#glasses orb makes an inquiry

[spidermanifested]

i cant believe edward elric pisses on the poor

#fullmetal alchemist (fullmetal alchemist) #glasses orb makes an inquiry

[serawritesthings]

AMBIVALENT MINDS

Pairing | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem! Reader Summary | There was no doubt an air of mystery surrounded Simon, and while you hadn't seen him in years, his sudden appearance rendered you shocked, to say the least. It doesn't come without complications, though, resurfacing feelings that should have been laid to rest. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, angst-heavy, description of violence, very sad :D Word Count | 12k A/N | Hello once again lovelies! I have recently been working in this fic about Ghost, where I had an idea that I thought was very fitting for him. I'm so used to writing for Arthur, so I'm a bit nervous, but I thought I would challenge myself for this one! I really hope you like it, and if you do, don't hesitate to let me know. I would much appreciate it! ♡ Also, I'm still head-deep in my Arthur Morgan phase, so the next fic will probably be of him. Enjoy!

Stoic had always felt like a suitable word to describe the ghost that haunted your mind. Lacing every corner of your thoughts, he strayed, forever walking the memories of your past–unwanted and unwilling, unidentified, and under no sense of obligation to you or anyone else.

His presence had become a looming shadow, casting a heavy gloom over what you so profoundly wished to forget. No matter how hard you tried to escape those clutches, he held on too tightly, etching his essence into the fabric of your consciousness as the echoes of his footsteps reverberated through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of what you wished could be undone.

But it left you more unsatisfied than initially prepared for, finding the distance between you to be nauseating, like the miles only made the hurt seem to grow closer until it was seeping into your very bones. Although reality had a funny way of keeping up with you, clouding the past in its grasp, so now, it only felt like someone else’s experience and not your own–oddly comforting and discomforting all at the same time.

Simon always seemed to have that effect on you, and it was always the most challenging part for you throughout the years you spent together. One day, you would find the rough exterior grow gentle as it warmed the harsh edges with the soft look in his consistently monotone eyes; the other day, sharp and cold orbs cut through you like a splicer–like you were a stranger.

It was hurtful and increasingly confusing, making you wonder if you had been in a one-sided relationship all this time. He kept many parts of himself a secret from you, heavily guarded behind thorny walls, as even the slightest inquiry made him shut you out completely. The struggle you went through to gain his trust was like tiptoeing through a glass field, every step bordering on agony.

He never told you where he lived, only ever sleeping at your apartment even though it was too cramped. And, as it came to his private life, he didn’t speak a word but almost knew yours entirely from the number of questions he asked and your willingness to keep talking the moment you got started.

Funny that his nickname spoke so well with his aura, for that was exactly how you had perceived him now that you had a clear look at him that wasn’t shrouded with love and admiration. In reality, you didn’t know who he was under all those layers and cautious ways, your conversations made up of carefully guarded expressions and chosen words, the depth of emotions often hidden behind a veil of protection.

Somehow, he had felt, well, real? More real than the faked chivalry you were so used to when you were brought up, parents having more wealth than you deemed necessary amidst their strive towards perfection. Compared to their stale kindness and expectations, Simon was a welcomed change, as exciting as he was human.

For a younger you, he was fascinating and shrouded in a prolonged mystery you begged him to tell you. But he never did, always preaching about the unsafety of his life and no less job, that you were better left unknowing–for your sake. So curious and unbelievably stupid you were at the time, not realizing the danger that surrounded Simon and how it could affect you.

You understood him, though, and you did for a long time, but for obvious reasons, it grew exhausting to harbor a love for a man like that. You were young and naïve, only surpassing your early twenties that were spent on edge with an older man you weren’t sure could love anyone, no less himself.

In the shadow of your own accord, the best years of your life passed away, and through long days of studying for your medical degree and battling the struggles of barely seeing him–wondering where he was most of the time–you set your sight on other things, naturally.

For this reason, you always reminded yourself that he couldn’t be loved because he didn’t want to. The thought bruised you because for the longest time, you couldn’t imagine being without him. Thank God that time heals wounds, for the thought grew dim; despite his looming presence, you couldn’t shake from your mind, even though you tried your damnedest.

“I wonder where you went just now, missus.” The warm tone of Gretel filled your ears comfortingly as it cut through the obnoxious clicking of the pen you tormented anxiously. Stopping abruptly, you glanced at the woman writing in a patience journal, focused but somehow acutely aware of your absent-mindedness.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke quietly, the luminescent light flickering above you as you straightened your back, getting ready to continue your work. “Just stuck in my thoughts…” You trailed off with a sigh, avoiding her questioning gaze as she peered at you over the bundle of paper.

Although a sharp and hardworking lady, Gretel had a knack for seeing straight through you. It was a shame since you always prided yourself on your ability to stay undecipherable, a thing you learned after the heavy supervision you had been under when you were younger.

You could almost swear she was psychic, for she always had this look in her eyes, like every thought that passed through your mind was the most obvious thing in the world, and you felt just as ashamed every time you thought something filthy in her presence.

“Hmm, I know that look, dear. Why don’t you finish up and go home? Rest your mind for a while. Lord knows we have a lot of work to get done tomorrow now that the doctors have been slacking off lately,” she hummed unamused at the last statement, turning back to the endless words loitering the pages, glasses hanging low on her nose.

“Oh, you sure?” In all actuality, you weren’t interested in going home anymore. It felt too empty these days, the eeriness seeping into every corner of the house. Here, you at least had people around you every minute of the day, patient or college, and burying your head in work seemed more of an appealing way to deal with your emotions than staring endlessly into the white tapestry of your wall without a single second of sleep.

“Course I am.” Wishing you away with her hands, you glanced uncomfortably at the snow falling outside the window, hoping to stay in the hospital's warmth. But alas, you knew better than to question her, so you finished your work in silence, the loud drag of your chair notifying Gretel you were on your way.

“Any plans tonight?” She sent a mischievous look your way, expectantly. “A special someone, maybe?”

“No.” You only let out a breathy laugh, giving her a look that spoke too much of your answer. “No, I uh, I’m going to bed.” Cringing at yourself, you shut your eyes when your back was towards the inquiring woman, chastising your inability to make up a lie instead of telling her the sad truth.

“I don’t believe that, a fine woman like you staying home on a Friday night?” She put down the papers and put all her attention on you. “Blasphemy, if I’ve ever heard it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted slightly, appreciating her attempts to lift your mood. It was depressing, though; you could admit that. Earlier, you had heard both the younger and older coworkers gossip about the nightly adventures that awaited as the clock turned 5, feeling like shrinking into the floor at the lack of excitement in your life compared to theirs.

“What about that mystery man that came through here some time ago every time you got off work?” Her words made you stop in your tracks, the now remaining cold, stale coffee you were forcing down your throat spilling down the corners of your mouth, staining your shirt.

“Oh, dear, let me help you.” As the woman rushed towards you, your mind grew numb at the thought of the man you had tried so hard to push toward the back of your mind. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about him for quite a while, but Gretel’s words forced you to face the cold eyes that stared back at you in your mind, ultimately ruining your every attempt.

“Sorry, I just-” Her reprimanding voice cut your apology short.

“No need to apologize,” she shushed you, grabbing the cup from your hands before you dropped it, smiling heartily in comfort as your cheeks flushed a bright red.

You gladly left the building after your mishap, and although with a large coffee stain under your jacket to showcase your bad luck, it felt relieving to be outside in the fresh air instead of your work’s stale smell of disinfectant and latex. More so, to avoid another possibility of embarrassing yourself somehow.

Gretel hadn’t pestered you more about your apparent surprise when she brought up Simon, but you could feel her eyes scrutinizing you when you weren’t looking. You pondered if she would be disappointed if you let her know you were mere strangers to each other, bordering on a heavy dislike from the abrupt end you faced.

When you grew tired of trying, you presented him with an ultimatum that took weeks for you to muster up the courage in order to speak of it. It felt more like he was the one to break things off with you than the other way around, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. He didn’t even get angry as the tears of distress from his lack of emotions ran down your cheeks when you questioned him, wondering why he stayed.

The look on his face wasn’t giving away an ounce of hurt, only remaining detached like he always did, like your talk was a major inconvenience. Your distraught voice didn’t affect him as you begged him to listen and realize, it took so much away from you always to be mindful of him.

“You never let me in, Simon. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around you all the time, like the smallest thing I say will set you off.” Whenever you spoke of this, it felt like he dissociated. You might as well be talking to a wall the way he seemed to bounce every word back at you, eyes observing you under the dim light of your kitchen where he leaned against the counter.

There had been something strangely different about him this time, though, as he came to you in the middle of the night, disturbing you, who had just managed to fall asleep after an increasingly tricky work day. It wasn’t that you disliked him coming to you, but he never told you why after being gone for so long, which troubled you.

“I don’t even know you! You never tell me anything, and you know almost all there is to know about me.” You gazed at him questioningly, only gaining a blank look back. Crossing his arms, he gazed out the small window of your kitchen as the rain made its way down the glass.

When you stepped into your apartment after your long walk from work, the memory hit you tenfold: everything looked remarkably the same as that day–the last day you saw him. If you focused hard enough, you could almost see him still standing there, watching you indescribably as you poured your heart out to him, begging him to stop shielding himself from you.

Now that you looked back at it, you almost felt embarrassed for how you behaved compared to his composed self, but you couldn’t hold back your frustration anymore. The pain and defeat you felt had boiled over, making you wonder if he had viewed you as childish for the words that poured out of you uncontrollably.

Taking your stained shirt off, you changed into something more comfortable before burying your head in the sheets, wanting to melt into the fabric so you could resume the ignorance of your past the following day.

It didn’t work, though, as you could almost feel the comforting rumble of his voice under your head like the sheets had magically turned into his chest, the steady beating of his heart pulsing heavily against your cheek. The fold in the linen grew into the familiar, scarred skin under your palms, your fingers tracing the ruined tissue that stretched far as the coldness of him heavily contrasted with your warmth.

The low chatter of your ancient TV grew distant as sleep started to pull you into its embrace. In the last remains of wakefulness, you could feel his coarse fingers caress your cheek before pulling some strands that covered it behind your ear–lingering on the soft curves as it hurled you closer to dreamless slumber.

“Stay quiet.”

Your eyes opened wide at the sudden breath that hit your ear; not a figment of your imagination, but someone whispering the words harshly against you. Your first instinct was to scream, but you found a broad, gloved hand already covering your mouth, muting the sound successfully against the otherwise quiet apartment–despite the low buzz of the TV in the background.

A heavy weight had you trapped underneath it, and you trashed wildly against the hold. Your movements grew limited, though, and as you moved, you found yourself pressed even firmer against the mattress, the voice you could recognize anywhere rumbling dangerously at you when you didn’t listen.

“I said quiet.” It felt like water as cold as ice washed over you when the familiar voice reached you, rendering you quiet and unmoving in pure shock.

You didn’t get much time to ponder over your current predicament, hearing quiet yet rustling footsteps step slowly on the creaking floor panels of your apartment. The hair on your arms rose when you realized others who were unwelcome walked outside the room, the creeping footsteps only growing closer to your bedroom door.

As they did, the hand covering your mouth slowly released its grip, but not before pushing a finger against your lips. You obeyed, feeling him pull you closer so you were pulled taut against him, having no choice but to follow his lead as he stepped away from the bed. Every movement was cautious and quiet as your back was pushed up against the wall beside the door, your whole frame covered by a broad back that towered before you.

It was Simon, no doubt. You were sure of it as you gazed up at the man, the broadness of his shoulders, the tall height, and the gruff voice that had called you out earlier. From what you could see from his back, he was dressed differently; a mask seemed to cover the whole of his head down to his neck, pulled into a sweater of the same color as a thick vest could be seen from underneath it.

In a hasty motion, you felt his hand graze the skin of your stomach as he pulled what appeared to be a gun that was strapped against his body from the waistline of his jeans.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the clicking noise as he loaded the metal slowly cutting through the quiet room, backing up even more so you were pushed tighter against the wall. The footsteps had ceased now, and for a while, you pondered if they had ever been there in the first place, wondering if this was reality or just a depraved dream your exhausted mind had conjured up in lack of excitement.

But then, you saw the door handler move slightly out of the corner of your eyes. Craning your head towards it in fear, your view was obscured though as Simon moved to shield you even further, lifting the gun as the door creaked open, the soft light of your hallway lamp illuminating the room, a giant shadow now apparent on the walls from the figure outside.

The door remained open, and the seconds ticked slowly like ages passed; your trembling hands made their way to Simons’s sides, grabbing his waist as you tried to keep your breathing quiet, heartbeat picking up as he placed a gloved hand on yours for a second to then wrap around the handle again.

What transpired next could only be likened to a horrible nightmare: the muted sounds of a suppressed gun going off, a body falling like a ragdoll down on the floor of your bedroom, dark blood seeping into the fabric of your rug from the man now laying there, completely and utterly lifeless.

Left staring at Simons’s back when he rushed towards the figure, he checked the man’s pulse in a quick motion. You couldn’t form a single sound, neither could you think straight as shock flooded you at the sight, eyes growing wide when you started to register what transpired.

Still remaining pressed against the wall in disbelief, you heard the low rumble of Simons’s voice speak into his intercom, eyes staring at you briefly through the holes in his mask before raising up, putting it back in his pocket while stalking toward you in big strides.

Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you gently but hastily out the door, pushing your head to look forward as your gaze was transfixed on the dead man, finding it increasingly absurd to see that sight in the bedroom you had just slept in.

In your haze, you had found yourself being led into the kitchen, lifted up with strong arms on the counter as he grasped your cheeks in his gloved hands, finding your eyes unfocused and clouded.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as his eyes sought yours, patting your cheek gently to gain your attention. You craned your neck slightly to look up at him, eyes covered with black paint under the mask, seeming so familiar yet different from the man you knew.

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, confusion lacing the edges as tears started to brim the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming emotions that hit you after the apparent shock that rendered you frozen.

“You’re alright,” he told you; as he swept his thumb over your cheek, a tear fell, bringing your head to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, gripping his waist in distress. Shushing you, he let you lean against him for a while as you sobbed, terrified of what had just transpired and what he had done.

You could still see the emotionless eyes staring back at you in your mind, the thought of them still lying in the next room shooting pangs of anxiety through you. Just like that, he had fallen to the floor, and through your tears, you started to feel the confusion fill you and the shock at what Simon had done.

He had killed a man. Also, he was dressed like a madman, wearing a mask and a vest, with a gun strapped into his jeans. He had been prepared to kill, and that thought hit you like a train as you felt your tears freeze, the arms around you caging you in until you started to push on his chest frantically, begging him to step away.

“What did you do!?” Distressed, you hit Simon’s chest in protest, feeling claustrophobic at having him standing so close after what he had just done. He didn’t budge, though, grabbing your arms tightly as he bent down to look you in the eyes.

“Stop that.” Sternly, he tried to get you to stop moving, but you didn’t listen. Still, uneasiness lingering in your thoughts.

“You killed him!” He hushed you with a dangerous look in his eyes, pulling your hands to your back so he could grip your wrists with one hand, stepping closer so he was pushed against you with the other hand gripping your chin forcefully.

“Listen!” He hissed loudly, making you stop your trashing when he did. “I need to get you out of here, got it?” You only stared at him frightfully as he spoke. “You need to stay quiet and keep close to me. Can you do that?”

When Simon didn’t get an answer, he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the fabric of his glove pulling your wild hair behind your ear.

“If you don’t do as I say, you’ll face the same fate as the man in your bedroom, understand?” You nodded slowly, and as he released your wrists in caution, he gave you a nod back when he realized you were listening to him.

“No matter what, you stay behind me. Got it?” His voice grew monotone as he took hasty strides towards your window, checking the empty street outside your apartment for a second before lowering the blinds. The kitchen grew shrouded in darkness, only the moon shining through the blinds. Taking a deep breath, you wiped your tears as you tried to gather yourself.

This wasn’t how you planned for your night to go. Just like any other Friday night, you were prepared to sleep the night away, not being witness to a murder, no less by your ex. He had been secretive through the years you spent together, and sure, you had made up various insane scenarios about his background. There had been crazier assumptions than Simon being a murderer, but that didn’t make the thought any easier.

Thinking about it made you shiver, wondering who he was beneath this facade he kept up and if this had been the case when you’d known him. Had he been hiding this from you all this time? You couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even if it was only you assuming. But then, he probably knew you would have one or two things to say about his, well, occupation.

Your first instinct was to keep your distance, but you realized you had no choice but to follow his lead if you wanted to escape this chaotic mess. Somewhere along your distressed mind and trembling hands that were a blend of his actions and being told you might have been killed tonight, his presence made the situation less grim, the usual safety he carried around him soothing your stress.

It wasn’t unusual, for he had always prioritized your safety–almost bordering on possessive. It had been a significant problem for you, seeing as it reminded you of your parents, whom you left when you turned 18, not wanting to be under that kind of supervision anymore. Countless memories of gruesome fights flashed before you, remembering the mood swings that turned Simon into a completely different person, words chilling and inexcusable action plenty.

Although many times horrible, his eyes had always been set straight on you, and despite them being sharp and calculated, you could almost feel the warmth radiate from them when they fell upon you. A hand on the small of your back, a large frame shielding you from others’ curious eyes and his sight, ever-so-watchful on you.

He was a man of actions, not words, and always picked you up when needed, walked you home, and even stayed in your apartment every chance possible, deeming it wasn’t a safe neighborhood. You had Simon to thank for the reinforced locks on your doors and windows, as well as the taser and pepper spray still in your purse to this day.

Cautiously, you trailed behind him as you moved through the hallway, the light above you flickering as you felt his hand planting itself on the small of your back as he reached around you. Pressing you closer to him, he took measured steps that echoed through the walls, not a single sound from the apartments surrounding you.

There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you, and there were so many questions you wanted to ask. Who was that man creeping through your apartment, and why, for all reasons, did Simon manage to be there at the right time? It felt too surreal to hold legitimacy, but somehow, you were thankful he was.

Simon’s gaze, once penetrating, had been soft when it met your wide ones a few minutes ago. It had always been rare to find him vulnerable, rarely getting a glimpse of the man behind the stoic eyes, but it reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. The rare glimpses of love he showed were enough to fuel your own at the time, running on the tiny specks of affirmation that he might, in fact, love you like you did him.

But there was a twinge of something else, a draft of loneliness clouding them that you had never seen before. It shot a pang of sadness through you, although unwillingly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had someone else to lean on when you left him, or had you been the only one?

Blinking the reminiscent thoughts away, you refused to direct your thoughts toward the pity that always laced your feelings regarding Simon. There hadn’t been anything you could do to help him anymore when you left him, and you had to put yourself first for once and realize that what you had was growing increasingly more destructive with time.

You were glad you cut it off before it got any worse, wondering many times how it would have panned out if you hadn’t left. And more so, he hadn’t given you a single reason to stay when you left, only gazing into the air like you weren’t there–not begging you to stay like you desperately wanted.

“Where are you taking me?” A worried curiosity started to take hold of you, and amidst your cautious eyes and careful steps down the stairway in the apartment building, the thought of who the now-dead man actually was and if there were more around swirled in your mind.

You only got a miffed head turn in response, glaring at you through the black paint as he raised a finger to his clothed lips. Getting his notion, you kept quiet behind him, sock-clad feet following his every step on the dirty, laminated floor. You didn’t see a single person on the way down, and it felt eerie despite it being in the middle of the night with everyone asleep.

As you descended on what you now realized was the entry floor, you suddenly felt yourself pulled roughly against the corner of a wall, face right before Simon’s chest. You heard voices coming from the opening of the building, sirens audible in the background as the sound of traffic lessened when someone closed the door–voices growing nearer by the second.

You gasped out loud at suddenly being trashed around, but when you saw the broad arms of Simon encase your head with his body pressed up against yours, you relaxed. Craning your head hastily to gaze up at him, you already found his eyes staring intensely at you, although faltering when he met yours in what you might have interpreted as shyness.

Your gaze flickered, unsure where to look now that he was so close to you. You opted to plant your eye on his chest, the folds and curves of the sweatshirt following his ample muscles that were hiding under the fabric, bulging when his m muscles flexed.

A deep, red blush grew on your cheeks, and you chastised yourself for being so obvious, wondering if he took notice. Redirecting your gawking, you tried looking towards the side but found his large arms blocking your view as he leaned down further to shield you from, well, you weren’t so sure.

After some time, you heard the hurried voices pass as the footsteps grew distant. As you looked up at Simon, relieved, you found him already stalking towards the entry door, grabbing your upper arm when you stumbled to drag you behind him.

It was freezing outside, the chilly air seeping into the thin cotton of your pajamas as you cringed when your feet stepped on the snowy sidewalk, now wholly wet. You didn’t have time to ponder it, though, being directed towards a black car poorly parked a few meters away, like the driver had been in a hurry.

The street was empty, aside from a few other cars littered around the streets, heavy with the snowfall that had been falling a few hours ago. It wasn’t a neighborhood with a good reputation, and often you read about the crime and dealings held in the dark alleyways and corners of the city. You didn’t have too many options, though, the already low pay from your nurse job being even lower since you just got out of school.

The seat underneath you was cold when Simon pushed you through the door, slamming it so hard that the sound echoed in the quiet street. Running quickly to the driver’s side, he wasted no time in starting the engine, tires screeching as he belted through the tightly built buildings into the highway.

His eyes were strained, staring firmly ahead, ignoring all laws of speeding when he drove faster–not that there were any other cars around. Confusion clouded your face as you stared at him staying taut against his seat, glancing worriedly in the rearview mirror every other second.

“What’s going on, Simon?” You asked him, voice audibly stressed, gripping the seat tightly and craning your head to look behind you. There was no answer, as expected, and it only managed to fuel your anxiety as you watched his jaw tighten under the taut mask caressing his jawline. It didn’t deter you from continuing to demand an answer to why you were in this chaotic mess in the first place and what his part was in it.

The engine’s rhythmic hymn provided a backdrop to your growing unease, prodding him to speak. “Simon!” You pleaded, but he remained silent, navigating the empty streets with a determination that intrigued and frightened you–the unanswered question hanging heavy in the air, thick and stifling.

Simon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and you were shot with a sharp, almost challenging look. “There’s people after you,” he snapped, voice cutting through the air. “But I can’t lay it all out for you now, so just do as I say.”

“What?!” You gripped the seat to turn around, seeing the road behind you devoid of any other cars. “You can’t be serious!”

His gaze, shielded and focused, hid the more profound truth–that the dangerous shadows tailing you were a consequence of his own actions, a perilous side of his life that had unexpectedly spilled into yours when he basked in the euphoria of being loved by you. The bonds you once shared had been like an anchor but now grew into a chain, its links forged in the crucible of his regrets.

You were left staring ahead while damning his stubbornness to not speak through the rest of the ride. The long way allowed you to think about the last hour and how absurd it was, especially seeing Simon again, which you had thought would never be the case some time ago.

Somewhere, deep in the crooks and nooks of your heart, it soared at seeing him again, prodding heavily at the memories you kept at bay, memories that hurt too much to consider many times. You examined his body that too many others bulged in pride and confidence, but to you, hunching slightly in exhaustion, fingers flexing nervously against the wheel.

He had grown much taller and broader since you last saw him, with an air of maturity surrounding him that you hadn’t noticed before. Admittedly, you were both grown adults now, more so since he was older than you, and it felt quite different to be near him. You were unsure if you had romanticized the few good parts of your relationship that weren’t shrouded in misunderstandings and miscommunication or if you actually missed the first and only man you had ever loved.

The air in the vehicle grew tight as time passed, but at least it was warm as he had put the heat on blast when taking notice of your shivering frame. The strain of emotions from the moments leading up to now seemed to get a hold of you, and in a tired haze, you felt your lids droop heavily as you tried to keep your focus on the road.

After some time, though, your head fell heavily against the door, neck craning uncomfortably as your body succumbed to the heavy load of the day. It felt like seconds had passed when you woke up from your deep slumber, head fitted into warm sheets covering your body in heaps as small orange lights shone through the blinds.

As you blinked slightly, you still felt the heaviness of sleep hanging over you, bare feet rubbing against the bedding as you snuggled closer into the warmth and familiar scent that surrounded you, once more falling into a dreamless slumber without wondering where the hard, plastic side of the door against your cheek went.

It wasn’t until the evening sun settled high in the sky that you awoke again, this time wide awake. Only, it wasn’t your bed; instead, dark, blue sheets covered your frame, shielding you against the coldness of the apartment–only now noticing a black jacket twice the size of your body wrapped around you.

–

Slightly dazy and confused, you rubbed your eyes that complained at having to remain open, sitting up straight. So, last night hadn’t been a dream? Smiling lightly, you realized your night had been much more action-filled than your colleagues if that counted for something.

“Hello?” Your voice broke through the silence, quiet and cautious, yet sure Simon had to be nearby. When the silence stretched on, you cast the blanket aside to recognize the familiar chill wound around your legs that weren’t shielded by the jacket.

Grimacing, you pulled the sides of the jacket closer to you, wondering if the heat was off. There was no mistake that it wasn’t yours, the wooden floor under your feet creaking audibly as you stepped over some planks that were missing, observing the small cracks that stretched on the walls and bedroom door that had been wholly wrung off its hinges, now leaning against the wall.

Walking into the small hallway, you stepped over the various objects loitering the floor, bending down to examine what appeared to be some old paperwork among the dirty shirts that couldn’t have been cleaned for a while.

Scrunching your nose, you grabbed the fabric to put it on the old plastic chair that missed one leg, wondering where you had ended up. You heard the slight thud of something falling towards the floor as you did. Gazing down in confusion, the appearance of a small portrait caught your eyes, not having been there a second ago.

Raising your brows, you bent down again, picking up the shiny paper as you observed the familiar smiling face. You remembered the day vividly, the memory making the corners of your mouth chirp up lightly as it flashed before your eyes.

You had rarely gone out with Simon, being told by him that it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. Despite your disagreement about it, you often spend long days in bed, the smell of homemade breakfast wafting under your nose and the feeling of starved hands moving desperately, heatedly, now filling your mind.

You were buried in your bed sheets; face blushed with hair spreading wildly around you like a halo as you gave Simon a toothy smile, begging him not to take the picture through endless giggles as his hand tickled you playfully. He had just made love to you, tender in his own way, and told you he wanted to show you how beautiful you looked to him at that moment.

You placed the marred picture back into the heavy combat jacket you had laid on the chair just now, curious of the torn edges and suspiciously red substance covering it in some places. Had he kept that picture all these years?

“Simon?” Walking further into the apartment, you grew worried, wondering where Simon was. That’s when you heard the low rumble of his voice, talking in a hushed manner.

Tiptoeing faster, you caught sight of his large frame leaning against the kitchen sink, gazing at you monotonously when you entered as his mouth worded undecipherable words before ending the call, pulling the phone back into his front pocket.

As you placed the puzzle pieces together, you realized you were in his apartment. That explains it, you thought to yourself as your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the dire state of it. You couldn’t help but be surprised, never imagining that Simon lived in such a pigsty. It wasn’t that it was untidy; it was more like someone hadn’t been here for ages and ignored the dire need for renovations, looking like it would fall apart at any moment.

Your wide-open eyes met his calculating ones, and as you opened your mouth to speak, he cleared his throat before you could. “Sleep well?” He raised his brow as the question hung in the air, eyes caressing your form as he took you in.

“I, uh…” you trailed off, scrunching your forehead as you tried to find the right words, completely and utterly overwhelmed at where you found yourself. “Yeah, I think so.”

You got a nod back, still staring intensely into each other’s eyes as you wondered where to start the questions that burned in your mind. “You,” you stuttered. “You’re here.” Your fumbled words grew into more of a statement than a question, confusion lacing your expression.

Simon only gave you a look in response, and had you been looking close enough, you would see the corners of his mouth chirp up slightly, unwillingly, of course.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out. “No, what am I doing here?” Shaking your head to clear it, you dragged a hand through your wildly tousled hair before trying again, glancing at him in irritation. “What’s going on?”

He straightened up from his leaning position but didn’t step closer, still rendering you shying slightly away from his intimidating posture as he towered over you, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket slightly–nervously fidgeting your feet on the cold planks.

He nodded towards one of the old chairs surrounding a smaller table, beckoning you to sit down. Cautiously, you shuffled into the small kitchen, sitting tentatively on the chair as you hoped it wouldn’t break under your weight. Simon, though, stayed in his place, watching you indescribably before leaning his hands on the end of the table.

He glanced sideways like he was giving something a heavy thought before directing his gaze toward you again. “You’re in trouble,” he said. “The man I killed yesterday, he had been sent out to kill you.”

You froze in your seat as you felt shivers of utter fear running over your back as your heart began to race, its erratic beats echoing in your ears. The silence enveloped the room was broken by the ominous sounds of your breath, each inhaling a reluctant acknowledgment of the palpable reality you had dreaded.

Kill you? Why in the world would someone want to kill you? The fear grew into a hand that tightened its grip around your chest, making it harder for you to draw breath. Noticing your struggle, Simon’s hand flexed slightly as if he wanted to reach you amidst the panic but decided against it. Instead, he draped the mask he had been wearing over his head, revealing the piercing gaze accompanied by the blonde tufts of hair, messy from wearing the balaclava as the remains of sweat wetted the roots of his hair.

“Hey, it’s alright. He won’t get the chance now.” You weren’t sure if his words had been meant to provide you with comfort, but seeing him without his mask made you feel slightly safer.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You only got a grunt in response as he straightened up, turning away from you to look out the window. “Who was he?” You asked, trying to crane your neck to get more glimpses of his face that he had shielded from you until now.

There was something different about them, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They seemed tired, though; the bags underneath them were hard not to notice, heavy and swollen as the whites of his eyes were shielded under a light redness.

“Kessler.” He let on, words short. Noticing your silence, he sighed. “Victor Kessler”

“But why was he in my apartment?”

Rubbing his eyes, you saw the muscles tense in irritation. “He did… something he shouldn’t, so he got expelled from the task force,” he said. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on him every since, but revenge isn’t a fool's game–not for him, it seems.” He felt your gaze on him, sighing again when he realized you weren’t satisfied by the answer.

“Look, I don’t know. Revenge maybe? He was going to use you to get to me; knowing you being dead would give him the reaction he wanted. Either way, you don’t have to worry about him now.”

“Why would…” As his words sunk in after you started to speak, you stuttered, caught off guard. “Why would he use me of all people?” To say you were baffled was an understatement. What you had with Simon was a story from years ago, a thing of the past, which meant there was no reason for you to be the target of their malice.

You felt his eyes on you, but as you looked back, they returned to gaze out into the dark street lightened by the snow and the flickering streetlamp. There were many things you didn’t know of, many things he hadn’t told you–mostly because of secrecy and his stubbornness, but also from the humiliation he would face if he did.

He never thought about how strange it would be for you to wake up and suddenly see him in your apartment after all these years, but Simon didn’t think as he belted towards your building complex in sheer panic when he got the notion just in time.

Without your knowledge, he had been watching you ever since you decided to leave, dead set on never letting you out of his sight. It wasn’t for some sick, deluded reason as many may think, but more of a worry about how he had involved you into his life that he knew couldn’t be escaped, how your safety was compromised when he was too weak to leave.

“It doesn’t matter.” His response was short and conceit, brushing off your inquiries. You pondered over his words that fell reluctantly from his mouth, growing dizzy from all the questions that surged within you at the information.

“You’re a soldier?” He smiled slightly at your conversation change, unbeknownst to you, as his back faced your questioning glances. “Special force operator.”

“Oh,” you mouthed silently, like his words resonated with you. The Simon you had known for most of your life was a soldier? The thought was strange, but it connected some dots for you and the mystery that had always followed him. Special force operator?

“What’s that?”

“We handle things regular troops can’t touch, take missions that others don’t dare.”

“What, like superheroes?” You managed to get something that was supposed to be like a laugh but intertwined with a scoff.

“No, it’s not about playing superhero, love. It’s about being the one who gets things done when the stakes are their highest.” He felt your gaze burning on his back, closing his eyes as the word fell out against his will, like a habit.

He had sometimes called you that when you were together, the endearing term slipping out occasionally. You chastised yourself when you felt the familiar yet strange fluttering in your stomach when hearing it leave, cautiously raising from the chair like Simon was a provoked animal, even though he remained utterly still where he stood, not minding you.

You glanced shyly as you approached him, still not used to being in his presence after such a long time. “So, that’s why you always were so secretive, huh?” The fabric of your jackets touched slightly, the feeling making him glance down at you in a concealed startle at suddenly having you so close. He looked away as you glanced up at him, refusing to let him get away with a grunt as an answer this time.

“You could’ve gotten hurt if I didn’t.” He looked indecisive when your cold fingers lightly placed their way on his hand that rested on the window sill, dark eyes avoiding yours. The skin under your palm was freezing now that his gloves had been removed, the scarred tissue you knew so well contrasting heavily against your unspoiled ones, pads rough and rugged.

Worming your nimble fingers through the backside of his hand, you observed the difference quietly, leaning your head on his big arm tentatively. The muscle tensed under you, his body growing taut under your touch as he had always done, mostly when he came back from what you, at the time, didn’t know the cause of, bruised and apprehensive.

You relaxed slightly when he didn’t pull away, glancing into the street silently. You should still have been terrified to the bone, but safety had always been a given when Simon was near you, and now you understood why you had felt that way. It made you somewhat sad to realize he didn’t speak to you about who he was, but somewhere, you understood why he hadn’t, why he still didn’t tell you the entirety of the situation.

What rendered you speechless was that he had been keeping track of you for this long since he was aware you were in danger. While you had been trying to forget him and move on with your life, he kept tabs on you, ensuring you would be safe.

“You should have told me.” He shook his head immediately, stepping away from your touch, shivering as he still felt the lingering drag of your fingers on his hand.

“I’m glad I didn’t.” You scrunched your brows at his response, stepping toward him but not getting any closer as he grabbed your upper arms in warning. “You’ve only seen me now because you’re in danger, alright? I’ll let you be once you’re safe. I’m unsure if Kessler has any other connections, but I have people who will look it up before you leave. I also had someone go through your apartment and make sure to remo-”

“I don’t want you to leave, Simon.” You interrupted him mid-sentence, words leaving you before you could think them through. It was dangerous for him to be here since he raised feelings inside you that had been buried a long time ago and were best kept locked away; you couldn’t help it, though, for the good moments you remembered were so devastatingly wonderful–making your now boring life pale in its memory.

He stilled at your words, a profound conflict littering his blue eyes as he gazed into your guilty ones. Raising your hand, you placed it on his cheek, running it tentatively over his skin. You thought he would pull away, so you were surprised to see his eyes fluttering shut at the contact, almost leaning into your touch.

The air surrounding you grew taut, with an underlying tension from the warmth spreading low in your belly. Swallowing nervously, you couldn’t help but step closer to him, bringing your arms around his waist to place your palms against the broadness of his back, breathing in his scent as you pushed your cheek flat against his chest.

You shouldn’t, but there was a pull you had no choice but to follow, wondering if it would feel the same as before. You felt his arms wound around you, your lips trembling at the familiar feeling you remembered always used to leave you breathless with devotion.

Simon pulled you tighter towards him, thinking of how he had remembered you feeling against him on the cold, unsure nights, only a gun strapped to his back and a picture of you in the pocket closest to his heart.

Sometimes, when he was sure he was taking his last breaths, he would grab the piece of printed paper, dust it off from the ashes of war as his blood-soaked fingers swiped over the picture, coloring you in a tint of red as he remembered how you had looked the day it was taken. It’s what kept him going when he didn't feel like pushing on.

He wasn’t afraid of dying, neither was he of going to hell, for every day that had passed without you in it, only a picture as proof, already brought him into the scorching fire as the devil himself tortured Simon by only being able to watch you from a distance, all because of his own choices.

It was his fault, of course, that he had chosen this path, but when he met you, it was too late. No longer could he hide from the life he had chosen, having to sacrifice you so he could keep you safe. If that wasn’t torture in itself, he wasn’t sure what was.

The warmth that enveloped him ran like fire up his veins, all sense of logic falling out the window as he basked in your touch, suddenly grabbing your waist and hoisting you around his, stalking in significant strides towards the counter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the coarse stubble rubbing against your cheek as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his hands wander their way under his jacket that covered you, finding sanction around your waist as he sighed at the feeling of your nose trailing up his neck.

Bending his head down towards yours, his lips desperately sought yours, all restraint gone as the chains holding him back fell towards the floor in a loud clank, pushing your body taut against his.

Fueled by his affection, you bask in the tenderness of his touch and desperation in his movements as you push all sense of logic to the back of your mind, longing to feel what you had always felt with Simon, the feelings that had been simmering in the back of your mind.

You shivered as his calloused hands crept under your shirt, caressing the soft skin that had remained untouched ever since he left, battled-bruised hands seeking sanction in the curves of your body that filled his wanton dreams, dreams that always depicted you.

“Simon.” you gasped in a quiet voice, hands running up to rest in the tufts of his hair, arching your back when his fingers traveled down to your backside, palms fitting wholly against you as he pushed you tighter toward his front with a quick drag.

A grunt left him when your legs tightened against him, feeling your crotch pressed against him, the euphoric feeling bordering on nostalgia. The room that remained as cold as it had been before wasn’t anything you pondered over when his hands unzipped your jacket, leaving it still wrapped around your arms, but the shirt of your pajamas was now visible.

“Tell me to stop.” His lips attached themselves to the crevice of your neck, bringing the supple flesh into his mouth as he groaned against you, fingers running their way up your shirt to lightly skim over the thin fabric covering your bare chest.

“Stop, Simon.” You said, voice monotone as you heeded his command needlessly, not paying attention to what you were saying as his thumb slowly caressed the side of your breast, begging him to touch you as your legs automatically widened to let him step further into your embrace.

He didn’t stop, though, not being able to restrain himself any longer as he saw how deliciously your nipple strained against your shirt, mouth-watering as they seemed to almost beg for him to wrap his lips around them. Doing just that, he heard the sound of your moan vibrating through the quiet room as you felt the unusual feeling of his tongue swiping over it through the fabric, gasping as you felt him grind his middle against yours slowly.

“Push me away. I mean it.” Weak hands found his shoulder pushing against the muscles that hid under the fabric of his jacket as he growled out the words, not budging him one bit as he continued his assault on your breast, covering the other with his palm as he crouched down slightly to make up for the height difference.

Grunting in frustration at his body not following his mind, he lifted you up once more after detaching his lips from you, carrying your heated body towards the manky, old bedroom. You unzipped his heavy winter jacket the short way you could, worming your hands around him like a snake, disapproving of the bulletproof vest strapped to him under the sweater. Instead, you grabbed his cheeks between your hands, placing your lips on his once more, feeling him pushing you up against the wall in the hallway.

Putting you down on your feet, he roughly removed the jacket from your arms, then gently helped you pull the fabric of the shirt to reveal your upper body, feeling his hands grab your bottom to carry you into the bedroom, carefully minding your head as he laid you down on the hard mattress, standing up to examine you as your chest heaved out its breath, gazing tenderly at Simon.

That did it, no doubt. The sight almost made his knees buckle; he grabbed ahold of the small wardrobe placed by the foot of the bed as he removed his jacket, lifting your back up slightly to put it behind you, your desperate lips finding their place on his neck as he bent down, stubborn legs wounding their way around his hips as you dragged him towards you like a siren.

He couldn’t help but follow, comfortably fitting his front against yours, the thin fabric of your pajama pants letting him feel you better as he strained against his jeans, the material stretched tight under his massive desire for you. Your breath hitched as he moved languidly, placing his forearm under your neck as you stared up at him through hazy eyes, a deep blush falling from your cheeks to your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he swore into the otherwise quiet room at the sight. As your eyes met, you could see the sharp eyes crease as he scrunched his eyes tight, dragging his hand that wasn’t under your head down the curves of your sides, memorizing every crevice like this was the last time he could feel it.

The room grew shrouded in the released tension, now thick with a burning want as the large man hovering over you pushed your smaller frame against his ruined mattress, shame not having the chance to fill him yet from the state of the room he was devouring you in.

You paid no mind either, letting out a cry when you felt his hand creep down between your bodies, feeling the warmth of your crotch under his thick fingers as he parted two of them, dragging their way on the side of your lips, never really touching you where you mostly wanted him to.

“I can’t do this to you.” His voice was rough, blending a deep want and a heavy twinge of regret like he was doing something completely unlawful. You stroked his temple with your nimble fingers, wiping the sweat dripping down his forehead away, caressing the skin lovingly.

“Do what, Simon?” He didn’t give you an answer as you asked him breathlessly, but you knew what he meant, feeling like this was too hasty, too quick. But you couldn’t stay away from him, and all the hurt and uncertainty he had let you face entirely on your own, it felt too good to have him near you–for him to want you.

The slow drag of his crotch against yours growing more forceful, you were brought from your thoughts, breath hitching as the large imprint of him rubbed over the material of your pants, feeling every slide grow muted as a warm shiver traveled down your back, a sting of pleasure shooting sharply up your body all the way to your fingertips.

It was numbing, the way he chased after your lips while trying to pull himself away from you, arm pulling you closer yet head pulling away from you. The internal battle he faced was visible, but your warm and caressing hand lulled him closer to you, soothing the harsh thoughts that filled his mind, the worrying that stretched the lines deep on his face.

At the same time, he panted, dragging your trousers down your thighs, refusing to pull away from you, so when he realized there was no other way, you heard the fabric tear amidst the loud ringing in your eyes from excitement.

Your eyes shot open, but before you could speak, you felt Simon’s thumb push its way into your mouth, muting your sound of protest as he buried his head in your chest. Your hands threaded through his hair as you scratched the roots in pleasure when his other hands rubbed you over your underwear, wetness seeping through the material so his fingers could glide over you more easily.

It was mind-numbing, the sparks of pleasure you felt as his calloused fingers finally met skin, dragging slowly between your folds as your panties were pushed aside.

“Oh, god!” A strangled attempt at speaking left you, mouth agape as you arched up against him, feeling a thick finger slowly wind its way into the gummy walls, clenching down on the intrusion. The feeling left you quickly, though, and as a whine of disappointment left you, you felt his finger caress your clit in soft circles, making your hips move in motion with his hand.

Swallowing your noises, Simon’s tongue wormed its way into your welcoming mouth, lips massaging yours as he grabbed your cheek with one hand gently. Running your hands under the fabric of his sweater, you grabbed the vest underneath it in discontent, trying to show him you wanted it off, unable to do it yourself as his heavy weight rendered you moveless underneath him.

His eyes, now a swirling pool of black in the dark room, gazed dangerously into yours, grabbing the end of his sweater and pushing it over his head, refusing to detach from you. As the skin of his upper body was revealed, your hands ran over every piece of skin you could find to then push against the straps, the vest detaching from its hold, Simon throwing it beside the bed in a hurry, grabbing your thighs to push the plump flesh up beside you, gazing heatedly at your puffy lips that peaked through your panties, red and tender from his fingers.

Closing his eyes, he tried to gather his clouded brain, vision unfocused as he could only make out the blissful expression on your face. Wiping his forehead, he kissed the soft skin of your thighs, feeling them stay planted firmly where he pushed them as he let go.

His hands lowered to drag down the zip of his pants, his hardness straining painfully against the fabric. As the material loosened, a sigh of relief left him. Still, then pleasure so sharp ran through him when he felt your nimble hands slowly caress the bulge in his briefs, beckoning him to retake his place in the crevice of your neck, almost biting into your skin as your hand wormed its way into his briefs.

God had imprinted your every touch into his mind, only dragging them out when nights had turned too cold or lonely. Like some depraved animal, he had imagined your hands gliding over him in the confines of this bed when he was on leave, other times imagining your fingers wrapping their way around his shaft as he found to sleep in the corner of some building, teammates only meters away as he fell into a helpless dream of you and your soft touch.

To feel you touch him like that again must have been some type of depraved joke from the devil himself, finding pleasure in the torture of knowing he would never be able to feel this again. The slow drag of your fingers down the trail of hair that led to his crotch, slowly palming the scorching shaft that pulsed against your touch, the small leak of precum making the feeling all too much for Simon to contain himself.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” He panted out, grabbing your wrist when it became too much. Instead of a noise of disappointment, the beautiful sound of your laugh clung in his ears, and when he looked up, he found you giving him a toothy smile, a blissed-out expression covering your face.

“Oh, Simon,” you said, staring warmly at him as you took in the heaving of his chest as he planted his arms beside you, covering your whole frame with his large body. Looking down, you parted your legs even more, the anticipation being too much for you to handle, wishing he would dampen the warmth spreading in the low of your stomach.

Suddenly you felt his mouth against your begging wetness, tongue laying flat against your lips as he massaged and licked striped to your red clit, mumbling incoherent words against you that only vibrated euphorically against your sensitive parts.

As you trashed underneath him, his hands wound their way under your legs, pushing your hips down to the mattress as you felt his tongue worm its way into your tightly clenched whole to then once more tease your clit with his tongue, staring up at your face as the paint around his eyes dripped with the sweat down the folds of your legs, almost eating you whole as he lapped at you.

Hitting his head lightly, you begged for him to end his torture with pleading, tear-filled eyes from the overstimulation. You felt him everywhere as he buried his face nose-deep into your heat, hands burning every part of your skin that they caressed frantically, like starved for the feeling of you underneath them.

Pushing the ball of your palm into his bulging, scar-littered shoulder when he didn’t listen, you hit him once more when you regained more power, and he pushed himself hastily above you, almost manhandling you as he removed your panties off your legs and throwing them behind him.

“Come here,” he tells you, and it isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you that your facade breaks, tears gliding languidly down your cheeks in a quiet sob as he thrusts slow and deep, pushing down your thighs until they are burning from the stretch against the mattress–spread wide for only him. Simon hummed at the thought.

Hugging his head close to you, you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your neck as the sounds of him thrusting against you echo in the room, hefty and bulky, as you feel him bullying his way into you.

You knew this was it, and for that reason, you held him tighter, trying to imprint his touch into your head–wishing to prolong this moment so it would never stop, pleading with whoever would listen to make him stay. Your pleading only turned into mindless babbling as the force of his hips pushed you further up the bed, breasts bouncing with every motion.

Hearing the words stumble from you like he remembered they always did, he cooed at you, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock as he swore. “I know love, I know.” Breathlessly, he pushed himself up on his hands, grabbing the headboard as he continued to pound into you, watching you cry out with wet cheeks.

Closing his eyes in pain, he felt his heart cramp when what he was doing passed through his mind, knowing this wasn’t fair to you. But he couldn’t stop himself from having you, for you rendered him weak in the knees every time, not sure you knew of the power you held over him.

“Simon, please,” you begged with a trembling voice, staring into his dark eyes as his breath heaved with strain, begging him not to leave you again. He kept his gaze locked with yours, face contorting in agony when he realized your face would haunt him forever, damning him for his ways. He would stay away and leave you alone–he just needed to feel you for one last time, just once more.

To avoid the hurt that started to spread in his loins at the thought, he suddenly pulled you up by your forearms as he laid on his back, pulling you into his strong embrace as he splayed you over his chest, legs on either side of his waist.

A whine left you when he entered you once again, rutting up into you with strong legs planted firmly on the mattress, feeling you glide up his body with every thrust as your head buried its way into his neck. What left you now wasn’t even moans, mouth open wide in a noiseless scream as his hips slapped loudly against yours.

Grabbing the back of your hair, he pushed your head up so you started into his eyes, trying to tell you the three words he couldn’t speak. You gave no indication of noticing, eyes flickering in both pain and lust, arms on either side of his head as he kept pushing into you.

“Stay,” you managed to get out amidst his assault on you, gripping his shoulder tightly as the coil in your stomach started to tighten almost painfully. He remained quiet as he shook his head, bringing your face closer so he could press his lips against yours.

His chapped lips fitted like a puzzle piece against yours, and your hand lifted to caress the fading scars littering the skin on his face. He hit every sweet spot inside of you, pubic bone creating heavenly friction against your sensitive nub as it rubbed together when his movements grew faster. You found it hard to breathe as he swallowed your attempts, and with one hand on your waist and the other pushing your lips against his, you felt lightheaded as you moaned out against his mouth.

Starting to hit the mattress beside you in panic, he only pushed you tighter against his robot-like motions; the feeling was entirely overwhelming as the warmth that had begun spreading low in your stomach now traveled its way throughout your whole body. Your legs lay limp on the mattress, his muscular legs moving to shove you back on the mattress, now gripping the headboard again so he could push into you with more force.

When his hand found your clit, you saw white streaks of sharp light before your eyes, arching your back of the sheets as a noiseless scream left you, wet tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you saw his eyes set intensely on you from above, your head shaking from side to side from the pleasure as you felt Simon piston in and out of you.

You didn’t want him to stop, knowing that when he did, you would never see him again. You were sure of it, felt it in how he held you and looked at you. So, when you felt the foil snap, you could only cry out as your ears started to ring, pulsating heavily around him as the cramps of your orgasm filled you with a scorching pleasure.

Every thrust of his prolongs your pleasure, still shooting through you as you fall backward, limp under Simon’s still forceful thrusts.

“That’s it, love.” Panting above you, he fell into your arms, rutting heavily against you as he wound his arms around your waist, finding strength in his muscular legs to keep his hips going, grunting audibly against your neck as you kept clenching around him. “Give it to me. Only me,” he mumbled against your wet skin, delirious from being in your embrace he so had missed.

“Only you, Simon. It will always,” you hiccuped. “Always be you.” The sobbing, blissed-out words coming from you were the final straw, his thrusts growing harder but slowing down as he bit into the skin of your neck, knuckles turning white from gripping your waist as his face contorted.

The pleasure kept roaming through him as he kept on moving inside you, prolonging the feeling as his cum rimmed around where his cock entered you, dribbling down you in heaps as it kept coming, stuffing you to the brim.

Spent, you feel the heavy weight of Simon relaxing against you, staying inside you as he tries to regain his breath–not wanting to part from you. A shaking hand found your trembling ones, intertwining them as he caressed the back of it with his thumb, reveling in how your hand caressed the skin of his back, shivers running down it as he basked in the afterglow of being one with you.

Your already heavy eyelids tried to keep open, refusing to let him slip out of your fingers, but your body had grown spent as it strained against the sleep wounding its way through you.

“Simon,” you mumbled, voice almost inaudible as he brought your hand to rest with his beside your head, humming at you, the vibrating of his chest lulling you closer to sleep. As it surrounded you forcefully, you could only let the last teardrop fall from your eyes, knowing he was seeping out of your grasp like dust.

–

The cold was seeping through you the moment you woke up, shivers wrecking through you as the bleak walls stared back at you–the blanket wrapped around you doing nothing to protect you from the chill. In a daze, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes tiredly, trying to regain focus as you coddled the blanket closer to your body.

That’s when the horror spread through you, head trashing wildly as you gazed around you while taking in your surroundings. A familiar, worn-down apartment stared back at you, the night dark outside as you gasped, fearing being left alone in his eerie apartment.

“Simon!” You yelled out, voice trembling as you stepped onto the wooden planks of the floor, shielding yourself with the blanket as you bolted through the hallway into the kitchen, finding it empty as you trashed open the door to the bathroom.

Your heart picked up its pace, feeling like someone had shot you right through the chest when you realized you were by yourself–completely and utterly alone, and he had left you just like you knew he would.

“Simon!” You belted out once again, leaning towards the wall in distress as the cries grew soundless as the power of it traveled up your throat, feeling it constrict until the wails filled the empty space, sobs leaving you as you grabbed your heart in agony.

By some sort of hope, you had wished he would stay even though you knew it was inevitable, but as you took notice, that wasn’t the case. Once again, the warmth of his hands had left you, forcing you to come to terms with living the bleak years of your life without him in your life, disappearing–never to return to your embrace again.

As you stood there, sobbing with cheeks red with tears, you damned yourself for loving him in the first place, for letting him step into your life once more when you were finally moving forward with your life. Unable to take the pain, you slide down the wall, glancing up at the walls as the ghost of him starts to loom over you, his shadow growing more fierce–more apparent–as you cover your head, unwilling to face reality any longer.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #cod imagine #Hurt no comfort

[unyieldingvalxr]

(Elsie) ???? + Do you think maybe you're going after Tarleton so much because you want to join his side?

"This is without a doubt the oddest contraption." Quizzical, Elsie's gaze beheld the ball. It is cautiously rolled left to right in her hands as she lets her eyes inspect it. She's never seen anything quite like it before-- a ball that determined important choices. It seemed --more child's play than anything to be seriously utilized. So she decides to make the inquiry as expected.

"Do I wanna join Bloody Tarleton's side?" Comes her inquiry. Whilst she already knew the answer tucked deep within her heart, she gives the ball a shake as instructed.

Sea-glass orbs draw into a squint as she lets herself read the given answer. "Outlook not so good." A whimsical smirk graces her lips. Doing her best to look dignified rather than impressed, Elsie continued. "Well what's the point'a askin' this here, if ya already had ya answer? Tis not like this---- whatccha-ma-call it can predict much a'anythin'. Now, I woulda been more impressed if it told me somethin' like how many men the enemy had traipsing' bout these here swamps."

#answered ask #Elsie Marion #Wheezes #It's right on this account but Elsie's like -- while I'm impressed a ball knows my stance on this war---- can't it be better and tell me #how many enemies are in my swamps #or like where the enemy is hiding?

[funnybido]

Sans is Bido is legit but you know Greed 100% gave Bido a proper burial he would NEVER have left him in the pipes 😭😭😭

listen you are so right but also i think if i try to come up with  a funny drawing for this ask i will simply just Cry for a very long time. so for that reason i will not attempt it. i hope you understand

#thank you though!!!!! #also we all know the real sans of fma is barry the chopper #official funny bido non-art #official funny bido asks #anon #glasses orb makes an inquiry

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Hey! You know they prompt with the m!companions waking up after spending the night with some and don’t find them in the bed? Could you do that with F!!companions too? No pressure! /gen

Female!FO4 Companions react to Waking Up Alone After Spending the Night with Sole.

Sooooo, thank you so much for asking for this, cuz I had written about half of it, and then totally forgotten about it until I got this ask, so you are awesome!

This is the second installment to this post (M!FO4 Companions with this prompt) and there will be a part with FO3 and FONV companions as well... eventually 😅

I hope you all enjoy! (And I sincerely apologize in advance for the ridiculous length of this thing [Cait's in particular], I don't know what happens, I think I have a problem. But I super appreciate all of you who stick around to read it all, each and every one of you have my heart.)

Cait:

     A dull ache persisted in Cait's muscles when she stirred beneath the sheets, she scrunched her eyebrows together as her lids rose to reveal the still dark, still disheveled hotel room. What the hell happened last night? The question briefly flashed across her mind before she recalled it. Recalled everything. Cait groaned, stretching out over the mattress, fully prepared to reunite with her lover, to wake you up in the best of ways, to touch you and be with you the way she had been last night.

Fuck. Last night… How the hell had it taken the two of you so long to do that?

Damn trust issues. Can’t they just leave me alone? Look at the good that happens when ya just let me be.

Last night had been the first time you two had been together, the first time the two of you had been intimate, and open, and honest, and real. For the first time in… hell, as long as she could remember, Cait had been her authentic self. Untainted by the venom she had injected into her veins for so long, unaffected by the liquid crutch she frequently relied on to bar her from facing herself. Even her vast insecurities hadn’t been able to touch her amid the bliss of her night with you. Because you had been authentic too, you weren’t trying to impress her, or pressure her, you didn’t pass judgement on her level of experience, didn’t berate her for her roughness, for engaging in your intimate act the only way she knew how, the only way it had ever happened when someone else initiated it, as it had always been for her. She couldn’t understand it herself, the way you’d been so patient with her, had communicated with her through everything, focused on her comfort, and her pleasure… It was so foreign to her, so unfamiliar in comparison to every other person she had been with. The act she had engaged in so many times before almost felt… new.

“Alright, what do ya say, luv? You still sore, or d’ya want to give it another go?” She shifted abruptly, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she turned to your side of the bed, green eyes glittering with ill intent, before surprise washed over them. Crimson brows rose high over the wide emerald orbs and she felt her nostrils flare unwittingly at the sight of your distinct absence.

Instantly, she wished she hadn’t turned to try and look at you. Wished that she could’ve stayed facing away just a little longer, where she could safely revel in the bliss of your night together without any consequences. She could have gazed out over the ruined hotel room, could have blushed uncharacteristically as she relived last night’s… rearrangement of all the furniture in the room. Could have kept imagining you there beside her, just as sore and worn out, but just as ready to see where this would go next. Now though…

Cait at least had the courtesy to glance around the space surrounding her before making any quick judgements, but the room was a fucking small one, and it took all of a moment to see that she was truly alone in it. Not only that, but everything belonging to you was gone too.

Now this. This shit I remember. This is all too familiar.

Normally she would have been relieved to wake up alone. It always meant she could have some peace, that she could wake up on her own terms, without harassment or expectation, without prying hands roughly dragging her from her dreams and slamming her back down into her nightmarish reality. But with you… shit was different. Even more painful than waking up next to someone she feared and despised was waking up without you by her side. The truth was like a flaming brand being pressed mercilessly to her chest, making plain to herself and everyone around her that she was hurt. That you had hurt her. She never thought the day would come.

Cait had come to the realization last night that you might be the only person who’s put her before yourself, who’s done something kind for her, who’s helped her without expecting anything in return. She came to the realization that she trusted you. More than anyone else in her life, more than Tommy, more than her own damn parents; she thought you were the only person who would never hurt her. The fact that she had been wrong made her want to spit. To curse, and fight the darkness that began to claw its way back into her heart. The same darkness you had helped expel in that vault.

She shook her head vigorously. Red hair catching in her damp eyelashes as she ground her teeth together until they ached. She wanted to scream. But dammit, she wasn’t going to let anyone know that this shit bothered her. Wasn't going to let them pity her at the sight of the hot brand you'd left on her heart when she realized you were gone.

No, she wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t let anyone hear the sounds of anguish spilling from her lips. The walls of the hotel room were paper thin, as the two of you had discovered last night after some… complaints had been issued. But Vadim had been a good sport about it. Cait wished she could look back on the memory fondly, but the glow of her euphoria was tainted red and black. An infected wound festering deep in the pit of her stomach, the hollow of her chest, the recesses of her mind.

Cait tore the blankets from her body, the thin material sticking to her sweat-dampened skin as she clambered off the mattress and began to rage around the room, snatching bits of clothing from their places on the floor and furniture. She roughly jerked up her trousers and buttoned up her corset, the action proving to be difficult as her chest expanded with her ragged inhalations. Through her fury-fogged mind, she tried to come up with a plan. Where would she go now that she didn't have you? Surely you wouldn't return to her after this. You'd gotten what you wanted, apparently; and if she was honest, she'd rather never see your face again after you'd done this to her. Made her feel this way. Made her feel filthy, and angry, and foolish, and used. Cait released a verbal sound of disgust as she threw together the last of her things. Shouldering her pack, she prepared to leave the room. Sorry Yefim, I can't be in here another fucking second. You'll have to put the furniture back yourself.

Cait slammed the hotel room door behind her, brows set low, heart pounding audibly against her chest as she loitered in front of the door, thinking about where to go next. What to do next. She couldn’t return to the combat zone, what would Tommy think? What would he say? She didn’t much care, but she didn’t want to find out either. Without Sole, what the hell was there out there for her? A flash of her potential future crossed her consciousness and she briefly saw herself crammed into some seedy corner of a bar somewhere, offering her muscle in return for some meager bits of tin, which she’d more than likely use to buy herself yet another drink at the next dive she found herself in. A vicious cycle, free of ambition, free of fulfillment, free of enjoyment… and yet, that future was more than she had ever expected for herself just a few short months ago. Back then, she would’ve given her left arm for a chance at that life, because at least she would be free. But now… you had changed everything. Helped her get clean, helped her drag herself out of the chasm her parents had forced her to dig herself into from the moment she was old enough to hold a shovel. She had wanted more for her life since meeting you. Had expected more. By your side, she had had more. And now you’d torn that away from her too, and though she wanted with every raging fiber of her being to be able to prove to you, to everyone, that she didn’t need anyone’s help to achieve that sort of life, she knew that, with you gone, reverting back to her old ways was damn near inevitable. Her jaw clenched at the thought, and she bit back a growl at the pain spreading in her chest.

Fuck this. I need a drink.

She let her hand fall from the doorknob to the now empty hotel room and made her way to the liquor counter at the Dugout Inn. Her expression drove away any potential for conversation as she sat at her stool, knocking back her full glass of whiskey. Even Vadim had stayed quiet, his usual bawdy personality remained muted as he poured her another glass and set it on the counter in front of her.

Even the bittersweet taste of her own reckless self-enablement couldn't expel the burning poison that had settled in her gut since her discovery that you had left her alone. And although she didn't have a single fucking clue what she was going to do next, that didn't seem to be what bothered her, as the whiskey began to cloud her mind and her judgement. No, it wasn't what she was going to do, it was what you were going to do. Where would you go without her? Alright, fine, you'd had your way with her, used her for your pleasure and then ran, but where to? And why do I care so damn much? A small voice asked her in the back of her mind. She decided not to grace its inquiry with a conscious answer.

Instead, she rose from her stool, slammed down a handful of caps on the counter, and half expected Vadim to ask where the room payment was, but he just smiled as he slid his hand over the pile of tin and drew it closer to him, to stash it away behind the bar. It didn't matter that Cait had no idea where she was going, she just had to leave this place. The alcohol that was meant to distract her, to numb the throbbing ache in her chest, only seemed to enhance her pain as her over exaggerated emotions surrounding the night the two of you had shared came pouring to the front of her mind. She was pissed. But not at you anymore. Was it herself? Why would she be pissed at herself? It's not like it was her fault you decided to fucking leave… Or...

Cait shook her head vigorously, pausing at the exit into Diamond City as she tried to straighten her crooked thoughts. Was it something I did? Is that why you left? Was I… not good enough? Too good? Too rough? Too unemotional? God, she sounded so whiney and insecure. Felt so insecure, so vulnerable, so guilty, so filthy.

Still trapped in her troubling thoughts, Cait attempted to finally leave the inn, letting the door slam shut behind her as she set off brusquely towards the gate leading out to the Commonwealth. She hardly noticed the body trailing her, splitting off from the crowd in the city center, and following her at an aggressive pace akin to her own. When the hand grasped at her shoulder, she almost turned around swinging, prepared to knock the teeth out of whoever decided it was a decent idea to fucking touch her right now. But her fist stilled in its clenched position beside her body, as her forest eyes widened in surprise at the person standing in front of her.

You?

You…

You!

Instead of swinging her prepared fist directly into your face, she brought up both arms, shoving them forward harshly against your shoulders, forcing you a few feet backwards, likely bruising you in the process.

"Fuck off, Sole." Was all she could manage before she turned away, back towards the gate. What the hell was she supposed to make of this?! You were gone. But now you were here? It doesn't matter now, because you could never take back the way you made her feel when she woke up alone in that dingy fucking hotel room.

"Hey!" She heard you call from behind, but she pressed on, even as your footsteps echoed behind her.

"Cait, wait! Just hold on a second. Where are you going?" Even when words failed you, it seemed the stubbornness she admired so much prevailed, as you gruffly wrenched her to the side, pulling her into the alcove behind the Publick Occurrences building.

"I can explain."

Cait wrenched her arm from your grasp, attempting to turn away, her emerald eyes blazing as they refused to acknowledge you.

"Cait, please. I swear, I was coming right back. I wasn't going to just--" you tried to explain, but she silenced you with her searing look as her head lashed towards you once more.

"I thought I told you to fuck off. Ya can't justify this shite to me, Sole. I know what the hell you were playin’ at. You fucking used me, and if that's all ye kept me round for, then you can just leave me alone. Ye got what ye wanted, didn't ya?” Your mouth hung open as you waited to get a word in, but the redhead continued, a menacingly somber expression creasing the lines of her face, “At least the assholes that used me before did it because I was their slave. You actually had me thinkin' you cared about me.” She said quietly, her gaze falling to the floor as the weight of her realization fell upon her.

“Well, you can forget I was ever even here. I'm done." Her eyes snapped back to yours before she went to turn away from you once again.

You were rendered momentarily speechless by her accusations. You wondered how the hell she couldn't know how you felt about her, especially after last night. You thought you'd made it pretty damn clear.

You didn't speak, you needed to use action now, as she started towards the gate, you reached out your hand, grasping firmly at her upper arm and wrenching her towards you. Into you. And even as she tried to pull away, to tear herself from your firm grip, you pulled her in for a kiss. It was sloppy, your teeth clacked together painfully and your mind began to demand why you'd done it at all, but as you pulled away from it quickly, you knew why. As Cait recovered from the surprise contact, you finally managed to get a few words in.

"I do care about you." You told her, your forceful hold on her arm giving way to a more gentle, but still unyielding, touch. "I wasn't trying to leave you. I had to speak to Arturo about that mod I wanted to get for your shotgun, remember? He said we had to do it before he opened, but you were still asleep. I-- I didn't want to wake you. I was coming right back, Cait. I would never leave you, never use you like that. I'm not like them, I could never-- I just, God, do you really think I could do that to you?" Cait's eyes met your own, the emerald fires in their depths wavering to smoldering coals as she saw the hurt shining in your gaze. Your upturned brows, the concern etched into your features, your soft touch on her arm being pulled away slowly; Cait could see the pain in your every movement, the pain at her accusation, and the pain at realizing what little she thought of herself.

Even just a moment ago, her answer would have been different, but at the desperation in you eyes, your will for her to see the truth behind your words, she couldn't bring herself to say what her mind wanted her to. What, after so many years of abuse and horror and mistrust, it had defaulted to saying in the event that anyone could actually tell her they cared for her. Her mind wanted to deny your confession the same way it denied any kind words that were directed towards her, in order to protect her heart from another brutal beating, but this time, it was her heart that seemed to prevail.

"No." She said softly, "I guess I didn't think ye could do that to me. Can't ya see? That's what made it hurt so damn much. I never thought you'd do that shite to me. And then, when I woke up an you were gone, I just… It just didn’t make any fuckin’ sense." She brought a hand up to wipe at her face, maybe to hide the lower lip that began to tremble at her words. 

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t you even think about it, ya damn baby. Cait tore her hand away, looking to you for some kind of response as she tried to harden her expression once more.

“I’m so sorry, Cait." You told her, taking one of her hands in your own to punctuate everything you had to say, "It’ll never happen again. I swear. I never want to hurt you ever again.”

The brawler felt a lightness in her chest at your words, words that she had never heard anyone say to her before, as you promised something so alien to her ears that she almost thought she had heard you wrong. She felt her heartbeat pick up as her eyes met yours again, the fire all but subdued as the weight of what you’d said sunk in. You promised to never hurt me... She didn’t know what to say, but she had to say something.

“Yeah? Well, it had better not happen again.” You grinned at that, releasing a breath of amusement and relief as Cait's own half-smile played at her lips. “Alright lassie/lad, care fer a drink? I think I might need another after all this.” She pulled her hand from your grasp and encircled your shoulders with her arm as she started off towards the Dugout Inn once again.

“Another?” You asked, brows raised, and the woman beside you just chuckled.

Curie:

     Goose prickles peppered uncomfortably over Curie’s exposed skin as a chill ran through her body. Being cold was a sensation that she was still quite unused to; however, even from her limited experience, she had to say, she wasn’t a fan. Curie let out a soft whine as she shifted beneath the thin blanket that snaked around her body, reaching out one arm to slide over the mattress in search of you, and your warmth.

“Mon Dieu?” She ventured softly, eyes still half closed as she peered around the hills of fabric upon the mattress. Sitting up, Curie rubbed at her sleep-filled eyes, still groggy from her hours of rest. Yet another human tendency that I must become more accustomed to. Her hands dropped to her lap as she turned her head to either side, eyebrows creasing together in confusion at the realization that she was alone.

“Sole?” She called, her uncertainty making her voice higher than usual. Perhaps you have gone to relieve yourself, as humans often tend to do after sleeping... Curie stretched her arms upwards before gathering the covers around her, effectively cocooning herself atop your bed, and sat waiting for you to return. Her eyes moved slowly as she took in the room around her. She had hardly gotten a good look last night, and before this, she had never been here before. At least, had never been in your room, but from what she could see in the dim light, it was pretty similar to the others. Curie thought that she never would return to Vault 81, considering the amount of time she had spent here, she figured she had had her fill of the place, but when the radiation storm hit, and the vault was the closest shelter you could think of, she couldn’t argue with the logic of the two of you waiting out the storm here. And she was glad she hadn’t tried. If she had insisted on taking shelter elsewhere, who knows what would have happened? You could have developed radiation sickness, or encountered some form of hostilities, or been stuck wandering and searching for shelter elsewhere all night long! But you hadn’t, no, the two of you had instead done other things all night long.

Curie's spine tingled as she noticed her heart skip a beat in her chest, and she felt her eyes crinkle up as she grinned, clutching the bed sheets tightly in her hands at the thought of the night you two had shared. The way your soft, sweet lips had pressed to hers, giving way to a cacophony of glorious, and thrillingly unfamiliar sensations. She recalled a gentleness, a sort of calm before the storm; dipping her toe into a pool of water, before wading in up to her knees, only to delve straight into the swirling, tumbling sea without a second glance back to the shore.

She had wanted, more than anything, to experiment in such a way with you, but she had been so unsure with how to proceed. So, when you had pressed your lips to hers gently in the night, and whispered that you wanted to do with her what she had been dreaming of since she first laid her human eyes upon you, Curie could barely contain her enthusiasm. All she wanted now was to be close to you once more, to discuss all that she had learned last night. About herself, and about you; but not because she wished to document it. No, this was not for research purposes, as she had once thought it would be, for there was nothing clinical about what the two of you had done together. At least, not in Curie’s eyes. To her, it was much, much more than a science. It was a feeling. It was… more, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, but something that made her stomach drop and her heart leap in her chest. Is it… could it be what they call… love?

It felt like hours that Curie was sitting there on the bed, awaiting your return. The time was comparable to the near 200 years she had spent alone on the other side of this very same vault. The synth found herself feeling conflicted about a number of things in this instance. She wasn't sure how she felt about Vault 81 anymore. She thought she couldn't stand the place before; however, last night she wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world, but now, she couldn't wait to leave this place and go out to find you. She felt as though, if she stayed, she would be unable to leave once again, held here in this spot for another couple centuries; and maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if you were here with her, but… That was yet another item on her agenda of conflicting emotions to consider. Here Curie sat, completely alone, feeling as though she may be in love for the first and only time in her existence and you were just… gone. This was arguably the most important discovery she had ever made, and she wanted nothing more than for you to be here to help her make sense of this breakthrough of hers. Curie felt as though she had finally reached the level of inspiration required to achieve something great in the field of science, and it was all because of you. But she was still… confused? She couldn't imagine your reason for leaving, had she done something wrong? She had never done anything like this before, so it wouldn't be entirely surprising if she hadn't been particularly skilled in the acts of intimacy, but she certainly had felt good enough… had you not? Or perhaps this was customary for people to do after their first time being together in such a way? If that was the case, Curie would need an explanation as to why it had to be this way. Why you had to be gone when she felt she needed to be near you so urgently.

At that moment, Curie decided she needed to get out of this room, to look for you, yes, but also to prove to herself that she could, in fact, leave any time that she wished. To prove to herself that she wasn't going to be imprisoned here again. Curie sucked in a breath as she uncovered her bare body and exposed her skin to the chill of the recycled vault air. Quickly, she found her garments, some scattered on the floor, others wrapped in the mess of covers on the bed; and her theory regarding your disappearance was further confirmed as she found none of your own clothes in the places you had left them last night. She released a shaky breath, mumbling incoherently to herself as she often did in stressful situations, as she packed her bag in preparation to leave the vault. When she went to reach for the laser pistol that you had gifted her when she had become a synth, she noticed something that didn't quite add up. Your bag was still near the door… so perhaps, you hadn't left the vault after all? Curie's heart leaped in her chest, and in that next moment, she had dropped her travel bag, and was quickly moving towards the door that led out into the common area of the vault. As the doors slid to a close behind her, Curie's head whipped from side to side, aqua eyes passing over the monochrome hallways as she sought you out, searching for a 111 rather than an 81 among the sea of blue suits. Her eyes came to rest toward the elevator as she heard it grinding downwards, and she started towards it expectantly at the sound, before pausing abruptly when she heard her name being called from behind.

Her head swung back around to see you jogging towards her from the far end of the vault, a flush at your cheeks and a small smile decorating your sweet lips.

"And where are you running off to?” You said as you reached the synth, “You couldn't possibly leave me after--"

"Mon cheri! I was missing you this morning!" Curie's words echoed loudly off the steel walls surrounding the two of you as her excitement forced the words from her mouth at an unreasonable volume for your close proximity. Her relief at seeing you left her utterly unashamed at the blatant enthusiasm she had for your return. So much so, that she was even feeling bold enough to close the space between the two of you, her arms wrapping tightly around you as she buried her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your comforting and familiar scent. You only just had time to return her embrace before she pulled away, her arms unraveling around your neck as she brought both hands up to caress your face. Her bright eyes seemed to glitter as they peered deeply into your own, her elated expression infectious as her thumbs stroked over your cheeks gently. Curie opened her mouth, as though she were about to speak, but when your gaze fell to rest upon her parted lips, she couldn't help but lean forward until she felt your mouth on her own. The kiss was sweet and soft, expelling Curie's chill as the contact warmed her from the inside out. As you pulled away slowly, still a little baffled by the sudden contact, you opened your eyes in time to notice her fluttering lashes and pink dusted cheekbones as a flustered grin spread onto her face.

"What timing you have, mon amour," she said, eyes still locked to yours, "I so urgently felt the need to speak to you, for I have just made zhe most brilliant discovery!"

Piper:

     Piper had never had a dream like that before. It had felt so real. It left her flustered and out of breath as she stirred groggily among the blankets in the loft of her Diamond City home. 

She could still feel the warmth of another's skin pressed against hers, taste the salt of sweat on her lips, feel the shuddering jolt of her pleasure shooting up her spine. It all felt so genuine, so memorable, it was as though… No. It couldn’t be… with you? 

As Piper dipped into her post-slumber conscious reality, she felt a distinct soreness in her body that nearly confirmed her sub-conscious assumption. But she had to know for sure. Piper imagined she would have to wrench open her eyes in order to verify her prediction, but as she took a deep breath in through her nose, and your familiar scent, accompanied by the distinct musty smell that happened to permeate the room after such activities occurred made itself known, she couldn’t have kept her eyes closed if she had tried. 

They flew open as an excited squeak escaped her, and she pulled the covers off from where they obstructed her needy hazel-green gaze. 

“Blue?” She tried, speaking quietly, but unable to keep the elation from her voice. “Pssst, hey, you awake yet?” Her hands gathered up the blankets beside her, drawing them away from where she assumed they were covering your sleeping form. But they just kept coming, she pulled and pulled, gathering more fabric between her fingers, spilling the material up over her own body until the mattress was revealed. The empty mattress. She cocked an eyebrow at the sight, a question she silently posed to the barren space where you were meant to be. Where her subconscious and conscious self both had practically guaranteed you would be. Now, the reporter was confused. 

Deciding that this was perhaps not the most ideal angle for exploration, she raised up into a sitting position, flattening her wild hair with one hand as the other kept the covers drawn up around her. 

“Blue?” She questioned a little louder. Maybe you’re downstairs… fixing breakfast? It wouldn’t surprise her. You had always been thoughtful in that way, always seeming to look out for everyone but yourself. Damn that was sexy. Piper couldn’t remember the last person she had felt this way about. Maybe there wasn’t one. No, there really was no one like her Blue; you were the closest friend she’d ever had, you trusted her, you always believed her, believed in her, you spoke to her like a person, like a friend, like someone you genuinely cared about; not like a nosy little reporter, or a pain in your ass, which is how pretty much everyone else in the world decided she was supposed to be talked to. The more she thought about it, the more it became clear to her. There wasn’t anyone like you. It was literally just you, and the fact that you and her had been together in such a way last night? Unbelievable. Incredible, dreamlike, fantastic, and perfect, yes, but completely unbelievable. Wasn’t she too overbearing? Too loud? Too stubborn, and fiery, and hot-headed? 

From the moment she met you, she thought you could only ever see her in a certain way, as the scrappy, over-emotional, noisy reporter who had gotten herself locked out of the damn gate to the damn place that she freaken lived in. You had helped her, sure, and that was amazing, but she thought you’d never want to see her again after the encounter. However, as it turns out, she had been wrong. Mercifully, she had been wrong. Piper had never imagined that you would take her up on her offer to interview you, but when Nat had pulled you through the door, a firm grip locked around your wrist as she dragged you forward, and you had smiled at her, and agreed enthusiastically to answer her questions, she couldn’t help but flash her own silly grin over at you, desperate to try and hold back the joyous little giggle that threatened to escape her lips. 

Even now, still seated upon the bed, Piper smiled to herself as she poured over her memories with you. Everything was so vivid when you were around. Black and white, white and black, the occasional grey and off-white, that was all the reporter ever seemed to see in her life, but with you… everything was vibrant. The world wasn’t quite so corrupt and unforgiving, the people around her weren’t so dismissive, so closed off, even when the weather seemed too cold to bear, the light in your eyes would warm her from the inside out, the sky was never a muted tone when she was with you, it was always a bright cacophony of warm and cool colors that melded together to form a perfect blue. And the brilliance, the dizzying, lucid radiance of the night the two of you had shared had put all other colors she could possibly imagine to shame. 

Her whole body suddenly felt so warm at the sentiment, and she couldn’t stand to be bundled in blankets any longer. She had been too busy wrapped up in her own memories to even register that you hadn’t responded to her calling for you, but she shrugged it off, assuming maybe that she simply hadn’t heard your response. Piper climbed out of bed, letting the covers fall unceremoniously onto the mattress as she quickly grabbed clean clothes from her dresser. She dressed rapidly, the voice in the back of her mind posing a question that her consciousness didn’t want to acknowledge. Instead, she thought about how funny it was that she felt so embarrassed about you potentially seeing her in the nude; since, surely, you had gotten quite the eyeful last night.

But it was dark then! She thought, nodding and chuckling to herself as she prepared to make her way downstairs. At the top, looking downward, Piper paused. Listening for any movement from below, she was almost tempted to call for you again. But something caused her to hesitate. It’s that voice again, the one that wanted to ask… No, I’m not going to think about that.

The reporter forced herself to take the first step, the wood creaking in protest below her feet as she descended to the first floor. The sound was almost like a warning to her, encouraging her to turn back the way she had come, cursing her for taking a step towards the potential disappointment that awaited her at the bottom of the stairs.

Piper tried to seem perky, but her enthusiasm was waning with every moment she spent away from you; and as she peered around the ground floor, she realized that that pesky little question she had tried to push away from her conscious self was finally answered. You were gone.

The woman’s heart sank. Her brain suddenly pelting her with question after question as to why you could have done this. When had you decided that she wasn’t what you wanted? Had she been so horrible that she completely reversed the feelings you told her you had for her? Had you never cared for her in the first place? Had you just lied to get her in bed with you? If that were the case, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to see you again. No, she was sure it would just end in a shouting match and her potentially trying to tear your pretty eyes from your useless skull. So, she… couldn’t do that, no, people thought she was crazy enough as is. But she is a reporter… and this, what you did to her, the way you made her feel, the way you used her body and toyed with her emotions, that was a crime. She had written about crimes countless times, she could do it again... But would that even be enough to make her feel less... Angry? Hurt? Idiotic?

Argh, she was so furious! With herself, with the situation, with you, but now she wasn’t sure if what she thought was your reason for leaving was even the truth, maybe she was imagining it. What if you were out there somewhere feeling hurt like she was? Or, feeling unheard or, or neglected? She didn’t know why you would be feeling that way, but there’s always two sides to a story, and she had to think that you would have had an at least halfway decent explanation for your actions. 

What about last night though? Didn’t you feel the same way she felt? She didn’t see how you could feel any differently.  

She could only wonder at all of her rhetorical questions that were begging to be answered, but just not by her. Maybe if she found you and requested an interview again… Hmmm.

Piper didn’t know if it would work, didn’t know if she could even find you, if you would agree to an interview at all, but it was a plan, at least; and for her to know the truth of the situation, it was definitely worth a try. 

The reporter thought up her questions as she gathered together her things, trying to come up with inquiries that didn’t seem too one-sided, or confrontational, or passive aggressive; but other thoughts kept interrupting her. At some point, she knew Nat would be home from her friend’s house, she should probably wash the sheets on her mattress, she hadn’t eaten anything yet, there was no food in the house, she still needed to proofread her next story, ugh! This was not what she needed today! You had always been so supportive of her, of the paper, of her taking care of Nat, of… just her in general, her as a person, as a reporter, as a friend, and traveling companion. You had been supportive last night, had let her be vulnerable, and confident in herself, and free of any judgement. You’d made her feel good about herself in a way she never had before. And yet, you fucking left. God, it made her crazy, because she just didn’t understand. It didn’t add up, all of the evidence, the important details at the front of her mind all pointed to a different sort of conclusion. One that ended with you in the dang bed next to her the morning after you had made her feel like she could write an epic poem detailing every blissful feeling you had elicited in her. And she didn’t even write poetry!

By the time her bag was packed, Piper’s stomach was growling, she was tired again, tired and hungry and angry and sad, and every negative base emotion a person could feel. But she forced herself up the couple of steps it took to get to the exit door, reaching out her hand for the doorknob, she prepared to go out and find you. To find you, and then question you. 

In the next instance, the door was pushing her back down the stairs gruffly as it opened directly into her.  

“Ow! Hey!” She said as she was thrown backwards by the impact. Piper gruffly reached up her hands, trying to adjust her hat back onto her head properly as the body in front of her moved through the door. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Piper! Are you alright?” 

Piper paused with her hands still over her head, and looked up quickly at the sound of your voice. At first, she thought it had been Nat who decided to beat her with her own door, but, as you stood in the doorway, an apologetic smile on your face, and a shopping bag in your hand, she couldn’t deny the fact that it really was you who had just barged into her. 

You didn’t leave. You weren’t gone. She thought giddily, impulsively throwing her arms around your shoulders in her relief. For just a moment, her questions and anger could wait.

“Aw, Piper, I wasn’t gone that long. But I missed you too.” you giggled at her, drawing your own encumbered arms around her to reciprocate to the best of your abilities, “And I’m glad you forgive me for the concussion I just gave you.” 

“Where were you?” Piper asked, almost aggressively as she pulled away, still standing close enough to keep you trapped between her and the door. 

“I just had to grab some supplies from the mark--”

“And you couldn’t wait until I woke up? Do you know the kind of state you had me in this morning?! Geeze, Blue, you really are clueless sometimes, huh?”

“No! I’m sorry I was gone, but I… Here, I brought home some breakfast. I wanted to surprise you.”

You held up the bag in your hand, showcasing the clear outline of soup containers and the distinct mark of Takahashi. 

“O--oh, well, that was… um, that was really nice of you, Blue. I…”

You just smiled at her and her apologetic expression, beginning your descent past Piper and down the couple of stairs towards the couch where the two of you could enjoy your breakfast.  

“It’s okay Piper. I’m sorry too.” You said looking back at her as you placed the bag down on the coffee table. And your companion just grinned.

#fallout #fallout companions #fallout companions reacts #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 companions reacts #fallout 4 companions react #fallout 4 companions reactions #fo4 reacts #fo4 #fallout cait #cait fo4 #cait #fallout curie #curie fo4 #curie #fallout piper #piper fo4 #piper wright #sole survivor #sole

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.6

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (4.3k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, graphic depictions of violence and blood

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, January 26 

The sound of birds chirping is the first thing you hear in the morning. 

You slowly rise from the bed and rub your swollen eyes, a low yawn escaping your lips in the process. Blinking a mere couple of times, your vision slowly falls back into focus and you glance around a bit bewildered. 

It’s almost like there’s a haze over your mind, contentment gracing you in the form of absolute vigor. Your shoulders feel lighter, and there’s no rapid racing of your heart, your regular pace of breathing leaving your lungs. 

Your pupils suddenly twinkle and you whip around, only to be met with a bed that is half empty. 

A sharp pang of disappointment instantly washes over you. 

“Miss Y/N?” 

Your head raises to the foreign sight of someone leaning down, staring down at you intently. You nearly stagger back, alarmed from the intrusion. 

“I-I didn’t mean to startle you!” She hurriedly assures. You recall seeing her while Namjoon was talking to the company’s shareholders, remembering his inquiry about hiring a new maid. 

“It’s alright.” You clear your throat, attempting to conceal your dismay. Unfortunately, it appears that you seem to be doing a terrible job at it. 

“Master Kim left early this morning because of an urgent matter.” She clarifies right away, noticing the way it brings light to your eyes. Softly smiling, she continues, “He requested I stay here with you to make sure you were feeling alright.” 

You slowly nod, “I understand.... But I’d like to be left alone for a while.” 

Peering up to see her expression, she shakes her head right away, granting you with some privacy. The moment the door is closed on her way out, you squeeze your eyes shut. 

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you rise from the bed, moving your belongings around as you fish out for a familiar plastic box. 

***

Even though your stomach churns and a bitter taste lingers in your mouth, you force your hands to keep drumming against the plastic, responding to the spurts of static it lets out. You’ve forgotten how many times you’ve fisted your hair in the process, leaks of more and more information involuntarily leaving you. 

You’re near the end of your message relay, desperate for it to be over already. However, that’s when a certain line of static comes through, your eyes widening dramatically. 

W-What? 

A heavy knock pounds against the plastic and your pupils dart around manically, stance freezing up as you wait for the response. 

The same static pattern resonates through. 

“N-No…” You whisper. It has to be a mistake, it has to be.

But regardless, you need to know more. A series of frantic knocks resonate through the room, only for a chain of static to come through immediately. Before you have the chance to relay something back in exchange, it abruptly cuts off and despair spreads through your features. 

You weren’t given an option. 

You were given an order. 

Legs quivering as your rise, a set of instructions repeat themselves over and over again in your mind like a vicious loop. Walking aimlessly like on autopilot, you scavenge through your clothes before locating a particular suitcase you had brought in prior to moving. It was one piece of luggage that you didn’t get the luxury of packing yourself, thrust into your hands instead. 

Fumbling around with the handful of zippers and pockets, your hands roam around until they feel a sharp prick. Your breath instantly hitches and once you unzip the compartment, the cool metal meets your fingertips instantly. 

Carefully taking it out, your eyes transfixed with horror onto the gun resting within the palm of your hand. Swallowing hard, you slowly rise to your feet and take a step back. 

Stopping right at the corner of the bed, your orbs oscillate as they land right on top of the opposite side from your own.

You tear your eyes away, a harsh gasp leaving your lips. That’s when the shining and translucent object catches your line of vision and you hesitantly step forward towards the dresser, confronted with the sight of your own reflection. 

Your complexion is extremely pale, small dark bags lining the bottom of your orbs and a sickly tint coating your lips. It dawns upon you how much the lack of sleep and being constantly on edge have morphed you into something you’re not accustomed to seeing, but once your gaze flickers up to your eyes, you freeze. 

The mirror surprisingly reflects something there that you haven’t seen there for quite some time, something that was snatched away from you the moment you took on this grave task. 

Why...why do you look so doubtful? It’s like‒ 

You swallow hard, hands tightening into fists. 

It’s almost like you don’t want to do it. 

The gun in your hand feels far too heavy, like it’s weight had tripled the moment you wrapped your fingers around it. The remorse flickering  in your ears is far too obvious, drowning within the confines of your muted apathy. 

Your eyes drop down, lips beginning to tremble. The bulky gun is gripped tightly within your hand and unconsciously, a lone tear slips down from your eye. 

***

A tart meets your lips, softly chewing on the crumbling structure. 

You're seated at the table where you first had dinner with Namjoon and his family, but this time around the new maid had relentlessly insisted you eat something and sat you down alone with a buffet in front of you. 

You wonder if it’s because she can see how pale you look, or the fatigue running deep in your eyes. 

Taking another bite, the maid hurriedly scurries and brings another platter, a soft smile on her lips as she places it within your reach. You don’t return the response, in fact you don’t move in the slightest as you chew down on the tart, functioning more like you were programmed on command than anything. 

The only time light actually flickers within your orbs, is when the entrance door opens and you catch sight of your husband. 

You instantly rise from your seat as Namjoon walks by, appearing to be lost in deep thought as he begins to head straight up the stairs, only halting when the maid stops him in his tracks. He looks confused for a moment, but after she converses with him you notice his eyes flicker over in your direction, and instantly his feet take him towards you. 

“You’re having lunch?” He questions, seating himself down on the opposite end of the table. 

You nod, “I was told you had something urgent to attend?” 

“Ah,” Namjoon says, exhaustion evident on his features, “Some of the policemen wanted to talk about the case and I’ve been helping them with the investigation.” 

Your jaw instantly tightens, but then you nod, waiting for him to continue. A brief silence dips through instead and it surprises you, looking up to see Namjoon frowning. 

“What is it?” 

A deep sigh leaves him, “Y/N...I‒” His features twist up as he winces, “E-Eunjoo….we’ve found evidence that she may have been killed too....” 

Namjoon grimaces again, nearly whispering, “They found her corpse…” 

“I-I see….” The food in front of you suddenly seems utterly stale, the appetite you convinced yourself of vanishing entirely. 

The maid eventually comes over and asks Namjoon if he wants anything to eat, to which he just replies that he’s eaten prior to returning back home. You decide to take the exchange as an opportunity to excuse yourself, leaving your lunch behind as you head back to your room. 

In the midst of your actions, a hand wraps around your wrist and halts you. 

“Y/N.” 

“Are...” Namjoon hesitates, “Are you okay?” 

Fear immediately dwindles in you, “W-Why are you asking?” 

“Well,” He lets go of your hand, “You and Eunjoo became close, hearing that she’s gone now….are you okay?”

His desperate eyes fall upon you and for a split second, you repress the urge to let all the tears burst out. The only matter of action you can do is simply nod, looking away from his heavy gaze. 

However, your response doesn’t seem to convince Namjoon completely of its integrity. He laces his fingers with yours and suddenly rushes, heading up the stairs as he brings you along with him. His urgency baffles you, but nonetheless, you still follow closely behind. 

Namjoon leads you into the bedroom, your body stilling when he tells you to face the same hanging mirror you were just scrutinizing prior to eating.  

“Close your eyes.” He requests and although you find it quite strange, you oblige without hesitation. 

An ice cold sensation touches your skin, right below your neck. 

“You can open them now.” Namjoon whispers, his voice coming through the shell of your ear. 

The moment you flutter them open, the sight before you has your eyes widening. 

You stand right in front of the mirror, your reflection from waist up showcasing on the glass. Namjoon stands directly behind you, his hands coming around your shoulders to display the shining object that lies within them. 

It’s an amethyst necklace, a simple purple pendant held together with a silver chain that Namjoon is carefully plucking. You cautiously touch the centre, letting your fingertips glide over the fine jewel in astonishment. 

“Namjoon…” You whisper, a soft smile tugging on the corner of your mouth. 

“I bought it a while ago.” He sheepishly explains, loosening his grip of the necklace and taking a step back, “I didn’t know if you would like it, but I thought it could possibly have the power to bring a smile to your lips.” 

His words overwhelm you, rending you completely speechless. 

Seesawing on his heels, he seems to pause for a second, his eyes flickering. 

“C-Can I…?” 

Namjoon looks at you as if encouraging you to decline if you wish to do so, but it manages to elicit a sad smile to line your lips. You swallow hard, nodding in response. 

His eyes instantly beam and he hurriedly stands behind you once again, carefully gliding the metal against your skin until it sits right. As Namjoon attempts to connect it at the back, your line of vision lands upon the mirror, taking in the image before you. 

There’s no doubt the pendant is extremely beautiful ‒ but what your eyes fixate on more is how it practically glimmers on you, managing to bring the glow back to your tired and sickly features. 

Namjoon suddenly shifts, choosing to stand beside you as he quickly ensures that the chain is truly in place and will remain connected. The gesture results in your eyes swaying, moving from the pendant to him. 

The way he stands almost reminds you of the day you got married, how he was before you appearing absolutely regal and dignified. At the time, you had no sense of what you were exactly getting yourself into, essentially thrust into a life that was plotted and planned for from the start. 

And in the midst of it all, the man standing with you was someone you were meant to be careful of, to keep an precise eye out for his actions and to monitor them as closely as possible, all with the poise of being a wife.

But you were never prepared for any of this, prepared to find yourself admiring the warmth that easily spreads within his eyes, or the way he tenderly speaks to you, the strict premise of observing him becoming muddled with something else. 

The image of a gun suddenly flashes by your eyes, making your shoulders tense. 

Namjoon takes a step back and gazes at you, his mouth curving into a smile. 

“You look beautiful.” He softly says, and your head snaps up, eyes connecting right away with his. 

In that one single second, you truly wonder about it for the first time. You wonder if Kim Namjoon is truly as innocent as you ‒ a simplistic tool made for others to use.

***

It’s difficult for you to spend the remainder of the day without your eyes swaying over to the purple gem that sits at the base of your throat, but after a while you wonder if you’re simply doing it out of remorse. 

A deep sigh leaves your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head slightly. 

Namjoon suddenly enters the room, appearing frantic. At your concerned gaze, he simply smiles. 

“There’s an urgent meeting I have to attend with the shareholders,” He quickly says, grabbing onto a bag from the corner of the living room, “I should be back soon.” 

Namjoon casually throws the words into the air, as if they were nothing to be overly worried about. But he doesn’t see how your eyes are shell-shocked, jaw falling slack as blood drains from your features. 

As he steps to move out the front door, your hand abruptly clasps around his wrist. 

Namjoon turns around right away, amidst being puzzled with the sudden hold. However, that’s when his eyes flicker up to yours and for once, there’s no mask concealing your true expression. 

“Y/N…?” Namjoon hesitantly asks, stepping forward. The moment he does, you step back, letting go of his hand swiftly with a strained chuckle. 

“S-Sorry…” You instantly look away, but Namjoon doesn’t budge in the slightest. He instead chooses to hold onto your hand again, looking straight into your averted eyes. 

“I’ll be back soon, Y/N...you don’t have to worry…” He whispers, and it takes every fiber of your being not to spill everything right then and there, head stagnantly nodding. 

“I-I understand.” You manage to sputter out, mentally reprimanding yourself. 

You can’t hesitate ‒ you’re not allowed to hesitate. You can’t feel emotions like these, emotions like you need him.... 

You’re a spy, Y/N. 

As if instinct, the mask begins to form once again. Your eyes turn brighter, and a smile begins to line your lips swiftly, nowhere near the verge of collapsing like seconds ago. 

You glance up, prepared to let go, “Namjoon, I‒” 

Your breath immediately hitches and you freeze in place, eyes rapidly darting around. 

Namjoon keeps his arms around your torso, hands resting on your back and his chin propped up on your shoulder. He embraces you tightly and unconsciously, a speck of tears begin to dampen your eyes. 

For a moment, your lids flutter shut and you savour the gesture, entwining your arms around him. 

When your eyes finally open, they can only focus on the palm of your hands ‒ flesh that has been constantly painted and coated in red with no end in sight. 

Letting out a deep sigh, you part from him. 

Namjoon is still gazing at you, eyes boring into your own. His hand rises up, thumb swiping away the tears that line your cheeks.  

It’s at that moment you recognize their appearance and fumble to wipe the rest away, a strained smile slipping from your lips. You’re scrambling at what to say with him, no coherent words being able to surface at the tip of your tongue. 

But what you fail to see in that single second, is how Namjoon’s eyes instantly perk up and how he immediately pulls you towards him. 

“Y/N!” 

Everything happens with a flash. At one point in time, Namjoon is caressing your face within his hands, softly smiling at you. Another split second later, he’s collapsed onto the ground, completely knocked out. 

Your heart beats viciously as you quickly kneel down beside him and glance up, not picking up on the individual outside that has been particularly eyeing the two of you right as you stopped Namjoon from leaving. 

A mask covers the stranger’s features, but you hear the sound of a low ‘tick’ and notice that his eyes are glued to Namjoon’s fallen form, giving you a hunch of where and in who his intention lies with. 

Before you have the chance to do anything ‒ alert someone in the household or stay and figure out what the stranger would want with Namjoon, a sharp jab lands at the back of your head and you grimace, falling unconscious within seconds. 

***

Droplets of water fall down from the ceiling. 

Your throat burns like it’s on fire, a scorching sensation that makes seem as if you haven’t had a drink of water in days. Locks of your hair are dripping with sweat, and your vision is foggy, barely able to see through the dim lighting of the room. 

Letting out a cough and then a groan, you squeeze your eyes shut before opening them fully, squinting to to focus in on your surroundings. The room is still dark, but there’s a faint light in the corner that allows you to make out the outlines of the silhouettes in front of you. 

Namjoon is stationed on a chair, his hands out of sight and pushed behind him. He appears to be still unconscious, his eyelids drooping down. 

You peer down, discovering that you’re in the same state as him ‒ confined to a chair with the unsettling feeling of something beginning to deeply cut through your wrists. Attempting to experiment, you give a slight tug and immediately a sharp pain shoots through your hands. It gives you a strong indication of what’s pinning you down, especially when your fingertips glide over the prickly thick material. 

“You idiot! Why did you bring her too?!” 

A loud and gritty voice suddenly shouts, causing you to wince, “She was with him when I knocked him out! What else was I supposed to do?!” 

There’s a sound of resentment from the first individual before silence dips, and you take it upon yourself to quickly figure your way out of your confinement. You tug against the bindings roughly, ignoring the prickly sensation that stabs into your skin and brings tears into your eyes. Repeating the gesture, you can only hope that the bristly rope will begin to loosen. 

But that’s when your harsh movements result in your chair shifting. 

One of them snaps their head up immediately, treading in your direction. His heavy steps, coupled with his gritty voice that you heard, causes you to stiffen. Once he approaches you, you notice that his black attire conveniently seals him away from your prying eyes. 

He grabs the back of your chair and immediately your breath hitches. As you glance up and your heart palpitates rapidly, you attempt to think of a way out, anything that could help you get out of this situation. 

Your flickering eyes meet Namjoon’s chair, only to discover in relief at his slow stirring, blinking his eyes and attempting to squint through the poor lighting of the room.  

The second individual approaches, “So what do we do? Kill them both?” 

“Of course we kill them both! What other option is there?!” 

Abruptly a fistful of your hair is tugged up from behind. A hiss leaves your lips, but it’s not long before a cold piece of metal is pressed against your scalp. 

From your frontal view, you notice the first man walks over and does the same thing to Namjoon as he grimaces. 

“Wait.” 

The second man holding a gun to your head looks up, appearing confused. Your eyes frantically follow his field of vision across, noticing the first man to be smirking. 

“Untie her.” 

“What?” 

“Just do it!” 

He obliges, loosening the rope from your hands until it drops down. He tightly keeps a hold around your wrists as a form of constriction, before glancing back up for further instructions. 

A gun is tossed over in his direction. 

He catches it immediately, appearing even more puzzled, “What’s this for?” 

The first man’s grin grows wider. “We’re going to have her kill him.” 

“What? Why?”

The first man leaves Namjoon, striding over to your side. He takes the gun he’s tossed onto the ground, shoving it straight into your hands as you reluctantly accept it. 

“She’s an add on,” He smiles, “and the perfect way we can cover up our tracks.” 

Something gleams within his partner’s eyes, a sickening smile stretching over his lips and showcasing his pearl teeth to you. It elicits shivers to run down your spine and their next statement makes your stomach churn. 

“After this, we’ll just discard her somewhere.” 

Their conversation is abruptly cut off as they redirect their attention back to you, forcibly lining your gun wielding arm towards Namjoon, resulting in your eyes suddenly coming into contact with his wide ones. 

They reflect your own, spelling out one message that you can read so clearly. 

There’s terror in his eyes.

A soft click sounds from your left side and you look over to discover the first man keeping a gun right next to your head. 

“Now, if you don’t want to die yourself.” He obscenely grins, “Shoot him.” 

Colour drains from your features, your hands beginning to uncontrollably tremble. 

The baneful thoughts begin to slip in too easily.

One bullet. 

One bullet, and this all will be over. 

Your next mission will be finally complete. 

All it would take…..

Is just one bullet. 

“Are you deaf?!” The man screams into your ear, “I said shoot him!” 

The gun digs harder into your scalp, making you jolt and wince at the same time. 

Namjoon isn’t looking at you. His gaze has drifted over to the ground, his head lowered. 

Your heart viciously pounds against your ribcage and unknown to you, hot tears have begun to roll down the corner of your eyes. 

“SHOOT HIM!” 

“I CAN’T!” 

Your chest heaves, vision blurring before your voice comes out as a soft sob, “I-I just c-can’t…” 

“Y/N.” 

The soft call of your name results in your head snapping, eyes immediately coming into contact with Namjoon’s. His eyes have become glossy and the sight of a sad smile lining his lips makes your chest constrict. 

“Y/N...it’s okay.” He whispers, his words serving to only increase the tightening of your chest. He briefly looks down at the ground, before raising his head to meet your gaze again. You can clearly notice the water shimmering within his eyes and as he speaks, his voice cracks. 

“J-Just‒….just complete your mission.” 

Your breathing stops. 

The longer he stares at you, the more it feels as if your knees are about to give out. 

You still point a gun in his direction, but it’s accompanied with broken words, your voice barely coming out as a whisper. 

“Y-You knew….” 

Before you have the chance to say anything else, a hand grabs onto your wrist and snatches the gun away from you. 

“Just kill them both already!” 

Life suddenly enters your eyes again and with a grunt, your hand comes into direct contact with your kidnapper’s face. He stumbles back instantly, allowing you to quickly snag the gun and point it in his direction. 

He freezes, glancing at his partner that holds Namjoon at gunpoint. 

His partner snarls at you, “Let go of him!”

Your cold eyes don’t budge in the slightest, “Not a chance.” 

Namjoon remains completely still, his eyes flickering over to you. 

There’s a voice inside your head that is screaming. Telling you to turn back. Begging you to come back to your senses. 

The mission will be compromised. 

He will be able to kill you. 

You will be destroyed. 

But this time, you fight back with just as much vigor. 

Then so be it. 

Your hand instantly whips around, aiming for the man that is pointing his gun at Namjoon. 

Your bullet punctures right into his neck. 

Blood splatters onto the floor and leaks alarmingly from his mouth as he crumbles to the ground. However, he doesn’t loosen his firm hold on Namjoon’s suit and that’s when you rush over, wrenching his hand off and leaving him to submerge within a pool of his own blood. 

You hurriedly bend down and undo the bindings on Namjoon’s hands, a sound of dismay leaving you when you notice his partner nowhere in sight. The moment Namjoon is free and he turns around, you immediately leap forward and hug him with a sigh of relief. 

“Are you okay?” 

Namjoon stares at you with a mixture of utter shock and bewilderment. Nonetheless, you still grab onto his hand, getting him to rise up from the ground. 

“Come on, we have to get out of here!” 

You quickly head out of the room with Namjoon trailing behind you, making sure to keep a firm hold on the gun in your hands. At one point the infrastructure and lack of light begins to confuse you on locating the exit, but Namjoon suddenly speeds up, taking the lead and guiding you instead. 

The view of a thick steel door with light attempting to pool inside greets you and you exponentially increase your speed. 

Suddenly your hold slips from Namjoon’s grasp and you slam against the ground harshly. 

“Y/N!” 

You can feel the sensation of fingers wrapping around your leg, turning around to see the man’s partner tight grip rendering you immobile. You attempt to shake him off, but his grip only tightens in retaliation. 

The next couple of seconds is a complete blur to you. You can barely pick up on the way Namjoon swiftly reaches out, landing a forceful punch right against the man’s nose before grabbing and securing his hand within yours again. 

He tugs you up right away, “Come on!” 

Scrambling to your feet, you briefly look behind you, eyes widening in astonishment as to how the man’s partner is currently writhing on the ground, holding his nose in pain as copious amounts of blood drips down his knuckles. 

Turning around, both of you make it to the exit and Namjoon roughly pushes against it with his shoulder. 

You escape into the light.

#ficswithluv #bangtanhq #btsguild #namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon fanfic #kim namjoon fanfic #bts rm fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #bts namjoon fluff #bts namjoon smut #bts namjoon angst #bts namjoon arranged marriage au #bts arranged marriage au #bts rm arranged marriage au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #namjoon x reader #namjoon x oc

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases 006 Pt 2

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: sorry not sorry 😇🚗💨🔥

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst, & smut ]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2)✓ ----- P(3)   P(4) 

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Somehow, waking up early on Saturday mornings had become a routine since that weekend. Between the plague-like thoughts that disrupted my sleep and how Baekhyun cutely requested for breakfast the next morning, I dragged my tired body out of bed and quickly whipped up some bacon with scrambled eggs. He insisted that my cooking was the best before the flavor even settled fully onto his tongue, counteracting my every protest with flustering compliments. I recall accidentally telling him he was full of shit—it was only a simple meal, after all. What is that compared to the hundreds of fancy restaurants he has dined in?

"Your food tastes like home," He argued between pacifying whines, back-hugging me in a way that always weakens my defenses. I begrudgingly agreed after convincing him to have turkey bacon from time to time. Pork has its place, and I preferably don't enjoy the breakfast variety all too often.

It's ridiculous what lengths I would go for this infuriatingly attractive man. If my weekend to-do list full of breakfast, groceries, and laundry is anything to go by, I wouldn't oppose being considered as "whipped" for him. It is what it is, man.

Every Saturday I am up and running by the time the sunlight breaks over the horizon. Regardless of how late I end up sleeping the night before, my eyes automatically open between the hours of 6 and 7; ready to climb out of bed as quietly as possible. Thankfully Baekhyun is a heavy sleeper who is content with hugging my pillow to his chest while I sneak off to the kitchen.

The aches in my body become very apparent the moment my foot touches the carpeted floor of our bedroom, a familiar feeling—welcomed almost, though I'd never tell Baekhyun that. His ego when it comes to things like this is big enough as it is.

Suppressing a shiver at the wintry morning air, I reach for his discarded shirt from the night before, tsking quietly at the two buttons missing from the top of the material. I swear he's the most annoyingly endearing man I've ever met. There's no other explanation for why I'm already planning what time to sew the buttons back on, carefully picking them up from the floor and leaving them on top of our shared dresser.

Luckily the remaining buttons are enough to shield my shoulders from the cold of the large apartment; the bottom of the shirt brushing against the back of my thighs as I make my way out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. In times like these I am grateful for Baekhyun's habit of leaving his house-slippers right outside of our bedroom. I rarely use mine despite his constant chastising. Some things in life are better bare.

Slipping into the slippers with ease, a smile tugs at my lips while shuffling quietly down the hallway. I usually keep breakfast simple: scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon—maybe a pancake or two on a particularly good morning. Today, however, I'm in the mood for something more. Omelets, cinnamon buns, and the little sausages Baekhyun has adored lately.

Checking on the buns in the small conventional oven on the counter, I whisk away at the raw eggs that will make up Baekhyun's omelet, smoothing out the yolk entirely. A light breeze and soft kiss pressed to my shoulder break me out of my concentration. I could recognize those pouty lips anywhere.

"You're up early," I murmur, leaning back against his chest. Tilting my head up, I smile at his cute sleepy expression.

"Mmm," He manages to capture my lips in an upside-down kiss that melts me to my very core, his warm fingers seeping through the fabric of my borrowed shirt. "What are you up to?"

"Breakfast," I breathe, cheeks warming as he pulls away, quickly checking on the sizzling frying pan in front of me before he can catch me admiring his bare torso. "I got the sausages you like, Bae."

"Bae?"

The top of my head nearly slams into the bottom of the cabinets as I freeze in my tracks, frying pan clutched in hand. Shit, did I say that out loud? My face might as well be 50 shades of red. "I—I mean-"

Baekhyun plants a kiss on my head that throws my every thought out the window. "I love you." He hums, hugging me warmly before walking to the dining table. The view of his bare back as he runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair is way too captivating for six-thirty in the damn morning.

I put my attention back on the pan, hurriedly removing it from the burner to slide the sausages onto a tray. 30 more seconds and I would have burned the damn things had I not shaken myself back into focus. "Jenny and the gang are coming over today."

"Today?"

I raise a brow at his tone. The high-pitched inquiry of his voice at the mention of his friends is a little suspect. Who was the genius that bragged so much about my BBQ short ribs everyone ended up inviting themselves over to our apartment? Shouldn't he remember our plans for tonight?

"Yes?" I drag out, tilting my head, looking at him skeptically with a hand on my hip, raising my spatula. "Did you forget?"

His silent form sitting rigidly at the table is enough of an answer. "N-" I raise my other brow. "Erm—M-Maybe?"

"Uh-huh." If he wasn't so adorable after just waking up with his lips tutted in a confused pout, I would give him hell. "I bought groceries yesterday, so we're only missing the wine-"

"I'm on it." Baekhyun perks up in his chair as if douched in cold water, pulling his phone out of nowhere. "Hyerin," He murmurs groggily, fumbling clumsily for a couple of seconds and slapping it to his ear in his hurry. "I need a bottle of Dom Perignon by 6:30. Thank you." The call is over in the span of 10 seconds. He sets the device next to his glass of orange juice on the table, busying himself with gulping down half of its contents. It takes a while for him to notice my bewildered gaze. "What?" He mumbles; orange pulp on his pouty lips.

I narrow my eyes, lowering the grease-covered frying pan back to the stove. "Who was that?" And how the fuck you just ordering Dom Perignon as if it doesn't cost my entire education expenses? If you just bought the $50k edition, I swear, Byun Baekhyun—"My new secretary." He yawns, stretching his arms above his head with a soft, content smile. "Come here." He mumbles, opening them towards me, his sleepy brown orbs fluttering sluggishly. "I miss you."

For a moment I just stare at him. "I'm right here..." I mutter softly, growing more aware of his current state by the minute. Those dark circles are committing the worst crime by being on his precious face. Carefully sliding his omelet onto a plate followed by a few pieces of sausage, I can't help laughing a little to myself at the comparison of our meals. His omelet managed to come out better than the one I made for me, perfectly solid compared to my result of scrambled eggs. No matter what, he gets the very best from me—I'm taking the biggest cinnamon bun though. That delicious treat has my name written all over it, it's mine for the taking. Besides, I can risk a sugar-crash unlike Mr. 12 hour shifts over there. Noting his drowsy form nodding off at the table, I quickly reach over to start the coffeemaker.

The smile that lights up his face as I present his food to him makes up for the few seconds I burnt my hand earlier, trying my best not to burn our whole apartment down. Note to self: never daydream about eventful Friday nights while leaning over a hot stove. Had I been slower to react, I'd be nursing my hand back to health with a frazzled boyfriend refusing to let me so much as brush my teeth on my own—it gets overwhelming after the first day, trust me.

Settling down on his lap under the persuasive encouragements falling from his irresistible lips, I hold up a piece of sausage to shush his drowsy mumblings. As cute as he is, he needs his morning protein before he can wake up and function properly. Especially after working 60 hours two weeks in a row. I respect his enthusiasm as a semi-workaholic myself, but damn am I worried. What kind of crazily time-consuming clothing line is going on in his beautiful head this time?

Baekhyun finishes his juice while I pick at my food, lazily twirling his hair between my fingers. Some days I ask myself why I’m still here, why I still try, why I continue on in this relationship that has more blurred lines than direct answers about our future. To tell the truth... I never expected to fall in love again. I never saw this coming—never saw him coming, when my sole way of survival has been spotting things from miles away. How did it come to this? How the hell did this man sneak past all my defenses so easily?

Maybe it was the smile he shot my way the first time we met or the way we had danced that Friday night, his body seeming to match so perfectly with mine. His comforting presence and sweet, brown eyes that hold all the stars in the universe. The countless late nights he has spent looking after me when I caught the flu from a combination of lack of sleep, stress, and poor life choices. He's always been there—always been here with me, but why… Why isn’t it enough? What is missing? How can I strip this weight off my chest that suffocates me more by the day?

"Baby?" Baekhyun's warm voice caresses my ear, comforting arms tightening around me.

"What if it happens again?" Jenny's worried face flashes vividly in my mind.

The memories come pouring in, making my mouth go dry as a lump forms in my throat. It takes everything in me to drag my eyes up to meet Baekhyun's inquiring orbs, plastering on another smile. The gesture is easier to manage with every sweet kiss his soft pillows plant on my lips. His heart-fluttering touch distracts my hyperactive mind for a while.

"Damn, Riley." Chanyeol practically moans, the sampling spoon I had offered him left to dangle pre-cautiously between his fingers. "Had I known you could cook like this, I would have come soon—ah!"

"Yah," Baekhyun scowls as I take the last serving plate from the counter to the table with a bashful smile, passing the tall man clutching the back of his head. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about." He mutters, lowering his hand, voice deepening in an unfairly attractive manner. "Watch your mouth."

"Geez." The giant huffs, glaring at him under the veil of his blonde hair. "You'd think you two were married with that—okay, okay!"

"When you two are done." The over-the-top chirp of my voice catches their attention; both their eyes widening like guilty little kids caught with their hands in a cookie jar. "Dinner is ready."

"Don't let me eat it all." Jongdae drawls, throwing an arm over the back of Jenny's chair, looking at them lazily, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Remember what happened last time."

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble for their seats as if their asses have been set on fire; an unusually quiet Jongin follows behind them, carrying a plate I forgot all about.

"Thank you." I gasp, quickly making room for the forgotten dish. "Set it down here, please."

Jongin nods, setting down the plate of cucumber salad next to the servings of Bulgogi. "I'm sorry Kyungsoo couldn't make it." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something came up at the restaurant."

"It's alright. Wanna pack a to-go plate for him?" Tilting my head, I smile in understanding at the sheepish expression on his face. "If you think he'd like my food, anyway," I joke, resting my arm on the back of my chair as I continue to face him, relieved at the familiar hint of playfulness restored in his eyes.

"Oh he's going to love it," Chanyeol insists with a pleased hum, yelping at the smack Jenny lands on his sneaky hand.

"Where are your manners, Park?" She sighs, shaking her head, fiery red curls bouncing with the motion.

"Save some for the rest of us, asshole." Jongdae grumbles, subtly eyeing the cucumber salad.

Everyone's plate already has a soft taco shell, warm from a few seconds in the microwave. The toppings are placed on top of the two tables Baekhyun and I had to push together to accommodate our guests: fresh Korean lettuce, sour cream, and other ingredients that Jenny helped me choose—especially that bowl of melted nacho-cheese Jongin keeps taking glances at.

We all look towards Baekhyun once he settles in his seat. He leans forward to reach the middle of the table, bypassing the regular bulgogi for the one drenched in a home-made sauce, spooning some on my taco shell with a chaste kiss to my cheek. "Eat up, everyone," He murmurs sweetly, tired brown eyes twinkling.

Jongdae doesn't even fake-gag with Chanyeol and Jongin, he goes straight for the cucumber salad. The fresh smell wafts in the air amongst the various meat and spices, making Baekhyun's nose crinkle adorably. I carefully brush his freshly dyed hair out of his eyes, chuckling at the pout he shoots my way. "Did you really have to make cucumber salad, baby? Cucumber?"

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Byun," Jongdae mutters, forgoing his personal bowl to grab the whole serving. No one says a word, we just share knowing smiles. And once Chanyeol pops the cork of the expensive Dom Perignon, the real party begins.

Endless tales of embarrassing high school cafeteria incidents spill forth from Jongdae's mouth as if shame has gone out of style. The details he shares at the expense of Chanyeol's seemingly innocent public image flying out the window right along with it.

"One second this guy looked like he was taking the biggest shit of his life, and the next thing I know, Lee Naeun from 5th period Physics is crawling out from under the table, wiping spulge from her lips. Like, Chanyeol, what the actual fuck bro? Couldn't you have taken your business to the 3rd floor Janitor's closet? I think I still have the key..."

If it wasn't for Baekhyun's quick hands, I would've sprayed a mouthful of wine across the entire table.

Unfortunately, Jongin had to head out right after dinner, promising to meet up again soon before hurrying to Kyungsoo's house, two plates clutched in hand. Chanyeol decided to stick around for longer to "let his two glasses of wine wear off"—this man has the metabolism of a beast, we know why he's really here. His reason is comfortably seated next to Jenny on our striped couch, sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Dinner was nice," Jenny smiles, sipping leisurely at her water.

"More than nice." Chanyeol boosts from our leather recliner, raising his glass, tipping his head at me. "Your food damn near tops Kyungsoo's," He pauses, brown eyes widening. "Don't tell him I said that."

"No worries," I laugh softly, hiding in the safety of Baekhyun's shoulder. He shifts towards me, finishing his wine and setting the empty glass on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against my forehead in a way that leaves my heart shaking. The white loveseat we're sitting on sinks further under our joined weight, and really, there's no place I'd rather be—except our king sized bed, that is. Baekhyun's firm grip on my bare thigh isn't helping my tipsy trance in the slightest. The universe knows I'd rather be getting drunk off of him right now.

"I'm going for a smoke," Jongdae mutters, rising from the couch. He leans down to Jenny for a kiss that leaves her beaming, going to retrieve his trench coat and shoes before slipping out of the door.

Good to see them doing well; I blink in surprise, smiling teasingly her way. I'm happy for her! It really is a pleasant surprise to see Jongdae stating their relationship in such a way; an immense improvement from their past encounters of Jenny nervously seeking affection and Jongdae down-right dodging it like his life depends on it. Public displays of affection are a sweet, straightforward way to say, "hey, this person means a lot to me," or, "back off, they're mine." Which personally sets me on romantic fire. Even if it's just holding hands, it can put me in high spirits—doing it with a certain, cheeky silver-haired man is just a bonus.

Jenny winks, fanning her cheeks that match the rosy shade of her hair before tuning in to Chanyeol's loud chatter.

Soft laughter rumbles in Baekhyun's chest as he engages in the conversation. His warm palm securely holds my hand when I slip my cold palm into his warm one. He presses a kiss to the back of it, pulling a silent giggle from my lips as he smiles at me with an arched brow, squeezing our intertwined fingers.

"Riley?"

I drag my eyes up to Jenny who's loosening her red curls by running her fingers through them. "Yeah?"

"Jongdae's not answering his cell," She murmurs with a worried frown. "Can you go check on him, please?"

And why can't you do it? — Or come with me for that matter? I raise a brow, getting up from the chair and Baekhyun's warmth with a silent sigh. "Okay. I'll be back." If I get kidnapped or spooked by some random asshole, she'll never hear the end of it. I really should ask Baekhyun to teach me a thing or two about hakipdo though.

Jenny beams, a peculiar twinkle in her eye, clasping my hand between hers. "Thank you!"

Uh-huh... I try not to eye her too warily.

"Take my coat, baby," Baekhyun murmurs, kissing the side of my wrist. "It's cold out."

"O-Okay." I clear my throat, pointedly avoiding the smug smiles of the other two in the room while walking over to the coat hanger.

Slipping on his brown, cinnamon-scented coat brings a giddy smile to lips—one I'm quick to hide in the soft fabric.

I slide on my boots before making my way to the elevator, not up for taking the 4 levels of stairs this late at night. Thankfully, that nosy neighbor down the hall isn't meeting me at the elevator tonight on one of his various late-night escapades. I've had enough awkward encounters with his lovers to last me a lifetime.

The lobby is empty except for a lone security guard who waves my way, face lit up in familiarity. Smiling back, I step out the crystal-clean glass doors of the building into the quiet night, quickly finding the man I'm looking for standing at the edge of the sidewalk. "Jongdae."

"Huh?" He looks over his shoulder, turning halfway at the sight of me, pulling a joint from his lips.

"You alright?" I pull Baekhyun's coat tighter around me, resisting the urge to shiver in the icy wind. "Jenny was looking for you."

"Looking for-" He chuckles, brown hair ruffling as he throws his head back in laughter. "Girl, please. I was instructed to come down here 5 minutes ago." He continues, inhaling deeply from the stick between his fingertips. "She ain't looking for me, she's looking for a way for them to chat privately and to make us talk..." He sighs, looking over at me. "I'm not exactly the best company for deep shit."

"O-kay then," I mumble, more than a little peeved, ready to turn on my heel in any direction other than stay here.

"Let's talk." He shrugs, exhaling smoke into the frosty air. I shoot him a wary look, barely taking a step in his direction. "I said let's talk, not have a screaming match." He mutters, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Why you all the way over there?" He follows my gaze to the stick between his fingers. "What? This?" He scoffs, smirking. "It's a joint, worst thing you'll get is the munchies."

Crinkling my nose, I take a couple more steps closer anyway, standing beside him, keeping a respectful distance between us.

"Listen." He sighs, taking another drag. "I know I've done some things that… I didn't necessarily have to do." He glances at me for a moment, and then faces the street lights. "Bros before hoes, you know?"

Yeah, I inwardly roll my eyes, focusing on a lonely snowflake evaporating before it reaches the ground. There's a lot to be said over people doing things that they didn't necessarily have to do. If I had a dime for every sleepless night I've had because of Jongdae's shameless mouth, I wouldn't be paying off my student loans anymore.

"Look." Jongdae takes one last drag, crushing the joint under his worn-out winter boots. "The way he is now is much better than the Baekhyun we knew back then." He nods a little to himself, meeting my gaze. "Still can't see why he decided to change his ways for you...but oh well." He mutters, lips quirking into a playful smirk at my small smile before facing the city lights again. Festival lamp-shaped snowflakes attached to the top of every streetlight beam against the dim backdrop of empty downtown buildings, prepared for the coming holidays. "You're alright for a best friend stealer."

A laugh escapes before I can slap my hands over my mouth, meeting his eye nervously only for us to both end up laughing; our amusement echoing loudly through the quiet night.

"Riley?" Jenny's confused voice peeps up, red curls rebelling against the hood of her fluffy white coat.

"Over here!" I cup my hand around my mouth, waving to get her attention.

She turns towards us, rounding the corner with quick strides. "There you are! I thought you got grabbed or something." She fusses, resting a hand on my arm, leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "Especially you. Baekhyun was two seconds from hunting you down with my head on his mantle."

"Jenny!" I snort, accepting her tight hug, my voice muffled in her puffy coat. "It kinda would be your fault though."

"I know!" She exclaims, viewing me from an arm's length away. "I was sweating out my hair."

"Baby?" That unmistakable honey voice calls. A head of fluffy silver locks and brown eyes peek around the building, catching light in the streetlights.

"Here, B," I soothe, chuckling as he speeds over to us, gathering me in his arms without hesitation.

"I thought I lost you," He mutters, hiding in my hair.

"She was gone for ten minutes," Jongdae deadpans.

"Ten minutes too long!" He pulls back to glare over at the brunet, hugging me to his chest with cheeks too rosy to be merely from a few moments out in the cold.

"Just how much of that wine did you drink?.." I narrow my eyes, cupping his flushed cheeks.

"Good thing you only bought one bottle," Jenny laughs nervously, slowly gravitating to shelter behind Jongdae's taller form.

"Enough to miss you." Baekhyun's breath leaves goosebumps on my chilled skin, his soft lips brushing my ear.

"Al-right, time to go before the lovebirds start mating." Jongdae grumbles, wrapping an arm around Jenny's beaming form. Their matching smirks have me scurrying to direct my tipsy boyfriend back towards our apartment.

"Uh—okay! See you guys next time!" I laugh to mask my burning face, gently pushing Baekhyun into the building.

"Goodnight! Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jenny sing-songs, the smugness clear in her tone.

"Can't make any promises!" Baekhyun proclaims over his shoulder, much to my embarrassment. Thankfully he quiets down once we reach the elevator, but based on the wide eyed security guard, the damage has already been done.

Can the frozen ground just please open up and swallow me whole?

The view of this busy street differs from all the other times I've walked down it with Baekhyun by my side. Maybe because it's been almost 2 years since I've moved to this city, or that new boutique being set up at the end of the road. Whatever the case, the air is different—crisper, cleaner. Refreshing as I briskly walk to my destination, wanting to avoid being out in the cold as much as possible. The weather here is so much colder in the middle of December compared to how flowers were still budding around this time outside of my childhood home.

Humming a song that's been stuck in my head for days with my car keys spinning around my finger, I stroll into Privé Alliance's building, admiring the latest clothing line pictures hung up along the walls and waving to the new receptionist while making my way to the elevator. Many men and women in business attire are all over the place as per usual during the busiest months of the year. However, once I make it out of the crowd of chattering employees, the sight of a familiar face waiting in front of the elevator brings a smile to my face. "Kyungsoo!"

The short-haired man turns around. "Hello, Riley." He nods with a small smile as we step inside the open doors, pressing the buttons to the 5th and top floor. "Lunch date?"

"Hmm?.." Blinking a few times, I follow his gaze to the picnic basket clutched in my hand. "Oh! Yes." I chuckle, smoothing down my hair. "Sorry." Between nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the way over here and the pretty lights decorated all over the city, I've forgotten the reason I left our fridge in a disarray this morning. Who decided to store the sandwich meats at the back of the refrigerator? I know Baekhyun loves my home cooking, but damn, man, let me have a break too.

"It's alright." Kyungsoo chuckles, arching a brow. "Hopefully you can get him to relax."

"Relax? Coming from you!?" I gasp sarcastically, covering my mouth with wide eyes.

"Only because he's seconds away from firing half the 3rd floor." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, yet an apologetic smile forms on his face. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the gathering." He clears his throat while facing forward again, straightening his suit.

"It's alright," I smile, resisting the urge to chuckle at his flustered state, checking my outfit in the elevator's reflection. It may be a chilling 40 degrees—4 in celsius—but I can spare the warmth of my legs for a 2 minute walk from Privé's parking lot. No weather can tell me what I can and can't wear. If I want to rock a pencil skirt on the coldest day of the week, so be it! Plus, these two-inch heels couldn't be left behind. I can't show up at Baekhyun's workplace with the poor fashion choices I subject him to at home, so we're going, coolness over comfort.

"Life happens," I mumble, tucking rebellious locks of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you're doing okay." The smile that forms on his heart-shaped lips when I take a glance at him makes me beam back.

"I'll stop by sometime this week." He hums, black dress shoes tapping on the floor. "I just finished a new recipe."

"Recipe?" I blink, mildly intrigued, mentally running over the list of food I'm carrying for the 3rd time today.

"Fried ice cream cake," He smirks, nonchalantly checking his watch.

"Fried-" My jaw damn near drops to the floor. Fried? Fried!? The one ice cream Baekhyun banned me from attempting myself after burning my hand while frying fish a few days ago?! Which Baekhyun is half to blame, by the way—never sneak up on someone over a popping frying pan. It never ends well. Besides that, it also was the day I truly realized the stamina that man possesses. I have never seen someone react so quickly to shove my hand under ice-cold water in my life.

Searching for any cameras in the elevator, I step a little closer to the short-haired man, whispering discreetly behind my hand, "W-Will you bring me some?"

"The prettiest one," He promises, softly patting my shoulder, chuckling at the star-struck expression written all over my face. "This is me, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" I blink into focus, shocked to be on the 5th floor so soon. What the heck. What is it about elevator rides with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo that make them go by lightning-fast compared to the stifling, tension-filled ones with Jongdae? If you can read a room, it truly makes a difference. "Oh, don't let me keep you." I give a little wave, balancing the picnic basket on my forearm. "See you later!"

Kyungsoo nods, smiling with a wave of his own as the double doors close. It is at that moment that I freeze, recalling how Baekhyun mentioned he hired a new secretary a few weeks back. Well... shit—how do I explain why I'm arriving at his floor unannounced on a random Tuesday afternoon?

Do his employees even know we are dating?.. A small part of me doubts it. Why do I care? Oh, right—I fucking live with him!

By some miracle, no one is occupying the neatly arranged desk when the elevator opens on the top floor, saving me from the completely rushed explanation I have no idea how to even put into words. All that lies before me is an undisturbed walk to Baekhyun's office, the intimidating black door slightly ajar. I slip off my heels, rushing out of the elevator on sock-clad feet before the doors close. Baekhyun's businessman voice filters through the quiet air. He must be on the phone.

Shuffling as quietly as possible down the hallway, I peek into his office. My eyes quickly find his broad form leaning a hip against his executive desk, a phone pressed to his ear as he faces the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the heart of Seoul. Impeccably dressed in a wrinkle-free, white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. His black blazer thrown over the back of his chair. Like always, the splashes of color in every corner of the room have my lips curling up, but I have to muffle a small giggle at the sight of a thin pink measuring tape hanging around his neck.

I slowly inch closer, discarding my coat and setting down the basket in one of the leather chairs. Smoothing my flower-patterned, white button-down shirt, I silently approach him, gently covering his eyes once he ends the call. "Guess who~"

Baekhyun stiffens for a moment before swiftly turning around, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up, setting me down on his desk. He cups my cheeks in his warm palms, crashing his lips to mine before I can make a sound. "Thank god, it's you." He breathes, warm fingers sliding into my hair.

"W-Well—hello to you too." I barely manage to get out between his feverous kisses, making a noise in surprise when he pulls me flush to his chest. "What is it?" I ask softly, noticing the bothered look on his face; carefully running my fingers through his styled hair as he hides in my neck. "Another long day?"

"You have no idea." He sighs, looking up at me. "I was 2 seconds away from losing it."

"Don't-" I pause, thinking about it. A few memories of last week flash through my mind. "Well, you are kind of hot when you're angry..." In the proper context.

Baekhyun perks up, exhausted brown eyes regaining their sparkle. "Really?"

I hum to appease his hopeful expression, yelping when he pulls me into his arms, not expecting to be carried up from the desk so suddenly.

"Come here," He murmurs, walking around to sit in his chair, setting me on his lap. "I need strength to get through these reports."

Gently playing with his hair to calm down my racing heart, I tilt my head, "Do you have time for a lunch break?"

Baekhyun hums distractedly, kissing my forehead, holding me closer to his firm chest. "We can order in a little later."

Kyungsoo's words come back to mind while I watch Baekhyun continue to click around his computer, brown eyes squinted and brows furrowing more by the minute. I inwardly cringe at the move I'm about to pull, but… Our sandwiches' lifespan is ticking away. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"But…" I pout, resting my hands flat on his chest, widening my eyes for effect as his focused orbs shift to meet mine. "But I made it."

"Let's eat now then," Baekhyun smiles, his steady gaze flickering all over my person. I swear I just witnessed his pupils dilating right before my very eyes. "Give me 5 minutes."

My lips quirk up, "One-"

"I'll set a timer." He laughs, shaking his head, reaching for his phone between his bright screen laptop and desktop PC.

Smiling in victory, I stretch across the desk to retrieve the basket, peeking at his computer accidentally. "Holy shit, is that Melody Hudson?" I straighten up, focusing on the magazine cover opened up on a famous website. "The model?" My eyes widen in awe of her tall blonde form modeling a stunning royal blue summer dress; the color bringing out the blue in her shining eyes. I place the basket on a clear spot on Baekhyun's crowded desk before rubbing his stiff shoulders. He must still be tense from work. "She's so pretty."

Baekhyun hums, placing a hand on my cheek. His gentle caress coaxes my eyes back to his. "But you're beautiful," He whispers, resting his forehead on mine, brushing a thumb over my lips.

There's nowhere to hide the red hue that springs onto my face, making him chuckle as I quickly turn back to start taking out our food.

"Would you like to accompany me to a photoshoot?" The tentative tone of his voice has me raising a brow.

"Sure!" Handing him his sandwich, I press a kiss to his cheek, carefully unwrapping my homemade fries. "I'd love to see you work behind the scenes."

"Actually..."

I look at him, mid-bite of my toasted turkey sandwich.

"I'll be in the scenes," He drops, soft lips quirking a boyish grin.

My grip on my sandwich rips a hole in the middle while preventing it from falling out of my hands. "I…"—Behind the scenes witnessing Baekhyun modeling?? With his god-tier body and knee-weakening smirks that have me crumbling from beyond a screen alone? Hell to the mother fucking yes! "O-Okay."

Baekhyun's brown orbs twinkle knowingly, an amused smile forming on his lips as he presses them to mine. "Great."

It's impossible to mask my excitement while slipping into the passenger seat of Baekhyun's Audi. The beautiful red highlights around the black interior never fail to leave my jaw dropped in awe, fingertips tempted to graze over every surface. I'd like to think a person's dream car matches their owner, and there's no denying how devilishly divine my boyfriend looks settling into the driver's seat.

Baekhyun's simple, black button-down shirt and matching jeans have me inwardly salivating—I don't even have the slightest clue of why he's going to a photoshoot today. Privé? A cover for a magazine? Possibilities are endless, but not just anyone can request an hour of his time during one of the busiest months of the year.

"Are you ready?" Baekhyun glances over at me, his unstyled hair tucked under a Privé corduroy camel baseball cap that I haven't quite seen before.

"Yes," I beam at him, tilting my head curiously. "Is that hat new? I don't think I've seen it before."

Baekhyun smirks, brown eyes glinting mischievously as he straps on his seatbelt. "Maybe." He rests a hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh, backing out of his designated parking space. "Hold on tight, baby. You're in for a long ride."

I blink, having no clue what kind of ride he means. When it comes to Baekhyun, you never know what you're getting yourself into, but you never really have to worry about it either. If I hadn't known him for a few years, I would have bugged him to tell me where we're going for the entire ride. But with a few years under our belt—and some long months spent sharing a close-knitted home—I can comfortably sit back and relax for the whole journey, because there is no Baekhyun without one.

•••

The parking lot outside of the building is relatively calm, with only a few staff members bringing in materials from their cars. Inside of the place, however, is a complete madhouse. Everyone is speed-walking to various rooms and popping up from behind every corner. Not a drop of silence in the heavily populated area.

"There's our man of the hour!" A tall, aged man steps forward to shake Baekhyun's hand, carefully cradling a camera strapped around his neck. "So glad you could make it. I hope we are not taking up too much of your time?" He inquires, pushing glasses further up his nose, glancing over at me.

"Oh no, of course not!" Baekhyun shakes his head, shifting closer to wrap an arm around my waist. "I invited my girlfriend to accompany me today." He clears his throat, reddening cheeks caught under the harsh spotlights. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," The man reassures, gesturing towards a staff member who quickly brings over a grey single-seat sofa. "The more the merrier. Here you go, Madam. Is the chair to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you," I smile, trying not to stutter, brushing my fingertips over Baekhyun's warm palm before taking a seat. He shoots me a little bashful grin as the photographer whisks him away, a team of stylists directing him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. It's amusing to see so many people fussing over his hair, pulling out hairspray, and presenting him with simple yet sexy articles of clothing.

A few other models are walking around in the same attire, giving off a cool vibe of the newest clothing line, but when Baekhyun steps out of a dressing room…

Holy shit.

No, seriously holy shit!

Baekhyun walks into the room, standing against a wall as stylists comb his hair over to the left side of his face, using sprites of hairspray to tuck the right side behind his ear. As if he doesn't look dangerous enough adorning a leather jacket, a black shirt with white scribbles I can barely make out from this distance, and camel pants with unique, black low-platinum shoes.

The staff directs him over to the area with a gray backdrop, lights and cameras focused all over the place. Baekhyun practically glides over there, oozing with that stunning Ceo confidence. At a closer look, I can make out the pretty image of open and outstretched hands in the white lines at the bottom of his shirt. The intriguing detail has my full attention until I feel a persistent stare.

I lift my eyes higher to meet Baekhyun's dark brown orbs—from me sitting in the back of the room or getting into character; I have no idea. Suddenly my red knitted sweater is a bit too warm despite not being in front of any bright lights. Just when I think it can't get any worse, the photographer announces that it's time to begin.

If I had known what I agreed to the other day, I would have been more prepared—or so I'd like to think. I mean, how does one prepare their feelings for watching their unfairly attractive, multi-millionaire boyfriend pose for the camera as if moments away from sweeping them off of their feet!? And not in a sweet way either. Nah, ain't nothing innocent about the lethal expression swirling within his dark brown orbs. Especially while they are pointed right at me.

The hairstyle they gave him just makes my situation worse. How am I supposed to sit still with this man gazing so intensely into the "camera"? Is this really the same drowsy Baekhyun who I have to wake up every Sunday morning? Where did his tiredness go? There ain't nothing exhausted about the way he is staring at me! And when they bring out a chair for him to sit on… No. Hell no. That's it.

Draping my sweater over the back of my chair has his covered lips curling up at the corners, I just fucking know it.

After a few more camera flashes, the stylists are back with a new outfit in tow, gesturing for Baekhyun to change. However, right as he is turning down the short hallway leading to the dressing room, someone comes rushing into the building.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" A petite woman with a French accent flies into the hall. "Traffic was-" She skids to a halt, staring at Baekhyun as if she's seen a ghost, her brown wavy hair mid-loop of making a bun. For a long moment, nobody says a word, and then she's on the move, crossing the short distance within two furious strides.

Her slap echoes across the tall walls.

"To think I waited for you." She grits out between heated spews of French. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears shoot daggers into Baekhyun's wide-eyed ones. "To think I held onto the fact that maybe you actually cared." Her whole body shakes as staff members rush over to restrain her, calling her name over her loud obscenities in an attempt to calm her down, trying to pull her away from him before she can jump him. It takes three men to drag her back out of the building. A woman from the small crowd quickly follows, dropping a blue clipboard in her haste. We hear her panicked voice a split second before the door slams shut behind them.

I don't know when or how it happens, but I'm already on the other side of the room, reaching out for a stunned Baekhyun being fussed over by stylists. "Baekhyun?" My eyes flicker all over his shock-stricken face once they move out of the way for me. A lump forms in my throat at the look in his eyes. "B," I tentatively place my hand over his frozen one on his cheek, the red handprint visible between his fingers. "Baekhyun!"

He flinches, shaky pupils focusing on me. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Emotions grip at my throat, making it hard to speak while my eyes keep shifting between his alarmed ones and his steadily bruising cheek. I take the ice pack a staff member hands over without a word, gently brushing his hand away to hold it to his face. "Come here."

Baekhyun silently follows me to the dressing room, seemingly in a daze as stylists vacate the room, closing the door on their way out. I lead him over to a swivel chair in front of a white vanity table, letting him settle before speaking. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He mumbles, breaking my heart at the sight of him pressing ice to his swelling cheek.

"You know what I'm talking about." Crossing my arms, I continue staring him down. "Who was that woman, Baekhyun? Why did she hit you?"

"I'll tell you later, baby." He avoids my eye and his reflection in the mirror, getting up from the chair. "Let's wrap this photoshoot up, hmm? Then we'll go home-"

Stumbling to reach the door before he does, I block his escape, looking into his conflicted eyes. "I'm not letting you leave this room until you answer me."

His lips twitch, "Baby-"

I cross my arms despite my racing heart, my stomach twisting in an ignored warning. "I need answers-"

"For fuck's sake, Riley!" He thunders, startling me so much I slam the back of my head on the doorframe. "Out of my fucking way."

I step aside without another word, turning my head away as he storms out of the room. The slamming door left in his wake has my heart jumping into my throat. Anxiety grips at my chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe. I latch onto a Privé clothing rack, holding onto it for stability.

Baekhyun's tone on the other side of the door is much calmer while talking to one of the staff. I wait for a few minutes, resting against the clothing rack until his voice drifts away; the loud taps of his shoes fading into the distance. No matter how far away he is—most likely continuing on with the photoshoot by the faint clicks of a camera echoing around the quiet building—I don't… I can't; I won't go back out there to watch him. No, not after that. I'm sure everyone in the vicinity heard what just happened.

Slipping out of the room, I gasp when I bump into someone else, my heart beating so hard it hurts to breathe. Could this day get any worse? Seriously? "I'm so sorry."

"You're fine," The same staff member I heard minutes ago with Baekhyun shakes her head, smiling in sympathy. "Tough morning, huh?"

I can only manage a deep exhale, nodding, "I guess you could say that, u-um—" I'm losing the battle against the sting steadily building behind my eyes. "Do you know where the bathroom is by any chance?"

"Just around the corner," She nods, pointing farther down the hallway. "First door on your left."

"Thank you," I breathe, hurrying down the hall. Before I can pass by her, however, I notice her angrily marking out a name with a black sharpie from the same blue clipboard that clattered to the floor earlier.

Nicole. The woman they dragged out earlier…

With tears finally breaking free from my sore eyes, I couldn't have reached the bathroom fast enough.

To my relief, the room is empty. Nothing but painfully bright lights and the porcelain floors to witness my current state. I walk up to the sinks with a shaky sigh, splattering cold water on my face. My reflection isn't a pretty sight to behold when I look into the mirror, bracing my hands on the countertop as I take in the streaks of mascara running down my face. The one day I decide to wear a non-fool-proof kind and this is what I get?

Sighing, I turn to lean my back against the counter, crossing my arms. The photoshoot is back in full swing with all the compliments the photographer is showering Baekhyun in. It's pretty pathetic of me to hide out in this ice-cold bathroom, but I rather shiver for a few minutes than face him right now. Something about the way he reacted earlier... To that woman, to me—doesn't feel right. Maybe I pushed him too far? I just… Do I not have the right to know who just slapped the hell out of my boyfriend? Hell yeah, I'll admit I want to know who she is because he's mine and she was acting as if she was waiting forever for him to recuperate her feelings, but it's not just about that. No—Nah. The deer in headlights expression on his face as her hand collided with his cheek will not leave my mind.

Whatever it is, whatever just transpired in front of me; something is off and I rather be out the line of fire while trying to figure it out.

"To think I waited for you" For what? For when? With the way things are going, I might never know the answer.

The lack of chatter filtering through the echoing walls of the room catches my attention. I tentatively peek out of the bathroom, stepping back into the hallway at the uncharacteristically quiet state of the building. Is the shoot over already? Pushing past my dimly lit surroundings, I head back to the dressing room, hesitantly standing in the open doorway. I'm confused to not find Baekhyun there, or in the main area when I poke my head over the edge of the short hallway.

"Excuse me?" I approach the nearest stylist, moving out the way of another one clumsily carrying out articles of clothing. "Have you seen Baekhyun?"

She shakes her head with a pop of her minty gum, giving me a solemn look. "Last I saw of him, he was on his way to the men's room on the other side of the building."

"Ah..." Dread fills my stomach, and something tells me that I rather not find out why. "Thank you," I murmur in passing, quickly making my way back out of the room, speeding down to the opposite hallway. The possibility that I got left behind in an unfamiliar part of the city twists my stomach into knots until I round the corner. I stumble to a halt, sucking in a breath. My heart breaks at the sight—and then the rage kicks in.

Baekhyun's broad form in his partially unbuttoned black shirt braces himself against the wall, looming over a model. Her hand is in his hair and their lips interlocked in an intimate kiss. The sight has my blood boiling—nah, it's turning into fucking lava.

"Wow." I bark out a laugh, loud and hollow, positively seething as he jumps back from her as if burned. "If you were going to cheat, you could have at least had the decency to do it behind my back." The smirk that forms on my lips is the worst kind, the ugliest kind, the kind that has fear flickering in Baekhyun's wide brown eyes. "Or was this your intention all along?"

"R-Riley-" He stares like a deer in headlights, hurrying over to me, smearing her red lipstick over his lips in his haste to rub it off with the back of his hand. "Baby, please keep it down. I can explain-"

"Nah," I shake my head, looking at him in disdain. Just the sight of him right now has me heating up with anger. I'm seeing red as the model smirks at me from over his shoulder. That bitch. "This is explanation enough." I spin on my heel before I do something I won't regret in the slightest, just for his sake.

Baekhyun's dress shoes tapping frantically behind me as I storm back into the main hall.

"Riley, baby." His grip on my wrist throws me over the edge. "Please-"

"What were you doing, huh?" A snarl forms on my face as I whirl back around, meeting his pleading eyes. "Gonna show her your failed attempts at lasting for longer than a minute?"

Everyone in the room pauses. The photographer almost drops his prized camera.

Baekhyun's face grows progressively red, and if it wasn't for the rage burning in my own veins, I'd be concerned about the vibrant hue going up to his ears right now. Just like his mishap a few days ago that would normally be insignificant, it was his grave mistake. The key that I used to fuel the fire to the flame in the most torturous of ways... Have I hit a nerve, Hyunnie?

His grip tightens on my wrist. "We," He barely gets out in an angered growl of his own, "Are leav-"

"Get your filthy-" I hiss, snatching my wrist out of his grasp, "Paws off of me." I grab my sweater on my way out, exiting the building without looking back. The bite of the cold wintry air is a relief for my heated skin. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I drove." He says through clenched teeth, hot on my heels.

"And I'm walking." I bite back, walking past the car as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Riley!" Baekhyun bellows, putting the Audi in gear and slowly following me out of the parking lot. "Get in the fucking car!"

I cross my arms, scoffing out a laugh. It doesn't matter where the hell I am, I'm not getting back in that car with him. Bringing me all the way out here just to pull that shit. He can kiss my ass. I knew I shouldn't have gotten in that car with him. If I had taken my own four-seat beauty that I left back at home, I'd be halfway on the way to Jenny's by now.

Baekhyun continues to follow behind me, honking obnoxiously, attracting unwanted attention from bystanders that whisper amongst themselves. Some of them pull out their phones. What a spectacle we would make for the front cover of magazines, endlessly entertainment for all their peering eyes. Pausing for a moment to weigh my options, I step towards the Audi with a sigh, climbing in without a word to the fuming man next to me.

Baekhyun drives on, clutching onto the steering wheel with both hands. His grip is so tight his knuckles turn white. I direct my gaze out of the passenger window, avoiding him at all costs within the confines of the car. The long ride home and walk up to our apartment does nothing to ease my rage. Anger continues to thump angrily in my veins as the past two hours replay in my mind.

Baekhyun unlocks the door and holds it open for me. I walk into the apartment with a scoff, moving to tug off my boots only for my back to meet the wall, the front door closing with a startling slam.

"What was that?" Baekhyun glares at me, fire burning bright in his brown orbs. He can't exactly tower over me, but by his mannerism, he doesn't need any extra height to get his point across.

"What was that?" I mumble, peeling off my shoes, ducking under his arm to cross the other side of the room. The longer I stay in these warm clothes, the more I die from the uncomfortable heat.

"No, what the actual fuck, Riley?" He shakes his head, long strands of silver hair dangling in his fury-filled eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Fine." I retort, rolling my eyes and looking at him, "Who was that woman then?"

His nostrils flare. "Really?" He bites out, laughing in disbelief. "Is that really important right now?"

I cross the room in three strides, tilting my chin up to stand nose to nose with him. "It is to me if you haven't fucking noticed."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He scoffs, stepping back. A cruel smile curls on his lips. "What should I do? I haven't paid Riley enough attention." All traces of humor leave his features, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. Baekhyun leans in again, his voice lowering into an angered growl. "Maybe if you weren't wetting yourself over me all morning, you'd figure it out."

I grind my teeth. "Who. Was. She?"

"For fuck-" Baekhyun reels back, his brown eyes rolling so hard into the back of his head a flicker of worry sparks in my chest before those dark orbs land on me again. "An ex-fling," he grits out. "Why does it matter?"

My hands fall limply to my sides. "Why didn't you tell me she would be there?" I ask. My voice is much quieter while I search his eyes for answers.

"What?" He scoffs, raising a brow. "How was I supposed to know she would be there?"

"Her name was on the roster-"

"I-" He shakes his head, pulling harshly on his hair. "What? Do you expect me to know the names of the women I've slept with?" A smirk quirks at his pink lips, his brown eyes so dark that his pupils have vanished in their mahogany depths. "Do you think I've kept some journal? " He purrs, grinning in delight when I shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. "Are you really that insecure?"

I stiffen. A bolt of something sinister shoots down my spine. Did this fucker just—

"Me?" I point to myself with wide eyes, laughing incredulously. "Me?.... You know, that's real fucking rich coming from you." I sneer, roughly tugging off my annoying turtleneck. What was once a reliable piece of clothing ends up torn in my fit of rage. I fling it out of my sight. Baekhyun's words loop over and over in my head. Even though I don't show it—they cut me. Deep. On a touchy subject. In a part of me I thought had died 2 years ago. He damn well knows it hurts when it's mentioned in such a menacing manner, and he still did it. For what? His weak stamina in wake of his long hours at work is suddenly the equivalent to the root of my trust issues?

My fingers curl so tightly into a fist, I can feel my nails pierce the skin. "You're one to talk." It's easier this way; keeping my back turned to him so I can mask the tears brimming my eyes. Who does he think he is? Who is he, period? How is this the same adoring man that was pursuing me the summer we met?.... It takes all my effort not to bolt for the front door—not to let my nose run or tears to stream down my face. No. I won't cry over him again. I won't let him win. Not like this.

Firm in my resolve, I take a deep breath before turning to him again. "You're not so confident, Mr. Big Shot..." My words falter at the sight of him ripping his shirt open, black buttons clattering all over the floor. "What-"

Baekhyun has me backed against the wall before I can utter another word. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He demands, holding my chin between his thumb and index finger. He peers down into my eyes; the familiar look held in his dark orbs has me quivering on the inside—and it isn't from fear. "Hmm? Did you enjoy embarrassing me earlier? Did you have your fun?"

I quickly recover. "Not my fault you don't know how to keep it in your pants."

"You wish you were in my pants." He grits out, lips curling mockingly.

There are so many things I want to throw up in his handsome face right now. So many little secrets and observations I've made over the past year that would make him falter—make him kneel. But today...

Today.

I choose violence.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank on his delicate locks without remorse, pulling him into a brutal kiss of tongue and teeth. Baekhyun grunts in surprise, pressing me harder against the wall. The harsh clash of our mouths only seems to egg him on. The stinging bite he leaves on my bottom lip is nearly enough to break the skin. I don't know how long we stand there; my hands in his hair and his palms sliding down my back. There's no telling where he ends or I begin until the lack of air sinks in. His breathless puffs for air erupt goosebumps on my skin.

"Are we really doing this?" He pants, pulling away to brush his hair back. His eyes are more familiar to me now, softened by his calmer state, intense from the lust felt in his every touch.

I pause my exploration of his firm chest, arching a brow at him with a mocking grin. "Think you can last longer than a minute this time?"

Baekhyun clenches his jaw and steps away. For a moment, I worry if I pushed him too far until his lips crash back to mine. "Jump," He mutters gruffly, his grip near bruising on my ass.

"And if I don't..." The look in his eyes as he drags his dark brown eyes up to mine shuts me up entirely.

Baekhyun slowly leans closer, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. "I'll fuck you against the goddamn window." The serious expression on his face combined with the threat is damn near intimidating—and I hate how aroused it leaves me.

Baekhyun hoists me up and walks to our room with quick strides, relentlessly keeping his lips glued to mine. He pushes open the door before dropping me unceremoniously onto the mattress. His lips are back on mine before I can chastise him for the mini heart attack, his impatient hands tug at the rest of my clothes. I let him pull off my pants and hurriedly move to unclip my bra in the meantime before his rough actions can rip the expensive fabric.

Baekhyun freezes above me, brown eyes transfixed on my matching red lacy set. It may be winter, but that doesn't mean I can't dress up nicely underneath endless layers of flannel and wool. Although, when I think about what happened not too long ago... Warmth fills my cheeks and I know I'm blushing way too hard to have done this countless times with him.

"Ah." Baekhyun tsks, stopping me from covering my chest. "Take it off." He breathes, soft lips brushing over my neck. "Let me see these tits bounce for me."

My eyes widen at his crude words, a gasp escapes my parted lips when he sucks harshly on a sensitive spot on my neck, pulling down the straps of my bra at a snail's pace. The poor clothing is tossed over his shoulder without a care in the world.

I'm no stranger to Baekhyun's habit of leaving pink and red hues on my skin, but today is different—today it feels like he has something to prove by trapping my skin between his teeth, marking me as his. He doesn't stop at my neck; his restless mouth ventures lower, painting my collarbones and chest with the shape of his lips.

I grit my teeth as he reaches my breasts, determined not to let him win me over so easily. It doesn't matter how much I want to melt under his warm hands mapping out the contours of my waist or tremble in anticipation at his breath fanning over my sensitive nipples. No matter what, I will not crumble... until he does first, at least.

Yeah—easier said than done with the way he's tugging my nipple with his teeth, roughly rolling the other between his fingers. It's all fun and games until his grip tightens on my hip, his pelvis grinding mercilessly against me. A move that has my back arching clear off of the mattress. He just presses me back down to the bed, continuing to alternate between each breast, pulling away minutes later with a wet pop of his lips. He's relentless in using every weak spot of mine. As if he knows what I'm trying to do.

"Not today, baby," He murmurs to my squirming form, chuckling in my ear. I can't help but bite my lip, breath caught in my throat when his hand slides down my body. His large palm covers my clothed core entirely. If it were any other day, I'd be flustered over how true his words from earlier were; the evidence of my previous admiring and current state of euphoria clear as day to his greedy hand, tugging at my last piece of clothing.

My heart races in the realization that I'm lying under him, almost completely bare, as he remains fully clothed besides the ripped shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Ah," Baekhyun smacks my hands away, flashing a grin full of devious intentions. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

He's yanking my underwear down before I can get a word in, tossing them carelessly off the bed and spreading my thighs as far as they'll go.

"Always so ready for me," He muses, spreading my folds apart with his thumbs. I stop breathing entirely when he leans down, spitting onto my pussy. "Your hungry cunt has been waiting all morning for me, hmm?"

My lack of response doesn't bother him in the slightest as he meets my eye, sliding two of his long fingers into my core so suddenly I shout, grabbing his wrist. Baekhyun just pries my fingers off of him before interlocking them with his freehand, bracing our joined hands above my head. My eyes roll back at the burn of the unexpected intrusion. It's a dull, persistent ache while he shoves his fingers deeper into my cunt. He curls them up in a way that has me shaking at the seams, tugging at his silver locks as he brings me dangerously close to the edge. Right when I'm nearing my high, he pulls his fingers out, nonchalantly sucking on them while fiddling with his belt.

I gulp, relaxing back against the sheets. I can't even be mad at this point. Our argument ended the moment I started that fiery-filled kiss, but—

Baekhyun's belt clatters to the floor and his brown eyes have never looked so fierce—so carnal, I wonder if he plans to eat me alive. What I don't expect is for him to crawl further up the bed like an actual predator hunting his prey to hover over me again; his gaze not straying from mine for a second. The warmth of his body encloses me; it's second nature to relax under him when we're like this—when we're touching the tip of the iceberg before diving headfirst into the chilly depths of our lust. Sex with Baekhyun isn't like playing with fire; it's handling dry ice with bare hands.

And being in love with him is one of the most intense and excruciating experiences of my life.

We spend so much time eye-fucking each other that I'm not prepared for the bruising kiss he pulls me into, sliding his cock into my core without a warning.

"Ah—B-Baek!"

"Hmm?" He humors, his low voice filled with lust. "Now she speaks."

"Baekhyun." I gasp when he spreads my thighs wider; the pull from the unfamiliar stretch adds to his incessant pounding—his hips seeming to snap a mile a minute. Oh, please—please don't let both of us have muscle strain tomorrow morning. I swear I've never seen him move this fast for anything. Ever. Baekhyun, what the fuck? Have you started back up on your late-night visits to the gym or something? He's reaching depths he hasn't quite reached before, hitting a spot inside my core that makes me want to cringe away and slam myself onto his cock at the same time.

I yelp out when he tilts my hips at a different angle, not meaning to scratch his back so hard in my hurry to cling onto him. Baekhyun just groans, slamming rougher into me in retaliation, his teeth firmly bite down onto my shoulder.

"Baekhyun! what the—ah—fuck!?" I nearly shriek, appalled and aroused.

Baekhyun smirks, sliding a hand down to press his thumb on my clit. "What's the matter, baby?"

"B-" I can't even say his name without stammering, shaking under him when he slows down to roll his entire body against mine. The only thing I'm capable of at this point is gripping his shoulders, throwing my head back with a loud moan. I always thought of myself as not being a fan of sweat or having any strange, warm liquids touching me, but Baekhyun... Fucking Baekhyun. His sweaty chest brushing over my nipples is making me lose my damn mind—if I was feeling any more horny and adventurous, I'd lick the salty sweat off of his neck.

"Come on." Baekhyun pants with a satisfied grin. Sweat continues to drip from his honey-toned skin, sticking silver locks to his forehead. "Tell me."

The fucker, he knows exactly what's up. It's written all over his face. A part of me doesn't want to beg—my rational side. The one chastising me for falling into bed with him again in the first place. But I don't know how much longer I can take his teasing antics, so despite my stubbornness—despite the heart aching memories creeping up on me in such an intimate moment; I press my body to his.

"Fuck me like you mean it." I pant, yanking harshly on his hair, smirking at his pained hiss until his hips undulate in a new direction. The constant stimulation on my most sensitive spots has my high sneaking up on me so quickly, I don't have time to warn him.

"Bae—!"

Baekhyun's lips crash to mine, swallowing my cry of his name as I fall over that blissful edge. His cock is the only thing on my mind amongst the ringing in my ears—in the minute-long paradise where nothing else matters but our frantic hearts racing as one.

Baekhyun lets out a telling grunt before a burst of warmth fills me up. The remains of his release drip down my thighs with his erratic, shaky thrusts. He doesn't even pull out when he's done. He just leans tiredly over me, coaxing my lips into a lazy kiss. "You're the only one for me." He whispers as if sharing the biggest secret, all rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed.

Beautiful; there's no other way to describe him—in general, in this moment. Nothing compares to his mocha brown eyes that shine brighter than a million stars when his steady gaze sets on me. Nothing compares to the safety of his warm embrace that surrounds me. Nothing could come close to the way he drives me crazy in every single way. Love. Lust. Doesn't matter. If it's with him—for him, it's...

...

Is it worth it?

The emptiness I feel when he gently pulls himself from me triggers every painful memory imaginable: my birthday, the party, our summer fight, his ex, that phone call, his photoshoot...

Baekhyun collapses beside me on the bed, completely oblivious to the war going on in my head. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his beating heart.

I wait for him to fall asleep, brushing damp silver locks of hair out of his eyes as his breathing slows. He looks so peaceful like that, so innocent while his face relaxes with sleep. So... So welcoming, like home.

Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision of his twitching brows and pouted lips. I hope he's happy; I hope he got what he wanted.

Carefully sliding out from under his loving hold, I quietly get dressed, collect my duffle bag, and slip out of the room, holding onto the doorknob for dear life. His quiet mumbles drift through the crack of the door, tossing and turning as if already aware of my absence. I have to cover my mouth to contain my sobs.

I love him—I really do, but I...

I can't do this.

I can't take this anymore. If he won't open up to me; if he thinks I'm... I'm unworthy of knowing his past—hell, fuck that. Apparently caring too much leads to being left behind, if that encounter this morning is anything to go by.

My laughter just ends in more sobs, the salty taste of tears on my tongue more bitter with the realization that once again, I've lost.

But at what cost?

The ache in my chest and between my legs is an answer within itself—the last push I need to retrieve my car keys from the counter.

If he wants to be that way, Baekhyun... Baekhyun can do whatever the fuck he wants. What's the difference between me and all the others? What use am I? Is it because I learned how to cook? Clean? I wonder how many of those late nights at work are actually spent bent over his sketchpad. Am I his personal little stay-at-home trophy? Does it feel good to show me around important events? After today, I might as well hang up the thought of ever stepping into his world again. No one wants a possessive girlfriend in their corner of the wrestler ring. No one needs a jealous, nosy, demanding burden weighing them down. And I have my high standards as well.

I can—and will not—be one of those girls.

Not even for him.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2)✓ ----- P(3)   P(4)

A/N: I can feel the pitchforks on the rise, l-listen (<.<) just trust me on this, not all is lost.... Or is it?  😇 I’ll try to finish the next part as soon as I can. *cracks fingers* let’s see what this troubled couple gets up to next.

#baekhyun smut #baekhyun romance #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fluff #Six Phases

[utterlyinevitable]

On The Subject of Love

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao)  Word Count: 3.3k Warning: Tame. A few curse words and mentions of sex.  Summary: Becca coaxes Ethan into talking about his experience with love during their visit to Leland Bloom's yacht.  

Author’s Note: this took waaaaay too long to write and i’m still not sure i’m happy with it :/ but thank you @aylamwrites for pre-reading and leaving hilarious comments ❤

________________________________________

The drive to Leland Bloom’s yacht was staid, a direct contrast to the glorious sunshine surrounding the bubble of the sedan. Ethan was navigating the unfamiliar route to the private yacht club with extreme disdain. His ego wanted to resolve this case and finally put an end to this petulant competition with Mass Kenmore Hospital. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car was his favorite accomplice, Becca, calmly staring blankly out the window and still so unsure of his feelings towards her. 

She knew she riled him up when she went behind his back to seek out the first high-profile patient, influencer Gwenyth Monroe. Though, in her defense, the man wasn’t actively trying to save the Diagnostics Team from the budgetary chopping block. Ethan Ramsey was always so blinded by his pride and ethics - He did the same with their future as well. But, Becca also knew she stepped over the line this morning when she called him a spoiled child in front of Baz and June at Mr. Bloom’s estate. Though she didn't really regret it because someone had to tell him off, the interaction still left a bad taste in her mouth. 

Becca wasn’t too sure where they stood - professionally or romantically. The words Ethan spoke not too long ago in the dark of his office rang through her head: I want to know you as you truly are. 

That was a few weeks ago. There he was breaking down their simply professional facade once again. It was a constant tug-of-war with him. Some days Ethan would let the wall crumble by letting her in or grabbing her hand, and others where he’d build it higher than before just to keep the force of Becca at bay. She didn’t realize how sweet of a memory the two of them creating his Pictagram account during that late-night research session would become. 

He’s such an old man… 

Ethan cut through her reverie, “What are you thinking about?” 

With her gaze fixed on the passing trees and her mind still half-stuck in her daydream, she responded without further consideration, “Do you really never want to get married?”  

Ethan’s brow furrowed at the random intrusion, needing to think before settling on a response. “Are you still stuck on this?”

The two sometimes-lovers spoke briefly about his views on the subject while working on Gwenyth’s case late into the evening. To Becca it was one of the most important questions in building their not-so-subtle budding relationship - she needed to know if Ethan was worth all the… complications. He spoke about how he didn’t believe in soulmates, unconditional love, and his doubts on marriage as an intuition. He never once spoke about his experience with love.   

Looking out the window into the cloudless end of summer day, Becca boldly asked, “Haven’t you ever been in love? Wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone you’ve dated?” 

“Oh god, no,” he scoffed with wide pale blue eyes. “I told you, Rookie, I don’t see the point.”

She rolled her disbelieving brown eyes and let the conversation pause there as they pulled up to the dock. 

***

After the yacht set sail the doctors waited around the stern in a restive silence for 45 minutes while Mr. Bloom wrapped up his business meeting. Once safely away from the prying eyes of investors and colleagues in the yacht's master bedroom, Ethan and Becca begin to run tests and scans on the deteriorating businessman. 

“Mr. Bloom, can I ask you and Caroline a question?” Becca asked as she drew a few samples of blood. “It has nothing to do with your case. Me and my friend here are debating something,” she nodded her head at Ethan’s general direction.  

The patient looked between the two with a devious smile, “Sure, swing.” 

Becca quickly peered over at Ethan standing at an expensive gold and glass table with the mobile sonogram machine, his arms crossed and waiting for her to enlighten the room with her inquiry. 

She shot him a coy smile before turning back to the worldly man and asking, “How did you know you wanted to get married?” 

Ethan stifled a surprising cough. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought she’d ask a complete stranger that. 

Mr. Bloom smiled as he instantly recalled every moment he has ever spent with his now-wife. 

Closing his eyes he recited, “We’ve been business partners for decades - since college, actually. We were married about 11 years ago. I’ve known her my entire adult life and waited until I was almost 50 to tell her how I really felt.” 

His eyes opened and found Caroline sitting in the chair by the large bay window immediately. The two looking adoringly at one another for a few seconds, speaking volumes in the language of love. For a moment Becca’s heart panged with hope that she could have that level of fondness with a man - that unconditional and unencumbered attachment that precedes words. 

“My recommendation is to tell the other person you have feelings for them from the get-go. It’ll buy you time together. Its - it’s the most precious thing in the world to be with the one you love most.”   

The way Leland Bloom spoke about his wife humanized him - he wasn’t a cut-throat businessman with oligarch-like wealth. He was a man who wanted as much time with his loved one as this world would permit, no matter the cost. 

“But how did you know she was the one?” Becca quizzed further. 

Mr. Bloom looked at Ethan's awkward form first and then to Becca as he asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

Ethan’s attention was focused on watching the images printing, deeply embarrassed by Becca’s brazen question and wanting no part of the conversation. Feeling everyone’s gaze on him he took in the three expectant stares and exclaimed incredulously, “Wha - Of course I have!”   

Becca smiled at the old man, “Yes.” 

“Do you remember how it felt?” Leland’s eyes bore into Becca’s begging the memories to surface. 

She nodded. 

Becca peered over at Ethan for a split second, his eyes meeting hers. She could see the curiosity swirling around his dark blue orbs alongside something else. Feeling ashamed for getting caught staring she bit her lip and tore her eyes away from him before she could even try to pinpoint just what the mystery emotion was.

“It’s like that,” Leland reassured. “But you’re constantly drawn to one another. The simplest and meaningless of tasks make you the happiest. You can sit in the same room in your own little world of silence together. Your heart swells when you look at them.” Like before his eyes flashed over to Caroline. “You’re never bored. And you can rely on them. The most telling sign was that I knew I needed her in my life even before I knew I had feelings for her. The intimacy was an added bonus.” 

He smiled up at his wife who now stood close by with an affectionate hand on her husband’s shoulder.  

“Would you agree, darling?” 

She nodded only for him. “I knew he was my person when he’d stand up for me. He wouldn’t let anyone belittle me or my intelligence. He challenged me to be a better person and comforted me when I needed it. He’s the best partner I could ask for.” Caroline’s body shifted to Becca though her eyes never left Leland’s, “Does that help your debate?” 

Becca looked over at Ethan who didn’t have an inkling of amusement in his features. “I think you’ve just proved my point, but I'll give him a few minutes to form a rebuttal,” she winked at the couple. 

They shared a pleasant laughter at Ethan’s expense. 

“Ok, Mr. Bloom, you’re all set,” Becca beamed as they finished their examination. “We’ll give you a call once we have the results from the lab later today.” 

With a nod of his head Mr. Bloom replied, “Good evening, doctors.” 

Ethan didn’t say a word as they disembarked the vessel. 

“So…” she started, expecting him to begin arguing his case on the disillusion of soulmates. 

Ethan wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. 

The walk back to his sedan was stewing in awkward tension under the afternoon raging heat. More than halfway back to the car Becca had just come to accept the fact that Ethan wasn’t going to engage in their little intellectual tiff when he spoke with a critical eye;   

“How many people have you presumably been in love with?” 

She certainly didn’t expect that to be his first rebuttal. It almost made Becca drop the medical bag she was holding. Almost.  

She simply responded, “Two. You?” 

Over her shoulder she saw Ethan walking straight and stoically, eyes fixed ahead. He was ever so expertly guarded and displaying no telling emotions. 

“Three, maybe,” he shrugged, not giving it a second thought.  

“Maybe?” 

“I don’t think teenage relationships could really count as love.”

“So we won’t count it,” Becca agreed with a small nod. “My number stands at 2.”  

They made it to the car and Ethan popped the truck for them to put the gear. He fussed with the equipment, taking slightly longer than necessary to make sure the bag with the blood samples were safe and secure. Becca eyed him carefully from the sidelines expectantly. 

With a loud thunk of the trunk and eyes glued to the license plate, he hesitated, “One.” 

“Tell me about her.” Becca demanded sweetly as she moved to open the passenger side door. “Or I can go first?” 

“Please,” he motioned for her to continue as they settled into his sedan. 

Becca took a cleansing breath as she buckled herself in for the journey. 

“It was my first year of undergrad. His name was Mack.” Becca could almost hear the roll of Ethan’s eyes as she stared out her window. “We dated for a year and broke up because my workload got intense and I couldn't go out much.” She took a pause as she remembered all those meaningful moments that came to define her adult-self. “He was a liberal arts major, really outgoing. He brought me out of my shell and taught me to be the person I am today. I’m really thankful for him, but more grateful that it didn’t work. I loved him, but I know now I definitely wasn’t in love with him. Looking back I don't even know how we would have made anything work.” Becca chuckled to herself. “He works in television now.”

There was a pause before she continued onto the second romantic love she’s ever experienced. Part of her hoped Ethan would jump in with an antidote. 

Still, he kept his eyes on the road ahead. 

“My last relationship was during med school. He was something else,” Becca continued with a vibrant smile. “We had great chemistry and a good time together.” 

The affection in her voice for the nameless man instinctively had Ethan gripping at the wheel just tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. Medical school wasn’t more than two years in her past, still enough time for the exes to find their way back to one another… 

“We thought we were supposed to be together because that’s what you’re told as a kid - go to school, find your soulmate, get that good job, get married and have babies. We groomed each other to be all that. But the pressure of trying to be someone’s perfect person was too much. He went to California and I went to Boston. I don’t know what he’s up to today.”

Her smile faltered as she wordlessly recalled the day she and Thomas Miller III walked out of one another’s life for good. Ethan would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little relieved to know her break up was not amicable.  

“Your turn.” 

Becca didn’t have the strength to turn and face him, the still-raw memories were playing out against the glass of the rear-view mirror and she couldn’t banish them just yet.

Ethan began to recite his past relationship like a bulleted list, checking off any sort of pertinent information; “It was for nearly 10 months. During medical school. She was gracious and brilliant. We never saw much of each other but when we did we had the most riveting medical debates. It was good fun.” 

“That’s it?” Becca questioned in astonishment. Her brows were furrowed as she tried to keep her mouth from hanging open. How could someone look back on their first love with such displeasure? Even if it ended horribly the feeling of being in love is magical... and shouldn’t that in itself be celebrated?  

He nodded. 

Becca folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip as she pondered his words. 

With the slightest scoff Becca boldly concluded, “I don’t think you were in love.” 

Ethan was taken aback, clenching his jaw tightly in blatant refusal of conveying his surprise at her account of what happened with his heart while she was still in grade school. “How would you know?” he retorted.  

“Because if you were you’d see each other all the time,” she responded simply and with a jovial lightness - like she’d cracked an undefined code. “You’d forgo sleep to spend some time together. You’d talk about your insecurities, your family, your dreams of the future. Not just medicine and cases.” 

“You’re romanticising it.”  

That one phrase stirred something up deep inside Becca. Who was he to tell her those things didn’t matter in a relationship? Those are the things they talk about and she… she wouldn’t admit to it. With that one romantic phrase they dove back into the quarrel Ethan so desperately didn’t want to be having. 

Undeterred by consequences she countered, “How often did you have sex?”  

“Excuse me.”  

“You heard me,” she challenged.  

Ethan let out a long breath of air. They were stuck together for at least another 25 minutes and there wasn’t a single thing he could say to dodge his way out of this one. Although he didn’t like the fact, they both were acutely aware that Rebecca is the only person who could ever ask him an impudent question. She had earned that right that night he crossed the line and they ruined one another in the most pleasurable of ways.

“Once, maybe twice a month, I think.”

“Months!?” Becca practically jumped out of her seat. Her head whipped around to face him.  

Ethan hadn’t moved from the upright position and tight grip on the steering wheel she noted when they began their journey back to Edenbrook. The only thing that was running through Becca’s mind as she gawked at the admirable DNA of the man beside her was: How?  

“It was a long time ago,” Ethan said, still completely unflappable. “I can’t remember correctly.” 

“I was lucky to have sex twice a week.” Gosh, there were so many questions fluttering around Becca’s mind that she just couldn’t find the right words to articulate how unfathomable his confession seemed. 

She watched as he raised an eyebrow, “You had other priorities.”  

“No,” she stopped him right there with a point of her finger. “I had the same education as you. In between classes, assignments and reading your entire body of work I found time to find time.” 

The corner of Ethan’s lip twitched when she mentioned her devotion to his life’s work. 

Becca couldn’t believe he dared question her priorities - he read her application, he knows just how diligent and qualified she is. 

She wanted to continue arguing but knew it was futile. Instead she asked another innocent question, “How many relationships have you been in since her?” 

“Hurm, one,” Ethan grumbled, “Harper.” He paused to look at Becca out the corner of his eye for any sort of reaction. She gave him no ill indications - Her alert brown eyes were on him and brows rose high, awaiting further explanation. The two have had a quick quip on his history with the surgeon, but nothing past hearsay. “We’ve been on and off since residency,” he told her once more. “Now can we stop talking about this?”

Becca conceded, settling back into the shiny black leather. “I can’t believe you dated Harper,” she mused as she played with her seatbelt strap, “You two are so…” 

“Different?” Ethan finished for her. “We actually have a lot of the same interests.”  

“Intense,” Becca grinned as she finished her train of thought. “But I'm glad you got along.”  

“We didn’t.”  

If she wasn’t confused by the attendings’ relationship before she sure as hell was now. “Wha- How? You just said you have a lot in common.”  

“Having similar interests and getting along are not mutually exclusive, Doctor,” Ethan smirked. 

With a slack jaw and eyes trained on him once more, Becca all but demanded, “Explain please.”  

“We were two people at the top of our respective classes,” he began. “Medical journal leeches were pitching us again and again. Everyone was pushing us together - a power couple, if you will.” 

“The pride of Edenbrook,” she muttered in understanding.  

Ethan nodded, “Pretty much.”  

“Did Naveen orchestrate your coupling?” she asked. “He loves a good gossip story.”  

Ethan shook his head once, “Naveen just wants me to be happy. At that moment he thought she’d make me happy.”  

Becca let his words settle amongst them. She shouldn’t feel unsettled by his honesty, yet she did. There were too many comparable variables coming to light today. 

Becca chewed on her bottom lip for a few pensive seconds before asking the fated question; “Did you like her?” 

As soon as the words fell off her tongue she shut her eyes. She didn't want to see the damage the words could cause, and yet her body craved the answer. 

“I had an affinity for her, if that’s what you mean,” he asked but didn’t give her the chance to clarify. “We had the same interests; both of us very career-orientated. Ultimately that’s what got in the way.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully about his next words. He said them slowly and a decibel quieter than the last, “And that I didn’t have highly romantic feelings for her.” Just then Becca’s eyes shot open, fixed at his loosened grip of the steering wheel. “I still have a lot of respect and admiration for her.” 

A small smile crept up on Rebecca. Those words alone held all she needed to know - Harper Emery never was and never will be a contender for Ethan’s heart. 

“Then why do it?” 

He shrugged as his features settled back into their default stoicism, “It was the right thing to do. If we didn’t… people would spend the rest of our lives forcing us together.” 

She cocked an eyebrow, “So your relationship was a PR stunt…?”

“Absolutely not. I’m not a low-life, Becca.” He took pure offense that she thought he would do anything without a saturation of intention. “We tried because it seemed right. It seemed… inevitable... to try.”

“Huh, ok.” 

He used her words against her. ‘Inevitable’ was what they were. Does he feel the same way about their relationship that he felt about Harper? Surely he didn’t, but she’d have no way to know. Ethan Ramsey kept pushing her away, and yet years ago he refused to wait and chose to explore those ineludible feelings with someone else. 

Was Harper the reason we aren’t together, since he’s done the whole ‘inevitable’ tango before? She speculated.  

Ethan’s next comment broke through her trance, “Aside from those disasters called relationships I have spent time with a few other women. You can rest assured I’m not completely incapable of intimacy.” 

“I know you’re not a robot, Ethan,” she lamented. I’m happy to be one of those women. 

Becca was glad he opened up to her, and for their intimacy all those months ago. Though, the gnawing of how many other women Ethan Ramsey had taken to bed in the days without her or Harper Emery plagued her mind. She wanted to press further but knew not to - she pushed her luck too much for one day.

_____________________________________

Taglist: @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @aylamreads @binny1985 @ramseysno1rookie @interobanginyourmom @queencarb @perriewinklenerdie @rookiefromedenbrook @eramsey28 @choicesficwriterscreations @heauxplesslydevoted @schnitzelbutterfingers @purpledragonturtles @ramseyandrys @ermidc @mrsdrakewalkerblog @doilooklikeiknow @overwhelminglyaquarius @drethanramslay @edgiestwinter @rookieoh @lucy-268 @mvalentine @lilyvalentine @starrystarrytrouble​ @custaroonie​   @pitchblackstars @angela8756 @sanchita012 @thegreentwin @openheart12 @tsrookie​ @adrex04​ @togetherwearerapture @ezekielbhandarivalleros

#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x harper #choices oph2 #oph series #oph ff #choices fanfic #ohsy

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Persistence ⊰

Pairing: Johnny Utah x Reader

Request: Could u do one where the reader is a nurse who runs into Utah a bunch of times and he flirts and she just isn’t impressed but he keeps going and then she finally sees it - @jadore30​

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Language, mention of alcohol

A/N: Thanks for requesting this! Love Johnny Utah and I’m glad that I finally wrote a little something with him. I’m sorry for the terrible title, I couldn’t think of a good one lol. But anyways, I hope you like it!

Johnny Utah was an overconfident, cocky bastard.

The other nurses would fawn over him whenever the FBI agent dropped by the hospital after a case goes awry. You, however, couldn’t understand the appeal of him. Sure, Utah had an irritatingly handsome face and a body seemingly sculpted by the gods themselves. However, they still weren’t enough to make up for his arrogance.

Not to you, at least.

It was close to midnight when you were paged to the emergency room after taking a short break. You had rounded the corner, noticing how empty and quiet it was before heading towards bed number twelve where your new patient was waiting. Pushing aside the privacy curtain, you cursed under your breath when you saw Johnny sitting on the hospital bed, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Seriously, Utah?” You spoke, exasperated. “This is the third time this month alone.”

“What can I say? I wanted to see you tonight, darling,” Johnny winked as you examined his injuries, which all seemed very easy to treat. Well, that’s what you had thought until you saw him holding an ice pack on top of his swollen wrist, most likely from a sprain.

Shaking your head, you might as well do your job now so that he could soon go on his merry way. With a deep sigh, you took a pair of gloves from the supply cart nearby and put them over your hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Johnny watching as you gathered the things you needed to clean the gash on his arm.

“What went wrong this time?” You asked him, gently cleaning the tender skin around his wound with a cotton pad dipped in solution. The cut was deeper than you had initially thought, and he definitely needed stitches for it.

“Drug raid,” he answered, and you caught sight of his tongue darting out, licking his chapped lips. “One guy got away and put up one hell of a fight. I didn’t see his knife at first, so that took me by surprise.”

“You didn’t wait for back-up?”

“There was no time, and I thought I could handle him by myself.”

Johnny flicked his dark hair to the side, his chestnut-brown orbs then staring at your concentrated gaze. You noticed the heat rising up in your cheeks when you briefly locked eyes, and you felt something—unexplainable. Swiftly, you looked away, your focus returning to the task at hand.

“And your wrist?”

“Tripped and landed on it. Doesn’t really hurt though, I’ve been through a lot worse.”

You nodded before you threw out the dirty cotton pad. You then switched to a new clean pair of gloves before threading a needle. “So, do you call the main desk first and check to see if I’m working before getting yourself injured while on the job?”

“Is it bad wanting to get treated by the best nurse in California?” Johnny let out a low chuckle before wincing at the stinging sensation of the needle’s sharp end piercing through his skin. “But if I say yes, will you finally agree to go on a date with me?”

“Not happening,” you declined, but you couldn’t stop a smile from appearing on your face. “Not in a million years.”

“Come on, please?” He pleaded, batting his lashes at you as if it would help his case. “Just one date, that’s all I want.”

You were used to this by now, the constant flirting and his silly attempts in asking you out. Ever since you met him four months ago, Johnny had been quite relentless, doing everything he could to convince you to give him a chance. But you simply weren’t impressed by him, and you would much rather keep your relationship with Johnny strictly professional.

“No, thank you, Utah,” you responded as you finished up your meticulous stitching, wrapping the inflicted area with a bandage afterwards. “I think we’re all done here. I’ll have you brought over to imaging and get your wrist checked out.”

Johnny gave you a short nod while you peeled off your used gloves and tossed them in the bin. For a minute or two, you watched in silence as he inspected your handiwork. Seemingly satisfied, his attention reverted back to you, flashing a cheeky grin at the same time.

“I don’t do it on purpose, by the way,” he noted, pushing himself off the edge of the bed before standing close to you. You could feel Johnny’s warm breath against your skin as you glanced up, locking gazes once again. “I don’t get hurt just so that I could see you. I guess it’s one of the perks that come with the job.”

“Sure it is,” you added incredulously. “Well, I’ve got rounds to do in a bit. You can wait here, and I’ll let the technician know that you need an x-ray.”

“Are you coming back?” Johnny wondered out loud.

“I’ll have Barbara bring you there,” came your response. “She’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

“But is she as beautiful as you, angel?” He tilted his head to the side, amused by his own inquiry. “If she’s not, then I’m not going.”

You laughed, taking a step back from him. “Okay, it’s your choice, but I have to get back to work.”

Turning around to leave, Johnny’s uninjured hand suddenly reached out to grasp yours, causing you to look behind. A quick second passed, and you swore that there was a shift in the atmosphere. You couldn’t think of a proper word for it other than electrifying, and truth be told, it had left you confused. His unwavering gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and you recognized the feeling as a sign that you were attracted to someone.

But this was Johnny you were dealing with. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, you had thought that he was the worst. You didn’t really know him, and he didn’t really know you. To him, you were probably just another pretty face that he wanted to sleep with and couldn’t take no for an answer.

“Desperation is not cute, Utah,” you stated as he pulled you towards him, your feet allowing it.

“I’m not desperate, I’m persistent. There’s a difference,” Johnny explained. His eyes drifting down to your mouth, quietly imagining how it would feel on his. “You know, I’m not going to give up on you that easily. Go ahead, play hard to get. But I can see it on your face—you like me, too.”

“Did you also manage to hit your head during the scuffle?” You raised a brow at Johnny, who shot you a faint smile. He then lifted your hand up to his mouth, kissing the back of it softly before gently lowering it down.

“I’ll see you around, darling,” he said sweetly, and you felt your heart skip a beat. With a small wave, you then made your exit, walking to the nurses’ station down the hall.

As you prepped for the last three hours of your shift, you couldn’t help but reflect on what had happened between you and Johnny. It was odd because for one moment, you had forgotten about all of the reasons why you weren’t interested in him. Instead, you could only think of how gentle his calloused hands were as he held you, and the strange spark you felt when your eyes met.

“Thinking about Agent Utah?” Barbara’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and you tried to act naturally in front of the older woman. “Don’t even lie, hun. I knew that Utah would eventually get to you.”

“God, no,” you denied with a shake of your head. “How’s his hand?”

“Not too damaged, fortunately. But we did have a lovely conversation about you on our way up to imaging.”

You abruptly stood from your seat, almost stumbling backwards as Barbara giggled at your flustered reaction. “Nope, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Of course, you don’t. You’ve always been a stubborn little thing, especially when it comes to Johnny. How many more hospital visits will the poor man have to make until you finally realize it?”

Narrowing your eyes, you stopped yourself from launching into one of your usual tirades about Utah, not having the energy to do so right now. Sinking back down on your chair, you exhaled heavily and did your best to forget about him for the rest of the night.

Go ahead, play hard to get. But I can see it on your face—you like me, too.

Johnny’s words echoed in your mind. You didn’t know how he got to that conclusion, and he couldn’t be further from the truth.

A crush on Utah? The mere thought of it was absurd.

.

.

.

But was it?

---

A week later, you found yourself sitting at a local dive bar after a particularly exhausting shift at the hospital. The place was as busy as it could be on a late Friday evening, and with a stiff drink in your hand, you tried to ignore the ruckus happening around you. Emptying your first glass of the night, you were about to call the bartender over when a man took a seat right next to you.

“What’s a nice lady like you doing in a dump like this?” The stranger asked, his breath reeking of cheap liquor.

“How original,” you said dryly, not even turning to look at him properly. You just wanted to be left alone in peace. Was it too much to ask?

The man simply brushed off your comment as he ordered two bottles of beer, not giving you the chance to ask the bartender for a refill. Huffing, you rolled your eyes at him as he tried making awkward conversation with you. You couldn’t have appeared any less interested at that moment, yet he was oblivious to the fact.

“Babe! I’m sorry I’m late.”

You whipped your head to the side and saw Johnny approaching you with a wide grin.

“Babe?” The stranger hissed, his face turning red once Johnny was standing near you, an arm draping behind your shoulder and pulling you close. “You didn’t mention that you were with someone.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Utah answered for you. “You shouldn’t be bothering women like that. Didn’t you see her face? You were boring her to death!”

“Johnny,” you chided him. “Enough.”

“Yeah, listen to the lady, Johnny,” the other man sneered. “You don’t look like you treat her right. I think she’s with the wrong person.”

“Dude, just please leave us alone,” you spoke, hoping that the situation would die down.

“Whatever,” he muttered as he got up and began walking away. “She ain’t worth it anyway.”

Johnny was ready to throw a punch when you quickly gripped the back of his shirt and held him back. “Stop, it’s okay.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled bitterly before his attention went back to you. “You alright?”

Nodding, you smiled a little at Johnny as you patted on the empty seat beside you. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for that. I was ready to walk out of the door until you showed up.”

“I’ve always had great timing,” he chortled, sitting down on the bar stool as the bartender came by to take his order. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, and—what would you like, babe?”

Babe. The word fell from his lips so effortlessly, and you froze for a second. You thought you would have scolded Johnny for calling you that by now. But as the two of you continued to gaze at each other, it never came.

“I’ll have a margarita this time,” you requested without glancing away from Utah. “Are you stalking me now?”

“What? No, I’m not,” he chuckled as the corners of your mouth curved slightly. “Honestly, I’m not. I was in the area and decided to get a drink.”

“Okay,” you responded, believing him. “How are your stitches?”

“Still intact. My wrist is also doing fine now that the swelling’s gone.”

“That’s great,” you pointed out. “I thought I was going to have to treat you if a bar fight were to erupt back there.”

Utah shrugged slightly. “I would have gone through with it if you hadn’t stopped me. No one should speak to you that way.”

“Thank you, I really appreciated your help, Utah. Perhaps I’ve been too tough on you.”

Johnny blushed as your drinks were set in front of you. Raising your glasses, you clinked them both together before you each took a sip from it. You had never imagined having drinks with Johnny, but now that you actually were, you thought that it was quite fun. You felt at ease, the stress and tension from today’s shift melting away.

You talked the entire night, sharing laughter here and there. You weren’t sure if it was solely the alcohol to blame, but you found yourself letting your walls down for Johnny, no longer feeling guarded around him.

And it was blissful.

The conversation flowed so smoothly between you two that you didn’t realize how much time had flown by. The more you learned about Johnny, the more you started to believe that he was a genuinely good guy. And if tonight was any indication, he truly cared about you. As you chatted, you wondered in the back of your head if Johnny had been right all along.

Maybe you did like him.

“So,” he said as he slid some money across the counter to pay your tab along with his. “About dinner?”

You giggled before hopping down from your seat. “You are a very persistent one, Agent Utah.”

“After tonight, you owe me one,” he remarked, moving near you to offer you his arm, which you gladly accepted.

Together, you exited out of the establishment, a soft and chilly breeze blowing through your hair. The streets were silent as you strolled down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. A part of you didn’t want the night to end yet since you were enjoying your time with Johnny.

“Surfing? The FBI paid you to learn how to surf?” you questioned him, approaching the steps leading up to your apartment building.

“Yeah, they did since I was undercover,” Johnny revealed as he halted, his hand still holding yours. “And before you ask, it turns out I’m pretty good at it. I should give you lessons one day.”

“One day,” you repeated as you felt him squeeze your hand. Nearly a full minute went by before you cleared your throat. “Well, um, I should really get going. I don’t want to keep you for too long.”

Johnny released a light chuckle, the butterflies immediately fluttering inside your stomach at the sound of it. Feeling bold, you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek before you let go of his hand. He gave you another one of his charming smiles, causing your heart race.

“Until next time, sweetheart,” he grinned as he watched you head up the stairs, only to stop when you reached the last step.

“Hey, Utah,” you called out. “I’m free tomorrow night if you still want to have dinner.”

“I’d have to check my calendar,” Johnny quipped, and you pretended to look annoyed. “I’m just teasing you. Of course, I would love to have dinner. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Sounds great,” you agreed, waving goodbye to him one last time before walking up to your door, a smile tugging at your lips.

Johnny Utah was an overconfident, cocky bastard, but not anymore. Not after tonight.

Not when you were finally his.

#johnny utah x reader #johnny utah imagine #johnny utah fanfic #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #point break #reader insert #my fics #request

[spidermanifested]

love those little elf shoes on greed. santas worst helper because he refuses to hand over the presents

his little elf shoes are my Evergthing

#glasses orb makes an inquiry #fullmetal alchemist (fullmetal alchemist)

[writeangstime]

Fortune teller (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Title: Fortune Teller Fandom: Peaky Blinders Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader Genre: Drama (a bit) Warnings: None right now Summary: You are a novelty in town and no one knows what you are up to, so naturally you are the new talk of the town. Are you friend or foe? Thomas needs to find out and you are not helping.

Author’s note: So it is late in here and I wanted to post it right now because tomorrow my work will kill me. I’d love to make a series with that, so if anyone of you actually read this and would think that the continuation is a good idea, hit me up anywhere you want.

Every new face in Birmingham was an interesting thing that somehow could be either a game changer or another face in the crowd, but there was something behind them. A family name, a reputation that could tarnish even the most spotless personality or character that, blossoming in the hard times, showed the best or maybe even more, the worst of the person. But you didn't.

You were something of a mystery that nobody in town could ever wrap their head around it. Because one day a black car moved through the streets, stopping in front of one shop and you stepped out of it, nonchalantly as you belonged to this world and no force in the world could ever stop you. Well-tailored clothes that nicely wrapped around your posture and moved swiftly for whatever your goal was. It might be an oddity or an anecdote that would reappear from time to time when the locals would be bored and the gossip source would run dry. But somehow, you decided to stay.

Half of the Small Heath found an excuse to be there the day you decided to move into one of the empty houses, the men walking all around the place, coming in and out of the place as they brought more and more of the things the people around this place could only call "exotic". It was fair to be said that it was the best moment to consider if there are enough safety locks on your doors that would stop some people too interested in buying a decent amount of food from even one of those expensive rugs or pretty vase. But then, when they noticed a bit more about the people who helped you, they knew better than to try anything.  Then, of course, they expected that you would go out, meet your neighbours, get them to know yourself and pull out any kind of reason why someone like you moved to the place like this. But no, before they could learn anything basic about you, even something like your name, you disappeared inside your house and didn't show up for a while.

It couldn't go unnoticed to Peaky Blinders, especially since Thomas preferred to hold his hand on the pulse, so she had to know what your presence can offer. Even if this would be nothing, it would be the best option as he already had enough troubles without a suspicious stranger lurking around. To his utter disappointment, the information about you was basically non-existent - no knowledge what was your name, where you came from or where you have been born, and even how you came up with that small fortune on your own. This left a bitter taste, because not always he could admit to himself that he was struggling with something. Not that he wanted to, defeat being left out of his conscience when he left still smoking shores of France, but this issue could bring troubles in the future - were you planning any action here that would shuffle the local powers? Did you come for reasons that were only your own and shouldn’t influence others? Tommy even sent people to shop you stepped in when you first set your foot in town, but the only thing he learned from that was that you ordered the weekly groceries, paying in advance. Why were you hiding? 

***

Pushing the heavy wood of the doors in front of you, you couldn’t help but frown a little, feeling the heatwave from a lack of good ventilation, the scent of alcohol and something that probably was vomit and hearing the roaring of the drunken men, but at the same time, this was far from keeping you from entering into this place. Smoothly moving through the entrance, you didn’t even establish the glance with people who gazed at you, both the one that were too blazed out to even recognise your presence in this place or the one that were too vigil to ignore the fact that you decided to step into the Garrison and decided to show yourself to the world in the den of the wolves. But little on your face did credit to any emotions you’ve been feeling right now and as you hover over the darkened wood, looking straightly into the bartender’s face, there was no way of telling what hid behind your stern eyes. 

“Pardon my curious inquiry, but I was wondering if Mister Thomas Shelby is free for a brief meeting this evening” you stated your reason, a small smile creeping a bit in the corner of your mouth as you measured the person in front of you with a gentle yet somehow strict look, almost like you had an upper hand in this situation. Your interlocutor probably didn’t share your views on that matter as he barley glanced in your ways, the hands dedicated to the tab and glass he was holding, almost like, unlike some if this place, he wasn’t phased with your sudden appearance.

“I am afraid Mister Shelby is not here, and even if he was, I am afraid we have very rigid principles about his privacy”. It was like a formula that kids have to memorize at school and somehow it made you think a bit of the scolding that one could earn if they didn’t heed. Did the infamous Shelby brother hit his workers with the rulers if they misbehaved? Or was it already a sentence with a bullet? Rather not, the business would run dry with the number of executions.

“Ah, but you know, I am well aware that he is inside, so let’s say I consider this a friendly and outward visit. Something he didn’t bother with when we spoke about his efforts to invade my privacy. So what will we say, shall we introduce ourselves in a proper adult way, or the games of charade should continue?” Your nails started to tap a small rhythm on the countertop as you seemed to pay a little attention to the unfriendly gaze. This apparently worked in the way you wanted, partially at least, for the man in front of you moved his head to one of the boys that just stood up from his seat, going to the place you could only guess was private enough that setting foot there was almost a privilege. Mouthing the small ‘thank you’, you moved away, hands nonchalantly put into your pocket as you decided to stand there and wait, not caring about your surroundings or the rumours that probably started to spread. You were here for only one thing and that thing was going to happen - at least this was what you could suspect when the man appeared in front of you, gesturing to follow him.

***

“I hope you understand that is rather an unusual circumstance and the decency requires to present yourself in more official ways….” the sentence made by Tommy was trailing at the end of his tongue as he left some space for the moment of your introduction. He predicted that sooner or later he would face you, but maybe not like that - with you sitting right in front of him comfortably spreading yourself in the chair like this was a chat with a friend you haven’t seen for a while and rather a curious gaze as you watched the light reflexes on the glass in front of you, carefully spinning it in your hand. Almost like you paid a little attention to this whole situation, even if you “arranged” it in the first place.

“Then we must thank the Lord for decency in this world and good people who know that time is money and one shouldn’t waste it” you commented with what was an almost singing and chirped tone, but at the same time gave some coldness that came mostly from your eyes, your own orbs meeting the ice blue ones. But for once, you leaned more to him, your hands now resting on your knees as you moved a bit closer, the everlasting smile not leaving your lips. “I am afraid that for the next month you will be stuck with my presence here, and that presence wouldn’t exactly follow your rules of decency”. 

The silence fell when he waited for more explanations coming from your lips, but once again, your interest seemed lost as you grabbed one of the grapes, looking at it with some kind of interest before your gaze once again returned to him. Though there was an urge to grith his teeth at this moment, he stopped himself, instead of that reaching his fingers to lift a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up with the warmth of golden sparks. 

“An awfully specific period” he commented finally, noticing how you seemed to realise something in your thoughts as you tilted your head a bit, shrugging your arms with such an innocent demeanour one could believe there was nothing behind it. 

“One that can’t be helped in this matter. But I think we both can agree that there are certain things that can’t be rushed. Or can be, but with little...decency”. It almost made Thommy raise his eyebrows, the amount of the repetition and the prolonging almost bordering on being irritating. As well as your demeanour, the shroud of unknown that you loved to just hide behind when you felt comfortable like that. Was it the wise caution for anyone that came fresh into this town or an irritating habit of yours? He wanted to settle this, but once again, you were speaking before he managed to. 

“I came here tonight to mark my presence and knowledge to your doing, but neither the time nor the place is proper for the real introduction. Tomorrow you have some business on the horse races, so I guess this would be a good place to meet and talk” you came up with first reasonable words since you entered the room, and you stood up, preparing yourself to walk out of this room, knowing when you finished the talking that this was your time to go. Besides, you were a busy human being and there was much to do, with the night being still young. Only when your fingertips brushed the knob, you heard the low, smooth voice behind you. 

“You will get one hour. Nothing more” he spoke, no longer looking at you as he settled a bit, moving to take care of the business that was interrupted by your arrival. Nodding slightly, you opened the way in front of you, swiftly turning and shooting the Shelby man one last look before you produced a small laugh.

“An Eternity in an hour” Tommy could hear before the door closed, cutting you from his view, but sadly for him, not from his mind.

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tom shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #fortune teller #thomas shelby imagines

[unyieldingvalxr]

This is a Rescue? Maybe?

@honorhearted​ continued from X

The cessation of constant motion allows exhaustion to find the very fiber of every muscle in Elsie’s body. She barely resists the urge to collapse into a heap on the grass floor before the messenger had even departed the canvas dwelling.

The major’s offer is considerably tempting as the aches in her bones beg for relief. Were she to rest even for a millisecond, she was sure she’d fall into a deep slumber. Right now, she could scantly afford even the briefest of delays. So she stubbornly remains standing. She’d already wasted precious time seeking out Washington’s Northern encampments, tracking them over a stretch of across over at least fifty miles on top of the arduous and perilous seven hundred and sixty mile journey. Every time she had gotten close, the trail nearly had grown cold. Her tracking skills were an invaluable asset.

“Ben,” she chokes out his name. He was the first friendly face she’s seen since her departure of South Carolina. Her sea-glass orbs fixate upon him fondly though they do not depart with their airs of worry at his approach.

His inquiry causes her to take in a sharp breath and it is expelled in a rush. “Aye.” Her gaze flashes about the tent as if there was immanent danger. It was a force of habit even though she reminded herself that she was relatively safe in the camp. “Colonel Welborn Doyle...” She starts, “he raided and destroyed Snow Island. It’s practically burned to the ground with the help of some traitor.” The ammo, guns, stores, food, tents, and everything else had been destroyed. Yet, that wasn’t the most grievous of revelations she would have to make. “Not only do we have nothing .... my father... and... and his men are missin’.” They’d been taken captive. It makes her miserable to think about what could be happening to them right now. She would have been with them had Francis not sent her on an overnight scouting mission. Now, a part of her wishes she had been there. Maybe one more hand would have helped turn the tides in their favor. If not, at least she would have known what the enemy was doing to the men and her father.

Elsie had come back to the campsite to find seven men brutally murdered and fifteen so badly wounded they were not taken with the others. It was likely they too would be added to the number of casualties. She had stopped briefly to add a few of them to William Goddard’s planation where they could be helped by the local doctor. 

Elsie typically would have no qualms about performing a hit and run against Doyle’s forces on her own, but she knew the stakes were far too high. His numerous men were set to rendezvous with Colonel John Watson’s at Whitherspoon’s plantation right off of Witherspoon’s ferry. 

She desperately required help. Ben was more than a capable soldier, he was a skilled leader. More so, Elsie trusted him and solely him. Even if she despises asking for help, she has no other choice. “I... I was hopin’....” She props herself up against the back of his chair but does not allow herself the comfort of collapsing. “Was hopin’ you’d help me... if ya could?” Tiredly, she feels her stance wavering and her grasp white-knuckles his chair. 

#honorhearted #Muse: Elsie Marion #she probably hasn't slept in DAYSSS and she's trying to fight through the fatigue like - nope. Sleep is a form of weakness... need to be on #the move #but also she's had an awful series of days #I mean all of marion's men were probably super tightknit under so much pressure #which makes things worse cause Elsie would have known the men killed by doyle #She can only hope they haven't murdered her father too #Look who got one reply to you XDD

[zhonglishrine]

God is Good and never Evil

Pairing: Reader x Fyodor Dostoevsky  Word Counts: 5k  Note: There’s a lot of heavy context in this with religion and too much unnecessarily  philosophy talk of Good and Evil. Originally from my fanfic that I have unpublished and now were revised as stand alone one-shot instead. Credits to my friends Negin, Mel and @soukokuwu​ for helping me proofread this one and everyone else who helped me with the definition of Good and Evil!

He always thought that he was complicated and no one could understand him. It might be difficult, yes, but not impossible, if you could catch up to the level of his intelligence. But that might also prove to be challenging, as no one actually knows what goes in that genius head but Fyodor himself. He appeared hard to predict and read, and trying to figure him out will only wear you out in futile attempts as he is always three steps ahead of everything, and that’s how he believed himself to be: superior and above everyone else.

Where was he?

Just as you were running out of places to look, you figured out where he might be. If he wasn’t in his private library reading his massive collection of books, then he would be inside his music room, spending time alone with his mind while playing his dear cello. He always spends his time thinking about various things; about the world he wants to cleanse and simple things that he came across in his martyr. You know your dear Fedya, he is an excessively meticulous man- perfection is what he always strives for and no mistakes are permitted. Sometimes when in doubt he would go back just to make sure everything went according to plan. Despite his overbearing confidence, he bites his thumb until it bleeds, and the gnawing exhaustion shown on his face when he is deprived of sleep after staying awake for several days straight, lets you know how fragile he still is. 

After all, no matter how grandiose his claims are to you and how ridiculous they might sound, he is still a mortal being. No God would bleed and no God would need rest like he does, because isn’t God supposed to be all perfect? He still has his limits, though you always want to remind him not to push his frail body too much. How little he would bite off his loaf of bread, simply adequate to satiate his hunger and no more, his body emaciated day by day with the little care he put. However, Fyodor doesn't like it when he is reminded of those petty things, and so most of the time he prefers to be left alone. No words are spoken on the topic, but you know; he doesn’t need to explain every single basic detail for you to know. He knows what he is doing and needs no mothering from you or anyone else. He can actually be a bit childish and immature sometimes, and that's a trait he didn’t even realize he had; flaws that he didn’t want to admit but you noticed.

He is still a young man, too young to shoulder all the rest of the world’s sin, but he took the matter into his own hands and let it be soaked and tainted in blood of his sacrifices and fallen victims within his act of mercy. 

Entering his room, a tray in your hands with a glass and ferrous sulfate tablets for him to take, you carefully tread your steps forward, not making any audible noise to disturb his moment of quietude. 

The tranquil and calm tune overflows like an external heartbeat with each rhythm, and the volume crescendo in sweet vibrations octave to your hearing ears. His nimble and deft movements on the instrument play ever so gracefully, creating the heavenly sounds that soothe your quivering heart. 

There are no words present, but every dance of his slender fingers on each string manifest their own poetry, and it guides you to an ode to his own universe. He changes his pace and tone, sometimes quick and sometimes it becoming slow, his eyes shut closed as his delicate hand moves the bow, scraping the hair against the string as he angles it differently. His raven tresses draped around his pale complexion follow his movements as he tilts his head with the tempo, his legs spread and toes curling the more he gets into it. He was in his own world and he is sending you an auditory message through your mind, telling you the unspoken journey he has gone through in his pilgrimage, inviting you to join him sail over the oceans of tunes that filled the grandeur ambiance in rapt silence, like he was the captain of his ship and you were his crew.

When it is faint and low – he is feeling sorrow and sadness.

When it is heavy and strong – he is feeling regret and remorse. 

When it is high-pitched and piercing – he is feeling angry and furious.

When it is gentle and soft – he is feeling bliss and a sense of gratefulness.

There are so many emotions he conveys through the cello that rests against his frame on his left shoulder, as if he was lamenting alone from the exuberant song that he orchestrates. Akin to how waves would crash through the shore and saturate every breach lying within the grains of sand, it rushes to fill your hollow soul. This tide continues to flourish, seeping into your veins and healing you like a divine medicine with the superfluous melody as you continue to watch and listen in great trance, almost as though you were spellbound by it. There's just something about how Fyodor can make it sing and scream so beautifully it’s so painful to hear.

Just what is this...?

Why...why have you started to cry...?

Your hand clutches at your chest, clenching down. Why does it hammer so painfully inside your ribcage? It was as if the music was the exact voice that you have long since lost. Your throat burns in quietness and your vision becomes blurry with a dot of crystal pearl, until it drops and becomes a small rivulet staining your cheek. In the equilibrium of each note he plays, it tells a different story. A story that you felt as if you were a part of it. From the beginning of birth, soft and calm, it portrays the innocence of a newborn baby that you are. Then, it starts to pace up slightly, the progress of your life. As you grow, you face struggle and hardship in life, and it starts to go faster. A lot of details then take place, you experience a variety of emotions like a crashing wave, you make a decision and you sin through your voyage. And at the end, it becomes slow again, life becomes slower and the flame that ignites you starts to dim until it eventually extinguishes as you take your last breath.

Just like the music that grows ever so faint, it eventually fades by the end of the bow that caresses against the string before it departs.

Fyodor opens his eyelids, revealing a pool of his violet orbs with a crescent shaped illumination within, soon after a stillness encompassing the air with serenity. He flutters his lashes, his gaze landing on you as you still stand with a tray in your hand before him. Your glossy eyes sparkle like rubies before the dull brightness of the candlelight, and you simply keep on staring at him with never-ending tears. At this, Fyodor curves the corner of his lips to form a thin smile, then speaking to break the silence, "Tell me... what do you think of Good and Evil?"

Fumbling with your thoughts, you thrive to answer the sudden inquiry with your muddled mind. Fyodor plays another classical piece of music to fill the gap in the meanwhile. Perhaps it was from Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Rachmaninoff or from someone else entirely. You weren’t sure which one, since he knew many different famous composers, but that is not important to guess right now. 

"Good is..." You begin, ransacking your brain to formulate your thought and remember what the definition of the concept is. There are many standards for good and evil around the world as noted by philosophers throughout history, and it differs with each religion that exists, but for the basic definition of it, then they are almost about the same. It is akin to two notes in the same symphony. Each thing in nature changes according to the opposites; like hard ice melts into water which is then soft, the combination resulting in a harmonious whole. Just like how it is in music, harmony results from the combination of low and high notes, while in our universe harmony flows from the combination of the opposites that are good and evil. 

"Having the moral and compassion to do the right thing. And evil is the opposite, it is wicked and in all immoral sense.” 

Fyodor raises his brow slightly, hearing rather a short reply from you. "But if I do evil deeds for the greater goods of mankind, what does that make me? Do you think evil is not necessary after all?" He counters your statement, and you know exactly what he means by it, as he planned to wipe away all ability users from this world. Regardless of races, genders, and ages. There could be an innocent child that never did any bad deed, there could be an old man waiting for his last breath, there could be a woman who never knows they have the ability. Regardless of the sacrifices he shall make; he will still make his goal come true without any sparing mercy and treat them all equally. Like plucking the weeds before they grow wild in his garden or trim the one that has wilt.  

“I am not sure about that. But isn't evil supposed to only bring harm?”

Fyodor subtly chuckled, and you were unsure whether he agreed or not.

“Then I will have to ask you something. Do you like scorpions and snakes?”

Again, when he is in the mood to indulge himself with these sorts of discussions and questions, he always asks the strangest thing and you always have to dissect the meaning behind it, whether he was thinking about it or it is just something random that crossed his mind. 

“Well, I don’t really dislike them. But they are poisonous and dangerous if not handled carefully.”

“True, that is the most logical thing to think. However, that wasn’t it at all.” 

“May I know what you mean by that?” 

Pressing the topic further, he scrapes his bow in a deep thought, a few seconds elapsed in his silence.

“Scorpions and serpents are poisonous indeed. But are they really good or evil, for they are existing beings? Yes, a scorpion is evil in relation to man; as is a serpent; but in relation to themselves they are not evil, for their poison is their weapon, and by their sting they defend themselves."

Fyodor remembers that he has read the quote somewhere when he did his research before. He had a deep fascination to learn through different religions there in this world. What makes it interesting for him is how every single religion has its own God and belief but none of them can prove their God exists. At the very least for him, that’s the conclusion he came to. That is why at one point, he thought that if there is no God then he would become one himself. His God complex didn’t just develop in one night, it took him many, many days and nights searching for his answer and he found none after seeing the world at its demise and the despair it has.

Interesting thing about what he just said is that, Good and Evil is the embodiment of how his ability is. Still, it was a mystery to you, but you have seen how it works when Fyodor touches someone and they drop dead and fall to his feet, just by the tip of his fingers. Crime and Punishment that is neither good or evil. In the eyes of someone he might have seen as someone dangerous with that ability, a demon clocked in angel disguise, but neither can they judge which one is his true nature.

And if all people aren’t good or evil and they're just people that sometimes do cruel things because they have to, you wonder what that makes him if that was the case.

The evil one?

A demon?

Or... a Savior?

"So your intentions...define itself with what good and evil is as long as you know."

He hums, "Care to elaborate it?"

"I... l think it depends on our belief, the interpretation of our choice. Good and Evil is a paradoxical concept that is inherent in human nature, but man has to be rational with them. People are inherently “evil” while society's perspective of good comes from sustained effort. It is a very humane construct because it has to do with morals, and pretty much because no other animal has this compass. There are several concepts of good and evil, first is the collective good or evil, in which society dictates what is what. This however, differs for each individual, depending on their own moral compasses so they may agree or disagree with society. It helps maintain societal structure, but at the same time, good and evil can be viewed as pretty nonexistent simply because it is a social construct.” 

He listens to your explanation as his hand never stops from playing the instrument. Again, you continue.

“But such trivial concepts are just definitions pun on abstract concepts. There is no line between good and evil. It's only the perspective that defines how something is seen, close to how war is portrayed by the winner in a way and by the loser in another way. That's why in some cases, murder can be good. Because in the eyes of a murderer, it's always good. Even the people that do charity sometimes do it to feel good themselves and beliefs say that itself is a sin therefore a bad thing. Since everything came and was given birth by God itself. He is the one that creates everything, all things that are good. But good things alone can be evil if one indulges too much in it and evil things can be good as long as we stay away from it... but purely based on intention is not all right either, for mere intention cannot make a bad act good. But a bad act performed in good faith can be excused but it cannot be classified as a good act either."

Based on your answer, he took his time to assess and ask you the next inquiry that piqued his interest.

"So, you do believe in God's existence too?"

"I..." You ponder for a moment before answering, your tongue somehow feels somewhat dry with the said inquiry. "I am not sure... there can be one, and there can be none. It depends on the reality we see, and the faith we held or the religion we have. I'm sorry if my answer is vague..."

"Hmm. It's fine, I don't blame you. I understand." He assures you and arches his head upward, exposing the bulb of his Adam's apple that was visible on his exposed neck. In this moment, he relished the time when someone was engaging in his long spiel.

"The good want power, but to weep barren tears. The powerful goodness want: worse need for them. The wise want love; and those who love want wisdom."

Fyodor says in soft oration, quoting a line from Percy Bysshe Shelley. "In the Garden of Eden, God creates an apple and forbids Adam and Eve to eat it. He is who all-knowing, know that one of them would eat it, but yet he still created man in immature form, created man that will end up resorting to eating it, created the talking snakes knowing it would coerce man into eating it, even already predicting it and going as far as to plan on what state would come after they did. Now which decision was good and evil? Was it a good thing to eat the apple if a man knows that was good for them? Or was it evil to go against the God that created them because they were tempted by the very snake He created?" 

Although it seems as if he is asking you, the question was more so directed to himself, so you do not speak to answer him. He continues again with a solemn voice, Fyodor shifting his head again and now staring at the floor, "Sadly, since the beginning, humans are already reigned by sinful nature. They know the consequences of their actions, yet they still can not resist and repel the radiance from the fruit itself; to taste the knowledge of Good and Evil. They then bring chaos to this world, staining the land with corruption from their deadly vices and tyranny. You have seen how foolish humans can be, haven't you? The futile war that you fought, the countless meaningless bloodshed that you witnessed, all because the stupidity that was bred from humanity itself as they keep repeating the same history."

Casting your gaze down into your reflection on the surface of water, there are faint memories flashing by from when you were a soldier. Though not very vivid, the vague image is still there, flickering at the back of your mind in a blaze; the image of mangled bodies, blown apart children, blood running into gutters, rain of missiles dropping like flies on the ground and explosions everywhere blowing up like fireworks. You were there in the front lines, fighting for your own people, for their peace and nation, ready to sacrifice your life. But that was all a fleeting memory of your past; you do not need it anymore. Albeit, there is this simmering feeling that stirs within the deepest recess of your heart, a raging feeling of being betrayed and being cast aside and locked down for years. All because of fear. A fear that came from the fruit of knowledge itself that you were a dangerous ability user. With the said knowledge also comes power, with power comes corruption, and with corruption comes evil; where power becomes absolute, so does evil. War is like a disease festered inside man's heart, and it spreads like a plague and wildfire. Yet sometimes, it’s a necessary one, when the conflict could not be resolved in a peaceful way and war was unavoidable. Then, was it a good thing if it involves mass sacrifice? In a world where the hierarchy of power and different classes of society exist, could man settle the conflict without getting into argument, without evil influence their judgment and without discrimination between their different views and opinions?

Even up until today, there's no ending for human suffering and pain. Left and right you can hear the screaming silent voice cry out for Justice, with a voice pregnant with tears, broken hearts and despair, and the blood of innocents that was spilled when the world's leader moved their piece on the world map like playing a game of simple chess against their opponent. From the first World's War, the Holocaust, systemic genocide, gulags, famine, earthquakes, disease and so forth. All were rooted from the cause of Evil. And Evil first entered the world because Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, which God had forbidden them.

"But... if God did not create the apple in the first place... then would Good and Evil cease to exist?" 

Fyodor scrapes one long tune, he closed one eye from your question with another thin smile.

"A predictable nuance that one would think of if we were to avoid all the root of origin. If we put the blame to God itself by essentially placing all blame on Him, then it will prevent the problem of humanity blaming each other. But the problem of evil is the problem of accounting for evil in a world created by an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God. It seems that if the creator has these attributes, there would be no evil in the world. But there is evil in the world. Thus, there is reason to believe that an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good creator does not exist." He says with a scoffing voice, "It is therefore natural to think of God's commandment forbidding Man to eat of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge as ironic since God Himself had planted this very same tree in the garden. If God hadn't placed the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden in the first place, Adam and Eve wouldn't have sinned and the world's problems would be moot." He changes his bow pace to create a different tune, "If God exists then, he is testing the virtue and the faith of man by placing the tree in the garden. Then, a man by their own free will may choose their decision to choose between Good and Evil. Back to my question earlier, man could choose to obey the commandment and choose to do Good, or man could choose to disobey the commandment and choose to do Evil. However, if both choices ceased from existence, then humans will truly be free from their sins. But that would mean that people would have no choice to do evil, since evil is completely being erased. And without the choice of doing good, people will be happy not because they are happy, but because there is no longer the choice to be sad. They will only experience positive emotions, because the concept of suffering and pain has been removed and taken away from them. But would that really be a bad thing if one wishes to continue feeling happy without all the negative emotions? And would that be a bad thing if one will not make any evil deeds anymore? The line between good and wrong is distinctly thin after all as you said, as human is stupid to differentiate between what is Good and Evil for them." Fyodor gives the answer then counter it back with his question.

"However, wouldn't that be a blissful world if there was no Good and Evil? Ivan is the perfect example for that concept of being robbed from his negative emotion to be in a state of eternal bliss without any suffering had the apple never been created in the first place, and he would do all Evil simply because he does not see it as Evil since Evil does no longer exist in him." And he, as though acting as God, praised his own creation in delight and fervor that it reflects in his eyes. "You said it yourself that the Good and Evil interpretation is based on what we believe. That isn't exactly wrong now, is it?"

You remain silent to think about it for a moment. Then, with or without it, the world is still fated to be doomed. Evil is still created through man's misuse of his own power to act. He gets into evil of his own. Man misuses his discretion to act under pressure of his desires and satisfaction of his sentiments. That is why man is a sinful creature. With their own carnal desire, they will end up destroying each other even knowing the outcome and aware that they were being controlled by their own avarice. Simply, a foolish human being as he always stated. 

Fyodor finishes playing the cello and the music fades from your ears. You instantly feel like you miss hearing it once he has done. 

"Ah, pardon me for making you listen to my long ramble, you can put that on the table, I will get to it later." He gestured to the tray you held since the start that has few tablets and glass of translucent water. However, you knew better than anyone else that he might get engrossed into his work later on and forgot to take it so you have to be stricter. 

"It's fine... but Ivan would be mad at me if he knows you haven't taken your pills..." You reply back with an even tone, but your hand was quivering from the intense feeling whirling like a torrent inside your heart from listening to his soliloquy, unsure how to feel. You love listening to his voice, and you were trying to digest every word he says. Each time you listen to his long speeches, it's like he is telling you a bedtime story, but with heavy context related to his ideologies. It always left you to think with your own reasoning. Fyodor took notice of that, and he rested the cello on its stand. He gestures to you to come closer to him and your feet move on their own as if he has a magnetic force to command you so. 

"Make me," He said with a small smirk adorned his visage.

You creased your eyebrow in confusion at first, "Sorry...?"

"Make me so I can take those pills." He repeated again, now with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"How do I make you?" Your question was anything but innocent. However, for him, that just gives him a chance to tease. A moment he would rarely display.

"Here, I'll make it easy for you." He took the pill from your hand. "Now..." And he guides it to put it on his tongue as he parts his mouth. "Make me swallow it."

Faint blush erupted across your cheeks, and your usual straight expression slightly flustered. Seeing you that way, he merely chuckled. "Hmm? What are you waiting for? Didn't you say Ivan would be mad if I didn't take my pills yet?"

"Ah, yes... that is true." Gulping and with your shaky hand, you place the tray at the nearest desk, taking the glass to sip an amount of water hesitantly. Your eyes dart everywhere as you don’t know how to proceed and avoid eye contact with him as you close your eyes, leaning closer to his face inch by each with your heart beating loudly. You can smell his lavender scent; you didn't know whether it was from his shampoo or his perfume, but nevertheless it invites and guides  you. You then open your eyes again, seeing he was looking at you with such an amused expression when you felt his warm lips collide as he drank the water from your mouth, your whole face beginning to heat up again and how you wish you could disintegrate by embarrassment right now. Fyodor tucks the strands of your hair behind, and the lump from his throat swallowed both the pill and the water you transferred to him directly. His tongue sweeps across your moisten lips and he tugges it teasingly in between, nibbling it softly. You relish it as much as you can, desperately craving the affection he gives you for some more. 

He broke the kiss, gazing at your flushed face as he lifts your chin to prevent you from looking elsewhere with a small chuckle, "Now, that isn't so hard, isn't it?" 

How you hate it that he could pull this confidently without getting flustered as you are. All the more reason when he is enjoying it. But you can never resist him, can you? Not after he has taken so much space inside your heart.

"F... Fyodor..." Your lips tremble calling after his name, there was desperation laced in your voice, a need in your eyes. He looks into you with an adoring unadulterated gaze. 

"Hmm?"

"May I...?"

"What? Oh? You mean that..." Understanding what you want from him, Fyodor spread his arms widely. "Alright, you may as you wish." 

Enveloped by his frame dearly with his consent, your hands hug his warm body and you rest your head against his solid chest, hearing the rhythmic beat of his heart. Although he plays such beautiful music with his cello, there's no music that ever sounds better than this. You feel his warmth spread on you, and when he returns and gives you a hug back, placing his hand at the back of your spine and he begins to stroke it, your heart swells with happiness. His touch is like a remedy to your starved soul, and it wasn't frequent that you get the chance to be with him this way since he was rarely present at the base. 

Fyodor is indeed a strange man, and his mind is always complicated to understand. You never know or could tell what he was thinking. He is no God like Prometheus, not son of Lapetus and Themis. Not the champion of mankind known for his wily intelligence, who stole fire from Zeus and the gods and gave it to mortals. He is just he, a human named Fyodor Dostoevsky. A man who is acting in the place of God to carry the Good and Evil in this world. To bring salvation and destruction that humanity needs. He took the burden and huge responsibility on his own. That is something that you do admire him greatly. Albeit feeling a bit sad that you could do nothing but can only watch his back.

When he talks, you love to listen and take every detail in. You take a breath in and take in his scent again, calming you, feeling safe to be with him despite the reputation he has. Fyodor is not a man that is a fan of great affection; skin contact with another human being is a foreign concept to him. His ability could be activated at any moment if he so desires it, and then you would die in his arm in serenity. He would cleanse you off from your sin without any pain that torments you further. But he let you savor and indulge the solace he could provide you for now, as he did not dislike the company you have provided him as well. Strange as it may sound to him, he now secretly craves for the attention you give to him, as if he is the only center in your life and you are the only one for him, his dorogaya. How you wish you could stay like this with him forever.

However, you know, forever is a grand wish to have, as there is never a good thing that will last forever as it is with evil in this world.  Until the end, he will stand alone, just like God he aspired to be.

#fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungoustraydogs #bsd #I never like my works before but this is the one I can be proud of #maybe #fyodor actually doesn't want to take the iron pills #that's why he drag the conversation #as noted of my friend before #he is being extra and more dramatic than gogol lol xD #tell me what you think about this #I hope I don't mess this up #not a christian so things might not be correct

[emerald-amidst-gold]

_(:3」∠)_

Well hello, here am I to bother you again 🌟

Listening as they rant about something they're currently obsessed with.

You are no bother! Not at all! D: I adore these asks, so always feel free to make my inbox explode with them! :D

Ooo, this one will give me a chance to share dragon theories! YESSS! REJECT CANON, RETURN TO FANFICTION.

***

"Have you read this compendium on dragon breeds and their characteristics, yet?", Fane asked as he sat up on their shared bed, back leveraged by the pillows and worn book of deep red and black in his lap. He had just started reading and already he was seeing crimson.

"I have not, but the way you are currently glaring at the pages as if you wish to burn them tells me I should.", Solas piped up from where he was sitting beside him, for once not reading and instead examining a peculiar artifact they had found in the Hissing Wastes.

"Don't waste your time.", Fane said with a low growl, furiously flipping a page to actively gape at a following depiction of a male dragon. "Oh, for fuck's sake! How many more books do I have to dig for until I find one that has a proper depiction of a male!?", he snarled, eyes narrowing as he tried to find one, just one, characteristic that sounded home to him.

And he found none.

Solas chuckled. "What precisely are you looking for, vhenan?", he asked, the delicate scent of magic making itself known around them before it dispersed, the mage willing it away so as not to spur Fane's sensitivity. Honestly, he couldn't even find the energy to be sick with how infuriating this was!

"Larger wing span, thicker scales with double layering! One layer is for major protection against elements and potential fights with others!", Fane rambled off, mind whirling, racing with ancient knowledge born from experience, and something he couldn't quite pinpoint. "The feet and legs should be farther apart due to a wider chest and hips! Head shapes that are denser, but pointed, jagged spikes of bone marrow jutting from the sides to form the main horns!", he continued, not all hearing the soft tink of metal being set down and the shifting of covers as a body moved closer. "And the eyes! The fucking eyes are one color, Solas! They should be--!"

A sudden warm sensation against his lips had Fane's tirade dying in his throat and eyes going wide, blinking a few times until his stopper of flowing, irate words pulled away to give him an amused smirk, but deep adoration was visible within a blue sky with wispy grey, the setting sun streaming in from the stain glass windows haloing them with its own version of a sunset, deep blue lightening to lavender.

The sky was here, and it was beautiful.

Solas' smirk grew a bit from his stunned state. "They should be..?", he prompted, a spark of indigo telling Fane that the mage found this to be...riveting.

Fane blinked, mouth slightly agape. "Uh..", he uttered before another spark of indigo had him swallowing thickly. "They should be two. Two colors.", he said, tongue heavy and head mildly fogged. Why was it so hot all of a sudden?

"Mm-hm.", Solas hummed, leaning in again to give his cheek a soft kiss, lingering against the skin for a while longer to whisper. "What colors do your kin usually possess?" The inquiry calm, but laced with incandescent heat as Fane gazed down with hooded eyes, ire soothed, rage quenched.

"Brown and amber for desert dwellers. Blue and sea foam for sea. Verdant green and a paler version for forest. And snow..", he rambled on, slowing as the sky watched, listened to him with raptness, a smile blessing him, a hand coming up to caress a cheek. "...emerald and gold.." The final two toned hue falling from his lips with a whisper and an airy chuckle. He understood the point of this now. "I think you might be a dragon, my sky."

Solas chuckled, stroking his cheek with a thumb. "Why is that?", he murmured, a few fingers curling inward to graze the scar along his cheek, but now sorrowfully any longer. Fane leaned into the gesture as a small smile graced his own features.

"Because your skills of observation might be better than my own.", Fane said, turning his head a bit to lay a firm kiss to an open palm. He smirked a bit when a light hitch came from Solas, but stormy orbs remained calm, devoid of ulterior want as they gazed up at him.

"Nonsense.", Solas whispered, voice low, tone making his ears twitch pleasantly. "I merely know how you are, and how you can get when faced with discrepancies." The statement a light tease, a jab no more harmful than a nudge to his ribs.

Fane snorted. "And how do I get?", he asked, knowing the answer, but wanting to play this game, dance this dance as the hand caressing his cheek held it more firmly, the palm like fire, but its presence like cold rain upon cracked dirt.

"You get very passionate.", the mage said with a fond smile and glint of deep affection in swirling eyes. "A fiery inferno that wishes to blaze the world with knowledgeable heat. It is a sight I adore seeing, but one I know must be tended to lest it scorch the earth too deeply."

Fane hummed. "Want to tame a dragon, do you?", he teased with that question, knowing that once it had toed a delicate line, but now those thoughts were no more than passing thoughts, devotion having tempered them, a bond having whisked them away like the wind.

Solas shook his head, leaning to lay a few kisses against his cheek, his jaw and finally, his lips. Fane reciprocated with each of his own before their foreheads rested together, eyes connected, souls on full display as two hands, instead of just the one, came up to hold him in place.

"I do not wish to tame one, no.", Solas murmured, one hand ghosting up to push Fane's bangs back, leaning in once again to kiss at the spot just below one of his eyes before pulling back to smile at him. "I wish to see one fly, but its wings must be guided by acceptance, not rage."

Fane blinked before chuckling deeply, wrapping his arms around a warm torso, pulling it flush to nudge at a lax cheek with his nose. Where would he be without his wind, his guide, his sky? Forever grounded, that was were.

"So, you're saying you want to hear me ramble?", Fane joked, actually beginning to purr deep in his chest as slender fingers began to comb through his hair. Solas smiled at him, unreserved and unfettered, seemingly basking in his response.

"I do.", Solas agreed, stopping his massage of his scalp for a moment to wrap an arm around his shoulders before resuming the action, occasionally scratching just how Fane liked it. "Your passion is addictive, your soul untethered in regards to your kin. It is one of the many things I adore about you, my dragon."

"My one track mind?", another joke falling from Fane's lips as the atmosphere of dusk as well as soothing fingers was making him melt. Damn, he loved the evening..

"I love you.", Solas said firmly before chuckling as Fane leaned into nibble at his jaw. "...And your one track mind, yes.", he added with a fond sigh. Fane chuckled before pulling back, opting to just rest their foreheads together to watch the sky shift and change its never ending gradient.

"Well, I love you, too.", Fane reciprocated, actually smiling more as Solas' expression softened further before it turned to a smirk. "And your one track mind."

The response Fane got was a light laugh and shake of a head, but exasperation was nowhere to be, disbelief no more than a bitter memory as the sky twinkled with blue and grey - its own two toned hue that would have any other dragon frozen in an awe with the amount of emotion it possessed. And that easily drowned out the rage and ire of a world so mired in misinformation and lost knowledge.

***

This one may have, sort of gotten away with me because HNNNNGH. Fane rambles about dragons, gets angry. Solas listens like a lovelorn fool, cools dragon. Ta-dah! :D

#prompts #dragon age #solas #oc: fane lavellan #solavellan #*lays down and sighs happily* I love this hell :3 #I hope you enjoyed it! X3 #thank you again and never feel bad about dropping any ask! I love them so much! :D

[lunarxdaydream]

🍻+ "is there something you have never told anyone?" ( Nolan - Satine )

drunken confession || accepting

     Lips part in a gentle exhale, fingertips pushing the empty glass across the table. Tucked away in a booth, they are allowed the privacy she sought but under the weight of fear, alcohol seemed the only thing to numb it. Or at least most of the unease as the question she once dreaded is set forth. Glassy orbs meet Nolan’s gaze, a breathtaking hue of blue still just as mesmerizing as the first day they met. Will they still stare at her so lovingly tomorrow? 

     “... Yes.” A single word falls free as an elbow rests against the edge of the table. Warm cheek propped for support as her thoughts are unable to properly filter out. Considering the delicacy of the topic, choosing her sentence structure was imperative ... but fuck -- she can barely keep her legs from shaking. Her eyes almost want to look away and pretend this was just some silly inquiry that demanded no answer ... -- but now was better than nothing. If she didn’t tell him ... if she didn’t at least give him some semblance of honesty on her behalf ... what will happen when he finds out from someone else?

     Lie, her instinct begs but the mind refuses. “... I am an adept liar. Keeping secrets is my specialty.” There is no glimmer of amusement in her eyes. No indication of any ill-timed jokes to be found. “... You ask me to be honest ... but neither one of us can do it ...” Fingers reach out to grab hold of the empty glass again. Pads pressing tighter if only to squash the strange weight that threatened to rise from her chest. “... I lie ... because I love you.” 

     But even the secrets had a limit. If Sofia’s assumptions were correct ... -- it was only a matter of time before Nolan caught on. Hiding behind the guise of a work trip would no longer suffice if the effects took longer to recover from. “... You never asked me ... how it was that I managed to kill your friends.” Or maybe he just didn’t want to know the answer. Perhaps he had left it as sheer luck that a human could even fight on par with engineered artificials. “... I ...”

     The words suddenly feel stuck. Her gaze wavering as the calm mask cracks to reveal the uncertainty. The fear of even uttering what she has been doing behind his back. Not weeks. Not months. It was years of hiding. “...” Swallowing became painful. Her eyes stung but she refused to allow the tears to rise. For the first time in her life, guilt could not be so easily thrown under the rug. She wouldn’t try to hide it anymore ... even when every instinct in her screamed to leave. To change the topic. To do anything to preserve the life they have built together. If she said the truth ... if he were to know ... -- the future would burn up in flames. 

     For better and for worse. How could she make a promise like that if she didn’t tell him now? “... I ... kill for a living.” And suddenly it felt as though the world became smaller as the words escaped her. “... I specialize in covert operations. Infiltrate. Eliminate. Collect valuable data and send it to be sold to whomever the highest bidder is ...” He’s going to leave her now, isn’t he?

     “... An opportunity came up to be part of a project that enhanced our abilities. Candidates were carefully selected based on skill set, physical examinations ...” Knuckles pale as the hold on the glass tightens. “... I volunteered ... when I realized it meant ... I could do something about those who hurt you ...” 

     “... The serums can have unstable side effects ... but it was enough to make me on par with your ... friends ...” All these years and the guilt of hurting them ... -- the look on Nolan’s face when she had refused to end her hunt. How he was left without a choice but to alert them to force them into a new hiding ... “... I never stopped using them. During my assignments, I’ve injected them enough times that now ... -- the physician believes they’re binding and ... we don’t know ... what will happen over time ...”

|| @vacuitas ||

#( Satine || answered ) #vacuitas

[xxsanshinexx]

Sk8er Boi

Happy Birthday Yeosang~

Characters: Yeosang x reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 5721

Summary: Kang Yeosang always came in with some sort of injury. Hand, knee, cheek. You always had to patch him up. But now, you were a little concerned as to how all of this was happening. ~

He came in everyday, as soon as the bell rang, with a new scrap somewhere on his body. On monday, it was his cheek. On tuesday, it was his elbow. Today you could only imagine what kind of odd wound he would come in with. You always pondered over why he had such peculiar injuries; they didn’t tend to add up with any reason you had came up with. Fighting? Seemed like he would have more than such small wounds. Extremely clumsy? Doesn’t seem like he was one to fall down the stairs and only scrap his kneecap.

The whole persona of Kang Yeosang was rather peculiar.

You reorganized your notebooks and papers as flocks of students came in and out of classrooms. The occasional couple hugged each other farewell, the friends screamed at each other from down the hall, and the late sleepers ran in through the door with massive bedhead. It was always fun to watch your classmates scramble in as you sat there; having already been seated and ready minutes prior. And then the bell rang, students scrambling to get into their seats and your favorite person was still nowhere to be seen, not even as your teacher walked through the still open door.

“Good morning class,” Mrs. Jeon greeted, adjusting the glasses on her nose once she came to the front of the room, “Please have out your notebooks, pens and a highlighter for today’s lesson-”

The sound of frantic footsteps made your teacher pause, a knowing look befalling her face. In an instant, Yeosang stumbled into the room, breath ragged and face slightly flushed. It was an everyday occurrence for him to halt the morning greeting by barging into class.

That’s why Mrs. Jeon could only sigh as Yeosang gave her an abashed smile, “You’re lucky i’m nice, Mr. Kang. Anyone else and you would have been in detention more times than I can count.”

“Sorry Mrs. Jeon,” His voice was quiet like always, with that added raspiness that never failed to make you listen a little more attentively.

Mrs Jeon just shook her head and gestured to Yeosang’s seat which was right besides yours, “Just get to class on time Yeosang. This really is going to be the last warning.”

Yeosang just nodded his head as he flung himself into his seat, throwing his backpack on top of the desk to rummage through it for supplies. He always had this messy quality to him. His black hair was always a little windblown, his eyes always a bit dazed, and his clothes were always a tad ruffled. Even the snapback on his head was off-kilter.

He had apparently found what was needed for class and pulled it out, along with an apple and smoothie bottle- he always ate in the beginning of morning class. Setting his bag down, as Mrs. Jeon began to get into her morning lecture, he finally noticed your lingering eyes. His dark orbs stared into your questioning ones for a few seconds before quickly advertising them towards his blank notebook like words were suddenly going to appear on the pages.

You chuckled a little at how mismatched his interior and exterior was, “So what is it this time? Your knee again? Cut your finger?”

“I-um…” He glanced up to Mrs. Jeon, who was too immersed in teaching to notice, and then decided to pull back the sleeve of his hoodie. You hadn’t noticed his sweater paws before which managed to cover the entirety of his hands, and you were almost glad. The top of his right knuckles looked like it had been scrapped off, dried blood matting his skin enough so that you winced. His voice was quiet as he picked at the forming scabs on his hands like it was nothing but paint on a wall, “My hand this time.”

“I don’t think a bandaid is going to be able to cover that one,” Your voice was of equal quiet as you ducked you head with a pencil in hand, avoiding the inquiry of your teacher’s eyes.

Yeosang nodded besides you as he began to write the lecture title, rather sloppily, with his injured hand, “A couple bandaids probably would.”

“You’re literally still bleeding.”

“Do you have any band aids or no?” He pouted, hand shaking with effort as he tried to follow the pace of Mrs. Jeon’s speaking.

You shook your head with an exasperated sigh, “After this class ends… I’ll wrap your hand and everything.”

“Thanks Y/n.” His little smile of gratitude, a rare sight, was enough to get your heart racing.

“No problem,” You averted your eyes to your paper, trying to find interest in the ideologies of the Enlightenment instead of staring at him like an idiot, “ just try not to get blood everywhere for now-”

“Miss L/n, Mr. Kang!”

“Sorry Mrs. Jeon!”

The bell signaling the first class of the day being over came as you began to doze off on your notes on Plato. Not even the vibrant colors you added to your papers keep you awake at this early hour. You were nearly out when a gentle hand knocked on your desk.

You groaned in annoyance and turned your head away from the disturbance, “Go away.”

“Y/n my hand is bleeding again.” Yeosang’s exasperated voice sounded from right above your head. You tilted your head upwards and sure enough, there he was; clutching onto his wounded hand with worry clouding his features.

A small sigh sounded from you as you sat up, reaching into your bag for supplies, “I thought I told you not to pick at it.”

“To be fair you told me nothing of the sorts,” He huffed, wiping away some of the blood that was threatening to drip onto the floor.

“I’m sorry I thought it was common knowledge,” You pulled out a box you had deemed “Yeosang’s personal emergency kit” and set it on top of your desk. There was bandaids, tape, gauze and other small medical necessities piled within it; all because Yeosang was too afraid to go see the nurse. You even wondered why you bothered to become Yeosang’s personal doctor; maybe it was his little hopeful smiles, the shyness in his eyes or the fact that you had a big ass crush on the little, quiet nuisance.

“I didn’t think it would bleed this much,” He added as you stood up and gestured for his hand. Begrudgingly, he placed his slightly bloodied palm in your own and you inspected it with worried eyes. He had seriously scrapped it on something, most likely cement, and had managed to rip off a fair amount of skin.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you took a wipe to his skin, cleaning it with the as much gentleness as you could manage. He hissed a little at the sensation and an amused chuckle escaped your lips as you cleaned up all the red, “You have to stop hurting yourself, Yeosang.”

“It’s not like I try to,” His breath brushed against your forehead as you worked and you were thankful your head was down. “It just happens.”

“Mutilating your hand doesn’t just “happen”.” You huffed, setting down the bloodied wipe and picking up a piece of gauze.

“It can.”

“Are you seriously going to play this game,” You laughed a little as he looked away from you, a small pout on his face as you began to lay the material against his injury. “You just need to be a little more careful.”

“I’m careful,” He whispered, though it was laced with his own uncertainty. You could only shake your head at him as you finished up your makeshift bandage, wrapping his hand tightly with tape. It was quiet after that; you finishing off his hand and him just watching in complete awe. No one was ever this kind to him, no one willing to just drop their freetime to wrap him up. You had always been so kind to him from day one and he didn’t understand it.

“And that is why you come to school with a new injury everyday,” You rolled your eyes as you ripped the tape and set the rest of the roll back into your bag, “Seriously what would you do if I wasn’t here to patch you up?”

“Probably bleed to death,” His little joke made a smile break out on your face as you smoothed down the ends of the bandage. Your hands were rather small in comparison to his, you couldn’t help but notice this fact as you finished admiring your sloppy medical care.

Yeosang didn’t seem to mind that it wasn’t entirely up to medical standard.

Your smile shifted into a frown as you ran your fingers along the ends of the white wrap, “How do you even get these? I don’t mean to pry or anything… it’s just worrisome.”

His facial expression became one of uncertainty, and you knew you had immediately crossed some invisible line, “Um… well, I just.. Uh-”

“You don’t have to tell me, it okay,” You promised and retracted your hand away from his, saddened by the sudden lack of warmth.

He seemed to have a mental argument, his facial expression shifting every so often to encompass his thoughts. His nose would scrunch up when he looked to the side and his mouth would pull itself into a tight line with he blinked. You had no idea which side one you just knew it was all rather cute.

“Ah… fine-” He reached forward and took your hand in his once again, making pink tint your cheeks at the sudden contact. His eyes now had a new conviction in them, “Can you meet me at that giant tree out front, right after school?”

“Sure,” You said, your brows quirked up in interest at his entire change in demeanor, “You’re not going to kidnap me, are you?”

He got a little flustered at your playful teasing and frowned, “No.. why would you think that? I guess it is kinda odd- we could meet somewhere else if you-”

“The tree is perfect, Yeosang,” You laughed and the worry in his eyes seemed to vanish at the sight of your smile, “Just don’t stand me up, okay?”

“I won’t,” He promised, giving an enthusiastic nod, one of the most expressive actions you had ever seen him do, “It just might take me awhile to get there after class.”

“You’ll have five minutes before I get suspicious.”

“”I can live with that.”

Now you stood, with an excited feeling coursing through your veins, under the large oak tree at the front of school. Many other students lingered underneath its branches, either for shade or just a place to stand until their ride came. None of them were looking around anxiously for a quiet boy, fighting the grin that wanted to appear so badly on their face. Yeosang still had around three minutes until you told him you would take off- not like you really would either. You just had to say something that wouldn’t embarrass yourself or make you seem to eager to finally hang out with him outside of the confines of the classroom.

Your unfathomably large crush on the mess of a boy began the first day of the school year.

“Is.. um is anyone sitting here?” A quiet voice asked as you reorganized the pens on your desk for the fifth time that morning. You had gotten to school the first day much to early for your liking.

You nodded without looking away from the color spectrum you had built, “No, feel free to sit.”

The owner of the voice took the seat without another word and it made you frown a little. Everyone else had begun to chat it up with their new seat mates, the entire room was filled with their idle chatter and screams. Yet this boy didn’t even seem to make a single noise; having retreated to playing with the hem of his shirt sleeve.

You pulled your eyes away from your creation of boredum and glanced over to him, breath suddenly caught in your throat. Your initial thought was that he was absolutely beautiful and you had never seen him before in any of your classes. You had a feeling you would have remember someone with a facial structure like that- and not to mention his dark eyebrows that framed his features nicely.

You snapped your eyes away from his face before he could catch your wandering eyes. Instead, you focused your attention on his hand; where a small amount of blood was running down the side of his finger. How in the world had he already hurt himself? There wasn’t anything dangerous in this school or maybe this pretty boy was just naturally clumsy? Wouldn’t that be adorable.

“You’re um.. You’re hand’s bleeding.” You mustered up the courage to say, eyes trailing the drop that continued t snake its way down his finger.

His head snapped up and he glanced over to you, eyes almost dazed and showing a hint of freight. It made a small frown appear on your face as he averted his gaze, pulling his sleeve up to cover the majority of his hand, blocking the small injury from your sight.  “I know.”

“You know?”

“I just didn’t want to go to the nurse…” He said, eyes glancing over to you in almost sheepishness as his voice quivered for a second, “She uh-she scares..me.”

A small smile broke out on your lips at the boy’s explanation, “You don’t worry about Mrs. Choi, I always have stuff on me.” You reached into your bag, pulling out the small bundle of bandaids your mother had given you as emergency. She knew you weren’t to fond of going to the nurse’s office for small things either. “Here.”

“Oh.. I.. um,” He reached forward which his unhurt hand and took the small bandage into his hand, careful not to touch you in the process. His eyes held gratitude but a panicky smile was teetering on his lips, “I-thanks- I mean uh.. thank you..?”

“Y/n.” You felt your heart thump a bit erratically at the smile, shy but happy, that began to grace his lips. It was a contrast to the nervousness that was originally making them twitch.

“Yeosang,” His little smile grew, so much that it reached his dark eyes making it look like the stars themselves resided in them, “my names Yeosang.”

You knew that was the exact moment Yeosang’s name was imprinted in your heart. How chessy the whole thing was, your whole current situation was, every time you added Yeosang into the equation. The thumping of your heart and the lovesick emotion made you cringe- it all felt much too like a bad teenage fanfiction. You had little reason to think of Yeosang in anyway other than a friend yet your heart decided that it would go rambo whenever you caught sight of his messy hair.

Like now, as you spotted him bolting out of the school with his eyes searching the area around the tree, you heart opened fire on all your emotions. It took all of your will power to fight the blush or the childish grin that so badly wanted to appear in his presence, and became even harder when he caught sight of you- a new, timid smile taking place on his lips.

He bounded over to you, hands wrapped tight around the new object in his hands, a skateboard. You never understood why he was always so nervous, not even as he stopped in front of you- hands tapping a light beat against the board. You let a cheerful smile appear on your face as you stared at him, taking in the snapback on his head that was still crooked, “So you didn’t stand me up?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that to anyone,” He pouted but there was a light in his eyes, “Why do you keep making it seem like I would.”

“I’m joking, chill,” Your laughter bubbled out of you and you could have swore Yeosang’s lips twitched upwards, “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I thought you were a bad guy… whatever it is that you invited me to do.”

He cocked his head to the side with an unreadable expression, “I told you, I’m gonna give you an answer to how I end up with all those injuries. Now, come on.”

You raised your brows at the new confidence in his voice but nonetheless followed alongside him as he took off, glancing back every so often to make sure you were following. The two of you fell instep with one another as he looked everywhere but you and you looked at the board that was vice gripped in his hands. “I didn’t know you skated.”

He looked back to you from the birds in the sky, finding your eyes already looking into his. To say his heart fluttered was an understatement. He feebly nodded his head as he turned his old board around in his hands, a sense of pride beginning to swell in his heart alongside something else. “Yeah… it’s one of my favorite things to do.”

“So you’re one of those X games boys?”

You got a scoff in answer, though his eyes lit up at the mention of the event, “Is that all you know about skating?”

“That and apparently the fact that you should wear bubble wrap whenever you get on that board.”

The laughter that bubbled from him was something you had never heard before. It was soft and lighthearted with a joyful undertone. A complete contrast to the reserved and quiet scoffs he would give you in class instead. A smile lingered on his lips as he spoke, the mesmerizing noise still lingering in your mind, “I’m not bad at skating. I just try to do too much.”

“Like what?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Like tricks and things. This morning I tried to do a 720 Gazelle flip and-” He flung his hands out in exasperation- one of the most expressive actions you had ever seen him do- and then gestured to his bandaged hand, “I ate it. I don’t even know how I ended up on the ground.”

You were perplexed at his sudden change in nature and the words that had came out of his mouth. “A… 720… Gazelle flip?”

He looked over at you as if you had just asked what air was. The sight made a giddy smirk break out on your features, “It’s one of the hardest moves! It takes even professionals a while to understand it and perfect it! I don’t even think Nyjah Huston could get it in the first couple of tries-” You had stopped listening to his passionate ranting at this point, fixated on the ways his eyes lit up, how his eyebrows moved up and down with his emotions and how his hands moved about when he talked. You had never seen this side of the shy, quiet boy who sat besides you in morning classes and you had never been more captivated by him than in his moment of passion- albeit for something you had no knowledge on. “-and now I’m in this bet with a guy who thinks he can learn it faster than me and I need to beat him- he thinks he’s so much better than me! I can’t let him have the satisfaction of winning a twenty dollar bet-”

He was still on his tirade and you could help but let out a giggle, effectively making him stop talking and blush in embarrassment. He had no idea why he had told you all of that. He barely even told his own mother half of the things he had just spoken freely about. You thought the whole thing was rather adorable, even more so as he raised his board trying to hide his face behind it, “Sorry I didn’t mean to ramble on about all that… I know you probably don’t understand it or probably care all that much-”

“Can you show me this… Gazelle Flip?”

He pulled his skateboard down a little, turning his eyes slightly to meet you amused eyes, “720 gazelle flip.”

A laugh left your lips once again as you rolled your eyes, “Fine, can you show me this 720 Gazelle Flip?”

He swore his heart stopped at your smile and he could only give a feeble nod, “Yeah but I’m not good at it yet- I’ll probably mess up or something! I don’t want you to think I’m-”

You reached out and took his free hand in a spur of courage, trying to effectively stop his rather cute rambling. It worked because as soon as you wrapped your fingers around his bandaged hand, his eyes went wide and the words on his tongue faltered. “I won’t think you’re bad at skating, if that’s what you’re getting at. I just want to see what it is, no judgement if you fall because I could never attempt it.” He gave you a little nod and you could feel his hand relax against yours, wrapping his fingers around your own ever so lightly that pink began to spread across your cheeks. “Now um uh… where are we even going?”

“The skate park.” His voice had reverted back to the timid one that woke you up at the end of class except this time red was plastered against his usually pale features. You weren’t sure how much better you faired, especially not as he moved to intertwine your fingers in his flustered quiet. Neither of you made a move to let go, not as you walked on in silence to the park that was a few more blocks away.

The park wasn’t exactly what you thought it would be. Sure you had seen them on tv before but it didn’t really encompass the whole laid back vibe of the place. There were no scary looking men or anyone hung over; it looked like the place was mainly teenagers or college students just looking for an output or something to do. And while the scenery was a bit gray, it wasn’t dull. You liked the overall feeling of such a place, and maybe it had to do with the fact that there was a special person right besides you.

“There’s not that many people here,” Yeosang mumbled as he began to lead you towards a relatively flat area next to the skateboarding pit.

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked as he he stopped next to a raise piece of cement. You could only assume it was usually used for tricks.

He shook his head no, “Just means less people will see me eat shit.”

His comment made you laugh as you rather regretfully let go of his hand and sat on the cement. From there, you would be able to get a good view of the gazelle whatever Yeosang was so adamant on learning. “I’m sure you won’t eat shit.”

“I’m most definitely going to eat shit, Y/n,” He reaffirmed, setting his board on the ground and taking his cap off, pushing all his hair back, “Don’t be too mad if I use up all of those bandages in your bag.”

“What’s new,” You leaned back on your hands as he hopped on his board, pushing himself around the area softly. “Now let’s see this gazelle flip thing.”

He shook his head and mumbled a soft, “720 gazelle flip,” before he began to pick up some pace. For a few moments, he just rode around getting used to the feel of skating after a long day of school before turning back towards you who was just intently watching. He slowed down a few yards away from you, seeming to take a deep breath and then managed to lift him and his board up in the air; both of them twisting and turning too many times to count until he tried to land back on it. Again, he did try. His foot hit the board but his body hadn’t rotated enough for him to stick the landing and he jumped backwards, stumbling for a minute before ultimately sitting on the ground.

“Even if you failed,” You said as you gave him a soft clap in approval of effort, “it was still impressive.”

“Love the encouragement, Y/n.” And then he was up again. And again. And again. You had lost count how many times he had ultimately failed at getting that trick down. Everytime he was at the point of frustration he would take his cap off, ruffle his hair and place it back on his head backwards. And everytime you would make sure to shout him words of encouragement, which left a small smile on his face that didn’t fade until he did another failed attempt.

“You’ll get on this one, Yeosang,” You cheered, still immersed in watching how he never gave up despite the countless fails. His nodded his head as his lips tightened, forming a thin line in concentration as he set back off to attempt the flip another time. It was amazing he hadn’t given up yet. The determination to win this dumb little bet was evident as his eyebrows furrowed together as he attempted once again to complete the little trick.

And your jaw dropped once he finally landed it, with no wobbling or shakiness to his finish. It was a feeling kin to winning or achieving something grand, even if you weren’t the one who had done it. Upon the initial shock of landing it, Yeosang looked up at you with wide eyes and a mouth wide with surprise, “Holy shit.. I landed it! Y/n I landed it!”

“I knew you would eventually!’ You grinned as he came to a stop right in front of you, a grin now plastered on his features.

“Oh Mingi wishes he didn’t start this bet with me,” His voice was cocky now as well as the smirk on his face as he sat down on his board, the ends of his shoes just touching yours.

You rolled your eyes, though it was more of a way so you didn’t stop and stare at him. His hair was wild underneath his cap, his eyes alight and for once self-assured, and the smile sent your way didn’t do anything but make your face go red. “You still have to perfect it and then show it to this Mingi.”

“Oh let me relish in this moment, Y/n,” He laughed and took his cap off, running his hands through his hair slicked with sweat.

You laughed a little at his words and tapped the ends of his worn out vans with your toes, “Now onto the hardest trick you’ll ever pull off.”

He looked back at you with confusion in his eyes, “That is the hardest trick i’ve ever pulled off-”

“You’ve haven’t taught me how to skate yet.” You smiled as you spoke, and near grinned as Yeosang laughed at your challenge, “If you can pull that off it’ll be a miracle.”

“I don’t think it’s that much of a challenge,” He stood up and wiped his hands on his pants before offering them to you.

“You clearly underestimate how awful I’m going to be at this,” You took his hands in your own and once again that giddy feeling was weaving its way through your body.

He just shook his head and stepped backwards, over his board and onto the otherside, “Skating isn’t that hard, just don’t fall off.”

“Jeez, how much motivational can you get.”

“What? That wasn’t good enough?”

“Nope, just fantastic; really reminded me of when I broke my leg and my mom told me to walk it off.” You huffed as he guided you to stand right in front of the small skateboard. Granted, you were a little terrified. Never once had you tried something as simple as skateboarding, maybe your spur of the moment challenge hadn’t been the best idea.

“I’m sorry I lack the eloquence of a motivational speaker, now just step on the board.” He braced his hands as you stepped up on to the small piece of movable wood, doing your best to balance at the change. To an outsider, you probably looked like a newborn foal; with your wide eyes and stiffness. Yeosang seemed to notice your change in demeanor and gave a small smile, his thumbs rubbing gently on the back of you intertwined hands, “Loosen up a little.”

“That’s easier said than done,” You placed both feet onto the wood, clutching onto Yeosang’s hands for dear life. “You’re like a pro at this.”

“I started where you are at one point,” He shrugged, moving backwards slightly and making the board move causing a breath to hitch in your throat. You were still uncomfortable and entirely off balance; there was no way you could just ride around the park.

“Do not go fast,” You warned but a little smirk flickered at the corner of his lips.

“What? LIke this?” He began to pull you a little faster and you felt like you were going to fall off at any second, though in reality he was in no more than a fast walk.

“Oh my God, Yeosang!” You cried, as he continuously sped up and the only thing you had from keeping you from flying off the board was your intertwined hands. You had no idea Yeosang could be so playful.

He cackled amongst your protests, slowing down a little to appease you and your screaming, “You’re not even going that fast!”

“It’s still terrifying!” You protested as you began to roll to a slower pace, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Well there’s first times for everything,” He stuck his foot out to stop the board, and while the motion stopped your movements rather gracefully, you still flailed at the abrupt stop. Yeosang was quick to catch you by your waist as you teetered at the edge of the board, holding you in place. Your heartbeat quickened at the sudden contact and you straightened up, putting your hands on his outstretched arms; both of you having no intentions to move.

It was the first time you had been this close to Yeosang. Now, you could make out the full shape of the charming birth mark on the side of his eye, the full dull color of it. He had expressed to you once before how he wasn’t that fond of it, but in that moment, your were completely smitten. And maybe it was the way his hair fell in his eyes despite his attempts to keep it in his hat.  And that little mole on the side of his chin or the sparkle in his gaze. Or maybe the way his eyes trailed over your features as well, seemingly lost in thought like he was memorizing every detail, that made you smile in complete content.

“I…. I really want to hang out with you again.” Yeosang said, almost breathlessly as his eyes trailed back to meet yours. “Outside of school and all.”

The words made that feeling of content grow into one of complete cheerfulness, “How about that cafe down the street tomorrow? After class?”

“I’m gonna make you skate there.”

“You’re ruining the moment, Yeosang.” A giggle erupted from you at his teasing and he just smiled, brighter than before.

”That sounds… perfect.” He nodded, looking down at the ground for a second before turning back to meet your eyes, “Just perfect.”

You could feel the both of you lean in slightly. To be honest, you never pictured this; you on a skateboard and Yeosang just staring at you, with a smile on his face. You certainly never pictured him leaning in, just close enough for his ragged breathing to fan over you.

And by God you would have kissed him if it wasn’t for that annoying voice.

”Is this what you’re doing instead of practicing for our bet!?”

”Dammit Mingi why did you have to show up now!” Yeosang turned and yelled at the tall figure that stood at the edge of the skate pit, apparently sharing the same sentiment you did. This Mingi just laughed and hoped off down the ledge, disappearing from sight as a red faced Yeosang turned back to face you. His head didn’t face you as he busied himself with playing with the loose ends of your shit, “I-um… I’m sorry about Mingi and everything that was just going to happen and all that… and yeah.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You gave him a gentle smile but he didn’t look up to see it. “I’ll head home so you can properly go beat this Mingi’s ass without worry. I’ll see you tomorrow? Okay?”

“No.” He said, voice firm as his head snapped up to meet you eyes but he averted them immediately, “I mean uh… just.. Watch me win this bet first and then I’ll walk you home… and we can just um maybe get ice cream or something.”

You chuckled at his shy tone that never failed to make an appearance as you brushed away some of his hair from his eye. It only seemed to make him more red, and you were sure his face had transformed into the color Crayola crayon as you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “That sounds like a great deal.”

Yeosang was thoroughly dumbfounded at the sensation of your lips against his warm skin. Never in a million years could he have envisioned the day you two had together; the conversations, the moments, god even him getting you to laugh- and definitely not the kiss to his forehead. He could have never imagined that. He looked back up to you a look of wonder in his eyes, “Holy shit.”

As much as Yeosang’s reaction made you giggle, head tilted back as the laughter flowed out of you, another voice broke your pure moment. “Yeosang’s got a little lover! Get it-”

“Goddamn it Mingi,shut up!” Yeosang cried in annoyance once again, looking back up at you and as soon as you both met eyes; all you could do was laugh.

#yeosang #kang yeosang #ateez #ateez fanfiction #yeosang fanfiction #ateez fluff #ateez oneshot #ateez imagine #ateez headcannon #ateez drabble #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #yeosang fluff #yeosang oneshot #yeosang imagine #yeosang headcannon #yeosang drabble #yeosang angst #yeosang fanfic #atiny #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #san #mingi #jongho #sk8er boy #xxsanshinexx