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athenaquinn · 3 years

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Chosen || Shiloh & Athena

TIMING: Just before Christmas (December 2020) LOCATION: Shiloh’s home PARTIES: @evanescentform and @athenaquinn SUMMARY: More questions get answered. Alternatively, *eyes emoji*. CONTENT: mentions of parental death, mentions of past abuse, brief internalized homophobia

Shiloh had recalled once upon a time she had agreed to do some baking with Athena - that agreement itself felt like years ago. While she really hardly had the energy for it, she knew she shouldn’t reject an offer to do something considering most of her day was spent asleep. If she was going to get out of this slump, she had to do things like this. Baking was fun right? She remembered how much fun it was and while her most recent attempt didn’t turn out so great, this time she was going to do it with a friend. What could go wrong? Thankfully, Athena gave her some time to clean up and have her place not look like a mess. Shiloh was hardly one to keep a mess so the fact that she had clothes lying about and unwashed dishes here and there was frankly, very embarrassing. So once the place looked more or less clean, she went into the shower and managed to get ready just in time to hear a knock at her door. The knock caused Jiji to run up the stairs and Shiloh couldn’t help but smile at her shy cat as she heard his bell jingle up the stairs. Opening, her smile widened to greet Athena. “Hey, it’s good to see you. Come in,” she gestured for her to step inside out of the cold.

She was still curious about Shiloh after all these months. After the carnival she hadn’t been left with any solid answers and Athena hated that. Hated not knowing things. Shiloh had all but completely disappeared for the past couple of months - and so when she’d heard that Shiloh was back in town, she had quickly reached out - because they’d never gotten around to baking before Shiloh had gone away, and it was as good an excuse as any to get to talk to her again, to get to know her better. To see if she could find any sort of way to answer the questions she still had. She’d brought over a few cookbooks in her tote bag, but otherwise was dressed as normally as possible - wearing a fleece jacket, her fingers fiddling with her ring before she paused and knocked on the door, standing up taller as Shiloh opened the door. She was just slightly taller than Athena, though not so much so that it was too much. “Hey.” She grinned. “I appreciate it,” she moved inside, pulling off her fleece. “I’m glad we’re finally getting to do this!”

A bit of a nervousness washed over Shiloh but it wasn’t strong so it was simple to ignore with a smile. She hadn’t spent time with Athena since the carnival and she was interested in getting to know a potential friend better. It was also nice to spend time with another person because she was becoming a shut in. It didn’t help that last she went out, her nerves - or her “hunter senses” as her cousin explained - felt like she was surrounded. “Yeah, me too. What do we have in store for us today?” Baking made Shiloh feel better. That much was a fact. Sure it was some hard work but the end product was delicious and stuffing her face with sweets seemed like a great way to spend the rest of the day. “I went grocery shopping the other day so my pantry is full of probably anything we could need. All purpose flour, cake flour, spices, sugar….” Shiloh would list it all but Athena got the hint. If anything maybe Shiloh didn’t have food coloring but she didn’t tend to use that anyway when she baked.

“I mean, I’m down for anything.” The nervous energies that seemed to be increasingly present in her life didn’t help that one bit. It didn’t help that something had been feeling a bit off lately, though Athena pushed it aside as excess nerves - from Lydia to Amanda to everything still with her parents, and everything normal on top of that, it was almost too overwhelming, but baking helped with that and she liked Shiloh’s company. Which made her hope and pray that she wasn’t supernatural. “I’m real good with cookies and things like that, but I think we’d talked about maple scones, so if you’d like that we just need maple syrup or something in that vein, so if you have that, awesome! If not, we can do whatever your favorite recipe is.”

“Maple scones sound delicious. I actually have maple syrup.” Shiloh walked over to her cupboard. “I bought it a few days ago cause I wanted to make some gingerbread and maple cookies.” She chuckled at what she would say next. “Haven’t gotten around to gingerbread though.” Grabbing the jar she set it on her island for Athena to inspect and make sure it was what she needed for maple scones. “Maybe we can work on them later if I don’t scare you away with my baking skills.” Not to say Shiloh was unconfident in her capabilities, it’s just that no two people cooked similarly in her mind. Maybe Athena was a mess in the kitchen or maybe Shiloh was the messy one in her eyes. Shiloh didn’t think she made too much of a mess when she baked, but she’d be lying if she said that was one of her priorities when it came to baking. As long as it tasted good, the mess it left was worth it.

“Good. Maple scones it is then.” That was easy, but scones always required a certain level of precision, and that was something that Athena appreciated. Maybe it would mean that they would have some time to talk - though she wasn’t exactly sure how much more she could question Shiloh, or how responsive the woman would be to more poking and prodding. “I don’t think you’ll scare me away with your baking skills. I’m not so easily scared.” She winked. Glancing over to the fridge, she couldn’t help but notice a small rainbow flag stuck on with a magnet. That much pulled at her curiosity, but she certainly wasn’t about to ask anything, at least not yet. She hardly used the word bisexual herself yet, even though she knew that was what she was - or that was what it seemed to be. “Gingerbread is good.” Her mother had been big on that. “I’m just relieved you’ll get to try maple scones. It’s a rite of passage.” She smiled, “I mean, not really, but they are a great sort of scone, at least I think so.”

Shiloh knew how to make scones - what kind of English girl would she be if she didn’t know how to make that! She began to grab all the things needed like flour and sugar and bowls and measuring cups. She laid it out on the counter for Athena to inspect. “Do you use anything like cinnamon or vanilla extract in your maple scones?” Shiloh asked as she looked through the cupboards for exactly those ingredients just in case. You never know what might be in one’s recipe won’t be in another’s for the same thing. Shiloh chuckled at Athena’s comment, however. “How are they a rite of passage? Is it something your family makes for the holidays?” That got Shiloh into thinking about some family traditions she had come into contact with. “You know I had an ex girlfriend whose family baked fritters - they have a name I just can’t remember it now - but they were really good and easy to make. I remember I went to their place for the holidays and I impressed them with my skills.” She snorted as she said that last part, surprised she could even recall such a positive memory even if things had long ended with that specific ex.

“We could use a bit of vanilla, why not?” Athena shrugged. She knew that some of the recipes did call for that, and it added a bit of excitement to the whole thing - besides, maple and vanilla were two flavors that blended together well, and she could be completely willing to compromise especially if it meant she’d talk to Shiloh more, possibly be able to figure out if anything was up or if whatever hunch she had was too far-fetched. Which was possible - she did know that she sometimes was quick to judge, and nothing about Shiloh set off her senses, but there was something in the way that the two of them had talked and the way that Shiloh held herself once they’d actually met that made Athena wonder if there was something more. “Oh, just living in Maine is all. My mom makes gingerbread.” Made. “Sorry, made. She - anyhow, no, I just like maple scones and I like to encourage that love on others, too.” At the mention of an ex-girlfriend, Athena’s gaze shifted over to the rainbow flag again. “Oh yeah? That sounds cool! Maybe you’ll have to teach me how to make those sometime. If we do this again, that is, I mean.”

“Oh, are Maine and maple syrup a pair?” Shiloh asked, bringing her index fingers on both hands together as she spoke. She wondered if other American states had a food pairing as well. Her thoughts were interrupted when she caught Athena correcting herself. Shiloh didn’t know what to say. She had experienced a loss herself but that was nothing compared to the loss of a mother. She only knew her cousin for a few months, this was Athena’s mother. Oh boy. “Tell you what, after we do these maple scones today, next time,” Shiloh reassured, “we can do gingerbread in honor of your mother. How does that sound? After that I can show you the fritters. When I remember what they’re called.” Shiloh hoped that would turn the mood around even though Athena seemed to be holding it very well - Shiloh would argue better than she had. But people mourned in different ways. “See - now we have two baking plans in the future!”

“I mean, sort of. Blueberries even more so, but maple syrup is big up here.” Athena watched Shiloh carefully. Maybe she shouldn’t have corrected herself on the mother thing, but her mother had been big in town, and there had been a news article about her, and it didn’t take a lot for Shiloh to find that out. So really, it was on Athena for her phrasing. Except she was now being offered sympathy and she didn’t know how to hold onto that when she wasn’t supposed to be sad for her parents, no matter how much she still put on a face of that. No matter how much she could still hear her parents’ voices sometimes or feel her mother braiding her hair. “No, it’s really fine!” She grabbed one of the bowls for a moment, before setting it back down on the counter. “I’d much rather have the fritters. Those sound new and I’m down to try new things.” She giggled. “But for now, we’ve got to get you to like maple scones.” She looked back over to the fridge. “I, uh, that flag is nice! Have you had it for a while?” She winced at her own awkwardness - she was supposed to know what to say, it was her brother’s job to trip over his words. “Regardless, we should get started. After all, this plan has been in the works for a few months now.”

Blueberries and maple, huh, good to know. Shiloh was taken off guard by how Athena didn’t seem interested in making gingerbread in honor of her dead mother but, like she was well aware, people grieve in different ways. Shiloh was probably pushing her to do something she wasn’t ready for. She was thankful Athena could set her boundaries and decline the offer. “Fritters it is then.” Shiloh let out a small chuckle, hoping to ease her own nerves with that laugh. “I mean, if you want to just make it a two-time thing, I understand.” Shiloh teased with a shrug, trying to make it seem like she was genuinely upset over being unable to bake for a third time with Athena however, Shiloh couldn’t keep her smile contained, giving herself away. At the mention of a flag, Shiloh was confused before turning around to look at her fridge. Her eyes darted from the fridge to Athena with a widening smirk. “Uh, thanks I got it at last year’s pride.” Shiloh said as she started to scoop some flour with a measuring cup. “Hey, I don’t know about you but I think I can multitask being gay and baking.” Shiloh teased.

Neither she nor her brother had ever really been taught how to fully process grief, that much she knew. Athena sighed. “It’s - well, I appreciate you offering, but I think sometimes it’s best to move past things.” Better than yeah, I don’t want to honor my mother because she and my father hurt me and my brother for years and were manipulative and dealing with the fact that I killed them is still really complicated. “Oh, no.” She let her hands fly up to cover her face. “Not what I meant.” She really was tripping over her words in ways that she hadn’t really experienced much at all before today. “That makes sense! Did you go with anyone, or just to see it all?” She couldn’t help but laugh at Shiloh’s next remark. “Yeah, well, I’ve always been good at multitasking.” She took in a deep breath, because she’d used the words around Ariana and her brother, and even, finally, some of her friends, but Shiloh was still someone new. “So being bisexual and multitasking should be just fine.”

“I understand.” Shiloh completely respected whichever way Athena wanted to grieve. After all, it was her own loss. Shiloh was still trying to figure out how to honor her deceased relative. As well as the seemingly loss of her family’s entire bloodline. Prior to her discovery, she was fine honoring her parents just by living the happy life they would have wanted for her but now she was wondering if they would have wanted another life for her and she couldn’t help but feel she was disappointing them in some way. At the very same time she wasn’t sure she could stomach killing living beings, be them supernatural or not. “I did, I went with a girl I was seeing at the time and a few friends.” Shiloh answered with a nod realizing that Athena nerves might be for a reason other than that Shiloh was still a relatively strange person to her. Athena was gay as well and given how much it took for her to say that, Shiloh was betting on her own discovery being a new one. It was cute and Shiloh was happy to see it. “If anyone is good at multitasking, I’d give it to the bi’s.” Shiloh joked hoping it might calm Athena’s nerves a bit.

“Good.” Athena nodded. Shiloh might have been one of the most confusing people that she’d met, but at least she seemed to take almost anything that Athena threw at her in stride. She only hoped that she wasn’t secretly some sort of supernatural creature, because she did like spending time with her, and Athena wasn’t sure if she could handle being close with too many supernatural beings. “That sounds nice!” Was she trying too hard? She hoped that she didn’t come off that way, because being seen as over-eager only got one so far. “Good one.” She raised an eyebrow. “No wonder I’ve always been good at it.” It was okay to joke about something like that, right? No matter how much she was okay with accepting it, there was a certain part of her that felt like she was wrong for what she was, like this made her less of a golden child (though being less golden in her parents’ eyes might have not been so bad, given everything). “I mean, I’ve been cooking in some capacity since I was basically in preschool, though back then it was a lot more just cracking eggs and dumping the ingredients into a bowl. At least now I’m allowed to use the stove.” She winked at Shiloh. “I think my parents had me bake because it got me to chill out - sometimes I had a hard time concentrating as a kid, though at home was always better.” Of course, any of her concentration issues had always been due to anything supernatural around her, but being given things to concentrate on or think about that weren’t that certainly hadn't hurt.

Shiloh chuckled, resting easy that the nerves were all gone from both of them. Maybe. It was better to keep things light. No talking about dead relatives. Shiloh needed this, some normal, easy time where the most nerve wracking thing was telling someone you were gay. Shiloh understood the fear that came with it. You never knew how someone would react. Thankfully Shiloh had been blessed with a pair of incredibly supportive parents. Not everyone was so lucky. “Oh really? So better than sit you in front of a tv they just put you in the kitchen?” Shiloh asked with a smile wondering if that may have been a gender thing too… but she would rather believe her parents were good people than not. The last thing she needed was to bring up a dead parent’s bad side. “You know I was always an active kid growing up. I could never sit still. My parents put me in sports and ever since I did that my restless energy was just sapped. They couldn’t take a little kid just running around the house, I guess. Sent me outside.” She joked about her parent’s intentions although she recalled her cousin saying things about hyperactivity and being a hunter. It made the fact that she had been feeling drained even more worrisome. Before she would hardly ever stay in bed past 7am. Now she was getting close to sleeping in until the early evening and late afternoon.

Athena fiddled with her necklace this time, her fingertips twisting the small golden cross around and around. “In fairness, I like baking more than I like TV anyhow. Besides, it lets me have more control over how things turn out than watching a show does. You can’t decide what happens for that, but you can when it comes to baking.” She gave a small, half-shrug, dropping her hands from her necklace. It was true - she knew that even as a child, she’d needed to have some sort of control over everything around her - which was part of why everything that was going on now, while not incredibly large in the grand scheme of things, unnerved her so much. “I’ve done soccer practically since I could walk and then I started track in middle school and I did field hockey in high school, so I get you.” Her face scrunched up. It was reading too much into it, it had to be. “I’m lucky that my parents knew how to handle me, and also that they told my teachers that my concentration issues were due to me having a higher understanding of the material - which meant sometimes I could go to the gym if I finished my work early back in elementary school. Which meant a lot of trips there, because I finished my work early a lot.” She made her way over to the sink, giving her hands another quick rinse off.

Shiloh tilted her head as Athena went into detail about her childhood. It was interesting. The need for control, the fact that whenever she’d finish her work she’d go to the gym. “It sounds like you must’ve made your parents very proud.” While it was a little strange Athena did seem someone who was successful even in her youth. “I did horrible in school.” Shiloh added with a smile, knowing it was a complete opposite to what Athena’s experience was but her family never placed their affections on how well she did in school just that she was a good person. That’s what was important. “I suppose it was some sort of anxiety, which I received medication for it later in life but I just couldn’t focus. Every little thing, a sound, a smell, it was too distracting for me to pay attention. I used to get the worst migraines over it.” Shiloh’s brows furrowed as she recalled the difficulties she had growing up. Her parents were always supportive of their daughter but it didn’t mean they had all the answers. “It got better when I joined sports. Which is around the time I started to take medication and things were easier to just… turn off. Like I didn’t have to listen to every sound in the world - I can focus on what I needed to.” Shiloh ended it with a shrug. “Plus girls proved to be something I found my attention easily centered on, so.”

“Well, they did say I was their golden child!” Athena shrugged, her hair falling over her shoulders. “Sorry, too much enthusiasm.” Maybe, in another life, she would have been that way - over-enthusiastic in the most genuine of ways. Not falsely put on - though she could be enthusiastic about certain topics, so much of it was to keep up her family’s image - and sometimes she found that she still didn’t really know where her parents’ image for her stopped and whoever she - Athena Joan Quinn - was began. But that was far too much to think about in the middle of baking and accidentally coming out to someone all in one. “Everyone’s different, I guess?” She shrugged, though her lips did purse to the side at the mention of focus - of smell - and she knew that Shiloh wasn’t a werewolf and though Athena was aware of other species who had heightened senses but she also knew that she did - her whole family did, and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. “This is gonna sound, like, super weird,” but I don’t care, “did your lack of focus ever pick up more around certain people - I mean, like - other than thinking about other girls. I - well, I think I did that too. Maybe. Not that,” she felt her cheeks flush, “I mean, not my point - did you ever feel restless or like your skin was crawling?” Was this too much to ask? Probably, but now that she was out with it, she wasn’t about to dial it back. She didn’t do that - much like she didn’t apologize, though at least that had started to change - just slightly - but backing down from something seemed useless, and if she had messed something up with all of this - well, then she could simply never talk to Shiloh again.

Shiloh had to stop what she was doing and listen because from what she was saying it felt… relatable. “Restless like you can’t relax?” Shiloh tried to think about it when she was growing up and she recalled feeling it once when her parents and her went hiking and she woke up in the middle of the night in the tent and started bawling her eyes out and wanted to go home. But that was it. She didn’t feel it again until… she moved here. She looked up at Athena and met her eyes - that probably said it all. “I haven’t really not been restless since I moved here. I thought it was just my medication…” She trailed out as she inhaled deeply. “But it was something else.” Did Athena know what it was? Did she seem like a complete idiot and Athena had no clue what she was talking about? She could only wait and see how she responded to all this and in that moment Shiloh didn’t know how to feel.

“Sort of, yes.” Athena nodded. If they were getting somewhere, she didn’t want to back away from it now. She didn’t especially want to think of all the times when she’d been little and even though she’d know what she was for as long as she could remember, being surrounded by the feeling of wanting to crawl out of her own skin when she was just trying to concentrate on schoolwork had never been something fun. Even if it was for a better purpose, in the long run. “It’s probably not your medication.” She remembered - from ages ago - Shiloh mentioning that she was adopted, which could explain the lack of knowledge on many fronts. “Sometimes, even after living here my whole life, I still feel extra restless.” Especially lately. “It wasn’t your medication.” She reaffirmed, repeating herself. “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, straight up. “Do you know what it was?” Baking briefly forgotten, she shifted to look up at Shiloh. “I - well, based on all you’re saying, I might have an idea, but you can trust me. You can tell me.”

Shiloh chewed on the inside of her lip. She hadn’t told anyone this yet and the fact was she wanted to tell someone so bad. Shiloh never really had problems trusting others but she had been told to be wary to tell others supernatural things but maybe since this was concerning herself she didn’t have to be so secretive. She just worried Athena would hate her if she found out. “Uh, I found out about my parent’s past. What they were. What… I guess that makes me.” Come on, just out with it. She looked up at Athena, realizing she was worried about getting judged by someone younger than her - not that her opinion didn’t matter but… Athena was young and hopefully more open-minded. But how was she to start everything? Should she explain the supernatural? “My parents were something called hunters. They were killed by things they hunted and… I was taken in by two loving people. But I’m not… normal. That’s what my cousin told me. He was like them. Like me.”

She watched Shiloh carefully - though she’d always been one for action (too much waiting around made her feel antsy, even still - no matter how steady-handed she had the ability to be), Athena also knew that she excelled at observing others. That just simple observation could tell a great deal about someone, regardless of whether or not they were supernatural or not. Her parents had always believed that was the best way to exploit someone’s weaknesses. Watch and then act. Athena knew that she’d leaned more into the act side of it all. Perhaps that was part of why her father had wanted her to watch his surgeries so much. Patience does us good too, Athena. She could hear his voice just as she looked right over at Shiloh. Her fingers found her ring - a reminder of one of her moments of failure, but also a reminder of why she had to keep to keep going - and they fiddled with it, waiting to see what Shiloh was going to say. Even though she was practically positive she knew what she was going to say. She offered a small, genuine smile to Shiloh. And there it was. Hunters. She kept her expression neutral for a moment, waiting to see if Shiloh had more to say. Cousin. Followed by a reminder that she’d been adopted - by perhaps two humans, which would explain why Shiloh had been so confused about her lack of focus. About how she’d had struggles in school, and for a moment Athena frowned. These people had been unaware of Shiloh’s gift. “It’s okay.” She let a smile cross her face again. “I know I was right about there being something about you.” Another nod. “I’m one too.” She moved her hand to rest against Shiloh’s arm. “This means that you are extraordinary, you know that? Also, if you need help, I’m always happy to offer tips and tricks. First one. Don’t just go telling everyone about that.”

Athena was smiling. Why was she smiling? Shiloh felt on the verge of throwing up at knowing this - how could anyone be happy to hear this. Wait - did she hear her right? “You’re a hunter?” Shiloh asked just to make sure she had heard her correctly. Maybe this was why she was smiling. This 100% was why she was smiling. She took Athena in with that knowledge. This girl had had suspicions about her and she was a hunter. Did she even want to be friends or was she just trying to find something out. But she wanted to be friends now, right? Athena had always been nice to her, so it couldn’t have been a lie. “I-I don’t know.” She said as she shook her head. “My cousin tried to teach me - did teach me something so I can protect myself but when I killed -” She closed her eyes realizing that Athena had no idea what had conspired between her and her cousin. “I killed something. Someone.” It was someone. Someone was that thing. It wasn’t a thing at all. “I don’t know if I can do it again.” I don’t want to. Shiloh didn’t realize tears were coming down her face until a drop fell on her hand. She immediately started wiping her eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been… a lot lately.” It was all overwhelming. She was nine years old again and crying because everyone and everything was too loud. “But thank you… for not hating me.”

“Yes.” Athena replied - there was no need to dance around it now. They were both hunters and she felt incredibly relieved. Even if Shiloh was stammering and seemed less sure of herself than usual. Not that Athena really had much of a usual to base things from, given that she didn’t know the woman all too well, but she liked to think of herself as naturally gifted in reading people (at least as much as she could be), and whatever was going on now was different than at the carnival, even when Athena had actually spiked Shiloh’s slushie with silver just to see if she reacted. Something, not someone. It’s no longer someone, once you’ve done away with them, and even if it is, what does it matter? Except that Shiloh was new to all of this and that meant that overwhelming her with more information was probably not the best choice for right now. “It’s a learning curve.” She couldn’t remember if she’d cried the first time she’d killed something - which had happened before she and her brother started their proper hunting. Couldn’t remember if she’d cried when watching her father’s operations, but she didn’t think she had. Even at age six, she’d watched with intense fascination, committing everything that he did to memory, just in case he asked about it after. “Don’t - you don’t have to say sorry, Shiloh. It’s fine.” Wonderful, sacred, beautiful, even. “I wouldn’t hate you for that, never.”

Shiloh swallowed roughly and nodded as she regained composure. It was a relief to know there was someone out there whose first reaction wasn’t rage - not that she had experienced that - yet. But she feared her loved ones’ rejections. Evelyn. Skylar. Sniffling, she felt okay to talk now. “I have a lot of questions,” Shiloh started. Even with her cousin she asked far more questions than even he had answers for. A lot of her questions would probably forever remain unanswered. “But, the first thing I wanna ask is--can we bake these maple scones first because I’m starting to get hungry.” She let out a soft chuckle hoping that the redirection would turn the conversation back to a positive note. And normal. “I’m just not ready to talk about hunter things right now, but thank you so much for giving me a chance to.” Shiloh appreciated that tremendously and right now she was forever thankful of Athena and hoped the two of them could have a good friendship in the future.

#wickedswriting #c shiloh #chatzy #chosen #parent death tw #abuse tw #internalized homophobia tw #// alyssa is a gem #this chatzy was :---)#v interesting #but v much just two normal folks baking

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

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Spotless

Prompt: "I baked." "Really? All I see is destruction." -- @challengingwords challenge

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 523

As soon as he opened the door, a heavenly aroma greeted him before you did. The smell was too sweet, infiltrating his senses and urging him to source what was so delicious that made his stomach grumble in anticipation.

After placing down his belongings, Jinyoung moved into the apartment, eyes peeled for what would await him in the kitchen.

You turned upon hearing his arrival, grinning at him happily. “Hey baby!”

“Wow,” was all he mustered as he took in the kitchen and you let out a satisfied giggle.

“That’s the response I was hoping for after all my efforts today.”

Shaking his head, Jinyoung gestured to the state of the room. “What’s all this?”

You frowned, glancing down at the cake you were frosting and then back up at him. “I baked.”

“Really? All I see is destruction,” he stated, taking in a deep breath. Sure, the aroma was killing him and the baked goods on the countertops looked as delicious as they smelt.

But his kitchen hadn’t looked this messy ever.

Cracked eggshells were laying on the surface next to the mixing bowl, assorted ingredients littered everywhere else. There was a stack of unwashed dishes in the sink and flour dusted everything it touched.

Including you.

Jinyoung groaned. “Don’t you know how to clean as you go?”

“I was initially but then I was so focused on creating the best apple and blueberry muffins that I got distracted. I was so inspired by how everything was smelling and coming together that I decided to just work around the mess and clean up later.”

Of course, that was your logic. You were focused on the end result, not the steps that it took to get there. He smiled at you, though you were wary of it entirely. Now huffing irritably, you turned to the mess behind you, picking things up out of the sink loudly and clattering them down on the bench. Jinyoung cringed, reaching out for one of the muffins you had exclaimed over.

“No, you’re not allowed any!” you protested just as Jinyoung took the first mouthful. His eyes grew wide with surprise and you stopped whining, watching his expression avidly. Soon you were grinning. “Is it really good?”

“Wow, these are the best thing you’ve ever made!”

“I knew you would agree with me!”

Jinyoung nodded, taking another bite. “They taste divine.”

“Oh I’m so pleased!” and then you turned to the cake you had finished frosting, cutting Jinyoung a piece. Soon, he had been handed something from every pile and you were satisfied with all his positive exclamations.

“You know what else I’m eager for?” he offered when you were done feeding him and you looked at him curiously. “My kitchen to be clean.”

“After all I just fed you, you couldn’t even wait a single moment more to point it out again!” You pouted and smacked the cookie out of his hand with annoyance. “Nope, no more! You can’t eat a single thing until this kitchen is spotless. And with the mood I’m in now, it might take me all night to be done with it too!”

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#cwchallenges #kwritersworldnet #got7creators #got7 #park jinyoung drabbles #jinyoung drabbles #park jinyoung fluff #jinyoung fluff #kpop drabbles #got7 au #park jinyoung au

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wkemeup · 5 years

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The Witness (8)

series summary: After witnessing a Hydra hit and the handsome, borderline endearing cop who had become a regular at your bar takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

pairing: detective!bucky x reader

word count: 7.5k

warnings: fluffy sweet goodness and then everything goes to shit im so sorry, descriptions of violence

author’s note: hold onto that fluff its gonna be a bumpy ride

series masterlist // previous chapter

You awoke the next morning to soft snoring; low, gentle vibrations in each exhale. Blinking open your eyes, you found Bucky fast asleep next to you, the yellow light seeping in through the crack in the curtain softly illuminating the muscles on his back. His hands were tucked under the pillow as he laid on his stomach, facing you.

A smile pressed at the corners of your mouth as you watched him scrunch his nose in his sleep. You curled up on your side, pulling the blankets up further to cover yourself against the chill of the room. Steadily, you reached out to him, letting your fingertips trace gentle patterns along the freckles in his back.

You could feel the hardened muscles underneath, flexing as you dragged your finger along. You sighed contently as you attempted to memorize the sweet look on his face as he slept, the only moment you’d ever seen him with his guard completely down. In those moments, an innocence came back to him he didn’t have in the daytime.

Your finger passed over the nape of his neck as you continued drawing lazy patterns against him and he shivered. Slowly, he opened his eyes, careful to avoid the harsh influx of light. When blue eyes came into focus, a hazy smile spread on his lips. You let your hand trace down his arm before you brought it to curl against your chest.

“’Morning,” Bucky murmured, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“’Morning,” you replied, biting on your lip as you shivered at his touch.

Bucky let his hand come down to the mattress and he turned himself onto his side, the sheets bunching at his waist. He scooted a little closer to you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I like waking up to you,” he mumbled against your hairline, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin. Your hand snaked to the back of his neck to pull him to your lips, but he resisted, chuckling sweetly. “Might need to brush my teeth first, sweetheart.”

“Don’t care,” you muttered as you pressed your lips to his before he could protest. He gave in easy; smiling against you as he kissed you back. It was so natural to touch him like this, to hold him and be held; it was like a second instinct or a piece of yourself you had been missing for a lifetime, so tangible that you could it feel beneath your hands. You could feel his hand cup at your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone and you leaned further into the touch of him.

Your fingers played with the hairs along the nape of his neck as he turned onto his back, pulling your weight on top of him. You giggled against his lips, kissing him sweetly one last time before you pulled back.

“I like waking up to you, too,” you grinned up at him, pressing forward again to kiss him chastely before settling on his chest.

“Careful,” Bucky chuckled and you reveled in the feel of the vibration against your bare chest. His hand wrapped at your waist, holding you tight against him. “If you spoil me too much, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

You propped yourself up, chin resting on your hands upon his shoulder. “Who says I want to?”

***

When you finally dragged yourself out of bed, Bucky offered the shower to you while he scampered off to the kitchen. When you were finished, you threw on one of his longer t-shirts that fell down to the mid of your thighs and a pair of clean underwear. Scrunching the ends of your hair with the dry sections of the towel, you pushed open the bathroom door back to the bedroom and a waft of blueberry pancakes and bacon filled your senses.

You beamed, almost giddy, as you hung up the towel on the hook and pranced down to the kitchen. Bucky was standing over the stove top, his back to you as he hummed quietly to himself, flipping the sizzling bacon in the pan. You folded your arms, leaning against the wall as you watched him.

Navy sweatpants, emblemed with ‘NYPD’ running down the thigh in bold yellow letters, hung low on his waist. His chest was bare, showing off old scars on his back and the purple and blue discoloration on his chest. He pulled the last piece of bacon from the frying pan and set it on the paper towel next to the stove. He brushed his hands on his sweatpants and turned off the knob before he spun around to carry the bacon to the table.

He froze as he spotted you watching him with a grin upon your face. He laughed, setting the bacon down amongst the stacks of pancakes, syrup, and freshly brewed coffee. He even had the cup of sugar and exact brand of mocha creamer Sam always stole from Nat sitting by your mug. Bucky took his black, but he always seemed to notice the small things.

“How long have you been there?” he asked, pulling out the chair for you.

You laughed, skipping over to the table and pressing a kiss to his cheek before you sat down. “Not too long. Seems like your senses are a little clouded this morning, Detective.”

Bucky shook his head, biting on his lip to hold back his grin unsuccessfully. He sat down at the seat adjacent to yours and reached out to place two pancakes on your plate. He handed you the syrup before you asked.

“Wonder what could have possibly caused that?” he remarked teasingly, stealing a glance at you as he took a bite of bacon. “Certainly can’t be what we did last night.”

“Definitely not,” you agreed, your smile so wide it began to hurt your cheeks.

Bucky paused, staring at you a little too long as you began cutting your pancakes. You raised an eyebrow at him, taking a bite and moaning at how delicious it was. He chuckled softly.

“You look gorgeous by the way,” Bucky eyes trailed over you before he took a sip from his coffee. You raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the oversize faded t-shirt and the few strands of semi-dried, borderline frizzy hair that had fallen into your face. You narrowed your eyes on him quizzically and he shrugged casually, taking another sip from the steaming coffee.

“I like how you look in my clothes,” Bucky added, a grin curving on his lips though he didn’t look over at you. “Reminds me that I know what’s underneath.”

You feigned offense and shoved his shoulder enough for him to drop his bite of bacon into his lap. He chuckled, shaking his head, and you worked on committing the sound to memory.

A half hour later and you and Bucky had devoured everything on the table. Plates stacked upon one another and pans left unwashed in the sink for the time being. Two cups of coffee in, you brought out your book to read as Bucky typed away at his laptop, stealing glances over at once another every few minutes.

It was peaceful. Domestic, almost. Like you were living in Bucky’s apartment for a reason other than the impending possibility of Hydra discovering your identity. You had relocated to the couch as Bucky cleaned up the dishes from breakfast, insisting he was happy to do it and urged you to continue reading. Bucky’s quiet humming as his hands slipped under the running water, pressing soapy bubbles against the dirty plates, nearly lulled you to sleep.

When he was finished, he brought the laptop over to the living room for the first time since you’d been staying with him. You smiled up at him as he gestured for you to lift your feet and he settled in beside you, resting the laptop on the arm of the couch as he brought your legs down to sit in his lap. As he scrolled through the computerized files, his free hand ran soothingly along your shin, stopping every once in a while to massage at your calf.

For a while, as you glanced up at him from the top of your book, you forgot why you were staying with Bucky in the first place.

***

Several hours later, Bucky had agreed to take a break and watch the first few episodes of The Office with you once you’d learned he’d never seen it before. It took a bit of convincing to get past the first episode but he caved when you promised it only got better from there. There was a subtle implication that you’d be willing to sit there and watch the entire series with him, no matter how long it took, and it was possible he only gave in because he knew it would keep you around a bit longer, maybe even after the chaos settled down.

Four episodes in, you were curled up against his side, his arm draped over your shoulders as you held a warm up of tea to your chest. Bucky was talking at the tv again, as he usually did, begging Michael Scott to not do whatever cringe-worthy antic he was about get wrapped up in next, when a loud knock came from the front door.

Heads whipping to face the door, you set the mug on the coffee table as Bucky began to stand. You quickly shut the TV off, your hands noticeably trembling. The knocking pounded out again and Bucky reached for the drawer by the couch. He slipped his hand inside and slowly pulled out a small handgun you hadn’t realized he kept stored there.

“Go to the bedroom,” he urged, whispering quiet enough as to not alert whoever was on the other side of the door. You swallowed, eyes glancing nervously towards the knocking. Bucky’s hand grabbed yours, squeezing once, before he tugged you towards the bedroom. He kissed your forehead. “Go.”

You nodded quickly, snapping out of your trance. You were only a few steps away from the bedroom door when a voice shouted out, “Open the goddamn door, Barnes! We gotta talk!”

Sam.

You exhaled in relief as Bucky groaned loudly, shoving the handgun back in the drawer and sending you an apologetic look. As he jogged to the front door to let his partner in, you scurried off to the bedroom to put on some shorts, realizing you were still without pants and not exactly presentable for guests. You could hear the pounding continue, even as Bucky undid the locks.

Sam pushed his way inside, grumbling under his breath, as you emerged from the bedroom. “Do you ever answer your phone? Jesus Christ, Barnes.”

Bucky scratched the back of his head nervously and you paced over towards them. You handed Bucky a light grey t-shirt. He took it, nodding in appreciation as a light flush rose in his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was still shirtless when he answered the door.

Sam glanced between the two of you, raising an eyebrow and clearly having put the pieces together. There were too many careful looks between you and Bucky, the proximity of your stance, the very clear lack of clothing, and the subtle mess in Bucky’s hair he usually kept so perfectly coifed. Sam was just on the verge of what was likely to be some sort of sass filled remark that would get Bucky’s eyes rolling when Peter scrambled in through the front door and drew away his attention.

“Sorry, I was parking the car,” Peter panted, hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. He looked to Sam. “You tell them yet?”

“I’m getting to it, punk,” Sam gritted through his teeth. He turned to face Bucky, face scolding like a parent. “Where’s your damn phone?”

“I saw it on the nightstand this morning,” you offered, folding your arms over your chest.

“Figures,” Sam grumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Don’t need your phone if you’ve got the one person with you you’d need it for, right?”

Bucky looked over to you for support and you only shrugged. He nodded apprehensively, though judging by the irritable look on Sam’s face, you should have figured he was setting Bucky up for a trap.

“Wrong, you friggin’ idiot!” he bellowed, throwing his arms in the air as he started to pace back and forth. He jabbed his pointer fingers at Bucky’s chest. “You need to be available to us in case we need you! In case we have vital new information!”

“I already updated the team that my informant didn’t give me shit last night, what else do you need?” Bucky argued back, shoving Sam away from him.

You looked between the two of them as they continued going back and forth, but you found your eyes settling on Peter as he swayed in his stance nervously. He met your eye for only a moment before they darted down to the floor and his hands started to fiddle anxiously at one another. It appeared Bucky wasn’t the only cop with a knack for taking on misplaced blame. You were about to walk over to him when a lull in the argument passed and a brief silence took over.

“Look, I’m not here to argue with you, Buck.”

“Then why are you here?” Bucky grunted, folding his arms over his chest.

Sam glanced over at you apologetically before a sort of sadness and regret washed over his features in a way you never expected to see in him. Nerves began to fire in your stomach.

“There’s a mole in the precinct,” Sam admitted with a heavy sigh and your heart plummeted. The weight of your pendent increasingly heavy on your chest. Bucky’s shoulders slumped, any trace of his frustration with Sam melting away instantly. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “We can’t be certain that whoever it was has leaked Y/n’s identity to Hydra yet, but three of our officers got ambushed on what was supposed to be a clean op last night. They're all in critical condition. That couldn’t have happened unless there was a mole feeding Hydra intel.”

“Fucking hell,” Bucky cursed, raking his hands through his hair and you stepped closer to him on instinct. His hand grasped yours as you looked up at him. His jaw muscle visibly clenched. “What do we do?”

“Cap’s preparing a place in Jersey,” Sam said, glancing at you sheepishly before returning back to face Bucky. “There’s no indication that Hydra knows about Y/n yet, so we’re just taking precautions. Nat’s on her way now with the car to take you to the safe house. Steve will meet you there with supplies. We’re ahead of this right now, but we gotta move.”

Bucky nodded, running his free hand over his mouth anxiously and you squeezed the hand intertwined in yours. His eyes met yours and he attempted a reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“My bet’s on Ward,” Sam grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. “Slimy little bastard. I saw him eyeing the file I wrote up after Rumlow paid a visit to Y/n last week before I could pass it on to Stark. Never trusted that guy.”

“I can’t believe there’s a mole,” Bucky gaped, shaking his head in disbelief. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“We had to know at some level,” Sam countered, his voice even, almost reassuring. “We kept Y/n’s identity as the witness limited to six people when we could have had the whole precinct looking into it. It would have been more efficient, more eyes and ears searching for leads, but we kept it quiet. We knew; a part of us did, anyway.”

Bucky nodded, a heavy exhale in his chest. He turned to you. “Why don’t you get your things together? I’ll run over the details with Sam.”

He squeezed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the knuckles, not bothering to care when Sam began to smirk to himself.

“You mind helping me out, Pete?” you asked softly, letting go of Bucky’s hand. Peter’s head snapped up, like he was shocked to hear his own name. He bit on his lip, looking around for another Peter in the room because you certainly couldn’t be talking to him. You gave him a smile in hopes to ease his obvious anxiety.

“Go on,” Sam nudged, stepping behind Peter and physically pushing him lightly in your direction. Peter stumbled a bit as he moved towards you, stealing a quick glance in your direction before his eyes fell to the floorboards again.

As you walked to the bedroom with Peter in tow, Sam and Bucky pulled out the chairs at the table and their voices carried down the hall. You gestured for Peter to follow you into the bedroom and you jogged over to your suitcase sitting in the corner. Peter quickly raced ahead of you and grabbed it, hulling it up to lay it on the bed.

“Thanks, kid.”

“What can I do to help?” Peter asked nervously, scratching at the nape of his neck, eyes darting around the room.

“I have some conditioner and toiletries in the bathroom if you want to grab those? Might as well grab Bucky’s too,” you said with a heavy sigh, realizing there wasn’t a chance Bucky would stay behind. You glanced back at the dresser filled with Bucky’s things and by the time you turned back, Peter was already gone.

You took the opportunity to change into street clothes; throwing on a pair of jeans and a basic t-shirt. Then, you gathered your clothes from the hamper and shoved them all in your suitcase, figuring you’d just wash them when you got to the safe house. You already had so little with you; you couldn’t afford to leave these behind.

Pulling out a few of Bucky’s drawers, you grabbed some of his necessities, the clothes worn in color he wore most often, and the navy bomber he wore the first night he came into your bar looking for a drink. It managed to make his eyes stand out more than they already did and you had grown quite fond of it. Then, you laid out a spare pair of jeans and a red Henley he’d worn a handful of times on the bed.

Peter emerged from the bathroom with a pile of overflowing bottles in his arms and your razor fell to the ground before he could dump them into the suitcase. You bent down to retrieve it but Peter was too fast for you, again, and grabbed it before you could, mumbling an apology under his breath as he nearly swiped it straight from your grasp in the effort. He tossed it onto the pile.

“Is there, uh, anything else?”

You watched him carefully as he chewed on the dry skin of his lip, hands tucked into his pockets. Peter was a nervous kid at baseline, always looking for something to do and help out the people down at the station he so clearly admired, but this was a new level, this was different.

“You okay there, Pete?” you asked slowly, reaching out and setting your hand on his arm.

He nodded, though he kept glancing at the door. He let out an exasperated sigh. “I think Detective Barnes hates me.”

You frowned, your heart breaking for the kid. “He doesn’t hate you, Peter.”

“But I left,” he countered, a lingering ache in his voice. “He told me never to leave unless someone came to relieve me and I left anyway. I left you alone and then that Hydra guy came in and-”

“Peter, stop,” you urged, hands squeezing his shoulders. “You had to go out on that call. You know you did. Bucky does, too. No one could have possibly known Rumlow would chose that night of all nights to walk into my bar.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I- I know. I'm just glad you’re alright and you don’t, uh, seem to hate me, either.”

You smiled, leaning forward to hug him. It took him a moment but he returned the embrace, hesitant arms setting very slightly against your back. When you pulled back, Peter was able to meet your eye, though it didn’t last very long. It was more back to his baseline, anyway, so you’d take it. He helped you close the suitcase and wheeled it out to the living room.

Following closely behind, you came to find Bucky and Sam still sitting at the kitchen table talking quietly to one another, though from the cadence in their voices, it sounded tense.

“Hey guys,” you called, alerting them to your presence as Peter set the suitcase by the front door. Sam gave you a tight-lipped smile while Bucky glanced over his shoulder in your direction. He let out a heavy exhale and muttered something to Sam you couldn’t quite hear.

You slipped on your sandals as Bucky stood from the table. He paced over to you and kissed your forehead casually before he half jogged down to the bedroom to change.

Sam leaned back in his chair, arms folding over his chest as a cocky grin started to slowly tug at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t even trying to hold it back. You shook your head, finding his smile contagious as always.

“Don’t even say a word,” you warned, half a laugh escaping you despite the circumstances at hand. How you managed to stumble into this group of people who found a way to ease every last worry you could possibly encounter was beyond you. You’d say it was luck, but with Hydra on your back, you figured maybe not.

As you shrugged on your jacket, you heard Bucky’s footsteps approaching from the bedroom, having changed into the clothes you laid out for him. He smiled appreciatively at you as he bent over to slip his sneakers on.

A loud buzzing came from the phone sitting on the table by Sam, startling you somewhat, as he reached to grab it.

“Nat’s here,” Sam informed, eyes settling on Bucky and suddenly it felt real.

Bucky nodded, his hand snaking down to yours and squeezing it lightly. “Did you grab your book?”

He asked as though you were going on a vacation, like your life wasn’t in imminent danger from an informant in the one-four. You nod, glancing back at the living room couch. He must have already grabbed his laptop.

“She’ll be in the black sedan out front,” Sam said as he made his way to the door. “Parker and I will be ahead of you in my impala. You know what it looks like, Barnes.”

With a nod from Bucky, Sam and Peter made their way to the door. Sam stopped to pick up your suitcase on the way out and then, you were alone. You found yourself staring at the opened door, the anxious feeling building again in your chest, making it hard to breathe. A tight squeeze in your hand and it started to alleviate before it even began. Blue eyes watching you carefully with an aurora of concern and you forced out a smile.

“You ready, doll?”

You shrug. “Ready as I’ll ever be to go to some police safe house to escape Hydra retaliation.”

Bucky smiled softly at your attempt to lighten the mood, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He lifted your intertwined hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles. He started walking towards the door and gently guided you along with him.

“It’ll be nice,” he offered. “It’s a pretty secluded cabin surrounded by forest. There’s a lake not too far from it as well. It won’t be like a concrete prison, I promise. We can pretend it’s a vacation. Play house a little more.”

You passed through the frame of his apartment door and found a genuine smile on your face, even as you turned to take one last look back into his home he was willingly leaving behind for you. A pressure in your palm again and Bucky was urging you on. You reached out and closed the door behind you.

It was busier on the streets than you would have thought for it being so early. Pedestrians bustled along the sidewalks, heads down, shoulders hunched as they hurried to their destination; some even appearing to talk to themselves through the small microphone in their earbuds.

You felt Bucky’s hand pull you carefully as he led you down the stairs towards the street. True to Sam’s word, Natasha was leaning against a black car, arms crossed as she eyed those walking by suspiciously.

When she spotted you, she pushed herself off of the car and crossed the sidewalk to you, not bothering to wait for a break in the stream of bypassers as they naturally moved out of her way. She had that kind of energy about her. She had wrapped her arms around your shoulders before you knew what was happening. Bucky released your hand and you returned the embrace, closing your eyes and reveling in the floral smell of her hair conditioner.

It had been a long time since you had any real friends outside of the off handed comments with your patrons down at the bar and though your friendships with the members of the one-four were only glimpses into each other lives, you felt like you had known them for years. Perhaps, it’s easier to form bonds when there’s a constant threat on your life. Some kind of evolutionary survival instinct.

Nat released you and stepped back, her warm smile sitting subtly on her lips. She turned to Bucky, giving him a slight nod before she jogged back down to the car and swung around to the driver’s seat. Bucky jumped ahead of you to open the door and allowed you to slide in before he closed it behind you, hastily making his way around to the other side of the car.

It smelled like leather and cleaning products, faintly of bleach. As Buck sat down next to you, closing the door behind him, you found yourself subconsciously leaning closer to him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and you let your forearm rest on his thigh. A soft kiss to the crown of your head, his breath warm against your hair, and Natasha switched on the ignition.

She pulled out into the busy traffic and you looked out the dashboard, watching for the impala Sam had mentioned. Sure enough, it pulled out of a parking lot just before Natasha could pass it, settling in the space one car ahead of you.

You were stuck in traffic for a while; the tedious condition of living in one of the busiest cities in the world. Having left your phones behind at the apartment to avoid a potential trace, you began picking at your nails to bide the time. It was a bad habit you hadn’t done in years. After some time, Bucky’s hand wrapped over yours, a silent plea to relax. You nod and close your eyes as you lean back against his shoulder. His fingers began tracing delicate patterns along your arm.

What felt like an hour later, but was likely only twenty minutes, you had made it out of the stand-still traffic. Still within the city limits, but moving at a steady enough pace that it didn’t feel like you were crawling. You glanced up at the rearview mirror, curious when you noticed Nat’s eyes flickering up at it every few seconds. Green eyes narrowing as she did, before she’d turn back to the dashboard. You could feel Bucky tense against you.

“What’s going on?” you asked carefully, glancing between the two of them.

“We’ve got a tail,” Nat replied flatly, not bothering to hide it from you. You appreciated her for that. She was never one to lie to you, or anyone, just to ease anxiety. Especially in times when it really mattered. She reached for the walkie attached to the right side of the dash, hiking the cord over to her as she clicked on the transmission. “Wilson. You there?”

A few moments, a steady static. Then, “yeah, I’m here.”

Nat’s eyes darted up at the rearview mirror again before she shook her head, gripping the walkie’s receiver. “We’ve got company. Black SUV. Highlander. Two cars behind me.”

You moved to look out the back window yourself when you felt Bucky’s hand on your shoulder. You raised any eyebrow and he shook his head. The concern in his face was enough for you to sit back without any questions.

“I got him,” Sam replied, voice muffled by the radio. “I’m gonna try and shake him. Think you can keep up, Romanoff?”

Nat snickered under her breath. Leave it to Sam to help bring back a sense of normalcy in even the worst of situations. “Don’t challenge me, Wilson.”

Sam’s impala took a right hand turn at the traffic light ahead. Nat followed behind, her eyes flickering up at the review mirror to watch for the SUV. You studied her carefully and when she gritted her teeth you knew the SUV had followed. The impala took a left, Nat close behind, and still, the SUV was on your tail.

“He’s right behind me,” Nat said into the walkie. She was watching the mirror more than the road.

“Well, let’s pick this up then,” Sam’s voice came through and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. You could only imagine the look of panic Peter was sending his way from the passenger seat.

Then, the impala took a sharp right turn, disappearing down a narrow one-way street. Nat followed quickly behind, the tires screeching at the effort. Her stare met Bucky’s in the rearview mirror and you could see the panic hidden behind the green of her eyes – and Natasha was not one to panic. You didn’t have to look to know the SUV had followed. You’d been made.

Nat reached over at the glove compartment, popping open the lever and grabbed the handgun stored inside. You looked over to find Bucky pulling his weapon from the holster he had strapped to his hip. It was odd to see him handling a gun while in his civilian clothes, without the shiny gold badge drawing attention. Frankly, it was jarring to think of him as someone who could be deadly, who could take a life, since you’d only known him as the quick witted, flirty, pain in your ass down at the bar and as the soft, gentle, loving, and guilt-stricken man you grew to love.

“Be ready for a fight,” Nat said into the walkie, though her eyes flickered back at Bucky. “They’re not going to let us leave the city without-”

A thunderous BOOM and suddenly the impala was in the air, its front tire colliding against an explosive that sent it spiraling upward in the blast of red and orange flames.

It all happened in slow motion. The cars around it skidding out of the way, screeching tires piecing in your ringing ears. The impala crashing down on the pavement on its roof, the glass shattering the windows. Natasha hulling the car to a stop, breaking sudden enough to twist the car on a right angel to the road in an effort to avoid crashing into Sam and Peter.

Oh God-

You were scrambling for your seatbelt, desperate to get to them, but Bucky gripped your forearm so tightly you winced at the pain of it.

“Don’t move,” he ordered harshly, harder than you’d ever heard his voice. “Don’t leave this car for anything. Do you understand?”

Your eyes were drawn up to the side view mirror as you watched men clad in black clothing step out of the SUV; three on the left, four on the right. They were all draped in semi-automatic rifles. At the front, directing the three men towards the impala, and leading the remaining three was Brock Rumlow.

“Do you understand?” Bucky demanded again, shaking you from your trance. You tore your eyes away from the men in the mirror approaching the car to find Bucky staring frantically at you, blue eyes rapidly scanning your face for recognition. His breaths were coming in heavy.

You nod quickly and the first echo of gunfire broke through the sound of the flames burning at the engine of the impala and the horn blaring from the impact. You yelped and Bucky’s arms instinctively dove to cover your head. He shoved you down to the floor of the car, his body on top of yours.

“Listen to me,” he urged. “Listen! This car is bulletproof. They can’t hurt you as long as you’re in here. Don’t fucking move, Y/n. I’ll be back for you.”

Bucky hulled himself off of you and panic coursed through your veins. You jolted upright and Bucky shoved you back down.

“What about you? You can't go out there!” you shouted over the rain of gunfire. You glanced up at the driver’s seat to find Natasha was already gone, out amongst the gunmen. Bucky parted his lips but nothing came out. Something caught his eye out the window and he winced at whatever he saw. He started moving closer to the door. He reached behind him and unlatched it. Blue eyes met yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place as his mouthed ‘I love you.’

Then, he was gone.

Alone in the car, you curled up against the floor, hands shaking as they clamped down on your ears. Dings of metal and the splitting of glass cracking in conjunction with the sound of the bullets firing from automatic guns were deafening inside the car. You looked up to see indents from the bullets lining the walls of the door and small metal pieces stuck in web shaped circles amongst the glass. Bucky had said it was bulletproof, but God-- it looked like it would shatter at any minute.

You tried not to imagine what was happening outside of the safety of the car or who was taking on the gunfire. You tried to erase the vivid images burning behind your eyelids of the four people tasked with protecting you falling down to the pavement, one by one, as a bullet tore straight through them. Nothing could push it from your mind. Not even when you wrapped your hand tight around your necklace, desperate for the protection your father claimed it would give you. The edges dug at your palms enough to hurt.

What felt like hours later, a lull came over. Arms trembling underneath you as you pushed yourself up from the floor, you dared to peak out into the road.

You spotted Sam first by the impala. Blood dripped down from his forehead and he was moving with a heavy limp on his right side. He was dragging something from the car behind him, shouting words you couldn’t quite hear through the muffled chaos. You leaned closer, squinting your eyes. Then, all at once, it came into view.

Peter.

He was dragging Peter’s body along the pavement, a line of blood following in his wake. You couldn’t tell if he had been shot or if it was the explosion that did it, but as Sam dragged him around the dead body of one of the Hydra hitmen, a wash of relief came over you when you saw Peter wincing at the movement. His eyes were open. He was talking, clutching at his leg and some sort of jagged shard embedded in his thigh as Sam dragged him up to the sidewalk, shouting at some pedestrians hiding in the coffeeshop, gesturing down to Peter.

Slowly, two women emerged from inside, grabbing Peter by the arms and hulling him into the shop, away from the fire. Sam nodded to himself, wiping the blood from his brow before he turned back to the road. He yanked his pistol from his hip, walking with what appeared to be a heavy, painful limp. You followed his line of sight to where he was heading, turning to find Nat and Bucky standing with their backs to you, facing down Rumlow and two of his remaining agents. Two more bodies were scattered along the road, blood seeping through their clothes and eyes cast over, gone.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be!” Rumlow called, his voice still muffled by the doors of the car but clearer than Sam’s had been. “You’ve already killed three of my men and it looks like that kid you mascaraed as an officer won’t be far behind. No one else has to die today, Barnes. Well, except for the girl.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth!” Bucky bellowed, readjusting his stance as he continued holding his weapon aimed at Rumlow. Natasha was on his right, doing the same, as Sam slowly pulled up on his left.

Rumlow smirked. “Sensitive subject, I see. Look, I don’t have all day to chit-chat, so either handover the whore or I��m gonna take her from you and I don’t think you’ll like what happens when I do.”

Not even a second to wait for a reaction, Bucky began firing his weapon, letting out a scream that tore right through you. A series of metal plates extended from some sort of contraption on Rumlow’s forearm, forming a shield that blocked every bullet.

In the chaos, Nat charged forward at the Hydra hitman ahead of her, firing one warning shot before she climbed up on his shoulders, using his knee and hip for leverage, and swung him down until he hit the pavement, hard. She stood and fired a single shot at the man’s kneecap and he rolled over to his side screaming in pain.

Sam had meanwhile been jumped by the remaining Hydra agent, struggling against him as the man wrestled him down to the asphalt, his gun several feet away. You heart skipped as the man pulled out a knife, swinging it at Sam's face with full force before Sam was able to block it with his forearm, the blade disappearing into his muscle. Before the Hydra agent could process what was happening, Sam yanked the knife out of him and proceeded to jab it into the man’s neck, blood spurting out the side as it poured down his chest and onto Sam. He shoved the man off with a grunt, leaving him to bleed out.

“Enough!” Bucky shouted, firing another shot at Rumlow, who ducked it easily. “You’re out numbered, Rumlow! It’s over!”

Rumlow lowered his shield, a pause of defeat upon his face for only a moment before his lips curved up into a wicked grin. That same kind of smirk that made your stomach twist into painful knots when you had met him in your bar.

“Not quite,” Rumlow shrugged. “I’m afraid you miscounted the men.”

The car door behind you unlatched and a violent grip on your ankle yanked you out of the car and down into the street. You looked up to find a man hovering above you, the barrel of a gun aimed at your forehead as he grinned, yellowed teeth bared as his eyes roamed down your body.

“Gotcha,” he spat, his grip snaking up to your collar and wrenching you to your feet. His forearm came down hard against your windpipe as he wrapped his arm around your neck, the warm metal of the gun pressed painfully against your temple. Your hands grasped at his arm, nails digging into the skin and drawing blood, as he dragged you out from behind the car into the open road.

Rumlow nodded towards you and Bucky turned around slowly. His shoulders slumped, lips parting, as a wave of desolation came over him for a moment as he met your eye. Then, just as quick, his features hardened, jaw twitching, as he spun back to Rumlow.

“Let her go, you fucking asshole!” he barked, his hands shaking as he emphasized each word with a subtle jab of his gun.

Rumlow smiled, tsking his tongue. “You take one shot at me and my guy will blow her brains out. You know she’s better off dead to me than alive. But I’m keeping her breathing, for now, so be nice, Barnes.”

Bucky froze, eyes darting back to you. You clenched your jaw, hands gripping at the man’s arm as you struggled to find your breath. Nat and Sam were both staring at you. Nat’s weapon aimed at the man’s head while Sam, gun lost in the chaos, stood helpless but to watch. You balanced on the tops of your toes to give yourself reprieve to the crushing of your windpipe.

“Now,” Rumlow called, “drop your fucking guns and get down on your knees.”

Nat exchanged a glance with Bucky before he nodded ever so slightly, the energy draining from him in an instant. Slowly, all three of them raised their hands in surrender, lowering to the pavement. Bucky and Nat slid their guns several feet out of reach.

“Excellent,” Rumlow grinned, making his way over to collect the guns. He shoved Nat’s weapon into the band of his pants before he bent over to pick up Bucky’s handgun. He wiped his hand along it, admiring it as he examined the exterior. He raised it, a subtle nod almost in appreciation, before he clicked back the safety and fired a single shot at Sam.

You screamed out as Sam was forced onto his back by the momentum of the hit, clutching at his shoulder as blood oozed out between his fingers. He was groaning, rolling on his back in an effort to relieve the pain. Bucky’s arms were outstretched on the pavement, like he was about to crawl in Sam’s direction when Rumlow fired another shot, this time at Natasha.

Too panicked from the shock of it, you didn’t have time to react before she was curled up on her side, hands pressed to her thigh as red soaked through the blue of her jeans. You hadn’t even registered Bucky screaming until you looked over at him, his face red, seething, as he slammed his fists against the asphalt.

“Enough, Rumlow!” he howled, voice cracking in the effort, rough from use. His eyes darted between Sam and Nat, before they returned to the source of his anger. “Enough! This has nothing to do with them! Leave ‘em out of it!”

“Fine,” Rumlow snipped casually and paced up with steady intent until he stood just a few feet from Bucky. Then, he raised the barrel of the gun to Bucky’s head.

“No!” you screeched, choked back by the man behind you as he pressed down on your windpipe to silence you. You kicked at his shins, digging your nails in his arm, adrenaline pounding through your veins, but it did nothing to loosen his grip.

Bucky’s eyes met you, panic coursing through them, though he eased his hand lower to the ground, begging you to stop. You narrowed your eyes, confused, as you started to still. Bucky nodded at you, offering you the semblance of a smile when you stopped fighting.

“Oh, that's interesting,” Rumlow commented with a smug inflection, glancing between Bucky kneeling on the pavement next to him and you restricted in his lackey’s arms. He kept his stare on you as he pressed the barrel of the gun to Bucky’s temple, pushing it enough to make Bucky lean to the side. He studied your reaction as you visibly winced, you jaw clenching enough to bit down on your cheek, pooling blood in your mouth in an attempt to restrain yourself as Bucky asked. Bucky had his eyes close, his hand trembling as he gripped at his knee.

That same, sickening grin curved at Rumlow’s lips as his eyes narrowed on you, pleased with your reaction. You dared to meet his eye, only find an emptiness and a rage burning within them that set a harrowing ache in your stomach. He winked.

“Get her out of here,” Rumlow ordered, but before the man could begin dragging you down the street to the SUV, Rumlow licked at his lips, pausing. He crouched down beside Bucky, grabbed him tightly by the jaw to force him to look right at him.

“We’re bringing the cop with us.”

A hard hit to the side of your head.

Darkness.

part nine .

tags 😈@sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @lumar014 / @alohafromhell1 / @bucksandroses / @teardropcup / @beautiful-aravis / @me-chi / @somewereinthegalaxi / @marvelfansworld / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @yourwonderbelle / @fairislesheets / @brokeinflight / @verygraphicink / @lollipopdomination / @emotionallysalty / @forsaken-letters / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @ashlieadelia / @kasimagines / @ladymelissastark/ @panic-naran / @pinkisokay / @jsmith509 / @hennessy0274-blog / @littlemsrantsalot / @bucky-rrogers

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #reader insert #my writing #bucky fic #the witness

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butididntpourthewhiskeys · 5 years

Text

9 Nights of Lover(s)

Only 9 more nights until Lover. Here are 9 nights of two Lover(s). I hope you guys enjoy my silly, little countdown xx

Taylor’s eyes wander over the zucchinis and cucumbers that are precisely presented in the vegetable section. She still has to quietly smile to herself, how the zucchinis are labeled as “courgettes”. Just a small reminder that no matter how homey she feels in this city - it’s still the other side of the pond. With her hair in a messy bun and the shopping cart hung over her arm, she grabs for a pack of zucchini, then places them in the cart. The supermarket is not as crowded as the last time they came. Only a few people shopping for food in the grocery department on the ground floor. She and Joe always make sure to pick a good time of the day and week to do their grocery shopping. It’s not a must do, but instead something she loves about living with him in London: It’s been years since she last did her food shopping herself. But with Joe, in this city, it seems possible. A sense of normalcy that this city and Joe have brought into her life, that she never dreamed of having. Taylor strolls through the vegetable and fruit section, as the tall blonde man suddenly comes to a stop right in front of her. With his black jean jacket she loves so much, he just smiles at her quietly and places a few packs of berries in the cart over her arm.

“Hey, do we need..”

“Open up” he answers, as she realizes what he’s doing. With an opened pack of blueberries he stands right in front of her and eats some himself.

“Oh my god, this is so… rude. You can get salmonella from unwashed foods.” She hisses quietly, doesn’t want the entire supermarket to become part of this convo. She can’t believe him sometimes, has to swallow down an embarrassed laugh. In most life situations he’s the most grown up man she’s ever been with. Yet when it comes to a simple evening of food shopping, he manages to act like a five year old.

“You won’t get salmonella from eating a berry, love.” He answers her with a grin on his face. Taylor just shakes her head, signals him that he needs to put the pack of berries into the basket on her arm. Right now. But instead, Joe just eats another handful again.

“Joe!”

He starts laughing. She cannot believe him.

“Stop it.”

“Try one, they’re amazing.”

“We haven’t paid them yet.”

“I will pay these overpriced blueberries in like five minutes. Can you relax, babe?”

Taylor just shakes her head, tries to swallow down the smirk on her lips. He still notices though, as she walks past him and pretends to continue her grocery shopping apart from him.

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“It’s like you’re my child.” She hisses, presses her lips together in order to not laugh and grabs a bunch of asparagus in front of her.

“Wanna try this banana I got?”

Taylor just hits him in the side and walks away, pretending to run away from him. Joe just smirks and follows her to the frozen foods section. Taylor turns around and he can see the smirk on her face.

“If you open up this banana, I swear to you Joe, …oh my god.” She whispers, pretending to be mad while looking at him opening the banana in front of her eyes and the eyes of the other Marks & Spencer customers. Joe laughs, takes a bite and then holds the banana in front of her face.

“Take a bite, baby. Be bold. Come on.” He jokes quietly, looks into her eyes. She looks like she wants to kill him yet she’s fighting with herself. For one, she really is incredibly hungry and also, she has learned to let loose and be more rebellious since she’s with him. Rebellious, as in not wearing make- up when going on a Sunday stroll or taking the tube from Kentish Town to Tufnell Park. He’s had a great influence. With both of his childish and mature sides, he’s had a great influence on her happiness. Taylor shakes her head, her eyes looking more than mad and she slowly takes a bite from the banana he held in front of her face. Joe laughs quietly, then leans in and kisses her forehead over her bangs.

“So inappropriate to eat a banana in the fish section. You little rebel…”

_________________________________________

Joe leans against the big bedpost of their bedroom, a big sigh escaping his mouth. In his sleeping shirt, teeth brushed and ready for bed, he sits there, just stared at the big tv screen hung upon the wall on the other side of the room. The big grey blanket over his legs, the woman of his life right next to him, mindlessly having her head on his chest and the remote control in her hand. Joe sighs again, his hand still casually on her back, and under her shirt, where the tips of his fingers were drawing circles before. Slowly, he’s getting annoyed.

“What about this one? We’ve seen the first episode, remember?”

“Mhm, I don’t know.” She mumbles. Her cheek mindlessly pressed into his chest, she looks at the screen.

“Darling, can we please just decide on something.” He says, starts to feel his patience fade. This time Taylor sighs as well, still flips through every single suggestion on Netflix.

“It’s hard to decide, because what I like, you probably won’t like..”

“I don’t care what we watch, just choose something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” He breathes out annoyingly, tries to take it with humor and sinks his head slowly to kiss hers. “Crazy woman” he mumbles under his kiss and Taylor doesn’t even notice, just suddenly squeaks excitedly. It seems that she has found something she wants to see. Finally.

Joe’s hand slowly continues to caress the naked skin on her back under her shirt. Taylor slowly sits up and looks at him, doesn’t shove his hand away.

“I read about this movie. It’s about a child murderer who lived in Ohio in the 90s and..”

“Great, put it on.”

“I’m just worried that I’ll be scared after.”

“I sleep right next to you, Tay.”

“Okay, good. You wanted it.” She says, puts the movie on but remains sitting upright. The movie starts, Joe’s hand still on her back while the other reaches for his bedside lamp. He turns it off, the tv now the only light in the bedroom. Taylor suddenly leans forward, awkwardly sitting in bed but having her head sunken.

“What are you doing?”

“Itchy” she says and he smiles. For some reason, she absolutely loves it when he scratches her back. Joe carefully scratches her, always making sure he’s not too rough. The movie starts but Taylor is more than distracted.

“More right…. left. Can you go down…yeah right there.” She mumbles into her shirt because that’s how much she’s sunken her head. Joe slowly laughs, but continuous scratching her.

“You’re a true monkey. Do you know that?”

“Psssst. I’m listening to the movie.” She mumbles, while Joe’s hand is still busy on her back. Joe smirks. After a few seconds, Taylor sits up again, slowly leans in to press a kiss onto his lips and then cuddles into his chest. Joe smiles at the toothpaste taste of her kiss, makes sure the blanket is over her and then gets comfortable in bed as well. He starts to focus on the movie. It takes less than three minutes and he can hear her snoring. He slowly looks down and realizes that she’s asleep. Of course. Taking half an hour to choose a film and then falling asleep within the first five minutes. Sounds a lot like his girlfriend. Joe carefully reaches for the remote control in her hand and turns off the tv. Time to sleep.

_________________________________________

“What are you doing?” He asks, a bag of crisps in his hand as he walks up to Taylor who just comfortably sits on the couch with her laptop. She is tired and drunk as much as he is, after this long night out with his friends. It’s been a great night for the both of them. He loves evenings with her and his best friends. Her deliciously cooked dinner, deep conversations about life and scrabble. He loves seeing her interact with his friends, loves how close she’s become to them. This is something he has not experienced with girlfriends before her. Joe looks at her. The red lipstick on her lips half faded, and the leather jacket she was wearing before is on the floor. She’s home. And tired. He can feel that. Joe slowly knees down in front of her, holds the bag of crisps right in front of her face. She just shakes her head, seems to be distracted from whatever she sees on her laptop.

“It’s 3 in the morning. What are you doing on there?”

“I’m on amazon.”

“Leave the site, love. Right now. Not again.”

Taylor just laughs whole heartedly and looks at him. Joe also grins amusedly but pretends to be in shock.

“No, I swear, this time it’s not the alcohol. I really need this sheabutter. And they even have a bundle price..”

“Show me.” he says, already reaches for her MacBook. Taylor just rolls her eyes but laughs drunkenly and hands him the laptop. Joe places the bag of crisps on her lap while being busy looking at her shopping cart.

“Love, can you tell me why you just bought 5 pounds of unrefined organic Shea butter for three-hundred pounds.”

Taylor in the meantime has just gotten up and waddles into the kitchen barefeet, clearly unimpressed by his question.

“Because I needed it.”

“As much as you needed the Chinese knife set you bought last time you were drunk.”

He hears her giggle from the kitchen, can see her head that has disappeared in some kitchen cabinet. She’s on her heels, trying to reach something that’s buried in the cupboard.

“It’s a great knife set.” she answers, places a porcelain bowl in front of her and fills it with cereal.

Joe still looks through her shopping cart and starts laughing. He slowly takes out his phone and takes a photo of her MacBook screen. Just in this moment, Taylor makes her way to the couch again, immediately yells a “stop it” towards her boyfriend’s direction and tries to steal his phone. He manages to win, shoves away his iPhone from her hands. She just sits down next to him, a cereal bowl in her hand, pretending to be mad.

“Baby!”

“No.”

“I’m just capturing memories. This is a great memory. Ten thousand tampons. You bought a pack of ten thousand tampons.”

Taylor doesn’t react, just grumpily eats her cereal. She doesn’t look at him, a mixture of alcohol and tiredness clearly bringing her mood down.

“You can provide every woman in Hampstead and North Finchley with these tampons. Nose bleeding included.”

She suddenly looks at him and laughs. She hates that he wins once more, but his unexpected humor just makes her laugh.

“You’re mean to me.” She mumbles and Joe slowly sighs, a grin still on his face. He slowly closes her laptop, opens his arms and hugs her entire torso. She lets out a grumpy noise, mouth full from eating her late night cereal. Joe kisses her cheek a few times, then casually opens his mouth. Taylor shoves a spoon full of cereal with oat milk into his mouth. Joe chews, then presses another kiss onto her cheek. Time to get some sleep.

_________________________________________

“Yeah and then I have a meeting at 5pm on Wednesday, but I should be done around 6 or 7 and we can totally come over after that.” she says, her cozy shorts and house slippers on, while making her way downstairs. Right when she was about to past the bedroom, she comes to a stand, quietly peaks into the room. Taylor can’t help but smile, suddenly forgets to listen to Joe’s sister-in-law on the other end of the line. Without noticing her at all, Joe just stands in front of the bed, absentmindedly folding his underwear. She can’t help but smile even more at him. He looks so incredibly cute. His boxers, his huge grey sweater that she loves most while slowly folding her underwear. The fact that Joe is the proud owner of two left hands doesn’t make the view less amusing. She appreciates his efforts. He came home early this morning from Asia, visibly tired and exhausted from his past weeks. Yet he makes an effort to do her laundry.

“Jen, can I call you back in five? Yeah..okay, bye.” She slowly makes her way to him, as the tired blonde guy suddenly looks up at her. Standing in front of their bed, she just hugs his neck tight and presses a big kiss onto his mouth. He smiles, still incredibly tired. She has to laugh. He looks too cute with his hair undone and his small eyes. He really needs to go to bed soon.

“You’re sexy when you fold my panties.” She whispers. He laughs.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it.” He laughs. Taylor smiles at him.

“You should go to bed, babe. Your eyes are tiny.” She says, stroking his cheek with her hands.

Joe forms a kiss with his lips again and signals her that he needs her once more. Taylor laughs and presses another kiss onto his lips.

“Love you.”

_________________________________________

Joe comes back from the bathroom, slowly checks his phone at the end of the room. 4.21 am. He yawns. Jetlag is by far the worst. He slowly makes his way back to bed again, can’t help but laugh quietly at the view in front of him. Taylor lies in her side, rolled into her big blanket like a burrito. Only her tiny head is peaking out while her entire body has disappeared under the big blanket. He slowly lays down next to her again, on his side, making sure his face touches hers. His arm lands on the big blanket surrounding her and his lips land on her head. He can feel her stirring, suddenly notices that her eyes are open.

“Are you okay” she caws, her voice filled with sleep. Joe smiles, immediately kisses her forehead again, since this part of her entire body is the only part that’s not wrapped in the big warm blanket. He breathes out, keeps his lips on her head.

“Baby.”

“Mhm.”

“Can I wrap you up like a burrito and then unwrap you quickly down the stairs.”

Taylor suddenly looks at him, starts to laugh.

“What?!”

“I don’t know, it’s just something I have to think of whenever you burrito up in bed.”

Taylor laughs, then turns around while he faces her back.

“No you cannot do that.”

“Why?” He asks, has to laugh now as well.

“Because I’m not Donald Duck.”

Joe puddles as well now, then slowly closes his eyes again.

“That’s sad.” He answers. Taylor just laughs and closes her eyes again.

“You’re so weird, you can only be my boyfriend.” She mumbles half asleep. Joe smiles too, whispers a last “I love you too” before falling back asleep as well.

_________________________________________

Taylor opens the oven, carefully grabs the hot tray and places it on top of the stove. The kitchen is lit up with the small lamp in the corner of the marble cupboard. The bright lights from the living room shine into the kitchen. She can hear her mother laugh, while Robert talks about a weird interaction he had last week. Taylor slowly takes off the big oven gloves and places them next to the burning hot chicken roast she just took out ofout of the oven. Taylor slowly makes her way back into the living room, places one hand on Joe’s shoulder who sits around the table with her mother and her boyfriend. Joe places the glass of water he was just nipping on back on the table and looks at his girlfriend.

“Can you get some plates? I’m gonna get another bottle of wine.” She says and Joe gets up, still listening to Robert’s story about how a journalist approached him last week, thinking he was Ariana Grande’s tour manager. In sweatpants and a shirt, he slowly walks into the kitchen, was just about to grab four plates from the cupboard as he suddenly sees the deliciously looking roast right in front of him. He contemplates for a few seconds, then grabs a fork and slowly picks at a small piece of zucchini to try the dinner his girlfriend just made. In just that second, Taylor enters the kitchen again and Joe realizes that, in fact, the food she made is still boiling hot. He looks at Taylor and his eyes get big - not because he feels trapped, but because he realizes that he is about to burn his mouth big time. Half panicking, half laughing he waves towards his mouth. Taylor can’t help but laugh, slowly place the bottle of wine next to him on the kitchen counter.

“This is what you get when you try food before our guests.” She says, laughing a bit. Joe still fights with the burning hot food in his mouth.

“M’ go’ die” he brings out.

Taylor just breathes out a sympathetic “oh baby” and then turns around to face him. His eyes are all red. It seems that the combination of spicy and hot isn’t the best one. Within two seconds, she gets an empty glass from the cupboard and grabs the cold milk from the fridge.

“Drink this, babe.” She says, offers him the glass of milk. Joe slowly swallows the food, then takes a big sip from the ice cold milk. He lets out a big sigh, covers his mouth with his hand.

“Are you okay?” She asks him, casually places her hand on his stubbly cheek.

“Yeah” he sighs and Taylor can’t help but laugh. His eyes are red and teary. She would love to say ‘this is what karma does’, but instead swallows this thought down and gets on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Poor baby.” She just mumbles. “But you never learn.” She adds.

Joe just chuckles.

“That’s why I have you. To help me survive.”

_________________________________________

Joe stirs, realizes that the spot next to him in bed is empty. After opening his eyes once, he just closes them again, hearing the flush coming from the bathroom right next to their bedroom. It takes less than a minute and he can hear Taylor waddle back to bed in the dark, barefoot and wearing nothing but a thong and his shirt. Right before she falls back onto the bed he hears a hit, and her moan.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

Joe can’t help but smirk in his sleep.

Every. Damn. Time.

“Again?”

“We need a night lamp.” She mumbles in pain. Joe slowly turns on the lights, looks at his girlfriend who sits on the side of the bed and holds her toes that she just hit in pain, while sitting on the side of the bed.

“Give it to me.”

“What?”

“The toe.” Taylor can’t help but laugh quietly in pain, falls onto her back in bed, stretching out her long legs before rolling onto his side. Joe grabs the foot that hurts and kisses it a few times. She can’t help but giggle loudly. So loud, that even Benjamin looks up and slowly walks to the bed. Taylor can’t help but laugh loudly, especially when Joe makes a grimace.

“I love kissing cold feet.”

“I know you do.” She says sarcastically. Joe carefully lets go off her foot, makes sure to wrap his girlfriend in the blanket again.

“Are you good?” He asks, hugs her sideways. As so often, his lips against her bangs. Taylor closes her eyes, pulls up the blanket until the chin and closes her eyes again. She slowly nods, enjoys smelling him.

“You mean my footy?”

“Your footy?” He asks with a chuckle. “I mean cause you were in the bathroom for so long.”

Taylor sighs.

“My vagina hurts. I’m on my period.”

Joe laughs at her syntax. He also appreciates that they established this openness, that she knows that she can talk to him about whatever bothers her. That nothing needs to be embarrassing. Nothing.

“I’m sorry, love. Want an Advil? Or a tea?” He asks quietly, looks at his girlfriend who’s still wrapped up in the blanket until under her chin.

“No, I just took one. I just need some sleep. And a hug maybe.” She adds. Joe laughs, slowly turns around to turn off the little lamp on his side of the bed. It’s dark again in the room and Joe lays down in bed next to his girlfriend. His arm wanders around her torso, as he turns around and onto his back. Offering her to use his chest as a pillow.

“Good?”

“Good.”

_________________________________________

“Okay. Yes. So on the fourteenth, we’re going to have the meeting at 2pm. Yes, I noted that. But what did he say about….oh okay. Okay, that works.” Joe slowly walks into the bedroom. She sits in bed with her laptop, headphones on her ears, cats next to her, tv on silent, make up free, stressed face. He knows it’s been a lot of traveling back and forth these past days. He feels like he didn’t have a proper conversation with her since she came back. All she does is schedule phone meetings, flights and organize things for the upcoming weeks. He would never get upset about that. After all, he knows how stressful album phases are, and he wants her to focus fully on that. However, he wishes he could help her. She seems so stressed, overwhelmed. He can see that by the look on her face.

Joe sits down on the side of the bed, carefully patting Benjamin. After a few seconds, Taylor hangs up, immediately continues typing on her macbook. She doesn’t even react, doesn’t even talk to Joe. He can just feel the level of stress radiate from her, doesn’t say anything. Slowly, he takes out his phone from his pocket.

“Just.. give me a minute..” she mumbles distracted, is well aware that she hasn’t even said hello to Joe just yet.

Joe doesn’t answer, is busy on his phone as well now. He then waits a few seconds, looks at her face to see her reaction. She just stares into her email account, suddenly realized that she’s got an email from Joe.

What do you want for dinner?

Taylor turns her head and laughs at him.

“Are we really doing this?” She laughs. Joe is happy that he could make her smile, even if just for a second.

“I discovered that emails are the best way to reach you these days.” He laughs. Taylor just rolls her eyes and starts typing again.

Chinese, please. Love you.

Joe laughs, slowly gets up and leaves the bedroom with Benjamin on his arm.

Taylor keeps working on an email, which includes her interview answers. Just when she was about to send it out to Tree, she sees that she has a notification in the corner of the screen. She can’t help but smile beneath her stressed frown.

Love you, too. Bath time later?

_________________________________________

Joe sighs, washes his hands while staring into the mirror right over the sink. He hates this. He hates fighting with her over the most ridiculous thing. A photo with his friend. His co-star. A female. Joe sighs, slowly enters the bedroom again. Just in that second, Taylor drops his phone on the bed. He looks at her confused, and she looks at him - trapped.

Joe just stands there, looks at her make up free, anxious face. He can’t believe it. He can’t believe the level of mistrust she just showed him.

“Did you just go through my phone to make sure I’m not hiding stuff from you?”

“I didn’t go through your phone.”

“Oh really, why did you drop it all panicky then?”

Taylor just sighs, crosses her arms. She looks angry. Mad, to say the least.

“Well, if you didn’t give me enough reason to not trust you I wouldn’t have to…”

“What reason, Taylor? What reason?” He suddenly says, his voice raised. She has never experienced him like this. Joe is usually the calm one of the two. But this time, he looks at her mad and angry. She notices herself getting worried, subconsciously asks herself if she’s gone too far this time.

“The reason is you getting a drink with this person behind my..”

“This person is a lesbian friend of mine, who happened to work with me in Virginia on that exact weekend.” He interrupts her. “Taylor, I…” He just looks at her worried, sad, having many questions written on his face.

“What?!” She hisses, her arms still crossed, just staring through him.

“Where does this come from?” He asks, tries to calm himself down a little and sits down on the bed next to her.

“Where.. why would you ever think that you can’t trust me? You know I love you and you know I would never look at any other women. I’m… I’m shocked.”

Taylor doesn’t react, looks down on the blanket she’s wrapped in. The silence right now will kill her.

“What’s the real problem here?” He then asks, doesn’t seem to let go of this. She doesn’t know what to say, just sighs and looks the other way. She still seems mad but she has no arguments anymore. He can feel that.

“The real problem is you hanging out with other girls. You didn’t do that when we started dating. You didn’t do that when we weren’t casual with each other. But now this thing has turned into a long-term relationship and you’re bored. And you start meeting other..”

“Wanna know what the real problem is?” He says with a raised voice, way louder than she just was. “The real problem is you not being able to process the fact that there’s someone who actually wants to stay with you.”

Silence. Taylor doesn’t move, doesn’t look at him. She hates how right he is. She hates how he doesn’t see through her but instead, stops to acknowledge what really is inside of her. Fear. Fear of losing. Him. Her mother. Herself.

“This time around, you don’t have to beg the person to stay. This time around the person actually wants to stay. And Tay, I’m not cheating on you, I’m not looking at other girls, I’m not bored. I’m just.. I’m here being your partner.” He says, way softer than before. Taylor still doesn’t move, then closes her eyes slowly. She’s emotional. He knows that.

“I know people you love… have left you before. I know you’re scared. But I’m not. I’m not scared and I’m not leaving.” He says, feels a bit more emotional now as well. Especially in the moment he realizes that she’s crying. That tears run down her face. Her face that is still turned away from him.

“And I just hope you can trust me without feeling like you have to control me. Cause you don’t have to.” He adds.

Taylor then slowly looks at him. She’s crying. She doesn’t say anything cause he has just said it all. She slowly crawls closer to him and hugs him closely. It’s her apologize. He knows that. Joe tightens the hug and breathes her in. She’s still crying into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” She then bawls beneath her tears. Joe just caresses her back and head while holding her close.

“It’s okay. I know. Just know you can hold onto me. Don’t play this game against me. Let me help you.”

Taylor slowly lets go, her face red and wet from the tears. Her bangs sticky against her lashes. She nods, wipes away the tears from her cheek.

“I’m trying.” She says, then gets silent again.

That’s all he needed to hear.

It’s enough.

#joe alwyn #joe and taylor fanfiction #taylor swift #taylor swift fanfiction #joe and taylor #fanfiction #fanfic

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dontreadthistrashgarbage · 5 years

Text

Pt.3

Seyoon was unpacking all the late night snacks he had gotten onto a blanket at a secluded rooftop. Hearing footsteps he looked up to see Guerin, who looked different than usual. She didn't appear to be wearing any makeup, had her normal stud earrings but had a cute black mask with a white sharp toothy grin. She was dressed in joggers and a sweatshirt with the hood up. He cocked his head at her as she approached.

"I know, I look like shit. But it was late and I'd already gotten ready for bed. You can't expect me to spruce up after that." Guerin guessed at his expression.

"You look fine. Cozy. It's just different. Also you're late." He shrugged and patted the blanket next to him, sitting as he leaned against the wall behind him.

"I got lost..." she grumbled, "I've never been great with directions." She sat down in the spot he indicated, looking over the spread he had brought, "Good grief I thought you just wanted tteokbokki."

Seyoon smiled automatically, "You said you hadn't eaten, and I know how much you like food so I thought I should get some options." Guerin leaned her head in his direction and offered a wry smile under her mask, unable to argue with his logic. "Besides, I got this for us too." He pulled out an additional bag, from which he drew two paper cups, a bottle of soju and two cans of beer.

Guerin raised her eyebrows and sat up straight, "Oh we're drinking too?"

"We have to. It goes well with tteokbokki, fried chicken and jajangmyeon." He shrugged nonchalantly as he began opening everything up and handing Guerin some chopsticks. "Although it's blueberry soju. I thought you might like that."

"How did you figure that?" She asked, sneaking a piece of tteokbokki and pulling her mask to her chin to eat it.

"Well you said before you liked Grapefruit and Plum but I couldnt find it, so I thought blueberry was the next best option." Seyoon shrugged, separating the cups and pouring soju into them, handing one to Guerin and offering his as cheers.

She laughed in response and took her shot, "Honestly I dont know how that train of thought lines up but you aren't wrong." She watched as Seyoon refilled the cups and couldn't keep the grin from her face, "You really went all out for this, it's awesome. Thank you."

He shrugged again, looking up at her and their eyes met briefly before both looked away to select food options, "Food makes things better." He said simply.

"Cheers to that." They both took another shot and then ate in silence for a while.

"So... how are you?" Seyoon asked awkwardly, unsure of how to broach the subject.

"I'm fine, all things considered." Guerin said almost mechanically, "I keep telling people that."

"Okay... but how are you really?" Seyoon asked again, leaning back to look at Guerin. She sighed and set her chopsticks down and didn't speak for a moment.

"Well. What do you know happened?" She asked finally.

"I know you were attacked by that crazy lady. I know you were arrested but you were cleared because of video evidence. I know that she is being charged by the company. But I also know you haven't been with HEET lately." He trailed off.

Guerin reached over for one of the beers. Seyoon cracked it open and put it in her hand, grabbing his as well while she took a sip, leaned back against the wall and looked up at the sky.

"Yeah. We were worried something might happen again. So part of our plan included recording any more altercations that might occur. Self defense laws are tricky and it's usually one person's word against another. Plus as a foreigner, and a big one, we knew some witnesses might not provide unbiased information." She paused and took another sip, "The boys were so brave, they did exactly as they were supposed to. That woman had some gross stuff in that present too. Police said it was unwashed underwear, a vial of blood, another of spit..." she scrunched her nose, "stuff like that."

"Sounds like you guys have the law on your side." Seyoon said, waiting for more information.

Another sip and pause before she spoke, "Yeah, we do. We're able to press charges. The company is suing her. She might see jail time. They even made me go to the hospital to make sure they had a medical report for the court."

"Wait medical report?" Seyoon looked over at her, surprised, "What happened?" Now that she had pulled down her mask and he was looking closely he saw the cut and slight bruising at the corner of her mouth as she smiled dryly and tapped her cheek.

"I let her hit me. I figured if she looked unharmed and I was injured it would go better for us too."

"You're crazy." He sounded almost admiring as he leaned in closer, "Let me see that, does it hurt?"

"It's fine, I've been hit in the face many times, and she's probably the smallest adult that's ever taken a swing at me. It doesnt hurt at all. OW WHY?" She flinched and cried out as he poked the bruising.

His eyes widened and he let out a snort of laughter, "Doesn't hurt at all?"

"You little shit." She laughed and smacked his hand away from her face, "Of course it'll hurt if you press a bruise."

He giggled again, "Sorry. It does look like it hurts a lot. You should maybe stop letting people hit you in the face."

She laughed, "Well it hasn't always been a choice, this one was though."

"So... there's more right?" He asked after their laughter had subsided.

Guerin avoided his eyes by taking a longer drink from her beer, "Yeah. There's been some blowback. Some false stories have gotten out and theres some people that claim I'm making a bad name for HEET or that I was the one who started it, that I instigated a fight or was being rude to a fan. There's quite a lot that demanded I be removed as manager, actually."

"So they caved?" Seyoon asked disbelievingly.

"Well. Kind of?" Guerin sighed, "I've been temporarily removed. Right now with the case going and the false information it's actually less safe for HEET to be around me in case someone tries to target me. So until things are officially able to be released..." she stopped talking abruptly blinking rapidly, trying to hide it with another long gulp of beer. "It's not like I've been fired. I'm grateful for that. Another company would probably have written me off as more trouble than I'm worth. They have me doing other work right now but... I liked my job. I loved my boys, and looking after them." She couldnt hide the tears running down her face now, and didn't bother to try.

Seyoon floundered, watching her face then looking around before seeing napkins and hurriedly handing them to her. She smiled and thanked him, dabbing her cheeks half heartedly before giving up and chugging the rest of her beer through her tears. With an unconvincing smile she looked at Seyoon, "So that's what I mean when I say all things considered. I'm fine."

He didn't saying anything right away, pulling his long shirt sleeve over his hand, he leaned over and dabbed at her face to dry it. She started to pull away, shocked, but he reached out with his other hand and held her in place. "Hold still." She didn't fight back, he was so close and so handsome she couldn't help but feel somewhat transfixed, despite her stomache dropping and heart pounding, all she could do was freeze until he let her go. He picked up his chopsticks, selected a large piece of fried chicken and put it to her mouth, which she accepted without complaint.

"It's okay to be sad when bad things happen. You don't have to lie to everyone." He paused and added quietly as though he wasn't sure he should be saying it, "You don't have to lie to me."

Guerin choked, "Oh my god." She swallowed as soon as she could and laughed, "Are you using lines on me to seem cool? Is this a drama?" She laughed again.

"Yah." He protested, "I was just trying to be supportive."

Guerin laughed again then fed him some tteokbokki, "You're as adorable as a cicada." She said and pinched his cheek.

"I am so much more handsome than some bug." He protested around the food in his mouth.

"Of course you are." She put a shot of soju in his hand, cheersed and downed hers. He followed shortly.

"Thanks though." She glanced at him, "It means a lot."

He playfully shoved her and stole her chopsticks, which started a whole new bickering fit.

Charlie had been working up the nerve all morning to talk to her boss. It was a privilege to be allowed to be so hands on with animals and she didn't want her boss to think she was taking advantage... but it was such a cool opportunity. She had to at least try.

"Byun Minsoo-ssi." She lead off tentatively. The lead vet looked up from her paperwork. Perhaps she looked stern simply from Charlie's point of view but it was just as believable that she was no-nonsense in everyday life as well.

"Yes? Charlie-ssi?"

"I have a friend who is a manager for an idol group, she is friends with a group called A.C.E and I wondered if they could come behind the scenes to meet some of our animals?" Charlie ventured cautiously.

Minsoo paused for a moment before speaking "A.C.E? Your friend knows A.C.E? And they want to come here?" Her attempt to play it cool was poorly hidden and gave Charlie confidence.

"Yes! I'd like to invite my friend Guerin and A.C.E to come and see what we have. I think it would be an excellent opportunity to promote the zoo and educate on the importance of conservation!"

The normally serious Minsoo beamed at Charlie, "That's an excellent idea. Let's get in contact and organize something."

Charlie did a mental fist pump and hustled off to message her friends.

Deciding to keep the visit informal allowed the planning process to go more quickly. Approval from the higher ups and organizing with Beat Interactive took a few days. Guerin has been allowed to come as a personal guest for Charlie and A.C.E who requested she tag along. Guerin, never passing up a chance to visit the zoo, happily accepted. Charlie hoped it could provide her friend with a genuine mood boost. Guerin tended to internalize her negative emotions but Charlie could tell she wasn't her usual self.

"We'll do formal filming in the behind the scenes areas, but then we'll allow you to do your own self cam work throughout the areas of the zoo the public has regular access to." Minseok explained as A.C.E got last second touch ups.

"What animals are we seeing today?" Asked Chan excitedly. They were in the vet and quarantine areas so it was unpredictable what had been planned for them.

"It's a surprise." Charlie said, the most excited A.C.E had ever seen her.

Byun Minsoo would be taking the lead in speaking for the cameras but suggested Charlie stay by to help handle animals and manage the guests. Minsoo might be strict but she was fair, knowing Charlie wanted to do this with her friends she wasn't going to exclude her.

Guerin was hanging back with Minseok as preparations were made. "Noona do you know what we're gonna see?" Chan tried to wheedle from her, pouting slightly. Guerin stared pointedly away from him.

"Don't pull that cute stuff on me, I can't tell you." Of course she knew what animals Charlie was working with, she couldn't let some aegyo spoil the surprise. Chan pouted more and shook his shoulders in a small tantrum.

"Alright that's enough." Minseok stepped in before Guerin could cave, he redirected A.C.E to the main area so they could begin filming. The recording started with a tour of the facilities, showing equipment and how to accommodate all the different animals they had based on type and size. They explained the importance of training animals to participate in their own veterinary care voluntarily then showed them a video example of a mountain lion presenting for a blood draw, and a gorilla opening it's mouth for its teeth to be examined, or a macaque presenting its arm for an insulin injection. Minsoo continued to talk about the research and breeding that the zoo participated and how it was vital for conservation efforts and how it benefitted animals in the wild.

The boys were perfect guests, asking questions and reacting well. They saw a few animals in the quarantine area, new to the zoo and waiting to be introduced to their new homes. The last area they were taken to was for longer term housing for animals that couldnt be in the usual enclosures. A spot had been sectioned, layered with blankets, plushies and other toys. The boys, perplexed, were instructed to go in and sit down with Minsoo while Charlie disappeared momentarily. She returned with an inauspicious crate, facing it away from A.C.E she opened the door and sat with Minsoo, both grinning for the surprise.

Two young tiger cubs tottered they way out, mowing. The trepidation left A.C.E as they all exclaimed in amazement and adoration. Minsoo and Charlie showed A.C.E how to bottle feed them, then let them take turns.

"Their mother was a first time mom, and she wouldnt take care of them." Minsoo explained as the boys cooed sadly, "It's not unusual for that to happen with new mothers even in the wild. But since we are here we made the choice to step in and help raise them." Once the babies were fed they were left to roam and play. One clambered into Jun's lap and fell asleep, the other playing with a toy with Donghun and Byeongkwan. Jun couldn't control his face, his amazement and joy at being chosen as he got everyone's attention and pointed to the sleeping kitten. Seyoon and Chan scooted near him to pet the sleeping animal. Charlie couldn't stop herself from grinning, Guerin knew at least part of it was Jun's reaction and not just the cute tiger cubs.

Once it was time to say goodbye to the kittens, A.C.E did their formal goodbye with them and the filming for behind the scenes ended. The rest of the staff and guests got an opportunity to greet the tigers as well and once Guerin had her turn she flagged down Charlie as the babies were taken back to their enclosure. After a brief talk with Minsoo who let out a restrained laugh and nod, Charlie and Guerin went to a series of smaller tanks on the opposite side of the room, Guerin returning with her hands closed suspiciously.

"We have one more animal for you to meet." Charlie said with a chuckle. Donghun was the only one with the good sense to he suspicious.

"This is one of my favorite animals." Guerin said with a grin, uncovering her hand and showing a large male Madagascar Hissing Cockroach sitting placidly in her hand. All five boys instinctively recoiled, Chan and Jun exclaiming in surprise. A.C.E's reaction elicited chuckles from most of the staff if they werent busy being disgusted themselves.

"It's okay guys. They're harmless!" Guerin said holding it up. Donghun and Jun recovered the fastest, still looking apprehensive and surprised respectively. Chan was behind Jun, leaning around him curiously but still looking fearful. Beyongkwan, eyes wide, didnt move forward so quickly and Seyoon was the furthest away had a very subtle terror that could only be read in his eyes.

"They're really cool, they're called hissing cockroaches cause they hiss!" She gave the cockroach a light pet down it's back which caused it to take two steps forward and hiss quietly as it protested the contact. The boys jumped again. "So insects dont have lungs, they breath through small holes along their body called spiracles. These guys have evolved to force air out of those holes to make a hissing sound that they use to communicate to each other or even predators! Their mouths are too small to bite us so they're harmless!" She was so enthusiastic in the explanation it couldnt help but draw the boys curiosity. She explained how to tell males from females and how most cockroaches are pests at all and how vital they are to the environment. Eventually Donghun worked up the courage first to touch it when offered. Jun became somewhat enamored and greeted the insect before he touched it, but jumped when it hissed before laughing at his own reaction. Chan actually opted to hold it and Byeongkwan even moved forward but Seyoon stayed in the back.

"Come on Hyung!" Chan called to him, looking more closely at the cockroach.

"I'm just looking at stuff over here you guys go on without me." Seyoon said, pretending to examine equipment near him.

"It is kind of cute." Jun admitted, petting it again, still jumping slightly when it hissed.

"On a scale of Seyoon to a Cicada how cute is it?" Donghun joked causing Jun, Chan, Byeongkwan, Guerin and Charlie to laugh.

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ellanainthetardis · 6 years

Note

Prompt: post-mj Haymitch feels a little insecure about his body and Effie assure him that she thinks he's very attractive

I made it Games Time instead [ff]

Breakfast Time In The Penthouse

Effie pursed her lips, instinctively crossingher arms in front of her chest in a show of irritation. She wasn’t quite surprised, it had happened before after all, but she couldn’t say walking in thepenthouse’s living room to find Haymitch lying stark naked on the couch was herfavorite thing.

At least, not when she wasn’t the oneresponsible for his naked state.

Her eyes darted from the heap of clothes thathad been haphazardly tossed on the floor to the half empty bottle on the coffeetable – the fact that the bottle still held any alcohol at all meant he hadalready been wasted when he had come back. She studied him next, noted theabsence of telling marks on his body, the lack of used condoms around and shebreathed a small sigh of relief that she did her best to hide because she knewhe wasn’t asleep.

It wouldn’t have been cheating if he had beenwith another woman. They had never agreedit would be. But lately… She chased that thought away, filled it under impossibilities that shouldn’t beentertained. It was getting dangerously exclusive, this thing between them.And when it wasn’t… Well, neither of them brought other lovers back to thepenthouse. That too hadn’t been voiced explicitly but it was a common courtesygiven that they shared the place. Still, it bothered her. The idea that hecould have been with someone else bothered her.

He had an arm thrown over his eyes to hide fromthe daylight creeping through the bay window. His breathing was deep andregular but there was no snoring – soft or otherwise – and if he had truly beenasleep, there would have been. He snored when he slept on his back, that wasamongst the intimate things she knew about him.

“Gonna say something or just stand there andstare all day?” he muttered eventually.

She was hit all over again by how differentthey were.

There she was, at seven in the morning, dressedand ready for the day, eager for some coffee and a task to fulfill. Meanwhile,he was sprawled on the couch, butt naked and without a care in the world,probably planning on wasting the day away.

Sometimes she wondered how she could be so hungup on him at all.

Because she washung up. It had come to the point when she compared everyone to him andeveryone was found lacking. Not snarky enough. Too hypocritical. Too shallow.Too… Or rather, not enough.

“Anyone could walk in, Haymitch.” she saidafter a few seconds, because it was her line and they often tended to fall backonto their roles like they were in a play. The bossy cheerful escort and thegrumpy slob mentor. “We had this discussion before.”

“The kids are dead.” he snorted. “Who’s gonnawalk in except you? Avoxes? I’m guessing they saw worse.”

The kids are dead…

The pang of pain was almost strong enough tomake her waver but her face remained blank. Ten years. It had been ten years ofdead children. It never hurt any less but she had learned to keep it toherself.

She wondered if that was why he had gotten sodrunk that he couldn’t have made the trip back to his room. He often gotwasted, she was used to that, but wasted enough that he would rather collapsenaked in the living-room? That was a special brand of bad.

She hadn’t heard him come in. If she had, shewas ready to bet he would have been in one of those weird moods when all hewanted to do was hold her and letting her hold him. He told her things when hewas like that sometimes, things he would never have mentioned otherwise and heprobably didn’t remember having shared in the mornings. Anecdotes about hisbrother, how his mother used to frown at him when she had caught him trying tosneak out of the house to meet his girlfriend, stories of his first few yearsas a mentor he wasn’t proud of, how pointless he felt his life was…

She was grateful that he wasn’t a violentdrunk. It happened, of course, but mostly alcohol in large quantity made himmorose and longing for human comfort. Small mercies, she supposed. His temperusually only flared when he was sober or buzzed. And it was a bad temper. Butit was something else she liked about him, which she would never have confessedunder torture, he told things straight. He got angry when he was angry. Henever pretended to be someone he wasn’t. He pushed the act to its extremesometimes, particularly with the drunken antics and the urge to make himselfthe butt of the joke, but he never took advantage of his friends.

“Where were you?” she asked.

He groaned. “What? You’re my keeper now?”

She was,in fact, his keeper. It might not have been in the job description but beingTwelve’s escort wasn’t just about taking care of the tributes. That had been along established fact. Haymitch never behaved and needed close supervision.Well… She was good at keeping him on the narrow dangerous line between carelessand subversive; it was the reason why she hadn’t been promoted and probablywould never be even if they were all happy to pretend it might still happen.

“It israther a stupid question, I suppose.” she hummed, pursing her lips further.“You were with Chaff. That man is a terribleinfluence.”

“Careful.” he growled, never keen on beinglectured on his best friend.

“I call it as I see it.” she snapped. “He tookyou to one of those shady bars he likes so much, didn’t he? You know it is not good for Twelve’sreputation for you to be seen there. And, truly,if you are going to get this drunk, can’t you do it here? Those parts of town aren’t safe.”

“Is that concern, sweetheart? How touching.” he mocked, lifting his arm tolook at her only to wince when the light hit his eyes and place his arm back onhis face. “This place needs curtains.” he muttered unhappily. His features werestrained now. His jaw was clenched. “Be a good girl and find me some pills formy head…”

“Perhaps you should go to your room where youwill find pills and darkness andwhere nobody would have to stare at your penis.” she retorted.

“I move, I puke.” he warned with a shrug. Sherolled her eyes and let out a long deep sigh that was meant to let him knowjust how irritating he was before turning on her heels to fetch the usualhangover treatment. The clicking of her stilettos echoed in the otherwisesilent room and he groaned. “Do you haveto keep those on?”

She took great pleasure in stomping her heelsharder.

She came back after a couple of minutes with atall glass of water, a tablet of pills, a cold cloth for his eyes and a bucketjust in case. And because she was that nice,she also fetched a tray from the dining-room where breakfast had been served,waiting for them to partake in. She dismissed the Avox girl when she stepped upas if to carry the food, not keen on anyone eyeing Haymitch’s private parts.

Of course, Haymitch protested at the smell offood but when she forced a piece of blueberry muffin in his mouth, he startedchewing and stopped complaining. She perched on the edge of the couch, next tohis hip, letting him wriggle closer to the back to accommodate her and grumbleabout how annoying she was. For the most part, she didn’t speak. She sipped hercoffee and nibbled on her toast, sometimes pressed pieces of muffin against hislips until he opened up and ate them, but generally let him lie there with thatcloth on his eyes, being miserable.

She could feel his warmth, particularly wherehis hip was digging in the small of her back. He was always warm and sheenjoyed that. She was like a lizard. She loved being hot.

She enjoyed the smell a lot less. He smelt likebooze, faint tobacco, sweat and the ripe odor of unwashed skin.

“DareI ask what shenanigans you got up to last night?” she asked when she washalfway down her glass of orange juice.

She wasn’t as calm about his night out as shemade it sound. If there had been a scandalous stunt involved, it would fall onher to handle the backlash. And he and his friends were more likely than not toget involved in stupid scandalous stunts. The fact that she hadn’t been calledto the Peacekeeper station to fetch them probably was a good sign though.

“Just a club.” he mumbled. “Chaff wanted to getlaid.”

“When doesn’the want to get laid?” she scoffed under her breath.

She knew Haymitch had been a bit of a playerbefore they had settled into… whatever this non-officially-exclusive thing wasthey had going on, but he had calmed down, either because he was growing in ageor because he found what he needed with her. Chaff, on the other hand, wasstill very eager to have sex with every willing woman he met.

‘Everyone copes like they can’ Haymitch hadtold her once.

She wasn’t fond of Chaff’s way of coping,mainly because he didn’t seem to grasp that she didn’t like it when he tried togrope her. And he tried every two days. And it was worse when he was drunk,which he was quite often.

“Didn’t go so well.” he admitted, blindingfeeling around for the glass of water he had left on the floor. He swallowed whatwas left of it, probably wondering if he should share the tale or not. On somedays – most days lately – they were friendly, on others they acted as if theystill loathed and hated each other. She wasn’t in the mood for aconfrontational day so she finished her orange juice and grabbed the rest ofhis muffin, forcing it in his hand when he placed the empty glass of waterdown.

“He has a reputation.” she hummed. Everyoneknew he slept around. Everyone knew, also, that it would a good night but thatit would go no further. Having had sex with a victor was a wonder for one’sreputation but Chaff… Well, there was no using Chaff to up one’s reputationwhen everyone else knew he had used you full point. Besides, by now, he musthave screwed his way through half the city.

“Wasn’t that.” Haymitch made a face, taking abite of the muffin. Crumbs fell everywhere and she didn’t resist the urge tobrush them off his chest. His mouth quirked up in amusement but he didn’tmention it. He adjusted the cloth on his eyes with his free hand. It wasn’tthat damp anymore and she suspected it was even a little useless but she didn’tcall him out on it. “The girls he picked…”

“Ofcourse there was one for you too.” she growled, reaching on the breakfasttray for the chocolate muffin she had told herself she wouldn’t eat because itwould mean ten more minutes on the running mill later on.

The things one did to keep their figure…

She gave a sad regretful look to the pastry andthen cut small pieces of it and let the chocolate melt on her tongue with raptpleasure. She must have made some sound of appreciation because Haymitchsnatched the cloth off his face and watched her with slightly bloodshot greyeyes.

His gaze was riveted to her mouth and since shedidn’t think he was particularly fond of her moss green lipstick, she deducedshe must have some chocolate crumbs there. She licked her lips for a goodsecond, making sure there was no traces left.

“You’re trying to kill me?” he snorted quiteseriously. “’Cause you make those sounds and you do this… Ain’t really in shape for that,Princess. Except if you want my head to blow.”

She gave him an innocent look that a quick peekto his groin quickly betrayed.

She smiled when she realized he was actuallyinterested. It was always good to know.

“Continue.” she requested, keeping herappreciation for the chocolate pastry to herself. She didn’t particularly wantto listen to how he had seduced a random woman in a club but she would haveliked to know how far things had gone with her. Morbid curiosity. Or maybe shesimply liked to hurt herself.

“They were too young.” he said after a fewseconds, making a face even as he said it. “Twenty or something.”

Which to his thirty-six years of age was quitea difference. Never mind chaff who was already past forty.

She had always liked older men but distinguished ones, those who didn’t actdesperate to score a younger woman. Thoseones… Well those ones, women tended to make fun of.

“I am surprised you went for it at all.” sheremarked, trying hard to keep any trace of jealousy or possessiveness from hervoice. “They must have been veryattractive.”

The amused smirk told her she was beingabsolutely transparent.

“They were young.”he replied as if it explained everything and, she supposed, for most men itdid. It was such a Capitol thing to say that it threw her though. Haymitchwasn’t like that. He wasn’t… “Chaffwas all over them.” He said it casually, barely put a stress on his friend’sname, but it was enough for her to relax. Chaff would have been all over them, it was like him. Haymitch… Haymitch wouldn’t have. “Told him to call it quitafter five minutes. They were fussy. Kept asking us to buy them fancy cocktailswith ridiculous names… Kept expecting to serve them hand and foot…” He rolledhis eyes. “That’s more Finnick’s play than mine. Got annoyed real fast. ButChaff kept telling me he needed a wing man and…” He waved what was left of themuffin dismissively. “They weren’t really bright those girls. Heard themtalking, giggling together… Making fun of us.”

His voice trailed off and Effie winced, onlytoo aware of the kind of talk she and her friends had when they were flirtingwith men they had no intention of sleeping with only to get free drinks.

“Chaff must have been crushed.” she teased.

“Not much can crush Chaff.” he snorted aroundthe last of his muffin.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, truly,Haymitch.” she scowled, brushing crumbs off his chest again. Her hand lingereda little, a touch possessive. “So not at all a successful night.”

Haymitch slumped further down the couch,bending a leg. She propped her forearm on it, placing her chin on it to watchhim. Not quite a proper stance but he was naked and they were alone. Nobodywould know.

“Well, we got wasted. That was fun.” he muttered. “Didn’t have to awkwardly brush anyone offat the end of the night either, I count that as a win.”

“Do you often brush off women you spend a wholenight seducing?” she grinned. He shot her a dark look and she got the messageclear enough. She dropped it. They didn’t talk about this. They didn’t talkabout what they did – or didn’t do –with other people. Still, she couldn’t help it. At the thought of him and Chafftrying to charm the pants off two twenty years old, she laughed. “That young?Really?”

“Not my choice. Chaff picked them up.” hegrumbled, jerking his knee once in retribution. She didn’t let herself beshrugged off though. “Nasty chicks. Said some stuff…” He scoffed. “Doesn’tmatter.”

But it clearly did matter because he was sulking, avoiding her eyes.

“What did they say?” she frowned.

“Chaff got the worst of it.” he mumbled. “Madefun of his missing hand. That sort of classy stuff.”

“Did they make fun of your drinking?” Shepursed her lips, already trying to devise ways in which she could find thosegirls and make their life a living hell.

“Some.” he scowled. “Mostly…” He fell silent.“It’s stupid stuff. Doesn’t matter.”

He was protesting too much but she didn’tinsist. She ran her nails up and down his thigh very purposefully instead.

“How is your head?” she hummed.

The leg she was propped on stretched and shewas pulled on his chest when she fell. It was answer enough.

She only rethought that brilliant idea when hekissed her because his morning breath was almost enough to make her tipsy but his only reaction when she complainedwas to chuckle. She had forgotten all about it by the time he had rolled themover.

“Naked on the couch, Trinket…” he teasedafterwards, once she lied slumped and limp on her stomach on his chest, herhips trapped between his legs. “How improper…Anyone could come in…”

“Oh, shutup.” she scoffed, drifting off a little. Her fingers were running distractedlyon his side, accidentally matching the patterns he was drawing on her shoulderblades.

His chuckles were a rumble under her cheek.

He had a point though. They really shouldn’thave stayed there, it really wasn’t done. On the other hand, they had notributes left to care for and they weren’t expected anywhere until that night’sparty.

It wasn’t long before he was toying with herhair. She wasn’t sure where her wig had disappeared to. Perhaps behind thearmchair.

“You think I’m fat?”

She had to do a double take at that questionbecause, truth be told, it was something shemight have asked but had never expected himto.

“Fat?” she repeated.

“Yeah, fat.” he scowled.

Her hand roamed up and down his side. His skinwasn’t smooth like hers was. There were small flaws, the occasional small bumpof a faint scar… She let her fingers move to his chest, circle his dark nipple onceonly to let them drift to his stomach…

“Absolutely not.” she huffed. He had no realabs to speak of and his stomach wasn’t firm but she would never have called himfat. A few years back, when he hadreally let go of himself… Well, one remark about beer bellies had been enoughto get him back on regularly chopping wood and chopping wood was a good way tokeep in shape. He didn’t really feed as he should to begin with. She suspected thatwhen he wasn’t in the Capitol and didn’t have her to drag him to the diningtable, he didn’t always eat three meals a day either because he forgot orcouldn’t be bothered. “Is that what those women were saying?”

“Amongst other things.” he snorted. “Used to beeasy to pick up girls, you know. Guess I got used to being called handsome.”

“You arehandsome.” she protested, propping herself up on his chest to look at him. “Ido not sleep with unattractive men.” He lifted a knowing eyebrow and she rolledher eyes. “You are handsome,Haymitch.” There was nothing shedidn’t like about his body. Even his weird shaped toes. He was strong and manlyin ways no Capitol man could hope to be. Being with him thrilled her. “What do twenty year old girls know about men?”

“You thought you knew quite a lot if I rememberright.” he taunted.

“And you called me stupid three times a day.”she pointed out.

“Still do.” he smirked, his mood visiblylifting.

“So attractive and yet so rude.” shedeadpanned.

“That’s what turns you on.” he accused. “Youlike the bad boy vibes.”

She rested her cheek back on his chest, humoringhim. “Of course.”

He coiled her hair around his hand, giving agentle tug. “Knew it.”

Perhaps finding Haymitch naked on the couchfirst thing in the morning wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #games time #teapot #hurt comfort #protective effie #drunk haymitch #coconuts friends #jealousy

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