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malachi-walker · 4 years ago

Note

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

#answers #rhythm & blues #the catradora rockstar au #featuring adora's big gay realization #and also fantasy christmas

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 4 years ago

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Kryptonian Marinette

Marinette is a kryptonian from a parallel universe. In her universe Krypton was never destroyed, her birth name was Mar'i-netel (Pronounced Mar'i-Net-L). However shortly after her birth, she and her parents were attacked. Her parents were killed and the attacker decided to use Mar'i-netel in an experiment. (I don't know what it would be so be creative) The experiment went terribly wrong killing the murderer and transporting Mar'i-netel to the Justice League's universe with nothing but a tattered blanket showing her name.

She is found by Tom and Sabine who immediately take her to the hospital worried for her health. They continue to visit her at the hospital. When a month goes by and no one comes forward the couple decide to adopt the bright eyed little girl. Their family and friends are ecstatic and in celebration they open their bakery a week later.

The couple quickly discover Marinette is not a normal little baby when she sneezes and everything on the table goes flying. Sabine decides it is best for Marinette to be homeschooled. Tom agrees and gets in touch with one of his college friends, who graduated with her teaching degree. Allison agrees to be Marinette's teacher and actively helps the girl control her powers as she gets older.

They slowly gain a list of what Marinette can and can't do. Invulnerability, enhanced hearing, flight, x-ray vision, and superhuman strength.Allison teaches her how to act as if she doesn't have powers. They develop the person of Marinette being clumsy as to hide the possibility of her having powers. Allison also introduces her to the world of fashion, and soon Marinette has two dreams. Being a fashion designer and finding out what happened to her birth parents.

It isn't until Marinette is 12 that they allow her to attend normal schooling, reminding her that around others she must never respond or use her birth name. When she starts she is nervous but makes sure to keep up her clumsy appearance. Soon everyone in class sees her as a practically defenseless and clumsy girl. Everyone except Chloe Bourgeois who easily spotted her acting, having Butler Jean raising her had done wonders for the girls intelligence and observation skills. After two months her and Chloe have a beautiful friendship. Chloe is still a bit mean, but she catches herself and apologizes in her own way, which tends to be expensive items that have to do with the person's favorite hobby.. Soon Chloe and Marinette are spending almost every day together. Chloe even becomes Marinette's model for the online store she is creating. Chloe discovers Marinette's powers when she comes over unannounced and finds Marinette literally hovering off the ground. Her legs crossed with her laptop resting on them.

Chloe- What the hell?

Marinette- I can explain.

Chloe- I sure hope you can!

Marinette- Ah well-this is a bit harder than I thought.

Chloe snorted, rolling her eyes, coming fully up the stairs so that Marinette could tell her with a little privacy.

Marinette tells Chloe the truth about what happened and how she has no idea who her birth parents are. When alone together Chloe starts to call Marinette by her birth name. Sabine and Tom are quick to accept Chloe into their small family. She also points out that Marinette has powers similar to Superman.

"Superman??"-Marinette

"Honestly Mar'i! How can you not know Superman!? He is a famous superhero!"-Chloe

"The only famous people I know are people in fashion and occasionally music Chloe!"-Marinette

Chloe immediately shows Marinette everything about Superman. The girls spend hours pouring over information about Superman and the Justice League. Chloe 100% believes they are related in some way, dark hair and blue eyes, not to mention their powers. Marinette is silent for a while staring at the picture before acknowledging that they do look alike.

"Chloe, I love Maman and Papa but I really want to know why my parents aren't here. At first I thought they may have died, but now, knowing there's a man old enough to be my father with the exact same powers as me. Now I keep wondering if they got rid of me."

Que emotional session between Marinette and Chloe, after they get their emotions out Marinette decides that she doesn't want to contact Superman. That she doesn't want to find out if they are related or not. Both girls leave the topic alone, however Marinette can't get the thought of Superheros out of her head.

'I could help people. I could save lives, yes not many but I can still make a difference.'

She starts slowly training her powers more with the help of Chloe, who gets her father to install a personal Gym with no cameras.

Meanwhile in school she is still a clumsy Marinette but she is making friends fast though some of them avoid her when she is with Chloe. Both her and Chloe understand why and while a little upset they both let it go. After all, years of bullying can not be forgotten in half a school year. The girls don’t let this hold them back though they excel better in each other's company. Both girls noted that they prefer to have Marinette away from Chloe, that whenever they were separate they were always trying to get Marinette to do things.

Marinette being her kind self did what they asked of her but never over did with her best work. She agreed with Chloe that she shouldn’t if they weren’t going to give her anything in return. They only received her best work on their birthdays when Marinette felt they deserved free work.

She kept herself at a distance from the class being Friendly but not as friendly as she was with Chloe. It came to her advantage that she had super hearing. She often did her best not to listen in on conversations but she couldn’t help when she heard her name. She was happy to find Rose, Juleka, Nathaniel, Nino, and Max really did like her, and that they only kept their distance because they didn’t know if they could trust Chloe. She happily explained this to Chloe, who kept her emotions in check, but Marinette could see the gears turning in her head. She wasn’t surprised to find out the next weekend that Chloe had invited them to their usual weekend sleepover that was being held at Chloe’s suite at Le Grand Paris. Both girls were happy when they accepted causing the small group to become much closer. Marinette was happy when the others noticed for themselves that Chloe wasn’t mean on purpose, rather it was how she tried to relate to her mother and a defense mechanism.

The group of Seven flourished together, they quickly became the top students at their school and leaders in their separate clubs only sharing a few together. Marinette and Nathaniel had an Art club together, Max and Chloe had a Politics club together. While Nino, Juleka, and Rose had Foreign language club together.. They all had one club in common though, The Worlds club which they had created together with Ms. Mendeleiev as the supervising teacher. The club was dedicated to learning more about other countries, each student specializing in which countries their families came from. They also had an end of the year trip like no other as long as they reached their goal, which wasn’t a problem thanks to Marinette and Chloe’s excellent plans. Together the seven were able to pull off all their fundraisers surpassing their goals by quite a bit every time.

Their first trip had been amazing, they decided to only visit three countries and spend a week in each. Ms. Mendeleiev was more than happy to chaperon, she didn’t have high expectations but this was better than any class trip she’d been on. They went to Spain, Italy, and Switzerland, posting the trip every step of the way, though they all had to ignore comments from their class. Some complaining that they didn’t invite them, and others complaining that all they did was go to Disney Paris. They felt sad when they came back but they were more than happy to be home, even though they all had sleepovers at each other’s house until the beginning of the school year.

They had one last sleepover the night before their first day back, Butler Jean having promised their parents they’d all be asleep early and at school on time. Together they spent the time talking about their plans for the next school year. The next day they all were dropped off in Chloe’s limo. Everything was going fine until MArinette noticed an old man stepping in the car of a truck. She rushed at him enhancing her speed only slightly and quickly grabbed the man pulling him out of the way. After a short talk she smiled brightly telling him to be more careful before hurrying towards her worried friends. None of them noticed the man still staring at Marinette as she entered her school with her group of friends.

That was the day Marinette became Ladybug, however it wasn’t just her and Chat Noir. No because when Marinette found Tikki it just so happened that her six closest friends were there and saw Tikki as well. It was decided shortly after defeating the first Akuma that they decided they were going to help Marinette all they could.

#DC comics #DC Universe #DC Heroes #ml x dc #superman #justice league #miraculous marinette #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous au #miraculous fandom #miraculous nathaniel #miraculous max #miraculous rose #miraculous juleka #nino lahiffe #Kryptonian marianette

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gureishi · 4 years ago

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day 9: want to be a human again

Here’s day 9 of the Human Again prompts. For the master list of all the ficlets, click here.

SaeyoungXReader (also Jumin, Saeran, and—finally—VANDY!!!)

T (references to cannon death and violence [post-SE]), words: 2539

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

There’s a distinct air of death in the apartment.

Maybe it’s in your imagination, because you know that the man who once lived here has died. Maybe it’s in the photographs stacked against the walls—the ones he never sold, the ones no one ever saw while he was alive. There’s a kind of darkness there that surprises you; it’s hard to take your eyes off them.

Or maybe it’s the feelings radiating from the two people beside you—people who knew him far better than you ever did, people who deeply loved him.

“Hyung, why did you want me to come here?” Saeyoung’s voice comes out a little too loud, and a little too harsh, and he clears his throat.

“I found something you need to see,” Jumin says. He sounds uncharacteristically cautious. “It’s up to you if you want to—act on this in any way, but I thought it was only right that you see it, regardless.”

Saeyoung tenses up beside you. It’s not the first time that you’ve been to V’s apartment since his death, but it’s been months since Saeyoung and Jumin finished their cursory sorting of the things that remained here. Since the apartment was left to Rika, who was—for numerous reasons—unable to make a decision about it, no one knew quite what to do about it. It was left more or less untouched—though Jumin, it seems, has been returning periodically to go through the stacks and stacks of documents filed neatly in and around V’s desk.

Saeyoung doesn’t say anything, and you bump gently against his side; he interlaces his fingers with yours. You can feel his trepidation in the stiff way he’s standing and the tight grip he has on your hand.

Without any further preamble, Jumin hands Saeyoung a folder. It’s plain, with “Luciel” written across the front in a delicate scrawl that you can only assume is V’s.

Saeyoung grits his teeth and opens the folder. Realization seems to dawn on him immediately.

“This is…”

“Yes.”

Saeyoung tilts the folder toward you so you can see better, and he rifles quickly through the pages, as if he doesn’t want to look at anything too closely. There are printed-out emails and grainy photos and old news articles; one name stands out amidst it all: Choi Saejoong.

“It seems V was putting together evidence that would incriminate him,” Jumin says in a quiet voice. There is a surprising and unfamiliar gentleness in the way he’s speaking to Saeyoung.

Saeyoung shakes his head. You can feel him consciously slowing his breathing, using the techniques he’s been taught to stay calm under pressure. Still, his hand trembles a little in yours. “Why didn’t he—why didn’t he ever…?”

“This is only speculation,” Jumin says, in that same soft tone. “I imagine he was conflicted about taking any action that might go against Rika’s wishes or—”

“—or implicate her in any way,” Saeyoung finishes, his voice rough. He sets the folder aside and runs a hand over his face. Suddenly, he looks exhausted, beaten down—the way you remember him looking so often in the days and weeks following V’s death.

“Yes.” Jumin nods slowly. “This information is meant for you, not for me. But I did look through it to a certain extent and—for what it’s worth, the documents go all the way up to a few weeks before Jihyun died.”

Saeyoung inhales sharply.

“At any rate, I leave it entirely up to you what you wish to you with this information. If you were to choose to hold onto it or throw it away, I would understand.” Jumin hesitates. He looks down, and then he looks up at Saeyoung. You notice a hardened, confident look in Jumin’s eyes, one you’re sure has earned him the respect of important decision-makers around the world. “On the other hand,” he continues, “if you choose to—disclose this information—I, and C&R, would be behind you.”

Saeyoung is looking at Jumin, and Jumin’s gaze doesn’t waver. Their relationship is strange, you think—though you know Saeyoung has a great deal of respect and admiration for Jumin, he’s rarely relied on him, rarely asked anything of him. Saeyoung, you think, still sees Jumin as V’s best friend, above all else—and naturally, that’s complicated.

Slowly, Saeyoung nods. “I have to think about it,” he says, his voice a little raw. “I have to talk to—”

“Of course.” Jumin moves away a little, straightening his coat. He’s back to normal: brisk, formal. But there was genuine care in the way that he spoke to Saeyoung about the documents, and you’re certain that, beneath it all, Jumin has a fierce love for the RFA—for Saeyoung.

“Thank you, Jumin,” you say. He looks at you with surprise.

“Of course,” he says. “This was never my decision to make. And—” He glances at Saeyoung, who is still staring at the folder in his hands. He looks like he’s far away. “No matter what you decide to do, you should know that—” For a moment, uncertainty flashes in Jumin’s dark eyes, and then they are clear again. “Jihyun was always wishing for your freedom,” he finishes.

Saeyoung doesn’t look up, but his grip on the folder tightens. You know that he wouldn’t ever cry in front of Jumin, never in this room, amidst V’s carefully chosen furniture and piled-up old photographs. But he nods.

“Thanks, hyung,” he whispers. You’re not sure if he’s addressing Jumin or the other man, the one whose presence still seems to fill every corner of this apartment. Maybe it’s both.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

The security system activates.

You drop the manual for the expensive espresso machine you’ve finally decided to learn how to use and peer around the corner at the cameras. You catch a glimpse of a familiar disgruntled face before the doors swing open.

“Vanderwood!” You swiftly cross the bunker to meet them at the door. They’re standing at the threshold, an annoyed expression on their face, an Arabic dictionary in one hand.

“You haven’t gotten tired of him yet, huh?” Vanderwood asks by way of greeting. You beam at them.

“Neither have you,” you reply. Vanderwood grunts and kicks off their shoes. You notice they take a moment to line up not only their own but all the shoes that are lying in a jumbled mess by the door.

“Madam!!!” Saeyoung comes barreling around the corner, tries to skid to a stop, catches himself on the coat rack, and somehow manages to stay upright as coats and scarves cascade to the floor around him.

Vanderwood groans. “I can still leave. It’s not too late for me to just go,” they say, shooting Saeyoung what can only be called a death glare.

“Saeyoung!” You pick up one of the coats and he shoots you a grateful look. Then you smack him with it. “Don't act like an ass just because Vanderwood is here.”

Saeyoung collapses dramatically into his pile of coats.

There’s a quiet chuckle behind you, and Saeran crosses the entryway, peering at the scene with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

“Hey, little Choi,” says Vanderwood, stepping over the pile of coats-and-Saeyoung to shake Saeran’s hand.

“Hey, weird agent guy,” says Saeran.

“Don’t ignore me!” cries Saeyoung. You throw a scarf at him.

Vanderwood follows Saeran into the living room; they are chatting quietly together. You hear Vanderwood’s barking laugh, and you smile to yourself. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them, but they haven’t changed. They can complain about Saeyoung all they want, but you’ve learned to see right through it: when Saeyoung calls, they show up.

You bend over to peer at your fiancé, who has thrown a coat over his eyes and is loudly pretending to sob. You kiss him on the cheek.

“I love you but if you act like a lunatic I’ll let him tase you.”

Saeyoung runs a hand through his already-messy curls. “I’ll be good,” he says, puckering his lips for a kiss. You roll your eyes and offer him a hand instead; he scrambles to his feet and then darts forward to kiss your eyebrow.

“Do your best,” you say, pulling him by the hand. He follows obediently.

In the living room, Vanderwood and Saeran are already peering at something on Saeran’s laptop. Vanderwood has somehow produced three other computers, which are all open and humming, running some mysterious program or other. Over a year ago, this would’ve been a strange sight to you; nowadays, you are unfazed

Vanderwood glances up at Saeyoung, who is trailing behind you like an acquiescent child.

“Glad to see you’ve still got him under control,” they say. You give them a salute.

“Just doing my job,” you reply. “Sit,” you say to Saeyoung, and he obligingly takes a seat on the couch. Vanderwood barks with laughter again.

“Wish I’d had you around years ago,” they say, shaking their head.

“Me too!” Saeyoung sings, pulling you into his lap and nuzzling his head against your neck.

“I take it back,” Vanderwood groans.

“I swear he’s a little more normal when you’re not here,” Saeran says, his attention on one of the laptops.

“It’s true! I just get extra excited when my favorite maid is here!” Saeyoung bounces, making the couch shake.

“Why me?” Vanderwood mutters, just loud enough for Saeyoung to hear.

You scramble out of Saeyoung’s lap. “Saeyoung, act regular. Vanderwood, do you want coffee?”

“Please.”

You ruffle Saeyoung’s hair (it’s really all over the place today) and make your way to the kitchen. Leaving the three of them to stare at the laptops (now there are, inexplicably, eight), you return to your espresso machine manual.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

When you return to the living room, the three of them are talking in hushed, serious tones.

“Wow,” Vanderwood says as you hand them the latte you've (finally) figured out how to make. “Seven-Zero-Seven has an espresso machine now?”

Saeyoung shrugs. He’s more subdued now, his eyes on one of the computer screens.

“She wanted it, so I got it,” he says offhandedly.

“Seriously, spending time here is almost bearable now.” Vanderwood gratefully accepts the drink from you and you slip back onto the couch beside Saeyoung, peering at his screen. You know what they’re doing, in theory, though the numbers on the computer mean nothing to you.

“This feels too easy,” Saeran says. He’s hunched over another computer, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The now-familiar files from V’s apartment are strewn around him on the ground.

“It is easy,” Vanderwood replies. “Taking down bigwig types? This is—was—literally our job.”

Saeyoung vaguely nods. He’s fiddling with the frayed hem of his sweatshirt. “Actually putting it all out there is no problem. If he had any leverage against us, that’d be one thing. But now, with no agency, no Mint Eye…” Saeran flinches. “…he’s got nothing on us. Actually doing the job isn’t the part I’m worried about.”

Vanderwood leans back on the couch, stretching. “If you’re so worried about the whole world knowing about all this, why’re we doing it?” they ask. “Seems like he’s basically given up tracking the two of you down. You could’ve waited it out. You’re safe in this crazy bunker-house.”

For a moment, it’s quiet. The twins look at each other. Saeran looks down.

“I spent a long time under the ‘protection’ of people who said I’d be safe. It didn’t end great,” he spits out bitterly. Saeyoung twitches, as if he almost went to his brother’s side but thought better of it. You nudge him with your shoulder and he leans into you just a little, sighing.

“I do have mixed feelings about this all being in the open,” Saeyoung says. “He deserves whatever he gets, but—”

“—we’re doing exactly what he always said we would do,” Saeran finishes. “I hate that.” His red hair, softer and thinner than Saeyoung’s, hangs over his face, casting his eyes into shadow.

“Listen, we destroyed lives of people who deserved it a whole lot less,” Vanderwood cuts in, looking back and forth between the twins. “This guy is—from what I read, he’s a real monster.”

“I don’t even care about that part anymore,” Saeran mutters. For once, he’s just wearing a t-shirt, and the bottom-half of his tattoo is visible, peeking out from under his sleeve.

“Yeah,” Saeyoung adds, his attention on his twin. “It’s not a vengeance thing. And I mean—you’re right. We could live underground like this forever, and probably be safe from him as long as we don’t try to go out in the world or use our real names or anything.”

Saeran nods slowly. You notice that your shoulders have tensed up, and you try to focus on releasing them. If it were up to you, you’d have made chasing down and punishing the twins’ dad first priority. But—as Jumin said—it’s not up to you.

Saeyoung peeks at you out of the corner of his eye and you know he’s reading your thoughts on your face. He turns back to Vanderwood.

“I still want to do it, though,” he says firmly. “Because…I want to move someplace where we can have windows. And an even bigger garden. I want my fiancé to be able to have friends over without them almost getting bombed by my stupid security system. I want to use my real name when I get married. I want…” He clears his throat a little awkwardly. Vanderwood watches him intensely, unblinking. “I want to live like a human being,” he finishes.

No one says anything. Saeran is still looking down at the carpet. Vanderwood taps a finger thoughtfully on the table. If anybody understands what Saeyoung means, you think, it’s Vanderwood.

Agents can’t have families, they told you once, when the four of you—the same four of you that are sitting around in your warm and well-lit living room right now, you realize with a jolt—were holed up in the middle of nowhere, hurt, misled, in the midst of a war. Agents don’t get names, or friends, or things they like and dislike. That’s just not part of it.

One of the laptops beeps, breaking the silence. “It’s ready,” Vanderwood says softly. “Just say the word and it’s done.”

You look at Saeyoung, who looks at Saeran. Saeran stares at the floor for a long moment; finally, he looks back at his brother, and his mint eyes are clear and sure.

“Do it,” he says.

Saeyoung grabs your hand and squeezes it and, without hesitation, Vanderwood hits a key. The computer hums.

“There’s no guarantee—“ they say, as if the twins don’t already know.

“Whatever happens, we can handle it,” Saeyoung says decisively. He stands and stretches, and then he puts a hand on Vanderwood’s shoulder; Vanderwood flinches as if expecting an electric shock. “Don’t freak,” Saeyoung says, with a lopsided smile. “I just—um. Thanks.”

Vanderwood doesn’t meet his eyes, but you swear you see the corners of their mouth twitch upward.

“Nah, you were right,” Vanderwood says. “It’s time we all started living like human beings.”

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seigephoenix · 4 years ago

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Roses and Gun Oil

Ship: Alistair Theirin x Female Cousland (Sorcha) Rating: Eventually will get to Explicit but for now is a solid T Trigger Warnings: None at the moment Length: 2k+ Summary: The Cousland family runs one of the best and most respectable security firms in the country of Ferelden. After a mishap at the palace their family is hired to protect the royal family and upgrade security at the palace. The youngest of the clan, Sorcha Cousland, is tasked with guarding the younger prince. They uncover a sinister plot from within their own countrymen. Can they overcome the dangers and perhaps find a little love in the process? Author’s Note: I thought I’d lost this! I had started writing it over a year ago but then my laptop crashed and there was no saving it. I had them saved in Google Docs! *so excited* My bodyguard AU!! Now to dig up the art I commissioned Savbakk to do of Sorcha and Alistair.

Strictly business. At least that's what she told herself to calm the nerves that fluttered in her belly. They were always there at the first briefing. Even back when she'd taken that first bus to boot camp. The regularity soothed a lot of her anxieties even if the contrary nature amused her. This job was one of the biggest they'd taken in a long time. Sorcha took a deep breath and tugged at the hem of her fitted blazer. Midnight cloth fitted to her tall frame, black slacks, and a fitted white button up. Her dark brown hair was tucked up in a tight bun, the only way to control the unruly waves. The bane of her existence, it was difficult to be taken seriously when one’s hair was so unruly. Thankfully she wasn’t alone with her nerves. Sorcha's eyes darted to the side to see her two brothers.

They stood on either side of her as they awaited their orders. Each with back straight, feet shoulder width apart, with hands clasped at the small of their backs. There was no mistaking their relation to one another. They all inherited their father's facial structure but only Fergus and Sorcha inherited their mother’s coloring. Dark brown hair, bronzed skin, and hazel eyes. Ian got their maternal grandfather's coloring with auburn hair and pale green eyes. Sorcha always envied his eyes, her own were a simple hazel that leaned more towards brown tinged with dark green. Sorcha sighed in her mind and tried to distract herself. Hurry up and wait was a mantra with her father, a man that bled military colors and protocols. Each of his children had followed in his footsteps, though they each went to a different branch. Afterwards they left and joined the security company. Highever Security was well known throughout their country as high-end security. Celebrities hired them for formal events, dignitaries contacted them when visiting and they wanted local security. Sorcha turned her mind towards their clients, the Ferelden royal family. The highest level clients they’d gotten yet. Her eldest brother, Fergus, would be the private bodyguard of the king and queen. A prestigious honor, one that reflected his decade and a half of service in the industry, and his highly decorated military service. Her middle brother, Ian, was put in charge of the royal heir and his wife. Ian had twelve years in service with another well decorated military career. Which left her with the youngest prince. Sorcha had seven years with the agency and ten with the country's elite armed forces.

Each sibling had been through various self-defense training, mixed martial art, weapons, and de-escalation protocols. Through the military and then further training with Highever. Sorcha specialized more in hand to hand combat. Her repertoire was full of self-defense and close quarter combat. Her skills included military combatives up to level four, mixed martial arts, and boxing. Her father disapproved of the boxing but he could see the benefits to such skills. Sorcha believed her training served her well in the family, it gave her the niche her older siblings lacked. Her brothers were no slouches but they focused more on cyber and situational security. Fergus specifically focused on cyberattacks and software security. Ian was the best situational security specialist the country could offer; he could find discrepancies in an Antivan Crow facility. Sorcha was the one who focused on physical and operational security. She liked making sure the teams were up to snuff. It had not been too much of a surprise when the royal family called in their security agency when the assassin had almost succeeded killing the king. The most surprising had been when Maric had been crowned and he hadn’t hired the Couslands. The head of the agency and the king had a falling out two decades previous due to a mutual friend. Sorcha didn't know the exact details; the head of the agency was very closed lipped about it.

She took a fortifying breath and ignored the elbow jab Ian gave her. Her eyes narrowed at the wall as she heard his quiet snickering. Brothers… Sorcha resisted the urge to kick his shin, barely. Sorcha thought back to the day the head of the agency had gotten the letter asking for their attendance in Denerim. She was honestly still surprised the king had reached out to their agency. Several elite security companies were vying for the royal family after the fiasco and the whole bad blood between them. Sorcha thought back to the headlines.

An assassination attempt that had almost succeeded had the youngest prince not interrupted the struggle. The king suffered minor wounds from it, and the prince had killed the assassin in self-defense. The king's facial wound was still fresh, and as such the royal family cut back on their public appearances while it healed. He couldn't afford any more scandal attached to his throne, not with the neighboring country eyeing it. They'd fought them once before and came out victorious. The resulting victory lead to a tentative treaty between the two monarchs. It didn't stop the Orlesians from casting their greedy gaze at Ferelden. Sorcha’s eyes focused on the door as it opened, breaking her from her thoughts. All the siblings straightened into proper parade rest as the head of the agency came in.

“I'm sure you three have read the contracts and dossiers?” He clasped his hands behind his back. He didn't look like a man in his early sixties. His midnight hair was liberally streaked with silver. His eyes were the same shade as the freshly tilled Ferelden soil and the lines around them were etched deep into his skin. His children inherited his height and build, strong as the Ferelden forests. He cast a speculative look at each of the agents. The siblings nodded at his unspoken question. “Good. We can't afford to let anything happen to the king and queen. Here are the schedules. You three are the primary guards, we have secondary ones that will switch out to allow for meals and sleep.” He handed them the schedule and Sorcha resisted the urge to snort as she glanced over it. Her duties were mainly during the day, a different guard would be available for night shifts. Compared to her siblings’ her schedule was fairly light. Did the prince not have a social calendar? It did give her some questions but she knew better than to ask.

“I'm counting on you three to represent us. Fergus, you'll be meeting the king and queen in their chambers. They're receiving all visitors in their sitting room today, to allow for the king's wounds to heal.” Fergus nodded. The reports had contained similar information. There were a few things that concerned him, but unlike his sister he was going to voice his concerns.

“I've taken the liberty of going over the cybersecurity in the palace. Apologies if that's stepping above my role.” Their father shook his head and motioned for Fergus to continue. “I saw flaws in their firewall and the passwords. I believe their previous chief of security had a password that consisted of 123ABC.” Ian and Sorcha snorted and quickly went silent at a glare from their boss. They looked straight ahead as they bit the inside of their cheeks. Though the information was hardly surprising given what they'd found in their own investigations.

“I'll suggest the king allow us to upgrade their security software. For an added fee of course.” All four grinned at the humor in it. The king's pockets would be lightened after they got finished with their security upgrades. Their agency would only accept the best standards. Expensive but worth it. Everyone paid their price for the level of security afforded. “And you Ian?”

“From my cursory glances I was able to pinpoint at least three compromised entrances. The fact the assassin was able to enter undetected is no surprise given what I found. I put into my report a few suggestions to better secure the worst of the areas.” The head nodded and then glanced at Sorcha. She straightened.

“What say you rookie?” Sorcha resisted the urge to puff out her cheeks at the playful teasing.

“From the information you've given me. The entire security team needs more training. They lack basic de-escalation protocols and prefer to show force. From the past we've seen how little that is effective. I also placed in my report suggestions for their own security training in basic combat.” She doubted it would go anywhere. The royals were known to not exactly take criticism well. The head chuckled and broke out into a grin.

“The cameras here are dummies. I double checked. It's why I chose this room. Now, tell me what you really think.” Relief swept through them as they relaxed their postures. Ian grinned and propped his elbow on Sorcha's shoulder. Fergus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. There were certain phrases he could use off the clock to describe the palace’s cybersecurity situation, and he was going to be liberal with them.

“Dad, this is ridiculous. Their software is completely outdated. At least eight years old. A five-year-old could hack into their systems by banging on the keyboard.” Fergus scratched the back of his head. They had quite a few grievances to air out after doing their own analysis of the royal family's security.

“No kidding? I'm not surprised. That entrance the assassin used? It's so decked out in gold plating that even a bumbling idiot could make it past. Shine a light and poof cameras are blind.” Ian shook his head. Sorcha crossed her arms and huffed. Their security measures were insanely outdated. How could the previous security firm let things get so bad? She had her own theories about that but preferred to keep her opinion to herself.

“What about you pup?” Their father met her eyes with laughter dancing in his. Sorcha snorted and reached for her notebook.

“Oh no! Sorcha broke out the book. It must be bad.” Ian grinned as she shot him a glare and shrugged his arm off her shoulder.

“From what I've observed.” She started and whipped her head to her brother. “Stop mocking me jackass.” Ian held up his hands in defense before she turned back to her notebook.

“None of the security here conducts physical training. A ten-year-old could outrun half of them. I posed as a tourist and was given extremely detailed information about the royal schedule by one of the guards. Just by flirting. I put into my report about firing him.” Sorcha tucked the pen back behind her ear as she flipped over her notes.

“I see I taught you well. Thorough is quite the understatement for you three.” They nodded. They'd been trained by the best. “Well, remember to uphold our professional image while with the royal family. It's time to go meet your charges.” They took deep breaths in unison before the masks were back in place. They double checked to make sure everything was in place before they headed out to the royal sitting room. Couldn’t risk leaving anything behind that could be useful to the crown’s enemies.

Sorcha went with her brothers as they were each introduced to their charges. The king and queen seemed pleasant enough, and the prince and his wife were polite but distant to Ian. Sorcha was used to nobility, her own family had held the title Teryn of Highever since the days of Calehad, but she never would understand that polite ice that coated every word. Sorcha hoped her charge wouldn’t be as bad. Her father walked beside her as they headed to the training yard. Her eyes, alert for any threat, darted around the hallway. She agreed with Ian's assessment about the security being lax. She wasn’t an expert on situational security but even she could spot the openings he spoke of. Decoration over safety, the hallmark of nobility it seems.

“Here we are my dear.” He put his hand on her upper back in a gesture of support. Just resting above her holster, the gentle touch helped center her but at the same time… Sorcha resisted the urge to give him a questioning look. He rarely showed any affection when they were on the clock. Bryce Cousland was a warm and loving father but a merciless boss that demand the best. He'd never crack and show her this kind of attention unless… Could her assignment be that bad? Nerves fluttered in her belly as she noticed the soldiers pause in their training to watch. They approached the prince who was training alone in the ring, boxing by himself. Sorcha could appreciate the form. He had a fine form, perfect for defense. She couldn’t say anything about his offensive power as it didn’t appear he was taking it too seriously.

“Oi, princey. Your bodyguard is here.” The sneer had her hackles rising. She'd faced that derision her entire life. Fought against it in the military and security business. Because she had tits, she was seen as weaker. It only took a few minutes in the ring for that derision to turn to humiliation. Never did she let that misogyny keep her down and out. Even if it never lent her any friends, she'd rather have the respect. Sorcha learned how to make use of what she had rather than work for what she'd never get.

The prince turned and saw them approach. His face split in a grin and he hopped down from the ring. She froze and refused to glance up at her father. The man was handsome, the portraits hadn't done him justice. His sandy blond hair was cut close to his head, she appreciated the cleanliness of the style. Military fade with just enough on top to give him an almost boyish charm. She wanted to groan in frustration. The man was her type. Though, he wasn't as tall as she expected. Or she was just that tall. He only had a few inches on her. Though the man’s shoulders… She could feel small if he ever hugged her and that thought had no business in her head. Sorcha watched him wipe off his hands and face before he turned to her father. “It slipped my mind that it was today. I'm sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize to us your highness. I merely wish to introduce your bodyguard. From today forward she is the one who will be at your side.” He nodded towards Sorcha who gave him a courtly bow. Hard to curtsey in pants and blazer and she’d always been abysmal at the court gesture. Her mother had lamented many a night about her inability to bend her knee at the proper angle.

“It's an honor to work for you, your highness.” Sorcha gave him her most polite smile. Judgment would be reserved until she got to know the prince. He glanced to the side awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his head. That got her curious. Was he unused to the title? There were rumors after all but she didn’t pay them any mind.

“You don't have to bow.” Sorcha looked up at her father who shrugged. “It’s nice to meet you… I'm sorry. I don't remember your name.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the laughter inside. He looked so adorably embarrassed, she wanted to laugh. As if the lapse caused him great pain but she was used to it. Royalty and nobility didn’t remember the names of the help, not in her experience.

“Sorcha. Sorcha Cousland at your service.”

#alistair theirin x female cousland #bodyguard au #dragon age #dragon age au

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

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Flatbush & Atlantic: part i

Quick note: This is taking place in the 2020-21 season, as if the Islanders still play at Barclays; I know they won’t in actuality. In the story, I’m also going to be taking some liberties with what the duties of a team’s general counsel and legal team would actually be in charge of. My understanding, as a pre-law student, is that it’s more on the corporate angle, dealing with contracts and stuff — in addition to that, Cass will also be dealing with some more immigration and employment law as well.

part i

October 1

“Adiós, mamá. Hablamos pronto. Te amo.” Cassidy hung up, breathing out a tense sigh and rubbing her temples with the heels of her hands. Talking to her mom usually helped to calm her down, bring her back to Earth, but for whatever reason it wasn’t taking. She took a brief glance at the casebook open on her dinged-up Ikea desk. Federal Indian Law. She liked the class, genuinely, but her day had started off bad and gotten worse pretty damn quickly. First she was out of her favorite tea, then her advisor cancelled their meeting, then it started raining as she walked back to her MTA stop, so she had missed the train. Another came fifteen minutes later, but the damage was already done. The only bright spot in the day, aside from calling her mom, had been the cute guy at the Polish deli down the street who had put extra peppers on her Philly cheesesteak. She unwrapped the sandwich, taking a moody bite out of the end. A caramelized onion dropped to the floor. Sighing, she leaned down to pick it up, hurtling it in the direction of the trashcan but only half-looking to see if it reached its target destination. Despite the name, Cass had never had a cheesesteak before she moved to New York, and it wasn’t even because she wasn’t a sandwich person. No, Cass loved a good sandwich, but between her proclivity towards a good BLT and her mom’s homemade Mexican food, she just hadn’t gotten around to it.

Her laptop dinged with an email notification. What now? She swiped over to the mail page, taking another bite as she read the subject line. Experiential learning requirement - unmet. Her brow furrowed. Unmet? Clicking it open, she scanned the email, clearly something automated from the registrar’s office. Yet to complete Columbia’s experiential learning requirement...We suggest you connect with professors...You have until October 8 to submit...Cassidy never finished her sandwich. “Oh my God,” she muttered to herself, feeling her cheeks heat up. “How could you do this? How could you be so stupid, Cass?” She was normally so on top of everything, never missed a date, never forgot an assignment, so how could she have missed one of the only things left to do to graduate? Her law school required all of the graduates to complete some sort of experiential learning requirement — some kind of externship, clinic, summer associate position, anything to get them “out in the real world.” That’s when it hit her. She had coached her high school’s mock trial team the summer after her first year, and interned at the Hartford County DA’s the summer after. But they paid her. Her school had a weird ‘double-dip’ policy, where you weren’t allowed to take a position for class credit and get paid at the same time. It was a confusing rule, convoluted and bizarre and probably a little bit elitist, but it was a rule. As if the day couldn’t get any worse, and then somehow it did.

Turning to her laptop, she started searching for just about anything that could possibly help her. The school’s website, the Manhattan District Attorney’s, state offices, NGOs, federal prosecutors, anyone that might have a lead. Frantically dragging over her resumé and throwing together a cover letter that probably (hopefully) looked way more interesting than it actually was, Cassidy fired off email after email after email. Two hours later, she had sent off some twenty-odd applications, hoping that at least one or two would end up panning out. Glancing at her watch, she let out an exasperated breath. 12:22 A.M. Her classes didn’t start until nine, but it took almost an hour and a subway connection to get to Columbia, and she had to eat and shower before. So, really, it meant getting up at about seven. She needed to go to bed.

Stomach reeling and feeling more resigned than anything, Cass haphazardly brushed her teeth, flossed — it didn’t matter how tired she was, she’d never forget to floss — and clambered into bed, wearing a faded, way-too-big Rangers t-shirt. I’ll be okay. She took a deep breath. It’ll be okay. It has to be. Cassidy Cabrera Shaw was tough as nails and stubborn as hell, and she wasn’t going to let everything she had worked so hard for fall apart so easily.

Whenever Cass was nervous, or anxious, or afraid, she was never able to sleep well. She ended up waking up at ten past six, sitting in her bed for fifteen minutes praying that she’d fall back asleep, and finally accepting her fate that sleep just wasn’t going to come. Rolling over, she grabbed her phone from where she had left it charging on the nightstand. Nightstand was maybe a generous term for it; technically, it was a wooden milk crate that she had spray painted white when she and the other girls had moved into the apartment two years prior. She had a little bit of money set aside from college, but every penny possible was going towards tuition and those ungodly-expensive books that she had to buy every semester. The mattress and frame were from Ikea, and Cass had brought some things like bedding and a desk from her old room. The rest of it — rugs, lighting, and decorations like her six-inch ceramic peacock (his name was Charles) had come from a combination of Goodwill runs and senior citizen yard sales.

Wincing as she did so, Cass pulled up her email, bracing herself for the inevitable barrage of rejection. After scrolling past ten or so automated “no longer hiring” and “position has been filled” messages, one caught her eye. She had sent a few emails to professors of hers, not expecting to hear anything back for a few days. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but there certainly were advantages of going to school in a city as massive as New York. All of her professors knew someone and had some kind of connection from their own education, or days in the practice, or childhood summer trips to the Hamptons with someone who just so happened to be a judge on the Second Circuit Court — that last one was last year’s employment law professor. One particular subject line caught her eye. Thought you might be interested, Professor Murakami had written. David, as he preferred to be called, was her Sports Law professor from last year. She didn’t go into the class expecting to enjoy it all that much, if she was being honest. She had gotten a crappy registration time and most other classes were filled, so it had started out as a placeholder and nothing more. Over the semester, though, it had quickly become one of her favorites, combining pieces of everything else she had studied into one cohesive course. Cass also wasn’t in a position to be turning down any potential offers, so she opened the email and started reading.

I got your email, Cassidy, and think I might be able to help. Okay, so far, so good. I happen to have a contact in the counsel’s office of one of the professional sports teams in the city. That’s exactly what Cass was talking about — where do these people meet each other? Is there some kind of exclusive speakeasy you’re given the password to as soon as you’re admitted to the state bar? Chris Cohen works for the Islanders, and I remember you talking about how interested in hockey you are. Okay, true, but the Islanders? She had practically been born with a Ranger’s jersey on. Beggars can’t be choosers, she thought. I gave him a heads-up that I’d likely be sending a promising candidate his way, so just let me know if this sounds like something you’d be interested in and I’ll send along your contact information.

Cass couldn’t respond fast enough. Yes, please!

---

Wednesdays were her ‘easy’ days, if you could say that. She had Environmental Law and Human Rights back-to-back, but anything after noon was pretty much fair game. That being said, it certainly didn’t mean that she was any less stressed. There were at least a hundred pages to read before class the next day, she had a sample essay due for bar prep, and her mind was still racing about the email. Grabbing a gyro from the cart outside of her last class of the day, Cass stress-ate with one hand while continually refreshing her inbox with the other. Food wasn’t allowed in the library, so she ate the last few bites right outside the doors, throwing away the wrapper and squeezing past the hordes of clearly overwhelmed first-years running to get to class on time.

Popping her Airpods out of their case and into her ears, Cass briskly made her way up the stairs to the third floor, crossing her fingers that her usual spot, a big blue chair over by the research desk, was open. She was in luck, pulling out a water bottle and laptop and getting to work on editing. Four hours later, she had reached some semblance of satisfaction with her work, shutting off her computer and making her way to the subway. There was about half an hour before she had to transfer to the line that would take her to the apartment; squeezing into one of the last free seats, she tugged out a textbook and a highlighter. Why her professor insisted on assigning the entire text of the United Nations charter was a mystery to her, but she’d rather jump off a cliff than be cold called on without an answer. Transferring at Grand Concourse took about ten minutes — it was rush hour, so the first train to come was entirely full — and another twenty or so minutes later, she was letting herself into her shared East Bronx apartment.

Hanging up her denim jacket by the door and toeing off her sneakers, Cass let out a not-so-subtle exasperated sigh.

“One of those days?” Alicia piped in from the kitchen. Alicia also lived in the apartment, one of the four sorority sisters-turned-roommates who had made the move from Connecticut down to New York after graduation. Cass padded into the kitchen, where she was greeted by Alicia in front of a skillet and rice cooker, intensely sautéeing some vegetables.

“You have no idea,” Cass said, hugging her from behind. “Whatcha making?” There were obviously some nights when not everyone was home — most often either Cass or Ryanne, who was in med school — but they always tried to have a few nights a week where someone would cook a meal for the whole house.

“Japchae, it’s my mom’s recipe,” she replied. “I called her and asked how much sesame oil to use, and she just said ‘until it tastes right.’ Like, I love you, Mom, but that doesn’t really help my cause, does it?”

Cass snorted. “Oh for sure, it’s the same way with me. Do you remember the first time I made tamales down here?” Cass had grown up eating and making tamales with her mom and abuela, but she had never been allowed to really take the reins. She had the recipe, though, so the first night after they were moved in, she ventured down to the closest bodega, bought the ingredients, and decided to try her hand making them from scratch. The recipe, however, left out the key piece of exactly how much water to use for steaming — Cass didn’t know, and her mom had always just eyeballed it. So she had ended up putting in way too little and setting the stove way too hot, and to make a long story short, ended up setting off the fire alarm. The one saving grace was the extremely attractive police office that came to double-check the false alarm, but even he couldn’t wipe the mortified expression off of her face.

“How could I forget?” Alicia responded with a grin. “Go put your shit down, it’ll be ready in a few.”

Cass playfully rolled her eyes, heading towards her room in the back. “Yes, mother.” Their apartment was a three bedroom; while obviously it would have been amazing for everyone to have their own, it was still New York City and none of them were exactly rolling in the dough. Cassidy and Ryanne were obviously still students, and while Alicia and Stella had actual jobs — Stella worked international business down by Wall Street and Alicia did something with satellites in Queens — none of them were exactly inclined to set out on their own just yet. So Stella and Alicia shared a room, and she and Ryanne had their own. She shrugged off her jacket, slinging her backpack onto the bed before chugging the rest of her water bottle and checking her phone. Two new emails. A 20% off coupon to Lush, and one from Chris Cohen. Chris Cohen? It took her a minute to remember, but when she did, she couldn’t read it fast enough.

Honestly, Cass didn’t read the whole thing, but got enough information to know that she had an interview Friday afternoon at the office in Brooklyn, that Chris — he had said to call him Chris — said she came with a stellar recommendation from Professor Murakami (an old law school buddy, figures) and that there was no way in hell she was going to fuck this up. She wouldn’t let herself.

---

Cass was lucky her Thursdays were so packed; if she had any extra time to stress over her impending interview, she would have, but she couldn’t. She had two ‘free’ hours in between classes, but after she had scarfed down lunch (Alicia had, mercifully, made plenty of leftovers) it was the only stretch she had to hit the gym. Coupled with the time it took to walk there, change, and shower after, there really wasn’t much in the way of downtime. After classes was her bar prep group, and the day was so exhausting that it was pretty much all she could manage to take the train home, microwave dinosaur chicken nuggets, and stumble into bed. After flossing.

---

If Cassidy lived in any other city, she would have felt wildly out of place on her morning commute. Who shows up to school wearing a suit? She wasn’t an absolute masochist, so her heels were in her bag. But for once in her life she didn’t feel so out of place among the presumably-highbrow, presumably-making-six-figures crowd surrounding her. The suit had been her first big purchase for herself — she had scraped by without one in college, but invested as soon as she had a little saved up from her summer job at a boutique in town. Her mother had always told her that it was the woman who made the clothes, rather than the other way around, and Cass always did what her mom said.

Samaira, one of her friends and another editor on the Columbia Law Review, caught up to her as they both left the twice-weekly morning meeting. “You seem kind of jumpy, Cass. What’s up?”

Cassidy wrung her hands and shrugged her shoulders. “I told you that I missed the internship requirement thing, right?” Samaira nodded. “Well, I have an internship in,” she paused to look at her watch, “two hours, and I’m so nervous I’m going to mess this up. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t get it. There’s not time to look for something else, there’s no alternative, and I don’t know what to do if my own stupidity and forgetfulness is the only thing standing in between me and something I’ve worked so fucking hard for—”

Samaira cut her off. “I’m going to stop you there. That’s bull, Cass, and you know it. You are the furthest thing from a disappointment. You’re one of the kindest, sharpest, and most creative people I know, and you’re not going to let something as petty as a deadline stand in your way. Time gets away from all of us sometimes, and it’s nothing to beat yourself up over. I want you to be confident and have faith in yourself, because you deserve it, but if you don’t, it’s okay. I get it. I believe in you enough for the both of us.” She squeezed Cass’ hand.

She managed a watery smile. “Thanks, Samaira.”

“Any time,” she replied easily. “I’ve got to run to class now, but I want to hear how it went the second you get out, okay?”

“I will.”

Samaira rolled her eyes. “I mean it. You’re going to crush this, Cass. Love you!” She added, waving goodbye as she turned the corner.

There was half an hour before Cass needed to head over to the interview, and before she knew it her feet had taken her to her favorite spot on the north side of Central Park. Grabbing a bagel, she thankfully found the bench empty. After finishing the bagel — she would have preferred cheese, but they were out, so cinnamon raisin it was — and the better part of her Hozier-dominated acoustic playlist, it was time to catch the train. She jumped on with barely a second to spare, grabbing a strap and trying to avoid bumping into anyone.

A seat opened up about halfway to Brooklyn, and Cass took the opportunity to unceremoniously tug off her much more practical flats and switch into the much more professional ankle-strap heels that had been stuffed in her backpack all day. For a fleeting moment, she was worried what everyone around her would think; she was, after all, technically changing on public transportation. A man got on at the next stop who was dressed head-to-toe in neon orange while carrying a Pomeranian in his purse. Nobody batted an eye. She got over herself pretty quickly.

Getting off at the Barclays Center station, Cass pulled out her phone, opening up the camera to give herself a quick once-over. As much as she hated it, first impressions really were everything. Lipstick? Not smudged. Hair? Minimal flyaways. Teeth? No spinach to be seen. Triple-checking that she had the time right, Cass walked through the doors of the office building, Islanders logo emblazoned on the wall behind the secretary’s desk.

“Hi,” she said tentatively, catching his attention. “I have an interview with Chris Cohen at 2?”

The secretary nodded, smiling warmly at her. “No problem. I’m Josh, you can have a seat over there,” he nodded to the small waiting area off to the side, “and I’ll call you when he’s ready for you to be sent up.”

Cass didn’t wait for more than five minutes before Josh gave her the go-ahead, and she was soon headed up the elevator to Chris’ office. “Fourth door on the left. It should have his name on it,” Josh had added.

She raised her fist, knocking quickly on the frosted glass. It swung open a second later, a kind-looking man with glasses and salt-and-pepper hair answering. “You must be Cassidy. I’m Chris Cohen, so nice to meet you. Come right in,” he said, ushering her through the room, where several other associates sat at desks, and into his office.

“David’s always good at keeping an eye out for me in his courses, and I was happy he passed you along,” Chris said, pulling out her resumé. “And you’re a 3L, correct?” She nodded. “Good. So let’s dive right into it. What courses and work experience do you have that you feel best position you for success in this position?” Much though Cass was loath to admit it, if there was anything she was good at, it was talking herself up. There was a reason her high school superlative was “Most Likely to be Able to Talk Their Way Out of a Ticket.” She launched into a well-rehearsed response, making sure to lace in her love for hockey once or twice. If nothing else, it would hopefully at least get her some brownie points. He had a few questions about her resumé, asked about her work on the law review, a few hypotheticals about contract law. She was batting a thousand until he asked the dreaded final question. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Cass was wracking her brain, trying to come up with some intelligent-sounding thing to ask, but nothing came. “Uh—” she started, but was saved by the bell. Or, rather, saved by a frantic door opening and a panicked-sounding Mat Barzal bursting into the room. “Chris, I’ve got a problem.”

#hockey imagine #hockey #nhl imagine #mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl #hockey writing #nhl writing #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #islanders #mat barzal imagines

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered Lives Ch 33 Pt 1

Gustaf was woken by a tiny body curling up at his back. He cracked an eye open and looked at the clock, 4:30. Well at least he had four hours sleep, he’d survived on less. He reached an arm back to hug the kid close to him. There were no sniffles or sobs so he wasn’t too worried. He figured the kid just needed to be close.

“You ok Finn?” He mumbled into the dark.

“I’mk.” His tiny voice so quiet even though his face was buried in Gustaf’s neck. “Can I stay?”

“You can stay, go back to sleep for a bit longer buddy.” He rolled enough to kiss him on the head and squish him in a one handed hug.

He got a few more hours before Lily decided it was Christmas Day and the entire family should be awake. “Good morning Lily bear.” He chuckled and she chattered her usual dad dad. He nuzzled Sildie’s neck breathing her in, feeling his hardening cock press against her ass, and then remembered he had a seven year old in the bed at his back. Morning wood would be difficult to explain.

“Morning love.” He chuckled as she woke, Lily’s squeals made sure she was awake.

“Morning. Ok Lily I’m up.” She giggled. “Sounds like the little lady wants presents.” She pulled back the covers and Gustaf dragged her back against her kissing her neck before she could get up.

“I have a need for you, but the seven year old plastered to my spine had put the kibosh on that lovely wake up I had planned for you this morning.” He chuckled.

“Nightmare?” She asked as he let her go.

“No, I think he just needed that connection.” He watched her closely, today was going to be rough.

“He needed a dad.” She said gently and leaned over kissing him before he could argue. “Take your time, I’ll get Lily and the boys up. He needs you Gustaf. He may not voice it but he needs you to just be you.” She kissed him again and went to deal with Lily.

He waited until Sildie had left with Lily before rolling over to face Finn, which was difficult to do when the kid was wrapped around his neck and stuck like glue. The boy was out cold, he’d obviously relaxed enough once he was next to Gustaf to let sleep claim him hard. He curled the kid into him and let him sleep, drifting into a doze himself.

He woke sharply when Finn stirred and a knee ended up in his ribs. Bright blue eyes looked at him and he smiled before wrapping his arms around Gustaf and hugging him tight.

“Easy kid.” He chuckled and hugged him back. “You ok champ?”

“Yeah.” He mumbled as he let Gustaf go.

“Did you have a nightmare last night?” He asked not really sure what the kid needed.

“No.” He shook his head. “Just sad.” Gustaf hated hearing that grief in his voice, in any kids voice.

“Wanna talk about it?” He wouldn’t push but wanted him to have the option.

“I’m sad they’re not here, but also if they were here I wouldn’t have you.” Finn said softly. Kid logic, Gustaf thought, simple, straight to the point with no added bullshit.

“I feel the same way.” Gustaf said gently.

“You do?” Finn looked at him puzzled.

“I do. I’m sad that your parents aren’t here, but, at the same time, if they were still here I wouldn’t have met Sildie, and I wouldn’t have four great kids in my life.” He watched the kid carefully not sure if it was the right thing to say or if a kid of his age really understood. “It’s ok to be sad they’re not here Finn, and you never have to feel bad or hide it from me ok? I get it.” Finn nodded and snuggled into Gustaf’s chest, the kid needed the connection, needed a dad.

Fuck, he thought, was he really ready for them to call him dad? It freaked him out if he was being completely honest. This is what you wanted, that little voice in his head echoed and he smiled. He wanted it, all of it, but it was scary as fuck.

Sildie smiled at the sight as she opened the bedroom door, tiny lanky body curled into a big lanky body, they were both all limbs. She sat on the edge of the bed and trailed a finger down Gustaf’s jaw before running her fingers over Finns hair and kissing his forehead.

“Doing ok in here?” She asked gently, she knew how sensitive Finn was. He climbed off Gustaf and hugged Sildie.

“I’m ok.” He said and kissed her.

“Breakfast is ready, how about you go get some pancakes?” She said and watched as the kid evaporated at the mention of food. She looked at Gustaf and watched him breath out carefully. “You ok?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Just freaking out a little.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Quinn’s are some fucking big shoes to fill Sildie.”

“Hey.” She cupped a palm to his face and kissed him tenderly. “Breathe.” She murmured against his lips as she could feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves. “Don’t worry about Quinn’s shoes. Just be you, that’s all they want.” She kissed him again. “It’s all I want, just you.” Her kiss was slow and loving. “Breathe love. You’re doing just fine.”

He took a calming breath and pulled her to him burying his face in her hair and letting her scent calm him. “My sweet man, it’s their choice, their decision.” She smiled and stroked his head as he held her. “Let it happen, they have so much love to give you.”

“I love you.” He mumbled into her hair.

“I love you too. Come on you can’t hide in here all day, breakfast then presents or were going to have a mutiny on our hands.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.” He said as she stood and held her hand out for him. He took it somewhat reluctantly, she was taking care of him like he took care of her. He stood and looked into those ice blue eyes, love and compassion looked back.

“See that you are.” She said kissing him. “I made bacon, you might want to come and get some before it’s all gone.” She grinned.

She could see this was difficult for him and only hoped he wouldn’t have a panic attack over it when the boys decided to let him know.

“Go easy with him today.” She said softly, sitting at the table and getting some pancakes for Lily. “If you’re going to ask him to be your dad, go easy, and expect a lot of tears and emotion, ok?” The boys looked at her. “I had to give him a heads up, it’s only fair with something this important. We can’t blindside him.”

Brendan nodded. “He wants to be though, right?” He asked slightly nervous.

“He wants to, but he’s not sure he’s worthy of the title or if he can be that for you like your dad was. But he wants to try. It’s a big deal for him, just try and remember that.”

“He already is though.” Finn said.

“I agree love, and I couldn’t be happier that you want him as a dad. Just be gentle, be kind. He will cry and he will get emotional. This is huge for him.” The boys nodded and she put her finger to her lips as Gustaf walked out in some really ugly Christmas pajamas.

He grinned at the giggles coming from the table.

“Those are really bad.” Sildie chuckled as he came over and kissed her.

“I know, I saw them and just had to.” His grin was wide.

They sat and ate breakfast, Lily ending up in Gustaf’s lap feeding him bacon and tiny crumbs of Lussekatta. The kids cleared the table and once a pot of tea was made they all sat around the tree while Brendan handed out presents. The twins helped Lily unwrap gifts as Sildie took photos and recorded some of it, Gustaf getting his own photos of them so they would have some with Sildie in there as well. He’d noticed that about the photos in the digital frame, there were about six with Sildie in them as she’d been behind the camera for most of the time.

There weren’t a lot of presents but those that were given and received were thoughtful and full of love. Gustaf saw the tiny package Sildie was opening and smirked, she was going to be furious. She opened the small box to reveal a key and frowned at it as it was oddly familiar.

“You look perplexed love.” He said, she could hear the knowing smirk in his voice.

“What’s it to?” She asked looking at him and holding it up. Her tone had the kids attention too. He knew that tone, suspicion and irritation.

“Why don’t you go down to the garage and find out.” He suggested.

He saw it the moment it clicked. “You didn’t.” She choked, staring at him. She didn’t know if she wanted to rage at him or kiss him.

“Oh, I did.” He nodded.

“He did what?” Liam asked not catching on just yet.

“He bought her the car.” Brendan said piecing it together. Damn the kid was as sharp as Sildie.

“I... you... I’m so mad at you right now.” She said simply, unable to put her words together.

“Ok.” He laughed.

“I specifically asked you not to buy me one.” She huffed.

“I know, and technically I didn’t, it’s still in my name.” He shifted closer to her and kissed her. “Presents are off limits love.” He grinned.

“Damn it Gustaf.” She sighed, she wasn’t angry per se, she was exasperated. “I don’t want your money.” She said quietly.

“I know.” He kissed her. “Please don’t be angry.” He murmured. “It’s nothing more than me trying to make your life easier. You need a new car so now you have one. The money you saved is still in the bank and you can use that for partner if you take it.” He swiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb and kissed her.

“No more spending money on me. This counts as at least five birthdays and Christmas’s.” She pleaded.

“No dice.” He kissed her quickly and grinned. “Presents are off limits and I like buying things for you.”

“You know you’d make a great lawyer considering the way you find your way around loopholes.” She said sarcastically.

“I’ll leave that to you.” He chuckled.

“Thank you.” She said gently, she couldn’t be mad. It was Christmas and he’d done it out of kindness and love, not for the sake of just buying it because it was expensive.

“I love you Sildie.” He kissed her temple.

“Love you too.” She bumped his shoulder with hers and he laughed.

She saw him pick up the thin package with gold wrapping and smiled. His brow knit as he studied the dvd wondering what on earth could be on it.

“You’ll need the laptop.” She said softly and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t worry it’s kid safe.” She chuckled, and that mischievous grin spread across his face. He wouldn’t mind a not kid safe sexy movie just for him to take with him when he was away.

He got up and found the laptop they used to Skype with him and sat back on the floor with it. Tugging her hand he urged her to sit closer wanting to watch it with her. He had no idea what was on it and nothing prepared him for the title page. Our Family, it said simply.

He looked at her and she smiled. “Play it.” She said gently, kissing him with that deep tenderness.

He pressed play and watched as every small home video they’d taken together on their phones flowed from one memory into the next. Looking over the top of the screen he saw Brendan smiling, the kid had put this together and found a way to sneak into his phone and download all the videos he had of them.

“You’re sneaky.” He said playfully to the teen, to which the kid just shrugged and grinned.

“I figured this would hold you over until we can get some more together.” Her voice quiet.

“I love it, and I love you. It’s perfect.” He placed the laptop on the floor, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “I can watch it when I’m away on set.”

“I love you too, Merry Christmas.”

“Our first together.” His voice thick with emotion.

“Just the beginning love. We have many more to go.”

“Yes we do.”

With their gifts opened Gustaf stayed on the floor with Lily while the boys tidied up the paper and Brendan made a fresh pot of tea.

“We have one more present for Gustaf.” Brendan said hesitantly his eye flicking to Sildie, not sure if this was the right time but the three boys had decided today was the day. Gustaf’s gut lurched as Brendan and the twins handed him an envelope.

“It’s something the four of us made.” He shrugged, the teen trying not to make it too big a deal, especially with Sildie’s warning. Gustaf’s hand shook as he took it from him. The twins sat beside him and Brendan sat in front so he could keep Lily occupied while Gustaf read the letters the four of them had written.

His throat was chocked with emotion as he unfolded the first piece of paper. It was a drawing, obviously done by Brendan at the level of skill involved. A portrait of all six of them, a family unit. If the kid didn’t go into cooking he could certainly find a career in drawing, he was exceptional. As he stared at it he saw that there were colorful scribbles over the picture and Lily’s handprints in yellow paint in the corners. He smiled and had to stifle the sob that wanted to escape as he ran his thumb over the dried paint.

He felt Sildie sit behind him, felt her mold her body against his back much like she’d done in the cabin when he burned the notebook. She was grounding him and he took a steadying breath as her fingers fanned out over his heart.

The second piece of paper was from the twins. Again, a drawing of the six of them, in a house as a family, more stick figure than portrait, but something they had thought about, something that they had worked on together for him. Their handprints were done in orange and green, the names of each person underneath. His thumb brushed over the dad inscribed in blue, the mum in red and he sucked in a breath barely holding onto his composure. The final piece of paper was a letter, and Gustaf’s eyes flicked to Brendan before he started to read. He saw the nervousness in the teens eyes.

It was simply written, words from their hearts. Hearts of four children that had lost so much, yet willing to give him so much of themselves freely. They weren’t words to impress, but to convey their love. To ask him for the one thing they needed, the one thing to fill that void of never ending grief, that heart wrenching sorrow. To be the man in their life, the dad in their life, to help them heal.

It spoke of the love they would always have for Quinn and the harsh reality that he was gone. Words from four kids, childhoods partly destroyed by tragedy, where things were anything but normal. He crumpled, he had no words, no way of answering as his emotions completely consumed him. Leaning back into Sildie he pinched his fingers to his eyes as he wept, felt her kiss at his temple, the assurance that he was ok, that this was all ok. How did he be this person, how did he be a dad to them? Sildie’s words from earlier echoed through his mind, they just want you. Just be you.

Brendan’s eyes met Sildie’s and she smiled, mouthing an “it’s ok” at the kids alarmed look. She had warned them and had been expecting it. This was a huge step for them, for Gustaf, and her heart was so full it felt like it would explode. With their letters still in his hand Gustaf wrapped an arm around Brendan and the twins and pulled them in close, the last line of the letter replaying in his head.

You’re the only dad we have now.

Lily squealed at being caged in by so many bodies and Gustaf chuckled releasing the twins, sniffing and trying to get a grip. Brendan held on tight as Sildie scooted back and pulled Lily into her lap.

“I love you dad.” Came the faint mumble and Gustaf sobbed holding the teen tighter, his body shaking. It was new for them too and with all the emotion that had crashed through him he’d forgotten that.

“Love you too B.” He managed to get out before more tears fell. He kissed the teens head and held him tight. Watching the photos scroll through on the digital frame he let it just consume him. There was no way he was containing this. He felt the twins curl into him and pulled them close again, Sildie’s hand at his lower back, soothing, grounding. Sitting there with his family in his arms he let the tears fall, let the love and warmth from four amazing kids surround him, soothe him.

When he managed to get some measure of control he loosened his grip on the kids and they sat back, tears of their own falling.

“I love you guys.” He said shakily as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s going to take a bit to get used to.” He sniffed and Sildie handed him the tissues.

“We just wanted you to know.” Finn said quietly and hugged him.

“Can we take it slow?” Gustaf asked, as he planted a kiss to Finns head, and to his relief the kids nodded. “Because this is going to choke me up for a while.” He wiped his eyes and stared at the portrait Brendan had done. “This is beautiful.” He murmured, his hand cupping the back of the teens neck to draw him in for another hug. “And so’s this.” He unfolded the twins picture and grinned. “That reminds me, I almost forgot. I have another gift for you guys next door.” He felt Sildie’s hand squeeze his shoulder at his words.

“More?” Liam’s face lit up.

“More.” Gustaf kissed Liam’s head and folded the three pieces of paper carefully as if they were delicate 16th century priceless art works and returned them to the envelope. To him they were, they were priceless and so very special.

Sildie almost cried as she watched Gustaf get to his feet, go straight to his messenger bag, and place that envelope in his notebook. She knew that notebook went with him everywhere. A lesser man would have sat it with all the other gifts to maybe toss at the bottom of a box later, but not her man. No, he would keep those with him, on him forever, pull them out and look at them when he needed to remind himself of what incredible kids he had.

She stepped in front of him as he went to grab his keys and he stopped abruptly, his gaze finding hers. She placed her palm over his heart and kissed him. “I love you.” She said tenderly.

His hands disappeared into her hair and he devoured her mouth so thoroughly she was breathless when he spoke. “And I’m so in love with you.” His smile wide. “Shall we go next door and surprise the kids?”

“Are you ok?” She asked, resting her forehead against his.

“I am, a little shaken but I’m ok. I just need time to process and I think they do too.” He closed his eyes and tried to settle. “That was huge and overwhelming.”

“They just want you, love.” Her kiss was soft. “Just be the wonderful soul you are.”

“I just want them too. And you.” He growled the last two words and snapped his eyes open to find hers as she giggled.

“Take a breath.” She said gently and smiled as it shuddered out of him. “And another.”

He calmed, the breath leveling him out. “Thank you.” He murmured and kissed her temple. “You know just what I need.”

They headed next door and as the boys stood in the living room while Gustaf collected the three small boxes from his office . They tore the wrapping off and looked puzzled at the key in their hand.

“Ok the deal is if you can find what the key opens you can have it.” Gustaf grinned, Sildie’s chuckle was all he heard as three boys looked at each other and then started looking for all the keyholes in the place. “Don’t worry I’ll change their door handles back to regular ones tomorrow.” He murmured and kissed her temple.

“Does Lily gets keys too?” Liam asked.

“She does, but I wanted you guys to find yours first since she’s going to need your help finding hers.” He said.

Gustaf knew Brendan had figured it out and was always amazed at how the teen put his brothers first. Holding off for the twins, helping them find their room first after searching for a bit. They went all over the apartment, Brendan turning it into a scavenger hunt. Silence descended as the twins stared at their room, while Brendan opened the door to his. Brendan looked at Gustaf, not quite sure if he understood correctly. He was sure Sildie had said she was going to ask Gustaf to move in with them. Gustaf turned to Sildie.

“Move in with me?” He asked loud enough for the boys to hear.

She looked over to Brendan to see a smile bloom across his face. “What do you think guys? Should we move in here with Gustaf?”

“These rooms are for us?” Liam asked in awe.

“All for you. There’s one at the end of the hall for Lily too so Ama doesn’t have to share anymore.” The boys crowded into Lily’s room and Sildie chuckled.

“I think they’re ok with it.” She whispered to him as he took Lily from her and kissed the tiny girl until she giggled.

“Come see your room little lady.” He set her down and she went exploring. The boys did much the same in their own rooms.

“Mum come seeeee.” Liam said grabbing her hand and dragging her to their room. Mum, she thought, we’ll she’d kind of expected that considering. If the kids were ok with the sentiment then she was too, sort of. They needed closure, they needed to move forward and if calling her mum helped them she’d suck it up. She knew deep down she wasn’t mum material but for them she’d try.

“When can we move in? Can we sleep here tonight?” Finn asked hopeful, as he sat on the bottom bunk with a book.

“We can start moving in tomorrow and we’ll see about where we sleep tonight. We don’t have things for Lily over here, no food.” She just wanted to get through today and there was so much more of the day to go.

“We can always camp out tonight.” Gustaf said walking back to them, Lily on his hip. “Why don’t you take a shower and the boys can help me move some stuff across and we can sleep here tonight.” He stroked a finger down her jaw and curled the wave of hair around it.

“You’re sure?” She said hesitantly.

“Never more sure love. Then we can move everything else tomorrow.” He kissed her long and slow. “Besides.” He growled. “I want you in our bed tonight.” He nipped her ear lobe gently and her giggle made his cock twitch.

The boys practically skipped home and started to help Gustaf pack up and move everything they’d need next door for their sleep over. It had gone better than she could have hoped for, she thought as the hot water soothed and relaxed her. By the time she was getting dressed the boys were taking their showers and Gustaf had Lily in the tub.

She decided on leggings and an oversized sweater. She wanted comfort. “Is this ok?” She asked and he smiled at her.

“Love, you’d look good in a paper bag.” He chuckled.

“Be serious.” She said shortly and he heard the anxiety in her tone.

He placed Lily on the floor to play and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m very serious, and yes what you have on is fine. I’m just going in jeans a shirt. My sister is probably going to be in something similar.” He kissed her, lingering. “Relax.” He murmured. “Breathe. It’ll be ok with whatever you decide to wear.”

“Ok.” She nodded and whooshed a breath out.

“Go get the boys squared away while I take a shower and then we can go.” He kissed her sweetly. “I’ll be right there with you love, together, you and me.” She nodded and then kissed him.

“Just nervous.”

“I am too.” He confessed.

“You’re nerv....” She choked. “Great.” Her squeak made him smile.

“Yes. Would you like to know why?” He kissed her tenderly and she nodded.

“You’re the first woman I’ve brought home for Christmas.” Kissing her temple he breathed her in, calm.

“I’m what?”

“My family met Ana and previous girlfriends, even Hanna my first wife, but I never had them home for family Christmas. Most of the time they were with their own families or I was working. I’d asked, their families were more important which is understandable. It stung a little I’m not going to lie, but you’re the first and last woman I’ll be taking home for Christmas.” His hands roamed her body and pressed her against the hard lean length of his. “I’m nervous because you mean so much to me and I want them to love you as much as I do.”

“They’re your family Gustaf, they love what you love.” She scoffed, remembering what Bill had said in the car to her that night.

“Yes, but I... I want things to go smoothly for you.” He said honestly. “I don’t want you or the kids feeling uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be ok.” She said forcing the smile, she wasn’t convinced but she’d try.

“And I’m nervous after the boys gift.” He choked. “It’s a lot to live up to, I’m still reeling a bit and I... I’m fucking terrified.” He looked at her hoping it wouldn’t compound her already heightening anxiety.

“We can be terrified together. Apparently I’m mum now.” She chuckled and blew out a breath. “Go shower.” She kissed him. “Let’s get it done and then sleep in our bed.”

“Now that I can get down with.” He said gently and kissed her quickly before heading to shower.

With the Kladdkaka and presents packed, kids in coats, Lily in her stroller, and her nerves relegated to a deep pit in her stomach, they walked to the Skarsgard family home. By the time they were in the elevator she’d let the lawyer surface and wrangled her emotions, she would get through this and she was not going to embarrass Gustaf by having a complete meltdown in front of his entire family. With that firmly decided she plastered a smile on her face and let the lawyer take the reigns.

Even though his parents were divorced his mother My still lived in the house Gustaf grew up in, and his parents had an amicable relationship which meant Stellan would be here with his wife and two sons. All Sildie knew was there were going to be lots of people, and probably lots of questions, she was ambivalent about both.

Gustaf walked straight through the door without knocking, each child knew they had an open door at their mothers house. Sildie was greeted by voices and music as Gustaf helped her with her coat and pulled Lily out of her stroller to hang up her coat and snuggle with him. She looked at Brendan and could see the teen was nervous but ok, same with Liam, but Finn was glued to her leg.

“Give me a minute.” She murmured to Gustaf and pried Finn loose enough to get down on his level. “You nervous love?” She asked gently and he nodded. “Me too.” She smiled shyly when his eyes met hers.

“Can I hold your hand and stay with you?” He asked in a barely audible voice.

“Of course. You know, I think Uncle Bill is here today too.” She said looking at Gustaf.

“He will be if he’s not already here, and Oona and Aunt Alida.” He added, he felt for the kid, lots happening and slightly unsure of his new surroundings. Finn was sensitive and hated crowds, just like Sildie.

“Then maybe you can play Mario cart later.” She saw the slight smile and hoped that was enough to keep him from freaking out.

She took his hand and Liam’s and walked behind Gustaf, Brendan followed with the Kladdkaka. Gustaf introduced them to the room and she was greeted by happy smiles and friendly waves. Heading to the kitchen she noticed everyone seemed to see them, say hi, but not crowd them, and she was thankful for that. She smiled as Bill came toward them, a familiar face she was relieved to see. Brendan and Liam went with him to meet Valter, but Finn stuck to Sildie and hid behind her, even with Bill.

“He’ll be ok Bill, he just needs some time to adjust.” She said squeezing Finn’s hand and the kid squeezed back. It was their own secret communication of checking in with each other.

“Bathroom?” Sildie asked Gustaf before they headed into the throng of people.

“Down the hall, last door on the right.” He kissed her sweetly.

“Good to know.” She smiled and squeezed Finn’s hand again. If Finn knew where the bathroom was he’d have somewhere he could go to breathe and collect his thoughts.

Finn seemed to blend into Sildie and as she was introduced to Gustaf’s cousins she was relieved that none of them pushed an introduction to the kid, or a conversation. It was painfully obvious that he wasn’t handling things well. That changed when Gustaf’s father came over to say hello.

“And who’s this little guy attached to your leg?” He asked conversationally, not pushing.

“This is Finn, his twin is Liam, who I think ran off with Bill at some point.” Sildie chuckled. “Finn and I are kindred spirits, we don’t handle big crowds very well.” She squeezed Finn’s hand and he squeezed back as he pressed tighter against her leg.

“Ah. I understand completely. My youngest boy is the same way. Can I?” He asked, pointing to Finn and at Sildie’s nod he dropped to the kids level. She saw now where Gustaf got it from, that compassion, that kindness, the never ending patience. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

“Hi Finn.” He said gently.

“Hi.” Came a mumbled, barely there reply as he pressed himself tighter against Sildie’s leg. Sildie was grateful he hadn’t completely shut down.

“I hear from Gustaf you like the Harry Potter movies?” Stellan looked up at Sildie and she could have kissed the man. Finn nodded quickly, his face still half attached to Sildie’s leg. “My youngest son likes them too and is watching the first one, would you like to come and watch it with him? It’s a little quieter over there and not as many people.”

Finn looked up at Sildie and she squeezed his hand willing the universe for him to take a leap of faith and go. She got down to his level and kissed him. “You can go watch it, I’ll be right here.”

Stellan held out his hand and waited, he was offering but not pushing and Finn could see that. He took Stellans hand and squeezed Sildie’s.

“Are you Gustaf’s dad?” He asked quietly.

“I am.” Stellan smiled. “Ready for some Harry Potter magic?”

Finn nodded and dropped both Sildie’s and Stellan’s hand before hugging Sildie tightly around the neck. “I’ll be right here love, I won’t leave without you and you can come find me or Gustaf at any time ok?”

“Ok. Love you mum.”

“Love you too. I’m proud of you. Go make some new friends.” She said smiling at him when he let her go and took Stellan’s hand again. She watched them go and blew a breath out as she stood. She felt Gustaf’s hand at her waist, his lips at her jaw.

“Ok it’s official, your dad is awesome.” She chuckled. “My new bestie.”

“He’s good with kids.”

“One would hope so considering he has the eight of you.” She quipped and Gustaf’s laugh eased the tension in her shoulders.

He introduced her to Valter who was just a big goofy kid at heart. He owned the house in the realm of video games and she saw now why Gustaf wanted Finn to go up against him, although Brendan and Liam were holding their own quite well. Valter and Brendan seemed to be on the same wavelength as the geek speak flowed as easily as their native tongue.

“If we can persuade Finn to play he’d wipe the floor with him.” Gustaf murmured pointing at Valter and Sildie smiled.

“Let’s play that by ear, he might relax more as the night goes on.” She said softly.

“There are other nights, doesn’t have to be tonight.”

He led her back out to the living room, introducing her to more people, his hand at her back a constant source of grounding and comfort. She was going to have a hard time remembering everyone’s name. They stopped near a man that was taller than Gustaf by a few inches with his back to them.

“Sam.” Gustaf said and tapped him on the shoulder.

As her eyes landed on his face she felt her entire world bottom out. “Dr Sam.” She choked, the familiar lightheadedness and prickling of her skin her only warning her system was about to implode, catastrophically.

“Sildie?” He said puzzled, his brow knit.

She saw the recognition in his eyes as her chest tightened. “Excuse me a moment I need the bathroom.” She managed to wheeze out before she broke from Gustaf’s grip abruptly and fled. Last door on the right, last door on the right she repeated, the wheeze tightening her chest. She burst through the door and slammed it shut turning the lock and virtually collapsed on the floor as her legs crumpled under her. Bringing her knees up she sat trying to force oxygen into her lungs, while making herself as small as she could. She would not pass out or have a fucking coronary today she willed.

Gustaf didn’t know what the fuck was going on. At her choked Dr Sam he’d watched the color drain from her face to a sickly grey.

“What the fuck Sam?” He spat, turning on his brother, temper flaring. Yes, he had one, it didn’t surface often or easily, but he had one and it was volatile. “You two know each other?” He wanted to go after Sildie but he had to know what he was getting into first.

“I’m sorry.” Sam said in his gentle manner, knowing how explosive his brother could be. “It didn’t click until just now. I looked after her brother in the ICU, mum was with his wife.” He sighed out, his gaze flicking to Lily, the realization that this was the child his wife had been carrying. “Shit Goose, I didn’t know. I see hundreds of people a year I don’t remember them all and it didn’t click.”

“Fuck!” Gustaf swore and glared at his brother. “Didn’t click? How did it not become fucking obvious when I told you her name?” He spat. “This will fucking destroy her.” He seethed. “She’s spent the better part of two months, two months Sam, working her herself up to come and meet everyone without losing her shit.”

“Goose, I’m sorry, but I don’t remember everyone I treat.” It was the truth and Gustaf knew it but he was livid. The one thing he didn’t want shoved in her face today had been firmly rammed down her throat.

“We’re not fucking done.” He snarled and set off down the hall with Lily still snuggled in his arms.

He stood outside the bathroom and hesitated, his hand poised to knock. He could hear her sobs and felt like shit. How had he not seen this as a possibility? Because there is more than one hospital in the city and Sam can’t control who his patients are you moron, he swore silently. He felt like shit for that now too, the way he’d ripped into him, jumped down his throat without thinking. What a fucking mess. He took a breath, she needed him calm, she needed him to be her rock. “Breathe.” He said softly as he got rid of the rage at his brother. “Just breathe.”

She heard the soft knock and the call of her name before the lock clicked open. It was like the voice was down the end of a tunnel as black clouded her vision. Damn it to hell she would not pass out. Still forcing air into her lungs he closed and relocked the door.

His heart broke, she was sitting on the floor, knees under her chin, eyes red, that tell tale wheeze as she tried to breathe. He sat beside her, hauling her into his lap with Lily.

“I’m so sorry love, I didn’t know. Sam didn’t either.” He sighed, kissing her head and stroking his fingers through her hair more to soothe himself.

“I know.” She sobbed. “I’m not mad it just... I can’t breathe.” She wheezed.

“There’s more.” He said gently. Fuck this was going to destroy her. “My mum was with Dana.” He dropped that piece of news quickly, like ripping off a bandaid.

“Oh.” She said quietly before a new wave of tears fell, the choked sobs that made her wheeze worse.

“Let it out love.” He soothed, it was the only way now, there was no going back. There was no calm breathing, she needed to cry it out, she needed to let it consume her to move past it when it had gone beyond breathing techniques and conscious thought. “I’m so sorry love, I never meant for it to happen like this.”

“It’s ok.” Her sobs catching in her throat.

“No, it’s not, but it will be.” He said softly as he held her tighter as she fell apart. “Pass out if you need to I’ve got you love let it come.”

She let the grief swamp her, she was safe and he was with her. Letting it go was the only way now as his hand stroked her back, soothing, calming. “Deep breaths for me love.” He murmured as her sobs lessened, his gentle string of instruction calming her further.

Lily squirmed after a while and let it be known she wasn’t happy with the current situation and Sildie laughed as she sat up, her breathing calmer. He settled her, leveled her out.

“She wants you all to herself.” She sniffed and started to reign it in. “Not that I blame her.”

“I love you.” He said tenderly, fingers toying with the wave of copper at her jaw.

“I love you too. I’m so sorry.” She said as she climbed off him and stood, throwing cool water on her face to get a grip. “Sam must think I’m a fucking basket case.” She huffed.

“Don’t. That was some slap in the face Sildie and I never meant for that to happen.” He stood behind her, kissed her neck, and let his hand wander under her sweater to find bare skin at her hip. “Relax.” He murmured and rubbed a hand up and down her spine, the skin on skin contact what she needed. “Get through the rest of this and I’ll make it all better when we get home, to our room, in our bed.”

His gaze met hers in the mirror and he saw the lawyer surface. “There’s my girl.” He growled. “So fucking strong for me.”

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#gustaf skarsgard #gustaf skarsgard fanfiction #shattered lives

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hollywooduniversityalumnus · 4 years ago

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5. headhunter

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Another day, another lecture.

Thomas paced in front of his students, having abandoned his stance before the lectern more than half an hour ago. With only fifteen minutes left until class ended, and still much to cover, he spoke at a slightly faster speed than usual. He doubted his students noticed; most of them had packed away their notebooks already and were distracting themselves with their phones held in their laps.

Fools, he thought. Do they think I don’t know what they’re doing?

He didn’t have time to raise hell for their insolence; he had a meeting to attend. So, as much as he hated letting things slide, he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

“The more credited ‘writers’ a film has, the worse it will be. The sheer number of revisions a screenplay must go through to rack up six, seven, eight writers . . . it’s appalling!” He rubbed his temples with his fingers, as if trying to erase the memories of his time trying to – and ultimately passing on - play script doctor for an action-adventure franchise that had employed no less than eight writers to cobble together the final, nonsensical storyline that effectively alienated large droves of the franchise’s fans.

Checking his watch, he mentally cursed at the time before heading right for his desk.

“Remember, your papers on prewar and postwar experimental cinema are due next class. Any submissions sent in later than precisely nine o’clock in the morning will be deducted points. None of you could stand to lose any points, if the grades so far for this class this semester are any indication. Class dismissed.”

Thomas turned his attention to packing up his things and hightailing it out of the lecture hall. Yet, beyond the rush of feet moving towards the door and mindless chatter about what people’s plans for the evening were – did I ever consider Wednesday nights party nights in college? he wondered briefly – he could hear a few distinct voices among the din.

“Since when does Hunt check with you before he does something?” he heard Ethan Blake say.

He paused in the middle of stashing away his laptop.

After a pause, Miss Schuyler said, “I just meant . . . don’t you think he’d tell the class before-”

“Are we really discussing this in front of him?” Miss Sinclair stage whispered.

He lifted his head to find the three students still standing by their desks, looking directly at him. Upon capturing his attention, they started at being caught and leapt into extremely unnatural stances: Ethan Blake rubbed the back of his neck with one hand while staring pointedly upwards, Miss Sinclair focused intently on the palms of her hands, and Miss Schuyler . . . was still looking at him, but had pasted a terrifyingly wide smile on her face.

He glanced again at his watch. He truly didn’t have time for this.

Rolling his eyes at the trio, he headed straight for his office to grab his jacket and keys. Then, it was off to the inanely named restaurant where he’d be meeting the faculty recruiter of Southern California University’s film school.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“Don’t you think he’d tell the class before ditching us in the middle of the year?” Margot asked. “He isn’t the type to cut and run. I just know he isn’t! We can’t let him leave!”

Ethan’s eyebrows rose. “You’re awfully emotional about this news.”

Margot glared at him over the table grill of Grilling Me Softly, a Korean barbeque restaurant that opened twenty minutes away from the university. Their platters of pork belly, lemon-and-herb marinated chicken, chadolbagi, and bulgogi had arrived, and it was her turn to do the cooking. She tweaked with her hair, which she’d pulled up into Sailor Moon-like buns to keep the long locks from enticing the flames.

The sight of her with metal tong poised in the air and her glare piercing him from across the circular table had Ethan quickly changing his tune.

“It’s good that you care,” he backtracked. “I just . . . if there’s any professor who would evoke that kind of response from me if there were rumours of them leaving, it would be, like, Moriyama. Someone with a heart.”

Addison, who was already digging into her portion of their wild mushroom japchae starter, nodded, cheeks bulging with food.

“He did defend me in my hearing, or have you forgotten?” Margot picked up a few pieces of meat from each plate and dropped it onto the grill, reveling in the satisfying sizzle and steam that instantly came out upon contact. “He’s not so bad.”

Addison dabbed at the corners of her lips with a napkin. “Okay, but how are we going to convince him to stay?”

A body slid into one of the seats next to Ethan so suddenly that the agent nearly leapt from his. Crash, smiling broadly, immediately reached for a bowl of soft rice and egg, chopsticks at the ready in the blink of an eye.

“Convince who?” he asked.

“Jesus, Crash,” Ethan said, pressing a hand over his heart to calm it.

“We’re convincing Jesus?”

Margot rolled her eyes. “Where’s Lisa? Didn’t she give you a ride here?”

Crash, around a mouthful of egg, mumbled something about paparazzi. Margot craned her head around just in time to see her pink-haired friend arrive, settling into the seat beside her while keeping her gaze focused on one of the booths in a corner of the restaurant.

“Hey, Lisa,” she said, turning the meat over with precision.

Lisa wrangled her hair into a high ponytail, securing it with an acid-green scrunchie that clashed horrendously with her outfit and made Addison mentally weep at the fashion faux pas. She finally tore her gaze away from the corner and shot them all a look.

“Hunt’s here,” Lisa said.

Margot’s eyes widened. “Here? In a place called Grilling Me Softly? There’s no way.”

Ethan snickered. “I feel like he’d disintegrate before he’d set foot in a university student hangout, much less one with a punny name.”

“Maybe it’s another man who wears a suit every minute of every day,” Crash suggested.

“Uh, this ‘university student hangout’ is more expensive than our usual fish and chips or burger joints,” Lisa pointed out. “Still, isn’t it strange? And who is that woman he’s with?”

Margot’s cheeks flushed at the mention of a woman.

Not that she had any claim on him whatsoever. She wasn’t even sure of her feelings for him anymore. Sure, they had . . . something, but it wasn’t clear what it meant to him, and she didn’t want to act like a fool for him if he was solely focused on being her instructor.

Maybe he’s a friend now, she considered. He’s done some friendly things. He’s held his umbrella over me, drove me home after the date auction, and comforted me on the movie set. He didn’t have to do those things, but he did.

He also kissed me, she reminded herself, and she quickly busied herself with replacing the meat on the grill with new slabs, distributing the cooked pieces to her hungry friends.

Meanwhile, with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, Ethan maneuvered his head until he caught a glimpse of the professor sitting in the corner booth. He squinted at the person he was seated across before turning back to his friends, a mixture of awe and shock on his face.

“Penelope Locke,” he said in a hushed voice. “Headhunter for Southern California U.”

Lisa’s eyes flashed with excitement. “Like an assassin?”

“Who would eat dinner with their assassin?” Ethan replied.

Crash smiled. “I would, just to say I did.”

“You wouldn’t have survived-”

“Guys.” Margot turned her attention back to Ethan. “A headhunter, eh? So he really must be considering leaving Hollywood U.”

Her stomach twisted. Though the smell of the sizzling beef and pork belly was intoxicating, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to eat any of it knowing that Professor Hunt was sitting across the room possibly planning his escape.

And then the dak kalguksu she ordered came, and her stomach untwisted itself in anticipation of the noodle soup she’d been craving for weeks.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

Across the crowded restaurant, Thomas tasted the plum wine Penelope Locke ordered for them both and sighed. It wasn’t scotch, but it would tide him over until he could get home and have a few fingers from his favourite bottle before bed.

The woman sitting across from him knew his game already, but still pitched him on an open faculty position at SCU Cinematic Arts. But mostly, she kept her expression serious, even when they endured the forty-five minute “meeting” with mostly small talk and occasional glances at the paparazzi waiting for . . . whoever was important enough to be present and photographed at a place called Grilling Me Softly.

Eventually, the bill arrived. Penelope tucked a credit card into the black leather booklet quickly and handed it back to them. Thomas polished off his wine before slipping out of his seat.

“Thank you, Penelope,” he said quietly.

“Anything for a friend.” Penelope’s face was carefully blank as she added, “The paparazzi was a nice touch. They’ll hear about this meeting in no time.”

“Perfect.” He pulled on his coat. “Though I admittedly didn’t plan that part.”

He turned his head to survey the room, searching for the person who had attracted the photographers outside like moths to the table grill’s flames. A shock of pink hair that he usually saw in a bedhead disarray caught his attention, and he groaned internally at noticing that Miss Schuyler and her entourage (including the celebrity in question, Lisa Valentine) were stuffing themselves with near-reckless abandon.

“Do you know them?” Penelope asked, tilting her chin towards the group.

Thomas grimaced. “Yes. I’ll admit I’ve never seen them eat before. It’s . . . rather disturbing.”

Penelope laughed. “Good thing we arrived when we did. They might bankrupt this restaurant yet.”

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

The week after his meeting with Penelope, Thomas settled behind his desk in the lecture hall as his Hollywood 101 class filed in slowly. He had already laid out the grading rubrics for the students presenting their midterm projects that day. And, as the presentations began, he immediately regretted staying out a little later than usual the night before, catching up with an old colleague who had since become Hillview Film Academy’s recruiter.

Seriously, Thomas thought, Lance’s continued attendance at this university is inconceivable. Who does a midterm presentation on “glossy, tangle-taming hair masks for the modern male model”?

When it came to Miss Sinclair’s presentation, however, he was admittedly impressed by the line of men’s business suits she had come up with. Though he felt she should have cited a more recent point of inspiration than Mad Men or Sex and the City, he marked her accordingly, noting the special craftsmanship and detail-conscious care that she had put into every suit on display.

I wouldn’t mind wearing the gray one . . .

Clearing his throat authoritatively, he spoke up. “I’m surprised at your drastic change in artistic direction, Miss Sinclair. I hope you have defended your decisions in the accompanying write-up.”

Miss Sinclair nodded.

Thomas checked his list. “Finally, Mister Yamaguchi.”

Spencer Yamaguchi grinned, already making his way to the door. “All right! I’ve got it all set up in one of the auditoriums. It’s a one-man show about a plucky hero, who struggles with his-”

“Save it for the show, Mister Yamaguchi.” Thomas sighed as he looked at his neatly organized desktop. “And in future, please inform us beforehand if we are to move locations for project presentations. That goes for all of you.”

Grumbling, Thomas picked up his rubrics and laptop and herded the class to the auditorium. While they settled into their seats, Mister Yamaguchi disappeared behind the red velvet curtains that obscured the stage. Among the murmuring of the students waiting for the show to begin, Thomas could hear a microphone check and a five-second snippet of music being tested on the sound system.

The lights went down.

The curtains came up.

A spotlight turned on, illuminating a backdrop of two-dimensional high-rises and streets edged with trees and parked cars.

And the song that had begun to play as part of the sound system check began and continued as the protagonist appeared.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“Welcome to The Many Adventures of the Amazing Arachnid Boy!” crowed Crash from where he dangled from the ceiling, parallel to the stage. “I’m your host, Arachnid Boy himself, and this is the story of . . . me.”

From behind her, Margot could hear Professor Hunt snort. Hearing such an undignified sound from him made her smile.

The hip-hop beat kicked in, and Crash began climbing a cardboard skyscraper, freestyling about his new superpowers without stumbling over his words. His dark red leather jacket had an iron-on spider-shaped patch on the back, and he turned around to show the audience it as the song slowed down for a melancholy bridge.

“No one knows my pain, no one knows the strain,” Crash sang, “on my mental health, gotta be so stealthy . . . I know I seem witty, ‘cause I fly above the city, but when I stop, I can’t stop, I won’t stop . . .”

The beat kicked back in, and he jumped around and immediately leapt to the next cardboard building with exuberance.

“I can’t risk someone getting the drop on me, finding out my identity, putting the serenity of my family at risk . . . ya hear me, villains? Take a shot at me, you’d better not miss!”

As Crash’s show continued, Margot snuck glances over her shoulder at the professor. He seemed more shocked than anything else, and his pen was moving at lightning speed over the paper he had balanced on a clipboard.

Hopefully those are good notes, she thought.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

After Mister Yamaguchi’s self-insert rip-off of an existing superhero defeated its archenemy, the Emerald Elf, the audience around Thomas jumped to its feet in raucous applause. Thomas brought his hands together twice before returning to his notes, jotting down some last-minute observations – rhymed “city” with “litty”; did the Emerald Elf need a self-deprecating R&B solo? – and then ushering the class back into the lecture hall.

“Our presenters for next class are Miss Valentine, Miss Stone, Mister Ortega, Miss Perez, Jayden, and Miss Schuyler. The remaining students will be presenting the following class. Until then, class dismissed.”

As Thomas unlocked his laptop to begin inputting grades, he sensed someone sidling up to him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who might be approaching him.

“Hello, Professor,” Miss Schuyler said softly. Her bag was already slung over her shoulder. A quick glance to the door indicated that her friends were leaving her behind; he almost wished he could call them back in, to make sure that whatever it was she had to say was said in front of witnesses.

After the Fairy Kingdom Formal, he’d felt odd whenever he so much as looked at her. He wasn’t sure what to make of the new sensation. He worried that it meant something. But it couldn’t, could it? She was a decade younger than him. She was his student. It couldn’t be-

She told you about her childhood, he reminded himself. She confided in you. It’s not love. It’s you worrying over how she lived when she was younger. That’s all.

He wanted his thoughts to stop right there, but they kept coming anyway, like a second inner voice had joined the conversation to argue a different opinion.

You knew it was her at the masquerade. You spoke with her. You danced with her. You kissed her.

Stop.

You took care of her when she was hungry, cold, and sad. You slept in the same bed as her.

It meant nothing. It was nothing-

You drove her to her dorm after Chris Winters left her in the aquarium. She told you she thought you mattered to her, and you lived off that feeling for days after.

Stop-

You held your umbrella over her. You helped her get to her ride home with little incident.

That doesn’t mean anything-

You like her.

Stop-

You might even love-

“Professor?”

He blinked and found himself staring up at a very concerned Margot.

“Are you all right?” She adjusted the strap on her shoulder. “I was just . . . did you like Crash’s musical?”

He felt a bit dizzy. “It was interesting,” he said slowly.

“Good interesting?”

He cocked his head to the side, which didn’t help the vertigo. “I always find it fascinating when students suddenly decide that their passions have changed, Miss Schuyler.”

And, though she was an admittedly talented actress, Margot did not hide her nervousness. “Oh, yeah. I see how that could be interesting.”

“Might you know anything about Mister Yamaguchi and Miss Sinclair’s newfound passions?” he asked, mostly to see her squirm.

There, see? he told himself. I revel in making her uncomfortable, in treating her just like all my other students. This “love” theory is absolute bull-

“Maybe.” Her eyes widened comically. “I mean. Um. That’s all. Bye.”

She sped-walked out of the hall, and Thomas took a minute to gather himself before turning back to his laptop.

Sifting through his notes, he took extra time with Miss Sinclair and Mister Yamaguchi’s rubrics. They had both delivered impressive projects, ambitious if a bit contrived, but if her reaction was anything to go by, Miss Schuyler had something to do with their sudden fascinations in suits and musical theatre.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

He can’t leave. He just can’t.

Margot had been standing in the main building of the university with her friends, rehashing Lisa’s surprise operatic performance as well as her own avant-garde film she directed, when she saw him hurrying towards a clearly marked administrator’s office. Though his stride was purposeful, and he attracted attention wherever he went due to his being Thomas Hunt and all, something about him radiated the energy of a man who did not want to be seen.

Before knocking on the door, she watched the professor take a deep breath.

And then he stepped through the doorway and out of view, leaving her to draw her own conclusion.

“I hope we did enough to convince him to stay,” she said quietly.

Lisa placed a hand on her shoulder. “If my rendition of Pavarotti didn’t convince him, I doubt anything could.”

“He did like your film, Margot,” Addison said reassuringly. “He didn’t trash it or anything!”

“Sad how that’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Ethan lamented.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

The first class after the midterm project presentations was mostly silent. Thomas had planned it that way; after hearing some of the most illogical projects from this class, he wanted a break from them in a way that still kept them on track with the semester work. He was playing a series of short silent films on the projection screen while he finalized the midterm grades, and apart from some minor whispering – another thing he’ll temporarily turn a blind eye to, as he simply did not have the energy after faking so many recruitment meetings the past ten days – it was peaceful.

“Any word about Hunt’s job situation?”

Or not.

Before Miss Sinclair could reply, Thomas cleared his throat.

“Miss Schuyler. Care to share with the rest of us what you were about to ask Miss Sinclair?”

He’d never seen Miss Schuyler’s cheeks so red. They almost suited her, drawing attention to her high cheekbones-

Stop.

“Not with the rest of the class, no, Professor,” she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Then perhaps you will share it with me . . . after class. My office.”

She nodded, turning her attention back to her worksheets.

And, as he similarly went back to his own work, he fought to keep the grin off his face.

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“You wanted to see me?”

He leaned back in his chair, setting his arms on the structured arm rests of his chair. “I know what you and your friends have been doing. Don’t play dumb. Miss Sinclair designing suits, Mister Yamaguchi doing a musical, Miss Valentine singing opera.”

She winced. “I guess we were kinda obvious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Extremely obvious.”

“Did it work? Are you gonna stay?”

Was he imagining the eagerness in her voice? The hope that permeated those questions, as if she wanted him to remain at the university, to continue being her professor? He worried he was projecting, but there was something about the way she was looking at him that made him feel . . .

Made him feel.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

She shook her head hard enough that her earrings clacked against her neck. “No. No, I – don’t leave.” She caught herself and added, in a much less emotionally wrought voice, “In my opinion, anyway.”

He looked at her, taking in her slightly trembling hands.

She looked at him, noting the curiosity in his eyes.

Desperate to know what the other one was thinking, but afraid of what they might be thinking of, they stared for a long moment in silence, trying and failing to read each other simply from body language.

Finally, he said, “Then it’s a good thing I was never planning on leaving anyway.”

She let out a sigh – of relief? he wondered – and sunk into the chair opposite him. Instantly relaxing into his own seat, he watched her take a few calming breaths before looking back at him with a new question burning in her eyes.

“Wait, so if you were never planning to leave, then why did you meet with those admins from other schools?”

He smirked. “For leverage during salary negotiations, obviously. I only do it when I feel it’s necessary, and this past year has been quite trying, particularly due to some students.” He looked pointedly at her, and she feigned shock.

“Crash’s musical was ingenious,” she argued.

“Stan Lee’s estate is on its way with a lawsuit as we speak,” he said dryly. “Dr. Seuss could – and has – written better verses.”

“Those are fighting words, Professor.” Margot’s eyes twinkled. “Crash could write The Cat in the Hat, but Dr. Seuss could not write ‘Emerald Elf Hates His Emerald Self.’”

#thomas hunt #thomas orson hunt #only fools fall for you #hollywood u #fanfiction

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alllwritenow · 4 years ago

Text

Boom, Boom, Boom of Your Heart

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“Bonnie!” Elena exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her best friend and squeezing as tight as she could. “I missed you so much.”

Bonnie squeezed her right back, resting her head against Elena’s shoulder. “I missed you too. I am never going on tour again.”

Elena laughed and pulled back, studying her friend’s tired, but glowing, face for a moment. “I don’t believe that for a second, Bonnie Bennett. You cannot deny the masses the wisdom of modern witchcraft’s brightest star. Your instagram would riot.”

Her best friend made a face. “Yeah, well, the money’s nice, but if one more Karen treats me like her personal Tituba, I’m going to riot. Giving them tarot readings on instagram is a lot less work than pretending I care about their ‘traumatized auras’ in person.”

Letting out a cackle, Elena hugged her again. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re home. Caroline is just too high-energy to help me keep perspective.”

“I thought you had Lexi for that,” Bonnie teased, shooting a wink at the blonde who was carefully guarding their reunion scene in the middle of the airport.

Elena flapped her hands dismissively. “She’s too chill. I don’t think she understands the concept of stress.”

Lexi chuckled. “Trust me, Elena, I understand stress. But I’m definitely glad you’re back, Bonnie; I’m less likely to catch this one pacing at three in the morning and yelling at her laptop.”

Elena grimaced. “Sometimes the story won’t cooperate with me and I have to make it see things my way.”

Her best friend giggled, and looped her left arm through Elena’s, picking up her bag with her other hand. “I feel the same way about the tarot deck, except there is nothing I can do to make it see things my way. I don’t tell the Karens that though.”

“And that’s why you are the darling of the mystical-obsessed masses who have no idea how actually awesome you are.”

“Speaking of obsessed people,” Lexi said dryly, interrupting their moment. “Can we please get you out of the middle of a crowded airport? You’re supposed to meet Elijah back at the house to go over security there and show him the footage of the nights the notes were left.”

“Elijah?” Bonnie asked curiously, looking up at Elena as they started to walk toward the exit. “Who’s that?”

Elena scrunched her nose up. “He’s the security expert Lexi recommended, the one that will hopefully hunt down that asshole and get rid of them once and for all.” He was also incredibly handsome, charming, and made her stomach flutter when he said her name. It was very inconvenient.

“Good,” Bonnie said sharply, squeezing Elena’s arm with her own. “I want to see the sick fuck burn in whatever hell exists for putting you through this.”

“Me too,” Elena murmured. “Me too.”

“If anyone can do it, Elijah can,” Lexi told her in a reassuring tone, though her eyes never stopped scanning the people around them. “He’s relentless and very good at his job. You’re in good hands.” She grinned. “I’m only worried you’ll replace me when he gets done.”

“Never,” Elena said with a renewed smile. “You’re family now and you’re stuck with us, high stress levels and all.”

Elena ran her hands through her hair, pulling it into a high ponytail she knew she’d end up taking down and redoing at least half a dozen times in the next hour. Now that she was actually doing something proactive about this damn stalker, she was restless and impatient and just wanted to get it done. She felt like she hadn’t had a life since that first note appeared on her doorstep, and she was tired of feeling suffocated in her own skin. No one had that right to take her sense of freedom and security away like this, to make her feel fear in her own home. She growled under her breath and then looked up in surprise when she heard an amused chuckle.

“Is this part of the creative process that Alexandra was telling me about?” Elijah Mikaelson asked her from where he loomed in her office doorway, his dark eyes glinting with amusement.

She chuckled ruefully and shook her head, already reaching up to fidget with her ponytail. “No, that’s part of the process I like to call ‘Imagining 1000 Ways for my Stalker to Die a Painful Death.’” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe Jenna will publish it if I pitch it right.”

Elijah smiled at her, a crooked thing that lifted only one side of his mouth. “I’d read it.”

Struck with the sudden urge to ask if he’s read any of her books, she bit down on it, not sure if she actually wanted the answer, and waved a hand in a general encompassing of her home office. “You wanted to walk through the house?”

He nodded, smile fading into a professional mien that was no less attractive but helpful for calming the roiling stew of her emotions. “Yes, and review your security footage for the twenty-four hours before and after each incident.”

Elena grimaced. “I hope you don’t want my company for the full watch, but you’re welcome to review it here or take copies with you. I still have a guest room available and you can use my office if needed.”

Lexi stayed with her, and had a room although she only used it when Caroline was on duty. Bonnie had moved in with her when all this started, moral support and a transition phase between the end of her last lease and her inevitable move-in with Vincent. Well, Elena thought it was inevitable, the two of them, while adorably in love, were agonizingly slow when it came to official relationship milestones. Not that Elena was going to complain about living with her best friend for as long as she could keep her.

Elena didn’t like being alone. And not just because of her stalker. Even as a child she’d hated being the only one in a room, always seeking out her parents, or Jeremy after his birth. Her early years had been plagued by nightmares whenever she had to sleep alone at night, although therapy and time had helped. But then her parents had died in high school and it all flared back up again. She’d put off college until Jeremy graduated, and gone to the same university he chose. Moving to California had only been partly about her career and living closer to Aunt Jenna, and more about following Bonnie, since Jeremy had gently but firmly made it clear that she couldn’t be his big sister shadow for the rest of his life.

Getting her own house had been one of the bravest things she’d ever done, and she deeply resented the stalker for stealing all her progress and pushing her into a life controlled by fear.

Elijah shook his head, bringing her out of her funk. “I won’t impose on you for that long, copies will be fine.”

Elena nodded and then pushed her chair back, finally standing up. “Well, let’s get the tour started.”

It didn’t take long, her house was nice, but far smaller than the colonial home she’d grown up in. Technically only one story, and only four bedrooms because she’d converted the attic into her room. While her books sold well, it was her and Jeremy’s inheritance that enabled her to be a homeowner at twenty-seven, particularly in the expensive suburb she called home, and she hadn’t had the desire for extravagance.

Elijah was professional throughout, kindly taking no notice of the mess her bed was in after the nightmares that had ruined her sleep. He seemed to approve of her security precautions and promised to have an update soon after she left him in Lexi’s hands for the security footage transfer and so the two old friends could catch up.

Leaving them to it, Elena wandered toward Bonnie’s room, relieved to see her door ajar in symbolic welcome. She sprawled onto her best friend’s bed, watching as Bonnie carefully unpacked all of her witchy tools.

“So he’s hot,” Bonnie said casually, not even looking in Elena’s direction as she sorted through a bag of crystals.

Elena flushed, rolling over on her back to stare at the ceiling rather than letting her best friend see by her expression how much she agreed. “And still in the house, so hush.”

Bonnie chuckled, not changing her volume at all. “I’m sure he’s aware of his attractiveness. You should ask him out.”

Reaching for a pillow, Elena blindly tossed it in Bonnie’s direction. “I should let him do his job and you should tell me when Vincent is coming over for your reunion so I can make sure my noise-cancelling headphones are charged.”

There was no audible answer, instead the pillow thwacked against her face and Elena spluttered, grabbing it in a defensive stance as she sat up, only to almost collide with Bonnie’s grinning mien.

“Those are the words of a cornered woman, Elena Gilbert. You think he’s hot, you think he’s capable, and he is literally your knight in shining suit right now. And I’m pretty sure private security doesn’t have ‘don’t date your client’ clauses like bodyguards.” Bonnie arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “And while I know you’ve had cause, it’s been like, two years since you last got laid which is just tragic.”

Elena buried her face in the pillow and groaned. Okay, yes, it had been a while, and Elijah Mikaelson was the first person in a long time to make her libido and her interest take notice. But clause or not, she thought it was a spectacularly bad idea to ask someone out you’d just hired to catch a stalker. Especially for some casual sex after what amounted to only three conversations.

“If you stop talking right now,” she told Bonnie, lifting her head back up. “I promise to ask him out after this is all over.”

Bonnie grinned and offered her a pinkie. “Deal.”

#vampire diaries #elena gilbert #elejah #fanfic #my fanfic #boom boom boom of your heart #rebloggable #bonnie bennett #bonnie/vincent #bonnie bennett x vincent griffith #elijah mikaelson

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jamielea81 · 5 years ago

Text

Text to Win

Description: When you transpose two digits of a telephone number, you end up with more than you bargained for.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: None really. Fluff and a tiny bit of angst.

It’s time for KMPQ’s text to win. And the question is ‘What’s the worst thing you can text someone after a first date?’ Text in your answer to 555-0243. We’ll pick a winner and those tickets are yours!

Having the radio on while you worked had become a habit. You played it softly through your laptop speaker much to your cubical neighbor Bernice’s disapproval. It wasn’t your fault, not really, you just couldn’t handle having earbuds in for more than a couple of hours.

“Oh crap! What did they say that number was?”

Bernice shrugged her shoulders, not even bothering to spare you a glance.

555-0243? No. 555-2043. Yeah, that’s it.

Entering the radio stations number on your phone, you submitted your answer.

“Could you pick me up some Imodium? I’ve got diarrhea AGAIN.”

Satisfied with your response, you went back to your report.

You had worked for Stark Industries for three years and you loved almost every minute of it. You started in the mailroom to get your foot in the door, but once your boss’ boss found out you had a degree in accounting, they moved you to that department. A year later you were moved to a specialized team that dealt with the expenses of the Avengers. It was an interesting job, and it was fun to guess what the food expenses would be each month. Your teammates placed bets each month regarding the total. Who ever had the worst guess bought donuts for the team. You haven’t had to buy any yet.

A couple of minutes later your phone chimed indicating you had a text message. The radio station was still on commercial break so you hoped it was them notifying that you had won.

KMPQ: I’m sorry, what now?

You frowned at your phone. That’s a weird way to reply.

Y/N: Does this mean I won?

KMPQ: What do you think you are winning?

I’m pretty sure I heard them say the number is 555-2043.

Y/N: Wait, is this not KMPQ Radio?

KMPQ:

I’m not sure what that means, but I’m pretty sure you have the wrong number.

You sighed out loud causing Bernice to spare you a glance. You scrunched your face and waved your hand to tell her it was fine.

The radio station had come back from commercial break announcing the winner. The winner’s reply had something to do with an STD. You rolled your eyes. They probably received a few replies regarding that topic. At least yours thought outside the box.

You slid your phone into your purse not wanting to think about how you texted a stranger that you needed diarrhea medication. You were positive a screen shot was entered on Twitter by now for all of humanity to see. You hoped they had the decency to blackout your phone number before they posted.

You were home and changed into your pajamas before you looked at your phone again. Surprisingly you had two new messages from the stranger.

Stranger: Do you really have diarrhea?

Stranger: My mother used to recommend plenty of fluids, bananas, rice, and applesauce to help with the symptoms.

Well, at least it was a helpful stranger.

Y/N: No, I don’t have diarrhea. I wrote it for a radio contest and I apparently had the wrong number. Sorry about that.

Y/N: And I’ll keep your mother’s cure in mind if the problem every arises.

You all of a sudden had a hankering for applesauce since your new stranger friend had mentioned it. Digging through your cupboards you found two snack pack cups. Finding a clean spoon in the sink, you made your way back to your couch. You clicked a picture of one of the cups and decided to text it.

Y/N: Since you mentioned it, applesauce sounds quite good right about now.

Stranger: I’m glad I could be of some assistance.

Stranger: You never did tell me what you were trying to win.

Y/N: Tickets to see the band Imagine Dragons next week.

Stranger: I’m not familiar with them. Are they any good?

Y/N: Yeah, they’ve got a lot of really great songs. You should look them up.

Y/N: What kind of music do you normally listen to?

Stranger: I like the oldies. Glenn Miller, Billie Holiday, Tommy Dorsey.

Tommy Dorsey? Was this someone’s grandparent you were texting with? If so, props to them for knowing how to text.

You didn’t really now how to respond. Deciding any response was better than no response.

Y/N: Cool

After about 20 minutes with no response, you figured your texting friend must have gotten bored with the conversation. Deciding to get ready for bed you set your alarm on your phone and placed it on your nightstand along with a glass of water. You brushed your teeth and applied your nightly moisturizer before laying down in your comfy bed.

Just a you were starting to doze off, your phone chimed with a text alert.

Stranger: I’m not old or anything.

Stranger: My friend Sam thought I should add that. I just like older music.

You laughed out loud to the response. You decided to have a little fun.

Y/N: What if I’m old? I feel offended.

Stranger: I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate being old is a bad thing. I actually think it’s a good thing.

You laughed again. Shaking your head at their response.

Y/N: I’m totally messing with you. I couldn’t resist. I’m 30.

Y/N: I’m Y/N by the way.

Exchanging first names can’t hurt.

Stranger: You had me going there. I’m Steve.

Y/N: Hi Steve. Glad to get a name from you, I had you in my phone as Stranger.

Steve: You don’t want to know what I had you in my phone as.

Y/N: Please don’t tell me you had it as Diarrhea.

Steve: Of course not. I had it as Imodium.

Y/N: Mortifying

Steve: Hey, it’s not so bad. Y/N is a lot prettier though.

Was he flirting with you?

Y/N: Why thank you. 😊

Y/N: I’m off to bed Steve. Good night.

Steve: Night Doll

Doll? You could get used to this flattery, even if it was from a stranger.

The next several days you and Steve texted quite frequently. Nothing too personal was shared. You mainly talked about what TV shows you were watching, what you had for dinner, and what crazy thing you saw on the subway that day.

Y/N: I swear Steve. The guy had a hug yellow snake around his neck! I don’t know how no one saw it until he was on the train.

Steve: Could it have been in his pants?

Y/N: Steve! No! I’m talking a 5 foot long snake. I know guys like to exaggerate about the size in their pants...

Steve: Doll…

Sometimes you wouldn’t hear from Steve for days. He told you he often worked on call and when he’s working, he can’t be on his phone. You understood, but it sure added an air of mystery. You thought he was a fireman which sent your imagination into overdrive. Picturing a buff Steve in his uniform, all sweaty…When you asked him about it, he told you he wasn’t a fireman, but didn’t extend beyond that.

About a month into your friendship you let it slip that you worked in Stark Tower. When you normally told people this, they would always ask if you knew any of the Avengers. Even though you technically worked with their expenses, you never met any of them. Steve had almost no reaction. You were relieved but also a little surprised.

It had been over a week since you received a text from Steve and you were starting to worry. He’d never been away for more than four days without sending you a text and here you were at seven. You worried that he was hurt and part of you was worried he got bored of you and decided to stop talking to you. There was no way to get a hold of him because you didn’t know any of his friends, you didn’t even know where he worked.

The next night, just before midnight, your phone rang startling you out of sleep. You reached for your phone, squinting your eyes to see the name on your caller id. Steve was calling you. In the three months you’d been texting, you’ve never talked on the phone.

“St-Steve?”

“Hi Doll.” His voice was rough and tired.

“Are you OK?”

“It was a hard week. I just really needed to hear your voice.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You sat up in bed, scooting yourself back so that you could rest your back against the headboard.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I really can’t. Could you just talk to me about your week? I just want to hear normal for a while.”

“I really wish you’d talk to me. I don’t know what you even do. It’s been eight days Steve and you call me after midnight. I’m relived but I’m also a little bit pissed.”

“Y/N.” You heard him let out a ragged breath. “Please, Doll. I promise to tell you soon. But for tonight, could you just tell me about your day?”

You licked your lips and nodded. Realizing he couldn’t see you, you quickly replied.

“Okay. So, today I had to bring donuts into work. I don’t think I ever told you, but I work in accounting. Boring, I know.”

He let out a chuckle and it was honestly the best sound you’ve heard in a long time.

“My team has a monthly bet about a certain account and I lost the bet this month so I had to buy the donuts. It was the first time I’ve lost in a year and a half, so I thought that was pretty good. Anyway, no one ever mentioned to me that Taylor was allergic to nuts. One of the donuts had chopped nuts on it, so Taylor like flipped out. It was pretty epic. She didn’t eat any of course, and I did apologize.”

He laughed again and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You have a really nice laugh Steve.”

“And you have a very beautiful voice Y/N.”

From that night on, Steve called you almost every day. Most days it was just for a minute or two because he really wanted to hear your voice. You enjoyed it as well.

By month four you were brave and sent Steve an unsolicited photo or yourself. It was a simple selfie of you with a nice smile. You were actually surprised he never asked for a picture.

Steve: You’re beautiful Doll. Far too pretty for me.

It made you blush but you were disappointed he never sent you one in return.

By five months you were anxious. When he wasn’t working, he was spending an hour on the phone with you at night before bed. He talked about his friends and the trouble they would get into, but he would always leave out details, like their names. He would talk about how traveling was lonely, but he would never specifically tell you where he had been. You respected his privacy, but you really wanted to know all of Steve.

Steve asked for other pictures of you. He told you he liked to sketch and he wanted to sketch you, but he needed additional angles. One night he sent you pictures of 4 sketches he had done of you and they were remarkable. For never seeing you in person, he was pretty spot on.

“My friends were giving me a hard time about the pretty girl in my drawings. I had to tell them how we met.”

“But did you tell them that we haven’t actually met?” You asked.

“Soon sweetheart. Soon.”

A week later, Steve called to say he had a job and would be gone for a while, but he didn’t know how long. You cried to him on the phone. The nightly conversations had become a habit you couldn’t live without.

“I promise to be safe. I’ll be back before you know it and you’ll be tired of me in no time.”

“That’ll never happen.” You said between sobs.

“Sweetheart, you’re breaking my heart. It’s going to be so hard for me too. I’ll try my best to be home as soon as I can. Okay?”

You let out a long breath trying to calm yourself down. “Okay. Bye Steve.”

Was it possible to love someone you’ve never met? Your heart was telling you yes.

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since you’ve heard Steve’s voice. Surprisingly you were spending more time with your co-workers. Bernice and you started having lunch together a week after Steve had gone on his work trip. She noticed you were down and you had the urge to talk to somebody. She didn’t know all the details, just that there was a man you had grown close to and he had an important job that he could keep him away for days or weeks with no communication. She said it sounded like a plot for a movie and you had to agree.

Steve had sent you a text early in the morning that he was back, but wouldn’t be available to talk until later in the day. You had made up your mind that you were going to meet him. It needed to happen. Even if he didn’t want anything more than friendship, you wanted to be able to see him in person. Watch movies together, listen to music together, talk about your days, but in person rather than on the phone.

You and Bernice were enjoying a late lunch in the lobby of the tower. She was going on about troubles with her landlord when you could have sworn you heard your name.

“Isn’t that Y/N!” You looked around, trying to see who was saying it. The lobby was pretty empty since it was almost two and most employees were done with their lunch by then.

“Why is the Falcon saying your name and pointing at you?” Bernice asked.

You looked over to where she was looking and sure enough the Falcon and Captain Rogers were looking at you. The Falcon even waved. Captain Rogers was saying something to him in a hushed voice that you couldn’t quite make out.

“I have no idea. I’ve never met them.” You shrugged your shoulders.

She pushed on your back, urging you to stand, so you did.

You took a couple of tentative steps toward the two of them. The Falcon had a bright smile on his face while Captain Rogers kept looking down.

“Um, hi.” You said.

The Falcon started to walk to you with Captain Rogers trailing behind. Once he was two feet in front of you, he spoke again. He stuck out his hand. “Hi Y/N, I’m Sam Wilson.”

You tentatively gave him your hand and shook his.

“I know. But. But how do you know who I am?” Eyebrows high with surprise.

Your hand was still in his and he gave an awkward chuckle. He released your hand and turned toward the Captain. When Captain Rogers said nothing and continued to look down, Sam nudged his shoulder hard with his own shoulder causing Captain Rogers to move closer to you by an inch or too. He looked up and gave you a bright smile which caused your face to heat up. Of course, you had seen pictures of the Captain and footage of him on TV, but you’ve never seen him in person. To put it simply, he took your breath away.

“Hi Doll. I’m Steve.”

You blinked a few times. Still not understanding why this awkward introduction between the three of you was taking place. But then you remembered something.

“Did you say doll?” You asked.

He nodded his head.

Your brow furrowed and you looked down. This can’t be.

“And you’re Steve?”

He nodded again.

“Nope. This can’t be happening. You are Captain Steve Rogers but you can’t be Steve. Nope.”

You turned back to Bernice whose mouth was wide open in shock, grabbed your lunch bag and proceeded to walk to the elevator to head back to your floor.

You heard Sam and Steve arguing behind you but you didn’t care. You heard shuffling of feet as you waited for the elevator, but that was Bernice who was out of breath apparently by the time she reached you. She started to ask about Steve to you but you raised your hand to her to silence her.

No sooner than when you were back at your desk did the text messages start rolling in from Steve. Or should you say Captain Steve Rogers?

Steve: Doll, please? Can we talk?

5 minutes later

Steve: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. I wanted to do it in person.

30 minutes later

Steve: I’m calling you.

Sure enough your phone rang and you immediately sent it to voicemail.

In all honesty you didn’t really know why you were mad. You felt more embarrassed than anything else. Embarrassed that you were kind of in a way ambushed. You didn’t like that Sam Wilson and your co-worker slash friend Bernice were there. You didn’t like how the whole interaction caught you off guard. You would have liked to have known that Steve was Steve Rogers before you met him.

Hours later you were at home with a glass of wine. Yes, it was Tuesday, but the wine was needed.

Your phone chimed with another message from Steve. You ignored it for a minute or two, but then found yourself opening the message.

Steve: Hi Doll. I think it’s time that we met.

You rolled your eyes and then typed out a response.

Y/N: Funny

Steve: I’m serious Y/N. I want to meet the woman who messaged me about diarrhea and captivated my heart.

You smiled and shook your head. It was a great reply, you had to give him that.

Y/N: I’m mad at you.

Steve: I know and I’m sorry for that.

You decided to give in. You really cared about Steve and wanted nothing more than to see him in person before you accidently met him this afternoon. This was just another part of Steve you would have to get to know.

Y/N: When and where?

It was Thursday night and you and Steve had been radio silent since Tuesday. You told him you wanted the space before the two of you met and he said he understood.

You stood in a coffee shop two blocks from the Tower. Since it was after six, the shop was only half filled with patrons, but you didn’t see Steve anywhere. Deciding to order yourself a drink while you waited, hot chocolate since you rarely drank caffeine at night. You found a small table in the back, figuring he’d like the privacy a little better.

You were early and you knew it, but you couldn’t help but check your phone every couple of minutes. What if he got called away on a mission? You hoped he would text you before leaving. Those worries were useless as Steve Rogers stood in front of you, two drinks in his hand. He was dressed in jeans, a navy t-shirt and a blue ballcap on his head. God he’s handsome.

“I bought you a drink, but I see you already have one. It’s hot chocolate because I know you don’t drink coffee at night.”

You smiled at him and nodded. He set both drinks on the table and stuck out his hand. You stood up and walked closer to him.

“Hi. I’m Steve.”

You put your hand in his.

“Hi. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

He held on to your hand, not releasing it after the initial shake. You smiled again and he licked at his bottom lip. His thumb started to caress your hand which instantly made your stomach flutter. Steve tugged you closer and pulled you into a hug. Your head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. You felt his breath on your neck and you smiled again.

“Yeah. It’s really great to finally meet you Doll.”

Tagging: @ly-cia @lookwhatyoumademequeue @humandasaster @joannie95 @xxloki81xx @thefandomzoneisdangerous @chita0027 @estillion14 @smoothdogsgirl @tessvillegas @xceafh @violetadefebrero

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #misdial #wrong number #marvel imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fan fiction #sam wilson #steve rogers x you

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tommyhardyx · 5 years ago

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Mr Solomons - Part 10

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Pairing: Modern!Alfie Solomons x Reader Word Count: 4.2k Summary: Alfie is still in a bad mood with his broken leg, and an old friend comes to visit. Warnings: swearing A/N: I’m so sorry this took me so long! I’ve been trying to figure out where to take this series and I think I’ve finally worked that out so hopefully it won’t take me too long to get the next chapters done now I know what’s happening. Also thank you to @acciostilinski for helping me write Tommy, making sure he’s not too nice.

With Alfie moving around easier on his crutches, and his breathing becoming easier as his ribs begin to heal you expected his mood to change. Hell, you figured the regular blowjobs you’ve been giving him would be enough to lift his spirits, but still he’s been in a bad mood.

He has his good days, sometimes only good hours, but more often than not he’s in a foul mood, his frown set deep on his face.

Some days he has Ollie pick him up and take him to the distillery, taking Cyril with him to keep him company. But most days he sits around the flat, watching TV or working on his laptop, his bad mood filling up the room.

Today is a day like that, with Alfie on the couch with Cyril while you sit at the table, with your laptop open in front of you, your fingers flying across the keyboard as you work on an article, for the first time in a while the words come so naturally to you, the narrative pouring out of you so easily.

Your fingers falter when you hear a knock on the door, the sudden sharp noise of it breaking you out of your flow of words.

“Can you get that for me love?” Alfie calls to you, and you sigh as your train of thought is broken and you get up to go open the front door.

A vaguely familiar looking man stands in the doorway when you open it, his suit more expensive than anything you own, piercing blue eyes assessing you as the corner of his mouth turns up slightly.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

As the man nods, you notice a bottle of what looks like whiskey in one hand, while his other rests in pocket and he glances over your shoulder into the flat behind you.

“I’m looking for Alfie. He home?”

His voice is what makes it click, his accent so distinct that you suddenly realise who you’re looking at. Tommy Shelby.

“Yeah he’s home,” you step aside, opening the door wide enough for him to step through. “He’s in a mood though.”

Tommy seems to be amused by this as he steps inside. . “I’ve dealt with his moods before. Tommy Shelby”

He says his name as if it should announce him, careful eyes watching your reaction as he gauges exactly what Alfie has told you about their friendship.

You nod, and introduce yourself, doing your best to be polite to a man with such an air about him.

There’s something about Tommy that makes you uneasy, maybe it’s the eyes that seem to be looking into your soul, or that he walks in as if he owns the place.

Alfie glances over the back of the couch as the two of you approach, genuine surprise on his face as he looks at Tommy.

“Tommy? What’re you doing here?”

Tommy places the bottle of whiskey which bares his own name on the table before coming over to sit in the armchair across from Alfie.

“I heard what happened, thought I’d come see how you’re doing,” he explains.

You fold your arms over your chest, feeling oddly uncomfortable in the place that has come to feel like home to you in recent weeks.

Alfie watches Tommy for a moment, eyes narrowed slightly in what looks like thought before he looks over at you.

“Can you give us a little privacy?”

Frowning, you watch as Tommy reaches into his pocket to retrieve a cigarette case and a lighter.

“Oh… uh, sure. I’ll just take Cyril for a walk,” you decide, not wanting Cyril to be around if Tommy is going to smoke.

“No worries love, see you in a little bit.”

Tommy nods at you as his way to say goodbye, and you give him the briefest of smiles as you clip Cyril’s leash onto him and leave the building, the dog brimming with excitement.

“So,” Tommy starts as soon as the door closes, running the tip of his cigarette over his lips, “That's the journalist aye?”

“Yeah mate, that’s the journalist. So, what’re you doing here Thomas?”

Tommy leans back in the armchair, crossing one leg over the other as he lights his cigarette.

“I heard about what happened and I was in London so I thought I’d come and see you. You look worse than I expected,” Tommy explains, a small smile on his face which could only come from years of comradery.

Alfie huffs a laugh, hand running through his beard as he moves his arm over the back of the couch.

“I heard it was Sabini who did it,” Tommy continues, flicking ash into a coffee cup sitting on the table “He’s been spinning yards, telling everyone he sent you to the hospital.”

This comment earns a snort from Alfie, the older man shaking his head slowly.

“He didn’t do anything, sent three other cunts to do it for him. Didn’t even bother to show his face,” Alfie says.

“And what do you plan to do about it? Or are you going to sit here feeling sorry for yourself until you get the plaster off your leg?”

Alfie bristles at the comment, before y/n he never would have hesitated to show Sabini what happens when you mess with Alfie Solomons, even if he was retaliating for Alfie making the first move. Now he hasn’t even considered it.

“Not feeling fucking sorry for myself mate, just biding my time alright?”

Tommy’s eyebrow quirks, the disbelief clear on his face.

“Is that right? Or is your relationship clouding your judgement?”

“Don’t fucking bring her into this Thomas, she’s got nothing to do with it.”

Tommy leans forward, putting out his cigarette in the coffee mug he’d been using as an ashtray.

“You asked her to leave, seems you haven’t been entirely honest with her,” he comments, watching the anger bloom on Alfie’s face. “A year ago, if I had said any of this to you you’d’ve pulled a gun on me, but I guess these days you’ve got your guns locked away far from the view of the journalist.”

Alfie’s hand curls into a fist on his thigh, his jaw clenching as he glares at his friend.

Seeming satisfied with himself, Tommy stands his hands returning to his pockets as he does.

“If you decide to stand up for yourself, give me a call, I’ll be in London until the end of the week.”

Alfie doesn’t say a word as he watches Tommy go, his hand slowly sinking beneath the couch cushion, fingers brushing against the metal of the handgun he’s had tucked away down there ever since the attack at the distillery.

When you step back through the door, the lingering scent of cigarette smoke is the only evidence that Tommy was here at all.

“He’s gone then?” you ask by way of greeting, letting Cyril off his leash so he can go join Alfie on the couch.

Alfie smiles briefly at his dog as Cyril settles his head on his lap, his fingers immediately moving to pat the dog’s head. You move across to the other side of the room, opening up the windows to let in fresh air to flush out the smell of smoke.

“Yeah love he’s gone,” he says, his body relaxing slightly.

You nod, sitting back at the table planning to get back to work on your article when Alfie glances over the back of the couch at you.

“Are you alright? Somethin’ seems off with you,” he points out.

Shaking your head, you stand up to grab your hoodie off the back of another chair, pulling it on.

“I’m fine, I just… something about Tommy made me uncomfortable,” you admit, the bad feeling that buried itself in your stomach when the man walked in like he owned the place still present.

Alfie nods, calling you over with a flick of his wrist. You come to stand behind the couch, and his hand finds your own holding it softly.

“Yeah he does that to people, don’t worry alright? You won’t have to see much of ‘im. He lives in Birmingham, just came by to see me while he was here,” he explains, his thumb brushing the back of your hand.

It’s the most affectionate he’s been with you for weeks without being in a bad mood, without it feeling forced, so you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face.

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

With only a week to go until the cast is supposed to come off, just seven days until freedom, you assumed Alfie would be in better spirits about everything but he’s still in a mood, still grouchy whenever you try to mention it.

After all this time he’s still unable to accept that he isn’t invincible, that what happened would happen to anyone.

Making your way into the coffee shop, you spot Hannah and Ollie immediately at a table near the back and smile when Hannah looks up and grins at you.

A waitress comes by to take your orders, and soon enough three cups of coffee sit before you on the table.

Hannah was the one who suggested to meet up for coffee, deciding that as Alfie’s three caretakers it was about time the three of you sat down without Mr Grumpy himself to chat. She pulls you in for a strong hug as you approach the table, as does Ollie before you settle into the empty chair left for you.

The conversation begins with no mention of Alfie, Hannah and Ollie checking in with how things are going at work. But, as expected, soon enough the conversation turns to the man you all have in common, and as you listen to Hannah talk, her true motive in inviting you here becomes clear, she wants to make sure he’s not chasing you away.

“Look, I know Alfie can be bloody miserable when he’s like this but really he means well,” she explains, sipping her iced coffee.

“Don’t sugar coat it Hannah, he’s been a prick to everyone since he got hurt, just don’t judge him entirely on how he is now compared to how he was before that, he’ll get over it eventually.” Ollie says.

“Will he? Because I’ve tried talking to him, tried telling him that what happened could have happened to anyone, but he’s so ashamed that it happened to him he just shuts down and refuses to talk to me,” you explain.

Ollie sighs, glancing at Hannah before turning back to you.

“Let me talk to him. He’s stubborn but he usually listens to me, I’ll talk to him about it,” Ollie offers. “If he doesn’t listen to me then Hannah can try.”

Hannah nods, her hand reaching across the table to settle on your own.

“He’ll listen to Ollie, really just come spend the day with me and Ollie can go over and talk to him,” she offers. “We can have a girls day and just not think about my grump of a brother for a little while.”

You smile softly, noting the comforting feeling of Hannah’s hand on yours.

“Yeah alright, that does sound good,” you decide.

Hannah beams, brushing a stray curl away from her face.

“Yay! We’ll have a great time while poor Ollie here has to go see Alf,” she says with a teasing grin at Ollie who just rolls his eyes.

“Lucky me.”

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

For the first time in a while the front door opens to reveal not y/n, but Ollie, six pack of beer in hand and as he steps inside, Alfie has a feeling this isn’t a friendly visit.

“Hey Alf,” Ollie calls as he shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the hook by the front door.

“How’s it going mate?” Alfie asks, watching his friend carefully as he runs his hand over Cyril’s head, the dog resting on his lap as he has taken to doing ever since Alfie got hurt.

“Alright, how’re you feeling? Getting around a lot easier these days,” he comments.

Ollie puts the beer in the fridge, grabbing one for each of them and handing one to Alfie before he sinks into the armchair across from the couch.

“Spit it out, you ain’t here to ask about me fuckin’ leg,” Alfie says as he cracks open his beer.

Sighing, the younger man takes a sip before he speaks having rehearsed exactly how to engage Alfie in this conversation on the way over, though he didn’t expect to have to get to it so soon.

“Right Alf I’m saying this because I’m your friend and y/n is too nice to say it, you’re being a fucking prick.”

Alfie blinks once, twice, three times as Ollie’s words sink in. Not one to often swear, or to say a bad word about anyone, Alfie knows that if Ollie is calling someone a prick, he means it.

And he’s not wrong, Alfie knows he’s being unfair especially to y/n when all she is doing is trying to help. But he can’t shake the feeling of shame he gets whenever glances at his cast, or feels the twinge in his chest from the pain of his healing ribs.

“Yeah,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face and up into his hair. “Yeah mate I know.”

“You’ve got a really great girl, don’t let her get away because your pride is hurt. We both know there’s nothing you could have done that night. Even you can’t fight off three guys,” Ollie says, his voice strong, but sympathetic.

Alfie allows a grin to slip onto his face, looking up at his friend who doesn’t often stand up to him like this.

“Look at you, come here to tell me off aye?”

Ollie rolls his eyes as he sips his beer, but Alfie just laughs as Ollie’s words roll through his head, the first real laugh coming from the man in quite a while.

“Ah fuck. Don’t know why she’s still ‘ere to be honest with ya, if I were her I’d have fucking run weeks ago,” he mutters, running his hand over his beard.

“Because she loves you, that’s why she hasn’t left,” Ollie offers, and Alfie just shakes his head.

“I’ve fucked up haven’t I?”

This time it’s Ollie’s turn to laugh as he looks at his oldest friend.

“Look, you’ve been a prick sure but that doesn’t mean you’ve ruined everything. Do something nice for her, surprise her with a nice dinner or something and apologise. She’ll forgive you because she wants to forgive you. And I know that because she told me that, we’ve been talking about you,” he adds with a grin.

Alfie just shakes his head, a hand rubbing through his beard. “I assume Hannah is behind that,” he says, and Ollie just shrugs.

“Who else would it be? You think y/n or I would do that? Of course it was Hannah. She cares about you Alf, she just wants to make sure you’re happy and without y/n you’re not as happy. She doesn’t want you to lose her. We don’t want you to lose her.”

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

Coming home from work a few days after seeing Ollie and Hannah and Ollie’s promise to talk to Alfie, you’re exhausted from a long day and ready to collapse into the couch with Cyril and forget about anything.

Of course you can’t do that, because you have the grump to look after. It’ll be hours until you get to sit down and relax. Well, at least that’s what you’re expecting.

Walking into Alfie’s place, you’re surprised to find a glass of wine on the coffee table, candles surrounding it as the only light in the room, with Alfie nowhere in sight.

“Alfie?” you call out, shrugging off your coat and drop your bag onto the armchair beside you.

“That’s for you,” Alfie’s voice comes out of nowhere, making you jump as you turn in the direction on his voice. “Dinner’s almost ready, so you just sit there and drink your wine until it’s ready.”

He moves steadily on the crutches these days, making his way towards you standing by the door leaning in to kiss you softly.

“What’s this for?” you ask.

He rests his crutches against the wall, his arms slipping around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like a cunt since this happened, I know I have. You’re tryin’ to fucking help me and I’m being a grumpy fuck all the time,” he says, his eyes focused on yours as he speaks.

Even though you know this is only happening as a consequence of Ollie having a talk with him, you can see the sincerity of his apology written all over his face. Gently, you press a kiss to his lips.

“Thank you for apologising,” you mutter, resting your forehead against his as you wrap your arms around his body. “I guess what Ollie said sank in huh?”

He smiles, reaching to press a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Usually does, he doesn’t often have a go at me so when he does I know it’s serious. But I am sorry y/n, you’ve pretty much been living here with me and I’ve been nothin’ but a grumpy prick the whole time.”

You smile moving your head to settle against his chest, his big arms holding you tight and comfortably against him.

“I love you y/n, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah Alf I know. I love you too.”

The two of you stay like that for a while, his arms feeling like home again after weeks of tension between the two of you.

Eventually he pulls away, a soft kiss pressed to your head as you whine at him pulling away.

“Gotta check on dinner love. Get comfy on the couch, drink your wine and just relax yeah?”

You nod, kicking off your shoes and giving him one last peck on the cheek before letting him go.

“I’m just going to change into something more comfortable first.”

After dinner, you and Alfie snuggle up on the couch, his arm around your shoulders as you rest your head on his chest, a movie of your choice playing on the TV in front of you while Cyril sleeps by your feet.

For the first time since Alfie got hurt, the first time since your trip away you finally feel like things are good again, finally feel that sense of comfort and warmth from being around him.

As your trip to Brighton comes back into your mind, you’re reminded of a particular conversation between the two of you.

“Alf, do you still want to get another dog?” you ask.

His eyebrows go up, a look of surprise on his face as if he entirely forgot he ever intended to get another dog.

“Yeah.... fuck I forgot we talked about that. After I get the cast off, there’s a dog shelter not far from ‘ere and we’ll go there and pick one out,” he decides, his eyes falling on Cyril who is asleep on the floor by Alfie’s feet.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say as you snuggle further into his side. “Thank you for tonight, this was really nice.”

Alfie smiles down at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Ollie’s the one you should be thanking, he suggested this. But you deserve it, I’ve been a cunt to you ever since I got hurt and you’ve done nothing but try and look after me. I’m sorry for making things so difficult for you.”

You smile, pressing your lips to the tip of his thumb.

“It’s alright Alfie really, you don’t have to keep apologising. Just as long as you don’t go right back to being a prick in the morning, consider yourself forgiven.”

He chuckles, his lips pressing against your forehead.

“I promise it won’t love.”

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

Watching Alfie as you make your way through the animal shelter, you smile at the sense of wonderment on his face. Ever since you reminded him about getting another dog Alfie’s been in a better mood than he has for weeks.

When he got the cast off you asked if that was what he was so happy about but no, while he was relieved not to need the crutches anymore the prospect of being able to do things entirely for himself again a definite mood booster, he was mostly excited to go look for another dog to join your little family.

“Aw love, look at this little one,” he says, squatting down in front of one of the cages. You move to stand by his side and your eyes spot a small grey pit bull puppy in the corner, chewing on a toy. “What’s a dog as young as you doin’ in a place like this huh?”

“She was brought in a few weeks ago, someone had hurt her. People are cruel to breeds like this one,” one of the workers overhears Alfie and fills him in, Alfie’s brow furrows at the mention of the puppy being hurt.

“Who the fuck hurts a dog this small that can’t even defend itself?” Alfie grumbles. He turns to the worker. “Can I hold her?”

She nods and unlocks the cage, giving Alfie the chance to reach in and carefully lift out the puppy, holding her against his chest.

“Hello little one,” he says, his voice unusually soft as he holds the dog up to his face.

The puppy leans in, tail wagging behind her, as she licks Alfie’s cheek earning a laugh from the man.

“I think she likes you Alfie,” you point out, smiling at the excited puppy in his hands.

The worker smiles at the sight of the big man playing with the usually shy puppy.

“She hasn’t been this open with anyone who has come in and looked at her. We’ve been calling her Blue but you can change her name if you decide to take her home,” she explains.

“Blue aye? I think that’s a good name for her,” Alfie says, gently scratching under the dog’s chin. “What do you think love? Think she’s the one for us?”

His inclusion of you in the decision is touching, bringing a smile to your face as you let Blue sniff your hand, smile growing when she gives your hand a little lick.

“I think she’s perfect,” you tell him. “I think Cyril will love her too.”

Alfie grins as Blue leans in to lick his face once again.

“We’ll take her.”

From the moment she first laid her eyes on Alfie, Blue loved him. As soon as you get her home, she doesn’t want to leave his side, only going near Cyril when Alfie carries her over to him giving them both a chance to sniff each other.

Alfie has to lead Blue around the place to prompt her into exploring the flat, eventually deciding to go off on her own, sniffing everything in sight as you and Alfie set up a bed for her. Cyril watches Blue carefully, following her at a distance as he makes his mind up on how he feels about the new addition to the family.

Now, as you and Alfie cuddle together on the couch little Blue sits on his lap, too busy trying to chew on his finger to pay any attention to any of the toys you had bought for her earlier that day.

“She really likes you,” you comment, smiling at the look of contentment on Alfie’s face as he plays with the puppy in his lap.

Alfie grins, laughing as Blue attempts to climb up his chest, settling down so her head rests below his chin.

“Think you’re right love,” he says, fingers gently patting the dog. “I like her too.”

His free hand settles on your knee, his fingers brushing against you as he looks from the dog on his chest to you.

“I’m glad to see you in a better mood Alf,” you admit, earning a grin from him.

“It’s nice to be in a good fucking mood again. I was bloody miserable all those weeks, and I know I was fucking miserable to be around. But now the leg is healed and my ribs are almost healed, I’m plannin’ on making it up to you for having to put up with me,” he says, a sly grin on his face.

You shake your head, leaning in to press your lips to his hand resting gently on his cheek.

“Oh you better be making it up to me. I had to put up with a lot from you,” you tease, his chuckle forcing your smile to grow.

Blue barks, sensing that she has lost yours and Alfie’s attention. You pull back, turning your attention back to her, and smiling as she tries to chew on Alfie’s beard.

“I don’t know how dogs seem to love you so much, I’ve never seen a dog around you that doesn’t love you immediately,” you tell him, fingers brushing against across Blue’s back.

Alfie grins at that, looking from Blue and back up to you.

“Guess I just know how to charm dogs,” he says with a wink.

Tags: @eap1935 / @coolmaybelateruniverse / @sandyddt / @inkeducatednnerdy / @ravendor28 / @thisisjeany / @overitall2018 / @outofbluecomesgreen / @mollybegger-blog / @bilesxbilinskixlahey / @elemph / @pointlessblogger99 / @marvelfangirl-x / @madbrilliant84 / @lotusbreathe / @justanothershelby

#Alfie Solomons x reader #Alfie Solomons imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #modern alfie

179 notes · View notes

connverse4life · 5 years ago

Text

Day 1: Dance

May I Have This Dance?

Inspired by the Steven Corruption Theory

Summary: Connie intends on taking Steven to Prom but things don't go as planned.

Disaster always strikes at dances. It's literary law!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757320/chapters/54377215

Read on Archive or after the break

Possible Trigger Warning: Slight implications of body horror but nothing extreme

Connie milled about the room, periodically checking the time on her phone as her heart raced. 6:47, only 13 minutes remaining. She fisted her hands in the creases of her taffeta skirt to keep them from shaking, and lazily twirled it around her legs. Her parents were standing at the bottom of the stairwell with the camera, also anticipating the night’s events. She had once tried to go down there with the intent of waiting by the front door, but the constant questions and flashing of the lens convinced her to stay upstairs.

Even still, she couldn’t understand why she was so nervous. After all, it was just a dance and she was never super fond of those anyway. The crowded rooms combined with blaring music and screaming teenagers always gave her a tinge of anxiety. Not to mention the whole idea of buying an overly - expensive dress you were only going to wear once and bopping to cheap pop songs late into the night seemed wasteful and unsatisfying. This is why she usually spent those nights at home, catching up on her favorite book series or scrolling through fan blogs on her laptop. It was always more enjoyable and she didn't have to worry about pointless things such as small talk.

But for some reason, the Prom was different. She’d been fantasizing this night ever since she was nine years old and came upon one of those classic teen rom-coms where the two main characters meet at a school dance. Why even her parents went to their senior prom together.

And although she was well aware that having a perfect fairytale evening with the boy of her dreams wasn’t very logical, she couldn't help but find the whole idea rather enticing.

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

Only a few weeks ago, she had been standing by the lockers, reading the posters on the billboard. The theme as cliche as it sounded was "Under the Stars" and she’d be lying if she didn’t get some kind of joy from the apropos title. After all, most of their adventures revolved around exploring the star system together, rocketing the night in alien spaceships and enjoying that rare form of natural beauty that one could only see once they broke the atmosphere.

Being one of the few intellectual and physically active girls in her grade, she had received constant invitations. Every guy from the classic shy nerd to the handsome jock from the football team asked her but she turned them all down. If she was going to give up one of her free nights to socialize with a bunch of peers she had barely any connection with, then there was only one person she was set on bringing.

“What’s Prom?” Steven asked, eyes shining with curiosity and wonder. He and Connie were having a casual conversation about life and the night of prom somehow conveniently slipped in there.

Connie tugged at a loose strand behind her ear and twirled it around her finger. “Oh it’s just this big dance at the end of the year,” she replied nonchalantly as if she hadn’t spent the past hour screaming in her head whether or not to ask him. “It’s kinda like a final celebration where everyone can hang out before graduation.”

She saw his shoulders tense up at that word but they relaxed immediately after.

“Are you going?” He quickly inquired.

Yes! Absolutely! Please take me! “ Hmm, I don’t know. I'm considering it but I don’t really have anyone to go with.” She glanced up at him, biting her lower lip. “Um, would you like to come with me?”

She regretted the words as soon as she said them for Steven’s entire body went rigid. Immediately she started backpedaling in her mind, wondering how she could’ve worded things differently.

“O-only if you want to, of course. It’s just a dance, no big—”

“Okay!”

Her head flipped up, staring at the eighteen-year-old with wide eyes. “Really? You want to?”

“Yes, absolutely!” He cried.

She noticed a small twitch out of the corner of his eye and his smile felt uncharacteristically large, but she ignored it.

“I’ll bring Lion,” he continued. “And we can wear matching suits. Oh! And I know just the song they can play for us.”

Connie shook her head in disbelief. She hadn’t expected him to get so excited over this. Then again, this was Steven and it wasn’t uncommon for him to obsess over big, lavish events.

She squealed inside, her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. “Oh alright, that sounds great!” Before she knew it, she had leaped forward and hugged him around the neck. Their noses touched and a blush crawled up both their cheeks. She reared back as if the other was a snake and covered her bright red face, stuttering, “Um, p-pick me up at seven?”

He nodded with a mumbled reply.

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

And that’s where she was forty-five minutes to the dance, slung across her bedspread in a fit of giggles, waiting for his arrival. After dreaming of this night for so long, at last, it was here. Just she and her jambud enjoying the entire evening together.

Suddenly, a buzzing vibration filled the air and she whirled around to see her smartphone clattering against the wooden desk. She casually went to answer it assuming it was just Steven. Hehe, maybe he couldn’t get past the front door with her parents blocking it.

Smiling at that thought, she read the intercom. Pearl? Why would Pearl be calling? Now filled with a sudden rush of emotions, her hand trembled as she brought the phone to her ear.

“...H-Hello?”

“Co-onie!” Yep, it was Pearl alright. The reception was terrible but from the sound of the gem’s voice, it was clear they were panicking. The fact that she wasn’t speaking in her formal etiquette only deepened the upperclassman’s concern.

“Pearl, what’s wrong?!” Connie cried, nails digging into the plastic covering.

More static followed along with something animal sounding - like a roar.

“It’s St-ven! He’s chang-ing.” Changing? What did that mean?

Connie squeezed the cell tighter to her ear as if it would magically make the audio clearer. “What? What happened? Is he okay?” More growls followed as other gems were overheard crying and screaming in the background.

"No, we d’nt know. He jus… hap... ran - ly. Can’t m-ke... sto--op."

The sentences were jumbled and mostly incoherent. But the last word was spoken clear as day. Corruption.

She felt as if the floorboards crumbled beneath her as her stomach bottomed out. Immediately, she tore the gown from her body and threw it in a crumbled pile beside her bed before snatching her sword and dashing out of the room. The dance became a fleeting memory and fear for her friend was fueling all her energy.

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

It had taken most of the night but with the six of them working together, they had managed to calm Steven back down to his normal state. The poor boy had not stopped sobbing and was gripping the ends of Connie’s sleeves, soaking her shoulder with his tears. She ignored it though, and held him, rubbing smooth circles in the small of his back and whispering ounces of comfort. He kept apologizing for ruining the night but she shushed him. None of that mattered anymore.

Ten minutes later, once he finally settled down, he begged her to still let him take her to the dance. Connie immediately wanted to refute the idea, insisting he needed rest but she knew Steven would be guilt-ridden the entire night if they didn’t at least try.

So they arrived on Lion a quarter after midnight, Connie’s legs neatly slung over the beasts back with Steven holding her around the waist. His eyes were still puffy from crying and her attire looked as if it had been mauled by wild animals. The old jacket she wore was ragged and torn and her hiking boots were scuffed at the toes. And her hair, which was once curled and high above her head, now lay disheveled over her shoulders, but they were there nonetheless. Connie wore a corsage made of homegrown bluebells Steven planted and the hybrid had a few of the same flowers pinned to his shirt.

Carefully, Lion parked them in one of the empty spaces and lowered himself so Steven could slide off his back. "Shall we?” He offered in a sophisticated manner.

Connie smirked and grabbed the outstretched hand. "Ever the gentleman?"

He bowed as he led her inside. "Of course, milady."

The door was slightly ajar with a shed of light flowing in from the hallway, informing them that they would not be alone.

Hand in hand, they entered the dimly-lit ballroom, where the tables were already folded and most of the chairs were stacked up against the wall. Gold and silver star decorations hung from the ceiling and the room was covered in blinking string lights.

Steven approached one of the janitors who was pushing a heavy vacuum across the floor. “Um, excuse me,” he started, shuffling his feet. “Would it be alright if we hung out here for a while?"

The janitor looked the two of them over, taking in their nervous expressions, and gave a laxed shrug. "Sure kid, knock yourself out."

Widely grinning, Steven pulled Connie over to a table in the back that had been overlooked by the cleaning staff. It was covered by a shiny navy-blue tablecloth and sprinkled with gold glitter and foil paper stars. The centerpiece consisted of a folded napkin with white and blue flowers.

Steven took the seat beside Connie and she instinctively gripped his hands. She started up a conversation about the weird thing that happened with the girl's soccer team but noticed his gaze lingering to the far corner.

“I’ll be right back, he said quickly in the middle of her sentence, removing himself from the table. Connie's eyes followed him to the back where a short Asian woman was standing.

They started up a small conversation but it quickly spurred into a large one with her laughing and him in bright smiles. Although she knew she shouldn’t be, Connie couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy that arose at the interaction.

She wrung her fingers in the edge of the table cloth while she waited for him to return. In hindsight, it was only a couple of minutes at most but it felt like hours, similar to how she felt all those days when he was trapped on Homeworld. Not a word, not an ounce of assurance he was okay or that he was even alive. He was just gone.

And although they mutually agreed nothing like that would ever happen again, the thought had never left her mind. So it wasn't surprising how she collapsed to her knees when she found him like that. Curled in a ball, screaming, with jagged horns ripping from his letterman.

She could still recall it, the terror and shame in his eyes when she first stepped into the room. The pained cry that ripped from his throat while he panted and clawed desperately at the floor as his entire body betrayed him. Her pulse increased and all the blood rushed to her head. Too much! The image was too much!

..........................

"Here you are.”

A plate of Strawberry cheesecake with chocolate ganache was suddenly placed before her.

Exhaling slowly, Connie unfolded her hands from the fabric and placed them back over her lap.

“Where'd you get that?” She calmly questioned, trying to control her breathing.

“Had a chat with Nancy, one of the caterers. Apparently, they have a ton of leftovers in the back and said we could take one. You'd like her," he said with a smirk. "She’s in her fifth year studying astronomy, just like you."

Connie laughed and accepted the fork. “Steven Quartz Universe, is there a single person in this world you can’t make instant friends with?”

"Nope," he answered proudly, spooning a piece of the cake into his mouth.

Connie copied him and hummed with bliss as the creamy dessert melted on her tongue.

It took them no more than five minutes to lick the plate clean. Then Steven arose from the table and gently pulled her onto the dance floor.

"But there's no music," she commented.

"I'll take care of that," he said, pulling out his smartphone.

He cued up a playlist on Pandora and propped it on the table with the volume on the highest setting.

It was mostly drowned out by the roaring heater and vacuums in the background but the melody still ran through.

Memories of swaying on the beach and feeling a rush of euphoria played through the teenager's head at the familiar tune. She looked up at Steven with sparkling eyes. “Our song?”

He smiled instantly and twirled her in his arms. “I know it’s your favorite.”

“Why Mr. Universe,” she teased, stepping alongside him to the beat. “So forward.”

He picked her up, dipped her, and spun her again. Together they laughed and moved in tandem, him gently guiding her with his arms.

She saw the tight-lipped corners of his cheek turn up and instantly relaxed. It was much better than the earlier image of him hunched over, his body covered in jagged horns and scales, screaming in a high-pitch agonizing wail that was painful to bear witness too. But now he was here with her at the dance they both dreamed of and it felt safe.

Her fingers traced up his arm which was now smooth and soft, only leaving a few scars from the remnants of his transformation. She circled the tiny bumps and Steven caught wind of her fearful gaze.

He brought her chin up to his and gave one of his reassuring smiles that always calmed her nerves. "Don’t worry, Connie. I’m never going to turn into that awful thing again. I’m yours tonight.”

And she felt genuine comfort from that. For some reason, she could look directly into his eyes and know he wasn’t lying. Their faces leaned into each other, heat rising up her cheeks as Steven's lips brushed against hers. Then, without warning, she surged forward, deepening the kiss. Steven's eyes quickly flashed open but they slowly relaxed as he melted into her embrace.

The light from his gem glowed and their bodies became engulfed by the pink light. They expected some of the workers were probably stock still, staring at them with gaping mouths. But that didn’t matter now. They were finally together, free of judgment, free of fear. Just the two of them, alone on the dance floor. And that was all they needed.

#steven universe future #jam week #jambudweek #fanfic #my writing #connverse #finally done #this took me six days to edit #now it's 11pm and I need sleep

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sofhyuck · 6 years ago

Text

Teach or Be Taught

Genre: elementary school teacher!Jaehyun, elementary school teacher!reader, fluff, gender neutral

Word Count: 7.2k

Excerpt: “Here, you can lean on my shoulder. You have like forty-five minutes to take a nap.” He scoots a little closer, supplying you with the maximum amount of comfort he can. You thank him quietly, nuzzling into his side while leaning your head on his shoulder. Jaehyun looks down at you, admiring every eyelash, every freckle, every part of you his eyes can reach. He’s never been in love before, but he swears this is what it feels like.

Masterlist

A/N: I tried a different writing style (which is heavily inspired by @dreaminghaos hi i love your writing style sm I aspire to be like you) bc why not???

Day 1 [8:00 am]

First days are the epitome of all things anxiety inducing. Meeting new people, trying to make said new people like you, all while in a new environment: any anti-social person’s worst nightmare. Every first day of school nerves never failed to bubble up in your throat, palms growing sweaty from mild fear. And, right at this moment, you feel as though your heart is going to fall out of your ass. You know this is what you’ve been waiting for, spending years at uni to work yourself up to that coveted teaching certificate. Now, you have that certificate as well as a job to go with it. Speaking of which…

You’re stood in front of the entryway, wringing your hands together, unable to shake yourself free of your anxieties. The door opened, revealing a tall middle aged woman who beckons you over. Slowly you make your way over, wiping your dampened hands on the front of your pants.

“Are you the new second grade teacher?” She inquires, looking you over.

“Ah, yes. My name is Y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” You give her a small bow.

“You’re here bright and early, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll show you to your classroom!” She smiles brightly, holding the door open wider to usher you inside. “I’m Han Ana, Mrs. Han to the kids. I’ve been teaching the fourth grade here for about twenty years now.”

You balk at her revelation, feeling like a child next to her. She leads you through the halls, chatting happily about the school before stopping in front of a room.

“Here, room 202 is all yours. You can situate yourself for now, but there’s an all staff meeting in twenty before the kids get here. It’ll be in the staff lounge downstairs. If you need any help I’m right down the hall in 204!” She leaves you at your classroom and you make your way inside. It’s your typical classroom, small desks in rows with one larger sat in the front. You place your bag and laptop on the front desk and open the shades covering the windows. Sunlight bursts throughout the room as you make your way around, inspecting every inch while rearranging desks where needed.

[8:18 am]

You glance up at the clock, only to find that you have less than two minutes to make it to the staff meeting. You race out the door, nearly falling down the stairs before you finally make it to the lounge. Every pair of eyes is on you as soon as you enter and you flush, ducking your head and sitting down next to Ana at one of the many round tables placed precariously around the room.

The staff meeting doesn’t last very long and you’re left with a good half hour before you need to get back to your classroom. Unsure as to what you should do next, you glance nervously around the table you’re sat at. All the unfamiliar faces make your head spin, each of them in their own conversations. Just as you’re about to get up and leave, Ana perks up.

“Oh, right! This is our new teacher, Y/n! They’re taking over for Mr. Park.”

“Thank god, that old man was really getting on my nerves.” A voice pipes up from across the table, pulling laughter from your coworkers.

“You look rather young, Y/n, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-four. Just graduated a few months ago.” You flush as everyone gawks at you.

“Looks like you’re no longer our youngest teacher, Jaehyun. Think you’re ok with that?”

“I can live with it.” A deep voice chuckles a few seats away from you, and you turn to find the source. His eyes are already on yours and he greets you with a kind smile. “I’m Jung Jaehyun, previous youngest staff in the school. I’m also teaching the second grade.” You give him a soft smile in return, cheeks flushed slightly at his attention.

“It must be nice to finally have someone around your age, Jaehyun. I bet it can be tiring to hang around us old geezers all the time.” Ana pipes up.

“Ahhh, you guys aren’t so bad.” He teased, dimples poking at his cheeks. “But I’m excited to get to know our new addition.”

“We should probably head back to our classrooms. The kids should be arriving in about ten minutes now.” You stand up with everyone else, following them out the door. You feel a light nudge to your left, and turn to find Jaehyun walking beside you.

“What room are you in, newbie?”

“202. What about you?”

“Ah, damn I’m down here in 110. I was hoping we’d be on the same floor. Oh well, guess I’ll see you at lunch.” He grins before turning the corner, leaving you with a parting wave.

[11:50 am]

You’re exhausted yet probably the happiest you’ve ever been. Your students are absolutely adorable and seem to get along as well. The morning was filled with name games and little get-to-know-yous. Now, as you walk your students in a single file line to the cafeteria, you’re sure that you know all of their names by heart. They wave goodbye once they’re settled in the cafeteria and you make your way towards the staff lounge. Upon entering, you scan the room to find Jaehyun sat at a table in the center of the room. His gaze lifts from his lunchbox to rest on you and a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You give him a short wave, going to grab your lunch from the refrigerator before sitting beside him.

“How are your kids? Any trouble makers?” He probes once you’re comfortably seated.

“Oh, they’re all so wonderful! I can already tell this year is going to be amazing!”

“That’s great! I knew as soon as I saw you that your students would love you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You flush, feeling small under his gaze.

“I mean, you just have this air of comfort about you? Plus, the kids always take better to a pretty face.” Your blush only deepens and you laugh nervously, gaze shifting to your lunch.

“What about you, Jaehyun? How long have you been working here?”

“This is my fourth year.” He hums happily, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve never had any issues with my students, although I do get a few proposals every year.”

“I’m not surprised.” You laugh, shovelling rice into your mouth. Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at you, a smirk playing at his lips.

“I think you might give me some competition for most marriage proposals.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see. Although i’m not sure that’s a title we should fight for.”

“It’s nothing but a friendly competition, Y/n.” You shake your head, smiling slightly while packing up your lunch.

“I’ll see you later Jaehyun.”

“See ya!” He gives you a small nod, turning back to his lunch.

Day 6 [7:00 pm]

Jaehyun oftentimes wonders how and why he’s friends with the idiotic group of children he considers his closest friends. But now, sat on the floor of Doyoung’s nearly empty apartment with cookie crumbs covering the front of his shirt, he understands that he himself is one of those children.

“Hyung, I thought you were supposed to be mildly more responsible than the rest of us. It’s been like, what, a week since you moved in and you’re still not done unpacking?” Mark snickers from beside Jaehyun.

“Some of us have actual jobs that require them to be available most of the time, Mark.” Doyoung quips back, shoving the younger at the back of his head.

“Dude you can literally ask any of us for help, you know that right?” Johnny chimes in.

“Like I’d let any of you touch my belongings. Besides, you guys won’t know where to put anything.”

“Oh ye of little faith. Come on, why don’t we help right now!”

“Hold up.” Jaehyun sits straight up, brushing the crumbs from his shirt. “This is not what I agreed to! I’m exhausted from dealing with the kids all week, I don’t need any more exertion.”

Mumbles of agreement chime from around the room, Doyoung physically relaxing knowing that his belongings are no longer at risk of being tampered with; at least for now, that is. Jaehyun reaches for the pack of chocolate chip cookies in Sicheng’s grasp, nearly having to wrestle it out of his greedy hands. Sicheng finally releases the pack, causing Jaehyun to fall back on his ass earning a chorus of laughter from his friends.

“How are the kids this year anyways, Jae? Any wedding bells ringing?”

“Not yet, Tae.” He chuckles.

“Didn’t you mention that you were getting a new teacher?”

“Yea replacing that old asshole, right?”

“Ah, yea, they’re our new youngest staff member.” Jaehyun revealed.

“Ooooh are they cute?”

“They must be. Look! His ears are turning red!” The room once again erupts into laughter at the expense of Jaehyun. He looks around, gaze settling on a paper book that he then throws at whoever’s closest.

“Ow, c’mon man.” Yuta mumbles, rubbing his stomach.

“We’re just teasing you dude. I mean, it’s been like four years since you last dated someone, it’s about time you got back into the game.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes in response, digging through the nearly empty pack of cookies in hopes of distracting himself. So what if he had been single for awhile? What was it that people said, married to your job? In fact, his last relationship ended right after he got his current job, something about him constantly smelling like baby powder now. Since then, he hasn’t really bothered to start a new relationship. Out of the odd single mother or father, Jaehyun doesn’t really come across people his age. He traded that part of his life to be surrounded by seven to eight year old children instead.

“Do you have a picture of them?”

“Uh, maybe, hold on a sec.” Jaehyun opens his photo app only to be faced with the picture of you that he most definitely had not been smiling at on his way over to Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a picture of you when you were on recess duty together. The two of you had been stood talking to one another, both keeping an eye on the children, when one of your students had ran over and tugged lightly on the side of your pants. You had immediately knelt down to be eye level with the child, asking her what was wrong. Blushing, the girl brought out a flower from behind her back, holding it out to you. You smiled gratefully and reached out to take the gift from her small hands. Jaehyun couldn’t help himself and immediately pulled out his phone, snapping a quick picture before turning away, feigning innocence. You had caught him, of course, and immediately demanded he send the picture to you.

“Hmmm, yea they’re cute.” Mark’s voice sounds directly next to Jaehyun’s ear. The boy cranes his neck to look over the elder’s shoulder for a peak at his phone screen.

“Oi, back off.” Jaehyun nudges Mark, turning his phone to show the rest of the group the photo. They hum in approval, a few exchanging nods and giving Jaehyun a sly thumbs up. Jaehyun feels his ears burn and he quickly snatches his phone back.

“Have you made a move yet?”

“Knowing our Jaehyun he probably already has.”

“Leave me aloooone.” Jaehyun whines, fully prepared to throw another book at the group.

“Sorry Jae, it’s just so fun to see you ears turn red. It’s so rare that we get to see you all flustered.”

“You’re not helping Johnny.”

“I know.”

Jaehyun decides that he really needs new friends who aren’t mentally, or physically, seven years old.

Day 33 [10:00 am]

A knock sounds at your classroom door, causing you to halt your current lesson. Your students immediately begin tittering amongst each other as you walk over to open the door, revealing a bashful Jaehyun stood in your doorway. You can hear your students shuffling in their seats, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever is at the door.

“Hey Y/n, I was wondering if you had any extra white board markers? My last one just ran out in the middle of class and I’ve been meaning to buy new ones but I keep forgetting.”

“Sure, Jaehyun, give me a second.” Jaehyun follows you into your classroom, a chorus of “ooooh’s” from your students echoing around the room. You immediately shush them, flushing at their teasing. You reach into your desk drawer, pulling out a new marker and handing it to him.

“Thanks, Y/n.” He smiles, the classroom again bursting with teasing sounds and you usher Jaehyun out the door. It takes you almost five minutes to calm down the kids, although they continue to bring up Mr. Jung until the lunch bell rings. Once you drop the class off at the cafeteria, you heave a sigh of relief, happy to be free of their taunting. Jaehyun greets you in the staff’s lounge, sliding a rice cake over to you.

“What’s this for?”

“A little thank you for the new marker.”

“Ah really, it was no problem. But why didn’t you just go to someone on your floor.”

“Why, I wanted to visit you, of course! You’re worth the perilous trek.”

You roll your eyes. “Ah yes, the treacherous single flight of stairs, how brave of you.”

Jaehyun points his chopsticks at you, dropping a piece of chicken in the process. “Hey, you never know when you could trip and injure yourself. People fall and break their necks on those death traps all the time.”

“Lovely, Jaehyun. As if I wasn’t already afraid of falling down stairs.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall.” He grins, reaching over to pat you on the head. You swat away his hand, ready to reprimand him for messing up your hair when Ana pulls out the chair next to you, calling for both of your attention.

“What are you two lovebirds up to?”

“L-lovebirds?” You choke out, eyes widening at her question.

“Haven’t you heard, you two are the new hot couple of the school.” She giggles, taking a bite out of her egg sandwich. “Even the students are gossiping! My, it’s so exciting, we haven’t had a school couple since Suzy and Haseul left.”

“We - I mean we’re not a couple…”

“Oh but you will be soon, I call it.”

Jaehyun, noticing your discomfort, cuts her off. “C’mon Ana, give it a rest for now. We’re just trying to eat our lunch in peace.”

She raises her arms in surrender, returning her focus back to her sandwich, voicing her complaints to the room. “I swear, the school lunches just seem to be worsening every year, more and more parents are making lunches for their kids.”

“It’s not that bad, they’re still better than anything my school provided when I was a kid.”

“Hm, little baby Jaehyunie must’ve been so cute.” You tease, pinching his cheeks.

“Ay, come on now.” He whines, ears turning red at your ministrations.

“Well, I better head out now, you kids have fun.” Ana stands up, wiping the crumbs from her hands.

You both bid her farewell, Jaehyun’s fingers tapping a soft beat onto your wrist.

“I’m sorry if all that coupley stuff made you uncomfortable. We’re all kind of like a big family here so most of us are used to that kind of teasing. You’ll probably get used to it, but if you ever feel uncomfortable again just let me know, ok?” He gives you a warm smile, his hand now settled over top your own. You smile, thanking him in return.

[3:50 pm]

You’re sat in the entryway to the school, one of your students sat beside you. You’re attempting to distract her, but it’s been twenty minutes since her mother was meant to pick her up and you can tell that she’s growing nervous.

“Mommy’s running a little late, Bora, don’t worry.” You attempt to soothe her, patting her lightly on the head. “Here, I have some markers and paper, why don’t you draw me a picture of your family?” She smiles at your suggestion, nodding happily while reaching for the supplies. You ask her about each figure drawn, attempting to engage her and keep her attention off of her absent mother.

“What are you two still doing out here?” You look up to see Jaehyun stood over you, smiling down at the two of you.

“I’m drawing, Mr. Jung! Look, there’s me and my little brother and my mommy!”

“Wow, you’re quite the artist!” He crouches down in front of you, leaning on your knees to get a better view of her drawings.

“Thank you!” She giggles. “Teacher’s keeping me company while I wait for my mommy to come pick me up.”

“Oh, well that’s very kind of teacher!”

“Yea! Teacher’s the best!” Bora leans over to hug you tightly and you laugh, wrapping your arms around her.

“Yea, they really are.” Jaehyun gazes up at the two of you, completely enamored. Your eyes sparkle in the sunlight, happiness radiating off of you.

“Mr. Jung!” Bora cries, poking him in the cheek. Leaning in closer to Jaehyun, she beckons him in closer. He leans in and she cups her hands around her mouth. “Are you and teacher dating?” She questions in a poor attempt at a whisper.

“No, Bora, at least not yet.” He whispers.

“But I want to marry you Mr. Jung.” She pouts.

“Maybe in a few years, ok?’ He chuckles. He grins up at you slyly, holding up two fingers. His second confession.

“Bora, baby I am so sorry, traffic was terrible!” A young woman comes rushing over to you, immediately sweeping her child into her arms.

“That’s ok mommy! Teacher and Mr. Jung kept me company.”

Her mother turns to face you, relief evident on her face. “Thank you so much for taking care of Bora, and I’m sorry for being so late.”

“That’s ok!” You smiled. “Just give me a call next time, you should have my number.”

“Right, of course, again I’m so sorry. I’ll be on time from now on.”

“Have nice night, ma’am! Bora, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye teacher! Bye Mr. Jung!”

Jaehyun gets up from his spot on the ground to stand beside you, both of you waving goodbye to the little girl. He can’t help but to gaze at you, heart practically on his sleeve. The way you treat your students so kindly, always sure to show them affection all while keeping an appropriately firm hand.

“Looks like we can go home—”

“Do you want to get something for dinner—” You both speak at the same time, laughing following shortly after.

“Isn’t it too early for dinner?” You question, checking the time on your phone.

“Factor in travel time plus walking around a little, we’ll find a restaurant right before the dinner rush.” Figuring why not? you nod in agreement, heading back inside to gather your belongings.

[4:45 pm]

So, maybe it is still a little too early to have dinner. And by a little too early you mean almost a full hour before you normally would eat. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind, however, happily pulling you along the fairly empty streets. You look upon him fondly, following him wherever he goes. Not that you had much choice considering how firmly his hand grasps yours.

It’s inevitable, the way your heart flutters whenever his gaze locks with yours. Sure, the boys you had met in the past were attractive, but Jaehyun’s pure beauty is utterly incomparable. Not to mention his affinity with children and all around gentille manner. If you were being completely honest, Jaehyun is your ideal man, and he’s practically fallen right into your lap. Now if only you could act upon your feelings…

“How about chicken and beer?” Jaehyun suggests, stopping in front of a restaurant.

“Jae, it’s still so early, I’m barely hungry!”

“Fine, why don’t we get takeout instead and then head back to my apartment?”

“Hmmm, trying to get me all to yourself Mr. Jung?”

“Oh god Y/n, please don’t call me that.” He laughs, pulling you inside the restaurant. “Now come on, what do you want to order?”

[5:30 pm]

Jaehyun’s apartment is almost excruciatingly neat, something you honestly didn’t expect from the boy. His classroom is almost always in a state of disarray, a trait you had assumed translated over into his home life. Instead, you’re faced with pristine white walls, not a single book out of place, all stacked neatly on the shelves lining the walls. Your shoes are lined up in the entryway, inked drawings hanging around the apartment. You’re stood gazing at one of said drawings when Jaehyun comes to stand behind you after placing your food on the counter.

“These are all done by my friend Taeyong.” He hums, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“He’s quite talented, does he do commissions?”

“Oh definitely, I bet I could even get you a discount!”

You laugh, pulling him back over to the counter. He grabs some plates from his cabinets as you unload the chicken. Each plate is decorated with a floral design around the brim, a fact you’re sure to take note of. You take a bite of chicken, humming at the savory taste. Meanwhile, Jaehyun’s hands are getting sweaty. It has been so long since Jaehyun dated someone, let alone invited someone over to his apartment who wasn’t a part of his friend group. Especially someone he held such a strong attraction to. He found himself unable to meet your gaze, quite the 180 from his usually confident demeanor.

“Jaehyun, did you know that your ears turn red fairly easily?”

Jaehyun immediately drops his chopsticks, bringing his hands to cover his ears. Of course his ears are red, they always are around you. You laugh at his reaction, muttering a soft cute as you turn back to your chicken.

“I’m not cute,” he pouts, “I’m extremely handsome.”

“You can be both, Jae. In fact, you are.” Jaehyun’s hands are still over his ears, fully aware that they’ve only grown redder. “Eat your chicken, it’s gonna grow cold.”

Day 76 [8:30 am]

“Oh, Jaehyun! Just the teacher I’ve been looking for!” Jaehyun abruptly stops his conversation with one of the third grade teachers. He smiles, turning to face you.

“What’s up?”

“I’m trying to take the kids on a field trip to the science museum but the principal told me I need another teacher to come with me since I’m new. I was hoping you’d be ok with coming along. Our classes get along well too.”

Jaehyun thinks it’s rather odd that the principal is requiring you to bring another teacher along. He didn’t have to do that during his first year. He chooses to shrug it off for now, exchanging his confusion for relief. Thank god you were comfortable enough around him to ask for his help.

“I’d be glad to! I take my classes there every year anyways.”

“Oh, thank you so much, you’re a real lifesaver!”

“Of course, we can discuss the details later at lunch today, yea?

You give him a quick hug before dashing off to your classroom.

“Aren’t you guys dating yet?”

“Not yet.” Jaehyun smiles softly, gazing at your retreating figure.

Day 82 [8:30 am]

The students arrive half an hour earlier than usual so that they have enough time to explore the museum. You and Jaehyun are ushering your students onto the bus, chaperones already assigned and sat with their groups. The final student gets on the bus and you and Jaehyun follow. Considering that there are two classrooms plus chaperones on the bus, there are only two seats left, sat next to one another. Jaehyun allows you to sit first, giving you the window seat, and promptly plops himself down next to you.

He leans down to whisper in your ear. “I heard you got another confession yesterday. What does that make, five?”

“Are you still keeping track of that?” You snort. “I’m not even counting anymore.”

“Of course, I need to keep my status as most popular teacher!”

“Well if you must know, I’ve actually gotten six confessions.”

“I thought you stopped keeping track?” He pokes your side, teasing.

“You’re just jealous I have more confessions than you.” You huff.

“…maybe so.” Jaehyun sits back with a pout. “Just wait a few weeks, I’ll take you over.” He gazes over at you out of the corner of his eye, hoping to have pulled a reaction out of you. You’re already looking at him, smiling stupidly at his sulking figure. Jaehyun’s heart flutters, an almost foreign feeling after going so long without a relationship. If there’s one thing his friends are actually right about, it’s that he doesn’t get out enough. Whenever they ask him to hang out to drink, he opts to stay in, worried that one of his student’s parents might see him. Not an ideal situation, seeing your child’s teacher stumbling around in a drunken stupor. It had happened once during his first year of teaching, and Jaehyun is not about to let that happen again. Thus, he rarely has the ability to meet new people, let alone a potential lover. Then here comes you, the cute new teacher who steals his heart in less than five minutes. Damn his vulnerability.

[12:00 pm]

The students have congregated at the museum cafeteria, slightly exhausted from their morning spent running around the museum but still excited nonetheless. Jaehyun is sat next to you, both of your groups situated around the table. Happy chatter flits around the room, making it hard to hold a proper conversation. Jaehyun is forced to lean into your side so that you are able to hear one another, not that either of you mind. A light tug at the back of his shirt calls for Jaehyun to turn around, one of his students stood behind him.

“What’s up buddy?” He laughs lightly tickling the boy’s stomach. The boy giggles, breaking off into a long winded spiel about how exciting his day has been so far. Jaehyun diligently listens to every word, reacting when necessary and answering all of the boys questions to the best of his ability. You can’t help to gaze fondly at the two of them, heart fluttering at the sight (but then again, when doesn’t your heart flutter when Jaehyun is around).

“You’re my favorite teacher!” The boy finally states, hugging Jaehyun before skipping away. Jaehyun turns to you giving you a pointed look and a smirk.

“That does not count.” You state, rolling your eyes.

“Oh it totally does, this competition is for who’s the favorite teacher and he said I’m his favorite.”

“Yes but we’re only counting confessions.”

“Hey, we never made a rule like that.”

“Fine, I’ll count it. But only because you’ll still be behind me.”

“Only by one.” He teases, leaning over to snatch a piece of meat from your plate. You swat away his hand, Jaehyun laughing jovially in response.

[1:00 pm]

“All right kids, get back with your chaperones, we only have a few more hours left at the museum!” A chorus of groans sound throughout the museum cafeteria, your students not quite yet ready to leave. You round up your own group of kids, counting meticulously to make sure they’re all still present. The students are all fluttering about, fully energized from their lunch. A few have taken to hanging off your legs, giggling madly.

“How much sugar did you monkeys eat?” You laugh, leaning down to gently pry them off. “Come on, don’t you want to go back into the museum? We still haven’t gone to the weather room, I heard there’s a cool lightning exhibit.” Your students immediately let go of your legs, now wanting to explore the museum as soon as possible.

“Y/n!” You look up to see Jaehyun and his group of students coming towards you. “Heard you’re going to the weather room, we haven’t gone either and were hoping we could tag along.”

“I don’t know kids, do we want Mr. Jung to join us, I heard he’s a little smelly.”

“Hey! I am not smelly!”

Your students all giggle, taking great amusement in your back and forth.

“I think we should let them join, teacher! Mr. Jung is really handsome.” Bora sounds, a few of the other students in your group agreeing.

“Alright Mr. Jung, you can join our group but only because you’re so handsome.” You laugh, his ears reddening in embarrassment.

“Wow thank you guys so much.” He grins shyly. “Shall we go?”

You nod, gesturing for your students to follow close behind. Jaehyun sidles up to you, bumping your arm with his.

“Do you really think I’m smelly?” He whispers, half joking but also half worried you’ll say yes.

“Only a little,” you tease, “but, like, not in a bad way.”

“Ayyy, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, like, I guess…”

“I guess…” He repeats, egging you on.

“You smell nice.” You mumble, face flushed at your confession.

“Cute.” Jaehyun grins. “You smell nice too, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but thanks for the affirmation.”

You turn into the weather room, giving your students free reign to walk around while you keep a close eye on them. Jaehyun stations himself across the room so that you have the whole area covered, but that doesn’t keep him from shooting dumb faces at you from time to time.

“Teacher!” One of your students bounds up to you, beckoning for you to crouch down to his height.

“What’s up Taegeun?”

“Is Mr. Jung your boyfriend?” He asks shyly, fiddling with his hands.

“No, why do you ask?”

He perks up at your answer. “Good, because I want to be your boyfriend.” He states proudly, puffing out his chest.

“Hmmm, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

“That’s ok, I can wait.” He says, running back to his group of friends.

You stand back up and make eye contact with Jaehyun. You give him a smirk, holding up seven fingers. He glares back, shaking his head in mock anger at your popularity. You’ve stolen half the school’s hearts, including his own.

[2:35 pm]

The bus is waiting in front of the museum, a few students already sat on the vehicle. You’re standing by the doors, keeping count of the students entering the bus. Ticking off each student as they pass, you finally mark off the last one and make your way onto the bus. Jaehyun gestures for you to sit beside him, scooting over slightly to give you a little more room. You drop down into the seat, exhaustion radiating off of your slumped body.

“The kids tuckered you out, huh?”

“Mmm, just a little.” You hum, eyelids growing heavy.

“Here, you can lean on my shoulder. You have like forty-five minutes to take a nap.” He scoots a little closer, supplying you with the maximum amount of comfort he can. You thank him quietly, nuzzling into his side while leaning your head on his shoulder. Jaehyun looks down at you, admiring every eyelash, every freckle, every part of you his eyes can reach. He’s never been in love before, but he swears this is what it feels like.

Day 97 [9:00 pm]

Another Friday, and Jaehyun once again finds himself sat on Doyoung’s, now fully furnished, apartment. Even though there is a couch, Jaehyun arrived later than everyone else, thus he was left with the floor. His back is flush against the couch and Sicheng’s foot is currently kicking his head.

“Sicheng I’m going to kill you.” He snaps, reaching up to grab the boy’s foot.

“Only if you say you’ll go out with us tonight!”

“You know why I don’t want to!”

“Oh come on, Jae. It happened once years ago, what are the chances it’ll happen again?”

“Well that’s what I thought but look what happened.”

“Dude come on it’s been so long since you went out with us.” Johnny calls out, joining Sicheng in kicking the boy’s side. “Literally just come out with us this one night, we’ll never ask you again.”

Jaehyun hesitates.

“Look, if one of your parent’s sees you we’ll, I don’t know, we’ll pay for your dinner for a month.”

“Wait hold on we’re not agree—”

“Deal.” The thought of being seen by one of his student’s parents is terrifying, yes, but the thought of free dinner for a whole month far outways that potential embarrassment.

[10:00 pm]

Thankfully, his friends choose a more bar-like atmosphere instead of a full fledged club, knowing he probably wouldn’t be up for the high speed environment. There’s loud music playing, various games strewn around the building.

“We’re gonna head over to the pool table, you up for it?”

“I think I’m just gonna hang here for awhile, I’ll catch up with you later.”

A few of his friends head over to the pool table, leaving him at the bar. Jaehyun takes a sip of his drink, eyes scanning the room. He’s not really sure what he’s looking for; there’s not really much to find in the mass of sweaty bodies. His gaze travels to his friends making a bit of a scene by the pool table and he chuckles lowly, amused by their idiocy. He quickly looks away, however, because Ten is about to climb over the table, ready to grab Doyoung by the collar. Not a sight he wants to see. Scanning the room, he looks past the seating area, only to do a double take. There, sat on top of one of the many square tables, is a completely inebriated you, head thrown back in laughter at something your friend just said. The ends of his lips curl up in a smile and he observes your figure for a moment. Downing the rest of his drink, he places the empty glass on the bartop and stands to make his way over to you. Your friends must take notice of his towering figure because they all start frantically waving their arms at you, gesturing towards his approaching figure. You look up with a start and, upon seeing him, abruptly climb off the table. He rushes over to you, stabilizing your shaky figure.

“Mr. Jung, I did not expect to see you here. Like, never.” You giggled happily, poking his cheeks.

“Ah, Y/n, how much have you had to drink?”

“You know how many of the kids have confessed to me?” “Yea?”

“That many.”

“Holy shit.” He mumbled, studying your face. He turns to look at your friends who are all not so subtly checking him out. They turn away at his gaze, tittering amongst themselves before he calls for their attention. “Can I steal Y/n away from you guys?”

“Of course!” One of them giggles. “In fact you can steal me away too if you’d like.”

“Sorry, I only need Y/n.” He smiles kindly, already wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you away..

“Keep our baby safe!” They call after your retreating figures.

“Where are we going?” You mutter, clutching onto his bicep.

“We’re going to get some water into your system and then I’m taking you home.”

“Aw c’mon, you should have some fun! I know you haven’t been out since your first year. Have you even had something to drink yet?”

“I have and right now your safety is more important than me having fun.”

“Ayyy, I’m not gonna let you not have fun because of me. Are your friends here? Can I meet them?”

“Y/n I should really be getting you—”

“Ayo Jae, who’s the cutie?”

“Johnny you dumbass that’s that new teacher he’s been pining after.”

Before Jaehyun could steer you away from his rowdy group of friends you break out of his grasp, heading over to the pool table.

“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, jogging over to you. Yuta’s already got his arm around you, engaging you in an animate conversation about god knows what. He sighs heavily, pulling you from his friend’s grasp, much to Yuta’s protests.

“Come on let’s get you some water.”

“Jae you can leave ‘em with us while you get the water. We want to get to know your new coworker anyways.” Yuta says with a wink, pulling you back into his side. Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, Jaehyun hurries to get you a glass of water so that he could rescue you from his friends as soon as possible.

Through your haze you barely register the men surrounding you. They chat happily, asking you about work and, most importantly, your relationship with Jaehyun. You don’t take the questions particularly seriously, too drunk to actually pay attention to what they’re saying. An arm wraps around your waist and you turn your head slightly to find Jaehyun holding a glass of water out to you.

“Here, drink.” He commands softly, raising his eyebrows. You part your lips, too hazy to reach out and take the glass. Jaehyun rolls his eyes but brings the glass to your lips nonetheless. Slowly, he tilts it back, examining how your lips close around the rim as your eyes close. Your cheeks are rosy, this time not out of embarrassment, and your hair’s a bit of a mess. Still beautiful, though.

After a few sips your eyelids flutter open, signalling that you’ve had your fill. He lowers the glass, eyes locked, time at a standstill. Slowly, he raises his hand to run a thumb over your bottom lip, teasing at the plump flesh. Before either of you can make a move, Mark stumbles into Jaehyun, pushing him into you in the process. You giggle as Jaehyun attempts to steady you, glaring at the younger.

“Ok, time to get you home.” He says sternly, pulling you away from his friends.

“Ok.” You giggle, waving goodbye cutely. His friends all coo over you and Jaehyun has to keep himself from doing the same. Happy to have finally gotten you out of the vicinity of the bar, Jaehyun quickly hails a cab and pulls you in after him. You situate yourself as close to him as possible, snuggling into his warmth. You’re slightly more sober now although still a little hazy, and Jaehyun is like a walking space heater. A heavy sigh falls past his lips but he still wraps his arm around you, basking in the comfort you provide.

“You gotta wake up now Y/n. We’re at your place.”

You hum sleepily in response, clambering out of the car. Jaehyun practically has to carry you up to your apartment, making sure you drink more water and wash up before you flop onto your bed. Smiling fondly, he pats your head and leaves your apartment. He wonders if you’ll remember anything tomorrow morning.

Day 100 [3:20 pm]

“Ok kids, we’ll have reading time for the last ten minutes.” Your students all rush to pull out their books and you give out a small sigh of relief, happy that you’ll be able to relax. Before you can get too comfortable, however, a knock sounds at the door. Groaning under your breath you stand up to open it. You’re immediately faced with Jaehyun and his entire class.

“What’s this for?” You gasp, stepping back to let them in.

“Do you know how many days it’s been since you started working here?”

“No?”

“100!” He claps excitedly, grabbing a cake from one of his students, a big 100 written in frosting on top. Both your students and his cheer happily, mostly at the sight of the cake but also because of you, and you gladly take the cake, cheeks turning red.

“You have pretty poor timing, Jaehyun,” you whisper into his ear. “The kids have to leave soon and they’re not going to be happy once they find out they won’t get any cake.”

“I know, I was hoping it’d be a boost in my popularity.” He said with a wink.

“You’re the one who brought the cake, we’re both going down with this one.” You say pointedly, poking him in the chest.

Your students intermingle amongst themselves, books long forgotten in all the excitement. After a little chatting the bell rings and your students race out the door. Thankful that they weren’t too upset by the lack of cake, you make your way back to your room only to find Jaehyun already there, cake cut into slices. He holds a plate out to you, gesturing for you to sit on the desk beside him. Gratefully, you take the plate and sit down, digging into the cake.

“Oh my god this is delicious.” You moan, savoring in the taste of the fluffy dessert.

“Mmm, I know right? Paris Baguette really knows what they’re doing.” He hums happily in agreement. “You know, two of my students have confessed to me since the museum.”

“Damn, so we’re tied now huh.” You pout jokingly.

“You’re about to be winning again.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You question, turning to face him.

“I know this is supposed to be a competition and everything, but you’re probably going to win anyways—”

“Hey we’re tied right now—”

“Let me finish ok?” You shut up, letting him finish his mini speech. “As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” you roll your eyes at that, “We’re not going to be tied anymore because I’m going to confess to you. Or, well, I am confessing to you.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Oh come on Y/n, it’s obvious we like each other, the whole school has been waiting practically with baited breath for us to get together!”

“No I know all that. I’m just surprised that you’re confessing so early into the year! You were taking this competition so seriously I thought you’d make me be the one to do it.”

“I can’t believe you Y/n.” He scoffs, leaning back on his hands.

“What? A competition’s a competition. Oh well, looks like I’m winning again.” You shrug, turning back to your cake, a teasing grin stuck on your face. Jaehyun sits there for a minute, shocked at your confession. Once you finish your cake, however, Jaehyun gets a brilliant idea. A mischievous smile creeps across his face and you stare at him in mild fear.

“What exactly are you thinking of doi—” You get cut off by Jaehyun shoving the rest of the cake in your face.

“You’re dead Mr. Jung.” Wiping the cake off of your face, you move to wipe it all over his face. But, before you get the chance, Jaehyun places his lips over yours in a deep kiss. Your lips move together in harmony, the kiss slightly sticky from all the cake residue. Eventually, he pulls away, grinning at you with cake crumbs and frosting covering his lips.

“Sweet.” He chuckles, licking his lips. You grab his cheeks with your cake covered hands and smoosh them together.

“Yes,” you laugh, “very.”

#and with that i may never write again #nct #nct au #nct scenario #nct imagine #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun imagine #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun au #nct fluff #jaehyun fluff #nct teacher au #jaehyun teacher au

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incorrectsanders · 6 years ago

Text

No One Will Hurt You (Mall Employee AU)

Hello All! Logan is a protective baby and thinking about him taking care of everyone is too precious to process. Read other installments of the AU here Send in prompts and questions too!! I love hearing from you all :)

Relationship: Platonic Logan/Everyone

Genre: Hurt/Comfort kind of?

Summary: Logan is the biggest softie of them all. He just wants to protect and take care of everyone because that’s who he is. Every single one of them appreciates it.

Warnings: None

“NO!” Roman screeched, ripping off his headphones and slamming them down on the table. “Damnit, can you just work with me for once in your fu-“ “Woah- calm down, what’s wrong?” Virgil asked, leaning down next to Roman. Logan looked up from where he was cuddled into Patton’s side, a book open up in his lap. Roman’s 2009 MacBook was open on Logan and Patton’s dining room table, and the screen was blacked out.

The four were hanging out at Patton and Logan’s apartment. Virgil and Patton were studying, Logan was reading, and Roman was working on his channel. Roman had been grumbling at his computer the entire time, complaining about how it kept freezing and running slow and the program kept crashing. He couldn’t even use it unless it was plugged into his charger.

“The whole system crashed! I was editing for hours, it didn’t save and now it won’t turn back on!” And Logan kissed the peaceful afternoon goodbye. “Here, let me look at it.” He said, standing up and heading over to the table. He brushed a hand over Roman’s shoulders and ruffled his hair lightly before he took the computer and ran through the normal tests to try to turn it on. When it wouldn’t, he turned to Roman, who had frustrated tears in his eyes.

“It might be time for a new laptop, Princey. MacBooks aren’t built to last this long, even if you take really good care of it.” “I can’t afford a new one!” Roman whimpered. “They’re so expensive- And I need it for my channel and my auditions- can’t I just get it fixed?!” Logan sighed, shutting it and looking down at the small teen who was shaking now. He understood how stressed out Roman was. The second youngest member of their group didn’t live with his parents, he was only seventeen and paid rent, and he often spent his extra money on makeup, or concerts- things for his videos. Right now, everyone was in a good place except for Roman and Patton and Logan desperately wanted to take care of both of them. This month he’d covered Patton’s half of the rent “I’ll take it down to the store and run a diagnostic on it, see what I can do. Here.” He said, grabbing his own MacBook and setting it in front of Roman. “Use mine. I’ll be back soon.” Roman’s laptop was entirely done for. Logan didn’t even attempt to fix it, all he did was recover all the stored data on the laptop and transfer it to a new MacBook Pro. As much as he hated the fact that Roman didn’t even try to go to college, the boy was extremely smart. It had only been a few months since he started his channel and it was already growing pretty well. Giving him a new laptop would definitely help with that. Like Patton constantly said, Logan was a much bigger softie than he let on. Walking back in was a little overwhelming. He was immediately hit with the sound of crying and the sight of Roman curled up in Patton’s lap with his head in his shoulder. Virgil noticed him first. “He’s upset because your computer works so well. It only took him two hours to edit his video and it usually takes him seven.” He explained. “Ah… good thing he likes it, I wasn’t sure what I would have done with this if he didn’t.” Logan said, holding up the bag that held the laptop. Virgil brought his hands up to his temples. “You, Dad, and Remy, I swear.” Roman finally looked up, sniffling quietly and pouting. “Can you fix it?” He asked, seemingly oblivious to the conversation they just had “I can’t, no.” Logan said, heading over. Roman let out a lout whine and Logan just shushed him in response, handing him the bag. “But I got you this.” He said. Roman sniffled quietly, opening the bag and screeching when he saw an identical laptop to Logan’s. “Logan, I can’t-“ “I know you can’t afford it. Don’t worry about it.” “Logan-“ “I’m serious, Princey, you’re one of my best friends. Just let me take care of you.” Roman stared at him in shock for a minute, before he was letting out a loud cry and jumping out of Patton’s lap for favor of Logan’s. “Logan! I’ll never call you a nerd again! No- No, that’s a lie, but I love you so much! You didn’t have to- thank you, thank you, thank you!” He cried out, clinging to him. Logan was pretty sure Roman didn’t stop crying for a week. *** It wouldn’t be a surprise if Thomas broke down in some way. He’d been going through his paperwork constantly and Logan could see that it was stressing him out. He was adopting a sixteen year old, after all. That was hard… “What do you need me to do for you?” Logan asked as Virgil returned to work. The three of them had been in the back eating lunch together and Logan still had another five minutes before he had to go back. “What?” Thomas asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “You’re stressing over this, Thomas. You’ve been at this for seven months and you just want him in your house. All of us do. So what do you need me to do for you?” He asked. Thomas smiled. He was shocked, he’d only known Logan for about six months now but he was constantly helping out. He’d covered shifts multiple times, he’d done taxes for both him and Joan and Tayln. Patton, he’d expect that from but he’d figured out that anyone who was friends with Patton had just as big of a heart as he did. “I’m okay, Logan. Really, I’m meeting him for lunch tomorrow. If he agrees, he’ll be in my house in a few days.” He said. Logan breathed out a sigh of relief, then nodded. “Okay… but really, Thomas. There’s nothing you need? This whole thing has been so stressful for you, hasn’t it? Let me help.” He said. “If there's something I need, I’ll let you know.” Thomas said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “Get back to work. Oh! Actually, do you know how to build furniture? I bought this bed frame and dresser-“ “I’ll be at yours tonight to help.” Logan agreed, before he was heading out of the store without a word. Sure enough, Logan and Patton were there that night to help and they were armed with some tools and a lasagne and a pie. Logan was distracted upstairs with the furniture when Thomas and Patton went downstairs to get it warmed up. “This looks so good Pat, thanks for bringing it.” He smiled. “Oh! I didn’t make it. Logan made both.” Patton shrugged. “I was in class all day.” Thomas laughed lightly, shaking his head. “That boy really is just a big teddy bear, isn’t he?” “Have I ever told you how I met him?” Patton asked, a fond smile crossing his face. *** Virgil let out a frustrated groan as he tossed and turned in his bed. Thomas was on a business trip. It was three in the morning and he was extremely anxious, so no matter what he did he could not get himself to sleep. Being alone scared him, but there also wasn’t much that he could do about it. It was just anxiety. He’d been on and off his phone all night, but every time he put it down his anxiety would start flaring up, like now. His phone started ringing. “… Hello?” “Why are you still up?” Logan’s calm tone came through the phone “What- how do you know I’m up? “Your tumblr said you were online.” “Well… why are you up? You have no room to talk.” “Come open the door.” “… What?” “I’m downstairs. Come open the door.” Virgil frowned, getting up and heading downstairs. He peaked out the peephole and sure enough, Logan was standing there in sweats, a beanie, and a t-shirt. He opened it up. “L? What are you doing here?” “I wanted to check on you. I know you get anxious when you have to sleep alone.” Logan hummed, walking in and ushering Virgil away from the door. He closed and locked it, dropping his backpack by it before he turned back to Virgil. “Has your anxiety been bothering you? Have you had any attacks?” Virgil still wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was used to how protective Logan was. He’d only known him for four years now and he’d done so much for him and the rest of them. “A couple of small ones.” He admitted quietly. The older man nodded, placing a gentle hand on Virgil’s lower back and leading him upstairs. “Alright. Come on, let’s go lay down.” “Let’s?” “You’re having anxiety attacks. You need some rest, and I’m not gonna leave you alone.” “I’m not alone, Coon is here... somewhere.” He said softly, looking around for the cat. Where was she when he needed her? “It’s fine, Virgil. I want to be here with you.” Logan said. “If I can provide comfort then I’m happy to stay the night. I’ll stay over until Thomas comes back if you want.” Virgil paused. “Would you?” “Of course.” That night Virgil fell asleep on Logan’s chest as Logan read quietly to him and gently ran his nails up and down his back under his shirt. Every night after that was the same until Thomas got back five days later. The night Thomas got back, Virgil couldn’t sleep. So, he called Logan and Logan told him to wrap himself up in a warm blanket before he started reading to him over the phone. *** Joan was beyond stressed. That much was obvious. Between everything they and Tayln had going on neither of them had a time for a breath. Logan hated seeing it. They needed a break. “Alright.” He said, walking in and walking over to where Joan was frantically typing on their laptop. He closed it and they frowned, looking up. “Hey!” “You need a break.” Logan said. Joan’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t tell me when to take breaks, we’re partners. I decide when I take a break.” They said, their voice taking on a childish tone. “I can and I will. You’re not allowed back on this computer, in any of the stores, or in the Vet office for the next two weeks.” Logan said simply, pulling out a folder. “I already talked to Tayln. They agreed to give the rest of their appointments this week to Patton and they’re taking it off too. Everyone is ready to help out if they need to. You two are going to going on a trip to New York for two weeks. You have three Broadway shows to see.” He said sternly. Joan frowned, opening the folder. In it was two plane tickets, and six Broadway tickets along with a receipt that showed Logan had booked them two weeks in a five star hotel. “Logan-“ They started. “No! You’re going. You need a major break, Joan.” Joan smirked a bit, sitting back. “And what about you?” They asked. Logan mirrored their expression, holding up an identical folder. “Oh don’t think I don’t need one too. I finished everything that’s due in the next two weeks and I emailed all of our clients to let them know that we’re not accepting any projects until we get back. Thomas is going to monitor our emails until then. I’ve already talked to Emile, he’s giving Virgil two weeks off and his spring break starts in two days. I’m surprising my little starlight with a trip to London and I’m making him mine for good.” He said, pulling out a small velvet box. Joan jumped up. “Logan!” They laughed. “Buddy, I’m so happy for you!” Logan grinned sheepishly. “He still has to say yes…” “You two have been crazy about each other for eleven years. He’s going to say yes.” Joan grinned back, pulling Logan into a tight hug. "Alright, fine. Break time for both of us.” *** Logan rose an eyebrow as he walked into the back room of the jewelry store. Remy was screaming in Mandarin, he was pretty sure. It wasn’t until he knocked over a box of rings that Logan decided to step in. “Remy. Rem. Remy!” He shouted, grabbing Remy’s shoulder. He was met with a shout and a fist to his eye and yeah- maybe he shouldn’t have tried to intervene like that. “Ow…” He mumbled, his hand shooting up to grab his eye. “Merde! Bébé, Je suis tellement désolé!” Remy shouted, rushing over and grabbing Logan’s arm so he could check on his eye. “Are you... too angry for English right now, or?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow. Ow- Ow, no. That hurt. Don’t do that. “Sorry…” Remy mumbled. “Dee went on a date. He said it went really well and I just- I don’t know what to do about it. He said, walking over to the mini fridge and managing to find an ice pack. He wrapped it in his jacket and gently held it to Logan’s eye to make sure it didn’t swell. “Ow... just ask him out, Rem.” Logan offered, still wincing slightly from the pain. “I can’t- and you’re one to talk!” “Okay, Virgil is seven years younger than me!” “And Dee is six years younger than me, what’s your point?” Logan stopped, nodding a bit. “Touché” “Look- it’s just hard. He’s going to school and shit still, I own this place and I have to worry about it, what if I don’t have time to-“ Logan’s mouth fell open and Remy narrowed his eyes. “What?” “That’s how you have so much money!” “Shit-“ “You own the store!” He shouted. Remy sighed, then chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t tell any of them. I like keeping it a mystery, it’s fun.” “I won’t… are you okay though?” “I’ll be fine…” Remy sighed, leaning down to pick up Logan’s glasses off the ground. Thank god they weren’t cracked. “Wanna get something to eat and talk about it?” Logan asked. Remy paused for a second, then nodded. “Yeah… that would be nice.” He agreed. *** Seeing Patton hurt always made his heart ache. Patton was the first one who he ever got really close to besides his own parents. Logan never liked seeing anyone hurt, but when he was hurt Logan was hurt too. “Logi-Bear...” He whimpered. He was standing on his porch with a duffle bag over his shoulder and tears running down his cheeks. “What’s wrong, Small?” Logan asked, opening up the door and ushering Patton in. Luckily he was home for the weekend, he wouldn’t have wanted Patton to be upset alone or deal with this over the phone. Patton needed to be physically comforted. “My mom started screaming at me.” Patton sniffled, letting Logan usher him towards the couch. “She said she’s had enough of me messing around in cheer and she wants me to get more serious about school. She wants me to get into an Ivy League and she refuses to pay for school if I go with you…” Logan filled with rage. He pulled Patton into his arms and started rubbing his back, letting him cry into his shoulder. “Oh honey, what’s wrong?” He heard his mom coo. Logan looked up, seeing her kneeling in front of them. Logan’s parents adored Patton. They were very similar to him, loving and patient and supportive. Many times while he was growing up, Logan was stuck in the back seat of the car listening to them sing exciting, loud renditions of nursery rhymes. He'd whined for them to stop, but there was always a small, fond smile on his face. Patton’s dad was similar. He got along very well with Logan’s parents and the two had started to be a regular edition to their game nights and family dinners. But Patton's mom was cold, calculating. She was a CEO and accepted nothing but the best from Patton. Patton’s dad had left her when he was in sophomore year of high school, and the two of them shared custody. Sadly, Patton’s mom held the power because she was the one who had the money to pay for his school. Logan hated her. When they first met she was so judgmental towards him because he came over in his dirty baseball uniform. But then, she found out about all his achievements, including the fact that he was on track to being valedictorian of his class, and all of the sudden he was good enough for her son. At least she wasn’t homophobic. God, he didn’t think he’d be able to hold his tongue if she was homophobic on top of all of that. “My mom is making me quit cheer- and she won’t let me go to school with Logan!” Patton whined. Logan shook his head, squeezing him tightly. “No, you’re not quitting. If she wants to refuse to pay for your school, that’s fine. We’ll find you a scholarship for cheer just like the one I got for baseball. Cheer makes you happy, Small, you’re staying.” He said firmly. “And you’re coming to school with me. I know you don’t want to be alone.” His mom nodded along in agreement, taking Patton's hand and smiling. “We’re right behind you.” She smiled, then stood and pressed a kiss to both of their heads, her son and her ‘adopted’ son. “Why don’t you stay for dinner. I’ll make your favorite.” “I told Dad I’d go to his…” Patton sniffled, rubbing the tears from his eyes and lifting his head. “I’ll call him and invite him over!” She chirped happily as she headed into the kitchen. Logan smiled lightly, pressing his lips to Patton’s head. He loved his mom… “Don’t listen to her. She only sees one thing. All she cares about is how successful she is and that lost her the two best things she’d ever had.” Logan murmured. “You and your dad. You know your dad will be right behind you. You’re not like her, Small. You’re never gonna be like her.” He promised. Patton gave a little nod, snuggling closer and hiding his face in Logan’s chest. *** Logan was worried, to say the least. He always kept an eye on Dee, because he could tell that he needed guidance. He wasn’t exactly on the best terms with many people and he was scared that something would happen and undo all the progress that he made. They were hanging out at Dee’s apartment, waiting for the others to arrive, when Dee got the call. “Dad- no, I get it. Come on- I’m going to school! I’m doing what you want me to, what could I possibly- really? Really?! That’s it? That’s what it is? No- you know what, cut me off! Please! I’m begging you! I’m not going to lie to myself or anyone else. Yeah- that’s such a big loss. Tell Mom I said hi.” Logan sat up, frowning as Dee hung up the phone. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “My Dad is going to cut me off. He found out I’m with a guy.” Dee mumbled. Logan furrowed his eyebrows. He had so many questions- was Dee an inheritance baby? Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, that type? Was that how he could afford this apartment? “How did he find out?” “He saw the post that Patton put up with all of us. I was kissing...” “Oh...” Logan said slowly, and he started getting worried again. What if Dee held it against Patton. “It’s not his fault.” Dee shrugged. “I didn’t even think about it. And besides, I knew this would happen anyways. I’ve been saving all the money I’ve gotten from working for the past five years. I wasn’t paying for anything, he pays for the apartment and I have one of his credit cards for everything else.” He said. Logan nodded a bit. “Still, I’m sorry, Dee. Can I do anything for you?” “No... I don’t think so. I’m okay, Lo, really. I’m fine. I was never close to my parents, anyways.” “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. They’re supposed to love you and they’re cutting you off over something that you can’t control. It isn’t fair.” He said, holding out his arms. Dee gave a small smile, accepting the hug and into Logan’s shoulder. “Thank you...” He mumbled, as Logan rubbed his back lightly. “Of course. You’re part of our family, Dee. We take care of our family.” “Virgil’s right.” “Hmm?” “You really do have the biggest heart out of all of us.” Logan couldn’t stop the small smile that crossed his face.

#mall employee au #not incorrect quotes #sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #deciet sanders #deciet warning #sympathetic deceit #remy sanders #sleepciet #analogical #sleep/logic #platonic logicality #platonic logince #platonic analogical #thomas sanders au

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toddysdiaries · 6 years ago

Text

5,245 Miles - Natalie Mariduena x Reader

((GIF is not mine))

Pairing: Natalie Mariduena x Reader

Requested: Yes by an anon:

‘Hey ! can you do a Natalie x reader where the reader visits her family for a while and comes back to surprise Natalie cause she miss her so much ? Fluff ?! Love ❤️’

Summary: You go back to England to see your family and Natalie has to hold down the fort with David and the vlog squad. David tells you how much Natalie is missing you, so you go back to surprise her.

Words: 1,520 words

Warnings: girl/girl romance

A/N: Requests are open! NO MORE JEFF! I decided to make this a little bit angsty because otherwise, it would've been really short. ALSO, 5,245 miles is roughly the distance between L.A. and England, obviously it depends on where in England you are (and maybe where in L.A., I dunno how big L.A. is).

Giggling at something your brother said, you felt happy to be back in England. You hadn’t had a break from your YouTube channel events and the vlog squad craziness for almost seven months, and you were starting to go crazy. You hadn’t seen your family since Christmas, and you had only been able to stay for a week.

You had wanted to bring Natalie back to England with you this time, to meet your parents and so you could show her around your home town. Unfortunately, Natalie had had to stay, because David would fall apart without her for three weeks, especially if she was all the way in England with you.

Each night before you went to bed you’d FaceTiming Natalie, and you were texting whenever you could, but you still missed her. You found yourself wanting to include Natalie in everything you did. As you took a picture of your Indian food to post it to your Instagram, you felt slightly sad, the majority of the last years worth of photos was meals you’d had with Natalie.

You frowned at your phone, you had a missed call from David. Maybe something was wrong? “Guys I just need to call David, there might be something wrong with Natalie, he never calls me.”

Disappearing outside, you redialled David’s number and waited anxiously while the phone rang. You jumped slightly when the phone picked up. “David?”

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” David sounded a bit sheepish.

You chuckled slightly. “You are, but you never call, so it must be important?”

David took a deep breath. "Natalie is just really, really down, Y/N. She misses you so much."

You realised that it must've been really bad if David was actually calling you about it. "Really down? What's wrong? What's she doing?"

"She's not really doing anything, she's just moping around all the time." David sighed.

"I thought she could use this time to catch up with the rest of you, she usually spends all her time with me." You knew that Natalie had never really been that close to the other members of the vlog squad, she was mainly in it all for David, but she was friendly enough with all of them.

David hummed lightly. "I think that's the problem, she's gotten too used to being with you all the time."

You sighed, you knew that you and Natalie spent an awful lot of time together, but as you did YouTube and Natalie was David's assistant, neither of you had 9-5 jobs, so you had more time to see each other. “Well, do you think you could try and include her in whatever you’re doing?” You asked.

David sighed, you could hear a light scratching noise as David scratched the back of his neck, something he did when he was thinking or nervous. “I have, she made out like she was catching up on her shows and going to yoga classes.”

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your hand. “David she’s never been to yoga before in her life, and she’s caught up on her shows. Please, just try to get her to do stuff with you. Listen, I really need to get back to my dinner, but text me okay?”

There was a light noise as David switched his phone over to his other ear. “Yeah, have a good dinner, Y/N/N.”

“Thanks, David, bye.” Hanging up you ran back inside.

You bit down on your lip as you pulled up the Facetime app on your MacBook. You hadn’t realised how much Natalie missed you because you were so preoccupied spending time with your family.

You and Natalie Facetimed at around the same time every day, 10pm in English time and 2pm in Californian time. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the call button. Natalie picked up straight away, and her beautiful face came into your view.

For the first time since you had been away, you noticed the air of sadness around Natalie and the deep-set bags under her eyes. Natalie smiled brightly at the sight of you, but she still looked tired and upset. "Baby! Hi!"

"Hey, Nat, how are you? Have you been sleeping okay?" You tried to make it sound like a genuine question, rather than a worry.

Natalie's smile dimmed slightly. "I've been sleeping okay, just not as well as when you sleep with me. What about you? Is the jet lag better now?"

"Yeah, it's fine now, Nat. So, what have you been doing?" You raised your eyebrow at your girlfriend.

Natalie blanched. "Uh..."

"Natalie, I thought that this was going to be a good opportunity for you. I thought you were going to catch up with old friends and spend more time with the vlog squad. What's wrong, baby?"

Lower lip quivering, Natalie looked away from the screen. "I just miss you so much. I didn't realise that I was going to miss you this much. I really tried at first, I went to the movies and ate at that Mexican place that you hate but I love, and I spent some time with David. But I missed you the whole time, and now I hate that Mexican place too and I missed the way that you constantly tease David."

Your heart broke just a little. "Oh, Nat. Is there no way you could come out for a week?"

"I checked the flights already, they're really really expensive unless you have stopovers." Natalie's head fell into her hands, and you realised that you shouldn't have gone back home for a whole month.

"Nat, it's only two more weeks. We can do this." Your tone was soft, you hated to see your girlfriend like this.

Natalie sniffled slightly and nodded. "How's the editing going for your new video?"

You smiled slightly, you'd filmed a video with your parents to see which of them knew you better. "It's going well! I didn't realise how many faces my dad was pulling at the camera though!"

Natalie giggled, she knew your dad was a big joker, most dads were, but yours always tried extra hard to be funny. "You should leave some of them in, your viewers would find it funny."

Grinning, you nodded. "I definitely will, it's just a nightmare to edit!"

Humming, Natalie shrugged. "Why don't you send it to me? I need stuff to do, you could spend more time with your family, and I know how you edit."

You pursed your lips, Natalie had a point, it would give her something to do and let you spend more time with your family. "Are you sure, Nat?"

"Please, you'd be doing me a favour." Natalie smiled, and you realised it was the first real smile of the whole conversation.

You gave in. "If you're sure, that would be amazing."

"Okay, it'll be great!" Natalie beamed and then turned her gaze towards her door, you could just about hear David telling her that their food had gotten there. "Y/N/N, I've got to go, food is here, I love you!"

"I love you too, Nat. I'll talk to you tomorrow, bye!" You watched as Natalie waved cutely and then the screen went black.

You sighed and fell back on your bed. You grinned, you had the best girlfriend ever. Suddenly, you sat back up again, you had an idea.

Natalie laughed as David danced around to Rich Girl. The week had gone by so fast, she'd listened to your advice and ventured out of her room. She'd sit with David, and whoever else was there and edit your video, you weren't uploading it for another few days, so she'd taken it slowly and enjoyed her time with her friends.

David's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he stopped dancing to pull it out, grinning before pulling his camera out. "Natalie! I have a surprise for you! Lie down on the ground."

Rolling her eyes, Natalie complied, saving what she'd done to your video and setting her laptop on the coffee table. David put a blanket over her face and then Natalie could hear him leave the room.

The next thing that Natalie was aware of was a weight around her hips as you straddled her lower half.

"Close your eyes, Nat, I'm gonna take the blanket off, but keep your eyes closed." David was struggling to keep his giggles at bay, so you rolled your eyes at her.

Natalie laughed and nodded. "Okay!" Natalie felt the blanket pulled off of her face.

You smiled at David and then bent down to press a kiss against Natalie's lips. Natalie's eyes popped open and then widened dramatically. You pulled back.

Natalie squealed. "Y/N?!" Natalie leant up on her forearms, grinning. "What are you doing here?!"

"I missed my lovely, beautiful girlfriend, so I came home early. I had some flyer miles to use up." You smiled as your girlfriend beamed at you.

"I'm so happy to see you!" Natalie pulled you down to kiss her.

"Oh, wow, we're getting a free show."

You and Natalie sprung apart and glared at the new voice. "ZANE!"

#vlog squad imagine #vlog squad #Natalie mariduena x reader #Natalie mariduena imagine #natalie mariduena

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