#disclaimer: I’m not in school for business so if an MBA is not what one would typically get in that field forgive me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebiggerbear · 5 months ago

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"You're safe now. I'm here." - Russell Shaw Prompt Response Part 1

Summary: You've been taken hostage and Russell is part of the unit sent in to retrieve you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

A/N: This is a prompt from @sydnee-kom-spacekru that I had to turn into a two-parter because it got way too long for just one posting. I've been working on this since May 19th when I decided to add Russell to the multi-character prompt response project I'm currently working on.

For this story, I chose Colombia as the country featured in here because I remember when we were growing up, we would ask our parents why we couldn't visit our cousins from there, and we were told it was too dangerous. As we grew older, we obviously found out why. That's the only reason I chose it for that part of the story. Obviously, I'm not making any statements, political or otherwise, about Colombia or any past/present situation happening there.

A tiny disclaimer: I do not work in the medical field so I apologize for any inconsistencies, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. I did my best to research but ultimately, I'm not trained in that industry. I also am not in the military, political, or governmental fields. I also am not the CEO of a major corporation. I utilized those parts of the story strictly for fictional purposes. So I apologize in advance again if I get anything incorrect for those fields.

All unbeta'd.

Part 2

Warnings: graphic violence; attempted sexual assault; trauma; graphic blood/injury; gun violence/gunfire; mentions of dead bodies; death; mentions of execution; kidnapping/hostage situation; PTSD; angst

Word Count: 11k+

You can also read on AO3

“You’re safe now, I’m here.”

Soldier Boy version ✨ SDV Leah version

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

You slowly glanced around the room you were being held in. You winced when the pain in your head started up again from the movement. You knew you had some cuts on your face, your lip, and one near your hairline. One of the people who had taken you and your co-workers hostage had shouted at you in Spanish and worked you over a little. You understood most of what he had screamed but you had no answers for him.

You and your team had come down to visit the Bogota office upon the insistence of your father. The company his grandfather had started decades prior had expanded to become one of the top corporations in the United States, eventually branching out internationally. Growing up, you hadn’t wanted for anything. As you got older and entered high school, your father made it clear to you, being his only child, that he wanted you to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business one day. It wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of but it had been made known from the outset that whatever you might want would never matter in the scheme of things. Not when it came to the importance of legacy and carrying on the family name and the company’s brand, all while working closely with the Board. So, you had pursued your business degree in college at an Ivy League school, even going so far as to achieve your MBA and make your father proud.

You were quickly welcomed into the company and you put your nose to the grindstone, worked hard, and began to climb the corporate ladder. A lot of people knew that had to do with your last name but they also saw you working the same long hours as them, working just as much, and sacrificing any semblance of a personal life you could have had. You didn’t even have plants in your lavish city apartment because you were practically never there to water them. Weekends were a concept that ceased to exist the moment you left the university. If your co-workers worked 60-hour work weeks, you worked 80. If they worked through holidays like Memorial Day and July 4th, you worked those days, too, in addition to Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s. So you earned some respect, some envy, and some resentment — a healthy mix of it all as you raced to the top at your father’s constant prodding.

Only a year ago, you’d moved to Manhattan to run the New York office, a promotion that had your father beaming with pride. It was a bit of a transition, as any transition would be, but ultimately, you got to know your team, your department heads, and you’d settled in as best you could. You never truly relaxed into your role but you let your employees know up front that you were there to make things easier, not more difficult. You were interested in flooding the figurative harbor so everyone’s boats would rise, not just yours or the Board’s. Your father had not appreciated that little introductory speech you had made but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it. You had meant every word and you set out every single day to not only prove yourself but to also make that vision come true.

Which was partially what had brought you to the Bogota office. While you were responsible for New York, your father had made the valid point that you should travel to the international offices of Bogota, London, and Beijing. You should show your face and introduce yourself in person, not just on Zoom. You had been hesitant, not because you didn’t want to visit the sites and meet the crews, but because you still didn’t feel confident that you could afford to be away from your home office for that long (it would be about a two and a half week trip). Not because you didn’t trust your team to run things without you but because you had several projects in the works that required your constant participation, feedback, approval, and sometimes guidance. It felt strange to put it all at risk by choosing the most inopportune moment for you to go shake hands on the international stage and take tours of the other facilities. You didn’t want to leave your team in a lurch at a dire time such as this one. You had tried to explain all of this to your father when he grew irritated at your resistance.

“Stop with the excuses. You’re going and that’s final,” he had snapped at you before leaving your office. And that had been that.

The next morning, you and a few selected co-workers (handpicked by your father) were on a flight to Bogota, the first stop on your international tour. Thankfully, Colombia was only one hour behind New York so you’d be able to check in with your office as soon as you landed.

Things were going well with your visit, right up until the moment you and your team were leaving the building to head back to the hotel for a late lunch when you were ambushed. A black hood had been thrown over your head, you’d felt pain as something hit you from the side, and the next thing you knew, you woke up in a vehicle that you could feel and hear but not see. You had no idea what happened until you were instructed in Spanish to shut up, stay quiet and not struggle, and you wouldn’t get hurt. You knew you were in trouble when you came to but now you knew without a doubt as you listened to the conversation between the men surrounding you, you had been taken hostage.

You had no idea where they had brought you but you’d been there for what felt like a month though you couldn’t be sure. You had been held in the same room, only able to use the bathroom which they escorted you to. You were in some compound and any time you’d tried to sneak a peek out of an open window during your bathroom treks, you either got yelled at and hit or you could only make out a thick cover of trees. You and your group had been terrified every single day of your captivity that they would kill you all, or worse. You had three men in your group and four women including you. One of the kidnappers had already tried to take advantage of that fact and had thrown Meredith from Finance onto the floor, unbuckling his pants. You had begged in Spanish for her to be left alone while Pat and Suzanne had cried and screamed. Tim, Jerry, and Rob had all been taken to the bathroom beforehand (something that hadn’t happened before, they usually took the guys one at a time) so it had been just you four in the room. When the man didn’t show any signs of stopping and Meredith tearfully begged him from the floor to let her be, something switched off in your brain and you flew at him. You attempted to hit him anywhere you could but he knocked you down flat in seconds. He backhanded you a couple of times, making the women in the background scream louder, and he then decided you were going to be the one he was going to assault instead. He ripped your shirt and you tried to fight him off but he was too strong. Thankfully, another kidnapper heard all of the commotion and came running, rushing into the room and stopping the man, yelling at him that none of you were to be touched, that was part of the deal. Your would-be assailant yelled back at the man who had saved you and then got to his feet, spitting on you, as he stormed out of the room, followed by your unintentional savior.

You attempted to cover yourself with the shreds of your shirt but it was useless. You now only had a bra and little bits of cloth left from how violently he had torn the fabric. You were shaking but somehow you were able to crawl your way over to Meredith to check on her. Sobbing, she held onto you and before you knew it, Pat and Suzanne had rushed over, throwing their arms around you both, still crying themselves but also trying to speak reassurances to you both. Your body shook in their embrace as it finally hit you how close you had come to being assaulted. If that other man hadn’t interrupted when he did… You shuddered at the thought. It wasn’t long after that when Tim, Jerry, and Rob were returned to the room, their hoods removed, and one glance in your direction let them know immediately what had happened. Rob had actually removed his shirt and offered it to you, apologizing for the smell. You appreciated his selfless gesture but you were thankful when Tim instead offered up the windbreaker pullover he had been wearing the day you had been taken. You took the latter, thanking them both for their generosity and thoughtfulness. Tim at least still had his t-shirt.

Then, a couple of days later, you had been dragged from the room, thrust into a chair, and tied up. The questioning began, about the money from your company among other things, and you were worked over when they didn’t get the answers they wanted. You hadn’t noticed a man holding a smartphone while sitting in the corner, taking in every second of the torture you endured, until your interrogation ended. You had been afraid but seeing that phone…you were absolutely terrified. Were they going to kill you on video, sending it off to media outlets to share globally for your father to see? Or would they use social media?

They didn’t end up killing you, though. Instead, they brought you to a room with a single bed that you had never seen before. You did not like the fact that you had been separated from your group. You began to hyperventilate at the realization that they were isolating you for a purpose, thinking you would be attacked again, especially when you heard a loud gunshot reverberate from outside followed by yelling that you couldn’t quite make out. But instead of anyone coming to hurt you, they sent in a doctor to tend to your wounds. Once he had, you curled up into a ball and hugged your knees to your chest, waiting for the worst to happen, intent on fighting tooth and nail when the time came. But a few days later or however long it had been, they brought you back into the interrogation room again.

You expected the blows this time though they still hurt horribly. They began to cut you on your arms, near your neck, your shoulders, your torso…they never cut your face, though. While you were grateful for that small mercy, they still beat the hell out of you, the worst they ever had. While your face may have been spared the cutting, it was not spared the hits. You had even taken a couple of hard blows to the head that left you reeling. You didn’t even remember if you had screamed, cried, or begged for them to stop. Instead, you remembered some random saying in some movie you had seen stating that pain was the way you knew you were still alive. You held onto that as they continued to inflict as much damage as they could without actually killing you or making it impossible for you to speak. They had even unzipped Tim’s pullover at the beginning of the torture, leaving you in your bra, and besides the cuts they had also landed punches to your already severely bruised stomach and sides. They had even stomped on your bare feet, making you cry out as some of your toes broke from the force. They had even taken a bat to your right knee. That time you screamed the loudest you ever had in your life, sobbing so hard you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop. The pain was immense, something you hadn’t felt before, and tears poured down your face, mixing with the blood dripping from a busted lip and most likely broken nose. When they stopped to take a break, it didn’t surprise you in the least that the same man with the phone from last time was there in the same corner. It did surprise you, though, that they didn’t leave. While you figured they were just ramping up to go for a second round, something told you that you may not come out alive from this particular interrogation. You could only hope the others you had been brought here with somehow did. A small part of you wondered if the reason they were going harder on you this time, possibly about to kill you on video, is because your company didn’t pay the sum demanded in the last one. You knew your father must have done everything he could to secure your release, even if the Board for some reason hadn’t. You hadn’t prayed since you were a girl, right before your mother died, but you sent a silent one up anyway to anyone who might be listening that your father would never see this footage. It would destroy him if he did. You didn’t expect much, though. Your mom had still passed away from a terminal illness, so you were pretty sure your father wouldn’t be spared seeing your last moments like this.

But instead of starting back up again as you anticipated, the men ended up stepping outside of the room though they left the phone behind, on some sort of stand, still pointing in your direction.

So now here you were, your body exhausted yet radiating nothing but pain. You slowly swung your head around in a daze, blinking against the bright light they had turned on before leaving. You waited for them to come back, to finally do their worst and possibly end your life. You were terrified but you also knew how badly injured you were, that there was nothing you could do. Even if you could somehow get loose, how would you manage to escape? Even if you got outside, this compound was heavily patrolled by armed guards. And even if by some miracle you could get past them without being seen or an alarm being sounded when your absence was discovered, you had no idea where you were. You were in the jungle for Christ’s sake, from the brief glimpses you’d managed to catch on your bathroom runs. You had no idea where to go from here. Still, though, you heard that small voice inside your head, telling you to fight, not to give in or give up. You had to work hard, be the best, and prove yourself. Go, go, go. The voice sounded strangely like your father’s.

As you waited for your captors to come back, you glanced around the room to see if there was anything that could help you. You attempted to move your arms but gasped in pain when you did. You didn’t even try anything with your right leg. You knew your kneecap was broken; it had to be. You chanced moving your left leg, though, but it didn’t budge. You were stuck to this chair.

Suddenly, you heard the last thing you expected. Gunfire.

Not that gunfire was all that unusual around here. You had heard some happen during your captivity but it was short and never answered. You and your co-workers had no idea what went on in the rest of the compound but after hearing those rounds being fired every so often, you didn’t really want to know.

But these were extended rapid bursts of gunfire and someone was definitely shooting back. Not to mention all of the furious yelling you could hear down the hall. You idly wondered if one of your people got free and they were making a break for it. If it was, you hoped they got free and were able to go for help.

You knew you should be scared as the gunshots got closer to you, when you heard more yells and some thuds right outside your door, but you simply resigned yourself to your fate. Especially when one of the kidnappers burst into the room and held a gun to your head, yelling in Spanish at an unseen person to stay back or he would kill you. Your body began to shake uncontrollably once more, thinking this was it. You knew it; you were going to die.

Two men swept into the room, dressed in tactical-looking gear and donning black face masks with holes only for eyes and mouths, assault rifles pointed in your captor’s direction. The man on your right told him to let you go in Spanish or he would be dead before he could squeeze a round off.

The man on your left briefly glanced at you, his gaze an assessing one, before focusing back onto his target. Your captor screamed at them and pushed the gun into your temple, making you shake harder and take shallow breaths.

“You got him?” The man on the left asked, surprising you when you heard him speak English. He sounded…American.

“I got him,” the man on the right answered. Another American.

The kidnapper must have understood them because he gripped your head and pulled it back, pushing his gun now into the side of your face, making you scream out in pain. You heard a gunshot and suddenly the barrel against your cheek was gone as was the pressure around your head. A loud thud sounded as your captor’s body fell to the ground behind you and you moved your head to a position that didn’t hurt so much.

The two men were suddenly there, the one on the left laying a hand on your shoulder. “Please…don’t hurt me,” you begged in a raspy whisper. You followed it up with the same plea in Spanish, still not sure who you were exactly dealing with as your head swam.

“Hey,” the left soldier spoke softly. “Look at me.”

You did the best you could. It shocked you to see green eyes staring back at you with something that looked like kindness. Kindness…you hadn’t seen that in what felt like forever. Considering you’d only seen hatred and disgust from everyone around you since this whole ordeal started, this was something new and you held onto it with all of your might.

“We’re here to get you out. Just hold on.” He pulled out a switchblade and you immediately gasped and began to shake again. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just cutting the ropes,” he explained gently as he did it. “See?” You carefully moved your head to gaze down, seeing that he was indeed doing as he said.

Once you were free, you began to slide off of the chair, unable to sit up right due to your head still swimming. The movement caused you to cry out in pain from your injured knee being jostled when he caught you and lifted your arm around his shoulders to gently help you back into your original seated position. Your body still shaking, your brain told you that he was telling you the truth and he had just proved it, but you were still terrified and unsure of what to believe — no matter how kind his eyes were. “Shh, you’re safe now. I’m here and I’m going to get you out. I’m guessing they did a number on your legs?” He frowned down at your bloody feet.

“My knee,” you quietly sobbed, the pain still radiating throughout your right leg. “They—they broke it.”

“Shit,” he muttered, studying the leg you had glanced at.

In the background, you noticed the other man grab the smartphone and slip it into his pocket before heading back over in your direction. “What are we doing, man? Grab her and let’s go. Clock’s ticking.”

The man crouched in front of you looked up at the other one. “She can’t walk.” He inclined his head in the direction of your knee. “We’re going to have to carry her out.”

“Fucking hell,” the other one hissed. “Maybe we can get in touch with the chopper and get an evac.”

The man in front of you shook his head. “No, this is supposed to be a quick in and out. We have to get to the extraction point. They’re not coming for us.” So maybe these two were soldiers? They sounded like they might be military. Had your father somehow managed to get the government to send the US military in to rescue you?

“But, there’s no way we can—”

“No time for this, man. We’ve got to move now before reinforcements arrive.” Your rescuer turned back to you. “Alright, listen, I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell. I’m going to try my best to take it easy on you but we have to get you out of here now.”

You shook your head, causing tears to roll down your face. You wouldn’t admit it but you were as scared of the pain as you were to go out into the chaos you still heard happening outside of the room you were in.

He laid his hand on your shoulder again and locked gazes with you. “We have to do this. I told you before. I’m here to get you out and that means I’m not leaving without you.” He very gently rubbed at your shoulder in reassurance. “So, just try to relax and I’ll—” He carefully tried to slip his free hand underneath your legs and gingerly lift them but the movement caused you to scream in pain.

“Okay, okay,” your soldier soothed and backed off.

The other soldier was shaking his head. “We are so fucked.”

“Hey, we’re not.” Your guy turned to give him a sharp look. “Just give me a second with her.”

The other one let out an aggravated sigh and impatiently pointed to his watch before holding his rifle up and leaving the room.

Your soldier glanced back at you. “Okay. Time for some real talk. We’ve got about seventeen minutes to get to the extraction point which is out of this place and up the hill on the north side. Which would be, not exactly a cakewalk because it would still be tough, but if you were able to use your legs and we were running, we’d probably make it there in the next fifteen despite any resistance we might encounter. But, this is—”

“Going to slow you down,” you choked out. “I’m not going to make it.” More tears rolled down your cheeks, stinging when they came into contact with your injuries. If you had to be left behind, you knew you would die. No question about it.

“Hey,” he spoke softer than he had a moment ago. “I told you I’m not leaving here without you and I meant it. So don’t go thinking anything like that.” His eyes narrowed slightly as your head became too heavy to try to hold up. His hand was suddenly behind your neck, helping you, as he visually inspected one of the wounds at your hairline. “Dammit,” you heard him mutter. “Okay, I’m getting you out of here.”

He bent down to scoop you up but you grabbed onto his uniform, gripping a bit of the fabric in your fingers though it hurt to do so. He turned to look at you and you shook your head, whimpering. “Please,” you begged.

He reached up with a gloved hand and gently wiped under your eyes with his thumb. “I’m sorry but I have to. If I don’t…” He didn’t finish that sentence but he didn’t need to; the concern you saw in his green gaze said more than enough, and confirmed what he had already told you. “I know the pain is going to be a bitch and a half, but you’ve got to push through as best you can. I’ll carry you and get you to that chopper, I promise, but I need you to hold on. If you have to cry, scream, hell, even bite down on me, you do whatever you’ve got to do. But we’re doing this and we’re doing it now. You ready?”

“N-No.” Your voice wobbled a little bit but you heard him. You were going to try your best but you were still scared of the impending pain. “I’ll try.”

“Atta girl.” He gently positioned you as close to him as possible, zipping up the pullover that your captors had left open, and then carefully placed his free arm under your legs again. You got ready for the pain and whimpered again when he got ready to lift you. “I promise, after this, we’ll get that knee looked at, and that head injury, as soon as we get you someplace safe. Hey, look at me.” You struggled to meet his eyes but when you did, you saw the kindness from earlier staring back at you. “You’ve got this. You’ve made it this far and you’re going to make it all the way. I’m going to make sure you do.”

“Okay,” you whispered, afraid to speak any louder when the threat of the impending pain. Almost as if you spoke a half a decibel higher, you might make it hurt worse than it already was going to. It didn’t make sense but you weren’t exactly thinking straight right then.

You held onto the outer edge of his vest, wincing at the flare up of pain in your hand, as ready as you could possibly be in that moment.

He gave you another second, a brief respite from what was to come, and then a nod. “Alright, here we go.”

The man slowly lifted you and it hurt, sure, but what really hurt was when gravity did its work when he carefully got to his feet. You couldn’t help but cry out. You immediately stuck your thumb knuckle into your mouth and bit down, hoping this would all be over very soon.

The other soldier appeared in the doorway, having heard your cries. Your soldier took a few steps towards him, forcing you to bite harder into your skin and more tears to roll down your cheeks. “Let’s get moving. Call the bird and let them know we’re on our way.” The man nodded and turned, speaking to someone to let them know you were about to leave the compound and would need backup on the way.

When he turned around and gave you both a nod, your soldier held you a little closer to him. “You take point and lead us out. We’re good.” He then turned a reassuring smile on you. “Aren’t we?”

You wanted to answer him but you couldn’t. He hadn’t even started really moving yet and already the pain was agonizing. Instead, you carefully laid your head on his shoulder, feeling pure exhaustion wash over you that left an even foggier trace behind in your mind.

“Let’s do this.” Your soldier looked back towards the door and began to follow his fellow soldier out of the room. You gasped from the pain, bit into your flesh harder, and ignored the tears spilling onto your face. You weren’t going to be able to hold back the pained cries for long. You had no idea how you weren’t screaming at this point.

As you all turned down a hallway, you couldn’t help but think of the others and that provided a momentary distraction. “What about—my people?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“Already extracted,” he whispered. “Now it’s your turn, Y/N.”

You were still fighting your way through a misty fog of pain and sluggishness but that caught your attention. You released your thumb and stuttered out, “You know my name.”

“Of course I know your name. We came here for you.” He shot you a wink and then proceeded to carefully make his way down the stairs after the way forward was cleared.

You idly wondered about that as you held onto him, noting several dead bodies in your peripherals but refusing to look straight at them. You could hear him huffing and puffing next to you and you felt badly that he had to carry you because you were unable to walk. A couple of times, he had to stop and hunker down with you while the other soldier engaged the remaining kidnappers you came across. The third time, it was a struggle for you but you whispered, “Slowing you down. Not —gonna make it.”

“Shhh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got you,” he murmured back. And sure enough, once it was clear again, you were on the move. Before long, you had met up with more soldiers (the backup that must have been called for) and one of them offered to take you. You involuntarily tightened your grip on your rescuer’s vest and he shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Eventually, you made your way out onto the terrain and you could no longer hold back your pained cries. “Almost there,” he promised. After what felt like prolonged agony, you finally reached an area where a helicopter was indeed waiting. The sight of it made something that felt like relief loosen inside your chest. You were really going to make it out of here alive. Your soldier went to hand you off to another inside when your fingers tightened reflexively around him again. “It’s just for a second to let me get in,” he reassured you.

You nodded, hoping it wouldn’t hurt as bad as that run had, and let him go. Once you were all boarded onto the helicopter, you were moved around again until you were back in your soldier’s embrace, holding tightly onto him as the aircraft lifted into the air and headed away from the compound where more gunfire erupted.

You tried to ask him something but he couldn’t hear you so he ducked his head near yours. “Where are my people?” You asked as loudly as you could, taking every little bit of strength you had left. You were still under the fog, but you still noticed your co-workers weren’t in the helicopter with you.

He turned and placed his lips near your ear. “They’re in another chopper!” You had all made it safely out. Thank God.

You nodded and laid your head against his shoulder, completely spent and feeling the throbbing of pain in your body intensify, making you acutely aware of all the rest of your injuries. The pain radiated from your knee outwardly and now you could feel it in your torso, your arms, your head… Your eyes began to close of their own accord when he shook your shoulder a little. “I’m sure all you want to do right now is sleep but I need you to stay awake. At least until the docs get a good look at you!”

You blinked dazedly up at him. “I don’t think I can,” you mumbled, not even sure he heard you. The tide of pain was washing you under.

He then did the last thing you expected. He lifted his mask and you finally saw the man underneath, the owner of those green eyes that you had been holding onto during this entire ordeal.

“Man, what the hell are you doing?” You heard yelled nearby, but your soldier kept his eyes on yours.

“I need you to stay awake, Y/N! You think you can do that for me?”

You took in his features, your fingers carefully lifting up to touch the thick beard he sported, noting the dirt and grime smears all over his face, but his eyes were what captivated you. Now without the mask in the way, you were free to get lost in those green orbs as deeply as you dared. Too bad you couldn’t seem to stay conscious.

He shook you again. “Y/N! Hey! Stay awake!”

“Sorry,” you slurred before everything went black.

The next time you jerked into consciousness, screaming out in pain, the helicopter had just landed and your soldier, once again wearing his face mask, was yelling instructions to the men around him. You couldn’t hear exactly what they were, the pain was that intense. You were lifted out into another soldier’s arms and looking past him, you saw a second helicopter not that far away. You watched as your co-workers were ushered off of it alongside other masked soldiers but something didn’t seem right. You weren’t sure what it was but something was off to you.

You were placed into someone else’s arms and you saw the eyes of your rescuer once again, softening when he saw that you were crying.

“Something’s—wrong.”

“Stay with me this time, Y/N,” he urged as he hurried you away from the helicopter. “Help is just a few feet away! Only a little bit more to go.”

You tried to stay with him, you really did, but the tide of pain started to blanket you once again. Alongside it, the feeling of something’s wrong surged throughout your body before the darkness overtook you once more.

The next time you came to, you were on a gurney and bright lights were shining down on you. Doctors and nurses surrounded you, talking quickly in Spanish and calling out a few instructions. Your body began to involuntarily tremble again. Had your rescue been a dream? Had your kidnappers brought you to another part of the compound where they had an assembled medical team waiting to somehow keep you alive after they had unleashed such brutality on you? Or were you just dead?

You felt a warm hand in yours, a thumb stroking the top of yours reassuringly. You gingerly turned your head to find your soldier, still wearing his mask, standing right there, smiling down at you. “There you are. You had me worried for a second.”

Before you could ask him if he was real, if any of it was, a nurse started yelling at him, trying to get him to leave. He replied in perfect Spanish, telling her in a very resolved tone that he wasn’t leaving until he knew you were going to be okay. She let out a frustrated huff and shot him a glare before turning away to speak to the doctors. They insisted he had to go and once again, without your permission, you tightened your grip on him, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“No,” you rasped out. “Please let him stay. Please.” He was the only thing anchoring you in this moment. You got the distinct feeling that if you lost him, you’d be lost entirely, never to resurface. He was safety for you, an end to the horrific ordeal you had been through, and you didn’t want him to leave you.

A doctor leaned over you, speaking kindly in English. “It’s okay,” he spoke with a heavy accent. “We are going to make you better but he can’t be in here.”

You shook your head and grabbed at your soldier’s forearm with your free hand though it hurt like hell.

“Doc, can you give us a second?”

The doctor gave him a look but did as he asked, moving back over to his team.

The man next to you pulled a chair from out of nowhere and positioned it next to you. He took a seat and only when he had did you release him, wincing as you dropped your right hand next to you.

He smiled reassuringly down at you. “You’re going to be okay. They’re going to fix you right up. You’ve been through a lot but you’re going to be alright.”

You knew what he was doing; he was calming you down and saying goodbye. For some reason, that made you tear up. Even though you didn’t know this man, he had been your harbor of safety in a chaotic whirlwind, a beacon of hope to cling to in a truly terrifying situation you had found yourself in. When a tear rolled down your cheek, he wiped it away with his thumb. “Will you be here when I wake up?” You choked out.

“I’ll be here until you fall asleep.”

That set loose more tears and he made sure to catch every single one. In the meantime, the nurse came over and injected something into your IV. When you started feeling drowsy a minute or so later, it wasn’t hard to guess what was happening. “Will I ever see you again?” You frantically intertwined your fingers with his as you struggled to stay awake.

He leaned closer, smiling in the same reassurance his green eyes were trying to convey. “I’ll find you,” he murmured, gently squeezing your hand. That made even more tears fall. It surprised you when he moved in to whisper to you, “Get some rest, sweetheart. You’ve more than earned it.”

You wanted to stay awake; you fought it, not wanting to lose sight of those green eyes fixated on you, knowing they would be gone once you closed yours. But you lost that battle as a sea of sleepiness dragged you down with it. You held onto his words as your eyes finally shut from the weight of the drug and you could no longer see him or feel his hand in yours. “I’ll find you” reverberated through your mind as you sank deeper and deeper into oblivion, falling at a rapid rate from deep green into solid black, until you were completely engulfed by it and you were gone.

You briefly closed your eyes as you felt a cool breeze gently make its way past you. You watched as two orange leaves pirouetted in the air, spinning round and round, until they landed several feet away. Silent ripples danced along the water’s surface in front of you and you could hear the sounds of people milling about near you, talking, surrounded by a symphony of nature sounds mixed in with the faroff noises of city life. You couldn’t help but smile when you heard small children giggling as they played on the grass nearby with their parents watching over them. You watched as a small group of teenage girls walked past you, laughing as they reminisced over something that had happened the past weekend. You saw an old man on another bench further down the path, an open book in his hands.

These were the small peaceful moments that you had come to appreciate since you rejoined society a couple of months ago. These were the ones you held onto when the memories of the terror and pain all became a bit too much, that reminded you that you were back home, safe.

You watched as two moms in workout gear jogged by with their strollers. A man and woman coming from the opposite direction made their way around the two women and continued their trek, drinking from to-go cups and dressed in business casual attire. Sure enough, you could hear them discussing work-related topics as they passed you by. You smiled sadly as you watched them get further and further from your sight.

That had been you not that long ago, where you didn’t have a care in the world other than pushing out new product lines and being in charge of one of the main offices of the family business. The pressure had been near soul-crushing most of the time but you had adapted for the most part and rolled with it. You worked hard, you worked long hours, and you were alright with that. You took the stress of hectic deadlines and constantly putting out fires and you rolled with the punches. It became part of your make-up and it could only help fuel you even faster towards your goal — your father’s goal. Now, after what you’d been through, your outlook on it all had changed. What had felt like life and death matters in the corporate world before no longer felt as dire as it used to. You’d been in a literal life and death situation and lived to tell the tale; whatever came your way business wise you knew you could more than handle. There was something about being tortured and having a gun held to your head, convinced you were about to die, that just put things into perspective for you.

And though you survived, you didn’t actually get to tell your tale. The minute you were reunited with your father, while he had been grateful you were alive and kissed your forehead, it was made clear to you that you and the co-workers who had been in captivity with you were to sign NDA’s. That had completely floored you. That was the Board’s main concern? That the public might find out that some of its employees had been kidnapped, terrorized, and tortured? How were they going to explain your month long absence from the job, from your lives? You knew Meredith had a fiance, Pat was a grandmother, Rob had just gotten married weeks before this happened, and Tim had a wife and kids waiting back at home for him. Suzanne was dating someone in HR and you could have sworn you heard Jerry mention at some point that he had a dog to get back to, hoping his neighbor had either checked in on it or at least notified someone to do so. How in the world did the Board plan to explain away any of it?

Your father had let out an aggravated sigh as you fired question after question at him. Who had taken you? What had they wanted besides money? Why hadn’t the Board met their demands? Why had it taken them so long to get the government involved?

“They weren’t involved.”

Your eyes had widened in shock. “What? How?”

Your father had taken your hand in between his and stared into your eyes with meaning. “I’m only going to mention this once and then we’re never going to speak of it again. We hired someone to send in a team to get you out of there.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Hired someone? As in mercenaries?”

“Private contractors for security. They handle this type of situation quite frequently but they keep it all very hush hush. So that is why the Board is insisting on NDA’s for all of you. It’s not only to protect the brand but also to protect all of you.”

“Protect this organization they hired, you mean.”

Your father nodded, not looking troubled by your accusation in the least.

“I don’t understand, Dad. You have contacts in Defense. Why wouldn’t you call them?”

“We did. They recommended these people and said they were our best option. If we hired them, they could get in quickly and get you out. If we didn’t and chose to go through more official channels, it might prolong the process and that might be time that you didn’t have.”

You could see the wisdom in that advice he’d been given. They had been right; had they gotten there even just an hour later than they did, you might not be alive right now. “But a month, Dad? Why did they wait so long?”

Your father tightened his grip on your hand and you knew you weren’t going to like what he had to say next. “At first, we didn’t know who had taken you. When they made contact…the Board wanted to try negotiating with them first.”

You huffed out a breath in disbelief. Those sons of bitches…

“I pushed for them to do something more drastic but they fought me every step of the way. It wasn’t until they received that first video message that they finally agreed that I should make the call.”

So your father had fought for you, but to a point. That fact rolled around in your brain for a moment. Had your roles been reversed, you would have told the Board to go screw themselves and immediately contacted whoever could rescue your father as soon as possible. No amount of money, litigation threats, or risk to the business would have stopped you. You, his only child, his only surviving family member, had been in mortal danger, and he hadn’t done everything he could to secure your safe return home as soon as possible? It was hard to wrap your mind around that. Then his last words finally registered. “Wait, what video message?”

His blue eyes softened with sympathy then and you could swear you could see a little bit of pain beginning to cloud them. “Where you were tortured.”

You should have known. Why else would your kidnappers have filmed it? Truthfully, you had known it back when they were hurting you. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you also didn’t want to talk about it. “You mean the pictures weren’t enough to convince them?” Before that first night, your kidnappers had forced you and your co-workers to look up at them as they snapped photos of you on their phones. You knew then that they were either using it as a scare tactic for your father and the Board or they were providing proof of life. Either way, it hadn’t mattered in the end since obviously the kidnappers had kicked it up a notch after that.

A haunted look fleeted across your father’s tired face. While you may still be struggling with the idea that he hadn’t done everything you would have done in his place, you knew this had taken a toll on him. He had been genuinely concerned for you and the relief you’d seen on his expression when he saw you for the first time since you’d been separated was palpable. “When they saw the video, they could no longer pretend that this was something they could simply deal their way out of.”

Your brows drew together as you studied him. You were sure it had been hard for them to see what had happened to you, to hear your cries, your screams, your pained whimpers. You knew it must have been even more difficult for your father to see. But somehow you got the distinct impression that’s not what he was referring to. “Dad.” He glanced up at you and sure enough, you could tell he was keeping something from you. “Tell me.”

He grasped your hand tightly once more. This was definitely not going to be good. “It was bad enough to see what they did to you…but the end of the video was what convinced them.” At your knitted brow, he elaborated, “They pulled Tim out of the room they were keeping you all in, brought him somewhere, and then killed him.”

Your eyes widened and your heart stopped. What?

“And they said if they didn’t get what they wanted in three days, you were next.”

Your heart started up again and began to pound in your chest. You felt like you were falling with no end in sight. Tim was…dead? Your breathing sped up into short pants and you could hear beeping from a machine you were connected to but it sounded so far away.

You had blocked out some of that experience, your brain subconsciously trying to protect you perhaps, you weren’t sure. And whatever memories stayed, each time they started to flash in your mind, you would close your eyes and grab hold of your safe harbor in those turbulent waves of trauma that tried to overtake you. You would think of green and while the images didn’t exactly disappear, it kept them at a safe distance. Well, while you were awake at least. The nightmares you experienced were something else entirely.

But this…nothing could protect you from this. You suddenly remembered being locked in that bedroom, hearing the yelling, the gunshot—oh God, the gunshot. You had heard the moment they— Your father urged you to calm down, rubbing your hand comfortingly, but you couldn’t hear him or even when a nurse rushed into the room to ask what was going on. Because at that precise moment, a memory came back to you, ripping your tight grip on your green harbor and tossing you back into the dark ocean of trauma and pain to drown in.

It had been right before you’d passed out the second time. While your soldier had gotten out of the helicopter, you had glanced over to see the other helicopter that your people were disembarking from. At the time, you had been so out of it due to the pain and disorientation you had been feeling that you didn’t realize the number of people you should have been seeing was one short. You didn’t even seem to process the black bag two soldiers removed from the aircraft and carried off the tarmac together. You just knew something was wrong, something you had tried to tell your soldier before you passed out again. But now you knew exactly what you had seen.

Tim. Tim had been with you since you started in the New York office; he preceded you actually. Even though your father had chosen him to accompany you and the others, all you could remember was the nice man who had smiled and said hello as he walked into the office; the man who was quiet and reserved but also a hard worker; who had offered you his jacket to cover up with; the man who had begged the kidnappers for the photos of his kids from his wallet that they had taken and then denied him; the man who talked about his family and proudly told you all about his children. His daughter, Riley, was eight and she had recently taken up soccer. Before you’d left for Bogota, she had told him that her coach wanted her to try the goalie position but she was scared; she didn’t want balls flying at her head. You couldn’t blame her on that one and had said as much. You remembered all too well the sports you had been made to join growing up and it had never really been your thing, but it made your father happy so you did it each time he urged you to sign up or try out. Tim’s son, David, was nearly six and he had just graduated kindergarten. And the baby, Olivia, could be quite the handful since she was a very rambunctious toddler who never seemed to run out of energy, but his wife, Angela, lived up to her name and couldn’t be happier with their current family setup. And now… Now, he would never get to see any of them ever again.

The pained wail that met your ears caught you off guard until you realized it was coming from you. Tim was a good man and he had managed to make a life outside of work. He had something you had never let yourself dream about having since it would inevitably get in the way of your successful climbing of the corporate ladder. Now, he would never get to see his kids grow up, go to any more of Riley’s soccer games to encourage her, go on any more date nights with his wife — none of it. You had the horrible thought for a moment that it should have been you in that bag instead. It nearly had been you.

Your father held onto you as you wept, as the nurse rubbed your back from the opposite side of the bed, crooning soft reassurances to you and urging you to try to calm down. But nothing could reassure you; you were here and Tim was not. A cold hard fact that you could do nothing to change. Even worse, you had missed his funeral since you were stuck in the hospital you had been transferred to once you were flown from the one you had briefly ended up in down in Colombia. You hadn’t even known about his death until this moment, your suddenly resurfaced traumatic memories aside.

Since that day, the memory of that single gunshot had tormented you. Had Tim known it was coming? Did he think about Angela and the kids right then? Had he prayed they would be okay without him? How terrified must he have been? You knew how scared you were in that bedroom, how fearful you had been during your second round of torture, sensing that this wasn’t going to end with the doctor treating you as it had the last time (which had now been confirmed that your instinct had been spot on). You could only imagine how he must have felt in that final moment.

The nightmares proceeded to get even worse and you were afraid to be left alone in your hospital room. Though your father and the medical staff had assured you that you were safe, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t, no matter how irrational you knew you were being. Eventually, your assistant Luna started working remotely from your room to keep you company and your father had hired two full-time bodyguards to watch over you: Owen during the day and Simon at night. When the nightmares became practically unbearable, that rotation switched. For some reason, you felt safer with Owen there. Perhaps it had to do with his look, specifically his salt and pepper beard…you briefly remembered the feeling of a beard underneath your bloody fingertips though you couldn’t place the face it belonged to. You had a feeling it was connected to the green you remembered, that you clung to in the tumultuous sea of mayhem that was the night you were marked to die — the green that you associated with your rescuer. Why you couldn’t recall his face, you had no idea, but you chalked it up to your brain once again trying to make sense of the chaos that reigned inside your head.

Green continued to symbolize safety and reassurance for you. So much so that when Luna brought a bag of clothes for you to change into for your beginning rehab sessions, you immediately picked out an olive green hoodie she had selected from your closet and set it aside. You took to holding it close as you slept, letting the scent of home attached to it wash over you as you closed your eyes. When you would wake from your nightmares, sometimes gasping for air that wouldn’t come, sometimes crying, or sometimes screaming, you would see the hoodie next to you and grab it, holding it close until you could either breathe again or calm back down. It became a source of comfort for you and long remained that even after you were discharged.

Your doctor had recommended therapy in addition to the outpatient rehab you would be continuing but truth be told, you weren’t in a rush to relive anything or even unearth something that might somehow be worse than what you already remembered. Your father had also dismissed the idea of therapy, saying that focusing on regaining your ability to walk without the assistance of crutches would help, as well as getting back to concentrating on work. You didn’t agree, you knew better, but you also allowed his view to become your excuse, solidifying your refusal to deal with the trauma you had suffered. After all, you were still here, still breathing — as long as you kept reminding yourself of that, you would be fine.

So you did as your father insisted: you focused on your physical therapy and you slowly found your way back to working full-time. You had graduated from crutches to a cane. Your doctor said your knee was healing nicely and right on schedule, which made you glad that you had listened to him and not your father’s initial suggestion of a knee replacement. You still felt a twinge of discomfort and a whispery echo of pain when walking so you relied more heavily on the cane than your doctor or physical therapist might have liked. You may not have remembered everything from your ordeal, but the pain of the initial impact of the bat and afterwards as you were carried to a waiting helicopter to take you to safety was still a very recent and clear memory for you. You doubted you would ever forget it as long as you lived.

Eventually, you returned to your office and you accepted the well wishes all around. You had no idea what they had been told about your obvious injury or what had caused it but thankfully, no one questioned you. You had been in brief touch with Meredith and the others in the days after your initial surgery back in Colombia but not since then. You had been so focused on your recovery and processing the news of Tim’s death that, truthfully, you hadn’t thought of much else. Even though Luna had been working from your hospital room for a time and she kept you apprised on all developments as well as anything that required your attention, you knew your father had instructed her to keep it all to a strictly need-to-know basis until you were finally ready to fully take up the mantle again. And because you were already dealing with more than enough, you allowed it and didn’t push for more than she told you. So the guilt consumed you when you were informed that Suzanne had resigned and Pat had taken an early retirement to be able to spend more time with her kids and grandkids. Rob had taken a position at another company, though Jerry and Meredith were still there. However, Meredith worked remotely most days, something she had worked out with your father while you had been out. You wondered if it might have been a result of Meredith initially refusing to sign the NDA, a sort of compromise to get her to agree to keeping your ordeal under wraps. You made a mental note to reach out to all of them so you could at least check in to see how they were doing. Jerry was in Research; you’d stop by there later.

As tough as all of that had been to learn and stepping back into the swing of things proved to be a little more complicated than you thought it would be, the most difficult moment had been when you went up to Design. Seeing Tim’s office not being Tim’s anymore had left you reeling. Your father moved fast and had hired his replacement within days. From a professional perspective, you more than understood; the business still had to run after all and Design was one of your most crucial departments. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things. The nightmares were particularly brutal that night. You kept hearing the gunshot, kept seeing one of the kidnappers with their cell phone look over at you afterwards and give you the most terrifying smile. Even the hoodie hadn’t helped. When you looked at it, you didn’t see green anymore but red. A very bold and wet shade of dark red. You tossed it away from you and screamed, bursting into sobs as you rocked yourself back and forth in a soothing motion.

You had immediately called out sick the next morning and spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between crying and staring blankly at the TV on the wall. Later on, when you could think clearly again, you gave yourself a stern talking to. You were here, alive, and you had hundreds of people looking to you to lead them. You refused to dishonor Tim’s memory by hiding away in your apartment for the rest of your life, no matter how appealing the option might feel. You could hear your father’s voice in your head again, pushing you, telling you to get back up and go to work, to be the best you could be.

And sure enough, you heard his voice for real the next day when he walked into your office. “What is he doing here?”

You glanced up and looked over where he was pointing to see Owen sitting in one of the chairs off to the side, watching you both. You pressed your lips together and shut the portfolio in front of you. “His name’s Owen, Dad. You know that. And he’s here because I asked him to be.”

Your father looked quite displeased with that. “I dismissed him and the other one last week. We talked about this.”

You let out a quiet sigh and sat back in your chair. “I know but—”

“It’s not a good look and it certainly isn’t good for morale. The cane you still insist on unnecessarily using is bad enough. Do you think people around here aren’t asking themselves or each other why you have this man sitting in your office, watching your every move?”

You leaned forward and lowered your voice. “Dad, I get that. I do, but I need—”

“Is this why you called out sick yesterday?” You briefly dropped your gaze to your desk. You didn’t really want to talk about that or how despondent you’d been in your bed for hours until your alarm went off, jolting you into grabbing your phone and making the call. Your father’s eyes softened though his tone didn’t. “Honey, what you need is to dismiss him, permanently, and get back to your life, to your work. Don’t forget, you’re at the helm of this ship and everyone’s looking to you to navigate it seamlessly through the waters.”

Your jaw clenched and for the first time in your life, you were about to draw a line in the sand between what he was telling you to do and what you knew you needed to do. “I’m aware of that and I can’t steer the ship unless I feel safe. Owen here,” you nodded in the man’s direction. “Makes me feel safe. With him present, I can focus and get the job done. So, Owen is staying until I say otherwise.”

Your father’s own jaw tightened. “I’m not paying for more—”

“You’re not. I am. And believe it or not, while I’m doing what’s right for me, I’m also doing what’s right for this office, to ensure our complete success. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some reports from Research to review.” You slipped your eyeglasses back on and reopened the portfolio in front of you, scanning the contents.

You glanced up when your father stepped closer to your desk, his voice lower than before though his now angry gaze burned into you. You should have known by dismissing him in that manner after standing your ground, what it would do. “I’m going to strongly suggest that you finish up with Research and take your lunch out of the office. Perhaps outside. It’s a beautiful day and a dose of fresh air might just be what you need.” He gave you a curt nod and then swiftly left the room. Once he was gone, your shoulders deflated and you slumped back into your chair. You knew your father loved you and he only wanted the best for you, for you to succeed, but sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if it ever came down to the choice of you or the business, who would he choose? He already chose. You blinked the rapidly forming tears in your eyes away at the thought that had popped into your head out of nowhere and carefully got to your feet, reaching for your cane.

“Owen,” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him immediately stand at attention. “I think we’re going to take my father’s advice. He’s right. It is a beautiful day and I would like to take full advantage of it.” He moved towards you, watching as you moved to the corner and slipped on your light coat. “I’d prefer to be anywhere that isn’t here,” you mumbled, grabbing your handbag.

You carefully made your way across your office with Owen following right behind you, ready to assist if need be while also keeping an eye out. You called out to your assistant as you passed her by, “Luna, I’m going out for lunch today. Please hold all calls until I return.”

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N. If Research calls while you’re out, is there anything you would like me to tell them?”

You thought it over for a moment before turning towards the elevators. “Tell them I’m still working on it. Thank you.” And for the first time since you’d started in this company, you left without getting the job done. The thought didn’t sit well with you, you had always been conditioned to complete all of the tasks set out before you, no matter how late you might have to stay to complete them. But at the same time, it oddly made you smile a little.

So here you were, in Central Park on a gorgeous fall day, having taken your father’s advice to heart. You took every single one of your lunches outdoors now unless it was raining or too cold to sit outside for long. You always marveled at the fact that you had lived in New York City for close to two years and you had never once taken the time to stop and notice what surrounded you on a daily basis. You had never taken in the present moment, never taken an opportunity just to be, to sit quietly and listen. The bench you were on by the lake had quickly become one of your favorite spots. You could relax and indulge in the art of people watching, take in all of the sounds, sights, and smells around you. Truth be told, it was the best part of your day.

Owen stood sentry not too far from you, giving you enough space but also ready to intervene at any moment should he be needed. Despite sitting in a park in the middle of one of the most crime-ridden cities in the country, you felt beyond safe. Owen would never let anything happen to you and being in public, around people living their everyday lives…you felt the safest you had in a long time. A feeling you ended up trying to replicate by looking up Central Park ambience videos on YouTube and playing them while you fell asleep though it didn’t always manage to keep the nightmares away. But you expected that; trauma could be a real stubborn pain in the ass.

But right now, sitting here like this, you were okay. That is, until someone decided to sit down on the opposite side of the bench you were on. All of the times you had sat in this spot, you had been left alone, free to claim this bench as your own for the hour or so you’d spend here. Now, someone appeared not to have gotten the unofficial memo. Out of your peripherals, you saw Owen quickly approaching, most likely intending to tell the stranger to move to another bench, when the person glanced back at him, holding a hand up.

“Relax, man. I appreciate you looking out but I’m not here to hurt her, alright? I’m just here to talk.” The second you heard the voice, your gaze snapped over to the man across from you. You immediately recognized it; it was one you’d heard in your nightmares over and over, telling you to stay with him as you desperately clung to his hand until the kidnappers snatched you away. Was it even possible or were you just imagining this man had spoken to Owen with that voice?

When the man turned back to look at you, you recognized the green eyes immediately and a small lump began to form in your throat. Sure enough, he had a beard, one that looked startlingly familiar when you warily prodded at the memory, trying to recall it. A flash of his face, dirtier than it appeared now, popped into your mind. As if it had been patiently waiting all of this time for you to simply reach out and grab a hold of it. Tears began to burn in the corner of your eyes; it was him.

“It’s you,” you choked out in a whisper without really meaning to.

The smile you faintly remembered graced his face. “It’s me,” he confirmed.

You stared at him, truly dumbfounded. “How?”

“I told you I’d find you.”

You nearly started crying when the familiar words floated up from your subconscious, the phrase you had somehow forgotten in the midst of everything. But you remembered it now, as clearly and vividly as the man sitting before you who had said it. You had been about to pass out in the makeshift surgical room, crying and holding onto him tightly, afraid to let him go. “Will I ever see you again?” “I’ll find you.”

“I made you a promise and I intended on keeping it.” His green eyes softened slightly, much as they had all of those months ago as he caught every single tear that rolled down your cheeks as you succumbed to the drug beginning to course through your system. “I’ll find you.”

And find you he did.

A little preview of the next installment:

Still sensing your discomfort, Russell immediately lifted up and peeled his shirt off, revealing his bare skin to you for the first time. Immediately, you noticed a small bandage wrapped around his left arm. “What happened?” You gasped, sitting up and gingerly running your fingers below the bandage line. He shrugged and looked down at it. “Got shot on a job.” Your jaw dropped and when he glanced back up at you, he must have seen the worry that was consuming you because he immediately chuckled and affectionately cupped your chin. “I’m okay. Besides, that’s not what I wanted to show you.” He took your hand in his and moved it to his other shoulder, guiding your fingertips over skin that was jagged, puckered slightly, and silver-looking. “Shot.” He then moved your hands down his side until it reached a decent sized line that was anything but smooth. “Stabbed.” Your hands moved again to right above his abdomen. “Cut.” They moved once more and ended up on his clavicle. “Cut from an attempted stab.” You winced as he mentioned each injury he had received; they had all been the result of violent means. He moved your hands up to the upper tip of his right ear. “Bullet graze.” There was no scar there to speak of but you could see the tiniest bit of difference between his ears in that area when you looked closely. He finally brought your hand to rest over his heart, holding it there. “Sofia.” Your brows furrowed in confusion and he smirked over at you. “Cute little waitress in Costa Rica. Gave me one hell of a weekend and then left me high and dry for some young British guy who showed up at the beach and hadn’t yet run out of money.” You scoffed and yanked your hand from underneath his, making him laugh, as you crossed your arms. He moved closer to you, cupping your cheeks and staring into your eyes. “I’m kidding about that last part. The rest, I’m not. I’ve got plenty more on my back and even a few on my legs. A couple more on my arms. We all have scars. They’re just reminders of battles we’ve fought and survived. Don’t be ashamed of yours.” A tear escaped and rolled down your cheek but his thumb caught it. He pressed his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re beautiful.” When he looked at you like this, spoke softly to you like this, you genuinely believed him.

A/N: Coming soon. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for Part 2.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

#russell shaw x reader #russell shaw x female reader #russell shaw x y/n #russell shaw fanfiction #you're safe now i'm here part 1 #thebiggerbear writes

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phati-sari · 4 years ago

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Arshi FF: Charade - Chapter 35

Chapter 34 // Read on FFnet // Read on Wattpad

Chapter 35: Constellation

Khushi

“—I’m here!” Mami-ji flounced into the study. “I asked Hari Prakash to make us some popcorn. Now we can watch.”

She settled on the sofa next to them, eyes already eagerly trained onto the screen. “Hello, hi, bye-bye. I’m eager to see who this Tanya is. In the precap last week she looked so good. All modern and beautiphool!”

Exchanging a look with her Jiji, who sat next to her on the couch, Khushi responded, “The actress is very pretty. I hope Sagar is nicer to her than he is to Muskaan.”

Jiji reached for the popcorn Mami-ji had placed on the table.

“Here, I think he was right to be angry,” she said. “She can’t just do whatever she wants without thinking about the consequences!”

Gasping, Khushi stole some popcorn from her sister’s hand, “It was a mistake, she didn’t know it was his house!”

“You just watch,” Mami-ji gestured at the screen. “You know how these serials go. She’ll vow to never see him again and end up working in his media empire as a receptionist, hello, hi, bye-bye.”

They subsided as the disclaimer came on the screen. Khushi returned to her phone, deleting two emojis from her message before pressing send.

“Payal?”

Just outside the sitting area, Aakash-ji held a shirt as he stared bemusedly at the television.

“Bitwa, what do you want?”

“N-no, Maa, I was looking for Payal.”

By now, Jiji had met Aakash-ji at the threshold of the room, “What is it, Aakash?”

They stepped away to hold a short, murmured conversation. Khushi looked at her phone in an effort to give them privacy, just as it lit up. The screen showed her message and the response:

Khushi: We’re watching Rabba Ve in the study, in case you come home and can’t find me. You should watch with us!

Arnav-ji: Very funny, Khushi.

Smiling, she quickly typed out a reply. He responded almost immediately.

Khushi: Aakash Jija-ji is here too, watching with us. Why don’t you ever join us?

Arnav-ji: What Aakash does in his marriage is his own business. I’m in the car, see you soon.

Jiji returned to her place on the sofa after a few minutes, the shirt and a needle and thread in her hands. Aakash Jija-ji flopped next to his mother after snatching up some popcorn.

“This is nonsense,” he interrupted a few minutes later. “Why are there so many shots of him walking dramatically? It’s taken him five minutes to reach his office and now he’s leaving again.”

“You just shut-up-iyai, Aakash-bitwa. This is no place for your logic, it’s a serial.”

Khushi heart swelled with gladness as she watched Aakash-ji exchange a contrite look with Jiji, who had to stifle a giggle.

The episode was almost over by the time the doorbell chimed. Khushi stood, waving away Jai Prakash-ji on her way to open the doors. Arnav-ji gave her a small smile as she took his laptop bag.

“How was your show?”

Khushi bounced, “It was good.”

They stopped to say hello to Di, who paused in her reading of a magazine to ask Arnav-ji about his day. And again to chat with Aakash-ji in the study.

“Do you really want me to watch it with you?” her husband asked when they were in their bedroom.

Khushi closed the door with a soft click, “No, I was just teasing you.”

He took the laptop bag from her and placed it on the table before taking her into his arms. She exhaled shakily as the tension she hadn’t realised was there left her body.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” he spoke softly. “Will you come back here with me after dinner?”

Khushi peered up at him, “Why?”

“Just come up here with me. It’s important.”

She stretched up to kiss his jaw, and whispered in his ear when he bent his head, “I told you last night: don’t tell me what to do.”

A laugh that lit up everything inside her. He was still smiling when he kissed her, slow and playful. He left her briefly to change and freshen up, and then led her downstairs with his fingers twined in hers.

Shyam-ji had arrived in time for dinner, much to Di’s delight. She showed everyone the tiny pink cap she’d knitted for her rajkumari as the servants set up the dining table.

“Chhote, look, isn’t it cute? I’m thinking of making matching socks.”

The cap looked even tinier in Arnav-ji’s hand. “This is nice, Di.”

“Rani Sahiba is so talented, don’t you agree Saale-Sahib?”

Arnav-ji didn’t reply, though his smile became strained. Di shoved good-naturedly at Shyam-ji as she spoke again.

“You know, the doctor said that it would be good if we played soft music for our rajkumari.”

“I can get you CDs,” offered Aakash-ji. “Payal and I are going out tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Di said brightly, “I’ll make you a list.”

After dinner, Arnav-ji sent her upstairs with a promise to meet her after a few minutes. Khushi climbed the stairs with her sister, who relayed a list of all the things she intended to buy the next day before mentioning a tentative plan to have dinner in Laxmi Nagar. Twirling in excitement, she promised to ask Arnav-ji and let Jiji know in the morning.

Inside their bedroom, she sat on the recliner to wait for her husband. He arrived a few short minutes later laden with blankets and pillows, which he took straight to the poolside. She locked the bedroom door behind him and followed, watching as he set all the blankets on the ground and arranged the pillows.

“You like the stars, don’t you?” he noticed her hovering. “Come, sit.”

She knelt on the edge of the blankets, something unsettled inside her. Arnav-ji reached up to tug her wrist so she fell against him.

“Arnav-ji … someone will see,” she tried to get up.

“What the—? Who will see?”

Khushi shifted nervously, “Mami-ji, you said she was watching with binoculars the other day.”

He made a sound of amusement and held her close, not speaking until she’d tucked herself into him.

“I spoke to her about that. I reminded her that I could have cameras installed all over the house if she was so concerned about what happened in my bedroom.”

“Arnav-ji!”

He was unrepentant, “She agreed that there’s no need for her binoculars.”

They spent a few minutes watching the stars, with him pointing up and naming a few constellations before telling her stories about them. When she accused him of making them up, he claimed the stories were quite famous in history. He stole a few kisses, let her steal a few in return, and covered them both in a blanket when she shivered.

“Khushi,” he began after a short silence, “a while ago you said there’s so much you still don’t know about me. I told you that all you had to do is ask.”

“I remember.”

“Well, then … ask.”

She shifted onto her elbow to look at him, “What can I ask about?”

“Anything.”

She started small. His favourite colour was red, as Di had once told her. His favourite subject at school had been science.

“Who took the photos,” Khushi gestured inside, “the ones on the walls?”

“Me.”

“You!?”

Arnav-ji kissed her soundly, his hand skimming up her side. “No need to be so surprised.”

It took her a while to catch her breath.

“What happened to Sim-ji and Pam-ji from the office? I haven’t seen them since I returned.”

His response was carefully measured, “They felt I’d treated Lavanya badly and asked me to find them new jobs. I did.”

“Oh.”

She fell silent, at first surprised by the loyalty shown by the women, and then not surprised at all.

They were her friends.

“Have you heard from Lavanya-ji? How is she?”

Arnav-ji tucked a curl of hair behind her ear. “That’s one of the things I wanted to speak to you about. I hadn’t heard from her in months but she emailed today. She wants to go into modelling and asked me to connect her with an agent.”

A burst of happiness for her friend. “That sounds great. Are you going to help her?”

“I wanted to ask you first. Does it … will it bother you if I speak to her?”

“No!”

Instantly, she knew she’d answered too quickly. Arnav-ji stroked his finger across her cheek.

“How about,” he said softly, “I tell you when I speak to her?”

Khushi smiled widely, “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip before dipping his head to kiss her. “She knows we’re married. Said congratulations.”

“Were there other women?” she blurted, “before Lavanya-ji?”

He froze on his way to kiss her cheek.

“Khushi, I want to answer all your questions but some of the answers will hurt you.”

She shook her head, “I’m not asking because it will hurt. I want to understand you. I want to know you.”

With a sigh, he turned onto his back and tucked an arm behind his head.

“Lisa. You met her on the night of the photoshoot.”

This, Khushi had suspected as soon as the woman had leaned in to sniff Arnav-ji’s cologne and run possessive hands over his suit.

“She seemed so …”

“… high strung?” Arnav-ji chuckled. “I know. We only saw each other a few times. She always made it into a bigger thing than it was.”

“That’s it?” Khushi asked, feeling a little better.

“And … Sheetal in college.”

Unlike when he spoke about Lisa-ji, the cadence of his voice indicated happy memories.

“At … Ha … Harv … ?” she tried to remember the writing on his jogging clothes.

“Harvard,” Arnav-ji said easily. “Yeah, she did her MBA with me.”

“MBA?”

“Masters of Business Administration.”

He seemed to relax as their conversation shifted away from his past relationships, and for the first time, Khushi realised how hard it’d been for him to speak about them. The fact that he’d still done it filled her with happiness. Scooting across, she rested her head on his shoulder and slid her arms around him. His fingers found their way into her hair.

“And that taught you to run a business?” she asked.

“The theory of it, yes. When I came back to India, I found it was much harder in practice.”

Under the cover of the blankets, she ran her hand under his shirt and sweater. He jumped a little — “your hand is cold!” — but trapped her fingers there when she tried to retreat.

“I’d used all the money I had just to get through college. When I returned I had next to nothing. Mami believed in me. She sold her jewellery, broke her FD, gave me everything she had. She was my very first investor.”

“Does this mean she owns some of your company now?”

“Everyone does. Di and I control it together, but Mami, Mama, and Aakash all have shares. Aakash gave some of his to Payal. I’ve put through some paperwork, you should have yours soon.”

He wanted to share his life’s work with her. Her heart seemed to swell with the warm and golden sense of belonging. Of rightness. Khushi flattened her palm against his stomach, murmuring a request so he shifted until she could kiss him. He groaned, flipping them around and deepening the kiss. When they came up for air, he was shirtless and her dori was undone and she’d made a mark on his shoulder. Her bangles lay in a neat column above their heads.

“Let’s go inside,” he whispered.

They made it there somehow, though she lost her dupatta along the way, and fell onto the bed in a tangle after closing the curtains. His kiss was hot. The rough tenderness of his touch undid her, a leisurely exploration that had her gasping his name. Never had she felt more treasured, more wanted. Arnav removed the overcoat of her outfit and tossed it onto the floor. He held her in place for another kiss, whispering her name against her lips.

She moved restlessly against him, her hips rolling towards the hardness she could feel pressed against her thigh. He groaned, his hand slipping from her nape, down to her hips, and lower to curve over her bottom. She sucked in a breath when his stubble scratched her skin. An apology mumbled against her neck, his hand angling her so they fit perfectly.

When he traced his fingers lightly over her lips, she remembered the clench of her body as he’d taken her fingers into his mouth. Desire coiled hot and tight in her belly and made her brave enough to tilt her head so his fingers slipped between her lips. A low, taut moan escaped him. Then he turned her into her front with gentle hands. Straddling the backs of her thighs, he dragged the zipper of her dress down. Khushi curled her fingers into her pillow, feeling her breath catch. His hands traced up her spine, unsnapping her bra when he reached it.

“I don’t think you should wear this to bed,” his touch was warm on her skin.

“Wh-what? Why?”

“Less for me to take off.”

She heard the smirk in his voice. Her giggle turned into a moan as he settled on top of her, the heat of his chest on her almost-bare back. When she turned her head to ask for a kiss, he gave her one. It was deep, slow, and made her toes curl as her body throbbed with wanting him. The kisses moved to her nape and then down her spine. She made a soft, desperate sound, feeling as though everything inside her was melting.

Almost without permission, her body arched towards his, and he took advantage to slip his fingers inside the dress and around her ribs. A hand on her breast. She fell forward with a small cry, trapping it there.

“I like you like this,” Arnav spoke in her ear as his hand moulded her. “All mine.”

More kisses, his mouth moving over hers in time with the movements of his hand. And when she thought she couldn’t take much more, he moved away.

“No,” Khushi tried to sit up.

“Take off the dress,” he murmured.

He helped her undress, tugging at her clothes until she was left face down on the bed with nothing but his body covering her. He was still mostly clothed. Another kiss, his tongue inside her mouth as his hand slid under her to resume its play on her breast. Her hands clenched into the sheets. She felt utterly at his mercy, trapped under the heat of him as he had access to every part of her body. But she also felt safe, surrounded by his strength.

By the time he stroked his hand downwards she was almost quivering with need. It was natural to lift her hips a little to give him room. He didn’t hesitate. Her gasp became a moan as he slid a finger down her centre. And then back up, all the while whispering into her ear. All the words he didn’t say in the daytime now spilled out of him, words of love, of adoration.

Arnav’s fingers dipped even lower, breaching her for one breathless second before stroking back up. It was agony. He did it again and again, teasing, playing, sliding his finger deeper each time before retreating, and chuckled at the frustrated sound she released.

“We’re working on your patience, remember?” a kiss to her shoulder.

But the next time, he stayed. Kissing her deeply, he did something that made her frantic. She stopped thinking, pleasure burning like wildfire in every cell of her body. It was different from the night before. Tighter and hotter and just more. When her pleasure crested she muffled herself in a pillow, feeling wave and after wave of sensation crash into her. It turned the world red.

When she came back to herself he was still astride her, lazily stroking his fingers down her back.

“You okay?” he asked.

Khushi hummed, trying to turn, and smiled when he rose just enough to let her. He placed her hands on his chest after nibbling each finger in turn and shuddered as she ran her nails down his body. A kiss, tender and possessive and full of desire. A renewed tension twisted inside her as he ran his hands over her body and his mouth followed.

He seemed to get distracted by her breasts, lingering as he took a long, slow taste. His hair felt soft against her fingers. She accidentally pulled at it when she felt his teeth, causing him to groan. He asked if she liked this or this, or maybe this, and with each whispered question, each thrilling demonstration, the frenzy in her body built. His fingers became urgent on her hips and thighs.

“Again?” he spoke against her lips when she arched into him.

Something in her tummy swooped low at his question. She nodded, and Arnav shifted so he could press directly against her. He’d gotten rid of his pants without her noticing, and the material of his underwear did nothing to disguise the scorch or shape of him. He seemed to lose control, his hand plumping her flesh before he sucked a peak into his mouth. She cried out when he rocked, her hands locking onto his shoulders.

He returned to her lips, “Hold on.”

Then he moved, each circle of his hips causing stars to explode behind her eyes. She forced them open to find him looking down at her, eyes ablaze and mouth slightly open, his hair falling across his forehead. The muscles in his shoulders bunched as he moved. It was the unprecedented intimacy of it that did it. She reached the cliff and hurtled over it again, her mouth shaping his name as pleasure rippled within her. He continued to press against her, speeding up as he pushed once, twice.

“More,” he groaned into her hair.

Khushi ran her teeth over the jagged pulse in his neck and bit down. He shuddered, swearing, and froze for several long seconds. His breath was harsh against her ear as he seemed to collapse, feeling heavy, as if — until now — he’d been careful not to let her feel his full weight. Heart still racing, she stroked a hand through his hair until he stirred, taking her with him as he rolled onto this back. His stubble was rough on her skin as he pressed lazy kisses wherever he could reach.

“Give me a moment,” he spoke softly, “and then we’ll get cleaned up.”

There was a pressure in her chest, as if she couldn’t contain the happiness she felt inside. Khushi fought a yawn, “Okay.”

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arshi #ipkknd ff #arshi ff #iwrotethis #mine #ff: charade

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kuriquinn · 7 years ago

Text

Gal Friday [4/?]

First Chapter & Disclaimer

Beta: None right now. I’ll get to it.

AN: As mentioned in previous post, most people sent me asks about Gal Friday, so I decided to post that tonight :) The conclusion of Scion will be up tomorrow.

The lunch meeting with Hyūga Neji takes longer than expected. Some sort of internal crisis is going on with the latter’s company, and he needed to call in a favour. And of course, Neji is just as averse to asking for help as Sasuke is, so it took an entire meal of discussing stock options and comparing quarterly earnings before he cut to the chase and broached the subject.

Sasuke, naturally, made him stew for a minute or so, before agreeing, if only because he respects the other man. He also trusts him to a certain extent, at least in financial matters.

Neji has better business acumen than the entire Hyūga clan and company put together, yet might be passed over because of the family’s archaic inheritance laws. His cousin Hinata is technically supposed to inherit everything, being the oldest child of the family, but she has little talent when it comes to business. The whole reason for her being offered a position with the Uchiha family was to help her ease into things, but honestly, he thinks she’ll peak at the level of secretary.

Nothing against her character, she’s loyal and competent. But that’s about it.

Running a business requires a certain level of mettle and cool headedness that she doesn’t have.

And, of course, the ability to talk to people without fainting…

As he returns to his office, Sasuke glances at his watch, groaning when he sees that it’s only three o’clock. He’s meant to meet with Hatake Kakashi in an hour, but the man is constantly late, he likely won’t arrive until five.

Kakashi has been his mentor since Sasuke started working at the company after school as a teenager, and he has served as the right-hand man to both of Sasuke’s predecessors—his cousin Obito and, of course, his older brother Itachi. Kakashi even acted as Interim CEO before Sasuke took the reins, so it’s not as if Sasuke can simply cancel the meeting on him.

Maybe there’s something I can get started on for tomorrow, he thinks as he passes Sakura’s empty desk. He assumes she’s gone home or whatever she does after work. Didn’t she say something about night school?

He wonders at her ability to keep on top of everything during the day and then also be studying at night; he was consistently first in all of his post-secondary courses, but he hadn’t almost every second of it. When it wasn’t tedious, it was boring, and he slept through most of his MBA.

He somehow doubts Sakura will do the same, and then frowns at himself a second later for the direction of his thoughts. He gives his head a shake and tells himself it doesn’t matter as long as she shows up on time tomorrow for work, and doesn’t forget about the Oto files he asked her to get from Legal—

He pauses, catching sight of something on the immaculately organizes surface of her desk. A dozen neatly stacked grey folders, and printed summary on top.

“The Oto files,” he murmurs, bemused, picking one up, flipping it open, and then putting it back down on her desk with a scowl. “How the hell does she…?”

“Sasuke, stop loitering and get in here,” a voice interrupts his thoughts, and he won’t admit it, but he jumps.

Sitting in his office, Kakashi is watching him with amusement. Which makes no sense, because he shouldn’t be here for at least another two hours. And yet, he’s leaning back in a chair, straightening the white surgical mask across his face.

Kakashi is always sick with some cold or flu, thanks to his kids, so he always wears a mask around the office; Sasuke doesn’t think he’s ever seen him without it.

“Did someone die?” Sasuke asks, stepping warily into his office. “Or is someone holding your family hostage?”

“What? No.”

“Then why are you here?” Sasuke asks. “You’re never on time.”

“Very funny,” his mentor grumbles, sounding put out and a little insulted. “I’m allowed to care about the direction of the company and want to use our time wisely.”

Sasuke ruminates on this, then narrows his eyes and says. “What’s she got on you?”

“Spoilers for the latest Icha Icha novel,” Kakashi admits gloomily.

Sasuke snorts, because at this point he’s not longer even surprised. Sakura did say she would ensure everyone adhered to her schedule and somehow—whether through coercion or some kind of witchcraft—she’s done just that.

Still, the fact that something so mundane is what snared Kakashi in the end is a bit pathetic.

“You are a pitiful portrait of a man and I feel ashamed just being in the same room as you,” he informs him.

“Then let’s do this fast so that I can go home and stop subjecting you to my questionable morals.”

うちは

“Ever hear the saying ‘to ere is human, but to really screw up you need some kind of technological entity’?” Kakashi asks around five hours later, breaking the silence and making Sasuke look up, bleary-eyed.

“No.”

“Yeah, me neither. And this wouldn’t be one of those cases,” the white-haired man sighs and leans back.

There are dozens of papers spread out between himself and Kakashi, both of their laptops open as they iron out budget allocations for the various branches of the company, evaluate resource demands across the departments, and offer last minute input on the company’s latest advertisement campaign.

There is a sound like rattling from the doorway, and when they both glance up, Sasuke is surprised to see Sakura standing there, wheeling in one of the fancy tea carts they use during board meetings or when courting clients. On it is an assortment of sushi and shashimi, as well as a pot of tea.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, surprised. He thought she went home hours ago.

“Well, classes don’t start until next week,” she says, and he realises he said this out loud. “I’ve been in the file room all afternoon—and I’d love to meet the people who set up your system. Let me tell you, the Antikythera mechanism was probably easier to operate.”

Kakashi snorts. “You mean someone with your blackmail talents also has to file?”

“I know I make awesome look effortless, but there is a bit of prep,” Sakura sniffs, tossing her hair. Then she grins at them both and gestures to the cart. “But lucky for you two, the restaurant two blocks down does deliveries. So not too much effort.”

“I’m not hungry,” Sasuke says, turning back to his spreadsheets. “Eating slows me down.”

He pretends he doesn’t notice the way his stomach growls to belie that statement.

“That’s the beauty of finger food. You can eat it while you work,” Sakura says, and then points at several pieces of omusubi . “I even made sure to get your favourite. Tomatoes, and everything.”

He scowls at her. “If you’ve been talking to my mother again—”

“She’s talked to your mother?” Kakashi asks, only just changing his guffaw of amusement to a cough when Sasuke shoots him an annoyed glare.

“Ino, actually,” Sakura chirps. “She says you get cranky when you get hungry. And I figure, if what I’ve seen so far isn’t cranky, I don’t ever want to actually see cranky, so really, feeding you is probably a public service.”

She grins proudly, one hand on her hip. Kakashi raises an eyebrow, indicating that Sasuke that the metaphorical ball is now in his court.

He considers for a moment and shakes his head stubbornly. “Not now. We’re working.”

Kakashi sighs.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Sakura rolls her eyes. “It’s scientifically proven that working on an empty stomach increases your tendency to make mistakes.”

“That doesn’t happen to me.”

“Really? So that zero you left off the cost estimate for the Sarutobi Account was on purpose?” she asks, pointing at one of the papers to Sasuke’s left. “I didn’t realise your company had forty-five million yen just lying around.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen incrementally, but he refrains from snatching the paper to see if she’s right; Kakashi does that, though, picking it up and scanning through it. His face pales a little.

“She’s right,” he says. “We’ll have to reclacluate this before sending the official numbers out.” He smiles at Sakura beneath his match. “You’ve got a pretty good eye for a personal assistant. Are you sure you want to spend all your time with this one? I’m sure I can find someone more pleasant for you to work with.”

Sakura opens her mouth to speak, but Sasuke cuts her off. “We’ll eat now.”

He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to make a major mistake in the company over a stupid matter of pride. But Kakashi observes him carefully as he reaches for a plate of food, spitefully taking all the tomatoes he can see.

Somewhat spitefully, Sasuke begin to eat, relaxing a little bit because, well, he was actually hungry

He notices eyes on him and glances up, Kakashi’s eyes comically wide, while Sakura is watching him with amusement and something oddly like exasperation.

“What?” he demands.

“Were you absent in playschool when they went over manners?” she chides him. “I just saved you a fortune and brought you dinner. Anything you want to say?”

She crosses her arms and looks at him in challenge. He notices for the first time that she has rather muscular forearms, which seems somewhat at odds with her otherwise delicate-looking self. And her knuckles are callused the way his were when he still trained routinely in martial arts. He wonders if she still practices—

“Sasuke-kun,” she prompts, soft but at the same time a prompt that demands an answer.

Kakashi’s mouth may be invisible to him, but from the way his eyes focus on Sasuke’s like lasers, he’s probably repeating the words ‘Sasuke-kun’ with incredulous mocking.

“Tch!” Sasuke frowns at her, and then says, “Thank you.”

And then looks away from her, a clear dismissal, as he takes another bite of food. Kakashi is gaping at him now, but he ignores that, too.

Still, he can’t help glancing back at her out of the corner of his eye.

Her challenging expression changes, and she beams with genuine warmth. “You’re welcome!”

Sasuke feels like he was just physically punched in the gut and as he breathes in sharply, inhales a large glob of sticky rice.

He begins to choke.

“Sasuke?!”

“Sasuke-kun!”

Sakura is already reaching for him, perhaps to clap him on the back, but he waves her off.

“It’s fine,” he says tightly. “Go home.”

“Alright,” she says slowly, hanging back. She offers him a last worried once-over, and then smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then flounces away.

Sasuke watches her go, not entirely sure what just happened, but fairly certain that something did.

He is brought back to himself with the sound of quiet chuckling.

“What?” he snaps at Kakashi.

“Nothing,” the older man says, in a voice that is miles from innocent. “I just suspect things are going to get very interesting around here.”

Sasuke scowls. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Hm…I don’t feel like telling,” Kakashi drawls. “More fun to watch you figure it out yourself.”

“I can fire you.”

“No, you can’t.”

つづく

I’m going to start getting plotty with this story after this chapter. I’ve finally got some ideas, it’s just going to take a while to outline. But I figure more stunned/clueless Sasuke can tide you over for a little while at least.

As always, reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated! Also, if you are in a supportive mood, you can find my tip jar here.

クリ

#ssm17 #ssm17d6 #prompt: thank you #sasusaku #rating: teen #for now #fanfiction #ceo & assistant #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #hatake kakashi #humour #drama #romance #slow-build #no plot yet #but there's one coming

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