#Conference Room VII | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1d1195 · 1 year

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Traditional VII

You can read the rest of this series here: Traditional

I've heard lots that we're excited about this part, please keep that in mind as you read and try not to hate me by the end of it. Also, a huge reminder I don't know much about business terminology, concepts, or situations.

“Oh, love?” He said quickly right before she hung up.

“Yes?”

“I’m so proud of you,” he told her.

Can you bring this file in? FYI Harry’s mad. Don’t be alarmed.

:( be right in

She hated when Harry was mad. Nothing made her more nervous than when he was angry. She had only seen it a handful of times. Fortunately, it had never been directed at her. She was hoping to keep it that way. But moreover, she hadn’t been an immediate witness to his temper either. In the six months she had been at Styles Incorporated, she had only heard him yelling through Niall’s phone or from an office she passed. Unbeknownst to her, whenever he yelled or got frustrated, Niall did everything in his power to ensure she wouldn’t be around. He did it regularly because he knew his track record with the interns before. But now he did it because he was Harry’s best friend and as his best friend, he knew how much this girl meant to him, even if Harry wasn’t fully aware yet.

Of course, there was nothing to get mad about outside company walls. So, when he was angry, all she felt was worry and sadness. If Niall needed her help mid-meeting and he was mad, then it was dire.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the meeting title on Niall’s schedule one last time. The meeting was held for the last three hours of the workday with the anticipation of finding a solution within the first hour. But they hadn’t so it was now approaching hour two. She grabbed the appropriate folder making sure the name on the meeting in his schedule matched the folder in her hand. She had looked over that file with Niall not too long ago. Like an epiphany, she knew the reason for Harry’s anger. She wished she had told Niall this morning all the research she had been doing before he went about his own business. Or at least asked what his thoughts were on what she had done. Unfortunately, since landing in front of Harry and Niall this contract issue had been all-consuming and there hadn’t been much downtime for her to get a word in to either of them while at work. It was especially too late now. She had no idea what they had discussed up to this point. Grabbing the folder off Niall’s desk she hurried down the hall to the conference room. As she was told on her very first day, she knocked and entered. But her heart was beating out of her chest like she was in trouble. She entered in the middle of Harry’s rant, and she made eye contact immediately with Niall who sent her a quick wink to keep her calm. No one looked at her except for Niall. The idea of even glancing in Harry’s direction made her too nervous to do anything.

“— as I’m concerned we can stay here all night until we figure out a plan!”

The venom in his voice made her uneasy. She was so shocked that the man that previously rubbed petroleum jelly all over her body and kissed her like she was made of porcelain could produce such a sharp tone that it made her almost visibly cringe. There were at least fifteen people seated around the large table. No one looked at Harry. They all typed rapidly on their laptops looking for solutions.

“If someone doesn’t come up with something in the next five minutes, I’m going to start firing someone every 10 minutes until the end of the day,” he growled out.

Naturally, Niall was seated beside Harry at the farthest end of the table from the door. He was the only one who looked calm. She didn’t know how he could sit right next to him so unaffected. Must have been nice to be his best friend. She walked slowly. As if she walked that slowly, Harry might not see her. She didn’t want him to see her. She was worried he would get mad at her reflexively. Which didn’t make any sense because it didn’t involve her at all. But it didn’t matter. His anger made her sad solely because she cared so much about him—whether he knew it or not.

“What if we ask one of them to le—”

Harry turned his head like he was in a horror movie and just possessed by a demon. He spoke toward the person about to say (arguably, even from her perspective as a lowly intern) the dumbest thing she could have ever imagined someone saying at this moment in time. “You’re not about to recommend that one of our biggest clients leaves?” He snapped bitterly. She flinched almost imperceptibly at his tone. “What the fuck am I paying the lot of you?” He grumbled under his breath.

Everyone was avoiding eye contact with everyone else, not just Harry. “Does anyone have a semi-intelligent idea, or should I start firing people?” She couldn’t believe how harsh he was. But that’s why he was the boss, and she was just an intern. “Someone better say something useful in the next fifteen second or everyone—”

At the same time Harry spoke, she handed the file off to Niall. The silence was approaching near deafening. “Thank you, darling,” he whispered.

Without her realizing, her anxiety of Harry’s anger proved to be too much for her. The need to find a solution, offer a solution bubbled out of her mouth without her brain’s consent, she spoke just as Harry was about to fire the whole group. She wanted it to be whispered to Niall but her brain, as always, was so wrapped up in Harry that her mouth bypassed all rational thought. It took her a moment to notice it was her own voice speaking. “Why don’t you just have them partner together so it’s a mutual agreement between them?”

The moment the words left her lips, she slapped her hand over her mouth with an audible smack. She closed her eyes and refused to make eye contact with anyone. “I... am... so sorry,” she glanced finally at Niall. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, lips parted in shock. Like he was just as frozen in disbelief as she was. The outstretched folder in his hands hadn’t even fully made it into his possession yet. If she thought the room was silent before, nothing compared to the ear-piercing quietness now. After another moment suspended in a long pause, Niall turned to Harry.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he mumbled. Harry appeared shocked by her outburst as well. In fact, for the first time all day it seemed, he was speechless. His eyes were scanning her like he had only just noticed she was there. Maybe she was lucky, and walking slowly did make her invisible.

“Go on,” Harry said. She could tell he was still wildly irritated, but he bit back his frustration once he realized it was her. That made her nervous in itself; she hoped no one paid any mind to how he lessened his tone. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I-I don’t—” She shook her head.

“No, go ahead,” Niall said encouragingly and rubbed his forehead at the same time, so he was covered when he winked at her without anyone else at the table seeing behind his hand.

“Uh...if...you partner them before you ask for what you want out of a merger...then it avoids a conflict of interest,” her voice wasn’t unsure, per se. She was confident she was correct. But she was terrified of Harry. Well...not...her Harry. Not that he was hers...but the version of him that cared for her in some capacity. He would never make her feel stupid or question her.

“Oh, we can’t seriously be taking an intern’s advice,” a woman at the other end of the table said. She glanced at her and could feel her own face warming in embarrassment that she was so thoughtless to say anything.

Harry’s head snapped toward the woman at the other end. Since she specifically did work for Niall, she knew nearly no one other than Harry and a few people from IT and HR. She didn’t even know the name of the woman that somehow took offense to her idea. “I’m sorry, did you have an idea?”

“There’s no way she knows what we’re talking about. She’s not even supposed to be here. This meeting is confidential.”

“Love, d’you have anything to attend to, or can y’stay for the last bit of this?” Harry asked.

“Oh, I don’t have to stay,” she shook her head quickly. Trying to keep Harry, Niall, (and now) this woman happy was her first priority...even if she hated the woman at the other end of the table. The last thing she wanted was for someone to notice Harry treated her differently. “I was going to tell Mr. Horan abou—”

“Niall, is she busy or can she spare a few minutes to stay and chat?” Harry asked, interrupting her.

“Mr. Styles, this meeting is confidential!” She would really like to know what she did to piss this woman off.

“Does anyone have a better idea?” Harry asked. It was silent.

“You should stay, darling,” Niall smiled gently as he murmured the words to her. He stood quickly and gestured for her to sit. He leaned against the windowsill, perched the folder on his lap and flipped through the first couple pages scanning for information.

No one answered Harry’s question. Specifically, the woman at the other end who was glaring at the now empty seat beside Harry. “Then, please sit,” Harry said quietly. But it was really an order. So, she sat uncomfortably. She never left her office without a pen behind her ear, which she was more grateful for than ever. Taking the writing utensil from her ear, she pulled it into her lap and fiddled with the cap opening and closing it quietly so she wouldn’t let it click but still allowed her to fidget awkwardly.

“Please continue,” Niall said from his spot by the window. Harry started pacing the length of the wall across from the window. Near the door to the hall.

She cleared her throat. She wanted to sound confident. Part of her wished she wrote it down. “Well, Mr. Horan had mentioned the dilemma...so I researched some similar cases,” she explained.

She spoke for a couple minutes. People were listening to her intently. She even surprised herself, but she thought of the research she had been doing when Niall mentioned the stressfulness of the most recent contracts and why this one of all things was going to be dire if they didn’t come up with a solution. All she wanted was to help; specifically, she wanted to help Niall the most (ergo Harry as well). Plus, she liked research. A few people had minor questions, curious as to what cases she looked up or how she even knew in the first place of where to look. “Well... one of my professors was big on conflict of interest, so I emailed him to ask.”

Niall and Harry made eye contact from their respective corners of the room. She was too nervous to look at either of them to notice the look that passed between them.

After speaking for so long, she finished her little monologue with a summary. “If my understanding and research is correct, this is definitely more of a legal process and problem we would—excuse me, you would have to go through. What I found, however, if you have the two clients for a partnership on this project, then you no longer have a conflict of interest. You do have to fill out a disclosure form and—”

“And lose a ton of money,” the woman at the other end grumbled. “Why are we even considering this?”

Harry didn’t speak. He was still pacing. He had had his hands clasped in front of his face; his index fingers pressed against his lips. Her heart was racing. Niall put the folder in front of her. On the very top paper Niall had written on a sticky note: you’re doing great :)

She took a deep breath. “Yes, there would be a pretty significant loss...but as far as I can tell by my research, the only other option is to lose one or both of the clients. Which I think would be arguably detrimental,” she concluded and pressed her lips together. She bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep her from saying anything else.

Harry spun on his heel at the sound of her accurate conclusion. For one miniscule moment he held her gaze. It was so brief if she wasn’t so in love with him, so attuned to catching where his eyes were looking, she might not have noticed. “Do you all recognize how this was an actual helpful contribution to our situation?” He asked rhetorically once more.

“Losing money is helpful?” Who spit in her coffee that she had such an attitude? And why was it directed at her idea? Did she not know that a business like this was a group effort? Her heart was hammering against her chest so fast; the idea that someone thought she was stupid made her feel so embarrassed.

“Losing the least amount of money is helpful,” Niall remarked casually looking up from his folder.

“Thank you,” Harry said, and it was a surprised sounding thank you. One that she hadn’t ever really gotten from him. Most of his thank yous oozed with kindness. This one was flat. Like he was trying to not show how truly thankful he was for her.

“Get up,” Niall whispered quickly as he leaned toward her to grab a document out of the folder. He didn’t mean it maliciously and she could tell that. In fact, she was quite grateful he told her what to do because she wanted to run out of there. She would have thrown herself out the window to escape if that meant she could get away from the awkwardness of Harry’s anger and that woman’s anger. She stood and Niall put the piece of paper in front of his mouth and directed his speech against it so it would go toward her ear. “Go get the disclosure form, check your phone. Great job,” his voice was so low, but she didn’t miss how the seriousness emphasized how proud he really was.

She exited around the opposite side of the table as Harry made his way back to his original seat. She left the room and breathed a sigh of relief getting out of there. She could already hear Harry chattering away on the other side. Almost immediately her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Niall.

HOLY SHIT.

Oh my God...

Oh. My. GOD.

Good or bad?

I’m freaking out!

GOOD. I’M SO PROUD. Bring the form back in, you don’t have to stay, knock and give it to Harry.

Do you want me to fill it out?

Darling, if you fill it out, Harry might not be the only one who falls in love with you.

She was practically bouncing in her apartment when she got home. She felt so light, so excited to contribute something of worth to Harry’s company. She cleaned and danced around the whole place feeling like she could truly do anything. Once cleaned, she pulled the laundry from the dryer, and she was bouncing to the music in her headphones while she waited for her leftovers to reheat in the microwave. She was going to fold laundry and snuggle up with a good book after eating and having one of the best days of her professional life thus far.

She emailed her professor back and thanked him for the help, told him how grateful she was, and the advice was so helpful that she really thought she might get a job at the end of the year.

I had a GREAT day! She texted Louis and Eleanor.

Oh yeah? Did Harry finally fuck you?

Louis, can you just...? Eleanor sent an eye roll emoji to their chat. She giggled. Not even Louis being cheeky could embarrass her right now. What happened, love?

So, she sent a few voice messages and told them all about the woman that seemed to hate her for no reason. All about how Niall was impressed. Her professor was impressed. Maybe most importantly, Harry was impressed.

Of course, she hates you. Harry values you and your opinion. She’s JEALOUS. She didn’t want to believe Louis. The idea that anyone would be jealous of her was laughable. But it created a pang in her chest because there was just no way that anyone would ever think Harry would willingly be with her in that way. That he would see her in the light that could possibly make people jealous.

Don’t forget we’re proud of you too, love :) Eleanor replied.

Her phone rang at that moment with Louis at the other end. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi, are you alright?” She asked curiously hearing the gentle tone. It was very unlike Louis to sound so quiet. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she listened alertly for signs of trouble.

He chuckled. “Yes, babe. Promise.”

She pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she folded her laundry. “Then—”

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered. She stopped folding. Her heart fluttered and she rolled her lips into her mouth. Louis wasn’t one for long loving speeches. She only ever heard his big speeches all of three times. Once when her brother died and he spoke at the funeral, the next when he found out how she had been living for the two years since his passing with her parents, and finally when he told Eleanor how much he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and she snapped pictures of him sliding a ring into place.

This, apparently, was going to be the fourth time. “I didn’t video you, because I know you’re probably fighting back tears already, so I just want to say this and then I’m going to hang up immediately because if I even hear a sniffle I’m going to run over there, and you know how I hate running.”

She smiled because if she laughed or breathed, she would have started to cry.

“Your brother would be unbelievably proud of you. Actually, I know he’s proud of you. Prouder than anyone—prouder than Eleanor, me, Harry, Niall, your professor...everyone. You are incredible. Your parents have no idea who they’re missing, and your brother is...wow,” he said simply in awe. She let the tears silently flow and she nodded, trying not to breathe into the phone because she didn’t want to bother Louis by making him run. Her heart ached so badly. Nothing was fair about this moment. Her brother should have been there. But she loved Louis so much for being there for her, for cheering for her when no one else did. “Okay, I’m gonna go now so you can cry in peace. I love you, babe, always and always.”

“Me too!” She heard Eleanor from the back.

“Talk soon,” he said sweetly, and the call ended.

She released a noisy sob and brushed the tears away. Unfortunately, she didn’t cry in peace for longer than thirty seconds. Niall was calling her before she could catch her breath. “Hello—?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you darling, I know you probably just got settled at home, but I was just wondering if you could send Harry and I the artic—are you crying?” He asked. She accidentally let her sniffles get the best of her as she tried to calm herself while he spoke. She even turned the speaker away from her mouth to hide it as best she could so that he wouldn’t hear. It clearly didn’t work. “Darling, are you—?”

“What’s wrong?” Harry was at the other end. “Love, are you okay?” The worry in Harry’s voice melted her already breaking heart. She sniffled again trying to regain her breathing so she could respond but all the words were choked off. “Kitten, please,” he begged anxiety so evident in his voice she could almost taste it.

“I-I’m fine,” she whispered sniveling like a child. “I’m—"

“No, you’re not,” he sounded like he was shaking his head and trying to convince her that she wasn’t okay. “Love, do y’need help? Are y’hurt?” She imagined him pacing Niall’s office. Squeezing his phone and in the right circumstance she believed Harry was strong enough to bend the metal frame.

“No!” she said hurriedly before Harry had paramedics breaking down her door. Or more than likely, before he broke down her door himself. “I’m okay,” but she was hiccupping on her uneasy breaths so much she couldn’t get all the words out fast enough, in one breath, to assuage his worry.

“Kitten, I don’t—”

“It’s just...my brother,” she croaked and let the tears of sadness but overwhelming kindness from her best friend flow some more. The last thing she wanted to do was worry Harry. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to force the tears to stop and she pressed her hand over her mouth so hard as she (very unattractively, in hindsight) snorted around a sob.

“Oh,” Harry almost sounded relieved. She nearly heard the sigh of relief deflating his tense shoulders. He figured she wasn’t hurt and that made all the difference to him. “Oh, m’so sorry, love,” he whispered. “M’glad you’re alright. Can y’jus’ call us back when y’feel up to it in a bit? Take your time, really s’not imp—”

“No, no,” she took a deep shaky breath. “No, I’m alright,” she sounded a little more confident.

“Love...” he cooed again almost disapprovingly. “S’okay. It doesn’t—”

“No, it’s alright,” she sniffled. “What do you need?” She asked.

Harry sighed. “The articles or the cases y’found. Our lawyers wanted—”

“Sure, sure. One second, I should—” she hiccupped on her own breath again but continued as if she didn’t interrupt herself, “—have sent them after the meeting.”

“It’s alright, y’didn’t know,” he answered softly. She hurried to her bag by the door with her laptop inside. Grabbing it she made her way to the kitchen counter and flipped it open. She liked listening to the way he sounded on the phone. His breath was comforting. It occurred to her she had never spoken to him on the phone since that first day at Styles Incorporated.

They were both silent while she booted up her laptop, save for the occasional sniffle. “One second.”

“Take your time,” he repeated. She released a shivering breath and Harry sighed like he was in pain. He didn’t think she lied to him on any kind of regular basis, but he thought she might if she was worried, she would upset him. So, while he hated the idea of her mourning someone so close to her—especially when the consequences were obviously much worse than he would ever know based on her brief retelling of the situation—and he couldn’t necessarily make it better, he was grateful she wasn’t hurt by someone else.

“Okay,” she gasped again trying to regulate her breathing. “Sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I’m forwarding you the email—” shaky breath, “—I sent my professor and his responses so you can see the progression of our talk,” punctuated sniffle, “so you know why I have these certain cases.”

“Thank you, kitten,” he murmured quietly. His heart broke a bit more hearing each hitch in her voice as she spoke. “Have a great night.”

“You too,” she responded quietly.

“Oh, love?” He said quickly right before she hung up.

“Yes?” She sniffled.

“Thank you for the meeting today. Y’did a great job. I’m...” he chuckled. “I’m so proud of you,” he told her. “I couldn’t say it in the meeting, of course... But m’really, really proud of you. I don’t think s’an exaggeration t’say y’saved a huge piece of the company. It was very impressive.”

Her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. “Thank you.”

“Sleep well, love,” once he hung up, she finally released all the cathartic cries and tears she bottled up since Louis spoke to her.

As good as her day was after the meeting—where she felt she actually, confidently did well—the following day was equally (if not worse to the same degree) terrible.

It started off okay. She was still riding her good day high from yesterday all morning. Niall was out of the office on many meetings and calls thanks to her. All of which he was grateful they were even happening, and he periodically sent her messages saying he was really looking forward to his afternoon coffee because he had been so busy, and it was all thanks to her. Since Harry stole the phone from him the night before he still hadn’t gotten a chance to congratulate her in person on one of the most amazing meetings he had ever been to.

She always looked forward to coffee. Mostly because she would catch a glimpse of Harry when she delivered his tea to him and after having such a good day yesterday, and impressing him at that, she was really looking forward to seeing him for a minute. Especially before their movie night tonight.

However, returning with their afternoon coffee was exactly when her day turned sour. Her coffee didn’t taste very good. It was minor, but it dampened the thrill of getting Starbucks.

Additionally, her bank sent her a message asking if she had purchased $200 worth of merchandise overseas. “Oh, fuck,” she hissed as she set the tray of drinks on her desk while she replied to the message. So now she had no debit card for a week and she wasn't big on using her credit card if she could help it. So much so that she left it at home unless she was traveling.

But those were still minor inconveniences in comparison to the remainder of her afternoon. She delivered her tea to Harry’s office as she always did at the same time and frowned as he wasn’t there. Not wanting to look like a psycho stalker, she exited his office quickly, leaving the tea on his desk and made her way back to her office.

She never really brought it up around Harry and Niall, but as part of her university’s end of the deal at this internship, she had to write reflections periodically about her time at Styles Incorporated. Therefore, when she didn’t have anything pressing on her plate from Niall, she would write a few sentences here and there on her personal laptop.

But her laptop didn’t turn on.

“Okay...” she sighed rubbing her hand on her forehead as she planned her next steps to buy a new laptop...without debit card access to her account.

“He won’t sleep with you.”

Her head snapped up to the sound of the woman that clearly disliked her from yesterday. She still didn’t know her name. “Pardon?” She shook her head in surprise.

“Harry,” she stated rolling her eyes. She stood in her doorway of the small little office inspecting it with distaste. It was small but perfect in her eyes. To this woman however, it was a garbage can. Her nose practically upturned as if it had the same stench as trash. “He won’t sleep with you,” she repeated.

She blinked as if she had misheard her. “Wh-what?”

“The whole innocent-look on you is overdone and tiring,” she said. “Harry doesn’t sleep with people that work for him. Especially the interns.”

Her lips parted in shock. “I don’t—”

“Everyone wants to sleep with him,” she rolled her eyes. It sounded like she tried and failed. “Don’t think just because you’re all buddy buddy with his best friend and second in command that you’re special. There have been plenty of interns before you and there will be plenty after. You’re not special. Harry doesn’t fuck plain girls.”

Her heart shattered and she felt her face warm in complete embarrassment, but she couldn’t move or speak.

While she trusted Harry way more than she trusted this woman who obviously had it out for her, it was her worst fears said out loud. She knew she was plain. She knew that people like Harry didn’t go for girls like her—especially when he had done this before, and she was already so insecure about how she looked and how their companionship worked. “Just because you had one good idea doesn’t make you special or smarter than the rest of us,” she repeated.

She wasn’t special. She heard it loud and clear over and over.

“I’m sorry,” she said because what else was she supposed to say?

“Pathetic,” she snorted, rolled her eyes, and like a movie, she bumped into her desk and spilled her coffee clean across her already broken laptop, all over her desk, and spilled some onto her skirt. Perhaps the only highlight of the day was that her skirt was plain black, and the coffee tasted bad. So, it wouldn’t stain obviously for everyone else to see with the remainder of the workday...and it wasn’t a waste of coffee. She gasped at the coldness, but she supposed it was better than hot coffee. Make that the third highlight. The coffee spilled from her desk to the floor, and she glanced back up and the woman was gone.

She got up in hurry to head to the breakroom, get paper towels and try to calm herself. But of course, she slipped a bit on the spilled coffee whacking her arm so hard on her desk she was sure it would bruise. That was the last straw.

She sat in a heap on the floor for a moment trying to process the last hour of work and how good yesterday was compared to how horrible right now was. “Hey darling, how’s my schedule look this afternoon?” Niall called breezing by her little space, and she didn’t even realize she was crying and still sitting next to a dripping puddle of coffee when Niall turned back from his desk and coffee to see her sitting there. “Darling, you okay?” He asked nervously. She stood and sniffled shaking her head. Smoothed her soaked skirt and pretended like she was fine not looking toward Niall.

“Yeah,” she sniffed awkwardly. “Spilled my coffee.” She was no snitch.

“Oh, jeez. Sorry, darling. I’ll go get you some paper towels—”

“No, s’fine. My mess,” she mumbled, and she tried to use the mouse for the desktop but since coffee covered the length of her desk it wouldn’t move fast enough for her to click through. “Uh...” she shook her head. “I’m sorry...” she croaked. “My computer—”

“Hey,” Niall said gently, and his voice was closer. He was right behind her. “S’alright, don’t... Hey,” he said grabbing her wrist as she tried to figure it out, tried to find a solution like she always did. “Darling,” he cooed.

It broke her. It was too much, so much of the day went wrong so quickly it threw her. Niall’s quiet voice was kindly soothing, and it was all she could take in that moment. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

“Oh, hey,” he sighed and turned her around and wrapped his arms around her comfortingly. She accepted it because she felt like if she didn’t her body would give out. She pressed her hands over her eyes as he held her and gently rocked. He didn’t pay any mind to the coffee that was probably getting on him yet again because of her. Her arm ached and she just wanted to go home so bad. “Shh, it’s okay,” he promised, and she shook her head. “Hey, what happened, love?” He asked gripping her shoulders and pushing her back a bit so he could try and look into her eyes. She shook her head.

“S’nothing.”

“Darling, it doesn’t look like nothing—”

She sniffled more and kept the part of her face covered. “It’s so stupid,” she hiccupped feeling like an idiot for crying in front of her boss.

“I’m sure it’s not,” he said encouragingly and pulled her back to his chest so he could let her cry. And she did for a good minute feeling the slightest bit relief.

But then naturally her day got even worse.

“Niall, I thought you—” instinctively, she ripped away from Niall her face warming as Harry saw how cozy Niall got holding her. Comforting her. She dared a glance at Harry.

For the first time in six months, he looked mad at her. “Sorry,” she whispered to Niall...or Harry. She was sorry regardless. There was nothing to apologize for, but she remembered when Harry saw Niall squeeze her arm. This was a thousand times worse.

“Yeah, sorry,” Niall shrugged. “We—”

“What’s wrong?” Harry wondered but his voice was tight. The air was so tense it felt like she couldn’t breathe. He wanted to be worried. She could feel it. Him asking was a chance to clear up the comforting. She should have just said it. But there was jealousy and sadness blocking his concern for her. It made her so anxious she felt tongue tied.

“She—”

“Let her talk,” Harry snapped. Niall may have been his best friend but that meant he knew when to speak and when to stay silent.

“It’s nothing,” she whispered.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he ground out.

“Harry, stop,” Niall said immediately coming to her defense.

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” she didn’t look up, so she didn’t know Harry was staring at her. Waiting for her response. It never came. Her lower lip wobbled, and she glanced at Harry momentarily. Long enough to see how angry he was.

But she didn’t miss the hurt hiding in his beautiful, sad green eyes. “I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

“Your turn,” he spat at Niall. Harry wasn’t thinking rationally because all he saw was the sweet girl sobbing into the arms of his best friend. He was upset about the company stuff, even with her brilliant idea it was still nerve wracking to have so much of what he spent most of his 20s on, in such a fragile state. Topped with the girl that clouded all his dreams upset and crying to Niall...all his irrational brain could think was that they fell in love working in such close proximity to one another. Plus, Niall was often more even-tempered and nicer than Harry was on a regular basis.

He scoffed at Harry. “Harry, no way,” Niall shook his head. “You know—”

“Apparently, I don’t know fucking anything,” he snarled. She visibly flinched at his tone. She shook her head, but Niall beat her to the punch. Besides, she couldn’t defend herself even if she tried to talk because it would be lost on broken sobs.

“Jesus Christ, Harry, don’t be a dick,” Niall rolled his eyes. Obviously if it was anyone but Niall he would have been fired on the spot. But as his best friend he supposed he had perks. “She was crying when I got here. She won’t even tell me what’s—”

He didn’t even let Niall finish. “My office,” he snapped and stormed out of the room.

She had a whole new set of tears flowing and she covered her face again. “Darling, don’t,” Niall rolled his eyes and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “He’s...he’s just the jealous type,” he whispered. “He’ll cool off. “Don’t stress,” he promised and headed out the door.

Once he left, she let herself have a small pity party while the coffee continued to pool on her desk and floor. Eventually, eyes cast toward the floor, she grabbed paper towels and started cleaning. On her hands and knees, she sniffled and wiped up the mess under her desk and she heard her phone vibrate from on top of her desk. It was Harry. Her heart rate increased rapidly, and her hands shook as she opened the message.

Don’t come over tonight.

Her heart broke.

Niall was unapologetically kind to her as the bad Thursday turned into a bad Friday. If wearing a skirt that didn’t stain was the highlight of her day yesterday, today it was Niall kindly asking nothing of her and reassuring her every time she forgot some simple tasks was today’s highlight. She blamed Harry entirely for her restless sleep. Makeup could only do so much to hide the dark circles and bags that accumulated beneath her tear-reddened lash line.

Niall closed her office door to block out the hall and everyone from the rest of the floor. “You okay, darling?”

“He hates me,” she whispered.

“He is an idiot,” he said seriously. “You shouldn’t even forgive him.” She appreciated Niall’s effort, but it was lost on her with how sad she was. It felt like they were breaking up and they weren’t even together. “Can you tell me what happened? I can help,” he promised.

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

She should have just told him about the stupid, mean woman from the meeting. Niall would have probably marched right to Harry’s office requesting authority to fire her. Which was exactly what she didn’t want. He sighed sadly. “Alright, well...m’gonna just give you some space. Don’t worry about anything. Just take it easy...or go home early.”

She nodded. “Maybe after coffee,” she mumbled.

“Sure, darling. Whatever you want. You’ve earned it. Whatever it is.”

Niall grabbed his laptop, his bag, everything like he wouldn’t be back either. “Niall,” she whispered.

“Yes, darling?” He still gave her space not looking even though he wanted to assure her that everything was fine.

“He’s gonna fire me,” she sniffled.

Niall shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’d quit.”

She snorted a breath of laughter. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Go home and sleep, love. That’s official intern work,” he said.

She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for his idiocy,” he shook his head. “Don’t give him all this credit. You have made his life so much better and if he wants to be mad then he should know of all people it shouldn’t be directed at you.”

She felt her lips tremble with a bout of fresh tears ready to spill. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, darling. I hope you tell me soon so I can help.”

She nodded but said nothing.

She texted Niall that she left his coffee and Harry’s tea on his desk. Then she messaged Louis and Eleanor.

Are you guys around? I’m heading home early.

It’s anniversary weekend, babe!

Shit.

Oh fuck, I am so sorry. Of course. I’m just feeling a little cloudy. Heading home. Have a great time. I love you both so much :)

She was impressed with her hiding skills. Thankfully, texting was a lot easier to hide her emotions. She walked home from the office. It was over two miles, but it would be cleansing, and she could always call for an uber if she got tired.

Maybe go to Harry’s if you’re feeling poorly, Louis suggested. She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing she could.

Yeah, good idea!

She assumed Louis would see right through that given she hadn’t once thought to purposefully bother Harry once in six months. So, she assumed the call that vibrated in her hand was Louis.

“Listen, I’m really—”

“Who the fuck answers a phone like that?”

No, no, no. NO. Her stomach dropped to her feet, and she froze mid step. The person walking behind her bumped into her, but she stood stalk still as the voice at the other end of the line processed through her ear drum. Her jaw dropped open, it felt like it would unhinge from the shock.

This could not be the same terrible day. What came after terrible? That was the word she needed right now to describe the last twenty four hours.

“Mom,” she breathed.

“Your father is dying,” she stated. “Not sure if you care. But thought you’d want to know in case you wanted to cash in on your inheritance,” she snipped. Her words were clipped, clear. Not slurred or confused at all. She wondered if it was hurting her to not have alcohol in her system. She heard the distinct sound of hospital beeps in the background.

It felt like someone was ripping her heart directly from her chest. “I’m sorry, what?” She whispered.

“For the love of God,” she hissed. “Your father is dying. Say goodbye if you want.”

The call ended.

Her hands were shaking. She somehow managed to put the phone in her bag. She was suddenly extremely aware of how cold it was. Or maybe it was the feeling in her chest.

She turned on her heel and headed back for the building. Work was the only thing that was going to occupy her mind but really, she just wanted to see someone who cared for her at that moment. For the first time in six months, she came to the sobering conclusion that she was really alone. There was no one to help her because there was no one that cared for her in that way anymore. Anyone currently in her life would find her bothersome and she couldn’t do that to them.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t see anyone. Niall was giving her space—and in turn appeasing Harry. Regardless of how much he liked her, he was still her boss. She couldn’t expect his comfort. Her brother was dead, and her dad was soon to be. Even if he wasn’t, her dad and mom hated her since her brother died. Louis and Eleanor were her best friends, but they had lives to live; she couldn’t bother them on their anniversary while they were out of town.

And Harry…

Well, Harry hated her guts.

Taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca @stylesfever @soachibstel1 @tiredinwinter @ameerakane20 @kimmi-kat @avasversion @youcouldstartacult @likeapplejuicenpeach @manrocket-mo @novalunosisting @golden-hoax @harryssky1

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#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #tradtional

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starker-raving-mads · 3 months

Text

For You: Part II

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It had been two weeks since Tony Stark's disaster of a funeral.

Peter thought he'd gotten maybe 12 hours of sleep in that time, mind still haunted with the last images of Mr. Stark he'd ever have - but also now haunted with Ms. Potts's words.

He did it for you.

The rest of the sleep he'd gotten was mostly from passing out from sheer exhaustion. The city was in ruins and more than ever, Queens needed their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. It was humbling the first time a grandmother started sobbing after seeing him, clutching him to her chest. Kids of all ages came up to him in ferocious hugs and clinging to his arms and legs. Many of them had heard tell of Spider-Man but were too young to have known him, and many more had missed his suited face around the streets, protecting them and keeping peace.

Peter's heart ached knowing that they'd been without him for so long, and through something so awful. The Blip was an instant for him, done and undone with only the vaguest sense of time loss in between. But for them? Half a decade of time, gone, lost in the deep expanse of tragedy. The teenager could hardly begin to understand it.

When he'd told May - who wasn't Blipped, who'd lost him for five long and miserable years, who had gray hair at her roots and frown lines where the laugh lines had been - that he couldn't leave Queens, couldn't leave his people, even for something like college, she grabbed him fiercely around his shoulders and they both cried.

"You're so incredibly strong, baby," she whispered into his hair, voice husky from holding onto her tears. "I'm so fucking proud of you."

So yeah. Queens needed him.

But that wasn't what was on his mind, not now, not with 12 hours of sleep and too much coffee in his system and a overwhelming, polished stone building looming over him. He tapped his fingers restlessly against the worn thigh of his jeans. Taylor & Taylor, the sign said. Attorneys at Law.

He was here for Mr. Starks will reading. Apparently, per the couriered letter to his and May's apartment last week, he was part of the will and was required to be in attendance. Baffled, all he'd even remotely begun to believe Mr. Stark would leave him with was the Spider-Man suit, or maybe a patent for it, to keep his identity safe? He really wasn't sure.

The caffeine in his system was causing his anxiety to ratchet up as he entered the building, greeted the receptionist, and was ushered to a conference room with a long, shiny table. At the other end of the table sat Pepper and Peter flatlined his lips together and gave her a nod, ignoring her well-hidden wince.

She hadn't said anything to him after the barrage at the funeral, Happy having pulled her off of him and led her away, still sobbing. He imagined, for all that she was probably still mad at him, that someone as put together as Pepper Potts felt uneasy with her emotional break, understandable as it was.

He sat down in the furthest seat from her anyway.

2 silent, tense minutes later, Happy entered the room. He gave Peter a quiet clap on the shoulder before going to Pepper's end of the table and sat down next to her, holding a whispered conversation. He could've easily heard them but was trying to mentally tune them out for their own privacy. Not long after more people entered the room - Rhodey, Sam Wilson, Steve Rodgers, and Bucky Barnes all ushered in a line, looking like they'd come together.

It was an odd mix of people, Peter supposed, but then again Mr. Stark always valued the unseen in those he cared about. The hardest one to figure was probably Bucky, whom Tony had given Peter the breakdown on. The man had gone, in his words, feral after learning Bucky was the one to take out Howard and Maria Stark and Peter could hear the stale anger and sadness in those few moments Mr. Stark talked to him about it, explained why he'd come back from Germany beaten, how the rift in the Avengers came to be.

Looking across the table, though, Peter couldn't see the ruthless killer he'd once been. His metal arm had been removed, the shirt sleeve carefully tucked around his shoulder, and he was quiet and contemplative, glancing around the table much like Peter was. In fact, it was less glancing at the other occupants and much more at Peter himself.

Actually, most of the table had looked at Peter more than once and it took him a good, long moment to realize it was because they didn't know who the hell he was. Pepper and Happy were the only two not looking his way, still whispering quietly between themselves. It struck him that despite his mask having been torn away in battle, no one had seen him, no one here but Pepper and Happy knew he was Spider-Man.

No wonder they're staring at me, he thought. Why would a teenage boy be at Tony Stark's will reading -

What little blood his body could spare rushed to his cheeks and the back of his neck and he stared resolutely down at the table. Despite many, many fantasies, he and Mr. Stark didn't have that kind of relationship. But oh how Peter had wished they had - how his heart and soul belonged to Tony Stark even if it was never given in return.

His long unrequited yearnings were interrupted by the lawyers finally coming in. It was two of them and what looked to be a junior associate, hands loaded with files. "We apologize for the delay," the more sleek looking 50-something woman said. "We had been confirming the last of the details."

"It's all right," Pepper said, brusque and business-like despite the emotion the teen could read in every line of her face. "Let's get started."

The lawyers sat themselves at the long table, at the head near Peter and across from Pepper. "This is the final reading of the last Will and Testament of Anthony Edward Stark," the male lawyer said, reading from his portfolio. He glanced up. "Much of this actually comes in the form of videos that Mr. Stark created himself," he said, and Peter could tell he wasn't the only one who'd barely withheld a pained gasp. "We have some to read and at the end, we'll set the video to play and he asked that only those called for his Will be allowed to remain to view it."

That figured, Peter thought. If there were a handful of powerful people in this room, superheroes and not, it made sense Mr. Stark wanted everything as on the downlow as possible.

"Firstly, to Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes," he said as a junior associate quietly and quickly handed Rhodey a file folder. "He leaves all patents and holdings and architecture belonging to the tool 'War Machine' to you. Specifically with the addendum - try not to give this one away to the government, Platypus." The lawyer looked uncomfortable but Rhodey chuckled, smile full of love and pain both.

"Next, to Captain Sam Wilson," the junior slid a similar folder in front of Sam. "He leaves all patents and holdings and architecture belonging to the drone 'Redwing' to you." The man cleared his throat. "Per Mr. Stark's instructions - 5 years is a long time to fiddle with something without ever knowing if the owner is coming back. If what we're about to do works, enjoy the little sucker."

Sam's lip quiver slightly before he tightened his jaw, nodding once. Peter wasn't the only one seemingly effected by the genius's generosity, not by a long shot.

"To Captain Steve Rodgers, he leaves all intellectual property rights to the design of his vibranium shield." The lawyer cleared his throat. "And the entirety of his liquor collection. Per instructions, 'So you have something to test that alcohol tolerance with, boy scout." Steve let out a low chuckle, nodding in thanks to the associate who handed him his folder.

"Finally," the female lawyer said, standing up as her colleagues exited the room. "We have the rest of his Will on video. We have not, and will not view this video, but have specifics mentioned within documented. These are vague," she clarified when Pepper looked like she was about to ask, "and only enough to allow the contents within the video to be legally sanctified." She gestured to a remote at Pepper's end of the table. "Simply press play and the recording will begin."

The room was quiet for a moment after the last lawyer left and Pepper cleared her throat before gesturing to Happy to hit play. An instant later, on the large screen at the end of the room, Tony Stark appeared.

His face was lined with the extra years Peter didn't get to have with him, hair graying and so fucking handsome it hurt. The frown lines around his mouth were more distinct than ever and there was a sort of settled sadness to his eyes that Peter had never seen before. He didn't move with the restless fidgeting that Peter himself often exhibited, the sign of a mind that wouldn't cease moving. If the teen had to guess, it was because of too much having happened. He knew that after the Blip, Tony had spent months withering away on a space ship and then years secluding himself at the cabin where his funeral was held. He retreated into himself more and more, letting the rest of the world figure itself out without his interference. If the pain in his face was anything to go by, Peter understood and his heart broke for that version of Tony he'd never gotten to know.

"Testing, testing," the Tony on the screen joked, letting a put upon smirk flit across his face. "Just joking, we all know my technology wouldn't fail me like that." The wink was devastating to Peter's psychology and it was already clear that this whole video would be his downfall.

"But seriously," the older man continued, more collected now. "If you're seeing this video, we either failed and died trying or I died after having succeeded." He shrugged. "The chances of everyone coming out alive were," he wiggled one hand in a so-so fashion, "basically zero. At least if it's only me, then hopefully no one else got hurt." He winced. "Sorry, Pep, but if it's me or half the universe - I'm so sorry, honey," he was so sincere it hurt Peter's teeth. He could hear the hitch in Ms. Potts's breathing from here. "If it's me or half the universe, you know which one I'm gonna pick." He looked genuinely regretful, as if he didn't realize that he was worth more than just one man. As if he didn't realize he was the center of more than one person's whole world.

Much as Pepper might hate him, she and Peter had that much in common.

"Soo," Tony continued, dragging out the note. "Now is the time to give you guys my last Will I guess. Honeybear, Sam, and Capcicle, you should've all gotten your patents and whatnots," he gestured to nothing again. "The lawyers insisted on that bit. But the real important stuff is in this video, right now." He cleared his throat.

"First, Bucky," the super soldier's head snapped to attention, looking like he didn't know why he was being called on even though being in this room was enough to know something was coming his way, words or otherwise. "Man, I went ballistic on you when we first met," Tony frowned. "It took me a long time, and a smart guy to tell me that sometimes people aren't the culmination of their actions, especially when they weren't in control of themselves."

Those were the words Peter had said to Mr. Stark during one of their lab binges - but about Mr. Stark himself, when he was too in his head about his past as a weapon salesman. He nearly started crying thinking that the man had heard him so profoundly that he'd applied to knowledge to others. Fuck, this hurt.

"So," Tony cleared his throat. "You don't need my forgiveness because you did nothing wrong. But I'm giving it to you anyway because if you're anything like me - and I have a suspicion you might just be - then you need to hear it. I forgive you, Bucky. And, not only that - in case that wasn't enough," he said, voice taking on its cocky tone that, again, Peter could tell was put upon, "I have a secondary prize for you. I figure you probably don't like that arm the Russians gave you, so I made you a new one. Arc reactor powered, and it shouldn't be as painful. Plus, I integrated some of the nanites from my suit to help with the whole sensation thing. I, uh," he cleared his throat, ducking his head before looking back up. "I kind of just thought about what Dad would want for his oldest friends and figured I could at least do that, especially since you really have had just the most shit time the last 70 years. So. I hope you take it, and I hope it works, and just like live the rest of your life the way you want, okay?"

The gaze that Bucky had on the screen was like someone frozen, unable to express anything or feel anything. Like a statue too overwhelmed by movement to do anything but sit there. Next to him, Steve wrapped an arm around him, hand sliding up to grip the back of Bucky's neck. It seemed to wake the man up and he took a deep breath, nodding to whatever the super soldier had whispered into his ear.

"Next," Tony continued. "Happy. I'd make you chief security officer but we both know you'd pull your hair out." Both men chuckled. "Instead, I bequeath my classic car collection. You already have funds sitting in your bank account so don't worry about not being able to take care of them, buddy."

"Thanks, boss," Happy said and it was sweet and sorrowful.

"Pep," the genius took a second to smile sadly into the camera. "I'm so sorry, Pepper, that I couldn't give you what you deserved. But we all know that you are, and have always been, bigger and better than me." Silent tears gathered in the corners of the CEO's eyes and she dabbed at them, elegant and perfect and everything Peter knew he wasn't. "I leave you the lake house and that brownstone you love in Manhattan, all the money in the prenup account, and 20% of my shares at SI. You've always been an amazing CEO and mother, and I know you'll be even better without my shenanigans haunting you every waking moment."

At that, everyone at the table chuckled. Grief, dark humor, and Tony Stark went together like nothing else. Peter's mind, though, was turning over. Mr. Stark only left those things to Ms. Potts? Wouldn't it have made more sense to leave her for last and say 'everything else is yours, babe.'

"Finally," Tony sighed and it was the most straightforward he looked all video. "Pete." Peter's heart clenched and he felt more than saw everyone start eyeing him. He was too focused on the screen to look anywhere but Mr. Stark's face. "You put so much trust in me, kid, and I gotta say it wasn't warranted. I have fucked up almost every single part of my life and until Thanos, you were the only thing I never ruined." The teen swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears gathering in his own eyes and wanting to scream you didn't ruin anything. "If you're seeing this, then that foolhardy plan of mine worked. And you gotta know, kid," the sincerity in the older man's eyes was sharp with pain, now, instead of dull with grief. "You gotta know I did it for you." He cleared his throat. "You're the best of us, and I wasn't going to leave you behind."

The sounds of crying hit Peter's ears and he realized that both he and Ms. Potts were starting to cry in unison. Their pain so similar and shared but so very far apart.

"I couldn't leave things the way they were knowing you had been lost because of that big purple smurf," Tony continued. "The first year you were gone I don't think I left my lab more than 5 times," he laughed softly and it made Peter's heart clench. "I drank more than my liver could probably take, considering everything, and I tried, tried, tried to figure it out, Underoos, I really did. I'm sorry it took this long."

He took a deep breath and the inhabitants of the room did the same. Peter could feel their curious stares boring into his neck but his eyes didn't stray from the screen.

"You have to trust me once more okay, Pete?" Tony asked and Peter would give him anything. He nodded even though the man obviously couldn't see him. "Firstly, to everyone else." The everyone else in question sat straighter up in their chairs. "This," he gestured and somehow it lined up with Peter's chair, "is Peter Parker. To all of you but Happy, Pete was my intern at SI. Believe me when I say this kid has the brightest mind of his generation, but that's not the only reason he's here."

He took another breath. "See the thing is, Peter Parker also happens to be Spider-Man. Yes," he said, sensing that half the room was going to interrupt with questions despite him being a recording - he knew them well. "Yes, the same guy that fought with us in Germany. Yes the same one who's spent the last few years - pre-Blip - defending the streets of Queens."

Voice becoming more intimate, he continued, "Pete is the best of us. He's got your bravery, Rhodey, and he's got your need to stick up for what's right, Steve. The kid is pure good and too smart to not do anything with it. He's gonna be better than you or me combined."

Peter flushed. It wasn't that Mr. Stark hadn't said things in that vein to him before, but to other people? He wanted to protest so, so badly and the fact that he couldn't was strangling him alive.

"And he's gonna need your help. I did what I could, before everything, and I failed over and over again." His mouth was set into a thin line. "He needs people on his side, now more than ever, now after everything, and even more than you might think because," he took a deep breath, "I'm leaving him the company."

"What the fuck," Rhodey whispered.

"What the fuck!" Pepper screeched.

"What the fuck?" Peter gasped.

Their weird sort of chorus ended after that as the room went up in cacophony. On screen, Tony was quiet because yeah, he knew most of the people in that room well enough to know they needed a minute.

"He can't do that," Pepper kept saying as Happy tried to calm her down.

"Pepper," Tony started talking again and it shocked all of them enough to calm down and shut up. "I know you're mad and I know you think I can't but - you're amazing, okay? You are so fucking good at being CEO it's like you were born for it. But Stark Industries has always, and will always, need someone there to be the mad scientist. First it was dad, and then it was me, and now it's gonna be Pete - if he accepts." He sighed. "I had really hoped to last a few more years to get you prepped for his, kid," he shrugged, chagrined smile on his face again. "But death waits for no one, me especially." That sobered them all up.

"I really hope you take this, Petey," he continued, "but if you don't, I won't be disappointed. It's a lot, I know, and if you say no, then everything goes to Pepper and that's fine. But all the weapons I've made for the Avengers and co over the years, all the Iron Man designs, all the Spider-Man things - I'm sorry, but I'd have to trash it. Friday already has the program depending on your answer, but don't let that stop you. Even if you say no to this, you're still gonna be set for life, okay?" His voice, for the first time the entire video, took on a pleading tone. "Please, please don't do this just because I'm asking. Do it because it feels right for you and if it doesn't that's okay. I set aside money for you and May to live easy for the rest of your life if you need it, college, all of it. Just, please consider it."

As if Peter could do anything else. As if Peter would let the last of Tony die with this one request. Say yes and get everything, say no and Tony dies again.

"Pepper," Tony goes on. "If Peter does accept, then I need you there to support him. I know it's hard, and I know you're probably fucking furious at me," he smiled and for just a moment his eyes twinkled in the most devastating way. "But trust me this last time that this is what's best. You know I was never the business guy, not really. But you also know that I love this company and would never leave it to someone who wouldn't do it justice."

He shifted in his seat on screen. "And for Rhodey, Steve, Bucky, and Sam - the kid's gonna need you guys to help him out with the superhero gig. I wasn't really the best with, you know, ground level stuff and that happens to be his specialty. Get him what he needs, help him where you can, and just be there for him, okay?"

"We will, Tones," Rhodey agreed, swearing on their behalf.

For his part, Peter was overwhelmed. It didn't matter what everyone else was saying right now. He heard it, but it was cotton in his brain, the lightning fast jump of thought to realization to devastation of this whole hour more than he could keep up with.

"And with that," Tony sighed. "I'm sorry, but I've got to hopefully go save the world. Or end it," he shrugged, chuckling, "who knows."

The video cut out and the screen turned off. Silence reigned until -

"You cannot take it," hissed Pepper.

"Pep - " Happy started.

"No!" Pepper yelled, standing and slamming her hands onto the table loud enough to make Peter's sensitive hearing ring. "He already took Tony he's not taking my company!"

"My company," Peter said, quietly, resolutely.

Her bright red hair whipped as she faced him, glaring. "No."

"I'm really sorry, Ms. Potts," he said quietly, firmly. "But Mr. Stark was right. Stark Industries needs someone to lead the innovation side and I'm not saying I'm the best - "

"You aren't," she hissed. Across the table from Peter, Rhodey frowned at her.

" - but I'm the one Mr. Stark chose," the teen finished. He stood, facing her, and it felt weirdly powerful to be the only other person standing in this room of powerful people, facing off against Pepper Potts against something that was by all rights his.

What the fuck was his life.

"It's not the first time Tony's thought with his dick before his brain," she spat, "but for fucks sake to give the leading shares of SI to a fucking teenage twink."

"Pepper that's enough," Rhodey said. Beside her, Happy was trying to get her to calm down, one hand reaching up to her shoulder. She shrugged it off, shaking her head.

"You can hate me all you want," Peter said, shrugging. "But Mr. Stark spent the last 20 years trying to fix the world in the best way he knew how and if a bunch of board members who are too greedy to care about that get a hold of his patents or turn the tide against the CEO and spin SI back to the weapons manufacturers that you used to be," he shook his head. "There is no greater way to disrespect Mr. Stark's legacy than that and I'm not gonna let it happen."

"You think you know about how business works," she laughed cruelly. "You think you know Tony - well you don't, Peter. No matter how many promises he made you or how much he lied to everyone else, Tony Stark was always one thing at his core: selfish."

Peter's face crumpled in perplexed sadness. "You can be as mad at me as you want, ma'am," he said, shaking his head. "But I know you don't believe that."

"I didn't," she said, voice quiet but still full of venom. "I haven't for 20 years. But him killing himself to bring you back to life, only to give the leading shares and intellectual rights to you after the fact?" She rolled her eyes. "God, you must have been some fuck."

"Virginia," Happy hissed, standing up next to her finally.

Her eyes darted over to him, then to the rest of the faces staring at her from around the table, like she'd forgotten they were there. Her face blanched slightly but her expression didn't change. She glared at him, gathering her things, and walked toward the door.

As she left, she shouted over her shoulder, "You'll be hearing from my lawyer."

#peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #starker #tony stark x peter parker #iron man #peter parker #peter x tony #spiderman #tony stark #no beta we die like men #for you fic #angst #i swear it gets better

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universitypenguin · 2 years

Text

The Princess: Part VII

Summary: There’s a surprise in store for Lloyd in Singapore, but it’s not clear exactly who set it up. A suspected serial killer is interrogated.

Word Count: 4,913

Warnings: Mention of domestic violence, murder, legal proceedings, spy/intelligence agencies, stalking, violence, and discussion of images depicting violence. Minor foul language. Only appropriate for 18+ readers. No minors.

Author’s Note: Because I was driving myself crazy with this chapter, I decided to publish it spur of the moment. This was not beta read. The only outside input was from my Mom, who reviewed the interrogation scene.

Masterlist

Part VII

Detective Madan had an efficiency about her that Lloyd appreciated, even if she was a hardass. He’d signed ten official Singaporean police documents in the past five minutes and listened to a fifteen minute lecture on Singapore’s legal definition of “entrapment” and how it was quite different from the U.S. interpretation. He would have appreciated her guidance if he wasn’t already up to speed on the matter. But since no one liked a know-it-all, he had politely listened to the whole spiel. Therapy clearly worked, because eight years ago he’d have thrown a chair through a window to escape that dissertation.

Detective Madan flipped through the completed paperwork.

“Well, this is in order. My associate is bringing up your key cards. They’ll give you access to the building between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m., no exceptions.”

The door opened, and a tall man entered. Lloyd clocked him as late twenties, athletic, of East Asian descent, and dressed in a mid-priced gray suit. The man’s eyes swept the room and scanned Lloyd from head to toe, twice. He crossed the office silently and handed Detective Madan an envelope. His jet black hair was cut regulation style. A glance at his shoes confirmed they were a rubber soled brand. When he folded his hands, the cuff of his shirt raised, revealing a Marathon TSAR diving watch. Lloyd’s eyes fastened on the Swiss diving watch, common in military circles.

“Mr. Hansen, Miss Y/L/N, this is Mr. Tao. He’s with the Intelligence Division. He’ll be accompanying you on your interviews.”

Detective Madan’s tone made it clear having a chaperone was a requirement and not a suggestion. Tao stared at Lloyd. His expression remained neutral, but the skin around his eyes tightened. There was dislike, and recognition.

Lloyd resisted the urge to sigh. Being a former spy had its perks and its downsides. If you were an ex-con, the perks disappeared, and the downsides expanded. After the publicity surrounding his case, those downsides had intensified. For example, gaining approval to enter a foreign country was difficult. He couldn’t be shocked Singapore was setting a dog on him, but it grated on his nerves. He glanced at you, beside him in the other guest chair. You hadn’t reacted to Mr. Tao’s introduction. Your expression was impassive. He wondered what you thought, being confronted with the consequences of his past.

Lloyd shoved down his feelings. It didn’t matter that he’d been put on a leash, or that he resented it. He was here for a purpose and there was work to be done.

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

The interrogation took place in the public safety building across the street from police headquarters. Lloyd had to chuckle when he walked past the third “server room” and realized this was a front for the Intelligence Division. How bad did they think he was? He’d done nothing interesting in nearly a decade.

In the conference room, Tao slipped into the corner. He virtually blended into the gray wall. If the man hadn’t been introduced outright as a spy, Lloyd would have clocked him by this behavior alone. The ability to be a chameleon so effortlessly wasn’t innate. It was learned and required practice to maintain.

Nguyen showed up on time, escorted from the lobby by a receptionist.

“Please, take a seat,” Lloyd said.

The conference table had been moved against the wall and the chairs from the table were arranged into a conversation style set up, with Nguyen’s closest to the door. Your chair and Lloyd’s were placed with the backs to the window, an arm length apart. Unlike your chairs, Nguyen’s had casters.

Lloyd liked it when suspects sat in a rolling chair. The grinding wheels gave away every wiggle of discomfort. Even the ones that weren’t easily noticed could be heard.

“How are you, Dr. Nguyen?” Lloyd asked.

The man looked taken aback by the causal question. He tilted his head and scanned Lloyd’s face.

“I’m well, thank you.”

“Are you practicing medicine these days?”

“No. I freelance, reviewing medical journals, analyzing data for drug trials, and editing scientific papers. I recently performed a statistical analysis on a longitudinal study for researchers at Boston University.”

“That’s a wide variety, from statistics to editing.”

“It suits me better than medicine. I can’t maintain a practice these days. People don’t care to meet me in person. Can’t imagine why.”

There was a bitter edge to his sarcasm, but his expression didn’t flash with anger. Contempt drew up one corner of his mouth into an asymmetrical expression. He wore the emotion openly.

“What drew you to medicine?” Lloyd asked.

Nguyen showed interest at the opportunity to talk about himself.

“I had the highest scores on my placement exams. We take them in Singapore at sixteen, it’s comparable to your SAT tests. I was allowed to enroll at University instead of continuing high school. When I was eighteen, I moved to the U.S. to complete my bachelor’s degree. I graduated N.Y.U. with a bachelor’s in mathematics, then completed medical school in Rochester.”

“Hmmm.”

The nonchalant response to his impressive accomplishments made Nguyen’s eyes flutter. There was a momentary wrinkle in his nose, which he quickly disguised.

“When did you move to Virginia?” Lloyd asked.

“September of 2000.”

Your pen scratched as you wrote that down.

“Doesn’t residency start in July?”

“Yes. I was injured in a car accident in May. It took four months before I had recovered enough to work.”

Shun spoke with a slight accent. He used hard r’s and more articulate vowels than a North American speaker would. It hinted at a British education or maybe a true accent, softened by his years in the States.

“So you began working at Forest View…?”

“September 11, 2000. I remember exactly, because the year after, the terrorist attacks occurred that same day.”

“Tell me about the car accident.”

Nguyen seemed surprised, but answered.

“I was coming back from a long weekend in Atlantic City with friends. The others were asleep, and I was in heavy traffic when a truck rear-ended us. I had two surgeries on my pelvis - well, actually it was three. The recovery took sixteen weeks.”

“Your third operation was the implant removal?” Lloyd guessed.

“Yes. Two years ago. They took out the steel rod that held the fixation in place.”

Nguyen glanced between you and Lloyd. His expression hardened.

“We aren’t here to discuss my education, or my accident. Can we get to the important questions?”

Lloyd leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. He pinned Nguyen with a hard gaze.

“Did you ever hit your girlfriend?”

“No.”

As denials went, it was solid. He answered without hesitation and didn’t flinch from the question. But one had to consider that Nguyen had been extensively questioned about his domestic violence allegations before.

Lloyd nodded. “Alright. Is there any reason someone would report that you hurt Julia?”

Nguyen’s nostrils flared. “How would I know?”

“Is that a yes? Or a no?”

“It’s an ‘I don’t know.’ The people in Harmony hated me. They didn’t care what was true, or not. For all I know, they could’ve claimed I was a werewolf. I ignored them.”

“It’s not the townspeople I’m asking about,” Lloyd said. “Let me refresh your memory.”

He turned to you. “Would you please read Aliyah Kissinger’s statement from 2002?”

“When the police interviewed Ms. Kissinger in April 2002, she reported Julia was the victim of domestic violence. She stated Julia’s right collarbone had been broken and her right wrist fractured as a result of being punched and kicked by Dr. Nguyen.”

Nguyen was as composed as an ice sculpture, but the wrinkle on his chin suggested genuine distress. His eyes lowered to the floor and his shoulders moved with his quick breaths. Lloyd sensed there might be something worth pursuing in this line of questioning.

“Why would Julia’s friend report this incident, if it wasn’t true?”

Nguyen pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was drunk, and we argued. I’m not sure what happened but when I woke up, Julia was gone, and the dining room was a mess. She came back a couple days later and said I’d come unglued.”

“Did the memories come back after she told you what happened?”

“No…”

The word lingered too long and faded away. Nguyen maintained eye contact as he said it, gauging the response to the lie. A preschooler could have guessed he wasn’t being honest.

Time to throw a curveball.

“Tell me about Julia. What was she like?”

“Smart, troubled, passionate. She was very social and easy to be around. She took some pottery classes at the community college and made a bunch of friends.”

Lloyd’s ears perked up when Nguyen’s lip curled at the word ‘social’ before he continued.

This was a goldmine. Nguyen tapped his toes in a rhythm. Tap right, quick tap on the left, tap right. Smack, pat, smack. His feet moved again and the wheels on his chair ground as he twitched. Why this was uncomfortable for him was a mystery but the stress was obvious.

“Julia was an artist?” Lloyd asked.

“Not really. It was just a hobby.”

“Did she read?”

Nguyen was blank. “I don’t know.”

“Her friends say she started a book club. They met at the downtown Starbucks every week for two years.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence fell over the room. Lloyd leaned back and relaxed.

Nguyen’s mouth was pursed and his jaw was tight. Was he upset? Embarrassed? Guilty? It was hard to tell. He seemed keyed up about a topic that should have been old news. Bishop had been brutal in court as he recounted the domestic situation between him and Julia. If he could listen to all that in a courtroom, why should he be so concerned with not knowing about her book club?

“What was Julia’s mental health like?” Lloyd asked.

Shun’s shoulders dropped. It seemed the change of topic had eased his discomfort. Sure enough, his next words were practiced. As he described her episodes, his speech flowed as if he were reciting a memorized script. There were no pauses to figure out how to describe events or place them in context. But the more he talked, the more Lloyd smelled something fishy. Was he being too detailed? Or too vague?

Nguyen was in the middle of a sentence when Lloyd cleared his throat and raised his hand, signaling for a pause.

“What was the name of Julia’s psychiatrist?”

He blinked. “I don’t remember. It’s been a long time.”

“Hmmm. What steps did you take regarding Julia’s mental health?”

Nguyen wasn’t prepared for this line of questioning.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you assist Julia with managing her medications? Maybe you picked up her prescription for her, or discussed how her doctor’s visits went?”

Shun sniffed and a brief wrinkle of disgust passed over his face.

“I was very busy. She preferred to do things on her own and if I would have tried, she’d have accused me of poisoning her or something. As I described, she was an extremely unstable person to live with.”

Dr. Nguyen turned the conversation back to his comfort zone - Julia’s mental health. He described her mood swings, irrational behavior, and unpredictability. The point he seemed insistent to make was: even though you can prove I was abusive, so was she. Except the evidence for his allegations could be summed up as “trust me, bro.” He’d made this argument during his appeals. Those attorneys had been competent and even they couldn’t produce a shred of evidence that Julia had been abusive.

“Did your father hit your mother?”

Lloyd’s question made Nguyen’s head jerk back. His eyes dilated and his jaw went slack. The expression lingered as his brain processed the question and puzzled over the intent. He wasn’t acting. This was one emotion that was easy to read - genuine shock was difficult to fake. The fakers never held it for long enough. Real shock didn’t flare up and then vanish, it lingered until another emotion took its place.

“Excuse me?”

“Did your father hit your mother?” Lloyd repeated.

Nguyen swallowed.

“Or did he take it all out on you?”

Color blossomed on Nguyen’s cheeks. The whites of his eyes flashed and his head bobbed left. Lloyd tensed. It was instinctive to catalog the reaction. The suspected killer was right-handed, proven by his left sided head withdrawal. If he threw a punch, Lloyd was close enough to hook him by the left ankle and take him down.

Rather than choosing violence, Nguyen braced his feet and jerked his chin up.

“I had a happy childhood.”

The statement was about as convincing as saying mosquitoes don’t live in swamps. Lloyd let the silence press down on the room, keeping his eyes neutral. It didn’t take long.

“My mother left my father when I was a kid. I don’t remember him well.”

His lower teeth flashed in a subtle expression of defensiveness.

“What was your childhood like?”

“Happy. Cheerful. My mother worked very hard, but I was always well cared for by relatives or friends. I was an excellent student and had no trouble with my peers.”

“What about your father? Did you ever reconnect with him?” Lloyd asked.

The chin jut was more pronounced this time. Defensiveness? Or had there been a tremor of distress in the movement?

“I never reached out.”

“Why?”

“Why all the questions about my father?”

Lloyd shrugged. “If you want to move to another line of discussion…”

“My father was an unpleasant person. My mother argued with him a lot, or perhaps it was the other way around. I don’t know for sure. They put their disaster of a relationship out of its misery via divorce when I was… ten? Maybe I was nine.”

He shrugged and seemed almost unwilling to remember the details of the divorce. It was a marked change from someone who’d been excellent with dates until now. Lloyd waited. Nguyen became uncomfortable with the silence and filled it with more information.

“Since my father was the one who walked out, I took that as a clear message of what he wanted. I had no interest in speaking with him after that. None at all.”

Nguyen’s eyes were glued to Lloyd’s face again. He was carefully gauging the reaction his words were getting, and his cadence wasn’t as smooth as it had been. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“You visited Singapore twice in 2000. What were the dates of your visits?”

“Ah…” he had to think for a moment. Lloyd watched his eyes move as he rifled through his memories for the information. “I came back in October for my mother’s birthday and stayed for two weeks. Before Christmas I was here for a week to attend my uncle’s funeral.”

Your pen scratched again as you made a note.

“Tell us about the evening Julia died, in as much detail as possible.”

“I’ve already answered that a hundred times. If you want my side of events, go watch the tapes of my police interviews, the original trial, and the appeals.”

“Your neighbor, Mr. Corbin said he thought he saw a very large man lurking around your property that night. Do you think he could have seen anything related to the crime?”

Nguyen’s eyes flickered. “When did he say that?”

“It was in the evidence your attorney submitted at your second appeal.”

“I don’t remember it coming up. I guess… It’s likely he would’ve noticed anything unusual. He was that kind of guy, pretty bold about coming over and telling you what he thought if there was something he didn’t like. For an old codger he was quiet on his feet. He snuck up on me a couple times to complain about a dogwood tree that had grown into his yard. It’s possible he was sly enough to witness something without him noticing.”

Nguyen was staring into space, locked in his memory.

“What evidence do you think we should re-examine if we reopen the case? Was anything overlooked?”

His distant expression hardened. “I don’t know. That’s your job, not mine.”

“What do you think of your colleague’s testimony that you behaved differently that week?”

Lloyd was surprised by the flash of terror that crossed Nguyen’s face for a split second. The question had been fairly benign. He shrugged and sat back in his chair, adjusting his position. There was an abrupt avoidance of eye contact which he’d been comfortable making until now. Lloyd wanted more, so he poked around the idea with follow up questions.

Nguyen wouldn’t budge. Finally, he turned to a different topic.

“What do you think people thought of your behavior when you said Julia was crazy and gold-digging, right after learning she was dead?”

“I told the truth. If that’s uncomfortable for other people, it’s because they’re too preoccupied with etiquette and civility. You should say what you mean. I did. I won’t apologize for it, because it was the honest thing to do.”

“In your opinion, what kind of boyfriend were you?”

Nguyen sighed. “Not a very good one. Julia and I… we should have broken up a lot sooner than we did. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish we had.”

“Is there anything we haven’t asked you, that we should have?” Lloyd asked.

The suspect’s mouth compressed, curling his lips in until they disappeared. His distant expression returned, and then that same flash of terror crossed his features. Lloyd wished he could read minds. Nguyen was afraid of something.

Finally, he answered.

“No.”

“Alright. That’s all our questions, thank you for your cooperation.”

Nguyen glanced toward the shadow of Mr. Tao in the corner. Slowly, he stood up and left.

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

“He wanted to talk about the case.”

Your statement drew Lloyd’s attention back to the present. It was mid-afternoon, and you’d gone for a late lunch after Nguyen’s interview. A steaming mug of green tea sat in front of him. Despite the summer heat, he’d ordered the beverage hot and was enjoying it. You were halfway through a healthy slice of raspberry cake that you’d saved room for by ordering a seafood dish rather than pasta.

Lloyd nodded. “He wanted to talk, but he didn’t push a narrative about his innocence.”

“If no one listens to you for decades, maybe you eventually just accepted it?” you suggested.

“Is that normal?”

Your lips curved at his genuine curiosity.

“Generally, no. But did you see how smooth his forehead is? That’s not usual for a fifty year old man. When he talks, his facial expressions change very little. He’s not the social type.”

“He’d have wrinkles and laugh lines if he were,” Lloyd finished.

“In my opinion, yes.”

“Have you been talking to Zach lately?”

You laughed. “No. Landon. He’s been helping me get better at reading people.”

“Did you notice the tension when I brought up his father?”

“I was more interested in how uninterested he was trying to appear about it. There’s clearly something wrong there.”

“His father was abusive,” Lloyd said.

The notion surprised you, but Lloyd seemed definitive.

“I guess I missed that. Shall we go to the hotel and review our tape?”

“There’s no rush.”

Lloyd felt better now that the interview was done. Nguyen had ignored you, which was a better outcome than he could have hoped for. On the street, you slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. He was surprised at how nice it felt. Here, you could show affection without worrying about being recognized by the wrong person. Anyone who looked at you right now would perceive you as a couple. He liked that.

A block away from the restaurant, you squeezed his bicep.

He glanced over. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re being followed.”

“Describe him,” Lloyd said.

“Gray suit, black sunglasses. I can’t get a good look, but he’s behind us.”

“It’s Mr. Tao.”

Your brow wrinkled. “Why would he follow us? Shouldn’t he be tailing Nguyen?”

“He isn’t following us. He’s following me. They rarely grant visas to ex-spies, or ex-cons, in Singapore.”

“What?! But you’re not a spy anymore.”

“Which makes me even more suspicious. Agencies love sending an adjunct to do their dirty work. When I was in corporate law, I had a reputation for playing on the rosters of both government and industry.”

“Did I just catch a professional spy doing his job?”

You were so impressed with yourself that Lloyd didn’t have the heart to break it to you that Mr. Tao wasn’t even trying to hide. This was simply a pressure tactic. The Singaporeans wanted him to know they were riding his ass.

“What do you say we lose him for fun?” he suggested.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a good thing to know.”

A smirk tilted your lips. “Okay, I’m game.”

He was relieved when your grip on his arm relaxed, and your smile returned.

Being followed in a foreign country wasn’t fun, particularly if you’d never experienced it before. Lloyd waited for the signal to cross and eased closer to you.

“Step one is to turn unexpectedly, but never into a less crowded area. Stick to busy public areas and don’t just take any random turn. Look ahead and tell me where we should go.”

You scanned down the street. “The market.”

“Why?”

“It’s crowded.”

“Good choice. Make your stop appear logical,” Lloyd said.

You pretended to see the street market on the next block by happenstance. Luck was with you because the crossing light turned right as you made it to the end of the block.

“Ninety-degree turn,” Lloyd murmured. “Make sure to catch a glimpse of your tail from the corner of your eye.”

He let you lead him through the marketplace, stopping to buy a snack for later, pausing at a tourist shop to browse, and watching a sidewalk musician who’d attracted a crowd. You were excellent at unexpected stops, but most of the female agents he’d worked with had been. Women usually had a knack for making their surveillance stops look natural.

“We haven’t lost him,” you murmured to Lloyd as you approached the end of the street market, where it emptied into the next block.

“He’s a professional. What do you think we should do now?”

“Uh… run? Or jump him?”

Lloyd laughed. “That's vicious. He’s only doing his job.”

“He’s being creepy. If you’re being creepy and someone breaks your nose, you shouldn’t be surprised.”

“The only issue is that he’d do more harm to you than you would to him. Same goes for a random creepy man on the street.”

“Your certainty wounds me.”

“I’m a realist.”

You pouted, but allowed him to put his arm around your shoulders.

“When you get to a public place where you’re safe, call a friend. Me, Zach, someone who can help.”

“What if it’s a false alarm?”

“Call me anyway.”

“What if it’s two a.m.?”

“Call Jake. He’ll be up playing video games.”

You giggled. “So I can call you, even if it’s a false alarm, but not at two a.m.?”

“I need my beauty sleep.”

Lloyd used his body to guide you into a quick turn, ninety-degrees, toward the riverwalk.

“The most extreme step you can take, short of violence, is a reversal. Do something unexpected and change directions so it forces your tail to reveal himself. If he wants to stay inconspicuous, he can’t just do a one-eighty and expect you not to notice.”

You let him spin you again, this time onto the crowded riverwalk. Lloyd walked a few feet and stopped at a kiosk. He pulled out his wallet, swiped a credit card, and tapped the screen. The words were in Mandarin, so you couldn’t read them. The machine spit out two tickets. He took your hand and drew you back the direction you’d come. When you turned, you were face to face with Mr. Tao. He was trying to look casual in his suit and tie amongst the casually dressed tourists on the riverwalk. His jaw tightened as Lloyd flashed him a grin when you strode by. You were amused, and nervous, about taunting a foreign intelligence officer. But Lloyd was so confident that you couldn’t bring yourself to be terribly worried.

He made another sharp turn at the harbor and handed the tickets to a woman in a purple vest standing beside a podium. Behind her was a water taxi full of Chinese tourists.

“We’re going to stick out like sore thumbs. Particularly you.”

Lloyd’s suit was almost as bad as Mr. Tao’s. Surrounded by the casual clothing of the tourists, you were all over dressed. His height wasn’t doing you any favors either.

“Not from a distance,” Lloyd said.

The woman handed him the ticket stubs, and you followed Lloyd down the boarding plank into the boat. On board, you realized the boat was larger than it appeared from shore. Lloyd took your hand and led you through the top deck and down a flight of stairs. From the lower level, passengers were disembarking into a tunnel. To the left, a set of stairs led up to the riverwalk. You followed the crowd straight ahead and through a set of automatic doors. Immediately, you were disoriented by the juxtaposition of the damp subterranean walkway and the brightly lit displays surrounding you. Coach bags filled a large window. The neighboring storefront was filled with colorful bottles of perfume. A Sephora was on your right.

“This is an underground mall?”

Lloyd twined your fingers together. “Singapore is great for retail therapy.”

He herded you into a shop and encouraged browsing as he kept an eye out for Mr. Tao. You eventually found something you liked, and he insisted you try it on.

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

While you were in the dressing room, Lloyd stepped into an alcove and made a call. The other person answered quickly.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Zach, we have a problem.”

“Nguyen is creeping on your girl?”

“No. The problem is called Mr. Tao.”

Lloyd filled Zach in on what had transpired this morning.

“Here’s the rub: the guy isn’t Singaporean Intelligence. He’s one of ours. The CIA set a dog on me.”

“What tipped you off?”

“Princess noticed him after lunch and I showed her how to ditch a tail. His tactics were straight from a U.S. intelligence training manual. He’s not a field agent, but he’s nondescript and observant. I’d guess him to be an analyst with field training but limited operative experience.”

“You gathered all of that from his surveillance tactics?”

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to,” Lloyd growled.

Zach laughed. “Well, to be honest, I’m shocked they still think you’re that dangerous.”

“That’s why I’m calling. Sending a Singaporean officer after me would’ve been appropriate. This is overkill. I need to know what’s going on.”

“I’ll look into it.”

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

Your arms were covered in goosebumps.

The dress you’d intended to try on was draped over your lap as you perched on a dressing room stool. With your elbows planted on your knees, you stared at your phone. The barrage of new messages had appeared a moment ago. Your mind raced as you tried to wrap your head around the sight in front of you.

Somewhere between North America and Singapore, there’d been an issue with your cell service. You'd been turning your phone off and on all day trying to get it working. Since Lloyd’s phone was still connected, it hadn’t been a big deal. It hadn’t been a big deal until you switched it on in the dressing room and it had updated.

There were 342 new text messages. Two were from your sister. One was from your Mom, and the other was from Jen. A message Lloyd had tried to send you at lunch appeared, making you jump when your phone chirped. The remaining 337 messages were from an unknown number. The messages were creepy. You read a few of them, and that’s all it took to unsettle your stomach. There were quotes from horror movies, links to websites and videos that you didn’t dare open, and pictures. Pictures of gore and blood. It was as if Quinten Tarantino himself had co-opted your text messages.

Caleb hadn’t been the source of Friday’s weird call. He wasn’t capable of this. You didn’t know anyone capable of this. Except that you did, because there were 337 pieces of evidence that this person had your number.

Maybe the messages weren’t meant for you?

The creepy feeling you’d had in the park washed over you again. It washed the unrealistic optimism away. Fuck. You’d felt as if someone was watching you twice that day. Damn it. The shouting in the hallway… Mrs. Thompson had checked on it… your stomach pitched. What if something had happened to her?

You shutdown your phone, not wanting to risk any more messages arriving. You leaned against the wall and fought back gasps. The last thing you needed was to hyperventilate and faint in the dressing room of H&M. This had been going on all week… maybe longer. You’d felt eyes on you several times. Thinking back, the most intense feelings had occurred in the parking lot at work and last Thursday at Caleb’s baseball game. At Sam’s birthday on Friday you had been certain someone was prowling in the shrubbery near the trail. And there was that strange call last week on your office line, a device you hardly ever used. When strung together, the conclusion formed by the data was undeniable.

You had a stalker.

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

Next - Part VIII

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elen-aranel · 1 year

Text

All Work

For: @youvebeenlivingfictional Comfort Prompts, 11: Stopping by their workplace on your way home late at night with the hunch that they’re still there. Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Mention of canon-typical violence WC: 790 Rating: Teen Notes: tfw you have to post immediately before you lose your confidence... it's been a while!

When you press the chime for the door of the ready room, you hope there won’t be an answer.

You hope the captain is in his quarters, cooking, perhaps, or reading a book, or watching one of those black-and-white movies he enjoys. You would like it if he were working out in the gym, or maybe taking a walk in the arboretum amongst the trees.

But based on how he’s looked when you’ve seen him hurry down a corridor, when you’ve handed in a report on the bridge, he hasn’t been doing any of those things for a while. And right on cue—

“Enter.” The familiar voice sounds subdued as you step through the doors. Your eyes sweep across the mostly empty room, from the red armchairs, over the conference table and the display still showing the disputed border that the Enterprise had found herself in the middle of, to the desk at the other end with the captain sitting there, poring over a PADD.

And it’s more than just the stubble that’s there at the end of a long day. It’s the hunch of his shoulders. It’s—it’s not defeated, that isn’t the word, but the almost resolute look in his eyes. The way they’re narrowed slightly, just at the corners. You’ve known him for years, and it isn’t a good sign.

“He just has to get through it,” Una had said in an undertone, glancing round to make sure you weren’t being overheard at dinner in the mess hall. “He’s signing off on all the fitness evaluations, and he is personally going over every single repair log. I would’ve insisted, but when he’s in this mood—” She had given a small shrug. “I pick my battles. But you’re welcome to try…”

And so here you are.

“What can I do for—oh, hey,” his face relaxes a little, and the corner of his mouth quirks up just slightly. Not quite a smile, but it’s a start. “It’s—I guess it’s late, huh. Did you need something?”

“No, nothing. I don’t need anything. But…” You pull the last chair from the conference table, spin it round, and sit down so you’re more on his level. “It’s nearly gamma shift, and I wondered…” your eyes stray to his PADD. “Do you need to be doing those reports right now? I have it on good authority that they’re not due in for another month. Surely they’ll keep ‘till tomorrow.”

He shrugs. “As a captain you stay on top of the paperwork, or you drown in it. But… I could take a break. Drink?”

“Sure.”

He stands, walks round the desk, and heads to the other end of the room to pour two glasses of whiskey. He holds one out toward you, question in his expression, and you get up and join him. You sit together in one of the alcove sofas.

“Cheers,” he says, and you clink glasses. You enjoy the bite of the alcohol, the complex flavours on your tongue.

“So you spoke to Una?”

“She told me you were working through something. I just think you’re working too much. You know what they say…”

He rolls his eyes at that. Which you deserve.

“I just… I remember Rigel VII, Chris. And those months before. This… this conflict? It wasn’t that, but I worry, you know? I know being captain is the loneliest job and blah blah blah… but… sometimes I think you hold onto that load?”

He regards you with those pale blue eyes, softened now.

“When I gave the order to fire on that Zenali ship… I know it was the only order I could have made, and I don’t regret it, not for a second… but…” he tilts his head, takes another sip of his drink. “Meeting the Zenali ambassador, who lost his son... he was so gracious. He didn’t bear us any ill will. Just wanted to work towards peace.”

“Yeah.” You know that you can never fully understand the weight of those decisions, and those consequences, but at least you can be here with him. You lean back against the sofa, and after a beat, Chris mirrors you.

“I guess Number One could take a look at the repairs for me. Perhaps I will call it a night,” he says after a while.

“Yeah?” You try to play it cool, but you’re pretty sure he can read your relief.

“Yeah.” He smiles properly this time, downs the rest of his drink, and puts his glass up on the side. “So, any suggestions on what one can do around here to wind down?” He stands, and offers you his hand.

You take it, letting him pull you up. “I may have one or two…”

#Christopher Pike x Reader #Christopher Pike x You #Captain Pike #Christopher Pike Imagine #Star Trek Strange New Worlds #fanfic #writings of the girl from outer space #All Work

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seetangus · 1 year

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Flowers - Azula x reader - part I

Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII [main masterlist]

Azula x gn reader, no warnings, requested by 🌹-anon

651 words, enjoy :)

You watched in awe as Azula shot another wave of blue fire across the courtyard, setting the training dummy ablaze. As this had been the last part of her training, you quickly made your way over to her, leaving Mai and Ty Lee, who also were present, behind. You did this after every training session of hers, so they knew what was coming. Mai rolled her eyes and Ty Lee let out a small giggle as they watched you praise her, wishing to receive only the slightest bit of attention from her: "You were awesome, Azula!" "Of course I was. I always am.", she answered, seemingly more focused on taking off her training armour than on your presence.

Her reaction may be discouraging, but it was nothing you weren't used to after seven months of trying to get closer to her, so you simply went to the next step: "Do you think that we could train together sometime?" To your surprise, this actually made her look at you, she seemed genuinely surprised: "We? Train together?" Her answer made you feel a weird mix of worry and excitement. "I don't think that you could compete with me, y/n." She went to the dressing rooms after saying that, leaving you alone.

Now that was depressing. Ty Lee apparently had been close enough to understand what Azula said, because she sent you an apologetic look. She and Mai were more or less the only people who knew of your feelings towards Azula. Them and General Iroh. Well, you weren't sure about whether he knew, especially as he wasn't in the palace very often, and even when he was, no one could be sure about what he knew of. He had been giving you some weird looks when you tried to flirt with Azula though, so you simply assumed that he knew too.

But that wasn't important now. You quickly smiled back at Ty Lee and hurried to your chamber, already a new plan in mind on how to take Azula's heart. Okay, if you were realistic, it probably wouldn't make her fall madly in love with you, but it should at least make her like you a bit more, and possibly show her how much you cared about her.

You went into your room, walking over to the fireplace. There stood, blooming as bright as the sun, your new plan: a panda lily. It was a rare flower you had brought here from a trip (some might call it an invasion) to the earth kingdom. It needed very special conditions to survive, so you would only take it out of its pot shortly before you would give it to her, to make sure it didn't wither away before she could plant it in one of her pots. You wondered if she would choose a pretty pot? Where would she put the pot? You would have never thought that dreaming of flower pots could be so romantic.

You had heard of a conference that was taking place soon. Mai, Ty Lee, some generals, and most importantly Azula would be there. Even if you had not been invited, your rank allowed you to show up as a visitor. An opportunity you would normally have picked, but in this case you decided to show up shortly before the conference was over. You would give the flower to her when she headed out. It felt better to do it in a somewhat open space because the atmosphere would be less tense. Of course you would still do it in a discreet manner. You didn't want the whole palace talking about it.

You took a few moments to admire your flower, the one that would soon be held by Azula's hands, and gently pulled it out of the pot. Along with some earth you put it in a cloth and began making your way to the conference hall.

#atla #atla azula #atla x reader #azula #azula avatar #azula x gn reader #azula x reader #azula x y/n #azula x you #fire lord azula #azula imagine #princess azula #atla x you #atla imagine #avatar #x y/n #x you #x reader #x gn reader

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dodoscreamb · 2 years

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Aside from Jin-zongzhu, Jiang-zongzhu had someone else who looked like him: a disciple named Zhuo Cheng*.

But the young boy's character and attitude was the exact opposite of Zongzhu. It was the object of amusement for Yunmeng Jiang.

Until one day, for some reason or other (Jiang Cheng was cursed into a lotus flower in the middle of discussion conference, for plot reason), Zhuo Cheng had to pretend to be Zongzhu for a week.

*any similarities to real people are not intended

SCENE I

Second-In-Command: you just sit there and let us do the talking, ok?? Make sure you sit like zongzhu!

Zhuo Cheng: Okay :3

Second-In-Command: DON'T DO THAT FACE!!

Zhuo Cheng: gosp okay sorry! Ahem. Okay 😡

Third-in-Command: I'm having a headache.

SCENE II

Zhuo Cheng, penguin flapping his sleeves: 😊😊🎶🎶

Outsiders: J-Jiang zongzhu ⁉️⁉️😵😵

Spiders: *palmface*

SCENE III

Jin Ling decides to help.

"Ok, let's try acting. If I forgot to bring my flare, what will Jiujiu say?"

"Reckless child! Check your props before night hunting, or I'll break your legs!"

"Ok, good enough."

"Yay!" 😊

"... Jiujiu don't do "yay", Cheng-ge."

SCENE IV

Zhuo Cheng, accidentally putting on his slutsona:

Second-In-Command, throwing smoke bomb and dragged Zhuo Cheng out of the room: STOP ADVERTISING ZONGZHU TO THESE HORNEE BEASTS

SCENE V

*sect leaders' gossip*

"Jiang-zongzhu is different today."

"Mn. He's less scary and more ..." *gestured abstractly*

*Zhuo Cheng doing a tinie little dance in the background*

"...Cringe?"

"Cringe. Adorable though."

"Makes me feel like I'd die for him."

*everyone nodded solemnly*

SCENE VI

Third-in-Command: ?? Why is the healer going to A-Cheng's room? Is he hurt!?

Spider 1: sorry, shixiong, it's our fault 😞

Spider 2: we encouraged Zhuo Cheng to train his zongzhu sneer 😞

Spider 1: he gave it his all and sprained his cheeks 😞

Zhuo Cheng, can't stop sneering: 😭😭😭

SCENE VII

Jiang-zongzhu, in his lotus flower form: ....

Assistant Healer 1: is it just me or lotus-zongzhu looks stressed?

Assistant Healer 2: it's just you. How come a flower looks stressed 🙄

Jiang-zongzhu, petals blackening:

Assistant Healers:

SCENE VIII

Oh, the conference is at Yunshen Buzhichu, so:

Zhuo Cheng: 😊😊😊🌻🌻

Wei Wuxian, sneaking behind him, knife to his throat: who are you and what did you do to Jiang Cheng? 🙂

Zhuo Cheng, turning around: shixiong 🥺👉👈

Wei Wuxian, dropping his knife dramatically:

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #yunmeng jiang #jiang cheng #jiang wanyin #ymj tales #wei wuxian #jin ling #canon jiang cheng #canon yunmeng jiang #yunmeng jiang SIC

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callsign-joyride · 2 years

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Yankee Rose | J.H.S | 0.7

Summary: Getting called back to Top Gun couldn't have come at a better time for Erica "Miami" Kazansky. This was her fourth time being called back to Top Gun, and the failing marriage made her as excited as ever to go back. As one chapter ends, another one begins, but the connotation of that statement is up to interpretation.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC Erica "Miami" Kazansky

Content warnings: Angst, drinking, everyone is on the highway to the danger zone

(I hate myself for typing that lol)

vii. We're Not Gonna Take It

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART | TAGLIST

To say that Erica was angry was an understatement. She was one of the first people to find out that Mav was no longer going to be their instructor for the mission, and it was just something that she didn't understand. What made her more mad was the fact that Cyclone had decided to change the parameters of the mission, which ironically increased the stakes for everyone involved. Everyone was looking around and almost panicking as Cyclone gave everyone the briefing.

"Time to target is now four minutes. You'll be entering the valley level at reduced speed. Not to exceed 420 knots."

"Sir, won't we be giving their planes time to intercept?" Bob asked.

"Well, Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft. What are the chances of surviving a head on collision with a mountain?"

Erica looked at Hangman and Coyote, and then to Rooster, before speaking up.

"Admiral, respectfully, if something happens up there and I die, what are you gonna tell my mom? Or my siblings? That things didn't go as planned because of your faulty calculations?"

"Lieutenant Kazan-,"

"I'm not done. You're giving us too much time and not enough speed. Sure, we might make it to the target without getting caught, but getting out of there is gonna be a nightmare. If those SAMs don't wipe us out, enemy aircraft certainly will."

There was a moment of silence as everyone in the room looked at her. The silence felt eerie, until Cyclone cleared his throat and continued on with the briefing. Everyone leaned forward when they saw Mav's plane appear on the screen. Erica tried not to laugh as everyone stood up while Mav flew the simulation on his own terms, successfully.

Erica laid in her bed at the end of the day. Training had ended, and she hadn't been reprimanded by either of the admirals yet, so it was pretty safe to assume that nothing was going to happen. Until she got a text from Mav, telling her to meet him in a conference room on base. Something about needing to talk to her.

She was more than surprised when she walked in to see Warlock and Cyclone there, too.

"Lieutenant. I could reprimand you for the act of insubordination earlier, but I'm not going to. I told Maverick that I can either risk the success of the mission and the pilots, or I can risk my career. He wants you to be team leader. He insisted on it, in fact."

"What? Are you sure? I'm not a Captain, I'm not a Commander. Sir, I'm not qualified for this."

"You've been qualified for it before. You're the only one that successfully flew the first simulation last week. Rooster made it to the target, but he was late. You made it to the target on time and you made it out on time. This isn't the first mission that you've led, we all know that. But of course, if you don't want to be team leader, I can hand the position over to Maverick."

Erica glanced over at Maverick and saw the look that he was giving her. He wanted her to take the position.

"It would be an honor, sir."

They talked her through the process of selecting her teammates before she was allowed to leave. The feeling of anxiety was almost overwhelming. She only had a few days to make the decision, but she also couldn't tell anyone that she was going to be team leader. She went back to her dorm and grabbed her bag when Phoenix looked up.

"You good? You look deep in thought," she said.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I'm going out, though. I'll be back in a few hours," Erica said. Phoenix nodded her head and watched her leave. Hangman and Erica passed each other in the parking lot, but she was driving out as he was coming back from somewere, so they didn't have time to chat.

It didn't take long for Hangman to find Phoenix, she was in the kitchen with Bob and Fanboy.

"Hey, is Miami okay? We passed each other in the parking lot and she looked like she was about to throw up."

"I don't know, she's probably just stressed about the mission. We all are. She said that she was heading out but I'm not worried."

"Okay, thanks."

Erica wanted to be at the beach, but she felt like she needed to avoid The Hard Deck. So she decided to drive thirty minutes the other way, because she probably wasn't going to run into anyone that she knew. When she got to the beach, she kicked her shoes off and stood at the shore.

"I don't know what to do, dad. I'm mission leader and I have to pick who I'm flying with, but I know that there are some people who won't be happy about whatever decsion I make. Hangman's gonna be mad if I make Rooster my wingman, Rooster's gonna be mad if I make Hangman my wingman. Neither of them should be my spare but six of us have to go. I shouldn't have said yes to Mav, but I did, and now I'm scared. Mostly, I'm just worried about what mom is gonna do if I die."

She took a deep breath and picked up a few sea shells as she gathered her thoughts. She finally decided to go to The Hard Deck when messages in the group chat kept on appearing on her phone. When she walked in, Rooster ordered her a beer. The night felt weird, because she wasn't allowed to tell anyone that she was going to be mission leader. (Liability issue, the admirals had said.)

Mav came over and sat next to her after a little bit. Rooster had been at the piano as usual, and everyone seemed to be focused on him.

"You okay? You haven't touched your beer."

"I can't say. What if I pick the wrong people?"

"You won't. You've seen every single person in this program fly. There are a few days before you have to make your announcement, so that's more time to train and think. I think you know who to pick."

He was right. She knew who she was going to pick, Foxtrot teams and all, but keeping it a secret was going to be the hardest part.

Everyone stood in front of the admirals and Mav as they made the selection announcement. Erica was doing a pretty good job at keeping things a secret until Mav wrapped up his speech and called her to the stage. When he introduced her as team leader, she could've sworn that she caught Hangman's face drop.

"Choose your two Foxtrot teams," Cyclone said.

"Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob."

"And your wingman."

After some hesitation, Erica glanced around before she said, "Rooster,". Once she announced that Hangman was going to be the dagger spare, everyone was dismissed. Everyone was congratulating her and wishing her good luck, but there was something about the way that Hangman was acting that told her something was off. They walked out of the locker room together, but he seemed miles away.

"Hey! What's your problem?" She asked. He looked around before pulling her around a corner.

"You sidelined me. We both know that I have the qualifications to do this but you were playing favorites and-,"

"Woah. I wasn't playing favorites because if I was... Actually, nevermind. Listen, I don't think you really know how scary this will be. Yeah, we ran the simulations. But those SAMs are going to launch as soon as we get out of Coffin Corner. We didn't run simulations for that. I'm gonna say some scary shit and I need you to listen. Don't stand there like an asshole and act like you're listening, actually listen. Okay?"

Hangman nodded his head before Erica sighed and took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"When I made it to TOPGUN, my dad made me create a will. If something happens, I need you to make sure that Rooster's okay. Mav will never forgive himself if he dies. I also need you to make sure that there's someone to take care of my family, understood?"

"Yeah, but it sounds like you think you're gonna die up there."

"Maybe I am. That's why I need a fail-safe. There's nothing in my will about who I want to take care of my family when I die because I didn't like you ten years ago. No offense. You can't tell anyone that this conversation happened until something happens to me. If something happens, that is."

The last thing that Erica expected was for Hangman to give her a hug. She returned the hug after a minute, and it was a nice moment that they had shared. It didn't seem like he wanted to let go, either. Erica patted his shoulder after a few moments as a cue to get him to let go. She almost struggled to hide the smile on her face as she pulled back and turned around.

"We have to be on the carrier by 0700, so I'll see you then," she said, before walking away completely. Hangman made it to his room barely before giggling and getting out his phone.

"Now I can see why she made you the spare," Coyote said.

"Shut up."

Tag list:

@littlebadariell @jakexfmc @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty

#jake hangman seresin #hangman x oc #top gun maverick #top gun #erica miami kazansky #yankee rose #jake seresin x oc #top gun maverick x oc

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