#when he posted it was like 1 o’clock in my country
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It’s 01:30 AM and I still crying :
#fedal#roger federer#rafael nadal#when he posted it was like 1 o’clock in my country#and i was like#crying hard#with#happy tears#while my roommate were studied beside my bed#i love them 🥹#i miss them
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Make. Believe. ❖ Act 3
Actor!Levi x Fem!Reader
The AoT Premiere approaches, but all Levi can think about is you.
Warnings/Content: NSFW, Minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, infidelity (Reader has a boyfriend as first), mentions of AoT final season episodes
A/N: There will be a final drabble that highlights more of the AoT episode premiere event; I wanted this part to focus more on our two main characters, but I've been having so much fun with the extra details in the drabbles. I hope you've enjoyed my take on AoT Actor AU!!
Act 1 | Act 2
Levi can’t keep track of what country he’s in, what time zone or even what day it is.
But he knows it’s been 186 days since he’s seen you.
Japan had been a whirlwind of promotions for the last two parts of the Attack on Titan final season, with meet-and-greets, commercial shoots, and talk show appearances. Europe had been much the same, and although it was exhausting, it was also fulfilling, being back with the cast, traveling with his old friends. He was sad to see it end, but he was also excited about other projects that were coming up. And next month, he’ll be going to the Cannes Film Festival, where the movie you and he shot together will finally premiere. After eight months, he’ll see you again.
But before that, he’s returned to Japan for the premiere of the final two episodes of Attack on Titan. Jet lag is still hitting him hard, and he sighs when he looks over at the clock and sees that it’s only two o’clock in the morning. Another sigh escapes his lips when he looks over at the naked body beside him in the bed. He can barely remember her name - was it Jessica? Jessie? All he really knows is that she was sitting next to him in the bar of the Tokyo Grand Hotel and that she looked as lonely as he was. He feels guilty - he’s never been one for one night stands - but he was yearning to feel your body again; and if he couldn’t have you, then this was good enough.
These days, your face is everywhere. You’d recently contracted with Christian Dior and were now the model for Miss Dior cologne. As Levi had arrived at Haneda airport, there was a giant poster of you tangled up in silk sheets with your hair cascading down one bare shoulder. “What Would You Do For Love?” the poster asked.
When he walked in a posh area of Shibuya, there was another advertisement of you; this time you’re lying across a sofa in a black silk dress, the pink bottle of cologne pressed against your chest. Your eyes are half-lidded and sultry - the same kind of look you’d give him when you’d make love, all those months ago.
He reaches over and grabs his phone, the light from the screen illuminating his face in the darkness as he scrolls mindlessly through Instagram. He stops when he sees that you’ve posted a picture.
“Just finished filming season one! Now for a much needed break.”
You’re surrounded by your other cast members, all of you smiling. A man has his arm around you and Levi squints to look closer at the picture. He wonders if he’s just a friend, or if it’s something more, then he laughs at himself.
What is he doing? Why can’t he forget you?
He’s the one that made this choice, and he’s the one that pushed you away. You’re smart, ambitious, and beautiful - of course you’d find someone else to be with. But he can't help but wonder what it’ll be like to see you in person again, and with you on his mind, he eventually falls asleep.
Hours later, Levi’s phone is buzzing and chiming erratically and it jolts him awake. He turns off the alarm, then checks the time. “Shit, I gotta get up.”
He’d promised Erwin that they’d do a run this morning around the Imperial Palace Gardens. As he gets out of bed and grabs a t-shirt, an arm from the woman next to him reaches over.
“Hey,” she says softly.
“Hey.” Awkwardness and regret drip from his voice. “This was fun but you’ve gotta go - I mean I - I’ve gotta go. I have somewhere to be.”
“Ok…let me just go clean up a bit,” she replies as she picks her clothes up off the floor and makes her way to the bathroom.
Putting on his running clothes, Levi shakes his head. They’re two consenting adults, but he can’t help but feel embarrassed about it all. He hates these kinds of awkward moments, especially when he knows he has no feelings for the woman.
He grabs his phone from the nightstand and notices there’s an unread message. When he unlocks his phone, he sees that it’s from you and his heart starts to beat fast.
“Hi. Have fun at the premiere tonight.”
That was it, but Levi reads it a few times. He types out a simple, “Thanks,” not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to seem too eager.
He puts the phone down but after a few seconds, picks it back up again and types another message.
“How are you?”
He doesn’t realize that he’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Got some good news?” The woman is out of the bathroom and dressed.
Levi looks up from the screen then puts the phone down quickly. “Yeah. Maybe.” He walks over to her and kisses her tentatively on the cheek. “I’ll text you later.”
“You don’t have my number.” She’s seen right through his lie.
“Look I’m sorry, it’s just that I -“
“It’s fine, I wasn’t expecting more out of this anyway.” Before she opens the door to leave, she stops to look at him. “You’re a good man, Levi. I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”
—-
Erwin stands at the entrance of the Imperial Palace East Gardens, looking at his watch. “You’re late.”
“I know, I know, I got held up. Sorry about that.”
“Still jet lagged?”
“A bit,” Levi answers as he messes with his smart watch. “You?”
“Not really. Cold showers in the morning really help me to adjust.”
Levi laughs. “Of course. I forgot you did that.”
“Every morning. Let’s go.” Erwin and Levi start jogging down the path that leads through the East Gardens. It’s early spring and the cherry blossoms are at their peak in Tokyo, pink petals falling down around them.
When Erwin and Levi were on set for Attack on Titan, they would jog together every morning. It was something that Levi had always done alone, but found having a running partner comforting, even if they barely talked to each other. Erwin had a perpetual aura of calm around him, which was difficult to find amongst other actors. Levi hadn’t seen much of him since his character died, and both had been busy doing other projects; these past weeks doing promos for AoT made him feel like it was old times.
They finish an hour later back where they started, sunglasses on with the hope that no one will recognize them. “You ready for tonight?” Erwin asks as he walks up to a vending machine to buy a bottle of water.
“Yes and no. It’s bittersweet, to see something you worked on for so long finally end. But I’m proud of the work we’ve done on it, and I’m excited to see how the final episodes turned out.”
“Me too. It was good to be on set with you again, even for just a short moment.”
“Yeah, those were not fake tears coming down my face, let me tell you,” Levi admitted with a laugh.
As both men walked through the park, Levi reached into his pocket to check his phone and sure enough, there was another text from you:
“I’m doing good. :-)”
It elicits a smile from Levi and Erwin laughs. “What?” Levi asks defensively.
“Oh nothing,” Erwin replies, “that’s just an awful big smile. Must be someone special.”
“Someone I was trying to forget, actually.”
“And why would you do that?”
“Because I’m an idiot and I thought it’d be better that way for her.”
“Ah, I see.” Erwin sits down on a bench under a sweeping sakura tree and Levi follows. “Levi, in all the years I’ve known you, you’ve always put others ahead of yourself. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. But sometimes, you should be a little selfish.” He puts a hand on Levi’s shoulder. “And it’s ok to go after the things that you want. When you do that, life finds a way of working itself out.”
Levi smiles. Even off-screen, Erwin had a way of saying the wisest thing, right when he needed it most. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
“‘Course I’m right,” Erwin grins. “And as your commander, my final order is for you to go after this woman with your whole heart.”
They both laugh and talk as they make their way out of the park and to the busy streets of Tokyo. When Levi returns to his hotel and enters the elevator, he feels his phone buzz. It’s another message from you, and Levi’s eyes go wide when he reads it:
“I’m in Tokyo to attend the AoT premiere. I hope you don’t mind.”
——
Iceland was cold. And lonely.
The last six months shooting the series had been an incredible experience. The cast was a mix of seasoned actors and newbies just starting out, and with a young, emerging director looking to prove himself, you knew that you were a part of something great. The days were long and sometimes exhausting, and often ended up with you collapsed on your bed looking over lines into the wee hours of the morning. For the most part, you were happy.
But god, you missed Levi.
That last night you saw him, you couldn’t understand why he thought it would be better for you two to be apart, but you pretended to be ok with it. And it had taken everything in you not to knock on his door the next morning when you were leaving. You’d seen the jealousy on his face that night - you knew he still cared for you. But your pride had you walk away without so much as a goodbye. It’s what he wanted, right?
So you tried to move on and forget him. You’d even started dating someone on set; a feeble attempt to prove to yourself (and to Levi, in a way) that you could be a working actor and keep up a relationship. He was nice enough and the sex was good, but it just wasn’t the same. Something was missing.
You knew Levi hated social media and never updated his Instagram account, so you started following his AoT co-stars, hoping to get just a glimpse of him. Every once in a while, a video would come out on YouTube of him in an interview with other cast members, and you’d smile at how awkward he was at being himself in front of a camera.
When the date of the AoT premiere was announced, you immediately contacted your agent to get you on the guest list. You’d loved Attack on Titan for years - you had to be there. And to be honest, you wanted to see that dark-haired, brooding man again, even if from a distance.
Filming was wrapped for the next several months, to give you all some much needed rest, but you only had one day at home before you were back on a plane and headed to Japan. As you arrived at your hotel in the darkness of the early morning, you got your phone out of your bag. Somewhere, in this sprawling city, Levi was sleeping. You wonder, does he ever dream of you?
You find his name in your contacts and send him a quick text. He probably won’t respond, you think to yourself.
When you wake up late that morning and see that he has, your heart skips a beat.
You can’t help but smile as you send him a reply. Then another. You fall asleep for an hour or so and when you wake up, he’s answered you:
“Of course not. I hope I’ll see you there.”
——
The area around the Toho Cinema Roppongi Hills is starting to fill with people as the time for the Attack on Titan, Final Parts 1 and 2 premiere approaches. A red carpet has been rolled out and barriers put up; press and media have started to set up in their usual places, in preparation for pictures and interviews with the cast. Premieres are a huge event, and something that Levi has been involved in more times than he can count, but this one - the final AoT episodes - makes him feel emotional.
Now that he knows you’ll be here, he’s glad he didn’t bring a date - not that he was looking for one. He, Erwin, and Hange had decided to be each other’s dates months ago and frankly, he wouldn’t have it any other way. The three of them ride in a limo to the cinema, along with their publicists and agents. All of them are silent, feeling the weight of this moment, until Hange breaks the silence as they pull up to the entrance.
“Ok, boys…the last ride of the three amigos..”
The three get out of the car and the cameras instantly start flashing. Hange gets between both Levi and Erwin and takes either arm in theirs, walking the red carpet and taking pictures before they separate for individual photos and interviews.
Levi usually likes picking his own clothes out for premiers, but he let a stylist do it this time. He walks down the red carpet in black pants and jacket, with a black mesh collared shirt underneath, which gives just the faintest view of his toned chest. Silver rings adorn his fingers, and he’s slicked back his hair, which he’s been growing out the past few months, just for fun. Photographers are yelling at him from every direction, asking him to look their way, or to take a picture with Hange, Zeke, or Erwin. All around him are the smiling faces of people he’s known for over 10 years, and soon, other celebrities and guests attending the event follow behind them. He looks through the crowd and sees you having your picture taken. You catch his eye and smile; he tries to make his way toward you but he’s whisked away by his publicist.
There are seats reserved in the front of the theater for the cast, with guests sitting in the rows behind them. He takes out his phone and texts you almost immediately upon sitting:
“Come to the after party? It’d be good to catch up.”
He sends you the address and a few moments later, receives your reply:
“I’ll see you there. :-)”
As he puts his phone in the breast pocket of his jacket, Hange reaches for his hand. “Are you ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replies with a sigh, squeezing their hand tightly.
The lights lower and the screen lights up to cheers from the crowd.
—-
Watching the final episodes was emotional, to say the least, but the mood at the after party is joyful and energetic. Everyone is drinking, eating, laughing, and reminiscing. Levi is sitting at a table with Petra, Ulou, and Eld when Zeke runs up.
“Levi, Levi, Levi, I just heard the greatest idea!” He forces his way between him and Petra. “Cast tattoos!”
“What?” Levi laughs.
“Yeah! Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and the others are doing it - we gotta do it too. They’re leaving soon, so let’s go!”
“No, no, there’s no we in this,” Levi protests as he resists Zeke pulling him away from the table. “Besides, I’m waiting for someone.”
“Oh?” That stops Zeke immediately. “And who would that be?”
You thank your driver in your limited Japanese as you leave the car and enter the stylish restaurant. Walking through the crowded space, you see Eren and Mikasa laughing and drinking with a group of other young actors. As a fan of the show since its beginning, you are feeling like a total fangirl as there are cast members from every season around you. But as you walk around the room looking for Levi, you suddenly get nervous, thinking that maybe this was a bad idea; you’re not even sure what you’re expecting from this night.
Just as you think about leaving, you see him sitting at a table with the Levi Squad cast and Zeke, who has an arm around him. He looks up, sees you, and smiles, throwing Zeke’s arm off of him.
As he walks towards you, you admire how good he looks. He’s so sexy, you can feel yourself blushing.
“Glad you could make it” he says, pulling you in to kiss you on the cheek. His lips are soft, just like you remember them.
“I wouldn’t miss it. Attack on Titan has been my favorite series since forever. To be honest, I am so excited to be surrounded by the cast.”
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of them.” He places his hand on the small of your back as he leads you through the crowd. Your hunter green silk dress swoops down low in the back, so when his hand touches your bare skin it gives you goosebumps.
He takes you from group to group, introducing you to people you’ve only known through a screen. You laugh with Jean and Connie as they talk about the practical jokes they used to pull on Levi off-set; you sing Red Swan (your favorite opening song) with Armin and Sasha, Levi refusing to join in no matter how hard you all try; you take shots with Hange and gush about how much you loved their character.
Levi watches you and can’t stop smiling. He’d forgotten how good it feels to be around you, to talk and flirt with you. Your hand grazes his and when he weaves his fingers through yours, you don’t resist. Your eyes shine as you look at him; you don’t have to say a word but he knows you’re feeling it too.
The two of you eventually make it over to Erwin and you blush when Levi brags about the film you made together and your acting skills.
“No, no,” you interject, “Levi is the real talent. His acting on set was some of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Erwin smiles. “I’m sure you both complement each other well and that the movie will be spectacular. I’m looking forward to seeing it.” He gives Levi a knowing smile and lifts up his champagne glass.
“Levi! My buddy!” Zeke comes crashing through the group, clearly inebriated. “And who is this? It’s Miss Dior herself.”
“Oh you’ve seen those?” The way he says it brings a blush to your cheeks.
“Of course I have. You look absolutely mesmerizing in those ads,” he moves closer to you, “just like you do tonight.”
Zeke leans on a nearby table and gives a playful smirk. “How long are you staying in Tokyo? I could show you around, if you’d like.”
“She doesn’t need you showing her around anywhere.” Levi’s voice is forceful for the first time that night. You put a reassuring hand on his arm - you have to admit, you like seeing him a little jealous.
“Thanks for the offer, Zeke, but I already have extensive plans in Tokyo.” You give Levi a smile that lets him know that ‘he’ is the plan.
Erwin comes to the rescue of both of you. “Zeke, what’s this I hear about tattoos? Are we doing this tonight?” He puts an arm around Zeke and leads him away, giving you both a wink.
The restaurant is large and sprawling, built in the old Japanese style, but is an interesting mix of East and West, old and new. There’s a garden in the center with the main area and smaller, more private rooms surrounding it. Wanting to escape the noise and commotion, you lead Levi outside, “It’s a bit quieter out here.”
“And more beautiful,” Levi replies, as you walk across a small bridge crossing a koi pond.
“It really is beautiful out here. I’ve always loved Japanese gardens.”
“I wasn’t talking about the garden.” He moves closer to you as you lean against the banister of the bridge. “You look stunning.”
“You know why I chose hunter green, don’t you?” He shakes his head. “Because it’s Levi’s color.”
“Oh really?” He is in front of you now, his hand grazing your arm ever so slightly as he looks you up and down.
“Mmmhmm, he’s always been my favorite character.”
“Nice to know I have a fan.”
“I’m just one of many.”
“But you’re the only one that matters.”
That makes you giggle. “So flirty. Is that how you get the ladies these days?”
“I don’t want anyone else. I just want you.” He looks at you with his piercing eyes. “It’s always been you.”
His words are like music to your ears, but you’re determined to stand firm. You can’t let him off so easily. “That didn’t seem to be the case six months ago.”
“Because I thought it was for the best, but I was wrong. So wrong. And I’ve regretted it every day since.”
His hand moves around your waist and he pulls you close. The lights of the garden shine in his dark grey eyes as his lips softly press against yours. You can’t help but return the kiss, your mouth opening slightly, inviting his tongue inside. When he moves away slightly, you realize you’d been holding your breath.
“I never should have let you go.”
“Levi, I..”
A few noisy and slightly drunk guests amble outside, ruining the moment. Without a word, Levi takes your hand and pulls you to a far corner of the garden, toward the private rooms. He pulls back the heavy, velvet curtains separating the room from the garden and gestures for you to enter. The room is small and intimate, decorated in a western style with a large, ornate mirror. You walk around, admiring the wingback chairs and gilded furniture, and then you feel Levi’s presence behind you.
His fingers lightly skim your bare arms, leaving a trail of heat coursing through your body. You close your eyes when you feel his warm breath against your neck, followed by soft kisses.
“Levi..I’m seeing someone..” you manage to say.
“Oh yeah?” He responds gently in your ear before kissing your earlobe. “You sure about that?”
When you open your eyes, you notice that you’re in front of the mirror and can see Levi kissing along your neck and shoulders. He looks up and grins.
“Right now I only see you and me.”
He continues kissing along your shoulder until the thin strap of your dress falls down your arm. You can’t resist him, you never could, and so you give in to your desires. You lean your body until your back is pressing against his chest. One of his hands is holding yours while the other is moving the fallen strap down lower, exposing your breast.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he says as he looks at you in the mirror, his hand moving to cup your breast. “I’ve wanted to touch you like this all night.”
You guide his other hand lower, to the high slit of your dress, urging him to touch your thigh. “I missed you, Levi. So much.”
For you, it’s always been him as well. As much as you’ve tried to deny your feelings for him these past six months, all it took was one touch from him for it to all come back. And now you want more.
His hand finds its way between your thighs as his other hand massages your breast. “You’re already so wet for me,” he notices, as his fingers begin to rub your clit.
“You’re the only one who knows how to make me feel good,” you reply, then your breath catches as he pushes your panties to the side and sides a finger inside you.
It’s a beautifully erotic sight, watching yourself in the mirror as Levi pinches your nipple and pumps his finger in and out of you. You can’t help but let out a moan.
“‘Shhh, you don’t want someone to hear, do you?”
“I don’t care. Levi, I need you so badly.”
You turn around to kiss him, taking his jacket off and throwing it on the floor. Almost immediately, he has you pressed against the wall and is lifting your dress up to your waist. He’s unbuttoning his pants as you slide your panties down, but only get so far as taking them off one leg before he lifts that leg up and rubs his cock against you.
Levi has tunnel vision right now; all he can see is your perfect body, all he wants to hear are the moans of his name from your pretty mouth. And that’s exactly what he gets when he thrusts inside you. You bite your bottom lip as he pounds into you again and again. “I thought you didn’t care if someone heard us?”
“I’m trying to be good,” you reply breathlessly.
“Oh I think we’re well past being good.”
He pins your arm over your head as his other hand is still lifting your leg, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. You kiss and suck on his neck, leaving a small mark.
“Careful there..”
“What? Makeup can cover it up,” you tease seductively, referring to the first time you and Levi made love.
He lets out a soft growl. “Then I suppose now we’re even.” He picks up the pace, watching as your breasts bounce up and down with each hard thrust. You’re driving him wild; every nerve in his body feels completely alive.
“Levi, I’m…”
He knows. He’s feeling it too. He kisses you long and hard, then feels your walls spasm around him. It’s just what he needs to push him over the edge, and as he cums inside you, it’s as if the whole world has stopped; only your uneven breaths mark the time passing.
You continue to spasm around his cock as your mind goes completely blank. You can’t explain it, but Levi elicits the longest, most intense orgasms from you. It’s just how your body reacts to him - you can’t explain it.
He says your name in your ear, his voice deep and raspy. “Will you forgive me? For all the time we wasted apart. I don’t want to do any of this without you.”
“Yes. Yes, I forgive you.” You run your fingers through his silky hair. “I know we can make this work.”
Of course you forgive him. You’d forgiven him the moment you laid eyes on him tonight; maybe even before that.
The bottom of your dress falls back over your legs and Levi gently pulls the straps back up on your shoulders. You are his, and he is yours - it’s always been this way, and now both of you know it. As you fix your hair and touch up your lipstick in the mirror, there’s a commotion in the garden.
“Leeeeeviiiiiiiii! Where are you? We’re getting tattoos!”
He’d know that yell anywhere: it’s Hange.
“Yeah, come on, Levi! We’re all getting tattoos!”
And Zeke is with them.
“Goddammit. Let’s stay here a little longer.”
You laugh. “You should do it…for memories.” You cup his cheek and give him a kiss. “Get it on your ass, so then only I can see it.”
At that, Levi rolls his eyes. “Don’t make this weirder than it already is.”
He takes your hand in his, then meets the screaming duo in the garden. “Ok, fine, let’s do this,” he resigns, as he leads you along to join the group.
“You want me to come too?”
“Of course.” His face is serious, but there’s a joy in his eyes. “I don’t intend on letting you out of my sight.”
“Yes!” Zeke exclaims. “Eren, Levi is in! Let’s go!!”
And so you walk, hand in hand, out of the restaurant to find the others.
——
“There’s no denying that the two of you have an incredible chemistry in the film. Did that come naturally?” the interviewer asks.
“I think I felt that spark between us almost immediately. Wouldn’t you say?” Levi answers.
“Oh yes, absolutely,” you reply fondly.
It’s the week of the Cannes Film Festival and you and Levi are on the interview circuit. After the AoT premiere, you broke up with your boyfriend and stayed with Levi in Tokyo, then went with him to Singapore and Seoul as the cast traveled from city to city. The month flew by and the next thing you knew, you were both traveling to France.
You’re together everywhere, and the paparazzi have quickly deduced that you're an item. It’s been a hot topic of all the celebrity and gossip sites, but neither of you care - a rare occurrence, for Levi especially, who has always valued his privacy intensely.
“And you’re actually a couple in real life, correct?”
“We are.” You answer tentatively. “He tolerates me, anyway.” You make light of it, but answering this question always makes you nervous, since you’re not quite sure how much Levi wants to share.
“More than tolerate,” Levi squeezes your hand, “she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to my life.”
He knew this question would come up, because it always does these days. But he’s realized, he’s not concerned with the gossip or the naysayers; he knows that whatever challenges come your way, the two of you can ride it out.
He believes this will work, because he’s in love with you. And after this interview is over, he’s going to tell you exactly that.
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#levi ackerman smut#levi x fem!reader#levi x reader#levi x you#actor!levi#aot actor au#aot actor au fan fiction#aot fanfiction#n.sfw#sixpennydame series#sixpennydame make.believe.#make.believe. part 3
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Why Emesis Blue Medic should be taken off the Gravel War Battlefield.
My overall Em Blue theory is that it’s a shared nightmare, so keep that in mind for this post.
So we know Dr Ludwig has been diagnosed with Schizophrenia by somebody at BLU. The reason we know this is because he gave Scout the same medicine that he’s been taking, which you wouldn’t do if you had two different issues going on.
If you were Scout and your doctor friend was addicted to this medicine, you wouldn’t want to get addicted yourself. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Scout theorizes that the medicine is part of the problem.
So here’s my theory on what mental health problem is plaguing BLU Medic:
Because he was roughly 6 when the N*zis took power in 1933 and Jewish, Fritz had a lot of trauma from a young age. He developed DID, formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder [it can only develop from childhood trauma]. His parents and doctors were limited in what they could do because of the state of the country; they also thought his hallucinations of other personalities were imaginary friends.
When he escaped to America as an adult, he decided to join BLU in the hopes that other mercenaries would be willing to go fight against Germany in the war. But then the first respawn failures happened, and he got roped into being an “expert” on the issue.
Spy’s Disguise gave us a brief window into what was happening to the doctor during the respawn crisis.
He hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s got an exposed cut on his face, a five o’clock shadow, and bags under his eyes.
He didn’t speak or blink for any of the scenes he was in, which was off putting to Engineer. He even showed them what was wrong using a VHS, not his words.
Overall, he seems aloof and unapproachable, which is different to how he acted in Em Blue.
We know Jules Archibald must be a hack since Soldier and Spy had a nightmare where he’s callously letting people die for money. If he’s too posh to defend himself like he was in Spy’s perspective, he’s got to be too posh to deal with respawn failure gore.
But that wouldn’t stop him and his crew from holding Medic to a high standard when it came to his work, even if they didn't really want to spend money to fix the problem. I imagine the Administrator was the one that had to “motivate” them to allocate funds, and it would take her a while to get fed up.
So in the meantime, Ludwig developed a new, scarier personality to help him deal with Jules and new respawn failure trauma.
He was the one in control when CyberSpy was examined, and when he was given the bad news about his condition.
We know the doctor still doesn't understand his condition because of the nightmare versions of his other personalities.
This is the nightmare version of the unblinking, mute personality from the funeral. But he’s not the only personality that Fritz is afraid of.
This hallucination gives us more insight into how the doctor views his other personalities.
1. They are trying to trick him and other people. Whichever one this nightmare is based off of is good at pretending to be him.
2. They hate him. He woke up with blood on his hands and no memory of why. The nightmare got angry that he tried to wash the blood off himself. It didn’t hesitate to hurt him.
3. They love violence, and they want to hurt him. This one choked him out and slammed his head into the mirror. And again, he woke up with blood on his hands.
Him unknowingly killing Scout’s Ma and kidnapping the poor guy happened because he’s afraid that these personalities want to do that. He’s afraid that they’re plotting something and biding their time, Em Blue is the manifestation of what he thinks they’re up to.
The plague doctor was reaching towards him like it was going to be fake nice, despite all of its terrifying features. He thinks that one is trying to lull him into a false sense of security.
He’s wrong about them, and we have proof. We have the actual personality that the mirror monster is based off of, and a long scene with him in control.
This is the personality that developed to deal with RED mercs on the battlefield. That’s why he’s so good at fighting and acts so terrifying.
Now imagine for a moment that you black out during a fight, and when you come to your team is freaking out over you. They say you started beating the RED team senseless, with a terrifying grin that nobody has seen from you before. You don’t remember any of it, and unfortunately it’s only the first of many times this will happen.
That’s Dr Ludwig’s perspective. He doesn’t know what they want. He doesn’t know what they are or how to get rid of them. They keep appearing in the corner of his office or his room, if you watch him talk to Scout in his MedBay, he keeps looking around like he expects another person to be there. He just wants it to stop, so he starts relying on Valium as a crutch.
The bottle reveal is an interesting scene to me, because Emesis Diazepam horrifies the doctor. It must be something he knows is dangerous, and he’d never take knowingly.
Here are some symptoms of long term Valium/Diazepam abuse
Persistent drowsiness
Confusion
Memory loss
Fatigue
Dizziness
Blood in urine/feces
Depression
Anxiety
Tremors
Sleeping problems
Nightmares
Hallucinations
Seizures
Here are the overdose symptoms:
Coma [can still breathe]
Bluish lips and fingernails
Blurred/double vision
Slowed/stopped breathing
Confusion
Depression
Dizziness
Drowsiness
Excitability
Hiccups
Rapid eye movement
Rash
Stomach is upset/pained
Tiredness
Tremors
Uncoordinated movement and weakness
I think the bottle reveal is meant to be a wake up call about the Valium addiction. Maybe the other personalities know he should stop taking it, we do see the quiet one standing behind him afterwards.
DID personalities develop to protect a person from their trauma and keep them safe. Sometimes these personalities can be dangerous because they believe that they are demons, evil, or that destroying the host body will just send them back to their own. People wake up parked on bridges and in other odd places because another personality took control then switched back.
But in every scene where we get to see the others in control, they appear to be trying to help Fritz, not make things worse. The quiet one was trying to keep him safe from Spy and the people at BLU that made him a scapegoat. The violent one was attacking the Engineers to try and save both Medic and Scout, and probably tried to take control at Scout’s house so he could deal with BLU Ma’s body instead.
When the ambulance crashed into the telephone pole, that was because the quiet one over exerted himself and blacked out. But remaining parked outside of Scout’s house and waking up may well have happened because of the Valium abuse. The medicine is causing more symptoms that overlap with DID, and exacerbating the distrust that Fritz feels towards the others.
This doesn’t make him a bad guy, he doesn’t know what he’s doing to himself or that the others are trying to help him. The quiet one is terrifying, and seeing him in the corner of your room would get on your nerves. Blacking out and being told about actions you don’t remember doing would be terrifying, and I don’t blame him for assuming the personalities are malicious.
Maybe it would be better for BLU Medic to keep working as BLU since it’s become home, but not as a battle Medic. First he needs to reconcile with the others and understand what they are trying to do. Then they need to work together to decide whether he should retire or stay at the familiar base. But he’s having too many issues to be fighting other mercenaries.
The Spies and RED Medic that looks exactly like him are just going to confuse matters more, whether they know it or not. They gotta get another BLU Medic to fight on the field, this can’t go on.
#tf2#emesis blue#character analysis#sad lad hours#emesis blue medic#emesis blue theory#Angst#medical symptoms#Not a psychiatrist
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Stuck in the middle with you Senpai a pillar
2023.03.25 Tavara-asema, Tampere
Part 1. Waiting for Senpai (art-house cut)
Senpai arrived at the stage door with the gear trailer at exactly 3:22 PM. This time he was riding shotgun. I waved. I had been hovering around there since a little bit past 2 o’clock. It was something like -2C out, I'm in my kilt and a t-shirt under my coat, and nobody had expected it to have snowed overnight so I hadn't packed leggings. I was starting to lose the feeling in my fingers. Yet I persisted for some reason. I really didn’t want to bother him too much so I apologized for being clingy last week (ironic considering how I was doing this) and passed a tiny note in tiny lettering. This was a bit of an impromptu one I composed last night, so I just used a sheet from the random notepad I keep in my bag, hence the tiny paper. More on that later (probably another post).
He said that he doesn’t really do the social media stuff [1][2], but their social media guy told him that I made that (terribly unpolished but actually pretty okay) cover the other day.
I went back to my friend’s place to thaw out before heading back in the evening. When I got back out there a bit past 6 (doors were at 7), superfan couple and blonde fangirls were already there (as well as like 2 other people I don’t recognize well enough to have nicknames for).
(But if you think about it in a different way, they didn't start the queue, I did. At 2 PM.)
The show (and indeed the entire tour) was sold out, and by the time they let us in, the queue extended past the entire length of the building.
__________
Part 2. The Pillar
This was a very new (it only opened last month) but very strange venue. It’s a converted warehouse and there’s a structural pillar JUST off-center abutting the stage. I had parked myself right in front of the pillar at first (FAIL), but as more people arrived and things started getting squishy I ended up right at the center?? It’s WEIRD being dead center??? I don't WANT to be there necessarily but I suppose if you're giving me that opportunity, then sure.
Superfan couple was on one side of me and on the other side was a local couple who was super lovey-dovey and the woman was a bit out of it and was trying to make conversation with me but kept saying the same few things over and over again. But whatever helps me pass the time, I guess. She's a newer fan (like 2 years) and was also at Joensuu last summer? What drives (pun intended) even the more casual fans to drive across the country chasing them around?
Later she would say that she found the new album too depressing but was impressed that I'd already learned (most of) the lyrics. But hey that's what happens when you've had it on repeat for 2 weeks.
__________
Part 3. The Gaggle Returns
I'm not entirely sure where the German guy from the gaggle was hiding (I did see the whole trio afterward), but the two gaggle ladies were taking up space beside the blondes and, for some reason, wearing Rauman Lukko hockey fan attire (they're from there, that much I know. Maybe just repping their town?? Was there a game here yesterday??? Tampere is a hockey city after all). The ladies also had their name tag badges, this time making an appearance on black cowboy hats.
If I had to assign the gaggle (ladies) a role like I did in my previous concert post, I'd say they are the cheerleaders. They like to shout things and one even brought light-up sticks to wave around????? (Are they just doing the hockey fan persona????)
To be honest, I found it rather obnoxious. But dang, my calligraphy banner/sign was definitely super-tame (but classy!!) in comparison.
When I declare myself "number one (non-Finnish-speaking) fan" I am directly challenging the gaggle (in my imagination), since they're the only other foreign groupies I know of.
__________
Part 4. Okay, Okay, but What About the Music??
Because the Pillar, Senpai moved over to the other side of the Pillar for some songs so that everybody could get to see him. Consequently, the front was actually kind of the worst place to be unless you're directly in line with the Pillar and can lean over to either side. But you'll never be able to see the entire band at the same time.
Samaan mutkaan kaatunut sometimes brings me to the verge of tears but I couldn't hold it back tonight because the lyrics were on my mind. The reason for this is elaborated in the tiny note I handed to Senpai, so I will discuss it later.
The set was the same as last week, except that this is one of the 3 performances with the expanded ensemble (as if it ISN'T LARGE ENOUGH ALREADY), so both backing singers were joined by their sisters (they're normally the alternates anyway), and a French horn and trombone were added to the instrumental department. The trombonist is Ukrainian and I was very tempted to shout 'Slava Ukraini!' when he was introduced but the connection between my brain and my mouth is a few seconds too slow.
Anyway, I didn't feel convinced that the extra players added anything substantial to the overall orchestration. It didn't help that the brass players were at the back behind the keyboards so I couldn't tell when they were actually playing. Coincidentally I also have tickets to the other two expanded ensemble shows, so I'll see if the concert hall setting (i.e. SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP) helps me figure out how exactly they contribute.
I'm not even sure why this was one of the special shows.
Another difference from last week is that they made the last 3 songs a normal encore section. (Cue "WE WANT MORE! WE WANT MORE!" from the gaggle ladies.) Last week they walked off the stage after Hetken ikuinen trying to get the audience to continue with the refrain before coming back but people were really confused. (But that's what you do with any new act, you tweak the things that don't work.)
SPOILER ALERT!!
The broken guitar bit is a gag; that's why he faceplants so elegantly. However the follow-through was different this time and more clearly signaled that it was for comedic effect.
__________
Appendix: Other stuff
They had received a second batch of pendants but I didn’t see any on the table so they must have sold like hotcakes the night before.
Jepa says I should keep making covers. Well there's no shortage of songs I still want to learn, but it hasn't earned me the reputation in the community that I thought it would. (This was a conversation about #foreveralone.)
I dislike these places where they very actively start kicking people out after the show.
__________
Footnotes
[1] This makes it even more remarkable that time he reached out to me about the address label.
[2] Which means that the best way to know whether somebody in the band has actually seen your post, is to see if it managed to catch Teemu's attention (and his like button).
__________
Pictures or it Didn't Happen below
The got-dang Pillar
The two pairs of siblings.
And probably the only time I'll ever get a picture of him looking at me (it's not worth the effort lol). It's a split second late after his gesture...
The guitar gag (now that I know it's a thing I'll try to get a picture of his faceplant.)
How many people is too many people on the stage???
Here's the view from the landing in the middle of the stairs, so you can better see The Pillar.
#music#concerts#vesterinen yhtyeineen#forever alone#i swear to god fangirling is such a dang rollercoaster#why am i like this
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I’m Sure - Adam Boqvist Imagine Part 5
Word count: 4.0K
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Adam: You followed me
I stare at the three words, blinking with tired eyes. All I want to do is sleep, especially after the day I’ve had with Holden, but the baby decided kicking me was more important. So here I am at four o’clock in the morning checking my social media when I should be getting another three hours of sleep.
I rub my eyes, unsure of how to even respond to the message.
It’s just a statement. I feel flabbergasted by it- really, we haven’t talked in years- well, technically months, but the last time we saw each other we just fucked, and our child went to see him without my knowledge or consent. How the fuck am I supposed to respond to those three words?
Y/N: I think we need to talk.
I sigh, setting my phone down. Might as well get straight to the point. The sooner I tell him about the second baby and ask why he would see Holden without at least running it past me the better. I roll over, pulling the blanket tighter around me. Hopefully I can sleep at least a little bit longer. I’m going to need it to deal with the moody adolescent I’ll be seeing in the morning.
~
“I made some toast and bacon. Just let me just finish cutting up these strawberries and then breakfast will be ready,” I inform Holden as he hops down the stairs.
He picks up the filled plate waiting for him on the table, throwing the food into the trashcan and setting the plate on the counter, giving me an expectant look.
I stare blankly back at him. I know he’s waiting for a reaction. He wants me to blow up so then he feels okay yelling at me instead of starting the confrontation himself. Instead, I just say, “That’s wasteful.”
He rolls his eyes, grabbing his backpack from its usual spot by the door and making his way outside, letting it slam shut behind him. I release the breath that I’ve been holding in, popping a strawberry into my mouth.
I open my Instagram app to catch up on the posts that I’ve missed, freezing when I see that I’ve received a DM. I forgot that I sent a message to Adam last night. Well, technically this morning. After I sent the message, I passed out hard, and I thought the whole thing was a fever dream.
Adam: What about?
Adam: Here’s my number
My fingers tap the screen quietly as I add his phone number into my contacts, saving it and staring at it blankly.
Well. No time like the present.
Before I can even realize what I’m doing, before I can even think things through and decide what to say or whether this is a good idea or not, or hell, even what time it is in Chicago right now, I click on the phone icon.
I curse to myself, raising the phone to my ear. Absentmindedly, my hand raises to my mouth so I can chew on my fingernail. Nail-biting is a nervous habit that I gave up years ago, but I guess old habits die hard.
“Hello?” His groggy voice comes through the phone.
I can’t breathe.
The oxygen gets stuck in my lungs. All I can think about are his hands on my body, sliding down to grip my hips. The twinkle in his eyes as I would pull my shirt over my head.
And not to mention the last time I saw him. His hair is longer than he used to keep it, but it suits him. It looks good on him. And he bulked up since the last time I saw him, too- his abs definitely looked and felt like it, anyways.
“Hello?” He repeats, sounding more awake and borderline annoyed now.
“Adam,” I respond softly, suddenly feeling shy. Come on, where did my confidence go? I’ll need it to get through this conversation.
“Y/N,” he says, all sounds of annoyance out of his voice. “You actually called, I didn’t think that you would-“”Sorry for waking you up,” I blurt out, glancing at the clock and seeing that it’s seven in the morning here. Chicago is an hour behind Philadelphia- it’s what kept me from calling the boys on the team late at night for several years.
“Oh, no, no, don’t you ever worry about that,” he reassures me. It’s quiet. I know he’s waiting for me to speak, to let him know what I want to talk to him about, but I just can’t get the words out. I feel them stuck in my throat, clawing to escape. “So, how’s Holden?”
And there it is.
That question is what spurs me to speak, to dig into the man who hid a huge secret like that from me. But I guess I’m doing the same thing to him now.
“I don’t know, how is he, Adam?” I spit out.
He sighs. He sighs. I want to punch his perfect fucking face.
“If I had realized that you had such a problem with it-“”Such a problem with it?” I repeat, not believing my own ears. Suddenly I’m reminded of why I decided not to tell Adam about this baby and why he wasn’t ready to be in Holden’s life for thirteen years. Hell, it sounds like he’s still not ready.
“My son lied to me about his intentions of going to Chicago, traveled halfway across the country by himself, and saw someone who he’s never met before. Yes, I have a fucking problem with it,” I growl.
“Our son.”
“What?”
“He’s our son. You said my son.”
All I want to do right now is to reach through this tiny screen and hit him upside the head. Really, after I lay out all of my concerns, this is all he has to say to me?
“Whatever. When are you coming to Philadelphia next?” I question. I don’t want to air all of grievances and talk about the new baby over the phone. I’ve had enough communication classes to know that you need to see someone’s nonverbal behaviors instead just hearing what they have to say.
“Why? You want to see me?” Suggestion laces his tone.
No, asshole, you already got me pregnant again.
“Yes. We need to talk about Holden… and some other things,” my voice trails off at the end, not sure how to warn him about such big news.
“Some other things, eh? Well, I’ll be looking forward to that,” he responds, clearly thinking that it’s something regarding us and our relationship, well, our dislike or lust for one another or something, instead of picking up what I’m trying to hint at.
“Cool. So, can you take a trip to Philly sometime soon or are you going to wait until hockey season?” I inquire.
“I can take a trip there, just for you. And Holden, of course.”
I can’t help but let a small smile slip onto my face. That sentence shows me that he’d be a good dad if he just put in the effort. It infuriates me that he’s kept that from Holden for years just because he hasn’t felt like working towards a relationship with his son.
“Good. Let me know when you’re in town so we can meet up.”
“What? You’re not going to invite me to stay with you?”
“Goodbye, Adam.” I hang up before he can respond. All I can imagine the rest of the day is his reaction after that phone call. He would have that small, knowing smile on his face, pulling his phone out of his pocket every five minutes to check and see if he got a new text from me or to send the fifth one in a row to me- one that I still would not respond to.
And my heart skips a beat at the thought of that.
~
It’s been a week since the phone call and since Adam sent me a screenshot of his booked ticket to Philadelphia two weeks from then. For some reason, maybe it’s the stupid, hopeless romantic part in me, I had hoped that he would book his plane ticket and hotel room for that night or even the next day. But he told me he had some ‘lose ends’ to tie up in Chicago before leaving.
And it’s also been a week since Holden has said a word to me. I’ve tried talking to him. I’ve asked him about his day, his friends, cooked him his favorite meals all week, I even offered to take him to Target to get a new video game.
None of that has worked. And it hurts. It hurts knowing that after everything I’ve done for him and everything I’ve sacrificed for him, and how Adam has done none of that, he looks at Adam like a God and me like the scum on the bottom of his shoe.
I know it’s what I’m supposed to do as a mother, care for my son and make sure he’s happy, but it’s just- it’s just- ugh.
I start to feel my blood boil as my mom’s voice echoes in the back of my head. Life’s not fair.
It’s then that I realize that I’ve given him enough space and time to figure out his feelings and how he wants to proceed. I don’t want to give him too much space that he begins to resent me and feel like I don’t care about him.
I know that feeling all too well.
I knock on his bedroom door softly, waiting for him to open it before I just walk in. It creeks open slightly, and just as I expected, eyes matching my mom’s peek out to glare at me.
“Can I talk to you, Holden?”
He doesn’t respond, just stares at me.
“Please, you don’t even have to talk, just listen,” I beg.
Fortunately, he opens the door the rest of the way, watching as I walk into his room and sit gently on the edge of the bed. He sits down on his worn computer chair, laptop open to some video game I don’t recognize on his desk.
“I want to start by apologizing for yelling at you last week,” I begin, taking a deep breath. Apologizing isn’t something that comes easy to me- I grew up in a family where the words ‘I’m sorry’ were unheard of. My parents were always right, and I was always wrong.
“I realize it probably wasn’t easy for you to go to Chicago by yourself to meet your dad. Holden, I just want you to realize that I would do anything to protect you, and I love you with my whole heart so realizing that you were in such an emotionally taxing situation without talking to me about it first-“I pause to sniffle, starting to feel tears well up in my eyes. “I felt helpless. And I couldn’t stop wondering why you didn’t feel like you could share that with me and then I realized that it’s because I don’t share stuff with you either.”
He watches as I lift my sleeve, wiping the tears from under my eyes. His face is still blank, but his eyes look like they’ve softened. He’s understanding my words so far.
“So, yes, this baby is also Adam’s baby. And he did ask about you when I saw him back in February, but I let my pride get the best of me and I told him that he didn’t deserve to see you. I’m sorry for robbing you of meeting your father earlier,” I genuinely apologize, maintaining eye contact with my son.
He shifts in his seat, his hard exterior softening with every word. “Well, I’m sorry for calling you a shitty mother. And saying all of that other stuff. And, if it makes you feel better, I did go to the computer programming camp. I just saw Adam when we had a night off.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He nods.
“What did he tell you? About not being involved in your life?” I ask carefully, curious as to what Adam told Holden to turn him against me like that.
“He just told me that he was working through some stuff,” he shrugs, acting like he doesn’t care but I know my son well enough to tell that he does. “And he wasn’t ready until recently to meet me.”
I bite my tongue to keep it from releasing an insult towards Adam. “And how does that make you feel?”
“Honestly?” I nod, probing him to go on. “Pretty awful. I don’t think I want a relationship with him, mom.”
A mix of emotions run through my body at his word. I feel anxious, because now I have to tell him that Adam’s coming next week and will want to see him, sadness, because my son now recognizes how his father did not want be involved in his life, and anger toward Adam for making him feel like this in the first place.
“Well,” I cough awkwardly. “He’s coming to Philadelphia next week. I’m going to meet him to tell him about the baby. If you don’t want to see him, you don’t have to. It’s all up to you, bud.”
I stand up slowly, rubbing my belly as the baby begins to kick. He always seems to do that whenever I move even just a little bit- he’s an active little guy.
“Oh,” I turn back around just as I’m about to close the door. “How did you even find out who your father is?”
“Please mom, I’m not stupid,” he grins slyly at me, sliding his headphones onto his neck. “You lived in Chicago when you got pregnant with me and worked for the Blackhawks. I figured, since you said you worked a lot, the only guys you really had a chance to be with were on the team. And when I asked you about my dad for that project for school you said he was Swedish, so I just went to the Blackhawks roster in 2020 and found the Swedish players, messaging them some really uncomfortable and intrusive messages on Instagram.”
I chuckle at that, shaking my head. It will never not blow my mind how clever and smart he is. As I close the door to his bedroom, I hear him say, “On the plus side, Alex Nylander is a really nice guy.”
~
The day is finally here. Being eighteen weeks pregnant makes it really hard to hide my baby bump, but I somehow manage to find a baggy sweatshirt that I’ve stolen from one of my ex-boyfriends to cover it up. I don’t want to walk into the restaurant we’re meeting at and have him immediately know.
Somehow my jeans still fit on my legs, but I have a feeling by the end of this lunch they’ll be unbuttoned. It’s just the way it goes sometimes.
I get to the restaurant before Adam, just like how I planned it. I wanted time to scope out my exits in case I need to bail halfway through this meal- knowing Adam, it’s a possibility. I haven’t thought through what I was going to say too much.
I know I need to talk to him about why he would keep Holden going to Chicago to see him a secret from me, and we need to talk about the baby.
But mostly I just want to hear him grovel. The secret, sadistic part of me wants to hear him beg for forgiveness for making me raise my child by myself for the past thirteen years. I want to hear him admit that he fucked up- I’ve never heard Adam Boqvist admit that he fucked up before.
He shows up two minutes late.
I know because my phone is sitting face up on the table and I click on it every five seconds to see what time it is. I tell myself that if it gets ten minutes past noon and he’s still not here, I’m going home and giving up on dealing with Adam ever again.
But then he’s standing in front of me, familiar toothy grin on his face, black beanie on his shaggy hair, and a bouquet of red roses in his hand.
“You’re late,” I state sternly, not letting any sign of emotion onto my face. I need to let him know I mean business. I need to let him know that I’m never getting into bed with him ever again.
“Yeah, sorry, there was a line at the grocery store,” his grin begins to slip, but as he holds the bouquet out towards me, it takes over his face once again. “I got you these.”
“Thanks.”
I don’t make any movement towards them. His smile falls once again and I begin to feel guilty- he did buy these flowers for me, but he also impregnated me and left me twice.
He slides into the chair across the table from me, setting the flowers on the table and coughing awkwardly. “So, have you ordered yet?”
“Just water,” I respond shortly.
“Do you want to split a bottle of wine?”
“I’m not really a day drinker,” I eye him over the top of my menu, then go back to skimming through the items. It’s a charade, though. I already know what I want.
“Are you two ready to order?” The peppy waitress appears at our side, notepad open in her hand.
“I’ll have the chicken alfredo,” I announce, folding my menu.
“I’ll take that too. And a bottle of your sweetest wine, please,” the blonde orders, passing his menu to the waitress. When she leaves, he turns back to me. “I know you like the sweet stuff.”
I take a deep breath, deciding to cut to the chase. I’d rather get through this meal as soon as possible. The sooner we get done talking about this stuff, the sooner I can get out of here.
“Adam, I’m pregnant.”
He chokes on the sip of water he’s just taken from his glass, water dripping down his chin and landing on the table in front of him. I can’t help but watch with a content smile as he coughs, trying to catch his breath.
“Excuse me?” He utters through coughs, wiping his chin with a napkin.
“I’m pregnant,” I repeat. “I’m due in November.”
“Well, uh, congratulations,” he says unsurely.
I roll my eyes, muttering, “You clearly haven’t gotten smarter since last time.”
He seems to catch on to the hidden meaning behind my comment, his eyes widening. “Oh is it- since we-“”It’s your baby,” I conclude bluntly.
A smirk begins to spread across his face. I can’t believe it. He’s smirking just after I told him that he got me pregnant accidentally for the second time.
“Why do you have that look?” I snap.
“My little swimmers work pretty well, don’t they?” He inquires confidently, sipping from his water and succeeding this time.
I lean across the table, turning it on him. “I don’t know, do they? Are there any half-siblings that I need to worry about?”
The smirk is replaced by a look of genuineness now. It startles me, the sudden change of emotions. “No, it’s you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”
I lean back in my seat, the sudden seriousness too much for me to bear. I fiddle with the napkin sitting next to my glass, avoiding eye contact with him. “Yeah, so it’s a boy.”
“Another boy,” he echoes my very thoughts the moment I found out the sex.
I grin at the thought of my second child. When he’s been kicking me at night and keeping me awake, I think about what he’s going to be like. Is he going to cry a lot or is he going to be a quiet baby like Holden was? Will I have to keep an eye on him every minute or will I be able to get some breaks?
And what about when he’s older. Will he like hockey like his dad? Would he like the Flyers because we live in Philadelphia, or would he like the Blackhawks because his dad plays for them?
“Speaking of boys, how is Holden doing? He hasn’t been responding to my texts lately.” Adam means for the question to sound casual, but I can hear the undertone of worry in his voice. Maybe he isn’t as much of a shitty father as I think he is.
“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” I confess.
He doesn’t bother to hide the hurt on his face. I don’t expect him to. I know how it feels to feel unwanted and unloved by your child- I felt it when Holden told me that I’m a shitty mother. And although Adam deserves the consequences to his actions, I can’t help but feel a small amount of pity for him.
“I deserve that,” he sighs.
“You do,” I agree, knowing that I’m shoving the knife deeper into his heart. “But just give him time to decide what he wants to do. It’s all so fresh to him.”
He gives me a small, vulnerable smile.
“Why didn’t you tell me that he was going to see you while he was in Chicago, Adam?” I ask him the question I’ve been dying to ask ever since I found out about the situation.
He shrugs, not saying a word.
“Yes, you do know,” I persist. “So just fucking tell me. Enough of the bullshit, we’re in our thirties now. It’s time to focus on the children, not your fucking pride.”
He looks baffled by my sudden outburst, but it inspires him to answer. “I was afraid that if you found out, you would stop him. Then I’d never get to meet my son.”
“I would have stopped him,” I agreed, causing him to open his mouth to begin arguing with me. I start to speak again before he can begin. “And reschedule the trip to a time that works better with my work schedule so that I could go with him. Yes, you’re his father, but you’ve never been in his life. You’re essentially a stranger to him.”
He narrows his eyes at me like my words are a challenge. “Not anymore.”
I narrow my eyes at him now. “Really? What’s his middle name? When is his birthday? What’s his favorite color?”
He doesn’t respond and I scoff, taking a sip of my water again. “That’s what I thought.”
We’re quiet as the waitress returns with our meals. I cut my noodles, taking a bite of my food.
“I don’t want it to be that way with this baby,” he says, quickly adding, “And Holden anymore. I want to be there for this baby from the start. Or from now, I guess. And I want to be there for Holden, if he ever wants me.”
Mixed feelings begin to flush through my body. This is what I wanted for my kids from the beginning, an active father figure. And Adam’s offering it now, but why am I still feeling so hesitant?
After years of expecting him to step up as a parent and him never doing it, I have reasonable doubts when it comes to Adam’s parenting ability.
“Well, you know it’s up to Holden. You can’t force him to like you,” I begin slowly, trying to phrase my words in the best way possible. “But with this second baby… we can try it. I have a doctor’s appointment in two days. I’ll text you the address and time.”
“But my flight leaves tomorrow,” he whines. “Can’t you just reschedule for today?”
“You have so much to learn, Adam,” I shake my head. “I just hope you realize that being a parent means that you’re selfless more than selfish. Tell you what, go back to Chicago if you want to. But if you go back to Chicago, the only time you’ll communicate with the boys is when they want to talk to you.”
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get in, loser 1
Pairing: Taeyong x female!reader
Themes: smut | mafiaboss!taeyong | carthief!reader
Word count: 6.2k
Summary: How to get noticed by the most dangerous man in the country? I guess stealing his sport car and dying it hot pink must catch his attention.
Warnings: car theft | speeding | alcohol consumption | jaehyun being taeyong’s henchman | hardcore brainstorming | taeyong being touchy | more in next chapters
A/N This series will be around 5 chapters long. New updates shall be posted once every two weeks I hope. Also, @starlightbebes challenged me into posting chapter 1 on Taeyong’s birthday, so I won. ^^ Pay up.
***
Considering it was Saturday night, the city seemed oddly serene. Any other night, I’d witness some wild shit, yet tonight, it was quite peaceful. No prostitutes were arguing with no-cooperative customers, no inexperienced adolescents throwing up in the public trash cans, no aggressive football spectators fighting with their rivals.
Despite the calm aura, the city was vibrant; colorful neon signs were blinking, inviting people into different liquor establishments, cars honking on drunken pedestrians jaywalking across the streets, a few undiscovered musicians playing on the main square with plenty of tourists recording them.
Each establishment promised an unforgettable night, and for some people, it would be a real dilemma to pick one among such a rich palette of entertainment. I, on the other hand, had a pretty well-defined plan of stealing a fancy car – a precious possession of one, infamous crime lord in the country.
It wouldn’t be my first car theft, yet it surely was going to be the most meaningful one. Everyone in town knew that Lee Taeyong was up to no good. When it came to his personal taste, though, it was impeccable. The most expensive, the most extravagant, the fastest cars belonged to him, so stealing one of his astounding vehicles would be the cherry on top of my villainous career.
Rumor had it, tonight he’s celebrating in his VIP club – the Cherry Bomb; if you ask me, its name is a little bit tacky, but who I am to judge? The crowd of people trying to get inside was enormous, so despite its name, the local must’ve been quite profitable.
Being the most dangerous crime lord in the country must be a pretty time-consuming profession – I wouldn’t expect him to get to the club before midnight. Regardless of what must’ve been on his to-do list tonight, his schedule was bound to be packed.
It was almost 1 o’clock when matte black carbon-fibred McLaren P1 LM with “DRAGON” written on its registration plate pulled over in front of the club; in an instant, people in the queue grew silent, mesmerized by the handsome man who nonchalantly got out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet boy.
Lee Taeyong was just as good-looking as he was deadly – with his styled-up tousled vibrant-red hair, ripped black jeans, and a top-brand leather jacket, he made people turn their heads despite their gender and sexual orientation. In all honesty, I did my research, I had dozens of pictures of him, and I knew what to expect. The pictures didn’t do him justice, though. His natural beauty was enchanting, but when topped with his charisma and cocky confidence, it was a lethal mixture.
When Taeyong strolled inside his establishment, I, just like the other people who were in rapture, could finally get my shit together. It was remarkably difficult to remain in the right state of mind when he was within your eyesight, and tonight, it was going to be my most significant theft, so I couldn’t get distracted.
“You can do this,” I encouraged myself before running across the street, ready to execute the first stage of my plan.
I didn’t dare to doubt my skills for even a second. Tonight I would succeed, and Taeyong would have to call an Uber to get back to his grand mansion.
***
It’s been three days since my ingenious heist, and I was getting impatient. I wanted Taeyong to find me and talk to me, yet I was waiting and waiting, and he didn’t seem interested in getting his car back. It was actually disappointing. I couldn’t contain my curiosity; I just needed to see his reaction after I had his car tuned. I had made sure to be caught on their CCTV, so he would quickly track my traces, but it only proved me he was working with rookies.
Checking the time on my wristwatch, I walked into the run-down car repair shop, wanting to sneak one last peek at my masterpiece before I’d put a cover over it so Taeyong would gasp upon the big reveal. The new car paint looked amazing – Doyoung, my friend and a mechanic, did a great job dying it hot pink. Too bad, he was too scared to wait for Taeyong with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. Taeyong was known for his short temper, and it was understandable that Doyoung didn’t want to stick around to witness Taeyong’s wrath.
“What is taking him so long?” I asked myself as I plopped down in a ripped leather armchair, cracking a cold one. “How long does it take them to find the guys who don’t want to be found?” I wondered, pulling my phone, scrolling through the new content on my social media.
It was taking them forever, but when the sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, I could hear a vehicle park in front of the car repair shop. Judging by the engine’s roars, the car was expensive.
It must’ve been Taeyong himself.
“Finally,” I hollered as I got on my feet, throwing my slowly dying phone on the armchair. If the crime lord showed up, he needed to be welcomed accordingly. Taeyong was a royalty amongst gangers, and he deserved the best treatment.
Midnight blue Bugatti Chiron registered under “FURY” stopped on the parking lot, and I waited for Taeyong to get out. Seconds passed, and he was still sitting comfortably in the vehicle, building the tension. I didn’t feel stressed, though. Although we hadn’t been properly introduced, I knew a whole lot about him – he was famous for his rage. However, right now, he had to be impressed rather than enraged. Or at least, it was the emotion I hoped for him to feel.
Only a complete psycho, and me, would dare to steal one of his automobiles.
The descending sun was blinding me, and when I raised my hand to block the direct sunlight, the car doors opened. Even in daylight, Taeyong looked like a five-course meal. Today, he was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a Gucci T-shirt; the outfit was simple, yet on him, it looked elevated.
“Very impressive,” he shouted loudly before he coolly walked over. “You’ve got balls, I have to give you that,” he added, and I smirked, considering his words as a compliment. Men of high positions often have trouble complimenting people, let alone women, and Taeyong didn’t seem to be an exception.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too,” I answered politely, offering him a handshake, which he contemptuously denied. “I must say, I expected to meet you sooner,” I jabbed, but Taeyong only looked at me condescendingly before he walked inside, impatient to check up on his stolen property.
“My people located you yesterday morning, but I wanted to see you in person, and you must know, I am a busy person,” he explained, studying the shabby interior. “No one steals from me.”
“Well… I already have, and it was easier than I previously assumed,” I answered confidently before approaching the cover. “I have a surprise for you, are you ready?” Taeyong didn’t even flinch, and I considered his indifference as an agreement. With one quick pull, I uncovered the vehicle, allowing him to see my teeny tiny change. “I hope you like pink.”
Taeyong grew silent.
I had told Doyoung to change the car paint to hot pink, yet Taeyong didn’t even blink. I expected him to get pissed or, at least, annoyed, but when I looked at his features, I couldn’t see any reaction.
“Actually, pink is my favorite color,” Taeyong emotionlessly announced, and I only stared at him in utter confusion.
What the fuck?
“Well… I expected a different reaction,” I spoke, the wires in my brain incapable of coming up with anything intelligent. A guy with such a foul reputation favors the color pink.
Imagine my shock.
Apparently, Taeyong is a man of many layers.
“Who are you?” Taeyong condescendingly asked as he sat comfortably in the armchair, putting my phone on the armrest. Calmly, he leaned backward, crossed his legs, and entwined his fingers over his bent knee, waiting for me to tell him everything he wanted to know.
“I think you already know who I am,” I stated, and he just stared at me intensely. His people must’ve done a background check on me, yet he still wanted to hear it again. Stealing his car was one thing, but disrespecting him about such trivial matter seemed way worse. Doing something so risky and bold was admirable in his eyes, but wasting his time like this was just annoying, so I simply did what was expected of me.
I told Taeyong about my childhood – how I spent my allowance on go-kart races; it was my escape whenever my father got drunk and picked up fights with my mom. Then, I disclosed my secrets on how I began stealing cars – when I was seventeen, because of excessive drinking, my father needed a liver transplant, and it was the only way of getting money remotely quickly. Later, at the age of twenty-one, I participated in my first street race, though this time, it wasn’t because I needed money – I did it because I enjoyed the thrill.
“How did you steal it? How, on Earth, did you go inside the club without any of my workers noticing you?” Taeyong asked, and although he must’ve already concluded my operating plan, he wanted me to explain it myself. This time around, I didn’t even hesitate.
“I blended in,” I shortly answered with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult to find out all the information I needed to get inside unnoticed. I checked all your staff’s social media accounts; it took me like… three days of stalking to get their names and work schedules. That night, I sneaked into the club right after your arrival, and when somebody asked me something, I told them I was busy doing the thing the manager wanted me to do. They just assumed I am the new girl. Normally, I don’t do things like that when I steal a car, but this time around, I wanted to do something extra. Are you impressed?” I challenged, and Taeyong cocked his eyebrow, deeply in thought.
“Huh, last question. Why have you done it?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I inquired rhetorically, and Taeyong didn’t even bother to give me a proper answer. He seemed bored, and it was making me feel a little bit fed-up. “Well… in all honesty, I am sick and tired of freelancing, I want to work for you,” I elaborated, and Taeyong just chuckled as if I just told him a hilarious joke. Why was he laughing? It was a reasonable proposition, and besides, I’ve already proven my amazing skills.
“I’m not recruiting, sorry,” Taeyong spoke when he stood up and glanced at his pink vehicle. Well… it was a harsh rejection. “You have one day to return my car, or I will have my henchman kill you,” he added, walking up to me until he invaded my personal space.
“Asshole,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear me. Taeyong already knew what I was capable of, yet for some reason, he still decided not to give me a chance. It was a dick move, and I couldn’t let him have the last word.
“You’re feisty. I like that,” Taeyong said at last, “Let’s meet on Friday, at the Superhuman. Midnight. Don’t be late.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, and don’t forget to bring my fucking car.”
***
“She’s here,” Jaehyun told Taeyong as soon as the gatekeeper forwarded the message. “I can’t believe you didn’t kill her back then,” he added matter-of-factly, remembering the infamous car theft. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid to mess with his boss. What puzzled him even more, however, was the fact that Taeyong seemed rather impressed by this woman’s actions.
“I was surprised too,” Taeyong answered honestly. “Can you believe she had the audacity to ask me to recruit her?”
Jaehyun was stupefied. “Well… are you going to?”
“Actually, I am not sure,” Taeyong replied hesitantly. It wasn’t how the regular recruitment process worked, but the woman intrigued him. She had seemed quite keen on working for him, and he was curious how much she wanted this job. “I haven’t decided yet,” Taeyong added, and Jaehyun looked at his boss in concern; Taeyong was impulsive in his decisions, and the fact that he hasn’t made up his mind yet was rather peculiar.
“You can’t be serious,” Jaehyun commented, hoping for Taeyong to come back to his senses. This wasn’t the way the things were dealt with here; if someone dared to mess with the leader, death was the kindest thing they could hope for. If other members found out about it, they might’ve thought Taeyong was getting soft. She disrespected the leader, and she ought to have faced the consequences.
“Bring her in, Jaehyun,” Taeyong ordered, dismissing Jaehyun’s concerns.
“Of course.”
“I expected to meet you in one of the VIP lounges, not in your office,” I spoke the second Taeyong’s henchman led me into an expensive-looking office at the back of the club. “You should’ve given me heads-up, I would’ve dressed accordingly,” I carried on, glancing down at my not suitable clothes.
My outfit consisted of a cropped T-shirt, denim shorts, fishnets, and a pair of combat shoes, and it did not look appropriate under these circumstances. I was expecting a flirty conversation in Taeyong’s natural habitat of leather lounges, expensive drinks, and beautiful girls competing amongst each other for his attention, but instead, he surprised me with a job interview in his private office at the back of his club. If only I had known, I would’ve dressed suitably.
“Leave us alone, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spoke in an authoritarian tone, and his associate left the room without any further comment.
The second I heard the doors click, I let out a breath of relief. For some reason, the henchman’s presence gave me chills. It was difficult to remain composed with Taeyong in such close vicinity, however, when accompanied by the other dangerous man, I felt uncomfortably anxious.
Taeyong’s piercing gaze was fixated on me, and it made me blush a little bit. He was hot as hell, and in all honesty, any woman would react this way if alone with him.
With one fluid motion, he commanded me to sit, and with a sheepish smile on my face, I obliged.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” I started, but Taeyong only smirked, sliding an A4 format envelop across the desk. “What is this?” I asked in confusion, but Taeyong just sat back, entwining his fingers together, enjoying my reaction.
Gang members didn’t sign employment contracts – that’d be silly.
“You admittance,” he started, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to understand what the hell was going on. “Inside the envelope, you’ll find all the necessary information about your new assignment. Bring this car to me within a week, and you’ll be officially the newest addition to the family.”
It was interesting.
Taeyong had already seen me in action, yet he needed another proof of my qualifications. Actions speak louder than words, but my most recent ones screamed and ought to echo in his ears for years!
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a regular procedure, don’t take it personally,” Taeyong added, but I wasn’t exactly buying that. There must’ve been something that he didn’t tell me. There was a catch, it must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have that playful spark in his eyes the whole time.
“I’ll text you the meeting location sometime this week,” he added with a genuine smile, and I didn’t even dare to question how he got my number. “Good luck, doll,” smirking, Taeyong whispered, and I started questioning his intentions.
It must’ve been a set-up.
“I look forward to hearing from you,” I answered respectfully, quickly standing up, wanting to run out of the club. Curiosity was killing me; I had to peek inside the envelope, but I couldn’t do it in front of Taeyong. I hoped he acknowledged me as fearless and confident, and I couldn’t allow him to change his opinion about me. One hesitant glance at the papers could ruin my image, and I couldn’t let it happen.
“Are you out of your mind? You can’t be serious! Tell me you didn’t recruit her,” Jaehyun angrily stormed into Taeyong’s office, fed up with the leader’s decision. The girl left the club alive, and it’s not the outcome he anticipated. Jaehyun would break her neck if only Taeyong told him to. Letting her scot-free was a mistake, and it was crazy that Jaehyun was the only one to realize it.
“Calm down, Jaehyun,” Taeyong announced casually, making Jaehyun a bit confused. “I did give her an assignment, but don’t you worry about it. She’s gonna fail. She’s good, but not that good,” Taeyong added, and both of them smirked mischievously.
***
I’ve never been more anxious. My grip on the envelope was tight, my knuckles turning white, and I really had mixed feelings about opening it. Taeyong’s mischievous smirk couldn’t have been a good omen.
On the other hand, I couldn’t let the stress weaken me, so I did what any other person in my shoes would do – I went to the liquor store and bought the biggest bottle of gin they had. Regardless of what Taeyong had assigned me to do, it would be easier to digest when drunk.
Then I hailed the cab and dialed Doyoung’s number. He picked up after the fourth ring. “I’m coming over,” I quickly said, notifying him before my arrival. As my friend, he would help me if the alcohol was to fail.
“You’re alive, so I assume it didn’t go that bad,” Doyoung spoke when he opened the doors and let me in. Not bothering to greet him, I walked passed him and shoved the bottle of gin into his hands. “Are we celebrating?” He asked, kicking the doors shut, “please, tell me we’re celebrating.”
“I don’t know,” I answered, plopping into an old armchair, throwing the envelope on the coffee table. “We’re about to find out. Taeyong gave me another assignment, but pour me a drink first. I’m not sure I can handle it sober,” I explained, and Doyoung knew what to do. Within a minute, he was back with two Scooby-doo mugs and a bottle of tonic.
“It can’t be that bad,” he started as he sat down on the couch on the other side of the coffee table, pouring us drinks, which were basically 80% alcohol. “I mean… you’ve stolen his car; can it get any more challenging than that?” Doyoung asked, and I actually had to admit he was right. Taeyong’s the most dangerous crime lord in the country; as long as he didn’t make me steal Kim Jongun’s tank, I should be fine. However, on the second thought, I didn’t know Taeyong that well, so the guess might’ve not been that farfetched.
“I don’t want to open this envelope,” I confessed as I picked up the mug with Shaggy’s face and took a large gulp.
“Do you want me to do that for you?” Doyoung proposed, and I nodded. Perhaps if Doyoung read it out for me, it would’ve been easier to accept my fate. “Because you’re all stressed out, I’m all fidgety too,” Doyoung added before he grabbed the envelope, looking inside.
“What does it say?” I inquired in curiosity, hoping to hear some good news.
“It looks like you gotta steal a yellow Ferrari LaFerrari,” Doyoung started, as he pulled out a picture of my target. OK, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, it was doable. “And it belongs to someone called Yuta,” he spoke, and I jumped to my feet and snatched the papers out of Doyoung’s hands in disbelief.
It must’ve been a sick joke.
“It can’t be,” I whispered, refusing to comprehend what Taeyong wanted of me. He was a complete psycho if he thought I could steal one of Yuta’s cars.
“Do you know this dude?” Doyoung inquired, reaching for his cup with Fred.
“Do I know this dude?” I deadpanned, trying not to burst out in tears. I was royally screwed. “It’s Nakamoto Yuta. He’s the royalty of Yakuza. He’s basically Taeyong’s biggest rival,” I explained, and it got Doyoung speechless.
“Well… it sucks,” he whispered, downing his drink, ignoring the burn. “What are you gonna do?”
“Good question,” I replied, coping Doyoung’s actions, drinking my gin to the very last drop. “Even if I manage to steal his car, how am I supposed to get it across the border? It’s a suicide mission.”
“Is there anything else in the envelope?” Doyoung asked, and I put all the papers on the coffee table. Among documents about Yuta’s bio, there was a check for 20 grand written under my name. “Mr. Bad Boy must’ve felt generous,” he commented, but I didn’t find it amusing. Mr. Bad Boy, as Doyoung eloquently put it, would kill me if I failed this mission.
“Generous or not, I’m gonna be dead if I don’t bring this car to him within a week,” I muttered, feeling helpless. I lacked ideas on how to conduct the theft successfully, and the time was slowly running out.
“You can do this,” Doyoung stated confidently, not even a sliver of hesitation in his tone. He was absolutely sure of my skills, and I wished I had as much faith in myself as he had in me. “We have no time to waste; pack everything you need, we’re going to Japan.”
“Do you have a plan, though?”
“We’ll come up with one on our way.”
***
Doyoung was right; we had no time to waste. God, in times like these, I was really thankful he was my friend. Right now, when I was a nervous wreck, he was the voice of reason. If it wasn’t for him, I’d get wasted and pass out in the poodle of my own vomit. Thanks to him, I was only slightly tipsy, but productive as fuck. We made a stop by my apartment and his car repair to get everything necessary, and then took a train to the harbor.
The first ferry to Japan was leaving the docks at 7 o’clock. The journey was about to last more or less 8 hours, it was plenty of time to finish the entire bottle of gin and come up with a foolproof plan on how to steal that Ferrari.
“How about you seduce Yuta, and he lets you borrow his car?” Doyoung voiced his seventh plan this morning, and in comparison to his previous ideas, it actually seemed doable. “It’s great in its simplicity,” he added, and I shook my head in disappointment. Even if I was his type, how was I supposed to bullshit my way into his pants without any Japanese skills?
“How about you seduce Yuta, and when he’s busy drilling your ass, I’ll sneak into his mansion and snatch the car?” I proposed, and Doyoung fake-gagged at the thought of doing this. Or maybe, he just has had one shot of gin too many. One could never be sure…
“How about you seduce Yuta and talk him into doing it in his car, and when you’re about to do it, I knock him out with a rock?”
“How about we go to Yuta’s club, and you challenge him in a singing duel, and you win the car fair and square?”
“How about we find Yuta’s doppelganger to steal his identity and pay him to steal the car for you?”
“How about we kidnap Yuta and keep him hostage until they give us the car?”
“How about we hypnotize Yuta into making him lend us his car?”
Truthfully, we struggled a lot while trying to figure out the best way to prove my worth to Taeyong. Stealing Yuta’s car wasn’t an easy assignment – some people would say it was impossible. Thankfully, we came up with one solution throughout our drunken brainstorm that wasn’t that bad…
We were so drunk that I couldn’t actually remember who came up with this idea. One second, Doyoung and I were brainstorming, then, a moment later, someone woke us up because we reached the shore.
“Come on, we have no time,” Doyoung said as he picked up his bag, urging me to pick up mine and get off the ferry. I rubbed my eyes and looked at him, wondering how, on Earth, he wasn’t hungover. “You’ve got only six days left…”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I answered, groaning.
I had an unpleasant feeling in my gut, telling me this week was going to be awful, but at least we had figured out a plan. It was far from perfection, but with proper execution, I could pull this through.
***
By sheer luck, I managed to accomplish my seemingly impossible mission. Though I didn’t fully believe in the plan, we didn’t make a single mistake, and after three days of data analyzing and one night of the actual heist, we were on our way back.
Hopefully, it was the only recruitment assignment that Taeyong wanted me to fulfill.
On Friday, one hour before the meet-up, Taeyong sent me the location.
In an hour, I’d become one of his people, and I wanted to look worthy of the new position. Wisely, I chose my best outfit, deciding to wear a pair of black leather trousers, a modest white button-down shirt, and fancy boots on a 10 centimeters heel. I looked formal, but with a fierce twist, and I gave off that cutthroat businesswoman vibe. I lived for this outfit. And to top it all, I carefully applied make-up, making sure to highlight all of my features.
I expected to meet with Taeyong in his extravagant mansion, yet he surprised and scared me at the same time with his decision. This gig cost me a lot of stress, and the last thing I wanted was to meet with the most dangerous thug in the country in a deserted meeting point in the city outskirts.
Trying to remain calm, I sighed to shake off all types of negative thoughts. Terrifying scenarios were playing in my head in which Taeyong shot me in the head and dumped my body somewhere in the woods. Taeyong was a dangerous gangster, but I believed he had the honor and would not kill me without any concrete reason.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about his henchmen – this Jaehyun guy in particular. It was obvious the guy hated me and was pissed with Taeyong because of me. I didn’t fancy meeting with him, it would be best if Taeyong and I could talk alone.
Punctually, I arrived at the meeting point. Nonchalantly, I got out of the vehicle, shut the doors close, and leaned against the hood, waiting for Taeyong to appear. The night was warm, yet a little bit windy – it was perfect for the employment celebration.
Taeyong was running a bit late, but I didn’t mind. Besides, he was the most wanted thug in the country; he wasn’t running late – anyone he was meeting with was just too early.
So I waited.
Thankfully, I had plenty of time to psych myself up, so when I heard an engine roar in the distance, I didn’t panic. I was confident enough to face Taeyong and genuinely smile in response to his compliments. This theft was epic, and I expected to hear how impressed he was of me. It was the only reaction I hoped to get.
I was right, it had to be Taeyong. Who else could’ve been in the jet black Audi R8 Spyder registered under “WHIPLASH”?
Having parked right beside me, Taeyong got out of the car, carefully inspecting the Ferrari. His focused eyes were studying the vehicle’s features as if trying to tell it indeed belonged to Yuta. In the meantime, I studied Taeyong’s outfit.
Tonight, he was wearing all black: a pair of high combat shoes, black cargo pants, a see-through shirt, and a leather jacket. The outfit was on point, but when topped with his new haircut – tousled and of powder pink color, Taeyong looked like a model. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that modeling companies contact him every once in a while to recruit him.
“How did you do it?” Taeyong asked, his tone telling me he didn’t believe in my talent. Well… that hurt a little bit, but proving him wrong gave me a lot of pleasure at the same time.
“It wasn’t easy,” I started, not really wanting to spill the beans; especially, when the story wasn’t as impressive as he might’ve thought. “I really wanted this job, so I had to figure out a plan. You know how it is… you gotta discover your enemies’ weaknesses and use them to your advantage.”
“It doesn’t answer my question, doll,” Taeyong remarked, smirking at the nickname he once again used to refer to me. It must’ve really stuck with him. “I gotta be honest with you, I expected you to fail, but you actually did it. I’m impressed,” he added, and I smiled, swiping my hair to the back in a nonchalant manner.
“What can I say? I’m really good at what I do,” I replied, looking into his eyes, trying to remain in the confident pose. “Now, it would be a mistake not to hire me,” I trailed off, making Taeyong smirk again. He was gorgeous, but when that mischievous smirk decorated his face, he was just breath-taking.
With his hands in the pockets, Taeyong took a few nonchalant steps toward me and placed his hands on the hood of the car, leaning in, trapping me between his arms. His stern glace was trying to penetrate my mind, to read me, but I managed to remain calm.
I wanted to work for him, not to hop on his dick, and though the second option seemed rather tempting, I had my priorities set straight.
“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special,” Taeyong whispered in a husky voice, and I looked up into his eyes, swallowing hard. He was indisputably intimidating, but I couldn’t let his charm overtake me. “You seem troublesome, but at the same time, awfully skilled.”
“You bet,” I answered, trying to ignore the fact that Taeyong just pushed his leg between my thighs, inching closer and closer with every second. “Is that how you treat all your employees?” I asked, trying not to lose my cool.
“They’re not employees, they’re family,” Taeyong clarified, and I rolled my eyes, actually expecting his kind of answer from him. “And that would be weird if I treated them this way, wouldn’t it?”
“They wouldn’t be your family, but your orgy if you ask me,” I spoke matter-of-factly, waiting for his reaction since I doubted anyone was this frank with him.
“Why do I have a feeling you’re gonna be a huge pain in the ass?” Taeyong asked, hopefully not expecting an answer. “Quite talented one,” he added, dropping his head down to my neck, placing a delicate peck against my sensitive skin.
“But hey, it’s what keeps everything fresh and exciting,” I offered, suggesting looking on the bright side of these circumstances. “So… speaking of my recruitment…” I mentioned, internally wishing for Taeyong to keep his hands to himself. I was trying to be professional, and it was incredibly difficult with the boss, basically making out with my neck.
“One more test and you’re officially a new addition to the family,” Taeyong said sternly, finally pulling out. “You said you race, I want to see you in action,” he added, and I bit my bottom lip due to stress. Seriously? Another test? He got to be kidding me. “Don’t worry; it’s a formality at this point.”
Honestly, his words didn’t cheer me up at all. I had stolen his car, and then I had been to Japan to steal his rival’s car. And now, he wanted me to pass another test. Come on!
“All you gotta do is to give me a lift back to my mansion,” Taeyong announced, somewhat excited to see my driving performance. “The route takes up to 20 minutes, so I’m gonna give you ten. It sounds fair, doesn’t it?”
“What about your car? I wouldn’t leave it here if I were you,” I remarked, trying to make out a logical answer. I wouldn’t leave my bike here, let alone a sports car, knowing how much crime was going on in this particular part of the city.
“Normally, I’d not, but you see… I caught a flat tire,” Taeyong explained, and I cocked my eyebrow, trying to see which tire was pierced. I didn’t notice any damage, but then, Taeyong pulled out his gun, shooting through the left back tire, making his point. “It was an exceptionally unfortunate accident,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at him.
He was a mad man.
“OK, fine, get in, loser,” I said, inviting him inside the car. Having sat comfortably and fastened our seatbelts, Taeyong put the location into the GPS. “Are you gonna time me?”
“Of course,” Taeyong answered, extending his arm, staring at his expensive wristwatch. “You have ten minutes, starting… now.”
Carefully, I chose one of my playlists before driving off.
It was a wild ride. I was driving twice as fast as the road signs were telling me to while singing my heart out to Backstreet Boys’ biggest hits “Everybody” and “I Want It That Way”. At this point, Taeyong was probably questioning whether it was safe to get in the car with me, or not. Though I encouraged him to join me in this carpool karaoke, yet he decided not to.
The navigation system was giving me weird directions, trying to lead me into congestion. Listening to my driver’s instinct, I sped through some self-discovered shortcuts. Judging my Taeyong’s expression, he had no idea what I was doing.
In the middle of “I Want It That Way”, I had to speed up even more. Each song is about four minutes long, so I still had about three minutes left to make it to the mansion, and though I seemed rather calm, I was out of my mind.
I’ve gone too far to lose right now. I couldn’t let this short race end up my flourishing career. I had stolen two cars within two weeks, and both vehicles belonged to the most dangerous men in their countries. I couldn’t lose now.
Breaking probably all traffic laws, I managed to reach Taeyong’s mansion before the boys got to finish the last chorus.
“You’re a triple threat, doll,” Taeyong said, and I wondered what the third admirable thing about me was. Undoubtedly, he was impressed with my theft and racing skills, yet I didn’t have a clue what was the third factor. “You’re officially one of us,” he added, and I smiled widely, ecstatic to finally hear his words of approval.
After so much testing, I finally proved my worth to him, and he took me under his wings.
Having pulled out his phone, Taeyong gave me a few instructions. “From this moment onward, Lucas is your direct superior, you gotta report everything back to him; I texted you the address. Be there first thing in the morning. Better be on time, Lucas doesn’t like it when people are late.”
“Thank you, Taeyong.”
“Don’t thank me, doll,” Taeyong replied, opening the doors, ready to exit the vehicle. “You have no idea what you’ve got yourself into.”
“I’ve got one more question…” I hollered, and Taeyong sat back in the passenger seat, waiting for my final inquiry. “What am I supposed to do with this car?” I asked, and Taeyong shrugged nonchalantly, suggesting it was not his problem.
“Get rid of it, obviously,” Taeyong answered, confirming my suspicions. “It belongs to Yuta, and the last thing I want is him realizing that I have it. Burn it down, dump it in the lake, I don’t care, just make sure it’s not gonna be found.”
“Great,” I whispered, losing enthusiasm with each voiced letter. It was problematic to bring it here, yet disposing of it was going to be even worse.
“Don’t lose your spirit, doll,” Taeyong added, leaning down towards me. With his right hand, he raised my chin and pressed a delicate peck against the skin of my cheek. “Good luck, make your daddy proud,” he whispered before exiting the car, shutting the doors close.
Though Taeyong was long gone, I was sitting in the vehicle, not leaving the driveway. What the hell just happened? Not only was he using this stupid nickname, but then he dropped that daddy bomb. I was not prepared for this.
#taeyong smut#nct smut#neosmutcollective#taeyong angst#nct angst#taeyong#nct#nct 127#nct u#mafia taeyong#crime lord taeyong#lee taeyong#taeyong fanfiction#taeyong fanfic#taeyong story#mafia!taeyong#action#comedy
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foxes + onesies (5/9)
based off of that one post i saw and don’t remember, where people once caught Allison wandering around Fox Tower in a giraffe onesie, and i absolutely melted for her. here is the Foxes’ journey to getting a onesie each!
Nicky
almost immediately after Dan, Nicky gets his own onesie
like, two days after
and, as he finds out later from Dan, he ordered his first
it just got a little lost in the mail (that’s just Nicky’s luck)
the thing is, he’s completely jealous of the upperclassmen
not just a little; a lot
and not because he feels excluded (he does), nor because he wants to be belong (he does) or even because he misses those happy moments of childhood when everything was still easy (he achingly does)
no no
he’s jealous because he wants to steal their onesies and wear them all
he’s jealous because he just really, really wants a soft and silly onesie to wear
that’s it
it’s not a childhood memory (he never had one)
it’s not a self-care tip (he doesn’t think he needs self care lessons, thank you very much, he’s a very mature adult with 2 angry teenagers under his very adequate care, you know)
it’s not a grand gesture for love-
but perhaps…? oh yeah get this:
Nicky is always planning for the future
ever since Erik, ever since the twins, he makes plans upon plans upon plans
it’s not that he’s anxious about the future (a little bit, still, given everything that he went through)
making plans for the future is his way of looking forward to it, of not losing hope, of staying strong in the present
he’s got a lot of dreams
getting tattoos…
getting a tattoo with Erik…
or many tattoos with Erik, for that matter…
owning a blue or green vintage Westfalia…
doing a roadtrip across Europe… (with Erik, duh)
volunteering for humanitarian work in any country…
owning a ranch with lots of horses…
or at least having one horse of his own…
marrying Erik…
and don’t get him started on his plans for the very far future, when he’s sixty-seventy, in his shabby German cottage with Erik, his only neighbors being Andrew and Aaron…
Nicky is hopeful
Nicky is optimist
Nicky is excited for what he future might bring, despite the adversities that knocked him down times and times again
you have to give him that
which is why he starts planning for an event that is closer than he thinks:
Berlin Pride Ceremony, also known as Christopher Street Day
Nicky’s never been to Pride
not even in his time in Stuttgart, and certainly not here in the US
so when he graduates, and the twins are legally independent from his guardianship, you can bet your sweet ass that Nicky is flying back to Erik in time for Pride Month, and that he will be shaking his sweet ass in the streets of Berlin to celebrate his love
thus, he needs an outfit
he and Erik need an outfit
now, what screams “I’m gay”, “I’m proud” and “I love horses” ?
rainbow unicorn onesie
lemme say that again
rainbow. unicorn. motherf***ing. onesie.
that’s right baby
but once Nicky’s got a vision, a plan, he’s very picky about it
sure, once he’s in the moment, he lets loose and has fun and enjoys
but leading to it? very difficult
he searches every shopping center in the Palmetto area
he searches every shopping center in the Columbia area
none of the unicorn onesies satisfy him
so he resorts to online shopping
which he hates
online shopping, to him, lacks the true experience that is walking for hours, raiding stores and the food court…
a few Google searches, a couple of clicks, and his onesie is ordered
it’s… it’s very gay
as in, very bright and lively
the faux-fur is made of pastels of all the colors of the rainbow
the mane is hot pink and almost feather-like
there’s cute little ears, two cute little eyes, and a freaking yellow horn on the hood
it’s as if the Gay Pride flag had had a baby with Pegasus or Spirit the stallion of the Cimarron
it’s beautiful
Nicky’s already picturing himself with rainbow flag temporary tattoos on each of his cheeks, a rainbow bandana, his sweaty hand in Erik’s sweaty hand, singing Rain On Me and Born This Way and Single Ladies all day long amongst a safe and proud crowd
he can’t wait
he’s so excited
he’s also nervous to see Erik’s reaction when he receives his surprise gift
deep down, he knows he’ll love it, but he’s just a little scared still
and so Nicky waits
and waits
and waits
and waits
then he hears about Dan’s little stunt for Valentine’s Day
and he gets envious, because 1) she got to celebrate with Matt while Erik is an ocean away and 2) she got her onesie first, when he knows for a fact that he ordered before her from the same website
and then he hears about a special movie night the girls had where they all lounged in their onesies watching Hunger Games and the Avengers
Nicky’s getting very jealous
but finally, finally, when March rounds the corner, Nicky gets a package
he also gets an unscheduled Skype call from Erik at 4 AM (US time)
the screen just opens on Erik, in his onesie, jumping on his mini indoor trampoline
Erik doesn’t speak, he just keeps on bouncing
Nicky screams and wakes up the whole dorm
Andrew kicks down the door (literally, it breaks and falls down its hinges), Kevin can be heard yelling “WHAT THE FUCK” from his bed and Neil’s got one of Andrew’s knife
and the crash of the door wakes up Aaron and the upperclassmen in the other dorm rooms
the night ends (or the morning begins?) with all the Foxes cramped in Nicky’s room, watching Erik wordlessly bounce in his rainbow unicorn pajama and Nicky yelling “THAT’S MY MAN BITCHES”
needless to say, Nicky is quite happy with himself, and so is Erik
Nicky gets invited to the special movie night with the girls, on the promise to never wake them up at ass-o’clock ever again, even if he’s being murdered
oh, and somehow his pillow mysteriously gets stabbed and stuffed out…
#i'm reposting these so each Fox has their own post bc I've been losing visibility with the reblogs#part 5 of 9!#i gotta say that nicky wasn't my favorite character but i quite enjoyed writing this for him#and yes nicky is a horse girl#foxes + onesies#aftg#nicky hemmick#erik klose#nicky x erik#all for the game#tfc#trk#tkm#the foxhole court#the raven king#the king's men#aftg series#nora sakavic#dan wilds#matt boyd#danmatt#dan x matt#allison reynolds#renee walker#renison#neil josten#andrew minyard#kandreil#kevin day x aaron minyard#aaron minyard
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The Head and the Heart, Part 1
Hello everyone,
I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.
This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...
Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart
Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.
Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires
WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.
Word Count: 2770
Part One: Faced with Foolishness
“Well, you know Tessa, she’s being Tessa,” Antha murmured into her phone as she watched her twin sister cozy up to her flavor of the month; Tessa flipped her box braids off her shoulder, the beaded ends flirtatiously tinkling against every surface they met. As if watching a photo negative version of herself, Antha mourned her nonexistent reputation. Had she not spent years hiding in her books she may have been able to rival her uninhibited doppelganger in white hot-pants.
“Why do you let her do this to you? It never goes as planned, and next thing you know I’ll be cleaning you two up and feeding you McDonald’s at two thirty in the morning!” She didn’t need facetime to picture Doug wincing through the phone, pushing his Buddy Holly styled Ray-Bans up the bridge of his nose.
“So what you’re saying is how could I let Tessa do this to you?” She laughed, rolling her Havana twists through her fingers to fight off the June humidity. Talking to her best friend helped her forget just how long she had been holding it in line to the bathroom.
“Ant, look I don’t like that bar—you want me to come get you?”
“And leave her? I can’t do that—listen, if we don’t call you for a ride home by midnight just come get us. I’m exhausted and I don’t think she will party that long. Besides, you-know-who just showed up.” She watched as Franco the Flake appeared, wasting no time to linger over her sister—Tessa’s flavor of the month, forgotten within an instant. Antha’s eyes rolled like marbles as she turned away to better hear her friend on the phone; some fraternity boys nearby began fist-pumping into the air as the bartender served up a line of shots for them.
“Ugh, the Flake… well I can hear things are getting started on your end—I’ll keep my phone on me, just don’t drive. Leave her car and I’ll get you two—there’s maniacs out there especially on Friday night.” He warned.
“I owe you,” she groaned and hung up. Antha finally arrived in the ladies’ room, only two women away from her sweet release. She watched as the women cornered the mirror like crazed wanton things, bending and zhuzhing, adjusting their “girls” to their perkiest potential through scantily low apparel.
“Heeeyy…” She quietly greeted the woman that exited the nearest stall. The stranger gave her a haughty elevator eye from head to toe making her feel severely underdressed for a Friday night out. When she threw on a sun dress today, she never anticipated her sister would abduct her after class and have them gallivanting across town. Tessa’s exact words were “Godamnit Ant, tonight we’re gonna have fun if it kills us!” A Cheshire Cat grin spread across her face as she floored the accelerator of her Neon, then cranked up the bass as the radio station started their basement remixes. Fun if it kills us.
Antha stared at her white sandals, her nail polish was chipped and at least three weeks old. Then she looked to her messenger bag hanging on the back of the door. It was covered in Community College film badges and club stickers, per her friend’s preferences. Antha liked her graffitied messenger bag. Like a billboard, it made her appear she had a life outside of her graduate studies.
She should have been at home, text books spread on her lap, feet up. She could hear Doug’s old Buick coughing its way up Momma’s drive, then fumbling outside the door, trying to knock with a third of Popov, case of Dogfish Head, and pizza in his arms. Then he would throw everything on the coffee table and announce “I brought Casablanca!” to which she would say “Oh, more white people movies?” and unphased, he would reply “Good god woman, it’s not Birth of a Nation!” Antha smiled, thinking of their weekly ritual of pretending to do research while gossiping long into the night until Zoey and Tessa would drunkenly Uber home. The distinct shamble, like the walking dead, would scrape up the gravel drive signaling their arrival.
“Hey, you almost done in there?” An annoyed voice yelled over the door, cutting through her reminiscing. Antha could see the reds of the stranger’s eyes between the door crack.
Instead of lounging on the couch surrounded by good beer and even better friends, Antha found herself being hustled by some Fireball-turned-up twat—all under the guise of having fun. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She replied and flushed. She tightened the belt holding in the billowy fabric of her flowy, mid-thigh, sunflower-printed sundress. It was passed down from her grandmother to her mother and so on. Looking like she walked off the set of a 90’s music video, she admitted that at least she was cooler than the other girls sweating in their skin-tight jeans and heels.
Some pretty young thing burst through the door past the line and vomited into the trash bin next to Antha while she washed her hands. It was only nine o’clock. That was a bad omen. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she realized she pouted just like Momma in those sorts of situations. She dampened a paper towel for the poor thing and could hear her mother’s words repeating in her head: “When you’re faced with foolishness—you take care of it.” Her mantra: Take care of it. Antha’s mantra: Do what Momma says. Tessa’s mantra: If it ain’t fun don’t do it.
Antha applied her vanilla lip gloss as she thought on her mother. She made a promise as Momma was lowered in the ground that they would graduate. It was her dying wish that the twins became modern women with college degrees and to have options; to escape the laboring of farming and perhaps even the rinse and repeat of corporate Delaware. That’s all there was in their state: Farming or banking.
She tucked her shoulder-length braids behind her ears; she truly missed her dreadlocks, but ever since the time Tessa’s boyfriend mistook her for his girlfriend, she cut them off. She was always the one to compromise. Not tonight she decided. Tonight was going to go her way. They would wrap up this foolishness by midnight.
Antha sighed and knew it was time to face the havoc of the bar when a chatty patron pawed at her sundress asking if it was “vintage”. She replied, “Well it’s old as hell if that’s what you mean,” and hurried out the ladies’ room into the sweltering cacophony of nightlife.
Fighting across sticky tile and sweaty rednecks she made a beeline for the bartender. “Mar, can I get two?” She bounced on her tip-toes to cut through the crowd huddled around the length of the tacky wooden bar. Maria motioned to the other side because she couldn’t reach through. Antha continued to fight her way through the herd. She could barely hear over the din of the 2016 campaign commercials and sportscasting when Maria slid two cocktails toward her. The southern comfort and coke cocktails reeked with vanilla syrup, Tessa’s favorite. Antha stared into the melting rail drinks and realized she didn’t know what to order herself because she was always the water-boy for her twin.
“Hey, did you see what’s-his-face is in town?” Maria interrupted her thoughts.
“Sure did.” She groused and tilted her head in the general direction of where she saw Tessa and Franco last. Through the bodies, for a moment, the crowd parted and the two stared.
Stepping back from her esteemed role as the older sister, by barely two minutes, Antha admitted to herself that Tessa always looked good. Her off-the-shoulder top exposed a flawless ebony collarbone, shoulder blades, and arms. As if she was the Queen of Sheba incarnate, her tiny wrists were decorated with gold bangles. Her earrings matched the beads in her hair, reflecting light in her hazel eyes. A waterfall of thick box braids fell down her back and over her shoulders, past the tops of her thighs. Her years of dance complimented the country-chic white cut-offs that revealed just a hint of under cheek when she bent across the billiard table.
“If I were a man, I’d pray for her to bite my head off quick and painless.” Maria laughed, her ponytail frizzing from the heat of her work; her hands rapidly dipping then shining high ball glasses.
“But that’s not her style.” Antha replied wryly.
“You’re both good girls. Now you keep her out of as much trouble as you can—I’ll send Kyle ‘round to your table with beers, just let me catch up here!”
Maria was right: they were good girls. All of Tessa’s shenanigans aside, she never forgot cake for a birthday and with everyone’s break-ups she always had a bottle of Jack stashed with a shoulder to cry on. Tessa was the one that painted Antha’s nails and always lent her the best outfits when the event called for it. On occasion she was even known to deliver soup when her sister ran a fever.
Tessa was the heart of the operation and Antha couldn’t begrudge her just because she was the head.
For better or worse, they were sisters.
Antha reluctantly clutched the chilled drinks and felt a pang of relief in the sweltering bar. She couldn’t see her sister at the billiard table with the onslaught of shuffling patrons, so she decided to move toward her booth. She narrowly missed being covered in appletini as the DJ scratched in one more summer top ten into his rotation. Before she could move forward a voice pinned her in place.
“Your sister’s the worst, you know that?” A nice-looking guy glared at her. His teeth gleamed pink in the red bar lights. Antha bet he had a handsome smile on account of those white teeth, but he was not smiling now. She squinted through the hazy dance floor and recognized him as the guy Tessa arrived with before Franco appeared.
“Hey John, don’t fret, Tessa’s just catching up with an old friend—he comes into town every so often, don’t get upset.” She yelled back at his face as kindly as she could manage over the blare of the oncoming band tuning their instruments. For some reason he didn’t seem to believe her and his chest instinctively puffed up.
“John? I’m José!” He replied. Antha felt embarrassed for both her sister and herself. She grimaced unintentionally, realizing she had said it all with very few words.
She tried to defend their position with a weak excuse. “José, I’m bad with names and faces—” but he stormed off before she could piecemeal a string of bullshit. There goes another Mr. Last Month.
This was having fun. Antha doing damage control on last month’s flame, while Tessa stoked a new one. All of the nice memories of her sister evaporated in the heat of the interaction. She grumbled to herself, as she had grown tired of babysitting, not just Tessa but the men-children she dated. When she finally confirmed her party’s booth, she parted the shadowy sea of basic bitches.
Tessa was giggling like a school girl when her sister dropped the sweaty glasses onto the ratty old table. Franco at her neck like a leech. I hate this guy, Antha thought to herself. He turned his hot gaze on her, “Hi Antha, didn’t see you there.” His drawl was thick like humidity. She thought about giving her drink to Tessa’s date, but now that she could see he was it, she plopped down and selfishly sipped one of the nasty cocktails without offering the second.
“Oh hey Brian,” she said playfully, “where’s your camera?”
“Ant, now you know this is Franco, stop playin’!” Tessa tore her eyes away from him for a split second, but after she threw her daggers she was back ogling him like a dog does a bone.
“Sorry, it’s hard to keep all these blue-eyed, blond, gentlemen straight.” Antha marginally resisted saying yokel under her breath.
Tessa had a type. Beyond all logic, light eyes were the buckle in her knee, the hitch in her breath; and Franco was at the top of her list. Antha assumed he was the Porsche in her garage amongst a long list of Ford’s, but she honestly didn’t know the whole story. All she knew was that Franco showed his face sparingly and only after dark. He would disappear for weeks at a time, which earned him the endearment The Flake.
Now, Antha hadn’t dated enough men in her young life to sort them by color and size, but Tessa had. To her credit, her tastes were diverse, she did her research and knew what she liked. No one blamed her either. With that hair and those legs, Tessa could have anyone she wanted. The great appeal of Franco didn’t add up to Antha though. She found him suspicious. She thought his truck was too loud, his jeans too torn, and his eyes much too heavy.
Franco made idle conversation, inquiring after the twins’ classes as if he cared. His blond, three-quarter parted hair was glossy under the dim lights. When he pulled his tooth pick from the back of his ear and chewed on it, it made him look like an old-fashioned mobster—well until that Delmar twang spilled out of his hillbilly mouth. There was an allure about him; all of his parts matched, but his smile unglued those pieces. A smile that never quite reached his eyes.
Antha found herself sizing him up, drinking the disgusting cocktail faster than she wanted. I bet he has plastic zip ties and rope in his truck bed, she thought. She didn’t truly know why the image popped into her mind, it was just a feeling she got when his eyes were on her; made her feel like a snack, as if he would eat her alive right where she sat. No more Unsolved Mysteries for me this week, she insisted to herself.
“Mmmm-hmmm.” Was the best response she could offer when he spoke to her directly. Tessa continued chatted about her business management courses as he deeply stared at her. Antha figured there was no real room for her in the conversation so she took out her world cultures text and flipped to her last page. She liked hanging out, however her final thesis was demanding all of her energy. The page fell open to vampires in the section of Egyptian mythology. She thought how ironic as her eyes shot up at the man sitting across from her.
“So, there’s this bonfire by Slaughter Bay, I thought you ladies could come with.” Franco suggested lazily like it was too exclusive to be excited about. “You can shotgun babe and we can put Antha and her friends in back.” He eyed the textbooks growing damp on the table. Antha finished the first SoCo and started the second just to cope with him. “You could call up the girls.”
“Zoey… Zoey... Zoey!” Tessa dramatically said into her drink and then laughed. Antha couldn’t help but smirk as Tessa explained to him her girlfriend was like Candyman and could be summoned via a pint of beer. The joke was partially lost on Franco.
Before Tessa could agree to go Antha piped up, a little less shy now that her liquid courage had kicked in. “Sounds awfully romantic, but we can’t.” Before she could continue she was interrupted.
“Hey girl haaayyyy!” Zoey appeared as if out of thin air and snatched one of the beers sent over by the bartender. “You goin’ nowhere without me—not after I Ubered across town!” Her two rando friends hollering and sloshing their drinks.
“How the hell do you do that?” Antha insisted, amazed that their friend appeared.
“Uhhhh, never you mind—we can make bonfire plans later—its ten o’clock, I’m here and Bieber is playing! GET UP!” Zoey declared, the glitter from her eyes dusting every surface.
“Keep an eye on my friends.” Antha told Franco as she abandoned her books to be dragged to the floor. This was the moment she decided she was getting them all out of there; she didn’t like the sound of a bonfire with him and she certainly wasn’t allowing Tessa to go on her own either. She sent a pre-written text message to Doug: “Get here.” Which was their code for its really going down, I need back up.
Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @plastic-heart @myraiswack @wolfpawn
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The Devil You Know
Narco!Javier Peña x Reader AU
Part 1 - The Stranger
Author’s Note: So I’ve had this idea for a small series in my head for a while now and my friends have helped encourage me to post it, so here we are! I hope you guys enjoy, and thank you to my friends who showered me with kind words and encouragment! (You know who you are and i love you)
All spanish translations are located at the bottom of the post. I also do not speak Spanish, I used spanishdict.com to translate for me so I hope they are accurate.
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: mentions of alcohol and guns.
Summary: You had been waiting for a break - that one case in the DEA that would give you a chance to really make a difference. So, when you are tasked with taking down a large but highly secretive and underground drug cartel, you jump on it - despite lacking the information on who runs the operation. Then...you meet a stranger in a bar.
Next Part | Masterlist
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You can’t help the excited smile that creeps onto your face as you leave the Ambassadors office and return to the two conjoined desks you and your partner shared. Ambassador Noonan had just informed you that you and Steve were to lead the team tasked with taking down a local but growing drug cartel located right here in Bogotá. The Los Carnales Cartel had started out small and then boomed, becoming one of the fastest-growing drug cartels in the country. The only problem was that they seemed to have come out of the woodworks, and they were experts at keeping their operations underground. The DEA had little to no information on any of the key players except for a few sicarios on the bottom.
But it was a start.
The start you had been waiting for since you had been transferred to Colombia almost six months ago. Soon after you had arrived your partner, Steve Murphy, had landed as well, and you had almost immediately bonded. You both worked together seamlessly through the various small drug busts you were assigned, but you had both been yearning for something more – something bigger. And it had finally happened.
You plopped down in your seat and looked expectantly at Steve who only gave you a sparing glance and gestured to the phone held between his ear and shoulder. You rolled your eyes and pulled the phone from his grip dropping it onto the receiver.
“What the hell-“ he spluttered, surprised by your sudden theft of his phone, “That was an important call!” he huffed.
“Oh hush,” you tutted, “I have news that is more important than any phone call you’ll ever receive,” you say happily, clasping your hands together and resting your chin atop them.
Steve sighed, running a hand down his face, “And what news would that be?”
“Ambassador Noonan wants us to lead the task force to take down Los Carnales!” you exclaim, tossing one of the two folders on your desk to your partner.
His eyes widen and he rips the folder open skimming through the files, “You’re serious?” he asks breathlessly, looking at you with caution.
You nod enthusiastically, “Yes! We start tomorrow, the Ambassador wants us to read over the files tonight and come in tomorrow ready to take these bastards down,” you say triumphantly.
Steve lets out a soft laugh and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, “I knew we would get something like this sooner or later.”
You just smiled and nodded, “I’m just glad it finally happened,” you begin, “I know we were doing important work already, but I wanted to get to the root of the problem, really make a difference, you know?” you say wistfully, taking the file and tucking it away in your purse before standing.
Steve furrows his brows, “Where are you off too in a hurry?”
You tap your watch, “Day’s over Murphy,” you say, “And I have a date with destiny,” you joke gesturing to the file in your bag, “Well, and a glass of whiskey to celebrate.”
Your partner just laughs and stands with you as you grab your gun from your desk drawer and tuck it into the holster on your side before slipping your jacket on. Steve bids you goodbye and you do the same before walking to your car to head home.
-----
You hadn’t spent long in your apartment, only enough time to read through the files the Ambassador had given you and for the disappointment to slowly build within your mind. You had read through the files almost three times, only to be disheartened by how little was actually there. You knew you didn’t have a lot of information about the cartel, but to actually see how little you had? It was disheartening. You only had two names for sure, and they were a low-level Sicario and a local drug runner who had been seen frequenting local bars and clubs.
You suppose you had to start somewhere.
You let out an exasperated sigh and closed the file before glancing at your watch. Eight o’clock wasn’t too late to go get a drink right? Plus, it was a night to celebrate – at least that’s what you told yourself as you grabbed your purse from the counter and walked out of your apartment and onto the streets of Bogotá. You and Steve had frequented a bar just down the street from your apartment, usually just stopping in for a drink after work or meeting Steve’s wife Connie there for just a night to catch up and not think about work. So you knew the path to the small hole in the wall dive and you were there within ten minutes. You walked towards the door and saw Carlos, a local kid who was always outside the bar selling that days newspaper and the fruits his family grew. You saw him starting to pack up for the night and called out to get his attention.
¡Oye, Carlos! Espera un momento!” you called, smiling as the boy startled slightly before realizing it was you and waving excitedly.
“Hola señorita (y/n), ¿cómo estás?” the small boy asks, ginning at you widely.
You chuckle, “Lo estoy haciendo bien Carlos, espero que lo estés haciendo bien. ¿Es demasiado tarde para comprar un periódico?”
The young boy just shakes his head and pulls the local newspaper from his bag handing it to you. You take it from him and thank him before paying him, slipping in a bit extra. The boy just smiles up at you and you just put a finger of your lips and wink.
“Muchas gracias señorita!”
You give him a smile as you step by him to enter the bar but turn back to him as he gets onto his bicycle, “No hay problema Carlos, ten cuidado” you said and waved him off before finally entering the building.
The bartender gave you a small wave as you walked in, already pouring you a glass of whiskey and setting it in front of you as sat down at the bar. You gave him a small smile and a thank you before settling into your seat and laying the newspaper on the bartop in front of you. You took the glass of dark amber liquid in your hand and took a small sip, relishing in the familiar burn as you swallowed before setting the glass down again. You casually cast a glance around the small bar, a habit you had picked up since becoming an agent - always be aware of your surroundings.
For the most part, it was the usual crows of regulars, but the one thing that did catch your eye was the small group of men sitting at the table in the corner. You had built rapport with the people in this small part of town, and you knew a lot of them by name, their routines never changing. But as you sat here now, eyes glancing over the small troop, you realized they all looked unfamiliar. And the one thing that stuck out to you most were the guns on their hips.
You weren’t an idiot, you knew there were more gangs, cartels, and drug lords here than anywhere you had worked before, so guns weren’t unusual - but it still made your anxiety spike slightly. Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you turned your eyes back to the newspaper in front of you, trying to see if there was any news that may be relevant to your job, and continued to nurse your drink. You had barely gotten halfway down the front page when you felt a presence fill the seat to your left. Without moving your head you cast a short glance to see a man with dark hair in a dark rust-colored shirt flagging the bartender down. You turned your eyes back to the paper in front of you, trying to focus on that, until the man next to you spoke up.
“What are you having?” his deep baritone reached your ears and caused you to tear your eyes from the paper and look at him fully.
The first thing that crossed your mind was that he was handsome - dark hair, dark eyes, a mustache that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but seemed to suit him well, and a charming smile. However, this initial observation was followed quickly by annoyance that you couldn’t just drink and read in peace.
When you didn’t answer right away, the man gestured to your empty glass, “Your drink,” he clarified, as if you didn’t understand.
You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes and instead turned to look back at your newspaper, “I heard you,” you bite, “I’m not interested.”
The man lets out a low chuckle and you try to ignore the feeling it ignited within your chest, “I didn’t ask if you out-” he says, a glint in his eye, “I asked what you were drinking.”
You sigh, eyes still not leaving the newspaper, “Whiskey,” you mutter, “Why are you so intrigued by my drink choice?”
The man doesn’t answer, he only hums quietly before letting out a short whistle, waving the bartender over, “¿puedo conseguir dos whiskys? uno para mí y otro para la dama,” the man says gesturing to you at the end of his sentence.
You let out a huff and finally tear your eyes from the newspaper to rest on the man to your left, “what part of ‘not interested’ did you not understand?”
All the man does is smirk at you, “You know Spanish?” he asks teasingly.
You don’t fight the urge to roll your eyes this time, “yes, I know how to know Spanish. It would be pretty hard to get around without it.”
The man just chuckles, his eyes falling from you to the bartender as he sets your drinks down. The man just offers him a wave before sliding your drink to you. You look at it cautiously, not moving to take the drink and instead stare at him as he takes a small sip from his before setting it back down.
“Listen, I’m not here to kidnap you or whatever it is you think I’m here to do,” he begins, a slight genuineness behind his words as he continues, “Just want to make conversation.”
You scoff, “I highly doubt that.”
“I’ll prove it too you,” he says as if offering you a deal, “What brings you here?” he begins tentatively.
You purse your lips, still unsure of whether or not you wanted anything to do with the handsome stranger before finally letting out a small sigh, hand moving to wrap around the glass of alcohol. At least you get a free drink out of it.
“I got a...promotion at work,” you say slowly, not telling the whole truth, “so I’m out celebrating.”
The man hums again before giving you a smile and rasing his glass, “felicitaciones en su promoción!”
You let out a small chuckle and tap your glass to his before taking a large sip, “gracias,” you say softly.
A smirk creeps onto the mans face, “you should speak Spanish more...it suits you..” he trails off waiting for you to fill in with your name.
You can’t help the blush that blooms on your cheeks and you clear your throat slightly, “u-uh yeah, thanks I guess,” you mutter lowly before sticking your hand out to him, “my name’s (y/n).”
He smiles and shakes your hand before withdrawing and taking another sip from his drink, his eyes trailing up and down your figure. You swallow thickly and shift in your seat before speaking up once more, “Do I get the pleasure of knowing the name of the guy who’s paying for my drink?” you ask, watching as he turns the glass on the counter slowly before opening his mouth to respond.
-------
Javier Peña had built a name for himself here in Bogotá.
He hadn’t come from much, his parents born in Colombia but then moving to the states for a ‘better life’. Something that fell through the cracks while Javier was in grade school. They moved back to Colombia shortly after and Javier had learned very quickly that in order to survive, you had to fight. So that’s what he did. Over the years he was in and out with the wrong people until eventually, he was a force to be reckoned with.
The leader of the Los Carnales Cartel.
He was smart. He was clever. And most of all, he was willing to do anything to get what he wanted - and anyone who knew him knew that and didn’t get in his way. That’s how he managed to stay afloat for so long. He kept his operation under wraps, only a select few people he trusted knew anything about the operations of his drug business. He took pride in the fact that he has been operating unobstructed for almost two years now, evading even the DEA.
Until tonight.
He, of course, didn’t know that the DEA had their sights on his cartel - hell - he didn’t even know that they knew he existed. But as he and a few of his sicarios sat in a local bar, one he had only been too once, many years earlier, he saw you. He had clocked you the minute you approached the bar, watched as you bantered lightly with the boy selling newspapers, and listened as you bid him farewell before taking a seat at the far end of the bar, newspaper in hand, and badge on your belt.
Wait - badge?
One of the reasons Javier was good at his job, is he was always aware of his surroundings - observant of those around him that may be a threat or cause problems. So when he says the golden metal gleam in the low light of the bar and caught the sleek black metal of a pistol on your belt, his interest was peaked. You weren’t a cop, at least not a local one. You spoke English too well, you sounded American, and most of all you were wearing a suit.
He looked to his comrades and told them he would be back before stalking across the bar and sliding into the seat next to you, amused at your refusal to look at him. He finally got you talking, and eventually even got you to reveal your name, taking this moment of vulnerability on your part to get a closer look at you. His eyes roamed from head to toe until they landed on the badge once more, just barely able to make out the letters on the golden metal peeking from beneath your blazer.
Drug Enforcement Agency - Special Agent.
You ask his name and he smiles, a triumphant gleam in his eye as he realizes the opportunity presented before him. A DEA agent who has no clue who he is, and has already let her guard down. He lets out a low chuckle, eyes on his half-full glass as he turns in slowly on the bar top, before looking back at the woman across from him and opens his mouth to respond,
“Javier Peña.”
----
¡Oye, Carlos! Espera un momento! - Hey Carlos, wait a minute!
Hola señorita (y/n), ¿cómo estás? - Hello miss (y/n), how are you?
Lo estoy haciendo bien Carlos, espero que lo estés haciendo bien. ¿Es demasiado tarde para comprar un periódico?” - I’m doing good Carlos, I hope you are doing good. Is it too late to buy a news paper?
“Muchas gracias señorita!” - Thank you very much miss!
“No hay problema Carlos, ten cuidado” - No problem Carlos, be careful.
¿puedo conseguir dos whiskys? uno para mí y otro para la dama - Can I get two whiskey’s? One for me and one for the lady.
felicitaciones en su promoción! - Congratulations on your promotion!
////
Permanent Taglist: @lord-wolfgen @petalduck @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @stillreadingfantasy @pedrosdoll @simonsbluee @justlovetoreadfics @discogrrl @maryan028 @asaucecoveredsomething @hiscyarika @theforceofdisney @hail-doodles @murdermewithbooks
Pedro Tag: @fleurdemiel145 @lustriix @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @longitud-de-onda @jellyfishpoptart @ah-callie @mutantsandproud @pascalisthepunkest @24kgolden @kaelyn-lobrutto24
#pedro pascal x reader#Javier pena x reader#narcos x reader#narco!javier pena x reader#Narco!Javier Pena#Javier pena
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The Price of a Soul
Part 1/? - Agent Russel
I am absolutely going to regret starting to post this, but here goes.
An AU: a Russian agent slips Agent Carter a letter that seems to contain a clue to the location of the Valkyrie crash site. What is Peggy willing to sacrifice in order to bring Steve’s body home? Her job? Her reputation? Maybe even her life? And what will she do when she learns what her Soviet source already knew - that Captain America isn’t a corpse after all?
-
Peggy was not at all happy about the situation, but at the same time, she knew she had nobody to blame for it but herself.
After all, she was the one who’d broken Dottie Underwood out of prison and then lost track of her. That made it, technically, Peggy’s fault that the woman had robbed the Toucan Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, making off with some two hundred thousand dollars. Now the mafia was looking for Dottie, along with dozens of corrupt police officers all over the country, all of them getting in Peggy’s way, alternately threatening her, trying to bribe her, and ignoring her… and as if that weren’t enough, now the bloody FBI had gotten involved.
All things considered, Peggy was very tempted to call in to work with a headache. The main reason she did not was because half the people involved in this fiasco already considered her a potential criminal and she didn’t want to give their theories any support. But there wasn’t exactly a spring in her step as she opened the door marked Auerbach Theatrical Agency and stepped inside.
It was a sunny morning in Los Angeles, and light was pouring through the big window into the middle of the room, where a blonde in a pink cardigan was kneeling on the floor doing a scene from MacBeth.
“The Thane of Fife had a wife!” the woman lamented, in a shockingly obnoxious mockery of a Scottish accent. She mimed thrusting her hands under a stream of water and rubbing them together to wash them. “Where is she now?”
“Good morning, Rose,” said Peggy, to the woman behind the desk.
“Good morning, Peggy,” Rose replied with a sigh. The SSR had gone out of its way to make the supposed ‘theatrical agency’ nearly impossible to find, and yet hopefuls still showed up quite regularly. When Peggy had left the previous evening, there’d been a pair of young East Asian men, twins, juggling knives. One of the blades was still embedded in the wall where its owner had thrown it. Now there was this would-be Shakespearean.
“What, will this hand never be clean?” the blonde went on, refusing to break character. “No more of that, my Lord, no more of that! You mar all with this starting!”
“Well, if anyone needs me, I’ll be upstairs waiting for my ten o’clock,” said Peggy. FBI Agent Russel, here to offer his ‘assistance’ apprehending Ms. Dorothy Underwood – and to keep an eye on SSR Agent Carter to make sure she wasn’t involved in any criminal activities. They might have at least tried to be subtle about it.
“I’ll let you know when he arrives,” said Rose.
Peggy turned to head upstairs, when a new voice said, “Agent Carter?”
She turned around. The blonde was standing now. She was quite small, shorter than Peggy, dressed in a mid-calf beige skirt, and the pink cardigan was over a matching blouse with a single tasteful string of pearls. Her makeup was quite dramatic, with deep red lipstick in a similar shade to Peggy’s own. Her purse was also bright red, and she reached into it and pulled out a little leather billfold which she opened to reveal a red and silver FBI badge.
“I’m Agent Nadine Russel,” she said.
Peggy should not have been startled – she really should not. She was thoroughly sick of everyone she met being surprised that SSR Agent Carter was a woman, and this Agent Russel probably felt the same… but it took her a moment to regain a neutral expression regardless. She looked at Rose.
Rose shook her head. Apparently the woman had simply walked in and started doing Shakespeare.
“I’m sorry,” said Russel with a smile. “But she asked me if I were here to audition and I couldn’t resist.”
“To be fair, she’s not one of the worst we’ve had,” Rose put in.
Russel stepped forward to shake Peggy’s hand.
“I apologize as well,” Peggy said, as she accepted the gesture. “I wasn’t aware the FBI employed female agents.” It made sense, though… if they wanted to send somebody who could tail Peggy anywhere, a man would not do. They would know from her history that she could get away from them easily.
“That’s how they like it,” said Russel with a nod. Her accent was educated American, non-regional. Peggy could not have begun to make a guess where she came from. “Let’s go upstairs, and we can talk.”
In the upstairs offices, the other employees of the Strategic Scientific Reserve were already getting on with the day’s work. Director Daniel Sousa was having a conversation with Agent Sato when Peggy and Russel arrived, and Peggy waited a moment until she knew the men had seen her before interrupting.
“I’m sorry, Daniel,” she said, “but Agent Russel wants to discuss the Underwood case with me somewhere private. May we use your office?”
Daniel was just as surprised to find that Agent Russel was a woman as Peggy had been, and while there was a part of Peggy that thought he, too, really ought to know better, another part was just glad she wasn’t the only one. “Of course,” he said. “Go right in. Ben, let’s go to your desk.”
Benjiro Sato nodded, and the two men got out of the way. Inside, Peggy sat down in Daniel’s chair, leaving Russel to take the one opposite. It was not intentional on Peggy’s part – she merely entered the room first – but she decided not to change the situation. It would help to remind Russel, who after all was not exactly an ally, that she was on her home turf here and the other woman was not.
Russel didn’t seem to mind. She pulled her chair closer to the desk and took a leather-bound folio out of her briefcase. “This is the most important information we have on Miss Barynova,” she said. “I was going through it again on my way here…”
“Barynova?” Peggy interrupted, a chill running up her spine. “You mean Dorothy Underwood?” In all her own work on and with the woman, she had never encountered anything that might be her real name… only a series of aliases, with ‘Dorothy Underwood’ merely being the one they’d placed on the ‘most wanted’ list.
“Oh, yes, I beg your pardon, her name is Olga Barynova,” said Russel. “At least, according to sources at the CIA that I’m apparently not allowed to speak to directly.”
The CIA as well? There were entirely too many acronyms involved in this, Peggy thought crossly. The more organizations got interested, the more bureaucracy, the more paperwork, the less communication, and the less chance of them ever finding their target. “I see,” said Peggy. At least that was new information. She wasn’t surprised the CIA hadn’t shared it with her, but she was a bit surprised they’d been able to find it out. Her impression of them in peacetime was not good. Perhaps the information could serve Peggy at some point in the future.
“Anyway, as I was saying.” Russel took out a notebook and sat back to balance it on her knee. “I was looking through our information and realized that for all you’re the one who first encountered her, nobody has apparently interviewed you about your history with Miss Barynova, which…” She paused, perhaps searching for words, and settled on the tactful, “seems like an oversight.”
“It is, rather, isn’t it?” Peggy asked. She remained calm on the outside, but inside her mind was scrambling. Russel was about to ask her to tell the story. Peggy didn’t want to incriminate herself because that would only slow down the whole process of catching Dottie and lead to a lot of sidetracks. But she didn’t want to tell too many lies, because lies could be checked, and whatever she said was going to have to be self-consistent.
“Maybe you’d like to tell me what happened?” Russel suggested.
“I would very much like to,” Peggy lied. “To the best of my knowledge, Miss Un… Miss Barynova came to America in the employ of a man named Fenhoff, who claimed he needed her help with something to do with undermining democracy… I’m not sure of the details. What he actually wanted from her was help in a plan to take personal revenge on Howard Stark…”
The first half of the story was easy enough to tell… the half in which Peggy had been purely trying to catch this woman and hadn’t been complicit in her presence. The second half, the part that took place here in Los Angeles, was far more difficult.
“When I left New York she was locked up,” Peggy said. “The next time I heard about her, she’d escaped and had been sighted here in California.”
So far, Russel had been listening, making notes, but not interrupting. Now she suddenly asked, “what do you think brought her here?”
Now it was time to lie. “Quite honestly, I think she was following me,” Peggy replied. “When she was arrested at the bank she had taken some trouble to look like me. I think I may be the only person who ever really tried to get inside her head, and that seems to have impressed her.” Perhaps Peggy was tooting her own horn there, but she did get the idea that Dottie was somewhat obsessed with her, and that was her best guess at why.
Russel nodded. “We’re not used to people trying to get inside our heads,” she observed, tapping the side of her own. “Men tend to assume there’s nothing much going on in there.”
“They do, don’t they?” said Peggy, not amused at all. Of course, Russel was doing the same thing with Peggy now, trying to get inside her head… and she was perfectly well aware that Peggy knew that was what she was doing. This could turn into a dangerous game indeed, and a distraction Peggy did not need right now. “Unfortunately, during Miss Barynova’s stay in California I was far too concerned with Agnes Cully and the problems at Isodyne to really have time to pursue her. By the time I turned my attention to that she was long gone.”
“Do you think she has a long-term goal?” asked Russel.
“I can’t say, honestly,” Peggy replied, and that was the entire truth. “Sometimes it starts to seem like she’s up to something fiendishly clever and I’m only seeing the tiniest corner of it… other times I think she’s doing all this just for the fun of it. I do know she doesn’t want to go back to the USSR.”
“No… we have some idea what happens to Russian agents who outlive their usefulness,” said Russel. “Besides, we’d much rather have her here in the States where we can pick her brains.”
“I doubt you’ll get much from her – nobody else ever has,” said Peggy.
Russel nodded. “What did you do when you first heard about the Toucan heist?” she asked.
The two women talked for most of the morning, and while Peggy wasn’t sure what Russel thought of her, her impression of the other woman was of somebody intensely focused. That was not good from her point of view. The reason she’d been dreading meeting the FBI agent was because she’d thought he’d be a pain in the arse to get rid of – but she’d never doubted she’d be able to do it. Russel was another matter entirely. She would not be avoided by going into the powder room, would not be scared off by a mention of ‘ladies’ troubles’. Nor had she been asking a list of routine questions. She’d let Peggy lead the way, while she inscrutably wrote notes, keeping her thoughts to herself but attentive and interested.
Nadine Russel was an equal, and the most annoying thing about the situation was that if it weren’t for the situation that had set them up as rivals, she and Peggy would probably have got along like a house on fire.
Finally, around lunch time, Russel checked her watch and closed her notebook. “Thank you for your time, Agent Carter,” she said. “I’ve got some more interviews I need to do today, but I will definitely check in with you again. If you need to contact me, you can do so at this number.” She held out a blank business card, with the phone number written on it in tidy black ink.
“Thank you, Agent Russel, I hope I was helpful,” Peggy replied.
They shook hands again, and Russel took her red purse and her leather folio, and left.
Once she was gone, Peggy sat back down in Daniel’s chair and pushed her hands into her hair. Bloody hell, she didn’t need this right now. She did not.
There was a rap on the door. “Peggy?” Daniel asked, sticking his head into the room.
“Sorry, Daniel,” she said, and got to her feet with a sigh. “You may have your office back.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m better than I might be, but worse than I’d hoped,” Peggy said, and that much was entirely honest. “It would be a gift if I could just tell her the truth, but that would create far more problems than it would solve.”
There was a moment of silence. Peggy and Daniel both knew that ‘more problems’ would involve them getting in deserved trouble for laws they absolutely had broken. The problem was that there was nobody else they trusted to handle things like Dottie. The police were corrupt, and the government and big business was, half the time, the problem, and they definitely weren’t going to let the mafia deal with it. That left only so many options.
“Well, better get back to work,” said Daniel.
“Yes, back to work,” Peggy agreed.
She returned to her desk and dropped her purse on it heavily. The world was such a mess. During the war it had been so clear who were the good guys, and who the bad. Now it had become ever so much more complicated.
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The Moment I Knew
Based off of “The Moment I Knew” – Song by Taylor Swift
Tom Holland x Reader
<2k
Warnings: Just Angstyyyyyyy
A/N: This is Pt. 1 of 2 fics that essentially go together, but can be read separately. I’m just now starting to put my writing out on Tumblr and this is my second go and first time posting a Tom Fic! If you enjoy reading it, like, reblog, comment, or even follow! I may be posting for me, but hope you all enjoy it! <3
Read Part 2 here!
*Gif isn’t mine! Credits to owner
A Few Days Before Y/N’s Party
“You sure you’ll make it? Your agent will let you off for a few hours to celebrate my birthday?” Y/N asked worriedly as she finished some of the homemade decorations for her classy 22nd party.
“Alisha said that the interviews and press all finish around 4, so I will definitely be there for the 6 o’clock debut of the beautiful birthday girl!” Y/N could hear Tom beaming through the phone.
“You promise?”
“I promise,” Tom reassured Y/N.
“Okay! Yay! I love you! See you in a few days!” Y/N excitedly said as she wished Tom goodbye.
Day of Y/N’s Party
The lights were all strung, the food was nearly done, and Y/N had put on her sophisticated party dress with a coordinating red lipstick. It was actually Tom’s favorite shade on her.
Not only was today Y/N’s birthday, but it would be the first time this month that she would be seeing her famous boyfriend. He had been in the country for nearly a week, but had been so busy with press for Far From Home that he hadn’t had any time to see her.
Y/N glanced at the clock. It read 5 o’clock. Her phone had not rang with Tom’s tone all day after his happy birthday call in the morning and Y/N was starting to worry. She thought he would’ve been to her apartment by now.
ding-dong
Y/N quickly, but as ladylike as possible, rushed to the door. She really hoped it was Tom with his “baby, I’m right here smile.” She knew that her face would like up like a million shining stars if it was him.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Haz, Zendaya, and a few of Y/N’s other friends yelled as she opened the door to see their faces.
Y/N put on her best smile, trying to hide her disappointment. She hugged each of her friends, offered them drinks, and gave the aux cord to Zendaya.
“Let’s get the party started!” Zendaya hollered as she put on one of her infamous playlists.
Y/N watched her friends have a good time. She let more people in as they arrived, hoping each time that it was Tom, but each time, she became a little more disappointed.
She tried her best to enjoy the party, but everything swirled around her in slow motion. She wasn’t really present. She played with her party dress, checked her red lipstick, but she didn’t have anyone to impress.
“Y/N/N! How’s Tom been?”
Y/N snapped out of her daze and turned towards her friend, Y/F/N.
“Oh um, he’s been good! Had a lot of press since the movie came out! I’m sure Zendaya and Jacob can attest to that…”
“Oh yeah! He’s of course the most busy…” Zendaya and Jacob start telling stories, but Y/N zoned out again.
It just hit her that Z and Jacob managed to make it and they had been doing different events all day as well. Checking her phone again, the analog numbers turned from 7:59 to 8:00, still no Tom.
The hours seemed to be passing by, but the thing about celebrity and important parties is that they never seem to end. By 10:00, Y/N just wanted to be alone. As she quietly excused herself and walked down the hall to her bathroom, Z, Haz, Sam, and Harry all exchanged looks knowing something was wrong. They grabbed her cousin, Y/C/N and followed her down the hall.
“Y/N/N? Are you okay?” Y/C/N asked, knocking on the door. She came in, sitting next to Y/N on the bathroom floor, the other four followed her in.
“Yeah. I’m alright. Just a little overwhelmed. You know how it goes!” Y/N answered, trying not to fall apart. However, a sinking feeling in her stomach started to set in.
She looks up at Y/C/N, Z, Haz, Sam, and Harry, “He said he’d be here…He promised…” she added, almost hopelessly.
“If he said he was going to be here, then I’m sure he just got tied up and will be here soon! He’s late to most things because of work.”
“He said Alisha booked everything to finish at 4, so he would get here before anyone else did. I won’t let it bother me though. It’s fine! Really guys! I swear!” Y/N insisted.
“Are you sure?” Z looked at her sadly.
“Yes! Common guys! Let’s go enjoy my party! I don’t want to keep everyone else waiting!”
Y/N stood up powerfully, trying to put on an even better face. She is not an actor though. Her boyfriend is.
Not fooling anyone who came to check on her, they willingly followed her back to the party. They all continued to have a good time and tried to cheer Y/N up, but everything continued in slow motion around her. She drank champagne, laughed when she was supposed to, and continued to check her lipstick just in case.
She took a moment around 11:00 to look around at all of the faces at her party. She did love each and every one of them, but in all of the faces, the one missing was the one that meant the most to her.
At that point, she couldn’t take it. The tears just started flowing. She knew everyone would look at her. But what can you do when you start crying in front of everyone you know? Luckily, Haz caught sight of her first. He got Y/N’s best friend Y/BF/N to steal Y/N away and he took the general attention of the party.
“hey, hey, hey, Bud, what’s wrong?” Y/BF/N tried to soothe Y/N.
“He was supposed to be here, Y/BF/N. He promised. I haven’t seen him in over a month and it’s my birthday and he said he would make sure. I just can’t do it anymore. I love him, but I can’t just wait around,” Y/N couldn’t help but sob harder.
“Y/N/N, I’m so sorry. I know how excited you were for today. Everything looks beautiful and you planned for so long. So, what we’re going to do is make it through this party. We are going to fix up your make-up, get through cake, and then you and I can watch all the movies you want. You can vent, you can scream, you can cry. You will get everything out. Okay? But do not let this ruin your birthday! Okay?” Y/BF/N held Y/N’s gaze as she took a few deep breaths.
All Y/N could do was nod her head in response.
Y/BF/N fixed up Y/N’s make-up so that it was as flawless as before and led her back out to the party. Haz was still telling funny stories and Y/N was able to sit back in the circle as if she had never left.
Haz slightly acknowledged Y/N’s presence and shifted his story telling to a story about her and their friendship. That did make Y/N smile. Even better, he left Tom out of the story. It let Y/N know that she did have a special relationship with the friends she had made through Tom over the last year and a half.
Y/N began to actually enjoy herself in the last hour of the party, that was until they sat her down, dimmed the lights, and lit the candles of her birthday cake.
The scene was in slow motion all over again. The dress that she knew Tom would love was no longer comfortable, she didn’t even bother with her lipstick anymore, he wasn’t there to impress.
She looked up quick enough to smile when all of her friends began singing ‘Happy Birthday to you,’ and as much as she tried to enjoy the moment, there was one thing missing in the entire scene. She couldn’t stop thinking about it as she inhaled to blow out her candles. That was the moment she knew, she just couldn’t keep letting herself get disappointed.
People started to leave and Y/N’s apartment emptied out. She hugged all of her best friends, including Haz, Zendaya, Jacob, and Tom’s brothers. When she finally shut the door for the last time, the clock chimed, letting her know that it was 12:30.
She leaned her head against the door as she went to lock the deadbolt. She felt a soft hand rubbing her back. Thank God that Y/BF/N did not leave her alone.
“Common, why don’t you put on some pajamas. You’ll be so much more comfortable that way,” Y/BF/N urged.
Y/N followed Y/BF/N to her room and took off her party dress. She avoided all of her baggy clothes that were Tom’s and after taking off her make-up, she flopped into bed.
“Okay! Movie time! We can watch The Other Woman or Legally Blond. Personally, I feel like we should watch Legally Blond because you are just as strong and powerful as Elle, so it’s fitting,” Y/BF/N rambled on.
Y/N just nodded her head as she buried herself into her covers, leaving space for Y/BF/N to snuggle in next to her.
The opening scenes played and Y/N finally started to feel relaxed. That was until her phone started vibrating. She was getting a call.
“Y/BF/N…It’s Tom…”
Y/N lifted her phone up to her ear with a simple, “Hello?”
“Y/N, love. Thank heavens you are still awake. I’m sorry I didn’t make it tonight,” Tom tried to apologize.
Before he could continue on, Y/N interrupted him, “I’m sorry too. Tom. I just can’t talk about this tonight okay? It’s going to lead to an argument and I just spent my entire birthday party being upset. I will talk to you tomorrow.”
With that, Y/N ended the phone call and burst into tears on Y/BF/N’s shoulder. The whole night just showed her what she needed to do. Her birthday gave her the moment that she knew.
#tom holland#tom holland fic#tom holland x reader#tom holland fanfic#marvel#mcu#spiderman#peter parker#peter parker x reader#kalimagik#first tom fic#enjoy!
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adore you--harry styles
a/n: erm yeah, so this is something I wrote literally a year ago. It’s an open ended ending (I have no idea where I wanted to go with it but assuming by the title...) anywho. First time posting Harry as standalone, I’ve used him as an outside antagonist in other pieces but yeah. Let me know what you think!?
word count: just shy of 2.8k
warnings: slight jealousy? it is an OC but no definitive characteristics are described
**I used my taglist from 5sos but if you don’t want to be tagged for future (maybe?) harry writings, please let me know!
•••
Harry and Selah were writing buddies. He’d found her poetry on Instagram and had been hooked by her words ever since. He’d messaged her asking if she’d like to collaborate sometime and after a day of screeching about the direct message from none other than Harry Styles himself, she responded.
I’d love to! But I don’t live anywhere near London or LA
Not a problem. I’ll fly you out. H
You aren’t serious
I am 🙂 what do you say?
And then she was on a plane out to LA to write a song or two with Harry Styles. She was a big ball of chaotic and anxious energy. She was excited but nervous and didn’t know what in the world to expect. She’d been a fan of One Direction when they started.
She’d even seen them perform live and it was so surreal she couldn’t believe she saw them in person. And now she’s actually going to meet 1/5 of one of her favorite boybands. If she’s dreaming she didn’t want to wake up.
Once her bags were claimed she noticed a tall woman with a blond bob and a tailored suit, she was holding up a small sign that read ‘Selah Grace Clark’ with the acronym of ‘TPWK’ underneath. This must be her ride.
“Um, I’m Selah Clark,” she says shyly approaching the woman.
“Oh! Hello! I’m Maeve, Harry’s driver but now yours while you’re here,” Maeve smiles extending her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Maeve,” Selah smiles shaking her hand.
“Is this all your luggage?” Maeve indicates to the three large suitcases next to Selah.
“Yeah . . . is it too much? I’ve never been to LA and I don’t know how long I’m staying for—“
“It’s absolutely fine! Don’t worry! Let’s just get a cart so you don’t have to lug it around to the car.”
Selah was taken to a hotel and into the nicest room she’s ever been in.
“Harry wanted you to feel comfortable in your own suite, room service accessible and I’ll be back in a few hours to pick you up and meet him.”
“Where will I be meeting him?” Selah tries to keep her voice at a normal pitch.
“At his house. He’s doing some meetings today but insisted on having you for dinner. I’ll be round by six o’clock Miss Clark.”
“Please, call me Selah or Sel, not Miss Clark,” Selah winces at the formality.
“Absolutely Selah. I’ll see you around,” Maeve winks then exits the suite.
Selah takes a look around then squeals running to the bedroom and flops onto the bed. Is this real life?
+++++
Selah opted for a casual outfit for meeting Harry and her nerves were a terrible bundle the closer she got to his house. What if she’s a blubbering, stuttering mess and he regrets bringing her out here? She’s never met anyone famous before and now she’s meeting (and going to be writing with) one of the most famous singers in the country.
“Here we are,” Maeve announces pulling through the iron gates and into the circle around driveway.
There’s a fountain in the middle of it and unlike her prediction, his house looked very homey and inviting.
“I know you’re nervous, Selah but really, Harry’s just like a regular guy,” Maeve tries to comfort her.
++++++
Selah peruses the photographs adorned on his walls while she waits for him. They’re snapshots of his whole career, faces she recognizes of celebrities and faces she doesn’t. In each one Harry is the enigma, his charisma exudes through the photographs.
“Sorry for keeping you,” a droll voice thick as honey says from behind her.
Selah whips around and her breath is stuck in her throat. Harry Styles is walking towards her wearing tan trousers and a band tee, his hair is styled in the perfect mess. His green eyes are excited and paired with a smile she’s only familiar with in pictures.
“Hello, I’m Harry,” he holds out his ring covered hand. “And you’re Selah Grace Clark.”
“H-hi,” Selah chokes out taking his hand in hers. It’s warm and soft and strong and she can’t breathe. “And just . . . just Selah.”
“Well, ‘just Selah,’” he mocks giving her hand one final shake before releasing. “Would you like to help me with dinner? I hope you like pasta.”
“I . . .” Selah takes a deep breath and exhales her nervousness. “I love pasta.”
++++
One year later, Selah and Harry have become closer than close and she’s become one of his confidante’s and most valued co-writer. She’s been through the thick of things with him and the first time he tried recreational drugs. Her heart still flutters when she remembers what he said to her while he was high.
They were at Mitch’s place working on a song Harry had no name for and only a quarter of the lyrics, when he came and sat down heavily next to her on the couch. His green eyes were dazed but not confused as he focused on her, his long arm falling onto her shoulders.
“Y’know somethin’?” he drags out.
“What?” she humors him with a laugh.
“Your eyes right now are like the ocean with stars in them,” he lifts his left hand to her face. His fingers ghost over her eyelashes then pokes her nose gently. His own brows furrow as he concentrates on her eyes.
She’s stood from the sidelines watching him fall into his despair after what Camille did to him. It made her own heart break but she knew he had to come to terms with it on his own, she knew he could do it and he did.
Little did Harry know that her friendship ran a little deeper, had a little more love in it then she intended it to. How was she supposed to know she’d fall for him?
And now, it’s the day after Christmas and she’s pulling up to his place. He decided to have a little get together for everyone that helped with the album. She opted for a red dress, fish net tights and heeled boots.
When she opened the door his house was already filled with laughter and cheer, Christmas music playing throughout.
“There she is! And looking hotter than ever, damn girl!” Mitch exclaims coming from the kitchen with a small crystal glass that looks like it’s filled with eggnog.
“Oh stop it,” Selah blushes setting her keys on the main table where everybody else’s were.
“C’mere, you,” he grins some more pulling her in for a hug. “C’mon, everyone’s in the living room.”
He keeps his arm around her shoulders leading her into the living room where Harry’s large tree was decorated and standing perfectly in the corner. Everyone you knew were sat around on couches and chairs, even Gemma was kneeling on the floor next to Michal who was sitting on the couch.
“Look who’s arrived!” Mitch shouts.
“Mitch!” she hisses feeling embarrassed as everyone turns their heads in unison to look at her.
“Selah!”
“Sel!”
Gemma is the first to run up and hug you, touching your hair delicately praising how much she likes it.
“Want a drink?” Mitch asks.
“Please. You know what I like?”
“’Course I do,” he shrugs kissing her temple then retreats back into the kitchen.
“You look amazing!” Gemma gushes eying up her dress.
“Thank you, I love your dress,” Selah responds with a smile. She spots Harry behind her, he’s wearing a deep green jumper with faded jeans, his stubble visible even from this distance. He sends a wink her way before continuing his conversation.
Selah tries to ignore the fact he didn’t come say hi but he was talking with someone else and Harry was anything but rude. Selah let Gemma grab her hand leading her to where Michal was. Mitch joined back quickly with her drink and wouldn’t keep his hands off her.
He’s usually pretty lovey dovey with everyone once he’s gotten a little bit to drink but this was a bit more outlandish for him. Selah played along with it and she thought she saw Harry give them a look but someone walked in front of him and he wasn’t looking at her anymore.
Selah is at the food table making a plate of cheese and crackers with some fruit and mini meatballs when she smells an all too familiar cologne and an all too familiar touch on her back.
“Before you dig in, I have something to give you,” Harry says lowly in her ear.
Selah turns her head sharply then gasps when she sees how close Harry’s face is to hers. She gulps then nods. Keeping his eyes strained on her, with one hand he puts her plate down and with the other takes her hand.
He leads her through the kitchen out into the small garden joined to his house. It’s decorated with fairy lights and it smells of fresh pine, which is odd because that doesn’t grow in LA.
“It’s out here?” she scrunches her nose.
“It’s quieter, don’t you think?” he grins back at her then stops her right in the middle of the small area.
“I guess,” she sighs. “I didn’t get you anything, Harry, I’ve been so busy flying home and getting presents for everyone else I just—“
“You don’t have to get me anything, love,” he shakes his head then picks up a pretty flat wrapped gift from a bench. He places it in her hands delicately. “Merry Christmas, Sel.”
“Merry Christmas, Harry,” she smiles then rips into the gift. She gasps, her eyes darting up to Harry when she sees what the thin box consists of. It’s the newest Macbook. “Harry this is—“
“It’s not too much, it’s just enough. You deserve a good writing tool, especially with your book coming along,” his green eyes twinkle.
“I’ll pay you back, I promise!”
“You don’t payback for a gift,” he chortles. “It’s yours. Merry Christmas.”
Selah sets the gift gently down on the bench behind her then throws her arms around Harry’s neck. Her toes rise off the ground as he hugs her back, his arms tight around her waist.
“I love it, thank you so much,” she says into the collar of his sweater.
“You’re welcome.”
They release their hold slowly, his eyes flicker down while hers flicker up. The air between them fills with static, something electric hangs in the air.
“Mistletoe,” he grunts tightening his hands on her waist.
“I don’t—wait what?” she asks puzzled.
“We’re under mistletoe, love,” he hums.
“Oh?” she squeaks. “Who put that there?”
Harry smiles at her petulance reaching his hand up to cup her chin with his thumb, he rubs her chin gently stroking up her cheek.
“I think the man of the house had an agenda.”
“That’s the narcissist in him,” she hums as he leans in closer, a chuckle escaping his lips.
She closes her eyes smelling the cinnamon and eggnog on his breath. Her heart is pounding loudly in her ears as she becomes hyperaware to everything he does. His nose bumps hers then his lips are soon to follow.
There’s a small pause as he waits for her to pull away but Selah is frozen. So Harry continues connecting their lips in the softest kiss she’s ever experienced, his lips mold hers into what he wants and she’s pliant under him. Where he leads she’ll surely follow.
At the touch of his tongue slipping over hers she lets out a quiet moan and kisses him deeper. Her fingers curl into his soft brown locks like many times before when he’d be lying on her lap complaining about a migraine. This is so much better.
Harry gets more excited as the kiss continues, he parts his mouth open welcoming her soft tongue and pushes her against the edge of the doorway to the gazebo garden. Selah grunts at the impact and he mumbles out a ‘sorry’ connecting their lips again. His hands travel lower on her waist until he feels the hem of her dress and the fishnet tights.
He squeezes her thighs hoisting her in the air and her legs wrap around his waist so she doesn’t fall on her butt. A surprised squeak at the sudden movement escapes her lips and Harry smiles at her cuteness.
“I’ve got you, love,” he grins and gives her thighs a squeeze for good measure. Her legs clench around him and Harry desperately wants to take her upstairs to his bedroom and have his way with her until New Year’s Day.
“We’re not under the mistletoe anymore,” she sighs stroking his stubbled cheek and the birthmark.
“You want me to stop kissing you?” he huffs cocking his head to the side. His green eyes seem dark in the lowlight but she knows him well enough that he’s anything but dark.
“No,” she murmurs through a smile.
“All right then,” his eyes dance mirthlessly as he presses his lips to hers again.
Selah’s heart is soaring, her fingers are tingling and her lips are zinging from kissing Harry like this. It’s everything she’s wanted and more. She never wants to stop.
Until they do when there’s a loud pop of champagne from the kitchen and they break apart in shock. Selah knocks her head on the windowpane and squeezes around Harry who grunts at the impact.
“Ow,” she whispers.
“Are you okay?” he asks setting her back on her feet carefully. He cradles her head delicately, the cool of his rings feel nice on her temples as he inspects her.
“Yeah, I’m good,” she nods then giggles at him.
“What’sso funny?” he smirks.
She continues to snicker and rubs at the top of his lip. “My lipstick is all over you, H.”
He rolls his eyes. “Not my color, eh?”
“Not like this,” she snickers trying to rub it off. “You’ll have to use soap.”
“Where’d Harry and Sel run off to?” Mitch shouts.
“Your boyfriend’s gonna be mad if he finds us,” Harry grumbles tucking her hair behind her ears.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He’s been over you all night, hasn’t he?” his dark brows furrow into an angry line.
“It’s nothing, Harry,” Selah rolls her eyes. “You know how he gets when he’s drunk.”
“He wasn’t drunk when you got here,” he shakes his head.
“O . . . kay? What are you saying? You brought me out here to kiss me and stake your claim because some other guy was showing me attention?” Selah pushes him away from her angrily.
“N-no! That’s not what I—“ he closes his eyes and exhales deeply through his nose. It’s his calming mechanism.
“That’s low, Harry, even for you,” she scoffs and tries to sidle past him to leave.
“Selah Grace, listen to me,” he uses her full name grabbing hold of her wrist spinning her around. She smacks into him and tries to push away from him with her small hand on her chest.
“Let me go!”
He grabs her other wrist pinning her fighting arms against her body. He ducks his head so his eyes are level with hers.
“That was a dumb thing of me to say,” he confesses. “You aren’t something to ‘stake a claim’ on, Selah. I just . . .” he closes his eyes then opens them again with a big breath, “I did have this planned. The gift, the mistletoe, it was all a plan to try and kiss you if you’d let me. Hearing him just made me think of how he has been all over you.”
She’s fuming silently, her lips in a scowl and her eyes hard. If he didn’t know she was mad at him he’d tell her she’s adorable as fuck when she’s mad but he’ll tell her that some other time.
“And that bothered you?” she asks quietly.
He licks his lips and nods. He slowly releases her wrists bringing them up to his mouth, he kisses the soft skin inside each wrist. His green eyes pleading her forgiveness.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles on her skin.
“You’re lucky you look like a dork with that lipstick on or I wouldn’t forgive you,” she says icily. He continues to kiss up her wrist and into her palm, his eyes on her.
“And because you fancy me,” he smirks now kissing her fingertips lightly.
“Shut up,” she scoffs rolling her eyes. “Go wash your mouth, Styles.”
“Can you help me?” he grins mischievously.
She leans up kissing him quickly, his lips chase hers as she answers with a simple, ‘nope.’ With a grin she skips behind him and picks up her laptop holding it to her chest.
“Better hurry before my boyfriend sees,” she smirks then leaves him standing there in disbelief.
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Why Are We Still Waiting? - Chapter 1
Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)
Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe, about 21 months after that epilogue, about 8 months since the prologue)
Word Count: ~4400
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Summary: A new member of the family arrives, and both Drake and Riley reflect on how much things have changed over the past 3 years.
Author’s Note: Let’s try this again, shall we? Sorry for the delay between the prologue and this chapter, but I’m much happier with the character arcs I’ve got planned now, and I think you all will enjoy the story more, too. To catch up on this series, you can check out the It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment masterlist (link in bio).
It was a quiet night in the Kensington neighborhood of Brooklyn. Anderson was curled up in his armchair, dozing lightly after his evening walk. The TV was on, the eleven o’clock news about to start any moment, and Drake was settled onto the couch, ready to watch, no matter how much Riley teased him about being “an old man” for still using the television to get his news. She was stretched out on the couch next to him, her toes tucked under his thigh. She was finishing up her work for the day, reviewing the twitter buzz for the reopening of a restaurant that hired the PR firm she worked for after a video of the former head chef going on a racist tirade surfaced. It was boring, average, and incredibly routine. It was the type of evening Drake enjoyed the most.
He knew Riley saw nights in like this as their “catch up” nights, but honestly, Drake looked forward to them a lot. Sure, in the more than two years he’d lived in New York, he’d come to find many things he loved about the city. The variety of food available at hole-in-the-wall restaurants was amazing, and the portion sizes and prices were always right. The mind games and backstabbing of court were replaced with direct, blunt friendships with Luke, Sunil, Caleb, and Omar, men he’d gotten to know at some of his different temp postings before he got hired on as a permanent employee at the law firm three months ago. And sure, it’s not like he had some great passion for reviewing and cataloging court filings and documents, but it paid the bills. And no one in his life judged him for it.
After Riley had earned her degree, she’d talked a lot about the two of them starting to save up for him to go back to school, researching which universities would take some or all of his previously-earned credits. But at some point, Drake realized that wasn’t really something he wanted. When he’d been younger, leaving Cordonia to get a Bachelor’s degree had felt like a way to establish himself as his own person, independent from the pressure of Court, separate from Liam. But now, he lived in a different city. He had a fiancée and a steady job and his own life already. He didn’t need a degree or a university experience to gain that independence.
And truth be told, with the variety of office jobs he’d held when he was still temping, he was pretty convinced that any career opportunities he could gain from having a university degree would not be jobs he actually wanted, or at least not ones he wanted any more than what he had now. He didn’t want to toil away at some corporate bullshit, striving just to inch up that ladder to get that next promotion. Plus, it turned out he was about as well-suited for office politics as he’d been for courtly politics, which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. Additionally, if he went back to school, they would have to pay for six semesters, not just two like they’d had to for Riley. Earning that degree just seemed like a total waste of time and money.
Instead, they were slowly saving up for a variety of things these days. Their real honeymoon, not their would-be honeymoon they went on after they postponed their wedding. A road trip out to the West Coast. A bigger apartment for when they had kids. In all honesty, it turns out that he didn’t so much care what his job was. He wasn’t like Liam who found purpose and satisfaction from his work. Nor was he going to be like Maxwell and turn some zany endeavor into an honest-to-god career writing made-for-TV movies. And he did not have anywhere near the skill set and connections that Hana had, allowing her to open a international bakery chain that turned all its profits into disaster relief donations or grants and low interest small business loans for women in impoverished countries. If his job was able to allow him to take care of those he loved, he was happy enough. Taking care of his family and spending time with them was always going to be the most important thing to him.
His family was on his mind often these days. Savannah was just over two weeks from her due date, and Drake was excited to actually get to know his niece or nephew from the start this time. He and Riley had a trip out to Cordonia scheduled next month, soon enough after the due date that they would get to meet the baby early, but not so early that they would be totally unwelcome visitors. Riley could only get one week off, but Drake was staying for an extra week after she left to spend a little more time with his niece or nephew. He figured it was Savannah’s way of trying to make up for all the time he missed with Bartie when he was little. Regardless, he was looking forward to meeting the second baby Beaumont.
In general, life was just good at the moment. Honestly, things had been good for a while. It was a feeling Drake had never imagined experiencing so consistently. But his life was stable, he knew he and Riley were on a good path, and he had a handful of close friends, both in the city and in Cordonia. His job was tolerable for the pay he earned. He really didn’t feel like he could ask for much more. So he watched the news with a smile on his face, as Riley sat next to him, replying to the occasional tweet.
By the time the newscast got to weather, Drake was yawning. He knew it would just provide more ammo for Riley to tease him about being old, but he couldn’t help it. It was a weeknight, it was late, and he got up before she did.
“Is it bedtime at the retirement home?” she quipped almost on cue, her eyes not leaving her phone screen as she nudged him with her foot.
Drake just shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. You coming to bed soon?”
Riley shrugged. “Not right away. In a little bit.”
He nodded as he stood up, dropping a kiss to her forehead as he passed on his way to the bathroom and bedroom.
“Wait, you forgot your phone,” Riley called out. He spun and saw her extending her arm back over the arm of the couch toward him, her eyes still glued on her own screen. He stepped forward to grab it, but it started buzzing in her hand, clearly startling her as she let out a little yelp and brought the phone forward to see who was calling.
“Why is Maxwell calling you at… 6:25 in the morning?” she asked, quickly doing the time zone math.
He just shrugged as he took the phone from her and swiped to answer the call. “Maxwell, what are you doing up?”
“Break out the cigars! It’s a girl!”
It took Drake a few seconds to mentally catch up to Maxwell’s statement. “Wait, you mean Savannah-”
“Had the baby? Yup! Just under 3 kilos and screaming up a storm,” said Maxwell with a chuckle, “They’re still deciding on a name, but I think it’ll be Caroline Annabelle Beaumont. At least that’s what they were leaning to when I stepped out to give them some privacy and give you a call.”
“I thought someone was going to call me when she went into labor?”
“Well… Savannah kind of forbid anyone from calling you. She said that you would just worry too much and would be blowing up her phone when she needed to be focused on other things. She pointed out that it wouldn’t really make a difference, either, with you being in the Big Apple.”
Drake shook his head and sank back onto the couch. “Unreal.”
“Hey, I vouched for you, man! I told her that you would be fine, but her word was kind of final, you know? Given the situation and all. Anyway, she promised she’d give you a call when it was all over.”
“So why are you the one calling me then?”
“Ouch, I’m hurt. I thought we were best friend roomies!” Maxwell said with a ton of dramatic flair. Drake could practically picture him clutching his shirt in mock pain.
“That’s not…” he started with an eye roll, “What I meant was, why isn’t Savannah calling me to share the news herself?”
“She… well… she had to be rushed back for an emergency c-section.”
“What?” Drake felt his heart rate pick up instantly, even though he knew in his mind that whatever had been the danger was likely resolved at this point.
“Yeah… I had stepped out to the hallway with Dad when they were checking to see how, er… dilated she was, when suddenly the midwife was calling out ‘Cord!’ and in an instant there were dozens of staff running into her room.”
“And you’re just now telling me?” Drake growled out. He felt Riley’s hand on his knee. He knew he should probably put the phone on speaker so that Riley could hear more than one half of this conversation, but he was too focused on not missing any details to risk pulling the phone away from his ear.
“It all happened so quickly. One second she was joking with me in between contractions, the next she was being wheeled out of the room and a nurse was explaining to Bertrand the gear he was going to have to put on to go into the OR. Before Dad and I could even figure out what was going on, Bertrand was back and told us it was a girl.”
“He left her alone during everything?”
“Apparently, the only risk was to the baby, not to Savannah, but since she was attempting natural labor, they had to knock her out, I guess? Anyway, he was with her when she woke up, holding their little girl. I don’t know, the details kind of went over my head, but everyone is happy and healthy now!”
Drake just let out a massive sigh as he ran a hand over his face. It was a lot to process, but he didn’t think Maxwell would have told him all this info and then lied about Savannah and the baby being okay. He sometimes still felt strange, choosing to live so far away from his sister and Liam. He knew it wasn’t rational. He had certainly been more supportive to Savannah through this pregnancy than her first since he actually knew she was pregnant this time, but part of him felt guilty anytime something major happened and he wasn’t right there.
They were thoughts he didn’t like bringing up with Riley, because he wasn’t sure how to phrase it so that it didn’t sound like he resented her for the fact that he lived in a different country. He just had this feeling it would come across that way, when that wasn’t how he felt at all. But trying to work through the storm of emotions that bubbled up whenever something major happened to his friends or family in Cordonia when Maxwell had called to just let him know he had a niece was probably not the wisest decision. So, he swallowed his emotions down and focused on the good news. His sister had a little girl and it sounded like everyone was fine now.
“Well, tell Savannah and Bertrand congratulations and that I’ll call them in the morning here, alright? And thanks for calling me to let me know.”
“Of course! It’s my duty as part of our uncle brotherhood!”
“Don’t think for a second I’m going to start using that phrase, Maxwell.”
“I’ll convince you yet; you’ll see.”
Drake just shook his head as he said, “Bye, Maxwell.”
“Bye, Drake. Send my love to Riley. And prepare for a barrage of photos from yours truly.”
Drake placed his phone on the couch next to him and let out a sigh before facing Riley. Her phone was now tucked away somewhere as she stared at him, eyes wide and full of concern.
“What happened?”
“Savannah had the baby. A little girl.”
“What had you upset?”
“There were some complications, but he says everything’s fine now.”
Riley snaked her arms around him and gave him a little squeeze. “I’m sure it is. Is he gonna send some pictures?”
Drake nodded, and Riley curled up fully next to him on the couch, leaning her head against his shoulder, waiting for the photos of his niece. Their niece. Kind of.
He glanced down at the ring on her left hand that rested on his knee. Not for the first time, he wondered if they made the right call postponing their wedding for Savannah’s sake. It didn’t feel fair, that Bertrand and Savannah had it all - married with two kids - while they had put plans on pause. And sure, both Savannah and Bertrand had thanked them profusely. But watching as they moved forward with their lives while he and Riley had to plan and save and budget all over again just left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Sometimes, it felt like he should have just told his sister just how insane her ask was. He and Riley would have been married for almost eight months by this point. Maybe they would be talking about starting their own family. But deep down, Drake knew that nothing good came from playing the “what if” game. So he tried to just soak in the moment, at peace and at home with Riley, taking in pictures of Savannah’s new baby. He was happy, his sister and her new baby were fine, and his life was steady. He couldn’t really ask for anything more, could he?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Riley kicked her legs against the exam table and tugged her sweatshirt a little closer as she checked the time on her phone again. Dr. Mehta wasn’t running that late, but Riley was just a little anxious about this appointment. When she’d called to schedule her next depo injection, she was surprised that she’d been booked for a longer appointment with Dr. Mehta herself, not Val, Dr. Mehta’s nurse. She wasn’t sure if something was wrong or why this was happening. All she knew is that she needed to get her depo before their trip to Cordonia. It would be too late to wait until she got back.
She knew Drake was excited to get back and see everyone, as well as meet his new niece, Caroline. But, truth be told, Riley always found it a bit strange being back in Cordonia, even more so now that Hana had moved to London full time. Even though she’d been a nobody in New York for over two years, she still got recognized every time she and Drake had been back there. Last visit, they’d somehow even attracted enough attention that The Ruby Rise, one of the tabloids there, had run a piece speculating they had come back to enter into some sort of thruple with Liam. The whole thing had been a total mind fuck. Being back just always felt a little bit like stepping into a time capsule or a portal to this very weird time period of her life, one where she ended up grabbing Drake and bolting for the exit as soon as she could.
She supposed that wasn’t an entirely fair comparison. After all, it’s not like she considered her time in Cordonia a negative one. For the most part, she’d had a fun experience, and most of her closest friends came from that time in her life. But it still felt weird, returning to the world of balls and galas and courtly politics where she’d been on her best behavior for months. Now that she wasn’t formally a part of that circle, she didn’t hold back from swearing or snarking when she was there. It always caught at least a few people off guard and fully scandalized Bertrand consistently. Olivia had remarked at Savannah and Bertrand’s wedding that the potty-mouthed, bitchy version she was finally fully seeing was somehow more and less annoying at the same time.
Two sharp knocks jolted Riley out of her thoughts. She turned her head to the exam room door as Dr. Mehta entered with a smile, a clipboard in her hand.
“Sorry about the wait,” she said with a smile as she plopped down on the stool by the desk and rolled over to sit in front of Riley. “And you don’t need to be up there if you don’t want to. We just need to chat.”
Riley frowned at that, but Dr. Mehta must have noticed that, because she let out a little chuckle. “Nothing bad, I promise! I just wanted to talk to you about your contraceptive options. Honestly, I should have brought this up at your appointment back in December. I just did my math wrong when I was reviewing your chart then.”
“I’m really happy on the depo, doctor.”
She gave Riley a little smile as she said, “And I’m glad. But unfortunately Depo Provera is only safe to use for two years. And we’ve reached that point.”
Riley felt a wave of panic rush through her. “I can’t go back on the pill! I was always terrible about remembering to take it.” It was the truth. Back years ago, she’d been awful about remembering to take her pill, and it was almost never at the same time of day.
“That’s fine. You aren’t my only patient who struggles with that, I promise. That’s why I wanted to talk about other long term options for you. I’m assuming no plans to try for pregnancy in the next couple of months?”
“God no!”
She laughed at that. “Just making sure! I think for you, either an IUD or an implant are going to be the best options.” She passed Riley a couple of pamphlets and went over the relevant details, side effects, and benefits.
“So, if you want to think about what you want and give my office a call in the next couple of days, we can get you in next week,” Dr. Mehta concluded.
Riley shook her head. “I’m traveling out of the country next week.”
Dr. Mehta tilted her head back and forth a couple of times, then checked her watch. “Well, I doubt we’ll be able to get you in for an IUD placement this week, but if you have a little time now, I can place an implant today.”
So, maybe a half hour later, Riley found herself walking out of the OBGYN office suite, a thick bandage wrapped around her bicep, pleased that she was set for birth control for the next few years. Not only was it one less thing to worry about, but it felt like the sort of thing a responsible adult did. After living so long with no consideration for the future, flying by the seat of her pants, diving into massive decisions without a second of thought, she knew that times like this, where she planned for her long-term, represented a decent amount of progress.
It was strange, in a way, to be consistently thinking about the future. For so long, her life had been just her scraping by, hoping to claw her way into a slightly better situation. Getting to go and live with her mother again when she was in a shitty foster home. Getting to go and live in a foster home when her mother relapsed hard or when she had a shitty, creepy dealer as a boyfriend. Getting a new job that would pay more. Always scrambling, never dreaming beyond her next move.
But now, she had a white collar job that paid her a college graduate salary, she had a nice apartment, and she lived with her dog and her fiancé. No one would guess that she’d lived off food stamps and free school lunches and had bounced around from couch to couch and then from foster home to foster home. She lived the life of a well-adjusted woman, and that meant considering the long-term, not just the short term. And today she’d done just that. She felt responsible and capable. It was a nice feeling.
She’d been all ready to brag about her very mature decision, but when she got back to their apartment, things were chaotic. Anderson was bouncing off the walls, and Drake was livid on the phone with the airline about their upcoming flight, so she took out the dog, and by the time she got back, Drake basically had dinner on the table. All thoughts about her birth control were pushed out of her mind through dinner and some heated hands of poker, until she was getting ready for bed that evening. She was tossing her sweatshirt into the hamper and Drake was by the dresser he’d painted lime green for her. As she got undressed, he caught sight of the bandage on her arm for the first time.
“Riley, what happened?” he asked, darting over, eyes locked on her left arm as he sank down on the edge of the bed to inspect it closer.
She couldn’t help but smile. His reaction was so predictable. “Nothing.”
“But your arm…” He gently traced his fingers over her bandage, as if he would find some evidence of some horrible injury on her, something he somehow missed and needed to correct.
“New birth control. Bandage comes off tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay.” He still seemed leery and continued his inspection of her arm. “Why’d you change? Was something wrong?”
Riley shrugged. “My doctor said that I had reached my limit for depo. Besides this one lasts three years. Seemed mad convenient.”
Drake’s fingers stopped their path with her words, his eyes jumping from the bandage up to her face. “Three years?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” He didn’t say anything else, just stood up, walked back to the dresser, and started rifling through his drawer.
“What?”
“It’s nothing, Liu.”
“Clearly it’s something,” she said, joining him by the dresser, forcing herself into his personal space until he made eye contact with her again. “You’ve never given a shit what I’ve done for birth control before. What’s up, Drake?”
He shook his head a little before returning to rifling through the drawer, flipping through old t-shirt after old t-shirt. “I told you - it’s nothing. Since you’re the one who has to deal with any side effects or whatever, it’s obviously your call. Have you seen my blue Cordonian football shirt?”
She let out a sigh. “Don’t change the subject.”
He took a moment before he responded, closing his eyes for just a second and taking a deep breath. “It’s stupid.” He opened his eyes again and gave his head a little shake, his eyes still glued on the drawer. “I just… I don’t know, I guess…”
“You want kids within three years.” She finished his thought for him, knowing without a doubt that was what he was struggling to tell her.
Drake finally looked up at her and shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I have a timeline or anything, but… I don’t know. Three years is a long ways off, you know?”
She did know. “I agree; a lot can change in three years. In fact, three years ago, you were just some rude asshole who clearly thought I was a crown chaser.”
He rolled his eyes at that before quipping back, “I just didn’t realize someone recklessly impulsive enough to hop on a private jet with a couple of guys she’d known for less than 24 hours could survive to be your age. It was really a compliment, me assuming you at least had a goal in mind.”
“When did you realize that I was just flying by the seat of my pants and clearly had no plan whatsoever?”
“When you told Olivia you were going to slap her. That degree of lack of diplomacy just can’t be found in someone who knows how to become queen.”
“But you still thought I was going to be queen at that point.”
“I mean, I just assumed you were going to stumble your way into the role, but do you really want to get into why I thought you would be queen?”
She shook her head, laughing lightly as she placed her hands on his chest and nudged him backwards to their bed, straddling his lap as he sat down on the end. “No, I think the less said there, the better. Besides, we both know I would have been the world’s shittiest queen.”
Drake opened his mouth to respond to that, but Riley didn’t give him a chance, leaning in and kissing him. After a moment, he deepened the kiss, sliding one hand to her shoulder and running another through her hair. But a few seconds later, he pulled back slightly, his hand sliding over the bandage on her arm. He stared at it, tracing his fingers over it again and again.
“It’s an implant, Drake. I can get it removed if for some reason we are ready for kids in two years or whatever,” Riley said, sliding her fingers under his chin, redirecting his eyes from that damn bandage back to her face. “It’s not a big deal, okay?”
He swallowed roughly, but then nodded. “Okay, Liu.” And then his lips were back on hers, his hands working under her tank top, sliding it up bit by bit. She rolled her hips down against him, ready to move on from their conversation. She could think of far more enjoyable ways to spend the rest of their evening than the minutiae of her birth control choices after all. And as they tumbled backwards onto their bed, she tried not to think about the fact that Drake avoided touching her left arm for the rest of the night.
Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @riley--walker @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5 @mfackenthal @thequeenofcronuts
The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @iaminlovewithtrr @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie
Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99
It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment: @shz256 @thequeenchoices @sunnyxdazed
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I was curious if Jimi Hendrix had ever played in Columbus, and it turns out that he did, one show in March 1968.
I found two stories about it, one in the Columbus Dispatch marking the 50th anniversary of the show, and this one, about Hendrix hanging out with one of the local support bands afterwards, and partying very wholesomely.
I. Love. This.
The night Jimi Hendrix partied with the Dantes in Linden
By Eric Lyttle, Editor, Columbus Monthly
Posted Mar 3, 2018 at 1:45 PM
Fifty years ago tonight, Jimi Hendrix was sitting on the floor inside a small, nearly empty house in Linden enjoying a post-concert glass of red wine. No, not London. Linden. As in the working class neighborhood of northeast Columbus.
Lynn Wehr doesn’t remember much about the show itself. Neither does Barry Hayden. The two were members of the Dantes, arguably the most popular local band in Columbus at the time. The Dantes served as the warmup act for Hendrix that night, March 3, 1968, at Vets Memorial Auditorium on West Broad Street, just across the Scioto River from City Hall.
Wehr, now 71 and living in Delaware County as a retired T. Marzetti Co. executive, thinks he watched the flamboyant rock guitarist from the side of the stage. “I don’t even remember what he played,” says Wehr. “I remember there was a cover or two. I believe he did ‘Hang On Sloopy.’ ”
Hayden says he couldn’t even see Hendrix. “I was stage left, between the second or third curtain,” says Hayden, now 70 and retired in Powell after arranging guided tours of the Ohio Statehouse for nearly 20 years. “I had a straight-on shot of Mitch Mitchell’s kick-drum foot. It was the fastest kick-drum foot I’d ever seen,” Hayden says of the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s drummer. “I watched that all night and couldn’t believe how he did it.”
But before the show and after—that they both remember.
Before the show, all the bands on the bill—including Soft Machine, progenitors of England’s prog-rock scene, and Four O’Clock Balloon, another local Columbus favorite—shared the same dressing room. Hayden, the Dantes’ boyish, blond heartthrob of a lead singer, remembers that he wore a silk scarf around his neck that night. When Hendrix entered the dressing room, he, too, was wearing a scarf. “But it was tied differently,” Hayden says. “I kept looking at it, trying to figure it out. I finally went over to him and asked him about it. He says, ‘You’re tying it like an American ties it.’ I did the crossover thing, like a necktie. He says, ‘Let me show you how the British tie it.’ And he showed me. And I tied it like Jimi forever after that. What the hell? If Jimi Hendrix says this is the way you’re supposed to do it, that’s the way you do it. It’s not open debate.”
After the scarf-tying lesson, Wehr, the Dantes’ rhythm guitarist, remembers, “Barry said, ‘Hey, we’re having a party afterward. Would you guys like to come?’ Mitch Mitchell and [Hendrix bass player] Noel Redding immediately said, ‘No.’ But Hendrix said, ‘Yes.’ We were like, ‘Wow. OK.’ ”
After the show, Wehr arranged to pick up Hendrix at the Christopher Inn, the city’s iconic cylindrical hotel on Broad Street, where the Experience was staying, and take him back to the house on Howey Road, a couple of blocks south of Hudson Street, that the Dantes used as a party house and rehearsal space.
“We get to the Christopher Inn—I think Jack White, the drummer for Four O’Clock Balloon was with me—and it’s late, probably after midnight, and there’s one guy at the desk,” Wehr says. “We told him we were there to pick up Jimi Hendrix. Here we were, a couple of guys in polka-dot pants and long hair. I’m sure we looked like groupies. And the guy at the desk says, ‘He’s not staying here.’ But we were like, ‘Look, we just were on the show with him at Vets, we told him we’d pick him up.’ We must have been convincing enough, because the guy picks up the phone and makes a call. Then he turns around, kind of sheepish like, and tells us, ‘He’ll be right down.’ ”
“Not five minutes later, the elevator doors open and out steps Hendrix, colorful, flowing clothes, a big hat with a big feather in it, completely dressed the part,” says Wehr.
Hendrix climbed in the passenger seat of the Dantemobile, a blue Chevy Caprice station wagon with “Dantes” in letters down the side. “We started down High Street, and when we got to campus, students were still out doing their thing,” says Wehr. “Every time we’d stop at a stop light, they’d see the Dantes car, turn and look and see Hendrix sitting in the passenger seat, and start running. The light would change and I’d speed away before they could catch us, until the next light, and the same thing would happen. We were like the Pied Piper, with kids running after us down High Street.”
The Dantes’ Howey Street house wasn’t much—nothing but a few mattresses thrown on the floor, egg cartons stapled to the walls of the basement to help muffle the sound during rehearsals. “We basically had nothing to offer him,” says Wehr. “We asked what he’d like, and he said he’d enjoy a glass of red wine. We all kind of looked at each other and thought, ‘What do we do now?’ Fortunately, one of the girls there said she lived close and could get a bottle. In short order, she came back with a bottle that she probably took from her parents. We sat around on the floor and talked and drank the bottle.”
“There were no drugs of any kind, nothing crazy,” Wehr says. “He was really soft-spoken, nice, mild-mannered—nothing like the guitar-burning wild man you’d see on stage. I think we just talked about music. He wasn’t put out. I think he genuinely wanted to be there. It was a scene.”
“After about an hour or so, he says, ‘Hey, I’ve really enjoyed being with you guys but have to get up early,’ ” Wehr says. “I think he had a gig in New York the next day. So we got in the car and I drove him back to the Christopher Inn.”
Both Wehr and Hayden say there was no idol worship—no photos, no autographs. They weren’t starry-eyed teens. They were in their early 20s, only a couple of years younger than Hendrix. They’d opened for other big names, had toured the country and had enjoyed their share of success. Their first single, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love,” had cracked the Billboard Top 40 nationally and had become the No. 1 song in the Columbus market in 1966, pushing ”(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration” by the Righteous Brothers off the mark.
“I looked at it like we were all peers,” says Hayden. “It was another gig. We were happy about it for sure, because we liked him. But we basically had the same clothes, the same gear.”
They thought it would last forever. It didn’t. Within two years, Hendrix was dead of an overdose, and the Dantes were done. “I realize now, in later years, it was a big deal. It’s cool. I’m glad I get to talk about it now,” says Hayden. “But I miss it. It’s not the same now as it was. I liked it better then. I feel bad for anybody who didn’t grow up when we did. Being a teenager was just about the best thing you could be. We ruled. To be truthful, if you brought a time machine to my house, I’d set it for 1964 and leave right now.”
I wanted to include a link to the venue, but the old Vet’s Memorial has since been demolished to make way for a brand new national Vet’s museum on the same spot, and that’s mostly what I’m finding. But! Here’s an interesting article (with a picture) about the politics behind tearing down what was a pretty major landmark in Columbus to make way for the new building.
And! To make a long post longer, the shows before and after Columbus on that tour; from setlist.fm:
March 2, 1968: Hunter College Assembly Hall, New York, NY (two shows)
March 3, 1968: Veterans Memorial Auditorium, Columbus, OH
March 4, 1968: Paul's The Scene, New York, NY
March 5, 1968: Paul's The Scene, New York, NY
Looking over his entire concert schedule, he must have been exhausted. I hope he enjoyed hanging out with a local band for a little while, just drinking a little wine and talking. He probably needed it. :-(
#Jimi Hendrix#The Dantes#there's so much about this that I love#and so much that is sad#his manager was a jackass and a half#Columbus#Columbus Ohio#a rare non-Brian post#a rare non-Queen post
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flowers of the heart // toko fukawa x sayaka maizono (dr1) -pt.1
description: hanahaki disease is my new favourite thing... here’s a story set in a non despair future, featuring flower shop worker sayaka and book shop worker toko. this is, naturally, part 1.
word count: 2.4k
content warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of a stabbing, mentions of obsessive fan culture
❀❀❀
Sayaka opens the flower shop at six o’clock every morning. At the time, the world is quiet; the world is her own. Nothing there but her hands reaching for the keys, and placing them in the lock, opening, what seems to be, what is for her, a little door into her own world. A place of serenity and tranquillity. A place of flowers.
The smell hits Sayaka as soon as she walks in. Whoever worked yesterday forgot to remove the lilies that are perched on the shelf above the counter – but it isn’t a big deal, she’s not upset. Everyone makes mistakes. Besides, the reason she arrives this early is so that she can take care of it all, make it all perfect.
She sets down her bag, taking care to lean it against the umbrella rack so that it doesn’t fall over, lest its contents slip out. She takes her apron off the hook behind the counter and puts it on – it’s not always necessary, but pollen is bright and stains clothes easily, the one from lily stamens especially so. Her hands reach up for the plant, secured in a colourful earthen pot, and bring it down with practiced ease. No dirt on the floor today, thank you, she thinks, smiling to herself at this small victory. She carries the plant pot outside, towards the compost bins where she removes the wilting lilies and their soil – once the pride of the shop, now just another piece of the gloom. Just like me… she thinks, the words sinking in before she can stop herself. It’s not entirely true, but it’s not entirely false either. Between the ages of sixteen and twenty, she’d been an idol. And not just any idol – the most popular idol in the country, with fame overseas too. She’d led her group to success, her angelic voice and sweet image attracting the best offers, the best opportunities. But it had all stopped. A member died in stabbing – a crazed fan taking things too far, and suddenly Sayaka had seen all the downsides of this career she’d chosen. Could you even choose something like a career at sixteen, truly? Sayaka doubted it. But how jarring the realisation had been. Idol professions don’t last forever – you are an hourglass, a ticking clock, waiting until the hour, the minute, when someone with too much time zooms in on a photo of you posted on a forum and comments ‘Is that a wrinkle?’.
No, Sayaka had thought. I shan’t let it happen. So she terminated her contract and stared at what was left of her life. No relatives – her father had died in car crash, driving while inebriated. No friends – she wasn’t on the best terms with her idol label mates, presumably because of her success. No qualifications – Sayaka had passed middle school with excellent grades, but had no high school diploma or other qualifications to show for herself. And no money – other than what she’d made as an idol which, after paying off the contract, was significantly less than she’d thought it was. She’d been so scared, so overwhelmed, so stuck. She had considered going back to her label, her agency, and begging them to take her back. But she hadn’t. She wanted something new, a fresh start. Something sustainable.
Being forgotten about when you’re an idol is surprisingly, or unsurprisingly easy. A few weeks of not leaving her home, a few interviews with leaders of idol companies, the debut of a few new groups… It was over. She’d ventured out of her home, not accosted by anyone, and seen less than four posters depicting her likeness. It was over.
When she got home that day, she cried for the first time in years. She wasn’t sure what she was crying for – what she’d lost? But that could be anything; her father, her idol friend, her job… And she’d gained nothing but the crushing realisation that she had nothing but her labour, her skill. And what skill was that? A decent singing voice and a cute image? Nothing that would help her now, surely. So she’d signed up for an online course – nothing special, just a high school level diploma. And, she’d thought to herself, feeling oriented for the first time in months, If I have that, I’ll have something.
Sayaka shakes herself out of her thoughts. She’s not this lily, she works at this flower shop, and it’s going to open soon. Seven twenty-five AM on the dot. She takes the pot back inside and places it in the store room. A vase is plucked from the shelf, filled with water and some long stem roses she cut yesterday – she was intending on drying them out, to use for either décor or to make tea, but they’d make a beautiful centre piece for the shop, and that’s what is needed now. She rearranges more things in the shop – her hands flit and fly with dexterity – the closest she’d ever gotten to this level of hand activity before was playing the piano, and even then her hands had felt clumsy. But now here she is, ordering the hanging vines about and making the shop resemble a little fairy’s store. She’s proud, and she clings on to the feeling, unwilling to let it escape. ‘Stay with me,’ she mutters softly, the words escaping without her notice. Stay with me.
In forty minutes, the store is done – Sayaka’s always pleased with her work, but today there’s a little more pride to be had. She’s added a new alcove, at the behest of her employer, which boasts a small collection of handmade teas. It had been easy to convince her hirer that this would be a prosperous venture – she’d simply suggested it, and he’d agreed. Maybe when he saw her he was reminded by all the other ways she’d ameliorated the shop – at first taking on this seemingly underqualified girl might have been an act of kindness, but now she was a part of the shop, as integral to it as its flowers. I’m proud, Sayaka thinks again, as she walks to the greenhouse. And what a wonderful feeling it is.
The greenhouse and the store room are both attached to the main room, the shop. The two doors on different sides lead to entirely different environments. The store room was cold and dry, filled with jars, vases and all manner of other things. Things that you needed for flowers, but were only half as pretty. Things flowers needed to survive, despite the lack of the item’s supposed beauty. And the greenhouse? Why, it was simply the most wonderful thing Sayaka had ever seen, all streaming sunlight and green tinged reflections, beautiful flowers that took her breath away every time she entered, sitting there paused. They looked so lifelike somehow – as if they would start talking as soon as she left. If I could, I’d never leave, thought Sayaka. And although she would have to leave soon – ten minutes to store opening, according to her watch, she’d could sit her a little while at least.
//
‘Hi, how can I help you? Maybe Sayaka had been wrong when she’d assumed that her skills as an idol wouldn’t come in handy here. The current customer was looking significantly more at ease than he had earlier, and that was saying something. As he explained the flowers he was looking for, a timid looking woman entered the store, the tense expression on her face changing softly into something akin to awe. It was a nice change to see, Sayaka thought. The woman looked much better without the scowl marring her features, and she had to force herself to return her focus to the customer’s words as the new person reached up to brush her fingers upon a jasmine flower.
‘Sure! And will that be all?’ The man said it was, and left the store, his coat trailing behind him, and finally, finally, Sayaka could turn her full attention to the new customer, the woman, without it being in the name of personal curiosity and instead being professional attendance.
‘Hello! What can I help you with?’ asked Sayaka, smiling gently to this person who seemed so sensitive, so easily affected by her surroundings. The reply was a murmur that she couldn’t quite hear. She caught the words smiling, and idiot, which did not bode well. But Sayaka wasn’t to get upset over that. She tried again. ‘Sorry, can you repeat that?’ At her statement, the woman seemed to come into herself, straightening out and making brief eye contact with her, before clearing her own throat.
‘Um, I was, um, wondering if you had any flowers that might be good with children?’ The woman had a pretty voice, low and soft – it made you quiet, made you want to listen. And want to listen Sayaka did.
‘Of course! I’m sure I can pick out something suitable. Do you have any children, Miss?’ Sayaka asked. I’m prying, she reprimanded herself. I’m prying and I shouldn’t be.
‘What?! No, of course not! How could you even…’ The response was exclaimed with so much surprise, that if it weren’t for the glaringly genuine (and just… glaring) expression on the woman’s face, she’d have thought she was acting.
‘O-okay. I’m sorry, truly.’ Sayaka replied sincerely, bowing slightly and hoping that she hadn’t upset the woman, who has now holding her single braid in her hands, and running her fingers on it roughly.
‘Seriously,’ the woman responded, sounding exasperated. ‘I only came here because it was the closest. If I knew it was also like… this, I wouldn’t have!’
‘Closest to where?’ Sayaka questioned. Silly girl. You don’t know what’s good for you.
‘What? Closest to my bookstore, of course. That’s where I work. We don’t treat our customers like this, though.’
We’ve slipped out of our roles, Sayaka thought. We’ve slipped out of our roles as employee and customer. But still, she couldn’t reign herself in. Why couldn’t she?
‘Oh, the bookstore! I know where you’re speaking of! Your seasonal displays are always beautiful…’
‘Wait, seriously? Are you… are you being genuine? You’re not making fun, are you?’
How did she even come to that conclusion? thought Sayaka. ‘Of course not!’ She lifted her hands in what she hoped was a placating gesture. ‘Honest!’
‘Oh…’ The look on the woman’s face was almost… disappointed? Did she genuinely think I was being mean? ‘Well, thank you. Sorry for jumping to conclusions, I guess.’ And then another comment, mumbled under her breath. ‘I like your displays too.’
‘Really?!’ Sayaka exclaimed, almost pouncing on the words. The woman flinched once, then twice, as Sayaka took her hands and held them in her own. ‘Thank you, thank you!’
‘God, what’s with you…’ said the woman, looking abashed and extricating her own hands.
‘Sorry, sorry….’ said Sayaka gently, before making a decision. She put out her right hand and looked the woman in the eye, making her facial expression stern and professional. ‘I’m Sayaka Maizono’
‘Jeez, why…. ugh.’ The woman seemed to make up her mind and put out her own, and as the shook she said ‘I’m Toko Fukawa. There, I’m not repeating it.’
Toko Fukawa… The name ruminated in Sayaka’s mind and she tried to place it. It sounds familiar…. someone I knew when I was an idol? She took another glance at the woman’s face. No, I would have remembered her… So I know her name but I haven’t seen her face? What sort of person… And then came the realisation, quick and lucid. A bookstore. Someone who’s name you knew but face you didn’t. ‘Oh my god.’
‘What? Are my hands sweaty?’ The words were accompanied by a tug, an attempt to take back her hand which was now clenched between two of Sayaka’s – the other had not been deliberate but it was there, holding down deftly.
‘Oh my god.’ Sayaka said again.
‘Seriously, is that all you can say? You’re gaping like a goldfish!’
At this, Sayaka shut her mouth, but didn’t release her hands. ‘You’re Toko Fukawa!’
‘I literally just told you that? What is wrong with this girl?’
‘But you’re like… famous! You wrote ‘So Lingers the Ocean’… you’re like my favourite author!’
‘Why are you so surprised? Are you upset? It’s only natural you would be, after seeing me… It turns out your favourite author doesn’t look the way you expected and you’re disgusted. It’s palpable.’
‘No! I mean… Miss Fukawa… I’m just very happy to meet you.’
‘Oh. Well thanks, I guess. And just Toko is fine.’
‘Cool! You can call me Sayaka, then.’
‘Okay…. Sayaka.’
Why is my heart beating so fast? Oh my god she said my name. Toko Fukawa said my name. Wait am I still holding her hand? Okay, stop doing that. Calm down. Flowers. She wanted flowers.
‘I’m going to get you your flowers, okay? Carnations are good long stem flowers for children – no thorns, but peonies and pansies are better for planting. You know windowsills, and all that? Do you have a preference?’
‘Um, pansies would be good. We need them for the children’s reading corner at the bookstore.’
‘Okay! I’ll be sure to choose plenty of bright colours, okay?’ Sayaka quelled her nerves and went ahead, choosing flowers that she thought would evoke joy from children. Vibrant colours and gentle smells that you weren’t likely to be intolerant to. When she’d selected what she deemed enough – and glanced over and saw Fukawa’s nod, she proceeded to the counter and began to package them gently. Perhaps she should have chosen something with a bit more resilience? No, these were a good choice, she reassured herself. Besides, Toko was happy, and wasn’t that what mattered? Customer satisfaction? Customer satisfaction, or the satisfaction of this customer? said a voice in her mind, tinged with cruelty. She inwardly told it to shut up.
‘Alright, here are your flowers! That’ll be two thousand yen.’ Sayaka said, waiting patiently as Toko took a plain black purse from her pocket and check for notes. Sayaka thought of her own purse, light pink with blue stripes, not to mention covered with stickers and blushed with shame. As she took the money, and Toko turned for the door, the thing she wanted to say made itself visible in her mind. Say it! Say it! ‘Hope to be seeing you again!’
Toko turned gently and looked in her direction before leaving. If she noticed the difference in the way she and the customer before her had been addressed, she didn’t comment on it.
❀❀❀
#my writing#danganronpa: trigger happy havoc#sayaka maizono#toko fukawa#fukazono#sorry i don't know their ship name! i'm trying....#non despair au#flower shop au#book shop au#hanahaki disease#flower gore#flowers of the heart
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I was tagged by @its-chelisey-stuff (WE LITERALLY JUST KNEW EACH OTHER BECAUSE OF MORE THAN FRIENDS)
1. What is the colour of your hairbrush? I don’t have a hairbrush but I have a comb 🤷♀️🤷♀️
2. Name a food you never eat. Seafood because of allergies. I can eat fish and crabs though. Basically anything that stores sea water (apart from fish).
3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? IT’S ALWAYS TOO HOT HERE. I miss the UK where I can just layer up if it gets too cold.
4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? I just woke up 😂😂
5. What’s your favourite candy bar? Are there candy bars which are not chocolate???
6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? Does esports count? I went to Kuala Lumpur DotA 2 Major in 2018. Otherwise, I didn’t go to any.
7. What is the last thing you said out loud? “I’m printing it!”
8. What is your favourite ice cream? Strawberry. Life is already bitter as is.
9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Tea. I just had breakfast.
10. Do you like your wallet? Indifferent.
11. What was the last thing you ate? Fried rice. Not Uncle Roger’s style because I am not Chinese.
12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? Big fat nope.
13. What was the last sporting event you watched? DotA 2 online tournament. I have a team I have been supporting since I started watching it in 2015 and their game started really late last night (time zone thing)
14. What is your favourite flavor of popcorn? Just the plain one.
15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to? I texted my friend (whom I managed to make him watch his first kdrama) from school to prepare a box of tissue before watching episode 15 of More than Friends.
16. Ever been camping? Camping was an annual thing back in my primary school.
17. Do you take vitamins? I don’t go out under the sun, if that’s what you mean. But no, I don’t take supplements because I am too lazy.
18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? Not since the pandemic.
19. Do you have a tan? At this rate, I call it sunburn. But I haven’t gone out much (apart from going to work as and when needed, groceries, and taking my car for a spin) since the pandemic so the tan line is becoming fader.
20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza? Pineapple on pizza. Sue me!
21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? I pour it into a glass and drink it like a champ. But I also try to reduce single-use plastics in my daily life.
22. What colour of socks do you usually wear? Black is always the safe option (yes it tells a lot about my personality huh)
23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Yes, but only where the speed limit is stupidly too low. Otherwise, I rarely drive above 100 km/h.
24. What terrifies you? The list is too long, it should probably be a separate post. I project my issues on the shows that I watch so every now and then you would see me analysing characters or incidents while projecting my issues.
25. Look to your left, what do you see? A broken mirror (in my bedroom), just the perfect metaphor for my twisted perspectives in life.
26. What chore do you hate most? Scrubbing the toilet.
27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Please talk slowly so I can understand you (also applicable to any other languages tbh).
28. What’s your favorite soda? Carbonated lemonade.
29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I prefer hitting the Drive Thru so I can eat my food in front of my laptop in peace.
30. What’s your favourite number? 3 and its first 3 multiples
31. Who was the last person you talked to? My brother, when I passed him the printed material he asked me to print early in the morning for his chess coaching session (he’s a chess coach, yes).
32. Favourite meat? Chicken, because it’s the easiest to be eaten.
33. Last song you listened to? Late Regret by Ong Seong Wu (More than Friends OST). I even listened to the 1-hour loop on YouTube while editing my screencaps last night. And it took longer than the editing process so I also listened to the video with hangul and English lyrics afterwards. I am more comfortable with hangul than the romanisation so I guess my pathetic Korean lessons paid off.
34. Last book you read? I can’t even remember the last time I read a book. Probably mid last year?
35. Favourite day of the week? Saturday.
36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? Haven’t tried 🤷♀️🤷♀️
37. How do you like your coffee? Latte. But I am not a coffee drinker and only started drinking occasionally this year due to the amount of work I had to put in during the first half of this year (yes, even during the pandemic)
38. Favourite pair of shoes? I only have 2 pairs of shoes to even have any favourite. 1 pair for work and another for casual wear.
39. Time you normally get up? Half past 6 if I have to go to the office. Otherwise, I’ll wake up for morning prayer and continue sleeping until half an hour before I have to clock in. On weekends, I continue sleeping until closer to 10 o’clock. If I stayed up the night, probably closer to noon.
40. Which do you prefer, sunrise or sunset? Sunset all the way, because it’s the beginning of my favourite time of the day. Yes, I’m a vampire who loves the night. I also love necks
41. How many blankets on your bed? One and only. It’s too hot to wear even a thin blanket but it gets cold around 3 am so I have to be prepared.
42. Describe your kitchen plates. I like the design of Portmeirion table set from the early 2000s.
43. Describe your kitchen at the moment. It’s not photography material, but it’s not dirty or messy or anything.
44. Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? I don’t drink.
45. Do you play cards? No. I don’t play anything that requires other people to join me (yes, I am a lone ranger).
46. What colour is your car? The Nissan partner and distributor in my country calls it Dark Metal Grey. It does look nice.
47. Can you change a tire? I can, but I wouldn’t. With free towing service, why should I bother?
48. Your favourite state or province? I was practically born and raised here so I cannot pick a favourite.
49. Favourite job you’ve had? I would say my previous job, because our team had a fantastic working relationship, and everyone was crazy enough to entertain my antics as the maknae.
tagging: @kdramastuff (I know you don’t do this stuff but I just wanna tag you :p) @becausenothingtodo @aromaticcedarwood @dramaintherain @dohyunsoo @kuronekonerochan @park-joonyoung @psalm40speakstome @myechoecho @ambedoanxiety @outside-seoul (that is 10 tags right because I only tag the first one to annoy her :ppp)
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