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enchantestuff · 3 years

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hatred - Charles Leclerc

I think I might make this into a mini series with an enemies to civil with each other to friends to lovers kind of vibe but I'm still not sure, anyways here's Charles x reader wanting to rip each others throats but instead end up ripping each others clothes off

gonna dedicate this to the lovely @yungbludz happy birthday <33

GIF NOT MINE

warnings; smut as per usual, Charles being very egotistical, choking, language, enjoy <3

2k words

part two

It was safe to say you and Charles hated each other. You knew hate was a strong word, but you also knew that you felt nothing but hatred for the man. You hated his cocky smile and the fact that everyone seemed to be obsessed with him. You also hated the fact that you had to spend the whole weekend with him.

You worked for Ferrari, meaning that, unfortunately, you had to spend a lot of time with Charles. You were actually excited when you first got the job of being Charles Leclerc's PR manager. You had admired the driver and couldn’t wait to work alongside him, but that all changed once you actually met him and realised what an ass he really was. Everyone else loved him, of course, because he seemed to be nice to every single person on the planet except you.

You and a select number of the Ferrari team had been invited to a special charity event taking place in the ballroom of a luxurious hotel. You had all decided to check into the hotel the day before the event, in order to save time and familiarise yourself with the venue. Of course, according to your job description, you also had to run through the possible questions Charles could be asked with him.

Although Charles loathed you, he had to admit you were good at your job and managed to prepare him for every possible scenario, which is why he hadn’t begged Mattia to fire you, at least not yet.

You sighed as you reached the check in desk, all you wanted to do was flop onto the hotel bed and sleep until the morning. You gave the lady behind the desk your name and watched as she quickly typed on the computer in front of her. “Ah yes, Y/N and Charles, room 506”

Your eyes widened at her words as you shook your head. “No no, that can’t be right” you pleaded as you leaned your arms against the counter.

“Im sorry ma'am, but the booking is for the both of you” she explained with apologetic eyes as she handed you the room key.

“Take your time, Y/N. Not like we aren’t all exhausted from our long trip” you heard Charles scold from behind you. You quickly turned around and shoved the room key into his chest.

“Politetly, go fuck yourself, Leclerc” you muttered as you shouldered past him and walked straight to Mattia on the other side of reception. Mattia sighed once you walked over and gestured for you to begin arguing with him, he knew it was going to happen.

“Why? Why would you stick me in a room with that-that imbecile!” you snapped.

“Listen, Y/N, i know how much you dislike him and vice versa, but everyone had to be paired with someone and I thought this was the best option for you both” he explained with a soothing voice.

“Why do I have to be with her?” you heard Charles ask from behind you. You felt small standing in front of him, his broad frame practically trapping you between him and Mattia.

“Y/N is your PR manager, it's her job to prepare you for this event” Mattia once again calmly explained

“And she couldn’t do that over breakfast?” Charles inquired, you could feel his tense gaze on the back of your head and you whipped around scoffing at him as you placed your hands on his hips.

“Don’t act like this was my idea! Not everyone wants to share a room with you Charles, get your head out of your ass”

Charles opened his mouth to throw a rude remark your way but Mattia stopped him before he got the chance. “The both of you are sharing this room, whether you like it or not. I think everyone would prefer if you took this time to sort out your problems instead of bickering like children. I’ll see you both at breakfast. Goodnight,” he scolded as he walked off with his luggage in tow.

You felt your cheeks redden as embarrassment creeped up your shoulders. “Are you trying to get me fired?” you accused Charles as you grabbed your own luggage and made way for the elevator.

He shrugged in response, “Wouldn’t be the worst thing” he muttered, stepping inside with you. You pressed your floor number and sighed in frustration. “Can you stop breathing so loud?” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“It was a sigh, dipshit.”

“Trust me, i don't want to be near you as much as you don't want to be near me”

“Glad we're on the same page” you replied, stepping out of the elevator and storming to your room, which in hindsight was a foolish idea as Charles had the key and you had to wait for him as he took his sweet time walking up the hallway.

He unlocked the door with a smug look on his face and stepped in before you, dropping his luggage on the floor as he surveyed the room. “You have got to be kidding me” he complained once he saw the double bed in the middle of the room.

“Oh what is it now, Charles?” you asked as you shut the door behind you “is the carpet not to your liking? Is it too bright? Are there no chocolates on the pillow” you continued and slipped off your shoes, “do you want me to - oh shit” you cursed as you saw the predicament you both were in. “Looks like you're sleeping on the floor” you shrugged whilst walking towards the bed.

“I am NOT sleeping on the floor,” Charles complained.

“What? And you think I am?” you argued, once again placing your hands on your hips.

“I don’t see why not,” he commented, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I am not sharing a bed with you, Leclerc! So you,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “are going to have to step off your mighty throne and take the gentleman approach and sleep,” jab “on,” jab “the floor,” you snapped.

Charles raised his eyebrow as he stared at you. You could cut the tension between the two of you with a knife, it was almost unbearable. You had never fought this long, somebody had always interrupted you both before you got the chance to really push each other's buttons. “I'm going to say this nice and slow, sweetheart,” Charles growled, taking a step forward, you in turn took a step back as you removed your finger from his chest, “I’ll take the high road, we can share the bed just this once, as long as you stop acting like the spoiled princess that you will never be” he continued to walk towards you as he spoke and you were eventually trapped against the wall.

Charles moved his hand to lie on the wall next to your head, the distance between the two of you becoming smaller and smaller by the second. “I might be ready to step off my throne but are you ready to be a good girl and step off yours too?” he concluded.

“Bite me, Charles” you retorted and something in the both of you snapped as you grabbed his face in your hands and he roughly grabbed your waist. Your lips violently pressed against his as your tongues practically fought against each other. You almost moaned at the force of his kiss, but refused to give him the satisfaction.

Charles pulled away, giving your mouth a final short kiss before he moved to mark your neck. “Come on, princess. Stop being stubborn for once in your life and let me hear the noises that you can make''

You however kept your mouth shut, Charles smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “If that's how you want to play it,” he smirked before gently grabbing your breast and slipping his hands into the waistband of your leggings. He rubbed circles on your clit as he pinched your nipples. “I want to hear you, sweetheart,” he grunted.

You rolled your eyes back in pleasure and involuntarily let out a moan. Charles felt his dick twitch in his pants and cockily grinned as he kissed right under your nose. “Good girl,” he whispered. It wasn't long before his trousers were discarded as well as your own leggings. You hadn’t moved however and were still pressed up against the wall. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked and although you felt your heart skip a beat you rolled your eyes at him and nodded.

“Yes, please just - just hurry up” you squirmed against the wall. That seemed to be all the validation he needed. He slowly put a condom on before easing into you. You scrunched your eyes at the uncomfortable feeling and tapped him to move. Your lips parting on their own accord as the feeling was replaced with pure pleasure. Charles forcefully grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist, providing him with a better angle for both himself and you.

“O-oh shit” you moaned as you scraped your nails down his shoulders to his arms, which left harsh red marks in their wake. Charles moaned at the feeling and you were almost aroused by the sound. Almost.

One of Charles hands were digging into the soft flesh of your thigh while the other moved to wrap itself around your neck, his signature pinky ring digging into the flesh of your skin causing you to mimic his actions and let out a moan at the pain.

“You like that?” he grunted as he continued to thrust into you, lightly placing some pressure on your throat, not enough to suffocate you, he didn't hate you that much, but enough for you to enter a state of pure bliss.

“I hate you, Leclerc” you found yourself muttering but you certainly did not hate him at that very moment.

“Feelings mutual, love”

You continued to scrape your nails across his back, desperate to pull more moans out of him. Charles however, didn't like being the only vulnerable one and removed his hands from your throat, he grabbed both of your hands in his own and shoved them upwards, beginning his assault on your chest.

Your toes curled as he hit all the right spaces, you knew you were close but you really didn’t want to be the first one to let go. Charles could feel the clenching of your walls and smirked into your chest. “Are you close, princess?” he asked, bringing his mouth to your lips and for some reason you found yourself kissing him back.

“No” you blatantly lied.

You moved your head closer to him when he pulled away but he refused to connect your lips once more and you found yourself pouting at the lack of attention. God, how pathetic had you become.

“Now, i knew you were a spoiled brat but i didn't take you for a liar as well”

“Glad to know your ego has no off moments, Charles” you scoffed and were about to start an argument before he began slowly pounding into you, his precise thrusts made it extremely difficult to formulate a sentence let alone hold onto the knot in your stomach. So, against your brain telling you not to, you let go.

You would have fallen onto the ground if it wasn’t for Charles' strong grip trapping you against the wall and his own body. The noises that he made as he reached his own high caused your heart to flutter in your chest and you began to wonder if having sex with him was a bad idea.

“Are you okay?” he asked after he had pulled away from you. You nodded your head as you furrowed your eyebrows

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you asked.

You were surprised the both of you were capable of having a normal conversation, but you supposed nothing could be normal between you after that.

Charles gently ran a finger across your neck and by the look on his face you knew you looked worse for wear. “I kind of lost myself in the moment, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Really I am” he clarified.

“Its okay” you sighed as you rubbed your neck, “lets just go to sleep”

“I’m still not sleeping on the floor”

“Just stay on your side of the bed, Leclerc”

#Charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #forumla 1 imagine #f1 #formula one imagine

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the-void-i-scream-into · 3 years

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White Tulips - a JunJin fanfic 1/3

Full Story: Part 2, Part 3

Hello everyone! I hope everyone who is reading this is healthy and safe. This is a fanfic about my favorite characters, Kang Sujin and Han Seojun. I really love these two together so I wrote what I had hoped to see in True Beauty. This is my first time writing fanfiction so its not that good. But I hope you still enjoy it. I didn’t change anything from True Beauty, rather continued the events from the ending with a focus on giving Sujin the redemption arc she so rightly deserved.

I really have to thank everyone on the shooters gc, especially @prodmina, for being so amazing and awesome. Never before have I come accross such amazing, wonderful, open and friendly group of people. I’m not that active on the chat, but I am so grateful it exists. Thank you to everyone on there. This is dedicated to you all.

Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun

Romantic Trope: Haters to friends to lovers

Word Count: 5.9k

Rating: T

PART 1

If you asked Han Seojun why he loved Lim Jukyung, he wouldn’t be able to answer. His feelings for her overwhelmed him to the point of inarticulation. His heart still skipped a beat every time he saw her at dinner with their group. He still found himself staring at her from time to time, unable to look away from her beauty. He even wrote songs about her, his only form of expressing his love for her.

He still thought of her in every free minute he had between practice, performance and recording sessions. When he couldn’t see her, he would watch her make-up tutorials online. He was proud of how far she had come with her career as a make-up artist. Her popularity was a source of delight for him. It was only appropriate that everyone see how amazing she was.

The only problem was, Lim Jukyung didn’t belong to him. She belonged to Lee Suho, his best friend.

Seojun was happy for the two of them. They were the best people he knew and even he had to acknowledge that they belonged together. Which was why, having these feelings were burdensome for Seojun.

It was burdensome, seeing them all lovey-dovey with each other and talking about their lives together. Normally Seojun would have faked a smile, but when they were all together in a group he scowled without reserve. He got away with it because right beside Suho and Jukyung, sat Taehoon and Suah who were the kind of cheesy couple that made anyone barf.

In fact, just the thought of Suah and Taehoon fawning over each other made him cringe. Even now as he walked into the special private room they frequented for their gatherings—private due to Seojun’s and Jukyung’s popularity—Seojun was pushing back his gag reflex at the squealing he could hear outside.

He scolded them as he entered the room. “Guys! I can hear you all the way from the front entrance. Why are you always so—” He stopped in his tracks. There, between a giggling Jukyung and beaming Suah sat the worst person Seojun had ever known.

Her.

He had heard peripherally about how she had changed now, having reformed as a charity worker. She had apparently apologized to Jukyung about the shitty things she had done before. As if an apology could change anything.

Han Seojun knew Jukyung had forgiven Kang Sujin. That woman had even attended Heekyung’s wedding. But Seojun didn’t understand why she had to invade their special gatherings.

The room had fallen silent. Everyone awkwardly stared at Seojun, then Sujin.

“It’s been a while, Han Seojun.” She said with a polite smile. Her voice deeper than most girls’. He always hated her voice and its lack of femininity.

Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

Seojun pushed the memory away.

“Ah-aah! Han Seojun. You must be surprised.” Jukyung said with forced cheerfulness. “I invited Sujin to join us today.

Seojun merely flicked a cynical brow at Jukyung and took his usual seat besides Suho. Suah and Jukyung nervously returned to their conversation.

The uncomfortable air in the room subsided after a while and everyone chatted cheerfully with each other. Everyone except Han Seojun.

“I saw your performance on TV. You looked good.” Suho told Seojun.

“Why the hell have you invited Kang Soojin?” Seojun asked Suho in a hushed tone.

“She’s a friend, of course she’s invited.”

“Why are you friends with her again?”

“Seojun, its fine.”

Seojun opened his mouth to protest but before he could, Sujin interrupted him.

“Ya, Han Seojun. I saw your performance on TV. I didn’t know you could sing so well.” She said, not sounding too impressed. “You were great.”

It was a peace offering. A way to start off on the right foot.

Seojun gave a sarcastic smile and tilted his head. “You should have known I was that good. I performed in school, didn’t I?”

“Oh right. I guess I didn’t really pay attention before.”

“You were too busy giving all of your attention to Lee Suho. I don’t expect you to have noticed anybody else.”

This time, the silence in the room was palpable. Taehoon audibly gulped. The only person unfazed was Sujin.

“Yeah. I was obsessed with Suho.” She said simply. “But now that I look back,” she made a frame with her forefingers and thumbs, “I think what the hell does Jukyung see in you?”

“Ya!” Suho protested so seriously that Jukyung giggled, breaking the tension.

“Honestly Jukyung. You’d be better off with me as your boyfriend.” Suah and Taehoon joined the laughter.

“Ya Kang Sujin, you stay away from my girlfriend.” Suho protested, pouting.

“You’re too serious, Lee Suho. Jukyung needs someone more fun.”

“At least I don’t go around kicking people in the face.”

“You wouldn’t be able to do it, even if you tried.”

“I know jujitsu, you know.”

“Okay, okay!” Jukyung said. And that was it, the friends were back to normal.

Seojun kept out of the conversations, eating and drinking on his own. No one dared to bother him lest he say something else to ruin the mood.

Han Seojun didn’t care to maintain a good mood. He had no tolerance for people like Kang Sujin; people who were bullies. And especially not when said bully had hurt someone he cared about very deeply. He didn’t buy this act that Sujin was pulling. He knew, that people never changed.

The conversation turned to Sujin and her charity work overseas. She talked animatedly about the children she and her non-profit group worked for. It made Seojun’s blood boil, how she was using a noble cause as a front for her true cold-hearted personality. That angel bullshit may work on others, but it would not work on Seojun.

He kept a close eye on her the entire time, almost glaring to the point where Suho had to poke him with his elbow to get him to look away. But Suho was blind, he should have seen how Sujin’s face gave the barest of glances of pain when he and Jukyung kissed each other and pulled each other’s cheeks and talked about living together.

“Oh, you guys share an apartment?” No one else noticed the high-pitchiness of Sujin’s voice when she asked this. No one, expect Seojun.

And then there was the stolen glances at Suho. That was the final nail in the coffin. Seojun was convinced that Sujin was pretending to be over Suho. She was still in love with him. And that was a problem.

“What’s wrong with you?” Suho confronted Seojun outside, when it was just the two of them waiting for the others to leave.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know the kind of person Kang Sujin is? How can you let her in again?”

“Calm down, Seojun-ah. That was all years ago.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Jukyung.”

“She’s not a bad person. I know her better than you. She made a mistake.”

“She knew what she was doing.”

“Haven’t you ever made a mistake before? Or are you telling me that blaming me for Seyeon’s death was the right thing to do?”

Seojun was quiet.

“Seojun-ah, don’t take this the wrong way. You have a tendency to judge too quickly, and misunderstand. If you really hate her that much then talk to her and ask her about her reasons. Don’t just go on assuming something is the way it is because you think so.”

Seojun grit his teeth.

“Shall we go?” Jukyung came up from behind, taking Suho’s arm. The rest of the group was behind her.

“Yeah. Bye everyone. See you next time.” The couple waved as others waved back. “Seojun, I hope you’ll think about what I said.”

Seojun just nodded and waved too. He watched Jukyung and Suho disappear into the crowd on the street.

The rest of them said their goodbyes and went their way, Seojun leaving after giving Sujin a distrusting side-eye.

ii.

I don’t want to be a fool like you and be just friends, only to like him one sidedly.

It had been such a long time ago when Kang Sujin had said this to Han Seojun, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. That and a couple of other memories that played in his mind, causing whiplash.

Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

Those words especially felt like a slap on his face. He could actually feel his cheek burning at the image of Kang Sujin standing there in her uniform, telling off him and his boys about bullying Jukyung.

He had respected her back then, for having the guys to stand up for her friend. Even though she had been all haughty like some arrogant princess and thought him a fool, he had still respected her. He had never expected her to turn out to be such a vile person.

Am I handsome?

Yes.

No, no, no. That was one incident he refused to remember. It meant nothing. Only a source of surprise at her bluntness, nothing more.

“Seojun, we’re going to hit the showers now, are you done?”

Seojun didn’t hear Chorong as he ran on the treadmill. His body was in the gym but his mind as fully occupied by Kang Sujin, as it had been for the past week.

“Han Seojun, are you listening?”

She must have had a reason for suddenly showing up out of the blue. She had disappeared completely when the truth about her had been revealed online. Obviously, she ran away like a coward. If she was back now, it must be because she wanted something. Kang Sujin could be very calculating and manipulative.

Was it because of Lee Suho?

“Han Seojun!”

Chorong’s voice snapped Seojun out of his thoughts and he fell backward from his treadmill.

“OOOH! Are you okay?”

“YA! Why would you do that?!” Seojun snapped at Chorong as he got back up. He checked himself for bruises though his dignity caught the worst of it.

“Ah-nee, I called you so many times. You were totally checked out.” Chorong explained.

“Does that make sense? Why would I be checked out?”

“Well… you have been out of it this past week. Has something been bothering you?”

Something had been bothering him; something with silky, black hair and long legs.

“What? You met Kang Sujin?” His entire posse sounded as he told them about her return. Seojun put a finger in his ears as he was bombarded with questions.

“Did she apologize to Jukyung? Are they friends now?”

“Did she tell where she was all that time?”

“Is she still pretty?”

“Is she single?”

“What is she doing these days?”

Seojun ignored all of these useless inquiries.

“Hey! Did you al forget the kind of person she is? How could you ask if she is still pretty?”

“She must be. I bet she’s still the same.”

“She was never pretty.” Seojun declared. “I can never understand what people see in her.”

“That’s because you only have eyes for one.” One of them teased and the rest of them Ooh-ed like school girls.

“Ah, shikkeureo! Shut up!” Chorong said in defense of Seojun. Out of everyone, Chorong understood best how much Seojun still pined for Jukyung. “So, what exactly is bothering you about Kang Sujin?”

“I don’t trust her. Especially around Jukyung.”

“Wae? Do you think she might still be after Lee Suho.”

“Yes. At least I suspect so. I’m not sure what game she’s playing at but I’m not buying this angel persona she has on.”

“So? You can’t exactly stop Jukyung from choosing to be friends with her.”

“I feel I can convince Jukyung if I talk to her.”

“She might just tell you to try to get along with Sujin.”

This was true. Jukyung was too nice and trusting with people. Seojun thought long and hard.

“I’ll have to protect her. I’ll have to keep Kang Sujin away from Jukyung.”

iii.

He had been on his way to the studio, casually riding by on his bike, when he saw her. She was in some blue vest, clearly a uniform of some sort. She was handing out fliers to people who passed by, smiling widely with that fake innocent look she had perfected. What a crock of shit. Seojun swerved around and parked his bike, then sauntered up to her with an amused expression.

She lit up when she saw him approach, waving animatedly at him. Her happiness upon seeing him surprised him so much that he stumbled and almost fell. He played it off as nothing, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“Ya Han Seojun, gimme your autograph.” She grinned as she pushed forward a petition to help kids in Africa.

Seojun didn’t take it. “What are you doing?” He asked rhetorically, looking at the pictures of children she had set up for people to see along with information as to how to donate. So she’s using these poor kids for her own selfish reasons?

“Huh?” Sujin hadn’t missed his tone. “Just sign it, its for a good cause. And being charitable will help your image too, no?” She tried appealing to his logic.

“Ooooh,” Seojun mocked, “So you keep up the pretense even when you’re not around Jukyung? Isn’t this a too much, Kang Sujin?”

Sujin’s smile dropped into a snarl, “What?”

“I’m on to you, Kang Sujin.” Seojun got up in her face. “Ah-nee, if you’re going to pretend to be all reformed then you shouldn’t make it too obvious. Charity work is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Sujin stared at him in shock and anger. Seojun suddenly recalled how well Sujin had kicked those thugs who had kidnapped Jukyung back in high school and gulped. He hoped she wouldn’t try to kill him in public but it was too late to take back what he said.

“Han Seojun…” Sujin said through clenched teeth and Seojun prepared for the worst.

Ya Han Seojun! Are you a gangster?!

But she said nothing. Instead she calmed herself, exhaling through her mouth.

“I probably deserve that.” She said, not backing away or cowering from him. She pushed the flier in his chest, “But don’t make these kids suffer because of your anger towards me. They could really use the support.”

Seojun looked down at the flier. He couldn’t sign anything without the consent of his agency. So he folded it up and pocketed it. Along with his pride. He could put his ego aside for a good cause.

“These kids deserve a better person representing them than you.” Seojun said. Sujin pressed her lips tightly.

“Aren’t you being a little too harsh? I’m not the same person anymore. And Jukyung has—”

“You may have everyone else fooled, Kang Sujin. But I will always remember what you are.” With that, Seojun walked away, his hand twitching.

iv.

The next time they all met up, Seojun made sure to sit between Sujin and Jukyung. He felt uncomfortable because he had to bump shoulders with her, but he would bear it for Jukyung.

Suho gave Seojun a warning look when they all sat down. Don’t do anything excessive, the look said. Seojun ignored it.

He could feel Sujin’s stiffness beside him. This was uncomfortable for her too. Good. If I’m suffering, she should too. But she kept up her polite façade, smiling like nothing bothered her.

Seojun made sure to keep her isolated from Jukyung. He didn’t let her speak to Jukyung, didn’t let her participate in the competitions. He even didn’t let her eat properly.

“Jukyung-ah, did I show you my pictures from—”

“Jukyung-ah, has your sister told you about the tour we’re planning?” Seojun interrupted.

Jukyung would be at a loss as to who to answer and Seojun would move forward, blocking Sujin.

When Suho or Jukyung tried to ask Sujin what she wanted to eat first, he took the first dish he saw and shoved it in front of her.

“Here, have this Kang Sujin.”

“I don’t want it.” She said with an unamused look.

“Take it.” He ordered in his intimidating baritone.

They glared at each other , Sujin’s face twitching with annoyance. Seojun mentally dared her to snap at him but she swallowed her pride, quite literally, and put on a fake smile.

“Thanks.” She said dryly.

By the end of dinner, Han Seojun had successfully managed to annoy Kang Sujin. Her fake persona was slipping as she clenched her jaw and exhaled excessively to keep her temper in check. Seojun guessed he would have her true personality on display by the end of the night.

“Han Seojun what are you doing?” Suho confronted him outside.

“What did I do?” Seojun feigned ignorance.

“You need to sto—”

“Han Seojun. Let’s talk.” Sujin strode up to them from behind, her face set with determination.

“No.” Seojun said.

“I wasn’t asking. I was telling.” And there she was, the old Sujin. Gone was the politeness and friendly demeanor. She stared boldly at him, almost challenging him to refuse again.

“Seojun-ah, just hear her out.” Jukyung broke through their staring match. Seojun could never say no to her. But he didn’t get a chance to say yes either.

Sujin simply commanded, “Follow me,” and grabbed the collar of his jacket, dragging him away.

“Ya! What are you doing?!” But Kang Sujin was stronger than she looked and Seojun found himself being pulled against his will.

The rest of them could only stare.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Suah asked, concerned.

“Nope. I’m certain they’ll kill each other.” Suho replied nonchalantly.

“My money’s on Sujin.” Taehoon and Suah said together.

“You’re on.” Suho replied.

iv.

“Are you crazy? How could you grab me like that?” Seojun smoothened the collar of his coat that Sujin had bunched up in her fist. She had let go when he had said that he would follow enough times. They walked together, Sujin going ahead of him. He quickly put on his mask. “How can a girl be so strong?” He said under his breath. Then spoke aloud, “Is this any way to treat an idol?”

Sujin suddenly turned on her heels, stopping Seojun in his tracks. She was a little too close for comfort and looked intimidated with that unfiltered anger on her face. “Just shut up and follow.”

Seojun put his hands on his hips, tilting his head. He was unimpressed by her tough attitude. He gestured forward with his chin, “Then move.”

He followed her, keeping a small distance between them. She marched forward, taking long strides with her long, long legs. She looked like a general going to war.

“She calls me a thug. She should look at herself.” He mumbled.

Sujin led them to a secluded pocha, street food vendor with small plastic seats housed inside a plastic tent. Seojun adjusted his mask.

“Relax, no one here is going to recognize you.” Sujin said, sensing his discomfort. Indeed, when Seojun looked around, all he saw were hold ahjusshis getting drunk and babbling nonsense. None of them seemed like his fans.

Still, Sujin led them in a corner table and sat where he was hidden by her. She ordered two bottles of soju and side dishes for him. He simply watched with his arms crossed.

The silence between them was awkward and heavy. Neither of them said anything. Han Seojun openly stared at Sujin. Kang Sujin looked everywhere but him. The lady brought them their order. Sujin effortlessly opened a bottle and moved to fill his glass. Seojun put his hand on top of his glass to stop her.

With a sigh, he took the bottle from her and poured for himself. She followed suit. They both took a shot.

Sujin sat up straight, shuffling in her seat. She first looked down at her hands in her lap, then looked up, straight in his eyes.

“Mianhae.” It took him by surprise. More than that, the regret on her face moved him. If only by an inch. “I’m sorry, Han Seojun. What I did back then… I was going through some personal issues, and I took it out on Jukyung. But even that is not a good enough excuse. I shouldn’t have done what I did. And even what I said to you… even after you gave me a chance to delete the video… I’m sorry.” She gulped and Seojun mirrored her. “You were right. I was only destroying myself. I should have seen that. But I have changed now. I’m not the same person. I know you’re important to Jukyung. So I hope we can get along from now on.”

Seojun took another shot. He took a minute, considering her words.

“If its forgiveness you want, then Kang Sujin, there is nothing to forgive between us. Your fight was with Jukyung. Not me.” Sujin appeared relieved till Seojun added, “However, my problem with you isn’t because of old grudges. I just can’t trust you, Kang Sujin. I believe you still will hurt Jukyung, even if you don’t mean to. And I can’t let that happen.”

Sujin’s mouth became small. She jutted her jaw, pouring another shot for herself. She downed it aggressively before responding. “I’m not the same girl anymore. I’m not in love with—”

“I keep hearing that you’ve changed. But have you really? Can you honestly tell me that you’re over him?”

“I am over him.”

“Bull shit. I saw the way you were looking Suho. All throughout dinner—”

“Aren’t you just projecting your own feelings onto me?” Sujin interrupted.

Seojun laughed incredulously, “What?”

“The one who’s not over their unrequited love is you. You’re not over Jukyung.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. All these years you’ve been pretending to be her friend. Aren’t you the one being two faced?”

“I’ve already confessed to her. We even went on a date.” Seojun crossed his arms with a smirk.

This was news to Sujin, “Aah. Is that so? Then isn’t that more pathetic? Even though she clearly doesn’t want you—”

“Ya, Kang Sujin.”

“—you’re still not over her. I too saw how you looked at her. With that pathetic puppy dog expression on your face. Don’t you think this is awkward for Jukyung? Sitting there with her boyfriend and—”

“Shut your damn mouth.”

“Wae? Don’t like it when the tables are turned on you?” Sujin and Seojun glared at each other with hatred. Seojun poured and downed a shot. Sujin swallowed and looked away. This was not how she imagined this conversation going.

“I’m not in love with her.” Seojun declared.

Sujin snorted, “Hul. Then why is it you who is giving me this lecture and not Lee Suho? If I’m really such a threat to Lim Jukyung, then shouldn’t her boyfriend be the one to confront me? What gives you the right to treat me this way?”

Seojun paused. “I can give you a million reasons; that I’m her friend, that even though I’m not her boyfriend, she stills relies on me, that I’m doing this out of humanity.”

Sujin scoffed.

“That I don’t want to lose another friend because of bullying.”

Sujin’s face fell. She licked her lips as she considered his point of view. Then, wordlessly, she poured him a drink.

“I’m not a bully. I never was. I did a shitty thing that I’ve apologized for and now I’d like to move on with my life.” She poured herself a shot of soju too. “I care about Jukyung. I will always regret what I did to her. But I still have a chance at friendship and I am going to take it whether you like it or not.”

They both took the shot. Sujin poured them another.

“We both care about Jukyung. And she would want us to get along, or at least pretend to for her sake.” Sujin gave Seojun a pointed look. The ball was in his court now.

Seojun remembered how uncomfortable Jukyung had been because of his hostility towards Sujin. True, Sujin wasn’t the kind to be trusted. Seojun was a man of action, he didn’t believe in hollow words. But it was also true that fighting with Sujin all the time would cause problems in their peaceful little group. And although he was sure that when it came to it, everyone would choose him and not her, he still held up the shot glass and said, “For Jukyung’s sake.”

The two drunken enemies staggered on the sidewalk, each supporting the other while trying not to fall; a drunk trying to steady another drunk.

“Ah-nee-ya, I’m not *hic* not in love with Jukyung. I don… I don…”

“Arassssso. And I’mf the Pwincess of England.” Sujin slurred, pushing Seojun upright as she tried to hail a taxi.

“Na ah-nee-ya. I’m not. Nope.” Seojun hiccuped.

“Ah just sstand still!” Sujin pushed his body away but his arm was still draped over her shoulder.

“Ah sshutup! Shut up you stupid Suijin!” Seojun started snickering at his own statement, “Hehehe. Stupid Suji. Sujinnie phabo.” Seojun pushed his weight onto her, still chortling.

“Ah stand still!!” Sujin wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him up. She was suddenly very aware of just how tall he was. Even with her own impressive height, he seemed too big.

A taxi finally stopped and Sujin struggled with pushing Seojun inside. She pushed him in with her legs when he bent over on the seat but refused to move further to give her room.

“Where to?” The driver asked when they both were seated.

“Han Seojun, tell him your address.”

Seojun fell to the other side, passed out. Sujin, who herself felt like passing out, leaned over to tap his face, “Han Seojun? Ya! Wake uuup.” He did not.

“Are we leaving or not?” The driver asked impatiently.

Sujin shook Seojun again. He stirred, only to mumble Jukyung’s name and pass out on her shoulder again. Sujin looked at the driver helplessly.

vi.

The first thing Seojun felt was the pounding headache, it brought him out of a very nice dream he’d been having that he promptly forgot. He could feel his legs sticking out from the side of the bed. In turning over, his elbow punched into something.

“Oof! Ow! What the hell!”

Sujin kicked at him as she pressed her ribs in pain. They both were surprised to find themselves tangled in each other. It took them exactly three seconds to start screaming.

They both flew off the bed, Sujin hitting Seojun repeatedly with her pillow.

“Ow! Ow! Ah! OW!”

“Why. Are. You. In. My. Bed?!”

“Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“This is my room asshole!”

Seojun grabbed Sujin’s wrist to keep her from hitting him. He looked around and indeed it was Sujin’s room.

“What the hell happened?” He asked.

She kicked him in the shin, “How the hell would I know? Explain yourself, Han Seojun!”

“You explain! How can I end up here if you didn’t bring me?”

Sujin’s raised foot, about to kick Seojun, slowly lowered. She was suddenly hit with the memory of last night. Drunkenly trying to enter the code to her door as Seojun whined about missing Jukyung, stumbling into her apartment and dragging Seojun by his collar to the couch, falling on top of him as he fell and then immediately picking herself up and going into her room to pass out.

Seojun put his hands on his hips defiantly, “Kang Sujin. We got drunk last night didn’t we? Aish, chincha. I never thought you’d be the kind of girl to take advantage of a guy like that.”

“Ah-ni-godun! That would never happen! I only brought you here because you wouldn’t tell me your address.”

“Ah, what a nice excuse. And whose idea was it to go drinking any way? Was this your plan all along? Of course, its understandable that you’d want a rebound with the most handsome guy around.”

Sujin scoffed in disbelief. “That’s not the case!” She protested. “And what handsome? I find you laughable.”

“And I find you detestable.”

“Then why did you come into my bedroom when I left you out on the couch?”

A flash of memory sparked in Seojun’s mind; of getting up, using Sujin’s bathroom and going into the bedroom thinking he was at Chorong’s place.

The red spreading on his cheeks was a dead giveaway to Sujin that she had him.

Seojun cleared his throat, “No matter what, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Of course, it doesn’t.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment as they wondered what to do next. They both spoke together.

“You should probably go.”

“I should leave.”

A rare agreement. They both nodded in sync.

“But… is there a back door to your apartment? I can risk having my face seen leaving a girl’s apartment.”

Sujin licked her lips as she considered this. “I think I have an idea.”

From the outside, Kang Sujin’s apartment door cracked open, just enough for two heads to poke out to check if the coast was clear. One of those heads was wearing a beanie, a mask and sunglasses. The other was Sujin. They both sneaked out of her apartment and beelined for the emergency stairs.

“Why is your apartment so up high?”

“We can always go in the elevator where my neighbors can see you.”

“I hate you.”

Finally making it out the back exit, the two relaxed.

“How are you going to get home?” She asked him.

“I’ll take the bus. Nobody will recognize me when I’m like this.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate fangirls.”

Seojun chuckled, “Never do. Bye then.”

Seojun turned, then paused, then turned back. “Kang Sujin.” He called out to her just as she was about to go in. “Thanks… for not just abandoning me last night.” It was the most difficult thank-you he had ever said.

Sujin simply nodded. “Get home safely.”

vii.

Sujin didn’t remember going back up to her apartment, just the click of the door shutting behind her that pulled her out of her daze.

She had just spent the night with Han Seojun. Admittedly, it meant nothing, but it still felt weird and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Maybe I should have asked him to eat before he went. He must have been hungry. She thought. And then scolded herself, Ah-nee, why would I care about him? He doesn’t matter to me anyway.

Traces of Han Seojun still lingered in her apartment; the bedsheet that had fallen on the floor, along with the pillow she had assaulted him with, his spicy scent on the bed and a metal ring on her bedside table that he must have taken off during the night.

Sujin held up the ring, looking through it. She would give it to him later, if they met again. She hoped they didn’t. She was already dreading the thought of encountering him again.

Kang Sujin didn’t let herself think too much about last night. She changed her sheets, showered and firmly put all thoughts of a certain idol out of her mind. He was just a silly twerp who had been a thug in high school and was now just an idol. He had nothing to do with her, nor she with him.

She had better things to do, like her work.

If you’re going to pretend to be all reformed then you shouldn’t make it too obvious. Charity work is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?

Nope, she wasn’t going to let that idiot get to her. Who was he to treat her like this? Next time she saw him, she would kick him in the face. Yes, that’s what she would do.

I keep hearing that you’ve changed. But have you really? Can you honestly tell me that you’re over him?

All day long Sujin’s hand twitched with the need to be scrubbed clean. They kept getting clammy and sticky. She wanted to scrub, scurb, scurb them of all the dirt and the grime and the filth of her past self. Sujin had believed that she had kicked this bad habit of unnecessarily cleaning her hands, but apparently she hadn’t.

My problem with you isn’t because of old grudges. I just can’t trust you, Kang Sujin. I believe you still will hurt Jukyung, even if you don’t mean to.

“Well who the hell wants your trust?” Sujin argued with the wind.

“Is everything okay?” One of the girls she worked with asked.

“What? Oh-um-yeah. Everything is fine! Just… talking to myself.” She put on a fake cheery attitude and shook her head.

It was only when Sujin’s day was finally over, and she was back in her empty apartment, leaning against her front door, that let herself feel the misery she had been suppressing.

Of course that Han Seojun hates me. What reason does he have not to?

Even the person who had been obligated to love and protect her, had only ever seen her as worthless. If her own father, couldn’t treat her with decency, then why should she expect a stranger to?

Her small apartment suddenly seemed so much bigger now. Big and empty, with shadows extending from the ground to the roof.

Kang Sujin, were you always such a piece of trash?

She hadn’t answered him back then. But in these quiet moments, she allowed herself to admit, “Yes, Han Seojun. I was always such a worthless piece of trash.”

Back when she had been a kid—running away from her problems in school, from what she had done to Jukyung—she would let this darkness take over. It would eat her inside and out till she was just a shell. However, now that he had grown up, she had learned how to deal with this on her own.

Sujin pushed herself off of the door and walked into her room, turning on all of the lights. Rest, she needed rest. And food, before anything else. Most of the time her depression would just be weakness caused by hunger. She was indeed careless with her health.

Her phone buzzed suddenly. It was a message from Jukyung. She would respond later. First she would spend time on herself. But then, almost immediately, there was a message from Suah. Then Suho. Even Taehoon. Then the phone lit up with a call from Jukyung.

“What’s going o—”

“Kang Sujin, have you seen the articles?”

“What?”

“There’s articles about you and Seojun dating.”

“WHAT?” It took Sujin a full minute to process what Jukyung was saying. She was speaking but Sujin didn’t hear the rest. Jukyung’s voice was muted from the speaker as Sujin searched through Naver for her and Seojun’s name.

“It’s all over the internet.” Jukyung was saying. “Someone’s posted pictures of you and Seojun together. Sujin-ah. Is that really you? Are you and Seojun dating?”

The room began to spin and Sujin had the urge to kick someone in the face.

“Jukyung-ah. I’ll call you back.”

What the hell happened?”

The articles Sujin found showed her and Seojun exiting her building. It was from this morning. Seojun’s face was well hidden but she could be clearly seen. From the way the pictures were taken, it looked as if the two were involved in something together.

Sujin’s phone suddenly lit up with an unknown number. She knew it could only be Han Seojun.

She pressed answer.

Some JunJin images I came up with just for fun

#junjin #Kang Sujin #Han Seojun #True Beauty #True Beauty Kdrama #Kdrama Fanfiction #True Beauty Fanfiction #Seojun x Sujin #Kang Soojin #Kang Sujin Fanfiction #Han Seojun Fanfiction #kdrama #fanfiction #park yoona #hwang inyeop

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nineteenninety-six · 4 years

Text

Escapism pt 4

This is the last piece!! :(( It was v fun to write and I loved how much love this got. Also, this was meant to be finished hours ago so lol

TAG LIST: @shadow-of-wonder @futuristicslimemongerbanana @dayna041101 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @kingarthurscat @newsieunion @stydia-4-ever @1950schick @writeroutoftime @ozzynka

WORD COUNT: 2405

[PART ONE] [PART TWO] [PART THREE]

TW: Abuse

(Y/N) and Tommy kept up the affair months and months, getting together at any large party or (Y/N) using Ada as an excuse to go over to Tommy’s London apartment. (Y/N) was having the time of her life, this was the first time in her life where she felt alive and free and she was going to make the most of it before the inevitable happens and she’ll have to stop but she and Tommy had gotten reckless. They had stopped being sneaky in the way they had their meetups and anyone who looked even a little bit closer than usual would be able to see that something was up.

(Y/N) felt as if she was living a double life, wherein one where she felt like any mistake would possibly get her killed and in the other, she was living the life she had always dreamed of. But she was still living in fear, (Y/N) was petrified of Stewart and she refused to let Tommy help her.

She was currently having dinner with Stewart and like every other meal they had together, it was silent. Stewart had been acting odd for the past week, more broody and testy but (Y/N) brushed the change off, deciding not to pay much attention to it and just attribute it to Stewart being stressed by work. (Y/N) didn’t realise how wrong she was.

She hadn’t seen Tommy in a few weeks after they decided to cut back on visits and interactions so that they didn’t arouse suspicion but she didn’t realise the damage had been done already and that at that point in time, it was too late.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Ada recently,” Stewart spoke up in the middle of dinner, surprising (Y/N).

“...Yes. We’ve gotten close, I consider her a good friend.”

“What about her brother?” Stewart was forcefully stabbing the pieces of meat on his plate and into his mouth.

“Mr Shelby?” (Y/N) felt her mouth go dry, “I haven’t seen him since the last charity dinner we went to. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been hearing rumours.” Stewart put down his cutlery and started straight at (Y/N)

Stewart’s stare was piercing and (Y/N) felt goosebumps appear on her arms. (Y/N) swallowed harshly as he stared at her, a look in his eye causing a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

“What rumours Stewart?” (Y/N) placed her own cutlery down and tried to stare back at him but found his stare too penetrating.

“About you and Thomas Shelby. Apparently, some people have seen the two of you together. Intimately.”

“Intimately?” (Y/N) scoffed, “That’s ridiculous, Stewart. Surely you don’t believe that?”

Stewart pushed his chair back and stood up and slowly stalked towards where (Y/N) was sitting on the other side of the table,

“You see, I didn’t, not at first anyway because I know you’re smarter than that but one of the maids revealed something to me recently.”

(Y/N) stood out of her own chair and took a few steps back as Stewart kept on stalking towards her.

“They told me that they haven’t noticed any blood on your sheets or clothing for the past few months and I know what that means but the funny thing is, is that we’ve never had sex.”

(Y/N) felt the stomach drop at Stewart’s words, she had been so caught up in everything that had been happening that she hadn’t noticed she hadn’t bleed in the last few months. She was pregnant and it was Tommy’s.

“I..I..” (Y/N) stumbled over her words.

“Cat caught your tongue?” Stewart sarcastically asked as he backed her up to the wall behind her, “Who is the man that fell for your whorish tricks? Was it Thomas Shelby?”

(Y/N) kept on stuttering as she tried to answer him, to try and lie about what was happening.

Stewart wrapped his hand around her throat and gently squeezed as a warning, “The number of people who’ve come up to me and told me that they’ve spotted you with Thomas Shelby...is embarrassing. You’ve embarrassed me.”

Feeling a bolt of boldness run through her, (Y/N) pushed Stewart’s hand away from her throat and defended herself, “And you’ve cheated on me hundreds of times Stewart, you have even done it right in front of my face. How’s that any different?”

Stewart growled and pressed himself closer to her and put his hand back around her throat, “You’re my wife. You do what I say and you don’t fucking embarrass me.”

He increased the pressure around her neck, squeezing to the point where (Y/N) struggled to breathe. It was only when (Y/N) grabbed at his hand in an attempt to push him off did he remove his hand and step away. (Y/N) gasped as she dropped to the floor, coughing as she landed on her knees.

“I won’t have a whore like you tarnish my reputation.” Stewart growled at her, “You’re gonna get rid of the bastard and I’ll deal with Thomas Shelby. He won’t be a problem for us anymore and we can act as if nothing happened.

(Y/N) placed her hands over her belly as if to protect the child, she wasn’t even sure she was pregnant but something in her made her do it.

“Deal with him?” (Y/N) questioned, “What do you mean?”

“Never you mind.” Stewart sniffed as he adjusted the sleeves on his shirt, “Just worry about getting rid of the bastard in you.”

“I’m not getting rid of them.” (Y/N) said, still on her knees.

“It wasn’t a suggestion (Y/N). Do it.”

“And if I don’t?”

Stewart harshly sighed before he whipped around and slapped her, he then grabbed the collar of her dress pulling her close to him.

“Do it.” Stewart threw her one last glare before leaving the dining room.

(Y/N) flinched as the front door slammed shut, she was shaken and unnerved. She shakily pushed herself onto her feet and left the dining room and headed to her room, this was her opportunity to escape and she wasn’t going to let it waste. After packing the few valuables she had along with a few clothes, she quickly left the house with her bag and whatever money she managed she acquire since she married Stewart.

After walking for about ten minutes and making sure she was far away enough from the house, she hailed a cab and made her way to Tommy’s London flat.

Tommy was surprised when he opened his door and found her outside but after a proper look at her face, he understood why she was there and opened the door wider and motioned her in. He leads her into his living room before disappearing into his kitchen without saying a word, he comes out with a cup of tea for her.

“I’m guessing he found out,” Tommy says as he sits next to her and traces over the bruises on her cheek and neck.

(Y/N) nodded, trying her hardest to not to cry, “He knows it’s you too, says he gonna ‘deal’ with you.”

Tommy snorted as he sat back on the couch and pulled her close to him, allowing her to nestle her face into his neck, “Don’t worry about him, I’ll deal with him.”

“Tommy-”

“Hey, listen to me” Tommy shifted so that they were looking into each other eyes, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother us anymore. You can be free and safe and we’ll be a family, you, me and Charlie.”

‘Family’ the word made (Y/N) shift, something that Tommy immediately caught on to.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked the question gently so that she didn’t feel pressured.

“I...I think I’m pregnant.” (Y/N) confessed after a moment of silence.

Tommy swore and rolled his eyes to the ceiling as he bit his lip in thought.

“Is it…?”

“If I’m actually pregnant, then it’s yours. You’re the only person I’ve been with.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Stewart was the one to point it out but he’s right, I haven’t had my period in a while.”

“Alright, here’s what we do.” Tommy sat up straight, “Tomorrow we’ll take you to the doctors to affirm that you’re pregnant and my brothers and I will deal with Stewart, he won’t be a problem to us anymore.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“If I don’t then you’ll never be free. If he’s gone then you are no longer chained to him.”

(Y/N) knew Tommy was right but she still had her worries, “As long as you’re not the one to do it.”

Tommy opened his mouth to protest, but (Y/N) stopped him before he could, “I know. I know you want to but I don’t want you to be caught up in the backlash if there is any because even if I’m not pregnant, you still have Charlie and I refuse to be the reason why a little boy no longer has his dad.”

Tommy nodded, Charlie had already lost his mother and the last thing he needed was to lose his father too.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” Tommy held his hand out and smiled when (Y/N) placed her hand into his. He pulled her up off the couch and towards his bedroom.

The following day was probably one of the wildest days (Y/N) had ever experienced in her life, it slotted in right beside her parents telling her that she was getting married and her wedding day to Stewart but rather than the fear and sickness she felt on those days, today she felt thrilled and jubilant. She was actually pregnant.

When she was younger, (Y/N) had always imagined having a family of her own and living a happy life and those dreams were quickly dashed when she got married to Stewart, the man had luckily no intention of having kids with her and (Y/N) accepted the fact that she’ll never have a family of her own. But now, here she was, anxiously pacing around Tommy’s flat, waiting for him to return from meeting his brothers so that she could tell him the good news.

When Tommy arrived back at the flat, he wasn’t alone, he had a seven-year-old boy who was acting like his shadow. He had the question written all over his face and when she nodded in confirmation, a large smile spread over his face.

“Charlie, I would like you to meet someone important to me. This is (Y/N).”

The little boy peeked around his father’s legs and looked at the woman who stood in front of them,

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” The boy politely greeted.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Charlie. I’ve heard so much about you.” (Y/N) softly smiled.

“From dad?” The boy asked.

“Yeah, he talks about you all the time.”

Charlie laughed as he looked up at his father before he turned back to (Y/N), “I haven’t heard anything about you.”

“I know, that’s my fault, sorry.” (Y/N)’s smile dimmed a bit, “But you can get to know me now if you want?”

“Yea?” Charlie stepped forward towards (Y/N) and away from his father as he became more comfortable, “What’s your favourite colour?”

(Y/N) grinned at Charlie’s question, his innocence and sincerity were the first normal thing she’s come across in forever and she loved it.

“My favourite colour? Hmm, it has to be pink!”

“Pink?! That’s such a girly colour!” Charlie groaned making (Y/N) laugh

“I am a girl Charlie.”

Tommy watched as (Y/N) and Charlie interacted, glad that they were getting on together so well, telling Charlie that he was going to be a big brother and that Tommy will be marrying (Y/N) might be difficult but Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to care at that moment.

Tommy had moved (Y/N) into Arrow House by the end of the week and told Charlie everything that was happening and everything was great but Tommy couldn’t let himself be fully happy until Stewart was dealt with, he needed something that would get rid of him for good, yet not arouse suspicion and after a few conversations with his brothers, he had found his solution and put it to work immediately.

He found (Y/N) in the kitchen a week later, nursing a cup of tea and passed her the mornings newspaper and watched her face closely to see her reaction,

“Stewart Langley dies in a robbery gone wrong.” (Y/N) reads the headline out, her face unreadable.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) said after she pulled him into a tight hug.

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore. It’s just, you, me, Charlie and our little one.”

(Y/N) smiled at him, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

3 YEARS LATER

“Charlie! Florence! Don’t go too far!” (Y/N) yelled as her children ran off as soon as they entered the park.

She saw her children nod before they slowed down, waiting for her and Tommy to catch up.

Three years had passed since everything happened and (Y/N) couldn’t believe how quickly time passed, her daughter’s third birthday was fast approaching and she couldn’t believe how quickly she had grown up. Charlie as well had grown a lot, looking more like Grace every day.

Florence looked like both of them but she had Tommy’s eyes and (Y/N) had moments where she would get lost in them.

Charlie was a great big brother, he was excited when they announced that (Y/N) was pregnant and when Florence was born, he was offering to (Y/N) at every moment, bringing her clothes and nappies and now that they were older, he was always helping Florence play and never leaving her behind.

(Y/N)’s dream had come true and she felt like she could cry. Everything she could have dreamed of was right in front of her.

“You alright?” Tommy brought her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah...just happy.” (Y/N) smiled at him.

“Good.” Tommy smiled at her too, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” (Y/N) pecked his lip before taking his hand and tugging him along to catch up to their children.

#tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fluff #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #Peaky Blinders #imagines #fanfic #x reader #fluff

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

To Tell You The Truth Part Nine

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Full tilt part two, the Tiltening. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi @fioccodineveautunnale @absurdthirst @cryptkeepersoul @fleetwoodmactshirt @88dragon06 @roxypeanut @walkerchick007 @peggers-n-beggers @robbinholland @chrisbostonevans @cinewhore @sarcasmisakindofmagic @phenomenaaa

(I’m hoping the tags work, but we’re getting back into the area of browser crashing D: I apologize! )

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

"I did not realize that I would cause you to swoon." Ezra's voice sounded miles away. You moaned softly, feeling a hand stroke your forehead. "Peace. Be still, gentle soul. Did I urge you on with ill-advised fervor…?"

"No way." You croaked, forcing your heavy eyes open. You could still feel your core flexing, inner walls thrumming with aftershocks. "That was incredible." You continued dazedly. "Hi. Wow."

He smiled down at you, his blatant relief warming your entire body. "So you were insensible for good reason, then. In which case, I'm enthralled." You moved to try and sit up, but Ezra shook his head. His hand trailed down over your abdomen, coming to rest on the scar from Inumon's bayonet. He simply rubbed his fingers back and forth over the skin, his eyes distant with thought. He was uncharacteristically silent and you swallowed hard, trying to muster up the courage to speak.

"It feels like it's from another lifetime." You murmured finally. His gaze snapped up to your face, perplexing you with the sheer depth of the sorrow that you glimpsed there. "The whole Green is...it seems so far away now, I guess." Uncertainty settled in the longer Ezra just stared. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing is wrong, gentle soul. I regret to inform you that I tend towards the ruminative these days. One of my many character flaws, amplified by the current safety and stability we luxuriate in." He tried to brush off your concern, but his fingers trembled where they touched you.

You carefully covered his hand with your own, lacing your fingers through his after a moment. "You're thinking so hard that I can hear it." You teased softly as you managed to scoot into an upright position.

Ezra looked away guiltily, his thumb rubbing over the back of your knuckles. He seized the glass of water that was on his nightstand (had he panicked and fetched it while you were coming back around?), passing it to you as if he was an improvisational actor buying himself time with a well-placed stage prop.

You obligingly took several sips while he collected himself, somewhat bolstered by the fact that he of all people was on uncertain footing.

"I am not a gentle man by nature," Ezra admitted finally, his voice ragged, "and I fear that in my eagerness, I may...I do not desire to harm you as you have been harmed in the past. I am not used to...I am...indelicate." He muttered, his thoughts clearly in disarray. "I'm at a loss. What do I do?"

"Can I at least see you?" You requested a bit shyly. Instead of panicky trepidation, excitement and arousal knotted in your stomach. You wanted this, you wanted to see.

"I can't refuse such an innocuous request, even if I fear the outcome." Ezra's hands moved to undo the button on his jeans, then stilled on his thighs before he could complete the task. "To be entirely candid with you, gentle soul, to...to tell you the truth, as I rarely have in my life, as one battered floater to another, I…" He paused, leaning towards you on the bed. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head slightly so he could kiss you again.

"Are you alright?" You whispered against his lips.

His exhale sounded suspiciously like a sob. "You'll have to forgive me if I seem pensive. I bandy with demons both in my mind and without."

"Ezra…" you sighed, slipping your hands up into his hair.

"I would gladly perish to keep you safe from ever being harmed again. I know that with an ugly, ironclad certainty." Ezra said quietly. "But if I am the one who causes that hurt, if I am the aggressor…you must see the dilemma that dogs my footsteps, gentle soul."

"I want this. I want you."

"And when you do not want me? A man like myself does not touch beauty for long, gentle soul. Such wondrous things have slipped through my fingers time and again." He chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. "With good reason, I will never deny. I am not a man deserving of earthly delights. I would rather I display what I promised to you. Namely, selfless ministrations, and I shall not muddy the proverbial waters with my own tepid affections."

Your heart broke at his outward nonchalance, at the acceptance in his words. He believed what he said, and that might have been the worst part of hearing him speak. You could understand why he would feel this way, for all that it made your heart sink. "Okay." You nodded, catching his wrists before he could pull away. "I get it."

He quirked a brow at you, flexing his hands pointedly in your grip. "Oh? Dare I ask what has led you to such a confident statement?"

You didn't reply, tugging his arm to drag him down to the bedspread with you. Ezra went willingly, though he was still visibly confused. You tucked him into your side and a moment after you released his hands, his warm palm slid across your stomach. You hummed low in your throat, flicking him in the arm. He halted, his forehead furrowing and hand going still. You brought your own palm to rest on his chest, fingers swirling around his right nipple. Ezra bit his lip, nervously shifting his weight as you simply drew a circle over and over again.

The motion was soothing in its repetition and you slowly, slowly felt Ezra stop thinking so much, as strange as that was to say. His shoulders relaxed, fraction by fraction, even as his cock pushed insistently against your hip through his jeans. "You don't have to believe me, at least not right away." You began lightly. "I know you're worried, and that worry is important. I'm not great with words, so I hope I'll be able to...kind of get you to understand."

Ezra nodded drowsily.

"So you're a good prospector, right? Scouting digs, working with a team, mining…" you ticked the list off on your fingers, making him chuckle.

"Survival took precedence, gentle soul. I wanted to eat, so I became a prospector. Many do. I'm not certain I follow your intellectual trail."

"You're so impatient, let me finish." You scolded, laughing when he kissed your knuckles in apology. "How good were you at actually mining, though? As in, what job did you have?"

"Before the last mutiny I was granted the illustrious position of 'dig surgeon', if that gives you any indication of my skill level." Ezra informed you, actually sounding genuinely proud. "I was responsible for the salvaging and refinin' of many different materials from a young age; took to it like a fish to water even though everyone always complained about it bein' tedious or 'grunt work'. I've always been fond of workin' with my hands, you see, for all my palavering."

"So you've harvested a lot of really important resources, yeah? Learned how to be patient? Learned when you needed delicacy?" You could almost sense the moment your point seemed to dawn on him, but you kept talking. "How many aurelac pulls have you ruined in your career? Y'know, if you had to estimate."

"Only one." Ezra answered you quietly. "My first attempt. I was unsteady with the blade. After that, I...I braced. My foreman at the time was not an individual of great charity or patience." He tapped the scar on his cheek. "He made certain I understood and felt the gravity of my mistake, naturally."

What an unhappy bit of information! Your heart broke anew for the man beside you, and you found yourself extending your hands to cradle his face once more. Ezra willingly settled his chin into your palms, but you felt him cringe hard when you pressed your lips to the scar on his cheekbone.

"It did not even hurt, per se, not in the moment. As I recall I was more startled by it than anything else. The sudden savagery, the way he lashed out at me, I...I'm afraid I am still a bit hand-shy on occasion due to that event." Ezra tried to smile. "How preposterous. You must think me quite the ferocious coward."

"Never." You replied firmly.

"So willing to accept my shortcomings! I would be more wary, were I you." The man warned, tapping the end of your nose.

"Listen, what I was trying to say is that you know how to be careful. You know when something is too important, and you know better than to risk it. You're not giving yourself enough credit."

"You are infinitely more precious to me than any mere dig pull, gentle soul." Ezra replied. "The rarest resource I've ever had fall into my hands." His fingers traced your facial features almost reverently. "I…"

"You won't hurt me. I know you won't." You took a breath. "You're not like him."

"Martyr's malfeasance," Ezra whispered, his voice rasping in his throat. The bewildered gratitude in his eyes was the same as it had been in the tent when you agreed to help save his arm, and the recollection nearly had you in tears. "I have worked in tandem with you previously, reaping dangerous rewards, writing stories and bringing you to your peak. May I...may I touch you again?"

"Again, and again, and again." You agreed with a trembling smile, your emotions running hot just beneath the surface. Ezra kissed you hungrily, rolling onto his knees and pressing your shoulders back against the mattress.

"I would love...to taste you." He breathed between nipping at your lips. "Permit me to slake my thirst on the pastoral bounty that is your body, gentle soul. Permit me to indulge my penchant for devouring."

"As much as you want." You gasped, whimpering when his mouth immediately latched onto your left breast.

Ezra nursed from you until you were writhing, pleading for him to move, his teeth gently teasing at your tormented bud. "I love you." He murmured. Your hand raked through his hair almost frantically at his words, and you bit down on your thumb to keep from sobbing out. Large hands framed your hips as he slid down your body, and Ezra cupped your thigh to encourage first your right leg, and then your left up over his shoulders.

Here it was. The moment of truth, his head bowed slightly as if in prayerful contemplation while he took in the sight of you. You barely managed to keep still, your flush comprised of equal parts arousal and embarrassment.

"My dreams pale in comparison to the beautiful reality of your form." Ezra groaned, the words a rumble in his chest. You covered your face as you felt his knuckles graze your slit, making your whole body tremble. "Kevva, the way you quake...is this alright, gentle soul?" He asked cautiously.

"M' fine, I'm just embarrassed." You admitted breathlessly.

"Why?" Ezra queried, and when you peeked at him through your fingers you saw his head cocked inquisitively to the side.

"I-I mean, everyone is about something, right?" You reasoned. "I'm not used to...um, this, that's all. It's never lasted this long."

"Ah." Ezra looked saddened, but the expression fled nearly as soon as you noticed it. "Am I...am I going too slow? Is it a drudgery?"

"What? No, gods no, Ezra you are…" You struggled to come up with the right word as you propped yourself up on your elbows, resorting to, "You're perfect," and a clumsy shrug. "You're so patient and good to me. I love you."

His expression lit up with a smile so genuine you felt tears sting your eyes, and his hand patted the outside of your thigh. "Perhaps I am bein' a bit too verbose for the bedroom." He allowed, giving you a wink. "I would love to give you a demonstration of what else my mouth can accomplish." The man inclined his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "May I?"

"Oh gods, please." You mumbled, your hands clutching the bedspread on either side of you.

You unintentionally braced yourself and he must have noticed, his fingers massaging slow, calming circles on your inner thighs to get your tense muscles to relax. "I have you, gentle soul. It's me." Ezra reminded you softly. "Keep your eyes open if you need to, put your hands in my hair if you need to. It's just me."

Hesitantly, you reached down and threaded your fingers through his shaggy hair. "Okay." You exhaled the word.

You felt his breath on your cunt and then his thumbs spread you open, the motion alone making your inner walls flex in eager anticipation. "Oh, look at you." Ezra sighed, the kiss he pressed to your clit nothing but a feather-light tease. His tongue raked over your entrance and you quivered, trying your best to keep from squirming.

Your wanton cry of delight when he finally, finally delved his tongue into your pussy made him moan in reply, and you were certain you might be gripping his hair a little too hard. The bridge of his proud nose rubbed against your clit over and over, a maddening rhythm of back and forth that had your hips twitching with every pass. His mustache was ticklish in the best possible way.

"Gentle soul, I have never savored a more divine treat than this in all my years," Ezra murmured, "never harvested a more precious resource than the lovely sounds I wring from your lips." He returned to devouring your arousal with single-minded intent, no doubt realizing that you were already wound tight.

You sobbed out his name and Ezra groaned softly, his index finger slowly tracing your entrance. The digit was thicker than your own, longer, and while nothing had hurt yet, the pressure of it stirred a momentary unpleasantness in your chest. You froze for just a second.

And Ezra noticed, his motions coming to a halt as he raised his head. "Bad?" He asked, his voice sounding almost deliberately even. "Shall I slow down, or reverse?"

"Slow down." You answered him after a moment. "I'm not...I just don't want it to hurt. It's not bad yet. I can do it." You muttered the last part, determined.

"Is it my fingers?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, not really eager to have this conversation right now, but… "Sort of? They're just...a lot bigger than mine. M' not used to it yet."

"Don't rush yourself, gentle soul." Ezra ordered, lazily reaching his hand up to splay his palm on your stomach instead. He drew his index finger in a firm line down the length of your abdomen, stopping just shy of your pubic mound before retreating back up your belly to repeat the stroke. His touch was soothingly warm, heated by the friction of his movements, and you found yourself eventually relaxing again.

The former prospector was obviously hellbent on taking his time with you, his mouth alone reducing you to a puddle beneath him. You still hadn't come but you could feel it building, building in your stomach; his tongue on you was nearly better than an actual orgasm, the wet muscle tenderly tracing arcane, forbidden designs on your throbbing cunt. You alternated between wishing he would just stop messing around and being so incredibly grateful that he was, because it afforded you the time to wrap your mind around the fact that you absolutely wanted him to fuck you.

Absolutely. You wanted him inside you, wanted him over you or under you, you wanted this, you wanted him.

You started rocking your hips without meaning to and Ezra murmured, "shall I stroke you now, gentle soul?" You felt his smile when you nodded rapidly. "I'll be just as gentle as you, if not gentler."

It didn't hurt.

It didn't hurt. Thank gods.

Ezra crooned low in his throat and that noise made you whine, his finger stroking into you careful and sweet and deep, so deep. "You take me so well, gentle soul. Shall I curl it for you, or is this sufficient?"

"Oh please-" you begged, your thighs trembling.

"A plea, my Eve offers to Lucifer! What a divine supplication. I shall indulge." Ezra muttered darkly, his brow furrowed as if in thought. His thumb applied even pressure to your clit and he proceeded to quirk his index upwards, the sensation making you struggle uncontrollably into a half-sitting position. He stared up at you, no doubt a bit startled by the speed of your motion. "...good?" He suggested tentatively after a second.

"Fuck, Ezra-" you choked out, and Ezra grinned broadly (no doubt in relief). His grin quickly turned into a groan as your fingers kneaded against his scalp like you were a contented cat, his eyes rolling back in his head briefly.

"Gentle soul, you will cause me to ruin my jeans if you keep blessing me with these delectably hearty reactions." He said shakily, stroking you faster now. "Does completion beckon as sweetly as my fingers? Are you teetering on the precipice of release once more? Has the ardent lovemaking of my tongue rendered you mute? Stand at the lectern of passion and sing your hymn to me, gentle soul." He commanded. The soft authority in his voice tingled across every inch of your naked body as he growled, "I would see you fucking drenched from the sweet toil of wanting me."

Your eyes flew open, your back arched and he lowered his mouth to you once more as you came again with a gasping cry of his name. He devoured you at leisure now, the smooth flat of his tongue soothing your sensitive clit even as it pulsed from your climax. You sobbed a breath through your teeth, raking your fingers through his hair over and over in a daze as your body quivered like it would never stop.

When Ezra withdrew his finger you couldn't stifle the pitiful noise you made, your cunt feeling achingly empty. "Want you inside me." You panted, watching him jerk unceremoniously to a halt through barely-open eyes. "Please Ezra, fuck, please, I-"

"Steady, steady." He cajoled softly, moving up over you on his hands and knees so he could press his forehead to yours. "I don't know if you really want all that right this moment, gentle soul." He swallowed hard when you shoved your hands into the back pockets of his jeans. "Gropin' me? How incredibly naughty of you, so bold!" He teased, his eyes crinkling with the spread of his grin. "Wouldn't it be better to calm you down again, though? You must be weary from your work, weary from-"

You didn't let him finish, unzipping his jeans for him. "Please." You sighed, boldly splaying a hand on his abdomen before sliding it into his pants.

Ezra rocked his hips down, the heavy arch of his cock landing squarely in your palm. "You shied away from a finger, gentle soul." He whispered pragmatically. Not judgemental, but logical. "I am...at the risk of sounding overly-confident, I am a touch larger, as you appear to be realizing with the motion of your hand." He finished, his voice cracking slightly.

He was, oh gods. He seemed huge, the stiffness and heat of his cock even through his boxers taking your breath away. Instead of fear though, you felt desire. Your fingers grazed the wet tip, traced the proud vein that pulsed down the length of him and Ezra made a wanton noise, his head hanging.

"Gentle soul, even if I can, even if I do, I regret to inform you that it...I will not last long." He gritted out, tipping your chin up so he could kiss you softly. "Why cause you grief over something that I can easily take care of just by rutting against your thigh?"

"I want to." You breathed, lifting your hands to cup his face.

Ezra met your eyes and strangely, he was the one that looked afraid. "I need you to understand what you're askin' of me." He muttered. "I hang by a delicate thread, gentle soul, and I fear that the moment I intrude into your body, I will wound and mark you with my greedy lust."

"I know you won't."

"How could you possibly know?" Ezra cried, sounding frustrated. "I myself don't even know! Martyr's malfeasance, I am made base by my longing for you. I want nothing more than to sheathe myself in your sweet, trembling cunt, I want nothing more than to hear you utter my name in primal ecstasy, but I will not be the inelegant oaf that pushes you past your breaking point to urge such sensations out of you!" He said sternly, resting his forehead on your own again.

You smiled up at him. "I know you won't. I trust you."

Ezra stared at you for a moment, his gaze turbulent. "If you hate it, I will stop." He promised finally, pressing a forlorn kiss to your palm. His facial hair tickled the skin and you giggled a little, the noise seeming to slightly ease his conscience. "Truthfully, I do not know whether you will have time to hate it." He admitted with a shaky chuckle. "I'm just barely clinging to my composure as is."

"That's okay." You tugged his jeans down over his hips so he could kick them off, his boxers soon following.

Ezra slid his hand down over your cunt, making you twitch and shudder as he gathered a mixture of your arousal and come to fist his cock. "Oh, fuck," he grunted, thrusting into his own hand. "You are so warm, gentle soul. I surmise you may burn my soul to ashes if I defile you."

He positioned himself over you, grasping your hips to raise them slightly. You covered his hands with your own, silently encouraging him to continue when he hesitated. Ezra dragged his cock over your cunt a few times, rocking his hips back and forth until he was soaked with your arousal. "Please." You begged, your body arching to meet him every time the underside of his cock blazed hot on your clit. "Please, Ezra, please--"

"Temperance." The brown-haired man said hoarsely, "temperance. I will not be a threat to you." His member ground against your pussy and slow, so slow, like he was trying to render you to nothingness out of sheer impatience, Ezra began to press into you.

A daze took you as surely as he did, your hands falling limp to the bed. The width of him stole your breath away, but even with his size...it didn't hurt.

Ezra exhaled a ragged gasp of air, glancing up from where your bodies joined. "You are weepin', gentle soul." The look in his dark eyes was jarring, one of combined terror and concern. "Is it as I feared?"

You shook your head rapidly, trying to remember how to speak. You hadn't even noticed the dampness on your face, so complete was your pleasure. "Good." You huffed out finally, going so far as to flash him a thumbs up and a smile.

His relieved moan sent a heated wave through your body. "Gods, I was so afraid I would harm you." You could feel his thighs twitching with the effort of keeping himself still. "Permit me to move?"

You nodded so hard Ezra couldn't help but laugh, the man shifting up and over you once again. His hips settled into the cradle of your pelvis and he gasped, burying his face in your neck even as he wiped the tears from your cheek.

"You grip me so tightly, it is as if you wish to tear my completion from me." He muttered, sounding almost apologetic while he covered the skin of your shoulder with kisses and soft bites. One slow, graceful thrust had you bucking against him, whimpering when he withdrew. "These delectable pleas you are makin' strain to sunder the last strands of my limited pride, gentle soul, but at the same time I...gods, I love hearing you cry out in rapture for me." He hissed through clenched teeth.

Your hands greedily raced over his back and up the nape of his neck, one seizing a handful of his hair while the other clung to his shoulder blade for dear life. "Thank you." You half-sobbed, mouthing the words on his jaw while he filled you with his cock. "Thank you, Ezra, thank you, thank you…"

"You will absolutely destroy me, gentle soul. This pussy threatens me with radiant immolation and yet like a moth to a flame, I come to you with no fear." Ezra's voice trembled, "That my sins could be forgiven so readily! I would happily spend eternity in the gentle embrace of your body."

His motions had you writhing underneath him, clinging tightly to his lithe frame as he drew taut. His member thrust deep enough to make the pit of your stomach ache sweetly. Kevva, you craved this man, craved the love he gave you with a tenacity that made your heart feel as if it would burst.

Ezra kissed your forehead, the tendons in his thick neck rising stark beneath his skin with the effort of holding everything in check. "All I can ask for is that you be charitable when you look back upon this first engagement," he choked out, laughing a little.

You smiled up at him. "Come for me, please?"

"What my gentle soul commands, my body obeys with zealous fervor." He panted, sounding a bit rueful when he added, "for better or worse." Ezra's mouth met your own hungrily, his facial hair sending sparks across your skin as he surged against you a final time.

Ezra's orgasm seemed to pull every ounce of energy from him, leaving his body quivering above you. His right arm gave way suddenly and he nearly collapsed, dropping to his elbow instead with a shaky curse. You quickly guided him down on top of you, not particularly worried about being crushed at the moment as you stroked the back of his head.

"Shh, you're okay." You soothed when you felt the skin of your shoulder grow hot and damp with tears. "You're okay. That was a hell of a workout, don't be upset." You cupped his head. "You just gave me a fucking transcendent experience Ezra, please don't be upset."

His laugh was watery, but still there. "I should have known better than to test my limitations with so much at stake, gentle soul. Nothing to blame but my own fool pride. Are you alright? Still no pain?"

"I am…" you sleepily searched for the right word. "I am somnolent." Your brow furrowed. "Right? That's the one?"

"You are pleasantly drowsy, then. Exhausted and peaceful." Ezra mumbled against your shoulder, absently tonguing the skin he found. "I have done well, if that is truly your humor at this juncture."

"Oh, you did insanely well." You assured him as you closed your eyes, nudging your chin against his sweaty curls. "Thank you."

"I believe it is myself that ought to be expressing my gratitude to you, gentle soul. This was no easy task. The amount of trust you extended to me so freely, I…I am honored." Ezra replied around a yawn. "And immensely weary."

"Can I sleep in here with you?"

He shot you a one-eyed glare from his spot at your collarbone. "Bold of you to assume I would relinquish my grip on you while I'm conscious."

Part Ten

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thegreatestofheck · 4 years

Text

Simple Melancholy pt. 1 ❣ Kelce ❣

word count - 2.7 warnings - Nothing in this chapter synopsis - Jemma “Little J” Maybank finds herself a little over her head when she accidentally falls for a boy from Figure Eight. Between her overly protective brother and Kelce��s incredibly rude friends, neither of them are sure how they’re going to make it, but they’re determined to. a/n - So, this was a request I had from someone on AO3! I’m not sure if I’ll put the entire series on here, but I wanted to at least put the first chapter! After that, if you guys want it on here, I’ll keep updating or I can just put a link to the story on AO3! Thank you all! Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay groovy!

***

Jemma spat up a mouth full of water before flopping on her back, her body shaking with hysterical laughter.

“Jemma!” A voice called from the shore. “What the hell?”

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, turning her head ever so slightly to glance over her shoulder. Running toward her was her brother, JJ, and all of his friends. Jemma sighed and flopped back against the warm sand as they neared.

“That was a sick dive, Little J,” John B said with a laugh and a smile as they slowed to a stop around her. Jemma pushed herself to her feet, her legs shaking underneath her.

“Are you okay?” Kie asked, putting hands on her friend’s arms in an attempt to steady her. Jemma’s grin never once wobbled.

“Never better,” Jemma reassured her.

“What the hell?” JJ asked again, shoving his sister backward and away from Kie. She laughed and brushed wet hair out of her face.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, J?” Jemma laughed. “It’s just cliff diving.”

“I told you never to go without someone there to watch you,” JJ said, grabbing Jemma by her arm.

“Jeez.” Jemma pulled her arm away, smile dropping and a scowl forming on her face. “I was just having some fun before you guys got here. Is that a crime?”

“Jemma-”

“God, JJ, just let me breathe for once.”

Jemma wrapped her arms around her stomach and pushed past him, knocking into his shoulder as she stormed off.

“Little J, wait!” Kie called after her, but Jemma didn’t turn back around.

“She’s right, bro,” Jemma heard Pope say. “You are really tough on her.”

“She does stupid shit.”

“You do stupid shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” JJ snapped. “But I don’t want her to be me. I want her to be better.”

Jemma rolled her eyes as she walked toward her car. She heard the speech before. ‘Be better, Jemma’, ‘Do better, Jemma’, ‘What would Mom have wanted, Jemma?’ Frankly, she was sick of it. She just wanted to be Jemma, and not have all the other stuff tacked on with it.

Being a Maybank wasn’t easy. It never had been. Mom died, Dad was an asshole, JJ wanted to keep her in a box, and everyone else already had a picture painted of her that she was some lowlife daughter of a mechanic who wasn’t going anywhere in life.

Even as she shoved her front door open, Jemma was still fuming. Dripping wet and angry head to toe, she made her way to the back of the house where her room was. She wrapped her hair in a towel before changing and flopping onto her bed. She sat there, wallowing in her irritation with her face against her pillow until there was a ding on the family computer.

Jemma was the only one who ever really used it for anything other than porn and Instagram, so she knew it was for her. Rolling out of bed with a groan, she shuffled over to Luke’s room. She plopped herself down at the computer and opened the email browser.

As she read the email, a smile started to spread across her face.

There were two ways that Jemma could get a job. The first; dress like a skank and smile at old, rich men until they threw money at her for some meager task. The second; lie about where she lived and who her dad was for a good first impression. She had tried to get a decent job going the official route, but no one wanted her. And she was tired of having men peering down her shirt or at her ass while she worked.

A few weeks ago, Jemma had put up an add as a tutor. Believe it or not, she was smarter than she let on. Her grades weren’t perfect by a long shot, but that was because she didn’t really turn in assignments. She aced almost every test and essay that a teacher could drop down in front of her. When Jemma was younger, it was a source of pride to both of her parents (and a reason for JJ to pick fun at her). But now her dad didn’t care and her mom was gone, so she saw no reason to keep her grades up.

However, Pope told her that it was a great asset to have, that most of the kids on this island were lacking in their grades. And he knew a couple of kids with parents who would pay big bucks to get A’s on report cards. So, Jemma offered her services. She promised to keep it on the down low, no one else would have to know. As long as she got paid, she wouldn’t say a word to anyone.

And today was the first response to her ad. Jemma’s smile pulled wider.

***

“Will you help me out with this?” JJ asked, trying to push something in the backyard.

“Sorry,” Jemma said as she blew against her fingernails. “Can’t. Just did my nails.”

JJ dropped the metal object, whatever it was, and looked up at his sister with narrowed eyes. He squinted against the sunlight, putting his hands on his hips.

“Since when did you care about your nails?” He asked. Jemma shrugging, continuing to blow against her nails.

“Since now.”

JJ dropped his hands and walked inside with a huff. Jemma let out a sigh, knowing full well that she would have to follow him. He could be like a pouty child when he wanted to be, especially when he was upset with her. Jemma pushed herself out of her chair and followed after her brother.

“What?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“You’re wasting your money on nail polish?” JJ asked, turning around to face her. Jemma was taken aback, a scowl settling onto her face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

Jemma let out a bitter laugh.

“Wasting my money? What, like how you spend all of yours on booze and weed?” JJ scowled at her. “I bought $2 nail polish from the General Store, JJ. Where’s the crime in that?”

“What do you need nail polish for anyway?” JJ asked. Jemma’s scowl dropped and she leaned back against the wall, looking to the floor. It didn’t matter how much Jemma and JJ fought, they had a rule. Never lie to each other, no matter how small it seemed, they never lied. So, Jemma couldn’t just tell him that she wanted to buy to nail polish to look pretty because he would know she wasn’t telling the truth.

“I have my first tutoring gig later today,” she said, refusing to look up at him. “I wanted...I wanted to look nice. The family doesn’t know I’m from the cut.”

JJ’s face softened as he let out a sigh.

“I didn’t know-”

“No, you didn’t. Maybe next time you won’t get on my ass about two dollars worth of nail polish.” Jemma turned around and started for her room.

“Jemma, wait.” JJ followed after her, grabbing her by the wrist. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have been on your ass and I’m sorry. You’re going to do a great job today.”

Jemma nodded her head slowly.

“Thanks, J.” He let go of her wrist. “I have to finish getting ready.”

***

Jemma let out a heavy sigh as she stepped up to the front door. She’d been on Figure Eight before, stood on the doorstep of a Kook house. But it had always been with someone she trusted, going into Kie’s house usually or helping Pope run deliveries. Now she was alone and she had no idea whether or not she could trust them.

Knocking on the door, Jemma plastered a smile on her face. Her smile fell instantly as soon as the door was opened.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jemma resisted the urge to roll her eyes when she saw Kelce standing in the doorway. From the look on his face, she could tell he felt the same way.

“You’re the tutor my parents hired?” He asked, accusation heavy in his voice.

“Apparently. Um, where are they? I’d like to talk to them,” Jemma said, forcing a smile back onto her lips.

“They’re not here.” Kelce crossed his arms. Jemma sighed and rubbed a headache out of her forehead with her fingers.

“Can I come in?”

Kelce narrowed his eyes.

“Your brother beat me up last Friday at that kegger on the Boneyard,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. Jemma lifted her shoulders, pressing her lips into a thin line.

“What my brother does is none of my business.”

“You were there. You laughed.”

“I guess it was funny then.” When Kelce didn’t laugh or even smile, Jemma let out a sigh and pinched her eyes together. “Look, your parents already paid me. Can I come in or not?”

Jemma watched as Kelce’s eyes dropped to scan her body with his eyes. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Don’t want to waste my loving parents’ charity money, do I?” Kelce gave Jemma a sarcastic smile. Jemma reciprocated it and pushed past him into the house. “You clean up good, Maybank.”

“That’s why you’re failing English, Kelce,” Jemma said, admiring the cleanness of his house. “I clean up well, not good.”

Kelce’s smirk dropped and he shut the door, slamming it a little harder than it needed.

“How the hell did you manage to be a tutor?” Kelce asked, walking past Jemma and sitting at the island. He had a bowl of cereal in front of him, but he pushed it away toward the sink.

“However little you think of me, Kelce,” Jemma said. “My grades are better than yours and that’s all that matters. Should we get to studying?”

“I think I want to get to know my tutor a little bit better,” Kelce said, looking her up and down again. Jemma glared at him.

“I know you know my brother and believe me when I tell you this-” Jemma slid into a chair beside Kelce. “If he doesn’t kill you, I will.”

Kelce watched her for a few moments before laughing.

“Your brother’s a real son of a bitch, you know.” Kelce pointed a spoon at her. “But you’re not half bad.”

“My brother and I are almost exactly the same,” Jemma told him, trying not to take offense at the comment about her brother. If she fought every person who talked bad about him, she’d spend all of her time fighting the entire island. “Only reason you like me any better is because I haven’t punched you in the face yet.”

Kelce stood and walked over to the fridge. He pulled out two beers and offered one to Jemma, which she took gratefully.

“Rafe’s told me all about your uppercut,” Kelce said as he popped open his beer. Jemma shrugged.

“What can I say? My daddy taught me well.”

She laughed as Kelce choked on his beer.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll go grab my homework,” Kelce said. Jemma popped open her beer and took a long swig. She waited at the island until Kelce came back with his backpack. Kicking off the kitten heels that Kie had lent her, Jemma turned toward Kelce as he plopped his bag onto the countertop.

“I’ve got two overdue essays that I have to turn in by the end of this week,” he said, not sitting back down. “And a math test on Thursday. You get those done and I’ll maybe tell my parents you weren’t a complete waste of their money.”

Jemma watched at him with a look of disbelief, her lips parted ever so slightly.

“Um, no,” she said, grabbing hold of his wrist before he could walk away. “I’m not here to do your homework for you. I’m here to help you do your homework yourself.”

Kelce looked down at her hand as if she was actively giving him the plague.

“I could just call the police and get you booted out of here if that’s what you want,” he said. Jemma let his wrist go and sat up straighter, tension building in her jaw.

“Here I thought you weren’t the conceited prick everyone says you are,” Jemma said. She stood from the stool, shoving her feet back into the too small heels.

“And by everyone, you mean your psycho brother and his band of misfit toys, right?”

She hadn’t meant to shove him backward, but it came out of her so quickly she couldn’t help it. He almost looked insulted.

“Fail your English class for all I care, Kelce,” she seethed, plucking her beer off of the counter. “Flunk that math test and then go crying to Mommy and Daddy about it. But don’t talk bad about my brother and think that will get you anywhere.”

“Jemma, I’m sorry,” he tried as she made for the door. “I shouldn’t have said that-”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” She side stepped him before he could grab her wrist and keep her from leaving. “But you did. So, I’m leaving.”

She threw the door open, ready to go home and take a long shower.

“Wait!” There was desperation in Kelce’s voice. Against her better judgment, she actually froze where she was. With her hand still on the doorknob, Jemma turned her head partially, just so she could barely see him standing there in the corner of her eyes. “I need to pass these classes. I can’t do it by myself.”

Jemma tilted her head even farther and flicked her ear to tell him that there was something else she still wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry I called your brother a son of a bitch and a psycho,” Kecle said with a heavy sigh. “But I need your help.”

Jemma whirled around, placing a smile back on her face. She shut the door and set her beer on the counter.

“Great! Well, there’s gonna have to be a few rules around here,” she said, walking toward him and flicking the heels off once again. “First, we don’t talk about my brother. This is a brother free zone, got it?”

“Fine by me,” Kelce agreed, watching her carefully as she got closer.

“Second, I will not be doing a single assignment for you. Everything is done by your own hand. I won’t even pick up a pencil.”

“Fine.” Kelce’s voice tightened when she stopped just inches away from him. She crossed her arms slowly.

“Lastly, whatever happens in this house, stays in this house. I don’t need people on my side of the island knowing that I’m helping a Kook out and I heavily doubt you want any of your friends knowing that JJ Maybank’s little sister is helping you pass your classes. Agreed?”

She offered out her hand for him to shake. He took it.

“Agreed.”

“Good. Let’s get to work.”

Jemma sat back down in her chair, spinning it back and forth. She didn’t have any of those swivel chairs at home and she liked the way it moved. It was going to be a blast working here as long as she got to sit in one of these all the time.

“Two follow up questions,” Kelce said slowly as he made his way into his own seat. “You’re younger than JJ by how much?”

“I thought we agreed on not talking about my brother?”

“Well, I’m asking about you, technically.”

Jemma thought about it for a moment, chewing on her lip. She supposed he was right.

“We’re twins actually, but he acts like an annoyingly protective big brother so everyone just assumes he’s older, but I was born first.”

“Interesting.” Kelce took a drink of his beer. “And when you say what happens in this house stays in this house, that means anything could happen, right?”

Jemma felt herself smiling despite herself. She knew precisely what he had been implying. She was sure he had been thinking about it since his parents told him he was getting a tutor. If she had a guy come into her house to tutor her, she would be all over him in seconds. But this was strictly professional.

“No, Kelce, that doesn’t mean anything could happen,” she told him, giving his hand a little pat. “Let’s start on those essays, yeah?”

94 notes · View notes

mkw-raider · 4 years

Text

Rescue

Pairing: Marinette/Chloé

AO3

One early spring evening, Chloé Bourgeois stood as far away from a party full of older, rich people she didn’t actually know, trying to remember why she had told her father she would be in attendance, especially since he had disappeared earlier in the night to attend to ‘business’. Of course, the Hotel De Ville was decorated beautifully for the charity ball her father was hosting, and the food was phenomenal as usual, but Chloé hadn’t attended an event here since Hawkmoth had started terrorizing Paris. She had too many memories of being attacked here, by akumas either trying to get to the mayor or she was just caught in the crosshairs, and there were too many memories of her father being the target and the Akumas that had come to get him while he had been working. She was definitely having a ball.

Glaring briefly at the wine glass she had been nursing the entire night, and downed the rest to shove the bad memories away. She had grown since then. If there was an Akuma, she could handle herself and Ladybug would make sure her father was safe.

Trying to avoid gaining the attention of groups of men vying for her time so she could give a good word to her father, Chloé began moving through the room, looking for anything to keep her interest. There were a lot of people that had decided to attend in what Chloé could only call their worst attempt at dressing themselves, and had any of her friends been here, Chloé might have been tempted to spend longer than a few seconds judging the worst offenses, but she was alone. Adrien had not been allowed to come to events held outside of the arrondissement where he lived since his mother had died, unless Gabriel or Nathalie came with him, and both adults had refused Chloé’s best persuading. Sabrina, unfortunately, was completing a physics assignment with her group and hadn’t let Chloé pay a professional to do it so she could skip the homework. Marinette had just laughed and told Chloé that rich and fancy charity events weren’t exactly her forte, and then kissed her and told her she also had some other business to attend to. Chloé knew that meant patrol and therefore she couldn’t be mad. It still sucked though, she had wanted to hold her girlfriend’s hand and sway to whatever music her father had selected as background noise for the event.

Lost in thought, Chloé nearly walked headfirst into a young man. Taking him in, he looked to be around her age, and if she took off her heels, she would only be a few centimetres taller than him at most. He seemed fit, with short cropped brown hair, green eyes, and an easygoing smile. If Chloé weren’t a lesbian, she might call him somewhat attractive, but as it stands she just saw him as an obstacle in her way.

“Excuse me.” Chloé said, beginning to move around him. Marinette’s voice flashing through Chloé’s mind as she began turning out of his arm, she internally grimaced and threw out a quick, “Sorry.”

Unnamed Stranger, slid his hand from her upper arm to grasp her wrist and pull her back towards him. “Don’t go yet, let’s get to know each other.”

There were many different ways Chloé was thinking of to tell him to unhand her and leave her alone, but before she could use any of her choice insults, he took the empty wine glass from her hand. Unnamed Stranger put her glass on the closest table before grabbing her wrist again to pull her towards a slightly more open area to lead Chloé in a slow dance. It was a step up from the awkward swaying of her youth, but his grip on her was too tight and his movements were not refined enough to really be considered a waltz. Opening her mouth to tear into him, Unnamed Stranger cut her off before she could even try.

“You looked lovely tonight, so different to the bland dresses the other girls were wearing and I knew I had to come offer a dance.”

At least Unnamed Stranger had eyes, but Chloé didn’t need his compliments. She was wearing a Dupain-Cheng original. It was a deep blue, almost black, but as it caught the light, Marinette’s handiwork was revealed as the constellations and stars she had sewn in glimmered.

“My father always taught me not to let pretty girls spend their nights alone.”

Chloé would prefer to be completely alone rather than swung clumsily around the floor.

“Now we’re definitely the best dressed couple here.”

Much-Too-Confident Stranger definitely was not the reason they were the best dressed couple. Not only were they not a couple, but his suit was not up to Chloé’s standards. At first glance, his suit could pass for something fitted, but with the up close view Chloé had been awarded, she could see his suit jacket hung slightly too large on his frame, and his jacket cuffs completely came down past his sleeves. The entire outfit seemed a few years older than she would expect from the kind of people that come to these charity balls.

“Maybe later, we can get out of here. We can talk business, or I can show you a good time. Your choice, of course.”

Gone-Too-Far Stranger was incredibly close to being hit. Instead of causing a dramatic scene, even though Chloé really wanted to, she just lifted her heel and stomped on Rude Stranger’s foot.

Maybe it was harder than she had intended, as her dance partner nearly leapt away from her. He thankfully released his death grip on Chloé’s hand and waist as he lowered both of his arms to cradle his foot. She tried to hide her grin behind a hand as she attempted to feign sincerity, “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. I’m just so clumsy when it comes to dancing.”

Walking quickly backwards, Chloé ignored Rude Stranger’s attempts to call her back and openly let herself smile. Marinette might consider her actions a little much, but Chloé definitely thought they were more than appropriate.

Snaking her way through groups of people, Chloé spied a waiter carrying another tray of wine and made her way to grab a glass. She would need more than the one glass her father allowed her after dealing with the stranger. Honestly, who just forces someone to dance without even telling them your name. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Chloé was beginning to wonder why she had let her father give her driver the night off so they could arrive and leave together.

Reaching into the pocket Marinette had sewed for her, Chloé pulled out her phone to quickly send a text to her girlfriend. ‘Wish you were here, Blueberry. You would have made this much more bearable.’ A response probably wasn’t coming anytime soon, Chloé knew Marinette took her patrol nights seriously and tried to be out for at least a few hours so the city knew she was there. That didn’t mean Chloé couldn’t keep sporadically sending her complaints until she gets a response. By the time the party winds down enough for her father to let her leave, Marinette would most likely be done with patrol and home meaning they could call and Chloé’s night would take a positive turn. The positive turn could definitely happen earlier if her father would let her leave without him though.

Speaking of her father, she could see the Mayor close to the entrance of the room. Chloé couldn’t tell from the crowd if her father was alone, but he wasn’t surrounded by the normal crowd trying to bargain for political favour, so she figured now was the best time to convince or beg her father to have an early night. As she got closer, Chloé could see that her father was not, in fact alone. Standing next to him, was a man Chloé was positive she had never seen before, but for some reason seemed familiar. Chloé almost turned around to go hide in the corner or a hallway away from the party for the rest of the night except, her father turned and noticed her before she could make her escape. A large smile spread across his face and he beckoned Chloé forward with a two finger wave, leaving her no choice but to finish making her way over.

“My darling angel! Allow me to introduce you to M. Durand, an old friend. Pierre, I’m sure you remember my beautiful daughter, Chloé.”

M. Durand offered his hand. “Of course, of course. Though last time I saw you, you were much younger. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.” The smile he offered Chloé did not make her feel more comfortable. Sliding her hand into his, she fought the feeling of unease that rose within her when he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it for longer than she felt was necessary.

Chloé had to actively fight down the part of her that wanted to cause a scene and escape the party, the mayor’s daughter could handle a little discomfort provided by strange men she barely knew, so she plastered on a fake smile and played her part of the beautiful politician’s daughter and thanked the man before standing by her father and saying nothing. Perhaps playing her part too well, Chloé spent the next few minutes fading in and out of the conversation until her father’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present.

M. Durand was looking towards the surrounding party, arm raised towards something Chloé couldn’t quite see, “-here he is now.” She tried to make sense of whatever sentence she hadn’t been paying attention to, but everything made more sense when she saw the ‘he’ that had been referred to.

Strolling towards their little group was Unnamed Stranger. Same easygoing smile in place, same shoddy suit, same uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of Chloé’s stomach.

Unnamed Stranger stood next to M. Durand as the older man beamed and lowered his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “André, I’m sure you remember my pride and joy, Audric. He’s just finished with his schooling in England, and he’s come back to reacquaint himself with the politics in Paris.”

“I remember. He’s around Chloé’s age, isn’t he? I’m sure Chloé would be happy to help your son get reacquainted with everything here.” Her father’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and when she glanced at him, he waggled his eyebrows at her before glancing between Audric and herself.

Audric smirked at her, “We actually met earlier. Chloé allowed me the honour of sharing a dance with her.”

Chloé was going to scream. Audric kept looking at her and smiling, her father’s arm was preventing her from leaving, and it seemed like M. Durand was slowly nudging his son closer to her.

The two adults immediately started discussing increasing M. Durand’s involvement with her father’s political campaign, while Audric chimed in to mention how the two oldest children getting closer would be good press before smiling at Chloé again. Which, oh. Okay. Chloé knew where this was going now. Knew why her father was introducing her to M. Durand and his son. She knew why Audric had decided to dance with her, and why her father was trying to keep her here talking to him.

She knew her father hadn’t quite accepted her relationship with Mari so she wasn’t entirely surprised he was talking to his friends about matching her up with their sons. She would play his game, but she wouldn’t lie about the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. The smile on her face was sugar sweet as she said, “I’d love to get to know Audric further. My girlfriend and I could show you around the city and introduce you to some people we know.”

The Durand’s paused, both looked taken aback. Chloé took a moment to savour their surprise. Her father had a strained smile but his grip had loosened enough for Chloé to turn out of his grasp. “I’d love to stay and discuss further, but I have some business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

Turning away from the men, Chloé wandered off into the crowd and pulled out her phone. Notifications from Adrien and Sabrina flashed on her screen, but nothing from Marinette. ‘My father still doesn’t accept that we’re together. His new plan seems to be setting me up with his influential friend’s sons. Really wishing I stayed home waiting for you to visit me.’ At least if Marinette were here Chloé wouldn’t feel so alone.

Putting her phone away, Chloé saw a young teen waving her over. It was a group that used to hang around Chloé when she was younger and came to these charity events more frequently. The conversation was more likely to be gossip and fake compliments, but at this point anything was better than standing alone in a corner waiting for this to be over and avoiding Audric. So Chloé resigned herself to joining the girls.

----

Twenty minutes later, Chloé was bored. She had been discreetly checking her phone and Marinette still hadn’t responded. She could see her father out of the corner in a group of men in the middle of the room so leaving still wasn’t an option. At this point she had been ignoring the girl’s conversation, focusing on how to excuse herself from them and make her way out of the rest of the party without drawing attention to herself. If no one noticed her leaving, she could probably go hide in her father’s office until everything started wrapping up. Or she could just walk home. Her father would be furious once he figures out she left, but she knows she’d be safe. If she decided to leave, she would just text Mari that she was walking home and Ladybug would get her before she even got halfway so long as there wasn’t an akuma.

In her focus on ignoring everything around her, Chloé missed her companions' conversation cease. The sudden lack of noise from the rest of the party though, definitely caught her attention. The group of girls she was standing with were looking behind Chloé, mouths agape.

Turning brought Chloé face to face with her girlfriend. Except instead of Marinette, Chloé was looking at Ladybug, with a very determined expression. Most of the partygoers had stopped to focus on the hero’s arrival, and even Chloé had to admit she was confused.

“Apologies Madame Bourgeois, there’s an akuma looking for you. I’ve come to take you somewhere safe.” Ladybug half-turned away from Chloé to address the crowd, “The akuma hasn’t expressed interest in anything else, you will all be safe here. Feel free to carry on, Chat Noir and I will handle this quickly.”

Confused, Chloé allowed Ladybug to place a hand on the small of her back and begin leading her out. While moving towards the entrance of the hall, Chloé managed to spot her father’s worried face and send him a reassuring smile. Ladybug led Chloé through groups of people out into the hallway, marching forward at a quick pace.

Usually, if Marinette ran into Chloé during an akuma attack, she would tell Chloé what was happening, telling her if there was anywhere she should avoid or anyone she should look out for. Ladybug tried to speak to people she knew outside of the mask as little as possible to prevent anyone else from discovering her identity, but Chloé was still normally an exception to that rule.

“Ladybug?” Chloé questioned.

Ladybug barely glanced down, just continued navigating through the hallway and between the few partygoers near them. “I’ve got to get you away from all these people and somewhere Chat and I can protect you.”

A serious Ladybug was something Chloé was used to. So Chloé would keep her relief and questions to herself, let her girlfriend do her job, and then when this was all over hopefully have Mari drop her off at home instead of bringing her back to the party.

Stepping outside, Ladybug slid her arm around Chloé’s waist, gave her a soft smile, and threw her yoyo to the nearest building. Once safely on the roof, Ladybug moved from holding Chloé around the waist, to looping her arm under Chloé’s legs to carry her bridal style as she started to run and leap across the rooftops.

Taking the time to wrap her arms around Marinette’s neck, Chloé sank deeper into her girlfriends hold, ignored the buildings passing by, and focused on the feeling of Marinette’s hold. Despite the exertion of jumping across the roofs of Paris, Marinette’s breathing never changed from the steady rise and fall Chloé was accustomed to.

Ladybug shifted her hold on Chloé, moving to maintain the bridal carry with one arm before the other shot out to pull the duo into a sudden weightlessness only achieved by swinging through Paris. Chloé peered around her girlfriend to watch the Eiffel Tower twinkle as they swung by.

A few minutes more of swinging through Paris led to Ladybug landing on Chloé’s balcony at Le Grand Paris. Placing Chloé down, Marinette looped their fingers together before tugging Chloé towards a small basket surrounded by candles.

The basket was resting on a few blankets closer to the edge of the balcony to give a better view of the surrounding area. The blankets and surrounding area were bathed in a soft orange light, and Chloé could hear soft music drifting from inside.

Turning towards her girlfriend, Chloé was at a loss for words. “Mar-Ladybug, what?” As sweet as the whole gesture was, Chloé didn’t know if a rooftop picnic date was the safest thing to be doing during an akuma attack.

Chloé watched Marinette as she released her hand and bent towards the basket. Opening the box, Marinette began pulling out Tom and Sabine pastries, including a few of the lemon squares Chloé adores. Marinette continued pulling out snacks, until she grabbed a small bag of chocolate chip cookies and transformed. Chloé averted her eyes from the bright pink light that engulfed her girlfriend only to turn back to watch Tikki dive into the cookies and see her girlfriend giving her a sheepish smile.

“I lied. There was no akuma.”

Plopping down beside her girlfriend, Chloé gave Marinette a once over, “You lied?”

“I finished patrol early and then I saw all of your texts. It seemed like you were having a pretty bad night and I thought maybe you could use a rescue.” Leaning forward, Marinette handed Chloé and lemon square and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

Chloé lifted her treat to her mouth to hide her blushing face. Her attempts to hide became unnecessary when Marinette lowered her head onto Chloé’s shoulder.

----

The two girls spent a while enjoying each other’s company, and slowly eating their way through the snacks Marinette had brought. Occasionally a quiet conversation would spark, but for most of their time together, Marinette and Chloé sat in quiet comfort, content to sit in the same space brushing fingers over hands and leaning into the other’s space.

Marinette had just finished another cookie when she saw the time on her phone. Shortly past midnight, but later than either had intended to be out. Jumping up, Marinette transformed. Heading towards the railing, Marinette stopped, paused, and turned around before leaning down to kiss Chloé softly on the lips. Leaning back, a gentle smile spread across Marinette’s face and she began heading towards the balcony again.

Chloé jumped up to follow her girlfriend before she could leave. Grabbing Marinette’s wrist, Chloé pulled the shorter girl into a deeper kiss. Face aflame, Chloé pulled back and rested her forehead against the other girl’s, “I love you.”

What can only be described as a dopey smile took over Marinette’s face, “I love you, too.” With that, Marinette threw herself backwards off the balcony, catching her yoyo on the closest building and swinging herself up releasing a ridiculous ‘whoop’ as she did so. Chloé leant on the railing watching her girlfriend swing away into the night, thankful she was with someone thoughtful, and willing to rescue her from parties she didn’t want to attend.

#chlobug #chloe bourgeois #marinette dupain cheng #mlb #miraculous ladybug #chlonette

20 notes · View notes

nureyevapologist · 4 years

Text

with every christmas card i write

a little late because of who i am as a person but here is my @aftgexchange gift for @foxeshaveclaws !! they asked for andreil, the foxes as adults and Allison, so i hope i delivered!!

Snow crunches soft beneath the wheels of Neil’s rental car and he thinks, not for the first time, that Allison’s house is the loveliest thing he’s ever seen. He had never considered himself the kind of person to have architectural preferences, especially as someone who had lived in more abandoned buildings than he could count on two hands, but Allison and Renee’s quaint little cottage made him feel warm every time he saw it. It was all one level, three bedrooms and a big open space connecting the lounge and the kitchen. The garden stretched out for what seemed to be miles, little vegetable patches that were tucked up for the winter and a scattering of vintage furniture, a homey chicken coop in the far corner. A far cry from Neil and Andrew’s modern, cosy apartment, but the perfect setting for their yearly Christmas rendezvous.

Judging by the crowd of cars outside, Neil is the last of the Foxes to arrive; he sees Matt’s truck, and Aaron’s practical family car, a rental that must belong to Nicky and Erik and another that he can only assume is Kevin’s. Andrew, Neil knows, is halfway through a flight at this very moment – scheduling conflicts had meant they’d been apart for a good few weeks, with Andrew’s professional team on a convoluted press tour while Neil’s season had finished for the year, and Neil would be lying if he said he wasn’t missing his boyfriend sorely. Still, a few more hours and Neil’s heart would be back where it belonged.

The familiar silhouettes of his Foxes, his family, flitting around beyond the curved bay window fills Neil with warmth, as he ambles up the cobblestone path with an armful of gift bags and a smile he’s settled into like a comfy sweater. Neil of seven years ago could never have envisioned this kind of Hallmark card life, the pretty green wreath on the front door of the Reynolds-Walker cottage and the welcome mat he knows almost as well as his own.

Allison flings the door open before Neil has even really grazed his knuckles against the wood, wrapping him in a hug that smells like mulled wine and feels like family. “Look who finally showed!”

“Sorry,” Neil says against her shoulder, “I’m late because of who I am as a person”

It startles a laugh out of her, softer and more free than anything Neil remembers from their college days, and she herds him into the lounge where he’s bundled into more hugs than he even really knows what to do with.

“We’re not doing gifts until Andrew is here,” Aaron says, once Neil is settled into the sofa with a cup of coffee. “So we need you to settle the vote”

“We’re split four-for-four,” Matt adds, from beside Neil. “Renee is refusing to weigh in on diplomatic grounds, but half of us wanna watch bad Christmas movies and the other half want to watch the Vipers’ game”

Neil shoots a sidelong glance at Kevin, who raises one brow from where he’s been scrolling through his phone. “I voted Christmas movies, so shut up”

Neil hides a grin behind his mug. “I didn’t say a word”

“Your face did”

He kicks out at Kevin’s hip where he’s sitting cross-legged by the fire, and Kevin yanks at his ankle in protest. It feels familiar, when Dan huffs out a laugh and Aaron rolls his eyes, when Nicky throws a mini marshmallow from his cocoa into the mix. Neil hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this; it was rare for them to all be in the same place at once, these days. Neither Aaron nor Katelyn got much time out of medical school; Matt, Dan, Allison and Kevin were all alongside Neil in the hectic world of professional Exy; Nicky and Erik were in Germany, and Renee was in the process of forming her own not-for-profit charity. It felt like something integral clicked into place when they were all together, and Neil couldn’t stop smiling even if he wanted to.

“Christmas movies,” he says, folding his legs beneath himself. “I see enough Exy as it is”

“Thank you,” Allison says, as Matt, Dan, Aaron and Erik all make noises of complaint. “Honey, do your very worst”

Renee makes a face. “They’re not bad movies, Allison”

Affecting a snobbish voice, Allison lifts her wine glass in the air; “Oh, I’m a very busy businesswoman, and I hate Christmas, and I’m so very single. But what’s this? I’m visiting my hometown? And my childhood best friend works at the Christmas tree farm? And he has a six pack now?”

Renee is trying very, very hard not to smile at Allison’s impression, and Katelyn is laughing freely where she’s tucked against Aaron’s side.

“Don’t forget he’s a single dad, too. That’s a crucial plot point”

“Et tu, Erik?” asks Renee, popping the disc into the player, and the room dissolves into giggles. It reminds Neil of away games back in college, all of them crammed into one motel room at one in the morning, trying not to wake Wymack with their antics.

Neil’s Christmas movie knowledge is pretty limited, but Allison’s impression had been pretty spot on, he decides, only fifteen minutes in. As the uptight businesswoman tears down a strip of tinsel someone had tacked to her office wall, Neil’s eyes begin to slip closed. It isn’t boring, per se, but he had driven all the way here, and he’s sandwiched comfortably between Matt and Nicky, a crocheted blanket draped over his lap while the fireplace burned away on the far wall. All of the main lights had been switched off in favour of the glow from the Christmas tree, and Matt’s shoulder was a warm, welcome presence beneath Neil’s cheek.

If he just closes his eyes, for a little moment…

Laughter is what finally wakes him.

Soft, rumbling, shaking the pillow beneath him.

No, not a pillow, he remembers. Matt’s shoulder.

“This is what I have to live with,” says a voice, familiar, warm, home.

“What you choose to live with,” Aaron corrects, smile dancing around his voice, and the sleep evaporates from Neil in an instant as his brain catches up with itself.

Andrew is standing a few feet from the sofa, arms folded across his chest, a tiny smile playing at his mouth. His hair is ridiculously mussed from where it’s clearly been hidden by a woollen hat and he’s wearing a chunky sweater, the kind Renee often knits for him and one she’d likely thrust upon him the second he entered.

“Andrew,” Neil says, scrambling to stand and nearly braining himself on the coffee table when his legs don’t quite get the message in time. Matt makes a soft, fond noise beside him and Allison laughs, but Neil can only focus on Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.

“Oh,” says Andrew, warm beneath Neil’s fingers as he’s folded into a long-awaited embrace, “decided to join us, have you?”

“Shut up,” Neil tells him, face tucked safely into the crook of Andrew’s neck. Then, quieter, “I missed you”

“Seems like it, sleeping beauty”

Neil grumbles. Andrew’s arms come around his back and he ghosts a secretive kiss to the bend of Neil’s jaw. They stay like that, frozen in time, a perfect Christmas cliché, until Andrew whispers, “I missed you, too”

In just a minute, someone will gasp in faux-surprise and point out the sprig of mistletoe tacked to the ceiling right above their heads. Andrew will tell the room at large to fuck off, but he’ll kiss Neil, anyway, mouth familiar and gentle, and Neil’s heart will beat in double-time. They’ll squeeze themselves into the same spot on the sofa, nestled beneath the kitschy blanket to finish the Christmas movie Renee had put in – a completely different movie to the one Neil had fallen asleep to, not that he particularly notices, with Andrew’s hand tucked safely against his own.

They’ll drink mulled wine and eat sugar cookies, sit in a circle by the fire to trade gifts, little pieces of sentiment that will travel back home to their own little corners of the earth. Kevin will get ahold of Wymack on Skype, a system he’s still getting to grips with, and he’ll tell them they’re all little shits despite his warm, watery eyes.

Neil will stay there, nestled between Andrew and Matt, watching the sun go down through the frosted bay windows, reminiscing with his family until his eyes begin to droop again. They will, all of them, the Foxes, get the Christmas they deserve, with a family they never thought they’d have, and a peace they’d fought tooth and nail for.

#my fic #aftg exchange #foxeshaveclaws #aftg #andreil #sorry this is late hfbfb i have a had a Day

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soartfullydone · 3 years

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Ah, Miss Boggess, there you are. Timofey's been driving me mad. He said he's found you the most luxurious gown—I do hope you plan to contribute funds, this isn't Cresce after all—and he wanted to know what your preference in masks might be. I beg you not to be too gaudy, I refuse to be upstaged. And you know how Alderode can be when its women are too bold.

I don’t know if this is anything but oh well!

Melody squinted up at the wright who’d waltzed into her space, disturbing her work with his near-incessant chatter. Bastion was in a good mood, then, complaints about Timofey aside, which suited her because technically her space belonged to him. The entire safe house did. She had done her best to clear out the papers, books, empty wine bottles, and other assorted debris from a corner of the room and remain undisturbed while disturbing no one. That plan had mostly worked until now.

Mercifully, when she met Bastion’s black gaze, he was clothed this time. As ever, he wore that same silver torc she never saw him without and was swathed in black. The v-neck cut of his shirt extended all the way down to his naval, which was downright modest of him even if she did get an eyeful, sitting on the floor as she was. He towered over her as he braced a forearm against the wall in a casual lean, intent on having her answer.

With a sigh, she lowered her writing instrument and, bypassing his comments entirely, extended the papers she was working on toward him, all business. “Here.”

On each page’s surface was a series of facial composite sketches. She’d drawn every Ald and Sharte who’d been on that beach when the cache of First Silver was stolen to the best of her memory. Had done similarly for nearly every job she’d ever taken as an assassin. Killing the wrong mark was embarrassing—and clean-up was messier. Experience was the harshest and best teacher.

Which is why she knew she was missing something about that night. It eluded her as much as the identity of their mysterious thief.

“Well, I wouldn’t submit these to any museums if I were you, darling,” Bastion commented, straightening up and listlessly flipping through the pages. “I trust you won’t be offended by my firm refusal to display these. We’re both adults here.”

Melody fought back the urge to roll her eyes. “Is there anyone there you don’t recognize?”

His black brow lifted minutely, and he studied the pages more thoroughly, eyes passing over every face and noting the ones marked dead with an x beside them. “Only this ugly fellow. Such an unfortunate nose. I hope he at least gets his use out of it between a woman’s thighs.”

As he showed her the sketch, Melody did not check her smile. It was all teeth. “That’s you. Before the glamour dropped.”

“Such a generous perception you have towards us merry Alds. You even took me for a soud! Some don’t believe the Golds are true Aldishmen at all, you know.”

“Is that what you think?”

“My dear murderess, I have grown quite immune to the opinions of my countrymen.”

“But there’s no one else?” she pressed, nodding towards the papers in his hands. “No one who looks different to you because they might’ve also been glamoured?”

“Afraid I was the only wright who came prepared and armed with intelligence.” Bastion handed the stack back to her, a dry smile appearing on his lips. “Which is a glowing commendation to the clever bastard who managed to escape unseen with my Silver.”

“Our Silver,” corrected Melody, tossing the papers aside. So that had been for nothing. If she hadn’t been keen on killing their saboteur when they found him, she sure was now. Irritated, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “So sorry I missed the lad. I was preoccupied ensuring that a certain prepared and intelligent wright didn’t succeed in cutting open one of my major arteries.”

“You should’ve shown your face sooner, little Sharte. It might have given me pause.”

Melody climbed to her feet, extended her arms over her head, and stretched. A few vertebrae popped, and her tense muscles loosened the slightest bit. She felt more than saw Bastion’s gaze travel along the arch of her back, but she paid it no mind. Behind his charismatic mien, she heard the dripping disdain he had for her. His client—Beadman’s buyer—might have botched the whole deal with the First Silver, but Bastion still pinned plenty of blame on her, the unexpected Sharteshanian wright who’d gotten in the way. For now, he tolerated her presence. He did not like her.

She felt the same way toward him, but reclaiming the Silver took priority over personal feelings. They would succeed and be out of each other’s hair much faster by working together than going it alone. Or so attending this Jet-only fête was supposed to prove.

“Timofey found me a dress, you said?”

“A gown,” stressed Bastion. “Regrettably, the event we’re attending is a respectable affair. On its surface, at any rate. No simple frock will do.”

“But let me guess. Full masks are too elaborate? Then, an eye mask is fine. I don’t care what’s on it, so long as it’s discreet.” If she was unable to completely hide her face as she skulked around, announcing her presence with a gaudy accessory wouldn’t help. In that regard, she and Bastion were in agreement. “I know my business, my lord. There’s no reason for you to be afraid I’ll top you—that’s not what I meant!”

Eventually, Bastion stopped laughing.

Eventually.

Melody didn’t know how Timofey lived with this man. In a figurative sense since Timofey wasn’t technically alive. At least the spirit seemed to like her or at least took some form of pity on her. If it truly was a gown he’d spied for her, that meant a long skirt. Which meant she could still wear her knives, including her dagger of First Iron. Thank the Twins. “If you do see Timofey before me, thank him, won’t you?”

“And when should I expect to hear praise fall from those acerbic lips, hm?” He shadowed her steps as she navigated through the cluttered safe house, past overturned chairs and tables overflowing with more papers, sheet music, cigarette buds, and half-full whisky tumblers. Without a hint of shame at the state of it all, he twirled a hand to indicate the room. “For providing you with all this?”

“Of course I’m grateful,” Melody allowed, her tone laced with irony. “My one regret—besides this whole thing—is that I can’t burden you less, but unfortunately, my benefactor has chosen Fachlyne for his roost. Only the most dangerous place in Kasslyne, but no matter.”

“You say that yet you haven’t even seen our shining capital! Although, that sarcasm of yours is almost charming. You must be a real brat in bed, aren’t you?”

She spun, fixing him with an annoyed glare. “Look, Winalils, about the gown. Don’t take this the wrong way—”

“Ach, an oft-used phrase that always achieves what it intends, but do continue.”

“The reason Timofey has my thanks is because I’m more confident that he has taste. I was terrified you’d be picking something out, and it would equate to dental floss.”

“So taking care of one’s teeth isn’t a total myth in Sharteshane.” Bastion’s mouth quirked, and he regarded her with half-lidded eyes, taking a single step closer. “For a worshipper of supposed divine beings, you have little faith. If I dressed you, darling, it would be to flatter. Death and danger each have their forbidden appeal, and a master assassin should know how to use both to seduce her prey. If you’ve never heightened your assets to such titillating ends—when you certainly have the ass and tits to do so—then perhaps we should change that sometime. Besides…” He was close enough for his cool breath to caress her neck. “Are you quite sure you’d mind overmuch playing the doll for me?”

Her face hot, Melody shoved him back into the edge of a table to his audible amusement. “If you’re going to be a fucking prick, I’d rather hash out the rest of this with Timofey.”

“He can’t take your coin. And as adorable as you look all riled up like a bitch in heat, that’s why I’m here.”

Jaw clenching, Melody thought about biting his extended hand. Y’know, if she was going to be such a riled-up bitch. Instead, she retrieved her coin pouch, which was nowhere close to full, and concentrated on counting out a suitable amount of sems rather than test Bastion’s knowledge of using pymary through touch. The coins clinked as they fell into his open palm, the grim sight of her dwindling funds cooling her anger.

“About that,” said Melody in a flinty tone, returning to business. “I didn’t exactly plan on an extended stay in Alderode, and the First Royal Bank of Sharteshane isn’t within walking distance. I was thinking we might amend our… arrangement.”

Bastion was already turning from her, waving a dismissive hand. “If you’re looking for charity—”

“We’re not going to find our man at this thing. Reconnaissance never goes that smoothly. We might find a lead at best,” Melody said, stepping in front of him. If he didn’t want to listen to her, he could offset away and leave her coin behind. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be a huge waste of time. Nobles are the same everywhere. They have secrets to hide. You want me to find those secrets for you, I will. Want to blackmail someone? Done. Need someone tailed after the party? Done. This might even be easier for me to do here than in Sharteshane. Women are just supposed to be part of the decor, aye?”

“Aye, except for here, it seems.” His words were clipped, but he gave her an appraising look, almost challenging. “They are also to stay where they can be seen, not wandering into forbidden places without an escort.”

“What’s that matter to me? My reputation here is a fabrication. I’m not an Aldish lady. I’m the Shade. I don’t exist.” Melody took a short, bracing breath, but what was the point in holding back now? “Listen, Winalils, this is the closest I get to selling myself, and I do take my business as seriously as a heart attack. At least tell me you’ll consider it.”

“I already am. What I’m curious about is what you want in return.”

“A guarantee of shelter. Food, clothes, just the basics. To know that when I sleep I’ll be safe.”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s all?”

“Aye. When I say basics, I mean basics. And I don’t want to pay for another fucking dress. Sell them after or give them to one of your lays, I don’t care. But if I drop coin in this country, it’s going to be because I—we—had no other choice. I’m not going back to—” Melody stopped talking, memories carding through her mind too quickly to land on any one. Her Sharte accent was thick as she ended with, “Anywho, those’re me terms.”

For the first time since their conversation started, Melody thought Bastion looked tired. His frown somehow deepened the perpetual shadows under his eyes, which had taken on an unreachable distance. As quickly as the sight appeared, it was gone. His chin-length black hair moved just so as he tilted his head back to look down his straight nose at her, his shrug as equally careless. “I accept them, provided that my end of the bargain will only be honored on the delivery of yours.”

“That’s how it’s done.” Melody jutted out her hand, ready to seal the deal the Sharteshanian way. A bone-breaking handshake—sans the spit. They were in plague territory after all, and assassin though she was, she merely flirted with death; she didn’t court it. Bastion’s hand enfolded hers, his long fingers encasing her own. Bloody pianist hands. It didn’t bother her at all to turn their handshake into a biting vise, didn’t surprise her that Bastion winced as his bones creaked ever so slightly.

What did surprise her and cause her whole body to freeze was when, on the third pump, he bowed low and brought her hand to his lips, his mouth landing hot on her knuckles. His wet tongue slid between the skin of her middle and ring finger, his eyes flicking up to hers when she hissed. His mouth stretched into an unforgiving, unrepentant smile.

The Aldish way to seal the deal, with a healthy side of Black Tongue.

Of course, she didn’t know that at the time.

#anyway bite me cassie #ca: observe my sins #cue scene #Anonymous #otp: a little death

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samsonet · 4 years

Text

don't need a rainbow here (my world is black and white)

Piers shouldn't be with these Rainbow Rocket weirdos.

There has been a terrible mistake.

One minute, Piers was celebrating his sister’s victory at the champion cup, and the next, he’s... He doesn’t know. There was a light, and he was falling, and —

and then he ended up here.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t seem to be restrained, which is good. He’s not in a hospital, either, which is… probably good? Or it would be, if he had any idea what this place actually was.

It’s dark. There are red lights from the floor, the walls. It’s eerily quiet. Piers is reminded of one of the most boring clubs he’s ever been to — but at least this place smells alright. Small mercies.

“You’re awake.”

Oh, no.

Piers whips toward the voice, one hand going automatically to his belt for Obstagoon’s pokeball — but it’s not there. Of course. They must’ve taken his team while he was unconscious.

Well, if these bastards think he’ll be helpless without his Pokémon, they’re wrong. Piers may be scrawny and sick-looking, but he’s a dark-type specialist. He knows how to fight without brute force.

During this time, the other person in the room does not move to restrain him. In fact, all he does is give a quiet laugh.

Piers examines him. The other man is short, but he has an aura that fills the room. He’s wearing a suit with an R on the chest. He doesn’t seem like a corporate type — and Piers has seen more than his fair share of those — but rather like… a gang boss or something.

“Sorry if you were expecting a ransom,” Piers coughs out. “The league doesn’t care about the Spikemuth gym leader. They’ll tell you to keep me.”

But he’s not just the Spikemuth gym leader anymore, is he? He’s the champion’s brother. He knows Marnie would give anything to get him back safely.

“I must apologize. It seems we’ve started with a misunderstanding. You may call me Giovanni. And your name is…?”

Giovanni speaks with an accent similar to Kabu’s. Is he from one of the eastern regions? Stranger and stranger.

“...Piers.”

“Mr. Piers. I represent a coalition of certain people with… dark hearts, shall we say. We are working together for the time being. I believe you will fit in well with us.”

Piers blinks. What, is this an invitation to some interregional society of dark-type specialists? Which… would make a disturbing amount of sense with the kidnapping and all, but damn, what a stereotype.

“Yeah, mate, thanks but no thanks,” he says, standing up. “I don’t know how much ya heard from the news, but I can’t drop everything to join yer club. Nothing personal.”

Giovanni chuckles. “Come with me.”

Piers goes, partly because he’s curious, partly because it’s not like he can do anything else. He follows the man down a dark hallway, then through what seems to be a lobby, and then outside.

Outside is too hot. The sun is too bright. And the land… is not land.

It’s ocean, as far as the eye can see. In the distance, a flock of Wingull circle an island. Piers rubs his eyes, not quite believing what he’s seeing.

“As you may have noticed,” Giovanni says, “we are not in Galar at the moment.”

From there, Piers is more willing to listen. Giovanni gives him a tour, speaking vaguely about life in Kanto and the group’s current situation in Alola.

At the end, Piers is introduced to one young woman as something like his personal assistant.

“She speaks Galarian,” Giovanni explains. “Most of the other grunts don’t, so if you need something, come to her.”

She refuses to give him her name, making excuses about how the grunts weren’t supposed to use them, but she does allow him to call her J.

J’s alright. She reminds him of his gym trainers, in her earnestness and weirdness. She only comes when he calls for her. Otherwise, Piers is left to do as he pleases.

Right now he’s fine just staying in his room, occasionally going out to raid their kitchen or get fresh air.

At least his Pokemon are alright. Giovanni gives them back a few hours after showing Piers the ocean. Most of his team seems to notice no difference between this place and Spikemuth, but Obstagoon does. It’s simply not meant for such a warm climate.

Piers brings this up to J, and she agrees to set his room’s temperature to something more normal for Galar.

He trains. He sleeps. He keeps up his vocal exercises. It’s fine.

What Piers learns, over the course of a week, is this:

The multiverse exists, and he has traveled through it. Somehow, and nobody will explain how, Giovanni summoned Piers from the own world and has trapped him in this one.

In this world, Leon is still the champion. The date is a few years before Piers sent Marnie on her gym challenge, so it seems he has time traveled as well.

He’s not the only guest here, either. Around the building, there are others — but not dark-type specialists.

No, these people are gang leaders.

Piers sees them in passing, recognizing them and quickly making his escapes. There’s Ghetsis, the Unovan cult leader who attacked the league and came this close to destroying their government. There’s Archie and Maxie, the eco-terrorists who didn’t seem to understand that the earth needed both land and water. There’s Cyrus, who… Piers can’t even start with him.

Of course, just because these men were all would-be villains in his world, it didn’t mean they were the same in their home universes.

He asks J what their stories are.

“Oh. Uh, Maxie’s a real passionate sorta guy, even though he doesn’t look like it. He tried to summon this Pokémon in Hoenn, I don’t remember the name of it, wanted to use it to shrink the oceans, make more land.”

The rest of her stories pretty much follow what Piers read in the news, but for one key detail: back in their home universes, all the men had succeeded.

“You mean that guy Archie drowned the world? Nobody stopped him?”

“I’m sure Team Aqua survived?” J offers.

Piers stares in open-mouthed amazement. When he finds his words again, he asks, “And your boss doesn’t mind having these people here?”

“No? He likes them, I think? They all fit the same pattern, you know. Guy with vision leads a band of outlaws to fulfill his goal… and the second they do, Rainbow Rocket picks ‘em up and brings ‘em here. Isn’t that what happened with you?”

“What happened to me? I’m not like them—” But as soon as he says it, he has to reconsider. The description she’s given is so vague, it could very well apply to him. If wanting his sister to be champion counted as a vision, then he did, technically, have a vision. Team Yell was, technically, a band of outlaws.

He purses his lips, not liking the conclusion he’s drawn.

J says, hesitantly, “I don’t know what you did back home. Whatever it was, I won’t judge ya. After all, you gotta be here for a reason, right?”

Piers thinks about that as he steps into the kitchen at 11:30 that night. He can’t begin to guess why he would be in this world, but he at least knows what his goal is at the moment.

It’s stereotypically Galarian of him, he knows, crawling out of bed for a spot of tea. That’s fine; it’s not like there’s anyone around to see him.

Then the door opens.

“...Piers?”

Even with one word, there is no mistaking the voice.

Chairman Rose stands in the doorway, frozen as though in shock. He’s wearing one of those grey suits he likes so much, though the shirt is wrinkled and the tie missing. He’d probably fallen asleep at his desk.

He doesn’t look like he fits here, in a group of dangerous men. Piers has to admit that he himself matches the aesthetic of the place; Rose does not.

Rose says, “What did you do?”

Piers says, “Why don’t I make us tea an’ we can talk about it.”

The chairman seems to agree to that, even getting out the teacups while Piers boils the water. This never would have happened in his home world, and yet it’s the most familiar interaction he’s had since he arrived.

When they’re sitting at the kitchen table with their tea, Piers begins: “In my world, I’m the leader of a group called Team Yell. My sister Marnie is the champion.”

“Oh?”

“We didn’t cheat.” He’s defensive, he knows, but it’s not like he and Rose had a trusting relationship before all of this. “She won fair and square, on her own talents.”

“I wasn’t saying otherwise.”

“An’ what about you, then? What did you do that got you thrown here — besides being a billionaire, I mean.”

In Piers’ world, using that tone of voice on that word would make the chairman bristle. Here, Rose looks more mournful than offended.

“Who did your Marnie fight for the championship title?”

“Leon…? Why, is somebody else champion in your world?”

“His brother Hop is champion now, but he battled Leon for the title. Or... he would have. I was impatient. I moved too quickly.”

Rose shifts in his seat, pulling out a pokeball. No, not just any ball — a master ball. The Pokémon inside looks like none Piers has ever seen: almost wormlike, spiny, glowing with a dim red light.

“You asked what I did to deserve being here,” Rose murmurs. “I’ll tell you. I forced Leon to fight a Pokémon more powerful than anything Galar had ever seen. He died bringing it to me.”

...Arceus.

It takes Piers only a moment to process this information and then decide he doesn’t want to hear any more of it.

Rose looks like he’s about to start on one of his rambling speeches, so Piers quickly holds up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Let’s talk about somethin’ else.”

“Something else, as in…”

“Your first battle. Your latest charity project. Whatever.”

To his credit, Rose is skilled at conversation. He easily transitions to discussions of his university days, the music theory class he’d taken as an elective. It surprises Piers how much he knows… and yet he can’t say that the discussion isn’t interesting.

It’s the first time Piers has spoken to the league chairman without worrying about Spikemuth. It will not be the last.

Archie speaks just enough Galarian to make Piers feel like an idiot.

It’s not like he’s never thought about human influence on the environment — he lives in a smoke-filled city, after all — but to hear Archie talk of pollution and the Pokémon affected by it, Piers has to admit that awakening an ancient Pokémon isn’t the worst solution out there.

Archie doesn’t seem to know that Maxie is alive and well and in the castle. Piers doesn’t tell him.

One day J brings him a composition book and a small electric keyboard.

“Since you write music,” she says sheepishly. “Sorry I couldn’t get you a guitar or something. I went with the next best thing.”

She leaves him alone, and he writes down some lyrics for a new song.

It’s about a fictional lost romance, but the imagery is all about being trapped in paradise, about missing the gloom of his hometown.

Galar is going to love it. If he ever gets back, anyway.

He’d asked about his present universe counterpart once and received a tablet that was somehow connected to the internet. His other self is doing well, both as a gym leader and a musician. Piers thinks about reaching out, but in the end decides not to. He wouldn’t believe this story if someone tried telling it to him; his counterpart is likely no different.

Days pass.

Maxie speaks just enough Galarian to make Piers feel like an idiot.

It’s not like he’s never thought about land as a resource — Galar is technically an island, after all — but to hear Maxie speak of erosion and human life, Piers has to admit that the idea of awakening an ancient Pokémon could be reasonable.

Maxie doesn’t seem to know that Archie is here, too. Piers doesn’t tell him.

He runs into Cyrus one morning at breakfast.

Cyrus asks, “Are you the one I hear singing in Galarian?”

He looks dead inside as always, which, Piers thinks, is a mood.

“Tha’s me, yeah. M’ name’s Piers.”

“Your music is very… spirited,” Cyrus says.

“Thanks?”

“I would prefer not to hear it.”

“Ah.”

Piers spends a lot of time talking to Rose. It’s not what he would have expected or wanted, but Rose is the only other Galarian around.

Still, he’s isn’t bad company when the league isn’t involved. He’s fond of art and architecture and all those stereotypical rich people things, but he’s also well-versed in popular culture.

(“I didn’t take you for an Avengers fan.”

“Admittedly it was not something I sought out for myself. My son Bede—”

“Wait, you adopted Bede?”

“Of course. Didn’t my counterpart do the same?”)

That’s why, when his throat aches from practice and there’s nothing else to do, Piers goes looking for him.

Rose is in one of the conference rooms. He’s usually there; he’s said before that it’s comfortably familiar to him. It’s the man he’s talking to who grabs Piers’ attention, though.

Rose says, “Piers, allow me to introduce you to Lysandre. He is a friend in my world, and his counterpart is just as elegant and driven.”

Lysandre looks down at him, magnanimous and regal. It should make sense that he and Rose know each other. They’re rich philanthropists, captains of industry; even with their different regions, it makes sense they would know each other.

And yet.

Rose, for all his billionaire capitalist near-dystopian command of the region, did not come from money. At one point he was poor. At one point he worked in the mines, dirty work.

Lysandre is an aristocrat. Lysandre is one of those smarmy bastards who believes that a person’s value depends entirely on whether they’re productive. People like him say that Spikemuth is poor because they don’t try hard enough.

When Team Flare began their attempt at apocalypse, the power spots went wild. Piers spent the day helping in Hammerlocke and trying not to worry about little Marnie all alone in their flat.

It was only later that Piers learned something like the full story, from Galarian translations of Professor Sycamore’s explanations.

He didn’t like what he read.

“I’ve heard of you,” Piers says. “Yer the one who wanted to kill all the Pokemon, right?”

Rose frowns. “I assure you, no one loves Pokemon like Lysandre—”

“It had to be done,” Lysandre says.

His voice is deeper than Piers’ or Rose’s, and his words hang heavily in the air.

“Lysandre… what…”

“My apologies, Elijah. Where there is a scarce resource, there will be conflict. With conflict comes suffering. Pokemon are destined to be used by humans; the only way to prevent it was to remove them.” He sighs a world-weary sigh, then looks to Piers. “I cannot confirm if I was successful in my world, but that was my intention.”

Rose pales. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to — I must —”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. In a moment he’s rushing out the door, unsteady on his feet. Piers follows him. He finds him leaning against the wall, clutching his chest and sweating.

“Are you okay?” Shit, he’s not having a heart attack, is he?

“I'm fine. Physically,” Rose says. “It’s just — my Lysandre wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t talk like that.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate this place,” Rose says. “I hate everyone in it — except you.”

“Mhm.”

Piers walks down the hall to find his path blocked by that man in the snuggie.

“Mr. Piers, was it?” Ghetsis asks. “A pleasure to meet you. My name is—”

“I know who you are. Not interested.”

“Come now, what harm could I possibly do to you here? You lose nothing by listening for a few minutes.”

“If you’re going to give me that ‘humans and Pokemon should be separated’ bull, save your breath. Galar watched your stunt at the league. We know you don’t even believe it yourself.”

He tries to force his way past, but Ghetsis remains firm. He’s like Lysandre, much taller than any normal person has any right to be. He stands unmoving, but the smile on his face grows bigger and more unnerving by the second.

(Piers misses Raihan.)

“Of course not,” Ghetsis says. “I wouldn’t insult your intelligence like that. After all, a dark-type specialist like yourself is no doubt familiar with strategy. Especially in your league.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ghetsis chuckles. “You say you’ve seen my ‘stunt,’ as it were. I’ve seen yours, too. The league lets your town rot on purpose, and the only salvation they offer is for you to leave it? I know I would be angry, were I in your position.”

Deep breaths. He’s a manipulator; don’t let him get to you.

“And your champion — I’ve never seen someone so undeserving of what they were given—”

It’s only after Piers throws the punch that he realizes Ghetsis probably meant Leon and not Marnie.

Well, it’s no problem either way; Piers’ fist hits him square in the nose, making a satisfying sound as it connects. It seems Ghetsis is frailer than he looks. He stumbles back with a groan, giving Piers the chance to walk past him.

“Don’t talk to me again,” he calls over his shoulder.

Ghetsis only glares.

One day Piers opens a door to find a gigantic black Jellicent-woman hybrid on the other side.

“Ah,” J says when he stops screaming long enough to tell her what happened. “I see you’ve met the Motherbeast.”

He doesn’t dare ask what the story behind that is.

It says something that the emergency lights here are blue.

J rushes to him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down the hall.

“What’s happening?”

“We’re moving from our shielded position to a VLFS. The structure is currently occupied, so it’s not as smooth as we’d like. But don’t worry about it, Giovanni has a plan.”

A plan. Isn’t that reassuring.

There are grunts running everywhere. Piers catches glimpses of people in white and gold — the current occupants? They’re fighting against the Rockets.

Piers should help them. He’s a gym leader, and gym leaders are supposed to help people, right? Innocent bystanders vs invading criminals. It should be an easy choice. Piers should turn around — right — now — and…

...and he doesn’t.

He goes back to his room like a child, pretending he doesn’t see what’s going on around him. Let this region’s champion handle it, if there is one.

By the end of the hour, the lights are back to red.

Rainbow Rocket’s occupation of Aether Paradise lasts for an hour before someone comes tearing through the grunts.

Piers considers going out to meet them, but he holds back. He doesn’t feel like getting into a fight.

Still, his curiosity grows. A few minutes in and he’s walking out.

In the main room, a man holds two grunts at arms’ length. He’s tall, somewhere between Ghetsis and Lysandre in height. He’s wearing a baggy hoodie with a skull design on the back. He’s not a suited corporate type at all.

Piers decides he likes him.

“‘Ey, you two.” He pokes both of the grunts on their backs, nudging them away. “I’ll take care of this guy, a’right? Now scram.”

The grunts obey.

The man doesn’t seem grateful, but that’s reasonable: he didn’t look like he needed rescuing, really. He circles Piers, cracking his knuckles.

“So you’re with these guys, are you? Where’d ya put the prez?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He holds up a hand, trying to ward off a potential fistfight. “‘M here ‘cause I train dark types an’ someone thought that makes a bad guy. M’ name’s Piers.”

The man puts his hands in his pockets, circling Piers. There’s something dark in his eyes; Piers sees it in the mirror every day.

At last the man says, “I’m Guzma, the boss of Team Skull. I like your shoes.”

His shoes, with the skulls on the heels. Punk recognizes punk.

Piers wonders if they’ve met before. He could have sworn, sometime during his stay here, that he’s heard the name.

Maybe Guzma’s counterpart is running around the castle somewhere.

“Who’s the prez you mentioned?”

“The prez. You know, the lady who owns this place? Lusamine. Tall white lady, hair like a cocoon down to her ankles?”

The Motherbeast. Or her counterpart, more likely.

“Haven’t seen her, sorry.”

“Hmph.” Guzma stomps to the wall and slumps against it. “Well, at least our champion’s here. She’ll beat you all down before long.”

Their champion. Piers pictures a muscular woman in her mid-twenties, a white cape flowing behind her.

“There she is! Hey, Moon! You find that Giovanni yet?”

In rushes a girl — no, two girls — both younger than Marnie. The dark-haired one looks up at Guzma and shakes her head.

“There’s one more room, Mr. Guzma,” her blonde partner says.

“Then go for it. Me an’ Piers here’ll make sure nobody goes after ya.”

The girls rush off. Guzma follows them with his eyes, and when they’re out of sight, he slumps back again.

“They’re good kids, Moon and Lillie. Didn’t have the best home lives, but they’re still holdin’ on… you gotta admire that, right?”

Giovanni calls the whole thing off. Apparently the others in this Rainbow Rocket gang got sent back to their universes by this scientist working for Aether. That simultaneously encourages Piers and pisses him off, because if this was possible all this time, someone should’ve offered him a ride home.

Better late than never, he supposes.

Colress has him and Rose in the same room, “because your universes have a similar frequency, so I can send you both home at once.”

Rose nods. “So, Piers, it seems this is where we say goodbye.”

“Yeah.” A chuckle. “Can’t say I’m looking forward to fighting with you about power spots and stadiums again.”

A wry smile. “Well… I’d give a farewell speech, but I believe you wouldn’t care for it. So let me say this instead: I am thankful to have had you here.”

“You, too.”

“And if I may ask you a favor…” Rose takes Piers by the shoulder, pulling him close. He whispers in his ear: “If your Rose is anything like me, he does genuinely care for Leon. Tell him to act like it, while he has the chance.”

Piers’ face feels warm. His chest tightens, and he feels dizzy… and then he falls.

He falls, and he lands on his face, and Arceus is that Marnie’s voice.

“Where were you?” Her voice has that pitch she gets when she’s about to cry, and Piers hurries to hug her. They’re sitting in… Wyndon Stadium? There’s Marnie’s Liepard, and on the other side of the pitch, a kid in a challenger uniform and their Kommo-o.

“How long was I gone?”

“Six. Freaking. Months. I went looking for you! But nobody had any idea where you could’ve gone… Where were you?”

He pats her back. “I… got lost. It’s a long story. ‘M sorry for leaving you, Mar. I promise I’ll never do that to ya again.”

When Champion Moon visits Galar for the World Tournament, she is introduced to their gym leaders.

She gives Piers a thoughtful look, but never says why.

#piers pokemon #rainbow rocket #DNARHMWIBAW

17 notes · View notes

screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years

Text

I Can’t Eat Love- Side Part 1 - Nate

This is the first of 4 or 5 side parts (I might do an Edith part, but if i do it will be fairly short). We’re starting off with Nate, with plans for Rig’s to be the next one.

Master post linked here. (I’ll update it again after posting).

Again, this will be from Nate’s POV.

Enjoy!

______________________________

In a previous life...

No one ever truly looked at me, despite being a prince, despite trying my best. Their gazes always slipped past me, to focus on someone else. I felt sometimes that i was shouting, screaming for someone to see me, see who i was... but it always came to nothing in the end.

I noticed it early on.

______________________________

“Nate!” My older brother George called out as he crashed into my room without notice. “People are in trouble! We have to go help them!”

I sighed loudly. George always said the exact same thing. Last time was because his favorite shop was out of sweets. “What is it this time?”

“I saw some people didn’t have homes on the streets, I’m going to help them.”

“You want to start a charity?” I stood, up, already thinking through the steps that would need to be accomplished.

George stopped in his tracks, his enthusiasm waning. “Eh, a charity? Can’t we just… get them off the streets?”

A headache started forming behind my eyes. I rubbed my temples, closing my eyes. “I’ll take care of the paperwork. We’ll get a charity started and help the people you are worried about.”

“Perfect!” Excited once more, George clapped me on the back before charging back out, the open swinging door the only trace of his outburst. I sighed again.

I would be busy for a while.

______________________________

“George! We are so proud of the charitable work you’ve been doing lately!” Father spoke up at dinner, his eyes warm as he studied my brother.

Wait, what? I looked up from my meal, shocked. Neither of my parents paid any attention to me, however, both focused on my older brother.

“Thanks!” George happily accepted the compliment, never glancing in my direction. An angry flame built up in my chest.

Why wasn’t he telling them that I did most of the work? Why doesn’t anyone care that I was the one who made this project a success?

“But…” I tried to speak up, feeling embarrassed but determined to be seen.

“You need to be more like your brother, Nate.” My Mother smiled calmly at me, not noticing the pain she was causing. “You could learn a lot from him.”

My determination shriveled to nothing in my chest, and i stared back down at my plate, blinking back tears.

I didn’t finish dinner that night.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” I asked him later, upset. His only response was to stare innocently back at me.

“We both worked hard. I’m sure they realize that.”

But they didn’t.

They never did.

______________________________

“Let go of her!” George yelled out, charging into the middle of a group of men harassing a young woman. They outnumbered him twelve to one, and he had below average fighting ability, he was quickly restrained, a punch landing on his stomach by a smirking gang member.

Seeing all this as I arrived, I ordered the royal guards I had brought with me to split the group in half, quickly joining the side that held my brother captive.

“DO YOUR WORST YOU COWARDS!” George screamed fearlessly at them even as he was helpless to break free.

I saw the knife pointing in his direction, and jumped forward to protect him without thinking, wincing as the blade cut through my skin.

At least I had saved him, despite his rashness. I felt my heart lift, ignoring the painful bleeding wound on my arm. They would have to see me now.

______________________________

“WHY DIDN’T YOU GO WITH YOUR BROTHER?” My father was angry, glancing between a bruised and battered George and me. “He wouldn’t have been hurt nearly as badly if you had been there from the start!”

I gritted my teeth, still holding pressure to the bandage across my slashed arm. “I don’t know what George told you, but we needed reinforcements…”

“He said you didn’t care when he told you about the young woman in trouble.” My father’s eyes were cold, freezing my heart.

“I just said we needed more people to do it safely… I was always planning to help but...”

He raised a hand, dismissing my words. “Why can’t you be more like your brother?”

Looking at George’s pitiful smile, and my father’s uncomfortable stare, I slowly closed my mouth, refusing to speak further.

______________________________

Incident after incident, it was always me bailing him out of trouble, yet somehow he took all the credit for the achievements, and I was responsible for all the failures. A darkness grew in my heart, a deep and angry bitterness that I couldn’t suppress.

Why was I helping him?

The thought came more and more frequently.

And then came the day.The terrible day i regretted more than any other.

“People are in trouble! There are bandits! We have to go help them!”

I smiled coldly at my brother’s frantic words, but never looked up.

“Then go help them.”

“…” George stared at me in shock. I understood. In the past I had always leapt to my feet, eager to help any way I could.

“You should probably get more information, such as locations and numbers. Make sure to bring reinforcements, too.” I spoke carelessly as I continued to read the book in front of me, ignoring him.

“Aren’t you going to take care of things?”

“No.” I smiled, looking at his disappointed expression without flinching.

“Don’t you care about our people?”

“I’m just taking our parents advice to heart.” I laughed, but it was a bitter, unpleasant sound. “I’m going to be more like you. I’m going to sit here, and let someone else do all the work.”

I felt a brief moment of elation as he left empty handed. This time, I wouldn’t be used. This time, our parents would see that it was always my hard work that George had depended on. They would look at me, truly look at me, for the first time.

I smiled, turning my attention back to my book, not sparing another thought as George slammed the door behind him.

But that was the last time I saw my brother alive.

At first, it seemed like a bad joke. How could he die the one time I didn’t help him? Why did he just rush in like always without reinforcements, had he thought I would come despite what I said?

All my anger, my frustration, my jealousy… it was left without a target.

It was just me left.

But still… no one truly looked at me.

The nobles, the castle servants… my parents. They continued to mourn, and now instead of fighting to be compared to an imperfect older brother, I was constantly haunted by the perfection of their memories.

I was trapped.

______________________________

I traveled a lot, hoping to escape their sad gazes. Escape my own guilt. In Reterand, I met some interesting people. Jim was an official in the Royal Treasury, who spent some time explaining economic theory to me. The Queen in particular was kind, even if she spent most of her time telling me how wonderful her “daughter” was and how much we would get along.

I found this confusing. As far as I knew, The Royal family only had one child, a son.

I didn’t stay long in that kingdom. The crown prince Ronan was particularly annoying. He spent the majority of his time boasting about his many talents, and the small remainder complaining about his fiancé, who he called “a boring girl.”

I felt sorry for her, whoever she was. It wouldn’t be easy to marry a man like that.

I returned to Tilendria, and never thought much of it again. A few years later, however, a report crossed my desk.

“Ronan broke his engagement?” I raised an eyebrow as I read the report, a slight pain in my chest as it described the way the poor girl had been callously tossed aside at a public party.

“And is now engaged to her close friend, the daughter of a count.” A servant confirmed.

“Poor girl.” The words left my mouth in a whisper. I searched my memory, trying to think if I had ever met her, but came up blank. I hoped she was able to find a better life. Ronan would not have made a good husband. I set the report down, shaking my head as I caught sight of the name at the top of the page. “Poor Lenora.”

______________________________

It wasn’t until almost two years later that I visited Reterand again. Any time spent in the presence of Prince Ronan and his wife Edith was insufferable. Ronan was no better than the first time I met him, arrogant and loud. Edith was even worse, with no sense of propriety. She would attempt to order me around as a servant, claiming that Tilendria was a “small, insignificant country” and I should be glad for the opportunity to serve her.

What a fool. I ignored her, curious instead as to why I could no longer meet the Queen. She had been kind and helpful last time I had visited, if a little obsessed with her daughter. But when I asked around, everyone had similar uncomfortable expressions.

“She’s in mourning, Your Highness.” One of the more competent butlers, a man named Hallers, informed me finally. I was curious, and couldn’t help asking.

“Who is she mourning?”

“…” Despite the man’s professional mask, I caught sight of a brief flash of grief behind his eyes. Hallers hid it well, but he seemed to be deeply affected by the loss of whoever had died.

Seeing his reluctance to speak, I simply patted him on the shoulder, allowing him to leave. Such a cold, professional man, what kind of person could have gotten close to him to leave him so heartbroken?

Still thinking of this, I headed out of the castle, wanting to escape spending time away from the prince and his group. I decided to go igcognito, using a scarf and cloak to hide my features and forgoing my guards. It was a little foolish, but I felt that as long as I wasn’t recognized, I’d be fine.

I was definitely mistaken.

______________________________

“Give us your money!” A pair of burly men cornered me in an alley. He held out a knife towards my face, giving me a gap toothed grin.

“I can honestly say I don’t have much on me.” Other than a couple of crowns, which I readily held out, I hadn’t brought anything with me. My free hand gripped the pommel of my sword under my cape. I wasn’t a brilliant fighter, but I should be able to hold my own against these two.

But still I hesitated. If I was found to be involved in a bloody incident, this could have some diplomatic ramifications. While I was thinking this over, the man stepped closer, his eyes vicious. “Then I’ll just have to cut you open and see what else is worth selling.”

My hand tightened on my sword as he drew near, but before I could draw it…

THUD.

A throwing knife grazed the man’s face, hitting the wall behind him. The sound of happy laughter filled the air.

“What the…?” Surprised, all three of us looked up at the roof of the nearby building, the source of the attack. To my utter shock, a beautiful young woman sat on the edge, spinning a blade on her palm. She was dressed in black, loosely fitting clothes, her light hair tied up behind her head. The woman was smiling, but it was not a kind smile. And her eyes…

Intelligent, sad… they were deeper than any other I had ever seen. I was lost in them.

“Hate to spoil your fun, but you know that Rig doesn’t like you two doing business in his terf.” She laughed again, a pleasant sound. I felt my cheeks flush with warmth. I had seen beautiful women before, there were plenty in the royal court, but none with the simple confidence and steadiness she displayed with the smallest of actions. It was breathtaking to watch.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE…?” One of the robbers started to shout, only to be stopped by his friend, who was still clutching his bleeding face.

“Shut up, fool! That’s Rig’s daughter.”

“The brat he picked off the streets?” The other man’s eyes widened.

“He threatened to absolutely destroy anyone who hurts her.”

THUD.

Another knife flew past, a long slash appearing on the previously uninjured robber’s chest. He screamed in pain, holding the wound. I stared up at the woman, but all she revealed was a cold grin.

“That’s assuming you are talented enough to hurt me.”

“Don’t be so cocky!” One robber raised his fist. “I’ve heard that’s there’s a noble with a grudge out on Rig. If he get’s taken out, don’t think you’ll last long!”

She picked up a third knife, shrugging. “I’ve given you so many chances, and you’re still not leaving? I guess you’re ready to die then.”

“…” Without another word, the two men turned and ran away. She watched them leave, her face expressionless, her eyes filled with sadness.

“Hey mister, you should be more careful in the streets.” At her words I clutched the scarf that hid my face closer, and made sure my hood was still up. “You stick out while you’re hiding you’re face like that.”

I gave a formal bow. “Thank you for saving me. I wasn’t paying proper attention.”

“Of course.” Grinning, she jumped to the ground in front of me, and gave a formal curtsey. It was flawless, and I stared at her in shock. “Nobility running around without guards though… you could really get into trouble.”

“I could say the same to you.” I returned her words, unsure of what secrets this girl was hiding. She had been formally trained in etiquette, though, it was easily visible in every movement she made, every gesture.

“I’m not nobility… not anymore.” She had a bitter smile, but even more so she seemed… lonely. I found myself wanting to reach out, to comfort her, but my hand froze mid-gesture, unsure if she would be insulted.

“What’s your name anyways?” She studied me curiously, her eyes looking straight at me. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

She was my savior, how could I refuse? I started to pull down the scarf covering my face.

“I’m…”

“LENORA!” A voice cried out, and a distraught young man looked around the corner into the alley, his face pale. “IT’S RIG… he’s…” He trailed, off, shaking his head.

I heard her breath rush in. “Let’s go.”

She ran after him, pausing in the alleyway entrance to look back at me once. “Be careful in the future. I may not be there to save you next time.”

I grinned. “How about next time, I save you?”

“Deal.” She laughed, although anxiety now had crept into her voice. She was obviously worried about her this man Rig. I hoped he was okay. Without another word, she turned around and left, and I was alone once again.

I stared at the spot where she had been for a long time, my heartbeat in my ears, before turning back and returning to the palace.

______________________________

On my arrival I received a message, calling me back to Tilendria. I hesitated, my mind turning to the young woman I had met today, unable to completely forget her. Was she okay? Did she need help?

She was the first person to reach out and help me, not expecting me to do anything in return. So many people were willing to use me, wanting me to help them… even my own brother… but this woman… Lenora, they had called her….

I wanted to see her again.

I returned home, heeding the urgency in my summons, but I didn’t forget. I sent some of my servants back to Reterand and asked them to search for the young woman, and to offer help immediately if she was found. They had discovered that Rig, who had apparently run an information and spying ring, had been murdered, and the remainder of his gang had been imprisoned or killed.

My heart in my throat, I had them examine the bodies, and look at those captured, but none of them matched the description of Lenora.

Had she escaped?

Weeks, months went by without a word. I visited Reterand again, ignoring everyone else, just wandering around the Capital city, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but my efforts were fruitless.

Until a terrible day came, and they found her.

______________________________

My men’s faces were solemn as they reported to me, the sense of failure hanging heavy around them. i fell to my knees, my breath freezing in my lungs. It was too late.

She was dead.

I had them take me to her, a stabbing pain in my chest. I took in her overly thin form, her gaunt face which was still, so different from the lively woman who I had met on the streets that day.

I reached out, touching her cold, stiff hand, blinking back tears.

“What happened?” My voice was cold, I saw some of the servants shiver before one stepped forward to answer.

“We examined her… it appears to be starvation that took her life. Only…” He hesitated again, but at my glare swallowed and continued on. “Someone must have had a grudge against her. Her body was taken away to the palace, for a short while, and then tossed out into the wilderness beyond the city for the animals to dispose of. In fact, the only reason we were able to find her was due to those strange movements.”

I felt my heart break, my hand tightening on hers. Starvation. What a terrible death.

“I promised to save you.” My words were whispered, but each one hurt like a blow.

“Your Highness…”

“We’ll bury her in Tilendria. In the Royal plot.”

Silence filled the room for a few tense moments.

“A-are you sure? That’s only for…” He trailed off, unsure, but I smiled, knowing what he was trying to say.

It was a place made for the burial of royalty. Typically the only ones who could be honored there would be my parents, myself… and my wife.

“She saved my life.” My words were simple, but the servant flinched away from me, bowing.

“It shall be done, Your Highness.” He left to make arrangements, and I stared at the young woman once more.

We had only met once, but she had left such a deep impression on me. What would it have been like if we had lived side by side?

I closed my eyes, grieving. “If there is another life, Lenora. Let me help you in that one. If I’m fortunate enough to meet you again… let me fall in love with you. Let’s get married, and live a happy life. I won’t lose you next time, alright?”

I opened my eyes but the scene before me hadn’t changed, I stood up, staring at her face for the last time.

“Goodbye.”

______________________________

In another life…

“Nate!” A small hand waved in front of my face and I caught it in my own, laughing. Looking up, Lenora was smiling at me, all traces of the troubles she had recently been through long since faded away.

“Yes?” I continued holding her hand, watching with interest as her normally confident expression faltered, her cheeks flushing a bright red. She shook her head slowly, as if trying to clear it.

“Do you believe me?” Her voice was quieter than I was used to, a tone of uncertainty in it that tore at my heart. I reached out, pulling her in with a tight hug.

“Of course.” It was a fantastical tale. She had lived and died, being reborn five years earlier and given a second chance to change her fate. If it were anyone else I would laugh, call them crazy.

But this was Lenora.

The strange, beautiful girl who saw things too clearly. Who sacrificed herself at a moment’s notice to prevent anyone from starving within her duchy. Who had stared at her fiancé and best friend betraying her with tired eyes, as if it were only to be expected. If anything, her actions, her pain, made a horrifying amount of sense.

“Do you regret how this life turned out?” I kept hugging her, my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

I loved her.

Even at our ridiculous first introduction when she grabbed my arm, frightening me by demanding my clothes, she had unknowingly become an irreplaceable presence in my heart. Each moment I spent with her from then on, from arguing with her day after day in lessons with Jim, to helping her gather resources to build a fortune, I fell further and further, unable to escape how I felt and without desire to. Whether we were fighting, or agreeing, or working together she had always truly seen me.

I still thought this might be a dream. That her telling me she loved me too, agreeing to marry me might be a fantasy my desperate mind cooked up. But here she was, by my side, smiling.

I hoped she was happy.

“No. I like this ending much better.” She grinned, leaning up and kissing my cheek. I felt myself turn red, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh.

“Still, it seems really unfair.” I frowned at her. “You knew everyone else in your previous life. Even Rig and Marile were close to you. But you didn’t know me?”

Lenora shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips as I pouted. “I’m pretty sure I would have remembered you.”

“Well, if I had known you in the previous life, I would like to think I would have tried to help you.” The thought made me curious. A life that only Lenora could remember. A life where we never met.

What kind of person would I be, if I hadn’t met her when I did? She had changed my life so much already…

“Well, I guess you’ll have to work even harder in this life, since you didn’t get a chance to know me last time.” She teased me, but her eyes widened with shock as I let go of her, kneeling on the floor in front of her with a solemn expression.

“I promise to try my hardest as your future husband to make you happy in this lifetime, so you won’t regret it.” I reached out, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, enjoying the sight of her being flustered. I was usually the one who got embarrassed first.

“THIS IS SO CUTE!”

A shout caught both of our attention. To my shock there was a whole group of people hanging behind the cracked door of the room. Hallers and Rig, with serious expressions, had their hands clapped over Lady Erica’s mouth, who had obviously been the one shouting. Marile and the Queen stood nearby, pretending that they hadn’t been spying.

As they let go of her, Lady Erica rushed forward, hugging us both, before grabbing the Queen and Marile to immediately discuss wedding plans. I watched them with a smile, sitting back down next to Lenora, ignoring Rig and Hallers’ cold stares at the closeness between us. I broke out in a cold sweat at the intensity of their gazes, but held on to Lenora’s hand, refusing to move.

She chuckled at their expressions, waving them to sit down. “Stop trying to scare him.”

“He’s a very lucky man, Miss.” Hallers spoke quietly. I fought the urge to hide behind my fiancé at his tone. “We’ll have to have a… talk… with His Royal Highness before the wedding of course.”

Rig cracked his knuckles, grinning. “Yes. A talk. Just so he understands how our girl needs to be treated.”

“I look forward to it.” I lied, hiding my terror.

Lenora burst out laughing, and unknowingly the whole room smiled at her. I squeezed her hand.

“Thank you.”

For looking at me when no one else did. For loving me. For using a second chance at life to spend it with me.

She smiled in response. “Let’s make a new future.”

I nodded, agreeing. “Okay.”

And we would build a new future. Side by side.

Together.

#writing #i can't eat love #side part 1 #Nate's side #a little past #a little future #Rig is next

188 notes · View notes

thetravelerwrites · 5 years

Text

Harlan (White Bison Minotaur)

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Minotaur x Female Human Additional Tags: Exophilia, Minotaur Boyfriend, Monster Boyfriend, Reader Insert, Friends to Enemies to Lovers Content Warnings: Sex, Kinks, Light Bondage, BDSM, Sex Toys, Spanking, Whipping, Pegging, Ass Play, Female Dom, Male Sub, Biting, Safe Sex, Condoms Words: 6746

Another commission and more art by @oddacle! A young woman trying to move up in her company is disappointed when she's passed over for a promotion for her best friend, but it's a development in his love life that forces her to distance herself from him. Please leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Heard about the promotion yet?” You asked Harlan over the lunch in your office.

“Only rumors,” he replied, eating his salad like he’d gone three days without food. “With Canus leaving to start his directing career, it leaves a spot open for a new Senior Content Director.”

“I want that promotion,” You told him vehemently, stabbing at your plate of pasta. “I’ve been at this company for years and I’ve worked my ass off. I deserve it.”

“You can have it,” He said, chuckling. “I’m fine where I am. This company already treats me like the sun and moon live in my ballsack. I don’t need anymore ‘special favors’.”

Easy for you to say, You thought to yourself bitterly, though you’d never say that to him out loud.

Harlan was an absolutely massive white bison minotaur, handsome and sweet, with bright red eyes, long pearly horns, a pale blonde beard decorated with braids and beads. He stood head and shoulders above you, and everyone else, even without the horns. He’d been your best friend since college, and you both had applied for this job at the same time after graduating.

White bison minotaurs were an extremely rare, and as such, people bent over backwards to make them happy. People put high value on creatures who were rare, seeing them as paragons of good fortune, so Harlan was used to getting anything he wanted; he didn’t even have to ask for it. Despite being close friends with him, you had always resented the fact the people just handed him anything he wanted for no other reason than he was considered lucky.

But this was different. This promotion would prove your worth at the company, and you would have done it with your own wit, determination, and effort. No one was going to take it from you.

“It’s still just a rumor at this point,” Harlan said, watching your face. “Don’t get your hopes up. The higher-ups may just close ranks. They did it last time someone retired.”

“I’m working on a big get for the streaming service,” You said, shaking your head. “You’ve heard about Rebel Yell, right?”

“Wasn’t that that dystopian show that got canceled halfway through the second season a year ago that has a huge cult following?” Harlan asked.

“Yep,” You said. “I’ve been talking to the creators of that show, and they want to continue working on it. I’m negotiating a renewal deal as well as buying the rights to run the original episodes on Binge.”

“That would be huge!” Harlan said, excited. “Subscriber projections would be through the roof if you managed to get that. They’d be insane not to promote you.”

“Exactly,” You said pointedly. “I’m so close to it, I can taste it.”

“Well, you deserve it,” Harlan said, wiping his mouth. “But you’ve also been working too hard lately. We haven’t hung out outside of work in months. Let’s get a beer tonight.”

“Can’t. I’ve got to double down on this acquisition. I’m not going to let it slip through my fingers like I did with Keepers. That one set me back months.”

“After, then. Promise?”

You sighed. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

He stood up and threw his plastic salad tray in the garbage, and stared at you judiciously.

“Do you ever think about quitting this job?” He asked you.

“What?” You replied, appalled. “No! I’ve spent the last seven years getting to where I am in this company. I’m not going to throw it away when I’m this close to a lead position.” You looked back at him, frowning. “Do you think about it?”

“Sometimes,” He admitted. “I just… I don’t feel like I’ve earned any of this. They keep pushing me into higher positions with no training, throwing me into projects I don’t know anything about, and every time I make a mistake, they just brush it off and blame it on someone else. I feel like everyone resents me here, even you.”

You stayed silent and didn’t meet his eye. You loved the big guy, but he wasn’t wrong. When you started your internship at Styx Media, which was the owner of Binge Streaming Service as well as a production studio for indie films, it had taken years for you to find a foothold and climb out of the archives, whereas Harlan had been promoted in less than a month.

It was infuriating. You’d had to fight and claw to get to where you were. Harlan was no more skilled than you. In fact, he was less so, since most of college he goofed off and yet somehow managed to make valedictorian. Even now that the two of you had equal positions in the company, he was still making more money than you. He often offered to help, but you refused. You didn’t need his charity.

“Got to get back,” He said, changing the subject. “Jensen has some kind of advertising project he wants me to help him with.”

“You mean, do for him? Jensen is a leech,” You said dismissively.

“Yeah,” Harlan sighed. “I may have gotten this job on merit, but I still want to do well. Helping Jensen is the least I can do.”

And now you felt like an asshole.

“Harlan,” You called after him as he started down the hall.

“Yeah?” He asked, poking his head back in.

“Let’s do pizza and beer tonight,” You said.

He smiled crookedly. “You sure? You won’t be too busy?”

“I think I can spare a few minutes to have a beer with my best friend,” You said.

He grinned widely at you, ducking his head. “It’s a date.” He disappeared down the hall, the beads in his blonde beard clinking against each other as he walked.

That evening, you met him at your favorite pizza place and ordered two slices and a house beer with a lime wedge. He ordered an entire veggie pizza and a pitcher of lager to himself.

“How’s Jensen’s advert project?” You asked him.

“No shop talk at dinner,” He said sternly, booping your nose before picking up a slice and folding it in half. “Besides, I’d rather hear about what you’re doing when you’re not at work. Feels like we haven’t caught up in a while about our non-work lives.”

“What non-work life? Work is my life.”

“That’s kind of what I’m worried about,” He said. “You do know there’s more to life than work, right?

“Not for me,” You said, sipping your beer. “Not till I’m in that corner office with a legion of people working under me. I have a goal and I’m so close to reaching it. I’m not giving up.”

“I’m not saying you should, I just think you need something else in your life. Like…” He sighed and sat back. “Like, maybe, us.”

“Us?” You echoed. “What do you mean, us?”

“You and me. Dating.”

Your head rocked back. “What?”

“I think it could work,” He said, looking sincere. “You and me have been friends forever, and I think we could be really good together.”

You gaped at him. “You’re serious. You want to date?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Is that so weird?”

You sighed unhappily. “Harlan… you’re my best friend and you know I love you, but… I don’t have time for a relationship. My job comes first and I can’t compromise my work ethic for anything or anyone. Not even you.”

Harlan was silent for a minute. “So… your job is more important to you than our eleven-year-long friendship.”

“I…” You tried to argue with that, but you weren’t completely sure that wasn’t true.

“It’s fine,” He said, not meeting your eye. “I figured you’d say no, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.” He flagged down a waitress and asked for a to-go box, throwing some money on the table.

“Harlan, I…”

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” He said, taking his half-eaten pizza and walking out of the restaurant.

Things were a little weird between you and Harlan for the next week, but during that time, you’d managed to secure the Rebel Yell deal, which was a huge win for your department. They even threw you a party.

During the party, as everyone was milling around, eating cake and drinking champagne, you approached Harlan for the first time since the pizza place.

“Hey,” You said hesitantly.

“Hey, there,” He said, smiling at you. “Congrats on the deal.”

“Thanks,” You replied. “Listen, I want to apologize about the other night. Of course you’re important to me, but my career is important to me, too. I just hope you don’t think it means that I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” He said, patting your shoulder. “I’ve always known your career was your priority. I was being selfish. Besides,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve actually met someone.”

Your heart thudded against your chest and your brain blanked for a moment. Cold washed over you. Your lungs forgot how to breathe.

When you regained composure, you said. “Oh, that’s great! What’s their name?”

“His name is Greg, he works in I.T. He’s nice, I think you’d like him.”

“I’m sure I would.” Stupid Greg.

“I felt this instant connection to him, you know? Just like,” He snapped his fingers. “Like that. We’ve only been on three dates, but I think this could be a serious thing.”

“I’m happy for you, man,” You said, giving him a playful slap on the arm. “He sounds great.”

He laughed shyly. “Yeah. Seems like we’re both getting what we want, huh?” He gave you a quick squeeze before walking off, meeting a tallish man with a ponytail and kissing him on the cheek.

“Yeah,” you said, watching him. “Seems like.”

Harlan introduced you to Greg, who seemed nice enough. You still didn’t like him, though, but you had to convince yourself that it wasn’t because you were jealous. You’d turned Harlan down; you didn’t have any right to be jealous.

A few weeks passed as normal as they could. You were trying to keep your mind on your work, finding new content for Binge and investing in new creators, but Harlan kept creeping back into your thoughts. It wasn’t like he hadn’t dated people before, but there was something different this time. Maybe it was because he had told you he wanted to date you, or maybe it was because his relationship with Greg seemed to be moving like a bullet train, but whatever it was, it made you uneasy.

The two of you managed to keep your friendship steady, although he had lunch with you less and less often. He still called and texted everyday to talk, or sent you an email when he wasn’t busy. You couldn’t understand why all of a sudden it felt like you’d swallowed something burning whenever you heard his voice or read his texts.

Finally, at one of the morning board meetings, your boss, Mr. Richardson, stood up and called for silence.

“Alright, now, I know you’ve all heard rumors that there is a promotion up for grabs,” He said, and there was a murmur among those sitting at the table. He waved his hands to calm them. “I know you’ve all been dying to know who’s going to get the open Content Director position, but we wanted to take some time, observe your performances individually, and one of you stood out. One of you exemplifies what this company is trying to do. And today, that person will be rewarded for their hard work.”

You took a breath and swallowed, your heart in your throat.

“Congratulations, Harlan!”

The whole table cheered as Harlan froze, wide-eyed. The anger rose up in your chest, but you forced yourself to clap along with everyone else. Harlan’s eyes cut to you, and you looked away, your jaw working. He knew you were pissed.

“Get up here, Harlan!” Mr. Richardson said, and Harlan reluctantly got up from his seat and joined him at the head of the table, shaking his hand a little awkwardly. “Get used to calling this guy ‘boss’ from now on.”

Harlan looked like he would rather be anywhere else, but he plastered a smile on his face while everyone congratulated him.

Later, back in your office, you were trying to complete some work, but your anger blinded you. You finally gave up and just sat back in your chair with your eyes closed, trying to calm yourself.

A knock at your door opened your eyes, and you said, “Come in.”

Harlan slowly poked his head in. “Uh, hey.”

“Hey,” You said flatly. “Congrats on the promotion.”

He sighed. “You okay?”

“Me?” You asked, getting up to put files that you should be working on away in a cabinet. “Yeah, I’m great. I’m just great. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I am worried about you,” Harlan said pleadingly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Why are you even here?” You asked him, looking up at him for the first time since he came in. “Shouldn’t you be settling in to your new corner office? Don’t you have a new job to do?”

“I don’t want this job!” He protested.

“You didn’t exactly turn it down, did you?”

He sighed. “Greg… thinks I should take it. He thinks it’s a good opportunity for me.”

“Oh, well, if it’s what Greg thinks…” You said sarcastically.

“I thought you liked Greg,” Harlan said.

“This isn’t about Greg!” I retorted. “Could… Could you just… leave, please? I need time to deal with this.”

He hesitated. “When you stop being mad, let’s talk, okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” You said dismissively. “Go. I have work to do.”

He disappeared and you was left alone in your dinky office with poor lighting, surrounded by work that wasn’t going to get done that day.

Before the end of the work day, Mr. Richardson called you into his office.

“Hey, there, wanted to talk to you for a second,” He said as you came in.

“What about, sir?”

He got up and sat on the edge of his desk. “Look, I’m not blind. I know you wanted that senior position and you fought hard for it. But the decision came from higher up. It wasn’t my call. If it had been up to me, you’d have gotten that job.”

“Thanks sir, that means a lot.” You replied.

“In fact, that’s actually wanted to talk to you about,” He continued. “We have another senior position available, but it’s at our London office. It’s yours if you want it.”

My eyebrows climbed. “Seriously, sir?”

“Seriously. You interested?”

You put a hand to your head. It was exactly what you wanted. But… in another country? Leave everything behind? Your family, friends… Harlan?

“Can I have a little time to think about it, sir?” You asked.

“Sure, but don’t take too long. There’s a few people vying for this job, although not as qualified. If you hold out too long, it’ll go to one of them.”

“I understand, sir,” You said, holding out a hand. “Thank you so much for recommending me.”

He shook your hand. “Don’t thank me. Your work speaks for itself. They’d be lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, sir, I appreciate this more than you know.”

The next day, early in the morning, you got in early to work on the files you hadn’t done the day before, and Harlan met you at your office door.

“Before you--” He started, but you stopped him.

“Don’t worry about it, Harlan,” You said. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” He asked trepidatiously.

“No. I thought about it. There are other opportunities for me. There’s no point in being pissed at you.”

“Great,” He said in a relieved exhaled. “Because I wanted to tell you something, and I was afraid you wouldn’t talk to me.” He pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket. “You’re my best friend and I wanted you to know first.”

You took the envelope he gave you, which was gold with embossed white lettering. Opening it, you found a card that said You Are Cordially Invited to the Wedding of-- and you stopped reading. Your heart dropped into your toes. Pins and needles stabbed at your spine and a stone lodged itself in your stomach.

“I know it’s only been two months, but I love Greg very much. I want you to be my best man. Or woman. Or whatever.”

“Wow,” You managed to say. “I’m… I’m so happy for you.” You pulled him into a hug so he couldn’t see your face.

“So will you? Be my best man, I mean?” He asked you.

“Of course,” You forced out. “I’d be happy to.”

You held him long enough to put something that resembled a smile on your face and released him. He grinned his great, big, sweet grin at you, and the knife twisted.

“Well, I’ve got some more invites to hand out, but I wanted to make sure you got yours first.” He pulled you into another hug and said. “Thanks. Love you.” And made for the elevator with a departing grin.

You went into your office, locked the door, and cried. You don’t know how long you were on the floor, sobbing into your knees, but you stopped when you heard people out in the main area. Getting yourself together, you wiped your face, reapplied your eyeliner, walked out of your office, and marched into Mr. Richardson’s office.

“What’s up? Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’ll take it. I’ll take the London job.”

June 14, 10:25 A.M.: Hey! How are you settling in? Is London as awesome as you thought it was? Call me when you get a chance. June 16, 3:22 P.M.: Hey bud, I wanted to ask you about some wedding details. Are you going to bring a plus one? We’re working on the seating chart. Call me later. June 20, 7:02 P.M.: You doing okay? How’s the new job? I know you’re probably busy, but message me when you get a chance, okay? Miss you, buddy. June 21, 9:19 P.M.: Missed Call from Harlan June 23, 5:47 P.M.: Missed Call from Harlan July 4, 10:34 P.M.: Wish you were here. The fireworks are awesome this year. July 10, 6:54 P.M.: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while. Just text me and let me know if you’re alright. July 10, 7:01 P.M.: If there’s something wrong, you can tell me. We’re still friends, right? Call me. July 10, 7:25 P.M.: Missed Call from Harlan July 28, 2:56 P.M.: I called your office today. They said you were busy. Are you avoiding me? Why? Did I do something? Talk to me. August 3, 12.01 A.M.: Happy Birthday! August 3, 8:23 A.M.: Missed Call from Harlan August 3, 11:31 A.M.: Missed Call from Harlan August 3, 2:59 P.M.: Missed Call from Harlan August 3, 5:49 P.M.: Why aren’t you answering my calls? August 15, 6:20 P.M.: Look, just send me one text, okay? Just one so that I know you’re okay. September 8, 2:46 P.M.: It’s kind of bullshit that you got this big, new job and won’t speak to me anymore. If you don’t want anything to do with me, the least you could do is call me and tell me yourself. You’re being a coward by ignoring me. September 8; 3:04: P.M.: Fine. Have a nice life. December 13, 1:58 A.M.: Listen, I know you’ve got your own stuff going on right now, but I could really use a friend. Please call me. Please.

That was the last text you got from Harlan. You almost broke and replied, but the sting of hearing his voice would have been too much.

Nearly a year after getting the job in London, during which it took some time to get used to living in a different country, you were invited to a conference to discuss the success of the international campaigns and to encourage further expansion back in the US. You were worried you’d run into Harlan, but this was a work function, and as Content Director, it was pretty much mandatory.

Being back in the states was weird, but the familiarity was comforting. You got your key to your room and went up, intending on taking a quick nap to get rid of the jetlag. It ended up being a nine hour coma. You woke at three in the morning starving.

The only thing open in the hotel was the bar, which had basic bar food and you figured it was good enough. You threw on a comfy shirt and a pair of jeans and headed down to the lobby. There were more people in the bar than you expected to be at this hour, but then again, there was a huge conference going on. Lots of people had problems with public speaking, yourself included, and needed some liquid courage to get themselves on stage.

You sat at a table and ordered a beer with a lime wedge and some nachos, which would tide you over until breakfast. As you sat, waiting for your beer and food, feeling… a lot of things. You’d grown up in this town and coming back home had brought up a lot of memories. You’d driven past the playground where you spent most of your Saturdays as a kid, past your old office and the pizza place where Harlan had suggested the two of you start dating, past the campus where the two of you had gone to school.

You didn’t even know why, but you could feel tears welling up in your eyes.You hadn’t realized how homesick you were until you actually came home.

A shadow fell over you, and a hand set a plate of nachos and a beer in front of you.

“You and your lime wedges,” A familiar voice said.

Through your tears, you looked up in horror and saw Harlan standing in front of you, wearing a t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it and a pair of extremely tight black jeans.

You weren’t proud of it, but you ran. You ran out of the bar and into the elevator, escaping back to your room. You closed the door and bent over, gripping your knees and gasping for breath.

A banging on your door startled you, and you jumped.

“Let me in!” You heard Harlan say. “I know you’re in there! Let me in! Stop avoiding me!”

“Go away!” You yelled.

“This is because of the promotion, isn’t it! You’re still pissed that they gave the job you wanted to me, aren’t you! Well, you can feel better about yourself now because I quit months ago!”

“What?” That shocked You into opening the door, where he was standing, still wearing the bar attire. You suddenly put two and two together. “You quit? Why the hell would you quit? That was our dream job.”

“It was your dream job that I sniped out from under you and I never stopped feeling guilty about that.” He said.

“You didn’t have to feel guilty about it, I got a better job, so you were welcome to that one!” You shouted.

“I never cared about that job!” He yelled back. “I never cared about that company! I only applied when you did so I could be close to you!”

You was stunned into silence, your mouth hanging open.

“Look, can I come in, or do you want to conduct this shouting match in the hallway?” He asked. Wordlessly, you stepped aside. He came in and sat down on your bed, his hands clasped between his knees.

“What are you talking about, you only applied for me?” You asked him.

He sighed and cocked his head in irritation. “Everyone, every single person I’ve ever known, has treated me like some good luck charm. My whole life, people have gotten close to me because they thought that I could do something for them, that by being near me, they could share this luck I’m supposed to have. They thought it could get them good grades or a good job or whatever they wanted. You were the only person who didn’t seem like you gave a shit about that. You were the only person who wanted to be my friend for me, and not what I could do for you.”

He stopped talking and stared at his hands, which were shaking.

“I applied at Styx because I wanted to stay with you, the only person who treated me like a person and not a walking, talking rabbit’s foot. So when you shut me out after going to London, it felt like you had used me to get where you wanted, just like everyone else.”

“Oh…” You said. “Oh… no, Harlan, that wasn’t it at all.”

“Then what was it?” He asked, getting angry. “Why did you just start ignoring me once you got that corner office, huh? What made you so busy that you could send me one text? That you could pick up the phone? No one else had a problem getting a hold of you! So why couldn’t you talk to me?”

“I…” You swallowed, your throat tight. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why?” He said, getting up and advancing on me. “Why can’t you tell me? I thought we were friends! I thought you actually cared about me! But you’re just like everyone else. You just like the company! You’re just like my parents! You’re just like Greg!”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, your brow furrowing in confusion. “I thought you and Greg were getting married.”

“If you had picked up or answered any of my texts, you’d have known that Greg left me,” Harlan said, angry tears in his eyes. “He left when I quit. He just wanted the life being a big-shot got me. He didn’t want me, he wanted the money. The lifestyle.”

“I… I’m so sorry, Harlan,” You said quietly. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have, would you?” He said loudly, his tears spilling down his cheek. “You never bothered to check, did you? You went off and couldn’t have given a shit about me.”

“That’s not true!” You yelled.

“Then how! Tell me how you could just write me out of your life like the last decade meant nothing! What did I do that offended you so much, you just had to get away from me and never talk to me again? Tell me!”

“You got engaged!” You blurted out, pushed to tears yourself. You stepped away and gripped you hair. He was never supposed to know.

“What?” He said, confused. “But… you said… you said you didn’t want…”

“And I didn’t,” You replied. “When you started dating Greg, I figured it was no big deal. I hadn’t ever care when you dated before because they never got serious. But when you got engaged… I… I just… It felt like I’d been shot. And you asked me to stand at your wedding, and I wanted to be there for you, but the thought of standing beside you while you married someone else made me want to die. So… I ran. I ran away. It’s all I could think to do.”

You turned to see him staring at you in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You laughed mirthlessly, wiping your nose and sniffling. “What was I supposed to say, Harlan? ‘You can’t get married because I’m in love with you but I didn’t realize it until you got engaged? Oh, and you have to choose between me and your new fiance?’ Is that what you’d have wanted me to do?”

“No, but…” He stood up and approached you, looking down at you. “You’re really in love with me?”

“Yes, I am,” You admitted reluctantly, staring at his chest and not his face, fearing his reaction. “I just didn’t--”

You were cut off by him picking you up bodily and pushing you up against the wall, kissing you hard. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you kissed him back, grabbing handfuls of the fur on his neck and tugging him closer to you. It wasn’t gentle; by the time you broke apart for air, both of your lips were bleeding.

“I’m so sorry,” You said, breathing hard. “I’m sorry I shut you out and left. I’ve never been in love before and it scared the shit out of me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay,” He said, hugging me close. “It’s okay. We can start over.” He held you up by tilting his hips up and removed his shirt. He then took your shirt and pulled it over your head, revealing your exposed torso. He pressed his lips to your breast, sucking it into his mouth, and you gripped his horns, moaning breathily.

You jumped down and unbuckled his belt, opened up his pants, and reached inside. He groaned as your hand encircled his length, already straining against the tight fabric of his jeans.

“Let me apologize properly,” You said, getting ready to kneel down, but he stopped you.

“No,” He said, shaking his head. “People always want to please me and I’m sick of it. What can I do to please you? That’s what I want. I want to please you.”

You bit your lip and smiled slightly. “Really?”

“Yes,” He said. “Tell me what you want.”

“Okay,” You said, thinking. “Take off the rest of your clothes.” He hurriedly started to undress, and you said, “No, slowly.”

He grinned and began stripping, making a show of it, while you leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, watching. Eventually he stood there, nude and glorious, and you pushed yourself off the wall and walked up to him.

“Now take off my clothes,” You told him. He knelt down and took of your shoes, socks, pants and underwear. He started to stand, and you said, “No, stay there.” And he stopped and returned to his knees.

“Put your hands behind your back.” You said.

He complied. You went to your luggage and found your sturdiest pair of leggings, and tied his hands behind his back.

“Hurt?” You asked.

“No,” He said.

“Good,” You said, and settled in a chair just across from where he was kneeling. Using your foot, you traced a line down his body, starting from his lips, down his neck, chest, abdomen, and just above his cock, which pulsed and jumped in his lap. Harlan was breathing hard, but he stayed still. You pulled your foot away and slowly opened your legs, resting your heels on the arms of the chair, and reached a hand between them, slowly circling your bud, making sure Harlan was watching.

Oh, he was watching: he was practically drooling. You slowly rocked your hips against your hand, the muscles in your thighs tensing and relaxing as you did.

“Let me--” He began, but you stopped him with the ball of your foot.

“No talking unless I tell you,” You said, and he clamped his lips shut.

Your fingers sped up, and you moaned and writhed, watching him the entire time. His muscles were straining against the restrains and he looked desperate to touch, but he obeyed and stayed still.

“You’re being a very good boy,” You told him. “How about you use that tongue of yours as a reward.”

He wasted no time in scooting closer and pressing his long, flat tongue against your slit, licking and sucking enthusiastically. You gasped, grasping his mane and pulling, and he moaned against you.

He had an extremely talented tongue, and your legs were shaking in a matter of minutes. You cried out over and over, not really caring if your neighbors could hear you.

“Make me cum,” You gasped. He was happy to obey, and within another few seconds, a wave of ecstasy hit you and you pulled harder on his hair.

“Stop!” You ordered, and he pulled away as you relaxed and tried to catch your breath. He sat in front of you, waiting for your next command.

“Go to the bed and lay down on your stomach,” You told him breathlessly. He stood and did as you told him, his hands still tied behind his back. You went back to your luggage and opened a special bag, taking out your favorite toy and a bottle of lube. You also took out your pack of condoms. Using condoms was the easiest way to keep your toys clean.

“Spread your legs,” You told him, and he complied.

You put a small amount of lube on your fingers and massaged his pucker, and he groaned against the blankets.

“Does this feel good?” You asked him, slowly inserting one finger.

“Oh, god, yes,” He said, his voice muffled.

You slapped a hand over his ass cheek hard, and he jumped and cried out.

“You want more?”

“Yes, please,” He begged.

You took the toy and covered it in a condom, then slicked it down with lube, and placed it against his entrance, slowly pushing into him. He whimpered over and over and it disappeared inside him. You pulled out and pushed it back in a few times before letting rest fully seated. He clenched down on it.

You got your belt out from the bag. You bent down and sank your teeth into his right cheek, not enough to break the skin but enough to leave an impression. His body tensed and he moaned loudly. Your rubbed the bite mark before slapping it, and he grunted sharply.

“More?” You asked.

“Yes!” He shouted.

You lay the belt on the bed where he could see it.

“You want this?” You asked him.

He nodded, but you grabbed his snout to stop him.

“Say it.”

“Yes, I want it,” He breathed.

You got back off the bed and poised yourself behind him, holding the belt in your grip. Carefully, you bent the belt double and reared back, cracking him across the ass. Your first strike was tentative, but he groaned appreciatively and said, “Harder, please!”

The next strike had more power behind it, and by the time you were done, he had several red welts across his ass. He was breathing heavily and moaning, and thanking you profusely. The toy stayed firmly in place the entire time.

You crawled on the bed and lay down next to him.

“You okay?” You asked him, caressing his face.

“Yes,” He said, kissing your palm.

“I’m going to have to get a harness and fuck you silly,” You said, pressing your thumb against his lips.

“I would greatly enjoy that,” He said, kissing your thumb and sucking on it.

“Are you done or can you keep going?” You asked him.

“I’ll go as long as you want me to, Boss,” He said.

You grinned. “Call me that again.”

“Fuck me, Boss,” He said.

“Mmm,” You moaned, biting your lip. “That sounds really good.” You sat up and untied his hands. “Lay back on the bed and put your hands above your head.”

“Yes, Boss,” He said, doing as you told him without hesitation.

You tied his hands to the headboard securely and kissed your way down his body. When you got to his cock, you stroked it for a minute before grabbing the lube and condoms. You tore open a wrapper with your teeth and rolled the condom down onto his member, checking for holes, and then lubed him up. You crawled up his body to kiss him.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Yes, Boss,” He said obediently.

You grinned at him as you sank down onto him. He was big, bigger than any of your toys, but the feeling of being completely filled from bottom to top was mind-blowing. You ground against him for a minute, during which his eyes rolled back and he grunted.

You bounced against him, your hands braced on his chest, your breasts rolling with every thrust down. You lowered your body while riding him and bit down hard at his nipple, and his body rose up underneath you. He shouted loudly.

“Too much?” You gasped.

“No, Boss!” He cried out.

You licked the nipple you had bitten, and he moaned.

“Keep moaning,” You told him, rocking against him faster. He obeyed. God, you loved it when he obeyed. You moved at a frenetic pace and he rolled his hips in time with your thrusts. He pulsed inside you and you clenched around him. The pleasure rose up and hit you just as hard as it had before, doubled by the sensation of him cumming inside you and the delicious sounds he made.

As the pleasure ebbed, you collapsed onto his chest, gasping for breath. He was just as winded as you.

“Are you okay, Harlan?” You asked.

“I’m incredible,” He said. “No one has ever done that for me. They always want me to be in control.”

“You liked it, then?” You asked as you sat up, fighting the vertigo.

“Oh, god, I loved it,” He said. “That was the best.”

“Good to know,” You said, reaching up to untie his hands. As soon as they were free, he hugged you tightly, kissing your face.

You felt him soften and slowly fall out of you, and said, “Let’s get cleaned up.” You got off of him and pulled the toy out of him. He groaned softly.

He got up after you and pulled the loaded condom off, disposing it in the trash. You took the one off the toy and threw it away as well. In the bathroom, you washed the toy and dried it, then put it, the condoms, and the lube back in their special bag.

In the bathroom, Harlan had started a shower and held out his hand to help you into it, then stepped in after you and closing the curtain. You rubbed his bruised behind and the bite marks on his chest, and he caressed your skin and kissed your shoulder.

“How did you even know what room I was in?” You asked.

He laughed. “I told the front desk you ran out on your tab.”

“Won’t your boss be wondering where you are?”

“You’re my boss, Boss,” He said with a smirk. “Besides, I don’t care about that job. I only enjoyed working when I was working with you.”

“Aww,” You tsked. “I wish we could work together again. I’m sorry I took a job so far away. I didn’t realize how homesick I’d be.”

“Come back to work with Styx in the States again,” He said.

You sighed. “That feels like a step back. A demotion. I want something else.”

“Like what?” He asked, scrubbing your back.

It hit you like a bolt of lightning. Of course, it was so fucking obvious.

“Like starting my own media company.”

He stopped and turned you. “Wait. Are you serious?”

“Yes! I hate working for other people, I want to be the boss, you know that. That’s why I’ve been fighting and clawing my way to the top of Styx. But starting my own company, I’d be the boss from the beginning.” You scratched his chin under his beard and his eyes closed in pleasure. “Want to be my partner?”

His eyes opened wide. “What, really? You want me to be co-owner?”

“Yeah! Between my expertise and drive and your natural charisma, I think we’d be an unstoppable team!” You bit your lip. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” He said. “Are you only talking about being business partners or… are you saying you want to be with me?”

You grabbed a fistful of his beard and tugged him down. “Are you questioning me?”

“No, Boss,” He said, his eyes sparking.

“Good,” You replied, kissing him. “Because you’re mine. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Boss,” He said, smiling.

You kissed him deeply while the water ran over the two of you. In a few hours you’d be giving a speech about international synergy, and after that you’d be tendering your resignation. But you knew this was the right step. You and Harlan were going to do great things together, but most importantly, you’d be together, just like you were always meant to be.

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#Exophilia #Minotaur #Minotaur Boyfriend #Monster Boyfriend #Lemon #Friends to Lovers #Interspecies Relationship #Reader Insert #Reader-Insert #Female Dom #Male Sub #My Writing #Commissions #Oddacle

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hxneymoonn · 5 years

Audio

[short AU fanfic about Anne & Phillip, enjoy]

“Anne.” His voice echoed throughout the deserted building, bouncing off of every locker along the corridor. “Anne!”

She let her back face him, keeping her gaze only on the double door in front of her. Each step was painful, it crushed her soul but it was needed. She had to leave. Her palms enclosed around the cool, metal handle pushing it down to escape to the outside.

It was dark outside and the high school was supposed to be closed, no students were meant to be on site. Not like that stopped Anne, when she needed her time to feel at peace there was only one place she could go; Charity’s office.

His pace quickened as he hurried to catch up with her, before she was gone forever. It didn’t make sense, how could see just leave? After everything that happened between them, everything she said to him, every way she acted: it showed love.

"What is it Anne?" His words rang loud in her head. Anne only shook them away with a slight sigh, moving her feet along the path. It was raining, the weather had been acting unusual lately and it was predicted that a storm was coming to consume the town. "Huh, talk to me. Don't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" Her voice was as cold as ice. Anne gazed back, letting her eyes lock with his. The plain expression on her face, hiding a channel of secrets. She shrugged, rolling her eyes with irritation. "I'm walking away from you Phillip, because your voice is-"

“Bullshit!” Phillip never swore, until now. “I refuse to fall for your act again.”

Anne raised an eyebrow with confusion. “What act?”

“You act like nothing bothers you, like you don’t care about anything.” His voice grew loud not wanting to get washed away in the screams of rain that fell on the two of them. “And when something or someone catches you out on your act, you disappear Anne.”

“I never disappear; you just don’t know me to know where I would be.” She spat, hoping her harsh tone would create a bigger wall between them.

“Then let me know you,” Phillip replied. The desperation was as clear as day in his voice, he was in love with her. Despite, her continuous insults that she threw at him every day or the countless of times he almost died, Phillip knew that this girl, Anne, was his destiny. He felt drawn to her, the mystery and the never knowing of her next move, he was completely under her spell and yet he didn’t even know her last name.

No one knew her last name. No one knew Anne.

She just turned back around, walking to her car. He followed her and she knew of it. "Quit with the stalking Phillip."

"Anne, stop this." Phillip practically begged, his hand taking a hold of hers. He knew that she didn’t like to be touched, but that was the last thing on his mind at that moment. All he needed was her.

Anne flinched her hand away but his grip was stronger than hers, not strong enough to leave a mark or bruise but enough to keep her in place. His skin was soft, moistened from the rain. Her eyes fell down to her hand in his, then back at his face. “Give me my hand back, Phillip.”

"Anne." A loud sigh fell from Phillip’s lips. "You know I want you and I know you want me."

Her heart swelled but her face remained still. Yet, when she spoke again it was much quieter. “I need to go.”

“Anne-ˮ

“I need to go.” Anne tore her hand away from his, the cold air suffocating her skin that was previously heated by him. She stared at him a little longer, before walking away again.

And of course he followed. Phillip was not ready to let her go just yet. He needed to remind her of what had happened between them, when she had lowered those barriers that surrounded her.

“Did it all mean nothing?” His question made her feet abrupt to a holt. “Was I just a distraction in your act? A vessel to remind you of humanity.”

Phillip wasn’t that. He was different, he didn’t just remind of humanity, he made her feel human.

“Did you ever care about me, Anne?” His voice was close, he had caught up with her and his body was pressed against hers. His heartbeat thumping against her back and throughout her body.

“I did care.” Her words were barely a whisper, but he heard it as if it was a scream. Phillip spun her around, locking his gaze with hers.

“Say it again.”

Anne opened her mouth slightly, she was unsure whether it was the rain or not that made the lump in her throat. “I did care.”

“Then why do you act like this?” His arms engulfed her frame, shielding as much of her as he could from the rain. The rain still coated them, Phillip was no match with nature but Anne felt at whole in his arms.

Yet she knew it couldn’t be like this forever. Anne broke herself away from the safety of his arms, with a shake of her head. “You think it’s easy?” Her voice fell back to the previous artic tone. “You don’t know me, Phillip. Stay out of my life.”

“Then let me in Anne.” His frustration was becoming impossible to control but he knew that it had to stay concealed. “Let me get to know you, let me into your life.”

“You don’t want to be in a life like mine.” The artic tone had melted slightly.

He took a step closer to her. “It’s too late to say that now, Anne.”

Anne shook her head, the lump doubling in her throat and becoming difficult to swallow away. “It’s not too late.” She whispered. “You can go; you can’t be with someone like me.”

“Why not?” She didn’t answer him, which only elevating his interest. “Why not Anne? What are you so afraid of? It is okay to let yourself feel and to accept people into your life.”

“I can’t do that!” Her voice was as loud as the rain, grabbing Phillip’s complete attention. A sob escaped her lips as the lump continued to grow. She glanced up to him. “You think I don’t want to run to you. To feel safe in your arms, to let your stroke my hair until I fall sleep and feel your lips against my skin while your kiss me goodnight.”

Phillip feel speechless. Standing in front of him was not the Anne he knew, it was the Anne that she was hiding from the world. There she stood exposed for him to see. The broken, emotionally drained and afraid Anne. And it was this Anne that he wanted, he wanted to help her and most importantly to love her.

“Then come to me, Anne.” His arms extended for her.

A shakey breath came from her mouth and she took a step further away from him. "You can't fix what doesn't want to be fixed."

"Anne-"

"No Phillip!" Her shouts now held sobs that made him step closer to her. "It's not easy okay." Anne felt her voice shake and the tears leave her eyes, she desperately wiped them away. "It's not easy and I can't be with you."

"Anne, that's not true." Phillip took another step closer.

"I can't be the girl you want me to be."

“You already are that girl.” He told her, shifting closer until his hand fell onto her wet shoulder. "Anne-"

"Don't come any closer." Anne shook him away, her sight being blurred with tears and raindrops. Her voice still wobbling from the lump in her throat. "Just let me get out of this rain and go home."

"I'm in love with you, Anne." That was it. It was everything that he had left. Anne froze in her movements, shutting her eyes as her mind replayed his words on a constant loop. A familiar embrace surrounded her body and she didn’t shudder away from it. "I love you, Anne and I know you feel it too."

"Phillip-"

"Just let me in, Anne." Phillip begged. He could feel it in his bones that what they had between them was real, she just needed to realise. Phillip faintly drew her into him even more, her heartbeat now hitting his chest. Anne welcomed his actions and the coldness of the rain did not compare to the utter bliss and warmth she felt in his arms. “Just let me in.”

Anne lifted her head, he was already staring at her and she met his stare. "You don't want me Phillip." She said. "No one does. I can't be loved; I don't want to be loved."

"Why?" His voice broke ever so vaguely as he felt his heart crush. "Why can’t you let me love you?”

Another sob left her lips. “I can’t do it,” Her body shook, not from the harsh weather tearing at them, but from the battle to reframe from letting out more weeps. “If I love you, then I have to feel and if I feel..." Anne took a pause and inhaled slowly. "If I feel then it means I'll have to remember."

"Remember?” Phillip’s mind ran with thoughts, many of distress for Anne and what may have happened in her past to cause this. “Remember what Anne?”

“I don't want to remember." Her body was losing against the weeps and she separated herself from him, using her arms around to protect herself. Much like she had always done. “I can’t let myself remember.”

“Anne, what happened to you? What do you not want to remember?”

“I’m so sorry mum and dad, it was my fault you got into your car.” Her words left without any rational thinking and Phillip already knew a possible assumption. Anne kept letting her body lose, her arms hugging her body as she bawled for her loss.

It had been the first time in five years she had recalled of the accident, it had taken many years to perfect but she had completely blocked it out. Anne allowed herself to not care, not feel or show any emotion in case it led back to that memory.

A memory she always wanted to forget, but knew she never could.

Her therapists thought she had moved on, her progress within her sessions was improved and her meditation was kept up to date along with her dream journal. But it was all lies, Anne never took the pills, she lied to her therapists’ faces with a fake smile placed upon her lips. It was all a part of her act, much like Phillip said, show no emotion, feel no emotion and it worked for her. It helped distract her from the black hole that grew every day inside of her stomach.

“I’m not the one you were meant to find, Phillip.” She spoke after a few moments. “I can’t bring you into my messed up life.”

“Anne.” He didn’t know where to even begin. “I am so sorry, I had no idea,” Phillip hesitated but walked back over to her. “And I love you, which is why I am going to stay and I know that they did too, very much.”

Even though he knew it was a risk, he did it anyway. Bringing, his lips down to meet hers as his arms wrapped back around her. It threw her off guard, but Anne very much welcomed the soft texture that had once previous experienced; his lips against hers.

"Marianne." Her words were almost silent, but the distance had vanished between them so she knew that he heard her.

“Marianne.” Phillip repeated, he could see it in her eyes. This was her, this was Marianne not Anne. He brought his lips down to her forehead, planting a small and soft kiss. “It's beautiful."

"After the accident,” She paused, inhaling a shaky breath. "That's my name but I wanted to change after the accident. So I shorten my name and dropped my other names."

“What is your full name?”

“Marianne Wheeler.” Marianne spoke. She stretched up onto her tiptoes, kissing his cheek with a delicate, tender kiss. “You know I want you, Phillip." His lips lifted up into a smile. "And I love you too."

The smile extended on his face, coating most of it. "You-"

"But I can't have you." Her voice broke again and she shook her head. Phillip’s smiled dropped. "You don't want someone like me."

Marianne took a step away from him, dodging his arms that craved to hold her once more. She knew it was for the best, not matter how much it broke her heart. Her mind reminded her that they were bound to break and she didn’t need any more loss in her life, too much had already been lost. Marianne needed to forget about Phillip and Phillip needed to forget about her.

Phillip felt as if his heart had been torn out of his chest and dragged along the ground. He kept his lips shut, knowing that calling her would be no use. No matter what he shouted, no matter how must he plead, she was gone. He had meet Marianne for that blissful moment, he had kissed and loved Marianne.

But in front of him, he knew that he was watching Anne walk away from him and there was nothing he could do about it.

#the greatest show #the greatest showman #zendaya #zac efron #anne wheeler #anne wheeler x phillip carlyle #au #greatest showman #the greatest showman fanfic #one shot #love #rewrite the stars

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just-random-imagines · 5 years

Text

Save Me

IMAGINE: You and Bruce had always had your ups and downs, but hey, if you were dating Batman, wouldn’t you? But, the two of you hit a major rough patch, one that forced you to leave. It’s difficult to get over him, but hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day. How hard could it be? WORD COUNT: 2.7k

Batman.

Everyone knew who he was. The Dark Knight of Gotham City. He was their official/unofficial protector. He was loved by some and hated by others.

Bruce Wayne.

He was almost just as popular as the dark crusader. But just as hated. To some, he was just as heartless as the devil.

Combined, you knew them as your boyfriend. Yeah, your boyfriend. You knew the billionaire's habit of dressing up at night and fighting criminals. Nothing about it really bothered you. Only the nights he came home with awful looking wounds.

Other than his dark counterpart and his billionaire persona, you loved Bruce just the same. Underneath that tough exterior was a man in need of love. And you were the perfect person to supply it.

Or so you thought.

It all ended on a cloudy night. Gotham was quiet, as if it too knew what was to come. That didn't stop a handful of idiots attempting to break into Wayne Industries. As Bruce left to deal with them, you had given him a kiss for luck.

That would be the last kiss you would have given him in a long time.

"Hey Bruce," you greet the billionaire as he entered the kitchen. You quickly grabbed a mug of coffee you prepared for your boyfriend and held it out. "How did it go?"

Ignoring your offering, Bruce carefully made his way around you. "That bad?" With a small grunt, you watch him slink down the hallway. Setting the cup down and follow him. "What happened?" You ask him again, walking into your shared bedroom.

Another damn grunt. Whatever happened definitely reached a sore spot.

With a small huff, you sit down next to Bruce on the bed. He flinches at the closeness. Hiding your hurt, you grab his hand. As you run your thumb across his calloused palm, you lean against him.

"Don't do this to me," you plead quietly.

Bruce had a thing. Sometimes when being Batman got too rough, he would shut everything out to control himself. You would be pushed away until he dealt with whatever problem he had.

"I have no choice," Bruce replied roughly, surprising you. He would never talk to you during his moods.

"We always have a choice," you tell him. "They're not always the best, but we all have decisions to make."

"You're right," your boyfriend agreed. He stood silent, seeming almost content being with you. The silence of the room is almost soothing.

"I can't do this anymore," Bruce suddenly stated.

The words made you freeze. What was he talking about? You had an idea, but kept your mouth shut.

"I thought I could keep this up," he went on. "I don't know what I was thinking when this started, but now I know what to do."

Bruce gently pushes your hand off of his and stands up. You don't even bother to look up as he sighs. "We both knew this day was going to come," he said.

When you don't reply, he sighs louder. "With you in my life, I won't have time to be Batman. This is for the best."

"Is it?" You suddenly ask. Momentarily taken aback by your shaky voice, you steel yourself. "Is it best for you or the people?"

"Don't do this Y/N," Bruce quietly pleaded. It was bad enough he waited this long to tell you. "Let's not make this harder than it should be."

"I'm not the one making this harder. It's you!" You claimed standing up. "Stop lying to me and tell the truth!"

"What more do you want me to say?" Bruce demanded. "What do I need to say that hasn't already been said?"

"Tell me why you want me to leave," you responded, your tone matching his. "You've had other opportunities to get rid of me, but you never did. So why now? What broke you?"

Nothing. He said nothing.

You spent hours, days even, crying over the billionaire as you wondered if he would come back home safe. Sometimes Bruce would return and be surprised that you were even there to greet him. He wanted you to go so badly so you wouldn't have to see him like this, but he was glad you hadn't left.

What changed?

Deciding you didn't want an answer, you turn to the closet and start rummaging through it. Seconds later, you emerge with a large duffel bag. It's filled to the brim with clothes you had packed beforehand.

Storming to the bathroom, you grab another bag from underneath the sink and fill it with your things. "So you've prepared for this?" Bruce asked quietly. It broke his heart when you refused to look at him. But he knew it was for the best.

"Not for this scenario, no," you quickly reply. "But I'm glad I had it, anyway."

The soft sound of clinking metal caught the billionaire's attention quickly. He saw you slipping off the necklace you wore.

"It's yours. Take it," Bruce told you. It shocked him when you shook your head.

"It'll only make it worse."

You gave the chain one last squeeze before you placed it on the dresser. The ring resting on the metal links glistened in the soft light as you tried fighting back your tears.

"Goodbye Bruce," you tell him. It hurts, but you know it's what you have to say. It was for the best.

The hero watches as you leave the room but says nothing. He knows that if he utters a single word, he'd start begging you to stay. But it doesn't stop him from taking a last look.

A Few Months Later...

"How are you holding up Y/N?"

Whoever asked had to repeat it several more times before you snapped out of your daze.

"Did you say something?" You ask your friend. (Male Friend's Name) shakes his head as he takes the crystal flute from your hand and replaced it with a full glass.

"I thought you weren't drinking," he jested quietly as a waiter calmly took the cup from him. Nodding his head in thanks, he (Male Friend) pulled you closer.

"You're not all here, are you?" He asked you softly. He knew the pain you were going through. He sat there by your side as you cried out for the man who left you. It broke (Friend) to see you so out of it.

"Not exactly," you reply quietly. You fiddle with your bracelets as you keep your eyes on the floor. "How did I let you convince me to come to this... Thing?"

(Male Friend) had begged you to join him to a charity ball that was being held in the heart of Gotham City. Since he was an officer of the law, he was officially invited with the rest of his brethren. They also gave him an extra invitation, and he passed it on to you.

(Male Friend) practically got on his knees just to get you to come with him. He knew that you had gone to events like these in the past with Bruce. If it wasn't for the billionaire, you wouldn't have even wasted a thought on a ball.

But since the breakup, you didn't really go out much. (Male Friend) jumped at the opportunity of the charity event, seeing it would get you out of the house. You reluctantly agreed after your friend promised that he'd buy you the next 15 hero movies that came out.

"You never could resist superheroes," (Male Friend) joked, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

'You have no idea,' you thought.

An hour slipped by as your friend dragged you around the large ballroom. He insisted that you meet all of his coworkers and friends that he met over the years.

From previous experiences, you learned to keep a conversation going and to pretend to care what they talked about.

Things were going well until the shooting began.

All over the room, waiters and other banquet servers dropped their things and pulled out hidden automatic weapons. A few near the main doors fired randomly into the air, causing a stir in the crowd.

Immediately, all the officers reached for their guns until one of them reached for a human shield.

Lucky you.

He wrapped an arm around your throat while he rapidly swung the gun around. "Anyone of you pigs even thinks about firing your weapons and this bitch gets it."

To prove his point, he let his gun hang by his side and pulled out his knife. Pressing it to your throat, he dug it into your skin. (Male Friend) instantly lowered his gun and ordered his comrades to do the same.

"Good to see you know how to follow commands," the man commented. Keeping his word, he lowered the knife.

Your captor yelled at the other shooters in a foreign language. They ran around the place, corralling the people into groups. You watched as they focused on the politicians and other public officials.

Terrorists. They had to be. The mob would've focused on the wealthy and police officials.

Helping Bruce had its pros. Denying his request that you learn self-defense was not one of them.

As the lower terrorists work, the man holding on to you struck up a conversation.

"You know," he crooned into your ear, dragging his nose up and down the side of your neck. "After we're done here, I can take you back to my place and... Get to know each other better?"

"Over my dead body!" You hissed at him.

With a growl, he raised his knife to your throat once more. "Don't make me mad," the man warned. "I can slit your throat this second and not blink an eye."

Just as you go to say something else, one window to your right shatters as a dark figure comes barreling through. Most of the civilians duck to avoid the flying glass, along with the terrorists.

The lights flicker as the silhouette weaves through the people, quickly picking off the radicals. As it nears you and your captor, it freezes. For once, you can see the face of the Dark Knight.

Your Dark Knight.

Getting over his moment of weakness, he pulled out a famous Batarang and prepared to fire. Just as he did, your captor pressed the knife into your throat. "Try it bat freak," the terrorist hissed. "Or you'll get this poor girl killed."

Bruce looked to you, unable to hold back the emotions threatening to overcome him. He opened his mouth to call your name, but you silently pleaded that he wouldn't.

"JuSt LeT hEr Go AnD yOu AnD I CaN sEtTlE tHiS," Bruce demanded, his distorted voice just as you remembered it.

Shaking his head, the man dragged you over to the window the hero barged into. He glanced over the edge and grinned when he noticed how far you were up.

Sending a wicked smirk towards the vigilante, the radical tilted you over the side. "Still want me to let her go?" The man taunted.

Bruce took a step forward. "Do It, AnD I'Ll MaKe YoU rEgReT iT!" He screamed menacingly.

"Is that so?"

As he prepared to throw you out the window, you saw Bruce run towards your direction. But even he wasn't fast enough to save you.

You can't hear your quick cry over the rushing wind flooding your ears. The broken window grew farther and farther away as you fell.

Have you ever heard about people who like to freefall from planes? The daredevils who like to plummet to the ground and don't release their parachutes until it's almost too late.

They talk about the rush that they get from feeling the air swishing through their hair as the scenery flashes past them. Their hearts practically burst out of their chests once they realize that this is real.

You felt all of that. But it wasn't beautiful.

You wouldn't fall safely to the ground without a parachute. You wouldn't land on the pavement with just a scratch or two. Your heart, along with other things, would explode out of your torso the second you splattered on the sidewalk.

A blurry object shoots towards you from the way you came. You blink slowly as it grows closer and closer like a speeding bullet.

Wanting him to be the last thing you see, you close your eyes with only a prayer echoing through your mind. He wouldn't hear it, but it made you feel better.

Save me, Bruce.

Darkness quickly overtook you as the air left your lungs.

"(NaMe)?" A gruff voice whispered. "(NaMe)? CaN yOu HeAr Me?"

A covered hand gently takes your chin and tilts it side to side. Your muscles seemed to scream as you slowly open your eyes.

Things are dark as you stare into nothingness. It isn't until hazel eyes meet yours do you realize who's calling for you.

Bruce looks worried as you stare at him with a blank face. He goes to ask if you're all right when you capture him in a hug. "Thank you," you whisper in his covered ear, gently pressing a kiss to his cheek.

As you go to pull away, the hero pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours. Shocked by the action, it only takes you seconds to eagerly respond. And just as quickly the kiss ends.

Bruce pulled back, carefully cupping your face with his gloved hands. Rubbing his thumbs over your reddened cheeks, he shook his head.

"I aLmOsT lOsT yOu ToNiGhT," he murmured. "I tHoUgHt I wAs KeEpInG yOu SaFe By PuShInG yOu AwAy bUt I wAs WrOnG."

You laugh quietly as you shake your head. "I could've told you that, you dumbass." Giving him another kiss, you suddenly look around your surroundings.

"I think you should take me back now," you told the undercover superhero. "(Male Friend) might get worried if I don't show up back at the gala."

"ThAt... ThAt'S a GoOd IdEa. HoLd On."

He gently took you into his arms, quietly instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck before he jumped off the side of the building. The wind whooshed past your face, reminding you of your almost deadly fall, causing you to bury your face into Bruce's neck.

It tempted the billionaire to chuckle but decided against it, seeing you were so fragile at the moment. With skilled movements, the hero hurled a Batarang towards the nearest building, shooting a strand of rope that swung the two of you through the air.

It wasn't long before you approached the gala building. Police swarmed the area as they rounded up the dumbasses who even dared to step into Gotham City.

Bruce gracefully landed on top of shattered glass as he entered the almost emptied gala room. He carefully set you down as he checked you over one last time for any other injuries.

"WiLl I sEe YoU aT hOmE?" He asked you shyly, keeping his voice low so only you could hear. Keeping your gaze on your shoes, you feel your lips form into a small smile.

"Only if you pick me up at my place and get my things," you tell him.

Somewhere near the entrance, (Male Friend) noticed your reappearance and caught your attention. "Y/N!" He shouted, catching your attention as suddenly fought to get to your side.

"I'Ll Be ThErE oNcE tHiS bLoWs OvEr," Bruce commented before jumping out of the broken window.

Watching your lover swing into the night made your once broken heart skip a beat as you realized Bruce came back for you.

"Woah, you all right Y/N?" (Male Friend) demanded as he pulled you into a hug, quickly pushing you away to check your skin for visible gashes.

"Yeah, I'm uh... I'm fine," you told him assuredly.

Snapping out of your daze, you look up to your friend who still held his worried gaze. Realizing that you were too calm, you took a fresh approach.

"Hey, I just met Batman. As you said, I never could resist superheroes!"

Rolling his eyes, (Male Friend) pulled you into another hug. He kept you in a tight grip as if to reassure himself you were safe and sighed.

"Let's just hope this kept your mind off of Mr. Playboy," he teased. Sharing a chuckle, you glance nervously to the side as you recalled the promise you made to Bruce.

"Sure it did..." You say uneasily, thinking of a way to explain to your friend how you were getting back together with your ex.

#Batman Imagine #Batman x Reader #Justice League Imagine #Christian Bale Imagine #Michael Keaton Imagine #Ben Affleck Imagine #Ben Affleck x Reader #Michael Keaton x Reader #Christian Bale x Reader #Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne Imagine #Justice League x Reader #The Dark Knight Imagine #The Dark Knight x Reader #Batman V Superman Imagine #Batman V Superman x Reader

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aswithasunbeam · 5 years

Link

March 1807

A fork clattered onto the floor as Hamilton’s morning coffee splattered across the clean, white tablecloth. His newspaper had a smear of syrup streaked across an advertisement on the back page from where he’d slammed it onto his plate, his eyes wide as he read the latest news of Burr’s supposed plot to make himself an emperor. “Burr’s been arrested!”

“Alexander,” Eliza sighed. She adjusted the inkwell he’d upset on the table, moving it further away from the ledger she’d been scratching in all morning. “Was that really necessary?”

“Here, Papa,” James said, reaching down to retrieve the fork from the floor.

“Look at this!” He scanned the front page again, taking in more of the details around the arrest. “Burr was discovered in the Mississippi territory. Nicholas Perkins took a detachment of men to Major Hinson’s home, after giving instructions to two mysterious men. One of the men ‘had on a white hat with a brim rather broad than otherwise, a long beard, a checkered Hankerchief around his neck, and a great coat belted around him to which as hanging a tin cup on one side and butchers knife on the other.’ This reads like a scene from a damn novel.”1

“Alexander,” Eliza’s voice turned sharp as she glanced pointedly at William, who was watching him with rapt attention.

His eyes continued to scan over the accounts of the arrest and Burr’s subsequent escape. “They have him in disguise, fleeing from Federal forces. They’re already laying the groundwork for a treason charge. This is outrageous.”

“Is it?” Eliza asked coolly.

“Ugh, and this: ‘Burr was a great rascal when he attempted to kill Hamilton.’ Ha! As if they cared. But now the Federalists believe that as Burr seeks ‘to divide the Union, destroy the Constitution, turn Congress out of doors, assassinate Jefferson, and establish a monarchy – he is a pretty clever fellow again!’”2

“Did Mr. Burr plan to assassinate President Jefferson as part of his plot?” James asked, craning his neck to look at the paper for himself. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“Nobody’s heard it. Jefferson’s lost his mind. He’s descended into paranoid delusions. There’s no way he can actually believe any of this, can he?”

“Why shouldn’t he?” Eliza removed her spectacles and set down her quill. “Burr’s proven himself plenty dangerous when provoked. And he hasn’t distinguished himself as a paragon of loyalty or virtue recently, either, has he?”

“That was different. Burr didn’t hide in the bushes to attack me from the side of the road like an assassin. He called me out as a gentleman. It was my own folly that I answered him.” He looked at James as he spoke, hoping to instill with words the example he’d so spectacularly failed to set with his actions.

“I don’t know anything, except I watched you almost die because that fiend had his feelings hurt over a newspaper article. Perhaps Jefferson isn’t so far off the mark on this.”

“It’s the beginning of our very own reign of terror, Eliza. Don’t you see? No better than a witch hunt.”

“You’re so certain Burr’s not a witch?” she asked, seizing the metaphor.

“That’s the sort of thinking that leads to mass hysteria.”

“He’s ambitious. Viciously so. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. I, for one, don’t think the charges against him are so outrageous.”

“Only because you’re still angry with him.”

“Yes.” She looked hard at him, unrepentant of her position.

“That’s a reason to let him hang for a crime that lives almost entirely in Jefferson’s imagination?”

“You don’t know that. You’ve been as quick to judgment as everyone else. You’re so set against Jefferson, that you’re willing to believe the best in a man who tried to kill you not so long ago. Burr’s committed crimes enough to justify me believing the worst.”

He stared at her for a long moment, unused to disagreeing with her so vehemently about politics. It’s not that she blindly took his side on things typically, but even where their opinions diverged, she wasn’t usually so concerned that she’d spend much time arguing with him over it. Not unless he asked her to, of course, so that he might better craft his own arguments.

She was hard set against Burr, though, uninterested in any view that set him as a pawn in Jefferson’s bid to take power for himself. Which made the idea formulating in his head even more problematic.

So much was happening in the wider world, while he stayed ensconced in New York, taking on paltry insurance cases and coming home to his family each evening. He’d needed that while he recovered: the predicable schedule, the short hours, the cocoon of his loving home. But he was starting to chafe at the restriction now. Burr was being chased across the continent like a desperado while he sat safe in his country retreat.

“The trial will be in Richmond over the summer,” he observed.

Her mouth drew into a tight line.

“That’s not such a great distance away, really. Especially considering I’ll be going to Philadelphia for work already—”

“No.” She doesn’t raise her voice, but her nostrils have flared, anger boiling behind her dark eyes. The refusal left no room for argument.

He fought not to bristle at the abrupt interruption. “We could take the little ones with us. And time away would give me a chance to focus more on my new project. You know how hard it is for me to research and write with visitors and business on the doorstep at all hours.”

“No, Alexander.”

“Betsey—”

She shook her head, pushed back from the table, and snapped her ledger book shut.

She avoided him for much of the rest of the day.

It wasn’t hard for her, exactly. She’d already been spending most of her time at the New York Orphan Asylum, after having been named Second Directress of the new organization. Her nose was constantly in her ledger book, tracking donations, paying bills, keeping the whole charity afloat as they housed, fed, and educated the most vulnerable and unfortunate children in the city.

It was well past dark when he finally heard the front door open. He was sitting in the parlor with little Eliza and Phil, an assortment of books laid out on the table before him as he scribbled notes down. His planned essay series on governments throughout history had been too long delayed by his injury, but with Gouverneur Morris and James Kent’s assistance, it was finally underway.

“Like this,” his younger daughter was explaining, holding her palms face out to her little brother. “Patty cake, patty cake, baker’s man, bake me a cake—no Phil, you clap my hands there. Watch again.”

Hamilton smiled at the children, though his shoulders were tense as he heard Eliza approaching. She paused in the entryway, watching their two youngest at play for a long moment before entering. Then he felt her gaze land on him. She regarded him silently, sighed, then came around to stand behind his chair. Her arms slid around him, her nose nuzzling his neck affectionately.

“Hello, my love,” she whispered. All traces of anger had gone.

“Hello,” he said, wary, but welcoming. “Are you done saving the world for the day?”

“Saving the world is a bit of a strong description for a day of balancing a budget and singing nursery rhymes.”

“I disagree.”

She laughed, soft and low, her breath a warm puff against his skin. “Of course you do.”

Relaxing back into her arms, he reached back to brush his hand over her cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Her lips ghosted over his ear lobe. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“The children?”

“We all managed to feed and water ourselves in your absence. Much as I depend on you, I’m not as useless as that.” He made sure to keep the tone of his voice light. The work she had undertaken was as wonderful as it was important, but he knew it bothered her that it took her away from her own family for long stretches of the day.

“I know, sweetheart,” she assured him. “But it’s my prerogative to worry over you.”

Phil clapped as he finished the rhyme with his sister, their hands having moved perfectly in unison for the first time. “Again!”

“Faster, this time,” little Eliza said.

He and Eliza both laughed as they watched their two youngest flail their hands about, creating a flurry of little fingers. Phil, in his excitement, missed his sister’s hands completely and nearly sent her toppling backwards on the last clap. “Phil,” she whined.

“Again,” the little boy demanded.

“Maybe we should do it slower again.”

Eliza sighed behind him. “Are you ready to talk about our disagreement this morning?”

“If you are.” He hadn’t been the one to lose his temper and stalk out, after all.

She grasped at the back of his chair and wheeled him from the parlor to his office, clicking the door closed behind them. When she had him settled in front of the desk, facing the interior of the room, she sat down in the armchair before him, and waited. Apparently, this talk wasn’t going to begin with an apology, or an admission that she’d seen the error of her ways.

“I haven’t changed my mind,” he said.

Her jaw clenched.

“I want to go. I need to go. I’m tired of reading about momentous events in the papers, Betsey. If I’m not going to act, I might as well have died on the field that morning with Burr.”

“Don’t say that,” she snapped, pained.

“It’s true.”

“It’s not. You have me, our family, your law practice, your health, mostly. Why can’t that be enough? Why do you have to go meddle in business that has nothing to do with you?”

“It has everything to do with me. I live in this country. I spilled my blood to see it free. I’ll be damned if I let Jefferson drive us into a dictatorship, like the Napoleon of North America. For all he says about Burr, he’s the one in the prime position to seize power. I can see now why he felt so warmly towards the French Revolution.”

“Alexander.” No heat remained in the interjection, only a weary note of caution.

“This is important to me. Very important. This trial will go down in the history books one way or another, and I need to be a part of it. I can make a difference. I can ensure things turn out right. But I can’t do it without you. I need you with me. Please?”

She tilted her head slightly, then sighed again. “For you. And only for you.”

“I don’t understand why you can’t forgive Burr, when you forgave me so freely.”

“I’m not in love with Burr,” she answered immediately.

He laughed, then sobered, unsure how felt about that being the sole ground for his own pardon. “So, if you weren’t in love with me, you would still be nursing a grudge?”

“If I weren’t in love with you,” she echoed, seeming to turn the words over on her tongue. Her eyes closed for a long moment. “You know, I can’t begin to imagine such a world.”

He smiled at that. They were so tangled up with each other, their lives so tightly entwined, he hadn’t the first notion of what life would be like without Eliza’s love. “I hope I never live to see it.”

She rose, leaned in, and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. “You never will.”

“So, you’ll come with me to Richmond?”

“Yes,” she agreed at last. “I’ll come with you. But I make no promise of cordiality towards Burr.”

“Just so long as you’re with me,” he said.

#hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #eliza hamilton #life hereafter #hamliza

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shoeandseok · 5 years

Text

ATEEZ as Bodyguards Fic: The Element Part 1

Synopsis: You get invited to a nightclub for the first time, but nothing is easy when you need personal security 24/7.

This is part of a Bodyguard AU series, which I recommend you read first for context (if you haven’t already). Thanks!

Part 2, Part 3 (Final)

You were anxious as you made your way to Hongjoong’s office. For being the head of your security detail, he was remarkably accommodating when you wanted to go somewhere. But you were worried that this time he’d refuse. You understood the necessity of having a bodyguard whenever you went out in public, but that made it hard to do normal things like seeing a movie in theaters, visiting a public beach, or going clubbing.

You looked at your phone again, at the message from Nina Sikora. Because of who you were and the work you did, you had few friends, but you were hoping she might become one of them. Nina was a rising pop singer who you met weeks ago at a charity event. You had been charmed by her down to earth friendliness, and now she was asking you to join her and her friends for a girls night at a club that weekend. You practically squealed when you read it. You immediately wanted to say yes, but your thumb had hovered above the screen. You couldn’t yet, not until you got permission from Hongjoong.

You knew as you walked to his office that this was going to be a hard sell. Nightclubs were crowded, full of strangers and substances that were regarded as high risk by security teams. You reached Hongjoong’s office door, knocked, and opened it when he gave permission.

“Oh- Miss (Name). What can I do for you?”

Hongjoong probably hadn’t expected to see you at this late hour. He was busy reviewing information on a businessman you were working with, making sure his background checked out.

“Do you remember Nina Sikora?” you asked. “Well she just invited me on a girls night out this weekend, and I really want to go...”

“Where to?”

“The Element. It’s a nightclub.”

Your words hung in the air. Then your security head released a sigh. “Miss (Name)-”

“-I know,” you cut him off. “There’s a lot of variables you can’t control.”

“There’s a lot of people I can’t control,” he said seriously. He leaned back and ran a hand through his long hair. “Do you know what types of people go to clubs? There’s pickpockets, con artists, drunks- all sorts of predatory behavior.”

“Yes, but there’s also people like me who just want to go dancing,” you pointed out. “And the guard will be around to protect me.”

He locked eyes with you and you stood your ground, letting him know you were serious. Something in your face made him soften. “Do you really want to go?” he asked, searching your eyes.

“Yes. I’ve never had the chance to do this before and I might not again. Please, Hongjoong.”

He held you in anticipation for a moment, then leaned back in his chair. “Well, you’ve made up your mind.” He smiled, shaking his head. “I can’t stop you now.” You smiled back.

“However,” he held up a hand. “I have some rules. You are going to be disguised, and you can only have one drink.”

“Deal.” You didn’t get to drink much anyways, at least not in public. “I’m sorry I’m giving you so much work.”

“Just repay me by being careful, Miss (Name). You said this weekend, right?”

You spent the next few minutes going through details with your head of security. You thanked him before you left.

After you left Hongjoong made himself a to do list. He needed to do a background check on Sikora, every friend she was bringing, and the club itself. Since this was going to be undercover he couldn’t ask for floor plans, so he’d have to send a pair of guards this week to investigate the layout, memorize faces of the staff, and evaluate the behavior of patrons. He also wanted to acquire several types of drug testing strips for drinks. He wasn’t taking any chances.

The next day, after a night of little sleep, Hongjoong addressed the bodyguards at their morning meeting. They reviewed the day’s itinerary and received the next day assignments, which included a recon task for Jongho and San, listed at the odd time of 10pm. When Hongjoong was asked about it, he braced himself and took a breath.

“This weekend Miss (Name) wants to go to a nightclub with some friends.”

“A nightclub?” Wooyoung gasped.

“You’re lying, boss doesn’t have friends.”

“Jongho!” Seonghwa snapped at his junior.

“What? We’re like friends,” Jongho grumbled back.

Yunho shared a glance with Yeosang “A nightclub sounds pretty dangerous,” he voiced.

“I agree.” Yeosang said. “Sir, there are too many variables.”

“And creeps,” Mingi added.

“Just tell her no.” San calmly spoke up, still resting his chin on his hand.

At that everyone went quiet, looking to their captain for a response. San’s words gave Hongjoong pause. Why didn’t he tell her no? Then he remembered a promise he made to himself when he first became a security head. He would never make his client feel unable to requesting something. Bodyguards have certain stories they tell, and one of those stories is the tale of clients who escaped from their security detail to do something they didn’t think they’d get permission for. Something like visiting a club.

Hongjoong opened his mouth, the thought forming as he spoke, remembering your conversation from the previous night. “I haven’t seen her want something this much in a while.” The room was silent at that.

“Well, captain?” Seonghwa broke the silence. “What’s the plan?”

Two days later you, Wooyoung, Yunho, Mingi, and Yeosang were listening to Jongho talk about his visit to The Element. You were in the car (Mingi was driving) as you headed to a meeting.

“It’s pretty classy, they don’t let just anyone in,” Jongho bragged. “Honestly they let San and I in because we looked the part and we weren’t being obnoxious.”

“Was San wearing that purple cheetah print shirt?” Mingi spoke up from the front.

“The what?” you asked, intrigued.

Wooyoung turned around in the passenger seat, grinning. “San has a button down shirt with cheetah print on it. Yeosang, you’ve seen it in his closet, right?”

“And it’s purple?” you turned to your quiet bodyguard.

“Yes. He rarely wears it.”

“Yeosang, what are you wearing to the nightclub?” Yunho asked, grinning.

His brows furrowed. “I assumed I could just wear my regular suit..”

“No, you’d look too boring,” Jongho shook his head. “You wouldn’t be let in, and then where would we be?”

Hongjoong determined having bodyguards with you at the club would draw too much attention, so you had to be disguised. Your security would have to go in disguised as regular patrons as well. Yeosang looked distressed. “I don’t think I have anything.”

“Why don’t you just buy something?” Mingi asked.

You lit up. “Can I take you shopping?”

Yeosang looked taken aback. “I don’t want to inconvenience you..”

“Nonsense, I want to. I think it’d be fun, right?”

He felt the pressure of everyone looking at him. “Yes, Miss (Name).”

You easily got permission to take Yeosang to the mall you frequented. You brought along Seonghwa, since he was the closest thing you had to a style expert (and he could help you with men’s sizing). San was your guard on duty. This mall was a fairly safe place, but you always needed someone to keep an eye out.

You figured out early that Yeosang was a man who didn’t think much about style. His suits and shoes were always well kept, but looking back you realized that his off duty clothing mainly consisted of athletic wear in neutral colors. Comfort and functionality were his priorities, so he looked out of his depth as you and Seongwha began hunting in the upscale store.

“Do you like the blue or the stripes?” You held up two options before him.

He looked vaguely stressed. “Which is less expensive?”

“Nonsense, Miss (Name) said she will be paying for it,” Seonghwa assured him, checking the fabric labels of the shirts. “Ooh, silk.”

“It’s my treat, Yeosang. Which do you like better?” you asked again.

“Uh-” He looked between the two, worrying that whatever he chose would be the wrong choice somehow. He wasn’t used to being pampered, especially by his boss, who was still waiting for him to answer. “Um..”

“I’d say the stripes are a bit too much,” San commented cheerily, still surveying your surroundings.

You took a second look at the stripes. “You’re right, I think it’s too loud. San, what did you see guys wearing in The Element?”

Yeosang breathed a sigh of relief as you talked with San. Seonghwa and you made the decision that he’d wear his regular black suit, just with a different shirt and no tie. He endured trying on several things for you two until you reached a white dress shirt with a pattern of little blue diamond shapes. When you encouraged him to look in the mirror, he found he actually didn’t mind it. He balked at the price, but money was no object to the boss. He thanked you for your generosity. To his surprise you thanked him for the fun excursion.

On Friday, Hongjoong called a meeting with you and your away guard. Your security was made up of two teams: the home guard, who kept your residence secure, and your seven person away guard, who went with you when you ventured out.

Though in charge of both, Hongjoong usually had more prep work to do for the away guard. You were much closer with your away guard anyhow, since they spent most of the day with you and were off duty once you got home in the evenings.

You joined all eight of them in the meeting room, and once everyone was assembled, Hongjoong began detailing the plan for Saturday night.

“I have secured a place on the guest list for all of you, so there shouldn’t be too much trouble getting in. However, since we’re undercover, you will enter staggered in pairs or small groups. Yunho and Mingi, you’re the exception to this. You will be joining Miss (Name) and her friends for the night. We can’t go entirely undercover because Nina Sikora has seen several of you in a bodyguard capacity, so Miss (Name) has informed Miss Sikora that her guard will be present but disguised.”

You nodded. Nina was on board with the idea. In fact, she thought it was exciting to be in on the secret.

“Yunho and Mingi will be posing as friends of Miss (Name), while Seonghwa, Yeosang, Wooyoung, San, and Jongho will be posing as patrons. As “friends” you two will be with the boss. I don’t expect you to be as focused as normal, since you have to act like friends, but don’t lose sight of what’s happening around you. Think of yourselves as a deterrent.”

They nodded. The unspoken part of that was they’d be a deterrent for anyone trying to bother you. Having bodyguards had it’s perks.

“Miss (Name) will only have one alcoholic drink for the night. Yeosang, I’d like you to offer to buy her one, then covertly test it for drugs once you receive it. You’ll have to memorize the charts that come with them.”

You wondered if any of your guard thought this was too much. If they did, they didn’t voice their opinion.

“For the rest of you as patrons, you can order things, but no drinking on the job. You will get in the club before the girls arrive with Yunho and Mingi, so take that time to get familiar with the staff and other patrons. Take note of anyone who looks suspicious or like trouble, and always keep yourselves spread out. Once Miss (Name) is ready to leave, Mingi will get the car and Yunho will escort her out. The rest of you will filter out to your separate cars.”

He paused for the ones who were taking notes, then set down his papers. “Throughout the night I expect all of you to show careful judgement. We don’t want to prematurely remove Miss (Name) from the evening because of an incident that doesn’t affect her. If things are safe for her, then there’s no reason to leave, regardless of what might be going on elsewhere in the club.”

He let that sink in for a moment, then straightened up. “Yeosang, your turn.”

You learned that since the bodyguard were going undercover, they couldn’t have their regular earpieces to communicate, and Hongjoong recruited Yeosang to solve that problem. The device Yeosang introduced was a set of watches he had found and modified. They each had a concealed button, and when it was pressed a little red LED light would flash on the faces of all the watches. Your seven bodyguards tried them out, and were told to only use it if there was a definite emergency.

You regarded Hongjoong for a moment as they tried out the watches. He wasn’t going to The Element with you and the away team. He looked tired, and you felt a bit guilty for all the extra work you put him through. You made a mental note to thank him again later.

The away guard was still busy with the watches, learning how to deactivate the light. Looking at them, a strange mix of emotion came over you. All of them had to put in so much effort, so much planning, just for you to safely enjoy a night out at a club.

Saturday night you spent extra time getting ready. The short, fun dress you never got to wear came out of your closet. You had a few wigs for disguises. Most of them were picked to look average and help you blend in. There was one fantastical wig, however, that was an ombre mix of vivid color. This seemed like an occasion to wear it.

Your maid helped you get it on securely, and the two of you determined what makeup would compliment the look. Last was a few careful accessories and a clutch. The final person in the mirror seemed like an alternate universe version of you, from a world of glamorous partying. You felt awesome.

That feeling dropped once you stepped out of the safety of your bedroom. Suddenly your heels felt to high, your dress felt too short, and your hair looked too wild. As you reached the staircase of your front hall, you saw the figures of Hongjoong, Mingi, and Yunho gathered near your front door. You prayed they wouldn’t see you yet, and focused on making your way down the stairs. Unfortunately for you, when you reached the bottom and looked up you saw all three staring. You immediately looked away, hands tightening around your clutch.

Mingi was the first to speak. “Woah. You look amazing.”

Yunho was nodding. Hongjoong looked like he was about to reprimand his subordinate, but decided against it.

Mingi was still looking at you, awed. “Your eyeshadow matches your dress and your hair!”

“Mingi, the car,” Hongjoong reminded him.

As Mingi hurried out your maid began helping you into a long coat. You repressed a smile, secretly grateful for his honest reaction.

“Remember you can end the night whenever you wish,” your security captain reminded you.

“I remember,” you answered, allowing yourself to be ushered outside. Excitement and dread blossomed inside you.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #bodyguard!ateez #bodyguard au #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez writing #my work

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