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bobathirstaccount · 10 months

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AU - Business Trip Pt 5

You meet the new sales exec at a company offsite…

Boba x fem!reader, smut

***

-i have 2 change my flight 😔

You frowned, but weren’t surprised. You text your friend to let her know. It had been a full hour since you two had said your goodnights and headed up to your rooms. She was probably asleep, but you needed someone to talk to

-that’s too bad - how is the PP coming?

-it’s ok. I have some help so that’s been nice. Maybe 1 more hour.

You looked at the clock. It was late. Who was the help? Miss BP? You furrowed your brow.

-oh that’s cool u have some help. I think i’m going 2 fall asleep soon. Gnight 🌚

-night princess

You grinned at his response, and found it hard to sleep.

***

Your alarm blared. Slightly hung over, you groaned and checked your messages after snoozing it.

Your friend was awake already.

-i’m eating! I feel Alive today! Come join me when you’re up ♥️

You text back to give you 20 minutes. Then you read the other text you had. It was a marketing text. Dammit. You showered and got into your traveling clothing. Going down, you text both Boba and your friend what you were up to.

Making it to the table, you sipped your oj and black coffee. “Lemme tell you, I needed either 1 less drink or 2 more glasses of water last night,” you lamented.

She laughed, “You have a bit of a pallor. But not too bad. So tell me, any News?”  ”No,” You downed your oj for the sugar rush.

“Fuck. Well he’s probably heads down on his PowerPoint, you know.”  ”He said he had help last night, who do you think it was?”  ”Oh my gosh, don’t go down that rabbit hole… probably like the CEO or something since it seems like a big client.”

You thought of Miss Beauty Pageant. Looking around casually, you didn’t see her. You checked the time. “I gotta go back to my room and pack; I have 30 minutes until I need to catch a shuttle to the airport,” you complained. You hugged your friend goodbye, “Let’s have a friend-cation soon!” You hurriedly took the elevator to your room.

As you packed, you decided texting him one more time was not, in fact, desperate.

-im leaving in like 10. Let me know how the presentation goes. I’m sure it’ll be amazing ✨

-ty princess, c u in CA

His reply was immediate. You tried to be casual about it but you could barely focus on getting yourself to the airport.

*** Your plane had just landed. You sat nervously, waiting to be told you could turn your airplane mode off. Would you have a text waiting from Hot Guy?  Your phone pinged several times. Twice was your friend. One was your neighbor. The last was. Yes. You clicked into Boba’s messages. He’d sent you several over the course of your flight.

-about to start. Hope flight is good

-ok, here i go… 😬

-ok it was fine. We’re sending the contract 2 legal to redline…. I think we have a huge sale coming in

-should make u bean counters happy 😃

-im omw to ✈️ now… late flight

-thinking of u. I like those pix you send me, u know

You tried to Be Normal, but ended up making a little squee noise to yourself. You decided to formulate a response and focused on deplaning. In the Lyft back home, you finally text a response.

-hope ur in the air now. Im omw home in lyft… tired!

-still @ airport.having drinks w some of my team who are randomly here

You thought of Miss BP. Surely, not.

-cool! But sucks your flight still isn’t even boarding

-ikr. I wish we had been on same flight!

-me 2

-let’s make plans for lunch. Send me ur availability

The two of you landed on the following Sunday. You would have brunch at a very cute restaurant you sometimes went to. You were extremely excited to take him there.

-u’ll like it

-bet. Ok, now i need to head to gate. Talk later!

-bye

-bye princess

***

You growled at your stupid LinkedIn feed. Miss BP had posted a selfie of herself and Boba at the airport… having drinks. It was allegedly in celebration of a “big win.” Fuck. Dammit. You tried to tell yourself that he’d made brunch plans with you, not her. Well, at least that you knew of. Where did she live? You sleuthed and found she lived in SoCal. Damn. Too close. You viewed her LinkedIn profile in Private Mode. She had an impressive resume, which only made her more annoying. Okay. You put your phone down. Time to relax about this.

But you couldn’t. You found her Instagram and facebook. She had posted the photo on these platforms as well. Annoyed, you text your friend to commiserate. She consoled you.

-bitch. Who does she think she is? He’s urs anyways. You already laid claim

Had you? You text Boba in a fit of uncertainty.

-hi. Still on for this weekend?

You smiled at his immediate response.

-yup. How u doing? Recover from the offsite yet?

You laughed.

-yeah, lol. U?

-mostly. Working too much to have time to think about it. That new client is really demanding, but gonna be a big win for us. Tell u more over brunch xx

You grinned and set your phone down. Then you picked it up and text your friend again.

-he text me “xx” that means something right?

-yes bitch! Send him another 🌶 pic to remind him the hot stuff he’s dealing w

You considered it. You weren’t really a big selfie person, but it suddenly seemed like a noble cause. Okay. What to wear. You dove into your underwear drawer, looking for something sexy.

***

You sat primly, drinking your mimosa. You had arrived 20 minutes early out of excitement, but it’d been worth it. You got a table with an ocean view. As you waited, you casually launched your plan. You sent the spicy nude you’d worked on for 30 minutes the other day. It had come out nicely. You hit Send and waited.

-hi. Imma crash my car if u send me another one of those

You grinned. Perfect.

-ok send me another 1

Your grin grew wider. You sent your second favorite pic.

-ur 2 sexy. Im parking. Running over. Can’t wait 2c u

You smiled mischievously and sipped your beverage again.

***

You sat back in your car seat and did a small scream. Just a small one. You had aced lunch. And now you had a weekend date.

“Hi,” Boba had snuck up behind you and was kissing your cheek before you knew it. Smiling very widely, you giggled a hello. He sat as you sipped your mimosa, trying to compose yourself. He picked the second mimosa off the table. “I see you’re ready for me? So, this is what brunch is all about?” You clinked glasses gently with him.

“Yup,” you said before you both took a sip.

“So,” he settled in to his seat and picked up the menu. “That’s a nice outfit, but it’s not the same as the one you just sent me. Is that one… underneath this one?”  You smiled mischievously, “You’ll have to see if you can find out.”

He grinned, “I intend to.”  Just then the waiter came up to see if you were ready. Boba ordered easily, choosing a traditional omelet and a latte. You got your favorite meal, which the waiter said was the best on the menu, in his opinion. You smiled politely as he took both your menus.

“So, what’s the deal with the new client?” You asked, debating if you should initiate footsie.

“Oh, that’s boring, let’s talk about something else…” He sipped his mimosa.

“Hmm, okay, well I guess I’ll see soon enough, on paper anyway,” you joked. “I do see all the invoices that go out, you know.”

He nodded, “So let’s talk about something else. Like, have you ever seen The Birds?”  ”The one with Audrey Hepburn? Yeah, my parents let me watch it as a kid and, well… long story short I was terrified of my Gramma’s parakeet after that.”

He laughed, “Sorry, that’s terrible. Okay, forget I said that. Do you like quaint towns?”  ”Yeah? Like the one we’re in already?”  ”Quainter.”  ”Oh?” You challenged.

“Let me prove it to you. I’ll show you. Come with me up the coast next month sometime.” He sat back as his meal arrived. You thanked the waiter as he set your food down in front of you. But then you considered his words and got hot. You sipped your ice water to recuperate.

 “Yeah, okay,” you said after a moment, “I’m down. Where should I make a reservation?”  ”I’ll take care of everything. You just have to come.”

You smiled shyly, feeling spoiled already. “Okay, how many days am I packing for?”  ”Like, 3? Can you take a Friday off? We can leave Thursday evening and stay until Sunday.”  You agreed immediately and pulled out your phone. You were going to Lock This In. You pulled up your calendar and set it on the table. Starting to eat, you asked about specific dates. “Whenever you want, I get 1 flex Friday a month that I can take off.” Boba offered you some of his omelet, “Try this, it’s super good…”  The rest of brunch had been spent openly flirting and sharing dessert. The waiter had either made the conscious choice to bring only one spoon, or had forgotten the second one. Either way, you and Boba rolled with it and shared the spoon.

Afterwards, he had walked you to your car. Chatting quietly, you arrived all too soon.

“Well, I’ll see you in two weeks…” He started. You leaned in and wrapped your arms around his neck. He stopped himself short and kissed you softly, pulling you closer. You closed the distance and smooshed yourself into him. He countered by pushing you backwards into your car passenger door. You were content, sandwiched between Boba and your car.

His hands slowly went downwards and then upwards, pulling your dress up slowly. He kissed from your mouth down your throat to your collarbones. His hands kept pulling upward. You felt you skin being exposed to the sunshine and air.

Grinding himself into your thigh, his hand went up your dress and between your legs. “I wanna see if you’re wearing that lingerie set you sent me that pic of earlier…” He pulled your panties down and off you. They fell to the ground. “Hm… looks like they are.. but what about the top?”  He pulled back slightly to unbutton the top three buttons, exposing your bra. “Hmm, yup. It’s the same… that’s really sexy.” He kissed you hard as a hand returned to under your dress, grabbing your bare ass. He used his other hand to undo his pants slowly.

“You want this?” He asked softly, kissing you gently again.  ”Oh please, yes,” You murmured.

His grip turned hard as he slid his cock between your legs. You groaned in desire and impatience. He coated himself in your wetness, moaning your name obscenely as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“Fuck, princess.” He found your entrance and pushed into you hurriedly, “I can’t wait to fuck you senseless.” He rammed up into you hard and fast, both hands going to your ass as he held you in place.

“Be quiet, or someone from around the corner will hear…” Boba teased you. You tried to keep your moans to yourself as he slid one hand up and yanked your bra down. Grabbing your bare tit, Boba kissed you hard before purring into your ear, “You’re such a good girl for me. Taking me so good… this pussy’s mine. I’ll keep you satisfied.”

You leaned your head back as he kissed your throat. He started fucking you hard and slow, each thrust hitting deep in your pussy. “Cum for me, princess… I wanna feel you cum on me.” Continuing to murmur nasty thoughts to you, he pounded into you, keeping the pace steady and hard.

His strong hands went to your ass, where he squeezed possessively. “Nasty girl, letting me fuck you in public… cum for me so I know you’re mine,” Boba’s voice was a deadly purr.

The fire in your pussy exploded outward, making your limbs weak and your heart nearly beat out of your chest. You came hard, pussy clamping down on him as you whined softly. “Good girl, princess, my gorgeous girl…” Boba fucked you until you leaned forward to kiss him, totally spent. Then he quickly helped you fix your clothing as the two of you kissed gently, murmuring sweet nothings. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his shoulder. Sighing, you were content.

“Get a room!” Someone chided as they walked past. You and Boba both chuckled darkly to each other.

“If only they knew,” Boba said quietly after they had gotten in their car. “Well, I should probably let you go… also I have some work to do for that new client waiting at home…”  You sighed wistfully, wanting more time. But, you reminded yourself you’d have him to yourself for a weekend in two week’s time. You straightened up and tried to sound sensible, “Okay. I got uhm… some chores at home. Hope you don’t have to spend too much time on work; that new client is really something I guess.”  ”You have no idea,” Boba murmured. But he continued in a warmer tone, “Can’t wait to spend more time with you, soon. I’ll be in touch with details. Okay.” He leaned in for one more kiss. You accepted it gladly. “Bye,” he let go and turned to walk away. You watched him go, enjoying the view but having a sad feeling in your chest all the same.

You turned to your car, stooping to pick up your panties. Smiling to yourself, you got in and closed the car door.

#boba x reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba smut #boba fett smut #modern au #au fic

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fairytheo · 3 years

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enhypen as your boyfriend.

boyfriend!enhypen x gen!reader. fluff. 1.9k. curse words. mention of bugs, food. not requested.

🐈 ⸝⸝ HEESEUNG ˙𐃷˙

super-duper caring !!

he’s so whipped for you — he smiles just by thinking about you

also very giggly around you

LOVES lending you his beanies

(aka. you stealing them..)

+ you steal his earrings as well ! not that he minds

absolutely adores singing for you / he loves singing you to sleep :D

hold up, is being heeseung’s s/o just being his personal ramen cook 🤨🤨

he aaalwaays bugs you to play games with him (especially wii and nintendo switch lmao)

either that or you’re playing animal crossing while eating takeout at your dinner table

you’re the only person in the world who he’ll ever do aegyo for.

he secretly enjoys it, but shhh you didn’t hear that from me

i think he likes calling you names like cutie, cutiepie or just a shorter version of your name <3 (if there is one !)

booping your nose is on his everyday to do list ☝️

lowkey therapist & boyfriend in one ngl

WAIT he loves making playlists for you two,,

“y/n! i made another playlist, do you wanna listen to it? i made it while thinking of you.” <//3

the type to write cheesy lyrics about you, then later cringes at his own writing bUT then leaves it like that because you like it !

you have his cover of lauv’s “i’m so tired” either set as your alarm or play it on loop everyday

(random but for some reason i can picture him giving you a cassette with his cover on it just for the vintage vibes)

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAY ˙𐃷˙

the mom-and-boyfriend in one ;]

f a s h i o n c o u p l e

you are literally fashion icons. no disagreements.

you have matching clothes or accessories ! even if it’s really subtle, the gesture behind it is super adorable <//3

cooking pt. 2 :D but this time there’s a gorden ramsay in your relationship

i can just SEE how you both two impersonate gorden ramsay while cooking which makes everything 10 times funnier !! checks every 5 seconds if the food is ready tho because he doesn’t wanna risk anything

never cleans up afterwards, either you do or no one does

since you’re both fashion icons your social media followers are going 📈📈📈

literally couple goals.

he loves taking pictures of you,, but also wants you to take pictures of him

jay gets flustered easily so please make him flustered with sudden compliments, hugs, kisses, etc. !!

he’s also the only member i can really see calling you babe

confident but shy about pda at the same time ??? he’s both LOL

you always tease him with his RAS moments and randomly quote them when you’re in the middle of a conversation with him lmao

random and idk if this fits here, but he likes making your lunch — leaves you encouraging notes too <3

last but not least: jokingly gets angry at you when he wants something from you, and you do the same thing back ♡

🐈 ⸝⸝ JAKE ˙𐃷˙

sweetest and softest boyfriend to ever exist. i’m so soft for him JSHSHS

definitely calls you sweetie and darling. 100%. fight me if you think otherwise.

shows you pics of layla everyday (it’s become routine for him >_<)

a tiny bit cliché BUT lends you his jacket whenever you’re cold (even when you’re inside !!)

random thought: jake puts his hands in your hoodie pockets...

💔💔💔

it’s his personal goal to peck your cheek and forehead at least twice a day — gets pouty if he wasn’t able to do that ))):::

talks in english a lot because you love his accent !!

if you’re an english speaker, you’ll have conversations in english all. the. time.

if you’re not an english speaker, no worries, he’ll teach you !

+ reads you bedtime stories in english (jake’s australian accent >>>)

dreams of travelling with you to australia <33

if there’s a bug in the house you better know that jake will NOT be removing them and runs out of the house

WILL stay over at one of the other member’s houses untill that bug is REMOVED .

so if you’re afraid of bugs as well,,, i’m sorry bae, but it’ll be your task to remove these little... creatures 😐

ngl you have more photos of layla than of him on your phone lol

(spams you with her pictures and captions them with “y/n!!! look!!! layla with a flower!!!! layla with a butterfly!!!!” it’s just so sweet aaa)

we need some “””drama””” so you make jokes about him being a “🥶💸🔥💪” boy a lot in your relationship LMAO

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNGHOON ˙𐃷˙

ice skating dates.

this has been mentioned in other headcanons a lot already but i just HAD to include it,,

convinces you to eat ice cream after your date LOL even if it IS winter

btw. fashion couple nr. 2 !!!

MIRROR SELCAS

ugh the visuals and the power you two hold,,,, i can’t,,,,,

has better clothes than you ngl so you share clothes lmao

it started with him lending you his sweatpants, but then you didn’t want to return them forgot to return them and BOOM 💥 here we are

extremely awkward and shy at first — don’t worry though, he becomes much more chaotic in the later phases of your relationship

he teases you SO MUCH. LIKE. SO MUCH.

always has small smile (smirk?) on his face when he’s about to make a cocky remark (so beware)

you tease him back just twice as hard which 1.) results in him in becoming flustered 2.) fails LOL

off-topic but he’d love a s/o that has a similar style to him ??? a more elegant, classy, dark style perhaps

when he’s away / busy he’ll send you some selcas and captions them with “how r u doing??” “did you eat yet?” “cheer up :P”

kinda shy about pda but likes showing off too ???

i mean,, men... 🙄🙄 /lh

whenever someone mentions your name near him, he’ll just try to hide his smile while biting his lip (yk what i’m talking about???) and you’ll see his dimples and the affectionate look in his eyes and just AAAAA

the type of boyfriend that calls you love~

🐈 ⸝⸝ SUNOO ˙𐃷˙

skin care routines with sunoo 24/7 🤝

he does your hair (if your hair is long enough to do different hairstyles with it ofc !!)

send you daily weekly skin care products he thinks you two should try out / that’d be good for your skin <3

spa nights every friday at 9pm — he only lets you in if you wear a stylish pyjama LOL

you buy him peach items because they just remind you so much of him (｡•́︿•̀｡)

SELCA TIME !!! his phone is always ready !!! (apart from his storage maybe?)

PARTICIPATES IN SELCA DAYS OF YOUR FAVOURITE IDOLS AAA

loves to go on walks w u

does A LOT of aegyo,,

and i know that you knew that this point will be in this headcanon.

for eg. instead of saying goodnight or bye he’ll just do aegyo for you not that anyone minds tbh

stages of sunoo flirting (?):

a — tries to compliment you (it sounds more like a flirty remark tbh)

b — realizes then blushes

c — cringes and runs away LMAO

playfully acts jealous, so you know it’s a joke but deep down he’s actually jealous

you two match each others vibes a lot — if one is sad, the other is sad as well

+ tells you your posture is bad when you sit like a banana or tells you to go to sleep early and when you don’t listen to him, he’ll show you an article that proves that (abc) and (xyz) is bad for you and says “i told you so.” 💀

🐈 ⸝⸝ JUNGWON ˙𐃷˙

impresses you by doing kicks (does the kick cap challenge on tiktok and/or you play kick it by nct 127 for the funzies)

poking his dimple is a MUST . 😩😩

though gets super shy when you kiss him and also if you buy him gifts !!

cheers you up whenever you feel down or are upset

compliments you a ton ))): will randomly come up to you and tell you that your fit is cute or that you look brighter today,,, little does he know it's because of him ;]

HUGS!HUGS!HUGS

poking his dimple comes first, then hugging

the other members tease you two everytime you’re over LOL it’s like there are two koalas clinging onto each other

our yang garden gained another sheep +1

you two randomly play sheep,,,, like,,, everyday ???? sheep cosplays 👍

idk why ig it’s just fun to imitate sheep and go “mmmeEeEeeEhh” to annoy others

talking of that, even THOUGH he is a responsible leader he will not hesitate to do stupid shit with you

“hey how about we ring on that house there and yell “sheep for sale!” do you think they’ll open the door?”

“i don’t know... let’s find out!” 🤝

let’s just say that this didn’t end well..

also kinda bullies you (in a loving way ofc !!) pand teases you nonstop

either calls you asshole or love aHA

in conclusion: a very unpredictable relationship,, would 10/10 recommend.

very random but i feel like his love language is acts of service

🐈 ⸝⸝ NI-KI ˙𐃷˙

oh look it’s our tsundere 😼

can’t go a day without dancing so you two have vibing sessions at 2am everyday ft. the others telling you to go to bed

you’re the only one that can make him soft lol

if you’re older than him, you would definitely take care of him like your own baby !!

if you are the same age as him or younger it’d be awkward for him at first, because he isn’t used to taking care of someone younger, so he’d treat you as if you were his best friend at the beginning

you love to watch him dance !! it’s so satisfying,, LITERAL asmr.

pranks you 24/7. boy has NO mercy. will not care if the others will scold him later. he will do the prank smoothly (?) — doesn’t care about the consequences LMAO

probably sets your alarm to someone screaming or a cringy aegyo song <//3

wants to film dance covers with you !! you don’t have to be the best dancer either !! as long as you have fun ^__^

the other members find you really cute but are also vERY TIRED OF YOU,, two energized teens in a relationship was not a good idea ☝️

likes to randomly hold your hand and swing it around

probably distant at the beginning of the relationship because a.) he doesn’t want to pressure you/make things awkward b.) he doesn’t really know what to do either ???

(if you’re not japanese or don’t know how to speak japanese) he’ll definitely teach you some japanese phrases and words !! introduce you to his culture as well :DD and he really wants to know more about your culture too <3

teaches you phrases like “sunoo is a dumbass” for the funzies LOL

randomly makes micheal jackson impressions,,, it’s hilarious LMFAO

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jackrrabbit · 4 years

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Unprofessional [pt. 1] /// Yandere Tendou x f!Reader

Summary: The new hire you’re supposed to be training at your office job is a little too attached for his own good…or yours. [Part 2]

A/N: Someone requested yandere Tendou and I was like !!! However when I wrote it, it turned out kinda long so I split it into 2 parts; I’ll answer the req when I post part 2. Anyway I’m obsessed with the concept of salaryman Tendou, please enjoy!

Tags/warnings: yandere, timeskip (Tendou is 22-23 in this), workplace/office setting, liberal use of “senpai”, alcohol, Tendou’s crackhead energy is toned down a little bit because of the setting [In part 2: smut, 18+]

You don’t really like Tendou when you first meet him.

Your first impression when your boss introduces the new employee is that he’s all talk and no substance. He’s been hired fresh out of university, and he’s got the stink of a former frat boy all over him—that baseless enthusiasm, chaotic goodwill and arrogance mixed together. That might have been your type when you were still sucking down cheap keg beer from red solo cups, but you’re two years into your career as a real grown-up adult now, and the cockiness that radiates off Tendou in waves is just…annoying.

Unfortunately, when your boss tells you to take the newbie under your wing, train him, and be his mentor, it’s not a request. It’s a demand. So you decide to suck it up. If you’re going to have to spend every second at the office with Tendou trailing after you like a baby duck, you may as well get used to him.

After a few weeks, you have to admit he’s not that bad. Sure, he’s not the best at respecting personal space, but how can you blame him? When he looms over you to reach for a file above your head for the nth time and traps you between his body and the cabinet, you finally lose your patience and snap at him to give you some space, but he looks so surprised and apologizes so sincerely that you can’t help forgiving him. You feel a little bad, even, when he explains that he’s never worked in an office before so he’s not used to all the rules that he’s expected to follow in a professional environment.

You can’t really fault him for that, especially when you’re the one who’s supposed to be teaching him these things. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything,” you tell him, and he perks up so quickly that you feel even worse for chewing him out in the first place.

The thing is, Tendou doesn’t really stop getting close to you once you chastise him. It just bothers you less. The dozenth time his hand lingers over yours while you’re passing him a document or he picks an invisible thread off your blouse or sits a little too close when you’re riding in the back of a taxi to a client meeting, you start convincing yourself that you’re overreacting. He’s probably not being that much more pushy than your other coworkers—you’re just more aware of him because you don’t know him as well.

And it doesn’t help that he’s tall, towering over you and pretty much everyone else in the office. The cheap suits he cycles through can’t quite conceal the hard lines of muscle underneath—oh, whoops. Now you’re the one crossing boundaries. Tendou is so big that you’re just…more conscious of his presence, right?

This is drilled into you one night after a marathon overtime session when you’re carrying a tall stack of boxes back to the archives. Maybe it’s because you’ve been at work for 11 hours, but the files feel like they’re filled with rocks, not paper. Your muscles are this close to giving out when Tendou appears out of nowhere to pluck the files out of your arms. “Here. Gimme, gimme, I’ll take ‘em.”

The way he carries the heavy boxes so effortlessly makes you kind of embarrassed at how much you’d struggled with them. “You’re pretty strong, hm,” you say absently. Oops, was that inappropriate? You don’t want him thinking you’re hitting on him or something.

“Oh—yeah I guess?” Tendou’s laugh (the one that used to grate on your nerves) sounds like he’s pleased with himself. “I go to the gym a lot.”

“Wish I could find the time. Or the discipline,” you reply as he replaces the file box in the archive room.

“Wow, senpai is calling me disciplined. My heart is pounding.”

His tone is sarcastic enough that you don’t think twice about the second part of his statement. “Don’t get too full of yourself. If you have the energy to go to the gym, you should spend that time double checking your expense reports before you submit them.”

“Ouch.” Tendou holds his hand over his heart in mock betrayal. “Targeting my weak points, how ruthless. But seriously, working out is second nature to me. Been doin it since I was a kid so it doesn’t take any kinda discipline.”

“Oh? Did you play sports or something?”

“Yeah…” Tendou’s voice trails off and when you pause from your task of organizing the files to look up at him, he’s staring directly at you. “…Used to play volleyball. Grade school through college.”

The way he’s looking at you, searching your face for something you can’t identify, makes you think this is more important than it seems. You tip your head to the side, waiting for him to continue.

“Our team in high school was pretty good,” he says slowly.

“That’s cool,” you say, turning back to the paperwork. “Did you ever play Shiratorizawa? They’re my old high school—I think their volleyball team went to nationals back in the day. I was never into sports though.”

A moment passes, and you frown. Did you say something wrong? But just before you’re about to change the subject, Tendou starts laughing. “Shiratorizawa? No, I don’t think I ever played them.”

Your laugh joins his a second late, although you don’t know why he thinks it’s funny in the first place. In the echo of your voices, you can hear how quiet it is in the archives. There’s something here you’re missing, but you’re not sure what.

Luckily enough, the somewhat awkward atmosphere doesn’t carry over to the next day. When you get into the office, Tendou is his usual clingy self, distracting you from your own work to ask you to teach him something and pulling you away when you’re talking to your coworkers so you can double check his emails before he sends them. If anything, he’s more attached than usual—when you go to a contract renewal negotiation with a client he insists on tagging along, so you let him after making him promise not to get in the way.

Of course he doesn’t keep his promise, but you end up appreciating his intrusion more than you could have predicted. The client is stubborn and rude until Tendou chimes in (much to your dismay, at first) with an offer to add on some oddly specific perks to the contract. You’re already practicing your apology speech to the boss in anticipation of losing the client, but to your amazement he agrees to Tendou’s terms and the deal is sealed, along with a healthy bonus for you.

You’re on cloud nine, practically skipping out of the building with Tendou at your side as you fantasize about what you’re going to do with the bonus after you split it with him. A weekend vacation out of the city? An online shopping spree? Some fancy dinners at five-star restaurants? Knowing you, the money will end up going straight to your savings, but you still can’t contain your giddiness. “How did you know he wanted that add-on? Seriously, I had no idea!”

“A guess! I’m good at reading people.” Tendou’s just as elated as you, pumping his fist and whooping like a kid as soon as you’re away from the client’s earshot. “Woohoo! Yay! Our first sale together!”

“A guess? You risked that huge contract on a guess?” You roll your eyes but you’re too excited to be mad at him. “Anyway, you don’t have to say ‘our’ first sale, I know it was all you. I’ll tell the boss you’re doing a good job.”

“No way, it’s ours! Both of us. Me and senpai.” Tendou’s hand reaches down and his fingers lace with yours, squeezing so tight his knuckles go pale.

The thrill of your success flickers as nervousness sets in. Is he holding your hand? “Tendou—“

“Senpaiiiii~” he says in sing-song, swinging your hand as you walk to meet the taxi and ignoring your meek attempts to pull away. “Didn’t I do a good job?”

“Y-Yeah. Good job, Tendou.”

Work friends. The two of you are work friends. Your boss passes all comments to Tendou through you (mostly things about how he’s good with clients and charismatic but needs to stop making minor errors on paperwork). When one of you is sick, your coworkers ask the other to pass on their good wishes. Tendou fits into his role at the office seamlessly, and you can’t say you don’t appreciate the fact that all of his good work is reflecting well on you.

So when his birthday rolls around two months after he’s hired, it’s up to you to plan the office drinking party (only after he complains to you about how he doesn’t have any friends since moving to Tokyo). You have the date you got from Facebook—May 20th—circled in red pen on your private calendar along with a little doodle of a birthday cake.

“What’s that?” asks one of your coworkers, pointing to the circle, as you flip through your agenda a week before the event.

“Tendou’s turning 23,” you tell him. “It’s a Friday, so some of us are going to go to a restaurant and drink a little. You’re coming, right?”

“Oh…yeah.” Your coworker scratches his head and clears his throat. “You guys are pretty close, huh. Um, I actually wanted to ask—you’re not together, are you?”

A chill runs up your spine. “Together? Who said that?” If this rumor gets around to your boss it’ll kill your career. These things always look worse for the woman than for the man. God, it was probably something Tendou said without thinking, he’s always talking about you and someone could easily misinterpret all that praise…

“Well, if you’re dating—“

“We’re not dating,” you say quickly. “We do a lot of work together because I’m training him, but it’s not like that.”

“Really?” Your coworker straightens and smiles. “Cause I was actually thinking of asking if you wanted to go out this weekend—“

“Senpai? Can you help me with this draft?”

Damnit, it’s Tendou getting in the way at the absolute worst time—especially considering he just had to come up behind you and put his hand on your shoulder. Seriously, how many times do you have to tell him to stop doing that when you’re talking to someone else? You’re not sure whether to be irritated at him for cutting your coworker off, concerned that the other man won’t believe what you said about you and Tendou having a strictly professional relationship, or relieved that you don’t have to give an answer to what sounds like an offer for a date.

You cast an apologetic glance at your coworker and make your way over to Tendou’s desk, hoping against hope that the interruption doesn’t look too suspicious. You’d die if word got around to your boss that you were dating your mentee.

///

You’ve got this office drinking party thing down to an art. Step one is to load up on greasy appetizers that’ll increase your alcohol tolerance, step two is to drink plenty of water, and step three is to pour yourself a single drink early and take small sips.

There’s a step four, too: make sure no one else’s glass get’s below the 1/4 mark. Your boss and coworkers are a lot less receptive to how little you’re drinking when they’re all nice and tipsy. It’s a system you’ve perfected over the years, one that allows you to have fun with people from the office without risking making an ass out of yourself or getting a hangover (which, at 25, is a lot more unpleasant than it used to be).

You can’t count the number of times you’ve witnessed the awkward drunken escapades of your fellows, which range from the endearing (your boss crying over how much he loves his wife) to the awkward (coworker makeout sessions) to the potentially criminal (bar fights. So many bar fights). You’re happy to remain a neutral observer, and tonight is no exception.

The only problem is that Tendou hasn’t yet mastered the art of drinking lightly when you’re around people you work with, so now, at the end of his party, he’s (for lack of a better word) trashed. His cheek is mashed flat to the restaurant table like it’s glued there and his head is surrounded by progressive rings of bottles and cans. It’s some kind of miracle that he hasn’t yet gone to the bathroom to get sick.

“Sorry Tendou,” you sigh. “I should have been keeping a better eye on you.” You had no idea he’d get so drunk so quickly. Aren’t tall guys supposed to have high tolerance or something?

“Sssshenpaii,” Tendou slurs, hoisting his head off the table with that looks like Herculean effort. “I liiiike when…when ya look at me…”

“Ha, ha,” you say sarcastically.

Tendou’s head whips around. “Where’d everyone go?”

“They all left—now it’s time for us to go home too. Come on, I’ll help you get to the taxi.” You pay the bill (oof, there goes your petty cash for the week) and pull on Tendou’s shirt sleeve to get him to stand up. Luckily he’s just sober enough to realize what you want him to do and he follows you out to the street with an arm draped over your shoulders to steady his meandering footsteps.

The real trouble comes when the two of you are seated comfortably in the cab and the driver asks for Tendou’s address, which, apparently, he can’t remember. You do the sensible thing and look through his phone, but his own contact card provides no hint to where he lives in Tokyo, only a phone number, email, and address in Sendai which has to be his parents’ house—

Wait.

Tendou’s from Sendai?

You’re from Sendai. You didn’t know he was too. What a coincidence that both of you moved to Tokyo from Sendai. You’ve mentioned your hometown to him a couple times—how come he never told you he’s from the same place? You’re only two years older than him; maybe you’ve run across him in Sendai before the two of you started working together.

Now that you think about it, his face has always been kind of familiar…you thought it was just ‘one of those faces’, but…?

This isn’t the time to wonder, though. You poke Tendou gently in the side, careful not to jar him enough to risk any stomach upset. “Tendou? Do you remember what street you live on?”

After a long pause Tendou names a street, but it’s your company’s address which isn’t located anywhere near a residential district. When you tell him to think harder, he grimaces, lips pulling back to bare his teeth. “Don’ wanna go home…lemme sleep over at senpai’s house.”

“What? You can’t stay at my place.”

“Why noooot? ‘m tired,” he drawls, eyes closing as his head droops onto your shoulder in the back of the cab.

“It’s—it’s inappropriate—wait, no-no-no-no don’t fall asleep,” you tell him desperately but it’s already too late. A light snore filters out of him and you curse. “Tendou—“

“Address?” the cab driver barks insistently, giving you the stink eye in the rearview mirror.

Shit. Well, it is his birthday, you have a pull-out couch, and it’s not like anyone from the office is around to see you going home together. Tomorrow morning you’ll just have to give him a lecture about professional boundaries and make him promise not to breathe a word of this to your boss.

You give your own address to the cab driver. Tendou sleeps peacefully on your shoulder throughout the entire drive, rousing only when you whisper his name in his ear outside your building (which is a miracle, because you know without a doubt that you’re not capable of carrying him). When you get up to your apartment, you deposit him on the sofa bed and tell him not to look through your stuff while you brush your teeth.

Obviously, he doesn’t listen to you. When you emerge from the bathroom, Tendou is standing in the middle of your living room and turning the pages of an old photo album of yours.

“Hey, give me that.” You try to pull it away from him, but he doesn’t let go and his grip is stronger than yours, so the album remains firmly in his hands. “If you’re sober enough to mess with my things, you should go home.”

“This is senpai, right?” Tendou says, pointing to one of the photos.

Despite your exasperation, you lean in to take a look. It’s a picture from high school with you and some friends, all of you wearing your Shiratorizawa uniforms and grinning cheekily at whoever took the picture. Your fingers are cocked up in a peace sign. “Yeah? That’s me.”

“So cute…senpai is really cute…” Tendou’s long finger trails over the edge of your face though the filmy plastic covering the photo.

“Um…you need to get to sleep,” you say nervously, pulling a little harder on the album.

He doesn’t budge, instead just flipping back in the album to older pictures from when you were little until he stops at a photo of you and your younger brother in grade school. Against your better judgement, you frown and look closer to try and pick up whatever caught his interest in this particular image.

“How old…?” he asks.

“I don’t know, 10 or 11 maybe?”

Tendou nods. “When I met senpai…you were this old, yeah.”

“Jeez, you’re really drunk. We met two months ago, remember? I was on the interview board.”

“Yeah.” Tendou’s gaze is glued to the photo. “I was so sad, ‘cause senpai doesn’t remember me. But also really happy to see you after such a long time…I thought it was a dream…”

“Hm? I don’t get it.”

Tendou finally looks up from the picture and meets your wary gaze with those wide red eyes. God, you used to think his face was so creepy—lately you find his zealousness endearing, almost childlike, but right now? It’s making your feet itch how much you want to step away from him. “I was really hoping you would remember on your own, but I guess I’ll have to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“How me an’ senpai met…”

Are you imagining it, or does his voice sound a lot less slurred than it did just 20 minutes ago? “You’re not making any sense.”

“Shh, just listen…your little brother played volleyball when you were kids, didn’t he?”

How did he know that? You nod hesitantly.

“Yeah…he was in my grade. He was a bad kid, y’know that? Always saying mean things to me.”

It’s true. Your brother’s always had a mean streak in him.

“He used to call me a monster. ‘Cause, y’know—“ Tendou taps a finger against his face. “Guess I look weird. And my name, too. So he said he didn’t wanna play with me. Demons can’t play on human teams. Every day, saying cruel things. I really hated him.”

Monster. Volleyball. Your little brother. Tendou Satori like the mind-reading spirits from folklore. Something’s coming to mind, a memory you haven’t thought about in years—no, decades.

Your little brother making fun of another kid. A tall kid with red hair in a bowl cut.

“I-I remember,” you stammer. “I came to his practice one time and you were there, right? That bowl cut kid was you. I got mad at him for calling you names and I yelled at him. That’s when we met?”

“Correct!” Tendou’s beaming like you just told him he won the lottery instead of recalling a random fifteen-year-old memory. “You made him let me play! I got to get on the court, and block him, and see his beaten face looking up at me. All because of senpai.”

You can play this off, you think to yourself. Tell him you’re sorry for how your brother treated him. Ask him why he never told you that the two of you have met before. Say something. Anything. But your mouth is too dry to let you speak.

“And, you know…” Tendou’s voice softens and a light blush dusts his cheeks. “I thought you were so cool. I couldn’t believe you were related to that jerk. Can I…tell you a secret?”

No. Deep down you know what he’s going to say, and you don’t want to hear it.

Tendou’s hand comes up to comb through your hair, gently pulling through the delicate strands next to your face and tucking them back so he can lean in and whisper into your ear (even though there’s no one else around). “I like you, senpai.”

Stop it. Stop it. Your blood feels cold in your veins.

“I’ve liked you ever since then. I used to wish we were in the same grade so I could be your friend and talk to you every day. Whenever we were in different schools I missed seeing you in the halls and hearing your voice when you spoke to other people.”

“Stop...stop talking,” you whisper, but Tendou continues like he didn’t hear you.

“Why’d you have to go all the way to Tokyo for college? In my third year at Shiratorizawa I studied for your school’s entrance exam forever, but I didn’t get in. Was too busy with volleyball, I guess.” He pauses. “Oh, by the way, I went to Shiratorizawa. I lied about that, sorry. But—seriously, d’you have any idea how hard it was for me when you were away at university? Not seeing the person I love for six years?”

Love, he said. You feel nauseous. “Tendou, you don’t—“

“Let me finish, okay senpai? You don’t know how much I’ve been through. Always having to respect your ‘personal space’—“ he frames the phrase in mocking air quotes— “when I need to touch you so bad I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

And then he’s hugging you into his chest, crushing your torso into his. You struggle and try to get him to let you go, but Tendou is so much stronger than you.

“You’re not that different from your brother after all, are you?” he hums into your hair. “You’ve been torturing me. You know how you lean over my desk when you show me something on my computer? I can…see down your shirt when you do that. And I smell your perfume. I spent two hours at the mall trying all the different perfumes so I could find the right one…thought my nose was gonna stop working! But don’t laugh—“

You’re not laughing.

“—the salesgirl looked at me funny but I got it eventually. Chance Eau Fraiche, right? I can’t believe how expensive that stuff is, what is it made of gold? It was worth it though! I saw this news article about how smelling things in your sleep can trigger memories, so I tried spraying your perfume on my pillow before I go to bed and now I get to see you at work and when I’m dreaming—”

“STOP IT!” Your slap echoes across the room with a resounding crack. You’ve never hit anyone before in your life, but your aim is good enough to leave Tendou staring with a shocked expression off to the side and a bright red mark on his face. His arms fall down from you and you back away from him, clutching your hand to your chest. “You need to get out. You’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly. We...we can talk about this tomorrow, but right now you have to go.”

Your heart is beating like hummingbird wings, sending a flush up to your face that you know is visible. Tendou ghosts his hand over his cheek and is quiet for a long moment. “I wanted to do this the right way,” he says finally.

“What?”

“I tried. But you’re so obsessed with professionalism. You refused to see me like that,” he sighs. “You’re too responsible. Although it’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Please listen to me...” The psychological anxiety of this revelation is stirring up a primal fight or flight instinct, and you start backing up.

“I really wanted to treat you gently. You deserve to be treated well…”

“Tendou, wait.” How far are you from your bedroom? You don’t want to resort to hiding from him, but you’d feel a lot better with a locked door between you and him.

“…but senpai, I’ve waited so long. And it’s my birthday.”

Your hands scrabble for the doorknob, only—oh. He’s not just stronger than you, he’s faster too.

➠ [Part 2]

#Tendou Satori x reader #Tendou Satori #Tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #Tendo Satori x reader #Tendo Satori #Tendo x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere Tendou Satori x reader #yandere Tendou Satori #yandere Tendo Satori x reader #yandere Tendo Satori

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harveyb-wabbit92 · 3 years

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Invader Zim: Elite Guardians AU Pt. 2

The following is a non-profit fan-based story, Invader ZiM is owned by Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon please support the official release, I gain no profit nor do I own anything other than OCs and whatever spouts from my imagination!

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A another month passed Zim started looking less like wrinkled worm and more like an Irken, Red and Purple were running low on money, Repairing the cruiser was getting more difficult, whenever they fixed something, another thing would break or scavengers would sneak in and take whatever wasn't bolted down, that's when the Elites came to the conclusion that maybe they should look for work. So they started bounty hunting for the local constabulary.

What choice did they have? if they were ever gonna get off this rock and find Cradle 2-117. Bounty hunting was the way to go, The Cruiser was a lost beyond repair, but there were a lot of ships for sale in Meeko; the problem was finding who was willing to sell a ship to them, The citizens were still cold towards them, Again. Neither Red and Purple could understand why? They soon got answer in the most unconventional way, they'd come back from a job, Some nut job thought it was good splice a giant spider with a squid and than super sizing it!

Red was shooting the thing with his Plasma gun while Purple striking it with his photon axe, meanwhile Zim was happily skipping around the battlefield, narrowly missing being crushed or shot at, Red noticed the smeet hopping around. "Zim! get out of the way!" Red dodges a tentacle swinging for him. "You're gonna get hurt!" He barked the smeet just stared at him blankly before smiling "Rwed!" he cheered waving at him, Red facepalmed. "Hi!" he waved back before going back to fighting, Zim went back to his little skipping game dodging death at every corner, only stopping when he saw a large beetle crawling around on the sand, the smeet crouched down just as Purple was thrown off the Squider and sent crashing into the wall behind Zim.

The purple eyed elite sat up with a groan; rubbing his head looked at Zim and did a double take when he saw the smeet eating a beetle, Purple jumped to his feet rushed over to the smeet trying to pry his mouth open. "Naw, no, no. Spit it out, spit out! c'mon!" he lightly slapped Zim's back and the smeet spat up bug guts Purple grimaced. "Disgusting!" he huffed giving the smeet some ration wafers and went back to helping Red fight, Zim calmly sat out of the way to eat and watch his 'Brothers' fight the monster, by the end of the battle Red and Purple were covered in ink and teal colored guts, and their wallets were a good chunk heavier, when they woke up this morning...

Later when they got back to the cruiser both Red felt something was off, there was scent in the air he didn't recognize at first he thought it was the Squider guts, but as they got closer to their wreck... it became more apparent that someone or something was in there, Purple noticed it too he and Red exchanged a look; the red clad elite set Zim down and shush him, the smeet copied him and nodded, Purple dispatched his PAK legs and went in from above while Red followed and hid in the doorway of the engine room, his first thought was it was just another scavenger looking for scrap, but by now everyone nearby knew this ship was occupied and stayed clear of it, Red peeked into the engine room and saw a hooded figure fidgeting around with the power core.

Red's eyes narrowed as he tried to get a better look and saw this person reading off what looked like an engineering manual, he saw Purple getting into position, they could hear this person mumbling to themselves. "Okay... now shut down switch Y and detach port Q?...wait no, um..." the guards looked at each other and nodded, Purple jumped from the ceiling; landing in front of the intruder catching them completely off guard. "What the fu-" they saw the purple eyed Irken reach for a his stunned baton and panicked. "Shite!" they yelped and went to run only to get pistol whipped from behind by Red knocking them out.

Red and Purple were perplexed when they tied them up removed the intruders hood and made sure they didn't have weapons, they've never seen an alien like them before... they had this weird long stringy stuff on their head that was soft to the touch, but stood out out most of all was how tall they were... Both Irkens just barely came up to the intruder's chin. "Whoa! They're almost the same height as Tallest Miyuki!" Purple said stunned while Red shook his head. "No... Miyuki is definitely taller..." he insisted but then again they haven't seen Tallest Miyuki in months! So they couldn't exactly make a comparison.

While the two were prattled about Miyuki and the intruder's heights, neither noticed Zim wander in the smeet looked between the bickering Elites before noticing the stranger sitting against the wall. His pink eyes lit up as he curiously approached the unconscious alien, He saw the long fuzzy stuff on their head and immediately grabbed it and started tugging which roused the trespasser awake.

Red and Purple tenses at the unknown voice cut into their conversation they looked and saw Zim swinging off the alien's... mane? "Ow..ow! quit it! They try to jerked their head away from Zim's grasp. "Oww, Seriously kid stop it!" They growled Red snapped out of his stupor and quickly picked up Zim. "Don't talk to him like that!" He spat glaring at the intruder, who glared back their e/c eyes looked odd too, but Red was more focused on whether or not they were a threat or not.

"Who are you? What are you?" he huffed along with Purple butting in. "And why do you want our power core?" the alien winced a the purple one's shrill voice. " if I tell you will you untie me?" they asked hopeful, the Irkens were silent, and the intruder took their silence as a hard "maybe."

"My name is Y/n, I’m a human female, My ship crashed few clicks north from here, the power core was always little spotty, and it finally gave up the ghost. So I went out looking for a replacement, looked around Meeko and other crash sites, before finding a power signal that lead me to... I thought it was it was a derelict ship!"

"Does this ship derelict look to you?!"

"Well... yeah? I mean look around, your ship is in pieces! it'll obviously never fly again, I'm surprised your core was even intact!"

"How did you even get in? we have security measures!"

Y/n looked bemused before something clicked in her head, she cocked her head towards the front of the ship. "Oh! the giant hole in your hull, with the lasers and forcefield? yeah, I think your motion sensors and hard light generator is offline, I walked right through it" Purple looked like he was going to cry seeing as he was the one who rigged that forcefield up. " that and your front door was wi... was.." Your voice suddenly trailed off, Red and Purple watched your demeanor change as something caught your eye, it took a moment for Red to notice you were staring at the Irken symbol on their armor.

"Shite... You slaver scum!" both Irkens jumped back startled by your sudden outburst. "What are you planning to do with that kid?! huh? did you kidnap him too?" You growled Red and Purple looked at each other stunned. "What are you talking about?" Red asked you just glared him in disgust. "Don't play fucking coy with me! I’ve seen your damn ship going around ransacking outposts around the system and kidnapping people!" Red and Purple were at loss here, 2-117 was overtaken by Slavers? well, at least now they knew why almost everyone on Greedo was so hostile towards them!

There was a tense stare down between the trio, You watched as the two "slavers" got into a huddle, you heard the numbers "2-117..." being mumbled then Red one was saying something the Purple one disagreed with. "No, oh no no no! We're not taking in another stray!" the purple hissed vehemently. "She's the our ticket off this rock, we're doing it!" They turned to look at you.

"What?" you hissed as the Red clad alien silently handed the kid over to his Purple counterpart who glared at him, you tensed up as he walked up to you. "Calm down and just listen alright?" Red guy explained they’re not slavers, but Elite guards from Irk sent to investigate and retrieve a missing Nursery ship called Cradle 2-117 that had been skyjacked a few months ago, the only lead they have is Zim, who Red found malnourished and wandering around in a trash dump.... Now you.

You of course were bit skeptical about this whole situation, what with being tied up and all! but, then Purple told you to take a good look at Zim, the kid was same species as them: Irken. "How many other Irkens have you seen wandering the Tarn system?" You realized never, you have never seen an Irken in Tarn before, so maybe they were telling the truth? then Purple got you attention again "Where was the last place you saw that ship?" You paused thing back to were you saw the Irken ship, it wasn’t hard to forget considering how unique it looked.

"I think it was headed to Planet Nyree? that’s a two week journey from here." Both Irken elites looked each other hopeful, finally a real lead! "However I'd suggest getting a new ship, I don’t think this one will taking off anytime soon." They hear the ship groan as a panel falls out of the ceiling, landing a little too close to you then you'd like, Red looks at Purple whose shoulders slumped, knowing what was coming, You were confused as Red reach around behind you and untied you. "Okay! New plan, we need a ship and you need a power core, let’s make a deal..." and that's how you gained three new crew members aboard the Cardinal.

#invader zim #invader zim x reader #the almighty tallest #the tallest x reader #smeet zim #tallest red #tallest purple #tallest miyuki #tallest red x reader #tallest purple x reader #irken elite #elite guardians au

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goldenspecter · 4 years

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Forgivness

Summary: “I was possessed! Da-A ghost took over my body!” Tucker shouts and that’s the moment he breaks down, pulling his hands away from his parents and holding him close to his chest-if he holds his chest, then no one can enter his body. That burning in his chest is back as he sobs brokenly. Here he was, breaking down over something Danny did to him and here he is, still holding on to Danny’s secret. Where was the fairness in that? “I didn’t want to!”

Valerie doesn’t know how to forgive someone. She’s never really had to, because people usually don’t hurt her this badly. Usually they apologize on the spot for some minor thing and Valerie instantly forgives them because she knows that they meant her no harm.

In which we see how Tucker copes with the events of Parental Bonding and Valerie gets some closure.

Archive of Our Own | FFN

Notes:

Here's the first side story in the AU! I'm quite happy with how this one turned out and hopefully plan on doing more of these as the AU progresses!

I knew I had to write this after writing that confrontation scene between Tucker and Valerie in the French Braids and it's been something I've been wanting to write anyways. Not to mention that I'm currently having some form of writers block when it's coming to writing the next part of the other fic.

- I've seen plenty of works within the fandom that addresses how overshadowing/possessing someone fucks them up but I don't think I've quite seen anything that talks about how it personally affected Tucker. It's really, really, really fucked up for Tucker to explicitly say no and not consent to be overshadowed and Danny, his best friend and someone who's the narrative says is a good person, ignore Tucker and do it any way and deeply violate his agency and consent. Even more fucked up that the narrative plays this for jokes at the end of the episode. This is literally a Vlad move my dudes, this is something that we should expect of Vlad because we know that he doesn't really view people as actual people, just pawns that he can use to meet a goal. Danny doing shit like this multiple times throughout canon(and it being played for jokes) only makes him more like Vlad. A more interesting concept would have been Danny asking to overshadow someone/not using except for dire circumstances but canon said fuck good ideas right?

-Valerie deserves closure. She deserves good things, good things and she deserves closure for being stood up at home coming.

-Re: Self-Harm Tag: Okay so Tucker has a certain behavior in this fic where he picks at scabs in his hair until they bleed but the thing is, Tucker doesn't really have a choice whether or not he wants to do it but rather it's compulsive. He doesn't really realize he's doing it and doesn't intend to cause physical damage(whereas its the opposite with self-harming) but he knows its a thing. Trichotillomania (hair pulling) and skin picking are commonly seen in autistic people. It can serve as a way to self-soothe and self-stimulate the individual in day to day life. Some Autism Specialists can classify this behavior as a SIB(Self-Injurious-Behavior) since it is harmful to the person's body. Also I do this a lot, have been for several years and once again the projection is real.

-Also Tucker in this AU has a really hardcore squish(friend crush) on Valerie but doesn't really understand/realize that he just wants to be friends with her and thus pursued her in a romantic manner.

Timeline wise in the AU: The first half, in Tucker’s POV, takes place right after Parental Bonding, through One of a Kind and mid way through pt one of French Braids. The second half, Valerie’s POV, is after pt one of French Braids and in between Attack of the Killer Garage Sale and Splitting Images.

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When Tucker fully comes back into his body, he's at the homecoming dance. Dragon Sam’s been subdued and back to her normal self and the three of them are standing in the middle of the dance floor.

“Dude, sorry your date didn't pan out. Where is Paulina anyway?” asks Tucker, the words taste bitter in his mouth as he says them.

Sam shrugs, “Ah, who cares? Look, the DJ's still playing. I think there's time for one last dance?”

“Sure, I’d love to,” Danny turns and hands the amulet to Tucker. “Keep an eye on this will you?”

Danny doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before dropping the amulet in Tucker’s hands. Tucker’s fingers instinctively curl around the amulet and Tucker turns away from Danny’s smile because all he can see now is Danny’s green eyes smiling at him before Danny took over. How come he didn’t get an apology for being forced to stand up Valerie? How come he’s the only one who doesn’t get a happy ending this time around? How come Danny gets to pretend like none of this ever happened while he was stuck with the aftermath?

Tucker swallows the lump in his chest, “Wait a second,” he begins, “I’m dateless again?! What does a guy have to do to get hooked up around here?”

“I want to go to the ball!” wails Dora.

He doesn’t know why he had to turn his feelings into a mere joke. He does of course. Because no one here really thinks his feelings matter and jokes are the only way he has right now to process it. Tucker knows this but can’t help the heartache and nausea bury when Danny and Sam laugh at his misfortune. Can they not see that he’s hurting or do they just not care ?

The fourteen year old forces a smile on his face as he steps away from Dora. “Maybe I don’t need a date that badly,” he says and runs away from the blooming romance and the burning in his chest.

~~~~~~~

Home should be safe. Home was safe. Home was where it happened, so how safe was he? Tucker opens the door and both of his parents are there, sitting at the table waiting for him.

How safe were they? Were any of them safe anymore?

His parents look up from the card game they were playing, “Tucker?” his mom asks, with confusion in her eyes. “It’s pretty early, you shouldn’t be home for another hour or two.”

Tucker shakes his head, kicking the door behind him. “Wanted to go home early.” He turns around facing the door and locks it, and with it, his emotions.

Maurice blinks, laying down his cards. “Did something happen dear?”

Tucker shakes his head even harder. “It’s nothing,” his voice cracks slightly and he can feel his parents' looks of concern.

Maurice stands up and slowly walks towards him, “Something happened dear,” he says softly and Tucker just knows that he can’t keep up this facade any longer. “Whatever happened, it’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t,” he says in a rough whisper. Maybe, if he keeps his eyes down then he won't lose it. “It won’t ever be.”

Maurice tries to wrap his arm around his son but steps back when his son roughly pushes him away. He tries again, but this time, he gently takes one of his son's hands and holds it in his. “Please, just talk to us.”

It’s the desperation in his dad’s voice that does it for him, that finally gets him to talk. “I stood up Valerie,” he says, voice cracking and thick with emotion, growing more and more panicked by the second. “I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to, I didn’t have a choice.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t have a choice?” Angela asks, coming up to him and taking his other hand in hers.

“I was possessed! Da-A ghost took over my body!” Tucker shouts and that’s the moment he breaks down, pulling his hands away from his parents and holding him close to his chest-if he holds his chest, then no one can enter his body. That burning in his chest is back as he sobs brokenly. Here he was, breaking down over something Danny did to him and here he is, still holding on to Danny’s secret. Where was the fairness in that? “I didn’t want to!”

Maurice gets over his initial shock at Tucker’s outburst, before he jumps in to help his hurting son. “Tucker, can you take deep breaths with me?” he takes exaggerated deep breaths, “Follow my breathing.”

“I can’t,” he manages to say through a sob, “It’s not safe, you aren’t safe, none of us are safe.”

“You’re safe honey, you’re safe,” Angela says, sliding off his hat and gently stroking his hair in an effort to calm him down. “Maybe we can go to the Fentons-”

Tucker reels back and the panic kicks into overdrive, “No!” The sobbing grows into deep and broken wails. They can’t go to Ground Zero, where the source of this misery originated from, because then all three of them definitely won’t be safe. Home is safer, Home has to be safer, Home needs to be safer.

Maurice and Angela look at each other in confusion, unable to understand why their child was so adamant about not going to the Fentons. Both parents put aside their confusion to help their son calm down, taking nearly 45 minutes to do so. Once Tucker was calm, they gave him some water and some medications to help him sleep through the night. Maurice walks his son upstairs, stands outside the door as he changes into pajamas and personally tucks his son in for the night, turning out the light and leaving Tucker’s door slightly ajar.

Tucker doesn’t leave the house for the rest of the weekend.

~~~~~~

Tucker wants to stay away from Danny, he doesn’t feel safe near him anymore. He doesn’t know when his best friend is going to overshadow his body and take control of him.

He’s just on the brink of telling Danny to leave him alone, to not talk to him anymore when Danny says he needs them both to help him with ghost hunting and studying for the test.

Tucker feels the no on his tongue, practically taste it, but instead a sour yes spills out instead.

The incident with the Purple Back Gorilla happens and the week passes by quickly. Tucker can not help but feel uneasy, thankful when the weekend comes by.

Somehow, someway he’s at the grocery store and he comes across Valerie pushing a cart with a little kid inside of it. Nerves garble his voice even as he clears his voice, “Valerie? I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while.”

“Go away Tucker,” she says and he can hear the anger boiling in her.

“I know I messed up-”

She whips around, her green eyes narrowing at him in anger and he feels so small right about now. “You left me!” she hisses, “I was alone!”

Tucker winces, rubbing his neck. “Let me explain Valerie.”

"You don't get to explain how you stood me up at homecoming," Valerie starts, her voice tight. "You don't get to waltz in here-" Her shoulders deflate, the anger leaving her body and soon washes her over with sadness. Tucker knows that she’s holding herself back and he can only assume it’s because of the kid in the cart.

"Go," she points down the aisle, "I don't want to hear your excuses."

Tucker bows his head in shame, walking down the aisle and out of the store with the few items he bought, his chance to repair...whatever he wanted to have with Valerie gone.

~~~~~

But with Tucker? She has no idea where to begin. The only reason she’s considering forgiving Tucker in the first place is because Clockwork told her that Tucker didn’t want to stand her up, that he didn’t mean to hurt her, that Clockwork knew what happened that night but couldn’t tell her.

Clockwork leans over her shoulder as she contemplates sending Tucker a text. “What are you doing?” they ask, sipping on their juice.

“Trying to send a text,” she says, “To Tucker to talk about...you know.”

Clockwork tilts their head before nodding in realization. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know what to say!” Valerie says, throwing her hands up in frustration. “That’s just it!”

The small child shrugs, “Mmm, just go with what feels right?” they question in a stilted voice.

Valerie raises an eyebrow, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I picked it up from someone on one of the TV shows you were watching,” Clockwork says, “I thought it was appropriate.”

It was appropriate, she has to give them that, no matter how stilted and unnatural they sounded while saying it. She encouragingly rubs their back, “You did good, though.” she praises, pulling them in close to her for a side hug.

Valerie’s thumb hovers over the keyboard, typing and retyping her message until she’s satisfied with it and pressing send.

You: I’ve thought about it and I’m giving you one chance to explain yourself. Meet me at the park at 5:30. I’ll be at the tables near the swings.

Several minutes pass by before she feels her phone vibrate, looking down to see the notification.

Tucker: Okay, meet you there.

Valerie sighs, pulling away from Clockwork. She sits up, checks the time on her phone. It’s 4:45 now and the park was only a five to ten minute walk from the Nasty Burger. Then again, it didn’t hurt to be early, Clockwork could play on the swings while she waits for him to meet her.

“You finished with your food?” she asks Clockwork, who nods. “Come on, we’re heading to the park.”

“Whoo!” exclaims Clockwork, eagerly sliding out of the dining booth. Valerie shakes her head with a smile, picking up their trays, dumping the food and sitting the trays on top of the trash cans as they walk out of the diner. Traffic was a little heavy, which only set them back by five minutes and the two managed to get to Amity Park in a timely manner.

Once they’re in the park, Valerie hunts for the set of swings. She quickly finds it, the tables she mentioned earlier close by. She sits down at the wooden tables and tells Clockwork to go play on the swing, which they do without a fuss. Valerie checks her phone again, the time now 5:05, leaving her with only twenty five minutes till Tucker was supposed to be here. She decides to scroll through her social media, occasionally breaking away from her phone to check on Clockwork.

Valerie feels the table and bench groan and shift under new weight, she looks up and Tucker is sitting right across from her.

He looks nervous and uncertain. So is she.

Turning her phone screen off and placing it face down on the table, Valerie sits there in silence for a moment before speaking.

“Uh, speak your truth,” Valerie says awkwardly and she wishes that she had gone over what she was going to say. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“I got possessed by a ghost,” Tucker says, looking away from her and throwing his hands out. “I don’t remember what happened when I was possessed.”

“We’re her best friends! We should have known.” Danny laments.

“It’s not our responsibility to read and protect Sam’s emotions, she should have said she wanted to go to the dance from the beginning,” Tucker says back, straightening his tie a bit. “There’s nothing we can do about it now anyways.”

Danny thinks for a moment, then a mischievous smile appears as green eyes flash at Tucker.

Tucker realizes what Danny wants him to do, “No way. Forget it. Absolutely not. No!” he loudly protests and the next thing he knows, he’s feeling a gaping hole in his chest as his consciousness is taken over by Danny.

“You were possessed….by a ghost?” Valerie asks incredulously, she feels something tugging her arms. Looking down, she sees Clockwork looking up at her with their big eyes, silently saying “He’s telling the truth.”

Tucker’s nods, “I know that sounds absurd and it sounds stupid but it happened and I’m so sorry that I stood you up.” Tucker pleads, holding his face in his hands, one of them crawling up to his head and pulling at the short curls. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m so, so sorry.”

Valerie notices how distressed Tucker sounds, how his voice cracks a tiny bit after he shields his face from her and how broken Tucker looks and sounds. There have been plenty of ghosts attacks in the city and it sounds just as likely he was possessed by one of these ghosts. He didn’t have a reason to make any of this up; it wouldn’t have made sense if he did since he was too excited to be her date to the dance.

Clockwork’s words ring in her head, “If it helps, he didn't want to hurt you.He didn't want to though," and she gets it. She finally gets it.

Valerie reaches out, uncertain as she pulls Tucker’s hands away from his hair, not saying anything as she notices blood staining the pads of his fingers and holds it in her hand. Tucker stops shaking, stops pleading, simply stops and looks at Valerie, waiting for her to confirm his worst suspicions.

“That possession stuff? That’s some weak shit fam,” she says, “But I forgive you.”

Tucker’s body sags with relief, and the unheard ‘Thank You’ is loud enough for all three of them at the table.

Clockwork reaches forward, takes one of Tucker’s hands and holds it.

Valerie grabs a tissue and some hand sanitizer out of her book bag, squeezes some on the tissue and begins gently wiping the blood off of his finger pads. He tries to pull back but Valerie tightens her grip on him.

“Let...let us handle this,” she says softly, continuing to wipe the blood off his fingers. “Why so much blood?”

Tucker looks away in embarrassment. “I have a thing where I can’t help but pick at the scabs in my hair,” he explains, “It gets really bad sometimes.”

“I bet what happened hasn’t helped any,” Valerie says, silently gesturing for Clockwork to give her his other hand so she can continue. “Do you remember the ghost who did it?”

Tucker shakes his head, “No,” The lie comes too easily. The little kid sitting next to Valerie eyes him with some scrutiny, and Tucker resists the urge to pull away from Valerie while wondering if this kid knew more than they let on. “What would you do if you ever found them?”

“Punch them in the face,” Valerie says without skipping a beat, oblivious to Clockwork’s and Tucker’s simultaneous wince. “No ghost gets away with possessing my friends.”

“Friend?” Tucker repeats back, “We’re friends?”

“Well, yeah,” Valerie answers, as if it wasn’t obvious. “You’re my friend now.”

Tucker blinks several times to make sure he heard her properly. “Oh, okay.”

Valerie finishes wiping the blood off of his fingers and he slowly pulls them back towards his chest. “I should go home now,” Tucker says, standing up and pulling away from the table.

“Why don’t we go with you? Me and...Isaiah can keep you company while you walk home. Ghosts probably won’t attack if all three of us are together.” Valerie says, standing up to wipe the imaginary dirt off her orange skirt. Isaiah follows suit, tightly holding her hand. “You in?”

“Sure,” he stutters. The three begin the walk to Tucker’s house and as they walk, he can’t help but focus on how safe he feels with Valerie and Isaiah and feels that gaping hole in his chest slowly begin to heal.

#danny phantom #tucker foley #valerie gray #dp clockwork #dp fanfiction #dp fanfic #goldenspecter writes

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amerrierworld · 4 years

Text

Curtain. (iv)

Carol (2015) fanfiction

Pt: 1 | 2 | 3

Word Count: 1,289

September - just before the first day.

"Yes, yes. I know, Harge. I'm her mother for God's sake, I'm not going to forget anything," Carol grumbled into the phone as she grabbed the last of Rindy's bags from the back of the car.

"Well you better make sure she gets everything she needs, Carol," her ex-husband responded gruffly. "I want her to do well in school."

"Harge, it's first grade. What dire needs would a six-year old have to have? It's not like she's learning calculus."

"Listen, I don't want to have a tantrum-prone child at my house in a month because you decide not to discipline her with the school. They like me over there, you know."

"Yes, you've told me many times, Harge. Just because you have the money to fund that school and make them all lovey-dovey for your spare change does not mean we normal people have money coming out our asses."

"Watch it, Ross. It's still my name in the registration."

Carol pursed her lips, forming a foul expression but deciding not to snap back.

"Anyway, I want her in at least one team. They're very disciplined with their physical education, it'll do Rindy some good."

"What? You can't be serious, Harge. She's too young to be participating with any rigorous sports-"

"And I said she was too young to make her suffer through her parent's divorce, but here we are."

Carol sighed as she closed the car and headed up the steps to the house. "I can't promise anything. When Rindy wants something from that school, she gets it, fine. But if it's not sports, that's just too bad. So don't come blaming me if she wants to play in the band or some crap, okay?"

"Fine."

"I'll bring her over on the last Friday of the month, like we agreed."

"Thank you, Carol." His voice was cold and monotone and Carol summoned all her will power not to throw her phone against the brick wall. She hung up before he could say anything else and pushed through the front door.

"Mommy!" A squeal of delight sounded from the living room as her daughter came bounding towards her. Notorious wine-aunt and babysitter Abigail Gerhard followed closely behind.

"There you are, nitwit. Rindy was beginning to think her mom had been kidnapped."

"Oh nonsense," Carol said, crouching down to pick up her daughter, whose wispy blonde curls were sticking out everywhere. "I've got the last bits of your stuff, sweet pea. Now we can properly arrange your new room."

"Yay!"

"I best get going, Carol. I got you some of those bath salts you really like, I figured you might need some, plus they were on sale, so I had to."

"You're the best, Abby, I can't thank you enough."

Carol gave her best friend a quick peck on the cheek as she passed by her to the front door.

"Good luck with school, kiddo," she ruffled Rindy's hair and gave Carol one last squeeze on her shoulder before exiting the house.

Rindy snuggled in tightly against Carol and her heart felt like it was about to burst. She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, kissing the top of her head and letting out a sigh of relief. The bags could wait, she thought.

"It's far too quiet here without Aunt Abby, don't you think? Let's put on some music and I'll make us some dinner."

"Can we listen to Frozen, momma?"

"Of course, sweet pea."

After chicken nuggets and a desperate attempt to make Rindy eat some broccoli, her daughter lay tuckered out on Carol's lap, who was watching the news rather than Coco for the fifteenth time. Her legs were stiff but she dared not move from her spot. Rindy had flailed around and danced to endless Disney songs, forcing her mom to dance with her in the kitchen while making dinner.

Now, it was getting late and the way her eyes were straining against the bright TV made Carol realize it was probably time for her to go to bed as well. Eventually she relented and got up, cradling Rindy carefully as to not wake her up before heading to her new bedroom. The bed had been made and Rindy's fairy lights were strung up, but there were still loads of boxes meant to be gone through. The walls were a soft lavender shade with butterfly decorations everywhere; on the walls, lamps, and closet door.

Carol tucked her daughter into bed and wished her a quiet good night before turning the lights out and leaving. She left the door open a crack like she always did and headed to her own bedroom, which seemed much darker and lonelier compared to the toddler's dreamy childhood bedroom.

Carol debated a hot bath to help her relax but decided against it for the sake of sleep. She threw on an old shirt and a pair of boxer briefs to sleep in and crawled to the middle of the large bed, surrounding herself with the thick duvet and ample pillows. The air conditioning made it extra cold in her room and she felt herself trying to get to sleep, but her brain was too preoccupied to let her body shut down.

Carol grabbed her phone, intending to call Abby but remembered that she had a date that evening, which is why she had left so hurriedly. Abby was most definitely already occupied at this time.

Instead, she went to the school's online directory. The title Frankenberg Elementary came up and Carol scrolled through the names of teachers, wanting to remember as many as possible.

Carol and Harge had been huge influences on the school since Rindy started going there. Harge spared no expense in funding many of the school's programs, and consequently gaining immunity for their daughter through power play. Though the thought of it made Carol squirm with guilt, she knew at least now Rindy wouldn't be treated unfairly by the system. Other kids, not so much.

She went straight to the phys-ed tab and up came T. Tucker. Carol sighed, knowing she'd have to face him for another year. Him and Harge had got on swimmingly from the beginning, but Carol had never really enjoyed his company or comments. His female counter part; Mrs. Morgan who taught phys-ed to younger years found him just as insufferable, as she had noted at several PTA meetings.

She went through the regular listings, noting that Robichek was teaching kindergarten again, and thanking heaven that she didn't have to deal with the elderly woman again now that Rindy was out of kindergarten.

A new subheading under Subjects caught Carol's eye; Art. She didn't remember there being a distinct art teacher before; usually it was just doodle or craft assignments assigned by regular teachers.

She clicked.

One name came up.

T. Belivet

Carol blinked at her screen, her eyelids heavy, and frowned. Surely it wasn't the same girl as the shy, petite brunette who had taken photo after photo of Carol which she had pretended not to see? The name seemed too familiar... but what were the chances the girl would be teaching at Rindy's school? Carol scoffed at her own imagined fantasy. It was ridiculous. Abby was right; she ought to get on the dating scene again instead of these desperate fantasies and daydreams.

There was no picture. For all she knew, it could be a relative. If Abby wanted to hire Therese again for the Christmas show, surely she wouldn't have started teaching at a kids' school?

Carol shut off her phone and groaned a little at the ache behind her eyes. It wasn't worth worrying about things that probably meant nothing. She turned over on her side, and curled into a protective ball, determined to get some sleep and give Rindy the best first day.

A/N: My promised Just Pretend pt 2 is coming up after this folks, and then the rest of my queue. I’ve just been on a roll with Carol and Therese that I gotta get some chapters out of my system :3 love you all

#carol #carol aird #carol fanfiction #carol movie #carol x therese #therese belivet #carolxtherese #The Price of Salt #patricia highsmith #carol 2015 #cate blanchett #rooney mara #sarah paulson #wlw #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #fanfiction #merry writes

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

treason against kingly youth, pt i of ii

summary: somehow, you survived the 2020 election. now, all you have to do is get a know-nothing white man into the senate. should be easy enough.

pairing: chris evans x reader

words: 3223

trigger warnings: rpf, white dudes doin White Dude Things

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

For a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to breathe, really breathe. One, big breath in that clears the stress from your muscles, drops your shoulders, lets your whole body sag against the decade-old chair that you’re surprised hasn’t crumbled under the weight of your ever-tense body and its corresponding sins.

It’s a mere six feet away that everyone else you’ve worked with for the past three years with – the people you went through sleepless nights, long road trips, greasy food from mom and pop diners with the middle of assfuck nowhere, registering voters and writing up another plan for every fucking thing wrong with America (low teacher pay? Check. Electoral college ruining democracy? Check. Criminalization of homosexuality? Check. Private school sucking the life out of public schools? The monopoly artificially inflating prices on glasses up to 400%? The disparity between the number of men’s and women’s bathrooms in federal buildings? Check, check, check) – each and every person celebrates with wine and whiskey and any other alcoholic beverages they can get their underpaid hands on. It’s not even the cheap stuff, no, this is top shelf liquor. This is D-Day, “we’ve got an hour before the nuclear missile hits” liquor.

There are two times people go this all-out on their spirits – the end of the world, and the end of an election (though, to some, they’re the same thing).

But not you. Never pitiful little you. Pitiful little campaign manager you doesn’t rest, doesn’t get to stop pulling rabbits out of hats and money from single moms and votes out of college students.

There’s three TVs in front of your desk, each playing a different news station and each anchor drowning the others out. It’s a cacophony of white noise, and not because

The only voice, the only singular voice that has cemented itself into this far, previously blissfully unattended corner of your brain. You can hear her, feel her own on your shoulder – you can see her leaning against her old desk nestled in her home back in Massachusetts.

“I want you to be my chief of staff. You ran my campaign better than I could have asked for, and I would be incredibly lucky and blessed to have you run my White House.”

Your own voice rings next, always shakier than the time previous.

“I can’t do that,” your sigh gets deeper each time, too. “You know I can’t.”

Somehow, her voice always gets more confident. It’s one of those things about her, about the way she carries herself. If she’s faking that confidence you’d never know. “I know, but I’ll always tell you that there’s a place for you at the White House as long as I have something to say about it.”

In the sea of blue and red and white confetti and streamers and all the other shit people use to celebrate when their party wins an election, the thick, bleached white of your laptop screen stares back at you more menacingly than any Republican – winning or losing - you’ve ever met.

You’d like to think you are the kind professional that is never caught off guard, the kind of woman who can expect anything. But as the email that’s derailed your plan for the next four years stares back at you, the all-caps subject line feels more like the headlights of an 18-wheeler to a deer in the middle of a highway than an excellent career opportunity.

Still, with malt liquor in hand, you allow yourself a moment to breathe. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll make all of this just a little bit easier.

A little less than five hundred miles away, Christopher Robert Evans is the drunkest he’s ever been, surrounded by the same men he’s known since his freshman year of high school, yelling nonsensically as one of his current senators becomes the president-elect of the most power country on Earth.

The only coherent thing to leave the man’s mouth the entire night is oh so wonderfully caught on a friend’s iPhone and will – quite likely – be posted to some social media site by the next morning.

The video (which you will eventually be seeing at your first meeting with the Boston native) shows him in a Harvard sweatshirt (a university he did not attend), deep blue skinny jeans, and a Patriots hat balanced just enough to show his (possibly) thinning hairline. There, between his two best friends, he screams in his played-up Boston accent at the top of his lungs:

“I’M GOING TO BE A SENATOR, BITCHES!”

But you, back in D.C., are blissfully unaware of the long road ahead of you. So, you enjoy your malt liquor, and your small bit of quiet on election night – a sign of the muted calm before the political shitstorm ahead of you.

You end up not replying to said email the next morning (see: seven hours later after falling asleep in your chair for about five hours and then browsing angry GOP Twitter accounts while cackling into a cup of the blackest coffee you’ve ever tasted for the other two), confirming you’d be willing to work for Christopher Robert Evans’ campaign to run for the current president-elect’s soon-to-be open senate seat.

Or, at least confirming you’d speak to the Evans family to talk about running the campaign of the whitest man under the age of forty you’ve ever seen. Whether or not you ended up attempting to control what is likely another dumpster-fire campaign in a series of dumpster-fire campaigns. Harris is the one that comes to mind, but drawing any parallels between that woman and this man feels borderline offensive.

Plus, her senate run was successful. And she held elected office before that.

Why did you agree to do this again?

Right, you need money. So much money. All of the money. At least enough money that you can be bought from straight under the White House, which just so happens to be the amount the Evans estate offered you in exchange for your services.

Maybe that’s why you’ve found yourself in a conference room in an expensive office building, looking up at Chris Evans as his face turns red and your heart rate picks up.

“I’m Massachusetts’s best choice!” he screams, slamming his hands onto the table – a rich brown you sort of wish you could afford to have in your own home back at the capital. Your estate sale table, even with the coat of white paint you gave it after buying it, still can’t hold a candle to the beautiful grooves and smooth top.

But this isn’t time to yearn for better interior design prospects. Now is the time to put this moderate democrat man-child in his upper-middle-class place.

“Chris, you’re the best choice for an internship for the fucking EPA,” you nearly hiss. “You’re in the intern in Vice who watched Dick Cheney make deals with those fucking oil businessmen. You’re the shiny faced bastard who watched the world burn while listening to a Walkman. Do you understand me?”

His teeth are barred like he’s about to bite at your face; luckily that man comes with an electric collar and you’ve got the controller.

“Your biggest qualification is you got a five on the AP Gov exam. You have a single living family member who has held elected office in the last five years, and he was in the House of Representatives. The House! He wasn’t even in the chamber you’re gunning to be a part of. You were an econ major with a minor in, what? Poli sci? At a mid-tier university because your family doesn’t have Kushner money to bribe your acceptance letter out of a better one. Your main job after college was working as an accountant for old fraternity because they get audited so often the IRS had to release a public statement saying they were changing their processes for such matter on college campuses. You’re so moderate you’re in the aisle playing legislative mad-libs while everyone fawns over your B+ facial hair and C- chest tattoo. You’re a cute puppy at a for-profit rescue, you’re eye candy on a political television show.

“You’re the type of person who didn’t think that Gillibrand was done for before the second debate. That’s the problem with you. I mean there are lots of problems with you, but that’s the one I’m most annoyed with right now. It’s not that you can’t understand patterns or see what’s going on around you. It’s that you were never forced to. When you walk outside in the dark, I bet you don’t look behind you, you don’t clutch your keys like claws to protect yourself. You know how much pepper spray costs? Do you know what a noisemaker does? No, you’ve never had to. You’ve never had to shield yourself from danger because the rest of the world did that for you.”

It’s then that you realize you’re both standing, your finger jabbed into the Windsor knot of his tie. Still, you don’t stop.

“You are the shell of an actual politician; you represent a safe option for right-adjacent Democrats and moderate Republicans who hate the president’s coalition and women. Especially women of color. You’re the perfect option because you stand for nothing of substance, you do nothing on your own. You’re a cover for old racist white men and moderate white women who need something to attatch their lack of political knowledge to during dinner conversations. Either you shape up, or I’m leaving this campaign and watching your inevitable fall from my office in the White House. I will drink a martini in the West Wing the day you lose, I will release a glowing endorsement of the first liberal who so much as whispers about taking your ass down. Do you understand me?”

The longest few seconds of your life pass with bated breath as you two stand there, chests rising and falling in a synced rhythm with your jaws set. It’s a stand off, neither of you willing to look away from the other’s eyes.

“Do you understand me, Evans?” you bite, getting angrier at each passing Chris says nothing. It’s not the self-reflective kind of silence, it’s the generic peanut butter when you’re too broke to afford the real stuff. It’s pasta before a marathon. It’s ads the radio station plays when they’re out of loops of the latest rape-adjacent pop hit.

It’s a filler. And it’s a bad one.

“¿Te comprende?” You’re almost yelling now, screaming in his face louder than you’ve ever screamed before. “¿Me necesitas para decirlo de nuevo?”

Another heavy pause. Chris’ voice is rough as he speaks, like ten grit sandpaper. “Yeah, I get it. I fucking get it.”

And with that, he grabs his side bag and stomps out of the conference room, grumbling something about high school Spanish and Despacito. You ignore his tantrum – unlike his father, who moves to run after him. You shoot daggers into the silver-haired ca, and he sits back down.

You push the too-sweet aftertaste of canned fruit to the back of your mouth. The thick resume paper slides out of your laptop-case-slash-important papers-folder with ease, the heavy five-hundred word essay on why you hate your job detailed in 12-font Times New Roman, pristine black letters nearly shining in the low light.

“That’s my letter of resignation,” you say, looking your boss dead in the eyes. With his jaw set the way it is, you expect to hear his teeth cracking before you could leave the boardroom.

“You know we can’t accept this,” his father says with a tone that’s much too close to a laugh. A nervous laugh, but one that makes you feel like he’s treating you as if you were a joke nonetheless. “You’re our only hope for this race.”

The second sheet of paper - or, rather, the small stack with a staple in the top right corner perfectly perpendicular to the nearest corner - hits the table next. “Then, these are my demands. Let me know by midnight tonight if you can meet them or not so I know whether or not to accept a job somewhere else.”

With that, you pick up your coat and leave.

The driver, a single mom in her mid-forties who is helping put her only son through college, laughs when you enter the backseat of her vehicle. It’s not condescending, not something you feel offended by. Rather, shame paints your face.

“Did Mr. Evans-Junior snap?” She asks as she pulls away. Her tone is knowing, too knowing. How long has she worked for the Evans anyway?

You sigh, then scream into your hands. The woman in front of you doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move a muscle as she waits for your reply. “He’s an idiot.”

The woman laughs. “That’s not what I asked, and I know you know that.”

You’re tempted to scream again, only a little louder. You don’t. “He snapped. I snapped,” you sigh again as you watch out the window. It’s late, too late for traffic to be like this. Fuck Boston. “Now I want to go home and take off my bra and wash off my make up and ger super drunk and shave all my hair off and quit my job and become a sheep herder in Iceland.”

The woman doesn’t disagree, doesn’t negate. She gives you the wonderful gift of silence until she drops you off, waving you goodbye.

“You have a good night,” she calls.

“I’ll do my best,” you shout back.

You’re alone in your apartment, dressed in the most comfortable (and expensive) pair of pajamas you own with red wine and some playlist titled an artsy version of “my life is very sad and my world is falling apart so I bought a $200 bottle of alcohol and hope I cry off my name-brand make up before I have to reemerge into the eyes of polite society,” when you get the text you’ve been dreading. It’s Chris, with his perfect capitalization and punctation and lack of emoji use. You’ve seen the way he texts the rest of the team, his family, his friends. He only pulls that shit with you.

Fuck, you think as you open the message. That kid’s really gotta loosen up. Isn’t weed legal in Massachusetts? He’s a Democrat, there’s no excuse.

He’s asking if he can come over, because of course he is. You’re just lucky the message is something closer to “I feel bad and wish to speak about it with you in person” instead of the crass “u up” you expected. Still, when the three dots at the bottom of the screen appear once again, you assume it’s going to be a picture of his junk that loads.

“Please,” is all the text says.

You acquiesce, sending him something akin to a “Fine but if you step out of line again your ass is going to be explaining why you fucked up to the cold-as-fuck pavement outside.”

You hear the knock at your door thirty minutes later (you often forget how shitty Boston traffic is), opening it to reveal the saddest white boy you’ve ever seen in your short life.

His chestnut hair is disheveled enough to indicate he’d had half of a sleepless night. This is the most casual you’ve seen him – basketball shorts with another Godforsaken Harvard hoodie with Nike sneakers – bags under his eyes completing the “sad frat boy who probably just flunked a chem exam” kind of look.

“Can I come inside?” he asks.

You sigh, trying to figure out how your life came to this. A jerk of your chin allows him entry into your small apartment, every surface littered with physical copies of presentations and a map of Massachusetts covered in stickers and sticky notes and scribbles of poll numbers from past campaigns. To Chris’ untrained eye it all looks like the homestead of a serial killer, but to anyone else on his campaign it’s his ticket to the senate. Politics is a game, a game with very public winners and losers and those who fall between; anyone who doesn’t study all of those outcomes is destined to find themselves either a) in a vacation home in the hills of Vermont drunk as hell, or b) running for president.

(You’ve considered how likely both of those possibilities are, and part of you fears he’ll do both).

There’s a heavy, awkward silence that falls over the room as you both sit down, facing each other.

“So,” you ask awkwardly. “Do you want, uh, a beer…or something?”

Chris shakes his head. “No, I’m, uh, I’m alright. Thanks.”

You sigh a little, relieved. “Good, because all I have is very expensive red wine and judging by our past interactions it is not worth having it spilled all over my white carpet.”

For a moment it’s obvious he doesn’t realize that you’re kidding, but after a few seconds of a facial expression that’s a perfect blend of concerned, rejected, and confused – he lets a little smile get past his façade.

“Yeah, uh,” he laughs. “That sounds like a bitch to clean up.”

What follows is a few minutes of incredibly awkward silence as he looks around your house once more and you take the opportunity to look at him.

It’s weird to see him in this state – it’s weird to see him as something human.

Still, you want to snap at him when he breaks the quiet.

“I want to do better,” he says, voice small. He avoids meeting your eyes, wrings his hands while he looks at the floor. “I thought about what you said and I,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I want to do better…for you.”

You sigh, placing your red wine on the side table next to you before clasping your hands together. “Look, if you’re winning this election for me-“

“I’m not,” Chris says way too defensively. You let it slide for your own sanity.

“If you’re doing this for me, you’re going to be disappointed. Mostly because what your father wants and what I want are two very different things,” Chris opens his mouth to speak again but you hold you hand up to silence him. “Listen, I have a few rules with my clients. The first one is don’t lie to me. We can talk around this all day outside the boundaries of this home, but if you can look me in the eye on my couch while I drink my wine and tell me you’re doing this for a love of the people or whatever, I’m going to need you to leave.”

Chris gives you a single silent nod.

“But, if you want to win this shitshow…” you drink the rest of the glass in a single gulp. “Then, yeah. Let’s fucking do this.”

Chris lights up.

“But, I have some rules.”

He nods silently, allowing you to continue.

You count off on your fingers. “Don’t lie to me. When I ask a question, answer it. If I don’t ask a question, answer it anyway. I want to know everything, got it?”

Chris nods.

“The only time I don’t want you to speak is when I tell you to shut the fuck up. You got that, too?”

Chris nods again.

“Good, then I have a sneaking suspicion this will work out just fine.”

#chris evans x reader #lukis writes stuff #senator evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine

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bobathirstaccount · 11 months

Text

AU - Business Trip Pt 2

You meet the new sales exec at a company offsite…

Boba x fem!reader, no smut (yet)

***

You woke up bright and early. Curious if Boba would be around, you went to breakfast as soon as it began, 6am sharp. Hardly anyone else was there yet. You got a big plate of food and some coffee and ate peacefully. People started showing up, but there was no sign of Boba or anyone else that you knew. You were about to go back up to your room until the first session, but then you saw him. Trying to be casual about it, you beelined to Boba.

He was chatting with the pretty blonde from the night before. You tried to ignore that. He smiled at you, “Good morning.”

Returning his smile, you nodded. The blonde continued, “Well anyway, can’t wait for our lunch meeting, Boba.”

“Same,” he nodded at her. She took the cue and went to enter the buffet line.

“You’re welcome to join us too, you know,” he commented.

Flustered, you responded, “Oh.” You paused awkwardly before adding, “Thanks.”  He nodded, “Anyway, I’m gonna get in line. See you at lunch.” You watched him walk away. Hoping no one saw, you retreated to your room.

***  You watched the pretty blonde sit next to Boba. She leaned in to tell him something private. You were inappropriately annoyed. You looked away before it could ruin your mood totally.

“Oooh, so how’s it going with your love interest, Mr. Head of Sales,” your bestie whispered at you. Startled, you whipped your head in her direction. “Omigosh, you scared me!” You whispered back, “And…. It’s…uh… going?” You realized you’d said too much and clammed up.

She pried, “You can’t stop now. I’m too intrigued.” She nudged you playfully.

“Oh. Well.” You were torn.

Suddenly she was discreetly squeezing your hand. Under her breath, she said, “He’s looking at you.”  You got hot, “Okay so, let’s act normal. Okay. So. He and that blonde next to him are having lunch together. But - he also invited me. What do you think about that?”  ”I think he’s got a hottie that’s after him, and he’s busy checking you out.” You got even hotter. “Uh,” you said nervously. She smiled, but didn’t forget to play it cool. “So anyway, I’m totally going to lunch with you. I’ll run interference on Miss Beauty Pageant.”

You snorted a laugh, but made yourself frown at her, “That’s not very nice.”  She shrugged, “You’re my bestie, not her.”

You grinned at her and squeezed her hand back. “Well, it’s still not very nice…”

The two of you stopped talking abruptly. The CEO had started speaking to the crowd. Everyone respectfully settled down. You glanced at Boba one more time before focusing. He was waiting for his boss to speak. The blonde shot you a weird look, then settled in as well. You tried to not let it irrationally irritate you.

***  His foot touched yours under the table. At least, you were pretty sure it was his foot. True to her word, your friend had shown up to lunch extremely chipper and talkative. She was engaging ‘Miss Beauty Pageant’ at every conversation point she could.

Glancing in Boba’s direction, you risked nudging the foot back. He smiled and looked over at you for just a second. Then he returned his focus to the conversation at hand. Your friend was still masterfully controlling it. Boba turned back to you, “So, what’re you doing between our last session and dinner? I was thinking we could go to the bar again. I have another whiskey I want you to try; I think you’ll like this one.”  You smiled, feeling hot and fluttery. “Okay, well we’ll see I guess. You wanna meet right after session?”  ”Sure, why not?”  “Oh, that sounds so fun!” Miss BP broke free of your friend’s conversational grasp. Boba turned to them both, “Of course, you’re both welcome to join. It’ll be a little mixer between sales and finance.”

“Sounds great!” You and your friend exchanged a very brief glance before stating your ‘excitement.’

***  It ended up that most of the sales team was there at the bar. They had heard their new boss was drinking and, presumably, wanted to bond further with him over some non work activity.

Boba graciously bought a round for everyone. As a finance person, you immediately began calculating the cost. He turned to you, “Stop trying to add it up. I can tell, your eyes have glazed over a little bit. C’mon, human calculator, try this whiskey.” He pushed the glass towards you a bit. Smiling at his light teasing, you took a slightly bigger sip than you should have. You started coughing. It was very Hot in your mouth and throat. And very strong - you could feel it going to your head as you recovered from your coughing fit. Wiping away your tears, you watched as the blonde also tried the whiskey.

“Ohh, so warm and smooth,” she leaned in towards Boba. “I really like it.”  ”Oh good, I’m glad to have introduced you to a very expensive habit.” He casually took a drink while she laughed.

“Get another one to try. For team building,” your friend chimed in. You glanced at her, unsure of her motives.

Boba nodded, “Let me think… Let’s go with my next favorite whiskey.” He motioned the bartender over. She smiled at him while she took his order. You wondered how much this one added to the bill as she poured three fingers.

Pushing the glass towards you, he said, “You first, so you stop worrying about the cost.” You laughed nervously as you tried the third whiskey. This one was less terrible, you decided. Boba shrugged at your opinion, “Okay - so we’re going in the right direction here.” He politely offered the glass to Miss BP. She took a big sip, “Oooh, very nice.”

She continued speaking, very obviously to Boba only. But you were too distracted by the hand that had landed on your knee to process the sounds coming out of her mouth.

“Say, we should try a new category. What about gin?” You had tried several gins you’d found acceptable. The blonde stopped talking abruptly, having been interrupted. Boba chimed in, sounding casual, “Not a gin person. Let’s try your favorite.”

You got hot for a second, but luckily the name popped into your head right away. “Gordon’s!” You exclaimed.

Boba called the bartender over again as Miss Beauty Pageant commented, “Surely we can try something classier! I used to drink that when I was 16 and it was all I could afford.” She laughed.

Boba shrugged, “That’s really young to be drinking…”  Your friend shot you an amused look as Miss BP sputtered a response. You ignored her, as the glass of Gordon’s had arrived. Boba took the first sip, this time.

“Oh, nice,” he said warmly, “I’d have this again.” He threw back the rest of it. Someone on his team noticed and started hooting about him throwing back shots. Boba put his hands up. “Just the one,” he said to the crowd, who laughed and cheered him on to do another one. “No, no, one was more than enough,” he said with finality.

***  ”Okay, absolutely no more,” Boba said after another shot. The team whined. “I have to present to you guys and ladies tomorrow, you know,” he said congenially. You smiled at his demeanor.

The team bought him another shot anyway. He sat with it in front of him. He was in a pickle. You shot your friend a look and found her giving you a meaningful wink. You rescued him and hurriedly grabbed the glass. Chugging it, you snorted, “Omigosh, they were trying to poison you!”

The team laughed as someone yelled, “That was $250 you just drank!”

After promising the bartenders and security they’d be quiet, the sales team settled back at their seats. You saw Boba yawn.  ”Past your bedtime?” You winked at him, feeling definitely Not Sober.

“Yeah. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow’s another one.” He stood. He made the rounds to say his goodnights. Your rival attached herself when he left. They walked off together, chatting easily. Your bestie poked you in the ribs. “What are you waiting for! Grab the same elevator.” She pushed you off the barstool too hard, causing you to nearly fall. But she had a good idea. Without turning back, you heeded her advice and headed to the back of the lobby. You turned the corner just in time to make eye contact with Boba. The doors closed as you saw him try to stop them by button mashing. But it was too late. He was alone with Miss BP.

Instead of returning to the bar with news of failure, you texted it as you waited for the next elevator up.

-ok so like

-u have his #📱

-so def text him sumthin

You considered.

-what tho?

You returned.

She countered.

-literralllly anything

-i’m finishing this 🍹 then goingt o bed

-im def at my limit

You laughed, but reminded.

-be careful and mindful ok? <3

-btw if u think of something to text him lmk; idk what to

By the time you had gotten back to your room and the door closed behind you, she had text back.

-ok. going2 room. txt 🌶 2 him night luv u

You considered as you wished her a good night and reminded her to take some Ibuprofen. You grabbed some for yourself. You took a hot shower, then checked yourself out in the full length mirror in the bedroom. You took a couple selfies. Hm. No, it was too much. Was it? Definitely. This was work. Work, you reminded yourself harshly. But yet… he had put his hand on your knee at drinks, and had also played footsie at lunch. But was that all just harmless flirting? Your phone buzzed.

-hey. wanted to say goodnight and thx for introducing me 2 that gin hope u liked the whiskey a little 🥃

You grinned. Then you looked at your selfies again. Hm. You got another text.

-also. what ⏰ are you eating breakfast?

You text back neutrally.

-idk depends on if im hungover 😵

-lol ok lmk tomorrow morning ill c u then 😊🫂

You got giddy. You edited one of your selfies a bit giving it a subtle vignette and increasing the vibrance a bit. Having some sense of decorum, you blurred your nips and bikini area. Without letting yourself think, you sent the photo.

-[image]

-if u wanna c uncensored… i hope u remember my room #

There was a few minutes of silence. You freaked out. What had you just done? You started to feel mortified.

-i do

You waited for more of a reply. What did that mean?? He wanted to see you uncensored, or that he remembered your room? Both? Neither? You panicked again.

Suddenly a noise startled you. You jumped up, your phone slipping out of your hands. You stood stock still. What had it been? The TV? You eyed it suspiciously. Then you heard an unmistakable knock at your door. You put two and two together and remained frozen, unable to move out of anxiety and surprise. Was it really Boba?? Your Hot Guy?

Suddenly you grew bold. You ran to the door butt naked and peered through the peephole. Shakily, you undid the extra locks and opened the door a crack.

#boba x reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett x female reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett fic #boba fett x fem!reader #modern au #long fanfic #long fic #reader insert

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

The Intern (CliffxReader Pt. 2)

Pt. 1 :)

Requested by @perawuat

@tealaquinn

Let me know if you wanna be added to either the basterds or OUATIH taglist :)

You grinned widely as you reached for your diploma. You looked out into the crowd, your radiant smile reminiscent of a sunflower as you looked to the cameras and did a peace sign with your left hand as you raised your diploma with your right.

You finally graduated.

You had a big job in a hotshot Hollywood production to show for all your hard work.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid...

You looked out at the crowd, spotting dozens of familiar faces.

You found your family among the sea of pride.

And by them, two empty seats.

Rick and Cliff couldn't make it. They were in Italy...

You sighed softly. It as a bittersweet moment. They were doing the best they could, you couldn’t be mad at them.

The next few days your family kept you fairly busy. They’d flown in from out of state. You didn’t mind the company. Especially since the summer felt a little empty without Rick and Cliff to deal with.

But as the summer wound down, so did your work.

You moved out of your old apartment, leaving Ziggy, Rowan, and Odie...

You moved into a high-rise apartment in west Hollywood.

It was your first time ever living completely alone. You had a place all to yourself, no brothers barging in or bathroom hogging sisters. No roomates.

And still...

....no Cliff and Rick...

Nothing....

You sighed, and muttered a despondent, “Groovy...” As you looked up at your new building.

You took a breath, and took the elevator to the fifteenth floor, and walked down the long hall to your apartment.

You stopped, seeing a bouquet of red roses at the doorstep. You wondered if it was from the apartments landlady... She seemed like an old fashioned person.

You picked up a card that came with it, expecting it to be complimentary.

But...you knew that writing.

You smiled a little, and sighed a little more cheerfully, "oh Cliff..."

You sighed, flopping onto the second hand couch from a garage sale that you’d hastily strewn in the middle of the empty living room.

Your living room.

You read the card.

Cliff apologized for missing your graduation and not being there to help with the boxes. He also added a million little things to make you blush.

You held the letter against your chest as you presided over the rows of brown boxes scattered around the room.

You smiled a little as you looked through the first box. The first thing you picked out was a framed picture of you and Cliff.

You smiled, knowing you'd finally made a life of your own, and that he was part of it.

And you knew you really had it together a few months later, when you were invited to a party. A big Hollywood party.

The movie you'd worked on had been nominated for a few Academy Awards, including for best cinematography...which you'd had a big hand in.

You met a few big names at the party, and a few familiar faces. The night was young, and you danced there with the stars and the writers that gave Hollywood it's lights. After a while you stepped aside to grab a drink. You looked at the scene, your new friends, and future.

Rick had been rigth all along... You were going to make it big.

As you took a sip of your drink, you overheard something behind a nearby table.

There were a few older and frankly snobby producers talking, and avoiding the younger crowd. They'd been talking about some projects they had been looking into.

The name Rick Dalton came up, and you raised your eyebrow in curiosity.

"Rick Dalton is an old, washed up chain smoking alcoholic has-been who's still waiting to happen!" The group of producers broke out laughing as he went on, "Won't be long till he drinks himself into a grave!"

Your blood boiled...

You'd been trying to get Rick to get help. You'd been making progress, until he had to go to Italy.

The producer went on, "Or worse. Lets himself go, gets a beer belly, and lets those pothead hippies melt his brain! And that pal of his, Cliff Boot."

One of the other producers corrected him. "Booth."

He nodded, "Booth. Killed his woman, didn't he? What's he still doing on sets? Bad luck. Don't want Dalton or that scumbag anywhere near me."

Another man stood between you and the circle of snobs. He smiled, "Say, aren't you that talented young lady what worked on that western?"

You nodded, "Yes, sir."

He smiled, "Say, O'Mara, this is the young lady that worked on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid!"

The producer that had been ripping on Rick and Cliff turned around, with a wide, yellow, broken grin, reached his hand out to shake yours, but you stepped away in disgust, maybe hurting your relatively young and vulnerable career.

But to you it was worth every second seeing those snob's blood boiling.

"Don't get too cocky, O'Mara. You wrote Rick Dalton's first check, and then ripped him off when he got too big for you. Of course he's having a rough time, you all turned your backs on someone that made every single one of you a pretty goddamn penny, while he and Cliff are scratching and barely surviving. You should all be ashamed of yourselves, listening to that fucking rumor like a bunch of teenagers listening to Paul Anka. The man's a war hero, for crying out loud, and you're a fucking draft dodger. So no. Don't ask me to shake the hand of a man who turned his back on people he owes everything to."

Before things escalated, the man that had attemtped to introduce you to the producers stepped in, spoke fast, made them laugh, and ordererd drinks all around.

As the producers picked up gossip about other 'has beens,' the mystery man took you aside, "I like your work, and I like your spunk, you're a good kid."

You smiled a little, and he went on, "How about I let you in on a little secret, kid? All those old boys back there? Tearing apart actors because they’re jealous. And when they’re not with each other, they tear each other apart, because they all want this." He raised up a briefcase.

"What's that?" You laughed a little, seeing the quirky, odd character gripping the case as if it were worth the world..

He smiled, "Well, kid, this here's the next big thing in Hollywood what's gon' get somebody an Oscar, or an Academy Award round this time next year."

"So you're a writer?"

He nodded with glee, "Writer, director, as of now sole producer. But I still need my crew, and my stars. And kid, I seen the wonders you've done down at NBC and for that picture. So, once I get this show on the road, are you willing to get in on it?"

You could not have felt happier, "Absolutely!"

He smiled, "Well then, I need some stars, don't I? How about I talk to your friends about this, huh?"

"M-my friends?"

He nodded, "Mr. Dalton, and his stuntman, I hear they're a damn good team!"

You nodded, proud that some people still knew them as what they were, "That's right, sir."

He smiled, "I pictured Rick in this role. It's not exactly his regular western character, but, it's new, its fresh! It'll give him a new face, a new chance! I see him as...." He grinned, looking into the distance as he waved his hands, as if the name was appearing in front of you on a screen, "Hudson Murdock! International spy!" He sighed in satisfaction, "We’ll knock Bond out of the water! And probably knock that guy, Cliff into the water!"

You both chuckled, and he asked, "Think they'll be interested?"

"I think so, sir."

He smiled, "Please, kid, call me Rudy!" He handed you a business card, and then a pen and a paper so you could write your number, Rick, and Cliff's down for him.

He took the paper after you were done, and hid it away safely with the script he guarded with his life, "Be in touch soon, will ya kid? They'll be home from Italy, soon I'll bet."

You nodded, "Yes, sir."

He titled his head, "Come on, kid."

You sighed and smiled a little, "Rudy."

He smiled, "Alright, that's better, kid." He gestured to the growing crowd of young party goers, "Go on, have fun before the real work starts!"

Despite the rocky moments with producers, and the inevitable burning of a bridge or two, you couldn't get over the fact that you'd just gotten Rick and Cliff a new big shot in Hollywood...

Still, the adrenaline and fun started to wash down the more the night went on. By the time you were home that night, you were a little more than just uneasy.

Cliff was supposed to call you and let you know he'd made it home safe with Rick.

You were sure they wre going to get blind drunk together, 'one last time,' thinking it was the end of the line...

Of course, they didnt' know about your development...and you'd let them have their fun for the night.

You could wait a million years for Cliff.

Or...you thought...

It just wasn't like him

Even in Italy, he called you every single night. Now that he was home, there was no excuse.

You spent the next half hours or so debating and reasoning with yourself....

Maybe they knocked out because of jet lag? Maybe they were drunk because they drank on the plane? Maybe the phones weren't working? Maybe he went straight to get Brandy? Maybe he wasn on his way to yours?

The possibilities were endless....

Still, there was that constant, nagging, feeling wringing your heart...

Ringing...

The phone was rining.

On the third ring, you picked up.

It was Rick.

You glanced up at the clock.

12:55 AM...

Your eyes went wide as Rick quickly and calmly tried to explain every thing that happened in the last half hour without giving you a panic attack.

12:56 AM...

"HE WHAT?!"

Rick replied, "H-he's o-k, don't w-worry! He-"

"He got stabbed! And-"

"He-He'll be ok, Y/n, everything's fine!"

"And you? Are you ok?!"

He chuckled a little out of tension, but mostly because he just missed hearing from a friend like you, "I'm uh...I'm actually at the neighbor's right now. Everything's ok, Y/n, don’t worry."

"The Polanski's?" You felt a little ease in your shoulders, knowing Rick finally got what he'd been wishing for for months.

"Yeah..." You could practically hear the smile, "But I'll meet you and Cliff bright and early tomorrow. We're ok, honey, don't worry. Get some sleep, he's ok."

"Ok..."

Rick sighed, knowing you better than you gave him credit for, "Oh, and Y/n?"

"Yeah, Rick?" You held the phone between your shoulder and your cheek as you reached between the couch cushions for your car keys.

Rick chuckled, "Drive safe."

You smiled a little and shook your head once.

You practically raced to the hospital, giving Cliff and every other stunt double in Hollywood a run for their moeny.

Your heart skipped a beat, stopped, and broke al at once when you saw Cliff again... After six months...t felt like a lifetime,

And it felt like even longer seeing him like that.

You knew he was going to be alright. Rick told you so. The doctors told you. The nurses told you...

But you didn't believe it until you saw him for yourself.

"Cliff..."

He looked up at you, clearly tired. Of course, the acid, the fight, the stabbing, and the morphine were behind that. Still, he shifted trying to get up to get to you.

"No, no, stay down, it's ok..." You sat by him, rested your hands in his and smiled softly.

To him you were nothing less than an angel...

Especially with the drugs (legal and illegal) and the bright white hospital lights behind you. "Y/n....you...you came? Told Rick to tell ya to get some sleep I-"

"That's crazy talk."

He took your hand and pulled it up slowly to his lips, and kissed your hand softly. He looked up with soft eyes, "I'm sorry, baby...I should've gone home, should've gone to see ya..."

You shook your head, "If you had, there's no telling what would've happened...Best not to think of that, not now."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

You shook your head, and rested your hadn against hisncheek, "Best is yet to come, Cliff." You smiled cheekily.... you'd tell him about the party the next day.

Until then... You gave him a kiss, and said, "Get some rest, Cliff."

"Only if you do, baby..."

You nodded, "I will, I will."

He chuckled a little, through the meds and drugs, and mumbled and hummed "Dream a little dream of me..." as he fell asleep, holding onto you desparately.

Somewhere deep in his mind, he was scared you were a hallucination...He wanted to hold you enar and dear. He wished Italy and that night never happened. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side.

When you woke up, it was nearly noon, and the sunlight was streaming through the blinds. You'd fallen asleep on the chair by Cliff's bed, with your head against his chest. His arm was around you still. And you could hear the warm hum of his voice through his chest as you woke up slowly.

You could hear Rick too.

"Goddamn, Y/n and Francesca are gonna get along, they sleep like logs."

You smiled a little as you stood up to hug Rick.

He smiled at you, and shook his head, "You wanna tell me how the hell you managed to save me and Cliff's careers in one night?"

You shrugged, and playfully "Hey, when you got it, you got it."

Cliff guffawed, but then immediately held his wound, "Shit, Y/n, you oughta be the one carryin' Rick's load then!"

You rolled you reyes with a cheaky smile and sighed, "Anyone would've done the same."

Rick sighed, "Oh, honey, you don't know Hollywood just yet."

Cliff said, "What we're tryna say baby is thank you."

"Ah, it's nothing." "You got us some work!" Cliff looked at Rick, and they were both relieved, knowing it wasn't quite the end of the line. "We knew you'd make it far..." Rick saw the way Cliff smiled and looked at you. It was all clearer now that Cliff wasn't wearing sunglasses. Rick smirked a little, as he chuckled, "I'll go ahead an' leave you two alone for a while." You covered your face as your rubbed your eyes, "Oh, come on Rick!" Cliff chuckled, "I wIsH!" You looked to Cliff, "Cliff!" He laughed a little as he reached out for you. You heard Rick closing the door as he left. You sat by Cliff again, and he kissed you. "Told you everything would be ok, kid." "Yeah?" "Yeah..." He nodded. "Rick was right. You made it. You're not just an intern anymore...and me and Rick are gonna be ok, and you n me are more than ok." You smirked a little, looking down a tthe ground for a moment, then back at Cliff, "Yeah, we are..." He rested his hands on the sides of your face, his thumbs pressed against your cheek. It wasn't something he did often, but you weren't complaining. Because in that moment, everything mattered. The past six months had been hell, and the past night was a nightmarish trip. His blue eyes were wide open then. Everything realy was ok... And you could see that in his eyes: The hope and love the 'washed up' stuntman hadn't felt in a decade or two. And he owed it all to you, the intern.

#ouatih #once upon a time in hollywood #cliff booth #cliff booth x reader #rick dalton

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jeonsduck · 4 years

Text

Smoke and Mirrors pt 6

Y/N puts 2 and 2 together

warngings: cursing, kidnapping, mentions of blood and death

You had said you weren’t going to make anything official until after you finished the case. You were going to keep it professional. That didn’t even last 24 hours. In your defense, San was hot and really good at fucking you and to be honest, you didn’t want to wait until the investigation was over. Which was how you often found yourself bent over either your or San’s desk at work. Or spread out on the backseat of his car, or anywhere he could convince you to let him put his hand down your pants. And he tried it a LOT. The guy was like a machine, but honestly you weren’t complaining. And it wasn’t just sex either. San had started buying you gifts, very expensive gifts. If the lunch he bought you the first time you met qualified as a bribe, you’d hate to see what the administration thought of the designer laptop bag, shoes, coat, and jewelry. You didn’t dare go shopping with San anymore, because if you looked at anything for longer than two seconds, he would buy it for you.

“Mhm, I could come home with you again and we could rack up some more noise complaints from your neighbors.” San offered.

You were perched on his lap, reviewing your files. Correction: trying to review your files. San was pressing wet kisses to the sensitive spot on your neck and his hand was already under your shirt, so it was very hard to focus. You squirmed when he bit at the junction between your shoulder and your neck, barely holding in a yelp.

“Sannie, stop it.”

He chuckled, but his hooked his head over your shoulder innocently and tightened his hold on your waist.

“So what do you think?” he murmured, playing with a strand of your hair.

“I think that sounds very tempting, but we both have work to do right now. Besides, I have to go to the FBI and talk to Agent Heejin and pretend that I’m not fucking you.” you said, squinting at the papers in front of you.

These were the notes you made when you had that fever and were totally out of your mind, and none of it made any sense. You might need to go back and look at the original documents…

“First of all, baby, I’m the one that fucks you, let’s keep that straight. Second, that’s gonna be pretty hard with a hickey the size of Mexico isn’t it?” San whispered in your ear, making a shiver run down your neck.

“What hickey are you talking abo- hey!” you jolted when San nipped at your neck before starting to suck a bruise into the flesh.

“Hey, stop it!” you batted at his arm and got up. San held you tighter, resting his head on your back.

“I’m sorry, I was just fooling around don’t leave. It’s so boring in this room without you.” he pouted and you sighed.

“I’d love to, but I need to go get some original documents from the file room. I’ll see you later.” You said, removing San’s arms from your waist,

He grumbled but let you go without putting up anymore of a fight. He did grab your wrist and drag you back against him to peck you on the lips one last time. You rolled your eyes and left before he could get another crazy idea to keep you in his office. When you passed by Keran’s desk, she was wearing noise canceling headphones. Oops.

There was something seriously wrong with the records that were in front of you. You were looking at all the guys payments for San’s accounting services. The payments were made once a week, way too often for something that should be billed monthly. The amount was the same every time, but the frequency was way too high. San’s services could be expensive, sure but this number was astronomical. And then there was the amount that was being paid to Yunho and Mingi for security services. Similarly, the amount was way too high, payments too frequent. And the money wasn’t being sent from commercial accounts, but personal ones. What the hell…

“Y/N, it’s time to go! We shouldn’t keep your FBI Agent waiting.” San said, poking his head in your office. You startle and shove the pages between your laptop before snapping it closed.

“Yeah, let’s head out.”

While you didn’t have a huge hickey on your neck, Agent Heejin did recognize San’s car when it pulled into the lot.

“I honestly don’t even know where to BEGIN with the mess you’re in right now, but since your investigation hasn’t turned up any suspicious activity yet and I don’t think it will, I won’t waste my breath.” she sighed, slamming a manila folder down on her desk. It flopped open and a large full page picture fell out. It was a tattoo, partially covered in blood. It looked hauntingly familiar, but with the blood covering it, you couldn’t be sure.

“Wait, I think I’ve seen that tattoo before…” you said, stopping Heejin before she put it back in the folder.

“Really? Where?”

“I’m not sure, there’s so much blood. Can I take a picture of it?” you asked, and Heejin held the page out.

“Yeah sure. Let me know if you remember where you saw it?” she says as you snap a picture of the page.

“Of course. See you next week.” you said, making your exit.

The whole way back to your apartment you were thinking about the tattoo. It was so very familiar. Where had you seen it before?

San always let you invite him up instead of just following you into your apartment. You called him up, even though you didn’t have any ulterior motives tonight. San was fine with that, just as content to cuddle you and Noodles on the couch while you watched Chopped reruns.

San was playing with your hair, and you got tired pretty quickly. At this point San had a couple changes of clothes at your place in case he stayed the night. A few more weeks of this and he might get his own toothbrush holder. You snorted at your joke as you walked back into your bedroom, to find San laying face down on your bed, petting Noodles. You eyes drifted to his left shoulder, his tattoo out on display because he tended to sleep with his shirt off. Suddenly, you were hit with a series of flashbacks. The tattoo that curled up Keran’s arm, the flash of ink you’d seen on Wooyoung’s stomach when you met him. The bloodied image of a tattoo on your phone. They were different, obviously adapted for different parts of the body and each customer’s preference, but they were essentially the same tattoo. Why did San Wooyoung, and Keran have the same tattoo as a dead person in an FBI file? Were they really triad members?

“Babe, is something wrong? Come to bed.” San smiled over his shoulder at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you tried to call Agent Heejin but she didn’t answer. You left at least 10 messages, but nothing. In between calls you continued to review that discrepancies you’d discovered. Yeosang’s jewelry business was making huge sales on extremely generic pieces of jewelry. The security firm was getting payments from random small businesses across town. Laundromats, tattoo parlors, restaurants. Not the calibre of clients they usually catered to. All of the companies Seonghwa was contracted to were shell companies. And strangest of all were the huge sums of money being paid too and from Hongjoong, by San. You couldn’t see where this money was going, not without looking at San’s financial records.

Technically, what you’d already seen gave you the right to look at San’s records as well. But for some reason you were terrified.

When you think back on it, deep down , some part of you knew the truth. Not the whole truth, not yet, but you knew San wasn’t the innocent ball of sunshine you thought him to be. And you also knew it was going to be a struggle to present this new knowledge without San finding out. And if the ship started sinking, he’d know it was you who sold him out. And you had no idea how powerful San was, didn’t know how deep his pockets were, what all he could do.

So, you pulled down the box of San’s records, opened a binder and got to work.

When you left work that day, you acted as normally as possible. You had the binder of San’s records as well as the others in your bag and you pretended it wasn’t weighing you down like a rock.

San kissed you goodbye when he dropped you off, and you kissed him back. You went upstairs and watched his car drive away. Then you grabbed your keys and ran back down to your car. You hadn’t turned in over in weeks, maybe a few months now. You peeled out of the parking lot as fast as you dared to and sped to the FBI Headquarters. You kept glancing in your rearview mirrors, afraid that you would see San’s car behind you.

When you parked at Heejin’s office building, there was a moment where you sat there, thinking about what you were about to do. You liked San a lot. A lot a lot. But this was your job. And you didn’t really know him, not really. The more you thought about it, the more you realized. You’d never even set foot in San’s apartment. He had access to you 24/7.

Suddenly your phone rang, startling you. The screen lit up with a picture of San you’d taken a while ago when he hadn’t wanted to get out of your bed on a Saturday. Noodles was curled into his side.

You breathed in, sent his call to voicemail, and put your phone on silent. You breathed out, grabbed your files and got out of the car.

“Let’s do this , Y/N.”

When you got up to Heejin’s floor you were surprised to find she wasn’t at her desk. One of her coworkers saw you come in and smiled sadly.

“You looking for Heejin?”

“Yeah, is she out.”

“We had an emergency on a big case last night. Heejin got hit and…. She’s dead.” they said solemnly.

You felt off kilter. What? “Yeah it’s really shocking. But weren’t you just here yesterday?” they asked.

“I found something.” you said, holding up your binders.

They quirked an eyebrow and led you to a conference room. You explained the discrepancies in the financial records and what you knew about the tattoo. You didn’t mention the fact that you’d been sleeping with San.

“Well, it’ll probably be a few days before they hand this case over to someone else, but as soon as they do, I’ll give them this. In the meantime, be careful about that accountant.” they said.

It was out of your hands now. You just didn’t know what to do about San. You were spared from agonizing over that detail when two strange men approached you. Same uniform as San’s bodyguards, but different men. You could see a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of one man’s shirt. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. How did they know?

You turned and broke into a sprint, running the opposite direction. They walked leisurely towards you, and you ran straight into someone else as you came around the corner. Wooyoung.

“Where are you going in such a rush, hmm?” he drawled.

The next thing you know, your had a black hood shoved over your head and were being dragged across the parking lot. You struggled, but whoever had a hold of you was strong, and you were unable to even get one hand free.

“Help! Let me go, HELP!” you yelled and heard Wooyoung chuckle.

“Don’t shout yourself hoarse. There’s no one around to hear you.” he admonished and you writhed again, trying to get loose.

It was futile, the person carrying you hauling you up and into the trunk of a car.

“San’s gonna kill us for putting them in the trunk.” Jongho’s voice said.

“We can deal with San later.” Wooyoung replied.

You heard two car doors open and close, and the car started. You tried to keep track of how many turns the car was taking, but panic was slowly taking over, and you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the odds of them killing you.

After who knows how long, the car came to a stop and you relaxed slightly. The trunk was opened and you were hauled out, assumingly by Jongho. He set you on your feet and started dragging you… somewhere. The hood was still on your head, and you nearly tripped on a step on the floor.

“Oh, whoops. Here, there’s a step.” Jongho said.

Okay, so maybe your survival chances were higher than you thought. It felt like you walked for a long time before Jongho finally sat you in a chair. Your hands and ankles were tied to keep you in place and the hood was finally taken off. You squinted at the harsh white light, trying to shield your eyes with your shoulder.

“I thought we had a deal. You’re always supposed to answer if I call.” San said.

Your eyes focused to see him looking like a James Bond villain, sitting behind a large desk petting Noodles. How did he get Noodles?

“How did you-?” you started but San cut you off with a chuckle.

“I’ve had a key to your apartment for months now. Not that I need one to get in. But that’s beside the point. You didn’t pick up when I called.” San said.

“So, what you kidnapped me because I didn’t answer your call?” you asked.

“No, I kidnapped you because you were about to sell us out. My baby is very smart, aren’t you?” he says, standing up and walking around the desk to hold you by your chin.

“So you are triad.” you sneer.

“Mmmm, not exactly. But we are criminals.” he said.

San let that sink in for a moment and you scowled at him.

“Did you kill Agent Heejin?” you asked.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t even send the order for that. That was Hongjoong. Your old supervisor on the other hand….” he trailed off.

“She’s been missing for weeks… you killed her? Why?” you asked.

“She made you cry, that day I came to visit you at the office.” he explained, like it was a simple chain of events to follow.

“Oh my God, you’re fucking sick.” you say, but San just laughs sharply.

“No, what was sick was what I did to your coworker.” he corrected.

You stared at him, blankly, processing his words.

“You killed Jacob? You did that- HE WAS MY FRIEND, YOU BASTARD!” tears quickly sprung to your eyes, and San wiped them away with his thumbs. You jerked your face out of his hold, but you could only go so far away. He tutted at you, holding you still so he could clear the tears from your cheeks,

“Hold still. I know he was your friend but.. I didn’t know, I’m sorry baby. I really am.” he said.

It was true, he felt awful about killing Jacob. San had killed a lot of people and rarely felt guilt for it. But for him, he really was sorry.

“He didn’t even do anything to me. Why’d you kill him?” you screeched, but San didn’t even flinch.

“He- I thought he was trying to make a move on you. You’re mine, Y/N.” San said with conviction.

You stared blankly at him.

“No I don’t San.”

San growled, tipping your head back.

“Yes you are. Your entire life belongs to me.” he said.

“Good luck controlling me from prison”, you snarled back.

San chuckled at that. He pet your hair, smiling down at you.

“Oh, baby… I’m not going to jail.” San said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The evidence I handed over was pretty compelling.” you said, and San couldn’t help it, laughing at you.

“Darling, who do you this was the ‘higher-up’ asking for you to be on this case? Baby, who do you think started this investigation?” he drawled.

You stared at him in shock, but how did he do that? How long had San been watching you?

“I’m the one in charge here, and don’t you ever forget that.”

#ateez #san #ateez san #choi san x reader #choi san #ateez x reader #san fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

Dodging Death Pt 4 (Hakuno, Emiya, Gilgamesh Caster)

Previously: 1 2 3

____

“Good evening Hakuno,” the man purred.

Hakuno looked up at that face, noting the fine lines and the aristocratic nature. He had those thick eyelashes and those dark eyes right now, making her stare at him evening more. She could hear that voice, speaking sensibly, but there was an accent.

There was a very nice accent on that voice, she thought, listening more to the sound of that soft timbre.

He was going on and on about something until she closed her eyes.

Then he was shaking her gently again.

“Hakuno,” he tried, attempting to awaken her.

Her arms reached up, pulling the man down to her and kissing him soundly on the lips.

The whole situation with Emiya had been a mess. She appreciated her friend, respected him deeply, but there had been a hope that he would find her to be someone worth dating. She’d hoped, somehow, that he would look her way.

That evening, Emiya had moved a bit too close to Sakura and had ended up with drinks tossed his way by Rin. Sakura had gone to calm Rin down, to explain. Meanwhile, Hakuno had recommended that Emiya come to her home to clean up.

She had a washer and dryer.

The man above her was a thousand times more handsome than anyone she’d ever seen before though. Since she’d spent all that time being inactive, being the one to wait and see what happened with things, she wanted one time where she didn’t do that.

This time, she’d claim something selfishly.

The man above her moaned against her lips, making her smile.

“We need to talk,” the man told her.

This was not how she was going to have things, not tonight. After all of the chaos that she’d had, she wasn’t going to simply allow all their time to be ruined when it was only starting, not when he had moaned and he had placed his hands on her waist.

The man pulled back.

Hakuno grabbed the hem of her shirt and slipped it over her head, giving the man above her an eyeful.

Breasts.

If there was something that she could really showcase here and now, it was her chest. It was absurd and there was much more to her in actuality, but for the sake of a one night stand like this?

Breasts were her big talk.

Her audacity and determination would be her sales pitch.

She could see the man looking her over. She could feel something hard pressing against her legs, showing more than words what he was thinking about right now.

“I need you,” she told him.

This would be her one vivid, sultry dream. This would be one of those dreams that her classmate Medb murmured about from time to time to her angry looking boyfriend.

Her companion, her mind’s masterpiece of a man, leaned in immediately. His mouth pressed loving to her chest, eyes closing.

“My gods.”

That was how someone needed to react.

Those hands were moving along her person, pulling down her panties as she dove her hands into that hair. She could feel his lips still on her, still paying tribute.

There was a way those hands touched between her, making her give the softest of responses.

“I am selfish, you know.”

Perfect.

He could be selfish as much as he wanted. She was going to enjoy being the center of that attention. She was going to attempt to be selfish too.

Her hand reached between their bodies, helping his hands navigate the great path from her thighs to her center.

They were meeting one another’s gazes the moment she had them touch her together, parting her enough that he could touch around her tender folds and see what else was there. His eyes were widening. Her face was beginning to burn up.

“Be selfish,” she told him simply.

She didn’t want to deal with the pressures of dating and of finding someone to steal her away. She wanted to just carry on with her life. There were other things, more important things. She had a whole future, hanging from the skyline up ahead of her spirit.

The man’s lips were back against her own, his hands taking over enough that she could reach down a little more. She just barely managed to touch him.

“You are new to this,” he murmured to her gently.

“It’s fine-“

A set of teeth bit at her neck, quelling her words. Her body tightened around his fingers, only making her shiver harder at the feel of him inside her.

The sound she made was unlike anything she’d made before, sounding like a whimper.

“I was going to say,” he began again. “You’re new to this. You should think about-“

“I want you.”

The man was pausing again, those eyes gleaming as a light came from a car passing the house. Those red eyes were so mysterious, so strange.

Who would have thought she’d like foreigners like this…

“You’re mine then,” he told her simply.

Her eyes closed as she felt his fingers moving in her. She could feel his lips pressing to hers again, earning all the strength she could muster.

She wanted to do more.

The moment he pushed into her, she ignored the slight pains and wrapped her legs around him, demanding more. She wanted to see this through to the end. She wanted all that she could experience and then some. She’d reach for the stars with him there.

Over and over, he was thrusting into her.

There was a place right there, deep inside her. Every time he hit it, Hakuno could feel herself cry out. She could feel her nails digging into his back and her lips moving to form all kinds of statements: go faster, more, bite me, please, more there, right there.

If he could just continue this, she would be in heaven soon enough.

Her climax came so hard that she was sure that she was feeling it in her real bed.

Her weeping for the man holding her was smothered into nothingness as the man kissed the everliving daylights out of her.

“You’re simply astounding,” the man murmured, pressing his lips to hers once again. His lips moved to her chest, continuing to kiss and make love to her body.

Gods, but there was no other phrase for it.

He made her body sing. He made her blood rush.

Each time that she thought she was going to simply pass out, there he was. He was there to run his hands over another weakened spot on her body. He was there to show her how sensitive she was to him.

“I will bring you home with me,” he purred.

She clung to him, desperate for those lips to kiss and bite at her chest again.

“I will bring you home and I will lay you in my bed,” he promised her. “There is so much more I can do. There is so much more I’m going to do, Hakuno.”

“Please,” she pleaded.

She wanted it all.

All of it and more.

Hakuno stared at the markings on her person in the mirror, frowning at the marks.

Her eyes drifted to the cat nearby, noting that G was watching her from nearby.

Who the hell had she brought home to her house and why the fuck hadn’t she seen him before he’d taken off for god only knew where? Had she gone out again?

She couldn’t remember anything else other than some mind blowing sex, but…

I’m such a dumbass.

“We’ll wear a scarf and long sleeve shirt so no one notices,” she told her feline friend, heading back into her bedroom and resuming her mental chastising.

Sex with a stranger because Emiya didn’t want to date her.

What a pathetic way to respond.

In fact, she was quite happy for Sakura. Emiya was great and Sakura wasn’t the best cook out there. The two of them were cute together and they would make one another happy.

They would.

“Alright,” Hakuno smiled down to G, kissing his head. “I don’t need some useless white haired man. You were right, G. Let’s just keep it you and me here.”

The main man was purring, happily weaving around her feet.

She should think about a way to be able to take him out with her.

That would have been kind of fun, being able to drag him from the house and get him used to people. It would certainly help him become a bit more social. The cat carrier was a thought, but that would mean that he would be behind bars all day.

Maybe like a big sweater or something.

She headed out, locking up the house and heading to her car. The trip to campus was as slow as usual, making her almost lose her temper when someone decided to cut in front of her vehicle and nearly hit her.

A few curses, a stop at the coffee shop, and a quick jog later; Hakuno found herself coming upon her classroom only to find Emiya waiting for her.

“Emiya!”

“Hakuno.”

There was an odd air around Emiya today. The man moved forward, motioning to an empty classroom nearby.

“Hakuno, I-“

Hakuno closed the door and brushed her hair back a little only to see the man staring at her.

“You have…. You’re bruised.”

“Long evening.”

The man didn’t seem pleased with that answer.

“Since we’re talking about things, I just wanted to let you know that I’m really excited about you and Sakura.” At his raised brow, Hakuno shrugged. “The two of you have always been close. It’ll be nice for you both to clear the air between you and show that you care for one another. I look forward to hearing about the dates, either from you or from Sakura. We are friends, after all.”

“Right. Friends….”

They were.

Hakuno glanced at her phone, noting the time and flashing Emiya another smile.

“Good luck with asking her.”

That was where she left it.

Throughout the day, she even felt a little bit more energetic than usual. She’d realized that her crush was simply that, a crush on a man that was more interested in others. Along with that, she’d had some great sex, woken up fully rested, and she was doing well today.

Her tests were finished and turned in amongst the first few people.

She meandered out to lunch, receiving a test from Sakura that talked about how she had been asked out by Emiya and showing her excitement in a picture.

She made a side trip to the pet store and found a backpack that she could carry G around in.

Best of all, there was nothing wrong with the world today. The skies were blue and the weather was fine. Her friends were loving and her home was comfortable.

Yes, there was nothing wrong.

“G!”

Hakuno opened the door, finding her companion sprinting over to her. At the sight of his excitement, Hakuno couldn’t help but dump her things on the floor and pick the cat up instead.

Her lips pressed to his head. Her arms held the cat close, showing a little love here and there to him.

Tonight, she reasoned, they were going to be dining like kings.

There were endless shows that they watched with one another after she got them both something to have for dinner. Her cat was cuddling closer, pawing at her aimlessly whenever she tried to move too much.

“You really like laying on me, don’t you?”

G simply meowed at her, curling up more against her person.

This was fine.

This was entirely fine.

With G at her side, there was little she was concerned about.

I did the right thing.

The only thing wrong was she wished she’d gotten to at least learn the name of the incredibly handsome blond who would now haunt her memories.

Back to the bathroom they went after falling asleep on the couch.

Hakuno watched happily as G hopped onto her counter and simply purred away. He was the biggest fan of the blowdryer. The fact that he seemed to behave so well as a cat only made her laugh.

“Are you being sweet to me because I’m your owner or because you want something?”

G meowed.

She was loved.

Laughing, she carried her hairy cloud of a cat to bed and spoiled him with a few more treats from the kitchens.

If she was going to spoil herself with treats and nice things, then she’d spoil him as well.

“If only you were human,” Hakuno told her beloved cat. “I’d probably just marry you and we’d spoil one another with food.”

Her cat licked her face, making her smile a bit more and hold the cat closer.

“I love you too, G.”

#drabble #drabbles

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contrariian-archive · 5 years

Text

HADESTOWN SENTENCE STARTERS PT. I

taken from the original cast recording, feel free to change pronouns/etc!

part ii || part iii

ROAD TO HELL

‘ don’t ask where. ’ ‘ it was hard times. ’ ‘ it was a world of gods and men. ’ ‘ it’s an old song. ’ ‘ it’s an old tale from way back when. ’ ‘ it’s a sad tale. it’s a tragedy. ’ ‘ it’s a sad song, but we sing it anyway. ’ ‘ it’s a tale of a love that never dies. ’ ‘ it’s a love song about someone who tries. ’

LIVIN’ IT UP ON TOP

‘ i’m an outdoor girl. ’ ‘ i’m trying to enjoy myself. ’ ‘ when the sun is high, so am i. ’ ‘ when my man comes around, i know he’s gonna bring me down. ’ ‘ why would a man of his own free go to work all day in the mine and mill? ’ ‘ you think i give a damn? ’ ‘ why would you trade the sunshine for a couple of nickels and dimes? ’ ‘ no one here’s a millionaire. ’ ‘ we’re living it up. ’ ‘ what we have, we have to share. ’ ‘ give me a lyre, and a campfire, and an open field at night. ’ ‘ give me the sky that you can’t buy or sell at any price, and i’ll give you a song for free. cause that’s how life outta be. ’ ‘ anybody want a drink? ’ ‘ let the poet bless this round! ” ‘ if no one takes to much, there will always be enough. ’ ‘ let the world we dream about be the one we live in now. ’

ALL I’VE EVER KNOWN

‘ i was alone so long. ’ ‘ i was alone so long, i didn’t even know that i was lonely. ’ ‘ this is how it’s always been. ’ ‘ all i’ve ever known is how to hold my own. ’ ‘ all i’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now i wanna hold you too. ’ ‘ you take me in your arms, and suddenly there’s sunlight all around me. ’ ‘ and for a moment i forget just how dark and cold it gets. ’ ‘ i don’t ever wanna have to let you go. ’ ‘ i don’t wanna go back to the lonely life. ’ ‘ say that you’ll hold me forever. say that the wind won’t change us. say that we’ll stay with each other, and it’ll always be like this. ’ ‘ i’m gonna hold you forever. the wind will never change on us. as long as we stay with each other, then it will always be like this. ’

WAY DOWN HADESTOWN

‘ better go and get your suitcase packed. ’ ‘ i guess it’s time to go. ’ ‘ those who go, they don’t come back. ’ ‘ winter’s nigh and summer’s over. ’ ‘ down there, it’s a bunch of stiffs. i’ll be bored to death. ’ ‘ give me morphine in a tin. give me a crate of the fruit of the vine. ’ ‘ everybody dresses in clothes so fine. ’ ‘ the wage is nothing and the work is hard. ’ ‘ an eye for an eye. ’ ‘ a lie for a lie, and your soul for sale. ’ ‘ you’re early. ’ ‘ i missed you. ’ ‘ seems like you own everything. kinda makes me wonder how it feels. ’

EPIC II

‘ king of diamonds, king of spades. ___ was king of a kingdom of dirt. ’ ‘ the river styx was a river of stones. ’ ‘ ____ laid them high and thick with a million hands that were not their own. ’ ‘ and stone by stone, row by row, the river rose up. ’

CHANT

‘ keep your head low. ’ ‘ if you wanna keep your head, you gotta keep your head low. ’ ‘ in the coldest time of year, why is it so hot down here? ’ ‘ it ain’t right, and it ain’t natural. ’ ‘ lover, you were gone so long. ’ ‘ lover, i was lonely. ’ ‘ lover, when you feel that fire, think of it as my desire for you. ’ ‘ i’ll sing a song of a love gone wrong. ’ ‘ every year, they have this fight. ’ ‘ lover, while you sing your song, winter is coming on. ’ ‘ all the pretty songs you sing ain’t gonna shelter us from the wind. ’ ‘ why is it so bright down here? ’ ‘ when you see that glare, think of it as my despair for you. ’ ‘ when the gods are having a fight, everybody else better hold on tight! ’ ‘ everything i’ve saved is gone. ’ ‘ fire ain’t gonna light itself. ’ ‘ every year, it’s getting worse, hell on earth. ’ ‘ did you think i’d be impressed? ’ ‘ i recall there was a time we were happy, you and i: in there garden where we met. nothing was between us yet. ’ ‘ lover, everything i do i do it for the love of you. ’ ‘ if you don’t even want my love, i’ll give it to someone who does. ’ ‘ harbor me. ’

HEY, LITTLE SONGBIRD

‘ hey, little songbird, give me a song. ’ ‘ i’m a busy man, and i can’t stay long. ’ ‘ cat got your tongue? ’ ‘ always a pity for one so pretty and young when poverty comes to clip your wings and knock the wind right out of your lungs. ’ ‘ i want to fly down and feed at your hand. ’ ‘ i want a nice, soft place to land. i want to lie down forever. ’ ‘ the choice is yours, if you’re willing to choose. ’ ‘ you’ve got nothing to lose. ’ ‘ suddenly, nothing is as it was. ’ ‘ wasn’t it gonna be the two of us? weren’t we birds of a feather? ’ ‘ let me guess: he’s some kind of poet and he’s penniless? give him your hand, he’ll give you his hand-to-mouth. he’ll write you a poem when the power is out... hey, why not fly south for the winter? ’ ‘ look all around you: see how the vipers and vultures surround you. ’ ‘ they’ll take you down, they’ll pick you clean if you stick around such a desperate scene. ’ ‘ people get mean when the chips are down. ’

#sentence starters #rp meme #inbox meme #the answer is blowing in the wind || memes.#hadestown sentence starters

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

The Period of the Long Change (5/15)

It’s quick. One second she’s standing there and everything is fine and then Emma looks up and it’s not. It’s awful. And the lights are too bright and there are too many rooms and too many opinions and her phone won’t stop ringing because everything seems to be changing all at once. She’s never been great at coping with change. But, maybe, if she can just figure it out and stay right where she is, with Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, at her side, it’ll be alright.

It’s slow. One second he’s standing there and everything is fine and then Killian’s breath catches and it’s not. It’s terrifying. And the noises are too loud and there are too many questions and he can’t find the right answers to any of them, not sure how to cope with everything changing all at once. That’s never really been his forte. But, maybe, if he can just figure it out and stay right where he is, with Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations, at his side, it’ll be alright.

It’s another season and another challenge and Emma and Killian are both struggling to get over the boards.

Rating: Mature Word Count: More than 8K. I like adjectives. AN: As always, thanks for clicking and reading and being generally lovely. Having one-sided conversations with your baby is basically the same thing as therapy, right? Sure.

Also on Ao3 and FF.net and Tumblr if that’s your jam.

The music, honestly, was probably too loud.

Emma wasn’t entirely sure what the volume was at, but she was almost certain she could feel the beat under her skin and that probably wasn’t good for her eardrums or the actual baby sitting in a carrier on the goddamn floor.

She glanced at Peggy, seemingly oblivious to the volume or the generic tackiness of a Spotify playlist that was actually called totally 80s and Emma nearly tripped over a pile of papers she forgot she’d moved.

On the floor.

There were papers all over her floor.

It was, in theory, easier to organize that way – stacks for ticket sales and food options and non-gluten options because things were absolutely crazy and vaguely insane, but Will Scarlet still had a gluten sensitivity and he’d mentioned it fifty-two times in the last three days.

At least.

And there were piles for merch, some signed and some game used and all of it ready to be displayed and auctioned and they were going to get a video poker machine instead of a new roulette table because it was cheaper and Zelena was, suddenly, worried about budgets.

Emma had sat in four different meetings about the same budget in the last week.

She almost didn’t make it to the restaurant the night before, a pen still stuck in her hair when she barreled through the door and Killian’s whole face had done something entirely unfair because he kind of looked stunned when he saw her, but that might have been because they hadn’t really seen much of each other in the last few days.

He had PT and kept loitering at practice, despite several pointed opinions from both Vankald sisters about that in the group text, and Emma felt like she was constantly half a second away from throwing her phone out the window and screaming at everyone to leave them alone so she could make out with Killian in her office again.

They were really good at making out in her office.

But that would probably be difficult if there were still piles of papers on every flat surface and there were not enough hours in the day for everything Emma had to do.

So, really, the music might have been at an entirely appropriate volume.

Or, at least, an understandable one.

“We’re good, right?” Emma asked, glancing back at Peggy like a thirteen-month-old baby was about to respond to her. “Totally not going crazy.”

Peggy did, in fact, make a noise, some kind of gurgle and a mumble of ma, ma, ma, ma, tiny fists held up like she was challenging the air to drop gloves.

Emma sighed, closing her eyes lightly and her legs didn’t entirely appreciate when she crouched down, but she’d actually put her kid on the ground, so her legs could cope and her mind could cope and Killian kept sitting on the bench while the Rangers were practicing.

That new guy was good.

Not Killian good or Killian fast, but he was good and not on the IR indefinitely or worried about headaches or a Tylenol schedule that Emma actually had memorized at this point.

Nicklas Husinger did not have to walk as slowly as humanly possible on a treadmill while Ariel glared at him for forty-five minutes every day.

Emma needed to do something besides sigh.

Peggy tried to wave, but they hadn’t quite got the hang of it yet, a backwards move that made Emma’s heart grow. “You trying to tell me the music is too loud, babe?” she asked, more questions she knew she wasn’t going to get an answer to, but the song changed and Emma had always had a sort of soft spot for George Harrison and she’d picked Peggy up before she realized her fingers were moving.

“I know, I know,” Emma murmured, bobbing on her feet and trying to avoid a stack of papers that Merida had put in alphabetical order the day before. She had no idea where Merida was. Probably avoiding the music. “It’s not too loud, right? You’d definitely shout if it was too loud and we’re happy and kind of dancing. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

No answer.

A hair tug, and a slight gurgle, but no answer.

“This is a good song too,” Emma continued, weaving across her office and it looked like it was snowing out. She hoped it didn’t snow on Casino Night. They didn’t have a snow contingency plan. Shit they should probably have a snow contingency plan.

She’d make the entire goddamn roster walk to Gotham Hall if the cars couldn’t get there.

And Killian needed to get a tux.

“Oh damn,” Emma muttered, remembering that and wondering if there was a notebook somewhere that wasn’t already filled with half-finished thoughts and schedules. She made a face when Peggy did, eyes flashing down with an expression she hoped was repentant because Killian had read one time about talking to babies before they were born and how that affected their cognizant reasoning once they were born and Emma could only imagine the kind of impact she was leaving on her kids by swearing in their faces.

“Listen, when you know how to actually say words and not just yank on my hair to get my attention, I need you not to mention this entire afternoon to your dad, ok?” Emma asked, and she’d clearly lost her mind. “I’m serious, babe. Not a word. He should have reminded me about his tux.” Peggy squirmed, which Emma assumed was some kind of sign and she knew Killian didn’t forget about his tux and just didn’t want to go to Casino Night and the whole thing was a disaster.

The new guy was really good. He’d scored in the second game of the back to back. They were on a win streak.

Killian was probably watching film while walking as slowly as humanly possible on the treadmill.

“He’s really freaking out, you know,” Emma muttered, ducking her head to kiss Peggy’s forehead and the words weren’t supposed to shake their way out of her, but nothing had really gone according to schedule in the last week and a half and she was so ridiculously tired she was positive she was walking through some kind of constant fog.

“And he’s not really talking about it,” she added. “Which is kind of making me freak out. Are you a little freaked out too, Pegs? Because that’d almost be understandable.” Emma leaned back, not sure what she was waiting for, but the almost-raspberries Peggy blew into the air were pretty far down the list and her laugh sounded as genuine as it had since the almost date.

“That was about as eloquent as me,” Emma grinned. She was still almost dancing, shifting and rocking and twisting her hips and George Harrison had turned into the B52s and this playlist was going to single-handedly fix all of Casino Night, she was positive.

It was, at the very least, doing a pretty great job of calming her nerves.

She kept reading about post-concussion symptoms. In between meetings and budgets and numbers that Merida promised ten different times they’d reach because they didn’t have another choice, and Aurora had called twenty-two times in the last day to double check on the Garden of Dreams banner.

A goddamn banner.

That had gotten water damaged in New Jersey too.

Emma needed to stop reading about concussion symptoms. It was terrifying.

“It’s not that,” she whispered, half to herself and half to Peggy and, maybe wholly to the world, challenging everything and everyone because it was just a misdiagnosis and not CTE and it absolutely, positively was not going to be CTE, and indefinite didn’t mean forever.

At least not in this instance.

Peggy yanked on Emma’s laces.

“Hey,” Emma chastised softly, pulling away fingers and brushing kisses over the back of her daughter’s palm. Her phone was ringing again. It was probably Aurora again. It was definitely Aurora again.

She’d been avoiding Aurora like several different plagues.

Maybe she should have talked to Phillip about Aurora.

That felt like cheating.

“Hey, hey, hey, Pegs, what if we go on another field trip, huh?” Emma asked. She knew Peggy’s eyes didn’t actually get brighter, but it was comforting to think that this conversation wasn’t quite as one-sided as it definitely was. “We can go see A and maybe get Dad to stop staring at film that’s only going to make him mad and then we can totally avoid Aurora again. That seems like a pretty good plan, right? Maybe get some hot chocolate?”

“Are you avoiding Aurora?” Emma jumped several feet in the air, clinging to Peggy and Ruby grinned from the doorway, arms cross and feet crossed and a smile on her face that felt a little predatory.

Peggy started crying.

“Jesus Christ,” Emma hissed, nearly tripping over several stacks of paper and Ruby’s smile only got more pronounced. “Where the hell did you come from?” “Like in general or just now?” “Ruby.” She moved her eyebrows quickly, uncrossing her limbs and crossing the threshold before taking Peggy out of Emma’s arms without asking. “Hey, Pegs,” she cooed, rocking her weight between her feet and it took, exactly, three seconds for the crying to stop completely. “Is your mom interrogating you? She realizes you can’t answer, right? And it’s only a little weird that she’s conversing with you? An actual, human baby?” “It’s good for them to hear voices and be acknowledged,” Emma pointed out. She sank onto the edge of her desk, one of the few places she could do that and Ruby hummed.

It was decidedly placating.

And the phone was ringing again.

“Oh I’ve got no doubt you absolutely believe that,” Ruby said. “Or that it’s actually true.” “Where are you going with this?” “That you are wandering around your office, which incidentally looks like several different disasters, talking to a baby who can’t respond to you because you don’t want to voice your concerns to someone who can actually respond to you.”

Emma blinked. And pressed her lips together – tightly. She was, like, seventy-two percent positive the music got louder. But that might have just been the rushing in her ears and the pounding of her heart and she was not at all emotionally prepared for Ruby to get to the heart of the matter that quickly.

She was really pissed off at the Rangers for still winning.

And at Aurora for being worried about a goddamn, fucking banner. It was Gotham Hall. That banner was going to look ridiculous.

“How was that?” Ruby asked when Emma didn’t respond immediately.

“Absolutely terrible and totally wide of the net.” “Ah, that was actually funny, Em.” “I am occasionally funny,” she muttered, but she couldn’t quite get enough acid in her voice for it to sound like a convincing insult and she was way too tired to try again. Ruby probably knew that too.

“I’m still not disagreeing with you. But this joke felt a bit more like an attempt to prove how fine you are instead of how good your sense of humor is.” “Did you just come in here to lecture me?” “I mean, kind of,” Ruby shrugged, and there was something to be said for honesty. “I wasn’t expecting to find you soliloquy'ing your kid though. Isn’t she supposed to be at daycare? Or anywhere that is not suffering permanent hearing damage?” “You think the music’s too loud?” “I could hear it when I got off the elevator.” “You work two floors above me.” Ruby shrugged again, waving a hand through the air. “And I wasn’t in my office. I was talking to Zelena because…” She trailed off, glancing around the office for something Emma hoped she didn’t find and she didn’t entirely expect the weight of absolute and total dread to land in her stomach quite that suddenly or quite that painfully.

“If this is about Casino Night budgets again I’m going to curse Zelena to several other realms,” Emma warned, drawing a quiet scoff out of Ruby and Peggy fussed in her arms again. “But I’ve got a sneaky suspicion it doesn’t actually have anything to do with Casino Night.” Ruby shook her head.

“Is that why you didn’t go on the road swing?”

“That was mostly because I didn’t feel like being in Arizona or Nevada right now.” “Because you’re trying to make sure I’m not staging several different mental breakdowns in my office?” “You words, not mine,” Ruby pointed out. She took a step forward, pressing the toe of her shoe on Emma’s outstretched foot and her smile had a hint of something that felt a hell of a lot like disappointment to it. The dread in Emma’s stomach moved to her heart. “And you’re pulling Pegs out of daycare so you can have one-sided conversations with her.” “It was just one day,” Emma reasoned, but the argument fell flat and it wasn’t much of an argument and she probably would have taken Matt out of school too if she knew he wouldn’t, somehow, find his way onto the ice. “She’s a good...distraction. Ah, shit that’s a terrible description. Don’t tell Killian I called her that, that’s not what I meant at all.” “I realize that. Although your inability to choose the right words is, like, at least five eighths of the reason I didn’t go on the swing. Plus, they’re going to roll, nothing’s going to happen in two games that the rest of my team couldn’t deal with on their own.” “It sounds very impressive when you call your two assistants your team.”

Ruby flashed her a smile – less emotional and just a little happier and Emma’s entire soul appreciated that, the air around her not feeling nearly as heavy as it had before. “I am incredibly impressive at all times,” Ruby muttered. “And some kind of baby whisperer. Which I think you should remember the next time you let Scarlet and Belle watch your kids before you ask me.” “That was kind of a spur of the moment thing.” “I do not care at all. He’s been bragging about how great they were at it. You know I got pictures of them designing defensive schemes on the PK?” “Matt is four,” Emma argued. “What kind of defensive schemes could he come up with?” “I’d imagine he got a good amount of direction from Scarlet, but it included a lot of blocking shots and they were a little worried about the chance of sticks breaking which, you know, is horrible on the PK. But then, and this is straight from Belle because Scarlet would never admit it, mini-Jones got bored by defense and announced he was only ever going to be on the power play so he could score.”

Emma’s heart sputtered.

Or stopped.

It felt like it stopped.

It hurt like it stopped.

She was glad Ruby was holding Peggy.

Emma dug her nails into her desk, a move that wasn’t going to do her any favors in the long run, but in the moment at least made sure she felt like she was still tethered to the Earth. She squeezed her eyes closed, willing her lungs to continue functioning and Spotify was playing some kind of 80s rock ballad.

She didn’t appreciate that.

Spotify could go fuck itself, honestly.

“Do you know how terrifying CTE stuff is?” Emma asked, wincing when the question came out like a shout and the fear in her voice seemed to reach out and slap her. “And I didn’t...I didn’t even really think about it until now. I mean even after knowing everything about Liam and what happened then. I just…” She sighed, twisting her ring in between her fingers and her laces fell halfway down her arm. She’d forgotten to eat again. She really needed to remember where Merida was.

“It’s really bad,” Emma finished lamely. “All the stuff that could happen or go wrong.” “It didn’t with Liam,” Ruby pointed out.

“It could have.” “Have you been looking up CTE symptoms?” “If I say no are you going to tell me I’m an enormous liar?” “No, but only because the question was really more rhetorical than anything else. Your crazy eyes were a pretty good answer. Plus the aforementioned soliloquy.” “It wasn’t a soliloquy,” Emma grumbled, but that was a lie too and she knew her eyes looked insane. “It was just a vocal listing of plans.” “Does Cap know you’re looking up symptoms to a disease he doesn’t actually have?” “If you tell him that I’m looking things up, I will push you in traffic, I swear.”

Ruby’s eyebrows jumped immediately, lips quirking and Emma wished her face wasn’t quite as expressive. It was way too judgmental. She let out a low whistle, tracing her tongue over the front of her teeth and her eyebrows didn’t move when she turned towards Peggy.

“I think you’re mom’s kind of lost her mind,” Ruby muttered, gaze flitting back towards Emma when she spoke again. “There’s a reason Scarlet didn’t mention any of this to Cap. Because his eyes would do the same thing yours are doing, but he’d probably get a stick from somewhere and check several people with it until they yielded.” Emma’s laugh was shaky and nervous, but Ruby was right and it wasn’t CTE. It would be fine. Ruby also wasn’t done.

“Nothing is going to happen to him, you know that right?” she asked. “There was a diagnosis and a name and Ariel said as long as he followed the schedule he’d be able to get back by playoffs.” “That’s if we make playoffs.” “You’re just looking for excuses now.”

Emma didn’t argue, couldn't and didn’t want to and in the great, big list of everything that could have gone wrong in a life that was otherwise pretty fucking fantastic brain trauma wasn’t even close to making the list.

She hadn’t even considered it.

She’d thought about broken bones and ACL injuries and trades. She’d considered the possibility of blood clots and getting a skate to the back of the calf before she thought about concussions and the helmets were supposed to be better.

The hits weren’t supposed to be that hard.

There were rules.

That kid shouldn’t have lowered his shoulder.

“God, Mary Margaret really underestimated just how badly you’re dealing with this, huh?” Ruby murmured, and Emma almost didn’t realize she was talking to her.

She didn’t entirely appreciate it when she did.

“Are you gossiping about this?” Emma hissed, and Ruby actually had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Is that honestly what’s happening? Is the whole team doing it?” “Em, give us a little credit. We are not gossiping. We are worried. Exponentially. And Mary Margaret can’t keep a secret to save her life. You know this.”

She did.

And she knew it would, probably, be fine as long as they followed the schedule and actually made the playoffs and no one did anything even more stupid, but her mind was running on some kind of previously unknown level, pointing out everything that could go wrong and had already gone wrong and they’d been winning.

And she still couldn’t quite figure out why Killian didn’t tell her.

Or how she didn’t notice.

“Cap wasn’t keeping secrets because he’s an ass,” Ruby continued. She dropped next to Emma, bumping shoulders and they should have changed the playlist if they were going to have this conversation. The whole thing felt a little absurd. “You know that too, right?”

Emma nodded. “In theory.” “And in practice?” “I keep researching CTE symptoms and signs and what to look for when handling a loved one dealing with multiple concussions.” “That sounded a little clinical.” “It’s easier to deal with if I get a little clinical, honestly,” Emma mumbled. “Like I’m dealing with it from an outside perspective or observing or something.” “Yeah, how’s that working out for you?” “Like shit.” Ruby scoffed, resting her head on Emma’s shoulder and at some point they’d both started holding Peggy at the same time, fingers dancing over Rangers-branded merch and neither one of the Jones kids ever wore anything except blue.

“That endorsement deal fell through,” Emma whispered, not sure if she was supposed to broadcast the news, but Regina had told Killian before the team left the night before and maybe half her current research was being solely fueled by the look on his face. Like the entire world was ending.

He’d barely said two words for the rest of the night.

“I figured that would happen,” Ruby said. “That doesn’t mean Gina won’t get something better next season. She’ll probably get double the money from like...Nike or whatever on the force of her anger and the power of her glare alone.” “I don’t think Nike’s affiliated with the NHL. NFL, maybe. NBA definitely. Maybe, like, track and field because they’re in Oregon, right?” “I think that’s Under Armour.” “Nah, that’s Baltimore.” “Why do you know that?”

Emma shrugged, but she’d researched that too and Killian Jones was already the face of the NHL, but an endorsement deal and an equipment deal would have been big and several adjectives worth several zeroes and it would have been more than hockey.

She almost understood why he didn’t tell her about the headaches.

“It’s not CTE,” Ruby repeated, like that would get Emma’s mind to stop thinking or worrying or plotting for the metaphorical end of the world. “And this isn’t the NFL, Em. We’re usually way better at preventing this kind of stuff.” “I know that.” “Do you? Your music and baby theft suggests otherwise.” “She’s my baby,” Emma argued, groaning when Ruby laughed under her breath. “God, that sounded more defensive than calling her a distraction. Just...don’t tell Killian about any part of this conversation, ok?” “I’ve got no plans to do that at all, because I am not Mary Margaret, but I do think you should probably tell Cap about every single part of this conversation yourself. Tonight. You should have already, but you’re trying to save the Casino Night budget. And you’re you, plus Cap is him and he’s lurking on the bench.” “How do you know that?” Ruby stared at her incredulously, another judgmental look and there was not enough oxygen in any of the known universes for the amount of sighing Emma kept doing. “That’s insulting,” Ruby said. “And I knew about Locksley and Scarlet’s plan to intervention him.” “Can you use that as a verb?” “I just did, so…” “So let it be written,” Emma intoned, the sarcasm almost audibly dripping off her words. “I don’t think he wants to go to Casino Night.” “Do you?” “Not really. This budget is ridiculous and I’m considering several threats to the entire state of New Jersey at this point.” Ruby chuckled, making a face at Peggy, but her expression turned serious when she looked at Emma. “Zelena wants to do a promo on the new guy,” she said bluntly, and Emma had to swallow before she could completely process those words in that order.

“What?” “That’s why I wasn’t in my office. She...well, he’s been playing well and I guess there’s been some interest and one of my assistants said The Post wants to do a feature and--” “--He’s an AHL replacement,” Emma yelled, a noise Peggy did not appreciate and Ruby gaped at her when her voice cracked. She was standing up. She didn’t remember deciding to do that. “He’s not going to stick around that long.” “At least until the playoffs, Em,” Ruby said.

“He’s not going to be on the team that long.” “Emma…” “No, no, c’mon,” Emma argued, not sure if it was an argument or just her desperation, finally, boiling over, but Ruby looked a little wary of her when she started pacing a small circle on the few inches of open floor. “Who even is this guy? He’s not anyone. He’s not even that fast.” “I don’t think being fast is a prerequisite for being a good NHL player. It’s just plus.” “Well, he’s got a negative, then!” “I know you’re pissed, so I’m going to overlook that sentence.”

Emma cursed under her breath, tugging her hair over her shoulder and huffing out air she probably could have used to maintain her higher brain functions. “Does Killian know about any of this?” Ruby shook her head. “No, I came here first, because uh…” She wished she hadn’t stood up.

She wished the Earth would stop throwing metaphorical curveballs directly at her face.

She wished she could stop coming up with sports-based clichés.

“I’m not doing that,” Emma whispered, and she knew Ruby heard every word perfectly. “I’m not. Zelena can come down here and tell me if she wants to and I’ll tell her the same exact thing. I’m not hyping up some guy who shouldn’t even be on the team.” “He should be on the team, Em.” “No, he shouldn’t!”

The words sounded insane. She sounded insane. And her breathing was ragged, shoulders heaving and tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she was going to rip her laces in half if she didn’t stop yanking on them.

“He shouldn’t,” Emma repeated softly. Ruby moved a pile of papers before she walked towards her, resting a hand on her shoulder and trying to brush away tears and the team kept winning. She hoped that wasn’t a sign.

That was a shit sign.

“It’s not going to stay that way,” Ruby said, a promise she absolutely could not keep because the internet kept saying these things were temperamental and it was a waiting game and there wasn’t much to do except hope it got better.

“Right,” Emma mumbled. “Right, right. It’s...going to be fine. It is fine. Currently.” “Man, that was really bad.” She let out a watery laugh, squeezing her eyes closed when her hair found its way back into the grip of a questionably strong thirteen-month-old. “Super bad,” Emma agreed. “So, uh...if Mary Margaret told you about everything, I’m guessing she told you about…”

“Tink offering you a job? Emma nodded. “Oh, yeah, she opened with that because she knows not to bury her lede. I also heard from Tink, but that’s a whole other story.” “How do you know her?” “Well, first of all, I know everyone, so jot that down. And secondly, Regina knew her from the get. They went to college together or something. She tried to set her up with Cap once.” Emma’s mouth dropped, something that almost felt like wholly irrational jealous flashing through every inch of her, and she really needed Ruby to consider her conversational reactions before she did them. Laughing was not helping her state of mind.

“Relax, green-eyed monster,” Ruby muttered. “You’re the only one the set-up ever worked for. So retract those incredibly possessive claws.” “I don’t have claws.” “You had, like, slightly pointed nails. What did you say to Tink? And what did she say to you?

“Not much, really,” Emma said. “She told me she knew who I was and what a good job I’d been doing in New York and that she was offering me a job.” “And?” “And what?” “What did you tell her? That was almost a week ago.”

Emma shrugged. “I told her I’d think about it.” “Have you?” “Absolutely not.”

Ruby’s laugh wasn’t unexpected, but it was still a little jarring and almost as loud as the 80s music that was still, inexplicably, playing. “Of course not,” Ruby mumbled, a note of familiarity in her voice that was, almost, endearing. Her eyes darted to Emma’s desk when her phone made another noise, and neither of them were psychic, but they were both pretty good at making educated guess and it was only a matter of time.

And the world appeared to have a very twisted sense of humor.

“Stop reading the internet,” Ruby commanded. “And answer your phone.”

Emma took a deep breath, and she’d run out of places to run – metaphorical or otherwise – because there was stuff all over the floor and Ruby wouldn’t let go of Peggy and she knew all the words to the song playing from her computer speakers.

That felt like a sign too.

“Hello?”

“Emma,” Tink said brightly “I feel like we’re playing phone tag.” “Yeah, yeah, it’s uh...it’s been a bit of a crazy week since the break and we’re getting ready for our Casino Night and--” “--Oh, no I understand completely. I’m just happy I was able to catch you when you weren’t busy. I’ve spoken to your assistant several times.” “What?” Tink made a noise from wherever the hell she was, a hum and audible confusion, and Emma’s head snapped to Ruby, met with a shrug because she wasn’t Elsa Vankald-Jones and didn’t have supersonic hearing.

“I’ve spoken to your assistant several times,” Tink said slowly. “She said you were in meetings for most of the week or out of the office.”

Emma was going to have to buy Merida a new apartment. Or something. A car. A car was impractical in Manhattan. Maybe she’d just give her her job.

She was better at it anyway.

“Right,” Emma said, the word sounding strained and force and Ruby shook her head like there’d been a question at all. “Well, I’ve got a few minutes if you’re good.” “Emma, I called you.” “Right.” “I wanted to give you a bit more information on what exactly it is I’m offering you,” Tink started. “It is, frankly, an incredible opportunity.” “I’m all ears,” Emma mumbled, dropping back onto her desk. Ruby snickered.

It sounded like Tink smiled. “Perfect. Well, as I said, the league has taken notice of the work you’ve done in New York and, particularly, the work you’ve done with children and the Rangers. I think you’ve single-handedly sparked an entire new generation of Blueshirts fans.” She paused, like she was expecting Emma to laugh or agree and Ruby scowled when Emma didn’t do either.

“Anyway,” Tink continued. “The board of governors wants to continue to do just that. We want to expand the game to the youth and help grow interest across the country, maybe even the world. There’s been some talk of playing a few games in Europe and possibly a Winter Classic in Finland in 2030 and--”

“--And what does that have to do with me?” Emma interrupted. Ruby’s face was going to get stuck like that.

“Everything, in fact.” “These conversations always seem to end with me telling you I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I can’t imagine that’s a good first impression.” “Oh, we’re on a much later impression than that,” Tink promised. “Double digits, at least. That’s why I’ve been so understanding about your schedule, particularly with your husband’s injury. That kid they brought up from the ‘Pack scored a nice goal a few days ago, though.” Emma grit her teeth. “Yes, he did. What exactly does this job mean, Tink?” “You’d still be based in New York, I can guarantee that upfront. I know you’ve got young children to consider and I noticed your son was on the ice during the Skills competition.”

Emma took another deep breath, large enough that she was sure her lungs were going to jump out of her body and object loudly to the move. Ruby didn’t appear to be breathing. The computer was playing We Built This City. They’d never turned the volume down.

“Although there would be a considerable amount of travel involved,” Tink continued, and maybe they should get Elsa to schedule everyone’s conversations because she appeared to be the only person who could go from one point to the other coherently.

“Travel,” Emma echoed. Tink hummed from, maybe, Toronto.

“Oh yeah, of course. How else do you think you’re going to help run the events?” “You haven’t been exactly forthcoming with that part.” Tink laughed lightly, a chair squeaking in the background and Emma made a mental note to ask Regina this woman’s entire life history. She’d make Roland stand next to her when she did. Then Regina wouldn't be able to argue.

“The idea is to get kids on the ice,” Tink explained. “To increase youth participation in places where it hasn’t been all that impressive in the last few years. That means skating clinics, meet and greets with players and coaches and alums, instructional events and, I’m afraid, anti-concussion measures.”

“I’m not pro concussion,” Emma muttered, the words finding their way out of her without any sort of filter. Ruby had to press her face into Peggy’s stomach to muffle her laugh.

Tink clicked her tongue. “I’m not suggesting you are, just that it might be a touchy subject currently. But, as I’ve said, league-wide community relations has been a growing part of the brand over the last two decades. We’ve helped renovate arenas and get facilities into towns, now we want to make sure kids are interested and taught well from the moment they lace up.” “And you think I’m the best person for that job?” Emma asked skeptically.

“I wouldn’t be stalking you via phone if I didn’t.”

“That’s fair.”

“You’d get your own office, a team of professionals who’d be more than willing to do your bidding. I’m sure you can even take that assistant who’s very good at lying with you, if you wanted to. The pay would be...competitive, let’s say. And it’d be secure. This the direction the NHL wants to take with its fanbase. That’s not going to change any time soon.

I realize you’re busy, Emma,” Tink continued, a sudden business-like approach that didn’t quite match up with her voice. Emma sat up straighter. “But I think you’re the perfect fit for this. I think you can affect the game. I think you can do something incredibly positive with this opportunity and I’m going to need an answer by the end of the month.”

The phone went dead before Emma could even open her mouth, let alone with respond, and she exhaled so loudly her whole body heaved forward.

“So, uh, we going to dance party some more or, like, what’s the plan here?” Ruby asked, Emma’s laugh loud and slightly unstable.

She nodded. “Yeah, that’s totally the plan here.”

Emma managed to successfully avoid both Aurora and Zelena for the rest of the day, tugging Merida into her office when Ruby announced they had to switch to 70s music before I go insane and there was more dancing and a distinct lack of professionalism, but she did at least eat lunch, so she figured it all balanced out in the end.

And there was a game that night.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, twisting awkwardly in the back of the car to try and grab it and Killian had picked Matt up again. Emma had to change into merch in her office.

Did you know that Arizona is the country’s leading copper producer and that the Arizona capital is covered in the equivalent to 4,800,000 pennies?

Emma laughed out of instinct and years of doing just that and feeling even more and those were decidedly sentimental thoughts, but her shirt was almost identical to Peggy’s so comparatively it really felt normal.

I did not know that. Why did you know that?

If I tell you that I had to look it up is that cheating?

Nah.

Then I totally knew it off the top of my head.

She was only a little worried her smile was going to get stuck on her face, but there wasn’t as much traffic and a pair of Jones jerseys waiting for them outside the restaurant.

“Mom,” Matt cried as soon as Emma opened the door, dodging Killian’s arms and nearly taking her out at the knees. “Mom! Mom! Did you know that ice cream was invented in St. Louis?” “What?” Killian groaned, hands stuffed in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels and Emma furrowed her brows in confusion. “That’s not what the fact was,” he mumbled. “The ice cream cone was invented in New York, the guy got a patent and everything, but it was popularized at the St. Louis World’s Fair where the guy twisted a waffle into a cone-type shape.” “Naturally.”

“There was an educational part to the whole thing.” “Yuh huh,” Emma muttered, but her smile still felt stuck on her face and Matt was wearing his All-Star jersey. Killian shrugged when she looked at him. “What kind of ice cream did you get, Mattie? Were there sprinkles involved?”

“Chocolate and chocolate,” Matt yelled, and Killian shook his head.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Emma grinned, swiping her thumb over a missed spot of evidence at the corner of his mouth. “You still want dinner though? Because A and Eric may be upset if you don’t eat their food.” “Onion rings?”

“It’s an away game, kid. There’s always onion rings.”

He nodded enthusiastically, turning on his heels and running into the restaurant with their usual order on his tongue and Emma was fairly certain that was unnecessary. She also wasn’t sure if Killian could move.

“You ok?” she asked, a loaded question that seemed to be playing on loop out of her for the last week and a half. He nodded, but it looked stiff and unnatural and he had to twist his arms when Peggy reached for him. “We didn’t have to come, you know.” “Red would have killed me.” “You show for PT or just play hookie with ice cream?” “The ice cream happened after I walked the world’s slowest recorded mile.” “Somehow I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. And this whole stupid team can do several words I won’t say out loud in case they wreck Peggy’s mental state. Honestly. This has nothing to do with them. I can yell if you want.” “You don’t have to yell, Swan,” Killian murmured. “Are you worried about Peggy’s mental state?”

“I mean, a little,” Emma admitted. “But mostly yours.” “I’m fine.” “So I’ve heard.” “Still true,” he said.

“Did he pick that jersey on his own?” Killian’s lips twitched, tongue darting between them and that was as much an answer as any of the words he could actually say. “Immediately,” he said. “I guess it’s got to get some use.”

“Was the ice cream before or after the costume change?”

“Before,” Killian laughed. “We ate the ice cream on the way home from school. I figured there was more time in between that and the onion rings then.”

“Super dad.”

He shifted Peggy between them, bending to brush his lips over hers and it wasn’t enough, but they were on a sidewalk and she could hear Ruby shouting and Mary Margaret trying to quiet her and she kind of wanted onion rings. “C’mon, love,” he said. “I’m sure there’s protocol I’ve got to follow for away games.”

There was, in fact, protocol, but Emma assumed it helped when you wore a shirt only actual team members got because your sister was also dating the equipment manager and it was all going pretty well.

There hadn’t been any fights, no terrifying hits, not even a penalty kill.

Matt kept shouting about offsides, but Emma wasn��t entirely convinced he was entirely sure what offsides was, and Killian kept an arm wrapped around his waist when he climbed onto the table that was always theirs. “You realize you’re mumbling instructions under your breath, right?” Emma asked, glancing at Killian out of the corner of her eye. The third period had just started, Arizona winning the faceoff and neither Roland nor Matt were very impressed by that.

“What?” Killian muttered. He didn’t take his eyes away from the TV.

“Instructions. Pass right and cross ‘em, which I didn’t entirely understand, and there was a few times in the second when they were all up against the boards and you just kept chanting ht him over and over again.”

Killian laughed, switching grips on Matt so he could lace his hand through Emma’s. Her heart fluttered. Or something less ridiculous with two kids and goddamn brain trauma and he smirked when he looked at her.

“He should have hit him that’s why,” Killian explained. “No one’s going to call that. Not in a scrum in in the first week of February. And certainly not in a non-divisional game.” “Seems like a lot of prerequisites.” He shrugged. “I almost know what I’m talking about.”

“Almost. Seriously what did cross ‘em mean? I can’t figure it out.” “You could have asked.” “What do you think I’m doing right now?”

Killian did something wholly unfair with every inch of his face, eyes practically flashing in the dim light of the bar and the hockey game on the TV and Emma wasn’t sure who groaned louder Ruby or David or Ariel.

Mary Margaret looked a little teary-eyed.

Leo had fallen asleep before the first period ended.

“If you guys are going to flirt this obviously, I need you to do it, like, twenty feet away from me,” David said. “At least.”

“Is this flirting, Swan?” Killian asked, and she knew she didn’t imagine how he leaned towards her. His arm didn’t move away from Matt. Absurd upper body strength.

Emma shrugged. “Kind of feels that way, doesn’t it?”

“It could certainly be argued that way.”

“I’m going to arrest both of you,” David warned.

“I don’t think you’ve got that kind of power, Detective,” Emma said. “What exactly is the crime?”

“Grossness.”

Ariel snorted into her drink, Ruby nearly choking on a half-cold onion ring, and Emma wished her glares had magical powers like Regina. It’d probably make her more intimidating.

“Shut up, David,” Ariel muttered. “This is almost cute. I mean it’s super gross because your kid is right there and we’re right here, but it’s also kind of endearing in a romance type way.” “Stop talking, Red,” Killian said. “Swan, you want to keep flirting with me and break all of the rules of this ridiculous tradition?”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day,” Emma muttered, and it was a very strange, slightly dangerous balancing act while one of them was trying to keep a four-year-old from falling off the table, but she swore she felt actual electricity when Killian’s mouth found hers.

She was probably so sentimental because she hadn’t really been sleeping.

Maybe they needed some help.

And someone did, eventually, have to score.

They goal sound went off, ricocheting off the walls of the restaurant and, what felt like, the inside of Emma’s head, and she hated the AHL kid.

Her eyes flashed to Killian, jaw set and shoulders straight and she could feel the tension rolling off him as clearly as if it were being broadcast as well, a muscle in his temple jumping as soon as the first line crashed against Husinger in the corner of the ice. “Em,” David mumbled at the same time Ariel whispered “Cap,” and she shook her head hard enough it hurt her spine.

Her hand was still wrapped up in Killian’s.

“You want to get some air?”

“Yeah,” Killian said, standing up and fixing Matt’s jersey. “Here, c’mon, get off the table, Mattie. You uh…” “We’ve got it, Cap,” Ruby promised. “C’mere, mini-Jones. Let’s talk strategy.”

He didn’t let go of her hand when they walked back onto the block, or possibly the other way around, leaning against the side of the restaurant because there was snow on the curb.

“I’m sorry about--”

“--No, no, don’t apologize,” Emma cut in, and seriously she needed to ask Elsa for conversational tips. Maybe she needed to ask several people for help. Killian blinked in surprise, a fair reaction to the absolute vitriol in her voice and Emma wasn’t mad at him.

She was mad at...the world.

That sounded ridiculous. There wasn’t really anything to be mad about. Killian was fine and would be fine and this team would probably make the playoffs, but Emma’s brain would not shut up and even an absurd dance party in her office wasn’t enough to distract her for more than a few hours when that AHL asshole scored another goal.

“Red was upset she didn’t get an invite to your club this afternoon,” Killian said, mouth tugging up when Emma spun towards him. “Although I was a little confused by the specifics of it.” “It was kind of impromptu. How did she find out?” “How does anyone find out anything on this team? An absurd string of talking and gossip and interfering in each other’s lives.”

Emma laughed, humming in the back of her throat and Killian tugged her hand up when she tried to rest them both on his chest, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “When I was in school, I usually went to Reese’s house on breaks,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice light. “But one time, Christmas break of senior year, David invited both of us to his mom’s house. Ruth had way more rum for pies than Mr. Blanchard did. And she also had a questionably large record collection. Old 45s and singles an almost impressive amount of Beatles albums, like every one and then some collectors editions, and it was just...enormous.

And one day, Ruth went shopping and left us in her house with her alcohol and her music and we got incredibly tipsy on rum and found her collection of 80s hair bands. Ruth loved White Snake, you know.”

Killian’s laugh was more a guffaw, hot air moving over Emma’s skin because he’d never actually pulled his lips away from her wrist. She hoped he couldn’t feel how quickly it kept beating.

“I can’t quite imagine that,” he admitted.

“Swear to God, it’s totally true. So we started listening to White Snake and Duran Duran and Reese’s put on a pretty fantastic show of singing Living on a Prayer and Ruth totally caught us, but then she started singing too and it might have been the best Christmas I’d ever had until--”

“--Until,” Killian interrupted sharply, and Emma knew her cheeks were flushed. She’d blame the cold. It didn’t have anything to do with the cold.

“Until we stole a Christmas tree,” she said. “And every subsequent iteration after that just keeps getting better, don’t you think?” Killian nodded. “But, uh...the 80s thing kind of stuck with me and Reese’s and it’s a comfort thing or something less lame sounding.” “That doesn’t sound lame.” “That’s generous of you.” “I promise, Swan,” Killian said, and there was no way to doubt it or him or them and she needed to stop looking up CTE symptoms. She wished Husinger hadn’t scored. “I didn’t know that though.”

“I’m full of surprises, I guess.” He hummed, moving to the side of her jaw and the curve of her cheek and Emma bit her lip so David wouldn’t actually arrest them for public indecency. “I need to tell you something,” she muttered. He didn’t stop kissing her. “Killian, I’m serious.”

He leaned back, face even and Emma felt like she was standing at center ice in the middle of overtime and there was probably another gold medal on the line.

That was probably easier than this.

“I, um…” Emma started, tilting her head and hitting herself in the face with her hair. “I don’t think it’s going to actually matter, but you’re right about this team and I didn’t want you to hear from someone else before me and…”

“What, Swan?” “The league offered me a job.” Killian blinked, opening his mouth only to close it again and she didn’t expect him to kiss her.

His arm wrapped around her waist tightly, pulling her flush against his chest and that tongue thing was ridiculous because she couldn’t think when he did that, and Emma was sure he’d planned it that way.

She felt like she was breathing him in, fingers moving on their own and into his hair and she gasped when his hips canted up, rocking against her and the brick wall behind him in equal measure. Emma had to press up on her toes to reach him, a fact Killian didn’t seem particularly inclined to complain about any time soon.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emma mumbled, earning a groan for talking that might have been because her left hand had found its way under his shirt. “That’s...this was unexpected.” “That’s incredible, Swan.” “What?”

“A job with the league?” Killian asked, leaning back again with a disbelieving look on his face. “That’s incredible. And exactly what you deserve to be doing, love.” “But I don’t…” “You don’t what?” “I just don’t have time to think about that right now.” He blinked again. She didn’t want him to do that. She was stupid attracted to the color of his eyes. “What does that mean?” “I’ve just got a million other things to do,” Emma explained, and she was ready for his eyebrows that time. They twisted and turned and arched and she had to breathe through her nose to stop herself from sighing too loudly. “And I bet they’ve got plenty of other people who could do it better than I could.” “They asked you though.” “I don’t really want to focus on it now. Let me get through Casino Night and that stupid thing we’ve got to do because Phillip hit some point marker first.” “When is that?” “Hopefully before Casino Night,” Emma quipped, and she felt Killian’s laugh before she heard it, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “I just didn’t want you to hear about it from Rubes or Reese’s before I told you.” “Do they know about it?”

Emma nodded. “They were both there when I got the phone calls.” “Plural?” Killian asked, voice catching on the word and eyes widening slightly and that was worse than the blinking.

“Tink was very determined, I guess.” It could not have been good for his face to be experiencing so many emotional changes at once. “Yeah, yeah,” Emma muttered, tugging on his t-shirt and one of them should have grabbed a coat. “Ruby told me about that. I mean you wanted to have two painfully adorable kids with me, so I’m not really threatened by the league lady with the slightly ridiculous laugh.” “We could keep making out on the sidewalk if that’d help.” “Nah, I bet David would actually arrest us. Hey, you think we can get him to arrest this AHL jerk? I bet I could get him to do it.” “He’s doing his job, Swan,” Killian said. “He’s supposed to score goals, I don’t think that makes him a jerk by default.” Emma nodded, lower lip jutted out slightly. There were goosebumps on her arms. “That was good,” she mused. “Super convincing, appropriate PR response.” “I’ve been practicing.” “Yeah, I figured. I was almost totally serious about the arrest.”

“I know you were, love, and as much as I appreciate that particular abuse of power, I think we’re good. And you should send the season tickets the e-mail thing about him. It’s ok.”

She almost stumbled over her own feet, jerking back and only staying upright when Killian’s hand tightened around the back of her shirt. “How?” Emma demanded.

“Zelena found me. Told me she knew you’d put up a fight and maybe I could help.” “Jeez.”

“It’s not your fault, Swan,” Killian said, and she knew they weren’t just talking about Husinger. “None of it. You’ve got to do your job. And that was a good goal.” “It was a shit goal and he’s a shit winger and I hate him.” Killian chuckled, kissing her quick and Emma chased after him, but they needed to get back into the restaurant and she heard the door swing open around the corner. “That’s the spirit,” Killian mumbled.

“Hey, uh, guys,” David called. “There’s some kind of argument happening here about proper faceoff technique and I think Matt’s going to challenge Rol to drop gloves.” “Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Killian said. The door sounded very loud when it closed. “It’s alright, Swan,” he continued. “Admittedly not great, but…” He shrugged, mouth twisted and Emma’s heart lurched, some kind of deep-rooted need to make sure he knew how good he was and better than that and he deserved a better schedule than the one they’d come up with.

“Super dad,” she whispered instead, and Killian kissed her before they went back into the restaurant.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #blue line change #i seem to have a habit of making casino night very dramatic always #someday i'll just let them have fun at casino night

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lemonjoonah · 6 years

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Under Fire - Pt 5

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Title: Under Fire Word Count: 4K+ Rating: M Genre: Gang AU, Drama Warnings: Violence Pairings: Hyung Line x Reader (Primarily Namjoon x Reader), very slight OT7 x Reader. Pairings (in this chapter): V x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, JK x Reader (small part, I promise he’ll get more time soon)

Summary: As a child you lived among the most wealthy and powerful, after the death of your mother you were shipped off to stay with her sister. Even after finishing your education you continue to live apart from the elite, but a visit home creates an unexpected disaster. You are suddenly roped into a darker world, and who better to be your guide than the infamous gang known as BTS.

A/N: Going forward you are going to see other k-pop groups popping up more and more. It makes it so much more readable to include other groups than OCs. For a GangAU you need a lot of additional characters. I know that I am not portraying them perfectly, but well... someone has to play the villain...

Chapter 5 - The Art of Evasion

POV (Y/N)

The next morning you wake encircled by Namjoon. His arms are cradling your head to his chest. His cheek rests on the top of your head. You both are still lying on the lawn chair in the cold morning air, sun peeking out behind the skyline.

The brightness however, isn’t what wakes you. That action lies with Suga, a pot, and a wooden spoon.

“What the hell Suga?” Yells Namjoon.

“Just trying to scare the pigeons away from you.” He says in his lethargic tone.

Namjoon looks to the sky, it’s empty.

“Pigeons... Really Suga? If you were jealous just say so.”

You instantly flare with a blush.

“Even if I was jealous, at least I am not taking advantage of her while she is in a vulnerable state. That would just be inconsiderate.”

Namjoons arms suddenly fling up over his head as if in surrender.

Suga cracks a smirk and leaves.

“Wow, that got to you didn’t it?” You ask. “Suga was just pushing your buttons. I am an adult, I can make my own decisions.”

He checks his watch, “We should head to the kitchen, the others will be waking up and we need to discuss plans for the day.”

On your first attempt to get up you want to vomit. You clutch your head and groan.

“Hangover?” You make a pointing gesture with your finger at him in confirmation. Fearful of opening your mouth. He laughs, “You have my permission to blame it on Suga.”

“Thanks but I just built that bridge, I don’t think I want to risk burning it.”

Suga was in front of the stove when you enter, the other members starting to pour in too.

“Why is Suga up so early?” V yawns.

“He’s on breakfast duty this week for almost poisoning (Y/N), while simultaneously giving Jin a heart attack.” There is a clatter of pans as Suga continues his work, while ignoring Namjoon. You go over to help Suga feeling equally responsible, but he wordlessly points you to a seat.

Suga places dishes in front of each of you consisting of eggs and toast. You look over at Namjoon’s plate to see that the toast is far darker than your own, and there seems to be a crunch to his eggs as he bites into them. Namjoon finishes off his plate but glares at Suga the entire time, Suga just smirks back at him.

“Any suspicious behaviour from VIXX?” Namjoon asks Hope.

“No, I think that they were just heading there for a drink, it didn’t seem like they knew that Suga and (Y/N) were going to be there.”

“Good, we will have to call the Rail Bar off limits for now though, just in case. (Y/N), V is going to take you to the bank today to meet with the lawyer and manager who handles your Father’s accounts. Jimin and JHope will be stationed nearby. JK will be monitoring.” You smile at JK warmly, feeling bad for not having a chance to speak with him yet.

“The new clothes are on your bed,” J-Hope informs you with his mouth full.

“I’ll be down here when you’re ready.” States V.

You step out of the Kitchen and Jin follows, “How’s your shoulder?” He asks he accompanies you upstairs. “I would like to take a look at it, probably change the bandage too. Meet me in my office after you shower.”

Hair still damp you wrap yourself in a towel and head to the small infirmary that is Jin’s office. You did not expect to collide with a tall dark haired statue outside your door. JK grabs your waist to steady you, but once he realizes what you’re wearing quickly lets go. A blush creeps onto his face he looked down at the floor and stutters.

“Sorry, I wanted to talk to you before you left. I didn’t mean to catch you like this.”

“It’s fine, Jin just asked to change my bandage before we head out. I’ve wanted to say thank you for your help the other day, without you I wouldn’t have made it out.”

“It was nothing,” he says shyly. “RM says that you are pretty tech savvy yourself, I was hoping once you were finished with the bank that you could assist me with creating a line to your set up in Busan. I figured it would be less intrusive to use your door to access the police database then create my own.

“Ah, he told you about that did he? Of course, and I would love to see your setup here.” You start to twist your hair into a knot. “I’m self taught and new to the skill so I would love any advice or help you can give.”

“Hacking the BPD is impressive, there’s no way you are a noob.”

“It’s just a piggy back.”

JK seems much more relaxed discussing a topic that he knows well. But it doesn’t last long when he accidentally glances back down. “I’ll come find you once I’m back.” You say essentially offering him a chance to bail. He takes it nodding his eyes wide as he hurries around the corner.

You spot Jin leaning against the the doorway of the infirmary. “Is he always so shy?”

“Just with new people, soon you won’t be able to shut him up.” He looks down at your towel, “Your state of dress probably didn’t help either.”

Jin gestures to the table so he could get a good look at your injury under the light.

You inhale sharply as he takes the bandage off.

“It’s healing well, still no sign of infection.” His eyes are on the wound but his mind seems to be elsewhere. “RM and I are planning the memorial for tomorrow. I hope that we did not overstep. Is there anything that you might like to include?”

“No, you clearly knew him better than I did. Thank you for setting it up.”

“It’ll just be us there, is that okay?”

You nod smiling through the pain. You understand, that it’s time to put your mask back on, and face reality in your new role, heir to the billionaire philanthropist. “Keeping everything out of the spotlight would probably be for the best.”

Hope had laid out a black pencil skirt and green blouse with a trench coat. Coat in hand you make your way downstairs. V is at the door along with Namjoon, Jhope and Jimin.

“You can tell that Hope dressed you, that boy loves green. I’ll have to take you shopping sometime.” V comments.

“He does does he?” You eye him carefully as he stands next to you. While the rest are receiving orders you lean over to Hope. “Sales clerk picked them out huh?”

“She asked for my favourite colour what was I supposed to say?”

“That it wasn’t for your girlfriend you dork, you could have just invented a friend in the hospital or something.”

He gives you a nervous smile, as he helps you put on your coat.

Once Namjoon has finished talking to the rest of the group, he turns to you. “Henry will meet you at the bank, he’s your father’s lawyer and has handled your father’s accounts for several years. V is the best at handling the legal aspects. If you have any questions, he can help.”

He looks down at you grabbing your shaking hands, “This is the easy part I promise, just a few dotted lines to sign.”

He could tell you are getting nervous. This isn’t your first choice. You could say no, however that would be a disadvantage, not only to the team, but also your father’s foundation.

J-Hope and Jimin sit in the front, you are seated in the back with V, who has matched your formal attire with a suite. The drive there is quiet. V would look over at you every now and then with a side glance.

When you pull up to the bank V opens the door and holds out his hand to take yours. As he guides you up the marble steps he whispers, “No need to be worried, if anything they should be nervous. You could shut this whole bank down by simply demanding your money. Actually, let’s try it, give them a bit of a scare.”

You chuckle, “Thanks V, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” When you reach the top a younger gentleman bows to you. “Miss (L/N)?” You are taken aback. In Busan you went by your mother’s maiden name (L/N), while everyone in Seoul called you Park. Hearing it again makes you feel like your life is split in two. Sensing your apprehension he corrects himself, “Forgive me would you prefer Miss Park?”

V introduced him before you can answer, “(Y/N) this is Lau Henry, he will be assisting you now, he has agreed to continue to conduct your father's business under your name.”

You greet him with a nod, “Park is more suitable going forward.”

“He was in charge of drafting the will and has known about you for some time.” V says darkly.

“The information was all there you just had to know where to look V.”

“How was I to expect that he would keep a daughter hidden?!”

“Of course a man of his wealth and status would have a child, what did you think would happen when he passed?”

“I don’t know I thought that he might adopt RM, take him on as an heir.”

Your anxiety immediately goes into overdrive. Oh god is that what they thought? Are they bitter because Namjoon wasn’t the heir? Are they just pandering until they could take the money from you? Do they just see you as an obstacle to overcome? The possibilities keep popping into you mind, each one worse than the last.

As you are being lead into the bank you are introduced to several people but you can’t hear a word that anyone was saying. You are drowning in your own head.

You wish V wasn’t so perceptive. Apologizing for your inattentiveness and trying to shield you from the barrage of legal information. Your heart continues to beat at a racing pace, your breathing shallow. The lawyers leave the room for a moment to grab the documents needed. V reached for you hand, “Just a couple of signatures and we are out of here. Think of something that brings focus to your mind it’ll help you relax. I personally like think of ways I could rob these crooks,” He smiles.

“An interesting method,” You laugh at his joke, thankful for the distraction, that interrupts your thoughts.

“Real money can be messy, acquiring the zeros digitally would be safer and less trackable, but also less fun,” he adds.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Of course, you need...” V suddenly zones out mid sentence. “Yep I see them JK.”

V is obviously listening to a conversation in his earpiece. You are flustered having been once again left in the dark.

“How the hell am I supposed to know who they are with, I’m not the one with the database in front of me.” He continues to bicker with the voices in his ear.

Your temper rises, “Who do you have to fuck to get an earpiece?” You mutter darkly hoping he would catch on to your annoyance.

V instantly shut down. “Ah sorry, that would be me... not that you need to exchange sexual favours for a radio, I’m just in charge of tech.” He pulled a new ear piece out of his breast pocket. “JK put ear piece 2 - 1 - Charlie - Golf on the channel, listed as Fire.”

He placed a hand under my chin as he put the bud in my ear. “Fit okay?” You nod. “My mic is in here,” He taps his collar, “Sorry I don’t have an extra one of those, but mine should be able to pick you up.”

“Okay guys let's keep the crassness to a minimum, Fire is online. First person to swear has to answer to Jin.”

“Welcome Fire.” I could hear the smile in J Hope's voice. Hearing your old nickname comforts you.

“No existing records that I can see.” JK must have still been trying to work out who they were.

“Can I take a closer look?”

“No stay at your post Jimin. I don’t want them catching on that we know. They must be new blood.”

“They are probably just following you to get a location when you return to the base.” V turns to you unexpectedly, “What do you think we should do in this case Fire?”

You are confused but his interest in your opinion but decide to play along. “Ignore them, let them follow until we can get to a busy place with lots of turns and escape routes.”

“Looks like we are going to the art museum,” V smiles.

“Are you even allowed in there V?” asks Jimin.

“I am as long as they don’t recognize me.”

Henry and the bankers chose this time to return to the office preventing you from asking V why he wouldn’t be allowed in.

You began to sign the papers in a daze as the conversation in your head continues.

“Nope definitely not allowed in they have a mug shot on the banned list, I doubt they would be able to identify him now I mean look at that hair!”

“Send me a pic JK,” Jimin whines.

“Check your phone it’s already there.”

“Ha hair, more like lack of, nice buzz cut.”

V’s face is blank. He takes out his phone types a quick message and then returns it to his pocket.”

“You could try beating me to a fucking pulp, but I don’t think you would last one round.”

Once again V take out his phone.

“I didn’t swear in front of her I was just reading your text, aishhh Jin is going to kill me.”

You see a slight smile slide onto V’s face.

“Miss Park that should be it, I will have a financer contact you later on to go over your plans for the foundation, and your own funds. I am sure that you would like some time to process before you dive into it.”

“Yes thank you. That would be the best course of action.”

“The transfers will take tonight so you should have access to your funds by tomorrow.”

One of the bankers stood up. “Congratulations Miss Park, you are now one of the richest people in Korea.” He boasts.

You snap at his smug grin, “Congratulations? Tell me do you think I am proud I watched my father die in front of me? Do you think I enjoyed it? That is the only reason I am hear after all, am I to be congratulated for his demise? Believe me when I say, I would gladly give away every dime of that inheritance to bring him back.” You can hear shouts of agreement over the earpiece.

“My apologies mamame I did not intend to insult you.”

“No, no of course not... I’m sure it would not be an insult coming from someone who values wealth over human life.” You turn to Henry, “We should consider changing financial establishments I am not sure that I trust the way that they conduct business here. If you could contact other banking institutions on my behalf I would like to meet with them.”

Henry nods taking down notes with a small smile. The bank manager is in shock. “Madame I am truly sorry for the offense. How can we insure that we keep your patronage?” The formality coming from a man of his age towards you is almost enough to make me laugh. You have him scared shitless.

“Perhaps we could continue this meeting with Lunch at La Yeon?” He suggests

“So you can wine and dine me? You continue to dig yourself a deeper hole. Show me that you and your bank can actually work for a community for once instead of bleeding it dry. Then maybe I will allow you to continue holding my father’s fortune.”

You turn your back on their ninety degree bows, V at your side beaming. You say goodbye to Henry at the lobby exit. V pulls you into an alcove over at the side. “Your father would have been proud of how you handled yourself in there.”

You smile back at him. You knew going in they would try to take advantage you and your situation, keeping them on their toes would be the easiest way to show you would not be controlled.

“Ready for the next test?”

“Two hawks still hovering,” JK comments.

“Right, let’s move.” He offered his arm to me, “Best to look as natural as possible, as if we are on our way to the museum for a date.”

“Don’t push it V,” Scolds Hope.

“As friends of course,” V adds trying to cover his intentions.

You take his arm as you exit the bank.

“We will meet you guys there, the second you lose them head to the car it’ll be at the back entrance.”

“Jimin stay on as driver, JHope will be extraction backup for emergencies only. The less attention we can draw the better. Fire is still the center of the news cycle, we don’t need another scene just yet.” JK informs them of their roles.

You couldn’t help but speed up your pace as you walk down the street.

“Whoa slow it down, we need to give the others time to set up the route, and you don’t want to let on that we know. I am going to point at this very uninteresting bakery on the right, you are going to look at it, laugh and see if you can spot the hawks out of the corner of your eye.”

You do just that, noticing two people that didn’t fit with the surrounding crowd.

“Two sore thumbs in suites?”

V confirms, “Bingo! JK do you have the museum’s cameras online yet?”

“Yeah busy day there it’ll be easy to loose them in the crowd. It looks like they shut down the back west portion for renovations. It’s completely empty, might be a good place to break away and make a run for it I can turn off the alarms on the doors so you will go unnoticed, but V will need to grab a key..”

“Any idea on who they are with yet?” V asks

“Still nothing turning up in the database.” JK sighs in disappointment.

“Damn, I would really like to know who we are about to piss off.”

“Based on proximity it might be EXO.” Guesses Jimin.

“Let’s hope it’s not.” Responds Hope.

A light drizzle begins to descent as you continue to walk. V pulls out an umbrella and you both huddle beneath it , several other pedestrians around you popping open their own.

“They are going to get closer as to not lose us, just remain calm and follow my lead.” His slender hand grabs yours as you continue down the street.

The museum is in constant flux with exhibits. The Van Gogh exhibition doesn’t open for three more days. This leaves the west wing, our destination closed to the public. V buys the tickets as you grab a map, but instead of focusing on the exhibits you memorize the exits.

“Looks like that closed exhibit is still going to be your best bet every other corner of this place is full of people and someone will notice an abrupt exit.” JK instructs.

You are able to stop by a few of the other displays before making our way to the final destination. If V is nervous he didn’t show it, instead he seems to be enjoying himself. You clench the map and umbrella, repeating V’s tips in your head, slow your pace, don’t make sudden movements, smile, and focus on the art. After a sufficient amount of time you notice your convoy starts to lag back again. You see a sign stating that the exhibit you’re approaching is closed.

“Still empty JK?’

“Yeah the only people inside are the ballet dancers in the paintings.”

V had taken a key card from a security guard but the door is already unlocked.

“Wait,” you grabbed V’s arm realizing that something is wrong, “Van Goh didn’t paint ballet...”

You don’t get to finish your thought before being pulled into the room by V. You had run into the gallery blindly trusting JK’s assessment. The frames on the walls are empty, the room is not.

The door shut behind you. You have a strange sense of Deja Vu come over you. V shoves me into a corner and places himself between me and the 4 men now approaching. Your shoulder hits the wall causing you to wince but the pain was nothing compared to the fear you now feel. I remember these faces from the police database in Busan. All of the major cities in Korea had files on the suspected members of EXO.

“Wasn’t sure that you would come, but now I can see that you are as predictable as ever V.” The leader spoke, you recognize him as Suho from his mug shot. How could they have know to set this up? Someone had to have told them you were on your way here.

You look at the bare walls, “Must have been a screenshot they had on file, the Dega exhibit hasn’t been here for a while.” You mutter to V hoping they can hear you through his mic.

You heard JK cursing loudly on the headset. “Can’t believe I fell for a fucking screenshot.”

Jimin becomes the voice of reason, “Calm down, find them a way out of there.”

“I can’t it’s gone dark now, all of it has. Their hacker must have a more direct connection.”

Two of the members came up on either side of V, he take a swing but receives a punch to the gut instead, giving them a chance to take hold of his arms.

You mind is racing, thinking back to the map. Only two exits from this room the door we came in, the other the other at the end of the series of adjoining rooms. Definitely not ideal.

Suho approaches V, pulls out his earpiece and crushes in on the floor with his foot.

“V’s radio is damaged, Hope you’re up.”

“On my way (Y/N), keep them distracted and whatever you do don’t let them move you, Jimin be ready with the car.”

“I heard that you had quite the security breach the other night. GOT7 getting in the manor grounds. My patron was sad to hear of the death of Mr. Park, he will be paying his respects soon. But for another gang to take out your founder, I don’t think your reputation will ever recover from that devastation.”

V grits his teeth. “You speak of it as though EXO had nothing to do with it, we all know who holds the leash of GOT7.”

“GOT7 acted on their own, although we might have let it slip that BTS were the ones interfering with their cargo deliveries.”

V pulls against those holding him.

“But we are not here to gloat, play nice pooch I need to talk to your new master for a moment.”

V wasn’t having it as they pulled him away from his position in front of me. He lashes out only to receive a beating in return.

Suho looks to you, “Forgive my rudeness Miss Park. I will have to introduce myself as V seems determined to keep you from me.”

“No need Suho, let’s cut the formalities. What do you want?”

His eyes flare, you are sure he did not expect you to respond in such an aggressive manner. “My patron wished for me to pass along a message. He would like for BTS to disband, and call off any projects. There is no point in continuing your father’s foolish goals. He wouldn’t want you to encounter the same fate as your mother.”

You can’t hide the shock on your face. Suho holds a smirk and steps closer to you, “They haven’t told you yet have they?”

You could barely hear Jimin over the ear piece. “I’m so sorry Fire, we were going to tell you.”

You are petrified but at the same time furious. Completely distracted you are unsure of what to do. JHope calls your attention back, “Fire I’m outside the door, I need a distraction, I’m going in blind.”

You realize that you are still clutching the umbrella in your hand. Suho doesn’t seem to notice your earpiece thanks to your hair. You doubt that he can expect what’s coming next. “Now!” you shout as you swing your umbrella at Suho’s face making contact with his nose.

Hearing your voice J-Hope comes bursting in the door guns in hand. V uses this moment of surprise to take down his captors. You both made a break for Hope but you are not so lucky. Suho catches your arm and hold you against his chest as a shield.

Hope is livid, “Suho you’re sporting a little blood on your face, it’s a good look. If you want we could add to it.”

“As if you would have the guts to shoot me with her right here.”

“I might not, but Suga does.” J-Hope smiles.

The colour drains from Suho face as he looks to the windows, and the tall buildings outside. You are suddenly thrust forward. V catches hold of you.

“No need, call him off we were just here to deliver a message.”

JHope mutters, “stand down” while holding his ear as if he was talking to someone. You can only hear Jimin on the line chuckling darkly.

“I’m guessing you heard it, tell RM to back off his plan or next time we’ll take her.” His glare at you does not go unnoticed, as V grips you even tighter. Suho continues with a lighter tone, “I was hoping that Jin would be here too, if you could pass on the well wishes of his father and the invitation to return.”

Once again you are stunned by his words, but your desire to flee is far greater than your curiosity.

J-Hope steps slowly back to the door, you and V follow suit. “If you think Jin is going back to his father, you must be on your own product.”

“No, I just understand how detrimental it can be to lose one's founder. You have a new link in the chain. Sure it’s pretty but it’s also weak, she won’t be able to support you before you come crashing down. It would be wiser for Jin to come back while he still can.” Suho turned his eyes back to you, “ It was lovely to meet you Miss Park. I’m sure we will see you again soon.”

You continue to retreat until your backs made it to the door. J-Hope still has his guns aimed, while you and V slip out the door, he quickly follows once your clear. You run down the hall to the exit V flipping the fire alarm on the way. All at once, there is a rush of the people to the doors hope grabs both you and V to prevent separation. Anyone watching would have had difficulty picking you out of the crowd. The tinted SUV is off to the side of the exit, you all scramble in. Jimin keeping his eyes on the rear-view mirror as he pulls out onto the road.

#bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts under fire series #bts gang au #bts x reader #bts reader insert #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #slight ot7 x reader #bts hyung line x reader

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skip-to-my-lup · 5 years

Text

that’s not my name pt. 3

He has to admit. He has a bit too much fun the third go around.

It's summer and the local farmer's market is thriving. He's just finished buying the best fresh ingredients that his paycheck can buy, which is a surprising amount thanks to the sale going on, when a warm hand finds his. It's larger and a little sweaty, but not all-together unpleasant.

For a stranger's hand at least.

He's about to rip his hand from the unfamiliar grip, but a voice stops him. "C'mon, Lup." It's gravelly and a lot deeper than he'd expect from the smaller man. "You gotta stop running ahead like that. I'm going to end up losing you that way."

The man isn't unattractive by any means, but he is a bit too plain for Taako's tastes. Which, if he's being honest, are quite refined. But, he has to admit that between the glasses and brown frumpy hair he's actually kinda cute. And, while the denim on denim would look absolutely horrible on most people he makes it work somehow.

This Lup person certainly is lucky.

He walks with the man for a few steps. He realizes that it's been a while since he's held someone's hand. It feels nice. But it also feels like he's cheating a little bit by not admitting to this poor frazzled man that he is, in fact, not his significant other.

"As much as I like the attention, my man. I don't believe that I'm the person you were looking for."

The man yelps and withdraws his hand as if he'd been burned. He looks Taako up and down before gasping. He points a finger at him and it takes an awful large amount of self-control for Taako not to be too offended.

"Are you Taako?"

"Got it in one." He laughs. "How'd you know?"

"Merle mentioned meeting a Lup look-alike on the bus about a month ago. I thought he was just trying to be funny, but it appears as though he wasn't lying."

"Was that the old dwarf or the big guy with the sideburns?"

The man guffaws. "God. Merle's going to hate it that you called him a dwarf."

"So, old guy then. Got it."

Taako watches as the man laughs even harder. It takes him a little while to get himself under control. He's pretty sure that the joke wasn't that funny, but he can't help the smirk that spreads across his face.

"Oh, man," He says once he's finally calmed down some. "Lup would love to meet you."

"At this rate I probably will, what with so many of you mistaking me for her," Taako says dryly.

A ringtone breaks through their conversation. It takes a second for Taako to recognize it, but he's pretty sure it's from an anime. The man reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone and… yes. That's definitely an anime phone case.

Nerd.

"Sorry, I—"

Taako waves a hand. "I need to be going anyways. See you and your crew around I guess."

The man answers the phone. Taako goes to leave by the man holds up a finger "One sec," he says into the phone as he fumbles in his other pocket. He pulls out a small pad of paper and starts writing. After a moment he rips the paper out and holds it out to Taako.

"Here. "

"What's this?"

"My number. I—"

"You know usually I get a name before a number." Taako winks.

The man splutters, cheeks red. "I-It's not! I'm hap-p-pily—!"

Taako laughs.

Hard.

The flustered man before him groans as he rubs a hand underneath the bridge of his nose. "God what am I getting myself into."

"Probably a lot of trouble."

"Apparently." He sighs. "My name is Barry. I'm giving you my number because I'm pretty sure that Lup would like to meet you sometime, but she hasn't met you yet so I'd hate to just give her number out. So I figured, if you were interested, we could chat a bit more when we're not going in different directions. And then set up a hang-out between everyone."

"I'll… think about it."

Barry nods. "I get it. No pressure. Just knew I'd regret it if I didn't. Take care, Taako."

"You, too."

"Bye!" Barry gives him a friendly wave before turning around and bringing his phone to his ear. "Sorry about that. I had to…"

And then he's lost to the crowd.

Taako looks down at the paper. Scrawled in messy handwriting is an unfamiliar local number below the name Barry. He's pretty sure that he'll never actually text the man. He can't deny that there's a growing part of him that wants to, but what would he even do?

He'll probably never find out, though, because just as he's about to stuff the paper into his pocket a young boy knocks into him, sending the paper flying, his groceries spilling, and himself falling to the ground.

He watches it all in slow motion. He tries to catch it, but the wind steals it away and he loses sight of it amongst the trees above. Tomatoes, schallots, and potatoes roll away. And, he crashes onto his butt, lightly scraping his hands in the process of catching himself.

And a bike whizzes through the spot that he'd been standing moments before.

"I'm sorry, sir!" The boy says loudly as he scrambles over to him to check on him. "Are you hurt?"

"No." He looks down at his scraped hands. It'll be a bitch in the kitchen, but he's dealt with worse. "I'm fine. How about you, though?"

"I'm good! But, may I say that those hands don't look all that good."

Normally Taako would push him away, but all these strangers coming in and out of his life in the last few months must have desensitized him some because he allows the kid in his personal space with no problems. The kid gently inspects his hands and he shakes his head at how torn up they are. Without missing a beat, he reaches down and unzips a fanny pack around his waist. Pulling out two large band-aids, a small alcohol swab, and a package of antibiotic he offers them to Taako. "Here. I'll go get your groceries while you put those on."

He doesn't give Taako much choice because once the items are no longer in his hands he's turning around and dashing off to retrieve his groceries. Taako is left sitting on his ass, shocked, and unmoving. All he can do is watch as the kid collects everything save for a squashed tomato. He shakes himself out of it and stands as the boy returns and starts putting his groceries back in the, miraculously untouched, bag.

"I'm sorry, again, sir. There was a bike coming by and you weren't looking so I had to—"

"It's okay, kid." He takes one last forlorn look at the trees before turning back to the kid. "I guess I should actually be thanking you, though. A beaten up tomato is better than a beaten up Taako."

The boy blinks. "Is that your name?"

He braces himself. "Sure is."

"That's so cool! Mine is Agnus!" He gives him a bright smile as finishes returning his vegetables to the bag. "It's nice to meet you, sir!"

"Angus?" A voice shouts above the crowd. "Angus, where are you?"

"Over here, dad!" He turns around and waves. At first Taako doesn't see any one and then—

One of the most handsome men, aside from himself, appeared to be making his way through the crowd in his direction.

It should be a crime to look so crisp in a pink button down shirt, black slacks, and shoes so shiny that he could see his own face in them. But no. Here this man was, a free man no less, and the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome as hell.

"There you are!" The man kneels down to be down on Angus' height. "How many times do I have to tell you not to run off on me?"

"Sorry. There was a bike coming and I could tell that Mr. Taako here wasn't going to see it in time so I had to come over and make sure that he wouldn't get hurt."

The man groans. "That's very brave of you, but you have to be careful. I thought I had lost you."

"I know…" Angus looks down. "I'll make sure to tell you where I'm going next time."

Taako can tell that the man is quite exasperated, but the smile he gives is genuine despite that. He reaches forward and gives his son a hug. "I'd prefer there not be a 'next time', but I suppose I'll have to settle for that for now."

He stands, hand still on Angus' shoulder, and when he turns in Taako's direction, he's pretty sure that a lesser man would have melted on the spot.

"Are you alright?"

"P-Peachy."

Taako could slap himself for stuttering. Who was he? That Barry guy?

The man glances down at Taako's hands. "Are your hands okay?"

"Um…"

Taako looks down at them and fully registers the blood that was appearing in the scrapes, staining the unopened supplies Angus had given him.

Oops.

"Here, let me see them." The man reaches forward and takes Taako's hands in his own. Taako looks down at them as well and notices that they're starting to bleed a little bit where he had been unconsciously crushing the first aid supplies that Angus had given him. He looks up and finds the man frowning. "There's a bench over here, let me help you get these cleaned up."

"I'll get the groceries, sir."

Taako really wants to refuse, but he can't find the energy to. So, without much prodding on this handsome stranger's part, he's led over to a bench on the edge of the park near the market. It's a lot less crowded and offers a bit more privacy.

"Here," Angus says as he hands his father a pair of gloves retrieved from his fanny pack as well.

The man puts them on with practiced ease (Jesus was this guy a doctor or something?!) and reaches out for Taako's hands. He pauses and looks to Taako, "May I?"

"Sure, my dude."

He reaches out and takes his hands in his and they're… surprisingly gentle. And cold. He'll blame the chills he's experiencing on this man's cold doctor hands.

Speaking of which…

"You know, usually I get a name before someone holds my hand."

Baring that Barry guy, anyways.

The man pauses in his careful scrutiny to look at him, abashed. "Sorry. The name's Kravitz."

"Nice to meet you."

"You as well." This Kravitz fellow smiles.

"Is it okay if I go over and look at the stand over there?" Angus pipes up. He looks… almost mischievious and Taako isn't sure how to take that.

Kravitz weighs the idea of his son going off again. "Please leave your fanny pack here, I feel as though I'll need the gauze in it. "

"Yay! Just come get me when you're ready to head out," Angus says with a wink.

"And stay in—"

And then he's gone.

"That boy," Kravitz sighs. "Don't mind him. He's been trying to set me up with someone for a while now."

"Oh?" He winces as the man cleans his wound with a alcohol wipe.

"Sorry." Kravitz pauses, presumably to give Taako a moment to recover from the stinging in his hand. After a few moments he returns to the task at hand. "And yes. I overheard him talking to our neighbor, Killian, about it. Apparently it's his year-end goal."

"That's quite the goal."

"Yes it is," he laughs. "I don't have the heart to tell him that it's not that simple."

"I mean..."

Taako clamps his mouth shut and looks anywhere but at the near stranger before him.

Usually he has more control over his speech. And doesn't say more than two words to complete strangers and minds his own business when not at work. He also usually doesn't have any interest in dating a man with a kid.

But, if he was being honest, he was getting pretty tired of his usual routine.

"If you were interested I would like to pay you back for helping me. Maybe take you out to a local café or something? I know the barista at Vin et Poterie. She makes the best tea and dirty bean water you could ever imagine."

Taako is pretty sure that the offer is a shot in the dark from the way that the man focuses back on his hands while bandaging them with gauze. Part of him wants to take the offer back with a joke, but it isn't one.

Not really.

Kravitz gently tapes the bandages and Taako expects him to take his hands away. To let go. But, instead, he keeps a gentle hold on them. Taako looks down and can't help but admit that out of the strangers' hands that have held his own today, he much prefers these.

"Dirty bean water, eh?"

"Yeah," Taako laughs as he meets Kravitz's dark brown eyes. "I'm not much of a coffee drinker myself, but all of her customers are always raving about it."

Kravitz nods. "I suppose I didn't really have anything else important to do with the rest of my day."

Taako feels an excited fluttering in his stomach as the man holding his hands smiles at him.

Score.

"I'll have to drop Angus off with our neighbors, but I imagine you have to drop off your groceries at home as well?"

Taako looks down at the groceries. They were just vegetables and fruits… "None that need to be refrigerated right away."

"Well." Kravitz laughs. "Then I guess we can drop Angus off together and then go off to enjoy some tea and dirty bean water."

"Sounds like a date."

And then they were off.

#sgsfanfiction #taako taaco #barry bluejeans #taz kravitz #angus mcdonald #taakitz #taz fanfic #taako's love life might be a side plot to this fic #ooops #oh well #XD

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