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babyboibucky · 3 years

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The Match - Part 9

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky brings you and Mackenzie with him to an important meeting.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Uhhhh hmm work tension, sexual tension, idk Bucky and Mackenzie being annoying as usual lmao

A/N: ALSO I know I haven’t mentioned what the fuck Bucky’s company is all about because c’mon, I didn’t expect I’d get this far lmao so IDK there might be continuity issues or inaccuracies or whatevah, just ignore it lmao it’s fiction. ANYWAAAY, I just want to say how GRATEFUL AND OVERWHELMED I am with the amount of attention that this series is getting. I appreciate every feedback, every ask and every freaking debate about this shit lmfao. I love you guys. I can’t put into words how much I appreciate you all askcnasjkcnak bye

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Don't let Bucky or Mackenzie get to you.

Mark's advice rang in your ears like a chant as you watched Bucky and Mackenzie's exchange about the project. Joining them in the conference room for a major brainstorming session was you and a couple of people from your team with Beverly taking down the minutes of the meeting.

The upcoming project was a huge one, given that Barnes Group of Companies was a huge name in the automobile industry. Meanwhile, Wilson Enterprises is one of the biggest autonomous vehicle technology companies out there. This partnership was one for the books, possibly an industry changer too.

You wanted to be a part of it, wanted to spearhead the entire thing and watching Mackenzie take the reigns on this one was truly making your blood boil.

"That sounds like a nice idea, Kenzie." Bucky praised, nodding his head.

Mackenzie shrugged, "It's what I do, Buck." she said.

"Yeah, it's a great idea. I do have some comments though, if you don't mind?" you asked.

Bucky and Mackenzie exchanged glances before turning to you. You glanced at Bucky for a quick second before ignoring the way he was eyeing you with genuine interest.

"I know that bringing in a celebrity to endorse this brand new model would definitely create noise around the partnership. Although I think that would take the spotlight away from the actual product we're creating here. We want customers to focus on the brand new car model and the technology that Wilson Enterprises will be providing it with, not on the celebrity endorser." you explained.

Mackenzie hummed, "I get where you are coming from. That's a good point, actually. But a celebrity endorser will pretty much do everything for the brand. Have him up on billboards and different advertisements and you're all set." she further explained.

You chuckled, "But then how will people understand what the entire partnership is all about? Aren't we supposed to be communicating a certain message to our consumers? Wouldn't it be better to hold an event to launch the product instead? Invite the press and key opinion leaders to spread the word. Have Bucky and Mister Wilson talk about this partnership. They're famous and powerful enough to get the message across. Why waste the budget on a celebrity when we literally have everything we need to make noise?" you shrugged.

The entire room was silent after your feedback, even Mackenzie wasn't able to respond to your suggestion. Glancing over at Bucky, you saw that he was giving you the look-- the one with half-lidded eyes matched with a head tilt, the one that often resulted to him giving you a very nice reward once office hours are over.

Feeling your breath hitch in your throat, you quickly looked away and shrugged your shoulders, "I mean, that's just my two cents. Having worked here for years, I just based it on my experience. You're the expert here, Mackenzie." you offered a proud smile.

Mackenzie tried to brush it off and turned to Bucky, "What do you think, Buck? I'm still into the idea of hiring a celebrity. That's good publicity. And let's not get worried about the budget now," she said, placing a hand on top of Bucky's that was resting on the table, "I have a lot of connections so I can definitely get an endorser for a much lower rate." she reassured.

"We may have a huge budget for this, but that doesn't automatically mean that we have to use it all up. We can allocate it somewhere else, maybe start a CSR campaign as well? We are, after all, coming out with an environmental-friendly model." you suggested.

You heard Bucky when he took a sharp inhale, bringing his hands up to rub his lips as if in deep thought. He then turned to Beverly, however, his eyes remained on you.

"Take note of everything she says." he reminded her before standing up.

He asked everyone else in the room of their opinions, whether it was your or Mackenzie's idea that the company will go for. The team was divided in half, some of them preferring Mackenzie's celebrity pitch probably because they didn't want to do a lot of work.

Bucky nodded, "Well, I guess we'll have to discuss both ideas with my partner Sam and let's see where we will go from there. I have a meeting with him this afternoon, I need you and Kenzie with me there." he said, looking at your before turning to Kenzie with a charming smile.

Don't let them get to you.

You've never wanted for the ground to swallow you up until this moment as you stood behind Bucky and Mackenzie in the elevator. This felt so much more uncomfortable than when you shared it with Bucky after swiping right with him on Tinder. There was still tension and it felt so much worse now because you didn't know whether it was between you and Bucky or him and Mackenzie.

Fucking Mackenzie and her nicely manicured nails which always seemed find its way around Bucky's arm. You eyed her hands as they squeezed his arm, the both of them talking in hushed voices as if you weren't standing behind them.

"I've been dying to try this restaurant, I heard they serve good food. Do you want to go have dinner there sometime this week?" she asked Bucky.

"I'll check my schedule, which restaurant is this?" he asked.

When Mackenzie uttered the name of that restaurant where you celebrated your promotion, you and Bucky choked on your own spits at the same time. Warmth crept up to your cheeks at the same time Bucky's ears reddened.

"Oh, what's going on?" Mackenzie asked with a nervous chuckle as she looked at you and Bucky, struggling with your coughs.

You recovered first and shook your head, "Sorry, I get allergies. Anyway, I've been to that restaurant. They do serve good food, the staff was very hospitable as well. I'm sure Bucky would enjoy it there." you said with a smile, pushing your way past them when the elevators door slid open.

Mackenzie asking Bucky whether he was up for dinner was the last thing you heard. Good luck explaining to her why he's banned from there, you thought to yourself.

Bucky led the way to his car and it instantly brought certain memories back. You weren't going to lie, you missed the fucking and how Bucky always made sure to take care of your needs. Seeing his car was enough to make your thighs clench at the memory of him fingering you as he drove.

His gaze was on you when he opened the door to the passenger's seat, his eyes inviting as you approached him. And just as when you were about to slip in, he turned over to Mackenzie and gestured for her to get in.

What a fucking asshole, you thought to yourself as you took a step back to ride in the back instead. You tried to keep your expression stoic when you saw that Bucky checked for a reaction. He seemed perplexed when he saw that you didn't react that much to what he did.

One hundred points to Gryffindor.

The location for the meeting was at a nearby restaurant so you didn't suffer that much during the entire ride. Mackenzie was busy with her phone anyway, typing out messages with those manicured fingers you were beginning to hate.

By the time all three of you arrived, Sam was already there. He donned a navy blue suit and he was rocking it. You'd seen his photos on the internet and knew that he was good-looking, but seeing him in the flesh, you were stunned at how gorgeous he was. Sam stood up when he saw Bucky, offering a kind smile to you and Mackenzie.

You weren't sure whether you were just being assuming or what, but you noticed how his eyes lingered on you longer that it did with Mackenzie.

"Sam." Bucky greeted, shaking his hand before introducing you and Mackenzie.

Sam shook Mackenzie's hand first before he turned to you. You took his hand and introduced yourself, "Mister Wilson." you said.

"Please, just Sam." he told you as he gently squeezed your hand before letting go.

"Have a seat." Sam said to Bucky and Mackenzie before pulling out the chair next to him, motioning for you to sit down.

You thanked him and sat down; straightening up, you were met with Bucky's watchful gaze as he sat down across you. Your attention was taken away when Sam asked what you wanted to order, he even suggested a certain dish and immediately went to discuss that it was his favorite thing to order.

This was going to be an interesting meeting.

And interesting it truly was, because you didn't expect for Sam to be so laid-back and easy to communicate with. He wasn't one of those uptight CEOs who were very intimidating to work with. Simply put, he was the complete opposite of Bucky. While Bucky was ice cold, Sam was sunshine and warmth with his attitude.

When it came down to pitching your and Mackenzie's ideas to him, you suddenly got nervous. Sam wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth; from what you've read, he started off working regular jobs before he climbed his way to the top. He was a self-made man and he had extensive knowledge in the marketing industry, having a doctorate degree in the said area.

Mackenzie was the first to discuss her strategy about hiring a celebrity endorser. She said it was fast and straight to the point. When it was your turn, you started off a bit shaky but eventually found your pacing.

"We wanted to ask you how this should go on about. I know that the offer for a partnership came from our end and that we're supposed to pitch the details for it. But we wanted you to be involved in this as much as we are." Bucky further explained.

Sam nodded and let out an amused chuckle, "I really appreciate this, Buck. I was going to ask you if I can contribute with the planning as well. I'm very particular when it comes to marketing our products." he said.

"That being said, I loved both ideas. I think hiring a celebrity endorser is good." he said, making Mackenzie smile proudly.

"But I would rather hold an event to launch the product. You understand the product and what we want to do with it. It's not just a brand new car, it's an innovation and the messaging is very important. I'm very impressed." Sam said, his attention geared towards you.

"Wow, I'm honored." you laughed. "Coming from you, I mean I've read about the marketing studies you did. Pretty big deal to receive a compliment from you." you admitted.

It was meant to be a genuine reaction, really. You had no ill intentions for it, you didn't do it to make Bucky jealous or get the upper hand. However, your passion for your career and area of expertise seemed to favor you. It had Bucky on edge, seeing you and Sam get along so well.

You didn't even need to check for Bucky's reaction because he simply cleared his throat and excused himself to go to the restroom. Mackenzie seemed unbothered though, when Sam favored your pitch over hers. You couldn't read her, sometimes she'd come off competitive but right now, she was unaffected.

When Bucky got back, he was quick to finalize the meeting, "I guess it's a done deal then. We'll work on the details of the launch and maybe we can set another meeting for the major presentation for your approval?" he asked Sam.

"That sounds like a plan. I'm looking forward to working with you." Sam told everyone, although he did seem to be directly addressing you.

"Alright, I'm leaving too." Mackenzie announced after Sam left the restaurant.

"Oh, you're not heading back to the office with us?" Bucky asked.

Mackenzie shook her head, throwing her bag over her shoulder, "I have another meeting. You know how it is with freelance work." she said as all three of you stood up to head outside of the restaurant.

"My Uber's here, I guess I'll see you both sometime this week." she said and waved at you before turning to Bucky and pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm counting on that dinner, okay?" she reminded before slipping into her Uber, leaving you and Bucky to head back to the office together.

Alone with Bucky. In his car. The exact same car where plenty of fucking happened. Again, you chanted Mark’s advice in your head over and over again.

Don’t let Bucky get to you. And most of all, don’t cave in.

You quickly slipped inside the front seat of Bucky’s car before he could even open it up for you. The air was thick between you and Bucky and it almost felt like it was suffocating you. Reaching for the seatbelt, you tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge. Cursing to yourself, you tried again but to no avail.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing. Seatbelt’s just stuck.” you grunted, using both your hands to pull down at it.

“Here, let me.”

Suddenly, Bucky reached over to your seatbelt and tried to fix it. His face was inches away from yours and you literally felt your insides jump at how you were immediately drowned in his perfume. If you moved forward so much as half an inch, your lips would already be pressing against the corner of Bucky’s mouth. And that thought was sending your senses into overdrive.

Do not. Cave. In.

The loud click of the seatbelt made you relax and thank goodness that Bucky was quick to move away from you, fixing his suit before starting the engine. The office may just be nearby but the fact that you and Bucky were together was making it feel like it was going to be an hour-long drive.

“So what do you think about Sam?” Bucky asked out of the blue.

He was gauging you, trying to get a reaction from you. Maybe he was expecting you to be flirty with your response, or be defensive even? You weren’t going to give him that.

“I think he’s great. Like I said, I’ve read his marketing studies and they were very insightful. I learned a lot.”

Plain, simple and safe. There was no hidden meanings and no malice; you were doing great at this whole not letting Bucky get to you thing. You made a mental note to thank Mark for his advice.

“He seems interested in you.” Bucky said again, shrugging his shoulders a bit and trying to be as nonchalant as he could.

“Well we are in the same field of expertise and I was very straightforward about admiring his skills. I’d be disappointed if he brushed off my ideas.” you slightly chuckled.

“I liked Mackenzie’s idea better, honestly.” Bucky blurted out.

By this time, you had Bucky’s plans figured out. He was coming for your job, using it as a bait to get a reaction out from you. He knew how much your career meant for you, how competitive you were in your field. Whenever his other tactics wouldn’t work, he’d always go for the career aspect.

“It was good.” you agreed, turning to Bucky with a small smile. “I think we can do that for other campaigns. Just not with this partnership. I like her.” you said.

“You do?” Bucky asked in surprise before he cleared his throat upon realizing that he sort of broke his facade.

You shrugged, “She’s a headstrong woman. She reminds me of myself actually.”

If you were alone, you would have given yourself a high-five because that statement truly made Bucky think. His forehead creased as he drove, his hand rubbing his chin and his jaw clenching as if he was in deep thought.

It was silent inside the car for a brief moment, before it was interrupted by the trilling of Bucky’s phone. He fished it out of his pocket but before he could even answer it, it slipped out of his hand and disappeared beneath his seat.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed, both his hands on the steering wheel as he continued to drive, his attention divided between driving and searching for his ringing phone.

“Shit.” he hissed again, not knowing how to get his phone while driving. He quickly glanced at you before focusing on the road again. “Baby, can you get it for me?”

You almost missed the term of endearment. Almost. It was obviously a slip of the tongue because he genuinely didn’t seem to realize that he called you that. Bucky was more focused on the road rather than processing what he just said. You chose to ignore it the same way you did to the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Yeah, okay.” you said and reached over to him, bending down to look for his phone.

In a split second, your face was right in front of Bucky’s crotch as you tried to reach beneath his car seat. You tried to ignore the bulge that was staring right at you and let your hand do the searching.

“Can you reach it?” Bucky asked.

You straightened up, “No. Can you pull aside?” you asked.

Bucky checked the surroundings and then the rearview mirror, “We can’t. We’re at a no loading and unloading zone.” he explained.

The phone continues to trill and it doesn’t seem like it would stop any time now. You sighed and removed your seatbelt before stretching your body over Bucky, slipping underneath his arms on the steering wheel so you can fully reach under his seat.

From another car’s view, you looked like you were giving him a blowjob. Not that you haven’t done that before, in this same car.

Finally, you felt his phone at the tip of your fingers and stretched further, your free hand coming to grip Bucky’s thigh unintentionally. It was only when you felt his muscles flex beneath his trousers that you realized how near your hand was to his crotch.

“Did you,” Bucky cleared his throat. “Did you get it?” he stammered.

You still have a certain effect on him, how very nice. Biting back a smirk, you hummed in response before pulling back and then handing him his phone casually. Mackenzie’s name was flashing on the screen as the phone continued to ring.

“Sorry, can you answer it and put it on speakerphone?” Bucky asked again.

You shrugged and did as you were told, holding the phone near Bucky as he continued to drive.

“Hey, Kenzie. Sorry, I dropped my phone. What’s up?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, so my meeting got cancelled at the last minute. I was thinking maybe we can grab that dinner tonight instead?”

Bucky stole a quick glance from you but your face remained stoic, your hand steady as you held out his phone.

“Sure, how does around 7pm sound? I can pick you up.” Bucky offered.

“Sounds great. So are we checking that restaurant I was talking about?”

Bucky’s ears turned red again but he quickly recovered, “I was thinking of trying out a different one. I honestly didn’t like their dessert.”

Huh, that was weird. You and Bucky didn’t even make it to--

Fuck, he was talking about you, you realized. Clenching your jaw, you tried to keep calm. He was trying to get a rise out of you, don’t give in. Don’t react. Bucky’s conversation with Mackenzie didn’t last long and ended when they settled the location for their dinner.

The ride back to the office was quiet again, until your phone lit up from a notification. Bucky was already parking in the basement when you checked your phone, an audible gasp slipping past your lips upon reading the notification from LinkedIn.

Samuel Wilson wants to connect with you.

The Match Special Tags:

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Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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lipstickstainedred · 3 years

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Champagne 1 🥂 (dark!Steve X Reader)

So this is my first time writing in a super long time and I’m so excited for people to hopefully read it haha. This is going to be a series and it is a total slow burn. Lots of angst and there will be eventual smut. I’ll try to add warnings for each chapter just because as I write this story more warnings may need to be added.

I want to give a shout out to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for being just an amazing human. Thanks for helping me work through some ideas for this series and helping me make necessary edits.

This work also will eventually qualify for the @basementwiveswritingchallenge.

If you would like to be added to the taglist please just drop me an ask. :)

Word count: 1318

Warnings: angst, DUB-CON/NON-CON (eventual), smut (eventual) NSFW (eventual), violence (eventual), kidnapping (eventual)

A few months ago you started a new job as an assistant rep for a marketing and advertising company. This was your first REAL job! Of course, you had had other jobs but nothing like this. Prior to this job you had worked as the occasional babysitter, worked at coffee shops, or grocery stores. Nothing of substance or promise, until now. You had almost cried when you had gotten the job, having little to no experience.

You didn’t grow up privileged but you were always taught that if you kept your head down and worked hard, you could create a better future for yourself. And that’s what you had done, despite being in and out of foster homes for the better part of 10 years, you kept your head down, got decent grades in school, did well at your previous jobs, and was even able to pay for some business and marketing classes down at the local community college.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Your blouse and skirt unrealistically tight against your slightly sweaty skin. The outfit fit you correctly but your nerves made it feel uncomfortably snug. This was the first time you’ve worn some of your new work clothes.

“I apologize for the wait, they are ready for you now.” The busty blonde assistant said approaching your boss and snapping you out of your thoughts.

Your boss, Phil, glanced over at you and the couple other coworkers present for the pitch meeting. It was a huge deal for your company. Stark Industries was a multimillion conglomerate and if this ad proposal went well, all advertising and marketing jobs would be contracted through your company exclusively. It would be a big account and make your boss and your boss’s boss a pretty penny.

All of your team gathered the materials needed for the pitch. You followed closely behind Phil with your notebook and pen in hand. Since you were new, barely having your foot in the door of the marketing worlds, you were a glorified note taker at the moment.

“Right in here.” The assistant ushered your boss and you into the elegant conference room as the rest of your team followed. As you walked into the room, you stumbled nearly tripping over your heels. Stupid uncomfortable shoes.

You straightened back up and readjusted your skirt that had ridden up a tiny bit. Feeling eyes on you, you glanced around the room of lawyers, accountants, and assistants. Seated at the other end of the long conference table was none other than Tony Stark himself! You had no idea that your team's meeting was important enough for Mr. Stark to actually attend.

You still felt someone watching you, someone unseen. Your eyes fell on the man seated next to Stark; Captain America. Your breath caught as you realised he was staring directly at you. You catch the slight smirk on his lips. He must have been the only person to see you trip.

Everyone else was looking through paperwork and making casual introductions.

Your breath hitched as Steve Rogers’ eyes took you in, traveling up and down your body, before meeting your gaze. You averted your eyes away from his turning toward your boss to help him set up the presentation.

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

As Phil and some coworkers pitched their plan, you took notes of any important details your boss would want to review over later. Occasionally, you felt someone’s eyes burning holes straight through you.

You tried to ignore it but against your better judgment you glanced up to find the same blue eyes looking you over. It was extremely unsettling and for the second time today you wished you were wearing something more comfortable, something less tight.

“I like you people!” Tony exclaimed, as the meeting drew to an end. Standing from his chair he continued, “The ideas you pitched are innovation and exciting, I like it. Just give us a few moments to discuss, and we’ll let you know our thoughts.”

Instead of asking your team to leave the room, Tony and Steve along with what you would guess to be a couple of lawyers and accountants just spoke in semi-hushed tones huddled on their side of the conference room. Your team gathered their things with their eyes elsewhere, as to give them privacy.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to take your eyes off the first avenger. His eyes flickered over to you as he spoke with Stark, diverting your gaze as your cheeks warmed.

As if on cue, Tony stole a glance your way, as if Steve had said something about you. Realizing staring at these two men was a bad idea, you joined in the conversation your boss and coworker were having beside you.

“Well, we are all set.” Tony stood up, clapping his hands together. “We are having our lawyers draw up all the contracts now. We at Stark Industries really value teamwork and accessibility. So I’ve made the executive decision to do things a little differently with this agreement. Normally I wouldn’t require this but we really need dedicated staff here on sight.”

“Requiring all of our team on sight? That would be a little difficult to swing with the higher ups, Mr Stark. Our team currently has 3 other contracts we manage.” Phil said, seeming a bit confused by Stark’s announcement.

“That’s exactly my point.” Stark explained. “I need a dedicated team focused solely on our needs. Your company has plenty of other people to manage those contracts. If you want to sign on with us, I need your full attention to be on Stark Industries.”

“Ok.” Phil sighed, “We should be able to have another sector absorb our current contracts.”

“Great!” Stark exclaimed, “So we will be expecting ALL of you to be signed on as consultants as part of the contract. That just means that your team will be exclusively working on Stark Industry projects from now on. You’ll each be getting a desk and/or office down in our marketing department.”

Your boss shook Tony’s hand as everyone in the room clapped that the deal went through. You joined in, a little shocked from Tony’s change in plan. Normally, as contractors you would work in your office building where all the employees worked.

Instead, your boss, you and your three other coworkers would drop all other projects to work with Stark Industries alone. You wondered if it had something to do with what Steve said to Tony, but quickly shook that thought way. They probably just want to make sure you were dedicated to their company.

It wasn’t until your boss called your name that you returned to reality. You hadn’t noticed that Tony had his assistant bring in a few bottles of champagne and some glasses.

“Y/N do you want a glass?” your boss asked.

“Um sure. Thanks.” You mumbled, taking the champagne flute from his hand.

“Cheers,” Captain America said, raising his glass as everyone followed suit. You lifted your glass as well, eyes trained on him as he continued his toast. “To new relationships.” He added with a subtle smirk, his icy blue eyes gazing straight into yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, unsure of why his words made you so nervous. He averted his eyes and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Business relationships, That is.” He chuckled and so did the rest of the room. His laughter spread contagiously.

Bringing the bubbling liquid to your lips you took a small sip. It was absolutely delicious. Probably the most expensive drink you’d ever had. The rest of the room continued to celebrate and talk boisterously about ideas while you and all of your team signed the contracts required by Tony.

As you left Stark Tower, you couldn’t help but feel weird. Despite the success of the meeting, you couldn’t help but wonder why you felt so on edge?

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #dark fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #marvel fanfiction #steve rodgers x reader #dubcon/noncon #basementwife

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love-and-other-potions · 3 years

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Confrontations

Lee Jordan x Reader

You're on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You're friends with the twins. You're hanging out with them on the Quidditch pitch before the game against Hufflepuff. Lee Jordan, the twins' friend, comes and talks to the twins for a few minutes. He chats and laughs with them, but before he leaves, he turns to speak to you.

"Hey (Y/N), listen to the announcements."

Then he winks and saunters away.

Oh no. He's going to say something about you in front of the whole school because of the prank the twins had convinced you to join in on.

The twins had convinced you to write 'Secret Admirer' letters to Lee because he knew their script, but wouldn't recognize yours. These letters arrived to him at breakfast for a week straight. But then he had to sit next to you in Transfiguration and saw your notes. Needless to say, he wasn't happy. That was the first time he had spoken to you since then.

You had tried telling him that the twins had convinced you to do it, but the twins had said that it was your idea. You're a little upset with them, but you have to love them; their jokes was one of the many reasons you became friends with them.

So you nervously anticipate the game and what Lee is going to say. It was the middle of the game, after you shot the Quaffle straight through the Hufflepuff Keeper's hands, that Lee said what he had warned you about.

"Another ten points scored by my gorgeous lover (Y/N) (L/N). Hey Babe, meet me in the Common Room later."

Everyone on the stands laugh and give cat calls. George looks at you and grins. Fred winks at you. Oh my gods, they believe the git!

McGonagall screeches, "Now is not the time to advertise your love life, Jordan!"

"Sorry, Professor, I was making it known that (Y/N) (M/N) (L/N) owns my heart and they're mine," he replies back to McGonagall- straight into the microphone.

You face palm. But you have to admit, this topped your little joke by a long shot. Everyone is laughing and now wolf whistling. Damn you Lee.

Later in the Common Room, everyone is celebrating the victory over Hufflepuff. You climb through the potrait hole and immediately see Lee.

"Can I speak to you alone?"

"Sure," he says before he turns to everyone else and says, "Hang on, everyone. My lover wants to see me alone."

Everyone smiles, cat calls, or wolf whistles.

Someone yells, "Use protection, Jordan!" and it sounded an awful like Fred or George. You'll kill them later.

As the potrait hole closes, Lee immediately says, "Don't hit me."

Wow, Fred and George must've told him the stories about what you did after they pranked you.

You roll your eyes.

"I'm not going to hit you. I wanted to grudgingly tell you that you topped me. You win. Great job, Lee. Now how are we going to fix this?"

"You're just going to accept that I won? And what do you mean 'fix this'?"

"Yes, I'll be mature enough to admit it to you. But I still have a couple tricks up my sleeve. And I mean 'fix it' because everyone thinks we're together now and we're obviously not."

"Or we could make it true," he says and winks at you.

"Lee Jordan, is that your way of asking me out?"

"Depends on your answer."

"I expect you to beg me for you to be my boyfriend."

"You want me to beg you?"

"Yes."

You smile wickedly.

"No way. I'm not begging."

"I guess you don't want to be my boyfriend. Darn. Oh well. Just think of all those hugs... kisses..." he gulps, "and protection."

He groans.

"I really don't like you sometimes."

"Aw, Lee, you know how to make a person feel loved."

He glares at you.

He gets down on his knees and takes your hands in his.

"(Y/N) (L/N), please do me the honor of letting me be your boyfriend. You'd make me the happiest man at Hogwarts."

"Yes."

He gets up off the ground.

"Now about those kisses...."

He pins you up against the wall beside the potrait hole and snogs you.

The Fat Lady interrupts you by saying, "Are you two gonna go back into the Common Room anytime soon?"

You both jump apart, but he leans his forehead against yours.

"Merlin, I think I'm the luckiest person in Hogwarts."

He grins like an idiot and gives you a peck on the lips. He grabs your hand, says the password, and pulls you through the portrait hole.

Everyone looks at you expectantly. You make a show of limping as you enter. Questions fly to you as you and Lee just stand there. You have no idea where they are coming from.

"Man, that was short!"

"How big is he?"

You look at Lee and he's smirking.

You lean in and whisper to him, "I could tell everyone right now that you're smaller than my pinkie."

He glares at you.

"You really want to know how big he is?" you ask everyone.

You hear a loud chorus of "Yes!"

"Well, let's put it this way: only his tip went in and I'm limping."

You wink at Lee's surprised and pleased face.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sleep this pain off."

Everyone makes a path for you and you make a big show of limping towards the dorms. Everyone's silent until Lee says his goodnight.

"Good night, my gorgeous lover."

#lee jordan #lee jordan x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Text

Letter 10: 🐆 An Arm and a Leg 🐆

A letter arrives in the mail. Well... you assume it was meant to be a letter). Had it not come in an envelope (with several dubious stains) addressed to you, you might have mistaken it for scrap. It looks like someone tore out a sheet of notebook paper (there are Magic History notes scribbled all over it) and wrote in a different ink color in the unused portions: the margins.

A bracelet comes with the letter, but rather than beads, there’s a bunch of polished and sanded off bottle caps strung on a thread. They rattle together when you slide it onto your wrist to test out the size—and would you look at that. There’s a little knotted notch for you to adjust the width of the bracelet to the perfect size doe you.

***Spoilers for chapters 2, 3, 4, and 5!***

Hey, Prefect!

How’s it going? Having a hard time with stuff? Got anything you need done? Thinkin’ about taking someone out without getting your hands dirty? Well, look no further, cuz I’m the hyena for the job—any job! I’ll literally do any job for you as long as I’m paid well. You know Madol’s what makes the the world go round!

... Yeah, this letter’s exactly what it looks like: an advertisement of my services. Look, money’s kinda tight this week and I’m trying to survive to NRC’s founding day celebration so I can feast on whatever fancy catering the headmaster’s got planned, alright? You know where to find me if you need a helping hand.

Just being Leona-san’s errand boy isn’t enough to make ends meet, you know? I’ve got bills to pay and food to eat, and that costs Madol. Plus... there’s all those brats back home that I’m thinkin’ about. I gotta save whatever scraps I can up for them, too.

Maybe there wouldn’t even be a me to look after those kids if it weren’t for you and those first years. I seriously thought I was gonna get turned to sand and crumble when Leona-san unleased King’s Roar... I dunno how, but you guys actually managed to tame that rampaging beast. Good thing you didn’t charge for that, cuz I don’t think I could ever repay you in enough Madol for saving my tail!!

But hey, don’t come to me acting like I owe you one for rescuing me. I helped swipe Azul-kun’s key and contracts! If you think about it, I kinda gave you a freebie too, since I pitched in to build the VDC stage for you guys to perform on!! “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.” That’s one of the creeds we live by in Savanaclaw. I’ve paid off my debt to you, so now we’re even!

I’m glad you managed to stop Leona-san before it was too late. I mean, if he went berserk and stayed like that, a lot of people would get hurt—and more importantly, I’d lose an important gig! Without Leona-san around... I’d be out of a major job. He might work me like a dog, but I can’t argue about the perks. Having “Prince’s Errand Boy” in my résumé oughta open up some sweet opportunities for me in the future, don’t ‘cha think?

... I’m just kidding~

As much crap as we give each other, I gotta admit. Leona-san’s kinda growing on me. Sure, he’s rude and lazy and demanding and whatever... but I dunno. There’s something about him that you just can’t help but admire. It makes you wanna smile and follow his lead.

I just know... He’s got a vision of the future, Prefect. A future where beastmen from all walks of life can live in the same savanna on equal grounds. Leona-san knows what he wants. It’s the same wish as me, really. A “just” world where everyone gets the same chances. Young or old, rich or poor, lion or hyena....

That’s why... Even at the cost of my own morals, or an arm and a leg, I’ll stand by Leona-san’s side. I trust in his vision—in our vision. And I’ll do whatever I can to help make that a reality. The world’s an unfair place, so why should we play by its rules? They’re written in the world’s favor, anyway. We’ve gotta rebel against them if we’re ever gonna make any progress~

I told ya before, didn’t I? “Anyone can be king at this school”, even a lowly hyena like me. Night Raven College is exactly the opportunity I needed to cut loose and let my laugh go. I want everyone to experience this rush of freedom, this feeling of flying free. That’s why Leona-san leads, and why I follow in his footsteps.

Anyway, remember to hit me up if you ever need anything—as long as you’re also willing to open your wallet in return. I think I’ve spent enough time writing this letter. I gotta go pick up Leona-san’s lunch, then I gotta help Sam-san restock at the Mystery Shop, and after that I have...

Oh, yeah! About lunch... Tell Grim-kun that I said thanks a lot for the menchi-katsu sandwich~ If he’s still salty about it, I can trade him a dandelion salad next time. It’s cheap, delicious, nutritious, and filling! I promise!

See ya around,

🐆 Ruggie Bucchi 🐆

#Ruggie Bucchi #twst anni #twisted wonderland anni #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anniversary #spoilers #magic mystery letters

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

Text

any port in a storm

Pixal and Lloyd and the evolving nature of friendship, as highlighted by the regular burning down of your city.

(desperately trying to break through writer’s block and classes again, this was supposed to be under 2k and it is...very much not hdfjkgh but! i’ve been meaning to write for Pixal and Lloyd for a while so here are a whole bunch of feelings about the two of them and s8)

Pixal meets — truly meets — Lloyd Garmadon shortly after his brother’s been blown to pieces.

She says truly, because if you ask her, Pixal will tell you she met Lloyd Garmadon at exactly 8:48 in the evening outside his father’s monastery, moments before a horde of nindroids led there by Pixal herself descended upon them.

But Lloyd argues that since they said about two words total to each other, it doesn’t really count as meeting, and by the time Pixal’s spending the better part of her day with him running high and low around Ninjago City, she’s learned that it’s easier not to press the point.

Lloyd can be stubborn, like that.

She’d first learned that when she’d met him, just after they’d lost Zane. That loss hadn’t lasted long, especially for Pixal, but the immediate aftermath of it had been devastating. She’d watched with blank eyes as the team had fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise.

All of them had fled, save Lloyd. She hadn’t paid him much attention before that point, the surprisingly small bearer of the Golden Power. Of course, he wasn’t the bearer of that power anymore, but his eyes alone had shown the experience of it. There’d been a brief, lost look that had crossed his face as the others had mentioned leaving, before it had been swept under a mask of stubborn, determined blankness. He wouldn’t be leaving. Someone had to stay behind and watch out for things, he’d claimed, even as the loss had bled through his voice.

Pixal hadn’t quite grasped the concept of empathy at that point, but she’d felt something dangerously close to it.

At any rate, the only interaction they’d had alone was brief. In fact, the only one Pixal can truly remember — and her memory never fails — is the quick exchange they’d had in the hospital lobby directly after the battle. The hospital was for Mr. Borg, and for the ninja’s minor injuries.

There was nothing any hospital on earth could do for Zane.

Pixal had found herself next to Lloyd in the waiting room, trying to distract herself from those thoughts while Lloyd stared at the stark white tiling with dull eyes.

“They never mentioned what your power was,” she’d asked him, almost absently. Collecting data, processing information — anything she could do to distract from the crushing grief.

“Oh.” Lloyd had blinked, startling back into awareness. He’d suddenly looked painfully young. “It’s, ah, I guess it’s just green, now.”

It had been Pixal’s turn to blink. “Green.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd had bit his lip, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, two habits he’ll never quite lose. “I mean — it’s more than that, but it’s like — energy, I guess, is the best way to put it?”

“Interesting,” Pixal had remarked.

“Yeah.”

They’d stared at each other in silence after that, before they’d both been called off to other errands — and then they were having Zane’s funeral and then Pixal was making realizations she never got to tell anyone, and that had been that in her early introductions to Lloyd Garmadon. Quiet, awkward, and possessing an incredible power he hardly even knew the name of.

Looking back, Pixal figures her introduction hadn’t gone much better.

They’d continued as passing acquaintances as time went on, separated by danger and the confines of Zane’s head, and Pixal had figured that’s all they’d ever be. But then their Sensei goes missing and, despite Pixal’s increasing disappearances on Zane as she rebuilds her own body, she’s been given the role of watching out for Ninjago city along with Lloyd.

She quickly learns that quiet is not a term fit for Lloyd Garmadon when you’re trapped alone with him.

************

“How is there not a single station playing actual music?” Lloyd seethes, flicking through the channels almost manically. “It’s two am, who’s gonna be listening to your stupid commercial for toothpaste now, are you kidding me?”

“Statistically speaking, this is the prime time for long-distance driving near Ninjago City,” Pixal supplies, her voice a hint scratchy where it comes through the his car’s radio speakers. “Or, if you factor in the construction in the east district, there could still be traffic from late-night bars.”

Lloyd groans, thunking his head against the steering wheel as another ad screeches through the small space. “Wonderful.”

“Your vocal tones suggest you find it otherwise.”

“Dont trust ‘em, my vocal tones are traitors.” As if to solidify his point, Lloyd’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, shooting up an octave higher. Lloyd goes bright red, and thunks his head against the steering wheel again.

Taking pity on him, Pixal aims for reassurance. “It is normal for your voice to break, Lloyd. It shouldn’t last too long.” She pauses, momentarily scanning through another article. “On second thought, this one suggests it could also take two to three years for your voice to stabilize.”

Lloyd gives a strangled moan. “End me.”

“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m here in the first place.”

Lloyd tilts his head, cracking an eye open as he glances at the camera feed he knows she’s watching him from. “Unfortunately, huh,” he muses. “So you’re saying if Zane hadn’t made you promise to look out for me, you would end me?”

“That — no, that is not — of course I wouldn’t end you,” Pixal backtracks. An odd feeling flickers through her, almost as if she’s lost her place, floundering.

Or embarrassed might be more accurate, she thinks wryly. She briefly considers projecting a a glaring face at Lloyd from the monitor. This is his fault. She rarely stuttered before Lloyd started teasing her at all hours of the morning.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be the first,” Lloyd continues, conversationally. “And if we’re being honest, I’d definitely rather you be the one to off me, instead of like, random bad guy number eighty-five—”

“I know you think you are funny,” Pixal cuts over him. “But casually planning for your death is something Kai listed I was not to let you do. Also, it is not nearly as funny as you think it is.”

“Ouch,” Lloyd mutters, though he looks chastised. “Never mind, you just took me out in one sentence.”

Chastised might be the wrong term.

Pixal studies him through the monitor, then sighs. “I am, however, honored you think highly enough of me to offer the right to murder you,” she gives in.

She’s rewarded as Lloyd breaks into a bright grin.

He still looks painfully young these days, but it’s less obvious. His voice is pitching lower and he wears his hair different, and he’s gained a whip-like tendency to quip at people, as Pixal’s experienced firsthand. Kai calls it sass in grumbling but fond tones, and Nya calls it snark somewhere between the fourth book series she’s sent for Pixal to try.

The ninja have been kind like that, sharing the interests they have in an attempt to make her feel…well, more human, she supposes. Less confined to a voice in a computer. Of course, Pixal isn’t confined to a voice in a computer anymore, but they don’t know that yet. She’ll tell them someday soon, she promises herself. Any day now.

In the meantime, it’s easy enough to keep up with Lloyd by lurking in his car radio, as he spends half his time in there anyways.

************

“You’d think we’d have found their hideout by now,” Lloyd notes, as they wait in a darkened alleyway again. It gives them an excellent view of the major highways, so if the rumored biker gang does show up, they won’t miss it.

If they show up being the key point.

“Whoever their leader is, they certainly know how to keep a low profile,” Pixal answers, closing out another dead end police report in frustration.

“It’s weird,” Lloyd says, propping the notebook he’s sketching in on his knee as he squints at the paper. “Normally the boss types aren’t this quiet. They like to show off, y’know? Make a big scene, dramatic speeches and all.”

“Are you referring to the villains, or yourselves?”

“Touché,” Lloyd snorts. “But still, you gotta admit it’s weird they haven’t even made any demands. What’s their end game here, elaborate advertising for motorcycle design?”

“I would hope not,” Pixal says. “Their color coordination is lacking.”

Lloyd fights back a smile, his pencil scratching as he shifts his notebook again. “I don’t know, I kinda like the punk look.”

“I noticed that, when you tried to redecorate the car.”

“Hey, skulls are cool.”

“They are also conspicuous, especially when they come in acid green colors.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lloyd sighs, making a face as he scrubs the eraser across the paper. Pixal tries to tilt the camera further, to see what he’s drawing tonight, but the angle he’s holding it at remains just out of sight.

She could probably guess what he’s drawing, if she tried. The notebook is one they’ve been steadily working their way through on these late-night patrols, the pages filled with little hangman games and Lloyd’s sketches of animals and his teammates. He’s drawn her a few times from memory, and she’s been tempted to ask him to draw her in the new Samurai X armor more than once.

Soon, she tells herself.

“What are you drawing?” she finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Lloyd’s cheeks tinge pink, and he quickly plasters the notebook to his chest, hiding it entirely from view. “Nothing.”

Pixal waits, letting the silence fill with her judgement. “Lloyd, I have seen your drawings before.”

He doesn’t reply, and Pixal tries again. “It gets boring, being stuck with the car monitors for eyes.”

“I know you can hack other cameras,” Lloyd mutters, but he sighs, relenting as he turns the notebook over. Pixal’s eyes rake over the detailed sketch — it’s a comical little thing of her and Lloyd, jammed together on a tiny lifeboat in the middle of a darkening ocean. She can spot the smudges where he’s redrawn her head several times, and the numerous attempts he’s made at his own hair. Pixal studies Lloyd’s portrayal of himself, which is noticeably lacking in facial features. While Lloyd draws the others plenty, it’s a rare occasion that he draws himself, and she can’t help but be curious.

“I thought you were drawing the others again,” she admits.

“They’re on the ship,” Lloyd says, absently. “I’ll draw them when they remember to pull us back in.”

There’s nothing bitter in his tone to suggest it has any bearing on their actual lives, but the lost expressions Lloyd ends up giving their tiny caricatures feel familiar nonetheless.

“Zane has assured me they will be back as soon as they can,” Pixal speaks ups quietly.

Lloyd finally looks up fully, and flashes the monitor a smile. “I know,” he says. “So we better have this thing busted by the time they do, or they’ll never let us run a city on our own again.”

“If only we were truly running the city,” Pixal grumbles. “I could do a better job in two days than the current leaders could do in a year.”

“I’d vote for you,” Lloyd says, sincerely.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Pixal is unable to resist. “You don’t know how to vote.”

“Yes I do, it’s not hard!”

“Really? Then why are you not currently registered in the Ninjago voting system?”

Lloyd makes a strangled noise. “That’s a thing?”

She’s unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “I make my point.” Lloyd scowls, and scribbles a mustache on his drawing of her in revenge.

Pixal thinks it looks nice nonetheless.

************

She can’t really hold it against Lloyd for talking as much as he does, considering she does the same. It gets dull, sitting on patrol for hours on end, and there are only so many hours of light reading they can do before the silence begins to drive them both insane.

Pixal finds herself talking about more useless things with Lloyd than she has in her existence, pointless conversations in circles with each other. She also finds she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s become quite good at quipping back and forth with him, at least. It’s different than the kind of talk she has with Zane, lacking in the depth of feeling with the love they share. Her exchanges with Lloyd are lighter, though that’s not to say they’re less sincere.

For example, Zane hasn’t tried to teach her how to redesign a gi in poor lighting in the early hours of the morning because he’s bored out of his mind, that’s for sure.

“I’m teaching you how to sew,” Lloyd corrects, wincing as he accidentally stabs himself with the needle. “And I’m not redesigning the whole thing, I’m just adding some designs to spice it up.”

“I did not know you were allowed to wear colors other than green,” Pixal comments.

Lloyd pauses, squinting at the monitor. “You’re teasing me,” he finally says. “You’re making fun of how much green this gi has in it.”

“I would never,” Pixal replies, her tone flat and even. “The intricacies of your human humor evade me—”

“Human humor, nice—”

“—unlike the unusually bright shade of green you’ve chosen will fail to evade any eyes of your enemies.”

“I knew you were making fun of me!” Lloyd accuses, then flinches as he stabs his finger again trying to point at her. “And bright colors are our thing. Being subtle is, uh…not. Usually.”

Pixal is losing the battle to laugh at his expression by the minute. “I am shocked.”

Lloyd glares at the monitor, shifting his sewing to rest on his knees as he slouches in the car seat. “How’d you even get so good at sarcasm, anyways,” he mutters. “Zane still doesn’t get it half the time.”

“Perhaps it is part of my glowing personality,” Pixal says. Lloyd gives a huff of laughter, relenting.

“Fair enough,” he says, shifting in his seat again. “Fine, you win. The green is probably too bright, but that’s not the point. I’m gonna show you how to do a backstitch."

Pixal falls quiet, letting Lloyd gesture with the needle as he explains. There are a hundred, a thousand tutorials she could pull up online, digitized knowledge instantly learned on all the countless types of stitches she could use, sorted and categorized in neat columns of use and effectiveness. All of them more detailed, more easily understood than Lloyd’s absent rambling and unsteady hands as he struggles with the end of a knot.

Not one of them will care whether or not Pixal learns the odd way Zane likes to loop his stitches, or will quietly add which stitches knit skin back together quickest.

So Pixal ignores her programming, and does her best to follow Lloyd’s rambling instructions, watching as his scarred fingers tug another thread of dull gold through the green mess of fabric, the city quiet around them.

“You never did tell me where you learned how to sew,” Pixal says, as Lloyd starts up a new thread of black on the other side of the gi. “Was that something the others taught you in training?”

“They’d have to know how to be able to teach it,” Lloyd snickers. “And, uh, no. I taught myself to back at Darkley’s.”

“Oh,” Pixal falters. She’s heard about Darkley’s, both from Zane and the legal reports she’s read online. Neither gave a positive impression of the place. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of a younger Lloyd trying to give himself stitches, and her heart twists.

Lloyd starts, seemingly having picked up on her train of thought. “I mean, I did it for fun, mostly. I like sewing,” he explains. “It’s useful. You can pull things back together, and fix ‘em.”

Pixal is quiet, but she hopes Lloyd takes her silence as agreement with his motive. She likes to think he knows her well enough for that, by now.

************

Pixal finds, somewhere during their fourth month alone, that she’s glad the team elected to stick her and Lloyd together. Not because she doesn’t want to be with Zane — there’s never a moment she doesn’t miss him, and with every day that passes her resolve to keep her secret from him grows weaker, as the longing for actual connection grows stronger.

But there are conversations she can have with Lloyd that she can never have with Zane, and the dangerous thing about spending time with Lloyd, Pixal finds, is that they’re more similar than she’s realized.

“Sometimes I think I’m jealous,” Lloyd whispers to her one night. It’s one of the bad ones, the ones where their enemies struck too sudden to stop, and the mission ends in the hospital. “I think I’m jealous of Zane, and I hate myself for it.”

Pixal is quiet, trying to pick apart the tone of his voice in the words he’s just spoken, and factors in the victims they’ve just left behind at the hospital. She finds herself no closer to an answer.

“Is it the metal skin part?” she finally asks, though she knows that’s wrong. “The, what was it, technical immortality?”

“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he says emphatically, his fingers fluttering at over the steering wheel, tapping incessantly with unspent energy. “I don’t want to, but that’s — it’s not what I’m scared of. I’m more scared of how I go out.”

He swallows, and his fingers move to dance over the woven bracelet on his wrist instead, twisting at the tiny beads and tracing senseless designs in constant, steady movement. It’s a motion he does often, and it had puzzled Pixal at first. She’d decided to write it off as an odd tick, a way to spend excess energy.

Now, she recognizes the desperate kind of reassurance that movement gives. She understands too well the need to remind yourself that you can move — that your body will obey you and you alone.

Pixal thinks back to the other factors in tonight’s accident, of the way the drugged man’s eyes had cleared when they’d finally turned him over to the police, the way he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing in his right mind. She thinks of the way the first victim had thrown themselves over their companion.

That victim hadn’t made it to the hospital.

“Ah,” Pixal says, quietly.

She’s silent again, and she thinks back to when she’d met him, the very first time. She recalls the way her programming had rebelled against her in favor of the Overlord, corrupting her body and forcing it against her, twisting everything she was and wanted to be into something different.

She thinks back again, to the searing-hot anger, the terror, the despair as she was torn apart, piece by piece like a machine, burning out at the whims of another. Her end purposeless, her demise belonging to someone else, just like every other part of her.

She thinks of the last glimpse she’d caught of Zane, bright and beautiful as a supernova. Burning with the terrible brilliance of his own, determined choice. Terrible, because the death of something always is. Beautiful, because it was his own. Zane died, not a machine, not a weapon, not a tool of anyone or anything, but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves. Pixal could’ve died for spare parts.

Never again, she promises herself. If she goes out, she goes out on her own terms. This time, they choose the end of their own destiny themselves.

In hindsight, it’s the kind of promise they’re both too young to make, but neither of them have ever seen themselves as such, and promises like that are easy.

“Love can be terrible, sometimes,” Lloyd murmurs. Pixal watches him scrub at the blood on his uniform, and thinks how ironically well-timed it is that he finished the stitching on his new gi this morning. “Sometimes I forget how ugly it can be.”

************

The end of their nighttime stakeouts begins with a break-in at Mr. Borg’s tower. Lloyd argues that she should get to call it her father’s tower, if she wants, but the ninja aren’t the only ones Pixal’s hiding herself from.

And then Lloyd gets very tense at the thought of fathers very fast, and they never finish the conversation.

They stay at the edge of the bridge long after the parachute, emblazoned with the unmistakable visage of Lloyd’s father, disappears from sight. Pixal wonders if it’s burned into Lloyd’s eyes, like the way she’s read black spots linger in humans’ vision after they’ve looked at something too bright. The way Lloyd stares at the river, his shoulders tense and his teeth worrying at his lip, she thinks she might be right.

They’re waiting on the report from the commissioner —they’re waiting for anything, anyone who can offer them any explanation of what’s going on. Pixal’s reminded of how much she loathes this kind of waiting.

“It could be—” Lloyd begins, then breaks off, his voice wavering. He swallows, and Pixal can see the way his fists clench tightly from the cameras they’ve put in his car. There’s a fierce part of her that longs to reveal herself, to meet his eyes herself and offer some semblance of comfort. But there’s a time and place for things, and Pixal isn’t ready.

“It could be anything,” Lloyd finally continues, his voice small. “It could — it doesn’t mean anything. It could mean nothing, right?”

Pixal is silent, her mind racing. She’s run the calculations over and over in her head already, scouring the internet for anything related to the bikers. She’s been foolish, she realizes — they both have. Letting the gang go unnamed for so long, thinking nothing of it. Now, with the name flashing vibrant across Pixal’s vision, a part of her wants to let them go nameless just a bit longer.

Before she can answer, Lloyds phone goes off with a sharp ping, just as Pixal’s sensors alert her to the message from the commissioner. Lloyd snatches for his phone like it’s on fire, and Pixal’s already scanning the message frantically, as if she can salvage this if she’s fast enough, save Lloyd from this one pain.

Lloyd’s gotten much better at reading quickly though, these days.

She can pinpoint the moment he reaches the last paragraph, because his breath hitches. There’s a long, pressing pause of silence, Lloyd’s hands trembling as they clutch weakly at his phone. Then it’s punctured by a reedy, wheezing gasp, and Pixal’s suddenly wishing she’d revealed herself after all.

Instead, all she has is her voice as Lloyd crumples, crouching over in visible distress. Pixal’s mind races, recalling everything Zane’s ever told her about his team, the way their panic manifests in different shades. Lloyd’s is quiet but desperate, rapid breathes that stutter as his eyes slide more and more into a frightening kind of blankness.

“Lloyd, please, listen to my voice,” she begs, trying to reach him in the only way she can. “Please, you have to breathe—”

“He’s gone,” Lloyd rasps, unhearing of her words. “He’s s’posed to be gone, it’s supposed to be over, I’m supposed to be done—”

Pixal fights back the sense of overwhelming helplessness. She knows loss. She knows how to finish his sentence. He’s supposed to be done grieving, done mourning, done clinging to false scraps of hope that his father isn’t lost forever only to be met with heartbreak.

And now, to be met with the possibility of something so much worse.

“We’ll stop them,” she tells him, unflinching. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a vivid green where they stare at her through the monitor, almost ghostly in the misting light reflecting from the river.

He’s silent, but Pixal is, too.

Pixal remembers the way her head had spun when she’d first picked up the traces of Zane in the system, how the world had rushed then steadied, flooding with color as she’d realized he might not be lost after all. She remembers the surging, overwhelming flood of joy, that someone she’d thought she lost might live after all. She remembers being so happy, at even the smallest chance to get him back, because the voice was Zane’s, without a doubt.

She watches the color seep from Lloyd’s expression as his shoulders shudder, the words from the commissioner’s message almost echoing through the air. Watches the terror as the both of them fill the silence.

Will we?

The radio scratches, as if echoing Pixal’s anxiety. Love can be terrible, sometimes. She’s underestimated how it also be so cruel.

************

She’s also, apparently, underestimated how the universe on the whole could be so cruel.

She should’ve revealed herself to them from day one. That way, when Harumi’s corrupted programming suddenly ravages through her like an electric shock, she could be reassured they’d at least be familiar with the person they were fighting.

Instead, she doesn’t even get to scream. Pixal’s only able to force out a desperate, broken warning before she’s lost again, drowning in her own body as she’s forced under. Furious panic grips her as she screams without lungs, bashing herself against the overwhelming helplessness that’s taken over her.

Not again, not again, not again—

Her limbs creak and jolt against her will, lashing out at the people she cares most about, and Pixal can’t even rage back in her own voice. She’s sworn, she’s promised herself she’d never let anyone do this to her again — she’s sworn she’d die before she let someone reach into her head and snatch control away, and yet here she is, frozen as her body’s used to target her friends.

If she could cry, she might.

There’s not much more to say than that. She breaks free, her body her own once again, but by then it’s too late.

************

If Pixal had the same gift of foresight that Zane did, maybe she would have seen it coming. Maybe she’d have remembered how similar her and Lloyd are, and that this kind of pained desperation always yields impulsiveness and mistakes.

She doesn’t, though. She barely even manages to do what she’s trying to, which is convincing Lloyd to join the others while they celebrate their victory. Their off-key singing is something he normally wouldn’t hesitate to join in on, she thinks, and she hates Harumi a little more.

Maybe she’ll try his mother next. The expression on Lloyd’s face screams unapproachable, and remains fixedly sullen.

Almost to her surprise, he meets her eyes as she draws near— it’s odd, being able to meet his back — and his own eyes are dark, from despair over Harumi or despair over his father, Pixal isn’t sure. She’s thinking it might be both, when his eyebrows crease, and a flicker of concern cuts through them instead.

“You good?”

It takes her a moment to realize why he’s asking, but the answer is obvious. Her head tilts downward, and she watches as her fingers curl and uncurl. Her movements, her choices. She lets out an even breath.

“As I can be,” she replies. Lloyd nods, and his eyes are understanding. His lips twist in a scowl.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. That was a low blow.”

Pixal’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “That it was. She’s rather good at those, isn’t she.”

Lloyd’s eyes shadow again, and he looks away, crossing his arms. “This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he mutters.

“Yes, it is,” Pixal counters. “It is why I came over here, in the first place. She hurt—”

“All of us, and who’s fault is that,” Lloyd snaps, his arms crossing tighter.

“I would hope you know it’s hers,” she says, holding firm.

Lloyd looks away again, biting his lip, and Pixal shifts anxiously, rolling her wrists. The sensation of control sliding away still haunts her, worse than it had the first time. She should be better than this, she tells herself hotly. She’s lived without a body long enough that losing it so briefly shouldn’t effect her this much.

Curse her programming, she thinks, tapping agitatedly at the banister. She knew she should have reinforce it sooner.

“Hey, um.” Lloyd is looking at her again, hesitant. He twists at his bracelet, and his eyes lose a fraction of that darkness. “Kai made this for me, after Morro,” he says. “I kept shredding the sleeves of my uniform, so he told me to mess with this instead, when I needed to remember that…that I was in control.”

He shrugs, hesitant. “We could make you one too, if you wanted. It helps, having something.”

Pixal lets out a steady breath, despite not actually needing to. The action is grounding, she’s found. “I would like that.”

Lloyd gives her a ghost of a smile in return. “Soon as this is over, then.”

There’s a heavy weight to his words, and Pixal’s eyes narrow.

“Lloyd,” she says. He looks at her, his eyes dark. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He’s quiet, not meeting her eyes, and this is where Pixal should stop him. This is when she should see the end of the road they’ve been on since they started this, and force him to turn before it’s too late.

“I know what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t.

************

Lloyd is battered and bleeding by the time they drag him onto the ship, a gruesome portrait of cruelty. Pixal is frozen as she watches him writhe in Kai’s hold, his screams cracked and wet as he thrashes erratically like a broken thing.

Nya is already barking orders before they’ve even gotten Lloyd fully on the ship, and Zane is running scans with a horrified, wavering focus. Pixal follows Cole as he carries Lloyd to the medbay with a blank numbness, the rush of wind streaming past the Bounty sails thunderously loud in her ears.

This isn’t Lloyd, she thinks, staring at his crumpled form. Lloyd isn’t this battered, broken shell of a person. Lloyd isn’t hazy eyes that fail to recognize them and frantic murmuring through bloody lips. Lloyd is bright-eyed and gentle and would rather die before he screams the way he does when Cole moves him to the table.

Lloyd is her friend, and this is where that promise they made has led them. She knows why Lloyd set out for the prison, hot on the collapse of his own star. She also knows he wouldn’t have chosen to burn out like this.

Cole calls out for Zane, his voice ringing in panic as Lloyd screeches in pain again. Pixal thinks of quiet words in the safety of his car, and she feels sick. This is the ugliness of love, the terrible, hideous side of it.

And Lloyd would hate it, if he could see himself, if he were any semblance of lucid. He’d hate to know just how much better he was at breaking himself than Morro ever was.

Zane is gentle as he pushes past her, but Pixal can feel the tremble in his hands. He’s every bit as rattled as she is, if not more so — Zane’s heart is larger and softer than hers has ever been, and he cares about each and every one of them with a painful intensity. It’s a cruel thing, to have to pull those same people back together with your own hands.

Kai’s eyes are streaming as he clutches at Lloyd’s wrists, pinning him in place. Zane’s hands waver again over one of the jagged wounds near Lloyd’s ribcage, the green of his uniform already dyed dark in blood, soaking over the careful stitches Pixal watched him put in himself.

Pixal finally finds her footing, reminding herself of the solid wood beneath her feet. She recalls the steady, smooth stitch Lloyd’s scarred fingers traced out for her.

“Here.” She takes the needle from Zane’s hands, squeezing his briefly before letting go. “I can do it.”

She sets the needle against Lloyd’s skin and wonders what kind of stitch it’d take to pull your heart back together.

************

Pixal cannot cry. It’s one of the features Mr. Borg spent hours debating, weighing the pros and cons of giving her the ability before he was truly sure how rust-proof she was. He’d never gotten the chance to, as the Overlord had interrupted him, then Pixal had lost any body to give the ability to cry to, which had eliminated the need entirely.

She cannot cry, but she can hurt, and the rain that streams through her hair, dripping down her forehead spotting raindrops on her cheeks, could be tears if she pretended.

She doesn’t, though, because tears are a waste of water and overall useless in the grand scheme of things. She doubts they’d have helped her fare any better in the battle with Colossi, either.

Tears won’t bring anyone back.

Lloyd cries anyways. She can’t see him, but she can hear it in his voice, the way it wavers and breaks over the radio, nasally tones pronounced.

He’s barely able to gasp a few coordinates to her before he cuts the radio off abruptly. Pixal’s spent enough time with him to envision his scarred fingers snapping it off with a particular desperation, green sparking from his hands in distress.

She reminds herself those sparks are gone, now, bled away into nothing like the vivid green of Lloyd’s eyes had. The thought makes her sadder than she’d expected. She had a joke, about his eyes, she had wanted to make. Now that she has a body, and her own set of glowing green eyes, she’d — there was something he would’ve laughed at, she thought —

It doesn’t matter, now. Neither of them are likely to laugh anytime soon.

The coordinates blink brightly in her vision, and she’s almost surprised she managed to key them in. She’s running on autopilot, she supposes. It could be ironic — she’s been so desperate for control, it’s been so important that she’s the one feeling. Now, she’d give anything not to feel at all.

She lets out a shaky breath, dispelling the mist in her vision left from the rain. She leans forward, just over the edge of the building she’s crouched on, and her loose hair falls forward, silvery and synthetic and horribly tangled. Irritated, she reaches for another hair tie, and her hands falter around her wrist.

Lloyd had promised her a bracelet there. But he’d promised Kai would make the bracelet, hadn’t he, and Kai couldn’t make the bracelet if he was dead, could he.

Pixal blinks, her breath hitching. She’s been so numb to the pain of Zane’s loss, it hasn’t yet occurred to her that she’s losing Kai, too. And Jay, and Cole, and—

She sucks in the same shuddery kind of breath she’s seen Lloyd do, and carefully fists her hand in the area of her uniform above her chest. Her fingers dig in tightly, clutching in a hopeless attempt to feel some sort of comfort she knows she’ll never find.

But perhaps, for these few seconds, she can pretend the action is holding her together.

************

“It was inevitable,” Pixal tells Lloyd blankly, as he rasps out his third apology in the dark cover of their small hideout. “That one of us would fall, eventually. It had nothing to do with you.”

Lloyd swallows thickly. “It could’ve — it should’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Pixal’s hand shoots out, clamping tightly around his wrist, and there’s a beat of gratitude that she doesn’t need to rely on her voice alone anymore.

“Don’t.” Her voice is strung tighter than the tension in their shoulders. “You cannot change anything. You can’t, Lloyd, and you should not wish to — to change it that way.”

Lloyd jerks his hand free, wiping miserably at his eyes. He sets it back down within her reach, though, and if Pixal were any different, she’d take it.

But Pixal isn’t that different from Lloyd at all in the end, and neither of them reach for the other’s hand, no matter how desperately they crave the contact. Fear is more familiar, and it’s easier to give into it than it is the clawing need for comfort in your chest, after all.

“Still,” Lloyd finally whispers. “Still.”

Pixal swallows. She doesn’t disagree. If one of them had to fall, she knows she gladly would have taken it upon herself. She knows the others care for her, certainly, but she also knows her place in the grand scheme of things. They were six before she came along, and even now she’s kept far too many secrets to be fully counted among them.

She listens to Lloyd’s quiet, cracked voice, and she wonders if he’s thinking that they were five before he came along, younger than Pixal got to know him as.

Now they’re three, hollow and heartbroken. Though counting herself as one whole feels like cheating, right now.

Pixal squeezes her eyes shut, and wonders what it’s like to cry. Perhaps it helps, though Lloyd doesn’t look any less miserable.

************

“I was thinking,” Lloyd tells her, during one of the precious few quiet moments they have while trying to overthrow Garmadon and Harumi. Pixal’s turning the tiny tea flower he’d given her over in her hands, a part of her mind already marking articles about flower-pressing, another part wondering if it’s already too late to save the blossom. “About that promise we made, before all this.”

Pixal finally tucks the flower into the pocket of her uniform, pressed close to her chest. If anything, it can be a reminder of the lives that are safe — the life that’s coming back to her, if she has to drag him back from another realm herself. “And?”

Lloyd’s hands twist together. “Maybe we should focus more on staying alive.”

Pixal coughs out a laugh, breathless and startled. Lloyd wrinkles his nose at her, but his eyes are amused, even with their light lost. “I mean, the emphasis would be on keeping everyone else alive, but it’s kinda hard to do that if we’re dead, so…yeah. Priorities.”

“Staying alive should always be a priority,” Pixal corrects him, but she tugs the edge of his armor out of place with a smile.

“Why didn’t you teach me how to graffiti?” she nods at the designs on the green leather. “Or was this another Darkley’s tradition.”

“This is a refined art, called whatever I had on me that showed up on dark green,” Lloyd grumbles, fixing his armor. “I’ll teach it to you when we get out of this.”

“Another reason why staying alive would be a more productive focus,” Pixal points out. “I’ve heard teaching is easier when you’re alive.”

“And I’ve heard you’re a real riot,” Lloyd mutters. “It’s a promise, okay? I promise to teach you how to do cool armor design if you promise not to disappear into another realm on me.”

Pixal nods, adjusting her own armor tighter as screams ring out from a street nearby. “A promise, then.”

She keeps both the promise and the flower, the tiny blossom dried and faded by the time she’s escaped from the prison, heart racing with leftover adrenaline as Zane sweeps her into his arms. She clutches back every bit as tight, listening to his breathless laughter as cheers rise from the streets behind them, the smoke drifting across the early morning sky above them pale against the lightening blue. Pixal buries her face in his shoulder and breathes, tucking the moment away in her heart where it won’t fade. There’s a future stretching out before her, and she’s got the limbs to walk her path on her own, but all she wants right now is the steady ground beneath her feet and the bright laughter of what she’s managed to keep.

Lloyd meets them shortly after, his own promise kept as he tears his gaze from his father, handing him off to the authorities before sprinting for the others. Pixal barely snags a moment alone with him, and even then no one’s particularly keen on letting him out of their sights.

He meets her eyes as they pick their way through the wrecked streets, the city more alive around them than it’s been in weeks. In the dark of the early morning, Pixal’s eyes glow a bright green, reflecting oddly in the windows they pass. It’s always been her preferred color, in contrast to Zane’s bright blue. Lloyd glances at her, his own eerily green eyes glowing back. He bites his lip, but it’s to hold back real laughter this time.

“My eyes were green first,” she tells him.

“Sue me,” he shoots back, before Kai’s throwing an arm over his shoulders again, tucking Lloyd neatly in between him and Nya. Pixal smothers a laugh at the look on his face, and tightens her own arm further where it’s linked firmly in Zane’s.

It’s going to be an easy promise to keep, she thinks.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #pixal #there was a point to this but it got lost in pix and lloyd do arts and crafts #either way i'd die for both these characters #ninjago where is the pixal love i miss her #my fic

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sky-scribbles · 3 years

Text

Party banter with Inquisitor Essek

(Because this ridiculous crossover has taken over my life. A brief explanation, as much as explanation is possible: a mis-cast spell has yote a post-campaign Essek through a planar rift and into Thedas, and he happened to land in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. These banters go up to the destruction of Haven, which is why Cole isn’t here - but he will be in later instalments!)

Cassandra: Leliana has found no information about you. Not a thing. Essek: Considering that most mages are met with disgust and imprisonment, it would be... imprudent of me to advertise my presence. Cassandra: Living in secrecy is one thing. Leaving no mark on the world at all is another. Essek: And you would prefer, I think, for all my secrets to be at your disposal. Cassandra: Are you surprised that I suspect you have something to hide? Essek: Is hostile intent the only possible reason for secrecy, Seeker?

Solas: It would appear that your mark is affecting you physically, Herald. Essek: My hand was not green before, no. Solas: Aside from the obvious. While I tended to you after the conclave, you did not always seem to be asleep. At times, you lapsed into true unconsciousness. At other times, you seemed to trance, half-sleeping. Essek: Ah. Yes. I suppose... the connection to the Fade has altered the way I sleep. I find I can enter these trances at will, as a substitute for sleep. Solas: That is fascinating. The ancient elves could enter an endless dream called uthenera. Perhaps this is a related phenomenon. Essek: So one would assume.

Essek: So, Sera. I was going through my research notes - Sera: [Sniggering] Essek: And I found that they had been expertly illustrated. Sera: That's what your weird rifty timey magic shite needs. All the butts. Essek: They certainly add interest. Although... that drawing of me closing a rift full of demon butts? You should have shaped my cloak so that it looked like a dick. Sera: [laughs] Like a dick! You're all right, Herald Weirdyhand. Essek: And you are quite the jester.

Varric: How is it you can just walk around pitch-black caves without a problem? Don’t tell me you're part-dwarf and it's stone-sense. Essek: Ah, no. I would assume it is yet another change from the mark. Varric: So this thing lets you fix the sky, and it's a free torch? Who knew that being Andraste's chosen came with a multi-purpose toolkit? Essek: There is no evidence for my being chosen by anything other than political convenience. Varric: You’re not crazy about the whole Herald business, are you? Essek: About people deciding that I am the mouthpiece of an unproven god who does not speak to anyone, and yet whose name and teachings people use as an excuse for war and conquest, without investigating the truth behind those teachings? No. I am not.

Blackwall: So what does an apostate do, if he's on his own for... I don't know, how many years? Essek: Arcane research, mostly. Why, what does a Grey Warden do when he's on his own for however many years? Blackwall: Kill darkspawn. Recruit for the Wardens. Kill more darkspawn. Essek: And your fellow Wardens do not accompany you? Blackwall: You don't need more than one person to say 'how do you feel about fighting darkspawn for the rest of your life?' Essek: Did you... ever find yourself becoming lonely, in your solitude? Blackwall: I... sometimes, I suppose. Never gave much thought to it. Easier that way. Essek: Mm. I know the feeling.

Dorian: So you think Alexius’s perception of time was fundamentally flawed? Essek: I do. Time is not a straight line, through which one can jump ahead, skip back and rub bits out. Dorian: How would you have done it differently? Aside from the whole ‘conjure a world infested with red lyrium and catastrophe’ part. Essek: Imagine time as a branching thing. Every choice we make causes potential timelines to fade into non-existence. Essek: But their potential remains, waiting to be tapped. Alexius should have attempted to manifest a timeline in which I was never here, rather than removing me from this one. Dorian: Well, don’t tell everybody how to make it work. Wouldn’t want them to get ideas. Though perhaps you’d like to compare notes, later? Essek: I... would like that.

Vivienne: You carry yourself remarkably well, Herald. Almost like nobility. Essek: Only 'almost'? I shall have to try harder. Vivienne: And despite your youth, you deflect personal inquiries with the deftness of a seasoned player of the Game. Quite remarkable, from a hedge mage. Essek: I'm mildly curious: 'hedge mage'? Vivienne: A self-taught mage, dear. One who has gone without the instruction of a Circle, or even a Dalish clan. If you ever require tuition, I am at your disposal. Essek: I’m sure you are. But I am not especially interested in whatever you think you have to teach.

Sera: You’re proper weird, you are. You go all swanny around the noble piss-bags, all smiles and pretty words like Lady Josie, but you put teeth in it, like Vivvy. Essek: Like Vivienne? I should hope not. Sera: And then you screw the nobs over like Josie does, ‘cept she makes them love her for it and you make them scared. Leliana kind of scared. Essek: When people don’t know you, or what to make of you, they fear you. It makes them... malleable. It’s something I’ve learned to use. As has Leliana, it would seem.

Varric: You doing all right, Smiles? Essek: 'Smiles'? An intriguing choice. Varric: Same reasoning as Iron Lady and Sparkler. Meet as many messes as I have, and you get good at spotting masks. Essek: Indeed? Varric: You fell out of the sky, got attacked by a shit ton of demons and put in charge of an army, and never once stopped smiling. Kind of impressive, actually. Essek: Thank you. Varric: Also, creepy as shit.

Solas: I'm curious about your name, Herald. Essek: My name? It's Essek. Sera: [laughs] Solas: I meant that it isn't elven, though your family name sounds very like it. Solas: ‘Thelyss’. I wonder if it is is a result of syllables from the name 'Lethallas' being lost and altered over the years. It means, 'a gift to one's kin.' Essek: Ha. Solas: You don't find that likely? Essek: Me being a gift to my kin? Highly unlikely.

Iron Bull: So, boss, what do you make of my guys? Essek: They clearly have an array of talents. Iron Bull: Oh, come on. I didn't ask for what the Herald thought of his new recruits, I asked what you make of my guys. Essek: Very well. They are... unusual. Enthusiastic. I think that some would underestimate them, some would be thrown off-balance by them, and many would do both. Iron Bull: Ha. Yeah, we like to keep people guessing. Essek: I like them. They are... lively.

Sera: I don’t get it. You can screw over noble shite-faces without being scary. And you’re not scary! I know you and you’re not scary, so why be scary? Essek: Well, I don’t find you scary either, Sera. But I’m sure our enemies do, when they’re on the wrong end of your arrows. Sera: That’s different things, though. I learned arrows because arrows mean nobs are dead and I’m not. Essek: Exactly. Like you, I have had to fight for survival in my own ways. And unlike you, for a long time, I was without friends. Sera: So... you learned how to do scary because you’re scared? Essek: I would say more... aware of potential dangers. Sera: So, scared.

Solas: As for your first name, the final syllable is not even a sound that occurs in elven. Is it Qunlat? One of your parents is Qunari, I assume? Essek: Ah. Yes, of course. Solas: So it is Qunlat? Iron Bull: Nah, that’s not Qunlat, whatever it is. Almost sounds like it, though. Kinda like ‘isskari’. Name for Ben-Hassrath who get hold of weird magic crap. Essek: Oddly appropriate. But since I'm not in contact with my family, the truth shall have to remain a mystery.

Blackwall: Are you all right, Herald? Essek: Fine, thank you. I simply have somewhat sensitive eyes and skin, and it is a very bright day. Blackwall: If you need to stop, I could... I don’t know. Hold a shield over your head? Essek: I appreciate it, but no, thank you. It is tolerable. Blackwall: Didn’t meant to offend. Essek: It is all right. I - [sighs] I apologise. That would help, if you could. Years of solitude have made me... reliant on my own self-reliance, I suppose. Blackwall: I know what you mean. Shield parasol it is, then.

Sera: Don’t need to be scared, right? Anyone gives you shit, I give ‘em arrows. Or just pies. Or worms in their shoes. Essek: [chuckles] Thank you, Sera. Please do. Sera: Did think you were scary at first, you know. Essek: What changed your mind? Sera: Scary wouldn’t grin when I drew butts on things. Essek: ... Are you at all fond of cupcakes, Sera?

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #critical role #inquisitor!essek #essek thelyss #is a lying liar who lies. but he's trying his best #his relationship with vivienne will improve i swear #sky's writing

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Angel Wings.”

Setting up for some other stuff really quick, don’t worry I am going to finish the krill arc, I just needed to jump away from it really quick. Hope you enjoy today’s story :)

“I am not willing to take unnecessary risks.”

“We don’t have enough men to cover all that area.”

“We will do what has to be done.”

“With all due respect, Admiral, do you understand how big space is?” There was a silence in the room, twenty or so men and women stood around a large dark table. All around them on the walls light up star maps and ship configurations glowed blue in the dim holographic light. On the table before them a star map had been laid out casting shadows upon the faces of men and women.

Admiral Vir was sitting partially facing admiral Massie who was half standing, his heavy frame leaning palms flat against the table.

The two stared very intensely at each other, the older man trying to dominate the younger with the sheer intensity of his presence. It was rather unfortunate for him that after two years of almost continual active service in space, Admiral vir was used to being stared down by Adaptids, Starborn, Drev warriors, and --on occasion-- space dragons, so this rather portly man in a funny hat was unlikely to get a rise out of him.

“You better watch your tone, boy.” The man hissed quietly

Admiral Vir looked back at him unblinking, “This is the 41st century Admiral, and that superiority bullshit isn’t going to stack up to experience, so I will watch my tone when you sit down and realize that what you are suggesting, not only puts our entire fleet, and all of the fleets of the GA at risk, but it's also based on outdated military naval strategy from a thousand years ago that does not take into consideration that space is, in fact, three dimensional.”

The men and women about the table shifted awkwardly in their seats, unsure how to proceed.

To some degree superiority DID fly, especially within the Office of Galactic Intelligence, where Admiral Massie was head officer, but out there, among the stars, where Admiral Vir had spent nearly 90% of his career, the ability to question your superiors could be a matter of life and death.

In the end it was Admiral Kelly, a strong political supporter of Admiral Vir, and his long time ally who leaned forward in her seat, “I think Admiral Vir does have a point. He is, after all our resident expert in galactic warfare.” She looked around the table, “I don’t see anyone else here who has been involved in a pitched space battled?”

There was murmuring and the shuffling of feet.

She Adjusted her cup of coffee lightly where it sat on the desk, “In fact the only person here who has ever flown a ship, being me, would have no idea how to go about galactic combat, so Admiral Vir, please proceed.”

Admiral Vir stood and nodded to Kelly before taking his stand at the head of the table.

“As I was saying earlier, putting warp gates too far out near the border of the system is inadvisable and extremely risky. Even if those warp gates were to be accessed through a security code on the ship itself, I wouldn’t trust that someone wouldn’t be able to hack them. Which is why I suggest keeping the warp gates towards the center of the GA system, but not near planets themselves. There are only a few ships galaxy wide that can approach a planet unknown and unseen, those being the major command vessels used with most GA species. All other ships would require access to a warp gate, or be forced to do multiple warps before reaching the system giving viewers enough time to ready for an attack. My suggestion is, instead of trying to protect the entire GA system, we make hub nexuses around the most important sites, planets, colonies, stations, and warp gates. Then we station smaller military vessels around those areas to keep enemies out. If we were trying to cover the entire area, the only people who might be able to show up in time to defend against an entire arriving fleet are myself and a select few others. If that were to happen we might be completely taken out in one fell swoop. No, better to reinforce likely areas of attack, defend and use the warp gates for what really matters, and allow ships like mine to free float and provide support when needed.”

There was silence about the room as the other men and women nodded.

Admiral Massie glowered at him from the other side of the table.

Admiral Vir ignored him.

He played politics, but only so far as not playing was playing. He wasn’t looking to move up in the ranks, and he wasn’t looking to make enemies. Everyone in UNSC command knew and understood that he had only one goal, and that was to keep his people alive and well. While his unsheathed interactions with some of the other Admirals made him unpopular, particularly within the ranks of some of the older generations, it was hard to deny that he did his job well.

Then again he and Admiral Massie had been at each other’s throats since the start of Vir’s command.

Massie was a planetary isolationist and had opposed joining the GA since the beginning, while Admiral Vir was a staunch supporter of intergalactic cooperation and alliance. Admiral Massie was under the impression that Admiral Vir had romanticised the idea of extraterrestrial life to the detriment of earth itself, and Admiral Vir thought Admiral Massie was a pompous jack-off with more interest in his political career than he was in the lives of his men.

Both of them may have been right to a certain degree.

Either way the other admirals, while being somewhere middling on the spectrum, tended to lean towards agreeing with Admiral Vir when it came to discussions about planetary defence. He was, after all, the only one with personal experience in the area, and they didn’t really have time for Massie and his superiority complex.

It was for many of these reasons, that their meeting eventually steered itself towards a discussion on isolationism versus GA involvement.

“It isn’t our job to deal with THEIR problems. We lose trillions of dollars every year to the defence of alien species, and for what? What can they do for us that we cannot do for yourself as a much lower cost.”

“If it weren’t for our intervention, Admiral, the entire GA system would be overrun with Burg, and we would be next.” Admiral Vir cut in gently pounding his fist against the table for emphasis.

“Not if we fortify our own strongholds.” The man continued to argue.

Admiral Vir felt his skin going hot under the collar, but took a deep breath to calm himself, “You forget about the over ten human colonies that exist within GA airspace. This may have been an argument two years ago, but with those colonies in existence as of now, we cannot abandon them for an isolationist principle. Furthermore, we need the cooperation of the GA in order to buy and sell the materials needed to keep the economies of those colonies running. Without them we don’t have the resources, the time or the labor to be isolationists.” He relaxed back into his seat and allowed the other Admirals to jump in with their two cents.

He would have liked to stay quiet and just listen, buthe found he was actually a poor hand at keeping his mouth shut when someone was saying things that could be potentially harmful to the good of humanity.

He was only partially paying attention when a soft voice came in over his shoulder, “Admiral.”

He turned to look, finding a smartly dressed young lieutenant waiting at his side.

“The UN President is almost done with her address, and you’re up next.”

He nodded and took to his feet quietly excusing himself from the table as he followed her down the hallway. The automated catwalk whirred to life, and the two of them stood next to each other as they were carried off down the long hallway. On either side of them rain slashed against the windows in great sheets. The sky overhead was dark and overcast,and the green of the lawn was soaked in great frothing puddles.

He reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out his note cars glancing them over once more before putting them back in his pocket.

At the end of the catwalk two marines were waiting for him.

Ramirez grinned at him and Maverick raised an eyebrow as he stepped off the catwalk, “That’s a lovely expression.:” Maverick commented, “Are the Admirals not playing nice.”

He snorted slightly, “Most of them, but there are a few who just don’t seem to understand how space works, but I guess thant can be expected when you spend your entire career behind a desk.”

The two Marines nodded and fell into step beside him as he made his way towards the outer lawn where the press conferences were being held. A massive black tent had been erected just outside on the lawn, and the sky overhead was soon to grow dark. In the distance he could see the glowing neon of advertising signs hovering over the highway. Those same bright neon lights lit up the tent itself, and projected inflated pictures of the UN President onto the walls as she spoke.

Secret Service agents milled about on the lawn in the rain their jackets soaked and spitting water in a glistening halo of white. Even from here he could see the little strips of clear white tubing that marked their earpieces.

“A shit day to give an address.” He muttered as he was led towards the back entrance, taking a seat by the door as they waited for the president to finish. Rain continued to drum loudly on the tent and the windows at his side. The door was slightly cracked open, so he could just hear the sound of her voice over the pouring rain.

Off on the other side of the room Maverick was watching the address on her implant through her eyes were glazed with boredom.

Ramirez didn’t even pretend to pay attention and was, instead playing holographic paddle ball on his device.

Admiral Vir smiled a little and shook his head at the antics of some of his favorite marines before pulling out his notecards again and giving them a once over. This was becoming more common as his position became more and more political. When he was younger he would have balked at the idea of getting involved in politics, but somehow he had found himself to be the lynchpin holding intergalactic relations together, which turned out to be a very political position to have.

As it seemed his enthusiasm for joining the GA was not shared by everyone, and if if wasn’t for his popularity, and ability to hold their enemies at bay, talks and interaction with the GA might not have gone nearly as far as they had. The thought that he might be the only thing holding intergalactic relations together was nauseating. He was sure that wasn’t entirely the case, by now people understood that in order to have colonies, they had to have cooperation, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t an important part of all this.

It was his fault after all, and he would probably be blamed if things went south.

Outside cheering rose up, and he lifted his head and stood as the UN president was ushered back inside on a wave of applause.

Most of the secret service agents went with her, but security still stayed behind as he stepped past her and up to the lectern. WHen he had said tent earlier, he had not fully grasped the size of the place. It might as well have been an indoor auditorium with places to sit at the back and large projection screens.

A dim blue light fell over him from the side, and he tried not to look at how own awkward figure as he appeared on screen. Cameras flashed below him as reporters vied for the front seat. He set his notecards on the lectern and began to speak.

His heart hammered and his leg wobbled nervously, but that was common for him these days.

He was a decent public speaker, or was becoming proficient, but that still didn’t stop his nerves.

“The GA has asked me to take the time and announce that they have begun peace talks with the Lumin and the alien species known as the Mikes, who contacted us through long distance laser transmission just last week. The conferences will be held on the GA hub, and life updates will be broadcast to the GA website for the duration of those talks. As someone who has been active on the intergalactic stage since the beginning, I urge you all to-” His eyes drifted over the crowd as he continued with his speech, discussing the importance of voting for their representatives as a new election period was coming up. He stressed also the importance of a couple of economic bills which might strengthen their political report with the Tesraki. He had practiced this speech hundreds of times, and so the words flowed from his mouth with no real issue as he stared down into the crowd. He scanned his eyes over their faces, some of them smiling, some of them concentrated, and others downright annoyed with the words coming from his mouth.

He would have estimated that the ratio of pleased to displeased was three to one, though that percentage was still pretty high 33.3% wasn’t nothing.

He continued to scan the crowd eyes trailing up and towards the center of the crowd where a strange sort of commotion had started. The people parted, and as they did it was like watching a dog run through a field of grass where the stocks began to bend sideways under their weight.

His eyes tracked down to the source of the disruption even as he was speaking.

And found a figure dressed in a heavy black raincoat, face covered.

His voice was just beginning to trail off as the man or woman lifted their head and raised their arm.

Water dripped from the ceramic barrel, and the screaming began just as a loud CRACK erupted in the room.

And then he was plowed into the ground by what felt to be a speeding freight train. THe wind was knocked out of him as he landed on his back. His ears erupted into squealing static which drowned out the sound of secret service men running into the crowd and people screaming. The muzzle flash had left spots in his vision.

Was he hit?

He gasped for air unable to breath for two horrible seconds as the breath came flooding back to him. When his hearing came back the chaos was almost deafening enough to leave his ears ringing again.

A figure knelt in front of him.

Someone else Dived to his side as security flooded onto the stage with them.

Maverick grabbed his shoulder, “Are you hit.”

He looked down at himself, and his pristine grey uniform looking for a spot of red.

He ran his hands over his body, “I…. I don’t think so.” But if the bullet hadn’t thrown him to the ground than what….

He looked up to see Ramirez still kneeling in front of him. He must have seen it coming and tackled Adam to the ground before the shot was fired.

But something…. Something was wrong.

Adam crawled into a kneeling position and grabbed Ramirez by the shoulders. The other man hadn’t moved.’

Frantically he began to look Ramirez over, “Ramirez! Are you hit?”

The other man raised his head and his eyes were glassy, “I….I don’t know.”

The crowd had tightened around them, and he waved security off as he looked his friend over. As he scooted forward, grabbing Ramirez by the back of his uniform, he felt something wet and sticky against his hand.

He drew back…. Only to find his hand drenched in blood.

“SHIT! SOMEONE GET A DOCTOR!”

Ramirez swayed, and Adam caught him around the shoulders gently lowering him to the ground, “Woah, just, relax alright, you’re going to be ok. HE’S BEEN SHOT!”

Ramirez grunted still staring glassily into space.

“Help me roll him.: his voice was tight and strangled, as Maverick grabbed Ramirez by the shoulder and rolled him into his side. Adam could see the blood now, a large stain on his lower mid back.

He pulled up the shirt just to see the bullet hole oozing dark red, already smearing over the other man’s tanned skin, “Shit, shit, shit, Ramirez….. ANGEL!”

Angel grunted, “If you wanted my shirt off, you could have just asked nicely.”

“Is he going into shock?”

“I dont know I’m not a fucking doctor. Just keep him awake. Keep him talking!”

Adam ripped off his uniform jacket, wadding it into a tight ball which he pressed against the oozing wound. Maverick had pulled off her jacket and rolled it under Ramirez’s head. He groaned in pain as Adam applied pressure.

“It's alright, buddy, you're going to be alright, just hang in there.”

“That looks like it went through his kidney.” Maverick muttered.

“Shut up and keep him talking!”

Maverick nodded and patted Angel on the cheek, growing annoyed he wasn’t responding and then lightly slapping him. His eyes fluttered open, “Ow.”

“Stay awake damn it.”

“Bossy.” Angel muttered.

Just then a crack medical team burst through the line shooing everyone out of their way as they did. Adam backed up hands out speared with blood and as he let the professionals take over.

He listened to them talk, heard words coming out of their mouths but didn’t understand what they were saying. He was grabbed by the shoulder and urged to go inside where it was safe, but he shook them off vision fixed on his friend lolling helplessly on the ground, covered in blood.

The men and women removed his bloodied uniform jacket and pulled a blue cylinder from somewhere. It was shoved into the wound and a button was depressed. There was a sharp hissing noise and Angel groaned in pain, though when they withdrew the cylinder he was no longer bleeding.

Adam was dragged back as men rushed forward with a stretcher transferring his injured friend onto it and hurriedly dragging him away. Adam was waylaid by the security detail that dragged him into a safe room as everyone tried to figure out what had happened.

Angel’s blood began to dry on his hands.

The shooter hadn’t gotten far, and when detained it had been pretty clear that that bullet wasn’t just meant for the marine.

It had been meant for Adam himself.

Even though he knew that was likely the truth, that revelation still came to him as a shock, and his skin grew clammy and cold with the realization.

Angel had saved his life, and taken the bullet that was meant for him.

***

This realization still haunted him hours later as he sat in the waiting room at Mercy Core Hospital heavily guarded by a crack SWAT team and a small military garrison. He stared down at his hands, at the blood that had turned brown and was now flaking off in his hands and onto the waiting room floor. Blood stained the white shirt he wore underneath, and his tie hung loose and undone around his shoulders.

The commotion of footsteps out the door and he lifted his head towards the voices. He tried to understand what they were saying but, somehow, couldn’t. He chalked it up to his brain just not functioning correctly until the door burst inward and a short dark-haired woman burst into the room followed by a grey haired older woman, and a young girl.

They looked too much like Angel to be anyone but his family, and as they walked in Adam stood sharply nearly knocking his chair over in his haste. He realized now why he couldn't’ understand them before, they were speaking Spanish.

The middling woman’s eyes fell on him instantly and she rushed forward grabbing him by the wrists, “What, what happened, what do you know, is my son ok.”

He hadn’t truly grasped what had happened until just now, and fought hard to bite back the tears as he gave her the details, “He was shot, the doctors had to bring him into surgery about an hour ago…” Her eyes went wide with horror and shock, his throat squeezed tight causing his voice to rise in pitch though he tried to fight it down.

“He...he has the best medical care you could ask for…. Our ship doctor arrived…. Arrived on scene thirty minutes ago…. He… hes the best surgeon in the-galaxy.” He could barely speak now, his throat thick as if it was stuffed with cotton.

She put her hands over her mouth and turned in a distressed circle.

His eyes fell on the older grey haired woman and her eyes pierced into him like she could read his sole like a book.

He had heard enough stories about this woman to know who she was immediately.

Angel’s Abuela, the family matriarch.

Adam shrunk under the intensity of her gaze

Mother and, what must have been Angel’s younger sister were sitting together hugging each other for comfort. Adam stood awkwardly hands at his sides not wanting to intrude on grief that was…. Not his own, grief that was, in fact, caused by him.

It was his fault.

Angel had taken that bullet for him.

He should have been in that operating room. He bit the inside of his cheek took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears to absorb back into his eye.

The older woman was still watching him, and as he watched she walked over, and touched his arm gently, “What happened.” He opened his mouth to say he already told her but the expression she gave him made it pretty clear he had not given enough details, “I was giving an address to the crowd just outside UNSC headquarters. I was about halfway through when there was a disturbance in the crowd. I saw someone pull a gun, and then Angel tackled me to the floor just as it fired. We didn’t know who had been hit at first but, he…. It looked like it got him in the lower mid back….. I I tried to stop the bleeding but I… and then the paramedics came…. And I…. I…. I’m so sorry.” his voice hitched but he bit it back with gargantuan effort, “It should be me in there not him.”

He turned to look down at his feet

But then the hand came and touched his arm again, “It wasn’t your fault, boy. That’s just our Angel.”

And with those words he couldn’t fight it back, and warm hot tears began spilling down his face and onto his shirt. His vision blurred and he could barely see, but he felt arms wrap around him patting him on the back as the old woman’s voice came softly, “There there, he’s going to be alright, our Angel is strong. He’s going to be ok.”

He didn’t try to pull away from the old woman.

Her arms were warm and comforting, and he desperately wanted to believe her.

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ladylynse · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6 [FFN | AO3] of Forewarning

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

Based off this artwork by @hashtag-art. Happy birthday, @bibliophilea!

(beginning | previous)

-|-

Once safely back at the Mystery Shack, Wendy turned off the golf cart and grabbed her supplies from the rack in the back. It had been a bumpy ride, but she’d only needed to sacrifice one bag of marshmallows to the forest. That wasn’t bad, considering how many creatures she was fairly sure lived there.

And, fine, maybe it made her a little paranoid to think that some of the bumps she’d hit had been deliberate, a growth of tree roots just so or deep holes suspiciously covered with leaf litter, but it wasn’t like she voiced her thoughts to anyone else.

Besides, whatever lived in the forest seemed happy with the occasional sacrifice of candy. At the very least, she’d never been stopped by something yet, and she took a lot of shortcuts through here by herself. That wasn’t exactly recommended, even for those who knew the territory well. When her family went out for apocalypse training, they were supposed to pair off. They didn’t always, but they did more often than not.

It’s easier to survive if there’s someone you trust around to watch your back, but you have to know how to fight if there isn’t.

Whatever had stopped by the Mystery Shack wasn’t bringing the apocalypse with it—she was pretty sure about that—but she didn’t want this to turn into that. Taking the twins to see the haunted grocery store? Sure. She still hadn’t been sure they’d actually see ghosts despite the stories—no one had been until it had happened—but that was different. That was contained. That was very much not in the Mystery Shack. Where the kids slept. With only the oblivious skeptic Stan around to fight the things that went bump in the night.

Now, if those things were corporeal, she wouldn’t be concerned. The man knew how to punch, and he’d punch before asking questions. But whatever had turned up this time clearly had the option to not be corporeal. Like a ghost.

She remembered the footprints appearing in the scattered baking soda a split second before the boy who’d visited earlier appeared. The same boy who had flashed a careless grin and flipped through postcards and keychains and magnets in the gift shop before taking a tour with Mabel.

Whatever he was, he wasn’t a ghost, but he was entirely too much like a ghost for comfort.

There was no sign of Stan yet—not a surprise; she hadn’t heard his car—but chances were good he wasn’t far behind her.

She saw Soos walking in from the lane and raised her hand in a wave. He spotted her and held a finger to his lips before pointing, and something cold and heavy settled in her gut as she spotted three figures by the woodshed: Mabel, Dipper, and the not-a-ghost boy who’d called himself Danny.

She cursed under her breath as she hurried to meet Soos. “That’s him,” she hissed. “We need to get him away from the twins.”

“Did you find anything in town that we can use?”

“I bought a couple more boxes of salt.” Silver was expensive—too expensive for her, anyway—and she wasn’t exactly guaranteed to find holy water even if she tried breaking into a church, mostly because she didn’t know where she’d look for it. She could’ve bought a cast iron frying pan, but she might as well grab one from the kitchen. The ideas of what they might be able to do had quickly fallen apart when she’d realized what was actually feasible. “It’s better than nothing.”

“What about garlic?”

“For a ghost?”

“You said he wasn’t a ghost.”

“Close enough to a ghost. And, anyway, there should be some in the kitchen. We can always chop up a couple of cloves and see if it does anything.” If it didn’t, and they didn’t waste it, they could always throw it into hamburger meat or make garlic bread. “How long has he been here? The kid?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Soos allowed, “but this isn’t the first time the kids have met him.”

Wendy closed her eyes. “I know, I just…. I’d hoped they wouldn’t realize he wasn’t normal.” More to the point, she’d hoped that he wouldn’t come back. What the hell did he want, anyway? Sure, he’d said something about fixing whatever was wrong, but their ideas about what needed fixing weren’t likely the same.

“They might not. He was pretending to be normal when he talked to me.”

“He talked to you?”

“Just to ask after Dipper and Mabel.”

Wendy frowned. Soos didn’t sound too optimistic that Mabel and Dipper wouldn’t realize there was something weird about the kid, and frankly, she thought he was right. Mabel might be more forgiving, but Dipper…. “We’ll play it cool. Keep doing whatever you were doing. Try to keep an eye on them without being too obvious about it. I’ll prepare the fire pit.”

“The wood, campfire forks, hot dogs, marshmallows—?”

His gaze had wandered pointedly down to the box of salt pressing against the white plastic bag she carried, its blue label clearly visible. “Yeah. I won’t ring it thickly enough that it’s noticeable, especially since it’ll have to be in the gravel where nothing’s growing anyway, but if he’s going to pretend to be normal, then we’ll see how long he can keep that up.”

“And if he’s not affected by the salt?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And if we’re wrong and he is normal after all?”

Wendy snorted. “If he’s normal, he’s only normal for here.” She saw Soos shift uncomfortably and added, “If Stan comes back before I’m finished, give him the pitch about taking measures to ghost-proof the Mystery Shack and advertising doing that because it’s haunted. He’ll know how to get more of what we need, even if he doesn’t think it’ll do anything.”

“What if he’s not bad? The kid, I mean. Not everything is bad. Not everyone is bad.”

The kid had claimed he wasn’t a threat. He’d said he was stuck, that he just wanted to go home, that he had to fix something, not break it. What if it hadn’t been a lie? She didn’t see how his sneaking around could mean his intentions were honourable, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t missing something.

On the other hand, if he were simply determined to show a friendly face to the twins to get them to lower their guard, only to strike once he’d fooled them—

Wendy wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that risk. Having a healthy amount of suspicion now and apologizing later sounded much better to her than being overly trusting and being burned—especially if she wouldn’t be the only one caught in that fire. She and Soos had lived their entire lives here. Mabel and Dipper had not. They might not yet appreciate the degree to which not everything was as it appeared.

“You don’t need to be ready to attack,” Wendy finally said. “You just need to be ready to defend.” Soos nodded, maybe thinking her words were for both of them, but they weren’t. She had no intentions of simply being ready to defend. She wasn’t about to attack unprovoked, but if this kid did anything that set off alarm bells for her, she’d act on her gut. She trusted her gut more than her head. It was reliable in these sorts of situations.

The trouble was, her gut should have made a call on this already. Instead, she was still conflicted, and more time to mull it over on her trip into town hadn’t helped. Part of her still wanted to take the kid’s words at face value, but the little she’d seen of what he could do backed up the part of her that insisted he was far too dangerous to blindly trust. Soos wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was so much that could seem innocuous at first….

The knowledge that Soos was right and they had no idea if salt would actually help defend them didn’t make this any easier—especially when Danny was clearly interested in Mabel and Dipper. Soos had mentioned Dipper having a book, and she remembered seeing glimpses of it before. If that’s what the kid was interested in, how was she supposed to help Dipper and Mabel protect it while still protecting them?

Salt first. Purifying fire and questions later, if the kid decided to stick around for it. As long as he wasn’t hurting her friends, she was willing to give him a shovel and see how deep he dug.

XXXXXXX

Danny didn’t see the journal around, but Dipper apparently didn’t need it to draw his magic circle thing in the dirt. To be fair, Danny didn’t know if it was the same one as before, but he also didn’t want to find out. Which meant taking the initiative and trying to explain before they decided to pull more magic stuff on him.

“Please don’t do whatever you’re planning on doing,” he said, keeping his voice low in the hope that the guy he’d been talking to earlier wouldn’t hear it. “I just want to talk, I swear.”

“Are you ready to explain now?”

That was Dipper, with a bite in his voice that reminded Danny a bit of Valerie. Dipper might not sound even half as malicious as Valerie could when she was spitting curses at Phantom, but he was appropriately wary. “Yeah. But you have to promise you won’t try any magic stuff.”

“No. You’re not defenseless, and I’m not swearing away my ability to protect anyone.”

Oh. Right. He might think that particular promise carried more weight than a regular promise. He seemed to think giving his word would make it impossible to break. Danny didn’t know of any ghosts with that power, and frankly he didn’t want to meet one who had it. “You don’t have to. I just…. I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I only want to talk. And not, y’know, risk being exorcised if you don’t believe me.”

Mabel looked from Danny to her brother and raised an eyebrow. He scowled at her but said, “Fine. If you don’t do anything except tell us the truth right now, I won’t try to exorcise you.”

Not ideal, but it wasn’t like Danny was planning on lying through his teeth to them, anyway—or that he couldn’t still attempt a lie if he felt he needed to. He had a feeling it wouldn’t work, though. He hadn’t had a whole lot of luck earlier. Maybe seeing through that thing was a kind of survival instinct around here, just like Secret Lab Guy had said.

Come to that, though— How had he had an entire conversation with someone, spilled half his life story to that someone, and not actually gotten their name?

Whatever. He’d ask later if he didn’t figure it out before then. It just proved the point, though. These people were good. Sharper than he was used to, unless almost everyone in Amity Park had already figured out his secret and was just being nice and waiting for him to make some kind of grand announcement.

Yeah, right. If Amity Park’s continued obliviousness wasn’t natural, then Vlad had done something. Not something Danny would thank him for, exactly, but something he wouldn’t fault him for, either.

“Thanks. Can I sit?” There weren’t chairs. There weren’t even logs. Dipper would be able to tell that he was staring at the circle drawn in the dirt, though, and know the question for what it was.

Mabel reached out one foot and drew a line through it with the toe of her shoe. “Yup!” she said, dropping down in place. “Pull up some grass.”

Dipper glared at her as Danny sat down on a patch that was more gravel than grass, but the other boy didn’t say anything; he just settled down and looked like he’d be ready to grab the axe beside him at a moment’s notice. Danny didn’t really want to find out if he knew how to use it. Then again, going by the assorted sizes of split logs nearby, he wasn’t overly skilled; even if it wasn’t a normal axe that Danny could avoid with intangibility, there was a good chance that Dipper was clumsy enough with it that he’d be easy enough to avoid.

“I’m sorry about not being entirely straight with you earlier when I said I would be.” Danny didn’t know where to begin, but an apology seemed smart when he still wanted their help.

“Which time, Phantom?”

Well, at least there wasn’t any lingering doubt. Danny sucked in a breath and let it out slowly to give himself a bit of time to think. Mabel looked ready to listen, but Dipper…. He still wasn’t sure about Dipper. “This isn’t exactly something I tend to tell strangers,” Danny said slowly, “but you’re right. I’m Phantom. I’m the one you let out of the thermos.”

Dipper was still practicing his glare, but Mabel asked, “So what are you? You’re not a ghost. We’ve seen ghosts.”

“I’m still a ghost,” Danny said, since as far as he knew, that was true. “Just…part ghost. Part human.” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered them a smile. “Remember when I joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety?”

“You expect us to believe you were in some sort of accident,” Dipper said flatly.

They didn’t need to know all the details, but— “Yeah. Lab accident. It didn’t kill me, or at least I don’t think it did, but I did get ghost powers, so that’s cool. Not something I’d recommend to anyone, but cool.”

Okay, Dipper definitely didn’t believe that, but Mabel nodded as if Danny had said something normal and not what probably sounded insane. “Why were you in the thermos?”

“Clockwork, I think. He’s the one who gave me the message to warn you in the first place, remember? Also the one who likes to pretend he doesn’t interfere but interferes like this. I thought it was Vlad, until I…until I realized how long it had been. And, no, before you ask, I don’t know who wrote that journal. I wasn’t lying about that. The only important bit I lied about was ‘Danny Fenton’ being a friend.”

“Why fess up now?” Dipper’s question was a challenge, sure, but Danny could hear the genuine curiosity behind it. Chance were, he wasn’t a great liar, either.

“Because I might need your help to get home. Especially if that help involves you trusting me enough to let me help you and you not trying to kill me first.”

“What were you looking for earlier?” Danny blinked, trying to figure out what that meant, and Dipper must have read that confusion on his face because he elaborated, “Mabel heard you. We know you were back before you showed yourself now.”

Right. She had been in the gift shop area, hadn’t she? “I was trying to find some clue about what else I’m supposed to do here.”

“And?”

That meant did you find it? Danny might’ve promised them the truth, but he’d also promised the other guy that he wouldn’t blow that secret, either. More or less. Hopefully that wasn’t what he was supposed to do here? “There’s something weird about this place,” he said instead. “It’s got this…feeling. I don’t know how to describe it.” It was something unnerving, like the feeling the Fright Knight could give you, but with more…. More I’m-watching-you vibes. Vlad times a hundred. If he didn’t need to stick around to get home, he’d be gone by now. Whatever Clockwork was trying to warn these guys away from, it felt like a danger on par with Pariah Dark.

Not that he’d be able to explain that to them.

Mabel reached over to poke Dipper in the arm. “Show him the journal.”

That would make things a lot easier for him. “I could tell you what it has wrong about ghosts. Or at least about me,” he offered. He wanted to do that regardless, but if he could give them more reason to show him, well….

“It seems to be right about you,” Dipper said, “unless you want to pretend that you’ve never been affected by anything we’ve done.”

Danny blew out a breath. “Look. Being part ghost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from everything that works on ghosts. It also means that I need to be careful around hunters, including you guys. But I’m not here to fight you or steal something or whatever your book says about me. I’m the good guy, I swear.”

“The good guy. Who needs his own little dedicated section in the journal.”

“Dedicated section?” That sounded worrisome. How much info did these guys have on him? Some of it had to be accurate, but if it was just full of things he’d done as a ghost with no context, like the stealing—

“More like a paragraph,” Mabel interrupted, “and it’s not even in the same language as the rest of it.”

Wait.

“Not the same language? What language is it?”

“See for yourself,” Mabel said. She elbowed Dipper when he didn’t immediately produce the journal and offer it up and then hissed a few things in his ear for good measure, which finally seemed to convince him. He pulled the journal out from beneath the vest he’d been wearing earlier, flipped through to the right page, and turned it around to show Danny.

Danny leaned closer, but he didn’t recognize the language, either. If it was something ghosts spoke, he’d never seen it written down, but aside from Wulf, most of the ghosts he’d met spoke English. He didn’t know how many other languages they spoke, though. He’d never asked. If this was some common language he had yet to learn….

“It might be the way it’s coded,” Dipper admitted, “instead of actually being in a different language. Some passages in the journal are coded, but they’re all the same code, except for this. I haven’t had any luck cracking it.”

Danny frowned, reading the page over before Dipper could take it away. He couldn’t see anything about a thermos or anything else that would have led them to him in the first place, but there was a bit of gibberish above that section written in green ink that might be the first code—

Wait. Green ink? Everything else in here was black or blue or some kind of brown that Danny really hoped wasn’t blood. “What else is written in this colour?” he asked, pointing to the passage.

“That’s it.”

“In the entire book?” That didn’t make sense. “But…why?”

“When I find the author of the journals,” Dipper said bluntly, “that won’t be one of the first questions I ask.”

“It won’t even be one of the first hundred,” Mabel added. “Dipper’s never understood the importance of colour.”

To be fair, it wasn’t typically high on Danny’s list of priorities, either, but this colour thing was definitely strange. How many other weird things were in that book if this didn’t make the list?

“Does it mean something to you?” Mabel asked.

Danny hesitated. The fact that it happened to be the same colour as his eyes—or his ectoplasm—in ghost mode could be a coincidence, but things tended to be a lot less coincidental when Clockwork was involved. Danny wasn’t really ready to bet that whoever had written this journal had simply run out of every other colour of pen that day. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but only in that it might point toward me.” Or another ghost like him. Hopefully not Danielle.

“So do you know who wrote it?” she prompted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know the handwriting. That’s not saying much, though. There are a lot of people—and ghosts—I know whose handwriting I’d never recognize.” He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the Ghost Writer’s handwriting. “What does the other part say about me?”

“That something was stuck in a thermos behind the shack,” Mabel answered immediately, ignoring her brother’s glare. “Which it was.”

“It’s a Fenton Thermos, something specifically designed to contain ghosts. My parents build them.” If he wasn’t trying to keep his secret anymore, there was no harm in admitting that. “They’re paranormal scientists and inventors.”

“Like the author of the journal is,” Mabel said, shooting Dipper a pointed look. “That must be why the bit about the thermos is in there.”

“Not— I mean, I’m not thirty years old. Seriously. Do I look that old to you? I just turned fifteen last week.” Well. Last week for him. Not for whenever this was, five years in his future. “Me being in the thermos is Clockwork’s fault.” Probably. Except Clockwork wouldn’t have needed to catch him in a thermos to force him back here; he could’ve simply asked and called in a favour if Danny had complained, which he would’ve. More likely, Clockwork had merely taken advantage of someone else capturing him in a thermos, and that list of possibilities was long—and included more than one ally, even when the capturing was intentional.

“I don’t know all the details, okay? I just…. I haven’t met a ghost besides Clockwork that messes with time.” His evil future self didn’t count, not when Clockwork’s power had still been the vehicle for everything he’d done.

…Danny really hoped this had nothing to do with him. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t appreciate the thermos parallels.

Of course, now that he thought about it, the fact that he’d been stuck in a thermos had to be deliberate. Sure, it was a way to skirt the notice of the Observants, but Clockwork had messed with the timeline before without doing anything sneaky like that. If the thermos was important…. Coupled with the fact that there was a portal being built beneath a place called the Mystery Shack….

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You care to share with the class?” Dipper asked.

“The thermos, the portal—”

“What portal?”

Oops. “The, y’know, whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is, you said the author of the journals was a paranormal scientist? Maybe an inventor, too?”

“No, no, don’t change the subject. What portal?”

“Like a portal to another dimension?” Mabel queried. “Is that why you talked about interdimensional safety earlier?”

Oh, crud. They weren’t going to let his slip about the portal go. So much for that secret. “Just…never mind that right now. Paranormal scientist. Inventor. Like my parents. He probably didn’t know them, it would’ve been too early on for them to have made a name for themselves, they might not even have been together yet, but…. Okay. This is gonna sound crazy—”

“Crazier than everything else you’ve said?” Dipper asked dryly.

“—but just go with me on this. Please. I know what happened when my parents messed stuff up, and—”

“And you’re warning us so we’re prepared and more careful,” Mabel finished. “So I don’t get impatient and Dipper doesn’t get complacent.”

Danny frowned. “What?”

“Your warning,” she repeated. “You’re not trying to get us to stop what we’re doing. It’s a terrible warning for that. That kind of thing just makes you wanna do it more, whatever it is. So you’re actually warning us to be more careful than you think we would be otherwise.”

Danny opened his mouth to tell her that warning someone not to do something obviously meant they shouldn’t do it, and then he remembered all the times his parents had warned him not to touch stuff in the lab.

Right.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

Just because that was what a warning meant, didn’t mean it would always have the desired effect.

Moreover, Clockwork would know exactly what to have Danny say to get the desired effect.

He’d thought he’d come to help with the portal, but he still didn’t know the blueprints of his parents’ portal as well as Tucker did. If this were just about helping them build or fix the portal in the basement without bad consequences, Tucker was a better choice than he was, and Clockwork could most definitely have arranged that.

But Danny had joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety, and he could still disassemble and reassemble most of his parents’ weapons in order to tweak them, even if he wasn’t as good at it as Tucker, and he’d be an idiot to keep ignoring the fact that Clockwork had made sure he had a thermos here.

The thermos wasn’t for him. It had never been for him. It had contained him, sure, but Clockwork must’ve made sure he was stuck in one so that he’d think of this. So that he’d think of what they’d done with his evil future self. And so he’d have it when he needed it.

There was a portal in a secret lab in the basement of the Mystery Shack, and the thermos written about in Dipper’s journal was for whatever was coming out of it.

(see more fics | next)

#gravity falls #danny phantom #phantom falls #crossover #fanfiction #gf fanfiction #dp fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #gf snippet #dp snippet

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empoleon · 3 years

Text

funny how it works out, innit?

• rated t, one shot, 4310 words

• also available to read here

Leon hates when Raihan’s alarm would sound off in the morning for two reasons. The first is plainly obvious—it means he has to get up and out of the warmth that so pleasantly held him all night long.

He shuts his eyes a bit tighter while silently hoping the annoying beeps coming from Rotom would somehow turn into some sort of white noise. That idea sounded lovely in his mind.

There’s a bit of movement to the left of him and an arm is suddenly grabbing at his bare thigh.

“Lee,” Raihan’s voice is thick with sleep, “time to get up. Joggin’ this morning, remember?”

Ah, there it is. That is Leon’s second reason for hating the alarm. Whoever thought of going for morning runs at 5AM was a real bastard.

Rotom stops its incessant beeping and Leon hopes, no, prays, that maybe this will finally be the morning where Raihan changes his mind and they both sleep in instead.

The covers move slightly and the next thing Leon feels is Raihan’s lips brushing up against his shoulder.

“Do you need some motivation?” he asks Leon quietly. He moves his lips up near Leon’s neck, and then his jawline, pausing for a moment. “You need to shave.”

“I feel so inspired, thank you,” Leon mutters, but there’s no bite in his tone.

Raihan pecks him on the cheek and grins. “You’ll feel even better after our run. I’ll be in the shower.”

Leon sighs and nods his head. “Alright, I’m getting up.”

Leon definitely did need to shave, much to his own surprise. He swears that some nights it’s as though his facial hair goes through some strange growth cycle.

He carefully brings the razor down his jawline and wipes away any excess shaving cream that is left over.

“Oi, Rotom!”

Raihan’s voice almost causes Leon to nick himself. “You don’t need to yell! I’m in here too, y’know.”

“Ah, sorry,” his voice sounds muffled momentarily and then he peeks his head out from around the shower curtain. “Hi.”

Leon spares him a glance before turning his attention back to his reflection in the mirror, trying his hardest not to smile.

“So…” Raihan begins, “can you—”

“Can I do you a favor?” Leon cuts him off, angling the razor down his chin.

He shouldn’t look at Raihan. He really, really, shouldn’t, not because of the obvious oh he’s naked reasoning that yes, does make sense, but rather Leon shouldn’t because if he does, he will end up laughing.

“You know me so well, love,” Raihan smiles at him. “Could you grab Rotom for me?”

Leon wipes off the remaining shaving cream off of his face with a cloth and sets it on the sink countertop. He finally dares to look over at Raihan and breaks into a fit of laughter.

“You’re awful, you know?” he says between laughs. “Absolutely awful.”

Raihan tries to pout at him, but he only succeeds in looking silly—being wet, naked, and wearing a shower cap with Goomy patterns on it isn’t doing him any favors.

Leon concedes and quickly steps out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom, locating Raihan’s Rotom Phone near his side of the bed.

The passcode has always been easy to guess, even if Raihan rarely ever updates it. Leon has Rotom pull up the music app before he walks back to the bathroom. He swings the door open and clears his throat loudly.

“I see the crystal raindrops fall, and the beauty of it all is when the sun comes shining through.”

Raihan yells something at him, probably something along the lines of questioning what he’s doing, but Leon pays no mind to it.

“To make those rainbows in my mind, when I think of you sometime and I wanna spend some time with you.”

“Stop,” Raihan sticks his arm out from the shower and tries to grab at Leon, but he misses. “You’re off-key!”

The chorus of the song begins to play and Leon starts to dance—he only manages to thrust his hips one time before Raihan steals the phone out of his hands.

“Out,” he demands, a grin on his face. “Get out and go get dressed, you tosser.”

Leon complies and blows him a kiss. “See you in a few!”

“Do you want to stay home or come with me?” Leon asks Charizard.

It’s funny when he asks that—Raihan’s apartment in Hammerlocke isn’t exactly their home, but with the amount of time Leon spends here, it may as well be.

He gently scratches at Charizard’s chin, moving his hands up towards his horns. The Pokémon makes a quiet, pleased grunt in reply.

“Yes? You’ll have to stay in your ball though,” Leon reminds him. Charizard nods his head.

“Alright then,” Leon smiles at him.

Raihan rounds the corner and steps into the room, tugging a shirt over his head. “I can’t find my gloves—”

“I got ’em,” Leon holds up the thin pair in his hands. “We’re still getting coffee afterwards, right?”

“Ta, love,” Raihan takes the gloves from him. “Yeah, we are. Big guy coming with us?” he glances at Charizard.

“Yep, just him,” Leon nodded his head and held up a Poké Ball, returning Charizard for now.

They both head towards the apartment door and step outside, Leon first and Raihan after him, making sure to lock the door behind them.

“Arceus, why do I agree to do this with you?” Leon shivered and jumped up and down, trying to warm himself up. It was closer to six in the morning now, but that definitely didn’t make it any warmer outside.

“Because it’s good for you,” Raihan reminds him as he turns around. “Also, you love me, so,” he shrugs and smiles.

Leon pauses to look at Raihan, regarding him silently while he fixes his locs.

I really do love you, he thinks. It brings a smile to his face.

People always wave and say hello whenever they go on their morning runs. It’s nice.

“Look, it’s the Chairman!”

“And Raihan, too! How cool!”

Leon is often surprised at how many citizens are actually out doing things at this hour—children, too.

There’s a small cafe next to the Pokémon Center they stopped at. Leon is leaning against the brick outside, catching his breath while Raihan orders them coffee. He cups his hands together and blows on them, trying to warm them up.

A group of young boys nearby are battling Pokémon out in the small courtyard that is adjacent to the cafe. Leon watches them with a small smile.

“Piping hot,” Raihan exits the cafe carrying two medium-sized plastic cups. “’ere you go,” he hands one of them off to Leon, who takes it graciously.

“Do you know what that’s all about?” Leon takes a sip out of his cup and motions across the way to a small hanging advertisement on one of Hammerlocke’s many skyscrapers.

Raihan leans forward and tries to make out the fine print on the sign. “Uh… something about weddings, I think. It’s this new thing the city’s been promoting since spring is around the corner.”

“Weddings? In Hammerlocke?” Leon raises an eyebrow. “You’d think Wyndon would be more of a hotspot for such a thing.”

“Oi, watch it,” Raihan nudges him with an elbow. “You and I both know it’s quite lovely here all year round.”

“Hey, Mr. Raihan?”

One of the young boys who was battling runs over towards them before Leon has a chance to come up with a rebuttal.

“’ello, chap!” Raihan squats down to greet him. “Something the matter?”

The boy glances between the two of them and back at his friend before he speaks up. “We were wonderin’ if you could give us some pointers.”

Leon chuckles. “Popular this morning, aren’t we?”

“Oh, shush,” Raihan elbows him once again before turning his attention to the boy. “I’d be happy to, but are you sure you wouldn’t rather have the former Champion give you some tips?”

“We want him to watch!” the boy exclaimed. “Please don’t go anywhere,” he tells Leon earnestly, to which he laughs again.

“I’ll be right here then,” he nods his head.

The young boy leads Raihan over towards his friend while Leon watches them with amusement. About a month or so ago, it probably would have made him feel a bit bad about himself if any young Pokémon trainers weren’t interested in… who he was.

Everything is different now though, of course. He’s happy to no longer be the one always in the spotlight.

A group of Rookidee fly overhead and their chirps blend together with the sound of Raihan’s voice and the two young trainers laughing.

“Mr. Chairman, we will need you to go over this and sign it sometime this week,” a league staff member hands Leon a small stack of documents.

“Alright, sure thing,” he flips through the papers briefly. “I don’t have any meetings scheduled for this evening, right?”

“No, sir.”

“Great, thank you—”

Leon’s Rotom Phone flies straight into his face and flashes its screen. “You have a new message, Leon!”

The league staff member excuses themself from the room and Leon sighs.

“Quite the entrance, Rotom, but didn’t we talk about this?” he frowns. “When I’m busy you can’t just fly in here at random, unless—”

“It is a message from Raihan!” Rotom tells him in its high-pitched voice.

That changes Leon’s demeanor immediately. “Oh.”

He ends up calling Raihan instead because he absolutely loathes texting the man.

“I don’t see anything… are you sure it was an explosion?”

Leon is staring out one of the glass panels in the Battle Tower, scanning the local area. His Rotom Phone is hovering beside him.

“I’m telling you, I heard some kind of loud bang,” Raihan’s voice says over the line. “I’m at the boutique right now, by the way. Can I use your discount?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Leon says absentmindedly. “Oh wait—I think I do see something.”

There’s a puff of smoke out in the horizon that is faintly tinged blue and purple. It’s hard to make it out for certain, but if Leon didn’t know any better, he would say it looks like—

“Leon? Are you there?” Raihan asks him after a moment.

“It’s a wedding ceremony,” Leon sounds breathless. “Wow, it’s beautiful.”

There are countless Butterfree and Pidove flying over the area from what he can see after the smoke begins to fade.

“—weather, really?”

Leon blinks and shakes his head. “Come again?”

“I said with this weather I’m surprised,” Raihan’s voice expresses his astonishment. “It tried to snow just the other day!”

“It sure is pretty, though,” Leon presses a hand up against the glass window. His breath fogs up the view for a second and he wipes at it with his sleeve. “I told you Wyndon is perfect for these kinds of events.”

“Yeah, yeah,” even without seeing it, Leon knows Raihan is rolling his eyes. “You’re still meeting me at the station once you’re done with your work, right?”

Leon chuckles and steps away from the window. “If you’ll still have me for dinner, yes.”

“Wouldn’t change that for the world, love,” Rahain tells him.

“Why do I have to be here with you again, Lee?” Hop trudges along behind his brother as they walk towards a local jeweler’s store. “It’s so early,” he whines.

“This place opens at nine,” Leon glances down at his wristwatch to check the time. 8:42 is displayed in a bright green color.

“That doesn’t answer my question, though,” Hop stops Leon from crossing the street and points to his left. “Wouldn’t Sonia be a more suitable friend to ask?”

Leon turns his head to glance down the street and frowns. He could have sworn they needed to cross here, but apparently he was wrong.

“No way could I ask Sonia to come with me,” he says after a moment. “She’d have a laugh at me, for sure.”

“And you think I won’t?” Hop grins at his older brother while they walk down the pavement.

“The difference is,” Leon pauses in front of the shop’s door once they reach it. “I can handle your jokes, little bro. I’ll never hear the end of this from Sonia once she finds out.”

“Do you need any help today, sir?”

Leon is about to speak up, but Hop beats him to it. “We’re good, thank you.”

After the clerk walks away, he turns towards Leon and shoots him a look. “You’re going to blow your cover if you speak to anyone!”

Leon winces and nods his head. “Alright, alright—I forgot, sorry.”

They’re the only two customers currently inside the quaint shop due to it being so early. Hop is dressed fairly normal, mostly because he had no idea where Leon was planning to bring him at such an early hour.

Leon, on the other hand, tried his best to look inconspicuous—he doesn’t need the media finding out about this yet. That apparently means donning his usual attire, fairly casual, including a snapback—yes, the picture perfect example of being discreet.

At least he opted to wear a pair of sunglasses.

“What do you think of this?” Leon points to a certain piece behind some glass. “It should match his eyes, yeah?”

“That is so corny, Lee,” Hop snickers. “You’re absolutely whipped.”

“Don’t start with me,” he tries to sound stern, but it’s extremely difficult for him to hide the smile that’s spreading across his face. It’s true.

Hop steps to the side of him and peers into the glass display.

“He’ll love it,” he says after a moment, and it helps to calm Leon’s budding nerves. “It’s perfect.”

Leon waits one whole week before he decides to give Raihan the present he bought for him. It’s been safely tucked away in a spot where no one would dare to look—Leon’s closet.

(which is actually raihan’s spare closet in his apartment, but leon has turned it into an endless hoard of snapbacks and joggers.)

He’s equal parts nervous and excited when he hears the door click open that evening and the familiar sound of Raihan setting his bag on the floor.

Leon slides into the hallway on his socks, excited. “Welcome home!”

In his head, he pictured Raihan coming home all cheery and bright, like he normally would. Unfortunately, that is not how this particular evening pans out.

Raihan looks… tired. Exhausted is probably a better word for it.

“You alright?” Leon walks over towards him and holds out his arms. Raihan eagerly leans into the welcoming embrace.

“Yeah, ’m just really knackered,” he sighs and presses his face into Leon’s shoulder. “Sonia had called and—”

“Sonia called?” Leon gently nudges him back and leads him into their living room. “Why?”

“She’s been doing some research and me, being the nice bloke that I am—”

Leon pauses to consider this. “You are pretty nice.”

“I know,” Raihan grins as he sits down on the sofa. “Anyway, I told her I could poke around in the vault, see if there’d be anything of use.”

“And you ended up staying there for hours, right?” Leon knows him too well. Raihan is always the one offering to lend a hand if need be.

“I almost couldn’t get up after I realized how late it was getting,” he groans and flops back into the cushions. “Sitting hunched over for so bloody long was a mistake on my part.”

“Gotta take care of yourself, y’know,” Leon walks into the kitchen for a brief moment before poking his head back around the doorway. “Did you have supper already? If not, I could reheat you some leftovers.”

Raihan slowly rises up from the sofa and stretches. “Nah, I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Well this certainly isn’t part of Leon’s grand plan to give Raihan his present.

“Are you sure?” For some reason, Leon can’t bring himself to move out of the doorway in the kitchen. He should try to think of something to keep Raihan busy so he could—

“Yeah, I’m good,” he gives Leon a lopsided smile. “I’ll see you in a bit. Night.”

“Night,” Leon softly parrots it back to him. He watches quietly while Raihan leaves the room and ascends the stairs.

There’s always tomorrow, he tells himself. What’s one more day?

“Yeah,” Leon nods his head and pats his face, feeling more determined. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

It doesn’t take him long to turn off the lights in the kitchen and head upstairs himself, wondering if Raihan already made it into bed or if he decided to take a shower beforehand.

Leon can’t say he’s surprised when he steps into Raihan’s bedroom and finds the man curled up under the covers instead.

He stops by the edge of the bed and runs his hand along the outline of Raihan’s calf.

“Did you wash your face?” Leon murmurs the question. His fingers move up slowly towards the head of the bed and he rests his hand on Raihan’s shoulder.

“No,” is the sleepy reply he gets a second later. It partially sounds like a groan. “Didn’t think of it, actually.”

“That’s alright,” Leon’s hand moves towards Raihan’s cheek and caresses his skin. “Missing one day won’t hurt.”

“You coming to bed?” Raihan sticks his hand out from the covers and blindly tries to grab at Leon’s arm to pull him closer.

“Yep, budge over,” he proceeds to climb on top of Raihan and sprawls out across his body, which causes both men to start laughing.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

Leon thinks he made a mistake when he decided to do this in the morning. He forgot about his number one enemy—the bloody alarm.

He rolls over onto his back and yawns. The alarm ceases its beeping and Leon turns his head to look over at Raihan.

“Mornin’,” he says with a small smile.

Raihan’s voice is a bit muffled, but Leon is pretty certain he heard him say it back, and then there are arms wrapping around Leon’s waist.

“Are we going for a run today?” Leon asks him, assuming he already knows the answer. The bed is pleasantly comfortable this morning, but he’s not going to hold his breath on the chance that today might finally be one day they get to sleep in.

“No way,” Raihan buries his face into Leon’s shoulder and sighs. “I want to sleep.”

Leon blinks at him. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Alright,” he isn’t going to argue or ask why—he wants to enjoy this for as long as possible.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he wakes up again, but he hears water running and music playing.

Leon rolls over to check the time—10:30. Not too late at least.

He sits up and stretches, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “Raihan?”

“Yes?” his voice carries out from the bathroom, definitely sounding more cheerful than he did last night.

“Good morning!” Leon calls out. “Are you showering?”

Raihan pokes his head out the bathroom doorway. “Not yet, why? Need the loo?”

“Nah, just wanted to see your lovely face before you clean up,” he grins. “Don’t take too long, alright?”

“Mhm,” Raihan doesn’t sound convinced. He steps out of the bathroom and crosses his arms. “Are you going to sit there and wait until I’m done then?”

Leon nods his head solemnly. “Yep.”

An eyebrow is raised and a look is shared between the two men, but neither one of them says anything else. Raihan shrugs and returns to the bathroom, and Leon…

Leon decides to act. Quickly. Before he loses his nerve again.

He gets up from the bed and walks over to the closet, finding the gift he hid among his clothes. The store clerk had wrapped it in a small grey box with a ribbon on top. Nothing too flashy.

“Okay,” Leon whispers to himself. “Okay, I can do this. I’ll practice and—it’ll be fine, yeah.”

He paces back and forth in the bedroom for a few moments before he stops and takes a deep breath.

Kneeling down is easy, so he doesn’t have to practice that part. But what in the world is he going to say?

“Oi, Lee? D’you mind grabbing me a shirt?”

Raihan barely has one foot into their bedroom and he turns his head and sees Leon and more importantly, what Leon’s doing.

“Oh,” Leon’s brows raise up the second he remembers he’s still down on one knee.

“What are you… doing?” Raihan asks him slowly.

“Marry me?”

His voice cracks, and it is absolutely embarrassing the living hell out of Leon, but he did it. He feels proud of himself, in a way.

Raihan simply stares at him and says nothing at first. The shower head running in the bathroom is the only other noise that can be heard.

“Lee,” he swallows before continuing, “you want to do this right now?”

Leon nods his head energetically. “Yes.”

“I’m in my knickers,” Raihan gestures to himself and lets out a shaky laugh. “Seriously? You’re not having a laugh at me?”

“No,” Leon scrambles to stand up and reaches out to grab Raihan by his shoulders. “No, never. I promise. I love you.”

A flicker of emotion crosses Raihan’s features before he ends up wrapping his arms around Leon’s waist and pulls him into an embrace.

“You’re a complete knobhead, you know that?” Raihan buries his face into Leon’s shoulder. “I love you so much.”

“So is that a yes… or?” Leon is hesitant to ask.

Yes, yes,” Raihan nods his head. He pulls Leon back and smiles at him. “A thousand times yes.”

Leon grins up at him and carefully takes Raihan’s left hand into his own, slipping the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly and now that Leon can see it on Raihan’s hand, he’s glad he picked the one with a thin stripe of cerulean.

He feels like he’s floating on an Altaria’s wings, knowing that he’s finally going to be marrying his best friend.

There’s this look on Raihan’s face though, and it’s gone within a second, but it’s as though he suddenly remembered something. Leon almost doesn’t catch it.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Promise me you won’t get upset?” Raihan bites his lip.

Leon immediately assumes the worst—this is a mistake, he doesn’t want to marry you—but he slowly nods his head and tries to prepare himself.

Raihan steps away for a moment and walks over towards his side of the bed, rummaging through the nightstand. He pulls out a small box that looks identical to the one Leon had.

“No,” Leon gasps, mouth agape with disbelief. “Bloody hell, you’re kidding right?”

“I wish I was,” Raihan sits down on the edge of the bed and holds out the box for Leon to take.

This box is dark blue in color and velvet—it feels very soft to Leon’s touch. When he opens it, he can’t help but laugh.

“This is beautiful,” he says after a moment of examining the silver ring. “How long have you had this hidden?”

Raihan counts with his fingers. “About two weeks, I think. Almost three. I was trying to find the right time to—well, you know—but I guess you beat me to it.”

Leon sits down next to him and hands the box back over. “You can still ask me if you want.”

He glances at Raihan to see him considering this.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” Leon says without any hesitation. “Please?”

Raihan gets up and moves himself into position in front of Leon. He looks into those amber eyes, takes a deep breath—and he starts to laugh instead.

“Oh, come off it!” Leon playfully shoves at him. “You need to say it!”

The laughter subsides as Raihan tries to compose himself again. He slowly takes one of Leon’s hands into his own and glances up at him.

“Will you marry me?”

Leon nods his head enthusiastically. “Yes,” and to the surprise of no one, his voice cracks a bit again.

Raihan slides the ring onto Leon’s finger with a steady hand, right before he’s tackled back onto the floor by his new fiancé.

“I love you so much,” Leon peppers Raihan’s face with kisses. “So very, very much.”

“So,” Raihan starts to say, “ceremony in Wyndon, after party in Hammerlocke?”

They’re having lunch at the Battle Café in Motostoke. It’s been approximately two days since they both proposed to each other.

Leon is fiddling with his ring, barely paying attention to a single word Raihan says when he nods his head.

“And honeymoon in… Postwick,” Raihan settles on saying, waiting for Leon’s actual reaction.

It works quite comically. Leon finally snaps his head up in horror. “No, absolutely not in Postwick. Are you mad?”

“Nope,” Raihan grins. “Just wondering when you’re going to stop staring at your hand. I know it’s pretty, but I am right here, you know.”

“So you’re saying I should be paying attention to you,” Leon bites back a smirk. He doesn’t phrase it as a question and states it as though it’s obvious.

(of course it is.)

Raihan nods his head. “Well, that would be nice.”

Leon holds out his hands and waits for Raihan to reach across the table and lace their fingers together.

“I love you,” he says with a warm smile, bringing Raihan’s hands up towards his lips. Kisses are pressed along his knuckles and Leon pauses once he reaches the silver band.

At least he took his eyes off of his own ring for a moment.

Raihan returns the gesture with a gentle squeeze. “I love you more. What about Alola?”

“Alola sounds perfect,” he agrees.

#pokemon #leon #raihan #truerivalshipping #fanfic #fic #texte #my writing #woohoo long time no post (kind of haha)#i lurk more on here now than i post anymore it seems #anyway hope y'all are doing alright o/#i haven't written much lately... this is something that i feel like i've been sitting on for MONTHS #but honestly who am i kidding i start fics and then they sit as wips for god knows how long dgkjsgsh #pretty sure my last fic i tagged it with some shit like 'too much dialogue' well guess what past me? u were absolutely right #these boys talk SO much my hands slipped and let a waterfall of talking take place #also the title i regret to admit is some lyric from some song that has nothing to do with the setting but well. can't pass up a lyric that #has the word 'innit' in it y'know? ok i'm done rambling i think peace and love

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theawkwardterrier · 3 years

Note

How about 14 + 21, dealer's choice pairing?

On This Thanksgiving Day

Prompt: Stuck together for a long period of time/“They’re wrong about you.”

Summary: Sloan’s first time meeting Don’s family doesn’t go particularly well. (The dialogue came to me in Thomas Sadoski’s voice, so I guess the dealer wanted Don/Sloan for you, Sarah.)

“Apparently we don’t have very good luck on trips together,” Sloan says, although not precisely to him. She’s facing out the window, as if she can see anything other than pitch blackness - as if there would be anything to see, even in the daylight. They hadn’t made it much past Derby-Shelton when the train had broken down; he’d guess that if they could see more than darkness and their own reflections, they’d mostly be staring out at Naugatuck State Forest.

Which might offer a distraction to make things a bit less awkward, but not by much.

“I’m not exactly in a hurry to get anywhere this time,” he says, trying for humor. “Luckily there isn’t much urgent news to report on Thanksgiving.”

“There isn’t always much urgent news to report on May 1 of any given year.”

“Well, sometimes we just get lucky.”

She turns toward him then. Her hair, which she had taken down from whatever fancy style it had been pinned up in earlier, swings forward, briefly obscuring her face. “Is that how you feel? Lucky?”

“I feel lucky with you every day,” he says truthfully. He can’t tell if she believes him. Either way, she does not smile, although after the day they’ve had, he wouldn’t really expect her to.

It had been an easy decision to ask Sloan to come home with him. Her parents retired to Arizona the previous January, and if it already didn’t make much sense for her to fly across the country for barely a weekend, they had told her months ago that her brothers would be at their in-laws, they had no plans on cooking, and they were booked for mixed doubles with the Drummers on Friday.

Don’s family, by contrast, would all be gathering back at his childhood home, a quick couple of hours on the Metro-North. He and Sloan had been dating for over a year now. It would have made sense to ask her even if she wasn’t facing down a holiday weekend of takeout and economics journals alone in her apartment (regardless of the fact that she had set aside a few of the “best issues” to enjoy).

He knew it was a mistake from the moment they walked in the door.

Despite his mother’s thanks, it was clear that she thought the bottle of wine Sloan had picked out was pretentious, and she eyed the sheath dress Sloan wore, with its gray, black, and white geometric design, as if deciding precisely how excessively formal it was for a small family gathering. Don, having seen Sloan’s closet, could have told her that this was one of the more informal options, at least not counting workout clothes or lingerie, but started in on small talk instead before offering Sloan a tour of the house.

Those few moments of watching her smile at the pictures of him hanging along the hallway - round in a Christmas sweater at age three, a gawky, grinning advertisement for the necessity of orthodontia at twelve, only slightly less gawky and slightly more grinning in his high school graduation photo - and hearing her tease about what embarrassing poster had once been taped in the large, discolored place above his bed...it still wasn’t quite enough to get him through the rest of the day.

Sloan didn’t watch whatever show his mom and sister and sister-in-law were going back and forth about, and she had little interest in entertaining the brigade of Keefer kids roaming around. She furrowed her brow as she sat next to Don in the family room and tried to get him to explain all the minutiae of football even as the others were trying to watch the Eagles. She was perfectly polite, asking questions of everyone and telling them about her family, her work, her interests when asked, but it was obvious from the glances traded around the table that the others noticed the slight hitch to her cadence and the way she didn’t always laugh at the jokes being told, and that it mattered to them.

As they dug into turkey and Mom’s excellent stuffing and terrible sweet potato pie, his dad (who clearly didn’t think the wine pretentious, or at least not enough to be a problem) started talking about how all he saw on the news these days was these protests, and of course it was a shame when things went wrong, but cops were just trying to protect themselves and didn’t need to be lectured by those who didn’t know what it was like on the ground day to day - he had friends who were cops, and they were just trying to do right and get home to their families, and was it any wonder they had to react like they did, considering the damage being done out in the streets? Don, who had tried and eventually learned to bite his tongue when it came to this conversation, placed a hand on Sloan’s knee, but she went ahead anyway, citing statistics and studies and historical precedent, all while the others looked at her as if she was exactly the kind of person by whom they didn’t want to be lectured.

Still, they might have been able to push through, except that Don’s brother cornered him on the way back from the bathroom and asked...well, Don’s blocked out the exact wording, but the implication was that he wondered if the pictures he’d seen of Sloan online did her justice.

After Don had punched Rich, sticking around for Black Friday brunch and leftovers didn’t seem to be in the cards.

“I can be a little bit of an acquired taste,” Sloan says, leaning forward and resting her forearms on her thighs. “I know that might be shocking, considering how charming I am—”

“Exactly the word I’d use.”

She throws him a glare for the dry tone, but he’s glad for it; it makes her look a bit more like herself. “So, I’m used to not always being liked. But they...I was really not liked back there.”

“They’re wrong about you.” The carriage is empty except for them - luckily for those who don’t want to be trapped on a broken down train, the middle of the evening on Thanksgiving doesn’t seem an especially popular time to travel into the city - and they had been able to take seats facing each other. He leans toward her, but does not take her hand. “Hey. They’re wrong about you. You know that, right? Sure, you’re single-minded, a little bit weird, a frequent pain in my ass—”

“I have yet to hear the part about them being wrong.”

“—but you’re also kind and loyal and wildly ethical and the smartest person I know and pretty solidly better than I deserve. And I just happen to be related to a bunch of assholes who can’t recognize that.”

Her knee bumps against his. “I imagine Christmas is going to be a pain when you have to spend time with a bunch of assholes.”

“Christmas was already a pain for that and many other reasons,” he says. “And honestly, maybe I won’t go back for it. Maybe I won’t go back next Thanksgiving either.”

She doesn’t look at him like he’s crazy. Instead, her face folds into concentration, as if she is trying to figure out a puzzle. Slowly she says, “I don’t know that you can just give up on your family because of the one time that they weren’t nice to your girlfriend.”

“They’ve never been nice to my girlfriends because, again, they’re assholes.” He settles against his seatback and makes sure she is looking at him before he says, “I’ll probably end up seeing them again because I’m not quite lucky enough in life to avoid it. But when I have the choice, I want to spend as much time as I can with the family that taught me to be better than them. So maybe next year we’ll rope Mac and Will into eating dry turkey with us - or hey, he can probably swing for some that actually tastes good.”

“You know that Mac will make us say things that we’re thankful for, and she and Will are going to get into an argument about the legacy of Thanksgiving even though they essentially agree with each other.”

“Well, maybe we’ll cook—” Her eyebrow raise is sharp and perfect as always. “Okay, we’ll get takeout together. Because I swear to God, Sloan, sitting around having popcorn shrimp with you sounds like a much better time than anything involving my mother’s pecan pie.”

“I was actually looking forward to the pie,” she says a little longingly, but she moves to sit in the seat beside him and lean her head on his shoulder, not even startling as the PA system crackles to overly loud life.

“Sorry, folks, we’re going to have to go dark here for a sec as we try to get things back online, but we hope to have you on your way shortly.”

“Hey,” Don says in the moment before the lights go out. “You know that I’m thankful for this, don’t you? Just getting to be here with you.”

“No one’s thankful for a train breakdown, Don,” she says, voice sounding as if she’s shaking her head at him. And he can feel the stupid smile coming over his face anyway as the overheads power off, leaving them with only the eerie emergency lighting. Who knows how long they’ll have to sit here like this considering the amount of faith he has in the MTA? He rests his head on top of Sloan’s. He can wait. They’ll get home together eventually.

#The Newsroom #Newsroom fic #Sloan Sabbith #Don Keefer #Don/Sloan #eh #lavellenchanted

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jasonrae117 · 4 years

Text

Night at the Wayne Casino

Part 4

Damian looked the part, he may have stolen a few pointers from the years spent around Jason and Richard, but he was ready to finally get the information he wanted directly from the source. He wore a perfectly tailored Stefano Ricci silk dress shirt in a deep navy, with a few of the top buttons unfastened. He paired it with fitted black pants, a black leather belt with steel hardware, and matching black leather Tom Ford dress shoes. If he was going to attend a party, he was going to make sure everyone knew who he was, if they didn’t know his face, they would know by the sheer cost of his shirt alone.

He was good at commanding a room, it wouldn’t be a problem for him to be the center of the party and get exactly what he wanted. It would almost be too easy, it was a setup for the woman and she would have to play right into his hand.

Damian decided that he would arrive right on time, which was considered early according to Jason. He wanted to scope the place out for details and have a plan in place. He was familiar with all the layouts of the rooms already, it was more to figure out the best vantage points when the place would be filled with bodies. It also gave him a chance to take his time ordering a drink. He often wasn’t a fan of alcohol, especially when he considered himself to be on the job, but he had to play the part. He had to admit that it did ease his nerves a bit.

Something about confronting the woman that plagued every waking thought, and dreams, made something close to excitement bubble within him. He’d finally be able to find out how soft her skin truly was, and if it matched what his brain had envisioned it to be….as part of the act to get her alone so that he could get a confession from Raven.

As the next hour came to pass, he had seen no sign of his target and it was beginning to look like a failed mission for him. He had endured countless women sliding their hands down his arms and some braver ones traveling up his leg. Unfortunately for them, there was only one woman’s hands Damian wanted on him.

No. Damian shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. Perhaps he should have stopped at his second drink, especially since it was bourbon.

The man he stood next to now was droning on about a business idea he wanted to propose to Bruce, but instead of listening, Damian took this opportunity to reflect on his thoughts and feelings for once.

These past few days had proved to him that he was still mentally weak. He let lust seep into his mind and alter what his gut was telling him. When he had seen Raven with Tim, he was furious and regretfully jealous. He had a split second of insanity catching himself wishing that it was himself that had snuck Raven into the security room to taste her skin on his lips. He now came to terms that it wasn’t jealousy but in fact shame in himself, not that he couldn’t get the woman, but rather he let his hormones sway his judgement. And that he wasn’t mad at Tim for being with Raven, but mad at himself that he had almost listened to him and turned his back on his gut. He laughed at himself, this woman was good, he just had to prove it.

Maybe he was just in denial about his feelings?

Damian grunted at his conflicting thoughts and realized that he had gained the attention of...whoever was talking to him. He finished what was left in his glass and addressed the man “Excuse me, my drink seems to be empty and I’d like to get some fresh air now.”

“Oh, sure. We can go outside, I still have to show you our advertising pitch.” The man began to pull out his phone, clearly not catching Damian’s hint.

“Sir, what I mean is-”

“Hold on a sec, it’s right here. You can go grab us some drinks and I’ll meet you outside. I just gotta set up the slideshow.”

Damian cleared his throat. “What I was trying to imply was that I’d rather not discuss business at a party with someone who clearly isn’t important enough to schedule an appointment with my father. I certainly don’t want to be bothered with having the expectation that I’ll actually relay this foolish proposal to him either.”

The man burned red and apologized profusely. He hurried out of the room at almost lightning speed. Damian sighed in relief and scanned the room once more before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Maybe coming to this party was a bad idea, Raven wasn’t here and he had accidentally made eye contact with a woman at the bar and she began to head his way.

Damian rolled his eyes and weaved through the crowd in hopes to lose the woman and escape to the large and lavish balcony.

The cooler night air alleviated some of the irritation from the lack of activity this party had provided him. It helped to let the fresh air carry away his conflicting thoughts as he contemplated his next move. The better part of him wanted to leave and see if there were any files that needed to be looked at or, better yet, see if Raven had actually been planning to hit the casino when he was busy in this stupid suite. However, his gut was telling him to stick it out and that she would show. Parties in Vegas were always in full swing for hours and he hardly spent two at this one, odds were that she’d spend the time getting primped to seduce more information out of weak-willed men.

The more formal time of the party seemed to have passed as the lights in the suite were being lowered and replaced partially by strobe and colored ones in addition to the increased volume of dance music. People were now flocking to the open space in the middle of the suite and swaying closely to one another. Damian despised dancing and more particularly the modern club dancing being displayed in front of him tonight.

Though he was outside, the music could still be heard clearly through the open doors and thus everyone’s conversations got louder chipping away at last bits of his patience. I’m doing this for Raven...for the team and myself. Right now I look unapproachable, this won’t do. Damian took a deep breath with his eyes closed to focus himself and will the headache away that was imminent. He turned back to the party and made his way to the bar to replenish his drink, at this point in time a little less sobriety would be welcome.

…

Damian glanced down at his watch and noted that three hours have passed since he arrived and by his estimate that the party wouldn’t be over for another three or so hours. He had circled the perimeter many times and had yet to see any trace that she was here or was coming at all. For a moment he thought that Jon was pranking him by sending him to a party under the guise that it was a lead on Raven when it was perhaps a way to get him ‘out more’ like he had always said was his personal mission. However, he knew Jon wasn’t foolish enough to waste his time like this and Jon, himself, was the one to tell Raven about the party and get her the invite.

Jon had come to his room while Damian was getting ready and had told him what he left out in their previous conversation. Damian was furious at first, thinking that Raven had gotten into Jon’s head but Jon insisted he did it to give Damian a chance to observe her without interference from Tim. Of course this was after Jon went on about Raven’s beauty and that if Tim and Damian ended up striking out, he would throw his name into the hat for her affection, which earned him a rough punch to the shoulder. As much as Jon’s teasing annoyed him, he had to admit that his plan was brilliant...if only she showed.

He was yet again stuck in a conversation with another rich and beautiful woman. Had he not been here for work, he may have considered sleeping with her to release his tension and frustration. The conversation hadn’t been particularly exciting, but at least she wasn’t overtly throwing herself at him or touching him inappropriately. She had been talking about a new restaurant opening on the other side of the strip where they specialized in vegetarian and vegan options, which actually sounded interesting, but a flash of long pale legs caught his attention.

He could have imagined it, wishing something was there to make this all not seem like a waste of time, but there she was across the room inspecting the suite’s occupant’s book collection. He was ashamed to admit that he could identify her even though she was bent over and all he could see was her full backside and those perfect legs of hers that popped out of the ruched green skirt. She stood up and turned around, a book in one hand and a small glace in the other, her identity officially confirmed and the heat that rushed to his face dissipating. He mentally scolded himself for spending too much time staring at her ass during all of the previous encounters and the security footage he had re-watched a few times, though it had proved to be useful after all. He had to tell himself that to keep himself from feeling like a pervert.

His intention wasn’t to ogle her while he was watching the footage, he wanted to see if she had patterns or accomplices. But he found himself having to rewind it multiple times because he kept getting distracted by the sway of her hips or the way all of her outfits seemed to cling perfectly to her body.

The woman next to him cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her chest. "You should stop staring at that slut over there and focus on me. She's probably some cheap escort, nobody that's worth your time." She placed her hand on his arm and smiled at him. Oh if she only knew.

"And I suppose you're worth my time?" He faced her.

"Of course, I'm hot and rich. Plus the way I get my money is clean and I don't have to be a whore to get it." She laughed and flipped her fake blonde hair over her shoulder. This woman was unbelievable and it was getting on his nerves, he was grateful he was here on duty so he wouldn't have made the mistake of sleeping with her. Who the hell did she think she was talking about some other woman like that, much less Raven.

"Is that all that matters to you? Looks and wealth?" His eyes narrowed and he pulled away from her.

"Yeah, what else does there need to be?"

"Tt, tell me, how do you get your money?"

"From my father. My family is rich and understands that I don't need to waste my time with work."

"Hmm, I see. You're what? Twenty-four? And you're still sponging off your family, what happens when they decide you're too old?"

"Uh..I marry a hot rich guy. That's why I'm talking to you." She was so nonchalant about her answers it was pathetic.

"How unfortunate for me. I think I'll go talk to that woman over there since I'm fairly certain that she's not an escort."

"Whatever, she's sure as hell not as rich as I am! Why waste your time?"

"The thing is, you are not rich, your father is and you're just an over processed leech. There's more to life than just looks and wealth, besides she's far richer in beauty than any surgeon could ever make you out to be. And I could tell that she's significantly more interesting in the twenty seconds I've looked at her than the fifteen minutes I wasted talking to you."

She was silent and looked at him incredulously. Clearly no one has set this woman straight before.

“Now I suggest you find some other man to sell yourself to, maybe they’re foolish enough to entertain you, or at least smart enough to get you to sleep with them before they get too annoyed by your shallow superficiality. “

“Asshole.” She scoffed and spun on her overpriced heels disappearing into the crowd.

He hoped none of this would get back to his father. Though he wasn’t working, he had been in two confrontations already and it could reflect poorly on the resort. He was well within his right to set those two straight and honestly the company was better off without their patronage, but that didn’t mean Bruce wouldn’t frown upon his treatment of guests since he still had an obligation to uphold a certain image of the Wayne name.

Damian turned back to the space in front of the bookshelf where his target had been moments before. However, she was no longer there and he cursed himself for losing sight of her. He scanned the room for what felt like the hundredth time that night and finally spotted her outside against the railing. He took another brief moment to observe the outfit she had chosen tonight, a forest green tube dress ending just below mid-thigh. The dress had a circle cutout on both sides revealing the bottom of her rib cage to the top of her hips, it was dissected by a gold metal band that matched the metal choker around her neck and the cuff on both of her wrists. Her hair was straightened and flowed past her shoulders and even from his distance, it looked like silk. Her beauty never ceased to intrigue him, even without the flattering clothes, she was a walking goddess. That’s why she is so dangerous.

He had just noticed the two men that were on either side of her. One had his hand on her waist while the other had his arm behind her holding on to the rail. Why was it that every man was attracted to her like moths to a flame? Wherever she went, there always seemed to be at least three pairs of eyes on hers, one of them always his. Even now, there were a handful of men ready to swoop in the get shot at trying to woo the ethereal beauty. It pissed him off and he felt just the slightest bit of jealousy.

He couldn’t just interrupt, it would be suspicious, and she didn’t seem to mind the company of the two men. He had to wait, maybe she was plotting something and these two men were informants. Raven seemed to be good at only talking to the people that could give her useful information, although these men didn’t work at the casino and he didn’t recognize them as anyone important. Perhaps she was in a similar position as him and being plagued by unwanted attention. He had to play it cool, bide his time and he would get his chance.

For the next hour, Damian kept within a ten foot radius of her and kept trying to think of ways to intercept her before the next imbecile tried his luck with her. Much like the trail of men she left in her wake, he too was unlucky in his endeavor. That is until he noticed her heading to the bar for another drink. He still carried his almost empty glass and polished off the last sip before hurrying to the bar and getting there just before her.

He signaled the bartender to come to him when he had a moment and patiently held his glass. Sure enough Raven had filled the empty spot beside him and set her glass down. He forced himself to not instinctively look at her as he focused on the lines of expensive alcohol on the wall.

“Damian? I mean Mr. Wayne.” He looked down at her to see surprise written on her face.

“Miss Roth. “ he nodded.

She let out a short laugh. “I guess every employee knows my name here.”

“I guess you’re a popular woman.” He allowed a smirk to rise on his lips.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. Sounds a bit scary to have the head of security know you by name at a casino you haven’t been to before that’s at least fourteen hours from where you live.” She chuckled and played with the cuff on her wrist.

“You haven’t exactly been a normal guest here either.” Her face turned red at his words and to what he had been referring to.

“Uh…I suppose not.” Raven looked away and shifted awkwardly. The bartender approached them and Damian gestured for her to order first. “Bourbon on the rocks please.”

“Make that two.” Damain cut in and the bartender nodded pouring them their drinks. Damian handed him money to cover both of the drinks plus a decent tip.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to.” She took a small sip.

“I didn’t, but I wanted to.”

A soft smile graced her lips and she put her glass back down. “So, this didn’t strike me as an event that would require security.”

“That’s because it doesn’t. I am not on duty”

“Oh, I didn’t think this was your kind of scene.”

“Why is that Miss Roth?” Damian faced her and leaned his side against the bar top.

“Well, being the head of security and all and you’re always so...serious when I’ve run into you. Kind, but serious. But I suppose you kind of have to be that way, intimidating.” She looked up at him and her indigo eyes locked onto his emerald ones.

“Am I intimidating Miss Roth?” Damian leaned into her space just a bit, his heart beating just a bit faster. He watched as her eyes glanced at his mouth before darting back to his eyes as a blush danced across her cheeks.

“Are you trying to intimidate me Mr. Wayne?” She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, closing the distance a bit more.

“Among other things…” His hand reached up and brushed her dark hair off her shoulder. The action had occurred subconsciously but he reveled in the feeling it gave him watching a shiver run through her body.

“And would those other things be in violation of your work?” Raven’s left hand moved from her drink to his forearm that rested on the bar. He glanced down at her delicate fingers dancing along the thin silk of his sleeve.

“I believe I told you that I wasn’t working right now.”

“Mm, so you did. Tell me, what are these ‘other things’?”

Damian leaned into her to whisper directly in her ear. “I’d like to tell you… or show you somewhere in private, where every other man in the room isn’t glaring at me because I’ve been able to keep your attention for longer than five minutes.”

He pulled back still keeping within her space and noticed her breaths coming in more shallow and the blush from earlier still stained her face.

“How would you know that nobody has been able to talk to me for longer than five minutes?”

“It’s a special skill of mine to observe, especially the activity involving a sort of target.” He smirked at her again. She was falling right into his trap and he didn’t even have to lie.

“Where do you suggest we go then? I’m sure you’ve come up with a plan while waiting for your turn.” She took a step into and he could smell her perfume, sending his mind into a haze.

“My suite is just two floors down.”

“Lead the way.”

He took her hand and briefly admired the way it felt in his. He was starting to feel excited and for once, nervous. He questioned himself and his sanity when he invited her to his suite. He never brought anyone in there, but here he was heading to the elevator with one of the most puzzling women he has ever come across. He was aroused by her and also infuriated with her. When they had reached the elevator and it had opened up the pair stepped in and as soon as the doors closed, his hands were on her waist and hers were on his chest. Their breaths were heavy and there was an intensity in their gaze.

He leaned down to kiss her and if the descent had been longer he would have been able to, but before he knew it, the door opened again. “Fuck.” He had lost control. He grabbed the back of her thighs and hoisted her up. She let out a small squeak in shock but wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He pressed his lips to hers and began walking to his room. Her lips matched his with equal intensity as she pulled on his collar and tugged his hair. When he reached his door he didn’t break contact and simply reached into his back pocket that held his key card and inserted it with ease into the handle.

The green light flashed and he ripped the card out and threw the door open and kicked it shut behind him. He moved his mouth down to her neck and kissed her pulse down to the juncture of her shoulder. Her moan encouraged him to squeeze her thighs which made her grind into him. Her skin was softer than he imagined and he couldn’t contain himself any longer. The tightness in his pants begged for her.

Damian laid her down on his bed and withdrew from her, taking in the unforgettable sight in front of him. She was breathing heavily and her neck bared marks from his assault on it moments ago, her lips were parted and red and her lust-filled eyes were trained on him.

“Damian?”

This was not his plan or intention...or maybe it was. For the first time, he didn’t care about this case, he had denied every emotion he felt and dismissed it as some trick she was playing, and maybe she was even playing him at this moment. But just for tonight, all he wanted was to accept those feelings, that passion, and investigate her, all of her.

#night at the wayne casino #casino au #Damian Wayne #raven x damian #damirae #raven #raven roth #more parts to come #its getting hot in here #Teen Titans

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wellhellsbelles · 4 years

Note

hey! i love everything you write and can't wait for the next chapter of ttroywh. i saw you're taking prompts and i was wondering if you could write one i saw in @rickibowen saying that riley and maya go to the bachelor and riley's supposed to fall in love with lucas but falls in love w/ farkle who is the camera man/editor of the show and she always tries to make him laugh by making faces during one on one interviews and so, while lucas and maya fall in love w/ each other

hope you don’t mind me cutting it short! i don’t know much about the bachelor and would’ve liked to expand more but the internet is not good at gleaning info on the process 😅 so here’s my take on as much of that au as i could!

enjoy!

Farkle took the dumb job by chance.

Well, he did apply for it, but he never thought he’d actually get the job. In all honesty, he figured his small degree in video production wouldn’t end up fruitful, that it was only really a backburner type of deal. He still did believe that—he was going to pursue something in science, that he was adamant of. He just needed . . . a break from it (“Even geniuses need to take care of their mental health,” his mother had told him.) So he pursued videography, something that had become a sort of hobby to him, and when the summer arrived and he needed cash, he figured he’d apply for this job just for kicks.

Farkle never believed he’d end himself up on the set of The Bachelor, not in a million years.

It was sort of surreal, the whole atmosphere that followed such an illustrious television show. Farkle never bought into the appeal of the show, especially since it seemed silly to drag all these girls along just for some pretty boy to tell them they weren’t “the one”. It just seemed cruel, but then again, who was he to judge? He was earning money off of taping their dreams getting crushed, after all.

The first day on set was a barrage of sensory overload—so many voices, faces he needed to commit to memory, an itinerary of equipment he’d be handling . . . there was just so much. He was halfway tempted to run when he started becoming overwhelmed, but he remembered himself, breathing in and out until he’d maintained a sense of calm.

Farkle could do it. He would do it. There was no way he was backing out now.

The preparation for the show was massive, but then the first day of filming arrived right under his nose. Profiles he’d studied of both the bachelor and the ladies he would be choosing from were going to quickly turn to reality, no longer just faces on a page. He knew he wouldn’t be making friends or anything of that ilk, but he did want to at least talk to people, especially since he’d be the one on the other side of the camera for most of the shooting.

Farkle was going to be the main guy they all report to when it’s time to film their confessions, maybe secrets that would be aired on television but no one else on set would know until later. No one but him, which he was well aware was a heavy burden to carry. But then again, it was reality television—who said anything anyone reveal was actually real? The contestants weren’t getting paid for anything, so truth was muddied at best.

But somehow, despite all of this mess being, well, a mess, Farkle could still say he was excited at the prospect of taking part of something big. This was his shot at obtaining a glimpse a slice of a life he’d never experienced before, and he couldn’t wait to see how it all turned out.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this dumb mess. This is your fault,” Maya groaned from beside Riley as the other girls with them in the limo talked animatedly.

“My fault? How was I supposed to know they’d pick both of us for this show? Besides, you’re the one who submitted your application while we were drunk! You could’ve backed out at anytime and you know it, Hart,” Riley said accusingly. “Besides, we’ll have fun! You need some in your life.”

“I feel like I’m being pimped out by a bunch of white guys to another white guy. I hate this,” Maya slumped down further in her seat. “And they took my phone, too! How am I supposed to entertain myself?”

“Don’t you draw? Just do that. I know you brought your sketchbook,” Riley suggested. Maya shook her head.

“Nope. Not going to happen. I am not advertising my art for the world to see. One of those dumb cameramen are going to sneak up on me and do it without my permission, I just know it.”

“Suit yourself,” Riley shrugged, turning her attention to the rest of the girls in the car. She knew there was a camera in the car with them and that the producers would prefer it if she engaged in conversation about the bachelor, but she’d rather just lay low. She’d try and play it up for them later after she’d seen him up close and personal.

But Maya did have a point. Why was she doing this again? It really was a decision she made on a whim, but unlike Maya, her decision was made completely sober.

The Bachelor had been one of her favorite guilty pleasure shows that she watched over the years, but she had never once entertained the idea of actually becoming a contestant. Perhaps it was when her long-term boyfriend broke up with her that spurred her interest, maybe she just needed something new and this was it. Whatever the case, she had been picked along with her best friend, and wherever Riley went, Maya followed.

She couldn’t be too mad, anyhow—the bachelor they had picked was incredibly handsome.

His name was Lucas Friar, born and raised in Texas. Everything about him sounded like a dream come true, but she kept a smidgeon of skepticism about him just in case the show had encouraged a little truth bending for the sake of appeal. Still, she couldn’t deny that his extensive list of positive qualities all seemed a little too good to be true.

He sounded like a true, southern gentleman, the kind that would meet you at the door and talk to your parents before escorting you out on a date. A lionhearted and loyal friend, the testimonies in his profile had mentioned. A guy who is just so down to earth you can’t help but fall for him. Loves animals of all kinds and is working hard to become a veterinarian. His experience of being raised on a farm spawned his interest in animal care.

If Riley could swoon, she would. She still might, after meeting him.

For the rest of the ride, Riley tried her best to pitch in with the “bachelor talk” the other girls were participating in. She wasn’t too terrible at it, but getting Maya to participate was another thing entirely. Despite making it onto the show and agreeing to be there (Riley told her she didn’t need to say yes to being a contestant! At this point, she’s almost certain Maya agreed for her own personal agenda that Riley’s not privy to), she refuses to play along.

After what felt like an eternity of a car ride, they made it to the mansion they’d be staying at for the duration of their stint on the show. They asked Riley to be the first one out of the limo, something that floored Riley.

First limo, first out—they had a good feeling about Riley, was what that meant. She’d watched enough of The Bachelor to know that the first person to meet the bachelor was important; it was his first impression, the real start of the show, and it meant the producers were rooting for her.

So, no pressure.

Her meeting with Lucas passed by her in a flash, but she had a good feeling about it. He found her slight awkwardness endearing and by just interacting with him, she felt as though there was a certain energy between them. Of course, she’d never been the best at reading situations, but something told her that it was right for her to be on The Bachelor.

After meeting him, she waited in the main room as the other girls got to have their own interaction with Lucas, trying to not feel nervous as they all piled in together. They chatted amongst each other, but Riley couldn’t help but notice Maya hadn’t joined her yet.

Must be the producers, she admonished in her mind.

She wasn’t allowed to keep wondering, however, as a distraction was sent her way. One of the producers walked in, announcing that they were going to start filming confessionals and called Riley up to be the first.

“We just need you to talk about Lucas a little, maybe your experience so far,” he explained as he ushered her off to another room. “Be yourself, but also realize this is television, yeah?”

“So be myself but not really myself?” Riley blurted. The producer nodded.

“Bingo, you’ve got it. Now go in there and kill it.”

With a slight push, Riley entered the confession room, the door closing shut behind her. There was a guy already in there scrawling down notes onto a clipboard, his focus undeterred until the door closing alerted him to her presence.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he muttered, setting the clipboard down. He turned toward her with a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Riley couldn’t help but feel bad for him. It seemed less like he was trying to be a professional and more like he didn’t want to be there at all.

“Hey, I know this is a weird request, but what’s your name? I’d like to get to know everyone around here, even if I just last a day,” Riley said. The cameraman’s stormy blue eyes lit up in surprise.

“You want to know my name? No one wants to know my name,” he told her. Now it was Riley’s turn to frown.

No one here wanted to know his name? But he was helping make the show. Was the whole production team for The Bachelor really that callous?

“Well, I do. Here, I’ll start—I’m Riley Matthews,” she beamed, sticking her hand out towards him. He hesitated a moment before enveloping her dainty hand with his, the warmth comforting.

“Farkle Minkus. I’ll be your cameraman for a lot of this run, but mostly just the confessional stuff.”

“Glad to have met you, Farkle.”

After breaking the handshake, it still took Farkle a moment to gain his footing and Riley couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so you’ll sit at that seat right there,” he gestured in front of him to the empty chair, “And you’ll have to give me a moment to set the lighting right on you and then make sure sound is good.”

Riley did as she was told, waiting patiently in her seat as he shuffled about the room. She observed him scrambling about, heart warming at the awkward way he appeared to be moving. It reminded her of herself when she was anxious.

After a few minutes, Farkle was ready, giving her a countdown to begin.

“Just start talking about your first impression of Lucas, okay?” he instructed.

“Okay,” Riley nodded. She watched in silence as he started the countdown audibly, switching to counting with his fingers when they reached three. Then two, followed by one.

Showtime, she said to herself.

At the end of the first night, Maya was the first to get a rose. Riley wasn’t surprised one bit—Maya had a sort of charm about her and people couldn’t help but be drawn to her. It always surprised her when that happened, and that night was no exception to the rule. As someone who was also competing, Riley couldn’t help but feel a touch jealous, but more than anything, she was proud of her friend.

Despite Maya receiving the first rose, though, Riley did get quite a bit of time to spend with Lucas. He was shy and reserved, yet cheerful and inviting, and they got along quite well. If Riley was a spectator, she’d bet good money on herself.

But her time outside of filming scenes was spent hanging around Farkle. He didn’t really believe her when she said she wanted to get to know the people working on the show, so she was determined to prove him wrong, especially since she just kept being picked by Lucas. Each day, she’d greet Farkle when she’d spot him by the refreshments table set up for the crew, she’d ask how he was when he was there to film her confessions, and just do her best to cheer him up since he always looked down.

“You know you’re going to get me fired, right?” he asked her one day after they filmed a scene. “You keep making faces at me and I’m trying so hard to not laugh but I swear, Riley.”

“Is it making you laugh?” she said, curious.

“Yes, oh my god! They’re going to have to cut so much of that out not just for your dumb faces, but me interrupting their audio,” he groaned. Riley smiled.

“Good. Then I won’t stop!”

“Relentless, Riley Matthews, that’s what you are. And a pain in my ass.”

Riley liked getting to film The Bachelor, but as the days passed by, she had a feeling it was less because of her wanting to be on the actual show and vying for Lucas’ attention, and more due to the fact that Farkle was there.

And if halfway through the filming process Lucas ended it because he’d picked Maya (and she picked him too, shockingly), Riley couldn’t find it in her to be sad.

She had found Farkle, after all, so really she was the true winner of the game.

#riarkle #riley x farkle #riarkle fanfic #riarkle fanfiction #sorry this had the potential to be longer but i couldn't commit more to it than i did #but its written!

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dalamjisung · 3 years

Text

happy ❀ kim seokjin

genre: angst, fluffy ending

word count: 10k~

pairing: reader x kim seokjin

description: being happy is the goal; but what to do when you don’t really know what that means? Maybe Jin can help...

Living in your neighborhood means quiet nights in, with nothing but the sound of light traffic and whispered conversations. It’s unique, and safe, and exactly what you were looking for three years ago, when you first moved-in; but now… now you miss some of that youthful excitement that usually came with late night hangouts and loud bustling streets. With work, and, well, living, you admit it’s been hard– no time for anything else but sleep and work some more. Being a worker on the rise with one of the most prominent Advertisement companies around surely compensates the constant tiredness, but you no longer seem to have a social life. You stopped running in the mornings, and taking late night walks at the park. You no longer have time to enjoy the street market on the weekends or watch a few episodes of Criminal Minds on Sunday. It’s been so long you did something just for you that you barely remember the rewarding feeling of self-care.

It is on a Monday morning– or maybe it’s actually Tuesday,– that you notice a suspicious line of people on the sidewalk, blocking your car’s door. You weave through them to get in and it hits you as you close the door, the waft of gingerbread and sugar smell coming from the newly open store where all the people seem to be going into. You roll your eyes in annoyance, huffing irritably as you start you car and hurry to work, where you have an early meeting with potential clients and this is your chance to show your boss you deserve the promotion more than anyone. You work long hours– possibly all hours, and yet you are still to be recognized for all you put into the company.

“Y/N!” Seojun shouts as soon as he sees you walking to the elevator. “Hey!” Laughing, you hold the doors open for him as he runs to catch it. The pile of paperwork in his hands almost covers his line of vision and you actually feel bad for your friend– the times that you had to run with thousands of files, and contracts, and scripts had been probably the worst times of your life. You never felt as powerless and unimportant as you did back then, when people used to ignore your name for the sake of getting their menial tasks done.

“Hey,” You smile, grabbing some files from him as the doors close. “How are you?”

“Stressed out,” He sighs, frowning. “Too much to do, very little time.”

The doors open just in time for you to help Seojun to his desk and then run to the meeting room. This is it; you are finally going to be able to pitch your idea you’ve been working on for almost a year. You are sure this project will take the agency to a whole other level, putting the newest talents under a spotlight for future investors, but when you tried to tell anyone about this before your promotion, they would just ignore you and wave you away so that you could do another daily, stupid chore. Maybe now, that you are finally growing in the company, you can finally bring the change that these young actors and entertainers need to really succeed in their career.

Everyone is there when you arrive and, smiling your best smile, you sit down next to the Head of Marketing. The director starts the meeting and people start presenting– profits, pitches, scouting,– and it takes time, but you patiently wait; you control yourself and wait for you turn… that never comes.

“Alright everyone!” The Director smiles and starts getting up. “That’s it for today. Great work, people!”

No one even smiles at you as they all leave, one by one, and it’s only when the room is fully empty, with the exception of you and your superior, that you speak up.

“Excuse me, sir,” You smile politely, frowning in confusion. “What just happened?”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

“The project I’ve been working on for months, Sir,” You say, slowly trying to gather yourself. “I was supposed to present it today… you told me you’d talk to the Director.”

“Oh, that,” He chuckles and sits down again, facing you with arms crossed. You sigh, closing your eyes for just a second; it’s always been hard working under Mr. Nam– he’s always been known to treat his hoobaes unfairly, ignoring and mistreating them. “Don’t worry, I already told the Director about the idea. He already told us to go ahead with it and start getting a team ready.”

Well, that’s a surprise. You smile, trying to disguise your excitement.

“That’s amazing, Sir!” You gush. “When should I start getting things ready?”

“Ah, you see…” Mr. Nam sighs and gets up, getting a bit too close for comfort. His head levels down to yours and you whimper, a but scared with how this situation is quickly progressing. “You are not going to be a part of it. The Director put me in charge.”

“W-what?” Puffing out your chest, you try to put up a brave front, not ready to give up yet. “That’s not fair! I’ve been working on that for almost a year!”

“Yeah, but let’s be honest here, you’d never be able to deliver the result that is expected of this company, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,” He murmurs, voice harsh and cold. “This project will take us to a whole new level, and you are barely a player here. Learn your place.”

“No, you can’t ju-“

“I can and I will,” He growls pointing a finger in your face. “We need this project, and we need someone who can properly lead it. Admit it, Y/N, you’re just a naive, scared little girl. I can’t have that ruining what is about to be our main source of profit for the next semester.”

“I’m just a… naive, scared little girl?” You whisper, frowning. “Why would you think you can do a better job with this project than I would? It’s my idea after all.”

“I have the experience,” He walks forward, forcing you against the wall. “I have the balls. What do you have? No one here knows you, Y/N. Now stop with this nonsense and go back to work.”

He smiles as he backs away eyeing you up and down.

“Marketing is all about criticism,” Mr. Nam says before leaving. “Better get used to it.”

Your knees give out just as Seojun walks in to prep the room for the next meeting.

“Y/N?” He runs to you, eyes wild and nervous. “Are you okay?”

You can barely catch enough breath to speak, lungs tightening and heart speeding just enough to make you feel dizzy.

“I’m perfect,” You respond robotically, looking up at your friend with a forced smile. Getting up, you smooth your clothes. “I have to run, but I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“What?” Seojun frowns. “I guess…”

Looking back, you can’t help and kindly look at the man that’s always worked hard and diligently.

“Oh, and Seojun?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let these people undermine you,” You chuckle sadly. “You are an incredible person. And you are worth more than these assholes.”

————————————

In between grabbing your purse and running out of the building, you barely remember getting home. Or more precisely, your building’s door. Something within you didn’t allow you to walk in just yet, and knowing yourself, it wouldn’t allow you to do so until your dilemma was resolved.

Quit and possibly find a worse job but be overall happier and have to erase all those years of work and start all over again,

Stay, put up with it, and maybe get somewhere, someday.

“For fuck’s sake,” You mumble, turning around and starting to walk. It takes a couple of minutes but it hits you even stronger than before– the smell of butter and sugar. Although there is no more mile-long line, you take a peek inside; barely lit, empty, and… well, messy.

But the smell. Something about the smell of warm butter and sugar guides you in, first knocking on the glass, and then smiling kindly at the young man running back and forth, with barely no time to properly look at you, choosing to scream from the kitchen a ‘we’re closed!’

“Oh, it’s okay,” Your eyes follow his tall form as he moves around. “Sorry to bother yo– are you the only one working here?!”

That makes him stop. And look.

His dark eyes meet yours and goddammit you haven’t seen a man this attractive in a long time. His broad shoulder slump forward and he smiles tightly, nodding.

“Yeah,” He sighs, dropping the cleaning supplies. “I barely had time to organize a team before opening, so it’s just me for now…”

“Ah, I see,” You mumble, blushing at your shoes. “Sorry to intrude, anyw–“

“Wait,” He squints at you before smiling a bit wider. “Are you looking for a job? Is that why you’re asking?”

You blink at him. One time. Two times. Three, four–

“Yeah.”

“Really?!” He is clearly excited, dropping all cleaning supplies on a table and removing his apron to show a grey hoodie and blue jeans, and now you think he is much younger than he looked before. “That would be amazing, I’m not gonna lie, you would be saving me so much time!”

“Uh, what if I don’t have any experience working in a bakery?” You look at him, a bit curious about this… process.

“It doesn’t really matter,” He shrugs. “Do you wanna sit? I can make us some tea and get some cookies out while we talk.”

“Oh, sure,” With your mind still reeling from the previous happenings of the day, you would love some comforting food right now. And nothing else, Y/N. You don’t even know if you’ll quit, don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Okay,” He says and he puts down two mugs and a plate of warm cookies. “Just to make you feel more at ease, you’d never be in a position in which you’d need to make food. That is all me, and I don’t really intend of hiring kitchen staff. I just need someone to be the at the frontline– taking orders, waitressing, keeping track of storage and so on…”

“Well–“

“I understand if you don’t want to,” His head falls on his hands. “The pay is bare minimum, the work is exhausting and overwhelming, and honestly I never expected the bakery to do this well during opening weeks, but here we are, two days in, and I already think I can’t do this.”

Taking a second to allow him to catch his breath, you just stare with wide eyes. Are you willing? Are you really willing to go back to all of those insignificant tasks; fetching things for others, serving others, everything for others? But wouldn’t it be the same if you quit your job? Wouldn’t you have to start over anyways?

Start over… that sounds just what I need.

“Well, I was just going to ask for your name,” You gulp, trying to calm him down. “Boss.”

Kim Seokjin. Jin for short, or else he’ll think you’re angry at him. A peculiar man, you’d say, but it’s too late now– this man is your boss. As you lay down exhaustion washes over you, and you almost forget to set an alarm for five in the fucking morning. You can’t believe you did this but you are too tired to actually worry about the consequences of your impulsiveness.

You have somewhere to be tomorrow morning and you’ll be damned if you don’t give it your all.

————————————

“Good morning,” You smile as Jin opens the door for you, flour in his cheek and messy hair all over the place. “How long have you been here fore?”

“Spent the night here,” He yawns. “Needed to get the dough ready for today.”

“Uh, couldn’t you have done that like… now?” You shiver a bit from the cold but as soon as you step inside the bakery it’s almost as if nothing could bother you ever again. The warmth coming from the kitchen and the smell that overpowers everything else embraces you like it will never let you go. You feel safe and relaxed and maybe, just maybe, you’ll like it over here.

“I could,” He shrugs. “But then I wouldn’t have time to enjoy it. And the best part of this job is that I enjoy it, right?”

To say you are impressed is an understatement– the concept of enjoying your job is as foreign to you are the concept of liking your boss. All your life, you’ve strived for perfection, competence– working from the bottom up, making sure to give your all and a bit more, even to those small tasks you hate so much; and never have you heard a ‘thank you, Y/N,’ or a ‘great job!’ Blow after blow made you more apathetic, caring less about the quality, and more about the quantity. Observing your superiors taught you that the more you produced, the better, and you followed that by heart… until you came up with the project that was so swiftly stolen away from you. You had finally found something you are passionate about again! But, once again, it blew up on your face.

Naive, scared little girl. No one here knows you.

“I just want to be noticed,” You mumble to yourself, low enough that Jin makes out a noise, but doesn’t process the words.

He looks at you expectantly, and you smile, ignoring the situation. As he runs to the kitchen to look over his current batch of cookies, Jin multitasks and uses the time to show you around the place. There isn’t much, but even single corner of it is perfect. The kitchen– where you’ll never be unless supervised by him,– is simple and clean; the stock room is next to the back door, and you’ll need to check it every end of your shift; the front area, however, if your main stage– you have to be behind the counter at all times. The five tables pressed against the pink wall get full quite fast in the morning, and if the customers need anything, you need to be ready to serve.

“Sounds good?” Jin asks nervously, eyes looking straight into yours in case of any sing of regret.

“Sounds… just like my old job,” You smile tightly, shoulders sagging in defeat. I guess this is a beginning, although not quite a new one…

“You never told me what you did before,” Jin frowns. “Where did you use to work?”

You open your mind to tell him– you really do,– but suddenly it just doesn’t matter anymore. It never mattered to begin with, to be honest, and you don’t want to carry around that image of you anymore. No more office, no more thinking the bigger picture, no more a naive, scared, little girl. This is not you. It never was. And for some reason, you don’t want Jin, a man who gave you a chance on kindness alone, to see you like that.

“Just a very small place,” You lie. “Nothing important, really.”

“Well, I mean, you are working in a bakery, now,” He chuckles, completely forgetting his previous question. “It really must’ve been a crappy job.”

“The worst,” You nod, and putting on your apron, you get ready for the day.

It starts with a couple of customers; just a couple and their kids, and two high school girls on their way to class. Those are easy and simple and the smiles and ‘thank you’s catch you off guard, but you smile back and wish them a good day.

Then it gets a bit busier– large groups, old people, hipster teenagers,– and just like Jin warned you, the table get filled quickly, and whenever you could, you’d watch the people sitting down with their computers, doing work for school, or maybe applying for jobs. You look at two people sitting together, clearly getting to know each other, and you wonder if this is a first date or if they just met each other because of the lack of chairs in the place. You like this; a peaceful sensation running through you as you watch people smile because of their hot drinks, or humming in delight because of their pastries.

“Hi, excuse me?” Your eyes focus on the client in front of you, and you smile automatically. “Are you new?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you new here?” She laughs. “I’ve been coming here since day one…”

“Ah,” A bit embarrassed, you look down to the counter. “Yeah. Jin needed some help, and I needed a job, so…”

“Ah, I see,” She clicks her tongue and squints her eyes, and suddenly you are not that comfortable anymore. “Is he here? Jin?”

“Uh, yeah, he’s… he’s in the back, so…” You are not sure how to proceed.

“Call him for me.”

“Excuse me?” You mumble.

“I need to talk to him, so please, call him for me.”

Nodding, you slowly walk to the kitchen, where you see your boss humming happily to a song. You make sure to memorize this scene before delivering what you are sure is bad news.

“Uhm, excuse me, Jin,” You call softly, and he turns around in a second, eyes wide in surprise. “There is someone here for you.”

“What?” He frowns. “Who–“

“Very beautiful woman,” You sigh, tiredly rubbing your temples once you see the line growing on the other side of the counter. “I need to go back to the cashier, but she… demands to see you.”

“Ah, I know who it is,” His smile falters. “Be there in a sec.”

You go back to your rightful place behind the counter and you start the routine once again; order, payment, deliver. Order, payment, deliver. Order, payment–

“Hey again!”

You look up and surely, it is one of the elderly women you served this morning.

“Oh, hello again,” You chuckle, trying to remember he previous order. “Another latte?”

“Ah, you know it, dear,” She laughs, fishing her purse for change. “How have you been?”

“Busy,” You laugh. “It’s been a hell of a first day.”

“Oh, it’s your first day?” The woman asks. “I could barely tell! You are doing great, sweetie!”

“Thank you so much, ma’am,” You smile, giving her the drink. “It means a lot.”

“Oh, call me Minji, please,” She waves her hand in the air. “It’s nice to see that the people here are as amazing as the food. I’ll see you tomorrow, darling!”

Before you can answer, you hear a loud yelp coming from the back.

“Fuck you, Seokjin!”

“Sana!” Jin shouts, but it’s too late– she’s already out the door. “Damnit…”

“Hey, are you alright?” You whisper, trying understand what the fuck just happened.

“You should go back to the front,” His voice comes out cold and detached, and you shudder. “It’s full.”

“Jin–“

“It’s fine, Y/N,” He says. “Just go to the front, please.”

The rest of the day goes by in a second. You see people again, same ones you’ve seen hours before, and they recognize you. They call your name as if you’ve been friends for a long time, and they introduce themselves. Jinyoung, Seojun, Mina, Chan. You see them laugh, and chat, and joke around. You give them more coffee and food and they thank you, for doing nothing but your job.

It’s when Jin decides to take a break that you finally recognize the feeling blooming in your chest.

“Why are you smiling like that?” He asks, chuckling in confusion.

“I’m just happy.”

————————————

For weeks this goes on. You get a few messages and emails from people in your old office but you don’t even bother check them– you are happy. Waking up early is not a chore, and although it is still a bit hard leaving the bed with the morning dew nipping your skin, everything is okay once you get to the bakery. Apparently, you’ve been doing such a great job that Jin gave you the keys to the place, letting you open up the shop after you nagging him so much about his lack of sleep.

The first thing you do is cleaning. The place opens at 8AM sharp, meaning you have two hours to get everything done, so you start with the most important task. After everything is properly cleaned, you set Seokjin’s space in the kitchen. Because you’ve observed him working so much (and admired his beauty, you admit,) you’ve also learned where he likes his utensils placed, and how he likes to function when it’s just him working with so many orders and batches of food coming in and out of the kitchen. And finally, you make sure to organize the front space, putting in every table enough sugar and napkins to last the morning shift, at least.

“Good morning,” Jin mumbles, walking in without even throwing you a glance. His usual smile is gone and he goes straight to the kitchen. “What the– Y/N?”

You look up to see your boss frowning, leaning on the kitchen door.

“Did you mess with the stuff in the kitchen?”

At this point, you thought he knew– how else would his things be ready for him in the morning? However, you are not that confident this morning.

“Uh, yeah…?”

“Why?” His voice could cut through glass.

“Because I wanted to help?” Your voice dies down as the phrase reaches its end, suddenly feeling embarrassed and… inadequate. And you hate it; you haven’t felt like this since your days at the company.

“I told you to stay in the front,” He says in all seriousness, brows furrowed and angry. “I told you I don’t need anyone in the kitchen! Don’t mess with my things again, everything is out of place now!”

“But–“

“No!” He shouts, and it all comes back. Mr. Nam and his verbal attacks, the constant humiliation, all the holding in and breaking down, all the wasted energy, the wasted ideas, the wasted time. “Stay where you are supposed to.”

“Sure thing,” You seethe, understanding that there will always be frustrations in the workplace, but this… this feels oddly misplaced. “Just a question… is it any different than it usually is?”

“Of course,” He scoffs. “Or else I wouldn’t be complaining.”

“I see,” You nod. “Okay. Understood, boss. Never going in the kitchen again.”

You see the moment he falters, looking quizzically at you, as if he knows he missed something, but didn’t quite know what. Just like that, the day goes by in an agonizingly slow pace; clients coming in and out with not breaks, and you start to feel yourself getting more and more tired, having to handle the front of the bakery by yourself. For days you’ve been wondering how to bring this up, but you need help; at least one other person handling the cashier as you handle the orders and the tables.

Too late, you think, mindlessly steaming milk. He won’t listen to a word I say, now.

“Holy fucking shit!” You shout, feeling the boiling milk overflow right onto your hand. “Oh my god, mother–“

“Y/N!” Jin shouts from the kitchen door. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry, Jin,” You gasp. “I just–“

“I don’t care! Get back to work without cussing in front of the customers.” And he is gone.

“Don’t worry, dear,” You turn around to see Minji at the counter. “He’s probably just stressed out.”

“I don’t see how’s that’s my fault,” You frown, trying to ignore the pain in your hand. “He’s been like that since yesterday…”

“Do you know why?”

“I can guess,” You mumble, thinking back to the woman that asked for him… Sana, you think is what he called her.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Minji suggests while fishing for change. “You two are a team. He can’t function without you, and vice-versa.”

A team… I’ve never been part of a team, you think, waving her goodbye. Does he really need me?

Your confirmation is the sound of, what you assume to be, many baking trays falling to the ground, and a loud, loud “god-fucking-damnit” echoing in the suddenly very quiet bakery.

So you wait. You wait for the last costumer to leave to exhale, shoulders moving with each deep breath as you walk to the kitchen, stoping at the door. You see Jin, head low and defeated as he half-heartedly cleaned some utensils.

“Can we talk?”

You realize you sound slightly obnoxious, but you don’t care. This is something that has to be done.

“What’s up?” He sighs, hands massaging the side of his head. He looks exhausted and irritated, and for a second you pause– has he slept? Is he okay? He looks way more tired than before…

On one of the tables has tea and cookies and for a second it looks like the night you were hired, when you were feeling the lowest you’ve ever felt. And now here you are; chin high, heart beating bit too fast, and sweat dripping down your back. So stressed. You are stressed– and yet, happy.

“Seriously, Y/N, what’s up?” He sits down, taking a bite of a cookie. “I am not having a good day as it is and–“

“What is up with you?” You speak so fast that all Jin does is stare at you and blink. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy, but I do worry about you. And the bakery. You’re being an asshole and it’s bothering the clients… and me. Mainly me. But the clients, too.”

“Did you just call me an asshole?” He mumbles, processing your words. “Y/N–“

“No, seriously, what is up with you?” You repeat. “Ever since that woman, Sana, came by, you–“

“That’s none of your business,” Jin spits out, getting up and marching to the kitchen. “Now get ready to close up.”

“That!” You shout, pointing at him. “You’re being that! Sana comes by, and suddenly I am your punching bag! Jin, we’re a team, for crying out loud! I am here for you– I am the one that spends the whole day with you, that eats with you, that organizes the fucking kitchen for you! And all you do I shout at me!”

“I’m your boss!” He shouts, and then he realizes he’s just proving your point. Clearing his throat, he continues. “What do you want from me?”

“I want my partner!” You scream, holding tears back. I’m your boss. Not partner; boss. “Whenever you needed me to stay late to clean, and help with the bills, and the accounting– I was here! Whenever you got cooped up in the kitchen ‘trying something new’ or ‘getting ready for tomorrow,’ I was by myself managing this whole place; clients, orders, mails, flowers, decorations–“

“She was there for me, too!” Jin screams, turning to face you and is he crying?! “Sana was there for me too…”

“What does that–“

“She was there and then she wasn’t,” He frowns, angrily marching closer to you. “Sana left me when things got tough. I was getting ready to open the bakery, money wasn’t coming in, no investors, no loans, and then, no Sana. So I’m sorry if I’m a bit skeptical about–“

Jin stops himself before he can finish, but it’s in his eyes.

“Me?” You whisper, hurt and disappointed. “Skeptical about me?”

“What do you want from me?” He begs, coming closer and closer, and you can’t help but back away.

“I was happy,” You whisper, hand covering your mouth in a failed attempt to hold everything in. Hold it in, hold it in, Y/N. For the last time, hold it in. “I was finally happy, Jin. I quit my job for this– for a chance to maybe, just maybe, make a difference. But I guess I never will.”

You take off your apron, and carefully leave it on the table, next to the now-cold-tea.

“At least before I got paid better…” You mumble as you walk to the door, and you honestly don’t think he’ll hear you; but Jin does, and before anything else hits, he’s already on attack mode.

“Then go back,” His hand slams down on the table and you freeze. “Go back to whatever job you were before and never told me about. That’s funny, Y/N– you want me to tell you everything, and yet you won’t tell even tell me what you used to do!”

“I used to work at JYPE,” You say, voice suddenly calm. You are so tired that you don’t even see the point of this anymore. “I was part of the Marketing team, and I used to make nine times more then what I make here. I used to think I was doing something important, Jin. But that was stupid.”

“What?” He gasps. “Why are you here?”

“Because after I quit JYPE, I though I’d never be the kind of person who’d let other walk all over her again,” Your voice is wavy and soft and small, and you just want to leave. Your eyes are fixed on his hands, balled into fists, and you are shaking. “I thought I’d never be screamed at or pointed at or scared again. So I stayed.”

“And now?” He asks, sitting down in defeat. “Why are you still here?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug. “I guess I should go. See you tomorrow.”

“You’re coming back?” There is hope in Jin’s voice and selfishly enough, it give you a bit of hope too.

“I still need a job,” You sniff, looking for your jacket.

“You can get a job anywhere,” He points out, but you choose to ignore it and walk out the door.

You were wrong, Minji, you think, sobbing your way home. I’m alone again.

————————————

“Good morning,” Jin greets you at the bakery door with two coffee cups in hand. Squinting, you manage to catch the Starbucks sign on the edge of the cup.

“That’s not–“

“Nope,” He pops his lips.

“What are you doing out here, Jin?” You sigh, shivering a bit. “It’s freezing.” “I wanted to get here before you,” He smiles a closed smile, trying to hide his uncomfortableness. “But I forgot I gave you my key before making a copy so you could get here to prep the place…”

“Ah, yes,” You fish the keys off, opening the place up for him. “Go in…”

Without even realizing your start your routine, completely ignoring your boss’s curious stare from where he is sitting on the counter. Apron is on, and you are ready; cleaning the place is the quickest chore, you mop the floor, and clean the tables, and make sure that Jin’s butt is not forever engraved in the counter where many people eat from.

“Jin, go sit on the tables,” You mumble, putting the chairs down and around the small sitting area.

And just as he gets up, coffees now lukewarm in his hands, you move on to the last and most important task– the kitchen. Still irritated from the last night, you march into the ‘forbidden area’ and do your best to silently move the utensils around without him noticing. Like it or not, Jin was still your boss, and angry or not, you still worried about him, so making sure that everything he needs is in order and in place for him to go through the day smoothly.

“What are you doing?” He asks, and you almost drop a mixing bowl on your feet.

“Oh, sorry,” Shaking your head as if to get out of a daze, you mumble to yourself something about never going back there again. “Force of habit…”

“Wait,” He runs into the kitchen, and then back to you, stoping your fidgeting hands from checking the cashier for the third time. On the outside you might’ve seem distracted and a bit too calm, but Jin had spent enough time with you to know when you are a complete mess of emotions. “You do this every morning?”

“Uh, yeah…” You clear your throat, trying to avoid the inevitable confrontation that is about to happen. “I know you asked me to stop, and-and I will! I promise!”

“No, you don’t have to, it’s… it’s perfect,” He breathes out. “Since when do you do this? And why?”

“Since you gave me the keys,” You mumble, nervously bitting your lips. “You weren’t getting any sleep and the kitchen was always a mess after you left and I thought that maybe leaving everything ready for the next morning would help… you know, be more efficient and stuff.”

“But–“

“I’ll stop!” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I don’t want to fight, Jin. I’m still exhausted from yesterday and I just really want to get to work. Please.”

“No fighting,” He promises. “And I’m sorry. I was an idiot. Probably still am. I didn’t mean to shout at you or make you cry, I just–“

“I get it, Jin,” You walk to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Really. Let’s just forget it and go back to work, yeah? We have to open soon.”

“No, Y/N, wait,” Jin grabs your wrists and pulls you closer, holding you in a tight hug. “Let’s not open today.”

“What?!” You pull away and look at him with wide eyes.

“You were right!” He smiles, eyes crinkling in that way that lets you know that a particular fine batch of scones is coming out or that a new recipe is about to be added to the menu. So cute… “We’re a team! I can’t work without you, Y/N, or else I’d go insane. And no one could ever take care of the store the way you do– or make the clients happy, or– or take care of me! So I trust you; when you say you want to stay in the bakery, when you say we are a team, when you say you won’t leave… I trust you, I promise.”

“What is happening?” You whisper to yourself as Jin runs around gabbing his jacket and bag.

“We’re going to have a bonding day!” He announces, pushing you out and into the street. “Let’s go! I have an idea.”

Turns out Jin’s idea was having ramyun by the river, sitting on a cold bench, asking you questions about your life.

“I’m assuming you majored in Marketing?” He asks, chuckling to himself. “I still can’t believe you worked at JYPE… did you meet anyone famous? Oh! Did you meet GOT7?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, you’re wrong, actually,” You smile to yourself. “I majored in Literature. Marketing is just where I ended up. And yes, I’ve met GOT7, and no, I don’t have their phone numbers, before you ask.”

He mumbles something about wanting to become best friends with Jackson and you take the time to look around; the sun was high in the sky, contrasting with the cold weather, illuminating everything around… particularly Jin. The sun hit on half of his face, and the last thing you remember is him talking about how BamBam is such a good rapper– the rest is lost in the air once you start noticing his sharp features. His hair covering his eyes, and his jawline, and just how beautiful his smile is. Objectively speaking, you know how handsome your boss is, and you know he knows it too, with his smirks and winks and air-kisses whenever he comes out of hiding in the kitchen and greets the customers properly. But this was the first time you actively noticed it… and enjoyed it.

“Y/N?” Jin calls, waving his hand in front of your face. “Y/N, are you listening to me?”

“Jin, what are we doing?” You sigh, smiling a bit. “What’s happening right now?”

“We’re bonding,” He answers softly. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

“I–“ You stop yourself, because, honestly, you have no idea what you want. “I– Yeah, I wanted to bond and-and get to know you better, I guess, but so far you told me nothing.”

“What do you mean?” Jin frowns and something in you stirs, making you ball your hands in fists to stop yourself from soothing his forehead. What is happening to me? “I told you a bunch of stuff. My favorite color, my college days, my childhood… I told you all about that.”

“Jin…” You sigh, looking right into his eyes, and disappointment is all you see in him; disappointment at himself for ever letting you down, to begin with. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I’m trying,” He pouts, eyes looking down at his hands in shame. “I’m doing my best, but I don’t like talking about that stuff… specially now that she’s back.”

“What does that mean?” You ask, hands covering his. Your thumb goes up and down and up and down on his palms and you feel all of the warmth and love that comes out of those hands. “You know what? I have an idea. Come with me.”

It takes you a while to convince him to let you drive, but with a little emotional speech he throws the keys at you and runs to passenger seat. The ride is quiet and you ask him to close his eyes once you start getting close.

“We’re almost there,” You tell him, a small smile on your face. “I’m going to open the window, just letting you know.”

Turning onto the street, you shimmy with glee upon seeing the bakery. Jin’s hair is flowing with the wind and you want to crack a joke about how he look like a model, but the very faint smell of sugar and cookies fill up the car, and you can see Jin sniffing the familiar smell. Although the bakery had been closed all day, the familiarity of the area is enough to bring back the smell that for weeks now has offered you comfort and happiness, and you sure that even with his eyes closed, Jin could feel the same.

“Are we–“

“Yeah.”

“Why?” He slowly opens his eyes, looking at you with such intensity that you can’t help but blush.

“Because this is your safe space,” You mumble, parking and turning off the car. “You are yourself in there– in the kitchen, baking, thinking, singing. It’s the happiest I’ve seen you. Ever. And me. It’s the happiest I’ve been, Jin. So if there is anywhere that I think we should have this talk, is here.”

“Y/N… wow, I just,” He chokes on his words as he looks around, following you inside. “Thank you.”

You smile, going straight to the counter and reaching behind the cashier. “And I also keep this stashed in case of emergencies.”

“You’ve been here for just three months!” Jin screeches when he sees the bottle of tequila. “What emergency could happen in just three months?!”

“This one,” You point at him, pulling two latte cups from the shelf. You pour two shots, one for you and one for him, and signal for him to throw it back. Once your done, you do it again. “Okay, I’m ready now.”

“Really?” He coughs, making a disgusted face. “Two shots in and only now you’re ready?”

“… yeah,” you nod, eyes wide. He smiles, a sort of smile that makes you smile, too, and he nods.

“Okay,” He downs his third shot and you follow. “Okay. Now I’m ready too. So… Sana? This is what you want to know about?”

“Yes,” You nod a bit too fast and you can already start feeling your head spin a tiny bit.

He chuckles, more to himself the anything.

“We met when we were teenagers,” Jin starts, smiling with the fond memory. “Our parents were really good friends and I guess it just just made sense when we started dating. They were happy and I think that’s what made us think we were happy, too. We dated through college, on and off, and a year ago, when I started planning for the bakery, Sana starting planning for something else… she wanted to get married.”

“Uh, was she… pregnant?” You mumble, trying to wrap your head around it.

“No,” He frowns. “Thank god, no. We wouldn’t work. We didn’t work, actually. When I told her that she needed to wait a bit, a year or so, she said that she had already waited for too long. She told me that she had wasted her best years on me, hoping that one day I’d ask for her to marry me, and we would start a family and grow old together and… and I realized that that’s not what I wanted. Sure I loved her and I wanted a future with her, but I also wanted to have a future. The family, the apartment by the river, the kids; it would all cost me of my one dream– this bakery. And I wasn’t ready to give that up.”

You nod in understanding; shoving a dream aside for someone else is something that you got quite used to back in your old company, and it hurt to see that same kind of sadness in the eyes of this man that you’ve only seen working with love.

“But you didn’t,” You pour him another shot that he takes instantly. “You persevered, Kim Seokjin. That’s more than I can say for myself.”

He nods. “Yeah, but at what cost?” His voice is dry and small. For the first time ever since you met him, the big and tall man seemed small like a child. You just wanted to embrace him, and embrace him you did. The inhibition that comes with the alcohol is all you needed to push your body off of your chair and hug Jin, hands slowly patting his back in support. “I lost Sana and it took me months to pull myself together and get the loans for the bakery. I remember waiting to hear from the bank and thinking that maybe I shouldn’t be doing this; maybe I was wrong in putting everything aside from this; that maybe Sana was right, you know? This would never work. “

“Jin–“

“But it did!” He chuckles, voice wavering. When you feel the tears soaking through your shirt, and just hold him tighter. “It worked and why do I still feel so fucking alone?”

His shoulders shake with the intensity of his sobs and you hold yourself back from crying, too.

“You’re not alone, Jin,” You whisper into his hair, cradling his head with careful hands. “You’re never alone. Literally. I’m always here, and the costumers love you so much–“

“Sure, I’m not alone when I’m in the bakery,” He pulls aways a little bit so that he can look at you, hands on your waist as he makes guides you to sit down on the corner of the table. “But when I go home? To an empty apartment? I’m by myself, Y/N. And I hate it.”

“Is that why you refused to go home for the first weeks of me working here?” He nods at your question and you wonder just how many nights he spent in these same tables, crying, sleeping, thinking. “Jin…”

“I’m better, though,” Jin’s eyes stare right into yours and his hands soften on your waits, moving a bit down to rest on top of your thighs. You eyes flutter with the shivers that run all though your body, but you keep focused on the man before you, scooting his chair a bit closer so that he can position himself in between your open legs. “Ever since you got here, Y/N, I’ve been better.”

Jin gets up, taking a step closer to you; and another, and another, and then his nose nuzzles yours, and his hands move back to your waist, hanging dangerously lower than before. His breath fans your mouth and you gasp with the intense need that takes over your body as you pull him closer by his hoodie, mouth hungrily moving against his. There is not an inch of your bodies that don’t touch and you think that the alcohol has something to do with this impulsive decision. A part of you tells you to pull away– this is your boss, after all; but the other part of you, the stronger and crazier part of you, tells you to pull his hoodie off of him and let him remove your sweater.

“Y/N,” Jin growls in your ear just as you pull his hair. “Jesus christ, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” You mumble, moving from his neck back to his mouth. “I need you.”

You are the first one to utter those words– the momentary truth, you think about it, and your heart hurt a little bit. Enjoy this now, you tell yourself, allowing Jin to carry you from the table to the ground behind the counter, the only place safe from the huge windows out front. Because tomorrow it will be gone. His hands move quickly on your pants, just as you fight against his; and before you know it, you are both naked on the floor.

“Last chance,” He mumbles to your mouth. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” You say, regret already settling in; but just like everything else, you push it aside.

When you wake up lying on the cold and uncomfortable floor by yourself, you know that what is done and is done, and that as much as you tried to stay with him, you’re the one that woke up alone.

————————————

It ends up that sleeping in the cold bakery on the cold floor is not the best idea out there and you stay in your apartment, sick and sleepy, for the next three days. You stay disconnected from everything electronic– computers, phones, television– only using the house phone to call the bakery and tell Jin you’d not be able to make it; again. You admit that hearing his voice takes you back to that intense night, and even sick, you feel a sliver of excitement growing on you, but you have only a few minutes to enjoy it, before going into another coughing fit or sneezing your brains out.

The phone is what wakes you up in the morning, and you mindlessly feel around your bedside table until you find it, buried under used tissues and a half-read book.

“Hello?” You pick it up, groggily trying to pick-up your scattered mind.

“Y/N?”

Your heart stop.

“Seojun?”

“Oh thank god you picked up,” He sighs on the other end. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for the past four days! I though you were ignoring me!”

“N-No, never, I-I just…” You pull away to cough. “I’m feeling a bit sick, and I’ve–“

“Oh no,” He mumbles something on the other end of the phone and it sounds like he’s talking to someone. “Send me your address, I’m bringing you breakfast and medicine.”

“Wha- No, Seojun, you don’t ha–“

“Forget it, I got it right here,” Another voice mumbles something and you stare at your phone, confused. “See you in twenty.”

Sighing in defeat, you throw the phone on the other side of the bed and move to the bathroom, hoping that a shower would help you feel more alive. It didn’t and now you just feel more tired then ever, dragging your body to the living room where you can at least enjoy a few episodes of Criminal Minds, putting the volume way down low so that your migraine doesn’t get worse. You are not sure how long its been and you might’ve fallen asleep, but the harsh knocks on the door have you jumping up and running to the door in seconds.

“Seoju–“ You stop mid-sentence, smile fading when seeing who’s next to him. “Mr. Nam. What are you doing here?”

“Y/N!” Seojun, gasps. “Don’t be rude.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes. “He’s not my boss, I owe him no respect.”

“I expected that, Seojun, don’t worry,” Mr. Nam pats Seojun back, in a supporting manner that you’ve never seen before. “Ms. Y/L/N, how have you been?”

“Look, maybe we should do this another day, I don’t feel good as it is and this is not helping,” You try to close the door, but when Mr. Nam blocked the entrance with his foot and pushed the door open, there was nothing you could do about it. “Mr. Nam. Please get out of my house.”

“Now, now, Ms. Y/L/N,” He sits on your couch and Seojun follows, barely raising his eyes from the ground in shame. “I think we need to talk.”

You break out in cold sweat and you are sure it is not thanks to the two blankets wrapped around you.

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about,” You say, voice wavering but standing your ground still.

“Don’t be disrespectful, Y/N,” Seojun practically begs. “Just sit down and listen to Mr. Nam. He just wants to talk.”

“Seojun,” You gasp, not believing that your friend is doing this to you. After you formally quit from the company, you told him what happened, and at the time he had shown you full support towards quitting.

“No,” He rises up, voice clearly angry. “Stop being a bitch, and listen to other people for once.”

This is like a punch to your stomach, and holding tears back, you excuse yourself out of your own apartment to knock on the neighbor’s door, a young man you met when you moved in.

“Hey,” You mumble, sniffling a bit, and his eyes go wide. “Hey Namjoon, c-can you help me for a sec?”

“Y-yeah, of course,” He steps out of his apartment, putting his hands on your shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” You say, and you proceed to give him a quick overview of what happened in between you and Mr. Nam. “… and that’s why I need your help. He makes me uncomfortable and, honestly, scared, so I don’t want to be alone with them. Could you come back with me and pretend to look for something or whatever?”

“Yeah, of course!” He frowns and straightens his back, making himself even taller. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sure I left it right over there,” You say loudly, making sure that Mr. Nam and Seojun hear you coming back in with someone else. “In the kitchen.”

“Who’s that?” Mr. Nam asks as Namjoon slowly moves to the kitchen, giving him and Seojun a cold nod.

“That’s my neighbor,” You say, taking a step back from the man, keeping yourself close to the kitchen door. “He lent me something a few weeks ago and needed it back…”

“Now?” Seojun rolls his eyes. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Mr. Nam chuckles. “Can we talk now?”

“What about?”

“Sit,” Your ex-boss points at the place next to him in the couch but you prefer to sit on the armchair, separated from the couch by a center table. “Okay. I came here to tell you that we want you back.”

“W-What?”

“We want you back, Y/N,” Mr. Nam sighs. You faintly notice Namjoon in the kitchen, but your heartbeat takes over and soon enough you can barely hear anything but the du-dum, du-dum, du-dum du-dum du-dum and you feel as if the room is spinning out of control.

“No” You mumble, starting with no strength at all but soon enough letting all your emotions out. “No way. I have a job! One that doesn’t have me crying in bathrooms; one that doesn’t have my boss abusing his power. I am finally happy and I am never going back to work for you, Jaesung Nam.” When you’re done, Namjoon is right behind you, ready to jump in whenever necessary.

“Y/N Y/L/N, apologize right now,” Seojun demands, taking a step towards you but stoping when Namjoon puts himself in the middle. “Can’t you appreciate what Mr. Nam is trying to do for you? What job could you have that is better than the one you had before?” Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself for the mocking that will surely come. “I work at the bakery a few blocks away. You probably hear of it, it’s gotten really popular.”

“Wait,” Namjoon is the one turning to you, surprised. “You work with Jin? You’re the new girl?”

“You know Jin?” You cough, chocking on your words.

“A bakery?” Mr. Nam laughs. “Y/N, come back to the company. We’ll re-instate you in the marketing team, offer you a better pay, and–“

“I used to be Marketing manager,” You sigh. “You want me back, but not enough to finally give me the recognition I deserve, huh?”

“Y/N–“

“How do you even expect me to come back when you’re offering me a demotion?” You cry out, sniffing through the stuffed nose that now seemed to be getting worse. “Y-You know what? Get the fuck out. I’m done with you two, get out before I lose my fucking mind.”

And when you least expect it, there’s another knock on the door.

“Oh my– who the fuck could that be, huh?!” You squint your eyes at your ex-coworkers. “Ms. Jung from Accounting? Mr. Lim from Editorial? Oh! No, wait, I got it– GOT7, how about that?”

You swing the door open only to see Jin looking as angry as Namjoon. He marches in, pushing you behind him, and you swear to god you’ve never seen a man wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans look so hot in your entire life. His hand is strong and warm around yours, and all the adrenaline that was previously running through your body starts to run out, and the sickness sinks in, leaving you tired once again. So tired that while all the male energy in the room is preoccupied with staring each other down, you feel faint and allow your head to rest on Jin’s back.

“What is happening over here?” Jin asks, voice low and dangerous. “Joon texted me and I ran over.”

“Nothing,” You grunt, trying to lift an arm to point at Mr. Nam, but you have no energy left in you. “They are just leaving.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, just listen to us,” Mr. Nam hisses, with that sick smile of his plastered on his face. “We have a great offer. Passing down like this is foolish, you’re being–“

“Naive?” You snap, coming out from behind Jin. “Huh? I’m being what, Mr. Nam? A scared, little girl? What you gonna do about it? Scream at me? Point at me? Steal my ideas?”

He gulps and something within you clicks.

“Is that why you’re here?” You ask, looking at both men. “Because you want my ideas?”

“Listen, you were our best marketer,” Mr. Nam says, although you know he doesn’t want to. “You came up with the best ideas for our auditions and publishing offices. We need that back.”

“Oh, that is golden,” You laugh, humorlessly. “You are back here, in my apartment, begging me to come back, because you want to steal my ideas again?!”

“Say the word, Y/N,” Namjoon mutters behind you. “Say the word and Jin-hyung and I will take care of these idiots.”

“Leave them to me,” You smile creepily. “I’ve been dying to do this for years.”

With just three long strides you walk to Mr. Nam, the man that still torments your dreams and haunts your every decision, and slap him across his face.

“Get out.”

Every word is strong and loud.

“Get out of my house, you fucking dumbass,” You hiss in his face. “Before I call the police to escort you out. If you can’t do your job, don’t come begging me to do it for you. I’m done. Leave.”

Seojun tries to grab your hand, to stop you, talk to you, beg you, you wouldn’t know– Jin got in the middle and practically dragged both of them out of your living room and into the elevator.

“We’re going to your precinct first thing in the morning,” Jin tells Namjoon and his friend nods. “We’re going to need to file restraining order for Y/N.”

“What are you talking about?” You scoff, just wanting all of this to be done so you can finally enjoy the feeling of standing up against Mr. Nam. “I just want to sleep, guys. Thanks for everything, the two of you, but I think you should go.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jin asks you with wide, unbelieving eyes. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for four days and nothing. Then, the first time I see you again, you have two insane men in your apartment. So no; I’m not going to leave.”

You blink, not sure how to proceed. “Jin, I’m feeling really sick right now, okay? I want to explain everything, but I really just need to sleep this cold off first.”

“Then go sleep,” He pushes you to the hallway. “I’ll stay here and make you some soup for dinner. I can also go grab some medicine from Joon’s place, he has a whole pharmacy in there.”

It takes some convincing, but apparently Jin is really good at that. While you sleep, he busies himself with cooking and humming through the morning. When you wake up again, it’s barely noon, and your house is filled with the most amazing smell of kimchi-jjigae.

“Come eat,” Jin smiles a bit when he sees you standing by the kitchen door, Joon nowhere to be seen.

“You really didn’t have to,” You say, taking the pills he gives you. “But thank you. Really. It means a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” He blushes. “I was worried. You weren’t responding to my texts or answering my calls… when Namjoon texted me I was relieved for a second.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into that,” You say, voice coming out less raspy thanks to the warmth of the soup. “I didn’t know Mr. Nam was coming here and–“

“He’s the asshole that made you quit, isn’t he?” He asks, grabbing your hand. You nod, still eating. “I can’t believe he did that to you, Y/N, I swear to god if I see him again, I’m going to end him.”

“Why?”

The question comes out before you can even think about it.

“What?”

“Why do you care, Jin?” You smile, although quite sadly. “I mean… I woke up alone, for crying out loud. You left me, and I woke up by myself. So if you didn’t care then, why do you care now?”

“I always cared,” Jin says, rolling his eyes. He sets a plate in front of your and everything smells delicious. “I know I don’t always show it, but I always cared. The only reason I kept the cinnamon buns in the menu is so that Minji comes back every morning and talks to you– you seem happy when she’s around. I make to cook a fresh batch of chocolate chip scones just so that you have your cool down time, as I like to call it; it’s when we have almost no movement and you allow yourself to sit down and eat something, so I always try to have your favorite ready.”

“Is that why we always have an absurd amount of chocolate chip scones left?!” You ask, gasping in shock.

“Of course,” Jin laughs, watching you pout. “No one eats that atrocity. Just you.”

“So you make those just for me?” You whisper, feeling your eyes starting to tear.

“You like them,” He sighs, and when Jin finally looks at you again, you recognize the emotions swirling in his eyes. You saw them before– that night. “Jin–“

“I also talked to Sana,” He clear his throat, telling you everything he feels need to get out of the way. “She is not going to bother us again. I told her I am not going back and that we–“

You don’t care about the rest of that sentence. The us and we is all you need to finally be certain that Jin is as much in this as you are; so you kiss him. You grab him by his shirt, and for a second you have a deja-vu of the two of your drunk, on the floor, on the table; however, nothing matters once his hands find your hair and he tugs your head back, giving him more access to your mouth, your neck, your everything. Jin is as unsure as you are but soon enough you two are on the couch, his hands on your ass, bringing you as close as humanly possible.

“Y/N,” He groans, and you whine, desperate for his attention. “Goddamnit, woman.”

Your mouth moves from his, down to his neck– your teeth sinks in his skin, softly pulling a groan out of him, and you can swear you feel it down to your bones.

“I like you,” You whine, too lost in the sensation of him to actually pay attention to your words. “Fuck, Jin…”

“I like you more,” He chuckles, mouth finding yours once again, pulling and pushing, giving and taking, and taking, and taking all you can give. “I like you so much more.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, and when he notices, he bites your lower lip, pulling it a bit. “Careful, there princess.”

“Jin,” At this point, your head is completely empty… so empty that when you sneeze, you are as shocked as the man in from of you. “I forgot!”

“You forgot you are sick?” He laughs, making that high pitched sound you’ve grown to love so much.

“It’s all your fault,” You groan, trying to get up from the couch. He holds you down.

“Make that noise again and a stupid cold won’t be enough to keep me away from you,” He whispers in your ear, giving your neck a last nip before getting up and pulling you with him. “Now go take a nap. I need you better soon, that place is a mess without you.”

“You can just say you’re a mess without me,” You wink, moving to your room. “I won’t judge.”

For the next couple of days, Jin stuck by your side, only leaving to go grab a couple of extra clothes. He nurses you until you are feeling new again, and until you are able to go back to work. Those days had been absolute heaven; you and Jin had time to explore your new-found romance, pampering each other with kisses and compliments and the occasional make-out session. Although it took both of you some time, you had finally found each other, and you can barely sleep the night before having to go to the bakery again. You finally knew what it felt like loving your work; but now you’ve reached a new level. You get to the bakery with a smile, even if you haven’t slept a wink, and opening the place up, so that people that love the food, the drinks, the ambiance, can have a good start to their day, or a good end, if it’s late at night. And when you are finally done cleaning, you wait for Jin while sipping on some tea, watching him hum a random song; and it’s usually then that you know, you’ve never been this happy.

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holy shit this was long! hahaha I think this is the longest fic I’ve ever written, but it’s worth it! I absolute love it :) what do you think? Let me know in the comments! Your opinion matters the world to me <3

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