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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Interview with the Mandalorian

Pairing: Mandalorian x Female Reader

Rating: T (future parts will be Mature/Explicit)

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of prior violence against the reader (not described in detail)

Summary: The Mandalorian has placed a want ad for childcare and you decide to answer it. Despite having a questionable past, he decides to hire you.

Word Count: ~5400

Author’s Note: This is the first chapter in a multi-part story of Mando and childcare reader. I love romance so expect lots of fluff, but there will also be some humor, action, and angst, and eventually smut. I’m going for more of a slow burn here -- or at least trying to if I don’t get too impatient.

Link to Chpt. 2

Gif by @bestintheparsec (Thank you! You're awesome 😁)

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Wanted: Childcare Professional

Caregiver needed for toddler for all basic baby needs. Single father with demanding job, odd hours. Position requires living on starship. Looking for someone not squeamish and good in a crisis. Preferred skills: cooking, pre-school teaching, and first aid. Bonus skills: combat training or ability to repair pre-Imperial tech. Interviews at Cantina Manolita, ask for the Mandalorian.

You re-read the want ad as you headed out to the cantina. It started out normal enough, not squeamish was a little odd, yet understandable, but then, good in a crisis and combat training as a bonus skill? Exactly what type of toddler does this Mandalorian have? Still, it’s not like you can afford to be picky, what with your past. You’d been bouncing around from odd job to odd job, each one more terrible than the last. Your most recent job had been cleaning rooms at a very seedy no-tell hotel and after that, you’d rather change 1000 poopy diapers than go back there. Despite your education and years of experience, no one wants to hire someone with the stain of the Empire on their resume. Your only hope is that the Mandalorian who placed this ad will be willing to hear you out and with a bit of luck you won’t have too much competition for the job. Many people are wary of Mandalorians, so perhaps that will keep the candidate pool small. You’re secretly intrigued by the idea of working for one, as all you really know is that they are respected warriors who either stick together in tight groups with other Mandalorians or they work alone. You wonder why this Mandalorian is seeking outside help, must be a special circumstance.

Din watches as a woman in a short red cocktail dress, platform heels, and quite a lot of makeup saunters through the cantina. It’s a lot of look for mid-morning and he’s surprised when she heads straight to his table, leans down to give him a generous view of her cleavage, and coos at him, “You must be the Mando who placed the ad.”

“The ad for childcare? Yes.” Din emphasizes the word to be certain she’s answering the correct posting.

“Yep! That’s why I’m here, baby.” She winks at him and plops herself down in his booth, ignoring the chair placed directly across from him. Baby? He’s a bit taken aback, but he figures he should at least ask her some questions about the job.

“Do you have any experience caring for children?” He begins.

“Well, not exactly for children, but I am very, very caring. I’m sure I can take really good care of you… both.” She flutters her eyelashes at Din.

“So, if you don’t have any experience, why are interested in this job?” He feels like this is a fair question, especially since he was hoping to find someone more knowledgeable than he is when it comes to younglings.

“I just have so much love and I want to share it. Especially for someone who needs me, hot stuff.” The woman has been sliding closer to Din as she speaks. He tries to move away from her to keep some space between them, but with the child napping on the end of the booth next to him, he really has nowhere to go.

“Uh, ok, do you have any experience with teaching?” This interview is not off to a good start, but what if she’s the only one who shows up?

“Oh, I’m a real good teacher,” the woman replies, and then drops her hand onto his thigh just above the beskar plate and gives it a squeeze, “I’m sure I could teach you a few things,” she says suggestively.

“We’re done here. I need childcare, not, whatever it is you’re offering.” Din lifts her hand off his leg abruptly, scoops up the child, and quickly moves himself across the cantina to another table. Who shows up to a childcare interview to hit on the father? He’s annoyed at her for wasting his time. He sees the woman pouting and then watches as she gets up with a little stumble, calls out, “Your loss” in his direction and heads to the bar. Under the helmet he rolls his eyes; the next person has to be better than her.

Din has become increasing fatigued and desperate for some help as he takes care of his foundling and searches for information on the Jedi. That alone would be plenty to keep him occupied, but he’s still hunting down bounties too in order to keep them in credits for all the fuel they’re burning up as they traverse the galaxy. Although he’s been able to keep the kid with him all the time so far, it’s not easy to hunt with a baby along for the ride, and he wishes he had someone he could trust to stay with the little one on the ship, keeping him safe and hidden away. After all, they’re still on the run from the ex-Imps and other hunters. Oh, and not to mention, Din is still dodging New Republic officers for that mess on the prison ship. No wonder he’s exhausted.

Sighing lightly, he reminds himself that he’s going to find the help he needs today when he sees a young woman, much more conservatively dressed, giving him furtive glances across the cantina. Din gives her a little nod, and she makes her way over to the table, but she barely takes her eyes off the ground as she does so.

“Are you interested in the childcare job?” Din asks, hopefully.

“Y-yes, I’m h-here to interview.” She seems extremely nervous and can’t seem to bring herself to look at his visor for more than a moment. “I l-like children, um, I have done, um, a lot of b-babysitting.”

“That’s good,” Din says softly, trying to put her at ease, “Can you tell me more about what you did as a babysitter?”

Looking down at the table, she replies shakily, “W-watching them, um oh, I don’t know, uh playing games, making snacks, um just, um, helping, I guess?”

Maker, she’s so uncomfortable, Din wonders what he can say to help her calm down or if it’s worth it to continue the interview. How is she going to handle their situation, if she’s this nervous at the interview? Before he can think of anything to say, the baby pops his head up suddenly to investigate what’s going on, startling the poor woman so badly she jumps up from her chair.

“Aah!” She lets out a little cry and then stammers, “I-I- I think this was a bad idea. I c- can’t do this.” and runs off.

Din sighs; maybe the third time will be the charm, isn’t that what they say?

“Don’t worry, buddy, we’ll find someone.” He says to the child’s inquisitive expression.

Din has the feeling of being watched and turns to see a well-dressed man hovering near the cantina’s entrance. He seems to be in his mid-fifties, with sort-of a schoolteacher aura about him, but he doesn’t look particularly pleased to see Din. The man stares at him for a moment over a pair of owlish spectacles as if assessing the situation and then finally approaches Din’s table.

“I am here to interview for the childcare position, but I want to be very clear that I am an experienced and sought-after professional.” The man declares to Din in a stern voice.

“I’m looking for a childcare professional, please sit down.” At least this one is experienced and looks like he understands the position.

“I must tell you I am a strict believer in order and discipline when it comes to children, and I do not abide any shenanigans.” The way this man speaks makes Din feel like he’s back in school and he’s been caught doing something naughty.

Din clears his throat, “Perhaps you can tell me about your experience.” The man rattles off a list of schools and families where he has worked; stressing certain names as if Din should be impressed, which perhaps he would if he recognized any of them. Din doesn’t care for the fact that this man keeps emphasizing words like prominent or respected as he speaks of his past, it sounds haughty and snobbish. This guy may have a lot of experience, but his frosty demeanor is off-putting. Still, Din can’t deny that he’s the best candidate so far.

“How do you feel about living on a starship?” Din asks him.

“If the ship is in good working order and the facilities are well maintained, I am sure it will be adequate.” He says the last word as if adequate means appalling, indicating that Din’s home is not an ideal living situation. Din feels his optimism dwindle yet again, as this fussy man will likely turn his nose up at the Razor Crest before he even has a look inside.

“What is that?” The man asks brusquely. Din follows his line of sight and realizes the child has climbed up on his chair again wanting to be a part of the conversation. The man’s tone of voice is irritating, but Din restrains himself as he says, “That is the child.”

“That thing is your child?” He has a look of mild disgust on his face. Suddenly this man’s illustrious qualifications don’t matter to Din at all.

“Thank you for coming, but I don’t believe you’re suited for this position.” Din tells the man, trying to match his haughty tone from before. The man lets out a little ‘hmpf’ but then gets up and leaves the table.

“I’m sorry, kid, I know he was bad.” Din sighs again, “We’ll keep trying.” He despairs that he’s in for a full day of bad meetings, when he glances across the cantina to see a beautiful woman looking in his direction. He gives her a nod in greeting, but he’s afraid to hope that she might actually be here for him. However, she smiles warmly at him and starts towards their table. He feels his heart skip a beat; damn, she’s pretty. He watches her as she moves confidently through the crowd noting that she appears courteous to the others around her and Din thinks maybe his luck is turning.

“Good morning! Are you the Mandalorian who placed the want ad for childcare?” You ask with what you hope is a winning smile on your face.

“Ah, yes, I am. Are you here to interview?” Din feels a surge of optimism; you seem composed and he already likes you much better than the other people he’s spoken to today.

“Yes, I hope you haven’t filled the position yet?” you ask him.

“No, not yet. Please sit down.” He gestures to the open chair across from him. “Can you tell me a little about yourself and why you’re interested in the job?”

You start to introduce yourself expressing a keen interest in children and briefly mention your training and experience as a teacher, when you notice two little green hands gripping the edge of the table next to the Mandalorian. Slowly a small green head covered in soft white peach fuzz lifts up to reveal two shining dark eyes and a pair of giant pointy ears.

“Oh my goodness,” you breathe out in delight, “aren’t you the most adorable child in all the galaxy?” You cannot control yourself from fussing over this little one. You really are a pushover for cute kids, but this one is beyond precious. The child smiles at your words and lets out a happy cooing sound. Totally entranced, you make goofy smiley faces back at him causing him to giggle while you completely forget that you are supposed to be doing an interview right now.

Din watches your face as it transforms itself from an expression of polite professional interest to a look of absolute adoration. Your eyes are sparkling as you look at the child, your smile is positively beaming, and you’ve clasped your hands together at your chest in utter delight. It’s like watching someone fall in love all in one instance. He feels that he could ask you to do anything for the child and you would. He reaches over and picks up the little one drawing your attention back to himself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just, he’s so cute, um, what was I saying?” You quickly turn your head back to look at the Mandalorian, trying to remind yourself that you’re supposed to be impressing him with your childcare skills not going ga-ga over his son.

“It’s ok, he is cute.” Din responds amiably, this interview is already off to a better start than the others. You seem like a genuine person to him, someone who makes friends easily, who would be pleasant to have around. “You were telling me about your teaching experience.”

“Yes, yes, so my most applicable experience is my time as a pre-school assistant teacher. I worked there when I was earning my degree in Linguistics and Language Teaching at the main university on Riosa. I always loved that job so much and have really wanted to work with children again.” Oops, first mistake, mentioning Riosa is risky, he has to know of the Empire’s former presence there.

“So did you work with many toddlers at the pre-school?”

“Oh yes, so many toddlers. I’m very good at keeping them entertained with games and stories. I know how to set limits and help them learn about rules. Oh, and I also know how to make many snacks and meals that little children love.”

“He does seem to always want to eat, so that would be helpful.” The Mandalorian chuckles a little at that and gives the child a pat on his head.

“I also understand that children can be messy and I’m really good at cleaning and doing laundry too.” You try to think of what else you can say to show that you’re a good option for him. But before you can, he changes the topic.

“So Linguistics? That’s an impressive choice of studies.” He nods his head as if he approves.

“Thank you, I specialized in language structure and syntax. I speak Rodian, Naboo, Sy Bisti, and some Ubese too.” You hope you don’t sound like you’re bragging but none of your recent employers have been interested in your language skills in the slightest. It’s nice to hear that he thinks it’s notable and you do want to impress him if you can.

“Also impressive. All languages of commerce or politics. That’s very practical.” Again, he sounds like he values these skills. “But you don’t have a career in linguistics now? I would think someone with that background wouldn’t be interested in taking care of a toddler.”

“I truly do love children, and well, things don’t always go as you plan, do they?” You were really hoping to answer more questions about childcare or first aid or really anything else, but it looks like you’re going to have to get to the touchy part of the interview. The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to explain.

“When I finished my degree, I was invited to join a prestigious research group. I thought it was an incredible opportunity, a chance to work with professors and other academics. I had to take several difficult qualifying exams before they even offered me the position, and when I did so well on them, everyone I knew was very impressed. I really thought I was going to do something fantastic. I found out too late that the research group was just a front and really it was part of Imperial Intelligence. I had been living in my happy academic bubble, I knew the Empire was on Riosa but they never paid any attention to the university, and I was too naïve to realize I had been recruited to be a code-breaker.”

You pause there, internally cringing again at your stupidity, and wondering if you should continue or if he is going to end the interview right now. While he’s sitting more rigidly than before, he gives no indication that he wants you to stop, so you decide to plow ahead with your story.

“For a while, I tried to be terrible at the job, pretending that I couldn’t break the codes, that they were too complex for me. I hoped they would think they made a mistake and let me leave, but they saw through the ruse. They punished me, and I knew I had to start doing better or they would likely kill me. So I did what I was told, but only about a third of the time. The rest of the time, I would purposely leave out crucial information from the messages I broke. Or sometimes I would just change it completely. I tried to be strategic and do it without a pattern so they wouldn’t catch on to what I was doing. Eventually though one of the other code-breakers figured out my secret and he turned me in.”

You pause again at the memory of that betrayal. You had thought that Kerrick cared for you. You quickly look up to avoid any tears springing to your eyes and take a calming breath.

“What happened next?” The Mandalorian asks you.

“I was punished again, more severely than the first time. I suppose I was fortunate though, because they deemed I was too valuable an asset to terminate. They didn’t send me back to code-breaking. Instead, they forced me to teach Sy Bisti to a class of officers. It’s one of the languages their droids couldn’t translate. I didn’t try to make trouble again. I didn’t think they would give me a third chance.”

Din watches you carefully as you tell him of your experience with the Imperials. The expression on your face and the way your shoulders have slumped tell him that you’re ashamed of what happened to you. That you feel responsible and likely blame yourself for having been tricked by them. Din doesn’t see it that way though. From his perspective, you were simply a young woman who was manipulated and then abused by a corrupt system.

“Can you start today?” You snap your head up in surprise.

“What? I- I mean yes, I can, but-” you stumble over your words, “You- you want to hire me?”

“Yes. The child likes you and you’re the best person for the job.” He’s very straightforward about it.

“You’re sure? Even with the Empire stuff?” Your words sound lame to your own ears, but you need to be certain he won’t hold it against you.

He gives you a brisk nod. “You were brave to try to sabotage their intelligence, but also not too much of a fool to get yourself killed.” He’s blunt but his words are a comfort to you in a way.

That seems to be all he is going to say on the matter, as next he tells you about the living conditions on his ship. He explains carefully about his creed and the fact that you can never see him without his helmet. That isn’t a surprise though as it’s one of the only other facts you already knew about the Mandalorians. Besides, after spending time with so many helmeted Imps, it honestly doesn’t seem that odd to you. At least you’ll know this helmet doesn’t plan to kill you. You arrange to meet him in a couple hours at his ship after you’ve had a chance to pack your things. You’re so elated to find someone who wants to hire you for a decent job and who doesn’t loathe you for your past that you completely forget to ask him about the need for combat training.

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As you’re packing up your meagre belongings it occurs to you that you didn’t ask him anything about himself or really much about the child at all. You realize you don’t even know their names. Maybe you should slow down and find out more about this Mandalorian and his son, but honestly you’re willing to take the risk. You’re sick of this awful city and the terrible jobs you’ve been forced to take here. At least you know that the Mandalorians were enemies of the Empire, so that’s a bonus in your eyes. Besides from the job description in the ad, it seems like this Mandalorian has to be at work a lot so you’ll probably be alone with the child most of the time. You’ve never seen a species like the child before, but you’re willing to learn all about him so you can be successful at this job. You gather up your bags, leave a few credits for the landlord, and head to the hanger, enthusiastic about a new life.

Din is watching as crates of supplies are loaded onto the Razor Crest, and he thinks about his new hire. From the moment he saw your reaction to the kid, he knew he was going to offer you the job. His only concern is his own attraction to you, and, he has a little nagging guilt that he didn’t explain anything to you about the dangerous aspects of the job. If you knew the Imps were after the child, would you still be willing to take the job? Din knows he’ll have to tell you about that, but maybe he’ll wait until the Crest is in hyperspace before he does. Yeah, it’s underhanded, but he doesn’t have the time or the patience, quite frankly, to try to find other childcare. Plus, there’s a good chance your knowledge of the Empire will be helpful to him. Din hopes you won’t hate him too much for withholding information. He sees you enter the hanger, and once again you smile when you see him. Din’s pleased that you don’t seem intimidated or fearful. So many people look at him with trepidation or dislike, and although he’s learned to ignore it, when someone actually smiles at him, it’s such a pleasant change. Besides, you have a pretty smile.

“Hello again!” You call out to the Mandalorian, as you make your way towards him. Seeing him standing next to his ship, you’re suddenly struck by what an imposing figure he is in all that armor. He’s quite tall and obviously very strong. A whisper of an emotion runs through you, almost like desire, but it’s been so long since you’ve felt anything like that you can’t really place it. You forget all about it though when the little green toddler spies you and immediately runs right for you with a happy face. You drop your bags and crouch down, holding your arms out to him and scoop him up when he reaches you.

“Hello, buddy! Are you excited to have a new nanny? I’m excited to be here.” You tell him cheerfully as you give him a hug. You stand up again to address the Mandalorian, who’s come over to help with your bags. “I’m sorry, I was so happy to get the job earlier, I completely forgot to ask the child’s name.”

“That’s ok.” He tells you. “I don’t, um, I don’t actually know his name.”

“Beg your pardon?” He doesn’t know his son’s name. You try to keep your expression neutral, but you can’t help but give him an odd look.

“He’s a foundling. I rescued him.” The Mandalorian doesn’t elaborate. You remind yourself that you don’t know much about Mandalorian culture, so maybe that is typical for them. He hasn’t told you his name either.

“Well, what do you call him?” You look down at the little one in your arms.

He shrugs as if it isn’t important, “Kid, pal, womp rat,” he supplies, and in anticipation of your next question he says, “You can call me Mando.”

“Alright.” So, no names then, that’s different, but whatever works for him.

“C’mon, I’ll show you around.” Mando offers picking up your bags.

“Oh, you don’t have to carry those, I can get them.” He just gestures with his helmet for you to go ahead, so you head up the ramp into your new home.

The child babbles to you as if explaining things as you look around the hull of the spacecraft. It’s very utilitarian, but you figured it would be, Mandalorians don’t strike you as the types to think of creature comforts as a priority. The little one babbles at you again and extends an arm towards a section of the hull where you can see what looks like a mattress covered with a blanket and pillows that look new and unused. The Mandalorian comes up behind you and says, “Like I said before there’s only one bunk in the ship, but I thought this would work for you?” He sets your bags down next to the bed.

“This will be fine.” You’ve slept in much worse places, your cell in the Imperial Intelligence compound springs to mind. In any case, it’s nice to know that he’s thought to provide this for you. Other employers you’ve had would probably just make you sleep on the floor.

Din takes you on a brief tour of the ship, mostly making sure you know where the essentials are. He keeps waiting for you to make a comment about the ship’s age or make a joke about it being a clunker like everyone else does. But you surprise him, as you simply take it all in with a pleasant expression on your face. Although when he gets to the weapons locker, he sees your eyes widen in surprise. He realizes that he hasn’t told you what he does for a living, “I’m a bounty hunter, and weapons are part of my religion.”

“Ah, I see. Well, it makes sense you’d have a cache like this then.” You give him a nod, as if to say this seems completely normal, even though you’ve never seen so many weapons outside of a military facility. However, if it’s part of his religion the last you thing you want to do is insult him about it.

“Do you know how to shoot?” Mando inquires.

“Yes, I do. I had to take a course on marksmanship at the university.” You wince again at your innocence back then. A college that requires a course on shooting? No wonder it had been a recruitment ground for the Empire.

“Did you pass?” Mando wants to know.

“With high marks,” you reply, ever the top-notch student.

“Good. Do you have a blaster?”

“Uh no.”

Mando turns back to the locker and considers it before choosing one of the smaller guns in there. He hands it to you saying, “Here, this one should be good for you. But let me know if you think something else would be better suited for you.”

“You think I’m going to need a blaster to care for the child?” You try to keep from sounding incredulous as you stare down at the gun that he’s placed in your hand and then back at the sweet toddler who’s currently propped up against your hip.

“No, of course not, but you’ll need to be prepared when we’re off the ship.” He seems very matter-of-fact about it.

“Prepared for what?” Where does this man plan on taking you?

“Just, prepared.” Is all he says in response.

The baby makes grabby hands towards the blaster and you carefully hold it away from him. “Can I keep it in the locker for now?” you ask feeling a little uneasy. You might know how to shoot, but you’ve only ever aimed at targets in a shooting range and the idea of having to use a blaster for protection is frankly terrifying. What have I gotten myself into? Will I never learn?

“Yes, just remember to take it with you whenever you leave the ship.” Din stows the blaster away again and then says, “We should get going now,” and motions for you to head up the ladder to the cockpit. He probably should have waited to give you the blaster until later. He can see the questions and the anxiety in your eyes and he knows he’s going to have to come clean about the danger he’s putting you in. But sticking to his plan, Din says nothing and focuses on taking off and setting coordinates to Dantooine, the last known position of his next quarry.

You try to stay focused on the child in your arms, but you can’t keep yourself from staring back at Mando. The need for a blaster has brought your original question back to the forefront of your mind, and although it’s pretty much too late to ask now, you figure you should.

“So in your ad, you said, combat training was a plus. Why exactly did you put that in there?”

You watch as he puts the ship into hyperspace, before he turns to you. You’re just starting at the black visor in his helmet, waiting for him to speak, when he finally says, “There are Imps after the kid.”

“Excuse me, what?” You hope you heard him wrong.

“I rescued the child from some ex-Imperials. They have a bounty out on him.” Din decides to leave out the part where he originally collected on that bounty, delivering the child right to them. He’s doesn’t want you to despise him so he figures he’ll keep that part of the story to himself.

“What do they want with him?” You’re still holding the little one tight, and you look down into his big, dark eyes and wonder what those terrible people could possible want from this adorable child.

“He has some kind of powers, like uh, like a sorcerer, or something.” He tells you sheepishly.

“Like a sorcerer?” You repeat, o-kay.

“I know it sounds strange. But, have you ever heard of the Jedi?”

“Oh, yes, I know a little about the Jedi. Wait, can the child use the force?”

“You know about the Jedi?” He seems excited to hear that. “What do you know? Do you know any of them?”

“I know the Jedi were once an order of knights and they had the ability to wield the force. Have you ever heard New Republic people say ‘May the force be with you’?” That phrase has been everywhere, so you feel like he must have heard it.

“Yeah, but I really have no idea what they mean by it.” Din feels a little embarrassed to finally admit that to someone. He hopes you don’t think him dumb for not knowing.

“From what I understand the force is like this invisible energy that lets the Jedi manipulate things with their minds. The phrase is meant to give you hope, sort of ‘May the positive energy be with you and bring you good things’. It’s a bit ironic though because for such an optimistic phrase it’s actually how Imperial Intelligence successfully broke several Rebel codes since they put it at the end of so many messages.” As much as your viewpoints aligned with the Rebellion, you had wished someone in their command had been intelligent enough to realize that you shouldn’t put a known saying into your coded messages. You look over to Mando and he gives you a nod in response, so you continue.

“I also know there were some Imperial commanders, very high up, who were pretty obsessed with the Jedi. They were always looking for any information about them. They thought there was a Jedi working with the Rebellion and any messages we decoded about him were supposed to be flagged as extreme priority. But, I never saw anything about him. So, that’s all I know.”

“That’s the most anyone has been able to tell me so far, so it’s very helpful.” Mando replies. He’s silent again for a bit and he seems to be looking down at the child. “It is my task to bring the child to the Jedi, he’s one of their kind. I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. He- He’s special.”

Looking down at the little toddler in your arms, you remember how the Imperials treated you, and the years of damage, fear, and violence that they rained throughout the galaxy. You can’t possibly let them get their hands on this innocent one. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe,” you tell the child. And then you look at Mando, “I promise.”

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Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged for Chapter 2, please let me know. Link to Chpt. 2

Tag list: @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

berry hill.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: i am so excited to share this one with you. the tropes are PACKED in here, and it was a blast to write. i also realized some time ago that i keep forgetting summaries on my works, so i’m gonna do my best to add those from now on. as always, let me know if there are any mistakes in here! thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for helping me today <3 intended for the ‘a joyful future universe,’ but does not require context. takes place in 2011, early season six, prior to the valhalla arc. words: 12k warnings: language, some vague mention of aaron’s anatomy, alcohol use, when i say slow burn i mean s l o w burn.

summary: "...and there was only one bed." - old fanfiction proverb

waldosia (part 2) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed! updated: january 5th, 2021

It’s way too late and you know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Aunt Jess and the rest of the Brooks clan, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. You’re with Hotch at his desk, kicked back like you own the place, while he sits back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.

The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. Though it is admittedly weird without JJ, Seaver seems to be settling in alright. You’re glad that the team decided to take a chance on her like they did with you.

“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full-on mural.”

“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”

“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID.

“Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. You stay where Aaron can see you, leaning on the rail next to the stairs. You don’t really mean to stay within his eyeline, but it’s habit at this point.

“Hey babe, I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Oh not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.”

You catch Hotch’s eye and he mouths ‘Work?’ and you shrug as if to say ‘It’s a loose term.’ He rolls his eyes and steals another one of your grapes.

“Ah, I see. Late-night work with the hot boss-man.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. “So what’s up?”

He sighs, and you already know what’s coming before he says it. “Something came up at work and I won’t be able to make it to the wedding next week. We’re closing on this huge property in Georgetown and it’s really big for the firm and -“

“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” And you do. It just fucking sucks.

“I’m so so sorry to leave you hanging. I know it’s going to be super rough. Maybe one of your work friends can go with you? Maybe boss man? His name’s Aaron, right? Hopscotch or something?” His humor doesn’t make you feel any better, but you promise to keep ‘Hopscotch’ for later.

You tip your head up to stare at the ceiling and will the tears away from your eyes, blinking them back. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Two tears fall out of the corner of your eyes, and you turn around, wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“I’ll call you day-of to check in, okay?”

Hotch watches you carefully, doing your best to hide your tears from him. Bad news, certainly, but he wishes you wouldn’t hide from him like you do. Or rather, he wishes you wouldn’t try to hide from him like you do.

He can’t hear the entire conversation, obviously, but he resolves to do what he can to return at least a little of the care you always show him without hesitation,

“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then... Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up before he can respond and rest your forearms on the railing. You let your head hang for a second, collecting yourself before you have to face Hotch again.

You take a deep breath and turn, sitting across from him again. Attempting to restore your good spirits, you kick your feet back up and have another grape.

Hotch’s voice is quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times.

You can feel him squint at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.

He’s quiet for a little while, and you shove some more grapes in your mouth to make up for the silence. You know each other so well, but it still feels a little weird to explicitly talk about your personal life in the office. Sure, you spend a fair few weekends together with Jack, but the whole thing is a little embarrassing - and you’re not sure if the worst part is admitting you have an ex-boyfriend from college or you now have to go stag to his wedding.

“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset.

This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all.

That’s enough.

You scoff. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

He smiles a little, knowing you completely missed his point. “If you wanted…” He clears his throat and looks out the window, and you reply before he can continue.

“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.” You try to laugh it off, but can’t hide the anxiety in your voice.

His laugh warms you. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.”

You remove your hands from your face and look at him. There’s an earnest sort of kindness in his eyes, and you find yourself a little short of breath. “Really?”

“Really. I can get the weekend off - things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?” You had trouble reading his tone. Really, he’s just treading carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured, or give away his own selfish motivations.

“It’s, ah,” you stutter for a second, getting your metaphorical feet back under you. “It’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” Your lip disappears between your teeth again. “It’s about a three and a half hour drive.”

He opens his phone, and you know he’s checking the map. “It’d be easy enough if we left early and switched in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.”

You smile at him, wide and genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.”

+++

Hotch calls you up to his office, and you swing in, your hand gripping the doorframe. You bite back your greeting as you find him on the phone.

He beckons you in and you step inside, closing the door behind you.

“...Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the rest of the unit...You too, sir.” He hangs up and laces his fingers, addressing you. “Question.”

You sit, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.”

“Funny.”

You smirk, and he continues. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”

A huff of laughter leaves you in disbelief. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”

+++

Aaron walks down from his office, his phone to his ear. You’re helping Ashley with a consult, walking her through your process just like Emily used to do with you.

“Hotch usually likes to approach the profile starting with a demographic consideration, but I usually start from physical evidence and -”

A hand falls onto your shoulder, and you look up. “Yeah?”

He pulls the receiver away from his mouth. “Jack wants to talk to you.”

With a shake of your head and a fond smile for Hotch and an apologetic one for Ashley, you put the phone to your ear. “Hey, bud! How’s Grandpa’s house?”

“So fun,” Jack says, almost yelling into the phone. “Aunt Jess has let me play in the snow every day.”

You laugh. “I am so glad.”

“Dad says you’re busy at work, but I miss you.”

“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too. You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.” You, for just a moment, forget where you are, and you lean back in your seat as if you’re leaning into Jack himself. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I love you.”

Your breath catches, and you keep our eyes firmly planted on your consult as you reply. “I love you too, bub. Here’s your dad.” Placing the phone in Hotch’s hand, you return your attention to Ashley and do your best not to acknowledge Aaron as he walks back up the stairs. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to -”

“Hey.” Ashley stops you with a hand on your arm. “You’re really good at your job.”

A confused smile pulls at your lips. There’s a question in your eyes, and she answers it.

“Oh, I just...You’re a good teacher and a good friend, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Seaver.”

+++

On a rare weeknight off, Emily and you gather at Penelope’s apartment. You’re all sitting on the floor, bottles of wine making an occasional rotation, and a pile of snacks on the floor taking up the space in the loose circle you’ve created.

“You’re taking time off this weekend?” Penelope sounds almost insultingly surprised, as if the concept never occurred to her.

You nod. “Yep. First time in four years, so I think I’m about due.”

Emily laughs and asks. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve been inexplicably invited to an ex-boyfriends wedding - he’s a friend from college and we were friends before we dated etc. etc.” You wave your hand as you speak, outlining the tedium of it all. “His mom loves me, and I suspect she was the one who added me to the list.”

“Are you going with anyone? Penelope’s concern is touching.

“Yeah. One of my college friends was supposed to be my date, but he bailed for a work thing.” All the girls roll their eyes and nod. They get it. “So, Ho - someone else - is going with me.”

“Who?” Emily narrows her eyes and searches you.

“Oh come on, profiling is against the rules.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Spill it.” Penelope throws a goldfish cracker at you to emphasize her point.

You take a deep, long-suffering breath, suddenly missing JJ and her powers of redirection. “Fine. Hotch is coming with me -” you intercept their eager questions “- only as a favor.”

“That’s very...thoughtful of him.” Emily’s chin tips up suggestively, and you throw Penelope’s goldfish at her. “Who’s idea was that?”

There’s a moment here somewhere, where you realize you’ve just dug yourself a hole you’ll be hard-pressed to get out of. “He overheard Dean bail, and offered. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he feels bad and -”

“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Penelope nearly falls into Emily, giggling. “I can’t believe you two.”

You throw your hands in the air. “What?”

Both women share a look before looking back at you with identical disbelief. Emily speaks first. “You can’t be serious.”

Take a deep breath. You’re not that obvious.

Maybe you are. You’ve only been half-or-completely in love with him for five years.

Shut up.

“Serious about what?”

Emily rolls her eyes and finishes her second glass of wine, reaching to refill it immediately. “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

+++

You’re finishing your last bit of packing, leaving your toothbrush and toothpaste out for the morning, when your phone rings.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s Aaron.”

“Ah, my saving grace,” you say with a laugh. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”

His laugh just isn’t as good over the phone, but it’ll do. “Not even close. Is 6am still good to come get you?”

“It’s so early.” There’s absolutely no shame in your whine, and you’re rewarded with another laugh. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

You look at your suitcase, resting open on your bed. “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured or -”

He cuts you off, calling you out by name. “Enough. I offered, remember? I’ll see you at 6. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”

Your lips pinch, holding back a smile. “Thanks, Aaron.” And he knows you don’t just mean it for the pillow reminder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course. Sleep well.”

You don’t, but are nevertheless ready with bells on, pillow tucked under your arm, and coffee in-hand at 5:55am the following morning. He looks surprised when he pulls into the driveway and sees you standing on your porch, looking only a little worse for wear. At least your teeth are brushed.

“Thought you might want this.” You hold out the travel mug to him as he approaches, and he takes it (and your suitcase) from you.

“Thank you. Jump in.”

You follow instructions and immediately stuff your pillow between your head and the window as he throws your suitcase in the trunk. You’re forever grateful Aaron drives the same SUVs you all have at the bureau. He claims it’s easier to not think about different car specs, but at this moment you only care about the temperature control and familiar, soft leather seats. Your eyes shut on their own accord, still heavy even after your abbreviated morning routine.

He slips into the driver’s seat and, with your eyes closed, you miss the way he looks over at you with a barely-there, fond smile. Your sweatshirt is too big for you and your face is adorably smushed into the pillow.

With a sigh and shake of his head, he places his hand on the back of your seat, backs out of the driveway, and gets on the road.

The silence gives him plenty of time to think about things he’d rather not address. This favor, for one, is something he’s still trying to reconcile.

Would I have offered to Emily? JJ? Hell, Dave?

If any other member of the team had a friend bail out of their role as a wedding date, he’d like to think he’d drop everything and take the weekend to make them feel better, but he knows that probably wouldn’t be the case in reality. He knew you were different, and it frustrated and confused him.

As often as he acknowledges his love for you - he wishes it would just stop.

Only a year and change had passed since Haley’s death, and there were still some mornings where he woke up and couldn’t breathe. Jack still had some nightmares too. Those broke his heart more than anything in the world, but he knew you would always pick up if he called - no matter the hour.

It happened more often than he’d like to admit.

“Hotch? Aaron? What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

You’d always talk to him about something or nothing at all, sometimes turning on your bedside lamp and reading from whatever book you were perusing before bed.

He knows you understand. You were the only one there with him, when he found her body. You were there to take his son out of his bloodied hands. You were there when he was afraid of himself.

The nightmares still come for you, too, sometimes. There are nights where Haley’s dark blue eyes stare into you, whether your eyes are open or closed. You told him that, once, and he was grateful - grateful that he wasn’t the only one.

You murmur something in your sleep, about twenty minutes outside of the city. You’re still an hour or more away from Richmond, and Hotch figures he’ll let you sleep if you don’t wake up between now and then. It’s not a hard drive to Berry Hill, and you need the rest.

Might be good to pick up some food on the way...

He turns the music off, letting the sounds of your breathing and the road wash over him.

“Aaron.”

He turns, expecting your watchful eyes, but finds you burrowing further into the pillow, a little smile on your face as you remain blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Something warm starts to radiate in his chest as he looks back out at the road, the Virginia countryside stretching out in front of him, around him, and in every direction he can see. The warmth vibrates into his fingertips. He flexes his hands around the wheel, trying to shake it.

He fails.

You’re not sure how you manage to sleep so soundly in the car. You had tossed and turned all night, thinking only of facing a part of your life you hoped you’d never address head-on ever again. Why you accepted the invitation at all (or why you even received one) was beyond you.

It must be his mother’s doing. She always loved you, and she did her best to keep your friendship alive much longer than its natural death.

Exercising control over her child’s life due to an exceptional lack of control and consistency during her upbringing. Relating to her son’s partners to achieve some semblance of intimacy without facing the root of her insecurity that she’s failed as a parent.

The profiling never stopped, it seemed.

It wasn’t just the wedding keeping you up last night. The thought of spending the weekend with Aaron in an environment where you will inevitably feel (if not look and act) distraught close to the whole time still wears on you. Spending weekends at home, where you sit together with a glass of wine and leftover popcorn after Jack gets tucked in feels different.

That’s comfortable. That’s safe. This? This is scary. Vulnerable. Burdensome.

Even then, there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side while you face friends you haven’t seen in ages. He’s charismatic, almost entirely unapproachable (when he wants to be), and tall. All those factors should be enough to keep anyone from trifling with you for the duration of the weekend.

But now, in the car, all those thoughts are far from your mind. Your mind is blissfully dark and blank, your body soothed by the low hum of the car and the smell that follows Hotch wherever he goes - spicy, earthy, and something that reminds you of the air right before lightning strikes.

The car slows, and the subtle change in ambiance wakes you. You lift your head, finding Hotch turning on an offramp.

“Are we in Richmond already?” You ask, bleary.

He smiles. His sunglasses are resting on his nose to combat the rapidly-rising morning sun. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

You tip your head. He’s right. “I could eat.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You should eat.”

+++

After food and a top-off for the gas tank, you offer to drive.

Aaron refuses. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.”

“I thought shotgun picks the music.” You frown at him, admittedly still a little tired. You’ve shoved your pillow behind your seat and start to sit like an actual human being for the first time that morning.

“Those are Morgan’s house rules, not mine.”

“Ah,” you say, sagely. “I see. What are your house rules?”

There’s a smile behind his sunglasses. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.”

Thus, the Beatles’ White Album starts from the top. You can’t say you’re surprised - it is his favorite. You’ve grown rather fond of it yourself, if you’re honest, Though, you’re not sure if you fondness for the album has anything to do with the man beside you - the one who’s hair is soft and floppy in the morning light, the one wearing an uncharacteristically casual ensemble of jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt, the one singing along under his breath.

“Why is this one your favorite?” You hear yourself ask.

He’s quiet for a minute, as if you are the first to ask that question. Maybe you are. “I’m...not sure. I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born in late ‘68, and made sure I had a copy when I got my own record player in my first college apartment.” He shrugs. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little - I don’t know - comforting about that?”

You nod. “I get that.” You’re quiet for a moment, considering all the things that happened in 1982. “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.”

Hotch lets out a low whistle and a grimace. “That film really was awful.” He waits for your laugh and is rewarded before continuing. “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.”

You furrow your brow. “Weren’t you like, barely in high school?”

He nods. “We snuck out, a couple of friends and me. It was really stupid and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” There’s a nostalgic smile on his face. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He shrugs and shoots you a smirk. “But of course, that’s before your time.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh c’mon. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough.”

You lapse into silence for a little while, handing him fries from the drive-thru bag when he puts his open palm over the center console. You notice his left hand shift slightly in time with the music, and you watch a little more carefully.

And I see it needs sweeping Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know why Nobody told you How to unfold your love I don’t know how Someone controlled you They bought and sold you…

“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s a touch of disbelief in your tone, but you try to hide it for the sake of his pride. It’s not that you think he doesn’t have a musical or creative bone in his body, but you’re rather surprised by the relaxed subtlety of his movement. It was your impression he never did anything without thinking about it, and to see the slight, almost unconscious action sparks a pleasant little flicker of warmth in your chest.

He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how to play, but I don’t claim to be decent at it in the slightest.” His head tips, and you could swear you see an eye roll. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.”

As usual, he doesn’t seem thrown or surprised by your question and doesn’t hesitate to answer them. After almost five years, he’s used to your keen observations. He’d never admit it, but he expects them - maybe he’s not able to guess at the content of the questions themselves, but he always knows there will be one eventually.

“Have you and Sean always butted heads?”

Aaron snorts, and gives you a simple, “Yes.”

You’d never met the younger Hotchner, but you’d seen photos and heard tell. From what you understand, he’s a little wilder than his older brother, a little more idealistic and far less practical. Sean seems like someone you would like, but you doubt he would rise to the top of your Favorite Hotchners List - a list with only two names so far, tied for first.

It’s safe to say Jack and Aaron are hard acts to follow.

+++

You talk about everything and nothing, when finally, he asks. “So, who is this guy?”

“Ugh.” You tip your head against the seat. “You really want to know?”

“Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”

You snort, immediately regretting your decision to make fun of Strauss over drinks last week. “Yes, sir.”

He laughs, and you tell him.

You tell him about Austin and how you met in a random general education class and became fast friends and started dating, talked about marriage and kids and the whole nine yards. You told him about your semester abroad, your traveling, and returning home to find he’d been dating someone else while you were away, without your knowledge.

“It’s kind of cliche, I know, but it broke my heart in half.” You laugh a little to cover the truth of it. Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, letting you go at your own pace the same way you let him the entire time he’s known you. “I was really close to his family, and we did our best to remain civil and friendly for everyone else’s sake, but we’ve only kept in touch through other people the last few years.

“I think his mom sent the invitation. I mostly accepted because I’d love to see her and Austin’s little sister - I miss them the most.”

“What are they like?”

There’s a smile on your face as you tell him about them - how Allison likes more cream than actual coffee in her mug, how their mom has the best taste in books and still sends you worn copies of her favorites every once and awhile.

“It’s good of you to keep in touch.”

You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”

The difference, he decides, is that you are kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley was still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce?

There was no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death.

You notice his preoccupation, and reach out. Your thumb traces back and forth over the skin of his bare forearm. “It’s different now, and it would be different then. There’s no right way to do anything.”

He exhales in a huff, and you bring your hand back into your lap. “I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley. You know that?”

“I do. I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her, and probably won’t ever stop.”

There’s a sigh, and then an elbow on the center console. He leans heavily on it, and you do your best to keep your hands to yourself. “How do you know everything?” He asks.

You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile - relaxed, his wrist hanging loosely on the wheel, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.”

+++

You let out an exhausted exhale upon reaching the room you will share with Aaron for the weekend. One king size bed dominates the room, instead of the two doubles you halfway expected. He recovers faster than you do, shrugging and setting his things down on the left side of the bed, closest to the door.

Instinctively and completely without previous confirmation, you kind of figured he sleeps on the left side. The realization of that fact is a little unsettling, but you follow his lead and set your suitcase on the stand opposite his, unzipping it and unfolding your garment bag.

There’s a small part of you that’s pleased by this arrangement. Another part of you shames that part.

He’s going to think you’re taking advantage of him.

Are you kidding? He’s a SWAT-trained senior FBI agent. And a lawyer. It’s impossible to take advantage of him.

Yeah, of course that’s what he wants you to think.

Do you ever shut up?

Your outfits for the cocktail hour and the ceremony day are all set. So are Hotch’s, apparently. You look over to find him hanging a grey pinstripe suit in the closet you’d never seen before. It looks beautifully tailored, and expensive.

“Mind if I take up some real estate?” You ask, holding up your handful of hangers. He shakes his head and makes some space for you.

When you’re all settled, you sit on the bed, still tired. It doesn’t make any sense, seeing as Aaron insisted on driving the entire way.

“What time is our first obligation?”

You huff a laugh at his rhetoric. “5pm. Cocktails at the hotel bar. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” Glancing at the clock, you confirm, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.”

He nods thoughtfully before meeting your eyes over your shoulder. “How do you feel about a nap?”

I love you.

Shut up.

You can’t imagine how tired he is - working off minimal sleep and coming off a drive just shy of four hours long. “I feel great about a nap.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag and shuts himself into the bathroom.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You quickly shuck your sweatshirt, suddenly too warm. Standing, you cross to the window and draw the blinds, covering the room in a kind of gentle shade that isn’t quite darkness. You toe off your shoes and slip under the covers, thankful you never really changed out of your pajamas. Curling up facing the bathroom door, you try to stay awake until Hotch returns, but your eyes close of their own accord.

Hotch leaves the bathroom to find the room darkened and you under the covers, dead to the world. He takes another moment to look at you, the way your brow sits smooth and relaxed above your closed eyes, your hands curled loosely in front of your face, the way your breath evenly comes and goes past the curve of your lips.

Taking the risk, he places his jeans back into his duffle bag and gingerly stretches out on top of the covers beside you. His eyes close eventually, but he can’t remember falling asleep - entirely preoccupied by the phenomenon before him.

+++

When you stir again, your hands are warm. You take a deep breath and your eyes crack open, finding a sight that steals your breath. Hotch is on his side in front of you, ramrod straight, with your hands clasped between his. Your heads are bowed together - not touching, but close.

There’s no memory of him joining you in the massive bed, nor any recollection of contact, so he either held your hands on his own, or you found each other in sleep.

You’re not sure which one makes your heart flutter faster.

Resolving to get a little more sleep, you close your eyes. Only moments later, you feel him stir beside you. You know he’s watching you, and you endeavor to keep your breath even and slow, hoping he can’t hear the racing of your heart.

He releases one of your hands, and you let it drop down to the cover, praying your fingers don’t twitch.

You’re proud of yourself when you don’t flinch as his fingers brush butterfly-soft against your cheek, tracing from your brow bone, down your nose and across your lips. Impossibly gentle touches find their way down your temple to your jaw before disappearing.

His hand closes around yours again and it takes everything you have to keep your breath steady as he presses his lips to your fingers before tucking them back to his chest. When his breath evens out again, you know he’s asleep.

You open your eyes, thinking it's more than high time to study him for a change.

He looks years younger in his sleep, closer to your age than his. Even awake, he hardly looks the picture of a father in his mid-forties. His graceful aging is more obvious when his face isn’t drawn up in stress or that aching kind of sadness that lingers around him.

Curious about what he saw and felt on your face, you follow his path, slipping your hand out from under his, tracing his jaw, his cheek and brow bones, his handsome, straight nose.

Your finger rests lightly on his cupid’s bow for a moment, his breath rushing slow and warm over your hand. The feeling of his breath stalls yours, and you swallow. The next breath you take is almost a sob, and you press your lips into a thin line. Light fingers brush through the hair at his temples, the sparse, soft silver strands seeming to glow in the low light.

What you don’t know, however, is that he has taken a page out of your book. Though his eyes are closed and his breath even, he is very much awake, heart pounding. He’s sure you can hear it, or even feel it, with your remaining hand still trapped between his.

The catch in your breath makes his chest ache. Even then, his eyes remain closed, and he’s mindful of his breath. With the route you take, tracing his features, he realizes with a shock of adrenaline and cold panic that you were probably awake, playing at sleep then as he was now.

If that was the case, you know how he feels about you. He knows how you feel about him.

But you can’t. You don’t want to take up space in his life he doesn’t have, space better used to heal, space reserved for his son.

He can’t. It's too soon. He can’t subject you to the ghosts, the baggage, the long journey to wholeness he’s endeavored to embark upon with only his son at his side.

The new normal, his therapist had told him, is the hardest thing to find.

He was sure, then, that it would be easier to find the new normal on his own, but he wasn’t so sure, now.

You slip your hands away from him entirely and roll over, making play at rising. You check the time on your phone, finding the early afternoon awaiting you.

There’s a deep breath and a stretching noise, and you turn to find Aaron rolled over on his back, his hands laced behind his head.

“Good afternoon,” you say, and you’re proud of yourself for sounding normal.

A smile plays at his lips. He looks like he knows something. “Good afternoon.”

“So, tonight.” You decide it’s best to move on before anyone admits anything they don’t mean to share. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”

He laughs a little. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.”

+++

The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Aaron sticks to your side like glue, your right hand firmly placed in the crook of his arm while your left babysits a small glass of wine, more for show than for anything else.

You hear your name from across the room, and you see a huddle of some old friends and their respective dates. Aaron tips his head down to get the briefing, and you tell him names, relationships, and brief histories as you approach.

As you expected, he’s warm and charming, taking cues from you as you navigate eight years of catch-up with classmates you remember well and alleged classmates you don’t recognize at all.

“How did you two meet?” The woman asks (You’re certain she’s someone’s sister - Hotch caught her name while you missed it. Oops.).

You glance up at Aaron for a second before answering. “We’re in the same department at work.”

The man with her takes a sip of his drink. Him, you kind of recognize. Casey? Carson? Maybe. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.”

“DoJ, in Quantico.”

Leslie, who you met in guided research your senior year, rolls her eyes. “They work for the FBI, Carson, keep up.”

Carson, that’s it.

“No shit!”

A small group has gathered around you, and you shuffle closer to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and steps a little behind you, protective and secure.

“Shit,” you reply, jostling Aaron with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested you’ll have to bail yourselves out.”

“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did, so keep it high and tight and we’ll all do just fine.” Aaron’s voice rumbles through you with a laugh, and you take an overlarge sip of wine.

He really shouldn’t say things like high and tight with his hand where it is.

And his hand isn’t really in any kind of questionable location, just resting above your hip with his chest to your back, but it's still more contact than you’re used to. He wasn’t joking about leaning in.

“There he is!” Carson crows, and your head whips around. You almost lose your balance, but Hotch keeps his feet. A warm hand presses to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You know he can hear you, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Always.”

It’s just an act. He doesn't mean it. He can’t mean it.

Austin approaches with his drop-dead gorgeous fiancee and a smile.

Aaron releases you as Austin gives you a warmer hug than you were expecting, and examines Hotch over your shoulder. He introduces you to his fiancee (Madeline), and you introduce them both to Aaron.

“Austin, this is my…” you pause, realizing you never actually established a cover story, letting the implication speak for itself. “Aaron.” You recover with a light laugh, and Aaron pulls you to him with one hand while he shakes Austin’s with the other.

You try not to smirk at the grimace that flashes across Austin’s face when Aaron’s hand closes around his in a very firm and assertive handshake. “Pleasure. Congratulations.”

Austin laughs, a little uncomfortable, and stretches his hand once it reaches his side again. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.”

+++

“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. It had been second nature to him, draping it over you and placing a hand on your back. The memory pulls a smile from your lips. “Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.”

Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and his grin makes your heart skip around in your chest.

You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”

“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”

“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.”

You move easily around each other, changing into pajamas and brushing your teeth and getting otherwise ready for bed. He’s cute at night, with his pajamas and floppy hair and big yawns. It’s not like you haven’t seen this side of him before, what with all the late nights watching movies with Jack, but it is significant that it’s just the two of you. He’s not Jack’s Dad right now, or Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner who won’t go to bed until The Case Is Solved, but Aaron.

Sleepy, charming, funny Aaron.

Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway.

“I really can take the couch.”

You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.”

“Oh?” He asks. “Why’s that?”

“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.”

The bathroom light flips off, and you hear a scoff in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.”

“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.”

The mattress dips beside you, and his form takes shape in the darkness, facing you. Before he can speak again, you cut him off.

“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and you can almost pretend that this is your life, that you get to fall asleep beside Aaron every night.

Don’t get comfortable.

Why not? He’s here, isn’t he?

He is, but not like that. This is a favor for a friend, nothing more.

You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. There’s a sigh, and you belatedly realize it came from you.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice floats to you in the dark, and you nod. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

You think for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just - I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.” A hand reaches out, and you find it.

“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. The trust you’ve placed in him does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Your willingness to be vulnerable and funny and so yourself is a precious gift to him, and one he’ll never take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.”

I’d like to let you come -

Ew, dude.

What?

Now is not the time.

“With that in mind,” he continues, his voice gentle in the dark, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress,’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”

Your friend.

He is your friend.

I know but that…sucks.

It doesn’t have to.

There’s something in his voice that almost makes you stupid, but you hold your tongue. “Goodnight, Hotch.”

He takes a deep breath, missing the way his first name fits in your mouth. It sounds safe there, like you’d never use it against him. “Goodnight.”

+++

You feel warm and feeling somewhat constricted, but not uncomfortable. There’s weight at your back and an arm around your waist, and you lean into it in your state of half-wakefulness. A little noise leaves the body behind you, almost like a sigh with tone.

Remembering where you are, you resist the instinct to jump. Hotch is wrapped around you like a koala, his knee between yours, one arm under your head and the other around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

His hair smells divine, and he’s so warm.

Your theory from yesterday morning seems confirmed - you definitely didn’t fall asleep touching each other, so you must have found each other in the night. The thought warms you, and you close your eyes again.

The ceremony isn’t until the early afternoon, so you have all the time in the world to doze and prepare for the hellscape of the day.

That’s not a fair assessment. You think, and correct yourself.

If the prior evening was any indication, things would go smoothly. Aaron was the world’s best wingman. He kept conversation flowing and took your cues without a second’s hesitation. Everyone loved him, and people asked you all night how you met, how long you’d known each other, how long you’d been together. The first questions were easy, but the last one was one you hadn’t prepared for. He, of course, had an answer for all three.

“We work together.”

“We met, what? Five years ago now? Maybe a little more?”

“We’ve been partners for almost four years.”

And...he wasn’t lying. You always paired off with him at work, whether naturally or by assignment. His lack of specifics in defining your relationship both settled and raised your blood pressure, depending on the way you decided to approach it. The words accompanied an affectionate squeeze around your waist or a kiss to the back of your hand.

You know he’s just playing the part for the weekend and everything will go back to normal when you get home.

But God, he’s good at it.

You almost believe him.

He’s still sleeping behind you, his breath fanning slow and even across your shoulder. You’re both fully clothed, but there’s something intimate about it. Sleep, you think, is inherently vulnerable, inherently a trusting state. You two not only managed to fall asleep in the same bed, but woke up tangled together.

You drop your hand to your waist and rest your hand on top of his, falling back into sleep without too much thought.

When Hotch wakes, it’s thankfully late. He’s far too comfortable to be in a hotel bed, but quickly realizes it’s not the mattress. You’re wrapped in his arms, and for a split second he almost panics, concerned that you’ll wake to find him glommed onto you like some kind of ridiculous backpack.

But then he remembers the way your fingers traced his face when you were sure he was asleep, the way you leaned into him the night before - taking shelter in his willing arms.

He feels your fingers pushed between his, your palm warm against the back of his hand, holding him to you.

He’s fucked. He’s totally and completely fucked. He’s even more fucked to even consider the possibility you’re fucked, too.

How could you possibly want him? A man nearly fifteen years older than you, with one failed marriage under his belt, an inability to tear himself away from his work, and more than enough trauma to drown in is hardly the ideal partner for someone as vibrant as you, with so much life yet to live.

And yet, it’s so hard to imagine a life without you. Whenever he looks into his future, he sees you there with him. It’s far too easy to let himself fall into the fantasy as you peacefully sleep in his arms with your fingers laced together.

You shift a little in your sleep, and he arches his back a little, definitely trying to keep you away from...certain parts of his anatomy that are a little more awake than the rest of him.

Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner.

He very gingerly disentangles himself from you, and he’s pleased when he only gets a few sleepy protests in return. The shower is calling his name, for more than one reason including but not limited to the uncomfortable tightness of his flannel pajama pants.

With one last lingering glance at you, he picks up his toiletries and locks himself in the bathroom for a long (very) hot shower, followed by a much shorter (very) cold shower.

While he’s gone, you stir and stretch your arms over your head. A little disoriented, you find his side of the bed empty but not quite cold before you hear the running water of the shower.

What if you just -

Do not finish that thought.

You are not one iota of fun.

Reaching for your bag, you pull your laptop out and get started on some emails. You have a couple from Seaver and one from Emily.

You sigh and pull out your phone.

“Prentiss.”

“Hey, Em. You wanted me to call?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going down there.” her voice is the picture of forced nonchalance, and you can almost hear Penelope leaning over her shoulder.

You laugh into the phone and trace patterns on the bedspread. “Things are going well. Hotch was the perfect gentleman last night, and we have the ceremony and reception today. We head home tomorrow morning.”

“Has anything happened? Where is he right now?”

“He’s in the shower. And no, don’t be ridiculous.” You shove your phone under your chin and answer all of Ashley’s questions in confident keystrokes. “You and I both know he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

Aaron pauses in the bathroom, in the middle of towel-drying his hair. With a smile, he overhears: “...he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say. “My God, Em. Would you quit?”

Ah. So it is Emily.

“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty -” You pause, and your voice drops to a low murmur he can’t hear over the hum of the bathroom fan.

With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress.

You’re so glad you drop your voice to finish your thought (“- that he’s in love with me. Don’t be stupid.”) because the door opens and you are immediately confronted with Aaron Hotchner in a towel and every single coherent thought flies out of your head. He smiles a little at you, and something in you melts.

“Are you good?” Emily’s voice is full of laughter.

The heat rises in your cheeks and you whip your head back to your laptop, typing just for something to do with your hands. “Yeah, for sure.”

“He just walked out wearing a towel, didn’t he?”

“Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” You roll your eyes, and miss the smirk on Hotch’s face as he grabs his hanging clothes from the closet.

“So that’s a yes.”

+++

Austin’s family clearly spared no expense for either the ceremony or the reception. You and Aaron had walked in arm-in-arm to find a spot on the groom’s side near the back. It’s still weird - there was a time where you thought for sure Austin was the be-all-end all for you.

But here you are, sitting next to Aaron. He’s wearing that beautiful suit that looks even better on him than it did on the hanger (and that’s saying something). As promised, his tie matches your outfit, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it made your heart all warm watching him put it on.

The ceremony itself is a blur. You stand and sit when you’re supposed to, and spend the vows with your head on Aaron’s shoulder - playing the role, of course. You take a few unsteady breaths, caught off guard by how affected you are by the ritual of it all.

You don’t love Austin anymore, not by a long shot. That said, the reminder that you’re not married to anybody but work and rapidly approaching thirty is unpleasant.

“Are you okay?” Hotch’s whisper doesn’t carry far.

You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shake your head, the soft wool of his suit jacket pressing into your temple. “Later.”

His cheek presses to your hair for just a moment. He’s not worried about you, per se, but he’s never seen you in this existentially forlorn state before. It’s a feeling he recognizes in himself, but to see it on you makes him feel a new kind of helpless.

+++

You’re at the open bar, snagging a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for Aaron (the good stuff, of course), when Austin’s mother warmly accosts you.

“Darling!”

Against your will, a genuine smile breaks out across your face. “Hey, Laurie!” You set the drinks down and embrace her, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing you. Suddenly, you feel nineteen years old again. “Congratulations.”

She pulls back and waves off your good wishes. “Oh, please. I haven’t done anything.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I beg to differ, but alright.”

She takes you under her arm and holds you close to her. “So.” Her tone is conspiratorial, as if a great plot is to unfold before you. “Who is that devastatingly handsome man you’ve brought with you to shame my son?”

“I did not bring him to shame your son, he offered to come when my original date bailed. You remember Dean?”

“Of course. Such a sweet boy. Still married to his work?”

You shake your head. “I would be...hypocritical of me to get upset with him for that. My work at the bureau keeps me plenty busy. If I’m honest, this is the first personal time I’ve used in four years.”

She squeezes you for a half-second. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Her lips purse. “But don’t think you can get out of telling me about that fine, fine man over there.”

“His name is Aaron,” you start, fighting a smile. “We work together at the bureau and he’s just a friend, Laurie, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I always have ideas. Now, introduce me so I can see for myself.”

With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks off the bar and lead her to the table, where Aaron sits with his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his mouth, his elbow on the table and ankle crossed over his knee. Approaching from behind him, you set the whiskey down where he can’t knock it over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Aaron.”

He turns, and a broad smile breaks out over his face. You’re sure he’s just being polite - you’ve never seen him smile so much. Offering a hand to Laurie, he stands. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Oh no, that can’t be good.” She laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh, tickled by her demonstrative affection designed only to embarrass you.

“C’mon, Laur. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”

You try to ignore the fondness in Aaron’s eyes as he watches the two of you, Laurie cooing over you and your successes. She returns her focus back to Aaron. “Sit, sit and tell me what you crazy kids get up to over there in Quantico.”

Aaron sits and relaxes back into his chair, resting his arm on the back of your seat. You lean forward with your elbows on the table, your hands propping up your head. Aaron’s a great storyteller, of course, and it’s so interesting to watch him talk about work outside of the context itself. He seems to bloom - effusive, charming, and warm - before you.

When you look at him, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.”

Laurie is clearly enamored, completely drawn into his gentle description of your very-stressful and often-gritty line of work. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.”

He nods, and glances at you. “It does.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Dean, you bastard!” You answer. Hotch’s huff of laughter tells you he overheard it, but he picks up right where he left off with Laurie.

As you step out onto the banquet hall balcony, almost feel bad leaving him to his own devices, but then you remember all the times he’s been left alone with serial killers and you feel much better.

“Hey babe! Are you surviving? Are you alone? Tell me everything.”

You laugh into the phone. “I’m doing alright. Hotch actually offered to come with me. I just stepped out, but he’s in there holding his own well enough.”

“Oh my god. When I said that I didn’t actually think you’d do it!”

“What do you mean?” You look up and out over the property, and the views are simply breathtaking. The moonlight falling across the Virginia landscape almost makes the world look like it’s holding its breath.

What it’s waiting for... you’re not sure.

“When I said bring your hot boss to the wedding I was joking. You didn’t ask him, did you?”

You let out a snort and it almost disrupts the peace of the evening. “Of course not. He offered.”

“I have never met a pair of people so fucking stupid in all my life.”

“You’ve never met Hotch, idiot.”

“Don’t have to,” Dean says. “I know you are you’re dumb enough for the both of you.”

+++

When the dancing starts, you’re understandably resistant. The playlist is a playful mix of contemporary and classic music, and you can’t help but laugh when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play.

Aaron stands and offers you his hand. You take his hand without thinking, belatedly realizing his intentions.

“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop dead in your tracks, but his grip on your fingers stays firm as he looks back at you with a look of humorous disbelief on his face.

“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with a huff. “Humor me. Just one and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

You glare at him, dubious. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying.”

And at the end of the day, you can’t refuse him anything - especially when he smiles at you like that.

He’s an excellent dancer. Your grip on his shoulder slowly loosens as you grow more comfortable, trusting him to lead you around the dance floor. He holds you tight, his movement playful in a way that’s almost foreign to you.

You’ve seen him dance exactly once, at Haley’s 39th birthday party, the summer before she died.

You catch sight of Austin and Madeline on the other side of the dance floor and avert your gaze when you find Austin looking back at you.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is low, almost a laugh.

Your eyes snap to Aaron’s. “What?”

“Relax.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff.

He rolls his eyes and throws you out by one arm, spinning you so your back is to his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You are tense.”

The feeling of his heartbeat against your back ruins your resolve and you relent. “It just feels weird.”

“What does?” He spins you back out and pulls you close. You try not to be too distracted by the proximity of his face to yours when you land back against his chest, you hand resting over his heart.

“I just -” you push through your reluctance and admit, “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s super weird to even think that I could have ever thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves and both of our lives just...kept going after we split, you know?” You shake your head, scattering your thoughts.

He nods. “I do.”

You believe him. The very concept of his heartbreak with Haley - the separation, the anger, the divorce, her death, the love - is overwhelming. You know he understands.

The silence that lapses between you is comfortable.

Yeah, I've done a lot of foolish things That I really didn't mean I could be a broken man Here I am, baby...

When he turns you under his arm, you laugh until you can’t breathe. There’s a smile on his face, too, and there’s something warm and inexplicable about it. You turn the tables on him, turning him under your arm and pulling him back to you.

The song changes to something slower and, true to his word, Aaron keeps you out on the dance floor. You’re exhausted all of a sudden, and your eyes close as you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

You’re only sure you spoke aloud when Aaron replies, “Of course.”

+++

Your feet ache when you finally call it quits and head upstairs to your room for the night. Aaron’s suit jacket had long since left him, leaving him rolled sleeves and a loose tie with his top two buttons undone. It traveled from the back of his chair to where it now rests, slung over his arm.

You look over your shoulder as you slip your shoes off. “You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.”

He lets out a laugh, and it makes your breath catch. His laugh always takes you by surprise; it’s much brighter and higher than his speaking register, and frankly, adorable. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“You don’t have a bedtime.” And it was true - you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d known him to actually sleep, especially on a case. You could neither confirm nor deny that he even needed it to function prior to this weekend.

The thought makes your cheeks a little warm, and you turn away from him, setting aside your pajamas and packing the rest of your items.

There’s a little chuckle behind you before the bathroom door closes and the shower starts up.

When Aaron leaves the bathroom, his hair wet and pajamas on, you’re asleep. Curled up on top of the covers, out like a light.

He flips all the switches, leaving the room in darkness. Creeping to your side of the bed, he reaches over and pulls the covers down, gingerly shuffling your legs underneath, followed by your torso. You stir a little, and catch his hand as he moves to tuck your hands under the covers.

His eyes close, just for a moment, before slipping his hand out of yours. He’s already dreading going back to his empty apartment tomorrow afternoon.

That feeling is only amplified when you curl up against his chest as soon as he’s settled under the covers, your leg hooked over his.

+++

You wake up warm again, and snuggle into the body beside you. Arms tighten around you, and you remember where you are and who you’re with. Unlike yesterday, you can’t pretend to be asleep - when you look up, Hotch is awake, brown eyes looking down at you.

“Good morning,” he says.

You tuck your face back into his chest. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.”

His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

Don't read into that.

I’m going to.

Don’t.

Fuck.

“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but you can’t quite see with his arm in the way.

“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”

“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up.

He shrugs and you take a moment to admire the tousled, floppy state of his hair. “I like driving.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

You sigh, stretch, stand and start rolling. You brush your teeth (twice) and put your clothes back into your suitcase, zipping it up without much trouble. He, of course, takes it off your hands right away and brings the bags to the car while you take care of checkout.

He meets you outside, sunglasses on, and the sun hits his hair. You can see all the nuances in the black - the touch of silver, the dark browns and reds. They all seem to make a halo around him in the sunshine. “Ready?”

You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!”

Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope.

“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict like a starving man.

“Tell me everything.”

“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast, almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?”

Not now, Penelope, I’ll call you when I’m home.

She hums, following right away. “You better give me every single detail as soon as you step through the door or I swear I’ll riot.”

With a laugh, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate, trying to ignore the fact that the only person you actually want to have dinner with is right across from you.

“Perfect. Yeah, just text me when you get home babycakes. Can’t wait!” She hangs up promptly, and your eyebrows raise for a half second.

You put your phone away and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.”

He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.”

You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack.

“Hey bud!”

There’s nothing better than the way his voice transforms when he speaks to his son. You hear your name and return your attention to his conversation.

“...we’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today… Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun… I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend… You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?... Awesome, bud… Sounds good, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?... I love you too.”

When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”

“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.”

You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”

“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is… not a fan of mine.” There’s a kind of sadness in his eyes, and you almost regret asking.

“I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” You look into him and hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes, hear it in your voice.

He thinks for a moment, and you’re almost nervous he’s going to disagree (it’s happened before), but he just meets your eyes and says, “Thank you.”

+++

Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He does occasionally smile a little secret smile to himself, which makes your heart skip around in your chest.

At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat.

As usual, Aaron knows you’re going to say something long before you say it. “Yes?”

“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his profile.

“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.”

You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”

He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.”

“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.”

“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his hair. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a laugh.

“I’m kidding! I like it long.” You look over fondly at him. “It was longer when I first met you, remember?” You’re not sure why you continue, but you do nevertheless. “You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.”

He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturned just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.”

You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on.

+++

You’ve never been more disappointed to see your own driveway in your whole life. Hotch pulls in and turns the ignition off, and you sit in silence for a minute.

There’s so much to think about, and most of it is at least a little uncomfortable. Of course you’re in love with him and he’s your favorite person (and that’s bad enough), but that is even harder to stomach now that you have to go back into the real world.

It’s easy to pretend that it was real, that it wasn’t just for show to make you feel less awful about the direction of your love life. If anything, now that you’re home, you feel even worse.

The only person you want is seemingly the only person you can’t have. There’s something so unattainable about Hotch. You’re not sure if it’s his stern exterior or his age or his role, or if it has more to do with how devastatingly handsome he is, but it’s something.

Aaron wishes he could do anything else, than leave you here at home. Nevertheless, he sighs and gets out of the car. You follow him around back, though you’re not really sure why - he takes your suitcase and insists on carrying it all the way to the door.

You stand there, fumbling with your keys, feeling more and more like a character in a romantic comedy with every passing second. Aaron sets your suitcase on the ground and covers your hands with his. You look up at him, and he leans toward you, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

All you can do is nod, with a tight, closed-mouth smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says

“Bye, Hotch,” you call to him as he trots back to the car. “Thanks again.”

He turns toward you, puts his sunglasses on, opens the door, and says, “Anytime.”

You wave with the tips of your fingers and slide into your house. Your back to do the door, you slide down to the floor and cover your face with your hands.

Fuck.

tagged: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

the in-between | ii (kuroo tetsurou)

➵ it took you and kuroo far too long to learn that love was never singularly defined. it can be both striking and understated, sudden and unhurried, gentle and all-consuming. and most of all, it can be anything else in-between.

wc: 7.9k (part 2 of 3)

warnings: f!reader, mentions of anxiety & depression (kind of), cursing, reader is a g@mer girl in one part, persona 5 spoilers (kinda), dog??

a/n: once again a big thank you to @w-yuren T-T thanks for making this legible. also, obaa-chan is the familiar term for one’s grandmother!

m. list | ch. 1 ↞ ch. 2 ↠ ch. 3

You supposed you felt a little bad for revelling in the fact that the third years were leaving the club. Them leaving meant Kenma would finally know some peace, safe from their heckling. It was difficult to work up any sadness at your upperclassmen’s departure, even if you had spent a substantial amount of time with them.

But, that little nugget of quasi-guilt was absolutely trumped by the sheer delight of seeing Kuroo be handed the mantle of captain.

You weren’t surprised. There’s something of a natural leader to him, and he was already doing a great job of holding the first and second years together. His fellow year-mates were positively beaming as congratulations rang throughout the gym, Kuroo’s cheeks flushed a little with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

You were waiting your turn to congratulate him, heart full just from watching him get the praise that he deserved. You were happy to observe, really. Especially when he looked so honoured, so happy when Coach Naoi gave him a congratulatory pat on the back.

Finally Kuroo turned to you, eyes bright as he held his arms out. You jumped into them on instinct, wrapping your own arms around his neck. He hoisted you off the ground in one smooth move, twirling you round. A squeal escaped you before you could stop it, but he didn’t seem to care. He was just cackling.

You couldn’t quite tell if the thrumming in your chest was due to a short adrenaline spike or because you’re so close to him.

He finally put you down and pulled away, his hands moving up to hold you by your shoulders.

He smiled at you. In that moment, you thought that his features should only ever hold a smile.

You’d always been kind of aware that Kuroo was a pretty attractive guy. He was tall, fairly muscular, and his face wasn’t too bad for a teenage boy. You’re not blind, after all.

But this was the first time that you’d really felt it for yourself.

He’s got a certain twinkle in his eye that you didn’t quite know how to read. For some reason, it made you feel bad.

You tried your best not to think about it. Not while you were still in the gym. Not while the two of you got celebratory ice cream with Kenma on your way to the train station. Not while he walked you home, chatting your ear off about what his plans were for the next year.

You just tried to distract yourself with the fact that he was so happy.

“You know,” Kuroo sighed, looking up at the sky. “I’m not sure about this whole captain thing.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for doubts?” You scoffed. He’d spent the past hour or so being delighted by it. You’d wondered when the overthinking would kick in. Not that you could really rag on him for it, all things considered.

“I don’t mean like that,” he shook his head, pursing his lips. “I don’t know. It’s just…”

“Stressful?”

“Kind of,” Kuroo shrugged. “It makes it all feel very real, you know? We’re gonna be third years soon.”

You shivered. “Don’t remind me.”

“You’re going to have to face reality one day, you know,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair with one hand. He was really making a habit of that, wasn’t he?

“Hush,” you sighed, waving a hand at him.

He was right, though. Third year was getting closer and closer. Kuroo being made captain was just a more pressing reminder. It sounded like quite the responsibility, but you knew he was up to the challenge.

You’d spoken about it a little bit before; mostly your theories about who’d get saddled with the title. It could only really be between him and Kai, but he’d definitely seemed to express some interest.

“This is what you wanted, right?” You asked, looking up at him.

He gave you a half-smile. “I was kinda hoping for it, I guess.”

“Why are you worried, then?” You asked, tilting your head at him. “Don’t tell me you’re worried you won’t be any good at it.”

“Wow, harsh!” He nudged you with his elbow, but he was grinning.

You rolled your eyes at him, nudging him back. “You’re a great fit for it, okay?”

“Am I?” He hummed, closing the distance between you. You didn’t feel the need to move as you walked along, arms brushing each other.

You knew that tone of voice. He was trying to lead you in a certain direction; to say certain things. Usually compliments that he’d laud over you later. Today, you’d take the bait willingly. But just this one time.

“You’re gonna be great at it, Tetsurou,” you sighed. “You’re more caring than you let on, you’re mature enough, and you know how to use everyone’s strengths,” you rattled off, gripping the strap of your bag with blanched knuckles. “I can’t think of anyone better for the job.”

You weren’t lying about any of it. He knew when to reign Yamamoto in, he gave Kenma space while still pushing him to be his best, and he’d long moved past his petty rivalry with Yaku. You’d watched him look after each and every one of his teammates in little ways, and you’d seen how he’d manage to bring them together as a cohesive unit – even though he hadn’t been in any position of authority.

You weren’t going to say all of that, of course. You weren’t even sure how to put it in a way that didn’t sound exceedingly awkward. But you admired him. A lot.

You looked up at him. He’d stopped walking, and he’d brought one of his arms up to cover his face. You stepped towards him, tilting your head.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.” His neck was a bright scarlet. You bit back a laugh.

“Tetsurou?”

“Just give me a minute,” he mumbled, voice all muffled.

You laughed. “What’re you all embarrassed for?”

“I didn’t think you’d say that!” He whined, dropping his arm to his side and burying his hands in his pockets. His face was just as bright as his neck. It was kind of cute.

“Oh come on, you were practically begging me to!” You scoffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “You’re not slick, you know!”

“Okay, maybe I was fishing for compliments,” he laughed, looping an arm around your shoulders in some attempt to contain you. “But you didn’t have to get so sappy!”

“I wasn’t even that sappy,” you rolled your eyes, leaning into him. “You really can’t handle sincerity, can you?”

“Shut up.”

✉

[god’s least favourite] 9:34 PM: oi

[YOU] 9:34 PM: rude

[god’s least favourite] 9:34 PM: you do realise you’ve got to show me some more respect now

[god’s least favourite] 9:34 PM: seeing as i’m captain and all

[YOU] 9:35 PM: bold of you to think i showed you any respect in the first place

[god’s least favourite] 9:35 PM: excuse me

[god’s least favourite] 9:35 PM: you’re officially obligated to refer to me as captain now

[YOU] 9:36 PM: don’t wanna

[YOU] 9:36 PM: manager trumps captain

[YOU] 9:36 PM: just ask the boys

[YOU] 9:36 PM: they’ll side with me on this one

[god’s least favourite] 9:39 PM: good luck with that chemistry exam :)

[YOU] 9:39 PM: NO TETSUROU I’M SORRY

[YOU] 9:39 PM: I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE

✧ ✧ ✧

Inviting you to his house shouldn’t be a big deal. You’re friends. He’d been to your house a fair few times. He got along wonderfully with your family. He had no doubts that you’d get along well with his family, too. And there was absolutely nothing weird going on between the two of you.

But for some reason, the thought of you meeting his family sparked a little anxiety inside his chest. And it certainly wasn’t helped by how smug his family was being about the whole thing.

He’d managed to shake off his father and his grandfather, both of whom had busied themselves in the little vegetable garden for the morning. His grandmother, however, was an entirely different challenge.

“So.” His grandmother smiled at him, tilting her head at him in a deceptively innocent way. “You’re inviting a girl over, Tetsu?”

“It’s not like that, Obaa-chan,” Kuroo sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Are you sure, Tetsu?” She chuckled. “That blush on your cheeks says otherwise.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kuroo mumbled, his brow furrowed as he poured some hot water into a little tea cup for her.

“Well, your father and I were just innocently chatting about how you never bring girls over,” his grandmother said, her face graced with a mischievous smile. “Are you embarrassed by us, dear Tetsu?”

“You caught me, Baa-chan,” he chuckled, using a spoon to mix a bit of honey into her tea. “I’m actually a bit of a Casanova.”

She faked a gasp, placing an incensed hand on her chest. “Oh goodness, Tetsurou! I thought we raised you better than that!”

“You know what they say,” Kuroo grinned. “Nature and nurture, and all that.”

His grandmother chuckled. “Men really will find any excuse to be terrible people, won’t they?”

He snorted at that. “Wow! I didn’t know you woke up today deciding to absolutely obliterate every man ever.”

She cackled, shaking her head. Kuroo took a quick sip of the tea to test the temperature. Deciding it was appropriate, he turned around to give it to her, hoping his cheeks had cooled down at that point.

“Well, you must like this one more than the rest,” his grandmother cooed, resting her chin on her hand as he placed the tea cup in front of her. “Seeing as you’re bringing her over and all.”

“She’s just a good friend,” Kuroo mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Blushing and scratching your neck!” His grandmother’s eyes shone with delight. “My, my, Tetsu, you are nervous.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came. Sure, he usually got the jump on everyone else, but there was no outsmarting his own grandmother.

The doorbell chimed through the house.

“You better go and greet your lady, little Casanova,” his grandmother raised a pertinent eyebrow at him, taking a sip of her tea.

“I told you, it’s not like that,” Kuroo huffed, waving a hand at her.

“Whatever you say, Tetsu.”

But he was already gone, half-running to the front door.

By the time he opened the door, you were halfway down the front path, back turned to him as you looked around.

“Leaving already?” He smiled, trying to look as composed as possible.

“Yeah,” you grinned, looking over your shoulder at him. “Already bored.”

Kuroo scoffed, shaking his head. “To think I offer you the privilege of coming to my house–”

“Oh, yes, the great honour of being allowed into the Kuroo household,” you played along, half-skipping back to the front door and slipping your shoes off. “I will finally step foot in it’s hallowed halls… a privilege I have not yet been granted.”

Kuroo snorted, moving to ruffle your hair. “You sound like someone out of one of Kenma’s games.”

“That’s the point,” you shrugged, slapping his hand away. “Oi. I tried to make it look presentable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckled, stepping aside to let you in. He did his absolute best to ignore just how pretty you looked today.

He took a deep breath. Before you two would be allowed to just hang out, you’d have to meet his family. And though he loved them more than anything, they had the potential to cause quite the ruckus.

But it went fine. His family managed to resist their innate urge to tease, and you held a conversation with each of them quite smoothly. His grandmother had taken a particular liking to you – as he’d expected – and he could tell that you were relieved by it. You hadn’t told him you were nervous about meeting his family, but he was well-acquainted with your tells. You’d relaxed within the hour, which was a feat worth celebrating.

The only issue was that his family wouldn’t leave you alone. His father had left for work pretty soon after you’d arrived – but not before you’d noted the similarities between him and his son. Though you’d said his dad had better hair.

His grandparents kept flitting between the living room and the kitchen, always finding some conversation to start before Kuroo could usher you out of there. He knew it should be annoying, but there’s something endearing about watching you talk to his grandmother so easily. And as always, his grandmother had really listened to him – he’d warned her a few days ago that you could get a bit nervous. He could see that she was doing everything she could to ensure you were comfortable.

His grandmother didn’t say anything about their earlier conversation, much to his relief. Although, he’d appreciate it if she stopped waggling her eyebrows at him whenever your back was turned.

But of course, your favourite member of his household was his dog.

He was a friendly little thing, a little bigger than usual for his breed, but with a lot of love to give. You’d bonded immediately.

“He’s beautiful,” you gasped, scratching behind the Akita’s ears. “What’s his name?”

“Kuroo Coco Sora Kuu Inu-chan.”

You blinked up at him. “Why… why so many?”

“We couldn’t agree on one name when we first got him,” Kuroo shrugged. “So he has four names.”

“Who’s responsible for Inu-chan?” You smirked, turning your attention back to Kuroo Coco Sora Kuu Inu-chan. Maybe you’d just stick with Coco.

“Well, uh…”

“Couldn’t think of anything more creative?”

“Listen.” Kuroo held up his hands, crouching down next to you. “I was like… eleven?”

“That’s no excuse.”

“I’d like to see you come up with something better,” he scoffed, placing a large hand on Coco’s head.

“Oh, easy,” you said.

“Yeah? Prove it.”

“There are much more important things to think about, you know,” his grandmother called out, her head poking from round the corner with a bright grin.

“My pride is on the line, Baa-chan,” Kuroo grinned. “If I’m going to be mocked, I’d like to see her do better.”

“Well I need to steal her for a moment,” his grandmother beamed, turning to look at you. “Just ignore him, dearie. I have something to show you,” she smiled, eyes sparkling in the very same way Tetsurou’s did when he wanted to cause some mischief. So, it ran in the family.

Next thing you knew, you were ushered to a couch with a mildly agitated Kuroo in tow.

“Take a look at these,” she said, handing you a pleather album as you sat yourself down.

“Thank you,” you smiled, placing it in your lap. It felt almost sticky, the fabric and the corners well-worn with age. Kuroo plopped himself down next to you with a sigh, pouting a little.

“Oh no,” Kuroo murmured as he noticed the object in your hands.

“Oh yes,” his grandmother chuckled.

Was this what you thought it was? You opened the book, to be greeted with – yep, that’s definitely Kuroo. As a very unfortunate-looking baby.

“Do you have to?” He groaned, sinking his face into his hand.

“Of course I do,” his grandmother said innocently. “That darling Kenma of yours found it quite amusing, didn’t he?”

You smiled at that thought. Kenma wouldn’t have been awfully expressive, but you had the feeling that Kuroo’s grandmother was just as perceptive as the boy sitting next to you. Obnoxious cleverness seemed to be a Kuroo family trait.

You turned the page, another set of baby photos ready to delight you.

“Why do you look so angry?” You laughed, pointing at one of him in a bright yellow onesie, barely four months old.

“Because they put me in that,” he said.

“What about this one?” You asked, pointing at a very forlorn-looking toddler in a crib.

“That’s probably the first moment I comprehended my mortality.”

You snorted, turning the page once more.

As you moved through his younger years, his grandmother began to regale you with the story behind each photo. You weren’t surprised to hear that there’s a chaotic element to most of them. And as she spoke, you could tell just how much she loved him. Just how proud she was of the young man he’d grown up to be.

It made the whole experience all the more fun. There’s such a wealth of love amongst these pages, a sense of genuine and total adoration for the boy in the photos. His grandmother had acted like she had gotten this out to embarrass him – but, it seemed more like she’d wanted to brag about her little golden boy.

There’s so many photos. Enough that you started to lose track.

But, you froze immediately on a certain page. Two young boys, splattered with mud. One of them’s a little taller, grinning at the camera with a volleyball in hand. The other boy was hidden behind him, eyes a little round and spooked, but the smallest of smiles on his lips.

“Is that Kenma?” You gasped, leaning forward to get a better look.

“The one and only,” Kuroo smiled.

“He looks tiny!”

“He was.”

“And that’s you?” You asked, pointing at a little boy with wild hair and a brilliant grin on his face.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, his gaze settling on your face.

“Your hair hasn’t changed,” you laughed, turning to smile at him. “Have you ever actually used a hairbrush? Or have you just made an active choice never to touch one?”

“Look.” Kuroo shifted to face you a little more directly, jabbing one finger at his hair. “You try dealing with this every morning.”

You laughed, returning to the album. You pressed a hand to your chest absent-mindedly. God, this feeling was a little overwhelming; if you were forced to put it into words, you’d settle on ‘absolute fondness’. All you knew was that looking at this photo made you feel so soft. So full of love.

“You alright?” He asked, a hand instinctively moving to your back.

“I’m fine,” you smiled. “Just a little emotional.”

For whatever reason, he couldn’t stop looking at your face. He’d seen you smile plenty of times, and the expression always looked good on you. But there's something about this smile, in this moment, that’s so mesmerising.

You didn’t notice, so engrossed in your own fondness as you look down at two of your closest friends, young, covered in mud and happy. It’s not your memory to look back on, but you’re glad you’ve been permitted a peek into it.

And Kuroo didn’t notice his grandmother watching him from the other side of the couch, observing him with a positively amused twinkle in her eye.

She could already tell just how well you two got along. How happy you could make each other. And nothing could delight her more. And even if she hadn’t been watching you interact all day, this look he was giving you right now was evidence enough of the rich affection he held for you.

She just hoped she wouldn’t have to knock some sense into the poor boy, dense as he can be.

✉

[YOU] 9:33 PM: tetsu

[YOU] 9:33 PM: tetsu tetsu tetsu

[emotionally constipated] 9:33 PM: mm?

[YOU] 9:33 PM: i need photos of coco Right Now

[emotionally constipated] 9:33 PM: that’s inu-chan to you

[YOU] 9:33 PM: tetsu i’m Desperate

[YOU] 9:33 PM: i need to see him

[YOU] 9:34 PM: if i don’t see him i’ll Die

[YOU] 9:34 PM: also please tell your grandmother that i adore her

[emotionally constipated] 9:34 PM: hahah i’m glad you had such a good time

[YOU] 9:35 PM: i really did :(

[YOU] 9:35 PM: can i move into your attic?

[emotionally constipated] 9:35 PM: no

✧ ✧ ✧

"They're going to be a handful," you smiled, zipping up your bag.

"Yeah," he chuckled, looking down at your hunched form. "But you're already attached to them, right?"

"They're sweet," you said, standing up. "And, I think they've got a lot of potential."

"For giving Yaku an aneurism, maybe."

"But Tetsurou," you grinned, "that's the best part!"

"Got it in for Yaku, have you?" He raised an eyebrow at you, but he did a pretty poor job of wiping the smile off his own face.

"Don't push your agenda onto me," you chuckled. "I'm not the one who had stupid little spats with him, you know."

"What can I say? I was young and foolish, once upon a time."

"You say that like you're a geriatric."

"I've grown a lot this past year," he sighed, holding up his hands.

You shot him a look; one that's supposed to tell him how very silly he was. But he'd been getting better at reading in-between the lines, and he knew that there's fondness there. A deep, untempered well of fondness that neither of you knew how to put into words.

"Bold words, from someone who still laughs at the word 'cock'." That wasn’t quite what he’d expected you to say, but they were certainly words he had to defend himself against.

"Look, I'm just saying that it’s exactly the sort of word they'd use in porn–"

"Oh, so you do watch it then?"

It’s not that he thought there’s anything all that wrong with watching porn. He’s a teenager – he was going to get curious. And that was fine. But the thought of you knowing about it made him nervous. What if you thought less of him for it, for whatever reason? What if the knowledge made you uncomfortable?

"I–" He stuttered, painfully aware of how clammy his hands were."I didn't necessarily say that–"

"Then how do you know?" A smile he didn’t quite like spread across your face.

"I just– Yamamoto–"

"I can't believe you'd throw him under the bus like this!" You gasped.

"I'm not, I'm just relaying a fact–" He could feel his ears burning.

"And here I was, thinking you'd be the sort of captain who'd look out for his teammates. You know what, Tetsurou? I'm surprised and disappointed." You were having far too much fun with this. And he was playing right into your hands.

"I can't believe you're persecuting me for no good reason." He tried to find his footing again, to try and turn it on you. He knew it’s not going to work, but it’s worth a try.

"I have a perfectly adequate reason, thank you very much."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"You're a teenage boy. You know… a scourge on this planet." You lowered your voice, as if you were letting him in on a dark secret.

"Excuse me?"

"I meant what I said."

"Then why be our manager, hm? Why subject yourself to the company of teenage boys every day?"

You laughed. He knew he loved the sound a little more than he should. "Well, you got me there."

He smiled at you. God, he hoped his face wasn’t giving too much away.

You’re just chatting in a gym. Just acting like teenagers. But it's the type of moment he's grateful for. The sort that made him feel bad for that multitude of other universes where he didn’t have the privilege of knowing you. He felt a little cocky about it, too, even if that's a bit childish.

"Hurry up," he sighed, nudging you with his elbow. "I wanna go home."

"Yeah, yeah," you sighed. "Thank you, by the way."

"Hm?"

"For still walking me home," you smiled up at him. "I don't think I've said thanks yet."

"Pft." Kuroo shook his head. "You don't deserve it, I can tell you that."

You faked a gasp, one hand on your chest. "And here I thought we were friends."

"And here I thought that you held me in higher esteem," he chuckled.

"Huh?" You tilted your head at him as you walked towards the doors of the gym.

"You think I'm just a… you know," he grinned, leaning down closer to you. He didn’t catch the blush on your cheeks as you stepped out into the dusk. "A teenage boy."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Wow, you really took that to heart, huh?"

"Here I am, subjecting myself to the mortifying ordeal of being known, and you have the gall to speak to me like this," he sighed, looking up to the sky.

"Oh, you're not so bad," you giggled, looping your arm through his. He thought his heart might give out, small as the gesture may be. "If it makes you feel any better… you're my favourite teenage boy."

Oh, now that's just too much.

"Oi," he barked, nudging you a little roughly. You just laughed. "You can't just say shit like that."

"Why not?"

"Because–" The words caught in his throat, and he didn’t quite know what to say. There were so many ways this could go; some of them were frankly terrifying. "You've just gotta warn a guy before being that sappy, alright?"

So, he evaded.

"I'll be more careful next time," you bit your lip. But you smiled.

✉

[the worst member of the kuroo household] 12:24 AM: fyi, if i did in fact watch porn, i'd want you to know that i'd ensure it was ethically sourced

[YOU] 12:24 AM: tetsurou it is 12:30 in the morning

[YOU] 12:24 AM: what does this even mean

[YOU] 12:24 AM: why do i need to know this

[YOU] 12:24 AM: what are you even doing up

[YOU] 12:24 AM: don't tell me–

[YOU] 12:25 AM: omg do 10 cents of your proceeds go to farmers

[YOU] 12:25 AM: OMG sustainable porn

[YOU] 12:25 AM: i'm so proud of you for doing your part for the environment :')

[the worst member of the kuroo household] 12:25 AM: WHY ARE YOU ASSUMING THE WORST

[the worst member of the kuroo household] 12:25 AM: I'M NOT DLKDDKLJ I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT I'M NOT SUPPORTING A SHITTY INDUSTRY OKAY

[the worst member of the kuroo household] 12:26 AM: i know parts of it are bad and exploitative and if i did so happen to consume that kind of content, i'd avoid that. that's all i'm trying to say

[YOU] 12:26 AM: omg, look at you supporting indie artists

[the worst member of the kuroo household] 12:26 AM: i'm losing my mind–

[YOU] 12:26 AM: it's okay, for your sake i'll pretend i can't read

[the worst member of the kuroo household] 12:26 AM: please don't send this to yaku

[YOU] 12:27 AM: :)

[the worst member of the kuroo household] 12:29 AM: wait, what are you even doing up?

[YOU] 12:29 AM: ;) none of your business, that's what

[the worst member of the kuroo household] 12:30 AM: DON'T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT

[YOU] 12:30 AM: ;)

✧ ✧ ✧

Kuroo didn’t mean to stare. It’s just that during practice, his gaze always found its way back to you.

He just liked making sure you’re doing okay. During second year, he’d check for signs of anxiety or discomfort; you had understandably feared a hit from a stray ball, and you had seemed to find the third years too intimidating to really connect with. But now?

Now, he had the pleasure of watching you flourish. You managed to get along with each member of the team so well, from Inuoka to Kenma. You always seemed to know the right thing to say, the right way to encourage them (or in a certain setter’s case, when to give them some space). To varying degrees, they’d come to rely on you – both as a manager, and as a friend. You hadn’t shied away from the challenge. You’d taken the time to get to know each and every one of them; ‘my kids,’ as you’d called them in conversation with your other third years. Yaku had kicked up a fuss to that little moniker, but he was outnumbered.

Most importantly, you were smiling a lot more. Kuroo knew that those feelings you were grappling with didn’t go away overnight. They didn’t pack themselves up and disappear because you’d found one good thing in life. But there’s relief in knowing you’ve got people to rely on, people who helped make you smile. He knew, for certain, that you had a support system that adored you. And he couldn’t feel more humbled to be a part of it.

So, maybe he wasn’t just checking to see if you’re okay. Not anymore, at least.

No, he just liked seeing you be happy.

At that moment, you were sat on the ground, bandages in your lap with a water bottle and bunch of bananas to one side and Lev to the other. You were tending to an minor injury he’d gotten as the result of a rather stupid little accident. Kuroo was close enough that he could hear you; as per usual with Lev, you were gently reprimanding him. With good reason.

“You’ve gotta be more careful,” you hummed, wrapping a bandage gently around Lev’s finger. You weren’t quite sure what had happened – as far as you could tell, he’d somehow tried to hit the ball incorrectly? – but Lev had to sit out for a while.

And he hated it. He wasn’t very good at masking his emotions. Nor did he feel much of a need to even try.

“I am,” he whined, pouting at you. You hadn’t known him for all that long, in the grand scheme of things. But Lev was a pretty easy guy to pin down.

Your eyes flashed as you looked up at him, and he wilted.

“You just wanted to look cool, didn’t you?”

“Well what’s the point if I don’t look cool?” He grumbled, shoulders slouching.

You laughed, patting him on the arm. “You do realise volleyball isn’t all about looking cool, right? I’ve heard Kuroo try and explain that to you far too many times.”

Out of all the first years, Lev had been the most… difficult. Inuoka was good-natured if excitable, Shibayama was gentle and well-meaning, and Teshiro was generally well-behaved.

But Lev? Lev was a force of nature. You’d call him a whirlwind, but that didn’t seem wild enough. He was something like an earthquake and a fire storm happening all that once. And he didn’t seem to have any awareness of that.

“Now, try to be more careful,” you smiled, tilting your head at him. “I want to see you out on the court! I love seeing that spike of yours!”

Lev beamed at that, his shoulders perking right up. If there was one thing Lev responded well to, it was praise. You just had to work out how to use that to your advantage. By some stroke of luck, he happened to be quite fond of you. That, at least, made your job easier.

“But, you’ve got to listen to Kuroo more,” you sighed, standing up and crossing your arms. “And Yaku, for that matter. If you want to become Nekoma’s ace, you’ve got to get pretty damn good at defense, too.”

Lev opened his mouth to reply, but you shook your head. “Trust me. You’ll shoot your way to the top in no time.”

He made a little sound in the back of his throat, wiggling his now bandaged finger.

“And eat this,” you sighed, handing him a banana. “Keep your sugars up.”

Lev wasn’t looking at you or the banana. Instead, he was staring at something beyond you, his eyes glinting with a certain intensity you’d come to dread.

“What are you staring at?” You frowned, looking over your shoulder.

“If I got enough of a running start, do you think I could jump over the net?”

“Lev, no!”

Across the gym, Kuroo bit his lip, holding back a cackle.

You’d really stepped into your role as manager, hadn’t you? You’d lost much of that initial nervousness, and you’d bonded with the first years quite well. You talked freely with the team, and you weren’t afraid to speak up if you had an idea or an observation. You laughed a lot more, too; whether that be at some of the antics the first years got up to or at Fukunaga’s puns or at Yamamoto being Yamamoto. No matter the source, he was always glad to hear the sound of your laugh ring out in the gym.

You seemed happy; joyful, even. Knowing that you had people you connected with, people you felt comfortable with was a relief. The team was closer now than it had ever been – and you’d even admitted to him, very quietly, that you felt a bit less lonely. That alone made Kuroo feel like he’d made the right choice in wrangling you this mad little group.

“You’re so obvious,” Yaku scoffed, rolling his eyes at Kuroo.

Kuroo flinched, taken completely unawares. He looked to his side quickly, noting that both Yaku and Kai were giving him a certain knowing look that he didn’t like. Whatever they were thinking, it wasn’t good.

“Hah?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow at his friend, pushing away the scant bit of panic that gripped his chest.

“Staring at her during every practice isn’t exactly subtle,” Yaku snorted, wiping his forehead. “She’s going to catch on eventually.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kuroo mumbled, lifting his water bottle to his lips.

Kai chuckled, bringing one fist up to cover his mouth.

“Oi,” Kuroo huffed, “Stop it.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Yaku grinned. “For now.”

“Shut up,” Kuroo bunted Yaku’s back with one knee, violently hoping that his cheeks weren’t all red.

“You’re really punching above your weight, you know,” Yaku sighed, propping his hands on his hips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Oh, it’s on.

Across the gym, you walked up to Kenma, a frown on your face.

“I thought those two were supposed to have sorted things out?” You frowned, looking at Yaku and Kuroo mouthing off at each other. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but they looked fervent.

Kenma shrugged. “I dunno. They’re both pretty easy to rile up, so…”

You smiled to yourself. Sure, everyone on the team was a little stupid in their own way. But that’s what made them all so endearing. So endearing, in fact, that you wanted to look after them as best you could.

And you honestly tried not to play favourites. But it’s hard for you to not pay particular attention to a certain middle blocker.

✉

[YOU] 9:46 PM: yaku asked me to tell you to stop bullying him

[ethically sourced :)] 9:46 PM: I WASN’T BULLYING HIM

[YOU] 9:46 PM: but you were shouting at him

[ethically sourced :)] 9:47 PM: he deserved it

[YOU] 9:47 PM: i’ll be the judge of that

[YOU] 9:47 PM: what were you even arguing about?

[ethically sourced :)] 10:12 PM: doesn’t matter

[ethically sourced :)] 10:12 PM: anyway do you think it’s possible to pavlov lev?

[YOU] 10:12 PM: that’s one way to derail the conversation

[YOU] 10:16 PM: with what?

[ethically sourced :)] 10:16 PM: praise

[ethically sourced :)] 10:16 PM: specifically from you

[YOU] 10:16 PM: LKJDDKJL why?

[ethically sourced :)] 10:16 PM: because there’s nothing more motivating than that

[ethically sourced :)] 10:18 PM: for the first years

[ethically sourced :)] 10:18 PM: i meant for the first years

[ethically source :)] 10:20 PM: not me :)

[YOU] 10:21 PM: you know tetsu, lying is bad for the soul

✧ ✧ ✧

"Yeah, but who are we gonna date?" You huffed, brow furrowed as you glared at the screen. The synths of Persona 5’s idle music provided a deceptively soothing ambience as you made the protagonist run around in circles.

The two of you sat on your bedroom floor with a smorgasbord of snacks, your backs relaxed against your bed frame. This issue of ‘who should we date?’ had been a consistent topic of conversation for the past two weeks. Kuroo was sure that it’d never get resolved.

"My vote's for Makato," he shrugged, reaching into the bag of chips and taking a handful.

"You're so typical," you scoffed, shaking your head.

"Look," he laughed, "We can date Ann if you really want to."

"I'm just confused as to why you don't want to." You pouted at him as you sat with your backs against your bed, shoulders pressed together.

The issue of Takamaki Ann had been a surprising one to you; your argument was that she’d been the protagonist’s second friend, and had a wonderful bond with him. Kuroo had been less convinced.

"It's not that I don't want to," Kuroo grinned. "It just feels like… I'm giving in."

"Giving in?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "You know."

"To… the boobs?"

He cackled at that. "That's one way of putting it."

"But she's an angel," you pouted. "It's not her fault she got put in the latex catsuit."

Kuroo grinned. "See, it's fine for you if you wanna date her. If I choose Ann, then I'm the target audience, you know? I've given into the whole pervert thing."

"I think you're forgetting that you can date your teacher in this game."

"I'd genuinely blocked that out."

You smiled at him, and his heart squeezed a little. He couldn't say why, though.

"Alright, compromise. Who did Kenma date?"

"Uh… last time he played, he did the whole harem thing."

"The whole harem?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Including the teacher?"

"Of course."

You stared at him for a moment, expression something akin to shock.

"It was for an achievement," Kuroo shrugged.

“There’s... a harem achievement?” You frowned.

“Nah,” he shook his head. “But you get an achievement for dating all the romance options, and he didn’t really want to play the game ten times over.”

"Oh," you nodded. "Right."

A pause.

"He doesn't have a favourite?"

"I guess if he was forced to pick, he'd go with Futaba."

"Makes sense," you nodded, a little pout on your face. Kuroo couldn’t help but smile at the look on your face.

Kuroo chuckled, shaking his head. “And does it not make sense for me to choose Makato?”

“I didn’t say that,” you rolled your eyes, pressing your arm against his.

He grinned, reaching over and plucking the controller from your hands.

“Hey!”

“It’s my turn to play,” he smiled. “And I’m going to go and hang out with Makato.”

You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. You’d been doing that more and more recently. He still wasn’t quite used to it. “I’m not saying you can’t like her. I mean, she's great, but… Ann's right there."

He didn’t say that it’s because Makato kind of reminded him of you. She’s smart, if a little stupid sometimes. You’re not the same person by any stretch of the imagination, but he couldn’t get the association out of his head when he had first noticed it. It had endeared her towards him – maybe more than it should have.

There was certainly some irony in the fact that she was the girl you were least interested in dating.

You gasped suddenly, sitting up straight.

"What?" Kuroo frowned, disguising genuine concern with annoyance.

"There's still another team member we haven't met yet, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"What if we want to date her?"

Kuroo laughed, resting his head against the bed. It’s nice to see you get invested in this so much. There’s something of a mix between pride and delight in his chest, knowing he’d brought you something that made you smile. There’s a part of him that wanted to make sure you’ve always got something to smile about.

He’s relieved, really, that you had agreed to play this with him. It was quite the commitment – Kenma’s playthrough had ended up being what, one-hundred and thirty hours? – but Kuroo had asked you if you’d be up for it anyway.

You’d agreed, and he’d felt unreasonably delighted by that. It was a bit stupid, but he liked that the game gave him a reason to spend time with you. Well, even more time with you. When Kenma had told him just how long a single playthrough took, Kuroo had immediately presented the game to you.

It’s not like the two of you were spending less time together. It’s not even like he needed to have a consistent reason to spend time with you either. It had become something of a routine to spend every second evening at either of your houses; the general idea was still to study, but it was easier and easier to get distracted these days. Not that he was letting you get lazy or anything like that. There was just too much to talk about.

Hell, you even knew each other’s families quite well at this point. Your family loved him, much to his relief. And, his family still adored you. His grandparents were still sending him knowing looks over dinner, even when you weren’t there. If he so much as mentioned your name in conversation, they’d start chuckling.

It’s just that you’re a part of his life now. Someone who brought him comfort. Someone who could help him relax. And he wanted to hold onto that as best as he could.

✉

[YOU] 12:01 PM: tetsu

[YOU] 12:01 PM: testu tetsu

[YOU] 12:01 PM: i desperately need your help :(

[tetsuwu] 12:01 PM: are you okay?

[tetsuwu] 12:01 PM: what can i do?

[YOU] 12:06 PM: i can’t stop changing my mind about which girl to date

[tetsuwu] 12:06 PM: oh my

[tetsuwu] 12:06 PM: GOD you had me genuinely worried

[YOU] 12:07 PM: :)

[tetsuwu] 12:07 PM: we can date ann if you really want

[YOU] 12:07 PM: it’s just that i think she’s the best match for the protagonist, you know?

[tetsuwu] 12:07 PM: yeah

[tetsuwu] 12:07 PM: the silent protagonist who barely has a personality except for what you project onto him

[YOU] 12:08 PM: D: so utilitarian

[tetsuwu] 12:08 PM: what? i’m right

[YOU] 12:09 PM: but tetsu my Immersion

[tetsuwu] 12:09 PM: you’ll live

[tetsuwu] 12:09 PM: also for the love of god can we please change my name from tetsuwu

[YOU] 12:09 PM: >:)

✧ ✧ ✧

"I'm excited!" You beamed up at him, notebook clutched to your chest and jacket tied around your waist.

"You sure you can handle it?" He grinned, ruffling your hair habitually. "There's gonna be a lot of teenage boys running about. I'm not sure you're ready for such unbridled chaos."

“Surely they can’t be much worse than our kids,” you smiled. “I mean, there’s Karasuno. But I’m as used to them as I can be. I think.”

“Bold of you to assume that you’d ever be used to Karasuno,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” you laughed. “I used to think that our kids were super chaotic, but then…”

Kuroo smiled to himself. Seeing you get so excited for this training camp did his heart some good.

He couldn’t have imagined you being like this when he had first met you in second year; you’d really begun to open up, to express yourself. You were actually looking forward to working with the other managers. You’d even spoken about making friends with them. Honestly, it’s sweet.

“Don’t forget to do your work, though,” he yawned as the two of you came to a stop in front of your house. Practice had run a little later than usual, which had messed up his plans a bit. He’d wanted to get home to work on his literature essay – the current bane of his existence – and to get your help.

“Yeah, yeah,” you smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m on top of things. That timetable you made me really helps.”

He felt a little swell of pride at that. The study timetable had been primarily a test run, a set of suggestions he’d put forward in an attempt to help you quell your anxieties. But, it had worked wonderfully. He’d done his best to account for your study habits, practice, and the fact that the two of you literally couldn’t get through twenty minutes without having a conversation that went completely off topic.

Suffice to say that even he was impressed with how effective the timetable had actually been.

“Anyway,” you yawned, waving at him as you turned to open your front door. “Goodnight.”

“Oh, before you go,” he cleared his throat, making you turn back around.

“Everything okay?” You asked.

“Can I be a bother and ask you to read over my literature essay?” He asked, scratching the back of his neck. “I know it’s late, but…”

“Sure,” you nodded. “On one condition.”

He paused. He’d said those words to you once, hadn’t he?

“You want me to buy you yakisoba, don’t you?” He grinned, pushing that little memory aside.

You pouted. “How’d you know?”

“You’ve been craving it all week.”

“Oh.” Your pout deepened. You always pulled this expression when he managed to be one step ahead.

“I’ll do it,” he shrugged. “But only because I’m desperate.”

You let out a little ‘whoop’, turning back to your door with a little jump. God, you could be so cute sometimes.

And then you were gone, flying through your front door with a simple, “see you later, Tetsu!”

He watched you go with a frown etched on his brow.

It's an inconspicuous little revelation, almost annoying in its mundanity.

How hadn't he noticed you before? Why had it taken you begging him for help for him to look your way?

You were captivating.

It's in the way your eyes lit up whenever you spoke about your passions – even if it was just which girl you should date in a video game. It's in the variations of your laugh, each timbre seemingly tailored to each brand of stupid thing he might say. It's in how your hands tended to each and every member of the team with such sincere adoration. Even with him.

It's how you’re in all of him. In every thought, every decision, every absent-minded daydream. In each and every time he stopped and wondered, "what would she think?" In how every time he learned something new, saw something funny, he wanted to tell you about it. In how he'd structure his week around when he got to spend time with you.

But he's just a high school student. Just a boy.

And that's not how love had been explained to him. Not as something so quiet. Not as something so natural, so comfortable, with someone who brought him such comfort. Love was supposed to be difficult, challenging. It was supposed to choke you. Love was supposed to slap you in the face, demanding and all-consuming.

So, he figured it must not be love. He hoped it's not love. It must have been something else entirely.

What that was, he didn’t know.

✉

[father of nine] 10:36 PM: here’s my essay

[father of nine] 10:36 PM: please tell me it makes some sense

[YOU] 10:36 PM: shh stop being so hard on yourself

[YOU] 10:37 PM: it can’t be worse than inuoka’s history essay, bless his soul

[father of nine] 10:37 PM: you’re an angel, thanks

[father of nine] 10:37 PM: * angle

[YOU] 10:37 PM: you say that like i’m not doing this for a price

[father of nine] 10:37 PM: you say that like you wouldn’t crack eventually

[YOU] 10:38 PM: oh, so you’ve got the gall to push your luck, do you?

[father of nine] 10:38 PM: :)

#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou imagine #kuroo imagine #kuroo scenario #haikyuu imagine #haikyuuwritersnet #this is incoherent but i had Fun #and That's What Matters #the in between

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antoxsmith · 4 years

Text

I Put A Spell On You (Part 1)

Warnings - Negan Being Negan, Awkward Reader

Pairings - Negan x Reader

Summary - Reader wants Negan to notice her, so she casts a binding spell. Not that she ever thought it would work.

“What the hell do you mean? Like magic? Sorcery? That kinda shit?”

“Hey, don’t be disrespectful!” The woman gave you a stern look over her deep colored eyes, still shifting the violet cards between her fingers. “Sit, child.” She spoke again, but this time it was barely a tranquil murmur. A little skeptical, you bit the insides of your cheek and sat down in front of her improvised reading table.

You had just been scavenging, Simon ordered you to go alone to that little house down the hill, saying you could handle whatever was inside.

He probably didn’t think some woman that claims to read the future and do witchcraft would be it. But anyway; you were bored, this woman claimed she would do it for a can of beans and you were more than curious.

“Oh, I see. You don’t believe just yet.” The odd-looking woman spoke, extending the palm of her hand towards you. Still in doubt, you gave her your left hand. “Oh, honey…” She murmured as soon as she touched you. You quickly frowned.

“What? You just touched me!” You addressed defensively. There was no way she saw something negative that quick.

“Shh! I am trying to concentrate.” She shushed you, closing her eyelids. You sighed, but did as you were told, instead looking over her strange outfit. How did she manage to make it in this world if she was acting like this? She was even wearing a big green turban that was way too loose for her. “Oh, I see. Determined. Dreamy. A bit barbaric and demanding. And an authoritarian. That’s good.” Just then did she look up to you again. “I’d normally ask, but I see your intentions just fine. Tell me about him.”

You frowned nervously; your lips curling, weirded out. “Uhm… W-Who?” You asked. She was right about everything she said about you and it was scary as hell.

“Him. I see a man all over your head. You want him to notice you; don’t you?” She asked, titling her head and maintaining eye contact. You bit your lip, embarrassed, and looked away. “Don’t worry, honey. You are paying for this, remember? So. Tell me about him, sweetie.”

You sighed softly and nodded, remembering the can of beans. “Well, uh- He is admirable. And captivating. He is a natural leader, actually uhm… my leader- my communities’ leader, I mean.” You mumbled, noticing you were starting to trail off. “Also, he is very, very humorous and… well, I guess some people think he is hostile but I think he is just very good at hiding what he feels. Oh! And moralistic too.” You chuckled softly, unaware of your sparkling eyes.

“Mm… I understand. I see.” She looked up to him as if she had just realized something and leaned forward; urging you to do so too. “Do you want him really, really bad?” She asked, making you blush horribly.

“Well… yes. I do.” You nodded with honesty.

“Then close your eyes and just think about him.”

You were a bit skeptical still, but something inside of you told you to do as you were told. After a little uncertainty, you finally did. You thought about Negan, the way he spoke, the way he walked. The little times he would talk to you or command you to do something. You thought about how much to admired him and how much you wanted him to notice you more than just a lieutenant. So locked inside your head that you didn’t hear her weird murmurs in another language.

“…And that’s it, sweetie.”

As you heard her calling for you, you opened your eyes again, weirded out. You didn’t feel different, not at all.

“Uhm… That’s what, exactly?” You asked.

“You’ll see. Negan, right?” She asked and you slowly nodded, trying no to freak out. “Well, that’ll be a can of beans for me.” She chuckled, letting go of your hand.

You frowned, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Alright. But if you just played me, I’ll-“

“I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You frowned again, crinkling your nose and reaching for your backpack to give her the damn food. You placed it over the table and pinched your nose as you made your way out of that place, not saying another word. It felt weird inside of that place and you just really wanted to get out. Plus, Simon was probably kind of preoccupied by now.

A few hours later you were finally arriving to The Sanctuary. It was already very dark and you were all covered with blood. After going out of that hill you had encountered a horde and it was kind of hard to get out of it. It made you forget about that strange lady almost completely. Almost.

“Good job everyone. Go change to your rooms and-“ Simon was speaking to your group, when you all heard it. Negan’s whistles. The sound of it made your skin tickle, but you were reminded about reality when everyone around you kneeled as the loud and heavy footsteps aproached. You quickly did the same and fixed your gaze on the ground beneath you.

“Simon! There you are. The man of the hour!” Negan’s rough voice echoed inside of you and made you bite your lip. His aura wasn’t something anyone could ignore. “Why the hell are a bunch of my men covered in guts and blood, Simon? Aren’t you supposed to take care of them?” He asked. You didn’t dare to look up, just knowing he was getting on Simon’s face. “Also; I remember you went out to scavenge. And scavenge you did fucking not. What is this shit? A few cans of… whatever is this shit?” He asked, raising his voice.

“We couldn’t find more, boss-“ Simon tried to answer. As you heard a loud thud, some of you found the courage to look up, scared to see Simon’s head rolling. It wasn’t. It was just Lucille smacking against the wall. Negan chuckled, noticing the horror on some of your faces.

“I expect more from my best men…” He said, reading over everyone’s faces on the ground. You felt your breath and your pulse getting quicker. As his eyes found yours, he furrowed his brows, something switching inside of him. “…and women.” He mentioned, not leaving your eyes for a few seconds.

You gulped, trying to keep a neutral look on your face as you looked back down to the ground. That… that was weird. Why did he look at you like that? Like he…

Like he noticed you?

Everything was blocked now. Only did you come back to reality when you felt everyone around you getting up from the ground. As if in trance, you did the same.

It couldn’t be, right? It was probably just a mere coincidence. Also, it was just a look. You couldn’t get so nervous and aroused from a simple look. Talk about overreacting.

As you were about to turn on the hallway, you felt a hand closing around your wrist softly. In anxiety and with everything still inside your head, you quickly snapped and threw a punch to anyone who was touching you.

“Oh! Oh God- Boss, I am sorry-“ You started saying, thankful that no one was around to see how you just punched Negan’s nose, the dark hallway way too silent and dark for that. You almost couldn’t make out it was Negan… well, only if you hadn’t spent hours studying him. He quickly put the palm of his hand up, telling you to shut the fuck up; as his other hand covered his face and rubbed the area. Of course, you were too stupid to do as you were told. “I swear I didn’t mean to- Please, please don’t Lucille me; I have too much to live yet!” You claimed.

Just as this couldn’t get worse, Negan’s hand lowered and the look of hurt quickly faded; instead, being replaced by amusement and… laughter?

Was he really making fun of you right now?

“Please don’t Lucille me? “He imitated your voice with a high pitch. “What’s that, honey?” He started laughing out loud. You bit your lip, trying not to feel worse. Instead, his laughter giving you time to notice him. Notice his beautiful eyes, his dimples, and how fucking close he was. Even as he was mocking you, he made you feel… grand. Better. Not to mention he just called you honey.

“I’m sorry.” You said again and pouted softly. “Does it hurt?” You asked, your hands uncontrollably going up to his face. He seemed like he wanted to back away from your touch, his laughter quickly coming to an end. But he didn’t. He stayed there.

“You’ve got a great fist.” He smiled softly down to you, somehow enjoying the way your eyes scouted his skin concernedly. Had been a while.

Yeah, a long, long while since someone had looked at him like they truly, deeply cared.

She noticed what she was doing and awkwardly put her hands away from his tough skin. “So… you won’t Lucille me?” You asked, teasing him. It didn’t fail to make him giggle like a kid.

“What is that anyway?” He titled his head, your hands finally leaving his face.

“Well… you know. When you bash people’s heads in?” She mumbled, looking down a bit nervous. “Some people call it that. But don’t worry. We still fear you.”

“You fear me?” He raised an eyebrow, a cocky tone making its way and clicking his tongue. He leaned on the wall and looked down to you as if you were some kind of snack. And you were still covered in blood.

“Uhm... No? Nope. I don’t think so.” You looked up to him through your lashes. “Uhm… boss?” You asked, even though you already had his full attention.

“Yes?” He asked, licking his lips.

“I- Eh, I should go take a shower.” You mumbled, looking down to his lips. It was impossible not to. He nodded slowly, both of you noticing how tense the air was getting. You titled your head and smiled softly, now messing with him. “Do you even know my name?”

He seemed to snap himself out of his thoughts. “Not yet. I’m fucking surprised I haven’t seen you before. Come see me tomorrow, will you, baby girl?”

Fuck.

Not that nickname.

PART 2

So! This will probably be like 4 or 5 chapters long. But it really depends on what y’all think. I’m also open to ideas!

Love you :) xox

#negan #negan x oc #negan x reader #negan x original female character #negan x you #negan x y/n #The Walking Dead #the walking dead negan #fanfic #writing

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capricornus-rex · 3 years

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (6)

Chapter 6: No, There Is Another | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

A/N: Sorry it took so long, you guys! ;;w;; What with the holidays and me managing what to order for my 24th birthday today (It’s the 27th where I live so we’re celebrating in a quite chill way heheh), so this is my birthday treat to you! A new chapter! 💖💖

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

7 of ?

19 BBY

Irele, her stepbrother Owen, and his now-wife Beru Lars live together in the same roof. After their father had died of natural causes, they placed him next to the grave of Shmi, as they deem it appropriate; they have taken full control of the homestead, though their ways didn’t change that much.

Now thirteen years old, Irele Skywalker had grown into the spitting image of Shmi Skywallker albeit younger. Medium length hair always secured as a ponytail with thin braids woven along the tail, warm and earthy-colored eyes, and a somber yet friendly smile.

The teenager had grown into an adventurous young spirit. Perhaps, if one is to see Shmi as a girl, she would have been the exact same as her daughter. Gaining friends in Anchorhead and even as far as Mos Eisley, though she had learned to steer clear of the latter town unless the need truly arises. Taking odd jobs in either of the towns, her hustler’s nature remained intact, she did not want to depend heavily on her brother and sister-in-law for monetary support—albeit Owen strongly disagrees, but to not avail.

“You’ve been out more often than staying at home!” chided Owen, who was now perhaps in his early thirties.

“Well, I do need to work, don’t I, big brother?” she tapped his bulky arm as she strolled into the house.

She had just returned from her work in the shop that’s a hybrid of a speeder vendor and a servicing center. Whether she realizes it or not, she always finds herself tinkering with something, fixing them… like her real brother’s pastime as a child.

Irele had taken home a piece of a machine to her house, a personal project of sorts, completely unrelated to her work. She settled herself on the small worktable in her bedroom and immediately casts her lamp’s light on the working space. A metal rod put together with various, mismatching shafts and components held together by screws and sewn leather wrappings; it’s even a miracle that it worked, one way or another, it would serve better as a melee weapon than that of a Magnaguard’s electro-staff. Perhaps this staff is one of the many testaments of Irele’s skillfulness and resourcefulness, for growing up as a hustler and being exposed to machinery at an early age.

As she grew, she always donned a woven scarf made by Shmi. It has been a few years or so, and the heartache is very much fresh; every time she catches a glimpse of her headstone, with Cliegg’s next to it, the healing wound is ripped open once again—though she found comfort in confiding and speaking to both of them as if they were still alive, sitting with her and listening.

“Oh, circuitry should be here. Mom would have pointed that out too.” she mumbled to herself as she fiddled the wires with the sharp end of a thin screwdriver.

Come the hour of sunset, Irele had finished her chores after her handicraft. In the middle of her working, she felt a presence—it was sage and calming—she also heard the grunting of a single eopie. Curious, she and Beru went to the door. She was right about the eopie, carrying a single rider who held the reins with only one hand and is carrying something with the other. Irele thought the hooded rider to be her brother, as she remembered his own cloak, but the cowl revealed a slightly older man—his jaw was covered with a full, sandy-brown beard, his eyes were kind and yet she hinted the sadness in them, as if tragedy had befell him shortly before coming here.

It was Obi-Wan.

When the stranger coaxed the animal to kneel, he carefully hopped down, and supported his precious cargo with his free arm. He approaches the older girl and she willingly takes what he gave. The wide sleeve of his robe gave way to show an infant boy, perhaps a few weeks old. Beru and Irele’s eyes lit up, they spoke nothing to the stranger but they bid him with a short, polite bow.

Obi-Wan noticed the second girl, her olive skin and brown eyes gave him a memory of Anakin—the reminder sharply jabbed him into the recesses of his mind. The angry voices, the echoes of the sputtering lava, and the sorrowful howling of Anakin drummed behind his ears.

“Are you alright, sir?” Irele noticed.

“Oh, dear. I am fine, thank you,” he cleared his throat and tucked his arms inside his sleeves. “I am just not used to travel here in this place… but I will be.”

“I see.”

“My dear, may I know your name?”

“It is Irele…”

“Irele…?”

“Irele Skywalker-Lars.”

Obi-Wan slowly angled his head upwards, concealing his surprise as her name sinks into him.

Another Skywalker?

“Well, Irele,” he cleared his throat again. “May I ask a favor from you?”

“I’ll do my best to fulfill it.”

“I’m sure you can,” Obi-Wan’s gaze went to Beru carrying the baby who joined her husband, Owen, looking at the binary sunset. “Take care of him.”

“I don’t mean to sound uptight but… Who is he to me?”

“He’s your family. Your nephew. His name is Luke.”

Irele was a smart girl. She knew whose son the infant would have belonged to. A part of her wanted to ask where the father is—her brother—but perhaps it was for the best that she does not obligate the stranger to indulge her questions.

“Then I’ll do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

“I know, Irele,” Kenobi smiled, although a little sadly. “I know.”

“Sir, I’m sorry but I don’t know your name.”

“Ben… Ben Kenobi.”

Kenobi did not stay long in the premises of the homestead. He bowed to Irele, who returned the gesture, and returned to his steed. The eopie grunted as Kenobi hauled the reins to the right side, then spurred the tall quadruped to the distance, clouds of sand puffing under its hooves until the figure disappears as the twin suns set.

When Kenobi was gone from her sight, she turned to her brother and sister-in-law, along with their nephew—whom Owen would have probably called his son, given the chance. Irele was excited. She was already thinking of the things she and Luke would do—what games they’d play, what machines she’d teach him to fix, what kind of speeders could they hop on together.

He was the brother she never had.

From a certain point of view, it’s a wrong that she could right, while fulfilling her promise to Kenobi.

After Beru nursed the infant, she laid him down on their bed, Irele never left Luke’s side. She chuckled every time he would squirm, coo, and smile at her. Her heart fluttered and she fell in love with him. When Beru left the two children alone, Irele tasked herself to watch over him.

She moved her finger to his tiny hand and with his tiny, soft fingers he clasped her thumb with a grip as light as a feather. Irele’s heart melted once more.

And then she whispered as she kissed the tiniest hand that held hers, “I’ll keep you safe, Luke. I’ll always protect you.”

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pebblysand · 3 years

Text

OF CRYSTAL ROSES (EXTENDED AUTHOR’S NOTE OF CHAPTER VI. OF CASTLES)

-- TO READ THE CHAPTER ITSELF, SEE HERE ON AO3 --

well, well, well. here we are. spoiler alert, gryffindors make plans they don’t stick to, lolz. all the good intentions in the world, i had. study, i said i would. yet, here were find ourselves, eighteen thousand words later. this appears to be how i roll. slept about five hours last night, too, so apologies if i’m slightly non-sensical/rambly. this chapter ought to be sponsored by deliveroo and teapigs tea, a brand of tea that appeared in my local supermarket a few moths ago and that i steadily refused to buy because - can tea really be worth this much? low and behold, once you’ve tried it once, it appears to be addictive. i’ve, while writing this chapter, worked my way through about four packs of their different teas - they are just this good. i have a job interview tomorrow so wish me luck in gaining employment which will hopefully fund my expensive habits.

now, before we get into the nitty gritty of the chapter, itself, i just needed to say this: i cannot thank everyone enough for the incredible response on last chapter. i’d kind of grown accustomed to getting a couple of reviews for each of them and to writing in my little corner of the internet but boy, you guys are bloody legends! i am so overwhelmed with gratitude for everyone who commented, kudo-ed and generally gave love to this fic in general. i really didn’t expect such a response and it’s meant the world to me. i think it’s probably also the reason why i’m posting so early because i kept being like, god, i can’t leave this many people waiting in this cliffhanger hell. i think this chapter ends on a more positive note (although, i’ll let you judge), one that might be more conducive of a few weeks’ wait (more on that below), haha.

this being said, as i explained on here before, i come from very tiny fandoms where basically everyone knows each other and the number of people reading would usually fit in my flat. the fact that over 80 people are now subscribed to this fic just blows my fucking mind. you’re all magnificent and i love you. i try to respond to all the comments so let’s keep chatting if you feel like it (although, no pressure - comment if you want to, but do know that it makes me very happy when you do :)). you’re all fabulous and i wish you all the best!

anyway, spoilers for castles, chapter vi under the cut.

guys, guys, guys, i am so tired. i’ve spent four days editing almost 20,000 words and my brain is fried. but, we are officially at the halfway point of this story, yaaaay!!! my plan, at this point, is that we’ll have six chapters on each side but even if i do end up splitting this one later (more on this below) i’ll end up with seven chapters on each side so either way - yay to the end of act 1!

i think that’s also why i tried to turn this chapter around this quickly. to me, i always kind of saw this fic as having two parts. part 1: the immediate post-war aftermath with the heartache and the love-fast/burn-fast start to harry/ginny. part 2: a slow and actually healthy rebuild of their relationship, and of the world around them. i have genuinely been writing towards that last harry/ginny scene in this chapter for months. it feels like such a relief to finally have that weight off my shoulders. and i actually do think it’ll allow me to focus on study later. act one is finished, and act two can wait a bit, i suppose.

now, obviously, given that i already apologised last time, part of me still wants to apologise for the length of this chapter, even more so, actually. it sits at about 18,000 words which, by nanowrimo’s standards, is over a third of a full book, wtf. yet, you guys also said last time that you didn’t actually mind long chapters, so perhaps i shouldn’t beat myself up too much?

as i said in the a/n, this is a little bit of different set up than chapter v. though. i know exactly where to split this. as you’ve probably seen by now, there’s a very natural split point after harry has his breakdown on the couch with ginny, before Christmas properly "starts." the reason i didn’t split this one there, though is: a) selfish: i needed to get this out. stop working on it. i need to study. when it’s out, i’m not thinking about it anymore. it would have been a bit non sensical to split this just for the sake of it and post two chapters at once, which means i probably would have held onto the second part for another couple of weeks, and fuck that. additionally, b) you may not have noticed this but: the chapter titles rhyme. why did i bring this additional difficulty upon myself, i do not fucking know. especially because i will soon run out of one-word construction materials to draw from, lol. as a result, though, i need an even number of chapters to close out this story and because i’m sort of planning six chapters from now to the end (more on that below) i can’t really split this one right now. like, if i end up with another overlong chapter in the next few months, i probably will take that opportunity and go back and split this one, just for readability. but at this stage, at this stage, because i don’t know how many chapters i’ll have for act two (six or seven), i’m keeping this chapter like this for the time being. i kind of hope i end up with seven chapters on the other side and am able to split this one down the line, but we will see. in the meantime, my most sincere apologies to the folks who read fanfiction before bed and it’s now 4 am by the time you’ve finished this. i’ve been there before, believe me.

from a personal standpoint, though, i have to say, this chapter (compared to the last one) was incredibly easy to write. i think i’d spent so much time imagining and writing these scenes in my head as kind of a culminating point for the first half of the story, that it quite simply poured out. i did have a little bit of an everything is shit crisis yesterday and today, but sure look, that always happens. overall, i am quite happy - i think - with the end result.

now, when i say "easy to write" i mean, technically, easy to find words to write down what was in my head. i do not mean: easy to write on an emotional level. oh boy. i’m generally not a crier. i have been asked, a number of times, by people who said my writing made them cry: do you cry when you write, too? and my answer was always ‘no’. i don’t judge, but i’m just not that kind of person. i know people who cry every day but personally, we are in the middle of a pandemic, my father recently passed away, i’ve lost my job and am studying for an exam my life is pretty dependent upon, and i haven’t cried in months. yet, i swear, there were a couple of times, both writing this and editing it, when i had to step away from the screen because i could feel a lump in my throat. that had never happened to me before. i didn’t, like, bawl or anything but god i felt it. i don’t know if it’s because it’s my first time killing an oc, someone who was really mine but boy. giulia. i kept trying to find ways not to kill her, or apologising to her. to me, she’s tom’s last victim and that really, fucking hurts. if you’re hurting too, i don’t really know what to tell you. i’m sorry, i suppose. her death was needed for … plot purposes, lol. god, i’m the worst haha.

re:harry/ginny: i must say i really like where they end up, at the end of this. i had planned this to a certain extent. i was always under the impression that they would talk over christmas, but not get back together. however, the reason why they weren’t getting back together, in my head, was initially quite different. i initially didn’t have ginny dating someone else. i think i mentioned i was toying with the idea in the a/n for last chapter, but at the time i wasn’t truly sold on it. then, i ended up writing the scene i’d originally planned for them and it didn’t quite fit. what i’d planned, at the time, felt rather ooc for ginny when actually on paper. on the other hand, harry, under my fingertips, kept trying to kiss her and i kept hitting the delete button. i swear, i know it sounds weird to people who might not be writers but sometimes, your characters really do seem to have their own agendas. when i caved, let him kiss her, then the scene took on a different meaning, and, i hope, a better one. i think something clicked there and it feels like a good place for act one to end. obviously, they’ll get back together cause this follows cannon so you know, not much suspense there. it’s more about the how than the what, to me.

re:ginny’s letters: this idea came to me a while ago, actually. i was thinking that they’d need to talk about what happened last year, but i was kind of struggling on the how. having character a tell a story to character b is always a bit difficult, in writing, because it can quickly end up being boring. like, when ginny tells harry about christmas last year and lupin, in this chapter, telling that in dialogue is already rather long an laborious, and it’s overall such a short story. for harry, it’s easy. i’m in his head so he can just say ‘he told her about the hallows’ and the dialogue can be about their reaction, rather than the events itself. but ginny, she needs to share facts, as well as feelings. and doing that through long monologues just didn’t appeal. first, it’s quickly boring and second, it’s also kind of ooc. she’s not giulia, you see.

i did entertain the idea of completely skimming past it. ‘she told him about last year and he was horrified.’ - moving on. but, i don’t know, that didn’t feel quite right either, because i think they need to exchange, and talk, and that just felt like a copout. also, to be honest, it’s a very difficult story to tell. like, i’ve seen people in fics being like ‘so, harry sat down all of the weasleys and told them everything the trio did in seventh year,’ and i’m like that’s so difficult, though. sitting someone down and telling them all about your trauma, with little preamble, just setting it all out there, i can’t imagine ginny (or, frankly, most people) actually doing that, you know? we reveal bits of ourselves bit by bit, not all at once.

then, it hit me: she’s a writer, isn’t she? at least, she is canonically in first year, with not only the diary but also the poems, then writing for the prophet. obviously, the diary thing would have riled her up a bit but i do think in the end, she would probably have been like: no, i won’t let him take writing away from me, you know? so yeah, letters. daily letters. you won’t see all of them in next chapter, but probably quotes from the most important ones, things that harry reads. that’s where he gets his facts about her story last year, and then they can focus on their feelings about it. fab! something to look forward to, haha.

now, re: the future. as i said, we are entering act two. act two will gradually become more "fun" and fluffy, i suppose, but i won’t lie, we will be keeping the same happy/sad vibe that a lot of you have commented on with this fic. it exists for a reason (as i said, life is about sex, but it’s also about funerals). as i said before, this fic is, above all, an exploration of what ‘all was well’ actually means.

this being said, this isn’t an 8th year fic. there is a very specific future pov from which this fic is being narrated, and that’s in october 2027 (i know, precise). obviously i have 28 years to get through in act two so that will affect the way that the timeline is designed. it will obviously be more spread out, especially in the later chapters. this being said, while i have about a million of ideas for all the space in between and a very clear view of what the last chapter will be, the exact layout of each chapter is still slightly blurry. i haven’t sat down to put all my ideas in chronological order yet, as well as into some sort of chapter structure, which is also why i can’t really tell if it’ll be six or seven chapters in the end. all of this to say, there’s still quite a bit of work to be done.

this means that, as i said in the a/n, i don’t think you’ll get next chapter until at least, may. please don’t think that this means i’ll be abandoning this fic or anything, it’s just that i’ll be doing work you probably won’t see. i’m probably going to take the rest of march off writing to study (bar maybe a roar-series Harry&Hermione friendship one shot? maybe) then take april to plan and write as much of the next chapters i possibly can. ideally, by the end of april i can have a first draft of the whole thing. i desperately want to write as much as i can now that I’m jobless in the hopes that when i do find a job (again, interview tomorrow, pray for me), i can just have editing to do at the weekends. but we all know i relate to harry on a very deep level when he says ‘when have our plans ever worked, anyway?’ so we will see, haha.

anyway, these were all the thoughts off the top of my head, re: this chapter. if you have any questions or other things you’d like me to ramble about, feel free to send in questions, my ask box is always open. i know i probably think about this fic (and hp) way too much but i’m an extrovert and my hobbies used to include travelling, pints at the pub, dating and, well, there’s none of that anymore, is there, lol? the uk has stolen our vaccines (fucking brexit) so here’s to being obsessed with fictional worlds i wish i could live in for a while longer,

i will now go and endlessly refresh my email for reviews and kudos, like the attention seeking basic bitch i am haha.

have a fab evening, everyone!

#castles #is out baby #whoop whoop

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hongnanglen-arina · 3 years

Text

See You On Monday | SVT Interactive AU

06: The lost wallet

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Masterlist | Previous | Next

Warnings: a little angsty if you squint? Words: 1.638 A/N: Hey there! So here’s the sixth chapter of my little experiment and I’m sorry to say that but it’s the end... for now? Maybe I will continue it next year but I’m visiting family for the next couple of weeks so it’s better that way than making you wait although there aren’t many people reading it anyways hahaha. Sorry if it was boring. There are some things in queue so it won’t get quiet on this site. Anyways, here is part 6. As always, I hope you like it ♡

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Wait, maybe the game has an autosave setting. Maybe you can continue where you left the game? Isn’t it often like this?

Determined to enter again and see how the boys are, you put on the VR glasses again and start the game. In the worst case scenario, you could just restart the game and change your previous decisions. To be completely honest with yourself, you can’t shake the thought off of you what the black pills were for.

And when the screen changes, there is really the possibility to choose ‘load’ instead of ‘new game’ only.

Without a second thought, you press ‘load’ and suddenly everything around you turns black again. Silence. When some seconds pass and you still can’t hear anything, you slowly get uncomfortable. You can’t see a thing. Turning your head around doesn’t help either.

“Hello?” You dare to ask but besides your breathing, it was still silent.

Extending your arms, you try to feel something, carefully taking small steps forward when a familiar voice hits your sensitive ears.

“Welcome back. It’s a pleasure to have you back here with us.”

The narrator.

And all of a sudden you feel your anger rising up again. “Why did the game end without me doing anything? Why am I alone here and can’t hear them anymore. More importantly, how are they??” Your questions left your mouth faster than you’ve planned but now that you said them, you impatiently wait for an answer.

“The game ended because it was the end. Your end. You can’t hear them because they aren’t here. And what do you think, how are they, hm? Any idea?”

You aren’t only angry but now annoyance is adding itself to your emotions.

“What a stupid question. They must be fine!”

“Oh, there’s is no stupid question out there.”

“Whatever. So how are they?” You stand there, looking up in hopes to see anything but your eyes are still meeting the darkness.

“It has nothing to do with you anymore. You played the game and failed.”

“But I chose ‘load’. Doesn’t it suppose to transfer myself back to the last saving point?”

“And here you are. In this dark room. You came back so I can tell you again that it’s over for you.”

“What the hell!? You are kidding me! This game was too short! Also this end sucks!”

“Different decisions, different endings,” the low voice replies coldly, making you ball your fists.

“This is really a stupid game. Who the hell would pay for it?” You scoff and try to end the game again, having enough of this bullshit, when you hear the narrator again. “You. You payed for it.”

“Hah, I didn’t!”

“You did.”

Trying to remember if you are in the right or wrong, you cock your head to the side but it didn’t help you remember so you finally turn off the game. Somehow relieved when you are back in your living room, holding the VR glasses in your hands while you are met with the cover of the game.

“I really wonder how they are.. they sounded in pain at the end…” you ask yourself out loud but without awaiting an answer. You are alone at home and this was just a game. A really bad game to begin with.

Clicking through the menu and the settings, you open the Play Station store and you see it. You actually payed for it. 5 dollars.. for what? A demo? “This was a demo? What the hell???”

You stare at the screen in disbelief. There was no way you could understand the hype at uni about this game. Even you could have planned and created a much better game.

Shaking your head, you grab your phone and unlock it on your way to the kitchen, feeling very hungry all of a sudden. You see a message from your friend.

- Wow a full day without a sign from you. I guess you are playing the game. It’s awesome, isn’t it?? Let’s talk about it tomorrow, Nighty!

Tomorrow? A full day without a sign? There are literally question marks flying above your head after reading the text on your phone screen. You read it again. Maybe you read it wrong but no. Letting your finger swipe over your screen, you check the date and time and gasp loudly. Sunday, 8:42 pm!!

Instantly your stomach growls and you cover it with your hand. How is that possible?? You just came back from uni and played the game for maybe 2 hours max. But two full days?! No way..

Still confused, you make yourself instant noodles and after a quick shower, you decide to go to bed. When you are in bed, the tiredness hits you hard. You didn’t know how exhausting the game was. The second you close your eyes, you immediately fall asleep and into a strange dream. You see the boys from the game. All 13. You even count them. You are all playing happily at the beach. The weather is beautiful, the sky blue with only a few small clouds. Feeling the sand in your shoes, you are about to take them off when Mingyu runs over to you.

“Y/n please take a photo of us. I will take one with you in it afterwards if that’s okay?”

“Oh sure!” Taking his camera, you wait until everyone stands in line, getting ready for the picture. They make grimaces and joke around but the fifth shot is okay, everyone smiling into your direction, you giving them a thumbs up. You switch positions with Mingyu and fill his spot beside Minghao but he thinks that you should stand in the middle so you switch places with Seungcheol as well, leaving Seungcheol to be in Mingyu’s place now.

You look to the left and Wonwoo gives you a wide smile which you give him back wholeheartedly. You feel happy and as if you’ve known them for a decade. Hoshi’s hand settles on the small of your back, making you look to the other side, facing him.

“Thank you for being here with us… miss ghost… miss y/n.”

Your smile falters. “W-what?”

The loud sound of your clock wakes you up the next morning. What was this dream? Even after crawling out of bed and getting ready for uni, you are still not able to shake off the thoughts about your dream last night. It feels as if they said their goodbye to you and deep inside it makes you sad. You could have done a better job in helping them and changing the story but no. You failed. You died.. or worse, they died?

When you arrive at the campus, everything was the same, despite the thoughts of the game in your head. Also the memories of the strange dream. You halfway listened to the professors and even with your friends, you can’t find the motivation to sound interested. You feel sorry but hearing about uni stuff and about the subjects for the next exams? No thanks. And hearing the people around you talk about the game? Also, no thanks. You haven’t really processed what happened over the weekend and you still feel tired. It was definitely not enough sleep you think to yourself.

Only half an hour left and you can leave uni and go back home. The nice feeling of relieve filling up your tired body knowing that you can jump right back into bed again soon. That’s when you hear a voice two rows in front of you and absentmindedly your eyes follow the sound, sighting bored.

“What is this?”

“Oh, I lost my wallet. Haven’t bought a new one yet so this one has to do for now.”

“I see. Hope you didn’t lose a lot of money?”

“Believe me, I lost a lot. Photos, money, credit cards and the cards from the coffee shops! They were already full!”

Your eyes widen at his words. From your seat, you can only see the back of their heads but you are sure that you have heard those words before. The rest of the conversation isn’t interesting anymore nor tells you more about the person in front of you but you follow it anyways in hopes for more informations.

Finally uni was over and you quickly excuse yourself to your friends that you have something really important to do, almost running after the boy from earlier because he already left the room after you were done packing up your stuff and separating yourself from your group of friends.

While you follow the boy, you try to find the right words. How should you talk to him? How should you explain yourself without sounding like a complete idiot. The fact that you aren’t the best in starting conversations with strangers makes you fear the confrontation even more.

You reach the main gate and stop in your tracks when you recognize the person who was waiting for the boy you follow, your heartbeat increasing. It was Wonwoo. The boy from the game. You are 100% sure. He wears a long black coat but around his neck is that familiar white scarf you’ve seen before. As the boy reaches him, he pats him on his shoulder and hands over a white paper bag when he looks over his shoulder, locking eyes with you.

His brow twitches and all you can do is to stare at him in sheer confusion. The boy from your uni turns around and your mouth opens a little. It was Seungkwan. But when he sees you, he turns back to Wonwoo again. Oh yeah, he never saw you in the game.. but Wonwoo did. And his expression shows you that there is something unspoken between the two of you.

The tiredness in your body is long forgotten.

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voltagesmutter · 4 years

Text

KBTBB x OC Prologue

Hello all! My first go at writing on here, no smut yet but just wanted to build a base background slightly different to the actual story! Ending with your choice of character, so please let me know if theres a preference! Enjoy and I’m super excited to build this, especially with a more strong held character, also much smut to come for all!

OC does smoke lightly in this, but its to gain slight connection whilst writing Mamoura’s part!

Abit of difference and twist to the storyline, still being brought by the bidders but quitting you of your maid job, you are now confined server in the penthouse where you also reside. The MC is unlike the story as she’s feisty and not as submissive as the traits of the story, she has a fight in her along with other skills.

‘So, you’re telling us, you get to live here, FOR FREE, with 5 beautifully stunning men and there’s no catch?” Your best friend Rachel asks you, still shocked at the news you just told her. Pressing yourself you move from the lavished cream couch and head over to the immaculately clean open-spaced kitchen.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no catch,” You reply, you certainty wasn’t going to them you was brought in black market auction and these men now (as they repeatedly liked you to remind you) owned you.

The reality was you was a maid at the hotel, about 2 years into the job, you joined at the ripe age of 20. It was never meant to be a long-term thing but the pay cheque was nearly triple the other monthly wages in the city and you were desperate for the money. Taking all the overtime you were able to became a bad habit over yours, working your fingers in the hotel. But the cruelness of the other staff at times had tempted you more than once to leave your job, especially Erika and Rina and Kana (or as you often referred to them Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb). The constant remarks and degrading attitude they had towards you brought you tears at times though a cruel word towards them never left your mouth. You were better than that. Not to mention the often statements and remarks you received from hotel guests, most days you were cat called by men staying at the hotel and many offered payment to spend a night with you. You had always declined.

The attention you received you was mainly due to these pesky uniforms Mr Ichinomiya had stated mandatory for the staff. A tight white button up shirt clung to your chest which tucked into a skin-tight black skirt which settled mid-way down your thighs but had a strong tendency to rise when you walked and bending over in this was mere impossible. You wouldn’t say you wasn’t attractive, but you also wouldn’t say you was beautiful either. You were quite pale, with naturally thick straight blonde hair that cascaded half way down your back with light blue eyes to match. You blame your paleness of the fact you were British, moving from the country to Tokyo at the age of 18.

So how did you end up in this position of living in one of the city’s most expensive penthouses with five handsome men to keep you company? It started like a normal work day, running out of your apartment throwing your hair into a sleek high ponytail trying not to be late. That was getting harder since the new uniform came into place, tugging at your skirt trying to keep it down. You reached the end of the corridor to the staff elevator and spammed the button, waiting for the doors to open. Come on, come on you cried in your head watching the numbers slowly reach your floor. If you was late again Erika would have your head! When the doors finally reached and opened you ran into the lift and waited for it to take you to the lobby. You arrived with a minute to spare before your shift and let out a sigh of relief. Your shift manager, Mr Ren, was at the front desk waiting you.

“I’m not late” You say to him before he can even make a noise. He shook his head and chuckled.

“No, you are on time, but there’s some new changes I need to go over with you, since it’s a big weekend and you know you’re working on introducing guests and presenting them to their rooms, Mr Ichionmiya has requested another uniform change,” He said before reaching behind the desk. Shit, you forgot this was the big poker weekend for the casino in the hotel and that you was introducing guests. Your eyes light up when you saw what Ren had pulled from the desk, a beautifully stunning pair of black stilettos, you dare think how much they had cost most likely more than your weekly salary.

“Size 5?” Ren said seeing the twinkle in your eyes. You nodded and sighed kicking of your normal pumps and slipping your feet into them one at a time. You tried not to curse at the pinching sensation in your feet. Today was going to be long you thought to yourself.

“So, what’s the plan?” You asked Ren, trying to find a balance in your new added height. Pulling out several ID cards and sliding them to you, he replied “Mr. Oh, Mr. Baba, Mr Kisaki and Mr. Kishi, will all be arriving in the next hour. You need to greet them and bring them to Mr Ichinomiya penthouse suite where they will be residing, use this key in the elevator to take them to them their”. He slides along a gold-plated key card. You nod and take all that has been passed to you.

“Oh, and these are here by Mr Ichinomiya special request, whatever they do, act or say to you, just remember these are the CEO’s friends. I heard rumours one is a high superior of a gang, just smile, be nice and don’t get fired,” Mr Rem added giving you a slight pat on the arm before turning away to maintain the rest of the hotel staff.

Taking a deep breath, you walked into the middle of the lobby and put on your best *fake* friendly smile and waited for you guests to arrive. It must be have been 10 minutes before the first two arrived together and from their appearance you guessed it Mr. Oh and Mr. Baba. You felt your eyes watching them checking to the front desk before being pointed in your direction. You gave a friendly smile and walked towards the men, the one had an unimpressed stern look whilst the other had a friendly smile.

“Mr. Oh and Mr. Baba, welcome I’m (YN) and I’ll be escorting you to Mr Ichinomiya suite,” You say sweetly holding our hand to be shaken. Mr. Oh tuts and ignores whilst the other bows, taking off his fedora hat and presses your hand to his mouth. You blush at the boldness of this stranger and try to brush it off.

“The pleasure is all mine princess,” Baba says before gently releasing your hand resulting in an eyeroll from his friend. You felt slightly flustered at the gestor and regain yourself.

“Um, is it just the two of you?” You ask before you see a young man, running and panting through the lobby.

“I just saw the cutest dog,” He said through pants before leaning on Mr. Oh who to say the least did not look impressed and tutted loudly pushing the younger man off him. The young man who entered was Ota Kisaki and you was trying extremely hard to have a fan-girl moment, he was a star in the arts world producing paintings that would sell for more than you could count. He finally caught his breathe and looked at your eyes wide open.

“Dear god, I didn’t get to pet the dog outside but the gods have gifted me with this,” He said quickly taking your hand. You were slightly star struck, mainly creeped out by the young man and his comments. You wanted to jerk your hand back and give him a good scolding but Ren’s words stayed in your head ‘just remember these are the CEO’s friends’. Giving a smile through gritted teeth you reply, “Mr Kisaki, pleasure to meet you, I’m (YN). I’ll be escorting you to the suite,”. He finally let’s go of your hand and you pass the ID badges you were given to all of the men in front of you.

“These are your ID’s, they grant you access to the casino event and must be worn at all times during the event,” You say. You realise you still have one pass left for Mr. Kishi.

“Is Mr. Kishi with you gentlemen?” You ask, realising all three men have been looking you up and down whilst explaining to them. Typical men.

“God damit, you didn’t say he was coming,” Oh said through gritted teeth turning to Baba, his eyes going a dark shade. Baba chuckled slightly behind patting his friend on the back, “It’s okay old friend, I’m sure you can get on for this time, is he coming but not with us so if we could go up,” he said turning his attention to you.

“Of course, gentleman if you will follow me,” You said before turning your back to them and strutting towards the elevator. You didn’t hear them following so you stopped and turned your head over your shoulder. All three of them had been watching your ass sway, mesmerised and in a state like trance.

“Boys?” You said watching them snap out of it and chase behind you.

“She talks to me like that again, I put a bullet through her,’ You heard Mr. Oh whisper to one of them, making your heart almost stop.

“I’ll put something in her, repeatedly,” You heard Mr.Kisaki reply earning a chuckle from Mr.Baba. Pigs you thought to yourself, but you bite your tongue and dared say anything in retaliation. One for the fear of one shooting you and two your job, you was being paid nearly double time for this weekend.

‘Don’t be so crude to my beautiful princess!” Mr.Baba chimed in. Reaching the elevator, you inserted the gold key card into a slot and watched the three other men clamber in. It was a tight squeeze, 3 grown men, a woman, three full suitcases and an extra-large duffle bag which Mr.Oh kept extremely close to him. Scuffling around you ended up with your back being pressed into one of the chest of the men, your plump little behind pressing against their front. You felt a slight heat rising inside you, you hoped it was just the embracement of the situation.

“Hey no fair! Mr, I hate women is getting her all to himself,” You heard Kiaski whine and pouting.

“Shut up Kid,” Was stated, through gritted teeth behind you.

You flushed as the comment made you realise you was pressed up against Mr.Oh.

‘So, my pretty, where has Mr Ichinomiya been hiding you,” Mr. Baba said taking your chin in his hand and forcing you to look up at him. Your lips slightly parted and a blushing tint was rising on your cheeks.

“I…I’m just a maid,” You reply to him, his eyes glistening and burning into yours. Your gaze is broken by an abrupt stop and fall forward onto his chest. The lift had jolted to a stop before carrying on up the 52 floor of the hotel.

“Mother fucker,” You curse due to losing your balance from these heels before you gasp, realising you was pressed against Mr.Baba chest and your strong choice of words. Pushing yourself off him, you heard a chuckle from all three men.

“I’m so so sorry, the shoes are new,” You mutter, your face quickly rising in colour. I knew this would be a long day.

“No worried princess, feel free to fall for me anytime,” Mr. Baba replied giving you a cheeky wink. You heard a few murmurs of protest from Mr.Kisaki, you was positive you heard the word pet escape from his mouth. The rest of the journey up is silent and as the elevator finally reaches it stop, it shunts forward again but rather sending you forward again into the welcome arms of Mr.Baba, a strong arm wraps around your waist keeping you in place. Surprised at the arm around you, you fall back ever so slightly pressing your behind strongly against the front of Mr.Oh and a quiet but deep growl escapes from his throat. Highly embarrassed by the situation you aim to get out of the elevator as fast as you can. Whispering a quiet thank you to Mr.Oh you race out of the elevator and wait for the men to follow. Walking forward a few steps you feel the gaze of the men burning into your backside once a again.

Reaching the marble coated double doors, you knock and wait for a response.

“Tsk,’ Mr. Oh says before opening the doors and allowing himself to enter, followed by the two other men. Unsure what to do, whether to leave them men or follow suit, you feel a wrist wrap around yours and tug you into the suite. It was beyond beautiful inside, coated in marble and gold with the most luxurious furnishing inside. It almost took your breath away. It was Mr. Kisaki who had pulled you in and let go before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Eiiiiiisuke!” He yelled, his voice echoing through the suite, “We want to thank you for the gift,” he added. You wanted to protest, you wanted to leave but you couldn’t. You was normally a ruthless person, taking no shit from anyone but the fear insulting one of your CEO’s friends, in his suite, with him somewhere inside was more powerful.

“Well, well, well,” A voice said. You looked around and saw a deviously handsome man strutting down the marble staircase which lead down to the open plan kitchen. It was him, Eisuke Ichinomiya, the king. You almost stopped breathing, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. His long legs strutting down the stairs before making way over to you, ignoring his guests. As Mr.Baba had done earlier, he took your chin in his hands and pulled your face up to meet his gaze.

“And who are you?” He said, his mouth forming a cheshire smile. You was lost for words gazing at your CEO.

“Don’t make me ask twice girl,” He said in a harsh tone and gripped your chin tighter.

‘I… (YN), I work here, I have the honour of greeting your guests sir,” You say. You wasn’t sure what you said but his face smirked and you felt the other men’s gaze burning at Mr Ichinomiya.

“Honour of greeting my guests? If you consider that an honour, what would you call being bedded by me?” He says smugly. What an asshole. What a unbearable smug git he was.

“Hands off shes mine!” Mr. Kisaki whines pulling me away from Mr Ichinomiya’s grip.

“No way, this is my princess, I saw her first,” Mr Baba joins in, tugging me into arms. Dear god what is happening, am I dreaming?

“Hands off the goods,” You hear Mr Oh say and feel the grip around you loosen. You met Mr.Ohs gaze and see his pointing a gun at Mr Baba. Seriously, what the fuck is going on, like there is a gun. Being pointed. At another man’s head. And he’s joking around all calm. WHAT IS HAPPENING you cry in your head.

“Well it seems Miss (YN) that you’ve had an extremely positive effect on my men here, if you affect them anymore I think I’ll have lock you away for only my eyes,” Mr Ichinomiya says holding his hand to Mr.Oh a signal to lower the gun which he does. He takes a step towards you, but you step back as he does. Forgetting about these sodding heels, you lose your balance slightly and feel your back collapse against the wall behind you. Taking advantage of the situation, Mr Ichinomiya presses a hand next to your face and learns forward pressing into you, you could feel his breath heavy on yours. The scent of him was intoxicating and made you feel slightly dizzy.

“So tell me why I should let you go,’ He whispers into your ear. He was the most glorious sexy bastard you had had ever laid eyes on. Your face was burning hot and you were speechless. Unable for words, you tried to mutter something, anything but nothing came on.

“Eisuke, don’t torture the poor girl, she still needs to collect that sloth you decided to bring for no reason,” Mr.Oh said but was meant with a daggering flare from Mr Ichinomiya. Seizing the opportunity of his attention being diverted from you, you duck under Mr Ichinomiya arm and scutter to the door.

“I’ll be with back Mr. Kishi when he arrives,” You say quickly and dart to the elevator as fact as the heels will let you. You heard several remarks about your behind coming from the men you had just left. Escaping into the elevator, your mind raising about what had just happened and trying to piece together the events. Reaching the lobby floor you scan the room in case Mr.Kishi had appeared but he had not. Your cheeks were flushed and you felt the heat from within you rising.

Seeing as your guest had not arrived yet, you head outside the hotel to try cool down and think about what really happened. The cool air hits you, leaving slight goose bumps on your skin and you inhale, breathing in the fresh air. Whilst outside a man in a long detective style coat had just sparked up a new cigarette and you couldn’t take your eyes off it. You use to smoke, not as a regular but you found it happened when you felt stressed or in uncomfortable situations.

“It’s rude to stare kid,” You hear from the man who turns around and walks towards you. He had a roughed attire to him, his cigarette handing from his mouth.

“I… I’m sorry!” You said, take back slightly from words, he wasn’t even facing you when you was staring. He stretched out his pack of cigarettes towards you, guesting.

“I… I shouldn’t,” You say looking at his out stretched arm.

“Sweetheart, I can tell you need this,” He says and slowly takes one and puts it into your mouth. You inhaled as he hit lit the end.

“Fuck,” You say slightly louder than hoped and the man chuckles. His eyes followed your hand and mouth inhaling and exhaling, moving the cigarette expertly in your hand. His eyes lit up as he watched your lips perfectly hold the cigarette between them and ever so softly suck the bottom of your lip when you exhaled.

“Thank you, honestly I can’t begin to explain how much this is needed,” You say to your detective styled hero. His hair was slightly messy with a goatee stubble perfectly trimmed, he had a sleepy look in eyes.

“Rough day sweetheart? I find nothing beats that than a nap,” He said, the words nap seemed to make his eyes sparkle slightly.

“Aha, I wish, I’m waiting for a guest to arrive for Mr Ichinomiya but after from up there, I don’t really want to go back up,” You say with a slight defeat in your voice. Before your mysterious stranger can say more, you stub out your cigarette, you’d be in such trouble if you had been caught.

“Thank you again, true hero detective man,” You say with a slight chuckle and run back inside the hotel. Walking over to reception, you ask if your last guest had appeared but nothing so far. At least it meant you had longer without being in that room of men.

Your eyes flickered as you saw your humble stranger from outside enter into building and head to reception, maybe you would be seeing more of him you thought. Deciding to look at your final ID card, your face went pale slightly and you wanted to curse. Of couse the handsome stranger was Mr.Kishi. Fucking brilliant. You saw him chuckling as he headed over to you.

“Mr. Kishi, welcome, please forour brief encounter outside, I had no idea you was a guest of Mr Ichinomiya,” You said, your eyes slightly pleading to him. You felt so embarrassed by the situation from outside, you hoped to god he wouldn’t tell Mr Ichinomiya.

“It’s okay darlin, I wont say anything if you don’t,” He said his eyes gazing into yours and gently strokes your face. Another one, dear god why. Handing him his ID card you guested towards the elevator. He keeps his distance slightly behind and as you enter the elevator you catch him in the reflection checking you out. This uniform was the worst thing to ever happen in this hotel. Slotting the key card in, you feel the lift begin its ascent to the suite, you felt dread slightly come over you.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I wont let them touch you,” Mr Kishsi says stepping forwards slightly towards you. You gave up at this point and smiled back. He didn’t seem like the pervy kind like the others, maybe he was nice. Learning from your previous mistakes, you hold tightly to the rail to keep your balance. You see the man opposite you leaning against the wall, his eyes shut, is he asleep? No, he can’t be possibly. As the lift comes to a stop, his eye don’t open but falls forward like I had in the previous time up. Not realising the flailing man in front of me I pulled my skirt down as much as I could before entering that wolf-stricken suite. He fell forward and his eyes flung open, his arms out forward to brace the fall. He fell onto me causing me to lose balance and tumbling to the floor with him ontop of me. You gasped with the man ontop of you and the doors to the elevator open for you to see on the other side three of the men who you previously left, smirks on their faces. Your face burned red, the man ontop of you floundered and got off you as fast as he could.

“If you seduce any more of my men, I’m going to lock you away where no-one can set eyes on you again,” Mr Ichinomiya says with a smug smirk on his face. The other men behind in chime in with comments and unfair whines of how close Mr Kishi was. I watched their gazes skimming over me, most of their gazes stopped as they saw the skirt had hitched higher and was barely coming yourself. You pulled it down as quickly as you could and saw a hand stretched out to you. You took with it without hesitation and was pulled to your feet by the man who had knocked you down. You mouthed thank you to him and slowly felt the heat rising down from your face. You stepped out the elevator brushing yourself off and avoiding the gaze of the men surrounding you.

“Mr Ichinomiya all your guests are here, I’ll leave them in your care,” You say turning to Mr Ichinomiya. His smirk turns to a serious face.

“Did I say you could leave?” He says. You look a little stunned.

“No but… I thought…” You said slightly confused.

“What happened to that obedient girl from before, has too much time with other men distracted you?” He questions, crossing his arms.

“Mamo, you brooooke her,” Whined Mr Kisaki with a wide pout.

“Shut up,” Mr Baba says through gritted teeth elbowing the young man in the ribs. You wasn’t sure what to say.

“Go easy on the kid,” Kishi said placing another cigarette between his lips. Mr Ichinomiya is the only one not to react, his expression unchanged. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close.

“I told you once. I will not tell you again little girl, do not make me ask twice,” Mr Ichinomiya said still clutching your arm. You look slightly confused still, just wanting to escape.

“No Sir, I was only told to present the guests, I thought my dutys stopped there,” You whisper back. You were slightly terrified of what might come out of his mouth next, you felt the gaze of all men on you. Mr Ichinomiya let go and pushed you slightly in front of him and the other men, so that you was facing the doors to the suite.

“Walk. Slow,” He muttered to you. Taking a deep breath you headed slowly towards the doors. You knew why, you felt all four of the men present staring at your ass once again. You felt slightly humiliated at what was happening but you was a big girl, you knew what men was like. You knew Mr Ichinomiya was known for his womanizing ways. You almost reached the doors when they burst open and Mr.Oh came flying out, the doors swinging wide open. Your eyes widened seeing the inside of the suite, masses of guns were lying about, with more poking out of the duffel bag he had brought out. So the rumour was true, he had some relation to a gang. He again had a gun in hand and it was pointing at you, his face stern.

“Eisuke, what are you playing at, you know what’s happening in here,” He hissed, keeping his posture. You didn’t know what to do, the men behind you had walked to your side whilst the man in front of you kept his gun pointed at you.

“Don’t hurt my princess,” Baba said, wrapping his arms around you, almost trying to shield you.

“Go. You forget what you saw here, you speak of this to no-one or we’ll come after you,” Mr Ichinomiya said stepping in front of you. Without hesitation, you free yourself from the grip of Mr Baba and scurry into the elevator trying to erase your memory of the last 10 minutes. You heard the whining at your lack of present and stating Mr Ichinomiya was a pure kill joy. Your breathing was frantic and you felt your heart in your stomach of the events. As you watched the numbers slowly descent, you realised the lift never stopped at the lobby, instead it went down future. You sighed and repeatedly pressed the lobby button but it kept going down. Dear god what now, you sighed and slumped against the elevator wall. Once it came to stop you didn’t see anyone outside the lift so you stepped out but as you did you bumped into a figure you never saw and heard a horrifying smash. You gasped and saw two figures who had been holding something that looked like a statue was smashed into pieces on the floor. Fuck sake.

“Ohmygod Im so so sorry,” You cry unsure what to do. The figures grabbed your arms tight and pulled you down the corridor.

“You idiot that was an irreplaceable statue!” One screamed. You tried to free yourself but it was no hope you were too weak against the men.

“I guess we’ll have to take her instead,” The other replied. You thrashed against them but to no use. You were shoved into a dark room and flinger into a small cage. They left you in the darkness and tears started streaming down your face. What was this day, what was happening?

You had no idea how much time passed before you felt like the cage you was in was moving and before your eyes you was left on a stage, thousands of masked people in the audience gazing at you. You wanted to scream for help but that was when you heard it.

“Sold for 20 million to you sir at the back”. You chocked. You was being sold like cattle at market, you’d just been sold in a black market auction.

The cage you was in was covered up and you felt it moving again, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling but you refused to let who was moving you hear you cry. Exhausted from your tears and slumped against the bars of your cage waiting for this nightmare to be over. You wasn’t sure you travelled far, but then again you had no idea where you was, until you heard a recognisable voice. No scrap that, five recognisable voices. Are. You. Serious.

The cover was removed and there you saw them. The five men you had encountered that morning standing on the outside of your cage.

“I told you, I’d lock you away for only me,” Mr Ichinomiya said smirking. This was his doing? “She’s not just yours, she’s all of ours!” Pouted Kisaki making puppy eyes.

“None of you touch my princess, please let us get her out of that cage,” Baba says looking innocently at you.

“She looks like a pet!” Chimed in again from Kisaki. This was the most degrading experience of your life. You finally mustered up the courage to say something. “W…whats happening?” You say with more tears in your eyes looking hopelessly at the men around you.

“We brought you, we own you, us,” Mr Ichinomiya said, he emphasised own more than anything else.

“The five you…?” You whispered back, seeing each of their hungry eyes on you, eyeing you up like a piece of meat.

“You belond to us, all five of us, we brought you for a share each and now you have to obey what we say,” Babe says with a devious smile. Your eyes meet the rugged detective styled man from earlier, once again a cigarette handing from his lips, his eyes focused on you. Your head ached and you felt cramped inside the cage you had been thrown into earlier.

“Can… can I please get out this,” You asked, your voice just above a whisper. You hear a small chuckle from some of the men, you don’t know who but you hope they heard your plea. You see Mr Ichinomiya learn forward and unlock the cage allowing you to be free. You don’t hesitate to spring from the cage, your legs slightly week and once free you fall a little unable to keep your balance only to be caught by several pairs of strong arms, each man had lunged to keep you from falling. Guiding you to one of the cream sofas you sat down, whilst the men placed themselves around you, Kishi sitting on one side of you.

“So… so you brought me? Why? I’m confused what’s happening,” You ask.

“Who could let such a thing of beauty go?” Kishi finally speaks, taking your face in your hand. You flustered at the movement.

“You need to decide a place to stay, one of us as your master,” Mr Ichinomiya said from a separate armchair, crossing his legs. You started to laugh. But none else did.

“Wait, your serious…” You said, looking at all the men’s stern faces. Babe fell to the floor and crawled to you, placing his hands on your exposed knees.

“I’ll treat you like a princess, the princess you truly are,” He said burrowing his hazel eyes into yours and slowly moving his hands up your thighs. You feel your face turn in one powerful swift to face Kishi who was inches away from you, he smelt strongly of whisky and cigarettes.

“I’m a detective, I’ll keep you safe,” He whispers against your lips. Before you can register what’s happening your swept of your feet and held into an embrace by Kisaki.

“Be my precious pet,” Kisaki said brushing your hair out of your face. You were once again whipped away by another strong pair of arms and held strongly against Mr.Oh’s chest.

“Women are a waste of time, but for you I’ll make the acceptation” He spoke softly into your hair. Before finally, you pulled down onto the lap of the king , Mr Ichinomiya. Your back pressed firmly against his chest and he leaned against you snaking his hands over your waist.

“Stay with the king and be treated like a queen,” He whispered into your neck. You felt dizzy, the staring of each men burning into you whilst the hot breath of Mr Ichinomiya tickled against your neck.

“I… I have an apartment here, can’t I just st-“ You started but was cut off with a no from almost everyman.

“What if we propose a new deal then,” Baba said walking over and stroking your face. A rival growl from Mr Ichinomiya was stated from behind you. Almost like a look, don’t touch.

“I’ll stay here,” You pipe up before any other men can stay anything. A chuckle comes from behind once again and he places a kiss against the back of your neck causing a slight shiver to run down your back.

“Boss wins again,” Sighs a defeated Kishi .

“God damit” Oh mutters. You feel daggers staring at Mr Ichinomiya who’s still chuffed with the result.

“I said here, not him,” You state and try to stand up but the hands around tighten.

“Don’t toy with me girl,” Mr Ichinomiya whispers into your ear.

“I… I’m serious, I don’t know you, any of you, if you own me I’ll be here, but I belong to all you not just one,” You say after mustering all you can. You was done, you was tired, no exhausted. Enough of this, enough of all of this.

“I mean, I can share my princess here but if any of you touch her…” Baba starts.

“I swear to god, I will shoot one of you if you break her,” Oh adds, his hand in his blazer. A deep sigh comes from behind you but there’s still a tight grip around your waist with one placed now placed on your thigh.

“I’ll be here all the time, just more time to myself,” He says squeezing your thigh.

“I…um, I need to get back to work,” You say before pushing his hands off you and standing up pulling down your high risen skirt.

“You don’t leave.” A stern voice said. You wasn’t sure who said it but you heard it.

“I… I have a job, I cant just-“ You start but was interrupted.

“We’ll look after you, but as part of this you do not leave, not without one of us,” Kisaki says walking over to you and holding your wrists gently. You look over your shoulder to Mr Ichinomiya.

“S…Sir?” You ask, regardless the others he was the CEO of where you worked. He smirked.

“Look at me like that again and I will have you pinned against a wall faster than you can Sir, but yes. You live here, your life is here, you serve us now and if you leave you will be ended,” Mr Ichinomiya said his eyes glazing with a darkness.

“O…okay,” You finally surrender and the men give me devilish smirks and smiles.

The penthouse was exquisite, beautiful in every way. From the living area was joined with a open kitchen which had a marble staircase leading to a upstairs full of rooms. Each man had his own suite and bathroom, Mr Ichinomiya had his own office and you were finally taken to your room. It was bigger than the whole of your apartment you lived in and beautifully detailed in every way. You also had your own en-suite with a spa bat-tub and wall to floor shower. You gasped when you saw it, a smirk appeared on Mr.Oh’s face. “Impressed by this? We have so much more to show you darlin,” Kishsi said gently wrapping his arms around you much to the protest of the fellow bidders.

A few hours had passed and you spent them in your room still confused of the events that had happened today. You was owned by these five men, no choice, no escape, no home to go back too… You ended up passing out from exhaustion on the silk bed in your room. When you woke you found the stuff from your apartment had been placed inside and you realised this wasn’t a nightmare or a bad dream, it was all real and happening. Walking into the bathroom you looked at the state of you in the bathroom and sighed, you looked a mess. You skirt was hitched up from your slumber, barely covering your ass, your shirt was messy and untucked, your sleeked ponytail was messy and falling out and you still had the toe pinching heels on. Stripping off, you stepped into the shower washing away the humiliation you faced from today away. You used the lotion already stacked in the shower, making your skill smell of vanilla. Drying yourself off and stepping into your room, you found your lounge wear in the pile of stuff brought to your room. Sliding into your lacey low-cut tank top with your black lace shorts, not your best clothing option by far but it’s all you had I mean you never expected to live with a group of five men. Grabbing the secret stash of cigarettes, you kept hidden in one of your coat pockets and retying your hair back up and slipping on your flower kimono you take a deep breath and exit your room.

You was greeted to a cheerful sound of men and the mixed smell of alcohol and cigarettes greeted your nose. It was a smell you wasn’t use to but it’s a smell you finally get use to and call home. A round of whistles filled your ears when you stepped down the marble case gaining all of the bidder’s attention. This was something you would never get used to.

“Well, look whos finally come to join us,” Mr Ichinomiya said sitting in the same chair as earlier, a whisky in hand and that smug smirk on his face.

“Yes, yes enjoy the show,” You say and twirl before walking into the kitchen, all eyes on you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mr Ichinomiya says to you rising an eyebrow. Looking confused.

“Getting a drink…?” You respond.

“Did we give you permission?” He responds. You scoff and grab one of glass flutes before picking up the bottle of champagne and pouring a glass.

“You can’t be serious,” You say shaking your head but the next minute your slammed up against the fridge Ichinomiya pressed inches away from your face. His hot breath pulsing against your next and your hands pinned to the side of your face.

“Do not test me, you obey me, you answer to me with sir and if you don’t do what I say within 5 seconds, I will bend you over the nearest thing and fuck you there and then,” He says whilst pressing his lips against your neck. You cant help but let out a sweet moan at the sensation and without realising you respond, “Yes sir, sorry sir,”. You feel the smirk of his mouth pressing against your neck before he pulls away. Your face is slightly flustered and you feel the drink you previously poured pushed back into your hand.

“Good girl,” He mumbles, watching you walk away. The men had moved to a poker table sitting around and you sat in the free chair next to Baba, which you didn’t know was the best option.

“So princess how are you.” He says and places his hand on thigh and squeezes it gently. You give a simple smile and look around the table feeling the gaze of the bidder either on your face or your chest. You sipped away at your drink whilst watching the men engage in their game of poker. Every time you found your glass empty, one of the bidders had filled your up glass up almost instantly.

“So sweetheart you playin?” Kishi asked before popping a cigarette into his mouth whilst shuffling some cards. You licked your lips slightly watching him fondle the cigarette in his mouth before you took yours out to the gasps of the other men.

“If you like the look of his mouth, wait til you see what mine can do,’ Kisaki whispers into your ear, Baba’s hand still squeezing your thigh. It was like a competition of them for your attention…

“Yeah, fuck it,” You replied, before placing the cigarette between your teeth and raising your eyebrows to Kishsi gesturing to his lighter. Instead he shifted from his chair and shoved Kiaski out of the way taking his place. He leaned in close to you placing the end of his lit cigarette to yours and mumbles for you to inhale which you comply. Your eyes lit up watching the end spark up. You rolled it between your lips and lean back in your chair and cross your legs with your drink in the other. You hear muttered curses and comments from the others.

“God, I wanna see what else you can do with them lips,” Oh says watching your every movement.

“Let me put something better between those lips,” Ichinomiya says with a smirk. You wasn’t sure if it was the attention you was receiving, the drinks you’d had or a mix of both because you started to feel more confident.

“So we playing boys or what,” You say leaning forward, before seductively sucking the end of your cigarette and slightly licking your lip. You heard a low grown from the bidders, unable to place the groans to each man. This could get interesting you think to yourself, inhaling, exhaling, your chest rising to each movement. You knew the men were watching anticipating your next move, but there was none. You leaned forward for Kishi’s ashtray and stubbed out your cigarette.

The cards were dealt and a round was played, losing within the first few minutes of the game.

“Shall we make it more interesting?” Ichinomiya says smirking behind his cards. All eyes were on him, except for mine, I was far more interested in topping up my drink, since we started playing the men stopped catering for your needs.

“For her.” He states shortly and quickly with the other bidders in unison. Realising what was said you almost chocked on your drink. You wasn’t dumb or naïve and you knew what that meant and by god was you going to let one of these men win you like a prize. Looking for an escape on this, you watched as Baba loosened his tie and it hit you.

“Or…” You start and finishing your drink for courage, all eyes back to you.

“Strip poker, winner gets a kiss…” You breath out after a deep exhale. You hear Kisaki clap and rub his hands together, sitting opposite you in Kishi’s original chair. Oh winks at you before diverting your gaze and you feel Baba had snaked a hand around your waist giving you a tight squeeze. Kishi gently took your wrist before placing a small kiss to your palm sending a heat of excitement through you. Ichinomiya gets up and walks to you and pulls you back by your ponytail gently, he leans down and places a kiss against you neck, sending you slightly breathless.

“You better get that pretty mouth of yours ready to kiss me all over,” He whispers into your ear before releasing your hair and returning to your seat. Slightly intoxicated with the situation at hand you regain yourself and smile.

“Game on boys” You say.

Surprise, surprise you lost the first round so you lost the kimono, leaving you in your tank top and shorts.

You didn’t lose the next few but you watched, Oh Baba and Kishi all lose an article of clothing, mainly ties and fedoras. But then you lost again and you had to decide on what went. Sighing and mustering your courage, you slowly removed your tank top thankful you kept your white lace bra on but it left little to the imagination, your slight erect nipples poking through the material. Kisaki and Oh’s jaws dropped, Baba placed his hand back onto your waist before slowly tracing it up your side, Kishi who had nearly fell asleep was now wide awake and his eyes burning through your chest. A recognisable growl came from the king, the same kind you heard earlier when you was sat on his lap. This was the first moment you realised the full effect you were having on these men but also the effect they was having on you.

“Okay boys, pack it in,” You saw with a new confidence and throwing you shirt at the table. You play two more round, winning both and watching Ichinomiya lose his jacket and Kisaki his shirt, he was hiding a beautifully tone chest under there.

It was the last round, a make or break for you. You lost the first half much to your disagreement but you sucked it and teased the men watching you. Standing up, your first traced your hands up your stomach but moved them down to your shorts meet with anticipated breath from the bidders. Slowly you tug your shorts down just a little reviling the hem of your lacy panties. Slowly you push them down, using your other hand to keep up your shorts. Met with gasps and you catch Kishi drop his cigarette his mouth gaping open. Sitting back down, you extend your leg out pulling your panties full off and placing them on the table. You was met with a stunned silence and felt extremely proud of your power move.

The final cards were dealt and you could cut a tension with a knife, the bidder slowly revealed their cards, all but you and Mr Ichinomiya. He smirked and laid out his cards, “I want all them clothes gone for our kiss,” he says smugly. You look at your cards and give him a defeated look before sighing. He knew he had won, until you laid your cards out.

“I call that a royal flush, sir,” Your purr, seeing his eyes widen and that cocky grin wiped off his face. You raise a brow at your defeated opposition and watch him slowly lose his lavender shirt. His chest was chiselled and you felt it hard to keep your cool.

Regardless of his dick attitude, he was a sight to behold. You licked your slightly parted lips at the sight but a comment from Baba brought you back to reality.

“So winner…” He said leaning into you neck. You already knew who you wanted to kiss… right now it was all of them. Each one brought a sexual tension and with your confidence and high of winning you was ready to explore.

“Since you all share me, I want a kiss of each of you, you know please all my masters,” You say with a cocky grin on your face.

No-one complained or whined infact they were rather submissive. Each kiss was different, Oh’s and Kiski were sweet and delicate, Kishi’s tasted like an ashtray (but you enjoyed the taste), Baba however was gentle with a tight grip on your waist and sucking delicately on your bottom lip. And Mr Ichinomiya, he pulled you into his lap and kissed your cheek before moving closer and kissed the corner of your lips, instantly you leaned to him but he pulled back and then you heard it, the words beg fell from his mouth and formed a declivous smile. You couldn’t believe this prick.

“Kiss me,” You muttered against his lips. He pulled back again.

“Kiss me who?” He said cocking an eyebow.

“Kiss me, sir,” you said and his lips came crashing onto yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth, showing his dominance. He pulled back leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips. Feeling heavily intoxicated with passion and lust, you bid the bidders fair well before retrieving your top and kimono and bounding upstairs.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” One of them yells up, your panties still in the middle of the table.

“Keep them,” You respond, hearing an argument breaking out between them. You reached your room, shut the door and sighed, what had you got yourself into?

“So what is the catch?” Your other friend Gemma asked, perking up from the sofa still marvelling at the fact she was in the penthouse of the Hotel Tres Spades. Grabbing a fresh bottle of champagne from the grey-metallic fridge you place it on the counter and lead forward pressing the palms of your hands flat against it.

Taking a deep sign, you reply, “I mean my freedom in a way, I’m a private maid for the penthouse, I’m not allowed to go freely out of the building without informing anyone of where I’m going, my apartment is gone I can only stay here, I guess I can kiss a love life goodbye, not that there really one,”.

“I mean the last time you last got laid was when you were 17 wasn’t it,” Rachel said, both her and Gemma giggling.

“Shut up!” You yelled, lobbing a bag of peanuts at her head and trying not to go the colour of the perfectly red apple sitting on the counter. She was right though, it had been five years since you last had any sexual connection with a man. Not that you hadn’t had the opportunity, but the first and last time you had sex, you were lied too, tricked into thinking you and he was in love but really all he wanted was your body. You never told or spoke to anyone about it because you felt embarrassed, ashamed of your naivety but you were young, you thought you was in love.

Pouring yourself and the two others a drink, you waltzed back across the room.

“To Miss (YN) new lavish lifestyle!” Gemma said raising her glass and waiting for us to join in.

“To no catches!” Rachel chimed in causing a giggle from all three of you.

“So come on, what’s the real gossip, what are these men like?” Rachel ask you, wiggling her eyebrows. You took a sip of your champagne and though about your response. You knew no-one was in the penthouse, or you hoped at-least, you was still getting use to everyone’s schedules even though they never really stuck to them. You gave your friends a brief description to your friends of them ensuring to leave out details from the poker night, that only happened 2 nights ago.

“They all sound devious but come on, if you had, which one would you screw?” Gemma asked and you had to think.

The smug and demanding yet charming boss – Eisuke Ichinomiya

The mafia leader – Soryu Oh

The flirtatious thief – Mitsunari Baba

The young artist – Ota Kisaki

The ruggedly handsome detective – Mamoru Kishi

53 notes · View notes

foolgobi65 · 4 years

Text

yeh rishtaa kya kehlataa hain

@allegoriesinmediasres asked for: Rama/Sita, travel!AU, friends to lovers, “you confuse me”

as usual, this is completely unedited and thus is probably chock full of grammar errors, bad characterization, and terrible pacing. but! it was fun to write on my end so as always if u want me to rewrite it I’d be glad to lmaoo. it’s super super super cheesy at the end...like the whole third bit is just super cliche but w/e i love cliche romance its all good lol. anyways, i hope you like it at least a little!! thank you so much for the prompt <3 <3 <3

if you’d like to send me an au prompt from this list, please do!!

(title is from a lovely ar rahman song from the movie meenaxi, and also apparently a hindi soap, meaning “what is this relationship called?” )

---

It’s been two weeks since the Raghuvanshi Group put out a notice that nearly brought the Indian manufacturing industry to its knees: Ramachandra, eldest son of Dasaratha Raghuvanshi and anointed heir since his very first breath, has been stripped of his VP positions within the company, his stock options, even his entrance card. The gossip blogs report that Ramachandra has lost access to the family accounts and family property, have posted pictures of the young man once posed to be the next titan of Indian Industry at a local branch of the Bank of India, handing over what is rumoured to be his great-grandfather’s watch as a starting sum so that he can get his own personal account.

Bharata, three years Rama’s junior, is still in the United States working on his MBA: he has not yet been told of his brother’s effective exile from the family, nor of his own subsequent ascension to the position of CEO-in-waiting. Twins Lakshmana and Shatrugana, five years younger, are in London having just begun their undergraduate degrees. It was interesting, people used to say, that of the brothers it was only Rama who stayed in India. Rama who attended every company party and toured factories, solemnly noting down worker complaints on the weekends he could spare from his studies, in all respects the near exact opposite of his father whose four children are the sons of three women.

Four days after the company announced its decision, Ramachandra disappeared from the public eye. It takes ten days, but Janaki eventually tracks down enough public and private conjecture to find him in a housing colony nearly an hour long ride from Ayodhya, the Raghuvanshi family home in the center of the city. The door opens, and Janaki greets the man who can only be Sumantra, Dasaratha’s long-loyal driver who had apparently left the same day as it’s once shining son.

“Hello!” she says, palms folded and motorcycle helmets dangling by their straps from her wrists, “I’m a friend of Ram. Is he at home?”

The door closes almost entirely. “Why would sir be found here,” Janaki hears from the gap, as Sumantra hooks the metal chain that would prevent her from barging in even if she was strong enough to shove aside a man nearly 50 pounds heavier than herself. “He is a very rich man’s son, and I am only a driver.”

Janaki frowns. “No one is ever ‘only’ anything Sumantra-ji, we all do some type of work in order to live, and not one of these jobs is better or worse than another.”

From behind the door, she hears the sharp exhalation that could almost be a snort from someone more given to expressing his own feelings. Janaki was right, then, Ramachandra Raghuvanshi who grew up on one of the most expensive properties in India has sought refuge in a home he could have bought on a moment’s whim only two weeks before. The chain rattles, and the door opens wide.

“Janaki Videha,” Rama says, and suddenly it is four years ago and Janaki is again a student politician stuck in a hospital bed after a bad encounter with the police, flipping through notes meticulously taken by a classmate who insists on anonymity but could only possibly be the lanky, nearly silent boy that everyone knows will one day be one of the richest men in India.

Normally, a person seeing an old acquaintance after a few years would speak their name, then utter some platitude about how long it has been since they last met and invite them inside to catch up. Rama, who is only capable of erudition in front of men his father wants him to impress, conveys the implication that all of these social niceties have been uttered without saying anything but her name. Janaki smiles, takes off her shoes, and walks in.

---

“What are you even doing here?”

Janaki raises an eyebrow, pouring a little more soap into the bucket they were offered to use for clothes washing. It has been a month since Janaki found Rama and told him that she was going on a trip, and that she needed male company to keep her safe. A month since she handed him one of her motorcycle helmets, helped him pack his single spare change of clothes and toothbrush, and directed him to sit behind her and hold on tight so that they might make it to another friend’s village by evening and have a place to spend the night. Together, they have followed the western coastline, trading off who drives when Janaki realizes that not only does Rama have a deft hand at the wheel, but in the proper circumstances can coax thrills out of her old bike that she hadn’t even thought possible.

“What do you mean,” she asks, grabbing his kurta top from the pile of clothes he has slowly gathered from the families he has inadvertently charmed over their travels. He’s standing off to the side, hanging their host family’s saris to dry in order of color, taking the pains to smooth each piece of fabric and making sure none of them touch. In exchange for doing the family’s laundry today, Janaki and Rama are allowed to do their own, an exchange of goods and services that has served them well so far.

“We both know what I mean,” she hears in response. “You’ve just been elected President of the University Student Union, your father is up for election this year, and even if neither of those things were important enough you must have research you should be doing instead of traveling the coastline with the penniless, disgraced son of an industrialist.” His voice is as matter of fact as it always seems to be with him, but Janaki feels an undercurrent of self-hatred at the core of his little speech. Still, she thinks with a faint flush, it’s nice to know that he has kept up with her just as closely as she had him -- though of course it was much easier to find information about Ramachandra Raghuvanshi, always in the papers at exact, two week intervals so as to prevent the creation of scandals to amuse the public with during a news drought.

“I’d call your father a capitalist if I was really embarrassed to be seen with you,” she says back, “and there is more to be ashamed of in becoming rich through exploitation than in being poor through no fault of your own.”

Janaki hands over his kurta, and watches him wring it out one more time with hands stronger than her own. He smiles slightly. “The revolution never stops, does it?”

“No,” she smiles in return. “Not with me, and not, I think, with you either.”

Rama looks away, walking back to the rope to hang up his shirt. “What do you know about me that makes you so confident?” He pursues his lips briefly. “We weren’t even friends, and still you’re here with me.”

Why are you here, Janaki hears go unspoken, why haven’t you abandoned me as well?

When Janaki arrived on campus all starry eyed at 17, she had taken the student body by storm. Blessed with a vibrant personality and the natural pull of a gravity well, she brought people into her orbit effortlessly, rising up the university party ranks within months rather than years of her peers. Academically, she was registered as an economics student, a category the papers said she shared with the Raghuvanshi heir who had created quite the stir when he took his place at an Indian University instead of going abroad. She had been doing quite well, she thought, until the exhaustion after her first collection drive in support of a local workers’ strike fund had caught up to her and she had slept through a full day’s worth of classes. Just when Janaki had been about to call up an acquaintance in their batch she thought might lend her notes, a folder had been slipped underneath her dorm door. Inside, a set of meticulous notes, and a 2 lakh check.

“Isn’t the factory a subsidiary of the Raghuvanshi group?” Janaki’s roommate asked, turning over the check as Janaki flipped through the notes. Thank you for your work, they said at the top. Please let me know if the workers need more.

“Yes,” she had said, “but we can’t tell anyone about this.” For four years she had kept his secret, waiting for his packages whenever she was detained, or ill, or beaten up and could not attend the day’s lectures. More than just a copy of the class outline, Rama’s notes were full of asides, connections, slips of paper clipped with outside citations when he saw something that could be countered, or expanded on. When the party canvassed for funds, her notes would arrive with another check, no demands made in exchange except a humble request to let him know if they ever needed more.

Janaki looks at Rama now, hair growing long to match his new beard. Ramachandra Raghuvanshi had always been clean shaven, hair short and neat and slightly parted to the side in a way every girl instinctively knew must have been how his mother told him would suit. Her eyes soften.

“You used to take notes for me,” she says, “Why?”

His lips turn down just slightly. “It helped me study, to transcribe them again.”

Janaki raises an eyebrow. She remembers that the notes had always focused especially on areas she was known to be weak in, but she lets his half-truth slide. She has a better arrow in her quiver.

“And the money?”

His eyes are trained to the ground. “It wasn’t my money.” Well, certainly the last six weeks have made that much clear. But Janaki did not remember Rama spending exorbitantly in school: his largest expenses seemed to be the checks he sent her.

“We weren’t friends,” Janaki agrees, “But I knew that you were a good man,” Janaki says, “even if you’ve had to hide it from your family your whole life.” She snorts. “And if we weren’t friends then, we certainly are now -- look, I’m washing your underwear right now, and if that isn’t friendship I don’t know what is!”

The joke isn’t really that funny, but suddenly Rama bursts into laughter, loud and deep in a way Janaki doesn’t think she’d ever heard from him in class, on campus, even in the videos posted by the gossip rags online.

“I’ve never had a friend before,” he finally says, and Janaki tries not to show her surprise or the way that makes her hurt on his behalf. “But I would be grateful to be yours.”

Another two months pass, Janaki and Rama journeying up and down and around the west coast. Slowly, Rama starts to gravitate towards the work that he seems suited to do in trade for the day’s food and shelter, and Janaki watches as he seems to blossom in front of her eyes. Every place they drive into, Janaki begins to ask around and invariably there is a person who, more than needing wood split or clothes washed, is in need of a good scribe to write, in English, the details of their grievance against someone with more power than them. Rama listens, and writes, and accompanies men and women to go see a lawyer, or their landlords, and stands behind them speaking in that perfect colonial era British Indian accent he says he picked up at boarding school, making even Janaki squirm when she hears it.

Janaki’s ideology does not allow for her to venerate colonial markers of class, so that squirm must be one of discomfort, rather than, well, --

It has been three months since Janaki and Rama set out on their travels, and time is running out for Janaki who really does have things she has to get back to: a student union to run, a doctorate to work towards, a father’s election campaign to help out with. But everytime Janaki thinks about waking up one morning without seeing him when she turns her head, the pit in her stomach grows larger and more snarled. She doesn’t know how it happened but somehow Rama has gone from acquaintance, to friend, to....to something Janaki can’t even describe beyond simply laying claim to the person at her side. He has become “her” Rama, even though she knows you can’t own a person -- yet Janaki is greedy, and when she watches the small smiles that their trip has coaxed out of his mouth, watches him bargain with their host so that she can eat her favorite vegetable at dinner, watches him finally fall asleep after talking to her for hours into the night and finally look like the youth he is, Janaki knows that she can’t bear to leave.

“Are you angry,” she asks one day, passing him the newspaper cone of roasted peanuts they’ve been trading between themselves while they sit on the sand of an empty beach. There is no need to clarify what he possibly could be angry about.

“No,” he says, taking the cone. “I obey my father’s will.”

From anyone else, Janaki would laugh, but she knows that he speaks the truth as he sees it. The Raghuvanshis raised the perfect scion, a boy right out of those terrible 90s Hindi films who saw their parents as God and venerated at the altar of increased profits. Yet, they chose to throw him like yesterday’s trash -- but no matter, because their loss is Janaki’s gain, and she knows him, knows what makes him happy and sad, and glad and mad.

She knows, for one, that he is angry and that he needs to acknowledge it before she can ask him to come back with her and start over.

“Yes,” she says, “you obeyed quite beautifully. That doesn’t mean you aren’t upset.”

“Don’t -- I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.”

She turns to look at him, jaw already clenched where usually it would take five times as long to get him to this state. He’s furious. Janaki’s heart aches in sympathy, longing to gather him up in her arms and tell him that it’s alright to be upset, that it would even be right to feel so, to kiss away the furrow in his beautiful brow and brush his curls behind his ear. But that would only make him close up, so instead --

“Don’t what?” she asks.

His entire body tightens, like a screw wound one turn too much. “I’m not upset,” he hisses, eyes flashing. “I’m fine!” Janaki brushes her hand over the one of his currently crushing the newspaper cone. As if burned, he lets go.

Sita sighs. “We don’t have to talk about it, but you’re clearly angry and it really isn’t healthy to keep it all in. There’s no one here at the beach, so I think you should just scream it out and try to move on with your life.” She’s not being entirely truthful, since she really does think he should talk about his family’s sudden and entire abandonment after years of encouraging near insane amounts of familial loyalty and emotional repression, but even this journey started out with a single step.

“You think I should... scream,” Rama says, eyebrow raised in perfect, aristocratic, condescension. Janaki nods.

“Just go out into the surf, scream at the top of your lungs for 20 seconds, and then we can leave no questions asked. I promise.”

“You won’t bring this up again,” he asks as if to confirm the terms of a business deal. Perhaps that’s what this is to him, finally back on familiar territory. Janaki shrugs, ignoring how her heart sinks to think of him seeing her care as nothing more than something to trade in order to keep away.

“For now.” At his frown, she shrugs again, allowing herself to smile a little. “If it looks like you’re struggling in the future, I’m definitely going to ask again.”

For a moment, Rama’s eyes widen in ...shock? Surprise? Was he not expecting for them to remain in each other’s lives? Janaki can’t allow herself to think too hard or long on the subject, especially since Rama has, without a word, risen and walked over to the surf.

He glances once over his shoulder, and Janaki waves in encouragement. He begins to scream.

20 seconds pass, and Janaki really does think he will stop and walk back, brushing off any questions and wandering back into the village they’ve decided to stay in this week. But then 30 pass, then a minute, and suddenly Rama is just screaming, knees falling into the waves and hands coming up to clutch and pull at his hair and Janaki is running as fast as she ever has to crash next to him in the wet sand. She shifts sideways, putting her body perpendicular to his so that her back is not to the waves but she can still look at his face -- he’s still screaming, doesn’t seem to have noticed her body next to his, tears streaming down his face. Janaki’s hands flail, but finally she realizes that she can only rely on the instincts that have led her the past few months to find him, to drag him on the back of her bike, to tell him to scream.

Janaki pulls Rama into her chest, her arms around him as she begins to weep along with him. Every time she tries to grasp the scale of the injustice done to him, she finds that her mind is too small. He was raised with every luxury, but with a conditional love that demanded a machine instead of a man. He’s stopped screaming, but has replaced it with gut wrenching sobs, hoarse from when his throat seems to have finally given out -- Janaki wonders when he last wept.

She loves him, she realizes, pressing an absent kiss into his hair. That’s what this feeling must be.

“You what?”

Oh, Janaki thinks, did I say that aloud?

“Ah,” she hears, “yes you did.” Rama raises his head, both of them still kneeling in the surf, tear tracks glistening down the cheeks he had just shaved at the request of an older lady who offered to house them if only he would look respectable. “Do you mean it?”

Janaki swallows, the pit in her stomach as large as it ever has been. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be -- she was supposed to convince him to come back with her, and then later talk about how she wants to kiss him silly.

“You want me to come back with you?” Oh for--

“Yes,” she says, confident that nothing she thinks now will remain within the privacy of her mind. “I want you to come back with me, and study to become a lawyer, and live with me as we try to make the world a better place.”

Rama’s eyes are wide, and Janaki wonders if she’s ever seen him look so fragile. He sputters.

“Fragile? I don’t look frag--”

Janaki laughs, bringing her hand up to cradle his cheek, right thumb brushing gently against his cheekbone. “Alright?”

Rama swallows, blinking his assent as if he suddenly can’t speak. A minute passes where the only sound is of the ocean waves crashing gently in front of them, water periodically flooding them up to their hips.

Rama clears his throat. “Do...” he takes a breath, “do you really think I could?”

“What,” Janaki asks, “become a lawyer?”

He nods. “Everything. I...” he looks away, and Janaki feels the beginning of euphoria. In his eyes there is fear, but not dread -- he wants what she wants, wants it bad. “My entire life I was trained to bring honor to our family name, to do that by making money and keeping my family members happy. I don’t--” Janaki’s thumb moves from his cheekbone to his lips, before he can say something idiotic like ‘I don’t know how to keep you happy.’ Rama laughs, eyes glistening with hopefully something other than tears.

“But I don’t know! Your needs are so different from the people I grew up with!”

Janaki leans forward until her forehead rests against his and their lips nearly touch. “I love you as you are,” she says, “the things I want, you’ve already given me.”

She can feel his brow crinkle, pressed as it is against hers. “I don’t own anything to give you!”

Janaki laughs: only the hideously rich could think so.

“I’m greedy,” she says, eyes closed as wave after wave of happiness floods her exponentially like the way the water of the high tide touches further and further parts of the land. “I want things that you’ve given no one else -- your grief, and joy, and triumph, and failure. I want to wake up with you, and go to sleep with you, and make breakfast with you, and dinner too. I want--”

Rama bridges the gap, and Janaki says no more. He gasps when they break apart, and a vicious part of her wants to ask if he’d kissed any of the high society women he’d been photographed with like that.

“No,” he laughs, and Janaki feels another thrill to see it. “It wouldn’t have been polite.” He leans back, bringing up his own hands to cup her entire head in his palms, lips curved in a wistful smile. “Everyday you confuse me.”

Janaki bites her lip when he doesn’t continue. “Do you like that?”

He shakes his head, and suddenly the pit comes roaring back. “I think I love it,” he says instead, smiling still. “I think I love you, Janaki.”

His smile widens, almost a full grin now. “My Jaan.”

#ramayana #maya writes #obviously this is just wish fulfillment #but he goes back with her becomes a lawyer #leaves behind the company #eventually probably reconciles with his family #definitely with his poor brothers stuck abroad who don't know wtf is happening #but he never goes back to running hte company esp when hes in love with communist sita #who gleefully talks about her 'class traitor' husband #he takes her last name when they marry eventually #oh i keep calling her sita on instinct instead of janaki #which is a change i made entirely based on how much nicer janaki videha rolled off the tongue than sita videha #its just a slight different but w/e #i still think sita is the prettier and better name tho #also...had to be janaki so that the nickname could be jaan #had to sneak that shit in ok its gold #but yeah he becomes a lawyer specializing in land rights cases vs the state #its all very sexy

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flightofaqrow · 4 years

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Favorite Musings Challenge!

As writers, we’re usually our own worst enemy. However, there are times where we just read over something we wrote and acknowledge “Oh…that’s good.” and you may or may not end up restructuring the whole reply to fit that one line just cause it was so good, and you spend hours trying to make it work haha…ha.

Anyways, go through a few of your threads/replies/drabbles/any piece of writing you got. Pick out 5 of your favorite lines that you’ve written for your character(s), and in turn tag 5 (or however many others you want) to do the same!

Repost, don’t reblog. And I’m linking my threads to where these lines came from but you don’t have to do that!

tagged by: @caeloservare ( ty sm ;w; )

tagging: @scatterose @veritasqui @brokenclockwork @esperhuntress @sundragcn @littleblackqrow

I’m doing more because I wanted different facets displayed and I couldn’t choose, and I actually really like a lot of what I put out or I wouldn’t be here, so let me have a moment to promo myself I guess.

he doesn’t deserve to live.

but he never has. not really. a curse to himself and everyone around him.

and yet live he does.

qrow branwen. the huntsman.

since before Ruby and before Yang and before Ozpin and STRQ and despite Raven and anybody else, qrow has always lived and always survived, and always tried to outweigh the good he does in the world with that life from the bad, even if he makes a mess of it at times. he will fight to the bitter end to protect people, because that’s his job, and that’s who he is.

he gets up when knocked down. he builds things knowing they may fall. he takes flight when things feel too heavy. he reaches out for hope when sky is full of flames and clouds. he makes himself more capable when the odds stack against him. he insists on remaining motivated by compassion when the world is cruel.

Yang has been accepted to beacon. Ruby will be joining her in early acceptance.

they’re going to huntresses. they’re going to join the war against Salem, under Oz, and they don’t even realize exactly what they’re signing up for besides some vague notion of, heh… making the world better.

in some ways he believes it’s not even possible. in some ways it must be, because those girls sure as hell make his world better at least.

this isn’t how it’s supposed to feel.

his head yells loudly that this shouldn’t be a surprise, he taught them for this very reason; he taught them well; he did all he could to prepare them, and it’s fine, it’s probably fine; he should be proud, encouraging. his heart knows the more they’re built up the more there is to lose; the better they are the more dangerous the whole world becomes, and that world has more to lose too, and it’s not fine, it’s not fine at all when beautiful children born on a beautiful, peaceful island have to take up arms as if they should have to earn their place in this life with violence. if he’s being honest, he wants better for them. always has.

truth hits him via the throb of vasodilation. pounding him from inside out like a headache, like a heartache.

there is no soothing burn in his throat like anger he can turn into a weapon to point at threats, other than what he’s already been fighting. there is only love for his nieces, his family, fear of history repeating itself as rose petals drift away in the wind, never to return. and there is every reason he fights clawing in the pit of his stomach trying to tear apart every shred of hope he has left like his own personal grimm. he can love all he wants, but he cannot protect them from choosing their own path, even it follows all of his generation in bloody footprints.

he can barely claim allowance to feel this way. he’s not their father. and he’s too chicken shit to even go to the man who is and talk this out and commiserate.

he can only watch.

at least that’s something he’s good at.

watching.

qrow stretches himself out in the corner of a great big wooden frame at the top of beacon tower. work done, report given, he sinks into the windowsill to stay awhile. he watches the students coming and going down in the courtyard (happy and giggling under a cloudless sky - helping each other and teaching each other); listens to the scratch of Ozpin’s pen on paperwork; smells and tastes the whiskey from his flask; basks in the burn of it and the sun’s rays streaming in.

everything is beautiful, so beautiful from up here, in a place doing so much good.

it’s terrifying.

peace. a fragile thing, holding steady for now, like the glass he leans on.

but, oh, how easy it would be for one wrong move to make it shatter.

he scoots just the tiniest bit away and frowns, long limbs carefully curling in around themselves.

4.1

somehow even when Clover can see it, he’s not nearly as harsh of a judge as qrow is on himself. he struts right up and into that darkness with him, unafraid, unashamed, eyes never breaking their lock with his own. his gaze is not piercing like a point into his soul; no, it is worse. it is open and wide and forgiving, like the full spread of a hot meal on a dinner table after a cold night; it does not intrude, but beckons, calls qrow out and asks for him to step into the offered space all on his own.

...

Clover reminds him how to be seen, and how to be close, and how to balance strength and weakness. even as he holds him, he still watches him. like the man casts some damn sort of spotlight, or a searchlight in the night qrow couldn’t ever outrun even if he wanted to.

qrow can’t stand those scrutinizing eyes.

…because it means Clover cares.

he is not used to that much light in his life.

he is very used to lights going out around him.

he somehow always chooses to hold on to that light as long as he can, as he does now - head resting in the curve of Clover’s shoulder, spine straight in his embrace, pressure on his feet lighter. he will follow it, and fight for it, and dare himself to hope the world can be better if people can just

work

together.

4.2

Clover could do it. he had every capability, desire, and permission. he could do it over, and over, and deeper and deeper, and qrow would become every bit as addicted to it as his tendencies would have him cling. qrow wouldn’t stop him. not keep him from running into a burning, collapsing building ill-equipped to build a home of, if that is what he chose to do.

but qrow is a vagabond, even if no longer a spy. he is chaotic weaponry, cheap tactics, feral feathers, meant to be unbound and unburdened. he cannot invite him in. he cannot, in good faith, make tender promises to the poster child of the atlas military.

his mind is already a pinwheel, calculating and recalculating based on the briefest of interactions. how to not ask too much of this person. how to keep Ruby safe while still trying to get help or at least information for her. he knows how to pluck gently at small pieces until they come together, drop pebbles into a glass carefully until the water rises to the top.

it’s not raven’s hands that give her away, but her eyes. eyes so familiar in appearance and expression he may as well be looking in a mirror. that’s how it had always been. had been.

...

all the barbed wire around his heart squeezes, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s another trap.

but no matter the anger, no matter how he wants to turn and run himself, to fly off into the distance and just forget her forever, that would also fly in the face of everything he stands for - everything Oz fought for, and Oscar promotes in his stead: sit down and talk.

…and if he’s honest, carrying around the hole in his heart where his sister belongs hurts worse than letting her fill it right back up with blades of betrayal ever could.

7.1

qrow finds comfort in some change right about now, meandering the streets, satiating wanderlust in his down time, with few other idle desires left to choose fulfillment from. distraction through exploration.

...

he notes more bars than bookstores around these blocks.

qrow hangs his head, holds onto the familiar weight of Harbinger on his back, and newly-shined black boots kick an empty bottle on the sidewalk out of his way.

just keep walking, qrow. obstacle by obstacle, step by step.

keep moving forward.

7.2

qrow cries because there’s nothing left to do, and nowhere left to hide, and this is what life is like. thinking. feeling. caring. crawling out from his hiding places and into an intensity he’s never known. like he’s been dim-witted his whole forty years on this planet and only now understands what it means to be bright. so bright it burns more than any whiskey or abrasion or scathing look or cruel name he’s ever had.

nothing slows and it doesn’t stop, and he can’t keep the tears from falling just like his heart sinks. he cries like he’s trying to fill that broken bottle right back up, but that’s not possible now, there’s no structure, no end point for that pain, and sometimes you just have to let the broken parts go.

#* fate won't be your friend when i'm around = musing *#* hey i got a tip for ya = meme response *#* every choice i've ever made has led me here = drabbles *

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narilgc · 4 years

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𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . but i don’t regret the thing that i did !! hello all, i’ve been keeping this under wraps for the past few days but on a whim i’ve decided to bring on my second ( and last, i promise ) muse for the ride !! with that being said, it is jada here, max’s mun, but this time i’m presenting to you the wonderful im nari !! she was my initial idea before max, but i loved her too much to get rid of her !! i’m so excited for her to be here and i really hope she’s well received as well !! i’ve been slow on his acc for the past few days, and she’s the reason why, but now that i’ve gotten my life ( mostly ) together & things are running just fine again !! anyways, her profile’s here, and below you can find some general trivia on her as well as connection ideas !! oh, and like this to plot !

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 :

from damyang, south korea !! a v small agricultural town & was born into humble beginnings - a seamstress for a mom, and her dad a farmer !! so she lived on a small farm when she was younger and was raised with pigs, cows, and goats as pets !

she helped around the farm her whole time she lived home, so she has a lot of life skills t & knows all about caring for animals and tending the farm !

they weren’t well off by any means - they had a small income to spread thin between all those people - but they made it work !! she never felt truly slighted as she knew their situation, in fact in her own way, she was spoiled in the best way she could be given their predicament.

raised in a household full of boys - she’s the youngest w a family of 6 loud, rowdy boys.

so in a way she’s more of a tomboy, used to roughhousing and all her sibling’s antics !! she’s also used to doing a lot of heavy lifting around the farm so has surprising strength for her size.

on the other hand, being the youngest & only daughter has upped the girliness !! she’s used to being babied so knows all about acting cute & her mom was always using her as an experiment for all her clothes !! was raised on handmade dresses her mom made in all sorts of intricate patterns & loved it !!

has been an actress in the making for a g e s !!! it all started when she was a really young kid, her mom would let her watch the tv in the tailor shop so she’d have something to do while her mom was at work !!

so there was this drama “a rolling hills romance” ( which i TOTALLY made up lmao !! ) that she absolutely loooved !! it was about a farm romance and was one of the only ones she saw that wasn’t taking place in the city !! it just got her in love with acting in general though, she’d eventually memorize scenes from all the dramas she’d watch and recite them out of the blue !!!

eventually it got her into theatre acting, which was her favorite !! she started watching broadway shows from abroad, memorizing the songs even though she didn’t always know what they were saying. but she just loooved the whole thing, and when she was in middle school she joined her school’s theatre department !

this is where the majority of her english skills came into play - she would memorize the lyrics, and though she didn’t really know what they were saying after a while she began to understand some words !! so while her pronunciation is pretty good from mimicking actors, she lacks the vocab to really use it !!

so she’s really hesitant to speak in english, because if people hear her speak they think she’s a lot more fluent than she is & it lands her in awkward situations !! so she mainly just ... doesn’t do that lol !!

i can’t believe i forgot this when i first wrote this !! this is a very vital part of her character omg !! her first “acting debut” if you could call it that was for a chocolate commercial when she was 8 !! basically she was in this christmas commercial for peppermint chocolates that got on tv and everyone in her town went crazy !! she like goes and delivers these chocolates while singing jingle bells and it’s wholesome and cute and swet !! it wasn’t that big at all lol but for their small town it was, and to them she’s a sort of small celebrity for it !! i’m sure some people might remember the commercial but notlike .... her yk ?? because that was her first and last role for a while lol !!

anyways !! she’s always been self-conscious of her looks - she felt like she wasn’t pretty enough, and limited her confidence. so at 16 she got 2 part-time jobs to begin saving up money, and at 17 she went to seoul to get a nose job & jaw reduction surgery.

and things seemed to be great after that !! she was confident, gaining more friends, but the real excitement came when her mom read online about an audition for legacy and jokingly asked if she wanted to do it.

legacy had never even be on her radar !! she had always heard her friends talk about them for idols, but she had never thought of them as a company that accepted actresses. upon reading though, she was hooked !! she begged her parents, and they originally rejected the idea because they thought it was one of her phases. however, after much persuasion, they allowed her to attend auditions !!

she never expected to get in, she wanted to do it more as an experience than anything. but to say it was a shock was an understatement !! but she was so so incredibly happy.

had a hard time adjusting initially - she was only 17, and almost right after getting there she had to spend her birthday alone since she hadn’t made any friends yet. and although she’s naturally outgoing, it was really hard for her to be social at first because she was surrounded by so many more people than she was used to !!

for the past few years nari’s been doing general idol training, though that’s about to change !! she’s significantly improved her dance skills ( which were nearly nonexistent prior to training ) & gotten a lot better at her singing !! but her heart’s still deep into acting, and she knows that she wants to do that as well as some modeling !

she still suffers a lot with her self confidence, and there’s a lot of pressure for her to do well ! in school, because she’s the first of her family to go to university, and as a trainee, because she’s risked so much for it & doesn’t want to disappoint since her family has v high expectations for her !

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 :

a little lovebug !! she’s literally so loving and accepting of everyone - definitely, someone you can come to talk out any issues, she listens & provides support, free of any judgement !! also v keen on skinship i apologize in advance

she’s come out of her shell a lot since she got to seoul, but she’s still a little shy if she doesn’t know you well or is put in a situation w a lot of people !! pls be patient with her ^^

like max, she’s got a lot of energy in that little body !! but she actually has adhd so a lot of it isn’t really by choice. it frustrates her a lot because it limits her focus & has the tendency to make her restless. it was worse when she was younger, but has gotten better as she’s gotten older and she takes medicine to keep everything in check.

she’s also got v low self-confidence, she’s never been satisfied with herself and constantly wants to get better !! despite the surgeries, she’s still got a lot of insecurities both physically and not, but keeps them bottled up a lot bc she doesn’t want to burden others !! ( i want to shake her !! ) bc of that, she takes both criticism & compliments very seriously, she’ll turn all red if someone gives her the smallest compliment but will also overanalyze & judge herself if she gets critiqued.

in fact her surgery’s almost made her more self-conscious, as she now feels that all the opportunities granted to her are because of her looks post-surgery. the worst insult she could get was she’s only succeeding because of her looks, because she’s worked so hard on her skills and she wants them to be what takes her forward, not something she had to pay to get.

despite that, she’s the true definition of a happy virus !! on the outside, she’s almost always smiling, and when all the other stuff doesn’t get in the way, she is on the inside too !! always trying to look on the optimistic side & give people a fresh perspective !

on that note she’s v childish, and sometimes she has to remind herself w younger trainees coming in she’s being seen as more of an example and needs to be ~serious~!!

the duality is real !! in performances, sad / angry scenes are actually her specialty, and right after she’ll just spring up and smile like what’s up guys !!! a lil creepy when she goes from sobbing to giggling so she’s learned to transition a little better lmao !!

she always wanted to be a youtuber, but never got the chance, and by the time she joined legacy she wasn’t allowed to have an account. so now she has these little vlogs she does to send her parents ! they’re mainly of her getting ready, hanging out with friends, and practicing ( all out of training hours, ofc ) so she can often be found seemingly talking to herself, even though she’s really recording videos !!

though being an idol wasn’t her initial dream, she adores the music. her love for the kpop genre has made the last few years more bearable, and girl crush concepts are her absolute favorite !! she’s been religiously keeping up w future dreams like she’s still just a fan back at home, and you’ll catch her humming all around the company building !!

in fact, prior to joining legacy, she had a fan blog for all her faves where she would provide commentary called ri raves !! it was ... a sight !!

she’s pansexual, and leaning towards girls !! it’s something she’s really shy about sharing bc of the fear of judgment, but if she tells you know you have all her trust !!

a little spoiled tbh !! she’s got the youngest child syndrome BAD, and since she was the only girl she’s used to things being done for her !! not in the bratty way, it’s just made her a little lazy and she loooooves attention and being doted on.

don’t let her appearance fool you though !! she’s got surprising strength ... strong woman do bong soon’s not her favorite show for no reason !!! all those years of defending herself from her brothers’ teasing had to come in handy, you know ?? we’ve got a black belt in hapkido here folks !!

definition of a theatre kid, starts bursting out into songs she loves out of nowhere omg it’s embarrassing ?? also overreacts about everything omg the world is on fire according to her !! she’s gotta faint dramatically !!!

she’s got the jeolla-do dialect, and prior to working on her standard dialect it was veeery prominent ! it makes her say a lot of words differently than someone from seoul might, and after realizing she was one of the only ones with it she’s been trying to make her speech sound more like standard korean nowadays.

she’s taken up sewing from her mom, and especially loves embroidery !! so she always loves upcycling & spicing her outfits up !!

definitely has a unique fashion sense because of it - in addition to that she’s very frugal, and favors thrifted clothing !! she’s got a mix of vintage, chic, and artsy style !

a rule follower !! veeery unlike max, she tends to stick to the rules out of fear of what will happen if she doesn’t, because she has way too much on the line to quit now !

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :

acting buddies ?? i know there aren’t too many, but even if that’s not your muse’s preferred career path, any muses who have a passion for theatre are welcomed as well !!

someone who unlike her, is v wild and lives on the crazier side !! she’s constantly going into a responsible panic when they’re around and they’re always trying to get her to loosen up !!

someone who co-stars in her little vlogs to her family !! hey, if you can’t be youtubers for real you might as well pretend, right ??

someone who made her adjustment to seoul easier as she transitioned from country to city life !! they’ve lived in seoul for a long time / their whole life and know all the best spots to show her !!

someone who’s clothing she likes to spice up, she’s always embroidering or adding pattern to their clothes to give their outfit a little flair !

someone who knows her past her happy side, who she’s got on speed dial whenever she’s feeling down and needs someone to talk to, and vice versa !!

someone who she came out too, be it on purpose or by accident, and it’s caused her to grow really attached to them bc it’s one of the most personal things about her !

a girl she’s got a crush on but is terrified to tell !!! like yes you’re pretty .... but these things are never easy !!! she’s gonna tell you .... eventually !!

and ofc - exes, flirtationships, summer loves, anything of the sort !

someone she lowkey fangirls over ?? she still hasn’t accepted the fact that she & the other trainees are kinda on the same level, someone she’s kind of became a fan of and can’t really function around them ??

by some crazy chance, this person has come across her old kpop fan blog at one time or another and won’t !!! let !!! her !!! live !!! it !!! down !!! will you accept her bribe and swear to never bring it up again ??? please ???

someone she doesn’t like ??? this is v rare but ... for one reason or another, she can’t stand them and transforms to a completely diff person around them !!

someone who made the mistake of teasing her a little too much or insulted her so much that she just straight-up tries to take them down !!! v unexpectedly !! bonus if it’s someone way out of her fighting capabilities !!

more ideas coming when i create an official plots page !!

#( nari & mun ! )#so late ... i apologize o.o #i will rb tomm !!#& i will be getting to all your lovely mssgs ty !!

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narniaandplowmen · 4 years

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Mysterious Fathoms Below (3/8)

Fandom: OUAT Pairing: Captain Swan Also on AO3

Rated: General Audiences Complete Full Fic is 12005 words

Summary: When a storm throws Killian overboard, a mysterious mermaid who saves him. Now it is up to him to save her and bring her back home.

[first chapter] • [previous chapter] • [next chapter]

CHAPTER 3 - Buttercup Mark

“A two-minute swim,” Killian huffed. “Sure, for a mermaid it is.” It had taken him almost ten times as long to reach the coast, and another couple of minutes to find a place that wasn't made out of gold where he could actually climb on land. He was soaked and cold and frustrated. And, he had to admit, curious. Why did that mermaid save him? And what had she meant with her parting words? “Excuse me,” he approached a young boy carrying a bucket and a mop. ”Have you seen a splendid ship docked here, named the Jolly Roger?”

~ ~ ~ ~

“I-I'm sorry Captain, w-we thought you were dead, Captain, I- we-”

“It's okay Smee,” Killian replied in an annoyed huff. He turned and continued inspecting the Jolly Roger. It would cost quite a lot of gold to repair the damage the storm had brought. The mast was broken and the rudder was almost splintered. He thought back at Emma. “Smee. How do you contact a mermaid King and Queen?”

“Why, captain?”

“Don't ask me why, Smee. Tell me how.”

~ ~ ~ ~

A merman hurried through the hallways of the underwater castle. He passed rich statues, beautiful curtains, immense portraits without even a passing glance. He only stopped when the giant doors to the throne room were right in front of him. “I bring news for the King and Queen. It's urgent.” The doors open and reveal a gigantic room. Gorgeous pillars holding up a shimmering roof covering two towering thrones, seating a black-haired woman sitting proudly next to her blonde husband. Only those who look carefully would be able to see the bags underneath their eyes, the weight on their shoulders and the grief in their hearts. “Your Majesties. A pirate has arrived at the Sunrock. He said he wanted to speak to you. He said it was urgent. He said it was about-” the man swallowed, fearing his message was just false hope. “About Princess Emma.” the King and Queen rose at once. Gossiping voices filled the room. It had been a while since news about the lost princess had reached the castle. Most of it was false anyway, but the King and Queen refused to give up hope. The punishment for false information was severe, ranging from steep fines to eternity in prison.

“Who is this pirate? Bring us to him!”

“He- He said he would return in two days, my Queen. He said, that if you would see him, he'd be at the Sunrock at dawn.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Mr Smee looked at his Captain in shock. “A magic bean? How did you get that?”

“Let's just say, Mr. Smee, that someone owed me a favour.”

“If we sold that-” Killian could almost see the gold coins in his eyes. “We- we'd be rich! We'd be able to repair the ship a dozen times over!”

“Aye, but we could be even richer if we use this bean to pick up a little package.” Smee grinned.

“Well, Captain, where are we going?”

“Anaheim.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Emma threw the shell on the floor. Again a dead trail. That stupid merman really did not want to be found. He was good. Better than the previous bastards she had caught. But she liked a challenge. What was she missing? She read through the information again, but her buttercup mark, as well as the memories of the events following the previous storm, kept distracting her. She sighed and got up. This was no use. She should never have saved that blasted, lying, human pirate. He knew nothing about her, or her life, or her parents. For all she knew, he could've overheard her name somewhere, recognised her mark and made something up on the spot to save himself. Of course, Emma had heard tales of the lost princess of Atlantia. Many girls her age had dreamed that they were the one. Emma had allowed herself to dream too, once. But she had been found many realms away, left in a kelp forest. She was lucky someone had found her, or her life would have ended right there. A soft little dinner on a green platter, for any interested shark to devour. Emma huffed, grabbing a piece of cloth to cover her buttercup mark. Her? A princess? She looked down at her tail, absentmindedly tracing the small lines over her fin. The result of her punishments in the orphanages, too many to count. For speaking before her turn, for fighting, for stealing food, or talking back at the supervisors. For not selling enough, for selling too many. There was always a reason to be suspected of stealing or misbehaving in any way. No, Emma wasn't a princess, she was a simple, ordinary orphan with a job and a fugitive merman to find. A stupid, lying pirate would not change a thing about that.

~ ~ ~ ~

There was already someone on the island when she arrived for her weekly sunbath. It was the pirate, casually sitting in the sand and throwing dice. “What are you doing here? And how did you even get here?” Emma asked, with a disgusted voice.

“What is it love, not happy to see me?”

“I brought you to your ship. Whatever you need I am not giving it to you.”

“Well,' Killian smiled. “It seems like I have misplaced myself again. My crew and I were looking for- treasure.”

“And you were wondering if you could steal some from me?”

“No.” the pirate replied, rolling his dice again. 2 sixes and a four. “I know well enough you don't have any to spend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Emma Swan. Bail bond mermaid. Orphan. Late on rent.”

“Did you spy on me?” The dice again rolled over the wet sand, resulting in a five, a three and a two. The black-haired pirate cursed underneath his breath, apparently having lost the game against himself.

“You are not the only one capable of doing research,” he replied.

“You come to my realm, on my island, just to insult me?”

“No, I came to your realm, to your island, to offer you a deal.”

“I am not stealing anything for you, filthy-”

“I am well aware of your opinion on me. Now, at last here me out. I can get you a large sum of money, enough for a whole year of rent, if you can get me and my crew back to the Enchanted Forest by dawn, tomorrow. Right around the SunRock, that would be great.” Emma raised an eyebrow.

“And where would you get that money?”

“Ah, a pirate never reveals his secrets.”

“Why should I trust that you will actually pay me?”

“You can't. But right now, I am your only bet at gaining anything. And it shouldn't take you longer than an hour.” Killian got up and walked towards a small boat dragged on the sand. “Just think about it. I will be back here tomorrow, an hour before dawn. Enjoy your sunbath.” With those words, he dragged the boat back into the sea and rowed away.

“Fine. I'll do it.” Emma said, even before Killian could open his mouth. She had received a not-so-friendly visit from her homeowner about the rent. She needed that money, now. And, as much as she hated to admit it, the pirate was right. He was her only bet. There was no chance she'd find the fugitive merman in time, and that would still leave next month's rent to be paid. “Let's go to your ship, I'll make you a portal and you better pay me after we arrive.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“She is beautiful! Our little princess,” the King smiled upon his newborn daughter. “

She has your hair.” his wife replied.

“But she has your tail.” he countered, hugging his wife tight. Suddenly, the seafloor started to shake, and the castle with it. Black waves upon waves entered through the now shattered windows and the newly forming cracks in the floor, swirling around, snatching the infant from its parents.

“No!” The Queen's scream has not yet died away before a black-tailed mermaid enters the room, cackling. '

“I told you I would destroy your happiness. Well, here I am, to fulfil my promise. You didn't think I would forget about it, did you?”

~ ~ ~ ~

Snow and her husband looked at each other, nervously. The two days were over and almost the entire court had gathered at the SunRock. Ruby, her loyal friend, dove up behind her. “Do you want more privacy?” she whispered.

“Yes.” The mermaid Queen could not say more, in fear she would break down in front of the crowd. In the past twenty-eight years she had tried so desperately not to lose hope, but each false report of someone promising they'd seen their daughter was a huge blow to the royal couple. Yet, with every report, they could not help but hope. Twenty-eight years and three days, it had been since the Sea Witch had created her terrible storm, stealing their child and laughing, laughing about it. They had captured her, removed her magic and chained her up, but she refused to talk. The princess had disappeared, and the royal's happiness with it.

A shark with red stripes appeared, chasing away the curious crowd. Snow smiled, recognising the over-dramatic flair of her friend. Even though by now many people knew of the shape-shifting abilities of the Queen's best friend, they still feared the shark when it appeared. Suddenly, a surge of magic disturbed the water and a huge pirate ship appeared nearby the rock. The Queen was extra grateful for her friend, for the ship would have injured some of the crowd gathered to potentially see the mermaid princess for the first time. The King and Queen locked eyes, held hands and waited.

~ ~ ~ ~

“You want to find your child again, dearie?” A golden merman locked in a cage giggled. 'You know me, I'm always willing to make a deal!”

“What do you want?” The desperate couple replied.

“Hehehee! You. Want help. From me? What a delightful turn of events! Hmmm. Yes, yes, I know what I want! That magic squid of yours. The one whose ink got me locked up in this cage?”

“I am not going to kill him.” Even though the Queen's face is filled with tears, her voice is unwavering. “He is my friend.”

“Oh no, dearie, you don't have to kill him. Squid was never really my favourite meal, you know. I just want you to- empty the cartridge.”

“What?”

“Well, get rid of its ink, of course! You must realise, that black stuff is horrible for your clothes. I was wearing my good shirt when you caught me!”

“And if we do it. Can help us find our daughter?”

“Your daughter? Oh, she is lost for the next twenty-eight years, of course.”

“What?”

“Part of the curse, you know. Nothing I can do about that”!

“Let's go. He is of no use.”

The King started to turn around, grabbing his wife's arm to take her with him.

“Wait wait wait!” The golden merman looked panicked.

“What do you want, Rumplestiltskin?” The Queen sounded tired. The golden creature closed his eyes, waving his hands as if seeing through them.

“Someone will find your child, at her twenty-eighth birthday. He will bring her back to you. She will have a perfect little buttercup mark, on her left wrist.” He opened his eyes again and giggled. “H ow ridiculous! Why would an adolescent mermaid, who thinks she is an orphan, ever believe someone telling her she is a lost princess?”

“Can you help, or not?”

“Of course I can help! I can make you a trinket, hmm, let's make it a crown! Seems fitting, no? And then, when you place it upon your head, he will understand. How about that, for a deal?”

~ ~ ~ ~

“Now, pay up.” It was the first time Emma spoke after agreeing to create the portal. Killian looked down at the mermaid beneath him, then at the SunRock a few dozen meters away. The King and Queen were there, as promised. Emma did not seem to have noticed them yet. “I brought you to your stupid SunRock, now I want my payment. You have wasted enough of my time.”

“Calm down lass, your payment is coming.” Killian jumped down into the water. Emma turned, suddenly noticing the mermaid guards around the nearby rock.

“What is happening?” Emma panicked. “Where did you take me? What did you do?!”

~ ~ ~ ~

Emma prided herself on being a fast swimmer. But she was carrying a bag of diamond necklaces, which did not necessarily improve her speed. She knew the neighbourhood well, she and Neal had made sure to discover all the best hiding spots before attempting their heist. But something had gone wrong, and now she was being chased by a whole police force. They knew. They knew she was coming. It was Neal, it must have been him. There was nobody else that knew of their plans. And why else wouldn't Neal be waiting at their rendezvous point? He had betrayed her. Emma had no time to wipe away her tears as she turned a corner, and another one. She was fast, but the mermaids chasing her were faster. Before she knew it, she was locked up. One and a half years in prison. No probation. From that moment on, Emma had decided never to trust anyone again. She had become a bail bonds mermaid, chasing cheating husbands and stealing business managers. But, even though her job got her into constant contact with the police, she never trusted them. Or anyone. Ever again.

~ ~ ~ ~

Calm down, lass, calm down!” Killian saw the panicked look in Emma's eyes.

“Where did you bring me?” Suddenly, a knife was pushed against his throat.

“Technically,” he answered, trying to stay afloat without pushing himself further into Emma's knife, “you brought us here.” Suddenly, a two faces dove up out of the water next to them A man and a woman, looking at her with an emotion Emma could not place. Emma glanced at the crowns firmly placed upon the mermaid's and merman's head. She lowered her knife and awkwardly nodded at them.

“Your- Your Majesties?”

“Emma?” the woman replied, her voice disbelieving.

“How- How do you know me?” Suddenly, she turned around to face Killian, again pointing her knife at him. “Is this because of your ridiculous notion that I am some lost princess, just because I have a mark similar to that of the royal crest?”

“So it is true?” the merman looked at her incredulously.

“May we- may we see your mark?” the Queen added, pleading. Hesitantly, Emma held out her left arm. Before she knew it, the Royal couple of Atlantia engulfed her in a tearful hug.

“What is happening?”

“You're our daughter, Emma.” the teary-eyed Queen replied.

“No.” Emma pulled back. “I am an orphan, found in a kelp forest. I am not your child, I am sorry for wasting your time.' Emma started to turn around. The King held out a silver trinket. A tiara.

“Please. Just put it on, and you will understand.”

“I am sorry, Your Highness.” But before she could dive, the crown was already placed upon her head and everything went black.

~ ~ ~ ~

A black-tailed mermaid, crashing a Royal wedding. “ I will destroy your happiness if it is the last thing I do.”

Black waves and a mother's cry as a baby is swept away.

Orders shouted at soldiers, to search each and every realm.

Royal visits to each on-land country, asking for their daughter.

Promised rewards, a captured SeaWitch refusing to talk.

Tearful nights, political advisors stating the hopelessness of the situation.

Requests to stop the expensive search, a vetoed protest by the King and Queen.

False information and deceptions.

A twenty-eight-year-long search for their missing daughter, for the lost princess of Atlantia.

For her.

~ ~ ~ ~

Killian Jones smiled and turned as he saw his blonde saviour embrace her parents. “Get the anchor, Smee.” he said, after climbing back aboard.

“But Captain- the gold? Treasure? Reward?”

“We're going, Smee.' Killian turned and started shouting commands to his crew. He knew he would be welcome at the royal mermaid family at any time. And, if he was honest, he would not mind getting to know the newly found princess a bit better.

#ouat #killian jones #ouat ff #cs ff #cs au #ouat au #emma swan #mermaid!emma #reposting #mysterious fathoms below #onceuponadisneyqueue #q #written by me

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