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all-the-pacs · 2 years ago

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#2 - Pac-Man (1980)

If you put a conch shell up to your ear, you'll hear Pac-Man! Much less popular is putting your finger in your ear and scratching it to hear the sea.

Welcome to the 1980s, and for that matter, welcome to the genesis of Pac-Man himself! Yep, it only took us... 3 posts, but we're actually playing the original Pac-Man. No preamble, no Galaxian, no nothin'.

Now, the development of the original Pac-Man is something so, so many people have talked at length about and may as well have made their thesis. Stuff like how originally the four ghosts were all the same color, or maybe the maze being different, or other such details.

Now, that's way out of our jurisdiction as we're here to play the finished games and talk about them at length--however iconic they may be. So, our apologies in advance as this post sounds a lot like stuff you've most likely already heard thousands of times. But if we skipped this game on the principle of "we've already played it many, many times", it wouldn't feel right, y'know?

...So anyways we would like to remark that, yes, the flyer we showcased is to be trusted, and we are playing the Midway version today. Why not the Japanese original? Well, there's one good reason that's tangentially related to what we discussed above:

Yep, over in Japan, he started out as Puck Man, not Pac-Man. In fact, that's not the only character name difference, as the ghost gang were also called by completely different names in this version as well. Later on, however, as Pac-Man exploded in popularity worldwide, eventually Puck Man also turned into Pac-Man over in Japan as well. It's probably for the best, too, because remove just a little connecting line in that P, and you get a very different experience.

The starting screen for Pac-Man is about as basic as you get. 10 points for normal pellets. 50 points for the blinking Power Pellets (not pictured, as they were mid-blink). 4 characters in addition to Pac-Man, with their personalities (their "character", if you may) and nicknames displayed.

Blinky: The "shadow" of the group. He tries his best to be Pac-Man's shadow by simply targetting wherever he is, plain and simple. He likes the top right corner.

Pinky: The "speedy" one of the group. Always one step ahead, she's... well, aiming for a little bit ahead of where Pac-Man currently is. She likes the top left corner.

Inky: The "bashful" part of the group. As you can probably imagine, he doesn't care much for targetting Pac-Man alone, usually paying attention to where Blinky is and where Pac-Man is directly headed towards and making his move if Blinky's also in hot pursuit. Multi-faceted, that Inky. He likes the bottom right corner.

Clyde: The "pokey" member of the group. He doesn't really try to go for Pac-Man directly, more than he does try to play goalie for his own little portion of the maze, only dipping away from it to try and take a quick swing. He likes the bottom left corner.

You might notice I'm going into their behaviors in addition to their characters, and... Well, that's for a good reason. While Galaxian was content to have enemies act more-or-less the same way beyond two of them employing a buddy system and having slightly differing flight patterns, Pac-Man's true revolution was that it was the start of what we now know as AI in terms of gaming.

Before now, it was almost unheard of for enemies in a game to be able to look at the immediate state of the game, and react accordingly and consistently, with most early attempts at this being very rudimentary, or involving some form of turn-based. This was the first big game where enemies would respond to your inputs in real time, and man do we take that for granted nowadays.

Anyways, that start screen is similarly incredibly simple. Just one extra life like in Galaxian, but at least in this case, the scoring is a lot more dynamic than it is in Galaxian--so, y'know, it's actually possible to get it! (We jest, we jest. But we do honestly feel like in comparison to Galaxian's requirements for an extra life being way too high, Pac-Man's is a bit too low. Literally all it took was one run where we focused more on actually playing the game than grabbing screenshots for this project for us to get it trivially.)

We're gonna be real with you--from this point on, a lot of our observations are probably gonna be real banal sounding, because we've basically gone over a lot of the more complex stuff (albeit skimming over it, admittedly.) But on the extreme off-chance you aren't aware, yes, the gameplay of Pac-Man involves you being put in the center of a symmetrical maze with two tunnels to the left and right. You're able to go through those tunnels in order to circle back around to the other side of the maze. Across the maze are a bunch of little pellets/dots, as well as four Power Pellets/Energizer Pellets/Flashing Power Bait/Gaaaaah okay let's talk a little bit about this in a bit, but all you need to know is you need to eat all the dots in the maze to win the level. If the ghosts make contact, you die, and you lose a life.

Now, this is something we will make a pointed mention of now. At the start of Pac-Man, you start by moving left by default. Left! Keep this in mind for later. It will be very, very important. ...Not for this game, though, we'll only really start to care about starting by moving left later. Much later, depending on how things go.

Oh, and while we're here--if you eat a certain quantity of pellets, a Bonus Fruit will spawn in the center, right below the Ghost pen. Eat it for extra points--the higher the round, you'll be seeing different bonus fruits, and they'll be worth more and more points, up to 5000! Yep, much like most other Arcade games of the era, it's a simple "get the highest score" deal, with no finite "end" defined by the game itself. (If you're raising an eyebrow, don't worry, we'll get back to you.)

And of course, we couldn't talk about this game without talking about the Power Pellets/other names. Of course, with four enemies that all behave differently in hot pursuit, you need a little something to combat them to keep it fair. You can always outmaneuver them, but alternatively you can grab one of the four Power Pellets in the maze. By grabbing them, the ghosts will not only turn around immediately, but turn blue and try to avoid Pac-Man for a limited time. If you actually touch a ghost in this state, Pac-Man will gobble them up, leaving just their eyeballs to wander back to the ghost pen, where they will reappear as normal. This is already a great tactic for survival, but there's also a risk-reward element; the more ghosts you eat, the more points you get. 200 for the first, 400 for the second, 800 for the third, and 1600 for the fourth! Note this stacks upon itself, so if you manage to eat all 4 ghosts in one Power Pellet, you're looking at 3000 points right there.

...Oh, right. Real quick, let me get back to you on the whole "Power Pellet" naming confusion thing. See, early on, Arcade games weren't exactly powerful to display full-on information about the games just yet. Usually that'd be saved for being on the actual cabinet itself, on the sides of the screens. As a result, basically anything not in the actual game data itself was heavily, heavily susceptible to inconsistent names. The pellets didn't have a name in-game, so in the future they'd get all sorts of names, officially and unofficially. Let's just agree to call the small ones pellets and the large ones Power Pellets for the time being, okay?

Also, here's a detail some people don't know--the ghosts aren't just, all-the-time in pursuit according to their AI. On some occasions, usually at the very start of a round, they'll instead beeline for their respective corners. From there, they'll alternate between chasing after Pac-Man and playing goalie for their respective corners of the maze. This is part of what makes the ghosts seem so "erratic" in this game, as one moment they will directly target you, and the next moment they will disregard everything and instead head right for their respective patrol points.

You might be asking what happens if you eat all the pellets, and usually, it's pretty underwhelming. The maze blinks between blue and white, and then the maze resets anew, marking your progress by showing the Bonus Fruit of the current level on the rightmost spot.

Of course, something happens if you beat enough levels, unlike in Galaxian...

The Intermissions! If you clear certain rounds, the game will play these little skit cutscenes featuring Pac-Man and Blinky, set to a repeating jingle. After this, the game starts another round as you'd expect it to. The first intermission is fairly standard, with nothing much to say on it.

The second intermission, however... Is perhaps a little confusing. Maybe another one will clear things up?

Oh! While we're over here, we might as well bring this up. The first few bonus fruit are indeed fruit--Cherries, Strawberries, Oranges, Apples, then Melons--but then after those, the bonus fruit get a little more... esoteric. For example, after melons are the Flagship from Galaxian! What do you suppose that tastes like, anyways? Not pictures is that after this is a Bell, and then after that is a Key. As in, like, a standard key for a padlock! After the key, there's no change in both visuals and point values, it's just keys for days. This is also exactly why we even bothered talking about Galaxian, by the way.

As for that last intermission...

...Well then! Talk about a good ol' case of early installment weirdness, huh?

Okay, it's worth mentioning that originally, Namco and Bally Midway very insistently referred to the Ghost gang as "Monsters". Not Ghosts. Presumably, this was to cover the truth all along that the ghosts... Weren't ghosts at all! Instead, they had these weird slug designs.

However, uh, very few people actually called them monsters. People were content to just call them ghosts because, well, it moves like a ghost, it looks like a ghost, it makes a weird little "wheww-wheww" like a ghost might, they were ghosts! It seems like this concept of them secretly being these weird slug-like creatures was scrapped very early on, as we think the idea that they are very specifically ghosts crops up as early as the mid-80s--and when they did that, Namco never looked back. They didn't quite give up on the name "Monsters" so soon, and as we'll see in a bit, this didn't stop them from allowing some strange non-ghostly depictions of these guys very early on, but this angle definitely didn't last very long. Quite funny, seeing as this is basically as close to a "plot twist" the game has to offer!

Now, some of you who are aware of glitches in video games might've heard us mention the game goes on forever and hold contention with that. And to be truthful--there is, indeed, a glitch that prevents the game from lasting forever. But we've made the executive decision to discuss that at a later date. There's two reasons for that:

There's something much, much later down the road that expressly relies on knowing about this glitch anyways.

This post is going on long enough, and we think discussion of that belongs in its own post, so it can have the gravitas it deserves.

So, for the time being, we wait on it. Sorry!

...Besides, next time, we've got something much sillier. Believe it or not, this is the only 1980 game they released. Really! It took a moment for Pac-Man to really simmer and take off, and so join us next time for the start of 1981. And, uh... Not to spoil anything, but you know how we said we only brought up Galaxian because of this game? Weeeell... We might've lied a little bit...

Oh yeah. Those familiar with bootlegs might have just had a siren go off in their brain, and we're goin' there. We're already invoking our "notable bootlegs are fine" stipulation. Whether you're familiar or not, however, we'll be seein' you around!

#all the pacs #pac man #pacman #1980 #pac-man #should we tag these with hyphens we're realizing

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

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long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years ago

Text

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead.

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired.

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits.

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights.

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest.

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face.

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry.

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair.

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic?

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly.

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why.

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber.

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God.

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for.

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?”

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place.

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening.

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you.

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look.

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around.

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too.

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing.

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls.

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

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emile-hides · 4 years ago

Text

Crybaby imagines

I can’t find any BNHA X Reader blogs with their requests open, so heck it. Make the content you want to see in the world.

MHA Blonde boys react to reader crying (for various reasons)

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

1-A is an amazing bunch

It sort of just all hit you like a truck, really

How much 1-A had grown, how much they’d overcame

You’re not even entirely sure what sparked the thought process

But once it stared, you couldn’t stop

You were just so?? Proud??? Amazed???

Suddenly you were crying at your desk in the teacher’s lounge

Quiet, heavy tears

Your co-workers took notice, but it was Toshinori who approched your first asking what was wrong

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying

When you get into the why he’s all ears

He sits next to you and is soon joining in on the kid’s progress

He talks mostly about Bakugo and Midoriya, you go on about Asui and Koda

It turns to laughing and quietly bullying the kids for a moment as you two enjoy some of the sillier memories

Soon Toshinori, too, has tears in his eyes

He sobs more than you did

He’s just so proud of these kids!!

You feel like an old married couple talking about their 30-something kids living far from home

Kind of silly considering they’re all 15 and currently in class right down the hall

You two have to go see them during lunch break

Present Mic

Crying in Solidarity

You stood with Hizashi in front of a grave of a kid you never knew on an overcast day

He’d normally make a comment about the weather matching the mood but...

Not now

His fists were clenched, and though his smile stood strong and his glasses hid his eyes

They couldn’t catch his tears

You held his hand in silence and pretended not to notice the falling of his facade

It happens very seldom

He was shaking, you could hear his breath hitch hard despite his attempts to remain calm

You didn’t know this Shirokumo kid, you’d never met him, you couldn’t pick him out in a crowd if you had to

You didn’t even know who he was to Hizashi

But you knew it tore him up inside that he was buried here

You knew he kept his emotions well contained for everything else but him

You pulled Hizashi a bit closer, letting him lean onto you as tears began to run down your cheeks

The two of you stood in silence and cried on this, an overcast day

The weather really did match your mood.

Fatgum

Crying in relief

The hospital door opened with a loud slam

You didn’t really mean to slam it so hard but now wasn’t the time to go apologizing to inanimate objects for being a little rough

Your voice shrilled even louder than the door the name of the patient laying on the bed in the center of the room

Taishiro looked up with a face of ‘Oh shit’ which was the correct face to have

You were mad for all of the time it took to yell about how worried you were

FIRST OF ALL he didn’t even call to tell you he was in the hospital, you got that information from Tamaki

Second, you barely even know what HAPPENED to land him here

And THIRD,

Nope. Anger’s gone. Evaporated like a puddle in mid July.

Taishiro had sat up in his bed with a nervous smile, peppering in the nicknames and speaking in the gentle voice as he reached out to console you

Just seeing him sit up, his arms bandaged lightly around the wrist

It all just came crashing in

He was fine.

Tears over flowed as you cried a bit louder than you had yelled previously

Hiccuping and gasping out how worried you were and how mad you still wanted to be

Taishiro just laughed an apology as he hugged you, thankful for your concern

He promised to call next time

You found yourself yelling at him to never do this again

Aoyama

Crying on command

Acting was something you had mastered

More or less anyway

You dove head first into a role and you were damn good at it

But everyone has weaknesses

You’d locked yourself in Aoyama’s room, going over lines and choreography for some little play in the park you two had signed up for

Now you sat on his floor as he painted your nails, glaring daggers into the script

You had to cry.

It seemed so easy. Think of something sad and cry over it on stage. Simply.

and yet your eyes remained dry, your stage make-up perfect

Aoyama had been couching you, weeping all sorts of tears for your amusment

It wasn’t helping

You turned your glare to Aoyama, who was completely enthralled in drawing tiny art pieces into your nails

God he was bright

....bright.....

You looked directly up at the light on the ceiling and stared

Your eyes wide you forced yourself not to blink

It hurts

And it worked

You looked back to Aoyama with tears streaming down your face and searing pain in your retina

He applauded your dedication

Ojiro

It’s all just a lot

You weren’t really sure when it all became so much

But everything you’d been working at and training for suddenly weighed more than you could bare

You found yourself in the middle of the UA empty halls, flat on the ground on your stomach

Tripping was the breaking point

The straw that broke the camel’s back, as they say

You just started sobbing

When you heard footsteps coming you just kind of... wiggled out of the way

Pressing yourself to the wall you just continued to cry to yourself, curled in a ball, expecting the other person to just pass you by

Instead a soft white handkerchief gently pressed to your cheek, followed by a quiet “Are you okay?”

You were not okay.

Ojiro sat himself beside you as you wiped your face, continuing to sob

You didn’t offer an explanation, he didn’t ask for one

He sat in the hall quietly with you, his tail giving the occasional swish to brush your cheek of tears

The silence gave to time to catch your breath, and realize class probably started a long time ago

When you got up to be on your way, he joined you

He didn’t offer to walk you where you needed to go, he simply did

His quiet wave, his silent smile, his patient glances at you

It all made everything feel just a bit lighter

The next time you’d see Ojiro in the halls, he’d smile at you

And he’d be delighted if you could smile back

Kaminari

Crying from shock

It was just a little zap to the hip, a little bee sting

He’d been doing it to everyone in class, learned it from some stupid tiktok

When it was your turn to get stung, you let out the loudest yelp in the class

He laughed at first, proudly proclaiming how he’d gotten you

Until you whipped to him with fury in your eyes, along with tears

His panicked “Shit, wait, I’m sorry” fell on deaf ears as you quickly gave him a return jab in the hip

Without the actual shock part it probably wasn’t as painful

So you did it a few more times for good measure

Then he jabbed you again

And it was on

Jabs to the hip turned to jabs to the gut, armpit, neck, even right dead center in his chest

You were both in pain and sure to be covered in bruises when Iida finally separated you two

It was hard to see with the tears swelling in both your eyes

But when Denki made direct eye contact with you before giving a glance to Iida, you knew

You nodded, an evil smirk crossing your face

The two of you took your index and middle fingers, driving them quickly and roughly into the class rep’s hips simultaneously

His yelp had the entire class laughing

It then also had the entire class in study hall for the rest of break

Bakugo

He’s just kind of a dick

Standing outside of class 1-A you felt as though your heart was beating in your throat

When the door opened you jumped out of your skin as a green haired boy came out at full speed

He managed to stop on a dime before slamming into you though

You choked out the courage to ask him if Katsuki Bakugo was in class

The kid before you stared in shock before turning around and calling for a “Kacchan”, telling him someone was here to see him

You glanced in the door and watched as several people pried the man you wanted to see from his seat, shoving him forcefully to the door

They all then slammed the door behind him, keeping the green haired kid who seemed in a rush to leave trapped inside

He barked a what at you that made you reconsider all your choices

Still. You swallowed all your courage, and said what you came here to say.

You confessed your feelings to Bakugo, bravely.

He stared at you with a face of utter confusion, and it managed to catch you a bit off guard

He looked like he didn’t know how to respond

Which he, of course, didn’t.

So he responded the only way he really knows how

Anger.

“WHO THE HELL EVEN ARE YOU?!”

He called you some background extra. What gave you even the slightest though he’d want to be with some nobody he didn’t even know the name of

Within seconds of his screaming the 1-A doors slammed open yet again

The group who’d peeled Bakugo from his seat before jumped from the room and began wrestling him into submission, berating him for his treatment of you

But you were inclined to agree with him

You told them it was fine. He was right, you were just some nobody

You couldn’t stop your voice from shaking, tears streaming from your eyes as you gripped tightly at your shirt

Not knowing really what else to do, you turned and ran away

It was well over a few hours later, and you were still crying alone in the court yard

You flinched at the sound of footsteps approaching you. You closed your eyes and planned to make a run for it somewhere else to avoid bothering anyone

“Hey, dumbass,” a hand placed on your forehead, pulling you back to lean on the person behind you, “You could do a lot better than an ass like me.”

You glanced at Bakugo, who was looking far into the distance, his ears red

You cried and apologized. He didn’t say much else, but his hand remained on you, keeping you in place

You found yourself invited out more, running around with Bakugo and his friends, being rowdy and dumb as teens should be

Your crush on Katsuki Bakugo soon became a distant memory as he grew to be one of your closest friends

Honenuki

Yawning

You flopped dramatically onto the common room couch and let out the loudest, most drawn out sigh you could muster

This act of pure drama drew the attention of Juzo Honenuki, who simply chuckled at your antics

You stretched like a cat across the couch, reaching for him lazily with one hand, you swatted at the book he’d been comfortably reading

He gave another chuckle and inquired what you were after

You answered with an equally dramatic and drawn out yawn, bringing tears to your eyes as you again stretched to him

You then closed your eyes and snuggled into a couch pillow

Honenuki’s hand stretched across the couches and found itself on your head, giving gentle pets back and forth

Once he found himself a good stopping point, Honenuki put his bookmark in place and snapped the book closed

He gave a stretch and a yawn before encouraging you to your feet

You lazily tangled your arms around one of his and draped yourself over him

The two of you walked to your separate dorm rooms arm in arm, occasionally letting out more and more exasperated yawns and sleepy giggles

Monoma

Crying from pain

This was... probably your fault?

You remembered running into Awase from class 1-B while going a bit too fast though the halls

Next thing you knew you were in front of him, on your ass, staring up at him upside down

It took a minute for the pain to register, but as soon as it did tears stung your eyes

You couldn’t even really say anything as Awase’s eyes filled with panic when he’d realized what he’d done, quickly dropping your arm and stepping back, probably planning to make a run for it

The is until his blond classmate came up behind him, pressuring him to apologize in a loud, negging tone

When Awase again avoided your eyes, opting to shove his hands in his pockets as he glared at the wall, Monoma dropped to his knees and offered you assistance

The question of “Do you need to go to the nurse?” was accompanied with a handkerchief dabbed at your eyes

Monoma helped you to your feet, apologizing for his classmate, assuring you you were fine and didn’t need to report this to a teacher because you were clearly fine look at you you’re fine

I mean you weren’t bleeding so... Yeah? You were fine.

He sounded like he’d be the one in trouble if you told someone about Awase self defense flipping you over his shoulder

When he offered again to walk you to the nurse, you declined

He was right, you were fine, just a bit sore

You wiped the tears from your eyes and thanked him for his concern as you walked passed him

You also apologized to Awase for bumping into him, though he just huffed a response

You didn’t get very far when you heard quick steps following close behind

Monoma was just checking in to make sure you for sure weren’t going to tell anyone class 1-B’s Awase threw you like a rag doll

He also just figured while he was here he’d ask if there was anything he could do to make up for this incident

Like... buy you lunch sometime.... Or take you out to a nice cafe he knows after school... maybe...?

He just. Didn’t want you to think class B does hit and runs like this on all the pretty students

Mirio

Crying from laughing

Your sides hurt

You gripped onto yourself as you leaned onto Mirio, cackling harder than you had in a while

He was retelling some jokes he’d gone over with Sir Nighteye at his internship today, regaling you, Tamaki, and Nejire with perfect one-liners and horrid puns

You all were laughing far too hard for this late at night

Tears pricked your eyes as you slapped at Mirio’s leg, gasping for breath you begged for a time out

You have the most contagious laugh, Mirio was positive his jokes only ever landed because you laughed at them so easily

When you finally caught your breath you sat up, rubbing giggly tears from your eyes

You gave a glance around the room and found Tamaki doing the same, though his tears were from the yawn he’d just given

All three of you watched Tamaki adorably shifts as he rubbed the tired from his eyes, something he flushed over when he’d finally noticed the attention

Nejire declared that meant bedtime and hopped from her seated position, pulling Tamaki along with her

In a matter of moments she was dragging the tired boy out of the room to their own dorms

You and Mirio chuckled at her antics before you too got up to get going

Mirio offered to walk you to your dorm, which wasn’t far down the hall, but he made such a show of it how could you say no?

Of course he spent the whole walk telling even more terrible jokes that continued to crack you up

By the time you’d gotten to your dorm you were so giggly you couldn’t see straight

Mirio waved as he turned and walked the 5 feet back to his own room

He then turned around and waved again, claiming he already misses you

You giggled at him and returned to your own room

He loved your laugh.

#Emile's Arts #BNHA X Reader #MHA X Reader #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #Present Mic #Hizashi Yamada #Yuga Aoyama #Mashirao Ojiro #Denki Kaminari #Katsuki Bakugo #Juzo Honenuki #Neito Monoma #Taishiro Toyomitsu #Fatgum #Fat Gum #I was going to do Toga as well #But all it was going to be was crying over Magne cause that's my mood so #I'll write toga another time #BE THE CONTENT YOU WISH TO SEE IN THE TAG #I say that #and if I actually followed that I would write nothing but Monoma content all the time #and Inasa I should write more for Inasa #80% of these can also be seen as platonic because I didn't feel like doing much else #I apologize openly for Bakugo I was thinking of something highly specific #Also please know a good half of these with the students are General Studies Reader #or support course student reader #Because I didn't feel like thinking too hard about hero course reader #I am in a sit on the ground and cry for no reason mood tonight and so that is the content I create #Please enjoy. Send requests if you want to. I dunno man this is 99% for me

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

Five Stages of Starflower

Summary: James is oblivious, Lily is mostly okay with her unrequited love and Sirius has a few plans about this situation. For @keepingupwithpotters,@sunshine-marauders, @cellularphoneexplosion and @zephyrcove who all gave me the most Jily prompt of all time (“Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”) and for @magixbeans (“I refuse to stop irritating you until you give me attention.”). Thanks for helping me celebrate this day ❤

Warning only for a few f-words every now and then (Lily curses when she is upset).

Sirius knows it.

Sirius fucking Black knows it.

Lily had been careful ever since last semester when she started to realize the signs of those things. She’d tried to back away, to avoid more contact despite the fact they had exchanged letters through Summer (just normal conversation, talking about what was going on and their families and discussing their friends – it didn’t mean anything), and that they had seen each other (they just happened to be on Diagon Alley on the same day to shopping, which was smarter and safer—and also didn’t mean anything), and Lily had convinced herself that her feelings for him were entirely friendly and would remain so—if only they hadn’t become Heads together.

There was no way her feelings could remain amicable when she was required to stay together with James Potter for hours at a time, alone in the Prefects Room as they worked and planned, their hands brushing against each other sometimes; or when they would run away to share a hot chocolate at the kitchen, enjoying the fact that as Head Boy and Head Girl they could ignore a little more the curfew, and he’d make her laugh and would help her wipe off the chocolate out of the corner of her mouth.

Lily had fancied someone before, and she knew how to identify the signs, as pale as those previous signs seemed when it came to James. Still, she knew what meant the way she would shiver whenever he’d touched her, or how her heart would skip a beat when their eyes met without planning and he would grin deviously at her or how she would sit closer to him than she needed, just to catch a sniff more of that wonderful scent.

She was falling for James Potter and the worst part was that she’d totally missed the timing in which he fancied her back.

Because all those signs she saw in herself were unfortunately absent from him. James had apparently mastered the art of considering her as nothing more than his friend, because when he’d touched the corner of her mouth—and she had blinked to him, she really had, a blink that said we are alone now and you are touching my mouth can you just kiss me?—James had done nothing but smile nicely, friendly, drawing away.

And she absolutely knew he was treating her as just his friend when the very next week he’d asked her if she didn’t mind changing her Friday patrol rounds with Leanne Diggory. Fridays were the day they patrolled together until late in the night. Fridays were the days where they would go to the kitchen and share a drink and talk about life and it was their moment.

‘Sure,' she had said, acting as if she didn’t understand what his request meant for them. ‘Any particular reason?’

James had flushed then, his hand automatically flying to his hair like he did when he was nervous and after a moment he glanced at Leanne across the Prefects Room. Lily had followed the direction of his gaze; Leanne was smiling back at James and Lily understood even more.

‘Well,’ she said then, keeping her voice carefully light even as a crushing weight had taken residence in her chest. ‘It’s a pretty reason.'

She couldn’t fault James for not being interested in her anymore, but she couldn’t also just stop feeling that thing for him, not since there was no way for her to avoid him completely. So she resigned herself to having a platonic crush on James Potter, one that she administered very well until the day of the first Quidditch game of the season.

Lily had been so diligent that none of her friends had noticed her feelings for him—and she knew that because there was no way Mary or Dorcas would keep it silent if they suspected. She had been careful not to gasp when they were on the grounds and James had been dropped at the lake by Sirius, stepping out of the water and taking off his shirt to dry himself (but she had taken that memory to her heart and lost herself in dreams about him); she had not frowned when she saw James leaving his group at the last Hogsmeade trip to go talk with Leanne, flashing that dangerous grin of his to her (but she had punched her pillow in anger lately, wishing James had come to her).

And then there was the first Quidditch match and Gryffindor had won and in the post-game euphoria, Lily had made the tiny mistake of hugging James and keeping that guilty longing smile on her face when they had broken apart.

That’s when her gaze had met Sirius, and he had widened his eyes in surprise, taking in all that her smile meant—by the time Lily had rearranged her face into a normal expression, Sirius was smirking knowingly, that moron.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He knows. Lily knows he knows. Sirius knows Lily knows he knows.

It could be worse if it were any of other James’ friends, she reasons dismayingly. Remus would have come to talk to her and urge her to share her feelings with James; Peter would spill the word to James, unable to keep a secret from him.

But it doesn’t look like any of these other scenarios is really worse as she sees Sirius’ eyes shining with a predatory look, like a wolf that knows it got his prey.

She considers running away. But Lily is no coward, there is no place for her to go permanently and she believes in keeping her enemies closer, if Sirius could be considered as one, at any chance. That’s why she keeps her ground, pretending everything is nice and not at all bothered when she sees James is near the fireplace talking with Leanne Diggory.

It won’t fool Sirius, but Lily can keep her dignity at least.

And remaining alone at the drinks table allows for him to get closer to her, which is important for her to check how much damage she did today.

‘Enjoying the party, Evans?’

Lily nearly sighs. Nearly one year of friendship with the Marauders told her they only call her by the last name when they are in full teasing mode.

James calls her a lot by Evans, though, but it sounds nice and she rather likes it.

‘Same as always. Nice party.'

‘Oh, I thought you’d be feeling… too crowded.' Sirius throws a glance towards the fireplace and Lily doesn’t need to follow the direction of his gaze to know what he is talking about. ‘Maybe you wish you were at one of those Head meetings.'

Lily pretends to be amused. ‘Heads can enjoy parties too.'

‘One of the Heads is certainly enjoying the party if the party is happening back at the throat of Leanne Diggory—’

She can control her eyes enough to not look in their direction to confirm how literal Sirius is being right now, but she cannot stop the grimace on her face fast enough; it is a spasm of hurt and anger and jealousy, and it becomes obvious that Sirius saw all these emotions when his grin just increases.

Well, too late to still save her dignity.

‘Good for him. Now, if you excuse me—’

‘Oh, I don’t,’ he replies gladly. ‘Why, you seem a little green to me, Evans.'

‘It’s my eyes, maybe you didn’t notice their colour before.'

‘Well, I never particularly cared, but I remember a young bloke reciting that your eyes were pure emerald bestowing grace upon that poor bloke’s heart.'

‘Jade,’ she corrects before she can think better of it. ‘He compared them to jades.'

Sirius’ grin is criminal now. At least, it’s making her want to murder him.

‘My, Evans, for someone that threw a hex at him you seem to have memorized his words.'

‘He kneeled to recite that poem to me in the middle of the Common Room, what else could I do?’

‘Snogged him?’ Sirius suggests, arching one eyebrow when Lily shakes her head. ‘Just imagine, if you had snogged him back then, he might not be snogging someone else right now.'

It’s a fair assumption, but this time Lily doesn’t have to disguise any particular emotion. She doesn’t regret not going out with James before; they were far too different back then. He matured a lot since those days when he would ask her out when he would be so infatuated with her that it was annoying mostly…

Unfortunately, in the list of things he changed since growing up, his feelings for her were included.

That makes her frown.

‘He is free to do whatever he wants,’ she says, a safe mid-term.

‘Or whoever he wants.’

She closes her fists, wanting to punch something; most likely Sirius’ face, though she will settle for her pillow too.

‘Are you here for any reason or you just want to piss me, Black?’

‘Mentioning that James’ hands are all over Diggory’s bum would piss you?’

‘Ah, fuck off, Sirius,’ she says, not bothering anymore to pretend anything.

He laughs—a loud carefree sound that seems like a dog’s bark to warn that something is happening; in this case, that Lily Evans is making a fool of herself.

‘I will leave you alone—if you just admit it.’

‘Admit what?’

'Are we really playing this game, Evans? Let's not go through the five stages of Lily Evans' acceptance of her undying love for James Potter, shall we?'

Lily blinks, fighting not to splurge over her drink.

'I have no idea what you are talking about, Sirius.'

'Have it your way then. I just thought you should know, I was kidding. James' tongue is carefully kept inside his mouth.'

And he indicates the fireplace. Lily looks at it now and, sure enough, though James is still talking to Leanne, he is fairly apart from her, hands untouching, in a friendly stance.

When she looks back, Sirius is not there anymore, but wherever he is she knows he is smirking, that prat. Continue reading on AO3 :)

#Jily #Jily Fanfiction #Canon Jily #Sirius Black supports Jily #sirius and lily #this is all self-indulgent #written as a love statement to Sirius and Lily's friendship #And also because Sirius was the original Jily shipper #and he called them Lames no question about it #posted now because somewhere in the pacific is already my birthday #and since I am half-japanese I can post in Japan Time #it is known

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whoacanada · 4 years ago

Text

Zimmerbro AU

Summary: Andrew Phillip Rowe could skate before he could walk, and it wasn’t until he was almost twenty and well on his way to becoming a Las Vegas Ace before he knew why.

a/n: that’s right we’ve got a secret zimmermann brother au based on the fact that Bob was an active pro athlete for almost 15 years before Jack was born and almost definitely had relationships before Alicia. This particular one resulted in a secret love child.

When the call finally went out that year — a request for players willing to billet the incoming draftees — Andrew had been the first in line.

His already sparsely decorated guest room had been primed for a new tenant since he’d learned Las Vegas’ abysmal season had earned them the first pick of the 2009 draft. In his mind, Andrew had envisioned a tearful confession. A family reunion nineteen years in the making where he’d finally get a chance to connect with a half-brother he’d grown up learning about through news articles and stats pages.

He wasn’t ready for Jack to pull out of the draft days before the ceremony; wasn’t ready for the claims of an overdose or speculation about suicide attempts. He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to open his home to a young man with limp blonde hair and deep circles under his eyes with the same enthusiasm he’d promised he’d offer to a son of Bob Zimmermann.

Andrew was hoping for a little brother.

He got Kent Parson instead.

______

“You remind me of my boyfriend.” Kent slurs one night, completely gone on Johnny Walker Blue borrowed from Andrew’s wet bar. “It’s your . . . face.”

“Shouldn’t talk about things like that,” Andrew cautions gently, covering his own surprise. “Never know who might be listening.”

“Who fucking cares? He won’t talk to me,” Kent continues, ignoring him and sniffing like he’s on the verge of sobbing or puking, both options equally unwanted. “They wouldn’t tell me if he was even alive.”

Another unwanted puzzle piece locks into place.

“Jack?” Andrew suggests softly, and Kent begins to cry.

“You won’t tell right?”

Andrew shakes his head no, long enough for Kent’s bleary eyes to focus on the gesture and take it seriously.

Things are different, after that conversation. Not worse, or better, just different.

________

“He’s my brother.”

Andrew admits this one night, for no reason other than that he can.

Kent is across the room, backlit by lights from the Strip, his legs dangling off the arm of his favorite couch as he scrolls through his phone looking for distractions. Parse hasn’t lived with Andrew for almost two seasons, but he still turns up like a bad penny whenever he needs to commiserate with someone who knows his more lascivious secrets. Truthfully, Andrew’s grateful for the company. He’s a pretty genial guy, but he’s always kept his distance, a personality trait he likes to think he shares with an unassuming sibling, but there’s no way to know for sure. The farther Andrew gets from the 2009 Draft, the less faith he has in a reunion that won’t just bring crippling sorrow to everyone involved.

A secret Zimmermann son who actually made it in the NHL. Who has his name on the Stanley Cup, not once, but twice, largely thanks to the spitfire forward lounging in Andrew’s living room.

“Who’s your brother?” Kent asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Jack Zimmermann.”

Kent barks a laugh and rolls his head lazily to smirk at Andrew.

“That’s funny. I guess you kinda have the same chin. Was Marky digging for chirps?”

Andrew has no idea what that means, but he sets down his tablet and says, “No, he’s actually my half-brother. My mom dated Bad Bob in ’84 and got pregnant.”

The lackadaisical smile on Kent’s face falters as his gaze sharpens, like he’s actually looking at Andrew for the first time. Andrew responds by gesturing at himself lamely.

“That’s not funny.”

“No.” Andrew agrees. “It isn’t.”

Kent swings his feet down off the couch and braces himself against the overstuffed leather. He doesn’t look mad, but there’s something too close to disbelief for Andrew to convince himself everything’s okay. It takes a moment, but Kent must find what he’s looking for on Andrew’s face.

“Does Bob know?” Kent asks with that familiar overfamiliarity, as if they both still have some personal relationship with the living legend.

“Yeah. When Mom got pregnant she told him she didn’t want the attention since it was only a fling — ”

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock down Bob Zimmermann?” Kent breathes. “Also, why the fuck did she tell you that?”

“No shit, right? She got him to sign away parental rights, set up a trust, never spoke to him again as far as I know. I didn’t find out until after I signed with the Aces. She didn’t want me to get blindsided if it all came out, but the story never broke.”

“I mean, does Bob know who you are?” Kent questions. “Does Jack?”

Andrew shakes his head no, because he doesn’t think so, and Kent flops back against the cushions, face slack with disbelief; it doesn’t take long for his features to shift to anger.

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me? Even after I told you —“

“Okay, there’s a whole-ass difference between you fucking dudes and and me being ‘Bad Bob’s bastard’,” Andrew bites, curtailing Kent’s imminent hissy fit. Appropriately, Kent closes his mouth, almost pouting.

“Fine. But that’s fucked.” Kent says after a loaded moment of silence. “I’m sorry you’re . . . you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you’re you, too.”

“You know Jack’s signing with the Falconers, right?” Kent offers like the worst kind of olive branch, unintentionally telling Andrew exactly what he was up to during that stretch of time between New England games a few months prior. “It’s not public but it’s happening. Ink’s dry.”

“I know. That’s why I told you. It’s gonna be weird,” Andrew swallows, thinking about playing Providence in the coming months.

“Fucking right it’s weird.”

_________

For the most part, the Las Vegas Aces are decent, stand up guys. Even with the accusations of gambling debts and mob connections with the ownership group, Andrew’s never been asked to hit a certain player a little too hard, or to take a dive so the other team gets a shot at a power play. A lot of talk, a lot of conspiracies, ‘Typical Aces hockey’, but there’s no malice. Not really.

Andrew thinks it’s hilarious he plays the game a lot like his estranged father, but he’s not a legend in the making, hell, at this point he’s barely regarded as more than a mid-level, reliable center that can bring home 40 points a season.

Carly whips behind Zimmermann’s back to clip his skate with a stick, dropping a ill advised chirp that sets every player in earshot on edge. Parse is close enough to catch the quiet slur, stiffening like he’s been hit, and Andrew watches Zimmermann recover quickly, steely and resolute.

Jack has his mother’s eyes — not the warm brown Andrew catches every time he looks in the mirror.

“He’s a fucking goon,” Andrew breathes, gliding up to Jack’s shoulder in lieu of an apology. Zimmermann doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking to Andrew with the quiet rage of ‘who gives a fuck’. Andrew admires his commitment to the game. Coming back after so much, after so long, to willingly subject himself to the same kind of treatment that Andrew knows likely led to his original fall from grace.

“Hey,” Kent ducks his head as he slides up a little while later, mouthguard clenched between his teeth, and asks, “You see his twink?”

At Andrew’s obvious confusion, Kent jerks his head toward the glass behind the Falconers’ bench, to a raucous group of fans all sporting fresh Zimmermann jerseys. Andrew’s gaze drifts along the row of faces, lingering longer on the familiar, handsome couple beside the blonde young man. He may be imagining things — the stadium lights catching a bad angle — but for the briefest moment, Andrew holds eye contact with his father.

“He’s cute, right?” Kent says bitterly, like he doesn’t have a partner of his own back home.

“Yeah, he is. You gonna do anything about the slurs, Captain?” Andrew counters, earning a stern look from Parson.

“I’ll deal with Carly.”

“Oh, you will? Because I’ve never seen you shut him down before.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Kent’s expression goes stormy, and he gives Andrew a hard shove before skating off to set up for the next shift. To his credit, he does grab Carly by the arm and tell him something that earns a look of displeasure from the larger man, but Andrew knows a verbal warning won’t curtail someone as dead-set in his conservatism as Carly.

The next play, Carly flashes Andrew a toothy smile over the lineman’s shoulder, as if they’re in on the same joke, and his vision goes red.

__________

“Bad Bob’s outside,” Scraps rasps, like whatever brief interaction he’s just had has physically winded him. “He wants to talk to Flip.”

Andrew blinks up from the water bottle in his hands, previously concerned with the pink-stained gauze wrapped around his knuckles. A few of the guys start chirping, but most of them remain silent, still processing the fact that Andrew assaulted one of their own without clear motivation, in defense of an opponent.

“That’s what this was all about? You gunning for a trade?” Sorenson spits from his stall. “Needed to impress Bad Bob by beating the snot out of Carly?”

“Maybe I am,” Andrew sighs, pushing himself to his feet, wincing at the way his jaw aches from the few good hits Carly had managed to squeeze in before he went down. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it.”

_______

Andrew’s grateful he kept his skates on. He needs the boost of confidence that comes with the added height, especially when he finds Bob Zimmermann waiting patiently in the corridor like he’s just another staff member and not the second most recognizable figure in modern hockey.

“Hey kid,” Bob greets, casting an approving, overly-familiar eye over Andrew’s padded bulk and sweat-slick hair. “You can throw a hell of a punch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy beat the piss out of a teammate before. Off ice, sure, but never during a game.”

His accent is just as thick in private as every interview Andrew’s ever caught live — but his tone is unexpectedly warm, even grateful — when Bob laughs at his own recounting of Andrew’s assault attempt, the sound is light and joyous like nothing in the world comes easier to this titan of a man.

Andrew wonders if Bob can recognize the chin they share beneath a his playoff beard; if there’s any resemblance left in a nose that’s been reset a half-dozen times.

Andrew grew up loved and never wanted for anything. His step-fathers, both of them, had been good men who never left him looking for a father figure. It wasn’t until his twenties that Andrew even realized there was hole where his bio-dad should have been, and not just a regular hole, a yawning sinkhole threatening to devour his entire sense of self, because his biological father turned out to be a man he grew up idolizing as a personal hero.

He’s not mad at his mother, but when Andrew struggles to find his voice — which is bullshit seeing as he’s almost thirty-five and a god-damned professional athlete — he can’t stop himself from feeling like a misplaced child.

“Do you,” Andrew swallows, looking over Bob’s shoulder to see if anyone’s watching them. Finding they’re alone, he rallies quietly, “Do you know who I am?”

Bob’s jovial expression softens into something remorseful, but unfathomably kind. “I do, buddy,” he acknowledges, somehow squeezing three decades of affection into one term of endearment. “I’ve known for some time, now. The whole time, actually.”

That hurts more than expected.

“Does your wife? Does Jack?”

Bob shakes his head, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Alicia knows, and Jack has some idea he’s got a half-brother, but it’s all in the abstract. No specifics. Definitely doesn’t know you play. I wanted to respect your privacy and your mother’s wishes. She let me know she’d told you the truth a few years back and I wanted to give you the space you needed if you decided to reach out. When you didn’t, well, a man makes assumptions.”

Andrew looks down at the concrete beneath his skates and sniffs hard, fighting nasal drip from the smelling salts he’d needed in the third period; or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. “I had a plan, back when — ” he stops himself, looking down at his skates. Bob’s eyebrows lift in curiosity, leaving room for Andrew to gather his thoughts, but he doesn’t take the bait, unable to bring up what could have been just yet. Bob seems to grasp the context after the moment.

“2009,” he acknowledges softly. “Hell of a year.”

“Yeah. It was. Is he okay?”

“What, Jack? He’s leagues ahead of where he was then —”

“No, I mean, tonight. Carly clipped him pretty hard before I got in there.”

“Oh, a little bruised up, but he’ll live. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Okay.”

Andrew looks down at his bandaged fist and realizes he’s completely forgotten how gnarly his face must look.

“Trainer says I’m alright, but I’m gonna get leveled with a wicked fine, I know it.”

“Was it worth it?” There’s a look of guilty pride on Bob’s face, like the man’s enjoying himself a little too much when he leans in and whispers, “You just did something I’ve wanted to do since Jack was in mites. Fucking lay out one of those fuckers that’s got nothing better to do than bitch because they can’t play,” there’s a moment of hesitation, as if he’s worried about pushing a boundary, before he adds, “How’d it feel to look out for your little brother?”

Pride, it turns out, in contagious, and Andrew feels like he could go back on the ice and do it all over again. “Pretty fucking great,” Andrew can’t help a smile, wincing when the gesture pulls at his split lip.

Bob slaps a hand on Andrew’s shoulder pads, then gets a grip on the back of his head, heedless of his sweaty hair.

“Crisse, you’re a fuckin’ beaut, kid. I’ve wanted to tell you that for years.”

Andrew can’t blame the smelling salts anymore.

__________

Jack clearly doesn’t see his father standing there with red-rimmed eyes, or Andrew in an equally unkempt state, and has no reason to think anything untoward has happened when he offers a handshake and pulls Andrew into a hug, bouncing his free fist off the back of Andrew’s pads. “I owe you a drink,” Jack says decisively when he pulls back, shooting a grin between his father and Andrew. “Can’t believe you did that.”

“More than a drink, I think,” the blonde guy Andrew saw behind the bench pipes up. Jack’s ‘twink’. Boyfriend. Whatever. “Dinner at least.”

“A pie,” Bob suggests tightly, keeping his voice even as he turns to quickly scrub his fist over his eyes. Andrew recognizes the statuesque woman who strides up beside Bob, and one quick look tells him she definitely knows who he is.

“Hello, Andrew,” Alicia greets softly, genuinely. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” he says, the tightness in his throat coming out as gruffness rather than emotion. “This is great, but I should go shower and, uh, it was nice meeting you all.”

Bob’s hand whips out and fists the sleeve of Andrew’s sweater, keeping him in place.

“You have plans tonight?”

Andrew debates lying, because he doesn’t know how to move forward from this point, but they’re all looking at him. Waiting. Expectant. There’s too much at stake, and yet somehow — A sharp whistle drags Andrew’s attention back to the locker room. Kent is peeking his head out, and god knows how long he’s been eavesdropping.

“Yo, Zimmermanns. Bittle.”

“Parson.” The blonde says curtly, earning a wry smirk from Kent.

“Flip, we got a presser if you feel like putting a bow on the evening,” Kent’s gaze drifts to Bob’s flushed face, and he adds, “Or, you can shower and slip out the loading bay while I cover for your aggro ass because this is not going to be fun. Your call.”

Andrew looks at the small family surrounding him, his family, and says, “I don’t want to explain.” Kent shrugs and ducks back inside while Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. “I can do dinner, but I don’t want to,” Andrew holds his hands out in front of him, trying to gesture what he means, and Bob snaps his fingers in understanding.

“Ah, ha, I got you, kid.”

“Neat. I’m gonna go shower.”

“We will be here when you’re ready,” Alicia offers. “Take your time.”

“Oh, I will,” Andrew replies before he can stop himself, cringing the second his back is turned because what the fuck could he be any more awkward?

Time will tell.

_____________

#zimbits #jack / bitty #omgcp #check please #my fic #my stuff #lost zimmermann brother au #bob's got another kid and I named him andrew again!#kent is not a bad guy #only carly is a bad guy and we hate him #long post #because it's a mini fic!

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2-cute-4-school · 5 years ago

Text

NCT Dream reaction to you getting your wisdom teeth removed

Mark

babysitting the dreamies is part of his daily job so he thinks ‘how hard can it be to take care of you for a few hours pffft’

he’s never regretted underestimating you so bad in his entire life ◑.◑

you’re not just a nightmare

you’re THE ULTIMATE NIGHTMARE

he was so embarrassed when he had to gently drag you out of the dentist’s office while you were crying cuz

“mY TOOTH!! mark, i lost my tooth, what am i gonna do?!?! i should have put a leash on it, i knew it!!!! now it’s gone and it’s all my fault!!!!” (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )

*ugly sobbing* *mark awkwardly patting your back while pulling you away from the scrutinizing glares of a few karens in the waiting room*

“mark. i didn’t even get to name it!!!”

poor bby cheetah mark is SO lost

“baby, hey, don’t cry! we’ll uh…. i’ll get you a new one!” ヾ(ﾟДﾟ;ヾ)

you look up with your glassy eyes and your right cheek chubbier than your left from the cotton lodged where your tooth used to be, your bottom lip trembling oh so cutely

and mark just…stops functioning for a moment because

‘HOW CAN ANYONE BE SO CUTE BUT SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS AT THE SAME TIME IT’S NOT FAIR !!??!?!?’

“ rweally? would you really do that for me, markie?” (◞‸◟；)

“ASFKSFRDACGCS YES LOML ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING JUST SAY THE WORD AND I’LL BRING THE MOON TO YOUR FEET YOU PRECIOUS LIL BABY” ⊂（♡⌂♡）⊃

and he still insists he’s not 120% whipped for you can you believe it

he ends up piggybacking you all the way back home because your giggles were just too cute for him to resist so he can’t even get tired with how happy he is to witness you so carefree and joyful

and his heart just melts when you leave a huuuge kith with the loudest *MWAH* ever on his cheek and you nuzzle your nose in the crook of his neck that’s like the fatal combination of cute acts ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

in conclusion : this man just adores you with every bit of his heart :((((

Renjun

probably asked kun to pick you both up from the dentist

you’re just too much for him smh

you’re cute and all but renjun is a tired uncle

so you’re both in the backseat with kun as your driver and it’s silent

renjun just knows something is wrong there’s no way you’re so calm

but you’re just staring at him like ◎_◎

“uh..babe, you alright?”

silence and then *GASP*

renjun just knows he’s about to facepalm himself into another dimension when you grip his cheeks in both hands

“you’re a fAIRY!!!!!!!” (*ﾟﾛﾟ)

*sigh* *muffled words* “y/n let’s calm down and just-”

he doesn’t get another word out before you shove his face in your lap and literally raise his shirt up to the nape of his neck

damn beach you know what you want huh go off

“where are they???!!?!?! where are you hiding them you impostor??!!!?”

and then you start slapping his back

“ow ow OW, Y/N WTF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?? STOP !!”

“YOUR WINGS!!! WHERE ARE YOUR FRICKIN’ WINGS ?!?!?” (╬ Ò ‸ Ó)

renjun is this 👌 close to knocking you out for good with a karate chop

so he just pushes you off and straps you to your seat with a second safety belt as he huffs under his breath

“i can’t guarantee you’ll live to see next week” (⊙_◎)

kun watching in the rear mirror like （͡°͜ʖ͡°）

“you know what? i’d really eat some chicken wings right now!! jun, let’s go get chicken wings!!!” ⊂((・▽・))⊃

he’s surprised you even remember his name

but you eventually exhaust yourself and pass out in the backseat of the car so renjun and kun drag you to bed

and renjun just tucks you in like the soft loving boyfriend that he is

and he just stares at you fondly and smooches you all over your face cuz

“how tf can you be so cute, you lil overexcited evil? you’re like the cutest thing in the world and it just!!!not!!!fair!!!!!” (♡ ‸ ♡ )

so even though he complains about you a lot, he’d sell his kidney just to see his lil cute bub happy i’m so soft :((((

Lee Jeno

“let’s go to the playground!!”

“y/n, no, let’s go home and put some ice on that cheek”

“but baaaabe i wanna go one the swing” ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

“then we’ll have to ice both cheeks”

“what did ya say???!!?!”

so jeno’s headache only worsened once you both arrived home with no prior stop to the playground

and as much as he loves you he also wants to bang his head against a wall and end his suffering yay o((*^▽^*))o

“just stay still for a second please, i’m really trying to tie this thing properly around your head”

you’re just so restless and jeno is just so done

“does it hurt?”

“ywes, my heart hurts because my own boyfriend doesn’t love me!!!”

“y/n, we already had this conversation, now just-”

“i just wanted a swing!!!” *bursts into tears* *jeno sighs half of his soul out* ଽ (৺ੋ ௦ ৺ੋ )৴

so jeno sits down beside you and pulls you into his lap gently, rocking you back and forth in an attempt to soothe your sobs jeno best boyfriend no cap

“there there, baby, we can’t go out-” *sobs intensify* “BUT i promise i’ll get you a swing right here if you let me take care of you first”

you leech yourself onto jeno’s sleeve and wipe your tears on his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind the wet patch left on the material as he watches you with that soft look of his (´-ω-`)

so you let him patch you up after his reassurance and after he just pats your head affectionately and motions for you to stand up

and this man just flexes his arms and nudges you to latch on

that’s how jeno ends up with a squealing you as you swing back and forth with your fingers gripping his arm ╰(✧∇✧╰)

Lee Haechan

you want to pretty him up

because “since my left cheek looks like it’s stuffed with a tennis ball, i can’t carry the visuals in this relationship for a while, so i need to hand the responsibility over to you”

“who even said you’re the one carrying the visuals” ℃ↂ_ↂ

“oh honey you’re only now realizing?”

(╬☉д⊙)⊰⊹ฺ

he blames the anesthesia for your severe accusations

but the only way to shut you up is give in to your wishes

so that’s how he found himself seated down on the carpet of your home with your legs draped over his and your totally professional make up applied over his face

“i look like a clown”

“not even make up can cover your true identity, hyuck”

deep breaths, donghyuck, in and out, take it easy (◎ω◎*)

“any preferences for the nail polish color?”

“to match my soul”

“so hot pink” o(≧∇≦o)

*poker face* “you know i could obliviate you if i wanted to clown you”

*pout that hurts hyuck’s lil heart* “but you wouldn’t do that to your hurting baby, would you” *blinks rapidly with puppy eyes*

“you bet i would” (no he wouldn’t you’re just too cute and he loves you too much) *totally not whipped (♥ω♥*)*

painting his nails is the hugest struggle in your entire life

“WHY TF ARE THEY SO SHORT, ARE THEY TAKING AFTER YOU”

on second thought, mercy is no longer available for you

“hyuck, you should tape your fingers so you won’t bite your nails like a preschooler anymore”

“i’ll tape your mouth shut, that’s what i’ll tape” *_*

“hUH???!?!!?” (*ﾟﾛﾟ)

Na Jaemin

“okay jisung is an easy task compared to you right now”

even though this man is used to being the mom of the group

he’s still most likely in disbelief watching his otherwise angel flap around like a headless chicken

but you’re even cutter with your swollen cheek so he forgives you (︶▽︶)

“hey, jaem, did you know i’m closely related to snails??”

“entertain me” (∩_∩)

“they can sleep for years at once. that’s like my main talent.”

“it would be great for me if you’d put this talent of yours to work now”

jaemin ends up sprawled over the couch and watching dramas like a tired mom of 3 hyperactive children with you curled up at his side playing games on his phone

*hiccup*

jaemin’s brain before he even registered the sound : something’s wrong

“y/n baby?” (｡•́︿•̀｡)

*hiccup* *sniffle* *hiccup*

jaemin’s overprotective instincts kicked in ಠ╭╮ಠ

he knocks the phone out of the way and swings your legs over his lap to cradle you against his chest and hush you with the gentlest coos while rubbing your back up and down softly

“what happened, my love? does it hurt? tell nana what’s wrong and he’ll get rid in a second of what dared hurt his precious baby” just imagine this man this would be like the peak of my life 🥺

so in between your boyfriend’s comforting whispers and your harsh breaths of air you managed to let out a few words

“e-elephants, nana”

he already knows the biggest facepalm is coming his way -_-

“tHEy CAn’T jUmP, tHE poOR ELephANTs”

(ノ-_-)ノ~┻━┻

he just sighs and continues rocking you in his arms until you doze off, slumped on his chest, your head cushioned by his shoulder

he softly shakes his head at you and lays a butterfly kiss on your forehead

“i would make elephants jump just for you, my cute big baby” ♡♡(￫ε￩*)

Zhong Chenle

he halfway panics at the way you act

you’re usually the one who takes care of him so your childish act that surfaced because of the anesthesia took him by surprise

“dude they brainwashed y/n” (ﾉ｀□´)ﾉ

once you start babbling to him about the end of the rainbow and the elf that awaits there with a pot full of golden coins he knew you lost it

calls renjun

“hyung i’m sorry for saying you’re batshit crazy with your conspiracies, but aliens kidnapped y/n”

*muffled voices on the other side*

“NO, I’M NOT DRUNK!! they brainwashed y/n or even worse… returned a cheap copy of them”

renjun probably just tells him to put you to sleep and advises chenle to do the same with himself -_-

so chenle just approaches you very carefully, his voice barely above a whisper

“hey, babe, aren’t you tired?”

“actually no, how about a walk in the park???”

“idk y/n, it doesn’t seem like the best idea”

“PLEASE” 🥺

“THIS IS THE BEST IDEA OF THE YEAR BABY!!!11!!”

this man is royally whipped for you so he takes you to the nearest park and keeps a careful watch on you as you bend down to pet every dog that passes by ⊂((・▽・))⊃

while he would do anything for you, he’s very panicky about your safety so he has to hold your hand the entire time and you’re not allowed to leave his side for even a second overprotective boyfriend check

mid walk you take a break on a bench and you lean your head on cheble’s shoulder before muttering sleepily

“lele, i’m tired, imma take a nap”

“are you serious rn” (ಠ_ಠ)

but you’re already a goner and chenle is left fuming by himself

despite his annoyance he still adjusts you so he can piggyback you home and hums songs softly every time you stir (灬♥ω♥灬)

you’ll have to baby him an entire week to pay him back

Park Jisung

this boy is actually quite pleased

because for once he can take care of you and not the other way around without any complaints coming from you

so you both end up curled into each other under a blanket while watching the Frozen movies :((((((((

and for once he ends up watching you more than he watches the movie because you’re so cute reciting all of Olaf’s lines ꒰˘̩̩̩⌣˘̩̩̩๑꒱

but the fun can only last for so long

and when your mouth starts feeling ‘funny’ jisung’s mind goes haywire

“sung, i’m gonna die”

panic panic PANIC (ｼ;ﾟДﾟ)ｼ

“they poisoned you didn’t they??? i knew it!! i knew dentists are evil, how am i gonna explain i let crazy doctors perform dark magic on you???!!?!?” no offense to dentists y’all are life savers

so you have at least 2 ice packs and a bag of frozen peas clutched against your cheek and you swear you’re about to die from frostbite rather than the weird feeling coming from your teeth

and then jisung wraps you in a mountain of blankets cuz ‘we can’t have you catching a cold now too’ as if sweating your ass off is gonna fight off the numbing cold on your face ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

but babie is confused a tad lot bit scared for both his and your life

and you’re kinda very dazed so comforting him isn’t really in your agenda

he probably worries within an inch of his life ヾ( ๑´д`๑)ﾂ

too afraid to let you fall asleep just in case

so every time you doz off sweet cutie jisung just kithes you (๑°꒵°๑)･*♡

and you wake up just to kiss back your cute boyfriend

and he just chuckles and blows raspberries on your neck man jisung would be such a cute whipped boyfriend

but he ends up asleep next to you with his face buried in your hair and arms tightly wrapped around you cocooning you close to himself ah i’m getting soft again ♡(㋭ ਊ ㋲)♡

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tinyboxxtink · 4 years ago

Text

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 1?*

So this is interesting:

So "Not My Yacht" was my very first fic. Like, I'm talking VERY VERY first.

So when I started asking around about ideas for a new series, a few of my lovelies went through my one shots and this story and "Doodling" got some good votes.

So, I decided to include the one shot and just added to it for a POTENTIAL new series. We'll see how this chapter goes over.

Also I'll be including Rita Calhoun in this for the FIRST time ever, so I may need assistance from @storiesofsvu to get her voice right. I did my best here. I'll be honest I've never really watched her, just that one where that guy blackmailed her or something.

Also Also, if it wasn't obvious enough this is obviously the beginning of the SVU episode "Her Negations".

I don't want to give anything away because I haven't even really thought that far, but I'm 95% sure this is going to turn in a William Lewis situation fic. So...pretty dark. I'm just warning you NOW.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

And yes, the results are in. There is a part 2!

You breathed in the salty air of the sea of the sunny South Hampton shore; It was a beautiful day for a yacht party.

You walked along the pier as you got closer to your boss’s boat: The Crime Wave. Her husband’s idea of a funny name she claimed as she had invited people from the office to this soiree. You were lucky to even get an invite, just being the assistant to the owner of the law firm. “Who else is going to help me dodge boring conversations with men who just wanted a "free ride” on the bosses boat?“ She had teased you; or at least you hoped she was kidding.

You really wanted to just relax and mingle among the elite lawyers of NYC, seeing as you wanted to be one of them someday.

You saw your boss, Rita Calhoun waving you down as you reached the dock space.

"Ah! There you are, for a minute I thought I’d have to mix my own drinks!” She laughed with a wink. You laugh nervously, unable to discern if she was kidding.

“Calm down sweetie, I’m a big girl. Besides, I like to make them myself, strong,” she laughed again, patting your shoulder. Crap had your face looked that panicked? Keep it cool!

“Go ahead, enjoy yourself. I’ll be here, making sure none of those damn punks tries to sneak on here for free booze,” she scoffed, nodding to a group of highly dressed teens playing chicken on the shoreline.

You nodded with a half laugh, stepping onto the yacht. It was a decent size, a second level deck and a very spacious main level. Not a lot of people had arrived yet, so you decided to pick a spot on the yachts back bench area before all the seating was taken. You began removing your over clothes revealing your swimming wear when you hear Rita greet someone else.

“Ah, Barba. You know we have flare guns on board,”

You turn to see the ADA of New York, Rafael Barba. He’s dressed in a windbreaker and what could be either a dark red or salmon polo. You realize Mrs. Calhoun is referring to the almost neon yellow color of the windbreaker, and you can’t help but giggle. It must have been way too loud because they both turn to you which caused you to immediately shut up and go back to undressing and laying out your towel, but ever so slightly still honed in on the conversation.

“You can never be too careful Rita, who knows how many enemies I’ve made in this town; someone might throw me over,” he smirked.

“And anyone here could make it look like a very convincing accident….even my aspiring protege over there,” Rita nods over to you, knowing full well what you were doing.

Barba turned and looked at you, your body frozen in mid towel thrust. You didn’t know whether to throw it over yourself or just run off the boat right there.

“I know it’s an awful jacket dear, you don’t have to keep staring at him.” She called over to you. God why did she have to be so….her.

“Jesus Rita give the girl a break, or did you invite her just to torture her on unbillable hours?” Barba scoffed with a half smile, walking over to you.

“Is it really worth the minimum wage to put up with her?” He asked.

“Mmm…it’s more for the experience, honestly.” You replied surprisingly smoothly.

“Oh….well I mean I could give you the experience without–” He started but was interrupted by your boss’s loud exclaiming.

“Yeah I’ll BET you’d give her experience Barba! Stop hitting on my intern and mingle with the adults.”

If you could dig a hole straight through the boat into the ocean you would do it right then and there.

“…..Without THAT.” He rolled his eyes, lightly flipping her the bird behind his back. You see her respond with a laugh then turns her attention back to the guests boarding.

“She’s probably been drinking since she got on the boat, yeah?” He asked you.

“I…I don’t know I just got here….” You managed to squeak out as your towel strayed from your hands. Barba grabbed it and helped you reposition it on the bench.

“Kinda windy for a yacht party, but Rita will take any chance to celebrate anything remotely resembling a boost to her ego. Am I right?” He chuckled, before sitting down on your towel.

“Just to keep it from blowing away, do you mind?” He asked, gesturing for you to join him. You nodded a boisterous “NO”, plopping next to him on the bench.

“I’m Rafael Barba,” he extended his hand to you, which you took and shook gently, praying to God he didn’t notice you were literally shaking. You had probably had the biggest crush on him since you started working with Mrs. Calhoun, he was constantly in her office challenging her with warrants and favors.

“Oh yeah I know,” you blurted out, mentally facepalming immediately.

“I see….” He raised an eyebrow. “And you are….?”

You were about to answer when his phone went off. He answered it putting one finger up and mouthing the words “one second.”

“Barba. Yeah….what? Seriously, Olivia? On a Sunday?!” He groaned into his phone with an exaggerated eye roll. He raised his hand and ran it over his face begrudgingly as he talked.

“Yeah….alright, fine. Yeah I’ll be there, give me an hour. I’m in the Hamptons. Because it’s my day off, Liv! Do you think I lock myself in my office over the weekends like a vampire in a coffin? Yeah…I’m sorry, I just…” He glanced at you.

“I was enjoying my Sunday.” He gave you a small sad smile.

“Yeah. Ok. See you soon.” He hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go back to the city. Don’t let Rita push you around too much, okay?” He chuckled, rubbing the top of your head like a puppy. You felt your face scrunch up in annoyance, seriously? He thought of you as a kid?!

He obviously noticed, and quickly held out his hand again very sternly.

“Sorry, future counselor.” He said in an overly serious tone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Again. Like an idiot.

Relieved he had fixed his faux paux, he gave you one last beautiful Barba grin as he jogged over to Rita and told her something before nodding to you once again, then walked off the boat and disappearing down the pier.

Your boss sauntered over to you, a shit eating grin across her face.

“Well Cinderella, you sure kept that cool.” She gestured for your phone beside you.

“Be sure to tell him your name this time,” she winked, handing it back to you. You glanced down at it as she walked away; she had added a number to your contacts.

“BHole Barba.” You laughed out loud. Nice. Maybe she wasn’t such a horrible boss after all….

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

By Monday you still hadn’t had the balls to text Rafael Barba. You had just stared at the number in your phone, imagining all the possibilities contacting him would lead to. You may have gotten so far as planning your summer wedding in the Hamptons, but nobody needed to know that.

But you had chickened out and left it alone, and now you were sitting at your desk typing up a memo for Rita when you saw him come waltzing through the door.

“Ah, Cinderella!” He smiled at you.

“Hey…” Your mind went blank, you couldn’t think of words. Wait, had he already given you a nickname?

“Cinderella?” You blinked in confusion.

“Well I never caught your name-- But I guess I shouldn’t even push it, you’ve clearly moved on and I must seem like a creep,” His train of thought proceeded out loud as he realized you hadn’t taken his number and here he was still flirting with you. Rita had given it to you, he had seen her type it in your phone. Obviously you weren’t interested, why was he pushing this?

“What? NO!” You said a little louder than you intended, actually a lot louder than you intended. You slapped your hand over your mouth after your little outburst, but to you relief he was still smiling.

“Oh? Well I suppose that’s good…” He was obviously fishing for your excuse as to why you had waited until he popped back in your face to talk to him.

“No, I um--” You racked your brain for an excuse that wasn’t “I was busy planning our lives together”.

“I….couldn’t think of something interesting to say,” You finally admitted with a pitiful sigh. You were not a good liar, and under pressure, forget about it.

Again, he still smiled-- but this time he laughed along with it.

“I mean, ‘Hello’ is always an option,” He chuckled. “Or...your name?”

“Oh!” Idiot. You hadn’t even given him your name, how was he supposed to fall madly in love with you without a name?

“Y/N,” You stuck your hand out awkwardly, Was this a ‘shake hands’ moment? Hadn’t you already met before? You stared at your hand as you moved it slightly back and forth, arguing with yourself whether or not this was necessary. Luckily, Rafael settled the argument by taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

His hands were so soft, his long fingers enveloped yours in them. You lost yourself in the moment, and before you knew it he was making an uncomfortable cough, snapping you back to reality. You dropped his hand and snapped yours back into your body like a zip cord, your face in a horrified stare.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry, that was so weird. I’m weird. I’m--”

“Well I don’t know what you were so worried about Cinderella, you’re clearly a chatterbox,” He gave you a tongued smile, referring to the word vomit you just couldn’t help spill all over him.

“Oh yeah, I’m a total word machine,” You laughed nervously. A word machine? What the fuck was that?

“...Word machine. Right,” He nodded in amusement. “Well word machine, would you mind shooting some words to my phone, or do you just enjoy this face to face thing?”

“With that face? Definitely the latter. But you can have my number anyway,” You typed a quick message and sent it to his number. Damn that was smooth! How did you do that?

Rafael made an impressed face with your line, but when he opened his phone his brows furrowed.

“Hit?” He gave you a curious look as he read the text out loud.

“Fuck it was supposed to be ‘hi’-- stupid autocorrect,” You muttered angrily. Yeah, that was more like you.

“Oh yes, the dreaded autocorrect,” He nodded while saving your number. “Turning fucks into ducks since 2011,”

“Oh I didn’t have a phone in 7th grade but I’ll take your word for it,” You laughed, but stopped when his face twisted into a mix of horror and discomfort when he realized how young you actually were.

Dammit. Why...why would you do this?

“....Right, is Rita in?” He quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed into Rita’s office before you could answer.

“...Idiot!” You yelled at yourself as your hands went over your face and your face planted into your desk.

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All 2.5 seconds of it.

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

“Well Barba, about time,” Rita smirked as Rafael abruptly burst into her office trying to get away from you. “Done flirting with the intern are we?”

“Shut up,” He rolled his eyes, though his face was a deep shade of red.

“Oh no, what happened? Did your dentures fall out in front of her?” She smirked.

“I’m younger than you!!” He scoffed.

“Yeah but I’m not the one trying to boff a 25 year old,” She smirked harder, making Rafael angrier.

“Can I just get the warrant I came here for, Rita?” He huffed.

“Oooh, struck a nerve there, did I?” Rita chuckled as she grabbed some papers from her desk and started to hand them to him. “Barba, for the record I’m really not judging you. If I were 20 years younger, I’d hit it too,”

“Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of ‘cats’ in college,” She winked.

“Wow,” Rafael held up his hands. “Rita, we really don’t need to be that personal.”

“Fine, but all I’m saying is if you like the girl, don’t let a stupid thing like age deter you. Don’t tell her I said this, but she’s actually very competent and organized. I would almost prefer her not to graduate, unless she'd come work for me. She’s going to be a hell of a lawyer,” She gestured outside to your desk.

Rafael looked at the ground as he mulled over what she was saying, a small smile crawled across his lips as she complimented your potential.

“I’ll take that under advisement, Mrs. Calhoun,” He nodded as he walked towards the door with the papers in his hand, a huge smile across his face now.

He walked out to find you cursing at yourself and whimpering in embarrassment at your desk. When you heard the door shut you snapped to attention and stared at him, shocked he hadn't sprinted out of the office like Usain Bolt. Even more shocking was that Cheshire cat grin now upon his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I totally meant I was--” You tried doing math trying to make yourself reasonably older.

“It’s fine,” He chuckled as he put a hand over your counting fingers. You blushed at the touch of his skin on yours again, but quickly shoved your hands under the desk nervously as you tried not to look him square in the eye. His eyes were so gorgeous you were positive staring straight into them would actually get you pregnant.

“So does Rita ever unchain you from this desk?” He smirked as he was now very aware and very amused at how nervous he made you. He may be old, but clearly he’s still got it.

“Oh yeah, if I ask very nicely she let’s me--” You tried to think of something witty, but it wasn’t coming with him staring at you with those eyes. “....Yes,” You wanted to put your hands over your face but you didn’t want it to be a ‘thing’.

“Well, maybe if you’re an extra good girl she’ll let you off your leash early tonight,” He winked.

“....Am I a dog or a toddler in that situation?” You were genuinely asking, but Rafael clearly realized how insulting that must have seemed.

“Oh no no no, I just, shit,” He tried to backtrack but if he was being totally honest, you made him nervous. Maybe he didn’t have ‘it’ as much as he thought.

You noticed he was the one blushing now, oh my god were you making him nervous? QUICK, BE SMOOTH. BE SMOOTHER THAN YOU’VE EVER BEEN IN YOUR LIFE.

“Are you asking me out, counselor?” You did your best “sultry “voice with a bat of your eyes. Were you batting them too much? What was too much? Oh god you’ve done it for too long now. STOP BATTING.

“...I don’t know, guess you’ll have to wait for me to text you, future counselor,” He was impressed by the line, and decided to bow out before either of you made idiots of yourselves again. He gave you a wink and sauntered out of the office.

Great. Now he’ll probably make you wait two days for a--

*BEEP*

Your phone went off in your desk. You pulled it out to see a text message:

BHOLE BARBA: Dinner? Tonight?

You really needed to change his contact name. But that wasn’t the point right now. He just asked you out. Rafael Barba just asked you out. You stared at in your hands, unsure of what to do. Then you realized you couldn’t do this again, you couldn’t just sit there and imagine things, this required an immediate response.

You nervously typed a reply and hit SEND:

Sire ;)

“DAMMIT!!!” You cursed your autocorrect. You instantly sent another text.

Sure***

Before you could lecture yourself again, your phone beeped again:

BHOLE BARBA: Play

Play? What did that--

BHOLE: Okay** ;)

You typed the word ‘okay’ into your text reply bubble, ‘play’ came up in the autocorrect word list.

He was joking with you. He was flirting with you. RAFAEL BARBA WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU.

This work day could not end fast enough.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #not my yacht #raul esparza

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 10

A/N: I can’t believe I’m already on part 10 for this series and to be honest it’s fun to write. And in all seriousness, the tumblr mobile app needs to allow you to put a read more link. But anyways love you all and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! Mwah! 🖤🖤🖤

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, some violence, and blood

“Im sorry, did you just say Madripoor?” You blinked at Zemo, dreading the destination ahead of you.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam questioned, looking between you and Zemo.

“Imagine Mos Eisley from Tatooine but without the aliens and blasters.” You tried to make an analogy. “In other words, a shithole. And to be honest, I’d rather be in Mos Eisley.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky explained to Sam.

“It’s kept its lawless ways.” Zemo added before turning to James. “But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You had a feeling Zemo would suggest all of you going in with different identities, and being the only woman in the group, you already had a wild guess you weren’t going to be ecstatic about yours. You looked to Bucky with a frown on your lips. You knew what Zemo had meant towards him, and you didn’t know how it would affect him to transition back into the person he tried so hard to deviate from. Bucky saw the sympathetic smile you gave him, and he returned it with a look that reassured you that he would be fine.

“Y/n.” Zemo now spoke to you, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “I’m sure you are aware of the conditions.”

“Zemo if you...” Bucky trailed off as he glared at him, silently warning him to watch what he says next.

Sam and Bucky kept their eyes on Zemo, waiting to hear what his suggested persona for you was and ready to beat his ass if he dared to suggest something that would be demeaning to you.

“No way in the pits of Tartarus. I am not going in as an escort.” You voiced with a clenched jaw. “And if it’s eye candy you need, you have Sam.”

Sam gave you a surprised look from your comment, flattered to have you recommend him to be the designated eye candy before going back to the topic at hand. “Hell no Zemo. You’re not having y/n pretend to be an escort.”

“I’m afraid Sam is already going as someone.” Zemo sat back with his hands folded in his lap. “And don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on having you go as an escort, it isn’t befitting of a baron like me. Plus, I figured it would be uncomfortable for you, so I was going to suggest you act as my fiancé, if you are willing of course.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering on the subject. You were a bit relieved in all honesty. But to pretend to be Zemo’s fiancé and be in close and almost physical proximities with him?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to y/n.” Sam uttered to you.

“I’ll do it.” You confirmed.

“Are you sure?” Zemo asked you again, making sure you were comfortable with acting the part.

“I thought Zemo might step out of line with this one, but we don’t want you to do something that will make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure. I’ve had to do things I wasn’t comfortable with plenty of times in the past.”

Once you had all landed, Zemo decided to stop by a place so that you all may get dressed. You had already packed a dress and a pair of heels with you just in case for situations like these, since this wasn’t the first time you had to dress up for a mission. The dress you wore was a black, burned velvet silk slip-like dress with the velvet print being dark red roses. The dress wasn’t too tight to be constricting of movement and fit perfectly around around your curves. If the situation should arise that you needed to defend yourself, you needed the freedom to be able to move. Going down, the fabric flared slightly at your hips, brushing barely against the floor with your heels on. The skirt was slightly sheer from the bottom of your thighs and down with the floral velvet print, and had a slit going up your right thigh, perfect for kicking and concealing your dagger. The top torso portion of the front of your dress was a spaghetti strap cowl neckline that stopped just above the curve of your breasts, allowing for just a bit of cleavage. Your back was left bare, stopping at your mid back with thin straps that came across in a pattern. Your dress almost had a Grecian/witchy look from the way it draped over your chest and hips. It wasn’t too formal or too scandalous, it was elegant and classy, and showed just the right amount of skin where it wouldn’t be too revealing.

Even though you completely loathed and detested heels of any kinds, your heels were fairly simple, made of black velvet with straps that came across your ankles and toes. You dreaded heaving to wear them but at the same time you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you wore your docs with these. Perhaps you should’ve brought your nicer sandals, but it was too late now. You kept on your mother’s necklace and wore a set of amethyst drop earrings, throwing on a silver cuff bracelet on each wrist. Your hair was let loose to conceal your short sword that you hid on your back underneath your dress, the hilt resting right between your shoulder blades. You prayed that having your hair down would cover the scars and the sword you had on your back. But you were mostly focused about the scars, you failed to mention them to the guys about it since it was something that was hard for you to share. The only makeup you had on was some eyeshadow and mascara to darken your eyes, very little blush, and a lip tint.

The last thing to do was to put on some perfume, so you spritzed on your favorite oil based one that you had from Olympus on your pulse points. The scent was filled with incense-like scents like dragon’s blood, sage, crushed red roses, sandalwood, ghostly white musk, absinthe, almonds, and heady gardenia. It wasn’t as harsh as the common alcohol based ones, this one was more earthy and ancient, and every time you wore it, the scent lingered and heads turned. You gave yourself a once over when you were done, taking in a deep breath before heading out to join the others.

You became nervous as you saw them gathered together, talking amongst themselves as they haven’t noticed you yet. You rarely ever wore dresses these days, especially of the kind you were wearing now which left you feeling bare and exposed even though the dress wasn’t at all much revealing. So as you approached them, you couldn’t help picking at your fingers in anxiety.

The men turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the ground, and when they laid their eyes on you, they couldn’t help but gawk with their mouths parted open, as if they had seen the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. You chewed on the inside of your cheeks as you saw how they stared at you.

“Wow.” Sam was the first to say something. “You look like a million bucks.”

“What? Never seen a woman in a dress before?”

“No, I’ve just never seen you in a dress before.” Sam answered. “You’re always dressed like some hippie/librarian, with your bands shirts, sweaters, plaid pants and jackets.”

“Haha vary funny.”

“Also since when did you have muscles?” Sam noticed as he poked your bare arm. “And since when did you have a tattoo?” He observed the mark you had on your upper right arm, right below your shoulder. It was the mark that was given to you to signify your Olympian status and what you represented. It was about the color that henna left behind after you wiped the paste off your skin, the color of ginger and bronze. The center of your mark was a lightning bolt, which represented a child of Zeus. Below that was your symbol, the torch and the triple moons.

“Since when did you start asking so many questions? But yeah, I’ve always had muscles Sam, I was trained in combat since I was, you could say 9 years old in human years. Also, technically everyone has them, it’s what allows us to move and lift things. And that.” You pointed to your tattoo. “Is my goddess mark, not a tattoo. Every Olympian god has one and they each have their personal symbol that represents them.”

“Wait, so you’ve been trained since you were a kid?” Bucky looked at you to clarify what he heard as they all started to head out.

“Technically, everyone on Olympus starts training that young. Then, when they become of age, a tournament is held to display their skills, following a ceremony after, to celebrate their victory.” You explained as you walked beside them.

The four of you were currently walking on the bridge that led to Madripoor. You could see the city’s skyline out in the distance, the cyberpunk like buildings lighting up the night sky.

“Do you need my coat?” You heard Zemo say beside you, making you look at him.

“Sorry?”

“Do you need my coat?” He repeated himself, referring to how your arms were bare against the cool night. “I wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

You stared at him, stunned from the kind gesture as you tried to form words to say. “Oh uh.....I appreciate the gesture, but I’m fine actually. I’m not that cold.” Though you didn’t want to admit it, you actually would’ve liked to try on his coat, because in all honesty it was a damn nice coat.

“We have to fix this.” You heard Sam say with irritation visible in his voice. “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing.” Zemo mentioned as he pulled out his phone to show Sam. “The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam observed the photo.

“You smell this?”

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam sniffed the air as you did the same.

“Smells rancid.” You scrunched your nose at the smell.

“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error.” Zemo instructed as a black car pulled up in front of you. “High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.”

“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” Sam remarked as he opened the door for the back seat.

“Y/n. A moment please, if you will.” Zemo uttered to you.

You stopped in your tracks, seeing Bucky and Sam stand on either side of the car doors, looking between the two of you and especially Zemo, with caution. You nodded your head at them, signaling you were fine and that they can get seated. And though they sat themselves inside the car, that didn’t stop them from keeping their eyes glued to Zemo to make sure he didn’t pull anything stupid.

“What’s the issue?” You turned to Zemo, giving him your attention.

“Since you will be portraying my fiancé, there’s a certain key element you will be needing to complete the image.” You watched as he pulled out a ring from his coat pocket, displaying it in front of you. “If I may?”

You stared at Zemo blankly before nodding your head and holding out your left hand for him. You knew this was only for a show, but you couldn’t help but stiffen as he delicately held your hand with his gloved one before slipping the ring onto your ring finger.

“There.” Hi smiled softly at you, his hand still holding yours. “Now you look the part.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, leaving behind a trail of warmth as he gazed down at you. Zemo swore he could have gotten lost in the violet swirls and gold flecks of your eyes forever, which now sparkled against Madripoor’s lit up skyline, the neon city and the places he’s visited not even coming close to the beauty he held before him.

You tried not to blush under his gaze as you gave him a polite smile before slipping your hand out of his. “I should probably change my eyes huh.” You remembered, changing your eyes to a normal color known to earth. “Should I hide the scar?” You asked him, referring to the one on your face.

“I think you should leave it. It suits you, and besides, you never know who might recognize you without it.”

Nodding your head at him, you headed to the car and settling in beside Bucky as Zemo followed, getting in the passenger seat in front of you. In the car ride there, you glanced down at the ring Zemo slipped on your finger, it was definitely a beautiful elegant ring, with a rose gold band and a pear cut garnet in the center that had diamonds that accented the bottom. Once you arrived in the city, you walked through the neon lit streets beside Zemo while Sam and Bucky followed behind. You loosened up your body as you went, swaying your hips slightly as you tried your best not to walk like a bodyguard and look threatening as everyone’s eyes followed the four of you strolling through the streets.

“Here we are.” Zemo announced, stopping in front of a bar before speaking to Bucky in Russian. “Ready to comply… Winter Soldier?”

As you went in, Zemo leaned in to whisper in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck and startling you as he spoke in a hushed tone. “I want to apologize in advance, forgive me.”

You looked at him with furrowed brows to question what he meant until you felt his gloved hand slide across your back before resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his side. You noticed how his hand fumbled after brushing across your sword as he gave you a questioning look. What was that on your back? Did you really conceal a full on sword on your back underneath your dress? On your way to the bar table you saw people stare as you went through, some of them gawking in surprise at Bucky, or the winter soldier as he was now portraying, while the slimy men in the area roamed their eyes over your body hungrily. Zemo noticed your uneasiness from the way your muscles tensed, though your face didn’t show a sign of it, and glared at the men who dared to lay their eyes on you, only pulling you closer to him to prove that you were with him while Bucky and Sam noticed this as well and positioned themselves where you were blocked from the view of your peers, allowing you to breathe a little better as you approached the bar.

“Hello, gentlemen.” The bartender greeted you all. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed.” Zemo answered for him. “We have business to do with Selby.”

“The usual?”

Sam nodded his head.

“And for the lady?”

“Um Something fruity.” You answered with a flirtatious smile, silently hoping they had something like that on the menu and that you hadn’t blown their cover by ordering the wrong drink.

The bartender handed you what looked to be a pineapple martini and you internally thanked the gods for your sheer bit of luck, taking the drink and thanking the bartender with another smile. You watched as he went to work on Sam’s drink, pulling out of a jar what definitely was a snake. You gulped, your stomach feeling nauseous as you saw the bartender cut open the dead snake, taking out its guts and throwing it in the shot glass. You were mortified to say the least, snakes were one of your symbols and you had owned plenty of the gentle little creatures. You shot Sam a sympathetic look once you saw his expression.

“Cheers.” Zemo held up his glass while Sam stared at his before gathering the courage to drink it all in one go. If Sam wasn’t going to throw up, you were going to do it for him.

While your eyes were trained on Sam’s expression, you felt someone breathe over your neck before feeling a clammy hand graze across your ass.

“Hey baby-“

Your eyes widened before you grabbed the wrist of the man behind you in one quick motion, twisting his arm to an unnatural position as you yanked it away from your body, causing the sleazy looking individual let out a yelp of pain. You would’ve crushed his wrist like crumpled paper if Zemo hadn’t put a cautionary hand on your arm as he whispered to you. “Careful now.”

You let go of the man’s wrist before shoving him aside like a pile of garbage. If their identity wasn’t at risk of being revealed, Zemo, Sam, and Bucky would have gone over there and beat the guy up after you were done with him.

“I got word from high. You ain’t welcome here.” You watched from behind Zemo as a bearded man approached him.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured towards Bucky.

“New haircut?”

“Or bring Selby for a chat.”

The man glanced between Zemo and Bucky before leaving.

“A power broker? Really?” Sam turned to Zemo.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” You asked.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

Another man was approaching in your direction, most likely to kick you all out or worse, and after following your gaze, Zemo turned to Bucky, speaking to him in Russian just as the man laid a hand on his shoulder. “Winter Soldier. Attack.”

You stood back, watching as Bucky grabbed the dude’s arm and twisted it back. You refrained yourself from intervening as Bucky took down the men that fought against him.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo commented to you and Sam.

Bucky slammed one of the men down on the counter. And as you heard the clicking of guns being loaded, your defensive mode nearly kicked in as you almost reached for your sword before Zemo stopped you.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo whispered to you both before turning to Bucky and speaking in Russian again. “Well done soldier.”

You let your arm drop back down to your side, not a single change in your expression as you eyed everyone around you.

“Selby will see you now.” The bartender spoke up after getting off the phone.

Zemo gave him a thanks, nodding you over and holding out his hand for you to take as you went to his side again, Bucky and Sam following after you. You went through a back door, going down a dark corridor with Zemo’s hand on your back as he guided you through.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” You heard a woman’s voice speak, turning your head to see an older woman in a suit with short white hair lounging back on the coach with her security around her.

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo sat down on the couch before waving you over when he saw you standing near Sam. “Come sit schatzi.”

You straightened up, plastering a smile on your face as you went over to him. Selby’s eyes followed you curiously as you placed your hand in his, your eyes rapidly moving in nervousness for what area would be the most appropriate area to sit. Were you......were you supposed to sit on his lap? Is that how couples work? No, that would be inappropriate. Before things got awkward, you quickly plopped down on the empty spot next to him, crossing over your leg in a way so that it draped over his, leaving your thigh completely exposed from the slit in your dress, save for the dagger that still remained hidden. Sam and Bucky widened their eyes at what you just did, while Zemo stiffened at this sudden movement from you as you also draped one arm around his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. Were you even doing this right?

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby observed the two of you before her eyes landed on your ring. “Who’s this pretty little thing?”

“This.” Zemo looked at you with a loving look, throwing an arm around your waist to draw circles on your bare back, while his other hand rested on your thigh, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin as you felt shivers go down your spine. “Is my fiancé. Gorgeous isn’t she?”

How long has it been since you were this close and personal to someone? The last you could remember, women still wore corsets and people still rode carriages. You felt your body heat up from being this close to him, and from the way he stroked your back. How was a mortal man able to leave you feeling like this? If he was able to send shivers down your spine with the mere touch on your back with his gloved hand, you wondered how it would feel to have his bare hands on you, just skin to skin. And if you were being honest, you never really were a fan of cologne but his smelled of a deeper earthy tones with hints of musk, and you were surprised and almost ashamed to say you liked how he smelled. You returned the same loving look to Zemo, trying to make it as believable as possible as you ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head before placing a kiss on his jaw close to his ear. Sam and Bucky couldn’t believe their eyes at the scene before them, the same you who preferred to be a hermit and didn’t go on dates because it involved human interaction, was cuddling up to none other than Helmut Zemo himself. Zemo’s breath faltered a bit from from your touch as he swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling not to break character. Being this close to you, he was able to get a whiff of your perfume and my goodness, Zemo felt as if he could drown in your scent, you smelled like the heavens, not overbearingly sweet, but dark and luxurious and even seductive. Is this what vampires and sirens smelled like when they lured people to their deaths? You raised a brow at Zemo, your heightened senses were picking up on his breathing patterns and heartbeat. Was he getting nervous?

“Extremely.” Selby commented, smirking at the two of you before roaming her eyes over your body. You could feel her taking you in but you kept your eyes trained on the side of Zemo’s face. “Where did you pick this one up? She looks like a fighter.”

“As they say, why not get a woman who can do both. She was part of the Sokovian armed forces, I met her through there.”

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” Selby added after finally taking her eyes off you.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby turned to Sam with a flirtatious grin, using her hand in a claw like manner as she let out a purr. “What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo got up off the couch, going over to Bucky and holding his chin between his fingers. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or… condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me. But.....” She turned you with a sly smile which made your insides turn. “Throw her in with the package and you have yourself a deal.”

Zemo, Sam, and Bucky turned to look at you with dread upon hearing her words. This wasn’t at all part of the plan.

“No, no no. That wasn’t the deal.” Zemo stepped over to where you sat, blocking you from her. “She’s not for sale.”

“Why not?” Selby raised her brow at Zemo. “I’m pretty sure a man like you could pick up someone else to be your plaything or fiancé or whatever. I like this one in particular.” She turned to you again.

“That’s not-“ Zemo started before he was cut off by Sam’s cellphone vibrating.

You breath was caught in your throat and it felt as if the room had dropped in temperature. You could feel the tension floating around the air as everyone’s eyes were trained on Sam now, making you sit up straight and uncross your legs so that they were planted firmly on the ground. Your hand rested on your thigh just above where the hilt of your dagger was as your eyes darted around the room, watching each and every person like a hawk about to swoop down on its prey. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thebivirgin @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail

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bellakitse · 4 years ago

Text

Carlos and Grace save the world

Carlos is surprised at first when Grace seeks him out, but when she explains that she’s worried about her neighbor possibly being abused by her husband, Carlos instantly agrees to help.

They become friends.

The story I wish they had in 2x05

(I started working on this about two weeks ago when we heard that Grace and Carlos would have a story together in the last episode. I then put it on hold to work on the tarlos valentine’s event. At the time, I was worried that the story would be pointless after the episode, and then the episode happened, and the story was given about a minute of airtime, so I figured I would finish this.)

Warnings for: Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Threats of Violence, and Knife injury.

Carlos will admit he’s a little surprised when Grace seeks him out. They don’t really know each other that well. The only interaction they really have is when he’s answering one of her dispatch calls. Or when the 126 is having some kind of gathering at the station like now.

Still, they don’t really talk.

“Officer Reyes?” she greets him with a tentative smile, coming up to him as he pours himself a glass of water. Around them, the 126 and extended friends and family mingle. They’d finally come together to honor Tim the way they couldn’t when the wildfires were roaring.

“Mrs. Ryder, hello,” he answers politely. He points at the pitcher of cold water in his hand, offering to pour her some.

“I’m good,” she answers with a shake of her head and another smile. “And please, call me Grace.”

“Only if you call me Carlos, ma’am,” he gives her a smile of his own; it grows as she lets out an amused chuckle and nods in agreement.

“Okay, that’s a deal.”

“Good,” he says jokingly. He puts the pitcher back in the fridge before turning to give her his full attention, frowning when he finds her fidgeting, shifting from foot to foot nervously. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” Grace blurts out, looking as surprised as him. “I wanted to talk to you about something, but now I’m not sure if I should, or if it’s any of my business – or if I’m even just imagining things and overreacting.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at the woman’s run-on sentence. “Well,” he starts off slowly and with caution. “I know we don’t know each other very well – ”

“We should change that,” Grace interrupts him with a kind smile on her pretty face.

“I completely agree,” Carlos concurs, liking Grace’s welcoming presence even before this conversation. “But what I do know about you is that you just don’t seem like the type of person who overreacts. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and we’ll see if I can help,” he finishes with what he hopes is an encouraging look.

“TK got himself a good one,” she says with a fondness that makes him blush slightly. “Okay, so I have this new neighbor, Rosie,” she starts to tell him.

Carlos listens as Grace explains about the newly married couple on her block, Rosie, a jumpy young thing, and her husband, Derek. He frowns as Grace tells him about her first encounter with them, the way the girl went from friendly and lively when they were alone in her front yard to subdued the moment her husband showed up.

“I can’t explain it,” Grace lets out a frustrated exhale. “He was friendly enough; he didn’t grab her in any way that would raise concerns, and yet alarm bells went off the moment he walked up to us. Even as she was smiling, there was something in her eyes that has stuck with me.” Grace sighs again. “Like I said, maybe I’m overreacting, looking for trouble where there isn’t any.”

“Grace,” Carlos starts with a shake of his head. “I have been on a number of your calls, and I hear you over the radio. You are an amazing operator because you have good instincts. If you’re worried about this girl, I don’t doubt you saw a reason for it. What does Judd say?”

Grace’s expression softens at the mention of her husband, her eyes shining with love and affection. “I haven’t told him yet. Judd, bless him, is so tenderhearted and protective. If I said to him that I think something is wrong with this slip of a girl, you better believe he would be pounding down their door before we even find out if something is really wrong.”

Carlos gives her an understanding smile. “Sounds like TK,” he tells her, earning a chuckle in return.

“Why do you think they clashed when they first started working together?” she questions with a twinkle in her eye that lets him know she’s heard as many complaints about TK from Judd as he’s heard from TK about her husband. “Those two are reckless softies who want to save the whole world, and if no one is there to check them, they dive in headfirst,” she says with a pointed look at him.

“Is that supposed to be us?” he questions jokingly. “We’re going to keep them in check?”

Grace shrugs easily. “Well, I married mine, so I pretty much signed up for the job. You’re still dating, so that’s up to you to decide.”

“Can you be my support group?” he questions. It’s not like he really needs to decide after all. He might not be married to TK yet, but he has known since the night of the solar flares and maybe even before that, that it’s his job to keep TK safe.

Grace grins at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners from her smile. “We can meet on Wednesdays for pie.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Carlos says easily, only half-joking. He likes Grace’s easy energy and can see himself becoming good friends with her. “Now, how do I help you with Rosie?”

֎֎֎

“You and Grace were talking for a while back at the station.”

Carlos looks up from the book in his hand over at TK as he comes out of the bathroom into his bedroom. He licks his lips as he takes his boyfriend in, dressed only in a pair of grey sweats that rest low on his hips.

“Carlos?” TK questions as he runs a towel over his hair, a smile taking over his face when Carlos jerks his gaze from all the tantalizing skin.

“Huh?” he questions, blinking a few times, hoping to focus. He blushes slightly at the knowing chuckle TK gives him in response.

TK throws the towel in the hamper before he crosses the distance to him. He presses a knee on the bed by his thigh, throwing the other over him.

Carlos quickly drops his book on the bedside table, freeing his hands to place them on TK’s hips as he comes to sit on his lap. He runs his thumbs over the soft skin right at the edge of TK’s sweats. This time it’s his turn to smile in satisfaction as the simple touch causes TK to shiver under it, his eyes going hazy and soft as he looks down at him.

“Don’t think you’re distracting me,” TK accuses him softly, even as he sits more firmly on Carlos’ lap, arching into his touch as he moves his hands from his hips to his back, fingers touching the constellation of freckles he now knows by memory. “You two looked deep in conversation. Is everything okay?”

“Grace has a neighbor she’s worried about,” he tells him, watching as TK goes from soft to tense and alert. “She has a bad feeling about the woman’s husband and asked for my opinion as a cop.”

TK frowns, concern replacing the previously touch-induced daze on his face. It’s not surprising to Carlos in the least. He’s pretty sure he’s never met anyone more empathetic than his boyfriend.

“Does she think he’s hurting her?” he asks, worrying his bottom lip in distress.

Carlos runs his hands up and down TK’s back once more, this time not to arouse but comfort. “Maybe,” he says with caution. From everything Grace told him, he understands her worry, but he also doesn’t want to make up an opinion before having all the facts. “She’s going to visit her tomorrow with some food as a late ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ thing, and asked me to tag along.”

TK bites down on his lip even harder, causing Carlos to reach up and press his thumb against it until he releases it. “Hey,” he starts softly. He tips TK’s chin to look at him in the eyes. “It’s fine. I’m just going for support and to offer a helping hand if there’s something to Grace’s concerns.”

“You’ll be careful?” TK questions, his voice low and worried. “Domestic situations have a way of spiraling out of control quickly.”

“Of course,” he answers, tugging TK forward. He lets out a content sound as TK settles on top of him. He turns his face into TK’s damp hair, giving it a kiss. “Everything will be fine, I promise,” he whispers, holding his boyfriend close.

Later, the promise will ring loudly in his ears.

֎֎֎

“Relax,” he says to Grace quietly as they stand on Rosie’s front steps. He arrived at the Ryder’s home thirty minutes earlier and waited as Grace finished her peach cobbler before they crossed the street, food in hand. “You’re just being friendly, and I’m tagging along for the ride.”

“Right,” Grace murmurs back as she presses the doorbell. She spares him a look with a raised brow. “That’s a nice shirt, by the way.”

“TK got it for me a few weeks ago,” he says, running a hand down the light-weight cream color polo. “The color makes me look less intimidating, don’t you think?”

Grace’s mouth quirks upward in amusement. “Carlos, sweetheart, you’re massive. I don’t think a soft-colored shirt will hide what you’re packing. Luckily you have a kind, gentle face to balance out all those muscles.”

Carlos grins at her, his smile growing when she rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah, you’re cute,” she mocks sarcastically, her dimples winking at him.

Carlos laughs at the begrudging compliment and Grace’s teasing ways. It reminds him a lot of his sisters and the way they gently like to mess with him. He’s still mid-laugh when a young woman with long light-brown hair and big green eyes opens the door. Her eyes remind him of TK, and he instantly feels protective of her. He remembers Grace calling her a slip of a girl, and he understands why. She’s small and sweet-looking in a heavy long sleeve shirt and print leggings.

“Grace?” she questions curiously, her eyes shifting quickly from Grace to him and back again.

“Hi Rosie,” Grace greets her with a bright smile that convincingly hides the tension she had moments ago. “This is my friend Carlos,” she points to him, not adding anything else. Better to keep her attention off him as he studies her. He takes in her clothes again, the shirt so big the sleeves come down to her fingertips, the thickness odd for the current warm weather. “He was visiting, and I mentioned I hadn’t had a chance to properly welcome you to the neighborhood, so we made you cobbler. Can we come in?”

Carlos smiles in what he hopes is friendly and reassuring as Rosie sneaks a look at him again. She looks over her shoulder towards the inside of the house before giving them a nod. “Sure, Derek is not home anyway,” she says, stepping aside to let them in.

He lets Grace cross the threshold first, but not before sharing a pointed look with his friend. The mention of her husband and her being comfortable with letting them in because he isn’t home already setting an alarm off for him.

“Sorry about the mess,” she says as she follows them into the living room, where there are still a few moving boxes on the floor. “I haven’t had a chance to put everything away,” she says with a self-conscious chuckle. “I can’t make up my mind where I want things to go. It drives Derek crazy.”

“It’s fine,” he tells her with an understanding smile, speaking for the first time. “When I first moved into my place, it took me a month to put up curtains because I couldn’t decide what color I wanted.”

Rosie gives him a small smile, her shoulders relaxing slightly at his comment. It only makes Carlos more tense and aware. He’s already starting to see what Grace was talking about. Even with the friendly smile on the girl’s face, there is an air of tension around her as she moves – the slightest shake of her hands as she takes the cobbler from Grace while she asks where Derek is.

“Oh, who knows,” she answers with a smile that looks more like a grimace. “He likes to wander about. This looks delicious Grace, thank you. I can’t bake to save my life,” she says with an awkward laugh. “I’ll serve some up, be right back.”

They watch Rosie walk into the kitchen silently before they turn to each other.

“Okay,” he starts once they’re alone. “You’re right something is up. She’s nervous, even scared. She only let us in because he’s not here, and I don’t like how she put herself down twice already, like someone who’s used to hearing negative things about themselves.”

“It’s pretty warm for a sweater today,” Grace comments quietly, her brow wrinkling in the middle as she frowns. “I don’t want to be right about this, Carlos,” she whispers, obviously pained by the idea.

Carlos has only known Rosie for a few minutes, and he knows exactly how she feels. He opens his mouth to reassure her that they will not leave without helping the young woman when the front door opens and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Derek – is almost as tall as him but slimmer, with limp, dirty blond hair and cold blue eyes. He has a mean look on his face that Carlos doesn’t like one bit.

“Who the fuck are you?” he sneers at them, making zero effort to hide the fact that he is not happy they’re in his home.

“Derek!” Rosie exclaims as she walks back into the living room with two small plates in her hands. Her eyes are wide as she looks at her husband. “Hi, baby,” she says, trying to smooth her expression out but failing as her eyes dart back and forth rapidly. “You remember Grace, right? She’s our neighbor from across the street.”

“Hello again, Derek,” Grace greets him, but there isn’t a hint of a smile on her face as she looks at him like a bug.

Derek notices if the way his eyes narrow is anything to go by. He turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “And you? Who are you?”

Carlos wonders for a second how he should play this, but as he catches Derek’s angry looks at his wife and how Rosie seems to be shrinking into herself the longer she stands by the archway of the room, he decides to rip the bandaid off and let the chips fall where they may. “I’m a friend of Grace’s, Officer Carlos Reyes with Austin Police.”

The reactions are, unfortunately, instant. Rosie drops one of the plates she’s holding in fright while Derek snaps his neck to look at her.

“What the fuck have you been saying?” he questions her, taking a menacing step forward.

Carlos moves too, getting in the space between them, holding up his hands defensively to Derek. “Back up, man,” he warns him, his voice hardening.

The ugly twist of Derek’s face grows nastier, meaner, and now that he’s closer, Carlos can smell the bourbon coming off him.

“Seriously, Derek, back the fuck up,” he grits out through clenched teeth when the guy takes another step forward, ignoring his warnings.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Derek all but shouts angrily. “This is my house, and I’ll do whatever the hell I want.”

“Like hurt Rosie?” Grace asks him with a stern look, and while Carlos understands the sentiment, he groans internally at the question and the way it takes Derek’s focus off him to Grace. Behind him, he can hear Rosie quietly crying.

“And what if I do,” Derek questions with another sneer. “What are you or anyone else going to do about it? She’s my wife. I can do what I want with her.”

Grace looks at Derek with the same look of disgust he feels. Quietly he pulls out his phone and sends a quick message to his partner, grateful he had the forethought of mentioning the situation to her before he came.

“Only cowards hurt their wives,” Grace answers with another nauseated look and shake of her head.

Carlos admires her bravery. It proves the wrong thing to say, though, as Derek sticks his hand in his pocket and Carlos catches a flash of silver.

“You have a smart mouth on you, don’t ya?” Derek snarls at Grace with a switchblade in his hand.

He moves, and Carlos does too without really thinking. Like with Rosie, he gets between Derek and Grace, only this time Derek is ready, and he swings his knife-carrying hand at him.

Grace and Rosie both shout, Grace quickly moving out of the way and towards the young woman when she tries to step forward to intervene.

“Derek, stop!”

“Put the knife down, Derek! He’s a cop!”

Derek doesn’t listen to either of them, and neither can Carlos, as he jumps back to avoid the knife being lunged at him. The fight happens for Carlos in a blur as he tries to avoid the blade, disarm Derek and keep him from turning his rage toward Rosie or Grace.

“Please stop!” Rosie screams again, loud, and so scared it breaks Carlos’ focus for a moment. Unfortunately, it’s a moment too long, and he lets out a shout of his own as the knife pierces his skin on the left side of his flank.

Grace shouts, alarmed. “Carlos!”

He holds her back with one hand as she rushes towards him. She shoves it away, placing hers on his wound to put pressure as his shirt quickly stains with his blood.

Derek stares wide at him, the realization of what he’s done coming over his face. He doesn’t have a chance to react further than that as Austin Police barges through the door, Carlos’ partner at the front.

Carlos leans on Grace heavily, and Rosie comes forward to help him stay up as the three of them watch Derek be dragged to his knees and handcuffed.

“You can’t stay out of trouble even on your day off, Reyes,” his partner shakes his head at him before signaling for EMS to come in.

He tries to roll his eyes at her, but he’s starting to feel lightheaded, and he’s just grateful when the gurney rumbles in.

Rosie and Grace hand him off, but not before Rosie apologizes, he tries to reassure her, but he finds it hard to speak as he gets sleepier. He thinks he hears Grace tell her it’s not her fault, and he nods tiredly in agreement.

Looking over at Grace, he smiles, hoping it will ease the worried look on her face. “TK is gonna be pissed about the shirt,” he jokes right before he passes out.

֎֎֎

Carlos wakes up to bright lights in his eyes. He groans, annoyed at them as he tries to cover his face and finds that he’s tugging on his IV.

The hospital, shit.

“Everything will be fine, I promise,” says a soft mocking voice to his right, and when he turns his head, he’s not at all surprised to find TK sitting there with a raised eyebrow, trying to hide his worry behind a sarcastic look. “Getting stabbed, needing surgery, and having your spleen removed doesn’t scream ‘everything is fine’ Carlos Reyes.”

“Hey, baby,” he rasps out, his throat dry like the Sahara. “Sorry about that.”

TK gets up with a deep sigh. He crosses the distance to him and leans down, pressing a kiss on his forehead before he lays his against Carlos’. “You were being a big damn hero, so I forgive you,” he whispers as he touches his nose to Carlos’. “But if you can please avoid getting hurt while you save the world next time, I would appreciate it.”

Carlos makes a humming noise in the back of his throat, closing his eyes for a moment as he basks in TK’s closeness.

“I would have to agree.”

Carlos opens his eyes to find two other people in the room he didn’t notice before. Grace and Judd sit on the other two chairs of the room, both standing when he looks over at them. They walk together to the foot of his bed, and Grace wraps her hand around his ankle, giving it a squeeze.

“If we are going to be friends and go on adventures together, you can’t end up stabbed, honey,” she says with a sweet smile on her face.

“Carlos and Grace save the world,” TK says with a proud but dry smile. He looks over at Judd, sharing a look with the older man. “God help us, brother,” he says, getting a severe nod in return from the cowboy, while Grace scoffs at both of them.

“We didn’t save the world,” Carlos protests at the repeat of those words.

“Tell that to that sweet, scared little thing you two helped get away from her abusive husband,” Judd answers, still somber.

“Yeah,” TK agrees with a nod. He combs a soothing hand through Carlos’ curls. “Pretty sure Rosie would tell you differently.”

“Is she okay?” He asks, seeking Grace’s eyes, letting a relieved exhale when she nods.

“Your partner had a social worker ready, and they are setting her up as we speak,” Grace assures him. “She said thank you.”

Carlos lets out another deep breath. “That’s good.”

Grace looks at him for a moment with a small frown on her face. “You had them ready, even when we weren’t sure if I was right – “

“I trust your judgment, Grace,” he interrupts, answering her silent question. “You knew – so I prepared.”

Grace gives his ankle another squeeze, and Carlos nods at her in understanding.

“We should go,” she says with a smile. “I’m sure TK wants to scold you some more and then smother you with kisses.”

TK lets out a sound of protest that has Judd snorting. It makes Carlos chuckle despite the pain it causes.

“Pie on Wednesday?” he asks Grace, grinning at the twinkle that enters her eyes as she smiles back widely at him.

“I’ll see you in my kitchen – 4ish?” she points at him. She starts to turn with Judd after he agrees, but the older man stands still, looking at him.

“Thanks for keeping my baby safe, brother,” Judd says to him quietly.

Carlos swallows hard, the weight of the words impacting him. He looks up at TK to find him staring at him with a soft loving look on his face. “You keep mine safe all the time, just returning the favor.”

The Ryders both smile at him as they leave; Grace makes a signal that she’ll call him, blowing him and TK a kiss before closing the door, leaving them alone.

“So you and Grace are friends now.”

“Yeah,” Carlos answers, smiling at the comment and how true it is. They’re friends now.

“That’s cool,” TK says, smiling as he sits at the edge of his bed. “But for mine and Judd’s sake, can you two keep the dangerous situations to a minimum?”

Carlos snorts at the comment, grinning when TK rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles sarcastically. “Look who’s talking, right?”

“You said it, not me.”

TK shakes his head, but his expression goes soft as he looks at him. “I was so scared when Grace called me,” he tells him with a trembling smile. “But then she told us how you kept her and Rosie safe, and I was so proud of you, baby.”

Carlos reaches for him, tugging on his hand until TK gets the hint, and lies next to him on the small bed, resting his head on Carlos’ shoulder, his arm going around him, careful of his wound.

“I love you,” TK whispers into the slope of his neck.

Carlos closes his eyes as tiredness starts to take over again. He’s in some mild pain, and he’s sure there is gonna be a mountain of paperwork later waiting for him, but Grace and Rosie are safe, and he’s in TK’s arms, so everything is okay in his book.

He turns his face towards TK’s, finding it inches away as TK looks up at him.

Pressing a kiss against his lips, swallowing the soft, peaceful sigh TK lets out, he whispers back. “I love you too.”

#911 lone star #carlos reyes #grace ryder #tarlos #tarlos fic #grace & carlos fic #911 lone star fic #my writing

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sorryimananti-romantic · 4 years ago

Text

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 3

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 9.9k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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

"But I want to sleep..." Seohyun complained.

"Is sleep more important to you than us?" Wooyoung asked.

"Of course it is. Is that even a question?" Seohyun raised her brow and Wooyoung gaped at her.

"We've been friends for long now, Wooyoung, I thought you knew better not to ask questions like these," Yeosang said, laughing.

It had been more than a month now since that incident with San. Seohyun looked at each of them slowly, smiling. Despite herself, she had gotten quite used to the company of these boys. And they were EIGHT. It was hard to not be alone. Even if some of them were busy, the rest would always fool around after school as well.

Seohyun had gotten to know them well now too. She knew that Hongjoong, the oldest, also acted like one. He had a thing for fashion, and had reformed her navy blue cap that she always wore, embroidering a cat on it.

Seonghwa was the mom of this group for sure. He was always keeping them in check, always stopping them from doing something stupid (which was most of the times) and always helping them with homework. He was very caring, and he couldn't hide that part of himself.

Yunho was the clown of the group, and surprisingly, she was getting along with him and Yeosang quite well. Yeosang and her had the savageness in common, which mixed well with Yunho's humor. Since the three sat next to each other, they would always pass a joke or two to her even during class, and she had to beg them to stop one too many times.

Wooyoung and Mingi were quite funny too. There was just something contagious about their smiles. Seohyun found herself smiling a lot in their company. It didn't help that Wooyoung laughed like a hyena; even when she had no reason to laugh, she'd burst out laughing when she heard Wooyoung laugh.

She was getting along well with Jongho too, especially because they were paired for a project. She hadn't had the chance to talk to him much but once she did, she found that he was actually quite witty despite his dad jokes, and that he loved singing and... breaking apples. Which was weird but it was fun to see how strong he was.

"All you do is sleep, Seohyun. You have to come with us now," San insisted.

Seohyun stared at San. She was glad they were out of danger -for now. The old ghost had finally moved on after realizing that killing Seohyun was not worth it (thanks to Jiwoo). San had gotten close to Jiwoo as well. When she was not hanging out with the boys, she was with San. He liked being in her company because apparently 'he didn't want to look stupid alone staring at the distance'. He could see all sorts of ghosts now and Seohyun was helping him practice differentiating between the living and the dead.

"All right, but if I see something stupid, I leave. Okay?" Seohyun locked eyes with him and he nodded assuredly, smiling and showing off his dimples.

Hongjoong had been insisting that she finally come to their 'second home'. Apparently it was a warehouse that Hongjoong's father owned but had no use for so Hongjoong turned it into a place for him and the boys to hang out. She had no idea what they did there, and they finally wanted to show her the place because they all 'approved of her now and accepted her as one of them'.

The warehouse wasn't far from school so they decided to walk there. The black cat was walking with them now. San bent to pick her up, patting her head.

"Still didn't come up with a name?" Seohyun asked.

"You rejected Shiber. I don't want any other name," San pouted.

"I told you you could call it Shiber, I'll just... call it whatever I call her... hey what do I even call her?" Seohyun wondered.

"You never actually call her, do you?" San laughed a little, caressing the cat's neck, "She sticks to you, and you didn't even give her a name. I'm disappointed in you."

"I couldn't find the right name," Seohyun mumbled, frowning.

"Still, she's been your friend for what, like a year now-"

"FINE. Shiber. That sounds like a male name though."

"It's my plushie's name, but she reminds me of it," San admitted.

"You're naming my cat after a plushie? SAN!" Seohyun punched San's arm, making him laugh out loud. Wooyoung joined them, grinning.

"San's had that plushie since he was a kid," Wooyoung said. "I'm not surprised that he couldn't come up with any other name."

"You should've told me before, I would have never allowed him to name the cat then..." Seohyun shook her head but grinned.

"We're here!" Hongjoong announced, and Seohyun took off her sunglasses as she looked at the large warehouse, the sun reflecting harshly back at her, making her eyes water.

They went inside, Seohyun stepping in last and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Mingi turned the light on, and she ran her eyes around.

"Woah," she breathed. It really did feel like a 'home'. The place had everything they could think of; sofas, couches, tables, a fridge for snacks, a basket for basketball, and so many musical instruments and equipment. "Are you guys secretly famous musicians or what?"

"Nothing like that," Seonghwa laughed, "We just really like music. Hongjoong is always making songs though. We fool around."

"I wouldn't call this 'fooling around'," Seohyun said, walking towards the equipment, stopping mid-way. "Can I?"

"Of course," several of them replied, nodding. She smiled as she ran her fingers across the piano, looking at the speakers and the mics. She saw some pages, probably lyrics scribbled on them, lying on the table near.

"So you guys... make music? Do you want to be idols or something?"

"For now, we're just exploring," Jongho replied, "Who knows? Maybe some of us might want to go into the musical side."

"So you all sing?"

"I'm the rapper," Mingi said, "Hongjoong raps too."

Seohyun made an impressed face. She pressed some of the piano keys, and something clicked at her mind. She looked up at Hongjoong as a grin spread across her face. "So that's why your fingers are always tapping at the desk. You make music!"

"Oh? I'm surprised you noticed," Hongjoong admitted.

"It's hard to not notice when you're sitting in my vision with fingers tapping nonstop while I'm trying to focus in class. You were doing something like this today, weren't you?" Seohyun said and played the keys that had unintentionally been printed in her memory.

"Woah, I'm more surprised that you remembered it!" Hongjoong clapped in disbelief and then narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you... know how to play?"

"The piano? Not much. But I have a drum set at home," Seohyun said and she saw as the boys looked at each other, applauding her.

"What?" Seohyun asked.

"We knew there was something about you," Wooyoung went on dramatically, waving his hands as he said "who knew we had a shared passion for music?"

"I wouldn't call it 'passion' per se, it's more of a... hobby. A stress-reliever, if you will. And stop ogling at me like you guys won a jackpot. I know what's going through your heads, and I say no."

"But you can play!" Mingi wailed, "We need more people to play the instruments! These guys-" he pointed at the boys one by one, "-they never learn!"

"Hey, hey, hey, look who's saying! Didn't you want to learn drums? What happened to that?"

"I don't have a drum-set!"

"I can play too!" Jongho and Yeosang complained.

Seohyun watched as the boys started arguing among themselves, and she shook her head. She had never imagined they like making music this much. If she had known, she might not have told them about her drums, much less her room full of instruments at a time like this.

"If you don't shut up, I'll never bring any instrument here."

"You mean you will if we shut up?" San asked, followed by Seonghwa who said, "You have more than one instrument?"

Seohyun sighed. "This is overwhelming, okay? Like I respect what you do, but I'm still new to being friends with you all, and it would take me some time to open up to you guys about the instruments. It's just... I have some memories- I don't really want to go back there."

"Oh..." San raised his brow and she bit her lip. She hadn't lied. She had some memories attached to those instruments that she would rather forget. It had been about two years since she'd played. She wanted to shut out that part of herself. She wanted to throw those instruments, but she hadn't been able to.

"Can you just... tell me which instruments you have, other than the drums?" Hongjoong asked cautiously.

Seohyun rolled her eyes. "Drums, bass, electric-"

"WOW!" Wooyoung gasped out very loud.

"-and violin. And I can play piano and guitar too. But it's been like two years since I last played so I'm probably very rough now..."

"Is one of your parent a musician or what?" Yunho asked.

"No, the drums were my mom's. The rest, I bought them when I was going through a phase."

"A phase. Wow," Yeosang snickered, earning daggers from Seohyun.

"Alright, we won't pressure you or anything. But you're free to play the piano if you want to," Yunho suggested, "and you're free to do whatever you want."

"Thanks for understanding," Seohyun muttered, smiling at him.

"But I wanted to learn the drums..." Mingi wailed.

"Who knows? Maybe I'll be the one to teach you," Seohyun said nonchalantly, making him smile his famous gummy smile.

"So anyways, what's with those mirrors?" Seohyun asked.

"Oh, that? We like to dance too," Jongho said.

"Oh my god. You guys should stop watching all those idol videos..."

"But we're good at it!" Wooyoung laughed, "And anyways, even if we don't go down that route, we love doing it anyway. It's our way of releasing stress."

"Sure," Seohyun nodded.

"Don't tell me you can dance too," Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at her.

"Oh no. I don't think I can," Seohyun admitted. Unless you could count those random 3 am sad twerks as dancing. The boys watched as she suspiciously tried to avoid their gaze, looking around.

"So now that we've told you so much about ourselves, how about you tell us something that we don't know?" Jongho suggested.

"I don't know what's there to tell," Seohyun said, her eyes unintentionally falling on San who lightly shook his head.

"Anything. Something. It's just that we'd like to know you more," Seonghwa smiled warmly at her.

"How about you just ask me and I'll answer? Because it feels like I'll never be able to start myself..."

"Or how about," Yeosang started, a devilish smile spreading across his face, "we play truth or dare?"

"Oh no..."

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

Yeosang made everyone sit in a circle, and though very reluctant at first, Seohyun had to sit down too (after being dragged by Wooyoung). They discussed the rules; they could choose between truth or dare, and if a person didn't want to answer a question they should just say so instead of lying, which would earn them a penalty.

Hongjoong spun the bottle, and Seohyun prayed it would never land on her. At least not today. She wasn't feeling it. She still thought that the eight of them were well knit as they were, they didn't need her between them.

The bottle landed on Yunho, and he laughed nervously. Jongho asked truth or dare, and he replied with dare. Not fair, Seohyun thought. She wasn't sure she would ever choose dare. She had no idea what sort of dares they were gonna give.

"Alright, show us your golden retriever! You haven't done that in a long time!"

"Golden retriever?" Seohyun asked. She had heard them talk about it once or twice, but she had no idea what it was about.

"Ah, I'm getting nervous~" Yunho laughed awkwardly. She supposed it was because he was gonna do it in front of her for the first time.

"Come on, don't be shy," Wooyoung teased and he nodded, taking in a deep breath. He turned his head back, then looked forward, his eyes a bit wide as he made a paw out of his hand and flicked it, barking in the cutest way possible.

Seohyun was silent for a moment before she burst out laughing. She was howling at this point, making the rest of them laugh too.

"At least I made her laugh!" Yunho said proudly.

Seohyun wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. "That was hilarious. You really do look like a puppy, Yunho."

"Thanks?" Yunho said and laughed.

"Alright, next!" Jongho said, spinning the bottle, and to Seohyun's relief, it stopped at Hongjoong who was right next to her. He wailed.

"I choose... dare."

"You all are gonna end up choosing dare. I'll be the only one choosing truth it seems," Seohyun groaned.

"You know what to do," Yeosang said, locking eyes with Wooyoung who nodded. "Michael Jackson impression."

"NO! I CHOOSE TRUTH!"

"It's too late to turn back now!" San said.

"It's embarrassing enough to do it even in front of one of you, and now there's EIGHT of you. Alright. Here goes nothing." Hongjoong got up and straightened his clothes. He took a few steps back so everyone could see. He made the famous pose and sang Billie Jeans, attempting to mimic Michel Jackson's style. It would have been okay if everyone hadn't burst out laughing, making Seohyun laugh a little too.

"How did you even come up with this?" Seohyun asked in disbelief.

"I don't even remember now..." Hongjoong pouted. He spun the bottle, and it landed on Wooyoung.

"Truth," he smiled rather proudly, folding his arms.

"Who do you love more, Hongjoong or Seonghwa?" Yeosang asked. The rest of them laughed as Wooyoung's eyes went wide in panic.

"That's like you're asking if I like mom or dad more! Isn't this unfair?"

"Who did you like more though?" Jongho asked.

"Mom-"

"You like Seonghwa more. Alright, next!" Hongjoong concluded, leaving Wooyoung attempting to explain that it was not like that anymore and he liked both of them equally, but everyone was ignoring him. Seohyun thought it must be an inside joke too.

"Your turn," San smirked at her. Seohyun, who had been distracted and hadn't seen the bottle spin, eyed them suspiciously.

"I move my eyes off the bottle for a second and it lands on me. Are you sure you didn't cheat?"

"We did NO SUCH THING," Wooyoung huffed.

Seohyun locked eyes with each of them. "Fine. Truth."

She watched as the boys looked at each other, suggesting questions while Seohyun tried to calm the rumbling storm of nervousness in her stomach. Should she have gone with dare?

"Can we ask... anything?" Mingi looked at her and Seohyun shrugged.

"I mean, we're friends now, right? So go ahead. If I think it's too personal, I'll say so." Seohyun nodded and the boys looked at each other before finally turning to her.

"What's the real reason you don't have friends?"

Seohyun's eyes unintentionally went to San's, and the boys noticed, looking between the two of them. San shrugged, as if saying 'I tried.'

"Does... San know something?" Seonghwa asked cautiously.

"You don't have to answer, you know that right?" Yeosang added.

Seohyun sighed deeply, nodding. She looked at San again, who nodded back, pointing behind her and mouthing Jiwoo. Seohyun sighed in relief now. She might as well give it a try.

"Since you guys shared something today, I will too. But it's kind of... weird. Unbelievable. You might think I'm lying. You might think worse things. Whatever you think, do tell me, because I can prove it."

"Don't tell me you're some sort of a secret agent," Yeosang said, earning a slap from Hongjoong who shushed him.

"Alright, we'll hear you out," he said.

"I... can see ghosts. The dead."

There was a moment of silence before Jongho raised his eyebrow. "What? You mind saying that again?"

"I said I can see the dead. I can see ghosts. I can touch them. I help them move on."

While the boys exchanged looks, still in disbelief, San smiled at her and Seohyun nervously laughed. She had finally said it out loud.

"So you can... see ghosts? Like in the movies?" Mingi asked.

"Yep. They're just like us. Unless they're old."

"How do we believe you? I mean, you could be joking," Yunho asked.

"Well, San knows," Seohyun said, and everyone looked at San, who nodded, then looked back at her.

"How does he know?" Wooyoung asked.

"Long story. He got caught up in something, which led him to discover my secret and eventually led him to seeing ghosts too."

"You both are mad." Wooyoung laughed nervously.

"You want proof?" Seohyun challenged.

"Sure. I can do with that," Wooyoung folded his arms, anticipating.

"Alright folks, you're in for a surprise," Seohyun heard Jiwoo say. Jiwoo rubbed her hands and went near Seohyun, picking her hair and making it look like it was flying in the air.

The boys... shouted.

"MEDUSA!" She heard someone shout amidst them. San tried to calm them down but it was no use. They all were... freaking out, to put it simply. Half of them were gasping while the other half was laughing in disbelief.

Jiwoo dropped her hair down and they watched as she pulled the sunglasses off her shirt and the glasses magically disappeared.

"Where did the glasses go?" Wooyoung asked.

"Ji- the ghost. Her name is Jiwoo. She's a friend of mine. So when she takes something of mine, it would disappear once I'm not holding it anymore. But-" Jiwoo handed her the glasses back and they watched it appear out of thin air, "when she gives them back, here they are."

"Is this... magic or really a ghost?" Jongho asked.

"It's a ghost, believe me," San finally said.

"So you can see ghosts now too? How?"

"Let me explain," Seohyun said, and narrated the events, giving a little backstory about how she was born with this, and that she actually helped ghosts move on.

"That's kind of cool though," Yunho commented.

"Wouldn't call it cool," Seohyun muttered and Seonghwa noticed.

"It must not be easy to live like this..." he said, and she hesitantly nodded.

"Is that why you changed schools so often?" Hongjoong asked and she nodded. The boys looked at each other, trying to figure out what to say.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that again," Yeosang said, "We'll help you. You won't have to move again if something happens."

"It's not that easy, Yeosang. If something unexplainable happens, I won't be able to hide it."

"Oh don't worry about that," Mingi laughed, "unexplainable things always happen to me. We'll cover for you, trust me."

Seohyun was, for the first time, touched by how earnest they sounded. They really were a weird group of friends.

"I'm kind of jealous that San can see ghosts now too," Hongjoong sulked. "Can't we see too?"

Before Seohyun could answer, everyone else burst into complains too about how they wanted to see too. "Hey hey," Seohyun began, "first of all, it's too risky. I almost died and then San was able to see."

"WHAT!"

"You forgot to tell them that part," San muttered.

"Ah, right. So when I had to teleport San, we ended up in the other dimension, right? So I had to teleport again, and I had a massive nosebleed plus headache. I passed out too."

"Oh..."

"Even if it was easy, I would never do that to you. And I wish I could take it away from San. I wish it would fade," Seohyun said, and San looked at her, shocked. He had not expected this.

"It's not about it being cool, San," she locked eyes with him, "Being able to see ghosts mean you're attracting danger every second. Thank god you can't touch them. That means they're not able to touch you, not directly. I want you all to be safe, that's why I won't ever do that to the rest of you."

There was a moment of heavy silence, then Seonghwa broke the ice. "I understand. It's okay, you don't have to do that. We want you to be safe too, so if you're ever in some sort of danger, don't hesitate to ask for help."

"Thanks Seonghwa, I really appreciate it." Seohyun smiled.

"It's really unbelievable though. What does this ghost look like?" Wooyoung asked, eyes brimming with curiosity.

Seohyun grinned a little. "Well, she's a girl. Jiwoo. She's about my height, has long black hair with red streaks. Has a mole on her cheek. Also, she's weird-"

Jiwoo kicked Seohyun's back lightly, but she just continued. "She died in a car accident. A ghost with amnesia. Unbelievable is the right word, Wooyoung."

"Woah. She sounds familiar though..." Wooyoung looked towards Hongjoong who shook his head. Seohyun noticed but didn't comment on it.

"So you're waiting for her to remember so she can move on?" Hongjoong asked.

"Yeah. She's been sticking with me for months now, and I got used to her."

"Ah... that's understandable," Hongjoong looked at his wristwatch, "Anyways, we should go home now. it's late."

"I thought we were playing truth or dare. This turned into a horror show. How will I sleep at night!" Mingi wailed dramatically, making them laugh. Wooyoung called him 'scaredy cat' and San said, "Like you're one to say."

Seohyun smiled at Jiwoo. This had been an unexpected night, and she had never expected them to believe her and not make fun of her. She looked at the boys, bickering, and smiled at them.

She felt comfortable.

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

The next few days at school had been... annoying, to put it simply.

The boys were very excited at the new discovery about their friend they had made. They simply couldn't contain themselves- save for San, and Seohyun found her patience wearing off day by day.

It wasn't that she was ungrateful for how things had turned out. She simply hadn't expected this sort of a behaviour. Secondly, she did not know how to deal with 7 excited boys who couldn't stop asking her the most stupid of questions.

She had to admit some of the questions did make sense. Like Yeosang asking if a ghost's touch and human's touch was any different. Seohyun shook her head as she thought of how the question had shook her.

"What do you mean?" Seohyun asked.

"Do you feel different when a ghost touches you? Like, Jiwoo. Does her touch feel different than a regular human's?"

Seohyun inhaled sharply as she was reminded of the time she had spent in her music room, laughing, with him, holding his hand, touching-

"I'm sorry, was it a wrong question?" Yeosang finally asked and Seohyun realized she had been staring at him too long.

"Uh, no. I'm sorry I zoned out. I suppose it is- it is a bit different. I don't know how to explain it. It's not... warm."

Seohyun shook her head as she waved off the memory. Another memory made its way....

"This friend of yours, Jiwoo," Hongjoong asked, "is she here right now?"

"She may not find the idea of dying twice appealing," Seohyun muttered.

"What?" Hongjoong furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Now why would a ghost attend school? Surely she doesn't wish to die of boredom. AGAIN."

Hongjoong laughed. "So she's not here? Do you know her full name?"

"Ahn Jiwoo, I think," Seohyun replied. She noticed Hongjoong's eyes gleam as his mind worked.

"How old do you think she is? And can you describe how she looks like?"

"Playing detective, are you?" Seohyun raised her brow.

"Just answer. I may have something."

"Well, she looks our age, maybe a year older, she has an average face, honestly I haven't noticed much. She does have red hair."

Hongjoong nodded slowly, and Seohyun asked when he was going to let her in.

"I'll just check something. If it's true, I'll tell you."

Seohyun shook her head again. She should really be focusing on class. But her mind went back to think of the stupid questions. Yunho had asked if 'ghosts could eat' and when she had replied no, he said he was just wondering if they did eat, did they excrete as well. And if so, was the ghost realm full of-

Shit, she thought as she heard Yunho giggling. "You keep shaking your head. What's wrong?"

"Believe it or not, I was actually thinking about you," Seohyun admitted.

"Oh?" Yunho turned a bit towards her, smirking. "And what scandalous thoughts made you shake your head so much?"

"How in the world could your brain wonder if the ghost realm was full of ghost shit?" Seohyun almost shouted, but clearly she hadn't been quite as well. She earned a warning glance from her teacher and sunk in her chair as Yunho shook with silent laughter.

After the class was over, Hongjoong made his way to Seohyun.

"Is Jiwoo here?" He asked.

"Again, no. Why are you so interested in her?" Seohyun folded her arms and Hongjoong snatched Seonghwa's seat from his spot, sitting near her and placing a book on her desk.

"This is last year's yearbook. We have some photos from an event, and I want you to tell me if you spot Jiwoo."

Seohyun raised her eyebrows. Jiwoo- she could have been a student here?

She supposed it was possible. San turned too, muttering how he can recognize her too, and they flipped the pages, checking each one carefully until finally San pointed at a person and looked at Seohyun, who had paled.

"That's... Jiwoo. How did you know, Hongjoong?"

"I guessed when you told me her name. San told me how she had died of an accident and had amnesia, and I could remember hearing something about a senior here who had died in a car crash. So I put 2 and 2 together and here we are."

"But, this doesn't help much, right? We only know that she was a student here. What's this got to do with how she died, and why she is still here?"

"There were rumours circulating her death," Hongjoong sat back, "Her father was a prisoner falsely accused of some crimes, and she was trying to get justice. I talked to some of my senior friends, who had been her classmates, and they told me that she had started receiving some threats."

"And they must have given all this information to the police too?"

"Yes," Hongjoong nodded, "Now you know her identity. You can talk to her friends, go to her home, and finally help her move on."

San felt his heart sink as he looked at Seohyun. They both were thinking the same thing. Seohyun had grown very attached to her and she did not want to do this. She gulped, and nodded slowly.

"Of course. I guess I should thank you..." As the words left Seohyun's mouth, Hongjoong heard something bitter in her tone.

"Did I do something wrong?" Hongjoong asked, and Seohyun didn't reply, only shook her head no, and San shushed Hongjoong, mouthing that he'd explain later. Seohyun got up abruptly, her bag falling off from the chair. But she didn't hear it. She couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything.

"I need some air," she muttered and rushed out of the classroom, leaving the boys staring.

"Shit," San clicked his tongue, "You did the right thing, Hongjoong, but you have to understand. Jiwoo is her friend. A sister to her. If she moves on... I should go after her."

"Are you sure I did the right thing?" Hongjoong asked him as he gave him space to move. San nodded and went after Seohyun.

"It looks like there's more to the story than she lets on," Yeosang commented. Hongjoong only looked at the door. It did seem like it.

San ran around the 1st floor where their class was, then went downstairs, hoping she was somewhere here. After checking the empty rooms, he went outside, towards the lawn, and found a figure sitting near a tree, staring in the space. He narrowed his eyes, then spotted the cat wandering around her, and his shoulders sank in relief.

He wasn't sure if he was the right person to be there. Surely Seonghwa could comfort her better. Or Yunho. But he was the only one other than Seohyun who would miss Jiwoo. He could relate to her, somewhat. So he decided to sit down beside her.

As he did so, he realized she was shaking. San looked at her worried. "Seohyun? Are you alright?"

Seohyun couldn't breathe. She was having some sort of an attack, like the ones she had about two years ago. She heard San alright, but she was afraid if she spoke, she'd cry.

"Here, have some water," San uncapped the bottle and closed her hand around it, and she managed a sip then handed it back to San.

"This is about Jiwoo, right? She's your friend, and you don't want to let go of her. I understand, Seohyun."

Seohyun sighed, fisting her hands. It wasn't just about her. It was the flood of memories that had come crashing without a warning when she thought of Jiwoo disappearing.

San put his hand on hers, caressing it, hoping it would give her some sort of comfort. He looked at her. All her walls, her strong walls she put around her were breaking down. Her lips were parted and wobbling. She looked like she might cry any second.

"You want to talk about it?" he whispered, and she sighed, nodding, taking deep breaths. She wouldn't cry. Not right now.

"You know it. I have grown attached to Jiwoo. Hell, she practically lives with me. I shouldn't have allowed this in the first place. I knew she was going to move on someday, yet I grew emotionally attached to her. I'm so weak."

"You're strong because you helped her too. She had no memories. How do you think she would have felt if not for you? She couldn't even go to her family or friends. You became that for her."

"I know," Seohyun bit her lip. "It's not just that. It's... I- I had someone. Like her. He and I... We were close. And one day, he was gone-" She bit her lip again, taking a deep breath.

"It's okay. You had no one then, right? You have us now. You have more friends than you could have ever thought of. You're so brave, Seohyun," San said, putting an arm around her shoulder, rubbing her back as he smiled. "You're one of the strongest people I know. We're both going to miss Jiwoo, but we have to help her move on. You don't want her to stay here too long now, do you?

Seohyun shook her head. San smiled again as she looked at him, making her smile a bit too. "There. We'll send her off with a celebration, okay? No more sadness. Okay?"

"Okay," Seohyun smiled. She could do that.

"Let's get back to class," San said, getting up first then helping her up. She dusted off her clothes and they walked in comfortable silence back, though San had to admit he felt weird. His heart... wasn't acting right.

Hongjoong casted a cautious glance at Seohyun as she entered, but she passed a little smile as she settled. Yeosang looked curiously at her, and she made a face.

"Is something bothering you?" Yeosang finally asked. He watched as Seohyun sighed. Sometimes it felt to him like she was carrying the weight of the whole world on her shoulders. Like she would bend under the pressure.

But she was strong too. She passed a little smile and said, "Yes. I'll talk about it later."

Yeosang just nodded, watching her curiously as she stared at her notebook. And then she sat back in her seat, staring at San.

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

"You're telling me that I was a student here? That this is a big, big 'coincidence' that you had to transfer, of all the schools in the city, right here?"

"For the hundredth time, Jiwoo, yes. I know you think I transferred here on purpose, that I somehow found about your life and didn't tell you, but believe me, this is a big, big coincidence." Seohyun replied, looking at San for help.

San shrugged, saying, "The way you're always hanging around Seohyun, when do you think she even had the time to plot this?"

Seohyun clapped her hand, smiling approvingly at San. "See? I told you he isn't that dumb. That is a great point, San." She watched as San shook his head, the faintest trace of smile on his lips.

The three of them- with the cat, of course, had this meeting in the same park that Seohyun and San had once teleported in. It had took a few days for Seohyun to finally settle with the fact that yes, Jiwoo was going to move on. But it won't be like before.

Seohyun found herself thinking of that time. The piano. His slender fingers gracefully playing music. His hands guiding hers across the keys. His contagious laugh. His deep eyes, covered by dark tendrils of hair-

"Earth to Seohyun?" Jiwoo was clapping in front of Seohyun now and she blinked. She cast a quick glance at San, who was watching her more confused than curious.

"Yeah. I'm back. What are you planning?"

"I suggested we show her the photo. She might recognize some people from the photo." San said.

"Also, I walked around the school building a few times, and it did feel familiar. I thought it was just because it was a school and schools are, you know, pretty much built the same. But I would have the strongest of headaches when I walked there," Jiwoo admitted.

"A ghost having headaches? Here's something to tell Yunho," Seohyun thought out aloud, "Though one might think that death would relieve you of all worldly headaches..."

"It's probably because of my amnesia. But yeah, San's right. I'll have a look at the photo. I'll come to school tomorrow."

----------

"Wow, that's me," Jiwoo gasped.

"Of course it's you," Seohyun muttered. Jiwoo ignored her and continued to stare at her picture. Seohyun cast a look at the boys. They were watching the book flip pages on its own, their mouths slightly open in surprise.

"She can hear us, right?" Wooyoung asked Seohyun, who wanted to make fun of Wooyoung but wasn't quite in the mood. She was more busy thinking if Jiwoo would indeed remember something.

"Come closer, Jongho. We're still in class, no one should see the book moving on its own," Mingi motioned with his hand.

"No one is looking unless you start acting weird," Yeosang commented.

"I'm having the worst headache right now. Is this normal?" Jiwoo asked.

"You're a ghost, unnie. Nothing's normal about you."

Jiwoo tsk-ed at her and then looked at Hongjoong. "He should know something about where exactly I died. If it was an accident, I might be able to remember something."

"Not sure if that would work," Seohyun's mood was very gloomy. San shook his head at her, and she sighed before asking Hongjoong if he knew something about where she had died.

Hongjoong, to Seohyun's dismay, said he'd find out in a minute. It looked like he texted one of his friends, and while they were waiting for an answer, San told the boys what was happening just so they would stop asking after each second.

Seohyun caught Hongjoong glancing at her, as if trying to convey a message. Seohyun understood and casually checked her phone, indeed finding a text from Hongjoong, which read:

There's a possibility that her death might not have been an accident

Seohyun frowned. Was she murdered? Or did she commit suicide? She felt as if it would hurt Jiwoo no matter the answer.

What do you mean?

Hongjoong replied:

I'll tell you later.

With that, Hongjoong told Seohyun out loud that his friend would have to ask around for the address, and that settled it. Jiwoo announced that she was gonna roam around the school again, and maybe that would make her remember something too. She asked San to remind Hongjoong to find out her home address too. That would certainly spark a bulb, if nothing else.

As soon as Jiwoo walked out of their classroom, Hongjoong brought everyone closer. "My friend gave me the address. It's near a restaurant here."

"Why didn't you tell Jiwoo?" San asked.

"When Jiwoo passed away, her friends were told that it was an accident. But according to my sources, they say she was out with some of her friends. They had somehow gotten in an argument, causing her to flee and accidentally crash with a car."

"So it is an accident, right?" Seonghwa asked.

"That's the thing. Some people say that one of them pushed her in front of the traffic, and that they are all covering it up. We have got to find out what happened. Before we tell Jiwoo."

Seohyun pursed her lips. This is not how she thought it would have turned out. Sure, most of the ghosts she dealt with had usually been murdered. But that didn't make hearing any of this easier.

"Alright, we will find out. We need to distract Jiwoo. San, you'll help me out, right?"

"Of course," San said, sitting straighter. Seohyun laid out their plan; they were gonna divide into two. San, Wooyoung, Yeosang and Jongho would lead Jiwoo to a false address, somewhere far from where the rest of them were going to go and actually investigate what really happened. If she had died in a car crash, however that happened, the people around would remember and would be able to recall the incident.

After school, they told Jiwoo that she would go with San to check if that was the right place, since Hongjoong's source could be 'unreliable'. Meanwhile the rest of them were going to find out her home address by asking around. Jiwoo didn't suspect them thankfully, and gladly went along with them.

"I have the home address too," Hongjoong said, "It's on the way to the restaurant. We should pass by there too."

"Yeah," Seohyun muttered. "Do you think I should talk to her family too?"

"I think you should, but after we visit the restaurant. That would certainly give us more information. because all you have now is nothing about the real Jiwoo."

"Point." Seohyun thought it was kind of ironic. She knew nothing about how Jiwoo would have been when alive. The thought of it made her heart twist with pain.

As they walked to the site, Seohyun was so lost in thought that she didn't see the rest of them exchange nervous glances. They all realized that Jiwoo had been her only friend for a good while. And they could definitely see how difficult it was for Seohyun to let her go.

"Can I ask you something?" Seonghwa finally said.

"Whenever someone asks me if they can ask me something, it's usually going to be something about my personal life. Go ahead, shoot."

Seonghwa shook his head. "How many ghosts friends did you have to let go of?"

Seohyun stopped in her tracks. It took her a second before she started walking again. "That is a very good question, Seonghwa."

Mingi and Yunho exchanged looks. They knew she always made remarks like these when trying to avoid something. "Jiwoo has been your friend for a few months. It must be hard for you."

"It is, actually," Seohyun admitted. "And most of my friends, sadly, have been ghosts. They're a better company. I sharpen my dark humor on them. I make a lot of dead jokes, if you haven't noticed that already."

"I did," Mingi raised his hand, smiling sheepishly. "Knowing you can actually see ghosts makes them more funnier."

"I know," Seohyun smiled back.

They finally reached the restaurant. It was a traditional one, with tables set outside as well as inside. Potted plants made for most of the décor, a stark contrast to the mauve and white theme, and the scent of spices filled the air.

Seohyun's eyes traced what could have been a possible path; Jiwoo walking out of the door, a car speeding forward-

"How do you suppose we're gonna find some information? We can't just go and ask them to show us the CCTV footage or something," Yunho said, looking pointedly at the camera.

"We won't have to," Hongjoong said, "We just have to make up a good story. Come on, we're eating something from here."

"Really, Hongjoong? Do you think we have the time?" Seohyun asked.

"Trust me. Come on," Hongjoong said, not waiting for them and walking inside. They seated themselves in the corner, and a waiter came to take their order. After ordering some barbeque, Hongjoong told them that he was going to ask for water while they would be in the middle of eating, and they would start talking about the incident. When the waiter comes, he would hear them talk about it, and provide his comments on the topic without asking.

"If I was the waiter, I'd kick you out," Seohyun said, sitting back and folding her arms, making the rest of them snicker.

"This works every time," Hongjoong said, his eyes glinting with challenge, as he mirrored Seohyun's pose.

"And what if he doesn't talk?" Seohyun asked.

"In that case, I have a backup plan. I don't come unprepared." Hongjoong said, and Seohyun rolled her eyes, looking at Yunho who was sitting beside her.

"Is he always this confident about himself?" She asked.

"When he's sure, yes," Yunho nodded.

"Don't tell me he's a secret investigator or detective or something," Seohyun muttered.

"I could make some similar assumptions about you," Hongjoong muttered back.

"Shut up, blueberry."

"You should, you old-"

"Just because I have grey hair doesn't mean I'm old-"

"Stop it, you both," Seonghwa laughed. Hongjoong pouted. "But do you dye your hair?"

"Yeah. Some years ago I went blonde. Now I prefer the more... dead tones, if you will," Seohyun said, and Mingi grinned. "How's the drum learning going, Mingi?"

"Ah," Mingi sighed, "I still make do with boxes and plates. I think I could do a good freestyle if I had an actual drum set."

"I used to air drum all the time. You should drum along to some songs you like. Really helps."

"I'll try that," he smiled.

"When do you think you're showing us your music room?" Hongjoong asked.

"Not anytime soon," Seohyun said. Before Hongjoong could ask something, they saw the waiter come with their food. Hongjoong muttered ''play along' and started speaking.

"I've been wanting to try this place for a while now. But I heard there was some sort of accident here, so I couldn't come." Hongjoong widened his eyes in signal and Yunho began, "Oh I've tried, and I'll tell you, it's really good."

The waiter set their food, and Seohyun watched Hongjoong and Yunho go on about the restaurant, slightly amused. As soon as the waiter went, Hongjoong frowned at them.

"The three of you could have said something."

"This seemed more natural," Seohyun said. "Two guys raving about food. Nothing suspicious about that."

After a few bites of the amazingly juicy barbeque beef, Mingi asked for water. Hongjoong cleared his throat.

"I heard a girl died somewhere around here. They're saying it could be murder. People these days!"

"I'll tell you, sir," the waiter, a middle aged man with wrinkles around his eyes began, surprising Seohyun, "it was an accident. A bunch of students. The usual crowd. Had an argument and the girl went out in a rush- nobody followed. A few seconds later, we heard a horrible sound and screams. The people out there witnessed it."

"But why would people say she was pushed?" Seonghwa asked.

"People make all sorts of stories, girl," the man said, shaking his head in disapproval. "I was inside. I know none of the friends went after her. The crowd outside was too absorbed with their food. Nobody saw anything until the crash happened."

"Ah.. I see. So I guess since this was an accident, the matter cleared up quickly? With the police and all?"

"Of course," the man said, "they saw the footage. Nobody pushed her. A pity that people had to spread rumors like that. Didn't help us. Nobody came here for days."

"I'm sorry that happened," Yunho said, and Seohyun felt that he actually meant it. "I hope more people are coming here now, for the food."

"Oh we're getting back now. Enjoy," the man smiled at them and went away. They all looked at each other.

"So it's an accident. But this doesn't make sense," Seohyun said, "if she died because of her own mistake, why is she still hanging around?"

"Unfinished business?" Mingi suggested.

"Usually happens when someone is killed, but yeah. She must have made it to the hospital and lost her memories during treatment. That must mean she's holding a grudge, or actually has something so important to do that despite her memories being lost, somehow she stuck to this world."

"That makes sense," Yunho said.

They finished the food lost in thoughts, and decided that is that was the case, it was wiser to not talk to her family. She could be holding a grudge against them too.

Though they now knew how Jiwoo had died, and they were one step closer to sorting this all out, Seohyun felt dread creeping upon her.

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

"I can't believe you sent me to the wrong address!" Jiwoo exclaimed.

"It wasn't on purpose! Hongjoong's friend confused you with someone else. It seems like he deals with this kind of stuff often," Seohyun was nodding her head along, as if that could convince Jiwoo. "And anyway, at least it wasn't all a waste. We're going to the place where you died, are you sure you're ready?"

"Born ready," Jiwoo said, pumping her fist in the air.

"Born ready but-"

"Don't, Seohyun, just don't" San cut her off, shaking his head. Jiwoo laughed. Seohyun pouted but stopped.

The three of them were going to the place where Jiwoo had her accident. It was only yesterday that Seohyun had come with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Mingi, and had falsely led Jiwoo to someplace else with the rest of the boys. Now, upon constant insistence of Jiwoo, the two of them decided they'd better take her.

It wasn't because Jiwoo threatened to summon a bunch of revengeful ghosts. Nope. It certainly hadn't been that.

"We're close now," San said, pointing ahead, "It's right across the road. You should start looking on your own now. Without distractions."

"Don't look at me, San," Seohyun muttered.

"You're right. You both can... wait for me here. I'll see if it rocks a memory," Jiwoo said, and went ahead, leaving the two of them watching her go.

"Do you think we should be there for her?" Seohyun finally asked, "The memories might be painful."

"I think she should just walk down memory lane. We'd only distract her. Going on her own is sure to bring back some memories."

"I still wonder what made her stay," Seohyun said, and San looked at her. It was one of those moments when she was not wearing a filter. San felt like he was intruding- it was rare to see her so... present. There.

"Have you dealt with many murder cases? Or suicide ones?" San finally asked.

"You think it's one of the two?" She asked.

"I think it could be something simple. I know if I died today, the only reason I'd hang here would be to say a final goodbye. That is, if I die suddenly."

"Believe it or not, those are the hardest," Seohyun turned towards San, "With other cases, it's usually finding justice, or personal satisfaction. But goodbyes are difficult. I wouldn't want that for anyone. It's harder for those who are living."

San narrowed his eyes at her for the briefest moment. It felt like sometimes she meant more with what she spoke. Like there was a backstory he did not know.

"It looks like you've had some experience with that," San asked cautiously. Seohyun bit her lip and he saw the slightest of tremble in her hand before she closed them in a fist. She was suddenly reminded of San's hand on hers comforting her.

"You're right, actually," Seohyun finally said, surprising San, "I'll tell you. I need to move on too."

"You don't have to," San assured, but she shook her head.

"His name was Joon Hyuk. It was two years ago. He and I used to go to the same music academy. We were only friends then, not close, until he passed away suddenly. He had a heart problem."

"I'm sorry to hear that," San said. He truly was. He couldn't imagine how he'd cope if one of his friends met the same fate.

"I was shook, but that wasn't the end of the story. He was hanging on because he wanted to say goodbye to his family. It took him a few days, and I helped him come to terms with his death. That's when we grew close. I used to be home alone, and we'd just sit in the music room and talk all night. He told me all about his life. I told him about mine. He taught me to play the piano." Seohyun shivered a bit but continued. "He said his goodbye, but he still didn't move on."

"Does that usually happen?" San asked.

"No. It was because he found something to stay for. Me."

The breeze made San shiver too as it settled in. His heart twisted with emotions he couldn't recognize. He wanted to comfort Seohyun somehow, but he stood frozen.

"Ironic, isn't it? He found something to live for when he had already died." Seohyun's lips quivered. She stared at the light bulb near her, hoping it would force back her incoming tears. This wasn't the time to cry. She looked at San and smiled, "I knew it was wrong. But I was so alone. I craved friendship. I craved love. And I got it for a while. It was short. He started to change. You remember the old man?"

San nodded. The man because of whom he could now see ghosts too.

"It's like the process sped up. He started to become bitter. It would come and go. When he was sane, I finally told him to move on before he became- that, before I had to force myself to send him away. And he did. Without a goodbye this time. I guess that was the only way he could manage it."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Seohyun. I-"

San wanted to say so much but they heard a scream which was unmistakably Jiwoo's, and with a look at each other, they rushed to the source of the sound. They found Jiwoo clutching at her head, down on the ground

Seohyun rushed to her, sitting down and hugging her, muttering comforting stuff that San couldn't make out. He just stood and provided cover, hoping no one would notice Seohyun hugging the air.

It took a few seconds for Jiwoo to calm down, and when she did, she sighed loudly, looking at the sun.

"It's coming back," she announced. "I remember how I died. My own fault. How dumb is that?" She laughed.

"Glad to see you're back in your spirits," San scoffed.

"You, boy, have been making unintentional puns," Jiwoo scoffed back, making Seohyun grin.

"So how much do you remember?"

"It's coming back. You guys should go your own way. I'll just wait for it to come back. I think I know where to go too. I remember my home. I think- I think I know why I'm here too."

Seohyun and San shared a look. "You wanna tell us?"

"I gotta check something first," Jiwoo said, getting up and helping Seohyun up too. "Off you go."

"Weirdo," Seohyun muttered and Jiwoo just waved at her before she started walking. Seohyun was resting her hands on her hips, tapping her jeans, watching her go with a frown.

"IF YOU MOVE ON WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE I'LL HUNT YOU EVEN IN THE AFTERLIFE OR WHEREVER IS IT THAT YOU GHOSTS GO!" Seohyun shouted at Jiwoo, startling San and the couple walking past.

"YOU BETTER HOLD A FREAKING FAREWELL PARTY THEN!" Jiwoo shouted back. Before Seohyun could retort, San took her by the arm and dragged her in the opposite direction, laughing and telling her she should stop before the whole neighbourhood comes out.

"I'll walk you home," San said. He wasn't sure if now was the time to leave Seohyun alone.

"If you insist," Seohyun said, and they walked in silence. San wanted to say something about how she had been wise to send Joon Hyuk off, something to comfort her, but he couldn't find the words. He was sure Seohyun would be too busy thinking about Jiwoo. He decided he'd walk in silence and let her sort her thoughts.

When they finally reached her home, Seohyun looked at San. "You wanna stop for some coffee? Maybe a snack?"

"Oh no, don't bother," San waved her off.

"I have chocolate chip cookies," Seohyun wiggled her eyebrows.

"That's not fair. Lead the way," he said, and Seohyun smiled in victory, letting him in.

Though the house looked plain from the outside, it wasn't such inside. It was well decorated, the brown and white reflecting the walls and the floor, and had an overall homey feel. Plus, it was quite spacious. No wonder she had a music room here.

San sat on the table in the kitchen, looking around while Seohyun made two cups of coffee. The refrigerator had fruit magnets with various lists sticking. Grocery, things to do. Doodles. San smiled. It really did look like Seohyun lived here. His eyes fell on her figure as she rocked back and forth, mixing the coffee. Her hair created quite a contrast with her navy blue shirt. The soft grey hair looked fluffy.

Seohyun turned around, catching San staring at her, and he shifted in his seat as Seohyun set the two cups and the cookies. San took one and bit into it.

"Oomph, that's delicious."

"Thank you. I made them."

"No way!" San was genuinely surprised. "I didn't know you liked baking."

"I like making food," Seohyun admitted, sipping the coffee.

"That sounds so mundane now," San laughed.

"What do you think I did at home? Made talismans?" Seohyun scoffed and San almost choked on his coffee.

"You surprise me everyday, Seohyun. We must look quite boring to you," San said.

"Well," Seohyun munched on the cookie, "You aren't boring. None of you are, actually. Why don't you tell me something I don't know about you then?"

"Well," San imitated Seohyun now, "I collect plushies. And I know taekwondo."

"That's... interesting. Taekwondo and plushies. Wow," Seohyun laughed. "Poor Shiber, I guess."

"HEY!" San frowned. "Your turn."

"I didn't realize we were taking turns?" Seohyun raised her brow but thought about it. "My favourite colour is blue."

"Mine's purple," San said. "I hate vegetables."

"Hard not to notice," Seohyun commented, biting into the cookie and thinking. "I want to be a musician."

"Cool. You can compose for us," San smiled and Seohyun smiled back mockingly.

A thought struck her. "Wanna see the music room?"

San raised his brows. "Can I?"

"If you want to?" Seohyun shrugged. "It's okay. That room needs air anyway."

"Alright then," San finished his coffee. Seohyun got up, her heart thumping. She was right. It was about time she opened that room for someone else. About time she let go too.

"Here we are," she said and fished out keys from her pocket (San thought she must carry them everywhere) and opened the room, turning on the light

It was gorgeous, San thought. A piano in the corner, a drum set in the other, couches as they entered, three different guitars hanging by the wall, a violin case resting on the table. The dim white lights made everything seem a bit eerie, but it smelled like roses, and indeed San noticed a scented candle on the table. It felt like a room full of memories.

"I do come in every now and then, but I don't really play anymore." Seohyun looked around.

"Can I see them?" San asked, and Seohyun nodded.

Seohyun watched as San examined the guitars then walked to the piano, running his fingers on the keys and making some sounds, then off to the drum set.

"I'd pay to see you play," he grinned.

"Oh you won't have to. I'll do that for free one day," Seohyun smiled.

"So you don't play anything anymore?"

"Just the violin sometimes. Or drums when I'm angry."

"Can I hear the violin?" San asked and Seohyun looked at him.

"Pretty please?" He made puppy eyes and Seohyun scoffed. "Now how do I reject that?"

Seohyun opened the violin case, saying something about how it's gonna be short. While she tested the strings and the bow, San sat on the piano stool nearby. Seohyun flipped her hair back and inhaled.

And then she played a tune so melodic, a tune so haunting that San wasn't sure if seconds had passed or minutes. He only saw her face, etched with the most emotions he'd seen on a single person. It was as if she was telling him a secret, baring her soul to him, and he just couldn't decipher it.

When she did stop, San felt short of breath. He just stared at her in awe and she came closer, already having put the violin back. "How was it?"

"That was... breathtakingly beautiful. You were amazing," San said and immediately felt like he should have said something more.

But she seemed to understand. "Thank you," she said. She was leaning against the piano. San got up and came closer.

"Thank you, Seohyun," he said, touching the tendrils of hair that fell on her shoulder, "For everything."

"I- I've done nothing," she almost whispered. San locked eyes with her, still playing with her hair, now his thumb caressing the soft skin of her cheek.

Seohyun stared back at the dark orbs, his gaze so sharp that a part of her wanted to run away but the other part wanted to never look away. San blinked once, then slowly, painfully slowly brought his face closer and kissed her cheek lightly, leaving her out of breath.

Thank you for playing for me," San said, "I'll never forget it."

And then he drew back, and Seohyun came out of the trance.

"If you sugar coat it so much I'll never bring you here again," Seohyun was smiling.

"Nah. Now I'll wait for the day you're angry," San winked, pointing at the drums. "I should give pointers to Mingi."

"HEY!"

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fallingforyou123 · 4 years ago

Text

Cupcakes and Therapy-Meeting

A/N: I'm so sorry this is late, I had it queued up for the wrong day, but it's finally here. This is just the first part, I plan on continuing this with little blurbs after. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.15k

Warnings: Some language, a panic attack and talks of panic attacks, falcon and the winter soldier spoilers

He woke up in a cold sweat, the last of his nightmare still fresh on his mind. For the third time that night he’d been jolted awake, the idea of sleep slowly slipping away. The sun was just starting to rise, a few rays slipping through the cracks in the blinds. He hadn’t slept through the night since his time in Wakanda. After Steve left him and the fighting stopped, there was nothing keeping his mind occupied anymore.

Slowly, he rose from his makeshift bed on the floor, every inch of his body aching from lack of sleep. He made his way over to the window, looking out at the street below. A new hobby he’d found was people watching, as creepy as it is for an ex-assassin to do, but it calmed him. It brought him back to reality when he felt like he was slipping into a dark place.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s stood there until Alpine starts rubbing up against his leg, meowing loudly. Alpine never fails to remind him just how utterly starving he is after sleeping for 22 hours a day. Bucky makes his way to the kitchen to fill his bowl, making note of all the things he’s running out of, a trip to the market after therapy becoming his plans for the day.

He throws a jacket on over his t-shirt and slips on a pair of gloves before leaving the apartment and making his way to the small coffee shop just around the corner. His routine had started consisting of coming here at ungodly hours of the morning for breakfast before making his way to his weekly therapy sessions.

He walked in and sat at his usual table, the barista on shift coming over with his usual coffee and muffin. Bucky hands her a crumpled 5 with a small smile, before grabbing a newspaper. He doesn’t really read it, he’s not one for politics before noon, but he does it to keep him occupied. It also helps to make it not look like he’s scoping the place out when he sits there for hours a day.

He sits there sipping his coffee and nibbling on his muffin, still too shaken from his nightmare to stomach much. He looks up from the newspaper every now and then to watch the people around him. Sunday mornings make the cafe crowded, couples and groups of friends line the one wall, families taking up space at the tables, and a few solos floating through.

There’s a feeling in his chest that hits him hard as he watches a mom trying to wrangle her daughter as the dad laughs. It hits again as he sees a woman curled into the side of the man beside her, giggling at something he’s whispering in her ear. His eyes shift from person to person, the ache growing strong as his breathing becomes difficult. He stands up abruptly, his knee hitting the table causing his coffee to spill, the few people around him shooting him strange looks. He rushes for the door, barely having time to apologize for bumping into someone.

The heat hits him hard when he steps outside, the feeling of being suffocated only worsening. He can’t think straight, the lack of air in his lungs making him dizzy. He turns into an alleyway, leans against the wall and tries to ground himself. A woman spots him as she walks by, coming over to check on him. She rests her hands on his arms, shaking him gently to get him to focus on her.

“Sir, sir you’ve got to breathe. In, out. Easy, easy. There you go.”

Her voice is smooth, almost melodic, and it does the trick to help calm him. Bucky attempts to follow her breathing, gasps of air slowly turning into steady breaths.

He manages to say a small “Thanks,” between breaths. The girl smiles and lingers a little longer to make sure he’s okay before heading on her way. Bucky’s stuck momentarily, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Suddenly much more tired and willing to go back to bed, he wishes he could head back home and hide for the rest of the day, but he doesn’t want to deal with what’ll happen if he doesn’t show up to therapy.

***

He keeps zoning out as his therapist talks, his mind wandering to what had happened that morning. He was no stranger to panic attacks, but they usually came after a nightmare, not sitting in a coffee shop. And the woman, no ones ever been that quick to help him, not when he looks the way he does. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, her face stuck in his mind.

“James, at least pretend to pay attention.” His therapist's voice knocked him out of his thoughts.

“I’m listening.”

“No you’re not, you’ve got that look on your face that means you’re thinking about your nightmare while telling me you’re not having any.” Her voice is calm, but he knows she’s getting annoyed with him.

“I can assure you, I’m not thinking about a nightmare. I, uh, had a panic attack this morning.” He looks away from her, the confession more than he’s ever shared.

“James, that’s normal. PTSD has a lot of symptoms.”

“No, no this was different. This wasn’t because of a memory or a nightmare. I was sitting drinking coffee, just looking around, and it hit me. I had to leave, spent a while trying to calm myself in an alley. And this woman, she came over and tried to help me. I mean, it worked, but I just, I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, you’ve got to stop downplaying these things.” She’s really starting to get annoyed now, her voice now having a slight edge to it.

Bucky can’t quite figure out what pisses him off more, knowing she’s right, or how she doesn’t sugar coat things.

“Tell me exactly how it started, what were you doing?”

He groans, not feeling up for a heart to heart at the moment.

“Listen, I told you. I was drinking coffee and looking around. People watching, I guess. Keeps me occupied.”

“Ah,” she sighs. “I think what’s happening is your minds telling you that you’re lonely. Seeing all those people being happy together, it’s something you haven’t had in a while. You need people, James.”

He doesn’t want to hear it and she knows it. It’s all he’s been told for months now. But he’s fine, really. He has weekly lunches with Yori, and Alpine is plenty of company when he’s at home.

“Listen doc, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. After everything that’s happened to you, being alone is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape it.”

***

The market was crowded today. The mid-summer heat enticing people to spend their days in the sun. Bucky made his way through the rows of stands, stopping to grab various items he thought his fridge was lacking. This had become a weekend routine for him, spending Sunday afternoons trying to create some sort of normality in his life.

He gets distracted momentarily by the sound of a high pitched laugh, forgetting about the bag of fruit being handed to him. It’s then that he spots you, the same girl who helped him in the alley. You’ve traded your hoodie for a tank top and you’ve got a little yellow apron covering you now. There’s a basket of pastries in your hand and you’re laughing with a group of people.

That small ache in his chest makes an appearance again, thoughts racing through his mind. Bucky doesn’t believe in fate, he’s far too old and seen too many things to think it’s real. But in this moment as he watches you, the girl who took time to care for him in a dark alleyway, looking like the world belonged to her, he can’t help thinking that maybe it does exist.

He doesn't know what comes over him, but before he knows it, he’s shoving everything into his bags and heading towards the shop. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, blinded by the need to just be near her. Before he can reach you, you’ve already headed back into the building and stationed yourself behind the counter.

He walks in and is hit with the smell of fresh pastries and he’s brought back to spending weekend mornings baking with his mom and sister. You’re just finishing up with the group, turning your attention to Bucky, “Hi! Welcome to Honey, what can I get for ya?”

Bucky blinks a few times, suddenly losing every ounce of confidence he’d had. “Do you need a few more minutes? Or would you like a suggestion?”

He takes a second to compose himself before replying, “Yeah, um. A suggestion, please?”

He doesn’t understand where his shyness has come from, but you seem to find it endearing. You motion to the display case and start rambling on about each treat, “The orange zest cookies seem to be a fan favourite, personally I like the neapolitan ones the best. We’ve also got every flavour of scone you could imagine if you’re feeling more classy. And oh, this one's new, bourbon pecan nut bars, a little midday pick me up. We’ve also got some fresh sandwiches if you’re looking for lunch. Or if you’re still not sure I can do a sampler box?”

“Yea, I’ll just get one of those, and maybe a sandwich too?”

“Sure thing!”

Bucky watches you fill up a little basket for him, noticing how you add multiples of your favourites. When you head into the back for a moment, he starts figuring out how to bring up this morning without being creepy. He doesn’t want to sound like he stalked you, that would really mess up his shot with you. You finish it up with a fresh sandwich from the back and hand him a neatly wrapped basket. “Alright, is that everything?”

Bucky realizes that this is his last moment to say anything, “Yes, and no. I don’t know if you remember, but I’m the guy who you stopped to help in the alley this morning. I didn’t stalk you or anything, I swear, I was just shopping in the market when I saw you and I thought I’d come over and say thank you.” By this point he’s wishing the ground would open up and swallow him, his face turning extremely red.

“I thought it was you. Don’t worry, I’m not freaked out. It’s no big deal, I’m glad you’re okay. I know how scary panic attacks can be when you’re alone, I’ve had far too many.” You offer him some sympathy, knowing how awful these things can be.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Thank you again for the help. I’m Bucky by the way.” He reaches his hand out towards you, and when you take you swear you feel something, “Y/N, nice to meet you.” You reply with a smile.

The both of you stand there for a moment, lost in each other, only shaken out of it by the ringing of the door as someone enters. “I should go, I’m still on the clock.” You reluctantly let go of his hand.

“Can I get your number before I leave?” The question takes you by surprise, but you’re quick to put your number in his phone, and he makes a promise to call you later that night.

***

When you arrive home that evening you’ve completely forgotten about the promised phone call, too eager to make dinner and then climb into bed. You’re in the middle of cooking when your phone goes off with an unknown number on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Bucky.”

That voice fills your ears and your heart stops for a moment. He sounds tired, the raspiness sending a warm shiver throughout your body.

“Hey, yea, how are you?”

The both of you fall into comfortable small talk. He asks you about work and you tell him about all of your favourite moments from the day. You ask him about the pastries you sent him home with and he confesses that his favorite were the oatmeal lemon cookies, they remind him of the ones his mom used to make.

You end up still on the phone with him by the time you’re curled up in bed, barely able to keep your eyes open. “You should go to bed doll, I can hear how tired you are.”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Bucky laughs, a small little chuckle, and all you want is to be able to hear that sound forever. “Why don’t you come over tomorrow after I’ve closed up the bakery and I’ll teach you to make something?”

“I’d like that. I’ll see you tomorrow doll.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #marvel #marvel one shot #bucky barnes one shot #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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salty-rey · 4 years ago

Text

Singing for the Troops

Pairing: Fives x Reader

Words: 3948

Warnings: Fluff! Open-ending (sexual mention???)

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I do a fic for Star Wars, so I apologize in advance if I mislabeled certain ships. Or if I didn’t do the boys’ personalities any justice.

I was inspired by old performances/entertainment for the Allied troops in WWII, and after watching Christina Aguilera’s Candyman music video. Then I thought, “do the clones get any kind of entertainment like this?” So I took it upon myself to make a fan fic!

Hope you guys like it!

I don’t know how to end a fic....

Playlist: Something’s Got a Hold On Me | Candyman | Ain’t No Other Man

Your dream is to become a famous singer, and you have been working hard for years to reach this goal. You have been visiting various bars and cantinas, singing for patrons whenever the owner allowed it. Even if you were paid or not, you still sang. If a bar had an open mic night, you were there. Out of all the bars you’ve been to, 79s has always been a favorite. It was always packed, and the owner was happy to have you sing for the guests. It always brought more patrons, which meant more money for the establishment. Plus, you were even paid, unlike previous locations.

After a few months of you visiting 79s, you attracted the attention of a particular ARC trooper. When you finished your playlist of songs, both originals and covers, you were given a glass of whiskey.

“Compliments from the ARC trooper,” the droid server told you before gesturing to the said trooper in blue.

Looking over, you spotted the clone who raised their glass to you, sending a wink your way. Even though they all share the same face, this clone had a distinctive number tattoo on the side of his head and a classic goatee hugging his chin. It wasn’t the first time that someone bought a drink for you. Troopers before had attempted to grab your attention, even tried to get lucky for a night, but you brushed them off. But there was something about this trooper that was welcoming. Perhaps the way he smiled at you or the way he spoke to you. He was causal yet not dull. Flirty, too but it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You become bashful at his witty comments. It felt as though the two of you were long-time friends.

The ARC Trooper introduced himself as Fives and greeted you to his fellow brothers. There, you met Echo, Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase. They all serve under Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, aka ��Skyguy,” as to how Padawan Learner Ahsoka Tano calls him. They had stories to share with you; their missions on other planets engrossed you. In turn, you told them about your dreams to become a singer.

“It’s silly, I know. Been lectured by my parents for years.” You lightly laughed, only to become surprised at the boys’ reactions.

“No dream is silly!” “Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous of your voice!” “I don’t know what it’s like to have parents, but they should be supportive of you.”

“If that’s your dream, then go after it. To kriff what other people say.” Fives huffed before fully turning to you. “Who can say that they had dreams but didn’t achieve them because they thought it was unrealistic? I’m going to see you on a big stage one day, and I’m going to say, “That’s our songbird.” Because you will always have us cheering you on.” The trooper said with a soft smile.

A blush crept onto your face, and a smile was spreading cheek to cheek. “Thanks, Fives!”

After that night, you and the boys exchanged your private commlinks. Soon enough than anyone would like, they were shipped back to the battlefield. While they were away, if there were any downtime between missions and work, you would hear your holoprojector beeping. You spent hours talking to each trooper, glad to see that they were doing well. Fives was the one who spent the most time with you, almost talking the night away. He would only stop when he saw your head dipping and your eyes blinking to stay awake.

“Go to sleep, songbird. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. With any luck, we should be landing back to Coruscant within the month.” So fives said, his holo-imagine occasionally flickering due to the distance.

After letting out a yawn, you rubbed your eyes and smile at him. “Okay. Be safe out there, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” Fives smirked. He then bid you goodnight with a soft smile, and he was gone.

Within the month, the 501st had returned to Coruscant, and you met up with the boys back at 79s. The bar 79s was packed as usual, especially on a weekend evening. Troopers from all kinds of battalions were here, drinking and dancing, retelling stories with their brothers and civilians. The music was pumping, and the dance floor was full of slightly or fully intoxicated soldiers.

Tight hugs and smiles were exchanged when you were reunited with the boys at the bar before entering and finding an empty booth for you all to sit. Echo had left the table to get everyone their drinks as you and boys caught up.

“I heard that there this campaign being made for singers by singers and that they want to sing for you troopers.” So you told them, raising for your a bit so that they can hear you over the music.

Singing for the Troops was a campaign created by independent singers on Coruscant. Singers who supported the clones and believed that the troops deserve a moment of peace and perhaps experience some form of normality, which may be entirely new to them. What clone can say that they have been to a concert? Plus, it would give the artists a moment to shine and perhaps score big with a sponsor. It’s a win-win situation!

“The campaign reached several Republic-allied planets, encouraging other singers to sign up. Not just that, but it’s was being crowdfunded, and it reached its price goal! Also, I heard that a famous singer is the main supporter of the campaign,” you informed as Echo passed around everyone’s drinks.

“You should sign up!” Kix said after taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know. I never sang for a large crowd. Let alone been off-world.” You replied nervously, your hands fiddling with the glass of liquor.

“That never stopped you singing at bars!” Hardcase responded before downing his drink in one gulp.

“Just imagine that you’re singing to us! We already have the same faces.” Jesse joked before wincing at the sudden punch to the shoulder.

“Look, songbird; you’re a great singer. And you’ve sung in front of countless drunken troops. So singing in front of a bunch of sober soldiers will be easy,” Fives chimed in, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “All those other singers will be lucky to have you join them.” He said before winking, a smirk on his face.

Your cheeks felt warm, and it wasn’t because of the liquor. “Thanks, Fives.” A soft smile formed on your lips, happy to hear his compliments. You then sighed before downing the rest of your drink. “Alright. I’ll do it!”

“Alright. A toast to (Y/N)!” Kix cheered, raising his glass, and the rest joined in.

The next day, you wasted no time in signing up for a chance to sing in the campaign. The requirements are to submit a recording of your singing, and if you are selected, you will receive a message at the earliest notice. When you waited for a response, you and the boys roam the upper mid-levels of Coruscant, taking time to hang out before the boys were shipped back to war. It always felt bittersweet saying goodbye, but you knew that it wouldn’t be for long.

It will be much longer.

Arriving at your apartment from working your day job, you noticed that your holoprojector was blinking; someone left a message for you. A tightening sensation was felt in the pit of your stomach, your heart racing as you approached your holoprojector. You stared at the blinking light. Did one of the boys leave a message for you? No, they know your schedule, so it possible it isn’t them.

Is it from the campaign? Your heart hammered hard against your ribcage as your hand reached over. Then, what felt like many minutes, you finally pressed the button, the image of a well-dressed man appearing.

“Evening, miss (Y/N). I am the manager of the campaign Singing for the Troops, and I’m here to congratulate you. You have been selected to be one of our singers! We hope to hear from you soon.” The recording ended with a courtesy bow from the man, leaving you standing there in shock.

Did he just say that you were accepted? Does that mean you get to go off-world and sing?!

A squeal of joy echoed throughout your apartment, you jumping in place. “I did it!!” You cheered before reaching for your holoprojector. You had to tell the boys! You had to tell Fives!

After several minutes to reach them, no one answered your calls. Your smile slowly turned into a frown before sighing in defeat. “They’re at war, (Y/N)... they’re probably outside of their base. I’ll just leave them a message about the good news.”

Later in the day, you contacted the campaign manager and agreed to meet with them for further instruction. The plan was to visit various battalions and sing for them during downtime. It will be difficult, and the campaign will have to plan, seeing battalion will go first. During those long weeks of planning, meeting other artists, and vocal practices, there still was no response from the boys. It wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t hear from Fives and the others, although you couldn’t help but worry.

“Once everyone arrives onto Coruscant, we will first visit the 104th Battalion,” the campaign manager informed everyone via holoprojector.

“The Wolfpack Co.,” you whispered to yourself. Fives told you about this battalion, having pointed a couple of them out back at 79’s. Fives said to you that the unit within the 104th was a serious, no-nonsense type of group. Entertaining this group and the rest of the battalion will be a challenge.

The manager continued to list other battalions and legions until one of them caught your attention. “501st and finally, the 212th.”

“Bottom of the list...” You whispered, frowning lightly. How long will it take for you to reach the 501st Legion?

The meeting concluded with a buzz of excitement. It was happening. For reals! In a few days, you will be flying out of Coruscant for the first time, following your dreams.

Before the faithful day could arrive, you decided to reach the boys once more. You sat with anticipation, your knee bouncing as you waited for someone to answer. Finally, after several beeps, the projector came to life, and standing before you was Fives.

“Fives! Thank the Maker,” you sighed in relief before glaring up at him. “Why hasn’t anyone returned my messages?”

The ARC Trooper lightly winced at your tone before smiling apologetically. “Sorry, songbird. The mission was a lot tougher than we first thought. But we finally liberated the planet from Separatist control. The boys and I are fine. I’m sorry for worrying you.” He said, frowning and eyes cast downward.

You opened your mouth to speak before shutting, looking away as well. “No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. We’re at war, and I know that you won’t always be there for our calls. I just....” You began to say but couldn’t finish your sentence.

“I know.” Fives stared at you, eyebrows knitted. “(Y/N)?” Looking back up, he was now smiling at you ever so sweetly that it made you blush. “Congrats on getting picked. I knew you would get in.”

You blinked up at the ARC trooper before smiling. The two of you spend a couple of hours talking, quickly making up for the lost time. You told him the battalions that you were going to visit, and he groaned in annoyance. “Why do we have to be at the bottom of the list?”

“I guess the 104th battalion are in dire need to put some smile on their faces—especially that sourpuss Wolffe.” You teased, causing Fives to laugh.

“That’s going to be one hell of a challenge. I don’t think I saw Commander Wolffe smile before.”

“I welcome a challenge. And I’ll sure be the one to turn his scowl into a grin.” You puffed out your chest in pride.

Fives chuckles at your comical posture, lightly shaking his head. “If anyone can, it’s you.” You relax, returning to an upright position, looking back up at the trooper. The two of you stare at each other in silence, observing each other’s features.

His armor was scuffed and dirtied. There are new scratches and dents throughout, roughing his paint job. His face looked tired, yet there was a glow in his eyes, staring at you in what it appears to be loving.

“I can’t wait to see you again, pretty girl,” Fives spoke, breaking the silence.

That was a new nickname, and it caused you to blush once more. Despite feeling embarrassed, you smiled back. “Me too. Take care, okay?”

“Anything for my songbird,” he repeated all those weeks ago.

Who knew participating in a singing campaign would last for so long. Then again, the war is still going on, so landing on Star Destroyers only happens when the surrounding area was safe. But it was all worth it. Seeing the joy on the troops’ faces and feeling their excitement as the music vibrated throughout the hanger was rewarding.

Working with the manager and group of artists was a great experience as well. Many of the singers were friendly, sharing their stories of how they got into music. Many of them were humans; one was a Twi’lek, another was a Pantoran, and a couple more alien species. Listening to them sing in their native tongue was thrilling, giving you goosebumps at the realization that there are so many cultures out there. So much more for you to learn, and what better place than here.

As the list of locations was getting shorter, you felt more nervous and excited as you got closer to the 501st legion. You were going to see Fives and the others soon. It’s been months since you last saw them. I tried staying in touch with them via holoprojector, but it was getting more complicated since you were busy as well. But that will all change as you near the Star Destroyer that the famous boys in blue occupied. Although, you were nervous for an entirely different reason. You would do something big, having already talked about it to the manager, band, and fellow singers would help be your backup singers. You’re taking a big chance, and there’s no turning back now.

The ship that you and the rest of the artist travel on docked, allowing the whole group to exit. The hangar will house the concert. That same space will also enable the troopers can dance and sing along. In a matter of hours, the soldiers set the stage, and the singers filed onto the hanger. Just like every other Star Destroyer, the stage is decked with standing spotlights and a curtain to act as a background. It also shields the rest of the group whenever they’re not performing.

You watched your fellow singers perform on stage, peeking from the corner of the curtain where the rest of the artists prepared themselves. As the crowd cheered and danced in place, your eyes scanned around the group. But at your current angle, you can’t see past the first few rows of troopers. So the only way to spot your boys is when you perform on stage. And it was happening real soon.

Three more singers performed, some of them accompanied by background singers or dancers. Then, it was your turn.

“Now, please welcome (Y/N)!” The manager introduced, and the crowd cheered as you walked on stage. Dressed in your performance outfit, you approached the microphone stand. Your eyes quickly scanned around the group, searching until a voice rang out from the sea of white and blue.

“That’s my songbird!!!”

Your eyes snapped to the source, and you softly gasped. There he was—your favorite ARC trooper.

Fives was waving his hands at you, a broad grin on his face. Standing by his sides were Echo, Hardcase, Jesse, and Kix. They were waving at you too, whistling and clapping their hands. They were all here. They are all safe and sound. You felt a weight come off your shoulders, blinking your eyes to fight back the tears.

Gripping the microphone, you paused for a second before opening your mouth. Your voice projected throughout the hangar as you sang out your first couple of lyrics. “Oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah/I get a feeling that I never, never, never had before no, no/And I just wanna tell you right now that I-/I believe, I really do believe that/Something’s got a hold on me.”

“(Oh, it must be love),” your backup singers sang softly after you. Drums began to play. A soft bass followed along as you continued to sing. Your feet carried you around the stage, feeling the beat. The large crowd of troopers resumed their dancing, stomping their feet and cheering as you reached the middle of your song. Standing at the center of the stage and facing forward, your eyes then locked to Fives’s as you sang out the next couple of lyrics.

“My heart feels heavy, my feet feel light/I shake all over, but I feel alright/I never felt like this before/Something’s got a hold on me that won’t let go/I never thought it could happen to me/Got me happy when I’m in misery/I never thought it could be this way/Love’s sure gonna put a hurting on me.”

The whole time, neither one of you broke eye contact. You can see the look of surprise appearing on the ARC trooper’s face before shifting to one of love, a smile decorating his face. The other boys looked surprised at your words before looking at Fives. It was evident that their brother had a thing for you since day one, but to have you tell him of your feelings ---incredibly so bold like this--- was shocking. But they began to cheer, Echo smacking Jesse’s back as his brother rolled his eyes before depositing a small number of credits.

You grinned at the end of your song. Then, having witnessed the reaction from the boys, you blushed a bit. Glancing back at the band, you nodded your head. Drums began to play, followed by a couple of trumpets. “I met him out for dinner on a Friday night/He really got me working up an appetite,” you began to sing, moving your hips to the beat. The crowd started up again, dancing along to the sound of your voice. “He’s a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop/He’s a sweet talkin’, sugar coated candyman!”

“Well, by now, I’m getting all bothered and hot/When he kissed my mouth, it really hit the spot/He had lips like sugarcane/Good things come for boys who wait!” So you sang, smiling at Fives, who smirked back at you. The crowd was getting excited as you moved your hips rather proactively, your confidence rising after seeing Fives’s responses to your words.

“He’s a one stop shop with a real big (ugh)/He’s a sweet-talkin’, sugar-coated candyman.” The crowd wolf-whistled at those words, but your focus was on Fives. You can see him biting his bottom lip, eyes heatedly watching you now.

When the song finished, the band continued onto your final piece. You had perfectly planned this night. Your choice of songs were different than the ones from previous performances. This was your love letter to Fives. You love him, and it appears that he feels the same way. You don’t know when will be the next time that the two of you will see each other. You would have loved to tell him your feelings differently, but like how you said before, singing is what you know best.

“Ain’t no other man can stand up next to you/Ain’t no other man on the planet does what you do/You’re the kinda guy a girl finds in a blue moon/You got soul, you got class, you got style with your bad ass/Ain’t no other man, it’s true/Ain’t no other man but you!”

Your performance ended with a loud round of applause. You were softly panting, sweat trickling down your neck, eyes watching Fives. He was clapping the hardest, using two fingers to whistle. A bright smile came to your face, thanking everyone before retreating to the back of the stage.

“What are you waiting for?!” Jesse shouted, a smirk on his face before lightly shoving Fives. “Go after her!” Echo encouraged, followed by a thumbs up from Hardcase and a nod from Kix.

Without wasting another second, Fives rush past his brothers, being careful not to bump into anyone as the next singer came to the stage. It didn’t take him long to reach the side of the stage, but two non-clone guards stopped him. “Sorry, sir, but no one is allowed back here.”

“It’s okay! He’s a friend,” you quickly intervene. The guards relaxed, allowing you to approach the ARC trooper. All that confidence from being on stage was dripping away. Now, your heart was racing, and your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Fives smirked as your cheeks darken in color, your blush reaching down your neck to the tips of your ears.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed now, cyar’ika.” Fives chuckled as he took his hand in his.

You laughed nervously, letting Fives pull you away from the group of singers and towards a more secluded area of the hangar. “M-maybe a little,” you admitted before rounding a corner. Both of you were now hiding the two of you behind a starfighter, Fives gently pressing you against a stack of heavy crates. A hand laid on your hip while the other laid on the containers, trapping you in place. “I told you never sang in front of a large crowd.”

“Could have fooled me,” he responded as his hand on the crates moved to cup the side of your face. You slowly relaxed under his touch before gently leaning into his palm, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“I meant every word, Fives.” You said in a hushed tone, your cheeks still flushed. You raised your hands up, before wrapping your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down to you, until the tip of your noses brushed. “I love you.”

“Say it again,” Fives moaned, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flushed against his armor.

“I love you, Fives.”

What little space was between you two was gone, as Fives leaned forward, capturing your lips. It wasn’t a light kiss nor a deep one, but still full of passion. It was something that the two of you wanted. A moan escaped you as Fives pressed his tongue into your mouth, your hands moved to cup his cheeks, his hand cradling the back of your neck. “Ner cyar'ika laar senaar,” he purred against your lips after parting to breathe, before pecking your lips a couple of times. Hearing speak in Mando’a caused you to shiver in excitement, which he felt against his hands.

“You liked that?” He growled before nipping your neck, causing you to gasp. “There’s more where that came from.” You then felt his hips press and grind against yours, releasing another moan from you.

“There a few more singers left. Plenty of time for it,” you smirked before taking his hand. “And I know the perfect place where you can show me everything.” You both raced back to the ship that you arrived in. You both definitely had enough time, returning back to the hangar but the way you were walking, it was obvious what had occurred.

You didn’t care how the boys teased you, or how the other singers looked shock, or flustered. You are in complete bliss, having Fives at your side and holding his hand for the rest of the evening.

---------

A/N: Thanks again for reading! I have another fan fic in mind, but I should really focus on my finals first!

Ner cyar'ika laar senaar = My darling song bird

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