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sargeant-bxrnes · 3 years

Text

1 step forward, 3 steps back.

warnings: rafe being… rafe. drug mention & consumption, cursing, toxic relationship, sexual situations/implications, mental health issues. ANGST.

[AN: this is the first thing i’ve written, ever, so my apologies if it’s not flawless ; also, english is not my first language, that’s a warning on its own]

my requests are open btw

click for my master list

word count: 4.4K

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

“Hey,” you said in a soft tone as soon as Rafe picked up the phone, you were laying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey princess,” his tone was calm, but his voice was rough and raspy all together.

“How you doing?” you asked him, even though you’d seen him last night, up close.

“I’m doing great,” he replied in a surprisingly cheerful tone, which is weird this early in the morning. Rafe is not a morning person. “You sound tired.”

“I am tired,” you confirmed with a sigh. “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

“My pleasure.” he replied cockily, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear his proud smirk.

“So, what’s the plan today?” you asked in a casual tone, fidgeting with the edge of Rafe’s shirt, the one you wore to sleep.

“Uh, what do you mean?” he asked in a distracted tone, he sniffed subtly and coughed.

You knew what that meant, but still, you hoped it wasn’t what you deep down knew it was.

“Yeah, I mean—“ you said and made a brief pause. “Wanna go to the club? Maybe we can take a ride on the boat, you know, with food, alcohol... just us.”

“Can’t, I’m busy.” he said after a few seconds, if you didn’t know him better and his occasional mood swings, you would’ve said his tone was harsh.

"Really?" you asked in a soft tone, trying to disguise your disappointment with interest. "But I thought we were going out together today."

"Y/N, just because I'm your boyfriend it doesn't mean I have to be with you all the fucking time."

Okay, now he was definitely angry, you thought you said the right thing, but it still made him angry.

"Rafe-"

"No, Y/N. I have a life of my own, you know? Things to do besides you."

“That’s okay Rafe, I get it,” You said calmly, nodding your head softly. “Have fun today.”

Now you clearly heard the sound of him sniffing something and the sigh that left his lips after, and Barry’s voice in the background. “Don’t play the victim card on me, that’s not gonna work. I deserve to have some time off.”

“I didn’t,” you said softly. “And it’s okay baby, you’re right, you deserve to have some fun.”

“See? No need to be so fucking dramatic,” he said, his voice and words slurring. You? Dramatic? It was all him. “But don’t worry princess, I’ll drop by tonight and fuck the attitude out of you, yeah? That way I’m not just doing things with you, I’m doing you.”

And with such a vulgar comment and a harsh tone, Rafe hung up on you, leaving you completely dumbfounded and filled with incredulity.

What you did know for a fact, is that he would keep up his word. And judging by his tone of voice and how annoyed he was, you could already imagine the ache between your legs.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you started hooking up with Rafe, and what you were committing to when you agreed to be his girlfriend.

You know that man carries more problems than he shows, he prefers to make himself appear as the Kook prince who lives a life of partying and money; hiding all the things that were going on in his head.

However, there were times when his attitude made you doubt yourself.

You couldn't help but think, ‘What if one day I don't manage to calm him down?’ ‘What if one day he realizes that there is someone prettier, or hotter, or wealthier out there?’

And Rafe would get angry if you doubted yourself. He would complain to you about it, saying you had no reason to be insecure about your looks; if you are absolutely gorgeous, or to feel insecure about your personality; if you were the most genuine person he'd ever met, and you could make him laugh until he forgot all his problems.

But what really made him furious was when you had doubts about the relationship itself, about whether or not he was capable of leaving you for someone else. He took those doubts personally, as if he wasn't trying hard enough to show you how much you mean to him.

When in reality; you were doubting yourself.

'Cause it's always one step forward

You were preparing dinner for you and Rafe, your family was out for the weekend, and Rafe had decided to spend it with you.

Your hair was tied up in a bun, your attire consisted of nothing but your underwear and a shirt that used to be Rafe's, but you took it so long ago that it's yours now.

Music from your shared playlist played in the background, as you danced absentmindedly with a spatula in hand, extremely calm and enjoying time with your boyfriend.

Rafe could do nothing but stare at you with admiration, you are literally the only good thing in his life; his little piece of heaven. You are everything to him.

As soon as Dark Red by Steve Lacy started playing, you let out an excited gasp. That song in particular is Rafe’s and yours, like… if you two had to choose a song to describe your relationship, it would be that one. It represented how you two did not always have good times, but your love prevailed.

Seeing you this happy, comfortable and at ease with him made Rafe's soul happy. All his life, he had done nothing else besides make people angry, disappointed, terrified. But with you, everything was different.

You were so focused on swaying your hips to the music and singing, that you didn't notice when Rafe stood up and walked over to where you were.

It wasn't until he stood behind you, chest to back and with his hands on your hips, that you realized he was closer. His head was bowed, you could feel his breathing close to your ear, so he was able to murmur in your ear the lyrics of the song:

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe,” he sang in your ear, his voice a soft whisper as he wrapped his arms around your body and started to sway with you. “Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

The gesture quickened your heart to unsuspected levels, you felt your knees weaken as you pressed closer to his body, appreciating his closeness as he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“You know I love you so much, right?” he mumbled in your ear, as you closed your eyes and relished his presence.

“I love you too, baby.” you mumbled back, leaning your head against his chest, caressing one of his arms around your waist with your fingertips, and bringing your hand to his ash blond hair, stroking it softly.

and three steps back

“Why is he mad at you, again?” Topper asked you with a raised eyebrow, after witnessing Rafe utterly avoiding even looking at you when he walked into the room and then left without a word.

“Because I told Barry to not open the door if Rafe dropped by,” You replied with a shrug, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair. “And when Rafe tried to lash out on him, Barry said it all had been ‘Mrs.Country Club’s’ request.”

“And he’s mad at you because you don’t want him to get all fucked up?” Topper questioned next, trying to understand the situation. But he never knew what the fuck you two were up to.

“Yes, but it’s Rafe, are you surprised?” you said with a heavy sigh.

“No, not really,” Topper admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep up with him, Y/N.”

“I ask myself that all the time…” you said with a deep sigh. “But I love him, so I guess that’s the answer.”

“And? I mean, I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ Y/N, but he’s…” Topper trailed off, apparently looking for the right word.

“I know exactly how he is, Topper, I don’t need you to remind me. I already think about that way too much.”

You and Topper had easily assumed that Rafe was no longer around, since he seemed to be making his best efforts to avoid you.

But Rafe was there, and he heard everything. He’d heard Topper giving you bad advice (or what he considered bad advice) And he heard you, having doubts about why you loved him or stood by him at all,and it made him want to lash out again.

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

No, I don't understand

[+18. Really]

“Leave me alone!” his voice boomed in the room, his brows furrowed and the veins in his neck were popping out.

“Rafe—“ you tried once again, approaching slowly in an attempt to place a hand on his shoulder, but he waved it away aggressively.

“Leave-me-alone,” he said, pausing in between each word to emphasize on how much he meant it. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose had specks of white dust, his lips were dry and his voice was coarse.

You weren’t entirely sure what you could say to get him to calm down. Or if there was anything at all you could do.

Normally, what upsets him the most is Ward. His own father. Rafe has spent his whole life trying to prove he's a good son, to make his father proud, and Ward never appreciates his efforts, only notices the bad, and ignores Rafe's clear calls for help, has since Rafe was 10 years old, so he certainly wasn't going to pay attention to him now that Rafe finally had a steady girlfriend, someone who had willingly decided to help.

95% of the time, you managed to talk to Rafe before he decided to resort to intoxication. Most of the time just seeing you helped him calm down, hearing your voice soothed him, and your lips, your skin, put him in a state of peace.

But the other 5% is when Rafe resorted to alcohol and, above all, drugs.

When Rafe is upset and decides to get high, he only manages to become unstable, erratic and yes, aggressive if not handled with care.

In those situations, the best thing you can do, putting yourself first, is to give him his space. Let him screw himself as much as he wants for that day, and help him deal with the consequences the next day, while you listen to him lament his attitude.

Rafe always said he would quit the vice; claiming you were all he needed to calm himself down, that you made him feel at peace. And above all, that you weren't slowly killing him; on the contrary, every minute he spent with you made him feel more alive.

However, for one reason or another, he always came back to it. Whether it was at a party, because Kelce suggested it, or, as is almost always the case, when he's upset with his father and needs quick relief.

And usually, this ‘quick relief’ ends up with Rafe fucked up, big time.

Once he was convinced that you wouldn't try to intervene again, Rafe went back to his business. He turned to the table, and since he already had the line ready, he simply leaned over and inhaled it, throwing his head back, running his hand through his hair and exhaling as he closed his eyes.

You exhaled heavily, shaking your head as you stared at your feet. You knew he would struggle to quit, after all it is an addiction and he has to fight it, but sometimes you get the impression that Rafe doesn't want to quit, not really.

"Do you want to help me?" asked Rafe eventually, turning his head to look at you. You didn't know if it was a trick question or not, so you hesitated before answering. "Answer me."

"Yes, of course I want to, Rafe." you replied with your respective hesitations, wondering what he was up to.

"Come here then," he said, making a 'come hither’ sign with his fingers.

You took a hesitant step but stopped, your eyes narrowing as you analyzed Rafe, trying to determine his intentions.

He raised both eyebrows in your direction, in a silent question of whether or not you're going to go with him.

Eventually you walked over to where Rafe was, he smiled at you while biting his lip lightly. Without saying anything he approached you and kissed you; the drugs made his senses heighten, so the kiss was intense from the beginning.

So that's when it made sense to you what he wanted, he wanted you. Your most obvious thought is that he would use you to take out your frustration, put the drugs aside and, most likely, fuck you.

Your idea seemed to be the right one as soon as Rafe grabbed you by the waist, still with his lips on yours, left a little bite on your lip before pulling away; and without any problem, lifted you off the floor and placed you on the table.

It's something you wouldn't admit out loud,—mostly out of shame and guilt,—but this kind of sex with Rafe was the best, he's completely unrestrained, rough, full of stamina and teasing, and above all, possessive. And that, in combination with his attractiveness, always drove you crazy.

And honestly; if what he wanted was to fuck you to take out his frustration, you'd let him.

His kisses were hungry and his hands desperate, running all over your body without distinction, as if he didn't know where to start.

He parted his lips from yours, and left a kiss at the corner of them, on your jaw; and began to make a little trail of slow kisses down your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck made you bite your lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist to feel him closer.

You slid your hand under his shirt, caressing his defined abs and the sides of his body gently with the tips of your fingers, as he left little bites on your neck. Your hands slowly moved up, intending to remove his shirt, but Rafe was quicker and brought his hands to the edge of your shirt, causing you to stop your movements to raise your arms, so he could remove your shirt with ease. And so he did.

He parted his lips from your neck and stared at you, the hunger in his eyes made you feel a fire in the pit of your stomach that only he could put out.

Desperately, your lips connected again as he settled between your legs. One of his hands traveled to your neck, and he wrapped his fingers around it, pressing lightly to the sides. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; though he couldn't see it.

With just enough strength, Rafe used the grip he had on your neck to push you down onto the table, so that you were lying on top of it.

As soon as he leaned over the table, you could feel his breath over abdomen, so you bit your lip in anticipation for what was to come.

He began to leave slow, wet kisses on your abdomen, making a slow trail to the edge of your shorts. Your automatic reaction was to close your eyes and put a hand in his hair, stroking it gently.

What you didn’t know is that the fact that you closed your eyes had given Rafe an opportunity he couldn't miss. Without you noticing, he slid a hand to the side of the table, where the small bag of white powder was.

To conceal his actions, he unbuttoned your shorts, and returned his lips to the beginning of your abdomen for more time.

The little bite he left to distract your attention caused a gasp to escape your lips; and that sound almost caused him to change plans completely.

He did want to fuck you, don’t get him wrong. He even had a mental debate about whether to continue what he was doing or simply sink his head between your thighs and provoke more sounds like that.

But he wanted to try something first. He had always wanted to try it, but had never asked you, because he knew that you would most likely say no.

With ease, he slid your shorts down your legs; so that they stayed at your ankles or fell to the floor; he didn't care. One of his hands slid into your underwear with ease, his fingers going straight to where he knew you needed him the most.

Trusting that you would not open your eyes, carefully, he put the white substance on your body, so delicately you didn’t notice. He began to prepare to inhale, while biting his lip in reaction to the sinful sounds that left your lips.

And obviously, without warning, Rafe inhaled a line from your thigh.

And all your sounds stopped, your eyes opened and your expression was filled with surprise, the bad kind.

You couldn't believe what Rafe had just done, you felt like an idiot for falling into the trap.

You also had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a moan in reaction to what his fingers were doing in between your legs, but your pride forbade it.

But more than anything else, you were outraged.

“Rafe, you did not just—“

“It felt nice, yeah?” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, you could feel his breath over your skin, as he left little kisses around. “After all, I did feel you clench around my fingers.”

His dirty words, hoarse voice, and close proximity to your body, not to mention his fingers deep inside you, caused you to let out a soft moan, causing Rafe to smirk in what he thought was victory.

But you wouldn't let him win this little game.

Although you really didn't want to, you grabbed his hand by the wrist and pulled him away, your legs trembling slightly at the sudden lack of anything between them.

Rafe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as soon as you pushed him away from you and got off the table, lifting your shorts off the floor and putting them back on without a word.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, as you searched for your shirt, feeling his heavy gaze on your body.

"Y/N, where do you think you're going?"

“I’m leaving you alone as you asked me to, remember?” you said in irony. “Before you sniffed a line off me after I begged you to quit that shit?”

“Oh, so now you’re playing the victim?” his voice rose. “Don't- Don’t act as if you wouldn’t have let me fuck you less than a minute ago!”

"Yes I would have let you, to distract you from that shit!" you admitted to him, failing to control your anger. "I said I wanted to help you, to distract you, to give you something different to do. Not that I'd give you another place to snort lines from!"

Rafe knew you were right, of course he did.

You had spent months after months trying to get him to quit, you had offered him countless hours of your days to give him something new to do, distractions, attention and love. And this is how he had decided to pay you back?

But Rafe was angry too, very. You had interrupted him, you were yelling at him; and you had left him so hard, that it would start to hurt unless he did something about it.

“Fine, then get the fuck out of here.” Rafe spat, his anger clearly getting the best of him.

Your eyes widened at that, you hadn't expected him to react like that.

Your best case scenario would be that your attitude would piss him off, yes, but that he would retaliate by getting you back to the table and showing you everything you were missing.

Instead, he simply took your word for it and told you to get out of the room.

“What?”

“You heard me, get out.”

“Rafe—“

“You uh, you have three options, yeah? You let me fuck you over that table and do whatever I want, you get out of here, or I’ll get you out of here.”

The first offer was tempting, it really was, but you wouldn’t allow him to talk to you like that. Before anything, came respect and dignity, and no matter how much you wanted him to fuck you silly, you were too angry and disappointed at him to let it slip.

Blinking repeatedly to chase away the tears from your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the other end of the table, your jacket from Rafe's bed, and walked out of there without another word as you heard him calling your name.

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your relationship with Rafe was unique.

Not because of the circumstances in which it was created. A one-night-stand that turned into something casual, that was formalized after a dinner.

If not for Rafe.

You loved him, no doubt about it. You would give anything to see him happy and at peace, at peace with himself and succeeding in his life.

Rafe would do anything for you, really, anything. No matter how risky, demanding or dangerous, he would do anything for you.

He would die and kill for you.

But that surely didn’t mean it was an easy relationship, hell no. In fact, the willingness both of you had to do anything for each other sometimes made things too complicated; for at times it seemed that not a single rational thought crossed your minds.

And yes, Rafe’s addiction was a big issue. Whenever he was too high, or going through withdrawals, he wasn’t the Rafe you knew or had grown to love, it was another side of him you wanted to help get rid off. And the process wasn’t easy.

While trying to get clean; there was no way to know how he’d behave. He could either get clingy and want you around at all times to calm himself down, or he’d be in a very bad mood all the time, constantly snapping at you and raising his voice.

So there were days where he’d walk you to the door of your house and leave you there with a tender kiss and a smile.

Or days when you’d get out of his truck without a word, with tears streaming down your cheeks while he kept yelling for probably the stupidest thing.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

'It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Rafe knew he wasn’t okay. After all, he had begged his father for help, begged for anything that would get those thoughts to stop, but his father hadn’t listened, had only told him to ‘man up.’

You knew he wasn’t okay. Which is why you wanted to help him, to offer the support no one else had bothered to give him before he met you.

Whether he wanted it or not, those thoughts were still there. Being with you made them easier to ignore, but it’s not like they vanished entirely. He still had some ideas that made his own skin crawl.

And sometimes, you’d say or do the wrong thing and trigger those thoughts. And things got bad again for him.

Rafe knew you wanted nothing but to help him get better and be the best version of himself, and he really wanted to give you that. To change and make an effort. Not only for himself but for you. He wanted to be a man worthy of your love.

But it was hard to be anywhere near decent when you two went out and a guy stared at you for longer than Rafe’s limits allowed, or when guys tried to hit on you, when his friends got a little bit too close for his comfort.

Whenever he got jealous, he turned into a walking, talking ticking bomb. Anything could, and would set him off.

It wasn’t your fault, not really, but most of the time you felt it was. You knew Rafe dealt with a lot of insecurities already, of not being a nice person, not being good enough and so many other things. And you hated being one of the factors that caused his insecurities to arise.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

It was a complicated relationship, and it would probably never stop being complicated because both of you are complex people, plus there are other factors that affect the relationship.

But that didn't mean either of you would stop fighting to keep it alive. Neither would let the other go.

Rafe utterly refused to ever let you go. He loved you as he had never loved anyone, as he never thought himself capable of loving with that twisted heart of his.

You are, without exception, the best thing in his life, the best thing that ever happened to him. And you being in his heart was slowly turning him into who he had wanted to be during all those years of loneliness.

And you would never let him go, because you loved him with all your heart, soul and nerve of your body. And because you know that no one will ever love you like him. With so much passion, intensity, honesty and purity.

Because every feeling Rafe expressed with you was true; he was himself with you. And you didn't want to let him go.

Even if the two of you went one step forward, and three steps back, that single step would be longer than any step life makes you take backwards.

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mammons-tax-returns · 3 years

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comforting you about your body insecurities pt. 1

beelzebub, mammon, lucifer

:) ! first post back!! (rest of the brothers coming later)

🧋MALE MC🧋

Lucifer is a very attentive demon, despite being busy with his nose shoved in a stack of papers around the clock

He really does find you wonderful, both just to relax with and to admire.

And he’s known that you piqued his interest ever since you appeared before him in the stuco room. And this is LUCIFER. He normally doesn’t give any human a second glance. Unless ur some powerful and dangerously talented sorcerer with white hair 🤧but that aside

Tonight, he gets a break from Diavolo’s workload because there is yet another ball being held at the castle.

He sprays a faint but expensive cologne on his skin, quietly hoping that you would like and comment on it so he could respond with some flirty line. That would be nice, he thinks.

Then, he’s taking long strides leading out of his bedroom, and heading over to yours beside the kitchen, where he hears his siblings bickering over the best fruit.

He knocks on the door first, waiting for a response that never comes. He only hears your favorite song from within.

He calls your name, only becoming more confused the longer the silence grows

When he pushes open the door, he’s nearly relieved to see you standing in front of the body mirror, fixing the the collar of your outfit. You turn to look at him offer a smile. “Hey, Luci. You’re punctual, as usual.”

He hums under his breath in response. A silent “i know”. He pads over to you, placing a hand on your hip affectionately. “You look good enough to eat, handsome. Asmodeus may have his moments but he certainly knows how to dress anyone with anything.”

You look at your own eyes in the reflection, not able to respond entirely. Lucifer means well, you’re sure of it. He doesn’t know that the past hour of preparation for the ball was spent scowling at the parts of you that you could never quite enjoy entirely.

Lucifer looks questioningly at your expression from the mirror. “y/n? Is something the matter?”

At that, you snap back to reality and look back at him. “Huh? Oh... Right— Sorry, I just,” you trail off, at a loss for words. Was this the right time to mention your thoughts, before a ball? “It’s nothing, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows knit in the way that they tend to do when he worries. “Mind sharing? I’d love to sit and listen.” His hands slide around your waist until he’s hugging you, and you catch a whiff of his cologne which makes you melt. Once again you wonder if this relationship was something you deserved.

“Luci...”

“Don’t give me that, lovely. I said I’d like to listen, no?” As you turn your head away, he takes the opportunity to rest his head on the crook of your neck.

You sigh, smiling hopelessly. You hate to admit it, but his response makes you feel jittery on the inside. “It’s silly really, I just wasn’t feeling myself just now. The clothes are amazing! But...” You know exactly what you’ll say next, but the words feel venomous in your mouth. “I’m wondering if Asmodeus understands how wasteful it is to put them on me, you know?”

Lucifer is at a loss, and his heart aches at your words. “Oh dear... Well that’s no good. I can’t have my gorgeous lover worrying himself over something that’s so far from the truth.”

You are already aware that Lucifer will always support you no matter what, and the thought is both heart warming and bothersome. “Yeah, yeah, Lucifer... I’ve heard it all alr-“

“Then what do you not understand?” Lucifer cuts you off promptly and confidently. “Do you really believe that I’d sugarcoat this? Anything?”

You swallow thickly. “N-... No. You wouldn’t...”

“Good. That’s a good response.” He places a sweet kiss on your cheek, ruby eyes flitting up to your own gaze in the mirror. “I’m almost afraid of other demons trying to steal you away in such a dashing outfit, to be honest. Enjoy yourself, but if any of my brothers try anything, I swear...”

You laugh a little, running a free hand through his hair and noting how he almost sinks into your touch. Almost like a cat. “Thank you, Lucifer. For everything.”

Lucifer kisses your hand softly. “You are perfection, darling.”

You look forward to slow dancing alongside the eldest brother now, losing yourself in the music. Lucifer was right, there was really nothing to worry yourself over.

Mammon, unfortunately, had to cancel date night plans for the weekend for a modeling gig.

You were disappointed, but not mad at him. He told you in advance, offered to make up for it, and usually tries his best to uphold his promises.

He offers to bring you with him, guilty at the thought of your alone in your room.

You don’t know whether to accept it or not. Would you fit in on a set full of gorgeous, picture-perfect demons?

Mammon has his hand on the back of his neck, nervous that you’re too angry at him to want to say yes.

To his delight, you smile and agree to go with him. Maybe, this way, he can avoid others flirting with him when they know that his boyfriend would be in the room.

At first, it makes you feel a little bit happier seeing Mammon light up with joy after seeing him pout like a puppy moments ago.

The day has come that you step onto the modeling floor. The photographers and staff know you well due to Mammon’s insistent bragging about you and your relationship. Clutching your D.D.D. anxiously, you make your way over to Mammon, who is already posing for a camera under bright studio lights.

You keep to the shadows as you watch him intently. Mammon is well known for his idiocy, but he is one handsome devil.

The evil snickering of two demons sound behind you, to which you ignore. You were too nervous to actually move, anyways.

Whatever... It doesn’t concern me... Right?

The giggles don’t stop, and you can’t help but listen in on their whispers. It sounds as if they purposely spoke louder than normal just to bother you.

“Look at how his eyes are shining... Obsessed with Mammon, much?” Oh boy. It really seems like they’re talking about...

“Let’s talk about those clothes, though... Are you kidding me... Does the human world really have that low of standards— or is this the bottom of the barrel.” At that, the two burst into a fit of cackles.

Luckily, a photographer hisses at them, irritated with the noise breaking his concentration. They quiet down, but continue to berate you in ways you had never even considered.

You’re sweating bullets now, itching to use your hand to wipe the oncoming tears of embarrassment. You blink them away, and don’t notice that your boyfriend is now finished with his shoot.

You tense upon seeing him speaking to the camera tech. Your heart nearly jumps out of your throat. The last thing you needed was him seeing you cry right now. He’d be worried sick.

Not even bothering to excuse yourself, you slip into the bathroom and can only focus on the laughter of the other demons behind you. The sound causes you to shake slightly as you shut the door behind you.

There is more than one stall, so you briefly worry that someone would come in and find you bawling your eyes out in the middle of a semi-professional setting. You sigh heavily and turn the sink on to wash your face.

The more you stood in front of the sink rubbing your face, the more vividly you remember the rude comments made about you. Could they have been true?

With a troubled look, you sneak a glance at yourself in the mirror.

You didn’t think that your clothes were particularly “bad”... They said so much, and it’s all coming back like a vicious and cruel tsunami.

No matter what you do, you can’t seem to stop crying.

“Oh y/n!!~ Where are ya’ at?” Mammon crashes through the door, hands on his hip with a toothy and closed-eye grin.

Thinking quickly, you reach over to grab a hand towel and press your face into it. “H-Hey, Mammon, you looked good out there...”

Mammon must have picked up on your wavering tone, because he pauses.

You’re frozen on the spot when he places a hand on your shoulder, although you can’t see him through the towel.

“Uhh... What’s up with you? Don’t tell me that you’re...” It’s too late to react when he pushes the towel aside to find your teary eyes.

“Wh-What?!” His heart drops immediately. “What’s wrong babe?! Are you like... I dunno hurt or something?!”

You exhale shakily, still trying to calm yourself. “Those models out there are just... A little too honest about me, I s-suppose... But it’s really fine. I just... I don’t know... I guess I just needed a minute to... Freak out a little?”

“Honest? What the hell do you—“ A sudden feeling of recognition pulled at his features. Truth be told, he knew those demons personally, having worked with them before. Then the guilt of knowing exactly what happened began to eat away at him. “Oh...”

You shifted, wishing that he would drop the subject. This was getting much too embarrassing to bear, and the way his eyes drooped with sadness made your stomach churn. “Mammon. I-I’m serious, I’m okay—“

Mammon’s arms surround you like a sturdy, calming veil.

“I know you’re not, y/n!” Mammon had no desire to listen to you pretend to act unbothered. “I don’t know what they’ve told you, but I can guarantee that I have been given comments just as bad as those- and I’m The Mammon.”

You grip onto his shirt, avoiding making eye contact with him. “But... That’s the thing Mammon. I’m not nearly as confident or perfect as you.”

Mammon holds you tighter, voice softening drastically. “Don’t you think that’s exactly what I think of you when you comfort me on my bad days?”

A pool of warmth starts to seep from the depths of your chest. And your furrowed brows start to relax. “Really..? You mean it?”

“y/n, you are precious to me, and all of my crazy ass brothers. And there is no way in hell that I’ll allow some scum of the world get in the way of realizing how flawless you are.”

Beel wants nothing more than to spend every second of the day with you. And Belphie.

But unfortunately, most of his time is spent in the gym, if not the kitchen.

So he asks you if you would like to start working out with him at the gym, or even if you were just interested in hanging around and nothing more. He just wanted your presence.

The idea itself made your heart swell. But after a bit of thinking, you weren’t so sure. You’ve never been to a gym in Devildom before, but you were sure it wasn’t very different from human gyms.

It would be filled with confident and toned bodies that would put you down without even trying.

And as much as you wanted to be there with Beel, you weren’t ready for the prospect of the nasty looks you’d receive sitting beside the sixth-born who is a perfectly sculpted athlete.

After all, he seemed a bit too good for you, as it seemed in your head.

Beel wonders why you turned him down. Had he done something to upset you?

He’d have to get down to the bottom of it, lest he regret ignoring your behavior.

To do this, he takes a day off from the gym, thinking that the answer to this situation would be to spend time together. Smiling to himself, he clutches a bag of sweets to his chest.

y/n has got to love this, he thinks excitedly.

Knocking once, he can barely keep himself from barging in and tearing into his baked goodies. “y/n, I’m here. Wanna share these cookies with me? There’s also pound cake and cupcakes... The mini ones with enchanted apples on them.”

His smile falls a little when there’s a long note of silence. “y/n?” He questions.

“Oh! Uh... Sorry, Beel... Maybe another day. I’m studying for that final right now.” Beel knows you sound sincere, but something about this response seems off.

His heart sinks a little, feeling a little embarrassed after being rejected. He hadn’t expected this.

“Ah... Are you sure?”

“...”

There’s a silence from the other side of the door, and the sixth born starts to genuinely worry.

Truth be told, you had been weeping alone looking through images of famous demon athletes that advertised the same gym that Beel attended regularly. It was a dangerous thing to do, but how could you look away?

You take a glance at yourself in the mirror. your eyes were barely puffy. A bit red too. But overall, nothing seemed very different. Maybe— Just maybe, he wouldn’t even notice.

“Hello? You in there?”

You stiffen at the sound of his voice.

“Coming!” Hopping to your feet, you rush to the door and open it.

“Oh man, I was starting to get antsy smelling this bag... Let’s hurry and dig in.” His eyes are trained on the food in his hands, and his mouth is watering.

“Oh, Beel... You have some drool again!” You lightly scold him and wipe the corner of his mouth with a napkin from the table right beside the door.

At that, he finally gets a good look at you.

“Oh, thank y—... ou...” He trails off instantaneously. “Your eyes...”

You sigh and bow your head sheepishly. “Agh... I should’ve known you’d catch me. It’s not anything serious, I just was... I was watching a sad movie is all.”

His eyebrows knit together. “So were you studying or watching a movie?”

He caught me.

He pushes forward, closing the door behind him and taking your hands in his. He leaves the bag abandoned on the floor.

“y/n... What’s been up with you lately? You’re seriously not yourself.”

Your face flushes, and you sigh. Your throat suddenly feels tight. “Uh... That’s...”

He’s noticed this entire time. I’m an idiot.

“Listen, Beel...” You squeeze his hand. “I’ll tell you because I know that if I don’t, you’ll be worried sick.”

He nods hurriedly, heart rate increasing.

“I guess I just...” The words struggle to make their way out. “I don’t understand how-how someone like you; handsome, kind, and strong could end up with...” You pause, starting to tear up. “With someone like me.”

Beel takes a moment to process your situation.

And when he does, his head starts to spin, and his heart feels heavy like a boulder.

“y/n... What are you even thinking?” Is all he manages to whisper. He pulls you into a tight, comforting hug and sniffles.

“Beel—“

“You mean literally more to me than anything or anyone else.” He says firmly. “I don’t know what part of you you’re so hung up on, I couldn’t even imagine there being any reason to be.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I do.” He cuts you off firmly. If he didn’t, you may try to deny his definite truth. “y/n, I know i’m all about food and training... I’m sorry I don’t know how to make you realize how wonderful you are.

But I’d like to learn that with you. Is that okay?”

Your tears finally fall, soaking through his tank top.

“Of course... I’d love that.”

#obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me male reader #obey me headcanons #obey me swd #om

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annab-nana · 3 years

Text

One Love, Two Mouths - Sarah Cameron

Now that your close friends and family know, you had to keep up the lie that it was Scarlet you were after when really it was her best friend your eyes were on and being at a New Year’s Eve party with her there proved to be harder than you had anticipated.

A/N: This is the second part to Sweater Weather so make sure you have read that already if you haven’t :)

Warnings: some curse words; mentions of alcohol and drinking

Word Count: 3.5k+

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

<- Part 1

It would not be you and Rafe if you both hadn’t woken up in the middle of the afternoon after staying up way too late watching movies and joking around. When you felt something blowing in your face, you opened your eyes to see how seriously close Rafe’s face was to your own.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, shaking his body lightly with your hand on his shoulder. “Scoot the fuck back.” You would have moved him yourself, but he was much larger and if you pushed against him, you were sure you would end up pushing yourself off the bed considering how little room he had provided you.

“Whaaa?” he dragged out as he barely moved and kept his eyes closed. You went against your better judgment and tried to push him yourself, but you should’ve listened to yourself. He did not move an inch, but you overestimated the amount of space you had on your side of the bed and felt the mattress slip from beneath you. Your arms reached out to grab onto something, anything, but they caught nothing, and you landed on the ground with a thud.

“Ow,” you muttered before Rafe’s head shot up from the pillow he was just drooling on.

“Why are you on the floor?” he inquired as your eyes rolled at the boy.

“Because you are a bed hog and when you didn’t move when I asked, I tried to move you myself which got me here,” you told him while you two stared at each other for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles together.

“Are-are-are you okay?” he breathed through his laughs while he lent you a hand to help you out. You took his hand in yours and let him lift you up before you sat down on the side of the bed you just woke up from.

“Yes, just don’t sleep all crazy and we’ll be good,” you said as your laughter died down. When you looked over at him, you still noticed the saliva slipping down his face.

“You need to do something about that,” you told him, pointing towards the drool. His hand came up to his face, effectively wiping it away before he attempted to wipe it off on you. Your movements were quicker than his and you managed to grab his wrist before it met your skin.

“I don’t think so,” you warned while your other hand reached to grab a tissue from his bedside table and cleaned the slobber off with it. Rafe chuckled at you when he leaned back on the pillows while you tossed the tissue in the trash can.

“Are you getting ready here or at your place?” the Cameron boy questioned before he reached over to grab his phone and check the time, his practically bulging out of their sockets at the sight of it being nearly three in the afternoon. You laughed at his expression as you picked up your own cellular device.

“Probably my place. What about you and the other two dorks?” His face showed mock hurt, causing your giggles to increase.

“I don’t about Topper and Kelce, but I’ll probably get ready here because I have to help Sarah prepare for the party. You gonna get some chips, right?” the blond told you while he rubbed at his eyes a little and sat up again. Tonight was the New Year’s Eve party that Scarlet normally threw, but since her parents decided not to go on their annual ski trip and Ward and Rose were on a work trip, Sarah suggested they have it here. All it took was a little convincing to get Wheezie to spend the night with a friend and the house was free.

“Yep, I should probably get going anyway. I gotta shower and do other things as well,” you informed the boy as you rose from your spot next to him and slipped on your shoes. You saw yourself in the reflection of his mirror, wearing some pajama shorts, an oversized shirt that you had stolen from Kelce a few months ago, and your old beat-up converse. Your hair was a knotted mess from the particularly good sleep you had gotten, but at the moment you didn’t care. In your opinion, it completed the hot mess look you appeared to be going for.

“Okay well, be here at like nine to help me clean up and shit. Sarah is gonna be on my ass and I can’t handle her like you do. You have this like magic touch when it comes to her.” He did not know it, but his words caused your cheeks to heat up. You took pride in being able to read and understand his sister very well. Of course, it was because you basically studied the girl, you were in love with her.

“Hey, also Scarlet is coming tonight so we might can get you in with her,” Rafe shot you a wink after speaking. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing all three of them were going to be pushing you towards the girl. Scarlet was nice and all, but she was not Sarah.

“I don’t want to start the new year like that. I want to start like I do every year, with my boys, okay?” Rafe nodded with a grin that told you he heard you but would not be listening at all. “Rafe, I’m serious,” you warned in a low tone while stepping back towards the door.

“Me too, y/n. You need to get out there!” he shouted as you slammed the door shut behind you before leaning against it, a small chuckle falling past your lips.

“Get out there? Y/n, are you finally dumping those bozos and finding a real man?” the voice that made your knees weak and your heart stop asked from beside you. You gasped, the girl’s presence scaring you a bit.

“Jesus, Sarah,” you muttered when your hand flew to your chest. She giggled at you, the melodious sound flowing through your ears like angelic music. Everything about her, especially that cute smile of hers, had you so captivated by her. You needed to leave soon before you made a damn fool of yourself or worse, Rafe came out and found out that you were crushing on his sibling.

“Sorry, y/n,” she laughed, her hand clasping on your shoulder, “but seriously, are you getting out there tonight? Scarlet and I made sure to invite some pretty hot guys to the party.” You haven’t told her about your sexuality yet. The only people who knew were Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and your family. You were planning on telling her, but you didn’t know when.

“Um, that’s nice Sarah, but I kinda wanna lay low tonight and just drink with the guys,” you told her honestly as you had just told her older brother. You didn’t plan on having the two eldest Camerons pushing you to take a shot at someone tonight.

“Oh, come on y/n. Live a little,” she whined before shooting you a wink and backing away towards her room.

“I might,” you called out as she retreated past the doorway. Once she was gone, you let out a sigh and skipped down the steps to go out to your car.

…

It did not feel like hours had passed since you were last at Tannyhill, but it had been. You had gone home, showered, got ready for the party, stopped at the store to get those chips Rafe asked you to pick up along with some other things that you knew he probably forgot to get that Sarah wanted him to get, and made it back to the Cameron estate in a rather good time frame. It was 8:30, thirty minutes before Rafe had asked you to be there and when he saw you walk in, his face flooded with relief.

“Y/n!” he shouted before rushing to you to help with the bags you were holding. His eyes dropped from yours for a moment to look you over, a smirk growing on his face. “You look good. Is this for Scarlet?” He couldn’t help but tease you.

“No this is for me, asshole,” you huffed while shoving his shoulder with your now free arm. He wasn’t lying though. You did look good. Your makeup and hair looked flawless. You wore your ripped jeans and a nice flowy tank, the colors complimenting your skin wonderfully. You looked amazing and there was no denying it. It wasn’t for Scarlet though. It was mainly for you and a little bit for Sarah, even though you were sure she wouldn’t spare you a glance.

“Y/n! You look beautiful!” Okay, maybe she’d glance at you, but it wasn’t the way you wanted her to look at you. The compliment coming from her made your heart soar to the sky and flutter like a butterfly. Your cheeks burned at her words as you nodded at her.

“Thank you, Sarah! You don’t look too bad yourself.” She only had her hair and makeup done, still wearing her t-shirt and shorts you saw her in earlier, but to you, she looked ethereal. She was an angel, a goddess, a princess in your eyes. Sarah blushed at your words before looking down at her feet.

“Thank you, y/n! You are way too nice to be friends with him,” she commented, earning a ‘hey!’ from Rafe as you two giggled at it.

“Let’s go take this to the kitchen,” Rafe reminded you and you nodded at him before waving at Sarah and following him to the counter where all the food and drinks sat.

“So, I got the chips you asked for and some more different kinds, then I got some drinks, alcoholic and non-alcoholic, and the stuff to make some dip and punch,” you informed him while unloading the bags.

“Jesus, y/n. I only asked for chips,” he chuckled while scratching at the back of his head.

“Yeah, I know, but Sarah asked you to get the drinks and I can see you didn’t,” you told him while you looked around for them, but they were nowhere in sight.

“I was gonna get Topper to get them before he came but now, I don’t have to,” he laughed at your preparedness.

“Then I know you three like that beefy cheese dip thing that I make, and I know Sarah likes punch, so I decided to get stuff to make them both.”

“Okay, do you need help with anything?” Rafe asked, feeling a little bad that you had to do his job.

“Not right now. Go ask Sarah if she needs help with anything because I’m sure she’s probably lost her mind planning this thing,” you offered. He nodded before leaving you in the kitchen to get to making stuff. Having basically grown up there, you knew where everything was, so you got to work on it all.

Around two hours later, people started arriving and the party commenced. Kelce hung out in the kitchen with you, and by hung out, he sat on the counter next to you and went to town on the dip that sat between you both. You were about to hop off to get yourself a refill, but you saw Topper and Rafe walk in and asked Topper to get you some more, which he gladly did.

“Thanks, Top,” you smiled at the boy when he handed you your beverage back. He gave you a nod before standing next to you as Rafe did the same next to Kelce.

“Pass me some chips, bro,” Topper asked Kelce while both Rafe and Kelce had a hand in the bag already.

“I got more over there,” you reminded the boys who left Kelce’s bag alone and went to get their own. Your eyes fell back on the girl you had been staring at all night. The way her brown eyes shined and her lips curved up into that gorgeous grin made you fall harder for her. You watched her throw her head back in laughter, you dying to be the one to make her laugh like that, but for now, you settled on just watching it from afar.

“You are staring at Scarlet,” Rafe teased you while dipping his chip into the bowl beside you. You rolled your eyes at him before Kelce spoke up.

“She’s been looking over there all night.” You looked back over to Sarah and Scarlet was in fact next to her. You had not noticed, your eyes obviously trained on someone else, but staring at Scarlet was a better cover story anyway.

“N-no,” you stuttered, a tell-tale sign that you were caught. The trio chorused in laughter, all knowing that you were lying. “Fine, I was looking over there a little.”

“More like a lot, y/n/n,” Topper grinned while looking over to the girl they thought your eyes were glued to.

“I told you, y/n. Just make a move tonight. Get your first girl. Do you know how exciting that will be?” Does he know how exciting it will be if you get the girl of your dreams? Not her best friend that they thought you were infatuated with.

“Rafe, I told you I want to spend New Year’s Eve with you guys, not pining over a girl who will probably never feel the same. No one else even knows I’m into girls besides you three and my family. That’s it and I don’t want to tell anyone else for now.” Your eyes found the girl again, but now she wasn’t with Scarlet at all. She was with some guy, probably one of the hot guys she mentioned inviting earlier, and he had his hand on her arm slowly sliding it down until he found her waist.

It shouldn’t have bothered you. You weren’t together. You weren’t even talking. To Sarah, you two weren’t even a possibility, but it hurt a little. It stung to see her with someone else. You felt your eyes begin to water but you blinked any tears that dared to show themselves away.

“Uh, I’m gonna go outside and get some fresh air,” you mumbled to the three that sat around you before hopping off the countertop and slipping through people until you found the back door and walked out of it. The three boys looked at each other in confusion, all of them clearly sensing that you were upset about something.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have teased her about the Scarlet thing?” Rafe spoke, now feeling incredibly guilty. You and him teased each other all the time, so he saw no harm in it, but now he felt like he had crossed a line with you.

“Or maybe Scarlet wasn’t the problem at all,” Kelce wondered out loud, the puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly in his head. Rafe and Topper unfortunately were not picking up what he was putting down, so the boy rolled his eyes before explaining. “She was looking at Sarah and Scarlet, right? Well, when Scarlet was gone and Sarah was over there alone with a guy, y/n got upset so…”

“She likes Sarah,” Topper finished Kelce’s sentence. “She probably didn’t want to tell you because that’s your sister.”

“And your ex,” Rafe reminded him. Rafe did not care if you liked Sarah. He only cared that you were happy and if that meant you were with his sister, then that was fine. You were basically family already so might as well actually become it.

“Rafe, that was forever ago, and I don’t care if she likes Sarah,” Topper told him.

“I don’t either,” Rafe stated.

“Well, we should tell her it’s okay if she likes Sarah,” Topper suggested while Rafe nodded at him, them both setting their chip bags down and about to leave before Kelce stopped them.

“I think she’s beating you to it,” he said while nodding towards the blonde girl who walked out the door. “Let’s give them a moment.”

Sarah saw you walk out and having grown up around you and you being the only other girl she could really trust, she knew something was wrong with you. She assumed it was something the guys had said as a joke, but she knew you and she knew that you would shoot them right back with some sarcasm or a witty comeback when they did something like that. She knew that something had to really be bothering you for you to excuse yourself and it worried her.

Sarah saw you standing out by the water. You had taken your sandals off and held them in your hand as you stared out at the moon’s reflection on the water’s surface. The wind blew your hair to the side softly and the moonlight shone on your face perfectly. You glowed, looking as beautiful as ever and the sight caused a feeling in Sarah that she had never felt about you before and she liked it.

“Y/n?” she called out when she had gotten closer to you. You almost did not notice her. You originally thought the footsteps you heard were Rafe’s, but they were actually Sarah’s. You smiled at her when another gust of wind came your way, causing you to shiver. You mentally cursed yourself for wearing what you had chosen as it did not help you in the cold at all.

“Come here,” Sarah mumbled when she stood behind you. She wore a large cardigan, one you were quite envious of at the moment before grabbing your wrists when you turned to her. Your eyebrows drew together when she linked your hands together behind her back underneath the sweater material, but you already felt much warmer. She took the sides of the cardigan in her hands and brought them together at the small of your back so that you both were now wrapped up in the warmth of the cardigan and each other.

“Thanks, Sarah,” you sighed in relief while your head rested on her shoulder as did hers on yours.

“So, what’s got you so upset?”

“How did you know I was upset?” you questioned her before she laughed.

“Y/n, I know you. I could tell and you always come to look at the water when something’s bothering you so what is it?” she inquired when she pulled away to look at you. Now was the best time to tell her about it so you did.

“I’m bi,” you told her confidently. You felt wonderful telling her, but also a bit of nervousness came with the confession since she was the first female friend that you had told. All that nervousness disappeared in an instant though when you caught sight of that beautiful smile of hers.

“I’m glad you finally realized,” she chuckled a bit while your eyes widened. “What? You think I didn’t know. I used to see how you looked at Kie a few years ago.”

“I don’t like Kiara anymore,” you mumbled, “and I don’t like Scarlet either despite what the guys think so if you hear that, it’s false.”

“Well, who do you like?” You wanted to scream from the rooftops that it was her that you liked but you could not do that, could you? Her big brown eyes sparkled at you as she awaited your response. Tell her something, anything at this point.

“I- uh,” you stumbled with your words a bit as you heard the people inside begin counting down from ten. “It’s um, you. Damn it, it’s you that I like,” you started as you stepped back from her and her embrace, back into the unrelenting cold while the chanting of numbers rung from the house. “I’m sorry if this makes you feel weird or something,” five, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” four,” I still want to be your friend,” three, “and hopefully you want to be mine,“ two, “I’ve messed everything up, haven’t I?” one.

“Shut up,” Sarah whispered before her hands cupped your face and pulled you closer to hers. The moment you had been dreaming of for quite some time now was happening. Your dream was coming true as you felt her lips connect with hers. Your eyes widened and you took in a sharp breath before you melted into her, your arms wrapping around her neck while hers fell to your waist. You heard the shouts coming from inside her home as everyone celebrated the new year, but in your mind, you were screaming in excitement about how you were starting your new year.

After some time, you both had to pull away for some air. Your eyes darted between her own before they glanced down at her swollen reddened lips and then came back up to her eyes.

“Sarah,” you sighed. It did not feel real. It felt real, but at the same time, it didn’t. Something was up. This couldn’t be true. The universe didn’t work like that. It normally gave you the shit end of the stick and now your dream was coming true.

“Y/n, I like you. I didn’t realize until just a few moments ago, but now I know, and I want to be with you,” she confessed to you. Your lips tugged upwards in a wide grin as you soaked in the moment.

“Really?” you asked, your mind still telling you this was all fake and would end soon. Sarah bit her bottom lip before nodding her head at you. “Then let’s be together.”

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

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chibimyumi · 3 years

Note

@thedarkestcrow and a few others have gotten questions about the end of Kuro. The presumption is the final conflict will be between O!C and Sebastian. Many theorize that it will revolve around O!C’s desire to live or not, possibly with his living/reanimated family and friends begging him to escape Sebastian. Of course, even if O!C decides he wants to leave, Sebastian will demand his payment. My question to you is do you think O!C might change his mind about the contract and his will to live?

Dear Anon,

First of all, my thanks for your sweet words ^^

Now, about your question. Very interesting! I myself don’t do prediction theories though; it involves too much guessing based on too little information and too many variables for me to find it comfortable. That’s why I only do analyses of things that have already happened. So I am not sure how much I can help you here ≽▽≼ so my blog might be less amazing to you now, I’m so sorry.

Though, I can use your proposal as a hypothesis and analyse it. This will not be a predictive post, simply a deduction through logic within a hypothesis.

Hypothesis: Undertaker uses Bizarre Phantomhive Dolls to bait O!Ciel into giving up on his contract. Q: “might O!Ciel change his mind about the contract and his will to live?”

Personally I think it is fairly unlikely a zombie-family can cause O!Ciel’s resolve to waver because it is simply too strong.

Character Study

Most human beings who experience (sudden) loss need quite some time to process this information before reaching the stage of “acceptance”. Our boy however, already easily withstood a supernatural being’s positive response about reviving the dead even before he could actually process anything. Most people would not believe a human if they made the same offer, but wished it were true. But if a clearly powerful supernatural appeared before you, that’s a different story; who knows what magic potential they possess?

じゃあ、死んだ人間を生き返らせることは？

Jaa, shinda ningen wo ikikaeraseru koto wa?

And, what about bringing dead humans back to life?

O!Ciel was the one who brought this topic up. Judging from the clear-cut language and lack of emotional markers, it is arguable he said so not because he hoped it were possible, but because he knows it is impossible, and therefore wanted to test the demon’s truthfulness.

Sebastian took the bait, and therewith O!Ciel knew he’d have to strategically use his first wish to seal off the demon’s potential of lying. (Ugh he’s so smart!) O!Ciel’s swiftness in rejecting the demon’s temptation is evidence that he had already fully accepted that what is dead, stays dead.

Discussing Hypothesis

So, knowing O!Ciel has this level of acceptance, how would it play out IF Undertaker does attempt to lure O!Ciel with his revived family?

Had Undertaker really wanted the best chance at making O!Ciel fall for the temptation, he would have to not have exposed the boy to his creations so often. He has seen the in-between stages of reviving the dead, and therefore knows exactly what they are: Just decaying meat manipulated by a lunatic. Being met with the sudden appearance of seemingly flawless living-dead family would no longer be something new to O!Ciel, so it won’t have the advantage of a “pleasant surprise” to him.

O!Ciel is a very clever boy who thinks very clearly as long as he’s allowed the space in his head. So the best way to bait him into making a poor decision would be to disorient or overwhelm him with shocking new information, like at the end of the Circus Arc.

However, shock value is something that declines with every exposure. Now that O!Ciel is already so used to seeing Bizarre Dolls, and every time these zombies just get more and more advanced, he’d know it’s only a matter of time before these Dolls could become basically fully sentient, like his brother did.

Yes, he was very shocked to see R!Ciel back, but if we pay attention he was not so much concerned about his body being resurrected, but what threat R!Ciel’s return would pose to his own position now exposed as ‘the impostor’. Should Undertaker also “revive” his dead parents to try tempt the boy into reuniting with his family, then O!Ciel would be desensitised already by that time. He’d have had too much time to be mentally prepared. Besides, especially after seeing R!Ciel who is the biggest threat nothing would overwhelm him more anymore. You cannot shock somebody twice using the same trick; especially not if the second one is a lesser threat. It would be akin to bad film sequels that over-analyse the success of the original and use the formula of “more = better” to appease audiences.

In this sense, I personally reason that considering how Undertaker has been working so far, he would probably not try to make O!Ciel do a 180 through manipulation; that tactic simply leaves too much space for failure. Also, manipulation does not really seem Undertaker’s M.O.; that’s Sebas’ thing. Undertaker prefers cornering somebody, forcing them to bend eventually – i.e. use ‘hard-power’ instead of ‘soft’, like he did with Sebas on the Campania and at Weston.

How should Undertaker have acted to make the hypothesis work?

If we do go along with the hypothesis that Undertaker does want to use soft-power to get O!Ciel, he had better done things like this:

During the Campania Undertaker had indeed not expected the boy there, fine! That would have been an accident, as well as a competent way of storytelling to inform O!Ciel and the audience that clearly somebody is doing something big, and that Undertaker is not 100% in control of everything.

IF! I were the Undertaker in that situation AND I plan to bait O!Ciel with his “revived” family, I would never have revealed myself to be a reaper, and instead denied any responsibility for the bizarre dolls. Rian Stoker was fully convinced he had worked the disastrous “miracle” anyway, and there is no better scapegoat than one who truly believes himself guilty. Plus, he was scheduled to die anyway. If the scapegoat could just die in an accident caused indirectly by his own doing, the cover-story would have been beyond perfect.

Before Undertaker revealed himself, O!Ciel trusted Undertaker as an ally, and even went to him for sensitive information on which he based his entire job for the Queen. O!Ciel is naturally untrusting, but Undertaker did win that trust, and that should have been too valuable a weapon not to keep. By revealing himself to be an antagonistic and powerful being who mortally wounded O!Ciel’s main security (Sebas), Undertaker proved himself to be untrustworthy.

Now that O!Ciel can no longer trust Undertaker in the slightest, what effect would it have if this untrustworthy lunatic were to try bait him? I find it unlikely that O!Ciel would be stupid enough to take the bait, and Undertaker stupid enough to believe O!Ciel might after all this.

In short, for this hypothesis to work on the naturally untrusting O!Ciel, Undertaker would have needed to:

keep O!Ciel’s trust,

have the advantage of a ‘pleasant surprise’ on his side,

any credibility that his walking-flesh are “really alive”.

I hope this had been interesting ( ´ o｀) Good day to you, Anon ^^

Follow up post: What would O!Ciel do if Undertaker tried to bait O!Ciel with Bizarre Phantomhives?

#Kuroshitsujit #Undertaker #Finale #O!Ciel #theory #character study #Bizarre Dolls #R!Ciel #this is NOT a predictive post!!! Just analysing the potentials of a hypothesis!!!

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chrisevansszn · 3 years

Text

THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE PT 3‼

Word count 1.6k

Chris holds his hand out. You look at it and finally takes his hand. He leads you over to the bed and you both lay down. The moonlight shining in the room is absolute perfection. You and Chris are laying and looking at each other. He reaches over and takes the right side of your face in his hand.

“Tell me everything about you. You have my attention”, he says as he plays with your hair.

This caught you completely off guard, but you can’t say no. You sit up with you hand under your head.

“Where do I start?”

“Your childhood.”, Chris says.

You and Chris talk well into the night….

*phone alarm rings*

You jump up!

“Oh shit! I am going to be late for work!” You begin to throw on your clothes quickly. Chris sits up in bed.

No, you did not just did not only fuck your new coworker but SPENT the night at his house.

Y/N you may have went a smidge too far.

“Do you want a coffee before you go?”, Chris asks.

“Oh no thank you.” You grab your purse and coat and run out the door.

You make it home and change into some work clothes, throw on some make up, and head out the door. As soon as you pull out of the driveway your phone rings, it’s Noah.

“Hello”

“I saw you coming home this morning on the Ring doorbell”

Your heart fucking stopped…..

“Where have you been Y/N”

“Oh, I went out with Carrie for some drinks, and went a little overboard. I….thought it was be wise to just sleep at her place to be safe.”

“You were at Carrie’s?”, Noah asked. He didn’t believe a word I was saying. I had to keep it going.

“Yeah, she called and asked to go to the bar and we just went out and had a great time.”

“Hmmm..ok.”

“How is it at the hospital?” You had to change the subject.

“Busy, it’s nice hearing your voice. Something different. I can’t wait to fly home tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to see you.”, you lied. “I just pulled up at work Noah. I love you and I’ll talk to you later.”

“Already? Well ok, I love you too”. He hung up the phone.

You weren’t even close to work. You just didn’t want to talk to Noah. You sent Carrie a message letting her know she needs to lie for you. You guys are childhood friends. She doesn’t even ask why, she just does it.

The entire rest of the drive to work you thought about what happened last night. Did you open a door that you weren’t prepared for? Do you want to close this door? Or just continue walking in?

You make it to work and get into your office. You look across the hall and see Chris working. He looks up and makes eye contact you. He raised his eyebrows to you and a smirk.

Oh….you’re walking all the way through the door.

You and Chris’ affair last for months. No one has a clue. You’ve created a flawless system to meet up, and Chris can never come to your home, never. The Ring doorbell duh!

You begin to get a little too comfortable. You and Chris were sneaking off on weekend vacations when Noah was out of state working. You both begin telling each other “I love you and calling each other “baby.”

You knew this was a mess but couldn’t let it go.

You and Chris were facetiming one night before going to bed.

“Y/N….”

“Yeah, babe.”

“I want you to leave Noah….”

You look at your phone complete shocked and frozen.

“Leave Noah?”

“Yes. I love you. I can make you happier. I’m tired of being #2.”, he says so calmly. He just relaying his message. Calm, cool, and collected. You can hear the pain and confusion in his voice.

“Chris…I can’t do that. You knew what this was from the beginning.”

“You’re just going to stay in a marriage that no longer brings you anything?”, he is starting to raise his voice. You sit up.

“Chris! I cannot leave Noah. My family would disown me.”

“Y/N you just can’t fuck a man, tell him you love him all day, and think feelings won’t happen! What about me?”

“Chris, I am not about to argue with you or discuss this.”

You hang up the phone.

FUCK!! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!

A few days goes by. You and Chris haven’t communicated at all. Noah is home for a couple weeks. He took a vacation because he had too many hours. Marriage life was still the same…extremely boring. You and Noah still had sex, but it was nothing like what you and Chris would do. While having sex with Noah you are basically a pillow princess.

One morning you rolled out of bed and ran immediately to the bathroom. You are being instantly throwing up. You really didn’t think too much about it. Food poising probably. You had taken out last night.

You and Noah go on a weekend vacation to Florida to get some sun. Destin is always the best getaway for you too. You take boat rides in the gulf, parasail, and spend all day on the beach. Defrost from the Boston weather.

While on vacation you get a text from Chris.

“I am so sorry for what I said. I just love you so much and know that I basically can never have you for myself hurts too much. You and I are done Y/N.”

Noah was sitting across from you on the other couch. You had to completely keep it together. The thought of losing Chris absolutely pains you. You get up and walk to the bathroom and cry your eyes out, but you don’t reply.

You and Noah make it back to Boston, and it’s back to regular life. The next morning Noah flies out to Georgia for his next Covid stint.

You and Chris have a case together so completely not communicating with him at all is not an option.

You walk into this office Monday morning.

“Good Morning Chris, we need to discuss the Allen trial, and go through these files.”

“You’re just going to ignore my text?”

FUCK! HERE HE GOES!

“Chris please….”

He stands up and closes the door behind you and closes the blinds.

“Y/N, you are so full of bullshit. You think you can just ignore me like I didn’t matter.”, he’s talking through his teeth. He is pissed.

“You text me and told me you were done with me!”, now you are talking through your teeth.

“You know I didn’t mean that shit. I wanted you to tell me you needed me.”

“You’re asking for too much for me. If you just stayed in your place…”

“Say in my fucking place Y/N…get the fuck out of my office now.”

You and Chris are nose to nose at his point. You take a step back and give him a death look and leave his office. Fuck Chris and this case!!

You get back to your office doing your best to keep from balling. You want to be with Chris, but you can’t. You sit at your desk and you can fill it coming….throw up. You grabbed your trash can just in time!

You sit and think. Could you be pregnant? This cannot be happening right now. You can’t be pregnant! You instantly get lightheaded.

If you ARE pregnant, it could be Noah’s….but Chris could be the father as well because you’ve been having unprotected sex with both.

Y/N what have you gotten yourself into???

On the way home you stop by a CVS and run in to pick up some pregnancy test. You make it home and throw all your work shit on the coffee table. You take the pregnancy test out of the bag and just stare at the box. You finally get the nerve to go to the bathroom to take the best.

You pee on the stick, and now a three-minute wait.

Those three minutes felt like a lifetime. You hear the test beep. You instantly get weak in the knees. You take a breath and pick up the pregnancy test off of the counter.

You’re pregnant.

You instantly begin crying. Do you keep it? Do you have an abortion? Do you call and tell Noah? Do you surprise Noah when he gets home?

What if Chris is the father? Wait…should you set up a doctor’s appointment just to be sure?

These things really are rarely wrong Y/N.

You decide to keep the pregnancy to yourself until you make a decision.

You can’t keep this to yourself, you call up Carrie and tell her, but you don’t go into the details about Chris. Carrie is so excited for you. At least someone is at the moment.

You ask Carrie to keep this to herself and she promises. Carrie tells you some people from work are going to the bar tonight. She knows you can’t join because now you can’t drink. You laugh and tell her to have a good time.

The next day you get up for work with zero energy to do so. “Another day at the office” you think at the elevator reaches the 15th floor. You say good morning to everyone you walk by and you head to your office. You notice that your blinds are already closed which is odd.

As soon as you walk in Chris is standing there waiting on you. He scared you half to death.

“Chris, what the hell are you doing?”

“Are you pregnant? And if so, is it my child?”

Let me know what you think!! 💖

#cevans #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris jamal evans #marvel #captain america #defending jacob #andy barber

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ladyfogg · 3 years

Text

May I? - 26/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot courtesy of @geekygwen

Faith hadn’t realized how much her duties had weighed on her until Data asked her to take shore leave. She knew that he wouldn’t have broached the subject if he wasn’t concerned. She had tried to throw herself more into her work. Geordi and Captain Picard believed she was capable enough to handle the responsibilities that came with her promotion to lieutenant, and she didn’t want to disappoint them.

Without realizing it, she had thrown herself completely into her work without thinking of anything else. Foolishly, she thought if she could just push through the exhaustion and anxiety, it would all get better. She had been wrong.

It didn’t help that the idea of taking a break and leaving the ship behind sent her into a nervous spiral.

After weeks of this behavior, Data had walked her to sickbay himself, where she was given a full physical by Dr. Crusher. The results were unsurprising: exhaustion. True, literal, physical exhaustion.

She was immediately put on leave and ordered to rest.

It was only then that she agreed to take a vacation. Data put in their official shore leave requests that same day. Commander Riker approved it within the hour, stating, “What took you so damn long?”

Now that the time had come, Faith found herself just as nervous as she was before. But she was determined to work through it, to take the advice from her doctor, counselor, and boyfriend. So, she had to let her anxieties go and prepare for the first vacation she'd had in years.

Data had offered to plan their time away and she let him, not only because she had no clue where to start, but because she knew he enjoyed making plans for them.

“Are you at least feeling some excitement?” Deanna asked during Faith’s therapy.

Given Faith’s current mental state, they had upped their number of sessions to twice a week. She currently sat in Deanna’s office, foot nervously bouncing. Per her request, Deanna had agreed to see her the day of their departure for one final pep talk.

“I’ve been trying really hard. It’s been difficult,” Faith said. “I know Data is looking forward to it and I don’t want to ruin his fun like I ruined his romantic date a few weeks ago.”

“Faith, I don’t believe you ruined anything. Considering that evening led to some very powerful confessions from the both of you.”

Faith smiled softly, remembering the way Data had told her he loved her. They had repeated the words to each other several times since it happened, and each time made her just as warm and elated as the first.

“I still have a hard time believing it myself,” she said.

Deanna smiled back. “I don’t. It was obvious that the feelings between you two were progressing. I always felt as though Data had some emotional capabilities long before his first angry outburst. As an outsider, it’s been wonderful to watch your relationship develop and to see the love growing between you two shared out in the open.”

“Thank you, Counselor.”

“Are you still uneasy discussing the intimate nature of your relationship?” Deanna asked. “Not that I want to pry. I just want you to know that should you wish to discuss those particular feelings, I am a professional and ready to listen.”

Faith smirked. “Sure that’s the counselor part of you talking or the friend part of you?”

Deanna giggled. “A little of both.”

Faith could feel her cheeks flush at the thought of her sexual relationship with Data. “All I will say is, his flawless precision and attention to detail translate very well into the bedroom.”

Deanna’s grin widened even though Faith could tell she was trying to keep her composure and demeanor professional. “Well, I am happy to hear that you feel comfortable enough with me to share such information.”

“After our vacation, let’s have a girls' night with Beverly and I’ll share more. Sound good?”

“I’ll hold you to that! So if there’s nothing else you wish to talk about, it is my duty as your counselor and superior officer to order you to enjoy your shore leave. Leave your problems behind. And enjoy much-needed alone time with your love.”

“I’ll try.”

Deanna gave her a big hug before she left. “You’ll do great. Just focus on a certain android’s attention to detail.”

That made Faith laugh and she hugged Deanna back. “Will do.”

On her way back to her quarters, Faith couldn’t help but stop by Engineering. She hadn’t been there in a few days and it was instinct to make sure everything was set before she let. Deep down, what she truly wanted to do was see if Geordi was somehow annoyed with her for not being on duty. The fear of disappointing authority figures in her life was as strong as ever. But she was working on it.

When she arrived, Geordi was as busy as always but paused when he saw her. “Diaz, what are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to stop by and see if you needed anything.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to take your shore leave?”

Faith felt embarrassed for feeling like she needed reassurance from someone who was pretty much the same age as she was. “Well, yeah but, I still have some time. If there’s something you need me to take care of before I go…”

Geordi chuckled. “Everything is under control, Faith,” he assured her before she could continue babbling.

“Oh, okay. Great. Good. Sorry. I know I haven’t been my best lately. I just figured I’d offer my help just in case.”

Geordi studied her for a moment before putting his PADD down and giving her his full attention. “Faith,” he said, his voice in a soft yet serious tone. “You don’t have anything to worry about. I’m not doing to demote you because you need a break.”

A weight she hadn’t realized she carried lifted slightly and she realized how foolish she was being. “No, I know that. I didn’t think you would. At least, I hoped you wouldn’t.”

“Everyone needs a break from time to time,” Geordi said. “I’m taking my leave when you come back. No one can be ‘on’ all the time. I don’t expect it for myself nor the people I command. You’ve done exceptional work and have earned your title. Please don’t work yourself to death on my or anyone else’s account. You’ve more than earned your time off. Go. Enjoy it.”

Faith hesitated. “Are you sure?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Geordi laughed and placed his hands on her shoulders so he could look at her directly. “Diaz, go on vacation. That’s an order.”

With that, her turned her around and gave her a light shove towards the turbo-lift. Getting the message loud and clear, Faith allowed the movement and followed through. When she returned to her and Data’s quarters, the android was waiting patiently.

“Ah, Faith, there you are. We should be arriving at Tridas 6S in one hour. Are you prepared for our departure?”

“As prepared as I’ll ever be.”

She had already packed and repacked their belongings. Thankfully with replicators available at their destination they didn’t need to pack much. Spot had been fed and Barclay would be looking after her for the length of their vacation. With nothing left to do, she took a seat on the sofa and began her breathing exercises.

Data sat with her. “I believe once we are at the hotel, you will feel much better. I have chosen a location that offers isolation for those who desire, yet still has amenities for us to partake.”

The idea of peace and quiet with Data did make her feel better. “That sounds nice,” she said.

“I hope you will enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll try. I really will.”

“I will be with you the entire time.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she crawled into his lap and rested her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I could list suggestions but I do not believe that is what you desire.”

Faith laughed. “No, no it’s not. I just wanted to let you know how much you’re appreciated.”

“Thank you. Would you like to rest here until it is time to go?”

“I would like that very much.”

They stayed snuggled together on the sofa until they were alerted to the ship’s arrival. Data and Faith weren’t the only ones disembarking. Others were taking shore leave on the planet, though Data and Faith were vacationing on a less busy side.

Before she knew it, she and Data were called to the transporter for their departure. Data took their bag in one hand and held Faith’s hand with the other. She clutched it tightly, giving herself an internal pep talk before they left their quarters.

Along the route, they ran into Captain Picard and Commander Riker.

“Ah, Data, Ms. Diaz,” Picard said. “On your way to Tridas?”

“That is correct,” Data said. “We will be vacationing at the Triple Seashore Cabins, off the coast of Sunterre Isles.”

“A nice quiet romantic spot,” Riker said with a knowing smirk. “Perfect place to be alone.”

Picard raised his eyebrow in amusement but let the comment slide. “I hope you both enjoy your well-deserved shore leave,” he said.

“Thank you, Captain,” Data said. “Is there anything you require before we leave?”

“No, not at all. Have a good time.”

Faith offered a smile and a nod. She didn’t say anything, not trusting herself to speak after her babbling incident in Engineering. Truth be told, she was plagued with nausea from her anxiety, her stomach rolling with each step towards the transporter room.

Chief O’Brien stood at the controls and smiled at them as they entered. “Coordinates have been entered and the transporter pad is ready when you are, Commander.”

“Thank you, Chief.”

O’Brien looked over at Faith. “You alright, Diaz?”

She took a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine.”

“I remember my first time taking shore leave after a promotion. Trust me, a lot of us have felt the way you’re feeling now.”

In the past, she would have felt like he was just trying to be nice. But her work with Counselor Troi had made her come to understand that many people did in fact feel the way she did and she appreciated his attempt to calm her nerves. “Thanks, Chief. It really is hard to tear yourself away from work, isn’t it?”

“Enjoy it,” O’Brien said with a reassuring nod. “Should be a smooth transport. Nothing to worry about. I’ll drop you right in the lobby of the hotel.”

Faith nodded and followed Data onto the transporter. With his strong hand in hers and smile, some of her anxiety wane.

“Energize,” she said.

She felt the tug of the transporter and the next thing she knew, there were standing in the small lobby of a comfortable-looking building. While the architecture was alien, the warm colors reminded her of many of the places she had been to on Earth. The knot of emotion in her stomach was still there but she was able to let out a slow exhale.

“You are doing quite well,” Data assured her, leading her to one of the many kiosks that stood off to the side. “Let us check-in and settle into our cabin. We are here for seven days. We can take our time.”

“Thank you for your patience,” Faith said. “And for planning all this.”

“You are welcome.”

Data checked them in and the two of them followed the floor markers through the hotel and out one of the back doors. When Faith saw the view, it took her breath away.

While she had done her research on the planet and where they would be staying, it hadn’t prepared her for the stunning ocean view. The building they had left sat atop a hill, which overlooked three distinct shores and stretches of white sandy beaches. His program on the holodeck was nothing compared to the real thing. The smell of saltwater invaded her nostrils and a warm breeze ruffled her hair. Her whole body relaxed as the sun, real sun, hit her face. Actually, there were two suns when she managed to glance up with her eyes shielded.

Data noticed the change immediately. “I was hoping a tropical setting would act as a reminder of where your family came from. I know you expressed the desire to return there at some point. As we are far from Earth, I thought this would be a close alternative.”

“Data, it’s perfect.”

She slipped her arm around his waist as he slipped his around her shoulders. Together they walked for some time until they found the cabin that would be their home for the next two weeks.

After spending so much time on the ship, listening to the hum of Engineering and conversations of her fellow crewmates, Faith appreciated the crashing waves.

Their cabin was a small wooden building, surrounded by numerous kinds of vegetation and a deck that jutted out towards the shore. The ocean was only a few feet away and Faith imagined when the tide came in, the water could easily reach the steps.

“Do you like it?” Data asked as they walked up onto the deck.

“I love it.” She leaned on the railing, unable to stop staring at the gorgeous view.

Data placed their suitcase inside before coming to stand with her. He took her hand and they admired the stretch of beach before them.

“What do you wish to do first?” he asked. “Are you hungry? You did not eat much at breakfast.”

“I just want to stand here and watch the waves with you.”

Data smiled softly and remained where he was, holding Faith’s hand as they admired the view. That only lasted a few minutes because then Faith’s stomach rumbled, making her chuckle.

“I guess you were right. I am hungry. Where’s a place to get a meal around here?”

“We do not have to leave the cabin. There is a replicator inside. What would you like?”

“How about a picnic? We can spread a blanket out on the sand.”

“If you wish.”

As he went to gather what they would need, Faith kicked out of her shoes and stepped onto the white sand. It was warm and pliable underneath her feet as she walked towards the water’s edge. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensations.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed being near the ocean until that moment. It had been far too many years since she found herself on a real beach.

Behind her, Data’s footsteps approached. She turned to find him carrying a picnic basket with a blanket tucked under his arm. Together they laid out the blanket and Faith made herself comfortable while Data unpacked their food.

She recognized many of her favorites, snacks that she tended to eat when she didn’t want to have a full meal. Berries, cheese, crackers, assorted nuts, and a thermos filled with a smoothie that seemed to be made from the exotic fruits native to the planet. “This is wonderful,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this until I was here.”

“I must admit, I too did not realize I needed a change of scenery. Though I do not require rest, a respite from one’s work is important.”

Faith found herself glancing around on more than one occasion. For some reason, she felt like they were never truly alone. Maybe it was just her anxiety, or maybe it was because she was so used to their fellow crewmates. Either way, try as she might, she could never fully relax.

Data noticed. “Faith, I have scanned the area and our nearest neighbors are some distance. We have this stretch of beach to ourselves.”

She exhaled slowly. “Good to know.” As she reached for a piece of fruit, she snuggled up against Data.

He wound his arm around her and held her close while she ate. She didn’t have much, only enough to settle her rumbling stomach. Once she grew accustomed to her surroundings and felt Data’s familiar embrace, more of the tension left her until she was finally comfortable.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her head against Data’s shoulder.

“Faith, what would you like to do once you leave Starfleet?” he asked after they had enjoyed the silence for some time.

“You mean when I retire?”

“Retire or leave for something else.”

Faith considered his question for a moment, opening her eyes so she could watch the waves. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “At least, nothing specific. I think I’d like this. I’d like to be somewhere quiet, watching and listening to the waves.”

“I have always thought I might return to the academy later in my life, possibly to teach. But now…” It was so rare for Data not to finish his thought, at least with her.

When he didn’t continue, she gave him a questioning look. “Is that not something you want anymore?”

“I do not. The academy is not located on the beach.”

Faith smiled and leaned towards him. They shared a kiss before she drew back with a mischievous grin.

“Can you swim?” she asked.

“At first, I was unequipped to tread water but once this flaw was detected, Geordi and I made modifications to protect my circuits. I can also act as a floating device.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” Faith rose to her feet.

After a moment of contemplation, she decided to push the rest of her anxiety aside and started to strip.

At first, Data did not notice as he stood. “I believe the replicator can construct swimwear…” He paused when he realized Faith was getting naked. “Or we can swim nude.”

“You said our neighbors are far, right? And you will know if anyone comes close?”

“That is correct.”

Faith threw her shirt at him and gave him a playful smile. “So, let’s swim, android-boy.”

Data watched with wide eyes as Faith walked towards the water, fully naked. Which each step, any pesky lingering anxieties were gone, and when she finally felt the ocean wash over her feet, it was like her entire being breathed a sigh of relief.

She glanced back over her shoulder to see Data removing his clothes and carefully folding them. With an affectionate smile, Faith waited until he gently placed them on the blanket before he joined her.

Grinning, Faith pulled him with her as she ran into the next wave, allowing herself to get swept up in the water. It was so warm, it was almost like a bath and felt absolutely heavenly. Data remained perfectly still as the waves washed over him, dousing him completely.

Faith laughed at his lack of reaction. He gave her a puzzled look.

“Did I do something humorous?” he asked.

Faith pulled them deeper into the water until it was chest-high. “Only you can be washed up in waves and look completely unperturbed.”

“I was not aware I should be.”

“You don’t have to. Sometimes I forget how strong you are and that things like waves can’t push you over.” She swam in circles around him. “Have you tried splashing around?”

“No.”

Faith smirked and when the next wave came, she splashed it at Data, hitting him in the face. He blinked.

“I see.”

The next thing she knew, a huge wave came at her, sending her crashing backward under the water. When she came up spitting and coughing. Data was there immediately.

“Was that too much?” he asked.

When she could breathe properly, Faith began to laugh. “Just a little bit,” she said, still lightly coughing seawater in between her laugher. “Maybe we should stick to just enjoying each other’s company.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him in a hug.

“While I do still have much to learn about human behavior, I can report that when it comes to our romantic interactions, I have developed some skill,” Data said, his arms automatically slipping around her waist.

“Data, you’re wonderful. You always say that you’re not human but through our relationship, you’ve helped me realize that I was barely human myself. At least, I didn’t see myself as such. You’ve always seen the best in me and helped me see it too.”

“I only spoke the truth.”

Faith hugged him close, their foreheads touching. “And it means the world to me.”

She kissed him deeply. Surrounded by the warmth of the ocean and the heat of Data’s embrace, she felt as secure as she had on the ship.

They swam for some time until the suns started to set and the air grew colder. Only then did they return to shore, gather the remnants of their picnic, and head inside.

While Faith showered, she found herself smiling, her body already feeling less tense by the minute. Why had she waited so long? Now that she had distance between herself and her duties, she could see why her friends were concerned. Up until the point Beverly examined her, she had been sure her feelings were all in her head. It turned out that was only partially true. The anxiety was in her head, the physical toll it had taken was very real. She had worked herself to the point of literal exhaustion and would have kept going if Data hadn’t intervened.

Speaking of her beautiful android boy, he was dressed in civilian clothing when she emerged, something she rarely witnessed. She was so used to him being in uniform or naked. To see him sitting there in gray pants and a blue shirt felt strange. She realized this was another side of Data she hadn’t seen before, one he himself probably hadn’t partaken in. The relaxed, leisure side was also an important staple of being human.

“We’ve talked about how I’m feeling but how are you doing?” she asked, sinking into the squishy sofa next to him. “Is this your first shore leave?”

“I have taken shore leave before,” Data said. “To attend conferences and symposiums. This is my first recreational shore leave.”

“And? What do you think so far?”

Data cocked his head, contemplating her question. “It certainly is different. When we left the Enterprise, I made it a point to halt all background processes having to do with Starfleet-related functions. I also wrote a vacation subroutine based on research I have done on what one does to ‘relax’.”

Faith picked up one of the glasses of wine that sat on the small round table in front of them. “I wish I could write a subroutine in my brain. It’d make things a heck of a lot easier.”

“I once spoke with Counselor Troi on the subject and she explained that when humans repeat certain behaviors, it is the equivalent of how I construct my programming.”

“Meaning if I want to relax I should try to do it more.”

“Correct.”

Faith chuckled and took a sip of wine, only to realize it was not synthehol. She sputtered and coughed, unprepared for the robust flavors of real alcohol.

“Are you alright?” Data asked. “I was assured this vintage was special.”

“Y-yes. I’m fine, I just wasn’t prepared for real wine. Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift from Captain Picard. He said it was from his family’s vineyard on Earth.”

Faith had no idea Captain Picard’s family owned a vineyard, which wasn’t surprising considering she didn’t spend much time with him. There was very little she knew of the Captain’s personal life.

Now that she was prepared, the next sip was delicious. “That’s so nice of him to share this with you.”

Data smiled. “Shared this with us,” he corrected. “He gave it to me when I informed him of our shore leave.”

She smiled softly. “That makes it even more special.” She held up her glass for a toast. Data followed through, tapping his glass to hers before they took a sip together.

Once they did, Data put his glass down and stood. On the wall panel, he pressed a series of buttons, and then the cabin was filled with soft music. Data offered his hand to Faith.

She graciously accepted.

As they slowly danced, Faith rested her cheek to Data’s, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment. They hadn’t had one such as this since the art show. It made her realize how little time she had set aside for romance. Not that she could blame herself. It had been years since she had been in any kind of long-term relationship and they had never been like what she had with Data.

“Data,” she said in a soft voice. “Will you make me a promise?”

“Certainly.”

“Promise me we’ll always make time for this. For us.”

“I promise. If you promise to do the same.”

She drew back to look him in the eye. “I haven’t been doing so well at that, have I?”

“You have been consumed with work.”

He was right. In her attempt to keep herself going, she had let a lot fall by the wayside, not just in regards to her health.

“That’s no excuse,” she said. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own crap I’ve been neglecting you. And I’m sorry.”

“I do not feel neglected. My words were not meant to guilt you.”

“I know. And they didn’t. They just pointed out how distracted I’ve been.”

Data held her close, his temple resting against hers. “Allow me to provide an alternate distraction.”

Warmth flooded her system and she relaxed in his arms. “You’re doing a marvelous job.”

They danced for hours. At least it felt like hours. There was no one to interrupt them. No duties to get to. No one to tell them there were other more important things to do. Because at that moment, there wasn’t anything more important than the two of them finally having time alone. Time to just be together.

It was like a dream.

The quiet music. The wine. The dim lights. It was like Data had reached into her subconscious and drew out her deepest desire.

When the music finally faded away and the room was silent, Faith let out a content sigh. “I love you. So much. I never thought I could love someone this much.”

“I never believed I could love at all.”

“Oh, Data.” She slipped her arms around his neck and drew back to meet his gaze. “You’ve been loving people this whole time. In your own way.”

He smiled softly, the beautiful smile that she loved so much. She stopped their dance, stroking his cheek as she admired the face she had committed to memory. Data initiated the kiss, leaning in so quickly it was as if he couldn’t help himself.

His increasing impulsiveness when it came to affection always sent a shudder down her spine.

When they withdrew so she could catch her breath, she brushed her nose against his. “Let’s make use of that big bed in the other room.”

“A wise decision, mi alma.”

#lt commander data #Lt. Commander Data #commander data #data tng #Data Soong #may i?

18 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

First-Line Defensive Pairing

Of all the things they’d done in the last few months, spending the afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream was one of the more ridiculous. Mostly because of the wooden spoons they gave out on the tour. Partially because it seemed Will Scarlet could not stop casting furtive glances at Belle French. Or the heels that always matched her dresses. Maybe because she kept answering his hypothetical questions. And maybe even because he was willing to drift far closer to genuine these days. At least when it came to his feelings for her.

————

Word Count: 3.7K AN: Take two! Ok, so apparently yesterday when I posted this Tumblr thought it’d be a really cool idea to just...reformat the entire story. With whole graphs in totally wrong spots. Anyway, here it is again. Just as ridiculous as yesterday. With just as many Will and Belle emotions. Because that’s a thing I’m doing now, apparently. Writing Blue Line-era Will and Belle. If you’d like more of these flirt-prone idiots, here is their first date and Belle getting annoyed that Will fought someone on the ice. Technically, this was part of the kiss prompts and was “height difference kisses.” I hope the five of you who are interested in this enjoy it. That includes @shireness-says and @eleveneitherway who are mostly to blame for this.

————

“I’m going to ask you a hypothetical question.”

Belle lifted her eyebrows. Let some of that light creep back in her gaze, a flash of amusement that regularly made Will’s stomach leap dangerously close to the base of his ribs. That’s why he did it. Maybe not the rib thing, partially because he wasn’t even sure that was the correct technical term. The rest of it, though. The eye thing. Sure. Definitely. One-hundred percent. Why he’d also made sure the little wooden spoon they’d been given at the start of this tour was still in the corner of his mouth; to guarantee absolute absurdity, and he figured that started when they decided to spend their afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream, but he was willing to take it all a step further.

In the absurdity factor, at least.

Other things were—

Well, it wasn’t as if they explicitly decided to keep the relationship a secret. Not on purpose. Not really. Or come to any sort of legitimate agreement regarding the use of the word relationship. It never seemed...important, honestly. And that was a potentially problematic and lackadaisical approach to someone who made Will smile with an almost alarming consistency in the last few months, but she’d also sort of snuck up on him, and Ariel was going to be so annoying.

About the whole goddamn thing.

She’d never shut up about it, he knew.

So he didn’t push. Belle didn’t, either. An unspoken agreement, that’s what it was. He had other things to do, anyway. Like get ready for a playoff run and ignore the lingering ache in his calves after the echo of Arthur’s whistle stopped ringing in his ears, and, ok, his apartment was starting to feel a little bit larger than it had in a long time, maybe since Killian had moved out, but that was fine. Cup runs did not come because someone was in a relationship. Will had seen that first hand. With Cap, of all people.

Watched the way his whole life had fallen apart around his ankles, little shards of hope and possibility that, Will knew, still threatened the structural integrity of Kilian’s internal organs and all four ventricles of his heart, and he did not understand enough basic biology to be making those sorts of sweeping observations, but Robin had lost someone too and that had been horrible and tragic and—

If Will simply did not want to jinx things, then that was neither here nor there.

Relationship’y speaking.

It was good. They were good. He hated the wooden spoon they gave them to taste test half a dozen ice cream flavors.

He was legitimately worried about getting splinters in his tongue.

No excuses could possibly reason away that problem pre-game.

Belle’s eyebrows were still in the same spot. “You going to follow up on that, or…” “Would you burn a Gutenberg Bible? To stave off the apocalypse and or potential frostbite?” “Those two things go together, do they?” He shrugged. “In this instance, yeah, because—” “—Well, it wouldn’t matter,” Belle said, eyes flitting towards the overly enthusiastic tour guide and the seemingly never-ending history of ice cream, “because I wouldn’t allow myself to be in that position. And I don’t live anywhere near the Public Library. What would I be doing there when the freeze-wave came?” His stomach. Did that thing. Jumped and twisted, got a ten from the Russian judge on its floor routine. He was cautiously optimistic he’d be able to pull off a flawless beam performance too. It was an exceedingly convoluted metaphor. Wrong Olympics, too.

“Does salt air give you mind-reading powers?” “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are,” Belle grinned. Moving her hand faster than he was entirely prepared for ensured that he nearly dropped his small plastic cup of churro churro ice cream. He made noise. Without trying. A hiss and a grunt in the back of his throat that then led to a sound escaping between Belle’s half-hearted scowl, and that sound was closer to a giggle than either of them would ever admit and just enough to mess with his mental faculties a little and the tour guide stopped talking. To stare straight at them.

Color lifted on Belle’s cheeks, ice cream-covered spoon held awkwardly between them.

“As you were, ma’am,” Will said, all false bravado, and that was something of a trend. In several different capacities. It was far too depressing a thought to have while eating cinnamon-flavored ice cream.

Belle elbowed him.

And the tour guide got back to her to spiel. Without a reprimand.

“Say freeze-wave again without laughing.”

Her eyelashes were more of a problem, honestly. Than the eyebrows. Or the specific jut of her chin Will had rather quickly learned meant she was ready to challenge him on some ridiculous topic, fully prepared to argue a position she might not have otherwise agreed with. Only because it wasn’t what he was arguing, and it was easy to understand why she won that Model UN award.

Plus, her eyelashes were just stupid long, and he thought she was really pretty.

Like in a fundamental sort of way.

“Freeze-wave,” Belle enunciated, pausing between syllables for maximum effect, “are you asking me Day After Tomorrow questions because of the ice cream, because I’m a librarian or because you’re the strangest man alive?” She finally ate the rest of the ice cream. It was starting to melt, that was why. This was very melt-prone ice cream. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, “this is really good. Better than mine.” Something popped in his shoulder when he reached towards her plastic cup. He wouldn’t tell Ariel about that, either.

“Which kind is—” Fighting off the objections of a small librarian who resolutely refused to wear anything except heels, no matter what the weather was like, was not usually as difficult as it was in that moment. Will assumed it had something to do with sugar. Or the force of his smile. Robbing the rest of him of energy and the ability to fend off either one of Belle’s fists. “Why are you like this?” “You didn’t want to try peanut and pretzel. With peanut butter swirl.” “Swallowed the flyer for this place while I wasn’t looking, huh?” Sticking her tongue out was distracting. Almost enough that he didn’t notice the absolutely atrocious attempt at impersonating his voice. “Oh, no, no, babe, I don’t want that; you can get peanut butter anywhere. That’s not special.” “Well, it’s not.” “I’m a big fancy hockey player, and I know everything there is to know about ice cream flavors and the potential life-changing palette moment that comes from the sublime combination of salty and sweet.” “Oh, now you’re just taunting me.” Her eyes narrowed, that time. His smile was going to permanently stretch out his cheeks. “You have a disgusting mind.” “You can’t get churro ice cream everywhere, babe.” “I’m going back to get honey later.” Will hummed. Stuck his lower lip out. Noticed that flash return. And hoarded it. Like a relationship—

Ah, fuck.

“Would you burn the Gutenberg Bible?” Her laugh was quickly becoming his favorite sound. Which wasn’t bad, per se. Was just kind of passably concerning. God damn. It was the heels. All of them kept matching the dresses she wore. She kept wearing dresses.

Of course, that was going to mess with Will’s head.

Belle shook her head. “No.” “Historical significance?” “Well, once again, I would not be in that position, would have listened to science and fled to warmer climates, so as not to make myself prey for escaped...what were they? Tigers?” “I honestly can’t remember,” Will admitted.

“This was your hypothetical!”

Heads snapped their direction. Frustration creased the tour guide’s forehead, and they’d paid extra to learn about the history of ice cream. Will had already known about the origins of the ice cream cone, though. So, the whole thing felt almost like a raw deal, and he was far more interested in preserving the color in Belle’s cheeks. He saluted. Who he was saluting was anyone’s guess, but it very likely was the otherwise unengaged teenage kid trudging behind his family who absolutely recognized Will.

“That’s going to end up on sixteen different social media sites,” Belle warned, not quite able to get her voice to an appropriate whispering level.

“So long as he got my good side, you won’t hear me complaining.” “Do you have a good side?”

“Sweetheart, the self-confidence. God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. While practically beaming at him, and Will had to bend his knees to reach, something else creaking in the process, but that was fine, and good, and pretty goddamn fantastic because her lips tasted a bit like chocolate.

“‘S’not your best work,” Belle mumbled, almost entirely into his mouth.

“Brain freeze.” “I would burn no books. That’s my final hypothetical answer.” Her eyelashes must have existed purely to torment him. Leaning back made it clear when they fluttered back open, and he swore there were flecks of gold in her eyes. Maybe he was melting, too. With the ice cream. That was almost poetic. “None at all? What if you were going to die?” “Maudlin.” “I don’t know what that means.” “Liar,” she challenged, another smile tugging at her mouth, and Will was clearly staring at her mouth. Stained slightly with chocolate, as it was. “I stand by it, though. The book stuff, not the commentary on your burgeoning intelligence.” “You want to find a corner to go and make out in?” Different laugh. The kind that came with her head thrown back, hair tickling Will’s forearm because at some point his arm had found its way around her, and touching Belle was becoming something almost close to second nature. “I could keep complimenting you if you want,” Belle said, “or I could give you my reason for not burning books.” “You’re a giant nerd, that’s why.” She clicked her tongue. “Very, very cute nerd, though.” “Betcha say that to all the girls.”

His stomach stilled. Dropped a few inches, for good measure. Below where it was supposed to be, and inching dangerously close to his feet, and what Will could not imagine was a very sanitary floor. The Museum of Ice Cream had a giant sprinkle pit. Nothing about that seemed very sanitary.

“I think stories have a purpose,” Belle said, still not quite whispering but definitely getting there, and he knew. Knew she knew. What he was thinking and feeling and unspoken understanding was quickly becoming the name of this particular game. With them.

Where it wasn’t a game at all.

Damn.

Ariel was going to be so annoying.

“No matter what they are. Shitty as they can be, all those ups and downs, and ridiculous, often unnecessary melodrama. It’s going to matter to somebody. Someone, somewhere, will be living their life and read those words or see those letters, and they’ll think, wow, whoever wrote this, gets me, and it will change everything for them. They’ll go back to it. Find solace and safety in it. Themselves, maybe. They’ll believe everything will be ok. Even if they only think that while they’re reading.” “Don’t forget audiobooks,” Will muttered, voice strangled and tinged with emotion. In the ice cream museum. Figured, honestly.

Belle pinched the side of his wrist.

“Ow. Avoid the bruise further up, please.” “Did you get hit?” Nodding took more energy than it should have, too. She hadn’t been to a game. He hadn’t asked her. What an idiot. “Not bad though, that’s just—” “—Par for the course.” “Mixing idioms, mon trésor.” “Oh, I got that one, actually.” “Slow pitch softball, that’s why,” Will reasoned, some of the tension he wasn’t especially pleased by loosening.

“I think we’re on a roll now.” He hummed. Nodded, again. Curled his fingers into the back of Belle’s dress. Blue, that afternoon. With matching heels. “It all matters,” she added, soft and earnest, and his eyes snapped. To her and with her and that second one didn’t make sense, not really, but he was and wanted to be and that absolutely terrified him.

Of it all falling apart again. Of it not being enough.

He wasn’t enough.

A story no one was ever all that interested in finishing.

“You think?” Belle nodded. “Why’d you start playing hockey?” “Quite a transition.” “Tit for tat, or—no, no, c’mon don’t look at me like that.” Red stained her cheeks, now. Making it difficult to concentrate on anything else, although the desire to kiss her again was a fairly strong second, and that kid was taking more pictures. “That’s not fair.” “You’ve brought this on yourself, babe,” Will argued, and he hoped Lucas didn’t yell. At him. He’d never really listened to the social media rules. “It’s a very long, occasionally depressing story about a kid and his single mom, the second of whom often worked her ass off and her fingers to the bone, and all those other delightfully visual clichés. But then! Who would guess, she got a job picking up extra shifts cleaning at the rink in town. Home to the world’s shittiest ice and loudest Zamboni, it instantly drew the attention of our kid-like hero.

“He was...infatuated, let’s say. With the sounds, especially. Nothing sounds like that first scrape of skates on fresh ice. Full of possibility, you know?” Belle didn’t answer. Will kept talking. “Best noise in the world. And then he learned there were other noises. Pucks hitting the back of nets. Sticks clanging together. Grunts and groans and the game itself, how loud it was. Helped silence some of his thoughts, none of which were ever very good. Lots of worries, some about his very dead sister, then a few more about that mother and her predilection toward clichés.”

“Good word,” Belle murmured. He kissed the top of her hair. The kid was openly staring at them, now.

“Anyway, the crux of the story is that the guy who owned the rink agreed to let the kid play on the rink. Knew the mother, understood her situation, and hockey is expensive. Like, well, we spout all that bullshit about hockey is for everyone, and I’ve got to stand up there and smile and nod and agree, and it’s fucked up because it’s not really true. Hockey’s for rich kids and families with regularly functioning alternators in their car.”

He shook his head. Had to. To chase away the memories and the cobwebs, and Cap knew this, too. Understood it, even. Remembered a life before the Vanklads, and not every kid got the Vankalds, and sometimes Will let himself wonder what would have happened if he’d found the Vanklads. Or their upstate New York equivalent.

Gotten better shin pads, probably.

“Hockey’s an exclusive sorta club,” Will continued, “gotta know someone who’s related to someone else, and they know someone who played, and it’s six degrees of increasingly desperate separation. By some lucky twist of fate, though, Jimmy Newell knew some bastard who knew somebody else, who saw me play, and you don’t say no to USA Developmental. Spent two years in Minnesota, way before Cap did, so he doesn’t get to claim that state as his own.” Belle’s lips twitched. “Good to know, for argument’s sake.” His stomach was becoming a problem.

Heart, too.

Sputtering and slamming, uneven beats that were going to leave another bruise. Will licked his lips.

“I went to Developmental, declared for the draft, got picked by New York, went to college, stayed in college, and the rest is history. As they say.” “They do say that, yeah.” “What’s the next question, then?” “How do you know there’s another question?” “Shot in the dark,” Will shrugged, but that was a lie, and it was getting increasingly easier to read that pinch between her eyebrows. “So, hit me.” “Literally?” “Please do not literally hit me. Locksley’s been feeling the forecheck the last couple’a practices.” “I know what that means!” Someone shushed them. Will couldn’t imagine the color will ever leave Belle’s cheeks.

He kissed the bridge of her nose.

“Who’d you get to teach you French?” “Who said I didn’t just learn French on my own?” “Babe,” she chided, and, well, that was the tipping point. As they say. To his heart and his stomach and—

“You wanna come to a game this series?” Belle blinked. Once, twice. Leaned back. Tilted her head. Likely waited for the camera crew that was inevitably lurking in the corner he was cautiously optimistic they’d make out in eventually. Didn’t happen, though. There was no camera crew.

Just Will Scarlet, professional hockey player, and part-time sap. Standing in one of the more nonsensical museums they’d been to in the last two months. Although they did go to the transit museum on three separate occasions, and he could honestly say he didn’t expect that.

So, maybe this was all just—

Par for the course.

He’d have to make some sort of deal with Eric. To make sure Ariel didn’t proclaim her relationship-plotting victories from a variety of rooftops. Someone in front office had to know someone else with Empire State Building connections.

Zelena probably did.

Ariel would use that.

“Where would I sit?”

He pulled her. Up. With an almost violent amount of force, threatening the safety of both of Belle’s shoulders in the process. But she’d asked the one question he hadn’t totally considered in his half-plotted plan, and getting his mouth back on hers was an acceptable diversion. Plus, she looped her arms around his neck pretty quickly.

Which had to count for something, he figured.

One hand cupped the back of his head, pulling him closer. Like he had any intention of being anywhere else, swiping his tongue against Belle’s lip and swallowing her sigh. They were still in public, technically. Her feet trailed the multi-color carpet beneath them, Will’s arms tightening and his palm flat against her back and her spine, and if she kept rocking up like that, he was going to do something drastic.

Something in the same realm as melting, probably.

Strands of hair tickled his skin, making him tilt his head and alter the angle, and that was entirely appropriate, but getting kicked out of the Museum of Ice Cream would probably make an absolutely fantastic story. Once they told people they were—

Doing whatever it was they were doing.

They’d get there eventually.

“Cap’s sister-in-law is coming,” Will said, not entirely able to catch his breath, “wants to see Kris and—” “—Should I know who that is?” “Works in equipment, and that’s not really the point.” “What is?” “That Little Vankald isn’t super interested in listening to Cap be full older brother on her and, far as I know, is fully capable of getting tickets wherever she wants. Can sweet talk the gold out of anyone’s pockets, and—” “—Wait, wait, are you equating hockey tickets to gold?” “When I’m playing, ma choupette.” “Is that cabbage?” He hummed. Nearly tripped over his own feet trying to hold onto Belle and the mostly melted cup of ice cream and paying for more churro ice cream made perfect sense. At the moment. “One of the kids at school was French Canadian,” Will explained, “used to swear all the time on the ice, and then he’d use stuff like that.” “You’re sharing endearments with a trash talker.” “More or less, yeah. Used to infuriate other guys.” “Who wants to be called a cabbage?” “I think you’re super cute.” Belle scowled. Didn’t argue, though. And Will refused to linger on the beat of his pulse. “I’d really like it if you were there,” he added, “Little Vanklad’ll be cool about it. She owes me. I fed her for a very long time.” “Did you just?” “I make incredible garlic bread; ask anyone.” “Wow,” Belle drawled, “just like people on the street, or…also, do you call her Little Vanklad all the time?” “To her face and behind her back with startling regularity. Not everyone gets my French endearments, babe. Consider yourself lucky.”

She scrunched her nose.

Stayed silent. All Will could hear was the soft explanations of the tour guide, and the questions from tourists who probably also thought going to the Museum of Sex made them edgy. After they bought a STRAND tote bag. God, maybe he was a dick. A judgmental dick, who still had too many thoughts and used an occasionally violent game to silence them by making sure he was the one dictating the noises and the trash talk and—

“Hey, uh, Will...Mr., uh—Mr. Scarlet? Do you think we could get a picture?”

Belle’s lips disappeared. Behind her teeth, and that didn’t do anything to temper the sound of what might have actually been joy. At the prospect of the staring teenager and his photo request.

In the goddamn Museum of Ice Cream.

Giving a jerky nod, Will quickly scanned the kid for any team-branded, but it didn’t look like he was wearing merch and that was a rather small miracle. Far as those things went.

Still, he had been in the middle of a pretty intense internal dialogue and potential freakout, and there was going to be ice cream on his hand if he didn’t throw this cup away.

Belle took the phone.

The kid’s phone.

“Smile,” she instructed, and Will tried. Really. He hoped he didn’t end up looking like a murderer on Twitter or Instagram or whatever kids used, and he had no idea when he got that old. When things started to freak him out, and he let the nerves claw back in, and the worry take root and—

“Hey,” he said before the kid could walk back to his parents and their matching STRAND tote bags. “You think you could take a picture of us, real quick?”

No one had ever moved faster.

In, like, the history of photography.

Circling an arm around Belle’s waist, Will’s smile came a bit easier and that was good because he was totally unprepared for what happened after that. Another instruction and flick of someone’s thumb, but then Belle was on her toes, even with the heels, and her lips were pressed against his cheek and it was like some sort of really exceptional sugar high.

Without the threat of inevitable crash.

Will didn’t think so, at least. He was also pretty positive it wasn’t tigers in The Day After Tomorrow. Wolves, maybe.

“Tell Little Vankald to save me a seat.” “I mean, I don’t think you should call her that.”

Her teeth grazed his jaw. Both of them were laughing in the picture, the kid’s eyes going impossibly wide as Will thanked him. “How hard you think it is to set up an Instagram account?”

#scarlet beauty #scarlet beauty ff #scarlet beauty fic #will x belle #blue line one shots #what did i use yesterday as my tag for this?#so as not to also confuse it with the au of the au staring will scarlet?#defensive!blue line #that wasn't it but it is now #anyway these have been real fun to write #because as we all know i am certified trash for alternate stories in the same 'verse #also giving belle a personality finally is a delight #seriously i hope the five people interested in this enjoy it

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Light My Fire - CH19

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2596

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

The alarm pulls her right out of her sleep but Dean’s already awake. He doesn’t move though.

“I don’t wanna go home,” She mumbles, rubbing at her eyes.

“Me neither,” Dean whispers, “But this is actually the third time the alarm has gone off, so we should maybe get going and pack,”

Her eyes fly open in horror, “Dean!”

“What?” He’s chuckling, kisses her neck, “You looked so peaceful, I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up.”

She rolls away and out of bed while Dean tries to grab her but his hands clutch around emptiness.

They pack in record time and Dean joins her in the shower after. It’s hard to just shower and not do other things like they usually do. It’s hard to not just let him fuck her.

They’re on the plane home, and she sits next to Dean. There aren’t many people on the plane and especially not in the first class. Jack’s sitting on his own in the seat across from Y/N and Dean and he has his earphones in his ears.

After taking off, and after she let Dean help her over her anxiety of flying, she looks over to see how Jack’s doing, sees him looking out of the window as the plane leaves the island.

Dean’s typing away at his phone but he notices her, “Go on, you gotta spend time with him,”

“Yeah,” She smiles and stands up to walk over.

Jack takes his earphones out when he feels her presence. He opens his arms for her to loop her head through, “Hey,”

“I remember you always loved flying,” She smiles.

Jack grins, his lips curve up wide, “It’s awesome!”

Y/N has to chuckle at his enthusiasm, “Don’t get used to it, though.” With the next breath, she adds, “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did. I just thought about you and your education.”

Jack tilts his head to look at her, “It’s okay, Dean’s not bad, you know,”

She looks over to where Dean’s sitting. He’s still typing something into his phone. With a smile, she says, “No, he’s not,”

When they land, they have to say goodbye to Jack because he has to take a connecting flight. She doesn’t really want to let her brother go and clings on to him, her arms wrap around his middle, while Jack rubs her back.

“I’ll see you soon, alright?” She says, “I’ll come visit,”

“Sure,” Jack places a kiss on the crown of her head, “We’ll see each other again in the Summer,”

Y/N looks up to her brother with a smirk on her face. She’s trying her hardest not to cry, “What did you and Dean talk about?”

There’s a grin on Jack’s face when he lowers himself to her level, “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,”

She rolls her eyes at that and Jack laughs.

After they reach Dean’s apartment, Dean goes out to meet with Chuck and Sam. She’s left to unpack and relax but that’s perfectly okay, because she wants to mentally prepare herself for dinner with his parents later.

Y/N really, absolutely, doesn't want to go but she’s still his wife for two weeks. She had asked Dean why he didn’t tell his parents the truth and he just grinned at her, telling her that she didn’t need to worry. That he’ll tell them the truth, that he’ll come clean. That’s the whole purpose of them going there. Because he wants them off his back. They’ve been calling every day apparently, and he just wants them to stop pestering him when he has other things on his mind.

Late afternoon, Dean’s back, and he looks happy. She doesn’t ask, doesn’t really need to know. She’s doing what she agrees to do and the rest is in the hands of Dean and his team.

He takes a shower and she’s finishing her look. Not that there’s too much to finish. She wears the same dress she already wore to the restaurant when they went to meet Chuck. It’s really her best dress, something that parents would probably approve of in their daughter in law. She doubts that Dean’s parents will, but other parents would for sure.

Y/N’s waiting in the living space when Dean walks out of his room, he looks good, wearing trousers and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, top two button loose. The white of his shirt brings out his tan. She can see the freckles, even when it’s darker. It’s a casual look, a mixture between his holiday look and his business look, and he smells heavenly.

He smiles when he walks closer and weaves an arm around her waist to pull her close, “You look beautiful with that holiday glow,”

She has to smirk when he places a kiss on her cheek, “You look great yourself, Mr. Winchester,”

There are tan lines around his crinkles.

“You ready?” He asks and pushes her towards the door, his hand on her lower back.

“‘M not.”

“Yeah,” He huffs out a breath, “Me neither,”

Dean’s parents live in a big villa with a huge driveway. There’s a light up fountain in the middle. It looks like one of the houses she has only seen in movies.

“Wow,” She says in awe.

Rich people really know how to live, don’t they? She can’t even imagine what it’s like to live here, to have grown up here. She can’t imagine what it’s like to have a butler ready to open the door for her. Can’t fathom having chefs and maids, having a driver and personal trainer.

“You grew up here?” She asks him as they step out.

“No,” Dean says, “You’re an employee. You should know about the history of the company and how I got where I am now, no?”

“Ugh, I should, shouldn’t I?” She grimaces and Dean’s full on laughing.

“Dad started from scratch and he made it grow and successful, although I made it grow even more and it’s more successful and bigger than it was under my dad’s wings.” Dean’s hands are on her waist as he leads her up the steps to the front door, “I didn’t exactly grow up poor, Y/N, but we weren’t rich either. Dad only bought this property two years ago. The home I grew up in is much, much smaller.”

“Is there something I need to know before I meet them? Something I shouldn’t say?”

Dean stops, places his hand on her shoulder to turn her towards him. He pretends to think and after a while he says, “No, you just be you, okay? I would never ask you to change to impress them. Let me speak. Only speak when you’re spoken to. That way we can avoid any unpleasant questions they might throw at you.”

“Okay,” She says, and suddenly her heart pumps faster. She’s nervous as hell.

He smiles a little, cups her chin between his thumb and forefinger, “You’ll be fine, I got you,” He pecks her lips, lingers there a little longer than necessary.

Although she wants to stay like this, she knows that Dean eventually has to pull himself away, eventually has to ring that damn door and she eventually has to face her fake fucking in-laws.

A maid opens and they step into a big hall. Everything looks so neat and flawless. It’s all white and beige marble, and she feels the urge to take off her shoes because she doesn’t want to ruin the floor.

“There you are!” A woman walks in, tall, blonde, a smile wide on her face. She assumes that it’s Dean’s mother. The woman’s dress is so nice, it puts her nicest dress to shame.

The woman comes closer and Dean leans in to peck her cheek, then he straightens himself, “Y/N, this is my mother, Mary.”

Mary takes her hand in both of hers, clutches at them tightly, “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Y/N.”

“It’s nice meeting you, too, Mary. Thank you for having us over.”

“Ah, it’s no big deal. We were dying to meet you! Come on, John’s already waiting at the table, he’s hangry,” Mary chuckles and places her hand around Y/N shoulders to walk her into the dining room. Dean sighs and trails behind.

Dean’s father stands up from his chair when he sees them walking in, and he smiles. It’s bright and wide, almost the same smile as Dean’s. She can see that he certainly got his boyish charms from his father.

John places both of his arms on her shoulder and leans in to peck her cheek immediately, “Hello, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

She nods, repeating the same line she already said to Mary and they sit down right away. Apparently his parents don’t mess around. Maybe they want to get it over with as much as she does?

The first question comes during the appetizer, “How did you meet? At the workplace or did you know each other before?” The question came from Mary and although she looks at Y/N, she didn’t address her directly, so Dean takes a napkin and brushes at his lips before he swallows and speaks.

“Y/N used to work in the coffee shop close to the office building and she regularly delivers coffee for other offices there. I walked out one day to grab lunch and she bumped into me. I could have saved her from falling, but the collision spilled the coffee, wetted my suit too.”

She squints at the memory. It was all her fault. She wasn’t looking at that time. Dean was so pissed and she was afraid that he would lash out and rip her a new one right there in the street, but he didn’t. He was dressed so nice that day and she had to go and pour coffee all over him, ruining his suit and probably his day.

Dean is looking over to her with a small smile on his face, “And I went in there about a week later. She thought I was there to talk to her manager, but I just wanted to see if her ankle was fine because I remember her limping a little afterwards. I watched her work and saw how she reacted under pressure, saw how she behaved around her colleagues and customers and that’s when I thought that I wanted to offer her the job as one of my assistants. Ruby needed help and she already knew Ruby because Ruby was in that coffee shop quite often. She said no. But I went in every day until she said yes.” He leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. It makes her face flare up. Partly from the kiss but also from the way he remembered details.

It’s true, though. Y/N remembered him telling her about a job that would be perfect for her. That she could earn much more by working for him. She had consulted with Ruby about it and after weeks of Ruby telling her that the company was really good, she finally agreed to the job offer.

“That’s a lovely story,” Mary says, “Does she have the required degree though?”

Well, Mary, she does not, but thanks for asking.

Y/N never attended college having to take jobs to hold her and Jack above water.

“Mom, a degree is just that, a degree. It doesn’t say anything about your work ethics, your integrity or willingness to work a job. I don’t think most of the people I employ have made it through college. It’s about what they are capable of. She’s smart and she’s doing a fabulous job.” Dean’s voice rolls deep. She can feel that he’s trying to keep himself together.

The maid came to take their empty plates. Hers is not empty but her appetite is gone.

“Still, it tells me that she’s not actually qualified to do her job. And qualifications are important.” John chimes in with a somewhat unnecessary addition.

“Do you have a prenup?” Mary asks.

Wow, Dean’s mom goes straight to the point. She wonders how long Mary’s been holding it back. But hey, Mary made it past appetizer.

“Mom!” Dean gets a little louder.

“Relax, Dean, I was just asking,” Mary tries to sound nonchalant but adds with her next breath, “Do you?”

Y/N folds her napkin and places it neatly on the table before she stands up, “Excuse me, where’s the powder room?”

“Tessa can show you,” Mary says, a fake small smile on her face, and then she calls out for the maid, “Tessa, can you please show Y/N the way?”

“Sure, madam,” Tessa looks at Y/N with pity in her eyes. She must have heard the whole conversation.

She follows Tessa and locks herself into the bathroom, which is bigger than her fucking apartment it seems.

After a while of watching youtube videos, she walks out and crosses the entrance section. She can hear that there’s a heated argument going on in the dining room.

“Always make fucking sure to protect your assets! I thought you had a fucking brain!” It’s John’s voice.

“Stop it, dad!”

“Damn, son! I thought you would be better prepared so not let some girl screw you over!”

“I don’t have a prenup because we are not fucking married, alright? It’s just for fucking show!” Dean’s so loud, it makes her jump and his words hurt, it really does. He’s not wrong but they hurt nonetheless.

“What do you mean it’s fake?” It’s now Mary who asks the question.

“It’s as fake as it can get. I am being blackmailed and I have to pretend to be married to Y/N to get the other girl off my fucking back!”

She hears Mary gasps, “Oh, thank god,” And then his mother adds, “I thought it was real how you gushed over her. I’m so glad it’s fake,”

“Mom—”

Y/N’s heard enough.

She walks straight to the door. She wants to be quiet, but the door’s heavy and it closes with a bang. She’s halfway to the car when Dean flies out, calling after her.

Damn his fucking long legs. He’s grabbing at her to turn her around and she can’t hide it. Can't hide the tears that are running down her cheeks.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” She says, but she doesn’t look him in the eyes, “My home.”

Y/N’s angry, but she can’t quite tell him why. She can’t tell him that hearing him telling his parents that what they have is fake, hurts her because he’s actually not wrong. It’s the fucking truth and if she has a problem with it, it’s her own fucking problem. It’s not her place to be angry because everything is indeed fucking fake!

She shakes him off and Gabe opens the door for her to get in. “I need space, Dean. Give me that. Make some excuse for me.”

She expected him to lash out, to be angry at her and demand of her to hold on to the contract and make her stay, but he doesn’t. He steps back and nods, “I understand,” He turns to Gabe, “Drive her home safely and come back,”

With that, he closes the door and lets her drive a way. Gabe didn't talk the whole way which she’s glad about.

Before she gets out, she takes off her rings, figuring things were over anyway, and hands them to Gabe.

CH20

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #nathalie writes

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julyarchives · 3 years

Text

So Bad

You couldn’t find a better way to put your feelings into words, so you let a song speak for you when you couldn’t hold back your feeling for Changgu.

→ Pairing: Yeo One x Female Reader

→ Genre: Fluff; Song Fic

→ Words: 1.9K

→ Contains: song inspired plot and mention of that song; StayC - So bad

→ A/n: Thank you so much for the sweet �� anon who requested this story and introduced to us this really cool song. Writing this was really fun and we hope you enjoy reading it!

There is sort of a sequel for this story, that you can check it here

When you auditioned to be a trainee, the last thing you expected was to fall in love. Especially with your senior. But you also didn't expect to be friends with the sweetest man you've ever met. You first knew Changgu as Yeo One, and he was a just a professional you looked up to, but then he turned out to be a really thoughtful person and always helped you with your choreographies, vocals and stage presence training. In the end, you became good friends, but to you there was something more since the beginning.

He ended up being your best friend and spending all free time together having platonic lunch dates in between schedules and just hanging out all the time. But everything he does built up in you a feeling that was harder and harder to keep it to yourself, and you were beginning to take notice that he might just feel the same.

That's when you started to get bold. Here and there you would risk to hold his hand, to which he would blush like mad and stutter around "what are you doing" and avoid to look you in the eyes for the next 20 minutes. You would cook him lunch and drop by his dorm sometimes, and one day when you felt particularly confident, you risked a kiss on the cheek when saying goodbye after a shopping date - his reaction was priceless and cute.

But it was hard to get something from him, he was either too shy or too scared to face that he might like you the same way you like him, but you were tired of this, so you decided to put an end to all the chase games and just confess to him. Though it wasn't something easy to do, to simply put your feelings into words, you didn't even know where to begin. Finally, you had the best idea.

You dressed up in your cutest outfit and carefully styled yourself, wishing everything to go flawless. You texted Changgu to meet you at the practice room, and he showed up just on time as you were finishing to get everything set up.

"So" you began, butterflies dancing around in your stomach "I’ve been trying to say something lately, but I didn’t exactly know how to do it, so I hope this says it all.”

Changgu nodded, taking a seat on the corner of the room, watching you attentively.

The music began and you threw yourself in it with all of your passion.

You stole my heart

I need your love

I need the patch of love

Call me next to you

And I’ll never go away

If I show you everything in my heart

Then it’s no good

I don’t care if you call me childish

I like it like that

You sang and didn’t break eye contact, Changgu smiled shyly at your confidence.

Baby, no matter how much you push me away

Things won’t change

It’s clear that I like you

I can’t help it

For real, I want you so bad

I need you, yeah

My my my my head,

my head

Is filled with you baby

From the start, I want you so bad

I can’t ever stop

My my my my heart,

my heart aches

Because of you

You approached him and pulled him by the hand so he was standing in the middle of the room, and you danced the choreography around him. His gaze was trained on you, and you felt proud and confident, finally getting the message to him.

The music came to end and you stopped directly in front of him, you two staring at each other in silence until you spoke up.

“Was I clear enough this time?” you grinned victoriously as he looked at you in awe

“Do you really mean that?” He said, the shy smile you loved bright is his lips.

“Of course, I thought I was obvious all this time” you laughed together

“But y/n” he held your hand, and your heart skipped a beat at the gesture “are you sure you want this? It could be dangerous, if anyone finds out about it it could delay your debut or…”

You cut him.

Your lips gently touching his’ caught him by surprise, yet he didn’t pull away. It was just a shy peck, just testing waters and seeing if he was really in for it.

“I don’t care, Changgu, I just wanna be with you” you said once you broke apart. His usual blush was more prominent and you took a step back, just in case he needed space.

“Y/N, I feel kind of bad for making you so much that you had to confess… I’ve liked you since you first showed up…”, he held your hand once again and it was then you noticed you were slightly shaking. “I was scared to make a mistake, to put our careers at risk. Not to mention I wasn’t sure if you felt the same”, you opened your mouth to say otherwise but he smiled and raised a finger, mentioning for you to wait, “now I know I was just insecure but it’s hard, especially in our reality, you know?”.

You nodded at his words, your heart feeling like it would beat out of your chest and you could only feel more love for him as he spoke. He was looking at you with care and it was so soft you almost melted away. The hand that held yours was moving so it could caress your arm, then up to your shoulder and then your cheek, his smile never faltering.

“Truth is, I always felt like you were special. You had a sparkle and such energy in you, you were always so sweet and kind, there was no way I could help falling for you”, his shy smile now was filled with confidence and a determination you only saw when he was practicing.

It was Changgu’s turn to kiss you, a sweet peck on the lips. It was longer than the first one and you decided to hold his arm to continue on. It was what he needed to hold your waist and your neck and pull you closer for a much deeper kiss. Your mouths moved loudly enough to make you blush but you didn’t care. It was heaven and you couldn’t get enough of him, his perfume stronger from being so close to him. You let out a small whine when he parted the kiss, earning a giggle from him.

“See? You’re so cute, Y/N. How could I not want you for myself?”. You smiled. He took your breath away in every sense possible and you loved it.

“You never thought I could be so bold, right Changgu?”, you poked his chest, laughing along with him.

“I didn’t. I actually thought I’d lose my restraint and confess some day randomly when we were having lunch or something. But you beat me to it and even prepared something, I need to up my game, Y/N!”, you two laughed and you turned, embarrassed, with the excuse of having to clear the practice room before someone could walk in.

Changgu wordlessly helped you, both of you nervous but also happy, moving in sync with each other around the room. When everything was back in their place, you both stared at each other for a few seconds before Changgu picked your purse for you and held out his hand. You took it without a second thought and walked out of the building. Thankfully it wasn’t filled with people so you two went unnoticed. Your feet stopped at the bus station and you stared at him with questioning eyes.

“Where are we going?”, your hand never left his and you could feel his confidence as he stood straight, proudly holding you. That got the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy and you couldn’t help to smile at him.

“I’m taking you to dinner. In fact, wait here”. Changgu kissed your forehead and walked away to dial on his phone. You shrugged and hoped he wouldn’t blow his money on a fancy restaurant that you needed to make a reservation to go to. He came back a few moments later with a sleazy smile and held your hand again.

“So, what was that about?”, you were even more confused at his actions when he smiled brightly and shook his head “no”, as if he wouldn’t tell you.

“I’ll tell you later, the bus arrived”!, he guided you into the bus and you questioned yourself how lucky he could be to be saved by the timing of the bus.

The ride was a few long minutes, with you two sharing earphones and listening to the most romantic playlist you had saved on your phone. The hands clasped together were hot and you were slightly scared of them getting sweaty, but when you moved to pull it back, Changgu held it tighter with a nudge shoulder to shoulder. When the bus finally came to a stop where Changgu got up and you followed, you had to walk a few more blocks before you saw a sweet looking old lady waving at him with some of his friends next to her. You took a look at him and he only waved back, holding you close.

“Hello, my boy! The girl is beautiful! Even more than what I imagined. The boys and I got it all ready, you know where everything is, make yourself at home! We’ll be back in three hours!”, the lady spoke quickly with the most pleasant expression you ever saw. She nodded at you and at him, mentioning for his friends to come along with her and they only followed, nodding to the both of you on their way out.

“Let’s get inside”, he said happily.

You followed with answering as he was already moving, it was clear he was in a rush, nervous even. When you managed to get inside the place, you noticed it was a small family business restaurant, the aesthetic was very cozy and the decorations made you feel at home. The smell of food made your mouth water so fast that you had to stop yourself from following the scent. You saw one table prepared in the middle of the room, all the others were stored like the place was closed. The table was set with white and red cloth and fine yet homely porcelain plates with some cute glasses. There were flowers around, not much but enough to make the place look like a dream. You felt your eyes watering and your hands started to shake again.

“Changgu, what-”, you turned to ask him but he was standing tall next to you, holding a small bouquet of colorful flowers.

“I told you I needed to up my game”, he laughed softly, “I told you everything before, Y/N, but I want to tell you again that I won’t be scared anymore. I can face anything, even the consequences, if I have you. The song you sang was always in my mind when I looked at you so you couldn’t pick up a better song”, he held your hand, tears now falling freely from your eyes.

“From the start, I want you so bad…”, he sang low. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”.

#Yeo One #Fluff #Changgu #changgu x reader #changgu fluff #pentagon fluff #yeo one x reader #yeo one imagine #yeo one scenario #yeo one fanfic #changgu imagine #changgu scenario #changgu fanfic #pentagon changgu #pentagon smut #pentagon scenario #pentagon imagine #pentagon fanfic #song fic

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

Logan's Flawless Plan to Getting Out of Being Sick

Ao3

Summary: Logan was sick. He was well-aware of this fact. He was also well-aware that he had better things to be doing than lying about and ‘resting.’ His husband disagrees Content: Sickfic, fever + coughing are the only mentioned symptoms, brief unsafe binding, one alcohol mention, taking more medicine than the dosage amount, the consequences of that (gaps in time/memory, minor hallucinations, senses going fuzzy), half-collapsing, swearing, transmale!logan, transmale!remy, lots of sappy losleep Pairing: Romantic losleep Notes: Three of them: -Based on this post -You’ll notice Logan doesn’t try to keep Remy from getting sick. This is bc they both know Remy’s already doomed to get sick, given he and Logan live together. This was important to me to say bfchsdf -This story’s in Logan’s POV. And Logan is very loopy. Keep this in mind.

Logan was sick

“You’re not going to work today.”

Terribly, horribly sick.

“Yes I am.”

But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing his job, damnit.

Logan heard his husband sigh as he tried to properly tie his tie for the fifth time. The normally easy, effortless action had become difficult, his fingers slow and fumbling as he tried to pull the loop together. He dropped the fabric with a huff after another attempt failed.

Hands that weren’t his own entered his field of vision, tugging the tie off his neck. “You shouldn’t be wearing this anyways.” Remy murmured, likely tossing it to the side. “You’re already coughing enough without it.”

“I’m not coug-” Logan broke off halfway through his sentence, taking a moment to cough into his arm and think about the irony of the moment, “-coughing that much.”

“Mm-hmm. I call bullshit, darling.” Remy said, brushing some of Logan’s hair behind his ear before resting his hand against Logan’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sick, is what you are.”

“No, I just-” Logan once more paused to cough, Remy guiding him to sit back down on the bed when a few seconds passed and he was still coughing.

“You want to finish that sentence?” Remy asked, tone slightly mocking but mostly concerned.

“Alright, fine. I’m sick.” Logan admitted before continuing on petulantly, “But I’m still going to work.”

“No, you’re not. You’ll just make yourself worse, and you’ll get all your students sick while you’re at it.”

“They have better immune systems, and I‘ll keep plenty of distance between myself and them.” Logan reasoned. “I’m going to work.”

Remy shook his head. “You have a minor death wish, babe. What’s so wrong with staying home and resting and being doted on by your wonderful boyfriend?”

“Husband, Remy, we’re married.”

Remy’s eyes widened in both surprise and recollection, and Logan let out a little content sigh, leaning his head against Remy’s shoulder. “We are, aren’t we?” Remy said, voice joyfully awed.

“We are.” Logan confirmed. “I got you a very pretty ring for it and we exchanged some very cheesy vows and everything.”

“I know. Just forgot for a moment.” Remy said, raising Logan’s left hand so he could press a kiss both to the back of his hand and over his wedding ring. Logan knew he should tell him not to, warn him of germs and the like, but he found it doubtful Remy would listen to him anyways. “Now. What’s so wrong with staying home and resting and being doted on by your wonderful husband?”

“I have important lessons to teach. And it’s unfair to just abandon my students with no warning.” Logan answered. “They at least need a warning that I’m not going to be there tomorrow.”

Remy rubbed circles into the back of Logan’s hand. “You really want to go in, huh.”

“Yes. But only for today, I promise- I’ll stay home tomorrow.”

“I’m not sure you can make it through the day, babe.” Remy said, concern once more leaking into his voice. “Your temp’s real high, and you haven’t even been up for an hour yet.”

“One class then. I can leave a note for the rest of the classes. Please, Rem.” Logan begged. “Just one class.”

Remy pulled his head back a bit, still allowing Logan’s head to remain on his shoulder while also letting him look at Logan’s face. “Why do you want to go in so badly, hun?”

“I promised my students I wouldn’t flake out on them if they didn’t flake out on me. I have to keep that promise.”

“I hardly count being too sick to work ‘flaking out.’”

“Please, Remy, please?” Was Logan’s only response, using his new advantage of Remy being able to see his face by pouting. Remy always folded when he pouted. “One class. Just so I can leave notes for the students. Please.”

Remy’s resolve against his pouting husband lasted for five seconds. “You know I hate it when you do it.” He huffed, though he didn’t sound very annoyed as he moved to card his fingers through Logan’s hair. “One class. That’s all.”

Logan let out a sigh of relief and slumped further against Remy. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” Remy said. “But I’m coming with you to make sure you don’t try to stay longer. And you’re staying home tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. And you’re going to get changed into your comfy clothes. You don’t need to be in your polo and slacks right now.”

“Fine.” Logan said neutrally, still just thankful he had managed to convince Remy to let him go at all. Hopefully, going through the motions of the first class would make him feel better, thereby making him less sick, thereby letting him further convince Remy he was fine enough to work the whole day. A foolproof plan. Probably. “Can I at least leave my binder on?”

Remy went stiff next to him, which Logan thought was rude, considering Remy’s shoulder was much nicer to lay against when the muscles in it weren’t so tense. “Hun, please tell me you’re joking.”

“About what?”

“Having your binder on while you’re having coughing fits, that’s what!” Remy said, sounding slightly frantic. “Love, you know I’d give you anything I could, but you need to take that off. Now.”

Logan whined against Remy’s shoulder, not particularly inclined to feel childish for doing so. “I like it on.”

“I know you do, starshine, and normally I do too, but right now I’d really, really like it if it was off of you, okay?” Remy said, still sounding frantic though his voice was very gentle. Ah. That meant he was really worried. Maybe Logan should take the binder off.

“...Alright.” Logan mumbled, trying to not feel too put out. He was sure there was a good reason Remy wanted him to take his binder off. Granted, at the moment, he couldn’t remember it, but he tried not to worry about that. He didn’t need to remember all the important stuff. Remy would remind him. Remy was good like that. Remy was so, so good.

“Alright. That’s good.” Remy said, sounding calmer. He pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead before getting up, making sure Logan wouldn’t fall over without him supporting Logan’s head before stepping away. “I’mma grab you your sweater, okay? The nice, big lumpy one. And some other comfy clothes. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Logan nodded as he started to tug his shirt off, aware that his polo didn’t count as comfy clothes. Remy nodded with him before turning and wandering out of the room. Logan wasn’t sure where he was going- to be frank, Logan wasn’t completely sure where the door he had gone through led to, but he was sure that wherever Remy was going, it was the right place to be going.

Though it took a fair amount of fumbling, Logan managed to shed his shirt and binder, having moved on to fighting his belt buckle by the time Remy returned.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Remy said, dropping a pile of clothes next to Logan as he easily undid the belt, pulling it free of its loops before helping Logan to pull his pants off as well. “There we go.”

“I took off my binder.” Logan said, a bit abruptly. He knew that Remy could see that the binder was off and next to him, but he felt he had to say it too, just in case, to make sure Remy wouldn’t start sounding frantic and worried again. Logan didn’t like when Remy sounded like that. Remy shouldn’t have to be frantic and worried.

“I know, love, I saw.” Remy said, reaching up to cup Logan’s cheek. “And I’m so proud of you for doing that. You did very good, yeah?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah.”

Remy smiled at him. “Let’s get you into these nice comfy clothes now, okay? Then we can go and make sure you’re not late for class while also being very cozy and very lumpy. And I’ll be lumpy too so we can both suffer the world binder-less together, because I’m pretty sure that’s what true love is.”

“True love is you.” Logan said, and while he wasn’t quite sure where the words came from, or exactly what they meant, he was sure he meant them.

Remy chuckled. “You’re cute when you’re loopy.” He said, picking up the first article of clothing on the pile- a pair of dark sweatpants. “Now come on. Let’s get you dressed.”

It took ten minutes for Logan to get dressed, mostly because he insisted on trying to put on each article of clothing himself, only to be forced to accept Remy’s help when he proved unable to fully pull anything over his head. He did, however, manage to get the pants on by himself, and he decided that was the greatest achievement of his life.

Remy got himself dressed while Logan put on his shoes and prepared his ‘secret weapon’, only taking three minutes to get on an outfit nearly identical to Logan’s, which Logan considered to be unfair. He looked good, too, even in his bigger jacket and with his tousled hair. Logan felt and looked like a lump. A hot, frustrated lump. Though maybe that was the minor fever.

Logan took a swig of his secret weapon and tried not to choke on the taste. Hopefully the fever would be taken care of soon enough. And he could deal with being a lump if it made Remy happy.

At Logan’s grimace after his sip, Remy, who was waiting for his coffee to finish brewing, raised an eyebrow. “Forgot to add the sugar to your tea?”

Logan shook his head. “Not tea.”

“...What is it?”

“My secret weapon.”

Remy frowned. “Logan, honey, I can’t let you drink vodka while you’re sick. Or whiskey. Or whatever alcohol you have in there. And I definitely can’t let you bring it to school-”

“It’s not alcohol!” Logan defended, just managing to bite back on a ‘mostly.’ That wasn’t going to help him or his mission.

Remy’s eyes widened. “Rat poison is worse.”

“Why do you- it’s not rat poison either, I promise.” Logan said, taking Remy’s hand and squeezing it. “It’s just some tea. My throat’s raw, that’s all.”

“...I thought it wasn’t tea?”

“Did I say that?” Logan asked, because he really wasn’t sure. Everything felt fuzzy, memory included. He hoped that meant the secret weapon was kicking in and not that his fever was getting worse. He had things to do.

Remy was still watching him a bit too closely and Logan realized he hadn’t given a very good answer. “We should be going.” He said, hoping that would distract Remy. He knew pushing the point that he was only drinking tea would result in Remy wanting to taste said tea to be sure he wasn’t lying and Logan knew that wasn’t going to work.

Luckily for him, Remy let it slide.

“Yeah, we should.” He agreed, reaching over to grab his coffee before wrapping his free arm around Logan’s waist, pulling him close as they started to head for the door. “I already got the keys in my pocket.”

“I can walk perfectly well on my own, you know.” Logan pointed out, even as he leaned into Remy’s grasp. Just because he didn’t need to be coddled didn’t mean he didn’t like to be near to his husband.

Remy chuckled. “I know, babe, but I also know that you keep wobbling with every other step. I don’t need you adding a bad fall to your list of problems.” He teased. When he got to the door, however, he stopped before opening it, glancing at Logan with light concern. “Are you sure you want to go to work? I know you want to warn your students you’ll be gone, but the more rest you get, the quicker you’ll be better-”

Logan silenced Remy by leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’ll be just fine, dear.” Logan said as smoothly as he could. “But your worry is appreciated.”

Remy didn’t seem wholly convinced, but he still nodded, pressing a quick return kiss to the top of Logan’s head. “Alright. I believe you.” He said before he moved to open the door, somehow managing the feat despite still holding his coffee cup. Leaning slightly more into his touch, Logan allowed Remy to lead him out to the car.

The ride to the university Logan worked at was unimpressive, mostly due to the fact that Logan barely remembered a minute of it. He felt as if all his senses were going fuzzy at the edges, what little focus he had left becoming untrustworthy as he could’ve sworn he saw green stars dancing across the windshield at some point during the drive. The lack of feeling was, however, sufficiently numbing the pain of his fever, so Logan was taking that as a plus.

He only realized they were at the university when Remy was shaking his arm, looking at him funny as Logan partially snapped out of the daze he had been in.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sugar?” Remy asked, sounding once more worried. Logan frowned. He didn’t want Remy to sound worried. “We can go home if you need to…”

Logan shook his head instinctively when he heard home. He couldn’t go home. The whole point of this was to be at work and get into his schedule and pretend everything was fine until it was and feel better so that Remy didn’t have to be worried.

“If you’re sure.” Remy said, though he certainly didn’t sound very sure. Logan frowned more as Remy helped him get out of the car, leaning against him without comment this time. Remy made a very good support. Especially when the entire world was jumping up and down. Repeatedly.

The walk from the parking lot to his classroom was not one Logan remembered, but Logan tried not to let that bother him. He must have drunk more of his secret weapon, though, because the world was starting to become easier to focus on again. The world was also filled with purple and yellow scars that seemed to be tearing apart the fabric of reality, but Logan was fairly certain those were always there.

A blink took him from outside his classroom to inside, where he found his class already waiting for him, all eyes on him and Remy as soon as they entered. Good. They were there, and he could see them clearly. Double win.

“Professor…?” One of the students (send Logan home if he knew which one) said hesitantly. Probably confused by why Remy was there.

Logan patted Remy’s shoulder, hoping that would signal to him that Logan didn’t need his support anymore. Remy promptly let go of him, albeit slowly, watching Logan carefully to make sure he didn’t fall over the moment he stood on his own. Did Logan wobble? No, not at all.

...Maybe a little.

Logan rubbed at the new bruise he had on his hip that may or may not have come from him stumbling into a desk, hard. Okay, maybe a lot. But it was fine, he was fine- he hadn’t fallen over, yet, and that was what really mattered.

By the time he had made it to his desk, set in the center of the front of the room for a reason Logan was sure was very logical, all eyes were on him, including the eyes that were normally still on their phones or closed in faux rest. Another point in his favor. No need to call the class’s attention when he already had it.

Of course, now he needed something to start the lesson with. What was the lesson anyways? Actually, while he was wondering, what class did he teach? How was Logan going to start a class he knew nothing about?

Logan’s gaze flickered to the corner of the classroom, ignoring the sea of concerned looks from his students to focus on the concerned look from Remy, who had even taken his sunglasses off just so Logan could see it. If he had ever had them on. Had he? Didn’t matter. Unimportant. What was important was that Logan had an idea: if he didn’t know how to start class, he would simply steal Remy’s style.

That thought (and no others) in mind, Logan slammed his thermos on top of his desk.

The entire class, Remy included, startled at the noise, all thrown off by it. The only reason it didn’t startle Logan was because he didn’t hear it. At the newly bewildered expressions of everyone in front of him, he cleared his throat, still channeling Remy as he began,

“There’s more pressure in my sinuses right now then there is at the bottom of the sea.” A lie- the real problem Logan was dealing with at the moment was the fever he couldn’t feel but could taste (it tasted peppery, which was appropriate, Logan decided). That and the fact that Logan didn’t think it was humanly possible for his sinuses to be more pressurized than the bottom of the sea. Maybe it was. He should test that.

But not now. Now the class was clearly waiting for him to continue, and continue he would, because he had planned an entire paragraph of this and he was going to say all of it so long as he had vocal cords.

“This,” Logan paused. The container in his hand had a name. Too bad he couldn’t remember it. Logan clicked his tongue, deciding a substitution would have to do before he started again, “This thing’s full of NyQuil.”

That sparked a reaction- gasps from multiple students, and one person he was fairly certain was his husband yelling, “That thing’s full of WHAT!?” Logan nodded to himself. Good. Reactions were good. They meant that his class was following along.

“I’m going to drink it while I teach,” Logan went on, ignoring the continued gasps of shock and possible horror, “and when your heads are replaced by swirling rainbows, I will cancel the rest of class.”

That, of course, was a ridiculous timeline to set. The students’ heads would never become rainbows, swirling or otherwise, which mean Logan wouldn’t have to cancel class, which meant he could teach the full class, which would certainly go over as well in reality as it had in his head, and when Remy saw how well he was doing he’d let him teach for the whole day through. It was a foolproof plan. He truly was a genius.

“Professor… is that safe?”

Logan was pulled from his thoughts and mental back patting by one of the students in the front row. He wasn’t quite sure who they were, probably because their face was blurring into the student’s next to him. He took a swig of the NyQuil. Hopefully that would fix things.

“It’s perfectly safe, as long as I don’t die while doing it.” Logan answered, which was true. Another true thing was that Logan… didn’t know if this was safe. But NyQuil was medicine, so it couldn’t be too bad to take extra of it, right? Right. Right right right right right right-

“Sir, maybe you should go home.” Another student spoke up, sounding concerned. A chorus of agreeing murmurs rose at the suggestion.

“That’s what I told him to do!” Remy added from his spot leaning against the back wall. “But he said he had an obligation to not ‘flake out’ on all y’all lovelies.”

“That’s a great sentiment, prof, but uh… really unneeded.” A student who Logan could see right through said. “We’ll be fine without you for a bit… you should get your rest.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Logan said dismissively, taking another sip from his thing of NyQuil. He no longer cringed at the taste, mostly due in part to the fact he could no longer feel his tongue- therefore meaning he could no longer taste much of anything. “I’m perfectly fine to teach. There’s no need for me to rest.”

“Bullshit.” Remy said, pushing off of the wall and walking towards the stairs, though he didn’t go down them just yet. “I love you hun, but that’s bullshit. Do you even know what you’re teaching today?”

Logan frowned. “Of course I know. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Then teach us.” A student near the back said, which Logan considered rude, because he was fairly certain that student was ganging up with his husband to… something. They were certainly doing something. Something trap-y probably. Normally Logan was very good at avoiding traps. But he had to see them coming to do so.

“I will.” Logan told them flatly, doing his best to look as put-together as he could as he turned down to look at his desk. Surely, his lesson plan was somewhere there. That would have all the answers he currently couldn’t remember.

Luckily for him, his lesson plan was right in the middle of the desk, easy to see and grab. Perfect. Now, if the words on it would just stop dancing, Logan would have everything he needed to convince his husband and class he was perfectly fine.

Logan drank more of his no-longer-a-secret secret weapon as he lifted the paper up to his face, hoping that by decreasing the distance between his face and the paper he would also decrease the dancing of the letters. He was fairly certain it would work because ‘distance’ ‘decrease’ and ‘dance’ all started with the letter ‘d.’

Sadly, his perfect theory was somehow proven wrong- the letters got closer together when he raised the paper, but they didn’t stop dancing, now waving and wiggling in place, as if to spite Logan and his attempts to read them.

“Love?” Logan jerked as he turned towards the source of the word, surprised to find Remy only a few feet away from him. When had he gotten so close? “What are you doing?”

Logan waved his lesson plan at Remy. Wasn’t it obvious? “Checking the lesson plan.” He answered as he took another sip from his thing, ignoring Remy’s frown when he did so.

“I know I’m not a professor, hun, but I think that’s an attendance sheet.”

Now Logan frowned as he moved the paper back in front of his face, squinting at it. It seemed the letters were now willing to still, albeit only a little, just so that Logan could see it was, in fact, a list of student names followed by boxes that, when marked, could indicate a wide variety of things. None of the boxes could, however, tell Logan what his lesson was.

“So it is.” Logan commented neutrally, flipping the paper over to see if perhaps the lesson plan was hiding there. “So it is.”

“Yeah… sweetheart, I’m starting to think it was a bad idea letting you come here.” Remy said, prompting Logan to look up from his search for the lesson plan to focus on Remy instead. That proved hard to do, however, given his face was blurring into a swirl. Logan frowned, feeling distressed. Remy’s face wasn’t supposed to look like that. It was supposed to be pretty and have a chin and brilliant eyes and other features Logan was sure he also loved.

“Your face is wrong.” Maybe if Remy knew his face was wrong, he’d fix it, and it would look right and Logan wouldn’t have to feel distressed and upset and very unable to focus on mundane things such as teaching.

“And you’re proving my point.” Remy responded, though he didn’t seem to be trying to fix his face, which was very unhelpful of him. Though maybe Remy couldn’t see that his face was wrong. Maybe only Logan could because of his stupid fever. Of course it was still messing with him. Nothing another sip of NyQuil couldn’t fix-

“Yeah, we’re not having any more of that.” The thing was taken from Logan’s hands before he could actually get any of the drink into his mouth. He looked at Remy in betrayal as his husband opened the lid and glanced into the container. “How much of this stuff have you drunk, anyways?”

“Not enough.” Logan said, reaching out to take it back. Remy just stepped away, holding the NyQuil out of reach. “Remy.”

Remy just shook his head. “Nope. No more of this for you.”

Logan huffed and stepped towards Remy, reaching out to try and make a grab for the thing. “Let me-”

Remy grabbed the hand that Logan had put out, stopping his attempt and his sentence. “I said nope, sugar.”

Logan’s focus had fallen away from retrieving his NyQuil, however. He was now looking concentratedly at their linked hands, slightly wiggling his fingers in Remy’s grasp- experimentally, not attempting to escape his hold.

“...You good there, hun?”

“Warm.” Was Logan’s only response. Remy tilted his head to the side, confused, before his expression became one of understanding. Still holding Logan’s hand, Remy bent over and placed the thing on the ground before standing back up and moving closer to Logan, taking his other hand in his newly free one.

“Is that nice?” Remy asked, gently, which Logan vaguely registered meant he was trying to lower Logan’s guard and that that was Bad. It was, however, working, as Logan was now fairly certain anything outside of holding Remy’s hands was completely and utterly unimportant.

“Very good.” He said, very eloquently in his opinion. “You’re very good.”

“I know I am.” Remy responded, squeezing Logan’s hands. “I’m so good, in fact, I’m going to take you home now, because I should never have let you leave the house. A mistake, I note, was yours since you used your pout on me knowing full well I would not stand against it.”

“But my classes-”

“Would really prefer you stay home and rest.” A voice that was not Remy’s said. Logan was fairly certain that meant it was one of his students, but he didn’t look to check. He was extremely busy looking at Remy. “You look like you’re going to collapse, prof- just take the day off.”

“I’m fine.” Logan said automatically.

“None of us believe that lie, love.” Remy said as he released one of Logan’s hands. Logan whined at that, and Remy softly shushed him as he moved to rest a hand on Logan’s forehead. “I think the NyQuil’s made your fever worse-”

Remy probably continued speaking after that, but Logan stopped listening, instead choosing to lean into the warmth that was now against his already too-warm forehead. The motion of leaning in was slight, barely a shift at all, but it was also apparently too much, and Logan’s hard fought for balance completely failed him. He tipped forwards, not bothering to try and slow his descent as he began mentally writing his will.

Arms, warm arms, arms that were warm, wrapped around his midsection, stopping Logan from falling all the way over. “And look at that! You’re actually collapsing now. We’re going home, Lo.”

“Mhmmm.” Was all Logan managed. Remy was warm. Remy was really warm. And nice. So nice. Had Logan been trying to work? That seemed silly. Work wasn’t Remy.

Speaking of Remy, he was shifting Logan, pulling him up a bit and resting his head against Remy’s shoulder, arms wrapping more solidly around Logan, all of which were actions Logan was immensely favorable to. He was even warmer, now, and even closer to Remy, and Logan considered these to be very good things.

“I love you.” Logan murmured into Remy’s shoulder, because he decided right then it was very important Remy know that. “You’re very warm. And nice. And warm. And pretty. Very pretty. Too pretty.”

Remy chuckled. “Don’t mind him.” Remy spoke, though Logan got the impression he wasn’t talking to Logan. “He gets sappy when he’s loopy.”

Logan glared at nothing. He wasn’t saying he loved Remy because he was loopy. He was saying that because he loved Remy a lot. More than he loved… planets. And pencils. And peaches.

“You’re not making any sense, starshine.” Remy told him, and Logan realized he had been speaking out loud. Remy pressed a kiss to the top of Logan’s forehead, and he melted even further into his grasp. “But I love you too.”

Logan smiled into Remy’s shoulder, ignoring the background noise of ‘awww’s he was sure was coming from his class. Remy scoffed at them.

“Can we go home now?” Logan asked, because home had bed and bed meant lying down and most of the time lying down meant lying down with Remy and that sounded very nice to Logan right then.

“Of course, honey. Can you walk?”

Logan considered the question for a moment. He probably could walk, if he put his mind to it, given he had mostly walked here and he had been walking earlier. But, if he was going to be Logan (and not Frank, why would he be Frank if he was telling the truth-), he didn’t particularly want to put his mind to it. So he shook his head.

“I think you’re lying.” Remy said, but he still shifted so he could pick Logan up- a move he had perfected back in their courting days as soon as he learned it was a near guarantee to fluster Logan. Instinctively, Logan’s arms wrapped around the back of Remy’s neck and he once more tucked his head into Remy’s shoulder.

“Do you guys, uh… know what to do from here?” Remy asked, the question clearly directed at Logan’s class. “Because I don’t think you’ll be seeing your teach for a good week.”

“You said two days.” Logan mumbled into Remy’s shoulder, though not very aggressively.

“Yes I did.” Remy agreed as he started moving, assumedly towards the door. “That was before you drank half a bottle of NyQuil in an hour and collapsed.”

Logan nodded into Remy’s shoulder. That made sense. Remy was good at sense. Remy was good at a lot of things.

“If anyone asks, we’ll say the professor was here for the full period before leaving.” A student assured Remy.

“And I’ll hold onto his thermos until he gets back!” Another chimed in. “Since you probably want to keep the NyQuil as far away from him as possible for now.”

The class laughed and Remy did too. “Yeah, no, I’m tossing out whatever NyQuil’s left at home. If you get a chance, I highly suggest you dump out the contents of the thermos too.”

“Will do!”

Logan felt Remy nod his head. “Great. So… that was easier to settle than I expected. Though I guess you’re all getting a free class period now.”

“We’ll use it responsibly, Mr. Professor’s Husband.”

“You don’t need to lie to me, kid, I skipped every class I could get away with.” Remy said before he pressed another kiss to Logan’s head. Logan, who was more or less completely asleep, made a little happy noise. “And then I married a teacher. Life’s funny.”

Remy let out a happy little sigh and Logan smiled at his happiness. “That’s enough from me. You kids have a nice day.”

And there was a good chance that something else was said or done after that, but it truly was very cozy pressed against Remy’s chest, and Logan saw no reason to bother keeping awake when Remy was taking care of everything so well. So he didn’t.

Logan wasn’t sure when he woke back up, but he didn’t mind that much. He did know that he was at home and in bed and that was nice. Logan also knew that the NyQuil was at least partially out of his system because his fever was back and it was back with a vengeance. He groaned, turning over and pressing his face into the nearest pillow.

Next to him, he heard Remy laugh, and a hand soon settled in Logan’s hair to card fingers through it. “Hey there, darling.”

“I feel like shit.”

“That’s what happens when you’re sick but you still try to go to work.” Remy softly teased. “And when you drink way too much NyQuil.”

“It was my secret weapon.” Logan protested. Remy laughed again.

“Maybe stick to the more conventional methods of healing next time?” Remy suggested.

“Cuddles?”

“I was thinking more homemade chicken soup and watching old game show reruns, but I suppose cuddles might work too.” Remy said. “Why? Is there a particular reason you mention cuddles?”

Logan huffed as he flopped over, glaring at a very amused looking Remy as he grabbed at his shirt, tugging as well as he could on it to try and pull Remy down. “Don’t be obtuse.”

“Oh you’re so weak- oh, babe, this is sad-” Remy laughed at Logan’s poor attempts to force him to cuddle, gently taking Logan’s hands and holding them in his own. Remy smiled at him. “You’re cute.”

“I’m sick.” Logan responded. “Cuddle me.”

“And why should I do that, now?”

“Because you love me.” Logan told him, shuffling over a bit so that he was closer to Remy, making the pout he then put on more effective. “And I love you.”

“I can’t believe you’re using the pout again.” Remy chided.

Logan pouted harder.

Remy sighed, but he still pulled up the edge of the blankets and sheets, sliding in next to Logan. “One of these days I’m going to find a way to say no to you, you know.”

Logan wrapped his arms around Remy’s chest, pulling him closer and turning his chest into a pillow. “But will you want to?” He mumble asked, not as concerned with the answer as he was with falling back asleep and trapping Remy on the bed with him.

Remy chuckled as he wrapped his arms around Logan as well, seemingly completely alright with becoming trapped as he dropped a kiss on Logan’s forehead. “Never. Because while you may have proven today that you can be wrong of many things, you did get one thing very, very right.”

“Oh?” Logan hummed, only half-interested in knowing what he had gotten right.

“Even if you do stupid things like go to work sick and bind while sick and try to drink NyQuil like it’s water, I still love you.” Remy said sweetly, once more running his fingers through Logan’s hair to help further lull him back asleep. “And as such I will always want to say yes to you.”

Logan let out a small laugh. “You’re a sap.”

“You should’ve heard yourself earlier, hun.” Remy said, chuckling when Logan’s only response was a hum and snuggling closer to Remy. “I’ll tell you about it later. Go to bed, starshine. I’ve got nowhere else to be and nothing better to do than love you.”

Deciding he’d mock Remy’s accidental rhyme later, Logan happily did as his husband said, putting aside the burn of his fever to focus on Remy’s comfortable, loving warmth, quickly falling into a sleep as gentle as Remy’s embrace.

#losleep #ts logan #ts sleep #ts remy #the cryptid speaks #fanfic #fanfiction #ts sides #sanders sides #sickfic #this is v self-indulgent i hope y'all know shbdjfs #also i dislke the ending but eh endings always suck abfhsjdf #bls enjoy my chaotic stupid logan and his loving husband #also i've never taken too much nyquil so idk if logan's experience is accurate #bls for the love of goodness do not test this #don't be chaotic stupid that's logan's job

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

On Track

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho

Genre: Married Life AU, Romance

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 11K

Summary: Despite her reputation, Y/N is considered one of the very best agents in the music industry. Of course, it doesn’t help that she married one of her clients---notoriously stubborn and arrogant Lee Minho AKA the extremely talented Lee Know whose silky voice and amazing choreographies appeal to an enormous fan-base. A pop singer who prefers to work alone, Y/N usually obliges Minho’s preferences...until her boss demands that he collaborate with the up-and-coming and multi-talented trio, 3racha.

Well, nobody ever said that married life is easy.

For: @hwngjn

There’s a certain decorum involved with the management of arrogant pop singers who think the entire world revolves around their singular existence. In my experience, if you want to tame these wild inclinations, then it’s best to do one of the three things: 1) leave the company ASAP with a two-week notice and a heartfelt plea for a good recommendation, 2) tolerate the existence of this pop singer and hope that he matures with age, or 3) marry this pop singer because you fell in love without understanding the fraternization clause of your contract.

Allow me to elaborate: options one and two will leave you with enough room to continue rising through the ranks without much conflict with upper management. You see, I have firsthand knowledge because I lived through the ensuing outcomes, leaving my first job at the tender age of 23 with very little knowledge and then arduously suffering at my next position with a female artist who insisted on testing my patience. But then again, if you choose to skip options one and two and pursue option three, then you better learn to live with the consequences because it will bring the most long-term effects.

Let me start from here because, for the most part, the consequences for me were fairly minimal. The record company was, of course, incensed when they found out about my unauthorized affair. Unfortunately, Minho liked to brag about the things he cherished, and he made no secret of our relationship outside of the company. I knew it was only a matter of time before the issue was brought to the attention of Mr. Park, the company’s CEO and head producer.

I can still remember sitting in his big office, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke, while Mr. Park shoved my management contract in my face. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, to which I had no response other than my weakness for Minho’s cunning smile. “You’re done here,” he announced and my heart broke in my chest.

Fortunately, before I could finish packing my belongings on the same afternoon, Minho had appeared at my desk with a very unhappy Mr. Park trailing behind him with an intense scowl. “Tell her,” Minho growled.

“Y/N,” he sighed. “You’ve been reinstated. Mr. Lee made a convincing argument on your behalf. Apparently, he can’t possibly work here and renew his contract without you as his manager.”

I remember glaring at Minho for his intervention, since our impromptu marriage was entirely his fault. “Thank you, sir.”

Thereafter, I was determined to do the best job I could as famed singer Lee Know’s manager, even if it meant facing scrutiny from jealous fans or bowing my head when I faced another agent in the hallways. I suppose I could deal with their scrutiny because it was better than the alternative of finding myself lounging away in Minho’s expensive condo unemployed and ruined because of my reputation. Even so, I was walking on thin glass everyday, and Minho continued to make things hard by insisting that he didn’t need to follow the rules, especially since he insisted on some one-sided feud with Mr. Park.

For example, today Minho was scheduled for an interview with a very distinguished magazine, but my husband had decided to prioritize his never ceasing libido over regular responsibilities. “Hold still,” Minho said, smirking against the side of my neck while his hands made quick work of my skirt and panties, shoving them harshly down my legs to make room for his greedy touches. Inhibited access to the heat between my legs, presented to him in just the way he liked, meant that his fingers were currently teasing the swollen folds of my labia while I fell apart at the seams.

I could tell that Minho wanted to take his time, but one glance at my wristwatch told me that we weren’t allowed such liberties today. “No, sir,” I said, reaching behind me to scratch my nails along his forearm. “You have an interview in ten minutes!”

“Relax,” he said, kissing delicately down the individual knobs of my spine. “I missed you today.”

“How romantic,” I deadpanned. “Can you hurry before the agency sends someone to look for us?”

As I said before, Minho was never the type to follow clear instructions, and he didn’t like the fact that his agency was rather strict when it came to scheduling. He liked to spite the men upstairs whenever an opportunity arose, such as prolonging needless foreplay when I was already dripping down my thighs because of his ministrations. I reached behind me for his belt, attempting to undo the zipper and release the erection straining the material.

“What’s your hurry, sweetheart?” he purred, knocking away my hand.

“My job as your manager,” I returned, fervently trying to hasten our unexpected intimacy.

“Well, as your favorite client, I suggest you bend over for me so I can fuck this little pussy.”

His words went straight to the tight coil offering no resistance the longer Minho continued to speak dirty words into my ears. “Did you lock the door?”

“Why? Are you expecting someone?”

I frowned, ready to offer a snarky retort before the words were wiped clean from my head when I felt the tip of his cock sink into my awaiting heat. “What was that, sweetheart?” he asked and I moaned loudly because he was suddenly intense with his movements, leaving no room to gather my bearings before he was fucking at a harsh pace.

Actually, in hindsight, I should’ve seen this coming when I met Minho in my office for the very first time. He walked in wearing a loose-fitting tank top and tight skinny jeans like he was attending a fraternity party instead of a company meeting. Minho’s steps were completely assured, sunglasses framing his face perfectly and standing out against the smooth tone of his skin. “Y/N?” he asked with a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “The agency assigned you to my care.”

“Really?” Minho asked, cocksure and smiling bright as he made himself comfortable on my futon without permission. “Miss, you say?”

“We go by professional titles, Mr. Lee,” I said, glaring at him from behind my computer screen.

“Sure,” he dismissed, reaching for the flower vase on my coffee table. “How does this work exactly? You do whatever I ask, right?”

“Put the vase down and pay attention.”

Minho’s smile vanished at my tone. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Lee, the agency forewarned me about your...behavior. I must assure you that it won’t be tolerated because my job is to make sure that you do everything outlined in your contract. I’m sure you didn’t bother taking the time to read it, but there are certain things the company expects of you other than posting to your Twitter at 3:00 AM in the morning.”

I took a deep breath, satisfied that he appeared to be listening. “For example, the company expects your first album release this October. It’s my job to make sure you attend all recording sessions. Furthermore, promotions will be anticipated leading to the album’s delivery to applicable streaming platforms. That means interviews, photoshoots, award shows, and radio performances. Please understand that I’m one of the very best this agency has to offer, which means my clients demonstrate respect and high aptitude for their work and how it reflects on the company. From the moment you first stepped through that door, I knew that you lacked both of those capabilities.”

I stood up from my desk, walking around to the front to regard the man who suddenly found it difficult to look at me. “Here’s a warning, Mr. Lee. If you fail to adhere to my standards, then I won’t hesitate to ask the company to find you a new manager, understand?”

Minho scoffed, snatching his sunglasses away before nodding his head. “Fine.”

Satisfied, I reached behind me for the manila folder I prepared for his arrival. “Now, let’s review your schedule.”

Of course, that was two years ago and despite the whirlwind of mischievousness that encapsulated Minho, including several scandals, an endless barrage of paparazzi, and several intense arguments with upper management, I wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything else in the world. You see, I never counted on falling in love with an idol singer, but he managed to charm his way into my good graces with an irresistible smile and warm personality masked beneath his arrogant facade of indifference. He always brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of an intense orgasm bent over my desk as his cock hit deep inside.

He fingers wrapped around my wrist, dragging my watch into his line of vision. “Two minutes, Y/N.”

I groaned in complaint, wondering how someone who graduated college with a flawless 4.0 GPA continuously broke company rules on a daily basis.

The following morning, I found myself crushed between several executives for an undisclosed company meeting. “Everyone!” Mr. Park announced. “I have exciting news for this year’s Christmas theme.”

A chorus of groans greeted his words. “Sir, I thought we were leaving the decision for the talent?” another agent spoke up.

“Yes, but I think this will work better for our core demographics,” Mr. Park said. “Y/N!”

I sat up straighter, attempting to look more alert than I felt inside. Unfortunately, Minho had kept me up all night in the small recording studio he built in our shared condo, asking me for continuous feedback on his latest project. “Sir?”

“Mr. Lee gave us a very interesting demo last week for a recent project.”

“Oh?”

“I’d like to make it a collaboration effort with our talent,” Mr. Park said and my heart seized in my chest because I knew firsthand just how much Minho despised working with other people. “3racha have landed their first platinum album. We need to capitalize on their success!”

“You want a collaboration between 3racha and Minho?” I asked, swallowing hard at the idea of telling my husband.

“Exactly,” Mr. Park said with a smile. “For the music video, I was thinking we could also invite Hwang Hyunjin and Lee Felix to choreograph something for the project.”

“How...exciting?” I offered, cringing at my tone. Thankfully, Mr. Park was already addressing 3racha’s manager while I stared at my empty coffee mug and wondering if I would need more caffeine to survive.

Afterwards, Mr. Park adjourned our meeting and I returned to my office to find Minho waiting for me perched on the edge of my desk. “Sweetheart,” he greeted me, pulling me in by my waist to press a welcoming kiss to my pout. “You seem worried?”

I leaned back enough to meet his gaze. “You better promise me that you won’t get upset and scream.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “When have I ever done that?”

A million scenarios filtered through my mind before I decided to leave those memories in the past. “I just finished a company meeting.”

“Oh yeah?” he nodded, playing with the necklace resting against my collarbone. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “Mr. Park had an... interesting suggestion.”

Minho glanced up and narrowed his eyes. “This doesn’t sound good.”

“He wants a collaboration,” I said, deciding to go for the killing blow before I could lose any more of my fading confidence. “The new demo you played for the company. He wants you to work with 3racha.”

Minho was quiet for a moment before he chuckled. “Really? Well, I don’t think so, sweetheart. You know how I feel about those things.”

I released an unsteady exhale. “It might be an opportunity?”

He shook his head. “You just march your cute little ass back into Park’s office and tell him I’m not interested.”

I groaned, pulling out of Minho’s arms to walk around my desk. “I have no power to tell Mr. Park anything.”

“Why not? You’re my manager!”

“Yeah, but he’s the head producer and owner,” I remarked, offering him an unimpressed look as I sat down to unlock my computer. “Besides, I think it’s a cool idea for the fans.”

Minho frowned. “Fuck, if I’m collaborating with anyone, then it’s gonna be Sam Smith or Post Malone.”

“As likely as that sounds,” I started with a dramatic sigh, “I think you should start small and work your way to the top.”

“But 3racha?” Minho grimaced. “Those fucking guys think they’re the absolute shit around here.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Not funny,” Minho grumbled. “It’s my demo. I should be able to choose who I work with.”

“I think you’ve forgotten the fine print in your contract,” I said, reaching across the desk to offer his hand a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t make a big deal out of this. Can’t you make an exception...for me?”

Minho sighed, and I offered my absolute best pout in return.

“You’re lucky that I love you.”

Later that afternoon, I was surprised to meet Mr. Kim in the elevator on my way to the lobby. It was heavily rumored around the office that 3racha’s manager was notorious for locking himself away in the studio with his favorite clients. “Y/N,” he greeted me. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” I said, holding up a folder. “I was bringing some files to Mr. Park.”

“Leave them with his secretary,” Mr. Kim insisted. “I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet my clients since we’ll be working together.”

“Minho is busy with an interview right now.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Mr Kim said. “Maybe it’s better if you talk to them first?”

I considered his offer, noting the disheveled appearance of his suit. “How long have you been trying to find me?”

“Does right now work for you?” he continued, pointedly ignoring my question.

“If you must insist,” I grumbled. “But they’ll have to meet at some point.”

“Yes, but I think we can delay the inevitable,” Mr. Kim said with a pointed look which I knew was directed at my husband.

“Fine.”

My easy agreement was met with a satisfied smirk to which I resisted the urge to remind Mr. Kim that I was only meeting his clients to make things easier for everyone involved in the collaboration. Of course, I had no room to talk down to my superiors and Mr. Kim’s credentials were practically golden compared to the minimal mark I had left on the company and its prolific talent. Instead, I let out a shaky exhale, wondering if it was too late to reconsider the fight I endured on a regular basis to keep my position with the company.

“Here we are,” Mr. Kim grinned. The elevator stopped on the top floor with a resounding alarm. “I think you’ll find my clients to be satisfactory.”

“In comparison to Minho, you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as Mr. Kim urged me to follow him down a narrow hallway. I vaguely recognized our destination, but I usually never lingered around the studios.

“Did I say that?”

“It was implied,” I sighed, crossing my arms.

“Well, that wasn’t my intention, Y/N. You, of course, understand that nothing between us is personal?”

“We’re colleagues, Mr. Kim,” I replied. “That defines our relationship.”

“In that case...” he trailed off, pausing outside one of the doors. “I’m excited to work together.”

I rolled my eyes when he turned his back, but held my tongue as he reached for my hand to drag me inside the room. Immediately, my eyes were drawn to the plethora of monitors and screens dragging the walls of the entertainment studio. It reminded me of my early time as an intern during college, overwhelmed by the inner workings of the record company I was privileged to support, learning everything about the business. There was also a time, however briefly, when I first entered my current company as nothing more than an executive assistant for Mr. Kim who enjoyed reminding me of the fact, especially when his clients continued to eclipse mine in popularity. And that included the three men who offered us polite smiles when we interrupted their session.

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim said, dragging me further into the room. “I thought it might be nice to formally offer introductions. I’d like you to meet Bang Chan, Han Jisung, and Seo Changbin.”

“I’m very excited,” I said, taking on a professional tone as I extended my hand to Chan. “My client is looking forward to your future collaboration.”

Chan accepted my outstretched hand, curling his fingers around mine. “Likewise.”

I withdrew my hand slowly, offering Jisung and Changbin a courteous nod. “Mr. Kim insisted that we meet today.”

“Yes,” Chan nodded. “But your client is noticeably absent.”

I swallowed hard as I met his gaze. “Minho is busy with an interview.”

“I see,” Chan remarked, taking a step back. “Well, 3racha is working until this evening. Perhaps Minho could join us here after his meeting.”

I turned around to look at Mr. Kim who only shrugged in response as if it hadn’t been his idea to keep Minho as far away as possible until necessary. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my expression as I gave Chan an airy laugh. “That only makes sense, doesn’t it? Let me send him a message.”

“In the meantime,” Changbin sighed from behind us. “We can continue with the recording.”

“Keep us updated, Y/N,” Chan said, returning to his work while I started on drafting a message for Minho.

To Minho: Tell me when your interview ends

“Y/N,” Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “I hope Minho’s schedule is cleared for tomorrow?

I raised one eyebrow in question. “Tomorrow?”

“We’d like to start the first recording session,” Chan replied. “Mr. Park played us some of Minho’s demo and we have some ideas for the track.”

“Oh,” I responded, completely out of my element when it came to the actual creation of music despite the many nights I spent with Minho in our home studio. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Kim declared, pulling out his cellphone with a grin. “I’ll make the arrangements on my end.”

Mr. Kim stepped out into the hallway, leaving me alone with his clients who were all watching me with barely concealed curiosity. “You know,” Chan started, “I’ve listened to Minho’s albums. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to write love songs.”

“He likes to experiment,” I said, blushing when I recalled the way he had intimately explained the meaning behind his new demo, but there was no way I was telling anyone that the song was about me.

“Is he...open to criticism?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Why? Is there something wrong with the demo?”

“Of course not!” Jisung immediately corrected. “I just thought I’d ask because we have some cool suggestions to improve the overall quality. But I don’t know if Minho would listen.”

It was highly unlikely. “I’m sure he’s open for improvement,” I lied, wincing when I felt my phone vibrate from inside my pocket.

Minho: Call me.

“One second, gentlemen,” I said, cringing at my tone before escaping into the hallway. I held up my cell phone reluctantly, tapping on Minho’s contact name to place the call. He answered almost immediately. “Minho?”

“Sweetheart,” came his voice from the other end. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah,” I said with a heavy exhale. “I’m with 3racha.”

He was silent on the other end for an uncomfortable duration. “Why?”

“Mr. Kim caught me on the way to Mr. Park’s office,” I said. “He insisted we meet.”

“Really? Are you having fun?”

I inwardly groaned at Minho’s tone, recognizing it as the same one he reserved when he was feeling particularly annoyed. “They want to meet you too.”

I was met with another long silence and then- “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I paced outside the studio entrance, wondering if Minho had suddenly had a change of heart in the brief amount of time he had been notified of the collaboration project. After all, everything would be a lot easier if my husband wasn’t so stubborn, a perfectionist in every sense of the word who had trouble delegating work to other people, especially when he didn’t trust them. But for this to be successful, Minho would need to respect 3racha as capable artists who knew what they were doing when it came to creating hit singles.

“This feels more like an intervention,” Minho suddenly announced, trudging down the hallway and pulling me out of my foreboding thoughts.

“Then don’t give me a reason to be nervous,” I said, accepting his brief kiss before reaching out for the door handle. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

“I’ll try,” Minho grumbled, and that was the only confirmation I received before letting the literal beast into the jungle..

Chan was the first to realize Minho’s arrival, standing up from the couch to greet Minho with a professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Minho glared at Chan’s outstretched hand. “I’m not thrilled about this collaboration.”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to grab Minho’s hand and force him to feign politeness for once in his life. “Oh,” Chan said, retracting his arm. “I just thought we should get along since we’re working together.”

“A temporary arrangement,” Minho said, clicking his tongue as he turned around to look at me. “Y/N can handle the PR stuff.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” I quipped, trying to lighten the air even though Minho had more or less successfully generated enough tension to last a lifetime.

“Mr. Lee, my clients were hoping to schedule a session tomorrow,” Mr. Kim said. “We’d like to start on the collaboration as soon as possible.”

“Sure,” Minho said, jaw clenching to betray that he wasn’t entirely happy. “I’d like to work quickly.”

A long, insufferable silence ensued while Minho took his time studying the three artists he was expected to share his newest creation. Finally, Mr. Kim interrupted the never-ending staring contest, flashing a forced smile. “Bring the demo with you, Mr. Lee, and anything else you’ve been working on.”

Minho nodded. “I’ve already finished most of the song.” I took a deep breath, waiting until Minho turned around to look at me. “I have something to do, so I’ll see you at home.”

I bowed my head, holding my tongue until the sound of the door closing broke whatever spell Minho had cast over our sullen group. “Pleasant isn’t he?” Changbin snorted.

“He’s just busy,” I tried to excuse, but the sentiment fell short and I suddenly had the desire to run down the hall with my arms flailing above my head.

I guess we can consider day one a complete and total failure.

Despite the awkward tension of Minho’s first meeting with 3racha, I was determined that the remainder of the collaboration would endure no further obstacles. Accordingly, I woke up early the next morning with every intention of playing the part of the mediator, which meant doing everything possible to improve Minho’s mood. For example, my husband was notorious for being intimidating at work, but he was nothing short of soft at home and I took advantage of his early-morning clinginess by surprising him with breakfast in bed and open arms without worrying about rushing through our usual routine.

“You want something,” Minho said, one arm pulling me close to his chest while his other hand made busy work of his breakfast.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“In general? Maybe it’s the fact that we’re already twenty minutes behind schedule and you aren’t losing your shit.”

I opened one eye, watching him as he swallowed down the remainder of his orange juice. “I’m comfortable.”

“Really?” Minho snickered, looking down with a knowing glance. “Sweetheart, you’re usually pushing me out the door right about now.”

“Well, things have been hectic at the company, so I thought it might be nice to treat ourselves.”

“I assume you’re talking about my required collaboration with the three idiots,” Minho said.

“I’m concerned,” I continued. “Minho, you hate working with the other artists, but this isn’t something we can just walk away from.”

“I understand,” Minho sighed. “I don’t want you to worry about me or the collaboration. I promise to be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone. “That’s a great way to instill confidence.”

“They’re irritating,” Minho continued. “My inbox is full of messages and I hate email.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Are you sure Mr. Park wanted this?”

“Minho,” I said, slowly pulling myself out of his arms. “Stop thinking about the project like it’s some sort of punishment. Consider it an opportunity instead.”

“Please feel free to elaborate.”

“3racha are incredibly famous and they have a considerable fanbase,” I said. “When those fans hear your voice on the record, they might start paying more attention to your music.”

Minho exhaled, chest falling beneath my hands. “I see your point, but I don’t like it.”

“Nobody said you had to like it,” I reminded him. “Be nice to them.”

“What are you asking me to do?” my husband groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

I quickly straddled his waist, working my fingers into the tense muscles of his shoulders. “I know you don’t like the collaboration, but it won’t last forever and then you can go back to working on your solo projects.”

“I guess, but only if you come to all the recording sessions.”

I grinned triumphantly, even if it was only one victory in a long history of tedious arguments with my stubborn husband.

Mr. Kim was a very impatient man, and I was only somewhat surprised to see him standing by the main entrance when we finally arrived at the company. “Minho, you needed to be in the recording studio...” he trailed off, glancing at his wristwatch with a frown. “Ten minutes ago.”

My husband scoffed. “I don’t work on your time, Mr. Kim.”

“We had a late start,” I intervened. “I’ll make sure he gets there soon, Mr. Kim.”

The older man grunted, clearly displeased with Minho’s behavior. Thankfully, Minho had the decency to wait until he was well out of hearing range before further disparaging Mr. Kim’s character. “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for you,” Minho said, glaring over my shoulder at Mr. Kim’s retreating form. “But I don’t appreciate being told what to do.”

“That’s how he is,” I said. “I used to work for him as an assistant. He was always keeping everyone busy. Time wasted is money lost.”

Minho snickered at my poor imitation of Mr. Kim’s accent. “I’d kick his skinny ass if I was any less patient.”

I resisted the urge to laugh at Minho’s “restraint” because my husband was notorious for acting without consideration for the consequences. “Don’t be late for your first recording session.”

Minho pouted, looking down at me with wide, brown eyes. “You aren’t coming?”

“I’ll be there soon,” I promised him with a quick kiss. “I have something to do first.”

Minho was hesitant to leave me behind, but I offered him another encouraging kiss before retreating in the opposite direction to my office. It seemed that I would need reinforcements for this particular occasion, and I knew there were only two men who I could force to help me. As such, I found Jeongin and Seungmin loitering around their desks, passing back and forth what appeared to be a paper airplane. “I wasn’t aware I made any prior aviation requests.”

Jeongin let out a small whine, quickly disposing of the distraction in the bin next to his desk. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Look, I’m actually in a hurry today and there’s too much going on for me to handle your hijinks,” I said, beckoning the interns to follow me into my office. “I have an important assignment for you.”

“Of course!” Seungmin agreed, walking ahead to grab the door. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee.”

“It’s about Minho.”

“Lee Minho?”

I turned around to glare at Jeongin. “Who else? Or did I receive notice of another client with the same name?”

Jeongin shook his head furiously. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lee. It’s just...”

“Minho has a history with interns,” Seungmin finished. “And maybe people in general.”

I laughed at their suggestions. “You’ll be with me the entire time, alright?”

They both visibly relaxed. “So we don’t have to help him?”

“Not directly,” I affirmed, moving around my desk. “Sit down, boys.” They both complied quickly, looking up at me with wide and innocent eyes that reminded me of my days in university. “Minho and 3racha have a recording session scheduled for this afternoon.”

Jeongin squealed from his chair. “The 3racha! I love their music! Oh, do you think it’d be too much to ask for an autograph?”

Upon seeing my glare, Jeongin quickly apologized. “Would it be too much to resist that urge, Mr. Yang?”

The younger boy sighed. “Sorry, Mrs. Lee.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring their antics. “I have your assignments.”

Seungmin leaned forward expectantly. “Whatever you need, Mrs. Lee!”

“Your job,” I said, glancing back and forth between Jeongin and Seungmin, “is to make sure that Minho doesn’t piss off 3racha.”

“How?” Jeongin asked with sad eyes that almost forced me to change my mind on the spot.

“Just make sure you’re at their recording sessions with me,” I said. “Intervene whenever it seems like they might argue.”

“Intervene?”

I sighed impatiently. “I don’t know, improvise or something, but nothing bad needs to happen or Mr. Park will chew my ass out for disrupting a perfectly good collaboration opportunity.”

Seungmin and Jeongin looked at each other before sighing in defeat. “Does this mean we’ll be getting a raise?”

Here’s the thing about my job: despite Minho’s insistence, he was not the only client I represented. For example, I was also currently working on the debut of a new boy group who were incredibly talented and highly charismatic. They were also obedient and respectful, doing whatever they could to make my job easier even though I never asked them to sacrifice their free-time to practice their dancing and singing. When I worked with their leader, I couldn’t help but think that my job was considerably easier in comparison to the extra effort sometimes required to fix Minho’s mistakes, like the time he showed up an hour late for an interview because I forgot to set the alarm in our bedroom. Nonetheless, it always seemed like I was doing something extra to remedy Minho’s abrasive nature, which explains why I was prepared to sacrifice two of the company’s interns for the betterment of the future.

“Are you ready?” I asked the younger boys, lingering by the doorway to the studio.

Seungmin managed a nod while Jeongin murmured something that I decided to interpret as his approval. I knocked on the door expectantly, slightly relieved when Minho greeted me on the other side. “There you are,” he said. “We couldn’t possibly start without you.”

I rolled my eyes, but followed him inside with my interns hot on my heels. Minho retired to the couch, hunched over his laptop as he worked with a frown. Meanwhile, Chan, Jisung, and Changbin were busy adjusting the sound equipment while Mr. Kim watched his clients with eager eyes.

“Stay here,” I said to my nervous interns before joining Minho on the couch. “Do you actually plan to help them?”

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” Minho said. “I’m not actually procrastinating...just putting the finishing touches on the initial demo.”

He lifted one of the earbuds, offering it to me with a grin. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

Minho scoffed. “Will you please listen to my finished demo?”

I snatched the earbud from him in response, plugging my right ear and blocking out the lingering noise from the studio. The soft cadence of the piano started to play from the computer, shortly followed by Minho’s familiar breathy vocals that never ceased to amaze me. My husband was gifted with a profoundly gorgeous voice that could reach high notes that even I would struggle to obtain.

“My voice sounds angelic, wouldn’t you agree?” Minho asked.

“I see your ego has somehow managed to grow overnight.”

Minho chuckled, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. “Don’t worry, I don't intend to sabotage the collaboration...I worked too hard on this demo.”

“I guess we can start then,” I said, stretching my arms high above my head as I waited for Minho to eject his flash drive. From the corner of my eye, I spotted Jisung approaching the two of us with a hesitant smile. “Good morning, Jisung,” I said, nudging Minho when he continued to remain silent.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said, holding up the flashdrive. “I prepared most of the song.”

“Really?” Jisung questioned, accepting the device from Minho. “I’d like to listen.”

Jisung returned to the sound booth and Chan accepted the flash drive with a brief glance over his shoulder at Minho. My husband remained silent while Chan opened the corresponding file on the computer and everyone listened with admirable concentration while Minho’s sweet music and tender voice filled the empty studio space.

“It’s good,” Changbin acknowledged at the end, even though his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Good enough on its own,” Minho muttered and I shot him a warning look. “Fine,” he begrudged. “I have some ideas on the arrangements.”

“Sure,” Chan nodded, leaning back against the sound booth.

“We can split up the parts,” Minho continued. “I’ll handle the chorus.”

“I see,” Chan acknowledged. “I guess that means you want us to take the verses?”

“Logical, isn’t it?” Minho snarked. “I suppose you can add a rap verse or two since that’s your...thing.”

“I could try and sing as well,” Jisung offered. “We could harmonize over the final chorus.”

“You sing?” Minho snorted. “I thought you were a rap group.”

“Does that automatically disqualify us from being singers?” Changbin asked gruffly.

“Of course not!” I interfered, inserting myself effectively between Minho and Changbin. “I’ve heard some of your vocal work and it’s absolutely beautiful.”

Minho grumbled something indecipherable under his breath from behind me, but I ignored him and continued to do my absolute best to ensure the recording session progressed as smoothly as possible. “I hope you don’t mind, but my interns will also be joining us today for their field work.”

“That’s fine with me,” Chan spoke up from his position behind the sound station. “Should we start with finalizing arrangements?”

I ushered Minho forward whose expression revealed his reluctance. However, since he was on his best behavior, Minho started conversing with Chan and the others about arranging the vocals and rap verses for the song. In return, I sat down on the couch with my interns since I wasn’t skilled enough to comprehend their impressive knowledge of song production. I knew Mr. Kim was also quite unfamiliar with their vernacular, but the proud man continued to linger around the artists as if he could possibly offer something beneficial to the professionals.

I scoffed at the idea, turning to look at Seungmin who was busy playing some sort of application on his phone. “Is this your way of doing a good job?”

He jumped at the sound of my voice, closing out of his game before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’m paying attention!”

From my other side, Jeongin sighed happily. “Han has the best voice.”

I tried not to laugh at Jeongin’s starstruck expression, especially since Han Jisung was a very impressive vocalist, singing Minho’s lyrics like they had come from his own imagination. “He’s quite talented,” I agreed, studying my husband to try and determine if he also shared the same opinion.

But Minho was difficult to read when he was focused on his music. He never spoke during Han’s performance, waiting until the younger boy was finished before addressing him expectantly from the recording booth. Minho sighed, pressing the button to allow him to speak directly to Jisung. “It was alright for a rapper.”

I resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall as Jisung glowered at Minho. “I’m not just a rapper.”

“The tone isn’t right,” Minho carried on as if Jisung hadn’t spoken, “we need tighter vocals.”

“My vocals are fine!” Jisung bristled and I shoved at Jeongin’s arm who immediately jumped into action. The younger intern stood up abruptly, the unexpected action commanding the attention of the entire studio...

“Who wants coffee!”

I sighed at his dramatics, but it was a decent distraction. “Why not?” Chan asked, reclining back in his chair. “It seems like we have a lot of work to do.”

Sadly, truer words had never been spoken.

Graciously, Minho managed to keep his more radical opinions to himself for the remainder of our scheduled recording sessions with 3racha. Of course, my husband always had his ways of insinuating an insult through carefully chosen words. Nonetheless, I think all parties involved knew it would be to everyone’s benefit if we finished recording the new song without arguing about Minho’s dismissive comments.

In any case, Mr. Park was thrilled with the final result, inviting me and Mr. Kim to his office after listening to the finished product. “This is exactly what I envisioned,” he said with a bright smile. “The fans will love this!”

“It was a process, sir,” I admitted, sheepishly offering Mr. Kim what I hoped was a sincere apology.

“I’ve scheduled a shooting day for the music video,” Mr. Park said. “I have the perfect concept for the song!”

“I’m sure it’s brilliant, sir,” Mr. Kim added.

“Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin have agreed to choreograph the track,” Mr. Park said. “They have some very interesting ideas for your clients.”

It was only then when I remembered that Minho liked to arrange his own dances, but since we were already this far into the collaboration, he might reluctantly agree once more. “We’ll be there,” I reassured my boss.

Unfortunately, I knew it would be a horrible shooting day when I walked outside with Minho and saw a gray sky and light misting of rain. “This is already a mess,” I said, dragging my still sleepy husband to the car.

“How long will this take?” Minho grumbled.

“If you’re willing to cooperate,” I said, fixing him with a stern glance, “then I’d imagine we can finish by this evening.”

Minho yawned. “I hate music video shoots.”

“You poor thing,” I sighed. “Whenever you finally decide to become a director, then I’m certain you’ll insist on controlling that aspect of music production as well.”

“I feel like you understand my vision, Y/N,” Minho said with an airy laugh. “I’m too tired to argue today.”

I exhaled a sigh of relief, hoping that he was being honest. “Mr. Park invited the company’s best choreographers. Please don’t insist on doing your own performance.”

“As long as they won’t have me doing anything less than artistic,” Minho said. “We should be fine.”

I chose not to take my husband’s words to heart as we drove to the shooting sight together in silence. It had started to steadily rain the longer we drove, and I had a feeling that the sky itself was foreshadowing the impending breakdown threatening to destroy all the progress we made. But I was also an optimist, and Minho was usually the least abrasive when it came to shooting music videos.

I parked my car next to the company’s van, watching a few regular staff members unload equipment from the back. “Y/N, it’s not too late for us to drive to that adorable little breakfast restaurant we like so much,” Minho reminded me.

“Shoot the video and I’ll treat you to a gourmet dinner,” I said, reaching across the console to squeeze my husband’s hand.

He was still reluctant, but I was proud when he reached into the backseat for our umbrella. We stood close together, Minho’s hand firm around my waist. In the distance, I easily found Mr. Kim talking with his clients as they fought to stay dry under one of the company’s tents.

Mr. Kim saw me first, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Y/N, you’ve decided to keep us waiting again.”

“Blame it on the weather,” I said, closing the umbrella as Minho wandered over to talk with one of the directors.

“Oh! You mean the rain pushing us into a delay? I guess I didn’t notice,” Mr. Kim returned, rolling his eyes as he led me further into the crowd of people. I faintly recognized the younger men dressed in gorgeous outfits, recalling their appearance in various music videos from some of the company’s most distinguished artists. “Y/N,” Mr. Kim smiled. “I’d like you to meet Lee Felix and Hwang Hyunjin. They have some excellent suggestions for the music video.”

“The honor is mine,” I said, bowing respectfully to Felix and Hyunjin. “Minho is eager to work with you.”

Felix smirked. “You don’t have to lie to us, Mrs. Lee. We know your husband prefers to work alone.”

“Ah,” I murmured. “His reputation precedes him.”

“I hope he can appreciate our efforts,” Hyunjin added. “Felix and I have been working on some new choreography for the track.”

“He’s being compliant today,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“There isn’t much of a choice,” Mr. Kim said, startling when the director attempted to speak over the white-noise of the tent’s occupants.

“Attention! We’re starting inside the school for the first scene.”

I met Minho’s eyes over the crowd of moving staff, nodding for him to obey the director’s command. “What’s the concept, Mr. Kim?”

“Friends-to-lovers?” Mr. Kim shrugged. “Your pretty husband is the main character, which I’m sure will please him greatly.”

“It’s a high school setting?”

“Yes, and he has a crush on a school girl,” Mr. Kim said. “You should know this very well, Mrs. Lee, didn’t he seduce you in the same way?”

I ignored his jab. “And 3racha?”

“Protective friends, I guess,” Mr. Kim said. “The director assured me that it wouldn’t take long to film.”

“I hope not,” I said. “The less Minho has to be here, the better.”

“Cut!” the director growled. “Mr. Lee, this is not the same choreography that we discussed with Felix and Hyunjin.”

“I tried to improvise,” my husband defended himself.

There were less than two scenes left to film and I was very close to dragging Minho away from the film shooting and knocking some sense into him. “Follow the script we discussed,” the director said. “Let’s take five.”

Chan glared at Minho as he snatched a bottle of water from the snack table. “Is it too much to ask you to cooperate, Minho?”

My husband ignored Chan, pausing in front of me to bring his forehead against mine. “I’m tired.”

I shot Chan an apologetic smile as I smoothed my hands through Minho’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back to look at Chan who was engrossed in conversation with Jisung and Changbin. “He’s impossible to work with.”

“What’s wrong now?” I sighed, feeling another impending headache courtesy of Minho’s behavior.

“I hate Bang Chan,” Minho said. “He keeps looking at your ass.”

“Who cares?” I nearly shouted, attracting the attention of a few camera workers. “Minho, the shooting is almost over. Please, for the sake of my mental sanity, can you try to listen to the director?”

Minho’s eyes betrayed his exhaustion. “I want greasy food for dinner and a cheesy movie when I get home.”

I laughed, amused by Minho’s behavior. “Whatever you want.”

“Minho!” the director yelled. “We need you back on set.”

Minho closed his eyes and sighed. “He’s lucky I’m a professional.”

I was lingering by the snack table, picking my way through the bowl of skittles because I only liked the red kind, when I heard the unexpected sound of yelling from somewhere inside the school. My husband’s voice was easy to detect about the noise, and I stuffed a handful of candies into my mouth before deciding to investigate. As much as I’d like to imagine that the yelling was a part of the music video, common sense told me that my husband had likely gotten into another confrontation with the director.

However, the last thing I expected to see was Minho marching through the open doors of the school with Chan following him with clear annoyance. “I’m telling you it’s not good enough,” Chan said, frowning when Minho stopped by my side.

“I don’t want to film it again,” Minho said. “Besides, your reaction was genuine. The best ‘acting’ you’ve done all day.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Minho said, glaring at Chan as he reached for my hand. “The collaboration required a song and we have a finished copy and a music video. I’ve done my part, so if you’ll kindly excuse my wife and I...”

Chan shook his head. “Do whatever you want, Minho. I don’t care anymore.... But the sad part in all of this is how much I was sincerely excited to work with you, despite your reputation.”

Minho seemed at a loss for words, glancing back and forth between me and Chan. “I can’t share your sentiment, Chan,” he finally said. “I think it’s best if we make this a one time thing.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Chan agreed with a disappointed sigh.

I could only helplessly stand aside as the two bickered, wondering if it was too late to formally retire.

Sunday was the only day of the week where I could actually enjoy myself without having to worry about the company or the never-ending demands of my clients, with the exception of my husband. “Y/N,” Minho slurred from next to me in our bed.

I made a vague noise of recognition, pulling the blankets closer to my chin because it was too cold in the apartment. “What?”

“Your phone is vibrating,” Minho said, and I managed to crane my head back just enough to realize that he was right.

I reached out my hand to feel for the stupid thing on the nightstand, pulling it close enough to read the message displayed across the screen:

From Mr. Kim: Mr. Park planned some sort of elaborate interview/performance for the new collaboration. Make sure Minho is at the company tomorrow by noon.

“Who is it?” Minho asked, using one arm to drag me closer to his welcoming heat.

“Mr. Kim,” I murmured in return.

“Why?” Minho growled.

“Apparently, you have an interview with 3racha tomorrow. Mr. Park wants a live performance for the debut of the collaboration.”

“I thought I was done with them,” Minho said with a tone that suggested he was anything but pleased with the news.

“It’s just one performance,” I argued. “And you promised me that you would finish all your responsibilities.”

“You keep adding more things,” Minho gruffed.

I smirked, rolling onto my side to face my husband. “I think it’s a great idea to let the fans hear it live on the same day it starts streaming.”

“Can’t they just play the recording of my parts?”

“It won’t be the same,” I said, leaning in closer to brush my lips across the seam of his pout. “I’ll be the loudest fan screaming your name from the back.”

He chuckled, allowing one hand to pull me in closer. “Aren’t you always my biggest fan?”

“Lee Know, will you sign my albums?”

“You’re a good negotiator, sweetheart,” he said, diving in for a passionate kiss that reminded me of when we first started dating and Minho was always eager to shower me with affection.

“Minho,” I gasped, barely restraining a moan when he suddenly moved between my thighs.

“I’m sorry I’ve made things difficult,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to the skin around my calves. Tender moments like this reminded me of the person I fell in love with, slowly learning that there was more to Minho than his arrogant stage persona.

“Please,” I whispered, helping him remove my sweatpants before weaving my fingers through his hair.

“Anything for you,” Minho said, breath hot against my sensitive skin. He stuck out his tongue, tasting the heat between my legs with languid strokes that promised the best wake-up call to start the day. Not that Minho and I did anything substantial on Sundays since we preferred to watch movies and indulge in the glorious high of junk food.

More often than not, we always ended up in this position with my husband doing his best to please me. And I had no room to complain because Minho was awfully talented with his tongue, and he had me writhing against the mattress like a complete mess. “You’re too good at this,” I complained halfheartedly.

His nails dug into my hips, holding me in place while he continued to drive me over the edge. “Are you going to cum for me?”

I always broke at his husky tone, lying spent in my post-orgasmic haze as Minho feathered light kisses across my legs. In moments like this, it was impossible to think about the negative aspects of working for the company, or the drama of the collaboration. Besides, it was only one more day and Minho never broke his promises.

I found a strange, but calming quality to pacing back and forth when I came across a problem that was incredibly difficult to solve. For example, arriving at the office early to prepare last minute forms while fully expecting my husband to show up to his scheduled interview and performance without my intervention. Yet, despite my expectations, I was currently backstage with Mr. Kim and his clients while we listened to a crowd of eager fans waiting to hear the new collaboration. Unfortunately, my husband was nowhere to be seen, and that meant our schedule was in jeopardy.

“Where’s Minho?” Mr. Kim nearly screeched, raking his hands through his balding hair while remaining heavily engrossed in his phone screen.

The performance was supposed to start ten minutes ago and the fans were clearly confused. A distinct murmuring of intermingled voices echoing throughout the soundless concert hall. “Y/N?”

I turned around, using every last ounce of strength I could muster to meet Chan’s gaze. “I don’t know where he is.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, and the anger in his eyes was enough to nearly give me a premature heart attack.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, desperately ringing Minho’s number once again only to be met by the familiar greeting of his voicemail inbox.

“I knew that bastard would ruin this,” Changbin said. “He was determined from the start to see this fail.”

“It was one performance,” Jisung bemoaned, and I could only feel absolutely miserable listening to their shared complaints. But, in the words of my formidable boss, the show must go on and I couldn’t bear to disappoint the eager fans waiting to hear the song they loved.

Speaking of which, I reached out a hand to support myself against the wall when I saw Mr. Park walk backstage with his assistants. Our eyes met from across the room. “Mr. Park,” I managed, but my throat was suddenly dry despite the three empty bottles of water I had consumed.

“Y/N,” Mr. Park sighed, eliminating the distance between us. “Tell them to have 3racha perform without Minho. Our phone conversation today has certainly changed my mind about the viability of his collaboration.”

“You talked to him?” I growled, feeling nothing short of betrayed since my husband had repeatedly ignored my phone calls.

“We’ve reached an impasse,” Mr. Park explained solemnly. “Please tell Mr. Kim about the change.”

“But sir!” I tried to protest because I was extremely confused and had no idea what we needed to tell the fans.

However, Mr. Park was already focused on a new task and instead of delaying the inevitable, I found Mr. Kim talking urgently to a stage hand next to the curtain. “Introduce 3racha,” I said. “Tell them that Minho had an unexpected emergency.”

Mr. Kim, if it was even possible, grew even redder to the point where I hesitated to call for help backstage. “This is an outrage!” he finally growled, crowding me against the wall. “If this goes wrong, then I hope you know that it’s entirely your husband’s fault and his mistakes reflect poorly on your performance.

I bowed my head, because I knew that part of the blame rested on my shoulders as Minho’s manager, especially in regard to the mysterious phone call he shared with Mr. Park. In the meantime, I could hear the crowd cheer for the arrival of 3racha who performed to the best of their ability without my husband. Still, it broke my heart to know that he had somehow been excused from the performance after promising to complete the remainder of his responsibilities.

But I still wanted to give Minho the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps something happened when I left for the company and he was forced to call Mr. Park? Still, my optimism didn’t stop my hands from shaking from my grip around the steering wheel, pulling into my usual parking spot with a heavy sigh. Before our marriage, there were plenty of times when Minho tested my patience. For example, on multiple occasions I had come very close to handing in my request to have him transferred to someone else because he was sometimes impossible to handle. However, each time I would threaten to leave, Minho always convinced me to stay, turning his entire attitude around and doing his best to make up for his mistakes. He was usually successful, but today’s mishap forced me to question whether or not he was capable of recovering from this unexpected slight. And it wouldn’t just jeopardize my relationship with him as his manager, but also the close intimacy I shared with him as his wife.

I paused at the door to our apartment, trying to listen for any sound of movement from inside. “He’ll have a good excuse,” I attempted to justify, unlocking the door before dragging my feet into the entryway. “Minho?” I called out, greeting nothing but silence before I walked downstairs to his studio where Minho often liked to escape when he wanted to be alone.

I was surprised to see him inside, working on his computer as if today was just another ordinary session. “Minho,” I snapped, opening the door without bothering to knock. “We need to talk.”

Minho sighed, glancing away from his computer screen. “I know Mr. Park cancelled my performance.”

“Yeah? And you don’t think that there’s something wrong!”

“Y/N, don’t worry about the interview,” he replied. “Park called me earlier and told me he would take care of everything.”

I slowly exhaled. “I know he called you, but I don’t understand why it happened.”

“He said it wouldn’t be the last time I was involved with marketing,” Minho continued. “I told him I was under the impression that today would be the last performance. We argued for a while and he told me that I shouldn’t bother showing up today if I wasn’t committed to the project.”

I blinked twice, trying to process his words. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, barely restraining the anger. “I called you several times before Mr. Park showed up backstage.”

“I knew you’d be disappointed,” Minho said with a vulnerable tone I could hardly tolerate. “It’s not a big deal. Park knows about everything, and tomorrow we can forget about the collaboration.”

He looked at me like he was expecting me to just agree with him, but I was beyond words. Instead, I turned my back to him and retreated upstairs to our bedroom. I had fought with my husband before, but this was an entirely new level of anger and frustration.

I could hear Minho following me, but I refused to acknowledge his attempts to gain my attention. “You’re an asshole sometimes,” I growled, storming around the bedroom to find a spare set of sheets in the closet. “Let me know when you’re done being the world’s biggest jerk.”

“What are you doing?” Minho asked, blocking my path to the doorway. “We’re not done talking about this if you’re upset.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m done and you don’t always get your way,” I snapped, pushing past my husband into the living room.

“Y/N,” Minho said, reaching for my arm despite my attempts to ignore him. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” I said, spinning around on my heel to confront him. “If you were sorry, then you’d try to make things right, but your ego has grown to such a monumental size that you can’t even accept the added weight of another mistake.”

“What are you saying?”

“You can’t make this right,” I said, tears obscuring the vision of my husband. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, expression transforming completely when he realized I was truly on the verge of a breakdown. “You know I’m not mad at you! Park knows everything, he was the one who told me not to show up!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cried. “I asked you to do something that’s surprisingly simple for most people. Not because I wanted to punish you, but because I saw an opportunity to help Lee Know! But after the stunt you pulled today, I don’t think I’d bother helping you anymore.”

The single tear that fell from Minho’s eye would have normally been enough for me to recognize his guilt, but I wasn’t in the mood to fall back into the tedious cycle of forgiving him only to deal with another mishap in the future. “Y/N,” he said softly. “Please don’t leave me.”

I shook my head. “I need some time to think about things.”

“What do you mean?” he asked with a desperate tone. “We should talk about this, I can make it better!”

“Just let me sleep,” I begged him and he broke even more, releasing my hand with an uncharacteristic whine.

I tossed my blanket onto the couch, attempting to find a comfortable position on the leather. It was a far cry from the mattress in our bedroom, but I desperately needed space away from Minho. For now, I didn’t want to deal with the reality of our situation, which is why I was more than willing to drown myself in the familiar darkness of sleep.

The smell of bacon was surprisingly overwhelming when I woke up the next morning with lower back pain. I groaned, attempting to sit up despite the near constant throbbing. Apparently, leather sofas were built for style instead of comfort.

I opened my eyes slowly, feeling my heart jump inside my chest when I saw Minho holding a plate in my direction. “Y/N, are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, remembering my argument with Minho from the previous evening. “I’m fine.”

“You should eat,” he insisted so I accepted the plate from him, shaking my head when I realized the toast was burnt, but Minho had never been a great cook. “I want to talk about last night,” Minho said. “Because you’re obviously hurt and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

“What did you expect?” I asked. “You weren’t there for the performance, you ignored my calls, and then my boss tells me that one of his artists decided he was done promoting his new single?”

Minho winced at my tone. “It’s all my fault because I decided to take everything personally. He forced me to do the collaboration when I didn’t want to participate, and it felt like he was taunting me...like I had no control over my music and he could do whatever he wanted.”

“He can, Minho,” I said. “You signed a contract with the company.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I keep forgetting that part, and it’s really stupid how much I let it affect me, but I hate it when things are out of my control.”

“But that’s no reason to take it on the people who were only trying to do their job,” I snapped. “Or refuse to tell your own wife!”

“I understand,” Minho nodded. “I was too caught up in my problems to realize that everyone was suffering because of my decisions.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I asked, holding my breath because I was dreading his answer.

“I’ll apologize to them,” Minho said, hanging his head in shame. “I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything.”

My heart broke at the sorrowful expression he wore, completely uncharacteristic of my husband...as was his decision to apologize since I halfway expected Minho to threaten his leave from the company. However, I also sometimes forgot that Minho was more than the way he acted around other people, and his sincerity was perfectly evident for me to recognize. “I know you are, but sometimes you do things without thinking about the consequences.”

“I’m aware,” he chuckled. “And I usually don’t really care, but that’s selfish...especially when it hurts you.”

“It is selfish,” I agreed. “How do I know you won’t do this again in the future?”

“Because I’ll remind myself of this moment,” he said. “I’ll remember what happened last night and do whatever I can to prevent it from happening again.”

I was stunned by his determination. “Are you really going to apologize to everyone?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Of course, your forgiveness matters the most.”

I took a deep breath, processing his words and the steady way he continued to hold my gaze. “You know I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I need you more than anything else in the world.”

My heart warmed at his declaration. “I wonder what everyone at the company would think if they saw how cheesy you are.”

“Are you going to tell on me?”

“Not as long as you behave,” I returned, laughing at the way he held me tighter, feeling nothing short of safe and secure in his familiar embrace.

Mr. Kim was surprisingly calm when I requested a meeting between our clients. In fact, I was shocked that he even accommodated my request considering our bad relations. However, I recognized an opening, walking down the hallway next to Minho who was clearly nervous as he hugged the bottle of champagne we brought as an apology gift.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Mr. Kim greeted us upon our arrival, sparing Minho a grimace before inviting us inside the studio.

Chan and Jisung were sitting together on the couch, glancing up only when Minho paused in front of them. Meanwhile, Changbin stood against the wall, watching my husband with narrowed eyes. Minho held tightly to the bottle of champagne in his hands, glancing between the three men who all wore similar expressions of disdain. “I’m sorry for the interview,” he said. “It was really selfish and immature.”

Chan arched one eyebrow, glancing between me and Minho. “Really?”

I quietly offered Minho a small push against his lower back, encouraging him to continue. “I rehearsed this,” Minho chuckled, “but it’s hard to swallow my pride.”

“Take your time,” I whispered to him softly.

“Well, let me start by saying that I was wrong about the whole collaboration thing,” he said. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and you guys did everything to help us succeed.”

Changbin scoffed. “You certainly made it more difficult.”

Jisung nodded furiously in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this much trouble with promotion.”

“I know,” Minho agreed. “I was just upset because I have this stupid thing with Park and he knows that I have...problems working with other people.”

“That’s an understatement,” Changbin said, glowering at my husband with obvious disapproval.

“Honestly,” Minho said, swallowing hard. “The song is one of my favorites. I wouldn’t mind collaborating again in the future.”

“Well-” Jising broke off, staring at Mino with something akin to shock. “Huh?”

Chan frowned. “You really made us look bad on stage.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Minho sighed. “I was being an enormous jerk, trying to stick it to the man or something ridiculous and it played out better in my head.”

I reached out a comforting hand, squeezing Minho’s shoulder for support. “I think he knows his decision was wrong.”

Minho nodded. “You might be upset with me and I understand. I’m sorry for everything that happened, and if you decide I don’t deserve to be taken seriously, then I won’t blame you.”

Minho ended his speech with a nervous cough, thrusting out the bottle of champagne in Jisung’s direction who accepted the bottle hesitantly. “Minho,” Chan said, closing his laptop with a sigh. “I know about your history when it comes to working with other artists.”

“It’s not exactly a glowing resume,” Minho admitted.

“No, but that’s the only reason why I know that your apology was sincere,” Chan said. “If you’re really serious, then I think we can move past this.”

Changbin nodded his agreement. “Mr. Park also explained some of the...politics behind the interview fiasco.”

“I guess it’s hard for you,” Chan shrugged. “I’m glad you came here to make things right.”

“And the champagne is nice,” Jisung added quickly to which Minho managed a smile.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“Well, if you were serious about collaborating again, we can start with line distributions,” Changbin said, leaning in with a smirk. “I want to sing next time.”

Minho laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“In that case, we have cause for celebration,” Jisung cheered. “Mr. Kim, do we have spare glasses?”

In the meantime, I took a step back to allow the four men space to talk together, distributing several glasses of champagne before laughing at Jisung’s failed attempt not to spill anything on the carpet. It was certainly admirable, and I found myself simply watching Minho from across the room. This was nothing short of substantial progress, and I cherished the moment because it promised very good things for the future.

And at one point, Minho snuck away from his new collaborators to join me at the sound booth. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’m glad you’ve always been at my side.”

I reached out for his hand, watching Chan, Changbin, and Jisung hold up their champagne glasses in our direction. “You know? I’m really excited about your next project.”

Minho grinned, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I could get used to this...as long as you’ll be there.”

I sighed happily, closing my eyes to remember this moment. “That will never change.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids requests #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #skz oneshot #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee minho #lee know fanfic #lee know smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids minho #stray kids minho fanfic

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miraculouslycool · 3 years

Text

kill ‘em with kindness

Merry Christmas Affiebear! (Sorry I couldn’t tag you on Tumblr)

I’m your secret santa for the APS Secret Santa Event of 2020! Word on the street is that you are Marichat trash so take this fluff dump - I hope you enjoy it! Happy Holidays!

Summary: When Marinette turns to Chat Noir for his opinion about a present for Adrien Agreste, he is at a loss for words.

Was it because he never got presents? Was it because how perfect and flawless her present was? Was it because of her kindness? Was it because when he thought no one cared for him, she was right there all along? Was it because he did not know what he had done to deserve her?

Was it because of Marinette?

He had no clue.

Read in AO3:

"Pound it!" Ladybug bumped fists with her partner.

"Well this was a terribly close call." Chat Noir stretched obnoxiously. "But there's nothing we can't handle, can we, m'lady?"

"Well you're right there. Except for all your taunting." Ladybug rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on, Hawkmoth akumatises XY because he gets cancelled online for throwing a tantrum?" Chat Noir exclaimed.

"You gotta admit it's a little funny, even if he was a pain in the neck."

"Your musical puns were way off-key."

"Well he did get akumatised because he got caught for plagiarism - heeeeeeyyyyy you made a pun!"

Ladybug stiffened. Oh no. He was not going to shut up about it. Seriously, was he rubbing off on her?

"What's wrong, m'lady?" He leaned in. "Would being in sync with me be such a bad thing?"

'Well if he was, maybe it wasn't a bad thing.' She thought fondly, pushing him away by the tip of his nose.

"Getting to be as loud and obnoxious as you for the rest of my life? Very tempting, mon chaton."

"You know it!" He did a small salute, grinning at her so widely it must be hurting his cheeks.

She knew better than anyone that Chat Noir was basically an adrenaline junkie, but why did it seem like he was happier than usual today?

He particularly enjoyed the fight today, taking extra pleasure in dodging hits and deflecting those that came her way.

At one point she almost heard him groan when she set the purified akuma free, but that must have been her imagination.

Not that she would know if it was, but was it a special occasion that she had forgotten about?

"Besides, it's too early for this." The 15 year old superhero shrugged, shaking those confused thoughts away.

Her earrings beeped. "I really need to s-cat." She intonated deliberately. "See you?"

"You need to leave?" He asked abruptly.

"Yeah, I'm kind of almost late for something." She said absent-mindedly. "See you tomorrow for patrol?"

He didn't answer for a while, and that made her look up.

He could not have looked more different from the happy-go-lucky kitten from just a few seconds ago.

The ever-present smile on his face had sagged a little, but it was determined to stay.

"Yeah, see you!" He waved stiffly.

"Chat, is everything okay?" She asked worriedly, touching his shoulder.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" He asked, way too innocently. She watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he gulped.

Tearing her eyes away from the long column of his throat, (seriously why was she even looking there?) she faced his eyes again. His very green eyes that thinly hid the discomfort behind them.

"Nothing, you just seemed off," Ladybug pressed on. "Are you absolutely sure you're okay?"

"Maybe-" he said, taking her hand from his shoulder, "-this cat just can't bear to be away from his lady for far too long." He kissed her knuckles leisurely. "Purr-haps he misses her too much."

"Sure he does." She meant for it to come off as teasing, barely toeing the line of friendly and flirty, but if anything it came off as even more concerned.

"Don't worry, m'lady. I just remembered something I have to do today at the last minute." He said.

"Do you need help? Is there anything I can do?" She asked, her mind already making up plans for a problem she didn't even know anything about beyond its existence.

"Un-fur-tune-ately, I can't say anything without giving away my secret identity." He shrugged. "Besides it's nothing serious. Just a quick errand I need to run."

His drooped shoulders had straightened up again in the speed of light.

"Okay." Ladybug murmured, sneaking a peek at his still-flattened cat ears. "If you say so."

She climbed on the ledge of the roof, preparing to take off. "See you tomorrow?" She asked.

"I'll be counting the seconds, m'lady." He bowed dramatically.

She couldn't even muster a laugh at that, like she usually would have. Her rapidly beating heart was taking up all her energy.

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

"I'm here!!" Marinette declared with a loud shriek as she ran into her first class of the day.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, madame!" She bowed stiffly at her teacher's desk. "I had an assignment to finish and I stayed up late ironing my dog and I-"

To her surprise, she was cut off by her entire class laughing.

"Don't worry, Marinette." Alya called, making Marinette turn around. "You actually turned up earlier than Her Royal Majesty."

And that only made everyone laugh even louder. She faced the desk again, ready to flinch against her teacher's glare only to find out she had been bowing to an empty desk.

"Eep!" Marinette's cheeks colored in embarrassment as she turned to face her classmates' fond laughter.

"How's the dog doing, Marinette?" Alix catcalled.

Marinette made herself smaller as she walked to her seat next to Alya.

"I didn't mean to say that!" She protested, fuming.

Turning to her best friend, she whispered, "I only meant-"

"You were ironing your Adrien posters?" Alya giggled in a whisper.

"Alya!" Marinette flushed.

"I know, girl. Only teasing." She patted her back.

It was only then Marinette realized the lack of a certain blond mop of hair in her sight.

"Where's Adrien?" She asked. "Is he not coming to school today?"

"Hm, I'm not sure," Alya said, when Nino turned around to answer Marinette. "He's not coming to school for today, actually."

"What?" Marinette said, aghast, before toning it down. "Ahem, I mean, how come?"

Nino's face fell a little. "Well...um, how do I say this?"

Marinette glanced at Alya, who looked just as confused as she was.

"It's his mom's birthday." Nino winced.

Both girls gasped.

"Oh no," Alya said sympathetically.

"So, you know, he has to stay home and everything 'cause his father insists on having this memorial and everything." Nino looked more and more uncomfortable as he spoke, like he was imagining himself in Adrien's place the whole time. "And by memorial I mean piling more work on the poor kid."

"Why didn't any of us know?" Marinette asked, her heart twanging painfully for her crush- er, friend. "We could have done something, we could have at least told him-"

"I don't know, Marinette, but you two know how shy he is about these things." Nino said, ducking even more under his cap.

"That's true." Alya said thoughtfully, letting Nino entwine his fingers with her hand as his thumb caressed her knuckles. "He almost never talks about what's going on at home, does he?"

(Maybe now wasn't a good time to feel envious of Alya and Nino's ease when it came to affection, but it was hard not to.)

Marinette straightened her thoughts.

Her crush on him had no less faded over the last year. Her heart still beat loudly at even the slightest brush of his skin against hers, but Marinette was proud of herself for realizing that talking to Adrien normally and foaming at the mouth were mutually exclusive.

And as his friend, she couldn't let Adrien be alone at a time like this!

Not like she could actually ever get into his house unless she risked Tikki's wrath by abusing her powers.

"I can hear the gears in your brain turning, Marinette." Alya poked her shoulder. "What are you thinking?"

"Nino?" Marinette said hesitantly. "If I made Adrien something to cheer him up, and gave it to him, would he consider it insensitive?"

Nino immediately brightened up. "No way, dude! He would love something like that! Especially from you!"

"Especially from me?" Marinette paraphrased.

"Uh, what Nino means to say is that no one would ever refuse a gift as sweet as that!" Alya said through gritted teeth. "You just know a softie like Adrien would melt at your declaration of-"

"-Alya!" Marinette interjected.

"-friendship!" Alya finished, but Marinette was a 100 percent sure that was not what she was going to say. "Besides girl, who are we to stop you from a creative spree?"

Marinette sighed in relief. The last thing she needed was a conversation about her love life. She was NOT going to use this as an opportunity to confess.

"I don't think you'll be able to see him though. You'd have to mail it to him. Just like I'm gonna put his notes in that large mailbox you can't even open." Nino sounded disgruntled.

"Oh." Marinette said, her spirits sinking. Giving the present in person would have been nice. Seeing Adrien's handsome face hopefully brighten up as he opened it....

"Well, it doesn't really matter. As long as he gets it, am I right?" She said, ignoring the painful wiggle in her chest.

"Yep, don't forget to sign it, and you'll be fine." Alya teased, much to Marinette's chagrin.

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Finding a picture of Emilie Agreste was easy enough. She was an actress, after all.

But finding one of her with Adrien in it? Looks like Gabriel Agreste was talented at keeping his private life private. She couldn't find any picture or even some sort of information that would help in sketching her portrait for Adrien.

"Uh, Marinette?" Tikki landed on her shoulder. "I don't think you'll need information about Mme. Agreste's movies to draw a portrait of her."

"No, I know that, Tikki, it's just..." she put her phone down and looked at the bare boned sketch in her tablet. "I needed something to prove to myself that I'm not drawing the picture of a ghost." She gulped. "It's crazy how if it weren't for these official photos, it's almost like...."

"...she never existed?" Tikki said ominously. "Yes." Marinette sighed. "I can't imagine how Adrien must be feeling right now."

She couldn't fathom waking up one day and being told that one of her parents had gone forever, never to return.

It was too unbearable. How did Adrien live with it everyday?

"That's why he's so lucky to have friends like you, Marinette!" Tikki said encouragingly. "This is so thoughtful of you!"

"I guess..." Marinette mumbled.

"You could...maybe look up some movie stills?" Tikki suggested.

"No, Tikki, this has to be perfect!" Marinette said. "I doubt he wants his mom to look so...manufactured." she grumbled. "And I really want to draw him in too... I can always use one of his photos as reference but - what if Adrien thinks I'm insensitive for reminding him about the very thing he's trying to forget?! And then he'll hate me forever!" She catastrophized.

"Oh, Marinette." Tikki shook her tiny head. "You know, someone very wise told me that the most important thing about a present is the person giving it."

"Who said that?"

"You did!" Tikki said. "And you know that Adrien wouldn't ever say that to you."

"Yeah...he's too kind to say something bad about my lame drawing."

"Nuh uh." Tikki flew directly up to Marinette's nose. "No negative thoughts. You are going to make a beautiful painting, filled with a lot of love, Adrien is going to absolutely love your present."

Marinette half-smiled. "Thanks, Tikki. What would I do without you?"

Tikki paused to kiss Marinette's forehead. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yes." Marinette said determinedly, keeping an eye on the two photos open in her monitor as she began to sketch.

She had no idea how long she had been drawing, but for some reason her eyes kept on drifting towards the little cat toy she and Chat Noir used to communicate with each other.

Her kitty was pretty out of it today. Was he doing okay? Did his errand go well? What had made him look so disappointed?

Well, he always did look a little sad every time they had to part ways, but she always assumed it had something to do with not being able to see each other as much as they would like.

She knew because she felt the same. In a world full of school assignments, commissions, half worded excuses and akuma attacks, it was practically impossible to imagine it all without Chat Noir. He was one of the few constants in her whirlwind of a life.

Was he doing okay?

"Hey, Tikki?"

"Yes, Marinette?" She looked up from chewing on her cookie.

"Do you think Chat Noir is okay?"

"Ah, but that's a question only Chat Noir can answer."

"That does not help." Marinette grumbled. "Would I be prying if I asked today how his day went? I'm the one enforcing the secret identity rules after all."

"Just talk to him, I'm sure he'd be open to discussing things a little."

"You sure I won't make him uncomfortable? That's the last thing I want to do."

"He's your partner, Marinette, if you can't talk hypothetically with him, who can you talk to?" She said. "Literally." She added after a beat.

Marinette mustered a chuckle, eyeing the kitty toy one last time. "If you say so." She returned to sketching Adrien's vivid green eyes which so resembled his mother's.

And Chat Noir's.

Adrien needed to get away.

That was all he wanted out of life. To get away from his current one.

Staying put in his room for 13 years couldn't have been all there was to life. So he escaped to public school.

Being kind, polite, engaging yet restrained couldn't have been all there was to engage in conversations. A ring and a tiny trickster god gave him an escape route for that.

Maybe, just maybe, in an island far away, where no one could find him, where no one except Ladybug had to put up with him willingly, he wouldn't have to hold back fearing his father's reaction on his mother's birthday of all days.

He felt bad about leaving Nino on read, he felt worse upon learning that his father would not be joining him for dinner AGAIN.

For once, Plagg didn't complain, and he was grateful.

He vaulted out of his window and ran as far as he could. Maybe not the smartest of moves - as a superhero he did technically know the city better than most people.

He was also that kid trapped in a gilded cage for most of his formative years.

His feet took him somewhere, for all he cared he could have ended up in his dream island with Ladybug waiting for him there and he wouldn't have noticed.

A stitch in his side made him stop in his tracks.

His knee hit the narrow roof he had landed on.

'That's weird.' he thought. He usually had no problem running marathons in his super suit.

He grunted, panting heavily as he slid down the chimney. Was even his body refusing to co-operate today? The ONE time he wanted to run away for a few minutes - and of course he practically collapses on a stranger's roof.

'Unbelievable.'

Who was he kidding? He was the superhero of bad luck. What was he expecting, really?

A glint of a streetlight caught his attention.

He could see his school!

Which meant...the house he was sitting on-

"Such a clear night out, don't you think?"

Adrien jumped skittishly, only nearly catching himself at the edge of the roof.

Crap.

Maybe she hadn't heard him?

"Who's there?!" He heard her call out cautiously.

Ok. Maybe she thought it was a LITERAL cat.

"I can hear you!" he heard her, much more braver this time. "I am armed!"

Just when everything was going wrong today, he just had to scare Marinette too.

"WOAH!" He revealed himself, his hands up in surrender. "No need for a catfight, princess. It's just me."

"Chat Noir?" Marinette put down her...potted plant?

"You weren't gonna plant evidence of a murder, were you?" he joked, trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart.

She placed her hands on her hips. "Very funny."

He landed on her railing. "Sorry." he said apologetically. "I was just passing by and I accidentally slid off your roof. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Oh, that's okay." she waved it off. "I wasn't THAT scared."

Adrien's breath hitched a little once he finally got to look at his friend. She was wearing a cardigan over her pink and white pajamas.

And her hair was down.

"Did something happen?" Marinette asked. "Is there an akuma out?"

Her blue eyes glinted with dangerous anxiety.

He didn't understand why he found that...alluring? Of course she would be cautious about having akumas out and about. She lived in Paris just like everyone else.

"No, no." He clarified. "I was out and about. You know, just wanted to get some fresh air and look over my favourite city." he said half-heartedly.

"What about Ladybug?" she asked with a small smile. "Are you two patrolling together today?"

He winced.

"Um...no. Not today. She's probably getting some well-deserved rest, I think." he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"Oh. I see." Marinette said shortly. "Good for her."

"Don't let me keep you!" Chat said hurriedly. "I'll just be off-"

"Wait!" Marinette stopped him, her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked, taking her hand away, but the concern still remained.

He was momentarily distracted by her pushing back one of the strands of hair away from her face.

Fisting his itching fingers, he tried to appear confused.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

She narrowed her eyes, looking at him up and down. "You look exhausted."

"Pffffft."

He didn't know why his knee jerk reaction was to laugh.

Marinette looked at him like he had grown an extra tail.

"Don't worry, ma princesse, these suits are immune to exhaustion."

"But you're not." she said flatly, making him blink. "There's still a normal person behind the mask, and he looks like he hasn't slept in days."

"Oh come on, it was only yesterday and today!" he said defensively.

"Chat Noir!" Marinette exclaimed.

"I don't see you tucking yourself in."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a superhero with a duty to the city now, am I? You need the extra sleep more than I do."

He opened his mouth to retort, but there was nothing witty about silence.

"I rest my case." she said, smugly smiling at him.

"I just couldn't sleep, okay?" he sighed, brushing his hair back. "Things...are going on in my life."

He almost found himself elaborating before realising that he still wore a mask.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Marinette asked him kindly.

Putting Marinette in danger was the last thing he wanted.

"I don't think I can explain fully." he said, truly disappointed. "Identity rules and all that."

"Oh." a flicker of sadness passed through her face, before she straightened up.

"You don't have to tell me everything! But is there anything else I can do to help?"

'Not unless you can magically find my mother again.' he thought pitifully.

"Thank you, Marinette. You're one of the kindest people I know and I really appreciate it, but there's not much I can do so..."

"Well." Marinette didn't seem to want to give up on him. "I came up here to make a present for my cr- I mean friend, and I have cookies! Do you want to rest here for a while?"

Cookies.

Cookies sounded great.

Some time with his friend sounded absolutely incredible too.

"If it's not too much of a bother..."

"Get down, you silly cat!" she laughed in a tinkling echo, pulling on his arm impatiently.

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He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something sweet.

What a way to break a fast.

"Careful, you're gonna mold your teeth together." A finger poked his cheek playfully.

"Hm?" He started, his mouth still full of chocolate chip cookies. "Whaffyoumen?" he burbled.

Oops. It probably wasn't a good idea to talk with his mouth full. He could almost feel Nathalie's disapproving glare on him.

But Marinette only choked out a chuckle. "You should see your face right now!"

He slowly swallowed, taking in how her entire body moved when she laughed. Her slender shoulders shook in mirth...and was she wiping tears from her eyes?

"Well, can you blame me?" he said, stifling the surprise he felt at his voice sounding normal. He hadn't even realised that he had swallowed his food.

"The Dupain-Cheng cookies are out of this world!" he hummed appreciatively as he bit into another cookie. "This stray cat is probably gonna linger for a long time, disturbing your good night's sleep all for a taste of your legendary cookies, and you will have no one but yourself to blame." he warned seriously, leaning against the wooden frame of the side of Marinette's deck chair.

"Well I hope the stray knows he is always welcome here." Marinette said, putting her e-marker down.

He blinked, taken aback at her very forward words.

He really was joking. He wasn't really going to come back again and again like a creep and intrude on Marinette's night.

"And I'm probably the biggest night owl I know." she shrugged. "I'm always up sewing or drawing or something or the other."

"Wow, no wonder you're always late to school." he blurted without thinking.

Marinette stiffened, slowly raising her head to look at him.

"How did you know I was always late to school?" she narrowed her eyes at him.

Crap.

Why couldn't he keep his big mouth shut? Now he had gone and babbled to Marinette - and Ladybug was going to have his skin for this-

"I...didn't?" he stammered, thinking quickly. "But now I do!" he schooled his expression into a joking one. "Tsk, tsk, Marinette, it's not good for kids to be so tardy-hey!"

He was cut off by Marinette slamming a throw pillow into his face. "You-you trickster!"

"But I didn't do anything!" He let out a broken laugh, trying to dodge Marinette's well-placed hits.

"I wasn't the one who accused myself of being late!"

"I wasn't the one who confirmed it!" He chuckled as the pillow hit his shoulder, along with a hard hit from her knuckles. "But I bet you're in detention all the time."

"I'll have you know I'm a star student!" Marinette sat up straight, lifting her shoulders proudly. "I am perfectly capable of keeping up with all my work."

Well, he knew she wasn't wrong. Marinette was one of their best students and Adrien had often found himself wondering just how she kept up with all her work.

"My a-paw-logies, purrincess." he bowed his head deeply. "I had no idea your talents made you more than just a pretty girl. And that's saying something, coming from the prettiest cat in all of Paris." he flaunted obnoxiously.

"You silly cat." Marinette rolled her eyes, and his breath hitched.

Something about this was vaguely familiar. The proud tone of voice, the firm set of her chin, the slight glare in her eyes - like he was a challenge she was not afraid of.

Of course he knew that Marinette possessed a lot of qualities he would associate with Ladybug. Her kindness, her bravery, her headstrong nature, her blue eyes, her silky hair that no doubt reminded him of his fantasies of a Ladybug with her hair down.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Adrien felt ashamed of himself. Here she was, being impossibly more kind to him than he deserved, and here he was, acting beyond stupidly.

Marinette was a pretty girl, he had always known that, he wasn't going to deny it, but he wasn't going to fixate on it anymore.

Besides, Ladybug was the only one for him...right?

"Believe me," he reached out to hold her hand. "Talking about the new UMS update and shoving cookies down my throat is exactly what I needed."

He squeezed her hand and let go, partly embarrassed that he really wanted to kiss it and partly furious that he had even considered that.

“You’re amazing, Marinette. I really hope you know that.”

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. “Oh stop, I didn’t do anything, I really enjoy your company anyway. But I’m really glad you’re feeling better!"

She did much more than she thought. Somehow a half an hour of proximity to Marinette’s radiance did wonders to his mood.

"Thanks." he said, the smile playing easily on his lips.

"Oh come on!" Marinette sighed exasperated, pointing to her tablet.

It was scattered on its back on the pillow which Marinette had used to bonk him.

"Oops, sorry, princess!" He said hastily, picking it up and turning it on.

He breathed a sigh of relief when it flickered on. The last thing he wanted was to inconvenience Marinette with his clownery.

"What were you drawing anyway?" he asked, grinning up at her. "Another incredible design worthy of the front cover of Vogue?"

He glanced down at the screen, and Marinette snatched her tablet away quickly.

One second was enough to register what he had seen.

"Uh, ah, not exactly...?" Marinette stammered. "I-it's nothing! I was just trying out some new sketches and stuff!! I'm always drawing dresses and that gets boring after a while don't you think?!" she let out a very loud, and nervous laugh.

Chat was sure his mind was playing tricks on him.

His mother was on his mind all day, so obviously the first thing he saw on a screen would be a very detailed and meticulous sketch of a portrait of him and his mother.

"Uh, is that the Agreste kid?" he gulped. "I recognize him from all the billboards and stuff."

"N-no! It's not! Like I said, I was just practicing sketching people and this was the first thing that popped up in google!" she dropped the tablet again on her lap to flail her arms around. "It's nothing!!"

Not that he was able to register her art in complete detail - but the first thing about it that caught his eye was well, his eyes.

"May I...?" he asked gently, holding out a gloved hand.

He waited for her to give the tablet to him, (which strangely brought about a sense of deja vu regarding an umbrella) and peered at the drawing.

It was the color of leaves, the color of grass, the kind of shade that made one slack-jawed at its brilliance.

He was always told that his almond shaped eyes were beautiful, but it's not like he ever cared for things like that.

Marinette was flustered and nervous, a lot, but she wasn't the kind to falsely exaggerate things.

Why did Marinette draw him like that? So expressive? So full of life?

One look at the beautiful, smiling woman with her arms around his shoulders gave him the answer.

Whoever said it was easy to know the worth of our loved ones wasn't wrong. His mum was smiling for the camera, but her green eyes (the same shade as his) were peering down at him lovingly.

Tears pricked at the back of his eyes but he forced them back.

He missed her. He missed how she used to play the piano for him, how she would let him place his tiny hands over hers while she taught him the chords, how she used to be a fan of every tv show he watched, how her voice reading a bedtime story used to be the only thing that would rock him to sleep.

He cleared his throat and said, "It looks stunning, Marinette. You are so talented!!"

Marinette deserved the praise. His blubbering could wait for now.

"R-really?"

For the first time, Marinette was actually shy in front of Chat Noir. "T-thank you."

"Is there a story behind this?" he asked, handing her tablet back.

"I mean, it's curious how of all people you chose the Agrestes." he tried to come off as conversational and not desperate.

"Well, I...promise me you won't laugh?"

"Is it a joke I will laugh at?" He raised an eyebrow.

(Oh no, what if it was a joke?! What if Marinette was just practicing and he went and made it more serious than it actually is-)

"Chat!" she snapped.

"Okay, okay, I promise." he drew a cross over his heart. "Feline's honour."

"Okay." Marinette took a deep breath before answering. "You know how Adrien Agreste is in my class?"

"Yeah!" he said a bit too enthusiastically before reeling himself in. "I mean, I've seen him around." he amended.

"Okay so, today is his late mother's birthday." she mumbled, twiddling her thumbs.

"You know-?"

"Not that I researched it!" she practically yelled. "His best friend told me! And he was pretty worried because Adrien didn't come to school and I was worried too - because well, uh, I really can't imagine how awful he must be feeling and I just wanted to make him something so that he could feel better....?"

Words were failing him.

She must have taken his silence for disgust because she prattled on. "I would have finished it sooner and mailed it to him but its so PERSONAL and I didn't want to be insensitive, what am I SAYING-"

"Wait." Chat interrupted. "The gift you were talking about. The one for your friend. It's this?"

She hesitated before nodding.

If the tears were imminent before, they were lashing away at his eyes, threatening to blur the lines of superhero-civilian-friend-acquaintance and throw his arms around Marinette and sob into her shoulder and thank her for the rest of his life.

Adrien wasn't Chat Noir for nothing. He had learned the difference between the emotions he could express and the emotions he had to keep in check.

"Marinette?" he asked, gulping down his tears. "Why would I laugh at this?"

"I don't know...isn't it childish? Wouldn't he prefer something better? Something that doesn't remind him of someone he is grieving for? What if he hates it?? What if he never wants to see me again??" her voice was progressively getting louder.

"Marinette-" He reached out to hold her shoulders, but she beat him to it, gripping his arms and shaking him a little.

"I'll never forgive myself if that happens!!"

Of course he knew Marinette cared. She was the kindest person he knew.

He didn't know she cared about him enough to pour her heart and soul into a beautiful present made just for him. He didn't know she cared so much about HIS opinion on something. No one ever asked him what his thoughts and opinions were.

But why him? Why him of all people?

"Marinette." he said gently, willing himself to calm down as he held her arms and pushing himself away gently.

He couldn't sit too close. If he did, he would want to hug her and bury his face into her neck and have a good cry, and worse, he WOULD do exactly that.

"Why would Adrien dislike it?" he murmured. "He would be more than happy to recieve something amazing like that."

"You're just saying that." she said miserably, her shoulders hunching over.

"No!! Trust me, Adrien is going to LOVE it. He is..." one of his claws caught absent mindedly on a stray strand of hair.

It had dislodged itself away from her hair.

Well that simply wouldn't do.

"He is so lucky to have a friend like you."

He didn't know why the word 'friend' was suddenly so hard to say.

"There's a reason why you are my favourite civilian, you know." he said, pushing the lock of hair behind her ear.

She involuntarily snorted. "You're a superhero. You can't play favourites."

"I can if my favourite is the kindest, most talented, most incredible person I know." he retorted.

Did he hear her breath hitch?

"But Adrien is the best friend anyone could ask for! He's always so supportive, he never turns down an opportunity to help someone out, even in his busy schedule - he's so hands-uh, he's very hands on!!" She stammered at the last minute. "I can't give him any old drawing and expect him to accept it!"

"That old drawing??" he repeated incredulously. "I can't believe you are insulting that work of art!"

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

"I don't, actually." he quipped. "I don't see any reason why he shouldn't accept it. And if he's half the decent dude you say he is, he will. Believe me, Marinette. Amazing girls like you should have nothing to worry about. If anything, your friend Adrien is the lucky one."

He meant it with his whole heart. If he couldn't hug Marinette (and stay there for the rest of his life) as Chat Noir, tomorrow he was going to do it as Adrien and let her know just how wonderful of a person she truly was.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one comforting you?" her tone was teasing, but sincere at the same time.

"Anything for my favourite civilian, remember?" He winked.

To his utter surprise, Marinette flung her arms around him in a tight hug.

She didn't even take him by surprise, yet he felt like the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

She practically had to kneel while he was able to envelop her in his arms while sitting down.

She was the small one, but he was the one feeling safe and protected in her embrace.

He was able to register how rapid her heartbeat was (or maybe it was his, he couldn't tell), how she breathed, how her cheek was pressed against his shoulder -

"Thank you for being such a good friend, Chat Noir." she said into his chest.

'You. Are. A. Despicable. Human. Being.' His conscience snarled as it sunk.

Why was it? He was more than happy to be Marinette's friend. He was!

"Hey," Marinette said into his ear, after a few minutes (or atleast he thought so), "Ladybug is incredible and all, but between you and me, it's you I'm a fan of."

Marinette Dupain Cheng was a CHAT NOIR fan?

MARINETTE DUPAIN CHENG was a Chat Noir fan!

His ego swelled and deflated at that.

"Well, No. #1 fan, I'm all for selfies, as long as the camera flash isn't turned on and I autograph in paw prints and ink." he said cheekily.

"Gee." Marinette said flatly. "No thank you. I'd rather not have my papers stained in paw prints."

"Well some of us can't draw as well as you. It would be unbecoming of me to scribble all over your headshots of me you're no doubt hiding."

Her cheeks turned pink at that, but quickly calmed down. "Ha, you wish." she turned away shyly.

"Marinette?" he said kindly. "I meant every word I said. If Adrien hates your present, I'm sorry to say this but he can piss right off."

He was met with a another pillow to his face.

"Watch it," she said threateningly but he could hear the smile in her voice.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette #chat noir #marichat #aps secret santa #my fics

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genshin-impact-fics · 3 years

Text

To Protect

Pairing: Kaiser x Albedo (OcXCanon)

Warning: If you haven't done the "We Will Be Reunited" chapter of the story know that this fic is kind of spolierish.

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a fic so I'm a lil on the rusty side. I'm also thinking of writing an alternative route/ending of this story which will go one of two ways I have in mind :3

It seemed that the Abyss Order was hunting down any sort of lead of powerful beings that the prince/princess could utilize to rid the world of the archons and gods alike from this world. It seemed like their latest target was a certain alchemist that spent his time up in the cold mountains of Dragonspine.

Once again Albedo was up in the harshly cold mountains working on a new experiment that should enhance a person’s resilience to the sheer cold in Dragonspine. If he could manage to create an effective formula then it would make traversing the cold land a little bit easier especially the knights that needed to be there; however the traveler was away doing commissions which meant he’d have to look for someone else which thankfully Albedo was able to once again request the help of his fellow knight member and friend Kaiser. The two were currently standing by a fire nearby the open area where the cyro hypostasis resides. “I’m not going to get sick from this one will I,” Kaiser asked while examining the liquid contents within the vile as last time he had her assist with an experiment, they quickly discovered that she happened to be very allergic to energy nectar. Albedo still felt terribly about that incident as he never wanted to harm others with his experiments though there just seemed to be some things that were out of his control; since then he’s made sure to not give her anything with any nectar in it, not wanting to see her suffer like she did again.

“I promise you that you shouldn’t get sick from this as I’ve taken the liberty of trying on myself first to ensure your safety. But because I don't get too bothered I needed someone who would best benefit from this,” he reassured her as yes after a prolonged amount of time he’ll get very cold so the data he’ll collect from this trail should give him a good understanding of where to go from there. “Right,” she said, opening it and drinking it all before handing back the empty vile. “So all I have to do is stay in the cold for however long until I feel like I’m freezing,” she reiterated to clarify what she was doing exactly. Giving a firm nod he gave a ghost of a smile before saying, “Yes you’re correct. I’ve mapped out areas with groups of hilichurl camps that you can take care of. If at any time you’re getting cold or don’t feel well we can rest at a safe spot and go over my findings.”

With that the two set out as Albedo led the way to the locations he plotted in advance. Things were going smoothly thus far as currently they were at the fourth location and Albedo watched in the short distance observing Kaiser fight the last frostarm lawachurl. Her movements swift and flawless, truly a beautiful sight to witness: the way her long black hair flowed in the chilled winds and flakes of snow, how the electricity she admitted danced around her, even the precision of her swordsmanship with her rapier. Albedo had the urge to take the time to draw this very moment to capture the elegance he saw in Kaiser, but stayed focused on keeping notes as he certainly had taken notice that her normal speed rate was decreasing possibly due to the cold most likely starting to take effect.

The frostarm lawachurl was finally defeated as Kaiser walked over rejoining Albedo and now that she was much closer he could easily see her cheeks and nose were a soft pink color. “How are you feeling,” he asked immediately as he was thinking of possibly calling this a stopping point so she could warm up not wanting her to over do it. “Feeling pretty cold but it isn’t unbearable. Shall we head to the next location? You said there were two more right so let's head out,” she said, turning to walk off but by instinct he quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her from going any further to which she seemed to instantly glance back at him with narrowed eyes. “I think we should at least to take a break and get you warmed up; you’ve surpassed the estimated time I initially hypothesized,” he voiced his opinion to the slightly taller woman. Letting out a small sign a puff of air came from Kaiser as she glanced at his hand that was holding her wrist before glancing back to him; he really was lucky she liked him because if this had been any other person she would have most likely beat the crap out of them by now. “I’ll be fine, besides it shouldn’t take that much longer right? Let’s just finish up and then I’ll rest,” she said persisting that they continue forth with the experiment. Much to his displeasure he decided to listen as he’d be sure to keep a little closer in case he needed to step in and finish the fight so he could get her somewhere warm and possibly mend what injuries she sustained.

For the fifth location they ended up in the open area that had a once active fighting mechanism as there happen to be a few hilichurls still hanging around. He watched as she went over to repeat her process of fighting enemies. His note taking didn’t last much longer as finally he succumbed to his urges of sketching Kaiser and even including the astonishing serpent made out of electricity that went around attacking the hilichurls. When it seemed like she finished off the last one suddenly more came running out of nowhere to attack. Not wasting a second he tossed his clipboard aside to assist her in fighting as surely she had to have been at her tolerant limit.

“I had it perfectly under control. I didn’t need help,” Kaiser said, looking over to Albedo after the last one fell. Her face was much more redder in the nose and cheeks as he could see how she tried to refrain from shivering; letting out a sigh he shouldn’t be surprised, she really does do everything to finish a job by any means necessary. Letting out a small sigh he now stood in front of Kaiser as he was grateful for her hard work but he also worried for her well being. “Yes I know but the way all those hilichurls came out of nowhere was very strange almost as if-” he was saying now holding his chin as he was speculating until suddenly there was a large and strange portal that opened up a couple feet away from the two knights. The two exchanged glances before looking at the portal as two abyss mages came floating out and another one came out that they’ve never seen before: a very tall being dressed in full armor that was dark blue stood between the two mages. “So it is true that the prince of chalk walks these lands. My highness will be pleased with our findings,” the armored being spoke.

Albedo was confused by what this being was saying, but regardless it didn’t sound good. Gripping her rapier tighter in her grasp despite the violent chills running up and down her spine she was prepared to fight. “You’re in no condition to fight,” Albedo said as he knew this fight would be pretty much unavoidable yet he feared that at this rate she’s at a high risk of falling ill and even possibly fainting during battle. “I’ll worry about it later,” she simply said before she was gone in a flash of purple electricity for him to see her already attacking the tall figure with whatever full force she had left in herself. Quick to join the fight he could only wonder if this was the same being that Jean mentioned from the incident that took place in Wolvendom not too long ago. The mages were the easier ones to take out; however, it seemed that even with the two of them against what they learned was to be an abyss Herald was surprisingly difficult. It was when a large burst of water sent them flying back some leaving a couple of feet that separated the two. In a fit of coughing Kaiser slowly pushed herself back up; her body feeling like she fell in the cold waters that surrounded the area, at this point it felt so cold that it was burning. Albedo also recovered from the knock back looking over to check on his dear friend who seemed to not be faring well and how the Herald was staring in her direction, that didn’t sit well with him. “What an interesting display of power,” the Herald said before turning his attention onto Albedo before continuing with “But onto more pressing matters.”

The Herald was beginning to speak in an old language chanting some sort of spell that soon enough right underneath Albedo a circle with various symbols began to appear in a glowing purple color. The glowing beneath him caught his attention causing his teal eyes to widen in surprise; his body standing still instead of moving to get outside of the mysterious circle trying to read the symbols. The glowing only seemed to grow stronger as more purplish mist came from the ground, he might have just left himself in a bad situation. The sound of running boots crunching in the snow didn’t register to him until he was broken out of his thinking when feeling hands harshly pushing him away as he heard, “Move it!” Feeling the cold snow that he landed in it fully brought him back to earth; the sound of rattling chains rung in his ears.

Quick to look over where he once stood to see what happened his eyes widened in terror; Kaiser was trapped completely binded by chains that had that eerily purple mist around it. “Kaiser,” Albedo called her name as once again she protected him from a dangerous situation. His stomach turned feeling nauseous and his chest stung as if it was being twisted. Kaiser looked like she was trying to struggle against the chains yet it was clear she didn’t have much energy to keep up the struggling for too long. “How unexpected,” the Herald said without much of a change in it’s tone. “Get out of here,” Kaiser said looking over to him from the corner of her eye wincing out of pain from trying to breath. Looking over to her he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, she was asking him to just… abandon her here? Shaking his head in a quick no manner he loudly claimed, “I simply cannot just abandon you here by yourself! I will do no such thing.”

“I’m not asking, I’m telling you to leave me here and head down the mountain!”

“But-”

“Can it! Go and alert the others, I’ll try to hold on for as long as I can,” Kaiser said internally knowing it wouldn’t be for that much longer before she blacked out. He’s never felt so useless in his life before yet here he was unmoving from his spot on the snow covered ground unsure of what to do. He was starting to blame himself for everything and there wasn’t a thing he could do to save the person he deeply cared about.

“For someone who holds so much animosity towards the world you still protect its people. Why? Why oppose the Abyss Order,” the abyss Herald asked as Albedo looked at Kaiser. He knew of her past from the stories she’s trusted him enough to tell him and so he understood her anguish… But he never really realized how deep the anger she harbored truly ran. “Just because I hate the world… Doesn’t mean I- have to hate… Everyone in… It,” she managed to speak through her teeth.

Out of nowhere did a tornado come flying through hitting the abyss member and causing him to be pulled away a bit. “You leave our friends alone,” the familiar high pitched voice of Paimon could be heard as much to Albedo’s relief as the traveler had shown up just at the perfect time. Watching the traveler fight against the Herald was outstanding. While the fight was progressing Albedo noticed the chains suddenly disappearing around Kaiser and her body starting to fall over he was quick on his feet and stopped her from falling into the snow. Landing on his knees he held her close feeling her trembling unconscious body against his. Her already pale enough skin now looked almost porcelain white, he couldn’t waste any more time; he needed to get her back to the safety of the lab. Adjusting her and picking her up into his arms he made a hasty escape, the two of them wouldn’t have been any help to the traveler in their condition, they would have just gotten in the way.

Thank the archons that he managed to get back to his lab in the cave safely, but this wasn’t the time to take it easy. Quickly but carefully laying Kaiser at a safe distance from the fire he rushed to get the first aid kit and whatever medicine he had on hand that could help with her recovery. Never had he felt this… Frazzled in his life. Albedo was always so calm and collected he usually was always able to think logically, but now his brain was racing. Cleaning and mending her wounds he wrapped her in two layers of blankets that they kept just in case for the nights if anyone was staying for the night to help warm her up. Sitting beside her to observe her condition though so far she was doing well: the color in her skin was slowly coming back, her breathing didn’t seem to be too strained or shallow, and thankfully nothing appeared to be broken though she may have a bruised rib or two at most. Gently running an ungloved hand over her cheek before brushing some of her black locks away from her face. “Oh Katherine, what am I going to do with you,” he softly questioned himself using her actual name; he thought her name was beautiful and befitting of her yet she didn’t agree.

Hours had passed until she finally awoken as a soft groaning escaped her lips. It took her a moment to register where she was as she tried to recall what happened since the last thing she remembered before passing out was a vortex of wind hitting the abyss Herald. “Please refrain from getting up. Your body needs rest, you put yourself under a lot more stress than you should have,” Albedo advised her while walking over to kneel by her to check on her. She didn’t heed his words as she proceeded to carefully sit up feeling the soreness of her body. “Katherine your wounds won’t heal if you don’t take the time to rest.”

“What did I say about using my name?”

“Well you did say that I can be permitted to call you as such when it was just us Katherine,” he said in a matter of fact tone unable to contain the soft sigh. “I hate when you do that,” she said with a soft narrowed look as though she may have sounded annoyed, but it didn’t match the slightly amused expression on her face. A soft chuckle left his lips as he felt a little bit better seeing she wasn’t acting much different from how she usually did so at least that was a good sign. The two ate the meal Albedo cooked for the two of them as he filled her in on what she missed and how he sent the traveler to go ahead back to the headquarters to report what happened to Jean. After having finished eating and her taking medicine the two sat quietly in front of the fire. The only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the cold winds outside of the cave.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Albedo’s words breaking the silence between the two, looking over to her with a soft expression. Looking over she raised an eyebrow confused.

“Doing what?”

“Almost getting killed for protecting me.”

“Albedo if I didn’t save you when I did you would have been captured by the abyss order for whatever they’re planning! One thing for sure is that they’d turn you against us,” she rebutted as sure being in dangerous situations was something she was used to before being brought into the Knights of Favonius. “E-Eh, hey wait why are you crying,” she said in a slightly panicked manner as never in the time she’s known him has she seen him cry; actually she was pretty sure that he had just about never cried yet here he was. He hadn’t fully noticed the tears falling from his eyes as he felt a rippling pain in his chest listening to her as the events from earlier replayed in his head.

“Even if they did capture me I’d at least know you were safe. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if that creature had taken or killed you,” he honestly spoke as calmly rubbing one eye and the tears just didn’t seem to stop. Surely he would feel even more guilty if he had been the reason behind her and everyone else he cared about suffered, but he knew if it came to that Albedo had faith that the traveler or Kaiser would stop him. The slight irritation she felt from the conversation at hand subsided while listening to him talk. Letting out a sigh she carefully moved herself before reaching her arms out to grab him as she said, “You idiot, come here.” Hugging him around his neck she held him close as there was a moment of hesitation until he wrapped his arms around her completing the embrace. “Everything is fine now, we’re both alive… I’m sorry that I overdid things again. If I had just listened maybe we wouldn’t have gotten into that mess,” she said, speaking in a much softer tone than her usual cold tone, her face turning a light pink color.

Albedo pulled away to look at his beloved friend who he had come to cherish so much; how the fire gave her a soft orangish red glow to her figure. “It wasn’t your fault, you were just helping me as neither of us knew that attack was going to happen… I really do value the time we get to spend together, so please promise me that you’ll continue to stay by my side,” he spoke freely taking one of her hands into his own feeling the slight roughness of her hand. For someone who almost never made any kind of expression that showed his emotion, the faces he made were pretty cute. “... Yeah, I pinkie promise,” she said letting out a small chuckle before leaning in to give his cheek a kiss before resting her head on his shoulder feeling the tiredness kicking in again.

“A pinkie promise?”

“Hehe, what can I say; us Snezhnayans take our promises very seriously.”

“Is that so? I’d be interested to hear more if you’re willing to share,” he commented as it was comfortable being cuddled up like this by the fire, Albedo found it very pleasant to be this close to the female knight. The rest of the night Kaiser shared the old nursery rhyme and stories of her past along with the things she’s encountered during her travels in the past until the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms.

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