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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Don't Speak 21

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Sickness be gone!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Dr. Kemp gave me this journal. I met him today. He’s a therapist. Or a psychologist? He’s a doctor and he’s going to help me.

I hope.

He told me to put my moods in here, to write about how I feel, and to set a small goal every day.

How I feel today: scared.

This morning was scary. We went to the doctor’s office and I didn’t know where we were going. I met Dr. Kemp and was less scared. Then we went to the mall and that was scary too. I tried on a short dress and that was scarier. Now we’re back at the house and I’m still afraid.

What if this doesn’t work either? What if I’m stuck this way forever? What if Dr. Kemp can’t help me?

A knock comes at the door and you tuck your new pen into the journal, closing it as you set it on top of your tablet. You put both on the nightstand as you call for Andy to enter. He inches open the door and pokes his head around.

“Hey,” he says, “I was just thinking, it’s been a long day. We can order in for the night?”

You shrug. You’re not very hungry. The large breakfast keeps your appetite at bay. Your anxiety helps as well.

“Um, that’s okay. I’m not very hungry.”

He sighs, his hand on the door. His fingers tap on the wood as he grips his hip, “you really shouldn’t skip meals. It’s not good for you.”

“I ate a lot this morning–”

“That was hours ago. You need to eat,” he insists, “I missed a week of work, honey, I can’t miss any more. I need you to start trying. Didn’t Dr. Kemp talk to you about this?”

You wince. He’s upset. You didn’t mean to make him angry.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, “I’ll, uh… take out sounds good.”

He lets the door fall all the way open. He crosses to the foot of the bed and touches the top of one of the shopping bags. You chew your cheek as you watch him.

“Are you gonna put all this away?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’ll do that now,” you get up.

He bought all those clothes, he took you to the doctor, on top of everything else. The least you can do is choke down a meal he’s also paying for. You go to the closet and open it up. You have two sweaters and a pair of jeans hung there. The rest of the hangers are empty.

“Chicken or beef?” He asks as he backs up.

“Hmm?” You look back at him with a handful of hangers.

“For dinner?”

“Oh, chicken,” you answer as you come back to the bed, “I’ll come down after I finish with all this.”

“Sure… uh, I could help,” he offers.

“No, I can do it,” you say, “that’ll be my small task today. Put this away and tidy up the room.”

He nods, both hands on his hips, “sounds like a good plan.”

You try to smile but your cheeks only twitch. You focus on taking out the clothes from the bag and looping them over the plastic hangers. He lingers and slowly slides out his phone. He turns on his heel and leaves you, thumbing at the screen with a hum.

You’re tired of letting everyone down. Amber, Andy, yourself. You’re not going to let Dr. Kemp down. You’re really going to try. You look over at the journal and take a deep breath.

They’re just pages, but you finally have someone to talk to. Someone you can tell everything. The paper can’t answer you but it can listen without judgment. And in the end, you can always crumple it all up and forget the words.

You get everything hung, folded, and some put aside for the wash. There’s a weight of dread in your feet. You don’t want to go downstairs, you’d rather stay up here and lay down. It’s been a long day and you’re exhausted.

You find Andy in the living room. You bring your tablet to quell your restless hands. You sit on the far end of the couch as he watches a ball game. You peel back the cover and take out the pen.

“Not a baseball fan?” He asks.

You pop your head up and look over at him. You shrug. You look at the screen as the umpire calls a strike.

“Don’t watch sports,” you answer.

“Ah, didn’t want to assume,” he leans forward, elbows on his arms as he presses his hands together, “we can watch something you like. I can catch the highlights tomorrow.”

“No, it’s okay,” you swipe the nib across the screen, “I like listening to this.”

You tuck your legs up and hunch over the tablet. You sense him watching you before he slowly leans back against the couch. You draw without thinking, a twisted elm tree with crows in the branches.

The commentators offer a steady soundtrack for your work. The crowd jeers then roars, swaying with the momentum of the game. You pick the perfect shadow of brow to add streaks to the trunk of the tree. You feel the couch shift but don’t look up. It isn’t until Andy’s right beside you that you tear your attention from your work.

He’s close. Very close. You sweat as heat radiates off of him. He stretches his arm behind you as he leans in to look at your drawing.

“Just a sketch,” you lower the pen.

“Pretty,” he says, “I’m not very artsy. Writing’s chicken scratch.”

You nod, “art is art. As long as you’re creating.”

“Pretty good way of looking at it,” he leans in closer, placing his hand on the corner of the tablet, “do you ever draw people?”

“Sometimes,” you answer, wilting at his proximity. He seems even bigger as he crowds you. You look up at the TV and drag the cover over the tablet, “why are they cheering?”

He lifts his head and exhales heavily. He retracts his arm from behind you and points with his other hand.

“Hitter just got a double and another player got home,” he says, “tied it up. If they can get another run, they’ll win. If not… well, another inning.”

“Oh,” you blink. You really don’t know much about baseball.

“We could go to a game, maybe, if you’re interested,” he offers, “they have great pretzels.”

“Maybe,” you keep your eyes on the TV, even as his head turns and he narrows in on you.

The heat between you becomes stolid. You have no space to turn over and you’re too afraid to stand up and go. You don’t want to upset him. He probably doesn’t realise how close he is. Plus, your personal bubble tends to be bigger than most.

The doorbell rings, breaking the tension, and drops his head as he grips his thighs. He stands with effort and you put aside your tablet. You listen as he answers the door and the crinkle of a paper bag underlines his exchange with the delivery driver.

He shuts the door and the smell of the take-out wafts in, stoking your hunger. You get up and meet him at the doorway, following him to the dining room. As he puts the bag down on the table, you wring your hands.

“Should I get plates?”

“Sure, sweetie,” he says as he rips past the staple in the fold of the bag, “that’d be great.”

🕊️

You can’t help but be relieved when Andy goes back to work. The house is still cold and lonely to you, but you’re happy to be alone. You set yourself a goal for each day; in the very least, you’ll make dinner, and when you feel up to it, you’ll do one other thing.

Monday, you spend most of the day painting. You make a decent amount of progress by the time Andy returns. You reheat leftovers for the night and make sure to tidy the kitchen.

Tuesday, you do the laundry. It feels like a great accomplishment as you sit and fold everything before Andy gets back. You leave his clothes on his bed. He’s pleased by your efforts and you are too.

Wednesday, you paint some more and vacuum the first floor. Thursday, you clean the bathroom, and Friday sees you so exhausted that you only do a quick sweep before starting supper. Each day, you record in your journal. Not just your tasks but your feelings; the pendulum between helpless and sad and proud swings back and forth throughout the week.

Saturday comes and you stay in bed late. You’re tempted to stay there and sleep all day until a knock sounds from the other side. You knew he wouldn’t let you.

“Dove,” he calls through, “you have an appointment at noon.”

“What?” you sit up and rush across the room. You crack the door open and peek out, “I didn’t know…”

“I mentioned it, didn’t I?” He asks.

He may have. Sometimes you forget things. You fight a frown and dip your chin.

“I’ll get ready, I’m sorry.”

“No problem. I’ll have breakfast waiting,” he looks through at you, his eyes searching, trying to see through the gloom. “Why don’t you wear some of your new clothes?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you murmur, “thanks.”

You shut the door and watch the shadow underneath. He doesn’t go right away but when he does, you flip on the lights. You go to the closet and ponder the selection. It’s a bit overwhelming. The skirts and dresses.

You take out a pleated plaid skirt and a pumpkin coloured turtleneck. Andy didn’t particularly like it but he let you grab it anyway. You put it on with a pair of ribbed black tights. At least you’re covered up, even if it’s all a bit snug.

You go into the bathroom and get freshened up; brush your teeth, wash your face, put some moisturizer on. You’d started using more of the bottles piled into the basket. You feel bad just letting them go to waste.

You go downstairs, the smell of toast greeting you as you enter the kitchen. Andy looks over his shoulders and still the knife as he butters a slice. He turns to you fully and grins, “wow, you look… nice.”

“Oh, thanks, I…” you pull at the fabric across your stomach, “maybe I need a bigger size.”

“No, no, really,” he finishes scraping the butter across the hard bread, “you look really nice.” He grabs a plate and brings it to you as you stand by the island, “those tights look warm.”

“Um, yeah,” you look down, twisting one leg behind the other, “not really.”

He nods and clicks his tongue, “anyway, breakfast,” he hands you the plate, “enjoy.”

“Thanks,” you say as you take it, “er… are we going to see Dr. Kemp?”

“Uh huh,” he goes back to the counter and takes out another slice from the toaster, “you… you like him?”

“Sure,” you cradle the plate, slowly drifting to the door, “he’s nice.”

“Well, you know, you can always let me know if you don’t.”

“What?”

“Just… if he makes you uncomfortable or anything,” he shrugs, “you know I’m always here for you, dove.”

You don’t say anything else. You go into the dining room and set down your plate. You’re almost excited to go see Dr. Kemp. Strangely so. You can’t wait to tell him everything you did this week and talk about your new pens for your journal. It feels like you’ve actually made progress, for once in your life.

🕊️

You sit in the same chair as last time. Dr. Kemp stands by the window. His cool demeanour is a counterweight to your tense anxiety. You chew your fingertips as he turns and pace towards the wall. He stops and flicks on the electric kettle set on the polished console table.

“You like tea?” He asks.

“Um, yeah,” you clutch your hand into a fist and lay it on the armrest.

“Green? Black? I have Earl Gray,” he offers.

“Green is fine,” you wiggle your foot, the action drawing his gaze. His piercing blue eyes crawl up your legs and he considers you with calm calculation.

“New clothes?” He prompts.

“Y-yes,” you open your hand as you bend your arm, rubbing your neck.

“Hmm, cute. I liked that sweater you wore last time.”

“Oh, it was old,” you scratch along your hairline.

“It’s whatever you're comfortable in,” he says, “skirt’s nice but… I don’t know. Not quite you.”

You don’t comment. He’s not wrong. It’s too short and the pattern is cute but you find the fabric stiff. You bring your hand forward and tap your chin.

“So, did you have a good week?” He asks.

“I think… I did a lot. Exactly what you said,” you push your shoulders up, clasping your hands in your lap. He watches you intensely, not looking away as he listens. “I used the journal and uh, I made myself set goals. Erm, oh, I made dinner every night and I cleaned–”

“That’s great,” he turns and takes two mugs from the stacked tower of porcelain. He drops in the tea bags before he backs up. He crosses his arms, pacing around as he rubs his chin, “but what about things for you? Not cleaning or cooking. Those are chores. You should be doing things just for you.”

He leans on the side of the sofa. You squeeze your hands tight and teeter on the edge of the chair. Your chest sinks.

“Well, I… I guess I didn’t… I thought…”

“It’s okay, there’s no wrong answer here. But this week, I want you to focus on you. Do things for you. Treat yourself kindly,” he drops his arms and hooks his thumbs in the tops of his pockets, “you could do a face mask, have a bubble bath, or even just read a book you enjoy.”

“Oh, okay.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being nice to yourself. Self-love is important. If you don’t find worth in yourself, other people won’t either.”

“I’ll try,” you agree.

“That’s all you need to do,” he smiles as the kettle clicks off and he pivots on his heel. He pours the steaming water in the mugs and continues, “today, I think we should talk about your sister.”

“What?” You gulp.

“You mentioned her before. She seems to be a big part of your life,” he sets the kettle down, “I’d like to know more about her.”

You tuck your lip in and frown. You don’t know if you can talk about Amber. You’re still so confused about her. But what is all this for. To understand how you feel. And like he says, it’s all confidential.

“Amber… her name is Amber,” you eke out, “er…I don’t know where to start…”

“Take your time,” he coaxes, “we can take it slow.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #library au #don't speak #defending jacob

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blackhakumen · 1 year

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Mini Fanfic #1088: Sleepover Recovery Party (SSBU X River City Girls X Kingdom Hearts)

6:33 p.m. at the Smash Mansion's Living Room..........

Yoshi: (Clicks his Tongue While Looking Something Up on his Tablet and Sitting Next to Dark Pit on the Sofa) Man........

Dark Pit: (Turns to Yoshi) What's up?

Yoshi: (Shows Dark Pit the Picture and Proce of a Touch Screen Phone) Take a look at this.

Dark Pit: $242.99 for a new Toadsung, huh?

Yoshi: That's the price for a used one actually. (Slumps Down on his Seat) And the lowest one I can find so far......

Dark Pit: Dude, just ask your mom to buy you a new phone. I'm sure she shouldn't mind doing.

Yoshi: Yeah, but I rather not ask too much from her and dad right now, especially since Mother's Day is coming up in a few weeks. (Turns to Dark Pit) You have any ideas on what we should get for her and the rest of the moms this year?

Dark Pit: Other than our love and appreciation, I don't have the slightest clue.

Yoshi: Same.

?????: PITTO-KINS! YOSHIIIII!

The boys turn their attention to two of Pitto's Girlfriends, Misako and Kyoko, quickly making their way to them.

Misako: Your moms filled us in on what happened. (Sits Down Next to Pitto as She Takes a Look at his Face and Arms) How are you two holding up?

Dark Pit: Tired and exhausted, but we'll live.

Yoshi: With the exception of my phone that got perished during the crossfire...

Kyoko: ('GASPS') Say it ain't so......

Yoshi: ('Sigh') It's true. Got turned into nothing to dust after a while. Didn't stood a chance.

Kyoko: (Pulls Yoshi into a Tight Hug in Tears) You POOR THING!!~

Misako: (Gives her Girlfriend a Deadpinned Look on her Face) You seriously crying over a phone right now?

Kyoko: A new gen phone! It's too precious and highly advance to get involved in fights!

Misako: (Sighs While Rolling her Eyes) I mean, you're not wrong, but our two boys here has just gotten out from a two-on-five brawl.

Dark Pit: ('Scoffs') It was more like a beatdown if anything. They hardly let either of us fight back or even gave us a fair one to begin wit- (Suddenly Felt Misako Hugging Him) Whe the-

Misako: Thank your goddess mom that you're back home safe!.....

Dark Pit: Misako, are.....are you crying right now?

Misako: (Pulls Away From her Boyfriend as She Quickly Wipes her Tears Away While Blushing a Little) N-No!.....I just.....('Sniff') Have something in my eye is all.....

Dark Pit: ('Sigh') Look, you don't have to try and look tough for me. I know this today wasn't great for the both of us earlier.....

Misako: (Quickly Goes Back to Hugging Pitto as Tears Starts Falling Down her Face) Then we'll do whatever we can make it better for you right now, got it!?

Kyoko: Miski.......

Misako: ('Sniff') We are going to have ourselves a killer slumber party tonight, with all of our friends.......('Sniff') We're gonna make damn well sure that NO FUCKER would try and hurt either of you ever again!!

Kyoko: (Joins in on the Pitto Hug) That's right. We'll keep you boys safe no matter what.

???: That goes double for all of us.

Pitto felt a hand on the top of his head as turns around and sees Ren, Makoto, and the rest of the Phantom Thieves standing behind the back of the sofa)

Dark Pit: You guys are here too?

Ren: In the flesh. Hades and Sephiroth filled us in on everything.

Makoto: (Already Has a Worried Look on her Face) We came here as fast as we could.

Futuba: (Walks Over and Hugs Yoshi With Lavenza and Morgana Joining With Her) You two have no idea how worried we are right now.

Lavenza: Who were those hooligans that hurt the both of you?

Dark Pit: The Foretellers. Or at least four guys wearing different masks were. (Rolls his Eyes in Annoyance) They're ringleader on the other hand, was some jackass with an eyepatch name Luxu.....

Misako: (Raises an Eyebrow in Confusion) Wait. Wasn't his name Xigbar at one point?

Kyoko: I thought his name was Braig.

Futuba: Back when he had a past life he was. Though, personally, I like his norted name better.

Kyoko: Oh riiiight! I forgot he was Organization XIII member!

Dark Pit: Yeah, well, I don't who or what is name is. All I know is that I'm tearing him and posse a new one the time I see either one of-

'DOOR OPENS'

???: WE'RE HOME!!

????: AT LAST!!

Makoto: Pit, Sora, is that you?

Pit: (Slowly and Exhaustedly Makes his Way to the Living Room With Sora While Panting) Yep.......It's.....the two us......

Sora: And......here I thought.......we would......never make it.......in time......(Sighs Heavily as Him and Pit Fell Down into the Ground)

Ren: (Snickers a Bit) Did you guys ran all the way from town to get here or something?

?????: Yeah.

The gangs turns to see Viridi, Riku, and Kairi entering the room.

Viridi: And left US behind!

Kairi: ('Sigh') It's a miracle none of us haven't ran to traffic along the way.

Riku: (Looks Down at the Tired Duo With Deadpinned Look on his Face) You know we could've easily got here with Dimension Rings, right?

Pit: ('Groans in a Bit of Annoyance') Of course we know that!

Sora: It just.......didn't occur to us at the time, ya know?

Kairi: (Stares the Same Deadpinned Look on her Face Along With Viridi) Riiight.....

Viridi: Suuuure it didn't....

Dark Pit: You two really are idiot twins......

Makoto: ('Sigh') Be nice...

The supposed idiot twins' eyes begins to widen and gets back up on their feet as they hear the broody very familiar voice of......

Pit/Sora: PITTO!!~

Pit: Are you okay!? Can you feel your everything!?

Sora: That jerk Luxu didn't break anything important, did he!? (Quickly Turns to Yoshi) You too, Yoshi, are you okay!?

Yoshi: Uhh....

Dark Pit: ('Sigh') Would you two calm down alright? Yoshi and I had already been healed since we got here.

Pit: Really? (Sees No Signs of Bruises on Either Pitto's or Yoshi's Body Before Sitting Back Down and Finally Sighing in Relief) That's relief......(Smiles a Bit Sheepishly) Guess we should've recognized that from the getgo, huh?

Viridi/Kairi: Ya think?

Sora: (Crosses his Arms While Thinking) I don't get it. Why would Luxu and even the Foretellers for that matter, would go out of their way to hurt you guys?

Dark Pit: To use me as guinea pig and Yoshi as they're pet.

Everyone: WHAT!?

Dark Pit: Yeah, apparently, they haven't seen an angel or a talking dinosaur before. So, instead of just talking to us and ask questions like any normal person would do, they attacked us, planned on taking us to whatever kind of lair they're hiding at, and would probably run tests on me until they'll have no use for me anymore, however long that will take.

Yoshi: Meanwhile, they were gonna keep ME as a pet for some kid in a tiger mask. Nevermind the fact that I have a family and life of my own to go back to. (Shakes Both his Hands From Side to Side as He Let's Out of Sarcastic Tone From his Voice) I'm just walking, talking dinosaur after all. I HAVE NO RIGHTS APPERENTLY!! (Crosses his Arms in Annoyance)

Morgana: (Went Back to Hugging Yoshi Along With Lavenza and Futuba) You'll always have rights to us, Yoshi.

Lavenza/Futuba: Indefinitely/Mmhm.

Yoshi: ('Sigh') I know.....Those Foreteller guys are really starting to tick me off.

Misako: (Already Fuming in Anger) You and me both......Who the hell does those bastards think they are!?

Dark Pit: Headaches. That's what. ('Sigh') But it's whatever at this point. I'm just glad to be home.....(Starts Looking Around at Everyone in the Room) With you guys.

Ryuji: (Chuckles Lightly) Awww~ (Puts on a Teasing Smirk on his Face) Is our resident Gumpy Angel Boi misses us already?~

Dark Pit: ('Scoffs') You wish! I just don't like being cooped up in here, bummed out.

Kyoko: Which is perfectly understandable. (Puts on Playfully Grin as She Playfully Pokes her Boyfriend's Cheeks) But those cute, red, puffy cheeks of yours are telling us a different story~

Dark Pit: (Notices the Blushes on his Cheeks Before Looking Away) Well, MAYBE my cheeks has only gotten red because of how hot this room has gotten.

Ren: I don't feel hot in here. (Turns to His Girlfriend Next to Him) Do you, hun?

Makoto: (Giggles a Bit) Why, no, my dear Ren-Ren, I do not feel any heat in here at all~ Everyone, do you feel anything heat related in here?

Everyone: Nuh-uh./Nope./Not a thing!

Sora: I felt sweat falling down my face from getting to here on foot.

Ren: (Gives his Angel Brother a Shit Eating Grin) Well, there you have it, Pitto. No one feels a thing and you're clearly talking out of your butt.

Dark Pit: And you people are still as obnoxious as ever, what's your point?

Misako: (Gives Pitto a Genuine Smirk on her Face) Don't try and act all tough now, babe. We all know how much you love us.

Dark Pit stares at Misako for a few seconds before letting out a sigh in defeat and looking away again.

Dark Pit: ............And don't forget it.

Futuba: (Smiles Brightly) And there you have it folks!~ Our Resident Grumpy Angel Boi really does love us to piece!~

Dark Pit: (Glares at Futuba) Will you quit calling me that!? I'm not always angry!

Pit: (Smiles Playfully) Hard to tell when you're not doing a good job debunking that fact~

Sora: (Puts on a Playful Yet Devish Smirk of his Own) I know how we can help make him feel better~ (Turns to Pit Next to Him) You know what I'm talking about, Pit?

Pit: Oh yeah~ (Looks Up at Everyone Else) What about you guys?

Everyone: (Nodded With a Smirk on Each of Their Faces) Mmhmm~

Dark Pit: (Eyes Widened in Fear) Oh no.

Everyone: GROUP HUGS!!!~

Dark Pit: Goddammit not again-

Pitto's fate has already been sealed as almost everyone in the room gathered around and gives him a loving, group hug, must to his usual distaste and annoyance. While that's happening, Riku stood there as he is lost in his own thoughts for quite sometimes.

Riku: ...............

?????: Something's wrong?

Riku: (Suddenly Comes Back to Reality as He Sees Viridi Standing Next to Him) Oh. Yeah, I was thinking about the Foretellers. And figure out what their angle here.....

Viridi: Maybe they want their names and recognition to be known? Didn't you say they disappeared a long time ago?

Riku: Yeah, after the Keyblade War ended. Even then I don't have the slightest clue on where they've been after all this time. ('Sigh') Don't even get me started on the whole mess with this Luxu guy or whoever he goes by....

Viridi: Probably best for us to worry about that some other time. (Starts Stretching her Arms Up in the Air) Right now, I am in DESPERATE need of relaxation right about now.....

Riku: (Chuckles Lightly) You don't say?

Viridi: (Immediately Pouts at Roku) Um yes actually! Being the Goddess of Nature for a thousand or so years takes a crapton of work, ya know?

Riku: I can imagine.

@albion-93

@cyber-wildcat

@caleb13frede

@theweebmaster31

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

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Chapter 8: Actions Speak Louder Than Words

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“Are you sure your grandma won’t mind taking care of Rice today?” You ask Kita as you two go back to your car. He humms, starting the engine of the car. “She’s really nice and down to earth. No wonder why you’re such a good boy.”

“You call me good boy as if I’m Rice,” Kita sighs, and follows the map on the monitor.

“Well, like father like son,” you chuckle and you hear him click his tongue in annoyance.

“Where are we going anyways?” Kita changes the topic, eyes on the road.

“You’ll see when we get there,” you say excitedly.

Kita continues to drive for about 10 more minutes until the navigation devive announces that you two have arrived at your destination. You hop out of the car and Kita follows behind you. You skip going to the elevator of the building, thrilled about the date you planned.

You two arrived in front of the entrance of the store and Kita reads one of the posters posted outside in confusion. “Learn how to bake treats for you and your furry friend...”

“If you wanted to bake, we could have just done it at home,” he tells you as you enter the store.

You sushed him and proceeded to the counter. “I don’t want to do the dishes.”

“Lazy ass,” he mumbles, but you hear, making you kick his calf weakly. You continue to speak with the lady behind the counter to confirm and pay for your reservation.

You have rented the whole place for a time period for the two of you. Since you’ve posted that video with him, fans have been speculated on who he is and are making theories. Being seen in public and risking his privacy are two of the things you least want on your date right now.

“You’ve reserved the whole place this morning, Miss (L/N). And you wanted to make dog treats, and cookies?” The staff confirms with you and you just nod and hand her your card. Kita sighs in disbelief. He didn’t want you to spend so much on your date. “Please come this way.”

She leads you to the kitchen where all baking needs are arranged. It was like the Sugar Rush kitchen but in brighter colors. “You requested for the recipe only tutorial so here is the tablet where you can find all the recipes you’ve requested. Your aprons are here. If you need anything, just press this button and we will assist you.” The staff instructs before leaving you and Kita alone in the kitchen.

Once she’s out of sigh, Kita turns to you. “Isn’t someone supposed to teach us or something?”

You look away, your lips pressed into a pout. “I wanted to spend this time alone with you so I kind of reserved a different type of class,” you explain to him.

He chuckles and messes your hair. “Let’s start baking then. Since you wanted to make a lot today.” He goes at the counter where your aprons are located.

“Can I set up my camera here? Just for documentation. I won’t post it,” you tell him and he nods. You set up the camera and go to the counter as well.

The pink aprons had your names embroidered on it as it’s included in your package. He puts it on without hesitance and hands you yours. While you are trying to tie the back of your apron, Kita approaches you and ties it from in front of you. Basically, he’s hugging you.

He notices your red face and asks you about it. “What’s wrong with you?” You don’t answer him and hold up the tablet to your face. You aggressively look for the first recipe, not able to look at him in embarrassment.

“First, we’re gonna make the sweet potato biscuits. Baby, can you get these ingredients for me? 1/2 cup peanut butter, then sweet potato puree in the same measurement. 4 eggs. 6 cups of whole wheat flour,” you narrate and Kita goes to the shelves to get them for you. You start preparing the ingredients while Kita preheats the oven and cleans the baking trays.

“These are a lot. I don’t think Rice can finish all of these,” Kita states, scrolling through the tablet to check the next recipes you will be following.

“It’s not all for Rice. It’s for the dogs I’m going to adopt.” You start and Kita has his eyebrows raised already from the word dogs. “I’m actually planning to start a foundation on stray and unwanted dogs. I plan to adopt all the dogs in the city compound and provide them a safer and friendlier shelter before they find a home. I found this abandoned land near our place and bought it last week. I’m still looking for someone who can feed and look after the dogs full-time since I’m busy with school.”

You mix the puree, peanut butter, and eggs first. Then, add the flour last. Kita just watches you, admiring you from the side. You sounded so proud and passionate about your plan. His heart beats faster just from the thought of it. He knows how busy you are with school and your work, but you still manage to spare some time in helping these dogs.

“Don’t just look at me, babe. Help me shape these treats,” you complain and he stands next to you. The new pet name causing him to smile for a bit. He starts rolling the dough in silence and you wait for him to finish, the cutter shaped in a dog bone in your hand.

You put the treats in the oven to bake for 13 minutes. While you two wait, you start making the frozen. Your eyes are stuck on the screen, looking for the perfect flavor for Rice. “I think he’ll like the peanut butter and banana more.”

“Nope. Strawberry and mangoes.” Kita disagrees with you.

“I know our son better than you. We’re making the banana and peanut butter,” you argue but he doesn’t give any reactions. “Fine. Let’s make both and see which he likes more later.”

You both start making the dog-friendly frozen yogurt. Your recipe only needed a cup of yogurt, 1/4 cup peanut butter and one mashed banana. ‘It seems edible,’ you think before taking a spoonful and eating it. ‘Weird but not bad.’ Kita catches you on act and he grimaces at what you just did. “It’s human food!”

“We’re making this for a dog,” he rebuts. You take a look at his yogurt mixture, and stretch your arm to his mixing bowl. He moves it away from you but you go after it. He stretches his arm up, holding his bowl in the air. “No. This is for Rice.”

“It’s just yogurt with mangoes and strawberries!” You fold your arms together, glaring at him.

“Are you Rice?” He deadpans so you turn and go back to your area. Kita puts the bowl back on the counter top, looking at you from time to time to make sure you won’t eat from it. He looks at the mixture he made and pokes his spoon in it. He licks the back of the spoon and you see it.

“See! You’re doing it!” You point and try to take a spoon from his bowl again, but he quickly hides it from you. “You’re a meanie!” You stick your tongue out at home and he mirrors your action, annoying you. “It doesn’t matter. Rice will like my frozen yogurt better.”

You hear the oven’s alarm go off so you forget about your little banter and run to the oven. You open it and quickly touch the steel tray, forgetting that it’s hot. You wince in pain and Kita clicks his tongue before going over with oven mitts. He takes the trays out and puts it on the counter to cool.

“Let me see your hand,” he orders you, removing the mitts from his hand and placing it beside the trays.

“It’s fine. It was a quick touch anyways,” you put your hand behind your back but Kita gently grabs your wrist to expose your burnt fingers. He slowly pushes your head back with his finger on your forehead, causing you to giggle because you know what’s about to come. Before he can start to scold you, you beat him to it. “I’m so clumsy and excited. I should be more careful next time.”

He narrows his eyes at you before giving the treats his full attention. Yours is also back on the treats, not minding the uncomfortable burn on your fingers. You don’t want to ruin your date just because you got hurt from your very own actions.

“Try it.” Kita takes one piece and hands it to you. Shaking your head, you for an x using your arms. “Why not? We made this with human food.” He tries to convince you using your own words. Hesitantly, you take the treat from his hand and take a small bite. You spit it out immediately and he starts laughing.

“It tastes awful! It’s like dirt!” You complain, running to the water dispenser at the corner of the room. “I hate you!” You stay away from him, upset.

“Come back here,” he tells you but you shake your head. “I’ll take a bite, too. Just come back here.” You slowly take small steps towards him, a cup of water ready for him. He takes a small bite from the treat and then another one. You gasp in disgust, moving away from him again. “You’re over reacting. It does not taste that bad. It’s actually pretty good.”

You gag from his words and he pulls you back by your wrist. You offer him the cup of water and takes it. “No wonder why Rice likes eating dirt.”

“How do you know what dirt tastes like?” Kita asks you, turning the tables. You chuckle sarcastically before looking at him.

“Oh, you’re changing the topic now, baby?” You give him a sly look and he just shrugs. You leave the treats alone to cool and you two proceed to making the cookies.

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe

Ingredients

227 g unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup caster sugar (or white sugar)

1 large egg

2 Tbsp water

1 and 1/2 tsp vanilla extract

2 cups flour, sifted

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp kosher salt

chocolate chips

“Okay so first you cut the butter into smaller pieces and cream it with both of the sugar,” you read the instructions on the tablet. Kita takes a whisk and starts creaming it manually. “You’re not going to use the electric mixer babe?” You look at his arm and his sleeve is tightening on his bicep from whisking. “You know what, stick to what you’re doing. You’ve already started it.” You lean your elbows on the counter, and goggle on his arm muscles. ‘To be held by those arms and chok-.’

“Done. What’s next?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You hurriedly look for the tablet, obviously distracted. ‘She really was just staring at my arms the whole time.’

“Next is to add an egg, water, and the vanilla extract,” you instruct and he follows. You on the other hand, prepare the dry ingredients. You sift the flour, salt and baking soda, creating a fog made of the powders.

“(Y/N),” Kita calls you sternly so you carefully do it this time. Scared, you clean up the dusts of flour on the counter. You give the dry ingredients to Kita and he mixes it together. It’s time to choose to the chocolate chips.

“Milk chocolate.”

“Dark chocolate.”

You competitively stare at each other before Kita grabs both. He puts 1/4 cup of each, but you’re unsatisfied. “More.”

“If I add more this will just become a chocolate chip with cookie,” Kita tells you. You take the jars of chocolate chips and pour more. Kita takes a deep breath in, extending his patience. He mixes the chips with the dough then puts it in the fridge so you’ll stop adding more chocolate to it.

The dog treats have dried so you look for a packaging. You find a cute little paper pouch and decide to use it. You grab a random tape and pen from the stationary station. You sit on one of the stools and put your phone on the counter.

“Baby help me name the dogs.” You request to Kita and he obliges. He sits beside you, very much interested in naming the dogs with you. “So luckily, there are only 20 dogs at the pound. So we need to put three pieces of treats per bag. You put the treats in and I’ll write their names on the bag.”

“Okay,” Kita complies and you scroll through your phone to find the photo album of the dogs. This is one of the times he finds you serious and loves the look on you. He likes you being playful and childish, but he digs this relaxed and composed personality as well.

You show him a picture of a dog, a smile growing on your face. Your smile is infecting him, he can’t hold his in. “She’s cute right? Should we name her Carrot? She has a brother who we should name Pumpkin.”

“You’re naming the dogs after crops?” Kita raises an eyebrow and you nod eagerly. “It’s because of Rice’s name, isn’t it?”

“They’re Rice’s siblings, babe. It’s normal to name them after crops.” You explain, writing the name Carrot on the paper bag. He scoffs, his smile growing even wider. He leans his elbow on the counter, the side of his head on his palm. A strand of hair drapes on your face, so his free hand tucks it on the back of your hair. You eye from the side, his stare and action causing you to turn red.

“We should name the dog Tomato,” he suggests, obviously making fun of your blushing face. “To give tribute to your face right now.”

After baking the cookies and putting them in packages, the two of you head to Osamu’s store for takeout and give him your baked goodies. You then head to his grandmother’s house to pick Rice up.

“Oh, it really is not Ayako,” his grandmother, says and Kita stiffens. “I was wondering why she was acting like a stranger this morning. What’s your name dear?”

“(Y/N),” you say politely, suspicious of Kita’s sudden change in behavior.

“Are you my Shinsuke’s girlfriend?” She asks you and you look at Kita. This will determine your relationship.

“She’s a friend,” Kita answers, breaking your heart. And you thought you were something after that kiss and your date today. “We’re heading out now. I’ll visit you soon. Don’t forget about your checkups, okay?”

Your can’t even think of anything. Kita’s words are repeating in your head like a broken record.

‘She’s a friend.’

‘She’s only a friend.’

‘She’s only my friend.’

‘I’m a friend.’

‘I’m only friend.’

‘I’m only his friend.’

“(Y/N), let’s go,” Kita calls you, Rice already in his arms. You politely bow to his grandmother before following after him. You go back to your car, more quiet than usual. Rice is sleeping on your lap, probably tired from playing with Kita’s grandmother the whole morning. “You’re quiet. What’s wrong?”

“Do you really see me just a friend?” You finally ask, looking out of the window. He puts the gear on parking mode, and his hand goes reaches out to squeeze your cheeks before he makes you face him.

“I only said that because my grandmother watches your videos. If I say yes, she’ll most likely share it to her friends, the nurses and doctors at the hospital, and pretty much anyone she knows,” Kita explains, letting go of your cheeks.

‘You didn’t even answer my question.’ You give up from fighting any further, already tired from baking. You close your eyes and force yourself to sleep so you won’t think about his words. Sleeping the whole ride, you are shock too see that you’re already back to your house.

The three of you enter the house, and head straight to the dining room to eat. After eating, Kita hands you the frozen yogurt he made at the baking studio. “I made another one for you. It’s with your favorite fruits.”

You are still sulking from his words, but you are weak for his actions. You take a clean spoon and start munching on the frozen yogurt. He takes your burnt hand, so you stop eating. He puts your fingers near his lips and he kisses them. You choke on the yogurt, surprised by his move.

“I wanted to do that since a while ago but we were in public,” he tells you, then shifts his body closer to yours. He cups your cheeks and pulls your face close to his. “This, too.” He plants a short kiss on your lips then moves away from. “Get some sleep. You look tired.”

‘Actions speak louder than words, (Y/N). Actions speak louder than words.’

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

Facts:

It's important to mix your dry ingredients in the right order, because all of your ingredients are fighting for water.

The absence of sugar in a confection allows flour proteins to create gluten, which is why gluten-free foods contain high amounts of sugar.

Egg yolks contain something called lipids, a special kind of fat that adds color and flavor to cookies.

Cheesecakes date back to Roman times, when mild, milky cheeses got a jolt of sweetness from honey.

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Note: I was supposed to post this chapter 3 hours ago, but I fell asleep watching this ASMR baking video HAHAHAHAHA

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years

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FIC: Syverson the Protector Pt III

* Syverson The Protector - Part I (pairing Syverson x YOU)

* Syverson the Protector - Part II (pairing Syverson x YOU)

Summary: You are an embedded journalist and on a mission, everything goes wrong. He promised to protect you but can you save him?

Rating for this part: Budding romance, Fluff, wound related gore/blood (mild), war related violence. Must be read in order, no part can stand alone.

Word count: 3121

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

It was sauna-hot in that cramped filthy cab. Sweat beaded on your cheeks and upper lip and leaked down into the corners of your mouth. You lashed your tongue around your lips and immediately regretted it as the salty liquid tasted foul, like bile and petrol, and swallowing it wasn’t an option you were willing to take. You worked your water-starved tongue around inside your cheeks, only managing to gather a pitiful amount of saliva, which you spat out through the open window. Disgusted, you swiped your mouth, then your face with your sleeve, but no amount of wiping with equally dirty hands or clothes helped.

Suddenly the truck’s front tire crunched into a rocky pit and in an unfocused panic, you whipped the wheel, sending the truck skidding to one side. With teeth clenched, both feet punching down on the brakes and hands death gripping the hot leather, you struggled with the careening truck. Minutes ticked by as you wrestled it under control. Stopping the truck, you sat shaken and gulping for air, as kicked-up sand and dust plumed in through the window.

The potholes. The road was littered with them and no amount of defensive driving and steering wheel calisthenics could stop the pick-up truck from striking a deep hole. However, you knew that if you kept on driving as recklessly as you were, it was going to end badly and you couldn’t afford to wreck the truck.

‘Shit… focus. Keep it together,’ you muttered, panting and wiping your face again.

You laid swollen, blood crusted hands on the wheel, and slid an appraising glance at the man slumped bonelessly against the passenger door. He was a mess, eyes showing their whites, skin grey beneath the grime, and stewed cherry red blood had soaked through the scarf you’d used to help staunch the flow of the pulsing cavernous wound in his gut.

Shouldn’t have moved him, you thought morosely.

Shouldn’t have moved him!

Should have left him where he was!

If you had left him, he might not be unconscious in a truck, piloted by an unstable driver, where he could no longer apply pressure to his own inevitably fatal wound. He was going to bleed out in the cab of that little pickup because he was beyond your ineffectual ability to help him.

You reached out and pushed on the blood sodden scarf, desperate to keep the pressure on his wound, but you couldn’t do that and drive at the same time. Putting the truck in park, you climbed across the bench seat to get closer to where he lay sprawled limply against the door.

His breath was fast and shallow and high in his chest. His eyes flickered slightly, opened, then closed again and you stared down at him, your hope for him waking up, rapidly dissolving. An iron fist squeezed around your heart. He was giving up and you were going to lose him.

You knelt astride his thigh with the heavy wet scarf in your hands and knew you had no other alternative but to wring it out, which you did in the footwell of the passenger seat. You were revolted when the hot smell of it hit your nose so you held your breath, doubled the scarf again, and stuffed it beneath his shirt. You clipped his flack vest closed over it to accomplish the work that his hands should have been doing, though you weren’t sure how much pressure was being applied now. But, however much it was, it was better than nothing.

Trembling, you climbed back behind the wheel and wiped your sweaty face with your sleeve. Dizziness washed over you and your gorge rose threateningly in your throat. You had been so focused on tending to the Captain that you had been ignoring your own injuries.

'Not now,’ you begged, swallowing hard. 'Not now, please, let me get him to safety first.’

You jammed the truck back into gear and pressed down on the pedal. The engine stalled and tears of frustration and helplessness stung your dry eyes.

Please. Please. Just, please help me. Help me!

You jerked the gear shift out and then back into the sticky slot and with the engine screaming in agony and protest, the truck shuddered onward. You looked down at the dusty fuel gauge. The truck was nearly on empty and black thoughts of despair seeped into your consciousness. If you didn’t find any help before the truck died in the vast plains of nowhere, you would have to stay with Syverson and make him as comfortable as you could until he died. And then you’d have to brave the miserable road alone with no food, or water, and only his gun to ensure your survival. At least until the ammo ran out.

The bleak determination of your future instantly unnerved you and you increased the truck’s speed. There was a hill up ahead.

Was the truck was going to make it?

It struggled with the incline but managed to crest the top of the hill, and just as it did, you noticed something in the distance.

Behind a row of concertina wire wrapped wooden sawhorses, big trucks stretched across the road. Uniformed men with guns at the ready came to attention at the sight of your little battered pick-up truck. Highly aware of the weapons being pointed at you now, you slowly, carefully, drove up to the blockade. Nervousness quickened your pulse as a man, with one hand upraised, stepped out. He lazily waved you forward but his actions and body language communicated to you that you should proceed with caution.

You got a look at the man’s sandy brown and black splotched uniform.

Americans!

You stopped the truck and hastily jumped out, hands raised high in the air, yelling, 'Help! Help me, please. I have Captain Syverson with me and he’s wounded! Please help!’

The other men around the blockade suddenly came to attention and began to approach.

'Hold on there!’ shouted the man. 'Stop where you are. You have who now?’

The uniformed man tipped back his helmet a little and slightly lifted the muzzle of his AR-15 in silent warning. You froze to your spot and pointing to the truck you repeated your plea.

'Captain Syverson! We were… s-supply run. I– I’m.. we were… we were…’

You swayed on your feet as the edges of your vision blurred then closed in like an oily black wave. The ground rushed up to meet you when you collapsed and you dimly heard the jumbled voices of the men approaching you. And then, there was nothing.

***

Throbbing bursts of fuzzy-edged splotches pulsed red, yellow and black against the backs of your eyelids.

You could hear the drone of an engine and you opened your eyes.

You were back in that tightly cramped jeep again, listening to your heart thundering in your chest as you stared directly at the man across from you.

Syverson was saying something, shouting it even, but you heard nothing but the drone and the banging of blood gushing in your veins. You held your hands out to him, to grab onto him, but in a blinding flash of light, he was gone and the jeep exploded into bits around you.

You felt yourself burning, flesh searing, and crisping in the fire, and you opened your mouth to scream, only to be finally consumed and reduced to ashes.

Your brain startled awake from the smothering dream but instead of shooting upright to confirm that you were safe, your body only jerked sluggishly, still mired in your medicated pool of awareness.

The bitter scent of disinfectant prickled your nose and you wriggled it in an attempt to scratch the itch. Someone was speaking softly off to your left and you heard the squeak of plastic wheels rolling over a thin plastic floor.

You tried to clear your throat, but nothing but a dry scratching rasp escaped you. You flexed your toes first and then your fingers. They were tightly wrapped, stiff, and a little unresponsive. But they didn’t hurt, so that was either a good thing or a bad thing.

You continued your bodily inspection to make sure that all of your limbs were still intact. Fortunately, they were and you snaked your tongue out to explore your tender chapped lips.

I could really use a lip balm right now, you thought and a giggle that threatened to turn hysterical bubbled up in your throat. You fought it back.

Someone stood over you and a cool rough hand touched your bare arm on that tiny patch of sunburned flesh between where the sleeve of your hospital gown ended and the bandages began.

'You’re awake.’

You turned your head in the direction of the voice. It was a woman and although she sounded tired, her voice was low and gentle.

It took a moment for you to manage to get your tongue and throat to work.

'Oh… everything aches,’ you husked. 'Where am I?’

She recited some complicated name of the military hospital and you just nodded because you caught the word 'hospital’ and that was enough to satisfy you.

'How… how long have I been here?’

'About a week now.’

You finally cracked open your eyes and looked down at one arm and then the other one. They both were swaddled, the bride of Frankenstein-style, and lifting your left arm you felt a sharp tugging pain. Someone had placed an IV drip into the back of your hand and with your eyes, you followed the clear tubing back to the metal IV stand and then looked down at the web of coloured wires that tethered you to the bleating machine by the bed.

Your head started to hurt, so you relaxed again and closed your eyes.

'A week,’ you repeated quietly. 'Ok, that’s good.’

And then you remembered the horror of the desert. You remembered the blood and the pain and the man you’d tried to save.

Your eyes snapped open.

'Captain Syverson. Is he… is he all right?’

'Who?’ she asked, her eyes fixed to the machine.

'Syverson. I came in with him. I came in with an officer, right? Is he ok?’

The nurse picked up a tablet from her cart and typed something on the screen with her fingertip.

'Syverson,’ She said, reading from the screen. 'A Syverson is here, yes. He should still be recovering from surgery.’

'Is there only one here?’ you asked. 'Only one, Syverson?’

'Look like it,’ she answered, assuring you that the Syverson who was recovering from surgery was /your/ Syverson and not some random stranger with the same name.

You nodded and continued to nod as you put your bandaged right hand to your face. You nodded until you started to cry. And then you cried with great gulping sobs, turning your face into the thin pillow to catch your heavy, relieved tears.

'Did you not hear me?’ asked the nurse, sounding worried, misunderstanding the reason behind your tears. 'I said that he was ok. He’s out of surgery.’

'I heard you,’ you blubbered helplessly.

'You’re ok,’ the nurse said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 'He’s ok, you’re safe now.’

Yes, yes you thought. Safe.

You wiped your face with the tissue she gave you and sniffled noisily.

After a long moment, you spoke.

'Can I… can I see him?’

You looked up at her and saw her eyes sweep the length of your body.

'I don’t think you’re going to be in the position to walk for a little while.’

She glanced at the foot of your bed again and in response, you sluggishly wiggled your tender, swollen toes.

But you were insistent. You had been through so much and being able to lay eyes on him would go a long way to comfort you.

'Surely, there’s a wheelchair around here. Someone can …’

'When you’re both strong enough,’ she interrupted.

Another pat on your shoulder and she withdrew.

You stared after her. What could you do but accept it?

You curled down beneath the thin blanket and turned your head to the window across the room. There was another bed over there, but it was empty save for the neatly folded bed linens and pillows at its foot. You stared at the sharp creases in the white sheets and let your mind wander, remembering the first time the captain took your hand in his.

You were exhausted after a long plane trip and an even longer (and more uncomfortable) truck ride to the base camp.

The afternoon was sweltering and the scent of diesel from the still running heavy truck convoy that had transported you and your colleague to the camp lingered thick in the air. One of the soldiers had ushered you and your colleague to the one of the buildings where you were to wait to meet the man in charge. The only thing you really knew about ‘the man in charge’ was his name and rank, nothing else.

However, when you finally saw him, something within you came alive as you hadn’t seen a man of Captain Syverson’s calibre in quite a long time.

He was tall and broad and carried himself with an air of quiet confidence and menace. His thick beard and buzzed head did not diminish the impression of raw power, they only elevated it to the point where your heart picked up speed when he emerged from the shadows inside the building, descended the concrete stairs, and walked towards you.

His hand was hot and he had enough manners not to pulverise your hand in his grip. So many men thoughtlessly tried to exert their dominance over you through a painful, bone grinding handshake that you had taken to yelling out in pain whenever someone tried to rearrange your knuckles. You had been prepared to do it again when you slipped your hand into the captain’s grip. But his gentleness surprised you.

During the time you spent with him, he continued to surprise you with his husky Texan drawl, his extensive knowledge of every board game that had ever been invented, and his penchant for not using cup handles. No matter how hot the cup was, he would always grab it around the body and hold it with his palm as he drank his morning coffee.

Having already earned the respect of his team, he was a man who had nothing to prove. He had your respect as well, and, maybe a little more, for he was also a man who was easy love.

You drifted to sleep again with thoughts of Syverson’s strong arms around you and the sound of his voice whispering in your ear.

'I’ll protect you. I promise.’

Days drifted by and you recovered without incident. You ate and slept and read and mentally mapped out the article you were going to write once you regained the use of your hands. You planned to make a hero out of Syverson because he deserved that much. And you were going to memorialize your colleague for being the best journalist he could be while giving everything he could in the line of duty.

But that day, you were still weak and even sitting and thinking and staring at the window, sapped your energy. So you slipped down in bed and took a late afternoon nap.

When you woke and opened your eyes, what you saw made you gasp and struggle to push yourself upright. Over the bed loomed the happy face of a bear-shaped balloon that held a heart exclaiming, 'Get Well Soon!’

You whipped a look round the room. Every surface, even the previously empty bed across the room was practically covered with stuffed animals, vases of brightly coloured flower bouquets, and other little sundry items that were only found in the corners of hospital gift shoppes.

The sound of the food cart being wheeled into the room caught your attention. The attendee smiled and lifted off a covered tray and set it on the table next to your bed. He turned to leave and your nurse approached your bed.

'Did I.. sleepwalk into another room?’ you asked, feeling a little panicked. 'This ahh, wasn’t here when I went to sleep.’

With your bandaged hand, you made a jerky gesture to the gifts, and your nurse smiled a little like she knew something you didn’t.

'You have an admirer.’

Your eyes rose to her face and she held up a small white envelope that had an obvious bulge in the bottom.

'And this,’ she said handing it to you and when you cupped your swaddled hands, she dropped it into your palms.

You turned it over and the only writing was your name scrawled across the front. The envelope was sealed but with your hands all buttoned up the way they were you held the envelope back up to the nurse.

'Could you umm… please?’

The nurse opened the envelope and wriggled out the small piece of cardstock from inside. She gave it to you.

You read the note aloud, 'I owe you this, at least.’

The note was signed with an unfamiliar name.

'Henry.’

Then as if on cue, the nurse held the upended envelope, and when you lifted your cupped hand, she dumped the contents onto your palm.

It was a small tube of lip balm.

You looked exasperated at both the note and the lip balm and abruptly a memory clanged into place. You remembered the story behind the lip balm but the name, the name perplexed you.

'Henry?’ you asked the nurse and she frowned a little as a curious smile played around her lips.

'Henry,’ she said as if the answer should have obvious to you.

You stared at her, puzzled. When you didn’t say anything, she added, 'Syverson? Isn’t he your–’

'His name is Henry?!’ you exclaimed and put a hand to your forehead. 'Why can’t I… why don’t I remember that?’

'You’re still recovering from your trauma. Your memory will come back soon, don’t worry.’

The nurse wheeled the table that held your dinner within your reach. You put the envelope and the lip balm on the table. You nodded and when she turned to leave you, you picked up the note again.

'Um, Barb?’ you called.

The nurse turned and returned to the bedside.

'Can I send him a note?’

'Sure, that’s ok, I guess.’

You gave her his note and with a sheepish smile, you held up both your bandaged mitten hands.

'Help?’

She chuckled indulgently, took the note, and pulled a pen from her top pocket.

'Thanks,’ you grinned and after a moment of thought dictated, 'Dear Henry. Thank you for the gifts. I… love them. However, you also owe me some mints as well.’

You grinned to yourself.

'Could you um, put a little smiley face as well?’

The nurse nodded and when she was done, she turned the card around so that you could approve her handiwork.

'Mints?’ she asked, tucking the note and the pen back into her pocket.

'He’ll ummm,’ you giggled feeling a rise of happiness in your chest. 'Don’t worry, he’ll understand.’

Continued in Part IV.

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #syverson #captain syverson #syverson x you #syverson x reader #august walker #reader insert

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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years

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TA, dr and other abbreviations

Neil x Reader

summary: some time ago, Neil was a TA at your uni, now you meet up again when he needs your help with his next mission

+ song: Chase Atlantic - Friends

warnings: language, alcohol mention, things get steamy so let’s say 18+

author’s note: that request was fun! 👀 I’ve enjoyed the dynamic between those two, so I decided to try something different in terms of the writing style.

This is also the first one-shot not related to Stuck in Reverse series, can you believe?

Let me know what you think!

___

Your eyes dart towards your lab’s door, your brows raise at the sight of a familiar face. Your day just got a whole lot better.

“Good afternoon, I’m looking for doctor-...” a man at the door glances at you and he skips a beat, clearly trying to remember where does he know you from.

You don’t feel like helping him to figure it out though. To be fair, you’ve changed quite a lot over those last 10 years. You smile to yourself as you think about your younger self, always so anxious and flustered in Neil’s presence. If only she could see you now. She would appreciate the glow-up, that’s for sure.

God, you used to have the biggest crush on him. Not that he knew about it, of course. He was 8 years older than you, also he was a TA during your uni time. You talked sometimes, but that was all, you knew he was seeing someone back then; you settled down for daydreaming about his blue eyes and dying a bit inside whenever you saw him.

And now he’s here, still as hot and gorgeous as ever.

You put on your most polite expression, fighting the smug grin from appearing on your face.

“While I kinda enjoy seeing your puzzled face, I’m also quite busy, so I'm gonna give you a tip – your little TA gig a few years ago.”

Neil’s gaze flares up as he looks you up and down, still a bit confused, trying to match the image he remembers to your present look.

He blinks twice, composes himself, and proceeds with his request for your aid.

When he leans over your desk and shows you the mission’s brief on his tablet, you notice that he wears the same cologne as he used to all those years ago. Your heart flutters in your chest, but definitely not in that old, nervous way. You chew on your bottom lip, trying to stay focused on Neil’s words. You must admit, the sudden change in dynamic is thrilling. As you help him go through some of the details regarding his next assignment, you wonder if you’re gonna see him more frequently from now on.

You certainly wouldn’t mind.

This time, the Universe smiles upon you.

Neil pops into your lab more and more often.

At first, it’s all related to work.

After some time, you begin to wonder if he doesn’t look for just any excuse to come over. You don’t care though, you really enjoy his company.

And it seems like Neil’s grown quite fond of you himself.

Now that he’s finally wrapped his mind around the new you, his blue eyes always light up in your presence. You don’t even realize the exact moment when his usual charming demeanor becomes straight up flirtatious.

But when you notice that change, oh my, the game is on.

Well, he still keeps it all professional, of course.

It’s the little things. That slight change of posture. The accidental brush of his fingers on your hand when he passes you things. Or that light touch on your shoulder when you both lean over the desk and go through some papers needed for his missions.

The intense stare right into your eyes, with a corner of his lips twitched in a half-smile.

But you can give as good as you get.

The way you tilt your head and expose your neck when he’s standing close. Taking that little extra step in his direction when you talk, stopping at the verge of his personal space as you watch him hold his breath for a second. A bit of playful teasing, sometimes involving light tugs at his tie.

And that last thing always ends up with Neil almost forgetting the tongue in his mouth. Almost.

...Sometimes you ask yourself if you’re not having too much fun when he’s around. You’re at work, after all.

It’s one of those evenings. You should’ve gone home a long time ago, instead, you’re hanging out with Neil, talking about everything and nothing in particular.

Your phone beeps. You read a short message and you muse over it for a moment. You know that your companion is gonna leave soon, late-night mission or whatever; the suggestion to blow off steam you’ve received sounds like just what you need.

You meet Neil’s curious look and you realize you’ve let a sly grin appear on your face.

You shrug.

“A booty call,” you say in the most casual tone.

A hint of satisfaction flashes in your eyes when you watch Neil’s very conflicted expression. You bite your lip to stifle a giggle. He’s adorable.

He crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth curl.

“Does that happen often?”

“Oh darling, a lady never kisses and tells. Why, do you want in on the list?” you tease, narrowing your eyes.

His eyebrow quirks. “There is a list, huh?”

“Is that a yes?” you grin, mimicking his raised brow.

He walks up to your desk and slowly reaches past you for his jacket, hung on the back of your seat.

And as his face gets right next to your ear-...

“Maybe.”

When he pulls back and you see his blue eyes, how dark they are, it takes all your self-control to keep a straight face. But the question escapes your mouth anyway.

“See you later this week?”

You mentally kick yourself for this moment of weakness.

“Hm,” he gives you a peculiar smile on his way out.

Well, that wasn't exactly a yes.

At the door, he shoots you a quick look over his shoulder.

“Have fun.”

...does he seem a little pissed-off to you?

And you have fun that night, all right.

Even though all you can think about are those blue eyes and dirty blonde hair.

Then, Neil doesn’t show up for the next couple of days.

For a moment, you get tempted to check on him at the HQ, but you scoff at yourself. He’s a big boy, he can handle himself.

When he finally walks into your lab, something feels different.

You can’t put your finger on it.

In the beginning, he’s just so official and it irks you. But you look into his eyes and… it almost seems like he’s taunting you. And it makes your heart increase its pace.

Oh, you see how it is.

On top of it all, he’s so annoying today.

He sits on the chair, loosening his tie, his legs spread, his gaze locked on you.

After yet another snarky comment, you grit your teeth, trying to focus on the documents in front of you.

“Neil, if you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

And he does. He does, leaning back on the chair with a smug smile.

So... now what?

You scoff and close in on him.

“Why are you like this?” you utter, reaching for his tie.

The innocent look in his eyes.

“Like what?”

You give his tie a tug.

“Rude.”

And then that bastard runs the tongue over his lower lip and smirks.

Next thing you know, you straddle him on the chair, burying your fingers in his hair as his mouth crushes on yours. Neil wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. The urgency of the kiss takes your breath away. You rock your hips and you brush against the bulk in his trousers, and oh god, it feels so good. Your head arches back. Neil’s breath and his lips on your neck drive you wild. You need him, right here, right now. You cling on to him for your dear life as you move your hips again and a sharp moan escapes his mouth.

The abrupt knock on your door makes you both jump at your feet, trying to level your breaths.

“Mate, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why the fuck are you not answering your phone, eh?”

As Ives enters the room, his eyes dart between the two of you, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“Ah shit, I hope I am not interrupting?”

You roll your eyes as Neil simply glares at him.

The moment is gone, and so are they, leaving for yet another emergency operation.

A few days later, your friends take you out for drinks, and you definitely have one too many.

…Or a few too many.

You end up standing at Neil’s apartment door, pressing the doorbell excessively long.

He opens up, looking you up and down with an amused smile.

You poke him in the chest.

“Consider yourself booty-called.”

You giggle as you watch his eyes widen.

Neil clenches his jaw and takes a step back.

“Jesus... Come in?”

He takes your coat and you make your way inside.

You are way past caring about small talks and whatnot. You pull on his shirt, trying to guide him towards that rather comfy looking couch.

One more step.

You want to kiss him, but Neil puts a finger on your mouth and shakes his head.

“What? I thought you wanted in on the list?” you ask as you sit down on the couch, your brows furrowed.

“Not like this.”

Wow, now your pride is hurt a little.

“Fine, I’m going home then,” you pout and try to get up quickly.

You underestimate the amount of alcohol in your system though, so you yelp and fall back.

“You’re not going anywhere in this state,” he scoffs.

Why is he the way that he is?

“I’ll get you some coffee, make yourself comfortable.”

And so you do. You toss your shoes away and rest your head on one of the pillows.

You close your eyes just for a second.

You open them up again when Neil covers you with a blanket.

To be honest, you’re way too tired and cozy to argue.

When you notice the soft look in his blue eyes, your heart melts in your chest.

And because all your filters are off at this point, you say, “I really like you, you know?”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Tell me that when you’re sober.”

The next morning… well, let’s just say that you wish the sun was shining a bit more quietly.

Neil glances at you from the kitchen.

“Morning.”

You don’t know what hits you first – the pounding headache or the nauseating dread at the thought of what’s happened last night.

“Fuck me,” you groan, hiding your face in your palms.

And what do you hear in response?

“With pleasure. But how about we eat breakfast first?”

#neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #robert pattinson #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet #tenet fanfic

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mosylufanfic · 3 years

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The Game’s Afoot

Merry Christmas, @halflingmerry! I was your Secret Santa! You asked for a modern James Bond/Lara Croft AU, and I hope this delivers.

The Game's Afoot

Report: Target arrived in town. She has been supplying herself for an excursion, indicating a local temple she wishes to investigate. The consensus is that she's just another bored, rich tourist who will probably die in the jungle.

Reply: Proceed as you see fit.

Jyn hired a guide in Merida. Tenoch spoke very little English, but Jyn's map and pesos communicated for her very well. He gave her a skeptical look when he saw the destination, but she added more pesos to the pile and he shrugged.

They made good time the first day. She checked her GPS after they made camp for the night and did some calculations. If they kept this up, they were about two days out from the temple, which was what she'd planned for.

The satellite signal on her phone was a little shaky this far into the jungle but she could still get a video feed of her foster brother, Bodhi. "Oh good," he said when he saw her face. "You haven't been eaten by a jaguar."

"The night is young," she said.

"You've got a good guide?"

She glanced at Tenoch, squatted down over the fire, stirring something in a little tin pot. "Seems to be. We're not doing a lot of talking. You know how crap my Spanish is."

Bodhi started to say something, then paused and changed it to, "As long as he stops you getting crushed to death by a - " He looked off into the distance. "Wait, what's that snake? The one that wraps around your throat and squeezes you to death?"

She rolled her eyes. "There are no boa constrictors in the Yucatan. I'm more concerned about falling down a cenote."

"What're those then?"

"Bloody great sinkhole with a lot of water in the bottom. If the fall doesn't kill you, the drowning will."

"Are you sure you're going to make it to that temple alive?"

"Probably not," she said cheerfully. "You'll inherit my millions."

"I'll be very sad about that," he promised solemnly. "I promise to wipe my eyes with thousand-pound notes at your memorial service."

"I only get a memorial service? Wanker."

"Yes, because your body is somewhere in the jungle, swollen to twice its size after being bitten by some hideously poisonous bug."

"Venomous," she corrected. "Poisonous is when you eat it." She thought. "Or touch it."

"Right," he said. "I stand corrected. I'm glad you called, anyway, and not just because it's proof of life. Saw Gerrera's been in touch."

She let out a heartfelt groan. "Come on, Bodes, none of that business stuff. It's so deadly dull."

Bodhi, who'd been neck and neck with her all throughout their MBA program, looked taken aback. She cut her eyes to his left, where his tall, dour new assistant was sorting out the day's mail.

He adjusted and sniffed, "Well, sor-ry, but it's your money, and you should know what's going on with it."

"No," she retorted, studying her nails, "your job is to know what's going on with it, Mister CEO. I'm the owner. I just have to sign the checks."

"And go gadding about the world."

"That too."

"As long as you're back for the founder's ball."

She sobered. "In twenty years, have I ever missed my mother's birthday?"

"No," he said, voice equally gentle. "Not even once."

They chatted a little more, Bodhi sharing some misadventure his youngest sister had got into over the weekend and Jyn telling him about her flight from London to Merida.

Just as Bodhi was asking her about her preparations for the excursion, his new assistant hove into view like an iceberg looming over the Titanic. "Mr. Rook," he said. "You have a meeting with the VP of finance in exactly seven and one-half minutes."

"Thank you, Kay," Bodhi said, giving Jyn a look through the video feed.

"I would end your call with Ms. Erso as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Kay," Bodhi said again. "Do you have the reports we'll be going over?"

"They are on your tablet."

"I'd like paper copies, please."

Somehow managing to impart that Bodhi was the most ridiculous and unreasonable boss in the world without changing his expression, Kay stalked away.

Jyn snickered. "Go on to your important and scintillating meeting," she said. "Me, I'm going to shovel down some rations and sleep like a log."

"Pace too rough for you?" he teased.

She flipped him off. "Jet lag, if you must know." She rolled her shoulders. "Love to your mum and the girls."

"Stay safe," Bodhi said, and signed off.

She shut her satphone down and leaned against a tree, thinking hard.

Bodhi's old assistant, Tivik, had left suddenly for a new job, and Kay had turned up as if by magic. They were neither of them stupid, and they knew Kyber Limited had its fair share of business rivals. Corporate espionage was to be expected. But she'd always felt it best to keep your enemies where you could see them.

Her satphone slipped from her hand and she made a grab for it.

There was a high-pitched whistle and a reverberating thud.

Jyn's head jerked up. Her guide was a dark shape looming over her, both hands gripping a machete handle. The machete itself was stuck fast in the tree that she'd been standing under.

If she hadn't ducked her head to grab for the satphone, the blade would have gone through her neck.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared up into his shadowed face. Only a faint glint showed her where his eyes were. She had a knife in her boot and the machete was stuck fast. Could she reach her weapon before he could retrieve his?

A thump and a rustle by her feet caught her attention.

Half a snake flopped over the ground, still writhing, the mouth gaping open and fangs glittering evilly in the dusk. Instinctively, she kicked it hard with the steel toe of her boot, and the body soared into the campfire.

Tenoch watched it disappear into the flames with sizzling, popping noises, and then said, "Una vibora."

Viper.

She swallowed hard. "Si. Yo se." She nodded stiffly. "Gracias."

"De nada."

He wrenched his machete from the tree trunk, and the other half of the snake crashed to the ground. Put together with the front half, Jyn guessed it had been two feet long at least, and she swallowed bile.

Seemingly unaffected, he used the bloody machete to flick the second half of the snake into the darkness. "La comida está lista," he said, jerking his head toward the fire and the little tin pot he'd been stirring.

Thank god he'd covered it.

She followed him back to the campfire with shaky legs, cursing at herself. She'd been so deep in thought she hadn't stayed aware of her surroundings.

She of all people should know that the jungle would kill you to death given half a chance. It was what had happened to her mother.

She and Bodhi might joke about it, but Lyra Erso had gone into this jungle and hadn't come out. Jyn was well aware she might not find a trace of her mother at the temple that had been her last, failed expedition, but she'd been planning this trip for years, and she wasn't about to let a snake or a bug or a jaguar or a cenote or even a taciturn guide stop her.

They agreed that he would take the first watch, and Tenoch settled himself cross-legged, with his back to the fire to preserve his night vision. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jyn Erso crawling into the tent.

He listened to the rustling and shuffling sounds of her getting ready for bed. The zip of the sleeping bag, the further shuffling of her getting comfortable and settled. He waited half an hour more, eyes tracking the jungle for animal or human intruders, ears cocked to the noises from the tent, patient as the grave.

Then he rose soundlessly and made his way to the tent. He eased the zipper open silently, eyes and ears both attuned to the slow-breathing form in the sleeping bag.

She lay curled on her side, one hand knotted up under her cheek like a child. The traces of light from the campfire behind him outlined her face. The line of her chin remained stubborn even in sleep, and her chapped Cupids-bow lips were ever-so-slightly parted . . .

He shook himself. He was here to do a job, not moon over a pampered English heiress.

Although for a pampered English heiress, she'd done very well on the trail today.

Her pack was settled at her feet, right at the opening of the tent. He closed his hand around any buckles and metal pieces that would jingle and lifted it out of its place, letting the tent flap fall closed behind him.

He checked the outside pockets first. First aid kit, extra foldable canteen, iodine tablets, sunblock, insect repellent . . . All manner of small necessary items, but no top-of-the-line satphone.

He moved to the central compartments, pulling each item out and mentally noting the way it had been packed so he could replace it exactly the same way. Rice, dried meat, beans, carefully and thoroughly wrapped in plastic. Extra clothing. Soap, again wrapped in plastic. Rain gear. Toiletries, in more plastic.

No satphone.

His own, with its mirroring app pulled up and ready to do its job, waited in its pocket against his thigh.

She'd kept hers on her all day, gripped in her hand or locked into its case on her belt. He'd attempted to mirror it this morning as they set out, jostling up next to her on the trail, but the security on it was rather better than most. He needed more than mere proximity; he had to get his hands on it, possibly unlock it, in order for his own to do its job.

Did she keep it on her body even as she slept? When did she charge it? The things sucked down power like a drunk swallowing rum.

Their trip would take at least a week more - two to the temple, one or two to explore, and three more back to Merida. He would surely have a chance to hack into it.

But the longer he took, the more information his superiors could miss.

Frowning to himself, he re-packed everything scrupulously back in its place and fastened it tightly closed. He lifted it off the ground and turned to go put it back in the tent -

And found the supposedly fast-asleep woman standing behind him, her heavy walking stick ready to swing at his head. In a deadly pleasant voice, she asked in perfect Spanish, "Find anything interesting?"

He went still, staring up at her, calculating which of several stories he could use.

“Don’t waste either of our time playing innocent,” she said. She switched to English. “And don’t pretend you don’t understand me, either. I know you were listening in on my call."

Some of the possible stories were discarded.

“Do you blame me?” he said. He layered his English with extra helpings of his accent. “I could sell this pack and all its contents for many pesos.”

“And what would you have done with me?” she asked silkily.

“You have experience, hiking the jungle. You might have made it back.” He shrugged, as if to say it was in the hands of a higher power. “Then again, you might not.”

She gave a little huff of amusement. “I might buy that if you hadn’t had a brilliant opportunity to let me die of snakebite earlier this evening.”

He wanted to scowl. He did not.

"You're not just some con man out to make quick money. Not the way you ignored all my easily pocketed supplies and tools. You were looking for my satphone. You've been pointedly ignoring it all day, after you tried to mirror it this morning."

He felt the scowl almost emerge, in his forehead and the corners of his mouth, and purposely blanked his face. He was usually much better than this at controlling his expression.

Her mouth quirked up smugly. "Who do you work for? Alderaan Corp? Mos Eisley and Company?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Not the Hutt brothers?"

Calculations churned.

It was a common misconception that spies always lied. Sometimes, if it would get them what they wanted, they told the truth.

He let the pack fall and rose to his feet, not missing the way she resettled her grip and her stance in response. "Interpol,” he said.

"Interpol," she said with deep and withering skepticism.

He shrugged. Believe it or don't, the shrug said.

She eyed him. "And what does Interpol want with Kyber Limited?"

"Perhaps Interpol wants you."

She snorted. "It comes to the same thing."

Damn. He should have known better than to believe her loudly proclaimed disinterest in business. Not after she'd done an MBA at Cambridge. But the woman flitted around the world while Rook stayed in London at the Kyber Limited offices.

He tested her out. ""What do you know about Imperial Industries?"

She shrugged. “Weapons manufacturers. We don’t have much to do with them.”

“An energy company could have a lot to do with a weapons manufacturer.”

“Yes, well, the company my mother started doesn’t.”

“And your father works for Imperial.”

She snorted. “This is about Galen Erso? You’re barking up the wrong tree, Interpol. I haven't spoken to him since he left for California, the day after my mother's funeral."

"That's a very long time to ignore your only child."

"I didn't say he hadn't tried. I haven't responded. Kyber Limited does very well without Galen Erso." She frowned at him. "What's he done?"

"Interpol has reason to believe Imperial Industries is building a device that contravenes international standards."

"Those naughty boys," she said.

"And by international standards, I mean the Geneva Convention."

"A super-weapon, " she said. "How delightful. I'm sure we'll all sleep cozy in our beds, knowing the Americans have that."

"It may not be the Americans. Not if they're not the highest bidder."

A moment. Then - "Ah." Her thumb rubbed over a knot in the wood, the only betrayal of restlessness. "And my father's building that, is he?"

"His research has applications."

"Well, as I said, Interpol - "

"Andor," he said.

"What?"

"My name is Cassian Andor."

She could run his name and get proof that he was who he said he was, and he had no doubt she would at the first opportunity.

"Cassian," she said, and his eyes narrowed. "As I said, I'm not in touch with my father, and I don't intend to change that." She narrowed her eyes back at him. "I think if I did, he might get suspicious."

Cassian thought otherwise, but he kept it to himself.

"So," she finished. "You can traipse off back to your superiors if you like. Let them know I'm a dead end."

"You hired me to guide you to the temple," he said. "I prefer to finish a job I've started."

"Do you even know the way?"

"I grew up in Merida," he said.

"Merida's the state capitol. Lots of people grew up there. That's not an answer."

"I know the way," he said. "And I have my own reasons for wanting to check it out."

"Do you now? Because as far as I know, my father's never been here."

"No," Cassian said. "But his boss has."

"His boss," Jyn echoed.

"Orson Krennic," Cassian said. "In fact, he went at the same time as your mother's last expedition."

Her face went to stone. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying nothing," he said. "I'd merely like to do some checking of my own at that location. See what there is to see."

Her thumb rubbed over the knot on her walking stick again.

Cassian tested the waters. "Or we could go back to Merida. You could hire some other guide."

"No," she said, and cleared her throat. "No," she said. "We're already a third of the way there and I don't feel like wasting the trip. As you say, we've both got reasons to go."

"True enough," he said. "And perhaps we could help each other."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Interpol." She scooped up her pack. "Just you keep your mitts off my satphone, and I'll do the same for you."

Once back in her tent, Jyn slid her satphone from her pocket and texted Bodhi. You were right, he's Interpol. Counter-terrorism. Apparently, Imperial is being very bad indeed. What’s Kay after?

Bodhi texted back right away. Either his meeting was done or it was a crashing bore. So far he’s been digging through most of R&D. Nice to know he’s not going to sell the false leads I’ve provided. Have you got your fellow hooked?

Oh, yes. He even brought up Krennic himself. Now let's see where our two fish lead us.

Back by the fire, Cassian sent a text of his own. I dangled Orson Krennic in front of her and whetted her appetite. Continue to monitor her communications with Rook. If her father reaches out again, she'll tell him. Galen Erso is the weak spot, and his daughter is our way in.

FINIS

#Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptainsecretsanta #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #fanfiction #halflingmerry #Spy AU #star wars

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dasphinxone · 4 years

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Book of Nile: Cabin Fever WIP

Like, I need to SIT DOWN AND WRITE THIS OUT INSTEAD OF DOING SNIPPETS THO. I’m sorry y’all, I swear I’m writing a full fic of this. Please don’t kill me.

Booker wanders over and starts organizing the ingredients by type on the dark, marble top counter of the kitchen island. Spices are put together, other dry ingredients lined up. He takes out the carton of eggs from the fridge.

“How many eggs do you need?” he looks to Nile next to him.

“Just one,” comes her muffled voice from where she’s leaning over to take full stock of the lower shelves of the pantry.

He diverts his eyes from the sight of her lean legs and her behind clad in short sleeping shorts. Her braids are piled into a cute, messy bun on top of her head. She already has on one of the aprons she found hanging on a hook in the broom closet. How one of his heavily knit, grey cardigans hangs billowy off of her frame over her shorts and tank top sends his heart beating faster.

She’s always borrowing his clothes. Usually it’s his array of denim shirts or old t-shirts that she cuts down at the bottom to fit her. Yet something about seeing her using his sweater as a robe while baking for him? It screams domesticity.

Booker startles at the feel of Nile’s touch to his arm. “I’m thinking a gingerbread cake? Or cupcakes, if we have a muffin tin,” she frowns in contemplation. “Christmas is just around the corner and gingerbread cookies are so blasé, you know?”

His face lights up. “I think I can legitimately say that I have never had gingerbread in cake form.”

“You are definitely in for a treat!” she playfully taps him on the shoulder with a spatula she’s dug up. “It’ll go faster since Copley hooked this place up with the KitchenMade stand mixer to boot. Though you’re going to have to make a hard decision for me, Book.”

He can’t ever seem to say no to her. Not especially with that beautiful smile lighting up her face. For fuck’s sake, she’s wearing his sweater like she owns it.

He rapidly blinks away any fantasies of how incredible she would look wearing just the sweater by itself. The way it would cling to her curve. Teasing him with barely contained views of her beautifully dark, warm skin. Skin that would glisten with sweat after he’s fucked her up against the wall next to the fridge. Her legs wrapped around his waist and heels digging into his ass while she mercilessly tugs at his hair and calls out his real name. All after he’s balanced her on his shoulders while he’s on his knees, devouring her pussy like he’s on a mission to make her scream and forget anyone else who’s come before him…

Stop it, you fucking pervert! he scolds himself in his native language.

He rapidly drags a bar stool from the counter to the kitchen island and settles in. Mostly so that she can’t see that he’s already half hard. His black sweatpants don’t hide much.

“What would you have of me, mademoiselle?” he bows his head with a flourish of his hand. When he looks back up, she’s beaming even more.

“Soooo, do you mind having your bagels dry or just with butter in the morning versus with cream cheese?” she holds up two packets of it.

Booker purposely curls his mouth in contemplation. “What do I have to gain from the absence of it on said bagel?”

“Cream cheese frosting for the cupcakes?” she pulls a muffin tin from the cabinet of the island and waves it at him.

Booker arches a brow and leans an elbow on the counter to rest his head in his hand. “Well,” he drawls out, “If you insist on spoiling me with cupcakes ma cher,” he sighs with supposed annoyance, “I guess I shall have to acquiesce. You may proceed,” he waves in dismissal.

Of course, Nile sees how he’s barely holding in a laugh. “Frosting it is!” she declares. Leaning over the island, she brushes her lips to his stubbled cheek while patting his other one with her free hand. “I knew there was a reason why I love you.”

Booker freezes at her declaration as Nile spins back around to the opposite counter to start. She’s greasing the muffin tin, putting the paper cups into them, spraying those with cooking spray and beginning to hum to herself as she usually does when doing this sort of thing. She appears thoroughly unaffected by what she’s just said. Shimmying her shoulders, she asks if he can fire up one of her playlists from the cloud on his laptop. He’s always had access to her music account, so the request isn’t out of the ordinary.

He's glad he has the excuse to exit the area and go grab his laptop from the den. He’s in need of doing a few deep breathing exercises his various therapists over the years have taught him to do whenever he gets overwhelmed. Except it’s always for the bad sort of overwhelmed. Not a “Oh my fucking God, this woman has just declared she loves me…except I don’t think she meant it in that sort of context? MERDE, I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.”

Either way, Booker all but flees the kitchen.

Nile is glad of it. Because FUCK, she just said she loves him. And yeah, she meant it in a “After all of these decades of having your fine ass so devoted to me and watching my six at all times and sharing beds with you since we're the spares and you willingly helping me do my braids and twists installations for hours on end without being all white boy weird about it? I think I could love you for the near eternity we have together. Plus, I think you’re pretty damn capable of fucking ruining me in bed with your, uh, fucking.”

Nile plants her hands on the countertop and drops her head between her shoulders. Her heart is beating fast in her ears and her skin’s tingling. It’s not fear adrenaline coursing through her. Yet it’s also not quite the effervescent sort of high either. It’s all topsy-turvy, confusing feelings that she doesn’t like. Not because she’s afraid of emotions. More that she can’t sort them out at the damn moment. Combined with the fact that it’s just the two of them in this dream of a cabin? For these next few days to up to weeks, depending on the blizzard? That will be…interesting?

Or a fucking disaster where we end up hating each other but are stuck in the same rooms with no escape, she muses to herself.

She’s frozen to death a handful of times. It’s not a bad way to go; after the numbness sets in and you can’t feel your limbs, you just sort of drift off only to wake from death. However, literally catching one’s death of cold in the middle of a snowy storm in the forest would suck due to the lack of relief from dying over and over again. Sure, she could technically leave if things went horribly between them. Yet that would be a stupid as shit decision.

“Are you alright?”

Nile spins around to find Booker once again sitting on one of the barstools up against the opposite counter. Only now does she notice the music playing over the Bluetooth speakers of the small holo-TV mounted on a wall of the kitchen. It’s her favorite playlist, R&B from the 2010s when she grew up. No matter that the music is nearly 200 years old now, it wraps her in a warm aural blanket of comfort. Meanwhile, Booker looks non-plussed and focused on the screen of his laptop before he looks up at her. His azure eyes full of concern, he scans around the kitchen.

“You sound like you’re having trouble with something.”

She swiftly plasters a wide smile on her face and stabs a finger down at the screen of her holotablet. “There’s a lot of steps of this recipe-”

“I’ll help,” he cuts her off while scrambling up from his chair, “Anything you need, you want, I can, I mean I will do it.”

I’d like for you to eat me out on your knees and fuck me up against one of these counters.

Nile swallows, trying to rid herself of the filthy thought. The thing is, he’s wearing this light blue Henley that’s so tight across his chest that it doesn’t look like he could close up the buttons of it even if he wanted to. There’s a teasing peek of dark blonde chest hair at the low V of the shirt’s neckline she’s struggling to not stare at. On top of that, he’s had the nerve to shove up the sleeves to reveal his forearms.

Instead, Nile closes her eyes and takes a few deep breathes. She hopes it comes off as annoyed with the recipe versus reigning in her self-control to not just jump him and climb him like a tree.

“The recipe calls for making gingerbread men to use to decorate the cupcakes with, though it’s not necessary,” she breathes out. “Did you want to go the hard or easy route for this recipe?”

Booker grins, eyes meeting hers. “À la dure,” he drawls.

“The hard way?” Nile translates, hoping her breath doesn’t hitch. Is he doing some sort of double-entendre thing just to fuck with her?

He shrugs. “It’s not as though we don’t have the time.” Moving around the counter to saunter up to her side, he looks down at her holotablet. “You far outdo me when it comes to baking, but I think I can manage cookies.” He opens a new tab and searches for a gingerbread cookie recipe. Finding one, he quickly reads over it. “So long as you can ice them?” he holds up the tablet for her to take in the cute picture.

Nile slightly steps away from him. Mostly on account that he smells so good (fresh soap…is that a hint of his usual spicy, citrusy cologne?) and feels so warm with one of his arms flush to hers. “We don’t have cookie cutters here, but you can bake them round and we can ice faces or ornaments on them.”

“It’s a deal,” he holds out a hand to shake hers.

Looks like their project for this afternoon is set.

#book of nile #booker x nile #nile freeman #sebastien le livre #Booker #booker le livre #the old guard #tog #nile x booker #people being cute while baking is a thing for me apparently

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polaroid15 · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump day 27 - “I wish I had never given you a chance”

My first fic with Morgan!!! I LOVE HER ahhh. Hope you enjoy this one- the second last :'( <3 And thank you- sincerely, for everything.

Summary: During a relaxing weekend at the cabin, Peter offers to help Tony with some chores. When things go awry (as they often do), they learn that under no circumstance should Peter ever pursue a career in carpentry.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/73158711

------

Peter enters the room with a yawn, throwing his arms back in a wide stretch. As if knowing it’ll catch him off guard Morgan launches herself at him, wrapping her tiny arms around his middle. His breath gusts out of his lungs in surprise but he recovers quickly, smiling and reaching down to ruffle her hair. “Well good morning to you too.”

“Peter!” Morgan lets go of the hug and proceeds to dance around him. “Let’s play!”

Tony smirks from his position on the couch, a tablet balanced on his knee. Him and Peter share a knowing look before Peter nods enthusiastically and is dragged off.

Later, they race back into the room, Morgan curled around Peter in a piggy back ride. He deposits her on the couch and she giggles, rolling onto her side and latching onto Tony.

“Looks like you two are having fun,” he observes.

“Yes!” Morgan says, breathless from their game. “Lots of fun.”

“Lots and lots of fun,” Peter repeats, giving Morgan a wink while she laughs. He turns to Tony. “What’re you working on?”

“Trying to find someone to fix our roof, actually.”

Peter draws his eyebrows together. “What’s wrong with your roof?”

“The wind storm last week took off a bunch of the shingles. It’s not really a big deal but Pepper keeps pushing for me to call someone. Something about not wanting a leak when it rains, yadda yadda.”

“Mom knows best,” Morgan cuts in.

Peter laughs in agreement. “Well I can fix it for you,” he says.

Tony raises his eyebrows behind his glasses before taking them off all together. “You’re telling me that you know how to put shingles back on a roof?”

The boy shrugs, his sheepish grin widening. “How hard can it be? Do you still have the shingles that blew off?”

“Yes.”

“Great! So all I need is a- a,” Peter grapples for the word, pulling his finger on an imaginary trigger in the air, “you know.”

“A nail gun?”

“Yeah! One of those.”

Tony considers it. It would be a hassle to have someone drive all the way out to the cabin to fix it, and he’s not getting any younger himself. “Are you sure? It’s almost a hundred degrees outside.”

“So?” Peter challenges, shrugging. “I’ve done worse in spandex.”

“That’s...true.”

“So do we have a deal?” Peter asks, thrusting out his hand as if it’s a formal agreement.

Rolling his eyes, Tony humours him. “Fine. I’ll go get the nail gun.”

----

The sun is blazing down on them when they make it outside and Tony uses his hand as a shield to watch Peter scale the side of the house with the last load of shingles. Advantages of super sticky powers: no ladders necessary. “Remember what I told you about nail gun safety!” he calls up after him.

“Stop being a worry wart!” Peter yells back.

Fair enough.

Tony steps back inside the house, relishing in the air conditioning and wiping his forehead on his sleeve. He doesn’t make it two steps before Morgan latches onto him, her small fingers covering his. “Play with me?” she asks.

Truthfully he has a mountain of work to do. But he’s never been one to be able to resist either of his kids requests, especially when they used their puppy dog eyes. It’s his greatest weakness and they know it. “Alright,” he concedes, “but only for a few minutes okay?”

“Deal!”

----

A few minutes turns into a few hours. Tony doesn’t realize until his watch beeps at him, pulling him out of a memorizing episode of Paw Patrol while they scribble with crayons in a princess coloring book.

“Holy- it’s almost two!”

Morgan doesn’t seem to care and continues drawing. “So?”

His mind is working too frantically to explain so he just stands, setting his coloring supplies off to the side. “Stay here, okay? Dad’s just gonna check on Peter.”

“Okay,” Morgan replies happily, picking up a blue crayon.

Heart in his throat, Tony practically runs to the back door. He skips the three steps to the grass and glares up at the roof. If possible, it feels even hotter out, and the nagging worry in his stomach triples. “Peter!” he calls up. “Peter? Are you still up there?”

There’s a long, sinking silence. Tony is two seconds away from grabbing his suit to blast up there himself before Peter’s head pokes out over the edge.

“Oh no Pete-”

“Mr. Stark!” the boy slurs, giving a sluggish wave from his perch. His face is beet red, his eyes unfocused. “Almost- almost done.”

Tony does everything within his power to stay calm. “No! Nope. You’re done, kiddo. You hear me? Time to go inside.”

“Wha- what? There’s only a- a couple more.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony argues, “you can barely string together sentences. Come down!”

Peter considers it as his eyes grow foggier. “Down?” he asks.

“Yes! Come down! You’re overheating up there!”

“Down,” Peter confirms.

Then he does something really stupid.

By the time Tony realizes where Peter’s boiling mind is taking him the kid has already rolled himself over the lip of the roof. He’s much too far to do anything but watch in horror as Peter plummets through the air and hits the grass with a loud oof.

“Peter Benjamin Parker!” Tony sprints towards the fallen boy, expecting blood and broken bones but instead hears laughing. He falls to the ground, the grass staining his knees and grabs Peter’s head with both hands. His skin is hot and sweaty to the touch. Too hot. Peter blinks up at him lazily, continuing to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Tony demands breathlessly.

Peter raises his finger, pointing up towards the sun. “I just- I just fell off the roof.”

“Oh lordy. You’re out of your mind.”

“I fell,” Peter repeats, then wheezes like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“We gotta get you cooled down pronto.”

“I’m- I’m already cool.”

“You’re killing me here, kid. Not that kind of cool.”

Peter allows himself to be hoisted to his feet and sways dramatically once he’s there. His laughing tapers off as his face turns green and he clutches tightly onto Tony’s sleeve.

“Kid?” he prompts hesitantly. “You okay?”

The answer must be no, because Peter lunges away from him and spews out his last meal. Tony moans, rubs the kid’s back, and helps steady him when he finishes. “You done?”

Slowly, Peter nods.

“Alright kiddie. Let’s go run you a bath. How does that sound? Bring down that temperature of yours.”

“Mmm. Nice.”

Tony hoists Peter into his side and by some miracle manages to maneuver him into the house. Morgan doesn’t look up when they enter and Tony sends a silent prayer of thanks to the universe. They stumble to the bathroom and Tony sets Peter down on the toilet, only moving on to turn on the tub when he’s sure Peter won’t topple over.

“Feel weird,” Peter says.

“That’s because you baked in the sun like a goddamn potato. Why’d you stay out there that long?”

Peter swallows, his red face still tinged with green. Then, he shrugs, looking guilty. “Thought I could do it. Harder than it looks.”

“Kid-”

“I should’ve been able to- to do it.”

“I wish I had never given you a chance in the first place,” Tony counters, but it just makes Peter look more miserable so he sets a comforting hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I mean don’t get me wrong kiddo. You did great. Your self preservation skills just suck.”

Peter perks up a little. “Get that from you.”

“That’s not exactly a compliment.”

“Oh. It’s not?”

“Yeah not so much.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter’s mouth splits into a smile and Tony feels his heart do a backflip. God, he loves this idiot child.

“The rational thoughts will come back when we get you cooled down,” Tony promises, a smile of his own tugging at his lips.

“Okay. Then I can finish the- the roof?”

“Nope. Not in a million years. Sorry to break it to you kid, but carpentry isn’t really your calling.”

And for once, Peter agrees with him.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday27 #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #irondad fic #heat exhaustion #morgan stark #hurt/comfort #fluff #tony stark acting as peter parkers parental figure #tony stark needs a raise lol #hurt peter parker #peter parker whump #febuwhump 2021

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tres-spades-hotel · 4 years

Note

I am not sure you are taking requests or not, but I got this idea and I really wished you could write something for it, 'about Eisuke falling in love with his secretary and make it a bit dramatic'. I know it may be a lot to ask but all your written works have been so beautiful, I just had to ask you. No problem if you couldn't do it :).

Hi there! I’m so glad you sent a request! Yes my requests are open, I only just realised that I haven’t put it anywhere on my blog that they are open... oops! Anyway, I’ve never written a secretary story before so this was definitely a challenge, thanks to @flatsuke and @leoamber66 for helping me find a solid plot to use. And thanks to @lin-ful for just being amazing! This story is 8000+ words so that’s why it took some time to get this to you. I hope this is what you wanted, if not I hope you at least appreciate the time and effort I took to writing this. Enjoy!

Keep Me By Your Side

They say patience is a fool’s game. Waiting for love will weigh your heart down heavily like an anchor in the ocean. But saying ‘I love you’ to Eisuke Ichinomiya will get you nowhere fast. What does he know about love? Kindness? Happiness?

He was young when he was made CEO of the Ichinomiya Group. He was even younger when he lost his mother to the scythe of death, when he lost his sister to a different, better, whole, and lovable family. When he lost his father to the mist of uncertainty. What could a man filled with emptiness from a traumatic childhood, know about love?

He’s arrogant but he’s suave. A businessman through and through. Ruthless and cunning. Intelligent and sarcastic. Sweet-toothed with hidden compassion. A passionate hater of peas. A wonderful smile when he is genuine. And believe me, I have only ever seen this smile once in my whole career.

He never gets drunk and he spends more time at his auctions than with women. No woman other than me has stayed longer than a night at his penthouse. No other woman knows that Eisuke prefers warm weather to cold. No other woman knows how he likes his coffee: sweet using three sugar cubes and milk. I still remember the first time I made him coffee.

‘It’s adequate.’

‘Really?!’

‘Do it again. It needs more milk.’

‘Okay!’

I remember when he told me about his life. I remember his touch when he wiped away dewy tears. Telling me that it was a long time ago. That he just wants the truth. Closure.

That’s why, as his secretary, I have to be there for him. Because Mr Ichinomiya, founder, and owner of the Tres Spades Hotels around the globe, the mastermind behind the black market auctions and my boss, has brought me down to my knees…

In love.

I am in love with Eisuke Ichinomiya.

I want to shout it out to the world.

Scream it at the top of my lungs as if his name is my breath.

But I can’t.

Because I am only his secretary.

‘Here’s your schedule for today. After lunch, you have a meeting with a potential investor for the new Tres Spades Restaurants. He wants to propose different menus and VIP arrangements plus staff requirements for the restaurant in Sydney, Australia.’ I hand Eisuke his tablet and a folder filled with paperwork.

‘Hm. And the auctions?’

‘All set. Baba is still looking for the specific item that you requested but we have plenty of other materials to sell tonight. Soryu has sent the invitations and Mamoru will get back to you about the increasing police activity here lately. And Ota… well he’s being Ota.’

‘Pfft, of course he is.’ Eisuke looks up at me.

‘And Luke?’

‘He nearly fondled my collarbones… again. But he is ready to proceed with the surgery this week.’

Eisuke narrows his eyes at me.

‘Tell Luke to come see me before then. And you know better than to visit Luke immediately after a surgery.’

I rub the back of my head nervously.

‘Well, you told me to see him right away so… I was just following orders.’ Eisuke sighs in response.

‘Oh! And Luke told me to tell you that he needs another x-ray of your collarbones.’

‘Why? I already gave him one a few months ago.’ The annoyance is written all over his features.

‘Because he left it in the other clinic in New York. Luke doesn’t have an x-ray here in Tokyo.’

He unconsciously pouts at his laptop screen.

‘Isn’t one enough?’

‘Apparently not…’ It takes everything in me not to stroke his head to comfort him.

‘What about your collarbones?’

‘When we got back, while you were still in London, Luke did a medical examination on me so he got an x-ray of mine.’

‘Remind me to ban him from using the x-ray machine.’ I reply with a giggle instead of words.

‘Vivian.’ He says with urgency.

I salute military style.

‘Yes sir!’

‘… You would make a clumsy soldier.’

‘Hey!’

‘If there’s nothing else, get me coffee and leave.’

I bow and attend to my duties. After giving Eisuke his coffee, I head down to the lobby to find Mr Kenzaki. The lobby is busy as always with staff running around attending to the whims of the guests. New guests checking in and old guests leaving satisfied by their stay. The Tres Spades never disappoints.

I spot Mr Kenzaki by the reception. I catch his eye and he walks towards me by the penthouse elevator.

‘Ah Vivian, is there something you need?’

‘Yes, the Boss will need the conference room after lunch. We will need it for a few hours.’

‘Of course, I will have it set up. Do you need the projector?’

I think for a moment.

‘I’m not entirely sure but set it up anyway. Better to have it on and not use it, than need it when it’s off.’

He smiles warmly at me.

‘I understand. I am glad to see that you have become a capable and worthy secretary to Mr Ichinomiya.’ I blush at his teasing words.

‘Thank you. But we both know that Boss would choose you over me any day of the week.’

‘Haha, I’m not quite sure he is that attached.’ I highly doubt that actually, but I don’t tell him that.

‘The guest is Mr Lance and he will be arriving in a few hours. Make sure the lobby is prepared. Boss and I will come down to greet him.’

‘Very well. Make sure to take breaks every now and again Vivian.’

‘Yes, I will.’ Mr Kenzaki has always been obedient and thoughtful. I admire his dedication to Eisuke and the others plus he was a huge help to me when I first started working at the Tres Spades. He’s almost like an uncle or a grandfather (I’m sorry Mr Kenzaki! I promise you’re still young!) to me and the others.

I return to the elevator, swipe my key card, press no. 51 and watch the metal doors close. Turning around, I watch the outside world grow smaller and smaller as the elevator pulls up. There was a time when I was bewildered by the sheer size of this hotel. Over 50 floors of suites and boutiques and shops and the auctions all bundled into one.

Funnily enough, I worked with Eisuke’s adopted father, Akira Ichinomiya before I came to work for Eisuke. Akira took me in when I was first starting out in business and he taught me the ropes. He introduced me to Eisuke a little after Akira retired and, although he retired, he still worked within the Ichinomiya Group to make things a little easier for Eisuke. We met a few times over the years before Akira decided to send me to Japan to work for Eisuke as his secretary instead. I was more than miffed to hear of his decision without consulting me, especially since we had gotten so close with each other. I lost my grandfather when I was young so Akira ended up filling in that void.

Akira assured me that Eisuke would teach me more about how the Ichinomiya Group runs and I couldn’t say more. With my salary increased and bags packed, I got into the private jet and waited to see my new boss.

Looking back, I think I put up a bit too much of a fuss because Eisuke became a wonderful teacher, and a great friend. He listened to me and my problems even though he never needed to.

‘I have to make sure that my employees are at their best. Physically and mentally. Hearing your small problems is nothing to the value you are as my secretary.’

His words back then bring a whole new meaning to me now. I hope he means them in the way that I think they mean. That he cares about me.

A vibration courses through me as my pager goes off. I pluck it out of my belt and answer it.

‘Hello?’

‘Vivian! Where are you? Come to the penthouse! I have something to show you!’ Baba’s excited voice reminds me of a child but I wait to see what he has in store.

‘Ta da!’ Baba’s jazz hands do nothing to appease the sight.

A large statue of Venus towers over us all as we gape at it.

‘How did you get it in here?’ I ask, bewildered.

‘That’s a secret.’

‘Did you break it in half?’ Ota asks next.

‘No! This is priceless!’

‘Then how did you bring it into the lounge?’ Soryu says.

‘That is also a secret!’

‘He used the helicopter and the window.’ Mamoru mumbles from the couch.

‘Oooooohhhhhh’ Ota and I say at the same time. Baba pouts in response.

‘Mamo! Don’t go giving away my secrets!’

‘That’s not my job. That’s Ayase‘s job.’

‘This isn’t what I asked for Baba.’ Eisuke glares at him after inspecting the statue.

‘Ah yes, well. The item belongs to a Mr Jason Taylor Lance. I believe his father is coming to the hotel today.’

‘He is.’ I say.

‘Fine, I’ll get it from him instead.’

‘What is this thing you’re looking for anyway Eisuke?’ Ota asks.

‘It’s a collection of gems found at a temple in Egypt. Rumours of the gems suggest that a whole manner of good things will happen to those who possess them. I figured they would go for a very high price at the auctions.’ Eisuke smirks.

‘They were unearthed a few years ago and have found their way to Japan.’ Eisuke explains. Baba sighs.

‘Well I need more time to find the exact location.’

‘Fine.’

‘Ota can you appraise the statue for me?’

‘Okay.’ He goes back to his room while I prepare coffee and tea. When he comes back, he puts on white rubber gloves and uses a magnifying glass around the statue. I check my emails, replying to some and deleting others when Ota quips:

‘It’s fake.’

‘WHAT! Are you sure!?’

‘Yeah. It was created with cheap materials. An amateur’s work.’ He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone that I don’t comprehend it for a moment.

‘You would never know just looking at it.’

‘Yeah but if you sell it then the person buying it would most likely be an art collector and they appraise everything.’ He sits down and takes out his phone.

‘Unlucky Baba. Just like your sex life.’

‘Hey!’

‘Baba take that thing out.’ Eisuke orders.

‘Alright, alright. Sor help me out.’

‘Why me?’ Soryu and Baba heave the statue out of the penthouse.

Eisuke and I have lunch and then we venture out to the lobby. Just as we exit the elevator, Mr Lance enters the hotel. He is a big man wearing a white suit and a silver chain around his neck. His bald head shines in the glow of the lights and I can hear his shoes squeak against the marbled floor. He spots us and smiles.

‘Mr Lance, I am glad you could make it.’ Eisuke plasters on his signature business smile, holds his hand out for a shake and I bow from beside him.

‘Eisuke, please call me Connor. If we are going to be business partners, we should at least start with first names.’ He wraps both Eisuke and I in a bear hug and I nearly gag from the heavy cologne smell. Mr Lance is overly-friendly and I can already tell that this meeting is going to be a long one.

When he lets us go, Eisuke straightens his suit.

‘Please follow me to the conference room.’ Eisuke walks away while I turn to Mr Lance.

‘Shall I carry your briefcase for you, sir?’ I ask politely.

‘Of course, please.’ He looks at me for a moment. During my time as Eisuke’s secretary, I have met many individuals who have looked at me in inappropriate ways but Eisuke is always there to make it clear my place by his side. Still, I always stand my ground. Even now, as Mr Lance studies my face when he suddenly gestures to the case on the floor and follows Eisuke.

I’m not sure what that look was on his face but something tells me that this meeting will twist horribly.

‘Of course the staff will be perfect in their presentation but I believe that…’

Mr Lance, despite his ‘we-should-use-first-names’ greeting, is actually quite the businessman. He and Eisuke have been discussing the chain of Tres Spade restaurants and how to profit the most without hindering their guest’s experience.

‘The Tres Spades always delivers in high quality standards. Our guests and what they desire are our top priority.’

‘I have no doubt. Reviews of your hotels are 100% which I completely agree with. But if we could…’

Although, they are at a stale-mate right now. Neither is willing to backdown which is making me nervous. Mr Lance is more insistent on getting his way and so is Eisuke.

‘Sir?’ I finally pipe up from my corner in the room.

‘Hm?’ Eisuke looks at me.

‘May I suggest something?’

‘I hope you do not mind.’ Eisuke says to the man opposite him.

‘Please, a second opinion is always valuable.’ Mr Lance says, nodding in my direction.

‘Well, I suggest that the guests are given a form to personally write down any changes they want or need to the menus. This way, waiters will be more efficient obtaining orders and will limit any commotion that may arise.’

‘Paper forms will get lost or damaged very quickly in a kitchen.’ Eisuke says.

‘Hm, electronic tablets? With the entire menu and a writing stylus or Bluetooth keyboard to use.’

‘The keyboard would be too bulky on a table for guests.’

‘Why not use both? Paper and technology alike. Reservations will need specifications on which apparition the guests would like to use. Spontaneous guests first arriving will be asked immediately before seating if they require the keyboard or stylus.’ Mr Lance suggests.

‘That would be agreeable for me.’ Eisuke says.

‘I also.’ Mr Lance responds.

I breath a quiet sigh of relief. Mr Lance looks at me again before turning to Eisuke.

‘Before I sign this contract, I would like to add something to this.’

‘Such as?’

‘You see, I have a son, who I assume is the same age as your secretary?’

I glance at Eisuke briefly before saying hesitantly, ‘I am 28 years old, sir.’

‘Ah perfect! I have a son who could use a woman like you by his side.’ At those words, both Eisuke and I look at each other. He glares at Mr Lance who does not seem to notice.

‘You are an impeccable woman. In just a few hours, I have seen your beauty, your perfect manners and now your incredible intelligence as a woman working in the business sector of society. I believe you would be a wonderful wife to my son and an even better daughter-in-law to my wife and I.’

‘What are you suggesting, Mr Lance?’ Eisuke could be a snake he spat out those words so viciously.

Mr Lance does not break eye contact with Eisuke. Actually, it seems as if he is not intimidated at all by Eisuke, which, despite his words, is impressive.

‘I will sign this contract. Only if your secretary agrees to marry my son.’

‘That is outrageous, as if I would agree to such a thing.’

‘I am not asking you, Mr Ichinomiya. I am asking her.’

There is so much tension in the air that I can see it. Literally. So if I don’t agree, Mr Lance will walk out of the project. But if I do… While there are other investors, Mr Lance has a large influence on the economy, just as much as Eisuke does. He’s too important to deny.

Maybe I should convince him to sign without the marriage?

‘If I may, Mr Lance, I am hardly worthy of being part of your family. I have no wealth which you would consider rich, neither do I have many connections or the reputation to be married into your family. The public and the media would, quite frankly, have a field day about this marriage which could result in backlash on your family and mine. Please, reconsider this.’ I think half way through, my reasoning became a plea.

‘My secretary has never met your son and neither have I. She has worked for me and my company for years. Her well-being is my responsibility.’

Mr Lance thinks over our arguments calmly, as if he has done this a hundred times to other employers and their employees.

‘Very well. Why don’t I have my son stay at the hotel for a week? They can get to know each other and when she agrees to the marriage, then I will sign the contract. Until then,’ he pushes the folder away, ‘I will not sign. This is final.’

He gets up, leaving his business card, and walks out whistling to himself.

* (EISUKE’S POV)

‘That bastard really believes that he can have whatever he wants just because I need him to invest in the project.’

‘Did he really ask you for Vivian’s hand in marriage?’

‘To his son?’

‘…..’ I don’t answer, I only glare at Baba and Ota who hide behind Vivian and Soryu.

Mr Lance has attempted something that I have never seen in my whole career. A marriage proposal during a business deal? Mixing his personal life with his work is extremely amateur for a man who has been in business for over 30 years.

‘That man’s head must have a few screws loose.’ Mamoru says in an exasperated tone.

‘So what did you say Vivian?’ Ota asks.

‘Well, I tried to tell him that I wouldn’t be a good match for his family but he wouldn’t listen to us. His son is going to be staying in the hotel and I have to attend to him.’ She says, clutching her tablet to her chest.

‘Eisuke, what is he planning?’ Soryu is right to be suspicious. Even I believe that there is something amiss here.

‘Soryu, Mamoru, find out everything you can about this man and the Lancer’s Group.’

‘Lancer’s Group?’

‘Mr Lance’s last name turned into-‘

‘A joke.’ Mamoru finishes her sentence. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Criminal records, illegal activity, anything. Baba see if you can find something in their estates. I want to know what they have in their possession.’

‘Uh, okay Boss…’

‘Ota I want to know what the public think about the Lance family.’

‘Sure.’

I get up from the couch and head to the stairs leading to my penthouse suite.

‘Eisuke, what about the auctions tonight?’

‘The IVC and the auctions will continue as usual. Vivian, coffee.’ I say before turning around and ascending the stairs. I hear Vivian’s high heels against the floor as she rushes to me.

As soon as I get inside, I sit at my office desk and begin researching. If the Lancer Group is as influential as the Ichinomiya Group, they will have more than a few skeletons in their closets. The smell of coffee fills the room as she makes my daily beverage. For a second, I suddenly imagine Vivian making coffee for someone else. Mr Jason Taylor Lance. With his hands on her hips and his lips at her neck, attempting to distract her from leaving. It disgusts me that another man besides me would have Vivian by his side.

I feel myself get up from my chair and wander to Vivian quickly. She pours milk and three sugar cubes into the mug. Her waist feels small in my hands. The hair on her head smells like argan oil. Vivian is actually a small woman, her head is just below my shoulders with high heels on. Her long dark hair is straight with a braided crown around the back of her head. She wears a black suit and a purple blouse plus I notice the thin platinum band around her right ring finger that I gave her when we first met.

I hear her gasp at my touch and she turns around in my arms. Her eyes are wide open with her eyebrows raised.

‘Eisuke?’

Eisuke. She usually says my name when we’re alone. When she’s in work mode, she calls me Boss, like Baba unfortunately, but I still remember how casually she said it the first time.

‘Eisuke, you’ve been working for hours. Take a break for a few minutes, please? What will I do if you faint from exhaustion?’

My hands cup her chubby face. Her trembling fingers hold onto my hands. The only man I see reflecting in her eyes, is me.

I can’t imagine being without Vivian.

Wait. What am I thinking? Or rather what am I doing?!

I let go of her face and turn to leave the room. Her short arms suddenly wrap around my waist as she desperately holds on.

‘Eisuke, I don’t want to leave you.’ Her whisper is enough for me.

But why do I care so much for her? Have I become attached to this woman? This woman who Akira introduced to me? The same shy, bubbly personality who has stuck by my side for more years than I can count? No one has survived as my secretary or assistant ever but Vivian has held on.

What am I feeling inside? This warmth in my chest?

The next day, we prepare for Mr Lance’s son’s appearance at the hotel. Jason Taylor is a famous model and fashion designer who is also known for his… drunk antics.

‘Soryu, make sure your men keep an eye on Taylor and Vivian while they are together. If he dares to make a move on her, I want them to intercept immediately.’

Soryu, sitting in the chair opposite my desk, rubs his head and sighs with exasperation.

‘Eisuke, my men are mobsters, not bodyguards.’

‘Soryu.’

‘I know, I know. I care about her too you know, we all do. She’s the only woman willing to stick by you and your peculiarities.’

‘….’

‘My men will watch out for her and will keep me and you updated on their activities.’

‘Good. Have you found anything incriminating?’

‘There is something. Apparently, the Lance’s have a secret operation in Brazil. It might be money laundering.’

‘Hm, have your men take it. If it is money laundering, the evidence will move the scales in my favour.’ We share a knowing look when Baba’s loud voice booms outside the office door.

‘Boss! He’s here! Come on out!’ I sigh and stand up.

‘Looks like His Highness is in your territory.’

‘We’ll see how long he can stay on his pedestal.’

Vivian meets us in the penthouse lounge. I gave her the morning off to mentally prepare herself for the work that she will have to do. She wears a different outfit that she wears for work which makes me feel better inside.

‘Hey Vivian, why are you wearing that?’ Ota asks. She looks down at her suit then to me.

‘Because I’m still working.’

‘But he’s going to be your fiancé, shouldn’t you greet him looking a little sexier or something appealing?’

‘If you’re so desperate for a fiancée, why don’t you go greet him?’ I spit out at Ota who frowns at me.

‘Baba, Eisuke’s being mean!’

‘You kind of deserved it Ota.’ Baba says.

‘Damn I’m tired. Can we get going now?’ Mamoru yawns.

‘Slacker.’ I hear Soryu mutter under his breath.

‘What you say!?’

‘That’s enough. Vivian.’ I turn to leave and hear Vivian follow. The others grumble along to see who has made an enemy out of me.

Just as the elevator doors open, we hear loud noises and women screaming. In the centre of all attention is JT Lance, a known critic, womaniser, drunkard and an exceptional model and designer. He was already at the top when he was born, but we’ll see how far down to the bottom he falls when I’m done with him.

He seems to be signing autographs on paper and magazines and on women’s bodies as well. Arms, hands, necks, chest, he’ll put his name anywhere. A typical celebrity. He wears a golden chain similar to his father and an open shirt revealing his body.

The lobby quietens down as I step out.

‘Oh, it’s the King!’

‘The King?’

‘Eisuke Ichinomiya?!’

The staff try to handle the guests as much as they can while I stride over to the man receiving his room key.

‘Mr Jason Taylor? It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ I smile at him and shake his hand.

‘Eisuke Ichinomiya, the pleasure is all mine! My dad says good things about you.’

‘Does he now?’ I highly doubt that considering our last encounter.

‘It’s a bit too crowded here to talk. Please follow me to the VIP lounge.’

‘Lead the way.’

In the lounge, JT sits making small talk with Ota and Baba while a female staff member serves drinks. I see her blush as JT winks at her from his spot on the couch.

‘Do you have any tips on how to attract women?’

‘Baba has trouble keeping a woman’s attention for more than a second.’ Ota quips.

‘Haha, the first thing a woman sees in a man is his fashion sense. And yours… is a little less than average.’

‘What?!’

‘You look a tomato with a head, hands and feet. You need to look more manly and dignified.’ He waves his arms around, looking a buffoon. Baba frowns, lost in thoughts.

‘I assume you wear that red… thing daily. Red is a passionate colour and bold to be worn in broad day light. But too much passion turns women off quicker than a light switch. A man should wear blues or purples, like Ota and Eisuke or that scary looking man over there.’ He points to Soryu whose face doesn’t change or move in the slightest.

‘… Um, even that man over there in the grey suit is more manly than you.’ He indicates at Mamoru who smokes at the window.

‘Hmmm, so I need to change my suit? But I love this suit…’ Baba mumbles to himself helplessly as Ota falls over laughing.

I feel Vivian fidget beside me as she gleans the man attempting to take her away from me. JT changes his focus to Vivian.

‘So, this woman is the secretary my dad told me about? What is your name? You are certainly a beautiful gem among the dirt. Have you tried modelling? I’m sure my designs would look stunning on you.’ His insult generates a glare but, like his father, he does not notice.

‘My name is Vivian Grier and I am certain that I am just an average looking woman, sir.’

‘Oh please, you would look divine! And call me JT, it would be plain weird if my future wife calls me so formally.’ I feel my eye twitch at his casual words.

‘She is not your wife yet.’

‘That will be her decision, will it not?’

The tension increases with each passing moment as we size each other up. But Vivian cuts it like a sword slashing in the air.

‘Um, JT why don’t I show you around the hotel? Then you can relax in your suite. I still have work to do unfortunately but we can have dinner tonight in the restaurant if you would like.’ Her suggestion does nothing to quell the fiery rage that is slowly growing inside me.

His smile sickens me to my core.

‘I would be delighted to have that. Ota why don’t you come as well, we can discuss some new designs I’ve created.’

‘Sure. Don’t worry, the old man beside me won’t be coming along.’

‘Hey!’ Baba shouts out as usual. The four of them leave but not before Vivian pats my shoulder and says,

‘I’ll back in the penthouse in a bit, try not to exhaust yourself too much before I arrive.' She smirks and winks at me before rushing to the others.

‘You’re going to do what!?’ The words I didn’t want to hear leave Vivian’s mouth so simply that I shout at her in front of the others in the lounge. She flinches but continues.

‘JT is going to check out of the hotel tomorrow, and I will go with him. I’m going to agree to the marriage and stay with his family at their mansion.’

I can only glare at her, trying to dispel the unshakable resolve in her eyes. But she doesn’t look away nor does she back down.

‘Why?’

‘You and I both know that there is something not quite right here. They’re hiding a corpse underneath all that fame and money and I’m going to find out what.’

‘…..’

‘I know you have been investigating. I’m sure you’ll find the evidence we need but do it before the wedding. I…. One day, I want it to be you and me at the alter Eisuke. Truly.’

My eyes widen. Is she confessing to me? Now?

‘Soryu? Can I take Ryosuke and Samejima with me? For protection and friends to accompany me?’

‘Of course, they will protect with their lives Vivian.’ He takes his phone out and leaves to prepare his puppy and shark.

Vivian turns to me.

‘Eisuke, if I find anything then I will send it to you. And I promise I’ll come back. Come back to you.’

Vivian stands in front of me as the strong woman I know she is. She’s doing what needs to be done.

‘Money laundering.’

‘Huh?’

‘We have evidence that the Lance family is money laundering. Find me something related to it or something else I can use.’ I say. We look at each other for a moment then she smiles at me.

‘Okay.’

‘Good luck Vivian. We’ll be here if you need us.’ Baba pats her shoulder.

‘Don’t get yourself killed.’ Ota says from the couch.

‘Kid, don’t go doing anything stupid now.’ Mamoru puffs on his cigarette.

‘Thank you guys. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.’ She smiles and bows to us before turning around.

‘And Eisuke?’

‘What?’

‘On JT’s phone, I saw a message. It said… the body is ready to be disposed.’

‘A body?’

‘Mamoru get on this.’

‘Murder, huh?’

‘Well, he gives lousy advice on fashion anyway.’ Baba says.

‘He was right about your fashion sense though.’ Ota retorts.

‘Kid, send me that message as soon as you can.’

‘I’ll try.’ Vivian’s heels stride out of the lounge. Strong and confident, she leaves with my heart.

The engagement is called on TV. Mr Lance announces the engagement and we watch as Vivian and JT exchange rings.

‘Such a tacky ring.’ I mumble to myself.

‘Hey, what’s that silver ring on her other finger?’ Ota points to the monitor.

‘Boss, didn’t you give that to her a few years ago?’

‘Obviously. I have more class than he does in style.’ I smirk. So even on TV, she continues to belong to me.

‘Eisuke, Inui and Samejima have dropped Vivian off at the hotel. She’ll be here in a few minutes.’

‘Good.’ My fingers hover over the pager’s call button. It has been confirmed that the wedding will take place tomorrow. JT has booked the ballroom for a party and invited me to attend.

‘So they recorded this and sent it to the media everywhere huh?’ Ota asks.

‘Yes. It’s hard to believe that it’s been 2 weeks since Vivian left us.’

‘She hasn’t left us. As if Eisuke would let the kid go, not with her skills.’ Mamoru, who for once is not asleep, teases me.

‘You’re not snoozing, has the station finally fired you?’ Soryu retorts.

‘Stop it. You all are too noisy.’ I order before Mamoru can fight back.

‘How are the preparations for JT’s party tonight?’

‘Going as well as I can hope. I’ve called the media here to capture JT’s antics on screen.’

‘Seriously? Does he know?’

‘Even if he does he’s not shy to the camera. Everyone knows his drunk habits. I’ve ordered for security to be ready to take action against him if he tries something.’

‘Ota, Mamoru and I will be there as well so you can count on us Boss!’ Baba says with as much enthusiasm as a balloon.

‘Why do I have to be there?!’

‘Because the alcohol is for free. I won’t have to buy you any tonight.’

‘Fine. I guess I’ll go.’ Mamoru grumbles to himself by the window.

‘Hook, line, and sinker. Point 1 to Baba.’ He tips his ridiculous hat and winks at Mamoru who pretends to gag on his cigarette.

‘Sir?’ Kenzaki enters the lounge with the woman I’ve been expecting to see since she left.

‘Miss Vivian has returned.’ His smile tells me that he has been missing Vivian as much as the rest of us.

‘Hey everyo-‘

‘VIVIAN!’

‘THANK GOD!’

‘GET US COFFEE PLEASE!’

Vivian jumps behind Kenzaki as the three men throw themselves at her. It is true that we’ve been miserable without her coffee. We have been living off of room service and Soryu’s tea.

‘I can’t believe you guys really missed me that much. I was gone for 2 weeks!’ She hands out the mugs and I sniff the coffee. It smells wonderful and for once, everyone is quiet in the lounge.

‘Would you like some Mr Kenzaki?’ Vivian asks.

‘No thank you, you can make me some another time. I have some work to do so I will leave you to it.’ He strokes her head like a father and leaves.

‘Vivian, upstairs.’ Still holding my mug and picking up Vivian’s bag, I climb the stairs with her in tow.

We sit beside each other when she looks up and smiles before taking out her tablet.

‘Even though I’ve been away, I’m still your secretary Eisuke. I’ve responded to all your emails and contacted everyone involved with the project. Mr Lance is going to sign the contract tomorrow after the wedding and-‘

‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

‘Hm, what?’

‘Did he do anything to you?’

‘No, not really. Despite the engagement, he hasn’t touched me. I thought he was seeing other women since he keeps going in and out of the mansion but I think it’s something else.’

‘Yes, the coordinates Soryu’s puppy sent is an office. It’s filled with counterfeit money.’ Vivian, Inui and Samejima were able to gain the site of Mr Lance’s operations from JT’s car’s automatic navigation system. The Ice Dragons stormed the place with Soryu and found over $200 million in cash.

‘What do you think it’s for?’

‘It could for a number of things Vivian. People have a way of finding things to buy when they millions to spare. Be it an object or a person.’

‘Did Mamoru find out about… the body?’

‘We’re still looking into it, but I have a hunch.’

‘Which is?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘No fair!’ Vivian pouts at me and I pinch her cheeks.

‘Oww!’ She says it in a more playful tone, letting me know that she’s happy.

‘You’ve gotten thinner since you left.’

‘I guess I was lonely without you Eisuke.’ She takes my hands and wraps my arms around her.

‘I missed you, so much.’ She hugs me tight, listening to my rapid heartbeat.

‘How have you been Eisuke?’

‘Fine. It’s not as if I need you by my side all the time.’ Who am I kidding? Her giggles tell me that she doesn’t believe my lies either.

‘But you will always miss my coffee right?’ Her teasing words make me chuckle.

‘Your coffee has done wonders for me. Even if you didn’t stay as my secretary, I would have made you the penthouse maid.’

‘Haha, I’m sure you would have.’ She raises her head and looks up at me through her long lashes. When did she become so beautiful?

‘Eisuke…’ When did her voice become so enticing when she says my name? And what would she sound like at night, beneath me with her head thrown back in pure bliss?

But before my lips can touch her skin…

‘Boss! Are you ready?’

‘Damn it, that thief always has awful timing.’ I grumble as we untangle our limbs from each other.

‘Don’t worry Eisuke. I’ll still be here when you get back.’ She takes my face into her hands and leaves a kiss on my forehead.

‘You know I will always be here.’ We lean our heads against each other, savouring the feelings that we hold dear. I’ve never felt love for a woman before. It’s not a bad feeling though.

* (VIVIAN’S POV)

I change into my casual clothing and go downstairs to find not only Soryu with Ryosuke and Samejima, but also Luke in the lounge. The TV has been set up for us to watch the party on mute.

‘Hey you guys.’ I sit on the couch next to Luke and see Eisuke, Ota, Baba, and Mamoru at the party, mostly drinking at the bar.

‘Hey princess.’ Ryosuke waves. Samejima and Soryu both give me a nod.

‘Hello Sexy Bones.’ I smile at Luke.

‘Why aren’t you down there Soryu?’ I ask.

‘Too many women.’

‘Oh I see.’ Soryu hates women with a passion. Eisuke was surprised when Soryu said he didn’t mind me being here. Apparently, I’m not the type of women he hates.

‘Where’s JT?’ I ask, trying to spot him on the monitors.

‘Over there, speaking to one of the politicians.’ Luke points to the far corner. For a while we wait and see what happens. Eisuke speaks to various celebrities, all with that sly smile on his face, while Mamoru drinks at the bar. Baba and Ota flirt with the other women at the party.

It all seems pretty calm when I see JT suddenly throw a glass of champagne at a wall.

‘Uh oh.’

‘What the!?’

‘He’s drunk.’ Luke observes.

JT seems to shouting at a staff member. One whom I know as my friend, Sakiko.

‘He’s going to hit her!’ I shout. JT’s large fist is balled up in the air, ready to hit its target when Eisuke grabs his arm and pins it back. He forces JT to the ground and Mamoru cuffs his wrists.

‘Oh thank god!’ I sigh with relief as Sakiko is attended to by the other staff members. Eisuke seems to be addressing the guests as Mamoru and security push JT off the premises.

‘The media will love this.’ I say.

‘Eisuke knew this would happen, that’s why he called them in the first place.’ Soryu says, turning his attention to clean his gun.

‘Mr Ichinomiya looked so cool! Just like you sir!’ Ryosuke says, looking at Soryu with admiration.

‘Indeed, Eisuke’s collarbones looked splendid.’ Luke smiles and Ryosuke gives me a look of bewilderment. I laugh despite the situation we just witnessed.

‘Eisuke did look really cool out there.’

‘Maybe you should make him the new Ice Dragon’s leader.’ Luke says.

‘No.’ Both Luke and I burst out laughing with Samejima trying to hide his smile and Ryosuke looking even more bewildered.

When Eisuke came back to the penthouse, I said good night to the others and followed him upstairs to his bedroom. I hugged him tightly as soon as we entered him room.

‘I saw on the monitors. Thank you for saving Sakiko.’ I nuzzle my face into his chest.

‘Hm.’ I feel the slight vibration course through his body.

‘Eisuke?’

‘What?’

‘Seeing JT be so… violent… made me think. Do you think sacrificing my freedom, despite knowing his flaws, despite knowing that there is always the possibility that he could become violent with me, that he could hurt me and cause me pain and trauma that I might never recover from, if marriage is about accepting the faults of the partner you love, should I accept his flaws no matter how abusive he could be?’

‘No. Because even the slightest possibility could destroy more than just your body, but your heart too. People like JT are not worth more than the dirt under our shoes.’

Suddenly, Eisuke dips down and hooks his arm under my knees.

‘Ah! Eisuke!’ Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, Eisuke throws me onto the bed and leans over me.

‘You’re still here though.’

‘I am.’

‘Are you going to leave?’ I look into his chocolate brown eyes. I can see my reflection in them so clearly. I feel my love for him bubbling up inside me.

‘Only if you force me to.’

‘Pfft, as if that would ever happen.’ His kiss is sweeter than any candy. It melts me at my core completely. That night, our hearts finally connect with one another. The moment that I have always wanted has been fulfilled. And before I pass out, I hear,

‘I promise, tomorrow, you will walk out as my woman. I will save you.’

Standing at the church doors, I breath in and out. Clutching a bouquet of hydrangeas, I think about last night. Eisuke promised that he would save me.

‘Go to the wedding tomorrow. I will be there and stop this madness.’

Akira comes up and turns me to face him.

‘Do not worry Vivian. Eisuke will give you a wedding surprise you won’t soon forget.’ His smile warms my heart. I asked him to come from London to walk me down the aisle. With my parents gone since I was a child, Akira is the closest thing I have to a father.

‘I know he will. I just hope he hurries up.’ I say. Akira holds out his elbow and my left hand gently clutches his suit. We hear the music begin and the large doors creak open.

With thousands of eyes on me, I look straight ahead just as Eisuke would. Ignore all the stares and look straight forward always no matter what. Cameras and flashes and whispers fill the room as I see JT smirk my way. The wedding dress wasn’t my choice. It was designed by JT and Ota together but it still isn’t the dress I imagined I would wear to my wedding. It’s a backless, pearl white lace dress with a ring of diamonds at my waist. My hair is in a loose bun and a thin hair band with small flowers rests atop my head. The dress trails at the back slightly and I feel it drag the fake flowers those sitting on the benches throw at us. In the corner of my eye, I see the bidders who wave at me. I smile inwardly, knowing that I’m in safe hands.

We finally make it to the priest and JT presses a light kiss to my hand. I gag inside as Akira leaves me to sit down.

The priest begins to speak the formalities and my mind drifts away. Eisuke said he would save me. So where is he? I’ve hoped for years that Eisuke would love me the way that I love him and now that I finally have it, we’ve become entangled in this mess.

‘If there is anyone who would object to this couple’s union, speak now or forever hold your peace.’

The doors behind us creak open once more. Everyone turns to see the silhouette of the man I love the most in this world.

‘I object.’

Eisuke walks forward as gasps and whispers fill the room. All cameras pointed at the King of Spades.

‘JT Lance has no business marrying her.’ He nods to the priest who takes out a remote and presses a button. A projector rises near the back of the church and a picture of a woman appears.

‘Oh that’s Miss Freya Opaline.’ Opaline was a great gem collector who mysteriously died when she tripped and fell into glass which pierced her heart.

‘Miss Opaline was not killed by what we believed was an accident.’ Eisuke’s strong voice echoes in the church.

‘JT and Opaline were both after the same set of gems that were unearthed in Egypt. Opaline got to them first so JT attempted to bribe her for them. When that didn’t work, he killed her and took the gems for himself.’ Moans and groans of the shocked public begin to rise.

‘The next few slides have secret messages between Mr Jason Taylor Lance and his associates who covered up the murder. Let’s also not forget about Mr Lance, who has been making counterfeit money for nearly a decade.’

‘Damn it.’ I hear JT whisper in defeat.

‘If there is anybody else who would like to object…’ As if on cue, Baba and Ota shout out.

‘I object!’ Everyone follows suit and I back away. Suddenly, Mamoru and the police walk in, arresting JT and Mr Lance. Before JT is taken away, I waltz up to him where he is handcuffed. I smile and throw the bouquet at his feet. The sound a slap resonates inside the building, rendering everyone silent. JT stares dumbfounded. Suddenly, I hear cheers for my performance and the police take JT away.

Eisuke comes up to me and I kiss him. I hear many screams and see white flashes behind my closed eyelids but I don’t care. He did it all and I helped him.

‘I love you Eisuke.’

‘I love you Vivian.’ He smiles genuinely and I fall in love again. We lean our foreheads together, knowing our love for each other is true.

‘It was nice of Mrs Lance to sign the contract on behalf of her ex-husband.’ I say.

‘Yes. Now that Miss Felicia is taking over, their business might finally have a chance of being good.’

‘But not as good as the Ichinomiya Group. Right?’ I laugh.

‘Obviously.’ Eisuke smirks at me when we hear a crack.

‘Okay, I think I got it.’ Ota says. The large statue of Venus stands before us once again… in pieces.

‘I guess you finally did something right for once Baba.’ Mamoru says.

‘Yeah! Wait what?!’

‘We were lucky that this was the statue that Miss Felicia was talking about. Who would have thought that Opaline and Felicia were such good childhood friends that Opaline gave the gems to her?’

The gems were never with Opaline to begin with. She sent them to JT’s mother as a way to rekindle their love for each other. Unfortunately, JT killed Opaline before she and Felicia could run away and start life anew. After her death, Felicia hid the gems inside the statue made by an amateur to prevent anyone from taking them.

‘The gems were the beginning of so much sorrow. Whatever stories there are, those gems hold nothing but pain.’

‘It’s a tragic love story but I think Felicia will be happy knowing that she has her own business to run and that her lover’s murderers are in prison.’

‘What I can’t believe is that Mr Lance wanted Vivian in order to blackmail you into selling the counterfeit money at the auctions.’

‘A stupid idea by a coward.’

‘Guys, I think I found it.’ Ota pulls out a golden box from the statue’s chest.

‘Is that it?’

‘Must be.’

‘Open it Eisuke!’

He takes the box and uses the key Felicia gave Eisuke. Inside is one gem, not multiple like the stories. A large diamond the size of a fist sparkles in the light.

‘Now this, will fetch a very good price.’ Eisuke smirks.

‘$20 million! $50 million! $100 million! Do I have any more bids?’

‘It’s going up.’

‘Of course it is.’

‘$150 million! $200 million!’

‘Wow.’

‘Honestly, these people are far too desperate for something good to happen to ‘em. As if a diamond can bring good fortune.’ Mamoru says.

‘$300 million! Any more!’

The diamond sits on a pedestal on top of a purple velvet cushion. I hug Eisuke’s arm and snuggle into his side as I feel him kiss the top of my head.

‘$500 million! Sold!’

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

A Tear in the Fabric

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, oral, binding.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and dark!Clark Kent and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Universes collided as a malfunction brings an unexpected visitor.

Note: This is my first DC/Superman fic and a rare crossover fic. I really hope y’all like it but tbh it’s filth.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your office shook. Rather, quaked. The glass vase in the corner broke on the table and a flash rippled through the air. You clung to your desk to keep from falling out of your chair. You waited a moment as an eerie lull followed. Then voices and rushed footsteps followed.

You got up and followed the several other bodies towards the labs. You were of the dozen or so people permitted beyond the doors and you slipped past the rest of the confused employees of Stark Tower. Natasha met you at the door and you both peered inside, the door at your feet.

Peter was in a heap, another body beside his. He groaned as he rolled over beside the other man and screamed as he faced him. He scrambled away and pushed himself against the wall. Nat grabbed your arm and you looked at each other. The man on the floor was unfamiliar and peculiarly dressed. He fell flat on his back and his eyes opened.

“Parker, what did you do?” Tony pushed between you and Nat as he strode in. His hair was askew as he straightened his tie.

The dark-haired stranger sat up and was on his feet so quick, Tony and Peter flinched. Nat stepped inside, ready to fight, and you lingered by the door. He was tall, broad, and he wore dark blue gear with a red cape slung from his shoulders. His blue eyes flashed as he spun in bewilderment. His hands were fist, as ready as Nat for conflict.

“I was just-- I--”

“Who are you people?” The man asked. “Where am I?”

“Calm down, Schwarzenegger,” Tony raised his hands. “We’re all friends here… and we’re wondering the same about you.”

“I’m…” The man’s eyes bounced from person to person. “...Superman?”

“Are you asking me?” Tony scoffed and brushed past him. “Kid, what did you?”

“I was just… looking at the particles--”

“Looking?! And maybe some touching?” Tony shouted. “I told you they’re not toys.”

“I know. I was just-- I figured something out and--”

“Broke every window on the floor!” Tony interjected. “And zapped in Adonis 3000 over here for good measure.”

“Um,” The dark-haired man looked around. “Can someone please tell me where I am?”

“New York. Stark Tower.” Tony hissed over his shoulder as he stormed towards Peter.

You glanced over as you heard footsteps echo behind you. Steve, Bucky, and Sam were nearly tripping over each other and skidded to a halt in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“We’re still trying to figure that out,” You kept your voice down. “Peter--”

“Peter, of course,” Bucky huffed as he crossed his arms.

“Who’s the muscle man?” Sam nodded to the stranger as he stared with consternation at one of Tony’s contraptions.

“Good question,” You passed through the door and Steve caught your arm.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Well, since Tony can only manage to yell at the kid, I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

“He could be dangerous,” Steve said quietly.

“And I’ve got the most dangerous heroes all around me.” You brushed his hand from your arm. “I think if he meant to do something, he’d already have.”

The man seemed even bigger the closer you got. As you neared, you recalled you were the only one in the room without combat training, a special suit, or enhanced abilities. You were just the one who did the paperwork to clean up after all the rest. You cleared your throat.

“Um, hello,” You tried to smile and the man turned to you, blue eyes blazing. “That’s a, uh, nice cape. Were you by chance at a costume party or--”

“I’m Superman.” He repeated, this time firmer. He looked at you as if you were dumb.

“Yes, okay, well you are at Stark Tower… in New York? Where are you from?”

“Metropolis,” He spoke again with the same obvious tone. “Stark Tower? Never heard of it.”

“Tony Stark?” You blinked. “He runs Stark Industries.”

“Ah, like Wayne Industries,” He said. “Maybe he knows Bruce.”

“Wayne Industries?” You wondered. “What’s--”

“In Gotham City. Bruce Wayne; the world’s most infamous playboy?” He said with venom.

“Actually that’s my title,” Tony turned as he finally quit berating Peter. “Never heard of this Wayne guy.”

The man scowled and turned to Tony. “Well, you sound like him.’

“I hate to break it to you, beefcake, but you’re a long way from home.” Tony crossed his arms. “Without precise data, I’d surmise a few thousand dimensions away.”

“Dimensions? That’s--”

“Look, I could go into the science of it but I think that might be a bit over your head. To put it simply, we have these magical little particles that can affect the fabric of space and time. Maybe throw us back a few years here or there but it seems my… protege here decided to go sideways instead of backwards or forwards.” Tony explained. “What I’m trying to say is that whoever you are, Capeman or whatever, well, this isn’t the world you’re used to saving.”

“But you ended up in the right place,” Nat intoned. “Seems we have the same interests in mind.”

“Keeping people safe,” Steve added. “Right?”

“Of course,” The caped stranger spun around. “Forgive me if this isn’t a bit… unbelievable.”

“Buddy, I wish I could say it was just a dream,” Tony sighed. “Or a nightmare. However you wanna see it. The good news is, if I can get the kid to do exactly what he just did, we might be able to send you back.”

“Well, um, Mr. Stark…” Peter piped up from behind him. “I kinda… well, the stabilizer isn’t… working anymore.”

“Someone get the kid out of here,” Tony pinched his nose. “Please. I can’t look at him. I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten and he better be gone.”

“What does that mean?” The strange man asked. “Stabilizer?”

“It means,” Tony ignored Peter as he was ushered out by Natasha. “That you’re stuck here for a while… hopefully not forever.”

“Stuck?”

“Don’t worry. We’re not gonna toss you out on the street to terrorize the public.” Tony assured. “We’re just going to--”

The man raised his index finger and touched his temple as he hushed everyone. His forehead wrinkled as he listened and his hand formed a fist. He was suddenly gone as he darted out in a blur of blue and red; a speeding, flying blur.

You looked around as Tony stood with his mouth open and the three men around the door grimaced. Steve frowned and turned to rush out after him. You followed but barely reached the end of the hall, where others watched from the other side of the clear walls. The lot of you were stopped by the reappearance of the man in a furious gust.

“What the hell was that about?” Stark snorted as he caught up.

“Robbery. Ten blocks down. Suspect subdued, waiting for police.” The man confirmed with an arched brow.

“Tony,” Sam turned to look at his boss.

Tony nodded begrudgingly.

“So, Superman, is it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind cooling it while we try to figure out how to get you back home?”

“Cooling it?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t stop you from saving this world,” Tony chuckled. “Just… try to loosen up.”

“Mmm,” The man grumbled. “I’ll try.”

Tony winked at you and beckoned to the three other men. You knew that look; ‘take care of it’. Bucky and Sam crossed to Tony and Steve squinted at you before reluctantly following. You turned back to the stranger who called himself Superman and held out your hand and introduced yourself.

“Guess it doesn’t matter so much if you know my name,” He took your hand in his large one. “Clark. Clark Kent. Reporter.”

“Oh,” You smiled. “I always wondered what it’d be like to be a reporter.”

“Boring, most days,” He shrugged. “What do I do now?”

“Well, it’s kinda my job to get you situated.” You turned halfway between him and the other men. “Tony is the one you were talking to, the blond is Steve, the one in the middle is Bucky, and then you have Sam. Natasha was the one who took the kid, Peter out. And there’s a few more back at the compound.”

“Compound?” He wondered.

“Most of the Avengers live there. For response purposes, in case of emergency, they need to be able to mobilise,” You explained.

“You’re not an… Avenger?” He asked.

“I’m… a glorified babysitter and some would call me little more than a secretary,” You shook your head. “But no, not one of them.”

“Hmm,” He lowered his chin and thought. You peeked over at the others and Steve’s gaze met yours before it strayed to the large man across from you. “Well, where do we begin?”

“I’ll have to figure that out,” You replied. “Just this way.”

💥

One week. One week and it was a shit show. Tony still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the stabilizer, even with Banner’s help, and Peter was in virtual exile. You were left to watch over your visitor and the rest of the lot. For the most part, they were friendly but wary. All except one who seemed entirely suspicious of the man in the red cape.

The very one sat across from you. Steve stared at the tablet as you went through his last mission report and the numbers attached to the collateral. You hated it but Tony demanded it and you knew it wasn’t for his own needs. He had government agencies and the military breathing down his neck every day.

You leaned on your elbow as you went through your usual schtick, scribbling down Steve’s explanation and aligning them with the events noted in the report. You were roused by the knock that killed the drone of Steve’s voice. Your door opened and you smiled at Clark as he peered through shyly.

“Sorry, to interrupt. I guess I’m early. I’ll just wait out here.”

“It’s fine. We’re almost done,” You replied. “It’ll be about five minutes.”

“Thanks,” He backed up and shut the door.

You looked at Steve as he crossed his arms and frowned.

“Why’s he here?”

“Tony’s thinking about giving him missions. He’s going to be given access to training rooms and I told him I’d show him around the Tower.” You explained. “Anyways, the factory--”

“Oh? You and him… you his chaperone now?”

“As much as I am yours,” You half-sang. “Steve, let’s just get this done with.”

“We don’t know him. We don’t know if he is who he says he is.”

“I think we would know by now.” You countered.

“Wherever he’s from, how do we know he’s a good guy there?”

“How does he know we’re the good guys?” You returned. “Steve, come on. He’s… nice.”

“To you,” Steve said pointedly.

“And you?” You wondered.

Steve shrugged. He tapped his fingers on his leg and huffed.

“A car was diverted through the factory wall so that I could keep a civilian from getting hit instead. I did my best to aim it away from the building but was able to prevent casualties.” Steve recited. “Human life is worth more than concrete.”

“Mmhmm,” You stared at him a moment before you wrote down his explanation. “Alright, then, I guess we’re done.”

“I can show him around,” Steve stood. “If you want. You must be busy.”

“I need to register him in the system--”

“So do it. I’ll give him the tour.” Steve insisted. “I’ll give him a chance.”

“You sure?” You asked.

“Eh, we could use a fourth on poker night,” Steve said. “And you can catch up on work.”

“Deal.” You closed the folder and slid the tablet aside. “You’ll see, Steve. He’s a good guy.”

Steve pressed his lips together and nodded. “I’m sure.” He neared the door and grabbed the handle. “If you say so.”

💥

You strode through the halls of the Tower on your way to drop off your weekly rundown to Tony. Your eye was caught as you passed by the transparent wall of the Tower gym. At the compound, there were several but a few people used that at the Tower when they had business on site. You stopped and turned to find Clark waving at you through the plexiglass

You let yourself in and crossed to him as he sat on the weight bench. His thick muscles peeked out from beneath his grey tank as he smiled up at you.

“I haven’t seen you much lately,” He greeted.

“Yeah, lots of work,” You waved the folder in your hand. “How’s life in the compound?”

“Different. Still.” He said. “Tony says it should be much longer.”

“You miss home?” You asked.

“Well… sometimes. A lot happened before I ended up here that makes me think, well, maybe I’m better off.”

“I’m sorry,” You said. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s… nice to have someone actually ask me how I’m doing.” He stood and went to the bar, carefully unscrewing the large weights. “Everyone here is nice, I guess, but… you’re nicer.”

“Heh, well, that’s half my job,” You chimed. “Smiling in the face of adversity.”

“I don’t think I’m very good at that,” He laughed and you both looked over as the door opened. “Not at all.”

“Hey, Steve,” You called to the new arrival.

“Hey,” He was evasive as he went to another machine.

“Case and point,” Clark placed the weights on the rack one at a time as he spoke.

“What?” You looked over at Steve again then back to Clark. “I thought-- didn’t he show you around the other day?”

“Oh yes, he did,” Clark finished up and clapped his hand on his shorts. “He told me how things were around here.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve done it--”

“I can take care of myself,” Clark assured you. “It was nothing. Can I walk you to… wherever you’re going?”

“Sure,” You smiled as he grabbed his bag. “I… I interrupted, though.”

“If you don’t mind my sweat, I don’t,” He affirmed.

He opened the door for you and you glanced back at Steve as he sat on the squat machine. He looked back at you and lifted a brow. You smiled and his gaze flicked over to Clark and he scowled. You hid your confusion and continued down the hall.

You’d never seen Steve like that; usually you admired how amiable he could be. Always smiling, always helpful. Perhaps Peter had done more than tear a hole in the universe.

💥

It was rare that you weren’t kept late on Friday. Even more unexpected that Steve would invite you to a movie. Sure, it was a pastime that you, along with Bucky, Sam, and sometimes Nat, would get together for, but it was so last minute you felt entirely unprepared. As you had felt for much of the last few weeks.

As you headed out from the Tower, you found yourself diverted by the scene you found in the hallway. Clark stood, hands in pocket, reading a glass plaque on the wall. There were several through the offices; each explained a different milestone in Stark Industries. He leaned closer and adjusted his glasses; those were Clark’s, not Superman’s he clarified.

You neared quietly and gripped your bag. “Learn anything interesting?”

“Not particularly,” He stopped reading and turned to you. “I like Tony, despite the obvious but… well, I don’t think anyone could ever like him as much as he likes himself.”

“He prefers people to think so,” You said. “What are you doing here?”

“They said they might have fixed the machine or whatever,” He explained. “They didn’t. The particles… They need more of those too. Said something about calling someone to get more? I don’t know, they seem to think I’m too stupid to understand any of it. You know, even my earth isn’t my home. I just happened to fall there… like I did here.”

“Krypton,” You offered. He’d told you a little about it, not much. “I’m sorry you--”

“I don’t miss it. I never knew it.” He shrugged. “I think what’s bugging me is I don’t even miss the place I should. My earth; Metropolis.”

“You had parents there?”

“Had…” He frowned.

“Anyone else?” You prodded.

“At one time but she-- Sometimes things just don’t work out.” He gave a grim smile.

You were silent for a moment. You looked over at the plaque, at the translucent outline of the helmet that topped the famous Iron Man suit. You fidgeted and glanced back at Clark.

“You wanna see a movie?”

“A movie?” His brows drew together.

“Yeah, kinda something we like to do around here when we’re not crammed in here like ants in a hill,” You said. “Bucky, Steve, Sam; they should all be there.”

“Ah,” He nodded hesitantly. “Well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Is it Steve? Don’t worry about him. I’m inviting you as my guest.”

“Well, in that case,” He smiled, genuinely that time.

You nodded down the hall and he gestured you ahead of him, following with his arm almost against yours.

“You know, you and Steve, you got a lot in common.” You said. “Now I’m not saying you have to be best friends but he was once you. One day, he was back in the forties and the next he’s stranded in the next century. I always thought it sounded lonely.”

“Really?” Clark asked. “I never… I didn’t know that.”

“Bucky too but… that’s a long story,” You led him to the elevators and hit the button. “I know they’re stubborn, always have been but I think you’ll see, you’re a lot more alike than you think.

💥

You walked into the movie theatre, staring at your phone as you texted Steve to let him know you were there. Clark grabbed your arm before you could collide with another moviegoer and you thanked him as you awaited a response. You stood awkwardly near the entrance, watching the scores of people and adrift in the smell of popcorn.

“Arcade,” Steve finally replied. “Claw machine.”

You told Clark to follow and dove into the crowd. You followed the current to the arcade and broke off. You stepped past the racing game and the electronic poker and spotted Steve’s broad shoulders as he fought with the stick of the machine. You neared as he bent to grab his prize from the open door beneath.

“Hey,” You chimed.

“Hey, just in time,” He turned with the stuffed rabbit in hand, “This is for--”

His voice died as his eyes settled on Clark. He grimaced and cleared his throat.

“For you.” He finished and kept his glare above you. “Clark.”

“Thanks,” You took it hesitantly. “Where is everyone else?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“I thought… Oh, well, I just, we usually, all of us,” You found it hard to complete a sentence. “I invited Clark so he wouldn’t be alone and--”

“Cool. That’s cool.” Steve said tersely. “I was waiting to ask you what you wanted to see so… didn’t get tickets yet.”

You smiled and looked down at the rabbit. You realised you might have misread Steve’s text. Yet you didn’t want to assume he meant this as anything more than your usual friendly get together either. You were certain he was just mad that Clark was there because for whatever reason, he just didn’t like him.

“Well, what’s playing?” You asked.

“The only thing still available is that horror movie, Crimson, or that comedy about the mime.” He said. “I’m not big on scary movies but--”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect ya, buddy,” Clark chuckled. “I think a scary movie might be fun.”

“Do you?” Steve challenged.

“Alright, alright, you two, let’s go grab some tickets, maybe some snacks, and calm down,” You urged. “Do you think you can make it through two hours?”

“Easily,” Clark grinned.

“It’s not a problem,” Steve uttered stiffly. “I’ll grab the tickets, why don’t you wait by the gate?”

You gave a pathetic smile and grabbed Clark’s arm. Steve’s eye caught the movement before he stepped away with a scowl. You dragged Clark away and past the rows of game towards the admissions stall. You hovered there, releasing him only to wring your hands together.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-- It’s usually a whole lot of us,” You said nervously. “I just don’t know what his problem is. He’s usually so nice and--”

“Ego.” Clark said. “I’ve dealt with it before. He’s the big hero, he’s used to being the best, the one in charge. He doesn’t like that I don’t bow to every demand. That his buddy Stark doesn’t make me.”

“I don’t… know,” You looked over as Steve neared. “Just promise me you’ll try to be nice even if he’s not.”

“For you,” He said. “Of course.”

💥

You usually enjoyed the previews but not that night. On either side of you sat a large, tense, and silently fuming man. You felt trapped between them as their arms took up much of the armrests. You held an extra large popcorn that no one seemed interested in and stared up dumbly as the deep voice announced upcoming titles. You should have just gone home and stared at the ceiling. That would be more enjoyable than this.

Then the theatre went silent as the screen turned black. The sonorous soundtrack droned before the screen lit up again. A mosaic walkway with lines of blood running along the cracks. Slowly the camera panned in until the entire screen was a sickly shade of red and the word Crimson appeared in large black letters, the music stopping on a high, terrifying note.

You really wish you had argued for the comedy. Yeah, it would’ve been stupid but with your anxiety already running high, you’d rather roll your eyes than bite your tongue.

Twenty minutes in, you rolled up the top of the popcorn bag and set it on the floor. A waste of overpriced kernels but the gory scenes made you anything but hungry. You winced and flinched as the movie carried on and felt a subtle shift from your left.

Steve’s hand fluttered over yours and he squeezed. You looked over at him and smiled. He leaned in until his arm was flush against you.

From your right, another subtle movement. It was until Clark’s arm slipped down from the top of your seat and dropped over your shoulders that you realised what was going on. He whispered in your ear. “Spooky, huh?”

You nodded as you were trapped in the hot tension of their bodies. You blinked and focused on the screen but you couldn’t decipher the words of the characters, barely even registered their screams. Clark played with the shoulder of your shirt as Steve’s thumb brushed over your skin. You didn’t like whatever battle they had declared.

💥

After the movie, you walked out and shoved the bag of cold popcorn in the trash. Steve was ahead of you and Clark behind you. As you came out in the cool night air, you shivered but basked in the refreshing chill it sent up your spine. The two men were silent.

“Did you like the movie?” You asked, suffocating in their wordless standoff.

“It was alright.” Steve muttered. “Bloody.”

“I liked it,” Clark said. “Been a while since I’ve been to the theatre.”

You nodded and dug your heel into the pavement. You glanced up at the streetlight and down the tarmac at the shine of yellow and white.

“I should get a cab,” You said quietly.

“Here,” Steve raised his hand to hail a taxi. “I’ll share. Make sure you get home safe.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Clark insisted. “Besides, it’s you and me who are headed to the same place.”

“You never know in New York,” Steve watched a cab pull up and open the door. “Nothing wrong with making sure.”

“It’s fine,” You raised your hands in a plea. “Really. It’s okay. I’ll be okay. You two just go… home.”

Clark gave a crooked smile and Steve frowned as he gripped the top of the open cab door. You got in looked up at them.

“Good night,” You grabbed the door. “I’ll see you two on Monday.”

“Night,” Steve’s hand dropped and he backed away.

“Good night,” Clark called to you. “Let me know when you get home safe.”

“Will do,” You said as you pulled the door closed.

You sighed and gave the cabbie your address before letting your head flop back against the leather seat. You couldn’t decide who was dumber; you or them.

💥

Monday came and you had a peculiar butterfly flapping around in your stomach. Friday night hung over you like a shadow. The thought of facing either man was unpromising. The idea of facing them together was worse and made you squirm. There was something you were missing and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. Or you were just being willfully and stubbornly ignorant.

But at the Tower, neither of them appeared. Well, they didn’t need to be there everyday. They probably got more done at the compound with its bigger and more accommodating facilities. You were thankful for the unexpected respite. Still, you were anxious. There was always Tuesday.

You buried yourself in paperwork and spent a little too long on the phone with intelligence. You skipped your lunch and by the end of the day, you were thoroughly exhausted. Yet you still had work to do. A lot of work. So you hunkered down for a few hours of overtime and went over field reports as you paced around your office, trying to stretch out the kinks in your legs.

You were startled by a knock. The Tower had grown quiet, most of the employees gone, even Tony as he had plans with Pepper. You slid the folder onto your desk and went to the door. Clark beamed at you from the other side.

“You’re here late,” He said.

“You too,” You stuck your head out and peered up and down the hallway. “I didn’t know you were even here.”

“Well, you know, the compound can be a bit… much so I come here at night to work out.” He said. “It helps me relax.”

“Oh,” You looked up at him confused.

“I just… I could hear you walking around in here and if you need a break, I’ll be in the gym. That’s all.” He said.

“Okay,” You nodded. “Sure, um…” You glanced back at the office. “Maybe I’ll take a break now. I could use it.”

“Alright,” He said happily. “Well, um,” He rubbed his neck as he backed up. “Should I lead the way?”

You stepped out into the hallway and looked down towards the next. He turned and you followed just behind him. You frowned as you realised he wasn’t really dressed for the gym. Well, maybe he still needed to change. You kept on, happy at least to be out of your stuffy office for the first time all day.

He opened the gym door and you stepped through, only noticing that another was already there as the door clicked shut behind you. Steve sat, hands together, on the weight bench. He wore a tee shirt and jeans. Like Clark, he didn’t look as if he meant to use the equipment. You spun to looked back at Clark.

“Um, what’s going on?” You asked. “You two--”

“We have our differences,” Steve said from behind you. You turned back to him as he stood. “That much we’ve figured out but we’ve also found that we have one glaring thing in common.”

You narrowed your eyes, dizzy and you looked between them.

“You,” Clark said.

Your heart dropped. You gulped, speechless. Then you laughed. It was unbelievable. Ridiculous. You were misunderstanding them.

“Funny?” Clark asked and you choked on your giggles.

“Well, which one is it?” Steve asked.

“What do you--” You blinked. “We’re friends. That’s all.”

“Friends?” Steve scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“Is this a game to you?” Clark asked. “Huh, you like to lead the boys on and then act innocent when they want more.”

“No, I never-- I was just being nice,” You snapped. “I don’t-- We saw a movie and-- I didn’t do anything to--”

“You didn’t stop anything either,” Steve stepped closer and Clark mirrored him. “Would you have? If my hand had slipped a little lower? Or his?”

“You two… this isn’t funny anymore.” You spun between them as they closed in.

“Choose,” Clark said. “Him or me? It’s obvious you want one of us.”

You were silent. You picked at your nail as you looked back and forth between them.

“Or both?” Steve smirked and his eyes met the other man’s over your head. “I mean, you’ve been trying to make peace between us. What better way?”

“I…” You shuddered. “I got work to--”

You tried to sidestep Clark and he caught you around the waist. He flung you back and you collided with Steve. His arm wrapped around you as you struggled with him. You stomped his foot but he merely grunted and Clark neared as you kicked out at him.

“Stop, stop!” You cried. “I didn’t mean for-- You’ve misunderstood-- I never--”

“Shhhh,” Clark caught your feet and you hung between the two men. “It’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

“The opposite, in fact,” Steve added as they moved you to the weight bench and forced you across it.

“Hold her still,” Clark flicked your heels off and they bounced across the floor. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s not play this game.”

“Steve,” You gasped as you looked up at the man holding down your shoulders. “Steve, please, why are you--”

He slid his arm across your chest and smothered you with his palm. Your legs flailed and Clark trapped them between his as he stood over you on the bench and tugged at the waist of your skirt, busting the zipper as he tore it past your thighs. You writhed as the fabric fluttered to the floor and he grabbed your panties. He slipped them down your legs, past the sheer thigh highs and the dropped atop your skirt.

“Don’t let her up,” Clark ordered and left you to kick against the bench.

He returned with a skipping rope and wound it around your waist and arms, securing you to the bench. He nodded to Steve who ripped open the front of your blouse, the fabric pushed back over your shoulders to bare your bra. He snapped the front of it and it fell away from your chest, agape like your open shirt.

Clark grabbed another skipping rope and wound it around your shoulders and neck. Steve let you go and you squirmed against the tight rubber cords.

“Please,” You begged.

“Do you want me to shut her up or--?” Steve asked.

“I thought you called the shots around her,” Clark snapped as he removed his glasses.

“Do I?” Steve neared him. “If it was up to me, you wouldn’t be here.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be drooling like a lovesick puppy,” Clark sneered. “Shut her up, then.”

Steve snickered and turned away from him. He winked at you as he neared and undid the front of his jeans. You grunted as you tried to roll off the bench but only caused the rope to dig deeper into your flesh. You pushed your feet onto the bench and kicked, trying to break the ropes. Nothing.

Steve came around your head and pushed open the denim. He rolled his jeans down with his briefs as he pulled himself out, stroking his already hard cock. You shook your head, barely able to as the rope squeezed your neck. He gripped your chin tightly, pressing until you opened your mouth with a whimper.

He bent his knees and shoved himself inside. You gagged around him as he forced his cock down your throat. Your body spasmed at the suddenness of the intrusion and your fingers clawed at the bench. He pulled back but not for long as he slid back in, your throat contracting around him.

“Mmmm,” Clark purred as he wrenched your legs apart and sat between them. He dragged his fingers along your folds. “So sweet… well, that’s what you like people to think, isn’t it?”

You could only groan around Steve as Clark teased you. Rubbing you until you felt the wetness spread. He poked a thick finger inside of you and your legs tensed against him. Your legs were trapped against his as he held them wide apart with his knees. He added another finger as Steve pushed himself as deep as he could go.

“You just gonna play with her all night?” Steve rutted down your throat between thick breaths.

“I’ll do what I want,” Clark clasped your thigh roughly with his other hand.

He turned his fingers and curled them. A pressure built at his fingertips. You were ashamed of how easily your body responded to him. You gripped the side of the bench as it seemed to strain beneath you.

Clark hummed and drew his hand away. You couldn’t see him but could hear him suck his fingers. It added to the sickness that curdled your stomach as Steve fucked your mouth. The sloppy noises that came from you echoed across the airy gym.

The bench shifted as you sensed movement at the other end. Clark lifted your legs and slid closer. He rested your ankles against his shoulders as his hand brushed your cunt, then his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, poked inside a little, then pulled out.

He slicked himself along your folds, rubbing against you and once more pressed himself to your entrance. He sank inside of you slowly. He let out a long groan and the deeper he got, the louder he grew. He jolted you as he lost his patience and impaled you entirely.

Steve’s cock poked the back of your throat as he bent over you and sped up once more. Clark began to thrust from your other end, your walls stretched around him painfully, and you arched your back against the tension of the ropes. You were lightheaded, barely able to breathe, your eyes rolled back as you quivered between the men.

The heat bloomed within you, building and building, the fire flowed through your veins as the room faded away. You shuddered and gasped for breath around Steve’s cock. Large hands clung to your thighs and lifted your ass just slightly as Clark hammered into you harder and harder.

You legs shook at the sudden snap inside of you. You unraveled in an instant and murmured as you spasmed wildly atop the bench. Your orgasm washed away all your fear and doubts and your lips hugged Steve’s cock even snugger as it slid in and out of your mouth.

Then it stopped. All of it. The ropes loosened and you were suddenly very empty. The only bound that remained was that around your neck which grew tight. You opened your eyes as they turned you onto your stomach. Your arms and legs dangled over the sides of the bench and the rope, a noose at your throat, drew taut as your head was forced up.

Clark held the other end of the skipping rope as he poked at your lips. He slid his cock into your mouth and down your throat. Steve settled behind you and titled your pelvis as he felt around for your entrance. His cock filled you swiftly as he slid closer. His hands gripped your hips as he began to slam into you, forcing Clark’s cock further down your throat.

“Fuck,” Steve snarled as he crashed into you over and over, jerking your entire body as he did.

“She’s… good,” Clark breathed as pulled the rope tighter. “Very… good.”

“Shit, I’m almost there,” Steve slapped your ass as you began to quake again. “Look at her, she’s cumming again.”

“Mmm, such a good girl,” Clark’s large hand grasped your head as he hammered into you. “Yeah, oh, that’s it.”

Suddenly, he pulled out and dropped your head, the spit dripping from your lips. You felt a warmth on our back as he came between your shoulders, his groans deep and dusky. Steve followed shortly, pushing himself back as he slipped out of you and rubbed himself through his climax against your thigh.

You remained, weak and whimpering, on the bench. You couldn’t move; stunned, drained of every ounce of strength. You panted wildly and your fingertips felt the cold floor blindly.

“Get her up,” Clark ordered as your vision began to clear.

“You.” Steve countered sharply. “You said it yourself,” Fingers danced over your spine and made you shiver. “I’m in charge.”

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localaakash · 3 years

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10 Best Things About App Development

Mobile application development is a Business that isn’t only a mechanical development. You need business information and abilities to foster an easy to use application. In this blog, we will feature not many central issues which each entrepreneur, application engineer just as administration giving organizations ought to recollect prior to fostering a portable application.

Flutter App Developers is a believed portable application improvement organization. Flutter app developers acquired unique comprehension about portable application improvement systems across security, information the board, asset enhancement, UX subsequent to conveying many exploration projects across the enterprises. Their point is to convey the portable applications to their accomplices that can really bring high effectiveness for their business and create brand attention to their contributions. Possibly you need a crossover or local portable applications, android or iOS applications, they furnish your business with the easiest to understand applications. Versatile application advancement is the cycle to making programming for cell phones and computerized colleagues, most normally for Android and iOS. The product can be preinstalled on the gadget, downloaded from a versatile application store or got to through a portable internet browser.

With the developing number of individuals getting to the Web by means of cell phones and tablets, portable application improvement has the extraordinary capacity to get to an enormous number of expected purchasers. Basically, a versatile application permits you to have a large number of new clients readily available.

A versatile application engineer’s essential obligation is to make, keep up, and execute the source code to foster portable applications and portable stage programs that address the issues and prerequisites of the customers utilizing the PC programming dialects. In case you’re hoping to begin rapidly (and have a little Java foundation), a class like Prologue to Versatile Application Advancement utilizing Android could be a decent strategy. There’s nothing more needed than about a month and a half with 3 to 5 hours of coursework each week, and covers the essential abilities you’ll be an Android designer.

Top 10 Best Things About App Development:

1. Exploration

In the event that you have a good thought to foster a top-notch versatile application for your business, the principal thing you need to comprehend is the market, client interest and patterns. Indeed, even prior to giving a mechanical touch to your business application, you need to do statistical surveying. A market investigation report can give you exceptionally valuable experiences. You can comprehend the fame of comparative applications accessible on the lookout and your rival methodologies. This will permit you to upgrade your application from the earliest starting point. Apogaeis trusts in “Gaining from other botches than Learning in the wake of committing errors.”

Client surveys can give you a brief look at client different preferences, decision and inclination and future requests. You can take a note of the torment regions and attempt to determine those in your versatile application. An examination can offer you a chance to design better and permit you to set up a strong application from the earliest starting point.

2. Distinguish Target Crowd

This goes under the research stage and is critical. Distinguishing the correct arrangement of crowds for your application is vital. The whole application future relies upon these objective arrangements of clients, as they assume a huge part is application advancement, just as applications include extension and development. Questions like who will utilize my application and how it can increase the value of their lives, ought to be asked prior to the beginning of events. In the event that you meet the assumption for your clients, certainly, your application will get mainstream and it will assist you with creating more income.

3. Right Stage Choice

Quite possibly the main inquiry you need to pose to yourself is, in which stage you need to convey your business application. It is fitting, to begin with, one stage. Be an expert of a solitary stage, later you can proceed onward to different stages. iOS, Android and Windows are the most mainstream versatile application stages.

To choose the most appropriate stage for your portable application, you need to keep certain things to you like application brand, target crowd, application highlights and above all evaluating system. From that point onward, you need to pick an advancement strategy for your business application; Local, Portable Web or Crossover. Local applications enjoy numerous benefits, yet they might very well be somewhat costly.

4. Set Strategy

Prior to beginning to construct your business versatile application, ensure you comprehend the whole interaction. A strong business application takes a respectable measure of time and exertion. It additionally goes through different stages. The entrepreneur ought to comprehend the significance of the relative multitude of stages, prior to going on. Undertaking The board, Application Plan, Application Engineering, Application Improvement Philosophy, Application Testing, Upgrade lastly Application Arrangement These are the essential phases of any portable application. Set a strategy for your application improvement measure. Observing and controlling are a lot of fundamentals. Delivery a beta form of your application first, and do thorough testing and audit prior to delivering the full form to the end clients.

5. Know your Spending plan

Fostering a business portable application requires venture alongside information and systems. Knowing your financial plan and distributing it appropriately among each phase of application improvement is fundamental. There are different parts of an application that expects cash to be put resources into; application improvement, support, refreshing, advertising and so forth Essentially your application spending plan relies upon your speciality. The kind of application you need to make and the sort of substance you wish to add to your application.

6. Think Out about the Case

Continuously remember a certain something. Individuals need something else. Why do they pick one brand in front of another comparable brand? It is simply because they feel the picked brand has something extraordinary to bring to the table. Portable applications are the most ideal approach to connect with your clients and likely the simplest method to change over a lead into an expected purchaser. People tend to get exhausted from one thing rapidly. As there are a large number of cell phone applications accessible on the lookout, application clients need to be presented with something new. Henceforth, it is prescribed to think out about the crate techniques or includes and don’t allow your clients to pick another person.

7. Smooth and Effective

No reason, your business portable application should be smooth and effective. In the event that your application is setting aside a great deal of effort to stack, it might end up being lethal. Either client uninstalls the application after first use or seldom opens it. It adds to making a bad introduction to the client’s psyche. Ensure your application doesn’t burn through a great deal of memory space and preparing power on a cell phone.

Effectiveness is something clients anticipate from every one of the portable applications. It incorporates ease of use, information productivity, battery uses, security and the same. On the off chance that your application is utilizing a great deal of 3G or 4G information, it probably won’t work for you in a more drawn outrun. Clients may download and neglect. In this way, don’t fall into that class and create your application in such a way that it will not devour more information about your clients and doesn’t deplete the battery.

8. Client Experience

Client Experience is the foundation of any application. In the event that you neglected to give your clients phenomenal experience, there is no justification for them to return to you and utilize your application. Client experience is an inexorably pivotal element with regards to the computerized scene. An application characterizes how a client feels and considers your business and administrations. It is tied in with making something significant, simple to utilize and successful for your intended interest group. Try not to make your application confounding or convoluted.

Portable Application Client Experience

An all-around thought portable application offering consistent client experience can convert into a few key advantages. The functionalities and substance that are conveyed to your application should be in accordance with your intended interest group. The finished result should give an unrivalled quality of client care. In the event that you can’t give a quality portable application, it might hurt your image picture.

9. Zero in on Showcasing System

There is no significance in building an application for your business on the off chance that you are not zeroing in on the most proficient method to advertise it and make it accessible to possible clients. Making a buzz, before the dispatch can advance your application so that your application can get a ton of reach from the word go. A large portion of the entrepreneurs come up short in executing their promoting systems for their versatile application.

Distinctive Portable Applications have a diverse focus on clients. Also, you need to break down your industry and your potential client base. In the wake of dissecting that no one but you, you can make techniques on the most proficient method to advance it. Online missions are one of the ideal choices for some entrepreneurs. In any case, your promoting system relies generally upon your industry, contributions, and your expected clients.

10. Testing

It is critical to test your portable application before you dispatch. Before clients get an encounter, you should ensure it can satisfy their prerequisites. Smooth, proficient, elite are not many of the things you should remember while testing. Testing will permit you to clean out every one of the little hiding spots and make your application a solid business instrument that can interface your business with your clients.

In case you’re looking for an ios development company in Rajkot or any kind of site improvement, you can employ any developers as all are perhaps the most solid organizations in the country.

To put it plainly, Quick isn’t just more helpful yet will likewise set aside a more limited effort to learn. While Quick has made it simpler than it used to be, learning iOS is as yet not a simple errand and requires a ton of difficult work and devotion. The versatile market is detonating, and iOS designers are popular. The ability lack continues to drive pay rates ever more elevated, in any event, for section level positions. Programming advancement is likewise one of the fortunate positions that you can do distantly.

Turning into an iOS engineer requires some exertion, however. In case you’re new to advancement on Apple Stages, you can begin with our devices and assets for nothing. In case you’re prepared to construct further developed capacities and appropriate your applications on the Application Store, join up with the Apple Engineer Program.

Conclusion

The quantity of cell phones is more than laptops. Around 70% of individuals invest energy in applications and 80% of individuals utilize versatile applications for buying, instalment, and booking. Independent of any industry, versatile applications are demonstrating out to be a fundamental instrument for business development and reach. The chance is gigantic and the market potential is enormous. In this way, while fostering an application for your business you should keep the above things to you.

Source: https://aakaksharmahdev.medium.com/10-best-things-about-app-development-f8d17b7e812d

#App Development #Flutter App Development #iOS App Development #Business App Development #Best App Development

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zukoskataraa · 4 years

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a request i got from @ibelieveinhomer. posting this again bc i accidentally deleted the original post smh. hope you guys like the fic!

prompt #70: you're warm

Katara felt drained as she walked out of her 7pm class. She had classes the whole afternoon, which were all majors, and a makeup class for a minor subject earlier in the morning. The only break she had was for lunch, which only lasted 30 minutes. The only thing she wanted to do was to go back to her dorm and sleep until next week. She texted her boyfriend, Zuko, and asked if he could come to her place. And seconds later, he replies with a ‘sure, I’ll be there in a few’ which makes Katara smile. At least she could cuddle with her boyfriend. She stops by a fast-food place to grab food for her and Zuko, and heads to Starbucks to buy chamomile tea, which helps her relax.

Zuko arrived at Katara’s dorm, not feeling well. He went inside and laid down on her couch, groaning. He had chills, and a cough. He knew he should’ve stayed home, but he also knew that Katara’s schedule was hectic today and she would need to destress. So, he put on his hoodie and dragged his ass to Katara’s place, which wasn’t too far away from his place either.

“Hey, Katara.” Zuko smiles as she walks in, getting up to grab the food in her hand. She smiles, leaning in to give Zuko a quick peck on the cheek.

“Hey. I got us food!” She says and Zuko chuckles.

“Thanks. I would have gotten food on the way here, but…” He stops, knowing that if Katara found out he had a cold, she would scold him. Katara looks at him, waiting for him to finish. “Ah, nothing. Thanks for the food.” He smiles and grabs the plastic and her tea, and puts it on the table. Katara puts her bag on the floor as she walks over to Zuko and grabs his hand.

“You’re warm.” She says and proceeds to place a hand on his neck. He grabs her hand away from his neck.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He says, and lets out a small cough. Katara looks at him, all serious, and puts her hand back on his neck. This time, he lets her, knowing that she would find out anyway.

“You have a fever, don’t you?” She says, putting her hands on her hips. Zuko looks at her, then looks away.

“Uh, maybe?” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and she sighs. “But I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me.” Zuko says. But to his dismay, he lets out a dry cough.

“Of course I have to worry about you. You’re my boyfriend, and I love you. I can’t have you getting sick.” She says as she smiles at him, eyes full of love. Zuko smiles, taking her hands in his. “But you know, you should have stayed at home.” Zuko chuckles.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” He says and Katara picks up her tea.

“Here sit down and drink this. I’ll head to the pharmacy and buy some medicine.” She says, well more like demands. Zuko wants to protest, but doesn’t, and he does as she says. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You can go ahead and eat dinner.” She walks out of the dorm and returns to see that Zuko hasn’t touched the food.

“I got you cough syrup, and some ibuprofen. I also got you some skittles, since I know they’re your favorite.” Katara smiles, and Zuko can’t help but smile back. How did he deserve someone like Katara?

“What’s wrong? Do you not like the food?” She asks as if she’s talking to a child. Zuko chuckles, taking a sip of the tea.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll just throw up whatever I eat.” He says and Katara purses her lips.

“Okay true. But, you need to eat at least a little. You can’t take your medicine on an empty stomach.” She simply says and sits down next to him, unwrapping a burger and puts it near his mouth. “Here, bite.” And Zuko can’t help but laugh.

“First of all, I’m not a kid. Second of all, I don’t need to eat.” Zuko says, sipping his tea. “I already have the tea.” Katara sighs.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” She says with a small smile on her face. “Come on, please? Eat at least half the burger.” She looks at him with puppy dog eyes and Zuko knows he can’t say no.

“Okay, okay.” He sighs and takes the burger from Katara, slowly eating. Katara grabs her burger as well and starts to eat. A few minutes later, Zuko finishes half of his burger. “Okay, I’m done eating, mom.” He adds the last part jokingly and Katara giggles.

“Hang on, I’ll grab some water for you.” She says as she gets up and goes to the fridge to grab a bottle. She walks back to Zuko and before she can sit back down, Zuko gently grabs her by her waist and looks up at her.

“Thanks. For taking care of me.” He says in a soft voice and Katara smiles and leans down, giving him a peck on his head.

“You don’t have to thank me, Zuko.” She says as she grabs the medicine on the table. Zuko pulls her down so that she’s sitting on his lap, and she giggles. “Even when you’re sick, you’re still a flirt.” She jokes and Zuko laughs, resting his head between the crook of her neck. “Here, take the cough syrup first.” She says and Zuko looks up and takes the medicine from Katara. He drinks it and makes a face, making Katara laugh. “Here, drink some water.” And Zuko does. Katara grabs the ibuprofen tablet and puts it on Zuko’s hand and he takes it, swallowing. He grabs the water and drinks it.

“I’m never getting sick again.” He says and Katara stands up, smiling.

“That’s why I keep telling you, you have to take vitamins everyday, eat healthy, drink water, and exercise.” Katara says, and starts to clean up their mess. “Here.” She hands him the skittles and he smiles.

“Thanks.” He opens it and starts to eat. He takes one and offers it to Katara and she takes it, with her mouth, earning a chuckle from Zuko. She puts away the trash and drinks some water, then head back over to Zuko.

“You better not get sick.” Zuko says to Katara in a serious voice and she laughs.

“I won’t. I have a better immune system than you.” She teases. “Now come here.” She grabs his warm hand and they walk to Katara’s room. “You need rest. Now sleep.”

“Hey, you need to rest too.” Zuko says and Katara nods.

“I know. I’ll rest after I take a quick shower. Now, you go and lay down.” She says and Zuko sighs, walking over to the bed.

“Hurry up, I wanna cuddle.” He says and Katara laughs, heading over to the bathroom. She takes a quick shower, like she promised, and changes into a tank top and shorts. She puts her hair in a bun and brushes her teeth before heading back to her room. Katara walks in and sees Zuko fast asleep. She smiles as she turns off the lights and turns on the lamp beside her bed. She sits down and plants a quick kiss on Zuko’s cheek and brushes some strands of hair away from his face. She turns off the lamp and lies down, her back facing Zuko.

“Good night, Zuko.” Katara says and she instantly feels Zuko’s warm body behind her as he moves closer to her.

“Good night, Katara.”

#zutara #zutara fic #zuko #katara #atla katara #zuko x katara #prompt #request #writing prompt #writer #atla fic #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #the last airbender #fic #fanfic #oneshot #fluff

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jihoonluvclub · 5 years

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Eidolon (M)

About: You inherit your childhood home, and with it, the things that still dwell inside. Pairing: Ghost!Dino x Human!Reader Genre: Smut Warning: Explicit content, ghost sex, oral (receiving) Word Count: 3.3k

Rickety old floorboards creaked under your weight as you climbed up a set of stairs. Everything about the home was familiar yet distant. An old family home that hadn’t been lived in for many years.

It was passed down through family members for years, as a child your parents had moved into it as well, and now it was yours. Despite the work the home needed, it was cheaper than the apartment you were formerly living in.

You felt the crisp and cool fall air coming through one of the open windows. With the cold, the air also lets in the midnight sounds of frogs, chirping insects, and the soft babbling of the culvert outside that keeps the lake’s water from flowing over the road.

The view was just as calming, the red and orange of the fall leaves muted under the nearly-full moon’s light, just a few shadows of clouds obstructing you from seeing the celestial body in its full glory. The lake itself was still and quiet, but always carried that special feeling of childhood nostalgia. It all seemed so much bigger when you were a kid.

As you rested your weary hands on the windowsill, you were startled from your daze by the orange tabby that came with the house, mewling loudly and staring at something unseen down the hall. He had been acting strange since you moved back in, and as you heard the echo of footsteps down the hall it almost made you jump. Thankfully, nothing but the cool night air and your paranoid feline shared the home with you. It was just the house settling in.

“Don’t scare me like that, Chan.”

You mutter, going back to your stargazing for a few minutes. You chuckle to yourself a little as you do so. Chan was something of an imaginary friend during your childhood, it’s almost silly to bring him back up as an adult after you’ve inherited the house.

You even had a crush on him for the longest time, which only makes the whole deal even more shame inducing. The place has been here since the late eighteen-hundreds and made strange noises all the time. Your parents thought it was haunted due to some of the goings-on, and when you were young, so did you.

The cat, of course, doesn’t care about your stance, still staring unblinkingly down the hallway, slowly looking up and happily purring at some unseen force. After having already been here a few weeks, you couldn’t bring yourself to pay it any mind. You don’t even jump when the stairs groan behind you. Instead, you simply proceed through the creaky wooden-floored halls to your bed, and promptly get undressed, flop down face first, and pass out for the night.

It’s late at the very least when you awake again. Tired, sleepy-eyed, and with an unfamiliar noise echoing through the empty vistas of darkness around you. Distinctly of a man crying. The cat is going ballistic, scratching at the door. You’re still entirely nude in bed, hugging at your comforter and trying your best not to make any excess noise.

You stared at the exit to your room, still not quite sure what you’re hearing. The voice sounds familiar, tugging at some unseen strings in your mind. You had been living there alone for the past several months, your nearest neighbors being miles away. It was near impossible for this sort of thing to be happening. Stranger still was the insistent notion that the noise was coming from within the house.

Covering yourself up with nothing more than a too-long sweatshirt and some tiny shorts that hug at your hips, you managed to drag yourself up from under the covers to tiptoe across the creaky wooden floors. You nearly jump with each loud noise the boards made as they settle underneath you.

Your steps are barely illuminated by the full moon leaking through the old windows. You’re reminded of sleepless, late nights in childhood summers when you’d sneak out to the pond, having to walk past that very room without waking up your parents.

Following your ears, your heartbeat soared as they lead you not to your doorstep, but your old room at the end of the hall. You had since turned it into an art studio. You questioned whether you left your computer or tablet on as some soft, blue, spectral light leaked from just past the barely ajar door. The noise was louder than ever, but the crying seemed to be dying down. Hopefully whatever is within had not quite heard you yet.

Overwhelmed by curiosity yet still taken by fear, you gently pushed at the door. Each inch it moved was like a mile in your mind, and with each passing moment, the thing you feared most was the door’s hinges squeaking.

Just barely looking inside the tiny gap, you finally see him. A semi-translucent man glowing a soft blue was crumpled on the floor. Wearing a torn shirt that was once white but had since been stained with years of dirt and grime, ripped down the back edges. His high-waisted pants seemed to be similarly stained, almost looking like fashion from another era.

Your hands tremble, as you near stumble back at the sight. As you slowly approach the figure, you can finally make out the little sniveling whispers coming from his mouth. “Why can’t things just go back to the way they were… she’s back… but she can’t even…”

Something clicks in your mind as you whisper a name, still staring from your darkened corner. “Chan?” He slowly looked up, his eyes white, featureless and glowing. He gasps at the sight of you… and you shriek at the sight of him, falling backward and landing bottom first on the ground. You crawl back across the floor, not quite daring to take your eyes off of the spectral man inside of your home, yet some strange insistence that you remember him seems to take over.

He doesn’t seem to be crying anymore, although his voice is still shaky and saddened. He’s still quick, and that old twenties manner of speaking had not faded a bit. “You… can see me now? Why are you scared? I missed you…” He gets up, tears still staining his pale cheeks. His expression only carries with it an immense worry, not quite sure what to make of your presence.

You shook your head, staring at something that should not be, something that your rationality was demanding you not see. His demeanor carried with it some level of calm, and past your initial terror even serves to invoke the feeling in you as well.

He’s rather cute, now that you get a look at him. That feeling of familiarity gnaws at you though, you can swear you had seen that face somewhere, long ago. “I’m sorry, I just… this can’t be real. You’re Chan. Am I dreaming?”

The ghost smiles, offering you his hand. “And it’s been a good while since you waltzed those pretty little stems outta here. I told you, it’s me. This is real. I’m real.” He offers a nervous little laugh, sniffling and wiping his face on his sleeve. “Now quit staring, you’re startin’ to make make me nervous about my good looks.”

You sigh, shrugging for a moment before you grab his surprisingly corporeal hand and let his surprising strength drag you to your feet, enfolding you straight into a tight hug. He feels a little damp, but it doesn’t get into your clothes, and it’s as nice and cool as the fall air. All of a sudden, you felt yourself tearing up. In an almost whimpering, near breaking voice, “I missed you too, you know.”

You squeeze him a little harder, dwelling on all the nights spent by the lake or just staying up late and talking in your room. You later had thought yourself crazy for it, but now you have some form of validation, at least in your mind.

His arms hold you nice and tight, one firmly holding you around your back. The other hand gently moves through your hair, his nails working across the back of your head and neck. He rubs his head against yours just the tiniest bit, and you start to feel him float off of the ground for a few moments.

You happily nuzzle back into him, sniffling and wiping the tears leftover from your tender embrace out of your face. Your eyes close for a moment before you withdraw, blushing and just a little worked up. It seems that being in such close quarters with someone like him, especially when pre-existing feelings are there, might have you a tad worked up.

Chan chuckled, looking you up and down as his legs moved up into the air behind him, the boy leaning forward and freely floating in the air. His finger gently boops you on the nose as he starts to smirk. “Boy, you haven’t changed a bit have you? Still blushing at the slightest of touches, huh?”

Chan observes you for a moment, before letting his body move through the air behind you to put his hands on your shoulders, resting his chin on your neck. “As flattering as it’d be though, I’m not even sure I’d believe it myself. Some cute little thing like yourself has better business than to be stuck on a dead guy.” His voice was cheerful but carried some measure of bittersweet sadness.

You stutter for a moment, not quite having a response to the ghostly man’s… flirting? You finally gulp, and manage to get a hold on your words, not daring to move… you do feel comfortable in his grasp. “Not exactly,” you mutter out. No matter how you try to speak, your voice came out tense and nervous.

Chan raises a brow, reeling back for a second. “Y’know I was only messing with you right? But…” Hhe rests his forehead against yours, wrapping his arms around the back of your neck and looking up at you. “But if you wanted, I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing to take advantage of this empty house.”

He smirked, pushing you backwards a few steps until you were right up against the wall of the hallway. Trapped between Chan’s cold, slim, ethereal form and the century-old walls of your childhood home.

You stay there, mouth nearly agape, spellbound by the man who just wrapped himself around you. Your thoughts were racing, you couldn’t even formulate a reply other than just shakily resting your hands on his hips, feeling his body effortlessly move through the air in front of you. You simply hold him a little closer, your blush getting a bit deeper as you try to find somewhere to rest your gaze.

He happily wiggles your hips in his grasp before letting one of his hands move up your midriff and underneath your loose hanging sweatshirt. He chuckles as those fingers find nothing but skin, moving upwards to your breasts. The fabric hikes up with Chan’s wrists, and the ghost smirks as he cups one of your soft mounds of flesh.

You attempt to gasp at the feeling, but your words are quickly muffled by Chan’s soft lips as he passionately kisses you. His lashes flutter before his eyes close, and you find the same happened to you. You lose yourself in the lips of your childhood crush as he works desperately at your breast while brushing the back of your neck.

Chan brings his mouth along your cheek and down to your neck, the sensation of his fingers sinking into your sensitive chest still sending tiny little waves of heat through your body. His lips were like velvet across your skin, and you feel his ethereal energy spread across your skin with each skilled movement of his mouth.

He delivers kiss after kiss in a line towards your collarbone before suddenly he bites down. Chan sucks hard at your skin and the stinging sensation of a hickey forming at the base of your neck becomes apparent and only drives you further into the depths of lust. His breath plays across your skin, just colder than the fall breeze around you.

By that point you had tossed aside any notion of decency, your hands grabbing a little lower on the spectral man’s hips, feeling the plush pillow of his backside through those high-waisted pants. With each passing moment of his ministrations, you have to stifle little gasps and attempt to fix your stunted breath, all for naught. You had truly lost yourself to his wiles.

His eyes seemed to have gained pupils of the purest, deepest black while you weren’t looking, staring up at you in some doe-eyed gaze. He peels his lips off of your skin to speak. “You know, if you wanted that you could’ve just asked.” His free hand takes itself off of the back of your neck, to simply raise in the air and snap. All at once his clothes shred themselves to pieces, decaying at a rapid rate and falling off of his body until they’re nothing but floating dust the same blue as he was.

All at once you’re graced with the appearance of his naked form. A slightly toned abdomen, broad shoulders offset by a smooth chest. You dared to look down, noticing his half hardened member.

Before you know it, his free hand had since moved down your hips and effortlessly pulled down your shorts, letting the little garment fall to the floor around your ankles and expose your sex to the chilly fall air. He takes his hand off of your breast to let it slide down your sides, down to the rounded curvature of your backside. Instead of a gentle caress, Chan offers one little squeeze, chuckling and looking up at you with a playful smile.

All at once his face lowers down to your thighs, his body accommodating and lowering itself as well. All at once you can feel the cold air of his breath on your sex in a way that makes you shiver. One hand moves between your thighs to spread the flesh of your folds and further expose your needy core to the open air, barely lubricated and just flushing with the beginnings of arousal.

Chan licks his lips before his tongue slinks out of his mouth. He giggles for a moment before the tip of it just tickles at the entrance to your sex. It laps circles around your needy entrance, just brushing past your clit and sometimes tracing little circles along its outline.

The ghost has to have noticed your stifled moans and gasps by this point, you’re practically clawing the walls. You manage to gain some composure, your hand now on the back of his head. You breathe deeply, wanting or perhaps needing that inhuman tongue inside you.

Your fingers scritch a little behind Chan’s ear, before shoving his face between your thighs. You squeeze hard at the feeling of that organ moving as deep as it will go inside you. His breath only gets faster and faster now, excited by the way you’re handling him.

You feel your thighs tremble, pleasure coursing through you as he manipulates your body. With a teasing kiss against your throbbing clit he moves from the ground, holding you up against the wall. He captures your lips in a kiss, fingers tracing the marks he left against your once perfect skin.

He sinks his cock inside of you, his body feeling as hard and firm as any natural one would. You both sigh out at the feeling, his cold breath mixing with your warm one. Your legs wrapped around his narrow hips, anchoring yourself to the spectral form. The muscles of your core tighten around him as your fingers pick up where his tongue left off.

His hands dig into your hips, moving your body along his length as you whimper in unison. You can barely breathe with how quickly you were panting, the air around you feeling almost suffocating with heat and passion.

You can feel it in your core, the orgasm slowly building up within with the relentless thrusts of his cock. Each one brings with it enough force to shake the walls. Carelessly you let it build, threatening to overtake you any moment now.

Both of you were shuddering, tongue intertwined in an attempt to muffle the never ending streams of moans that you both emitted. Your legs squeezed harder around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of you. You were dangerously close to your climax, the taunt string inside of you was pulled so tight you could almost count the seconds till you spilled over.

He bit down on your shoulder to stifle a groan and that was it. You felt your orgasm wash over you, that familiar, gentle warmth rushing all around your body. Your legs gave out beneath you, causing you to let go of the ghostly man in front of you and fall against his body. He spilled inside of you, the glowing substance was cool inside of your heated body.

You both sink to the ground, sliding against the wall as he finally pulled out of your core. His body slowly moves back up into the air, and he smiles dumbly in your direction, before pulling you up with him. He spoke up again, not even giving you time to truly respond, especially in your current exhausted state.

The only noise you were capable of really making were tiny little whimpers. “I missed you so much, I’m happy I could give you something of what you wanted at least once. I used up a lot of energy there, so I can’t really…” Chan was cut off by his voice fading into nothingness, his body slowly becoming more and more translucent, before his becomes invisible again altogether.

Looking out the window, dawn was peeking up over the mountains outside… somehow you were up all night, or maybe it was just close to morning? Either way, tired would be an understatement to truly describe how you’re feeling. Your eyes rebelliously drift closed as black overtakes your vision, leaving you passed out on the hard floor.

The sound of your alarm going off was the first thing you heard when you awaken, and yourself off of the covers of your bed… wait, your bed? You raise a brow as you experience a sense of displacement upon awakening in the same position on top of your own covers, the cat still nestled at the foot of the mattress.

You sat up, blinking and taking in the reality of what this might mean. Tears form in your eyes as you hug yourself and fall backward atop your pillows… only to feel a stinging sensation on the side of your neck. You press inward on the mark, only for the feeling to intensify with aching pain. Surely it was a bruise, but you rush to the bathroom regardless.

You fling the door open and don’t even care that the knob slams into the wall. You brush your hair aside to inspect it in the mirror over the sink. It takes a moment to realize the implications of what you witness. Sure enough, it’s a hickey, small marks of teeth and fingerprints mark your skin. Your eyes widen as you stare in disbelief.

Through the mirror though, you notice something else peeking from behind the shower curtain, a pale hand glowing with some faint blue light. All of a sudden the curtains are shoved aside to reveal the translucent form of Chan. He laughs wholeheartedly, staring at you through the mirror, smiling nice and wide. “Y’know, I think somethin 'bout last night made me a bit more permanent. I hope I didn’t scare you too much.”

#dino smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #dino #chan #lee chan smut #lee chan #writing tag #halloween 2019

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