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marksbear · 2 years ago

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hello hello!

i'd like to request hughie (if you do write for him) x a male supe reader who has kinda the same vibe as homelander, like a powerful, asshole

(and lowkey homicidal, but lets gloss over that 🤗)

who's more of a villain (basically w/ vought/ an antagonist against the boys and all that)

anyways main idea is that hughie isn't supposed to be fucking the reader 'cause they're not even on the same team 💀 but is anyways cause how could he resist

Finally a request for the boys it's been such a long time since I had one! 😭 Hey! I hope you are doing good Anon! And I hope you like the fic!

I made sure that the reader can choose his own powers but I added one so the story can be better! And H/n= Hero name!

I hope you don't mind if I do a oneshot if you want a headcanons just send in another request for a headcanons! I don't mind it at all in fact i'll love it. I just have a thing for The Boys - Love, bear.

Hughie Campbell x SUPE MALE READER

Warnings, y/n is homicidal, manipulator Y/n, two faced reader, fluff interactions with Hughie and Y/n, mean reader, Y/n has a secret power

All the boys were in Hughie's house for some odd reason and sitting on the couch all gathered up together watching the news. H/n just broke the world record for saving the most people under five minutes.

It was two hundred and seventy six people he saved in such a short time. Him just saving people made the whole world go crazy. Over two hundred people in just five minutes made the people love him.

Hughie gets up from his spot off the couch and goes outside to call boyfriend.

WITH Y/N

"AHAH You should have seen me! I killed half the other people I didn't save! I'm telling you I convinced the whole world I saved every single body but in reality I killed about eighty!" Y/n says an underground hero that's just like him.

"You know what kid, you're gonna be just like me...Not as powerful and good looking though." Y/n tells the young supe who worships him like a god. "You think so Mr H/n?!" The young supe asks with such excitement in his voice.

"Kid. I know so. When have I ever been wrong?" Y/n says smugly with an evil smirk on his face. The young look up in awe stuck in a trance until Y/n ringer goes off.

"Well kid I gotta go." Y/n pats the kid on the back leaving with an evil smirk and snaps his fingers getting the young out of his trance.

That's the one Vought didn't know Y/n has. He gets people into a trance like he was the most interesting and best person ever. Manipulating people with his powers was easy just look them in the eye and just snap his fingers boom there under his control like hes a king or a god.

Some of the good perks are that it doesn't matter every bad thing he does He can make anyone see it as a good thing and it saved man-kind. His favorite thing to do is trick someone to do his mission for him or make interviewers leave him alone. And he can add new memories to people and take away old ones.

The down side to his hidden power is the major headaches he has and fainting spells. His fainting spells always seem to happen during missions that's why he tries to save the people fast before he passes out.

(Okay back to one shot because his little power is gonna be important later!)

"Hello?" Y/n says answering his phone not even bothering to see who's calling him. "Hey Y/n! Uhm I saw you on the news!" Hughie says giddy and all smiley once he hears Y/n voice and his smile is bigger when he hears Y/n chuckle.

Female, Frenchie, Mother milk and Billy look outside the window trying to eavesdrop the conversation.

"Oh really? Did I look good for you or what?" Y/n jokes making Hughie laugh. "Of course you did! You always look great." Hughie compliments making Y/n's heart skip a beat.

Y/n knew who Hughie works with. Hell that's how they even met. He was about to kill Hughie once he had to look for him it was either capture or kill him and he chose to kill him. Y/n didn't know why he couldn't bring himself to finish him off. He had Hughie on the ground bleeding to death but once they made eye-contact they locked in.

Y/n met hundreds of handsome men like Hughie but he was different so he decided to spare him but with a cost. With the snap of his fingers he entered memories of Hughie and himself dating for a very long time. He gave Hughie his number and called the ambulance for him and wiped his memory of the fight happening.

"Hughie. You're too kind I swear..." Y/n face becomes hot and leans on the wall. "How about I come to your place later huh? If you're not busy that is." Y/n offers putting his phone closer to his ear.

"Sorry can't kinda busy with work." Hughie lies to his boyfriend. "Oh. Uhm okay." Y/n heart aches a little knowing that his boyfriend is hiding something and lying to him. But he can't judge he lied for this whole relationship to be a thing. "Well gotta go. Y'know supe things." Y/n jokes with a straight face.

"Bye Y/n love you----" Y/n cuts Hughie off by hanging up. Y/n looks at young supe he was just talking to and smirks to himself.

If Hughie was too busy with his boy band for him how about he has something else to keep him company and entertained. As soon as he makes his move Homelander stops him talking about something. Everything he said becomes muffled and his vision blurry makes his head feel dizzy. "John catch meee.." Y/n slurs out passing out on the Number one hero.

Homelander catches him swiftly with a sigh and picks him up taking him to the meeting room. Lots of the other Seven members ask Homelander what happened and is Y/n okay. Homelander places Y/n in his seat and goes to his own starting the meeting.

By the time Y/n wakes up its dark and he's all alone. Y/n looks around with a major migraine feeling like hes gonna die with every single movement. Y/n forces himself to get out of the chair and his leg wobbles out of the room and out of Vought.

Y/n calls a cab and leans on the wall from a random shop. Once the cab arrives Y/n gets in quickly telling the driver to go to Hughie's job. Y/n groans from the music in the car. Once they arrived Y/n snapped his fingers and told the driver to leave so he didn't have to pay. Y/n opens the store door and gets into defense mode once he sees all the Boys members in the store staring back at him.

As everyone gets into their fighting stance Hughie quickly gets in front of Y/n blocking him. Even though Y/n can easily defend himself against the whole group maybe even kill them all he appreciates Hughie's kind gesture. "Oi Hughie the fuck are ya doin?!"

"H/n isn't like the rest of them! Hes different I swear!"Hughie shouts at Butcher. The Boys stare at Hughie like he has three heads. "H/n he actually cares about being a hero! He actually saves people not for the money or fame to actually save them to save them."

Oh boy if only the world knew the real H/n. A real fuckin bastard.

"How the hell do you know? What he saved you a couple times and what now hes your ideal? " Mothers Milk says full of confusion.

"We have been dating for almost eight months now and he already knows that I'm in the Boys. If he was like those fake supe's wouldn't he already turn me in?" When Hughie said that he had proved a valuable point. Making Y/n smirk a little before raising up his hands.

"Yeah. So what hes fucking with the enemy. If I was like my co-workers all of you would have been dead right now. So how about we make a trounce until further notice." Y/n offers giving his hand out to Billy. Billy knew countless innocent lives were taken by those very hands. He knew the truth about him. He can see through Y/n's gentle face and his kind words from the news.

He knew the K/n was a cold blooded killer, one of the reasons why he became a hero was to get an ego boost and powerful. As he looks into H/n eyes taking his hand in a tight grip as they shake on it.

"Don't fuck with me H/n." Billy whispers into his ear.

"Stay out of my way." H/n gives Billy a fake smile.

THE END

Editor bear! I'm going to remake this tomorrow! I know I can write better than this 😭

#hughie campbell #the boys x male reader #hughie campbell x male reader #x male reader #male reader #the bear club #the boys

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vinvantae · 2 years ago

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Hi, I had this idea after seeing a tweet about this. Could you write something where reader and DR are teammate and the team makes them doing a challenge where they have to answer to comments or whatever while they’re playing with puppies ? I feel like this would be the cutest thing ever and I can’t stop thinking about the idea of therapy pets and Daniel owning a zoo because mclaren is fucking him up. Thank you and sorry for the rant about that team 💜

This is more of a friendship pairing than a romance one, but I hope you enjoy 🧡

Puppy Love

You were practically jumping for joy as you waited in the studio - you and the team had been struggling the past couple of places and you absolutely deserved a day surrounded by puppies and of course your favourite person, Dan.

The two of you had become glued at the hip from the day you joined the sport - during your rookie years at Williams before McLaren offered you a seated as Mercedes had chosen George over you for the promotion. The Australian had taken you under his wing and you’d become inseparable.

“I could actually throw up I’m so excited.” You grinned, taking your seat - cross legged on the floor beside your teammate.

“Me too. It’s such a nice treat.” He hummed.

“Ready guys?”

You covered your mouth with your hands as the team brought in four small puppies - each of them as cute as the other. “Oh my god they’re so cute.”

They placed the puppies on the floor and they immediately started to sniff around at your feet. Dan cooed softly as the smallest one clambered onto his lap and immediately curled up.

“Okay, introductions please.”

“Hi, I’m Daniel Ricciardo and I’m a formula one driver with McLaren F1 team.” The Australian started, his tattooed hand scratching at one of the puppies ears.

“And I’m y/n y/l/n, also a formula one driver with McLaren F1 team.” You smiled. “And today we’ll be answering your questions while playing with puppies!”

You held a rope in your hand as the other end was tugged at, the puppy using every fibre of strength he had. You smiled softly at your teammate as he goofed about with a smiley little golden retriever- they almost seemed like mirrors of each other.

“Okay, so, which of your fellow grid members could you beat in a fight?”

“Oh, absolutely all of them. Especially this one.” You smirked, nodding your head towards him. “They’re all big softies.”

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to take offence to that.” He chuckled softly. “But she’s absolutely right, she’s scrappy. I reckon I could take Yuki, he’s tiny.”

You giggled as one of the puppies clambered up your chest and made a valiant effort to slobber all over your face. “Down! Silly thing!”

“He likes you!”

“Doesn’t mean I want his spit on my face! You know where that tongue has been.” You groaned.

The interviewer continued to fire off silly questions at you both, helping to loosen the mood - all of you knowing the more serious questions were yet to come. The ones you’d been media trained to answer, the ones that if you strayed off the script then you’d have your ass handed to you.

You let your eyes flicker over to your teammate once again, a soft warmth in your chest when you saw the same small puppy in his lap - is little chin hooked over his leg as it slept without a care in the world. Even though he was loud and boisterous, moments like this really brought home the fact that he was one of the most gentle, kind people you knew and that’s why you felt so safe with him.

“Okay, so, where do you think improvements need to be made to get you guys back up to where you were? Especially you Dan, y/n has out-qualified and outscored you at almost every race this year. 70 points to 19 is pretty rough.”

You saw Dan flinch out of the corner of your eye, it was no secret that you’d been out performing him so far this season, but by no means - at least in your eyes - was that his own fault.

“Uhm, the car just doesn’t have the pace and-“

“It’s also down to poor strategy.” You cut him off, his eyes going wide - your PR manager couldn’t say anything in front of the team you were filming with or else they’d look even worse. “They use team orders at the wrong times. Like, I’m not going to give up a space to Daniel for free but if the team tell me to, I will. This weekend it lost us 4th in the championship because we both got stuck behind Alpine, even though Daniel was significantly faster.”

The room fell silent, everyone astonished by your answer. The only noises coming from the pups continuing to play without a care in the world. Your eyes flickered across the room. “Any more questions?”

“No, I think we’re done. We can wrap it all up now, thank you for your honesty, y/n.” The director said, “if you can say your goodbyes and then tell everyone the puppies are available for adoption.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Dan said. “I think I’m kind of in love…”

Everyone turned their attention to the Australian, who was carefully brushing his finger across the top of the smallest puppy’s head, a tiny smile on his face.

“That’s Mabel.” The director smiled. “And I think she likes you, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen her calm.”

You smiled a little. “I think that’s a sign, Dan.”

The Australian scooped up the small dog and held her in front of his face, grinning as she let out a yawn. She was a scruffy little thing, a little terrier mix you were sure but the way Dan looked at her would make you think she was made of gold dust.

“Thank you all for your questions! These little fellas are all available for adoption, except for little Mabel who seems to have found herself a forever home with our Danny.”

“Welcome to the team!” He grinned and waved her tiny paw at the camera. “See you guys in Hungary!”

Dan wouldn’t let the puppy out of his arms as they tidied everything up, stroking her with the gentlest of touch. “I actually love her.”

“She really seems to love you too.” You hummed. “I reckon she’ll be good for you. A calming presence when the weekends get too much.”

He smiled at you softly. “I hope so.”

***************************************************

Link to very angsty part two can be found here

@itsmycorneroftheinternet @laura-naruto-fan1998 @marianadj99 @tall-tanned-tattoo @wonderlandofsu @monodreme @theplobnrgone @witchy-whore @gipsyd @feminismisaflawlessbitch @pukklv @walkonthewiidside @reallydeadpoet @shes-unwell-babe @eniram-du @eitak-t @itsbwoken @annejackson10-blog @sraholland @readerselegance @danielricciardo3f1 @ujisworld @withyoutilltheendofthismess @alternativemadchen @sad-fridge2323 @haterpenny @awaterfalls @miahelen @heyitskay-21 @f1thirsttraps @jamieolivia27 @spngi @mpolarisblack @cringe-kats @dudde-44

@letsthedogpackandthecats @stampiej @whatssupeef @lightsoutpierre @cam-blog98 @manuosorioh @sugardontbesweet @lovingroscoee @skyslowalking @samsationalwilson @dr3lover @fic-for-readers @guardians-ofthe-lastyoungkilljoy

#daniel ricciardo #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #ricciardo x reader #x reader #formula one

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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Fireworks [Max Phillips x Reader]

Summary: When your boss, Max Phillips, asks you to work late on New Year's Eve, you're infuriated. However, you don't realise what his true intentions are.

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mutual pining, colleagues-to-lovers, mention of drink, mention of family, cursing.

Author's note: This is my second time writing for Max Phillips and I have to admit, it was slightly out of my comfort zone but I hope you enjoy it none the less!

Masterlist

---

For @66wookies

Kiki, it was such a pleasure to write this. After this intense year and the anticipating lead up to 2021, I thought now was a perfect time to share this fic with you. I truly hope you enjoy this fic and had a wonderful festive season. With love,

Your Secret Santa (Rach) Xx.

---

You hated him. Okay, maybe that was a slight over statement, but you weren't exactly pleased with your boss. It was New Year's Eve and you had plans to spend time with your family like you did every year. You'd go to the beach and watch the firework display before heading back home and getting cozy on the sofa, nursing a mug of your favourite hot beverage and watching the countdown on live television. It was simple, but it was your tradition, and it was important to you.

You had to drop by the office during the break between Christmas and New Year's to drop off a sales project you'd been working on for the past month. Proud of the results, you slipped it on your boss' desk and turned around to leave when a large hand dropped down to the small of your back, stopping you in your footsteps. Your whole body stiffened up and you swallowed the lump that had appeared in your throat. You knew it was your boss, because there was just something so distinct about the aura Max Phillips gave off.

He called your name and you took a deep breath, turning around to face him. His hand slipped from you and he smiled politely.

"I need you to stop by on New Year's Eve… work late." Max said matter-of-factly like you couldn't even question it. You stood there completely dumbfounded, your eyes turning comically wide in disbelief when you saw him spin around and walk into his office. You hurried after him.

"I can't do that," you replied with a small, incredulous scoff, like his suggestion was ridiculous. "I booked in to take a holiday for New Year's Eve months ago. I have plans."

"Plans change," Max sighed, sliding into his chair and casually slipping his feet up on his office desk, crossing over his ankles and folding his arms against his chest. "You knew what you were getting yourself into when you took this job. You knew that you must make your position here a priority."

He was right. You hated that he was right.

"But I have plans!" you repeated in protest, perhaps a little too loudly. Max looked up from the paperwork you handed in and stared at you with a quirked eyebrow. Something about the look on his face made you infuriated. It was like he failed to understand how much this has upset you. "Can't you ask Evan? Or Amanda? Or hell, even Tim?"

"Now, no need to get upset," Max hummed, his tone as condescending as ever. "If I wanted Evan or Amanda or Tim I would've asked them. But I want you."

You were angry. So angry you felt your cheeks burn up with rage. But there was something so personal about Max specifically selecting you. You didn't understand it— truth be told, you were just as qualified as everyone else in the office. You always felt like you didn't particularly stand out from a crowd, but clearly, in this circumstance, you had stood out to Max. In fact, you had stood out the moment Max hired you.

He shouldn't have done it, but it wasn't his fault. When you walked into his office for the first time, bright eyed and prepared for your interview, he found you completely and utterly alluring. You were smiley, perky, and gave all the right answers. Even if you had given the wrong answers, the chances were that Max would've still hired you. He figured he could get used to your irresistible good looks by seeing you every day, but he hadn't really. It had been months and he hadn't gotten over you.

Max was no monster. In the moment, you were filled with blinded rage and you were certain he must've had a heart made of stone— but actually, that wasn't true at all. In fact, you couldn't have been more wrong. After you had stormed out of his office, Max was left alone. He swung his feet off the table, immediately ridding himself of that cocky persona he always displayed, and began to nervously pick at his fingernails. He did feel bad. He did feel selfish. But if he didn’t do this now, he felt like I would simply explode. And that would be messy.

He’d admired you from day one. He loved your charm, and the way you’d waltz into the office every morning and brighten up the room. No one else noticed, but Max certainly did. He tried dumb little ways to win your affection, like bringing you a coffee on his lunch break or the bouquet of red roses on your birthday, but you never took the hint.

Maybe you hadn’t taken the hint that he liked you because you were too busy yearning over him yourself! You were smitten with Max. Who wouldn’t be? On the exterior, he was cool and collected, smug and suave. He wore these perfectly pressed designer suits and had the most beautiful chocolate brown hair. You swore you always caught his eyes sparkling, even under the dull, artificial office lighting. He was your dream man, but he also happened to be a man you never would’ve imagined ending up with. He had such a big and boisterous personality, and his job was literally his lifestyle. He was so career oriented whereas you were more focused on spending time with your family. Maybe that’s why this hurt you so much.

You laid on your bed, staring at your wall clock as it ticked by with every second. You had to be at the office in half an hour. If it was up to you, you would’ve been at the firework display doting one of your sleek, little black dresses. You huffed out your cheeks, mourning the New Years Eve you could’ve had. But that was when the realization hit you. You looked down at your comfy slacks and sweater and decided that you weren’t going to let Max Phillips ruin your evening. You could still have a good time, even if your plans had changed. You got up, walked over to your closet and picked out the outfit you had planned on wearing tonight.

You slipped into the dress, fastened your heels and grabbed your favourite jacket, pulling it over your body for warmth. Knowing the roads would be busy, you didn’t want the stress of driving, so you called a cab. As you waited outside for your taxi, your feet became submerged in the thick, fluffy white snow and your breathing became jittery from the cold. You almost regretted wearing the short dress but knew once you entered the office, the heat would engulf you and it would be so worth it.

You were right, too. When you had finally arrived at work, you noted that Max had left the heating on for you. You supposed that had been thoughtful of him, all things considered. The front door got stuck, as it always did. You groaned, trying to get it to budge open and took a mental note. You'd have to text Frank in the morning and remind him to get the stupid lock fixed before something bad happens. The lobby was dark but you did notice the small amber light illuminating Max’s private office at the end of the room. You walked down the deserted office space, your heels clicking against the marble floor as you approached the very end. You knocked on his door, which already stood slightly ajar and waited for Max to call you in. After a brief silence, you finally heard Max’s voice.

His jaw dropped when he saw you, but as always, you didn’t even notice. You always failed to recognise the signs that Max was indeed completely enamoured with you. His lips parted slightly in awe and his eyes widened as you slipped out of your jacket and hung it on the coat peg. Max drunk in your appearance like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen; he even felt something begin to stir in his lower abdomen. It was a sensational feeling. He couldn’t tear his gaze from you as he admired the way your dress hugged your body and accentuated you in all the right places. You were even wearing that beautiful shade of red lipstick, the same one you had worn at the annual Christmas party. The same one that Max had specifically mentioned he adored so much. That colour suited you so well, it drove him crazy.

"You… you look exquisite," he gulped nervously, feeling himself begin to fluster up. "I didn't realise we were making it formal."

"You always wear your suits," you pointed out. "I figured I could dress up too. I bought this dress specifically for my plans tonight and well, I didn't want it to go to waste,"

Max didn't reply, he was still too busy raking in your appearance. The prolonged silence irritated you slightly and you released a sigh that you didn't even realise you were holding back. "Max, if you don't mind me asking, why am I here?" you quizzed.

"Oh, right," Max replied, an air of apology in his voice. He pointed at the chair that was located on the other side of his desk. "Sit."

You obeyed his instruction, gently sliding into the plush leather seat and crossing your legs. You literally took his breath away. He was going to do it, he was finally going to admit his feelings to you, but he couldn't help but notice the scowl that played across your lips. You looked genuinely pissed off with him. So much so that he figured maybe now wasn't the best time after all.

"What is it?" you raised your eyebrows, waiting for the acting sales manager to say something— anything.

"I-" Max started but he really couldn't bring myself to continue. He just couldn't do it. It would be humiliating for him, and there was no way you'd even feel the same way. His whole idea was a joke and he couldn't have been any less thrilled. "Doesn't matter. Sorry for calling you here tonight. Go be with your family." He told you, finally breaking eye contact and looking down at the floor sadly.

You knotted your eyebrows together. "I'm sorry? What?" you gritted out. You weren't as much angry as you were confused.

"Yeah," Max muttered, pointing aimlessly at the door. You blinked profusely. "Sorry." he mumbled again. This was really embarrassing for him. Max Phillips didn't let this kind of shit happen. Max Phillips wasn't the kind of guy to fall in love with his employees— but you had him wrapped around your little finger and didn't even know about it.

"Don't you have family to be with?" you asked your boss hesitantly. Come to think of it, you had never heard Max talk about his family. All you knew about his personal life was that he was excluded from university and ended up finishing his Business Management degree in some quaint and rather illegitimate sounding Romanian college. Max shook his head 'no' and you opted not to prod him any further about it. "Well, I appreciate you letting me leave. But it's no fun staying cooped up in here all night. You're more than welcome to join me and my relatives at the firework display."

Were you mildly annoyed that Max had brought you to his office on New Year's Eve for no evident reason? Yes. But were you also ecstatic that he was allowing you to leave and see your family? Absolutely. You weren't going to deny him, and you were afraid that if you questioned him any further he might change his mind.

Max's eyes lit up at your suggestion. "Wait, really?" He asked, already grabbing his coat and pulling it over his shoulders. "I can drive." His enthusiasm reminded you of the very reason you had fallen for him in the first place.

You giggled. "Of course! Mind, my family can be quite...intense." you warned. Max shut the light and the both of you walked down the empty office to the front door where you tried to open it. But, it wouldn't budge. It was stuck. Your movements became erratic as you tried to yank it open, your fingers clenched tightly around the handle. "Um, it won't open." you said hesitantly, beginning to panic and use all your upper body strength to try and push the lock back. You had remembered the door had been on its last legs for quite some time now… but of course it would only be your luck for it to finally give way on New Year's Eve.

"Let me try." You stepped back and watched as Max jiggled the lock a little. He looked up and down at the door, trying to gauge its sturdiness before slamming his full body into the wooden frame and breaking it down. You screamed, your eyes going comically wide as the door shattered into a million splintered pieces. Max brushed his fitted suit down like nothing had even happened.

"What the-" you gasped, your voice turning incredulously high pitched. "How did you do that?"

"Uh, just a simple shift of weight," Max said, analysing the damage done.

"Gosh, it's like you have super strength or something." you started pointedly at the mess on the floor, your gaze flicking between the rubble and your boss who was just waiting for you to follow him outside.

"...or something," he muttered when you eventually stepped over the mess and walked with him to the parking lot. Max Phillips was not your ordinary guy by any means. He'd love for you to one day learn the truth about him, but for now he'd have to tackle one step at a time and all he could think about was the possibility of finally admitting his feelings to you.

You slid into the passenger's seat of Max's car and he followed behind you. As he turned on the exhaust, you pulled down the interior mirror and padded out the little snowflakes which had fluttered into your hair. As you fixed your appearance, you noticed Max was staring at you from the corner of his eye, trying to be discreet. He waited until you had finished before he started to drive.

The drive was filled with a comfortable silence, the car radio quietly humming in the background as you glanced outside, unable to contain your smile. There was just something so beautiful about this time of year. You loved seeing the way the ground was lapped with snow and the trees which stood tall and bare. It was magical.

Max finally pulled up as close to the firework display as he could get— although it was still around a ten minute walk away. You both slid out of the car, immediately shivering as the cold winter air once again hit you. "Definitely wasn't planning on doing this tonight," Max admitted with a light chuckle.

"You know? Me neither," You laughed back. "Otherwise I would've brought my gloves."

Truthfully, Max didn't feel the cold. There was something about him… it was like he was always cold and so the winter air didn't bother him as much as it would bother anyone else. Max slipped his hand into yours, his fingers curling around yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. You felt your heart rate increase speed under his touch and you looked up at him with confused, glazed eyes.

"Transferring just a little body heat," he explained, but cursed himself as soon as the words left his lips. Who speaks like that? Could he not have just admitted that he's been wanting to hold your hand for what feels like forever? You nodded unknowingly and shot him an adorable grin.

You both walked through the thick snow, hand in hand, and Max paid extra care to make sure you wouldn't slip over on the black ice. Those heels you were wearing looked like a nightmare to walk in. He had your back, and for the first time in forever, you genuinely felt protected.

You spotted your family immediately once you arrived at the display, smiling and shouting them over. Max nervously followed behind you, his hands in his coat pockets. "Hey, I thought you couldn't make it." your mom grinned, pulling you into a comforting hug.

"Well we figured something out," you laughed. "This is my boss by the way, Max Phillips."

Your family and Max exchanged pleasantries as you waited for the display to start. "I'm going to get some hot cocoa from the vendor over there," Max announced. "Does anyone want anything?"

Your family said no but you asked him politely for a cup of your favourite hot beverage. "So," your mother cooed. "What's the deal with you two?"

"What do you mean?" you asked with a quirked eyebrow, but you knew what her tone suggested.

"Are you kidding? I see the way he looks at you!" Your mom explained and you felt a flush of heat swamp across your cheeks.

"I really don't think he feels that way about me," you scoffed and your mother emitted a small hum. "We're just friends and uh… colleagues."

Max came back and handed you your hot drink. You hummed in delight as you nursed the cup, the heat warming your hands and the smell enticing you.

The firework display began, bolts of pretty colours shooting up into the air and exploding into magic. You leaned your head into the crook of Max's shoulder as you both watched the night sky explode into colour. It was awe-inspiring.

Your mother tapped you on the shoulder, interrupting your moment. "The kids are cold," she explained. "I think we're going to head home early and watch the countdown to midnight on the television. You and Max are more than welcome to join us."

You turned to Max, wanting to know what he thought. He dropped a hand to your wrist. "Uh actually, could we have a moment of privacy?" he raised an eyebrow and you hesitantly nodded your head. Your mother smiled understandingly and waved you both goodbye.

"So," you hummed, gently rocking backwards and forwards, a slight awkwardness in your body language.

"I've never actually seen fireworks in real life before." Max admitted.

"Really?" you felt your eyes widen in surprise and Max nodded. "You know Max, I've always thought you were like an enigma. Mystery man. There's so much I don't know about you, but then sometimes, you come out with the most random things."

"Well, what do you want to know?" Max asked.

You thought for a second. "I want to know why you invited me to your office on New Year's Eve, only to let me go home after all. I don't understand. I finished the sales project, done all the work you asked of me…"

Max sighed, cutting you off. "I know," he said. "It wasn't for a work thing…"

You furrowed your eyebrows together in bewilderment, waiting for him to continue. "Countdown to midnight in one minute!" the announcer yelled and everyone around you screamed.

"The truth is, I had to tell you something. Something I've been keeping to myself for a long time," Max began to explain. He felt himself getting nervous but he knew he had to do his best to shake off the anxiety. Now was a good of a time as any. "I like you," he admitted. "A lot. And I've liked you for a long time. And I'm not sure if you feel the same way but these feelings have been eating me up for what feels like an eternity… I never thought a man like me could fall in love but I'm pretty sure… I'm pretty sure I could be falling right now."

You were in complete disbelief. Your boss was admitting he had feelings for you this whole time?

"I invited you to my office because I wanted to tell you, but when I saw how upset you were with me… it put me off," Max sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. If it does, just let me know and we can forget all about it."

He was rambling on, he hadn't even noticed the countdown beginning.

10, 9, 8…

"But I don't want to forget. I want to go into this new year with you knowing exactly how I feel. I'd love to go into the new year with you by my side because shit… I've imagined it for so long,"

7, 6, 5…

"I'm not a perfect guy, in fact, there's a lot you need to know about me. But if you just give me one chance… I promise I won't mess it up,"

4, 3, 2…

"Please."

The crowds erupted into chaos as the final batch of fireworks exploded into the night sky. "Happy new year!" People cheered and screamed excitedly. You pressed your lips against Max's, unable to contain your smile. Your action took him by surprise. After a slight stumble backwards, he wrapped his arms around you and rested his palms on the small of your back.

"Happy new year," you mumbled against his lips.

"Happy new year," he replied, affectionately nudging the curve of his nose against yours.

"I love you too." And with your confession, Max pulled you into another, deeper and more passionate kiss. You knew in that moment you'd be in for a great year ahead.

Taglists — let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #max phillips #max phillips x reader #new years eve #secret santa #blood sucking bastards #pedro pascal fic #Pedro pascal x you

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tired-college-student-writing · 4 years ago

Text

#WaynesAngel

The Maribat AU by @ozmav and @maribat-archive is all I can think about atm, so enjoy more of this

Summary- After Grayson posts a video on the wrong twitter, Damian feels like he should lose his social media privileges, and possibly his hand.

Part 1

Part 4

Part 5 (HERE)

This was a impusle write as I was trapped in a car for over 50 hours in three days. Please do not ask for another chapter.

_________________________________________

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Why is it weird that I’ve never met a Bat before? It’s not like Damian or the Waynes have ever seen Ladybug or Chat Noir or the Miraculous Team in Paris, and they’ve been in Paris a lot more than I’ve been in Gotham #confusion #AMERICAEXPLAIN

Jason Todd Lives @BestTodd

@FashionInGotham Whomst the Fuck is Ladybug and Chat Noir?? Also, Miraculous Team Sounds like some magical girl anime Cass watches

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd 🖕🏼

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve They’re the Paris superheroes, they showed up almost five years ago to fight the little bitch of a villain, Hawkmoth and his stupid peacock assistant, Mayra.

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve @ FashionInGotham WHAT?! Paris has heroes??

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve @ FashionInGotham @AFlyingGrayson Oh yeah, I forgot that the mayor was trying to keep it a secret from the rest of the world #MyB But yeah Ladybug and Chat Noir have been there the longest but there’s also Abeille, Viperion, Ryuko, Pegasus, King Monkey, Bunnyx, and Badulf

Chloe raised an eyebrow at her friend as she saw the tweet thread that was quickly going viral, “You realize my dad is going to flip about this.”

“He deserves it,” Adrian pipped up from where he was painstakingly painting Kagami’s nails a deep burgundy.

The other teen heroes hummed in agreement as Chloe huffed.

“Well Yeah, but I was hoping to do it with a little extra flair than a twitter thread.”

Alix snorted as she finished up Kim’s banana yellow toes, drawing a crude smiley face on his big toe with bright blue, “She’s dating the youngest kid of the most influential family in the world and has like 100 million followers. Plus she called Hawkmoth a little bitch and it already has 90k likes. I call that flair.”

It was a surprise when Nathanial had had his freak out during his second battle, against a Crimson Peacock event no less, and had called her Lady Marinette in front of the other temporary heroes, but had lead to many nights like the one they were having now. Onesies of each other’s heroes’ identities donned as they lounged around Chloe’s room, simply enjoying each other’s company after a long patrol. Chloe and Adrian had demanded they have a spa night, which is why everyone was either giving or receiving mani-pedis while they waited for their face masks to finish. It was nice, to have so much support outside of the masks, especially as they entered their final year in Lychee.

Marinette rolled her eyes, “It’s only 98 million, Alix, and plus I figured four months after I made this account was long enough to make the slip up seem genuine. We need to catch Hawkmoth soon, or else this entire mess will get a lot more complex.”

They all frowned as they realized the truth behind her words. They were all facing hard decisions if they couldn’t pin the man down, not like they hadn’t already sacrificed so much to continue the battle. Max had already turned down graduating early and a full ride to MIT, citing his desire to graduate with his friends before moving across the globe. Luka had been invited to tour with Jagged, only to politely decline, telling the pouting rockstar that he wanted to do some soul finding first. Kim had given up a summer training camp with the French Olympic team. Alix had given up going on an expedition with her dad and brother, missing out on the chance to explore the dunes of Egypt. Marinette had turned down three internships at this point, one from Audrey Bourgeois, One from Raven Baxter, and lastly and most devastatingly, one from Edna Mode.

They needed to end this, before the overwhelming feeling of their futures slipping right between their fingers got them akumatized.

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

Seeing the demon spawn panic when he realized @FasionInGotham isn’t any safer from maniacs in Paris then she is in Gotham is strangely endearing and vaguely terrifying #whyismyfamilylikethis

Duke of Hazard @DoneWithTheRich

@TJDrake Like you and Barb aren’t frantically searching for anything you can find on the Miraculous Team and these weird-ass butterfly dude.

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich Bugout.com, It’s in French but informative.

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich @CainYouBelieve How did you find this before Barbs and me????

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich @CainYouBelieve @TJDrake Alfred.

The news swept up the story in an instant and suddenly the whole world was demanding to know what the Parisian Mayor had been thinking and why the Justice League hadn’t been involved.

It wasn’t long until the entire Miraculous Team was seated in front of the Louvre. Countless new agencies from around the world were present, eager to hear the story of the sickeningly young-looking heroes, but the one video that received the most views was the shaky camera videos that were uploaded to Marinette’s Twitter, as they shortened the two-hour-long Press conference into manageable clips that highlighted the most important points.

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

Full Lineup, Damn. Haven’t seen that since the last time we had a Scarlet Moth incident. For those who need context, this is like seeing the entire founding Justice League together to us Parisians.

The clip attached showed A panning shot as they introduced all of the heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir sat in the center of the long table flanked by Vipirion, plucking his lyre absentmindedly, Abeille, glaring down her nose at the reporters, a beaming King Monkey waving excitedly, and an eerie serious Bunnyx sitting as still as a statue to their right, on their left was fierce-looking Ryuko looking ready to slice anyone who got too close, the calculating Pegasus, mumbling under his breath, and lastly the timid Badulf, struggling to keep his red bangs out of his eyes.

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

LMAO RYUKO #DRAGONQUEENSLAY

Don’t question Paris’ Heroes like that, they’re feisty.

The clip showed a British reporter demanding to know why the heroes hadn’t contacted the Justice League previously to gain their assistance in taking down the dangerous threat that was Hawkmoth.

You could Ladybug’s eye twitch at the condescending question, but before she could answer Ryuko leaned forward to the mic situated in front of her with a glint in her eyes.

“I apologize for my English,” She started, “I am not as versed in the language as some of my teammates. To answer your question on why we haven’t had the League’s help is because Green Lantern is a fuck.”

Silence filled the gathering before Chat, King Money and Bunnyx burst into giggles, the rest of the heroes struggling to keep a straight face. The media was staring at them dumbfounded until Ladybug finally leaned forward.

“I’m sorry for the outburst,” She started, lips still trying to twitch upwards, “But as Ryuko said we did ask for help. About five months into our heroship Chat and I received an answer from the League after trying for three months to contact them. The ‘help’ came in the form of Green Lantern coming and assessing the situation. Unfortunately for us, Hawkmoth is smart and when the neon green monstrosity of a hero flew in he laid low instead of attacking when a Leaguer was present. Without an attack and no physical damage present as one of my powers allows me to restore all damage done to Paris or its citizens, He decided we were powered children that were trying to get in the spotlight.”

“Getting lectured on wasting the League’s time and resources before he flew off really put a damper on us asking again,” Chat added in, toxic green eyes narrowed and laser-focused on the reporter, “So we handled it ourselves, gaining our own allies as we needed them. But please continue telling us how the League could have helped sooner if only we had asked for help.”

Clip after clip, ten of them total were uploaded into the thread. Explaining the worst battle the heroes had ever faced, the strength of their enemy, what the villain and his assistance could and would do, the worst attacks, the easiest wins, the ways that Ladybug and Chat chose their allies, but the last two clips seemed to get the largest reaction out of the audience, both at the press conference and the internet.

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Not gonna lie, seeing my tormentors get put on blast by all of the Heroes is very vindictive #IsthatMean? #MaybeSo

“You’ve seemed to have shifted your support away from one local blog, to another over any official news agency,” One of the nicer reporters at the events said, “Is there a particular reason? And why the sudden shift two years ago?”

Chat’s face was strangely pinched, “Oh you mean why we switched from giving exclusives to the LadyBlog to BugOut? It’s quite simple. We go to the news sources we trust to take the information we are willing to give without worrying about ratings as their top priority. We tried going to Nadja Chamack at first, the local news anchor that we all hold a great deal of respect for, but the producers threatened her to get a ‘highly-rated’ interview. It led to her asking questions Ladybug and I thought were counterproductive to the reason we were invited to the interview and was trying to turn us into celebrities instead of allowing us to do the jobs we needed to. It was a similar reason we stopped going to Alya Cesaire, the Ladyblog editor.”

Ladybug took over here, “Miss Cesaire has the ability to be a very good journalist, but as her blog grew in popularity, so did her need for highly viewed content, this caused her to not only start posting more rumors and speculation than anything we’ve ever said but also to stop fact-checking with us things she heard. Even after talking to her about removing the content that was blatantly untrue and was told no due to the high ratings it had received we realized that we simply couldn’t work with her anymore.”

Abeille piped up in a low regal voice that was dripping with venom, “It really didn’t help that when we started interviewing with Aurora Beaureal from BugOut, shortly after my introduction, Miss Cesaire began a smear campaign against her, claiming she was faking her sources and videos publicly on her blog. Luckily we were able to shut that down quickly enough but it didn’t stop Miss. Cesaire from running into battle to distract us, and frankly, harass us for answers even after we told her no. It’s lead to more than one incident where she, other civilians, and even ourselves have been hurt.”

“Either way,” Chat took over again, “We want to support local news sources but only when they are willing to listen to our boundaries and work with us instead of trying to push issues.”

“Does that mean that info we found on the Ladyblog is not to be believed?” Another reporter called out.

“I would take anything after the first post about Lila Rossi with a grain of salt,” Ladybug said, only for King Monkey to snort and lean towards the mic.

“Yeah and if Lila Rossi is mentioned at all in the post just assume everything in that post is fake. Miss. Rossi is a known liar and problem for us.”

“Can you give us an example?”

Ladybug sighed before explaining, “The first time I heard of Miss. Rossi was an interview on the Ladyblog of her claiming to be my best friend. Now I very much value the secrecy I and my team have created for ourselves because it protects our friends and families, but even a lie about knowing me in such a public setting is dangerous because Hawkmoth and Mayra have proven that they aren’t above underhanded tactics to try and get the upper hand in our fights. I went looking for the girl to explain why she can’t say such things for her own safety, only to find her telling a boy that she possessed the Fox Miraculous in a public park. I will admit I called her out in a way that wasn’t very nice but either claim was enough to put her in danger, but both were painting a target on her back and it scared me that someone would do something to impress a boy. After that, she was akumatized for the first time and since then it has gotten even worse despite me apologizing the second I cured the Akuma. Some of her lies are enough to count as Slander if any of the celebrities she lied about knowing saw the posts, but no amount of persuasion seems to get her to stop.”

Wayne’s Angel @FasioninGotham

Watching their powers without the looming threat of an Akuma/Amok is a blessing. They look so cool! #Love #Miraculous

The clip started with the heroes standing in front of the table, grouped differently than before. Off to one side King Monkey, Viperion and Bunnyx stood, Viperion holding a microphone.

“While we would love to an demonstrate our powers as requested,” He explained, “Our powers are not really good for demonstrations. Mine is known as Second Chance.”

He raised his hand and pulled the slider across his bracelet as he named it, a flash of pale teal light admitting from it, “When activated like I just did, it allows me to return to the point of activation at any time before I detransform in fifteen minutes as many times as I wish with only myself remembering the previous changes I have made.”

Without even acknowledging the startled whispers from the crowd, he handed the microphone to King Monkey, who offered a cheeky smile.

“So my power is called Uproar. It allows me to create a toy-like object that when it comes into contact with someone causes all of their abilities to malfunction.”

He goes to pull his staff from where it was strapped to his back only for Vipirion to stop him. A silent exchange passed between the pair before the taller hero nodded and handed the microphone off to Bunnyx.

“Viperion and I have a similar reason for our powers being hard to show off, only his is a little more versatile,” She started in a voice devoid of any emotion, swinging her pocket watch slightly, “I have the power Burrow. It allows me, and anyone I chose to take with me, access to a pocket dimension where I can travel to any point in time or space that I chose, past, present, or future. While you might see me fight during any battle I can make it to, my power is a last-ditch effort, as I would have to travel back in time to change the past if I do this assume the future is unsavable.”

The hush that falls over the crowd was quickly broken by Ryuko tapping her group’s microphone to draw attention to the opposite side of the stage where she stood with Abeille, Badulf, Pegasus, Chat, and Ladybug.

“I believe it’s best to not dwell on any one of our powers,” She told them, “Our powers are scary and knowing that they can be taken from us at any time and used for nefarious purposes keep all of us up at night, but we ask you to trust us to use them only for good.”

She waited a moment for the crowd o calm down before giving her own explanation, “My ability is known as the Three Dragons, the Water Dragon, the Wind Dragon, and the Lightning Dragon.”

She handed off the microphone to Pegasus, before calling forth the Wind Dragon and bursting into a group of clouds that swiftly blew around the stage before traveling over to the Louvre Pyramid and watching as the heroine reformed at the top, offering a small wave before the call for Water Dragon could be heard and a large dome of water formed over the entire courtyard.

Before she could call for her last form the snake hero grabbed the microphone, “Lightning Dragon is a bad idea, Ryuko.”

The heroine didn’t even question him, instead, vaulting off of the pyramid, the crowed gasped only for her to effortlessly land next to Bunnyx in a crouch, brushing herself off as she rose and turned her gaze to the horse miraculous user, who quickly explained his power before calling forth Voyage.

His cry caused blue light to circle his arm and he sent it towards the top of the still-present water dome, with a controlled flick of his arm.

The heroes didn’t even blink as the crowd filled with cries as the Eiffel Tower fell through the portal, Ladybug’s yoyo whipping out to direct it’s decent, the entire courtyard shaking as the 10k ton structure landed.

“I’m up next!” Chat called out with a large grin, while the reporters didn’t seem to know if they should pay attention to the moved monument or the hero. His explanation was short since they were many videos of him using it but that didn’t stop the international reporters from screaming as Cataclysm swirled around his hand eating away at the Eiffel Tower, leaving a pile of rust in the crater

“Is-Is this much property damage necessary?”

Abeille shrugged, “No, but once we get to Ladybug, it’ll make more sense. Either way my turn.”

An unpleasant chill went up the world’s spine as she demonstrated how she could freeze all voluntary movement of her target on Chat Noir, who was still as a statue the second her stinger touched him.

Ladybug quickly took the mic and began explaining her powers. The world watched in amazement at her pulling a red and black spotted camera from thin air before she launched it into the air with a cheer of “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Suddenly a glowing swarm of ladybugs formed and tore through the air, covering Chat Noir, releasing from Venom, before healing the crater and rust from nearby, dissolving the water dome in the same instance.

If there hadn’t been so many people present the world wouldn’t have believed that so much damage was just repaired in the span of ten seconds, but staring at the unimpressed Parisians around them the world finally seemed to grasp the reality of the situation.

These children were past what one would even expect from metas, from aliens and superhumans like they had seen around the world already. These were heroes that were harnessing the very forces that made up the universe and fighting them at the same time. Bunnyx wasn’t exaggerating when she mentioned that sometimes there would be apocalyptic endings to their fights.

Instead of letting the knowledge stew Badulf step forwarded, twisting the microphone as he explained his power of illusions for the reporters.

With a short tune on his flute suddenly the group of heroes was gone, All that remained was a Sign thanking them all for coming. Even after the illusion faded the heroes were nowhere to be found, having used the final demonstration as the perfect cover to sneak away so that no one could follow them.

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

I must say I was not expecting such an outpour of love for all of Our heroes but damn am I pleased by it. Ladybug is our big name but the others are honestly way underloved in Paris, especially Chat who’s been there since the beginning. #MiraculousTeam

Quick Poll Who’s your favorite, everyone? Mine’s Chat Noir

Ryuko (19%)

Abeille (12%)

Ladybug (14%)

Bunnyx (8%)

Viperion (12%)

Chat Noir (15%)

Pegasus (5%)

King Monkey (5%)

Badulf (10%)

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@FashionInGotham I like Badulf, he’s the newest correct?

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @CainYouBelieve Yup! He’s only been around for four months, but he’s a pretty great fox!

Tim Drake Official @TJDrake

Fun Fact: I just heard Alfred swear for the first time while watching the press conference and it was to call Hawkmoth and Mayra an arsehole FLOB and his fucking Slag.

Never been more terrified,

Based on the faces around me neither has any of the other Waynes #AlfredisTerrifying

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Why am I the go to person for everything Mircualous Team? BugOut.com is a great source if you want more info.

Still Queen Bee @BuzzBuzz

@FashionInGotham Probably cause you're most famous Parsian? Or cause you were a miraculous user once?

Jason Todd Lives@BestTodd

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz IM SORRY?? DID YOU JUST SAY MARIGOLD HAD ONE OF THOSE MAGIC FUCKING GEMS???

Wayne's Angel @FasionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz @BestTodd That didn't come up in the conference did it? A few of the old users of miraculous got outed as heros so LB doesn't call on them anymore, but keeps tabs on them since HM and Mayra will try and emotionally malipulate them into getting akumatized. A few of us bonded over it.

Still Queen Bee @BuzzBuzz

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz @BestTodd @FashionInGotham Its common knowledge in Paris, Mari, me and our other friend @NotaModel all had miraculous at one point, but HawkBitch found out so we can't ever use a miraculous again sadly. I had the Bee, Mari had the Mouse and Ari had the Snake

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

Why is Damian staring at a wall and not responding? What broke him? #Help???

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

@AFlyingGrayson Nevermind #HecouldnthaveanormalGF? #HolyShitMari

Wayne's Angel @FasionInGotham

So I can no longer say I've never seen a Bat before, just saw Signal and Red Robin, I think???

Gonna be real tho, I was expecting to see them in Gotham, NOT PARIS #wtf #Whyaretheyhere????

Marinette had barely sent the tweet before her phone was ringing.

"Are you being serious?" Adrian asked, in lieu of a greeting, "At least two of the Batfam is here?"

"Yeah," She whispered a bit numbly, eyes still focused on the roof she had watched them disappear from mere moments ago. It was far enough away that if she had been a normal human she wouldn't have heard them, but she wasn't a normal human, "Hey Adrian, Don't tell the team what I'm about to say, okay?"

"Are you okay, bugaboo?"

"Questionable," She didn't even bother rebuking the nickname, "I think I might be dating a Bat."

______________________________________

Taglist: @kceedraws @northernbluetongue @starry-bi-sky @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @lexysama @vincentvangoose @theatreandcomicfreak @vinerlover @calvin1394 @interobanginyourmom @imanerddealwith @aarushi-03 @rikku052 @fantasticfourintraining @clumsy-owl-4178 @two-faced-biatch @celestiacq @vgirl-10123 @peculiarlylostdreamer @tinybrie @treebrosha @sam-spectra @zalladane @teresarosiadeviluke2112 @7-sage-7 @blue-peach14 @nataladriana9 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @xxmadamjinxx @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @i-identify-as-a-mango @chloe-bourgeois-is-big-gay @vixen-uchiha @face-of-lazyness @lunar-wolf-warrior @derpingrainbow @drama-queen-supreme @vivilakitty @mystery-5-5 @synnesstra @ijustwannabecanadian @sharksharkbb @lysslovsanime @zazzlejazzle @corabeth11 @ur-average-reader @virgil-is-a-cutie @paradoxal-occurance @dur55 @this-is-vander @cowardlygaydinosaur @phantomneow12 @numbuh-7-knd @slytherinhquinn @celerystick045 @silvergold-swirl @dzcile @lordsmeldingtonthethird @asabella1224 @miraculous-simmer7 @god-is-dead-and-so-am-i @kuhakuanon @st0rmy-w1th1n @littleredrobinhoodlum @todaylillypads @screechingflapbiscuitpeach @a-complete-fool @urbanpineapplefarmer @woodland-queer @miraculousl4dybug @teresarosiadeviluke2112 @imanerddealwith @seraphichana @literalfantrash @zebrabaker @captainmac6

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artificialqueens · 3 years ago

Text

Galactica, Chapter 61 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet opened up, Alaska chickened out, and Courtney finally had her date with Bianca.

This Chapter: Trixie widens his search for Aiden’s replacement, and Courtney gets a taste of the good life.

***

Courtney doodled absentmindedly on her notepad during Miss Fame’s Monday conference call. She was getting an update from the company that ran her European stores, and discussing the upcoming marketing plan with Alyssa. Courtney knew that she was only there in case Miss Fame wanted to add anyone to the line; since Ivy and Laganja were both on the call, she didn’t really need to be paying attention. She probably should’ve been anyway, but this was a case where a little negligence would be forgiven.

Which was good, because she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering, daydreaming about how wonderful the weekend had been with Bianca. Adore had come over on Sunday for dinner, after which Courtney almost went home, but Bianca pulled her in for an embrace and insisted that she stay another night. When she’d worried about not having any appropriate work clothes, Bianca promised to find her something from her own closet, even excited at the notion of styling her for the office.

At first, Courtney was a bit concerned about whether the thigh-high black boots were too hookerish, but Bianca was adamant that they were fashion - and she should know, right? At least her luxurious knit dress was in Fame’s approved color palette, so she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get scolded like the time she dared to wear a lime green top.

She looked down at her notebook, realizing that it was absolutely covered in hearts, and quickly flipped the page, embarrassed.

She clicked on her mouse, waking up the computer to check her emails. If she was gonna space out, she may as well make at least a halfhearted attempt at productivity. She saw that there were a few unread DMs and clicked on the window.

ROXY: Package here for you

ROXY: A big-ass box from Neiman Marcus

ROXY: From the Marie Claire messenger again

ROXY: You gonna tell me who you’re dating over there now?

COURTNEY: LOL, sorry. It’s brand new, I don’t think we’re ready to go public

ROXY: Bitch it’s just me, I can keep a secret

COURTNEY: Since when?????

ROXY: Since always!!

COURTNEY: On Friday, you told me that Jaida is getting IVF and Alyssa’s son is in rehab again

ROXY: Yeah and yet you tell me NOTHING

COURTNEY: LOL. Okay well when we’re telling people, I’ll tell you first. Deal?

ROXY: WHATEVER

ROXY: Another major delivery came for Fame’s asst from MC today

SHANNEL: OMG. BDR just came into Nina’s office in the weirdest mood. She was all smiley and she approved this dumb spread that Nina’s been pitching for 3 months.

ROXY: 21 year old pussy is good for the soul

SHANNEL: APPARENTLY

The second she could get up, Courtney raced to reception to grab the package, wondering what it could be. They’d put together a bunch of outfits with the stylist this weekend, most of which were still at Bianca’s--except for her ensemble for the party tomorrow, which was hanging in a garment bag on the coat rack, partially covered by Courtney’s jacket so as not to be too conspicuous.

When Roxy said “a big-ass box,” she wasn’t lying. Courtney’s eyes widened as she spotted the box, quickly taking it back to her own office, peeking inside while Fame was occupied with Raja. She pulled out the note first.

Stay warm. XX, B PS Don’t worry, the fur is faux

Extra curious now, Courtney reached into the box, lifting the tissue paper to see what was inside and finally just pulling it out--a beautiful, full-length, raspberry-colored winter coat with a fur-trimmed hood. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head as the utter extravagance of it all.

COURTNEY: OMG Bianca!

BIANCA: Do you like it?

COURTNEY: It’s beautiful! But it’s way too much. You’re spoiling me.

BIANCA: Get used to it ;)

Courtney smiled to herself, hiding the box under the table and standing to try on the coat, positively glowing with happiness. She glanced at herself in the mirror that Fame kept by the door for “last looks,” and saw that it fit her perfectly, even across her narrow shoulders, almost as if it was tailored to her body. Which...now that she thought about it, the stylist on Saturday had taken her measurements, so maybe it was.

Just then, the door to Fame’s office opened and Raja stepped out. Courtney whirled around, a guilty expression on her face.

“Oh are...are you done? I was, um...just going to get Miss Fame another coffee.”

“Yeah, we’re done for now, you should probably stick around. Nice coat,” Raja said, brushing past her on her way out. “I’ll be back at 2 to finish. Make sure she’s fed.”

“Okay, thank-” Courtney began, finishing with “-you,” just as Raja breezed from the room.

Courtney slowly removed her new coat, hanging it carefully on the rack before heading into Miss Fame’s office to ask what she wanted for lunch.

***

Bob closed the door to Trixie’s office behind him, making a beeline towards the coffee machine. It was mid afternoon, and while there still was a bit of a home stretch to go before the holiday break, the tough decisions ahead were out of his hands.

“All I’m saying Chachki,” Jovan smiled, the man leaning against the wall. He was wearing orange trumpet pants and a blue fuzzy sweater. “Is that I can totally bedazzle your crutches.”

“What an amazing offer,” Violet drawled, her tone completely dry.

“Hey guys!” Bob grinned, sliding in next to Maxwell, his boyfriend handing the cup he had just poured. “What are we talking about?”

“The Christmas Party,” Maxwell smiled, looking up at Bob who gave him a quick peck. He was wearing a pink shirt, the cotton stretched across his chest, the khakis he wore all year looking delicious on his pert little ass.

“Right!” Bob took a sip. The Galactica Christmas Party was one of the biggest fashion events in December, Miss Fame always going all out. Bob had heard rumors around town that there’d be gigantic ice sculptures, but Roxy had told him she had seen order confirmations for a forest of Christmas trees.

Some called him and Roxy the office gossip sluts, and if the name fit, Bob wasn’t going to complain.

“I haven’t decided what I’m wearing yet.” Violet was sitting on a chair, her curled hair fastened with a golden clip, her skirt just above her knees. “This is the first time I’m not going as Fame’s assistant and I don’t have to match her or blend into the background.”

That made sense, Bob really noticing how Violet’s wardrobe had shifted from the uptight prissy bitch who had first entered their floor, more color and sharp cuts showing up in Violet’s clothes as she got to express herself more and more.

“But since there’s a good chance she’ll actually look at me since I’m going with Sutan, I have to stay on theme without being flashy or cheap or one of the million other things she refuses to accept.”

“The bedazzling offer still stands,” Jovan smiled, taking the last bite of his afternoon muffin, and Violet rolled her eyes.

“How did you two meet anyway?” Maxwell took a sip of his coffee. “You and Sutan I mean.”

Bob perked up immediately, his stomach doing a happy flip.

“Oh?” Violet looked surprised, like she genuinely hadn’t expected them to be interested. “You want to hear about that?”

“Yes!” Bob grinned. “Yes yes yes yes.”

He and Maxwell had been discussing how to get Violet to spill the dirt the entire week, and now, the chance was finally here.

“Well.” Violet paused, tapping her fingers on the table, like she was trying to decide if she should share, and Bob was about to burst with curiosity.

“Spill it!”

“He bought me a drink at the Vogue Fashion Fund, and asked me on a date a few days later.”

Bob waited for a beat, but Violet was simply smiling.

“What?! That’s it?!”

Of all the things Bob had imagined, this was by far the most disappointing answer.

“Pretty much.” Violet shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee with a glint in her eyes.

***

IVY: okay so you know i hate gossip

ROXY: Oh yeah me too gurl

IVY: lol

IVY: No really

ROXY: Yeah yeah whatcha got?

IVY: The dress Courtney’s wearing today?

ROXY: Oh yeah, she’s really upping her game

IVY: Well...it’s familiar…

ROXY: Oh yeah?

IVY: I asked Laganja to run some photos. Here’s BDR at last year’s Monsoon Foundation Charity Luncheon

[Picture: Bianca wearing the dress]

ROXY: BITCH!!!!!!!!111

***

“So yeah, these are the ones I like...what do you think?” Trixie asked, chewing nervously on the inside of his cheek. “I really need to find someone that Fame will love, she was so annoyed at the last batch.”

As Pearl picked up one of the portfolios to glance through it, she couldn’t help but notice how rough her friend looked, like he hadn’t slept in a week. He probably hadn’t, she realized, the tension in the apartment so thick you could cut it with a knife. She’d been trying to give them both space, but maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

“So, um…” She looked through the first portfolio and then picked up the next one, pausing on pages she found interesting. “Is everything okay? How are you?”

“Uhh…” Trixie scratched his head, then finally said, “It’s been a hard week.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay,” Trixie sighed. “We’ve got our- She’s got an appointment with a doctor tomorrow. So I guess, after that, we’ll know for sure.”

“Right.”

He didn’t seem to want to talk about it any more, so Pearl dropped the subject for the moment. She pointed to one of the photos, a stunning blue piece with dramatic shoulders, exactly the type of shapes to which Fame was generally drawn.

“This is amazing.”

“Yeah, right? She seems super talented, although I worry that she’s only been out of school for less than a year. A little green, a little…” Trixie sighed again, “Over-confident sounds mean, but…over-confident.”

“Have you spoken to all of them yet?”

“Yeah, Rita checked all their references and I had Skype interviews with all the top candidates this morning. We’re trying to move quickly, I really need to get the ball rolling before we shut down for the holidays. And with the added bonus of getting them a visa...it could be a mess. Anyway, these are the very best, but I don’t want to put them in front of Fame unless they’re actually gonna impress her.”

“Uh huh. One question though…”

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for another sociopath, or are we moving in a new direction?” Pearl asked, a teasing smirk on her face.

“You’re hilarious,” Trixie deadpanned.

“I know.” Pearl tapped on the folder, saying, “I think this one is special. There’s a lot of range, and new ideas, but very classic and chic at the same time.”

***

“Ho...ly shit…” Bianca said, the door to her town car open, watching Courtney twirl in her new coat, then open it to give her a peek at the sexy sequined mini-dress underneath. Bianca pulled her into the car, giggling, a hand immediately sliding up her bare thigh.

She was mildly surprised when her fingers came into contact with soft cotton instead of the sexy lace she’d been wearing.

“Wow, these feel...breathable.”

Courtney laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m out of fancy underwear until my next trip to the laundromat. Sorry about it.”

“Nah, I like them. Reminds me of college.” She flashed a grin at Courtney, who was now straddling her on the leather seat, arms around her neck.

“Yeah?” Courtney tilted her head, teasingly evading a kiss as Bianca chased her lips.

“Mmm…” Bianca’s fingers slipped into the panties, squeezing her ass.

“I like this, too…” Bianca’s own coat was unbuttoned since the driver had the heat on full blast, and Courtney ran her thumb along the neckline of her blazer. “You look so sexy…”

Bianca said nothing, just gave her a wicked smirk, lips finally coming into contact with her neck, lingering there, hot breath against her pulse point making her whimper.

“We should probably wait until after the-” Courtney inhaled sharply, clutching Bianca’s shoulders. “-after the party.”

“Alright, alright…” Bianca acquiesced, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and removing her hands. “I can be good if you can.”

“Debatable,” Courtney responded, her eyes flashing with a naughty glint as she sat down beside Bianca, snuggling up against her.

“It’ll be a fun little experiment.”

***

Violet was standing in Sutan’s closet in her pajamas, flipping through her clothes, her lip between her teeth.

None of it looked right, and Violet had given up on even trying on the dress she had originally gotten to go as Fame’s assistant, the skirt's mermaid cut making it impossible to move in with her crutches.

If her foot hadn’t been broken, she would have trawled her preferred vintage shops weeks ago, or would even have made a dress herself, but the party was in two days, and because of Bianca’s birthday, she couldn’t even empty her savings account to get a dress that could live up to the expectations of a Galactica party.

She was completely, and utterly, fucked.

“Fuck,” Violet sighed, dumping down in the arm chair Sutan had been sweet enough to move to his closet so she could sit.

“Violet? Are you okay?”

Violet cursed to herself, Sutan naturally catching her at a moment where it absolutely did not suit her.

“I’m okay!”

But of course, it wasn’t in Sutan’s nature to leave her alone, her boyfriends head poking through the door seconds later, a concerned expression on his dumb face.

“What’s gotten into you?” Sutan was fresh from the shower, his black and grey hair in an unstyled cloud around his head.

“You’re going to laugh.” Violet crossed her arms, the annoyance still under her skin, rolling around her body.

“Try me.” Sutan stepped inside, a towel wrapped around his hips, his hand holding it in place.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

Sutan snorted, and Violet pointed at him.

“See!” She exclaimed. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Okay, okay, I admit that wasn’t my greatest moment,” Sutan chuckled, giving her a quick apology kiss, Violet sinking back into the chair as he walked over to his dresser. “but the good news is that your problem is easily fixable.”

“I can’t just go out and buy a new dress.” Violet tried not to roll her eyes, tried not to make this a fight, but it was like Sutan had decided to press every single button she had. “I can’t afford it.”

Sure, she had gotten a pay bump after moving to design, but she had already used her December budget on Christmas gifts for everyone, actually spending the day with people so much more expensive than what she usually did, which was a movie on her ancient laptop and wine by herself.

“Who says you have to pay for it?” Sutan pulled a pair of pajama pants out, throwing his towel to the side, now naked which would have been weird if Violet hadn’t been used to years of dressing rooms. “I’m planning on getting a new suit anyway,” Sutan balanced on one leg, pulling the pants on, “and the shoppers at Barney’s are great at what they do.”

“Are you serious?”

“What makes you think I’m not?” Violet watched as Sutan pulled a t-shirt on too, running a hand through the hair Violet knew he’d struggle to style in the morning, but that he was also done dealing with it for the night.

“I don’t want your money.” Violet sighed, sitting up in the chair, Sutan finally ready for bed.

She liked staying with Sutan, she really did, the man kinder and more generous than Violet could ever have imagined, but she was also longing to go back to her own place, to have her own space and to spend time completely alone.

She knew her apartment wasn’t much, that it didn’t have air condition or an elevator, that she didn’t have a memory foam mattress or a dishwasher or a housekeeper that came to clean, but it was hers.

Violet knew a psychiatrist would probably consider her need for independence a flaw, something she should work on, but she didn’t want to rely on anyone ever, not even Sutan.

“I can figure it out.”

“Oh that, I don’t doubt,” Sutan smiled, holding a hand out to help Violet out of the chair. “But there is a difference,” Sutan pulled, his hand finding her hip as soon as she was upright. “Between being prideful and being stubborn, lovely eyes.”

Violet shot him a look, and Sutan laughed, giving her nose a quick kiss.

“I’m offering to buy you dresses, not a penthouse.”

Violet opened her mouth to protest, but for once, Sutan was faster.

“You’re going to several parties for my sake. Let me spend money on you.” Sutan rubbed his thumb up and down, gently caressing Violet’s hip. “Please?”

“I’ll consider it.”

***

Being at this elite music industry party with Bianca was thrilling, and Courtney was on cloud nine. She was beside herself with excitement when she got to meet Charlie Hides, unable to stop herself from gushing about her work on Tove Lo’s album.

“Well thank you, darling,” Charlie said.

“Courtney’s a singer too,” Bianca added, and Charlie’s face perked up a bit.

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, aspiring,” Courtney couldn’t help admitting, immediately kicking herself for her inability to fake it.

“She’s incredibly talented,” Bianca said, a hand touching Courtney’s elbow, grounding her.

“You should send me your demo,” Charlie said, picking up two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handing them over.

“Really? Thank you so much!” Courtney exclaimed, momentarily forgetting that she didn’t have a demo.

“Sure thing,” Charlie said with a grin, before excusing herself to greet another guest. Before she left, she gave Bianca a hug, muttering, “Very cute, B.”

After she walked away, Bianca turned to Courtney with a smirk. “She’s subtle, huh?”

“I think I’m gonna pass out,” Courtney said, and Bianca squeezed her hand.

“You’ll be fine. You’re doing great,” she assured her. “I see another producer I know, let’s say hello. Olivia!”

She waved across the party to a beautiful Black woman with the most fabulous hair Courtney had ever seen in her life. The woman looked up, sending Bianca a beaming smile as she crossed the room to greet her.

“Bianca!”

“Hey Liv, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Bianca said, giving her a hug.

“I know! I’ve been in L.A. for most of the year. Just decided to come back to New York in time for this delightful gray sleet we’ve been having,” Olivia said, that dazzling smile softening her words.

Bianca laughed, turning to Courtney.

“Court, Olivia Lux is an awesome producer. Liv, this my friend Courtney. She’s a singer.”

“Hi!” Courtney prepared for a handshake or some air kisses, only to be swept up into a warm hug. “So nice to meet you!”

“Charlie wants to hear a demo, but she hasn’t gotten the chance to record anything yet,” Bianca said. “Any chance you’re free? Or are you still booked up solid until the end of days?”

“No, I’ve got some time in January. What kind of music do you do, sweetie?” Olivia asked, turning to Courtney with that lovely smile.

“Um… Well, I guess it’s kind of like… Pop, but kind of folk?” Courtney said, trying to think on her feet. “Like Joni Mitchell meets Kylie Minogue?”

“Sounds absolutely glorious!” Olivia said, and Courtney felt her confidence grow. “I know what it’s like when you’re starting out. That shit is terrifying.”

“I’m gonna go grab us some drinks…You two have fun,” Bianca said, leaving Courtney Olivia to talk shop.

After a couple of minutes, Courtney found herself feeling like she was with an old friend. She was just so warm and open, telling Courtney about her own career as first a recording artist, then a producer and composer, making her feel completely at ease--and shockingly interested in Courtney’s own musical taste. When Bianca returned with three cocktails, Olivia put an arm around Courtney and told her, “I’m in love with your friend.”

“Oh yeah?” Bianca said, amused. She handed them both drinks, adding, “Glad you guys are getting along.”

“Getting along? We’re gonna elope,” Olivia said, and Courtney giggled, smiling brightly, happy to have found someone so kind and down to earth.

“Mazel Tov,” said Bianca, giving Courtney a wink.

“Seriously though,” Olivia said, turning to flash Courtney that megawatt smile again. “Why don’t you hit me up and we’ll arrange for you to come into the studio?”

“That would be amazing!” said Courtney. She was so happy, she had to fight an urge to kiss the bottom of Olivia’s glittery heels.

“Perfect!” Olivia said, leaving them both with another round of hugs.

“That went well,” Bianca said, smirking at Courtney over the top of her glass.

“Yeah!”

“Come on, I want you to meet my friend Derrick. She’s a choreographer…”

Later, after about the 20th intro, Courtney began to catch on to a troubling pattern.

“Hey guys! This is my friend Courtney…”

“Meet my friend Courtney…”

“Courtney’s a friend of my sister.”

Friend, friend, friend...

At no point, to anyone, did Bianca say (or even imply) that there was something going on between them-- and Courtney wasn’t sure what to make of it. It wasn’t like she expected for Bianca to call her “my girlfriend.”

They hadn’t had that conversation, and something told Courtney that after tonight, it was a long way off.

She tried to put it right out of her head, though, and focus on the positive. She was at a great party, meeting a ton of music industry professionals, and yeah, maybe Bianca called her “friend” about 800 times, but friends were good, right? Especially considering how much Bianca loved her friends.

She continued to enjoy herself, greeting people, trying her best to learn their names, and just being grateful that Bianca had even brought her through the door. So what if she didn’t want people to know about their relationship? Or if this was just a casual fling for her? She was still doing more for Courtney and being more supportive than anyone she’d ever known.

It was close to 2 am when Bianca put a hand on her lower back and leaned in close--the most intimate gesture since they’d walked in the door.

“You ready to take off?” Bianca whispered.

“Sure,” Courtney said, slightly relieved since she could feel her own energy fading, and knew that making it to work by 7:45 the next day would be a struggle.

They said goodbye to Charlie and grabbed their coats, making their way downstairs to the waiting towncar. It wasn’t until they were on their way that Courtney really let everything hit her, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I…” Courtney swallowed.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“You sure about that? What’s wrong?”

Courtney shook her head vigorously as traitorous tears slipped down her cheek. “Nothing’s wrong, everything’s perfect.” She wiped her face, disgusted with herself.

“Then why are you crying, angel?”

“Because…” Courtney squeezed her eyes shut, positive that she was about to ruin everything. “Because you’re just…making all my dreams come true.”

“Okay. Yeah, I can see how that would be upsetting.”

“No, it’s just…I'm scared, that it’s all gonna disappear,” Courtney said, now unable to hold back the river of tears. “You’re gonna get bored, or meet someone else, and I…I’m falling for you so hard and I know it’s too fast and I-”

“Hey, look at me.”

Courtney turned to her, eyes liquid, sniffling.

“I have been having…the best time with you,” she said, taking one of Courtney’s hands in both of hers. “And I know that it’s still new, but I said that I’d help you with your career and I will. No matter what happens with us. I promise. And I don’t break promises. Okay?”

Courtney nodded slightly, then asked, “Why don’t you want people to know about us? Are you ashamed? Are you just...already looking for a way out?”

“What?”

“You just kept introducing me as your ‘friend’ all night, and I just thought that it meant you don’t care about us, or that-”

“No! I dunno, I guess we haven’t really talked about labels, and I wanted to make sure everyone took you seriously,” Bianca said. “Took your talent seriously.”

“Oh.” Courtney sniffled, feeling a little stupid for letting her insecurites get the better of her.

“Also…you know, a lot of the people there were…mutual friends of…”

“Of?”

Bianca sighed slightly, a sheepish smile on her face, then said, “I guess it’s time to come clean to Fame and Raja, huh?”

“Really?” Courtney looked at her with surprise.

“Well, yeah. I don’t want us to feel like we’re sneaking around. That shit gets old real fast.” Bianca kissed the back of her hand. “I’ve been selfish, I was trying to do this without getting them annoyed at me, but…It’s not worth it if it makes you feel like I don’t care. Because I do.”

Courtney bit her lip, feeling like she might burst into tears again, but this time from joy. She took a deep breath, trying to get her racing heart to calm down.

“When do you want to tell them?”

“Well…the Galactica party’s on Thursday. Wanna be my date?” Bianca asked, a sly smile deepening her dimples.

Of course, they’d both been planning to go to the party, but Courtney had resigned herself to the idea that they’d be there separately. She’d even asked Tati to come as her plus one, not believing for a second that going with Bianca was a possibility. After all, it was so soon.

“That’s in two days!” Courtney exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Yeah… Does that work for you?”

For a second, Courtney felt almost dizzy, imagining walking into the party on Bianca’s arm. There was no way in hell that it wouldn’t cause a stir...but the idea of everyone seeing them together, while a bit frightening, was also terribly exciting.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds...perfect,” she said, eyes shining happily.

“Okay then,” Bianca said softly, pressing a kiss to Courtney’s cheek.

6 notes · View notes

alitheamateur · 5 years ago

Text

Back-Seat Bliss

Warnings: SMUT. Language. 18+

Summary: Newly married, but still sitting on the secret, Chris warns you he’s going to slip the announcement into an interview on the carpet. You're of course, eager to shout to the world you’ve been crowned his wife, but you know the night will turn to an even bigger circus. Chris, the dutiful, dedicated man he is, takes it upon himself to settle your nerves...

These carpet premiere primps never got any less chaotic, and over-the-top. You’d walked the orange, the purple, the gold, the black, most often the red carpet, and yet the pit in your stomach was still wound like a sailors knot. There had been accidentally sheer skirts, overly teased up-dos, the occasional horrendous streak of botched spray tan, but one accessory remained the same. The classic, timeless, rustically tailored and put together man to your left. His ‘good side’, he’d say.

For the last 3 years, you had trailed yourself in front of the paparazzi at premieres, awards ceremonies, charity events all of such, dangling securely on the arm of Chris, your deemed A-list boyfriend who still burped at the kitchen table, and drank beer like a frat boy. You had learned all the poses, the half-smiles, the gazing into each other’s eyes to display the intimate look of a couple in love like the pair of you. Through the years, you’d become quite the regular on the carpets thanks to Chris and his continual rise up the latter of success. But, tonight, there’d be one difference. Your hair color the same, his driver the same. The chilling champagne in the sterling silver ice pale by the front door where you would toast before he helped you settle in the back of the stealthy, blacked out SUV, the same. Your last name?

Different.

The subtly of your intricate, delicate, thin wedding band had aided in disguising the whim decision the pair of you had concluded last weekend when you hired a minister to marry you on the balcony of your rented villa in Costa Rica. Your gorgeous engagment stone was no longer breaking news, and the public eye had, in its own little way, left you alone as of late.

But tonight, Chris had warned you he was planning to “let it slip” during an interview “whenever he felt like it.”

You were a touch fearful of the announcement breaking the surface, knowing the tailspin it would unleash for the rest of the evening. Every news outlet would beg and fawn for a photo, every journalist and TV personality requesting every detail of the nuptials. Maybe you’d sneak two glasses of that golden bubbly before the tornado set in.

“Fuck. You’d think I’d be used to you by now. But, damn it, Y/N.”

Chris was tying his shoe at the foot of the stairs, eyes to the floor on the black laces when the clack of your stiletto captured him. Your dress was a custom silk number that crawled to rest perfectly in every crevice of your warm skin. It’s girlish shade of rosy blush cut high up the line of your thigh, then gathered with intricate beads around your round, “child-bearing hips”, as Chris called them. Your bosom was accentuated by the lifting seams of the bodice, and you held no shame in making the request to the designer with your lovers’ lust-blown pupils in mind.

He pulled you in by the hand not securing your clutch, throwing it over his neck right where he wanted it, and palmed the luscious cheek of your silken covered bum. The pucker of his plush lips barely pecked the line of your jaw, mindful not to smear anything on your glorious face. Your tropical island induced tan was fresh on your skin, the bronze glittering with coconut scented body butter. Chris sniffed and inhaled into your hair as he tongue-kissed your exposed shoulder. His presence instantaneously soothed over your chattering reserve, but there was no doubt your observant husband would scope out the slight trembling.

“Hey, gorgeous. Talk to me, hm?” He searched your face, fiddling a moment with your earring.

“This is going to be a big night, Chris. You know I don’t necessarily like the unforgiving spotlight.”

He gathered your hand, palm down, in his, and kissed your knuckles. As he was about to dissipate your qualms with one of his very “Captain” like pep-talks, his assistant barreled in from the front steps.

“We need to be getting you guys on the road if that’s alright.” She meekly instructed.

You swigged a hearty gulp of the lavish liquor before you took your man’s arm to tiptoe down the cobblestone steps. His warm hand, so brazen yet unbelievably tender and considerate resting where the skin of your back blended into the cheeks of your bum was a cocktail of all things contented and zen, but your worried mind held on, ready to put up a fight.

Once you buckled yourself in with Chris’ assistance so you wouldn’t cause any creases in the expensive fabric, he leaned over the console to whisper something to the driver that you couldn’t make out over the thrums of the radio. When he settled back, silently a black partition slid up, separating the two of you from distraction.

“Where’s that gorgeous smile, baby? You shouldn’t be so tense about all this. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion, you know.”

He began peculiarly fretting with the clasp of your simple, strappy shoes, finally loosening their fasten and pulling your freed toes toward him. He rubbed over your already extremely sore ankle and heels, drawing little hearts and smiley-faces on the most ticklish bend of your arch.

“I know, I know. And I am happy. I’m thrilled to finally get to shout from the rooftops that I snagged such a catch as yourself. You just know how I get, Chris.”

He had somewhere between your words, slid off his jacket and hug it just-so over the headrest, and was know working his massaging fingers into the trim, but filled out flesh of your thigh.

“I do know how you get, angel. And I also know exactly how to make everything all better, as well, don’t I?”

He hummed as you spread the span of your thighs and bit, shifting a smidge to face him, and your belly began to heat with a white-hot simmer. With so much as a look, Chris could absolutely shatter your world with the most pleasurable, tantric high unlike any substance known to the world around you.

“I don’t think we have the space to exactly attempt that now, do we, Mr. Evans?” The zipper of your dress began to click and widen with the stress of your heavy breast heaving with short, reckless pants.

“I think I can definitely make do, Mrs. Evans. You know there isn’t a thing that can stop me when I get the urge to taste you.”

He was a man crazed when it came to you. His favorite flavor, he’d say. More times that you can count, you’ve had to nearly choke and stifle the life out of him by shoving his loud mouth between your globed chest because he insisted on taking you in the corner at a party, or in the restroom at a fitting, but couldn’t keep his howls under control. You’d nearly lost all your nerve for the taste of exhibitionism when his mother nearly stumbled in on the two of you in her kitchen last Christmas. You heard sweet Lisa telling everyone in the next room that she could almost swear she heard something like a bear growling in the back yard.

“Be a doll and hike this fantastic dress up those sweet fuckin’ thighs, will you?”

Oh, but he wasn’t asking. The shift in his voice now laced with a delicious heat, and the glorious bulge that you inadvertently gawked at making your belly growl with hunger, told you so.

Fiending for the calmness you knew would follow his gifted release, you raised just enough to settle the dress out from under you, revealing with pleasure the evidence of your bare core.

“Uh-oh! Seems I may have left something at home…” Your mock gasp, and squeaky dash of faux innocence make him smile. That satisfied, lustful sneer that made you want to punch him in the face, then sit in the same spot thereafter. It was vile, and cocky, and so incredibly your favorite smile in the entire world.

“Trust me, sweetheart. I knew there couldn’t possibly be a shred of anything under that dress the way it’s glued to this perfect ass.” You could already feel the half-mooned marks of his claws bruising into you as he used said ass to yank you into him.

The slick you had already worked up caught the waft of his hot breath as he nuzzled his face into you, and your legs shuddered. His defined nose, his pert lips, and his bristly chin daubed into the oversensitive slit. You knew all evening he’d have the tiniest remnants of your scent stained around his face as he greeted friends, and smiled for the photos, and it made you nearly come.

“Chris.” It was all you could conclude, and the only word that mattered in the English language to you in the very moment.

He pulled your blooming bulb in to his mouth by the teeth, then soothed the tiny sting with a flat swipe of his relaxed tongue. Thankfully, the tussled waves of ‘sex-hair’ was the ‘in’ look when it came to the latest beauty trends because the way you burrowed and rucked around trying to catch a view of him staring and sucking in the entrance of your cunt was definitely electrifying the static of your auburn curls. You loved the sensation of his wet licks, but watching him did so many throbbing things to your insides. His airy lashes would flutter forth & back between your face, and the bloom of your clit, and for added measure he would pull his own lip between his teeth.

“So fucking sweet, as always. I wish I could bottle you up, sweetheart. Have a little taste of you wherever I go.” You hissed and nearly took a bite out of your own tongue at his dirty words.

Amongst the nibbles and peppering of kisses to your clenching sex, he maneuvered a long finger inside to probe your leaking walls. His come-hither motions pulling and kneading at your deepest cavity had your legs twitching like something inside you was short circuiting, and crashing into his dutiful hands. Another finger. Then another…

You were stretched and prepped for the most satisfying and sensual fill that no one had ever given you the way your insatiable husband did. He was blessed, and quite equipped for all the perfect trappings to please the female race, and luckily, you just so happened to pin him down as your own.

“Give me one, love. Like this, please. Fill my mouth. Then, we’ll get to the good stuff, okay?”

“I’m so close, Chris. I can feel it so, so close.”

He interpreted your information as a challenge, and began working swift clicks with his mouth. He slurped and ravished like no sustenance on the planet could fulfil his cravings like your juices, rolling along the circle of your puckering peak. And before too long, he elicited the inevitable and blurred your vision with the fruits of his labor.

Thankful for smudge-proof lip stain, you stifled your own monstrous moans with the hot cover of your palm, coming down from orgasmic Mars as Chris popped the button of his pants.

“I’m not sure how we’re gonna swing this one, babe. There’s not exactly a lot of wiggle room with this dress.” You managed, voice barely the trace of a whisper.

“Don’t you worry, baby. Just sit back, and let your man do the rest. Got it?”

Giddy, you smiled and had to pull back the dopey drool of your mouth.

Chris let the waist of his pants fall slack, barely revealing the thickness of his standing shaft. His choice of attire for the evening was of course, in the family of classic black, and you couldn’t imagine him escaping this exchange without some lasting traces somewhere on his suit.

He situated a white-knuckle grab around the door handle just to the right of your head, and let the other fist wrap around your leg just above the knee. He was buckling in for what would be a predicted wild ride.

Just as you felt the seeping tip of his head toy with you, he dove in without reservation. This wouldn’t be the time, or place for a slow burn, and Chris knew just how much you could appreciate a ruthless, dirty quickie. You felt the car come to a halt slowly, and peered with side eyes just out the window to see a stoplight turned red. There was traffic as far as the eye could see, and in fact, a similar model vehicle right beside you in the next lane. You knew the shade of tint on your window was specifically designed for desertion, but still the titillating thrill egged you on.

Thrusting with his rhythm, matching every move, Chris began to undo between your legs. A sheen of dolloping sweat was now rolling between the crease of his brows, and a loose tassel of his perfectly combed hair had flattened to his forehead. From the waist up, he was poised with his perfectly knotted tie, and crisply steamed white oxford. Gentlemanly, posh for the cameras. But, below the tail of his shirt, he was rucking and pounding inside of you like an ill-mannered fiend.

“My pretty girl. You seem awfully relaxed now, hm?”

“More. I need more, baby. Let me feel you lose yourself inside me.”

When his blue-flamed eyes screwed closed, you knew his own ending was in sight. You yanked him in by the tie, longing to work his mouth with yours. Then suddenly, a stop. You heard voices chattering, a random erupt or claps here and there, and you gathered the two of you had arrived.

You imagined the frame of the car had to be rocking a bit when it parked near the rear curb of the entrance, but it wouldn’t stop Chris from finishing what he started, and ensuring his girl was free of worries for the evening.

With his tongue rolling with yours, mouths roaming each other, Chris jolted once more, and his cock twitched inside you. There’d be nothing to catch his seed from surfacing to trail down your legs once you stepped into the sea of cameras, but it gave you salacious pleasure regardless.

As if Tucker, his longtime driver and bodyguard, had known exactly what was unfolding in the back seat, he stood post just outside your rear door, assuring no one opened it and caught a glimpse of an R-rated body part. Using the compact inside your clutch, you reapplied a layer of gloss, and Chris dabbed away the simple beads of perspiration on the tip of your nose after securing his pants. Giving each other a cautious, engaged once over for smears, or wrinkles and stains, you clasped his cheek before letting him open the door to the world.

“I feel much, much better. Thank you, handsome.”

His head leaned into your tender touch, nuzzling. “No need for thanks, angel. Now, can I please get out of this fucking car and tell someone besides my Ma that this amazing, flawless, astounding human is my wife?!”

TAGS: @miidailyinspiration @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

#Chris Evans #chrisevans #chris evans fanfiction #chrisevansfanfic #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x female reader #chris evans imagine

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readbeneaththelines · 5 years ago

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Captured Moments Pt. 6

A/N: You are an artist given the chance to work with BigHit Ent. as their Creative Art Director. Getting to spend time with BTS, you form a friendship with them. But With Namjoon, could it grow into something more?

Characters: Namjoon x Artist!Reader

Warnings: soft Namjoon, soft and fluffy OT7, fluffiness galore

Word Count: 1272

WHY IS HE SO FLUFFY!!!!!!!! cr to gif owner

Jin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were playing Overlord on the television when Namjoon got home. "It's about time you.." Jin started before he glanced up and saw Namjoon's wistful look. "What's got you all smiley?" He quipped, a hint of a smile showing. "Did you have a good time today? Y/N really put a lot of thought into your shoot today, didn't she?"

"Yes, yes she did. I wanted to thank you all for helping out with keeping it a secret. I feel refreshed and revitalized", he wasn’t really looking at any of them as he made his way to the kitchen. Jin handed his controller to Jimin and followed Namjoon. Once they were alone, Jin placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "What happened?"

"Nothing?" Now, Namjoon was not good at lying, especially to Jin.

"Look at me Namjoon." He waited until Namjoon looked at him, a dream look in his eyes. "Shit! Did you? Did you two do something?" Jin's signature smirk came into view and Namjoon covered his hyung's mouth with his hand. "Shhh! You can't tell anyone! But yeah, we kissed. Jin. It was amazing. It felt like, I can't even describe it. But you have to promise me you won't tell anyone. She's afraid of losing her job, and worried that if anyone finds out I'll lose everything too."

"You know you can trust me. So, what now?" Namjoon looked around, making sure no one else could hear them. "we're just going to see how it unfolds. Let time lead. Who knows. I really like her, Jin. She feels like a kindred spirit and when we're together, it's comfortable. We get each other."

"Man, you've got it bad!" Jin laughed, quickly hushing before the others heard.

Stolen glances, finding ways to see each other in the halls, an ‘accidental meeting’ here and there in the cafe. That's how you and Namjoon found ways to connect. Sure, it wasn't ideal, but those moments led to learning about each other. One day at lunch, you told Namjoon about the upcoming shoot for Yoongi's theme. " I know he's struggled with things in his past, I hope it doesn't make him uncomfortable" you told Namjoon over one of the sudden 'run-ins'.

" He's come a long way, he told us that he really liked what you drew up, I think if it bothered him he would have told you."

“I just don’t want to dredge up old memories that would be uncomfortable for him.” You sat back in your chair, mulling over what you had envisioned for Yoongi. He had been vocal in the past about his struggles, even writing a few songs about it. You could only hope that he had come far enough out on the other side to look back and see just how far he had come. “Maybe I can meet with him beforehand, go over it once more before filming.” Namjoon agreed and you pulled out your phone to text him.

Y/N Artist Extraordinaire: Yoongi can you meet with me?

I want to go over your shoot for tomorrow.

Yoongi: Sure, how about later today.

Will be in the recording studio

Come by whenever

You looked at the time, noticing that Namjoon’s lunch break would be over any minute now. “Will I get to see you later?” you asked hopefully. “Yes, of course. We are breaking early tonight, we have an interview tomorrow. Maybe we can catch up before everyone goes to bed?” Just then, his alarm went off, alerting you both that your time together was over. Clearing your table, you walked with him to the elevator, the two of you stepping inside alone. The moment the door closed, he had his arms around you. Pulling you against his tall frame, he bent down, placing a chaste kiss to your lips. You craved more, but knew that the doors would open an second now. Holding his arms for support, you let him lead the moment. He kissed your nose then your forehead, pulling you tightly against him in a hug. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.” He said wistfully.

“Me too.” you whispered against his chest. Feeling the elevator come to a stop, you released each other just in time for the doors to slide open. You told him goodbye, then exited, turning down the long corridor to your studio. After sitting at your desk and accomplishing nothing, you figured it was as good a time as any to go see Yoongi.

You could hear the music wafting down the hall as you approached Yooongi’s studio. You opened the door carefully, making sure to make as little noise as possible. You leaned against the wall, letting the sounds wash over you. When he was here, he was in his own universe. He poured his heart and soul into his music, that was evident. The world around him disappeared as he immersed himself in his art.

“Jenjang!” he swore under his breath. You cleared your throat, letting him know you were there. “Aish! Y/N, you scared me.” He spun in his chair, turning around to face you.

“Sorry Yoongi, I just wanted to listen for a minute. It sound really good. Is this something new?” He nodded, placing his headphones on the soundboard.

“ Yeah, I just can’t seem to get this one part just right. I keep playing it over and over, but something is missing.” You frowned at his frustration. Of all the members, he was the hardest on himself, spending long hours until everything was perfect.

“Maybe setting it aside for a bit will help? Hopefully tomorrow’s shoot will be a good distraction?” You were hoping it would be just that, a time to step away and reflect.

“Ahh, yeah. You wanted to talk about tomorrow. What’s up?” he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head.

“Well, first off I want to say am really excited for what your shoot will be, but, I want to make sure that you really are okay with it. I mean, I know your theme is a bit dark, so to speak, and I want to ask if you are good with what I am hoping to portray.” He rocked in his chair, thinking over what you had envisioned for him.

“I think I am. I am at a good place right now, and I know that you want to use my theme as a way to reach others. For that alone I am excited for the shoot. Will it be hard? Maybe? But I know your intentions, and I know that you would work with me if any problem arose.” You nodded immediately.

“Of course I would. I want all of you to be at ease during these. I think you will be pleased with the set, and the young man who will be the younger you is very sweet. I think you two will get along nicely.”

“It’s settled then. I really am okay with this, Y/N, so don’t worry. What time do you want me on set?” You told him as soon as the interview was over, to meet you at your studio. The set would be ready when he arrived. Hugging him bye, you got up to leave. Stopping at the door you turned back to him.

“You’ll get it Yoongi, I have faith in you. It’s in there and you will find it. Just don’t fret over it.” He smiled that gummy slime and waved you goodbye. Heading back to the studio you could once again hear the music filling the hallway, a smile on your face.

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoong i@trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570 @xjamlessparkx

#namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #kimlinenetwork #thekimlinenet #namjooning

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red49m0on · 5 years ago

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Need to know if this it any good? I want to make a story out of it.

"You don't have what it takes to be a hero!"

"Ya! Your daddy must have been so disappointed when he saw your quirk."

"Can you plant some roses for me, Ms. Gardener!"

The group of kids laughed tauntingly at the young girl. She was bent over picking up her books, that knocked out of her hands when the kids shoved her to the side.

A boy in the middle of the group growled at her quiet nature. "What are you deaf too? Add that to the list of problems you have!" He smirked looking at his pals. They laughed at his joke and watch the girl slowly to put her books in her bag. This made him angry. His taunting and harassing didn't make her weep or beg him for forgiveness. When bullying other kids they almost instantly back down and did what he wanted them to do. But this new transfer girl isn't like most kids. She had a resting bitch face as he puts it. No one dare go near her like she was the plague. That irritated him knowing some kids feared her presence more than his. His smirked lowered while reaching for her hollow cheeks. He grasps them with a tight hand. "What makes you so special?" He hissed. "Your allegedly A hero's secret love child...but yet you sit here looking defenseless." He watched her icy blue eyes cloud up with hate. He knew he was about to strike a nerve. He was ready for her to snivel and give in to his hurtful words doing his every command to make them stop. This works for all the difficult kids he's dealt with.

“That’s why your mommy left you?”

He could nearly feel the grieving aura around her.

"She couldn't depend on a defenseless little nobody to come and save her!" He laughed. Throwing her to the ground he watched as a tear was dripping down her cheek. Her blonde hair spread out across the hard tile covering some of her face. Her body was huddling up in a ball against the locker almost as instinct. She truly looked like a tiny fragile girl who needed a hero to come and save her. Damsel in distress. He knelt beside her. His fingers wrapped themselves around her soft hair. Pushing the remaining hair out her face he saw her eyes glowing bright blue. He jumped slightly in surprise.

"Don't touch me." She whispered suddenly.

"What was that?" He chimed. Grabbing a fist full of hair he brought her face close to his.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed and punched his gut. He moaned and rolled on his side. She scrambled up and kicked his chest. He grabbed her foot and pulling her down to the ground. Soon it turned into a full fistfight. His pals ran to get a teacher knowing this was getting worse by the minute. The girl grabbed his shirt pulling him into a head-put. He rolled off her while she lunged on top of him punching. Soon she realized she didn't know what she was punching but she couldn't stop. Her pain and anger she had built up were being taken out. In the mix of the fight, she starts seeing spots and blacked out completely. The only thing she could remember was being pulled away and a small glimpse of a bruised and bloody boy on the school floor.

"Mr. Tskauchi I understand your niece's troubles but Ms. Yagi cannot run around this school using her fist as a way to express her feelings."

"He slammed me onto the ground! He started it I only taught his arrogant ass a lesson." She yelled standing from her seat.

"Maka that's enough." Tskauchi mumble.

"If this continues she will be expelled from this school. We don't tolerate this behavior. Especially from a soon to be hero." He glared over at her. She sat down looking at her red knuckles.

"I do recommend counseling." The principal sighed. He pulled out a blue card with a bright yellow smiley face on it. "Mrs. Suki is excellent with children with trauma like this. I'd give her a call." He glanced over the Maka. "You might learn a few things from her." He handed over the card to Maka's guardian. "Thank you, sir, I'll make sure her father knows about this." He nodded and stood up waiting for Maka to follow. Once they were outside he took a deep breath in and turn to her. "What happened?" She rolled her eyes. "Were you not paying attention? I got into a fight." He opened the car door for her and resumed the conversation. "You don't get into a fight unless necessary, so I'll ask again what was said and done you're not telling me." She hugged her body and shift more towards the window.

"Nothing."

"Maka."

"He needed to get thrown off his pedestal, that's It."She hissed.

Tsukauchi rubbed a temple. "Your dad's not going to be happy." Her knuckles started to grip her uniform tighter. "This is the fifth time you've been expelled and transferred. Keep this up and you might be homeschooled."

"What do I care about how the old man feels? It's not like he gives a damn."

"Of course he does-"

"-he didn't even bother showing up to my school after they called, he sent you!" She whipped her head around. "Does he have something so important he missed the meeting? Did some talk show host ask him to come for an interview?" She sneered. "Hey!" He fumed out making her shut up. "I know you're spiteful towards your dad but he's still your parent. You know he's busy. He's the number one hero Maka, the symbol of peace." She sighed and glared out the window. These conversations happen almost daily. Her father was the great symbol of peace, Allmight. He was never home and rarely showed up to anything important of hers. He was always busy saving lives and caring for other's needs instead of hers. This made Maka furious. How could he simple but her in the back of his mind like she didn't matter? Is what she thought. For that is only a quarter of why she hates her dad.

The car suddenly stopped. In front was a gated house that had big windows. The house was two stores and didn't look like anyone was living there. Like a new house. It's bright white trim didn't fail to crack in any way. Maka open the door stepping out into the pouring rain. She didn't realized it rain during the trip. "I'll see you later." Tsukauchi gave a half-hearted smile at her, one she didn't return. "Ya, whatever." She mumbled and slammed the door shut walking to her empty home.

#my ocs #mha fanfiction #bnha oc #fanifiction #allmight #pls help

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wackygoofball · 6 years ago

Photo

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Film Noir AU

“You have a new client.”

“I didn’t even have my drink yet, wench!”

“It’s still in the morning.”

“And yet I had no drink, wench! How am I supposed to solve crime like this? What did I hire you for?”

“You did not hire me. I agreed to work for you.”

“Same difference. Back to my drink…”

“I will send him in now.”

“Don’t forget the drink!”

“Don’t forget to do your job, so I may do mine, Mr. Lannister. We have an agreement and you ought to stick to it. Or do I have to remind you of the Truce?”

“Ugh. Let’s just get over with it.”

Private detective Jaime Lannister never saw himself running a shabby investigation bureau down Cobbler’s Square, having to put up with mislaid purses and clients wanting to have proof for their cheating spouses.

Though there is a great many things he did not see becoming part of his life.

For instance, he never saw himself being bossed around by his own secretary. Ms. Brienne of Tarth made it clear ever since he hired her, pardon, ever since she agreed to work for him, that the woman is none of those smiley girls who nod their pretty heads at everyone and everything. Not only does Brienne lack the looks for it but the woman from the Sapphire Isle never made it a secret that she only ever took the job because she wanted the experience and did not much care about the money.

And that was the primary reason why Jaime employed her.

The secondary reasons of keeping her ever since have piled up quickly, much to his own surprise. The woman manages Jaime’s life when he knows it’s gone all to a dark, very dark place ever since he shot Aerys Targaryen in the back, in those days when he still wore a badge and uniform, was addressed as Commander Lannister and never would have thought about having a drink before breakfast.

These days he debates with himself whether to have breakfast or just a drink.

Not that he ever wins that argument, or gets to have it in the first place, because that is when Brienne will force him to eat something to “stay productive.”

After all, Brienne of Tarth seems to understand her responsibilities of maintaining the office not stopping short before her boss’s health or wellbeing. Rather, she seems to be of the opinion that it is her duty to somehow keep the man going even when Jaime feels like staying in bed for the rest of his days.

Not so with Brienne of Tarth, of course. He would have to die before she would let him slack off his duties like that.

The clients fly in and out of the office until Jaime finds a case worth his time. Thus, he is quick to grab his trench coat and bag to stride up to the tall woman’s desk outside his office to announce: “We are heading out, Miss Tarth!”

“At last!” she sighs, grabbing her coat as well to join.

Some time back, Jaime never would have considered leaving the office with the tall, blonde woman refusing heels and red lipstick when he goes off to investigate, but even an oathbreaker like him will keep some vows.

After all, the woman had it written in the contract. Explicitly.

Brienne signed up because she wanted to be “close to crime,” and in the dark world they live in, women, no matter how mannish in looks they may be, are not considered to be of the stuff it takes to work this kind of job.

Not that she signed up because she particularly liked Jaime, of course. Quite on the contrary, Brienne of Tarth was less than pleased having to talk to the Kingslayer of all people to get a job at an investigation bureau.

“Frankly, Mr. Lannister, I don’t know whether there is just a shred of honor in you. And under most other circumstances I would refuse to even speak to you, but… I want to serve the people of King’s Landing. I want to keep crime off the streets where the police won’t bother. You say that the police office is corrupt? I start to have the same notion. Which is why I think it is high time that another force comes into play, so some of that corruption may be stopped,” she told him during the interview, as bluntly as a butter knife, and yet, cutting deeper than Jaime Lannister ever believed possible.

“I don’t trust you. But your records as a commander who led many investigations during his time… are simply outstanding. You solved more crimes than anyone at the King’s Landing department. If only half of that skill will remain after you drank away the rest, you will still surpass any other detective I have spoken to ever since I moved to King’s Landing in the hopes of finding a job at a bureau of that sort. Which means I don’t have to trust you. I only have to trust your skill.”

“And what is there about you that I could trust, Miss Tarth?”

“That I will keep each and every promise I ever make and will go about this job with all that I have. I will keep the office clean, I will manage your business dealings, see about bills, handle clients, and be of support for your investigations to the best of my abilities. I will see to it that this bureau will have the best possible results. I will support you to the best of my abilities so you may do what you seem to have a natural gift for, granted that you don’t throw it all away for some scotch. For all of that, you have my word, Mr. Lannister. And I don’t promise easily.”

“I bet you don’t. But then again, I don’t know how far your promises will take you once you see the reality of things. You may grow tired and irritated of the job as well as my methods. Can I trust you to live with that?”

“You will have to.”

“And so will you.”

“It appears so.”

And so, not just a contract was signed that day but also a silent agreement made: They don’t trust anyone, not even each other. They don’t have to be friends to work together. They fulfill their parts of the contract and the unspoken agreement the best they can. And thus far, no one broke the oath just yet.

The Truce was born – and it’s kicking to this day.

Against all the many odds they have against them, their small investigation bureau is held in high regard as cases continue to be solved thanks to their cooperation inside and outside the office between the detective and his most curious secretary who has a surprisingly good eye for detail.

Just like she has the most astonishing eyes…

Their odd peace is disturbed when they investigate a murder case that soon leads them down a rabbit hole of no return, a web of crime, all leading to one person more dangerous and vicious than anyone they ever encountered as private detectives.

And that person may actually be not just one step ahead in the game but also just one step behind them with a gun to their backs.

Confronted with the dangers waiting in the darkness of the city of King’s Landing, the weary private detective and his determined secretary have to face not only crime and murder, though, but also their very own demons, buried in the past or at the bottom of some many glasses of scotch.

Because a lack of trust always begins with an injury, a deep cut, that made it impossible to rely, to hold on, even though, deep down, this may be the one thing you are seeking.

And it may be that they are each other’s remedy, a way out of the darkness, back into the light.

Yet, darkness may prevail since tender feelings can easily be crushed, corrupted, shot and buried someplace no one will ever find in the darkness.

And so, the game of shadows continues…

#jaime x brienne #jaime lannister #brienne of tarth #moodboard #aesthetic #got moodboard #got aesthetic #game of thrones #wacky tries gimp #fanfic #fanfiction #in smol

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noona-clock · 6 years ago

Text

First Impression - Part 3

Genre: Museum!AU

Pairing: Youngjae (Got7) x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Youngjae waited a couple of days to email you; any longer than that, and he probably would’ve internally combusted because of all the anticipation.

In his head, the email went like this:

Thank you so much for talking with me and answering my questions at the exhibit the other day. I’m truly in awe of your knowledge of Renoir; I can’t imagine how much you know about other painters, as well. I really hope you weren’t just being nice when you offered to help me with my thesis because I would love for you to read over it. Would you want to meet up somewhere? Maybe for dinner?

I have to admit, I didn’t go to the museum just to see the exhibit. I saw you there on my first visit, and to be honest, I was immediately attracted to you. Meeting and speaking with you only solidified my feelings, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

I applied for an internship there - yes, partly to be close to you. If I get hired, we could have a secret office romance. We could stay late to “work.” We could do our best to be professional around our co-workers when, really, we’re thinking about ripping --

Here’s how his email really went:

Thank you so much for taking the time to talk about the exhibit with me the other day. Should I send you my thesis? I understand if you’re too busy, but really, any notes would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks again.

-YJ

He sent it quickly, afraid that if he wrote any more, he would accidentally type out one (or more) of those thoughts swirling around in his head. That... would be bad. And very, very embarrassing.

Anyway!

Youngjae was expecting to hear back from you in a day or two; he figured you were pretty busy, and his thesis was definitely lowest on the totem pole of your responsibilities.

But after only twenty or so minutes, he got a notification on his phone.

New message Re: Youngjae - grad student from the museum

His brow furrowed in surprise, but he opened it almost immediately.

Sure, go ahead and send it! I’ll gladly read over it and send my thoughts - and any corrections if I see them, though I’m sure there won’t be many!

I’m so glad you liked the exhibit. I don’t always get to hear what people think of it, so thank you! If you come back, let me know. I can give you another tour if you’d like ;)

-Y/N

...Had -- had you just... Okay, was he imagining things, or had you just kind of flirted with him? Via email? I mean, you’d offered to give him another tour of the exhibit. You’d sent a winking smiley face. That was flirting, right?

So... Youngjae clicked on ‘reply’ and started typing out his own response.

Another tour? I would like that :) I have a feeling there’s a lot more I can learn from you.

-YJ

p.s. thesis coming soon - on my phone at the moment

And just minutes after he pressed ‘send,’ he got another notification. Another reply from you.

I’ll be waiting! ;)

-Y/N

Honestly, Youngjae had to applaud you for that response. It could mean you were waiting for his thesis or you were waiting for his next tour or both. No matter which one you really meant, his heart still beating just a little bit faster in anticipation.

The two of you spent the next few weeks emailing back and forth, and while the messages were mostly professional (since they had to do with Youngjae’s thesis and the Impressionist movement), there were a lot of flirtatious undertones. A lot of sentences tacked onto the end of an email which definitely toed the line. And a lot of winking smiley faces, mostly on your part.

Youngjae had come so close to just straight up asking you out more than a few times in these email exchanges, but the interview process for the museum internship was actually going really well. He figured he could wait a little while and just ask you out in person, at work.

When Youngjae received the call from the human resources department at the museum informing him he would be starting his internship the next day, it was all he could do not to send you an email sharing the good news. He wanted it to be somewhat of a surprise, though you actually may have known already. The two of you had mainly just talked about his thesis, so he wasn’t all that sure how much you were involved in the inner workings of the museum.

For the rest of the day and into the next morning, he kept going through different scenarios in his head. He imagined seeing you -- you seeing him -- for the first time. He would shoot you a half-smile, maybe a wink? You would smirk bashfully, probably. And then he would find a time and place to approach you privately. He would ask you out to lunch and-- why not? Dinner, too.

As Youngjae got off the bus at the museum stop, he let out a nervous but hopeful sigh. He was excited to see you and talk to you outside of the digital world, yes, but let’s not forget the main reason he was here: to work at an actual art museum. He would actually be putting his degree to good use, and that was something not many art students could say, to be quite honest.

There were a few other presumably new interns arriving at the same time, and Youngjae joined them, following them in through the main entrance and into the lobby.

A woman from HR, the employee who’d called him yesterday, greeted everyone and began a short speech about what they should expect during their internship here. They would be divided into different departments depending on their background and previous experience and whatnot, so really, this speech would do nothing to prepare them. They would learn everything they needed to know from their new bosses and co-workers.

Just then, a door next to the front desk opened, and museum employees started filing out to join the HR worker giving the speech. Youngjae’s eyes flitted around, searching for you.

He saw your hair first; you were walking next to someone, so he didn’t see the rest of you until you came to a stop about fifteen feet away from him. Youngjae’s heart skipped a beat, his stomach flipped anxiously, and he willed you to meet his eye.

You stood there for a few moments, listening politely... but then you started eyeing the new interns.

When your gaze landed on him, a smile tugged at his lips, just like he imagined it would. He was just about to wink, but then he realized your eyes had widened slightly.

And then you looked away from him almost immediately. He could see you take a deep breath, and you continued to avoid his gaze.

...What? What was going on? Why were you pretending not to know him?

Youngjae realized he hadn’t been paying attention because when he suddenly heard his name, he jumped a little in surprise.

“Yes?” he answered instinctively.

“Curating,” the HR woman stated, not even looking up from her clipboard.

Curating. He assumed she meant that was the department where he would be working, and his eyes immediately darted over to you.

You looked anxious. And you were still avoiding his gaze.

...Well, then. This would be interesting.

You heard the soft ding of your email notification, and you spun around in your desk chair, reaching out to shake your mouse and wake up your computer.

New interns starting today - meet in lobby ASAP.

Oh, fun! New interns!

You quickly locked your computer back up and sprung from your seat. Most of your co-workers were already on their way, so you fell into step with them, following them out into the museum lobby.

One of the ladies from HR was already talking to a small-ish group of young people, though you kind of zoned her out almost immediately. You would perk up if she assigned anyone to your department, of course, but you didn’t need to pay attention to anything else.

After a few moments, you lifted your gaze to take a look at the new guppies, wondering which ones would come under your wing for the next few months.

As you scanned the anxious but eager-looking interns, you couldn’t stop yourself from passing some quick judgments about their appearances. Tall, extremely well-dressed, very nervous, beautiful, too cool for school, Youngjae -- wait, what?!

Youngjae?!

Your eyes widened slightly, and you immediately averted your gaze.

Oh, god. Had you really just seen Youngjae? And not someone who looked like Youngjae?

Please let it be a lookalike, please let it be a lookalike, please let it --

“Choi, Youngjae,” your HR co-worker called out.

Damn it.

But then it got worse.

“Curating.”

WHAT?!

Oh, no. This was not good. Not good at all. Youngjae would be interning for you?! Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Before you knew it, the interns had been released into the wild, dispersing through the lobby and finding their new bosses.

Youngjae walked straight toward you.

Lord Almighty, he was even more good-looking than you remembered.

If you could have cursed out loud right now and not gotten fired (or at least a slap on the wrist), you would have.

“Hey --”

“Come with me,” you muttered, resisting the urge to reach out and grab his sleeve. You had to act normal until you got back to your office, and leading your new intern by his sleeve was not exactly normal.

Your shoes clacked loudly on the marble floor, Youngjae’s hurried footsteps trying to keep up with yours. You pushed through the employee door with a purpose and headed back to your office.

Once the two of you were safely inside, you closed the door as gently as you could. You certainly didn’t want to attract any attention.

“Y/N,” Youngjae began. You turned to see him taking a step toward you, and you instantly held your hand up to stop him.

“No,” you told him, finally meeting his eyes. His beautiful, sparkling, sweet eyes. They just made it that much more difficult for you to form coherent thoughts right now. So you took a deep breath, willing your brain (and your heart) to get a hold of itself. “Listen. I know -- I know we’ve been... we’ve been -- flirting. In our emails.”

A hopeful smile appeared on Youngjae’s lips, and you almost felt bad for what you were about to say.

Almost.

“But that has to stop here and now.”

“...What? Why?”

“Why?!” you chuckled. “Because you’re an intern now! I can’t -- you can’t -- we can’t!”

“But I’m just an intern!”

“No. Not just. You’re an intern. You’re basically an employee. My employee.”

Youngjae’s brow furrowed, and you could tell he desperately wanted to take a step toward you. But he resisted.

“Is there a rule that says --”

“I have a rule. I’m here for work, and that’s it. I can still help you with your thesis if you want me to, but nothing more.”

His brow furrowed even more, and damn it if you didn’t want to reach out and smooth it over with your fingers. But then he interrupted your thoughts by letting out a soft sigh.

“Okay, fine,” he murmured with a little nod.

Thank god. You’d been prepared to argue more, but Youngjae was smarter than you gave him credit for.

“No more flirting,” you proclaimed somewhat under your breath.

His gaze shifted, and he looked you right in the eye when he repeated, “No more flirting.”

You almost let out the biggest, longest sigh of relief. All in all, that hadn’t been as painful as you’d thought it would be. Youngjae had taken it pretty well.

So now you just had to get through the next three or so months with Youngjae as your intern. Youngjae, the guy you’d kind of, somewhat, somehow fallen for the first time you’d seen him. Youngjae, the guy you’d been emailing flirtatiously for the past few weeks.

...How hard could it be?

Part 4

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nourhanezzeldin · 5 years ago

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Assignment 3 - Reflection

There are so many things I learnt about street photography during my trip to Moaz street in Downtown Cairo. At first, I was very nervous because I had no idea how to approach strangers and get them to tell me one or some of their deepest secrets, or miseries. At first when I started walking around, looking for people to approach, I was looking for people who seemed easier to approach, those with smiley faces or those who seemed more friendly to speak with to me. However, as I approached multiple of people who I felt most comfortable to speak with, I couldn’t really get deep stories. It was difficult at first because I was still experimenting with different things to say as I approach them. I saw my friends using different approaches that I did not really like. Then I began to form the questions and ways I would approach the people. I began with greeting them, asking them how they are doing, and then asking if I can ask him/her some questions. Once they agreed, I would proceed to tell them can you talk to me about any life changing event that occurred to you? Anything happy or sad that you would like to share (or something that was an eye opener in their lives). I learnt that in order to get answers, good answers, you must be confident. In order to be confident you shouldn’t be nervous or worried about getting rejected. Only when I wasn’t afraid to be rejected and walked confidently towards the people I wanted to interview I was able to get deep, personal stories. I learned that alongside with being confident and not being afraid from rejection, I must seem friendly, ask politely, and make the person I am interviewing feel that I agree and understand the emotions behind the story they are saying. Also, you must be humble, down to earth, and communicate with the people in their language, and don’t make them feel that there is any sort of social or any other gap between you and them. It was such a great experience that taught me so much about how to communicate and approach people without knowing anything about them or their backgrounds and vice versa. I was able to be so sympathetic with the people and their stories, the good ones and the bad ones. My heart was so warmed by some of the unconditional kindness I saw from some of the people I approached. However, I almost cried when I was interviewing the person I chose to use their story for this assignment. It really broke my heart how much someone can be suffering and still smile, give positive energy, and try to keep going for those they love. I think it really touched me because I was also able to relate to the pain he felt. It is something so extraordinary beautiful to share deep experiences with random people and to be exposed to different people and different issues going on in the world around us, to share with someone tough battles that they are fighting on their own. Sometimes, simple words from us, the interviewees, can help, or maybe we can sometimes find a way to actually help with problem the person is suffering from. One of my final questions to the last person I interviewed was “If you can make one wish, anything in the world and it would come true right now, what would it be?” He replied by simply saying, to go perform Hajj before I die. His answer brought more tears to my eyes, such a simple, non materialistic, and pure wish. I really hope he can perform Hajj after everything he has been through, and I even told him that I would try to make his wish come true. Going out and interviewing people, different to those in the same community, and even those within your same community, is such an eye opener towards reality.

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renegadewangs · 5 years ago

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Ace Mindhunter - 2nd Interview

Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes, Shi-Long Lang, and a rogues gallery of AA villains. Fandom: Ace Attorney Pairings: N/A. Warnings/rating: 16+, I would say. Talk of heavy themes such as death and abuse, plus cursing. Spoilers for every AA game up to Spirit of Justice, AAI2 included. Gratuitous amounts of headcanon for antagonists. Summary: Simon Blackquill is roped into a Behavioral Analysis project along with Athena Cykes. They must sit down with convicted murderers for interviews, in hopes of finding out just what drove them to their convoluted crimes.

2nd Interview Roger

Date: June 9th 2028 Time: 2:21 PM Location: Interview Room. Another day, another interview. Much as Simon had protested, Athena had stood her ground. She wished to be a part of this project and now that she'd drawn the answers out of Vasquez where Simon had failed, there was no way to argue. If there were ever an early interview which would have her lose her nerve, today's subject would be the one to do it. They'd gone from one TV producer to another, this one a familiar face to Athena. He'd been tossed into prison quite recently, on the 28th of April, four months after Simon had left it. This inmate had not killed out of self-defense. It had been premeditated, vindictive and as convoluted as things tended to get around L.A. these days. The perfect subject for a closer examination. They had been kept waiting for over twenty minutes already when at last a guard entered the room from the inmate's side. “The Ratings Rajah will see you now,” the guard said, acting as if he were announcing the entry of royalty. “This should be good,” Simon heard Athena mutter under her breath. Despite never having been one to regard the muck produced by Take-2 TV, the man who walked into the room was exactly the sort Simon would picture to be behind it all. Greasy hair, a smug grin, a raised eyebrow, sunglasses even within a dark room... He was as different from Vasquez as could be. While his beady eyes flicked to Athena for an instant, he seemed unbothered to be faced with one of the defense attorneys who'd caused his downfall. After sitting down, he leaned his chair back and put his feet up on the table. “Hang loose, babies! Let's make this quick, yeah? I'm a busy man,” Retinz said. “Are you really?” Athena asked in turn, glaring at him. “Is that your first question? Eesh. This is why I don't leave interviews to amateurs. Need me to take charge instead?” Retinz reached for the list of prepared questions, but Simon slid it out of his reach and instead gestured to the tape recorder. “Before any of that, do you mind if we record this?” “Mind if I do?” Retinz pulled a camcorder out of his sleeve and directed it at Simon's face, grinning. “Sorry,” said the guard, who'd remained by the door. “He's not allowed to have things like that, but he keeps hiding them somehow. We just can't figure out where he's keeping it all.” “Magician's secret, I suppose,” Athena grumbled. “Ever heard of enunciation?” Retinz asked her. “Better speak up, unless you want your audience to deal with subtitles.” “You'd best put that camera away before I remove your hand with it. There will be no more coin tricks for you when you're without fingers,” Simon said. Retinz promptly made his camcorder disappear again. “So what's this interview all about? Are you writing an article about how right I was? Have you come to apologize for slandering my good name?” “Ugh...” Athena looked almost nauseous. She pulled herself together again with impressive speed, though. “We're here on behalf of Interpol's Behavioral Analysis Unit. We'll be asking you about your family history, antecedent behavior and thought patterns surrounding the crime you have committed. Our goal is to compile several psychological profiles and, ultimately, use them to create a statistical analysis which will not include your name. What you discuss with us is subject to Interpol's confidentiality clause and cannot be used against you in your applications for parole.” “So this is... What, a science project for school?” Retinz asked. “Interpol,” Athena snapped at him. “Potato, tomato.” Athena puffed up her cheeks with indignation. Simon decided that he would allow her to take the lead again for now, as this experience would either toughen her hide or break her determination to go through with the project. “We'd like to talk about where you were born and raised.” Athena opened her folder to glimpse down at Retinz's profile. “It says here you lived in Wichita until you were sixteen years old?” Retinz made a very loud noise, similar to a game show's buzzer. “Kansas? No, no, what kinda mook do you take me for? Haven't you watched any of my shows? Born and raised in Brooklyn!” “There's no government record of you ever living in Brooklyn.” “Who cares about records? Didn't I just tell you? It's all explained in my shows.” “... So you're lying to your audience,” Athena concluded, pursing her lips together. Retinz waved a dismissive hand at her. “Talk about greenhorns... Don't you know nobody cares about the truth? They get enough of that from their own lives. People watch TV so the flashy, mindblowing fiction can distract them from all that.” “That sounds rather like a magician's misdirection,” Simon pointed out. “It's a producer's bread and butter. Besides, anyone can do a bit of trickery on TV. All it takes is clever editing, a green screen here and there, some hapless acting... It's all easy gimmicks.” Retinz glanced towards the far wall, his gaze hardening. “... A magician's deception takes hard work and passion. Only a filthy criminal could have that sort of talent.” “A criminal such as yourself?” Athena asked him. “What are you saaaying? You'd better wash your mouth out with soap right now, Missy!” Retinz proclaimed, raising both hands in a defensive manner. “Are you kidding me right now?! I was there when it all went down in the courtroom, remember? We exposed you as a killer!” “You sure that was me? Maybe I had a twin, like those cute magician girls.” Athena looked ready to boil over. As for Simon, he saw an opportunity and took it. “Hold on. Only a moment ago, you stated that only a filthy criminal could have the talent necessary to be a magician. Yet now you refer to cute magicians?” “Those wannabes weren't real magicians. No talent. Zilch,” Retinz stated. “That's why they were piggybacking off Little Miss Wright, see.” “Right, speaking of your grudge against Trucy Wright-” Athena began, only to be interrupted. “Grudge? What gruuudge?” “The one that landed you in here!” “Don't know what you're talking about. I've got better things to do than project resentment onto little girls. Makes for a great TV show, though! Exactly the sort of fiction people are searching for in their mundane lives! Maybe you're not a lost cause after all.” “Oh, uh...” Retinz pulled a phone out of his pocket and promptly began typing, muttering to himself. “Defense attorneys make for great script writers. They sure can spin some interesting delusions, LOL! Smiley face... Hashtag Wright Anything Losers... Aaand post!” Simon glanced at the guard, who took a single step towards Retinz. There was no point, though, as the phone had already vanished by the time the second step was taken. Simon wondered just how many followers Retinz still had on social media and made a note to find out. A live feed directly from prison and the support it might gain could add to their research. “That's slander...” Athena huffed. “Talk to me about slander when you're stuck in death row for a murder you didn't do, yeah?” Athena leaned back in her chair, lost as could be. Simon didn't blame her. This sort of denial would usually only be found on the witness stand. To have it continue even after conviction... Well, it made for an interesting sub-category within their study, to say the least. “So tell me, Mr. Greasy Producer,” Simon began, “why are you in here?” “I was framed by the competition, obviously. Take-3 TV hates my guts. Might've even teamed up with Trucy Wright- you know. The real killer.” Athena made a move as if she were about to tear Retinz's head off, so Simon held her back with one hand. Even as he did so, he watched their subject's reactions very closely. “So all those testimonies of what people have seen and heard in the courtroom during the Wright trial... Those were all fabricated?” “Oh, you bet. I'd tell you to ask the girl sitting right next to you, but she's good buddies with Trucy. She won't take my side, believe you me.” “I see that you've requested an appeal of your case several times.” “And I will keep asking until I get it.” “This is pointless,” Athena said quite abruptly, slamming the folder shut and rising to her feet. “We're not going to get anything out of him. Let's just go.” For all of four seconds, Simon assumed her claims to be a bluff. Some trick to get Retinz talking. That was thrown into question when she left the room and didn't return. Indeed, this interview had broken her determination, just as he'd wished. Why, then, did it leave him feeling defeated? “Excuse me. We will continue this interview tomorrow.” Simon got up from his chair as well, stopping the recording process. Retreat was indeed the best strategy for now. Retinz grinned up at him, looking every bit the victor. “Hey, bring some good coffee next time, will you? None of that machine sludge they try to poison me with in here. I need a hit of a brand name, like Bunny's Caffé or Starbills.” “... Duly noted.” ------- Date: June 9th 2028 Time: 2:31 PM Location: Detention Center. Athena was storming through the detention center and towards the prison's exit so fast, Simon would have trouble keeping up if he were a lesser man. He caught up to her just before she reached the door and while he used very little force, he grabbed her arm all the same. “Hold it.” “I'm not going back in there,” Athena insisted, whirling round to face him. “Let's just tell Lang it's a waste of time. Because it is. How are we supposed to ask him about his childhood if he's just going to lie about it? And how will we find out anything about his thoughts during the murder if he keeps insisting he didn't do it?” “The denial is, in itself, something worth investigating. Where does it stem from? How does it sustain itself within his mind? Are you not curious?” “I... Maybe. Or maybe he's just acting like that to piss us off. A skeevy guy like him would know all about acting, right?” Athena glanced down towards the ground, then back up at Simon, as if hoping for his confirmation. “The only way to be certain is to continue the interview. I've told him that we will return tomorrow and we had best plot out a strategy before then.” Athena grinned and pumped a fist. “Oooh, so you're on board with me helping you out after all?” “... I believe that the daughter of Metis Cykes would not be defeated by a mere hustler of a magician. You must stand tall and if that means you would walk into a room with a killer willingly, I will stand by your side.” “Aww, that's sweet. Thanks, Simon.” Athena nudged his upper arm. “The two of us together, we'll crack this guy. Or just his ribs. Either one.” They retreated into a corner of the detention center's waiting area, where several couches and coffee tables were gathered. Simon made sure to look so very gloomy and ill-tempered, no one would come within twenty feet of them while they discussed more sensitive matters. “So how do we get him to say something that isn't nonsense?” Athena asked. “Perhaps we can begin by asking him about the victim. He knew that unfortunate wannabe magician long before the murder. Perhaps something worthwhile will spill out.” “Oh, I'm sure he'll offer his sincere condolences and make sure we've recorded it. And then he'll try to use it as evidence if he ever gets an appeal,” Athena huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “We all know he did it! Who does he think he's fooling?” Simon mulled it over for a moment. Seven years in prison had left his views on psychology rusty, and he believed it best that Lang never find out about that, or else he'd risk losing his chance to meet with the Phantom. For now, he had to focus and get those old gears grinding again. “I don't believe his words to be hot air. Not entirely, anyway. Indeed, everyone knows he committed the crime, so there is only one person left to fool.” “Who would that be?” “Himself, of course. He shows signs of emotional detachment, not only towards the crime but towards his past. Furthermore, while his mind associates accomplished magicians with criminals, recall his reactions when accused of being either one.” “... He deflected.” “Precisely. Perhaps we should not be speaking to Roger Retinz, the Ratings Rajah. Instead, we ought to find a way to converse with Mr. Reus.” ------- Date: June 10th 2028 Time: 2:18 PM Location: Interview Room. Once again, they'd been kept waiting for almost twenty minutes when at last Retinz walked in with a casual stride. Once again, he tilted his chair back and allowed his feet to rest on the table. His eyes moved towards a cup on the table. “... Bunny's Caffé?” “Indeed. You failed to specify what sort of coffee you wanted. I've decided that you are a double espresso man and if you don't like it, you will not be a coffee man at all,” Simon said, smirking. “Double espresso is exactly on the nose. Thanks, man. At least someone here has good manners.” Retinz made sure to shoot a filthy look towards Athena, then he took the espresso and drained it without so much as a second thought. Simon wondered vaguely whether he had built up an immunity to caffeine over the years or whether he'd just given himself a sleepless night. “We'd like to try, once again, to go over this list of questions with you. It is imperative that we gain better insight into your history and motives.” “Why? Your little pet project is about killers, right? You've got the wrong person. I'd suggest you pay Trucy Wright a visit instead.” While Athena's fingers tensed, she said nothing. Simon drew a steadying breath of his own before continuing. “First of all, it's imperative that we establish something else. That is, are you the magician known as Mr. Reus?” “Whaaat?” Retinz went from faux surprise to a dismissive attitude so fast, it could've given him vertigo. “Don't you know anything? Manov Mistree was Mr. Reus. He's dead now.” “Then, I will rephrase the question. Were you, at any given point in time, Mr. Reus?” Retinz clammed up immediately. There was no acting, no snide comebacks, nothing. What did happen was that the man reached for his right arm, where a scar was meant to be. Ready to deal the final blow, Simon pulled a handful of change from his pocket and placed it in front of Retinz. “What is...?” the man asked. He moved into some sort of stiff disdain. “You think I'm so down on my luck that I need your charity? Don't be ridiculous.” “A few coin tricks, if you please. As I was unable to play the part of audience during the Wright trial, I've heard no more than tales.” “If you want to see your coins disappear, just give them to a hobo. Or Little Miss Trucy.” “Quite right, anyone can make coins disappear. Only the Great Mr. Reus possesses the skill to perform the finest coin tricks in the world. Tricks of legend.” For a few seconds, Retinz seemed almost hesitant. Then something changed at the drop of a hat- or a facade. His gaze hardened and just like that, he was a whole other person. He took several coins in hand, clenched his fist, then they were gone. He stretched out all his fingers to show off his empty palm. Next, he held up his other hand, where the coins were spread out quite neatly between his fingers. “... Now, check behind your right ear.” Simon frowned, did as he was told and found another coin there, kept in place by his untidy hair. “How's that for a magic trick? I could have a coin appear anywhere on your body if I wanted to, but there's certain lines I don't dare cross. You don't seem the type who would laugh about it.” “Mr. Reus, I presume?” “The one and only. We accept no more imitations or substitutes.” Athena's jaw must've dropped at some point, for Simon looked her way just in time to see that she was closing her mouth again. “Oh... Well. All right, then.” “I would like to ask, once more, for your truthful participation. Are you prepared to answer our questions?” Reus clenched his hand together and tilted it, so that he could flick a coin into the air with his thumb. He caught it quite deftly. “Ask away.” “You were born and raised in Wichita, where you lived until you were sixteen years old, is that correct or isn't it?” “Bingo.” “Tell us about your parents.” “They were poor. Dirt poor. We lived in a run-down little shack. Pops was unemployed and drunk, mom was packing groceries at the deli.” “Did you have any siblings?” “Nope, it was just me. Probably for the best, because three was already a crowd in that hovel of a house.” “You didn't get along with your parents?” “Nope.” While Athena was attempting to stay out of the conversation, her pen was scritching against the paper. Simon didn't want to ask his next question in front of her, but knew that he had no choice. Regardless, he would be a hypocrite for assuming that she wouldn't be strong enough to handle this sort of thing. He'd already made his decision when he stopped Athena from leaving the detention center only a day ago. A deep breath, then he posed the query. “Did they abuse you?” “Sounds like this interview's turning into a dumpsterfire. Don't get too close, or you might get burned,” Reus proclaimed. He stopped flipping his coin and held it in the palm of his fist. When next he opened his hand, there were several inches of flames. The glow of the miniature fire was so bright that the lenses of Reus's sunglasses became obscured. The guard, who had once again been standing ready by the door, appeared both unnerved and unwilling to act. So much for the strong arm of the law. “Whoah, whoah! Take it easy, Jafar!” Athena called at him. It seemed as if Reus needed just a bit more incentive to speak. One more gimmick to open up to them. Simon reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a deck of cards. It was placed before the magician, drawing his attention without further ado. “Go on. Take them,” Simon urged. “I assure you, it's a complete deck.” A pause, then the flame in Reus's palm disappeared. He began to shuffle the cards in the most expert manner Simon had ever seen, even going so far as to shoot the deck from one hand into the other and back again. The whole ordeal turned into something of a blur. Finally, Reus held the deck face-down looked him square in the eye. “Name a card off the top of your head.” “... The Ace of Spades,” Simon said. Reus lifted the top card off the deck and placed it face-up on the table. It was the Ace of Spades. “Now you, Missy,” he told Athena. “Uuuhh... The Five of Hearts?” Reus lifted the next card off the deck and that one, too, was exactly as foretold. Athena smacked a hand down on the table. “Wait, no! I changed my mind! I want the Four of Diamonds!” Reus took the Five of Hearts with his free hand, spun it around on his fingertip, then placed it back down. It was now no longer the Five of Hearts, it was the Four of Diamonds. “It is done.” “Maaaaan... That's impossible.” Athena said, and Simon didn't need her special ability to hear the envy in her voice. Reus slid the two cards back into the deck, then began to shuffle again. He looked quite content as he did so, perhaps even comfortable. He was in his element, which was exactly as Simon had planned it. “My Pops,” Reus began, placing down the King of Clubs for them as if it were a tarot card, “was King of the castle. He was the one who would lay down the law and he would punish accordingly. That law depended on his mood. On a bad day, he'd knock the stuffing outta me just for breathing too loudly.” Simon was forced to consider the possibility that this was yet another 'fiction' tailored to a certain audience. Without a doubt, this sort of story held fitting notes to those attempting to compose the melody of a psychological profile. Still, the look on Reus's face gave the whole thing credibility. It was grim and real. “What did your mother say about that?” “Mom... was his devoted Queen.” Reus laid the Queen of Hearts out next to the King, then placed a Joker neatly below the two of them. “She had no problems with the hierarchy because the law didn't apply to her. She kept saying Pops had it rough because he was having such a hard time finding a job, and if he took it out on me it was my own fault. Somehow, everything was always my fault. Somehow, I was the failure.” “That sounds like a tense atmosphere for a child.” “No kidding. Pops said he didn't want me around, so I didn't stick around. I was outside the house more often than inside, hiding and practicing magic tricks.” Reus slipped the Joker back into the deck of cards first, shuffled, then snatched up remaining two to complete the collection again. With that, he went right back to absentminded shuffling. “What exactly about magic was it that drew your attention?” Athena asked, now a bit more sympathetic and willing to tend to business than before. “A magician could do anything and overcome anything. No limits. Being sawed in half was no problem, being tied up with chains and stuck in a dunk tank was no problem, being trapped in a cage and then run through with swords was no problem... They could make a yacht disappear, they could teleport across the stage, they could read your mind... When I was a kid, I thought magicians were the most powerful beings in the world.” Simon tapped his pen against the paper, thinking it over. “And they could never be hurt, correct?” The cards Reus had been holding sprang into the air and scattered all over. He recoiled, once again reaching for his scarred arm as if he'd just been burned in that very specific spot. “W-Well... Only the very best, obviously.” “So when you were sixteen, you left your home and attempted to make a name for yourself as Mr. Reus.” “Right. Naive youngster that I was, I had my sights set on the Gramarye Troupe.” Reus returned to flipping a coin as he spoke, each time catching it with such a nimble motion of the fingers that it didn't land so much as transition straight into its next jump. “By the time I was twenty, they'd already welcomed me into their midst. Bunch of miserable traitors that they were...! I gave several years of my life to them- gave them everything I had to give and they dropped me like I was nothing! My burning passion was nothing but a sad little smoulder in their eyes!” “... I've heard tales that Magnifi cast you out after a single mishap and none of the other Gramaryes stuck up for you.” “That's saying it lightly. Magnifi humiliated me and soured the name of the Great Mr. Reus for years to come. Anyone who believes Troupe Gramarye was a family is dead wrong. Every single one of the old man's students was fighting for their own reputation and I didn't see it until that incident opened my eyes. That's when I learned you can't trust anyone in this world- least of all magicians.” “And yet... You did not exact any sort of revenge until many years later. Not until Trucy Wright announced her plans of a Gramarye revival. What prompted you to act at that time, when you had been living a perfectly content life away from magic for almost thirteen years already?” “Magnifi and his accomplices got their due without my interference. A year after I was dismissed, Thalassa pulled a vanishing act of her own- some say she got hurt while practicing a magic act, just as I did, so Magnifi made his failure of a daughter disappear. A few years later, the old man croaked, Zak took the fall for his murder and Valant was effectively castrated. I thought the Gramarye name was dead and buried, so I made peace with it. That is, until she appeared.” “Trucy Wright?” Simon frowned and sat back in his chair. “Even if she wanted to revive the Gramarye name, she had nothing to do with your disgrace. She was only a young lass at the time.” Reus slammed his hand down on the table quite suddenly and while the fire in his hand had long gone out, it was still in his eyes. “She has the Gramarye blood and she flaunted the name! Trucy in Gramarye Land, indeed! What a joke! She even wanted to drag Mr. Reus into that disaster of a publicity stunt! Over my dead body!” “At that point, you were no longer Mr. Reus,” Athena said with a bit of a scoff. “It was Manov Mistree's decision to make, and so... It was over his dead body. You made sure of that.” “Don't you sit there and judge me, missy! A pipsqueak like you could never understand this all-consuming fire; this need for revenge. Trucy Wright is doomed to be every bit the criminal her parents and grandpappy were. If she isn't already, she will be some day, you mark my words!” While Athena might've huffed at Reus's attitude even further, something held her back. It was the emotion, perhaps, to the man's words. Widget was alternating between blue and red around her neck. “Do you believe,” Simon began, “that the sins of the parents carry into their children? That blood ties limit a person's potential by tying them down?” “Absolutely.” “Then, what of your own parents? Do you believe they set you on a path you could no longer stray from?” “... Ayep. I reckon they did.” “Have they come to see you after you gained a name for yourself? The Ratings Rajah was a big deal, after all.” “Oh, they hunted me down, all right.” A mean smirk appeared on Reus's face, implying he was delighted by the memory rather than horrified. “They came right up to my penthouse, packed bags by their side, asking for money and a place to stay.” “What did you say to them?” Reus took the empty espresso cup and held it between both hands, then pressed his palms together. While Simon had definitely seen the cup crumple under all that pressure, the remains had vanished when Reus pulled his hands apart again. So long as there was magic in this world, who would have need for a trash can? “Nothing. I laughed and slammed the door shut in their faces. What goes around, comes around, right?” he stated with no end to his amusement. With that, Simon considered the interview an official success; they'd learned quite a bit about what had driven Roger Retinz to premeditated murder. All it had cost him was a handful of change and a deck of cards. Applying that knowledge in practice was a whole other matter, but at the very least, they could present results to Lang. Athena must not have been quite satisfied yet, for she looked through the papers and chose another angle of attack. “If you don't mind, I'd like to go back to the topic of Manov Mistree for a bit,” she stated. “As I understand it, he was a big fan of the original Mr. Reus and you happened to learn of that by chance. Instead of ignoring that bit of your past, you revealed yourself to him and made him your apprentice. Why was that?” “Why indeed?” Reus asked, and while it might've been taken as sarcastic, the furrowing of his brow suggested that he was wondering in earnest. He went back to flipping his coin again. “... Maybe I was feeling vindictive. Maybe I wanted Mr. Reus to have one last bit of glory and I didn't care who I had to corrupt in order to get it.” “You believe that you corrupted Mr. Mistree?” “Of course. Such a bright-eyed, optimistic, gullible guy... Not the brightest bulb in the shop, but he was determined to learn. He could've been anything else, really, but he wanted to be a magician so badly. If he hadn't dreamed those foolish dreams, he wouldn't have met such a sticky end.” “And only a criminal could have a knack for deceiving people the way a magician does, hm?” Athena mused aloud. “So what was your relationship with Mr. Mistree like? Did you encourage him to follow his dreams or did you warn him about what it took to be the real deal?” “Oh, I did everything Magnifi refused to do for me. I gave him pats on the back and complimented his progress; the whole good mentor shebang. He ate it up. Never seen anyone more thirsty for approval and boy did he get it.” Simon's gaze flickered towards Athena, then back to Reus. “Did you take advantage of Mistree's adoration?” “You're gonna have to be more specific, pal.” “Did you engage in acts of a sexual nature with him?” “A guy like me, who's constantly surrounded by bikini babes in the studio? You've got some guts, asking me a question like that.” “Yet, you fail to answer.” Reus flicked several coins through the fingers of his left hand. Athena squeaked out of nowhere and hopped up from her chair. The Five of Hearts was pulled out of her boot and impressive as the trick had been, neither herself nor Simon was amused. They both made that clear through their furious expressions, which were all but ignored. “... I did at first,” Reus ultimately admitted, now flipping a coin along the back of his hand from finger to finger. When he caught sight of the look on Athena's face, he tutted. “Don't you worry, I didn't do anything he wasn't into. He was the one taking charge, not me. Took him out to dinner and everything, too. Burger Barn.” “Seriously? All that money, and you take the guy you're sleeping with to Burger Barn?” Athena's disgust reached a whole new low. As for Simon, he was of the opinion that Retinz's cheap nature was the least of his crimes. “Yeah, that really should've tipped him off, shouldn't it? Good old Manny, he was so blinded by the person he thought I was, he couldn't see the trash inside. Lots of expectation for me to live up to. How could I crush his hopes? But after a while, he became more Reus than Manov. That's when I stopped getting my kicks.” Simon's eyes narrowed into a glare. “That turn of events was your own doing. By actively encouraging Mistree's dreams and teaching him your ways, you shaped him into Mr. Reus. Then, when he was close to becoming just like you; a supposed criminal... You could justify butchering him with a clear conscience. He ceased to be a person and instead became a means to an end.” “Seems like it. I created a monster, by which I mean myself, and then I fed that monster to the flames of my revenge in hopes the fire would consume the last shreds of Magnifi's legacy. Fucking tragic.” “If you agree that the mindset is tragic, do you regret what you've done?” Reus stood quite suddenly and threw a card across the room as if it were a ninja star. The corner of it pierced the wall and so, the card remained there. Athena looked impressed. Simon thought the showmanship was quite unnecessary, but then, perhaps it was one of the few outlets Reus still had left. The disgraced magician placed both hands on the table and leaned forward, speaking his next words in a vicious whisper. “I'd kill Manov a hundred times over if it meant I had a chance to be rid of my thirst for revenge. I would need to kill him a hundred times over, because that's what it means to be a fuck-up. … How's that for a psychological profile, Dr. Freud?” To Be Continued

#my fanfiction #aa #aa spoilers #simon blackquill #athena cykes #AA mindhunter

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cinnaminsvga · 7 years ago

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Requiem | Jungkook

→ summary: Jeon Jungkook loves you. You love someone else. He lets you say “I love you” to him, if only so that he gets to hear it once in his life.

→ genre: pretend confession!au, angst

→ words: 2.2K

→ a/n: This was commissioned by the lovely @euphoricguks!! Thank you so so much for supporting my work, especially during such a stressful time. I hope this is what you wanted!

Jungkook had always thought that the universe would end with a loud bang. He imagined it would be a poetic conclusion; the world would explode with a cacophony of heat and chaos, just like how it had began. It would come unexpectedly, and he was sure he would not see it coming from a mile away. It was better that way, because then he wouldn’t have to feel regret over not foreseeing it.

In hindsight, Jungkook should have known that the end of the world would begin with a soft knock on his hotel room door.

“Who’s there?” He calls out from the bathroom, rubbing moisturizer on the pale purple moons that decorate his eyes. He yawns silently, wondering who could be bothering him at this hour. When the intruder doesn’t answer, he chooses to ignore the following knocks, hoping that the person waiting behind the door would get impatient and leave him be.

It wasn’t like Jungkook was being purposefully rude. It had been a long and tiring day after today’s KCON, and there were still a myriad of interviews left for tomorrow before they left on Saturday. So sue him for being a little prickly just this once; after all, his bed was looking awfully cozy tonight.

He caps the bottle of his moisturizer with a grunt, and he strains his ears over his soft music and grins when he realizes the knocks had finally stopped.

Thank God—

When he turns to close his bathroom door, he sees his phone light up with a notification, pausing his music in the process. He groans, debating on throwing his phone outside his window when he sees the sender’s name from the corner of his eye.

Y/N L/N.

Jungkook stops in his motions, his eyes widening in confusion. He remembers seeing you leave the restaurant earlier than everyone else a while ago. Had something happened? He thumbs his passcode quickly, and his breath catches when he reads the text.

from: Y/N L/N [01:46AM]

hey, jungkook. you weren’t opening the door, so i guess you were busy? anyway… if you aren’t busy, could i talk to you tomorrow? it’s okay if you can’t though… it’s nothing important! :)

Jungkook stares and stares. The soft, cottony sweater he had worn for pajamas suddenly feels like needles across his back. The smiley-face looks back at him tauntingly, whispering its secrets to him.

Whatever was bothering you, it was definitely important. And he had ignored your cry for help so selfishly.

Regrettably, Jungkook had somehow become attuned to your emotions over time. It didn’t matter if it was through text or speech—Jungkook just fucking knew. He knew when you felt sad, angry, exhausted—it was a skill he had developed and perfected with ease.

But he hated it sometimes, because it was moments like these when his heart was going a million miles an hour as he sprints across the quiet hotel hallway, looking for your hotel room that he knew. He knew that the reason his heart felt like it was exploding out of his chest was because he would always do anything for you—

Even if it meant skipping a good night’s sleep for you.

He grinds to a halt when he catches your room number. “321,” you had told him cheekily that morning, knowing that some time during this trip, he was going to sneak away from the managers and visit you anyway.

So, he knocks once, twice. Not a second passes when you open the door, probably not even checking the eyehole to see who it was. You had known he would come.

In hindsight, that should have been the first sign of catastrophe.

“Y/N?” Jungkook says, slightly out of breath. He had ran out of his room so quickly after checking the text that he was pretty sure he had left his keycard in his room. Ah, screw it.

“Oh, you came… Even after I told you it wasn’t important,” you say, your eyes trained on the floor. He notices the slight flush on your neck, and he knows it’s because you are embarrassed.

“Well, the smiley-face gave it away so I know whatever it was, it’s important. You never use smileys, unless you’re being passive-aggressive or sketchy. Either way, you know I would come regardless.” Anything for you.

You smile sheepishly, and you lift your head just high enough that Jungkook catches a glimpse of teary eyes and an anxious crease on your forehead. Before he can comment on it, however, you open the door wider and invite him inside.

“Come in, I don’t want to talk where people can… hear,” you say the last part hastily, and Jungkook’s heart quickens its pace.

The moment the weighted door clicks shut, Jungkook pulls you in for a hug. “Hey, hey,” he hushes you, and it is as if his voice is what finally causes the dam inside of you to break. Your body wracks with disastrous sobs, and Jungkook feels your tears stain his sweater. He squeezes you tighter, as if willing the sadness inside of you to go away.

If only he could transfer that sadness away from you and onto him, then—

“I can’t do it,” you mutter through the sobs, your voice almost indistinct from how pressed your face is against his chest. He pulls you away gently, being careful to wipe some of the stray tears from your cheeks.

“Do what?” He asks, worried. “Did one of your members force you to do something again? You did look a bit down after the concert…”

You shake your head. You let out a laugh, but it sounds more like an angry cough more than anything. He doesn’t miss the way your ears redden before you say, “No, it’s not that…”

“Then what?”

A pause. Then, “I can’t… I can’t confess. I tried to a while ago, but I couldn’t even look at him, Jungkook,” and you sniffle. You shrug your shoulders helplessly. “I’m hopeless.”

Jungkook’s body goes rigid, and he feels his heart drop to his stomach. The rooms suddenly feels small, and he thinks the air is getting sucked out of his lungs.

Oh. He gets it now.

“You… you were really going to do it?” He manages to say, but his voice comes out cracked, unsure.

You shake your head again. “I don’t know,” you push his hands away from you, wrapping your own arms around yourself instead. Jungkook flinches slightly, and his hands sting from where he had been holding you.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I just… I don’t know… I promised myself I was going to do it during dinner, you know? He had asked me if I wanted to go get ice cream after, and I said yes but…” you trail off, and another sob escapes your smaller form. His hands itch to reach for you, but you turn away from him.

“But?” It takes all of Jungkook’s strength to burn the remaining dredges of hope that reside in his heart. Maybe, just maybe, you had chickened out because you realized that someone else loved you more… Someone who just happened to be right in front of you.

He stomps on that thought, hard. Kills it. Burns it.

You let out a frustrated huff. “I don’t know! I just… ran away after saying good night, and now I’m ignoring his calls because I don’t know what to say.” You let out a shaky breath, and turn back to face him. The tears continue to flow, but this time, he doesn’t reach out to wipe them. He doesn’t dare to, lest he let his desires take control of him.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and sighs. “You can’t keep hiding from Jimin-hyung forever,” he says, but his mouth feels like cotton. The words taste bitter, so he spits them out. “He’s going to come crying to me, eventually.”

He doesn’t mean for the words to come out as harshly as they did, so he feels the regret climbing up his throat when he sees your eyes lower, downcast. “I didn’t mean it like it’s your fault…” he tries, but you shrug your shoulders.

No. It’s my fault. I just keep messing things up,” you mumble, and Jungkook feels the love inside himself rise from the ashes, like a phoenix coming back to life. He can’t help it—not when it’s you.

Against his better judgment, he pulls you into a hug again, and this time you don’t push him away. Your shoulders sag the moment his arms find you again, and Jungkook feels that weight transfer onto him. He tries to steel himself before the inevitable drop, he really does, but he doubts anything could have ever prepared him for your next words.

“Hey… Jungkookie?” You lift your head slightly from his hold, and Jungkook’s weak, weak heart shatters when he takes one look into your eyes. They have always been eyes worth killing for, and Jungkook knows whatever it is you were about to ask him, he would do anything to fulfill them.

Even if it meant killing his own heart.

“Yes?”

“Do you think… I could practice on you?”

“Practice? Practice what?”

Your cheeks burn, flushing prettily under the fluorescent light. He wants so desperately to kiss you. “Don’t make me say it again,” you pout.

“I’m afraid I really don’t understand, Y/N. You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”

You purse your lips slightly, and your gaze shifts to the right. “Can… can I practice confessing? Just so I know what to say?”

Jungkook’s heart stops. His fists tighten around your shirt unknowingly, and you gaze worriedly at him. You cup your smaller hands around his cheeks, but it only makes everything infinitely worse. “Jungkook?”

He releases his hold, slowly but surely. He breathes through his nose, in and out. He closes his eyes, and he wills the tears away. He wishes he could say no, just this once. He wishes he could be selfish; he wishes he could tell you that he could never let you say those words to anyone but him—and only if you truly meant them. But he can’t.

He will not cry; he will not let her see.

He will not let her chances of happiness slip away.

He opens his eyes. “Go for it,” but he chokes on the last word, and forces himself to shoot you a wobbly grin. He doubts it’s convincing, and you send him a weary glance back. He digs his nails into the palms of his hands.

You take a step back, and Jungkook’s body unknowingly tries to follow. You look so shy, so fucking hopeful that Jungkook can’t help but project a little. For one minute in his life, he lets himself pretend that it’s for him. That this beautiful, blushing girl in front of him loves him back, and that the words you are about to utter had always been meant for him. Always.

You take a deep breath, and close your eyes. Jungkook tries, oh how he tries, not to memorize the way your eyelashes fan so prettily on your cheeks and the way your lips part slightly, but he knows. He knows that he has always been a lost cause when it came to you.

You open your eyes.

The phoenix inside of him cries for help.

“Jeon Jungkook, I love you. Will you go out with me?” You smile bashfully, but your cheeks flush happily. You giggle slightly at the end, and you don’t seem to notice the way Jungkook’s body goes rigid when you slap his arm playfully.

“Ah, that was so awkward,” you laugh, tears of mirth forming in the corners of your eyes. Jungkook only nods, unable to reply.

You had said his name instead of Jimin. Why?

“That was so bad,” you groan, plopping yourself on your bed. “Do you think he’ll mind?”

Why do you have to make things harder?

When Jungkook doesn’t reply for a while, you finally look at him, and your eyebrow creases with worry. “Jungkook? You alright?”

At the sound of your concerned voice, Jungkook snaps himself out of his reverie. He turns to the door, ready to sprint out of there. He can’t stay another minute in there; he was suffocating. “Yeah, it was great,” he says hurriedly, hoping that he makes it to the door on time. His eyes are burning. “I’m sure he’ll love it. He never shuts up about you, you know?”

Jungkook never shuts up about you too, did you know?

He barely catches your dreamy sigh. “You think so?”

Jungkook slams the final nail to his coffin. He nods his head stiffly. “Of course. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

He doesn’t stay to hear your response. He turns the door knob, and he waits until he hears the weight door click shut. He doesn’t move another step. He can’t.

The hallway is quiet when he cries, and for that, he is grateful.

When the world finally crashes down around him, no one is there to pick up the pieces. And so, he crumbles.

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youreinreality · 7 years ago

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SUITE 0042

based on Dunkirk’s Screen Actors Guild Awards nominations

part 2 of the 2018 AWARD SEASON catch up on the 2018 AWARD SEASON HERE

a/n: thank you for all the lovely responses to this story! I hope you guys are having a good holiday :)

January 21, 2018

I’ve only been at the Screen Actors Guild Awards for about an hour, and I can already tell the difference between my experience here and my experience at the Golden Globes. The first major difference is my internal feelings about the situation. At the Golden Globes, I was petrified. It was my first big award show and I had no idea what to expect, which is why I was so eager to reunite with Saoirse. This time, I’m more comfortable than ever.

Right now, I’m talking to Ryan Seacrest, for E!’s Live at the Red Carpet Special. This is my last interview of the night, and I truly did save the best for last. I’ve never met Ryan before, but there’s a comfort in the way that he asks questions. It’s easy to forget that the conversation you’re having with him is being heard by people all over the world.

“I’m sure you’re not as nervous this time around, now that you guys have a Golden Globe under your belt, right?” Ryan reaches the golden mic over to me.

I clear my throat. “I’m definitely a little bit more relaxed,” I tell him, “But I think that has more to do with the fact that I have a rough idea of how the night will go, this time around. Last time, I had no clue how an award show even works, so I feel really good right now.”

“Well, I imagine nights like this are fun when you have people like Harry Styles by your side.”

There it is. I was wondering how long it would take for the subject to change. I give props to Ryan because he actually had the decency to ask about Lady Bird and my friendship with Saoirse before getting to Harry. My manager warned me that his name would pop up in a couple of interviews, but that was a complete understatement. All the interviews I’ve been in seemed to somehow steer into my “relationship” with Harry.

“Um yeah,” I laugh nervously. I don’t know how to respond because Ryan didn’t really ask a direct question.

However, Ryan’s a professional. He’s been doing this job for years, so he’s quick to notice that I’m at a loss for words. So quick in fact, that he comes up with a follow-up question immediately. “Are you expecting to see him again, tonight?”

“Hopefully,” I answer.

As far as Harry goes, he and I haven’t spoken to each other since that night, not counting the messages we shared the morning after. I replied when I saw his messages, congratulating him and also telling him how great of a night it was. He sent a simple smiley face back, and that was it. So, that’s why I try to tell the journalists that are pestering me with questions about him. There is nothing to explain because there is no relationship.

I’m a big fan of his. We got along really well, that night. That’s it.

Who knows if we will even interact tonight? As far as I know, the only reason why we had such a good time with each other’s company is that Table 42 seated us right next to each other. I’m sure the whole story would’ve been different if it was Saoirse sitting in my seat and/or Fionn sitting in Harry’s seat.

“We probably won’t be sitting at the same table anymore,” I continue. “So, I hope that I get the chance to run into him for like five seconds to say hi or something.” I try to tone my answer down, to show Ryan and his audience that I’ll have a good night anyway. It doesn’t matter if I run into Harry or not. However, it’s far from the truth because Saoirse and I’ve already agreed to try and find Fionn and Harry during the commercial breaks. I don’t feel guilty about it because even though Ryan Seacrest is a friendly guy, he doesn’t need to know every single detail.

“Those pictures of you guys at the Globes looked like you guys were enjoying each other’s company. Should we expect anything to come out of this friendship?” He’s very good at the job. Even that intrusive and forward question is worded in a way that makes it seem like it’s my grandmother asking, so of course, I’d want to tell him the truth.

I talk a little slower than normal, wanting to be sure of the words that are coming out of my mouth. “We literally just met, so I can’t even tell you if it’s even safe to call us ‘friends’, Ryan.” I smile at him sheepishly.

During the Golden Globes, I was completely unaware of the photographers taking pictures the whole night. When Table 42 turned out to be hosting the two big movie winners of the night, the photos of our table became the ones that people were talking about the most. Most of the photos were quite innocent and actually very cute of the four of us all laughing at each other. However, the most popular photo was of Harry and I. It’s a simple photo. We’re leaning into each other. My mouth is open so I must be in the middle of telling him something, and he’s sitting there, listening. I can see why people suggest that we have feelings for each other because, in the picture, our eye contact is impeccable. However, people are reading too much into it because from what I can see, it just looks like he and I are sharing an enjoyable conversation.

“The pictures are very convincing that you guys get along pretty well.” Ryan Seacrest is a killer. If he continues at this pace, I’m going to end up telling my whole life history.

“All I can say is that there’s definitely something special about him,” I say that because it’s the truth, and it shouldn’t be a surprise to anybody. I remember watching other celebrities talk about their interactions with Harry Styles and they’ve said very similar things, so I repeat them. “I don’t really know what it is, but it’s hard not to be smiling when you’re in his presence. I’ll leave it at that.”

Ryan’s smiling, but I can tell from his eyes that I didn’t give him the information he wanted. I merely repeated something that the whole world already knows. “Thank you for your time, Corinna. Have a great night! Corinna Duval, everybody!” He gestures me to the camera, and I wave goodbye to it.

“Thank you for having me!”

To no surprise at all, Saoirse’s already at her seat when I enter the auditorium. She’s been known to be an early bird. She’s easy to spot because this time her dress is a vibrant red gown. When I sit down next to her, I’m not greeted with her usual brightness.

“Babe, you’re late.” she says with a scowl on her face.

“The show starts in two minutes, Saoirse. I made it just in time. Hey, guys!” I wave at Greta and the rest of the Lady Bird crew. It’s then that I notice that our table seats only seven, just enough for the seven representatives of our film to sit down. I’m sandwiched between Greta and Saoirse.

“You look pretty tonight,” I say to Saoirse. She ignores me. “Saoirse, I’m not late.” Suddenly, the lights around the venue dim, and the lights on the stage get brighter. The show’s about to start. “These people are late.” I point out the few people that are running to their seats in the dark. I spot Ryan Gosling as one of them. “Even Ryan Gosling is late. You can’t be mad at me because Ryan Gosling is later than I am.”

Saoirse still has an unhappy look on her face. “I wanted to find Harry and Fionn’s table before the show started.” This time, she’s talking in a whisper because the show has already begun and Kristen Bell, tonight’s host, is already starting her opening monologue.

“Babe, we have the whole night to find them. Why’re you in such a rush?”

“Quiet down, ladies.” Greta jumps into the conversation. Suddenly, I flashback to the times she had to say the same thing to us while we were filming the movie. Both of us glance at her apologetically, and it’s a mutual but silent agreement to continue the conversation later.

During the first commercial break, Saoirse explains why she’s so eager to see Harry and Fionn again. It turns out that she just landed a role in a movie, filming later this year, and they’re still casting some of the male leads. She insists that two of the male roles are perfect for Harry and Fionn. Saoirse only gives me a brief description of the plot, because she’s contractually obligated to keep it a secret. When she explains the potential characters of Harry and Fionn, I can immediately picture them fitting the roles nicely.

“Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” I tell her. I don’t tell her that I doubt Harry will be able to commit to the project because he’s signed on to do a world tour for the rest of the year.

“If I can just get one of them interested in it, that’d be fine,” she adds, almost as if she’d read my mind.

“Wait a minute, where’s my role? You can’t just invite those guys to do a movie with you and leave me out! I’m also a member of Table 42!”

“Films always needs extras, Cori.” Saoirse grins an evil grin. “Now, come on. Let’s go find them.”

Our mission to find Harry and Fionn during the first commercial break is a complete failure, just because Saoirse took up the majority of the time explaining this “project” to me. By the time we got up off of our seats, the one-minute warning is announced. We only have time to wander around the tables surrounding ours. None of the people sitting in the seats look familiar. Well, they do because they’re famous. I accidentally shared eye contact with Meryl Streep, and I may or may not have cried. No one around us seemed to be from Dunkirk. We didn’t see any of the boys that shared Table 42 with us, nor Christopher Nolan.

When it’s time for the second commercial break, our determination to find them is even stronger. However, it quickly disappears because Ryan Gosling comes bouncing up to our table unexpectedly. “Hello!” He pokes his head right in between Saoirse and me.

“Oh my goodness, Ryan.” Saoirse seems unfazed by his appearance, which is the opposite of my reaction, as I’m struggling to breathe with his head right next to mine. “We were going to go do something, so go away.”

“Relax, Saoirse. I just wanted to introduce myself to all the lovely people on this table because they’ve made my favorite movie of the year.” He smiles at us the same way that Noah smiled at Allie in The Notebook. It’s difficult not to swoon. Saoirse rolls her eyes at him, as Ryan turns to me. “Corinna, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You were my favorite part of this movie.”

“T-Thank you.” I’m struggling with what to say because I never really imagined that Ryan Gosling, would be talking to me, let alone, giving me a compliment. So, I say the only sentence that’s floating on my mind, “You’re my favorite part of life.”

“Cori!” Saoirse screams and reaches over to cover my mouth. “Excuse her. She tends to say really stupid things when she’s nervous.”

Ryan’s laughing, but it sounds like it’s from genuine pleasure. “Even my wife doesn’t say nice things like that to me. Thank you, Corinna.” He pats my head and moves on to greet the rest of the table. Saoirse doesn’t remove her hand from my mouth until Ryan leaves. He waves goodbye to me as he leaves, which makes me want to die even more. As soon as he’s out of sight, Saoirse lets me go.

“Are you out of your mind, Cori? You can’t say that to people you’ve just met.” She sounds frustrated. Half of the reasoning could be that I just embarrassed myself in front of her good friend, and the other half could be the fact that we wasted another commercial break and still have no idea where Fionn and Harry are.

“You don’t think I know that?” My tone sounds equally frustrated. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Saoirse. I swear it just came out. This is exactly why I can’t meet people like that without a warning.”

“I didn’t know he was coming either, so don’t blame me. He just really likes the movie for some reason. I don’t even know what he’s doing here. He’s not even nominated for anything.”

“Saoirse, I’m sure when you’re someone like Ryan Gosling, you can come to these things just because you want to.”

“How come you didn’t act like that when we met Harry at the Globes?” She surprises me with the subject change.

I shrug because I don’t even think I know the answer to the question. “That was different.” I pause. “He’s different.”

Saoirse looks at me with her eyebrows raised. “Do you like him?”

“Ugh,” I groan. “You sound like an interviewer.”

“Fine, don’t answer it.” Saoirse never pushes anything, which is a nice quality to have. If the roles were reversed, I would be questioning her until she gives me an answer I’m satisfied with. “Can we please just promise to find them by the next commercial break? I want to talk to them about this movie before anyone else offers them anything.”

For the first time since the night started, my phone lights up. The first thing that comes to mind is that’s it’s a notification telling me that Harry sent me a message, probably wondering why Saoirse and I have yet to come over and say hi. I feel Saoirse look over my shoulder, which tells me she’s thinking the same thing. I pick up my phone to get a closer look, but it’s just a text from my manager, telling me that he’s pleased with all my red carpet interviews.

“You could just message him and ask him where they are, can’t you?”

“What’s the fun in that? I like this little mission that we have.” I put my phone back down on the table. “We’ll find them during the next break.”

“Can you just message him and asks if he’s interested in a movie?”

I roll my eyes at her desperation, and at that same time, the lights dim, and the show continues, and the conversation abruptly ends. I’m glad the conversation finishes because I know that Saoirse would’ve found a way to persuade me to message him. It also goes both ways. Harry could easily message and ask me where I am, but he’s also chosen not to. I hope it’s for a good reason too.

When the third commercial break happens, Saoirse and I don’t even need to look at each other. We’re out of our seats, and we join the madness of people that are wandering around as well. I start weaving myself through the tables, trying to remember the faces that sat with us at Table 42. I’m about to give up when I see Christopher Nolan also walking around. I move towards his general direction, the opposite way that I’ve been searching, and I’m so focused on keeping my eye on him that I don’t even notice that I’ve led myself to where Saoirse is.

She seems unaffected by my random appearance. “Perfect timing Cori. Look who I found.”

Fionn Whitehead is out of his seat and I’m tucked under his arms within seconds. “Cori!” I’m amazed by his quick display of affection since we didn’t talk that much at the Globes. If anything, we only ever talked when Harry put us in the same conversation. “Harry and I have been looking for you guys for ages. How’d you find us?”

“Just had to look for a table with a sea of men.” Saoirse shrugs as if it was the simplest task in the world. I look at their table and it’s a true statement. It’s also a seven-seater, with a bunch of beautiful men surrounding it. I notice the empty seat next to Fionn and assume that it’s Harry’s. I unwrap myself from Fionn’s arms to ask him where Harry is, but Saoirse beats me to it. “Where’s the curly haired one?”

“Bathroom, I think. Or backstage. I don’t know. He mumbles a lot, so sometimes I can’t even understand what he’s saying. Something with a ‘B’!”

I can’t help but smile at his response because it’s true. The only reason why I can understand what Harry’s saying is because I’m giving him my full attention. If I were to only be giving him 90% of my attention, I’d be completely lost in what he’s saying. Luckily, his voice and his face make it kind of easy to not pay attention to anything other than him when he’s speaking. I imagine that it’s a different feeling for Fionn, and he dozes off with his conversations with Harry sometimes.

“You should go find him.” Saoirse nudges my shoulder. “I have to talk to Fionn anyway.”

Fionn’s eyes widen. “Did I do something at the Golden Globes? Listen, Saoirse. I was really drunk, so please forgive me if I did anything stupid.”

I don’t get to hear Saoirse’s response, even though I want to because I’m already trying to find the bathrooms. Since it took us so long to find one member of the second half of Table 42, I expect that finding the last member will take even more time. I exit the venue and walk around the hallways, trying to find the bathrooms. My assumptions are immediately proven wrong. It seems that the world actually wants me to finally find him. I turn the corner to the next part of the hallway, and I run into the chest of the one person I’ve been waiting to see all night.

“Oh sorry about that.” His deep and monotonous voice leaves me breathless once again. His head is down, so he doesn’t recognize me just yet. When he raises his head, the smile that I’ve been looking forward to seeing finally appears. I don’t understand how it can even be any more beautiful than what I had envisioned in my mind. “Actually, I take that back. I’m not sorry at all.” He points at me. “You’re the one that actually ran into me, Cori.”

Just like that, the fangirl side of me disappears. I’m glad that side of me doesn’t last long because I much prefer being with Harry when I’m calm and normal. I notice that the fangirl side of me only appears when Harry is silent and I’m doing nothing but stare at him. It immediately disappears once he says something silly to me.

I cross my arms. “The rule is to always walk on the right side of the hallway, Harry. I know that in England, you drive your cars on the left side of the road, but you’re not a car.” I pat his shoulder because it takes less effort to reach his shoulder than his head, almost like how a mother would pat a child. “So stay to the right, please.”

There are crinkles around his green eyes, he’s smiling so much. “You win this one, Cori. Can I give you a hug now?”

“Harry Styles is accepting defeat. What a rare moment.” I let out a dramatic sight. “Hold on, let me savor it for a second.”

“Yes, he’s giving up because he missed his friend and has been looking for her all night. And now he still doesn’t understand why he’s been talking to her for at least thirty seconds now and he still hasn’t hugged her.” His arms are wide open, inviting me into his warmth.

My fangirl side makes an appearance as soon as I hear the sentence and all of a sudden I accept defeat too. I step forward and land in his embrace, and even though the night is still not over, I already know that hugging him is going to be the thing I look back on when I remember my first SAG Awards Experience The feeling of his hug is hard to describe because it’s a feeling that I’ve never really experienced in my life. His body automatically molds to fit mine. His arms lock me in tightly to his chest and he’s tracing his fingers along my back. His chin is tucked right in the crook of my neck, and I feel him breathe in “Nice to see you again, Cori.” He says it so delicately that I feel goosebumps all over my body. “You look beautiful.”

“So do you,” I whisper back. Although, the truth is I haven’t even given myself time to stare at the suit he’s wearing tonight. All I’ve been staring at is his face, but the statement still rings true. He looks impeccably handsome tonight.

I wonder what we look like to the strangers who are sharing the hallway with us. We’re holding each other so close and so tightly that I imagine we look like a couple to anyone who’s passing by. We’re not though. We’re merely two people that have missed each other’s presence. We’re holding on to each other so tightly that I never want to let go because it would mean losing the warmth his body is giving me

“Wait a second.” I pull away from him and held my hand with his. If people were to look at us now, it would have looked like we were exchanging vows at our wedding alter. “Your hands.” I look down and play with his fingers. They feel warm. The only cold thing I feel is the metal from the rings that are placed on his fingers.

“I washed them after I went to the bathroom, I promise!” He doesn’t seem to realize what I’ve realized.

“No, no. Your hands,” I repeat. “They’re not cold anymore. They’re so warm.”

Harry seems happy with my observation, and he lets go of my hands and reaches for his pockets. He takes a second to grab whatever’s in there. When he finally has it, he shows it to me. A tiny cotton bag is in each of his hands. If it weren’t for my younger years spent in the northeast, where winters are pretty brutal, I wouldn’t have recognized them.

“You got hand warmers?” It’s hard to contain the smile on my face.

The look on his face is one to remember. Nothing but glee. It’s a smile that I’ve seen in pictures, and I never thought I would be lucky to see in real life. I don’t know how long we stay staring at each other with some of the happiest looks on our faces.

Harry breaks it. He looks down and clears his throat, probably realizing the intense moments we’ve been sharing for the past few minutes. When he looks up again, there’s still a smile on his face, but it’s not as big. I like to think that he told himself to tone it down. “I got them that way you wouldn’t have to complain about how cold they were every time I poke you.” His fingers poke both of my cheeks. “See?”

The gesture is sweet and one to remember. For a second, I feel uncomfortable because it seems too romantic to do for someone that you’ve only met twice. “Please tell me you didn’t do this just for me.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t.” He’s quick to answer, but his tone is honest and trusting. The worry I have goes away immediately. “Ever since you pointed them out, I started to get self-conscious about them. I shook a lot of hands at the Globes and I was wondering how many hated my cold fingers as much as you did.”

“Harry, I-“

“Relax.” He notices the panicked expression on my face. Truly, the last thing I meant to do was make Harry Styles insecure about himself. “All is well, Cori.” The genuine tone of his voice assures me that I have nothing to be sorry for. All of a sudden, he perks up. “I’m sure if the press finds out about this, they’ll make it sound like I did it just for you.”

It isn’t until now that I notice that we’re walking. There’s a comfortable distance between us. Not too big that we’re leaning against the hallway walls, but not too close where I feel our hands and shoulders crash into each other every time we take a step. Harry’s slightly in the lead because of his long strides, but I don’t even know if he knows exactly where we’re headed. All I notice is that we’re walking in the opposite direction of where the award show is happening. The sound of the award show is carried throughout this whole building, but as we continue to walk, it gets harder and harder to hear what’s being said. The show must be continuing without us.

Harry looks back at me, probably noticing my silence. I clear my throat. “I hope they don’t find out about it then,” I tell him. “I’m already getting enough hate comments as it is,” I say the last sentence without even thinking about the effect it would have on him.

Harry stops walking so suddenly that his shoes make the floor squeak. This time when he looks at me, sadness is written all over his facial features. I instantly regret bringing it up. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know that there were going to be pictures and-“

I interrupt him because there’s no point in apologizing for something that is out of his control. “You don’t need to apologize, H.” Again, calling him by that letter comes without any thought on my part. The only reason why I notice I did is that a faint smile appears on his face when he hears it. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m a fan. So I’m aware that all this crazy stuff comes with the territory of knowing you.”

“And you don’t mind?” His eyes dig into mine, looking for the truth.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

He’s satisfied with my answer, and we continue walking. “I just wouldn’t want your boyfriend to freak out or anything.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Good to know.” He looks back at me, this time with no trace of sadness on his face. There are crinkles around his eyes again, and his dimples have resurfaced. He’s such a flirt. He pokes my cheek again.

I roll my eyes at him. “Why? Is your girlfriend getting upset?”

“I’m actually single.”

“Good to know.” I mimic his tone of voice. I hear him chuckle and it makes my heart smile, knowing I’m the reason for it. The mood between us is already lighter. Then, nothing but silence is in the air. Unlike at the Globes, I don’t feel uncomfortable with the quietness, so I don’t make an effort to say anything. I’m happy to see that Harry lets the silence continue too. If anything, it emphasizes even more how comfortable we’ve gotten with each other within such a short amount of time.

We speak again when the hallway we’ve been walking in reaches a dead end. By this point, I don’t know how far we’ve ventured off to. The only reason why I know we’re still in the same building as the award show is because the end of the hallway has a table holding replicas of the actual SAG award. Right next to it is a door that looks like it leads to a room with a big leather sofa.

Harry reaches the table first and immediately picks one up. “So that’s how it feels to hold a SAG award.” He hands one for me to feel.

“You’ll probably get to hold it again when Dunkirk wins tonight,” I remind him.

He sighs. “I don’t think Dunkirk’s winning anything tonight, Cori.”

“Why not?” I’m confused as to why he sounds so sure.

He then goes on to explain to me that Dunkirk’s chances of winning a SAG are much smaller since there is only one Best Movie category tonight. At the Golden Globes, they split it into two categories, which is why both of our movies won that night. Apparently, it’s been expressed by a majority of influential people that Lady Bird will win tonight. I wondered why no one told Saoirse and me anything about this, but then Harry explains to me that it wouldn’t make sense to tell us since we’re in the movie and our reaction wouldn’t be as genuine.

“Yeah, we were told we didn’t even have to come tonight because we might only be winning Best Director, and Chris is the only one that needs to accept that.”

“So, why did you come?” It seems like a waste of a night to me. The best part of these award shows is the anticipation of whether or not you’ll win. The show seems quite boring if you already know the results.

He puts his award down and reaches for mine to put it back too. “Table 42, of course.”

I shake my head because I don’t know why I didn’t guess that that would be his answer. Of course, he says that. Of course, those words make my heart flutter. “You always know what to say to make a girl speechless, don’t you?”

He shrugs and runs his hand through his hair. “It comes with the territory.” The amusement in his voice is crystal clear as he repeats what I said to him before.

“You’re unbelievable.” I walk past him, my shoulder brushing against his. I decide to go into the room next to the table. The only things occupying the room is the brown couch that I saw from the hallway and another brown couch across from it. I sit down on the one furthest from the door, and Harry sits on the other one.

“Cori, you know I’m kidding, right?” he asks as soon as his butt lands on the sofa. His legs are crossed and his arms are stretched out on the back of the sofa.

I’m shaking my head at him. “You’re not though. It’s ridiculous how compelling you are.”

“Compelling?”

At first, I think making comments about his character would be something that would make him uncomfortable. But the look on his face isn’t telling me to stop talking about it. Instead, it’s of curiosity. As if, he wants to hear more of what I have to say about him.

So, I continue. “There’s just something about you, Harry. I don’t know what it is but you just make people feel so comfortable around you. It’s like it’s your superpower or something.”

His face is hard to read, but he stays silent. I interpret it as a sign telling me to clarify. “For example, when I met you at the Globes, I was so nervous. I looked at you and I couldn’t believe that someone I’ve supported for years was right in front of me. I didn’t know what to say.”

“You told me that it was fun watching me go around the table for no reason.” I like that there’s a smile on his face as he replays our first interaction in his head.

“Exactly. Do you know the first thing I said to Ryan Gosling when I saw him earlier?”

“Do I even want to know?” He’s covering his eyes, fearful of what I’m about to say to him. I don’t have the strength to tell him that covering his eyes will not help him avoid hearing my embarrassing encounter.

I decide to not tell him, just to save the cringe of having to relive that embarrassing moment. “The point is, I just want to thank you for having whatever quality it is that makes me really comfortable with you, even though I just met you and you’re one of the biggest stars in the world.”

Harry surprises me when he stands up from his couch and walks over to the couch that I’m sitting in. He takes the empty spot next to me and presses his finger to my cheek. “You do realize you do the same thing to me, right?”

I rub the part of my face that he poked, trying to cover up the blush that may be appearing. Now it’s my turn to stare at him with curiosity. “How so?”

He leans in to get closer to me, and his green eyes are enchanting to look at. He whispers softly, “I don’t know how obvious it is, but I’m very new at this acting thing.”

Then, the intimate moment disappears. I can’t help but roll my eyes because it’s very obvious and he knows that.

When he sees me do it, he pokes me again. He clears his throat and continues. “Then I meet you, Cori. Then, I’m immediately at ease. At first, I don’t understand why. Then, I realized tonight that it’s because you’re going through the same emotions that I am.”

“What about, Fionn?”

He shakes his head. “Fionn was born to be in this world. He’s so good at talking to these people. Meanwhile, I can’t even stay in my seat during the commercial break because I’m so nervous to see who might come up and talk to me.”

“Well, that’s relatable.” It’s funny how he’s describing his situation and it perfectly mirrors my experience with Saoirse.

He continues, “That’s why I’m clinging on to you so much. We’re both out of our elements. So, it’s an honor to be experiencing all this shit with you.

“Whenever you need me, H. I’m here.” I reach for his hand and squeeze it, just to assure him even more.

A smile creeps on his face as he looks at our interlocked hands. “So I’ll see you at the next one?”

I assume he’ talking about the Academy Awards, scheduled in two weeks. “We’ll get through this season together,” I promise him.

I don’t know how long we end up staying in that room for. Our conversations come so naturally, it seems like time freezes. I can’t even count how many times Harry’s poked me or the number of times I’ve rolled my eyes at him. We get stuck talking about One Direction. Harry’s intrigued to know how I heard about them and why I chose to stick around and support them. As I tell him my answers, I can’t help but reference iconic moments during the five years of the band. He lights up when I talk about how much I enjoyed watching the cooking videos and challenges they did during the X Factor days. He’s completely lost when I try to get him to understand the importance of fanfiction. He’s disappointed when I tell him that I’ve only seen them perform live twice.

I’m about to tell him that Liam was and still is my favorite member of One Direction when we’re interrupted by someone at the door. We’re so captivated by our conversation with each other that neither of us notices that Saoirse has peeked her head into the room. I see a SAG award in her hand, which means that she must’ve won Best Actress already.

Before I get a chance to congratulate her, she’s screaming at us. “THERE YOU GUYS ARE!” Her head disappears for a second. “FIONN, THEY’RE IN HERE.”

A moment later, Fionn appears alongside the doorway as well. Both of them are panting heavily as they look at Harry and me with the deadliest glare. It feels like our parents have just caught us after sneaking out of the house.

“You’re coming with me.” Saoirse grabs my arm and drags me out of the sofa. “Don’t even try, Styles,” he says to Harry, who started to reach for my other arm so he can pull me back down. “Our categories are up next. We have to go.” Saoirse is pulling my arm with so much strength that I don’t even get the chance to say goodbye to Harry and Fionn. As Saoirse is dragging me down the hallway, I try to protest and ask for a chance to say goodbye but she doesn’t budge. Within minutes, we’re back at the table and I've immersed in the craziness of the SAGs again.

To everyone’s surprise, except me, we end up taking home the SAG award for Best Film. Similar to the feeling at the Golden Globes, the next few minutes are nothing but a complete blur. Lots of excitement and screaming and tears, as once again, we get recognition for the hard work we all put in to make the movie. I expect the night to end the same way it does at the Globes, without a chance to even say goodbye to Harry.

As we finish the press line, I’m surprised to hear my phone buzz. I clutch the award into my chest as I reach for my phone. I smile when I see the notification.

Direct Message from @Harry_Styles: I’m hoping you’re still hanging around here somewhere. I’m still in the little room. xx H

It takes me about five seconds to quickly resign from the Lady Bird crew. I get away so quickly that Saoirse doesn’t even have a chance to question where I’m headed. I retrace the steps that Harry and I took to get to the room, and I find myself back in the hallway with the dead end in less than ten minutes. I expect Harry to be waiting in the room for me, but he isn’t. Instead, he’s leaning against the door with his arms crossed and a smirk planted on his face. He looks like a masterpiece.

When I reach him, he’s eyeing the SAG award in my hand. “I told you,” is all he says to me, before pulling me into his chest. “Congratulations, Cori.” he breathes into my ear. He’s squeezing me so hard that I find myself losing my balance. Before I know it, both of us are swaying back and forth as we’re holding on to each other. I have to be the one to pull away after a few minutes because I’ve come to notice that Harry doesn’t break the hug first. He notices that I’m starting to back away from him and he secures his arms around my waist, stopping me from pulling away any further. I’m out of his chest, but now we’re latched on to each other’s waists.

“Why’d you come back here?” I have to look up at him when I ask the question. “I could’ve gone back to your table to see you.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you asked.” He lets go of me and walks over to the door of the small room. He’s pointing at the little plaque that has the room number in it.

I gasp when I see it.

Suite 0042

“You want to know something, Cori?”

I look up at him, awaiting his answer.

“I think 42’s my new favorite number.”

I say nothing because I have no idea how to respond to something like that. I find myself stuck in a situation I’ve been in a few times now: completely transfixed and compelled by Harry Styles. He’s smiling at me, probably pleased with himself for leaving me at a loss for words once again. I reach up and poke the two dimples that are beaming down on me, just to remind myself that this moment is real.

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