, and I followed. “You go to bed. I’ll clean up.” I said and he shook his head. “No, I’ll help.” I didn’t have it in me to argue, so he helped me straighten up before we both headed upstairs. I stopped in front of my door as he walked by, my hand was on the knob as I turned to Jake. “Hey Jake?” I asked as he stopped in front of his own bedroom door. “Yeah?” He asked, turning his back to the door and leaning on it. I walked over, hands behind my back. He looked down at me, a grin on his face as I stood before him. I stood on my toes, reaching up and kissing his cheek softly. “Thanks for believing in me.” I whispered before turning back to my door and stepping inside. I leaned my back against my door, taking a deep breath as a smile took over. I opened my mouth with a silent scream before shaking my hands around.

That night, my heart was beating so wildly I could barely sleep. I was excited and scared about what the next day would hold. All day I read, trying to keep my mind off Jake but I had decided I would cook dinner for him tonight, as a thank you for everything he’s done for me. When he came home I had just seasoned the steaks and covered them. I slid them into the fridge to marinate as he walked into the kitchen, showered and changed. “Hey.” He said, leaning on the doorframe. I stood, turning to him and smiling. “Hi.” My voice was soft and I was trying not to giggle like a schoolgirl at the sight of him smiling at me. “Um, I wanted to talk to you about last night.” He said, not meeting my gaze. “What about it?” Unease settled in my stomach at his words. “We should probably just forget about it. Pretend it never happened.” The sadness was overwhelming. I felt like my throat closed up and I tried to keep the tears back. “I just think it’d be best for both of us.” I licked my lips, my eyes falling to my bare feet, my toes wiggling. “Um, yeah. Sure, if you think that’s what’s best.” I said and he nodded. “Now come on.” He said, motioning me to follow him. “Where are we going?” Surely not out to dinner. “I’m gonna cook dinner, I have the steaks in the fridge marinating.” He turned and smiled at me. “I promise, we’ll be back and I’ll help you cook. We’re just gonna drop by Bob’s place.” I furrowed my brows. “Bob? Why Bob’s?” I asked, following him out of the kitchen. “You gotta have a way to get to school. We can’t share my truck if we’re going opposite directions.”

Taglist: @wkndwlff @alltimereverie @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @kmc1989 @sandaltoesocks @mayhemmanaged @dempy @itsdesiree86 @sunderland-6 @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy @bethabear12 @halstead-severide-fan @gg-trini @memeorydotcom @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker @inthestars-underthesun @praline357 @fanboyluvr @greaser9902 @felinegrate

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman seresin #hangman #top gun maverick #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc #adhd oc

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robezpierre · 6 months

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TOTK Light Dragon Crochet Pattern

It's been a while! Here's a crochet pattern for the Light Dragon from Tears of the Kingdom. I'll post it on deviant art shortly.

Full pattern below cut. If this ends up on P*nterest, I'm going to be very disappointed with one of you.

Stitches used (abbreviations): chain (ch), slip stitch (sl st), single crochet (sc), double crochet (dc), treble crochet (tr), increase (inc), decrease (dec)

This pattern is complicated – partially because I haven’t written a pattern for anything in a number of years, partially because the Light Dragon has a lot of weird parts. There’s chaining and slip stitching into the chains to make antlers, front loop and back loop work, flattening and working through two halves of a round simultaneously, and a lot of positioning.

I typically work in the round, without joining; if you would like to join, just add a sl st and a ch 1 to the end or start of each row in the round. It may make things twist less.

Head (1 in light brown)

1: ch 3, sc 2 in 2nd ch from hook, sc 3 in last chain, turn work (so that you’re working on the far side of the chain), sc (6)

2: sc, inc twice, sc, inc twice (10)

3-6: sc around

7: in, sc around (11)

8: sc 5, IN BACK LOOP ONLY inc, in BOTH LOOPS, sc 5 (12) (the empty loop will be used with the white head marking)

9: sc around (12)

10: sc 3, inc, sc 5, inc, sc 2 (14)

11: sc 13, inc (15)

12: sc 7, inc, sc 7 (16)

13: sc 4, inc, sc 6, inc, sc 4 (18)

14: sc 8, inc, sc 8, inc (20)

15-18: sc around (20)

19: sc 3, dec around (16)

20: sc 2, dec around (12) DO NOT F/O, continue to body

Begin stuffing here, and continue stuffing as you go

Begin Body

21: sc 6 in brown, join cream, in BACK LOOPS ONLY, sc 6 in cream (12)

22- 25: sc 6 in brown, sc 6 in cream (12)

26: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, sc 7 cream (12)

Rep rows 22-26 1 time

32-: rep row 26 (12)

Continue repeating row 26 until you’re happy with the dragon’s body length; mine was a total of 89 rounds. Then, continue with the tail

90: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, in cream sc 2, inc, sc 2, inc, sc (14)

91-96: Sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, sc 9 brown (14)

97: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, in cream sc 2, dec, sc 2, dec, sc 1 (12)

98: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, in cream sc 1, dec, sc 1, dec, sc 1 (10)

99: sc 1 cream, sc 4 brown, in cream sc 1, dec twice (8)

100: sc 1 cream, in brown dec twice, in cream dec twice (moving the stitch marker to after the decrease) (4)

F/O, make sure everything’s stuffed and weave in ends

White Head Marking (One in cream) On one end of the unworked loops from Head/Body round 21, attach cream

1: inc, sc 4 inc, ch 1 and turn (8)

2: inc, sc 2, inc, sc 3, inc, ch 1 and turn (11)

3: inc, sc 4, inc, sc 4, inc, DO NOT ch 1 or turn (yet) (14)

4: ch 4, turn, sl st in 2nd ch from hook, sc in next two chs, skip first sc in the row (last worked sc from row 3), sc in 2nd sc, sc one more, skip next sc, sc in the stitch next to it (you want the hole, it’s for antlers), sc 4 more, ch 1, turn

4.1-2: sc 4 across, ch 1 and turn (4)

4.3: sc, dec, sc, ch 1 and turn (3)

4.4-5: sc across, ch 1 and turn (3)

4.6: sc, dec, ch 1 and turn (2)

4.7 dec, sl st into the open loop from Head row 8, sl st into the side of the head marking until you get back to row 4, cont row 4

4 cont: skip the first sc in row 4 (this is the other antler’s space), sc 4, ch 1, turn, sc 4, sl st in 2nd ch from hook, sc 2, join into a sc in row 4

F/O, leaving a long tail

Spike numbers depend on how long your dragon is; her back spikes are arranged in a large-med-small-med-large pattern, starting with two large spikes and ending with an extra seven large spikes on the tail (two on top, four on the sides, and one of the very end). I would recommend making two large, two medium, and one small spike to start, and laying them out to see how many repetitions of that pattern that you can fit on the dragon, and how many spikes you need. I fit three repetitions, and those amounts are reflected below.

Large Spikes (in light blue) (I made 11)

1: sc 4 in mc (4)

2: inc, sc around (6)

3: inc, sc 2 around (8)

4: inc, sc 3 around (10)

5: inc, sc 4 around (12)

F/O, leaving a long tail

Medium Spikes (in light blue) (I made 6) 1: sc 4 in mc (4)

2: inc, sc around (6)

3: inc, sc 2 around (8)

4: inc, sc 3 around (10)

F/O, leaving a long tail

Small Spikes (in light blue) (I made 3)

1: sc 4 in mc (4)

2: inc, sc around (6)

3: inc, sc 2 around (8)

F/O, leaving a long tail

Under-spike gold

I found this easier to follow by working conceptually. You are making circles for each spike to sit on top of. To start, count your spikes, and chain: 6 for each large spike; 5 for each medium spike; and 4 for each small spike. (I had ch 80, but I needed ch 83, see below). Add 2 chains at the end. Those last two chains count as Tr, not as chains to skip/work into. You’ll end up working on either side of the starting chain, mirroring what you do on one side on the other.

For large spikes, skip 2 chs, Tr 5 in 3rd ch, skip 2 chs, sl st in 3rd ch

For medium spikes, skip 2 chs, dc 5 into 3rd ch, skip 1 ch, sl st in 2nd ch

For small spikes, skip 1 ch, dc 5 into 2nd ch, skip 1 ch, sl st in 2nd ch.

Combine the above to match how you want your spikes to sit on your dragon; when you get to the end of the chain, turn your work so that you’re working back up the chain, and mirror your stitches. You should have the correct number of circles, and be able to sl st into the first ch. I had to put Tr 10 into the first ch, since I did not have enough circles, but the ultimate placement worked out.

For the side spikes on the tail, do the following twice: Ch 10, tr 5 in 4th ch from hook, skip 2 chs, tr 10 in last ch, skip 2 sts, tr 5 in the next st (the same st as the initial tr 5), sl st to the first tr, F/O with a long tail. Sew to body, on the sides of the main tail under-gold.

I had to make one circle for the final spike on the tail, by ch 6, tr 5 in 3rd ch from hook, skip 2 chs, sl st into last ch, skip 2 sts on other side of work, tr 5 into next ch (again, where the initial tr 5 is, you’re making a circle), sl st onto first tr and F/O. A magic circle of 6, increasing around to 12, would probably work just as well; so would making the initial golden circles longer to accommodate this spike. I simply lost my spike and didn’t realize it until after I had placed everything.

Hair (make 1 in gold)

1: ch 21, starting in 2nd ch from hook, sc across (20)

2: ch 4, sl st into 2nd ch from hook, sc, in next ch, hdc in last ch, skip a st of row 1, sl st into front loop of next sc. Repeat across the row. Ch 1 and turn at end. (10 spikes)

3: Working in back loops only, sc across, ch 1 and turn (20 sc)

4-7: repeat rows 2-3 twice

F/O, leaving a long tail

Horns (make 2, in cream and turquoise)

In cream:

1: ch 2, sc 4 into 2nd ch from hook (4)

2: sc around (4)

F/O, and turn so that the right side is out. Leave enough tail to sew onto the head.

Using Turquoise, sl st into the cream starting ch. The horns are made from one long chain with different spikes; after slip stitching a new ‘spike’, you’ll continue slip stitching into the original chain.

Ch 12, starting in 2nd ch, sl st 4, ch 4, starting in 2nd ch sl st 6, ch 5, starting in 2nd ch sl st 3, ch 2, starting in 2nd ch sl st 5, ch 3, starting in 2nd ch sl st 4 and F/O (you should have worked all chs)

‘Bangs’(make 1 in gold)

1: ch 7, starting in 2nd ch from hook, sc across (6)

2: ch 4, sl st into 2nd ch from hook, sc, in next ch, hdc in last ch, skip a st of row 1, sl st into front loop of next sc. Repeat across the row. Ch 1 and turn at end. (3 spikes)

3: Working in back loops only, sc, dec, dec, sc, turn (4 sc)

4: rep row 2 (2 spikes)

5: in back loops only, dec twice (2)

6: rep row 2 (1 spike)

F/O, leaving a long tail

Sew this to the forehead of the dragon, directly between the horns – the 6th row points out, the 1st row attaches to the hair

Legs (make 6 in dark blue, 3 left and 3 right):

1: ch 6, join in first ch, sc around (6)

2-7: sc around (6) make sure that you’re working right side out!

8: in front loops only, inc around (12)

9- 10: sc around (12)

Flatten the previous row; you will sc through two stitches at once, closing the opening as you make fingers

RIGHT HAND 11: ch 6, starting in 2nd ch, sl st 5, sc through parallel sts in row 10 twice, *ch 9, starting in 2nd ch, sl st 8, then sc into two parallel stitches in row 10* repeat 3 more times, sl st through the last two parallel scs

LEFT HAND 11: *ch 9, starting in 2nd ch, sl st 8, sc through parallel sts in row 10* repeat 3 more times, sc through parallel sts in row 10 once more, ch 6, starting in 2nd ch sl st 5, sl st through the last two parallel scs.

F/O, leaving the leg unstuffed. You do not need a long tail, just enough to tie off and weave in.

Hips/Shoulders/Haunches (make 6 in cream)

You’ll be working directly into the legs, from their starting chain, and crocheting in the opposite direction. Make sure that the work faces out. Try to plan where you start to be where you want the shoulder to be – in row 6, you’ll begin working only half of the stitches, and they’ll be the stitches in front of your starting position.

1: make a slip st, and join into the starting chain for the legs. Inc around (12)

2: sc, inc around (18)

3-5: sc around (18)

6: sc 9, ch 1 and turn (leaving other sts unworked) (9)

7: sc 6, dec, F/O

F/O, leaving a long tail. Stuff the haunch, leaving the arm/hand unstuffed.

Ears: (make 2)

Inner Ear (brown)

1: ch 3, sc in 2nd ch from hook, sc in last ch, ch 1 and turn (2)

2-4: sc across, ch 1 and turn (2)

5: dec, ch 1 and turn (1)

6: sc, F/O (1) your tail can be short, it won’t be used to fasten anything. I hid mine between ear layers.

Outer Ear (cream)

1: leaving a long tail, ch 4, sc in 2nd ch from hook, sc across, ch 1 and turn (3)

2-4: sc across, ch 1 and turn (3)

5: dec, sc, ch 1 and turn (2)

6: dec, ch 1 and turn (1)

7: sc, ch 1, and turn the work so that you’re working on the edge of the work. Sc into the edge of row 7. Lay an inner ear over the outer ear, and sc into both pieces, along the edge. You’re joining the ear parts together. F/O, leaving a long tail to sew the bottom of the inner ear onto the outer ear. For one of the ears, you’ll have to work backwards or upside down if you don’t want two left ears – or you can just sew both inner ears to the outer ears.

Assembly: Stitch the white head marking to the head. I pinned on the hair, and attached the spikes and under-spike gold. To make this easier, I stuffed and attached each spike onto the under-spike gold first, and then pinned and sewed the gold onto the back (be careful to keep it centered). Then I attached the tail spikes, and stitched down the hair. I added the horns, ears, and bangs, and finally pinned all of the legs. I was careful to keep the legs attached only to the cream, not the brown belly, but that was just a stylistic choice that I made. Finally, you can make and attach the eyes; I used some felt and markers, though I’m not overly pleased with the effect.

#crochet pattern #amigurumi #loz totk #light dragon #light dragon crochet #tears of the kingdom crochet #it's been years since i made a pattern #hopefully this works out alright #i dont quite have energy to help folks troubleshoot #especially after the last person was frankly pretty rude about it #but that was on deviant art so its fine

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watsittoyah · 1 year

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Watsittoyah Master List!

Here are some of my fan fics that have either made it to the internet and prospered or just got the axe for lack of interaction. (I will update this later but please don’t expect it soon I sometimes forget to charge my lap top and I’ll get to editing)

Marvel Roster (These guys are cooler than the other side of the pillow)

1. Namor- Sitting on the throne (one shot?) NSFW

2. Namor- Hate that I love you (Still typing?)NSFW

3. Moon Knight- Anchors (Still typing)NSFW

4. Miguel O’Hara, Spider-man 2099- Along came a spider 2099 (Completed)NSFW

ch.1- Don't I know you?

ch.2- Bites & Fangs

ch.3- Tinted Windows

ch.4- Just To Put My Mind At Ease

ch.5- The Skeletons In His Closet

ch.6- The Calm Before The Storm

ch.7- Everything Is Not What It Seems...

ch.8- In A Snap

ch.9- And The Puzzles Fall Into Place

ch.10- Arachnophobia Behavior…

ch.11- Perfection Can’t Be Obtained…

ch.12- Pumpkin Pie Is Best Served Cold (Pt1)

ch.13-And The Truth Comes To Light…

ch.14- Pumpkin Pie Is Best Served Cold Pt.2

5. Miles Morales Spider-Man- A Glitch In the universe (To be announced)

STRANGER THINGS (Don’t look at me like that…)

1. Eddie Munson x Blk Fem Reader X Steve Harrington- Heartbreaker (Still typing) NSFW

ch.1- Rule Number One

ch.2- Rule Number Two

ch.3- Rule Number Three

ch.4- Rule Number Four

ch.5- Rule Number Five

EUPHORIA (You knew this was coming)

1. Nate Jacobs x Blk Fem Reader -Mixtape (Still Typing) NSFW

Track 1

DC Comics (My Best boys, and all of their smutty glory!!)

Dick Grayson X Blk Fem Reader- Prayers Of A Sinner -(Currently typing) NSFW

Ch. 1- Thou Shall Not Kill...

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Blk Fem!reader -Before the Snow, Came the Flame.. (Nsfw/ Currently typing/posting)

Ch. 00-Just Say Yes

Ch. 01- A Rose With Thorns (Pt. 1)

Ch. 02-

#spiderman 2099 #miles morales #nate jacobs #namor #eddie munson #steve harrington #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #watsittoyah #marvel #spiderman #stranger things #black panther #euphoria #nightwing #dc dick grayson #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow

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desideriumwriter · 27 days

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Summer At Grimmaulds | CH 1

Chapter Summary - Your parents bring you to the mysterious looking place you'll be staying at for the summer, turns out your stuck with a pair of redheaded twins, and a doxy makes a surprise visit for you.

Pairing - George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Category - friends to lovers, fluff

Content Warnings - reader gets chased around by a doxy? poorly proofread tbh

WC - 2.5k

A/N: shitty summary but im way too tired to try and come up with something better. anyways based off this request <3

Series Masterlist | G.W Masterlist | Next | Navigation |

Since the incident with the Triwizard Tournament, the Order of the Phoenix had been revived. Which meant your mum and dad had been going out on missions and meetings, doing whatever was needed, whatever they were told to do.

They had explained to you the other week that they’d be gone most of the summer due to some mandatory work they had to do. You weren’t surprised or shocked, this had become common now that your parents worked in the Order.

They also didn’t like nor did they trust you being home alone all by yourself for an entire summer.

So, now you stood in front of 12 Grimmauld Place. Except, there was no number 12 on any of the doors. The numbers on the doors went from 11 to 13. You’d never heard of it before anyways, but your parents said you’d be safe and well taken care of there.

“Here we are!” Your mother smiled at you, while you yawned, standing in front of the rows of townhouses.

“Mum, why’d we have to come this late? It’s nearly midnight.” You complained as you put your rucksack and suitcase down.

Your mother only shushed you in response, pulling her wand out and with a flick of her wrist.

Before you could question her about the numbers being wonky, a rumbling began under your feet. You stumbled a tiny bit, holding onto your suitcase for balance.

The building began to pull apart, however one townhouse appeared in the middle of the split. You grimaced at the sight of it.

Different was the least you could say about it. It was definitely different compared to the others.

The building's bricks were much darker than the others beside it, nearly black. You could see the dirty glass windows, the paint peeling off the door, the water stains on the wooden panels, and the flickering front porch light.

It looked like it had been untouched, collecting dust for a long time now.

“This is it?” You muttered to yourself, unfortunately your mum heard you.

“Oh be nice, Y/N. They spent the last few days cleaning it up for you kids.”

Those last two words echoed in your mind. You were never told there would be other kids staying with you.

Hopefully the Weasleys, they were the only other ones who had living families in the Order. You decided to ask anyway.

“Mum, you never told me who would be-“ The door flung open and a short, orange haired lady stood in front of the three of you.

“Molly!” Your mum happily shouted. Mrs. Weasley grinned as she said your mum's name in response, stretching her arms out and pulling her into a tight hug.

“Oh, it’s great to see you again! Come in, it’s much nicer on the inside!” Mrs. Weasley stood to the side of the doorway, making room for your parents and you to walk in.

Mr. Weasley and your dad were shaking hands and already making jokes, your Mum and Mrs. Weasley were busy complimenting each other on various things as you entered the ground floor.

You could only stand quietly and awkwardly to the side. Hoping that the greetings would be over soon so you could finally put your hefty bag and suitcase away. You were tired and hungry and your hands hurt and-

A strange noise came from behind you, almost like a quick pop, maybe even a crack.

“That looks heavy. What’re you hiding in there?” You felt your bag being taken off your shoulder, you whipped around to see a tall redheaded boy standing there.

George Weasley. A gigantic grin cracked onto his face, he nearly knocked you over when he pulled you into a hug.

"Glad to see that you decided to show up." You chuckled as you wrapped his arms around his tall frame nervously, not expecting him to be so welcoming.

You weren’t that close with George. You didn’t know him very well, you only knew him originally because your parents were friends and worked together. You also had the same charms class with him and Fred last year.

"Oh please, I knew you'd be bored without me here." He teased, looking down at you and smirking.

You’d been hugging long enough for your liking, you unwrapped your arms from him and he got the hint, letting go of you too.

“So, where’s Fred? I rarely ever see you guys separated.” You looked around the hallway, searching for the other twin.

“Stealing food from the table.” He nodded in the direction of the kitchen, and he was correct. Your eyes stopped to see Fred there, attempting to sneak a bread roll from off the long wooden table, his hand was smacked away by Ginny standing across from him.

You had no idea that you’d be staying here with the Weasleys for the summer. However, George did, and he was ecstatic about it.

“I can show you to your room! If you'd want me to!” He quipped, taking your suitcase out of your grasp.

You didn’t get to answer, George was already moving past the chatting adults and down the entrance hall, you followed.

The inside of this place wasn’t as bad as the outside. Old looking gas lamps were lined up along the hallway walls, casting light over the peeling wallpaper, aged paintings, and threadbare carpet. A grand staircase leading to the upper floors sat at the end.

You cringed as the wooden stairs creaked with each step you took, the walls were decorated with the occasional row of shrunken heads of past house elves, they sat on plaques mounted to the wall. This caused you to grimace and look straight ahead for the rest of the time on the stairs.

Sure, the inside of the house had the same amount of gloominess as the outside, but George's presence here added light to it.

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of doxies we had to get rid of.” George said as you reached the first floor. He stopped in front of a dark wooden dresser, sliding open a drawer and rummaging around for something.

“Here, keep this in your room.” He pulled out and handed you a spray bottle, the word Doxycide written across it. “The smell of that is absolutely rancid. I’d say only use it if it’s urgent, since you can stop doxies with a freezing charm.” He continued to move, stopping once he reached the first bedroom.

“And here’s where you’ll be staying, you’re sharing a room with Ginny and Hermione.” He said while he opened the door and stood beside, jokingly bowing to you and gesturing to the inside of the room.

You entered, strolling over to the bed that hadn’t obviously been slept in yet. George followed behind and dropped your things down on the mattress.

“You can unpack after dinner.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to take steps back towards the door. “We’re just waiting on Harry and the rest to get here, they should be any minute now.”

You left the room and went with George downstairs. As George and you walked down the stairs, Harry and other adults, who were most likely working for the Order as well, walked in.

Mrs. Weasley was already greeting them happily, keeping her voice at a hushed tone.

A purple haired woman accidentally tripped over the troll leg umbrella stand that sat right next to the entrance. She looked around at everyone as fear entered her eyes.

“Tonks!” Mrs. Weasley cried out, exhaustion and annoyance in her voice. Tonks began to apologize.

You heard that pop sound coming from the side of you, it was the same sound you heard when George appeared next to you. Except this time it was Fred. Now you had a twin by each side of you.

“You should probably cover your ears.” Fred said amusedly.

Before you could question him, a loud screech boomed through the house as curtains flew open from an old painting on the wall. It was of an elderly woman, wearing a black cap. She looked absolutely enraged.

“Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers!” She screamed, waking up all the other portraits in the house and causing them to yell too. That's when you covered your ears.

Mrs. Weasley attempted to close the curtains on the painting, Fred and George took you into the kitchen, hoping to get away from all the noise.

“Oh my God, who is that?” You scowled, removing your hands from your ears. The twins leaned against one of the wooden counters.

“Sirius’s mum. Lovely woman, isn’t she?” George gave a tight lipped smile, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“She’s got quite a way with words.” You joked, earning a laugh from the both of them.

The beginning of dinner was simple, but chatty.

Harry caught up with Sirius. Hermione and Ron talked to each other. Ginny and Tonks gossiped. The rest of the adults conversated about the Order and what to do. The twins bragged to you about all of their new inventions.

“We’ve been working on all new products for our Skiving Snackboxes during the past few months.” George boasted to you.

“Fainting Fancies-“

“Puking pastilles-“

“Ton-Tongue Toffees-”

“Nosebleed nougats.”

“Nosebleed nougats?” You repeated, sitting up from your bored posture.

“The name pretty much explains it.” Fred looked at George, then back to you.

“You eat it, you get a wicked nosebleed.”

“Me and him both tried it, tested it out.”

“Mum thought we had been dueling!” George said before the both of them began to snicker at the memory of it. You let out a small laugh with them.

The boys both noticed the obvious exhaustion weighing you down, Fred looked at George, who was looking at you.

“Why don’t we show her our little harmless prank we keep spooking mum with?” Fred suggested, nudging George who was (still) busy staring at you.

“Oh, right! Watch this.” George smiled and nodded his head in the direction of his mum, who was happily chatting with Lupin.

In the blink of an eye, Fred and George suddenly disappeared from their chairs and appeared right behind their unsuspecting mother. She shrieked in terror at the surprise, slamming down the silverware that was in her hands.

“Just because you’re allowed to use magic now does not mean you have to whip your wands out for every tiny little thing!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, emphasizing each word with a smack at the boys.

They giggled like schoolgirls and ran out of the kitchen, then apparating back into their seats.

“We’re just trying to save a bit of time!” Fred and George proudly said together.

It didn’t take long for you to unpack. There really wasn’t much that you had to take out of your suitcase, just a few books you planned on reading during this summer.

You sighed while pulling out a few books from your bag. It hasn't been a full two weeks since you left school for break and you’re already stuck somewhere else.

You stacked the books together, placing them neatly on the dresser that stood between you and Ginny's bed, and in front of a large window.

The window was covered with dusty velvet curtains, you pushed away the drapes, hoping to get a look outside, instead you were met with a small squealing noise. A full grown but still small doxy came flying towards you with its beetle like wings.

Grabbing a book from the stack, you began to shriek and swat at it with the book.

It became a game of cat and mouse. You were the mouse, literally being chased by a doxy, which was the cat.

For most likely a minute, you continuously shrieked in horror while running around in the room, holding the book in one hand, using it to swat at the creature while your other hand was feeling around your clothes, searching for your wand. You felt nothing.

It was still in your bag, sitting on your bed. You absolutely did not have the time to search for it.

The next best thing you had was Doxycide, but you accidentally knocked it over when you attempted to grab it while running past. The bottle rolled underneath Ginny’s bed.

You ended up causing yourself to be cornered. You only had a few inches of space between you and the wall.

The doxy squinted its eyes, letting out a small growl while it floated back, getting ready to pounce. You really had no way to escape without getting bit, if you were to run past it now, it’d probably bite you somewhere on the face, and you had no idea if there was any antidote for doxy bites hiding in the cabinets here.

You held up the book in front of your face, preparing to have your arms torn up.

“Immobulus!” George's voice shouted.

A dash of blue light struck the small creature, just as it opened its mouth to bite, its movements slowed then fully came to a stop, leaving it frozen in midair.

You let out a heavy breath of relief, closing your eyes as you leaned against the wall and dropped down your hand, letting the book fall out of your grasp as well.

George ran to you, completely ignoring the paralyzed pest in the air.

“Are you alright? You’re not bit are you? Did you get bit?” He questioned as he grabbed your hand, frantically inspecting your entire arm for any bites or scratches.

“I didn’t, I’m okay.” You assured him, trying to catch your breath. Georges sped up, he had the same amount of fear you did while being chased, only his was caused by the thought of you being hurt.

“Okay, okay, lovely.” He was still holding your shaky hand, your arm.

“You can let go now, you know.” You let out an awkward laugh, he really didn’t want to. Your skin felt so soft against his calluses and rough hands. Even though his hands were rough, they moved smoothly against your arm with how gentle he was.

George cleared his throat, turning his attention to the still doxy in the air, he grabbed it carefully and pocketed it.

“What are you going to do with that?” You said concerned and confusedly.

“Fred and I have been wanting to experiment with doxy venom for our snackboxes. We’ve got a spiffing amount of ideas for what we could make using it. Our biggest one-” The sound of multiple footsteps interrupted Georges rambling.

“What in the bloody hell happened? It sounded like you were getting murdered!” Ron's voice came from the doorway, where he stood with Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred, all with looks of worry on their faces.

“There was a doxy.” You stated, embarrassingly. “Erm, George caught it though.”

“You got rid of it? Right?” Hermione asked, her stern tone coming out strong.

“Of course I did!” George shrugged, not a single drop of untruthfulness nor worry in his tone.

“Any of you want to eavesdrop on the adults?” He changed the subject, pulling a pair of Extendable Ears out of his pocket that didn’t have the doxy hidden in it. Fred and George gave each other mischievous looks while the group excitedly filed into the hallway one by one.

George took a quick look back at you, shooting you a wink, you gave him an amused smile in return.

Maybe being stuck here this summer won't be too bad.

tell me what you thought or ask to be added to my taglist! <3

#george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfic #request #george weasley x reader #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley fluff

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1moreff-creator · 5 months

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Happy Birthday Teruko Tawaki!

It's the protag's turn for a birthday post! You know what that means! Small character analysis, fun facts and songs that remind me of her! Let's celebrate! Just make sure to bring out the fire extinguisher before lighting any candles... actually just keep the extinguisher handy in general :v

-Being the protagonist of the series, we actually know quite a lot about her backstory. Enough to know it's quite sad in general terms. This is because she appears to have supernaturally horrendous luck, which she claims affects her and those around her. She's mentioned several instances of highly unlikely, unlucky situations she gets into constantly. From washing machine explosions, vehicles crashing, theaters being "too flammable" for her, all the way to being stuck in a killing game where she gets betrayed, stabbed, her friends die, etc.

-She's an orphan who's never known her parents. She had a brother who was compassionate, but constantly hurt by her misfortune. That brother got adopted when Teruko was around five, and she's never seen him since.

-She doesn't have an ID, which meant she had to attend schools by stealing uniforms and infiltrating them. She then usually gets caught and repeats the process several times a year. She is also in a lot of medical debt as a result of her constant injuries. Given all of this, she actually prefers living trapped in the killing game, though obviously she'd rather not have people killing each other around her.

CW Suicide

-That said, it seems her luck prevents her from dying. She told Xander that she wouldn't die because she was the Ultimate Lucky Student, and it was implied she's unsuccessfully attempted suicide by hanging.

CW over

-This misfortune has led her to develop a tremendously pessimistic view of the world and her life, believing her fate can't be changed and resigning herself to her bad luck.

-This also extends to her relationships. She tried to be amicable at the beginning of the killing game, but after Xander stabbed her, she decided to stop trusting everyone else. She now carries around her unique weapon, a hunting knife, for self-defense. This is a pretty understandable reaction given everything she's gone through, but it will inevitably go wrong (prediction).

-Her numeral in the David MV is unlucky number 13 (XIII). Go to 1:22:20 on this video for an explanation!

-The secret quote on her page's source code is "It is an equal failing to trust everybody, and to trust no one at all." Probably something she'll say in the final trial, given that this is one of the main messages the series seems to be aiming for.

-The quote on Mai's page attached to Teruko is "Some years ago, she was searching for someone named ‘Teruko Tawaki.’"

...

-Yeah, Teruko's relationship with Mai is one of the most mysterious parts of this series. Given that quote, it's very possible they knew each other several years before the killing game, got separated, and reunited some time before the killing game. After all, Teruko does remember meeting with Mai in the CH 1 Ep 6 dream sequence. If you want to read some of my other opinions on Teruko and Mai, I'll recommend reading the related portion of this post.

-Though adding to that, Teruko and Mai seem to have matching phone charms :D

-There is a lot more to talk about with Teruko, but I'm done for the day :v

Fun facts!

-Her nationality is "legally in question", whatever that means.

-She's left-handed, the only lefty in the cast!

-In kanji, her name is spelt 田脇【た・わき】暁子【てる・こ】

-She has prosopagnosia, aka face blindness. And fun fact about me, I actually have this too! I may have learnt about it when Teruko was a bit too relatable in that one conversation-

-Her favorite color is red due to "association." Possibly because it's Mai's hair color. Her least favorite color is pitch black because it's unsettling.

-Her hair recently started turning grey, probably from stress. Wild.

-Her favorite ice cream flavor is red bean.

-Her sexuality is unlabeled.

-She smells of dirt, sawdust, and burnt smell.

-Straight from a Q&A, "Her fashion sense diverges from what she’d actually wear. Secretly she wants to wear girly, cute things, but is unable to afford that kind of thing. She likes skirts."

-She likes fresh food, food which can be prepared without endangering herself with knives and stoves.

-Her birthday, January 7th, lands on "distaff day", "I am a mentor day", "old rock day", "bobblehead day"... still don't know how these come about. I think my favorite for this day is "I'm not going to take it anymore day." That's hilariously in character for Teruko xD

Songs!

-Again by Crusher-P

-The Things I Deserve by Ghost & Pals

-God-ish by Pinocchio P

-The Medical Anomaly by RIProducer

-End-World Normopathy by Ghost & Pals

-Scapeg∞at by Ghost & Pals

-Chronic Wasting Disease by RIProducer

-Those Who Carried On by Ghost & Pals

And Happy Birthday! Well, that was fun. Now I have to deal with the meteorite which struck me midway through writing this post! Take care!

(to be clear the meteorite thing is a joke)

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #teruko tawaki #character birthday

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effortandmore · 1 year

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worth all your while (ch.2) | knj x reader

chapter summary: you don't have to wait for long to hear from namjoon, which is great except your sister and your best friend won't shut up about it. (or: there is lots of texting, some phone sex, and we meet seokjin!)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: smut, fluff, light angst, au: famous, but not an idol

chapter warnings: smut, way too much texting, swearing, alcohol. here are the specific smut tags for this chapter: mutual masturbation, phone sex, namjoon calls you baby because ofc he does, discussion of cunnilingus

chapter word count: ~6.9k (total 12.4k)

a/n: i was going to be awesome and format the texting properly, but i am inherently lazy, so here you go. thanks to @ugh-yoongi and @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over. love you both.

previous chapter | next chapter | read on ao3

It’s not even close to two weeks before you hear from Namjoon.

When you finally touch down in the United States after your stupidly long layover in London, you turn your phone back on to a slew of messages. Your mom, wondering why you haven’t called to update her (because it’s not like she could check your flight status herself or anything), your sister asking if you still want a ride or if you’ll just rent a car, your editor wanting to know if you can resend your last revisions on your most recent article because in 36 hours he’d managed to delete the email permanently somehow… and then two texts standing out from the rest — no contacts listed, just two Korean numbers. One just looks to be a link.

You click that one first while you wait by the baggage claim for your suitcase that’s going to take ages to show up. All it says is, “please sign,” with the link below. It feels like balls of yarn are being unfurled in your chest, rolling haphazardly around as your nerves kick up. You know what it is, you knew it was coming, but it still feels strange that it’s real. There’s a short-ish contract on the other side of the docusign link, and you know you should read it carefully, but it just seems… overwhelming. With a deep breath, you close the window and go back to your messages, opening the one from the other unknown number.

Unknown [17:20]: Hi… I hope your flight was okay. You should have the thing to sign. I promise there’s nothing weird in there, but take your time 🙂

You shouldn’t find the fact that he texts like your grandmother endearing, but you immediately do. The smile on your face tells you everything you need to know—you’re looking at your screen with the dopiest grin and starting to realize you’re maybe in a little trouble.

You [22:11]: so, no weird stuff?

Namjoon [22:11]: Hi! You landed. And no, no weird stuff

You [22:12]: why aren’t you asleep yet?

Namjoon [22:13]: Too excited to sleep

You [22:13]: excited about the hockney?

Namjoon [22:14]: That too 😉

You’re fucked.

It’s not until later, when you’re safe and sound at your childhood home, blankets tucked up around you in the bed you slept in for seventeen years of your life, that you reply to him.

You [01:03]: cute

When he doesn’t answer right away, you have to force yourself to not overthink it—both of you just traveled literally around the world, and he’s probably asleep, which is something you should be too if you want to have any hope of enjoying the next couple of days. You pull a sleep mask on, stick your headphones in, and fall asleep to a podcast you’ve never heard of. As you drift off, you think you probably already know what your dreams will be about.

The next few days are a whirlwind. You sign the NDA when you wake up at some god-forsaken hour of the morning on the first day. Turns out, once it’s done, you feel a lot better. You won’t have to think about it again, and for some inexplicable reason, you know you can trust Namjoon when he says ‘no weird stuff,’ although you’re dying to know what he thinks would constitute ‘weird’ that isn’t fucking a journalist in an airport bathroom on a whim.

Over breakfast, your mom and sister fill you in on the activities you’ll be expected to participate in over the week, in advance of your sister’s wedding. There are dress fittings, last minute visits to confirm details with the wedding planner, a family-only brunch, a rehearsal dinner, a bachelorette party…

The list goes on until your Cheerios are gone and you’re feeling more overwhelmed than you were before you fell asleep. But your sister looks even worse off than you, her eyes a little wide and her hands a little shaky around her coffee mug, and you wish you knew what to say to make her feel better, but you’ve got no idea how to put yourself in her shoes.

The whole marriage thing hasn’t even been on your radar as you’ve chased school, graduate school, work in the states, work in Korea… always more more more, trying to prove something to yourself. What that something is, you don’t even know. But it’s kept you busy enough that it’s been ages since you let yourself fall into anything serious—preferring friends with benefits and just plain friends to the hassles of an actual relationship. And based on the way your sister looks like she might crawl out of her own skin with apprehension, you think you’ve probably made the right choices.

Your phone buzzes on the table, drawing your attention away from your mother’s long list of tasks.

Namjoon [08:06]: You think I’m cute?

You [08:06]: have you looked in a mirror lately?

You stare at the screen as you wait for a response. He’s been quick so far, so you wonder what’s got him pausing, those three imposing dots coming off and on the screen a few times before you finally get a message.

Namjoon [08:09]: Actually, yeah. There’s a great one in the lounge at Heathrow…

Oh, fuck. The heat traveling up your neck is instant, all your thoughts immediately go to that stupid bathroom and the look on his face when he came; jaw slack, eyes dark, bottom lip pulled under his teeth… You feel like you might combust at the breakfast table.

“Honey?”

Your head snaps up from your phone and you see your sister and your mom both staring at you.

“Huh? Sorry!” You fumble with your phone and lock the screen, turning it to silent before you put it back on the table—face down of course. “Work stuff.”

Lucky for you, it seems you’ve found the key to alleviating your sister’s stress, as her worried frown turns into a knowing smirk. “You must have dedicated colleagues! Isn’t it like… midnight in Seoul?”

To cover your panic, you take a long drink of your coffee and nod. “Yep, I got so lucky with this job,” you choke out.

“Mmhmm,” she murmurs, thankfully not pushing it in front of your mom, who has already re-launched into super-party-planner mode. You exchange sympathetic glances with your sister, neither of you with the heart to tell your mother that she should just relax and let the wedding planner handle things.

There is so much to do in advance of a wedding, you really had no idea. It makes you feel guilty about most of the judgmental thoughts you’ve ever had when attending other peoples’. Everyone must just be doing their best, you think, as you watch your sister get poked and pulled and sucked in and tucked into her (absolutely stunning) dress.

The shop is a small boutique one, way fancier than you’ve ever imagined yourself in. Your sister has always been kind of like that, though. She likes to have nice things, dress nicely, live up to all the expectations your parents had of the both of you. Sometimes, you think you do as well, maybe not with designer clothes and a rich fiance, but you have a good job that you’re passionate about and you’re happy—even if sometimes a little lonely. Parents always say that’s what they want for their kids above all else, so by that standard, you’re nailing it.

Turns out, dress fittings take an exhaustingly long time. You’ve been sitting on the chaise outside the changing room for what feels like days, and it seems like she’s not even close to being finished. More champagne would be in order, but it’s still daylight and you don’t know how much day drinking you can get away with while you’re sitting next to your high-strung mother and your sister’s even-higher-strung future mother-in-law.

The temptation to look at your phone is too high to resist, so you put your champagne flute down and check your messages for the first time since breakfast.

Namjoon [11:31]: Was that too much?

Namjoon [14:27]: It was too much. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just can’t stop thinking about you.

Namjoon [14:29]: That probably sounds creepy. Forget I said that. Can you delete text messages? It’s 2022 for the love of god.

Namjoon [14:34]: Please just ignore all of this, okay? I’m totally chill about everything, I promise.

You [15:06]: imagine what the locals would say if they knew RM was a quadruple texter

Namjoon [15:06]: I fucked this up, didn’t I?

You [15:07]: no, you’re good. still cute

Namjoon [15:07]: Would it be weird if I said I wanted to call you?

You [15:08]: not weird, sounds nice actually, but i’m at a wedding dress shop so maybe later?

Namjoon [15:09]: …You’re where?

You [15:09]: a wedding dress shop - my sister’s getting married this weekend

Namjoon [15:10]: Your sister! Cool!

You [15:10]: yes, very cool to be subjected to a week of my mother acting like a clinically insane person. anyway, i can call later if you’re around

Namjoon [15:11]: I might be, let me know when you’re free

You [15:11]: will do - you’re probably busy. what’re you up to, anyway?

Namjoon [15:11]: Nothing much

You [15:12]: okay, man of mystery 🙄 keep your secrets, then

Namjoon [15:12]: It’s really nothing. You’d be surprised how boring I can be

When you slide your phone back into your bag and look up, your mother is practically boring holes in the side of your head with her death glare. On the pedestal in front of you, your sister looks like an actual angel, and instead of glaring at you, she’s smirking again.

“What?” you ask both of them.

“What’s so important you need to have your nose glued to that screen?” your mom asks impatiently.

“Nothing, just more work stuff.” You’re obviously lying, and they both probably know it.

“I wish I had a job like yours,” your sister teases.

“Shut up,” you mumble under your breath. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks.” She blushes and turns to look at her reflection. “It’s pretty wild, right? Me getting married…”

“It’s perfect,” you assure her. “We’re all so happy for you.”

You don’t find time to call Namjoon later that day, your mom keeping you busy with wedding-related chores until you need to start getting ready for your sister’s bachelorette party. It’s got you sort of on edge—you think you’ve been pretty calm in your texts with him, but inside you’re a livewire, all the curiosity and excitement of something new has you some combination of interested and skeptical.

Once you’re ready, makeup on and squeezed into your small dress, you’re still waiting for your sister. She’s on the floor cross-legged in front of your full-length mirror doing her own makeup and swearing lightly under her breath. You’re not the only one with low-grade anxiety this week, it seems. On your phone, you find a playlist you think seems fun enough to get you in the mood to make questionable choices and carefree enough to distract you both from your current worries.

“This okay?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” she says, eyeing you from the mirror. “You look good, sis.”

“Thanks. Been looking for a reason to wear this and I don’t get out much in Seoul.” The leather dress is impossibly short, in no way work-appropriate, and the only functions you go to where you could get away with it happen to be the ones you’re on the clock for. So it’s been hanging in your closet since the time you bought it on an optimistic whim, reminding you of the fun you’re not having most nights.

“Seems like you got out somewhere,” she observes, flicking a mascara wand over her lashes. “You should send him a selfie, your tits are top-tier in that.”

Your eyes roll so far back in your head you momentarily wonder if they’ll center themselves again. “I’m not going to send him a thirst trap.”

She cackles at that. “Hah! So, there is a him to send it to! I knew it!”

Fuck, she’s good. “Fuck off.”

“You have to be nice to me, it’s my night.”

“I’m your sister, I never have to be nice to you.”

“Quit arguing and send him a picture, dummy. If you don’t, I'll wait until you’re drunk later and send him something embarrassing from your phone.”

“You would never…” But you know she would. She’s done worse. She pins you with a look that says exactly that, so you sigh and pick up your phone, angling to get the picture right, fluffing up your hair a little and trying the pouting thing that other people always make look cute. You’re not sure it works for you, but she seems convinced when you show her the first couple shots.

“It’s really not like that with him,” you protest. “It was probably just a one-time thing.”

“You usually spend whole afternoons giggling into your phone like a teenager with your one-night stands?” she teases.

And that is a good point… Sort of a good one. You’re not sure what’s going on with Namjoon, but he did text you first, and often, and kind of enthusiastically, so maybe he meant it when he said he wanted to see you again. At least sending a selfie might be a good way to test the waters.

“Okay, fine. Which one?” you ask, handing her your phone.

She points at one where you think you look the most desperate, but she calls it ‘sexy,’ so you go with it.

His response is immediate.

Namjoon [21:20]: Holy shit

You flush and show her the phone, and in turn she claps and bounces around like the endearing weirdo she is. She’s always been your biggest cheerleader.

You [21:21]: bachelorette party outfit - looks okay?

Namjoon [21:21]: Incredible. How do I get an invite to this party?

You [21:21]: it’s very exclusive, sorry

Namjoon [21:22]: What a tease

And you’re sure you’re about to reply with something witty and sexy and fun, but instead, your sister snatches your phone and shuts it off. “Time to go,” she says. “You can sext later.”

“I am not… I would never—” you sputter as she laughs maniacally and pulls you up off the bed.

“We really need to leave, but you can tell me all about him on the way to the club.”

Turns out, a limo full of your sister’s friends with countless bottles of champagne means you do not tell her all about him on the way to the club. Nor do you when you’re at the club, dancing until you can’t feel your calves and drinking more pink cocktails than you’d ever known to exist. You don’t know your sister’s friends too well, but they’re fun: loud, excitable, supportive… You have a great time… maybe too great of a time, since your headache starts kicking in before you even get your coat back.

While the rest of them continue drinking (mixing new kinds of liquors in on the ride back to the hotel you’re all staying at), you grab water from the mini bar and painkillers from your purse and start the delicate work of trying to make sure you can function in the morning. It wouldn’t be so bad, except you promised you’d meet Seokjin for coffee in the morning, and you haven’t seen him in ages.

It’s much later—and you’re painfully sober—when you crawl into your hotel room bed and flick your phone back on so you can set an alarm for your coffee date. It’s a part of the morning you haven’t seen in a really long time; you’re going to feel like shit when you have to get up in a handful of hours, but your sister seemed to have a great time, so it was worth it. You check your messages, and if it’s only because you see you have one from Namjoon, that’s nobody’s business but yours.

Namjoon [00:12]: What is it about you in a dress? I can’t think straight since you sent that. You’re making me crazy, you know?

God, you really like him. You feel the same way he does, like he’s making you lose your mind a little bit. It’s all so strange and fast, but easy, too. All you want to do is get through this wedding and get back to Seoul so you can see him properly. Even just to talk again. It sounds stupid maybe, but you really liked talking to him in that airport. He’s clever and quick and kind… he’s just everything. And it seems like maybe, maybe, maybe he might think something similar about you for whatever reason.

It’s not fair, the timing of this whole thing.

The next morning, you drag yourself out of bed and through a shower and your skincare routine. The coffee shop you’re headed to is close to the hotel, so you walk, hoping some fresh air will help the foggy feeling in your head from the poor choices you made the night before.

It sort of does, but you still feel awful until you clock Seokjin sitting at a table in front of the shop, one big, sugary (if you know him at all, which you do) drink in his hand, and one bigger, but less-sugary (if he knows you at all) drink on the table opposite him.

“Jinnie!”

You practically launch yourself at him when you approach, and he squeaks out his surprise before pulling you into a tight hug.

“You look like shit,” he whispers into your ear.

That earns him a slap on the shoulder. “I’ve missed you too, brat. You, of course, don’t look like shit. Thanks for the coffee.” You sit and take a drink. It’s perfect. “It’s perfect.”

“Of course it is,” he says smugly.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, kiddo.”

“Thanks for coming to the wedding with me.”

“Are you kidding? Your sister has great taste—I wouldn’t miss it.”

Kim Seokjin has been your best friend since… Well, since you can remember. He grew up down the street from you, and one day, he offered you a chocolate milkshake out of the blue when you were riding by on your bike. You accepted, quickly realized that it was not, in fact, a milkshake, but dirt mixed with a careful proportion of water. You spit it out, screamed and panicked, and Seokjin just laughed… and laughed and laughed. The next thing you realized was that his laugh was like a drug, and you sort of wanted to hear it all the time. So from then on, the two of you were inseparable. You made it a life goal to drag as much laughter out of him as possible, and he offered it freely and often.

Since you were kids, you’ve been there for all of each other’s firsts. He comforted you through your first breakup, you coached him through his first kiss, you were study buddies in high school, and then in college. You worked for free at his restaurant off and on when you graduated, knowing that his parents had basically chanced their retirement on his success, and by then, they were your family too.

And now, he’s agreed to be your date to your sister’s wedding, since you almost never have any solid romantic prospects, and he never turns down a free meal. Or your company, but he’d probably not admit that out loud.

“How’ve you been, my sweet, big-shot chef?”

The tips of his ears flush pink, and it’s a tell that he’s got good stuff to share, so you settle in and listen.

“—and that’s when I knew I liked her,” he says as he wraps up the sort of life recap you do when you’ve known someone forever and they can fill in some of the gaps themselves.

“When she fell down the stairs because you scared the shit out of her?”

“No, when she laughed about it.”

You nod knowingly. Seokjin has always liked people who don’t take themselves too seriously. People who can take a joke and make themselves the joke when needed.

“She sounds lovely,” you say.

“Wanna see?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

His new girlfriend, in addition to apparently being clumsy, is fucking stunning. Of course she is, because Seokjin is fucking stunning, too. You hate that you immediately think they’d have the prettiest babies.

“We’re going to have cute kids,” he says, like he’s got a little radio tuned in permanently to your thoughts.

“That’s a big deal, Jinnie, to be thinking about kids.”

He flushes even deeper and sinks into his seat a little, running a hand through his fluffy hair. “I think she might be it, you know?”

“Shit.”

“Shit, indeed,” he agrees, nodding into his coffee. “How about you?”

You huff out a breath and shake your head. “Nothing new, really. Just a lot of work.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know?”

“What?” “I already talked to your sister, she told me there’s a guy.”

You’ll never survive this visit home, you think. Your eyes are going to get stuck facing inwards after all the rolling and you’re going to possibly commit murder. You can see the headlines now, “local girl kills gossipy sister and best friend day before absurdly extravagant wedding.”

“There’s not a guy,” you mutter. “It’s not a thing.”

“So there’s not a guy? Or, there is a guy and it’s not a thing? Or, there is a guy and there might be a thing, but you think if you let yourself be excited about it you’ll jinx it or something equally as stupid?”

This fucking guy. Thinks he knows you.

“Option three, I think,” you mumble. He does know you.

Mercifully, Seokjin lets it go when you say you’re not ready to talk about it. Your coffee goes fast, and you spend the afternoon doing a whole lot of nothing with him; you wander up and down the streets of your city, window shopping, catching up on all the gossip he has about people you went to high school with. You end up with very little time to get ready for your sister’s rehearsal dinner, which seems to bother Seokjin more than it bothers you.

He whines to no one in particular as he fixes his hair in your bathroom, you pull on the floral-patterned dress that you don’t like but your mom told you to wear, and you dig out the color-coordinated tie you’d bought for your date.

“You shouldn’t have,” he says, when he comes out of the bathroom and sees you holding the pastel tie up.

“You know how my mom is,” you say.

“Taste in clothing worse than her taste in men?”

“Just wear the tie, Jinnie.”

He does wear the tie, and at dinner, your mom coos over how nice you look together, which quickly turns into her complaining that you can “never just find a nice guy like Seokjin,” and “isn’t it a shame that you two never dated,” she laments to your aunt. Your aunt, properly drunk as she usually is and as one should be at these kinds of things, takes this as an opportunity to shamelessly flirt with your best friend, who flushes pink and laughs a high-pitched, uncomfortable kind of laugh. He flips you off behind his back when you excuse yourself to get a drink and leave him alone with your would-be-cougar relative.

All in all, the night goes well, and you and Seokjin both end up having fun. You dance like idiots after dinner, you say nice things in front of everyone about your sister and her fiance, and Seokjin gives you a dramatic standing ovation after your speech, which should be awkward but is hilarious instead. You stumble out of the restaurant together when it’s over, both a little tipsy, and share a cab back to your mom’s house to try and get some sleep before the wedding the next day.

Once you have him all set up in the guest room with a quiet, “Goodnight, Jinnie” (because he’s asleep almost the instant his head hits the pillow), you head to your own room.

When you’re settled in bed, you decide you should probably check your work email, and maybe reply to Namjoon.

You [22:45]: glad you liked the dress - did you have a good day?

His reply comes after you’ve switched over to shooting off quick replies to some time-sensitive email in your inbox.

Namjoon [22:52]: Pretty good, saw the Hockney 😍 You?

You [22:57]: was it everything you thought it would be? i’m good, saw my best friend

Namjoon [22:57]: It was better. Did you tell her about me?

You [22:58]: nda remember? and he. he’s a he

You send him a picture you took of you and Seokjin at the dinner, one where he’s making a stupid face and you’re rolling your eyes at him. You both look silly, but happy.

Namjoon [22:58]: Lucky guy

You [23:00]: that’s seokjin - i’ve known him my whole life

Namjoon [23:01]: Googles: how to be a seokjin. You look beautiful, btw

You [23:01]: please, i know you’re using naver - you’re ridiculous

Namjoon [23:02]: Ridiculously handsome? Ridiculously interesting? Ridiculously into this girl I met through work

You actually stifle a quiet scream into your pillow at that. Who the fuck talks like that? He’s such a strange combination of awkward and forward and you think you might be more into that than you’d expected. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to say that. Just so he knows he’s not alone…

You [23:04]: crazy, i’m pretty into this guy i met through work

Namjoon [23:04]: 😁

It’s incredible how he can be so… dorky like this, when you’ve seen him on stage and he’s… not that when he’s performing. You think you like this side even more than the other. The best of both worlds, you decide.

You [23:05]: goodnight, namjoon

Namjoon [23:05]: Goodnight ❤️

It’s just a stupid emoji, but you honestly think you might combust. You want to run down the hall and shake Seokjin awake and show him the whole chain of messages, and it takes all of your willpower (and the fact that you literally signed something saying you wouldn’t) to not do that.

That night, you dream of Seoul, maybe a sign that you’re missing your new home a little. You miss gray skies and cozy cafes and the constant thrumming of the city around you. You dream of those things with a blurry-faced Namjoon by your side—you and Namjoon knocking shoulders on the sidewalk in Sinchon, you and Namjoon sipping coffee in the shop you like in Hongdae. When you wake up, you feel nostalgic for things you haven’t yet done, that you’ve only experienced in dreams. It’s a soft feeling, warm and comforting, and you realize you’re a little excited to get back and see if you can turn those dreams into something real.

But first, you have a wedding to attend, and a best friend down the hall who will be an absolute monster if you don’t get up and help him make some breakfast soon.

Your sister’s wedding is beautiful. She’s stunning, her new husband is practically giddy, and you decide you’d like that kind of love someday, where it practically radiates out of you, where it’s unmistakable to anyone lucky enough to bear witness. Their vows are simple and sweet, your mom cries, then Seokjin cries and you snap a picture to use as blackmail later.

You dance, you facetime with Seokjin’s girlfriend, who is every bit as lovely as he’d described her, you don’t drink much because you want to make sure you’re coherent and available for your sister if she needs anything. They cut the cake just after nine in the evening, and by eleven, you’ve made sure a drunk-ish Seokjin is safely in a taxi on the way to his girlfriend. Shortly thereafter, you toss flower petals over your sister and her husband as they make their exit, and your duties for the evening are complete.

When you finally make it home, you crawl into a warm bath, hoping to give your calves some relief from three nights of too-tall heels and too much bad dancing. You’re scrolling through instagram, checking out some pictures of a gallery show you’re dying to get to back in Seoul, when your phone rings.

“Hi.” You grab your headphones to answer, and your voice is a little shaky when you speak quietly—you’re not sure why you’re so nervous.

“Hey,” Namjoon says. “Is this okay? To call you?”

“Wouldn’t have answered if it weren’t probably.”

You hear him give a breathy laugh. “How was the wedding?”

“Good. Really good, actually. I think she’s really happy,” you say.

“Sounds like you’re smiling,” he says. You are, and it sounds like he’s smiling when he says it, too.

There’s a pause where neither of you speak. You can hear he has music playing wherever he is, something soft, with a steady beat. It sounds like something you’d like, maybe some kind of Japanese lofi hip hop…

“Is that Nujabes?” you ask.

“You know him?”

“Of course I do.”

“God, I think I lo—uh… nevermind. Yeah, it’s him. I listen to Modal Soul a lot when I travel. It’s relaxing.”

You nod against the edge of the tub even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, I get that.”

“So… what’re you up to?… That was lame, sorry… I guess I don’t really know how to do this.” He laughs at himself, and you laugh with him. He’s so goddamn cute you can’t hardly stand it.

“You don’t know how to talk on the phone?”

“Funny. Don’t know how to talk on the phone to the prettiest girl I know. Can’t believe you answered.”

“It’s your lucky night, I guess,” you joke. “Anyway, I’m not doing anything. Just camped out in the bath trying to wind down.” You hear him suck in a breath, and you wonder if you said something wrong. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah… Just… Can I be honest?”

“Of course you can.”

“Think my brain stopped working when you said you were in the bath.”

Heat rises in your cheeks; you hadn’t even considered it was sort of a strange confession to make. Or a forward one, anyway. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t be. Just sort of… wish I was there instead of here. Where I am. Which is not in the bathroom with you while you take a bath. Probably naked…” He trails off with a groan and then tacks on, more to himself than to you, “What is wrong with me?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “It’s nice to be… wanted, if that makes sense.”

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he replies quickly. “I hope that’s not too much.”

It’s not. You’re starting to think that it might never, ever be too much with him. Like he could talk and give and offer and you would always want, always take. It feels dangerous, how much you like him after so, so little. It scares you to think how far this could go, how deep you could get. Makes you wonder how much worse (better?) this will be when you’re in the same city again.

“It’s not. Sort of wish you were here, too.”

“Sort of?”

“Maybe just… not in a bathroom again.”

He laughs at that, some of the tension draining out of your phone call. You love the sound of his laugh in a different way than you love Seokjin’s, but it’s also the kind that makes you want to hear it more.

“Yeah, a proper bedroom would be nice,” he agrees. “Thought about it a lot,” he says, half under his breath, like he’s not sure he wants you to hear.

Your curiosity though… it gets the best of you. “Really? Thought about me like that?”

“Every night since London,” he says.

“Oh… wow. That’s…”

“Creepy?”

You laugh. “Hot. It’s hot, Joon.” Your bravery is back, or maybe it’s stupidity, but he opened the door, so you step through, your voice lowered. “Did you touch yourself?”

“Oh, fuck… Yeah, I did.” He lets out a little nervous-sounding whine and you can almost picture him rubbing the back of his neck like you’ve seen him do in person and on tv when he’s a little unsure of himself. “Thought of you, and… And I came so hard.”

It’s instant, the way your body reacts to that. You feel heat building low, your mouth even waters a little. It should be embarrassing, it should be weird. You don’t even really know him… But you want. “Bet you looked good,” you say, because it’s true, because you’ve seen what he looks like when he comes, you can’t stop thinking about what he looks like when he comes and wondering when you’ll get to see it again.

“Baby…” he breathes out. “Are we really doing this?”

“I think so,” you reply, your fingers skimming down your abdomen, dipping below the water so you can relieve just a little bit of the pressure building in your core. “If you want to.” Then you add, voice hushed. “I want to. Like it when you call me that.”

Through your headphones, you hear his breath catch, and then get a little heavier. “I like it, too… Are you… Are you touching yourself?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm. “Feels good.”

Namjoon lets out a whimper. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Can’t believe you’re real. Can’t believe you want me.”

“Want you so much,” you whine, fingers moving across your clit, then down lower… You slide one inside, you’re slick with want, even underwater. “Want you to touch yourself, too.”

“Fuck, I want you, too. Wish I could get my mouth on you—bet you taste so good,” he says. “Can’t stop thinking about getting you in my bed, on your back, fucking you on my tongue.” His voice is a little shaky now, too, and you close your eyes, letting yourself imagine it’s his finger in you, his hand playing with one of your nipples. “I’d make you feel so good, baby.”

“Know you would… Already have…”

It’s almost perfect, the sound of his breath in your ear, just like it was at the airport, and you can almost feel it now, the way it felt then. You rub circles over your clit, one leg coming out of the water to rest on the edge of the bathtub; you just want more.

It’s almost enough, Namjoon’s breathy, short moans as he strokes himself on the other end of the line, your fingers working methodically…

But it’s not quite right… you keep thinking about how full you felt with his cock buried in you, how you’re not sure if anything else will ever be enough again. “Love the way you sound,” he says. “Want to hear you always…”

“It’s just… not enough. Want your cock…” you whine.

“Yeah? Needy girl… You take me so well,” he says, voice thick with want. “So tight… Felt so good for me…”

Your hand moves faster, you slip another finger in and gasp shallowly when you find your g-spot. For some reason, you remember when he called you a good girl in the airport—you wonder if you could use it to your advantage.

“Wish you were fucking me… I’d be so good for you, promise.”

Namjoon makes a choked sound and his breath quickens. “Know you would, baby… Always so good for me… Fuck, I’m so hard for you, want to be inside you,” he says. “I’m close already… Wish you were here, wish I could see you.”

“I’m close, too. Gonna come soon…please… ” Your thighs are starting to tremble and you feel your orgasm coming quickly—it’s going to be over too soon. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for.

“That’s it, baby… wanna hear you come for me… come on…” You know the urgency in his voice, a little desperate, like he’s falling apart the same way you are.

That thought has you coming, orgasm spreading a warm shiver through your whole body as your leg falls back in the water and you close your thighs, hand still moving carefully over your clit. You whisper his name, your head resting on the edge of the tub as you blink your eyes open.

“Fuck, you sound so good…” he says, almost pained, voice low and raspy.

“You do too, Joon. So, so good… Love hearing you like this…”

You know the instant it happens—his breath catches when he comes and you picture what he looks like… Probably so fucking good, and you wish you were with him and you want, want, want. Never enough… he makes you so greedy.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “You’re amazing… Turn me into a mess.”

You smile, starting to come back into your body a little. “You make me a mess, too… But I think I like it.”

“I like it, too,” he says.

“Good.”

Neither of you speaks for a while, and in the silence, you realize your bathwater is cool and your skin is pruning from being in there too long. You hope your mom had enough champagne to sleep through whatever splashing and whimpering you were doing. The thought of her hearing makes you laugh, and also want to crawl under a blanket and never come out.

“So…” Namjoon says, “Just another week or so until you’re in Seoul, right?”

“Mmhmm.” You pull the plug in the bath and watch the water start to swirl in a little whirlpool down the drain. A good metaphor for what Namjoon is doing to your inhibitions.

“You maybe… want to get a drink sometime?” It’s involuntary, the laugh you let out, and louder than you should. You slap a hand over your mouth and let yourself laugh silently into your palm. “What?” he asks.

“You. You are such a dork,” you say, grin obvious in your tone.

His is obvious, too. “Hey, now! I’m a famous rapper. People think I’m very tough.”

“And a dork,” you tease.

“And a dork,” he concedes. “I like you, you know.”

“I like you, too.”

“You sound tired. Going to sleep soon?”

“I think so. Long day. Good ending, though.”

Namjoon laughs. “The best. But messy. I should go clean up.”

“Okay… thanks for this.”

“Are you kidding?” he says, “I should be thanking you.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to buy me that drink.” You climb out of the tub and wrap yourself in one of your mom’s fluffy towels. You wonder how parents always have the softest towels. Even when you spend a lot of money, yours never live up to hers. Like she has some kind of towel magic.

“Can’t wait to buy you a drink, baby.” His voice is soft and kind and a little bit fucked out. It’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. He’s got some kind of magic, too, you think.

“Goodnight, Namjoon.”

“Goodnight.”

next chapter

#bts smut #bts fanfic #bts writing #namjoon smut #namjoon fic #namjoon imagine #bts imagines #bts fanfction #namjoon fanfiction #btswritersclub #kvanity

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wardenparker · 5 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 13

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* References to past sexual encounters, a dash of angst, light gambling (friendly wager on cards), Reference to the Civil War, family drama/angst, brief mentions of blood drinking, tooth rotting fluff. Summary: Off on an adventure to Gilded Age New York City, the train ride has as much excitement in store as you could possibly have expected from the entire trip. Notes: A short but emotionally impactful chapter this week, my loves! Please enjoy a glimpse at a Pullman sleeper car. They're honestly pretty beautiful and comfy and I'd love to travel in one 💚

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

Your breath is even, making your chest rise and fall slowly against his cool body. Wrapping around him as if you are afraid he would leave this bed while you rest. Even in sleep, your blissful sighs are soft and content, worn out by the endless hours Max had wrung orgasm after orgasm out of you. Learning your limits and everything that you like and dislike when a man has his tongue buried in your warmth. His own smirk is self-satisfied and slightly smug from the number of times you had called out to the gods because of the pleasure.

Hours later, after sleeping the morning and even some of the afternoon away and having an afternoon tea that is the equivalent of a Gilded Age light lunch, Mr. Taylor is loading your trunks onto the carriage that Emmanuel has arrived in to take you all to the train station. While your mother is saying a very sweet goodbye to her own mother, you and Max are standing just at the doorstep with Yayo.

“When you return we will discuss your intent to return home,” he tells you quietly, keeping his choice of words intentionally enigmatic. “For now, enjoy yourselves. I understand the Vanderbilts have offered you their guest rooms so you do not have to stay anywhere as impersonal as a hotel?”

Max smirks slightly and nods. “We have accepted the gracious invitation and will be a sterling example of the Brown name.” While Max is not using the same last name, he understands that his sire has vouched for him and any scandal would fall back on his reputation.

“Enjoy yourselves.” What Yayo has not told you is that he had given Max something of an allowance to be used while you are in New York, making sure that the group of you will be able to dine, shop, and travel as you see fit for your five-day trip. You’re even taking Renee with you, as you and Annie will doubtlessly need the help dressing for your many outings and dinners, and it would put a strain on the Vanderbilt’s staff if they had to supply two young ladies with a suitable maid for almost a week. Emmanuel’s valet has been instructed that he will also be dressing Max during the trip. It’s all…extraordinarily overdone, in your opinion. But as vacations go? It might be the single most luxurious one you’ll ever take in your life. So you intend to enjoy it.

“We intend to.” You assure your grandfather after he shakes Max’s hand and places a very paternal kiss on your cheek. “Thank you. I know this means the world to Annie.”

Max watches the exchange between you and your grandfather with soft affection. The knowing glint in the elder vampire’s eyes was telling and he had been subtly warned to take care of both you and your mother while off on this trip.

“And be sure to call on the Astors just to be polite.” He urges. The Astors and Roosevelts had been welcoming to you at the ball after finding out that you and Max were considered family.

“We’re having dinner there on Wednesday.” Getting that invitation had been thrilling as all hell. Just about as thrilling as when Max came to you seconds later to excitedly tell you that the Vanderbilts had offered you lodging. Max had been very popular last night.

“Very well.” Max’s sire nods seriously and glances at your soulmate. “We will see you when you return.”

Still in an extremely good mood from last night and from this morning, you lend your grandfather a smile before stepping away from the door to get into the carriage. "Enjoy having some peace and quiet."

Cookie slides up to her soulmate’s side and wraps her arm through his with a sly smirk. “We will.” She promises as she winks at you.

The carriage is large enough for the four of you to pile into, and the clear sky of the day means that Renee and Emmanuel's valet happily sit with the driver. The chilly October day is still sunny this afternoon and by the time you reach the train station and are loaded on board, the pinks and purples of sunset streak the sky through the windows of the Pullman car to light up the green and bronze colored interior brilliantly.

“This is niiiiiice.” Max knows none of the others will get the reference, but you will understand the tone as he examines the interior of the carriage with great enthusiasm.

Barely managing not to snort when you laugh, you have to cover your face and clear your throat to get your composure back when Emmanuel looks at you both quizzically. “It is exceptionally luxurious. And very kind of you to share your car with us.”

“This could feel like the elegant parlor in a home.” Max offers, reaching out and touching the pillow that it sitting in a cushioned chair.

“We have teased my mother that she spent more time styling the family’s car than she did choosing names for us all,” Emmanuel jokes, looking around the space with pride. “It is rather splendid though, is it not?”

“I think you could comfortably live in something like this.” Max is fully aware of the future, but it’s still a nice thought. Traveling by rail and touring the country is far more romantic than driving in an RV.

“Perhaps we should.” A squeeze of his hand makes him more than aware that you’re teasing, but you still wink playfully. “Travel the country in a Pullman car to decide where to live? It sounds positively luxurious.”

Max arches a brow at Emmanuel teasingly. “Happy wife, happy life, that’s my motto. Sounds like I might be ordering one from you. What all can go into one?”

The look of delight on Emmanuel’s face is like Christmas two months early, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself as your mother’s soulmate embarks on an obviously passionate listing of all the perks and practical benefits of long-term train travel in these cars specifically. “I think he enjoys talking about his family’s business,” you observe to Annie wryly.

“He is very proud of it.” She murmurs back, pride on her own face as she watches the two of them discuss business. “His dream to is run the company one day after his grandfather passes.”

“I’m sure they will be very proud to have him take over.” Knowing that the man will not survive that long makes you swallow your regret, but there is nothing you can do about it. History cannot be changed. If you interfere to spare your mother’s heartbreak, you will literally never be born.

"With the right woman by his side." She giggles quietly and bites her lip as she nearly vibrates with excitement. Emmanuel had asked to speak to her father just this morning and she's sure that a proposal is coming.

“Give him time.” Not having vampiric hearing, you’re unaware of what happened downstairs this afternoon while you were getting dressed to leave Newport. “Do not be disappointed if he takes a little time.”

"He spoke with father." She leans into whisper in confidence, breaking out into a large, happy grin. "I have a feeling that we will be engaged by the Astor's ball!"

“That will be quite the souvenir to return home with from the city.” It would be a wonderful thing for her right now, obviously, but you dread the idea that she might take your new found friendship so straight forwardly and do something like ask you to be in her wedding party. Something you would have to say no to.

"I think I might die!" She giggles dramatically and collapses against your arm. "He is just so perfect. And I've decided that I will ask him about his scars tonight."

“Then we might have a very eventful trip indeed.” She’s so happy and it’s intense and infectious and so very sweet — you can’t help but hug her as she stands beside you. “I would ask if you are excited to see the Vanderbilts again but I think you must have spent a lot of time with them.”

"Despite my father thinking little of their plans to tear down the cottages and build a bigger home, he quite likes them." She shrugs. "They have been very kind, especially when in social gatherings."

“With six children, I can only think the house must be very crowded.” There were so many times as a child that you had wished for that many siblings, but as an adult the idea of giving birth to six kids makes you want to carry a bottle of Advil out of fear.

"I cannot even imagine." Annie shakes her head and bites her lip. "I don't think I would want that many children myself."

“Neither do I.” Ah. Interesting to know after the fact that you were an only child because your mother very reasonably didn’t want to put her body through that. That sounds very much like your pragmatic mother.

"Although, mother assures me that father has the most delightful pain tonic to help with the pains." She sighs softly. "I was never lonely like some expected me to be as an only child."

“Then you were very lucky.” Before you can say more, which is probably for the best, the conductor comes around to ask the four of you to settle in for the beginning of the journey. There is a table and set of four chairs in the center of the car for you to sit together, and Emmanuel reaches into his pocket to pull out a deck of cards. “Shall we amuse ourselves before dinner?” He offers, putting the deck on the table before holding Annie’s chair out for her to sit comfortably

"Absolutely." Max has learned how gentleman play cards in this time and finds it fascinating.

"Shall I pour you ladies a sherry to enjoy?" Emmanuel asks, motioning to a bar cart set up in one corner.

“If we could have tea?” Annie quickly asks the gentleman before he leaves your car all together. He nods politely and exits. “I…have noticed that your wife does not often partake, Mr. Philips. I would not wish my dear friend to feel left alone.”

“It is true, my wife does not enjoy the taste of alcohol.” Max agrees. “It is not a bad thing, I find that the taste is rather bitter myself and dinners are far more reasonable with tea than a bottle of wine.”

“Then we will all have tea.” Emmanuel offers, once Max has you settled at the table. With the four of you sitting it’s a very happy atmosphere and Emmanuel begins to shuffle the deck.

Max shoots you a grin as he leans back and watches Emmanuel. “Aficionado, hmmmm? We’ll see. Perhaps we might have to make a wager if you are as good as you imagine you are.”

“How much?” The other man chuckles, feeling lively at the proposition.

“How about a nickel a hand?” Max asks, raising a brow playfully. When he had been a broke college kid, it had been quarter poker, but five cents is particularly generous in this time.

“That’s a very friendly wager, Max.” It makes the other man laugh again, and he nods. From the depths of his coin purse he is sure to unearth as many rounds’ worth of nickels as ever he should need. “A nickel a hand it is.”

Max grins and pulls out some bills to exchange for the nickels and divides them but between all of you.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a card player, but I'm happy to try." Modern poker, or Go Fish, or even a game of hearts on your laptop while you were in college was all fairly standard. But bridge has proven difficult for you to pick up, if a few nights of sitting at the card table with you mother and grandmother are anything to go by.

“Don’t worry.” Max reaches out and pats your hand. “Why don’t we keep the rules simple?”

"Just regular poker will do." Annie's grin is mischievous and instantly you're back at the dining room table with your parents on Sunday afternoons while they played cards and you did homework or colored or read a book. It seemed to be the only time you weren't twirling around the house like a sugared up cyclone.

He arches a brow at your mother and grins. “Regular poker it is.” Emmanuel laughs as he starts to dole out the cards to everyone. “Aces high, Jokers bust.”

It might be the most relaxed and most pleasant way to pass an evening that you’ve had in ages. No television to sit around, not all of you sitting individually on your phones. Just a card game and a pot of tea and friends. Although, it is particularly entertaining to watch Max realize that your mother is an exceptional poker player, which is definitely not what he had anticipated.

“Renee had a sweetheart in the war twenty years ago,” Annie explains through giggles at the table after she wins yet another hand. “He taught her the game after they played it at their camps so often, and she taught me.”

“Really?” Max has always been interested in the other vampire, wanting to know her story, but she’s surprisingly closed mouthed. “They must have had fun playing cards.”

“It was about one of the only fun things they did have.” Annie agrees, swallowing a sigh. “He was a part of a medical unit. The poor man survived the entire war and then succumbed to a fever barely a year after the surrender at Appomattox Courthouse. She accepted being turned rather than continue to suffer, but her sweetheart refused.”

“That’s sad.” Max frowns slightly, not even able to imagine the loss of her lover. “Was he her soulmate? Or first love?”

“Renee’s soulmate was her sister.” Pausing at the appearance of the night’s second tea tray, Annie thanks the steward who brings it in and waits for them to leave before continuing. “He was her first love. But her family didn’t approve. She left home to be with him and still lost him, poor thing.”

“Her sister?” Max tilts his head curiously, knowing about platonic soulmates but he’s never heard of siblings who are soulmates. “Twins?”

“Indeed.” Annie nods, moving to pour tea out for everyone but you beat her to it. “It seems there was some sort of rivalry between her family and his, and except for her sister, they couldn’t see to forgive her for choosing him. They still exchange letters, but the post takes time.”

“Did her twin also become a vampire?” His eyes cut over to Emmanuel but the other man just looks up from his cards curiously. The subject of the undead obviously not phasing him at all.

“Martha wasn’t hit with the same fever that took Johnson and almost took Renee. She’s still back in West Virginia with their family.” Annie stops long enough to thank you for her cup, and fixes Emmanuel’s for him at the table. “They’re God-fearing people, Max. Renee still hasn’t told her sister how she survived the fever. She’s afraid Martha will cut her out, too.”

“No doubt, it would be better if a visit didn’t occur.” Max snorts, still bitter at the lack of relationship with his own parents.

“They would likely notice that she has not aged in twenty years.” This time Annie shakes her head, sipping her own tea to steady herself. “I am sure you know, but most vampires are forced to cut ties with their mortal families at one point or another.”

“Lucky for me, I cut ties before then.” Max huffs with a sardonic grin.

“And know you have a whole other family.” It’s very clear that Emmanuel sees only the silver lining as he sits back and smiles. “And it grows beautifully. Your sire, his family, and now your wife.”

“My wife is worth everything.” Max isn’t just playing to his audience, he means it. Taking your hand that isn’t wrapped around your card and kissing it softly.

While the ring is burning a hole in Emmanuel’s pocket, this is not the right time. He has already planned out when and where to ask Annie to be his bride, and a train car is not at all grand enough for such an important question. “You are very lucky to have found each other,” he observes instead. “To find one’s soulmate is a genuine blessing.”

“Yes.” Max winks at you and then glances at where Annie is fidgeting slightly, looking worried and eager all at the same time. “What about you, Mannie?” He asks, leaning back. “What kind of marks have you made to lead your soulmate to you?”

“Wherever she is, she has remained a mystery to me.” Which is a terrible disappointment, if he’s honest. He had always dreamed of something dramatic and romantic like seeing a shared mark on a lady’s arm at a ball. Since meeting Annie Brown, though, he has been glad that that never happened. The love he feels for her is far too deep to deny. “I have no marks from my soulmate. Only somewhere in the world, she wears the scar on her leg from when I fell off my horse as a boy.”

Max can feel the way Annie’s heart nearly leaps in her chest and your own hand squeezes his tightly. “Interesting. Which leg? I have to say that I am unfortunate enough that I don’t have scars either. Different circumstances, of course.”

“Of course.” Emmanuel chuckles lightly, not thinking anything of it. “It is my left leg. A rather unsightly mark, too. I ought to apologize to the lady for bestowing it on her if I ever were to meet her.” There is a deeply felt — a dearest hope — in his heart that it could be Annie. But he has been too afraid to ask and be disappointed.

She inhales sharply, eyes wide and hopeful and her cards are all but abandoned in her hand. “I am sure it’s not too bad.” She volunteers. “Just a mark slightly larger than the palm of my hand?”

“With a…” He swallows thickly, and suddenly Emmanuel cannot look away from the woman beside him for anything in the world. “A curve on one end…like the top of a cane…how could you…?”

Nodding almost frantically, Annie leans in and drops the cards to grab her beau’s hand. “Please tell me that this is the mark you are describing?” She begs. “Please tell me you are my soulmate.”

“It cannot be.” He has never thought that he could be this lucky. That the woman he had fallen in love with so quickly has found it in her heart to love him back is one thing. For her to truly be the other half of his soul is something truly remarkable. “Are we really to be twice blessed?” He clutches her hands tightly, knowing that to ask to see her bare leg is entirely out of the question but knowing that she recognizes his mark means the world.

Max smirks and looks over at you as you watch your mother look like the sun is shining just for her. “Should be in one of those romance books, hmmm?”

“We should give them some space.” If you don’t, there’s a chance that you might not be able to contain yourself, and that you might give something away by shedding tears instead of being happy for Annie. Watching your mother discover her soulmate is a gut punch that you hadn’t quite expected.

“Come.” Max senses how emotional you are and stands. “Shall we see our sleeping berth?”

You nod, trying your best to keep yourself composed while he helps you up and leads you to the two single-side beds on the far end of the car. Pullman cars aren’t equipped with doubles for married couples, but you’ll barely be a foot apart.

“Interesting sleeping arrangements.” Max ticks a brow up before he turns to you. “Are you alright, Queenie?” He asks, rubbing your arms gently. He knows this is a shock for you.

“I didn’t expect to be here for the reveal,” you admit, tucking into his side and letting yourself drop down onto one of the mattresses indiscriminately. “I’m okay. It’s a lot, though.”

“It’s okay to like Emmanuel.” He reminds you softly, dropping down beside you. “I hate that I would have loved to have him for the dreaded F. I. L.”

“He’s such a nice man.” A few tears break free as you bury your face in Max’s side. “And he makes her so happy.”

“And your father made her happy for the rest of her life.” Max wraps his arms around you and lets you cry. There’s no reason to chide you for it, considering that he feels emotional about it all too.

“I just wish there was a way for her to have it all,” you admit quietly. “Her soulmate, her second love, and her family. Everything that made her happy.”

“She gets to have you again.” Max comforts you softly. “Even if she doesn’t know that she should, she loves you. Just as you are.”

“I’m glad she doesn’t know everything that’s happened.” Knowing that Max will understand why, the best thing to do right now is just to stifle your tears with a handkerchief and try to recompose yourself. “And I’m glad that abuela doesn’t either.”

“I hate that we can’t tell them.” Max admits softly. “Let them change it.”

“I wouldn’t ever be born.” That is enough of a deterrent to keep you in line, but it still hurts your heart. “Or if I would be, I would be a different version of myself.”

“I love you, just as you are,” Max promises softly. “But if you could have not had the heartbreak, it would have been better for you.”

“It would have been better for you, too, love.” If you could have spared Max from suffering in any way you would have, but you squeeze his hands tightly and place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “But I love you, too. Just as you are.”

The skipping beat of his heart is fleeting and he turns his head to kiss you again, addicted to the sensation. “Too bad kissing other places doesn’t have the same effect.” He murmurs with a teasing grin.

"I was kind of hoping it would," you admit, cheeks immediately burning hot with the reminder of this morning. "It certainly makes my heart beat faster, though."

“I know.” Max leers and his tongue swipes over his lips in satisfaction. “I felt it. Every stuttering, skipping pulse as it throbbed through your sweet little pussy.”

"Max!" You may be on the other side of the train car, but there is still a chance that Annie and Emmanuel might hear him if they ever come up from the way their heads are bowed at the card table.

“What?” He huffs, grinning broadly at your embarrassment. “We’re married.”

"Yeah..." Huffing right back at him, you glance over at the other couple seriously. "And my virgin mother is in the same room," you remind him as quietly as possible.

“She might not be by the time this train goes home.” Max reminds you. “Not the way those two smell right now.”

"Oh gods, I did not need to know that." You poke his side and all but shudder. "I know it's a hundred years too early but she's still...her."

“Mommy had to have some sex.” He teases softly. “She had you. And she’s really old to have been a hundred-year-old virgin.”

“It’s just not something I’ve ever thought about.” There was no need for you to. Not up to age eighteen. And then your parents became frozen in time in your mind’s eye. “You’re right, it’s just never something I’ve spent time on.”

“One day, our kids will have the same revelation.” Max hums. “Unless we are just freely sexual around them and they groan and roll their eyes, talking about horrible their parents are.”

“I know what Yayo said, but I’m trying not to get too excited about the idea of kids,” you admit, eyes dropping from his to your hands in his lap. “Just in case.”

“I know.” Max’s grin drops into a more serious expression and he covers your warm hands with a cool one. “If we don’t, we don’t. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll adopt a little shit and spoil them rotten if you want.”

“You’ve never mentioned having any vampiric children.” And you’ve never asked, so it’s not entirely on him. “I take it I’m not a stepmother?”

“I’ve—”Max frowns and blows out a useless sigh. “All but one was destroyed when— when I was.” He admits quietly. “But I don’t look at them like kids. Or I didn’t.” He snorts. “He’s in California for some fucking reason.”

“You have a son?” He may not look at his vampiric offspring as a child but you certainly do, and your eyes widen immediately. “I don’t even know where to start. I—tell me everything.”

“Okay….” He snorts and shakes his head. “It’s not a very long story, but I’ll tell you.”

“Short stories can still be interesting,” you remind him, finding yourself aghast that he just hadn’t mentioned it.

He shuffles slightly, embarrassed by his past behavior. “The guy who ruined my life? I got a job for the company he worked for.”

“Right.” Trying to conjure up every detail of information he has given you about that situation, you nod along with his explanation. “The telesales company.”

“Yep. I sold myself to management, using the vampirism as a business model. Convinced them sales would increase if they had a workforce of the undead. The company was going under and they were desperate for any Hail Mary.”

“So you…sired people at the office?” It seems more than slightly outrageous, but companies have surely done crazier things out of desperation.

“Yeah.” He huffs quietly. “I wanted to prove there was a better way, better reason to be a vampire.” He huffs. “And get revenge on that little annoying fucker.”

“So one of them is still alive?” The term makes you cringe, though, and you slump apologetically. “So to speak.”

“One, yeah.” He frowns slightly, bothered by all the people destroyed because of his selfishness more than he realizes. Maybe that was why he never truly fought against his punishment as he thought of his confinement to the Newport house. He felt as if he deserved much worse. Realizing now that you were all your grandfather had actually cared about.

“Hey.” One hand flat on his chest brings his attention back to you and you tilt your head at him quizzically. “What just happened in there?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Max snaps back to you and bites his lip.

“You disappeared into your own head.” Unconsciously mirroring him, you bite your lip too. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I already pried.”

“No.” The best way to make Max open up is for you to blame yourself for something, even something small. “I just— I realized how many people died because of me.” He admits, wondering if that would change how you feel about him.

“You’re literally a different person than you were then.” You remind him gently. “And you’re living a completely different…afterlife.”

“Still…..” max closes his eyes. “It was seventy-three people.”

“Which is why you drink from donors now and make business deals in ink instead.” It isn’t much comfort, but at least you can show Max that he’s changed. He’s become a better man since his afterlife got upended. “Speaking of which…” You take his hand in yours and squeeze gently. “You haven’t had any blood since we got here.”

“I know.” Max doesn’t want to admit that he’s starting to feel thirsty. “I’m alright.”

“You won’t be in another day or two.” And since the middle of that hunger and thirst will come during a trip away from the steady donor so helpfully supplied by your grandfather — under circumstances you absolutely don’t want to know about — you squeeze his hand again. “But I’m not going to let you go thirsty. I promise.”

Max shakes his head. “No, I’ll— I don’t want you to do something you aren’t comfortable with.” You had shown you were squeamish about it and Max has not brought it up again. You had flinched once when he was going down on you and that was enough to cross it off the list of things he would do with you.

“I’m more comfortable with you drinking from me than I am with the thought of you sharing something so intimate with a complete stranger,” you admit. “You said yourself how deeply the connection can be felt.”

“You flinched.” He reminds you softly, telling himself it’s ridiculous to be hurt by that when it’s a normal reaction to fangs.

“Because I was afraid it might hurt.” The sheepishness — the embarrassment — in your quiet confession is very clear, and your eyes drop down to your hands again because your fear hurt him and you don’t deserve to look him in the eyes. “Not because I don’t want to take care of you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you think you should.” Max sighs. “I don’t want you to ever do something you don’t want with me. If you’re afraid it will hurt, I won’t do it.”

“Max…” You hadn’t expected him to protest, honestly thinking he would been overjoyed at the offer. It just goes to show that you’re not quite as adjusted to this relationship as you thought you were. You had expected him to just take without any thought, but that isn’t Max. Or, at least, that isn’t Max anymore. “Will you at least consider it?”

“If you want me to.” He doubts he would, but your brow is knitted with worry and he hates that.

“I want you to. To consider it and to do it. But not until you’re ready.” And part of That sense to be showing him that you aren’t afraid anymore, so you will do everything you can.

“I love you, Dolly.” Max whispers, offering you his hand. “I just don’t want to fuck up and hurt you.”

“I’d rather have a little bit of hurt from a bite than be hurt because I’ve lost you,” you tell him honestly. Him not feeding is not an option, just like it’s not an option for you not to eat, either.

“You aren’t going to lose me.” Max promises. “If I had to eat someone, I would, just to stay with you.”

"You don't have to, though." Looking back up at him, your gaze is surprisingly steady. "And I can stay with you forever, too."

“Mrs. Phillips, are you proposing to me?” He’s grinning, but he sounds scandalized. “How terribly modern of you.”

“I suppose I am, in a way.” It wasn’t what you had meant to do — not strictly speaking — but at the heart of it is the same conversation. That you want to be with him. Just him. For as long as you possibly can.

“Makes sense.” Max tells you. “Since we are married.” He looks at you softly and reaches into his pocket. “You want to be with me? Forever?”

“I really do.” The certainty is extraordinary. Something you never truly thought would ever happen. It here you are, with his hand in yours, and you know in your heart that you will do anything in your power to stay with him.

Max decides that it might not be the most glamorous thing, but he slides off the bed and kneels down in front of you. “Dolly, Queenie, my soulmate…” He starts, his cockiness fading and there’s a naked, earnest expression in his eyes. “I never thought I would be able to have you. You are perfect, better than I ever dreamed and I am not even worthy of you, but for some reason, you want me.” He takes a small, leather box out of his pocket. “Will you roam the earth with me and experience eternity together?”

“Oh gods…” If someone had asked you the least likely things to happen to you in the entire world, this would have been on the list. Your soulmate, a happy relationship, engagement and marriage — all of these things. They were put on a shelf out a reach and you didn’t ever think your arm would stretch that far for the rest of your life. But here in this train car it’s Max that you reach for, tearing up and giggling softly and feeling your whole self light up brightly with “Yes!”

It’s pure relief that has Max grinning, thankful and happy that someone finally put him first. Someone, the most important someone, believed him — believed in him. “I want— here.” The normal suaveness completely leaves your soulmate and he opens the ring box nervously. Hoping you like your ring.

“Get up here,” you insist, pulling him up to sit next to you on the bed so you can kiss him before anything else happens. The little leather box holds a sparkling diamond set in gold and that is wonderful, but what you want more than ever is to hold onto this feeling of sweet, deep, honest love that’s pounding in your chest.

Like all the kisses before, Max feels his heart move and he knows that is because you love him, not because of the soulmate connection. He cups your face tenderly as he pours himself into the kiss, not putting on a facade for you, just being greedy for your affection.

In this moment it’s all you can do to be mildly cognizant of the fact that your mother is in the room, and even if she doesn’t know she’s your mother it’s still another two people who probably just heard you squeal at Max’s arms wrapping right around you. Thankfully the soft moan he drew out of you just seconds later was soft. Only for his ears.

You’re his. The realization makes his heart thump even more with your lips against his and he groans into your mouth. The scent of you utterly intoxicating and he will be able to have it forever.

It’s so easy to get caught up in him. Caught up in the way that you can always tell when he’s being playful, or teasing, or his most honest self with you just from the way he kisses you. His armor has been tossed by the wayside and all that is left for you to see is his whole heart — which is a privilege you never intend to squander. It’s only the sound of a throat clearing that brings you out of the moment, as Emmanuel glances across the train car with reddened cheeks.

“Oh.” Max is almost disappointed by the interruption, but he grins over at the other man. “I apologize. It’s wonderful kissing your soulmate, isn’t it?” He asks knowingly.

“Wonderful.” Emmanuel agrees immediately, knowing that you and Max are aware that he and Annie have shared more than dances. “We ought to celebrate.”

“Yes we should!” Max immediately agrees, popping up and reaching over and shaking the man’s hand. “How about I make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had?” He knows the bar cart would have chocolate for the ladies and it will let everyone have something special without popping a bottle of champagne.

“Trust me. Say yes.” You assure them both when Annie looks to you curiously. You had mentioned this quirk of your husband’s before and it had intrigued her.

“Yes.” Annie agrees with authority, laughing all the while. She feels positively light as air and doesn’t want to waste a single moment of this joy.

“I’ll be back in a flash.” Max winks and shoots past all of you fast enough to make yours and Annie’s skirts sway.

“Forgive me.” You smooth your hands over her skirt before getting up and coming back over to the card table. “I seem to have gotten carried away.”

“You are married.” Annie scoffs, waving away your apologies. “I hope that I do not have a dull marriage. I want my husband, my soulmate, to wish to kiss me every chance he gets.” The eyes she makes at Emmanuel are not subtle.

“And I am sure he will. After you are married.” It’s obviously not something you care about — Twenty-first century dating being far different from nineteenth century courting — but you have to pretend. To act like a lady of this time and place. “If your parents found out that you anticipated your vows when I was supposed to be here to stop you, they would never trust us all out together again.”

Annie snorts and rolls her eyes. “I very seriously doubt my parents will mind. You are here to be a show of propriety, as well as dear friends.”

"My only thought is to make sure you are taken care of." Her hand finds yours as you reach across the table, and for a moment you just smile at each other. Just a small moment of sharing in each other's happiness means so much, and you end up shrugging as if you are dramatically giving in. When in fact you have no intention of intruding on whatever historically happened between your mother and her soulmate the first time around. "I'm glad that you're happy. Both of you."

“Thank you.” Annie tugs you close and pulls you in for a tight hug. “You have been such a dear friend so quickly. It feels as though we have always known each other.”

"Like family," you hum, holding yourself to just a smile and making sure your perceptive mother can't see past the necessary lies that have been told.

“Exactly like family.” She beams, happy you seem as like minded as she. “Perhaps we will be one day.” She muses. “Our children could marry.”

"Anything is possible." Is the enigmatic answer you go with, knowing full well that that particular scenario is not in the cards. But that's no reason to ruin your mother's joy. "Sometimes family can be the people you choose, too. Not only marriage and blood."

“Yes….blood.” Annie sighs slightly and then looks towards the soulmate she had just discovered. “My parents will be thrilled, absolutely thrilled.”

"Don't let anything steal your joy right now," you squeeze her fingers again before sitting back, hearing the sounds of someone walking toward the car and hoping that it's Max. "Not anything at all."

“Who is ready for the richest hot chocolate they have ever tasted?” Max asks as the door opens and a large tray is filled with a set of cups.

"I'm intrigued," Emmanuel laughs, watching your very proud soulmate come back inside with his tray. "Where did you learn such a particular skill?"

How does he explain baristas? Max grins. “My nanny taught me.” He decides. “She would make the most marvelous hot chocolate and I always wanted it, so she insisted I learn.”

“How marvelous.” Annie perks up enthusiastically and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the thick, creamy drink. “Oh, it smells divine!” It is an indulgence to be sure, but that is only because of her own mother’s sensibilities. Chocolate is a treat, not to be overindulged in.

Smiling, Max looks like the pet student who is being recognized for their efforts. The fact that he is a praise seeker isn’t new, but this time, having the approval of your mother is rewarding. Even if she doesn’t know about the familial connection.

You already know it’s going to be amazing, but watching your mother and Emmanuel take their first sips and then light up like kids in a literal candy store is amazing. “Your nanny must have been a witch,” Annie declares, sighing openly at the divine taste. “Because this is obviously magic of the most wonderful sort.”

“She must have been.” Max winks at you and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “My wife married me for the recipe, but I have not given it to her yet.” He jokes. “She might run away.”

“Even if I had the recipe, I don’t think I could make it as well as you.” Your first sip comes with a hum on contentment. The chocolate in this time has less sugar, making it taste deeper and richer than when he would make it at home. “Part of the recipe must be love.”

“You know it is.” He hums indulgently and bats his eyes at you playfully. “Only the best for my love.”

The extremely unladylike snort from you causes laughter all around the table. This atmosphere of playfulness so far has been pervasive, like a wonderful warm hug. Right now you want nothing more than for that to last. To last for however long it is that you’ll be stuck in the past — because as much fun as you’re having? You do have to go home.

******

Even though there are two beds provided for you and Max, as any upper class Gilded Age couple would expect, there is only a curtain to give you privacy for the night. So when you crawl into the same bed together in your chemise and Max’s silk pajamas — apparently brand new and all the rage in America — you almost feel scandalous about it. Maybe that’s coming from the fact that you’re all but certain Annie and Emmanuel have crawled in together on the other side of the car, but you’re telling yourself that that’s none of your business. For now, all your focus belongs to Max…and the glittering ring on your finger as it catches the moonlight coming in the open window.

“Do you like it?” He whispers softly. He had worried because modern rings are larger, more simplistic, but he had hoped you would like the elaborate filigree and design on the ring.

“It’s gorgeous.” Tucking yourself closer in his arms, you tip your head back to kiss him. “I love it. How did you even manage to go find one?”

“Your grandfather took me to his jeweler.” He hums, proud of the fact that you like it.

“Conspiring with my Yayo, I’m very impressed.” It doesn’t actually surprise you at all, but you’re glad that they’re getting along in this time as well as in your own. Max’s own family predicament makes you so grateful that your grandparents have welcomed him with open arms. “It’s perfect, baby. I—thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” His body slots against yours perfectly and he pulls you closer. “I know that we aren’t actually….you know.” He lowers his voice so only you can hear. “But I wanted you to have a piece of this time when we go back.”

“Can you imagine?” A little giggle escapes you and you muffle it against his chest. “If I actually manage to get us home again and we just roll up into the house legally married for 138 years?”

He snorts, grinning into the darkness as he ignores the sounds coming from the next bed. It’s too quiet for you to hear, so he pretends he doesn’t either. “Not like we wouldn’t be married for 138 more after we get back.”

“And maybe more.” Who knows what will happen? You’re certainly not going to claim to be an expert on how the world works. Not after discovering that time travel is real.

“Maybe more.” Max nuzzles his nose against your cheek and smiles. “Are you having a good time with your mother, Dolly?”

“I am. I know it’s not the same but it’s so nice to just see her face and hear her voice again.” And if you could do the same for Max, you would do it in a heartbeat.

“I know, Dolly.” Max sighs sadly. “I wish I could have met your version of her.”

“She’s still her. Just less…Mom.” That doesn’t make any sense but you can’t articulate it any better so you shrug. “Though I guess I understand now why she always talked about going to the opera when she was little. That’s what people do in this time.”

“And you are going to get to experience that with her. In this time.” He reminds you, having already been informed that tickets will be waiting.

“If you get bored then just slip out of the box and go smoke cigars with Vanderbilt or something.” For all you know Max hates the opera. It hadn’t exactly been a point of debate when the Vanderbilts had announced their intention to takes you along to the brand new Metropolitan Opera House with them. “I won’t be offended, I swear.”

“No, I doubt I would be bored.” Max shakes his head. “It will be a fine study if the aristocracy in New York.”

“This is like the weirdest vacation in the world.” You snort at yourself slightly. At the odd memory that just popped into your head. “It’s Where in Time is Carmen Sandiago? the real game.”

“Now starring…Dolly.” He intones dramatically, like he’s an announcer. He grins in the darkness when you giggle.

“That will be your career if I can’t get us back,” you tease, light and laughing softly in the night instead of scared or worried. Somehow he makes you so sure that things will work out that you are able to breathe freely in moments like these. “A vaudeville announcer. And then we’ll get you into radio afterward.”

Max snorts softly. “Wouldn’t that be a hell of a note? Live a life back in time and reappear in our own timeline like nothing ever happened?”

“It’s all going to depend on how long it takes me to learn how to get us home,” you remind him gently. The fact is, this could be a very real problem to have, but at the moment it doesn’t seem like the worst sort of very real problem.

“Doesn’t matter how long it takes, my love.” He whispers, rubbing your back soothingly. “We have eternity and as long as I have you, I can live wherever, or whenever, we are.”

______

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simpxxstan · 8 months

Text

perfect complements (ch. 3)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, slight smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

series word count (till current chapter): 7.3k

chapter word count: 2.7k

rating: 13+ (for this chapter)

warnings: bickering, alcohol mention (very slight), plot dumps hehe.

a/n: so we're on our way! the plot is getting deeper, so i hope you stay for the ride! and my fav minghao is finally here <3 and i think, just like this time, i'll be updating every weekend. thank you, again, for reading!

taglist for the fic: @minhui896

series masterlist

And that’s how you find yourself walking up the stairs to Seungcheol’s apartment, begrudgingly because all you can feel right now is the sting of the February wind on your body. You know the apartment very well, you’ve been here before. Seungcheol hosted last New Year’s party.

The door is slightly ajar, as if waiting for you. It yields to a slight push, and you can hear mellow music flowing from within. As the door opens up, you can see Seungcheol’s broad frame sitting on the kitchen counter, a sheet of paper in his hand. He notices you almost immediately, as the squeak of the door gives way. “You’re here.”

There’s something about seeing him in casual clothing that never fails to take your breath away. You can count on your fingers the number of times you’ve seen Seungcheol dressed casually- usually an extremely oversized hoodie and sweatpants. But today is slightly different: the sweatpants are still there, but he’s wearing a jacket zipped up halfway, with a black shirt inside, fitting right onto his wide chest. His glasses are, as usual, perched on his nose, and he's looking through them, straight into your eyes.

“And you’re cold,” he continues, before slipping right off the counter and walking towards you. “I underestimated the February winds, and the time it’d take me to walk to your house.” “You walked?” “I am climate conscious, as an economist firmly believing in sustainable development, unlike you, Mr. Let-me-show-you-my-shiny-new-car.” You have your arms against your chest, in a desperate attempt to control the cold waves wracking your body, and he seems to notice it.

“Well, lucky for you, my apartment is heated. And-” he smoothly unzips his jacket and hands it over to you. It’s instinct, you take a step back from his hand offering the jacket. “No, I’m alright. Your apartment is really warm.” “Y/N. I don’t want my favourite professor to fall ill after they visit my apartment. Imagine what my reputation would be. Imagine what Wonwoo would think.” You shiver at the thought, it’s manipulative as fuck, but it’s a very real possibility. You almost want to reject the jacket even further so that Wonwoo can actually get a reason to fire him now- but no, you’re not that low. The evil tangent of your mind coils back before you let it run too far.

You slowly take the jacket from his hand, and slip it around you.

It’s crazy. Seungcheol is suddenly all over you. So this is what it’s like to be hugged by him. You’re again trying to reel in your thoughts, when he interrupts. “Let’s get to it now, shall we?” He walks over to the counter, lifts the sheet of paper, and the colour pencils. “I watched videos on youtube on-”

You burst out laughing, the cold long forgotten, now totally comfortable wrapped with the jacket. “You watched colouring videos on youtube?” He’s a little shocked at your laughter, “Yeah, I mean I-” “Oh you’re so silly. Where do we sit?” “I don’t know, wherever you like.”

You look around his apartment, and you shake your head disapprovingly. The appeal of studio apartments never stood out to you, especially one which is a classic bachelor pad. It’s completely open layout, will be a mess when he finally marries, but you guess it’s economical for a man living alone. There’s no dining space- just the kitchen counter. There’s a small excuse of a coffee table in front of the sofa, but there’s no place to sit around it even on the floor. There’s a huge television, speakers and a few ornamental cabinets. And then, there’s obviously, the bed. It’s the biggest bed you’ve ever seen, and quite remarkable. It’s the most distinct feature of his apartment, and you shudder at the thought of why Choi Seungcheol had to invest in buying such a big, beautiful bed and not even in buying a big enough console table to make the living space look gainly. God knows how many women he brings around.

“The counter looks best. Good lights.” “Coffee or wine? Or whisky? If you’re still cold-” “Wine is fine, thank you.” You gently sit at the stool in front of the counter, and he settles down on a stool next to you, two glasses of red wine in his hands. “Thanks.”

You sip the wine, letting it calm your nerves, while watching Seungcheol fiddle with the colours. He divides them into half, and hands you one set. “You colour everywhere with these colours, and I colour with mine.” “No! That’s now how it works. It’ll ruin the coordination, Seungcheol!” Your voice is drawling, the same way you explain to your neighbour’s five year old daughter when you babysit her sometimes. The way Choi Seungcheol is looking at you, his brown eyes wide, his bangs gently falling below his brows, you don’t see the differences.

“We have to coordinate and colour together. Then the picture will look good! Here. I’ll start with the river. You can start with the trees. All greens, yellows, maybe brown,you know?” He nods, picking up the greens and eyeing them curiously. “It’s been years since I used these.” “They’re just like pencils,” and you swivel around, trying to shift a little to let Seungcheol get more access to the paper, and you end up hitting his knee. Thankfully, he ignores it, as he gets to work, his lips being bitten constantly as he focuses with immense dedication. You almost want to pat his hair.

Hours have passed, the glass of wine is long finished, but the picture is just two-thirds through. Your arms and legs are hurting from sitting in this position, so you step down the stool to stretch your limbs. He’s still colouring, and you’re actually shocked. This is the longest in the last two years that the two of you have spent without even any minute teasing or bickering. It’s a comfortable silence you can enjoy with a few people only, and you’re surprised that Seungcheol is one of them. “If you’re done staring, come and complete this bit of the sky.” His words cut through the soft moment when you were at peace, so you’re quick to quip back. “Your apartment is so boring. There’s nowhere more comfortable to sit.” He now looks up, finally, his fingers rotating the pencil in his hand. “There’s always the bed,” you don’t miss the smirk. “And what makes you think I’d want to sit in your bed? As dirty as it must be.” “To fuel my fantasies, if not for anything else.”

There’s an instant rush of blood to your brain, and yet it short-circuits. He steps off the stool, casually. You’re a little confused but then you realise his feet were already touching the ground, so it’s easier for him. “More wine?” he asks, and you shake your head. “No, thank you. I’ll just finish the sky bit and leave.” The watch on your wrist shows it’s already ten at night. “Stay for dinner.” You scoff, “Jeez Seungcheol. Laying the bribe on heavy?” “I don’t need to bribe you, Professor. You know you like the food I make.” You bite your tongue. It’s true- you’ll never admit it though. He’s an excellent cook, you know this because he often brings lunch for y’all at University. You wonder how it’s possible for someone with so much ego to even cook well.

“I’ve made mac and cheese, the best way to warm you for the February night. It’ll work wonders for you, just like my jacket.”

You gasp, quite audibly, and he chuckles. Instantly, you take the jacket off and throw it on the sofa. “I’m sorry for wearing it-” “Hey, you were shivering. I only saved a life. Say thank you Doctor Choi!” he lulls, stepping closer to you. He picks up the jacket from the sofa, and wears it. You turn away from him, walking to the counter, so you miss the small action of him sniffing the jacket.

You pick up the lightest blue to colour the clouds. He doesn’t step close to you, rather staying at his spot, choosing to watch you. Your strokes are suddenly imprecise: not because he’s staring at you, but because you’re in a rush to finish this and get home before it’s too late.

“This may actually be working, you know.” He says finally, once you’re done with the biggest cloud.

“What?” You ask, downing the last sip of wine, and looking up at him sideways.

“Therapy. I think I already like you more, now that you’re sitting like a kid on my kitchen counter, finishing colouring homework.”

You lick your lips. You would have actually agreed with him, that this session had been a good one, but no. Choi Seungcheol always knew how to spoil it. Just when you were about to reply, his phone rang, and he walked away to answer the call. But you could still hear him say Oppa is busy tonight, sorry Hyerin-ah. Oppa. Jesus, the audacity to call himself Oppa. Oppa will meet you on Sunday? Again, darn it. And he was speaking with an even deeper tone now that he was speaking softly. Was this his seduction voice? Not that you cared-

The pencil from your hand dropped to the floor. You looked up, alarmed. He looked up, alarmed. Aah, no that’s just someone I have over. She dropped something so- no! What? She’s just a colleague from university. Hyerin, don’t tell Eomma about this, hmm? Okay, see you on Sunday!

“You’re hiding me from your Eomma?” You’ve finished colouring the remaining bits, and the picture looks… decent. It has some kind of harmony going throughout- and although you can point out some places when Seungcheol’s brush marks don’t cover the white background well enough, you’re happy to let it pass.

“I’m hiding every woman on this planet from my Eomma. She’s decided to hitch me a wife before I turn thirty-three, and she doesn’t care who they are as long as they are single.” You chuckle, he joins you. It’s weird to think Seungcheol is that scared of his mom. But then, he probably is a mama's boy spoiled to the worst degree- no wonder he is scared of his mom.

“I’m not single. So you don’t have to hide me from your mom.” You say, in between your laughter. He stops laughing slowly, making his way towards you.

You pick up your bag and extend your arm, not expecting him to shake it. But he does, and it makes you shiver harder. “Goodnight, Choi Seungcheol. This was not-the-best-but-not-the-worst way to spend a weekday evening. I’ll see you in Uni tomorrow.” He doesn’t let go of your hand, reminding you only how much you’re going to miss the warmth of his h- apartment, once you leave. “Goodnight, Prof. Y/N. Go home safe.”

And you leave without turning and seeing the smallest of smiles creeping up his face as he stands at the door.

“Aigoo! Our kids are here!”

It must be a coincidence that you and Seungcheol arrive at the same time, greeted by the warm smiles of Minghao and Minhee sitting together, most likely the latter filling up the former on whatever gossip he missed out on these last few days he was away.

“Minghao, you’re back! Uni was unbearable without you!” You engulf him in a warm hug, his chuckles rumbling through your embrace. “What can I say? I had to come back when I heard the news.” You step back, a hand still on Minghao’s arm. “What news?” “That our kids have started taking colouring classes?”

As if on dramatic cue, both you and Seungcheol groan, leaving Minhee and Minghao to burst out laughing.

“Wonwoo really can’t keep anything to himself, can he?”

“Show us the picture!” Minhee whines, and Seungcheol reluctantly takes it out from his bag, keeping it on Minghao’s desk. The two maknaes start cooing at the picture again, floating out praises on how well their “kids” had done while colouring.

“Minghao, man, how was the trip?” Seungcheol asks when the cooing finally stops.

“Same old. No new faces. Except one, but they weren’t interesting at all. An addition that has truly only worsened the pool. We so need fresh ideas and talent. All this math isn’t taking us anywhere at all!”

“Math is the only truth, Minghao.”

“No, there is no truth, Seungcheol. It’s all versions of ideas framed by man. There are phenomena, and then there are explanations. Math is just one of those explanations.”

“I beg to-”

“No, I agree with Minghao on this one,” surprisingly Minhee pipes in. “Just like how Y/N and Hyunsik are dating for four years but there’s absolutely no truth about why she’s still with him. There can only be explanations of it, but no one knows the truth.”

First, there’s a dead silence in the staffroom. You can do nothing but stare at Minhee, who stares right back at you.

“Isn’t your fourth year anniversary coming up? Next month, if I’m not wrong? Is he planning to come and see you, at least?”

You’re suddenly out of breath, our of words, and out of thoughts. The first emotion you feel is fear, and then panic, and finally embarrassment. Even if you’re looking at Minhee, the only eyes you can feel right now are those of Seungcheol, sitting right opposite to you.

“Minhee, what are you saying?” Minghao intervenes, always the peacemaker.

“No, I want to know-”

“Minhee-ah. Noona’s personal life isn’t up for debate here.”

“I know Hao. I just feel that Unnie should have the guts to accept things and not hide her face like a ostrich.”

“Now is not the time to discuss that.”

“Yes! See! That’s why it never gets discussed!”

Your face is turning redder by the minute, but you’re still too shocked to say anything. It’s been months since anyone has asked about your relationship, Minhee has always been nosy, but never before has she called you out so publicly.

Except it’s not even calling you out, you realise. It’s a stupid accusation.

“What Noona and Hyunsik Hyung are going to do for their fourth-year anniversary is really not your business, Minhee. I know we’re best friends but-”

You stand up, and place a hand on Minghao’s shoulder. “No, she’s right. He’s probably not going to come home. But that doesn’t imply any of the connotations you’re trying to draw from it, Minhee. If you’re so desperate for gossip, you should spend more time at the female hostel. I’m sure the kids will have plenty to tell you.”

Minhee looks like she wants to say something, but Seungcheol speaks up.

“Okay Minhee, I think that’s enough. Don’t make her uncomfortable, please.” He stands up, looking right into your eye, and you look back. “I’m not-” “Y/N, please. No one is judging you. Minhee, please take a breath of fresh air from outside and come back in. Cool down, for god’s sake,” and Minhee has no option but to comply (although with a loud huff). Everyone complies when Seungcheol uses that voice.

But you hate it. You think you can double over and die, crumble rather than receive Choi Seungcheol’s pity, protection and pretence of care. Minghao wraps an arm around your shoulder, but you shirk away. You’re stronger than this. They can’t just lash out at your insecurities and break you down. No, Seungcheol shouldn’t know-

“Noona.” Minghao speaks again, and you snap out of your spiral. You realise it’s just the two of you in the room now, no Seungcheol. You’re sighing out of relief.

“Do you want some coffee?”

He’s holding your hand, and you can see the smallest finger on your left hand shaking even in his grip.

“Yes, please. Can’t go to class like this.”

“Don’t mind Minhee. She’s- volatile.”

“I know. It’s not her I mind-”

“I know. But don’t mind him either. He’ll never judge you, you know that right?”

“Minghao, you’re so-”

“No, I’ve been seeing him around you for two years now. And I’m not wrong. He’ll never judge you. Or hurt you. Just like neither will I. Nor Minhee. Nor Wonwoo.”

You sigh again. Your temples are throbbing, and you know it’s going to get worse through the day. You also have a session with Dr. Lee today, surprisingly a solo one. God, it’ll be a long one.

“I know. Now can we please get coffee? And tell me more about your conference. I need some distractions.”

Minghao smiles and hugs you gently, before standing up and walking out of the staffroom, you following right behind him.

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