#IF SOMEONE WERE TO CALL ME THAT SERIOUSLY I WOULD FILE A LAW SUIT

[aluyatoktokbang]

"CREEPYPASTA SANTA CRUZ"

ENG.

by @aluyatoktokbang19

~ ORIGIN: ~

† THE BEGINNING OF THE NUN HUNT. †

“I remember when my father was stabbed in the back, my mother stabbed him again and again while I was left in shock, unable to react. The shock was so overwhelming that I couldn’t move. It was a very traumatic scene for me. My father had died in front of my eyes, and that damn woman blamed me. She called the priest to talk about the current situation. He seemed to be her voice of reason, someone to consult when she needed help, to resolve an issue or ask for advice. That damn priest was the one who planted those thoughts in my mother’s mind about me, about the possibility of being a creature of hell, the devil, a dark being whose sole purpose was to ruin her life, among many other lies that seeped into the reasoning of that nun who unfortunately calls herself “my mother.” After analyzing the situation, she decided to take the most logical step, call the police, but not just any random agent to take charge of the matter and assist at the crime scene, but coincidentally, the priest's friend. My father already had a bad relationship with Commissioner Jonh, as he always showed disinterest in many of the reports he filed or didn’t supervise the police force, which greatly annoyed my father due to the lack of professionalism. But he couldn’t do much about it. The commissioner had replaced the former head of the police after a very serious case in another state, I think it was an attack or a shooting against the president or relatives related to the government, I don’t know the truth about that and I don’t care to dwell on it, but they needed his help. Also, the previous commissioner had been injured, and he was one of the best, with many years in the police force, and if I recall correctly, he was a former soldier, so he had more than enough experience, although he was already getting old. It was the worst mistake they could have made, as from then on, he was in charge of the entire force and was very incompetent, showing no interest whatsoever. My father, clearly not pleased with this, had many disputes with him. My father took his work very seriously, knowing that legality, laws, and the movement of justice were in his hands. But apparently, this man who called himself "Commissioner" had a lazier and more mundane mindset, a poor interest and, of course, a ravenous hunger for money, and bribes suited him perfectly. Through under-the-table dealings and manipulated wires, I was taken to the station, where they asked me a few vague questions about the situation. Despite explaining that it was my mother, and also revealing the abuse I had suffered from her, they didn’t take me seriously. They just thought I was delusional from the shock I experienced after "committing" what they claimed, when in reality I was just a witness to the death of my beloved father. The trial never took place, they didn’t want to cause a bigger media scandal than the one already happening due to the death of an important judge, so it was simply treated as an accident. Fortunately, I didn’t end up in jail. They diagnosed me with a myriad of mental illnesses to justify the supposed acts I committed, and I ended up in the custody of my mother."

"I spent two years in a convent, away from where I lived. My mother, along with her sisters, the proper way to call a nun, and the Mother Superior, equivalent to the head nun, made my life a hell in that place. Every day was filled with insults, beatings, whippings with wooden rulers, punishments for lack of faith, lack of respect, all justified by saying it was divine punishment sent by God for my sins. They would pour cold water on me in winter, burn me with silk candles, keep me up all night, and only let me eat leftovers. It was a hell to live there, where only love, kindness, and protection were supposed to exist. As time passed, my mind, my health, and especially my will to live began to deteriorate. It wasn’t a desire for death, but a deep desire for vengeance, hatred, a hatred so intense that it sank into your skin in the form of cross-cut scars, burns, bruises, scars, marks, insomnia, eating disorders, among thousands of physical and mental manifestations. I always denied the existence of God, no matter how much I was taught by my mother based on the Bible and Christian religion. I never understood that devotion and always remained skeptical of miracles, prayers, and praise. To me, it was just a placebo, a fictional character, a simple concept, a smoke screen that takes advantage of the blind faith of the world to obtain money effortlessly. Just saying “I am the Lamb of God,” wars exist, violence, killers like me, the bad ones, and I don’t see anyone descending from heaven in a white tunic to end world hunger, ask for mercy for the lives of others, or stop wars and form peace. And now that I have suffered behind the walls of the convent and churches, my skepticism turned into rage, hatred, and a repulsion that sickens me every time I hear anything related to them. Even telling you my story disgusts me, and mentioning anything related to religion smothers me, and my desire to destroy everything related to them grows stronger with each passing day."

"The day Karen Isabella de la Cruz died was the same day they were holding my father's funeral. I couldn’t attend, I wasn’t allowed. Only my mother had the honor of attending to falsely mourn the man she loved. It was immense pain for me. I was lost; they didn’t let me say goodbye to the man who cared for me, raised me, and had faith in me, who showed me the good things in life, manners, and never let me be driven by hatred, something that I didn’t live up to, and my father would be angry with me from the grave. I couldn’t properly say goodbye to him. On that day, my humanity died, or perhaps it died along with my father. I was only allowed to listen to the news on the radio while I washed the nuns' clothes, tears falling down my cheeks, hearing about the funeral and how people had left flowers, candles, and gifts in memory of my father. I would have wished to do the same, but I couldn’t, and besides, if the priest passed by, he would hit me for crying, mocking my pain, and reveling in having denied me the chance to attend. A part of me went with my father, I forgot the reason to be kind, pure, and gentle; it vanished, and all those years of teaching about respect and values were lost. My soul rotted, my heart, that innocent girl died, and now she was being buried alongside her beloved paternal figure, in the graveyard, under trumpets, flowers, weeping, and dedications, in a beautiful white marble tomb. Part of me is grateful and glad that people mourned his passing and showed respect, thanking him for being one of the few who truly delivered justice and respected the law as it should always be. But it seems so distant, dystopian, and fictional. But of course, I always felt unfortunate and torn inside for not being present, at least to say goodbye to him with dignity and tell him everything I felt, admiration, love, and immense respect, while my mind wanders through all the beautiful moments we lived and those we still had to live, thinking that he would be with me on my wedding day, the grandfather of my firstborn children; all of that was lost."

"After that, I was no longer the same, clearly. Now comes the interesting part, remembering the event that marked the before and after in finally ending this torment. I had an argument with my mother, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I rebelled against her, confronting her with everything she had caused, a miserable childhood, a lack of paternal love, and a hell in my life. Besides taking away the person who loved me the most, the tortures she made me go through along with the other nuns, and the priest watching as a spectator at a circus show, a confrontation that ended with me grabbing a bottle of wine, used for mass, and deciding to strike my mother. But of course, I was eternally too slow, and as a way of triumph, she approached me and poured the wine on part of my face, and without hesitation, she lit a match, allowing the right side of my face to start burning. They burned me alive. I couldn’t do anything because the nuns had neutralized me by tying me to a chair. I screamed for help, screamed my father's name, as if that would make him rise from the dead to save me. I even screamed for God to help me. Ah, but of course, He doesn’t exist; He’s just another invention of humanity to continue believing it’s superior to all other living beings and live deceived in a fairytale ending that will never come. At least they were fortunate enough to put out the fire, and I was taken to the hospital to treat my wounds. Of course, they denied any wrongdoing, claiming it was an accident I caused, even trying to say I was attempting suicide, of course, burning myself alive as if it weren’t one of the most painful deaths known to mankind. But the doctors didn’t ask any more questions; they just treated me, and, unfortunately for me, I survived. I ended up with third-degree burns across the entire right side of my face, most of my nose, and the other half remained intact; that’s all I kept of my beauty. I lost vision in my right eye; the retina was completely burned, along with my eyelid, cheek, forehead, chin, and part of both the upper and lower lip. A part of my hair was also burned, which grew back after I cut it. They did what they could, I can’t be mad at those doctors, although I wish I could, but I can’t hate them because they did their best to heal the part of my face that was disfigured. Part of my cheek had to be removed since the skin was practically charred, red, carbonized in some areas, blisters, irritation, swelling. Of course, the pain, which at first was one of the worst I had ever experienced in my life, eventually faded with time, as that area of my face became numb from nerve damage. I could hit or pierce that part of my face, and I wouldn’t feel a thing. I even remember one doctor calling it a fourth-degree burn because part of the nerves had been damaged. They had to remove a very damaged and irreparable section of skin, and the bone was visible in my chin. They had to stitch a piece of healthy skin over that area. I still ask myself how I survived. I would have preferred my death and to finally rest in peace, like my father, but that wasn’t the case. It took more than a month for me to recover, even though I was constantly being checked in the hospital and, of course, kept away from my mother and that hellish place. My mind had deteriorated, my sanity was slipping, and I couldn’t stop myself from going mad. It had been the last straw. I will never forgive that. I never did, and I don’t plan to forget it. It’s a mark that will never fade. It caused so many insecurities in my appearance. I look horrible. I couldn’t and still can’t recognize myself in the mirror. I only see a deformed gaze full of hatred and rage. At that moment, I met a psychiatrist who was assigned to help prevent my mental health from being affected by the shock, but it was too late. I didn’t want to speak with her. I refused to cooperate. I didn’t need psychological help. What I needed was vengeance, blood, death, and pain.”

Will continue...

[hjh-ceilo-monster]

BTS Song drabble : D - day (MYG)

Summary : In this chasing game, one was at the top, another was at the bottom. To break the hierarchy, there should only be one winner.

The law’s hand 

or 

The outlaw

Who would win?

Photos : All copyright reserved to the owners.

Gif. : Special thanks to @sugajimin​ for further inspo. There’re tiny subtitle that I put to create further engagement and imagination.(I hope so🤞🏽)

Plot : Special thanks to Psych-Hunter(iQIYI) and (Su)R-chwita ep.9😹

Ambience :  1930's Ambient City Soundscape, Vintage City Sounds 

Trigger warning : (quite) detailed violent scene, self-harm, death of characters

This fanfiction is for entertaining purposes. The story has entirely written up from the writer’s imagination from different inspiration. None of this should be taken seriously.

Switch over, time tickin' and over.

Author POV.

Tick...Tick...Tick...

The water drips periodically, acting as an ambience inside the dusty room. 

The owner has been laying on his favourite couch for hours, diving deep into his thought. 

“Hyung!”

His door suddenly bangs open by someone. One of his crewmates runs inside with something in his hand. 

“We...found him...here.” The new comer hands a file, trying his best to get the message through while panting hard.

The owner flutters his eyes open. A stir comes out of his mouth before he finally becomes awake and accepts the paper.

The dark orbs skim through the file, catching the main idea out of the long paragraphs in the contract. At last, his eyes land on the bottom. Seeing familiar names with the signatures under neath them make him annoy.

“Huh? Seems like we need to give him a visit again.”

Clack...Clack..Clack..Clack..

He found out.

The end of a letter makes the man stops his footsteps. The feeling of frustration rises up, however, he can’t act out of his character here. Getting out of the building, he got into his car.

“Head back to the mansion.” He tells the driver.

“And about the case?” 

“I need to get another ‘case’.” 

Understanding what to do, he asks nothing more and leave immediately.

“ 1 beef rice noodle pottage soup, beef pork.” 

Finishing his order, he take a seat near the glass window of the cooking station. Not so long after, his order serves.

“A tough day again, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, ma’am.”

“Quit calling me ma’am, boy. Your my vip customer here. You have been here since 10th grade.”

“Or you want me to call you ajuma?” He asks jokingly.

“Aish, call me what ever you want.” The old lady move back to her station.

Minutes later, his crewmates enter the shop, filling the entire floor. Seeing their boss enjoy his meal, no one dares to utter anything that is work-related. 

“ell e beore I et pis... Ou ares ar oo obious.” *Tell me before I get piss. Your stares are too obvious.* The boss speaks while munching his favourite noodle.

“They’re round the corner, hyung.” Someone finally speaks. 

The man taps his finger as if he applaud himself. Coming here today makes his plans flow. 

“Ma’am, I will come back later.” The man slips his money under the bowl. 

Everyone starts the operation. His crewmates head out of the place and prepare the vehicle for their boss. Some of them go ahead to clear their destination.

“And...I need your chopstick with me. I’ll buy a new pack in return.” He smiles at the owner who say nothing, but sighs and wave a hand as a sign to not do what he purposes.

Phone calls have been hitting on the office’s phone none stop. The police try their best to accept every call and write down the reports, running back and forth.

“People were complaining the same case...I don’t think it’s�� a usual case anymore.”

“We need them to handle it.” The cheif tell his subordinates.

Speaks of the devil, the figure appears in the office as if he knows someone call him. The guy in his black suit enters the room. His height is average. However, his aura and the M brooch on his right chest can make everyone who stand in front of him always feels as if they are getting towered by him. 

He is the supreme in this place, if not the supreme in the town.

A walking law.

“Seems like you guys get in some trouble, eh?”  The room falls into a silence, having only phone calls as a background ambience.

“Sir, we got a...” The cheif gathers his courage to explain the situation, but get interrupt by the walkie talkie.

“We found him, sir. Need more people.”

Paying no attention to the cheif, the leader of special crime force says nothing. His natural poker face let no one be able to read the situation. 

“Loud and clear, right? Get your ass up and do your job.” He then heads out.

Flick...Shhh

A smoke comes out from an end of ivory-white cigarettes. He inhales the thin grey fog into his lungs, hoping it will calms his racing mind down a bit.

*Get everything ready.* He orders his right hand man back with his walkie talkie.

Huh...

A grey breath leaves his mouth along with his sighs.

“Seems like the almighty D is also a human.” A bicker from nowhere brakes his thoughts. D lifts his head up to finds the sound source.

“Shut it, Kim. Don’t piss me off even more.”

“Your brother, isn’t it?” Knowing no limit, Kim asks for more information. The man still stays silence.

“Alright, suite yourself.” 

D is by himself again in the silence. His minds is cumalating with plans. 

Shhsshhh...shhhshhh.... “Sir.”

Half and hour ago : @ WNK building

“Where is it?” 

The loud crash echos inside the building. His subordinates are busy taking down their enemy with some help from his buddy.

“Mr.Min...” 

“Speak wisely.” Min grits his teeth as a warning. 

Despite the size different, Min manages to pin down his huge enemy and threat his like a little prey. 

Weehhh...Woohhh...

The police siren comes from afar. His enemy smirks in victory.

“Who knows the genius Min will fall into my trap like a little rat too. Game over, Min.” Now the guy has a guts to speak casually.

“Now your brother will find out. Your big brother will find you.” The guy continues mocking Min, pushing him around emotionally.

“You will...ack.” Giving no chance to speak further, Min uses his chopsticks and stucks it onto the side of his neck. 

He pushes it deep as the red liquid gushing out like juice. IThe harder he push, the more it errupts out like a fountain. His other hand squeeze the neck tightly as if he is quenching an orange.

Bloody orange.

Min keeps tighten his grip onto the guy’s neck. The fountain is slowing down. Slowly and slowly, it turns into a stream of liquid.  

His shirt now paints with red splashes and spots. The paint leave its marks everywhere even on his face, creating some red blossom tattoos on his skin.

“Oh, you're so artsy.”

“No time for it, Jack.”

“I know, buddy. I get what you want. Let’s head out, yeah?”

The two finally arrive the rooftop. Looking down the building, the see bunch of police enter in with commotion.

“Look how desperate they want to catch us.” 

Min sweep his eyes from the top view. His gaze then land on a familiar black grand mercedes among the cop cars. His mouth lifts into a smirk at the sight, knowing exactly whose it belongs.

“Not really. Someone is more desperate.”

Min replies and climbe down the stairs at the side. 

“Eh, eh, wanna get caught? Eh, man.” Jack yells from a far, but Min has already gone half way through.

Plop.

“Let’s tease you a bit.”

D POV.

“No one inside.”

I stares at my subordinate. The young man stands there like statue, uttering nothing more.

“Where is the case?” I ask.

I don’t care much about the destruction of the building or the death of people inside. Fuck it, that isn’t my problem.

What I wants is the bag and a thing inside it.

I was planning to not invovle police. Moving around from the inside without making their suspicion was quite hard. It took me a few years I was to hold the power. 

A rat out of nowhere managed to get the case was out of my plan.

And now my brother get it.

“Retreat.”

I jumps into driver seat and drift his car out of the parking slot. Frustration fills me up, urging to explode. I roar the engine, filling its sound in the empty street.

“Brother, you won’t be free much longer.”

Min POV.

Thud!

“That bastard. He really bet his life on this plan.” I drop the bag onto the coffee table.

“Chill. At least, you get it.” Jack speaks nonchantly and lit his cigarrete. He sways his head from side to side while humming.

Cling...cling...cling...

“Uh, I hate it. Why do you still wear that silly hat? Those bells irritates me.”

I point at the tips of his knitting hat with two spike at each end. The man sways his head even faster.

“This. You know it’s my lucky charm. So what’s next?”

Jack changes his position. Sitting with his feets cross on my coffee table, he cocks his head to the side. I stare back at him, replying nothing. I let the silence grows and engulps our conversation.

“Hyung. We...sorry, sir.” My right hand, who bangs the door open as his habit, enters the room with another file.

“I think I might need to speed things up. Now I get the case. He will soon make his move.”

“You mean...kill you?” Jack smiles. 

“Not yet. He still needs it.” I pat the stuff on a wooden table. 

As my eyes meets him Jack’s smile gets wider. 

“Then I shall act my part.”

Author POV.

Uhhh....hmmmm.....uhhhh...hhhhmmmm......

Min sleeps soundly in his favourite place. The tiring day drains him a lot of energy, leaving the man a few muscles sourness. 

Ahhhh!

Bang! Bang!

The guy wide awakes from the sound. The screams and shouts are getting louder. He is about to stand up, however the ropes around his hands prevent him to do so.

Click.

A revolver taps behind his neck. He can feel the cold metal rubs gently against his skin before it forecfully press back onto the spot.

“Have a sweat dream?” A chill voice comes from behind.

“Should I be glad that we finally meet again?” Min answers back with a little cockiness.

“You sure want your head to be blown off.”

“And you are talkative, not like a usual you.” Min turns himself and grab a gun near him, but he meets with empty pocket.

“Oh, I borrow your rovolver by the way. I know if you die, at least you will love to die with this cutie.”

D walks around the tub for a moment, searching his eyes through the room. 

“So this is where you live. So shabby and poor...like you.” 

D grabs a plastic chair from the corner of the room and take a seat. He stares down his brother with the eyes of disgusted. 

“Rustic and cozy, isn’t it?”

Crossing his leg, D takes out his cigarrete and lit it. He wraps his lips and inhales a bitter scent from it a few times before he continues.

“Now, let’s make a deal. Those stacks of money are all yours. Just give me the case and leave this place. I’ll handle everything. You can live you life far away from here and me in...”

Min lift his hands, interrupting his brother’s talk. Despite the bond around his wrists, he reaches out and grab onto the white stick. He watches the little flame in silence, the sentences after turns muted as he pays no attention to them. 

Puff....

He throws the stick toward the shelf. The flame lits in a blink of an eye. Min give no care at those ‘valuable’ papers in front of him. Now they are burning bright red and blue. 

He thinks this is more beautiful.

“You...bastard....” D grits his teeth in anger. Now he grabs onto Min’s neck firmly.

“Tell me where’s the case.” He demand. Min keeps his poker face and answers nothing, pissing his brother further more.

“What you gonna do? Kill me?” Min smiles delightfully.

Running out of patient, D uses the revolver and knockes him off.

??? POV.

“Hyung, wake up. Hyungie...don’t be like this.”

The voice comes from somewhere far away. However, the tone sounds familiar to me. 

Beepp...Beeppp...Beeeeeppppp....

The loud noise that rings in my ears is so annoying. 

What is going on here?

I try to open my eyes, but something stop me. I don’t know whether it is me or literally someone who stop me to do so. My body gets heavier and heavier.

I am drowning or so I thought.

My body sink down into the ocean, deeper and deeper. I feel a force strangle me around my neck, suffocating me alive.

No...am I even alive?

D POV.

I have been waiting for my brother’s news for a day.

That little rascal was strong enough to go through ‘drowning’, but he hasn’t woke up yet since yesterday.

“Ah...I want to kill you so bad.” I mumble.

The dagger in my hand trails up and down in motion. I make it nice and clean this time, no defect mark on its pure silver skin.

“Master, He’s awake.”

Puck.

“Nice. It’s getting boring here.” I pluck my beauty onto the table.

Sadly, I can’t use her. Like I said before, to send him back home, the least I can do is to use his pretty revolver.

I am trying to be considerated, am I not?

Min POV.

Hahhh...Huhhhh...

The fire lits around the corner. In front of me is a barrel full of water, reflecting my face. There are a few scratch with the blood seeping through.

I squint my eyes to focus the scenarios around me. The place look oddly like somewhere in my memory, but in a dusty and old version. My brain storms some idea to form an answer.

Soon, I get the answer, but from him.

“Look like my little boy didn’t remember this place.” I look up and meet his brown orbs, the scar on his right eyes fades a bit, but still visible.

“You give me the scar and try to kill me once here, remember?”

A flashback runs inside my head like a reel. The man with exact looks except his hair that was longer and blond-color. The scene is overlaping each other. 

There’s me.

There’s is him. 

In a different timeline...

The palace that used to be vibrant with colors now became dull, towering my body with it shadow.

His men pin me down to the cold muddy floor, letting him look at me with those arrogant gaze. 

Smile in victory, the man finally got up from his seat and approached the balcony. 

The man was in a traditional robes. His light blond hair sparked under the moonlight. The fire around him and me make him more visible to my eyes.

“I am the owner of this place, engrave it into your skull, peasant.” 

His hand waved down, motioning his assassin to do the job. 

Author POV.

“I cut heads of people for a reason, you know. That’s how I can make sure they died...painlessly.” 

D steps onto the circle. Grabbing tight onto Min’s hair, he force the man to sink down into a barrel again.

Ackk...ack....

“Wah...that sounds so satisfying.” He forcefully raises the head up from the water.

“How was it?”

The man who calm and collect is nowhere to be found. The true color finally comes out,. D laugh out in madness, satisfying with the scene in front of him.

“When I offered you, I’ve already got what I want. You were a fool to not accept my offer, brother.” 

D stepps back and walks up to another circle, preparing to watch Min’s final moment. Waving his hand down, the assassin get ready to do his job.   

“Now, execution.”

The man forces Min’s head back into dirty liquid again, wanting to drown him to death. Min’s body stuggle as his hands try to get out of the knot. 

“Sink deep and fake your death. The revolver is at the bottom.”

“a..ack?” *Jack?*

“I can only help you this much, buddy. I even take off my lucky charm for you.”

Min does according to Jack’s plan. Sinking himself deep into the cylinder and stopped moving, he successfully fakes his death. 

“Oh, faster than I expect.” 

With the revolver in his hand, D steps down from his circle to come and onspect Min’s body. Seeing the guy freezes in his place, D laughs again with contentment. 

He takes out a ruby human-heart.

Bang! Cling!

The glass shatters.

D crashes down the fire barrels, letting the oil slatter all over the place while the fire chase down the thick black liquid. He throws his lighter, adding more fire.

“Switch over, time tickin'...”

“but not over.” 

Just then Min raises his head up with the revolver in his hand. Aiming at the head of his brother, D does nothing, but smirk.

“Agust, you shouldn’t underestimate me.” 

“If you kill me without the hear, it will be the same result like last time.”

“Let’s bet then.” Min pulls the trigger.

The ruckus at the back of them appears, however Jack’s men are faster. Doing everything according to their bosses’ plan, his men has already mixed in the group from the beginning. Agust’s people soon end up laying lifeless on the floor.

Agust dashes to Min in anger, but someone lock him from behind. His own right hand man lock tight onto the master before revealing himself.

“Ack...Kim.”

“I told you, didn’t I...suite yourself.”

Jack takes out the real heart and shatters it with his dagger.

Cling!

Click.

Bang! 

Agust doesn’t last long.

“Switch over, time tickin' and over.”

“Dr.Kim, when will he wake up?” Hoseok asks the doctor. It has been a year since Yoongi fell into a coma.  

“His personality disorder is critical, now they are inflicting themselves.”

He have hidden his mental condition so well that not even Hoseok, his best friend, knew about it. When he knew everything, it was nearly too late. 

The man nearly cut himself...in his own eyes.

Hoseok took him to hospital. Thankfully, Kim Namjoon, the doctor of his case, was still working. If not because of him, Yoongi would be gone by now.

Hmmm....

A little stir makes both of them look at the body. It is the first time that the lifeless figure makes a move or a noise. 

Hoseok’s eyes brims with tears of hope, looking back and forth between Yoongi and Namjoon. 

“Hyung...” Hoseok calls softly.

Namjoon walks to the monitor and checks the screen. 

Like a miracle, everything comes back to the normal rate. Namjoon notes down everything onto his metal clipboard before he calls nurses inside. 

“Doctor...he...”

Surfacing from the bottom of the darkness, Yoongi finally gains his conscious.

A/n note : And that’s it everyone. I hope you enjoy the story. I finally have a little vacation so here is the tribute for you guys. 

This is the first time I write my story with y/n. Hope you guys not disappointed.

Before ending this, I want to give a few explanation to the story.

After listening to the interview, what I comprehended from the music videos was that Yoongi were fighting with his own personas. Like Namjoon said, he was the only one so far with 3 names. And, the fact that Yoongi devided his personalities accordingly to them made it sometimes difficult for himself to make music.  “If I make it, will this represent suga bts, agust d or me as Yoongi?”

Sum up events : Yoongi faced personality disorder to the point he went into the coma due to self-infliction. His personas, D (The dark past with anger and agressiveness) and Min (The real yoongi), fought over to control the body during Yoongi unconscious inside his mind. The ruby human-heart like that made out of glass was the core, the conscious. Destroying it mean you kill the consious of that persona. Different timelines, I came up with this idea from daechwita, thinking what if he failed to mute (killed) the tyrant king back then. Looking it in that aspect, personally, I think it somehow fit the explanation of Yoongi’s triology. Letting the strong and fury persona control you to handle hate and prejudice, but at the same time, you were the one who deepen your own scars. What if it is getting out of control?

I wrote this story with a retro vibe because of the Haegeum’s settings. From the research I’ve read, the location was age around 1930 - 1960. Starting in 30s, the market hit its peaks around 40s - 50s before the fire incident in 60s. If I was wrong, I sincerely apologized for the mistakes.

Jack and Kim in the story, I used the image of Hoseok from Jack in the box album and Namjoon from Sexy Numkin. I saw a twitter about what if the three cross path. I didn’t capture the account nor remembered the name. If the idea owner come and see this, I apologize for not crediting you on the top of my ff🙇🏽‍♀️

I think that’s all. Thank you for your attentive reading, see you next session.

[winter-fox-queen]

The Gentry’s Gifts:  Pero

Pero Tovar might meet the woman of his dreams, if he can make himself trust a mysterious visitor.  My  Writer Wednesday thingy.  I am tagging @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @autumnleaves1991-blog @clydesducktape

Warnings:  No smut, a little kissing, eating but it’s Tovar so the pace of that is quick, the S/O is female blank canvas.  I think there is cursing.  Not beta’d — I should be working on something else but this bit me hard, and there may be a second part with Max Phillips.  I have this idea of connecting each story and telling several tales but you know how speedy I write stuff.  So if there are any mistakes, I am sorry.  Basically wrote this and did not read it over even.

Pero’s dreams were sometimes horrible things.  

Sometimes he dreamt of monsters surging over a wall.  Of death and blood, of his sword, or his axe, slicing through men and beast.

Sometimes he dreamed of the wide sky of the desert, the starts shining bright, almost as numerous as his regrets.

And sometimes.  Sometimes.  He dreamed of you.  It filled him with such longing he would wake to the alarm clock’s cry to realize his face was wet with tears.

But, he would put on his suit (wool or polyester, not leather and metal) fill his satchel with the armor of his craft (law briefs, good pens, post it notes) and step out into the world.

He would look for you.  He would look for you on buses.  In bars.  Sometimes he would think, “If I were her, where would I go?”  And he would find himself in libraries.  Museums.  Once he took High Afternoon Tea at a Victorian style house, a dark, grumpy shadow alone at his pwn table, surrounded by ladies wearing fancy borrowed hats and gossip.

The one place he never wanted to see you was the other side of his desk, and so far he had lucked out.  He was a public defender, and the people who came to his door were almost always desperate.

Almost always.  The woman across from him was not.  Steel grey hair in a chignon, cool dark eyes that seemed to be able to read everything about him, a story in every wrinkle, in the scar over his eye, in the silver in his hair.

“We’ve been here before, you and I.”

She said it so seriously, he took it as such…looking at his pile of files.  “Have we?  Forgive me, I have a lot of cases…what is your name, again?  My secretary wrote it down, but it smudged.”

She placed a hand over his, stilling his search.  “I know how you got the scar over your eye.  The first time.  And the second.”

He shivered, pulled his hand away.  “What are…”

“You dream of the Great Wall of China.  You dream of monsters with scales and monsters who are men.  Sometimes the monster is you.”

His back straightened as his heart started to race.  “Lady…”

She folded her hands on her lap.  “I know your dreams because they are not dreams.  You helped me, once.  You could have demanded payment, but you did not.  You told me such stories.  Stories about the endless desert.  About your friend William.  And about her.”

He looked in her eyes.  “You are not yourself.  Let me call a friend — we have social services in this building, they can find you someone to talk to, to help you.”

She stood with an amused smile.  “You didn’t believe me last time, either.  But my people…we always pay our debts.  I will not rest until I have paid mine.”  She leaned forward and whispered your name in his year, like a lullaby, like a promise, and his hand, hovering over the phone on his desk, froze.

She threw a card down on his inked over desk calendar.  “If you want me to help you find her, come here tonight.  Dress nice.  Surely you have something better than that suit.”

He picked up the card.  Writing appeared, an address, in shimmering emerald.

It wouldn’t rip in half.  If he folded it, it popped back, pristine.

It wouldn’t fall into the trash — it stuck to his fingers like tape.

But it would slip into his breast pocket, where it burned throughout the day.

Pero’s after work plans were boring as usual.  A new Thai place opened up on the way home, all beautiful paint and murals.  He thought, maybe, maybe you would like it.  He stood in the doorway, he looked at the people within.

You know where she might be, a voice reminded himself, the card burned.  

He backed out.  “Fuck it.”  He muttered.  “Subway is good enough.”

He ate quickly, hunched over his food in his green and yellow booth.  He was angry.  He hated being manipulated, he hated the idea that his life, his dreams were all a game to some white haired woman who thought being mysterious was cute.  Well.  He’d show her.

He threw out the wrapper and stomped out the door,

He slumped in his car and looked at the GPS.  The card burned in time with his heartbeat.  He took it out.  “If I can’t find the address in the GPS, I’m going home, having a beer, and calling tomorrow off.”

The GPS found the address before he even typed most of it in, and the card flashed in his hand, as if saying, “I told you so.”

“Fine.”  He said, pulling in his seat belt.  “But I’m not getting dressed.”

He did check his teeth in the mirror, take off the tie and unbutton a few buttons, fix his hair, chew a couple of Altoids…

And drove.

It was dark, by the time he got there.  One window like a gold beacon.  “Not exactly the place I’d go to make all my dreams come true.”  He muttered.

Well, not the GOOD dreams, anyway.

He climbed up on the porch.  A man with short hair in an immaculate business suit that cost more than Pero’s whole wardrobe was seated at a card table.  The Queen of Hearts and the Queen of Spades face up before him.  He stared at them like a man trying to decide which chalice was poison.

Pero stood over him a moment.  The other man glanced up.  “She’s inside.”

“What are you doing?”

The other man placed his hands on either side of the Queen cards.  “Trying to choose.”

“Between?”

He smiled a little, his lower lip catching on a fang.  “Life and death.  Go on in.  She;s waiting for you.”

Pero grunted and opened the door.  

“Be kind to her,”. The other man’s voice added softly.  “She’s a good woman.”

He walked down the hall, looking into room as he passed them.  The place was like some screwy version of the TARDIS and was much, much bigger on the inside.  He passed three libraries.  A gallery.  A room with a pool table and another room with a pool.

And there, in the last room was a cozy parlor where two women sat talking.  One of them was the stern woman with iron colored hair.

And one of them was you.

“Pero!”  You almost knock over the table in your excitement.  He held out his arms, shaking, and you plowed right in.  “I thought you were a dream!  I thought you were nothing but a dream!”

He gathered her close, trying to focus past the sudden blurriness in his eyes.  “I never stopped looking.  I didn’t know if you were real but I couldn’t make myself stop looking.”

The woman at the table smiled.  “One debt down.”  

He ignored her, looking down into your eyes.  Your hands came up to gently trace his cheeks, to wipe away the tears.  You beamed at him.  “You are the most beautiful thing in the world,”

“Kiss me,” You whisper.  “I have waited far too long…”

And he did.

The clock started to toll.  “Midnight.  Good.  Take her hand, Pero, and take her out of here…and don’t look back.  Take the stupid vampire with you, if he’s not already left.”  The grey haired woman started pushing them out.  The hall was shorter.

“Th…”. Pero starts to say, wanting to thank her for her help, for bringing you to him.  The older woman pushes him hard.  “No.  No thanks.  No more debts!”

“I…I understand your kindness.”

“That was good!”  You say.  “I like that better than what I said to her, earlier…”. You both step out onto the porch.  “Where’s Max?  Max is my boss.  I don’t know why she called him a vampire…he’s very nice.”  

It’s empty.  Good.  “I don’t know, but he had his own troubles to think about.”  Pero pushes you into the car.  “Close your eyes, sweetheart.”  He says.  “I do not want you to be taken away from me…I do not know how this miracle happened, but I will follow the rules.”

He turned the car around with his eyes closed, hoping that his memory of the wide drive being surrounded by grass was true.  Good.  The car did not hit anything, and soon they were heading down the driveway.  

“Are you hungry?”  He says a moment later.  Your hand is curled in his, and he feels lighter than he’s ever felt.  “I know a great place that’s open late…”

“Take me home.”  You say, instead.  “I want to sit up late and find out everything about you.”

“I want to do everything at your pace,” he says, as she types her address into the gps.  “But I don’t need to wait.  I know perhaps once you get to know me you’ll think the dream far better than reality, but…”

She touched his face.  “But it’s a dream we’ve both had for a long time. We will have to be sensible.”

“Of course.”

“We don’t want family and friends to be like, who the hell is that?  Are you out of your mind?”

He laughed.  Snagged your hand again so he could kiss it.

“But I won’t ever let you go.  I did it once.  But I will never, ever do it again.”

[c4pricornc4ts]

Where'd the Hours go? - Chapter 3 Dadschlatt College Au

Read it on ao3 here or on my wattpad here!

Other Chapters: 1 ✧ 2 ✧

WARNINGS FOR: Implied Child Neglect, Smoking, Swearing

The toddler was dressed in an oversized green button down that- from the looks of it, was buttoned by the boy himself given that it's uneven. Everything looks so big on him and his hair is a mess. There's a red pacifier in his mouth and he's looking at Schlatt with wide brown eyes.

He's handed a black garbage bag. "What- why did you bring up trash? The bins are outside."

"It's not trash." Leslie nods to Tubbo. "It's his belongings."

Schlatt wakes up to the smell of smoke. He’s fairly confident Quackity did something stupid to set it off but he still hurries to check. He needed to be awake anyways to finish baby proofing the apartment for inspection.

The ram confirmed his suspicions when he saw Quackity in an apron he didn’t even know he owned waving away smoke coming from a pan with something so burnt Schlatt couldn’t even tell what it was.

“Y’know just knocking on my bedroom door would wake me up, no need to try and burn the damn apartment down.”

“Who knew following Ranboo’s cereal video could go so poorly?”

“That was CEREAL?” Schlatt turns back to his soon-to-be shared room, it was too early to figure out how his friend managed that. Though he’s sure there’s a good story behind it.

He gets dressed and goes to clean up the living room, Quackity focusing on trying to fix whatever crime he committed in the kitchen. They talk while they pick up, Quackity telling him what was happening in law school and Schlatt telling him about how he fell up the stairs.

“You fell UP the stairs?”

“Yes, up the stairs. Do you even listen to-”

They freeze when there’s a knock at the door. Quackity going over and shoving him towards it with a whispered “Charm her.” Before the duck makes himself scarce but thankfully, still in sight if Schlatt should need him.

He opens the door, and looks up at the woman who he assumes is the same one over the phone and steps aside to let her in.

“I’m Leslie, we spoke over the phone, yes?” She holds out her hand, shifting her clipboard further into her side.

He stares at her outstretched hand for maybe too long before realizing he’s supposed to shake it. “Yeah, I’m Schlatt that’s- that’s Alex.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Quackity asks from the kitchen, opening several cabinets looking for the cups. He opens Schlatt’s liquor cabinet and freezes, looking back at him sheepishly mouthing ‘sorry.` towards Schlatt

Schlatt tries to laugh it off, turning back to Leslie who just checks something off on her paper.

“Put a lock on it and you’re fine.” She keeps walking around, telling them a few things they might want to do. Things neither of the boys would’ve thought of like covering the open outlets.

She finishes looking around and all three of them sit at the kitchen table, the social worker passing over a custody form and a file.

“By signing this you’ll be granting custody of Tubbo, the form just needs you to promise you’ll put him in a school and allow the system to make house visits.” She passes him a pen while Quackity takes the manila folder and opens it.

“So Ms. Leslie, tell me what I’m looking at here.” Quackity has his nose almost touching the paper trying to read the small text. At the top is a small black and white photo paper clipped to the page.

“It’s nothing bad, as you can see it’s not very full. Just a few notes about his behavior and his birth certificate.” She reaches over and points at the section labeled ‘Additional comments’ “We’re not sure if he can speak, he has screaming fits over seemingly nothing, and is incredibly shy.”

“What do we do if he really can’t talk?” Schlatt pushed the forms back to her, scooting his chair towards Quackity so they could look at the file together.

“You won’t need to worry about that, he’s been through a lot. He most likely just needs some stability. Somewhere where he feels safe enough to express himself.” She puts the now signed form on her clipboard and stands up. “He just needs someone to make him feel loved, then if that doesn’t work we’ll talk about speech therapy.”

Quackity takes the small photo of Tubbo and puts it on the fridge. “Oh my god Schlatt he has little horns!”

Schlatt walks over to the fridge to get a closer look. Sure enough, even though it’s the grainiest picture he’d seen, the horns were clearly poking through the toddlers head. A hand in his mouth and wide eyes looking right at the camera, the resemblance was there.

“Poor kid, must’ve hurt to get those so early.” It hurt him to know he wasn’t there to help his kid through the painful process of growing horns.

“Remember in middle school when I had to bring you your homework because your horns were always hurting?”

“Don’t remind me.” He shuddered at the thought. He’d rather have a migraine everyday then ever go through the pain of growing horns again.

“I’ll bring him by tonight if that’s alright with you?”

“That’s great, we’ll be here.” Schlatt walks her to the door, they add each other into their respective contact lists before she’s headed back down the apartment stairs.

“She can have him here by tonight? Wow, same day delivery.”

“Didn’t you know? CPS is partnered with Amazon these days.”

“Wait, really?” Quackity slams the fridge closed and looks behind him towards Schlatt.

“No, not really, Dumbass.” Schlatt shakes his head and goes to put Tubbo’s file in the designated important stuff drawer. He hears Quackity shuffling behind him, zipping up his bookbag.

“Oh. Well this dumbass needs to go to class.”

“You’ll be done by tonight right?” Of course the duck would fail to mention he had law school today. Schlatt feels a surge of guilt when he thinks about how much stress he must be causing Quackity. He’s already balancing streaming and school, now Schlatt’s gone and dragged him into this mess as well.

“ ‘Course I will be, gotta meet my new godson.” Schlatt hands him his glasses and he’s out the door with a wave and another promise to be home to see Tubbo tonight.

Schlatt sits on the living room couch, editing a video on his laptop. His hands itch for a cigarette but he really doesn’t want a social worker to smell that on him. That’d be responsible of him, right?

He finishes a new jackbox video and passes out on the couch, only to be woken up by Quackity tossing his unreasonably heavy backpack at him. He wheezes and throws the backpack off his stomach, the books inside hitting against each other with several thuds.

“Judging by how you're sleeping right now, I guess Little T isn't here yet."

"We’re not calling him 'Little T' it doesn't even make sense. It implies there's a big T and last I checked there's only a big Q and a Big man. No T." He sits up fully, putting his elbows on his legs and leaning into his hands. He feels the couch dip as Quackity sits next to him.

"When he's big, he'll be big T, but right now he's little. So… little T."

"I'm not calling him that."

"Suit yourself."

He keeps his eyes closed, and listens to the sound of Quackity turning on the television. He never knew what the duck would play, it was always something different and usually chaotic.

The sound of one of Quackity's intros begins to play and Schlatt laughs and pushes a smug Quackity off the couch.

"Give me that remote, you've lost youtube privileges."

Schlatt leans over the couch and reaches for the remote the now floored Quackity is keeping away from him.

"My videos are not bad, and I will in fact be showing Tubbo every single one of them as soon as he gets here."

He pins Quackity's right arm and grabs the remote. He starts to laugh when he falls off the couch, joining Quackity between the coffee table and the couch.

He grips the remote tightly, careful to keep the remote close to him so the duck couldn't snatch it back. They're both sitting on the floor, facing each other with their knees against the couch base.

It's one of Quackity's older videos, Schlatt lets it play.

Another roblox raid video is about to begin when there's a knock at the door. Schlatt turns off the TV and brushes off his clothes before rushing to answer.

"Hello again." He smiles when he sees the face of the same woman that had come by earlier. He looks down and his eyes widen when he sees Tubbo.

The toddler was dressed in an oversized green button down that- from the looks of it, was buttoned by the boy himself given that it's uneven. Everything looks so big on him and his hair is a mess. There's a red pacifier in his mouth and he's looking at Schlatt with wide brown eyes.

He's handed a black garbage bag. "What- why did you bring up trash? The bins are outside."

"It's not trash." Leslie nods to Tubbo. "It's his belongings."

Quackity comes up to the door. He looks at the trash bag and then to the toddler. "I mean, not what I was expecting but really what was I thinking? Not like he'd have a suitcase."

Schlatt takes the makeshift bag and sets it against the crib in his room.

He walks back out to see Leslie now holding Tubbo against her hip talking to Quackity.

The duck is nodding very seriously and copying the way the woman has her arms. Schlatt is confused about what they're doing till she carefully passes Tubbo to Quackity. His smile reaches his eyes when he manages to not drop the boy.

Tubbo doesn't seem as happy to be held, he's leaning away from Quackity and reaching for Leslie. Whining, and clearly very nervous.

Schlatt couldn't blame him, Quackity wasn't known for being careful with anything. He'd be nervous too in the toddler's situation.

"Careful with my kid, I don't want him to get dropped and then never want to be held again before I even get the chance." He walks past Quackity and Tubbo, headed towards the door. Leslie follows him.

“If it’s too much, you can always give him up.” She looks so serious Schlatt can’t look her in the eyes anymore. “Do what’s best for him, don’t let pride keep him somewhere that isn’t meeting his needs.”

Schlatt wonders if this woman was just that good at reading people or if she gives this speech to everybody. He lies through his teeth when he tells her he’d never be too proud to make the right decision. Everyone who has ever met him will tell you he thinks only with his ego.

She leaves, and as soon as he closes the door he lets out the breath he was holding and goes back to the kitchen.

“He’s light, I read that two year olds were hard to carry.”

“Maybe you’re just strong.”

Quackity readjusts so Tubbo is further up his hip. “You know that’s not true. Should we be worried he’s this light?”

Schlatt reaches his hands out, Quackity awkwardly passes Tubbo over to him. He’s no longer whining but rather is just staring at them both with wide eyes.

“Hey buddy, I know it’s a lot to take in.” He pats Tubbo on the back. “What about some dinner? Get you weighing more with a grilled cheese.”

With the help of Quackity they get Tubbo situated in the tiny booster seat. The duck sits next to the boy, handing a small stuffed animal to keep him occupied while Schlatt cooks.

He makes one for each of them and adds some fruit on the side, setting it down in front of the two before going to sit across from them.

Quackity cuts Tubbo’s into smaller bits while the toddler watches with his hand in his mouth. When Quackity finishes he takes his hands away but Tubbo makes no move to eat on his own.

Schlatt and Quackity exchange a look before the duck picks up a small piece and brings it up to Tubbo’s mouth. Gently prying the toddler’s hand away from his mouth.

Tubbo refuses to eat it. Turning away and putting his hand back in his mouth.

“I promise it tastes better than it looks, I only burned it a little bit.” Schlatt encourages him, before reaching over and taking a small piece of Tubbo’s sandwich and eating it. “See? Now you.”

Tubbo smiles a little but continues to suck on his fingers instead. Quackity and Schlatt continue eating thinking of what to try next. He didn’t want to force the kid to eat it, maybe he just didn’t like that food. Kids can be picky.

“What about some juice? Or-or some apple slices?” Quackity finishes his sandwich and goes over to the fridge taking out an apple and a caprisun.

“Quackity is offering you one of his favorite drinks, you should feel honored Tubs.” Maybe the little ram does, it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling when all he does is stare.

The apple is sliced and placed infront of him and Quackity opens the caprisun before his phone rings. “It’s Karl, I forgot I’m supposed to record with him today. Shit, hold on you two.” He goes to his room, leaving Schlatt alone, sitting across from his kid.

He stares at Tubbo, leaning back and folding his hands on the table. They stare at each other for a moment before Tubbo takes his hand out of his mouth and starts to cry.

Schlatt walks over to him and picks him up out of the seat. “No no no don’t do that don’t uh- don’t cry please?” He bounces him and pats his back but it doesn’t seem to help. The kid buries his head on Schlatt’s shoulder and sobs, and Schlatt cringes from the feeling of his slimy hands on his arm and the noise.

“Oh my god, Quackity!”

Quackity rushes out and relaxes when he sees there’s no danger. Besides the idiot in front of him. But he’s more of a danger to himself. “Maybe he’s bored? I’d cry too if I had to just sit and stare at your ugly face.”

“Bro what the fuck?”

“Just put on some of those weird kids youtube videos! Babies cry, Schlatt. It's like- 90% of what they do.”

And that’s how Schlatt ended up on the couch, watching one of those baby sensory videos with a sniffling toddler who still hadn’t eaten a damn thing.

There’s a rainbow bouncing across a black background with some soft music and for a moment Schlatt finds himself just as immersed in it.

Tubbo’s hand is back in his mouth and Schlatt notes he needs to get him something to chew on later, but for now, the poor kid needs a tissue. He leans over to the coffee table to grab one, careful not to disturb the toddler who is currently clinging to his side like a koala.

He wipes his nose, with thankfully no protest from Tubbo. Before taking another tissue and gently wiping the tear tracks away. “It’s gonna be okay, it’s- it’s okay kid.”

Tubbo puts his head against Schlatt's side, and Schlatt props his feet up on the coffee table. Getting comfortable before leaning his head back on the couch.

By the time Quackity was done recording with Karl, which was quite the struggle to do on his laptop, Schlatt and Tubbo were both asleep on the couch. He considers waking them up, but he really didn’t want Tubbo to cry again. So he brings the untouched fruit over to the living room and turns off the TV before bringing his laptop out to the couch and editing quietly next to the two.

He calls it a successful day, after all everyone was alive, right?

[imaginetonyandbucky]

The Buy In

Chapter 6: A New Hope

by @dracusfyre

A week or so later, Bucky met KT up for their usual shift and was surprised to see that the normally taciturn man was visibly excited, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waited. “What’s up?” Bucky asked, curiosity driving him to jog across traffic to see what had KT so worked up.

“It’s Community Appreciation Day,” KT said, jerking his head towards Tony’s garage a few blocks away. His legs were shorter than Bucky’s but excitement was making him walk fast enough that Bucky had to make an effort to keep up.

“Community Appreciation Day?” Bucky repeated incredulously. "What is that?"

"What does it sound like, doofus?" KT said, but he was in too good of a mood for his words to have any heat.

Bucky shook his head. Of course Tony had community appreciation days. At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if Tony had an EEOC office and regular OSHA inspections and celebrated Office Professional's Day. "I'm just surprised I hadn't heard of it before now."

“Yeah, they're usually on real short notice. The Engineer brought in a shipment late last night so the Boss spread the word that we were having a party.”

Now Bucky was even more confused. He knew from the case file that the Engineer ran Tony’s chop shop operations, stealing high end automobiles and helping them disappear, whole or in pieces, on the black market. What that had to do with appreciating the community Bucky had no idea; it’s not like Tony was giving away the cars he stole…right? 

When they nodded to Tony’s guards and pushed open the door to the garage, Bucky’s jaw dropped. In the wide open space, where there was usually a variety of half-built classic cars, there was instead half a dozen sleek, low slung cars that looked like they were breaking the speed limit just sitting there. He recognized the logo for Ferrari and Lamborghini but the rest he’d never even heard of before. Most of them had their hoods up for car enthusiasts to drool over the high-performance engines and Bucky felt his heart start to beat faster as he left KT behind to look at the Lamborghini. He hadn’t really had his hands on a car engine since he joined the Army, other than doing his own routine maintenance, but looking at the ridiculously high-powered engine on this car was like seeing the face of God.

“Look at you, you sexy beast,” Bucky murmured, running a hand over the gleaming engine block. It was like it had barely been driven, it was so clean. “You’re sex on wheels, that’s what you are.”

“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just really into cars?”

Bucky turned and his heart flipped when he saw Tony smiling at him, wearing a suit with an AC/DC shirt underneath. Tony pushed his glasses up onto his head and leaned his hip on the car’s bumper, hands in his pockets as he studied Bucky with what looked like fond amusement. “This thing is like the Mona Lisa of cars,” Bucky said, feeling strangely shy. This was the first time he’d seen Tony since the night of the ball and he suddenly, stupidly, wished he had shaved and worn his nice jeans.

“This one is nice,” Tony agreed, “but that one is my favorite.” He gestured with his chin towards the bright red Ferrari across the room, scissor doors opened up and away from the car like fiery wings.

“I can see that, it’s definitely your style.”

“Follow me, one came in that I think is your style,” Tony said, pushing off the car.

“Yeah?” Bucky was intrigued and flattered as Tony led him through the crowd of people. “Which one- Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker,” he blurted when they stopped in front the most goddamn beautiful car he’d ever seen.

“The Bugatti La Voiture Noire,” Tony said, but his eyes were on Bucky’s face, not the car. “0 to 60 in 2.5 seconds, with 1,180 pounds of torque. Top speed of 261 miles an hour.”

Bucky whistled, long and low. “It looks like the Batmobile,” he said, smiling when he surprised a laugh out of Tony. “If a ninja was a car, it would be this car.”

Tony started to say something, but at that moment came the sound of someone tapping on a microphone. “Hello?” Bucky heard someone say. “Mr. Stark, are you ready?”

With an apologetic glance to Bucky, Tony jogged up to where they had made a makeshift stage out of a metal table. Tony climbed on top and took the microphone. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he said, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes as his grin grew wide and polished. “Are you ready for everyone’s favorite day of the quarter?” The crowd, which had quieted and turned to face Tony, cheered. “I know, me too. As you can see, there are six cars, so there will be six MVPs named today. As your name is called, winners, come up to take a bow and tell us which car you will be taking for a test drive before they all move on to their new owners.”

“That’s the reward?” Bucky said with surprise to no one in particular. “You get to drive the cars? Where?”

“The Boss rents out a racetrack,” the guy next to him said. “You get to drive it for thirty minutes. Or you can just take the cash prize, if you aren’t interested in the cars or don’t know how to drive.”

“Let’s take a minute to get to know our guests,” Tony was saying. “The sexy red beauty is a Ferrari LaFerrari, a lame name for a nice car. This particular one used to be owned by Mark Zuckerburg, purchased for $1.4 million with the proceeds of selling Facebook user data to over 150 companies. Proceeds from its resale is going to the Free Internet Project.” There was enthusiastic applause, then he gestured towards the Bugatti. “This fucking amazing car is a Bugatti La Voiture Noire, the most expensive car on the planet at $18 million. Jeff Bezos commissioned this car even as workers in Amazon warehouses were passing out from exhaustion while working for minimum wage. Proceeds from the sale of this pinnacle of human engineering will go to help Amazon workers unionize for better working conditions.” Each car in the warehouse had a similar story, and Bucky couldn’t help booing and cheering with the crowd as he heard each story.

“But enough of those assholes,” Tony said, waving for the crowd to get quiet. “Let’s hear about our heroes. First is Harley Keener, who has worked tirelessly to set up our own free neighborhood broadband using satellite dishes he made himself; it’s making ISPs in the city big mad, as the kids say, but we’ve got higher and more consistent speeds than they provide so they can suck it, right? It’s not like they were laying fiber here anyway.” As he spoke, a teenager came up and Tony gave him a hand to help him climb onto the table. There was applause, and the kid picked the Lamborghini, and hopped down off the table with a check and a certificate from the Maria Stark Foundation. The rest of the projects were in the same vein: a woman who set up a program to encourage stores and restaurants to donate excess food to soup kitchens and shelters to reduce food waste ("I know it's against the law, but it's a stupid law so we've elected to ignore it"); an older Black man who got the city to put in new solar-powered bus stops at safer and more convenient locations; and a principal who had a 100% graduation rate for the first time in the school’s history, among others. “And every senior was registered to vote as they got their diploma,” Tony added. “Great work, everyone! Winners, I’ll see you soon for your test drives, and for everyone else make sure you eat all this food, boxes are at the end of the table for you to take some home.” There was another round of applause, the biggest one yet, as Tony handed the microphone to Happy and climbed off the table.

“You’re just a regular Robin Hood, aren’t you?” Bucky said when Tony found him again, this time holding a plate full of chicken wings, donuts, and assorted fruit. “Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?”

“I like to think of myself as an instrument of poetic justice,” Tony said around a mouthful of food. “I used to steal them and wreck them, but I realized this was more fitting.”

Bucky knew he shouldn’t be quite so amused about six counts of grand – very grand – theft auto, but it was hard not to smile at the smug look on Tony’s face while he had powdered sugar in his goatee.  As someone pulled Tony away with a question, Bucky felt his phone buzz with a notification. He moved closer to the wall as he pulled it out to check his messages.

Gonna be a party tonight, his Discord contact had written, along with an address. A very familiar address, since he was standing right at it. You gonna be there?

Bucky stared at the message and sagged against the wall as his stomach sank. Glancing up at the cars, he realized that the police must have gotten a tipoff that the cars were incoming and were planning to raid the garage tonight, before they disappeared again. The message wasn’t an invitation, it was a warning for him to stay away so his cover wouldn’t get blown. “Shit,” he said, and wiped a hand over his face as he thought furiously.   

“What’s up?” Tony asked, licking wing sauce off his fingers. “You look like you got bad news.”

Bucky stared at him for a moment and realized that there was no way he was going to let Tony get arrested, no way he was going to let him go to jail or let his name get dragged through the mud and see everything he'd built get torn apart by rival gangs. “Want to go on a date?” he blurted.

Tony’s face went slack with shock. “A date?” He blinked at Bucky for a long time, mouth quirking, before his face suddenly fell. “I can’t. You’re an employee,” he said regretfully.

“Seriously?” This guy, for crying out loud. “Ok, uh…” Bucky thought fast. “What about an employee counseling session? With food? We can talk about my, um, five year career plan.”

“Five year plan.” Tony stared at him with amused disbelief. “Ok, sure. Let’s do some employee counseling. When?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Tony repeated, clearly fishing for an explanation but Bucky couldn’t think of a good one so he just shrugged. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Far be it from me to discourage people from having life goals. Let’s say 8:00?”

“Sounds great,” Bucky said, trying and probably failing to keep the relief out of his voice.

“Ok, I’ll pick you up.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” Bucky stood around awkwardly for a moment, then nodded stiffly and walked away. If he was going to have an identity crisis and second guess every decision he’d made in life that had led to him asking an organized crime boss out on a date, he should probably do it in privacy and hopefully get it done with by 8.

Baffled, Tony watched Blue Eyes hurry away, running the conversation over in his head until suddenly realization dawned. Then he found himself smiling so widely his cheeks hurt; joy was like champagne bubbles in his chest, making him want to laugh for no particular reason. He tossed his half-empty plate of food into the closest trashcan and threaded through the crowd until he found Rhodey leaning against the door, typing something one handed into his work tablet.

“Rhodey,” Tony said, beaming.

“Tony,” Rhodey said, looking up warily.

“Blue Eyes wants to have dinner with me. And it has to be tonight.”

Rhodey frowned. “But tonight is-”

“Exactly.”

Rhodey took one look at the beatific look on Tony’s face and started shaking his head. “Tony, no,” he said in warning.

“Tony, yes. He’s trying to protect me, Rhodey.” Tony felt downright giddy.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do! He knows the police are going to raid the garage tonight and he doesn’t want me here when it happens so I don’t get arrested for possession of stolen property. It’s so goddamn romantic I can’t stand it.” Brooks, or whatever the hell his real name was, couldn’t know that Tony had contacts inside every major law enforcement organization operating in the city and had known about the raid almost as soon as they had applied for a warrant. The stolen cars were already being prepared to be moved to a separate location, and in their place were going to be the exact same models all purchased legally and in Tony’s name. Pepper and her army of lawyers had already prepared righteously indignant press releases and harassment lawsuits and were just waiting for the cops to show up. Tony had even picked his outfit for his brief stint in jail, but apparently now he had other plans for the evening. “You know what this means, right?”

“I know what you think it means, Tony, and I still think you should be careful. He is still a cop.”

Tony planted a loud, smacking kiss on Rhodey’s cheek. “You can’t take this from me, sour puss. I might get to keep Blue Eyes after all!”

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (5)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

The days are the same and fortunately for you, no further attempted aggression has been committed on you. But it's not the police you have to thank for that, but just yourself. Because when you tried to file a complaint against your attacker, all the police were able to tell you was that there was nothing they could do. Because as you bear no stigma, no trace of blow ... there would be no point in filing a complaint. You sigh just by thinking about it, decidedly the mentality of some police officers will always surprise you. You really wonder what criteria they are recruited on.  

While you were serving a few clients, your gaze was slowly moving towards Jed, leaning over those drafts blackened by his pencil. God he’s beautiful when he is focused... something about him attracts you when he's in that state. But now is not the time to be lost in your thoughts! Let's stay professional first! you walk towards him a tea in hand that you lay on the table, bringing him out of his concentration. He gave you a smile, that angelic smile that could melt all hearts. We remain professional I said!

“I think it'll do you the greatest good, three coffees in a row could turn you into a ball of nerve. always immersed in your research about this ... Hoggins?” You said looking down to the papers.

“Yeah, I need to know a couple of things about him for this reception...so I could more easily slip into the crowd and rummage through his stuff without him noticing anything. Can you imagine if I find anything compromising about this story? This will create the biggest scandal this city... this state has never known.” he responds with some enthusiasm.

“You could also be killed so no one knows. That Hoggins is a very influent man. He could hire someone to kill you and your peers, like that bastard... Forget it. I can’t believe what the police told me... What are they waiting for? that I'm dying to act?”  

“This the reason why I rather fend for myself and solve problems in my own way. and that's what I plan to do with Mike. he thinks he can belittle me and hit me with impunity, he is seriously mistaken. I'll take the time it takes, but one day I'll give him back the blows he'll take from me.” He replies putting his glasses back.  

“Well, not so shy as I thought after all.”

“I am someone who interacts with people based on how they act with me. If they put me lower than earth ... I do the same.”  

He sipped his tea while putting a little order on the table. You can't help but look at his piercing blue eyes, so attractive, that's what makes all his charm, his major asset. When they stared at you, you feel your cheeks blush slightly and with a little embarrassed laugh, you get up and start heading to the counter ready to welcome new customers.

“You know...” Jed starts making you stop and turn to him. “I was thinking... that you could go with me to this reception. If I say you're with me, I don't think it's going to be a problem.” he said with a little smile.  

“What?? Me?? Jed I... It’s really nice of you but...I’m not a journalist and even less a girl from high society. I wouldn't feel like I belong there. And then I might embarrass you in your work...I don’t know if it’s a really good idea.” you answer putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why not? I'm going to have a good night at this reception too. But knowing Melina and Mattew, they're going to go their own way and leave me alone lost in the middle of people I don't know. So, if I can share it with a friend... And chat with someone I like and know... I'd rather you came.”  

“Well...okay. Thanks Jed. I appreciate that you've thinking about me.”

The door opened and a woman entered the café. Given the outfit she was wearing, she was either working in the office or she was a businesswoman. But a horrible thrill pierced you when you saw in the distance Mc Kellan a smile on the corner. Whoever this woman is, this scumbag knows her for sure.

“Are you the owner of The Nebula?” said the woman by looking around her.

“Yes. Can I help you?” you answer a little worried.

“Let me introduce myself: Mrs Alice Milton. Hygiene inspector. Mr. Kellan has informed me that you are not complying with certain health measures and I am here to check. You don't mind, do you?

“No... Not at all.” you said, trying to stay calm.  

Mrs Milton began to do his inspection. She checked every table, every seat, every window. No object escaped his gaze. Then she went to the back shop to check the reserves and worktops. She wrote down two or three things on her notebook and went on.

You observe her, the fear in your stomach, trembling slightly to the simple fact that she could make fall the cleaver on you. You suddenly feel a hand resting on your shoulder, it was Jed's. He gave you a big smile to reassure you, calm your fears and make you understand that whatever she says, he will help you.

Mrs. Milton put away her belongings without saying a word, then left the café to go to McKellan. From the counter you could see them chatting, Mc Kellan didn't look happy and the young woman tried to calm him down. You'd like to be a pigeon or a fly to find out what they're telling each other.

Suddenly you see Mc Kellan driving away without Mrs. Milton. This one came back to the café but for some reason, you feel more comfortable...as if she were just becoming a customer like the others. And this was confirmed when she smiled at you, a reassuring smile, a friendly smile.  

“You can breathe now, he's gone. I'm sorry I did this with you. But I had to stay professional in front of him. You are not Horace's first victim. Can I?” She said, looking at Jed’s table.  

“Sure.” Jed simply said.

“You look like... not to appreciate him either.” you said while keeping your distance.

“Not really. Horace trusts very few people. He's a very selfish man. Who wants to impose his laws and his manners on everyone. and as soon as someone dares to oppose him... He's calling on me to ‘make the vermin flow’. As I said, you’re not the first one on his list, and you won’t be the last.”

“I have no doubt about that. Coffee?” you ask her before filling her a cup when she nodded. “What did you say to him? Outside.”

“That I found nothing. And as always, he was upset. I said I'll continue my search...But don’t worry I won't do anything. On the other hand, be careful, He’s not likely to give up so easily. And if he gets more upset, he'll make you killing and throwing in Dry Creek.”

Jed says nothing but Danny burns internally, if someone has the right to kill you...It’s him and ONLY him. That's one more reason to kill McKellan. This guy is not only dangerous for you, but for Danny's reputation. There can only be one killer here and Danny is not the type to share the scene. Danny has no choice. He has to get rid of Mc Kellan first. Mike can wait a bit.  

“What can I do?” you ask worried.  

“Do nothing toward him. Everything you do, he’ll turn it against you. And he’ll get what he wants. I suggest you to protect yourself. Or at least not to be alone in case he'll send you another assailant. Always have something to defend yourself. Or someone.” said Mrs Milton.

You nodded and after a few minutes of conversation, Mrs Milton leaves the coffee, wishing you good luck. You clean Jed's table, who was tidying up his belongings, getting ready to leave. He wrote something on a sheet which he handed you with a little smile. You tilt your head to the side, an eyebrow raised.

“My phone number, in case you’ll need something. Or just want to talk.” He said.  

“Jed come on...I can...” you start to answer before seeing he’s insisting. You sight, taking the sheet on your hand. “Fine...Thanks Jed. I’ll owe you one. More than one in fact.”

“I know you’ll help me someday. So, don’t worry. Oh and... I love your praline and coconut cake. A strange but very interesting mix.” he said before leaving, weaving his hand with that angelic smile on his face.

The rest of the day took place and it must be admitted that it was quite sporty. It's hard to handle so many people on your own. But until you have some financial stability, you can't hire someone at the moment. After your usual closing ritual, you go home. Next goal:  buys a pepper spray or a small knife, just in case.

You pick up your mail and go back to your apartment. What a relief to finally be at home. You put your belongings on the couch, the letters in a bowl dedicated to your mail and you head to the kitchen. Family's photos decorated some walls of the apartment reviving wonderful memories... But also, painful wounds. Homemade carbonara pasta for the evening will suit perfectly. it is rare that you take industrial products. As you put all the ingredients on the worktop, the phone rang.

Who can call you at this hour? You don't remember giving someone your landline number since you arrived. You ignore the call and go back to your business when it rang again. Someone's really trying to reach you. You take the handset of the phone determined to know who can call you at this time. Every time, it's a number error.

“Hello? Who’s on the phone?” you said.

“Oh. You're not my aunt. Sorry I got the wrong number.” respond the other person on the phone.  

Jackpot.

“It doesn't matter, it happens to everyone. Good night.” you replied as start to hang up.  

“Wait, wait!  Can... can we talk a little bit more? I never heard such a beautiful voice like yours before.”  

“Quite a charmer, are you? Well, if you want. if it can make you happy.” You answer with a little laugh.

“Thanks. It's rare for people who take the time to chat with strangers on the phone. Usually, they hang up immediately or never respond. Nice shirt by the way.”  

" well, it's usually rare to answer numbers that...” You start before realizing what he said last. “excuse me...What did you just say?”

“I said nice shirt. Purple suits you well.”

“H-how do you know that?”  

“... Raise your head.”

You gradually raise your head and face the building in front of yours. In the window that faced yours, you see him. A man with a white mask was there, tilting his head waving his hand to say hello.

“See me now?” He chuckles.

“Who the f*** are you ??” You respond even if you already know the answer.  

“What a lovely language...Well, I'm sure you already know the answer but if you insist. You can call me: Ghostface. I think I'm gonna call you...”

“what do you want?”

“Just talk. As I said, I never heard such a beautiful voice before...and never see such a pretty face like yours too.”

“call a prostitute if you want to chat, you freaking weirdo.” You replied ready to hang up.

“Tsk tsk. No no no my little star...if you hang up...you won’t see the sun rise tomorrow. Or your dear nerdy friend won’t see it.”

“Leave Jed alone! It’s between you and me! if you dare to touch him, I swear...” you say angrily before hearing him laugh.  

“Calm down my sweet little star... The truth is, I don't intend to touch him. It is thanks to him that I have acquired this beautiful but sinister reputation. He makes me the star of Roseville. We need each other. But let's talk about you. I must admit that I find it difficult to understand how such beauty as you live in such city. You must have a good reason.”

“It’s none of your business. I can ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I want to leave a trace in this miserable world. I want everyone remember my name. But for that I have to move across all the country. You know what? I'm going to let you live for now. But I advise you not to tell the police about our little conversation. It will pain me a lot to disfigure such a pretty face ... and a pretty body. And don't worry, we'll meet again. Good night my sweet little star... Have a beautiful dream.” He said chuckling before hanging up.  

You hang up the phone on the table and when you look back at the window, he was gone. Like a shadow in the night. You take a deep breathe, rubbing your face in your hands and sit on the sofa. Deep down, you felt that sooner or later you would face him. But not so quickly. Fortunately for you, he is not determined to make you a new victim of his macabre round. But for how long? you hope for as late as possible.

Unknowingly, my dear little star you fell into the spider's web. Without knowing it you have caught the attention of the devil.  

And that's just the beginning.

***

(Done! I'm glad to see you like it! And I hope it will continue! By the way I recently watched The Boy and discovered that dear Brahms~ And I must confess that he does not leave me indifferent. What a lovely British accent he has~ See ya! )  

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: The Rebellion of Adrien Agreste, ch. 14

Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Kagami Tsurugi, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Luka Couffaine, Lila Rossi/karma, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/aneurism, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Kagami Tsurugi, Plagg & Tikki

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Lila Rossi, Jagged Stone, Plagg, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Luka Couffaine, Penny Rolling, Anarka Couffaine, Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine, Kagami Tsurugi, Alya Césaire, Chloé Bourgeois, Wayhem, Nadja Chamack, Nathalie Sancoeur, Sabine Cheng, Tom Dupain, Tikki, Fang, Principal Damocles, Caline Bustier, Ms. Mendeleiev, original minor character, Alec Cataldi, Lila Rossi’s Mother, Sabrina Raincomprix, Roger Raincomprix, Mylène Haprèle, Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste’s Bodyguard, Nino Lahiffe, Nooroo

Tags: Lila Rossi salt, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Teenage Rebellion, Swearing, Bad Parent Gabriel Agreste, Crack Treated Seriously, Lila Rossi’s Lies Are Exposed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Luka Couffaine Needs a Hug, Paparazzi, Parentification, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Gabriel Agreste Needs an Aneurism, Uncle Jagged Stone, we’re all queer here, the spirit of punk is sometimes just being allowed to be yourself, Kagami Finds Her Groove, punk rock fashion, Savage Kagami, Marinette protection squad, Good Parent Sabine Cheng, Good Parent Tom Dupain, Protective Kagami Tsurugi, Protective Luka Couffaine, Bisexual Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Pansexual Luka Couffaine, Sharing a Bed, Pet Names, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Instagram, Bullying, Social Media, Anxiety, Makeover, Hugs, will cure your acne, Face Punching, Bad Ass Juleka Couffaine, Rumors, Protective Juleka Couffaine, Protective Adrien Agreste, Lawyers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holding Hands, accountability, mental health, Jagged Stone’s well-paid pet shark, How to Make the Evening News, Sexy eyeliner for days, one fish two fish Lila is a screwed fish, How to have fun and piss Gabriel off, Fuckery, sweet litigious karma, Alya sugar, lawyer shark doo doo doo doo doo doo, Schadenfreude, Bad Ass Alya Césaire, Gaslighting, abuse denormalization, Jagged likes his lawyers like he likes his pets: toothy af, Blood in the Water, Everything you didn’t know you wanted and some things you did, Gabriel Agreste is shark bait, Denial, Consequences, Principal Damocles salt, caline bustier salt, the impotence of Gabriel Agreste, snarky Nooroo, lies and the lying liars who tell them, Lila’s brain is a narcissistic hellscape, Lila’s mind is built like an Escher piece, Alec Cataldi salt, Adrien Sugar, wholesome salt, Fu Salt, Kwami Shenanigans, Nooroo is a little shit

Summary: Jagged's Shark! Doo doo doo doo doo doo!

Notes: Jagged’s shark! Doo doo doo doo doo doo! (@norakwami​ fault, there.) For real, though. Look up the lawyer’s first and last name for extra lulz. I research too much. And also I love puns. Also researched diplomatic immunity—Lila’s mom could refuse to waive it only for her bosses to override her and waive it anyway. And for serious crimes that’s sometimes the case. I wanted some Alya sugar here; yeah, she and multiple other people believed Lila and dismissed Marinette's concerns. The adults are the ones who deserve salt, though. Not a 14-year-old.

AO3 link

Chapters 1-2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

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

They were still waiting for M. Damocles to finish contacting Mme. Rossi, Marinette having fallen asleep against Sabine and Adrien tempted to follow suit, when a commotion caught their attention. Marinette blinked awake at the shouting.

Curious, Adrien got up to peer around the corner. What he saw left him gaping.

Mme. Bustier’s class had spilled out of the classroom, and were watching as Lila and her mother yelled at each other in rapid-fire Italian, both red-faced. It was almost shocking how they met the stereotype of the hot-blooded Italian in their fervor.

Adrien watched, captivated, only vaguely aware when he was joined by the others, and when the lawyer knocked on the principal’s door and let him know about the “spectacle,” as she called it.

Marinette cried out, her face pale, pointing at a butterfly hovering near the scene. Alya took out her phone to record it, her face a mix of horror and excitement, as though she wasn’t sure she wanted an Akuma just now. Mylène started crying. Juleka moved protectively in front of Rose. Other classroom doors were opening as teachers and students alike came to investigate the commotion.

The Akuma hovered, seemingly uncertain as to which of the Rossis it wanted to go after. Unfortunately, Lila saw it, her expression brightening as she dashed toward it.

“I’ll show you all!”

Adrien gasped as the girl touched her pendant to the Akuma and a familiar butterfly-shaped mask appeared over her face. She would come after him and Marinette, and probably Luka and Kagami. And Jagged and Penny and the lawyer and Tom and Sabine… They were all defenseless. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get away quick enough to protect them.

As he stood there, frozen, Alya dropped her phone, rushed forward, and clocked Lila in the face. Once she was on the ground, she ripped the necklace from her neck. Mme. Mendeleiev rushed forward with a large beaker from her chemistry lab as Alya broke the pendant, capturing it and covering the opening with a book.

Marinette rushing past him unfroze Adrien, and he ran after her as she hugged a pale, panting Alya.

“Alya, that was amazing,” she breathed. “You saved everyone.”

“Mari— Oh, god, Mari. She wanted to be Akumatized. She was going to go after you and hurt you, and I just couldn’t—” Alya was sobbing in her arms, babbling. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. I’ve been a terrible friend! You tried to tell me, and p-protect me and instead I believed someone I barely knew instead of you. I c-couldn’t let her hurt you!”

As Marinette reassured her, Mme. Mendeleiev told a pallid and shaking M. Damocles that she would put the Akuma somewhere Lila couldn’t reach it for Ladybug and Chat Noir to deal with later.

Lila was keening softly on the ground, her nose obviously broken with this punch, and Adrien couldn’t help but feel a bit of schadenfreude at the sight. Her mother seemed frozen in shock, not even moving forward to comfort her daughter.

“Alya got the Akuma on video,” he murmured, thinking aloud. “So there’s video of Lila going after it to be voluntarily Akumatized.”

Nino picked up Alya’s phone, checking to see that nothing was broken. He pressed the screen to stop the recording. “Yeah, dude. She totally did. Sabrina, you might wanna call your dad. This is big.”

Sabrina immediately pulled out her phone and retreated into the classroom; Chloé blocked the door to make sure Lila didn’t try to stop her, though it seemed unnecessary—the girl gave no indication she’d heard.

M. Damocles stepped forward toward Mme. Rossi. “We will need to have a conversation about your daughter, but perhaps that will need to wait until after her arrest.”

Mme. Rossi turned white, eyes wide. “A-arrest?!”

“Your daughter just knowingly and willingly attempted to aid and abet a terrorist, Mme. Rossi,” the lawyer said, not unkindly. “She will face far more than just the lawsuits by M. Stone, M. Dupain, and Mme. Cheng.”

She stared at the lawyer as though uncomprehending.

“Of course, you could claim diplomatic immunity for your daughter, but it is likely she will at least be expelled from France, though France may choose to refer this matter to the Court of Justice of the European Union, as anti-terrorism laws extend beyond our borders.”

“Who are you?” Mme. Rossi finally demanded.

The lawyer smiled her best shark smile. “I am the head of M. Stone’s legal team, Maître Eulalie Reschignier.”

Adrien tried not to smile when he realized her name was almost a pun.

“My daughter has diplomatic immunity from all lawsuits, as I’m sure you are aware.”

The shark smile became a bit toothy. “We’re aware of that, but also aware that she can be expelled from France at the discretion of the French government.”

Whatever response Lila’s mother intended to give was interrupted by the arrival of Lieutenant Raincomprix and a retinue of other officers.

Nino stepped forward and played the video for the officers. Afterward, Roger approached the still-crying Alya to explain they’d have to take in her phone as evidence until the file could be processed. She just nodded, accepting the temporary loss; she hadn’t let go of Marinette yet.

Then he turned to Mme. Rossi. “We’ll have her injuries checked at the station, but it appears your daughter was attempting to voluntarily become an Akuma. While Akuma victims are never prosecuted, this is a very different issue.”

Mme. Rossi balked. “My daughter has diplomatic immunity!”

“We’re aware,” Officer Raincomprix said with a nod. “Since she has diplomatic immunity, she’ll be moved to a facility outside of Paris pending her likely expulsion back to Italy. Since she attempted to aid and abet a terrorist, your home country will decide whether to waive her diplomatic immunity, but regardless she is too dangerous to keep in Paris.”

That silenced Mme. Rossi, as she realized the limits of the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations.

Several officers helped Lila off the ground and led her down the stairs toward the school entrance, followed closely by Mme. Rossi.

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief at their exit. He doubted they’d ever have to deal with Lila again—at least not in person. And he was willing to bet Italy would take a long hard look at her. Meeting Marinette’s eyes, he could see she was having similar balming thoughts; it’d take them all a while to heal from this—especially if the tears still streaming down Alya’s cheeks and the guilt in her eyes were any indication—but they’d move past this somehow, and hopefully their relationships would all be strengthened.

M. Damocles cleared his throat. “Are we finished here?”

Jagged’s smile was almost malicious. “I don’t think so. Eulalie?”

Maître Reschignier turned to the principal. “It seems Mlle. Rossi’s removal from class will no longer be necessary. Instead, we seek anti-bullying and anti-harassment training for all school personnel in addition to the investigation into the treatment of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien couldn’t help but notice the elated smile that graced Mme. Mendeleiev’s face briefly, taking years off her appearance, before disappearing under her usual scowl. She, at least, was clearly not opposed to any of that. Mme. Bustier, however, looked displeased—and given that she’d rolled over multiple times to enable both Chloé and Lila, he wasn’t surprised.

The lawyer smiled, this time sincerely, at Adrien and Marinette. “I believe M. Agreste and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng would be best served returning to their class while M. Stone, Mme. Rolling, M. Dupain, and Mme. Cheng iron out the specifics with you in your office, M. Damocles.”

“Ah… Of course, Maître Reschignier.” The principal pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his brow. “That seems best.”

Mme. Bustier gestured to enter the classroom. As Adrien moved past the lawyer, she murmured, “I do hope your father will present more of a challenge, M. Agreste.”

He couldn’t hold in his laughter—oh, Adrien hoped she wrecked Gabriel Agreste.

And that he had a front-row seat when she did. And maybe some popcorn.

[unremarkable-house]

Polaris by unremarkable_house

The X-Files, MSR, Rain King

Mulder and Scully attend Holman and Sheila's wedding in Kroner, Kansas.

Tagging @today-in-fic

Part One: Mulder and Holman

“Platonic intimacy is the foundation of my relationship with Agent Scully, Holman, and risking physical intimacy affects both parties. I don’t want to take that risk unless we are both willing.” There is a condensation of intent that settles around the patio of the Kroner Prairie View Ballroom and Suites where Fox Mulder and Holman Hardt - weatherman, meteorologic anomaly, crack relationship analyst, and now very newlywed - share their conversation during a small break in the matrimonial festivities.

It is also something Mulder has never admitted out loud, his desire for something more, and he feels the uncomfortable humidity of it fill the blissfully mild Kansas air. Holman has made it vexingly clear that he expects him to dish on the so-called Mulder-and-Scully-relationship while the blushing bride and redheaded FBI agent were otherwise occupied. Apparently, he and his buddy the weather wizard had a special affinity for these kinds of chats.

“Are you really worried that you wouldn’t be compatible in bed with someone who looks like your partner?” Holman is projecting a bit of his newfound sexual confidence with Sheila, but he doubts he’d have any trouble if Agent Scully came to bed instead. Or both. Holman’s eyebrow quirks appreciatively.

Mulder is not worried about his level of attraction to his long-suffering and comely partner, he does get to look at her every day after all, but he is worried that the weight of their traumas could make the next level of intimacy challenging. He didn’t need a degree in psychology from Oxford to figure that out, he need look no further than his own baffling sexual history. Plus, he knows how much energy she puts into maintaining their professional distance, especially since Antarctica. And Diana. As always, part of how he shows her he cares is by respecting that.

“There is something to be said about the fact that it’s been six years and no one has even mentioned sex. With each other or otherwise. Maybe she’s just not that into me.” He shrugs, also thinking that really isn’t the case. Although it had been not-so-helpfully suggested by a Gunman or two before. As if any of them had any real experience with women outside of chat rooms and computer labs.

Because Scully hasn’t left him either. Hasn’t ever expressed an interest in a life outside the X-Files. Hasn’t ever, ever let him down. She stands entirely too close to him on elevators and drinks from his coffee cup when she’s in a rush. She waits up for him in the middle of the night, she lets him watch her sleep. She rises like the Phoenix time and time again. She touches the stars and toils in the basement. And she kissed him on Tuesday.

Though she would be seriously perturbed if she heard him acknowledge any of that out loud. Especially that last part.

But he was allowed to acknowledge it, right? He had to, or else they were never going to get past this bizarre phase where their relationship was even a secret to themselves. Will they or won’t they? Are they or aren’t they? Damned if he knew.

They didn’t even have the X-Files anymore. The entire pretext for their relationship hovered over the razor’s edge, completely unprepared for Salt Lake Cities and Diana Fowleys and meaningless days spent tracking down literal piles of shit. He made it clear he wasn’t ready to handle anything personal and then they RSVP’d to a wedding together.

Polaris or utter chaos. Scully had once called him unfathomably capricious.

“Yea, but don’t you want to just take her in your arms and kiss her?”

Holman’s aggressively simple advice is reflective of a man who got everything he wanted. Easy words from someone who finally found safe harbor.

Three months ago, he was offering Holman dating advice. Now Holman was freshly married and all Mulder’s gotten were a few chaste kisses he wasn’t supposed to think about. Cosmic justice or just complete fucking irony?

Sighing, Mulder looks back through the windows where Holman and Sheila’s wedding reception is just getting into full swing. Dazzling lights, disco balls, even a few novelty lasers spin dizzily over the guests as they start feeling the liquor and therefore, the groove. Scully is in there somewhere and his eyes scan for her instinctively, but he doesn’t see her red hair in the crowd. She must still be in the bathroom or surely she would come to find him out here, right? Mulder couldn’t believe the amount of insecurity he had been feeling since she came out in that dress and asked him to help her zip up the back. He needed a drink, big time.

“It’s not just about kissing her -” Above them, the full moon is in dazzling brilliance. Not a cloud in the sky, not a hint of chill in the breeze, downright perfect humidity. On Holman Hardt’s wedding day at the end of April. Figures. “I don’t sit around and pine for Scully the way you did for Sheila. We are in a relationship, have been for years, I guess. We are not just partners, I know that. And not just friends. But it’s about being with her all the time - forever - I think. I want to keep that possibility alive.”

At whatever the cost, he doesn’t add, an onslaught of near-misses hurtling past them like a vengeful comet wrought by some dissatisfied god. The weight of the knowledge that he would follow her anywhere - and she, him - whether they liked it or not. Something that was beyond what a ring or social status could ever symbolize, objectively speaking.

It was as simple as wanting Scully like air to breathe, simple as obeying the laws of gravity. A purely biological necessity. No need to complicate things. And no need to scare her off by being as lousy a lover as he was a friend. If all she ever needed from him were chaste yet unforgettable kisses, he would be honored to provide. Ad infinitum, if that’s what it took to keep her in orbit. No need to define the bonds that connect them. Just the need to stay connected.

A light in the sky from which he could chart his course.

Mulder looked hungrily back into the pulsating throng behind him, seeking his personal universal invariant. As much as he wanted her to return so he could end this candid and hyper-intimate conversation, he especially did not want her to overhear how pathetically punch-drunk he was after just the smallest morsels of her affection. He was supposed to remain coolly and Mulder-ish-ly aloof. It was part of their unspoken agreement for partaking on this exclusive jaunt they had both surreptitiously cashed in their vacation days for.

“I’ve kissed her a couple of times, though.” Except for that, of course. Holman gives him a high five. Then he says in the wistful way he’s been saying everything tonight:

“You know, I’ve been in love with Sheila since I was in high school; I was completely infatuated.” Mulder knows, but not really. Who could be in love with someone with a voice like that? Who consistently kicked you under the rug to date the people you detested the most? To him, the sexiest thing about Scully was that she willingly spent time with him. That and she smelled like a secret garden and her skin was as soft as a petal. His own luscious Atropa belladonna; look but don’t touch. It was a fitting match considering his life was rotely defined by his personal, unattainable longings.

“I think it's different, Holman. I love Agent Scully--” more of that condensation settles. “I have for a long time. As a friend first. But I'm not lovesick. I'm not…” he trails off because to say he’s not also in love with Scully isn't the whole truth. But it’s not the same. “I'm still working on being in love with her in a way that is most fair for her. For us.” He looks up into the starry night and grips the edge of the stone wall that he is perched on. “I tend to be a bit overbearing and unpredictable.”

And incomprehensible and dog-headed and nebulous and borderline unreliable - but he’s not really interested in listing all the ways he’s failed Scully or why he knows he’s badbadbad for her. The reasons why she shouldn’t be wearing a short navy blue dress at a private and completely voluntary event with him tonight. Why he should have done the gentlemanly thing years ago and convinced her to get out and save her reputation, to save herself from a lifetime of pain. Should have resisted the tender, irresistible way she always pulled him back to her. Should not have RSVP'd to this damn wedding, at least.

Instead, he spirited her away from the world living into the world of the half-dead and always searching.

Then again he’d probably be dead ten times over, considering the numerous occasions she’d saved his ass over the years. But life without Scully would be a fate worse than death.

He’s seeding the rain cloud, he knows. These are the kinds of words phrased in such a way that he’s been avoiding admitting - let alone thinking - for years. It’s admissions like these to people like Holman that will force him to pay the piper. He envisions Holman and Sheila forcing them to slow dance beneath the dizzy lights to Fools Rush In. He’d prefer a Whiter Shade of Pale, himself. Something a bit more subtle.

“Loving someone isn’t about being fair, Agent Mulder. My life has basically been at a standstill until I finally got my chance to be with Sheila. I wasn’t willing to move forward with any decision in my life if it meant missing a chance I might have with her. I accepted a job in the same town I grew up in, for Chrissake, because she was here! And yes, there were times when I resented the fact that she refused to see me as more than a friend and instead chased after the people I liked the least.

I have a few buddies from high school who got pretty sick of my laments for a woman - who you will probably agree - is completely out of my league.” Mulder resists reacting, different strokes and all. “The fairest route would have been to save myself the drama of Sheila’s many romantic interludes and settle down with someone else - you might not know it but I’m quite the catch in a small town like this - but I was determined to wait until it was my turn. Now those same guys from high school are here dancing at our wedding!

Look at me! I’m married to the most beautiful woman in Kroner! In all of Kansas, probably! And we are already talking about starting our family right away!”

Holman, glowing with pride like the light of the moon with his arms outstretched, has a nostalgic, faraway look on his face, back to his days as the awkward teen in love with the prom queen. Indeed, Holman had received his just rewards for patience, diligence, and the honor of a respectable life.

Scully is his reward too, Mulder knows. Has always known, since the day she walked back into his basement office after spending thirty-six hours hiding in the rain forests of Puerto Rico with no food or water and scared to death that the kill squads were going to find them and use extreme force. He was constantly falling in love with the versions of herself that she shed with each tragedy - always a moment too late. Always under her sharp and disapproving eye. She wore her newfound vulnerabilities with a sign that read: “Danger, Stay Back”. That she refused to be worshipped just made her easier to love. He’d had no clue dignity was such a turn on.

Mulder was just worried he hadn't paid his dues with such noble qualities as Holman’s. His many wrongdoings play with a sad soundtrack in his head, as sad as the desperate way she always looks at him when they’ve cheated death yet again. She had been particularly unzipped by his recent near-drowning and nick-of-time rescue in the Plantagenet Bay. The Gunmen published it in their quarterly and referred to Scully as the Babe of the Bermuda Triangle. He still felt kinda bad about that one.

Was it just Mulder or was the moon shining a little more brightly right now?

“One of the best days of my life was when Sheila started working at the station.” Holman gets another dreamy look upon his face as he recalls the day. Mulder remembers too, it was chronicled in the local paper. That and a portfolio of other newsworthy weather events Holman was responsible for sat neatly collated within his X-Files. And now including their invitation to the blessed Hardt-Fontaine nuptials. It wasn’t every day he got to hang out with one of the curiosities from his wonder cabinet.

Unless he counted Scully which he explicitly and vociferously did not.

“May 11, 1992: residents of Kroner, Kansas, report witnessing a rare quadruple rainbow,” He recites.

Mulder has a similar best day of his life, but he doesn’t recall any meteorological event that marked the moment. It wasn’t even a full moon. Just a regular March afternoon that he had been antipathetic about.

Holman grins. “Some reported seeing a fifth arc as well, but it was never substantiated.” Then his face grows cloudy. “That same day, while we were catching up, was when she told me she was moving in with Darryl Moody and that they were ‘engaged to be engaged.’” He spits the last words out like venom. And that would explain the subsequent supercell lightning storm that knocked Kroner off the grid for three days (also in his files).

“She just wanted to be friends,” he bemoans before becoming annoyingly cheerful again, “but being her friend was the next best thing because here we are! Sheila recently told me that the best relationships are rooted in friendship so if that’s what it took to get here, I wouldn’t change a day.”

Mulder, dipping his chin to his chest, was appalled he found that so pathetically endearing. And a little bit wounding. Were he and Scully not rooted in friendship? For someone who was so quick to believe, he knew he was certainly wanting for a little more faith in the matter. Because here we are, he thinks, together, in other lifetimes, always.

In this particular lifetime in Kansas, there might be drinks and dancing and more than one excuse to touch her companionably and then maybe a little more familiarly, as soon as she finished up inside and he could end this awkward conversation with the groom.

“Don’t let some bad luck cramp your style, Agent Mulder,” Holman says, reaching the end of his proselytizing. “The future will be as bright as you make it.”

Following Holman’s gaze up into the night sky, Mulder finds that the heavens are now alight with the ethereal trails of meteors, dainty and otherworldly, glittering their way across the universe.

Mulder sighs again, equally entranced by and indifferent to Holman’s bizarre skills. “Easy for you to say, Holman.” But Holman just laughs the contented and mirthful laugh of a man in love. To him, everything is limitless: life, love, the weather, and now the entire galaxy.

And though there was once a time where Mulder would have imprudently coveted the ability to touch the unthinkable like Holman Hardt, tonight he is content to reach only one star.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564760

Notes:

WIP, I hope. There should be a chapter for Scully + Sheila and another for Mulder + Scully. Fingers crossed! Mad love to my favorite fanfiction of all time, Parabiosis by Penumbra. This story includes some loving references to that masterpiece. Made with the utmost respect. Thanks for reading.

[queentargary3n]

unfaithful

Summary: Sakura is surprised to see Sasuke is the senior associate of the firm she is supposed to start working for. All of her feelings start to come back 10 years after he abandoned her. Sasuke finds out somethings are truly never behind you, and when he starts falling back in love with her, his past comes to hunt him. Her biggest issue? He is already married

Sasusaku Fanfic AU Lawyers. M

Chapter 4

Sakura knew she shouldn’t have done that. She had punched the lights off the senior attorney of the firm she’d just being hired at. She drove herself home in a trance, completely absorbed in her thoughts. In retrospective, there were many things that she should have maybe done differently, starting with maybe listing Sasuke as a conflict of interest on the NDA human resources made her sign. That could possibly bring her some problems, but it seemed like he was pretending not to know her, and she knew exactly the kind of ex she didn’t want to be.

Damn... and I was so lucky to get hired too. Naruto probably had to pull some strings to get me here. My god! Naruto! What if he tells him! How can I face him now… and what if Sasuke files an assault suit against me!? I could probably hit him back a harassment suit, whatever I’m probably fired, but I mean! The things he said. She thought.

Her mind was going over and over all the possible scenarios her momentary lapse of judgment might have caused. She didn’t even notice, until she got home, that her hand hurt like a mother. It had been such a long time since she had to punch someone, and this was definably going to leave a bruise on her knuckles.

Her phone buzzed in her purse with a text message that read:

Sakura-chan family dinner tomorrow 8pm u in? – Naruto

And she probably shouldn’t. She had already been accused of inappropriate behavior by Sasuke. But she wasn’t about to change how she was with her friend because of some evil-minded jerk. So, before she could give it much thought, she replied:

Sure, I’m in. Can’t wait to meet the baby.

♦

Naruto went into the firm the next day, slightly earlier than normal, and spotted Sasuke laying on the couch of his unusually dark office.

“Hey Teme! Good job on the case! I hear the prosecution is asking for a settlement now… eh? The fuck happened to your face?” he noticed Sasuke’s incredibly swollen cheek with a dark bruise starting to settle under his left eye.  “Mmm… you’re not getting involved with those people again… are you?” he asked while turning on the light switch to seem him better.

“Tch headache! Turn it off!” Sasuke said.

“Did you sleep here? What happened?”

“Why did you hire her?” Sasuke asked, ignoring the previous question. He moved to a seated position still resting his head on the back of the couch.

“Hire who? Sakura-chan? We were best friends in college! She is awesome, isn’t she? I heard she kicked ass in yesterday’s trial!”

“You never mentioned her…”

“Yeah, bit of a sore subject” Said the blond, moving his arm to scratch the back of his head. “I was young and sort of in love with her, she rejected me. She was the one that got me and Hinata together ya know? So, it worked out for the best, but we lost touch after graduation”

“Hn… I thought she just graduated this year, so then you rekindled your relationship behind your wife’s back, asshole”

“What the fuck!” Naruto seriously wanted to punch him for saying things like that, but he controlled himself, noticing the already injured man.

“Are you not? Why did you assign her to my top case? And you’re always touching her and stuff…” Sasuke had to admit, his reasoning sounded weak and silly once he’d voiced it.

“Cuz she is my friend and a medical doctor you idiot! I thought her medical knowledge would be helpful in such a public case like this”

“She’s a doctor?” Sasuke asked in a more relaxed tone. He brought his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the headache that was worsening by the second.

“Yeah, graduated early and everything, I don’t know why but a few years ago she went back to grad school to study law, but the knowledge is there ya know?”

“And you’re not sleeping together…” the raven-haired man muttered weakly.

“No!” Naruto yelled. “You know I love my wife! Wait… you didn’t tell Sakura-chan that did ya?!” Naruto asked, completely amazed at his friend’s stupidity.

“Ah.” Sasuke answered in confirmation.

“Well that explains the damage” Naruto had the nerve to laugh at him. “Sakura-chan can be really scary as I remember” he shook his head, then rested his hands behind his head. “Ne Teme, you owe Sakura-chan an apology” He completed in a serious tone.

“Ah” and Sasuke knew he did, whatever the case was, he knew he had no right calling her out like that, but in the field of apologizing Sasuke was truly lost. “I’ll figure something out”

“Yeah maybe you can figure something out before family dinner tonight! She’s coming, you guys should too” Naruto said, back to his cheerful self, and gave him a small nudge of encouragement. “Go home for now, I’m sure Sakura-chan can handle the rest of the negotiations”

And for once Sasuke did as he was told. He went back to his apartment, since his headache did not seem to be going away anytime soon. He unlocked the door and walked in, expecting to find the apartment empty.

Karin walked out of the bedroom as soon as he opened the door. “Sasuke? What…” she said confused as to why he’d be home at such hours but noticed his face. “What happened?! Are you okay? Oh my god Sasuke does it hurt!?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it” He answered, it was for this same reason he didn’t come home before, Karin tended to make a bigger deal of things than they required, it hadn’t occur to him that the bruise might look worse the next day.

“Tell me what happened! Did Orochimaru…” Karin said, trying to hold back her accumulating tears.

“No” Sasuke replied then sighed. “I… walked into a door” he offered.

Karin gave him an unconvinced looked, and said “Sasuke…”

“I’m fine, really” He said patting her head gently. “I’m just going to rest for a while”

His affectionate actions made her smile. She couldn’t really remember the last time they had contact, and it moved her causing a small flush to spread on her cheeks, before her expression changed into something Sasuke couldn’t make out, confusion, concern, guilt maybe, but he couldn’t dwell on it, since his headache was killing him by that point.

Whatever she seemed to have remembered, made her shake her head to compose herself, she readjusted her glasses and said “I gotta go to the office Sasuke, but I do really…”

“I know you do” He answered before she could finish her sentence. Because whatever was happening between the two, Sasuke knew she cared for him, as he did to her.

Sasuke waited for her to leave and close the door, before walking into the bedroom, his ailment did warrant the use of a bed, so he laid face down into the large bed at the center of the bedroom, he touched the familiar soft sheets they had chosen months before, then wrapped his hand under a pillow to get comfortable.

There, he felt something underneath, then pulled it out to inspect it, and saw a small plastic square turn up.

A condom wrapper.

♦

Family dinner was a regular even at the Uzumaki household. A tradition Naruto kept even after his parents passed. For some time, family dinners consisted only of himself and his godfather, but as an adult, Naruto came to consider a myriad of people family members, and so Friday nights were usually spent, drinking and dinning in the rotating company of whoever was available at that time. This particular dinner’s guest list included Shikamaru and his wife, Sasuke and his wife, if she wanted to show up which she usually didn’t, and Sakura.

“I’m worried about Sakura” said his wife, as she was preparing the food for her soon to be incoming guests, while her husband held their baby. “I don’t want her to feel like the odd one out between a bunch of married couples”

“Don’t worry! She won’t” said Naruto. “It’s not like we’re all going to be talking to our spouses, ignoring the rest of ‘em”

“Still, maybe we should’ve invited someone else. I might be able to talk Neji-niisan into coming last minute, maybe set them up!” Hinata chirped.

“You know Neji doesn’t like you meddling into his ‘love’ life like that” He responded, placing a gently hand on the small of his wife’s back.

“I know, but wouldn’t they look cute together?”  

“Nah I don’t know about that…” Naruto answered, even if his romantic feelings for Sakura were long gone, she always held a soft spot in his heart, and he would always feel protective about her.

“I think someone is here, can you get the door? I’m pretty much done here” Hinata said, a few seconds before there was an actual know on their door.

“Really Hina, I don’t know how you do that…”

Naruto opened the door, to find Sasuke standing outside, his black eye even more prominent than the last time he saw him.

“Tss teme she got you good!” the blond mentioned, as he motioned for his friend to come in. He had been the victim of a few punches by Sakura himself, but he never spotted a black eye like that. “What did you say to her? She must have been pretty angry if she hit you right in the face.”

Sasuke sighed, he almost didn’t show up. He hadn’t figured out what he would say to her. “I sort of… called her a whore…” he muttered, looking down to avoid looking embarrassed.

“Bastard… you really had it coming, you’re lucky I’m holding the baby, or I’d make the other eye match” Naruto threaten.

“How’s he doing by the way” Sasuke said, grabbing the baby’s hand and toying with it, partially trying to change the subject.

“Oh, he’s great, he sleeps through the night now and everything” Naruto answered.

They sat down at the dinner table, with Naruto going on and on about baby Boruto, and how he smiled all the time, and was pretty smart for a 6-month-old baby, and how the transition to food was going smoothly. It wasn’t until 15 minutes into the conversation he noticed Sasuke came alone. “Your wife’s not here?” He asked.

“No, she had to go out or something” Sasuke replied, briefly considering telling Naruto about the condom wrapper he found in their bed. But he decided not to, Naruto’s family dinner was hardly the place to talk about something like that.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Shikamaru and his wife. Temari, whose name Sasuke always manage to forget for some reason, announced her newly found pregnancy, which engrossed the group in a conversation of parenthood, pregnancy cravings, baby must haves, while Sasuke mostly stayed silent. He held his arms out to borrow baby Boruto from his very talkative father and bounced him up and down from his lap much to the infant’s amusement.

“And you, Sasuke? Have you and Karin thought about having one of your own?” Temari asked him.

Sasuke always imagined himself having a big family of his own, he liked children. But the concept of family seemed to be getting further and further away from him the older he got.  The subject had not even come out with the woman who was now his wife. He always imagined someone else as the mother of his children, it was a goal he had set on his mind: do what he had to do about Orochimaru, his brother, leaving the outlaw world,  then go back to the girl who hunted his dreams since he was a teenager. But that was years ago and leaving left consequences he couldn’t have predicted. So, he buried that thought, underneath responsibilities and duties he had to uphold, and continued to live for years without thinking about the hypothetical cute children with dark hair and green eyes.

“I don’t think Karin w…” he almost responded to the group, interrupted by a knock on the door and the entrance of none other than Sakura, wide eyed and blushing, she seemed surprised he was even there, as she held a bottle of wine and brown gift bag close to her chest.

“Sorry no one answered the door, so I just came in, hope that’s okay” She said, addressing everyone in the dining room, but avoiding Sasuke’s eyes.

“Sure thing! Sakura-chan I’m glad you made it!” Naruto said, standing up and hugging the pinkette.

“Sakura-chan! It’s so good to see you, how long has it been!?” Hinata chirped in higher voice than any of her guest had ever made her do, and wrapped her arms around Sakura and her husband, the three of them locked in an awkward three person embrace.

“Hinata! Too long! You look lovely, motherhood suits you!” Sakura answered, disentangling herself from the hug. “Now where is that cute baby of yours!?”

Naruto scratched his face and turn to look at Sasuke, who was still holding the baby. The sight was endearing for her she had to admit. Sasuke looked down and held the baby in front of his face in offering, still unable to meet her eyes.

Naruto grabbed his son instead and brought him to Sakura’s arms. “This is Boruto” he introduced.

“Naruto! Aw he looks just like you! He is so adorable!” She pressed the baby’s face to her own. “Who knew you had it in you to make something so cute!!”

“Nah, he has my eyes and hair, but the rest is all Hinata ya know?”

“I’m so happy for you two!” Sakura said, wiping a small tear from her eye.

“I’m going to put him down to sleep” Said Hinata, taking her baby back into her arms. “It’s a little late for this little guy, we were waiting so you could meet”

“Sorry I was late, bye Boruto”

“I’m so proud of you, you know? You always wanted a family, and now you have one, it’s just so…” She was unable to continue, if she did, there would have been no stop to her crying, so she composed herself.

“I know Sakura-chan” Naruto answered.

Sasuke thought he couldn’t have been more wrong, after witnessing the whole interaction. It was obvious that they all had some very deep connection, but it was so far from what he had suspected he couldn’t help to feel embarrassed again. Why his mind went for the most impure explanation, he didn’t know.

And so, after introductions, dinner continued without his interference. Old friends catching up, and new acquaintances presented. They continued with drinks after the meal, and after a few glasses, Sasuke stood up and walked to the door.

“Are you leaving Sasuke, you haven’t said anything all night!” Naruto complained.

“No, I’m just going out for a smoke” He responded. He needed some air to clear his thoughts. So many things needed to be fix happened in only a few days, but the only thing he could seem to think of was Sakura. It’s so fucked up. He thought.

His train of thought was interrupted by the appearance of said girl behind him. “Smoking kills you know?” She said to him.

“Ah” he answered in confirmation and took another drag from his cigarette, before putting it down and stepping on it. Sasuke moved to face Sakura, he tried to organize a coherent sentence to word his apology, but she was too distracting. Her red crop top, and high wasted jeans showed a small portion of her waist he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel under his touch. He ran his hand through his inky locks in exasperation.

“Listen Sasuke… I’m sorry” She said unexpectedly.

“YOU’RE sorry?” he asked. He looked at her, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Yeah… I shouldn’t have punch you like that; it looks bad. I’m terribly sorry” she bowed a little as she continued. He didn’t even know what to say.

Sakura pulled a small container from a brown bag she was carrying and asked, “May I?”

He questioned her with his eyes. “It’s a pomade I made, it good against bruising, and it has a cooling effect to help with the pain”

He nodded his head yes, so she moved to coat her finger in the ointment and apply it gently to his face. He was, for once, glad because of the bruising, since the heat he felt on his face could only mean he was blushing madly. His heart threatening to beat out of his chest.

“Thank you.” The black-haired man said when she was finished. It felt so good to have her hands on him, he almost complained when she removed her touch. “You don’t have to apologize, it was my fault, I had no right calling you that”

“You’re right” She conceded. “But I’m sorry anyway, it was no excuse to hit you, violence is never the answer”

“Never?” He laughed at that. He could of at several situations where violence is the only answer, and he was sure Naruto would agree. But he didn’t voice his thoughts.

“I still deserved it though”

“Damn right you did” she agreed.  

“I’m sorry” He said. “and I shouldn’t have acted like I didn’t know you either, I just… didn’t know… what to say”

“It’s okay Sasuke-kun… it was a long time ago” The endearing suffix, made him smile, and brought his scrambling thoughts back together. It reminded him of simpler times, when he could act on his feelings.

And right then, he finally figured out, why he’d been so angry at Naruto’s displays of affection towards the pink haired girl. Sasuke knew he was jealous.

______________

Thank you so much for reading this if you still are, smut and infidelity are coming soon I promise. Tell me what you think, constructive criticism is always appreciated. 

[australiancarisi]

Rafael Barba ~ Just Some...

Sometimes Rafael gets insecure and when he does he speaks his mind words: 2178 This has literally been sitting in my drafts half-finished since march oops

“Why hello Mr ADA to what do I owe the pleasure so bright and early?” You smiled up at Rafael from your desk. It had just gone 10, rarely did Rafael come to the precinct before noon. It had been a few days since you had seen Rafael, he had been in court and the squad had recently had an influx of cases. You looked your boyfriend up and down, god he looked good today. He always looks good but today.... extra good.

“Looking for Liv” Rafael mumbled before looking around at the empty precinct “where is everyone?”

“Fin and Nick have gone to the victim's old high school, Dodds and Carisi are getting all the doctor's examination details and Liv and Rollins... I think talking to the vic’s family but I’m not too sure” you shrugged

“Why are you here then?” he asked. You frowned for a second taking your boyfriend in. He was acting strange. The normally cocky Cuban, who, when given an empty precinct, would normally jump at the chance to flirt and kiss you at work, just stood against Carisi’s desk with his hands in his pockets looking anything but cocky.

“Paperwork” you said holding up the files “I’m too far behind apparently” you rolled your eyes “you okay?”

“Yeah fine” Rafael shrugged “get Liv to call me when she in”

“Will do” you frowned as Rafael turned on his heels and walked away. In the nearly 3 years that you had been dating Rafael that was not how he acted with you, not even in the first year of you guys dating when you were still hiding it from everyone.

You and Rafael started dating just under a year after you joined SVU. You came from major crimes after SVU had a high profile case that you had helped them on. They were understaffed at the time so Liv asked your lieutenant if you could help out more. After a month of working with SVU, you knew it was where you belong. You fit in well with the team despite being a relatively young detective, you liked that you were able to help people and make a difference. It felt like you belonged there. Everything was great, except for one thing. You and Rafael did not get along. He saw things clearly in black and white whereas you saw grey. You bent the rules, so much so that they would nearly snap in half Rafael would say, and he didn’t like that. The two of you would fight and argue like cats and dogs. It wasn’t until you were put on his detail after he revealed that he was getting death threats did the two of you start to feel sparks.

You and Sonny were given the night shift after Rafael gave a guy his home address on the steps of the courthouse that day.

“I mean seriously who does that?” You grumbled as you heard Rafael get in the shower “I don’t want to be here!”

“Suck it up doll face” Sonny grinned at you

“I had leftover Thai food in my fridge! I’ve been looking forward to it all day!” You huffed like a child “if he wants to be stupid enough to give out his address that’s on him”

“Come on y/n we can’t just let him get murdered. Who else would put up with your crazy ideas?” Sonny laughed taking a seat on the couch.

“Put up with? Your kidding right? He shuts down all my ideas”

“That’s because they are usually nearly illegal”

“Exactly nearly illegal not actually illegal” Sonny was about to reply when his phone rang. You got comfy on the couch as he walked away to answer.

“I’ve gotta go” Sonny said grabbing the suit jacket that he had hung over the back of one of the chairs when he had walked in.

“Everything okay?” You frowned

“It’s Bella. She fell down some stairs and hit her heard. Knocked herself out” Sonny said

“Oh my god, Sonny go” you said basically pushing him out the door

“Are you going to be okay on your own?” Sonny asked

“We’ll be fine and at the first sign of trouble I'll call for back up I promise”

“Okay... I’ll let you know what happens” Sonny said before racing out the door. When the door closed behind him you took a moment to look around the apartment. It was just how you expected it to look. Not that you ever pictured Rafael’s apartment... it was relatively big for a New York apartment, open and airy with dark wood floors and bookcase upon bookcases. You moved around the apartment to have a closer look at things. The place really looked like a display home. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. There wasn’t any real sign of living besides the files Rafael had out of the table when he walked in and the single photo of him and who you assumed were his mother and grandmother. They all had the same eyes. You kept looking around Rafael’s apartment. You pulled out a law book and started flicking through it.

“I’m pretty sure being a part of my protective detail isn’t to look through my stuff” you jumped at Rafael’s voice.

You spent the night at Barba’s, despite the constant complaining from him. It took the squad about a week to find and arrest the people threatening Barba. Catching them, however, didn’t stop you from telling Barba what an idiot he was in the first place. The two of you bickered back and forth for months until it built up and burst when Barba cupped your face and kissed you late one night in his office while you were arguing about a case. That kiss led to taking him back to your place.

After a couple months of fooling around together, the two of you decided to actually pursue a relationship. It was actually after Rafael got jealous after a case. He and the squad went out to a bar to celebrate. You’re young, the youngest on the squad and there were a lot of people throwing themselves at you. Rafael was not happy with that. You disclosed 2 months after officially getting together after Nick accidentally walked in on the two of you in Rafael’s office.

Over a couple of hours, everyone had made their way back to the precinct. You’d finally caught up on enough paperwork to be able to get in on the current case. You tired texting Rafael throughout the day but got no response. Which was weird. Rafael always responded to your messages no matter who he was with unless he was in court but you knew he wasn’t. The squad were sitting around throwing out theories and evidence on the case, which unfortunately wasn’t much at all.

“So basically what you are saying is we have nothing” Fin sighed “We need a warrant to search the teacher's house”

“Barba is not going to get us a warrant based on this” Sonny said pointing to the whiteboard

“Not us but maybe....” Amanda trailed off as she turned her attention to you

“Normally I would agree but not today” you frowned at your phone, still no response

“What have you done this time?” Mike smirked as you grabbed a nearby piece of paper and threw it at him

“Nothing! He was here earlier looking for Liv. Did you talk to him?” You asked

“He wanted to go over some motions the defence in the Merlot case were filing” Liv said

“Did he seem normal to you?”

“As normal as Barba can be” Nick laughed earning high fives from Amanda and Mike, two which you threw paper at them as well. Liv shrugged and the conversation went back to the case at hand.

After another couple of hours and you finally had enough evidence to get a warrant. Mike threw the file down on your table. 

“Why me?” You asked 

“Just to make sure we actually get the warrant, get the warrant and then you can clock off for the day” Mike smirked “No funny business while you’re still on the clock” 

“Seriously how are you a Sargent?” You rolled your eyes before picking up your phone “Hey Carmen... Need to come down and talk him into getting us a warrant just wanna check he’s free...huh...no he didn’t...okay thanks” 

“Everything good?” Sonny asked 

“Yeah all good” you smiled packing up your stuff and picking up the file “I’ll let you guys know if I can convince him to try and get us the warrant” 

You left the precinct and headed straight to Rafael’s place. The two of you spent most nights at either his place or yours, more often his because it was closer to both the courthouse and the precinct then yours and the fact that Rafael usually worked later than you. You’d have to go and pull him out of his office. 

But not tonight. 

Carmen informed you that Rafael had left the office an hour before you called. This wasn’t like Rafael. Leaving work early... Not responding to messages... something was up. 

You quietly opened the door to Rafael’s apartment using the spare key Rafael had given you. Rafael was sitting in his armchair, scotch in hand. The apartment was eerily quiet. 

“Hey Raf” You said breaking the silence. He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at you. “Hey... Rafi... are you okay?” 

“Of course why wouldn’t I be?” Rafael asked taking a sip of his drink, still never looking at you. You sighed and threw your stuff down. 

“Rafael, what is going on?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I haven’t seen you outside of the courthouse or precinct in days and you are giving me nothing” you said “So I repeat what is going on?” 

“I saw you the other day on the steps of the courthouse” Rafael said after a moment of silence. You frowned trying to think back. “with that beat cop” 

“... Officer Jackson? the rookie? the new guy at our precinct?” You asked

“Your precinct” he corrected “and yes... you looked... cosy” 

“... Rafael... are you jealous? Seriously? of some kid?” You asked. Rafael had a jealous streak, it was the reason you got together because he couldn’t stand to see you with someone else. He was overprotective as well. He hated having to watch you go on stings and into interrogations with violent men or having to watch you flirt with them. 

“You say some kid as if you weren’t in his shoes not too long ago” Rafael mumbled. It was something that was joked about a bit between you and the squad, the fact that there was a bit of an age gap between you and Rafael. It never bothered you and Rafael though. 

“Rafi... really?” You asked him,. He just shrugged and took another sip of scotch. “So you saw me with another cop and now you’re being a moody teenager?” 

“He’s young, a cop. You were laughing...smiling...” Rafael sighed “I just don’t get it... Out of everyone you picked me and that surprises me cause I was alway last inline” 

“Not my line” you smiled

“That’s why I’m overprotective of you” Rafael said finally looking you in the eye placing the scotch on the coffee table next to him. “I have something... someone that I don’t deserve and I don’t want to lose it” 

“Rafi” you whispered. You slowly moved closer to him hoping that he would let you in. When he didn’t object you sat in his lap. You wrapped an arm around him, running your fingers through the back of his hair. 

“Sometimes it still hits me...” Rafael whispered “Like why me? Why does she want to spend the rest of her with me?” 

“Rafi, why wouldn’t I? You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy. A soul mate, a best friend. You are everything to me Rafi” You said “I love you Rafi, you and only you” 

“You deserve so much more than me”

“Why? Why do you think that?” 

“Because I’m just some fat Cuban kid from the Bronx. Who had a crappy dad, who couldn’t look after himself I always had to have Eddie or Alex fix my problems” 

“Just some... Rafael, you are a lawyer, not just any lawyer but a Harvard educated lawyer. You are a respected New York City ADA... You might not see how amazing you are but I do” 

“You deserve-” 

“I get to decide what I deserve” You cut him off “and I deserve you. I love you. I love you more than anything and no young rookie is gonna ever take me from you” 

“Thank you” Rafael sighed. You leant down and kissed him 

“Now a hot defence lawyer well....” you smirked at him causing him to laugh 

“I love you” Rafael kissed your hand that wasn’t in his hair. 

“Don’t forget it” you grinned at him “Now the actual reason I’m here we need a warrant for.......”

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [160]

(336):  Did you get good sleep? (832):  I dreamt that I was a lipstick lesbian in the 1950s, working at Walgreens and solving mysteries. (832):  So yes. -

“I take it you know Kallian, or is that being racist?” Herah asks.

“When it gets to the point where you're a person of elven descent in a position of high power, high visibility, or any kind of notoriety then you start to figure out who all the other elves in the same position as you are. At that point it’s no longer about the stereotype of all elves knowing or being related to each other and it’s more about a minority grouping together to hold hands and mutually suffer through the fact that they’re a minority,” Kallian says before Mahanon can answer. She narrows her eyes at the man. "That said, I am nearly entirely certain that I’ve represented you in court before."

“Lyna's my distant cousin on my mother’s side,” Mahaon replies. “Which is why I might seem familiar to you.”

Kallian wrinkles her nose. “Mahariel? Lyna Mahariel? The hippie?”

“Yes.”

“The one related to the Gray Warden? The dumb one with the kid?”

“The very same.”

Kallian narrows her eyes further. “Is your sister the lunatic?”

“Possibly, depending on who you think I am. Are you thinking about Neria or Ellana? They’re both slightly off kilter in separate ways.”

“Violent one.”

“That’s Neria Surana. The Lavellans are so distantly related we might as well not be. My sister is the one who’s off kilter in ways that make you realize how broken of a society we have because she gets away with it due to the copious amount of loopholes that seemingly exist just for her. Some would call her a manic pixie girl. Those same people would probably be attempting to charge her for assault except she gets away with it every time because of aforementioned reasons.”

“Fair enough.” Kalilan nods. “Have I represented you in court before?”

“I’ve never had any of my cases, prior to joining the Inquisition, get taken to court. You’re thinking of someone else.”

“This is absolutely riveting. Now that you’ve established that you two do not, in fact, know each other but know the same people, can we get down to business?”

Kallian flips her notebook open, clicking her pen and starts jotting some things down. “If you were related to the Surana I would’ve charged triple.”

“You probably should anyway,” Herah mutters.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Herah waves a hand. “Anyway, thank you for coming. For some reason you’re the only lawyer of note we could find in the entire district.”

Kallian smiles and it’s eerily reminiscent of a very, very satisfied wild cat. “All the other ones were weak. They quit as soon as I got my firm established in the area. Couldn’t handle the competition. They also couldn’t handle a woman who doesn’t need to wear a pant suit and a string of pearls to be taken seriously.”

“I think I’m starting to be fond of you,” Mahanon says, “You might be the first lawyer I’ve considered respecting enough to work with.”

Herah glares at Mahanon, “Don’t fuck this up. I meant it. Every other lawyer in this district is absolute shit garbage and if we have to work with them because you pissed off this one I will personally make sure that this trial ends badly out of spite. Fuck the consequences.”

“I’m starting to like you as a person,” Kallian says to Herah, “I would say do go on with this but I’ve gotten about four hours of sleep in the past day and a half and if I’m representing the Inquisition I don’t foresee getting myself much more than that any time soon. I want to get my associates working this case as fast as possible so I can try and head off whatever stupid tricks the opposing side wants to use.” Kallian’s eyes grow distant for a moment. “And when it’s over I’m going to do my best to lucid dream a continuation of my lipstick lesbian episode last night.”

“What?”

“Not important. Let’s start at the beginning.”

“How far back is the beginning for you?” Herah asks, “Because we’ve been working this case for a while. And let me tell you, it’s been one fuckin’ wild ride to get here. The only reason it’s being tried in this district court and not the original one is because the little weasel of a shit heel we’re trying to get charged has too many people in inconvenient places.”

“I can work around that. I don’t lose cases. If I’m on a case it’s mine.” Kallian flips open one of the files Herah had prepared for her.

“Has anyone ever told you that maybe you should’ve been a PI?” Herah asks. “Or a bounty hunter?’

Kallian grunts, “I tell myself that daily. I dream about it, sometimes. Maybe I was in a past life. But if there’s something harder than being a respected and feared lawyer of elven descent in this country it’s establishing your own private eye business, or getting respect as an independent contractor. I’m working my way up in my own way.”

“If you ever get tired of the whole lawyer thing I think you’d have a place in the Inquisition.”

“Recruitment?” Mahanon asks Herah, “Now? Really, Adaar?”

“I’ve got an eye for talent, Lavellan, and you’ve got an eye for trouble. Stick to what you know. I’d regret it forever if I let this chance slip.”

Kallian’s lips twitch upwards. “I’ll think about it. Maybe after I’ve done enough time in court that I feel like the law school fees were worth it. In the mean time, I’ve got to justify the thousands I’ve dropped on my fancy degree. So. Let’s do that now. Should we start with going over the specific reason why the defense wants to say that this is a set up and that the entire thing was rigged due to — “ Kallian pauses, eyebrows raising, “Racial prejudice against humans. Oh. I’m going to enjoy this case like a fuckin’ rare steak. Let’s get cracking.”

[maxineswritingcenter]

Class Reunion -Sam x fem!Reader

Gotta give my boy Sammy some love.

Summary: Sam and Dean hit up a case in a town they lived in for Sam's senior year of high school. While on a supply run, Sam runs into reader who he dated that year. Reader invites him to the class reunion. Sam is hesitant but the case leads to the reunion. SPARKS FLY BITCHES

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

It was the same old same old in the bunker. Nothing huge or apocalyptic was going on for the moment. But the cases seemed to be slim pickings. Sam was searching the world wide web for something, anything. Just as he was about to close the laptop and take a well deserved nap, a notification popped up. From the other side of the world map table, Dean looked up from his magazine and raised his eyebrows.

"I'm gonna assume that sound means a lead. Or something." He said and dropped the magazine on the table.

Sam narrowed his eyes as he read.

"What?" Dean asked as he came around to look over his brother's shoulder.

"So there have been reports of people being murdered in their homes. But there are no fingerprints, DNA or anything left at the scene. Just like the killer walked in and then vanished." Sam said as he scrolled through the news article.

"Sounds like it could be our type of case. Where's it at?" Dean asked.

Sam scrolled to the top of the screen, "Ojai, California." He chuckled at the name.

"Isn't that where you had your senior year and then dipped on me and dad?" Dean stood up straight. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I didn't dip. Dad told me if I left to not come back. So I didn't." He looked at his brother and shook his head.

"You know he didn't mean that." Dean tried to excuse him. But Dean wasn't even sure if he 100% believed that himself.

"Yeah. Whatever." He scrolled some more on the local news for the town then stopped, "No way." He shook his head.

"What is it?" Dean asked, the topic of their father temporarily forgotten.

"The reunion is this week. It's all over the town's local news. The murders are like a needle in a haystack." Sam said, trying to dig for more info on it.

"Well, pack your stuff Sammy, sounds like a case." Dean patted his brother on the back and made his way to his room.

-

Sam walked through the halls. It was his first day of senior year. Another new school. Another new town. He figured he should just keep to himself. Who knew how long they would be staying here. Hell, he came in halfway through the semester. Everyone already had their friend groups. Nothing really-

"Ah!" He ran smack into a smaller figure. The girl dropped every paper and they flew across the hall.

"I'm so sorry!" Sam said, scrambling to help her pick up the papers. He had a stack in his hand and reached to grab the last one when another hand touched his. He looked up and bonked heads with the stranger.

"Aw dammit." The girl said, rubbing her forehead, "I'm so sorry, I'm such a clutz." When they finally made eye contact, the mood changed.

"Hi." He said with a crooked smile.

"Hi..." The girl smiled. They both stood, he handed her his stack.

"I'm Sam. By the way." He said, holding onto the straps of his backpack.

"Sam." She repeated, "It's very nice to meet you. I'm (Y/N), student body president. Or at least that's the title. No one takes me seriously." She smiled, "You're new."

"How could you tell?" He chuckled.

"Small town. Everyone knows everyone." She shrugged, "And I think I would remember a smile like that."

"Hey!" Sam was brought out of his daydream by Dean smacking him on the shoulder.

"What?" He asked, blinking to clear his vision.

"You alright? You've been catatonic for like twenty minutes." Dean looked at him seriously, "You alright?" Sam always hated that look, like Dean was studying him.

"Yeah." He nodded, "Fine."

Dean shrugged, "Well we're here."

-

After a stop at the motel, Sam and Dean suited up in their FBI gear. They entered the sheriff's office with the badges at the ready. They approached a deputy and showed their badges.

"Agents Priestly and Forester, we're here about the homicides. Can we speak to the sheriff?" Dean said.

The deputy looked around nervously, clearing not accustomed to speaking with the FBI.

"Oh uh yeah, sure. This way." The deputy lead them back to the sheriff's office. The sheriff was a man around Sam's age, he was leaning on his desk, looking over a file.

The deputy knocked on the doorway, "Sheriff, FBI here about the murders." The deputy squeaked out the word. The sheriff looked up and closed the file, dismissing the deputy with the flick of this wrist.

"Come on in, fellas. I'm Sheriff Witicker." He looked from Dean to Sam as he shook their hands, and then stopped.

"Do I know you?" The sheriff narrowed his eyes.

Sam swallowed then smiled, "No. I, uh, just have one of those faces."

The sheriff nodded, "You must. You remind of this nerd I went to school with." He chuckled. Dean hummed, smiled at Sam and when he got the bitch face in return, he looked back at the Sheriff.

"So what do you have so far?" Dean asked, "Any suspects?"

"Not a clue. It's like the perp just walked in, scrubbed the place clean and walked out. All without disturbing a thing. We think that maybe there's some connection from the victims and the killer." He handed Sam the file to look over crime scene photos. The victim was someone Sam recognized.

"First victim was the coach at the high school. Throat tore clean open and partially devoured." Sheriff said, "Now Devin was a hardass but not enough to get murdered. We played football together. Same for the next Vic, Liza worked at the local library."

"Any witnesses?" Dean asked as he looked at the file in Sam's hands.

"Not at all." The sheriff sighed, "You guys gotta understand. We haven't had a murder in Ojai since 2001. And with the reunion coming up. Well, we're kind of on edge here."

"We understand." Sam said, "We'll look into this the best we can." Sam handed him a card, "Call us if anything happens." The sheriff took the card and nodded. The two left the office and went into the parking lot.

"Did you know that guy?" Dean asked as he looked over the car at his brother.

"Yeah. Made my life hell. Him and the rest of the football team." Sam nodded.

"And what about the other girl, Liza?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged, "Name rings a bell but I didn't know her personally. I think she mostly stuck to herself."

"Like you, nerd?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

Sam pursed his lips, "Not funny."

"It's kinda funny." Dean got into the car, "Seems like a vampire to me. Like that nest in Hibbing."

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Let's just hope these are random and there isn't a pattern."

"Well, first things first, food. I'm starving." Dean started the car and they drove to the local supermarket.

-

Sam looked through the aisles with a shopping basket in his arm. He rather get his own food than Dean's assortment of junk and beer. As he turned a corner, a shopping cart rammed him in the waist. He doubled over with an oof, dropping his basket.

"I am so sorry! I wasnt-...Wait." he recognized that voice, "Sam?" She asked.

Sam held his stomach and looked up. It was (Y/N) not looking a day older than they did in highschool. She was wearing long black pants and a knit sweater. Her hair was short, it framed her face well.

"(Y/N).." he smiled. She squealed and came around, hugging him tightly. Sam chuckled and hugged her back. He had to lean down due to his height.

"Oh my God, it's so great to see you!" She said as she pulled away and looked up into his eyes, "What are you doing here?"

Sam had to think of something, anything that would make sense.

"I uh."

"You came for the reunion, didn't you?" She pointed at him.

He chuckled and showed his hands, "Guilty."

"I knew you would!" She blushed, "I mean uh... Maybe I was hoping." She shook her head, "Whatever. Um. Look at me, talking your ear off. You're probably busy." She rambled.

"I'm not." Sam couldn't even think really. Seeing her again was like a breath of fresh air.

"You're not? Oh uh... Would you uh... Maybe wanna grab lunch so we could... Catch up?"

"I'd really like that." Sam grinned.

"Hey Sammy, you want some-" Sam closed his eyes and cringed when Dean approached.

"Woah." Dean smirked and licked his lips, "I'm sorry about my brother here. Was he bothering you, ma'am?"

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him, "Oh please. I remember you, Dean. Come on. That's just sad."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Wait a minute. You're (Y/N)." Dean connected the dots. He laughed, "Man, I still don't understand how this guy caught the eye of a fox like you."

She looked at Sam and rolled her eyes, "Well, Sam. I'll see you later. Say 2:30 at the place we used to go? Same booth?"

"Yeah, sounds great." Sam grinned.

"Mom, can we go now? I still need to do homework for my law and society class." Everyone's attention was brought to a tall, brown haired, hazel eyed boy that came up behind (Y/N).

"Of course, honey." (Y/N) reached up and brushed some hair from the boys face.

Sam's mind seemed to go blank. This kid, (Y/N)'s kid... They had a striking resemblance. Dean blinked at the tall child and then at Sam.

"Sam, Dean." (Y/N) said, clearing her throat, "This is my son, Jared." Jared gave the two men a half smile and little wave.

"Come on." Sam whispered as he tugged on her hand. He pulled (Y/N) in the middle of the gym floor. The colored lights painting them in a soft purple glow. Prom was slowly coming to an end. But Sam wanted to make this special. He would be leaving soon and he wanted to give her the best night she could.

"People are staring." She said between her teeth. She had her hands on his shoulders, the flowers from her corsage tickled at his neck. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown with sleeves that came off the shoulder. Her hair was up and curled.

"Let them. You look beautiful." Sam breathed out the words.

"Sam..." (Y/N) blushed and smiled, looking up into his eyes.

Soon the dance came to an end but their night continued on the roof of the motel where Sam and his family were staying. He had laid out a blanket and pillows from the room. They sat there and looked up at the stars, pointing out different constellations.

Sam looked at her and suddenly kissed her cheek. It was an impulse and quieted her talk of mythology and lore about the stars. She stiffened and turned bright red.

"Sam..." She whispered, leaning in...

"Sammy." Dean waved a hand in front of his brother's face. Sam blinked, still trying to focus on what just happened.

"Did that kid-" Sam began.

"Look like your carbon copy? Yeah, he did." As the both walked down they aisle. Sam caught a glimpse of (Y/N) and Jared loading up their car with groceries. Jared looked up and made eye contact. Sam nodded, Jared did the same and then got into the car.

"Well." Dean said, "This makes this a little complicated." They made their way to the Impala with their bags.

"A little?" Sam scoffed, "Dean, that could be my kid."

Dean shook his head, "Nah nah nah, this isn't like Ben where we liked the same things. No this kid looks like someone took your DNA and cloned you." He shivered, "Two of you is the last thing I need."

Sam ignored him and instead was brought to his phone ringing.

"Agent Forester." He said as he answered.

"Hey, Agent, this is Sheriff Witicker. We found more victims." Sam's face went slack.

"Right now?" He asked. Vampires usually don't go out during the day like this. Not alone.

"Yeah. It's a blood bath in here." He said, "I'll send you the address."

"Thanks." Sam ended the call and looked up at Dean.

"You go the the restaurant, I'll check out the crime scene." Dean said and opened his door.

"What about-" Sam started.

"Dude, the vampire is the least of our issues right now. You need a paternity test." Dean got into the car. Sam stood there for a moment before he sighed and made his way into town. Thinking of all the questions he wanted to ask.

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

NEW SERIES

Also I'm creative with names, did you know that?

Read part 2 here!

Taglist (shoot me an ask if you want to be added!):

@happy-little-winchester

@hobby27

@beanie-beebo

@vicmc624

@ria132love

@lilulo-12

@teenwaywardasgardian

@somebodyto-love

[youreverycolor]

An Unlikely Love: Post Script (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: Prompt #186 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“I’m eating because I’m very uncomfortable.”). I will probably be using Anna Stein’s character in a lot of the oneshots I write, so perhaps they’ll get their own miniseries. :)

Also should add that I wrote this while on Percocet after surgery so I apologize for typos or weirdness.

Written for @madpanda75; if you would like to be tagged on future Barba oneshots/fic, please reply and let me know! :)

Song: “My Shot” from the Hamilton soundtrack

~*~*~*~

“Mr. Barba? Anna Stein is here.”

Rafael Barba, the boy-wonder assistant district attorney, was not known for getting tongue-tied. In fact, he was usually the one doing the tying. But when his assistant opened his door and announced Anna’s arrival, he didn’t know what to say. After cases were over, he would nod in the victim’s direction, acknowledge their thank-you, and head back to his office to start all over again with someone else’s nightmare. He couldn’t remember a time when a victim had come to visit him after the case was over—and Anna’s case had been over for a year.

Last time Rafael had seen her, Anna was talking to Olivia in the hallway outside the courtroom where her rapist had just been sentenced to fifteen years in prison. Despite the victory, Anna had looked frail and somewhat dazed. After his years working with SVU, he knew this was understandable; sometimes a victim became so consumed with the trial that they didn’t quite know what to do after it was over. But he also knew Olivia had told her what she told all victims: that people who go through horrific experiences can survive and thrive when they get the support they need.

“Send her in,” he replied, but Carmen was already one step ahead of him��before he could even stand up, Anna was walking through his door. His breath caught in his chest; if he didn’t know better, he would never have been able to imagine this was the same woman who cried on a witness stand as John Buchanan tried to rip her apart. This woman walked tall, her blonde hair cascading down her back, pale skin glowing under the slightest coat of makeup. She looked like life had been breathed back into her.

She smiled at him as Carmen closed the door behind her. “Mr. Barba,” she said, walking toward his desk. “Thank you for taking a minute to see me.”

He extended his hand and she took it, giving him a confident shake. He remembered that about her; no matter how traumatized she had been, her handshake was always strong. “Of course,” he said. “How are you, Ms. Stein?”

“Please, call me Anna.”

“Okay, Anna. Have a seat.” She sank into of the chairs on the other side of his desk and, instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat next to her. “What can I do for you?”

“This is going to be a little—I mean, it’s going to sound—” She took a deep breath. “Ever since the trial, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do next. As you can imagine, I didn’t really feel I could go back to work there.”

“I can imagine. Your company wasn’t exactly helpful in the investigation.”

“No, of course not. They were more interested in protecting him. The CEO is more valuable than an executive assistant, and I’ve basically been blackballed in the financial industry.”

He nodded sadly, knowing how these things usually went. “Well, if it’s legal assistance you need, I can certainly recommend—”

She held up a hand. “Oh, no, no, that’s not it. But it’s kind of related, I guess. Like I said, I’ve been thinking about what I want to do now. And I talked a little to Detective Benson—Olivia—about it, and she’s the one who suggested I talk to you.”

He was intrigued. “Go on.”

She looked upwards and then let out a loud sigh. “I think I want to go to law school,” she finally said. “I know that that’s going to sound really—I mean, who just ‘decides’ to go to law school, right? And I know that most people go right after undergrad, and I have a biology degree, not political science or English, and—why are you smiling?”

He didn’t even realize he was. But listening to Anna talk reminded him of how excited he had been when he got his acceptance letter to Harvard Law. It shouldn’t even have been a surprise to him, considering he was poised to graduate from Harvard College. But it was still one of the most joyous days of his life, the beginning of the future.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not that I’m not taking this seriously. But I’m not sure what I can do to help you.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “I guess it’s just that seeing how hard you fought for me…I don’t really know any other lawyers, Mr. Barba. And I want to talk to someone who’s done this. I know you’re really busy, and I understand if—”

He shook his head. “No, no, I’d be happy to talk. Right now, I have to finish prepping this case”—he gestured to the open file on his desk—“but if you have some time later this week, I’d be happy to make some time.”

“Of course. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

“First lesson about being a lawyer. Never turn down the opportunity to influence new lawyers.”

She grinned and stood up. “I’ll make a note.”

He whipped out his phone and checked his calendar. “Does Thursday night work for you? I could be free after seven.”

“That’s perfect. I hear Forlini’s is popular with the legal crowd.”

“Usually when I’m there, I’m eating because I’m very uncomfortable.” She raised an eyebrow. “Tends to be where the squad and I go after we lose a case,” he explained. “The food’s a comfort when justice isn’t.”

“Got it. So, where then?”

He thought for a second. “How do you feel about Latin food?”

***

The summer evening threatened a storm. Between when Anna left her apartment and her arrival at Coppelia, the Latin American diner in Greenwich Village where she was meeting with Rafael Barba, the wind had picked up and nearly blew the cab door off when she opened it. Thankfully, Rafael hadn’t arrived yet, so she had time to escape to the restroom. Once she secured the door behind her, she set to fixing herself up. She pulled her hair into an approximation of a bun on top of her head, opting to work with the windblown look rather than fight against it. She took her leather jacket off and disentangled her double-layered necklaces. After picking a piece of lint off of her black t-shirt and smoothing the lines of her jeans, she was satisfied that she looked like a decently put-together woman. But just before she opened the door to head back into the diner, she dropped her coat and went back to the mirror.

Before the rape, she’d never worn perfume or makeup. But she decided, once she started to rebuild her life, that it was time to take risks and try new things. She knew this wasn’t a date. She didn’t intend it that way when she’d asked to meet him. She didn’t expect he thought anything different, either. And yet, she still coated her lips with watermelon gloss and gave herself an extra spritz of Chanel Mademoiselle from the travel bottle she carried with her.

When she made her way to the front of the restaurant again, Rafael was just entering the restaurant. She tried to look unassuming; the last thing she wanted was to seem overeager, especially next to the confident and collected ADA.

“Ms. Stein,” he said. “Glad to see you found the place.”

“First of all, it wasn’t easy—this place is a hole in the wall, literally—and second, Counselor, I told you to call me Anna.”

He took off his overcoat, and Anna was surprised to see that he wasn’t wearing a suit. Instead, he had on a dark blue Henley and slim-cut jeans; somehow, she had never pictured him wearing anything other than suspenders and ties. “Well, if you want me to call you Anna, then you’re going to need to call me Rafael.”

The waiter sat them at a booth toward the back of the restaurant, where, thankfully, the noise was much quieter. Rafael ordered a scotch, and Anna ordered a glass of sangria. “Thanks again for agreeing to meet with me,” she said.

“No need to thank me,” he replied. “That said, I’m not sure what I can offer you. I went to law school ten years ago. It’s probably an entirely different process now.”

“It’s not really school I want to know about so much as…well…your life.”

“My life? What do you mean?”

The waiter brought their drinks and asked if they were ready to order. Neither of them had looked at the menu yet, so they tabled the discussion in order to do so. “What’s good here?” she asked.

“Everything. But at the risk of sounding unbelievably boring, the Cubano is the best in the city.”

“Sold.”

“Wow, that was easy. Next, you’re going to let me talk you into applying to Harvard.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “What makes you think you talked me into anything? Maybe I already wanted to get that, and you just confirmed my choice.”

He smirked. “You’ve got a good poker face.”

“After what I’ve been through, I needed to get one.” When she saw his face fall slightly, her blue eyes flashed. “That was a joke. A bad one.”

He relaxed and took a sip of scotch. “I get it. We all cope differently.” Before she could ask what “we” meant, the waiter returned for their orders. Once he disappeared again, Anna pulled a notepad from her bag. Rafael laughed. “You do know that you have to trade your handwriting in for your law license, right?”

“You used notepads during the trial.”

He was taken aback. “You noticed that?”

“I had to focus my attention somewhere, I guess,” she said. “It was either that or be constantly aware of the assault on my life choices.”

She was referring, of course, to John Buchanan. He was the guy every rich white man accused of rape hired to get them acquitted and was also the perfect caricature of a defense attorney. His usual M.O. was to call the victim a slut or accuse her of lying or, Rafael’s personal favorite, claim it was consensual, rough sex. Listening to Buchanan, one would think that every woman on the planet enjoyed being dominated and sodomized.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to protect you from that,” Rafael said sadly, casting his eyes downward.

Anna’s eyes softened and she leaned across the table. “You did your job. I know that. Why do you think I’m here?”

He looked up at her again, and then at her notebook. It was one of those old-school composition books, the kind he used in high school. “Okay, first question. Why do you want to go to law school?”

She took another sip of sangria. “You promise not to laugh?”

“Of course.”

“You.” His eyebrows shot up, nearly off his forehead. She smiled behind her glass; she knew he’d have that reaction. “I know it sounds like I’m just kissing your ass, but it’s true.”

“No, that’s not why I’m—it’s just—I’ve prosecuted hundreds of these cases, and—well, truth be told…”

Anna cocked her head. “What? What is it?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve never even had a victim visit me after the case was closed, and now I’ve got you telling me that I made you want to go to law school. It’s a bit…”

“Overwhelming?”

He shook his head. “Not overwhelming. Just…unexpected.”

As their food arrived, she said, “If I’ve learned anything from the last two years, it’s that sometimes, the things we expect least change our lives the most.”

It would be years before Anna and Rafael realized how right she was; for the moment, he was content to tell her all about the law, and she was content to listen to him talk.

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 10/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

Rey woke up cold and aching. It hurt everywhere—her neck, her back, her feet. The back of the car was certainly large enough to sleep in, but it had been an unrestful sleep. Every little thing had made her jump last night. Every headlight that zoomed by was the blonde woman. Every torchlight flitting across the alleys of the campground was looking for her. Every time the dog barked, someone was surely approaching.

She was tired, sore, and already contemplating defeat. She had left London to escape depression. But instead of a sunglasses-and-cocktails vacation, she had found herself in the heart of the Rocky Mountains, 7,500 kilometers away from home. And top it off, she was being chased by a strange woman. Her luck was six feet under and her paranoia through the roof.

She wished that Leia Skywalker (and even Rose to a certain extent) had warned her about what she was getting herself into because she had no clue what to do now. Last night she had seriously imagined leaving the car in a garage somewhere and taking a flight from Jackson Hole to San Francisco. Ciao, stalkers and bizarre favors.

But what about BB8? Rey had taken responsibility of her. Taking her on a flight would require veterinary clearance, a doggie carrier, and all sorts of other complications that she had neither the energy nor the means for.

Her gut feeling told her that this setup had been deliberate on Leia’s part. With a dog in tow, her safest bet was by driving that car back. Unless she could abandon the dog in the woods somewhere...

BB8 chose that exact moment to nuzzle against her, begging for affection.

“You were in the loop about this, weren’t you?” sighed Rey as she scratched the dog between the ears. “You’re the dog equivalent of a honey trap, you conniving little traitor.”

But seriously—it was just a dog, not a KGB spy. She would be fine...

Rey got out of the car and stretched. “Come on, let’s go for a walk and then look for some breakfast.”

She dug out the box of cookies she bought last night and ate one, occasionally giving bits and pieces to BB8 after making sure they were chocolate-free. She let BB roam free this time, sensing that she wouldn’t try to escape from now on.

Tent folded and loaded into the car, Rey packed the rest of her things. BB8 chased an errant squirrel, helped herself to some treats, and took care of business. Rey watched the dog play in the tall grass as she continued checking her phone for messages. A while ago she had even left a voice message to Ben.

Rey here, British and susceptible. Sorry for my reaction the other day, my life is complicated. I saw your band was passing through Jackson Hole on the 5th of July. I’m in the neighborhood, I might come around. Bye.

That message would likely cost her dearly. How was she going to justify contacting Ben again after the scene she had caused at the Four Seasons? To be honest with herself, she hadn’t seen an alternative last night, sitting there on the cold ground. Her family and friends were thousands of kilometers away. Leia Skywalker had disappeared on her.

Whether she liked it or not, Ben Solo was the only person she had maintained contact with since landing, and the only person who had really done her any good without expecting anything in return. She hoped she wasn’t bothering him.

To be fair he had also called her ex and meddled in her personal life when he barely knew her, but due to the circumstances she tried her best to forgive him for that. She had wanted to turn the page on that particular incident and banish Ben Solo from her thoughts forever—before that mysterious blonde woman showed up.

Since then Rey had fretted about traveling alone, with no one to turn to in times of trouble. It’s not like she needed a protector. She just needed a friend, if only for the comfort of knowing that she wasn’t alone. That several hundred kilometers down the road, there would be someone on the other end of the line if she ran into a problem. But it was 7 AM and he hadn’t answered.

In his defense, Rey had texted him around midnight. Maybe he just hadn’t seen it yet.

“All aboard, BB8!”

The dog jumped into the back seat and started chewing methodically on her rubber duckie. The resulting (absurdly loud) squeaking noises made Rey smile.

Hitting the road again, Rey regretted not taking a bathroom break or a shower, or using the washing machines available at the entrance of the campsite. She reeked of dog, sweat, and old car. Strangely enough, it made her laugh. The woman Finn had known had always been a belle, sporting manicured nails and designer perfume. If only he could see her now—he would hardly recognize her.

Come to think of it, thinking about Finn no longer made her balk. Was she simply too tried to be angry? She was just starting down a particularly sharp turn when her phone vibrated. It took every ounce of her willpower not to stop in the middle of the highway to read that text. The Millenium Falcon reached Jackson Hole a few minutes later, and she parked in central town before scrambling for her phone.

Hello, Brit. I see you’ve found my number, Rey. I’m settling in at Jackson H this morning. I’m staying at the Lodge, 80 Scott Lane. I’m free should you want to get coffee sometime—let me know.

It was barely a kilometer away, she could practically walk there. But once again she thought about the blonde trying to break into her car. She would feel much safer parking in the security of a private hotel garage. It only took a few minutes to find the place, a magnificent Swiss chalet complete with exposed beams and stonework. She spotted the infamous black pickup in the parking area and stationed the Millennium Falcon right next to it.

Hello Ben, I found the Lodge. Still up for coffee?

His response was immediate:

You’ll find me in the lobby.

Leia rolled her eyes when another TSA agent approached her as she waited near the baggage claim at Sacramento International Airport. She had been expecting it, but the sheer number of public servants under the First Order’s thumb still managed to surprised her. From the minute she had left the house she had been coincidentally stopped at every traffic checkpoint possible. It was chilling to realize that this sprawling private organization was in some ways above the law.

She had thought about giving up more than once.

What could she do at this age, with only her brother and a handful of rebels behind her? They were up against a massive corporate empire that had the feds in their pocket. But Leia Skywalker had fought her entire life. For the military, for her honor, for the love of her husband, for her son’s education, for minorities’ rights, and for the weary and downtrodden underdogs. Therein lied her definition of the brave: those who defended the defenseless. She could never stop doing that. Leia knew that nothing short of her death would result in her silence.

Leia let the man search her without protest—like every other officer before him. She was wearing a long charcoal dress and heavy ornate bangles of both wrists. Her hair was pinned up in an elaborate braided chignon that added to her height. In her left hand, she carried a cane. It was less for walking and more for leaning on after spending long hours on her feet.

Like every other time, they let her go. He gave her suitcase back after failing to find anything suspicious—the lining was starting to wear. The object they were so eagerly looking for was no longer  in her possession. She smiled knowingly. Knowing that thousands of miles away, an English tourist was on her way.

Leia was greeted by a friendly face as she crossed the line into Arrivals. Her lawyer, Amilyn Holdo. Amilyn was a sixty-something daredevil, her greying hair dyed a striking violet. She was wearing a knee-length taupe skirt suit and violet pumps. Her smile was all dimples. She greeted Leai warmly and grabbed her suitcase.

“How are you, Leia? It sure took you a while—did they hold you up?”

“Like always, Amilyn. My health isn’t what it used to be and they wouldn’t let me go through the baggage claim. Every damn time. I’m forced to just ignore it these days. How’s the mission going?”

“We’ll discuss it in my office, you never know who’s listening. The meeting with Governor Valorum’s staff is in three hours, that gives us some time to plan.” Guiding Leia by the hand, she made her way to the taxi pickup zone.

The law offices of Amilyn Holdo were rather modest. Far from the ornate, high-vaulted, glass and steel monoliths that symbolized the American legal system in popular imagination. A room with a single window and wall to wall bookshelves laden with books and dossiers. Box after box of case files on every available surface, overflowing with papers, binders, envelopes, and notebooks with handwritten memos scrawled on every last page.

Amilyn moved a box stacked on a chair to make space for Leia to sit down. She poured a glass of water for her guest, and rummaged through a small cabinet. She handed Leia a hefty violet dossier held closed by a single strap. “FORCE America: First Order Resource and Capital Extraction”.

All traces of humor gone, the lawyer leaned forward and folded her fingers below her chin. “Tell me everything. Last I heard, you had found someone new?”

“Yes. Rose discovered the perfect candidate. It’s not like we could do it ourselves. We couldn’t use email or the postal service. And we would be spotted from a mile away if we did it in-person. I had to delegate.”

“But who is this girl? How do you know she’s not some FORCE spy?”

“Rose and Paige did a background check, it only took a few hours to clear her. We’re quite certain she’s just a broke tourist. It’s perfect really, FORCE was expecting an activist type, and there’s no way they can stop every single tourist from Colorado to California.”

Amilyn pursed her lips, visibly still unconvinced. “But you gave her the Falcon. Surely it will attract unwanted attention?”

Leia smiled. “They can take the Falcon apart piece by piece is they want, they won’t find a thing.”

“I wish I was confident about this,” she sighed. “This whole operation hinges on the element of surprise. If FORCE finds those documents before the public, we’re back to square one. And this time we won’t get a head start.”

She was interrupted when Leia placed a hand on hers, a comforting gesture. “Hope is like the sun, if you only believe in it when you see it, you’ll never make it through the night. Amilyn, this is the culmination of years of hard work. Have a little faith, they won’t win this time.”

“I hope you’re right, if we fail we won’t be able to recover and—“

“Trust me, Amilyn. This girl is very capable.”

The lawyer smiled begrudgingly, not quite uplifted by her client’s optimism. She chewed on the inside of her cheek in silence, avoiding Leia’s eyes.

“What’s eating you, Amy?”

“It’s—Kylo Ren.”

Leia’s smile faltered. Her face fell as she took a sip of water. “What about him?”

“You know he’s been tracking the Tico sisters. Ironically, that means they can keep tabs on him too...but it seems he left town a few days ago. Almost exactly the same time as the girls, Connix, Milham and the others.”

“FORCE already knew we were on the move. We planned for that. The more we scatter our agents, the more resources they spend chasing diversions instead of cracking our strategy,” Leia responded, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“Yes, I know. But Kylo has Snoke’s ear, and Hux’s attention. He knows the inner workings of our organization, he knows you and your brother. And he’s deeply involved with the Order. Are you sure he won’t see this coming?”

Leia’s shoulders sagged, as if burdened by the weight of her grief. She took a deep breath, pausing to find the right words. “Kylo is a brilliant boy. He was swayed by material wealth and prestige. He’ll understand one day. I don’t think he would dare to come after me himself.”

“And you?” Amilyn asked, “If we win, they’ll lose everything. Are you willing to put your own son in prison?”

[hayjeon]

All I Want for Christmas (ft. Yoongi)

→ singledad, CEO!yoongi x secretary!reader → 13k words

A/N: I wish all of you the best of holidays. I love you all.  

“Y/N, could ask you to do me a favor?” 

You look up from your desk, eyes rounding because Mr. Min had never asked you to do anything before. It was your job, for Christ’s sake, to do whatever he needed you to do. 

“Yes, sir. Of course.” You stand and walk over to his desk, where he sits slumped and with his tie pulled down and his sleeve pushed up on his arms. You’d never seen the handsome CEO so frazzled and tired before. Maybe it was the effects of the divorce taking place. 

“I–” he pauses, seeming to mull over whether or not he really wanted to ask you the specific favor. “–I have gotten the opportunity to see my daughter again.” He sighs, rubbing his temples. “For the weekend before Christmas, before her mother will pick her up again. But I…” 

He pauses and you wait, silently wringing your fingers. 

“…I have absolutely no idea what to do with her, and I need your help.” 

You pause, not knowing what to say. “O-oh, yes. Of course sir. Will you be bringing her into the office?” He’d done so a few times, and the sweet little girl was an absolute joy to have around, bouncing around between desks and kissing cheeks and touching papers with genuine curiosity in her big eyes.

He sighs, turning his seat to stare up at you. “N-no, Y/N, I-I’ll be taking the weekend off to spend some time with her. I’ve left the company in Namjoon’s hands, he’ll do fine.” 

You nod, “Would you like me to schedule you an itinerary of what to do?” 

He seems to think about it. “I’m sure this is too much to ask of you, and you are completely welcome to deny my request but, would it be okay if you could come with us? I’ve already thought of a couple of things to do. She…she needs someone who understands her, and she seems to like you very much.” 

Your mouth falls open. Was he asking you to be her mother figure? A blush crawls over your cheeks and you thank the heavens that he’s not looking because he’d have seen the way you blinked too many times to be professional before responding, “Of course, Mr. Min. I’d love to.” 

He avoids eye contact. “Of course, you’ll be compensated over-time and I will give you the adequate raise and you will be picked up and dropped off–” 

You cut him off with a shy smile. “Sir,” 

He stops, finally looking up at you. “Yes?” 

“I don’t mind all that. I’m happy to help.” 

He hesitates, and the room is filled with silence. 

“I--” “Th--” the both of you speak up at the same time. 

He quickly turns his face, and you cough as you clear your throat to fill the awkwardness. “Alright, Y/N. Thank you,” he dismisses, and you shyly mutter back, “You’re welcome sir,” before you walk away to your desk, and sit down and begin searching for things to do with a five year old little girl. 

It was going to be quite the weekend.

“You’re going to be spending the night at his house?!” Jisoo shrieks, watching you pack your clothing and toiletries into a small suitcase. 

You roll your eyes at her as you fold your blouse into a nice little pile and place it into the corner of the carrier. “Relax, I’m basically babysitting.” 

She plops on the bed next to your carrier and you frown at her when she topples the little nice pile of clothes you stacked. “Yeah, but with your hot, single, boss Y/N.” She picks up one of the underwear you packed for the trip, holding it up with two fingers with her lip curled in disgust. “Like, c’mon. Seriously?” 

You snatch the pair of cotton undies back from her, and fold it nicely again. “I’m not hitting on my boss, Jisoo. He literally just got divorced a couple of months ago.” 

She chews thoughtfully on her banana. “True, but he was cheated on by that bitch of a wife he was forced to marry. I don’t see any attachment issues there. And also, if he’s asking you to come along with him on the weekend before christmas with his daughter, I don’t see why you wouldn’t think he has some sort of interest in you.” 

You stop, thinking about the lingering glances and the unusual gentleness in his voice whenever he dealt with you. You were his assistant, nothing more, and nothing less. But it was quite obvious he was exceptionally gentler with you, whilst trusting you the most by piling the most work anyone in the office had seen under your care. But you’d assumed it was because you were good at what you did, completing tasks and carrying out orders with ease. 

“Ugh, whatever. I just want to enjoy the weekend, and I’m pretty sure it’ll be a lot better than just lounging at home watching netflix.” 

She nods, “Well yeah. He’s giving you a bonus too right?”

You shrug. “I really don’t care, but I guess, yeah.” 

She giggles excitedly. “When do you leave?” 

“In a couple of hours. I’m staying three days, two nights.” 

“Holy shit,” she scrambles up and runs to your drawers, digging through the organized piles messily, ignoring your protests. Grabbing the laciest pairs of undies she can find, she shoves them into your carrier and begins rummaging through your closet, trying to find anything but the grossly professional blouses and skirts and blazers she saw you folding. “Y/N, I swear, this is your chance. Stop living with a stick up your ass and live a little. How many years has it been since you kicked that jerk to the curb?” 

You sigh, submitting to her antics and plopping down on your chair. “two years.” 

She rolls her eyes as she grabs a nice tight longsleeve and holds it above a pair of jeans, squinting at the combo. “Exactly. Two freaking years and you still haven’t gotten in a relationship after he cheated. Move on! Get some dick, grab that hot CEO bachelor before he gets shipped off into another arranged marriage!” 

“Jisoo!” 

What she said was true though. Little did she know that deep down inside, you’d fallen for your gentle but firm and hardworking boss. Late nights working alongside him and following him to all his meetings, you’d witnessed first hand how much he cared about his company and his employees. He was an excellent businessman, hard and cold. But when it came to his business, his employees, or his family, he became a protective machine, working to defend his own honor and the things he loved. 

It was the little things, the quiet muttered, “thank you”s that he never forgot to add. Years of secretary work had accustomed you to accepting the gruff belittlement that other male bosses treated you with, lewd glances and guffawing demands. But Mr. Min was always kind, and respectful towards you. 

But he was married. The first six months of your job consisted of hiding blushed cheeks behind your hair or turning your gaze away to tear your eyes away from the wedding band placed on his finger. Little did you know, until the seventh month, that he was in a cruel marriage agreement, a sort of peace treaty between him and a dying rival company. 

The woman was a menace, absolutely disgusting in the way she treated her employees, Mr. Min, and her daughter. She was horrible, and it wasn’t only until tabloids caught her with another politician thirty years older than her that her family finally admitted to their faults and agreed to Mr. Min’s files for divorce. It was a clean cut, and the media sided with the polite Min Yoongi who refused to demand an earlier divorce in love for his daughter and in respect for the reputation of his in-laws. 

“I’m serious! You’re in your twenties, Y/N. It’s the hottest you’ll ever be. Flaunt that bod, wear a little more makeup, straighten your back and flirt. It won’t kill you.” 

You roll your eyes as Jisoo throws in the tightest pair of leggings you own. You were going to re-do that packing luggage as soon as possible. “Fine, whatever,” you grumble. 

Your phone buzzes with a text. It’s Mr. Min. 

[Mr. Min] My chauffer will be picking you up at 7:00. 

You lock your phone and begin organizing your makeup bag. “Alright, alright, just get off my back. I’ll keep you updated.” 

She calls out after you as you step into the shower. “Shave your legs! And your pussy!!!!” 

Cleanly shaven and impeccably packed, you shakily step out of the gorgeous sleek car. You’d underestimated his wealth. 

The Min Corp. building was an outstanding one that stood out in Seoul, tall jaw-dropping glass walls that towered up amongst the skyscrapers, but the house that he owned was even more gorgeous.

It was beautifully decorated with a lot of greens, each bush and vine trimmed and kept to perfection, climbing up modern white walls with sleek silver trimmings and clear glass windows that spanned from floor to ceiling. You step up the stone steps and press on the buzzer, and wait patiently as you hear steps approaching the door. 

Mr. Min swings the door open and you’re shocked to see that the man who is always dressed in perfect tailored Armani suits standing in front of you in a grey longsleeve and pajama pants. 

Given, the pajama pants were probably worth your monthly salary, but it took you a moment to adjust to how his comfortable attire made your heart skip a beat. He eyes you curiously through his glasses. “Y/N, you’re on time, like always. Come in.” 

You step inside and remove your shoes as the door shuts behind you and he begins walking further into the house. You follow, your small suitcase trailing behind you as you gawk at the incredible interior of the estate. 

“Hana is asleep right now. I think she’s been tired because of the traveling. But she’ll be up first thing tomorrow and you can greet her then. I’ll show you your room.” 

He leads you far down the corridor, and opens a door to reveal a gorgeous room, complete with a restroom, queen bed, desk, ottoman, and closet for you. You gasp as you walk in, marveling at the beautiful room. The room itself was bigger than your living room. Jisoo would have a fit. 

“It’s not much, but it was the best I could ask the maids to do in a couple of hours. We both didn’t expect you to say yes.” He admits, sheepishly glancing around the room. When you don’t respond, he clears his throat. Gesturing to the set of double doors a few feet away from yours, he says, “and that’s my room. If…if you ever need anything, just let me know.” 

You cough, and smile as professionally as you can. “Of course. Thank you so much.” 

He lingers, “No, thank you Y/N.” And with a nod and a tight-lipped tiny grin, he politely leaves. 

He shuts the door behind him and his steps are soft as they retreat to his bedroom. You sit on the plush bed, and begin unpacking, taking off your uncomfortable stockings to free your legs and unzipping your skirt. You change into comfortable clothes and lounge on the bed for a while before opening your laptop and planning for the next few days. 

Hana enjoyed winter activities, so you thought it would be a good idea to take her to the community park and let her play with other children. You could prepare some snacks and have a picnic with her and ice skate with her at the rink nearby. 

You were planning the activities for the second day when you become incredibly thirsty. You glance at the clock and it reads 1:13 am. 

Hoping that the silence outside indicates that Mr. Min has retreated for the night, you silently creak your door open and use your phone flashlight to find the kitchen. 

Padding over to where the kitchen is, you rummage through the fridge until you grasp a cool bottle of water. Sitting down on the kitchen island, you browse your phone, not bothering to flick on the light. You were going to leave soon anyway. 

 But the cool, low tone of Mr. Mins voice startles you and you drop the bottle. 

“Y/N?” 

 You yelp as the cool water splashed down your long sleeved sweater and the thin pajama pants you wore to bed. You scramble up from the stool and Mr. Min also hastens his step to come and help you wipe up the mess. “Oh, Mr. Min,” You choke out, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think—” 

He cuts you off by grabbing a hand towel from the oven handle and handing it to you, finding another one to mop off the rest of the water on the counter that was dripping towards you. 

“Oh,” you say, as he stops in his work to help you dab at your sweater and lap, “Sir, you don’t have to--” 

He gently pushes your hands away as he finishes. “It’s fine, Y/N.” He smiles up at you as you blush and help him wipe up the mess. 

He walks over to the fridge and gives you another bottle, throwing away the empty one that was on the floor. “Why are you up? Is there anything wrong with your room?” 

You widen your eyes, hands coming up to express your denial. “Oh, no, no. Definitely not. The room is absolutely perfect. I just needed some water while I was planning what to do with Hana tomorrow. I left the lights on because I was going to leave in a bit.”  

He blinks at you, nodding. “Did you come up with a lot?” 

You nod, producing your phone as you lean over in your stool to show him the screenshots that you found and the starred locations on google maps. He walks over to stand next to you with one hand on the counter and the other on his hip as he leans in to squint at your screen. 

“So we can start when she wakes up. I’ve found a recipe for some lamb bacon and pancakes. And once she’s done,” you swipe, showing him the yelp page, “we’ll go straight to the zoo that she once talked to me about. We’ll probably grab some lunch in this restaurant in the park and then when she gets tired, we can go have a picnic in the park that’s a couple blocks away from the zoo!” 

You smile down at your screen and look up to come face to face with your boss, who’d been leaning down to look at what you’d been animatedly showing him, and you freeze. 

He’s beautiful up close, and his face is inches from yours as you look up at him. He’s taller than you even as you perch on the high stool and seems to have thoughts running through his mind as his eyes dart between yours and narrows when you automatically drop your gaze to his thin lips. 

Those lips that could make million-dollar deals and destroy the economy in seconds, were also the same lips that uttered polite “thank you’s” and smiled gently at you throughout the day. You desired more than anything just to have a taste. 

He seems to hesitate and then clears his throat, leaning back away from you as he stands straight and stops leaning on the counter. He resumes his composure much faster than you do. “This is lovely. Thank you, Y/N. I’m sure Hana would love this.” 

You blink to wake yourself up from the trance and smile softly. 

“Oh, yes. Of course, Mr. Min. Anything for Hana.” You stand, dabbing at your shirt with the towel. Although damp, it’s almost dry. “I should get to bed now. It’ll be a full day ahead of us.” 

He nods, “Yes, please, get some rest. The last thing I want for you is you collapsing from dealing with the little pink energy monster.” 

You giggle behind your hand as he shows you the exit and flicks the light off as you both leave the kitchen and shuffle towards your respective rooms. You linger in your doorway. “Thank you, Mr. Min.” 

“No thank you,” he presses, peering at you from hair that’s not in its usual stiff position, but instead soft tufts that poke at his eyes. “I’d be lost without your help.” 

You smile gently, and turn, “Good night, Mr. Min.” 

“Y/N?” 

You stop, hand on the knob as you meet eyes with him again, “Please, call me Yoongi.” 

You nod as he smiles and shuts his door behind him, leaving you in the dark hallway with wide eyes and a smile that refuses to disappear. 

Day 1

“Y/N! Y/N! You’re here!” 

You wake up to a tiny high pitched voice and smile as Hana bounds into your room, flinging the door open with a bright smile and cute little frilly pink pajamas. 

“Hi Hana, how have you been?” You rub your eyes and sit up. That was some good sleep. You had to ask Yoongi whatever this mattress brand was, it was glorious for your always aching shoulders. 

“Good! I’m so excited!” 

You giggle as she bounces on your bed. “Is that why you woke up so early?” 

“Yeah! Daddy’s not awake yet, I think. That’s good.” 

“Oh, why?” You ask, getting up from the bed. She follows you into the restroom and watches you curiously as you brush your teeth. 

“Because I wanna bake cookies for daddy.” 

You widen your eyes at her and smile. “Oh yea? Is there more stuff you’d like to do? I have a few things planned, but we can do whatever you want,” you grin, booping her on the nose. 

She squeals and begins counting on her fingers. “Well, first, after we bake christmas cookies for daddy and santa, I wanna go ice skating!” 

You wink at her. “Already have that on the list.” 

“And then can we please decorate?” She pouts, sadly staring up at you. “Daddy said he forgot to put them on again.” 

You gargle and pat your face dry with a towel as she follows you out and watches you change. “Again? What do you mean?” 

She sighs as she sits on your bed. “Daddy doesn’t ever put up christmas lights. Or trees!” 

You smile at her gently. Yoongi was probably too busy. “Alright, we can do that today too. Your father is taking some time off to spend it with you today. Isn’t that awesome?” 

She laughs gleefully as you finish pulling the sweater over your head, fixing your hair and applying a bit of makeup before stepping out with Hana. It’s already 6 am, and his door is closed. You wonder how tired he must’ve been to be sleeping in this late. From what you remembered, Yoongi always woke up at 4:30 am to start his day, and was in the company by 6:30 sharp. 

Shrugging, you let Hana lead you into the kitchen, where her nanny has already prepared the ingredients for the baking on the countertop. She must’ve heard Hana telling you about it as you got ready. 

You help Hana put on her tiny little apron and wash her hands before you both get to work on mixing the flour and eggs and milk together in a bowl. 

You’re helping Hana roll the cookie dough and put them on the baking sheet when Yoongi walks in the front door, wiping sweat from his face with a towel. You straighten up and face him with wide eyes as he freezes by the doorway and doesn’t say anything as he watches you. His mouth drops a bit and you stutter to somehow make an excuse. 

“I-I thought it would be a good idea to--” 

“Hi daddy!” Hana interrupts, and Yoongi breaks from his surprise, blinking a few times as he smiles down at his daughter. “Good morning princess.” 

“Y/N is helping me make cookies for you and santa! Right?” She tugs at your apron. 

You tear your eyes off of Yoongi, nodding and biting your lip as you answer her and blush when Yoongi looks at you again. “Oh, yes, Hana. That’s right. Good job!” 

You break the silence as you turn and put the tray into the oven. Yoongi is still hovering by the doorway, after giving a hug to Hana and helping her wipe some flour off her cheek. 

“Sorry, we...we just thought it would be nice to have you wake up to some cookies. I-I  didn’t know you were taking a jog.” 

Yoongi is holding Hana up in his arms, who’s currently distracted playing with his earphones. “Oh, no. I-I’m just not used to anyone cooking in the kitchen these days.” He glances down at Hana. “Hey princess, I’m gonna hop into the shower so you can help Y/N clean up a bit, and we can eat the cookies with some breakfast and then go have some fun. How does that sound?” 

“Yes!” Hana wriggles until Yoongi lets go of her and bounds over to the bowls on the countertop. “Let’s clean Y/N! I can’t wait to ice skate!” 

You smile down at her and help her load the dishes into the sink, and let her take a towel and do the drying as she insists. 

Yoongi is a quick showerer, and is out with dry hair and a nice white sweater over some dark blue jeans by the time you’re finished with breakfast and setting the table. 

He takes a seat on the other side, right next to Hana, watching her eat and remind her to eat her fruits and veggies as she scarfs food into her mouth. You politely take a bit more to eat and then set down your cutlery. He glances over at you, and mumbles, “Would you like some coffee?” 

Surprised, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, perking up with wide eyes. “Oh, y-yes please, thank you.” He nods, tight-lipped again, and stands, taking his plate with him and placing it in the sink. You coo at Hana, watching her eat until he returns, two steaming mugs in his hand, and a cup of milk for Hana. The cookies taste lovely with the hot bitter drink. 

“So, what have you planned for us today?” He asks over the rim of the cup. 

You smile, opening your little planner. “Well, Hana would really like to go ice skating, so I’ve found a local rink that’s not to crowded around this time. And we can eat lunch there after we’re finished. When we come back, Hana would like to put up some christmas decorations, so I thought it would be nice to go buy a tree while we’re out.” 

He nods thoughtfully, turning to Hana. “You really want a tree that badly?” 

She pouts, frowning up at him. “Yes daddy, you never have a tree, and that might make Santa sad.” 

He chuckles, stroking her soft cheek with a gentle thumb. “Alright, baby. We’ll go.” He turns to you, “I’ll finish the dishes, you can get dressed. Thank you for the breakfast, it was delicious.” You nod politely, and pad upstairs. 

You leave Hana with him as you get ready, throwing on a long coat over some leggings and a thick knit sweater. When you come out, Yoongi��s finished the dishes, and is in the living room dressing Hana in an adorable corduroy coat and has thrown on a trench coat himself. He smiles a bit at you as you emerge, and silently holds the door open as you take a comfortable seat in the back of his car. 

“Where to, Y/N?” He asks gently, starting the engine. 

You nibble on a cookie as you tell him the directions to the ice rink. When you arrive, the place is already filled with families who are giggling and rushing to get their skates on. Hana squeals and takes your hand in hers as she scurries towards the rink. Yoongi parks the car and grabs your tickets and helps you and Hana pick your skates. 

You sit next to Hana, helping her with her skate laces, easy to tie because of their tiny size. Yoongi arrives later to see you struggling to tighten yours enough, your fingers too frozen in the cold to properly tighten the ropes around the metal prongs. 

He sets down both of your hot chocolates and gets down on one knee silently, grasping the laces in his long fingers, and cooly tying them without a word. You stop, gazing down at him and his long lashes that are focused on your skates and feel your cheeks heat up, but just murmur, “Thank you,” as he finishes without a word and begins to get to work on his own. 

The rink isn’t crowded, but because of the season, still has a couple families here and there even at this time in the late morning. You step gently onto the ice, and Hana follows, her tiny hand gripping yours through both layers of gloves, squealing delightedly as she finds her balance. Yoongi follows, steady on his own skates, and Hana turns, gripping his hand in her free hand. And together, with Hana laughing between you and your own giggles escaping, the three of you glide down the rink. 

“Okay, Hana, don’t run here, because it’s really icy,” you warn, following the over-excited toddler as she scurries between the lines of pine trees. You try to hurry after her, but your boots are just simple ankle rain-boots that you had, and as you try to catch up to Hana, your rubber soles slip on the icy grass. 

You yelp as you trip, but a strong hand wraps around your upper arm, gripping you tightly and pulling you up. When you look up, it’s Yoongi, and he has a look of concern on his face. “Are you okay?” He asks, brow furrowing. 

You straighten up, tucking the dislodged pieces of hair behind your ear again, and nodding. “I-I’m fine, thank you for that.” You hurry ahead and Yoongi lingers behind, watching you catch up to his daughter and pick her up in a squealing bundle of laughter. 

Picking a tree is easy amongst the thick, full-bodied options, and the seller offers to drive it behind the three of you in his truck. You buckle up Hana and get on with her in the backseat as Yoongi starts the car. It’s odd, having him drive.

Often times, it would be the cheuffer in the front, with you in the passenger seat, reading out the day’s to-do’s and meeting requests to Yoongi who sat silently and solemnly in the backseat, reading his own iPad for emails and company updates. But this time, seeing him silently and smoothly pull out of the tree lot parking lot and turn onto the road towards his estate, was a nice change for once. Especially, since the CEO was no longer dressed the way you were used to either, his neck covered in a thick scarf and a long coat that covers his white sweater and jeans combo, he looks quite comfortable and approachable. 

He pulls in, and together you help the man bring in the tree. It stands tall and beautiful in the middle of the home where the staircase wraps upward. It seems as if the maids already brought out boxes of old decorations, as the boxes are lined up against the wall, ready to be unpacked and used. You open them with Hana, who cutely points out each and every decoration with glee and nostalgia. 

With music playing in the background, the three of you get to work, Yoongi who is in charge of lights and the tree skirt, Hana who’s in charge of the ornaments for the bottom half of the tree, and you in charge of the other half plus the tinsel. Two maids join you, helping Hana get the wire around the ornaments to hang them, and also helping vacuum away the pieces of pine that had fallen on its movements inside. Within an hour, the tree is finished, and you join Hana on the couch as Yoongi moves towards the outlet. 

With a click, the tree is illuminated, casting a soft golden glow throughout the home that’s now starting to have a couple of gloomy shadows because of the time. The maids have moved onto the kitchen now, starting dinner while Hana snuggles up to your side on the sectional. 

Yoongi returns from the kitchen with a mug of something, and hands it to you, sitting a couple seats away. “Thank you sir,” you say, and wrap both hands around the warm ceramic, breathing in the sweet aroma of the hot chocolate he’s given you. 

“No,” he says, crossing his leg, “thank you. The first day was a massive success. She’s so tired,” He chuckles, and you look down with a smile at Hana who’s already beginning to doze off into the crook of your arm. You meet his smiling eyes with a blush, and look down into the mug instead. 

He just looked...so handsome whenever he smiled. You wished he would smile more.

Yoongi watches you tuck his daughter into bed, as he lingers by the doorway. He’s always missed this part of his daughter’s life, honestly, always being at work until it was too late and the maids had already tucked her in, or always too tired from fighting with his ex-wife to be able to make it home on time. 

You, however, don’t betray any of the tiredness from the entire day, and instead smooth the hairs back from Hana’s face, whispering good night to the little girl as you bring the small pink covers up to her chin. When you turn to leave the room, Yoongi’s already near his office. 

He’d...always admired your work ethic. You were bright, and fast on your feet, quick-learning, and polite no matter what. He’d had too many experiences with past secretaries who lost their initial drive or their integrity, being either too tempted by the riches that he had to maintain their professional relationship and trying to seduce him to no result. It was always a mess, until you, maybe a couple years out of college, came along and stuck. 

But as he watches you quietly click Hana’s door shut behind you, he realizes he knows absolutely nothing about you, even after working closely for three entire years. He clears his throat, and watches as your chin darts up as you turn towards the noise. 

“Is she asleep?” He asks, and you smile gently, nodding and walking over. 

“Do you need anything else?” You ask, your hands folded politely in front of you. 

He shrugs. “Care to join me in my study?” You nod, and he turns into his room. Your mouth falls agape at the beautiful room, the walls decorated with mahogany shelves lined with business books and trophies, towering up above a single desk on one side of the room, and a collection of sofas in the other. He gestures for you to take a seat, and you do, holding the mug of hot chocolate he gave you before. The plate of leftover cookies you and Hana made is on the coffee table, so you grab one, nibbling on the edge. 

“So what are the plans for tomorrow?” Yoongi asks, eyes watching you carefully through his rimmed glasses. 

You smile gently, opening your phone. “I thought it was a good idea to keep her busy, instead of at home too much. We can maybe go to the mall? She wanted to take pictures with Santa.” 

He nods, chuckling a bit. “I really don’t know how I’m going to break the news to her honestly.” You giggle behind a hand too, “Don’t worry, sir. I never knew the truth until it was too late..” and Yoongi catches the fact. “I...don’t really know much about you, do I?” He asks, and the question lingers as  you process what he’s trying to say. 

“Sir?” 

“Yoongi,” he corrects, “I’m saying, tell me more about yourself. We’ve been working for three whole years, and I’ve never really got to know much about you, other than the fact that my daughter seems to be in love with you.” 

You shyly laugh, sipping the hot chocolate. “Ah, well, other than the things on my resume, I’m not a very interesting person.” You say, thumbs twiddling on the handle of the mug. “Is there anything you’d like to know in particular?” 

Yoongi hesitates. “Ah, well, what do you want to do, eventually?” 

You think thoughtfully, “Hm, before I got this job, I wanted to go into law maybe. I also had thoughts about going into the wedding industry, as a planner as well. To be honest,” you say, a bit embarrassed, “I didn’t expect to get this job, neither did I expect to stay.” 

Yoongi hums, nodding slowly. “I’m glad you did. Do you have any holiday plans? It’s Christmas Eve the day after tomorrow, isn’t it?” 

You nod. “I’m flying back home to my parents’ to see my family, but I’m a bit worried. There’s a blizzard expected to come soon, and my flight might be cancelled.” 

He chuckles, “Well, I hope that doesn’t happen, but if it does, you’re welcome to enjoy your christmas here.” He coughs, “I-if you’d want, that is. I wouldn’t want to burden you or anything.”

“Oh. No, no! You’re not burdening at all,” you reassure, smiling. “I really enjoy spending time with Hana. She’s adorable and I love children.” 

Yoongi nods, smiling. “Speaking of which, are you in a relationship?” 

The question catches you a bit off guard. “Mm,” you muse, wondering whether or not to tell the whole story. “I..I got out of a bad relationship, two years ago.” Yoongi raises his brows thoughtfully, and you hum. “Yeah, he...he cheated on me, and to be honest, I’ve just not been interested in dating again ever since.” 

“Oh,” Yoongi muses, “I’m sorry about that. That’s horrible.” 

“Well, same boat right?” You try, and Yoongi chuckles.

“If you can even call it a boat. I’d say it’s a shipwreck, of emotionally disturbed and hurt people.” At your laughs, he smiles, sipping his own mug. “No, I-....I don’t regret, what happened. The divorce and all, because without all those years, I would have never had Hana, and I would have never learned the things I learned. I just want her to be happy. She’s all I have.” 

You soften, a soft smile lingering on your lips. “Oh, Yoongi, Hana adores you.” You reassure. “She cares for you so much, and I’m sure she’s gonna grow into a strong little girl. You’re doing a great job.” 

He gives you a sad smile, shaking his head. “I try to tell myself stuff like that, but...to be honest it’s just realistic to say that I missed the first few years of her life. All those important moments, of her first words and first time walking and crawling and all that...all because I was too busy.” 

“No, no,” you move a bit closer on your own chair to place a reassuring hand over his arm. His eyes linger on your hand. “You were doing the best that you can, and she’ll understand it. And the important thing is, you’re also doing your best now, and she loves it so much. These next few days are going to be so precious for her.” His eyes peel from your hand on his forearm to yours, smiling gently. “Thank you, Y/N,” he murmurs, “I wouldn’t have done this without your help.”

That night, smiles linger on both of your lips as you fall asleep. 

Day 2

“Oh, you’re awake,” Yoongi muses as you step into the kitchen. 

You gape a little at the scene in front of you. He’s dressed...in an apron, left hand on the handle of a frying pan and the right with a spatula, expertly cooking a delicious-looking omelette. 

“Come,” he gestures to the dining table, “Sit. I’m almost finished.” 

“S-sir?” You stammer, rounding the island to peer over at what else he’s prepared, and already there’s two other omelettes steaming hot, with toast, avocados, and a bowl of fruits. 

He chuckles a bit, still working on his food, “I figured since the ladies cooked yesterday, that I should step in and do something as well. Here, go take a seat.” 

You shake your head, “Let me help you set the table. I’ll go wake Hana up too.” 

“Thank you,” he adds, flipping the omelette expertly as you take the plates to the dining table and pad upstairs to bring Hana down. Getting her prepared for the morning is easy, as she rubs her cute puffy eyes and sleepily brushes her teeth obediently. But as soon as she’s a bit more aware, she’s bounding downstairs, throwing her arms around her father’s legs, and grinning up at him. 

Yoongi laughs, setting down the plate he was holding and pulling Hana up into his arms. “How did my baby sleep?” 

She giggles and screams as he peppers her cheeks with kisses. “Good daddy!” 

He sets her in her chair and holds yours out for you. Always a gentleman. 

“Thank you,” you answer with a smile, and begin eating. He’d prepared his wonderful coffee as well. 

The breakfast is simple, but delicious, and you enjoy it, giggling with Hana and Yoongi who chuckles along. 

“Y/N, I really think you have the skills to make it as a big planner,” Yoongi comments, when Hana focuses on eating. 

You raise your brows, fork in mid-air. “Sorry?” 

He clears his throat, taking a sip of coffee and resting his elbows on the table as he zeroes in on you. “You have a knack for planning things and organizing things. You mentioned you wanted to be a wedding planner? I think you’d be great at it.” 

You shyly smile, “Thank you sir.” 

He nods, thinking to himself. “I...I think I want to put you in charge of a new coming project we have for Min corps.” 

Your eyes widen, “Which project?” 

He shakes his head, “You haven’t heard much of it from administration, because it’s just something I’ve been brainstorming on the side, but I think the company wants to expand outside of just technology, and into more family-friendly initiatives. I think you’d be a great contribution to the round table discussions we’ve been having, and I’d like to put you in charge of a few projects within those upcoming ideas. As long as you’re up to it, of course.” 

“S-sir...” you stammer, “C-could I get some more to think about it? I don’t know if I would be able to handle all the administrative work plus the works of the projects..” 

He shakes his head, “You wouldn’t be doing both, actually. You’d transfer completely.” He assesses your confused expression and chuckles a bit. “It’s going to be quite difficult finding a great assistant such as yourself, but I’ve seen the way you’ve grown in this company, and I think this would be a great stepping stone for you to eventually get into the area of expertise that you want to do.” 

Your phone rings in the middle of it, and you eye Yoongi’s response. He nods, and you excuse yourself to answer the call from Mr. Kim Namjoon, the CFO of the company. 

“Yes, sir?” You answer, padding towards your room to grab the company iPad you have. 

“Y/N, are you with Yoongi right now?” Mr. Kim seems a bit out of breath. 

“Yes, I am. Do you need to speak with him?” 

“Yeah, he’s not picking up his phone. I think he needs to come here.” You hurry back towards the direction of the dining room. “Alright, I’m going right now. May I ask what it’s about?” 

He breathes out a big frustrated sigh. “Yoongi’s wife is here.” 

“I put a restraining order on you coming to my house, so you show up to the company?” Yoongi glares, eyebrows set heavily over his sharp gaze, at the woman sitting ten feet away from him. 

After the call, he’d rushed to get dressed, and you helped Hana get dressed as you all got in the company car and rushed over. Hana was with a couple other secretaries outside, and Yoongi asked you to join him in his office, with his wife, Namjoon, and Namjoon’s own assistant, Jungkook. The company lawyer also lingered in the corner. The three of you sat next to your supervisors on the couches, while Jooyeon sat haughtily at the opposite end of Yoongi. 

She crosses her legs, twisting her blood red lips in a snarl. “Well, you should have picked up my calls then.” She sneers. “I want to see Hana.” 

Yoongi rubbed his temples. “We agreed with the lawyers that I would get christmas, and you would get new years. That was the deal.” 

She picks at her long nails, also painted blood red. “I changed my mind. I want Christmas.” 

Yoongi gives the lawyer a look and the man, Seokjin, pipes up. “According to Section B appendix 2.6, Ms. Kim Jooyeon will cede Min Hana to the father, Min Yoongi on the days of Christmas, marked as December 20th to the 25th. Foregoing the 25th, Mr. Min Yoongi will cede Min Hana to the mother, Ms. Kim Jooyeon for New Years, marked as December 26th to January 1st. Any changes to these agreements cannot be applied, according to the requirements of Appendix J.” He nervously glances back at Yoongi who seems haggard. 

Jooyeon glares at the young lawyer and uncrosses her legs, leaning forward in the leather seat. “I told you what I want. You either give her to me for Christmas, or...” she glances around at the guests who all look at her with disdain, “Or I make a scene, right in the center of your property. Public property, may I add,” she remarks, smirking at the disgusted audience in the room. “I’ll ruin your Christmas with your little mistress.” She sneers, eyes sliding over and settling on you. 

You’re about to protest in absolute shock when a BAM echoes throughout the office, and Mr. Min stands, hands shaking as he gets up from his leather seat. “How dare you,” he snarls, “threaten to ruin my Christmas with my daughter.” The anger rolls off of him. He doesn’t raise his voice over an inside-voice volume, but the words speak for themselves. “Didn’t you have enough already? You sue me for alimony, you get half of the year with my daughter, and you still want more?” 

She’s unfazed, relaxed in her seat, dainty legs crossed again underneath the expensive silk dress and fur coat she wears. “Min Yoongi, I’ve never seen you so angry. Perhaps you do have an attachment to the measly secretary of yours, after all? You pathetic liar.”

You dart your eyes to her. After all? What did that mean? Mr. Min responds before you can even dwell on the comment. 

“Get out of my office,” he warns with clenched teeth. “One wrong move, Jooyeon, one more threat to my daughter, and I’m going to expose everything you’ve done wrong.” 

She laughs, arranging her coats around her, and collecting her expensive handbag with a leather-glove-clad hand. You wondered how much her entire outfit cost. Probably a year’s worth of your salary. “As if,” she chuckles. “You would never, Yoongi. You’ve always been too soft.” 

She saunters out of the office, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Yoongi crumples into the sofa behind him, hand falling on his hand. Jungkook and the lawyer exit, and Namjoon just sighs and pats Yoongi on the shoulder before leaving as well. He gestures for you to follow. 

When outside, he whispers lowly to you and Jungkook, and Seokjin. “I want you three to get rid of her.” he murmurs, “restraining orders, suing, damage control, call the cops I don’t care.” He rolls his eyes. “She can’t always string around our CEO like that. It’s not good for him or Hana, and it’s worse for the company. Take care of it, by any means necessary. Alright?” The three of you nod, and Namjoon gives you a solemn nod before walking away with Jungkook and Seokjin. 

You’re mulling over what just happened when Hana comes bounding up to you, her small arms wrapping around your calves and her chin resting on your thigh. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” 

You smile, kneeling down to meet her level. “What do you mean Hana? I’m fine.” 

She puts a tiny hand on your cheek. “You look a little sad.” 

You grin at her, smoothing her cute little pigtails back. “Oh, no. Hana, I’m really good. See?” You spread your arms out wide, and she giggles, nestling into them to give you a big hug. You hated how Jooyeon talked about Hana like a liability, a legal object. She didn’t deserve any of it. “Do you want to go see daddy?” You offer, and she nods. You tuck your iPad under your arm and lift her up, dismissing the other secretaries and knocking on Mr. Min’s door. 

“Sir?” There’s no answer. 

“Daddy!” Hana tries, and immediately you see through the window that Yoongi composes himself, rubbing a hand over his face and hair to straighten himself up and put on a smile. It breaks your heart. 

“Come in sweetie!” 

You let her down as soon as you enter, and she bounds over to jump into his arms. Maybe it’s the way he didn’t have enough time to style his hair, or the way his necktie is loosened haphazardly, but he just looks so exhausted and tired. You turn, silently trying to exit when he calls your name.

“Y/N?” 

You turn and meet his gaze. “Yes, sir?” 

“Arrange a casual outfit and the car, let’s go do something that’ll get my mind off of all of this.” He says, grinning down at Hana. When he looks back up at you, his eyes are filled with tiredness and a sadness that you know all too well. You bow politely, “Of course sir. I’ll prepare all of that immediately.” 

The outfit is placed in his office and the car parked in the entrance within 10 minutes, and you’re changing in your own office with your phone tucked between your shoulder and ear to make dinner reservations and ride arrangements. 

Within 15, the both of you are out of the company doors and in the car again, with Yoongi at the wheel, and Hana nestled in your lap in the backseat. She dozes off, and the car settles with a heavy silence. 

“Are you alright?” His voice sounds from the front. 

“Hm? What do you mean?” You wonder, meeting his eyes in the rear view. 

He hesitates. “I’m sorry about what she said about you. She’s absolutely horrid.” 

You smile. “It’s alright. I don’t mind. Are you alright, sir?” 

He shrugs. “I’m think this whole situation is just really sad.” He laughs forlornly, eyes still on the road. “How did I even think that being civil with her was a good idea?” 

“I still respect that you did that, sir. It’s a difficult thing to do, to try and maintain your respect to someone even after their actions cause you to lose all of it.” You trail off, thinking of how you often saw your ex-boyfriend at friend events. Of how you had to just bite back a snap whenever the stupid little girlfriend of his, and your old co-worker, smiles a knowing little grin at you whenever she can. 

He meets your eyes in the rear view and he notices the sadness in your eyes. But the both of you don’t dwell on it as he pulls into the little village that you’d input into the GPS. 

“Is...this a christmas village?” 

“Yes!” You grin at him, helping the groggy Hana unbuckle her seat belt, “And we’re gonna enjoy everything about it and forget.” You get out of the car with Hana in your arms, and Yoongi grabs the stuff from the backseat as well. 

You pay for the tickets, and walk in, immediately surrounded by fake snow and little themed shops with beautiful lights and pine trees. In the speakers, a jazzy upbeat christmas song plays, and all around there are other toddlers with their families gazing wondrously up at the workers dressed in elf-outfits handing out candy and little trinkets to everyone. 

Hana squeals and you let her down as she kneels down to scoop a handful of the snow in her mittens. She throws it up around her, and she drags both of you to look at the displays shown in the park. 

Hours pass, riding themed rides around the park and taking the train to tour the perimeter, going through a couple shops here and there to buy little snacks and matching reindeer ears for all three of you. By the time it’s starting to get darker and the sun goes down, the christmas lights begin to twinkle on one by one, and Hana tugs at your hands, “Please, can we go meet Santa? Please?” She blinks up cutely at you, and you turn to Yoongi. “Ask your daddy too!” 

She jumps over to him. “Please daddy? With a cherry on top and sprinkles too? Please please please?” He laughs, nodding at her. “How could I say no to that? Go ahead, lead the way.” She laughs, grinning widely, and grabs both your hands to go down the main road towards where a fake Santa sits on his chair near the huge main Christmas tree. 

It’s a bit of a line, so you let Hana go play while you stand in line with the other parents. It’s a bit chilly, and you shiver a bit in your coat as you shuffle on your feet. 

Suddenly, a soft fabric is wrapped around your neck, and you stop and turn to Yoongi, who’s focused on putting the scarf you prepared for him earlier around your neck instead. “S-sir,” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“Sh. It’s freezing out here, and it’s only gonna get colder. Here.” He finishes the wrap, tying it in the front and patting it down a bit to show your face more. 

“It’s really okay...” You trail off, but he just grins. “It’s the least I could do for the past two days.” 

You grin at him behind the scarf, even though he probably can’t see it, and together you both awkwardly turn again to the line, which has gotten shorter. Hana bounds over, and tugs on your sleeve. “Is it our turn yet?” 

You grin at her, “Maybe a couple more minute! Are you ready to take a picture with Santa too?” 

She nods, “Can you braid my hair?” 

You grin, tucking your purse behind as you bend a little to grip her pigtail. You begin plating her little tails when you see Yoongi grab one and begin braiding as well. “You know how you braid?” You blurt, watching him expertly move each piece of hair around eachother. 

He grins down at you with a little mischievous smirk. “Don’t look so surprised, I’m a man of many talents.” 

You laugh a little as his finishes, and by then it’s Hana’s turn. You dust off the snow that’s settled on her shoulders and straighten her coat before she bounds up the little cobblestone walkway that they’ve created for the children up to Santa. She bounces on his lap and begins chattering away while you and Yoongi linger near the photo-taking area. You prepare your camera, and then Santa calls out, “Does little Hana want a picture with all her family?” 

“Yes!” She laughs, gesturing for Yoongi to come. You smile as he immediately strides over, standing behind the large man with an awkward smile, and you laugh, “Stand a little closer to him, Yoongi!” 

Santa interrupts you, “Do you want your momma to be in the picture too?” He offers to Hana, and she grins, immediately calling out to you, “Mommy! Come here!” 

Both you and Yoongi freeze at the name she calls you, and your eyes dart to her expecting face, probably unaware that she’s even slipped, and the stunned expression on Yoongi’s face. You stammer, “Um, I--” The worker behind you steps up to you with a smile, holding out his hand to take your camera. 

“Hurry!” Hana yells, and that seems to jump Yoongi out of his trance, for he locks eyes with and gives you a shy smile, and a nod. You hesitantly give the camera to the elf worker and step up to the podium with a shy smile, standing on the other side of Santa. 

“Aw, can the husband please scooch a bit closer to his wife? Put an arm around her!” The elf worker waves a hand at Yoongi. You shake your hands, “Oh, we’re not--” 

Yoongi closes the two strides between you two and wraps a strong arm around your shoulder. “It’s too complicated,” he explains lowly, and flashing a stunning smile at the camera. You hesitate, but he smells so good and feels so warm and right with the hand on your shoulders that you just settle down and flash a smile. 

“Okay! Perfect! What a beautiful family there! 3...2...1!” 

Day 3

“Oh my god Daddy! You got me the barbie dreamhouse?! Thank you thank you thank you thank you!” Hana squeals as the three of you sit around the base of the Christmas tree. You’re clad in leggings and a big Christmas sweater, courtesy of the maids you befriended during your stay. Hana’s still in her pajamas, and you see Yoongi wearing sweatpants and a crewneck for the first time. 

She insisted on all three of you wearing the same cute antler headbands you bought at the Christmas village yesterday. 

“Okay, now this one!” She leans down and she thrusts it out to Yoongi to read the little sticker. “To Hana, from Y/N,” he reads, and glances at you. You smile, and encourage her to open it. 

She tears the packaging open, and screams right out loud making you and Yoongi cringe while smiling happily. “Makeup?!” 

You laugh, helping her tear the rest of the wrapping paper off. “You always liked watching me do my makeup in the morning, so I decided to get you a little set of your own!” 

She laughs, sifting through the fake toddler makeup products with the same glee that you get when you walk through the makeup aisles at Sephora. “Oh yes!” She groans, “Can we put it on together?” 

You hesitate, wondering how to put the news. “I...uh-”

“Pleeaaassseee?” She begs, sticking out her lower lip. You wondered where she learned that. There was no way she learned it from Yoongi. You could never imagine the proper CEO doing something as childish like that. But yet...you wondered. 

Shaking your head from the thoughts, you stroke her hair softly with a sad expression. “I’m sorry Hana, but today’s actually my last day. I gotta go home later today.” 

She pauses, and immediately you see the way her expression begins to crumble and the mouth is turned into a permanent frown that opens up into a wail and--- “Noooooooo!” She begins bawling, and you’re stunned, surprised at the reaction and panicked, glance at Yoongi who’s also as stunned as you are. 

You immediately reach out to gather her in your arms, cooing as she cries and cries and cries into your arm, clutching your sweater with her tiny little hands. “Please,” she blubbers, “Stay here. I don’t want you to go!” She cries loudly, and you shush her softly, patting her back until she’s done crying. 

“I’m sorry baby, I have my own family I have to see. I’ll come visit as much as you want though.” You offer, and she wipes her nose with a sleeve, dragging her tears and snot across her face. You crack a small smile at the sight, using your own sleeve to wipe the excess. “Really?” She hiccups, eyes red and lip still pouting. 

“Yes,” you encourage, patting her back. “That’ll be my next Christmas present, a promise,” you hold out your pinky finger and she looks down and takes it, wrapping her entire fist around it. You laugh, “A promise that I’ll play with you whenever you want, as long as you want, as long as your daddy’s okay with it.”

She takes the deal, dropping your pinky to wrap her arms around your neck tightly. “Okay.” She whispers. 

Twenty minutes later the tired little toddler is fast asleep again in your arms. She’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep last night, too excited about Santa’s arrival to go to bed, and had woken up the first thing in the morning to open the presents. Yoongi pads over to hand you a cup of coffee as she dozes on your lap on the couch. 

“Thank you,” you say, sipping the delicious liquid. His coffee was absolutely your favorite at this point. 

“No,” he says lowly, eyeing you from the other side of the couch. “Thank you. Without your help, she wouldn’t have had this much fun.” 

“Oh,” you say, staring down at the cup. “no, she had a lot of fun because you were willing to take the time to do so.” 

He chuckles, taking another sip. “Ah, still always humble.” 

You grin at that, but you cant figure out what to say, so he tries again. “I...got you something.” He says, standing and jostling a few branches aside to grab a small package from underneath the tree. He stands and hands it to you. 

“Oh...Sir, you shouldn’t have.” 

“Yoongi,” he corrects, and you nod shyly. “Yoongi...I can’t take this.” 

“You haven’t even opened it yet.” He remarks, gesturing for you to go ahead. 

You carefully take apart the wrapping paper, which was wrapped precisely, and it reveals a beautiful set of diamond earrings and a matching dainty necklace. You gasp, eyes widening at the beautiful set in front of you, and give Yoongi a look. “Yoongi, I--” 

“I noticed,” he interrupts, “that you’ve been wearing the same pair since two years ago, which I remember to be the Christmas present that I got the female members of the entire administrative team.” He doesn’t look up at you, his finger tracing the rim of his mug. “I wanted...to get you something special, but I wasn’t sure of what you liked.” 

You touch the studs that are on your ear now, which are tiny diamond embedded in white gold. He was right, he’d gotten you and four other your other co workers the same diamond earrings. The three males had gotten expensive cuff links and tie clips. This set of earrings and a necklace however, made the ones you had on now pale in comparison. 

They were stunning diamonds, square and brilliant, embedded in white gold. The chain of the necklace was so dainty and thin, almost like a thread, but was incredibly strong. There were smaller tinier diamonds surrounding all three of the main sets, and they weren’t too flashy, but beautiful enough to go with anything and everything. They probably costed a tiny fortune. 

You set your lips in a grim line. “Yoongi...you know I can’t accept this.” 

“Please,” he says, standing from his seat on the couch, and walking over. “It’s a present. Please accept it, it’s the least I could do for everything you’ve done for the past few days. And years, actually.” He quips, taking the necklace from its placing within the leather case, and kneels with a knee on the couch to lean down, and move the ends of the chain past your neck and hook it behind. 

He leans so close, you can smell his actual scent, the one usually hidden behind his amazing cologne, a smell that is so distinctly home-y and him and wonderful all at the same time. His collarbone hovers in your sight and it’s the most you’ve seen of him, white milky skin descending from his neck into his sweater. When he finishes, he takes a small movement back to look at it on you.

“It’s a perfect fit,” he grins, and lifts his gaze to look at you. Face inches away from yours, he stops, just gazing into yours. 

Everything seems to stop for a moment, and you just hesitate as he lingers on your face. You can practically count his eyelashes from here, which you notice are incredibly dark and long. His dark hair frames his eyes that peer down at you with a sense of curiosity and a darkness that you can’t decipher. His lips are so tempting, and his cheeks are so white and milky you just want to reach out and touch him. His gaze drops quickly to your lips as well, and if you just leaned a bit--

“I should go,” you stammer, breaking the silence and blinking awkwardly as you turn your face and move Hana a bit so you can stand up. Thankfully, she curls up on the couch, and you tuck the little throw over her better as you gather the box and your phone. “It’s getting late and I need to pack.” 

Yoongi clears his throat, also taking a couple steps back. “O-of course, yes.” He hesitates. “Wai--”

But you leave quickly, tears stinging in your eyes as you bound up the stairs to your room. You shut the door behind you, back against it as you look at the beautiful room around you, and the way your clothes and things were spread out like you live here. 

What a joke, you think, bitter tears falling from your eyes. What a cruel joke. To think that any of this was real, to think that it was possible. After two years of healing, after getting hurt so deep it prevented you from being hopeful about relationships and love for two entire years of your life, you ended up falling for the one person, that you could never dare to wish for. 

What a cruel, cruel Christmas joke.

Packing doesn’t take too long. You didn’t have much to begin with anyway.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride to the airport?” Yoongi says, lingering in the doorway. 

You smile at him. “Your chauffeur is enough, sir.” He quirks a brow but doesn’t correct you on his name. “Thank you for everything.” 

“I’ll....keep in touch, Y/N. Enjoy your holidays. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for everything.” 

“It’s fine. I’m just...doing my job,” you say, a small smile on your lips. You see his face fall at the last part in disappointment? Annoyance? You’re not sure. Nonetheless, you turn and get into the back of the car, shutting the door behind you. 

“Ready?” Hoseok says, and you nod. He starts the engine and begins to pull out of the driveway.

You know the back windows are tinted so heavily you can’t see into them. So you give yourself a break, and let yourself watch him as you drive away. 

He never closes the door until you can’t see him anymore. 

Dec 31st, 11:37 PM 

“Uh, sis, you okay?” Your brother appears in the dining room, where you’ve huddled up by yourself in the corner with a half-finished bottle of wine. “You’re a bit more miserable-looking than usual.” He hesitates at the buffet table that’s been mostly cleared out, poking at the leftover pieces of chicken with his chopsticks. 

You turn your bleary gaze at him. “Shut up,” You honk, taking a swig of wine. “You don’t know anything.” 

“Woah woah woah,” he says, wrestling the bottle away from you. “Are those yours too?” He looks at the other wine bottle and empty glasses of celebratory champagne on the table next to you. “Yes-pfhh,” you blurt out, blubbering a protest as he takes those away too and places them far in the kitchen, out of your drunken reach. “Hey,” you accuse him, sticking out your lower lip. “Those were mine.” 

“You’re a mess,” he breathes out, nibbling on a cookie. “What the hell happened to you?” 

You sigh, teary-eyed as your parents and their adult friends laugh about something stupid in the living room, watching TV as they wait for the new years count down. “Everything,” you wail, eyes filling with tears as you push around a piece of meat on your finished plate. “Everything is wrong and I hate love.” 

“Huh, same.” He snorts, and composes himself when he sees your teary glare. “Um, well, why? I haven’t seen you like this since, well...since him.” 

“I know,” you wail, “And that’s why I’m so sad. Because I’ve never felt this way since him, and now I’ve fallen for the one guy I can’t have.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Min.”

“Oh fuuuccckkk...” Taehyung drawls. 

You glare at him again and chuck the piece of meat at him. It misses, and flies somewhere near the flower vase. “Not helping!” You bleat, collapsing into tears and blubbering nonsense again. 

“Well, as much as I’d like to shove it in your face that you’ve fallen into the cliche of a secretary and her boss, kinky by the way,” he remarks, dodging another piece of meat, “you’re also my fuckin’ sister and it’s my job as a bro to tell you to just go get it.” 

“And lose my job?” You laugh bitterly. “He doesn’t even like me.”

“I thought he invited you over for three nights to help with his daughter or something. Men wouldn’t do that if he didn’t have interest.” 

You laugh bitterly, “Well all men don’t have daughters and crazy ex-wives fighting for custody, and a secretary who just happens to be that daughter’s favorite person.” 

“Well, at least the daughter likes you. That’s a first step.” He tries. 

“Well, I’m not gonna date his daughter, Tae. Not helping.” You groan, and he rolls his eyes.

“Okay, I’m just trying to say, that you’re gonna regret it if you don’t ever say anything.” He says, looking at you with pity. You hated it. Hated the look of pity, hated your stupid brother, and hated that he was right. “You’re just gonna keep working for him like a little lost puppy always giving him sad eyes and awkward smiles because he was the one who you let get away and you never tried your shot.” 

“He hates when people cross professional boundaries, Tae,” you complain, “He’s had to fire so many secretaries in the past because they tried gold digging him.” 

“Well, you’re not gold digging, for one.” Tae muses, “and even though your my gross sister, you’re probably not as low as those secretaries were with their bad intentions of trying to get at him.” 

You don’t say anything and he throws his hands up with a frustrated sigh. “Look, sis. He’s single, and he’s ready to mingle. He invites you over for three nights, you have a blast and now you’re all sad because you like him. Just do it, just tell him how you feel. If he likes you back, then you’ll figure something out. If he doesn’t, then he’ll politely decline or fire you, which actually is the better situation cause then you won’t have to suffer through your awkward pining and just get it over with and start over somewhere else.” 

“I don’t want to start somewhere else,” You sputter, blearing up at him through wet lashes. He groans. “Okay, you’re being so extra annoying today, but you do you, okay? You just better not blame me for your hangover and regrets tomorrow. C’mon, the count down is starting soon.” 

He drags you to the television screen and you wipe your tears in the corner as all your parents’ friends begin counting down. 

“5!....4!....3!....2!.....1!....HAPPY NEW YEARS!” Confetti pops into the air and glasses are clinked all around as everyone hugs eachother and welcomes 2019. 

You take another swig of a beer bottle that’s sitting on the couch. 

That’s all you remember before passing out.

“Sis? Yo, Y/N. Yoooo bitchass fatty, wake the fuck up,” The voice in your head gets louder and louder until it’s yelling right in your ear and shaking your body with a foot planted perfectly on your back. 

“Ow!” You mutter, glaring up at the culprit. Immediately the sun hits your eyes and you cringe, grimacing at the noise and visual stimulation. “Oh god,” you cringe, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please turn down the lights.” 

“Its morning you moron, it’s the sun.” Taehyung laughs at you, and you cringe at the sound of his voice too. Ugh, god, wine drunk was the worst kind of drunk. “You should really get up though,” He says again. 

“Why?” You whine, “let me sleep for a little more.” 

“Uh...I don’t really know how to tell you this, but your boss is here.” 

“Mhm,” you mutter, already sort of dozing off. “Wait,” you lift your head, eyes widening, “What did you just say?!” 

“S-sir! W-what are you doing here?” You say, as you bang the door open. You’d tried cleaning yourself up a little, brushing your hair back and washing your teeth and face, but it definitely did not prepare you for the bright morning sun that attacked your pupils. “Ugh,” you cringe at the brightness, and Yoongi chuckles. 

“A little hungover, Y/N?” He quips, grinning. 

“Do...do you want to come in?” You offer, glancing behind you at the mess your parents made. “Sorry it’s a mess, we had a new years party. Or actually, my parents did.” 

He grins at you, stepping in and surveying the small living room. His gaze lingers on you knowingly and you peer at him curiously, confused. 

He settles on a couch that doesn’t have spilled drinks or too much confetti on it and you sit across from him. “Uh, so...” you begin, unsure of where to start. “How can I help you?” 

“Do you...” he begins, grinning widely. Why was he smiling so much? “Do you remember anything from last night, Y/N?” 

You frown, brows furrowing. “Uh, well I had dinner at my parents’ new years party, we had a few drinks, did the countdown, and partied some more.” 

“Anything else, that happened, like, maybe a couple minutes after the countdown?” 

“No, why do you ask?” 

He chuckles, rustling through his pockets to fish out his phone. He scrolls through it quickly, and taps something, and then puts it on speakerphone for the both of you to hear the filtered sound of your wailing voice come through the speakers.

“I swore that I would never fall for you,” Your voice bleats through the speakers, laden with hiccups and a bleariness that indicates you crying. “I never wanted to, because you don’t like gold diggers and I’m--hic!---I’m not a gold digger but I’m your secretary and your helper, like an elf helper, and you wouldn’t want to date an eLF!”

“How come?! How come I end up falling for the one guy I can’t have....I tried so hard, to keep my distance and be professional and call you “Mr Min” or “Sir” instead of Yoongi because it seemed to close. I suck and everything sucks and now I’m gonna get fired and die on the streets all because I can’t keep my dick in my pants for the hot young single CEO I work for.” You bleat, finishing off the phone call with a hiccup, and then a click to indicate your completion. 

A snort in the hallway shows that Taehyung has indeed, definitely heard everything, and your jaw almost hits the floor. Hands around your gaping mouth you stammer, “I-I-I...I’m s-so sorry, oh my god, I-I didn’t m-mean to! I swear, oh my god I’m so sorry, it wasn’t-- I’m not--” 

“Y/N” 

“I swear I just say random things when I’m drunk, and especially wine drunk and I--”

“Y/N,” he tries again, gently. 

“--And then the countdown happened and then I might have tried some beer, but I don’t even remember holding my phone, and I swear it was all a huge joke and oh my god I totally understand if you want to fire me for being unprofessional and--” 

“Y/N!” Yoongi demands, striding up to you and kneeling in front of you. He holds the wrists of your hands that are covering your mortified face and brings them down onto your lap. “Will you listen to me for a second?” 

You face him with a worried expression. “Yes?” 

“Why do you think I’m here, 300 miles away from my own home, sitting here in your family home?” 

“You wanted to fire me? Face to face?” 

He laughs, a hearty ones, a smile that crinkles his eyes and shows his gums and makes your heart flutter in a way that kind of makes you want to kiss and kind of what to throw up. That might be the wine though. 

“No,” he laughs, looking up at you adoringly. “Because as soon as I heard this message in the morning, I got on the first flight here, and asked your friend Jisoo for the address. I needed to see you to tell you that, I felt the same way.” 

“Wh-what? You--,” You stammer, unable to form a comprehensive sentence. “I-- what?” 

He laughs again. “I...didn’t know how to bring it up to you, especially after hearing that you weren’t really looking for anything. And I didn’t want to burden you either, being your workplace superior and all, and with Hana too. I didn’t know how to bring it up, I haven’t really asked anyone out in years. And I didn’t want to mess it up, but, here I am.” He grins up at you, his fingers twisting in between your own. Tears are streaming down your face. From what, you’re not really sure why. 

“I wish I was the first to admit my feelings, but this will do. I want to tell you that I adore you, as my secretary, as a friend, and as a woman. You are so incredibly hardworking, kind, honest, and genuine. You love my daughter and she loves you, and from the years we’ve been working together to the days that we’ve spent together recently, I’ve only ever grown in my respect and adoration for you. So, if you’re up to it, of course, let’s just go to coffee or something. Just you and me,” he shakes his head, “No work, no other obligations, just as a man and a woman, getting to know each other. You know, on a date.”

You’re crying and blubbering and absolutely ugly, but you still manage a tiny “of course,” and he’s laughing and hugging you close, stroking your hair and wiping your tears, exhibiting a softness you never knew he had. 

Your Christmas present was a little late this year, but the best one you ever had. 

“Oh I almost forgot to mention, you also called my ex-wife and threatened her with a lawsuit and some bits of physical violence if she ever came close to Hana with her ‘materialistic, treat-your-daughter-like-an-object, fake boob and lashes wearing ass’ again. I think I’m about ready to promote you to my position.” 

Four years later

“Okay, make sure the children are dressed and ready for the christmas choir set! They wanted reindeer santa hats, so make sure they get those!” You call out, checking off the boxes on your clipboard. “Okay, and don’t forget to set up the lights for the stage! Did someone get in contact with the broadcasting station about the sponsors?!”

Your assistant, Jimin clambers up to you with a display of the cakes and treats. “Here are the snacks we’re handing out, and yes, I’ve gotten all the sponsors handled.” You look through them as he wheels them besides you, and give him a nod and thank him, and he whisks it away. He was such a great assistant.

You’re immediately wrapped up in a pair of arms. 

“Working hard?” His lips tickle your ear. Giggling, you turn and rest your chin on his chest. Pouting a bit, you sigh. “Just a few more hours, and it’ll all be finished.” 

Yoongi laughs, his hair tickling his eyes as he grins and leans down to deliver a kiss to your lips. He lingers a bit a longer than he needs to, and you raise a brow at your husband. He grins lopsidedly, “I can’t wait,” he mutters huskily, “for all of this to be over so we can get to...our business.” 

You cringe, rolling your eyes. 

“How’s Doyoung doing? Is my little prince not too stressed?” Yoongi runs a hand over your lower belly, which isn’t too swollen yet, but is showing signs of the four-month old fetus within. 

“He’s fine,” you smile gently. “His momma doesn’t even feel too sore today.” 

Yoongi smiles. “Perfect, he’s gonna be such an obedient little sucker.” He leans down and kisses you again, this time his tongue sliding suggestively over the seam of your lips. 

“Yoongi! Not now,” you whine with a laugh, and push him away. He was so clingy and needy, something you’d never expected the cold calloused businessman to be. You shoo him away. 

“Go, make yourself helpful with Hana and her choir. They still need help getting dressed.” 

He grins and jogs over, and begins helping the assistants carefully pin cute decorations to their uniforms to make it a bit more festive. 

The huge courtyard of Min Corps. is filled with people and exhibits, bustling with life and preparations for the opening Gala for the Min Corps new project. It was yours and Yoongi’s brain-child, created almost a few months after you two got married: The Min Technology Education Initiative. 

It was a schooling program designed to provide education within technology, such as extra specialized classes on computer science, business management, electrical and mechanical engineering, chemistry, math, physics, and other sciences that were helpful in the management world. It’s offered primarily to those in need who can’t afford to purchase tutors or extra academies, and for high school students who want more exposure to these kinds of professional opportunities. With the sponsorships from other companies, this program would help to fund the local orphanage, from where you and Yoongi adopted Minnie. 

Finally, the time arrives, and everything is set in order. With your husband and two daughters at your side, you all grip the red ribbon in your hands, holding scissors and get ready to cut the ribbon. 

“3.....2.....1! Merry Christmas!” Cameras flash, cheers go up, and friends and family gathered to see the way Min Corps was giving back to the community underneath your project management, all clap and hug in the spirit of the holidays. 

You smile at your husband, who squeezes your shoulder with a warm smile, and Hana bounds over to her choir to begin their performance, while Minnie shyly holds onto your fingers, like the toddler she is. 

And the four and a half of you together, (with the half human growing in your belly), you were ready to take on all the Christmases and New Years to come.

[haberdashing]

Curiosity

TMA fic, part of my Elias Feels series. Elias Bouchard and Jonathan Sims have an uncomfortable but ultimately helpful conversation.

on AO3

They were having another get-together. “They” being the weird gaggle of people who hate Jonah Magnus that Elias Bouchard had found himself growing closer to as he got used to living in 2019, that is. Georgie--who turned out to be Melanie’s girlfriend as well as her living partner, which wasn’t all that much of a surprise to Elias, really--had gotten over her cold, and they were celebrating Magnus’ death again, though this time Georgie and Melanie were hosting at their place.

Elias still felt like he didn’t quite belong in the group, for a couple reasons. For one, they all by and large shared a history that he was missing--two histories, really, one big picture and one on a more personal level. It was one thing to be told it’s 2019 now and another to catch all the new slang and jargon and references that had come to be since 1996; it was one thing to be told a tale of paranormal happenings and another to understand brief references and allusions to events and powers that he hadn’t experienced firsthand.

(Christ, he didn’t even believe in the paranormal--well, hadn’t in 1996. Even while working as James Wright’s personal secretary, and Elias had known well enough that James was a fervent believer in the supernatural, even before he’d learned that James himself was supernatural. The trick, one that Elias had honed over the years, was to get a handle on people’s expectations and preferences and follow them or flout them as best suited his own purpose, and with something as important as a potential career that often meant smiling and nodding and pretending he agreed wholeheartedly with his immediate superiors. Oh, absolutely, the supernatural is real, these statements are important, of course, now where am I supposed to file this one again?)

Also, while he had been absent for all that history, Jonah Magnus using his body had been all too present, and though everyone was at least willing to believe that he wasn’t the same guy, he could sense that it was still... awkward for them. Couldn’t blame them, he supposed, but he couldn’t help having the face and voice they associated with the asshole who’d ruined their lives, either.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise, then, that Elias was already literally as well as physically on the outskirts of things when Jon gently nudged his shoulder and whispered, “Can I have a word with you in private, Eli?”

There was something in Jon’s tone that reminded Elias uncomfortably of being taken aside by a schoolteacher after misbehaving, but then again, he wasn’t positive that that wasn’t just his imagination, that that wasn’t just Jon.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

They navigated into a side room, Elias gently smacking Jon with his cane when he tried to guide Elias’ walking a little too much for his own comfort. (Melanie was a godsend, really. She’d been through a lot of what he had, knew the right numbers to call, the right doctors to consult. He was already starting to get comfortable using a cane, though he still missed his eyesight, much as he knew that losing it was the only reason he was still around at all.)

Jon shut the door most of the way behind them, though it didn’t click all the way  shut.

“I just... learned something about you, Eli. I didn’t mean to, it just sort of... happens sometimes.”

Elias nodded numbly; he still didn’t have a clue what this was actually about, but Jon was clearly getting there soon enough.

“Something you did, specifically, except--I didn’t learn when exactly it happened, so I don’t know if it was actually you that did it, or...”

“Or Jonah Magnus in my body?”

“Quite.” Jon breathed in and out once, softly, before continuing. “If it was you, it- it’s really none of my business, I suppose-”

Elias considered making some remark about how from what he knew of Jon, something being none of his business wouldn’t necessarily stop him from investigating it just the same, but decided to stay silent and hear the rest of Jon’s statement out.

“But if it was Magnus, then I think you ought to know.”

“Right. Got it. So what is it you saw, then?” The way Jon had avoided mentioning the subject matter thus far led Elias to suspect that it was some kind of unsavory, but then, between Jonah Magnus doing all kinds of messed-up shit as him and Elias himself having done his fair share of poorly-thought-out things in his life, that didn’t really narrow things down.

“Well... let me start by saying it has to do with one Joshua Ritter. I don’t know if that name means anything to you-”

Elias could feel his face heat up, imagined that it was probably as bright of a red as Josh’s ginger hair, maybe even as dark as the freckles that were spread all across Josh’s face, across his arms, across every inch of his body, as Elias had learned first-hand when-

“Y-yes. I... I know that name. That was me.” Elias paused, considered further. “I mean, I assume it was me, depends what you saw I guess--but Josh didn’t care for the supernatural, I doubt Magnus would have any reason to, to do anything with him-”

“I saw the two of you... together.”

“You mean we were fucking?”

Jon made a weird choked noise at that, which Elias considered as a strange sort of personal success. Who’s the one feeling awkward about this conversation now, Jon?

“That’d be me, I imagine. Josh and I didn’t part on the best of terms, I doubt he’d have been interested in... doing that again.”

“I-I’m sorry, like I said, it’s none of my business really then-”

“I’m not gay, though. For what it’s worth.”

Jon had an awkward sort of cough that Elias half-suspected was feigned before saying, “Didn’t say you were.”

“I mean, I’ve had girlfriends before--Katie Sullivan in secondary, Annie White and Liz Culvert in uni, Sara Holmes after--I’m not gay.”

“First, that’s not actually proof you’re not gay, and second, there’s nothing wrong with it if you are. I mean, none of us are homophobic here--you know Georgie and Melanie are dating, right?”

“Yeah, and you and Martin probably go off and snog every chance you get, too, right?”

Jon made another one of those weird noises, having to take a few deep breaths before saying, “...guess I owe Martin a tenner now.”

“What, you made a bet about that? Seriously?”

“Martin bet me ten pounds that you’d figure out we were together without either of us having to tell you first.”

Elias snorted. “That was a sucker’s bet. I figured that out the night we met. You two aren’t as subtle as you seem to think you are.”

“Now you tell me...” Jon let out an exaggerated-sounding sigh. “You know you can be interested in guys without being gay specifically, right?”

“I mean, I guess I was a little bi-curious back then...”

“Never been a fan of that term, myself. Either you’re interested in a certain gender or you’re not. So if you had feelings for this Josh-”

He did. Oh, he did. He could still remember every word of the argument they’d had that’d ended in them breaking up, the way Josh had looked like he was halfway in between screaming and crying, slamming the door of Josh’s flat behind him and trying to pretend that his hands weren’t shaking, that he wasn’t on the verge of tears himself...

The ache of losing Josh had faded, as time went on, but Elias wasn’t sure it would ever fully go away.

“-and for those women as well, perhaps you’re simply bi, not ‘bi-curious’--or pan, for that matter-”

“Pan?”

“Pansexual. It means feeling sexual attraction towards someone regardless of their physical sex or gender identity.”

“Did you memorize that out of a dictionary, or did you just know the definition word for word when you needed it?” As Jon started to reply, Elias cut him off, saying, “It doesn’t really matter, I suppose, it’s just... it’s weird that both of those seem like real possibilities.”

“I feel like you’re trying to change the subject.”

“Look, it- it’s complicated, alright? I mean, my dad always claimed he’s fine with that stuff, but then he’d make a face and avoid it whenever it came up. I didn’t dare tell him about Josh--I don’t think he’d have, like, done anything, but... you never know, you know? Maybe I’m just not as brave as you and your- I don’t know what term you use for each other, boyfriend, partner, snog buddy-”

Elias was expecting Jon to make that awkward noise again, catch him off guard and have him stammer through a response.

Elias definitely wasn’t expecting Jon to reply gently but firmly, without even a hint of hesitation, with the single word “Husband.”

Elias’ mind reeled at the implications of that one simple word.

“Husband? Wait, you two got married--you can get married? Is that even legal?”

“It’s been legal since 2014, yes. Admittedly, our ceremony was a bit... unorthodox, given the circumstances, but it counts just the same in the eyes of the law.” Jon laughed a little before adding, “Things have changed since 1996, Eli, and not all for the worse, either.”

Elias sat there for a long moment, letting Jon’s words sink in. He thought maybe this group he’d found himself part of was just unusually understanding about... that sort of thing, but if same-sex marriage was legal, it couldn’t just be them, could it? He knew it was a different world out there than the one he was used to, but that... that was comforting, in a strange sort of way. Not that Elias saw himself rushing out into the dating scene any time soon, for a partner of any gender, but...

Elias shot Jon a weak smile as he said, “Good to know.”