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sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year

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The Sun Will Rise

Wake Up, Chapter 8

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In an attempt to stop the advances of an unwanted suitor, Matt Murdock accidentally condemns you to being his fake girlfriend.

warnings: sexual assault themes and descriptions, if non-con themes trigger you please do not read. other warnings: swearing, misogynistic language, violence

This chapter is very intense. I tried to keep the S/A stuff as not graphic as possible to avoid triggering people but it is very much there and the violence is more present than any other chapter.

a/n: Today has been a fucking DAY yall. My new cat got sick (he’s ok he just ate too fast and then got sick on me and my bed which was gross), I am having issues with pay equity at work, and trying to deal with utility issues in my house. I am very sorry for the late update. PLEASE let me know how you feel about this chapter, your comments and reblogs literally make my day every week.

w/c: ~4.5k

Four years ago, you’d been desperate for a change. Despite spending thousands on a fancy degree, you had gotten nowhere in the legal field and your job waiting tables at a diner in Queens barely paid the bills, though you were grateful for the work.

Pouring coffee and taking orders wasn’t the worst job you’d ever had and the majority of customers during your shifts were sweet. You played the role of “cute, friendly waitress” well, making even the grouchiest patrons appreciate your soft smile and quick response time. Maybe this persona you’d adopted in your efforts to avoid your crippling anxiety was the reason he started looking your way. Perhaps it was your obvious desperation to be liked. Whatever it was that drew his attention, it was your eventual disinterest that kept it.

The first day you met James Lannister was a shitty one. You’d worked a double shift, meaning you had been less than perky towards the end of it, leading to stupid mistakes and screaming customers. Emotions were running high when he took a seat in your section, so his calm demeanor and attentive smile drew you in.

He’d only made pleasant conversation with you the first few visits. Asking about your day, your week, your hobbies, your interests, your family, your aspirations. Anyone would’ve been eager to spill their guts to him, he was quite charming. The way that his green eyes pooled with fascination as you spoke was almost reverent. No man in your life had ever made you feel that way, like nothing else in the room mattered.

Which is why the red flags zipped right by you without triggering your internal security system. Day after day, he’d visit your place of work after his own shift at the Pro Bono Association. He’d ask his questions and encourage you to ask your own, which led to a standing invitation to sit with him when there was a lull in traffic at the restaurant. Your shared interest in the legal system and his willingness to share a slice of that life with you compelled you to take him up on the offer.

Next came the gifts. Little things, at first. Large tips, suggestions for weekend entertainment complete with a gift card or fully funded ticket, books to further your legal studies after work. It was strange, but the attention was divine. He wasn’t an ugly man, and you’d never felt noticed like this before.

Eventually, he’d goaded you into joining him and his wife for dinner at their house. Mrs. Lannister was beautiful and cunning. On the surface, she was always polite, reassuring, more than willing to host you or have you join them in public, but there was an ominous undercurrent that you never could place. The way she looked at you when her husband turned his back was almost murderous, but you were so caught up in the idea of being wanted that you glossed over the tension between the two of you.

You were lonely, sure, but you never wanted romance or…other things…from Lannister. To you, he was a mentor, an idol. Someone to live vicariously through while in a transition period in life. But after accepting all of his kindnesses, you’d unknowingly crossed a line.

Before it all fell apart, it almost seemed like universal intervention. During a seemingly mundane conversation, Lannister clasped his hands over yours with a giddy expression. It seemed that there was an entry level position opening up at the PBA office in Queens and he thought you’d be perfect for it. Not only would it be a substantial pay raise from your current position, but there were opportunities for growth and he would be your boss.

At the time, it felt like a miracle. Your ticket to the next stage of your life. And it was, but letting your guard down for that shark ended up being the biggest regret of your life.

Transitioning into your new role wasn’t seamless, but you took it in stride. Your eagerness to take on complex projects and expand the mission of the organization impressed the more seasoned employees. Lannister began taking you to lunches, galas, drinks, anywhere that he could introduce you to his network of attorneys. It was thrilling to be thrown into the world you’d always dreamed of and received with such open arms.

For a few months, it was pure bliss. Until the night you placed your first case.

Placing the case itself was unproblematic, you were happy that you fit into the role so well—and you expressed such sentiments to Lannister who invited you over to his house to celebrate. Arriving with a bottle of your favorite wine, it was immediately clear that something had changed. The once cozy house was in absolute disarray, riddled with empty liquor bottles and boxes of feminine clothes. And, although Lannister had implied there would be others there, you found him alone.

Lannister noticed your wandering eyes and explained that his wife had left him. He told you not to worry about that and to focus on your personal success. The two of you enjoyed some good food and cheap wine, the older man drifting closer by the glass. Eventually, you felt your eyes growing heavy and he insisted that you stay over given the late hour.

That night, you dreamt of a large shadow, looking over you while you slept, warm touch dancing over your clothes. You tried to protect yourself, but your arms wouldn’t respond to the commands your brain sent. When you woke up, you found your skirt unzipped.

It got blurry after that. Lannister’s very public divorce led to inopportune inebriation, massive hangovers in the office, lewd comments, and wandering hands. While you still accompanied him to events, he began claiming you in public in increasingly repulsive ways. Holding you by the waist, kissing your cheeks, stroking his fingers over your neck, using that disgusting pet name. My little Princess.

You only tried expressing your discomfort once before it escalated. You’d approached him in his office after lunch, when he was likely to be more sober, and hesitantly asked if he would consider pulling back. You’d been met with the most terrifying display of anger you’d ever seen. You hazily recall books being thrown, hits landing along your arms and torso, insults being hurled at you.

He had made you. You would be nothing without him. You were ungrateful and whoreish and conniving just like his wife. While the memories faded, the scars from your skin splitting over the hinges of his office door still shone in certain lights.

After that his actions were deliberate. His lingering touches scalded you. Being alone with him meant sentencing yourself to torture. When he was angry, he’d call you into his office to “talk it through.” To your absolute horror, these talks often involved a locked door and drunk hands groping your trembling form.

For weeks you endured his abrupt switches between calculated insults, physical abuse, emotional manipulation, and inappropriate contact. You were barely alive, going through the motions and slowly convincing yourself that you deserved it. You’d fallen out of contact with your friends, were so emotionally fragile that a stern look from a stranger could send you into a panic attack, and you found yourself so nauseous that the first few hours of each day were spent hugging a toilet.

It was clear you needed help, but Lannister was your boss and his threats terrified you. He’d made it clear that if anyone found out about his behavior, it would cost you your livelihood. As an incredibly well-known attorney with an impeccable record, there was no way you’d win in court, he had too many friends on the force or the bench. Not to mention how new you were to the organization. Despite his growing alcoholism, your coworkers were as enamored with Lannister as you used to be, the chances of them believing you were minimal.

So, you stayed, trapped in a nightmare of your own unintentional creation. Until a position opened up in Manhattan.

Applying on a whim, you’d kept your application a secret, not expecting to even get an interview. But, apparently the managing attorney across the East River had heard your name through the grapevine because she reached out within the week to schedule a lunch with you.

The heavy weight that hung over your shoulders like a shadow has lessened considerably in the days leading up to the lunch. The possibility of escaping the hell you were living in quickly appeared like the light at the end of the tunnel.

Manhattan was beautiful and the employees of the PBA office in Midtown were ecstatic to meet you. It was the best day you’d had in months, until you got back to your own office.

Realizing you’d forgotten an important file you needed for a clinic the next day, you walked briskly through the quiet building, hoping to get in and out without running into your supervisor. Unfortunately, the world was not that gracious.

As you rummaged through your desk, the overhead lights turned on making you flinch. Your hands stilled over the file cabinet, your breath catching on your throat.

“You little bitch.” Lannister was furious if the rage dripping from his tone was any indication. “Tell me, Princess, why did I receive a call from Midtown about how happy they were to have finally met my assistant?”

You couldn’t speak, your throat constricting as if wrapped with fabric. Frozen in place, you heard him approaching and you cowered.

“Thought you could go behind my back? Leave me high and dry without a warning? You owe me, little princess. After all I’ve done for you…”

Whether from fear or something else entirely, your brain blocked out the rest of his actions that night. You came to shaking on the floor, bloody and partially undressed, but you weren’t alone. Lannister had disappeared, thankfully, but your coworker stepped into your office with a shaky inhale.

Erica was a young attorney who’d started a few weeks before you. Your emotional state had made it difficult to grow close to anyone in the office, but she’d always seemed sweet. And, fortunately for you in the end, she’d heard the commotion your boss had caused before storming home.

As your wonderful coworker helped you clean yourself up, you tearily confessed the secrets you’d worked so hard to hide. Disgusted, Erica had encouraged you to speak to HR and you’d submitted a complaint later that day with her assistance.

You owed Erica a great debt. Over the period of the investigation, she’d become a fixture in your office, making sure to keep you at a distance from your abuser. Without your prompting, she’d offered the committee looking into the allegations her full testimony. You were quite certain that her statement is the reason Lannister was fired.

In the weeks following his termination, you felt like a new woman. You’d moved to a cute little place in Hell’s Kitchen and begun your new work as a volunteer coordinator. While you still struggled with crowds of lawyers and the taste of alcohol, a good therapist and a decent amount of time had helped you heal a considerable amount.

Enough to open yourself up for the possibility of a relationship, which you weren’t sure you’d ever want after everything you’d been through. Meeting Matt had changed that though, turning ‘never’ into a ‘not right now’.

Sweet, considerate, adorable Matt who had brought you more comfort than you ever thought you deserved. Who was probably still furious with you for falling for him, but you couldn’t help but plead with the universe to send him anyway. Please, Matty, please come for me.

As the muggy van rumbled over potholes and uneven roads, you pictured his beautiful face. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. How his brow furrowed with concern over the most minor harm that had befallen you. The beautiful way his lips melded with yours as a single kiss made you feel weightless. You regretted not kissing him one last time before ruining what you had.

I’m sorry, darling. Please don’t let them take me from you. I’m not ready to let you go just yet.

As Matt neared the 4th floor, a knawing pit of dread grew in his stomach. He could smell your tears, newer than those that had fallen after he’d left, but your heartbeat was nowhere to be found. Frantically pacing the hallway, he quickly noticed your suitcase abandoned a few feet from the door to your shared room. Crouching down, he tilted his head, evaluating the scene. The scent of your fear coated the floor, walls, and fabric of your bag. You must have been terrified for it to penetrate your surroundings to that degree. Underneath your pheromones, Matt shuddered with rage as the sickly saccharine fragrance of Beatrice Snyder’s reached his sensitive nose. Mingling with her perfume was a different smell, smoky and dark.

You’d been cornered by Snyder and an unidentified man, he was sure of it. Fumbling to find the right end of his key card, he threw open the door and stripped out of his suit. Given that he’d intended to share the night with you, he’d intentionally left his body armor at home. A black long sleeve tee and scarf around his face would have to do tonight.

Stepping back into the empty hallway, he fled to the stairs. While the scent of your fear only fueled his dark anger, it was strong enough to leave a trail down the stairs and out the back door into the cool night air. As inconspicuously as possible, Matt navigated through the building, dodging employees and guests successfully until he reached the loading dock behind the kitchen. Your scent stopped here, replaced by the smell of gasoline.

No, no, no. Where are you, angel? What happened to you?

Matt growled in frustration, spinning around desperately searching for any sign of you, he ripped his phone out of his pocket and pressed your speed dial, hoping that you could still reach your phone.

Receiving nothing but your voicemail message in return, he felt his fists clench. “It’s going to be ok, my beautiful girl. I’m coming.”

Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took off in the direction of the strong scent of auto fuel, praying to God that the most recent vehicle would lead him to you.

The van jolted to an abrupt stop and you slid along the dirty carpet into a seat in front of you. Your back ached from the jostling you’d gotten on the ride to whatever destination you’d apparently arrived at, and you could feel the imprint of thousands of plastic carpet strands that had melded with the flesh on your cheek during the drive. The sound of car doors slamming and the heavy footfalls following made you strain against your binds one final time.

A large, rough hand snatched your ankle, yanking you towards the night air at the tail end of the vehicle. Kicking your legs wildly, you flopped like a dying fish along the carpet as you were slowly pulled outside. The fingers at your ankle moved to wrap around your throat, forcing the airway to constrict. Struggling fiercely against your captor, you heard a familiar, rasping voice from behind you snarl, “Shut her up, you idiot!”

Lannister’s goon pressed a sharp implement against the soft flesh of your stomach. “Keep movin’ and you’ll lose a lot more than your man, bitch.”

As your squirming died down, reality set in and tears began flooding down your face. It was over. He’d won. All of the efforts that went into putting distance between the two of you were meaningless. He’d found you, and Snyder was going to take Matt from you because of it.

You were roughly stood on your feet and forced to move in the trail of Lannister and his other goon. Eventually, you were forced into a cold metal chair, binds attached to the stiff bars of the furniture. Your blindfold was ripped off, though your gag remained. James Lannister’s ferocious grin appeared in your line of vision, making you flinch. “So glad we’ve been reunited, Princess. We’re gonna have some fun.”

The group had taken you to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. There were broken wooden palettes and scraps of steel scattered around the floor. Holes in the sheet metal walls allowed cold, winter air to blow crisp waves of wind through the space, raising the hairs on your neck. A gaping hole in the roof above you showers you in moonlight, illuminating a small s circle around you and Lannister.

A knife glinted in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, squirming involuntarily. Lannister grabbed a fistful of your shirt, yanking you forward with a growl. “The more you squirm, the more damage I do, little princess. I’d hold still if I were you.”

With that warning, he slashed a jagged cut in your top, nicking the skin along your collarbone. A hand ran over your hair, grasping the strands and tugging so that your face was turned towards your captor’s once again. “There’s my obedient little pet. Was wondering where she’d gone.”

Bile rose in your throat as Lannister stroked his massive hands along your face, planting heated, bourbon-soaked kisses along your neck and down your chest. Prying away your torn clothes, he turned to face the goons. “Is it ready?”

“Yes, sir.” One deep voice responded from the shadows of the warehouse beyond your visible surroundings. “Before I have my fun,” Lannister stepped aside, revealing a tall dark shape topped with a blinking red light. “I’d like to record a confession, dear. For my sanity, and for the board to know the truth.”

Raising his barely slurred voice, he turned to the camera.

“State your name, for the record.”

“Please don’t do this. I don’t—“ Your pleading morphed into a screech of pain as the point of the blade ripped a gash in the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“Wrong answer, pet.” Lannister took a swig from a practically empty bottle of liquor that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. A trail of blood wormed its way to the cement floor, pooling at your feet. You stared at the river of red liquid for a moment before stammering out your name.

“That’s a good pet. What’s your relation to me, my dear?” Chucking the now empty bottle aside, it shattered at your feet, spraying you with cheap alcohol and pieces of glass.

“I worked with you. In Queens.” A smaller knife plunged into the meat of your thigh and you screamed in agony. The larger of the two goons shuffled into your wavering vision, smiling as he wiped your blood from his hands.

“More specific, Princess.” Lannister spat at you.

“You were my boss.”

“That’s right. Now tell us, how did you get me fired?”

You sobbed, “I didn’t, I wasn’t—“ Grasping the knife still planted in your leg, Lannister twisted it, grabbing your throat.

“Yes you did, you miserable bitch. You ruined my fucking life. I lost my divorce settlement, my job, my house, my reputation. All because I took an ungrateful slut under my wing.” Ripping the blade from your body, he hurled you to the ground.

“TELL THE TRUTH!” Lannister roared, sending a brutal kick into your chest and knocking the air from your lungs. “Tell them that you seduced me for months and then used me to land a promotion. TELL THEM THAT YOU TOOK MY ENTIRE LIFE FROM ME AFTER I’D GIVEN YOU EVERYTHING!”

Stomping over your body again, he stumbled backwards allowing you to cough out a response. “I—I took everything f-from you. I was un-ungrateful.”

Lannister cackled, pulling you from the ground by your uninjured arm. “Turn the camera off. They won’t want to see this next part.”

The goons stepped forward to follow your former boss’s orders, but a piercing sound from outside halted them in their tracks. A horrific shriek, the sound of metal grinding on metal, echoed through the warehouse. All three men froze, looking to each other as if expecting to find the cause of the noise at the hands of their fellow assholes. Dropping you hard onto your shoulder, Lannister turned towards the source of the creaking and your head lolled after him.

As the door to the warehouse slammed open, you cried in relief as your weak gaze made out the black clad figure against the night sky. Daredevil. Your devil. He came for you. Tears poured down your cheeks and your limbs tensed, Matt’s presence drawing you in like a magnet.

Lannister huffs out a laugh. “The fuck do you want, shadow man? Don’t you have robberies to stop?” At his sides, the other men shuffled nervously, knives gripped firmly as they awaited their next command.

Matt stalked forward into the warehouse, his body stiff as it held his rage back, visible tension like that of water building against a dam. Fists clenched, he prowled an arc around your three kidnappers. “Step the fuck away from her.” His deep timbre was pitched exceedingly low with pure fury and it sent ripples of goosebumps across your bare skin.

Drawing the handgun from the back pocket of his slacks, Lannister stepped towards you once more. “Do your worst, Devil. She’s not leaving here alive.” The world slowed, as if the air around you was suddenly thick as molasses. Your eyes were processing as much as they could as dread settled in your stomach. The barrel of the gun moved across Lannister’s body and pointed at you as his meaty thumb cocked the weapon.

Simultaneously, Matt’s athletic form rocketed forward, skillfully dodging the swings from both of your unnamed assailants and leaping at Lannister. A gunshot rang and you traced the bullet as it soared towards you. Suddenly, your vision went white as pain seared through your body following the pointed metal cylinder as it tore through your abdomen. Screaming in anguish, your ears rang with a high pitched tone, the flash of white across your sight fading to black. The only thing you could focus on was the burning agony as the puddle of your blood seeped into your torn clothes. Forcefully shutting your eyes, your inhales turned shallow, and you prayed to your beloved Matthew that he would get you out of here before you took your last breath.

Matt’s skin was alight with rage as he maniacally tore through the three brutes to reach your collapsed form. The head captor’s words barely registered in his ears over the deafening sound of a gun being pulled. No. Do not let it be her, take me. The safety was undone as Matt ripped one man’s shoulder from its socket, using the falter in his steps to knock him unconscious. He needed to be faster. He had to reach you. Planting a hefty kick into the next guy’s stomach, he brought his billy club up to meet the force of the man’s own body weight bringing him down. A hollow thud of a body on cement meant there was one attacker left. And then came the gunshot.

As the bullet escaped the barrel it was encased in, Matt roared, the devil inside him fully consuming his consciousness as tackled the shooter. Knuckles connected with a jawbone, then the softer cartilage of a nose, then the lumpy space of a rib cage. Matt poured every emotion he had into this criminal, each punch holding seeds of guilt and regret and desperation.

The smell of your blood cascading over the dirty floor broke him from his trance. Dropping the battered body of your captor to the floor, he dove beside you, hands hovering over your body as he assessed the damage.

Sobbing in relief, he cupped your face as gently as he could. “It’s ok, angel. You’re gonna be ok. They’re not gonna hurt you anymore. Just breathe with me, please sweetness, breathe.”

Your shallow pants stuttered as your hand weakly grasped his shirt. “Ma-Matty?”

“Yah sweetness, it’s me. I’m right here. Gonna get you out of here, ok? Just hold on.” Ripped a strip of fabric from his shirt, he pressed it over your largest wound, biting back a pained sound of his own when you hissed. “I know, I know, angel. I have to stop the bleeding.”

The soft smell of salt melded with the metallic odor of your blood. You were crying, holding on to the fistful of his shirt like it was a lifeline. “Y-you came for me? I’m—I’m so-sorry”

Stroking your face lightly before he dialed 911, he cooed. “Of course I came, lovely. I’ll always come for you. Always. Now you just focus on breathing. In and out, sweetness. Good girl, just like that.”

At the operator’s greeting, he spit out a rough command for police and an ambulance, giving a brief description of the events that had happened. Next, he pleaded for their help. There was no way he alone could get you to a hospital in time.

“They were holding her hostage. She’s been shot, stabbed too. Lost a lot of blood. She’s still alive but she needs medical attention, please hurry.” He spit out the approximate location, scrubbing tears from his face as he pocketed his phone.

Pressing his forehead to yours delicately, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my sweet girl. It’s going to be ok. I’m so sorry.” Your hand raised shakily to cradle his nape.

“Matty,” Your voice was weak, but determined. “I—I need you to know—“

“Hey, this isn’t one of those moments, sweet girl. You can tell me later, when you’re healing. You focus on—“

“No, please.” You begged, he fought back a choked cry so that you could say your piece.

“I love you. S-so much.” You heaved a breath. “I’m sorry that I ruined—“

“Shh, you didn’t ruin anything.” Matt chided gently, tears slipping faster after you'd confirmed his previous mistake. “I love you too, my wonderful, sweet girl. I won’t let them take you from me. I won’t.”

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, and then you fell out of consciousness.

Matt collapsed against your chest, clinging to the sound of your weak pulse as his body trembled with sobs. He planted soft kisses to your hair and cheeks, stroking lightly over your skin as he willed God to save you.

The distant sound of sirens forced Matt to pry his face from your pummeled body. As the sound of vehicles approached, he made sure to alert the paramedics to your presence before taking back to the shadows. Hearing the clamor of attendants around you, he made a promise. “I’ll be there when you wake, angel. I’m sorry.”

Taglist: @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @scoliobean @harperdoodle @mattkinsella @leikelle @sweetbee0108 @dark-night-sky-99 @fallen-angels2213 @will-delete-this-later-probably @cheshirecat484 @thornbushrose @vernon-dursley

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writingforevren · 2 years

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Hi there, I'm Evren or Ren or Ev- or whatever you wanna call me, honestly totally down for funky nicknames haha. This is my writeblr intro and here's some random stuff about me and the things that I do so you can decide whether you hate me or like me. I’ve been on writeblr since 2020 but just moved across the country this year for the first time so I was inactive for awhile. This is the blog for you if you’re LGBT+, A Writer, or Neurodivergent (or maybe all of the above)

About Me:

I’m chaotic af so please don’t expect regular posts my mental health is unpredictable

I’m 17 at the time of writing this.

I'm here, and I'm Queer, Asexual, Gay, Gender-flux, Transmasc, Grey-romantic, probably among others, I'm trying to collect all of the letters and colors of the rainbow if you couldn't tell.

I'm on the autism spectrum, also ADHD so yeah my brain is a bit of a cluttered but organized mess, this is also why I may disappear from the internet for months at a time and why this is the only social media I can somewhat keep up with.

I play & DM dnd games, I mostly dm comedy/horror stories that I’ve written- haven’t played for a bit though because creating a consistent group is nearly impossible.

Also very much into witchy shit, a tarot card a day keeps the depression away and crystals keep me sane.

I'm totally down for tag games

I enjoy writing fiction although I tend to get burned out easily after writing long projects, you'll see some of my writing posted on here, no clue how often. I also occasionally write fanfiction and poetry though not much.

The genres I generally tend to write have themes of LGBTQ+, mental health, romance, urban fantasy, dark imagery, comedy, horror, coming of age, mind-bending, dreamy, etc.

I also hate plot twists- PLOT TWIST I love them and you will see plenty of them in any and all of my writing.

I love reading others works and if you do too I have a seperate blog dedicated to reblogging other works of fiction @original-writing

My ask box is always open to anyone if you have a question or just wanna chat.

My Writing:

I had more WIPS but have broken this down to the ones that are active. I try to keep the descriptions vague because I don't want to give much away, it's more of a vibe if you will. I am going to be redoing all of the WIP intros so that’s why there aren’t any links currently. Also the writing posted in the tags is a bit outdated since I’ve updated a lot of the stories but I didn’t want delete old posts. I’ll hopefully try to drown it out with new writing. For now here’s a new tag for writing I’ll do from now on If you’d like to be added to the taglist for any of these projects let me know.

Rainclouds

Rain clouds, y'know those little thoughts that seem to pester you mind when you try to convince yourself that everything is fine? yeah that's what this story is about. LGBT+ students in a small town of britain dealing with that voice coming to life as a shadow in their minds. Bittersweet and full of twists and turns. Dark imagery meets slow-burn romance that's seemingly destined for failure. Shattered glass, shattered thoughts, but maybe there is a way to clear the rain, to let someone in. But what if letting them in is what leads to the bridge collapse?

Intro | Playlist | Writing Tag

Stormclouds

Another side of the rainclouds story. A darker side of the story. A friendship lost throughout time but one side still painfully obsessed with the idea of that coming back. Putting on a fake smile to fend off the storm that has already overtaken them, the world that has already decided it doesn't want them there. Full of wonderful fantasies and ideas but those fantasies turning into nightmares as everything seems to go wrong in every way. The mirror never matched, the stories never finished, and worst of all the lights were starting to flicker.

Intro | Writing Tag

Rainy Grove

A forest full of secrets, a place where the sun never seems to come out even in the dead of summer. Haunted perhaps? Who's to know what resides deep in those woods that everyone is warned not to wander into. Once you go in you never come out. But when one bored girl decides it would be fun to take her friend on a hike into the woods to see what really lays beneath. They come to realize that it's not ghosts at all rather seemingly friendly people with very sharp teeth. Full of twists and turns, dark imagery, and characters that turn out not to be black and white as originally believed.

Intro | Writing Tag

Dissociated

It was normal to experience voices in your head, giving you advice, telling you what's right and what's wrong right? At least that's what he'd believed most of his life, even as a child the one thing he remembered was a friend, a friend who didn't actually exist but rather hugged him from the inside and gave him words of hope. But now he was in University where the things that used to only happen sometimes had gotten much worse. The memory blanks, the coming to in places he didn't even remember going, friends talking about conversations they'd had when he hadn't seen them for weeks. It was all getting out of hand, racing through the endless maze in his own head had gotten so much worse. He needed to find a way out, Just a door, something, something that could tell him what was wrong with him.

Intro | Writing Tag

Eldenstow Creek

A drive through the empty roads of the countryside, along the edge of the woods and away from everything they'd once known. Sounds nice right? well not when you're running from something, something far more sinister than what they were about to encounter. The world was not as it seemed, there was another side, a side where strangeness & evil resided. Circuses popping out of seemingly nowhere, pools of mystical water trying to pull them in, unintended consequences after trying to fight this higher power. Everything had seemed normal but then they’d made one mistake, messed with the wrong person, spilled the blood of something they never should've. So yeah. They were in the same car and driving along the edge of the woods. Nothing to it.

Intro | Playlist | Writing Tag

Fanfiction | My Ao3

Skull Rock (Stranger Things Steddie Fanfic) | Read Full On Ao3

Even after everything Steve Harrington was still obsessing over the idea of Nancy Wheeler. Robin kept trying to match him with other girls but it was never right, no matter who he went out with it didn’t work. It didn’t click. But then the dead man walking, Eddie Munson stepped into his life again. Someone he could just talk to, someone who shared the same experiences, Someone who felt just as alone as he did- Well maybe more considering Eddie wasn’t really able to go outside since he was still a ‘serial killer’

In Conclusion

If you made it this far I’m impressed, If you wanna see more from me feel free to give me a follow, if you’re a writer I’d love to be mutuals and I’ll see you sometime soon. This post will continue to be edited and updated as I work on updating my blog. I probably won’t post too much but we’ll see.

#writeblr #writeblr intro #writing #lgbt #neurodivergent #ace #original writing #fiction #fanfic #asexual #lgbtq+#adhd #autism

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callsign-joyride · 2 years

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Mad World Chapter 1 | Rhett Abbott

Despite the mood board suggesting otherwise, my fics are POC and size inclusive.

Summary: "Apocalypse" wasn't on anyone's yearly bingo card. Nationwide evacuations of major cities forced you and your best friend out of central Indiana, and you were told to get to Wabang. You made it, but not without having to overcome obstacles. Staying with the Abbotts proved to be the only option, but Rhett Abbott and all of his problems were the last things you expected to run into, much less spend time with.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x fem!reader

Content warnings: Angst, two people die, gun violence, stabbing, blood loss, murder. I don't think any biters are killed in this chapter but let me know if I missed anything. For the fic - this is a zombie apocalypse AU. There will be dark themes and descriptions. Gore, violence, death, angst, enemies-to-lovers, eventual smut.

Word count: 2.5k

Taglist | Playlist | Series Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter

“Survival is the ability to swim in strange water.” - Dune, Frank Herbert

You made it pretty far in the Jeep. Off-roading had been the scariest part because there was almost no way for either of you to know which way you were going. And it wasn’t like you really wanted to stop for any reason, either. The risks far outweighed the benefits. You were lucky that you made it as far as you did without needing to stop for any reason. At least you were in the state of Wyoming before you had to ditch the Jeep altogether. It was kind of an old model, anyways, but the engine was overheating and it probably wasn’t meant to go off of the road for extended amounts of time, anyways.

“All right, the biters shouldn’t get this far out. We’ll sleep in two-hour shifts and start hiking when the sun rises. We’re only stopping to eat and piss,” you said as you and Noah finished setting up the tent.

“That sounds good. Do you want to sleep first?”

“Yep. Uh, shake the tent and yell if something happens. I’m gonna have my bow right next to me.”

You grabbed the Walkman and one of the books on tape before getting in the tent and using a folded-up sweatshirt as a pillow. You needed a book that was the complete opposite of what the world was going through, so you picked The Great Gatsby. With the tape playing at a low level, you were able to get your two hours of sleep before Noah came in and woke you up. The rotating shifts took some getting used to, but it was what kept you alive.

“We’re getting close,” you said as the sun started to set.

“Yeah? How do you know?” Noah asked.

“Because we’re in Crowheart and the map says it’s right next to Wabang. We should be there in a day or two. Rick gave me a map of the town so it shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

You didn’t need to camp that night. There were a bunch of closed-down businesses and you settled on a boutique. You changed into semi-clean clothes and went up the stairs roped off with a sign that said, “Employees only,” in large black font. Even though you knew the place was empty, you still had to make sure that there wasn’t anyone (or anything) hiding somewhere. After closing the door to the upstairs rooms, you and Noah pushed a few pieces of furniture in front of it to barricade yourselves in.

“I don’t think anyone knows we’re here. I’m not taking any chances, though. Don’t turn your flashlight on or anything stupid like that.”

Being able to be inside for an extended amount of time was a luxury. You and Noah told each other stories over cold cans of SpaghettiOs and stale potato chips. If someone had told you a month ago that this was going to be your life, you wouldn’t have believed them. Not even for a second. And it was crazy because this was the first time since everything really kicked off that you were able to breathe and laugh.

Both of you were up before the sun. It didn’t take long for you to pack everything up and get ready to leave. You had a bad feeling about something, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You grabbed a few things from a small convenience store that had been heavily picked over and started to leave the town.

“What do you think Meryl Streep is doing right now?” Noah asked as you walked through the woods. It was a game that you liked to play with each other.

“Well, maybe there’s a timeline where this isn’t happening, so I feel like she’d be living it up in her multi-million dollar mansion hopefully talking with her publicist about the possibility of a third Mamma Mia movie.”

“That’s great.”

The trek through the woods was long and eerily quiet, but you couldn’t really talk to each other because you had to have your weapons at the ready in case a biter or a person came along and tried to attack you. Noah was walking a few paces behind you.

“Hey, you ever just-,” Noah started to say. There was a distant bang in the distance and he stopped speaking.

“Well, I don’t know what you’re trying to say so I don’t think so,” you said. Normally, Noah would’ve chuckled and continued from where he left off. Things were different this time. You couldn’t hear his reaction. In any other situation, you would’ve kept on doing what you were doing. At first, you thought that a biter had somehow found you and that Noah was too scared to say anything. And then you turned around. Noah was on the ground with blood coming out of his abdomen.

“It hit my back first. You’re pretty close, okay? You’ll make it.”

“But I can’t just-,”

“Leave me here? Yes, you can. There’s no point in trying to get me there. I probably couldn’t even make it ten feet without bleeding out.”

“No, I need to at least stay until… You need a nice burial,” you were on the brink of sobbing at that point.

“It’s not worth it. You have to go.”

You nodded your head and took all of his weapons off of him. If anyone was going to come by and take things from his body, the weapons were going to be the first to go. You took the tent that Noah carried on his back and slung it over your shoulder before starting to walk away for good. It was something that you tried not to talk about as you walked through the woods alone. Stopping for food wasn’t something that you wanted to do. Not anymore, at least. But you knew you had to because there was no telling how long the rest of the walk would be. With your bow in your lap, you sat on a tree stump and ate a can of Chef Boyardee. You were almost at the bottom of the can when the sound of rapid footsteps got your attention. You stood up with your bow ready, and the guy tried to fire his gun but the barrel must’ve been empty because it only clicked.

“Did you kill my friend a couple hundred yards back?” You asked.

“I needed supplies. Please, I’m all alone out here,” he pleaded.

“That sounds more like a you problem, bud. Stop walking.”

He didn’t stop, because of course he didn’t. There weren’t many men who were willing and able to listen anymore.

“Look, I know you’re trying to get somewhere, so just let me go with you. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Have you been following me?” You asked.

“Since you and your friend got in the woods.”

He just wouldn’t stop walking closer to you. You fired a warning shot, and the arrow grazed his shoulder. Something about him was making you feel nervous, and tensions were only getting higher. Everything came to a head when he got close enough to you to try and take your bow. You knew better than to just let him have it, so you hit him in the head with it instead. Something animalistic took over you at that moment. The bow had been knocked to the ground so you took the knife that was on your waist and you started swinging. Killing him wasn’t part of the plan, you really just wanted to get him to leave you alone long enough for you to get out of the woods. (Literally.) But it was also pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to win. He was surprised when you stabbed him in the abdomen, and you were surprised that it actually took a bit of force to take the knife out. In the back of your head, Rick was telling you that it wasn’t going to be over until you knew for sure that he was dead. There wasn’t time to think.

You took the knife and drove it right through his neck. The curdling of blood almost made you gag, but you moved on. You took the knife out and wiped it on your shirt before putting it back in the holster and picking up your bow. Slinging it over your shoulder, you looked at the dead guy once more.

“You were gonna die anyways,” you said.

You practically jumped with glee when you exited the woods and saw a sign that said “Wabang” on it. It had been deserted, but it still wasn’t time to let your guard down. The sun was starting to get low, but you figured that you had a good hour left of light by the looks of it. There were a few cars parked along the side of the road, and you were careful as you looked around and decided to get in the car. Your bags were in the backseat, but your bow and the map were in the passenger seat. It was a crappy car, but it was still able to run and you knew that it would take you to the ranch.

By the time you got there, you almost weren’t sure if it was the right place. But you ditched the car a little way down the road in case anyone had been following you. You figured that you were in the right place, but the ten-foot fence with barbed wire on the top made you nervous. You almost considered cutting through it until you got closer and could hear the faint buzzing of electricity.

“Hey! Who are you?!” An older man yelled. You told him your name and put your crossbow down at your feet as a sign of surrender.

“Are you Royal?” You asked.

“Who wants to know?”

“A friend of yours from Indiana sent me. I was supposed to bring his son but uh… The blood on my hands isn’t mine.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve got a lot of friends from Indiana so you’re gonna need to be more specific than that.”

“Fine! Rick Jones! His name is Rick Jones!”

“Have you been bitten or scratched?”

Once you told him no, you heard the gate buzz and start to open. He walked over to you and said that he was going to give you a place to stay for as long as you needed. He only asked about the blood once, and when you looked at the ground and took a deep breath, he decided that he wasn’t going to mention it again. To him, it didn’t matter whether or not the blood was human because you did what needed to be done in order to survive. You didn’t know what you were so nervous about. If Rick said that he was a good person to go to, he was. And you could tell that he had a family, so he definitely wouldn’t have let you in if he didn’t trust you enough to be around them.

“You can put your weapons in the barn over there if you’re comfortable. I’ve got a little girl inside and I don’t want her to hurt herself.”

“No problem,” you said. You cautiously approached the barn and slowly opened it. The dusk light was just enough for you to not need to turn on a light switch or anything. One of the walls was lined with hunting equipment while the other was lined with toolboxes.

“We keep all of our ammo inside if that’s what you were wondering,” a male said. You just about jumped out of your skin when you heard his voice. It was surprising that you didn’t hear any footsteps because you were always listening for them.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me!” You exclaimed.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I’m Perry, one of Royal’s kids. Where are you from?”

“Uh, central Indiana. My friend and I were forced to leave the city and we haven’t been able to look back. His dad sent us here but uh, he didn’t make it. Neither of them did.”

You turned your back so that you weren’t looking at Perry, but he could see the way your shoulders trembled as you started to cry. You sniffled and wiped your tears with the sleeves of your shirt. Perry told you that no one comes this far out, and you felt better about leaving your bow and arrows in the barn. You kept your knife on you and let Perry walk you inside the house. The whole family was in the kitchen, but there was something about the way the younger guy glared at you and nudged your shoulder as he practically stormed out of the house that pissed you off.

“That’s Rhett. Who pissed in his Cheerios?”

Royal’s wife stood up and introduced herself. You followed her upstairs as she showed you around. She handed you a clean set of clothes and told you that you could put your stuff in the room across the hall and three doors down. She showed you where the bathroom was and handed you a fresh towel as well.

“You’re welcome to use whatever you want, but if you’re gonna take a hot shower, don’t take too long. Royal’s pretty stingy about the hot water,” she whispered. You giggled and thanked her before taking the clothes with you into the bathroom. The sound of running water was loud enough to block out the arguing that was going on downstairs.

“I don’t care, dad. I’m not letting her have my room. We don’t know who she is and I don’t want her near my stuff,” Rhett said.

“Well, I don’t care that you don’t care. She’s staying in your room… Indefinitely, and you’re letting her take the bed. Indefinitely. I know it’s hard to trust people right now, but she’s friends with one of my buddies and we don’t know what all she went through to get here. I don’t want anyone asking her any questions about it, either.”

“Okay, but why can’t she be the one to sleep on the couch?”

“We raised you better than that. She’s our guest, and she’s getting a bed. Now, if you’re really that upset about it, I can make you sleep outside. In front of the fence.”

That was enough to make Rhett shut his mouth. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you got out of the shower and put your pajamas on. When you walked downstairs, Rhett still looked mad but you brushed it off. Asking him why he was mad probably wasn’t worth it, and it definitely wasn’t going to end well. You talked with Royal and Cecelia for a while. Royal poured you a drink and, as weird as it sounded, you actually missed the taste and the feeling of alcohol even though you hated it. Royal was always the last person to go to bed, at least that was what Cecelia told you. So it didn’t surprise you when you went upstairs to see Rhett putting a pillow and blanket on the carpeted floor by his bed. You put your bag against the nearest wall and climbed into the bed with your Walkman. Rhett turned off the lamp and you tried to get comfortable while picking up where you left off on your Great Gatsby tape.

“Hey, Rhett?” You asked.

“What?” He snapped.

“I just wanted to say that you have a really nice bed.”

“Whatever.”

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @rosesvioletshardy @anotherr-fine-mess @babybabygrogu @hexpectations

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott series #outer range #rhett abbott x you #outer range fanfic #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott au #outer range au

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ikoninovelist · 1 year

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Well Hello There!

(image description: A trainer card. The trainer is listed as Saga and features a shiny delphox named Hilda, a Sylveon named Sophie, a Gengar named Yubaba, an Iron Valiant named Valentine, a Shaymin named Coraline, and a Rockruff named Tippetarius. Saga is a brunette with short wavy hair, brown eyes, a bit chubby, and wearing a dark pink blouse with a light pink ribbon.)

Hey there, I'm Saga, a freelance writer and Novelist. I'm on retainer with Backpacker's monthly which gives me the opportunity to travel all over the world and see all kinds of things! I'm still happy to take commissions for PR pieces and Op-eds and the like. The Miss Christy Mysteries aren't quite enough to pay the bills after all.

Oh! Speaking of which, you can find my books here. It's a series about a P.I. and her Gardevoir who investigate strange happenings in their little town.

Anyway, that's enough about me. I'm sure you guys are much more interested in hearing about my pokemon, so here they are!

((Scroll down to Read More for OOC blog details))

Hilda - A Delphox and my actual starter from my pokemon journey days. I got lucky and won a lottery for her. No way could my parents have payed for my starter, let alone a shiny Fennekin. She's a bit of a diva sometimes, and can be very overdramatic, but she's really a sweetheart. Named her Hilda after seeing some pictures of what she'd grow into and figured it had a real witchy vibe.

Sophie - A Sylveon I caught as an Eevee. Eevee are actually surprisingly common in the Scioval region where I grew up (it's a couple regions southwest of Unova if you're curious) so I caught her pretty early on. She's very shy but also really affectionate when she gets to know someone. I named her after Sophie Hatter from Howl's Moving Castle Yubaba - Okay, you probably guessed this one. Yes, she's named after Yubaba from Spirited Away, though she's certainly a lot more like Zeniba. I caught her as a haunter while on a ghost tour in Symphonia City. Never did see a ghost that wasn't just a ghost type pokemon on that tour. At any rate, Yuba is pretty much the mom of the group; a prankster through and through as most healthy Gengar are, but heaven help anyone who messes with the rest of the team.

Coraline - Discovered with a bunch of other shaymin while I was traveling to do a piece for Backpacker's in Floaroma. I hadn't seen one before so I just assumed it was a common Sinnoh pokemon. Coraline kept following me into my AirBnB so I eventually decided to just catch her and take her home with me. It literally wasn't until I was going through customs that I found out she was a mythical and therefore kind of an endangered species. I'm honestly surprised, but grateful that, after a mountain of paperwork, I was allowed to keep her. She is my brave little Coraline who doesn't battle because she's too busy finding new ways to con me out of more snacks. Tippetarius - I usually just call him Tip. Found him as a puppy at the local shelter shortly after I moved to Ikoni. He didn't have a name yet, so I decided to name him after Ozma's alter-ego from The Marvelous Land of Oz. I do hope he doesn't turn out to be a secret fairy princess though. That would be pretty awkward for both of us. He's a little rascal and very playful. His favorite game is tug-of-war, though he's accidentally cut through his toys more than once when I take too long to file down the stones in his neck ruff. Like Coraline, I do not use him for battle. He is just a good, good, boy.

And speaking of good boys -

(image description: An ID for specialty pokemon featuring a Riolu named Shadow whose status is listed as "Service Pokemon")

Shadow is a service pokemon I received about three years ago. Lil guy helps me remember to take my meds and helps me with emotional regulation primarily. Apparently they named him shadow because he just really liked following the MAS trainers around and I wasn't about to name him something different just to fit a theme, lol. He's always very serious but like... in the way that a very serious child is serious. He's not about to turn down snacks or refuse to fetch a ball on his downtime, but he will take both activities very seriously.

Finally, as of June 29, 2024, Valentine the Iron Valiant (or, Vallade I guess?) has joined our family since stowing away in my luggage. They seem a lot calmer since turning on default settings, but they still love strawberry pokepuffs! I have a lot to learn about taking care of them.

So that's me and my little family. I look forward to interacting with you guys and maaaybe getting some commissions in... if you want. No pressure.

OOC Notes:

This is an OC Pokemon IRL Ask Blog. As such all in character posts will be tagged #pkmn irl.

This is a side blog for Ikoni Dweebs. All asks will show up as if coming from that blog but will be signed off by Saga.

As stated above, Saga is a freelance writer. I would genuinely be delighted to write pieces for others in the community as Saga if other blogs want to "commission" her (no real money exchanged, just imaginary, lol) Note however that her moral stances mean an evil team blog is going to have to be pretty sneaky and persuasive to convince her to write for them.

Saga lives in my fan-created region of Ikoni, which is a parallel of Washington State, and grew up in the Scioval region, which is a parallel for Ohio. You can find details on Ikoni on the pinned post for the Ikoni Dweebs blog. Scioval is not very fleshed out and mostly serves as closer connection between her and Unova.

This blog will use strong language at times, but is uninterested in NSFW content.

This blog only follows other IC blogs. If you follow this blog and I like your non-IC blog I might follow it from my main, non rp account.

This blog is friendly towards Sapient Pokemon accounts, eebydeebies, and hybrids

The Following ask types are on

Pelliper Mail/Malice

Musharna Mail/Malice

Rotom Leak

Data Leak

Finally, the picrew I used for Saga's appearance can be found here

#pokemon #pokemon irl #ooc #introductory post #pokemon blog #fatcharamaker

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frozenambiguity · 1 year

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fablewrote asked:

" no. it's non-negotiable. you're staying here. " diluc!!

«My, my.~ Always worried about others, even if said worry is veiled under a crotchety disposition. That's the master Diluc I know». The description fits perfectly with the side of Diluc that Kaeya is most familiar with. This persona, however, rarely greets others. For those he holds dear and that have his trust, Diluc is gentle in nature. Delicate. Always willing to lend a helping hand whenever he can. And such kindness may even be accompanied by a genuine smile of his.

Kaeya allows himself to go back in time. To visit the simpler days, when Diluc's smile alone was capable of brightening an entire room. When it was capable of providing reassurance and a sense of safety when doubts and fears came haunting the younger one's mind.

Diluc... He used to be such a cute young lad. The cards fate has dealt him are far from just. For that very reason, Kaeya doubts Diluc has many reasons to smile nowadays. He sometimes catches himself entertaining the idea that his presence alone is capable of making Diluc recall everything he wishes to forget. Kaeya does not blame him. Sometimes, he tries his best to stay away from the vigilante's life and affairs. Sometimes, he is successful. And, sometimes, he is not. Kaeya, despite being the ever-so-charismatic captain, does not come without his own set of faults. He can be greedy, and he realizes that. He can put his needs above the needs of others, and he realizes that. It is naught but a curse, for nothing pleasant has ever resulted from it.

Although being welcomed with coldness may at times demotivate Kaeya, he does not let it be known to the world. Nor does he blame Diluc for his reactions. Who would want to deal with a two-faced, treacherous impostor, anyway...? Kaeya has come to terms with it. If he must endure frigid words and glares in order to get any attention from Diluc, then... He will. Gladly. It is better than getting no reaction at all.

And Kaeya knows Diluc is genuinely concerned this time. He simply has a very... peculiar way of showing it. Which is why a smile is quick to form on the captain's features.

«Fret not. I would not want to overstay my welcome. Though...» Is it time to be honest...? «I appreciate the concern. I promise I shall visit a medic first thing in the morning. The wound is properly dressed, so I doubt it shall reopen in the meantime. And Diluc...?» A small pause. Facial features grow serious. A sign that the redhead should pay attention to what he is about to tell him.

«If you can spare me the kindness of being concerned for my well-being, then it is only fair that I require you to extend that courtesy toward yourself. Abyssal activity has been increasing in certain, specific premises, and the ley lines have been acting strange. I suspect the Abyss Order is messing with them once more... They are definitely up to something. This is not your average troupe of Abyss Mages causing the usual mayhem».

And although I trust your abilities, I do not want you to be so rash as to act impulsively without any backup. I would keep an eye out for you, if I could... If you let me. Or rather, I would let it become public knowledge. Because, to this day, I still look out for you. I would not have known that you were the Dark Night Hero before anyone else, otherwise.

«If you... grant me a few more moments of your time, I can tell you all I know about it». Just like in the old days, through the letters they exchanged.

#fablewrote #【 ic | fool you once; fool you twice. 】#{{ e h e. it's about time I started giving fable's diluc a taste of my kaeya :^] }}#{{ diluc: i want you to stay. kaeya: i want to stay too. also kaeya: “Pff I guess i'll just leave; wouldn't want to be a nuisance haha..” }#{{ BUT ALSO --- kaeya: is perhaps reconsidering accepting diluc's request and staying. but only if diluc stays with him too. }}#{{ don't you go off fighting the world all by yourself; mr. hero. let kaeya recuperate and then we will see ---- }}#{{ name a better duo than kaeya and diluc. I'LL WAIT. }}#{{ ... }}#{{ that's right! You cannot!!! }}

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plethora-of-imagines · 2 years

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Safe and Sweet

AN: An anon drabble that got long enough to become its own fic! Basically unedited, cause I'm lazy.

Word Count: 1373

Warnings: hypnosis

Description: Wondering about if the Master has ever been hypnotized leads to your first attempt at hypnosis.

"Master?"

Moments of silence passed, the crisp sound of a page turning your only response. But you could be patient, he certainly heard you. It would just take him some time before he decided to answer you. Likely he would finish the page he was on first.

"Hmm, yes, pet?"

Tone distant and distracted by the book he was lazily flipping through.

You took your time answering back, nervous to ask him such a question.

"Have you ever been hypnotized?"

His eyes flitted up to look over at you, gauging how curious you really were about the topic. With an indulging smile he closed the book, placing it on the side table. Taking that as your que to move closer you stood and stretched out your body before padding over to his side. Flopping into the couch, bumping into his shoulder playfully as you collapsed onto him. Hands instantly moving to shield your head from harshly hitting the armrest on the other side.

"I've had people enter my mental space before, a select few times. Mainly as required at school. But hypnotized? No, never."

"Is that something you learned at school too? Hypnosis?"

His hand absentmindedly carded through your hair as he formed his answer.

"No, that I taught myself."

Awkwardly he titled your chin up to make your wondering eyes meet his.

"Now what exactly had brought this curious interrogation to mind?"

Refusing to let go of your chin as you squirmed. Giving up on trying to shift into a comfortable position while he kept hold of your chin, knowing that he would only release you once he got his answer.

"Well, we've been exploring what it's like for me to be under your hypnosis and it's so comfortable... I just wondered if anyone had made you feel that way before."

Finally free to move again, you curled up on the end of the couch. Shielding yourself from the blatant dismissal sure to follow.

"Would you like to try?" He asked without judgment.

Sitting up straight you looked for any signs that he was teasing you. He wasn't. He really seemed open to you getting to try.

"Yes, please," you almost begged. Cringing at how needy it had sounded.

Unlatching the pocket watch from his vest he handed it over into your bewildered hands. He straightened out his ensemble again, turning to fully face you. Sitting with his legs criss crossed. A knee hanging over the edge of the couch- well with how small it was you supposed it was actually a loveseat.

"It's easiest at first to start by using an object to help focus the other person's mind. Hence, the cliche of the pocket watch," he gave a gesture to your hands as he spoke.

Letting it hang down from your hand you glanced over it. Admiring the details. Swirls of circular Galifryan that you were unable to translate covering the surface with dozens of flourishes that would make it almost unintelligible to even the most advanced of readers.

Tearing your eyes away from the precious antique that was one of the few pieces of his Time Lord past that he kept outside of the locked room he never wanted to talk about, to look at his open, pretty brown eyes.

Warmth enveloped your hands as he covered them with his own. Speaking in a soft, intimate tone as he began to explain what to do.

“You want to look deep into your subject’s eyes, bringing the watch into their line of sight. Forcing them to watch as it swings.”

Moving your hands so that you were letting the watch flicker past both of your eyes. Maintaining eye contact with you while he slowly let go of your hand. Keeping up with the motion was easy once you found the rhythm.

“Next you want to reassure them that everything is okay, that they are safe. They belong to you, you will guide and protect them.”

Stumbling over your words at first you tried to find what to say. It felt so strange to be saying things like this.

“You’re safe Master, you can let go and let me take care of everything,” you felt like a child trying to reassure a parent. Clumsy but your heart in the right place.

“No thoughts needed, you’re safe. Nothing can harm you,” the Master replied.

You repeated his words back to him. Honed in on his eyes as they followed the watch with rapt attention. It was difficult to keep your attention on him and not the swinging watch. Every so often you found your words halted as your mind got too caught up in the movements of the watch.

The slow creep of our minds into one another’s made your skin tingle, you could see goosebumps on the Master’s skin too. Slowly all thoughts left your mind but him. Just him and how warm his mind felt. Cocooned in blankets near a fire, skin touching as you clung to each other. Never parting.

“You’re safe, no need for any thoughts. Just drifting in bliss,” voice trailing off.

Slow and sensual. Arms feeling heavy as the watch was taken from you. Body loose as he shifted you to lay your head in his lap. Fingers in the hand not busy keeping the watch swinging above your head, twirling and entangling in your hair.

“So precious,” he murmured. “You did such a good job trying to hypnotize me for your first try. Of course one of the most important lessons about doing such a thing is that by trying to enter someone else’s mind you leave your own open to invasion as well. A double edged sword.”

Humming as he continued to cause pleasant shivers to run down your spine. Any attempts to move his hand further away had you chasing his touch down. He gave into your wordless, thoughtless desires. Tucking the watch away and bringing his other hand against your skin to trace circles within circles upon your skin. Writing his affection into your very being.

“So sweet to me, my human. I’ll protect you from all harm.”

Silence filled the room along with your mind. Feelings of safety and love flooding your head from the Master’s mind. Seeping unintended into your head, but you didn’t mind at all.

It was hard to focus on his words, so blissfully enraptured in mindless sensation as you were. But you could feel that the admission he was preparing to make would be important. Something that he would only feel confident to admit while you were so out of it that you wouldn’t be able to comment on it. To bring attention to his vulnerability. Whispered words that were almost not formed. Dragging your mind into as much alertness as you could manage.

“I’m proud of you for trying so hard to make me feel as content as you do. You have no idea how much it means to me that you have such sweet, pure intentions towards me.”

Slipping back into sweet nothingness after his admission you continued to let him play with your hair. Fingers brushed it away from your forehead, pressing lightly against your temples in reverence at how you never fought him. Accepting his mind as it entangled with yours. Reaching back to share your peaceful existence and adoration for him, with him.

As his mind retreated enough to allow you control over your body once more, you shifted with him as he laid back. Arms clinging around his stomach as your head rested against his chest. Letting his legs intertwine with yours. Slowly he moved to pick back up his book. His arms resting against your back as he propped his book up, it pressed into you. Noticing that it was going to dig into your skin the Master attempted to sit up while you stayed attached to him like a koala. Reaching past you for a pillow to soften the impact of the book resting against your skin.

Finally settled back down, you burrowed back into his chest. Drifting off into a hypnotic nap, cradled by the Master’s mind as he continued to read. The echo of each word caressing your mind as you let them flow over you.

#dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master

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peterparkersnose · 3 years

Text

the witch and the spider chapter 8- “Please move in with me”

tasm!peter x reader

tasm/nwh!peter x reader

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

After you and your Uncle, Doctor Strange, closed the portal on the statue of liberty life went back to almost normal. Besides the fact that the two other worldly Peter's were trapped in your universe.

*this is probably the farthest thing from anything canon

*Tony Stark, Black Widow, young Steve Rogers, Vision, Loki are all alive

*Timeline is completely off for some facts

word count: 2.1k

warnings: implications of sex, descriptions of sex, awkwardness involving sexual themes

a/n hi this chapter isnt my favorite, but it gives a good description of how Y/N and Peter’s relationship is moving. hope you are having a lovely day/evening

masterlist

read time: 7 mins 44 seconds

Waking up with Peter had to be one of the best thing's you had ever encountered. His usually neat hair was all fluffy and disorganized. He also had the need to use the restroom first thing when he woke up. You were woken up early by Peter catapulting himself over you to run to your bathroom. You tried to ignore the strangely loud stream of pee, praying he put down the seat.

You turned over in bed once you heard the sink turn off, clutching your bedsheets tight to your chest. Peter walked out in just his tee shirt and his boxers. "Someone had to pee," you laughed. Peter sprung over you again, pulling you in his arms. You gave a tiny yelp, surprised by his actions.

"Your even more beautiful in the mornings," Peter yawned, brushing a piece of messy hair out of your face. You brought yourself closer to him, putting your head on his chest. You could hear his heart beating. "I wish I could stay like this forever," you sighed. Peter held you tighter. "Hey, doesn't your job start again tomorrow?" he asked. You sighed. "Yep. Can't wait for those early morning training sessions again." you said sarcastically. "I just wish I could do this every morning."

Peter moved his head back and looked at you. "What if you could?" he asked. You cocked your head. "What are you suggesting, Parker?" you smirked. "I dunno, I think you know what I'm suggesting. Strange."

You got up closer to Peter's ear and whispered "Please move in with me,"

You kissed his cheek and moved back to your place against his chest. "Deal."

When Peter 3 came to this universe, the only thing he had on him was his phone and his suit. He was given clothes and emergency ID's from Tony, but he had almost no belongings.

"What would you like to do today?" he asked, pacing around your apartment. The aroma of pancakes filled the kitchen. "Do you have any actual- things?" you asked him. "Only what I came with. And what Stark gave me," he said, pulling a wallet out of his coat hanging on a hook. The wallet consisted of a Stark issued credit card, an ID, an insurance card, and a card to enter his apartment.

"If anyone pulls me over, I am Adam Webb, native of Connecticut." he laughs, showing you his forged ID. "Stark thinks he's funny. Webb?" "Oh," Peter chuckled. "I didn't even realize that."

"Seriously though, let's get you a few things today. Make you feel more at home."

"This is so sweet," Peter says, exiting the chauffer's car. "You'll never miss the subway. Trust me," you chuckled.

"See you in 3 hours, miss." the driver said as you tipped him.

You and Peter walked into a clothing store, more on the high end. "Anything you want," you told him. He walked around in awe, looking at all the designs they had there. "I mean, don't get me wrong Y/N these clothes are cool. But honestly, I'm okay with the whole t-shirt jeans vibe I have going here,"

"Alright then, to the next store."

You and Peter entered a Target. "This-" he said, pointing to a shirt with a science pun on it, "is what I'm looking for."

You watched him pick up graphic tee after graphic tee, throwing them all in the cart. "This is great, really. I miss having actual clothes." he said. "We need some jeans," you reminded him. "Or anything else? Would you like some shorts?" you asked him. Peter was walking with the cart, his chest resting on the handlebar, sulking around. "You can pick them out. I trust your judgement," he said, wandering off to the electronics section. You scoffed, letting your boyfriend go explore.

You came back with a handful of jeans, and found Peter holding a plethora of things. Phone cases, a new computer, headphones, a new keyboard, a watch. He gave you his quirky smile. "Stark won't mind, right?"

You two found the snack isle. "Peter, Tony can just order all of this. It's much easier. The housekeepers put it away for you." "But Y/N! They have gummy worms!" he said excitedly. You rolled your eyes and smiled as Peter threw bags of his favorite foods in the cart.

"Alright and your total comes out to 1,427 dollars and 34 cents." the cashier said, astonished at the price. You and Peter grabbed all the bags and was met by the chauffer outside.

"Maybe we spent too much," Peter said, feeling guilty on his splurge. "Too much? Peter this is like a cent to Tony. He won't care." you laughed, grabbing his hand.

On the way home, it started to rain. It was only a slight sprinkle when you two left Target, but now it was a full on downpour.

"Shit!" you yelled, trying to grab the bags out of the trunk as fast as you could and running inside without getting wet. Peter soon followed you inside, but the both of you were drenched. Peter was running to put the bags down on the common room table, but he slipped and fell right on his ass.

"Shut up," he blushed as you laughed at him. "It's not funny." he whined, rubbing his behind where he fell. "Let's get cleaned up, let the bags dry." you said as Peter pulled out his new electronics.

Back in your apartment, Peter and you were a soaking wet mess. You went into your bedroom, throwing your coat on the ground. "I want a shower," you said, taking off your shoes and your drenched socks. "A shower sounds great," Peter sighed, taking a towel and drying off his dripping hair. "You can go first, I don't mind." you said, taking off your leggings not even thinking about Peter being in the room. You balled them up and threw them in your hamper, noticing Peter was oddly quiet. You then realized you were wearing no pants. "Oh shit that's my bad," you said, grabbing a blanket from your bed.

"No, no. It's fine just-" Peter stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the ceiling trying not to notice your lace pink thong. "Peter I'm sorry I should have asked, I didn't even realize." "I mean, we live together. We're dating. We're bound to see each other naked at some point." he said awkwardly.

"Should we just do it?" you asked, immediately regretting it. "It? As in..." Peter asked. "Just, you know. See each other. Naked. Get it over with."

Literally shut up, your scaring him. Stop running your mouth.

"Yeah, yeah that sounds like a great idea." Peter said.

"Should we..."

"Uh, how about we just get naked. Now. Like," Peter said, taking off his shirt.

The awkwardness was radiating off of you, giving yourself second hand embarrassment.

He didn't have abs, but he was perfectly fit. His arm muscles were perfectly sculpted, reminding you of the Greek statues you've seen in museums.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer." Peter chuckled. You realized you have been spacing again. "Oh, shit, uhm." you struggled to say, but just took your shirt off. You let the blanket drop, you were left standing in your thong and your bra.

Peter gulped.

Holy fuck did he just gulp?

"I am the luckiest man alive." he said, sliding his jeans off his slender figure.

You two standing there sopping wet (from the rain, you perverts) and staring at each other in your underwear. You both were so exposed, so vulnerable.

"I think I should shower," you said, ending the awkward silence between you two just staring at each other's bodies.

He probably thinks I'm fat. He's stuck with such a fat fucking pig. God, I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to go home now.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry I didn't want to freak you out just- I am just obsessed with you right now." he smiled, stepping closer to you. It was like he read your mind, feeling your insecurities and trying to change them. He grabbed the side of your arm, pulling you into his embrace. Your faces got closer and closer, begging for someone to make the first move and fill in the gap. You and Peter both at the same time, moved in and created a passionate, forceful kiss. Not meaning it to be that strong, you both pulled back a bit.

"Let me just..." you say, walking into the bathroom and turning on the shower. You could feel Peter's eyes burning into your ass. You turned around, and un clipped your bra. The poor boy almost ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He picked your body up effortlessly, and gently placed you against the glass shower door.

If you ever had a bucket list, and if you ever had shower sex on it, you would have been able to check it off now.

You and Peter walked into the common room and was met with Peter 1, Peter 2, and MJ.

They noticed that you two were freshly showered and that you were walking with a somewhat limp.

"Hey guys," you said, trying to act non cholent. You were not expecting to find them out here, you were just going to get one of the book's Peter was trying to find in Tony's library.

Yes, the first thing he asked you after sex is where he could find a book.

"Hey Y/N," MJ said matching your tone. "What's up?" she asked. Peter 2 looked at you two and snickered. "Shut it," you gritted through your teeth, nudging Peter 2 in the arm. "She got it good," he laughed, sitting up from the couch and leaving the room. You were now petrified, eyes widened.

Seeing everyone in the common room together made you realize something. You really haven't talked to any of your friends. Your past week has just been filled with Peter. Sure, MJ and you texted but it wasn't anything like it was before.

"Hey Peter," you said, sitting down on the couch next to MJ. You groaned a little, realizing you shouldn't have sat down -that- hard. "Yes?" they both responded. "Uh, Peter 1, can you help Peter 3 find his book he's looking for? I really have no clue, maybe you would know better." "Y-yeah, sure." Peter 1 said awkwardly. They exited the room, leaving you and MJ.

"Dude, what happened to you two?" Peter 1 asked Peter 3 as they walked down the hallway. "Did you..." "Dude," "What?"

Back with you and MJ...

"You realize you are the worst actor in the world. It is so obvious that you got majorly fucked before you walked in here."

"MJ!" you said, slapping her on the arm. "Seriously though Y/N, how was it? I want all the details." she said. "What details? You said you could tell," you sighed. "Was it..." MJ said, scaling her hands between small and large. "MJ!" you scolded her, but stopping her at the most realistic length. "Holy shit no wonder your walking like that." she said, only half believing you. "How did it happen?" "In the shower," "SHOWER SEX?" she said, loudly. You shushed her. "Be quiet, team's working here today." you scolded her. "Okay, okay. Did you at least finish?" "Yes MJ, I did." "Did he?" "Oh my god your such a pervert!" "Did he?" MJ asked, brow cocked. "Yes," you sighed. "Inside? Or out?" "MJ!" "I need details! My best friend got fucked by the man of her dreams." "Your fucking disgusting." you laughed. "But yes, inside." you whispered.

"Wait- inside?" she asked. "Please tell me you had a condom," "I mean, it was spur of the moment sex." you said, ashamed. "Y/N! You are such an idiot," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "No MJ, I have a fucking IUD. I'm not an idiot." "Oh thank god, I am NOT ready to be an Aunt,"

"Aunt?" Peter 3 asked, coming back with Peter 1 and holding his book. "Uh, like the animal! W-we were just talking about, uh" "Ant Man!" you interrupted MJ. "Yep, yep. Ant Man." you both said, shaking your heads yes.

"Okayy," Peter 3 dragged on. "I'm gonna go read," he said, holding the book in his hand. "Have fun," you say, as he bent down to kiss your forehead before he left.

You eventually retired back to your apartment after a long needed catching up with MJ and Peter.

"Did she tell you anything?" Peter eagerly asked MJ. "Why?" she asked suspiciously. "He wouldn't tell me anything!" "Peter, I love you, but sometimes you need to mind your own business," MJ sighed, snuggling up closer to him on the couch.

tag list:

#peter parker #spiderman #andrew garfield #tom holland #tobey maguire #andrew!peter x reader #no way home #peter parker imagine #tasm #marvel #andrew garfield spiderman #peter parker andrew garfield no way home #peter parker headcanon #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x avenger!reader #tasm!peter parker x avenger!reader #tasm!peter x avenger!reader #peter parker avenger #peter parker avenger reader

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Text

I'M BACK!!! 🥰😍❤ Did you all miss me? I'm happy to say that I've finally gotten some WiFi where I'm currently living and updates are gonna try to be more steady here in the future but I can't make any promises because I get very busy with my work 😅😇 Please continue to bear with me!

In other words, a while back I wrote the OG version of this little short fic on A03 but I realized that I had never posted it here! 😱 Nevertheless, I decided to write the Part 2 to this and then decided to remaster that first part before posting it here! 🙂🙂🙂 I'm thinking about turning this into a little mini series 🤔🥰

Anyways, I'll stop rambling! Please enjoy! 😚

Pillarroomates (Chapter 1: Roommate wanted)

(This is dedicated to Dagdoth and Sureynot; 2 of the best bad influences I could ever ask for 🥰😍❤)

The steady click-clacking of keys filled the pleasant silence of the little kitchen, Kars typing away on the laptop before him at the table.

It was just a little after noon, a time where he usually put down his work for a brief session to sit back in silence and enjoy a cup of coffee, or maybe a mug of tea depending on his mood, with whatever baked-good had been whipped up recently. Today however, he chose to cut his little break out of schedule completely to get a jump on the deadline of the month that he was currently picking away at.

Hunched over, eyes glued to the screen, one could've swore he was a living statue perched like that so quietly if it weren't for his typing fingers.

The sweet smell hanging in the air came much closer as Wamuu strode over to the table, a soft smile was painted across the mans lips as he placed an oven fresh cookie on a plate down next to the mug of black tea his Master was letting steep at his side.

"Thank you, Wamuu." Kars said quietly, watching the blonde depart in his peripheral vision for only a beat before regaining his sharp focus on the sea of numbers staring back at him.

Kars had his own room with a desk to work in of course but he always found himself enjoying doing work down here this time of day. The heavenly smell of the kitchen when something was being baked and the pleasant background noise of the radio chiming softly, sometimes accompanied by Wamuu humming along, was something sort of relaxing to Kars.

Relaxing around here tended to be something rare too, as there never seemed to be a dull moment in the lives of the Pillarmen these days.

Not in this neighbourhood, no.

The younger man hummed in response, heading back to the stove to finish scraping fresh cookies off the pan to place on a rack to cool. He was sure Santana would make an appearance soon to try one, with the lovely smell filling the air and all.

Santana could never stay asleep (as heavy of a sleeper as he had the tendency to be) holed up in his room when there was something yummy being cooked.

The times where he appeared the quickest was when Kars flicked on the coffee machine first thing in the morning, the red-head manifesting at his side at the very first spew of hot caffeine never failed to nearly give him a heartattack; especially when it was 5 in the morning in a dark kitchen.

Kars' head lifted, cocking an eyebrow as there suddenly came a knock at the front door; three evenly spaced thumps on the wood. The thought of another complaining neighbour was the first thing to cross his mind, making him sigh as he moved to get up from his chair.

"PIZZA'S HERE!!!"

The sounds of heavy footfalls coming at a rapid speed from down the hallway accompanying the cry stopped him in his tracks.

The plum-haired man grimaced, Wamuu glancing over his shoulder with a frown, as none-other-than Esidisi sped by; the one hand clutching the towel around his waist was the only thing keeping it from blowing away completely.

Despite only catching a glimpse of his speedy companion, Kars didn't miss the fact that the other was sopping wet and trailing water.

Esidisi had simply lept out of the shower the second he heard the knock at the door, leaving with only a towel (just barely even) and the foamy suds that were still clinging to his hair and his body.

No doubt about it, he was dripping all over the place.

And all over his clean floor too.

Kars clicked his tongue, more than tempted to sigh again.

"Really, Esidisi?" He called out to the other.

It was hard to tell whether he was more displeased with his state of soapy undress or the fact that the oldest Pillarmen had gone and ordered yet ANOTHER pizza this week with only God-knows-what on it.

Sure, he the others found themselves actually partaking in "Human food" casually these days. Wamuu even went so far as to teach himself how to cook as a hobby to fill time around the house when he wasn't going to the Gym or to work, but Esidisi had become something of a strange enthusiast on the matter.

Some people in this world got a little riled up over something as simple as Pinapple being added as a topping on a pizza but Kars had a feeling those people would have an absolute fit listening to Esidisi's phone order of a multi-fruit pizza (consisting of: oranges, apples, watermelon and strawberries) with cheese, olives and pepperoni.

He was starting to wonder if his longtime companion was simply doing it just to see how far he could push a Pizza place with his barrage of odd orders until they yelled at him or worse, barred him completely from the place.

His question was only met with laughter. "I decided to ask for Mac and Cheese and Jalapeños on it this time!" Esidisi called back, voice echoing off the walls, as he finally reached the front door.

Wamuu's nose crinkled at the very sound of that, choosing wisely to direct his attention to his cookies once more.

Kars decided to follow suit and do the same with his own work.

He supposed it wasn't really his problem, therefore; he shouldn't say anything.

☆☆☆

The advertisment had been a strange one for sure, but really, you had no choice but to at least look into it. It never hurt to try and you were already desperate enough as it was.

Apartments and open housing in the area was becoming a rarity at best these days, this busy time of year didn't help things either, and you had been scouring the internet for every opportunity or opening there was to move in with someone in this portion of the city.

Sadly, you had turned up empty handed quite a few times.

The last one you had looked into had been great; a nice building, nice seeming people, decent budget; but alas, the people who put out the advert took it down just a day later.

They had decided to give the opening to a close friend of theirs who wanted to come across the country and live with them instead.

You had been starting to consider checking the complete other side of the city and trying to squeeze yourself in somewhere there or maybe even just going with the option of moving cities completely! The hassle of finding a place was just becoming too much until... this one happened to pop up.

☆ Roomate requSWIGGITY SWOOMATE, WE NEED A ROOMATE!!11!!!1!

We are Four Men seeking out a Human roomate to live with us in our rented house.

4 bedroom, 1 bath, 1 kitchen; upstairs, downstairs and basement.

Location: Western side of the city, 929 Bizzare av.

Rent and chores are divided equally among us.

Requirements as followed:

• Must be a CLEAN Human.

• Human must not bear the surname of "Joestar" under ANY means necessary.

•Must be actively working and have claims to have the ability to hold their job.

• Must be willing to contribute to the household via chores and yard work when necessary.

• must be CUTE!!!

• Mus

•

• Must like llf6io78fjjl0

•

• Jo9sjw6jnsjej27ebeolu

• Jsjsij wkk d18kkjs lkdjsjsns52jsjjsnend2njsmdv 6272jsndbdhs2672 jd Djjsija bsij eeskdnne9s782728 jd bjejrn rnusjjsj

• the human must not be loud

• It would be most appreciated if the Human was a mannered person, who holds appreciation for similar hobbies we do. -W

•

Ask within to apply! ☆

You couldn't help but wonder if whoever had written this advert had been drunk at the time by looking at the grabbed mess that took up half the page.

Better yet, you could only hope this was a real advertisement and not some sort of stupid prank.

Either way, you were determined to find out today and claim this oppertunity before anyone else got the chance.

Glancing down at the print out you had made of the ad at the Library, you sighed as you kept going down the street. You had been walking all morning and were beginning to wish you had the foresight to pack a snack or a drink for your seemingly endless sojourn for this supposed place.

There was no picture put onto the advertisement, even a proper description of the place would've been nice, and finding a direct address wasn't exactly a piece of cake to you.

Nonetheless, you kept going. Stopping at every house you passed in hopes to spot a matching address; finding nothing but different numbers and barking dogs tethered in yards.

With every different number meeting your eyes, the possibility of this just being a fake ad just kept growing and growing in your mind.

You were even starting to consider just giving up entirely when, at last, there it was. "292" the numbers were bolted to the front porch, the 9 starting to tilt to one side.

It seemed nice enough. The lawn was well kept, the walkway however looked as if it needed to be redone. The building was a sunbleached blue, probably a nice clean periwinkle once upon a time, but now leaning a tad white and staring to flake. The place was definitely in need of a touch up.

This was the place, now if someone was Home to even just talk to you about this ad that would be great.

You gathered up the courage to leave the sidewalk and start up the overgrown walkway, the wood of the porch whined under your feet as you stepped onto it. A couple of chairs, a book carelessly left behind in one, a little cage sat all by its lonesome in the far corner, and a big unmissable stain (probably coffee) caught your eye on the wood.

The word "Pillarmen" was scrawled on the name card over the mail slot of the front door.

A strange surname, you had never heard of it before, but it must've been safe to assume that it belonged to someone here. Presumably one of the men who had made this advertisement in the first place.

With only a moments hesitation, clutching the print-out in hand, you reached out and rapped on the door hard with your knuckles, then stood back and waited.

Silence... You took the opportunity to fix your appearance slightly, suddenly becoming a little self-conscious, smoothing out your shirt before clasping your hands behind your back neatly and putting on your best smile.

First impressions were important, most especially a first impression made at the door after all.

There came the sounds of voices, too muffled for you to hear through the walls, followed closely by the unmistakable thundering of footsteps coming closer and closer from within.

Finally, the door flung open.

You felt your eyes go a little wide, the smile drained from your face as you craned your neck back slightly to meet the gaze of the very tall and very muscular dark-skinned man that now stood before you.

Belatedly, as your eyes followed the droplets of water that were dripping off him, trickling down every inch of his muscular body and pooling at his feet, you realized he was practically naked; clutching only a fluffy white towel around his waist.

The towel didn't look nearly as fluffy and white as his hair, however.

"Uh--" Your tongue swole in your mouth as you both found yourselves staring at one another, seemingly sharing a similar dumbfounded moment.

He blinked owlishly.

"You're not the Pizza delivery." He said matter-of-factly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you.

Your head shook violently, broke from your sudden stupor, pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper out for him to see.

"Uh-- I--... N-No! I'm not-- I'm uh.... here ab-about the-- the roomate ad...?" You sputtered, the words felt as garbled as alphabet soup falling off your tongue, you felt a nervous sweat beading on your skin under your clothes as it hit you for a second time that wasn't wearing any. "Oh! If uh-- this is a bad time I-- I can come back later!"

His face lit up suddenly, eyes shimmering like sapphires. "Oh!" He cried. "I forgot about that!"

The massive man turned, calling back over his shoulder deeper into the apartment.

"Kars! There's a Human here, they saw our advert!"

You happened to be so gobsmacked, still reeling from the slight shock of the very first of your encounter, you hadn't even noticed he distinctly used the word "Human" there.

"What?!"

You couldn't see past the mans hulking figure but you could very well hear the scraping of a chair in the distance, followed by more thundering footsteps heading towards the door.

You blinked as yet another larger-than-life sized man made his appearance, pushing past the first with a frown. The both of them looked almost comically squashed where they stood taking up the whole doorway.

This man was just as tall and as muscular as the first. His skin was like ivory, framed by dark cloth wrapped from his neck to the top of his head with only a tuft of deep purple hair dangling precariously out over his pointed nose.

More importantly, very much unlike the first, this one was fully clothed.

Clad in a dress shirt that matched his hair, slightly unbuttoned to just give you a peak of the buldging muscles he had underneath and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neatly pressed black dress pants and house shoes.

Kars blinked in surprise as he caught sight of you at last, eyes scanning over you. He honestly hadn't expected someone to come to their door about the advertisement they had put out so quickly, they had only put it out less than a day ago.

If anything, by the way it had turned out, he was surprised someone responded to it at all.

"Please, come in." Kars told you, making his best attempt to save this lousy first impression.

His surprised look was short-lived, turning sharp as he directed it onto Esidisi. The other man smiled sheepishly, turning and retreat back to the bathroom to finish his shower without the pizza he had left it for...

☆☆☆

☆Previously...☆

Kars hummed, reading over the advert for a 4th time with pursed lips.

He had listed all the necessary information about them and the living situation and even put down a few requirements to set the bar for any Human who would happen to want to apply.

However, even with the ground rules set, it still just seemed a little too bare to him.

"Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder towards the living room doorway; he swore he could hear more of the crunching of the flaming hot cheetos Esidisi was enjoying rather than the actual program he was watching. "Is there anything specific you would like to add to this before I post it?"

"Shay they mush be cute!" came the reply though a mouthful of spicy junkfood. Kars could only hope he wasn't getting crumbs all over the couch again, not to mention getting too handsy with the T.V remote eating those things...

"That isn't what qualifies as a 'requirement', Esidisi..." he sighed.

The other swallowed, now blessed with the ability to speak much clearer; the crinkling of the cheeto bag hit Kars' ears next.

"Well excuse me for having standards." He heard his oldest companion grumble, drowned out by the crunch of more food.

Wamuu's head peered out of the kitchen, the pie he was just about to place in the oven cradled in oven-mit hands. He had decided to try his hand at fudge pie this time, having mastered apple so quickly.

"It would be nice if the Human were a Warrior as well," he said, disappearing from Kars' sight again as he went back into the kitchen, carrying the pie to the awaiting oven. "Or perhaps if they were interested in going to the Gym or baking as I do..."

Kars sighed, "Wamuu, I understand you would like someone to train with but this--"

"The Human must not be loud."

The Pillarman practically jumped out of his chair, the tiniest yelp escaping his lips as he swiveled his head to find none other than Santana looming over him. The sheet lines imprinted in the others face indicated he had just arisen from a deep sleep; most likely venturing out of his cave and into the kitchen to see what Wamuu was up to.

Even after thousands of years, he still couldn't get used to the youngest Pillarman sneaking up on him.

It probably didn't even count as "sneaking" anyways as Santana was just so naturally quiet he just happened to go unnoticed until he spoke up.

Kars opened his mouth to make an attempt to speak again, only to be cut off one more time as Esidisi finally made his own appearance; leaning over the purple-haired man to see the advert in the works.

"See, this is all wrong." Esidisi told him, frowning at the screen. "This is too formal! If we're going to get someone at all, we need to grab their attention somehow. Here, I'll fix it!"

The other practically clamored over him, cheeto bag tucked under arm as he reached over to type on the computer, deleting the majority of the title Kars had written out and already replacing it with one of his own creation.

Kars belatedly realized the others' hands were still coated in hot cheeto crumbs, smudging the keys of his pristine computer with imprints of red and orange as he typed away.

"Esidisi, stop this at once!" He commanded, trying to push him at arms length, only to be met with a hand pushing back and smooshing against his face. The smell of spicy cheese flavoring hit his nostrils, only fueling his fire. "This is my work computer! I'm the one writing this advertisement!"

Santana merely stood back, watching the two elder Pillarmen fight over the computer in silence. Esidisi was pushed by Kars into the keyboard a handful of times before their focus was solely on one another and no longer the ad.

"Get your grubby hands off me!" Kars growled as the other straddled him in the chair, his face now smudged like his keyboard. They kept pushing on one another, a clumsy slap war already underway, obscenities and curses getting mangled as they argued back and forth.

"You never let me--"

"I told you that--"

"I wanna do it! Just let me--"

Santana peered down at the computer curiously, uninterested in watching the display before him any longer.

The red-head typed out his own request before picking up the device and carrying it to the kitchen for Wamuu to see and whatever he wished; Santana ignored the sound of two bodies toppeling out of the chair and hitting the floor as he left.

Kars didn't even get to see the ad (or rather; the remainder of what qualified as an advert) before it was posted online by Santana.

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #my writing #pillarroomies

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enviedear · 4 years

Text

miss moonlight, put in a word → draco malfoy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which draco sees the same annoying hufflepuff he’s enamored within his dreams every night, but can’t muster up the courage to talk to her in waking life. so instead he talks to the moon, telling the rock that’s miles away, everything he wants to tell her. little does he know, she does the same thing.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 3k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

its a little angsty im sorry. but im nervous abt this and have been sitting on posting it for almost a month now so please lmk if you like it :)

based off the songs talking to the moon by bruno mars and please mr sun by tommy edwards

she waves at him, her eyes holding a happy glimmer. he walks closer to her and wraps his long arms around her, pulling her close. he breathes in her scent and she giggles. it sounds like heaven. he holds her like that for what feels like forever before she pulls away.

he watches as she sits down in the grass, patting the place beside her.

“sit draco.” she commands. he complies.

“i love it when i’m asleep. you’re here and the world is so much more peaceful.” he smiles, a real true smile. not like the ones he usually gives now.

“but imagine if we were awake. the world might not be so wonderful, but we’d have each other. and the sun. and the wind. and the trees. and missus moon.” she grins, looking up at the bright blue sky.

he wants to agree, and tell her that’s all they’ll ever need. but he knows he can’t. because truth be told he needs more. he needs to know his family will be safe. he needs to know if he’ll make it out of his sixth year alive. he needs more than the sun and moon.

instead, he places his head in her lap, relishing in the way her fingers card through his hair. she sings a song he can’t place as he falls asleep.

“i love you y/n” he whispers, right before he dozes off.

that’s how the dreams usually end. he always slips off to sleep so peacefully in your arms. but when he wakes up, he’s still in the slytherin dorm, lonely and afraid.

yours end in the same way, and when you wake, you’re clutching your pillow as if it’s him. you don’t dare tell anyone about the dreams. your friends and family would think you mad. but it’s enough for you to be able to have them, even if you’re not sure if they’re shared or not.

you see the way he looks in the dining hall, potions, and in passing. he’s always so monotonous. so unlike the boy you’ve grown up with.

you of course have dreams, where he’s told you everything that has happened to him. he’s confessed to you that he’s working with voldemort, for his parents' sake. he even told you about dumbledore. but no matter how much you beg him to leave that life behind, he can't. besides, you’re dreaming all of this. who’s to say it’s even real.

so you stay away, yearning for bedtime. where you can talk to the boy you love more than anything else in the world.

you’re not sure how the dreams started but you have an idea.

and so does draco.

he reckons he must have used some sort of wandless magic the night he was thinking to himself on the astronomy tower. it had been a humid night and he was all alone. his eyes deadset on the bright moon in front of him. he had just started talking.

he knew the moon wasn’t someone that could actually listen but then again, maybe that’s what he wanted? he didn’t want someone to place any input on his situation. he just wanted to speak and let his thoughts travel into the void and maybe out from his aching head.

“i just want everything to be okay. mother deserves a son who can protect her and.. father needs me. i can’t fail. i just wish i had someone to talk to when the sun goes down. someone kind and someone warm. i know they’re somewhere out there. but maybe all i’ll ever have is you missus moon, at night when it’s just the stars to listen in to our conversation.” the boy had mumbled, before making his way to his dorm room.

you had been having a word with missus moon that night as well, alone in your hufflepuff prefect dorm. you thought yourself lucky to have a window so that you could see the stars and the moon. you were fighting sleep and had no one else to speak to, so you watched the bright yellow moon as you recounted your troubles.

“my dreams have been so bad recently missus moon. i think it’s because i’m still so scared for everyone and myself. they say the dark lord could strike any day. i’d hate for anyone i love or even myself to end up like poor cedric. i wish i had someone to talk to, someone to understand. everyone thinks i’m crazy, but they don’t know what i know. the world is getting scary. at least when the stars light up my room i have you missus moon.” you had sighed getting off the floor and laying down in your bed.

that night draco dreamt of flower fields and you. at first, the boy wondered if maybe it was real. it seemed real. he could see you and everything around you so vividly. and the same for you, you made out his platinum hair and could smell his crisp cologne. but when the two of you awoke, you knew it couldn’t be real.

until the next night, where the both of you met again in your dreams.

“are you following me?” you had asked draco.

he narrowed his eyes at you, “how could i follow you into a dream. what a stupid thing to ask.”

“you’re supposed to be nice to me. this is my dream after all.” you had pouted.

draco snorted, “i need to stop drinking tea before bed. i’m having dreams where the people in them think they’re the ones doing the dreaming.”

“but i am the one dreaming! this is my dream. i can control it, watch!” you’d grinned, before commanding a nearby tree to grow apples.

draco’s eyes had widened, “no, this can’t be right.”

you watched as he wished for the tree to grow taller before glaring at you, “smack yourself.”

you glared back at him, “no, but you can shove your fist down your throat if you’re going to be rude.”

draco circled you, “so you don’t have to do what i tell you and neither do i. strange.”

“why would i have to do what you tell me to do in my own dream?” you’d asked.

the boy had shrugged, “maybe it’s not just your dream. maybe it’s mine too.”

that’s the most the two of you ever discussed the shared dreams. after that there wasn’t a need. you both enjoyed them. both of you needed them.

once in study hall you caught draco reading a book about dreams but you didn’t ask him about it. in truth, you were too afraid to have him label you as insane.

draco found himself wanting to speak with you too. countless times. he had grown quite fond of you after the dreams he found you in every night. so in the daytime, he would sneak glances at you. he took notice if you did your hair differently or if your makeup was done. of course, he knew he couldn’t talk to you. you’d think him mad. still, he found himself dropping subtle clues to see if you’d come over to him, like reading a ghastly book about dreams in a class the two of you shared. it hadn’t worked but he could have sworn he caught you looking his way.

draco spends hours obsessing over you, the dreams, and the few glances you would give him. but the vanishing cabinet is almost fixed and he knows it’d be foolish to speak to you now. no matter how much he wishes to run into your arms and tell you to take him away from here, he won’t.

it’s a dreary day in june and you’re getting snacks for some of the first years when you hear it. maniacal laughter and breaking glass. your first thought is to check on your house. you rush into the hufflepuff common room and make sure everyone’s ok and then urge them to stay safe. they nod and bolt to their dorms.

then, you make your way to the source of the noise. the dining hall, which is torn to shreds, is crawling with death eaters. you feel lightheaded as you watch them. out of the corner of your eye, you see professor snape making his way to the astronomy tower.

curious, you quietly sneak behind him, careful not to make yourself known. you hear a voice above you. a voice you recognize.

draco.

you’re trying your hardest to figure out what he’s saying but you can’t. all the sounds around you are blending together and you can’t seem to calm down enough to hear anything. when the professor reaches the tower, underneath the scene of whatever is going on, you stay behind.

in a flash, the teacher is out of your vision and upstairs in the chaos.

“severus, please.” is all you hear before the killing curse bolts out of snape’s mouth.

you stand in shock as the footsteps trail out of the tower. draco. snape. dumbledore. death eaters. it was all so much.

“y/n! are you ok?” a watery-eyed harry potter asks from beside you. you don’t even question how he got here or if he saw what you did. instead, you fling your arms around him and stare at the wall petrified. no tears can escape your eyes, you’re in disbelief.

“come on. you have to breathe and we have to get down there. get your wand ready. we have to do something!” he shouts, voice breaking.

you look at him for a second before he bolts out of the room, wand in hand.

instead of trying to fight, talking to anyone about what you saw, or even going to look at your headmaster’s dead body like everyone else, you slip quietly into your prefects dorm.

you watch the moon until she’s gone and when you see mr sun the tears finally fall. you mumble, “talk to him please, mr sun.”

draco glanced at the blinding sun from the malfoy garden, where he had spent the night. he couldn’t be in that house. not after everything that happened. so instead, he sat in the garden thinking of his best thoughts, you.

he watches the sunrise, listens to the winds and the robins singing, and mutters to himself, “tell her how i feel. it shouldn’t end this way. since you are all her friends, she’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

a baby robin sings a little louder, almost like it’s agreeing, and it causes the boy to cry.

it’s an eerily quiet early morning in the room of requirement on the second of may. you’re in the back of the room, trying to sleep. sleep has become your only form of happiness. your dreams have become a wonderful fairytale. draco is still prevalent and he holds you tighter and tighter with each night.

almost as soon as you drift to bed, you hear gasps. you look up to find harry, ron, and hermione. without a care in the world, you rush to the three just like everyone else. harry gives you a weak smile and you return it.

the three of them explain that today is the day. today is the day the world is split into two and voldemort attacks. plans are arranged and everyone holds each other close.

selfishly, you wish you could see draco.

minutes later, a meeting is called by snape in the dining hall. You watch as neville and ginny procure robes for the green-eyed boy and walk to the hall.

the carrows look at everyone with malice in their eyes as snape drones on about a sighting of harry in hogsmeade. soon after, harry shows himself and begins arguing with the black-haired man. he tells everyone about the night in the astronomy tower.

mcgonagall throws curses at the man along with harry before he flies out of the hall. The woman looks at all of us, eyes wide but determined.

in a rush, everyone is scattered about. you follow neville to the bridge and help as much as you can. when the death eaters, led by greyback, enter hogwarts, you stand your ground. you’re ready to fight.

draco easily locates blaise and goyle before heading off to find his wand and harry potter. his chest aches with looming fear but he tries to repress it the most he can.

“i guess this is it boys.” blaise sighs.

draco looks at his friend, “we’ll be fine. just stay safe and together. don’t go weak on me now zabini.”

you’re doing your best to fight off corban yaxley but every time you’re ready to throw a killing blow his way he narrowly hits you with the killing curse. your fighting in a state of pure unadulterated anger. it’s been hours of fighting but your anger remains.

“stupid little girl, you’ll be dead before nightfall.” yaxley spits before hitting you with a weak spell.

you still double over a bit, but hold your ground enough to raise your wand and hit him with the cruciatus curse. in the corner of your eye you watch professor flintwick begin dueling the vicious man, before running inside the castle.

fire burns everywhere around draco. he’s about to turn to blaise and say his goodbyes before potter snatches him up and leads him out of the room of requirement. the second he’s on the ground he makes a run for it. he loses blaise on the way and can’t seem to figure out where to go. he’s on the second floor, tears are pooling out of his eyes and the ache in his chest has grown when his body collides with another.

you fall back, hitting your head against the hard stone of the castle floor. when you look up, your vision is hazy and shaky.

“y/n?”

you know that voice. it’s the same voice you’ve heard every single night for a year.

“draco?” you ask, hands reaching out.

“you’re bleeding. let me help,” he says before gently healing your head.

you stare at the boy, “you know it feels weird to see you. i’ve never really spoken to you besides the dreams.”

his eyes grow wide, “you know about those?”

you smile a little, “yeah, i do.”

the two of you find yourselves entering the great hall, helping whoever you two can.

draco is comforting a teary-eyed second year when blaise zabini comes in, eyes bloodshot and clutching his right arm.

you watch as the two embrace, pulling apart so that draco can tend to his arm.

minutes that feel like hours pass as the three of you silently process the commotion going on around you.

a tattered luna lovegood emerges through the rubble and towards the three of you.

“everyone’s outside now- harry he... i think you all should come with me.” her shaky voice requests.

draco looks to you and nods, helping you rise. his hand grasps yours and you all follow luna outside.

all around you is destruction. the place you’ve called home for years in now a bruised battleground and at the very center of it stands the man you’ve come to fear more than anything in the world. voldemort.

“harry potter, is dead.” the creature laughs.

you grip draco tighter and he looks at you with an expression of sorrow.

“from this day forth you put your faith in me. and now is the time to declare yourself! come forward and join us. or die.” the man spits, smiling at the broken faces opposite him.”

it is quiet for just a moment before lucius malfoy calls for his son. you watch the man and his wife plead with him. but his hand remains in yours and feet right beside you.

you look up at him and give him your brightest smile, a smile you would give him in dreams. as he peers down at you he knows that nothing in the world means more to him than you and that smile he’s spent hours telling missus moon about.

“you insolent boy, draco!” the snake-like man hisses.

you turn to face him, eyes wide with fury and hate.

neville begins limping toward the band of villains.

“i’d like to say something.” the boys breathes out.

voldemort smirks at him, “well neville i’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.”

“you’re wrong! harry’s heart did beat for us, for all of us!” and with that, he pulls the sword of godric gryffindor out of the sorting hat he’s been clutching and aims it at the deatheaters and their leader.

draco’s head cranes in harry’s direction, and in an instant, the boy flies out of hagrid’s arms and throws a spell at voldemort.

you cry out along with everyone else before watching voldemort’s followers disappear.

“come on, we’ve fought enough. i won’t let you die now!” draco commands, leading you to the bridge.

you follow, but turn to look at the castle one last time. draco stops as well and you see him meet ron and hermione’s gaze. ron nods his head and draco returns the gesture.

“let’s go draco.” you sigh.

he didn’t know he’d see you again. the two of you had gone to your home to bathe and sleep and when the boy found himself in his dreams, he saw you.

you smile at the platinum haired boy, “sit draco.”

he complies.

“i hope you haven’t gotten tired of seeing me. i suppose it will be a lot now. to have me in waking and in sleep.” you giggle.

draco stares at you deeply, “i could never get tired of you. i’ve spent a year talking to the moon, trying to get you. in hopes you're on the other side, talking to me too. i’ve asked the sun to tell you all the things i couldn’t, the wind to whisper all the things i love about you, all the rainbows to make you smile, and the trees to take you under their branches. i’d want nothing more than this.”

you lean your head on his shoulder, “i’m here now and we have eternity to tell eachother the things we haven’t said yet.”

the two of you can’t help but to stare at the moon some nights, silently thanking missus moonlight for putting in a word.

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inknopewetrust · 4 years

Text

In Another Universe (Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader)

Summary: If Thanos’ destruction wasn’t enough, being blipped into another universe was worse. After finding yourself in the universe of We Can Be Heroes, you must maneuver your new life and relationships while trying not to dwell on the one you lost.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader (We Can Be Heroes)

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Some descriptions of violence, nothing extreme.

A/N: *Gif not mine.* Thanks so much for requesting this @jupitersmoon167 ! I just have to say—not only did I love writing this, but it’s like a whole ass fic in one. Request are currently OPEN, see request guidelines in bio for details!

In an instant, the world you once knew was gone.

The last thing you remembered was the sensation of fear. But it was ethereal, painless compared to anything you’d ever experienced before. Fighting with Nat was worse than the affects of Thanos’ snap, well, for you anyway.

It wasn’t until you woke up in a world that felt so incredibly familiar yet so incredibly foreign at the same time that you realized what ever event the snap set off, it wasn’t one that brought peace to anyone.

“Y/n! Come play with us!”

The moment of relapsing memory was broken by the sounds of children running and shrieking in the park. The sound was strangely comforting because it reminded you of home, of the little one you had to let go, and the found family you may never see again. But the little girl that screeched your name from across the park on the metal bridge reminded you that there was something good in this world, even if it wasn’t your own.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

The voice sounded beside you on the other side of the tree before you even managed to budge from your leaning stature against it. Nothing Missy ever did went over Marcus Moreno’s head. He watched her like a hawk, as if his eyes were glued to her every movement but you couldn’t blame him. Missy was his life. He did everything for her.

“Don’t approve?” You quirked your head to the side with a smirk that you knew Steve would have said it reminded him of Natasha. Natasha, Steve, Tony...

“Well she doesn’t know you like we do. I think it’s best if she keeps her distance. Not to mention for the safety of the other kids...” Marcus trailed off as his gaze tracked from your own to the playground and the group of Heroic children that littered the place. It was chaotic, but normal? You didn’t know what was normal or not anymore so in truth, you felt it didn’t even matter.

“I don’t hurt children. I would never hurt a child.”

“How are we supposed to know that? What have you done but lie to all of us to make us believe you wouldn’t kill us all right now?”

“Are you trying to make me angry, Marcus?”

Your eyes narrowed as you crossed your arms over your chest. You knew they didn’t trust you. You knew they had a hard time believing your story, even after a year but yet they continued to let you go on missions. They continued to invite you to group luncheons and trusted that you wouldn’t sell their secrets to their enemies.

“Testing your patience.”

“If you didn’t trust me with your daughter, why did you let her eat the food I brought? Why do you let her come to headquarters-”

“Because The Heroics are family. This whole thing-” He rose his hand and gestured to heroes and their children gathered and played around them.

“-is her life as much as it is mine. You came here from some “world” that we’ve never heard of that apparently looks a lot like this one. You are the stranger here, not her and especially not at headquarters.”

Marcus huffed in aggravation and stalked away from the tree and to Anita who had been set up at a picnic table not far from the playground. Anita watched her son make conversation with the newest Heroic and shook her head in a brief and tiny fashion as her son walked toward her with a plume of invisible smoke coming out of his ears.

“You shouldn’t be so rude, give the girl a break. She’s lost everything and everyone she’s ever know and I’d be lying if I said she wasn’t a brilliant fighter. The training she could give all of you is worth more money than we spend in a year fighting aliens.” The look on Anita’s face was critical of Marcus. The son she knew, the one she raised was not cynical or mean. He was kind and loving and a father who would have wanted Missy to have strong women in her life.

“She doesn’t belong here. She isn’t a Heroic and she doesn’t need to talk to Missy any more than she does already.”

“But does she seek out Missy at headquarters or does Missy seek out her?” Marcus couldn’t recall if Missy’s interactions with you were brought on by his own kin. He found the girl hanging upside down on the monkey bars with Guppy below her jumping up to try and touch the long, black locks of his daughter. She looked so carefree, so full of joy until she flopped back onto her feet and turned her gaze toward the tree, almost ready to yell. Marcus followed her eyes only to notice you had gone, like a ghost, and Missy was seeking you out.

In The Heroic Headquarters, you often wandered the halls aimlessly, minding your own business as your thoughts were filled with the events that happened exactly one year before. It was already your one year anniversary in this new world. But my God, or to whatever God was out there, you missed your old life. Even if life wasn’t exactly the most glamorous before Thanos arrived, you had found a comfortable family in Natasha, Steve, and the others who stayed behind at the Avenger’s Facility in New York. Natasha was your sister in all things but blood and you would do anything to see her again. Steve had been the one to lean on when your memories of Russia, of that room, of the little one you had to give away, came flowing back in waves too ample to deal with alone. They were everything to you, everything.

And now you sat alone in an office you were sure was once a broom closet and lie in wait for the other heroes to come, visit, to extend a gracious hand to someone who is hurting but it never came. Every day that passed made that more clear. Even the materials they gave you were sub-par to the advanced ones that scattered the offices of the Heroics. You wondered how this world’s technology was so different from your own and no one knew of it. This multiverse, this time continuum that has taken place is far beyond any knowledge you claimed to have. It took nothing to image Tony or Bruce having an absolute field day with all of this.

“Ms. L/N?” A knock alerted you that a visitor had in fact found your small, grungy door in a vacant hallway.

“Come in!” Who were you to ignore a visitor when all you could think of was the family you’d never see?

Anita Moreno cracked the door open and popped her head in with a smile. She quietly closed the door behind her as she took a seat in the broken desk chair situated across from your desk. You wheeled as best as you could from behind the computer to give her a small, welcoming smile.

“What can I do for you Mrs. Moreno?”

“Please, it’s Anita. You’re a Heroic now, no need for the formality.”

“I’m not-” It wasn’t a chuckle that sounded with your denial. It was a stone-cold denial of being a Heroic because it erased what you really were, an Avenger.

“You are here. You are here.” Her tone wasn’t offended, but re-assuring in her proclamation. Anita could read people like books and you doubt you evaded her abilities by being from another universe. She was far too skilled to let people and their problems fall under a radar.

“I have a request for you, well two to be exact.” She looked up from her folded hands expectantly waiting for you to nod, allowing her to continue on.

“First, I have a mission for you with Ms. Vox and Marcus. It’s nothing too concerning but it needs to be taken care of. And for my other request, I’d like you to help train Missy.” You were sure if you had been drinking anything from water to vodka that it would have found itself all over Anita, but you managed to stay mum and concealed.

“And Marcus approves of this?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Going behind your son’s back and letting his precious daughter train with a woman he sees as a weapon? My, Anita. You have taken me by surprise, I must say.”

The elder woman smiled slyly as if she were getting away with a far more terrible crime. Missy was just as important to her as she was Marcus. Anita was not going to let Marcus’ prejudice against you prevent Missy from looking up to an accomplished and heroic woman as yourself.

“As long as Missy comes home with no scrapes or bruises, there should be no problem. You can use one of the rooms here and I’ll make sure his card can’t access it. I’ll bring Missy in when she’s done with school, leaving about an hour for her to work with you.”

Anita rose to her feet, preparing herself to leave the room but instead, she turned back around, looking you dead in the eyes and for once, looked like someone who cared.

“I don’t know what your world was like. I don’t know who you were there or the family you left behind, but this is your world as much as it is mine, Missy’s, or Marcus’. He shouldn’t be so cruel. I see how you look at the girl, like she’s special. She is. But I couldn’t help but think it was something more...” She trailed off her speech just as Marcus had that day at the park. Like mother like son you suppose.

“Did you have a family? A child—I mean?”

For the first time in your life you were speechless. Was it that obvious? The longing? You never spoke of the child, not even to Natasha or the others because it was far too painful to recall. The Red Room was traumatic enough and by barely escaping to save the life of a child you so desperately wanted only to give it away to protect its life was worse. You didn’t know where she was or who she lived with now. Her life was an illusion to you if you could craft one. That alone broke you, chilled you to the bone. You held her for two minutes before they took her from your arms to give to another and it would be the one thing you would always regret.

“You don’t have to answer-” Anita backed away from the question when she analyzed your reaction. But she was the only one who cared enough to get to know you and that opportunity for connection was slipping away.

“Yes.”

“Yes, I did. I don’t know her name or if she’s... if she’s alive anymore but I did. I had to give her away. She would be ten.”

“Oh I—I am sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No one does.”

Anita could only nod and attempt to leave again but was halted by your voice.

“Thank you for coming here.” She nodded, acknowledging the difficult transition she knew you were having.

“When is the mission?”

“Two weeks. I’ll, um, bring Missy tomorrow. I’ll send a message about the room later today.”

She left with a twist of the door handle, leaving you with the thoughts of the girl who you tried to, but never could forget. But Missy helped to fill that gaping, vacant hole in your heart. After the first week of pure hesitancy, Missy came running in every day after school with a wide smile, bragging about the grades she received, the friends she had, and the way her father always put her perfect grades on the fridge when she got home.

Missy let you into her life without you asking for it. Even with the distance you tried to give her in order to protect yourself from any kind of unintentional attachment with the girl, she melted it with a look in her kind, young brown eyes and her shining smile. Missy treated you like the adult and role model she wanted, not some foreign alien that the Heroes treated you as.

“How do you know how to do all this stuff?”

Missy was stretching on the red mat while you built an obstacle (of sorts) but only half of her attention was on the task you had instructed her to do. It was the second week of your daily training with Missy and she was disappointed to hear that tomorrow, you would be off on a mission, therefore her favorite after school activity would have to wait.

“I was a spy for many years and I had been in this academy of women fighters.” That’s the only explanation you could give her without truly telling her what happened to you in Russia. The horrible, wicked people who experimented and forced you to become a weapon on behalf of the state.

“And what about your old team? How did you meet them?” She sat up now on her knees in an anxious, excited inertia.

There was an initial hesitancy with that question, though you had to ask yourself why. Why, after a year of being in this new world, were you still not willing to be open and voice your story to someone who wanted, someone asking, for it. But what did you have to lose but divulging in this girl’s questions? Nothing. Heck, Nat would probably be proud that you let your guard down enough to make a connection in the first place.

“I met them through-”

You didn’t even get passed the fourth word when the door to the training room slid open and a very, very, angry Marcus charged in with Anita on his tail. She looked pleadingly at you as he grabbed his daughter off the mat on the floor and grabbed her bag from the highest stack of mats to his left.

“Marcus please!” Anita tried to plead with him but he did not listen.

“No! I told you I don’t want her anywhere near her and what did you do!?”

Marcus tossed the bag to Missy who barely caught it in her trembling hands. She had never seen her father break the cool façade he wore on the daily.

“Dad-”

“You go with her. I am not going to have this conversation with you now, but when I get home, you better believe that we will be having a long talk about this.”

Anita wrapped her arms protectively over Missy and practically dragged the girl out of the room while Marcus stood with his hands splayed on his hips in anger. Maybe if it were another universe you would have found it just a little adorable.

“I had my suspicions that this is where she was. Three days ago when my card denied me access to this room I knew someone was lying to me about it.”

“Marcus, you’re over-“

“I am NOT OVERREACTING!” He shouted with a blazing fury. His eyes were filled with nothing but a fatherly rage.

“I asked you to not go anywhere near my daughter and here she is training with you like some—some prodigy! She is my daughter!”

“You think I don’t know that!? Do you really think I am that stupid to not notice the girl is your daughter? She’s just like you!”

“If she was just like me, then she wouldn’t have run off every afternoon with a deadly stranger.”

You shook your head at him with petty laughter.

“You are the most ridiculous, most annoying, and most PRETENTIOUS PERSON I HAVE EVER MET!”

Rage continued to boil up his body like a pot of water. Had Marcus ever met someone he found as infuriating as you? No. Had he ever met someone like you? No. Had he ever been slightly curious about you? He wouldn’t answer that question. Besides, now he was playing protective dad and he never had been given a reason to trust you.

“If you had a child, I bet you would feel the same.”

You think he meant it as some sick burn but he had no idea, none of them did. So your brows lifted at him as a smirk graced your face knowingly.

“If you cared for a second to get to know me— you would know the answer to that question.”

More than a deadly spy, though none of them ever cared to know more than what your profession suggested.

You left the room in an abrupt haste following the confession. A part of your conscious still wasn’t sure whether or not telling everyone every little detail about your past was a good idea, let alone a safe idea. But every night you thought of the family you disappeared from; how you wished you could have told them everything about your past before they disintegrated into dust around you. If you couldn’t do it then, maybe you could do it now.

The next day happened to be the mission Anita had set up for Marcus, Ms. Vox, and yourself. While Marcus waited in uniform with the singing siren pacing the room, he was sure you weren’t going to walk through those doors. One side of him felt that you were the kind of person who ran away after exposing some deep secret, the other thought maybe you just quit. But when you waltzed in with your weapons and uniform perfectly pressed, he couldn’t make eye contact.

If it weren’t for Missy’s dotting on your character that previous evening, he probably would have still been angry. But there was little doubt in his mind that Missy would lie about someone she trusted, so maybe he could give you a chance. That belief quickly turned when you wouldn’t speak to him or even look him in the eye five hours into the mission that had you all stuck in a building across from an increasingly suspicious studio apartment. According to Anita, this is where technological weapons were being stored and the mission was to identify the weapons and alert headquarters so they could send an extraction team. Unfortunately the view was poor and between the three of you, only three pieces of equipment were identified.

“I think we should try and sneak in.” The suggestion came from Ms. Vox who appeared a bit eager to be on an incredibly serious mission. Marcus tried to look at you for an opinion but you gave him no audience.

“If we go in, someone needs to stay behind to keep guard.”

“Maybe I could keep guard and you both can go in?”

The proposition was most unwelcome. You and Marcus, together, on a mission that was possibly deadly, and you still wouldn’t look each other in the eye.

“Or I can go with one of you?” Ms. Vox’s voice was straining but she walked on egg shells to get an answer. Be the bigger person, be the bigger person.

“Marcus and I will go inside. Vox wait down the hall from the door and you need to press the call button on the watch if you see anyone. If we are not out of the apartment in five minutes, alert headquarters and let them bring in the team.” It was a demand and no questions were asked as Ms. Vox rose first to leave the room, followed by you, then a concerned but unquestioning Marcus.

To the building across the street and down the hall, no words were exchanged between the two of you. You both kept quiet as the room came closer and all weapons were drawn in protection.

“You take the left and I’ll go right.” Again, he didn’t question it but he did nod, meet your eyes in understanding.

For starters, the apartment was entirely open concept. The floor was lined with rows of computers; all had been wired to one another and their screens were a blinding blue. You looked up at Marcus as he rounded the row nearly three yards in front of you. The look he returned was unsettled by the scene.

“What do you think they’re doing here?”

“Beats me. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” And it was true—he truly hadn’t. Most of the time missions were against some alien breed, certainly not old junkie computers from his childhood. You lowered your gun for a brief moment, pressing a key on the closest keyboard and all the computers went black. The light from two sets of comms were the only light in the room until a stream of three, then four, then five lines of green invaded from the window. Slowly they crept on the floor until the met a black boot and trailed up the targets body.

It took no time for you to realize what it was.

“Get down! Marcus get down!”

You practically barreled into him as fast as you could, wrapping your arms around his torso as his swords went flying in the opposite direction. Gunfire erupted around you both as you scrambled to drag his body with yours to a corner away from the windows.

“Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

All you could illicit was a nod in combination with a panic gaze. It would take four minutes for the rest of the Heroes to arrive and find the two of you. But whatever happened in Marcus’ brain the moment he saw you tumbled towards him in his moment of peril, changed the dynamic.

It first began as complete acceptance into the team. No one questioned your actions and your abilities were praised just as much as the others. Marcus didn’t keep his distance, but also allowed Missy to continue lessons after school because he trusted you. You saved his life and if it weren’t for you, he would have never seen Missy again.

After about a year of acceptance, Marcus attempted friendship. He would ask you to do things, outside of work, especially when they involved Missy. Bowling, Pizza nights, ice cream runs, game nights; they all became normal after the first few times of pure hesitancy. Although you weren’t entirely comfortable with the idea because of how he treated you in the past, you could tell it was an honest effort. You also would be lying if you said you didn’t have any fun doing those things.

In your fourth year in this new universe something else happened—something unexpected. Instead of what had become a usual game night, Marcus asked you on a date. Your initial reaction was to say no, laugh at the attempt, and return to the monopoly game (yes, you did find it strange that this universe had many similarities to the other). But the “what if” question lingered after minutes of contemplation so you said yes. And you would be lying again if you said anything other than it was “the best date you had ever been on.”

And somewhere in that fifth year of living, Marcus asked you to move in with Missy and himself, and you said yes. Finally, a family of your own that wouldn’t disappear at the snap of a finger. Every day you thought of what Natasha would say to you if she knew about this. One part of you wanted to believe that she would be surprised but proud, while the other believed she would laugh and call you soft. In reality she would have responded both ways.

Every morning you woke up to a man who looked at you as if you held the world in your hand. How you went from enemies to lovers was beyond your comprehension but you didn’t want to question it further. The way he would hold your hand on difficult days, smile at you from across the table, kiss you goodnight, love you until you believed you couldn’t be loved anymore. It was those things you didn’t have in that other world that you just held onto with a tight grip now.

As Marcus readied lunch in the Kitchen, you helped stack new books on Missy’s bookshelf with her. The girl had grown so much over the years and was making her way into becoming the leader Marcus, and Anita, wanted her to be.

“I left a box out in the hall, do you think you could get it?” Missy asked as she admired the cover of a fantasy book in front of her. She looked up with her big brown eyes that reminded you so much of the man in the other room that you couldn’t deny her anything.

“Sure. Be right back.”

But you never came back.

Because you woke up with a jolt on the dirt ground of a forest you hadn’t seen in years.

Wakanda.

272 notes · View notes

lifeexperience · 4 years

Text

We are vengeance.

It has been almost three month since Lila Rossi came back from her fabulous trip from Achu. And since she arrived again she enjoyed the glamour. Enjoyed how everybody - who was someone, of course, - danced as she moved her strings. Even that Capitano della Moralità, Adrien was doing what she was saying.

Just lonely, little Marinette stood on the other side.

The Italian grinned confidently. If she had some plan like that day, she was going to ruin that little girl.

Anyway she had to take prioritization of her tasks. Firstly it’s time to make a Wikipedia page about herself for future reference. She couldn’t be sloppy from here because she could meet more forceful people than Dupain-Cheng.

Okay, so she would list her accomplishments: modeling with Adrien Agreste , best friend with Shaytan, knowing Jagged Stone… When she finally finished, the sun already went down and it was dark. Lila disinterestedly looked at her door, his mother again worked overtime.

Nevermind, she would eat something then collect links of her publications. Yepp, after some pasta all'Ortolana the work would be so much easier.

However when she went back to gather her online mentions she didn’t find anything. There was nothing about her on the Ladyblog, or on Adrien’s Instagram. Someone deleted them? Who? Maybe it’s just a bug? She would know more if she asks Alya first.

Yeah, don’t need any panic.

“Ciao Alya! I have a question.” she said immediately as that wannabe journalist answered. “Yeah, yeah, così accidentally you didn’t delete my interview from your blog, right?” She nervously patted her laptop as she waited for Alya to look at it. After two minutes there was the answer. She tried to disguise her anger, but she didn’t have the patient at the moment for that stupid girl apologizes.

So somehow her interview was lost. And she didn’t have to call Capitano della Moralità about their model photo, she knew he didn’t have too much control on it.

Lila unconsciously started to chew her nails. It was a bad habit of hers since her childhood.

Who had enough knowledge to hack two different websites to mess with her? Marinette was too morally high for this. And Max, who had the skill, was already under her thumb.

“Argh!”

She had to calm down. She couldn’t become an akume because of this since she planned a bigger performance for the next week.

Breath! In! Out!

Okay.

Maybe tomorrow she could make a new interview with Alya and drop some seemingly accident infos about the new adult heroes. Then at the weekend photoshoots she could force Adrien again.

Yeah. Why was she nervous at all? She could use this to grow her territory.

It has been almost six days since Adrien reluctantly posted a new photo about the two of them. There were fewer likes and more comments then before, but she was happy because she could continue to build her Wikipedia page. It would be her first thing when she got home.

And tomorrow she would start her small shame with poor Marinette again. The little girl already was alone most of the time in the school, but Lila knew it was a matter of time to find new friends outside of their class. And she wanted to prevent every attempt of it.

I am great at ruining others.

She smiled sweetly as she pretended to listen to another rabbling from Rose. That pink fool rarely shut up about her disgusting viewpoint, and Lila sometimes thought she would be a perfect next target after Dupain-Cheng. And if this little pink wannabe would be destroyed, her loser girlfriend would fall with her.

Yepp, she will be an excellent following after the shit show Marinette will go through.

“Lila, it’s not your phone?” Alix poked her. She turned to her in confusion and listened to the ringing.

“No.” she shook her head. “My ringtone is different. I don’t like metal music.”

The skater tilted her head. “You sure?” Lila nodded, starting to be annoyed. “Because it’s coming from your bag.”

“What?”

She hurriedly got her phone out, and indeed it was ringing with that strange growl music. And the number also was foreign, yet she picked up. “Hello?”

“It’s Lila Lucrezia Rossi?” Everybody in the classroom jumped at once.The voice from the other side was much louder than she thought and now every one of her classmates watched her with wide eyes. She fastly tried to turn down the volume as she answered in agreement. “So your appointment was moved to the next with Doctor Lacroix.”

“Wha...What appointment?” Lila asked. She didn’t remember any medical thing. Of course she told a lot of tails about her health problems, but she was completely healthy.

“So for the farting irritation.” The woman said with a monotone tone. And of course, because Lila couldn’t turn off the speaker everybody in the room heard it.

She blinked.

“I… I think you… you called the wrong number.” she muttered as now she tried to end the call. With no success.

“But you're Lila Lucrezia Rossi, age fourteen, Italian, aren’t you?” Lila looked around embarrassingly. How did that woman know that about her? If… If she denies it her little puppets' trust would crack. But if she continues this conversation… She didn’t even want to know.

And as she stood there in panic and listened about her supposed condition she wanted to be killed. Every fucking eye was on her. She even saw that goodie-two-shoe tried to hide her giggle with Adrien grinning next to her. And of course she noticed how her circle slid away from her.

Fuck.

She skipped two weeks of school again after that… THAT phone call. Of fucking course almost every one of her classmates called her almost daily to ask about her health. And she had to answer with a lot of information for Every Fucking QUESTION.

It was irritating.

However she couldn’t stay at home for more days because her mother. It would be too suspicious if there would be some supposed akuma without any TV gossip about it.

So she had to go to school.

Fortunately most of the kids were understanding and didn’t bring up the topic. But there was Kim. Of FUCKING course.

As many times as he saw her he faked a fart with a disgustingly loud moan. She tried to cry about it, though everybody said to bear with it. Kim was just Kim and if she didn’t react he would let it go.

At first Lila didn’t want to believe it then Alya patted her shoulder sympathetically and left her to stand alone. And because of these really annoying events she couldn’t start her plan with Dupain-Cheng who - of fucking couse - got closer to Adrien. To her key to the famous-rich-carefree life.

They were chatting cheerfully in the classroom without any glance at someone other than each. They were in their little world, and every girl in the class blissfully sighed at the sight.

And if that day was not enough of a bother to her somehow her school tablet started streaming porno when she tried to project out her presentation. She was mortified just like everybody in the classroom. And she didn’t even have luck with teachers. Because of - fucking - course that lesson was with Mendeleiev.

It was already December when she finally served her detention time because of that… THAT incident. She couldn’t go any photoshoot with Adrien due to her attendance problem.

She didn’t even see Batman, yeah THAT Batman when he saved Shaytan and Chat Noir. She was at a detention with others. Although she could tell Alya a little story about her knowing the American hero and how he called him to help Paris.

However she only had ten minutes to bask the light because her mamma called her home. Immediately. At first Lila found it strange, but she shook the confusion down. She said goodbye to the wannabe journalist and went home. She blissfully entered the elevator then with a big smile greeted her mother.

“Lila!” her mother nodded sternly. The woman waited as she - not so happily anymore, dropped her things in her room. “Why did you use your emergency money?”

Lila furrowed her eyebrows. “But I didn’t.”

“No?” her mamma asked.

She shook her head. She didn’t use her emergency card because her mother could check it anytime. That’s why she asked her payment in cash from Gabriel.

“Then tell me mia figlia, why your debit card is in the minus?” Her mamma held a tablet with an account statement in front of Lila. She slowly read over the document. And indeed, her debit card which was only for emergencies was in minus. The description list showed a lot purchasing from different sites that she didn’t even know.

“I didn’t do this.” she said franctincly.

“No?” her mother glanced at the numbers. “You know how much money it was? We kept it for your university years.”

“We?” Lila whispered as she became aware of the gravity of the situation.

“Yes. Your father was the one who drew my attention to it.”

At first Lila only just gaped then she felt how her blood started circulating. Of fucking course that bastard was the one who spying after her.

“You are a grounded signorina!” she heard her mother voice through her anger. “After the school ends you have to come home then do your homework. I take your phone and electronics too.”

She didn’t even have time to protest as she saw a dark butterfly. She quietly waited as that insect landed on her phone. “How unfair to blame something on others when she is not at fault.” She heard the well-known tone. “Finanza I’m giving you the power to punish everyone who sinned against you. Your only task to bring to me their Miraculous.”

“Of fucking course.”

She was defeated again. But one day she would destroy the fame of Shaytan. That girl would taste the fall and humiliation.

“LILA!” A loud yell cut her from her plans as she sat at the ground. “Lila!” Someone shook her. She looked up to meet Alya irritating face. “Are you okay?”

She blinked some to win some precious moment to calm down. Then she nodded with a fake whimpering. “What happened? You shouted about some money then forced everyone to admit their sins.”

“Oh… I… I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” she sobbed while she tried to hide her dry eyes.

“It’s okay.” Alya hugged her. “Can you stand up?”

She shakely raised on her foot. They silently walked along the pavement for some time when she finally looked around. They were not far away from the school. And of course it meant they were near to the Dupain-Cheng's bakery.

At first Lila didn’t even notice the bakery, then she heard a shocked gasp from next to her. Alya with wide eyes pointed forward. She also turned the direction and her jaw also dropped. There stood Marinette, little innocent Marinette, embracing a tall, muscular man. After some moments they let go of each other and with a big smile Marinette got in the car with the stranger.

“What… Who was he?”

Next day Lila wasn’t able to forget that stranger with the baker girl. He was gorgeous, but most important, older than them and a little dark. Plus he was clearly an adult. Alya tried to claim he was surely a cousin of Marinette, however Lila wasn’t that certain about it. They didn’t look alike. And if she remembered correctly Alya never told about any relatives of Marinette except her great-uncle chef and grandparents. Nobody else.

“Hm.” If she could twist it somehow then she would be on advantage again. But how? Alya was adamant about the family thing, but what if… Perhaps some well aimed stab about gang members. Perhaps.

Although she needed to conceal her mirth as she eyed her classmates. They all stood at the bottom of the stairs and were themselves like stupid sheeps they are. Lila forced a shy smile on herself and carefully stepped between them to tell a new tale about her time in China. And of fucking course it was not a coincidence, she knew well if she use any rather distinct - nevertheless linked to Marinette, - facts then Dupain-Cheng was much easier to upset.

However that stupid girl didn’t bother to pay any attention to her. She just stood beside Adrien and chatted happily with him.

Lila frowned.

“There is a problem?” someone poked her shoulder. It was Mylene.

“No… No.” her smile was strained. “I just… Why are Marinette and Adrien avoiding us?”

And everybody simultaneously turned their way. The two blissfully laughed at something as they ignored everything else.

“How sweet!” she heard Rose’s murmurs. Yeah, like pineapple on pizza. Bhrr.

She started to open her mouth to say something though she wasn’t able to voice any sound. A darker than black and really long limousine parked in front of them. It was not Adrien’s one, neither Chloé’s.

And the most surprising thing was Marinette jumping up and down for the sight.

All of them including Lila watched as their class president pulled Adrien to the car and after some debate with the driver they got in the car.

What did she just watch?

“Oh!” It was not a shocked ‘Oh!’, it was a ‘I realized what was happening’. And Lila also wanted to know what the fuck happened before her beautifull eyes.

“You know something, Nino?” She really tried to conceal her angry curiosity.

The DJ nodded with a relaxing smile. “Marinette’s family visiting from America.”

“You mean she has relatives in America?” Alya asked, more interested than a few minutes ago when she listened to Lila’s gossip.

“Oh, hell!” Kim shouted. “The brothers, right? I almost forgot about them.”

Alya tilted her head as he turned to the swimmer. “Brothers?”

“Yeah.” Nino talked again. “Dick and Jay, and Timtam… and… Who was the one who pissed Chloé off?”

“Some Da… De… Demon!”

“No. His name was…”

Lila tuned out the conversation. So Marinette had a family in the States. And they most certainly rich drawing that conclusion from the limo. Why didn’t she do better research before she transferred?

In the middle of the week was the career day and Lila was really lucky to talk her mamman down about coming to it. Of course she didn’t want her here. It would be a disaster.

She had a quite good feeling about the day. If she heard correctly only a few parents agreed to participate and after the school for the day would end. And naturally she kinda forgot this particular information when she told her mother about this ‘really awful’ day.

Yep, I am a genius.

She confidently walked through the hallways and winked at some cute boy because not only Adrien was appreciable in this school. Maybe if Monsieur Agreste would appear she could negotiate for a new line just for herself. After all she always paid attention to his handsome boy.

Humming the newest XY’s song Lila happily stepped in the classroom. However her mood dropped exactly that moment when her foot touched the room’s floor. Since there, in the middle of the room stood with her fake innocent Marinette and that gorgeous foreign man. And from closer he was more handsome than she first thought. Even Madam Bustier blushed and she had a husband.

Why has this girl this kind of luck?

Lila forced a charming smile on her face and with a friendly wave she sat down. She would not risk her status in front of that man when Marinette is nearby. She had to calculate carefully so for the time she just waited for the start.

When everybody arrived the teacher began her really boring speech about the importance of work knowledge and connections. Lot of the guests nodded in agreement. There was Rose’s mother who was a florist, Nino’s father was a doctor and Alix’s historian father. And of course Marinette’s mysterious man.

She was really curious about him. He wore a perfectly fitted suit and was fucking handsome, nevertheless he looked young. Maybe twentish. It’s maximum six year age difference between them. It’s not too bad.

She patiently waited as every one of the guardians did their presentation when finally the man stepped forward.

“Before I introduce myself I would like to clear something up.” His voice was a pleasant baritone. Even Adrien didn’t have that kind of sexy voice. Lila already enjoyed the show.

“I would like to ask everyone present to turn off the phones, tablets and any other smart device.”

Lila indifferently watched as everyone reluctantly got their device and turned them off. She didn’t get back hers since her mother grounded her. How lucky, she grimaced.

“In the next step please read through the confidentiality agreement that Marinette hands out. If you don’t want to partake in it or don’t agree to the terms I have to ask you to leave the room.” he continued as the baker girl gave everyone a copy.

As Lila looked around some of her classmates without thinking signed it up. And surprisingly it was Chloé and Adrien who handed back among the first. She also saw how after that some other looked at their paper with more bravery and signed it. She didn’t even bother to read it, just scan the logo at the top and the stamp at the bottom. She didn’t know this company so she also wrote her name on and handed it back.

Nobody left the room.

“Thank you, and I am apologizing for that little inconvenience, but this is necessary in today’s competitive sphere.” he said as he and Marinette counted and rechecked every one of the papers.

After a few minutes they finished. “Since today we also published an article it’s not that big of a harm if I introduce myself.” he smiled a little at Marinette and pulled her next to him. “My name is Damian Wayne and I am one of Marinette’s siblings.”

Lila straightened. She heard it right?

“I work at the Wayne Enterprise as a co-CEO beside my brother Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

It can’t be!

“After our Father decided he would like to spend more time with his family, I took over his position. Some of my...”

How the fucking hell?

Lila kind of lost herself and didn’t hear anything other than the slowly repeating ‘Wayne’ echo. That rascal was a Wayne heir?

And Lila targeted her?

Oh fuck.

It was Friday when Lila finally understood Marinette’s real power. It was never her connection or her skills. Not even her so-called friends.

No.

It was her family.

She of course knew about the Waynes. Who not? They were celebrities, start managers, philanthropists, fucking Gods. And of fucking course every one of the students also knew about them. So for the next couple of days went by like a couple of seconds. One moment she was the center of the attention then suddenly everybody wanted to be friends with Marinette.

Everybody.

Even the fucking street-sweeper.

And of course there was the media attention. The police had to be called because of the sensation. Lila even saw how two journalists quarreled about which one hid in one the bushes in front of the school.

Naturally she wanted to take advantage of the situation, however as the article with her name was published her mother’s phone started ringing. And the caller was Lila's worst nightmare.

On Friday she and her mamman head to the Wayne Enterprise’s Parisian branch. It was a modern building with clear glass windows and a big dark gold W letter. They were hurriedly ushering in an empty meeting room where there were too many chairs for Lila’s liking.

Her mother - of course, - was enraged. She almost learnt everything about Lila’s school life. Just almost. Unfortunately it was enough to lose her trust in her daughter. Lila was grounded kind of permanently. She wouldn’t get back her phone kind of ever. She only could use her mother’s computer and just for homework. She was not expelled from Francois-Dupont, however she had detention for a year and had to repeat this school year.

And now she would learn what the Waynes cooked up for her.

She grimaced.

“Good morning Madam Rossi and Mademoiselle Rossi.” greeted them Damian Wayne himself as he steeped in the room. He was followed by Marinette, her parents - or they were even her parents? Lila wasn’t able to read any article about the family ties. -, a petite Asian woman, then some other more business-like men and women. Surely the lawyers.

“I think you know why you are here.” Damian stated as he sat at the head of the table. Marinette went to his left side with her parents (?) and the petite woman sat down at his right side with the lawyers.

“Yes.” Her mother nodded.

“We would like to sue your daughter, Mademoiselle Lila Lucrezia Rossi, for breaking our confidentiality agreement. Furthermore ask a restraining order to prohibit her from approaching my little sister, Marinette Athanasia Al Ghul Wayne.” This man spoke with a really unconcerned voice that Lila almost thought he was not even interested in his sibling’s life.

“Yes.” Her mamman agreed without any protest.

“However” his voice steeled, “because my sister is a really kind soul she will not sue for the physical violence, a mental and physical harassment and the defaming.” he stared down at her with dark eyes. “Nevertheless we, as from her guardians who are presented” he pointed to the stranger Asian woman and himself, “decided to put on the blacklist Mademoiselle Lila Lucrezia Rossi in every business in which we owned the majority.”

The air got stuck in Lila’s body. Every business? Every? The Waynes owned half of the planet.

“But” spoke the petite woman, “we would ignore this blacklisting if the Mademoiselle successfully participates in various therapies.” She passes toward a paper. “It’s a list of some advised areas to search for good specialists. We don’t want to break a young child's career so we are ready to compromise.”

Lila almost believed her then she glanced at the man. At first she thought this Damian Wayne was gorgeous. And indeed his look was perfect, however she didn’t meet more horrifying people than him. His eyes screamed for murder.

She turned back to her mother who kind of looked relieved. “We… I thank you.” she breathed.

After that were just formalities. Signing up that or this. Lila wanted to run home and curl up. And cry.

She worked for her fame. She worked hard to destroy those lives in her way. She didn’t think she would meet someone who could destroy her with just a flick.

However the paper said otherwise.

Her fucking status said otherwise.

She didn’t remember a lot from the meeting after that. She barely registered when they arrived home. She almost didn’t hear her father's disappointed voice on the phone.

And Lila almost missed the little note on her desk. With a photo about herself as she moves to get an akuma.

We are the night. We are vengeance. We are a family.

#maribat #lila rossi #platonic daminette #bio dad bruce wayne #oneshot #2021

196 notes · View notes

just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

Text

Paloma, Part I

Series Masterlist - Part I - Part II

Word count: 4100+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Statesman!Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, and "You" (OC cis/het female reader, Statesman research analyst, code name “Paloma”; age 26; reader is “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: fully legal age gap; curse words; references to M/F sex; lots of yearning; a little sprinkling of angst; American readers, please be warned that this piece features the absolutely filthy fantasy of Statesman paying off your student loans in full

You left Kentucky on a sunny June morning with a rolling suitcase, six cardboard boxes, and a heart full of golden light. You were ready for the new challenges of your promotion and the move to New York, but it was still hard to quell the little butterflies that insisted on dancing and twirling in your gut. Statesman HQ was like a beacon that had been calling to you for the last three years, and you were half-convinced that the promotion and the move were a daydream; something that would be snatched out of your hands if you thought about it too much.

It was strange to leave Kentucky, your home since you were four years old. You had been raised in a small town about an hour south of Louisville, and you hadn't had the opportunity to leave until college. Even then you didn't travel very far, just to a dorm room at the University of Louisville, going back to your hometown for every vacation instead of flying off to California or Europe like some of your more glamorous friends.

You had put your time to good use, though. You busted your ass and completed an accelerated program in Criminal Justice that earned you both a Bachelor's and a Master's in one go, with a minor in statistics and data science. The result was a deep and abiding love of research and analysis, with the burning desire to do good in the world.

---

The Friday morning of your graduation ceremony, you emerged from your apartment fresh-faced and giddy, ready to walk the stage and start the next phase: adult life in the "real world." You knew that your life was about to change, but as you juggled the garment bag with your cap and gown and tried to lock your door, you had no idea just how much. You heard a soft voice say your name behind you, and it made you jump and drop your purse, spilling the contents across your doorstep. You turned to see a woman of about 40, with flawless terra-cotta skin and an adorable mop of chestnut hair. Black horn-rimmed glasses framed bright, inquisitive eyes. She immediately bent to help you retrieve your belongings, stammering gentle apologies.

"I'm so sorry! Let me help you get your things. I didn't mean to scare you." She smiled sweetly at you and handed you back your sunglasses and lip gloss.

"No! It's fine, I'm sorry I'm so preoccupied." You lifted the garment bag by way of explanation. "Graduation day! Um, how can I help you?"

"You don't know me, but my name is Ginger. I work for an organization that recruits bright young minds like yours. It's a lot to explain, but if you're interested in a job interview next week, we'd love to talk with you." She handed you a creamy white business card with a Louisville address.

You frowned. "Statesman Distillery? I don't have any experience with alcohol production or marketing. I do data analysis and my degrees are in criminal justice."

"We know. We've been following your research and your schooling for a while." She gave you a mischievous smile, and it looked for all the world like she was hiding something fun behind it, something secretive and intriguing that made you want to know more.

"Please, just give me an hour of your time next week? When you have some time to pay us a visit, just call that number and ask for me. I'm really looking forward to chatting with you."

You thanked her and promised you would call, and then you tucked the card into your bag and forgot all about it for nearly a week. Graduation day was hectic, with lots of relatives visiting and interrogating you about your career plans, and the days afterward were spent attending parties and saying goodbye to friends who were scattering to far-flung places. After you had finished the last of your university-related errands like returning a few library books and picking up your official transcript, there wasn't much left to do except putter around your apartment and take a few days off before beginning a job search. Those student loans weren't going to pay themselves off.

You found Ginger's card in your purse on Wednesday morning and put it on the fridge with a magnet. On Thursday you were so hungover you didn't want to make any calls. On Friday you found yourself at loose ends with nothing planned, so you picked up the phone and dialed. When you reached the switchboard you gave your name and asked for Ginger, and they put you right through. She picked up after one ring, as if she had been waiting for your call.

"Hi! I'm so glad you called me! Can you come by today?" Ginger sounded genuinely excited to talk to you, not smarmy or fake like other corporate recruiters you had spoken with.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, yes, thank you. Are you sure today's okay? I can come next week if that's better."

"No! Please come whenever you're ready. I'm really hoping you'll like what you see."

"Okay, will I need to dress up? Will I be meeting with anyone for an interview? Should I bring copies of my resume?" You wanted to make a good impression, but you weren't sure if this was just something the distillery did casually, like a winery tour, or if you would need to be ready for a formal interview.

"Nope! Just bring yourself! We already know everything we need to know about your qualifications."

"Ah... okay. I'm all yours. I'll see you in about an hour?"

"Perfect! I'll leave your name at the front gate with the guard. Just show them your ID and they'll wave you through."

You said your goodbyes and put the phone down. What kind of data analysis job was even available at a distillery? Market trends? Did they need a criminal justice major for tracking down rip-offs, like people counterfeiting their product? But wait, didn't the government do that kind of thing? The ATF? You shook your head clear of questions and hopped in the shower. You could ask Ginger all of your questions, since she seemed to be so happy to talk with you.

When you arrived at the Statesman Distillery an hour later, you were impressed at the size of the facility. Distilleries were pretty common in the state of Kentucky, with lots of little family companies sprinkled around. But Statesman rivaled the big names for sheer square footage.

Ginger met you in a conference room and offered you coffee, and then asked you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You didn't think twice about it. NDAs were common in lots of industries, and you guessed that it had something to do with trade secrets, Statesman not wanting to leak information about their whiskey production details. When Ginger began the tour and you walked down a long hallway with multiple sparkling white laboratories behind thick glass, you found it unusual, but not alarming. Cleanrooms, maybe? Something to do with alcohol distillation formulas, probably.

When she ushered you into a large wood-paneled office and introduced you to Champ, the head of Statesman, you thought it was odd. Companies didn't normally introduce new college graduates to executives during tours. Based on the size of the organization, you thought you might meet the CEO or President once or twice a year, maybe at a holiday party or a company retreat. But he was friendly, and he seemed to have already heard of you; his eyebrows raised an inch at Ginger when she gave him your name. He also seemed far more interested in criminal justice and data analysis than you expected for a distillery executive, but you shook hands and answered all of his questions politely.

When Ginger asked you to step into an elevator and it dropped 10 floors, you started to wonder a little. When the doors opened and she walked you to a room with a huge bank of monitors, with screens showing all kinds of maps and security video feeds, you were downright confused. But when she revealed the cherry on top, the fact that Statesman was not in the business you thought they were? That was too shocking. You were sure she was joking. You turned behind you to look for hidden cameras, expecting a prank show host to come jumping out at you.

"This is a joke, right?"

Ginger smiled that sweet, warm smile at you. "No joke. We want you to join the Research Unit, working in the Data Analysis section. You would be keeping our agents safe, helping them make the best decisions possible. And in turn your work could save lives, hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. What do you say?"

"I... uh... I still think you’re joking. I’ve never heard of anything like this. I… are you sure you want me?"

"Yes, if you're interested. We could use you on the team." She pushed a little slip of paper into your hand, and when you saw the annual salary that was listed, you almost fainted.

"Ginger, this is way too much. I just graduated and this is, like... this is a senior analyst's salary. I'd be able to pay off my student loans in like three years!"

"Actually, we would be paying your student loans off before you start work. If you have financial burdens hanging over your head you could be vulnerable to bribes or extortion attempts from foreign governments or bad actors. We want you clear before you start with us. Think of it as a signing bonus."

"Holy shit! Sorry, I mean... I... Jesus." You looked at her in confusion. "Y'all really want me?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, we really do."

"Okay, when do I start?"

And that had been it, your first "big girl" job out of college. You were welcomed warmly to the Statesman team, and you loved the fact that you did interesting work that had a real impact. The hardest part had been telling your friends and family the required cover story, saying you were doing market analysis until you could find a job in criminal justice somewhere. But since you were happy with your new job and it paid well, none of them pressured you to move on.

During your first two years with Statesman you climbed the ranks, earning promotions and new responsibilities that eventually put you in the seat of Assistant Director of Data Analysis. You had risen high enough in Statesman that your work required a code name, and you chose “Paloma,” a nod to your favorite grapefruit cocktail. You answered directly to the head of the Research Unit, and every report that your team produced was vital. You weren't wasting your talent in some corporate hole, enriching the CEO's salary at the expense of your sanity. You were saving lives, making a difference. Your reports had even been sent to the New York headquarters, where they used them as a model for operations.

And the job had brought you romance, too. One day not long after your promotion to Assistant Director, you were walking out of the conference room, so focused on your phone that you didn't see where you were going. You bumped into something large and solid in a denim shirt, and a pair of warm, calloused hands held your shoulders to steady you. You cursed softly to yourself and then looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes that you had ever seen. A man with patchy stubble and a well-worn baseball cap smiled at you, eyes crinkling with warmth.

"Whoa! Are you okay?" His eyes looked concerned as they searched your face. You looked at him with wonder. He was so, so beautiful. The smile dropped, and then his brows knitted together into a slight frown. "I said, are you okay?"

You realized you were staring with your mouth half open like some lovestruck teenager, and that an embarrassing amount of time had passed since you first met his eyes.

"Yes!" Your voice was louder than you intended. "Yes, I'm sorry. Sorry I bumped into you. I should have watched where I was going. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Did I hurt you?"

"Ah, no. No, I'm fine. Sorry. Just distracted today."

"That's okay. Sorry I startled you." He smiled again and squeezed your upper arm.

You could have stayed there forever, leaning into his touch. He let go, much to your chagrin, and then went into the conference room. You made a note to ask someone who he was, to see if you could find out more about him. He wasn't being escorted by a staff member, so he was obviously part of the Statesman organization somehow. Someone would know who he was.

You went into the ladies room, running into Ginger at the sinks. "Oh, Paloma! I'm so glad I saw you. I need to steal your boss for an urgent matter. Can you run his 11:00 meeting in the conference room? I know it's last minute, but I'll buy you lunch later."

Your brain flickered out for a nanosecond. The 11:00 meeting? The conference room? The handsome man? You recovered your composure and smiled at Ginger. "Yeah, no problem at all. Tell him to drop his notes off in the conference room and I'll be there in just a moment."

Ginger smiled and punched your shoulder softly. "Thanks, Pal. I owe you one."

You washed your hands in a trance. Oh lord, this was going to be interesting. You squared your shoulders and met your own eyes in the mirror. You looked exactly like you had this morning, just your normal self. Most of the time that was fine, but right now you wanted to be more glamorous, more devastating. You wanted to absolutely bewitch the handsome mystery man in the meeting. In the absence of some kind of last-minute emergency Hollywood makeup team, you would have to settle for a fresh application of lip balm and a quick scrub of your teeth with a damp paper towel. You flicked a stray eyebrow hair into place, sighed, and headed back to the conference room. Looks weren't important anyway, right? Statesman had hired you for your brain, not your face. And really, you were more interested in showing your boss that you could do well in your new role. So you banished your insecurities from your mind and breezed into the meeting.

"Good morning everyone." You studiously chose not to look at the handsome man you had run into, keeping your eyes on your notes for the time being. You were afraid that if you looked at him you wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away. "The Director has been called away for an urgent matter, so I'll be leading today’s operational planning meeting. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Paloma."

You risked a glance at the handsome stranger, relieved to see that his eyes were on his notepad and not on you. You let out a breath and found your stride, walking the group through the team's findings, the data, the implications, and the desired outcome for the mission. Agent Tequila asked a few cocky, half-assed questions, probing you for weaknesses. Normally that would have irritated you, but today it was a welcome focus that took your mind off the butterflies. You knocked Tequila back in place with a few well-chosen words, and then opened up the floor for questions.

The handsome man raised his hand, and your eyes fixed on how large and thick his fingers were. Oh God, this was torture. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Catfish. Um, can you tell me more about the extraction plan?"

"Yes, absolutely." You went over that phase of the mission, giving all the details your team had gathered about the terrain and the timing. When you were done, Catfish smiled at you, and your knees went weak at the sight of the dimple that appeared. No one else had questions, so you closed the meeting and stood to leave.

Suddenly there was a warm wall of denim at your elbow. "Hey, that was really detailed information. Thank you so much for walking me through everything."

You turned and smiled. "You're welcome. Glad I could help." You fumbled for something to say, trying to extend the conversation and keep him in your orbit for however long you could while everyone else filed out of the room.

"So, um, you go by 'Catfish.' Can I ask why? That's your code name, right? There's not some kind of hidden tragedy where that's the name your parents actually wrote on your birth certificate?"

He chuckled, throwing his head back. The expanse of his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple did nothing to improve the butterflies. They only fluttered harder, rising higher in your chest.

"It's an old Army nickname, I was Special Forces about a million years ago. Now I'm here on the transport team. I'm a helicopter pilot. When we're not working you can just call me Frankie."

"Ah." You bit your lip and nodded. Why couldn't you think of something else to say? Fortunately, Frankie continued the conversation.

"And you're Paloma around here? I love that drink. Am I allowed to know your real name, or is that classified?"

You grinned and shook his hand, giving him your name. When it rolled off his lips in that deep voice it sounded like heaven to you. You didn't want anyone else to say your name ever again. Just him.

He leaned closer, like he was sharing a secret. “Can I ask you a question? Top secret.” He winked, and you nodded.

“Can I take you to lunch?”

Your heart dropped into your pelvis, and you gulped, hard. “Y-yes. Yes, that would be great. I’d love to.”

---

When Ginger found you in your office at 2:00 p.m. you were staring off into space, smiling blissfully.

“Hey, Paloma. Why did you blow me off for lunch? I came by at 12:30, I was going to take you out.”

“Oh! Oh my god, Ginger, I’m so sorry! I had a date.”

She raised her eyebrows at you, settling down in one of your visitors chairs. “A date?”

“No! Not a date. A, um…” You burst into husky giggles, and then confessed everything to her: the handsome man, the crinkles around his eyes, his dimples and his silly code name, the easy conversation over lunch, and the fact that he had scribbled his phone number down on a sticky note that was now burning a hole in your pocket. You felt like you were 12 again, confiding in your girlfriend about crushes and cute boys.

Ginger laughed and gave your hand a squeeze. “No wonder you forgot about me. I can’t compete with a handsome helicopter pilot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ginger. I really didn’t mean to forget.”

“No, it’s okay. But definitely call him this weekend and make a real date. I’ll want details when you take me out for an apology lunch on Monday.” She winked and left your office.

You sat back in your chair and tilted back to look at the ceiling while you considered it. Was it too soon to call him and make a date? Ugh, this was agony. You decided that going by conventional rules hadn’t really mattered to you at any point in your life until now, so why the hell not?

You took a deep breath, trying to puff up your confidence. When he answered the phone on the second ring, you dove right in. “Hi, Catfish? It’s Paloma. Listen, I had a really good time at lunch, and I’d like to see you this weekend if you’re free.”

---

On Monday, you had a whole lot to report to Ginger.

Frankie took you up for a sightseeing flight on your date, and you loved the way he controlled everything; making sure he warned you before any sudden movements, and checking that you weren’t getting airsick or anxious. When the rotors were stilled and you were back on the ground, Frankie reached over to help you unbuckle your harness. Something got stuck, and the agonizing extra seconds of feeling him jostle the strap near your hip made you bold. When it was finally free and he was about to pull his hand away, you grabbed his wrist. He looked at you, alarmed that something was wrong, and you crashed your lips against his, all teeth and tongue and wanting. Frankie was as good a kisser as he was a pilot, and you spent the rest of the date making out in his truck.

The next weekend, you found out that his warm, work-worn hands were also magic in the bedroom. Frankie was adept at tweaking your sensitive spots as gently as the little buttons and switches of the flight panel, bringing you to thrumming heights the same way he did his helicopter.

The rest of the summer passed in heady, humid days and nights like a dream. You loved Frankie’s easy sense of humor and his confidence in the cockpit. But Frankie was less confident about your relationship, voicing concerns about the decade-plus that separated your ages, and whether he was keeping you from dating men your own age. He made self-deprecating comments about being an “old man,” and you reassured him that there was no one you’d rather be with, no one who could sway your attention. You loved using your hands and arms and lips and tongue to reassure him, finding that he had his own sensitive spots that you could manipulate. You loved sending him to sleep with a smile on his face.

But as much as you and Frankie enjoyed the relationship, the nature of his work with the transportation team meant that he was never in town for very long. At the same time, your job was getting more complex, requiring late nights at the office that interfered with your time together. You refused to dwell too much on the fact that you were torn, that you loved your work as equally as you wanted to spend those nights with Frankie.

By the end of the summer, you both came to the realization that it was nobody’s fault, simply a case of poor circumstances, and you decided to end things and remain friends. In October Frankie left Statesman to take a job that relocated him to Florida. You were wistful, and you missed him, but at least it had been an amicable split. At least friends was something. And as sometimes happens even with the best of intentions, the time in between each phone call grew longer, and you eventually lost touch. Last you heard he was spending weekends with his old Army buddies who all lived nearby, and he had a new girlfriend. By February the ache was starting to subside, and by April you were nearly ready to date again.

In May, almost three years to the day after Ginger’s visit to your apartment had changed your life, you were offered the position to lead the Data Analysis team in New York. You jumped at the chance. Statesman located an apartment for you, and from the pictures you were already in love with it. Huge windows looked out over the city, and it was within walking distance of Statesman HQ. Your farewell party was bittersweet. Ginger offered to come visit you, and promised that New York would be everything you hoped it would be. Your team gave you such high praises that you joked that if that’s what it took to hear accolades, you would have left ages ago.

---

Your first few days in New York were spent acclimating to the Statesman HQ, and getting to know your neighborhood. It was strange to find that you could walk or take the subway for whatever you needed, compared to the Midwest where a car was required for everything. Your new team was welcoming, and you enjoyed your new duties immensely. Your first two weeks on the job passed in no time, and you went home every night feeling like you could fly.

And then you hit a wall, in the form of Jack Daniels, a.k.a. “Senior Agent Whiskey.” You knew him by reputation, of course. Ginger had filled you in on his exploits, his overbearing charm, his smarmy flirtations. You had seen him once or twice in passing when he had visited Champ’s office, but you hadn’t actually met him in person.

When you finally did, you almost asked for an immediate transfer back to Louisville. --- "Paloma" Series Masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

Tag list: @honeymandos @driedgreentomatoes @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @honestly-shite @anaaaispunk @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @dihra-vesa @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @anxiousandboujee

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #Statesman!Frankie Morales #Statesman!Frankie Morales x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels

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pilothusband · 3 years

Text

A lit torch to the woodpile high (part 2)

A Paz VIzsla Bartender!AU

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, pining, some vague descriptions of wanting to be plowed, vague threats of violence

Word count: 2.7k

Description: More pining ensues, we see a lil skin (@softdin 👀), something eerie happens, two idiots who don’t know how the other feels.

Author’s note: Let me know what you think!! Please go here to be added to the taglist!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

The next few weeks passed by without incident. You still hadn’t seen Orso since he initially hired you on, which was kind of strange, but you figured it was because he was busy and had other ventures he had to keep an eye on.

So far your favorite part of working at Bear’s Den was working with Harlow. When it was slow you would pass the time chatting and getting to know each other better. You found out that Harlow was in the middle of getting her Master’s in Business Administration at the local school. She wanted to open her own bakery someday and worked at the pub to help pay for her degree.

Dillon was a little more frustrating to work with. In other words, he was lazy and he tried flirting with you (and every other woman around his age) every chance he got. It was harmless, but after a while you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him.

Paz was almost always at the bar, but it seemed like he was busy most of the time. In fact, he had barely said a word to anyone all day, other than grunting a short “hello” as he stormed in.

“What crawled up his butt?” Dillon asked after he had slammed the office door. You and Harlow looked at him and shrugged. He seemed pretty surly in general, from what you could tell, but this was a whole new level, even for him.

A little while later, some customers had trickled in and there was a low hum of conversation around the bar. You were wiping down some glasses that had come out of the dishwasher. The damn thing never dried the glasses completely, and Donny never dried them himself before carting them out to you.

Harlow came out from the back, coat and purse in hand. You instantly deflated, realizing she was heading home for the day.

“I thought you were closing up with me tonight?”

“I was going to, but Paz switched with me. Said something about a meeting he had later on anyways,” she said, applying chapstick.

Oh, just great.

“Don’t worry,” she said, almost like she could read your mind. “I’m sure he’ll be less grumpy once Madge brings him some food from the kitchen later,” she laughed.

“Yeah, he could use a Snickers or two.” You both dissolved into giggles.

It was as if Paz’s ears were ringing. As soon as you had made the comment, he stepped out of the office. He still looked pretty angry, so you figured whatever was bothering him hadn’t gotten any better. Harlow could sense his mood and all but ran out the door, throwing a quick goodbye behind her shoulder.

You waved after her, distracted for a moment. That’s when you heard your name being called, rather impatiently. You whipped back around and walked over, not wanting to sour his mood any further.

“Sorry about that, what’s up?” You asked, looking up to make eye contact.

Big mistake. You could feel your stomach clench up with desire as soon as his eyes met yours. You could have sworn you saw his expression change momentarily, but as quickly as it appeared, he blinked and it was gone.

“I have a meeting later today. If you see a couple guys wearing matching white coats walk in and I’m not out front with you, come out back and get me. Don’t talk to them.”

You bit your lip and nodded. Paz’s gaze followed the movement and he swallowed heavily. You didn’t catch yourself watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down until he cleared his throat.

“Remember. Don’t talk to them.”

“Roger,” you said, turning on your heel to get back to the bar.

You had no idea how to feel about that interaction. He either didn’t trust you enough to talk to some important business associates, or something else was going on. You felt a little uneasy, but chalked it up to Paz’s fowl mood.

Was Paz involved with some bad people? Did this have anything to do with Orso not showing up to the bar for weeks? More customers were trickling in, distracting you from all the wild conspiracies your brain was coming up with.

Orso and Paz were in a secret society and were plotting to steal an important government document. Orso and Paz secretly swapped faces and were living each other’s lives.

You really needed to stop watching Nicolas Cage films before bed every night.

After a while, Paz came out of the office to tend the bar with you. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but it was almost hypnotizing to watch him pour drinks. He knew the layout of the bar like it was the back of his hand. There was no hesitation to look for the correct liquor types when a customer ordered a cocktail that required a vintage bourbon. He didn’t struggle to remember which spout to use for cranberry juice vs. orange juice (like you did).

There was a point in the night where he was serving 5 customers at the same time, when you struggled to juggle just two of them. It was almost embarrassing, to be honest.

You heard a woman’s voice in your peripheral, snapping you out of a detailed and vivid daydream where Paz bent you over the bar to have his way with you.

“Excuse me, can I get a glass of Merlot?” She was probably in her mid-50s, wearing a slinky black dress that looked stellar on her, with leopard print heels. Basically, you wanted to be this woman when you got older.

“Of course,” you said, turning to the shelf.

Before you could even ask for Paz’s help, you heard him in your ear.

“Red wine?”

You had to suppress a pleasant shiver.

“Yes, please. The Merlot,” you looked over, giving him a sheepish grin. His face was still close to yours, you could see the flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes.

You stepped back, allowing him room to get to the shelf, and tried not to drool as he reached up towards the shelf, his shirt riding up his back with the movement. Time seemed to stop as you caught a flash of skin, toned and smooth.

“Here you go,” he said, handing the bottle over to you. “We’ll keep it over by the register in case she wants another glass.”

You nodded, your mouth too dry to come up with words. Once the bottle was opened and the glass filled up, you handed it to the woman as she handed you her credit card.

She gave you a wide-eyed look as you accepted her card.

“That man is an occupational hazard,” she said, taking a big gulp from her glass.

You laughed, but didn’t say anything in response.

“Do you want me to open a tab for you?”

“Yes, I think I’ll stick around for a while,” she said wiggling her eyebrows.

Later on that night, it was about 15 minutes past closing time and all of the customers, as well as your bouncer Rick, had long left for the night.

Paz had gone out back to count the till and you were organizing the liquor bottles when two men entered through the front door, which was strange because you could have sworn you had locked it.

They were wearing long, cream colored trench coats with some sort of emblem on the front pocket. It looked like a cog with six spokes. Something about it made your blood run cold. You had every intention of running out back to tell Paz they were here, but something about these men had you frozen in fear.

They weren’t like any men you had seen before, with short, cropped hair that was slicked back and eyes as gaunt as their thin faces.

Good evening,” the taller man said as he reached the bar. He gave you a smile, trying to appear amiable.

“Um, hi. Paz is out back, I can go get him for you,” Paz was going to lose his shit when he found out you talked to them.

“We’re looking for Orso Van, actually. Do you know where he is?”

“I haven’t seen him for weeks. I can go get Pa–”

“I don’t want to speak with his whipping boy,” he interrupted, his tone growing cold. “I want to speak to Orso. Now.”

You were grateful at Paz’s immaculate timing as the back door swung open.

Paz looked more formidable than ever. He seemed to grow even taller, if that was even possible.

“As I told you last week, Dax, no one’s seen him in weeks.”

The silent man who was not Dax scoffed.

Paz continued, “and I thought I told you never to speak to my staff.”

Dax gave Paz a sickly, unnatural smile. It didn’t look like it belonged on his face. “I figured she might know something, seeing as she showed up right as Orso disappeared.”

You felt as if your entire body had been plunged into ice cold water. A deep, dreadful feeling took over the pit of your stomach.

These men have been watching us.

“Leave her out of this, she has nothing to do with any of it.”

He stalked towards the men threateningly.

“Now, if you want to talk to me, we can go ahead and talk in the office. Otherwise, get the fuck out of my bar.”

The other man scoffed again and nodded towards Dax.

“Come on, let’s go. We’ll be back next week to check on Orso’s whereabouts. If he doesn’t show his face soon, you know what will happen.”

They turned, their pristine white coats whipping behind them. The door swung shut with a bang.

You could only gape after them, so many questions spinning through your head. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answers to any of them.

“I’m going to drive you home tonight,” his tone left no room for argument. You weren’t about to object anyways. Even if you had to endure a tense car ride, you were a hell of a lot safer with him than by yourself.

You both locked up as quickly as possible and made your way to his truck, slamming the doors shut harder than necessary.

The air was thick as a blanket, filled with so many unanswered questions. If you weren’t so rattled from earlier, you would have realized this was the closest you had ever been to Paz.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about back there?” You asked, already knowing his answer.

“No.”

“If I’m in danger, I want to know why,” you told him, voice trembling. Your pulse was going a mile a minute.

“The less you know, the safer you are,” he said. His tone was still final, but not nearly as hard as you were expecting.

He looked over at you. All you could do was stare back at him, mouth agape. His face was half bathed in the moonlight, painting his face in a pale blue light that contrasted with the dark that surrounded you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He said quietly.

You felt like your lungs couldn’t get enough air, as if the wind had been knocked out of you.

“Okay,” was all you said back. You weren’t sure if Paz even wanted to be here with you right now, but you trusted him.

He regarded you for a moment, seemingly trying to read your expression that gave way to any trepidations you had. You looked back at him, having every intention to tell him you trusted him, but the words died in your throat when you saw his expression. He looked so open, so raw.

You let yourself bask in this moment, in the dark cab of his truck. There wasn’t an opportunity before now to just look at him freely. He had a scar below his right eye, and his nose was just a little crooked. You wondered if it was from getting in fights. You wondered what, or who, he had fought for.

He was quite beautiful, in a hard, unrelenting kind of way. You wanted to find out why he had built a thick wall around himself. You wanted to trace the lines of his jaw and feel the contours of his lips.

His lips. Your eyes were laser-focused as his tongue came out to wet them. You found yourself thinking about what it would be like to taste them, to chase his tongue with yours.

He let out a shaky breath, snapping you back into the reality of the moment. You looked away, staring out the windshield, still watching his movements in the corner of your eye.

“We should go,” you wanted to flinch at the anxious edge to your voice.

Paz looked down at his lap and nodded.

“I’ll need you to navigate.”

You were grateful that Paz had stuffed a wad of cash in your hand last night before he dropped you off at your front door, mentioning to use it to Uber to work the next day. That meant you didn’t have to rush getting ready this morning to catch the bus to work, since you had left your car there.

It only took one tense night of locking your doors and windows, double checking the locks, drawing up your curtains and checking the locks again, followed by tossing and turning for hours on end only to fall asleep an hour before your alarm went off. It only took that one night for you to overthink everything.

It’s not that you were thinking about the creepy men that came in after closing. You had spent enough time to fret about that while you were trying to force your amped up body to relax last night.

This morning was spent overthinking every single interaction you ever had with Paz. He already had so much weight on his shoulders, running a business while his boss was off doing fuck knows what, while some seedy men were breathing down his back and basically stalking him at work.

Why should you add yourself to that list of responsibilities?

You had every intention to say good morning to him when you first saw him. He was walking out from the office, looking just about as exhausted as you were. You must have looked like a deer in headlights, because his eyebrows were raised in question, his head cocked to the side.

“I um, I was just going to the kitchen,” you said in an almost robotic voice.

You hightailed it out of the room before you could see the expression on his face.

Your heart was still pounding as you burst through the kitchen doors. This crush on your boss was really getting out of hand, and it only got worse after being in such close proximity last night. God, you probably looked ridiculous right now.

“What’s got you bursting in here like a bat out of hell?” You almost jumped out of your skin. Had Madge been next to you this whole time?

“I um, need coffee?” You said, accidentally wording it as a question. “If you have any extra, that is,” you added quickly.

Madge smirked, seeing right through your lie, but she didn’t question it.

“Just brewed a fresh pot. Knock yourself out.”

A little while later while you were back out front, stacking glasses between sips of coffee, you saw a plate slide into your peripheral.

“You look like you need this,” Madge winked. You looked down, mouth watering at the large pile of french fries.

“You’re a fucking saint, Madge.” You deadpanned. She cackled all the way back to the kitchen, throwing you another wink.

You didn’t see Paz much that day, and you were kind of grateful for it. Every time he entered the room you found some way to keep yourself busy to avoid his gaze.

He could probably tell you were being extra squirrely. Hell, everyone could tell.

Donny had taken you aside earlier and offered to let you take a hit of his cousin’s homegrown, to which you politely declined. Dillon remarked on how tense you looked and offered to massage your shoulders, to which you told him to fuck off.

Harlow didn’t say much, but she looked concerned. You pretended not to notice the sideways glances she was giving you.

A little while later, you were hunched over the bar, in the middle of writing out a supply order when you heard a throat clear from above you. It was a distinctly male sound. You almost dropped the pen in surprise when you looked up and saw Paz was standing before you, arm resting just a few inches from where yours was resting on the counter.

“I um,” Paz trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to see how you– how things are going out here.”

He sounded unsure of himself. He was standing a little less tall today, with his shoulder slumped over. Weary to the bone.

“I’m great, so good,” you babbled. “Nothing going on with me. Feeling peachy.”

“Uh, cool, yeah. Okay, I’ve got to uh...” he removed his hand from his neck and gestured towards the office before making his exit.

You collapsed, letting your head hit the bar with a thump. God, you hoped no one saw that go down.

“So, what the fuck was that?” Harlow said, walking over.

You sighed dramatically, your entire body feeling like it was being held down by bags of sand.

You lifted your head up a little, giving Harlow the most pathetic look you could muster.

“It was nothing,” you told her. You stood back up fully and busied yourself with organizing the coasters on the bar, hoping she would let it go.

“That didn’t look like nothing,” she said, trying to hide a smug smile.

You had two choices here. Tell Harlow about the sketchy men from last night, which was not an option, or tell her about the pathetic crush you were harboring for your boss.

You turned around to make sure no one else was around. Thankfully, Dillon was on his lunch break, Paz was holed up in the office, and Donny and Madge were both in the kitchen.

“Please don’t tell anyone–” you started, but were interrupted with a squeal.

“Harlow, shhhh!” You admonished her, desperately trying to reach out to her to clap a hand over her mouth to no avail. She danced away, wiggling like a toddler at a birthday party.

“You guys are totally fucking,” she whispered, her brown eyes wide as saucers.

“I– what? No we aren’t.”

“Come on,” she scoffed. “I saw that little trainwreck of an interaction back there.”

“No, really, we aren’t,” you told her, and added with a whisper, “though, I kind of wish we were.”

“Well,” she said, chewing on her lip in thought. “Judging by the way Paz was bodysnatched back there, he’s in the same boat.”

You rolled your eyes. No, that was absolutely because of the threatening men from last night. He just felt guilty you were now in the middle of all of it.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, missy,” she admonished, good-naturedly. “He totally looked scared shitless back there. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You frowned in thought. He must be really freaked out by those men. You felt bad that you hadn’t noticed.

“No, I think it’s just a big misunderstanding,” you told her. “I think he thought he offended me last night because I was in a bad mood.” You were kind of impressed with the lies pouring out of your mouth at the moment. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Okay then,” Harlow said, smirking at you.

You charged towards the office and barged in before you could talk yourself out of it. It was Paz’s turn to look like a deer caught in headlights.

This was the first good look you had at him all day. The scruff on his chin was longer than usual. His eyes, despite being open wide in surprise, had dark shadows under them.

“I’m sorry, I should have knocked,” you said, turning to leave.

“Wait–” Paz reached out, grabbing your shoulder. He let go almost immediately, as if the touch burned him. “Come in.”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing after last night. I didn’t ask you how you were doing and I– I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me all day? Because you feel bad for not asking me how I’m doing?”

You blanched. Yeah, you felt bad but that definitely wasn’t why you were avoiding him.

“I guess, yeah,” you said, huffing out a laugh.

“I wish I could tell you more, I really do.” Paz said, sitting on the edge of the desk. It immediately groaned in protest, so he stood back up. “I don’t want any of the staff here getting involved with Orso’s bullshit. The less you all know the better.”

You nodded in understanding. You really did understand it. But something nagged at you.

“But what about you?” You asked him. “You’ve already been dragged into it.”

The sad, fleeting look on his face was devastating. You could tell he wasn’t used to others worrying about him. He must have caught himself, because his expression hardened in resolve a moment later.

“I can take care of myself,” he said. “I’m working on getting a hold of Orso. Once he’s back they’ll leave us alone.”

You weren’t sure if you believed him, but you let it drop for the time being. You would just need to keep an eye on him in your own way.

“You should get going,” Paz said, changing the subject. “Your shift was over 10 minutes ago and I’m sure you need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I really do,” you said, giving him a tender smile. “Make sure you get some sleep tonight too.”

“I’ll try,” he said, his smile matching the one on your face.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @maybege @recklessworry @cannedsoupsucks @pocket-pudding @simping-for-clones @gallowsjoker @idiotonastar @seratoninforyouseratoninforme @devanthus @legally-a-bastard @my-awakened-ghost

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla au #bartender!paz

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writersrealmbts · 3 years

Text

If You Have Half a Brain

Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo! For the Pina Coladas prompt. You’ve been a bit down on your luck, until one of your customers, who is definitely drunk, strikes up a conversation with you and offers you a job.

Warnings: Mentions of death, drunken antics (mild), mild language, mentions of blood/injuries (very briefly)

Posted: 06/04/2021

Tags: Hoseok x reader, business au,

Slice of Life/Angst/moments of fluff: 11,698 words

A/N: I think it’s been over a month since I posted a story, so here’s over 10k words. Enjoy! Thanks to @kerikaaria for beta reading this

“Sir, you ordered a virgin.”

“Whoa, no! I didn’t even know that this was that kind of place, I mean, kudos on the confidence and I mean that in the best way because you shouldn’t be ashamed—“

“Your drink,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. “It’s non-alcoholic. You ordered a virgin drink.”

“What? No I didn’t, I ordered a pina colada!”

“No, our menu doesn’t offer pina coladas. What you ordered was our Niño colada, which is from our non-alcoholic menu. I apologize for any inconvenience, but if this is you with a little bit of alcohol, then I think you should stick to sobriety.”

He stared at you, slack-jawed and blinking. “Why don’t you have pina coladas?”

You sighed. “We don’t stock rum.”

He made a choked sound. “The…rum…is gone?”

“Yes. The rum is gone.” You had a sinking feeling that you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Why is the rum always gone?!” He exclaimed, flopping onto the table.

“From your behavior, I’m going to assume you’ve consumed every last drop of it, Captain Sparrow,” You replied dryly. Well, your boss was right. You were not cut out for this job. “Now, if you’re not going to order something else, I’m going to go turn in my apron and start job hunting again.”

“Wait! Wait! Do you like piña coladas?” He asked, catching the pocket of your apron.

“I swear to God, if the next words out of your mouth are anything along the lines of ‘and getting caught in the rain’ I will murder you without regret.”

His teeth clicked shut. His eyes darted over your face. “But do you?”

You took a deep breath. “I can’t stand coconut.”

“You…don’t like…coconut?” He looked horrified. “Then…coconut chicken?”

“Ew.”

“Coconut ice cream?”

“Waste of sugar and time, a lot like this conversation. I don’t like coconut. I hate it when people cook in coconut oil because saying it’s tasteless is Bull.” You crossed your arms. “New drink or what?”

He stared at you for a while, then smiled softly. “You’re too good for this job, anyway. You should work for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come work for me.”

“Repeating that doesn’t tell me what you’re saying.”

“I own a company. I need someone who can deal with trash like me and keep them away from me. You do not have to be polite to the trash either.” He leaned his chin on a propped-up fist. “Your job would quite honestly be saying what was on your mind and telling me and anyone else off.” He looked and sounded surprisingly sober compared to before.

“Please tell me you didn’t use piña coladas to test a potential hire.”

He grinned. “Not intentionally.”

I folded your arms, trying to gauge whether or not he was being serious. “You’re not saying this because you’re drunk, are you?”

“I’m not drunk!” He argued, eyes wide. “I’ve only had one glass of wine!”

You cringed. “At least tell me it was a large one.”

“N-not particularly.”

“Oh dude, either your acting is pretty on point, or you’re a serious lightweight and should stick to the non-alcoholic menu.” You shook your head.

His already flushed cheeks turned more red. “Wha—“ he huffed. “Do you want the job or not?”

You considered it, a little surprised you were even considering it, and shrugged. “Not sure I believe you still.”

He huffed and fumbled to pull out his wallet, fumbled more, then handed you a business card. “That’s me. Call or show up or anything. My personal cards are like golden tickets.”

You took the card warily.

The side of the cards facing you had a phone number in shimmering gold lettering, and the other side looked like a splash of summer colors—Bold black lettering spelling out his name and the name of the company.

“Hoseok Jung, CEO of HopeWorld Incorporated,” you read aloud, a little…skeptical. “If you are this person, what the heck do you want me for?”

“Honestly…I need someone sensible who won’t just try to stay on my good side. I need someone who will risk their job to threaten anyone that is being ridiculous with murder. I’m bad at that. I need a spiky person cause I’m just…I have things I’m strong on, but there are times when I just need someone to say things like they are. No bull.”

“And based on our interactions here, you think that’s me?”

He nodded. “I only played up the antics a bit.”

“Do you often hire your waitresses?”

He grinned. “No, but I have found most of my best people by chance. One other waiter, but I knew him before.”

“Your best people?”

“You’ve heard of my company?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Then you’ve heard the names Suga, RM, and V.”

You paused. “Yes.”

“Suga and I met at a club. RM and I met in a museum, and I met V when I was at an animal shelter.” He shrugged. “We had a good rapport. I offered them jobs. My friends over there are also part of my inner circle. It would have been better if you liked piña coladas, but you should still be okay with them.”

You stared over to where his friends were goofing off in the pool. Those idiot men were part of the inner circle of one of the biggest companies ever? The company that….

Two screeched as they went into the water, losing the game of chicken.

“They are part of your brain trust? Is the one even old enough for alcohol?”

“Yeah, he just tends to pick people up when he’s buzzed.”

“So, scandal prone.”

“No, no, I mean physically lift them. Usually just us. He’s not really a social person. Just us.”

“Ah.” You weren’t sure what to make of that.

“Actually—“

“Y/n! I’m not paying you to stand around!”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m done after I finish discussing our menu with this gentleman, Sir.” You called back, then turned to Hoseok. “How much would I be paid?”

“To start...how about $16 an hour?”

You stared at him. “$16 an hour?”

“Plus benefits, we have an excellent benefits program.”

“$16 an hour?” You repeated, a little shocked and numb. Plus benefits, even if you only worked there for a week, you’d be able to cover all of your expenses.

“Alright, okay, fine, $18 an hour—but no more than that until we know if it will work out. Then we can discuss raises. Deal?” He stuck his hand out.

You considered it for a moment, then shook his hand. “Right. Okay. When do I start?”

“Tomorrow, 8 a.m.”

You nodded. “Business dress?”

He shrugged, “If you like. Just dress nicely.”

You nodded. “Fine. Okay. See you then. I have a job to quit.”

He nodded with a smile. “I look forward to working with you.”

———

If you had thought that your means of obtaining this job had been strange, nothing had prepared you for your first day working there.

You had dressed well, wearing your favorite interview outfit because it was the nicest outfit you owned and you would be shopping later today so you knew what you needed to buy.

You entered the sleek looking building, and went to the reception desk. “Hello, I was told to come in today.” You pulled out the business card and showed it to the secretary.

Her eyes widened. “Whoa. You met Mr. Jung?”

“Uhm, yes. Yes I did. And he told me to come in today, at eight.”

“Right, okay, um, let me get you a temporary I.D.so you can get around today, and you’ll have to talk to H.R. later about your permanent one. Take this, and then head up to the top floor, he’ll want you to report straight to his office. At least, that’s what protocol states.”

You nodded, absorbing the information easily. “Top floor, his office, report to HR later for a permanent ID. Return this at the end of the day?”

“Yes, thank you, and good luck on your first day!” She practically sang, going back to her computer.

You slid the ID necklace over your head and went straight for the elevator, hitting the button for the top floor.

The way she spoke was almost like she had never met the CEO, which seemed unlikely to you, but maybe you were just misreading it.

The top floor was as quiet as the rest of the building, and you had a feeling most employees didn’t start until 9. But there was faint music coming from the biggest office—the CEO’s office.

You took a breath to steady yourself and then knocked on the door.

“Come on in, y/n!”

You shook your head slightly and did as told, walking into the office.

Entering the building, you had been pleasantly surprised by the way everything seemed light and airy, with bright splashes of color in appropriate amounts in the appropriate places, making it feel less like an office and more of a...you weren’t sure what it felt like, but it felt nicer than an office.

Entering Hoseok Jung’s office had a similar effect. There were knickknacks, but they weren’t overwhelming, and splashes of color were all throughout the room, but was balanced by a sort of modern elegance of his sleek office furniture and the immense natural lighting.

“Do you like it?”

You considered it all. “It’s not to my taste, but it is well balanced and I can appreciate the aesthetic.”

He grinned. “See, you’re already doing better.”

“The receptionist acts like she’s never seen you before.”

“Oh, well, most people only see J-Hope, one of the senior workers who reports directly to Mr. Jung. That’s how I got into the business to take it over from my father.” He shrugged. “Eventually, they’ll find out that J-Hope is me, but for now, J-Hope is well-liked. My ‘brain trust’ as you called them, will be here in about half an hour, which gives us time. Come on, I’ll show you to your office. Remember, it’s not your job to make friends, it’s your job to call things as you see them.”

You shrugged. “And if that means holding my tongue?”

“Then I trust you to say something later, when you deem the time to be right.”

“You know this is crazy, right?”

He grinned. “I know that you think it’s crazy, but I’m glad you’re telling me.”

You shook your head as you followed him out, noting that he wasn’t wearing a full suit. More like slacks and a shirt that wasn’t a button-up, but also wasn’t a plain t-shirt? Very loose-fitting, possibly a few sizes too big. His slacks weren't even slack, not really. Just grey, loose-fitting pants.

“You don’t dress much like a CEO.”

He chuckled. “I know. Jimin tells me that all the time, trust me, I do when I have to. But J-Hope likes loose clothing.”

You shook your head a bit.

“This will be your office.”

“It’s right next to yours.”

“Well, you are going to be my left-hand person. Left hand office.”

You followed him into the office that was way too good to be true.

“Obviously you can decorate it as you like, outside of the desk. The desk chair you get to choose from a magazine that we use for office supplies. We also ask that you don’t break any walls or windows.”

“I have a balcony,” you breathed.

“Yeah. There’s actually a door out there that connects our balconies, my side is pretty much never locked, but you can lock your side as well.”

“Like in hotels.”

“Yes.”

“So, if I'm your left, who’s your right?”

“Suga. Yoongi. You’ll like him, I think.” He picked up a random sticky note, looking amused. “Last guy didn’t clean out very well, sorry.”

“Shouldn’t a janitor have made it in here since?”

He paused. “Oh. Yes.”

“Which makes me wonder when the last time anything up here has been cleaned.” You ran a finger over the desk, nose wrinkling in disgust at the dust on your fingers.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “Oh no. Oh no no no.”

“I need to wash my hands,” You said, feeling a little contaminated. “Bathrooms.”

“This way.”

The bathrooms on the top floor were actual bathrooms, as in, one toilet and sink per room instead of the public bathroom style. There were three of them, mostly the same size, but one also had a larger vanity area with drawers under it.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to follow you in, but this bathroom is one that we usually keep locked, so if you want to keep makeup or other things in here, no one uses the third drawer over right now.” He tapped it. “You’ll be getting a key to it later today, so you can put it in later if you need to.”

You nodded, wrinkling your nose at the smell of the soap. “Oh, you’re kidding me. Piña colada soap?”

He chuckled, scratching his neck. “You can also bring in your own soap. Yoongi does. He just hasn’t replaced his yet.”

You shook your head. “Right.”

“If it helps, it’s only that during the summer.”

“What is it in winter? Eggnog?”

He shook his head. “Cinnamon rolls.”

“Are you all trying to psychologically torture yourselves?” You asked, drying your hands. “Piña coladas when you have to work, cinnamon rolls to make yourself hungry….”

Hoseok shrugged.

You sighed. “Alright. Where to now?”

“Morning meeting.” He waved for you to follow him, and led the way down to a conference room. “Jimin and Tae bring coffee and pastries and we go over our agendas and projects. Today that will include introducing you. I do have one thing to ask, and it might be inappropriate so if it is you can just hit me—“

“Or you could just not ask it.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Right. Yeah.”

You helped straighten the chairs, seeing the frown on his face at how disheveled the room was. “So, what will I be doing today, besides accompanying you to fire the janitor.”

He cringed. “Well, tour the company. Stop by HR. Meet the security team. Talk to the janitorial staff and threaten firing them to improve their work ethic. Then if that doesn’t work, yes, you will be there to help me fire people.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be the bad guy. You keep your J-Hope persona.” You sighed. “Really? No one caught onto you being the CEO with the name J-Hope?”

He just grinned again. “Best disguise is right under your nose.”

“The best disguise is an effective one that actually exists.”

“I’m glad I met you,” He responded with a light laugh.

“I’ve been criticizing you since I arrived.” You actually felt guilty about that, but only slightly. You weren’t about to lose sleep over it.

He just smiled. “You’ve been honest. I…I really missed honesty.”

“Your inner circle aren’t honest?”

“They are…but they’re…it’s different. Sometimes you need to shake things up. I think we all need shaking up.”

You frowned. “Okay. Level with me: what happened?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What happened to make you think that things need to be shaken up?”

His face relaxed, eyes seeming to glaze as they shifted to the meeting table. “I…uh, I lost someone I cared about. You know that cruise ship disaster?”

You nodded. “HopeWorld donated a whole lot of money to cover the bills of those injured, and help cover funeral bills for others. Some people wondered if you guys had some sort of stock in the cruise ship or had been involved in the explosion, but you were just being kind. Plus by helping them out financially they could stand up to the cruise company.”

He shrugged, but also nodded. “And I needed a reason to be there. Looking.”

“Girlfriend or boyfriend?”

He choked out a laugh. “Yeah. And my sister and her husband. And my parents. I was supposed to join them at a different port.”

You felt like you’d been sucker-punched. “Oh my God.”

“Didn’t lose all of them. My dad is still in the hospital, Mom is home but she visits him everyday.” He rubbed his neck. “My sister's husband went back to work just a week ago, and he’s not having an easy time of it, but he’s pushing on. My sister hasn’t woken up yet, but we’re still hopeful. I hope she wakes up soon. She’s the other person I always relied on to be honest with me.”

You slowly nodded. “And your…significant other?”

“Idiot died. One of the lifeboats got stuck on release. Climbed out and cut the rope. Snapped back.” He shrugged again.

“Could have been worse,” You murmured, clenching a fist. You knew that description. You gave that description.

“Ok, this is one time when maybe you shouldn’t be honest.” He rubbed his forehead.

“Hey, my step-dad died because he thought he could swallow a golf ball and decided to try when no one was home. My younger brother tail-gated a semi. My father died from a sliver after saving eight school-age children.” You shrugged. “There are all sorts of ways to go out of this world. Doing the right thing…the heroic thing, that counts for a lot in my book. But there is such a thing as stupidly heroic.”

He stared at you wide-eyed. “A…golf ball?”

You shrugged. “I believe I implied that he wasn’t intelligent.”

Hoseok snorted and then started laughing. “I-I’m sorry!”

You smiled. “Good. Your brain trust will be here soon.”

“Did he…did he really…?”

“It was a little more complicated, and there was booze involved, but essentially, yes.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t sound so heartbroken.”

You shrugged. “Life goes on.”

“What does it go on from?” A new voice asked.

You turned to see one of the boys from the pool yesterday.

He looked you up and down, and offered a slight smile and his hand. “Hey. You must be the waitress that Hobi got so excited about hiring yesterday. I’m Taehyung, or, as the media knows me, V.”

You shook his hand. “Y/n. Nice to meet you.”

“Do you like Pina Coladas?” Taehyung asked, setting the box of what you assumed were pastries on the table.

“No.”

He froze a bit. “Really?”

“Really.”

“But...why? Wait...oh no...you don’t like them?” He stared at the box of pastries.

You looked at the box. “Let me guess, non-alcoholic pina colada donuts.”

“We don’t normally get them, I just saw them and I thought it’d be fun….” He looked completely dejected. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I ate breakfast anyway. I had an omelet, and I have a chocolate muffin in my packed lunch in my office. So, if you would like, I can get that and you can pretend you got it specially for me because I got it from the same shop.”

He gasped. “Their chocolate muffins are amazing.”

“Do you want me to pretend?”

He considered it a moment.

“He doesn’t want everyone to be eating and not you,” Hoseok chuckled. “He’s sweet like that.”

You nodded. “Did the door to my office get locked?”

Hoseok shook his head. “I left it open so that you could get in and out without your keys, and so we could send a janitor in after the meeting. Maybe put your things in our breakroom for now.”

You nodded sharply.

“I’ll get it, if that’s okay with you?” Taehyung said.

You shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat.”

He bounced a bit as he raced out.

“Good job, offering to lie on your first day.” Hoseok looked amused.

“He looked like a kicked puppy. I’m honest, not abusive and heartless. Besides, it’s more to make him feel good. Most people would figure it out, right away.”

Hoseok nodded. “I guess so.”

“It doesn’t breach my not-yet-existing contract to lie, does it?”

He shook his head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Both of you fell quiet as Taehyung came back and slipped the muffin into the box of donuts (carefully).

Then several men arrived at about the same time.

“Hi, y/n! I’m Jimin, and I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got you a chocolate crème frappuccino. Is that okay?”

You nodded, smiling. “Sounds good. Thank you.” You took the cup and studied where they were sitting before taking a seat yourself--at the left hand of Hoseok--when he indicated for you to sit there.

“For the future, what do you normally drink?”

“This,” You answered, smiling. “I try to limit my caffeine intake.”

“Great, I’ll add it to my list and we can discuss alternatives later.” Jimin opened the donut box. “Tae, what have you done?”

“Pina colada donuts,” Tae answered, grinning. “And a muffin for y/n.”

Half of the boys had already grabbed a donut, or were in the process of doing so, but all seemed to freeze a bit.

“Why a muffin for y/n?”

“I don’t like coconut,” You answered, shrugging.

“Wait...at all?” One of them asked, eyes wide.

You sighed. “Nope. That is possible, you know. Just like I’m sure the odds are in my favor that at least one of you doesn’t like seafood. One of you probably doesn’t like coffee, one of you probably doesn’t like tea, and a few of you probably don’t like mint ice-cream.”

They all seemed to be surprised and yet also guilty.

“Well….”

One huffed. “Why did you hire her again? She doesn’t even like pina coladas.”

“Not everyone does,” Hoseok replied easily. “Shall we start our morning download?”

You studied the others as they dug into their donuts, wondering where the odd obsession with pina coladas came from--not for the first time. But they weren’t the only people you’d ever met with the obsession, and you doubted they would be the last.

“Besides, it can’t hurt us to look at things other than pina coladas.”

“Please,” One of them grumbled. “I don’t want to get sick of them.”

“Fine. Then let me ask this,” the huffy one asked. “Y/n, what is your beverage of choice?”

You met his gaze evenly, calculating all of the answers he could expect and all of the answers you could give him. But one stuck out as particularly perturbing for someone like him and a situation like this.

You leaned forward, smiled slightly, and answered, “Water.”

His eyes widened and he spluttered. “Water?”

“Water,” You confirmed cheerfully. “If I have to choose anything, I choose water.”

“Great, you can be the designated driver,” Taehyung joked, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Huffy sat down, looking like he lost five years off of his life. “No way can we do a water theme….”

“If we could get back to what we’re being paid to be here for, that’d be great,” You said, in a tone that was too sweet to be honest.

Hoseok chuckled a little. “Right. Y/n is here to keep things...possible and practical. Her job is to be bluntly and brutally honest about things. After she gets a feel for this place, I’m sure she’ll feel more comfortable giving us all a piece of her mind. She’ll be shadowing me as J-Hope, and I’m not going to announce her job title for a while.”

“Because you don’t know what to call my job?”

“Pretty much. Anyway, as you guys know, we’re...running a little thin right now, and that’s on me. We’re going to be tightening up the ship, and making sure we’re running properly. Jimin, I need finances from across the company. Tae, I need all of the reports from HR. Jin and Jungkook, I want a list and summary of all of the projects we’re working on right now. Yoongi and Namjoon: keep working on that one project. Anything I need to know right now?”

“We have that event tomorrow, with the food trucks, and we need to decide on the judges.”

“Okay, so, we let everyone who wants to judge put their name on a list, then we’ll draw names from a hat. Jimin’s on the judgement panel as well.”

“I am?”

“You’ll eat anything, the rest of us are too picky. And Jungkook will be filming.” Hoseok made a couple of notes. “I have to talk to our janitorial staff, and y/n will be with me. They haven’t been cleaning up here like they’re supposed to. Y/n’s office was disgusting, and this room was a mess.”

“Uh oh. Firing anyone?”

“He wants to see if talking to them will fix the issue first,” You said dryly. “Which, in my experience, is a waste of time. There’s always someone dragging their feet and I bet if we looked through the HR reports, or even sent me in under cover for a few hours, we’d be able to pinpoint the weak link and remove it from the chain.”

“She’s got a point. I could take her down and tell them she’s doing some work in each department. We’ve done that before, for people who were actually working for one of the departments.” Jimin clicked his pen a couple of times.

Hoseok considered it a moment while he worked on a bite of his donut, then nodded. “Alright. Then we’ll do that. You might need different clothing. If it takes more than a couple of hours, don’t worry about it. If this works, we’ll put you in different departments as though you were experiencing everything. Because I think we need a spy in the HR department as well. Plus anything you find about employee welfare and happiness, that’s always a good thing. We’ll say you’re one of Jimin’s random hires. Get it done.”

Jimin nodded, then checked you over. “They’ll give her a uniform, so we don’t need to worry about her clothing. Maybe just fix your hair so that you look more like ‘random girl’ instead of ‘sophisticated lady’.”

“Did you just call me a lady?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Jimin shrugged.

“Anyway, finish things here, then y/n dress down and we’ll discuss your work later today. You’ll eat lunch with us, Jimin, make sure to mention that.” Hoseok wrote a couple more things down. “I’ll be in my office, reviewing things. I’ll let you know at lunch what the real plan is. We’re gonna change things.”

“Okay,” Huffy said firmly. “That’s that then. Donuts done, coffee drunk, work to do. Off we go. The sooner we work, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get a drink.”

That seemed to be the signal for everyone to get up and get moving.

You followed Jimin out, letting him lead you to the bathroom. “Sophisticated lady?”

“Make your hair more casual, maybe remove some of your makeup. And lose the jacket.”

You sighed and did as you were told as he disappeared for a moment, returning with a different shirt and a sweater.

“Try these.”

You looked at them, a little concerned.

“They’re clean, trust me. And they’re more casual than what you’re wearing.”

You waved him out of the room again, changing into the new shirt and sweater, a little disturbed at how well they fit. “Where did you get these?” You asked, opening the door again.

“Someone left them behind. Can’t remember when, can’t remember who, just remember they didn’t work here.” He checked his own hair while you switched your hair from a bun to a nice-looking pony-tail. “Can’t even remember why her shirt and sweater were left behind. Think she borrowed one of mine?”

You stared at him. “Did you sleep with this girl?”

He turned back to you with a half-smile. “No. I was drunk, but no. My boyfriend at that time wouldn’t have been too thrilled.”

“Do you have baggage about said boyfriend as your friend does about the significant other that he lost?” You asked, studying the impish man in front of you.

Jimin’s smile died a bit. “Told you about that, did he?”

“More or less. Focused more on the ones that survived rather than the one that died. So, baggage: yes or no?”

Jimin came and stood right in front of you, then moved closer, reaching and closing the bathroom door, locking it.

You clenched a fist, just in case.

“Baggage...yes. Same ship. All of us, the whole board, everyone in there. My boyfriend...we were at the point of breaking up anyway, so I feel guilty about that, because he wouldn’t have been there if I had. Hoseok was going to propose. Namjoon’s childhood friend. Yoongi’s girlfriend was paralyzed, and her brain...she only recognizes her family and she’s...not doing well. Two of Taehyung’s friends. Jungkook’s brother. Seokjin’s whole family, except his nephew. He jokes about drinking, but he really just wants to get to the daycare at a decent time. If he knows he has to stay late, he has a babysitter that brings his nephew here. Hoseok feels a lot of responsibility because he was the one who suggested we have a board retreat and invite family and friends. Seokjin, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jungkook were all there when it happened. Myself, Yoongi, and Hoseok were delayed because of an emergency on a project we were heading up.”

You nodded slowly. “Got it. So, this company is being run by seven people who have undergone a whole lot of trauma and grief in the past six months. That doesn’t sound at all like a recipe for disaster.” Eight, a little voice whispered, eight if you’re included.

Jimin nodded a bit. “Right. What did you lose in that accident?”

You held his gaze steadily. “The will to please others with false actions and honeyed words.”

Jimin’s head tilted slightly and his eyes narrowed just a bit.

“My older brother worked on that ship, one of the engineers. He’d been filing reports like a good little worker bee about some of the issues they were seeing, but the reports were being ignored. He was threatened, and told to keep quiet if he wanted to keep his job. He told me, I told him to fight, to make sure no one got on that damn ship.”

“But he didn’t,” Jimin whispered, gaze shifting away from you.

“But I gave the people suing that company everything they needed to win their case, especially with HopeWorld providing the financial means for everyone to fight. It was serious neglect on their part, but even I was too pliant to do anything about it. So I’m done. I’m done trying to please others and put up with their crap and if you don’t unlock that door, I’m sorry, but I might punch you.”

He unlocked it. “Right. Sorry.”

“I’ve been dealing with too many thugs from the cruise company. That’s why I was job hunting. That’s why I got that job at the bar. It was a favor that a friend called in from the owner, but they both thought I was a bad fit. I was just desperate. And then Hoseok came in drunk on one glass of wine and complaining about a virgin pina colada.”

“That’s why he wouldn’t stop talking about virgins,” Jimin muttered. “He kept saying something about virgins being confident, and that he wished he was that confident, and that he was joking about not ordering virgins and it was all weird.”

“He should not be allowed to drink.”

“Well, normally he’s a sober and sleepy drunk, so, yesterday was a bit of an outlier. Happiest I’d seen him in a while, though. Especially after he met you.” He was studying you again.

“If you have something to say, then say it. I told you, I’m not waiting around for BS.”

“You’re not like the person he lost, I can tell that right away. But you’re the first person he’s shown...interest in. I guess I’m just curious about what he saw that intrigued him so much.”

“My winning personality and barbed words,” You answered, then grabbed your wallet from your purse and tucked it into your pocket, shoving the purse into the empty drawer that Hoseok had pointed out earlier. “What was the person he lost like?”

“Soft, a little...out-there, artistic, wild dreamer, adventurous, spontaneous,” Jimin listed, then shrugged. “Different.”

You paused to look at Jimin again. “When you said he’s taken an interest in me, did you mean….”

“Possibly romantically. Not definite, but there’s always a few different paths interest in other people can take us, isn’t there. If you’re anything like I’m assuming you are, you’d actually be a good match for him.” Jimin walked out. “Now, come on. We’ve got work to do.”

-----

You were undercover in HopeWorld for a week before you finally were able to return and start moving into your office--having turned in a twenty-page report on your findings while working undercover.

And it was spotlessly clean this time, and there was a computer there. It was even sporting a nice, new plant in the one corner with a card that read it was from all of the other board members.

The winky-face said that Taehyung had been in charge of delivering it and writing the note.

So you set to unpacking the small box of office supplies that you were bringing in.

You were getting a corkboard and a whiteboard later, plus two more chairs so that anyone else in your office could sit down (or you could switch seats through the day if you needed to), and you definitely planned on bringing some more plants here since it got more sunlight than your tiny flat did.

So you unpacked a couple of empty binders, sheafs of paper, a few notebooks, your new pens and pencils, and your pen and pencil holders. You set a photo-frame on your desk. You pulled out a bottle of lotion and put it in one of your desk drawers.

And that’s where you found the photo of Hoseok with the person that had to be his lover.

“Of course,” You murmured, sighing, then you set the photo aside to return to him at your meeting later.

In the past week, you’d gotten a pretty good read on most of the boys, even Yoongi.

But Seokjin was distant, and kept you distant. He didn’t stick around on the days you were in what was technically his department, instead finding an excuse to be elsewhere.

Taehyung and Jimin had both shrugged when you told them that Seokjin was avoiding you.

“Don’t see why he would,” Jimin said, and you knew he was being honest.

It was fine. The boys weren’t your job anyway. Your job was to look at things practically, find problems or potential problems, and present them to people who could fix them. Your job was to question everything so that every eventuality is considered and the best product of the workers' time is produced.

“That’s not a very big box for such a big office.”

You jumped and dropped the stapler, but jumped back so that it wouldn’t staple you on accident (something that had, unfortunately, happened before). “You trying to give me a heart attack?”

Seokjin shrugged, strolling in casually and picking it up. “Not my intention.”

“Then what is your intention?” You asked, wondering what could have brought the illusive man to your office before the morning meeting. According to the others, and your own experiences, he was always just barely on time for the meeting.

He just looked at you carefully. “Can I ask you a question, and get an honest answer?”

“Fire away,” You replied, lifting an eyebrow curiously.

He moved closer so he was looking you in the eye. “Why did you take this job?”

You frowned a bit, stepping back and trying to figure out why he was asking that. But also, how to answer.

“Please answer honestly.”

“Jimin told you about my brother, the cruise ship?”

“Yes. He told all of us, Hoseok too. Hoseok had his suspicions. I don’t think they know that you were on the ship as well.”

You huffed out a laugh and leaned against your desk. “Good. I don’t need any of that nonsense.”

He nodded. “You were answering my question.”

You took a deep breath and then released it, looking at the ceiling. “Desperation. Have to pay the rent. And he seemed...optimistic.” There was something appealing to that optimism. Something familiar and comfortable. Refreshing.

“What did he tell you your job was going to be?”

“Dealing with trash that tried to get near him.”

“What’s on your resume?”

“Nothing to make me qualify for this office. And if you think I’m here because I’m taking advantage of his kindness...I can’t say that you’re wrong, but I’m also just curious about what he intends for me. Don’t think that I enjoy saying that someone is dead weight. They’re people, and they need to make a living somehow, but they need to make that living honestly. THere are people who want jobs, who need jobs, who are actually willing to put in the work.”

“So, going undercover…?”

“It was a solution that would alleviate the feelings of guilt that our boss might have felt if we hadn’t fully investigated and ended up firing someone. Besides, he strikes me as a bit of a neat freak, so I figure the janitorial staff should be top-notch. I did hear a rumor that J-Hope had liberated a cleaning cart and taken it to the top floor, though.”

Jin sighed, shaking his head. “He really hasn’t trusted the cleaning staff since your first day.”

“Lovely. Did he clean this office?”

“Gotta admire his work ethic.”

You shook your head. “So, I’m not the only person who’s almost completely in the dark about what my job actually is, am I?”

“I think he keeps rethinking what he wants for you.”

“And you’ve been avoiding me because…?”

He shrugged a bit. “I haven’t. It’s been a bad week for my nephew. I’ve been in and out of the office all week. Plus I’ve been working with Hobi.”

You both jumped as someone banged on your office door.

Hoseok threw it open with a grin, then halted, surprised. “Oh, hyung.”

“Hey, Hoseok-y. Y/n and I were just talking. I’ll leave you two to discuss y/n’s job. Because I think we’re all confused about it.” Seokjin took one of your paperclips and left.

Hoseok looked after him in confusion. “Did he ask if he could take that paperclip?”

“Um, no, but it’s just a paperclip. You read the report?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Good work on that. Sorry you were thrown into it so soon after starting.”

“You mean my first day.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Your first day. So, I’ve figured out what your story is going to be.”

“My story?”

“Whenever a higher-up is brought in, they’re presented to the company. There are already rumors about a higher-up being brought into Mr. Jung’s board, and it’s extremely unorthodox for us to not present you within the first two weeks. So, we’ve got a couple days leeway to get you settled into your actual job.”

“I’m pretty sure that was part of my actual job.”

“Right. Anyway, I thought we might tell people that you’re the eyes and ears of Mr. Jung, and that one of your jobs is ensuring that we are at top potential.”

“Ok.”

“Which is basically what we already said, but I want to make it clear that you are in direct communication with HR and all reports go to you at the end of the day. I’m just having trouble coming up with your title.”

“Quality manager?”

He paused. “Ok, you’re really good. How have you not worked in a job like this before?”

“Hard times, big sacrifices. So, if I’m understanding things correctly, you want me to look through the reports on behaviors and such and make sure they’re looked into and that we’re paying attention, but also you want me to check in on projects and make sure we’re asking all the right questions.”

“Exactly. Quality manager is an excellent way of describing that job. But also, your job is to keep people from trying to see Mr. Jung. Mr. Jung has enough on his plate.”

You nodded. “I can do that. Shall we practice? I read through the notes on that memory core device.”

He grinned. “Sounds great. But first, the morning meeting.”

You nodded. “Thank you for cleaning my office, by the way.”

He just smiled back. “I can’t stand messes.”

“I gathered. You’ve got a pretty big one downstairs, though.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of dreading firing people though.”

“Then let me handle it. You can be there as a known authoritative figure and I’ll do the talking.”

“They might get mad at you for spying.”

“Then I trust you to handle their subsequent anger appropriately. I’ll try to keep things professional.”

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Even offering to do any of this. I wasn’t really ready to take on the boss position. But I can’t sit by while people abuse their place in this company. I have to deal with the messes. My family didn’t build this legacy for me to let it fall apart.” His gaze was darker, but held determination to continue forward. A sternness to see things through.

The side of J-Hope that was the CEO of HopeWorld.

“I think once you get over the first trials you’ll be just fine.”

He looked at you in surprise. “You think?”

“I believe,” you amended. “I believe you are capable of being a great leader. I believe even though you are generous and compassionate, you will be able to handle the harder parts of this job for the good of the many employees who are doing their jobs to the best of their ability. Because that’s what it means when people are fired. The waste they accumulate is returned to the company and those that are still with it can benefit, or others who need the job take it and actually accomplish it. You’re improving efficiency, which makes the company prosper so you can do more for your employees.”

He slowly nodded. “That makes sense.”

You nodded. “Look at me: I could actually afford a new work outfit.”

He grinned, looking you over. “And it’s a great outfit.”

Okay. You hadn’t expected that.

“Are you implying something inappropriate?”

“Never. I just think it’s a very appropriate look and that it is very good at accentuating your good looks. You’re very good at shopping.”

You weren’t. Not really. Taehyung and Jimin had tagged along and helped you shop because you weren’t sure what would be best for the job and position. You had picked the items out, but Jimin and Taehyung had helped you style them together and decide on them.

“Sounds inappropriate to me.”

He chuckled. “Can’t you just take the compliment? It’s early.”

“If you compliment me, people might think that you’re showing favoritism.”

“Let them,” He answered easily, shrugging and holding the door open for you.

“Are you drunk again? I told you, you really shouldn’t drink.” You folded your arms.

He just laughed. “In. We’re late.”

“If we are, it’s your fault,” You replied, walking in and waving to the other men.

“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t dream of blaming you. Morning, everyone.” Hoseok took his seat. “What’s the day look like?”

“Same as yesterday, except whatever you and y/n are up to. My project is almost ready to present, Seokjin’s coming to help me today.”

“I do have my nephew today, he’s having a bad day,” Seokjin said quietly, making notes.

“That’s fine,” Hoseok said firmly, Namjoon merely nodding. “People like seeing him, and we’ve always said that kids are welcome as long as they don’t disturb others.”

“And he can come to my office anytime,” Taehyung said with a fond grin.

Seokjin nodded. “I have a meeting with my division just before lunch?”

Taehyung grinned. “We can color!”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “Work, Taehyung. He can color, you can design.”

“Right. Right. That.”

“I need Yoongi-hyung’s help on the memory-core project.”

Hoseok looked mildly intrigued, glancing at you.

“I can head down after I check on my project. Might be an hour or so.” Yoongi checked his watch.

Hoseok nodded. “And we’ll be there in about two hours so that Y/n can look things over as my second set of eyes.”

Jungkook looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “O-oh, o-o-okay.”

The others looked mildly surprised, but quickly moved on.

“I’ll be on phone meetings to organize that event most of the morning. Our employees really enjoyed the food truck war, and it’s summer, so I think it’s best to try and have enjoyable events as frequently as possible during the weeks we can’t give them 3-day weekends.” Jimin twirled his pen as he spoke, looking over something on his planner.

“I’ll leave it in your hands, just don’t go over budget.” Hoseok jotted a few things down. “Okay. Y/n and I have to deal with some unsatisfactory employees, then we’ll be down to see how things are going with the memory core. Not sure about our afternoon, but I might leave that for her to settle in. How does that sound to you?”

“If ‘settle in’ means looking over reports, then that sounds fine.”

He nodded, flipping his book closed. “Alright. Then off we go.”

You got up and followed him out, and into the elevator.

“It’ll be best to go to them since it would draw a lot of attention to bring them up. We need the head of janitorial service with us as well, and I want to apprise her of what’s going to happen before we do it. You were smart to record the conversation, I’ll present that to Chiseul.”

Chiseul had been in charge of sanitation at the company for eight years, she was kind, but firm and had no patience for slacking. When you’d worked under her, even for a day, you could tell she expected the best. She had put who she thought were her best people in charge of cleaning the top floor, but instead they had been doing very basic cleaning and actually stealing from the company.

Her reaction to finding out was silent fury. “Are you sure you don’t want me to fire them?”

“We believe that it’s best for us to handle it, that way others will know that they can’t pull anything. I’m sorry we deceived you,” You said respectfully, because you did respect her. You’d put in your report that she should get a raise.

Hoseok nodded. “We will be implementing a system to keep people accountable soon.”

She accepted that with a sharp nod and then went to call those who would be fired into her office.

Hoseok groaned as soon as the elevator doors closed. “That could have gone better.”

------

You held the ice to your face and shrugged. “Could have gone worse. Security stepped in at the appropriate time. And I didn’t fight back, which means I can’t be charged with assault should they try anything like that. There were also multiple witnesses.”

“But you got hurt,” He argued, rubbing his face. “You got hurt.”

“So, I’ll have a black eye. I walk to work, so it’s not like I’ll be driving while mildly impaired. We got ice on it pretty quickly, and I don’t think it will end up being too bad of a black eye.”

“You got hurt,” He whispered.

“And I’m fine. Hoseok, we’re on our way to look over a major project in your company. Pull yourself together.” You reached over and straightened his collar. “It’s a bruise, not a fatal wound.”

He caught your wrist, holding you in place so he could move the ice pack with his other hand and see, the whole time his expression holding worry and what might have been nausea. “Why would they attack you? I was there too. Why would they only attack you?”

He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t listening.

“Betrayal,” You answered anyway, sighing a little and forcing the ice-pack back to your face.

“Uh, you two coming out of there or do you need another moment?” Yoongi asked, an eyebrow raised as he looked between you, not seeming to care that he’d startled both of you since you’d been too busy looking at one another to realize the elevator was open. But his gaze stuck on the ice pack. “Shit, they hit you?”

“Don’t you start too,” You groaned, exiting the elevator.

Hoseok stopped you, pulling you back so he could look at your eye again. “Hyung, look at her eye.”

Yoongi frowned a bit more, but complied. His eyes widened a bit. “Uh…infirmary.”

“Thought so.” Hoseok pulled you back into the elevator.

“Oh, come on,” You groaned.

Yoongi just shushed you. “Your eye looks bloody.”

“Oh.” Well, that was special. It didn’t especially hurt, but that might be because you were numbing the area.

But Hoseok ended up taking you to the hospital for evaluation.

As the two of you walked out of the hospital, you sighed for the fortieth time. “Told you I was fine.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“He said that I should be fine and to come back in if my eye gets worse or I start having other issues. It was probably her ring that got me.” You glanced at your watch. “Man, I’m not going to experience a regular workday, am I?”

His head dropped. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. I’d probably get bored if it got too quiet. And feeling sorry doesn’t do any good. You didn’t hurt me, so you’re wasting energy by being sorry.”

“I know, but I got you into this job—“

“Are you thirsty?” You asked, stopping.

“What?”

“Are you thirsty?” You asked slowly.

“Um, I guess?”

You nodded and pulled him into the restaurant, dragging him to the bar.

“I don’t think you should have alcohol—“

“Hi, can I get a water with lemon and a Piña colada?” You asked the bartender, ignoring Hoseok. You had no intention of drinking, but Hoseok was so tense it was making you tense.

He stared at the piña colada. “What?”

“Drink. You’re driving me crazy. You need to relax and I doubt you’re going to do it on your own. I’ll make sure you don’t end up in a back alley.” You patted his hand.

“So…if you could drink, what would it be?” He asked.

“Probably a gimlet, with extra lime. But like I said, my preferred drink is water. I like to keep my head clear. There’s less golf-ball swallowing.”

He snorted and choked on his second sip of his drink.

You patted his back as he tried to recover from choking, and he was laughing in between coughing which wasn’t helping at all.

The bartender was looking concerned.

“His wife left him for his sister and his brother in law confessed his love to him, it’s a royal mess,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

Hoseok died a little more. “Stop,” He gasped, finally just laughing.

“It’s not my fault he thinks your butt is cute.”

He collapsed off of the stool, thudding to the ground and laughing harder.

“Man, two sips and you’re already drunk. You better not ask me if I like that nastiness again.”

He got up with your help, starting to calm down. “I won’t ask that.”

“Good. But seriously, I’m cutting you off. You’re too much of a lightweight.” You settled the bill with some extra for the bartender, then guided him toward the door.

But both of you stopped at the door.

“It’s raining?” Hoseok asked, still a little breathless.

“It would appear so.” You looked up at the sky.

“Do you like getting caught in the rain?” He asked quietly, holding out his hand.

You laughed softly, taking his hand. “I actually really do.”

“Really?” He smiled as he laced his fingers with yours.

“Really,” You confirmed, looking out at the rain with a little excitement.

“You might ruin your clothing.”

“Clothing washes, as do I.” You tugged and pulled him out into the rain, giggling as the rain started soaking into you.

He laughed as well, looking less comfortable in the rain, but like he was willing to let you lead him through it.

No.

Like he would follow you into anything.

“Why did you offer me the job?” You asked.

He met your gaze with surprise.

“Why me?”

He smiled at you, stepping closer so he could be heard. “I couldn’t say goodbye.”

You tilted your head.

“I couldn’t say goodbye to you, not at that time, and I don’t know why, but I’m trying to figure it out.”

You could work with that.

Hoseok touched your cheek, then moved in.

You knew your eyes were a little wide.

He gave a slight smile and then leaned in to kiss you.

You allowed it, and you didn’t regret it as his lips met yours. It was…new. Different. Right.

Except for one tiny detail.

You pushed him away gently. “Okay. But you need a new go-to drink because I forgot to mention I’m actually allergic to coconut, so, I’m gonna take some allergy meds now.”

His eyes widened. “I like mimosas and daiquiri.”

You nodded, swallowing an allergy pill. “Great. We won’t kill me, then.”

“How allergic are you?”

You shrugged. “I should be fine now.”

“Okay.”

“So, if you want to kiss me, we can do that again.”

He met your gaze, smiling. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

You rolled your eyes, then pulled him in. “Kiss me.”

He grinned. “Man, I love your honesty.”

And in the rain, you kissed your piña colada man, ignoring what might happen in your future.

“Might not be a permanent job, my judgement might be clouded. I might show favoritism.”

“Then call me a consultant pending permanent employment and depending where this takes us we’ll…let the others decide my fate.”

“Works for me. Let me walk you home. Where do you live?”

You gestured vaguely. “That way. About fifteen minutes from your building. Work. Place.”

“When you said you were a virgin—”

“I never said I was a—walk. We’re getting soaked standing here like idiots and I hear thunder.” You started walking, keeping hold of his hand. “That or I start reevaluating what parts you really need.”

He laughed. “You know what’s funny?”

“No.”

“When you’re actually being honest, your hands relax, and when you’re bluffing, they get all tense.”

Huh.

“What is your biggest concern with the memory core?”

You considered it for a moment. “It could just be a matter of wording.”

“That’s still important.”

“The proposal suggests imprinting all of the memories of the player onto the memory core so that full immersion is more stimulating.”

“Right.”

“But it’s wording makes it sound like the game is replacing their memories. Imagine someone overwrites the data: what happens when the player tries to re-immerse themselves?”

He was quiet for a while. “That…could be….”

“Disastrous. This machine is supposed to work with your brain, but corrupted files could shut the brain down or damage it. It is incredibly dangerous if I’m understanding it correctly.”

“It could hurt people. We have to tick every box. And come up with fail safes.”

“To me, it’s not worth the risk. But that’s why I wanted to talk to them, to make sure I was understanding things.” You gestured to a building. “This is me.”

He nodded, only following when you tugged on his hand. “Are you sure you want me—”

“We’re soaked and the wind is picking up, and—” lightning flashed through the sky, “the storm is getting worse. We’ll call you a cab or something.”

“Right. Inside. Good idea.”

You ditched your shoes the moment you got in, rushing to the bathroom to grab towels so the two of you didn’t drip all over everything. “It’s a bit hot in here, sorry, my AC broke.”

“Just means we’re not going to get chilled,” He answered, taking the towel and looking around. “It’s nice.”

You glanced around as well. You’d opted for minimalism since that was the only way to make the place not feel claustrophobic. “It does the job.”

“So, you’re allergic to coconut?”

“Mostly the consumption, but I do have mild reactions externally as well.”

“How’d you find out?”

“Coconut hair treatment with my friend when I was fifteen. They had to cut my hair off because my scalp blistered and broke out and it was…traumatizing. But that was because it was coconut oil right against my skin for over an hour, undiluted. My daily allergy meds help if I happen to use, I don’t know, soap with coconut in it.” You put the kettle on the stove since you were feeling kind of chilled. “Tea?”

“Sure.” He started examining the photos on your wall (all three of them). “So, if I hadn’t been the last straw for that job, where do you think you’d be right now?”

“Dumping a scotch-neat on my boss’s head, if not down his pants, after quitting and looking for a job with less drunk people. My boss was drunk, my coworkers were drunk, everyone was drunk, except me. Do you know how surreal that feels?”

“And yet you accepted a job from me, someone who was drunk?”

“So you admit it,” You pointed out.

He rubbed his neck. “I usually only drink in the evenings, it generally makes me sleepy.”

“You had caffeine with your alcohol, then.”

“Accidentally.”

“That would explain the whole ‘why is the rum always gone’ debacle.”

He was very red looking in profile, but that could have been the lighting. “Yeah. I was embarrassed as I did it and yet I didn’t stop. Stupid.”

“If I hadn’t been having a terrible night, I probably would have enjoyed the reference, honestly. But, as you put it, you were the last straw. I would probably be applying to fast food right about now if it hadn’t been you.” You watched him studying your photos far longer than they were worth studying. “Are my photos that interesting?”

“These three were the ones you consciously decided to display, which means they mean something to you.”

You thought about that for a moment, thinking about all of the photos of families that the people you’d worked under while spying had shown you. Always the kids, always the wife, always the beloved pet.

But Hoseok had no photos in his office.

“You don’t keep any photos visible in your office, and office photos are, arguably, the ones that provide the most insight into people,” You countered, sitting on the floor with the tray of tea on the coffee table.

He joined you on the floor. “It’s a precaution. I keep the photos in J-Hope’s desk, the locked drawer. I’m surprised you noticed, though.”

“I wouldn’t have, but people kept shoving their photos in my face and if they weren’t, then I was redirecting their attention to their photos so I would get away with my snooping. People like to talk about themselves.”

He was watching you, a soft smile on his face. “You really are something else.”

You shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you there.”

“We could hide it, you know. Us, whatever we are?”

“Professional flirtation,” You guessed, holding the mug and surprised at how cold your fingers had been. “Workday dalliance?”

“Wow, um, anyway, we could just not tell anyone about us.”

“9 to 5 lovers,” You quipped, trying to come up with more.

“Are you purposefully ignoring me?”

“Ye-es,” You dragged out, trying to think of another thing to call it.

“You don’t think we could?”

“I think the boys would figure it out before the morning meeting ended.”

“Oh, right, I didn’t mean from the boys.”

“Oh, ok, please continue.” You leaned on your hand and watched him.

“We stay away from anything unprofessional at work, with the exception of in private, and we make sure no one catches on. Then, when I officially take my position...we reevaluate where we are and adjust accordingly.”

“Officially take your position?”

“Technically, I’m not yet the CEO, my father is, but I’ve been acting CEO for about three years.”

He didn’t add that they had been the most prosperous three years of the company’s history, but maybe he was trying to stay humble.

“So, once he’s better and we finish a few things, he’ll hand over things to me officially. In front of the company.”

“Revealing that J-Hope is actually his son and everyone’s boss.”

He nodded. “Which would also be revealing that you have been working for me.”

“All of which could be potentially disastrous.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I bet you’d say I should have been open about it the whole time.”

“Not at all. I think this was the best course of action. Everyone respects J-Hope, they like him. They like his work ethic, they like how he listens, and they like how he cares. They like how bright and cheerful he is. They don’t know if they can trust their CEO, but they know that the board has been taking care of them and the CEO has been allowing it. They’re curious, and a little apprehensive.” You remembered all of the conversations you’d had over the week.

But one stuck out to you.

You’d been getting coffee with one of the employees in the marketing department, discussing the company and it’s leadership.

“I don’t know about the CEO. Or, well,” She flustered for a second. “I don’t know why he feels the need to hide from us. His father never did, but maybe there’s a plan. Every now and then, they have someone who sort of...scopes things out. They had me in project development for a couple of weeks so that I could tell them what I thought of the person that was testing the projects. That person was Mr. Jeon.”

You’d tilted your head, confused.

“Jeon Jungkook, he’s one of the board members, the youngest board member. He’s really good at catching on, which makes him a prime test subject for things that are about to be released. We can’t bring people in, not often, because information tends to get leaked. He’s been a godsend to the company. Mr. Jung found him, too, he’s found just about every top employee, and all of the board members--except J-Hope. He worked his way up through the company, and then impressed Mr. Jung Sr. and was given a job on the board. He looks after employee welfare and we’ve had an amazing increase in our benefits program ever since. It’s a shame Mr. Jung Jr. didn’t start out like J-Hope.”

“What’s that look for?”

You jumped a bit, refocusing on him. “All of the things that J-Hope has done are your accomplishments. You’ve improved the benefits program, upgraded the retirement package, made sure that everyone has received pay increases, and you worked your way up through the company. Your intellect lies in people, and your devotion to your job as their employer has inspired loyalty to you. I’m not saying you should go out tomorrow and reveal that you’re Mr. Jung Jr.”

“Do they really call me that?” He cringed.

“But you shouldn’t fear...telling them who you are. Yes, it could cause problems, but only momentarily. Until then, you want me to help you deal with trash and question everything so that the ship is running tightly when the official transfer happens. Right?” You asked, sitting up straight. “That way if anything happens with stocks, or the market, the company is running smoothly and will stay afloat.”

“You have a business degree, don’t you?”

“I never graduated,” You corrected easily. “But I did study some business, yes. This is what you want from me, correct?��

“Yes. I need you to tell me to suck it up when I hesitate.”

“Okay. Did you read my report on the other departments?”

He nodded slowly.

“Then I suggest you decide what should be done to those employees, and what you’re actually willing to do. Because I outlined my suggestions for each of them, but ultimately, it is up to you. You want to run a tight ship, you need to get rid of excess crew, which sounds terrible, but it’s true. If they’re not doing their job, they have no reason to be on deck. And some of them were on the wrong decks.”

He nodded. “I’ll review it once more, but we’ll probably go with your suggested actions.”

“Okay. Glad we understand each other.” You grabbed your phone, checking it. “Taehyung wants to know if I’m alive, and if I’m alive, is Hoseok alive as well.”

“Crap,” He went into his pocket. “Oh. They just wanted to go drinking. Taehyung is our usual designated driver. He’s not a big drinker like Jungkook and Jimin. I’m going to ask him to swing by and pick me up. If that’s okay.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know how you felt about where you lived. You’re kind of hard to read.”

“I live here, I pay the rent, it’s small, but it’s mine. Or were you referring more to a bunch of men knowing where I, a single woman, lived?”

“The latter.”

“Ah, sweet of you to be concerned, but Jimin’s already seen my place.”

“He has?” Hoseok frowned.

“He dropped me off after we went shopping. None of the stores had bathrooms. Nature called.” You shrugged.

“I don’t like that,” Hoseok muttered, obviously more to himself.

“You don’t like that he had to use the bathroom? Or that we went shopping together? Because, technically, he was the only board member I was allowed to be seen with as one of his employment experiments.” You pointed out, waiting for him to pull himself together and continue texting Taehyung. “Also, you might want to text him before it’s too late.”

“That he saw your house.”

“Interesting. Text Taehyung,” You instructed carefully. “Before you have to pay for a cab.”

He did, but he was frowning the whole time.

You rolled your eyes. “Jimin was here for all of five minutes. I doubt he could even tell you what color the walls in the bathroom are.”

“Color,” He muttered, getting up and heading to the small hall.

“Um….”

“Purple. Walls are purple. Take that.”

“Oh my god, there is no way you’re even buzzed, why are you acting weird?”

“Purple. Blue. White. Three pictures.”

You rolled your eyes, and shook your head. “Weirdo. I mean, I knew that, only weird people like pina coladas--”

He caught you and kissed you again. “Don’t let Jimin in. He’s a minx. He’s a fox. That magic trickster fox that seduces you. A succubus.”

“Incubus,” you corrected. “Which is a sort of demon. Magical fox thing is a kitsune. You’re mixing your mythologies.”

“You’re so smart,” He said, but he said it in a sort of happy, sighing way while looking at you so softly and gently and adoringly….

You believed him.

He touched your cheek, then quickly pulled his hands away. “Alright. How about a rule?”

“Depends on the rule,” You replied.

“You have good judgement, and self control,” His gaze shifted to your eye, and his fingers brushed the edge of the bruising with a feather-light touch, “So, I want there to be a rule that at work, any...personal things between us are initiated by you. Which means you can shut me down at any time, anyway you feel necessary.”

“You mean, like asking you about your ex?”

“Ouch,” He muttered, looking down. “Yeah. Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Am I replacing your ex?”

He shook his head. “Not even remotely.”

“I’m in their office.”

He looked up, then shook his head. “No, you’re in my mom’s old office. Yesuel never worked at HopeWorld. Too much of a free-spirit.”

“But you loved them all the same.”

“I did. I thought I did. Love is...tricky.”

“Are you ready for another significant other?” You asked.

He met your gaze, holding it. “Do you like getting lost in the rain?”

You smiled. “You know I do.”

“Then you know I am,” He replied easily, fingers resting under your chin. “Are you going to be okay, with your eye like that? They did say it could get worse, and if it does….”

“Are you asking if you can stay? Because you’d have to borrow clothing, or live in a blanket until your clothing is dry. I don’t have much that would fit you.”

“I’m worried about you. I’ll stay on the couch.” He touched a strand of your still-damp hair. “Eye injuries are dangerous.”

“Didn’t you already tell Taehyung to come pick you up?”

He shook his head. “I was just going to walk down to work and get my car and pretend that Taehyung picked me up.”

You hit him lightly. “And if you got struck by lightning?”

“My company would be in good hands,” He answered, shrugging slightly. “But I would miss out on a few things. But you can get hit by lightning and live.”

“Not well,” You argued, frowning.

He gently ran a thumb over your eyebrow, as though to ease away your frown. “Besides, I was already struck by you. I don’t think anything could knock me off my feet like that, I don’t think anything ever has. You’re new and unique. And I want to know everything I can about you. Even if you don’t like pina coladas. Even if you are a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re addicted to it,” He replied easily, smirking at you.

And yes.

You were.

It was crazy, but you were completely addicted to the banter with him, the way he smiled while you were grumbling, the way he asked what you thought of things and actually listened. You liked his gentleness and compassion.

He brought hope back to your world.

“I agree to your rule,” You whispered.

Hoseok grinned and kissed you.

Your future was going to be crazy...but maybe the consistency of his smile was enough to get you through.

#btswritingbingo #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #reader x jhope #reader x bts #bts fic #jung hoseok #jhope #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #yoongi #namjoon #business au #ceo!hoseok #ceo!jhope #one-shot

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thehangeddemon · 3 years

Text

Waiting for a Tuesday || Self Para || September 14, 2021

☠ WARNING ☠

This work contains graphic descriptions of violence, gore, and torture

Reader discretion is advised

“More tea, sir?”

Xavier glanced up from his newspaper and gave the waiter a pleasant smile. He shook his head. “I’m fine, John, thank you. You can bring me the check as soon as y—”

“Actually, John. Why don’t you go ahead and bring us another pot of tea? Anything but English breakfast,” he added with a chuckle that almost sounded condescending. “I don’t share my son’s fondness for it.”

The waiter watched as a man, who had seemed to appear out of nowhere and was dressed head to toe in black, invited himself to sit opposite Mr. Rossmara. He’d said ‘son’, but he didn’t really look old enough to have a son Mr. Rossmara’s age. He didn’t really resemble him either but that seemed less strange somehow.

What was strange was the way Mr. Rossmara was looking at the man across from him. He looked…stunned, like he’d seen a ghost or something. But beneath the surprise was an indiscernible emotion on Mr. Rossmara’s face that John thought looked just a little like fear.

At the stranger’s expectant look, John collected himself and cleared his throat, addressing Mr. Rossmara. “…Sir…?”

Xavier seemed to collect himself as well, though far more subtly. He folded up his newspaper and put the pleasant smile back on his face, determined to make it seem like nothing was wrong. Only someone who looked very closely would see how forced the smile was, or how measured his movements were.

“Yes, of course. Does earl grey meet with your approval?”

The man smiled like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “It does.”

“Very well. A pot of earl grey then, John.”

The waiter nodded. “Right away, sir.”

Xavier waited until John was well out of earshot before he spoke again. “Hello, Father. I didn’t expect you.”

Zagan let out another of those condescending laughs that set Xavier’s teeth on edge and dragged him right back to all his memories of Hell. “No, I’m quite certain you did not.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“My dear boy, it was hardly a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes. For as long as you’ve had your shipping business, you’ve come to San Francisco every Tuesday without fail to check in. And without fail, you finish your work just before teatime. By your own admission, this hotel has the best afternoon tea in the city. All I had to do was remember the name of the hotel and wait for a Tuesday.”

Zagan helped himself to one of the cucumber sandwiches that remained on the tray. “You’ve become predictable in your old age, my boy.”

Xavier had to fight to keep from shifting in his seat. Not any-bloody-more. He’d be changing that particular habit immediately. It didn’t suit him at all for someone outside his household to have such intimate knowledge of his movements, especially if that someone was his father. Such information was dangerous in the hands of a man like Zagan. It didn’t matter if it was only the day and location of a standing reservation for tea and cake, Xavier knew from experience that the less his father knew, the better.

Which was largely why he didn’t take any great pains to see him. Unless, of course, he was forced to.

“I see,” Xavier said, settling for an amused smile since a laugh was impossible. “I suppose I am becoming a bit predictable. Anyhow, it’s nice to see you, Father. Have you been well?”

“Well enough.” Zagan was watching him carefully, studying every nuance in his expression, listening to the tone and inflection of every word. Becoming familiar with anything that had changed since the last time he’d seen his demonic progeny.

Thankfully Xavier didn’t have to endure it for very long. John soon returned with their tea, giving him a reprieve from paternal scrutiny as it was poured. It was the only thing that would for the next little while.

This time it was Zagan who waited until they were alone again before he spoke. “So. Tell me. How is that shipping business of yours doing? And your myriad other ventures?”

The next hour or so was spent in what one could call easy conversation. They spoke of Xavier’s businesses, the sights he’d seen, the things he’d collected, the weather, the state of the world. Perfectly light, perfectly casual. At least from an outsider’s perspective.

From Xavier’s point of view things were far more fraught. Everything he said had to be carefully weighed, and there was a desperately thin line between revealing too much and appearing withholding, between looking at ease and projecting discomfort.

Having a conversation with his father hadn’t always been this difficult. In fact, just a few years ago Xavier would have been—and had been—completely comfortable not only talking to Zagan but spending entire days in his company. He’d even sought him out once or twice. But then, Xavier had had far less to lose a few years ago. He hadn’t had a child, a fiancé, staff that depended on him, friends he cared for.

He had all those things now. He had more than he’d allowed himself to have in fifty years, and the memory of how things had gone then still lived all too vividly in his mind.

Getting back to a point of comfort with Zagan after that hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it. There hadn’t been a choice. It was either swallow his pain, grief, and desire for vengeance and make nice, or tempt his father into carrying out his threats.

Sitting here now, Xavier felt much the same as he had then; trapped, resentful, and desperate to get away.

He had no illusions of being able to do that any time soon, however, even when his father finally asked for the check. After such a long absence, Zagan was sure to take up as much of his time as possible.

His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately.

“Come,” said Zagan, getting to his feet. “Let’s take a walk.”

Xavier remained at the table while his father stepped outside, indulging himself with a long, weary sigh the moment it felt safe to do so. It had only been an hour and he was ready for another five-year interlude in their relationship.

What had brought Zagan up from Hell anyway? Surely this visit hadn’t only been for tea and a walk with him. His father hated humans, hated looking at them and being amongst them. There had to be another reason and no doubt it was something Xavier really didn’t want the know the details of.

“Probably scouting his next project child,” Xavier muttered to himself as he pulled his card from his wallet.

Bill settled, he stepped out into the late summer evening and breathed deeply. There was a chill in the air that said autumn was well and truly on its way. Soon the days would grow shorter and the nights longer. His collection of coats would emerge from storage. Every hearth in the manor would roar to life with cheerful, welcoming fires.

He sighed again, longing for the comfort of home as he looked for Zagan among the crowd of people in front of the hotel. That expression of disdain was easy to spot.

“Where shall we go?” Xavier asked, approaching him.

“I don’t know how you can stand it.” His father’s tone all but dripped disgust. “Being here day in and day out among these…creatures and the stench of their cities. It’s revolting.”

“I’d rather smog than brimstone.”

“I think I prefer brimstone.”

Right. That nipped the notion of walking on the street squarely in the bud. If only that were enough to dissuade his father, but alas.

Fortunately, there was a park nearby.

Zagan didn’t say a single word as they made their way there, clearly preferring to stew in his distaste until they were well clear of anyone who might catch a snippet of their conversation. Of course, he hadn’t been nearly so averse to it back at the hotel.

Xavier would just chalk that up to the difference between a well-appointed dining room and a crowded street.

His father’s demeanor seemed marginally more pleasant as they entered the park. It wouldn’t be empty for a good while yet, but it was an improvement from the street. Hopefully it wouldn’t be enough of one to tempt him to stay much longer.

A few long minutes of not-quite-companionable silence passed before Zagan saw fit to fall into conversation again. The additional privacy meant they could discuss things that were far more relevant to his father’s interests than the weather or the goings on at a shipping company. Namely, any magic Xavier had learned, magical artifacts Xavier had acquired, and any kills Xavier had made.

The latter would perhaps prove to be a bit of a disappointment. Not only did Xavier kill less frequently these days, his choice of quarry had changed. The people that he’d once hunted were those he found interesting or amusing or intriguingly intelligent; only on the very rare occasion did he hunt someone who truly deserved it.

That was no longer the case. Lately when Xavier hunted it was only people who truly deserved it. He went for rapists and abusers. He went for people who hurt children, including and especially priests. There was immense satisfaction in knowing exactly where those people were going and what awaited them when they arrived, and even more in describing it in vivid, excruciating detail as they bled to death among the debris of a forest floor.

Hell was a far greater torment than anything he could visit upon them, and he was more than happy to send them on their way.

Zagan let out a loud, derisive laugh at that. “Are you indeed?” The old demon laughed again, putting Xavier’s back up and setting his teeth on edge. “My dear boy, you have been away from Hell too long. Who would’ve imagined? My son, the divine hand of justice for ne’er-do-well priests the world over. Never mind predictable; you’ve grown positively moral in your old age.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Xavier said softly, fighting to unclench his jaw.

His father gave him an amused look. “No?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve merely…unearthed an intolerance I didn’t give sufficient regard to before.”

“Have you? Well.” Zagan chuckled and adjusted his sleeve, looking positively chuffed in a way that both infuriated and unsettled. “You never did like priests. Who would, having had your childhood? I suppose that particular aspect of your personality was bound to rear its head again eventually. Perhaps…it’s entirely appropriate that it should do so now.”

Xavier didn’t register the movement until it was too late. He only had a moment to feel his father grabbing his arm before he was whisked through the familiar vacuum of demonic travel, and even less to register his new surroundings before he was thrown bodily against something cold and unyielding.

“You unearthed an intolerance, did you?” Zagan’s voice, so casual and amused just seconds ago, now quivered with rage.

Xavier went flying again, this time into something that splintered beneath the force of his weight. Wood?

“And when exactly did you do that, Xavier? Was it perhaps around the time that you became a father?”

Again, back into the unyielding cold. Stone. “Father, plea—”

“Not that I can even tell, since I’ve scarcely seen the child—my grandchild—more than twice since the day he was born!”

Xavier cried out as he was flung for a fourth time, several bones breaking upon landing forcefully on a stone floor. There was something soft beneath him, but whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough to cushion his fall.

He braced for another hit, relieved when none came. He could still hear the echo of his father’s furious footsteps, however, which meant the torment wasn’t over. Far from it. The pleasant Zagan of earlier was gone, and who had remained in his place was someone Xavier was very, very familiar with.

Familiar enough to know that he had only a few precious seconds to catch his breath and orient himself.

There wasn’t much he could see from this position apart from the ceiling of whatever edifice they were in but, not wanting to draw attention to himself too soon—or move lest he worsen his breaks—he observed what he could by turning his head.

Said ceiling, high and crisscrossed with thick wooden beams, appeared to be constructed of the same stone as the walls and floor. Dusty chandeliers covered in thick cobwebs were hung every few feet, the candles in them long unlit. The same went for the metal sconces on the walls.

He appeared to be lying in the middle of an aisle bordered on either side by what he could only assume was the wooden something he’d been thrown int—

No. Not just wood. Pews.

Xavier struggled into a sitting position, heedless of his broken bones and desire for inconspicuousness in his rush to confirm his suspicions, to confirm what he already knew.

Panic rose in his chest as he saw the cross silhouetted in stark relief against the waning sunlight streaming in through the stained-glass window.

They were in a church.

Had this been any other time on any other day Zagan wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to mock and use his son’s fear against him. Xavier’s childhood memories of being harrowed and abused by his stepmother and local priest amused him to no end but on this day, he didn’t so much as comment.

He just stalked down the aisle toward Xavier and slammed him back against the floor with a flick of his hand.

“After all,” he said, voice dangerously soft as he crouched beside his son. “I can hardly drop by for a visit now, can I? Not with all those wards you have on the estate that threaten to annihilate anyone who comes in unannounced.” He almost smiled. “You’ve amassed quite the bag of tricks over the last fifty years.”

Xavier could only shake his head. “The wards aren’t—”

“Aren’t what? Aren’t meant to keep me out?” Zagan scoffed, giving Xavier a dubious look as he grabbed a handful of his hair from the back of his head and stood. “Dear boy, do you really expect me to believe that?”

He gave Xavier’s hair a good hard yank, ignoring his son’s cries of pain as he dragged him down the aisle and deposited him on the small set of stairs leading to the altar. “You didn’t ward against me fifty years ago only because you didn’t know how to. If you had, you would’ve done it in a trice to help keep that pathetic little slave of yours out of my grasp, but I’m sure that’s already occurred to you.”

Indignation fought its way in beside pain and panic, and Zagan noticed. His son’s emotions had always been pitifully easy to read, moreso when they ran as profoundly as he knew this did. The servant was still a sore spot even after all this time.

Zagan paused.

“Had you realized?” he asked, crouching again to run a single finger down Xavier’s cheek, those ancient eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “That this year marks the fiftieth anniversary? Had you realized, my beautiful boy, that half a century had passed since you came so close to defying me?”

Fifty years of pain and rage and grief so rarely expressed churned in Xavier’s gut and pulled at his soul. That his father could speak so cavalierly of Maximus and his loss made him want to scream and be ill in equal measure.

Had he realized? How could he not, when every day for the past year and a half had been a battle against remembering? How could he not, when every day he walked halls and sat in rooms identical to those Maximus had once drawn breath in, only to remember that they had burnt to the ground?

How could he not, when dead leaves and rose petals and ash were still enough to bring him to tears?

The same tears that streamed down his face now. Xavier was powerless to stop them and even if he could have, he likely wouldn’t have. After what he’d done to Maximus, an acknowledgement of his grief was the least Xavier could give him, even if his father was the only one who witnessed it.

“Oh my, look at that.” Zagan stroked his son’s face again, collecting those tears and rubbing the moisture between his fingers. He tsked, shaking his head. “My dear, it’s been an absolute age since then. How can a measly little servant still cause all this upset, hm? There now.”

Zagan slipped one arm under Xavier’s knees and the other behind his back, lifting and carrying him the rest of the way up the steps as if he weighed absolutely nothing. He gathered Xavier close, even took care not to jostle him too much.

Such loving gestures were not uncommon for the old demon. There were times in Hell when he had been the absolute image of gentleness and paternal affection, when he had held him as he did now and given him a reprieve from the torture.

But more torture had always followed. Showing him affection was rarely meant to comfort; it was meant to torment.

“I’m sure you feel like the past few decades have been a trial, but you see, I don’t think that’s entirely accurate.” Zagan set Xavier down as carefully as he’d picked him up, petting his hair as that indignant look returned to his son’s expression. “Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t doubt you’ve suffered a great deal over your servant. I don’t see why you would when they’re so readily available, but I don’t doubt it. I just think you haven’t quite…put things in perspective.”

With of wave of his father’s hand, every sconce, chandelier, and candelabra flickered to life, allowing Xavier his first real look at the derelict church. Not that there was much to see. No one had set foot in here for a very long time, let alone used it as a place of worship.

But when he turned his head, Xavier saw something that made his blood run cold.

Until now he’d felt trepidation, resentment, emotional anguish. Only when he saw the lines of a demon trap scorched into the threadbare carpet beneath him did he finally feel fear.

“Father…?”

“You see, my dear, I don’t think you realize how easy you got off all those years ago.” Zagan shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

“Father, please—”

Zagan knelt beside him. “My own son considers rebelling against me, disobeying me, gives a servant pride of place over his father, and what does he have to pay for it? Absolutely nothing.” He unbuttoned Xavier’s suit jacket and shirt, undid his trousers. “My son defies his father and still he gets to keep his estate, his businesses, his treasures. His life. All these things my son gets to keep, he goes virtually without punishment for fifty years, and does he realize that? Does it occur to him how generous his father has been in his infinite mercy? No. Rather than show gratitude, he has the childish audacity to believe he is the aggrieved party!”

Xavier didn’t see Zagan move. There was just an awful squelching sound, then searing pain as his father, having pierced his torso with a bare hand, sliced it upward and gutted him like a fish from groin to sternum.

“Which doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed your efforts,” Zagan said calmly above the echoing din of his son’s screams. Casually. “You’ve been such a good boy, treating your papa to afternoon tea and accompanying him for a walk. But I have been far too lax with you. You see that, don’t you?”

He gripped the jagged edges of Xavier’s wound and forced them apart to another chorus of screams. “All those wards, the prolonged absence.” Zagan shook his head. “There comes a point where it all gets to be a bit too much. What’s that expression? Getting too big for your britches? I think you’ll agree you got too big for yours a very long time ago. What’s more, I think you’ll agree that it’s high time that you paid the piper.”

Zagan got to his feet and made his way over to the wooden table beneath the stained-glass window at the head of the altar. He retrieved a hammer, a covered metal bowl, and a set of railroad spikes and brought them over to the demon trap, kneeling again.

Xavier could only watch him, borderline delirious as his chest heaved and his wounds bled. He didn’t dare lift his head to look at the damage; he’d seen enough of his own insides in Hell.

There was a vague hope that his blood would break the demon trap and allow him to get away, but he knew it was impossible even as he thought it. Zagan had prepared for this.

There was no getting away, especially once the first spike was hammered through one of his feet, piercing shoe leather, flesh, and carpet as it was driven into the stone beneath. Xavier bit back another scream, only to give in as his father pinned his arm above his head and drove the second spike into his hand.

“A necessary precaution,” Zagan explained, moving around to repeat the process on Xavier’s other side, barely reacting to the scent of demonic flesh charred by iron. “To make things easier for both of us. Remember what I always used to tell you?”

The third and fourth spikes were driven into Xavier’s free hand and foot, rendering him not quite immobile, but significantly limiting his range of motion. He was left completely vulnerable to Zagan.

“Well?”

He turned toward his father. The demon was looking at him expectantly, warmly—a complete contrast to that cold smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes.

“The more you struggle,” Xavier began, breathing raggedly, “the more it will hurt.”

“That’s exactly right. Good boy.” Zagan bent to kiss his brow and set the hammer aside. “Now be a love and stay still for your papa while he works.”

“What are you going to do?” Asked in a voice too soft and timid to belong to a demon.

“I thought you might ask. You see, I needed to come up with an appropriate punishment.” Zagan reached into his abdominal cavity and tore out a chunk of his liver, placing it on the carpet beside him while his son howled in agony. The shock and blood loss weren’t enough to kill him, of course, but there would be a great deal of both before Zagan was done.

“It had to fit the crime, else how could the lesson be truly felt?” His stomach joined his liver, spilling its bloody contents as it hit the floor with a sickening plop.

Xavier hadn’t felt pain like this since Hell. He wondered for a moment if he was in Hell. That endless red sky and the ceiling of the church blurred together in his mind while the stone under his back became the rocky banks of that boiling river of blood. He heard a scream—or perhaps a thousand—but no longer registered it as his own.

When his father spoke, he heard it as only an echo.

“I mentioned taking your estate and your belongings but upon reflection, that wouldn’t be a practical solution to the problem. You could always acquire more, and really, what do I want with a bunch of wine and trinkets and land?” The other half of his liver followed, then his spleen and pancreas, all added to the growing pile of viscera.

Zagan turned to Xavier, whose screams had quieted to pained whimpers as he began coughing up torrents of blood. “No matter how you look at it, it would only be an inconvenience to us both. An inconvenience, not a punishment. That was when I realized that there was something I could take from you that would serve as an appropriate punishment.”

The old demon reached into Xavier’s body with both hands this time, ripping through sheet after sheet of connective tissue as he worked to tear out Xavier’s intestines. Messy work but very necessary, although he did find himself wishing he’d brought a blade to speed up the process. But that’s what happened when one was forced to move with haste; things were bound to be forgotten.

To Xavier, that process seemed to take hours. Perhaps it did. He couldn’t help but think it would’ve been kinder to just kill him.

His only comfort was that the shock setting in made his body go almost numb, a small mercy for which he gave profound thanks. It was liable to be the only one he got. He only wished he could go deaf as well, or better yet, fall into blessed unconsciousness so he wouldn’t have to listen to or feel the rending of his flesh.

More hopes he knew would be dashed.

Such was Zagan’s concentration on his task that he fell silent. Humans did have such a lot of parts, but he had gotten most of it. It would do.

He gathered the slippery mass in his hands, considering adding them to the pile before deciding to simply drop them on his son’s lap. They didn’t need to be removed entirely, just moved out of the way.

“Right,” he sighed, looking around at his handiwork while he gathered his thoughts. “Where was I? Ah, yes. Your punishment.”

Zagan scooted a bit closer and tenderly took Xavier’s face in his hands, smiling beatifically as he stroked his son’s cheeks and smeared that handsome face with blood. “I believe you’ve lived in poor dead Christian for quite long enough, my precious one. Don’t you?”

For the second time since this ordeal began, panic took hold of Xavier. Not just a trickle of it, but huge, violent waves that made his adrenaline surge and had him struggling against his restraints despite the burning pain of the iron.

Please, God, let him not have heard correctly. Surely it was the delirium, the blood loss making him think his father had said what Xavier thought he’d just said. Or if had said it, perhaps Xavier just didn’t understand his meaning. It could mean anything, everything. Too much. Was it to be his life, a return to Hell? Was it—

“Settle down, Xavier,” Zagan chided, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. “What did we say, hm? The more you struggle the more it will hurt, and this is going to hurt quite enough without you thrashing about like a landed fish. Settle.”

“Wh-what is?” Xavier’s voice was a raspy, choked sound, devoid of its usual elegance. For all that he struggled—or tried to, before pain and fatigue forced him to stillness—it was a battle to get out every single word. “Fath…father. What are y-you going…?”

“What am I going to do?”

At his son’s jerky nod, Zagan smiled and stroked his face again. “Just what I said. You’ve been living in Christian Deidrich’s body for far too long and it’s time for a change.”

“But w-what—”

“I’m going to take you out of Christian, Xavier. You will be removed from this vessel and placed into a new one.”

Xavier looked at this father in abject horror for a few silent, eternal moments before panic and adrenaline flooded back in with a vengeance.

He began to struggle to free himself in earnest as his father’s words and their full implications sank in. Whatever he’d suffered so far—gut-wrenching reminders of the past, the sear of iron, the removal of his organs—it would be nothing compared to what he knew awaited him now.

At this very moment, even the full weight of what it meant to lose Christian as his vessel couldn’t hold a candle to Xavier’s fear.

This reaction pleased Zagan immensely, and unlike before, he was perfectly happy to let Xavier wear himself out. In this weakened state it was all he’d manage to do, which would only make things easier once the real work began.

Besides, even if by some chance Xavier did tear the wounds around the spikes and freed himself, he was still inside the trap. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Zagan hummed to himself, giving his son’s cheek one last pat before getting to his feet.

One by one, he brought candelabras over to the altar. Not many remained after so many years of the church having been abandoned, but they were enough to give him the light he needed. The larger ones were placed around the perimeter of the trap and the smallest just inside. A single candlestick was placed beside Xavier.

Had he been able to, Xavier would’ve knocked that stupid candle over and set fire to the rug. Something his father probably would’ve considered if he wasn’t so obviously confident that it wouldn’t happen.

Xavier couldn’t deny that he was right to be. Already he was exhausted to the point of giving up. Physically, at least.

“Father…” he wheezed. “Plea…please…don’t—don’t do this to me…”

“Ahhh, I see we’ve moved from anger to bargaining,” Zagan chuckled, returning to his son’s side. “I understand, of course. A new face will be an adjustment after so many decades spent looking at the same reflection in the mirror, but don’t worry, my dear one. You’ll get used it.”

Xavier shook his head, swallowing back more tears. He didn’t want to get used to it. He wanted to remain in his body. No matter how mangled it was, it was his, and leaving it would mean suffering beyond measure in more ways than one.

“The spell…”

His father nodded patiently. “Yes, yes, I know. You locked yourself in. An excellent notion, truly. After all, one can never know who does and does not know an exorcism rite. No doubt it would have spoiled your fun if in the middle of a hunt, your quarry dispatched you back to Hell.”

Zagan stroked his hair again. “Pity that your good judgement should have to hurt you now.”

Tears began to flow freely again as Xavier tugged at his restraints with all the might he had left. It was precious little. “Fat-ther, please…please d-don’t…please…”

“Hush now. Begging won’t save you, Xavier.” Zagan picked up the bowl that until now had sat untouched beside the revolting mess of entrails. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered from the very fact that you’re able to be here, the church we are currently in is no longer consecrated ground. Faith left this place…” he shrugged, “a century ago, perhaps more. But despite that, there is one thing I’m so terribly curious to know.”

He removed the lid. “I wonder…despite the decades of absent devotion…if this water is still holy enough to hurt you.”

“N-nononono wait, don’t—!”

An awful steaming hiss drowned out his protests as Zagan slowly began pouring the bowl’s contents into Xavier’s abdominal cavity.

“You’re making it worse,” he said, raising his voice to make himself heard over the cacophony of tortured screams and howls of demonic pain.

His admonishment fell on deaf ears. The moment the first drop of holy water had touched his mutilated insides, Xavier had begun thrashing about in a desperate, mindless effort to escape from the torment.

Exhaustion had no hope of stilling his movements, even if those movements caused the water to splash and slosh about and cause even more pain. This was beyond the physical, beyond the human. Short of an exorcism this was the greatest suffering that could be inflicted on a demon, and Xavier had the great misfortune of knowing that was precisely what awaited him next.

He screamed, he sobbed, he begged his father to stop. At some point he even succeeded in tearing free of two of the spikes. But still the ordeal continued and would until the bowl was empty.

It would continue even when the bowl was empty, because for all that Xavier had moved about, a good deal of holy water remained on and inside of him. As long as it did, nothing would stop the screaming.

“Shhhh, darling, shhhh,” Zagan cooed at his son, pulling out the spikes that still restrained Xavier’s limbs so he could turn him on his side and empty out the water. It had completed its intended purpose and was thus no longer required.

He eased Xavier onto his back again and picked up the candlestick. “Right. I would very much like to say that’s the worst of it over, but we both know that’s not the case. Tell me, should I bother asking where you carved it?”

Although agonized groans and broken sobs had replaced blood-curdling screams, Xavier wasn’t in any condition to listen to his father, much less respond.

“I thought not. No matter. I have a fair idea which rite you used, and I believe that particular one calls for the inscription to be placed on the spine.”

At last, the true reason for the evisceration revealed.

Zagan brought the candle close to the gaping void that was Xavier’s torso, using its light to find exactly where the spell had been carved into the bone—a slightly easier task now that the holy water had rinsed out most of the blood.

“Ah, there it is.” Zagan tried to make out the symbols to confirm his suspicions. “What did I tell you?” he chuckled, setting aside the candlestick. “Predictable.”

Xavier had been left even weaker than before. His chest barely rose. His skin, already pale from loss of blood, looked gray and lifeless. There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t burning in agony. The dread and fear and grief he should have felt eighty-six years ago when the hangman’s noose had been placed around his neck fell upon him now, far more heavily than they would have then.

Still, he had to try just one more time.

With what little strength he had left, Xavier turned to his father. “Please,” he begged, the barely audible whisper ragged and frail. “Father. Please…please don-n’t. You don’t—don’t kn-now…” he gasped for breath, “…what you—you’re take…tak-king…”

There was a beat of silence during which Xavier thought, just for a second, his father looked apologetic.

“But I do,” Zagan murmured, taking Xavier’s bloody, tear-stained face in his hands. He stayed like that for several moments, studying his child’s features one last time. He loved this face. It gave him no pleasure to destroy it. “I know exactly what I’m taking. My beautiful, beautiful boy.”

He bent to place a tender kiss on Xavier’s forehead. “Don’t fret. The pain won’t last. You’ll still be beautiful, I promise. I could never take that from you. You’ll even look like your brother.” He kissed Xavier’s forehead again, his brow, his cheeks, allowing them both the indulgence of true affection for just a moment.

Perhaps it would offer some comfort in the days to come.

Sighing, Zagan took the candlestick again and made another examination of the spell his son had used to lock himself in. It was simple, but perfectly effective against exorcisms and other such attempts to dislodge a demon from their vessel.

The symbols themselves were spread across four vertebrae and, upon closer inspection, appeared to be burned into the bone rather than inscribed. He had no doubt the process had been rather painful; things like this always were.

He reached in and carefully tore the first vertebra from Xavier’s spine, ensuring he removed only bone and nothing else.

Painful, yes, but not as painful as its reversal. Not in his hands.

Zagan recited a small incantation under his breath, brushing his thumb back and forth over the symbols as if merely rubbing away a bit of dust. With every swipe the symbols grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared altogether, leaving behind nothing but clean, unmarred bone.

He held it up to the candlelight and examined it again. Pleased, he tossed it away and pulled out the next one.

Xavier, no longer strong enough to scream, could only groan and sob as his father ripped yet more parts out of his body, overwhelmed by fear and pain.

But there was another sensation as well; an odd, supernatural pull somewhere deep inside his being. It seemed to exist independently of the pain, and had nothing to do with what was happening to him physically.

It did, however, have everything to do with what was happening to him magically. This body, having been technically dead for so many decades, was dying again. In all reality it had already died again, and as his father methodically did away with his lock, Xavier’s hold inside his vessel began to loosen.

By the time the last vertebra was torn from his spine and the symbols on it erased, that hold was all but nonexistent.

“There we are,” said Zagan, sighing again as he smiled to himself. “Now the real work begins.”

Even if he’d been inclined to bother with an exorcism, it was no longer necessary. Given enough time Xavier would be forced to leave Christian’s body on his own, but Zagan wasn’t inclined to wait.

Instead, he reached into his son’s abdominal cavity one last time, thrusting through dead flesh and fractured bone and into the very core of him, physical and metaphysical, feeling around until his hand closed around what he sought.

Making sure to maintain an iron grip on his prize, Zagan ripped Xavier free from what remained of his moorings. When Zagan’s hand emerged, bloody and singed, it held a cloud of oily black smoke that crackled with electricity.

There were no anguished screams to mark this final parting, no sobs or desperate pleas to echo off the stone.

There was only the burnt out, mutilated husk of a body, the scent of sulfur, and a cloud of oily black smoke.

Zagan smiled at the smoke and released it, leaving it free but still stuck inside the demon trap, before pushing the husk out of the way to give himself more room to work.

What came next would require every last ounce of his will and concentration. This was magic he did not inherently possess, and if he could not see his vision clearly, if he could not believe in it wholly, it would not bear fruit.

He closed his eyes, steeling his will as he began to draw every bit of energy in the room outside his own toward him, no matter how small. The remnants of Xavier’s emotion, the electricity of a demon in true form, the lifeforce of the plants surrounding the church—all were taken and absorbed.

Even the candles were drawn in, extinguishing themselves one by one as Zagan pulled their heat and energy close, inserting his will and chanting ancient magic to manipulate the mass of energy to his whim.

And there, in the middle of the demon trap, it slowly began to take form. A single point of light that pulsed and grew as yet more light surrounded and encased it, becoming a womb for an old demon’s creation.

With every pulse, the air shimmered as it regained its charge, making Zagan’s skin prickle and burn to the point of pain. But still he did not buckle, digging even deeper and giving even more of himself as he watched the light become something at once both liquid and solid, something that elongated and molded itself until it resembled a human body.

Almost done.

He looked up at where the cloud of smoke hovered above his head. It would be cleaner to do it in one fell swoop. Faster. Even for a being as old as he was, keeping this level of concentration took its toll. Mere seconds could be the difference between success and miserable failure.

The new vessel was almost complete; the moment it was, he would draw Xavier into it and seal him inside. He had to move quickly, but gingerly, with the precision of a surgeon.

Zagan took a deep breath. Clenching one hand as tightly as he could to hold his creation in place, he used the other to draw his child down and guide him into his new vessel.

A different kind of light began emanating from the body as it was slowly given life. Zagan grit his teeth against the strain as it grew in strength, as he was pushed to the very edge of his limits by the effort of controlling so much raw energy.

No sooner had the last wisp of black smoke disappeared from view than the light burned out with enough force to shatter every window in the crumbling church.

Zagan fell back, utterly exhausted but brimming with triumphant hubris as he gazed upon his creation. His vision, made flesh.

It was perfect.

Zagan spent a few moments catching his breath and recuperating some of his strength, after which he got to his feet to gather himself. He adjusted his sleeves and went to retrieve his coat, brushing off bits of colored glass before slipping it back on. He placed the bowl and the candlestick back on their table, took a piece of glass and sliced through the carpet, breaking the demon trap.

And when he finally approached the unconscious, supine body that now belonged to Xavier, and watched as he drew his first breath, Zagan bent to place a kiss on his forehead.

“Perhaps now you’ll learn,” he whispered. “My beautiful boy.”

A rustle of wings, and Xavier was left alone in the darkness.

#Waiting for a Tuesday self para

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