#FOUR THINGS I have to call the shop to get an estimate for a car I’m not even going to bother to fix | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

debbierhea · 3 years

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and the world around us shatters / better call saul / wc: 2392 / kimmy jimmy omaha cinnabon reunion / special thanks to @kimberly-wexler for the beta <3

Summary:

She’d been searching. For years.

She’d been searching. For years. Hired a PI and then another. Scoured every database she had credentialed access to and then a few she didn’t. Even adopted a cat to soothe the loneliness, lull the throbbing emptiness she felt in her chest. She’d had one as a girl once, a stray really, whom she loved. But this cat was as sulky and capricious as she had become and no matter how committed she was to ignoring it, the ulterior motive of pet adoption was glaring, if not to anyone else, to her.

After three months of No. Not like this. You can’t. Leave it alone. Don’t get involved, the ill-tempered tabby was Kim’s foot in the door. It was a Thursday when she sat across from his veterinarian, cat on the exam table, and said, “I need your help.”

“What kind of help are we talking?” He eyed her, stroked the tabby between her ears.

“I’m looking for someone.” Silence followed.

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that.”

“You know him. Jimmy McGill.”

His eyebrows rose. More silence.

“Well, can you help me or not?”

“You know it’s not always a matter of can I help.”

Kim tilted her chin, raised her eyes to meet his, unflinching. “Does that mean you won’t help me?”

“Hm?” The cat was purring into his hand, licking his thumb. “Oh, no. Just that my price may be something you’re unwilling to pay.”

She swallowed. “That’s not possible.”

“Okay then,” he nodded, stuck out his hand. She shook it.

Now, she was wandering through a sea of midwesterners in puffy coats and mittens, dusting snow off their shoulders, chattering about the weather. She hasn’t been back to this part of the country in years and it oddly feels like a homecoming, though she stopped considering Nebraska home the moment she left. It was simply a place she had lived, never one that offered family or comfort or love. There were sparse memories of joy with the odd classmate and a fond recollection of the first grade teacher who encouraged her to read, helped her get her very own library card. But now as then, there never existed a sense of ease or belonging for her. Even so, the familiarity of the Casey’s General Store on the corner, the Runzas on menus across state rest stops, the flurries of snow reddening her nose and chilling her bones, fostered a small flame of hope deep inside. She could still recognize, even find comfort in, a place she so detested. After the passage of so many years, this place was still the same and, underneath the new high rises and parking meters and sushi restaurants, she could see the bones of this city. Maybe the same could hold true for other things in her life.

Looking over the map in the lobby, she cupped her hands before her mouth and blew into them. The chill rested deep inside her, the hope she fostered in her heart doing little to warm her weary bones. All her work was to lead to this: trudging up the tiled stairs in damp snow boots surrounded by people who knew nothing about pain, not really. Not pain like hers.

She smelled it before she saw it, curving with the second floor walkway past storefront after storefront of clothes and books and knick knacks. She had just side-stepped the man trying to give free lotion samples when the warmth of cinnamon and sugar wafted over her. Her footsteps stuttered and her gait slowed. It was like watching a car whose engine was stalling out. She was light-headed, unable to string a thought together, parse out what she was feeling in her body besides a deep urge to run. Her therapist would tell her that she wanted to run because of her fear of being vulnerable and then being left behind. Again. Kim pushed hair that had fallen loose of her ponytail behind her ear, took three deep breaths, and followed her nose.

A small line stood in front of the cash register, three or four people, waiting for a treat to get them through their holiday shopping. She contemplated her next step from across the food court. Anticipation fluttered through her, givinggave rise to goosebumps beneath her layers of knit and down. Then further, deeper, beneath the adrenaline, lived something twisting and gnawing inside of her chest. She knew this thing like she knew the location of every security camera at the Hinky Dinky or the route she took home after school when her mom got too lost in the liquor aisle to remember to pick her up. This thing she knew was fear—fear of hope, of the inevitable ache of a further bruised heart. She crossed the food court despite it.

Trying to slip back into her midwestern skin, move through this world unassuming and deferential, she stood to the right of the registers, observing the ebb and flow of workers behind the glass. Dough was being kneaded by one, another opened an oven to check the progress of the bake. A third manned the register. A second till was sat unused, cash drawer open and empty. She stood there, just outside the current of customers, twitching her chapped fingers, tapping them against the inside of her own palm. He used to tease her for it. Five minutes passed, then ten. The line grew longer. Her flame of hope was waning.

Then, a voice—a bellow, more like—broke through the low hum of conversation in the food court.

“Coming! I’m coming, Miranda!” Kim froze.

A man in an apron and mustache came through the door marked “Employees Only” and made his way to the front of the store, a full cash drawer in his hands.

“Sorry! For some reason the safe just wouldn’t open.”

Kim was drifting through the crowd, pulled toward his voice. Her eyes began to burn.

“Here are some quarters for you. I figured you might be running low.” His eyes flicked up, scanning the crowd, estimating how many rolls they should throw into the oven. “I’ll open this one up and—,” his roaming gaze stopped. “And I, uh....”

She swallowed, her throat tight, eyes glassy. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He stood, slack jawed, staring.

“Um, Miranda I—Just, uh, just take this,” he handed the cash drawer to the teenager standing next to him, eyes never leaving Kim’s. “I’ll be right back.”

His shoes squeaked as he made his way around the counter and out into the seating area of the restaurant. Kim hadn’t moved, stunned like a deer in headlights on a Nebraska back road. He seemed as though he was moving in slow motion, each step towards her an eternity, and yet it was still not long enough to prepare herself for him to be standing directly in front of her. She felt like she’d just fallen through the ice into a glacial lake. No, she hadn’t fallen. She’d jumped. On purpose. And broke through.

He stood there, inches from her; she could see the gray in his mustache. He paused, just for a moment, then said, “Follow me.”

And she did.

They weaved in and out of tables and shoppers and janitors picking up fast food wrappers off the floor. He glanced back at her once, as if he was scared she wouldn’t be there behind him, as if she hadn’t been following him, chasing him, for what felt like her whole life. He led them down a hallway, empty save for a woman waiting on a bench between two bathroom doors, one labeled with a dress, the other a tie. Kim gave her a close-mouthed smile.

Jimmy stopped abruptly, reaching for the door to the family restroom. He held it open, looked into her eyes. Kim gave the woman another glance, cheeks reddening, and walked through the door before she could think or feel or do anything that would make her stop herself. She moved towards the far, tiled wall and as she turned, heard the clicking of the door’s latch, then the lock.

He paused then, there, gripping the door handle, his head resting against its grain. His body was tense, coiled and bound and, she realized, foreign to her. Stooped shoulders, billowing polo, slight waist cinched by an apron. Even from behind, he looked bleary, posture like a drooping flower on the sill. What happened to him?

Kim was grateful for this pause he was granting her. Everything seemed to be moving at a pace she was incapable of matching, an emotional marathon she had not trained for; she never did have much emotional stamina outside of simply holding them all in, like a child holding their breath in the deep end of the pool.

Then, he turned.

He was just as unfamiliar from the front as he was from behind, cheeks a bit sallow and stippled with five o’clock shadow, wiry glasses. His nametag read “Gene.” But Jimmy McGill was still the same in his bones and in the time it takes to exhale that breath you’ve been holding under the gentle waves of your childhood pool, the split second it takes for that breath to form a spray of bubbles racing you to the surface, they were in each other’s arms.

Centered on the yellowing, speckled tile, they grasped at shoulders and elbows, knees knocked, tears fell. Finally, Kim slipped her arms around his ribs and clutched him to her chest, nails digging into cotton and, beneath, soft skin. His face caught between shoulder and neck, he inhaled the scent of her, goosebumps rising as her puffy, down sleeves brushed against his bare arms. His hands roamed her back, skidding and sliding across slick fabric. It felt as if his hands had been frozen and he had finally found the fire he’s sought to warm them. Sneaking his right hand up and up and under the thick wool of her scarf, he hesitated just a moment before placing his fingertips to the soft skin of her neck. She gasped, a sob drawn out on a breath. His left hand pushed into the small of her back. She pulled him in tighter.

They held each other there, flushed and desperate and weepy, for a time—how long, neither could say. As the hand rubbing her back would slow, she would squeeze his middle gently as if to say Not yet and he would answer with gentle pressure between her shoulder blades. When her grip on him would loosen, his fingers would drift into the hairs at the base of her neck, pulling her impossibly closer, and she would let him. This is how they stayed, questioning and answering each other as only they could with little more than a sigh passing through their lips.

Then, Kim began to pull gently away. He stiffened the moment he sensed her movement from him, but she did not try to leave his embrace, this wasn’t her intention, not truly. She only wanted to see his dear face, maybe say hello. Placing one hand on his chest, she leaned ever so slightly back as his arms moved to circle her waist. Tears clung to his lashes and dripped from the tip of his nose. He swallowed hard as her eyes roamed his face, different but somehow entirely the same. She felt like she was back in the HHM parking garage bumming a smoke from the new guy in the mailroom. Hundreds of days and miles from then, he was still hers.

Bringing both hands up, cupping his jaw, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs, she smiled. “Jimmy.”

At this, his eyes closed, Kim holding him tenderly in her palms. He hasn’t heard that name in years. When was the last time he thought of himself as anyone other than Saul Goodman? Saul the criminal defense attorney. Saul on the run. Saul posing as a Cinnabon manager. More tears fell free.

Removing his hands from her waist, he held her delicate wrists, one in each hand, his thumbs mimicking her caress across his skin. She gave the slightest tilt of her head and he answered with a reed-thin voice, a sad smile, “It’s you.”

She knitted her perfectly arched brows, that tell-tale wrinkle emerging between them, her eyes soft and wet, red-rimmed. She bit her lip and began to shake her head, never removing her gaze from his. After a moment, she smiled again, smaller this time, lips closed, and slipped one hand smoothly into his, the other onto his shoulder, not willing to break contact.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

More tears welled in Jimmy’s eyes as he rolled them to the ceiling, heart aching.

“Kim…I…”

“I know.” A pause. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Baby, I know.”

From shoulder back to his neck, Kim guided Jimmy with her hand, resting his forehead against her own, meeting in the middle, holding him there.

“Oh god—” a sob broke from deep in his chest.

Kim stroked his neck, shoulder, face, back. Jimmy wept.

Tears darkened the collar of his polo shirt and the tremors running through his body prompted Kim to wrap herself around him once more, burying her nose in his neck, focusing on the sickly-sweet scent of yeasted dough rising, cinnamon, and icing sugar over the pain so fierce living in the main between her arms.

As all things do with time, his sobs became weaker and fewer, until his breathing returned to a shallow, exhausted inhale, sniffly exhale. Kim lifted him from her shoulder and he raised his eyes towards hers. Her lips twitched, and then she brought them to his cheek. One, then the other, over and over, like salve to a wound she covered his drying tear tracks with her lips. Gentle and soft, like the flap of a butterfly’s wings did she kiss him. And then, she centered herself, hand threading into his hair, she moved to his lips.

“Kim,” he whispered, a breath from her lips.

“Yes?”

“What if you’ve come all this way to find someone who…doesn’t exist. Not anymore.”

Again, Kim knit her brows and shook her head. She placed her right hand over his heart, lifted her shoulders gently in a shrug.

“It’s you.”

#better call saul #bcs #mcwexler #my fic

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

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‘cause you are, you are

pairing: lumberjack!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 8,436

summary: Bucky’s found someone out on his front lawn during a snowstorm. Well, Alpine found her. If only he knew what he was getting into.

warnings: Bad words! Violence! Mention of kidnapping! Mention of military violence/injury! Mention of suicidal thoughts!

a/n: So the song I listened to that kinda really inspired this is ‘Get You the Moon’ by Kina. Also, this was commissioned by @buckysbunny and I really hope you love it, babe!

“Come on, Al,” Bucky said as he led his dog up the front steps of his cabin, carrying all the grocery bags inside. He had a cigarette between his teeth, keeping it steady as he unlocked the door and let the gorgeous samoyed inside. “Atta girl.”

The cabin was just as he left it three hours ago when he left to go grocery shopping. As it should.

And Alpine was already standing at her bowl, wagging her tail. She knew what time it was.

“You hungry, baby girl?” He asked with a grin as he grabbed the beef he’d been thawing in the sink and opened it up. “Today’s a beef day. We both know how much you love cows, yeah?” He put a cup of beef in her bowl, powdering in her supplements. “The best girl deserves the best food, yeah?” He asked as he cracked two eggs on top of it, before setting it on the ground. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at the way that Alpine sat there in front of the bowl, waiting for the go ahead as her tail wagged aggressively. “Eat. Good girl.”

Kicking off his boots, he started up a fire in the fireplace. The clouds were rolling in, the sun already setting. He’d lived on the mountain long enough to know when the first real snow of the season was setting in. They’d already had flurries, sure, but… The first real snow was the first one that had everyone locked inside, unable to go anywhere for weeks. He could smell it on the air.

Thankfully he was all stocked up on wood, so they’d be warm. He’d already moved up Alpine’s dinner time so it would still be light outside when she needed to go outside to use the bathroom. And they had more than enough food in the fridge and in the deep freeze to last them the entire winter, if they needed. They’d be okay.

Honestly, his biggest worry was losing Alpine in the snow. She was a big floof of white fur. She always came when he called, but still. It was the principle of it.

After she went to the bathroom, the two of them curled up on the couch while he ate and they watched whatever DVD he popped in. He’d probably binge watch the box set of nature documentaries he’d gotten.

They were… relaxing. After spending a few tours in Afghanistan, he needed relaxing.

It had been ten years, but… some things don’t fade with time. Some things stick like gummy bears on a car seat in July.

It was past midnight when Alpine raised her head from his lap, a low whine in the back of her throat. By then, he’d cracked open a beer and been fully ready to fall asleep there.

“Al? Come on, baby girl, there’s nothing out there,” he said reassuringly. It was snowing heavily, and he’d estimate there was already about seven inches deep with no sign of stopping.

But Alpine gets off the couch and runs for the door, barking sharply.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” He asked as he watched her. “Alpine, come.”

For the first time in the four years since he’d gotten her, she didn’t listen.

Instead, she let out another bark as she clawed at the door.

“Al,” he groaned as he forced himself up. He left the beer on the coffee table before heading to the door. “There’s nothing out there. Just snow. You’re just gonna get cold and get the floors all wet.”

But, alas, he’s a slave to the desires of his puppy.

It’s kinda pathetic, really. Not that he cared.

He opened up the door to let her out, frigid air blasting him. The snow crept up onto the porch, and there was so much coming down it looked almost like a curtain. “See, Al? Nothing.”

But she ran out into the snow, nudging at what just looked like another pile of fluffy white snow. She let out a whine, the only parts clearly visible of her being her dark nose and eyes.

And that’s when a head appeared, and his heart stopped. What the fuck was a woman doing out in the middle of a snow storm?

Despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing shoes and he’d just changed into a fresh pair of sweats, he ran out to where Alpine was still trying to nudge her awake. The snow was freezing his toes as he reached down and scooped up the girl, woman, whatever, and carried her inside.

“Come on,” he called out to the samoyed, who was following quickly after him, her tail tucked between her legs. “You’re such a smart puppy,” he cooed as he laid the girl on the couch. “You knew she was out there and made sure I got to her. Good puppy.”

From the color of her lips, there was no doubt in his mind that hypothermia was starting to set in. And from what she was wearing? Come on. She didn’t even have shoes on. Just two pairs of socks.

Fuck. He’d have to strip her down. He needed to get her warm, and the clothes she wore weren’t doing anything to help her since they were thin and soaking wet. “You better not kill me when you wake up,” he grumbled as he pulled her clothes off of her, keeping his eyes averted. She didn’t even have underwear or a bra on.

It wasn’t that he was some kind of creep. He just felt awkward. He didn’t know this woman and he wasn’t some kind of life saver.

Bucky was alarmed by the amount of bruises that covered her body, though it looked as though there was a purposeful lack of them on her face. There were also what looked like fresh scrapes along her hips.

He wrapped her in every blanket he could find after grabbing fresh clothes from the laundry room and redressing her, cocooning her before shoving the couch closer to the fire so that it may warm her easier. But she still seemed so cold. He moved to the kitchen, taking a few hot water bottles from the first aid cabinet and warming them up before gently dabbing one at her face, the only part of her still exposed.

Bucky knew that the only thing he could do now was wait for her to wake up. Pressing two fingers to her neck, he let out a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse. “You’re not out of the woods yet,” he said as he grabbed his beer and took a swig. It was going to be a long night.

Alpine was more than happy with the addition of a new person in their home, if not still a little worried. She climbed up onto the couch and curled up against her, sniffing at her face and giving her a lick before lying her head down beside her.

“She’ll be okay, Al,” Bucky said quietly as he reached out to give her scritches right above her tail. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but… Maybe Alpine would understand and calm down a little.

My first thought when I woke up was that I was warm. Really warm.

I hadn’t been warm in such a long time.

My eyelids were so heavy, and I had no desire to open them just yet.

What would I find when I woke up? If I was back in His possession, in his house, I… I would need to resort to Plan B.

Technically, Plan B had been Plan A a few times, when things had gotten… especially hard. But He had caught me before I could succeed.

The last thing I could remember was stumbling through the snow. I’d managed to finally get out after planning it for months. I waited until He’d gone out for his nightly trip to the bars before pulling on my two pairs of socks and slipping out through the broken basement window.

The broken glass that I had thought would cause me to freeze to death had become my salvation.

I had been going down the mountain, following the road. But it had started to snow. I’m not sure how long I had been walking when I could see the path anymore, or when I saw the light.

The first light I had seen in the stifling white. It had been coming from a window, cutting through the storm like a beacon of hope.

The wave of relief I had felt at the cabin slowly taking shape in front of my very eyes had been euphoric. I had started to think that if I was going to die, at least I wasn’t going to die in captivity.

But I hadn’t even made it to the porch steps.

Which brought me to where I am now. Wrapped up in what I was pretty sure was several blankets. But I could smell… dog? He didn’t have a dog. No pets allowed.

He also didn’t have a crackling fireplace, from what I remember of the few times I’d been allowed upstairs.

Yeah. Definitely no fireplace.

I made sure to stay completely still as I felt two calloused fingertips press against the pulse point in my neck.

“Well, Al, her heart rate has increased…”

So it was definitely a man.

I’d gotten really good at pretending to be asleep over the years. Like, really, really good. It wasn’t often that He’d been able to tell that I was awake if I didn’t want him to know.

There was a whimper, and then a rough tongue licked across my face. The dog. Which was (hopefully) this ‘Al.’ I didn’t want to deal with more than one man.

The man sighed and walked away. “You gonna keep watch over her, baby girl? I gotta go get a shower.”

Did he think the dog was going to answer him?

As soon as I heard his footsteps going up a set of stairs, I took in a deep breath before slowly letting it out. I needed to get out of there. Immediately.

I just had to slip out without him hearing me or the dog making a scene.

I slowly opened my eyes, even though it still felt like I had washers glued to my lashes.

And there was the fireplace. It was so nice and warm… I hadn’t felt this toasty in years. The basement was always so frigid, and with the lack of blankets provided to me, I was always at least a little cold.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay for a little while…

No. I shook my head as I forced myself to sit up. I couldn’t stay. I had to get out and get down the mountain to civilization.

I gasped as I felt the rough tough on my cheek again, turning to see a huge white dog that looked more like a cloud than an animal. “Shh…” I had to work to get my arms out of the blankets to pet it, but it was then that I realized I was not in my original clothing underneath all the swaddling. My heart sank to my stomach as I felt a wave of panic.

Had he touched me? Was he no better than Him?

I got most of the blankets off and frowned as I looked down at sweatpants and the long sleeved shirt I was wearing. They were far too big for me, but they’d have to do.

I kept my steps feather light as I looked around the space I had found myself in. It was a living room, and rather cozy. Rustic looking. I could see the kitchen to my left, and a silent debate with myself started over whether or not I’d have time to grab food for myself before running. From the way my stomach growled, I knew that I’d have to.

I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, since today was not my scheduled day to eat.

The cloud dog followed me to the fridge, its tail wagging as I grabbed what I could reasonably carry. It took everything within me to not stop and play with her. I hadn’t seen a dog in so long, especially not one so sweet. Its tail kept wagging even as it watched me stealing food.

I was reaching for the jar of pickles when I heard the cocking of a gun, and I turned around to see a large, burly man pointing a handgun at me. The food in my hands dropped to the ground as I threw my hands up, my heart racing. The jar of pickles shattered, the glass flying all over the floor. “I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I gushed, feeling sweaty under the pressure of the barrel being pointed at me. “I don’t know where I am. I j-just woke up and I’m s-so hungry.”

Bucky’s heart pounded as he got out of the shower, hearing a commotion downstairs.

His instincts took over, and he didn’t have time to even think things through before pulling on a pair of briefs and grabbing his handgun from his bedside table before slipping down the stairs.

He had the gun in both hands as he peeked around the corner, seeing a girl digging through his fridge. It was the cocking of the gun that alerted her to his presence, and she whirled around.

She was pretty, he could acknowledge that much.

It was when she was rambling that suddenly he remembered. The girl in the snow. But he’d been certain that she wouldn’t wake up for at least a few more hours.

His startling blue eyes stayed locked on her as he flipped the safety back on. But he still kept it raised. “Who are you?” He demanded, his voice gruff, deep.

She gave her name, and he frowned. Just a first name? No last?

“Where did you come from?”

“U-Up the mountain,” she said quietly, a few tears rolling down her pretty cheeks. “Please, I… I mean no h-harm. Please. I’ll go. I swear.”

He shook his head, slowly lowering the gun. It wasn’t like she was much of a threat. She clearly had no idea what she was doing. “Don’t be stupid. You already almost froze to death once out in the storm. Leaving would just mean that you wasted my efforts to save your life.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, still not moving from where she was. It sounded more like a question than a statement.

She was skinny. Scary skinny. Of course, he’d seen that when he’d undressed her, but it was even more alarming seeing her in his clothes, seeing how they draped from her frail, bird-like shoulders.

He nodded to the mess around her. “Stay still. I don’t want you cutting your feet on the glass.” Luckily she had the sense to listen as he swept up the glass and pickles, picking up everything around her before mopping.

He didn’t like being close to her, and she clearly didn’t like being close to him either. Good. It meant they would be less likely to step on each other’s toes.

Bucky was already very aware that she was going to have to stay until the snow let up enough for her to leave.

“I’m assuming you’re hungry?” He said as he put the mop away. “You can have food. I’m not going to starve you after rescuing you.”

She nodded, her stomach grumbling. “Yes. Hungry…”

Pointing to the fridge, he leaned back against the kitchen island. “You can get whatever you want.” He watched curiously as she reached into the door and grabbed the container of cottage cheese. “Did you want some warm food?”

“This is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

She was weird. But he couldn’t really judge considering the fact that he had no idea who she was or where she had come from.

Maybe she was a Russian spy or something.

No, that’s stupid, he reminded himself. Your military days are over. No one is looking for you anymore.

He showed her to one of the guest rooms once she finished eating the entire container of cottage cheese, eyeing her in case she vomited. He had no idea how the hell she did that. He liked cottage cheese as much as the next person, but still.

“Um… There’s a shower through there. And I can… get you some more clothes and stuff,” he said softly. He stayed far away, out of her reach, and he noticed her doing the same.

She nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she looked around. “Okay. Thank you.”

“I’ll let you… get to it then,” he said awkwardly. A frown settled across his face as he watched Alpine jump up onto the bed as the girl looked into the bathroom. “Traitor.”

“Can you show me how the shower works?” She asked, poking her head back out. “And… What are the… shower rules here?”

A wave of confusion spread over him. Shower rules? “Uh… Just… let me know if you’re gonna shower soon so I know not to use all the hot water?”

“That’s it?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Oh. Okay.” She glanced over at Alpine, who was lying on her bed. “Are you… Are you showering soon?”

Bucky’s head tilted to the side, his brows furrowed. His dark hair was still wet, and he was still in his briefs.

The girl nodded, letting out a weak laugh as her face flushed. “Right. Sorry.” She pointed to the bathroom. “The… shower?”

“Right!” He slipped past her into the bathroom, making sure he didn’t touch her, before showing her how to work the knob and change the temperature. “There we go… Uh… Have a good shower. And I’m James… by the way…” He let out a huff of air as he stood there with his hands on his hips. “Right, um…” He felt a bit awkward as he left quickly then.

I waited until after James had left to lock the bedroom door, swallowing as I shoved the desk chair under the handle.

There was a low whine, and I turned to see the cloud dog still on the bed. I had thought it had left with him. “Hi. I thought you left.” I reached out and scratched behind its ear, the fur soft under my fingers.

After taking a few minutes to just pet the puppy, I headed to the bathroom where the shower was still running, the mirror fogged up.

It had been so long since I’d had a hot shower.

After locking the bathroom door, I stripped off the clothes I’d been given and folded them nicely, laying them on the counter. I could see the scrapes along my hips and cursed, wiping off the mirror so I could attempt to see them better. I was covered in bruises, and the scrapes were clearly fresh.

But I had no idea what James thought of them or where he thought I got them. Fuck.

I’d have to come up with some kind of excuse unless I was ready to tell him just where I’d come from.

Which just felt like it’d be so much work. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

I didn’t come out of my room for the rest of the night. It was the first time I’d ever been truly alone in years.

Even when He was gone, I was never truly alone. Not when cameras captured every square inch of the basement.

When I crawled into bed, the cloud dog curled up against me and rested its head on my back.

I slept better than I had in years. Even if I did end up vomiting up the cottage cheese.

Bucky was still confused by the girl three weeks later. The snow hadn’t let up, which he was kinda upset about because she’d eaten one of the two containers of cottage cheese her first night.

He liked his cottage cheese. And she ate it.

Which, okay. He had been able to tell she was hungry and she clearly needed the food more than he did, but still. She couldn’t have chosen something else?

Now they were having to ration the cottage cheese. They had about half a cup left and they were both waiting for the other one to finish it off.

He was about ready to just tell her to take it.

He also didn’t understand how she’d stolen his dog from him. Alpine had transferred her love and loyalty over to the strange girl within thirty seconds of meeting her, and it appeared that there would be no changing that anytime soon. The dog was always at her side and wouldn’t even go outside to use the bathroom unless she sat on the porch, bundled in one of Bucky’s coats and wrapped in a blanket, and watched her. Al didn’t even sleep with Bucky anymore. She slept with the girl, her head on her back as if she was ensuring that she was still breathing.

On one hand, it was absolutely precious.

On the other, Bucky had lost his cuddle buddy.

But they gave each other a wide berth. They never touched, which he was grateful for. He didn’t… like touch. And he got the implication that she didn’t either.

“You know, you living here kinda reminds me of the 2020 pandemic,” he said nonchalantly as they sat in the living room watching tv. He was on the recliner, and she was curled up on the couch with Alpine in her lap.

Her head tilted to the side as she tore her attention from the movie playing on the tv. “The what?”

Bucky blinked. And then he blinked again. “The… The 2020 pandemic? The pandemic three years ago?” He said slowly, his brows furrowed. “Covid-19? Everyone had to wear masks? America was literally a cesspool of selfish assholes who were so stupid they believed Trump?”

“Trump… Isn’t he that celebrity show host? He was on Home Alone? The Lost in New York one?” She asked.

He was going crazy. He was sure of it.

“What?” She asked, sitting up a little straighter as she crossed her legs applesauce style, causing Alpine to whine before settling back down in her lap. “Did I say something wrong?”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Donald Trump became president in the 2016 election. Then Biden won in 2020.”

Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

“How did you not know?” He asked.

She shrugged, wrapping her arms around Alpine. “I… haven’t watched the news… in a while…”

The man could understand that, but the whole ‘not watched the news’ in a bit really only worked when it came to things like… like a celebrity doing something stupid or a law being passed. Two whole presidential elections? That was… That was Amish levels of ignorance. Even if she didn’t watch tv, there were billboards and signs and merchandise like those stupid Make America Great Again hats.

As if America had ever been great. And he had a double right to say that, since he’d been a stupid eighteen year old kid that the military had preyed on, getting him to join up and head overseas when America had no reason to be there.

He’d lost his arm because of it.

“How long has it been since you watched the news?” He questioned, his heart racing. He had a bad feeling about it. A really, really bad feeling that settled in his gut.

She buried her face in Alpine’s fur, her shoulders rising and falling as she huffed.

She’d put on some weight since getting there, thankfully. He’d been making sure she got all her protein and started her on vitamins supplements he had.

“Eleven years…”

He paused, blinking slowly. “Eleven years? What the hell do you mean ‘eleven years?’” He took a moment when he saw the way she flinched away from him. He’d figured out pretty quick that she couldn’t handle any raising of the voice. She’d shut down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But… I still don’t know anything about you except your name. Not even your last name. I don’t know where you came from. I still don’t know how the hell you ended up in my front lawn, half frozen to death. I…” He sighed. “What happened?”

She was quiet for so long that he was sure she wasn’t going to reply. He started to get ready to stand up, letting out a huff.

“I was thirteen,” I said quietly, my voice barely audible. Alpine’s fur was so soft in my fingers and against my cheek. It kept me grounded, kept me tied down to the Earth so I didn’t float away in the cloudy memories that covered the sky in my head.

Bucky was watching me closely, clearly surprised that I’d actually spoken.

My throat felt so dry. “Um… It was a few months after my birthday… And I had just gotten a new phone. It was… It was one of those sliding phones with a full keyboard? It had a touch screen, and it was cherry red.” I couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh as I remembered that stupid phone. I’d been utterly obsessed with it, like any thirteen year old would be. “I was in eighth grade and even though most people I went to school with already had an iPhone, that phone was the coolest thing ever.”

He was watching me in a way that was so intense, so focused. I hadn’t ever had someone look at me like that. Like he was actually listening.

“And, uh… I used to walk to the river in the woods by my house,” I said, my voice growing soft again. “I would go and sit and read on nice days… I didn’t really have… friends. I was a bit of a loner, and new. We’d just moved there that April.” My heart ached. I missed that river. I missed my parents. More than anything. “There was a man that I’d see sometimes at the river fishing…”

Bucky’s breath audibly hitched, and I could see his hands gripping his knees tightly.

“I was lonely,” I said, my voice cracking as I clutched onto Alpine that much tighter. The puppy let out a whine as my eyes water. “I didn’t have any friends yet. I was an o-only child… So, yeah, I’d talk t-to him. I didn’t think it was wrong. I f-figured if he was going to do something, he would’ve done it the f-first eighty times I s-saw him.”

“He took you, didn’t he?” He asked quietly, his voice gravelly.

Avoiding his eyes, I gave a short nod. “Yeah.”

He stood up, his jaw set as he reached for his phone. “We have to call the police. If you were being held in a house on this mountain, then that means whoever took you lives close enough for you to have gotten here in a snowstorm.”

“NO!” I said as I scrambled up. Alpine flopped to the side with a bark as she watched me scramble to knock his cell phone out of his hand. “No cops!” I breathed out, eyes feral.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice soothing as he held up his hands in surrender. “Okay. No cops. I won’t call the cops…”

I could see the confusion on his face, but a wave of relief washed over me as he agreed to not call the cops without asking too many questions. I’d already shared so much.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked, casually switching the subject as he sat back down. He didn’t even grab his phone.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” I said as I took my seat again, swallowing thickly. “Can we watch that one you were telling me about?” I asked as Alpine licked my face before settling in my lap once again. “The… The one about the Day of the Dead?”

An easy smile spread across his lips. “Coco? Yeah. We can watch whatever you want.”

There was a shift in the air after she told Bucky about where she’d come from. They still kept a generally wide berth, but… they were closer. He was definitely in no hurry for her to leave. Not when he could keep her safe in his cabin.

He felt a wave of protectiveness every time he thought of her. He had someone to take care of now. Other than Alpine and Steve when they were kids, he’d never had that. Even Rebecca had been so independent growing up.

He liked having someone to protect, to take care of. He liked checking in on her when he woke up in the morning and when he went to bed.

Which he’d started doing once she’d stopped locking her door at night.

Bucky liked preparing her breakfast and coffee for her in the morning, slowly helping her increase her food intake without hurting her tummy. He liked checking in on her and making her laugh with his stupid jokes.

He liked… her. She was easily the prettiest gal he’d seen, even if it was unassuming at first.

But he wasn’t a creep like the man who took her, whoever he was. He wasn’t going to pressure her into being with him just because he was providing her shelter and food.

He wouldn’t use her like that.

And besides, it wasn’t as though she would want him. She had just turned twenty-four that year, and he was forty-one. There was a good seventeen year age gap, and it felt even wider once he’d realized that her education had effectively stopped at thirteen years old.

Of course, he’d started to remedy that. He’d found some kind of online learning platform that he’d remembered from the pandemic. Parents had started the free service in order to make sure that kids were still getting their education as schools shut down and they were pushed into Zoom classes in the autumn of 2020, after America failed and sent them back to school.

She was a lot smarter than she realized, and he made sure to tell her as often as possible.

They had a camaraderie that he hadn’t ever expected to find after he’d pushed Steve away.

Steve had been lucky. He’d been good enough at drawing that he’d gotten a full ride to art school. He didn’t have to enlist in order to have a future.

It wasn’t that Bucky was bitter about that. Steve deserved it. And now Bucky’s job was taking pictures of the mountains he lived on, and he got paid so much that he really only had to work a few months a year.

“You always talk about Steve,” she said softly one night as they ate dinner in the living room, as per their routine. “Do you still talk to him?”

“Uh… No,” he said quietly. “Lately I’ve been thinking about reaching out, though… I miss him.”

Her head tilted to the side as she looked at him, her spoon halfway to her mouth. He’d made chicken tortilla soup, since that had apparently become her favorite. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking…”

Bucky smiled weakly down at his own half empty bowl. “Well…” His spoon clinked against the side. “It was hard after I came home… from overseas… I’d lost my arm… I wasn’t the same guy I was…” He took a deep breath. “I was angry… at everything… and I took it out on him, even when it wasn’t his fault… And then one day I just packed up and left. Found my way here. I bought this place with the money I had and fixed it up… It was a real dump. Basically foreclosed. But I spent an entire summer fixing it. Had to get it done before the first snow. And it also got me to figure out how to use my prosthetic. It’s some… fancy experimental thing.”

There was a flicker of the lights, and then nothing. It went completely dark. The heater stopped, the clock on the top of the stove went off.

“Bucky?” She whimpered, the fear evident in her voice.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here,” he said as he used his phone flashlight to illuminate the situation a little bit. “I’m gonna find some flashlights, okay? You stay right there with Alpine.”

She nodded, setting her bowl to the side and wrapping her arms around the puppy. “Okay… H-Hurry back.”

Oh, he definitely would. He didn’t wanna leave his bear cub alone for too long.

He found two flashlights in the basement before coming back. “Okay, let’s get all the blankets and stuff together,” he said as he handed her one of them. “It’s gonna get cold real quick without the heating working.” There was no way he was gonna be able to get out to look at the generator with how heavy the snow was falling.

They piled all the blankets up on his bed before she crawled under the mountain of them, Alpine curling up next to her like always.

She watched as Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of his back. She could practically see the steam coming from his ears from how much he was overthinking. “You can take your arm off, you know,” she said quietly, sitting up on her elbows. “I’m… I’m not gonna think it’s weird.”

Bucky let out a weak laugh. “You sure, bear cub?” He asked, his voice wavering. “I don’t want to freak you out…”

“Something that’s a part of you could never be bad,” she said quietly.

His heart stuttered inside his chest. He didn’t know what to say in reply. He’d never had someone say something like that. His hand was shaking as he reached up and undid his prosthetic. It was a whole thing he went through every night and every morning, since it was attached to his nerves. He hissed as it finally came off, setting it in the open case on the ground as he rolled his shoulders a few times to get the tension out.

“See?” She said as she watched him, her eyes running over his back muscles and the scars that covered his shoulder. “There’s nothing bad about you.”

Bucky slowly crawled under the blankets, staying on the other side of the bed. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“You gonna stay over there all night?’

He blinked, and then he blinked again, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I… What?”

She was still sitting up on her elbows, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her eyes were flickering between the blankets and him. “You don’t have to stay over there… I’m not… gonna break if we cuddle, you know…”

Bucky’s heart stopped inside his chest as his mind went blank. He suddenly wasn’t thinking anymore about how he might hurt her. She wanted him. Or at least… wanted him to cuddle with her.

Which he was more than happy to comply.

I scooted over a little closer to Bucky when I realized he was frozen staring at me. He seemed to be in shock over the fact that I wanted to cuddle.

“Jamie?” I said softly, my fingers grabbing onto his arm and tugging him closer. “Please?”

I watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded.

“I mean… You don’t have to,” I added quickly, feeling a flash of anxiety. What if I had imagined everything? The flirting? The calling me bear cub? “Not if… Not if you don’t want to.”

Maybe my emotional growth was just as stunted as my educational growth.

But then moved closer to the center of the bed, his strong arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me close. So close that I was lying on top of his chest. He was so nice and warm.

And so strong. He wasn’t like one of those guys in Hollywood or the bodybuilders that were all dehydrated in order to look like they had a twenty pack of abs or something. He was the real kind of strong.

It was sexy as hell.

And it had been so long since I’d had a gentle touch… Or had someone hold me just for the sake of holding me.

I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed it until Bucky was holding me close, his lips pressing to my forehead.

“James? If you don’t mind me asking… How did you lose your arm?”

I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he took in my question.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I… I want to,” he insisted as he brought me that much closer. His chin rested on top of my head. “I was on break… And these little local kids loved playing hopscotch with us. We’d draw out the hopscotch on the ground and we would use a little rock and all that… Then one day, there was a truck out by the road. One of ours. We didn’t think anything of it even though it wasn’t where it was supposed to be. We figured that out later.” He pressed his lips to my head. He was trembling, even if he was trying to hide it. “We were searching for a good rock to use… and when I got close to grab a rock under the wheel… someone set off a bomb. Blew my arm clean off. It was all in… all in slow motion.” Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “I’d rather it be me then one of those little kids though.”

I sighed, squeezing him tight. “You’re a good man, James.” He clearly didn’t wanna think about it anymore, so I quickly changed the subject. “Have you ever had someone braid your hair?” I asked as I reached up, running my fingers through his long hair.

“Can’t say I have,” he said, a chuckle reverberating through his chest. “Why? You wanna braid my hair for me, bear cub?”

I hummed, twirling a strand of his hair around my fingers. “Mm… I think it’d look real pretty braided…”

“Pretty? You calling me pretty?” He snorted.

“Mmhm.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause you’re pretty.”

By the blush on his cheeks, I could tell that he hadn’t ever been called pretty again.

And I knew I’d have to start calling him pretty a lot more.

Bucky had a shy smile on his face as he squeezed me closer to him, burying his face in my hair. “You’re prettier, bear cub.” He kissed my forehead again, humming. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

It was another two months before there was a break in the snow long enough for them to be able to head to town for more groceries. Plus, they needed to stop and get her some clothing that actually fit her.

Not that Bucky didn’t mind her wearing his clothes. He liked it a lot, actually. His little bear cub in his sweaters and such.

But she did want some pants that fit her proper and some underwear, at least.

And she was excited, but clearly anxious. “Come on, Alpine,” she said happily as they ran out to the truck, Bucky following quickly behind.

“You’re adorable,” he said softly as he climbed in the driver’s seat.

“Shut it,” she said, covering her face in Alpine’s white fur.

He was falling for her. Hard. Even after the electric came back on, they hadn’t stopped staying in the same bed. It just felt natural. They hadn’t done anything more than cuddle, but he wasn’t exactly in a rush. Bucky was very happily letting her take the reins when it came to how quick they moved.

But he did wanna talk to her about being together officially at some point.

The one thing he was really worried about was the fact that she still wouldn’t let him call the police.

He just wanted to find the man who had hurt her and wring his neck with his bare hands.

Or at least have him thrown in jail. At the very least.

The first thing they did was get her some clothes and shoes so she could change into them, even though he was pleased to note that she did keep on his sweater.

She looked really, really good in green.

Like, really good.

“We need at least two containers of cottage cheese,” she said as she grabbed them, grinning.

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, coming up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He couldn’t help it. He loved touching her. Preferred to have at least one hand on her at all times. “Better make that three containers, bear cub. From what I remember, someone ate an entire container in one sitting and then promptly threw all of it up.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Her cheeks flushed as she nuzzled into him. “And I only have two hands, James.”

A slow smirk spread over his lips as he looked at her pretty face. He loved getting her all flustered. “I didn’t say you had to grab it all at once.” As if to make a point, he reached over and grabbed a third container, moving to set it in the cart.

It was when he had turned his head away for less than thirty seconds that he heard the sound of plastic hitting the ground, and saw cottage cheese splattered across the marble tiles.

“Bear cub?” He said in confusion as he looked around. But she’d disappeared. His brows furrowed as his eyes met Brock Rumlow’s, who was glowering at him for some fucking reason. His eyes flickered down to his outfit, his heart stopping inside his chest when he saw the badge.

Brock Rumlow was a police officer.

His bear cub hated cops and refused to let him call the cops.

She’d disappeared when she saw him.

Fuck.

He didn’t like the thoughts that were running in his head.

Bucky had to find her before Brock did.

He didn’t even attempt to act nonchalant as he ran through the store, leaving the cart there. His heart was absolutely racing.

Alpine wasn’t sitting outside the front door where they’d left her.

He rushed to the parking lot, breathing out a sigh of relief when he found her and Alpine in the truck, huddled down on the floor. “Oh, thank fuck,” he breathed out as he got in the driver’s seat. He didn’t even buckle before he was peeling out of the parking lot. “He’s not gonna touch you, baby. I promise.”

She looked up at him with glassy eyes, tears staining down her soft cheeks. “H-He… He’s the one who…”

“I know,” he said quietly as he reached over to take her hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing. He was flying up the mountain as fast as he could without spinning out, heading for the cabin. “I know that it’s him. But he’s not going to touch you, okay? I’m not gonna let him. I’m gonna protect you.” He handed her his phone out of his pocket. “Bear cub, can you go to my contacts and call Sam? Tell him we need him as soon as possible.”

She nodded, her hands trembling as she found the name and called. “H-Hello? This is Bucky’s friend and w-we need someone at Bucky’s immediately. Please.”

When they got back to the cabin, he rushed her inside. “Go upstairs to our bedroom, lock the door, and then go to the bathroom and lock the door,” he said. “Take the handgun in my bedside table with you.”

“J-Jamie, I’m scared,” she whimpered, her hands shaking.

He rushed forward, his hands holding her face as he pulled her into a kiss. “It’s all gonna be okay. But don’t come out for anyone that isn’t me, alright?” He said softly, caressing her cheeks. “Take Alpine with you.”

She nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief as she went.

He grabbed the gun he had hidden in the living room, quickly loading it. He knew that Rumlow would be coming up after them, especially if he was the one who had kept his precious girl kidnapped for over a decade.

He had a lot to lose.

But so did Bucky. He’d just gotten his girl, and he wasn’t losing her anytime soon.

Bucky Barnes would not be losing the one person that made him feel human again.

And if it came down to it, and he died protecting her, he’d be okay with that as long as she was safe. He’d just have to bring down Brock with him.

He stiffened as he heard the car pull into the drive with a roar and then the slamming of the door. He knew it wasn’t Sam. It would take him longer than that to get up there considering when they’d called.

Brock didn’t even bother knocking. He shot through the lock and threw the door open.

It was all a blur. Bucky shot at him and managed to catch him in the thigh, but Brock just kept coming. He was pretty sure he had a bulletproof vest on, too.

“So this is where the little brat’s been?” Brock snarled, glaring as he pointed the gun at him. “I figured she’d died out in the snow. Would’ve been better if she had.”

Bucky wasn’t going to dignify it with a response. He knew Brock was just trying to rile him up to get him to fuck up. And he couldn’t let that happen when his girl’s life was on the line.

What he did do was aim at Brock’s hand and get him to drop the gun before he rushed forward and pinned him to the ground to wait for Sam. He shoved him to the ground, glaring at him harshly. “You will never touch her again,” he hissed, emphasizing each word as his hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed threateningly. “And I’d fucking kill you now, but you don’t deserve a quick death.” He spit in his face. “I want you to get put in prison for life, and I want to hear about how your ass is getting kicked everyday for kidnapping and raping a little girl, and holding her hostage for over a decade. I’m gonna personally make sure you never see the light of day again.”

As soon as the door opened and Sam came in with two other officers, he lifted his hands in surrender, getting off him once he knew that Brock wouldn’t be able to get out.

Before anyone could stop to question him, he ran upstairs. “BABY?” He called out as he knocked on the bedroom door.

It took less than thirty seconds for his girl to open the door and throw herself into his arms, Alpine barking excitedly behind her.

“Hey, Alpine,” he said with a laugh as he scooped her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as she buried her face in his neck. “Did you protect your mama? Yeah?”

She let out a weak laugh as she nuzzled in further. “Are you okay?” She asked, her voice cracking as she pulled back to look at him, holding his face as she checked him for injuries.

“Bear cub, he didn’t even touch me,” he said softly, holding her close. “He’s in cuffs now, being put in the back of a cop car to go to prison…” He kissed her forehead. “He can’t ever get near you again. They’re gonna search his place and it’ll all be over. You never have to go back there ever again.”

I jerked awake, letting out a broken scream. Sweat dripped down my back, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Alpine let out a worried whine from where she laid on my feet, keeping them toasty.

“Hey… Hey, I’m here,” Bucky whispered sleepily as he brought me into his chest with his one arm. His prosthetic had been taken off earlier. “I’ve got you, bear cub… I’m right here…”

I crumbled into tears as I was pulled onto his lap, my nose brushing against his neck. “J-Jamie…”

“Was it the dream again?”

I nodded, my hands grasping at him to hold him close. “I wa-was back in that basement… W-With Him.”

He had gotten to see the basement first hand. The concrete walls. The dirty mattress that rested on the ground without any sheets. The bugs and the rats that I had shared that space with. The broken window that Brock had covered with a trash bag. The cameras.

He’d seen me through the whole trial.

It didn’t take long for Brock to be put on trial and found guilty. Hell, the jury only deliberated for an hour before coming back and giving their verdict.

With all the evidence from his cabin and his own poor defense, I didn’t even have to testify, which was a relief.

The piece of shit actually thought he’d get off easy. But he got fifty years, and considering he was already over forty, it wasn’t likely that he’d ever get to leave prison again.

There was a bit of… question about what would happen to me after. Where I would go.

My parents came to see me at Bucky’s, and they started talking about me going home with them and how they still had my room all set up.

But I just couldn’t leave Bucky and Alpine. Not after everything.

And as much as I knew that me being taken wasn’t their fault, I didn’t feel safe with them like I did with him.

I thought Bucky was going to cry when I said that I wanted to stay with him. He’d rushed to reassure them that he was going to take care of me and he was already working on helping me get my GED.

They seemed to like him, which was good.

And yeah. The nightmares still came back sometimes. I would always be haunted, even with my therapists’ help.

“I’ve got you… He’s never gonna touch you again. You’re safe,” Bucky whispered as he kissed my cheek. He pulled back, his hand cupping my face. “I love you. And I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again. And you know Alpine won’t.”

“I know,” I said softly as I rested my head against his chest as he laid us down again. “I love you, too.”

No, the nightmares didn’t go away. But that didn’t matter when I had Bucky.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 3 years

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"I always just rode the waves,” Rebecca Ferguson says with a shrug. The comment hangs in the air, as if the Anglo-Swedish 37-year-old is only now processing that a combination of currents and tides has led her not just to an acting career but to the brink of big-screen stardom.

“I’ve never been ambitious,” she says. “I’ve always thought that that was a bad thing.” She’s seen others in the industry consumed by constant striving and asked herself why she hasn’t hungered for fame since childhood, slept in cars outside castings, barged into directors’ offices or thrown herself in the path of a producer. “But should I not be burning for this? Out meeting people and networking for the next job?” says Ferguson, who has chosen the sort of quiet, private life outside the big city that so many actors claim to crave. “My life just took another turn. But I’ve always thought: Am I where I should be?”

At the moment, on this late July day, Ferguson is slumped in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz sedan, crawling through rush-hour traffic on the M4 out of London. She is capping off a hectic week during a particularly busy period. Most immediately, she’s coming from a table read for Wool, the Apple TV+ adaptation of Hugh Howey’s bestselling postapocalyptic trilogy. Ferguson is both the star and, for the first time, an executive producer. “I’m sitting in all the different rooms, listening and learning like the students,” she says. She’s filming Mission: Impossible 7, her third tour of duty in the long-running series that first brought her widespread recognition. She’s also promoting the film Reminiscence, the sci-fi noir written and directed by Westworld co-creator Lisa Joy in which Ferguson stars opposite Hugh Jackman. And now she is starting a press push and festival prep for her role as Lady Jessica ahead of the much-delayed release of Dune (in theaters October 22), director Denis Villeneuve’s reimagining of Frank Herbert’s novel. “After this film, I think everyone will see what I see in her,” the filmmaker says. “She has a beautiful, regal, aristocratic presence, elegance. But that was not the main thing: The most important thing for me was that depth.”

After tracing a long, meandering path, Ferguson has landed in a rare and rarified position: ascendant in her late 30s (still an anomaly for women in the film industry) and sought after by some of the biggest names in the business. “When you meet Rebecca, you just see it. She’s very open, candid, collaborative, hardworking, funny—and not pretentious,” says Tom Cruise, who handpicked Ferguson to star opposite him in the Mission: Impossiblefilms, which are known for their demanding shoots. “She just rose to the occasion every single time.”

In February 2020, when the pandemic began, Ferguson left Venice, where she’d been shooting Mission: Impossible 7, and hunkered down with her husband, their 3-year-old daughter and Ferguson’s 14-year-old son from a previous relationship at their farm in Sweden. After four months, Ferguson returned to the M:I set and basically hasn’t stopped working since.

Dune has sat idle for far longer. By the time the movie premieres, more than two years will have passed since it wrapped. Ferguson recently asked to screen the film again: “I miss it,” she says. She ended up bringing along her Mission: Impossible co-star Simon Pegg. After the credits rolled, Pegg broke into a smile and wrapped her in a congratulatory bear hug. “That’s all I needed,” she says.

Despite being a sci-fi epic based on a novel from 1965, Dune feels “very timely,” Ferguson says, pointing to its handling of environmental issues, religious zealotry, colonialism and Indigenous rights. The plot of the film, which cost an estimated $165 million, centers on occupying powers battling for the right to exploit a people and their planet, named Arrakis, for melange (or spice)—the most valuable commodity in Herbert’s fictional universe, a substance that provides transcendental thought, extends life and enables instantaneous interstellar travel. “Spice,” Ferguson says, “is equally about the poppy and oil fields.”

Ferguson’s Lady Jessica is a member of the Bene Gesserit, a powerful secretive sisterhood with superhuman mental abilities. She defies her order by giving birth to a son, Paul (played by Timothée Chalamet), who may be a messianic figure. “She basically just f—s up the entire universe by having a son out of love,” says Ferguson. In her hands, Jessica is equal parts caring parent, protector and pedagogue. Among the skills she wields and teaches Paul is “the Voice”—a modulated tone that allows the speaker to control others.

The movie was shot in Norway, Hungary, Jordan and Abu Dhabi, whose desert landscape stood in for Arrakis. Filming there was particularly arduous, as temperatures exceeded 120 degrees Fahrenheit, limiting the shoot window to only an hour and a half each day at 5 a.m. and again at dusk. “We were running across the sand in our steel suits being chased by nonexistent but humongous worms,” Ferguson recalls, referring to the sand-beasts later rendered in CGI. “To be honest, it was one of the best moments ever. It was the most beautiful location I’ve ever seen.”

Back in London, Ferguson is approaching home. She leaves the following day for a small town on the coast of England, where she plans to spend her first vacation in two years and to do some surfing. “Let’s hope it’s good weather,” she says. “If not, I’ll surf in the rain.” Not that she’s the sort to paddle out into storm swells. “I think I’ve managed to stand on a board once in my entire life,” she says. “But it was quite a high. Complete surrender to the waves and total control all at once.”

Born Rebecca Louisa Ferguson Sundström to an English mother and Swedish father, Ferguson grew up bilingual in Stockholm. She immersed herself in dance from a young age, enjoying ballet, jazz, street funk and tango. Despite being shy and prone to blushing and breaking out when forced to speak publicly, Ferguson found she was at ease in front of the camera. She dabbled in modeling and then, at 15, attended a TV casting call at her mother’s urging. Ferguson ended up getting the lead role in Nya Tider (New Times), a soap opera that became wildly popular, splashing Ferguson’s face into Swedish homes five times a week.

When her role ended about two years later, Ferguson was adrift. She had no formal acting training to fall back on, no clear sense of how to steer a career and no major connections to the industry. She had a short run on another soap and appeared in a slasher flick and a couple of independent shorts, then…nothing. “I was famous in Sweden, but I didn’t really have an income anymore,” she says. “So I went and I worked in whatever job I could get.” That meant stints at a daycare center and as a nanny, in a jewelry shop and a shoe store, as well as teaching tango, cleaning hotel rooms and waitressing at a Korean restaurant. She eventually landed in a small coastal town named Simrishamn, where she lived with her then-partner and their toddler son, content to be a where-are-they-now celebrity.

When fame again came calling, Ferguson ran away. She was at the flea market when she recognized the acclaimed Swedish director Richard Hobert, and he saw her. As he shouted her name, Ferguson grabbed her son, who lost his shoes and sausage, and fled. “I panicked,” she says. “I don’t know why.” When Hobert eventually caught up to her, Ferguson tried to act nonchalant as he proceeded to tell her he’d admired her work and pitched her on the lead role in his next movie: “I’ve written this role, and I think I have written it for you. Do you want to read the script?”

Her work in Hobert’s A One-Way Trip to Antibes earned her a Rising Star nomination at the Stockholm International Film Festival. She quickly got an agent in Scandinavia, then one in Britain. On her first trip to take meetings in London, she read for the lead in The White Queen, the BBC adaptation of Philippa Gregory’s historical novels about the women behind the Wars of the Roses. Ferguson got the part, and her portrayal of Elizabeth Woodville, queen consort of England, earned her a Golden Globe nomination and the admiration of at least one Hollywood heavyweight.

Ferguson was in the Moroccan desert filming the Lifetime biblical miniseries The Red Tentwhen the assistant director whisked her off her camel. “We’re going to have to pause shooting,” he said as he asked her to dismount. “Tom Cruise wants to meet you for Mission: Impossible. We’re going to fly you off today.”

Cruise had seen Ferguson’s work in The White Queen and her audition tape and couldn’t believe she wasn’t already a major star. “What? Where has this woman been?” Cruise recalls exclaiming to his new Mission: Impossible director Christopher McQuarrie. “She’s incredibly skilled,” Cruise says, “very charismatic, very expressive. As you can tell, the camera loves her.” Ferguson landed a multi-picture deal to star opposite Cruise in the multibillion-dollar franchise. He and McQuarrie built out the role of Ilsa Faust for Ferguson, creating the anti-Bond girl, an equal to Cruise’s Ethan Hunt. “We could just see the impact she could have,” he says. “She’s a dancer. She has great control of her body, of her movements. She has the same ability to move through emotions effortlessly.”

Ferguson threw herself into the films and quickly found a shorthand with the cast and crew. “There was a dynamic that worked very well with all of us,” she says. “One of the things I absolutely love is doing all the stunts.” That physicality has given her a reputation as an action-minded actor. “It doesn’t matter that I’ve done 20 other films where I don’t kick ass,” Ferguson says. “Mission comes with such an enormous following. That was what made my career.”

Ferguson’s M: I movies bracket a number of films in which she played opposite marquee names: Florence Foster Jenkins, with Meryl Streep and Hugh Grant; The Girl on the Train, with Emily Blunt; The Greatest Showman, with Hugh Jackman and Michelle Williams; Life, with Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Reynolds; Men in Black: International, with Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson; The Snowman, with Michael Fassbender; Doctor Sleep, with Ewan McGregor. And now Dune, opposite Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem, Zendaya and Chalamet, whom she calls “one of the best actors, if not the best actor of his generation—of this time.” She was similarly impressed by Zendaya, who plays the native Fremen warrior Chani. “She’s quite raw and naughty and fun,” says Ferguson. “She has an enormous f— off attitude.”

When Ferguson first spoke to Villeneuve about appearing in the movie, “he started telling me about this woman who was a protector, and a mother, and a lover, and a concubine,” she recalls. “I was like, ‘I’m sorry. You want me to play a queen and a bodyguard? And you want me to kick ass and walk regally?’ I was like, ‘Denis, why would I want to do that? That’s the last thing I want to do.’ ”

After the call, Ferguson says, “I went downstairs to my hubby and said, Oh, my God, he’s amazing, but I’m not going to get the job. I just criticized the character.” Ferguson worried she was being cast as a stereotypical “strong female character,” where “it’s constantly, ‘She looks good, and she can kick.’ That is not what I want to portray.”

Ferguson hasn’t always been able to work with collaborators who’ve given her the space to question or opine. “I’ve been bashed down. I’ve been bullied,” she says, though she opts not to say by whom. That was never a concern with Villeneuve, who welcomed her critique. He and his co-writers had already decided from the start to make women the focus of their screenplay adaptation, and he promptly offered her the part.

“I want Lady Jessica to be at the center, the forefront. For me, she’s the architect of the story,” Villeneuve says. “I needed someone who will convey the mystery and the dark side of the film in a very elegant and profound way. Rebecca was everything I was hoping for. She’s so precise. She brought a beautiful, controlled vulnerability—it becomes very visceral on-screen.”

Ferguson vaguely recalls trying to watch the 1984 version of Dune, directed by David Lynch, in her youth, but she fell asleep. And she had never opened Herbert’s novel until being offered the part in the new adaptation. As she dug into the book, she says, she learned that her character was subservient and far more like a concubine, forced to eat alone in her bedroom, not spoken to and not allowed to speak. Ferguson ended up relying primarily on Villeneuve for her research and prep—his notes and comments, his references and the pages in the book he suggested she focus on. “I would feel ignorant not to have read Frank’s book at all,” Ferguson says, though she admits there are parts of the sprawling novel (which Villeneuve is splitting into two films) she’s only skimmed. “I have to finish it.” That will not happen on her upcoming vacation, however. “Absolutely not,” she says “I am surfing.”

By the way, if you saw, I am snaking on the ground, snaking around my room to get good Wi-Fi—it’s not some dance or yoga thing,” Ferguson says. “You have to do that in this old house.” It’s a week and a half after our first meeting, and Ferguson is at her new home, a more than 500-year-old property southwest of London that has, over the years, been home to numerous English Royals. It’s more spartan than stately now. “Empty except for a rock star,” she says, turning her phone’s camera to reveal a framed duotone poster of Mick Jagger that’s leaning against the wall. “We haven’t even started renovating.

Ferguson has returned from her holiday fortified and with renewed confidence, thanks in part to her success on the surfboard. “I went up nearly every time,” she says cheerfully, “but the waves weren’t very high.” She shrugs. “I was proud. I was up. I rode them, not the other way around.”

After years of going with the flow, Ferguson is eager to replicate that sense of control in her career. She values her role as an executive producer on Wool, she says, “because I am, for the first time, a part of it from the beginning.” She relishes weighing in on every aspect, from casting (the show recently added Tim Robbins) to cinematography to her character—which has not always been easy for her. “Why do I feel it’s difficult to speak up? I still battle with these things,” she says. Alluding to those times she was pushed around in the past, Ferguson says, “I was angry, but it was more me getting off at ‘How can I let that happen? Why am I letting myself react this way?’ And I take it with me to the next thing where I go, ‘OK, how do I stop that from happening?’ ”

She is learning that she can ride on top of waves without giving up her agency or maybe just let them break against her. “I want to feel I can go home and think, That was a hard day or that pissed me off—and that’s OK,” Ferguson says, with a nod and tight smile. “Because I still stood there as Rebecca. I didn’t shift.”

#rebecca ferguson #interview #dune interview #mi7 interview #wool interview #tom cruise #denis villeneuve #mission impossible #dune 2021

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xpeachesncream · 3 years

Text

acquainted | thirteen

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.0k

warnings: cussing/mature language, lots of crying, overthinking, insecurities, questioning feelings/thoughts, your bestfriends are your ride or dies!

notes: happy valentine’s day my loves! 💗

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead@bluesharksandfish@photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1 @thebeebi @brightcolorsoffendme (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

Class comes by quick and you're dreading it. You're dreading it so much you consider skipping out. But, you don't; Simply because you don't want to show that this has defeated you. That Jin has gotten to the best of you. Although right now, you'd probably slap that shit out of him.

You stray clear from any spots you think Jin would find you at, parking at a completely different lot on the opposite end of campus. Jin also isn't in the best of moods, being that his parents came down for an unexpected visit just to give him an earful while getting ready to head to the office to prepare for another business review coming up. Not to add that Grace's mom texted him a very long, unfriendly message last night. He expected it, but he just didn't wanna deal. He sounded like a broken record telling everyone they just didn't work anymore, and that he wasn't going to force himself into something he didn't see himself in.

Yes, he's sorry for the way that he acted. Yes, he fucked up for not doing this the right way. Yes, he fucking gets it. Leave me the hell alone.

After all, all he wanted was you. And it killed him that you hadn't returned his calls, or answered his texts. He just wanted to hear if you were okay. He just wanted to see you and reassure you. Apologize for not owning up to your relationship, because it does matter to him. It's the one thing that truly does.

You walk into campus once your friends have texted that they've arrived. The four of you make your way into the classroom, your head hung low. The rest of the three greeted Jin just for common courtesy, but he knew he wasn't going to hear anything from you. He looked at you, noticed how tired and sad you had looked and his heart instantly broke. He wanted to hug you right then and there, kiss you. Let you know you two would be okay. If that was still something you even wanted.

Jin does his best to get through class, but he's not sure if he could do this anymore if this is how things were going to be. You barely looked at him. You didn't send any of those cute, small smiles his way. You didn't giggle. You didn't do anything besides stare at the paper beneath your hands and write.

When class ends, he waits to see if you'd say anything. You don't, even though you're still one of the last to leave. He watches as you hold onto your books tightly, Ryujin waiting for you to catch up at the door. It's not like you hated him or anything - you could never see yourself hating Seokjin. You could almost say you loved him, you had fallen in love with him. And that's what sucks the most because now what? What do you do with those feelings right now? After everything? God, you wanted him. But there were so many questions racing through your mind, the most important being if you were worth sticking around for. If he would actually be in this with you and stick around.

You and your friends head over to the library to get some work done, but you excuse yourself to buy a cup of hot chocolate and a snack at the campus coffee shop a bit of a walk away. There was a line, surprisingly, but it wasn't too bad and you ultimately decided this was worth waiting in line for. Once you had ordered and gotten your food, you stepped outside to take a sip & enjoy how good it felt to have hot cocoa on a cold evening. You begin to slowly walk back, the walk being a little dark and lonely being most students had already left campus for today.

"Y/N." You hear behind you. You know that voice all too well. You turn behind you to see Jin trying to catch up with you.

"Not doing this here." You say as you try to walk away, but he gently grabs your wrist and turns you around. It hadn't been long but you missed looking at his face this way. You missed his touch. You missed him.

"Can we please just talk for a minute?" He asks softly, letting you go before anyone sees.

"We don't have anything to talk about right now."

"Yes, we do." You shook your head.

"I don't wanna do this right now. Please, I just need some time."

"Y/N, I care about you a lot, you know that right?" You feel your tears welling up because you wanted so badly to just throw yourself on this man right now, and hug him tightly and tell him you love him. But, you just needed your space. You needed to give him space.

"Not now." Is all you say. "Look, we can talk when the time is right. Just not now."

"When is that going to be? I miss you." He says almost at a whisper. "You know it's you."

"Jin—" You say, shaking your head and placing a hand out in front of you before stepping backwards.

"Hey, did you grab what you needed? We have to go." You hear Taehyung say as he grabs your arm. You knew he was just pulling you out of the situation with a lie and honestly, you couldn't thank him enough because you weren't sure how else you could handle Jin right now. Not without breaking down.

"Yeah." Jin stares at both you and Taehyung. "I'm good."

"Cool." Taehyung swings his arm over your shoulder before turning on his heel to walk away with you. "Night Mr. Kim." He throws up the peace sign as he leads you back to the library.

"Thank you." You say, leaning into his body.

"No problem." Taehyung gently caresses your arm as you both walk back to the library. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just not ready to talk to him yet."

"Maybe you should at least hear what he has to say."

"I don't know, Tae." He shrugged.

"Look, things are kind of messy right now, but I have to say, he looks like he's still focused on you throughout this mess. I think that should at least mean something."

"I guess." Is all you can say. Taehyung doesn't say anything else as you approach Jimin and Ryujin. You and your friends stay until the library closes, getting a lot of work done together.

"You sure you don't need any of us to stay with you tonight?" Jimin asks before you all split ways to get to your cars.

"I'll be fine."

He nods silently. "Let us know if you need anything." Ryujin and Taehyung nod reassuringly behind him.

The ride home is quiet, besides the random downpour of rain that begins to fall as you near your apartment building. The rain was soothing to you, and all you wanted was to be in bed, listening to the rain pound against your window. As you start tidying up your apartment and getting ready for bed, your phone starts to vibrate on the bathroom counter.

Seokjin.

After tonight, you're still not sure why he's calling, but you're afraid something might have happened to him in this rain since the call ends, but another one comes through right after.

"Jin."

"Let me come see you. Hear me out, please." His voice slightly cracks. It sounds like he had been crying, or at the very least, trying really hard to keep his emotions in check. You feel terrible, and the last thing you want is for him to do anything irrational in this weather.

"Okay." Is all you say.

"I'll come pick you up in 20 minutes?"

"Sure." And the call ends. You're nervous and you feel your heart beating pretty quickly. You're not sure what to expect, or what to even say at this point. Is it even valid for you to feel upset for what happened? You weren't in Grace's shoes, nor did you end up getting the short end of the stick [besides the fact that Jin wasn't up front about your relationship]. You didn't really have a reason to be this way. However, you weren't sure where to go from here. You loved him, but how could you both just continue on like shit never went down? Like things are all fine and dandy when there's people angry and hurt? It seems like that would be fueling the fire even more. You both may never be able to rest. But part of you really wanted to keep being selfish, and you had no idea what exactly it was about this man that was making you like this. But, you wanted him in every way and it was frustrating. You just wanna tell people to leave you both the fuck alone and let it be.

He wants me, and I want him. So be it. I'm sorry.

You lazily throw on some clothes, hopping into matching grey sweats, grey hoodie and an added layer of a bomber jacket to go over it. He gets there a little earlier than the estimated 20 minutes in a hoodie, jacket and ripped jeans, his hair slightly dampened from the rain, making strands fall messily above his forehead.

God, this is unfair. Jin's duality is fucking crazy.

He simply looks at you before extending out his hand, asking for permission to hold yours before he drives off. You gently intertwine your fingers with his, his cold hands gripping tightly as he caresses the top of your hand with his thumb. The ride is quiet, and you find yourself overlooking the skyview of SF once again. He parks his car in the same spot he parked when he had asked you to come to LA with him, but he sits in his seat looking out quietly.

"What's on your mind?" You softly ask, breaking the silence.

"I miss you." He pauses while he tilts his head to look at you. "It hasn't even been long, but I miss you and I just want to be with you, Y/N."

"Do you really think this is a good idea? Us?" You turn in your position to fully face him. "Look at all the people that are hurt and angry at us. How can we just let it be?"

"I don't care. I really and truly do not care."

"Seokjin." You shake your head. "Don't say that."

"I don't. What else do you want me to say?" He shrugs. "The only person that matters to me is you."

"Your parents—"

"It's my life, they can't do anything about it." He sighs. "Y/N, what's going on?"

"I'm just scared. I— I know it's a little late for this but I'm scared. I don't wanna hurt anyone else, I don't wanna make anyone else upset." The tears began to pool against your bottom lid. "Jungkook—" He sharply turns to look at you once more. "Jungkook came to my house the other day and I felt terrible."

"He's not talking to me."

"See." You begin to cry. "I don't wanna ruin your relationship with him any further. He's your brother."

"He'll be fine."

"And how do you know that? How do you know things will be okay between the both of you? You had such a strong relationship with him. I shouldn't be getting in between."

"Stop." He says, gently wiping your tears from his seat. "He'll need some time but I know we'll be okay. Y/N, please just listen to me. I don't—" He sighs again before he looks down at his jeans. His head continues to hang low as he begins to speak softly, his voice slightly cracking. "I don't want you to throw us away because of everything that happened. That's the one thing I've been terrified about."

"Are you genuinely terrified of losing me, or of being alone?"

"What? How could you ask me that? Of course I'm terrified of losing you." Silence. "I love you, Y/N. I don't think you understand how deep my feelings run for you." You almost gasp at the statement, but you simply look at him. You only questioned how he felt because you were certain you had fallen in love with him. You were certain that you had gone past those boundaries and that you loved Seokjin. But you weren't sure if that was the case for him. He had never said it until this moment, even though he had beat around the bush, telling you how much you meant to him and how much he wanted to be with you. But he had never said he loved you until now. You were beginning to think you were just the excuse - the excuse to get out of a failed engagement. He lifts his head once again, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Please don't tell me I'm the only one who feels this way." You begin to cry a little more, seeing the look on his face when he says what he says.

"I think we should sleep this off." Is what you respond with, even though it's not what you actually want to say. You want to tell him yes, you love him too. Yes, you want to be with him. Yes, fuck everyone else.

But it's not that easy, for whatever reason.

He doesn't object though, he doesn't try and argue. He doesn't try to act all crazy and make you feel a certain way or say a certain thing. He just nods, even though he can't really look at you.

"Just know that I've meant everything that I've said up until this point. I love you so much, Y/N. It's insane how quickly I've fallen for you and what you do to me. I wouldn't want it any other way, and I don't want it if it's not with you." You look out the window, pursing your lips into a fine line to prevent yourself from loudly breaking down next to him. The tears won't stop coming down but you don't want to let him hear you. At this point, he doesn't say anything else as he starts up his car and begins to drive back to your place. His hand is resting on your thigh, gently caressing it up and down as if he knows you were silently crying in your seat. You couldn't get past the events that have transpired the past couple of days, and you just needed a breather.

Some time to be away, some time to be in peace. Some time to sit on your thoughts. Some time to just be.

You can't help but think about what things would be like if you and Jin continued on. You couldn't help it, that's just who you were. You'd imagine his parents looking down on you for messing with both of the siblings to a certain a extent. Jungkook ultimately just hating you for life. Jin's friends probably also questioning you.

The real question was whether or not your feelings for Jin would overcome that fear, that uncertainty, that anxiety. Even though you knew where you stood with him - was this really something you could get over? Was this something you could live on with? Knowing how you and Seokjin had come to be, hurting people along the way just to be selfish and be together.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Jin stops his car in front of your building, leaning over to turn his hazard lights on. The rain is pounding incredibly hard right at this moment, and you're torn between going back upstairs or going back home with Jin.

It's fucking annoying. Your thoughts.

"Come here." He says, gently tugging on your jacket. You turn to face him, the tears still streaming down your cheeks. He clicks his teeth as he wipes your tears away, hating the fact that he's seeing you hurt right now. He couldn't stand it. "You know I'm always gonna be here right? Whenever you're ready." You nod. He leans in to kiss you on the lips, his hand resting behind your head and fingers tangled in your hair. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, keep his eyes locked on you before completely pulling back to let you go.

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" You say, almost at a whisper. He simply nods, watching you grab the door handle and dash into your building. You run upstairs and into your apartment, only to crash against the wall and cry out every emotion you were feeling.

"Y/N?" Jimin calls out softly, popping into your apartment after you had called him to come over. His jacket is soaking wet, and you feel terrible that he probably had to park a bit further from your building due to no guest spots being available at this time of night. He instantly drops his bag to the ground when he finds you curled up on the couch and wraps his arms around you. "What happened?"

"I don't know why this is so fucking difficult for me." You mumble into his chest. Honestly, Jimin knew the answer already. It was obvious that your feelings had gotten deeper than you had expected, you didn't have to tell Jimin that.

What was difficult was the fact that you hadn't been looking for love, nor were you trying to fall in love after Chance had passed. He knew the moment you did find something other than Chance, that's when things would get difficult. You had been longing for someone to touch you, to feel you, to want you, to care and love you, to bring about those feelings Chance once had brought. Seokjin might have been the closest thing to it and you didn't wanna let that go, not after you unexpectedly lost it the first time. No matter how much you tried to fight it off.

"Y/N." He says softly. "I think you fighting this off is just making it worse. You need to start being honest with yourself, no matter what that looks like."

"It's wrong, isn't it?" He shrugs.

"I mean, regardless of how it came about, I think what matters is how you feel about him and what he's starting to mean to you. Especially after all the shit you've been through with Chance's passing." He responds forwardly. "If you love him, then you do. There's really no hiding from it anymore. You both are here now."

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pradaksj · 4 years

Text

7 Rings | 02

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ genre: richboy!taehyung | blackmailer!reader | infiltration au | future smut | angst.

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 9,990+

♛ warnings for this chapter : explicit language, usage of alcohol (legal)

♛ (please read) author’s note: This chapter basically goes back in time to the day in which Y/N finds out about her mother, but instead we now get a glimpse of tae’s life so there is not much y/n in this chapter !! Just to let y’all know so you don’t get confused :)

♛ summary: In desperate need of money, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, garner some money and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em.❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

Friday Morning.

“In today’s news, the Kim family’s multibillion dollar deal has been officially confirmed. Their partnership with Hyundai is estimated to bring in at least seven billion in revenue to Korea’s economy over the next 5 years. Both parties have agreed to terms that will lift…”

Kim Taehyung stared at the coffee shop’s mounted TV as he waited in line to order, feeling as if it was already too early to be stressed out. The weary feeling of 4 hours of sleep was beginning to manifest itself, irritation slowly beginning to take its form. Honestly, it was a feeling he found himself feeling quite often these days. In a few years, the responsibility of a billion dollar empire would be under his hands, something he wasn’t exactly looking forward to. The images of his dad shaking hands with Hyundai’s CEO appearing on the TV, the man was basically hailed a hero. Taehyung’s eyes narrowed at the sight.

One could say his relationship with his father was not only distant but … complicated. As Taehyung grew up watching his dad’s empire become almost unstoppable, it also meant that he was always away from home. Though for the most part, Taehyung didn’t mind. His mother was everything a child could ask for, compassionate, hard-working, and never failing to provide her almost endless unconditional love for the young boy.

When he was younger though, his father seemed like an unattainable hero, an inspiration, and at some point it was a relationship he longed for. He often felt guilty whenever he’d hear kids in his school mention not having a father figure in their lives, either due to tragedy or other unspecified reasons. He was lucky enough to have his father in his life … so then why didn’t it ever feel like it ? Not like he had a right to complain.

Without his father he wouldn’t have grown up in the world of luxuries as he was fortunately able to. You see, there was a reason why Kim Enterprises was plastered all over Seoul (if not all of Korea), and that was because they were the IT company. A multi-conglomerate holding company who owned stakes in almost every major company from South Korea that you could possibly think of. Their rise in power was truly undeniable.

The company had been founded just a couple of years before Taehyung had been born, originally starting off as an insurance company which had done small investments in prospect companies, slowly rising in their investment and stakeholder shares. At least that was the story Taehyung’s father told him growing up, never failing to remind him that he came from nothing, and for that reason Taehyung should be nothing but grateful, stating that because of him he’d never know what it was like to feel the stigma of being poor in his own home and the powerlessness that comes with it. And you see Taehyung had absolutely no problem with that because well… it was true, and there was no denying that. What bothered him though, was that those speeches never seemed to come out of a place of genuinity, but one of animosity. As if to remind Taehyung that without his father he was, is, and would’ve been nothing.

To a certain extent he respected his father, but he didn’t love him. There was no genuine relationship there, and he knows it may sound horrible to say, but Taehyung most definitely had his reasons. But some things were just simply better left unsaid.

“Hello? Next in line,” a voice (an annoyed one at that) interrupted his thoughts, as he failed to realize that the cashier had been calling out for him for who knows how long. Though he didn’t take her harsh attitude to heart, if anything sympathizing with her and what he assumed was a stressful job, and it wasn’t like he was making it any easier by being a slow-poke.

“Welcome to Seoul’s Magnificent Mocha, what can I get for you this morning?” she asked once he had made his way up front to the cashier counter. Taking off his sunglasses, he couldn’t but want to laugh at how quick her facial expression had changed. It was the face that people made when they recognized him. It was amazing what a simple baseball cap and some shades could do, he hadn’t even worn his black face mask this time. “Y-You—” she began to stutter her words, instead slowly pointing at the TV. He gave her a small smile along with a small nod as a way of confirming what she was trying to say.

“That would be me,” he smiled, “Can I get an iced Americano and um a,” he paused trying to remember what Namjoon had wanted, “strawberry iced tea. Both medium please,” he finished off the order clearly sounding very uncertain.

“It’s g-going to b-be um,” the poor girl was so nervous she couldn’t even tell him his total without stuttering, “15,000 Won,” He proceeded in handing her a 50,000 note.

“You can keep the change,” he winked at her before putting his sunglasses back on and politely dismissing himself towards the waiting area, quietly laughing at how quickly she facepalmed herself when he was out of her line of sight.

Taehyung always did have a special charm on people, plus he was good looking, and he knew it. He didn’t have any special talents, nothing he could actually proudly boast about. It would be dense of him not to acknowledge that the only reason he was so famous was because of both his status and looks.

There were many people who swooned over him such as the cashier, but there were also many who believed he was still the same old spoiled brat who was nothing but a troublemaker from four years ago. It didn’t help that gossip blogs were still using the same clips from years ago when he really was nothing but a troublemaker who liked flashing his expensive cars for the paparazzi, and purposely kept a high profile. He had been naive, nothing but an eighteen year old teenager who thought fame was better than anything else in the entire world. Four years later, now at the age of twenty-two, and he had long learned that fame was horrible. But he had changed and that’s all that mattered, right? A complete 180, if you will.

Those people didn’t know him, so what made them think they had the right to judge him? To act as if they’d do things any better if they were in his position. The only Kim Taehyung they ever knew was the one they’d seen through a screen. He remembered the first time his name had made its way on the headline of gossip blogs and the comments that came with it.

[Kim Taehyung, son of Kim Jeong spotted out having a wild night out in Hongdae. Pictures leaked from last night with some steamy footage. Click here for more.]

[+3,623, -59] he better pray he doesn’t catch any STD’s while he’s at it ㅋㅋㅋ wouldn’t be surprised if he already has some

[+3,100, -100] i feel bad for his dad, he expects someone like this to run the fortune he’s worked so hard for??? he’s so young as well…

[+2,547, -57] leave him alone and respect his privacy

[+2,100, -23] ah he’s so cute!! whoever was dancing with him is one lucky lady!

[+1,022, -34] a brat like that doesn’t deserve the things he has

That night had only been the beginning to years of nothing but front covering gossip magazines and having his privacy invaded on a daily basis. People became invested in what he was doing with his personal life, his friends, who he was seeing, what he was wearing, and anything else you could possibly think of. He often wondered why, but he assumed it was the same reason as to why people continue to give someone like Kim Kardashian attention despite claiming to hate her. Because people want a glimpse of a world that isn’t their own, simply fascinated by the rich. That and their obsession for scandal only adds fuel to the fire.

With fame came pressure though, pressure to uphold an image for the family company, one his father fairly cared about these days. Hell, nowadays his dad gave him more attention than he ever did as a child, all because he knew that Taehyung was and is the future for Kim Enterprises. It was his father’s pressure that led to his current relationship with— ah speak of the devil.

[From: Sunhi]

[9:10AM] I know you see my texts.

[9:11AM] why are you ignoring me???

[9:12AM] hello???

“Taehyung! Your Iced Americano and strawberry iced tea is ready!” Taehyung rolled his eyes as he glanced through the several number of text messages, instead locking his phone and going up to grab the drinks.

Sunhi was the granddaughter of Hyundai’s CEO and had long been in the picture as early as Taehyung could remember. The two went to the same middle and high school, a one sided crush on her side forming at some point. It wasn’t until about a year ago after returning, that his father had basically forced him to take her out on a date citing that it was in his words, “good for business”. And well today the “good for business” approach had its results, the confirmation of a multibillion dollar deal.

The media loved the two together, hell, they were even labelled as Seoul's next generation’s power couple. Their names amassing a fortune worth billions behind them, their good looks garnering both of them ambassador deals, all in the meanwhile social media was the backbone of the phenomenon that was their so called “relationship”. Not that Taehyung considered it much of one, in his opinion it had stopped being an actual relationship a long time ago.

It wasn’t that Taehyung hated Sunhi, in fact in the beginning of their relationship he was smitten for her, but it wasn’t long until the spark burned out. “Wasn’t long” meaning a couple of weeks in and she actually turned out to be the real definition of a brat, the actual real-life manifestation of Blair Waldorf. Constant up and downs with her had quickly worn him out, and the constant badgering from the media only made things worse. But that doesn't mean he hated her, in order for him to hate her he’d actually have to care about her, and well in all honesty… he didn’t.

Sometimes he’d ask himself why he was still with her considering the deal had long been confirmed even before today. Taehyung had been free to do what he’d like for a long time, meaning there had never been a need for him to have kept this going for so long, he just did. One must ask, why?

Maybe it was because he knew she was the safest option, the person everyone expected and wanted him to be with. Breaking up with her right now would only further his stress, something he definitely didn’t need more of. Plus she knew him from the surface, and he knew her from the surface, and maybe that was just enough. He didn’t need, or want, anything more than that from her or anyone else for that matter. Sunhi was just enough.

It wasn’t like she was using him for anything, especially considering she already has everything. But by being with her, he was satisfying others, he was becoming the person everyone wanted him to be, the person he always should’ve been.

Hell, who knows, maybe he could truly fall in love with her one day … though in the back of his mind he knew the answer to that.

“Took you long enough,” Namjoon complained as he turned on the ignition of the car. He glanced at the drinks in Taehyung's hands, dramatically sighing at the sight, “and you somehow still ended up ordering the wrong drink for me,” he sighed, grabbing the drink from Taehyung’s hands nonetheless.

“My bad, I had forgotten in the moment…” he shot an apologetic smile towards his newly dyed platinum-haired friend.

Namjoon was the son of another one of Seoul’s elite, but also Taehyung’s right hand man. The two had met during their freshman year of high school, but funnily enough the two originally hated one another. Now looking back at it, Taehyung could admit that the two had acted extremely childish over a girl who’d end up picking neither of them, but that was a story to tell for another day.

Luckily Namjoon seemed to enjoy the drink, no longer complaining about it during the ride to Lotte World Mall. The two needed to go buy some new suits for tonight's event in celebration of the brand new deal between Kim Enterprises and Hyundai. The paparazzi were definitely going to be there and with all eyes on him, Taehyung decided that he might as well look good.

Friday Evening.

By the time Taehyung had returned to his place, he was both drained and exhausted, the idea of taking a nap and ditching the event seeming all too tempting. Namjoon this morning had felt the need to visit almost every high end store he could think of and try on the most useless things including scarves, gloves, and a whole bunch of other things. Basically going back and forth all across the mall whenever he’d regret not buying something.

He carried his bags upstairs to his room, ready to plop onto his bed and take a well deserved nap, but of course as always the universe seemed to work against him.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” he silently cursed to himself, asking himself why he thought it was a good idea to give Sunhi access to his penthouse. “Of course you went shopping without me, and to think I wanted to color coordinate,” she puckered her lips attempting to give him a small kiss on the lips, but before she could Taehyung had turned his cheek causing her to almost entirely miss.

She quickly composed herself acting as if that didn’t just happen, instead beginning to rummage through his bags, complimenting the things he chose while he just laid in bed slowly taking in deep breaths trying not to snap at her for coming unannounced. “So what exactly is that you came here for Sunhi…” he mumbled, failing to hide his annoyance.

She pouted, “Well you weren’t answering my texts, and I wanted to know whether you’d be going tonight…” she began to give him small pecks on his face, hoping that he’d show some kind of affection.

“I am, I am. I’m just really tired right now and in desperate need of a nap,” he responded, ignoring her obvious attempts to initiate things. His eyelids were half way closed, clearly ready to knock out at any second.

“Oh well I’ll just stay—”

“No, no. Just go back home, get ready, and I’ll see you over there okay?” his voice was much harsher this time, turning to face the other direction of his bed which was no longer facing her, a cold gesture on his part.

Sunhi sat there for a moment, feeling a mixture of both anger and disappointment. She wanted to say something, but instead crossed her arms, and let out a huff of air in response. Taking one last look at him before getting up from his bed and walking herself out. The same old feeling of being unwanted creeping into her mind, a feeling she knew all too well.

Friday Night.

By the time he had arrived, Taehyung thought that the paparazzi would’ve grown impatient waiting for him and end up leaving, but as per usual he was completely wrong. If anything, him being late had only caused them to triple in numbers. Those men really had no shame, their camera flashes penetrating through the Mercedes Benz’s tinted windows.

“You let me know when you’re ready Mr. Kim,” his security guard said. Taehyung took a deep breath, fixing his YSL brooch before nodding to him, letting him know that he was ready. He was quickly greeted with a stammering number of questions.

“Where’s Sunhi?”

“Over here! Over here!”

“How’s your night been?”

Taehyung tried to not make any faces, knowing that even the slightest lift of the brow would be taken out of context, and that by tomorrow morning there’d be a whole bunch of rumors trending on Twitter. The only thing was that the paparazzi always knew how to push his buttons whether it was shouting something rude, roughly grabbing at him, and etc.

At this point he just needed a drink to relax and take his mind off of these low life men who had nothing else better to do than to try and make a quick buck off his name.

“Finally! Took you long enough,” he heard, quickly spotting Namjoon the moment he entered the venue, wondering if he had been waiting up front for him the whole time.

“You didn’t have to wait for me you know? And plus it’s not my fault you had me running circles around the mall,” Taehyung said causing Namjoon to scoff in response, “Has he given his speech?” the “he” Taehyung was referring to was his father.

“I honestly don’t know,” Namjoon shrugged, who like Taehyung, never did like these kinds of events as they always had him wanting to knock out halfway through, the only thing he really did appreciate was the food they served.

The two walked towards the bar which caught their attention much more than the cathedral-inspired venue, deciding that a drink was necessary to kick the night off right.

“Two gin and tonics please,” the bartender nodded, beginning to prepare their drinks. Taehyung watched the bartender pour gin into his jigger, curious as to how someone could memorize the recipes for so many drinks. “How many years does it take for one to learn the ways of bartending?” he asked the brown-haired man, an attempt to strike conversation.

“Ah well a simple gin and tonic is something every bartender should know like it’s the back of their hand,” the man chuckled, “but if you’re talking about something like hmm,” he paused for a moment, “something like a bloody mary perhaps.”

A bloody mary? Isn’t that just vodka with some tomato juice?

“It’s much more than that,” the bartender laughed at Taehyung who was slightly taken aback, not realizing that he must’ve said what he was thinking aloud. “Though those are the two the main ingredients, it includes salt, pepper, hot sauce, garlic, herbs,” Taehyung was now genuinely curious as to where the bartender was going with this, “It covers the entire range of the human palate from sweet, salty, sour, unami, and savory but you have to make sure it doesn’t taste bitter.”

He continued talking as he poured the tonic water onto the frosted drinking glasses, “A little too much of one ingredient or a little too less and the whole drink goes to waste. You have to find a balance,” he emphasized the last part, almost as if this went beyond drinks, “Someone who wants a bloody mary is someone who definitely knows what they’re looking for,” he concludes his sermon-like speech, intensely staring at Taehyung. Namjoon looked at the man like he was crazy, who the hell overanalyzes a drink to this extent? Taehyung on the other had a look of fascination on his face, instead returning the stare.

“Well … cheers!,” Namjoon breaks the tense silence by raising his drink, momentarily being left hung dry until soon enough Taehyung lifted his drink up as well, the two of them clinking their glasses before chugging the bittersweet drink down their throats.

“Ah there he is!” Taehyung turned around, watching as his father made his way towards him, right alongside Sunhi’s parents. The two gave each other an awkward hug, “You better have a good damn reason for being so late,” his father harshly whispered into his ear before pulling back, the famous fake grin that Taehyung had grown to hate still plastered onto his face. The man was an expert at saving face, like father like son.

Taehyung remained silent instead politely greeting Sunhi’s parents before watching the trio as they made their way to greet other guests.

“I’m going to need a second drink,” he exasperated, causing Namjoon to let out a laugh. The bartender nodded, immediately beginning to prepare their drinks.

“I’m surprised Sunhi hasn’t gotten her claws on you yet, I could’ve sworn she was here earlier,” Namjoon mentioned causing Taehyung to shrug, his expression now dulled at the mention of her.

“I feel bad, I sorta snapped at her earlier, but she kept on nagging me, wouldn’t let me sleep in peace. I blame you,” he said, commenting on the situation earlier.

“Hey I’m not the one whose forcing you to be with her,” Namjoon remarked, causing Taehyung to shoot him a glare, his eyebrows now furrowed.

Instead he changed the topic, accustomed to Namjoon’s dismay of the relationship, “I just want to go home and sleep,” Taehyung yawned, the event was boring him more and more by the minute.

“Same he—” Namjoon suddenly stopped mid sentence, something more “important” now having caught his eye.

“You’re practically drooling, you do realize that right?” Taehyung deadpanned, glancing at the girl who had caught his friend’s eye. She was pretty, he wasn’t going to lie, but she seemed like someone who was quite stuck up to be honest. But he assumed that about everyone around here as it takes one to know one. “So are you going to just stand here and stare like a creep or …”

“You don’t mind me leaving you here?” Namjoon’s voice sounded a little too excited. Taehyung shrugged his shoulders, he wasn’t the type of person who couldn’t stand being alone. In fact, he enjoyed his own company sometimes, he had actually read somewhere that it was quite important for one’s own mental health.

“I think I need to go find Sunhi either way, or else she’ll be nagging me the whole night as to why I didn’t find her sooner, that and apologize for earlier,” Namjoon nodded, lightly patting on his shoulder before making his way to the woman who had caught his eye, trying his best not to gawk so much.

“Now where could she be…” Taehyung mumbled to himself, having now left the bar and instead walking around the venue, making a half-assed attempt at looking for his girlfriend.

Taehyung could feel his legs swaying left to right, the lack of balance he had was probably laughable to anyone who wasn’t him. He wasn’t drunk, at least that’s what he was telling himself. The way the world was spinning told him otherwise. In all honesty he had only asked for a couple more drinks after the second one, but nonetheless he always was a lightweight drinker to begin with. His bladder felt as if it was going to burst at any moment so instead of Sunhi being his top priority, going to the restroom now was.

He looked around, the signs on the doors now looking slightly blurry. He grabbed the handle to what looked like could be the men’s restroom harshly pushing the door open.

Everything happens for a reason… right?

“Oh my God, It’s not what it looks like,” Because what were the chances that he caught her right in the act, with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

Taehyung had seen this situation play out in so many movies and TV shows, whereas the boyfriend usually destroys everything in his way and immediately begins to throw punches at the lover, and yada yada yada. But for some odd reason all Taehyung could do was stand there and watch as she hurriedly tried placing her bra back on.

He couldn’t help but actually want to … laugh. Really, because what were the chances? What were the chances that instead of walking into what he thought was a restroom, he instead walked in on his girlfriend and Seoul’s biggest man-whore about to fuck in a janitor’s closet.

He glanced at Jungkook who had nothing but a giant smirk plastered on his face, not even bothering to put his shirt back on.

Taehyung gathered his thoughts… What was he supposed to do again?

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing left for Kim Taehyung to do, but to turn around and walk away. And so that’s what he did, drowning out her pleads for him to stay, a small smile gracing his lips. He was finally free.

Namjoon must’ve left early because once Taehyung had returned back to the bar, he was nowhere to be found. He decided it was just best to leave before Sunhi could find him and start begging him to hear her out. After texting his security guard to meet him out front, he asked for a bottle of water and attempted at fully sobering up before he’d have to face several rapidly flashing lights in his face.

Did it end up actually helping? Fuck no. God, why did they have to park his Mercedes so far away. It was as if no matter how many steps he felt like he was taking, he was no closer to where he wanted to be.

“Smile for the camera man, come on!” The rapid flashes of light caused Taehyung to stumble his footsteps worse than before, the responses he gave to the multiple questions being thrown at him coming out more like mumbles and slurs. He knew that deep inside his brain was sending him signals on what to do, whether his body was listening was another story.

“Watch where you’re going man! Momma’s boy can’t handle his liq—” one of the paparazzo shouted at him while grabbing at his arm, and maybe it had been cause he was drunk, maybe because he was simply just tired, but in an instant Taehyung had felt his fist collide with the man’s face throwing everyone and everything into a frenzy. The questions and comments now coming out of their mouths at a lightning speed, some were cursing him out, others were pretending to praise him at an attempt to get him to say something, but none of it mattered because by the time he got into the car it was too late to take any of it back, and soon enough everything had gone black.

Saturday Evening.

The hangover the next day was literal hell, Taehyung felt as if the inner surface of his skull was practically being thrashed upon, his eyesight struggling to cope with the rays of daylight that directly shone on his eyes. Not only that, but his mouth had felt so dry, however having to get up for water seemed like so much work to do considering how much his back was aching.

It was like the flu except it had been self-inflicted. He attempted to raise his heavy eyelids all in one go, just for them to immediately fall shut. He could feel the constant vibrating notifications from his phone, choosing to ignore it altogether as he figured it was probably Sunhi sending him several text messages. Even if it wasn’t her, he was too lazy to even stretch his arm out and disconnect his phone. Maybe he could sleep it off, he thought to himself, curling himself back under his thick duvet.

How was it that he was barely 22 and already facing the repercussions of intense hangovers when just a couple of years ago he could drink all night long and wake up the next day hangover free. It was as if with each passing year it just got worse, no wonder so many older folks didn’t get drunk anymore, they had learnt it the hard way.

And just as he was about to fall asleep, of course his stomach had to both lurch and gurgle like some kind of trapped animal. He groaned, swinging his feet around in bed like a kid who had just been told “no”. Sadly, he was going to have to force himself to get up and so he did.

Once on his feet, he immediately felt the room sway almost causing him to lose balance until he managed to grab onto his bedstead in order to keep himself standing. He yawned and stretched out his entire body, lowkey loving the sound of his bones cracking. Time to start a new day.

After brushing up, he began to prepare himself something quick to eat fearing that his stomach was going to lash out on him any moment and so he decided to make some scrambled eggs. Quick and easy. Right?

Wrong.

The rare occasions that Taehyung did cook were always 50/50, as in there was half a chance whatever he cooked would come out either decent or completely under/over cooked. The boy practically lived off of takeout, restaurants, and microwaveable food, but at this current moment he needed food and quickly at that. Today his eggs had come out slightly undercooked with some of the yolk still a little slimy, but it was edible nonetheless.

As he ate he was genuinely surprised at the fact that Sunhi didn’t ambush his home this morning, causing him to set a reminder on his phone to remove her fingerprint off of his security system as soon as possible. He scrolled through her long thread of texts that consisted of her going back and forth between apologizing, begging, and guilt tripping him, only causing him to roll his eyes and sigh.

[Incoming Facetime from: Namjoon 🐨]

Taehyung quirked his brow before clicking “accept”.

“Weren’t you the one who scolded me about facetiming without sending a warning text,” he laughed, it wasn’t like he was lying.

“Ah I know, I know, but I felt sorta bad for just leaving last night without saying goodbye, but a man has his needs,” Namjoon now sported a giant grin on his face, probably recalling last night’s events, “and well I thought you’d be in bed hungover, in need of a wake up call,” he joked only causing Taehyung to flash him the middle finger through the screen.

“Well I’m up,” Taehyung wondered if Namjoon knew, maybe Sunhi had told him or something. He quickly scratched the idea as he knew Sunhi was the type of person to try and keep everything under wraps … but Jeon Jungkook was not.

Jeon Jungkook.

Remember the small mention of Namjoon and Taehyung fighting over the affections of a girl only for her to end up choosing someone else. That someone else was none other than Jeon Jungkook, one of Upper Seoul’s biggest man-whores, if not the biggest man whore. If Sunhi was actually someone Taehyung loved, he probably would’ve punched that stupid smirk off of Jungkook’s face last night, but luckily he didn’t have to. Did Jungkook have it out for Taehyung? It was unclear to be honest. This definitely wasn’t the first time Jungkook has attempted at sabotaging him despite Taehyung clearly showing he could care less.

In fact the two before yesterday’s incident had actually been mutual acquaintances being in the same “circle” and all. That circle being the sons of the multi million/billionares of Seoul which included names such as Kim Seokjin and Park Jimin. Namjoon in particular was good friends with Seokjin, who in return was very close with Jungkook. Seokjin and Namjoon both being the “neutral” bridge between the two. So Taehyung wasn’t going to be surprised if Seokjin had in fact informed Namjoon of yesterday’s dilemma. It had been Seokjin who told Namjoon of Jungkook’s actions of the past such as leaking Taehyung’s location to paparazzi on a number of occasions, stealing brand deals under Taehyung’s nose, and many other things.

“So…”

“I know that you know,” Taehyung chuckled out, causing Namjoon to let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh great, I was really not looking forward to beating around the bush and forcing it out of you,” he laughed, “well it looks like you got what you wanted.”

Taehyung’s nose crinkled in confusion, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on!—” Namjoon’s mouth curved into his famous dimpled smile, obviously trying (but failing) to repress his laugh, “Don’t act like you’re not the happiest man on Earth right now! You’ve probably been praying for something like this to happen for forever,” Taehyung’s face went sour, “You’ve needed an excuse to break up with Sunhi without you ending up being the bad guy for so long, and that’s why you probably haven’t even shedded a single tear since you found out,” he insisted causing Taehyung to let out a bitter scoff , mumbling a silent “That’s not true.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Tae—” suddenly the sound of something abruptly falling grabbed Namjoon’s attention, “Moni! Put that down! Uh I gotta go, just text me later alright,” and with that he clicked, presumably to deal with his white feisty Eskimo.

Taehyung glanced at the clock which read 3:25PM, a small nap wouldn’t hurt right?

Sunday Morning.

So much for a “small nap”. Despite him having slept the whole Saturday off, Taehyung had woken up very early and in a good mood, ready to have himself a productive day.

He made himself breakfast that even a 5 year old could make: avocado toast with different slices of fruit and a simple protein shake. While letting his breakfast settle down in his stomach, he began to do his pre-workout stretch, with his goal in mind for today’s run being at least 6 miles.

After he was done stretching, he went down to the lobby making sure to politely greet his “neighbors”. They were the same people who kept tabs on him and sold him out to the press every chance they got, but not like he could lash out on them so instead he was forced to give them fake smiles along with stiff waves.

During his morning run, Taehyung took into appreciation of the crisp morning air which was both cold and dry. The view of the river brought him a sense of relaxation and before he knew it, he was done with his workout.

“What a beautiful day,” he had thought to himself as he walked back to his penthouse’s building, ready to take a much needed shower, but of course he should’ve known she was going to ambush him at some point because there she was, sitting in the building’s lobby.

Once she spotted him she immediately got up from the couch. He tried to quickly outpace her and get into the elevator, but she yanked on his hand preventing him from going any further.

“Stop avoiding me… please,” she sounded distraught which confused him. She certainly didn’t look distraught when she was getting her neck sucked on by Jungkook.

“Can we do this,” he pushed her hand off, “some other time. You’re gonna make a scene,” he scolded her. The two of them were in the middle of the lobby, and even though there seemed to be no one around, he could never be too sure.

“No because it seems this is the only way I could get your attention,” she muttered , “especially considering you removed my access,” causing him to let out a stifled laugh.

“Well that’s what someone does when they’re significant other hmm I don’t know cheats on them,” his voice emphasized the last words.

“I didn’t,” she quickly lowered her voice once she realized she had shouted that part out, “cheat on you,” she mumbled. “I was about to, but I didn’t,” she dramatically waved her finger at him.

“Yeah because I walked in on you?” he wondered if she knew how stupid she sounded.

“Well maybe if you showed me some affection every once in a while I wouldn’t have resorted to such acts!” What the two hadn't realized was that there was someone in the lobby quietly hiding behind a pillar, secretly recording the interaction between the two.

“Sunhi,” he ran his hand through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh, “can you just leave me alone? There is no fixing this, especially since this,” he made a motion with his fingers pointing to the both of them, “has been broken for a very long time.” And with the final word, he turned around and walked away, not bothering to look at her face which had now fallen from expression.

Sunday Night.

“Kim Taehyung NASTY fight with girlfriend Sunhi. Click here for more.” was what the Twitter article headlined their argument, and of course the link provided the video of the whole thing.

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:10] you really can be an ass [link to video]

[To: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:11] how!!

[10:11] i just told her the truth, at the end of the day no one can tell me that I was in the wrong 🤷🏻‍♂️

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:12] you’d be surprised with what knetz have to say…

[10:13] them and the media are going crazy over you unfollowing her

Taehyung scoffed while unplugging his phone and rolling to the other side of bed now that his phone was at 100%.

[To: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:14] yea well idc.

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:15] well at least ur out the relationship, that’s all that matters right 😬

[10:16] looks like ur back on the market … we all know how crazy that can get

Taehyung could feel himself become stiff at the last text. What was that supposed to mean? Maybe he was overthinking it too much…

He was a different person now, he reassured himself. Before he could dwell on it any further he decided that it was best to just go to sleep.

Monday Afternoon.

The next day Taehyung continued with his routine of making a somewhat decent breakfast, and running his daily number of miles, crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t be ambushed like the morning prior. Luckily he wasn’t.

The sensation of steamy water hitting his body was calming to him, the shower was very much needed. Trying not to get so lost in his thoughts, he began to sing the random songs that first came to mind. He’d been told by Namjoon on multiple occasions that his singing was good, but Taehyung at this current moment was just glad he lived alone. Namjoon, or anyone for that matter, would probably make fun of him for the song he was um … rapping.

“Ain't got enough money to pay me respect. Ain't no budget when I'm on the set. If I like it, then that's what I get!” his sudden motions almost made him slip, but luckily he had caught himself just in time, “yeah,” he finished off the lyric despite his near death experience.

It was once he got out the shower that he was in for a surprise.

“7 Rings… really?” Taehyung’s towel almost fell from his waist because of his jump in surprise. Thankfully he had held onto it before it could completely fall. “I didn’t take you to be such an Ariana Grande fan,” Taehyung rolled his eyes to the teasing Namjoon.

“It’s the song of the summer for your information,” he interjected, “And how the hell did you even get up here?”

“Hmm I don’t know maybe because you practically forced me to get my fingerprint and memorize your code so that I would,” Namjoon mimicked quote signs with his fingers, “stop bugging you when I could open the door myself,” causing Taehyung’s stern face to quickly become one of dumbfoundeness.

“Oh…”

“I’ll be in the kitchen making myself some food,” he playfully sighed before making his way out of Taehyung’s room.

Taehyung quickly lotioned his body, put on his overnight hair products, and threw on a baggy sweater along with some black sweatpants, assuming that Namjoon hopefully wasn’t going to try and drag him to go outside. He had a long week ahead of him which included photoshoots, interviews, meetings, and overall promotion for this brand new deal considering he currently served as the “face” to his family’s business.

“Wow making japchae, who put you in a good mood?” Taehyung laughed as he peeped over Namjoon’s shoulder, catching a whiff of the food he was making causing Namjoon to flash his dimpled smile at him.

“Well I have a date in a couple of weeks and so I’ve been practicing every chance I get,” he admitted catching Taehyung by surprise, “and before you ask, yes it’s the girl from the event on Friday.”

Taehyung tried to subdue his shock, “If I’m being honest I thought she was kind of a…” he contemplated his next choice of words, “um…”

“A one night stand,” Namjoon completed the sentence, a look of understanding on his face. “Well if I’m being honest I thought the same thing,” he cheeks reddened, “but she actually ended up being really sweet, and well I really li—”

“Okay I think I’m done hearing your little sap story that you haven’t even started,” he pretends to yawn, causing Namjoon to flash his middle finger at him which only makes him laugh, “Sorry I’m not a hopeless romantic like you.”

Namjoon scoffed as he stirred the noodles around, “So what? Deep down you know you’re one as well.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Why are you here again?” Namjoon flashed his middle finger again now causing Taehyung to laugh even harder than the first time.

“You sure know how to be rude sometimes,” Namjoon was now serving the japchae onto some plates, “and I’m here because one, I was bored, and two, because I was wondering if you were going to Thursday’s brunch,” the look on Taehyung’s face gave Namjoon the answer he was looking for.

“I completely forgot about that…”

“Why am I not surprised,” Namjoon sighed while giving Taehyung his plate of food.

“It’s always the same old place, same old routine, and most importantly the same old people,” he made sure to emphasize that last part, “you’re telling me you don’t get bored?”

“I do, but look what happened last time, I met someone new!” Namjoon bragged, only resulting in Taehyung rolling his eyes once again. “You’re like the grinch, but for love I swear,” Namjoon groaned, mentally taking note that the pleasant look on Taehyung’s face meant he had done a good job at making japchae. As long as he followed the exact amount of ingredients and steps as he did today then his date would go along just fine.

Taehyung slurped the final remaining bits of food on his plate before responding to Namjoon, “I’m fresh out of a relationship Joon, let me enjoy being single for the time being.”

“In the media’s eyes you’re fresh out of a relationship, but you and I both know that you’ve been single for a very long time,” Taehyung stayed silent at Namjoon’s words, a sudden pang of guilt now hitting him as he recalled what he had told Sunhi in the lobby that past Saturday. Did Taehyung see Namjoon’s point? Yes, of course he did. Did it feel good hearing it? No, it didn’t.

“Well um guess what, she cheated on me. I remained faithful, which honestly,” he scoffed in between his words, “was the least I could do. So stop trying to paint me as some big villain,” he sneered.

“All I’m saying is that the Taehyung I know would have never even gotten into that relationship to begin with,” Namjoon silently muttered to himself, a dismissive look on his face, causing Taehyung to let out a sardonic laugh. As if Namjoon was a better person than he was?

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, “You know I’m getting real tired of your little sly comments, as if i’m not going to catch on at some point, if you have something to say then grow some balls and say it,” Taehyung's voice echoed across the kitchen walls. Taehyung’s heart was practically pounding out of his chest, his jaw now completely clenched, glaring at Namjoon. The light atmosphere in the room had become stiff in the blink of an eye.

One would think that Namjoon would be shocked, maybe even angry at Taehyung’s outburst, but all he did was stare back, seeming completely unfazed, a pot that had been bubbling for quite some time between the two finally bubbling over. Withheld opinions, finally lashed out, “I’ll just never understand why you couldn’t break up with her from the moment your dad didn’t need you to date her anymore, or why you even got with her in the first place. All you did was waste her time and let her convince herself that she was in love with you knowing damn well you’ve never felt anything from day one. I mean even now she thinks there’s something worth saving,” he cursed, his voice now elevated up several notches, “And it’s the fact that you see nothing wrong with it that makes me sick!”

Taehyung’s face immediately fell, hurt by his friend’s words, but it didn’t stop Namjoon from continuing on, “I mean the Taehyung I knew would’ve never in a million years agreed to do something like this for anyone,” disappointment evident in his voice, “let alone for your dad,” he spat. “It just,” he pauses, “It just isn’t like you Taehyung. None of this is.”

Taehyung could feel his tough demeanor crumble, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so stop acting like you do,” he scowled.

“It’s just funny to me, years ago you’d talk about becoming nothing like your dad, but nowadays it looks like I’m looking at his clone,” Namjoon muttered, “You’ve changed Taehyung. You may joke around with me here and there, but I can tell you’re always holding back. You leave for a whole year to God knows where, and come back a completely different person, acting like your dad’s very own fucking puppet. You’ve closed yourself off. Like, like you’re mad at the world or something, or I don’t know—”

“And what, you want the old reckless Taehyung back?! The one who destroyed everything in his fucking path! Is that what the fuck you want?” his voice boomed, but even Namjoon could see it was merely a facade, the mixture of both guilt and sadness seeping through the cracks of his voice.

“Of course not! But the Taehyung standing in front of me is no better than the one before. You may not be as reckless as you used to be, but you’re definitely just as careless,” Namjoon condemned him, “And so then I think about everything and all I could ask myself is why? Why don’t you find something or someone, you genuinely love, something that makes you happy, not your dad, not the media, YOU.”

“Because I just don’t want to Joon…” Taehyung looked away, ashamed to make eye contact, his voice had now become a mere whisper.

“And all I can think about is if it has something to do with —” Namjoon could see Taehyung physically tense up, “Taehyung what the hell happened that night?” he pleaded desperately.

“Just don’t Joon,” and with that Namjoon knew that even he was pushing the boundaries, deciding that it was best to just keep quiet, “I came back didn’t I? ” he harshly spat.

There was a pregnant pause, “I’m sorry,” Namjoon apologized, but was only met with silence. Taehyung got up from the kitchen chair, and placed his dish into the sink, harshly passing by Namjoon.

“Make sure you lock the door on your way out,” he muttered, before making his way upstairs into his room, leaving Namjoon standing in the kitchen by himself.

Monday Night.

And so that night, Taehyung stared up at his ceiling thinking about what Namjoon had told him. He was hurt by his friend’s words, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t understand where he was coming from …

But it wasn’t like Taehyung was a cold hearted person, or at least he’d like to think he wasn’t. Behind it all, he was still the same kind and polite person he’d always been. He was just more mature nowadays, finally growing up like he should’ve years ago. It was simply for the best.

So then why did he feel so wrong?

He felt conflicted, he felt guilt, but honestly he had been feeling guilty long before he got into a relationship with Sunhi. Maybe it was that same guilt he’s felt eating him alive for the past several years that’s made him close himself off to others. It was the same guilt that led to disappearing one night and not coming back until about a year later.

Feeling overwhelmed, he decided to get up from bed, and stepped onto his balcony just wanting to just look at the stars before going to bed. Tonight they had seemed to be shining extra bright, he attempted at counting each one, losing count mid way.

He couldn’t help but reminisce about his childhood, when he and his mom would go camping at Noeul Campground at least once a year, and oh how the stars would shine like never before. The two of them making a game of who could come up with the best figurines using the stars. It was nights like these that he truly did miss her, but he knew she was watching over him. Forever and always.

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a while, I hope you’re not mad. I know it’s no excuse, but time nowadays just goes by so fast and well I’m coming to a point in life where I feel like I have nothing figured out. Like as if I’m not truly satisfied, and not truly well … happy. I just feel lost, Ma. I thought coming back here, I could put the facade that I was fine but,” he lets out a deep breath,”I’m just not. God I wish you were here, you’d know exactly what to say right now,” he could feel the warm droplets of water falling from his face, not bothering to wipe them off. “I’m so sorry Ma,” were his final words before stepping back inside, a peaceful slumber waiting for him in bed.

Thursday Morning.

“Ah now this is what I’ve been looking forward to,” Namjoon grinned as politely grabbed the mimosa from the bartender’s hand. Taehyung made a motion with his hand once Namjoon offered him his cup, instead leaning against the bar watching as guests made their way in and out of the venue.

Taehyung and Namjoon had made up in the days prior, Taehyung sending a “btw the japchae was too sweet 🤭” text message, as a way of telling Namjoon that all was forgiven. Taehyung in return, reflected on Namjoon’s words, deciding that he was right, something needed to change.

“This place, it’s …” Namjoon expected a complaint out of Taehyung’s mouth, “really pretty,” he finished off, genuinely surprising Namjoon.

The venue resembled some kind of greenhouse, the arrangement of dangling flowers and potted plants, along with the rays of natural sunlight peeking through the glass exterior, and the minimalist design in seat arrangement truly was a work of art. The air itself felt crisp and fresh, he assumed it was because of the mixture of the plants’ scent along with the air ventilators.

“Wow, look who's in a good mood,” Namjoon teased him, Taehyung flashing him a small smile. Despite it only being 9 o'clock in the morning, he was glad he came. It was a brand new day, and he felt optimistic that things were going to start looking up for him.

“Ah well, let’s just enjoy it while it lasts,” he responded clearly joking around, “Let’s just say I thought about everything you said, and well I just want to start fresh. No more getting pressured into things, and being so tense about everything all the time, just me going with the flow,” Namjoon quirked his eyebrow, genuinely interested in what Taehyung had to say, “Whatever happens…” he pauses, “happens,” he finishes off, a grin now on his face.

As the brunch event went on, Taehyung continued to observe people, examining what they wore, the way they spoke, how they acted, as it usually told him a lot about a person.

“I’ll take a bloody mary, light on the vodka please,” Taehyung’s ears perked up at what he heard, a bloody mary? This early in the morning? He remembered the bartender’s words from a couple of days ago.

He tried to glance at the figure who was only a couple of feet away from him, sitting in one of the many empty seats aligned at the bar. He tried using his peripheral vision to try and make out a face, but sadly whoever this was, the angle that they were sitting along with their honey colored straw hat helped cover most of their face. The only thing he could see was that whoever it was, was a female and clearly a reckless one as a bloody mary was most likely going to result in an embarrassing stain.

He wondered if she was new around here, the way she was sitting clearly told him that she probably was. You see there were almost unspoken rules in the upper class, methods on doing things, and a high regard for appearance and well her posture wasn’t exactly… the best, and the blatant disregard for the all white dress code made him curious as to who she was. Like there was some kind of pull that made him feel the need to go up to her. She seemed … different.

“And you wanted to come at me for gawking last time! You can’t even see her face from here,” Namjoon’s undeniably loud voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Um any fucking louder and I’m sure the whole place will hear you,” Taehyung face was flushed, hoping the woman didn’t hear. Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“Hm …” Namjoon stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before a mischievous look appeared on his face, “Hey well since you’re so keen about going with flow,” he mimicked Taehyung’s word’s from earlier, “how about you go get her number and see where things go from there,” he winked.

Taehyung quickly shook his head, garnering a laugh out of Namjoon. “Since when has Kim Taehyung been too scared to ask for someone’s number,” he teased, “Come on you know you want to, I’ll even go find something else to do just in case she rejects you, I won’t be there to see it.”

He contemplated going up to her, what if she was just another Upper Seoul brat? Worse, what if Namjoon was right and she just completely shrugged him off? No, no one shrugged Kim Taehyung off. Namjoon's grin became wider once he saw Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow, and a determined look appearing on his face.

And so with that he decided he’d go up to her, maybe try and make some small talk. It wouldn't hurt , right? At least he wouldn’t be as bored as he was now. Slowly he made his way over to the seat next to her, trying not to look so much like a creep.

“I’ll take a mimosa please,” he ordered, the bartender nodded, “So you’re not scared of spilling your drink?” Taehyung quickly noticed how tense the woman became from his question, her posture going from relaxed to completely stiff. It wasn’t until she turned to face him that Taehyung felt taken back, his heart now pounding out of his chest, and the feeling of nervousness hitting him like a wave. As cliche as he thought it sounded, she was completely mesmerizing.

“Oh uh well,” she stuttered her words out bringing him a sense of comfort that he wasn’t the only nervous one,“um,” she was looking anywhere but his eyes, “No not really, I tend to be careful with things like this,” she explained now fidgeting with her fingers.

Maybe it had been bad luck, but a couple of seconds later Taehyung suddenly now had red tomato juice mixed with vodka plastered all over his shirt. “Oh my God! I am so sorry!” she exclaimed.

Several guests were now staring at the scene in front of them, the unknown girl now had a look of horror on her face, but instead of being upset all Taehyung could do was genuinely laugh. “I really didn’t mean to do that, oh my—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured her, slowly pushing her hand away which was uselessly blotting his white buttoned up shirt with a napkin.

“No it’s not, I really didn’t mean to do that, I just—” her face was as red as the spilled drink itself, her words coming out completely jumbled almost as if she was talking more to herself than him.

“And I’m telling you it’s okay,” he insisted, “I think you’ve done the most interesting thing around here in a very long time,” he then stuck his hand out, “I’m Taehyung,” he introduces himself, giving her a small smile along the way.

It felt like she was staring at him for an eternity with nothing but a doe-eyed look on her face, and he wondered what was going through her head. Was he really that intimidating? With several thoughts running through his head, the feeling of regret now creeped onto the back of his mind, maybe he shouldn’t have ever come up to her. What was he thinking? This was practically all his fault.

His panic came into a halt once he felt the touch of her hand now moving along with his, “I’m Y/N.”

🧚🏻 a/n: here we goooo! finally kicking things off hehe, things should defiantly move faster from this point on, I just felt like it was important for me to establish both y/n and Taehyung’s personality, background, and all that good stuff before diving into the basis of the whole story. feel free to send me any theories, comments, asks, etc ! I shall update very soon.

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 62 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The assistant gossip network continued to do its thing, while Courtney lived her best life, Sutan offered Violet some wardrobe assistance, and Bianca planned a coming out.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Party has arrived, and not everyone is prepared...

***

“Remember to find your light!”

Gigi turned her head, trying as hard as she could not to squeeze her eyes shut, the studio lights blinding.

“I said find it, not stare into the sun!”

Gigi blushed and moved her head again, doing her best to try and follow the instructions Sutan kept giving her.

They were in a photo studio in the Bronx, Gigi to get her first pictures for her portfolio taken, while Symone had practiced how to shoot in swimwear, her friend now waiting with her phone for Gigi to finish up.

Gigi had watched Symone move around, completely enthralled by how elegant the other model already was, Sutan barely correcting her.

“Straighten your back!” Gigi did as she was told, a pair of black jeans hugging her body, the long sleeved black shirt she was wearing clinging to her arms.

“Excuse me...” The photographer, who had introduced herself as Widow, looked out from behind her camera, “can I do my job in peace?” Widow smiled even though her tone was clearly sassy, her teeth blindingly white, her black box braids collected in a high bun. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, big red earrings hanging from her ears.

“You know what I hired you for,” Sutan smiled back, and Widow rolled her eyes, making Gigi giggle.

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Widow teased.

“Don’t give the models any ideas with your attitude.” Sutan grinned, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, refocusing on Gigi who had tried to hold the position he had asked for.

“No, not like, you have to be more.” Sutan moved his shoulders, and Gigi tried to copy it. She knew they were doing this shoot so she could get an idea of what she looked like, so she could train what Sutan called her inner photographer, but it was really difficult.

“No, still not right.” Sutan stepped on the set, getting next to Gigi, the scent of his cologne instantly catching her nose. “Your strength is in your lines Gigi, so you have to stand tall. Use those legs of yours,” He smiled, tapping his own left leg and moving it forward, mirroring what Gigi hoped she was doing. “Try this.”

Gigi moved her leg to copy Sutan, her entire center of balance shifting.

“There we go!” Sutan grinned. “Good job. Now hold it, and find your light.”

***

Violet tried to turn to the side, watching her profile in the big mirror on the back wall of the dressing room.

Her and Sutan had each been swept up by a personal shopper the moment they stepped inside Barney’s, Violet whisked away to the woman's clothes department where everything was outrageously expensive and completely new.

Violet was wearing a beautiful red dress, the hemline just off the floor, her cast barely visible if she stood completely still, which suited her perfectly well.

Violet had every plan to get to the Christmas party, sit down, and then hopefully not move again for the rest of the night, Jovan’s offer of bedazzling her crutches still making her shiver.

“So, what do we think?” Violet’s shopper smiled, the woman standing behind her, her pile of rejected dresses four times the size of the approved ones for the upcoming events, but she couldn’t help being extremely critical, not when everything was so stupidly expensive.

“Well…” Violet looked in the mirror. The dress suited her, even though it didn’t sit snugly at her waist, but that wasn’t something a loose loop stitch couldn’t fix so she could undo it again later and hopefully keep the dress longer. It hadn’t been Violet’s intention to lose weight, and if she was being honest, she had actually expected to gain with a broken foot, but it seemed like that hadn’t been the case, her appetite even worse than usual, her pain killers often making it feel like she had knives stabbing her stomach.

“I’ll take it.”

Violet knew that the dress would be approved by Fame, and loved by Sutan, the low neckline and the opportunity for matching underwear always a treat.

***

“Kat? Are you gonna be okay?” Trixie asked, voice soft.

They were sitting in a little cafe across from her doctor’s office. They’d just gotten the official news - she was pregnant, no doubt about it. She’d put on a transparently false, cheerful face while they were there but barely said two words since they’d left, a croissant and mango smoothie sitting in front of her, untouched.

According to the doctor’s best estimate, she was 14 weeks along, which already limited their options, a fairly invasive procedure now the only way to go if they didn’t want the baby.

She looked at him, blue eyes clear, and said, “I don’t know.”

Trixie nodded, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly. He didn’t want to push her too much, could tell that she was in a fragile state of mind.

“Well...I’m here if there’s anything…Anything I can do.”

“Got a flask on you?” she asked drily, then closed her eyes, immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, the two of them sitting side by side, their fingers intertwined.

***

Roxy looked up as Courtney rounded the corner from Miss Fame’s office, flashing her a bright smile. She had just gotten yet another delivery--Roxy was fast becoming BFFs with Greg, the Marie Claire office runner.

“Hey Rox! Whatcha got for me?”

“Hi, Court,” Roxy said, eyeing her suspiciously before handing over the bag, wondering why she was so perky today.

Courtney looked inside the bag and saw what Roxy had already - a large black velvet jewelry box.

“Open it,” Roxy said, and Courtney pulled it out, peeking inside before snapping it closed again. “Come on, you’re not gonna show me?”

A smile pulled at Courtney’s lips, and she leaned forward onto the reception desk, voice low, saying, “You wanna know something?”

“Yes, of course!” Roxy perked up. Was Courtney finally about to admit to her affair with Bianca Del Rio? It was gonna be a hell of a lot easier once she didn’t have to pretend to be in the dark anymore.

“You know how I said that I’ve been...uh...seeing someone who works at Marie Claire?”

“Yeah…you gonna tell me who?”

“Well, no,” she said, and off Roxy’s annoyed scoff, added, “But...we’re coming to the party tonight...together.”

“Oh really?” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. This actually was pretty decent information, given the potential shit storm it could cause. The drama of Miss Fame’s assistant dating one of her best friends, and them showing up together to a company event? Absolutely delicious.

“Yeah, so...I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Courtney said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I guess I will,” Roxy agreed, smiling placidly, already typing out a DM to Bob.

***

Fame breathed a sigh of relief as the car pulled up to the hotel she had chosen for the Galactica Christmas Party. The facade was decorated with dripping ice crystals, lights and fake snow making it the winter wonderland she had envisioned. The red carpet had been rolled out, guests already posing for photos and talking to reporters about their clothes, Fame recognizing the signature cameras from E! Network and one of Vogue’s journalists.

She had gotten the confirmation from Shangela that the string quartet had shown up, the musicians hired for the lounge area while the caterers had set up shop in the enchanted forest filled with actual pine trees, the bar carrying a line of gins specifically brewed for the event.

“So,” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. The majority of Fame’s skirt was in her husband's lap since she refused to let the silk anywhere near the bottom of the car. “how are we feeling?”

“Me?” Fame smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek “Quite content.”

***

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into walking the carpet?”

Sutan looked over at Violet, the two of them on the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel, Raja and Raven already halfway inside. Raja was in a tight-fitting emerald green suit with a deep cleavage, her hair twisted into a gorgeous updo, while Raven was dressed in a floor length gown in matching green, the two of them looking absolutely stunning together.

“Yes.” The message was clear, and Sutan could feel the tiniest curl of irritation in his stomach. Violet was beyond beautiful, her usually pink nails carefully painted the same red shade as her dress, a tiny purse slung over her shoulders, her black hair curled and spilling over her shoulders and back, her posture perfect even though she was leaning on her crutch, only one of them allowed to come along.

He wanted those pictures of them together, even if it was selfish.

“Lovely eyes-”

“I said no.” Violet’s tone left no room for argument, and Sutan pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose not to let his irritation win out.

“Sutan,” Violet reached out, gently touching his arm. “This isn’t a you issue, it’s a me issue. I’d love to go up there and be on your arm like a dainty little princess or trophy-”

“What?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had never thought of Violet as a princess, or even dainty, the muscles he knew she had and the iron will he had seen her possess over and over again so much more attractive than any trophy girlfriend could be. “That’s not what-”

“I know,” Violet squeezed, underlining her words, “But I’d honestly rather jump into traffic than talk to a single one of those reporters, and risk showing up in any of their publications.”

Sutan snorted, Violet’s dark sense of humor as always getting to him. He knew it also had to do with her relationship to her family, Violet’s choked hospital confession still rumbling around in his head, what little he had managed to piece together telling its clear story of a gossip magazine-obsessed mother, his girlfriend posing for his own mothers old canon camera at Thanksgiving without any issues.

“Okay, but promise me,” Sutan took a step, bringing them closer, his hand finding it’s now familiar place on Violet’s waist, “that I can get one soon.”

“A photo?” Violet raised an eyebrow, their hips almost touching, her free hand on his chest.

“Mmh, just for the two of us.”

“I’ll consider it,” Violet smiled, her fingers gently rearranging his tie, making sure it was sitting completely straight. “If you promise me that we can get a cab home.”

“A cab?” They had arrived with Raja and Raven, a driver coming back to pick all four of them up at the end of the night, “Why?”

“Because you, Mr. Amrull, look fucking fantastic tonight,” Violet looked up at him, a smirk on her lips, “and I wanna make out in the backseat.”

“You ready?” Bianca asked, looking over at Courtney as their car pulled up to the curb.

Courtney glanced outside, where a crowd of photographers and reporters were gathered, stomach seizing with the reality of what she was about to do, wondering if it was a mistake. Even walking the carpet with Bianca instead of taking the normal entrance with the rest of the support staff suddenly seemed audacious.

“No,” she admitted, looking back at Bianca apologetically. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Would it help if I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look?” Bianca asked, reaching out to take her hand.

Her outfit for the night was probably the most conservative of all the dresses Dan had pulled for her - a black dress--low cut, but not in a slutty way with a little bow at the front and full circle skirt, paired with a pair of Bianca’s beautiful multicolored Louboutins and simple, classy jewelry--including a glamorous strand of pink pearls that Bianca had sent over earlier in the day.

In spite of her nerves, Courtney couldn’t help but smile a little at the compliment, proud of the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, hoping to make Bianca proud. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and responded with a cheeky, “Look who’s talking…”

Bianca grinned, and Courtney was once again struck by how fantastic she looked, in a red silk organza cocktail dress, the floaty feminine fabric accentuating her curves perfectly, a deep v-neck giving the perfect peek at her cleavage.

“What if we just stayed in the car for awhile?” Courtney suggested, fluttering her lashes.

“I promise to make it worth your while later, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand, pulling her in close. “But right now, I’m pretty excited to show you off. So whaddaya say?”

Courtney took a deep breath, the churning in her stomach now a combination of nerves and excitement.

“Okay.”

Bianca signalled to the driver, who quickly got out and walked around to open their door.

“Here we go…” Bianca gave her hand one final squeeze and got out, giving the flashing cameras a polite wave before reaching back in to help her out.

Courtney’s mind was a mess. She suddenly had so many concurrent anxieties, like tripping on the carpet, or being dragged to filth by come gossip rag, or, given how lightheaded she now felt, fainting, here in front of all these people. She tried to steady herself, and Bianca’s arm slid securely around her waist.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. You look amazing,” Bianca murmured in her ear.

Bianca led her down the carpet--a true professional, posing and smiling, calmly directing Courtney so that she knew where to stand and where to look, chatting jovially with reporters.

“Who’s your date, Bianca?” one of them asked boldly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bianca joked back. They’d discussed this ahead of time - better to keep Courtney’s name out of things for the moment, given her job title. Courtney understood, and agreed, and was even a bit relieved. For now, on gossip sites and fashion blogs, she’d just be ‘BDR’s latest blonde,’ and she was very much okay with that. After all, the people that mattered to both of them would know, and that’s what she cared about.

“Well, is it serious?” another piped up.

“You tell me,” Bianca said, and then Courtney really thought she might faint, Bianca pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek as about a billion flashbulbs went off in their faces, murmuring, “You’re doing perfectly, angel.”

She turned to Bianca, gazing at her with breathless admiration, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. And then she took Bianca’s face in her hands and impulsively kissed her, right on the mouth, soft but sure. So what if it was only a fling? Courtney didn’t care anymore--she would remember this high for the rest of her life.

Bianca smiled against her mouth and whispered, “Well, that’ll make headlines...”

“Oops,” Courtney whispered back, both of them giggling.

They broke apart, matching grins on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes, until Bianca turned back to the sea of paparazzi, now in a frenzy, shouting out questions too fast for Courtney to even process the words.

“That’s enough for you demons!” Bianca called, gently pulling Courtney up the steps, giving one last smiling wave at the top, Courtney’s hand still clasped in hers.

“Are you done?”

“Nope!”

Raja hid her grin, her shoulder touching Raven’s as they posed for the camera, her fiancée radiating excitement as she chatted and flirted with the photographers.

Raven had always adored the camera, and if there was a journalist behind it, she was practically in love, getting caught by the paparazzi a treat for her each and every time it happened.

Raja didn’t feel the same thrill, didn’t care as much about showing up in gossip magazines and websites since she had gotten more than enough of that in her youth, but she couldn’t be truly upset when it generated so many great pictures, Raven often looking sexy as sin when she got caught leaving the gym.

“Raja! Over here!”

Raja turned her head, the photographer catching her attention, and that was when she saw them, Bianca coming up a little ways behind her.

Seeing Bianca on a red carpet wasn’t strange, but what was frankly bizarre was the familiar blonde at her side.

Raja had expected Fame’s assistant to be somewhere in the crowd, since it was a company party and a big treat for the staff, but what the fuck was she doing on the red carpet? The support staff was supposed to enter the party through the normal pedestrian entrance.

And then, Bianca put her arm around Courtney’s waist, kissing her cheek as she giggled girlishly.

Oh, fuck.

This was not good. Frankly, Raja wasn’t shocked that Bianca had been messing with Courtney, her behavior at the meeting last week making it painfully obvious that she liked her. But this, this was next level.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Raja witnessed something that made her blood run cold. Courtney grasped Bianca’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips, causing absolute chaos from the group of paparazzi around them.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Raven looked up at her, a concerned and confused expression on her beautiful face.

“Wait here.” Raja released Raven, leaving her behind on the carpet, prepared to ambush Bianca the second she got to the doors.

Bianca had done a lot of stupid shit over the years - they all had - and dating bimbos wasn’t a new thing for her, but making out with Fame’s assistant in front of the paparazzi?

That was a new level of braindead, even for her, and Raja had to stop it right now.

The moment Bianca stepped off the carpet, she felt someone grab her arm and roughly yank her into the lobby.

“Bianca!” Raja hissed, pulling at her arm. “Come here!”

“Ow!” Bianca laughed at Raja. “Let go of me, you fucking mountain gorilla!”

Just because the woman towered over her was no reason to be intimidated, and it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to bring her down at the moment than Raja looking at her like she was insane.

Beside her, Courtney let out a small gasp, and Raja tried to recover, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulder and giving Courtney the most sugary-sweet, fakest voice she could manage to say, “Hey there Court, can you give us a minute? I have to chat with Bianca about something important. Great shoes, by the way.”

“Oh...yeah, alright. Um…” Courtney backed away, trying to give them some space. “I’ll just wait over here, then-”

“Perfect!” Raja dragged Bianca to the other end of the lobby, away from any reporters.

“This oughta be good,” Bianca grumbled, though she was still too hyped from the carpet to manage to be truly annoyed.

“What,” Raja pushed Bianca into a corner, inches from her face, her voice filled with venom though her eyes betrayed her geniune concern, “the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Bianca?!”

“Wanna be more specific?” Bianca asked, tilting her head, an impish smile on her face.

"It's bad enough that you're fucking Fame's assistant, but to parade her around on the red carpet? Without even bothering to give us a heads-up? Are you insane?" Raja’s teeth were clenched, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

"Please. Our relationship has nothing to do with-"

"Relationship? Are you actually calling this a relationship?"

"Yes!" Now, Bianca was starting to get annoyed. Who the fuck did Raja think she was talking to?

"Oy, this is so much worse than I thought,” Raja groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please don't tell me this is why you bailed on the tasting menu."

"So what if I did?"

"Oh god."

"Fuck you!"

"And what did you expect to happen, Bianca? What's your great master plan with this childish stunt?"

“Well...to be honest, I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me on the carpet,” Bianca admitted, a giggle slipping from her lips. “It was kinda cute, did you see?”

“I...am going to slap you.”

“Come on, Raj. I did give this whole thing a little thought.”

“Really? It doesn’t fucking seem like it!”

“Well, I have. Look, I know she’s gonna be pissed, but I also know she’s not gonna cause a scene in the middle of the party. And then after tonight, she’s got almost a full week to cool off before she has to see me again,” Bianca said, punctuating her statement with a charming smile. Bianca was no idiot. Of course she knew that Fame would be irritated, maybe even angry, but she figured that this was a situation where it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. And besides, if she had to endure her friend’s wrath for awhile in exchange for being free to put her relationship with Courtney out into the open, then so be it.

“That’s what you think will happen?” Raja huffed. “Bianca, please, Fame hasn’t seen you guys yet. If we get Courtney out the back door, we can make an alliance with Patrick to get Fame drunk and unplug the wifi tomorrow so she doesn’t go online. It’ll be like it never happened, and we'll never speak of it again.”

“Raj, listen. I know this might be a real clusterfuck, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

“Oh jesus help me.” Raja groaned. “I hope she’s worth it, Bianca.” She pulled away, shaking her head. “I really hope she’s worth it.”

As she walked away, Bianca took a deep breath, looking back across the lobby at Courtney, who was doing a terrible job of trying to look casual, the anxiety on her face clear as day. Bianca sent her a big smile, reaching out a hand, and Courtney rushed toward her.

“Was she mad?” she asked, brows creased with worry.

Bianca cupped her face lightly, stroking her cheek, and promised, “Not at you.”

“Okay.” Courtney bit her lip, and Bianca leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the ballroom.

“Yeah...in a minute…” Courtney said, immediately adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, angel. There’s no rush,” Bianca promised. “In fact, if you’d rather get out of here and go somewhere else-”

“No, no, no…” Courtney laughed, taking her hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

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aizawassleepparalysisdemon · 3 years

Text

𝕴𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖌𝖓𝖎𝖙𝖔 7

Homura was a boy that you were interested in both have you have exchanged looks in the hallways. You had thought that maybe both of you were going to be a good couple. He was compassionate and passionate about getting into the business world. You loved the fire he presented in his personality.

This morning you walk downstairs and present Mei to your parents. They loved the kitten but were concerned. "We don't have anything for the kitten, y/n." you sigh. "I know, but we can buy it" your mother's concerned face changed into a smile. She looks over to your dad, who smiled back. "Well, if you hurry and get dressed. Me and you can go get her some things" your dad gets up. You run upstairs and put on a pair of jeans and a shirt. You go downstairs. Your dad was finishing coffee. once He saw you and quickly finished the cup of coffee. "Alright, let's go." as you and your father drive to the pet store. You see Katsuki making his way into a store. You reach over and honk the horn "KATSUKI!" Katsuki turned around and saw you in the car "y/n?" you laugh, "Dad, this is Katsuki, a friend of mine" your father looks at Katsuki and smiles. He waves Katsuki waves back he enters the store.

"Do you think he's cute?" your face grew hot. "Stop." your dad smiles. "Look, he's not bad looking" "DAD!" you hit his arm. "It could have been worse." your dad starts driving. "I could have been meeting that Homura guy you like" You cover your face with your hands, "He's very handsome, to me" "Yeah to you." your dad responds. "I saw him and just about grounded you for making me look at a picture of him" "It could have been worse," your dad shrugs. "Yeah, I suppose so." you enter the pet store and grab various toys while your dad went to find a litter box.

"Y/n?" you look over and saw Koji. "Oh, Koji, it is nice to see you." he nods. You weren't surprised to see him, because ever since class started, everyone could see that Koji was an animal lover you thought it was cute. "So what are you getting?" you ask Koji. He picks up a metal bowl, "It's for my bunny." you smile. "You have a bunny!" he nods, "That's nice." Koji nods. "It's white." you smile. "Well, it was nice to see you, Koji" he waves bye.

You walk around the pet store looking for your father when you hear someone familiar laughing rather loudly. You turn your head and see Mr. Aizawa and Mic they were both smiling at each other you watch as Mr. Aizawa uses a feathery end of a cat toy and tickles Mic with it. The whole scene melted your heart Mr. Aizawa looked so in love. You could only sigh longingly with a small smile at the sight before you. This scene right here must be what love was. You walk down a different aisle, not wanting to interrupt Mr. Aizawa, and Mic "Y/n" your father walked over with a litterbox. Inside the litter box were a mat and scoop. You walk over with your father to the cashier aisle to pay.

"Y/n," you turn and see Mr. Aizawa and Mic. But this time, in Mic's arms was a little girl. "Hi, Mr. Aizawa," your father looks at Aizawa and Mic. "Hello." Mr. Aizawa smiles at the little girl, who was looking at him. "This is Eri" you look at the little girl. she was a pretty little thing, but you could tell that she was shy. "Hello Eri, I'm Y/n" she looked up at Aizawa. He nods. "I'm Eri," she smiles. You smile back. "I'm Y/n" she turns back to Mic and rests her head on his shoulder. you pay for the cat things while your dad talks with Mr. Aizawa and Mic. "Come on, Dad." he turns and smiles, "It was nice speaking to the two of you and you, of course" he gushes over Eri. "Bye," you wave at Mr. Aizawa, Mic, and Eri. she gives you one last smile. It was so heartwarming they turn back to pay themselves as you guys exit. "They were a nice couple" you smile and nod.

You and your dad enter the car, "Shota, especially he was honest, but I could tell that so far you were a pleasure to have in class" Your dad looks at you then back at the road. "He said you were going to be a star student." you smile, remembering when Aizawa told you that "We call him Mr. Aizawa" your dad smiles, "Well, now you know his name." you nod the rest of the car ride was in silence, but it was a comfortable kind of silence you couldn't help but smile it felt good. And even better once you realized that your dad. will be telling your mother what Mr. Aizawa said about you. you could already hear the praise your mother was going to shower you in. "That little girl was precious." Your father gives you a quick smile. "Yeah, she was shy," your dad nods. "From what Shota told me, she was adopted by them. from this awful guy," you stop smiling, "Really." "That son of bitch was probably the reason she was so shy" you look opened the door. "Hello, Mom." she smiles.

Katsuki's point of view

Katsuki was on a mission. His mind has been spiraling ever since the first day of school. And he needed something to make it stop. But nothing was going to work. Katsuki already decided that, but as he was looking in his mirror. Katsuki felt the need to get some things from the store. The want grew once he noticed tiles in his bathroom that opened up. Katsuki took off three tiles behind them was space he estimated enough to put a shoebox in there and hide it.

Katsuki walked down the street and to the store once he heard a car honk Katsuki was going to ignore it, but then "KATSUKI!" Katsuki turned around. "Y/n?" y/n laughed. "Dad, this is Katsuki, a friend of mine." Y/n's dad waves, and he waves back Katsuki enters the store with a smile on his face.

Katsuki walked around. He saw nothing that was interesting. He stopped by the hair dyes and looked at a dark brown one before deciding against dying his hair. Instead, he found a dark brown wig. "That will have to do" he found a pair of jeans and a baggy long-sleeved shirt and some boots. Alongside this outfit. Katsuki chose a black beanie with some bracelets and necklaces Katsuki paid for them and exited the shop heading back home, "Kacchan." he turned, "What did you buy?" Katsuki turned and saw Izuku with Ochako "Stuff" Izuku followed beside Katsuki. "Go away, Nerd." "You must be in a good mood" Ochako smiles Katsuki walked faster. "Well, Kacchan, see you at school." Izuku and Ochako enter a restaurant, "Hmph." if Y/n were here, they'd probably be happy with how well he handled Izuku being around. Katsuki smirked. "Hell, yeah, they would be" Katsuki entered his house and went upstairs into his room.

Katsuki folded everything. Katsuki placed the clothes neatly into the bag again. Katsuki bent and gently picked up four wood panels on the floor at the front of his window. Katsuki took out another shoebox and tossed it on his bed. He placed the bag down in the space, and Katsuki placed the wood panels back down Katsuki sat on his bed and took a deep breath. He reached for the box and opened it. "Ew," the shoebox had stuff about All Might, a fictional character. He and Izuku were obsessed with it a long time ago. Katsuki dumped the merchandise in his trashcan by his desk and set the box down on his desk Katsuki opened a drawer and took out a picture. The picture was from Mina of her, y/n, and Ochako, and the others.

Katsuki looked at the picture Mina and Ochako had their arms around Y/n. Izuku was next to Mina Izuku held up a peace sign Shoto was in the left corner. Oddly close to the camera Kirishima and Kaminari both posed stupidly in the background. With Sero looking at them weirdly. Katsuki picked up another photo. He then realized he had a double. Katsuki placed the first in his drawer Katsuki took a sharpie and started scribbling. He scribbled out Mina, Ochako, and Izuku. First, he scribbled out Kirishima, and the rest second. They all had X's over their faces except Y/n. They were the only one that he wanted to look at, if he wanted a look at the others. He'd pull out the first photo, but this one was for him. Katsuki stared at the picture until his Mom called out for him. He opened the drawer and placed the picture down.

You received a text. The message was from Homura asking to hang out. You quickly type yes and run downstairs. "Mom, Dad, I'm going to hang out with Homura" you look at your father who, only shook his head. "I feel that we are on the same page, so just think you know what I want to say." you laugh, "Come on, he's nice." Your father shrugs, "Whatever floats your boat" your Mom rolls her eyes, "Come home before dinner." she enters the kitchen. "No kissing." your father yells as you leave.

#boku no hero fic #mha fanfiction #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #dadzawa #no quirks au #modern settings au #killer bakugo #aizawa worries about you #erasermic #slight angst #secret identity #3 alternate endings

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spencessmile · 3 years

Text

Halloweenie

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary - Spencer starts Halloween decorating a bit too early.

Warnings - None

Word Count - 722

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and/or post it without my consent.

Feedback and Comments are welcome. Happy reading!

A/N - I was supposed to post this on Halloween but I never ended up so I’m posting it now otherwise it’ll just sit in my drafts for months and I won’t delete it because I’m so attached to everything I write. So enjoy!!

Requests are CLOSED!

“Babe,” You called out as you drop your overnight bag on the floor. “I’m home!”

“In the living room!” You stepped into the living room and were surprised to see boxes spread out across the living room. “Hi,” Spencer greets you with a kiss, “How was girls’ night?”

“Oh,” You chuckle. “It was great!”

“I’m glad,” He smiles popping open another box. “Want to help me?”

“What are we decorating for?” You ask.

“Halloween,” The words flew out of Spencer’s mouth so casually but you just stood there looking at him. “What?” He asks, pulling out red and black streamers.

“Babe it’s only the end of July!” You exclaimed. “My birthday hasn’t even passed.”

“Y/n, there are less than 80 days until Halloween. Actually, to give an accurate and correct estimation there are only 68 days until Halloween. That’s not enough time!”

“Not enough time for what?”

“To do all the pre-Halloween rituals.”

“Babe, listen to me,” You put a hand on his shoulder. “It is way too early to be putting up decorations for Halloween.”

“What! No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“When I was little my mom and I used to put up decorations way before July. We’re still so late this year.”

“Spence even if you put these decorations on the first week of October, you’d be early.”

“First week of October? Are you crazy?” Spencer exclaims.

“Crazy? Spencer, you’re the one who’s putting up Halloween decorations in July.”

“When did you start decorating for Halloween?” Spencer asks.

“I used to put my de-” You paused because the truth was you stopped putting up decorations after you moved out of your parents house and start living alone.

You can hear Spencer gasp. “You never put up Halloween decorations?!”

“I won a pumpkin carving consent every year,” You argue back.

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Well, I wou- I’ve just always liked Christmas better.”

“Halloween is so much better than Christmas.”

“Is it though? Halloween is only a one-day thing. You dress up and answer the door to give little kids candy. When it hits November and it starts to get cold, everyone starts to go to Christmas markets, and they put up their Christmas trees, Christmas shopping begins, everyone just stays home and watches all the cheesy hallmark movies and it’s the holidays so everyone is in such good spirits and you get to spend it with the people you love.”

“You can also celebrate Halloween for a whole two months with the people you love. You can watch scary movies at any time throughout the year. Imagine watching Christmas movies in March, it isn’t right.”

“Who car-” You stopped midsentence knowing this isn’t a fight you want to start because you aren’t going to win. “Do you need some help?” You end up asking.

“That’s the spirit! Grab those pumpkins we’re going to carve them.”

Four hours later, your whole living room was filled with black, orange, and purple streamers, fake cobwebs with spiders, lanterns, some fake tombstones near the fireplace with some carved pumpkins, which took two hours to carve including the pumpkin seed fight you and Spencer ended up having.

“It looks perfect!” Spencer exclaims, handing you your phone. “Take a picture of it.”

“You take it.”

“I don’t know where the camera icon thingy is,” Spencer replies as he beams at the decorations. You chuckle as you take a couple of pictures and send them on the BAU group chat.

Spencer wraps his arms around you and bumps his nose with yours, “Thank you for helping me decorate.” You bump his your nose with and smile, “You’re absolutely crazy but I love you.”

I never want to stop making memories with you - Pierre Jeanty

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #bau #bau x reader #bau x y/n #bau x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds masterlist

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thecrownnet · 4 years

Link

October 3, 2020

Series four of The Crown takes on Princess Diana: exclusive pictures and interviews Charles has found a wife, Andy’s got a racy new girlfriend and Thatcher’s coming for tea... Megan Agnew gets an exclusive tour behind the scenes of the most wild and lavish series yet

Lasers. That’s what helped Emma Corrin understand Princess Diana in the latest series of The Crown. When the cameras were rolling, she imagined that lasers were pointing at her, as if she were in a spy film or a bank heist drama. It was her way of imagining hundreds of people staring right at her. Lasers helped her with the iconic Diana head tilt. She pretended she was shying away from them.

Corrin could also draw on her own trajectory as a 24-year-old actress. Before landing her part in The Crown, she was an unknown. Suddenly “there’s a huge amount of pressure”, she says.

When I visit the set at Winchester Cathedral, which is pretending to be St Paul’s, the paparazzi arrive to catch Corrin pretending to be Diana. She’s dressed in a replica of the outfit they papped at the actual royal wedding rehearsal almost 40 years ago. Every time she moves between buildings and trailers, Corrin has to be shielded with umbrellas. Life imitates art imitates life.

youtube

Almost every person Corrin has spoken to since getting the role has their own “Diana moment” — they might once have waved at her car in the street, been a pupil at a school she visited or knew someone who sat next to her at a dinner. Diana was one of the first celebrities to whom people laid claim. “Everyone has this ownership,” says Corrin. She was, and still is, the People’s Princess. But Corrin is trying not to think too much about it. Public expectation has been “overwhelming since the beginning”, she says. She wants to do Diana “proud”. “I know that’s strange and cheesy, but I feel like I know her.”

Emma Corrin as Princess Diana/ NETFLIX

The first television series of The Crown, which aired in 2016, was at the time the most expensive in history. Each series since has been estimated to have cost upwards of £50 million. The first two covered the first decade of Elizabeth II’s rule to wide acclaim, but series three — in which Her Majesty Claire Foy was succeeded by Olivia Colman — had mixed reviews. “The jewel in Netflix’s tiara has lost its shine,” said one. It was “okay”, said another.

Now, with series four’s reported £100 million budget eclipsing the Queen’s own sovereign grant last year of £82.2 million, The Crown is barrelling straight into the Eighties era of celebrity glamour and modern party politics grit. Peter Morgan, the show’s creator, is taking on two of the most controversial public figures of the past 50 years: Princess Diana and Margaret Thatcher. “The word ‘iconic’ is overused, but in the case of these two women quite justified,” Morgan says. Both have passionate fans and detractors. “Writing them was a bit of a high-wire act, but it was exhilarating.”

We meet Diana as a teenager, scampering around her huge family home in Northamptonshire. She is young and apologetic. The Prince of Wales, at that time dating her eldest sister, is rather distracted. A number of years later, Diana is leaving her relatively modest flat in Earls Court and her job as a nursery school assistant to move into Clarence House — but finds herself in solitude. Bored and lonely, 19-year-old Diana rollerskates down corridors to Duran Duran and sits all by herself in her chamber. One night, after finding out about Prince Charles’s affair with Camilla Parker Bowles, she gorges on puddings and makes herself vomit them back up.

Behind the scenes: the latest series of The Crown/ NETFLIX

*Spoilers*

It is a dark moment that Corrin wanted to get right. She listened to real-life accounts of people who had suffered from bulimia and talked with experts from the eating disorder charity Beat. Diana herself said that it was the most “discreet” way of harming herself: “Everyone in the family knew about the bulimia,” she said in recordings from the 1990s later made into a Channel 4 documentary.

“Drawing on my experience,” says Corrin, “not that I’ve experienced that kind of self-harm, but mental health in general, it can lead you down a very dark path when you’re struggling to cope, when things feel out of control. Diana very much doesn’t have the love and comfort and attention she needs from the man she loves or the family, who aren’t really acting as a family to her. There is a build-up of emotion she can’t deal with and making herself sick is a way of taking back control.”

When Josh O’Connor, who plays the Prince of Wales, first read the script for this series he thought: “Oh God, how can Charles be like that to Diana? But he feels wronged. He feels like she has an addiction to the spotlight,” he says. “I have to feel sympathy for him in that world. This is a family who have an intense inability to be emotional and he has inherited that awkwardness. In this series there’s an awful lot of Charles trying to explain himself and not being allowed to. He’s trying to say that if he can be with Camilla, then at least two of the three people can be happy. As it is, there’s three miserable people.”

The Crown works differently to other shows in that the “writers’ room” is not made up of writers but researchers, who constantly feed back to Morgan, the king of The Crown. It means that for each word eventually spoken on film, there are pages and pages of briefing notes. Annie Sulzberger, head of research, started this series by hiring a young team. “I wanted people who did not grow up believing one or the other [Diana and Thatcher],” she says. “You have to be curious enough and ignorant enough, I suppose, to write the kind of work we need.”

This series will span the Thatcher years — 1979 to 1990 — and will include the assassination of Charles’s great-uncle, Lord Mountbatten, by the IRA, Charles and Diana’s wedding, and the Falklands War. Once the team has laid out a timeline, Morgan picks out the events he wants to feature. The research team starts to hone in on each, getting increasingly “micro” in their investigations. In the making of this series, one of the team spent two weeks researching the label on a bottle of wine from which a character briefly swigs.

Dress rehearsal: Josh O’Connor and Emma Corrin act out Charles and Diana’s wedding run-through/ NETFLIX

As the show has progressed, the fact-checking work has multiplied, thanks to the tabloid journalism of the 1980s. “It’s not just about words being printed,” Sulzberger says, “but who wrote it. Diana will become very close with a journalist called Richard Kay and feed him information, and Charles’s team will do the same. So you need to start unpicking the biographies of all the writers in order to know that what you’re doing has some objectivity.”

Did the team speak to any of Diana’s family or friends? “No.” Do the producers give any material to the Palace to see beforehand? “No. We have no connection to them that would result in editorial shifts. These are real people, these are real stories and we are filling in the moments that aren’t recorded — private conversations, moments of reflection, philosophical moments.”

When I ask Morgan if it’s true that he meets high-ranking courtiers four times a year, he is keen to clear up that he doesn’t. “I have never had any discussions with anyone actively working at the Palace,” he says. “The two worlds, the royal household and The Crown, exist in a world of mutual deniability, which I’m sure is every bit as important to them as it is to us.”

Corrin, though, did speak to Patrick Jephson, Diana’s private secretary, who appears as a fictionalised character in this series. “I got a sense of her joy from him,” Corrin says. “He said she was so naturally happy. When she joined the royal family, she had come from living with flatmates in Earls Court and she was a very normal girl. Patrick said she was still full of that girlish silliness, very down to earth.”

The couple themselves at the real thing in 1981 MIKE LLOYD/SHUTTERSTOCK/REX

The executive producer Suzanne Mackie says that “particularly now” The Crown team feels a sense of responsibility “to living people, people’s children, people’s parents. Obviously what we don’t do is engage on a fact level with the royal family. We have a tacit understanding that they need distance from us and we need distance from them.”

It is a cold day in January and I am watching Charles and Diana’s wedding rehearsal in Winchester. About 75 per cent of the show is filmed on location around the world, over the course of seven months. The rest is filmed at the show’s base, Elstree Studios, just north of London.

Today in Winchester Cathedral there is a crew of 78 and a cast of almost 200. The sight is as epic as the show’s budget would suggest. Between takes, Corrin sits on the stone steps by the altar, scrolling on her iPhone with one hand and biting her fingernails on the other. Even before the clapperboard snaps shut, the resemblance between her and the princess is uncanny.

Sidonie Roberts, head buyer and assistant costume designer, has a timeline of photos of Diana covering the wall of her studio at Elstree. Roberts is devoted to the cause. She travels to Paris to buy buttons from the same shop the Queen’s dressmaker uses (it sells more than 30,000 types of button) and to Soho to rummage in basements for fabric. Last year she was in a Bangladeshi fabric shop in Brick Lane, east London, when she saw a roll of material right on the very top shelf. “It was still in its plastic, but I just knew — that’s Diana’s colour,” Roberts says. She got a ladder, climbed to the top, pulled down the fabric and bought it for £3.50 a metre. When Roberts got back to the studio at Elstree, she unrolled it and saw a stamp at the bottom: “The Lady Diana Collection, made in Japan.” Roberts did some research. It was real silk, from a collection made in the princess’s honour.

In the corner of the studio an assistant is gluing tiny pearls to Diana’s flat wedding shoes. She has been decorating them, exactly like the originals, for a day and a half. “We’ve had a long conversation about the size of those pearls,” says Roberts. David and Elizabeth Emanuel, who designed Diana’s original wedding dress, donated patterns to the show, which were used to make the new version. With its 25ft train, it took ten people to get Corrin into the dress. In the show it is seen in full, and only from behind, for no more than 15 seconds.

Paying their respects: Olivia Colman as the Queen and the rest of the royal family at the funeral of Lord Mountbatten/ NETFLIX

Corrin is masterful at inhabiting Diana’s coyness — hunching her shoulders towards her ears as she walks, the smirk, her intonation. Diana’s voice was the “polar opposite” of the royals’, says William Conacher, The Crown’s dialect coach. “She moved her jaw twice as much, so her voice was more forward, open, easier to access, and I don’t think it’s especially revelatory to suggest accessibility was her shtick,” he says. “She used a minor key that made her seem vulnerable. Despite the Queen’s and Prince Charles’s accents being ‘stiffer’ to listen to, I think it comes entirely naturally, whereas I find Diana’s voice more studied. I think she spoke to have an effect.”

What sort of research did Colman do for series four’s Queen? “Yeah, I don’t do research,” she says when we speak on the phone in the summer. “The research team on The Crown is a bit like the British Library. It’s extraordinary, and when they kick in, your computer can’t really cope with the amount of stuff they send you.” Was there something in particular that the team sent her that made things click? “No.” There is a longish silence. It seems Colman’s royal duty is waning. “They’ve got every image and film of the Queen ever made. I’ve also got three kids, so I can’t spend all my time going through all of it.”

As she wraps up a second series of The Crown — Imelda Staunton will take over for five and six — Colman knows that she would “really not like” to have the Queen’s job. “There are very few people who are forced into a job and have no choice about it,” she says. “She’s done it with dignity, for decades, bless her. It’s amazing.”

The funeral of Lord Mountbatten took place in 1979 BENTLEY ARCHIVE/POPPERFOTO/GETTY

If there were rumours of Elizabeth II being unhappy about the last series of The Crown, I can’t imagine she’ll be too chuffed about this one. Series four’s Queen is colder and more distant, and the effects of her duty on her children more obvious: Charles is heavy with melancholy, Anne feels unheard, Edward is portrayed as a spoilt bully and Andrew is dangerously arrogant.

Speaking of Andrew, there is a subtle nod towards recent events. At one point the prince discusses a young American actress he is dating. The actress had recently played a 17-year-old who must entertain several “old predators who seduce the vulnerable, helpless young Emily”. The real prince dated the actress Koo Stark in 1981, who had starred in The Awakening of Emily, which had a near-identical plot.

In series four, the pivotal relationship between the Queen and Margaret Thatcher begins well. They are respectful of one another as no-nonsense working mothers, but tensions arise — not least, over tea etiquette at Balmoral.

In preparation for her role as the Iron Lady, Gillian Anderson met Charles Moore, Thatcher’s biographer, as well as secretaries who worked with her. “The only way for me to go about sitting inside of her was to find the reason behind her actions — growing up, what she learnt from her father, how much she truly believed that she was the answer and as long as we all took the sour medicine now we’d be able to turn around this country, completely shutting her eyes to the people that she was turning out on the street.”

Anderson eventually “settled into” the body of Thatcher. “She walked very fast, always up ahead,” Anderson says. “She would power forward in front of presidents. With [Ronald] Reagan she would supposedly be alongside him, but was walking ahead. Always walking ahead of [husband] Denis, telling him to catch up.”

Thatcher’s barnet also features. In one scene she spends an asphyxiating four seconds hairspraying it in preparation for a showdown with the Queen. The hairdo took endless camera tests before Morgan was happy with it. “It essentially meant destroying it so it had an overprocessed ‘frothy’ quality,” says the hair and make-up designer Cate Hall. “To treat a wig so badly was against all of our instincts — they’re so expensive — but I’m grateful now that we went through the process with Peter, with him saying no, more, it’s not right, try again.”

Clash of the titans: Margaret Thatcher, played by Gillian Anderson, is filmed meeting the Queen, played by Olivia Colman, in a memorable scene from series four/ NETFLIX

Series five will have a whole new cast. Colman says she is “not the sort of person who keeps the shoes of a character they played 20 years ago”. But Helena Bonham Carter is going to miss Princess Margaret. “She does pop out [in everyday life],” she says. “The other day I was at some public event and there was the normal scramble of people and I just told them, ‘No, shut up.’ The finger came out, which is very her, and I said, ‘Shut up and wait. Don’t get hysterical.’ So I’ve got the bossy side of her.”

Originally Morgan said there would be two more series after this one. Then he changed his mind, describing series five as “the perfect time and place to stop”. Now there are two more again (“To do justice to the richness and complexity of the story,” he reneged). The show is creeping closer to the modern day. It is now said to be ending in the 2000s, spanning, perhaps, Charles and Diana’s divorce, the deaths of Diana, Margaret and the Queen Mother, the marriage of Charles and Camilla, and the teenage and twentysomething princes. “I want to end it close enough to present day to feel that we have completed a long journey and distant enough to feel historical,” says Morgan. “I have a specific incident in mind, but until I’ve actually written it and seen if it works, I can’t commit to discussing it.”

On set with Mackie, I mention Harry and Meghan. “Too often,” the couple posted on their Instagram page that month, “we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring.” Is it possible, I ask Mackie, for the royal family to humanise themselves while still justifying their existence as something mightier, more important, regal? “That’s where you go wrong, as a public figure, letting light in on the magic, especially as a monarch,” she replies. “You have to be an ideal. After years and years of that subjugation of self in order to put duty first, you, the essence of you, is buried somewhere. The Queen is a tiny little person inside many, many Russian dolls.”

Series four of The Crown is available on Netflix from November 15

#olivia colman #helena bonham carter #gillian anderson #the crown #the crown spoilers #tobias menzies #josh o'connor #emma corrin #princess diana #ben daniels #erin doherty #emerald fennell #charles dance #marion bailey #the crown netflix

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

Final Bets

Summary: Alejandro enacts his daring plan to get You and your daughter free and clear. But will things end the way he thought they would, when he foist came when you called?

Warnings: Some violence, cursing, and the attendant and You are both female.

Final one. THANK YOU for reading this. And special thanks to @hnt-escape for being amazing, talented, and putting up with me. (Also for creating the collages.). Her awesome poem is here:

This time, he knew who was on the other side of the door when someone knocked on it. He opened it up, resolved, serious, a little nervousness building, coiling inside his stomach.

The front desk clerk. Looking equally resolved. He nods, tosses the key on the bed, and shuts the door.

“You remember what I told you?” He pulls over in an alley, dropping her off in a blind spot so there’s no record of them together. Casablanca rises like a debauched king over them, not too far a walk. He hands her an envelope. She nods, shoves it away. He takes her chin gently. “If it looks dangerous, if there’s even the tiniest bit of danger…run. Nothing’s worth your life.”

She nods again, smiles. “You can depend on me.”

“Take your cut before her daughter gets there, leave the bag, and split.”

“You don’t trust her?”

“I didn’t raise her.” He says, looking at the rearview mirror, watching now, always. “I could have been…not biologically, I was out of the picture, then. But if she needed help, I would have come. I always made sure she had a way to reach me.” He shrugged. “So, her kid doesn’t know me…why would she trust me? And that means I…we…can’t trust her.”

“But you trust me?”

He smiles at her, and nods. A bit like he’s surprised to admit it.

“Alright.” She gets out of the car and he reverses down the alley, finds a cruddy lot where the cameras are probably broken and parks. Pays the guy at the kiosk cash. Reviews what your daughter told him about security protocols. Hope you were right, that the whole staff had grown soft, because people were too afraid to try and steal from the Casablanca so the guards were really more show than tell.

Every step, he has two things going on in his mind. Mentally he’s estimating where the attendant is, sees her enter the casino just ahead of him, so he slows down, resets the timer in his head. The other thing, of course, is looking for you.

He told her daughter, on the phone earlier, not to let you know. So when you look at him, at first just a security guard in a trim suit looking for danger, then realization as to who he is warms your eyes and there’s a softness to your face for a moment before the mask slips back into place.

He’s wearing a white shirt and black pants, and the red jacket again. He know he smells of chlorine and bad decisions.

But still, he makes his way over. Watches a craps game but does not wager. Cashes the 5,000 chip out. Thinks. She left the gift shop by now. She must be at the elevator. Now she’s on the third floor. Now it’s the restroom. Let’s give it a moment, in case someone is in that stall…

He buys one 100.00 chip. The teller didn’t want to give him something so low, but he just stood there and smiled, with his biggest, sharpest smile, tacky sunglasses hiding his eyes, changing the shape of his face.

He plays the roulette, the ultimate wheel of fortune. Wins, which is annoying because he knows he doesn’t have time to cash it in, so he dumps in on the tray of a nearby waitress and finishes his approach.

“I’m sorry.” He says, when he gets close enough.

You frown. “For what?”

He sticks his hands in his pockets. Casablanca was one of the casinos that still armed their guards. The gun was casino property, logged in and out.

“Everything. I wish. I should have gone with you. I should never even have left you for any reason at all.”

You’re scanning the room, trying to stay composed, but he can see it, a flicker here and there of emotion.

In his head, the elevator dinged. She’d be leaving, making her way to the doors. The loot in a brand new bag.

“I could stand here all day and apologize. But it won’t matter.”

“Why not?” Did he hear a little desperation, a little longing? Or was he hoping to hear it?

“Because of this.” He grabbed her wrist, slung her roughly around, his right hand yanking her gun out of its holster. Left arm around her, pressing her to him, right hand shooting in what he hoped was a civilian safe direction before pressing it to her temple.

“I am so sorry sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear.

“What do you want?” you scream. “Let me go!”

He doesn’t want the guards to think heist. He doesn’t want them to think money, or danger to the casino. He wants the other guards to think there is just one problem, and it is right here. He wants confusion.

“We’re going outside and you can tell the moon and the stars to stop talking to me!” He screams. “I am so fucking sick of them talking to me!”

He starts pulling you back, ranting and raving, into the men’s room. No cameras, and one of those that was positioned with two sets of doors.

“Run on through, and start screaming.” He says, shedding his skin, shoving the red jacket into a bin. “Your daughter will text you the meeting place.”

The guard ran in only a second later. They look at the messy haired man, hands up, thick rimmed glasses, blue tee shirt.

“He took her that way…through the other door.” His voice is completely different, thick Spanish accent, soft and timid and very afraid and completely non threatening.

The guard kept going. Alejandro adjusts his glasses, takes one more look at himself in the mirror, and leaves the restroom, flowing through the crowds. Worried over you. Hoping you were shedding your skin, too, coming out the other side safe.

There you were. Hair down. Suit coat off. You were wearing a white shell, arms bare. You winked at him, and then the crowd took you away, just as they started, finally, locking down the casino. He made it out, barely, and kept walking.

He pulled out of the parking lot, and she was there. The attendant. He stopped, smiling up at her, and she took something out of her bag. A smaller purse. Tiger stripped gold leather. She hands it to him. “To go with your shirt.” He opens it. 500,00 dollars, probably, give or take.

“Is this?”

“Your share. I don’t trust her either.”

He tucks it under the seat, behind his legs. “You know,” he says, contemplatively. “If we go left, we could go off, become private eyes. I think you could probably buy your way in to a very new practice.”

She leans on the door. “And right?”

He grins up at her. “How do you feel about moral ambiguity?

“I don’t know.” She’s smiling a little now.

“Or…I could drop you off at the bus station. Then you’d really be free.”

She came around to the passenger side and got in. He started driving away, not wanting to draw any more attention by stalling.

“No to the bus station,” she says after a bit. “Can I think about the other two?”

“Absolutely. You have time…I need to drive us somewhere first. Make sure of something.” He clears his throat. “If you don’t mind?”

She shakes her head. “Does it have to do with the note you asked me to give her daughter?’

“Yeah. Go ahead and sleep.” He says. “It’s a long drive.”

He’s sitting on the edge of the pool, tee shirt and shorts, clean shaven. He looks like no one he’s ever been before. His legs are in the water, and rose petals swirl around. The one place you’d be able to find easily. If you wanted to.

“How long should I wait?” He asks her. She’s lounging on a lounge chair, reading a book on basic private investigation. She hasn’t told him, right or left, yet. He doesn’t mind waiting. He can live a long time on half a million dollars.

“How long did you give her?”

“Twenty four hours.”

“Give her at least 48. Maybe even 72. She might have gotten caught up.”

He shakes his head. “She got clear. Her kid texted me.”

“Alright. If we don’t hear anything, we’ll check out the day after tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” He captures some of the rose petals in his hand.

“Will you…will you be miserable, if she doesn’t come?”

He grins over his shoulder at her. “No. I won’t be miserable at all.”

She returns his smile, holds up the book. “Left, then.”

Thanks to @sharkbait77 and everyone who commented and showed support.

#instyle #Hope #Pedro Pascal #My Fic

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simp-for-spencer-reid · 3 years

Text

Sugar with a Side of Coffee- Ch. 1: The Chance Encounter

Chapter 1: The Chance Encounter Series Masterlist

Cate tied her yellow apron around her waist as she prepared for her first day at the mobile coffee cart. The Empty Mug was a small, family-owned coffee shop located in the midst of a busy Quantico, Virginia. They had decided a new way to increase business would be to take it to the streets, with a coffee cart. The shop was starting to hit its busiest hour of the morning, the pre-work rush.

“Oh, thank God!” gasped Marta, daughter of the owner of the shop. “You’re just in time!” Marta quickly handed a customer their change and hustled to the backroom where Cate was fixing her name badge on her chest.

“Couldn’t miss my first day manning the new cart.” Cate smiled at her favorite coworker. The two girls hauled the cart out of the storage closet, which proved to be a feat in itself as it came with a lofty umbrella, the same yellow as their aprons. As they neared the storefront door, a customer on their way in held the door. “Thanks.” Cate pushed out, she couldn’t wait to get the cart outside where she could just wheel it.

Once on the sidewalk, Marta wished Cate goodluck and hurried back into her parent’s coffee shop, to tend to the rest of the customers. Cate shoved the large umbrella into a socket on the top of the cart, and began to set up her station along the busy road.

Despite being surrounded by enormous buildings and skyscrapers, the streets and sidewalks were still quite sunny. Cate wished she hadn’t forgotten her sunglasses in her car. She felt like she was squinting at each customer as they gave her their orders. The umbrella did little to help with the sun, but Cate still had it up anyway, she found that the big yellow parasol attracted more customers.

Cate saw a variety of people along her street. Many people in suits briskly walked by, some stopping for their morning coffee, it was more convenient to stop at the cart than actually inside for some. Most of these people in suits would be simultaneously talking to their bluetooth ear pieces or their cell phones while they ordered from Cate.

The only people who hadn’t been on the phone while placing their order were young interns grabbing their office’s coffees for the morning. Her most common intern was Brooke, who was punctual with an order of four drinks: a latte, a hot black, an espresso, and a decaf. Upon her arrival at exactly 8:45, Cate had her orders ready in a tray. Brooke smiled a thanks.

“I’d stay and chat, but there’s a new project we’re working on and our graphic design team really needs this.” She gave a company card to pay and plopped a five in Cate’s tip jar. “Catch ya on my break!” And with that, Brooke just about jogged off, taking care not to spill any of the coffees on her way to her building.

One of Cate’s favorite things to do was memorize her usual customers’ orders. She took pride that she could have a customer’s coffee prepared as she saw them in line. Cate estimated that she knew about twenty different customer’s orders since she started a few months back. Working in The Empty Mug was something that Cate not only enjoyed, but also made great tips from, especially if she put up with some flirting from businessmen. That in itself is partially the reason she memorized orders; to rush the flirtatious businessmen along and keep their interactions short and sweet.

Cate watched as a short, stout blonde walked up to the cart with her thick, red rimmed, cat-eye glasses. She had a cell phone in hand but was starting to read a large order to Cate.

“Okay, hi, I have a lot of orders so I hope you’re ready for it!” the blonde started. She took in a big breath, “I need a cappuccino, and macchiato, a latte with dairy free milk, a large hot with extra extra extra sugar, a medium hot regular, an espresso, and a medium hot black.” She exhaled.

“Coming right up,” Cate smiled. “Do you need those labeled?” Cate grabbed a marker, just in case.

“Oh, yes please,” She smiled graciously. “The cappuccino needs to be PG, the macchiato EP, the latte JJ, the large extra is SR, the regular is AH, the espresso is CT and the black is DR. Thank you very much!” Cate pushed buttons on her register.

“Your total comes to 14.68.” Cate was handed a twenty and the blonde insisted on putting the change into her tip jar. “Thank you, I like your glasses.” Cate smiled.

“Thanks! Bought them on the web.” Cate handed the blonde customer two drink trays and watched as the blonde carried one on top of the other.

“If you spill those on your way, just come see me and I can make you new ones.” Cate said nervously. She wasn’t supposed to do that, but it was a lot to carry for one person.

“Noted,” the blonde smiled, and bustled off to whatever job she was off to.

Penelope just about flew out of the elevator and into the bullpen. Emily helped set the top tray of coffees down onto the desk next to the copying machine.

“They’re all labeled with your initials!” Penelope exclaimed. “From the new coffee cart station, part of The Empty Mug.” Emily was twisting the cups, looking for her initials.

“CT?” Emily questioned.

“Chocolate Thunder.” Penelope huskily replied, passing it to Derek, who had walked up to retrieve his order. Spencer quickly approached the desk, and plucked the biggest cup from the tray, knowing he had the largest order of the bunch.

“This coffee might just be the best I’ve had.” Emily said after she took a sip of her macchiato. “We should try to order from here more often.”

J.J. was walking in and grabbed hers before beelining to Hotchner’s office. Hotch called a meeting to discuss the next case, and just like that the unit sat around the round table drinking their coffees from their new favorite shop.

It was just about 1:30, a half hour before Cate was meant to close her cart and head back to the shop to finish her shift. She tied her hair up into a ponytail at the back of her head, instead of half up like before. The sun was making it hot standing on the busy street. She moved around to the front of her cart to put away the chalkboard menu sign. She twisted a lid back onto her tip jar and knelt to check her stock of creamers, and sugars and flavors on a shelf. Cate would have to make a note to restock her sugar jar. Between all the typical sugar in a coffee and that large coffee which might as well have been a cup of straight sugar, her typical supply had been depleted.

“You know the cart was very convenient.” Brooke mentioned to Cate, scaring her in the process. “The line was a lot shorter than going into the shop.” Brooke smiled, leaning her elbows onto the cart. Cate stood up, adjusting her apron and pushing her hair out of her face.

“Well I’m glad to hear that.” Cate was still fussing with the different coffee pots on her cart shelves.

“Need help bringing this bad boy back to the shop?” Brooke was already grabbing one side of the cart.

“Yes, please!” Cate exhaled.

Cate came home with almost one hundred dollars in tips, her half of the split tips between her and Marta. She just about ripped her shoes off at the door, letting them thud to the ground as she greeted her small, light orange cat. Changing out of her uniform, and into some leggings and her college sweatshirt, Cate could take a quick nap before cleaning her apartment.

As soon as Cate had laid down on her couch, her phone chimed, alerting her of a text message.

Marta: tell me you don’t have plans friday night

Cate sighed before typing her response, I should finish up my lesson plan project, but I have a feeling you want to go out.

Marta: it’s like you can read my mind… let’s go down to the pub and celebrate the new cart :)

Cate’s phone beeped again.

Marta: Pleeeeeeeease??

Cate laughed to herself before typing back, You’re lucky I love you.

Cate stretched as she woke up for another early day working The Empty Mug’s coffee cart. Her little orange cat, Shrimp, stood by her side, watching her intently with his green eyes.

“Let me guess,” Cate pet Shrimp’s head, “Your bowl is empty.” Shrimp mewed up at her, and jumped off the bed and scurried to his food in the kitchen. Cate followed her little cat to the kitchen. “What would I do without my personal, fuzzy alarm?” Shrimp impatiently rubbed his head against Cate’s ankles. Cate grabbed his cat food from her cabinet, and put three scoops into his bowl.

Cate let Shrimp crunch away as she walked back to her bedroom. She pulled out her usual uniform, which consisted of a white button up, her choice of black or tan pants, and the signature yellow apron. Taking this pile of clothes into the bathroom, Cate ran the hot water to the shower and brushed her teeth.

After a refreshing shower and changing into her uniform, Cate grabbed her purse and put her shoes on in the makeshift mudroom bench in the hallway of her apartment. Making a quick run to her kitchen to grab an apple from her fruit bowl, she snatched her keys from the counter and was out the door.

Typically, Cate would take the stairs from her third floor apartment, but decided to take the elevator today. There was something in the air today that made Cate feel unusually on edge. The walk to The Empty Mug went by faster than normal, most likely due to Cate’s quick pace. Upon her entry to the shop, Marta gave Cate her usual smile.

“Ready for your second day?” Marta said cheerily. No customers had entered the store yet, so Cate and Marta could take their time bringing the cart from the back of the shop.

“I’ve had a weird feeling this morning.” Cate confessed. “I can’t shake it.” She pushed the cart through the door.

“Oh,” Marta furrowed her brows. “Want to switch? I’ll take the cart and you can have the shop?”

“No, no. That’s okay.” Cate sighed. “I got it.” She forced a smile. Suddenly, she remembered, “Shit, I need to refill the sugar before I go out!” Cate ran behind the counter and grabbed an unopened canister to refill the jar once at the location.

“Alright, well, text me if you need me.” Marta shrugged. The girls successfully got the cart and umbrella out of the front door before any customers managed to come by.

“Yes, captain!” Cate laughed and made her way down the street to the spot designated for the cart. She set up the umbrella, positioned her chalk menu- not before jotting a coffee pun on it- and knelt to refill her sugar behind the cart.

People jostled by and before she knew it, Cate was in the middle of the morning rush just as she was the day before. As she was behind the countertop of the cart, she heard a man’s voice.

“Are you open yet?” he sounded in a rush. When Cate peeked up from behind the cart, the man was looking at his phone, fingers typing away on some text or email, she guessed.

“Yes sir,” Cate brushed her hands on the sides of her apron. “What can I get for you?” She smiled, even though the man hadn’t bothered to look up from his phone.

“A large regular, and a danish” he spoke, nose still in his phone.

“You got it!” Cate said in the most unnaturally cheery voice. She prepped his coffee, and pulled his danish from under a glass cover. “Comes up to 4.18” Cate pushed buttons on her register. The man shoved a five at her and walked away without his change. Cate put it into her tip jar, hoping the rest of her day would be filled with better customers.

Today’s shift was getting better and better. Brooke stopped by earlier with the same promise of stopping by later on her break. Customers had overall been tipping well, Cate’s jar was getting fuller and fuller. The line of customers would deplete as Cate took their orders, but as soon as it dwindled, more people lined up. On the lower end of a swell of customers, Cate had a few new faces. Next up, was a kid in his late teens. His fingers jittered along the counter top as he rested his hands on the cart.

“I’ll have a medium cold brew with an almond swirl. Can I also get a slice of banana bread?” Cate smiled and nodded. When Cate turned her back to make the coffee, the teen made a grab for the tip jar and began running off.

“He’s got your tip jar!” the next woman in line yelled. Cate didn’t know what to do, this had never happened before. Her hands began to shake and she felt tears of frustration build in her eyes. You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought.

There was another man behind the woman who leapt into action and started chasing the thief. Cate watched as they ran through the opposite direction of the current of people on the street. The man in pursuit shouted.

“FBI, stop running!” The thief’s gait faltered. This gave the agent just enough of a stride to grab the thief by the collar of his jacket. “Drop the jar, and I’ll pretend I never saw anything.” the agent ordered. The thief shoved the jar into the agent’s hand and took off running.

Cate swiped her teary eyes with the back of her hand before the agent could approach her cart. She was shaken up and didn’t know what to do or say.

“I believe this is yours.” the agent handed Cate her glass jar filled with money. He was tall, with long hair. Cate gently took the jar and placed it behind her counter. No amount of money was worth risking that again.

“Uh, thanks” Cate said shakily. “You really saved my ass, there.” Cate tried to joke. The agent pursed his lips together and went back to his spot in line. The woman before him thankfully had a short and sweet order, allowing Cate to relax her racing heart and thoughts. The agent stepped up next in line. “What can I get for you? It’s on the house.” Cate smiled at him. “Can I, uh, get a medium hot black but can you put it in a large sized cup so I can put my own sugar in it?” He looked nervous for requesting such an odd order. “Of course, not a problem” Cate got to work filling a large hot cup about three quarters full. She handed the agent his coffee and also the sugar dispenser. In the same exchange, he passed her a ten dollar bill. “For the wasted order, and a tip.” He smiled nervously at her. Cate placed the ten in her register, and watched as he poured about half of the sugar into his coffee. “I remember your order.” Cate spoke before she realized she thought out loud. “Pardon?” he looked quizzically at Cate.“Sorry, yesterday someone came by and ordered a large hot with an insane amount of sugar, I just refilled today and you’ve already gone through half of it. You might as well just order a cup of sugar with a side of coffee.” Cate rambled with a smile. “Um,” he paused, lost for words. “Sorry.” he came up with.“It’s fine. It’s meant to be used, right?” Cate felt herself blush. So that’s S.R. she thought to herself.

#sugar with a side of coffee fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

Text

In My Mind x 05

Firm foundations and sturdy hands

still crumble under tyranny

---

"Where exactly are you taking me," you slur through toothpaste, spitting it in the sink before rinsing. It's still early, 8:45, but he's fast, putting on clothes in his room while you take the bathroom.

"Well you need clothes, I ain't forget."

"And hair products, a curling iron, satin cap, my own body wash," you add using his mouthwash. It's good he has extras of the basics. The bathroom door is cracked so he can walk in and hand you a stick of deodorant which you jam under your arms and set in an empty drawer with your toothbrush for your own. "Okay, v-neck come through."

Full business casual, he comes up beside you in the mirror brushing his shaved sides down and you walk out to put your shoes back on, wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

The way out of the building is just as smooth as the way in. You take a staircase to a display where his glossy burgundy BMW sits with tinted windows and custom tags.. his trophy.. and then you get in. He presses a button and you sink through tinted glass looking out at the view until you reach ground and the wall goes up behind you allowing him to back out onto pavement.

"I'll never get over that," you mumble looking through the side mirror to watch the opening shut. His own private entrance. A 'sky garage' he called it.

"Nia.."

"Hm.."

"What do you think about Black Wall Street?" He's driving somewhat normal now, only six miles over the speed limit and you haven't felt like you were going to fall through the door yet which is a plus.

"Black business, black mecca."

"It's been the pinnacle of black successful business. If you look at Tulsa, Jackson Ward, Durham.. We were at the height of self-sufficiency. We had bankers, builders, mechanics, electricians, cooks, shoemakers, tailors.... hairstylists. Anything you needed, you'd get from your own people and it worked! We were putting money in each other's pockets and building wealth with each other, taking pride in our blackness instead of tryna be the third white race... you know Asians are the second."

"I was with you until that last one."

"Nia, you know what happened to all them cities?"

"They were destroyed."

"By who? Did we destroy ourselves?"

"Boy. Who are you, Dr. Umar?"

"That's what you think?"

You touch the small black, red, and green beaded necklace with the wooden brown carved Africa pendent sitting in his cupholder.

"Umar Johnson is an ignorant misogynist who uses his platform to spread false information while robbing his followers. That's what you think of me?"

You blink. "No, I only meant the superwoke part."

"Unlike him, I have a Ph.D and I don't think AIDS came from gay black men, but it was intended to decimate the black population."

"I get it, don't compare you," you mutter watching the Oakland city views through your tinted window. People are out, strutting and power-walking on sidewalks and jogging across streets to work.

"Who destroyed our black wall streets?"

"White people," you sigh giving him what he wants.

"Never forget that the US National Guard united with White Nationalists in 1921 to bomb and shoot up the Greenwood District of Tulsa. They destroyed 35 blocks of self-sufficient black business, murdering an estimated 200 people and injuring more. This is what happens when you and I pull ourselves up by our bootstraps in this country. Jackson Ward? Socio-economic assault. They built a highway right through it and put their own businesses around it to undercut our efforts. They chased us out and sent us to housing projects then filled them with drugs. You see where I'm going with this?"

"I think I'm starting to."

"Nia, you've seen my dreams, you've seen where I've been. I've stood on both sides and seen firsthand how easy it is to infiltrate and decimate an entire city, a region even with the right intelligence and firepower. Hell, I've even pulled the trigger and I'm not proud, but it was a necessary evil for me to see that it doesn't matter how strong you build or how pure your intentions are. When a government decides that you've surpassed the ceiling of poverty they've designed specifically for you they'll wipe out a generation, drug you up, and restart you from zero. Do you understand how deep this goes?"

You finger the beaded necklace in your lap. Of course you understand everything he's saying, but what he's expecting from you is a different story and you won't agree to anything prematurely.

"Where's the end," you ask. How will he know when he's accomplished this great mission he's been on for most of his life? It's all he breathes. Will he even survive without the fight as his purpose? Keeping your silence, you watch his profile as he turns left.

"Africa. Africa was the start and it'll be the end, but in the meantime we need to provide legal and physical protection here, major city by city. We need safe houses, secured and armed.. built to withstand the force of a nuclear weapon."

"How will you manage that?"

"How long will it take is the question." Pulling up to a building standing among other buildings, this one is as big as a high school with lettering across the front reading Wakandan International Outreach Center. Temporarily, you put the fact that you're supposed to be shopping to the back of your mind. You've heard of this place on the news, but somehow you didn't put this together. He parks in front of some well manicured bushes in a space marked for the CEO.

"You're the CEO?" You look around at the cars in the lot, the WIOC bus, and to the people walking inside.

"You ain't know? Ms. See Everything?"

"If I saw everything, I'd have figured this thing out between us. Don't ya think?"

He steps out and adjusts his tie. He's got the grey v-neck sweater vest, the white collared shirt underneath. The navy chinos.. and the navy oxfords.

Getting out, you spin showing off the same outfit you've been wearing and his brows raise subtly as you walk in beside him. Immediately he's rushed with greetings from the three people at the front desk, two guys and a girl, all wearing black WIOC shirts with blue and purple lettering that reminds you of a 90s paper cup pattern. Very stylish and retro.

The girl with the baby face and two long feed-in braids, is reaching out, grabbing your hand to stamp with some sort of mallet which he gently blocks with two fingers on her wrist before it makes contact.

"Shakila, this is an affiliate," he stares. The girl straightens, backing up meekly and the guy to her right.. the one with a rougher feel and a troublesome glint in his eye can't be over 21, you guess. He rolls out from behind the desk and you see he's wearing all black roller skates with orange and green swirled wheels. They look custom.

"72 people in the building, boss, counting you two. Ghost and Slim out patrolling, say we gotta bluebird.. 5-0 campin at Fuller's they up to something but they been quiet..up there since about 8:15 this morning."

"Keep watching. Let me know if anything changes."

"Yezzir." He rolls off down the hall and makes a right, disappearing.

"Donnie, how you doin," Erik asks the man who's been reading a magazine, chillin. He's bald, light skin, and looks over 40. He's also as big as Erik! His muscles make his t-shirt took like a muscle shirt, it's tight, but it seems more of a personal style choice than an issue of not being able to get a bigger shirt.

Erik taps the desk before continuing down a short hall that splits into three and you walk alongside him, making a left when he makes a left and passing two young boys in the hall.

"An affiliate?"

"They thought I was bringing you in for assistance," he clarifies and your face scrunches. "But you and your salon might be interested in becoming affiliates after I give you the tour."

"Really? Wow.." This thing with him just keeps getting stranger.

"This is the women's dorm," he stops in front of a large expanded room, a space filled with about.. "Twenty beds, ten bunk beds. Forty women can sleep here with their kids. They call and we hold the spot or they show up and take it. That's all the beds we could fit in there but I'm thinking of expanding. The men's dorm is on the other side of the building. Don't worry, we have security. No incidents yet. Further down," he leads and you follow him down the clean tile hall. He takes you into another opening that says locker room.

"It's like a YMCA in here." You turn looking all through at the rows of lockers with actual locks, the showers, four toilet stalls, four sinks.

"There are 60 lockers, eight showers, eight stalls, eight sinks, two washers, and two dryers."

"Y'all water bill high." Looking back to him, he smiles and nods for you to head out into the hall again as you follow him. "This place is nice, if I didn't have my apartment, I'd try to stay someplace like this."

"It's our safe place for homeless kids and families or just people who need a place to be without having to look over their shoulder, wondering where their meal coming from or who's after them."

Pausing, you look around and Erik stops. This place is beautiful. He's even got the babies' art hanging on the walls making the place warmer.

"You good?"

"Yeah.. You know, I'd actually love to be affiliated with this place. I wanna donate. How do I do that?"

"I'm glad you asked, Nia. Keep walking with me. Let me show you the rest," he smirks, speeding up as he unlocks a door with his handprint that lights up blue.

"What the hell," you mutter staring between him and the door.

"Staff only entrance. Extra measure to keep the women safe on this side, if you wanna leave or come in, there's one way and you gotta get through security, that way you're only back here if you're supposed to be.

"Makes sense."

Through the door is another hall that's perpendicular to the one you just left. You follow him left and come to a large open cafeteria full of people sitting at tables, eating. Men, women, small children, teens, all black for the most part. There is a sprinkle of darker skin that isn't black. A mother with three young kids and then an old man.

"How do you get away with only taking black people? Isn't that 'discrimination'," you ask with air quotes. Not that you take issue with it, you're just curious. He laughs.

"When the colonizers come we just tell them we don't have the space and if there's an issue we have Donnie escort them out. We don't get governmental assistance, we're not required to run how they think we should run. We screen everyone who comes through and take who we think will benefit from our programs.

"Wow, I'm with it," you smile following him to the food line.

"Gone 'head baby," the older woman in front of him waves for you both to go ahead. He puts his hand on her back and kisses her cheek and the line ahead happily parts like the red sea letting the both of you through with a quickness. They love him. They genuinely love him. They also all have stamps on their hand. One woman is trying to pull her stubborn toddler aside and out of the way, but Erik sweeps him up and sits the boy on his hip, winking at the woman before passing you a white dish and grabbing two more.

"What you want lil man," he asks as he goes through each option fixing two plates. One (sausage links, grits, eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, pancakes, fruit cup) for himself and one (sausage links, bacon, eggs, pancake, fruit cup) for the kid.

Choosing a table, you sit with your plate (some of everything because it looks good) and Erik follows, sitting across from you with the kid and the two plates.

"I'll get the drinks," you offer heading back to pick up two glasses of apple juice, making it to the table before returning for one more glass and three straws. You pass them out and take your seat, mouth watering and ready to eat.

"Bow your head and close your eyes, please." You lower yours and wait.

"I don't close my eyes." He lowers his head and you say the prayer as the toddler reaches into Erik's plate grabbing one of his sausages. Erik doesn't look up but he shakes his head with a slow smile and you try to keep from laughing as you finish saying grace.

"Amen," you snort picking up your fork.

"This why I keep my eyes open," he points to the kid, shaking his head in humor. He sets the boy in the seat and hands him a piece of his own sausage. Looking over, you see the mom approaching with her plate and an apologetic smile.

"Lord," she sighs. She's pretty though she looks tired. "I'm so sorry, he's a handful, I know."

"Not at all," Erik smiles. She sits next to her son and he automatically starts pulling on her, saying "mama, mom, mommy," just busy, so she pulls him onto her lap to keep him still. They're both cute and remind you of Lia and her son, Jackson.

"This is Chyna.. and Orion," he palms the boy's head playfully. "Chyna, this is Nia," he nods digging into his plate.

"Hi Nia," she smiles and you reach out to take her hand, asking how she is. She's great but ready to eat, she laughs and for a while you all just focus on eating.

"Mommy," Orion starts and you understand 40% of what he just said. His mom entertains him with hums of "Really? Oh wow," as she eats, feeding bacon into his hands.

"You here for a job," she asks looking up and it's an innocent question.

"I'm here on tour of the facility, just lookin-"

"Nia is an affiliate and potential shareholder. We're in discussion," he interrupts.

"Oh okay..," Chyna's eyes widen. "So you're getting a feel of the center. Let me tell you why this place is so important," she says all humor gone.

"Me and my son have been here for the past few nights.. a few nights before that.. and then maybe a week prior." She looks to Erik and he nods.

"His father, Rashaad," she continues, gesturing to her son, "He died last month and didn't leave a dime. I talked to his family and my family and they told me I could sign over his body and the state would cremate him," she pauses, still in shock from it. "...But I couldn't do that..." Tears leak from her eyes and you look around for a napkin. She swallows, her eyes turning pink, and takes a breath. "Then there was the rent.. We hadn't paid it for the month and our extension was running out," she sniffs. "Well I had a funeral to plan, I couldn't let the state take him."

Orion, feeling her sadness, rubs her face to try to make her feel better and she tries to pull herself together.

"So ah-" she wipes her nose. "I took a chance and contacted the Wakandan International Outreach Center and they not only paid for the burial and the coffin, they sent a representative to the funeral for words of encouragement and I'll never forget that," she sighs. Erik keeps his eyes down to his plate.

"See, his daddy.. was a hood," she continues, eyes dead on yours. You know what she's talking about. You don't have to grow up in Cali to have family in the streets. "He was shot out there in the streets in a driveby...," she sniffs. "And you know.. people like to talk a lotta shit, but even if he wasn't nothing to nobody else, he was someone to me. I loved him."

"We're working on getting Chyna a higher paying job to cover her rent," Erik interjects giving her time to wipe her face.

"Yeah, they paid the rent for the month and they're paying next month. I'm taking the class on building a resume now. I'm still working at Ross, I'm just trying to do everything I can.

"You're doing a lot," you offer and Erik gestures for you to stand to follow him out. "It was good to meet you and hear your experience," you smile shaking her hand.

"Thank you, and I'm glad you're trying to help. We need more people like him," she points to Erik.

"Shit, don't boost me," he smiles. It's something he's done a lot since he's been here and you've noticed that his smile is something that brings so much peace and a sense of safety to these people. Still, looking at him you can see deep down there's a spot in him that isn't touched. It's full of rage and intense sadness that his smile can't cover. If only the peace he provided to all these people would reach him.

@thickemadame @just-juicee @kenbieeereadss @honeytoffee

Previous Chapters:

#in my mind #original #erik killmonger x oc #erik x reader #erik killmonger x black reader #erik x oc #erik killmonger x reader #black panther killmonger #killmonger #killmonger x reader #killmonger fic

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