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mercy-burning · 3 years

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High Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer calls Reader to see if he can come over, but she’s already having her own fun and suggests something... out of the box. Category: Smut 18+ (oral- male receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, sex while high) Warnings: Smoking (marijuana), language, smut. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.1k

***

The prospect of seeing Spencer Reid again was something that always excited Y/N. They'd only been seeing each other for about two months, but she never really knew when she would get to see him because of his job, and that made their relationship all the more interesting. Though, she wasn't really sure if she could call it a relationship, considering they had only went on one date. And even then, it was barely considered a date because they ended up leaving the movie twenty minutes in and spent the rest of the night having sex in her car.

Recalling that night to herself, Y/N smiled and wondered about all the other things they could do together.

She daydreamed for a few more minutes, and in no time her legs had started to shift together, craving any form of friction. And since her partner wasn't there to help, Y/N figured she'd find it elsewhere.

After shuffling to her bedroom, she stripped herself of all her clothes except for a pair of thin scarlet panties and put on a hotel bathrobe she'd stolen, not bothering to tie it closed. Then she opted to reach towards something she didn't normally use, but had on hand in case the need ever presented itself.

In a small box under her nightstand was a lighter accompanied by some joints she'd gotten from a friend a few weeks ago. The only time she ever really smoked was when she was with said friend, but it wasn't something she was ever opposed to partaking in. It just rarely ever crossed her mind.

Minutes later and Y/N was on the couch again, windows shut, lights off, a few candles lit in an attempt to offset the strong scent, and her earbuds in. There was a glass of red wine and another glass of iced water on the table in front of her, and she was all set. Before she took the box out of the pocket of her robe, she took a sip of wine and leaned back against the arm of the couch, one leg hanging off and and the other pulled to her chest.

After turning on a lo-fi playlist and taking a joint and the lighter from the box, Y/N finally lit it, then set her things on the table before taking a long drag. When she pulled it from her lips and slowly exhaled, she closed her eyes and focused on the music blasting through her earbuds. It didn't take long, only a few 3-minute songs, to feel a little buzzed. She kept her breathing steady, only taking a few drags once in a while as her free hand drifted over the front of her body, tracing patterns down her stomach and occasionally her breasts.

She was completely and totally relaxed. But just as she was about to dip her hand past her panties, the music stopped and her phone rang.

Had she not been slightly buzzed, she would have been more annoyed, but instead she just sighed, more disappointed than anything that her plans would (maybe) have to wait, depending on who was calling.

So Y/N was more than happy to look at her phone and see the words 'SPENCER REID' across the screen.

Unplugging her earbuds and then taking one more drag from her joint, she answered the phone. "Hey, Doc, what's up?" she inquired, smoke falling off her lips. "I'm happy you called."

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry to call so late."

"Nah, that's alright. It's never too late to get a call from my favorite guy."

She heard him laugh a little from the other end of the line. "Good. Well, um... I just got back from work and I was wondering if... maybe I could come over? That's fine if you're too busy, but I could really use the company, and I... I've missed you."

The smile on Y/N's face was unavoidable. And maybe it was only the buzz talking, but God, if hearing his voice wasn't the best thing in the whole world. It was almost as intoxicating as the high she was slowly but surely achieving.

"Aw, I've missed you, too, Doc," she purred. "What did you have in mind?"

Would it be wrong of me to pick up where I left off, she wondered as she waited for him to answer, her hand hovering over the waistband of her underwear. She took another drag of the joint and decided against it, though it was still tempting.

"Well, we can do anything you want, really, I just... I just want to be with you, that's all."

"Hmm... Alright. Well, come on over, and I'll be waiting."

"Okay. Should I, uh, bring some overnight clothes?"

Y/N felt like that was his subtle way of asking if they were going to be sleeping together that night, and just in case it wasn't, she added extra emphasis on her answer to either confirm his inquiry or give him a hint. "Yes."

He cleared his throat on the other end of the line before saying goodbye, and it made her giddy. They hung up, and she put the joint out, sticking it back in the box before wafting away some of the smoke and tying her robe closed. Every move she made made her head swim a little, but if anything she figured the small high she's created will make the sex feel even better.

She ran to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then spritzed on some perfume, hoping to mask some of the smell in case, for some reason, Spencer had a problem with it. She was sure he wouldn't, but she never wanted to make him uncomfortable with anything. Also, she just wanted to smell like the vanilla perfume she had that he once told her he loved anyway. Running back out to the living room, Y/N noticed that it still faintly smelled like marijuana. The candles masked it enough, though, and she figured it might dissipate by the time he got there.

Eventually she found herself on the couch again, before deciding to wait by the door. The thought of seeing Spencer again sent her body into a giddy, lovesick mess. She wanted to see him as soon as possible, and if that meant waiting by the front door like a puppy then so be it.

And then there was a knock at the door.

She wanted to wait. Really, she did. But she couldn't resist, and almost as soon as he'd stopped knocking, Y/N grabbed the doorknob and twisted, opening the door to reveal him standing there. He almost looked shocked, probably at the speed and ferocity with which she used to open the door, but once he saw her face, the shock melted into pure adoration, his lips forming a shy smile as he clutched his bag in his hands.

"Hi, Y/N," he said softly as she stepped aside and let him in.

"Hey'a, Doc," she chirped happily as she shut the door behind him.

He took his shoes off and set his bag on the ground before he spoke again. "You... lit candles," he observed, then turned around to fully take her in. His eyes drifted to her robe, which hung loosely closed, her underwear just barely peeking through. "And you look..."

His soft voice turned her insides into a quivering mess, and it took all of her strength not to jump him on the spot. She waited for him to finish his sentence, but it was clear that she'd rendered him speechless.

"Yeah, I was only going to have a relaxing night in," she explained, tilting her head up and exposing her neck. "You called at just the right time."

His head also tilted upwards, but he sniffed the air a few times. "Have... you been smoking?"

Y/N was a little panicked, but she tried not to let it show. "Oh. Yeah," she laughed, twirling a piece of her hair in between her fingers. "I was smoking a joint when you called, so I'm just a little buzzed right now. I hope that's okay. I thought maybe the candles would help offset the smell, but it's pretty strong I guess."

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking. "Oh, uh, no, that's okay. You know, actually, research related to using cannabis before and during sex isn't really conclusive, but it's theorized that depending on the person it could increase pleasure during orgasm, and even just touch in general."

"Is that so?" she responded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. She could have listened to him talk all day. He nodded, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. It made her want him even more. "Well... I think we should test out that theory. Don't you, Dr. Reid? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Her hands played with the tie of her robe before she slowly undid the knot and pulled the soft fabric apart, running her fingers lightly across her bare stomach as she did. She took her hands away from the robe just before it exposed her breasts and dropped her hands to her side. Spencer's eyes raked over her once more, each of his breaths getting noticeably heavier.

"Well?" she encouraged, tilting her head to the side.

He took a step towards her, clearing his throat a little. "Are, um... Are you high enough to try do you think? Or do you want more?"

She smiled. "Well, I can definitely feel a little of the effects right now, but some more wouldn't hurt. Would you prefer I smoke beforehand or during?"

"Um... Either is fine, I suppose."

One more step and he was close enough to touch, so Y/N reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, already melting at the contact.

"Would you like to share?" she finally asked. "Of course I won't make you if you're not comfortable, I just thought I'd ask."

He smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "I appreciate that. And... I'd love to share."

Pulling herself away from the door, she kept her hand locked with Spencer's before leading him a few steps away into the living room.

"Have a seat," she offered, reluctantly letting him go as he made his way to sit on the couch. Y/N turned and cleared the coffee table, setting the drinks and candles on the side table instead, and then grabbed the small box as she turned to face Spencer.

Her eyes locked onto his as she swiftly opened the box and grabbed a new joint and her lighter. Setting the box on the side table, she made sure to keep her upper body somewhat covered by the robe. It left just enough exposed that Spencer's eyes briefly left hers and glanced down at her chest, checking to see if anything had slipped. Almost as quickly as he'd looked down, he looked back up, swallowing and slightly parting his lips.

Y/N took that moment to close their distance and promptly straddle his lap. He straightened and placed his hands tentatively on her waist, over her robe as she brought her hand up to his face, lightly tracing the end of the joint across his jawline.

"Have you ever smoked before, Doc," she asked softly as she brought the joint around to trace his lips.

He exhaled a little, and she could see his tongue dance behind his lips, trying to find words it seemed, before settling on, "A few times... I don't particularly care for the smell, but I manage."

She pulled the joint away from him and placed it between her lips, simultaneously holding out the lighter for him to take. He did, and she watched his hands as he flicked it on and lit it for her. She took the lighter from him and reached to the left to toss it on the table next to the box, her hips grinding softly in his lap. She could feel Spencer's breath hitch as she came back, this time leaning backwards a little and sliding the robe over her breasts, finally exposing them as she inhaled.

The pure longing in Spencer's eyes was just as exhilarating, if not better, than the feeling Y/N got when she removed the joint from her lips and slowly let go of her breath. She blew the smoke to the side, barely missing his face, and she noticed how he slightly chased it, tilting his head to inhale some of it.

With her free hand, Y/N dragged her fingers across her breasts and sighed longingly. "You said this could increase pleasure just by touching, right, Doctor?"

He nodded, his eyes drifting down to her chest as he softly bit the corner of his lip.

"Well, I can't tell if this feels better than it would normally, but it definitely feels pretty damn good," she remarked before taking another short drag. Her fingers pinched her nipple lightly, and she moaned as she exhaled, grinding her hips against his once more.

This time he breathed a little louder, nearly a whimper, and it urged Y/N forward. "Touch me, Doctor," she breathed, grinding her hips once more and taking her hand away from her breast.

Without hesitation, Spencer's hand replaced hers, his thumb rolling softly over her nipple. She sighed, holding onto his shoulder with her free hand before taking another drag. This time, when she exhaled, Y/N tilted her head upwards, exposing her neck and, again, grinding her hips. Her eyes closed as he continued to touch her, his other hand resting firmly on her bare waist, skin burning skin.

Every second of this is pure bliss, and they both still had a good amount of clothes on. It could have been the drug taking effect, or maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, but it was the best Y/N had felt in a while.

As she leaned into him, enveloping herself in every sensation, Spencer leaned his head forward and took her nipple into his mouth, lightly sucking on it and swirling is tongue over it, his other hand tightening its grip on her waist. She moaned again, grinding her hips even harder and feeling her stomach flutter at every touch. He moved along to her other breast, following the same motions with his tongue as before as she continued to rock into his hips.

She took one more drag and then exhaled before pulling herself away from him and forcing him to look her in the eye.

"As much as I love how this feels, Doctor, I think you have on a few too many clothes. Here." She handed him the joint. He took it and she climbed up off of him and knelt to the ground, taking him in as he brought it to his lips and inhaled. Y/N sighed, tilting her head and softly biting her bottom lip when he pulled the joint away and breathed out, smoke pooling around his face.

God, he's so hot, she thought to herself as she took him all in. He was wearing just a white button down dress shirt with a tie, black pants, and one sock that was purple, the other white with red polkadots. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled up just below his elbows, showing off small muscles and veins.

My God, those veins...

She pulled herself out of her trance, crawling up Spencer's legs and resting her hands on his belt. "Can I take these off for you, Doc?"

"Yes," he responded breathlessly.

Y/N looked up at him as she worked at his belt, unbuckling then sliding it out and tossing it on the floor. Then she deftly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before sliding them down, also tossing them aside.

"I'm a little more high than you right now, Doctor, so you might want to catch up if you want this little experiment to be accurate," she purred as she palmed him through his underwear. Without hesitation he took another drag from the joint and closed his eyes, leaning his head back while she continued to tease.

"That's it, Doc, just relax. I'll take good care of you."

Spencer exhaled, groaning as he did so. Y/N's hands continued to trace his dick through the fabric, and she could feel him getting harder beneath her touch. Her head leaned down to kiss his inner thigh, and she trailed her tongue lightly upwards, eventually reaching and pressing a firm kiss to the tip of his dick through the fabric when he took another drag. Her mouth then travelled upwards to his lower stomach, undoing the bottom buttons of his shirt and slowly working her way up, pressing soft kisses and little licks to his skin after undoing each one. She took her time, lightly raking her nails up and down his torso in between buttons. By the time she reached the top, undoing his tie and tossing it aside, leaving his shirt on but completely open, he was in the middle of taking another drag.

Sliding off her robe and tossing it aside, Y/N waited until he exhaled, then straddled him again and firmly pressed her lips to his. Her hands glided up to the back of his neck and through his hair, tugging lightly, as she's learned over time he very much enjoyed. As if she'd needed confirmation, Spencer moaned into her mouth, using his free hand to lightly caress her back.

Now that there were less clothes between them, Y/N ground her hips against his again, and her lower stomach practically burst into butterflies, sending her into a mess of tremors. She moaned softly as she took his bottom lip between her teeth, and then before he could lean in and kiss her again, she pulled away, taking the joint from him and taking another long drag. Her other hand played with his hair as she leaned her head back and breathed out, smoke falling around her.

Spencer's hands gripped her waist firmly as he rocked her hips into his, leaning forward and kissing down the front of her neck.

"Fuck," she breathed, grinding harder and feeling her breathing pick up. She could probably cum from just this if they kept at it, but in the weeks since she'd seen him last, she'd craved him, and so she was willing to drag this out as long as possible in case he was somehow called away in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly she peeled herself away and handed him the joint. "You want me to suck you off while you get high, Doc?" she inquired, kneeling once more and tugging on the waistband of his underwear. "Would that feel good?"

"God, yes, Y/N," he breathed, throwing his head back.

"Well, then your wish is my command," she purred, pulling his underwear down and tossing them aside with the other clothes. His dick was even more perfect than she remembered, and her stomach erupted at the sight of it. Licking a line up the length of him, Y/N's eyes fluttered up to look at him through her eyelashes. He was taking another drag of the joint as she took him completely in her mouth and started bobbing her head up and down at a torturous pace. His other hand drifted down to her hair, and he combed it back, away from her face so he could see her.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so good," he groaned, smoke exhaling from his lips as he said it.

She moaned softly around his dick in response, gradually increasing her pace. The lack of breath through her mouth mixed with the cannabis in her system made her head start to spin, but in the best way possible.

Eventually she slowed her movements again, then removed her mouth from him completely, replacing it with her hand. "Would you say the cannabis is increasing you pleasure when I touch you, Dr. Reid?"

At the smooth, seductive tone in her voice, he leaned his head back and sighed as she continued stroking him with her hand. "Yes. You feel so good. You make me feel so fucking good, Y/N."

His words made her stomach coil in desire, and she decided promptly that she needed him right then and there. She peeled her hand away from him and got up, sliding her underwear down and looking him dead in the eye.

"Mmm, I love when you use your words, Doc," she purred, straddling him once more and taking the joint from him to take a drag herself. She took her sweet time, sinking down just a little so that the tip of his cock sat firmly at the base of her pussy, barely touching. She exhaled and used her other hand to comb his hair with her fingers. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want." She meant it wholeheartedly.

His hands slid up her sides and over to her breasts just lightly, enough so that he wasn't touching them completely, but enough that she shivered. He ran them back down and firmly gripped her waist. "I want you to fuck me, Y/N," he said, completely entranced and desperate. "Ride me. Please, I want to feel you."

"Happy to," she breathed before completely sinking down onto him and rocking her hips forward. He groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Fuck..."

She set a steady pace, bouncing nicely on his cock as she took another long drag of the joint. Everything was dizzying and light around her, and every part of her body lit up with pleasure. As she exhaled, she let out a moan louder than she had all night, everything so overwhelmingly blissful and, well... high.

It wouldn't take long to come undone, she was sure of it, and she didn't want this to end so soon. So she slowed her pace, rocking against him ever so slowly, soaking in every inch of him, every touch of his hands as they roamed her body.

Spencer took the joint from her fingers and took another drag, locking eyes with her as he did it. When he blew the smoke out, it enveloped the both of them, and she breathed it in through her nose, taking a deep breath and gripping his shoulders as she worked her hips against his.

"Fuck," she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him. When their lips connected, that's when everything started to build. Y/N was pulled impossibly closer to him and her speed started to involuntarily increase. His tongue swiped out to meet with hers and his free hand reached down to her clit, circling it with his thumb. The extra sensation sent her into overdrive, and her orgasm crept up into her, threatening to explode. She groaned into Spencer's mouth, signaling how close she was to coming undone. Her lips parted from his and she rested their foreheads together, his hips bucking upwards to meet hers and plunging himself even deeper into her as his thumb worked her clit.

"That's it, fuck," she breathed, and in no time at all, release found her, blinding her so brightly it was like she was wasn't even on this plane of existence. She let out a long moan, her hips stopping and staying completely still as he fucked into her relentlessly. Her eyes screwed shut, seeing stars as her bliss increased, every thrust of his hips bringing her higher and higher until she was calling out his name.

His name falling off her lips was enough to push Spencer over the edge himself. He pulled her closer as he spilled over inside of her, and Y/N felt like she was on fire. They both hung on to every second until they were both slumped against each other, completely spent and also lightheaded.

Y/N was so unbelievably unbothered and comfortable in that moment that she didn't want to get up, but reluctantly she helped herself up off his lap and placed herself next to him, still hugging close to his side. Neither of them said anything for a while. Rather, they passed the joint between the themselves until it was finished, occasionally kissing each other in between passes.

She set the end of the joint on top of the box on the table before leaning back to Spencer and resting her head on his shoulder. She was completely aware of every glide of his hand up and down her arm as they sat in comfortable silence, until he broke it.

"Gotta say, that's not exactly what I had in mind when I called. But I'm happy about it anyway. We should do that more often."

Y/N snuggled up into his side and giggled. "Anytime, Doc."

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid

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the-omni-princess · 4 years

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How Do You Take It?

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: Crazy things happen in coffee shops at 5AM, especially when Steve's favorite coffee shop is closed.

Word Count: 3.4K

Pairing: Shrunkyclunks (Cap!Steve x Modern!Bucky) Soulmate AU!

Warnings: Cursing (I think), fluff a sprinkle of angst but pretty chill

A/N: Surprise! I’m your Stucky Secret Santa! Hope you enjoy @wolfiejinn (though I know you saw this on A03 first)

Ya like AUs so my brain screeched Coffee Shop and Soulmate AU and I couldn’t help myself.

My first Stucky fic so I hope you like it!

[Masterlist]

The mission went longer than expected. Tiring, time-consuming, and way too damn long. Afterward, Steve showered then simply crashed on his bed. On the bright side, Tony and Natasha theorized that Hydra was almost fully gone, and Steve no longer would have to worry about late-night missions to take down yet another Hydra base.

Now, all he had to worry about was the stupid words on his wrist. Soul marks. The very first words his soulmate would say to him.

Steve’s Soulmark had turned into an inside joke in the Avenger’s Tower. In pretty cursive dark blue writing on his right wrist were the words “How do you take it?” Tony pretty much had a field day when he found out Steve’s words. Multiple jokes and a myriad of jabs and innuendos in passing, even Sam had teased him about his Soulmark when he moved into the tower and officially became an Avenger.

Never did he think those ridiculous words would come up again… at 4:50 in the morning.

Steve had been asleep for hours, and had woken up way too early, and was now standing in front of his favorite coffee shop… which was closed for another hour. “Well, shit,” resigned to drinking shitty coffee from Clint’s broken coffee machine, Steve made his way back to the Tower.

A glint of metal caught his attention, a girl with dark unruly curls, struggling to get a café door open as her arms were wrapped around a mountain of boxes. Ever the gentleman, and with his ma’s voice in his head scolding him for not moving faster, Steve quickly held the door open for her. Bright blue eyes looked up at him in surprise. “Oh! Thank you!” The woman disappeared inside, and glanced back at Steve, noticing the slight shiver he gave at the cold. He didn’t want to admit how the cold seemed to affect him more since he was found in the ice. It gave him flashes of icy cold water and choking and drowning before his world went black. “Why don’t you come inside, sweetheart? You’ll catch a cold out in that weather! Buck will make you a cup of coffee, least we can do since you helped me out,” the girl looked like she couldn’t have been older than twenty, yet she went a mile a minute, pulling new decorations from the boxes she was carrying as she spoke towards Steve.

Suddenly he found his voice, stepping inside the quaint café as he realized the woman in front of him was offering coffee, offering warmth. “Please, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he quickly said. He didn’t want to explain how it usually took more than a handful of shots of caffeine for him to feel anything. Thanks to the serum, coffee was more of a luxury of warmth.

“Nonsense, we’re opening in-“ she glanced at the clock on the wall, Steve following her eyes as he started to take in the relatively small café. “Almost an hour, really isn’t too much trouble. Bucky!” She called out louder, aiming her voice towards the back door, just past the small counter and glass display case already half full of pastries. “Mind making a cup of joe for this kind stranger that helped me out this morning?”

Steve stayed close to the door, taking in the details of the shop, a few tables along the wall, a handful of older seats, the pastries in the display case all had small bits of steam rolling off of them, fresh enough that Steve could smell the honey and butter off of the croissants. So wrapped up in looking at the new decorations the girl placed on a shelf, Steve didn’t really notice a new person enter the room, placing a new tray of what smelled like blueberry muffins into the display case.

The metal of the tray clanging against the metal edge of the display caught Steve's attention, his eyes taking in the newcomer. Baby blue button-down long sleeve shirt, black apron covered in flour, wearing oven mitts. Matching dark curls to the woman he helped, and icy eyes that were complemented by the shirt he was wearing, Steve felt his heart lurch uncomfortable, almost a past reminder of his heart murmurs before the serum. “Good morning- oh god you’re hot,” the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, making his face light up in pink blush, easily spreading up his cheeks and down his neck.

He turned towards Steve, raising his eyebrow just a hair answering without much thought, as if an automatic reaction, “How do you take it?” The three people in the room froze, and Steve thought he could hear this man’s heart skip a beat of two.

“Wha-what-“ He coughed lightly, trying (and mostly failing) to gain his composure. “What did you just say?” His eyes were locked onto this man, getting lost in his features, the dimple in his chin, his shorter curls falling just above his eyes- God those eyes.

“How… How do you take it?” He gulped, eyes just as wide.

“No fucking way,” The girl spoke that time, eyes fluttering back between the two.

The world seemed to slow, Steve’s racing mind quickly trying to do what he did best: strategize and make a plan. “Well… “ He finally broke the silence, giving the man, Bucky, if he remembered the girl’s words correctly, a small and shy smile. “I feel like I should apologize for the words you have. ‘Oh god you’re hot,’ probably sucked,” despite the tense surroundings and his cheeks still a very noticeable shade of pink, Steve attempted a joke.

Bucky couldn’t help but burst into giggles, grinning back at him. “Apologize?! Please tell me ‘How do you take it?’ isn’t the words you have, otherwise, I should start with the apologizing,” he shot back.

Steve stepped forward, rolling up his sleeve, showing the cursive letters of his mark. Bucky moved past the counter, pulling his sleeve up and tossing his right mitten off to expose his own mark. Steve couldn’t help himself, gently taking his wrist in his hands, his calloused fingers running over the mark. The words were in deep red, like dripping crimson blood, edged on the softest skin Steve’s ever felt in his life. “You’re really it?” Steve hated how vulnerable his voice was, but of all the things he thought would happen at 5 am, this was probably at the very end of the list. “My soulmate.”

“Hi,” he responded in kind, giving Steve the brightest smile, he’s ever seen in his life. Oh fuck, he was already whipped for this man, wasn’t he? “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but most people call me Bucky,” he introduced. “And that trouble maker, and my new favorite person, is my sister Becca.” He nodded towards the girl, still staring up into Steve’s eyes, which he most definitely wasn’t going to argue about.

“I’m Steve…” he murmured breathlessly, caught up in the very steel in his soulmate’s eyes. “Steven Grant Rogers.”

He noticed Bucky’s eyes immediately go wide. “No way. You get Captain fucking America as your soulmate?!” Becca sounded off beside them, making Steve go red again as he stepped away from Bucky. Both instantaneously regretted the move, instantly missing the other’s touch but keeping silent about it.

“Sorry, miss. Turns out, I did intrude your morning,” he said sheepishly.

“Intrude whenever you want,” Bucky mumbled, Steve’s enhanced ears hearing it easily. He couldn’t help the grin from his face, looking back towards his soulmate- his soulmate!!- noticing how red he looked.

“Why don’t you stay for breakfast?” Becca quickly took control of the situation, seeing both boys flustering near each other, it was painfully adorable truthfully.

“But the muffi-“ Bucky tried to argue, his gaze finally leaving the safety of Steve’s blue eyes to look at his sister.

“I’ve got those, sweetie. Exchange numbers and talk with your soulmate,” she drawled the word as if it was scandalous, taking the boxes with her as she rushed to the back.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Bucky looked back towards a starstruck Steve.

“Yes!” He stumbled over his words, more blush rising in his cheeks. “I’d… I’d love to.” He added, following Bucky to the table in the back corner, sitting on the side facing the door, a habit of his.

“Never answered my question, ya know?” Bucky moved gracefully to the other side of the counter, starting up the coffee machine.

“Oh! Sorry, got a little caught up is all,” he smiled sheepishly, making Bucky rolled his eyes playfully.

“Well? How do you take your coffee?” He started pouring two mugs.

“Well… I usually add like ten shots to actually feel it. Serum and all,” he wasn’t sure why he felt nervous admitting that out loud.

“Ah,” Bucky clicked his tongue faintly, pressing a few buttons on the machine before making a new mug, dumping one of the old ones in the nearby sink. “How much sugar and milk?” he called out, moving around the side, grabbing said materials from a shelf.

“As much as you’re willing to put in it and still call it coffee,” he smiled warmly, feeling strangely happy as Bucky grinned back at him.

“A man with a sweet tooth, no wonder we’re soulmates,” he teased, pouring a fair amount of milk into both mugs before pouring a staggering amount of sugar in both. Bucky grabbed a few muffins before placing the mug in front of Steve, and two muffins, chocolate chip, and blueberry. He sat across from Steve, quick to sip on his coffee.

“I lived in the Great Depression and war, I’m currently trying to compensate for all the sugar I never was able to have as a kid, Sweetheart,” he tried to joke, the pet name slipping in easily as he started to relax.

Bucky went red again at the pet name, making Steve wonder how much Brooklyn drawl bled into his words without him trying. “Well you’re welcome to your sugar fix here anytime,” Bucky smiled back.

“Is that from the pastries or from you?” Steve teased, happy all of Sam’s jabs at his flirting have helped him gotten better at it. Poor Bucky didn’t know what was coming.

“Either works for me,” he shot back, a cheeky grin lighting up his features. The rising sun of New York lit up his body from the window behind him, and Steve’s mind couldn’t help but memorize it immediately to sketch it the second he got back to the tower.

“Don’t tempt me, I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’ll let you hold whatever you want against me,” Bucky’s grin was infectious, both boys wearing matching goofy smiles as they continued to joke and share breakfast.

By the time Becca came back down to the shop with more pastries, both men were completely enamored by the other, unable to stop smiling and teasing the other as they learned more of each other. By the time Steve had to leave, he knew he was completely and utterly in love with James Buchanan Barnes.

---

Whistling and smiling, Steve practically skipped in the Tower’s main communal living room. Three different pairs of eyes looked at him baffled, confused as to the sudden change in their Captain.

“Either you got laid, or Fury gave you a vacation. What's up with you, Capsicle?” Tony looked up from his Stark Tablet, no doubt working on his latest technological advance on his suit.

“Not much,” he shrugged, grabbing his tablet from the counter before sitting on the couch, opening reports to finish.

“Yeah, I believe that,” Sam gave him a look, sarcasm laced into his voice. Steve didn’t reply, only grinning at his phone as a notification lit up his screen. He quickly responded back, the smile never straying from his face.

“Something’s wrong with Cap, he’s smiling for longer than five minutes.” Tony put his tablet down, slowly getting invested in this new mystery.

“Five bucks says it’s because he found his soulmate,” Natasha spoke up, sitting on the countertop, tilting her head with a smug smirk. “What are your bets, Clint?” She called out.

“Oh, you’re definitely right.” A voice from above stated.

“Clint, we’ve talked about you and your obsession with my vents,” Tony groaned. Steve merely ignored the comments, continuing to text Bucky.

“So? Tell us about her?” Sam pipped in, moving closer to Steve on the couch.

Steve sighed softly, “Not going to let this go, will you?”

“Nope!” Clint’s voice rang from the vent above.

“Him…” Steve’s voice was small, unsure how they would take the news. “I met him today. His name is Bucky…”

“What sorta name is Bucky?” Tony’s face scrunched up. “Of all the soulmate names, yours is named Bucky.”

“Tony-“ Steve tried to defend.

“Oh, come on, you can’t tell me his name isn’t weird! Either way, happy you found ‘em, tell us all about him,” Ever the nosy little shit, Tony tossed his tablet down and launched at the sofa to get comfortable, curling up beside an equally as excited Sam. Even Natasha moved closer, her smirk just a little bigger.

“Should I even try to ignore you three?” Steve glanced at his phone before putting it down to look at his teammates.

“What about me?!” Clint called out again.

“Sorry, Four,” Steve amended, all three Avengers in front of him giving him looks. “Okay fine. His name is James, he works at Barnes’ Café in Brooklyn, the son of the owners. The usual place I go to over there was closed but his sister, Rebecca, let me in early and that’s where I met him.” His face softened, a smile on his face as he started to tell them all about his Soulmate. His teammates could see just how whipped he was for the barista after one meeting. Sam and Natasha found it sweet, Tony, however supportive, was also shocked how in love Steve looked already. He knew how fast you could fall for your soulmate, but the man looked ready to fight wars for his soulmate.

“So when will we meet him?” Tony smiled, already making plans in his head to look into this ‘James.’ Call him over-protective, but Tony would make sure anybody his teammates loved was worthy of that love, a few background checks wouldn’t hurt too much.

“Well, I’ll ask him, but Tony,” Steve looked at one of the few friends he had made since appearing in this time, knowing him better than he thought he did, “Let me explore this before you scare him off.”

Tony held up his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright, but if you want to know a single detail, just ask Jarvis.”

---

Over the next few weeks, Steve made it a habit to stop by the Barnes’ Café almost every morning. Through constant visits and an equally enamored soulmate, Steve learned a myriad of details about Bucky. He knew his coffee order, a caramel latte just as sweet as Steve liked it, he knew his family, growing close with Rebecca whenever Bucky was busy in the kitchen. He knew that Bucky loved experimenting with baking and couldn’t afford to go to cooking school like he wanted so he went to NYU on a scholarship and received a bachelor’s in business, helping his parents and three younger sisters run their café. Steve knew Bucky’s favorite Avenger (other than Steve of course) was Natasha, because, and he quote, thought it was “really cool the way she told the government to fuck off.”

Now, a month later, it was finally happening. Bucky was in the elevator, hand in hand with Steve, about to meet the other Avengers.

Steve also knew on another important thing about Bucky, he was an amputee. Not that it made Steve love Bucky – oh my god he loved him – any less, but it was an important part of him. And now, Bucky was honestly nervous it would make the Avengers hate him. He knew it wasn’t that likely, but all the looks other people had given him when they saw his prosthetic had been ingrained into his head.

“I’m right here, baby, no matter what,” Steve promised in a soft voice, his grip on Bucky’s hand tightening slightly.

“I know, but what if they don’t like me-“

“Buck, we’ve been through this. They’ll love you, doll.” He kissed his head sweetly, Bucky’s face lighting up red as the elevator doors opened.

“Alright… let’s do this.” He smiled shyly as Steve led him to the communal living room where Tony, Sam, Natasha, Bruce, and Clint (finally out of the vents) stood, joking around until they saw the couple come in.

“Hey everyone, this is Bucky,” Steve spoke, gently nudging the man in front of him, Bucky only responding with an awkward wave.

“H-hi-… I mean hi!” He smiled bashfully at the quartet in front of him. “Nice to meet you all.”

“I have one very important question, James,” Clint stepped forward, narrowing his eyes at him. “Who’s your favorite Avenger? Choose wisely, and you can’t say, Cap.”

“Widow,” he responded instantly, earning a grin and a pat on the back from Clint.

“He passes all my tests!”

“Clint, honey, everyone passes your tests,” Natasha sighed softly, quickly signing something to the deaf archer.

Clint merely waved his hand, responded just as quickly before grabbing chips from the pantry and jumping onto a sofa.

“One down, four to go,” Steve joked, Sam rolling his eyes.

“I’m Sam. That birdbrain was Clint. You probably know the other three idiots trying to act intimidating, so I’ll just sit down.”

“So, Bucko,” Tony finally stepped forward, making Bucky gulp as he tried not to back right into Steve’s arms. Steve. Steve would protect him. Right? “Wait, what’s that?” The billionaire looked intrigued, pointing towards Bucky’s left hand.

“Oh! It-it’s nothing!” He quickly realized his mistake, attempting to hide his hand behind him again.

“Is that a metal prosthetic?” Tony took another step forwards, Bucky taking one back, crashing right into Steve.

“Y-yeah… lost my arm in a motorcycling accident when I was in high school, got this a few years ago-“ Tony didn’t respond, already crowding into Bucky’s space.

“Holy shit, the metal plating on this thing is incredible!” He looked back up to see the man’s terrified expression. “Oh, where are my manners?” Tony visibly softened, “We’re all pretty chill here, more curious then anything as to who the Universe decided was the perfect soulmate for Capsicle,” he explained.

The explanation calmed Bucky a bit, but the Black Widow moving closer to him, Bruce Banner at her side, made his anxiety spike again. “So? I’m your favorite huh?” Was that mirth in her voice?

“Because you told the government to fuck off,” Steve supplied, much to Bucky’s annoyance, a goofy grin on his face.

Bucky could have sworn he saw an actual smile from the assassin. “Well, welcome to the family, Bucky. It’s movie night, and we’re watching ‘Ratatouille,’ Steve’s never seen it.” Nat didn’t even glance he was as she and Bruce, who gave a small hello to Bucky as well, both sat on the couches (well Natasha and Clint sat on the floor, the soulmates once stating the rug was more comfortable) with the rest of the Avengers.

“You’ve never seen Ratatouille?!” Bucky cried out, turning on his soulmate, who had the decency to look bashful.

“I’ve been a little busy with saving the world, doll,” he tried.

“That’s no excuse! Sit your butt down, Rogers,” Bucky gave him a look, finally starting to relax for the first time since he came to the tower. Steve obliged, sitting in a love seat and pulling Bucky beside him, placing a possessive kiss on his cheek.

“Oh God, he is whipped,” Tony muttered, already trying to get Jarvis to start the movie.

“Oh, shut your mouth Tony, like you’re not the same with Pepper.” Steve teased, earning a pillow thrown at him, which he easily swatted away.

Just like that the movie began playing and everyone began to feel comfortable. As the movie started, and the music began to play, Bucky slowly curled up into Steve. Maybe this was what a soulmate was supposed to be. Not just someone you could be yourself and be just right for them, but someone you could be yourself, and be accepted and loved by their family as well. Born into, adopted, or found. Family was everything.

Tags:

So, this is a Stucky so I tagged my Bucky tags as well :D

If this isn’t your thing, that’s fine! Don’t worry about it <3

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland / @lumar014 / @maniacproffesor / @gollyderek / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @avengerstones / @momc95 / @loving-life-my-way / @agentpeggybarnes / @marvelmaree / @thefridgeismybestie / miraclesoflove / hello-fanfiction-goodbye-grades / deathofmissjackson

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx / @thedancingnerdmermaid / @mood-pancakes / @gracethegeek9902 / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @sunkissedbarnes / @annavega333 / @im-not-an-armrest-im-short

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

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citrinekay · 4 years

Note

ooo for the Mindhunter prompt: Bill trying to keep the fact that Nancy left him after Atlanta a secret. But Holden picking up on the fact that something is wrong.

Another great prompt! thank youuu!

On a Saturday in June, most people are going for ice cream, running in the park, or playing a few rounds of put-put golf. For Holden, the dazzling sunlight is too bright against his aching eyes as he walks into Quantico to catch up on some paperwork left over from the previous week’s interview. He isn’t necessarily eager to be looking at dead bodies or the thoughts of a killer on a radiant summer day, but he has no other plans. If he stays at home alone for too long, his thoughts wind inward, down a dark and dismal path that somehow always finds its way back to the humid streets of Atlanta.

The basement is quiet when he arrives, but when he tries his key in the lock, the door is already open. A frown knits his brow as he slips inside, and wanders across the bullpen to his desk. The light in Bill’s office is on.

Holden sets his briefcase down, and walks over to see Bill hunched over his desk. A cigarette is burning low between his fingers while he pours over a dismantled case file that includes photographs of intricate knots and white skin.

“Bill, what are you doing here?” Holden asks.

Bill startles, swiping his reading glasses from his face. “Holden. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry.” Holden says, “I didn’t think anyone else would be here.”

“Just trying to get caught up on some work.”

Curiosity sharpens in Holden’s chest as he draws closer, glimpsing the familiar crime scene photos that Bill always has in front of him when they’re not working on anything else.

“On BTK?”

Bill slaps the file shut. “I was just about to head out.”

Holden watches dubiously as Bill gets up, and swings his jacket from the back of his chair and over his shoulder. Smoke bleeds into the air from the cigarette dangling from his lips. The set of his jaw is tense, and he has bags under his eyes. Holden knows what sleeplessness looks like because he’s been far too acquainted with the dark hours of the night himself the past few weeks.

“Is something going on with you?” Holden asks.

Bill’s sigh punctuates the air.

“I’m not trying to pry. I just thought with everything going on, you’d be at home with Brian and Nancy-”

Bill grabs his briefcase, and circles the desk to meet Holden’s eyes. His brow is furled defensively, and maybe Holden would have cowered from that glare a little while ago. The short-burnt fuse of Atlanta is narrow on both sides, though, and nothing could make him feel worse than he already does.

“You’re right.” Bill says, sharply. “You shouldn’t pry because it’s none of your business how I spend my time with my family.”

Holden nods, clenching his jaw. “Something is going on.”

“If you’re so sure, then figure it out yourself.” Bill says, shuffling past him.

“You’ve been on edge ever since we got back.” Holden says, turning to address Bill’s retreating back. “You work late every night. When we were out of state last week, you didn’t call Nancy once - in fact, you didn’t even mention her. You’re wearing the same shirt you wore on Friday. You’re looking at BTK when you would normally be at home on a weekend spending time with your son.”

Bill pauses in the doorway of the office. His shoulders rise with a tense breath. For a moment, Holden expects him to turn around, and make some sort of confession. But perhaps that’s only what he wanted, not anticipated, because Bill turns the corner and keeps walking until the door slams shut behind him.

Holden sighs, quietly. The basement settles and groans around him, and he wishes he wasn’t the only one breaking down.

Two weeks later, they’re called out to Oklahoma for a consult. Three young boys missing, presumed dead. They’re all white, but it doesn’t matter. It’s close enough. Holden quietly prays that none of them are floating down the river.

A few days in, Holden walks down from his hotel room to the lobby where a continental breakfast is provided for guests. Bill is sitting at a corner table with a cup of coffee and a bagel in front of him.

Holden snags coffee and a muffin from the bar, and walks over to Bill.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asks.

Bill waves a noncommittal hand. He looks dead tired. Dark circles under his eyes, pale skin, bloodshot eyes. Holden wonders if he got any more sleep than the four hours he managed to get himself.

They eat in silence for a few moments. Bill lights a cigarette, and takes three slow drags before he casts Holden an exhausted gaze. His eyes are glassy, some vivid, aching brand of vulnerability that feels out of place in a hotel lobby.

“Nancy left.” He says, quietly, almost so that Holden doesn’t hear him.

Holden’s gaze shoots up from the crumbling remnants of his muffin. He swallows hard.

Bill looks away, the corners of his eyes pinching as he exhales smoke. “When I came back from Atlanta, she was gone. The house was empty. She took everything.”

“God, Bill …” Holden begins, his chest seizing with disbelief.

Bill shakes his head. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that. Is there anything you need from me?”

Bill’s mouth tips in a sad smile. “Just this, for right now. I really need to keep working, keep my mind off it.”

“I can do that.” Holden says, “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Thanks.” Bill says. He leans forward to tap ashes into the tray at the middle of the table, and clears his throat. “Tell me what you’re thinking about the profile. It’s been two days, and I’m sure the commissioner will want to know what kind of direction we’re going in.”

“Yes.” Holden says, “I’ve been thinking about the types of boys these are. None of them would have gone with a stranger. It had to have been someone they know.”

The conversation carries on around the profile, and Holden feels himself begin to relax into the rhythm of their theorizing. He doesn’t relish Bill’s situation at all, but something about this feels normal, better than Atlanta, than the past few weeks. It feels like maybe he’ll get some sleep tonight.

#mymycorrhizae #mindhunter #bill x holden #my writing

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faierius · 6 years

Text

In His Shoes (12. The More You Know)

Chapter One (Can’t We All Just Get Along?)

Chapter Two (Out Of Body Experience)

Chapter Three (We Don’t Talk About That)

Chapter Four (My Body Won’t Change My Heart)

Chapter Five (Myth and Mystery)

Chapter Six (Baby Steps)

Chapter Seven (Sleep on it)

Chapter Eight (Seeds)

Chapter Nine (All About Perspective)

Chapter Ten (Sweet Dreams are Made of These)

Chapter Eleven (This is Not Our Name)

Achoo!

“Was that the ninth or tenth?” Gladio chuckled, glancing up from his book.

“I lost track,” Noctis grumbled.

“I believe that was the tenth,” Ignis commented, peeking up at the others.

“Can’t help it!” Prompto whined with a nasally voice. “Gladio’s allergies are outta control.” He sneezed again.

“These books are pretty dusty. At least I don’t have to deal with it for a change.” Turning the page, a small cloud of dust puffed off the book.

“C’mon, I’m sufferin’ over here!” A chain of sneezes brought the total to fifteen. “My eyes itch, my nose itches, and I feel like I’ve got a head cold.”

“Any excuse to get out of reading,” Noctis sighed, shaking his head as he turned his page.

Prompto pouted, his face twisting up comically as the itch of an impending sneeze filled his sinuses. “Yeah, because I’m totally gonna learn anything in,” –Prompto peeked at the cover of his book— “Marine Biology of Eos, 726 Edition.”

Noctis stopped reading and raised his eyebrows at Prompto. “Why did you even take that one?”

“There’s like, twenty books in that box. I grabbed one at random,” Prompto replied with a shrug.

“Maybe pick one with a relevant title this time,” Gladio advised, reaching across the coffee table and plucking the book from Prompto’s hands.

“So I can sneeze all over it?” Prompto asked, rubbing his nose. Sighing, he leaned back in his seat and sneezed yet again. “What’re you guys reading?”

Tossing the biology book aside, Gladio turned his own over to read the spine. “Duscae’s One Hundred Most Influential Individuals. Published in 719.”

“Myths and Monsters; An Unofficial Bestiary,” Noctis replied.

“Fabulae et Vita: Viribus Gelida.”

“That sounds important,” Noctis commented, raising his eyes from his volume.

Prompto leaned over to peek at Ignis’ book. “Can you read it? Is it in Lucian?”

“Yes, and yes. It appears to be—”

“Huh,” Gladio interrupted, flipping his page. “Did you guys know a hundred years ago there was a man who lived out near Alstor who farmed— raised? —cactuar?”

“That hardly seems to be a rewarding profession. Why?” Ignis humored Gladio, looking up from his book.

The man scanned a few lines of text. “He used their needles to create poison antidotes.”

Ignis raised his brows, impressed. “While that does sound like an intriguing read, it hardly pertains to our predicament.”

“Well I’m not done reading, just thought it was an interesting face to mention.”

“Oh, yeah, totally!” Prompto agreed. “Y’know, now that I think about it, have you ever seen a baby cactuar? Like, do they all come in one size?”

Noctis smirked. “Getting a little off-track, Prom.”

“One day I’m gonna find a baby cactuar and snap a picture of it!”

“If anyone can do it, it’d be you, Prompto,” Gladio assured him with a nod.

Prompto beamed at the approval.

Shaking his head, Noctis’ smile slipped as he turned his attention back to Ignis. “What were you saying, Specs?”

“This book seems to be a biography of sorts,” he replied.

�� “Well, yeah. The title itself pretty much means life story. Who’s it about?” Noctis asked, pulling his feet up into the chair and crossing his legs.

“Insomnian born twins Eyoralin Viribus and Timorea Gelida,” Ignis answered as his eyes continued to move across the lines of text.

“Never heard of ‘em,” said Gladio.

“If they were important enough to have a book written about their lives, you’d think at least one of us would know who they are. Any ideas, Iggy?”

The man shook his head. “I can’t say I’m familiar with the names. Perhaps they earned their reputation outside the city.”

“That makes sense,” Prompto agreed, nodding.

“Prompto?”

“Yeah, Ig?”

“Describe the woman you saw in your dream for me, please.”

“With or without the grody daemon ooze?”

“Without, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Uh…She would have been drop-dead gorgeous when she was alive. Dark red hair, scary blue eyes. Or, eye. The other one was black, but I think that had to do with being a daemon. Old fashion armor…I was kinda too scared to absorb much else.”

Gladio turned his book around, holding it in one hand. “This her?”

Eyebrows raised, Prompto looked up at Gladio’s book. As soon as his eyes locked on the portrait, he felt an icy hand grip his heart. Unable to form words, Prompto nodded emphatically, sinking as far into his chair as he could.

Setting his book on the coffee table, Noctis got up and circled around to Prompto’s chair. Perching on the arm of the chair, he slipped his hand across the man’s shoulders. “You okay?” he asked, voice low.

Heart pounding hard in his chest, Prompto couldn’t even nod as he stared at the image of the woman. Wide eyes locked on the picture, the same fear and pain he experienced in his dream trickling through him. Everything around the picture faded out of focus and black ooze dribbled from her right eye. The image shifted as she turned to look directly at him. That same fury he saw before burned in her good eye.

Prompto spat out a curse, shooting out of his chair and rubbing his hands over his face. “Guys, I can’t. She’s in my head and she’s—” Sighing out a heavy breath, Prompto disappeared into the bathroom.

Noctis glanced at Ignis, eyes filled with concern.

“Gladio, may I see that book, please?” Ignis held out his hand, lips pursed. “I believe with these two books, I have plenty of research to do. Perhaps you should take Prompto out, help him relax.”

“I’ll stay here and help,” Gladio stated.

“You sure you want to let us off the hook?” Noctis asked, clasping his hands between his knees as he met the man’s eyes.

“There is no hook to be let off of,” Ignis replied. “We have two books and four sets of eyes. Prompto is clearly disturbed by what he saw, so I won’t force him to help. And you are a greater source of comfort to him than either of us. That eliminated two superfluous sets of eyes.”

Noctis blinked. “Wow. Cold.”

“Just take the kid out for a few hours. Stop arguing.” Gladio told him with a shake of his head.

Crossing his arms, Noctis slowly rose to his feet and narrowed his eyes. He flicked a glance toward the bathroom door. “You trust us alone together?”

“You and I both know how little any of us pay attention to that rule, so I will redact it. However, that being said, I trust you to understand appropriate boundaries. Remember, those are not your bodies to do with as you please.”

Chest swelling with a deep breath, Noctis dipped his head. “Got it. You don’t have to worry about us doing anything like that.”

“Good. Go enjoy yourselves, Highness. Gladio and I will do what we can here.” Ignis offered a half smile before turning his attention back to the books. Looking at the lines of text without actually seeing it, he listened to Noctis coax Prompto out of the bathroom, then leave the suite.

“I get kicking Prompto off research duty, but why Noctis?” Gladio asked when the door closed behind the pair.

Handing one book over to Gladio, Ignis met his gaze. “Between what happened this morning, and the way Prompto is behaving now, His Highness’ concentration is severely lacking. His attention is better suited to calming Prompto at the moment.”

“What did happen this morning?”

“Do you recall the events which led to my not speaking to you for two days?”

Brow knit in a frown, Gladio thought for a moment. When he located the memory, his face lit up with a bright grin. “Oh, yeah! It was worth it. That was a good night.”

“Noctis experienced those events through a dream.”

Gladio’s jaw dropped.

“He was rightly upset.”

“W-w-what do you mean by experienced?” Gladio stuttered out, swallowing hard.

Ignis’ cheeks flushed as he cleared his throat. “He’s in my body, Gladio.”

“And he was with me in the dream. No wonder he wanted to avoid Prompto,” Gladio groaned. “We need to fix this now. I really don’t want to deal with something like that.”

“Then I suggest you start reading.”

Nose wrinkled up at the prospect of having a dirty dream in the role of Prompto, Gladio opened his book again. Turning the page away from the portrait of the woman, a new face greeted him. This was an official-looking image, like one used in records, or on ID badges.

“Hey, Ig?”

“Yes?”

Gladio put the book on the coffee table and spun it toward Ignis. “Does he look familiar to you?”

Ignis studied the image for a moment. “Yes, I do believe I’ve seen this man before. He was a member of the Crownsguard under King Mors, was he not?”

“Yes! That’s where I saw him. Hall of Records,” Gladio answered with a nod. “My dad made me study up on notable members of the Guard. Mors favored him because he was some sort of magic prodigy.”

Ignis quickly flipped through his book, finding a section pertaining to the skills of the man known as Timorea Gelida. “How unusual,” he muttered, scanning the page.

“What?”

“As we all know, only members of the royal family and those blessed by the family can use the power of the elements. Timorea, with no connection to the throne, was able to use magic from a young age.”

“You can use magic, too,” Gladio pointed out.

“I believe my skills come from my close connection to Noctis and His Majesty. It is also theorized I may be very distantly related to the Lucis Caelum line,” Ignis replied.

“Maybe it’s the same for Timorea?”

“I suppose it’s possible. There had to be many branch families over the years. Either way, the fact that he can use magic isn’t the unusual part. He can only use one of the elements. Apparently, he was very strongly tied to ice elemancy.”

“That’s…weird.”

Ignis nodded. “I cannot say I’ve ever heard of such a case. Even members of the Glaive, who tend to favor certain elements, still have the ability to use others.”

Gladio scoffed. “Did he make some deal with the Glacian?” he joked.

“At this point, I won’t rule anything out.”

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thegirlsinthefirehouse · 7 years

Text

Descendants, Chapter 29

-----

After breakfast, Abby’s parents excused themselves from the group to do a little extra Christmas shopping.

When Holtz’s dad got up and got his jacket, Holtzmann got really confused.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Mmhmm,” said Dean. “And so are you.”

Holtz’s face scrunched up in thought. “But I didn’t plan anything?”

“I did,” he said, smiling. “Come on.” Holtz went and got her jacket and headed into the bathroom where Abby was getting out of the shower. She had said she needed to relax in the hot water after breakfast. Holtz kissed her on the lips before leaning down and kissing her growing abdomen. Abby rubbed her cheek.

“Go have fun with your dad sweetie.”

“How did you--?”

“A wild guess,” said Abby, smiling. She had been that way most of the morning so far. Holtz wanted to stay in and enjoy more of that smile, but New York and her dad were calling.

“Don’t touch the presents!” she yelled back after slipping on her jacket and heading out of the bedroom. She heard a small huff that made her cackle before following her dad down the stairs.

-----

Holtz was ready to start munching on a cheese steak (extra caramelized onions and lots of provolone) after her and her dad got seated at the restaurant with a couple of beers and an order of bacon cheese fries to tide them over until their food arrived. They had been out in the city for most of the morning, doing some last minute shopping for Dean’s friends back home and sightseeing a little. Holtz had enjoyed showing him all the intricate store windows and the Christmas trees around the city.

“I miss my car,” laughed Dean. “It’s been a good while since I’ve had to walk this much.”

“At least it’s not a really cold day,” said Holtz as she looked around the place. She nodded to Ted behind the bar, who waved in return. “No ice on the sidewalks.”

“And you don’t have to go take care of any ghosts,” said Holtz’s dad. Holtzmann nodded.

“I hope we don’t get any emergency calls over the next few days. Abby and I are the only ones here in the city.”

“Things will go smooth enough,” said Dean. He cleared his throat. “Getting scared, excited?”

“Frankly? Terrified,” Holtz admitted. “There’s a new little life that’s going to be dependent on me to teach it how to use a pencil and a toilet.”

Dean chuckled. “I know the feeling. Your mom did all the hard work for me, I suppose.”

“Nah, you taught me how to use a screwdriver. And a crock pot.”

“Do you even use one?”

“The screwdriver? All the time.”

“Smart ass,�� grinned Dean. Holtz laughed.

“Babies are hard,” the older man said. “You don’t know if they’re hungry, thirsty, or just tired. And sometimes they don’t know.”

“At least with food I can hand them off to Abby for a while.”

“Abby is going to breastfeed?” asked Dean.

“She thinks it’ll be better for them in the long run. She wants to give them a high quality of life in the beginning. At some point in the future, they’ll be living on a diet of Chinese, coffee, Pringles, and gummy bears. Also large quantities of mac and cheese, along with many bowls of Trix.”

Dean nodded. “The old classic stand-bys.”

Holtzmann started picking at the bacon cheese fries with a slight grimace. “Did you enjoy being a parent to me? I know...”

“I would trade nothing in the world for it,” said Dean, breaking in. “You and your mother were the most important things in my life. You were so tiny Jillian. I was almost afraid to hold you at first. I thought I was going to drop you.”

“Did you? Because I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. It would explain some things.”

“No,” laughed Dean. “But there were times when you got older that you were just... exasperating and we might have felt like it. Especially to your mom when you kept wearing my shirts to school and they’d have grease and grass stains on them by the time you got home. I never did care about that part. They were clothes and you loved them. But she felt like we were setting a bad example that way.” He looked at his daughter’s clothing choices with a smile.

“I think we did okay.”

“You did perfectly. There will never be another one of me.”

“I think the Earth will be all the more glad of it,” chuckled Dean Holtzmann in a teasing tone. Their lunch arrived and they both dug into their sandwiches, enjoying the hot beef and melting provolone.

“I see why you like this place.”

“Yeah, it’s one of Patty’s finds. I think it just amuses her the place is called Shorty’s.” Holtzmann leaned back in her chair.

“You doing anything new at work dad?”

Dean wiped his mouth on a napkin after putting down his sandwich.

“I’m working with a tech company that’s working with one of the fabric companies I consult for. They’re wanting to develop an app that would allow a customer to choose the fabric they want based on some predetermined patterns and colors. But they can edit it to their liking, which is nice.”

“Sounds like you’re going to be busy.”

“If you’re asking if I’m going to be too busy to come back down to see my grandchild, that would be a no. Only the snow and ice could keep me away.”

“We can always come back for more sandwiches,” said Holtz, stacking some of the fries in her sandwich. Dean scoffed and shook his head.

“Alright, but I’m buying next time,” he took a sip of his beer. “I want a real pastrami sandwich piled high with lots of pickles.” He paused. “I’m not going to get any younger.”

“Nah, you’re just getting started,” said Holtz, waving her hand dismissively. Dean grabbed her hand across the table, shaking his head.

“I wanted to tell you, Jillian. I met with a lawyer and went ahead and drew up my will in October. You-- well, you know all the details. We’ve discussed this before. It’s in the safe in my bedroom, along with all the other important paperwork.”

“Dad--” began Holtzmann, grimacing.

“All my wishes are in there,” said Dean. “I know it’s something you don’t want to hear right now, but I need you to know this for in the future. And I’m planning on keeping it in the future. The FAR future, okay? I’d like to see my grandchild graduate with their Ph.D.’s in... whatever and start building the first spaceship to carry people outside of the Milky Way or solve world hunger.”

“Abby’s hoping for first alien contact.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Dean, picking up his sandwich.

“You’d better eat before you lose that to me.”

Holtzmann laughed. “Just like old times.”

“I gained a lot of your sandwiches that way.”

“Nah, I stole them back when you weren’t looking.”

Dean smiled to himself, knowing that he had looked away on purpose. He took a sip of his beer.

-----

Cynthia Yates came back to the firehouse a little early, leaving her husband to wander the streets of Tribeca a little while longer. Abby had given them her key that morning to the firehouse so they could come and go as they wished for the day. She had wondered what Abby was going to do, but her daughter hadn’t let her in on her plans. Cynthia had barely closed the door when she noticed Abby sitting at the long conference table in the space downstairs. She had stacks of paper surrounding her. They looked mostly like notes. Abby was writing furiously in a moleskin notebook and grimacing. An old boom box sat nearby, lightly playing soft Christmas tunes.

“Abby,” she said, trying to get her daughter’s attention as she walked up to the table.

“Mom,” she said after a moment, blinking as she looked up. “Sorry I was--”

“You were busy,” said Cynthia, sitting down. “I assume this is all for a new book?”

Abby shook her head. “Erin and I have been talking about trying to redo the ghost classification system. It needs updating. Since we have the containment unit and the ability to study each specimen, we’ve compiled a lot of a data over the past few years.” She gestured to the piles. “We think we can do it. The only thing is how everyone else is going to receive it.” Cynthia skimmed over the notes that she could see and crossed her arms, sitting back in the chair.

“I think the scientific community will take it very well. They like order. The paranormal groups, probably not so much.”

“They haven’t taken to liking us very much no,” said Abby, rubbing her face. “They don’t like the publicity we receive. It’s not like we actively go out and seek it.”

“I still say that they should have given you and Erin all the accolades for the stuff you have theorized and tested,” said Cynthia. “You have proven there is such a thing as a ghost particle. You have been to another plane of existence and back again, proving it with theory and physical evidence. I keep expecting to get a phone call from you one day in the near future asking me if I’m ready to believe that magic is real.”

“Still working on that,” said Abby, a small smile on her lips. Things went silent for a few minutes, Christmas tunes taking over the in-between. Cynthia Yates had always been one for science. Having been a chemist, she liked knowing things were concrete in front of her. Otherwise, you had disastrous results. She had never been able to understand her daughter growing up. She had been way too much into the fantastical. Her husband had encouraged it, even helped buy her books and such for her to learn more. But the more Cynthia had tried to steer her away from it, the more she wanted it. It had taken a fight with her husband to finally let go.

And once she had, she realized her daughter thought much like her. She believed in science and facts and loved her math and science classes. She had even wanted her mother to teach her more about everything in the evenings. The only difference was that Abby still believed in the paranormal and the existence of other things in this world besides humans and the animals that had been seen. Cynthia had never been able to bring herself to believe in what her daughter did, and had been slightly disgusted when Abby and her best friend Erin had set out to write a book about ghosts the summer after they had graduated college. She felt guilty now that she had even sold her copy of their book back to the bookstore. Her husband had kept his at least.

Abby’s mom picked up one of the stacks of papers. She couldn’t understand anything that was going on, but she really didn’t have to. This was Abby’s life’s work. She herself had been a whistleblower and knew the need for concrete results. It made her proud that her daughter and her friends were a whole damn marching band on the subject of the paranormal.

And wife. That had been startling at first. Especially since her daughter’s wife was a nuclear engineer whose mind was so brilliant that she was surprised even with the incident at CERN that someone didn't have her on their salary. The things she could invent would make them millions upon millions in revenue and would change the world.

But instead, Jillian had settled for being her daughter’s assistant and eventual girlfriend. Although she had never told the woman, she had been grateful that Jillian had come into Abby’s life. Erin’s departure had hit her hard and the hits just kept on coming after that. It had been a rough few years for Abby and her determination to explore the paranormal.

Cynthia Yates admired her daughter’s strength and always would. Especially right now. She couldn’t imagine being pregnant at 44. It had been hard enough in her 20’s. She had noticed that Abby had kept touching her baby bump as to reassure herself the other evening. She had done the same thing with Austin, but he had been a difficult pregnancy. Even the slightest movement had made her feel better. She wondered if it was the same for Abby.

“Mom, do you need something?” asked Abby, getting her attention away from her thoughts. “Coffee, a snack?”

“Coffee would be great,” said Cynthia casually. “Is there a pot down here?”

“Over there at that station behind Kevin’s desk,” said Abby. Her mom nodded and headed over that way. “You’re going to have your grandchild kicking me by the way. I think they respond to the way the smell makes me feel and they get excited.”

“Must be the caffeine rush,” said Cynthia, looking for the scoop for the coffee. “They might need it as much as we do.”

“Yates family tradition huh?”

“I drank way too much of it when I was working. Probably why you and Austin both guzzle it.”

“Like Dad didn’t help at all,” laughed Abby.

“Abby,” said Cynthia. “How are you, really? You haven’t really said much, not even to your father.”

Abby eyed her mother with uncertainty. “It’s kind of hard to talk to Dad about swollen feet and aching hips.”

“I know he’s not going to be able to much of a help, but... you could talk to your father Abigail. We’ve both been concerned about genetics. How is the baby?”

Abby’s arm went across her stomach. “Fine. Good, actually. No problems. The doctor ordered extra tests and everything’s been okay. And we’re keeping an eye on my blood pressure and blood sugar and nothing’s been bad so far. I worried a lot about a miscarriage in the early days. You can ask Holtz. 50% of women over the age of 42 on average have miscarriages in the first trimester. I... worried a lot. Although I don’t know how I fit it in between bouts of nausea.”

“And you’re still having those, aren’t you?”

The smell of coffee wafted through the room, making Abby want a cup. But she had already had one with breakfast, and she was limiting herself to only one till after the baby was on solid foods. She nodded.

“Not as often, but they’ve pretty much been a constant on this whole... journey.”

“I feel like I’ve missed out on so much being in Michigan.” She came over and surprised Abby when she put a hand on the side of her abdomen. “I could be here for you.”

“You’ve done a lot Mom,” said Abby.

“I don’t feel like I’ve done enough,” said Cynthia. “I feel like I’ve done more for Ariel and you’re my actual daughter.”

Abby shook her head. “Mom, Ariel had five with Austin. We’re only having one.”

“Is that all?”

“For the moment, yes,” said Abby. She pushed her mother’s hand a little bit towards her right side, where their little one she was pretty sure was trying to burrow itself in her organs. She had a feeling in the future their child would probably be making a nest of blankets on their bed and never coming out. Her mother laughed softly.

“Moving quite a bit.”

“Tell me about it,” grimaced Abby. She looked up and saw her dad enter the space with a couple of bags, just like Abby’s mom had. He smiled when he saw his wife and daughter together.

“Coffee?” said Abby.

“Always,” said Doug. Cynthia went to pour them a couple of cups. Abby was grateful for the distraction. Maybe her dad could keep her mom occupied till time for their lunch reservations.

-----

Abby was yawning by the time Holtzmann came back into the living room. It was Christmas Eve, not too long before midnight. They had hoped to get a few minutes to themselves before Christmas morning and exchanging gifts with their family. Everything was piling up under the tree, and it was going to be fun getting everything unwedged from each other in the morning.

“Merry Christmas,” said the blonde cheekily as she dangled the mistletoe above her head. Abby scoffed.

“And you think you can get a kiss because of that?”

“Oh, I know I can,” said Holtz, kissing Abby deep. The moan that left Abby’s mouth made Holtzmann grin when they pulled apart more than a few seconds later.

“Because I am the Casanova of the ladies. They all will bend to my will.” Abby waved her off.

“Just as long as they’re not bending tonight. You and I are going to bed and not moving for seven to eight hours and I’m going to hold you all night.” “Ah... Abby Yates, eternal cuddler is making an appearance.” Holtz pulled closer to Abby, rubbing her fingers through her pulled back hair as she curled into her side. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Mom’s feeling guilty so she’s trying to make me feel guilty. It’s not my fault New York is like a magnet for the supernatural.” Holtz thought for a second.

“So she’s wishing she has spent more time with you while you’ve been pregnant.”

“Apparently,” sighed Abby.

“Makes sense,” shrugged Holtz. “It is a mother-daughter bonding experience, I guess. You are sharing bearing a child. Maybe she feels like you should be coming to her more for advice?”

“Oh no,” said Abby. “That would be the end of everything. Then she’d want to dictate me on this and that, what to be doing, what to not to be doing...”

“Dad told me some good stories today,” said Holtz, cutting in to distract Abby. “About Mom being pregnant with me. He said I was very lazy. Doc thought something was the matter with me till I gave him a good kick while he was trying to see how much I had grown.”

“That does sound like something you would have done,” smiled Abby. “Surprised you didn’t kick him again when you were born.”

“Oh Dad said I screamed right in his ear when he was trying to check my breathing,” grinned Holtz.

“Of course,” said Abby, playfully rolling her eyes. Holtzmann rubbed Abby’s belly.

“And this little one is probably going to smile at all the nurses and charm them with all the Holtzmann suave they can muster even though they have no Holtzmann in them.”

“Someone’s got to,” said Abby. “I kind of doubt I’m going to be very much on the friendly side.”

“I wouldn’t be either if I was mostly naked, in pain, and pushing seven to ten pounds out of my body,” shrugged Holtz.

“Ugh,” said Abby, burying her head into Holtzmann. “Do we have to do that part?”

“I don’t think you can skip it Abs. It’s kind of a requirement.”

“Isn’t there an alternative assignment? A makeup exam?”

“Abby, did you EVER give a kid a makeup exam unless they were deathly ill?”

“I don’t want to do labor Jills.”

“You’re going to be fine,” said Holtzmann. “I’ll be there and there will be more than a few nurses to help out. I still can’t believe you let the doctor talk you out of the birth center.”

“It’s still on the table,” Abby said. “Depending on how my labor is going.”

“You might want to tell him that,” said Holtz. “He probably thinks you’re going to go to labor and delivery.”

“I think he’s worried about my blood pressure shooting up really high or developing pre-eclampsia and gestational diabetes. They can happen late in pregnancy.”

“Doctors are such worrywarts,” scoffed Holtz, nuzzling her wife. Though she worried about the same things too, she wasn’t going to tell Abby that. That would really put her wife over the edge and she really didn't want to have a stressed out and paranoid Abby on her hands.

“You want to open our main gifts?” said Abby. She looked at the time. “It is after midnight.” She smiled softly at her wife nuzzling her chest.

“I’d love to Abs, but I’m quite comfortable,” winked Holtz.

“I bought you a black leather case to match your jacket,” smirked Abby. “It has zippers.” Holtzmann perked up at that.

She gestured to the tree. “Yours is flannel. It came with a U-Haul.”

“A lesbian joke. Quaint.”

“I know, it’s the end of the year and I’m running out of material before my New Year’s reset.” Holtz reluctantly got up off the couch, skipping as she went over to the tree and picked up the stack of presents tied up with a ribbon.

“One for me...” She looked under the tree and picked up a big box. “And one for you.” She handed Abby the big box while she sat down beside her with the stack. “You already know what it is. Not like you haven’t been hinting for months.”

“You get a new toy and I get a new toy,” said Abby delightedly. She started unwrapping the box.

“Yes!” cried out Holtzmann beside her as she opened the first gift. “It has spikes!” <– Prev | Next –>

#yatesmann #ghostbusters 2016 #descendants fanfic gb

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thefatnoona · 7 years

Text

Monster Woo: 261 (pt. 2/5)

She could not ignore the incessant vibration under her pillow anymore. She had tried to pretend that it was just part of her dream but its rising intensity forced her to grab her handphone and answer the call. “Hi mum,” she greeted sleepily, her voice coming out rough from having just woken up.

“____, were you sleeping?” chirped her mother rather too brightly.

She cleared her throat. “Mmmhhmm. It’s…” she looked at the time on the phone. “…7.10 in the morning on a Saturday. I don’t have school today and it’s too early to wake up.”

“Ooops! Sorry sorry! How are you? How is everything so far? Is the apartment alright? Are you eating well? Are you having a hangover now?” her mother gabbled on cheerfully.

“Mum, I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” she groaned. “And no mum, I’m not having a hangover. I don’t even drink much.”

“Alright, alright. I know you’re a good girl. How is school so far? Have you made any friends?” her mother went on, anxiety creeping into her voice.

“Mum, I’m not 12! I’m almost 30!” she whined with exasperation. “I’m only here for a year, mum. I don’t need to make friends. It’s not high school.”

“____, I know you’re only there for a year but you’ll need someone to be there in case you need help. What if you fall sick and you need to see the doctor? What if you get drunk and you need someone to send you home? What if someone decides to stalk you from school?” her mother theorized.

“Mum, are you cursing me right now? This early in the morning? I cannot believe this,” she groaned. “Mum, I’ll be fine. I have a friend in my department. And I told you, I don’t drink much. I’ll probably skip all the Korean drinking parties.”

After spending ten minutes trying to convince her mother that she was smart and independent enough to take care of herself, they both said their goodbyes and ended the conversation. She crashed back onto her pillow, trying to return to sweet surrender, without much success. She kept tossing and turning every now and then, after which she rolled to her right and left her bed unwillingly, heading for the bathroom.

Half an hour later, a towel around her neck and her hair dripping wet, she was rummaging in the refrigerator for anything that could be considered as breakfast. Realising that there were only two bottles of water, a carton of nearly-expired milk and a packet of withered greens, she decided to get out to explore the neighbourhood and shop for groceries at the same time.

Starting from her apartment building, she crossed the street, eyeing a little coffee shop with its contrasting white-and-brown signboard and pretty red cups in the window. She stepped in, taking in the cosy table arrangement with rustic, country-style interior. There was no one else in the shop other than her and a young man at the counter. Spying her favourite caffeinated concoction on the menu, she marched up, mentally arranging her intended dialogue.

“어서오세요!” the barista greeted her cheerfully with bright eyes and dimpled cheeks. “뭐 드릴까요?”

“아이스 바닐라 라떼 한잔 주세요,” she said, pulling out some cash from her wallet.

“네, 3,500원 주세요,” he quoted the price of her iced vanilla latte. Receiving a crisp ₩10,000 note, he handed over the change and asked her politely to wait while he made her requested drink. “고객님, 여기 아이스 바닐라 라떼가 있습니다!” he called out five minutes later, handing over a full cup with an eye smile.

“감사합니다,” she responded gratefully, grabbing a straw and a napkin before settling down at a cosy corner for two. She decided to chill out with her drink and some music prior to her neighbourhood exploration.

Having secured her headphones firmly over her ears, she sipped her latte and switched on Google Maps on her phone. Her fingers worked their magic while Dean’s melodious voice worked its way to her soul. Her keen eyes behind the black rectangular frames, scanned and read the various locations that popped up on the screen. Soon, she was totally immersed in memorising certain shop locations and their directions.

She was so absorbed in music and map-reading that she did not notice a tall, muscular figure passing in front of her, taking a seat at an adjacent table. A steaming white cup before him, he peered at her from behind his trademark shades. Smirking, he edged closer and leaned towards her. “Hey,” his voice came out in a husky drawl. “Hey, Reading Girl.” And then he poked her shoulder with a ridiculously long finger.

“Huh?!” was all that she said when she looked up, startled to see his face with its chiseled features. She removed her headphones instantly. “아저씨! The driver for bus 261!”

“Yeah, yeah it’s me. I have a name, you know? Do you even remember it?“ he raised an eyebrow. “So, did you get home safe last night?” he asked lazily, changing the subject.

“Yes I did. Why wouldn’t I?” she retorted. She pushed back her glasses since they slipped a little.

“Why are you always so snappy? Geez,” he frowned. “Chill, will ya? I was just making small-talk.”

She looked away and cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I get cranky when I’m tired or hungry.”

“I guess you haven’t eaten yet, huh?” he said, nodding at her coffee. “Wanna grab some breakfast with me? Their pancakes are pretty good.”

“Is it your treat?” she eyed him suspiciously. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. I was just getting a caffeine boost before I get some groceries and make myself some breakfast at home. Thanks anyway.” She pressed her lips tightly together. Why did she just explain herself to him?

“Okay, right,” he nodded his head. “So you’re going to the mart after this?”

“Th-the mart?” she stuttered involuntarily, unsure of its name nor location despite having just studied the area.

“I can show you around if you like,” he offered, his voice coming out deep but sincere. “I know this area like the back of my hand since my mum lives around here.”

“Oh,” she just about managed. “Thank you…” How did he manage to make her feel guilty just like that?

“No problem about it. It’s not hard to see you’re new around here.�� He took a long sip of his hot Americano. “Where are you from? How long have you been in Korea?”

She stirred her latte and answered his first question. “And I’ve been here about two weeks? I just started school this week.”

“So you’re a student?” He smirked. “Figures, you look young.”

“Well, thanks…I guess.” And for the first time in the course of their interaction, she grinned. “I’m actually pretty old. Who knows, I’m probably older than you are.”

He gave a voracious laugh. “What year were you born in? You’re a 90s kid, right? Come on now, ‘95? ‘96? ‘97? Yah, you probably have to call me 오빠.”

“Excuse me? I hardly know you so I don’t think I need to call you that, no matter how much older you may be, 버스 아저씨,” she snapped, upping her attitude.

He did not seem to mind being called Bus Uncle in Korean. In fact, he simply laughed it off heartily. “Call me whatever you like. I think I’m still older than you though, so it’s fine,” he said with a smile, making him look more genial. “But seriously, you’re a 90s kid right? Which year is it? Early 90s?”

“What is the obsession with my birth year?” she groaned. “I don’t even know you Bus Uncle!”

“Well, you know my name,” he said quietly. “I’m just asking your birth year so I know how to address you properly.”

She glanced sideways at him, took a quick breath and muttered swiftly, “I was born in ‘87.”

He spluttered his coffee. “Say that again??”

“I’m an ‘80s kid. I was born in ‘87. There, are you happy now?” she rolled her eyes.

His eyes glinted in the morning sun and a slow smile was spreading slyly over his angular face. “Right, so you are younger than I am. You have to address me appropriately! Calling me 오빠 would be nice,” he added childishly.

She rolled her eyes again. “I think I’ll stick to 버스 아저씨 for now,” she replied, gathering her things and getting up.

He got up too, in a flash. “Where are you going? Are you leaving already?”

“Of course. I can’t hang around here all day. I still have to buy groceries and it’s already later than I expected,” she retorted.

“You’re going to the mart, right? I’ll take you there,” he offered, his left hand holding his cup while his right hand grabbed her wrist. “I don’t have anything on today.”

“아저씨!” she yanked her hand away, glaring at him. “Keep your hands to yourself!”

“Okay, okay, my bad,” he apologised, raising his right hand. “Don’t be mad. And smile a bit more. You look better when you smile.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “Can I take you there?”

“What? Is this a date?” she sneered as she threw her empty cup into the rubbish bin.

“Would you like it to be?” he grinned, following her out of the coffee shop.

“Look, 아저씨,” she stopped in her tracks and faced him. “I don’t know what you’re playing at but I’m not interested, okay? I have too much work to do and too little time. It’s my first week of school and I still have a year more to go until I finish my thesis. I don’t have time to do anything else. I don’t have time to make friends. I-I…” She stopped talking, feeling as if everything was spinning around her. The phone in her hand fell to the ground as she clutched at her heart, feeling it pounding violently in her chest. The air felt stuck in her throat, making her feel like vomiting. The world started to look as dark as night.

The last words she heard before she crashed, belonged to the muscular, tattooed man, who kept calling out to her. “Reading Girl! Reading Girl!”

#fiction #fic #monster woo #kim young woo

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