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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here.

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield…

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over.

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes...

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up…

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory.

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!!

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night…

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully…

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

#you say athena mc is smart #i say athena mc is spy #because where better to use your smarts #in war #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

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taeescript · 4 years ago

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29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯��: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?).

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts. 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive.

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something.

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down.

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say).

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?”

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects.

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made.

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”

- Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust: Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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fandom-blackhole · 4 years ago

Note

OK HOCKEY DIN BUT HOCKEY PAZ

just this HUGE, intimedating defense player and whos definitely given some guys concussions during his career

and then theres you, the sweetheart behind the snack counter who always has a hot chocolate ready for him after the game (his favourite, he once told you)

and hooooo boy has this big man fallen hard for you and your cute sweater and smile and the way you write his name on his little styrofoam cup of cocoa~

All I wanna to say is I know I have a bunch if older asks I need to get to, but THIS has been on my brain since I read it and I think I need soft Paz after posting the angst earlier.....

Also I know NOTHING about hockey, but I do like to watch it and think its hot af lmao...

The consessions job at the local hockey rink was only supposed to be a temporary job for you while you worked on your masters degree. In fact the position you had been hired for was only supposed to for a single hockey season. But said season came and went, and when asked to work at the hockey rink year round you had readily agreed, not because you liked the job, infact you found it stressful to add onto your schoolwork as well as agitating with having to deal with pretentious customers, but because the star defensive player of the Mythosaurs, Paz Vizsla, was sweet and caring and you may or may not have developed feelings for him over the course of the first seasons games.

The first time you had met the giant of a man, was after the Mythosaurs' first game of the season. You had been abandoned by the other workers to clean and take stock before closing and you had angrily been scrubbing at a mustard stain for five minutes when you had heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, ready to tell off whoever was there, knowing you had every right because you were technically closed, but instead you ended up staring silently with wide eyes and half open mouth as you made eye contact with a sweat(?) and large imposing figure wearing a tight shirt with the number 26 and the Mythosaurs team name stretched across his chest. Gulping you gave him a shaky smile when he had smiled at you. Before you could even say anything he spoke up, saying, "I know you are closed, but I was just hoping you may have any spare hot cocoa left over for the night," you found yourself only nodding and feeling a warm stirring at his deep breath. As you made him a large cup of the left over cocoa and handed it to him, you hand come to the conclusion, you either were terrified of him beyond comprehension or you absolutely and utterly attracted to him. After that first night you found yourself volunteering to close, just so that you would be able to see the large hulking figure and recieve one of his blinding smiles. You got so good at closing, that by the time Paz came around after a month, you had completely finished all the closing chores and had time to doodle little figures or animals or even the team mascot on Paz’s cups and have his drink ready for him by the time he walked out of the locker room.

After you had agreed to work year around, that was when you were shocked with a sudden revelation. You had been working one afternoon when the rink was open for skating lessons and just open to the public. Work had been steady, and you found yourself smiling as watched younger kids trying and walk past on skates, several loosing their balance and falling on their butts. You were slightly disappointed that from where your stand was situated you weren't able to watch the kids learning their way around. On your break though, you did manage to sneak out with a soft smile on your face, only to stop dead in your tracks seeing Paz bent over holding a young girls hands, keeping her steady as he skated through the rink with her. You couldn't help but place a hand on your lower belly trying to quell the heat that was rising there from the sight of the large man clearly whispering reassuring things to the girl. You had run back to the consessions after that, hoping to finish out the day and push the sight from your head. But nothing seemed to quell that warmth, and by the time your favorite hockey player came strutting up the the counter, you could only hand Paz his hot cocoa while looking away, flustered. Paz had instantly thought something was wrong, scared he'd done something to upset you when you didn't look at him. You heard him gingerly set his cup to the side of the counter and launched over it, landing in front of you, before cupping your face and making you look at him, instantly asking if you were okay. Gulping you knew your chest was heaving, and you let out a whimper before nodding your head, knowing your voice would not work in that moment. Then he softly lowered his voice, asking, "Then what is wrong, darling?"

Groaning you bit your lip and looked up at him through your lashes, you said, "I..I saw you helping a little girl on the ice earlier...and..."

"And," he whispered as he brushed your cheek with his thumb, waiting patiently for your answer. You took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut, "and i-it was probably one of the hottest and cutest things I've ever seen in my life. And I realized in that moment just how much I want you."

Paz froze and searched you face for any lie or deceit, be fore he slowly said, "Darling are you saying that...."

In that second you opened your eyes again and made eye contact, as you gathered up all your courage and said, "Paz, I have never felt as hot and bothered as I did in that moment, or as I still do. I cant shake the feeling no matter what I do. I...I want you so badly...."

What you hadn't expected was for Paz to pick you up and throw you over his shower. You yelped, as he launched over the counter again, pulling a worker who was wiping tables a few feet away telling them to finish your shift with a growl that did nothing but sent heat shooting through your belly. You didn't even have time to ask him what he was doing before you found yourself pressed to the locker room wall with his hot mouth on yours. Paz kept whispering about how much he had dreamed of holding you like this, kissing you like this, being with you like this. You were helpless to stop his onslaught of words or touches, only able to make pitiful noises and say Paz’s name as his hands finally started slipping under your thick sweater.

By the time the two of you walked out of the locker room, you both were overly pleased and had satisfied, happy smiles on your face. After you ran to grab your things from you work locker, Paz grabbed your hand and said, "I know I should have asked this before everything we just did, but, darling, may I take you out to dinner?"

P. 2/Prequel

#did i go overboard? yes #do i have so many thots about this? yes #do i have thots about how din is the offense star and be is head over heels for Luke Skywalker the local and famous figure skater??? yes #ask for more and I WILL write it #paz vizsla x reader #paz x reader

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actualsunflower · 3 years ago

Note

ur art is rlly inspiring for me... I struggle a lot with line art, would u be ok giving advice? I rlly love ur art

I'm really sorry I left this in my inbox for long, I've just been trying to figure out how to answer fjdfskf but first that makes me very happy that you find my art so inspiring 🥺 really, I've worked so hard on my art for so long, and I struggle so bad to see it as good and worthy of even sharing. Looking back at old art I can see the progress, but it's still hard to look at it and call it good myself. I have a bad habit of comparing myself to other artists out there and I never compare in my eyes :/ it's really hard unlearning that but I've been making a lot of progress, and actually spending almost a year not sharing any of my art really helped with that. (I'm not saying do the same thing it's just my experience!!) Now it doesn't bother me quite as much.

See I left this ask in my drafts for so long. I was going to make a little tutorial on how I do things, see if that helped but I just kinda... Never did it, executive dysfunction and work and all. So I'll just give some tips instead

1- My first advice is to give up the tiny lines, the one teeny line at a time thing, and go for full lines. It doesn't have to be like the entire face shape at once, but do bigger chunks because the more lines the more shaggy and jagged it looks. You won't get a smooth cohesive line like that if you're going for a clean and smooth look. It's hard to get over habits like that but once you do your art And your wrists/arms/shoulders will thank you. (This only applies if you want a clean look, if that's your thing and what you're going for disregard that. But this is about my art specifically.)

2- always stretch your wrists, it really does help. Give your hand a good pull back (not to where it hurts) and make a fist and roll your wrist, it helps A LOT and feels good lol stretching your whole body is good as well, if you've got bad posture like me you'll start hurting halfway through. A lot of times though you won't even notice you're in pain until you try to sit up.... Ouch

3- USE REFERENCES!!!! It is not cheating, it's not cutting corners it is essential to learning!!! And not just learning but it's essential for just enjoying art, it takes away so much frustration of "why doesn't this look right?!" And something else nice, is if you're really struggling with something, just take a picture of yourself and trace it. I do it all the time and it has saved me many a frustrating breakdown. Just make sure you own or have permission to use the photos you're tracing over. Just don't use it as a crutch, as in for every single thing because it can at some point hinder growth. My advice is just sketch over the general shape, and then do the rest yourself. Just having that shape/position will help way more than you know. And don't be afraid to just cobble together references, paste and reshape and move whatever you want or need.

4- Play with and make brushes. I have a special brush that is used Only for Jay's vitiligo and it saves me a lot of time, pain, and just looks really cool and helps me keep it consistent. And you'll be surprised at how you feel by just changing the brush you do line art with. Softer/harder brushes can change everything

5- literally who cares about shading. If it looks cool, put it in. If you don't think it looks cool, erase it. You are the god of lighting and shading in your own art, it doesn't matter where the light is coming from. Just say there's multiple light sources even, it really don't matter

6- learn to use multiply and add layers, they are super helpful and fun. Multiply layers are great for shading AND blush, I use one clipped over Jay's face for blush, just clip, watercolor over cheeks/nose/ear tips, slight transparency and bam perfect blush (for color, I pick base skin tone, slide bar to red, deepen a bit, perfect) (I use the color box/w the side bar) add layers are great for glowing things and bright lighting. (A tip for glowing things, use the desired color, blur a bit, then use a dot of white in the middle, blur that. Extra glow!)

7- warming up is a great idea. I just scribble a bunch, do little doodles of my pets, go from faintest to hardest in pressure and back again in on line, then I usually do something a bit more substantial, which is typically drawing Jay or Nick lol that's why I always have so many Jay and Nick drawings. It helps though

8- this one I feel is very important. Don't ever feel like you're copying someone else. People add and remove things from their style subconsciously, I have seen more than once where I post in my style and later see someone else who did something that incorporated that specific thing I did. It just happens. You do it without thinking, and you can do it while thinking it too. Don't trace people's art, but if you love the way someone draws eyes, just draw them like that too. Nobody owns an art style, no one can stop you and you will not get in trouble from doing that. Eventually anyway it will evolve into your own unique way, and people will do the same when they see your art. It's and endless cycle in the art community and it is one of the treasures of sharing our art. Whether we think it or not we are all influencing each other and it's a beautiful thing.

That's all I can think of rn so, I hope this is helpful and I apologize for taking forever lol

#sorry it's kinda long #hope it helps though #sunflower asks #art advice #if you find typos no you dont 💖

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 5 years ago

Text

Non-Sequential [Ch. 24]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 3,000

Chapter 23

1943 - Italy

Steve doodled as the rain poured down around him.

His pencil traced back and forth over the dancing monkey.

“Steve?” A voice said behind him.

He did a half glance over his shoulder and quickly did a double take when he found Y/N soaking wet with only an oversized military jacket around her shoulders.

He shot to his feet.

“Y/N!”

Steve rushed forward and pulled her into his arms.

She was freezing.

He immediately took off his coat and wrapped it on top of the other one that was the only thing keeping her from being completely naked.

“Are you OK? Are you hurt? How long have you been here? Were you looking for me long?” He rattled off question after question.

She smiled. “Take a breath, Steve. I’m fine.”

She pointed for him to sit back down and followed suit.

He did as she said. Then he suddenly got bashful and embarrassed. He shifted his weight awkwardly as if he was trying to hide from her gaze.

Y/N caught on rather quickly. “How does it feel?”

Steve was speechless.

“This is your first time seeing me since your operation, isn’t it?” Y/N added, but she already knew the answer.

He just nodded, too uncomfortable to meet her gaze.

“I bet you can’t keep the girls off you,” Y/N teased.

Steve blushed. “Well, I don’t know about that – I mean, don’t be ridiculous.”

Y/N giggled.

His face dropped, “You were right. It did work.”

She gave him a warm grin. “Told you that you were the right man, didn’t I?”

Steve frowned. “Yeah, except now I’m just their show pony.”

“Now what would Agent Carter think of that?” Y/N teased.

It was such a strange game to play, pushing Steve toward Peggy when Y/N knew that she would be Steve’s second love because of her.

Y/N respected Peggy, appreciated what she’d taught Steve about love – especially what she taught him about loving a strong, independent woman.

But there were still times when jealousy reared it’s ugly head. Y/N hated those times.

Steve’s eyes widened at the mentioning of Peggy.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about her,” Y/N smirked.

“How are you?” Steve changed the subject. His eyes were serious and genuine. “Last time I saw you, you were upset with me – future me, that is.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what I’m saying. You could be visiting me from before that time. This all gets rather confusing, huh?”

Y/N chuckled at his adorable frustration and confusion, and gave him a shy smile. “No, you were right the first time. I’m visiting from further into the future.” She nodded, “Things are better. I forgave you. Don’t think there will ever be a time when I can’t.”

Steve exhaled, relieved that there wouldn’t be a time when Y/N would stop being his friend, stop talking to him, stop visiting him through time.

Y/N’s eyes glanced at Steve’s sketchbook.

“Feeling like a dancing monkey, Steve?” Her tone was playful, but the question was serious.

He quickly closed the book. He cleared his throat. “I’m traveling with dancing girls, trying to get people to buy war bonds.”

Y/N nodded, “Wars are expensive.”

“But I could be doing more,” he snapped back.

“Then do more, Steve.”

“I can’t – I’m not even officially in the army.”

Y/N laughed, “Since when have you ever followed the rules?”

He laughed too.

She carefully reached out and took his sketchbook.

Steve tensed as flipped through it. She wasn’t surprised to see a portrait or two of Peggy. There was also some of his mother. Y/N was wondering why Steve hadn’t taken to sketching any of the girls in the dancing troop he’d been traveling with.

“You ever do any sketches of…” Y/N was about to tease him and ask about drawing her. But her words died out when she flipped to two pages of portraits.

Both were of her.

She was in some form of Steve’s clothes in both of them. A ill-fitting shirt falling off her shoulder in one, pants bunching at her ankles in another.

“You weren’t ever supposed to see those…” Steve mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and lowering his head so she couldn’t see his blush.

“I’m flattered,” Y/N admitted. She took in all the details. “You made me rather beautiful, though.”

Steve scoffed without meaning to. “I only drew you how you are.”

It was Y/N who was blushing now.

Yes, in the present, where she was together with Steve, he told Y/N all the time how beautiful he found her.

But for some reason, hearing it from innocent, sweet Steve Rogers was different. He held no feelings for her and, as far as he knew, he never had a chance with Y/N. But that didn’t stop him from letting her know that she was indeed a beautiful woman.

Y/N flipped back to a drawing of Peggy. “You should tell her how you feel.”

“She doesn’t – I’m not – don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” Steve fumbled around with his words.

No matter how long he knew Y/N, her direct way of speaking still caught him off guard every so often. The only times Y/N did not speak her mind clearly was when she could not tell Steve hints and secrets of the future.

“She does. Don’t be an idiot, Steve.” Y/N looked around. “You’re in the middle of a war. You need to make sure you find something worth fighting for.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked gently.

“I’m not fighting a war. At least… not yet.” Her eyes glazed over at the thought.

“That’s not what I meant.” Then he shifted his weight, trying to decide if he should say what he wanted to. “I meant… is there someone back where you’re from – uh – telling you – telling you that you’re beautiful.”

Y/N smirked at Steve’s awkwardness. He’d lost so much of it after all of his hardships. He’d gained so much more confidence; he was more self-assured now.

“I do,” she admitted softly.

She was going to make another joke about him drawing her, but the words got caught in her throat when she flipped to the next page.

Bucky.

Bucky standing with his crisp and clean and brand new military uniform. Hat tilted a little sideways. And that famous Bucky Barnes smirk on his lips.

Y/N’s fingers traced over the lines without even realizing it.

“He’s missing,” she blurted out.

“What?”

Her eyes shot up to him. “You’re going to find out in a few minutes. This is the 107th – or what’s left of it, I guess.”

“Y/N, you never tell – what are you saying? Bucky – is he – is he dead?”

“No, he’s alive. A prisoner of war, but alive.”

“You’ve never told me something like that before,” Steve said slowly, clearly still trying to process the news.

“Sometimes I get sick of fighting time,” Y/N sighed.

“I have to go after him,” Steve’s shoulders straightened and he was handling a surge of determination.

Y/N smiled, “Yes, you do.”

Then fear filled his gaze, “I know you can’t - or you won’t – tell me…but is he – will he be OK?”

Y/N stared into his eyes for a moment. “Yes, he will be fine.”

‘For now…’ she added in her mind.

Steve was surprised she continued to tell him of the future.

Y/N looked over her shoulder as if she could see something. But when Steve followed her gaze, not even his super-soldier sight spotted anything.

“I have to run before she finds you,” Y/N told him. “When it comes to her, you’re a terrible liar. And I don’t want you to have to explain how a naked, American woman got onto this base, completely undetected.”

Steve shot to his feet. “You’re leaving already.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. But you’ve got to go save Bucky and then you gotta get the girl.”

Then she quickly kissed him on the cheek, instantly making him go red.

He made a step for her, not wanting her to leave already.

But she was already quickly turning back to him, accidentally bringing their faces far too close to be considered just friendly.

“Try not to kiss Private Lorraine,” Y/N breathed, caught off guard by their closeness that could easily be seen as intimate.

Steve’s brow furrowed. But he couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking down to her lips quickly. “I-I don’t even know a Private Lorraine.”

“Well, you will. And you should stay away from her. You should stay away from all women like her, OK?”

He nodded, not wanting to disappoint her.

“It’ll make sense soon. I promise.”

Lo and behold, Peggy was the next woman in his life to surprise him and show up out of nowhere.

—————-

PRESENT - Wakanda

Y/N quickly walked down the halls of the royal palace. She could hear the two kings guards tailing her.

One of them cleared their throat, “Ms. Y/L/N, if it is Sergeant Barnes you are heading toward, he is actually in the training facility.”

Her brow furrowed. She was going to find Bucky, just like she always did when Steve was gone and she was lonely.

However, he was alone at his hut less and less it seemed.

Y/N would’ve been happy, proud that he was socializing himself with new people more and more frequently. But that didn’t seem to be his motivation.

She didn’t want to jump to any ridiculous conclusions, but she started to feel like Bucky didn’t want to be alone with her.

Even when he had asked for him to teach her self-defense, Bucky insisted that they also enlist some of the Dora Milaje. He said it would help since he only had one arm and he didn’t want her education to suffer because of it. But Y/N knew Bucky could take down Steve with a single arm if he so wished, therefore it felt like weak reasoning.

Y/N had been in Wakanda for a year now and she’d found a routine in her life.

She no longer felt like a foreigner, but a proper member of Wakandan society – despite the fact that she lived in a royal palace.

Steve would need to leave to meet up with the team every so often, but he always tried his best not to return as quickly as possible.

Y/N still had nightmares of her kidnapping, her torture, her near death experience that she could only blame Hydra for. She was sick of hating her time traveling affliction.

When Steve asked her if she was having them when he was away, Y/N always lied. What good would it do either of them for him to worry and feel guilty about being away?

The nightmares were one of the main reasons she finally asked Bucky to teach her self-defense.

Y/N would’ve asked Steve, but she didn’t want to make him stay in captain mode any longer than he already did. He also was almost too patient with her. She needed to be pushed.

When Y/N walked into the gym, Bucky was doing one-armed pushups.

He had no shirt on and there was just a pair of black shorts and sneakers – which Shuri most definitely designed – covering his body.

Wakandan hip-hop was playing on the speakers, which was why Y/N didn’t recognize it. Shuri had taken it upon herself to help Y/N teach Bucky anything and everything pop culture.

The kings guards left Y/N to it. Whenever she was with Bucky, they didn’t see the need to linger. He would protect her.

Bucky heard their arrival and his head snapped up.

He quickly jumped to his feet when he spotted Y/N and gave a small nod of acknowledgement to her guards.

Y/N tried not to stare at Bucky’s ridiculously muscular and sweaty chest. She did. But it was damn near impossible.

His and Steve’s bodies were ridiculous. God-like is what most women would confess.

Furthermore, Y/N got to see how Steve put his to use… in ways no one else knew about.

“You wanna keep rubbing it in my face that you can do hundreds of pushups with one arm while I can’t even do 5 with both of mine?” Y/N greeted him.

Bucky chuckled, and Y/N swore she made him blush. Or maybe that was just from working out.

“You just gotta work at it, kid. I’ve got the advantage of a super-soldier serum.”

There it was again. That nickname. When he said it, Y/N realized he hadn’t used it in quite some time.

But Y/N pushed the thought out of her head and rolled her eyes teasingly.

“Yeah, I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to still do all of those without it.”

As soon as her feet stepped onto the padded flooring Bucky was waiting on, he kicked Y/N’s legs out from underneath her.

He did it so smoothly and quickly that Y/N could’ve blinked and missed it. The only proof being that she was now laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her head was aching from hitting the ground hard.

“Bucky! What the actual fuck!” She screamed.

He tried not to look too pleased with himself. “Last lesson, I told you that you needed to learn to always be prepared. Most attacks are going to be a surprise. If you don’t train your body to always be ready, all the other stuff is pointless.”

Y/N glared at him. “Way to build trust...” But then she quickly rolled back to her feet.

Without really thinking her plan through, Y/N lunged for him. She meant it to distract him from her actual intentions, which were to knee him right in the balls.

Payback is payback.

But Bucky easily deflected all efforts. And he absolutely knew what she was trying to do.

“Ya trying to play dirty?” He asked with a smile.

“Just trying to get even,” Y/N snapped.

She knew she wasn’t going to get any damn hit in. She was a civilian jousting with the Winter Soldier. She didn’t stand a chance.

But Y/N did know is that Bucky wouldn’t ever hurt her. In fact, he would put himself in harms way to make sure that didn’t happen.

So, Y/N decided to use that to her advantage.

If she wanted to take him down, she had to go down with him.

Y/N lunged for him at a weird angle, hoping her own weight combined with gravity would be enough to drag him down with her.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly as he realized Y/N’s body was about to hit the ground hard and quick, and at an angle that would easily dislocate her shoulder.

He shifted his weight so his back hit the ground and he took all of the blow, Y/N having his body as a cushion to land on.

“You OK?” He asked hurriedly. Even though there was no way she could’ve harmed herself.

Y/N nodded and smiled mischievously. “Had to figure out a way to bring you down…”

Then Bucky snapped back to reality.

He was laying on his back with Y/N laying on top of him. Her chest pressed against his. Her hands were spread across his bare chest, able to feel his skin. Her warmth was enveloping him. When did his grip on her go so low on her hips? He could feel her heartbeat, and then he felt it quicken when a silence settled between them and they realized how unsuitably close they were.

But swore he didn’t mean. He tried with all of his might not to take a glimpse at her lips. But his eyes were no longer in his control.

Now he was panicked.

He quickly ushered her off of him, almost being rough about it.

Y/N misread his panic as irritation with her.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “Did I hurt you?”

Of course she didn’t hurt him.

“I’m fine,” Bucky mumbled without looking at her.

Y/N was finally able to acknowledge that something was off between the two of them, and it had been for awhile. She wasn’t sure if she could put her finger on when it started, but it felt like it had been since she showed up at his doorstep after seeing him bleeding out in the snow. She’d killed a Hydra agent that day trying to protect him.

“You don’t call me ‘kid’ anymore,” she accused him.

Bucky’s brow creased as he finally looked up at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you did earlier. But that was the first time in months.” Then she gestured at the giant and empty training facility. “This is the first time we’ve actually been alone in months too. What’s going on, Bucky? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he muttered swiftly.

“Then what is it? Because something is – it’s off. We’re off.”

But Bucky just stared into her gaze.

He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t explain what he was going through.

He couldn’t tell her that he was trying to keep his distance, trying to prove to his best friend that he wasn’t trying to steal his girl. But he couldn’t stay away from her either. He couldn’t leave her be when both of them were so alone here.

Bucky couldn’t tell her he was in love with her.

What would be the point?

The two kings guards returned. “Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Yeah,” she muttered without breaking her stare down with Bucky.

“Captain Rogers just landed. We thought you may wish to know.”

Y/N finally blinked and turned to them, “Thank you.” Then she turned and promptly left without saying another word to Bucky.

As soon as he was alone, Bucky rubbed his face and paced. “What the hell are you thinking, Bucky?” He whispered to himself.

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

Chapter 25

It only took me 2+ months, guys! Please, please, please let me know how you feel and what you think. ❤️

#non-sequential #non-sequential chapter 24 #non-sequential series #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers series #captain america seri #captain america x reader #captain america read insert #marvel reader insert #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers & bucky barnes #steve rogers angst #pre serum steve rogers #pre-serum!steve rogers #pre serum!steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve rogers x reader

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roman-writing · 4 years ago

Text

no great revelation (3/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Tyalor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 6,444

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

III.

—

The only transport with availability they could find on short notice was a nine day trip through hyperspace on the Hydian way with a stopover on Coruscant to jump on another transport for the Byss Run. ‘Short notice’ actually being: a seven hour wait in the public hangar bays, during which both Jamie and Dani hunkered down on an unlit bench and attempted to look as inconspicuous as possible. By the end Jamie — who was not by nature a person inclined to sitting still — was ready to claw out of her own skin if it meant getting up and actually doing something. And to really make things worse, the last tickets on the transport were for eighth class quarters with only one sleeping cot.

“I didn’t even know they had an eighth class,” Dani muttered. She tugged at the hood of her cloak as they were jostled down the crowded corridor that led deep into the belly of the ship.

“The joys of being a Service Corps brat,” Jamie said dryly, then she grunted when she caught an elbow to the back of her knee. She growled over her shoulder at the huddle of little robed Jawas pressing in close behind her. “Hit me again, I fuckin’ dare you.”

The only response to her threats was a series of skitterish language and rude gestures. One Jawa even jumped up and down, miming hitting her again. Jamie was sorely tempted to get her handheld mining laser out and have a go, but there were about seven of them and the very idea of being dogpiled by a bunch of children-sized robe-rats was too much to bear.

Dani seemed to not see this interaction at all, and was focused entirely on pushing ahead. She squinted at the faded room numbers over each of the narrow doors, and said, “I think this is us.”

“About bloody time,” Jamie grumbled.

She and Dani scooched closer to the wall and as far out of the way as possible to let the mass of other low level passengers by. Jamie glared at each of the Jawas as they passed, and each Jawa in turn fixed her with their glowing yellow eyes, while Dani swiped the laminated card they’d been issued by the ticket officer. A light on the door flashed red. Dani muttered something under her breath and swiped the card again, and with a blink of green light the door hissed open.

The room inside was small enough that Jamie could hold out both arms and touch the walls on either side. The sleeping cot was little more than a slit in the wall with storage lockers built into the wall beneath. The most uncomfortable metal bench Jamie had ever seen crouched in the far corner, bolted into the wall as well to prevent theft. They hadn’t even bothered pretending there was space to make food; for the next nine days it was all dietary supplements or overly priced galley grub on the upper canteen deck.

“Looks cosy,” Jamie said, peering in over Dani’s shoulder.

“How long did that droid say the trip was again?” Dani asked, gripping the straps of her bag at her shoulder.

“Nine days.”

The two of them looked back, and marinated in the notion that they would be spending nine whole days in such close quarters that one could barely turn in a circle without hitting the other.

“Where are the bathrooms?” Dani asked.

“Dunno. Let’s find out.”

Jamie nudged at Dani’s back, and the two of them stepped inside. The door hissed shut behind them automatically and sealed itself with the blink of another red light. While Dani set down her bag on the bench, Jamie started hitting random buttons on the panel by the door to see what they all did. The first dimmed all the lights. Useful. She turned them back on. The second opened the door again, which she quickly shut. The third opaqued the tiny port hole that admitted a view of the cramped hallway outside. And the fourth slid back a wall panel opposite the cot.

“Found the toilet,” Jamie said. “And the shower.”

Dani, who had crouched down to open the storage lockers beneath the cot, straightened and turned around. She made a face. “All in one?”

Jamie poked her head inside. “Seems like it. Smells clean, at least.”

Indeed, the industrial-strength cleaning vapours were so overpowering they made her eyes water. Screwing up her face, Jamie leaned back. Dani came to stand beside her and investigate the ablutions closet as well. The moment she caught sight of the tiny mirror bolted to the wall inside however, she made a strangled noise and jerked her gaze aside. Jamie watched in puzzlement as Dani whipped back around and tried to pass it off as a cough.

Without a word, Jamie hit the button to shut the panel that hid the ablutions closet. “You all right?”

Still facing the other direction, Dani nodded. She cleared her throat and said in the most unconvincing tone possible, “Yeah. Fine. I’m - I’m fine.”

Carefully Jamie slipped past Dani so that they didn’t brush against one another. She dropped her own travel pack onto the bench beside Dani’s and unzipped the main compartment to rummage around inside.

“Don’t reckon there’s much chance the menagerie will die down until well after we’ve hit hyperspace.” Jamie checked the time on her travel credentials chit, hitting a few buttons on the display until it was set to a standard self-regulating clock so she could actually remember to sleep on a decent schedule. “But if you’re hungry, I can battle my way to the canteen on deck 34?”

“No. Thank you. The lunch we had at the hangar terminal was enough.”

Peeling back the packaging of a dietary supplement from her bag, Jamie shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, and tossed back the supplement with a dry swallow and a grimace. Another quick search around the room revealed a tiny spigot protruding from one of the walls, which delivered a dribble of fresh water when she set an open travel bottle beneath it. Jamie took a grateful sip, then filled up the bottle to the brim before capping it.

“Wish they’d just knock you out flat for trips like these,” Jamie said. “But then they couldn’t gouge us at the souvenir shops, I guess.”

Behind her, she heard a begrudging huff of laughter. When Jamie turned around it was to find Dani with her hands around her stomach, as though trying to give herself the galaxy’s most ineffective hug. Dani glanced up and shuffled her weight back and forth in obvious discomfort. Even now, standing as far from one another as they could, Jamie could easily reach out and touch her if she tried.

“I - uh -” Dani made a feeble gesture towards the panel that hid the ablutions closet. “I thought I saw something. That’s all.”

Jamie shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Not my business.”

Beneath their feet, Jamie could feel a slight rumble as the engines hit maximum burn. There was a momentary feeling of weightlessness, and then the familiar pull behind her navel when they finally hit hyperdrive. Some ships — sleeker, more capable ships than this — liked to make an experience out of going into hyperspace. Like pushing in the throttle on a first rate speeder. This experience however could only be described as lumbering. Like an overworked beast of burden taking that first reluctant step towards its destination.

Letting out a long tired exhale, Jamie said, “Right. Nothing left to do, then.”

And without further ado, from her bag she pulled out a set of pajamas — the only set of other clothes she had brought with her, to be perfectly honest, apart from a heavy thermal jacket in case they got stranded on an ice-ridden hell hole like Hoth or some shit — and began to change.

Unlike the previous nights, Dani did not avert her gaze or get flustered. Instead, her eyes traced the tattoo on Jamie’s shoulder, a series of vines and flowers curling down the bicep of her right arm and partway up her neck. A large enough piece to be eye-catching, while also easily concealed by clothing. Not that the Jedi Order cared about tattoos. Just that some planets had different rules than others, and when you hopped from place to place as often as Jamie did, then you hedged your bets.

“Does it mean anything?” Dani asked, nodding towards the tattoo.

Pulling a soft shirt on, Jamie shrugged. “Means I was young and stupid. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Dani didn’t have a reply to that, though the expression on her face said that she didn’t buy Jamie’s story for an instant. She squeezed by Jamie to start pulling out her own set of sleeping clothes, and Jamie had to hop out of the way while tugging a pair of sweatpants up her thighs.

“Don’t suppose you have any you’d like to share with the class?” Jamie asked, giving Dani a quick once over.

Dani, who had been in the process of taking off her cloak, froze, then continued what she was doing once more. “No,” she said, facing the wall so that her back was turned to Jamie.

“Thought it was a fair question,” said Jamie. She stepped atop the first rung of the ladder built into the wall so that she could inspect the cot in all its glory. Thin sheets. Thin mattress. Thin pillows. Happy days.

“I appreciate tattoos,” Dani answered, her voice muffled momentarily by the shirt she pulled over her head. “But I’ve never wanted one for myself.”

“Fair enough.”

When Jamie had assured herself there were no unfortunate bugs or surprises in the bed, she hauled herself up into the cot. She had to lie flat to slip in, and the ceiling was close enough to her face that when she was on her back she could make out every scratch and detail in the panels.

“Well, this is shite,” she muttered. Turning her head to one side, Jamie asked, “Do you get claustrophobic? Only that I can take the end nearest the wall if you’d prefer.”

Dani went very still in the act of pulling on a thicker set of socks. Then she gave Jamie a guilty little nod.

“All right.” Jamie shuffled over some more until she was wedged up against the wall.

Padding across the small room, Dani dimmed the lights before she climbed up into the cot beside Jamie. It was so cramped with the two of them, that there was no way they couldn’t not touch, and there was no way for Jamie to plaster herself against the wall any more than she always was. Eventually Dani was lying flat on her back, sheets pulled up to her chest, and staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling, while Jamie tried her damndest to not move too much.

A futile effort, in the end. With a muttered curse, Jamie wriggled around so she could reach up and scratch at her own tattooed shoulder. Dani frowned over at her quizzically, and Jamie answered, “Got a scar. It itches like mad sometimes.”

Dani hummed a wordless note. When Jamie had finally stopped scratching, she asked, “Why are you helping me?”

Jamie adjusted her pillow and said, “I don’t like Czerka. And, well, I guess I’m stuck with you now.”

Through the dark, Dani’s expression was inscrutable. She rolled over to face Jamie, and the pillow obscured her partly so that the only eye that watched Jamie was the one that seemed to gleam golden in the deep shadows of her face. “You just left your whole life behind on a whim.”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments,” said Jamie. “Even Force sensitives are discouraged from it, generally. Especially at the Temple.”

Dani blinked at her. “I’m sorry if I was too forward, or -”

With a snort, Jamie shook her head. “Not at all what I meant. Just — I move around a lot. And you’ve seen my apartment. Did it look like I was planning to stay long?”

Rather than answer, Dani asked, “Do you not like the places you live in?”

“I like them fine. Telos IV is fine.”

“What about family?”

Jamie arched an eyebrow. “What about them?”

“Well -” Dani faltered over this for a moment. “I miss my mother. She’s awful and she drives me crazy, but I still miss her.”

She said it like it was an example, an invitation for Jamie to give her own in return.

“Don’t have one,” Jamie said.

“What? Nobody?”

“Nope.”

“But what about -? I mean -” Dani blew out a frustrated breath before continuing. “Surely there are people who care about you. You’re a good person.”

“You’ve known me three days,” Jamie pointed out. “Less. Two and a half.”

“Jamie,” she said in an admonishing tone.

With a sigh, Jamie rolled onto her back. She could hear their neighbours through the thin walls. Someone was playing thumping music and talking loudly amongst themselves in a language she did not understand, until they blended into a drone of white noise.

“Attachments are forbidden for Jedi,” Jamie repeated, “but I’ve never been Jedi material. When I was still in training at the Temple, there were people in my group that I cared about. Sure. Formed an attachment with a youngling named Mikey. We weren’t related by blood but we might as well’ve been. I looked after him, and for a while things were good. But he was strong. Stronger than I could ever dream of being. And for people like him, people strong in the Force -” Jamie made a helpless gesture towards the ceiling. “They separated him from the rest when he was still so young. He’s a Jedi Knight now. We don’t talk anymore. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Dani said softly.

Jamie’s stomach swooped, and she grit her teeth against it. “I hope it is. It’s for the best.”

“And what about these other friends? The ones we’re going to visit on Tython?”

“Just friends,” said Jamie. “Good friends, but friends. They’re actual Jedi, and they take that shit seriously. Or, well -” she huffed out a laugh. “One of them does. Sometimes I wonder if Owen takes anything seriously. Most people, though? No. No attachments. Most people aren’t worth the effort.”

Dani's gaze was a dart of gold through the enclosed space, the two of them cramped together, their knees brushing despite their best efforts. Then, she said, "I'm glad."

Frowning, Jamie turned her head to look at her. "About what?"

"That this isn't an effort."

Jamie opened her mouth to retort but no sound came out. It hadn't been said with venom or sarcasm. It had been resigned. Matter of fact, even.

And before Jamie could gather her wits about her enough to formulate a response, Dani rolled over and nearly took the rest of the blankets with her. Scowling, stomach churning unpleasantly, Jamie rolled over as well and tried to get some sleep.

Three days passed without anything noteworthy occurring, which — given the way Jamie’s week had been going so far — was a miracle in and of itself. And after three days of scouring the various lower and mid decks, Jamie could with great confidence say that no Czerka had followed them aboard this particular vessel.

Now, if only those weird fucking nightmares would go away. That would be grand.

Jamie was at the canteen bar on the mid decks. She was allowing herself to indulge in the vice of a foamy alcoholic beverage which resembled beer but which definitely wasn't beer. The location she would've preferred to drink at — a corner table with an excellent view of the whole room, and good access to one of the side exits — was already occupied by a group of surly looking humans, which meant that Jamie was forced to drink at the bar itself. She nursed her not-beer and tried not to think about how she still had six more days of sleeping beside a very attractive woman who was alternatively clingy or kick-y in her sleep.

Right when she was constructing ways of padding Dani's legs — more socks would do the trick, surely; and the woman was always bloody cold; she wouldn't complain — Jamie felt a frisson run down her spine. She straightened from her stoop with a frown, and looked around the room for any indication of new threats or danger.

Which was when someone stepped up to the bar beside her. He waved down the droid bartender and ordered himself a drink. Non-alcoholic. She looked at him, and went tense.

When it had seemed that she could finally allow herself to relax, to enjoy this leisurely cruise through hyperspace — as much as anyone could enjoy passage in their shit quarters — Jamie just had to go run into a Jedi.

An actual Jedi this time. Brown robes. Lightsabre. The whole lot. In fact, the last thing she noticed about him was his lightsabre. It was everything else that gave him away. The way he held himself. His clothes. The way he even breathed.

Immediately, Jamie buried her nose back into her glass and prayed that he wouldn't look her way.

He did. Of fucking course he did.

His sharp eyes promptly found the Service Corps dog tags hanging from her neck. Jamie was still mentally kicking herself for wearing them today, when he slanted his head sideways to read her Corps Assignment on the metal tags.

"And how is Telos?" he asked without preamble.

Jamie shrugged and stifled the urge to walk very quickly away. "Scarred," she said, "but alive."

He hummed. The droid brought him his beverage, and he murmured his thanks before turning his attention back to her. "And you're heading to Coruscant," he remarked thoughtfully. "Are you being Reassigned?"

Jamie shook her head. She bought herself some time by taking another sip of her not-beer. "Nah. Been three years since I've seen some friends on Tython. Thought I ought to say hello. They'll be sick of my pre-recorded postcards by now."

His answering smile was small, a thing barely there. Then there was a flicker of his brow. "You know," he said slowly, "I think I recognize you."

Well, that sure wasn't ominous. Not in the slightest.

"Oh?" said Jamie.

"Yes. You used to be ExplorCorps, didn't you?" He leaned closer, elbows on the bar, considering her. "My old Master was a Seeker. He showed me the proceedings of a smuggling bust he took part in about four years ago on an undisclosed planet near Nar Shaddaa. You gave the testimony that sent that Hutt crime lord to prison."

Jamie bought herself a second by buying her nose in her glass and taking a deep drink. So much for identity suppression. "Ah - yeah. That was me. Small galaxy, innit?"

He held out his gloved hand. “Pasha,” he said.

Switching her not-beer to her other hand, Jamie took his hand and shook it. “Jamie. And what brings you here?"

Setting his hand down, Pasha tapped his fingers against the bar top. Then he surveyed the rest of the room, as though checking for eavesdroppers. "I trust I can rely on your discretion?" he said in a tone that was too casual.

"Yeah. 'Course."

The droid bartender trundled by on its treads, and Pasha waited until it was gone. “I am investigating a murder."

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over Jamie’s head. "Someone in the Order?"

His expression was grave, and he nodded. "A young Consular by the name of Edmund. His body was found on a transport cruiser passing through Vurdon Ka. We believe it was the work of a Sith assassin."

Well, that was new.

"What? That close to the Core Worlds?" Jamie asked, and her voice was as incredulous as she could make it.

"Yes," he said and he was the definition of sombre. "You understand why this is so important. If the Sith have managed to infiltrate so deeply into the Core, then the risk to the Republic is far greater than we had thought."

"Well, fuck," Jamie muttered. Though not for the reason he probably thought.

She really had to go and get herself involved in the biggest clusterfuck of the decade. No. Biggest clusterfuck of the century.

“We’re almost finished making our sweep of the ship,” Pasha sighed as he lifted his glass for a sip. “I’ll be glad to be done. It’s tiring work, and this assassin somehow manages to slip through our fingers every time we get close.”

Wait, wait, wait. Hold the holo.

Jamie jabbed her finger against the bartop. “You think the assassin is on this hunk of junk?”

He nodded, lowering his glass. “We’ve done a thorough check through the upper and mid decks the last few days. Just making our way to the lower decks now.”

“I’m down there, and I haven’t seen anything,” Jamie said, hoping she didn’t sweat straight through her shirt. “Now, I’m no Knight, but I think I would know a Sith assassin if I saw one.”

“Have you ever met a Sith before?”

Jamie paused. She’d had plenty of dealings with Sith associates over the years — smugglers, crime cartels, weapons dealers, drug runners, you name it — but an actual Sith in the flesh? She shook her head.

“Pray you never do,” Pasha said darkly.

Jamie felt the hairs on the back of her neck and arms lift with a shiver. Then the sound of heavy boot steps approached the bar. Two masked Troopers in scuffed body armour stopped behind them, the Republic insignia emblazoned in blue on their left shoulders. They were walking talking weapon arsenals with more military tech between them than the rest of this sorry boat combined. One had a massive assault cannon strapped to her back and a bandolier of grenades clipped across her chest. The other was armed with a blaster rifle, a shielding pack, and an honest to fuck harpoon. Jamie sank down into her bar stool a little further.

“Sir,” one of them said, her voice muffled through the helm. “We are ready to descend into the lower decks whenever you are.”

Pasha gave Jamie a commiserating look and then drained his glass in one long pull. “Seems like the job is never done,” he said with a smile. “May the Force be with you.”

Jamie lifted her own glass in reply, watching them go without taking a sip. The two Troopers cleared the path just by walking in a straight line. People scrambled out of their way. The three of them passed through a door, rounded a corner, and they were gone.

Exhaling the breath she had been holding, Jamie slumped against the bar, letting her head rest against the cool and slightly sticky surface. She could hear the whir of mechanical treads as the droid bartender shifted position behind the bar. Jamie lifted her head.

“Oi,” she whistled to get the bartender droid’s attention.

It stopped cleaning a glass and gave her a low tired beep.

“Is there some sort of tech or maintenance shaft I can use to get to the lower decks fast?” Jamie asked.

Another beep, and a spindly mechanical arm popped out of the droid’s flank to poke a button. The garbage chute sprang open from the wall. Craning her neck, Jamie wrinkled her nose as she looked down into the chute, which ended in a trolley full of rubbish that was just big enough for her to fit inside if she tucked in her legs and arms.

With a deep sigh, Jamie bolted back the rest of her drink, then stood and started to round the bar towards the chute. “Fuck me.”

Jamie was still picking eggshells from her hair when she walked the corridors of the lower decks. At least the bar’s garbage had mainly consisted of fresh fruit rinds and nut shells, though she had a stimcaf stain on her pants that would take an age in the ablutions closet to get out later. She hurried along the hallway, pushing past clumps of other passengers who wandered about or chatted with one another.

For the first time since stepping foot on this ship, she wished they’d gotten a room on an even lower level deck. This was only two decks beneath the canteen, and battle-hardened Republic Troopers weren’t exactly known for sitting on their hands.

The door to their room was open, and Dani was nowhere to be found. Swearing under her breath, Jamie looked left and right down the hallway, hands on her hips. She checked the time at her wrist, and then continued down the corridor at a light jog. Every open room she passed, every tightly-confined communal space, Jamie poked her head in for a quick check, until finally she found her.

Dani was, of all places, twenty doors down with the Jawas. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground, nursing a steaming mug of something or another while listening intently to the surrounding seven Jawas chittering at her. Jamie stopped in the open doorway, slightly out of breath.

“That’s extortion!” Dani remarked, and one of the Jawas nodded emphatically. Then she said, “I’m very impressed.”

This earned Dani a series of gratified chirps from all of the Jawas, one of which eagerly topped up Dani’s mug with more of whatever beverage they were all drinking. She thanked him, and several of the others began demanding Dani’s attention with small sharp hand gestures and fast-paced prattling.

One of the Jawas noticed Jamie's presence and started making a high-pitched growl, like a territorial womp rat. The noise alerted the others, including Dani, who glanced up.

"Can we talk?" Jamie asked. She stepped further inside the room with a furtive motion for Dani to approach her.

Looking puzzled, Dani handed the mug to the Jawa sitting closest to her, then rose to her feet and crossed the room. “Is there something wrong? Why do you smell like orange juice?”

“Long story.” Jamie smacked the button which shut the door and opaqued the tiny porthole that peered into the Jawas’ quarters. Lowering her voice so that the Jawas couldn’t easily hear her, she whispered, "There’s a Jedi on board and two Republic Troopers. They’re looking for you and they think you're a Sith assassin."

Dani stared at her. "But -" she spluttered, "I'm not."

"I know that. But they don’t."

Dani glanced towards the door, then at the Jawas. She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “What do we do?”

“We hide and hope that once they’ve cleared this deck, they don’t come back,” said Jamie. “I don’t know how much time we have. They were making their way down here right as I left.”

"Spike was telling me -"

"Who?"

Dani pointed to the Jawa she’d handed her mug to. "Spike."

"You learned their names?"

"They're cute!" Dani insisted.

Right as she said it, one of the Jawas snatched up what appeared to be a tiny live rodent from a container, and swallowed it whole. The rodent vanished into the impenetrable darkness of the Jawa's hood, until even its wriggling tail was slurped up as well.

"Yeah, they're fuckin' adorable," Jamie said dryly.

“Spike was telling me,” Dani repeated more firmly this time, “that there are ventilation ducts that they use to pressurise the cabins during take off and landing.”

“And what happens if they decide to de-pressurise the cabins while we’re in there?”

“We’re in hyperspace. What are the chances we’re going to be boarding anything?”

“The way my luck is going,” said Jamie, “I’m willing to say the chances are pretty bloody high.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Dani asked, and there was an edge to her voice that from anyone else would have sounded angry, but which Jamie could already tell was just fear bleeding through.

“I do, actually.” Jamie jerked her thumb towards the door behind her. “We ride the rubbish chute to the upper decks and lie low until they finish their sweep down here. They’re not going to retrace old ground, and once they’ve cleared the entire ship, we’re gravy.”

“The garbage?” Dani furrowed her brow, giving Jamie a once-over. “Oh, I see. That explains it.”

In the background, a few of the Jawas had huddled around a small handheld screen and started chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Jamie and Dani ignored them until Spike scurried over and tugged at the trailing ends of Dani’s cloak. Both of them turned to listen, and Jamie felt her blood pressure tick up in real time.

“What?” Dani asked, face going pale.

“They can’t have made it to this deck already,” said Jamie to Spike. “You must be seeing things.”

In answer, Spike motioned towards the cluster of Jawas, one of whom turned the little screen around to show the holo it displayed. They had somehow hooked into the security feed and on the screen, clear as day, was Pasha and the two Troopers, striding down the corridor towards them.

Without peeling her wide eyes from the screen, Dani asked in a trembling voice, “Where did you say the garbage chute was located?”

“They’ve already passed it,” Jamie muttered.

Yammering in agitation, Spike pointed towards the ceiling, where a vent was located just above the sleeping cot. Jamie groaned.

“Oh, all right,” she relented. “C’mon.”

Picking their way across the Jawas’ quarters was like navigating a minefield. There was junk sprawled all over the place in piles. It was a mystery how they even managed to get it all in here. When Jamie climbed the ladder beside the cot, there were two sets of glowing yellow eyes watching her from the dark corner of the bed.

“‘Scuse us,” Jamie mumbled and pulled out her mining laser to cut the vent free just enough so that it swung open on two rusted hinges.

If Jamie wasn’t in the habit of hauling herself up trees all day, she would’ve had a hard go at clambering into the crawlspace. As it was, she grunted and pulled herself up. With a bit of wriggling — her hips got stuck in the small vent opening — she managed to get inside. She held a hand down for Dani just as there was a knock on the door.

“Let’s go,” Jamie muttered more to herself than anyone else, as she heaved Dani up and into the ventilation shaft with her. Dani scrambled in and Jamie barely had enough time to seal the vent shut before the door opened with a hiss.

Jamie was squashed between metal on three sides and Dani on the other. The only light in this space shone through the slats in the grating. Every breath was loud, as loud as Jamie’s heartbeat. She couldn’t have moved much if she tried. At her feet she could feel the shaft turn a corner, and any attempt to crawl along after it would end in one or both of them getting well and truly stuck.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Jamie heard Pasha’s cultured voice.

"Official Republic business," said one of the Troopers, his voice sounding muzzy through the speakers of his helmet. "Your cooperation is appreciated and expected. Any opposition will be met with force."

The Jawas jabbered and quibbled, but the sound of heavy boots stepping into the room regardless of their protestations was unmistakable. One of the Troopers, the one with the harpoon strapped to his back, stepped into view right below the vent. Jamie watched him crouch down and open up the storage lockers beneath the cot for inspection.

Dani’s eyes were squeezed shut. Jamie could feel the way she was trembling all over. Reaching up, Jamie took her hand, but Dani’s only reaction was to clutch it in a white-knuckled death grip. Jamie winced, the bones of her hand creaking, but she did not pull away.

“What’s this?”

The Trooper below had dragged something out from the locker, while his partner searched the ablutions closet. The Trooper nudged a large crate with the barrel of his blaster rifle, then turned to a nearby Jawa. “Open it,” he ordered.

The Jawa needed the help of two friends to heave the lid of the metal crate back. The Trooper had his blaster rifle tucked up against his shoulder, ready to fire, only to lower it once more, when the crate’s contents were revealed to be piles of more useless junk. Tangled skeins of wire. Dismembered droid parts. The works.

“Have you checked the cot?” his partner asked.

“Nothing but a litter at roost,” the Trooper replied.

Pasha spoke up from the doorway. “What about the vent? It looks like it’s been tampered with.”

Shit.

Dani’s breathing started growing fast and shallow. She was a line of tense muscle pressed up against Jamie’s front, her jaw clenched so tight Jamie was amazed she hadn’t cracked a tooth. There was a groan of metal around them and whole sections of the walls started to flex and bend in an alarming manner, as though something were attempting to crumple the entire shaft in one massive fist. Meanwhile, Dani’s shaking fingers dug painfully into the skin of Jamie’s hand.

Double shit.

“Shhh,” Jamie whispered. “Shh.”

Dani’s brow was furrowed and her breathing had shot straight past panting and into hyperventilating. The pipes beyond the crawlspace hissed and whined.

Below them, the Jawas were crowding around the two Troopers, but Jamie paid them no attention. With her free hand, she cupped Dani’s cheek and said softly, “Look at me. Dani. Hey.”

Dani opened her eyes, expression raw and panicked. Jamie could feel every sweeping exhalation as Dani struggled for air.

“With me,” Jamie murmured, and she breathed in and out with slow exaggeration. In through her nose. Out through her mouth.

Slowly Dani matched it, her muscles relaxing in the smallest of increments while Jamie coaxed her along, until they were breathing in synch, until Dani’s forehead rested gently against her own, noses brushing.

“All right, all right,” Harpoon Trooper growled below them. “We’re going. You’ve made your point.”

The Jawas were still talking over one another all at once and waving their tiny robed arms while the Troopers stomped out of the room. It was a small thing, the relief that burst like little fireworks in Jamie’s chest. She smiled, then breathed in sharply when that relief continued to branch out into something more, something alive, electric, and beyond herself. She gave Dani’s fingers another squeeze and shook her head quickly.

The Force retreated like a skittish hand reaching forth in the dark, but it was too late.

The footsteps below them had gone quiet.

"Is something wrong, sir?" one of the Troopers asked.

"I thought I felt something,” said Pasha slowly. “We went too quickly through the deck above this one. I want to go back.”

“But -”

“There is something above us, Commander,” Pasha insisted, and his voice was stern. “Ignore this floor, and let us go with haste.”

When they had finally gone, Jamie allowed her body to slump with a beleaguered sigh. Then she began to laugh softly. One of her hands was still cupping Dani’s jaw, and she brushed her thumb over the round bluff of Dani’s cheek, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Well done, love,” Jamie said with a smile.

Dani’s gaze was surprisingly steady for someone who had just been in the throes of a panic attack. She swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” she breathed.

It was an extraordinarily bad idea to glance down at Dani’s mouth. Jamie hadn’t even realised she’d done it until Dani blinked at her, tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. A nervous, automatic gesture, but one which Jamie could not ignore.

“I think we can leave now,” Dani said.

“Right.” Jamie cleared her throat and let go of Dani quickly. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

While she worked to open the vent again, Jamie had to sternly remind herself that Dani was a wanted murderer, and that the warmth pooling in her gut was a very very bad idea. Dani was silent as Jamie urged her to go first. One after the other, they squeezed themselves out of the vent and dropped down onto the floor below.

When Dani did it, the Jawas caught her and cooed over her, patting off the dust from her clothes. When Jamie did it, the Jawas let her fall in a bruised and graceless heap onto the floor.

“Thanks, mate,” Jamie grunted at Spike.

Spike narrowed his yellow eyes, then offered Jamie a mug of that steaming stuff they’d been drinking before. Sitting up and brushing herself off, Jamie took it. The drink tasted like battery acid warmed over, but it filled her with such a mild and pleasant feeling that she drained the cup.

“They’re not going to stop looking, are they?”

Jamie ran a hand through her hair. “No,” she said. “Don’t reckon they will. He sensed that, so he knows now there’s something on board. He’ll be back.”

Dani twisted her fingers together. When a Jawa offered her a cup, she demurred with a murmur. “So, now what?”

Tipping her head back towards the ceiling, Jamie closed her eyes. She mulled over their options, then shook her head with a wry grin. “God. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.” She waved the mug at Spike. “Don’t suppose you lot have a long-range transceiver I could borrow? Preferably untraceable, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

Rather than hop immediately into action, Spike looked at Dani for confirmation. Dani nodded and said, “Please.”

With a series of noises that could only be described as high-pitched grumbling, the Jawa rummaged around in the still open crate that the Troopers had inspected earlier. He unearthed a dented and ancient subspace transceiver, dusted it off, and handed it over to Jamie.

“The hell is the range on this thing?” Jamie muttered to herself as she turned it on.

The transceiver blinked to life with a flicker of white noise. Hoping beyond hope that the frequency was still the same as she remembered, Jamie keyed it in and hit the transmit button.

For two of the longest minutes of her life, the only answer was a blur of static. Then a familiar voice crackled to life.

“Well, well. Jamie Taylor. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Jamie’s smile was more of a grimace. “Hello, Rebecca. Remember how you owe me a favour?”

#no great reveleation #star wars #thobm #the haunting of bly manor #roman writes #star wars au

11 notes · View notes

dinosaurs-last-day · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!! It’s the one and only Remile Anon popping in again! Life’s kinda hitting a rough patch again right now, but i’ll most likely be fine. Anyways, I wanted to ask if you’d mind writing some fluffy Remile today. Hope you’re having a good day! <3

Hey Nonnie! Of course I’ll write some fluffy Remile for you.

How about a short high school au?

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

Remy Sanders sat in art class, already having finished the assigned sketch project and sitting in silence. He was trying not to stare, but it’s hard when the guy sitting right in front of him was so damn attractive. Emile Pacani, the boy in front of him, was basically Remy’s dream boy. Emile was sweet and smart and really kind. And Remy was gay, really gay. He would have asked Emile out by now if he wasn’t so damn awkward around cute boys, and if he actually knew if Emile liked guys.

Emile didn’t even notice that Remy was staring, he was busy with his art project. Art wasn’t Emile’s strong suit, despite what everyone thought. Emile, with his love for cartoons and storytelling, could barely hold a pencil. Remy watched as Emile furiously erased what he had drawn. He decided that today would be the day he actually had a conversation with Emile, even if it was just to give him some drawing tips.

“If you draw the lines lighter, you won’t have to erase so hard,” Remy said, slipping into the empty seat next to Emile. Emile looked over at Remy before going back to his art.

“You’re probably right. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“Well, you’re not doing a terrible job, you just need to learn some tricks to make it better,” Remy said, grabbing his pencil and a sheet of paper. “Lemme show you.” He demonstrated a few things, different ways to hold the pencil and how to draw gently and erase so that the paper didn’t tear. Emile watched, eyes wide, soaking in every detail.

“You’re really good,” Emile said. Remy felt his face turn hot, his mouth suddenly unable to form coherent words. He reminded himself that it was just a compliment, that he needed to get over his crush for a minute.

“Um, thanks,” Remy finally said. Emile turned around and looked that Remy’s completed sketch. Remy suddenly became very aware of all the little mistakes he made on the drawing, but Emile didn’t seem to notice a single one of them.

“I think you’re the best artist in the class! I wish I could draw like that.”

“Well, practice makes perfect and all that.” The words fell awkwardly off Remy’s lips. His face was still a bright shade of red and he wished that he could hide in his leather jacket.

“You’re right, I need more practice!” Emile laughed. “I don’t want to make you feel obligated, so totally tell me if I crossed a line, but do you think you could teach me some more? Like, after school?”

Hanging out with Emile after school was Remy’s dream, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“I’m sorry, that was a dumb thing to ask,” Emile apologized. Remy practically jumped out of his seat at the fear of losing his chance to spend more time with Emile.

“No! I mean, of course I would like to teach you some stuff. Maybe you could come over to my place and I let you use some of my art supplies or something?” Emile’s face brightened as he agreed.

“Oh, I don’t think I caught your name,” Emile said as the bell rang, signaling the end of class.

“Um, it’s Remy.”

“Well, thank you then Remy!”

Remy waited impatiently for Emile to arrive. He had given Emile his phone number and address right after art class and was anxiously pacing his families shed, which had been redesigned to serve as an art studio for Remy.

Finally, he saw the other boy walking up the driveway and he practically ran over to greet him.

“Hey! Thanks for doing this, it means a lot,” Emile said, following Remy to the shed.

“It’s no problem. I can’t promise that I’ll make a good teacher, but I can try.” Remy opened the shed door and motioned for Emile to walk inside. When Emile got in, his jaw dropped a couple of inches as he took in the sight.

Remy had been allowed to paint the walls, and he had chosen to use chalk paint so that he could constantly doodle on them. There was one wall not painted with the chalk paint, and on it hung a bunch of Remy’s favorite art projects, the ones he was most proud of. Over the sketching desk hung a pride flag, and there were shelves full of paint and other art supplies. Emile looked around for a long minute, his eyes finally resting on the pride flag.

“You’re gay?” Emile asked. Remy’s brain suddenly started to panic. What if Emile was homophobic? Leave it to Remy to fall in love with that guy. He mumbled a yeah and was surprised to see Emile practically jump in excitement.

“I’m gay too! What are the odds? This is so cool!” Remy let out a silent sigh of relief, allowing himself to relax.

“So, what did you want me to teach you?” Remy asked. Emile thought for a moment.

“Maybe we can work on a simple painting project? I think that might be easy.”

Remy laughed. “Painting isn’t as easy as people lead you to believe but sure! That sounds like fun!” He got out two easels and his favorite acrylics, setting everything up for Emile and answering any of Emile’s questions as he went along.

Painting with Emile Pacani was probably the most fun Remy had ever had in a long time. The two laughed and joked, swapping different colors every once and a while. Remy had suggested that they started with something easy and Emile said that painting a butterfly sounded easy, so there they were, two butterflies on canvas. Finally, after they both had decided that they were finished, they stepped back to admire their work.

“Your butterfly is actually really good,” Remy noted. “You have an amazing eye for colors, it looks beautiful.”

“My butterfly looks like a sad little moth compared to yours,” Emile said, earning a laugh from Remy.

“Hey, don’t hate on moths. Mothman is my one true love,” Remy joked. As Remy cleaned up some of the paints, out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Emile go over to the desk and stare up at the pride flag.

“You okay?” Remy asked, putting the easels back in their place in the corner of the shed.

“I’m fine, just thinking.” Emile turned to face Remy. Remy noticed that a bit of paint had managed to find a home on Emile’s face.

“You have some paint on your cheek,” Remy said, fighting the urge to reach up and wipe it away. Emile rubbed his cheek. “No, the other cheek.”

“Could you wipe it off for me? I don’t want to miss it,” Emile said. Remy nodded and ran a towel over the paint. He was acutely aware of how close he was standing to Emile. He ran the towel over the cheek a second time, just in case he had missed some paint the first time, totally not because he didn’t want to move.

Even though he was less than a foot away from Emile, he could barely make out what Emile was saying. Emile was barely speaking, just breathing out the words. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Neither one of them remember who initiated the kiss, just that they kissed, and it felt like magic. Remy held Emile’s face, he could feel Emile snake his arm around Remy’s waist and pull him closer. They stood there, kissing desperately, for what felt like the longest minute ever. When they broke away, Remy tried to pout from the lack of lips against his, but he couldn’t because he was too busy smiling like an idiot.

“Remy, you’re very attractive,” Emile whispered, more audible this time but now his voice sounded slightly hoarse, probably from all the kissing.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a while now,” Remy admitted.

Emile’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he pulled Remy close once again and they kissed, another long and breathless kiss. Remy felt like he had forgotten how to think, and that was fine.

Finally, Emile let go of Remy, stepping back. Remy’s lips were slightly swollen, his hair messed up. Emile’s glasses hung crooked on his face.

“I have to get going, I promised my mother I’d be home in time for dinner. Maybe tomorrow I can come back and you can teach me something new?” Emile asked, grabbing his stuff. Remy smiled.

“I’d love that.”

#i hope this works!#remile anon #anon #anonymous #thanks for the ask #remile #remy sanders #ts remy #remy sleep #ts emile #Emile Pacani #remy x emile #emile x remy #my writing #remy writes #who let me become a writer?#ask

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lutrain2020 · 4 years ago

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Meet the Creator!

Introducing: Roane or Mangoisee!

Commission: I've never done commissions before, but I am considering opening them in the future!

Social Media: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mangoisee/

What's your artistic process like?

I tend to sketch, and just clean it up from there rather than using a separate layer for the lineart. I like doing interesting poses, and digital art makes it super easy for me to move certain parts of the drawing around, much more so than traditional. I really like using earthy and warm tones for the colouring too!

Tell us a little bit about yourself!

I like to play the ukulele and violin in addition to drawing, as well as play sports like volleyball! I love space and quantum physics, so I'm hoping to do some sort of research into that as a career! Some may call me a nerd, but I like to think of myself as having a diverse skillset. :)

What kind of mediums do you like to use?

I mostly doodle traditionally, and do finished pieces digitally. I really want to get into sculpting and embroidery as well!

What got you into art? what inspires you to keep creating art?

I think it was Gravity Falls that really got me into art, and once I started doodling a random classmate in middle school (who tended to be very critical) said that I was really good! That was sort of the spark that initiated me being open to sharing my work. Now, it's mostly fandom that keeps me drawing, but I am hoping to work on a webcomic soon!

What's your favorite/least favorite subjects to use in your art?

I enjoy drawing people and scenes with characters I like in them. Backgrounds are often the bane of my existence, though. Animals are pretty hard for me, too, but I'm working on getting better. I really like drawing people with fluffy hair, too, to the point where I'm incapable of actually drawing people with non-fluffy hair!

What's the worst thing you had to draw?

I had to draw a rabbit a while back for a birthday gift, and the anatomy absolutely. would. not. work. with. me.

Is there something that you struggled with that made you grow as an artist?

Definitely it was trying to branch out into drawing dudes! I went through a phase where I absolutely would only draw girls, and any guy I tried to draw just looked like a girl with short hair. Zelda (and LU in particular) definitely helped, because there are a bunch of dudes who I really really wanted to draw, and it really forced me to broaden my skillset!

If you have any fun stories about the pieces you made, please do share!

Most of my art comes out of me getting hit by inspiration and staring at my computer for hours while I complete it! Generally, if I split the work between two days, it ain't getting finished.

#Meet The Creator #lutrain2020 #linkeduniverse #lu train2020

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zahra-kha · 4 years ago

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Dear Diary 32

The weekend was a blast! Well, up until I nearly bled out in the middle of the forest.

I was late to Hanami so I missed out on the fortune-telling which was sad about, but I did manage to get a good luck charm. I’m not sure how well it’s working, but I didn’t die, so I guess it’s doing something. I was really hoping to get my fortune told, I enjoy that sort of thing, but I guess I’ll have to wait for another festival.

I ran into Tamala, Nivaar, Vivien, and Arashi while I was there, oh! Before that though, a strange person bumped into me and handed me off a letter from Lord Thiji Higuri from the Regalia sending his regards. I responded to her giving a formal greeting from house Kouris and infomed her that I’d try to visit the Regalia to give proper respect and greetings to the Mythrite Sultan at some point. It’s not exactly often or common for someone of his standing to reach out to someone of my position, so I should at least give him due respect.

Some of the folks from Ebonheart were there and I chatted with them for a bit before I gave them space to enjoy the festival. I didn’t want to crowd them.

So there was a ritual and a blessing sort of thing. I didn’t really understand it, but it involved lining up to drink sake. I wasn’t sure if that was a religious thing or not, but I didn’t feel very comfortable jumping into something like that when I have my own beliefs and I pray to my own gods. That’s not to say accepting blessings from another belief set is bad, it’s just that I’d like an understanding of what I’m accepting before I accept it. I’m probably overthinking it, I doubt the priests would have offered a blessing to all if it was harmful or insulting. I’m not sure why I felt so apprehensive about it.

After everyone went up to accept the blessing, it was time for the performances. Everyone was so amazing! There was such a variety of performers celebrating the beauty of spring and from different cultures too!

I was performing as well. I did two songs, one on the blossoming of a new love after heartbreak (Yes, it was a personal song, and I don’t often sing about my feelings, but I also feel my songs won’t reach anyone if I don’t try to reach out and touch their hearts with my own). The other was about the powerful bonds of an unshakable love, and I think that moved some people. I really tried my hardest with that song.

The Sword Princess Zenos one was inspiring, I wanted to go home and write some friend fiction featuring Trystan as the warrior of light and Vin as Sword Princess Zenos. I wonder how badly I can bastardize this? I won’t be satisfied until I’ve upset some people (in a good/bad/funny way!)

After the performances, someone named DJ CARVI came out. He had this amazing car thing and started playing this awesome music while playing on the guitar! We danced and danced until we nearly passed out! He looks so cool, and I love his personality! The music was unique and flowed well and just....

[There’s a series of hearts and little doodles of CARVI’s helmet along with little notes saying ‘I ♥ DJ CARVI’ written on the margins. Zahra is clearly a fan]

I tried to see if Tamala could get me an autograph but she already had one so I politely asked if he had signed autographs after his show. He did us one better and give us illegal copies of his album and signed them! I’m not supposed to listen to it but that’s okay! I’ll just try and check out another showing of his and see if I can find places where there’s orchestrion scrolls of his work. And maybe some posters. Or other merchandise.

He was really cool.

So anyway, the next day was Lucky Sparrow’s 4th anniversary! We had a wonderful turnout, so many showed up in green and gold. That was so nice to see, I loved the support, it just goes to show how much people love Lucky Sparrow and how much they’ve given to everyone. I’m proud and honored to be a part of them.

The performances were ama-zing! We practiced and practiced and everything turned out well! Suki and I got to do our solo acts, and I even saw some familiar faces in the crowds! I think I heard Kaito, Vel, Koh’a, and S’aeil out there! I think one of them was celebrating their own anniversary! Scorpius showed up too and wished me luck, that was kind of him.

We all got a bit sappy after, which made me happy. I love the environment with the troupe, it helps me feel a little less alone. It’s warm and comforting, which I think I needed after everything that’s been going on.

Speaking of...

After the show I went back to the encampment and found it empty. I thought it was going to be my best chance of investigating everyone so I tried to hurry.

I went through Sahrin’s things first. I admit I was still upset Cecilia even insinuated that Sahrin may have tried to kick her out. Even if we cleared the air on it, I wanted to prove his innocence. I didn’t find...much? A locked jewelry box and a bunch of really raunchy letters to Fitaan. Gross.

Fitaan’s tent was...strange. It was like going into a room felt like someone was trying too hard to show it’d been lived in. Things that looked normal upon first glance, but then didn’t make sense as you really thought about it. A bedroll but no pillow, sheets or blankets to be found. Cooking utensils but no traces that food had ever been in the room. Not even dried herbs or meat. Thrown away parchment in a trash bin, but no writing utensils to shown he’d been writing anything. Sure, he could have taken some of the items with him to track down Armand but...the room feels too neat, clean, and off for that. It’s like it has the appearance of a normal room but there’s enough bits and pieces once you look around to know otherwise.

Esila’s tent was normal. Smelled of metal and polish but that’s likely from all the blades she has laying about. She has a hobby of collecting axes and swords. I tried to be careful, but she really didn’t have anything that I could find.

Armand’s room had been cleaned out by Sahrin already, he took everything of relevance with him. I didn’t find much of anything outside of letters he’d saved from old lovers and a letter from Sahrin congratulating him on job well done on his first solo performance at a village he was at in Thavnair.

It was when I went to Sai’s room that everything went downhill. I’ve been to her tent countless times. She’s been training me with how to use daggers, she’s taught me how to be a better songwriter. Sai is...the calmest of the group. The quietest. But when she speaks she always has kind or profound things to say.

I’ll be honest, there was a part of me that didn’t believe Cecilia, either. She’d just come to the troupe and suddenly she disappears and then reappears and starts saying Sahrin kicked her out, then that Armand was behind it, and suddenly I’m just supposed to believe the people I’ve cared for since childhood are trying to hurt me?

I went to the encampment to...

I wanted to prove everyone wrong. Myself wrong. I didn’t want to believe my family would betray me. Sahrin. The troupe. And I was angry with myself for doubting them. Angry for not doubting them more. I was angry at my friends for doubting my family, and I was angry at myself for being unreasonable about it. I just wanted the truth. Mostly, I was angry that this was happening at all.

So when I heard something click after finding a letter in Sai’s drawer, I think my mind went completely blank. I stopped thinking, I didn’t move, everything just went white.

I don’t remember too much of what happened, only that instinct told me I had to go. I had to leave, I couldn’t be found. I don’t know if that was out of fear or just a sense of survival, but it started raining heavily so I lost my bearings quickly. It’s fuzzy, but I don’t even think I realized the trap had been a knife until I finally found a spot to sit down because I felt really tired suddenly.

I needed a healer, and I could only think to call Gail. She came and I don’t remember much of our conversation after she arrived, but I think she brought me to her apartment somehow and I got shoved into her bath. I told her as much as I could as I tried to warm up, I don’t remember how long I was out in the rain, and I didn’t feel much pain, just exhausted.

Oh, but after she healed me and got some food in me, godsdamn did the pain come in full force! I think the blade had been poisoned, because after I got back to my apartment I felt feverish and weak from the after effects. I’m still recovering, the fever is gone and I was able to take a look at the letter.

Gail got a good look at it too, seems like it was a letter from Sahrin to Sai, a really old letter too. I guess from the days before the troupe was formed. I know Sahrin is very anti-Imperial, but I guess Sai is too, looking over the letter’s contents. I’m not sure what this all means, but I guess when Sahrin was thinking of making the troupe, he had some grand designs and made some promises to Sai about it. I wasn’t able to find out much else since I triggered the trap, but the letter was well taken care of even after all these years. It must have been important to Sai.

Sai, was it you? Did you put Armand up to killing me? Deceiving Cecilia? How much of everything going on is you? You were like a sister to me, I don’t understand. I don’t understand.

#ic #Zahra's diary #Zahra Kha #Zahra Kouris

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autumnsart22 · 4 years ago

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Chapter 14: Oikawa x reader

Hey! Sorry for the late update, I’ve had a hectic past few days. We’re getting super close to the end of this fanfic, I love you if you’ve stuck with it this long. I think next week’s chapter is going to be the final one so stay tuned :)

Oikawa POV:

During class on Monday, I could barely keep my eyes open. Our teacher seemed to lecture for hours, and every minute seemed to take a week. To occupy myself, I simply stared at Y/n.

It had started when she had first become our manager, when I was trying to get a reading on her and whether or not she would be a good fit for the team. In the end, I just found her a billion times more interesting than anything else.

With my head resting on my palm, I watched her scribble violently on the page in front of her, her head tilted and forehead scrunched up. It didn’t look like she was taking notes, which meant she was probably drawing. I knew that it was a hobby of hers--she always seemed to have lead stains on her finger tips from smudging--but she rarely let me look at any of her work. What I had seen had blown me away, but she always would get all red and flustered if I tried to ask to see more.

It seemed that she was having a particularly hard time with the sketch she was doing now, her hand clenched tightly around the pencil in frustration and an annoyed look on her face. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as she began cursing under her breath, erasing violently.

I sighed. How was she so pretty? And what was I going to do? Because being close to her all the time without confessing was looking more and more impossible with every day that went by.

✨✨✨✨

Y/n POV:

The bell rang and I let out a long breath, closing my notebook and packing away my pencils. I glared one more time at the stupid sketch of Iwaizumi and Oikawa, which just didn’t look right! It was something about Iwa’s nose that was off…Since I was in class, I didn’t want to risk using my phone for a reference picture, but I would fix it later.

As I got to my feet, Oikawa came over to stand by my desk, hitching his bag on his shoulder. He had taken off his white blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his red tie a little loose around his neck.

“God that was so horrendous…” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. I nodded, laughing as he made a face at the teacher. I noticed a few girls glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored them. He wasn’t with them right now; he was with me.

I swung my bag over my shoulder, scooping up my sketchbook and following Oikawa out of the classroom. Iwaizumi met us in the crowded hall, glowering at everyone who passed. When he saw us, he looked vaguely relieved, which instantly melted back into annoyance as we started the journey out of the packed space.

We were almost to the door when a first year sprinted around a corner, crashing directly into me. I grunted and dropped my sketchbook, papers scattering everywhere.

“Oh sorry! I’m late to class!” The first year said, not even trying to help me clean up as he took off once again down the hall.

“Hey!” Iwaizumi yelled, looking ready to chase down the students and make him apologize.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, patting his arm and leaning down to start scooping up my papers. Iwa and Oikawa moved to help me, and I felt my heart practically stop as I realized what they would see.

“Wait--!”

Too late. Both Iwa and Oikawa stared at the pictures scattered on the ground, Oikawa’s mouth slightly open and even Iwa’s eyes a bit wide.

They were all of Oikawa.

Ok, maybe not all of them. Some of them were sketches of the whole team, or of Iwaizumi. I had a bunch of all us three, and some just random doodles. But the majority were of Seijoh’s captain, different angles, different styles, color or no color, his hands, his eyes, his hair. Dear god, it was like looking at Oikawa through a many lensed mirror.

I felt my entire body flush, and I quickly began to snatch up the papers as fast as possible, not caring if they crumpled or tore.

“Woah, what are you doing? Be careful with them!” Oikawa said, carefully stacking the drawings and handing them to me in a neat stack. His cheeks were tinted pink, but he smiled widely. “Why are you so red, Chibi-chan? These are amazing!”

“Ugh,” I was so embarrassed I could barely speak. “You-it’s not-you’re just easy to draw!”

Oikawa grinned smugly. “Hear that Iwa-chan? Y/n likes drawing me! Makes sense--I am extremely attractive, after all.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked Oikawa on the back of the head. “Stupid pretty boy,” he grunted.

My laugh was a bit strained, but I managed to stuff all the papers away before getting to my feet. “Let’s get out of the middle of the hallway.”

As we walked outside, Oikawa turned to me. “Have you ever considered going to art school?”

I blinked in surprise. I had in fact considered applying to a few, but I knew my parents would never let me go. How did he know that?

“A bit but...my parents…”

Both Iwa and Oikawa knew how strict my parents were, and how much I was pressured by them. Oikawa looked frustrated, crossing his arms and stopping in the middle of the path, making Iwaizumi and I turn to look at him.

“What?” I asked.

“I think you should apply, if that’s what you want to do.” He pointed to the sketchbook I clutched close to my chest. “Those are so good, Y/n. You could really do something with your talent.”

I bit my lip. “But--”

Oikawa put his finger on my lips, stopping me from speaking. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But think about it, ok? It’s your life, not your parents’.”

Later that day, I sat down on my bed and began to research art schools in Japan.

✨✨✨✨

“Alright everyone, circle up!” Coach Nobuteru yelled, and the team dropped their volleyballs and headed over to the bench. I tapped my clipboard with my pen, where I had written out comments for each of the players. “Good job today everyone. We have a practice game coming up, so keep up the good work. I’ll let Y/n give you any comments she has about your form.”

I nodded, smiling. “Everyone has improved so much, I’m so proud of you. I just took a few notes to hopefully help you out.”

I went around and read my comments, which were pretty brief, before letting everyone start cleaning up.

I began picking up extra volleyballs while the boys changed, rolling up the net and packing up my stuff. My team began filtering out, waving to me as they left.

“Have a good day!”

“See you tomorrow!”

I grinned. “Great job again everyone!”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa emerged last, and Iwa told us he had to get home to see his mom. Apparently she had started a new treatment where she needed to be in the hospital far more, so he wanted to see her at home when he could.

I turned to Oikawa, shuffling my feet a little bit. “Um.”

He looked at me curiously. “Yeah?”

“Well I--I don’t know, I was thinking-- I kind of want to um...learn how to serve?”

Oikawa blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah, I just. I don’t know, I always give you guys criticism, but I don’t even know how to play. I know I won’t be very good but I just thought…” I trailed off.

When I glanced up at Oikawa, his eyes were bright and excited. “Oh my god, you’re so cute! I’ll totally teach you how to serve, I’m the best after all.”

I sighed, laughing a little. “Ok then. What do I have to do?”

Oikawa rolled the basket of volleyballs over to the end of the court, showing me how to hold the ball and position myself.

As I expected, I was absolutely horrendous. I hit the net over and over, or my tosses were too weak to even get close. I cursed violently, but Oikawa thought it was hilarious. He was a good teacher, and obviously an excellent server, but I couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.

“Don’t worry, it takes a lot of practice. It took me years to get this good.”

“Ok…” I pouted.

“Here,” Oikawa wrapped his arms around my waist, adjusting my arms and stance. I shivered, the feeling of his muscles flexing behind me making my heart race. “You throw it like this.”

He tossed the ball in the air and spiked it hard over the net. I leaned my head back to look at him and smiled. “I think I’ll leave the serving to you.”

His face was inches away and he gently touched my chin. “Whatever you say, Chibi-chan.”

We packed up the volleyballs and net, and I locked the door as we headed out. The sky had darkened, and I shivered a little as we headed towards the student parking lot.

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, glancing at Oikawa.

“Ugh, just homework mostly. I have an essay coming up that’s due soon.”

“God--”

“Oikawa-san!” A voice called from behind us. “How are you?”

We both turned, and I clenched my teeth as two pretty girls moved across the grass towards us. I noticed Oikawa grimace before his fake smile was pulled across his face like a mask.

“Hey! I’m doing good. How are you?”

One of the girls giggled. “Great. Are you busy tonight?”

I swallowed, turning away without looking at Oikawa. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa-san.”

I walked away towards the cars, not looking back. I could hear the girls still talking, but I tugged my beats from around my neck and placed them over my ears to block them out.

As I unlocked my car, I felt a hand on my arm spinning me around. Oikawa gazed down at me imploringly, tugging my headphones off my ears.

“Why’d you leave me like that?” He asked, looking betrayed.

“Huh? I thought you’d want to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so oblivious.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So you didn’t want to talk to them?”

“No, why would I when I have you?”

I went red, hiding a smile. “Ok then.”

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

#oikawa tooru #oikawa #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa fic #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic #oikawa fluff #fluff

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