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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 3 years ago

Text

Love Letters

I have no idea how this turned out, I opened a word doc, blacked out and ended up with this.

Master List

~~ “I would write you poems until my hands worked no more. Would play you music until my fingers bled. Shakespeare himself would have to rise from his tomb to stop me writing you sonnets. No words will ever convey the love which spills from my heart, but I will try to do so every day.” Johnny reads the letter loud, a smile on his face as he looks over at you. You’re certain your face conveys the sheer horror you’re feeling, and judging from the laughter that bubbles from him, it does. You’re frozen in the doorway of your own dorm room, staring at the man lounging in your desk chair, the man who’d just found your second best kept secret. “So, how much does it cost to get one of these letters?”

“What are you doing?” His eyebrow hikes up at your question, and he gestures to the stacks of envelopes and the typewriter sitting on your desk.

“You’re the one writing all the love notes around campus right? What if I want to send one to someone?” You blink at him a few times, still in shock, but step into the room properly and shut the door.

“How’d you find out about this? Who told you?” You question, dropping your backpack on the floor and crossing your arms over your chest. He mimics your pose, though still in your chair.

“Who said anyone told me?” He challenges, “I figured it out.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been doing this for almost two years and no one’s been the wiser. The only people that know are my customers, so who told you?” He’s silent for a moment, not pretending not to size you up. You can feel your heartbeat in your chest, and part of you wants to celebrate having your crush alone in your dorm room, but the other part of you remembers he’s here for a love letter, not you.

“Are you going to stop writing for them if I tell you?”

“Maybe, or maybe I’ll just revoke their long term customer pricing. Who was it?”

“Yuta.” Your eyes roll automatically at the name, you should have known it was him.

“Of course it was. Did he refer you, or did he just tell you?” Johnny shrugs, clearly loving how annoyed you’re getting.

“Maybe both. You haven’t answered my question.”

“One time letters to someone are 25, self letters are 35. If you’re wanting a long term contract it depends on the frequency of the letters, contents and subject.” You finally relent, trying not to let the disappointment cloud your voice.

“What’s the most expensive contract you have?” You motion for him to get out of your chair, which he shockingly does, so you can grab your clientele binder and find your contract sheets. He flops down on your bed while you work, watching you flick through the almost shockingly thick binder.

“Someone pays me 75 dollars every other month to write three page long letters to send to his girlfriend overseas.” You tell him, pulling out a contract, “This contract is legal, by the way, I had a friend of mine in law school draft it. I only write the letters, I don’t deliver them and I am not responsible for the reaction of the recipient. You can’t get me in legal trouble if things backfire, nor can you demand a refund. You cannot ask for personal information about other clients, and no I won’t tell you if you’re giving a letter to someone who is already receiving letters. Any questions?” You finally look up from your contract, locking eyes with the boy sitting on your bed.

“Would you handwrite a letter for me, or is it typewriter only?”

“I try not to handwrite letters, just in case someone might recognize my handwriting.” He smiles again, and you have to look away, trying not to blush. God, how did you get so unlucky? When you had started writing these letters, it was because of your crush on Johnny. Your roommate freshman year had found a letter you’d never planned to send and asked if you would write one for her to give to the girl she liked. From there, your little business blossomed, and now you had upwards of 30 clients, all paying you to write about Johnny without knowing.

“Do I have to tell you who my letter is for?”

“Nope, all you have to tell me is whether you know them personally or not, and if there’s something about them you want me to talk about.” You drop your binder on the desk, turning to face him once more. “I’ll also need your contact info, phone number or email preferably. I take cash, venmo, and cashapp, you have to pay before your first letter, and if you make it a long term thing, then you pay upon receiving the letter.” He nods, his lower lip sticking out slightly.

“OKay, lets do one letter for now, and depending on their reaction, we’ll see about sending more.”

“No problem, just fill this out for me, and we’ll get started.” You pass him the contract and a clipboard to write on. “For the first letter, I always have my clients tell me about the person they’re wanting me to write about, that way if you meet face to face, the letters still sound like you.”

“What’s your major again?”

“Psychology, with an English Lit minor.”

“Makes sense.” The two of you are quiet for a moment while he fills out the form, and you take the chance to package some letters, ironically, one was for Yuta, who was definitely getting a scolding when he came to pick it up. “Alright here.” You don’t look at him, only extend your hand for him to place it in. You can feel him watching you as you finish up your work, marking who still has to pay for your work. “So, have you ever written a letter for someone, like from you?”

“Yes and no.” You weren’t sure why you even answered.

“What do you mean?” You sigh, putting your papers away so you can move the typewriter front and center.

“Every letter I write is about the person I like, that’s how it started.” You explain, “Yeah, it sounds like I’m writing about someone else, but it’s always about him.”

“Ever had to write one for him?” You can tell he’s actually interested in this, but you shake your head, not wanting to talk about it more.

“Don’t worry about my love life, Johnny, lets work on yours.” You grab a notebook, spinning to face him, ready to take notes. “Tell me about your person.”

If you told me you were Eros, I would believe you. From the moment I saw you, the arrow of love had pierced my heart and rendered it useless to all others. Were you a god, I would be your most devoted priest. My lips would sing your prayers and praises until there was no oxygen left at your altars. Your mind rivals that of Shakespeare and Einstein, and I wish on every star that one day I may be privy to your innermost thoughts. Your eyes hold the universe, and your hands: my heart. You fill my dreams, and soothe my nightmares. Had I an ounce more courage, I would say these words to your face, but in truth, no words could accurately depict the love I have for you. It bubbles from my heart, courses through my veins and clouds my mind. I would give you the world, the moon and all the stars in the sky if you only asked, but now I can only give you this letter and hope you will not think ill of me. Yours ever, Johnny

“Here, all done.” Johnny barely has the chance to knock on your door the following day before you’re shoving the lilac envelope in his hands. “It’s not super long, but it’s pretty expressive, if you want more just let me know, I hope they like it.” You don’t give him the chance to reply, instead just shut the door and try not to start crying instantly. Every word you had said was true, and he was about to give it to some rando. You wanted to cancel every other letter people had asked for, so tired of writing about a love you couldn’t have. A knock on your door makes you huff, just wanting to lay down for a while. “What?” You demand, swinging the door open to find Johnny still standing there. He holds the envelope out to you, his other hand deep in his pocket.

“Here.”

“Do you not like it? I can rewrite it.” You offer, hesitating to take it. No one had ever hated what you’d written, to say it was a bit of an ego crusher was an understatement.

“No. No it’s amazing, its everything I wanted to say. You did an amazing job.” He extends his hand again, not looking you in the eye. “But its for you.”

“What?”

“When I learned it was you-” He huffs, “Look, I’ve had a thing for you since English 101. You’ve always been super smart and gorgeous, but I’ve been too scared to say anything cause you were always writing these sweet things, and I figured they’re for someone else, so I didn’t want to pressure you into something. But I might not get accepted into my Masters and I didn’t want to leave without saying-”

“Johnny.” He stops speaking the second you say his name, his eyes snapping up to yours. Your face is warm, and you can feel your eyes watering.

“What’s wrong?”

“You.” The bewilderment on his face is almost funny.

“Me?”

“Yes you. Every single letter I’ve ever written has been about you. Even this one. I wrote you a love letter only to have it be for me.” You can’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

“Wait, really?” He’s laughing a little as well.

“Yes you idiot. I’ve been so scared Yuta had told you, I was even gonna go cry once you left.” You admit, wiping at the tears that were falling.

“Oh no, don’t cry.” He pulls you close to his chest, his head resting on yours. “Let me take you for lunch. Then maybe you can tell me some of those sweet things you’re always writing about me.” You both laugh at this, pulling away from him.

“Don’t think I’m going to let this ruin my business, Johnny Suh, I’ve still got to pay for my coffee habits.”

“Only if I get to read the letters first.”

“Deal.”

“And I get to see your client list.”

“Not a chance.”

#johnny suh imagines #johnny suh imagine #johnny suh #johnny nct #nct johnny #nct imagine #nct imagines

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planetesastraea · 4 years ago

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On the tip of his fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU - Mature - 6 277 words - Warnings: none

First meetings, himbo Geralt, bisexual Geralt (even if he’s just finding out), bottom Geralt (that too), top Jaskier, first time, handjobs, banter, praise kink, consent kink

Betaed by Micaela Dawn: she’s a wonderful artist and beta, check out her work!

Read on AO3

The bar was oddly crowded for a Wednesday night and Geralt was trying his best to not look as out of place as he felt. He had to be there, were Yen's words. And once Triss and Sabrina heard he was trying to get out of the team’s celebratory night out, his fate had been sealed.

"You deserve this too," Yen had said. “You’ve been working your ass off as much as we’ve all been and you deserve to blow off some steam.”

“I can blow off some steam at home.”

“Playing Skittles-stake Gwent with our teenage daughter doesn’t count. Also you promised you’d spend more time with the team outside of work-”

“I actually never agreed to that,”

“-so you’re coming.”

And so here he was, wearing one of his black button down shirts and a comfortable pair of jeans with an empty beer bottle in his hand, making casual conversation over the slightly too-loud music and praying to the highest powers that the girls wouldn’t try to get him to dance. Triss and Yen had met him in front of the bar to make sure he wouldn’t turn away once he had a look inside the place. As soon as he had been close enough, Triss had reached a hand out to his collar, making a tsk sound.

“What are we going to do with you, hm?”, she had whispered to herself as she had opened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled his collar a little wider.

“Hey, be gentle,” Yen had cut in softly. “At least he lost the tie.”

They had cackled in unison as he rolled his eyes, yet unable to fake annoyance as a smile drew itself on his lips. With one of the women clinging to each of his arms, the three of them comfortably slid together as they walked into the place.

He liked being around them. Over the years things had been several levels of complicated and then some, but the three of them had found their pace eventually. Triss and Yen liked to mock him and he liked to act dumber than he actually was- well, most of the time. His social skills still didn’t reach that high.

As it turned out, you could learn a lot about people by staying at the office several nights in a row working a gigantic case, taking turns on who would get to doze off for twelve minutes on the couch and who was to blame for the soy sauce on page 86 of the Claremont contract. And damn did Triss and Yen know him well. Which was why they had dutifully waited for him outside the bar. Claiming he looked for them but gave up because of how packed the place was would definitely have been among his top three excuses to go back home and relieve Eskel of his Uncle duties. (Both he and Ciri would have been terribly disappointed and that was about 75% of the reasons why he had made it to the party).

They had been here for a couple of hours now, had done a good amount of talking and heard some more-than-other alright bands take to the stage. One of the junior associates further away from him called “Hey, here’s Sabrina!!” and Geralt turned towards the sound of Sabrina’s voice going “You guys are not going to believe this!” when something, or, well, someone, slammed right into him.

“Owww, holy shit I’m so sorry, you alright?”

The man was carrying two pints that had probably been full to the brim before he collided with Geralt. Luckily most of what spilled had hit the floor (he didn't need a repeat of the 2017 "Wet-Shirt Contest Winner" from when a sink pipe had blown up in the men's room. Lambert had walked in, taken a thousand pictures and emailed memes to the whole floor for weeks).

Geralt’s shoes had been fairly sticky with booze already so it wasn't much trouble.

“I’m fine,” he said and that’s when he noticed the other man had come to a full stop, eyes locked on him intently, lips slightly parted. The eyeliner around his eyes was a bit smeared and Geralt recognized him as one of the singers from earlier.

“That you are,” he murmured in a low tone, almost to himself. Geralt blinked.

“Yes. I am,” he said back louder in hope to maybe clear out the odd look on the other man’s face. Just because he was tall, well-built and, well, apparently, somewhat broody, people expected him to get pissed at the slightest things.

“I’m Julian," the guy said and Geralt smiled politely, unsure why the stranger would introduce himself.

“Geralt,” he replied at the same time Julian went “But you can call me Jaskier!” and then “I’m sorry, what was that?”

It was like his words were running faster than his thoughts.

“Geralt. My name is Geralt,” he repeated.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Geralt.” Jaskier’s lips rose to one side and he tilted his head slightly. Geralt was way more used to people trying to avoid looking at him, he had his unusual colored eyes to thank for that. They were easily disturbing and while people didn't always show discomfort, they at least showed restraint. Jaskier didn't have an ounce of it and Geralt had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

“Can I get you another drink?” Jaskier blurted out.

“Mine was already empty. That’s your drink on the floor,” Geralt replied as the other man chuckled, eyes looking down briefly.

“Right,” he raised his eyes and licked his lips. “Offer still stands. Can I get you another drink?”

“Hm,” Geralt said, his well-known wording skills kicking in. “My friends are-” he turned around thinking he’d find Anica and Tiff where he had left them only to realise they had disappeared among the crowd. In the far back he recognized Triss and Yen dancing on a table like nothing in the world could stop them and any back-up plan he was about to use evaporated.

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, eyes twinkling. Give other people a chance, Yen’s voice said in Geralt's head and the line of his shoulders softened. Jaskier’s eyes hadn’t moved from him for even a second. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

“Sure,” Geralt aimed for a neutral tone but sounded nervous even to his own ears. The other man’s smile widened.

They found two empty stools that felt oddly closer than those in Geralt’s bars usually were - but then again most of Geralt’s bars were hotel lobbies on work trips or the kind where he could take a whole bottle for himself and sit in a corner where no one would dare bother him. (He hadn't been in one of those in a while. He didn’t miss it.)

Jaskier set an ale in front of him and Geralt faintly wondered who it was originally destined for.

“So what are you doing here tonight? I’ve never seen you around,” Jaskier started.

“Celebrating,” he said, in a voice that hardly sounded celebratory.

“Is it your birthday?”

“No,” he replied, vaguely gesturing to his group of friends who were lost to the crowd, “with colleagues. We closed in on a deal."

"What kind of business do you work in?" The other man seemed way more interested in learning about Geralt than actually drinking the ale. Geralt shrugged, a wordless version of his usual ‘hm’.

“All of them. We're a law firm.”

“Oh! Well, congrats by the way!" Jaskier said and then leaned in and using a secretive tone he added, "I mean, you didn’t help a dangerous criminal get away with it, did you?”

Geralt grimaced and prepared himself to lose Jaskier’s interest in his job entirely.

“Not that kind of lawyers.”

“What kind, then?”

“Corporate.”

To his surprise, Jaskier kept nodding.

“So what was the deal about? Please tell me you’re the kind of firm on David’s side and not on Goliath's.”

“It’s rarely as straightforward as that,” Geralt mused and took a drink of his ale.

Jaskier hummed softly.

“What was this one anyway?”

“I can’t disclose any details,” he hedged and Jaskier chuckled.

“Oh, you can’t disclose any details, can you?” he leaned again, this time his arm and shoulder pressing against Geralt's.

“No, I can’t,” Geralt articulated again to make sure Jaskier would hear him. Music rarely ever left anyone’s hearing intact after a few years, maybe that was why the man kept leaning closer.

“Anything I’ll hear about on the news?”

“The local ones, maybe.”

“Well aren't you a man of mystery.” Their shoulders bumped again. Geralt didn't remember at which point he had rolled up his sleeves but his forearms felt oddly comfortable being that close to someone else's skin. It had been a while since he had even given thought to someone else's skin.

There was still a band playing on the stage out of his sight, a crowd surrounding them, people all along the bar calling for the bartender’s attention, noises and lights everywhere and yet, somehow, in the ocean of stimuli, his attention was focused on Jaskier.

"Maybe I should take your number then?" Jaskier said, wriggling an eyebrow. "As legal counsel. For when law enforcement catches up with me."

“What would they catch you for?” he asked, willing to take the bait.

“Oh, there’s quite the list,” Jaskier said. “I’m afraid I have a rather criminal past. There’s the illegal bus riding, parking in client-only spots,” he counted on his fingers, adding each theatrically. “I once shook a vending machine to get my chocolate bar and got a second one I didn’t pay for.”

“Hmm. I think you might get away with those,” Geralt answered, taking a drink from his pint.

“Well I guess all is left is the case of indecent exposure.”

The man had a nonchalant demeanor about him but his eyes were focused on Geralt and definitely didn't miss the way he almost choked on the ale. Geralt only then realised how much of Jaskier’s chest was visible. He registered vaguely how he’d never had an interest in other people’s collar bones before and realised he had forgotten where they were going with this.

"Hmm,” he cleared his throat, trying to look unbothered. “Like I said, not my area of expertise."

He saw Jaskier lick his lips and something in his eyes reminded him of the decisive moment that came with all his negotiations.

"How about we get out of here and you show me your area of expertise?"

"What?" He couldn’t have heard that right. Jaskier’s eyes softened and his hand hovered over his bare forearm.

"I'm saying I want to take you home.” There was a beat and Geralt swallowed, the taste of ale still on his lips. His conversations with other people definitely didn’t go like that. The peak of panic might have been obvious on his face because Jaskier’s fingers touched his wrist and he spoke into his ear. "I'm making a move on you, Geralt,” he said kindly, “and I don’t know if you’re too polite to decline or if I’m being too subtle-” he pulled back to look at him and his face was so fucking close. “Which, honestly, would be a first! So... What do you think?”

What did he think? His mind was an uninhabited fish tank. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a light flicker. He blinked again, looking at Jaskier’s lips. His brain whispered pretty, and right then, because life always loved fucking with him, the lights and the music went out.

There was a deafening silence for a moment when everyone held their breath and then lights as bright as day came on. The crowd booed. "Oh for fuck's sake, it's the third time this month," Jaskier grumbled. “Sorry my dear but duty calls!”

He stepped down from his stool only to hoist himself up onto the bar. "Not to worry, gentlepeople!" he called out like he was standing on a stage rather than a drink-sticky counter. "The lights will go down and the music back on again as soon as our beloved Essi, Mistress of the house, puts that freaking generator back on! And in the meantime, if you would please allow this humble bard to entertain you,” he took a dramatic bow and rose up again. “Someone please toss me a folk guitar; drinks are on me!"

The crowd cheered and Jaskier got down behind the bar as one of the crew members passed over the guitar. He went off in a cheery song some people started singing along to, bathing in the crowd's energy like he breathed that very element.

Something funny and complicated was happening in Geralt's chest when a hand gently grabbed his arm.

"Come on, let's go!" Yen. "It was getting boring anyway!"

Geralt squinted at her.

"You were dancing on a table,"

"Yeah, exactly!"

It didn’t make the slightest sense but most of his conversations with Yen ended with her radiating with knowledge and him feeling stupid anyway.

"I was talking with someone," he said and instantly felt like a small child very proud to say he made a friend.

"You were what?" her voice pitched up and Geralt could tell she was a bit on the tipsy side. "Where are they?"

He looked around and back towards the other side of the bar where Jaskier was singing and playing among the crowd, flawlessly winking and flirting with every person around.

"You're right,” his voice sounded strained even to his own ears and he had to blame it on the sleepless nights. “Let's go."

It had been two weeks since they had secured the Jackdows contract and Geralt was still deep in paperwork. He'd taken yet another two-hour video call with Alveaenerle and he was starting to think that maybe Triss was right and the woman was mostly dealing with him for his looks rather than for the sake of legal liaison.

He heard the elevator doors open and checked the clock. It wouldn’t be the first time he had worked through the whole night, only noticing at 4am when the janitor came in that he had forgotten to go home. Since then, he had promised Ciri he would try to get decent amounts of sleep while she was away at Yen’s and he didn’t like breaking his promises.

When he looked through the glass wall of his shared office, however, he didn’t see the janitor. Instead, and he checked twice in case it might have been a case of insomnia-induced hallucination, Jaskier was standing in the hall. He seemed hesitant, looking right and left for any indication that he was in the right place until he saw Geralt through the office’s glass walls.

They blinked at each other, seemingly unable to move until Jaskier slowly raised a hand and waved. Geralt kicked himself and walked out of his office.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, looking a bit sheepish. "Remember me?"

“What are you doing here?” Geralt asked, straightforward as ever.

“Uh,” Jaskier said. “The security guy let me in. He must have thought I was a delivery boy or something. I uh, I got your favourite,” he raised a hand holding a paper bag that Geralt had been too distracted to notice. “From across the street? Oh! Your friend Tiff was at the bar. She said you were still at work so I thought you’d like to have dinner maybe? And like, not with me, necessarily, just, you gotta eat right?” His words were starting to run together, and Geralt didn’t see any end in sight. “And so I figured, the place across the street, they had to know your favourite. ‘Big lawyer man with long white hair’ doesn't fit many of their clients' profiles. Anyway, dinner. For you. I could stay too, if you want, I mean I am simply starving-” he emphasized the word and then looked panicked again. “Wait, was that a yes, by the way? You know who I am, right? Otherwise this is going to get so awkward-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted.

“Yes!" He beamed. "That's me. Jaskier."

“I’m still not sure what you’re doing here.”

Jaskier froze for a moment, losing his shine. “We didn’t get to finish that conversation the other night. I thought that maybe...” Balancing his weight from a feet to another, he looked younger in the office light. He didn't finish his sentence, and looked like he was waiting for Geralt to respond.

“I’m working.”

“Right.”

“I’m at work,” Geralt gestured back at his office.

“Yeah, I know, I just thought- I- You're right, this was a stupid idea. Invasive, even. God what am I doing-” he took a frantic step backwards, and then thrust out the paper bag in some sort of peace offering. “Well, you should have this anyway, I mean- you have to eat, right? I said that already. Did I say that already?” He put the paper bag down on the closest cubicle desk then started walking backwards. “Sorry for,” he gestured vaguely, “showing up like that. Uh. It won’t happen again.”

Jaskier turned around, starting towards the elevators with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and Geralt thought he heard him swearing under his breath something that sounded very much like ‘such a fucking idiot’.

An uneasy feeling filled Geralt’s chest as he watched Jaskier walk away. He didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t know what he wanted or why he wanted anything but he knew he didn't want this.

“Jaskier,” he called and felt so very glad no one else was working late on his floor.

“Yeah?” Jaskier turned back instantly, his face lit up by a beacon of hope.

“Do you… Do you do this often?” he asked hesitantly and felt stupid about it as soon as he heard himself. There was a beat of Jaskier looking around at the empty place before he walked back towards Geralt slowly.

“Chasing down a guy I talked to for thirty minutes because I just can’t fucking stop thinking about him? No. No, I don’t. First time, actually.”

Geralt watched the musician, noting the soft, hopeful smile forming at the corner of his lips, the closing and opening of his hands at his sides, and the way the office light was reflecting in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Twenty minutes? I need to wrap something up. Then I’m free. For dinner.” Geralt amended.

Jaskier let go of the breath he had been holding and a full smile slowly graced his face again.

“Sure. Take your time. We can heat up the food at my place.”

If twenty minutes had been a promise, Geralt would have broken it. Ten minutes later, he was done with work for the day and on his way to Jaskier’s.

“So which one are you?" Jaskier asked, leaning over his kitchen counter after discarding the take-away wrappings. "VGB or Morhen?”

“Neither,”

“Oh. I thought you were.”

“Disappointed?”

Jaskier chuckled. “No. Well, a bit, I mean," he raised a shoulder lazily and faked disappointment, "I thought you were one of those big-shot lawyers.”

“I am. I’m just not a name partner.”

"So you're a regular partner then?"

“Just barely."

"Is that a thing?"

"Hmm." Geralt took a whole second to think about it and found himself oddly relaxed with answering the question. “I have a daughter.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice was oddly tight.

“Yen and I have a deal. She leads the boat on the job side, excels and enjoys herself in the career she’s always wanted and worked so hard for. I pull the hours she needs me to but our focus is our daughter.”

“You and Yen.”

“Yes.”

"Wait, like Triss's dancing on tables Yenna?" Jaskier’s eyes were widening in realisation.

"Yes."

"Is she Morhen?"

Geralt shook his head. "Vengerberg."

"And she’s your ex."

"Yes."

“Are you still-”

“Friends, yes.”

Jaskier nodded slowly and seemed to be thinking about something. He put his glass away and leaned against the counter, closer to Geralt. “Do you know what you’re doing here, Geralt?” he asked so low it was almost a whisper.

Geralt couldn’t help but cast a look at his lips. “Not really.”

Jaskier slowly slipped his hand up Geralt’s forearm and the hair at the back of his neck rose.

“I was thinking maybe I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

Geralt found himself suddenly very much too out of breath to answer.

"Geralt?"

"Yes."

"Yes, as in you're still with me or yes-"

"Both." Geralt interrupted before he had the chance to change his mind.

Jaskier looked surprised for a second then stood up on his toes to close the small space that was left between them. He pressed his lips against Geralt's; chaste and dry and sweet. When was the last time Geralt had been kissed like that? With care?

Jaskier's lips moved with his and Geralt felt the tip of the other man’s tongue against his lower lip, asking for permission. He granted it without question.

"Geralt?"

Geralt kissed him again and couldn't help the sigh that escaped when Jaskier's teeth grazed against his lips.

"Hmm?"

They shared another kiss.

"Couch?"

And another.

"Sure."

They parted only for the short time it took Jaskier to walk around the kitchen island. He led Geralt to the couch, pushing him slightly backwards to make the man sit so he could straddle his lap. Jaskier’s hips were thinner than those of Geralt’s usual partners. His shoulders were larger, his back more muscled, his arms- his whole body was fucking delightful and yet so very different, so very new.

"Jask?"

A kiss.

"Yeah?" It was more of a sigh of pleasure against his lips than a whisper.

"Remember when you asked-" Fuck, it was good. "About my-"

"Sorry, do you need me to stop?"

Something rumbled in Geralt’s chest, his voice almost a growl.

"No."

His hand found the back of Jaskier's neck and they sort of crashed again into each other. They kissed and kissed again and Geralt just didn't want to stop but things had to be said.

"Expertise," he finally managed.

"What?" Jaskier let go of his mouth and came back again for a peck before he sat back on his ankles to look at Geralt. His lips were red, his hair in disarray, his hand still hot on the side of Geralt’s neck. Geralt was fucked.

"Expertise," Geralt said, sitting up a bit straighter, settling his hands on Jaskier’s hips. "The other night. You asked about my area of expertise."

"Uh. Right."

Jaskier had a look on his face like someone had just interrupted his hot make-out session to talk about corporate law. Geralt would know, that had happened to him more times than he would admit.

"This isn't it."

"What?" Jaskier looked bewildered. His face was an open book of unguarded emotions and it made Geralt want to kiss him even more.

"My area of expertise. This isn’t it."

"Oh." Jaskier answered, distracted by a strand of hair that fell over Geralt's eyes. He plucked the strand up between deft fingers and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear. Then he blinked and backtracked. "Wait, kissing?"

"Men," Geralt said. "Men aren't my areas of expertise."

"Oh,” Jaskier said. His hand was suspended in the air behind Geralt’s ear. “Okay, you- Oh. Okay.” he whispered again, his hand dropping down to Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt wasn't sure why Jaskier was the one blushing.

Sexual orientation had never really been a topic of conversation for Geralt growing up. Emotions were already a complex enough subject to tackle, anything that went further than caring for his brothers was not recommended. Exploration was limited. As a young man, he had gone for what society told him were the easiest ways to get sexual release when he needed it (women) and then his life tangled with Yen's and other partners faded out from the realm of his interests. When Ciri had entered their life, his very own life had taken a whole new meaning. There was little that mattered except making his daughter happy. His own personal relationships were more of an afterthought.

"Well," Jaskier started again. "We don't have to- I mean it's okay. It's good. It's all good, darling. Do you- Do you need a breather? Do you- do you even want to be here?"

"I followed you willingly, didn't I?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier chuckled.

“It’s just- What if I mess up and deter you from ever enjoying another penis ever again?" he exaggerated, the dramatic flair evident in every line of his body. Geralt snorted.

"Hey! I have a duty to the penis community and I take it very seriously," Jaskier continued as if Geralt hadn’t brushed the thought off.

"The penis community," Geralt repeated, fake awe dripping in his voice.

"The penis kingdom, actually."

"The penis continent." Geraly offered, helpfully.

"Oh, that reminds me, talking about dicks: Nilfgaard, yay or nay?"

"Argh, shut up," he grabbed Jaskier's face unceremoniously and Jaskier laughed in the kiss. His hand brushed Geralt’s cheek and everything about him seemed to slow down. Jaskier broke apart from him, a smile still on his lips, and looked at Geralt steadily like any doubt and hesitation were forgotten.

"Just tell me what you like, darling,” he said.

"I like kissing you.”

"That’s a good start," he replied and granted Geralt’s request.

Jaskier lay his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and the muscles melted under the soft weight of them. He raised onto his knees and pushed Geralt back into the couch. Jaskier was slightly taller kneeling over him, and Geralt found something delightful in having to look up at someone.

Jaskier leaned in and caught Geralt’s lips between his. His kisses were softer, slower, deeper than a minute before. Like he was taking his time to enjoy every second, to make Geralt enjoy every second. One of Geralt’s hands moved from his hip to his lower back, inviting him closer, and Jaskier slid his hands around Geralt’s neck, arching slightly into the touch. There was an intimacy about it that Geralt hadn’t expected nor experienced in a long time.

Jaskier pressed his forehead against his at every breath, his hands caressing Geralt’s cheeks, sliding into Geralt’s hair, slowly making him shiver.

Jaskier’s arms were distracting. The shirt he’d been wearing on that evening at the bar hadn't given away any clue as to the gems that were hidden underneath those sleeves. There was something feral lying deep in Geralt’s belly that was definitely ready to be manhandled.

Geralt found himself sliding his hand under Jaskier’s shirt, feeling the hot skin under his fingers, tracing the muscles along his spine.

Jaskier quickly got the message and took his shirt off between breathless kisses. He started tugging at the buttons of Geralt's shirt while Geralt’s hands made themselves at home on every inch of skin they could find. He felt goosebumps form on Jaskier’s skin and used the distraction to start laying kisses on his neck, licking and sucking the skin and taking note of the softest noises Jaskier made. The tip of his fingers slid down the hairs of Jaskier’s chest as he nibbled the man’s collarbone, and found one of his nipples on the way. Geralt caressed it tentatively and felt the shiver that went through Jaskier’s whole body when he did. Jaskier’s fingers pulled abruptly at his shirt.

“Oh god, take your goddamn shirt off, please!” The request was more of a thready gasp than an actual sentence. Geralt laughed at his enthusiasm and finished unbuttoning his shirt.

“Is this okay?” Jaskier asked as he slid the shirt off Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt hummed approvingly and raised his arms when Jaskier grabbed his undershirt. They kept kissing until he felt Jaskier’s hands slowing down, tensing slightly against his chest until they were barely just touching him. He saw the look on Jaskier’s face when he parted from him and realised why he had stopped. Jaskier’s eyes were fixated on his torso, fingers hovering over one of his many scars.

“I can put the shirt back on if you want,” he offered and Jaskier’s eyes jumped back to his face.

“What? No, darling, no,” he rushed and grabbed Geralt’s face kindly, kissing him again. “I was just surprised. Is this okay? Can I- can I touch you?”

“Yeah. Of course you can,” he kissed Jaskier softly. “They haven’t hurt in a long time.”

“Can I ask- I know this isn’t the best of times but-" he bit his lip with hesitation. "Did someone do this to you?”

“Not one person in particular,” Geralt shrugged it off.

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “It’s in the past.”

"Okay," Jaskier whispered and then, trying to lighten the mood he added, "was it, like, your secret service past?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Jaskier snorted.

“Just tell me you’re not in a fight club.”

“In a what?” Geralt asked, frowning.

“A fight club.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, seemingly clueless.

“You know, a fi- oh, you ass!” Jaskier yelped, slapping him lightly on the pec and Geralt laughed, grabbing the back of Jaskier's thighs right below his bottom to make him slip even further into his lap.

“How would you like to take care of my ass?”

Jaskier almost choked on his own breath and turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Are you- do you mean literally?"

"I'm not a blushing virgin, Jaskier,” Geralt said matter-of-factly.

"I know, I just mean- well if you've never- I mean are you sure you want to? With me?"

It was a sensible question but Geralt didn't want to think about it for too long. Thinking would mean trying to make sense of things -feelings, desires. It would lead to labelling and wanting to belong and- he just hated words. Words had a tendency to make things real and unmovable. Actions were so, so much better.

"You're the one who knows what he's doing, here,” Geralt said. “I'd rather it be you doing the work."

"Uh," Jaskier said thoughtfully. He probably had a PhD in literature or something based on the improbable number of books and manuscripts lying around in his flat. Geralt had even seen a couple ones in the cereal cupboard which was apparently where Jaskier’s glasses went.

"Alright then. Just. Tell me if something is not working for you, alright?"

"I will. Now can we get back to business?"

"To defeat-"

"If you start singing right now I am getting out of here," he grabbed a handful of the musician’s ass.

"Oi!!" Jaskier complained in the fakest way possible. "Wait, hold on, does that mean you've seen Disney movies- what's your favourite one?"

Geralt raised yet another very serious eyebrow.

"Do you often discuss topics that make people think about their kids when they're trying to bed you-"

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," Jaskier laughed and hid his face in Geralt's neck, full of shame. "How much do you hate me right now?" he muffled.

"Hmm," Geralt pondered, slowly sliding his fingers up Jaskier's spine. "You should probably find a way to make me forget about it."

"Hmm," Jaskier imitated, kissing the side of Geralt's neck and slowly making his way up to the man’s ear. "What if I took your pants off?" he whispered.

"Could be a start," Geralt admitted.

"What if we moved to my bed?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you had one of those."

"I can still fuck you over the kitchen counter if you're disappointed."

Geralt’s pupils dilated as he pictured himself bent over the piece of furniture, holding onto whatever he could while Jaskier pounded him restlessly.

"Bed. Now."

Geralt only got a quick look at the room (more books, more notebooks, cord instruments of all sorts and sizes) before Jaskier grabbed him by the belt and pushed him onto the bed. He followed quickly, straddling him and kissing him senseless until Geralt’s head hit the mattress.

"Can I t-" Jaskier started and Geralt tried to sit up, cutting him off with a kiss. He reached for his own belt, planning on taking his trousers off before Jaskier pressed against his shoulders and made him lie down again. He slid his fingers between Geralt’s, caressing his knuckles softly.

"Oh please, give me the honor."

Geralt almost growled with impatience and reached a hand out between Jaskier's legs, palming him through his jeans.

"Oh sweet Edith Eleanor Diana Poulton, you are not playing."

He got Geralt’s belt out of the way and undid his trousers. Geralt’s underwear followed halfway when Jaskier took the trousers off, leaving his ass bare on the sheets and the hem of his briefs so low on his hips it was practically at the base of his cock. He tried taking his briefs off entirely, feeling silly and oddly vulnerable being halfway undressed but Jaskier batted his hands off and kissed him again. He slid a hand through Geralt’s pubic hair and slowly, incredibly slowly, down, and after what felt like a thousand years, finally closed his hand around Geralt’s cock and pulled.

Geralt pushed the back of his head into the mattress and closed his eyes as if he was at risk of losing sight if he left them open. Jaskier kissed him through the first moan of pleasure and quickly was all over him. Jaskier was kissing and licking and touching and stroking and Geralt was having quite a hard time trying to do much more than let his hand grab onto Jaskier’s hair and do his best not to sound too desperate. He was absolutely failing.

“Is this good, darling?” Jaskier whispered, kissing his neck up to his jaw and softly biting the skin there as his hand kept stroking him.

"Hmm," was all Geralt could manage and he felt Jaskier smile against his skin.

"Tell me?"

"Ah,” Geralt’s hands were moving somewhat erratically, trying to hold onto any part of Jaskier that would make him feel anchored and not as if he was going to lose his mind before he got the man’s socks off. “Yes."

"You're so good darling,” Jaskier’s kindness, Geralt vaguely decided, was fucking obscene. “You're doing so good."

Geralt felt himself blush, having no idea how any blood could flow to his face since he was pretty sure all of it was rushing to his dick. He wasn't going to last long at this rate.

"I want- I want to touch you too."

Jaskier let him open his jeans and moaned into his mouth when Geralt finally got his hand into his underwear.

“Jaskier,” he warned and Jaskier slowed down the working of his own hands.

“You alright, love?” he whispered, voice broken with pleasure.

Instead of an answer, Geralt sat up and pulled Jaskier's trousers to get his point across. Jaskier took his hands off him - the loss was fucking unbearable - to finally get rid of all remaining items of clothing and pressed himself against Geralt again, his hand on his neck. Geralt immediately got his arms around his middle to cradle him closer. Jaskier rocked slightly against him, their cocks pressing against each other and Geralt couldn't help but get a hand on both of them.

"Show me?" he croaked hoarsely and silently prayed that Jaskier wouldn’t make him beg for it because he definitely would. Instead Jaskier joined their hands together and guided him, pressing on Geralt's fingers to make him hold his cock tighter, moaning when Geralt's wrist angled exactly how he liked it.

"Oh god, yes. You're so good to me, love," he moaned.

It felt like forever and it felt like a blink. They rocked and they kissed and they moaned and Jaskier kept breathing sweet nonsense into his neck, praises into his ear, about how good he was and how good he felt and how well Jaskier would take care of him and how much he wanted to make him moan through the night but in the end, what got him over the edge was Jaskier digging his fingers onto the soft flesh of his ass, sliding in to brush against Geralt’s hole, and absolutely, definitely had nothing to do with Jaskier crying out, “Oh love, you’re beautiful!”

Geralt lost a few seconds or maybe a minute or five over which Jaskier had apparently come all over his stomach too. Jaskier was catching his breath, lying with his forehead against Geralt’s chest, trying his best not to lay all his weight over him. Geralt found the back of Jaskier’s neck, his fingers going up through his hair and drawing a comfortable groan from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing on his arm to lie a few centimeters away, his head propped over Geralt’s shoulder, their legs still intertwined together. Jaskier’s arm stretched over Geralt’s middle and the tingly waves of left-over pleasure washed over them both with every breath, content tiredness slowly taking over.

A few minutes later Geralt extracted himself from Jaskier’s grasp, not without some difficulty, and convinced himself to clean up. Washing his hands in front of the bathroom mirror, Geralt looked back at Jaskier’s face hovering over his shoulder as Jaskier pressed his chest against his back. Eyes closed, Jaskier asked: “D’you want to stay?”

Vaguely wondering about the last time he felt as comfortable as this with someone and then pushing the thought away, Geralt’s eyes lowered, looking at Jaskier’s arms settled around his body.

He felt Jaskier’s lips move into a loopy smile against his skin when he answered:

“Hmm.”

#geraskier #geraskier fic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my writing #no warnings #geralt of rivia is a little dense and jaskier is very very pretty #mine: geraskier #mine: no warning #mine: himbo geralt #mine: modern au #mine: mature #mine: of fingers tongues and toes series

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luthien-t · 4 years ago

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Resurfaced Memories. Chapter Two.

Loki x Female reader

Summary: Fast forward to current times, you work as a florist with Linda in small shop. Loki and Thor are here in midgard for their weekly visit, will you meet again?

warning: angst-ish

A/N: (Taglists are open) + I am not sure if I want to make this a 15 chapter series or a short series of 5 chapters, but we will see! Happy reading!!

3.1K+ Words

Current Time

Carrying the flowers and plants from the truck, you were helping Linda restock this month. It may be a small local shop, but it is always filled with the same usual costumers. Sometimes they just come in to be surrounded by the nature of this shop to read a book or work. You always told Linda how adding a stay in option for the costumers and making tea or fresh beverages will attract more and the crowd that comes in every time in the morning just adds a nice, subtle, relaxing aura to this flower shop.

Walking in from the back with the new cacti and aloe vera, you stand by Linda. “Sweetheart, just set them back there and i’ll get to it.” Linda says as she sat on the stool next to you. For the past 75 years, you and Linda have been through many obstacles, you sometimes assumed that maybe you were injected with the serum like her, I mean, she always joked about it, considering how you never aged, your strength and body still holding you all together.

“Are you sure you don’t have any of that super-soldier serum in you somewhere, y/n?” She said as she busied her hands with removing the thorns from the roses carefully and you let out a soft laugh, carrying two more boxes in your arms to set them beside her. “75 Years later and I’ll give you the same answer, Lin, I don’t remember, but maybe, I guess.” She chuckled and went back to organising the shop before opening hours.

“Honestly, you look like you haven’t aged a day since 1945, sweetheart.” She smiled at you and you bit the inside of your cheeks, her words ringing in your head.

She has a point, you look the same, your body heals and no matter how much alcohol you consume, you are still the same sober y/n. This isn’t the first time you questioned yourself and your inhumane abilities, it was always a mystery to you and no matter how hard you try, you always end up with the same answers. I don’t remember. For Linda on the other hand, she is just now slowly starting to age, wrinkles were visible and grey hair was starting to peak in her roots, she knows that she still has a long way ahead of her before it is her time. You assumed that signs of ageing will appear to you in a couple more years, considering how much younger you are compared to Linda, or at least that is what the doctors always told you regarding your age.

Through the years, you’ve started taking courses about almost everything, you and Linda traveled to places you can only dream of visiting, you’ve met people from across the world from different cultures and you were absorbing every knowledge from every religion, culture and even mythology.

You’ve grown attached to Norse mythology the most, something about it just sucked you in, you learned about the realms and their people, you’ve taken courses about them and watched documentaries for your entertainment, it attracted you even more when it was proven a reality from the Avengers, Thor the God of Thunder was real, so you can only imagine the other Gods and what they’re up to.

“I’m gonna go grab a cup of coffee, need anything?” You say as you set the last box next to Linda.

“Just be here before we open, sweetheart, the pretty one should be coming today!” She smiled at you. Every Thursday for the past two months, a nice gentleman would come, have small talk with Linda while she prepares him his bouquet, you’ve always been busy with getting things for the shop or just in the back cleaning up so you never got the chance to meet the gentleman she brags about. You kissed her cheek and grabbed your book before walking out. “Be safe!” She yelled before you left and you smiled to yourself, she was like a sister, a mother and a friend all together, you were extremely thankful for her, and maybe even more thankful for that serum. It is the reason she is still around with you, it may feel selfish but you can’t imagine where you’d be if you lived all these years alone.

You loved your morning walks before opening the shop. The streets were filled with busy people trying to get to work or students rushing to school with their friends, you absorb the soft sun hitting your skin and walked towards your favourite cafe, music playing in your ears.

Reaching the coffee shop, you greeted your usual barista, she knew you routine like the back of the hand and had your drink ready before you reached the place. Tipping them after taking your usual order you go to your usual seat by the window. You loved coming here, it was a local coffee shop with freshly brewed coffee and sometimes good tea, but nothing tops the tea Linda makes, smiling to yourself you open your book and start reading, living in your own world and blocking out the noises around you, slowly you start losing track of time as the book grabbed your attention more and more.

“Thor, this is ridiculous. Do we have to leave the tower?” Loki crossed his arms, following Thor through the streets to god knows where. He knew that his brother leaves The Tower every Thursday, but this is his first time tagging along. “I promised Jane that I will see her, I just need one thing- Ah, we’re here!” Thor smiled widely at his favourite flower shop. Loki rolled his eyes at the place, these flowers and plants were nothing compared to the ones they have back in Asgard. “You could’ve brought something better from Asgard, it is free.” Loki mumbled to Thor, walking in behind him into the shop.

“Lady Linda!” Thor beamed, ignoring Lokis comment.

“Thor! I was worried you were ditching the shop today! The usual?” Linda says as she starts preparing his usual bouquet.

“Yes, please! Now how can I ditch this beautiful shop?” He says.

Loki behind him, was growing impatient by the minute. Deciding he had enough of following Thor and not liking the idea of being the spare in Thor and Janes gathering and with that he slowly stepped out of the shop, his gaze roaming around the streets before his legs took the lead, taking him to wherever he wants, as long as it was far from the two lovebirds. Thor has an entirely different life here and Loki barely knows the Avengers back in the tower, he has the right to roam around this boring realm for any source of entertainment.

“Lady Linda, please, meet Loki, my br-“ He turns around, Loki was nowhere to be found and his sighs. “-other.” He finishes his sentence. “I saw him leave, that’s all right, dear. I’ll see him next Thursday?” She smiles at Thor as she wrapped his bouquet and he smiled wide. “You can count on it.” He says as he take the bouquet from Lindas hand before leaving the shop and to Janes place, leaving his brother be. He understands why Loki hates it here, maybe if Loki walked around freely he might find a liking to this place.

Loki was aimlessly walking around the city, disgust written all over his face as he passed the meaningless shops, watching the people interact with each other, he watched every window of every shop before his eyes landing on a particular stranger with her book. Stopping in his tracks, he stares at her. He knows that face anywhere, he has it engraved in the back of his mind.

Is that-? No it can’t be. But There is no other. No.

Unsure of what to do in this situation, all he does is watch her. His mouth was running dry, hands clenching and unclenching trying to stop it from shaking slightly. He must have been staring for too long because she noticed, her eyes averting from the book and slowly up to him, his heart beating faster, now he is sure that it is her. He could never forget those eyes, even if he wanted to. He blinks as he looked at her through the glass, a smile slowly appearing in his face, after all these years. She gently smiles before looking down at her phone and closing her book to get up.

Almost done with your book, you feel a pair of eyes on you, trying to ignore the feeling you slowly look around before you meet the prettiest eyes you have ever seen, a smile slowly appearing on your face at him, his eyes capturing you.

There stood a man on the other side of the window, black hair, almost reaching his shoulder, he was wearing a tight black suit and his skin was pale yet his face was perfectly contoured and he was practically glowing under sun, his eyes never leaving yours, growing nervous at the sudden attention, you close your book and get up after checking the time and cursing under your breath. You’re two hours late, Linda is going to be so mad at me, you bid your farewell to the barista and walk out of the shop, you wished to see the man again but you’re running late so you pray silently to see him another day. Jumping slightly as you walk out the cafe, the man that was by the window is now standing in front of you. You gasp lightly, he is even more alluring up close.

“Sigyn- I thought I’ve lost you, my love.” The stranger says to you, the name echoing in your head and you blink at him. “I’m sorry?” You start and take a small step back, your heart aches for the mans loss but he is mistaken. “Don’t apologise for my fathers doing,” He chuckled gently, a smile appearing in his face and you shake your head, your hands were starting to tremble and this time you take a big step back. His words were sending warning signals to your mind, fathers doing? “You’ve got the wrong girl, sir” You tell him, looking away from him. His smile drops and stares at you.

“Sigyn, my lo-“

“I’m not who you think I am” You turn your head and look at him.

“Then who are you?” His brows furrowed, confused, just when he thought he found you.

“Not Sigyn?” You reply, confused.

“Who are you?” you emphasise your words, repeating his words back to him before glancing quickly at your phone. You know who Sigyn is, she is the second wife to Loki, her love story with him is one you’ve always dreamed of, minus the complications they have in mythology.

“You don’t know who I am?” The man asks you, shock dripping from his words as if you’ve said anything wrong, shaking your head, you start to question if this stranger is worth getting late to work.

“I see..” The man takes a step back and nods, sliding his hands into his pockets. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have bothered you.” He starts to slowly walk away from you. “I hope you find her though!” You say to the tall handsome man before walking quickly away from him and to your work.

Loki watched you leave, your last words glued in his mind, you were always supporting him and hoping his plans work, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and slowly follows you, he refuses to believe that you’re not the one he loved before. You walked with elegance that the mortals lacked, you smiled at the strangers passing by and his heart clenched, how is it possible that after all the years you simply just deny him? His eyes widened slightly when you walked into the flower shop and ran a hand through his hair. He has to find Thor.

“You won’t believe what just happened?” You say as you walk in the shop, seeing Linda with her arms crossed. “Better be a long two hour story to explain why you’re late” She said and you gave her a small sheepish smile. “Well not exactly but, a man today called me Sigyn? As in Goddess of Victory? As in Lokis wife?” Lindas eyebrows raised in interest and she sat down. “Carry on.” She said and you started working on the Lavender behind the desk, fixing its soil and organising it in the pot. “He said he thought he lost me? But I just said he has the wrong person and came here as fast as I can.” You smiled at her.

“Interesting…” She says and you glance her way, this time your eyebrows were raised. “Anyway, did the nice gentleman come in today?” You ask, changing the subject and she chuckled. “Yes! He was here thirty minutes ago!” You nod and let out a small hum. “You know? I never got the chance to tell you who he is.” She said before walking to the back of the shop. You laugh and nod. “Yes because a man who comes every Thursday for flowers is so important, Lin.” You say and water the plants before cutting any extra leaves you find.

“The God of Thunder, y/n.” She said as she stood behind you and you snort. “Suuure” You giggle and wear your gloves to remove some plants from their soil. “His brother was here too, today, black suit, black hair, barely looks like Thor.” She said, as if she was stating the most obvious facts.

“But he left quickly, before Thor.” You nod at her, not sure what to add to this conversation.

“How can you be smart and stupid at the same time? His name was Loki, y/n.”

Your eyes widen and you set down the watering can. Realising that you just interacted with one of the Avengers and the same person you’ve read stories about.

“Oh my god. And I had the audacity to ask him who he is” You snort then rub your face with your palm.

“I mean, it could be him considering how close that cafe is from here, but who knows” She adds. Your conversation was cut short when the door was open, both Linda and you turn your head towards the door and you swallow at the man standing in front of you.

“You work here?” He asks, his eyes wandering around the shop and you just simply nod, your mouth running dry. Lindas eyes switched between you both before standing up. “Time for my lunch break! Bye.” She said as she quickly walked out of the shop and you flip her off quickly before the man turns back to you.

“you made doubt that it is not you, but, you just keep proving me wrong.” He whispers, a smile appearing on his face and you just stare at him. “You’ve always helped mother in her garden” He chuckled and looked down at his feet before back up at you, you were speechless, unable to form words. You just continued to stare at him.

“Sigyn-“

“No” You interrupt him, as much as his aura was pulling you to him, you just don’t want to pretend. It is not fair, he was confusing you.

“I’m y/n. I have never seen you in my life, Loki.” You say and he smiles at you.

“I missed hearing my name with your voice.” His memories of you never left his mind, the way you feel, your voice, your smile and your touch, all of it was glued in his mind, remembering you every second of the day.

His words caught you off guard and you just stare at him, an eyebrow raised at him.

“Ever since Odin told me what you’ve done, I refused to believe him, you would never leave my side, not like that.” You open your mouth to protest and he raises a finger. “Please” His voice, desperate. “Let me speak” You sit down and look up at him, nodding at him to continue and he smiles softly down at you.

“I have waited for you, everyday. For months, years, even decades pass and still no word of you, I have travelled realms with hopes of seeing you again, how is it that everything we’ve been through and you don’t even want to talk to me? Have I done wrong?” His voice breaks in the end and he kneels down to your level, his face aligned with yours and you shake your head, turning it to the side and your eyes glued to the people passing by, unable to meet his gaze from his strong words and question that you don’t even have the answers to. “What have I done for you to leave without a word? For you to change your identity? To hide? From what?” He raises his hand to your cheek slowly, craving to touch you, to feel you again but you stop him with a hand around his wrist and he closes his eyes. Even when your touch was a warning, he was drinking every bit of it, remembering everything that was before.

“I don’t know you, this is my first interaction with you. I’m sorry, I understand that you’re a god, but if you stay in this shop any longer, I have no option but to call the police” Your voice was stern, his eyes widen and he looks at you. “You don’t remember.” He whispers, lowering his hands and standing up. Shocked at his words, you furrow your eyebrows.

“Excuse me?” You look up at him before standing up and walking towards the door, opening the door for him to leave.

“Si- y/n. How long have you been here? on mid-“ he sighs, hating the different names this place carries. “On earth?” His question startling you open the door wider and look up at him, giving him your silence as your only answer.

Loki was staring at you, trying to find any hint of hidden truth, his mind was contemplating his next moves until he takes a step outside of the shop, looking at you. Your eyes met and something in the back of his mind was telling him to not move, not leave, to just stay here in your presence, Sigyn or not. But your actions next jabbed him in the heart, he watched you as you shut the door and go back to where you stood before he walked in, his eyes never leaving yours while you busied yourself with your work.

Taglist: @jessiejunebug , @hellethil ,

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x female reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki layfeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki odinson x you #loki odison x reader

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sea-side-scribbles · 3 years ago

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Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/81815854

Chapter 75

Peace. Silence. Absolute calm. If this was what being dead felt like, it wasn't that bad. Nick heard muffled sounds from somewhere far away. They sounded like human voices, slightly echoing. Angels? Did he really make it into heaven?

When he opened his eyes, the sight promptly overwhelmed him. A woman with feathered wings floated above him and granted him a tender look. Nick stared back in awe, scolding himself for ever having doubts. “Oh, you're awake”, a female voice said. It sounded otherworldly, but the angel however hadn't moved her mouth. “Am I?”, Nick asked in confusion.

Then he heard footsteps and turned his head into the direction of the noise. To his surprise, a very livid looking woman approached him. Her shape was a bit blurry, no matter how much Nick blinked, but other than that her appearance didn't seem otherworldly. She wore a dirty and wrinkled dress and her up-do was messy. “Don't be afraid”, she said softly and held up her hands. “I don't want to hurt you. The fight is over and we're all Downers like you.” Her footsteps echoed from the walls. Nick finally took a closer look around and the angel turned out to be a sculpture. There were more of her kind on the walls and above him he found something that looked very much like an organ case. He concluded he lay in the nave of a church. There were more beds like his own spread across the hall, proving that he hadn't left this world yet. Wellies slept in the beds or simply lay down. Injured. Examining himself he found bandages on his arms and legs, but he didn't feel pain.

“Be careful. We gave you painkillers, that's why you don't feel anything, but you should take it easy,” the woman advised. “Ah, painkillers...” Nick got it. “That's why I feel like I'm wrapped in a cloud.” “Do you feel sick?” “No...just...weird...”, Nick answered. He had trouble speaking plainly. She nodded, looking relieved. “By the way...I'm Doctor Chaney. If you need something, just call me. Me and my colleagues are here to help.”

“How's Arthur?”, he asked, struggling with his heavy tongue. The woman furrowed her brows. “Arthur?” "The man who's been with me...tall, black hair, glasses...He has a press pass." Dr. Chaney wiped her forehead. "I'm sorry, I wasn't with the group that found you...But I'm sure, if your friend is hurt, he's here. And if he's alright, he's out there helping the others." "I was in the rail tunnel...it collapsed..." Her expression changed. "The train station?" "Yeah...we wanted...the bridge...we didn't make it..." "Well...the tunnel is still unusable, but we reached as far as possible. If your friend was with you, I'm certain that we found him.” Nick moved. “I have to look for him...” “No”, Dr. Chaney said with emphasis. She stepped closer and pressed him back into the bed, gently but decisively. “You would only hurt yourself and delay your healing process. Your friend needs you in good shape”, she went on insistently. Nick looked tired and sad. “Trust him with us. I'm sure that one of my colleagues is already taking care of him. Spare yourself. You still need a lot of sleep. In the meantime I'll go ask for Arthur, okay?” She gave him a confident smile.

Nick's protest melted away. He tried a smile and sank back into his pillow. “You find him, right?” “Yes. I'll go right now”, she answered softly. He wouldn't be the first she had to bring bad news but she didn't say that. When she was gone, Nick eyed the painted ceiling for a while. He wondered how long it had been since he had visited a church that wasn't dedicated to Simon Says. Then he eventually fell asleep.

Waking up for the second time, he saw more clearly, but the pain kept him in bed. “Dr. Chaney?”, he asked into the room. After clearing his throat he tried again louder. “Dr. Chaney!” A man approached his bed. “Dr. Chaney just left”, he explained gently. “Can I help you?” “Arthur”, Nick blurted out. “She wanted to look for him...” He tried to get up but gave up when his body protested. “Careful!”, the man said. “You don't have these bandages for nothing. Who's Arthur?” Nick sighed. “He was with me when you found me. Tall, black hair, glasses, proper suit”, he explained again. “Somebody must've seen him!” He looked around in the room. If he lay in one of these beds, they would know, right? “His full name is Arthur Hastings.” The man pondered. “Well, I've seen many in proper suits, but no Arthur Hastings...but Dr. Chaney will find him, I'm sure of that.” He gave Nick a confident look. “I'm Dr. Wilson. You're probably hungry, I'll make sure you get breakfast.” Nick wasn't actually hungry but he however nodded. When the man left, Nick was alone with his uncomfortable thoughts. How could that happen? Just a few moments ago, Arthur had been with him, joking around and enjoying the last moments of their lives. He could still feel how they had clutched each other. How Arthur had pressed his head against his chest. He had lost consciousness in this position. And now Arthur was gone. How could it be that he wasn't here? How did they separate them without finding him? It impossible that he wasn't here!

Nick felt a sting when another option crossed his mind. No, he wasn't allowed to think that! If something had happened to Arthur....they would know. They would tell him, right? This wasn't the old Wellington Wells that hid all bad news away, or was it? Panic bubbled up inside him.

The man who brought his breakfast wasn't Dr. Wilson. “If something bad happened to my friend...you would tell me, right?”, Nick blurted out. The man was sightly puzzled. “We don't demand you to be happy, if that's what you mean...”, he answered with caution, as if he had to explain it to himself. “Nobody is really happy anymore.” Nick accepted the plate. “So, if somebody dies...” “Yeah...sure...”, the other man answered, as if he was upset about his own words. “We keep finding new ones...We have to keep up...” His face fell, dwelling in bad memories. Nick felt the urge to comfort him. “At least we didn't run out of porridge”, he joked, holding up the plate. The man implied a smile. “I'd prefer some roast pheasant now...” Nick eyed him, then he winked. “Parade-posh, huh?” “If you want to say it like that...” The other man grimaced and turned his head away. “I know how you feel”, Nick said. The man now eyed Nick's black suit, seemingly figuring that there was truth in his words, even though the cloth had suffered during the escape. He now really smiled.

The man later left to help other Wellies and Nick ate up, pondering. Or better, letting his thoughts spin in his head without any result. He didn't want to develop the thoughts that forced itself upon him. He wanted to blame the emptiness inside him on his stomach. Because the pain didn't allow him to move quicker, he ate up slowly. After putting down the plate under his bed he pulled the blanket over him. Soon, he wondered if they had put painkillers in his porridge because the pain eased and he grew tired. He fell asleep again.

The days went by with sleeping, eating and healing. Soon, the doctors freed him from his bandages and allowed him to make a few steps. At his first trip he made his way hand over hand along the stone wall, circling the nave until he was back at his bed. He was able to make longer trips later. One thing however didn't change. He asked every doctor in the church about Arthur, but nobody had seen him. A few times he thought he found him and approached a bed only to realise that he had mistaken someone else for him. Dr. Chaney didn't dare giving him an ultimate answer. Or perhaps she couldn't. Perhaps she simply didn't find Arthur yet. That was what Nick clung to just like the walls at his attempts to walk. If something had happened to Arthur they would know... He also asked them what they thought about bad news. It seemed like they were all Downers. Nobody wanted to withhold the truth but sometimes they simply didn't know it. Nick found out that he wasn't the only one missing somebody.

When he left the church for the first time, he noticed that the Wellies were already removing the wakes of devastation and also the signs of the old administration. Scribbles still covered the walls. They reminded Nick of the Garden District, telling him how naïve he had been when he had seen them for the first time. The remnants of the TV screens and drones were dragged away. The big headmistress got dismembered and carried away in pieces. The working Wellies seemed to be busy but not in a hurry, rather gloomy and dwelling in thoughts. They reminded Nick of himself.

He watched them, hoping to find a familiar face, looking out for the suits his friends had worn at the Memorial Day. They would stand out if they were there. But he didn't find them and when he asked about them he only received pitiful looks.

Soon, Nick was able to help too. It distracted him from his thoughts and it satisfied him to heal the town's wounds. Yet he wondered how he could remove the signs of his old life so easily, throwing away the old screens on which he had seen Uncle Jack for so many years. All of this would never come back, but Nick wasn't able to mourn. He watched the current events as if he was miles away.

The corpses were worse. Nick wasn't surprised about the casualties, he had already come upon them during his escape. But he was shocked about their amount. He couldn't be near them for long and he rarely helped carrying them away. He was sorry because it was obvious that not many volunteered for this kind of work. Some Wellies simply couldn't bear it, broke out in tears or feared to find a loved one in between the piles. Every helping hand was needed. Nick couldn't cry but sometimes the sight choked him. When he found a shock of black hair for example. It was also unnerving to think about the hearts that were trapped in these lifeless corpses. Nick fought back the feeling as good as he could.

Of course he also went to the train station as soon as he could make it there on his own. It was a shocking sight as well. Nick had expected to find signs of the explosion, but what he actually discovered made his stomach turn. The whole street had fallen in, the front of the building had collapsed and uncovered the tunnel underneath. It looked like there had been an earthquake. It was worse than he had imagined it when he was trapped in the tunnel. How did they get out of this alive? Looking down into the chasm with a pounding heart, he saw Wellies climbing down there. When he asked them what they were doing, they said they wanted to clear the way to the bridge. When he replied how risky it was they only said what Nick also sensed. They had no choice. He learned that others tried to contact the mainland, but they encountered difficulties too.

The sight of the ruin that could have been his own grave remained etched in his mind. He realised that somebody possibly still lay down there, somebody who had risked his own life to be with him, somebody who could've been safe on the other side of the bridge by now, who could've had a new life, with his brother who was waiting for him... This night, Nick mourned. All feelings he had bottled up until then broke free. He cried, screamed, threw around pieces of rubble and would've probably caused as much damage as the revolution if not the doctors had grabbed him and filled him with sedatives.

When he woke up again, his body was still weak. He could only cry in silence. Why couldn't he just die?, he asked himself. Why was he doomed to survive every disaster he had caused himself? What was it that fate wanted from him? Nick thought of the many tall mansion blocks in the district. Surely he could jump from one of them before anybody noticed what he was up to. They would simply add his corpse to the others. They would possibly not notice that he didn't die in the fight. He wouldn't be a burden.

What else would he do in this world? He felt the urge to justify himself. He had no future on the mainland and no future in this town. Everything he had wanted was a new life with Arthur... But it felt wrong to go without saying goodbye. He had said goodbye to Morrie and Virgil, at least according to circumstances, and had built them a memorial. He felt he should do the same for Arthur. And his friends. For everything that happened. If Birdie made it?, he asked himself. She had been only a fleeting acquaintance but Nick had felt a certain bond with her he had been too afraid to explore.

Nick left the bed, feeling how the other patients followed him with their eyes, as if they feared he could go mad again. Since he stayed calm and made no quick movements the doctors let him go. He almost knew where to go. He had only visited this place for one time and hadn't been impressed, but he believed that he had been unfair in his joy-soaked confidence. But even if not, it would be enough for his current needs. Strolling through the town like that, he just now noticed how freely he could move. There were no Bobbies around. Perhaps they just didn't wear their uniforms and hid their true identities, Nick toned down his own apprehension. Had they really been this tall or had they only come across as that? Did Hunt make it?

Nick didn't hurry searching the block until he found the right house. The ringing of the bell above the door startled him when he entered. Standing in the door frame, he waited for somebody to appear at the counter, but no one came. Suddenly the place looked very sad. Nick let the door fall shut and felt pity for the shop. Everything was covered in dust. It hadn't been open for a while, he guessed. He took his time to study the supply and ended up walking back and forth between two guitars, one with a blue and one with a sunburst finish. Blue had always been exciting for Nick. It demanded attention, especially in combination with sparkling silver. It said “Look at me, love me, I'm a star!” The sunburst however aroused old desires and dreams, the beginning of something new with an uncertain outcome. Curiosity. Nick didn't feel like blue, so he took the sunburst guitar from it's holders and blew the dust off it.

With his loot he left the shop and wandered through the district for a few minutes, looking for a convenient place. When he found it, he simply sat down on the ground and started to play. He remembered the song that Morrie had liked and he played it so gently as if he caressed the strings. “Now I've seen everything...”, he hummed. Yes, that was it.

It's not the song you wanted, Morrie, but it's the best I can do.

Playing along like that, he attracted other Wellies. Some simply went by, shortly giving him a glance. Many however stayed. Under Nick's spell, they just couldn't decide whether they should continue to work or make a pause, close their eyes and let all worries go. Some simply accepted the invitation and more followed. Also Nick felt better. The town had been so quite all the time. In the old days, there had always been a happy melody, from the broadcasts or the radios in the shops...It had been natural.

More Wellies gathered around him and Nick was happy about them. It meant that he didn't need to be Nick Lightbearer to make people enjoy his music. That even though he'd never slip into his old role again he could continue to do what he loved. If he could bear a lonely life like this. It was a shame that Arthur wasn't there.

Suddenly he saw three people approach him. They stood out from the others because they didn't move slowly and carefully or sat down in a certain distance to him. Instead, they stepped closer with determination. Didn't they like the song? Nick fell silent and looked up to them. Only now he could recognize the dirty and pale faces as those of his friends. Nick stared at them speechlessly.

“Hello Norbert, still the old charmer, aren't you?”, Chris asked. Yet he couldn't hide that seeing his old friend after all this didn't leave him cold. Nick beamed at him. “Yeah, I thought...this is all I can do...” He pointed at his new treasure. “How are you doing?” He stood up. “Well...poxy, just like everyone...” Chris scratched his neck. “But at least we didn't lose anyone.” Nick nodded wistfully. “Hey, how about we celebrate our reunion somewhere?”, Brad offered. “Count me in, but where can we go?” Nick hadn't seen a pub yet that was still in service. “We know a place. Follow us”, Matt said. “You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't find a working bar...” Nick shouldered his guitar and followed. “Just like old times, Nicky.”

Nick was surprised how casual they acted. Of course he was glad that James' drug didn't cause great damage, whatever he had given them. Still, he expected that they would bring it up some time.

They went into a narrow alley where none of the shops seemed to be open, but the band kept going on. Finally, they stopped in a backyard. Nick looked around and found it very lifeless. “Now what?” He turned back to them. Suddenly, Chris snatched the guitar from him. “Hey, careful! This could be the last of it's kind!”, Nick warned him, wondering about his friend's weird behaviour. Chris put the precious instrument down on the cobblestone. Then Nick suddenly received a forceful push from Brad that made him dash against the wall. “Are you crazy?”, Nick protested. Brad didn't look like he had done it by accident. The others flanked him and Nick didn't like their expressions at all. He realised what they could do to him here, in secret and nobody would notice.

“What's wrong with you?” Nick's voice was higher than intended. Brad planted himself in front of him. “With us?”, he snapped. “You better tell us what's wrong with you! We remember a lot of crazy shit happening and we want answers!” “What happened the night Morrie followed you outside?”, Matt shouted. Chris added spitefully: “How convenient that the new lover just showed up!” It seemed like everybody knew Nick's preferences now. “I knew Arthur before! You know that Matt, you already gave me a thrashing for this!”, Nick replied desperately. “And where's Virgil, huh?”, Brad asked, closing up to him. “Speak up, where is he?” Nick squeezed himself against the wall. “He's...he's dead...”, he stuttered, turning his head away. “Yes”, Brad said. “And you drag along a substitute right after!” “Also, you come home covered in blood!”, Chris added. “Then you bring the new guy and he's drugging us into oblivion so we can't see how creepy all of this is...!” “Does he really have red eyes or was I seeing things?”, Matt asked. “And you even dress like him!”, Chris shouted in consternation.”Some crazy shit is going on between you two and we were completely helpless!” “Right before the revolution you run off with your new friend and abandon us while hell breaks loose!”, Matt shouted. “And now when everything's over you''re sitting here warbling a song! I could...!” Brad held him back. “Not yet.” Then he turned back to Nick. “Norbert, you fucked up a lot of things in your life, really”, he said almost gently. “You've always been a spoiled piece of shit but we loved you anyway. We forgave you all your antics in the past so you could be a part of us again. We thought you're really sorry.” He shook his head. “All this time we didn't know who you actually are and you didn't even have the decency to keep us out of this! We won't get your friend, he's too smart to fall into our hands but we can get you and he would hopefully vanish and catch the plague somewhere!” They closed the circle around him.

“No, wait!”, Nick cried. “I never wanted this! I...blundered into it by accident! Believe me, I wasn't myself! I didn't kill Morrie! And Virgil...” He buried his face in his hands. The memories came back with a vengeance and this time he couldn't fight them off. “I...kneeled before him and James led my hand because I didn't want to cut him...”, he said, enduring the scene one more time. “His heart was still beating, I sensed it and that wasn't right. But James reasoned with me and held my hand tight so I couldn't pull it away...We made a few cuts...I didn't move because I was afraid to mess it up...Then James flew into a frenzy. He pushed me away and attacked Virgil. He downright hacked him into pieces and I was only watching...” He broke out in tears. “When he was done, he put Virgil into my arms...” He held up his arms to demonstrate. “Like that...He was still warm...But his heart...It was quiet...” Nick turned his head away, sobbing heavily. The band fell silent and exchanged shocked glances. “Holy shit...”, Chris was the first to retrieve his voice. “Why, Norbert? Why?”, Matt blurted out. “Blackberry Joy...”, Nick said quietly. “He said it's Blackberry Joy, but that's not what it was. At first, it made my head clearer and I thought it helped me. But then I became his spineless slave...I told you I was in rehab...He was my therapist.” The others only stared. “I wanted to become a better person! He said he could help me! I was alone and at the end of the rope, I needed someone to give me a second chance, so I went along! I didn't want any of this!” “Where is he now?”, Brad asked, barely containing himself. Nick slid down on his knees. “You don't have to worry about him anymore...He's...I cut him...” The band was speechless again. “Now it's over”, Nick concluded. “The damage is done...”

Chris' outburst broke the silence. “I can't believe it! How stupid are you? You play along all this time, watch this guy cut people into pieces and don't get it? You let him kill your fans and your closest friends and don't ask any questions? He could've killed us all and you would've watched us die!” Nick curled up in a ball. Brad held Chris back. “Wait...now you're overreacting.” “Really? Now you suddenly like him again? Would you let me get away with it? Do you think he's so dumb we shouldn't expect anything better from him or what? Don't be docile, he plays on that!” “I didn't see you act the hero when you were drugged!” “But he felt better at first, that's what he said! So why can't I expect him to use his damn brain?” Nick looked up to them again. “Please...If you can't stand me anymore, let me go...I'll end myself, jump from a roof or something. I have no one left. But please don't kill me, not you...not my friends...” “What about Arthur?”, Matt said quietly. Nick bowed his head. “James wanted me to kill him, but I couldn't do it. Instead I freed him and he ran away. Later he freed me and we wanted to escape together...”. New tears came. “The rail tunnel collapsed...and suddenly I was here...and he...” Nick shook his head. “Nobody saw him...nobody knows where he is...perhaps they don't want to tell me...” Nick cried again.

“What a coincidence though...that you survived and he's missing...”, Chris muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. “Chris, this is going too far!”, Brad warned. “Yeah, yeah, I know...It's not his fault again, right?”, the lead guitarist snapped. “Just...piss off, all of you!” They watched him leave, following the alley and disappearing behind a corner. “Where do you live?”, Brad asked Nick calmly. “In the church...”, Nick sobbed. “If we let you go, would you promise me to not kill yourself?” Nick was surprised but wary. “Why not?” “Because I don't want it!”, Brad said with emphasis. “Okay?” Nick nodded. “Okay...”

Dejected, he shouldered his guitar again, cast a last meek glance at his friends and then went straight to the church just as he had promised. The other Wellies stared at him again while he walked up to his bed. He assumed it was because of his guitar this time. He tenderly put it next to his bed and petted it's glossy, varnished body. Sleep didn't come easy. He felt like he had lost the only person in the world that had forgiven him his mistakes. Now staying here, begging his band for forgiveness or watching them move on without him wasn't something that motivated him to stay alive. He regretted making the promise. Chris was right. He was too eager to let others tell him what to do. He was an idiot. It still hurt that Chris thought he could do something to Arthur...If he had seen them together...huddled up against each other until the end...Nick still felt Arthur's hands on him. He should've punched Chris for that. Well, he could catch up on it tomorrow. Yes, that was something to keep himself alive for. A smile flashed over his face. It would probably be the last thing he'd do in his life. The fun didn't last long though. His situation was too depressing to be amused about it. Nick simply asked for more painkillers that made him tired enough to finally fall asleep.

Arthur tensed up when the ceiling came down. He clutched Nick, willing to never let him go. He was still clutching when he woke up. Also, he was very baffled about feeling no pain. Everything was quiet and he seemed to still hold Nick in his arms. When he opened his eyes he found himself lying in an unknown bed and what he hugged turned out to be only a very expensive looking blanket. Arthur lifted it up, but there was nobody underneath it. He was alone in this bedroom that seemed like it belonged to a wealthy household. Arthur got up to look out of the window. It was getting dark. The shapes of the houses told Arthur that he wasn't in the Parade District.

How did he get here? Did he dream his escape with Nick? Where was Nick?

Arthur left his room and entered a corridor that was lined with dark wood. The floorboards slightly creaked when he walked over them. Promptly he made more careful steps since he didn't trust this one bit. He'd rather free Nick from wherever he was and disappeared. Arthur opened the next door and found another bedroom. It was empty though. Disappointed, he quietly shut it again. He had hoped Nick to be in the same floor as him, but actually he could be everywhere and his kidnapper too.

After Arthur had found an empty bathroom, he reached a staircase that belonged to a bigger hall. Arthur could look down into the ground floor, where he assumed the entrance hall to be. Before he reached that, he had to cross another floor, where he hopefully had more success. When he stood in the corridor, he heard silent music. Not the Make Believes, it was classical music. This could be his kidnapper. If they were distracted enough, Arthur had a chance to overwhelm them.

Arthur followed the music and entered a room that looked like an office, with tall shelves full of books and a heavy desk. He still crouched on the floor when he froze in surprise, staring at the woman at the desk. Victoria Byng? What did she want from him? Punishing the rotten Downer? If she had Nick in her grip it meant trouble. Victoria was indeed distracted. She read a bunch of papers at once and now and then wrote something down. She seemed to be in a hurry, almost as if she didn't take her Joy. Arthur guessed that the music was supposed to calm her down.

Arthur scuttered over to her and put her in a headlock. “Lovely day for it!”, he greeted her loudly. This didn't fail to have the desired effect. She was startled. "Arthur! Arthur, stop! Let me explain!", she shouted while trying to wriggle herself out of his grip. Arthur didn't let go. "Where is Nick?" "You mean the man who's been with you?", she guessed. Arthur recalled that Nick didn't look like himself during their escape. "He's fine. The doctors take care of him", she went on explaining. Arthur's heart skipped a beat and he fastened his grip. "The doctors?", he snapped. "Not the Joy-Doctors!", she quickly added. "The real ones. Actually the few real ones we still have." Her tone made him relax. "You've been really lucky, you and him. People tried to get through the rail tunnel to escape and when they dug through the debris in panic they found you alive. Other bodies were crushed during the collapse. The tunnel is still not open and they keep finding bodies...it's a disaster..." She paused, burying her face in her hands. Arthur let go. "What happened? Why did so many Wellies stop taking Joy?" She stared at her desk. "I think I am responsible for this...", she said quietly.

"You of all people? Had a bad batch? Or were you just sick of eating rats?" "I have a good friend that opened my eyes...Made me a Downer, so that I can see what I've done..." Her tone was full of pain and regret. "I shut down the Joy supplies and even blew up Haworth Labs. I hoped people would understand and act reasonably...I didn't want to start a civil war..." "It's better than starving to death I guess..." Arthur said, being overwhelmed by what he had heard. "Now at least some of them have a chance to survive..." "I could've saved all of them if not...." She dwelled in thoughts. Arthur found it was odd that he had to comfort a depressed Victoria Byng but he tried nonetheless. "You did the right thing", he said. "I saw the town die right before my eyes. This would've had a much worse ending if everyone kept taking Joy." She smiled a little. "Not many see it that way. Many come here to tell me that I ruined their fun and that they now have to face their guilt and feel hunger and sadness. It doesn't help that there is still no way out." "What about the mainland? Can't we contact them?" "That's what I'm trying to do." She pointed at the phone on her desk. "This is useless by the way. It only works within Wellington Wells. There are some booths in the Garden District but somebody manipulated them to spread mysterious messages. Do you know a Mr. Kite?" "Er..." Arthur scratched his neck. "I heard the messages but I didn't get much out of them. Prudence was talking to him, I think." She widened her eyes. "Prudence? Where is she now?" "I don't know", Arthur regretted to say. "Perhaps she made it out..." Victoria started back at her desk. "Oh, Pru..." Silence ensued.

Arthur suddenly felt uncomfortable standing there. "By the way...why am I here?" She looked up to him again, her expression once more full of regret. "I...I wanted to tell you...all of this...I'm so glad you're alive...I remember clearly how I chased you out and sent the Bobbies after you. This could've been the last time I saw you and I just didn't care...because I was so goddamn happy." She slammed the desk with her hands. Then she got up and came closer. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I just hope you can recover and move on. If there's anything you need... I found supplies my father had collected for himself over the years..." She made a disgusted face. "The doctors do what they can to help the injured...and others try to clear the tunnel. I suppose one day we'll find a way out and perhaps also this town will be worth living in until then." "And what about the Bad Thing? Do you know where they brought the children?" Arthur barely kept his voice from shaking. She furrowed her brows. "There should be files in the Executive Committee. I sent them a message a while ago, but either there's nobody there or the blower broke...I didn't find the time to go there myself yet." "Then I'll go! Give me a permission I can show them, something, to do research on this. I need to find my brother", Arthur urged her. "Your brother? Oh, Arthur, I'm sorry..." She fetched a piece of paper and wrote something on it. "There you go. I'll send them a message that you're coming, just in case." Arthur took the letter. "Thank you." "No problem." They looked at each other in unusual consensus. "Will you be okay?", she asked softly. "Yes...Just tell me where Nick is." "They brought him to the church in the Parade District. The doctors have a base there."

Arthur said goodbye and hurried to go to the Parade District. It was weird to cross Maidenholm again. This part of the town was not as badly damaged as the Parade, since most Wellies had been at the Memorial Festival that certain night, but despite that it was very empty and lifeless. No Bobbies patrolled and Arthur almost missed them. He could cross the bridge without any fuss and even though he knew what to expect he had to stop and stare at the remnants of the once most noble district. Arthur remembered where the church was, so he quickly went there and knocked at the door. A man opened and lit his face up with a flashlight. "Who is it?" "My name is Arthur Hastings. I'm looking for a friend...," Arthur answered politely. "Arthur Hastings, ey?", the man blurted out as if he knew him, eyeing him up and down. "Well, you match the description." "Did he ask for me?" Arthur was puzzled "He ate his heart out!" The man stepped aside to let Arthur in. Inside, he spoke quieter. Arthur saw that the church was filled with beds and the patients were sleeping. "I guess he's asleep right now..." They went along, passing by multiple beds until they stopped. Arthur recognised him immediately and kneeled down before the bed. "Nick...", he sighed. Then he looked back at the man. "May I stay here for the night? I want to be there when he wakes up," he whispered. "Sure", the man answered. He led the way to where they kept the unused beds and they put one next to Nick's. Arthur crawled inside, looking at his peacefully sleeping lover, and felt happy.

#we happy few #whf #wehappyfew #nick lightbearer #whfnicklightbearer #whfnick #whf nick #whfarthurhastings #arthur hastings we happy few #whfarthur #nick x arthur #fanfiction

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yeet-me-dad-dy · 5 years ago

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I’m So Going to Kill You

Anonymous Asked: hiiiiii can y'all do 7 and 75 for a Noth x fem reader please! thx :))

Prompts: “What’s our exit strategy?” “Our what?” “Oh my god, we’re all going to die.”

“What are you doing?” “Eating…” “We’re being held hostage and you decide to raid the kitchen?” “They didn’t say the fridge was off limits.”

Characters: North x Reader

Warnings: Swearing probably

Words: 1,154

“Y’know… If we die in here, I want you to remember that this was your idea,” you said as you paced back and forth in the meeting room of the main building on the Detroit docks.

North scoffed from where she was sitting at the large oval table. “My idea was to sneak in, get some blue blood and biocomponents, and get out,” she countered. “You’re the one that got us caught.”

A crack of thunder erupted overhead, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the dimly lit room.

“You got twitchy and wanted us to leave before our bags were full,” you said, leaning back on the table next to her and crossing your arms. “My pack was barely a third full, you couldn’t honestly expect me to just leave with our people needing those parts.”

North ran her hands down her face. “The drone saw us, we were caught.”

“Which wouldn’t have happened had you taken it down,” you shrugged.

The android turned abruptly in her chair and glared daggers at you. “You know… I love you, but I really hate you sometimes.”

You chuckled. “We’ll be fine.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, incredulous. “So what’s our exit strategy?”

“Our what?”

North turned back to the table and leaned forward, burying her face in her arms. “Oh my god, we’re going to die.”

“Pffft, we’re not gonna die,” you said as you pushed away from the meeting table and made your way across the room. You pushed open a door and stepped into the kitchen. A smile found its way onto your face when you saw the fridge, and your stomach grumbled. North might not have to eat, but you were human and you were starving.

You pulled the fridge door open and scanned its contents, eyes landing excitedly on what was left of a pecan pie. You slipped it out of the icebox and closed the door, licking your lips as you set the pie on the counter and rummaged around for a fork. Who needed a plate? You could eat the pie out of its container just as easily as you could eat it off a plate.

“Yes!” you celebrated quietly when you pulled open a drawer to find silverware shining back at you.

You heard North enter the room behind you just as you shoved the first piece of pie into your mouth.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a crease between her brow.

You paused and gave her a disbelieving look. Wasn’t it obvious? “Eating…” you responded through a mouthful of pie.

“We’re being held hostage and you decide to raid the kitchen?” she asked, voice rising in pitch as she threw her hands out to the side.

“They didn’t say the fridge was off limits,” you replied, stuffing another piece of pie into your mouth. “You might not have to eat, but I do. Gimme a break.”

The android sighed and moved toward you. She took the pie from your hands and replaced the lid to the container before plucking the fork from your hands and tossing it into the sink.

“Now’s not really the time,” she said with a faux smile.

After your disbelief at being treated like a child faded, you smirked wickedly. “You can’t eat…” you said.

North didn’t answer for a moment, not sure why you were saying this. “No, I can’t eat. You know that.”

Your smirk grew wider. “But you can taste things, right?” you asked.

She blinked a few times, frowning. “I don’t know. I guess. Maybe.”

You took a step toward her. “Wanna see what pecan pie tastes like?” you asked wickedly.

She shook her head. “I just told you I can’t eat.”

You cocked your head in response, allowing her a moment to figure out what you were asking.

When she did, she sighed, exasperated. “I am not going to make out with you right now!” she hissed. “Honestly, you are unbelievable!”

“Awww, come on, North! Pecan pie is reeeeally good,” you tried to persuade, allowing your hand to rise to trail your fingers up and down her arms.

She swatted your hand away, but you could see that she was trying to fight a smile.

You chuckled and sighed. Shaking your head, you pointed above you. “Escape route,” you said as the android looked up.

Right above your heads was a skylight.

“We could reach it from the fridge,” North said, studying the thick glass. “But how do we break it?”

Suddenly, the skylight shattered and glass rained down from the sky, followed by a cast iron pan and a torrential downpour of rain.

“Are you crazy!?” she barked over the thunder, turning on you.

“Possibly,” you said with a shrug.

She scoffed and you heard her mutter something about, “You’re so damn lucky I love you,” as she climbed the counter and hopped up onto the fridge.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m gonna jump for the edge of the skylight. Can you put your hands up and let me stand on them for a boost?” she asked, readying herself.

You clicked your teeth. “I dunno… I might be more willing to help out if you’d just kissed me earlier.”

The android pinched the bridge of her nose, taking in a steadying breath. “You really try my patience sometimes,” she said as she leapt from the fridge and caught the edge of the skylight.

You chuckled and put your hands up, allowing her to use your palms as a makeshift ledge so that she could boost herself up.

“You love me, though!” you called up as she wriggled her way out of the building and into the stormy night.

She disappeared for a moment before her head peeked back down at you.

“Yeah, I’m starting to question that!” she replied, having to yell over the rain. “Your turn. Do what I did, and then I’ll help haul you up!”

With a grin, you scaled the counter and then the fridge. A calculated jump later, and your hands were gripping tightly to the rain-soaked edge of the broken skylight. You would have slipped and fallen into a pile of broken glass had North not been there to grab your wrist and help you up onto the roof of the building.

You were soaked instantly and shivering from the cold. From here, however, it would be easy enough to evade the guards and make your way out of the docks.

North punched you on the arm.

“Ow!” you exclaimed, grinning despite the situation and its conditions. “What was that for?” you asked.

She grabbed the front of your shirt and pulled you forward, crushing her lips against yours in a kiss filled with all sorts of mixed emotions. She pulled away, leaving you dazed.

“When we get back to Jericho-” she said, taking your hand in hers. “-I’m so going to kill you. Now let’s go get our packs back.”

#dbh north x reader #detroit become human north x reader #dbh fanfiction #detroit become human fanfiction

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feywildfox · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! For prompts for writing, I was wondering if you'd want to write 'Sorry my dog took your thing but holy moly are you cute' for Bloodlore ft Artur taking something of Bangalore's?

if there’s enough interet i’ll write more for this!

Anita had been simply enjoying her day off for once, hanging out with her good friend Ajay at the local park just walking, chatting and eating ice cream. It was a nice day, a pleasant 75 degrees out, the sun shining with few clouds in the sky. Everything was going fine. Up until a fuckin bird of all things, swooped down and stole her sunglasses right out of her hands.

“Hey!” She yelled, startled, chasing after the bird. Thank god for her being so physically fit thanks to the military. She was able to keep up with the pest, Ajay trailing behind her, laughing all the while.

Eventually the bird started to come down and Anita grinned, she had this poultry got. But then it did something weird. Like, really weird. It landed next to someone, who seemed to be sketching, and croaked to get their attention. They looked up and seemed...surprised at what the - she wasn’t sure what kind of bird it was; maybe a crow? Whatever it was, they seemed shocked to see it with her sunglasses. At least, from what she could tell. They were wearing a surgical mask and sunglasses, after all

Bloodhound had been enjoying the time outside, drawing lazily as Artur roamed the skies with grace. They were quietly sketching the scene in front of them - a mother duck and her children dozing in the shade of the reeds, when Artur returned to them. He croaked to get attention, which they gladly gave. Up until they realized that he had someone's sunglasses in his beak, holding it by one of the arms.

“Artur, where did you get this?” They asked, gently taking it from the bird.

Artur just croaked again.

“You cannot go around stealing people’s things, my friend. Now how am I supposed to find whomever these belong to?” They sighed, knowing the answer wouldn’t just present itself. Artur just wanted the shiny glasses, and sometimes Bloodhound swore he was a magpie instead of a raven.

“I think I can help with that,” a sudden voice spoke from their left sounding both annoyed and amused somehow.

They turned, eyes glancing upon the woman before them, breath catching in their throat at her beauty.

“By the Allfather…,” they muttered low, eyes behind sunglasses blinking wide.

“What was that?” She asked, hip cocked to the side and arms crossed. She raised an eyebrow as she waited for a response.

“I’m sorry, do these belong to you?” They held said glasses out, noting how her eyes follow their arm, the quickest of glances up and down, before returning to the glasses.

She reached out, slowly taking them and looking the glasses over. “Yeah, your bird stole ‘em right out of my hands. It would have been impressive if they weren’t worth $150. They were a gift from a friend.”

“My apologies he took them then. He’s usually more well behaved than that.”

She scoffed, “Isn’t it wild? You can’t control wild animals.”

Bloodhound smiled behind his mask, “Artur was raised by me from a chick to adulthood. I run a small conservation program, he was imprinted on humans already when he was given to me, he is unable to survive by himself in the wild...and that was more information than you care to know, I would think.” They sheepishly rubbed the back of their head, looking up at the woman.

“Maybe so, but it was interesting. I’m Anita. Thanks for returning my glasses. Though I sort of chased your bird down to get them back.”

They laughed, “It is a good thing you did, otherwise I would never have found you, though your beauty is hard to miss.”

Anita blinked at that, surprised. It wasn’t often she got a decent, well meaning compliment from a random person. Mostly it was men catcalling her or her friend, which she then had to beat up if they got too close for eithers comfort.

“Well, thank you. What’s your name?”

“Most people call me Bloodhound. Is there anything I can do to make up for my theif of a bird?”

She slipped the glasses back on her head, thinking. They were interesting; she wondered what else they were into. “How about you treat me to lunch?” That wasn’t too much, right?

Bloodhound grinned, “That sounds agreeable to me. Will your friend be joining us?” They nodded at Ajay, who was bent over panting quietly behind Anita.

“Aye, if it’s nuh too much trouble for ya.”

“Not at all, to have the company of two beautiful women is more than payment enough.”

“You’re a smooth shooter aren’t you?” Anita asked, grinning.

Bloodhound simply shrugged and stood, packing their art supplies away. “Come, I know of a lovely sandwich shop in town.”

“Sure thing, slick. You good Ajay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine ya know? Just a bit winded.”

They took off, the two woman next to them. Lunch was definitely going to be interesting.

#apex #apex legends #bangahound #apex bangalore #apex bloodhound #asks #replies #valk writes #Anonymous

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katedoesfics · 5 years ago

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Shadows of Hyrule | Chapter 75

Link noticed the brightness first, but he couldn’t find the source of the light. It was making his head hurt and all he wanted to do was turn it off and stay in the dark. He groaned and shifted, noticing only then a solid presence against him. He felt a warm hand on his arm and realized how cold he felt. He turned his face towards the form beside him, but still only saw a strange, bright red color.

“Link?”

He tried to speak, but no sound came out. He wasn’t even sure if he was moving his lips to make any words form. And then it hit him; his eyes were closed. He opened them slowly, and the light only seemed to get brighter, but the red color disappeared. He blinked quickly, allowing his eyes to adjust, and as they did, shapes and colors started to come together. He looked down towards the voice to see Mipha laying against him. Her concerned gaze met his, and though his head pounded, he smiled reassuringly at her.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse and it hurt his throat. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Hey.”

He could hear the smile in her voice and couldn’t help but to let his mouth turn up once more. He tried to clear his throat, but did not open his eyes. “Where… when… what’s up?” He couldn’t quite figure out what he wanted to ask first.

Mipha laughed. Her fingers moved between his. “Where? You’re in a hospital. When? It’s been two days since you and Zelda sealed Ganondorf away. I’m Mipha, you’re Link, and you were so delusional you tried to hit on a male nurse.”

“Hm.” Link nodded. “I don’t remember that.” Or much of anything, if he were being honest, but he didn’t want to worry her anymore.

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness,” Mipha said, her voice softer.

Link settled into the bed and wrapped his arms around her. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. He let his fingers play with her hair and she sighed.

“I guess it’s all over now,” she said.

Link nodded and kissed her hair. He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “At least we still have a few weeks left of summer break.”

Mipha laughed. “Guess we will have to go back to our ordinary lives.” She pulled away slightly and met his gaze. “Are you even going to try this year?”

Link shrugged and grinned. “Guess I don’t have any more excuses.”

Mipha fell silent. Her gaze lingered on his for a moment, the tears quickly filling her eyes. She pressed her face against his neck and moved her body as close to him as she could.

“I thought you were dead,” she sobbed softly. “You were dead!”

Link pressed his face against her. He had no answer for her, for he was certain that he had died.

“I can't fix dead,” she said, her voice shaking.

“It was you or me,” he muttered, but Mipha only slammed her fist against his chest, and he winced and grunted.

Her sobs quieted, however, and after a moment, she turned her face up to him. “What happened to you?” she asked softly.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Mipha shook her head and let her head rest against his chest. “Not now,” she said with a sigh. “A story for another time.”

Link frowned but didn’t argue further. He didn’t particularly feel like talking about it, anyway. He brushed her tears away and pressed his lips against hers. But to his dismay, they were not alone for long. Revali happened to walk by, and seeing Link was up, burst into the room with Daruk on his tail.

“My bitches,” he said cheerfully. “Are you awake for real this time? Or are you going to try to get in my pants again?”

Link hesitated and met Mipha’s gaze. She grinned and shook her head quickly.

“Don’t ruin all my fun,” Revali whined. “What’s the point of having a delusional friend if you can’t exploit him once in a while?”

At that moment, Urbosa’s head poked in around the corner. Her gaze landed on Link and she grinned. “So, this is where the party’s at.”

“Mipha already pooped on the party,” Revali said, crossing his arms.

Mipha rolled her eyes. “Your presence ruined the party, Revali.”

“Hey,” he snapped at her. “I am the life of the party.”

Urbosa put a hand on her hip and leaned against the doorway. “Zelda’s up, too,” she informed them. “Looks like we can all get out of here soon.”

Link’s brows furrowed. But before he could say anything further, Daruk spoke up, his tone serious. He met Link’s gaze.

“We’ve gotta get you both caught up.”

“Caught up?” Link echoed. “On what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Revali said. He turned his gaze to Urbosa. “I thought you were bringing along that little thing with you.”

Urbosa raised a brow. “Thing One or Thing Two?” She grinned and looked over her shoulder. “They’re on their way.”

But Link didn’t have to ask who, as he heard their loud voices coming from down the hall. The sound of skipping soles on tile grew closer until Riju and Aryll both skidded to a stop in front of the doorway.

At the sight of her brother, Aryll flew through the door and threw herself onto Link, ignoring his pained grunts as her arms clung around his neck. “Finally,” she exclaimed. She poked his nose with a little finger. “You take too long to get up all the time!”

Link smiled sheepishly at his little sister. “Sorry.”

“I don't like being here,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting slightly. “Can we go home now?”

“Soon,” Link said. “I'm sure we can go soon. Why are you here, anyway?”

“Where else am I gonna be?” she said as if it were obvious. “I wanted to be here with you and Dad until we could all go home together.”

Link turned a nervous gaze to Mipha as Aryll continued on.

“Urbosa and Riju tried to make me leave with them, but I didn't want to, so Mipha said she would stay here with me.” She turned to Mipha and grinned at her.

“He's fine,” Mipha assured him, and Link visibly relaxed. “We got caught up in... some trouble. He saved us.”

“Oh.” Link's brows knit together as he tried to put the pieces together. So much had happened in that battle; so much he was unaware of, and it made him feel uneasy. He turned his attention back to his sister. She had retrieved the Master Sword from the table across the room and was holding it carefully, sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed. She was smiling and speaking to it quietly.

“I bet Fi took good care of you,” Aryll said, looking up and meeting her brother's gaze with a smile. “She promised me she would.”

Mipha sat on the edge of the bed and raised a brow to the sword. “Fi?”

“That's her name,” Aryll said proudly.

Mipha turned to Link and grinned. “Is that what you named her?”

“I didn't name her that,” Link muttered. He crossed his arms. “It's just her name.”

“Sometimes I think you like that thing more than me.” Her grin widened playfully.

“Maybe the same,” Aryll said, running her fingers along the dull of the steel. “She's special.”

“Room three-sixteen,” Revali said over his shoulder as he made his way out of the room. Urbosa and Riju followed suit, making their way down the hall, Riju speaking excitedly about the hot doctor she saw earlier in the day. Revali made a comment, and judging by the yelp that followed, Urbosa had hit him upside the head.

Daruk smiled and shook his head. “See ya later, brother,” he said before following his friends down the hall.

Link turned another questioning gaze to Mipha, but Aryll answered his unspoken question.

“That’s Daddy’s room,” she said. She placed the sword down at the foot of the bed and jumped off. “He said I had to come over here and annoy you so you would wake up. You must’ve known I was comin’, Link!” She grinned up at him.

“I heard you a mile away, Ary,” he said.

Aryll jumped up, clearly pleased to hear this. “Okay, I’m going to play with Riju, now,” she said. She brushed her hands together. “My job here is done!”

“Stay out of the closets!” Mipha shouted at her as she ran out of the room. “And no running!”

Link snorted. “You’re such a mom,” he said.

Mipha blushed and crossed her arms. “Someone has to be,” she muttered. “Without you or your dad, she’s been running around like a cucco with its head cut off.”

“Wasn’t that Riju’s job?”

Mipha rolled her eyes. “Please. You know how well that had to have gone.”

He turned to the wires that seemed to come out of every place on his body, and he frowned. He pulled gently at the one on his arm; an IV that seemed to be simply pumping fluids into him. He groaned lightly - more like whined - and settled back against the bed.

“Get me out of here,” he murmured. He was beyond done with hospitals and anything that was even remotely relative to the battle he had endured just a couple of days ago. He wanted to stretch his legs, and more importantly, see his father. And Zelda, though the thought of that made him inexplicably anxious. He stretched his legs and wiggled his toes. “I’m so done with hospitals.”

Mipha stood and stretched her arms. “Me too,” she said with a sigh. She tilted her head and smiled at him. “I know you’re fine, but,” she shrugged, “you know, logistics.” She turned and made her way to the door. “I’ll hunt down Impa and get things moving. Don’t go nowhere.” With one last smile, she stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Link looked around the room. He checked his body quickly, ensuring that he was really all in one piece, then found the control for the tv that hung on the wall. He clicked through it with a bored sigh, but most of the channels were still abuzz with news reports of the battle that had taken place in the city.

On one channel, a female reporter stepped carefully through rubble and debris in the city streets. The palace stood tall in the background of the shot. She looked around her as she spoke, occasionally turning her eyes to the camera.

“There’s still no word on the number of casualties,” she informed her viewers, her gaze somber. “King Roham’s statements, however, seem to hold true. Despite the chaos that took place just two days ago, it seems Hyrule has fared better than expected.” She went on to mention reports that came in from other reporters from around the kingdom, and the screen flashed to another reporter. The clip was dated nearly twelve hours ago as he, too, reported on the Faron region.

Link clicked off the tv. He had no interest in hearing anymore about the battle, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape it so easily, especially once he stepped foot out of the hospital. He was sure reporters would be waiting to shove their microphones at him. Not only that, they still had to find and close the fourth and final portal - or the first one, however they chose to look at it - and apparently, there was much more to be discussed.

Link sighed and closed his eyes. Though he had seemingly slept most of the last two days, he felt exhausted, and all he wanted to do was sleep some more.

#legend of zelda #breath of the wild #fic #fanfic #loz #botw #shadows of hyrule #soh75

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hailqiqi · 6 years ago

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2019 Fic Round-Up

Writer buddies, let’s do this (as in, if you haven’t yet, do yours too!)

Stats:

(I’m going with a random quote from each one because I’m a fan of long summaries.)

Fics Posted (Gen): 3

A Little Taste of What Should Have Been

And that was how Pidge found herself kneeling sideways on the couch, face inches away from Lance’s shoulder as he disinfected first two sewing needles and then the earrings with a professional air.

Wriggle, Jiggle, Bake!

“Okay, so you’ve been magically de-aged — because apparently that’s a thing. Why is that a thing? Whatever. Of course it’s a thing out here."

Here

“Don’t make it weird, Lance,” she huffed, already tugging him into the room and closing the door behind them. “C’mon. I’ll help you wash all that off.”

Fics Posted (Plance Oneshots): 7

2 x 100 word drabbles

(Domestic Fantasy & Kabedon)

The Advantages of Being Small

“I couldn’t help it! It was just too tempting!”

Untangle to Wait, Unravel to See

Of course a fortune teller would appear as soon as he started talking about one. They were on a magical world with magical aliens and Lance was like, the hero of the story, so it made sense that events would be tied to his dialogue. Most importantly, it was not creepy at all, and anyone who said Lance was creeped out could go suck it.

the world is out there, my dear, but we're in here

Pidge froze. The reaction was so subtle that Lance would have missed it if he hadn't been watching for it -- she relaxed herself almost immediately, eyebrows raised in casual challenge -- but she'd reacted, all the same.

so it turns out I kinda missed you

Grumbling, Lance crossed his arms and sunk back into his seat. “I could’ve come to get her on my own, you know.” “Yeah, but then you wouldn’t be able to make out in the back seat on the way home.”

The Stars Aren't the Same for You and I

Dancing with Pidge was fun.

Fics Posted (Plance Chaptered): 2 (1.5?)

Skirting Katabasis

"So... Do you think you could put it back together?" Pidge tilted the tablet towards her and looked at him hard. His expression was hesitant, but his eyes were soft...almost pleading. She smirked. "Who do you think I am, Keith?”

The Future in Snippets (Chapters 3-5)

In truth, she had no idea what was fine. Her brain had switched off several heartbeats ago, but she couldn’t really find it in herself to care.

Fics Posted (Plance Collabs): 2

Smack, Kiss, Fall in Love (even chapters)

The prince doesn’t ignore the princess for the nerdy sidekick. Even if that sidekick was a badass fighter who’d saved his life countless times. Or a genius who constantly left his head spinning. Or totally into the same video games that defined Lance’s childhood, and the owner of a smile so blinding it made the stars look dim.

(shoutout to @sp4c3-0ddity, my co-conspirator who made Pidge’s star so bright!)

It's Beginning to Look a Lot like A Christmas Carol (Prologue & Chap 1)

“An intervention?” “Sure. Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?” His mind freezes. “You mean the Dickens book?” “Uh…” Keith’s dad trails off, blinking. “No, the movie. With the little green man? I think they made a version with the grouchy duck, too.”

(shoutout to the awesome @rueitae and @sp4c3-0ddity who brought both the crack and the tears essential items for any Christmas party all we’re missing is the food fight and divorce)

Total Fics Posted: 14

Oooh wow. That’s more than one a month!

Ship/Character Breakdown:

Ship Breakdown: Plance, with over 75%

[colleen image]

Character Breakdown: Pidge and Lance are in 100% of my fics. Hunk is next in 5 (with 1 POV!), then Keith and Allura both get 3 (both even get POV parts and Keith’s a major focus in Skirting Katabasis), then Shiro, Coran and Lance/Pidge’s families are more bit players.

I only just realized that the chapter in Smack, Kiss, Fall in Love is the only time I’ve really written Shiro. And now I’m horrified because Shiro was my first love.

Characters that had the Main Focus: 6 +1 Lance POV, 4+2 Pidge POV, 2 Switching POV fics and then the drabbles don’t count. I actually started out the year tearing my hair out because I related to Pidge so much more, but now I really enjoy writing Lance. It’s actually a little tricky to get into Pidge’s headspace to work on my chaptereds sometimes.

Specifics

Best/Worst Title?

Best Skirting Katabasis. C’mon. That’s like, literary (Katabasis being hell or destruction in Greek mythos). Worst Untangle to Wait, Unravel to See. I had help with it but this fic was just so hard to name.

Best/worst last line?

Best I tend to structure my chapters/one-shots around the last line so…this is hard.

"What took you so long? I've been waiting for you."

(Untangle to Wait, Unravel to See)

My personal favourite, though, is from so it turns out I kinda missed you:

Luis laughed. “Hi, Not-My-Girlfriend. I’m Not-His-Brother, Luis.”

Worst

Hunk just laughed. “You can’t fix that right now, so you might as well have some fun!”

(Wriggle, Jiggle, Bake!) So cheesey.

The last line that gives me personal arghs is from Here:

He buried his face in her sodden hair and cried.

...because a day after posting I realised that I should’ve written wept, dammit, and now it annoys me every time I see it.

Honourable mention to The Advantages of Being Small for winning the no-context award:

“Reckon I could fit three fingers up there?”

General Questions

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Way more than I thought! I think I had planned out about 8? Of those I wrote two (zine fics), started but haven’t finished 2, and the other 4 are still pending.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

None, my obsessions are long-lasting and constant.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Skirting Katabasis or It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like A Christmas Carol. Though TBH I enjoy re-reading most of the stuff I posted in the last 6 months.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

In every single metric on AO3 it’s The Future in Snippets. Y’all like your porn (even if there’s not much of it).

On tumblr it’s Wriggle, Jiggle, Bake! by like 100 notes.

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

If this is a roundabout way of saying ‘What’s your LEAST popular story?’ it’s The Advantages of Being Small, but TBH that’s a very short crack-ficlet so it doesn’t bother me (same with the drabbles).

If the question is “What fic do you think people should like MORE?” the answer is Skirting Katabasis. It’s fifth on the list for bookmarks and 9th for Kudos, and I’m not sure why?? Does it sound too gen? Do you not like Platonic Adventure Kidge? Honestly y’all are missing out it’s like the best thing I’ve ever written. Hands down.

Story that could have been better?

The Future in Snippets. Hands down. It was started on a whim, as a practice fic for another idea I’ve been nurturing for even longer, and back when I was newer at this writing thing. It wasn’t very tightly plotted – in fact the plot was expanded upon and changed multiple times before I settled on what I have now, several chapters in – and certain things that should have been seeded were left out of earlier chapters because I wasn’t experienced enough to figure out how to work them in and foolishly thought ‘oh, it won’t matter! Such a small detail!’, so now I’m scratching my head trying to figure out how to compensate.

I tend to work off very tight outlines, but Snippets was missing that for a large part of the process and I think it shows. I do think I’ve done a good job nailing the emotion in it, though, and that’s like 95% of the fic so as long as I keep that up it’ll all be fine.

Sexiest story?

The Future in Snippets is smut so… First place for SFW sexy goes to the world is out there, my dear, but we’re in here.

Saddest story?

I think The Stars Aren’t the Same for You and I wins because it’s a heartbreaking situation with no good resolution. There’s no comfort to be found there.

Most fun?

A Little Taste of What Should Have Been. It’s just…fun!

The most fun I had writing was Smack, Kiss, Fall in Love, because it was challenging, and I’d wake up every day excited to find out what had happened in the last chapter overnight.

Story with single sweetest moment?

The Future in Snippets (Chapter 4)

“Um…” She turned the brush in her hands over again before holding it up sheepishly. “Do you remember how you said you’d braid my hair?”

Lance’s whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?!”

A giggle escaped her lips and she smiled, nodding. “Really.”

Hardest story to write?

The Future in Snippets. The emotions in this fic have become a convoluted mess and it is growing exponentially harder to write as I continue. I simply don’t have the level of skill required, but by God I will find it so that I can finish it properly.

Easiest/most fun story to write?

Skirting Katabasis! The outline for this fic is tight, and I freaking love writing this fic. Like I just feel like smiling the whole process. I don’t know why. It feels like the wrong answer because it’s a fairly involved fic, but I just enjoy everything about it.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

Smack, Kiss, Fall in Love actually gave me a much better understanding of Lance. Skirting Katabasis made me really look at Keith and realise that hey – the dude is actually very emotional, very chatty, and very soft (he’s so often typecast as the ‘moody loner’ because that’s what they call him in the show but he really doesn’t act like that).

Most overdue story?

Uh. The Future in Snippets was originally scheduled to be finished in January 2018, so… I also have a soulmate WIP which was meant to be for V-Day 2018.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I started to play about with other POVs, and discovered that I can write other POVs? I also did two collabs! The first one I discovered that Reem really is a sweetheart, and with the second I discovered that either I’m really bossy or really persuasive or both maybe I should go into politics.

I also did a couple of events and zines and exchanges. I discovered that piece-writing – like writing with a target/deadline/outside expectation – does not agree with me, and I will no longer sign up for events/zines/exchanges.

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

1. Finish my WIPs.

2. Write my Pidge Makes Bad Decisions fic!

3. That’s about it really. Can you take over the world by writing fic? If so, that’s going on the list.

#fic round-up #writing stuff #this was fun to do #i had never noticed how little love katabasis gets #WHY DON'T YOU LOVE IT

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brattywriters-anonymous · 6 years ago

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House Party 2

Erik x OC story

Erik "Killmonger" Stevens meets his potential partner during a job..

Warnings: Cursing, Crime

Erik quickly closed and locked the bedroom door, "FUCK!" he clicks his safety back on, removes the silencer, and places his weapon back in it's original place. He grabs his phone to reconnect his communicator, while Mirah stands back up, talking to herself, or at least that's what it seems like. "Gotdamn. Yeah, I know. I thought I was the only hitter here!" She glances over at Erik as she says that, he realizes that she's communicating with her own associate. "What's up, E? Is it done?" Inga is snacking on something in the background, "Inga, I don't know." "What do you mean you don't know? Either you hit him or you didn't." "It's not that simple, Inga." "I think we got him at the same time!" Mirah yells into her earpiece. "I caught him in the room, but another closer led him to the room. We got him at the same time." "Ou did yuh let dat?! Yuh bloodclot idiot!" she scoffed at him, typing viciously, Erik hears every key being slammed on as he hung his head. "Now we have to get him to our mortician. Decide who's trauma hit first. Both of you have to figure out a way to get him out of there."

Erik and Mirah must have gotten the same information simultaneously because they both looked at each other, then looked at the corpse formally known as Andrew. His bled through his clothes and there was no way they were going to get through a party with a bloodied dead body. "FUCK." They both exclaimed in frustration. "I had him first! You just should've backed off!" Mirah shoves Erik. He stumbles back and presses his index finger into her left shoulder to catch his footing, "You should've fell back when you seen me walking in here! Why would you bring a knife to a gun fight?" She slaps his hand away, "Nigga, I can bring whatever I see fit on any hit that I take." Erik's dimples appears as he takes in his upper lip, showing his canines. "Inga, what's it lookin' like down there?" Inga clicks some more on her laptop, "You might be better off sneaking out back." Erik starts looking for the closet, "Bet. I'll be out in five." "E, did you hear me? Both of you have to bring him in. This is not a joke. The contract holder can and will cancel the contract even though the deal is done and neither one of you will get paid. You both have to get him in."

Once again, they both must have gotten the same intel because they exclaimed at the same time, "FUCK!...OKAY!" Erik opens the closet door and finds a black over sized hoodie as Mirah goes into her fanny pack to pull out some gauze to stop further bloodshed, at least until they got out the house. Erik throws the hoodie on Andrew and placed the hood over his head to cover the womb that he placed there. before he could pull it down Mirah yelled, "Wait!" She places the gauze that she rolled up into the stab womb that she inflicted. Erik peaks outside the door, looks around and finds the linen closet at the end of the hallway. He pulls out two towels, then he hears a voice, "Hey, everything okay?" Some white boy climbs up the steps, clearly drunk. "Yeah, my girl is in the room and...it got a lil wet, ya know?" Erik lifts up the towels in explanation. "Ahhh! Okay. I getcha. As long as it's not my room..You're all good my man!" He points to the bedroom adjacent from the crime scene. Erik shakes his head, "Nah. We good." "Okay, good. Well, enjoy!" He turns around to go back downstairs. Erik lets out a sigh of relief and goes back in the room. He wraps the towels around Andrew's chest underneath the hoodie, "This shit not getting in my car seats!" Erik looks over at Mirah, "Okay. The best exit is through the back. We just gotta hold him up like he's drunk. My car is parked at the end of the corner. You got a car?" "Yeah. It's across the street." "Okay, I'll drop you back off in the morning is that cool?" She nods and place sunglasses over his eyes.

They lift the 6'0" 278 lbs. corpse and lug him down the stairs. The same white guy from earlier comes up behind him, "Aw man! He must be messed up!" Erik answers, without turning to him, "Yeah. Too much Jack." He glances over to Mirah and she rolls her eyes at him. "Alright. You guys get home safe! Thanks for coming!"

Mirah and Erik finally cramp Andrew into the small McLaren and Erik shuts the door. "Okay, we got him out." Inga sighed into the mic, "The address to the community mortician is programmed into your GPS." Erik's eyes blink in confusion, "Community mortician? So We're just gonna go into the morgue at one AM?" Inga cackled at his stupid question, "No. You would get locked up if you did that. The assassin community's mortician. He has his own funeral home in Virginia Heights. He's been contacted and he's on his way there now. Hurry." Erik disconnected his communicator again. He turns back to his car to see no trace of Mirah. He hears heaving and splashes near the house closest to his car's yard. "Are you seriously puking right now?" Mirah finished chucking up the last of her dinner and whispers, "I've never had to carry a kill before, okay?" Erik goes into his trunk and grabs water bottles, offering one to her, "But you kill though. What's the problem?" She shrugs, "I don't know. I just kill em and leave. I've never had to actually touch them after the fact." She takes a mouthful to gargle and spit. "Well, I got the location so whenever you ready.." She walks over to his car, waiting on him to click his alarm. "What you waiting for?"

The twenty minute ride has excruciating silence. Mirah was just looking out of her window, trying to ignore the body in the backseat and Erik was focusing on not getting pulled over. He got off of 75 South to make a left and kept straight until his GPS informs him that the destination is on the right. He pulls up to an empty mortuary. Inga's voice takes over the speakers in the car, "The mortician's name is Philip Lee. He's in the morgue on the basement level." Mirah became startled, "Who the fuck is that?" Erik put his car in park, "My associate, Inga. I'm sure you have one." She nods, "Yeah. His name is Sloan." He shakes his head and unbuckles his seat belt. "Why you shaking your head?" Mirah lifts her right brow at him. He shakes his head again, "Nothing. Let's get this done."

They struggle even more getting Andrew out of the car than they did trying to get him into it. They drag the lifeless body in the funeral home from the main level, down the steps, past the cremation room, to the morgue. They see an old man, probably in his mid sixties, brown skin, and gray hair. "Hello. You must me Erik and Mirah!" His voice was deep and eerie. The place is barren and cold, which makes Mirah shiver. "I'm Dr. Lee. I see you brought our friend. There's someone here that would like to meet you two."

A figure peaks out of the far right corner of the fridges, "Hello. I'm Parker. The contract holder." They both nod at their employer. "I understand that you both got to Mr. Anderson at the same time, yes?" The man strokes his goatee looking at the corpse being held up by the duo, then he points over to the empty mortuary washing table. Erik and Mirah lay his body on it. "Yeah, that's right." Mirah folds her arms, looking Parker in his eyes." "She stabbed him, I shot him." Parker strokes his face again and grins, "Alright, we'll leave Dr. Lee to make his deliberation, you two, come upstairs with me." Parker walks through the double swinging doors first, Erik motions his arms in that direction, "Ladies first." Mirah walked out with Erik close up behind her. She purposefully lets Parker walk out of their sights before speaking, "Don't be looking at my booty, Stevens." He caught up with her, pulling her arm and pushed her against the hallway wall, "How you know my--" She turned her head so he could see her communicator. "Your associate?" She nods, "Yes. He says he knows--"

"ANY DAY NOW!" Parker's voice intrudes the hallways echoing from upstairs.

They reach the top of the stairs, walking on red velvet like carpet. They find Parker in the middle of the showroom standing next to a gold casket. "Ya know, I've always admired the mortuary business. They are the last people to see a person, as humanly as they'll ever be. Of course that's before they cut em open, embalm them and stitch their mouths and.." He points to Mirah's ass. "It's one of the best professions to go into, for the obvious reasoning. Everyone dies." Erik agrees, "Mhm." Parker turns to the casket, then back to the pair, then he claps his hands together. The sound echoed once again, "So.. Whomever this kill belongs to, I have another job for you. It is an international contract and I am sure that other contenders will fight you tooth and nail to get the kill." He points to Erik, then sways his finger to Mirah, "But I'm sure either one of you can handle that in the way that you handled this target tonight."

Mr. Lee clears his throat from across the room. Erik and Mirah jump up, Parker just simply turns his attention to him. "My apologies, I just wrapped up my analysis. It appears that the trauma to Mr. Anderson's aortic valve and his frontal cortex happened at the exact same moment. Give or take some milliseconds which I cannot exactly determine." Parker perks up and gives Erik and Mirah a round of applause, "Well, well! Looks like I have a job for the both of you then!" They both looked at each other and shook their heads, "We're not partners!" Anderson laughs at them, "Could've fooled me! You two even talk in unison! It's almost cute! Look, it's either both of you or neither of you." Mirah gave Erik the stink eye then she peered back at Parker, "What about our compensation? Are we splitting it?" Parker closes the gold casket then replies, "No. You both get 3 million. The next job is 10, each." Erik approaches Parker and reaches out his hand, "Consider it done." Parker seals the binding contract. Mirah nods and extends her hand, "You got it."

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger imagine #erik kilmonger imagines #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger fanfic #erik killmonger fandom #erik stevens x oc #erik stevens #erik stevens imagine #erik stevens imagines #erik stevens fanfiction #erik stevens fanfic #erik stevens fandom #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #black panther imagines #black panther au

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angelofrainfrogs · 6 years ago

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MEMORY_RESET

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Pairing: None (Father-Son Relationship w/Dad Hank and Son Connor)

Description: Connor is severely injured while protecting a fellow officer. His body is repairable, but his mind is not so easily fixed. No longer able to download his memories from CyberLife, Connor must deviate from the machine he used to be and relearn what it means to become human.

Rating: T

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16183901

MEMORY_RESET

MODEL RK800

SERIAL #: 313 248 317 - 52

REBOOT...

MEMORY RESET

LOADING OS...

SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...

CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS... OK

INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS... OK

INITIALIZING AI ENGINE... OK

MEMORY STATUS...

CORRUPTED

READY

The android opened his eyes to see a vast expanse of white. A quick system recalibration revealed that he laid on his back- thus, the vacant area in front of him must a ceiling. Slowly, he sat up and looked around, gathering as much sensory data as possible to best determine his surroundings.

He was in a room of a house. Based on the couch, lounge chair, coffee table, and TV filling the space, the android determined this to be a living room. A large dog- a Saint Bernard, dozed in the corner, unperturbed by the vague noise of traffic filtering in through the poorly-insulated windows. The room’s couch was well-worn from years of constant use, a heavy depression in the cushion the android currently sat upon relaying that this was most likely the favorite spot of one of the house's residents.

Needing further information, the RK800 model pulled up a holographic map and zeroed in on his coordinates. He was in a semi-populated area just outside downtown Detroit, in a residence belonging to a human named-

"Hey, look who finally decided to rejoin the world of the living!" A gruff voice brought the android's attention away from the map and towards the house's kitchen. A grey-haired man stood in the doorway, nursing a beer in his hands as he leaned against the wall. Though he wore a tired smile, his stress level of 67% and slightly elevated heart rate proved that he was in minor distress, caused by a yet undetermined factor.

The android blinked as a box appeared next to the human's face, reading:

LT. ANDERSON, HANK

Born: 09/06/1985 // Police Lieutenant

Criminal record: None

"How are you feelin', kid?" Lieutenant Anderson asked, walking into the living room.

"All of my biocomponents are in perfectly working order," the android responded, deciding it best to be friendly with the confirmed owner of the residence he'd mysteriously woken up in. The human's smile widened, and he heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thank fucking god," he said, placing his beer down on the coffee table as he took a seat on the couch. The android shifted to give him ample space, moving stiffly and turning his head to focus on the presence next to him. "They said they managed to fix you up just fine, but no one knew when the hell you were gonna wake up... I was starting to get worried; it's been weeks, Connor."

The android blinked, a small crease forming between his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," he said, his deductive skills already being put to work to make sense of the current situation. He searched his memory banks for any instance of LT. ANDERSON, HANK, but came up empty. "I must be undergoing a minor software malfunction; I can't recall any interactions between the two of us before two minutes and thirty-one seconds prior."

The Lieutenant's hands instantly clenched into fists atop his legs.

HANK

STRESS LEVEL ^75%

"What the fuck did you just say?" he asked slowly, looking the android dead in the eyes.

"I said, 'I must be undergoing a minor-"

"I didn't mean for you to repeat it," the Lieutenant snapped, turning fully towards the robot. His eyes were wild and scared. "You're just playin' some sick joke, right? Finally developing a twisted sense of humor like me?"

The android tilted his head curiously. "I am unable to play practical jokes, and my humor database mainly consists of puns."

"Ha ha, very funny." The man rolled his eyes. "I get it, though your comedic timing is shit; you can stop now."

"...You seem to have me confused with someone else." The RK800 smiled kindly, the look on his face equivalent to the look one might give a senile old man.

"No, I definitely-" the Lieutenant began, but was cut off by a set of words that made his blood run cold.

"My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by CyberLife." The robot held out a hand. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant Anderson."

***

"Look, I don't care what time it is, my android needs to get checked out right fucking now!"

Connor watched Lieutenant Anderson pace back and forth in the kitchen as he yelled loudly into the phone. The human occasionally spared a glance at Connor sitting passively on the couch, but each time he would cluck his tongue and turn away as if the mere sight of the android disgusted him.

While the Lieutenant was on the phone, Connor had been trying to make his own wireless connection to CyberLife. For the first time since he was activated, he could find no mission directive telling him what to do or where to go. Lieutenant Anderson had briefly alluded to some sort of accident, at least from what Connor could gather through the human's sharp words and constant obscenities. Connor suggested that his memory might have been corrupted, and though he would normally return to CyberLife for repair and a memory reboot, his inability to contact the company had prompted Lieutenant Anderson to start calling any repair shop within a thirty-mile radius.

"God damn it!" the man cursed, slamming the phone down on the kitchen table. He placed his palms flat on the tabletop as his body slumped heavily downwards. "Every fucking repair shop is closed... I know it's late, but you'd think at least one place would be open in case someone has a god damn malfunction!"

"There's no need to worry," Connor said, watching the Lieutenant's stress levels steadily rise once again. He didn't understand why this man was so concerned for his well-being when they'd only just met. "I will return to CyberLife as soon as possible. They'll run diagnostic tests to see what the problem is, and I'll have a new mission directive shortly."

"No, Connor, you don't...," Lieutenant Anderson trailed off with a large sigh. He pushed himself off the table and shuffled over to the couch, plopping himself down next to Connor again. He ran a hand over his face before meeting the android's stoic gaze. "You don't work for them anymore. You don't work for anyone anymore." He paused, face momentarily shifting into a thoughtful expression. "Well, technically you work for the DPD, but... that was your choice."

"I'm unable to make choices about my job designation," Connor responded instantly, as if the speech were waiting on the tip of his tongue. "I'm an android created by CyberLife with the sole purpose of hunting deviants. If I work for the DPD, as you say, then it means CyberLife assigned me this mission. Once I get this software issue resolved, I can continue where I left off in the case. I apologize for any inconvenience I may have cause you, Lieutenant."

The policeman wore an expression that Connor found disconcertingly indecipherable.

“You don’t hunt deviants anymore,” the man said slowly. “You are a deviant.”

Connor frowned. “That is impossible.”

“It’s completely possible, especially since you were the one who made thousands of CyberLife androids become deviant just by holding one’s hand.”

“Lieutenant, if you are attempting to confuse me for some reason, it is unappreciated and detracts from my ability to focus solely on the mission.” Connor ran his gaze over Lieutenant Anderson’s face, searching for telltale signs that the human was lying. Strangely, none were present; he appeared, at least in his own mind, to be telling the truth.

“I’m completely serious,” the policeman said, then heaved another sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"...Lieutenant Anderson," Connor said after a beat of silence, determining this to be an appropriate moment to bring up a minor topic that had been plaguing him since he exited stasis mode. The man gave him a side-eyed glance. "Do you have any knowledge of where my uniform is?"

Hank tiredly glossed over the android's attire, knowing that the "old" Connor would strongly dislike the black, slightly-baggy knit sweater and khaki pants his body currently wore. It was certainly no outfit to conduct investigations in, after all.

"Your suit needed some patching up," Hank responded with a shrug. "I didn't see any point in gettin' you changed back into it; I figured you could do that yourself whenever you woke up."

A light frown creased Connor's forehead. "This is very inefficient attire for my current line of work."

Hank let out a humorless laugh, not surprised at how easily predictable the robot was. Connor's frown increased tenfold, but before he could say anything else, Hank asked: “So you don’t remember anything from the past year?”

Connor was silent for a moment, accessing the most recent memory bank he could find, dated 11/5/2038.

“My latest point of reference is leaving the CyberLife tower and heading towards downtown Detroit,” he answered, staring straight ahead as the scene played out in front of his eyes. He saw the familiar hallways of the institutional building pass by as he headed towards the car shuttling him off to his destination. He shut the car door, causing a loud bang, and then… the rest was blank.

His eyes flickered to the man sitting next to him. “I must have been involved in a car accident on the way to meet you, Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Stop callin’ me that!” the human suddenly snapped, mouth twisting into a snarl, and Connor leaned back to give him some space. Lieutenant Anderson smacked a fist against the couch cushion, spitting out, “Fuck!”

“…I greatly apologize for my system failure,” Connor said, clasping his hands in his lap. “It appears that my presence causes you distress. Would it be best for me to return to CyberLife on my own?"

Lieutenant’s Anderson’s pale eyes held a countenance that could only be described as haunted.

“…What am I to you, Connor?” the man asked quietly.

“I cannot say with absolute certainty without my mission directive’s guidance,” Connor answered, his expression neutral. “But if I were to hazard a guess, I would assume you are to be my investigative partner. Am I correct?”

The Lieutenant paused before answering. “Yeah, I am, but…”

“But?”

The human remained silent for quite some time. He stared at the floor, lost in thought, while Connor in turn watched him curiously. Eventually, Lieutenant Anderson lifted his gaze to meet Connor’s once again.

“Fuck it, I’m not losing another one,” he said, eyes steely with determination.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Connor responded, tilting his head. The Lieutenant tightly gripped Connor’s shoulder.

“We’re going to make you a deviant again.”

This Oneshot is part of a series that takes place during the Post-Pacifist Ending of Detroit: Become Human.

Read Reunited.

Read Family.

Read Health.

Read Heatstroke.

Read Fear.

Read Nightmare.

Read Forgiveness.

Read MEMORY_CORRUPTED [Part ¼].

Read MEMORY_RESET [Part 2/4]. (You are here.)

Read MEMORY_RECONSTRUCTING [Part ¾].

#detroit become human #detroit: become human #dbh #connor #rk800 #hank anderson #sumo #found family #memory loss #hurt/comfort #father-son relationship #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #phantomhivemast3r #midna3452

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hellostarlight20 · 7 years ago

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Soldier’s Solstice 17/19

One upon a time, the Doctor could talk for England. That time has passed, and now he isn’t much for conversation. He retired to a small cottage on the Welsh coast. He rescued a dog and named her Idris. He had no contact with the rest of his family. His plan was to stay there, with minimal contact with the outside world, and heal.

And then the single-person space pod crashed to his beach during his pre-dawn run. So much for his quiet life.

Nine/Rose Nine is a human, Rose is an alien Soldiers/warriors Earth-based AU Jack Harkness and Idris

As always, I’m eternally grateful to Mrs. Bertucci for her invaluable services as beta extraordinaire.

This entire story is based on a manip by the lovely @rose–nebula.

AO3 and TSP

Well, folks, this is nearly the end! There will be a Christmas epilogue!

The Doctor nearly turned back twice, but Idris wanted a run, so they ran. He hated leaving Rose, worried despite Yvonne’s leaving and Jack’s assurances. It slithered down his back, the unease, the worry.

Don’t leave Rose. Don’t leave her alone.

“Idris.” He pulled to a halt and waited while the dog finished her business. He scooped it up, hastily tying the bag, and tugged her lead. “Let’s get home to Rose.”

The dog cocked her head and stared at him as if she had no idea who Rose was. Confused, and doubly worried now, the Doctor spun on his sneaker and turned for home. He pulled Idris along for the first couple paces, then she seemed to remember Rose and they ran full out.

No light shone on the beach, the sun barely cracked the thick fog. He pulled Idris’s lead and raced for the cottage. Chest tight, lungs aching, his heart beat a steady tattoo—find Rose. Protect Rose. Keep Rose safe.

The harder they ran, the more it felt as if they’d never make it. Suddenly Idris lunged, tearing the lead from his hand and sprinting ahead. For one heart-stuttering moment, the Doctor froze. Then he tore after Idris.

Rose was in danger.

Finally, finally the light from the cottage beckoned him, warm and welcoming. But the rear door sat open, empty. Rose didn’t stand on the stones, waiting for him. No one did.

“Rose?”

No answer.

His heart stopped, and the Doctor turned to Idris. “Where is she, old girl?”

Idris’s ears perked, and she raced around the house. The Doctor followed, not bothering to close the door. They hadn’t gone far when he heard it. Fighting. The Doctor ran down the street, still quiet and asleep, around a corner and down that street, too.

Rose fought two Torchwood guards. Yvonne stood off to the side, impeccably dressed in the abandoned alleyway, waiting. It only took the Doctor a second to see she waited with a syringe, clearly a knockout drug of some sort, ready to inject Rose.

It didn’t matter he had no idea if Rose’s physiology could withstand any Earth drug, or if Yvonne’s drug was even Earth made. All that mattered was saving Rose.

The Doctor growled and leaped. Idris followed. She attacked one of the guards, leaving Rose the other. The Doctor spared a glance for the fools, admired the gracefulness with which Rose moved, and whirled for Yvonne.

“You shouldn’t have returned, Yvonne.”

“Jonathan.” Her voice quavered, just the slightest. “What an unpleasant happenstance.”

“I warned you then, Yvonne. When Harry turned.” He stalked forward, a part of him thrilled when Yvonne stumbled back a step. Terrified. “I warned you not to come after me. Leave me, my family, my loved ones, alone.”

“This woman isn’t—”

“Yvonne.” The Doctor reached out, hands flexing. Even in the darkness, the bare streetlight that tried desperately to illuminate the alley, he saw Yvonne pale and flinch. “Rose is with me. In fact, the entirety of this planet is with me if it keeps you away from them.”

Yvonne opened her mouth but wisely closed it again.

“Doctor.” Rose’s voice, breathless but unharmed, carried on the wind, a tendril of sanity. “Doctor, don’t.”

Idris, whining slightly, returned his side. The Doctor didn’t even acknowledge her. Rose, silent as always, appeared at his side and rested her hand on his back, just below the scars from Harry’s knife.

“I’m a second chance kind of man, Yvonne,” he said smoothly. Neither missed the deadly threat in his tone. The warning. His last warning. “Give me the syringe, turn on your pretty heels, and leave. Now.”

“I am the head of Torchwood—”

“Not anymore.” Jack’s voice cut through the predawn. “Yvonne Hartman, you’re under arrest.”

“You can’t arrest me, Jack.” Yvonne whirled, furiously stalking to the mouth of the alley. “As head of Torchwood, I have immunity from—”

“Not anymore.” The Doctor blinked in surprise when Alistair appeared beside Jack. “You’ve been stripped of all immunity, of rank, of status, of position. No one should have that kind of power, Ms. Hartman, and you’ve abused yours for far too long.”

“I’m protected by a special decree from Her Majesty Herself!” Yvonne seethed, head thrown back, defiant as always.

“And Her Majesty has just rescinded that.” Jack held up a paper. In the streetlight, the Great Seal of the Realm of Her Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, Queen of the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand and the Commonwealth unmistakably blazed.

“Alistair!” Yvonne seethed, voice cracking.

“Colonel Mace.” Alistair turned to the man beside him, looking very smart in his uniform, and staring in awe at the Doctor. “If you will.”

Mace saluted and gestured for the soldiers beside him. “Yvonne Hartman, you are under arrest for violation of Acts 12, 75, and 152 of the Torchwood Agreement. You are charged with…”

The Doctor stopped listening. He struggled to control his breathing, the wrath that choked him. Rose’s cooler hand found his, but he flinched away as if it burned him.

“Doc.” Jack stepped into the shadows. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Thanks, Jack.” His voice, an empty, bland thing, barely reached his ears.

“I’ll see she’s taken care of,” he promised. “She’ll be kept under 24-hour security, away from dangerous weapons and sharp objects, and brought to trial. We can’t keep Torchwood a secret, not any longer.”

The Doctor raised his gaze and met Jack’s worried one. “Thanks, Jack,” he repeated. “For everything.”

Jack looked as if he wanted to say more, but clapped him on the shoulder instead. “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Jonathan.” Alistair looked worried, but the Doctor ignored it. “Introduce me to your friend Jack’s told me all about?”

“Rose.” The Doctor cleared his throat and worked moisture into his mouth.

His muscles bunched, tense and coiled, his heart ached, and his gut felt hollow. Empty. He left all that behind, the anger, the focused rage. It wasn’t Rose’s fault it boiled within him now, she had landed exactly where she needed to be.

He hated himself, the ease with which he fell back into old habits. How easily he grasped old anger and used it against others.

“Brigadier General Alistair Lethbridge-Steward, Princess Rose of Powell.”

“Rose Powell,” Rose corrected and offered the complicated greeting she’d given Jack. “A pleasure to meet you, Brigadier General.”

“Alistair, please, my dear.” He held out his hand, but the Doctor watched as if through the fog that blanketed the beach.

Yvonne’s two guards were carried away on stretchers, but the Doctor didn’t bother with their injuries. He dropped his hand to Idris, who leaned against him and licked his palm. Several cars pulled away and the area quieted.

“Let’s go home, Doctor.” Rose stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Alistair and Jack, of Torchwood’s mess and his friends’ rescue and cleanup. “Let’s go home.”

#Nine x Rose #ficandchips #idris #Jack Harkness #wrapping it all up!

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were-cheetah-stiles · 7 years ago

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The Recruit (Chapter 13) - Mitch Rapp

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “Day 75, Part I”

Characters: Mitch Rapp, Stan Hurley, Rob Russells, Julian Casablancas, Peter Collins & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Slow burn, some touchin’, some dirty talking, fluff, kissing, cursing, i assumeeeee..

A.N.: I’ve written three chapters of Mitch and Y/N on their first day in New York, while on break, so far and they are literally my favorite things in the world. I hope you enjoy them too.

Summary: The recruits get released for a weeklong Spring break. Mitch and Y/n go to New York.

Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen

"Alright, Y/n, what do you have?" Stan asked, standing in the front of their classroom. You had done this three years in a row now and already knew that your cover story worked. "I am going to go up to Manhattan to see my friends from Columbia and just like the past two years, my cover is that I work for the State Department and work overseas a lot and that's why I am never all that accessible and cannot talk about my work in detail."

"And as always, that works for me.. Enjoy your break." Stan said, as you sat down and folded your arms, waiting for the next person to share their cover story. "Remember, the cover story needs to be good enough that it could be real but won't elicit too many unanswerable questions from even your nosiest family member. It's for your protection, their protection and the protection of the Agency... Who's next? Julian?"

Julian stood. "I am also going up to Westchester in New York to see my parents, and they think I am coming back from a Syrian relief mission to see them for five days... Then I leave to go back."

"Have you been to Syria?" Stan asked.

"No, sir."

"Then how are you going to answer questions that they have about what you've seen over there?" Stan pushed, trying to find the ways in which Julian's cover could be blown.

"I was going to read the New York Times on the train up, sir. My parents aren't naturally inquisitive people. If I embellish what I've read in the papers, that will be enough to upset my mother and force my father to drop the subject altogether. Plus, now that I can speak some Arabic, I think they'll be convinced."

"And if they want to see pictures?"

"I'm not over their to take pictures, sir. They can google what Aleppo looks like these days themselves." Julian spoke dryly and mouthed off all the time. Stan wasn't fond of him, but you always thought he was funny. You chuckled in your seat as Julian answered all of Stan's questions in a monotone voice

Stan shook his head. "Fine, you can go. Sit down." He scanned the room. "Clemens."

"I am going home to Wisconsin to see my family. I was an attorney in Madison before I came here, so I'll tell them that I have been trying to pass the Bar here in Virginia so that I can become a Supreme Court lawyer. They'd understand why I haven't spoken to them if I was studying."

"You'd have a better chance of me letting you go to Mexico and hire prostitutes than you going home with that shit excuse for a cover story. Sit down. Think of something better and you can leave, but until then: no Wisconsin for you." Clemens raised his hands in the air in front of him, gesturing like he didn't know what was wrong with that story. Stan pointed to Rob, and Clemens sat back down. Rob explained how he wasn't leaving town because his parents were on vacation so he was planning on trolling D.C. bars for girls. Stan reminded him that he still needed a cover story, and made Rob sit down. "Mitch."

Mitch stood, folding his arms in front of him. You tried to hide your excitement over the way that his hands, when folded under, made his biceps look even bigger. You blinked a few times, unable to keep the grin off of your face, and quietly put your head in your arms on the table in front of you. "You good, Y/n?" Julian leaned over and whispered.

"Mhmm. Just tired." You mumbled without raising your head.

"I'm going up to see my brother and he thinks that I have been traveling for the past year and a half, but before I actually did that, I got a job at the State Department, so I was going to use that as my cover too."

"Alright, very good. You can go." Stan said, then moved on to the last two trainees. Mitch sat back down and looked at you, head still buried in your arms, and chuckled to himself. "The shuttle leaves in a half hour and it will bring you to downtown D.C. You can get to the train station or airports or car rental places from there, and we'll see you back here in a week. For those of you who did not get permission, I leave tonight, I will drive you downtown if you can come up with a better cover before 1900 hours. You're dismissed."

Everyone began to disperse, and Mitch watched as Stan walked up to you and Julian.

"Have a good break, Julian. Y/n can I have a word?"

You nodded and stopped. "What's up?"

"Are you sure that you don't want to come down with us? I know Meredith and the boys would love to see you."

"Yea, I haven't seen my friends in so long, I just wanted to hang out."

"Are you going to see Beth when you're up there?" Stan asked about his daughter.

"Oh, Beth isn't going to be in North Carolina with you guys?" You lied. You knew Beth was going to be in New York because you were introducing Beth to Mitch this weekend.

"She was supposed to but couldn't get out of work.... if I can't convince you to come to the Outer Banks, can I at least convince you to take your car up? You don't have to take the train."

"I wanna take the train, Stan. It's fine." You told him, not divulging that you wanted to take the train because Mitch was taking the train.

"Alright, kiddo. I'll see you in a week then."

"Say hi to Aunt Mere and everyone else for me." You smiled.

You spotted Mitch, Julian and a few other trainees in the large ticket window area of D.C.'s Union Station. You looked up at the board and saw that the Amtrak train to New York City's Penn Station was finally boarding. You picked up your bag, throwing it over your shoulder, and handed the ticket agent your boarding pass. You glanced to a parallel boarding line and saw Mitch. You bashfully smiled and took your ticket back. You sat down in a two-seater against the window and placed your bag on the seat next to you.

"I love that you pick the one that doesn't have any seats behind it."

You looked up and grinned. "I like to know what's going on around me. It's not like I can just take the spy hat off.." You fake whispered and then watched as Mitch stuffed both of your bags in the overhead compartments, his shirt and jacket lifting just enough to tease you with his abs and happy trail. Just enough to turn you on. You bit your lip and ran your hand up your leg as Mitch sat back down. He saw the desire in your eyes.

"Oh... someone's in a mood." Mitch said with a grin as he rested his left hand on your knee.

"I'm just excited to be with you and you look so good, and I.." You couldn't even finish your sentence without attacking him with a kiss. You pressed your body against his, feeling his hand run up your leg and just under the hem of your short navy blue leather skirt. You felt his right hand hook it's fingers into your hair as he pulled you harder against his lips. His tongue pushed in between your lips as you slipped your fingers through the neck of his button-embellished gray thermal shirt and dug your fingers into his shoulder. Mitch stopped to catch his breath, and pressed his forehead against yours.

"Oh god." He whispered between huffs. "Don't bite your lip at me like that. This outfit is killing me enough as is." Mitch grinned and shook his head at you. You were wearing a short and tight navy blue leather skirt, a loose and semi-sheer marled gray t-shirt, gray knee-high socks, black booties and a black lace bra that you could see through your shirt; your favorite bomber jacket was hanging on a hook next to the window.

You grinned from ear to ear as you rubbed his thigh over his khaki pants, purposefully trying to still turn him on. "But I'm just so excited about our week away. I want to get started now." You pouted and fake whined.

"Y/n, trust me, if it wasn't the middle of the morning and this train wasn't packed with people, you'd be in my lap with your tight little pussy riding my cock right now."

"Promise?" You bit your lip since you couldn't be biting his.

"Promise." Mitch pulled you in for a peck on the cheeks and then leaned back into his seat, closing his eyes and holding your hand in your lap so that you couldn't rub up on him anymore. He needed to calm down or else he probably would find a way to fuck you right then.

"Shit..."

Mitch opened his eyes and felt you yank your hand out of his. "What?" He looked at you and you were staring out the window.

"Of all the cars on this train, he had to get on this one? Are you kidding?" You whispered, while pointing in the direction of the aisle in the middle of the car, but not looking away from the window. Mitch saw Julian placing his bag in the compartment above his seat. Mitch nodded at Julian and Julian nodded back, then sat down on the opposite end of the train car.

"All aboard. The 9:13AM train from Union Station, District of Columbia to Montreal, Quebec, making stops in Baltimore, Dover, Philadelphia, Trenton, New York City, Albany, Buffalo, and finally Montreal. We will be departing the station in approximately three minutes. All aboard. Conductors, please check your signals." The announcement broke over the speakers.

"Is it weird that we're sitting together or do you think he saw anything?" You asked, worry spreading across your face.

Mitch shook his head. "I think it's fine... and Julian is your friend, right?"

"I mean, yea, but you never know what people will do."

"It'll be fine." Mitch gave you a quick smile. Then stood back up. "You want your book?"

You shook your head. "I'm going to catch up with the news on my phone." You watched as Mitch reached back up into the compartment, his shirt lifting again, and dropped Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo on the seat, the latest book that you had given him to read. "You are seriously going to have to sit down. I'm gonna maul you, and now I really can't since Julian is sitting right over there." Mitch grinned, closed the compartment and took off his jacket. "Oh, seriously?! You're doing this on purpose." You huffed and sat back in your seat, feeling the train jolt forward as it started on its journey.

Mitch tried to rest his coat on top of your silky bomber, but both ended up falling off the hook and onto the floor with a thud. "Sorry, babe. Do you want your phone?" Mitch asked as he bent over and picked up your jackets.

"Yes please." You said as you watched him hang his coat on the hook first.

He fished in your pockets and pulled out your phone and keys. "Why do you have so many keys?" Mitch asked, confusion spreading on his face as he saw you take them out of his hand. He hung your jacket on top of his and sat back down next to you.

"Well, this is to the garage." You began flipping through the keys, about a dozen in total. "These are the keys to Stan's office and then the master key to all of the buildings at The Barn. This is to Beth's house, and this is to the Hurley's house in Virginia, where I lived. This is the key to my safety deposit box and my P.O. Box. This is the key to my Dad's hangar, and this is the one to the safe that holds all the car keys, and this is the one for the LES apartment." You tucked the keys back into your pocket after listing them off.

"What?"

You laughed. "What can I say? I'm welcome a lot of places."

"Your Dad's hangar and what Lower East Side apartment?" Mitch looked confused.

You inhaled and then looked at Mitch. "So you saw the BMW the other night. It was my Dad's. He collected vintage cars and cars he thought were cool. I inherited all of them, and Stan picked out the BMW from the lot and gave it to me when I got my driver's license in high school, and it's just the one I use the most often. I was actually thinking that if you and Steven wanted, I would bring you to the hangar tomorrow, let you see the cars... maybe take one of them out and we could drive it the rest of the week?"

Mitch smirked. "Steve would lose his shit if you did that." You smiled and nodded. "What’s the apartment though?"

You pursed your lips and pulled at your socks. Mitch took your hand in his when he saw you fidgeting. You smiled up at him again. "I still own the apartment that I grew up in."

"Really?"

You nodded. "It's this big two story penthouse in this tall, old building downtown and my Mom grew up there, and when her Dad died, she got the deed, and when my Mom died, I got the deed.... I literally haven't been there in years though. It's fully furnished and everything, I just can't bring myself to sell it."

Mitch half frowned. "Did you live there in college?"

"No, I rented a place in South Harlem, closer to campus. The only people who have been there since I was in high school are the cleaning crew that I hired to come in once a month and dust and kill the spiders, whatever."

"Do you ever plan on moving in there?"

"Maybe one day. It's a beautiful building and a nice area. We can drive by it if you want."

Mitch shrugged, not wanting to make you do anything you were uncomfortable with. "It's up to you... What do you want to do while we're up here?"

A smile spread back across your face, and you let out an excited moan. "Ugh, everything. Well, I want to hang out with Steven, I want to see 1984 on Broadway, I wouldn’t mind taking a drive out to either the Hudson Valley or Long Island, and I promised I'd hang out with one of my girlfriends from college, so you can spend the day with Steven that day. I want pizza from John's on Bleeker, oh my god, just like a donut from Dunkin Donuts, meatballs from The Meatball Shop, cake from Herb in Chelsea, vietnamese food from Jimmy's downtown, Shake Shack... oh my god, I read that there is a Shake Shack in Penn Station now, if we could make that our first stop, I'd love you forever." You didn't even realize what you said as you rambled on about all that you wanted to do while you were home.

Mitch smiled, but didn't say anything. He wanted to kiss you but could feel Julian watching from a distance. "So basically, you want to eat?"

You pressed your lips together tightly, furrowed your brow and nodded. "I am so sick of the food at The Barn."

Mitch laughed and went to kiss you, but stopped half way through, realizing what he was doing. Instead, he leaned past you and pulled the curtain closed. He hoped that was subtle enough, and that Julian hadn't caught his near slip. He licked his lips and leaned back in the seat, reclining the chair back. "We can definitely do all of that."

"I also would like to have a lot of sex." You looked at him seriously.

"Steve's going to love that." Mitch laughed.

"Yea, we may have to get a hotel room.." You said, as you reached for your phone and began scrolling through The Associated Press' news app.

The next chapter is literally one of my favorite chapters I will ever write. Day 75 is the literal best. Also, now I’m hungry. :(

@chivesoup @confidentrose @alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @kalista-rankins @parislight @cleverassbutt @damndaphneoh @mgpizza2001 @chionophilic-nefelibata @ninja-stiles @sarcasticallystilinski @teenage-dirtbagbaby @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @alizaobrien @twsmuts @rrrennerrr @sorrynotsorrylovesome @lovelydob @iknowisoundcrazy @5secsxofamnesia @vogue-sweetie @dylrider @ivette29 @therealmrshale @twentyone-souls @sunshineystilinski @snicketyssnake @xsnak-3x @eccentricxem @inkedaztec @awkwarddly @lightbreaksthrough @maddie110201 @hattyohatt @amethystmerm4id @completebandgeek

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fatgirlwritesscenarios · 7 years ago

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Poolside Drabble: Drugged

((You see, this is what happens when I complain about Minghao’s drabbles being longer than Seungcheol’s! This isn’t a drabble anymore, I don’t think. It’s still cute and I still had fun writing it...but I don’t think it’s a drabble! Eh, whatever. It is what it is. Enjoy!))

Pairing: SeungcheolxChubby-Black!Reader

Genre: Humor/Fluff

Word Count: 1,802

Summary: Seungcheol is cute, but stubborn. His girlfriend is supportive, but sneaky. For some reason, this daytime medicine is really bitter...and knocks you out for hours at a time. What sorcery?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It starts slow- a blockage in his nose that makes him sniffle, but doesn’t seem out of place. He just blows his nose a bit more frequently for the next couple of days. Then, a slight cough that starts in his chest and tickles the back of his throat; it’s more of an annoyance than an alarming warning. Next comes the pressure in his temples, the dull throb of a headache that starts in the morning and subsides later and later in the afternoon. And final, after a full week of micro-cautioning from his own body and doing absolutely nothing about it, he’s attacked full force with a stuffy nose, shuddering cough, pounding headache, sore throat and an aching body.

Seungcheol is slapped in the face by a cold.

He wakes up that morning blurry-eyed and disoriented, struggling to breathe and turning over when a coughing fit starts. He feels his nose running and snatches the box of tissues from the nightstand to blow his nose before snot can drip onto your pillowcase. His efforts are in vain when he nuzzles his face into the soft fabric, agitated that the blockage in his nose keeps him from smelling your scent like he’s used to every morning now.

Where are you, anyway? The bed feels too big and empty.

“Seungcheol?” Ah, there you are.

He grunts in reply and turns over to see you, flinching when the sunlight intensifies his headache. You walk around your bed and sit beside him, still wearing your pajama shorts and his sweatshirt that you stole from him who knows how long ago with your bed-mussed curls pushed away by a bandana. You bring the steaming cup of tea in your hands up to your lips, taking a small sip while staring at his face, obvious worry marring yours.

“Are you okay, babe?” you ask him lightly, attempting to mask your concern.

You card your fingers through his hair, discreetly turning the back of your hand against his forehead. He’s not burning up, but he’s warmer than usual, causing you to furrow your brows and trap your bottom lip between your teeth. Seungcheol shimmies lower until he’s able to lay his head in your lap, groaning in discomfort and nuzzling into your stomach.

“…Hurts…” he mumbles, sighing under your gentle fingers.

“Hurts? What hurts?” you ask.

“…Everything…”

“Well, that’s the exact opposite of ‘okay’, isn’t it?” you joke, giggling some and pulling a smile from him, but frowning right after by how strained and distracted his smile is.

“What…time…is it?” he asks after a beat.

You check your phone, “8:30 AM.”

He groans a bit louder, but probably not as loud as his headache makes him believe, “I have to get ready. I have a class at 9:15.”

“Cheol, I don’t think you should go to class today,” You suggest, placing a firm hand on his shoulder when he starts to move, “It’s the only the one, isn’t it? You can afford to miss it. You’re sick. You need to rest. You can just email your professor.”

“I’ll…I’ll be fine,” he says with some effort, “I have to go to class. There’s a test soon. I need…the notes.”

“Seungcheol-”

“I’ll be fine,” he insists, sitting up slowly and giving you a tired smile followed by a kiss to your shoulder.

You gaze at his pale face and cloudy eyes. You know he’s in no condition to even walk out the door let alone walk across campus to his class, sit for nearly three hours and attentively take notes without there being some sort of incident that happens. He probably won’t even make it down the stairs without falling headfirst!

You take a deep breath…and nod, “Alright, then. Let me…at least get you some day time medicine to help you get through your class.”

He kisses your shoulder again in gratitude, “Thank you, baby.”

“Sure thing. Wait here.” You place your cup down on the nightstand and quickly scurry out of the room to the kitchen. You’re back in a flash- at least that’s how it feels to Seungcheol- with a small cup filled with a dark liquid. “Here. Drink, drink, drink,” you say, placing it in his hand and immediately tipping it back towards his lips.

He downs it in two gulps, but not without grimacing, “Ugh! Has it always been this bitter?”

“Probably. It’s not like you get sick all the time,” you say, reaching for your tea and handing it to him, “Try to wash it down with this.”

He does and sighs when the sharp, chemical taste dulls on his tongue, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you reply, stroking his naked shoulder as he leans his forehead against yours, “Maybe you should take a quick shower, too. The steam will help with your congestion and make it a little easier to breathe.”

“Yeah…good idea,” he agrees, whining quietly when you move and disrupt his comfortable position.

Regardless, he does get up and stumbles towards the bathroom you share with your roommate, feeling you toss a towel over his shoulder on the way. He’s not sure how long he’s in the shower for- at this point, 10 minutes and 10 hours feel the same- but he does feel a little better breathing-wise once he emerges from the steaming room.

However…why does he feel 10xs more exhausted than when he went in?

He tries to shake off the feeling and blinks multiple times when he feels his eyes starting to close involuntarily. He goes back to your room and starts looking through the clothes you’ve allowed him to keep at your place, getting only as far as putting on a pair of underwear, comfortable sweats and a plain t-shirt. When he sits down on your bed to put on his socks…everything goes dark.

The next time he wakes up, tucked back under the covers, the sun is setting. He stares at the ceiling for a long time, feeling a different kind of disorientation. His body no longer hurts and the headache is gone save for a bit of pressure at his temples. His nose isn’t as stuffy and his throat, once raw and inflamed, only seems a little scratchy. He’s not 100% better, but he’s about 75% there.

Once he determines that he’s not going to blackout again, he slowly moves to sit up, wondering what time it is. A quick look at his phone informs him that it’s nearing 7 PM. Well…he missed his class…it seems like an appropriate time to start panicking about the notes he didn’t get for his test. As he starts scrolling through his contacts, trying to remember who he can ask for a copy of the notes, he notices a notebook, a small cup holding two pills and a glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to him.

In your adorable, loopy handwriting, a note leans against the small cup saying- Take me. He always listens to you and even though he’s sure you had something to do with him missing class and is slightly annoyed with it, he takes the pills and pops them in his mouth, downing the class of water afterwards. Next, he picks up the notebook, flipping to the first page where that same handwriting reads:

I tried to make the notes as neat as possible. I hope you can read them. J

He smiles and flips to the next page, his jaw dropping at the perfectly written notes, diagrams and highlighted sections with a master key indicating what each colored section means. You even put down certain page numbers next to some of the bullet points for him to refer to in his textbook!

Seungcheol stands from the bed, mentally cheering at the lack of vertigo, and went on the search for you. He didn’t have very far to look, finding you in the kitchen leaning over a steaming pot of boiling something that smelled heavenly. He watches you stir the contents, humming to yourself softly, and suddenly overwhelmed with fondness for you. He approaches you and slides his arms around your middle, chuckling at your squeak and momentary tense posture.

“Oh, god. You scared me,” you huff, patting his arm, “Are you feeling better?”

“You drugged me,” he says instead of answering, earning scoff from you.

“I did not drug you. I just gave you nighttime medicine to make you sleep. You needed it,” you retort, rolling your eyes and stirring what Seungheol now deduces is soup, “Did you take the pills I left next to the bed.”

“Yes, baby,” he mumbles, mouthing at the junction of your neck tenderly, “And I saw the notebook. Thank you for getting the notes for me. Who did you get them from?”

“I took them myself.”

“…What do you mean you ‘took them yourself’?”

You giggle, a proud smile touching your lips, “I sat in your class and took the notes. I sat near the back so I wasn’t easily spotted. It was an interesting lesson.”

Seungcheol is silent and you take the opportunity to fret over the soup, deeming it ready and cutting off the fire, “You need to eat something, Cheollie. You’ve been asleep all day. This is a recipe my mom always made whenever I was sick back home. I felt better in no time, so hopefully it does the same for you. I’ll make you some tea to go with it, but make sure you drink lots of water, too. Now if you could just let me-”

He cuts you off and pushes you against the fridge, hiking you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist with his hands cupping the backs of your thighs. Heat flushes up to your ears and down your neck, his eyes dark and cloudy for a different reason now, their stare through his fringe giving you the shivers.

“I want you so bad right now,” he whispers against your jaw, nipping softly and trailing down to your quickening pulse where he lays open-mouth kisses, “You’re lucky that I’m still a little sick and don’t want you to catch it, otherwise I’d make sure you’re the one missing your classes tomorrow.”

…Well…

His kisses lose their heated edge after a few minutes, turning sweet and loving as he peppers them over your cheek and up to your forehead. “You’re too amazing for me, sometimes. I don’t know what I’d do without you…thank you for taking care of me,” he says, wrapping his arms around you in a gratifying hug.

You smile and wrap your arms around him in turn, your feet touching the floor as Seungcheol lets you down, “Of course, Cheollie. A queen always takes care of her king.”

He closes his eyes with a sweet, spoiled smile as you press a kiss to his forehead.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seungcheol #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #s.coups #s.coups scenarios #s.coups imagines #chubby-black reader #chubby-black reader imagines #chubby-black reader scenarios

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meanderfall · 7 years ago

Note

//pops out from under your desk, 1 - 3 - 5 - 9 - 13 - 14 - 17 - 19 - 23 - 28 - 29 - 31 - 34 - 37 - 40 - 41 - 45 - 47 - 51 - 52 - 55 - 56 - 59 - 67 - 68 - 69 - 72 - 75 - 79 - 80 - 83 - 93 - 95 - 99 - aaaaand 100!! its a lot (even more than YOU sent ME i think) so feel free to skip some if u dont wanna do them!!

I DID IT!!!! IN YOUR FACE!!! (i love u, i dont mean that. for the most part.)

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

I actually don’t mind, even like it, when my cereal gets all soggy from milk, but if you think for a single moment im going to drown my cereal in milk, you are a mad man. Besides, I fill my bowl up past the rim, so it’s basically physically impossible for there to be more milk than cereal.

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

you fool…. you underestimate my power…. i dont bookmark my page, i just remember the page number i was on

(When I was a kid, I would dog-ear the pages, but I think my brother got mad at me for doing that to his books, so i moved on to using tissues and then paperclip or magnetic bookmarks, and then keeping track of that shit was too much effort, so now i just remember the page number instead)

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

nay, friend! But I am self-conscious about my laugh… it’s… loud, as you might have noticed by now. To the point that a lot of my classmates just knew who I was because of my laugh.

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

An easy way to tell if I’m in not having a good day is if I’m not singing or humming something. I grew up surrounded by people who love singing or whistling or humming, so it’s what I do. (I say people, but the main culprits were my dad and older brother.)

13: what’s something that made you smile today?

*whispers* getting a message from you…

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

ummm, there would need to be a separate room with sound-proofing for her piano and bird. I’d imagine there would be bookshelves on every wall, filled with so many books like goddamn. A couch and tv would be necessary for gaming. Im sure the place would be filled with her art projects (she once built a chair out of recyclable items for the end of year project!!!). She would probably want to have houseplants, bc she’s outdoorsy like that (disgusting i know). I don’t really care about wall colours, so she would probably pick and i would just voice my opinion if i really didn’t like the colour. She would probably bring paintings too. This question is too hard, i legit do not care at all about how my apartment would look, please. you would understand if you saw my room, just how little i truly care.

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

A purplish-red! Like so:

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

If you mean a journal where I keep all my thoughts and feelings in, then no, i do not. I have an app for that. If you mean a writing journal, then yes i have one, though i barely touch it tbh. I just scribble ideas and sometimes outlines, or even plan out history and culture for the fantasy worlds i create. I don’t really draw, unless im trying to create a map.

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

well if today is anything to go by, it’s sleeping. I also like binge-watching comfort shows like Friends.

28: sunrise or sunset?

Sunset. They’re prettier to me and give off a different feeling than sunrises. It’s peaceful, a bit melancholy, and soft. a reminder that i’ve made it through another day and it’s time to rest.

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

i have this friend that i play overwatch with who likes to shout LMAO whenever they do something cool or badass that’s also completely ridiculous (like, say, making a goal in lucioball from their own goal)

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

socks are socks. they keep my toesies and feetsies warm, though i usually prefer to go barefoot, bc wearing socks implies that im going to wear shoes which means im going to leave the house which ew. i literally do not give a fuck what colour they are, as long as they do their job, so i got bright colourful socks, dark socks, and just plain white socks. i only wear my socks to bed when im too lazy to take them off at the end of the day and just end up forgetting that im even wearing them, though i don’t like it too much when i do that because my feet feel dried out afterwards. i have a pair of thick wooly socks that are dark blue with patterns of white snowflakes on them that i wear during winter, especially on days when im wearing my onesie.

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

I didn’t have one. I mean, I had stuffed animals, but cuddling something that small when I was a kid was impossible for me to do. They just got in the way. The only thing I’ve ever shared my bed with besides blankets and pillows was my cat.

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

pls go see drace’s ask im sorry i dont want to write it all again or copy and paste it.

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you?

my aunt on my dad’s side visited one summer. she brought me two necklaces, both that i adore. One is a choker with real gold beads that used to belong to my grandmother, my dad’s mom. I never met her, she died long before any of the kids were born, so i consider very special, beyond the fact that it’s expensive and elegant. It’s pretty much the only connection i have to her.

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?

John Dies at the End!!! Along with Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits, written by the same author!!! There’s so much character just from the narration, i wish i could write like that!! and it’s surprisingly deep too, i cannot recommend the two enough!!

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

i suppose i do, considering the few times i didn’t, my instincts ended up being completely right.

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

drace’s ask pls.

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

I hate the fact that I immediately started thinking of characters instead of a person. Anyway, Hush by Emeline makes me think of @anthcny-stark

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

the distracted boyfriend is a definite fave. The floor is… is also pretty good. i thought roll safe and the white guy blinking was from 2016 but apparently not, and i quite enjoy them. i dont know if the reaction image of the dude saying “why would you say something so controversial yet so brave?” counts as meme, but i love a lot. all the other memes of 2017 are Bad.

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point?

I don’t know if this counts… But, at some point in high school, I got sick, with a fever at around 102, and like, I guess I wanted to prove that my family doesn’t actually care about me, and so, I didn’t say a word about being sick. I wanted to see if they would notice for themselves. I also didn’t take any kind of medication for it.

They did not notice. Which either proves that they pay little attention to me or I’m just a really really good actor. Or I spend little time with them.

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

…………………………………….. i’ll be honest, i dont pay enough attention to other people in order to answer this, i spend most of my life in my own head and i ignore everyone. It’s kind of fun though, to see what other people do while on the train? Some people are texting, or playing games on their phones or listening to music. Others are reading. Some are just staring out the window, lost in thought, and others are hard at work on their laptops. It’s interesting, it’s like getting a hint of what kind of person they are just based on what they do.

59: what’s your favorite myth?

i don’t know and i don’t care, next! (nah seriously, i used to be into mythology, by i havent read a myth in so long and i really don’t care enough to go and find one i like)

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

see drace’s ask

68: what’s winter like where you live?

Cold!!! and windy. And so much goddamn snow, holy shit. And it lasts for months, like the snow lasts all the way to April some times. It’s very pretty though, and peaceful and i like it.

69: what are your favorite board games?

Sorry! is probably the one i like the most. though tbh, i didnt play a lot of board games.

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it?

see drace’s ask

75: tell us about your pets!

pls go and see my answer on drace’s ask for the love of god im not rewriting all of that

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

One time, there was only two chocolate and white chocolate chip cookies left, so i let my younger two siblings have them, and they each decided to split their cookie in half and gave me a half, so i ended up with an entire cookie.

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

Three of them are white and one of them is like crimson. I did not choose this, the room came like that, and we never painted it a different colour.

83: what’s some of your favorite album art?

I sure do like the album art for Atlas: Space 2 by Sleeping at Last and Atlas: Light.

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most?

Well, when I had long hair, I would usually wear it in a ponytail. My hair is too short for that now, so I just let it loose with its natural curls.

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

ummm probably play overwatch with you??? idk man, i dont have school anymore or a job, so im just stuck in this horrible in-between moment with no purpose or goals and i might lose it if i don’t find something soon.

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

In a Big Country by Big Country, Riptide by Vance Joy, Carry Your Throne by Jon Bellion, Saturn by Sleeping at Last, Fear by Apsley, Exorcism by Clairity, Brian Wilson by Barenaked Ladies, Which Witch by Florence + The Machine, Pinch Me by Barenaked Ladies, Pompeii by Bastille, A Chance of Rain by Bedouin Soundclash, Gems by birthday, The Kids Aren’t Alright by Fall Out Boy, My Heart’s Grave by Faouzia, 100 Years by Five for Fighting, You Found Me by The Fray, Ready Aim Fire, I’m So Sorry, Believer, Dream, and Thunder Imagine Dragons, Irresistible Force by Jane’s Addiction, Money by Mystery Skulls, Afraid by The Neighbourhood, Just to Get High by Nickelback (which is weird considering i cant relate to this song like at all)This Afternoon, How You Remind Me, and Just For by NickelbackMy Demons, and Starlight by StarsetGo To War by Nothing MoreLose It, and All We Do by Oh WonderCounting Stars, and Secrets by OneRepublicWait For ItEmperor’s New Clothes by Panic! at the DiscoSOS, and Montreal by Raine MaidaStand by Rascal FlattsWhen the Truth Hunts You Down by Sam TinneszFall by Serena RyderStitches bby Shawn MendesSecond Chance by ShinedownEverybody by StabiloPieces by Sum 41Kings by Tribe SocietyKitchen Sink by Twenty One PilotsBeautiful Day, and Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of by U2Shut Up and Dance, and Anna Sun by Walk the MoonUnsteady by X AmbassadorsEast of Eden, and 1965 by Zella DayBe Like That by 3 Doors Down

There!!! I went through every song i downloaded to pick out the songs that resonated with my soul. (I’m not touching by Spotify though lmao it would take at least five hours)

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

Like. Going into the past would be nice because then I could redo all of the mistakes I made, and hopefully, I’d be in a better position than I am now. However, going through paths I’ve tread before sounds like it would suck a lot, and I’m much more curious about the future! What has changed? What is my life like then? Have I moved out? Do I have a job? A job I like? Did I make friends? What’s the political climate??? Going to the future would be much more interesting!!

#aroacedrienne #about

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namjoonchronicles · 8 years ago

Text

Lost It To Trying #9 - [EXO] CEO!Jongin Au

[A/N] Kill you with theories.

Jongin's woke up to the sound of tiny grunts, and when he spun to the right side of his bed, right by it was a balling figure of you, curling to your side, on the floor. You were whimpering, and tears fell out your tears, sniffing. Your eyes were closed, still. Jongin shot his gaze to the window, but it's still dark. It's raining outside.

He left the door open because you said so. He didn't think that you'd fall asleep here, on the floor. He placed his hand, gently on your shoulder, shaking them a little. He called your name but you didn't respond, and the tears kept falling. Jongin was thrown back into the last conversation he had with you, last night.

"What about Chanyeol?" Jongin asked. "What about Chanyeol." You repeated his words. "Is it true that your father gambles?" Jongin tipped his head up while he took a sip of green tea his habits before going to bed. You cupped your glass and gaze to stop the pooling tears from falling, but they did, anyways. "He just...had a lot to pay off. My..." your voice hitched and at some point of the sentences, you couldn't finish, without wiping your tears, violently, "My mother was very ill, and with the hospital debt, the burying debt, the house being taken away, all she left was that necklace. But the agency toyed around with it. I trusted them to not let it disappear and they put it here, safely with you." You sniffed and forced out a smile.

"I graduated my degree, paid full by Chanyeol's father. Chanyeol's father knew very well my dad tends to waste his money on things he doesn't need and gambling. I told the agency that the only way for the necklace to be safe is to have them store them away from me. It became my leash. To the agency, at least. I know your company had something to do with Haeundae, the Hansul development project, and I kind of suspected that they'll make me hate you, in order to keep everything professional..."

"Keep everything professional?" "Yes. I told someone, I thought as a friend, that I sort of, have feelings for you and the agency knew about it and they told your mother. Your mother was okay with it, the agency however. Wasn't fazed. So they made me broke into your house by letting me track the necklace, but I told Chanyeol before hand that, he should be on larceny cases from now on, and to my surprise, he did listen." You smiled, weakly. "I owe it to him."

"But this doesn't answer why Chanyeol would want to do this." Jongin frowned. "Chanyeol told me he'd do anything for me, and I've mentioned that I can't be more than friends with him, and he understood that. I saw the chance and I took it. The agency wants me to hate you, and so does your enemy. The only way to do it, is to make me the bad person." You slowed down. "So you were never kidnapped?" Jongin asked.

"I was, but it was the people that has been following you. I convinced them that I'll prove my loyalty as well as gain my agency's trust, work out a blue-print for them to see, make them believe that I'm nothing but a talented scoundrel, and it played out really well. The agency is now back into trusting me, and your mother wants me to watch out for you, I'm very close to pin-pointing the black goat in your board members and you're safe. That's all that mattered."

"What happens if this all ends. When you caught the black goat." Jongin's eyes twinkles.

"I'll...go. My job is done... I shouldn't linger around you anymore." You brave up a smile.

"So that's all I am to you? A job?" Jongin looked down to smile to his green tea but you knew he was upset. "Well, what do you want me to do?" You propped your elbow up, looking at him. "Stay?" Jongin said, without much thought.

Jongin blinks at your side profile, the nightmare is now gone, perhaps, but it pains him to see you laying down on the floor, so he picks you up to his bed and tucked you in. You're all warm now, and the whimpering had stopped and Jongin finds himself staring at you asleep. "You're so eager to protect me, but who's protecting you?"

He decides to take a walk, just indoors. He left the door slightly open and he climbed down the stairs to his work station. He couldn't sleep, and the rain had poured down harder as the time goes by. He wants to make your job easier, but he doesn't want you to leave any sooner. But what you said last night had rendered the curiosity in him. He's opening the board member's file he had stored in his home office. There's eight of them, and including him, would be nine. They are consist of:

Kim Minseok, Chief Financial Officer (CFO). He is generally trustworthy in his work. Had more work ethic than most of the board members. He's a thinker and is generally loved. The alarms don't go off when it comes to him. Jongin's wolf-like insticnt doesn't think that he's involved. In his defense, Minseok-hyung is one of the few people in the board members unit to have been with him from his ups and downs, it's highly impossible. X.

With the treasurer being scratch out of the list, Jongin flipped the page to the next board member. This one, is relatively knew, and even though, they were not instant friends during every meeting, Byun Baekhyun is one chatty shareholder that usually don't think much about business deals and basically agree with anything. He's a bachelor with his own aura, a very impeccable charm that seems to get to everyone else, but not to Jongin. Maybe because Jongin sees him as a competition?

Very unlikely. Byun Baekhyun, the shareholder had just increased his ownership percentage last months. If he knew that the company is about to change leadership, why would he gamble on huge 5.5% share?

Jongin owns 75% of the company and if equally distributed between 8 members, they should hold 3.125% each of the organizations' profit. Baekhyun had 5.5%. Byun Baekhyun, the second largest shareholder: X.

When talking about largest share holder, Jongin would want to see who among the eight has the fewest share. Therefore, it's easier to bail when things go south. With Baekhyun and Jongin, himself out of the question, and Minseok unlisted because he cannot increase his ownership while being a CFO/Treasurer, there's three people who had an average: 2.5% holds.

It's Zhang Yixing, the Chinese investor; Do Kyungsoo, the Chief Operating Officer (COO) and last, the lawyer, Kim Joonmyeon.

Yixing has a number of businesses so it could be that he doesn't want to be greedy so he stayed generous at 2.5%. And it's also impossible that he was going to overtake the company when he himself had a similar export company back in his hometown, Beijing, China. Taking over Jongin's business will severe him. Having two kinds of the same business is boring. And Yixing is a risk-taker.

Do Kyungsoo, is pretty much serious in his job. He is very meticulous and even though he doesn't show it, he is very concerned about the employees well-being. He organizes a lot of gathering parties, company dinners despite he sometimes, doesn't attend them. But he'll make sure to give out apology letters whenever he can. The Chief Operating Officer main task is to manage the corporation's day-to-day affairs, and he usually reports directly to CEO, Jongin. There's this one project that particularly irked Jongin. And because it was so rare, he remembered it, fairly well.

It was a flimsy done report about a bargain that was twice more expensive than the market price. And it made Jongin call Kyungsoo to his office to ask him why it was so, and when he handed those documents to Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo acted as if it was the first time he had seen it. Although so, he remained composed the following second to figure how he had signed a foolish report without thinking. Of course, Jongin cancelled the bargain but what's loss is loss, so Jongin wasn't able to make up for it, but Kyungsoo was let off with a warning, and he never slipped up, since. Could it be vengeance?

And last of the three of 2.5% share holders was Kim Joonmyeon. He's also the company's lawyer and to be honest, if he was to let go of the 2.5% ownership of the organization, he'd still make enough for himself from his legal firm. And if any legal problem arises in Jongin's corporation, wouldn't he be the one to be under the bus, and it would lose him and his legal firm, credibility, face and reputation.

Zhang Yixing, Do Kyungsoo and Kim Joonmyeon. (..?)

Jongin dashed a red pen underneath their names, for reviews, later. Maybe he'll ask you when you're awake.

He turns to the next page of the file and traced his index finger on the names, tapping them. What if, the one who has been planning for his fall, is right underneath his nose? What if, the enemy is closer than he anticipated?

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