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jackactuallywrites · 3 months ago

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All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x You

Rating: PG, no smut or violence

Warnings: You’re getting stalked and hacked! Life pro tip: don’t put random USBs in your computer ;)

Summary: A cat gets dumped at your front door and a strange email gets dumped in your inbox. Who could it possibly be?

Notes: Yes you’re using Firefox because it’s the BEST

Word Count: 1,904

ao3 link

Someone was watching you.

You couldn't tell whether it was all in your head; logic and the power of chance dictated that it was, but there was that tiny little whisper of doubt in the back of your mind. One CCTV turning to follow you down the street was a coincidence, and you could argue that for the next half dozen, but not for every single one on the route from your work to your home. You couldn't remember when it started, but you'd first noticed it in the industrial estate when you'd taken another look for that skinny cat. The CCTV had practically swivelled all the way around, centring in on you, too overt to even pretend it was scanning the street. That had made sense. You'd walked onto some sort of military base; security on the old buildings might have been upped. The one after it wasn't too unusual either; undoubtedly, you looked pretty suspicious coming out of the disused alleyway. But every single camera after that, each one swivelling to watch you for long enough for you to come in range of the next one?

Whatever you'd done to get onto the radar of the higher-ups was beyond you. Perhaps it was your little foray into closed-off territory, but you'd reassured yourself that it was a one-off. They'd see that, and then they'd leave you alone. You hoped.

At any rate, you had more important things to do.

Saturday was Caturday, and that meant you had to check all the applications that had come in, go through them, and set up meetings for the applicants to meet the cats. Then, you had to walk over to the cattery and see what new cats had been brought in or surrendered, take their pictures, and then update the website, as well as all the updates from the successful adoptions that had happened over the week.

Your last task of the day was to open the post, finding your usual selection of postcards from adopters and fosterers, as well as a few thank you cards. Those went up on your desk, where you took your cards to display around your workspace and found the USB sitting on your desk. Usually, your colleagues sent you new pictures by email, but you had just assumed that they'd chosen a new method, perhaps one that would have an archive of pictures that were easier to look back at. It did have a cute drawing of a cat on it, and when you plugged it into your computer, it was full of cat pictures. You didn't recognise any of them; they were strays, by the look of it. Regardless, you didn't end up having enough time to click through them all; your day ended up swallowed by working through all the applications and scheduling various check-ups on all the cats. By the time you got back to your desk, it was already the end of the day, so you did the usual thing and took the USB stick home with you to work on it from home.

You'd noticed that your screen had flickered a little when you'd put it in, and the command box popped up for half a second, but that wasn't so unusual; the laptop was half a decade old at this point. That kept you occupied until you almost fell asleep on the sofa, at which point you decided to call it a day.

The next morning wasn't any less bizarre; in fact, it was perhaps more so.

Your usual morning routine had been interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, and when you'd gone to investigate, begrudging having to put actual clothes on, all you found was a box. You hadn't ordered anything that you could recall, but the women at the rescue liked to get each other little gifts, with that being your initial assumption. Of course, there was the fact that the cardboard box was roughly the size of a microwave. And the fact that it had air holes poked in the side. Not to mention the large block letters scrawled on top, perhaps the biggest clue of all as to what was inside.

'CAT.'

They had to be joking. Someone had left a cat on your doorstep? You were used to that at work, sure; you worked in a cat rescue, it was only natural for people to drop cats off in all manner of boxes and even bags, but this was your front door. You couldn't think of anyone who knew your address that would drop a cat off without at least texting you. Granted, you didn't have your phone. You were still irritated about that; what kind of man took someone's phone? Regardless, there were other things for you to worry about now.

Gingerly, you picked up the box, making sure to support the bottom as you brought it back into your home. There wasn't a holding crate like there was at the rescue, nor was there any protective gear. At least the cat inside didn't sound angry. It was worth the risk.

Your bathroom would be the safest place to open the box; it was the smallest room, with ample access to water in case you needed to clean, which was likely.

You set the box down on the floor, pushing the door closed with your foot. Then, you gingerly pulled the cardboard flap open. As labelled, there was a cat inside. A small, skinny little thing, white and grey, with stains— hang on, you knew this cat. The little bastard that had gotten you caught trespassing on a military base—sans the plastic ring around its neck. And now it was here? It still didn't look particularly afraid of you here, even if it was giving you a reproachful look, curled up in the furthest corner of the box. Its tail was still smooth, its ears slightly back but not completely flattened. You could risk holding out a hand toward it, your fingertips reaching out so it could smell you. It may not have been thrilled by the fact that it had now lost its freedom, but it wasn't aggressive by any means. Nor did it seem particularly interested in you, letting you boop its nose without flinching. It just watched you carefully as you stroked its head, just silent and curious.

You had another problem now. How were you supposed to leave your apartment when you had a new cat to take care of? You already knew you couldn't take it to the shelter; it was overcrowded as it was, but you weren't about to leave it alone in your house. For the time being, at least, you would be working from home.

First things first, you'd have to send an email into work, so that was what you'd do. There wasn't too much trouble the cat could get into, so you left it in the bathroom to get acclimatised. Thankfully, your workspace was right across from the bathroom, so you could keep an eye on the door from your desk. Already, there were emails waiting for you the second you turned your laptop on. They were easy enough to skim through, mostly junk; offers from shops you were sure you'd already unsubscribed from, but one caught your attention, having arrived just a few minutes ago.

'CAT.'

If it was a spam email, it worked well enough for you to click on it, even though '[email protected]' seemed like the fakest address imaginable. Still, you clicked.

'Subject: CAT

Is the cat okay?'

That was a little creepy. Then again, maybe someone had anonymously donated a cat, and was too ashamed to reveal their identity. It wasn't completely beyond the realm of possibility, even if it was strange. So, you replied.

'Subject: CAT

Yes. Who is this?'

The response pinged into your inbox quickly,

'Subject: CAT

Take care of Soap.'

Who on Earth was Soap? Was that the cat? It looked far too unclean to have such a name, but who were you to argue with a mysterious stranger. Soap it was.

With that taken care of, your next priority was to get in some sort of supplies for Soap. You clicked to send a new email, but the light of your laptop flicked on. You instinctively checked to see if you'd accidentally opened a program, but the only thing open on your computer was your email. You then hit ctrl-alt-delete, but there wasn't any other application open there either. The camera light shone mockingly, and you frowned at it, before quickly opening up Firefox and typing in 'Camera light on laptop on, no program using it.'

Naturally, Microsoft was the first result, so you scrolled through the forum and read through the advice. Already, you were bored, but you still took on the suggestions. First on the list was the classic. 'Turn it off and on again.' You pressed the power button, then sat back and waited for the laptop to turn off. After a moment, it did, the light switching off and the screen going dark. You waited ten seconds, then switched it back on.

Victory! The light was off once more, so it must have been some strange hardware bug. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. You decided the easiest thing to do was to run a virus scan, so you left the laptop to it while you went to check on Soap.

Soap had made himself quite comfortable in the bathroom sink, curled up underneath the tap. You took the opportunity to examine the cardboard box, checking to see if there were any supplies that had been stashed in a corner.

At the back end, right where Soap had been curled up, was a phone. Your phone! Of course it would turn up after you'd ordered a replacement. At least there was still enough time to cancel that. Oh, how you'd missed your phone. You couldn't remember how to live without it; the last few days had been like trying to live without an arm. Surprisingly, it was fully charged, and everything on it was still intact. So that military man hadn't just mugged you. The mere memory of those cold green eyes unsettled you, and then it clicked. He had your phone. He'd put it in a box with the cat you'd been chasing and left both at your front door. He knew where you lived.

You could feel the chill down your spine as you scrambled to your feet and shot back over to the laptop, gears turning in your mind as you sent another email.

'Subject: CAT

Are you stalking me?'

It wasn't subtle, but you were too freaked out to play detective. The reply came in quickly.

'Subject: You

:-)'

You'd never considered a smiley face to be scary, but now it was fucking terrifying. Another email came in, and you clicked with trembling fingers,

'Subject: You

Relax. Just needed good home for Soap. Not going to hurt you.'

The email did little to reassure you. When did anyone ever admit they were planning on going to hurt someone? You chewed your nails, stomach twisting as you typed,

'Subject: You

Who are you?'

It was a shot in the dark, but maybe a Good Samaritan would give up his name. Another notification popped up.

'Subject: Me

Ghost.'

#jack writes #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod fic #simon ghost x reader

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year ago

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Would anyone like to hear about my Fun New Tumblr Glitch?

This is my help desk ticket, put in around 10:30 PM

I hit post limit earlier today, and decided to simply fill up my queue to 1000 and wait for it to reset for tomorrow. However, the number in my queue keeps going down, and the suggestion from the FAQ, that failed posts would simply return to my drafts, isn't playing out; the drafts number stays static even when the queue number goes down, and I can see that the most recent post in the queue HAS changed. It was earlier a Pride Month post about a burger king ad, and it is now a short chat-format post about The Mandalorian. The queue appears to have eaten about fifteen posts like this today.

In the twenty minutes after, sending the ticket, it ate the Mando post.

Except I kept a tab open this time, having opened a post preview, and it is. Insane

It got posted. To private? I don't know how to access my private posts without already having a link? So the dozen-plus from the last six hours? No idea where they are now. How do I locate them.

All four views were showing "can rabbis have kids" from about 6:30 PM as my most recent until midnight, when I could start posting again. The missing Mando post, in private, was showing as being posted May 11th, presumably the date I first drafted it.

I gave tumblr the updated details and my primary worries, hopefully the additional information will help. I can confirm that, now, after midnight, the eaten posts are still showing as private, but not as private posts.

Rather, if you go in to edit, they reveal themselves as preview posts (if you go to the three dots and hit preview on a post that's in queue/drafts), because they still have the Five Options instead of just save privately/publicly.

This means that the posts weren't actually posted to private. They just... remained as a post preview/draft, except they are only viewable with the links; they are not in my drafts, back in my queue, or on my blog as actual posts.

I still don't know how to find the dozen or so posts that I lost before I realized what was happening, since they haven't magically reappeared in my drafts (I checked the May 11th location in my drafts and the aforementioned Mando post preview isn't there).

We'll see?

#tumblr #weird glitches #I'm not putting this on tumblr's immediate shoulders because I don't think this is a problem that could be anticipated #both it happening and someone NOTICING it happening #personal

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team-heavenly · 11 months ago

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Chapter 24 - The Jewel of Surrounded Sea

Or rather... *clears throat, checks random number generator*

Spoilers: You're A Human

WOW, WAY TO BE BEHIND THE TIMES, PAL. WE BEEN K N E W

This one is going to be like a dozen parts if I don't break it up, so this isn't the entirety of the Manaphy arc. My justification: 1) the main story does this too (ex: the guild expedition is over several chapters), 2) I've kept you guys waiting long enough, and 3) I'm the mod so I do what I want lol

It's an ordinary day around the ordinary Nautical Cottage with ordinary weather and another ordinary list of jobs to tackle... or is it?

"The Questionable Hut?" we ask, unknowingly signing up to go find it somewhere 20,000 leagues under the sea.

Um, yeah that sounds exciting! I'm sure we'll find... uh, a lot of permafrost and stuff... Yeaaahhhh 🎉

...Do they really? How is that thing still standing?!

But what kind of exploration team would we be, passing up the opportunity to check out a place in stasis for over 10,000 years? So naturally, we pick up the torch and make our way over.

Saaaay, this isn't the ocean...! (Also yes, if you're wondering-

(-this was a one-room floor.)

If you would kindly cast your eyes to the blue star below and follow the numbers and colors (yellow, red, green, purple):

LITERALLY if I had gone right instead of left, I would have found the stairs in no time flat without exploring the entire FREAKING FLOOR.

Also I guess this was the first time I picked up a Stun Seed in the wild?! If that tells you anything about the item distribution in this randomizer 💀

Ngl, this one made me pause for a second because it felt like Celebi was talking to me directly about my mental health. God, I love her :')

Speaking of, here's an updated look at her moveset. She's a little low PP-wise, but this combination of moves is pretty stellar! And, as you can see, I linked the first two for maximum effect. It RULED in Monster Houses!

I say this like there wasn't a two-room monster house on this very floor with Andrea in the back, unable to help with Blizzard, while getting our sh*t rocked by Agility, Sandstorm, everyone getting frozen, and the Intimidator IQ skill. I still don't know how we got out of that one alive.

Out of sheer curiosity on my part: what do you all call this kind of floor layout? For some reason, my brain has resorted to calling it a "maze floor" even though this is... literally the opposite of that. What would make more sense? A crossroads floor? A labyrinth floor? Would love to hear your thoughts!

So we arrive at the final floor, pick up our three Deluxe Boxes, and then...

Proceed to kidnap an unborn child. As you do.

Right on cue, we begin to hear some suspect wobbling coming from the nest.

:O!

I'll be honest, I didn't think too hard (if at all) about who I wanted Manaphy to be. Something cute? Something Legendary? Something completely off the cuff?

But as soon as I laid eyes on this little guy, I knew... I didn't want it any other way.

PRAISE BE TO LORD ARCEUS FOR BLESSING US WITH THIS PRECIOUS CHILD!!

...Although it does make all the talk about him being a rare, strange Pokémon kind of hilarious 😂

Amazing, that's 30 images and this is a perfect segway to Part 2.

#pmd explorers #pokemon mystery dungeon #randomizer #post game #the jewel of surrounded sea #chapter 24

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chubbology · 4 years ago

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Overindulged

prompt: feeder boyfriend quits his job and balloons as fat as his feedee/feeder girlfriend

He drove his sleek BMW up his driveway and into the middle garage just as dusk settled into night. He’d stayed overtime at work again, and to make it up to his girlfriend, three dozen fresh assorted donuts sat in the passenger seat.

Sure enough, immediately upon opening the back door with his stack of boxes, he heard her voice: “Late.”

“It’s the end of the month,” he said. “What do you expect? Brought you something though, so don’t be mad. Come in here.”

He set the boxes down on the granite island, then waited, sucking in a breath. His pupils dilated as his favorite person in the world waddled through the wide archway leading into the kitchen. After giving him a pout, she pulled the boxes toward her with arms that hung, at their heaviest, over half a foot with fat.

She was a beautiful, enormous woman. He had met her on a plane three years ago on a business trip to Paris. She’d pulled him into conversation like a warm whirlpool, and he’d listened in awe to her life story: miserable wife of a banker to a happily divorced entrepreneur, flying first class on her own dime.

With a smug, knowing smile, she talked about how she used to be skinny for her ex’s sake and now was free. He couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over her blatantly overweight body. Thighs pressing firm on either armrest of the wide seat, bust prominent and heavy, belly button deep and visible through her dress.

Bad news is, she’d concluded, I just settled a messy lawsuit that lost me my career and nearly bankrupted me. But she shrugged, as if such was life. I’m taking my last-hurrah vacation until I have no choice but to eat tiny, unsatisfying meals again.

He decided that couldn’t come to pass, so he spent as much time with her outside his business obligations as he could, taking her to meal after meal, falling in love as she ate to her heart’s content and shamelessly talked about how she’d rather fallen in love with gaining weight. It titillated and empowered her. By the end of their two week stay in Paris, she was twelve pounds bigger and he had invited her to live with him for a while as she looked for a new career path. She accepted.

Three years later, she’d found her calling without having to leave his luxurious, spacious home. Doing what she loved.

She was almost four hundred and fifty pounds now, last he was updated. She always wore leggings that clung to every lump and bulge of cellulite, and she liked to tease him by wearing crop tops, letting her massive belly and side rolls hang out and wobble as they pleased.

He watched with soft eyes as she stuffed herself with four jelly-filled doughnuts. Between bites she said, “These long hours at your soulless job are no good. My fans want to see more of you.” More eating. “The last time you fed me on camera was weeks ago!”

She gave him an imploring look as she ate a fifth doughnut. Boston creme. Her face, once conventionally pretty, now had a sexy overindulged look. She’d lost her jawline to additional chins and neck fat, and her round, fatty cheeks quivered as she chewed. Even before she finished the fifth doughnut, she picked up a sixth. “And don’t think they haven’t noticed that little tummy you have now.”

“What?” He looked down at himself, blushing at how his tie sat out a bit on slightly stretched white buttons.

Before he could say anything, she pushed a chocolate doughnut in his hand. “I know people willing to pay a pretty petty to see you chunk out.” She smirked. “Pop a couple of those buttons.”

He laughed dismissively, but as he ate the doughnut, he contemplated the press of his new chub against his shirt. His pants felt a little tight in the ass, too, now that he thought about it. What if? he thought.

Suddenly, he found himself admitting: “I’ve been thinking of quitting.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“I want to spend more time with you,” he explained. He hadn’t meant to talk about it now, but here he was. Out of nervousness, he pulled one of the boxes toward himself and picked another doughnut, this one caving in under its sprinkles. He took a heavenly bite. “I have plenty of money saved and invested to take care of both of us for a long time. I just don’t see why I…”

She waddled over to his side of the island and took his free hand. “You know I’d support you.” Then she pulled him closer, into a smiling kiss. “I’ll support you real good.”

Before his two week notice even ended, he was eight pounds heavier, and he relished how his coworkers’ eyes lingered on his burgeoning waistline. Soon, his tummy was pushing over his pants. His chest felt thicker. He felt his ass spread wider when he sat down. He ate desserts all the time, and his girlfriend lavished him with attention (food) at every opportunity when he was home, encouraging him to eat in amounts he’d never let himself eat before. She started filming - with his consent, as always - the development of his chubbing up. Her fans loved him even more than they already did, compliments coming in faster than he could read them.

One month into being an unemployed man, she stuffed him on camera until one of his shirt buttons popped off. The experience was more of a revelation for him than even becoming officially overweight; that night, after she went to sleep, he got out of bed, squeezed into an old pair of slacks that barely fit him, then gorged himself in the kitchen until he gasped at the relief of his ass seam tearing open, unable to accommodate his butt, which everyone online said was growing gorgeously fat. His heart fluttered just thinking about it, and he hoped his ass kept growing.

It did.

“I admit, I never thought you’d be this much of a pear,” his girlfriend told him, six months into his steady ballooning. They were admiring his progress in the large bathroom mirror. He may have looked small relative to his partner’s morbid obesity, but somehow, they were both more fascinated with his growth at the moment. She outlined his bottom heavy figure with her hands. Fat had indeed stored most eagerly in his ass, thighs, and hips. His belly drooped soft and wide.

“I love it,” she said. “Love everything about you.” But then something else came into her expression. “Except how you’ve stopped picking up after yourself.”

He swallowed, and said honestly, “Sorry. I know I’m getting lazier.”

“We’ll have to hire a maid.” She grinned wickedly. “Or do two pigs deserve to roll in their sty?”

A year into living on his passive income and her subscribers, the couple had not yet hired any cleaning services, and his country club house was...well. Not trashed, but messy and disorganized. She blamed the five pounds she’d lost over the past month on having to constantly throw his trash away. She punished him by making him stand while drinking a whole liter of full-sugar soda. Since he’d developed a strong distaste for any physical effort as he sunk deeper into obesity, he grumbled the whole time. When he finally fell back on the couch, she sat too. Together, they took up most of it. But while she looked perfectly composed, he was panting raggedly, slightly sweaty, a food stain on his pants.

“Look.” She reached out and held his chubby wrist. “I can tell that the fatter you get, the more your natural inclination is to be a pig.” She spoke with total matter-of-factness. As if the emergence of his inner pig was unsurprising and inevitable. “It’s not uncommon in men - that urge to oink and eat as a way of life. But we share this space. I help pay off this house. Please throw away your take out containers.”

Then she added, at his long-suffering sigh, “I’ll reward you.”

He met her gaze. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

This time, there were no cameras. There was just her, sitting on one side of their king bed and him on the other, breathing heavy, taking her reward one bite at a time.

Everywhere in their bed were containers and packages and napkins and soda bottles. He had eaten mexican and noodles and burgers and fries. He’d eaten candy bars and sundaes and milkshakes and chunky cookies. He was so full he could feel the skin of his belly stretching. He could practically feel the skin of his thighs stretching, as if they were filling up heavier with fat right then, as he was determinedly overfed. He swallowed another bite of greasy cheeseburger.

“Keep going. I can tell you're slowing down, but I’ll have none of that yet. I want to see progress from you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Do you want to feel the ecstasy of squeezing through a doorframe or are you going to plateau at being just fat?”

He let out a breathy moan as he ate another bite of the cheeseburger. His girlfriend knew him too well. She knew he liked the new challenges being big was causing him. She knew it turned him on that he sat so much fatter in his own car, belly pressing against everything, ass barely fitting at all. She knew his hands had begun cupping his hips as a half-unconscious habit, admiring his own width.

He liked how his thighs had to push past each other, jiggling every time. He even liked when he accidentally bumped into things, because it was a hot reminder that he wasn’t the same. He was like her now. He was fat. He was a pig. He wanted to eat and get so big he could barely even waddle. He wanted to squeeze through doorways. He wanted to get stuck.

“I want everything,” he said. And she smiled, temporarily pleased.

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #female feeder #male gainer

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

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breaking the internet T.H.

summary : tom and reader are expecting a baby, and finally make it public. a few problems occur.. and the fans break the internet (requested)

wc: 1100

–

You were in the middle of your second trimester. You and Tom had kept it on the low, only close friends and family knowing about the baby Holland that was on the way. But now, your bump was showing greatly, and it was only a matter of time before paparazzi would find out and post pictures everywhere.

So, you both took the secrecy to your advantage, deciding you would announce when you felt it was the right time.

"Love, do you need anything?" Tom asked from his spot beside you.

The two of you were cuddling in bed, watching movies for the day. Tom was going downstairs for some snacks and water, knowing to ask for any new cravings that might pop out of the blue.

"Pickles, please? Peanut butter, too?" You asked with a shy but cheeky smile.

"Of course, angel," Tom said. He kissed your forehead, then your growing stomach, before getting up and making his way downstairs.

Tom had memorized which foods to avoid, knowing your cravings change more frequently then ever before and knowing which foods made you sick to your stomach. He had grabbed snacks he was sure you wouldn't be sick from, though he was fairly certain this hormonal food stage would be ending soon.

When he got back, you were on your phone. He set the tray down on the nightstand before getting in next to you, his hands resting on your stomach and moving you slightly so you could sit comfortably together.

"Whatcha lookin' at, hun?" he asked.

"Harry just sent me the pictures from our pregnancy photo-shoot we did last week," you smiled, giggling lightly.

"Oh, let me see them?" He asked.

You moved your phone so both of you had a clear view of the screen. You had scrolled through all the pictures, Tom commenting on which were his favorites and what parts he liked most.

"I was thinking," you said. "We could use these to... tell your fans?"

Tom turned to look at you, softly replying. "Really?"

You nodded with a smile. "It'd be better if they find out this way than... y'know?"

"Yeah- yeah. When do you wanna do it?"

"Right now?" You said with another cheeky smile.

Tom nodded his head, grabbing his phone off of the nightstand and asking you to send him some pictures.

"Are we posting different ones?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said. "Here, lemme do it, so you don't mess anything up," you giggled, ruffling his hair playfully.

"Yeah, yeah," Tom laughed, blushing lightly.

When you returned the phone to him, the post was ready and waiting to be posted, as was yours.

"Ready?" he asked, wrapped an arm around you.

"Ready," you confirmed.

Both of you said 'go!' simultaneously, and you each hit the post button, smiling.

"Let's just keep them off for now," you said.

"Yeah, we can check in a couple hours?"

"Mhmm."

***

"Babe!" Tom said, running back into the room excitedly. "Let's check now!!"

"Okay, you goof. C'mere,: you motioned him to sit next to you in the bed again.

Sitting down, you opened his Instagram first. The caption (which you had made), was quite obvious, if the pictures didn't give it away. The post read, "Baby Holland, under construction..🤍".

Dozens of Tom's cast-mates had given their congratulatory messages in the comments, some even texting him in the direct messages and other's deciding to text his actual phone number. The post was up to twelve million likes already, the comments at least half that number. Your post had fifteen million, and thousands more comments then Tom. No doubt, your fanbase would be freaking out for the next couple months, expecting more baby content.

Fan's were commenting so many different things, some along the lines of 'Tom's a dad!' or 'Mommy Y/N!!!! My HEARTTTT🤍" and other fan reactions like that, some even including your ship name.

"Holy fuck, there's so many messages," Tom said.

Just then, the Instagram app, as well as Twitter, had kicked you both out. When you tried to reopen it, it just kicked you out again.

"What just happened?" you said.

"I don't- I don't know," Tom admitted.

Just then, Harry, Tom's brother, had called Tom.

"Yes?" Tom said, answering.

"Yeah, uhm, The Brother's Trust website is down."

"What? Why?" Tom asked.

You looked at him questioningly, silently asking what he had just been informed. He held up a finger, a silent 'in a minute.' You nodded, trying to open your social media apps again, but to no prevail.

"Too many people are on it at once."

"What? Why would tha-"

"Tom, your pregnancy announcement just broke the fucking internet. We're trying to get things back up."

"Oh shit," Tom whispered. "Alright, thanks for telling me."

"Yeah, yeah. I can't use Instagram now, so-"

"Wait you can't use it either?" Tom said. "It's kicked me and Y/N out whenever we've tried. Twitter's done the same."

"I think you broke the internet, Tom."

Tom laughed sarcastically, before he realized Harry was being serious. "Wait, what? You're not joking? Can that actually happen?"

"Yeah, One Direction's fans have done it countless times."

"Alright, alright. I've gotta go, I'll call you later," he said, and with a goodbye from Harry, he hung up the phone.

"What was that about, babe?" You asked.

"We- uhm.." Tom was stuttering. "We broke the internet," he confessed timidly.

"What?"

"Yeah, apparently that can happen? I don't know, but Twitter and Instagram are down, and so is the Brother's Trust website."

"Holy shit," you whispered. "Holy shit!" You started giggling.

You were hugging Tom, who had started laughing too. When you pulled apart, Tom had a dopey smile on his face, and you couldn't stop giggling.

"Might want to expect quite a few messages on your phone, Tommy."

"ME? You're the pregnant one!" He chuckled. "You should expect it too."

"Yeah, yeah," You laughed. "I love you."

"I love you too, angel," he said, giving you a silly kiss.

*** "Thomas!" Harrison said, slamming the door to his best friend's house.

"What?" Tom said, running into the room.

"Why'd you break the fucking internet?" Harrison whined.

You had come from the room Tom had just run out of, giggling and rubbing Tom's back affectionately.

"I'm sure the people are working on fixing things right now, H," You said.

"It's been hours! I need to stay updated with my games!" He whined again.

Tom and you exchanged glances before chuckling lightly. Tom had made his way over, opening the front door while talking to Harrison.

"You're gonna be perfectly fine without a few game scores," Tom said. "Now, have a good night. I am going to spend it," he had subtly moved Harrison to the front porch. "With my lovely, and might I mention pregnant, wife."

You had giggled, waving a goodbye as Tom closed the door. He turned around to look at you, before laughing and wrapping an arm around your waist, kissing your forehead.

"Ah the internet."

"Too bad we broke it," you giggled again.

#tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #dad!tom #dad!tom holland #tom holland fluff #husband!tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x ag!reader

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 4 years ago

Text

Chaconne: Part 2 (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: After auditioning for who is often considered to be the world’s scariest conductor, you begin working for Agatha Harkness and the Manhattan Symphony Orchestra.

Word Count: 4.9K

Link: Dvorak’s New World Symphony: Movement 4 (Performed by the Vienna Philharmonic)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGdtkUiKaA8

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m back with part two of Chaconne. I’ve included another link to the fourth movement of Dvorak in case anyone would like to listen, (it’s one of my favorite recordings and I definitely recommend it) but if classical music isn’t your jam I understand. Also, I would like to warn this is going to be major slow burn, but I promise there is a light at the end of the tunnel...eventually. Part 3 should be uploaded in a few days! I hope all of you enjoy it, and as always please feel free to leave a comment :) Oh! Also I think I’m going to make a taglist for this story, so if you would like to be added just comment or send me a message.

A week later marked the first symphony rehearsal of the season. You had barely seen Agatha all day. The woman was running from meeting to meeting with investors and the board so she had given you small tasks to complete in her absence. You were busy rearranging the small personal music library she kept in her office when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” You called out as you began sorting through the Baroque Era.

The door opened a moment later and you were glancing at a few different scores when you heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, you saw Wanda Maximoff standing in the doorway.

“Well hello there,” Wanda drawled out, clearly looking surprised. It took you a second to wonder why until you realized you were in Agatha’s office. “You’re not Agatha.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “No...um, no I’m not. I’m Agatha’s new assistant, Y/N.”

Wanda gave you a curious glance. “Her assistant,” she mused, taking a step further into the office. “Does she treat you well?”

You shrugged. “She feeds me a few times a day, buys me coffee. It could be a lot worse.”

Wanda chuckled. “Well it is very nice to meet you. I’m Wanda Maximoff.”

“I know who you are,” You blurted out before realizing how creepy that may have sounded. Glancing at Wanda, you were relieved that she seemed more amused than anything else. “I mean, it’s such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Maximoff. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

“Call me Wanda,” The pianist insisted. “You’re sweet. I’m surprised Agatha hasn’t had you running for the hills.”

You felt strangely defensive over the criticism regarding Agatha. “She really isn’t bad. I’m learning so much from her.”

Wanda looked surprised but smiled nonetheless. “You’re a very sweet girl, aren’t you? Do you know when Agatha will be back?”

“Um...” You trailed off and tried to remember when Agatha said she would be done. “It might be a while.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” Wanda said confidently, taking a seat in a leather chair. “I can keep you company.”

So you spent the next half hour sorting through music. At some point Wanda had offered to assist you, and although you assured her you were fine, she insisted. Which is how you found yourself discussing your favorite eras of music with one of your favorite musicians.

“Well isn’t this cozy,” Agatha’s voice rang out from the doorway causing you to jump.

The conductor had a scowl on her face and you could practically see the anger seething out of her. Wanda, on the other hand, smiled brightly at Agatha. “Agatha, so lovely to see you again. I was just getting to know your assistant. She’s a delight.”

Agatha glared at the woman, before giving you a quick once over. “Of course she is. What are you doing in my office, Maximoff? We aren’t rehearsing with you until next week.”

Wanda shrugged, not phased by the other woman’s attitude. “I thought I would stop by to catch up. It’s been a while since we’ve worked together.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that. When did Agatha and Wanda work together? Agatha certainly had a lot of negative thoughts regarding the younger woman, so it would make sense that they had worked together at some point. You were just surprised Agatha never brought it up during one of her many long ‘Maximoff Rants.’

“I’m very busy,” Agatha replied, appearing to grow angrier with every word that came out of the red head’s mouth. “Right, dear?”

At first you wondered who she was talking to, until you noticed the pointed look she was giving you. You offered Wanda a polite smile before slowly heading over towards your boss. “Of course, Miss Harkness. You have to leave for your meeting with potential new investors and then we have to discuss new programs and publicity posters before rehearsal this evening.”

“I see,” Wanda was giving both of you a look that suggested she knew you were lying. “Well I should be on my way then. Lovely seeing you again Agatha, and it was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” she said sweetly as she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze on her way out of the office.

Once she was gone, Agatha all but slammed the door shut and your eyes widened at how angry she appeared.

“What did she say to you?” Agatha asked curiously eyeing you.

You shrugged, because Wanda didn’t really say anything to you. At least not anything important. “Nothing really. She asked who I was, insisted she wanted to wait for you to come back, and then she offered to help me sort through the music.”

“I didn’t realize the work I gave you was so complex it required a second set of hands,” Agatha spat out as she slowly moved closer to you, and you wondered what you said to get that reaction.

“It wasn’t,” you argued, feeling your temper grow and getting more flustered as Agatha moved even closer to you. “She was just being nice.”

Agatha huffed and stalked back to her desk. “Fine. She was just being nice. Now no more talk of Maximoff. I’m starting to get a migraine.”

“I’ll go get you some tea,” You offered, as you had become more familiar with the conductor’s frequent stress migraines.

Agatha merely nodded and began sorting through her scores for rehearsal and you set off to brew some tea in the kitchen. You brushed off her strange behavior as the anger that came with seeing Wanda Maximoff.

The rest of the afternoon passed by smoothly. Agatha eventually told you to go home for a few hours despite your protests to stay. She was still a tad bit grumpy from her run in with Wanda, so she all but shoved you out the door and said if she saw you back here before 6:00 that she would make sure it would be your last time attending rehearsal.

Finding yourself back at the concert hall an hour before rehearsal started, you made your way to Agatha’s office and used the key she had given you to let yourself in. You had to grab the boxes filled with folders of music, as well as Agatha’s scores and her favorite baton. Your eyes scanned the dozens of identical batons that the older woman had before you found the one she requested you grab.

There weren’t many personal items in Agatha’s office. Granted she had only been here for around a month, but still. It was basically bare, save for a few photos of her pet bunny, Señor Scratchy. You had often wondered what the conductor did when she wasn’t here, but you had never felt comfortable enough to ask. Agatha was...private, and while you respected her privacy a part of you wondered what she was like when she wasn’t in scary conductor mode.

A quick glance at the clock alerted you to head to the hall before the players started to arrive. You quickly locked up the office before hurrying through the building, arms filled with boxes.

“I should’ve brought these in before I left,” You mumbled out loud as you balanced the boxes in one hand to unlock the stage door with your other hand.

“Well yes dear, but that would’ve required thought,” Agatha said with a smirk as she came up from behind you.

You cursed and jumped, glaring at the woman who scared you half to death. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Agatha held the door open for you and shrugged in response as you passed her. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to scare.”

“You’re evil,” You told her, but your tone was teasing. “And you’re early.”

“It’s my first rehearsal, I want to be prepared,” Agatha explained but you knew her well enough to know what that meant.

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know,” You said reassuringly as she grabbed one of the boxes from you to set on the stage.

Agatha scowled and gave you a dirty look. “I am not nervous. I’m Agatha Harkness. I don’t get nervous.”

“Right and you’re also nothing like Wanda Maximoff, right?” You fired back, enjoying the glower she gave you.

Agatha huffed. “I liked it better when you were afraid of me.”

You laughed as you began placing the folders on their respective stands. “I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of disappointing you.” And you were still afraid of disappointing her, but you would never vocalize that.

Agatha gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before she helped you with the folders. “Where’s your violin?”

“In your office,” You reminded her. “Remember, I told you I was leaving it there until after rehearsal?”

“Well how are you going to play in,” She checked her watch, “Fourty-five minutes without an instrument?”

You stared at her in shock. “But...but I thought I didn’t get the first violin spot?”

“You didn’t,” Agatha admitted. “But I haven’t hired anyone else and I still need to update our sub list. So there will be an empty chair for rehearsal.”

“Which means?” You pressed, needing to hear the words from her.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Needy as ever for the praise I see. Grab your instrument and get your ass on stage in ten minutes before I change my mind.”

You practically skipped off stage, not believing what you were hearing. You were going to perform with the Manhattan Symphony! Sure it was just a rehearsal, and the first rehearsal at that, but you didn’t care. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down.

By the time you returned with your instrument, some of the players had started to arrive. You recognized a few of the violinists from different gigs you had played over the past couple of years. Scanning the stage, you spotted Agatha in one of the first rows in the audience, drinking a bottle of water. She noticed you staring and motioned for you to come join her.

You set your case down next to her bag. “Thank you for letting me play in rehearsal today.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Agatha questioned, looking at you with curiosity. “I need a violinist for today’s rehearsal. You’re my assistant who will do whatever you can to please me. It’s common sense.”

You rolled your eyes at her but smiled nonetheless. “You really can’t let me be nice, can you?”

Agatha laughed and patted you on the arm. “You’re finally catching on, dear. Now get on stage and warm up. I can’t have my assistant embarrassing me in front of the entire ensemble.”

You did as you were told and sat in the last chair of the first violin section. The other members of the ensemble gradually made their way to their respective seats to begin warming up, and Agatha stayed at her spot still drinking her water. Your stand partner eventually made their way over to you and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Monica,” the woman said politely as she sat in the chair next to yours.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” you replied with a small smile. “Have you been with the symphony for a while?”

“This is my fifth season,” Monica replied with a shrug. “Should be a little more interesting with Harkness in charge at least.”

You vaguely remembered the rumors that the last music director had been voted off by the board due to his age, but you couldn’t remember his name.

“Yeah, she’s really great,” You said happily. Monica gave you a curious glance. “I’m actually her assistant.”

Monica raised her eyebrows at that revelation. “Oh, wow. What’s that like?”

You shrugged, and noted that was the second time someone had that reaction. “Pretty standard I guess.”

“I was wondering who she hired for the section after cancelling the blind auditions,” Monica admitted. “She gave those violinists quite a scare.”

“Well I’m not hired for this,” You quickly backtracked. “She just hadn’t filled the seat and she needed a sub for today so-“

Monica laughed. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. It’s nice to have you here. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

A few minutes later, the chatter and warming up abruptly stopped when Agatha took the podium. The ensemble stared at their new conductor, curious as to how she would start their first rehearsal. Instead, Agatha raised her baton and the ensemble lifted their instruments in preparation.

“Movement four of Dvorak,” Agatha said and allowed everyone a moment to flip to the respective movement.

She raised her baton again and you felt a rush of adrenaline as you waited in anticipation for her to begin. Over the past few weeks you had studied Agatha’s conducting technique. Watching her move her hands in formation was so beautiful, she was easily the most skilled conductor you had ever observed. Her eyes raked over the ensemble and landed on yours, and with a smirk she gave the upbeat to begin.

Dvorak’s New World Symphony was one of the first full symphonies you remembered playing back in your high school youth symphony. It was breathtaking, full of colorful phrases and swirling melodies in every movement that left both the player and listener eager for more. The fourth movement seemed to tie it all together.

Despite it being the first rehearsal, the ensemble played relatively well. Agatha was mindlessly conducting, her gaze fixated on different ensemble members, and you knew she probably had so many quick witted insults stewing in her brain. You meanwhile couldn’t keep your eyes from watching her conduct. Sure, watching old videos of her conducting different orchestras was great, your personal favorite was of her performance conducting Tchaikovsky’s 4th Symphony with The Chicago Symphony. You also loved sitting in her office and watching her get lost in her scores, seemingly oblivious to your gaze locked on her baton and the way her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

But this...this was pure beauty. It was like she was painting a canvas using her baton as a paint brush. Even with her gaze focused elsewhere, she knew the score backwards and forwards and you saw her give every cue without even taking a second to glance down at the music. It was magical; she was magical.

The movement progressed and you had reached one of you favorite spots. There was a phrase transition that featured a slow and melodic theme that was passed throughout the orchestra. It started in the winds and you smiled at the serene sounds of the oboe that featured accompaniment from the strings before the melody was eventually passed to the violin section. While most violinists enjoyed playing fast and thrilling passages that left their fingers aching and bow arm sore, you had always secretly preferred the sweeter themes, the soaring melodies that kept growing and filled your heart with so much warmth.

Closing your eyes to play a passage you had long ago memorized, Dvorak had always been a favorite, you took a second to enjoy the unique feeling that every musician shared. Making music was an intimate experience. The ability to bring together dozens of people from different walks of life. To put aside any problems from everyday life and just take those brief moments to focus on nothing but their craft. Your happiest memories were of the time you spent in orchestra rehearsals. All of the hard, and sometimes grueling, work that went into perfecting each measure and making sure each section played as one giant instrument. All of it was worth it once you made it to the performance, and you swore there was nothing that could bring you more bliss than a live performance.

The movement progressed and Agatha was fully in her element. The woman was the most confident conductor you had ever encountered. Sure, she was a bit...cocky...but she had every right to be. This was the only first rehearsal you had ever attended where the conductor had effortlessly led the ensemble through tempo changes and cues without any faults.

With a whirlwind of fast passages and high notes that had you breathless, you reached the grand finale. You would occasionally glance up to check you were following Agatha’s tempo, and it took everything in you to not keep your gaze entirely fixated on her.

Agatha left her baton raised for a moment before finally lowering it, and you could tell by the passive look on her face that she was not pleased. “Well that was disappointing. Have any of you played in an ensemble before today?”

Directing her gaze to the principal flutist, she waved her hand. “And don’t even get me started on the mess over here. Are you trying to make my ears bleed? I’ve heard first graders who have a better tone than you.”

The principal flutist frowned. “With all due respect Maestra, it’s our first rehearsal and we’re a little rusty.”

“Did I ask for excuses?” Agatha questioned, and you knew the rest of rehearsal would only be downhill from there. If there was one thing Agatha Harkness hated it was excuses. “What’s your name?”

“Dottie Jones.”

“Well, Dottie,” Agatha sneered. “Since you apparently know more than I do, why don’t you come up here and conduct?”

Well shit. You didn’t see that coming. You glanced over to Monica and found she had the same shocked expression on her face as you did.

“Maestra I don’t-“ Dottie tried to argue, and you couldn’t help but feel a small amount of pity for the woman because you knew Agatha always got what she wanted.

“Now!” Agatha yelled and threw her baton on the stand. “Let’s see what you can do.”

“Is she always like this?” Monica whispered to you and you shrugged.

That was a good question. In the few weeks you worked for Agatha, you had grown used to her intense presence and ever changing mood swings. You would never admit it to her face, but you actually found it kind of charming in a weird and twisted sort of way, because you knew Agatha only acted this way to assert her dominance. The music world had predominantly been led by men. The vast majority of the most famous and beloved composers were men. For the majority of your playing career the conductors you encountered were men. Hell, even the majority of symphony orchestras had male concert masters.

“She likes to keep things interesting,” You whispered back while keeping your gaze locked on the scene occurring on the podium.

Dottie had reluctantly made her way through the ensemble to stand on the podium where Agatha stood to the side with her arms folded across her chest.

“Any day now, Dottie,” Agatha mocked and you grimaced. Not even a half hour in and she had already lost her temper.

To Dottie’s credit she appeared relatively calm as she picked up the baton Agatha threw on the stand. The orchestra readied themselves to begin, but you kept your gaze locked on Agatha. What was she playing at?

Dottie gave the upbeat and the opening notes of Dvorak rang out. The flutist was a decent conductor, but you knew it was a losing battle. Her technique was nowhere as refined as Agatha’s and you could tell she was trying her best to keep the ensemble from falling apart. You made it through ten bars before Agatha made her way to the podium and raised one hand, and everyone immediately stopped.

“Well Dottie what do you think?”

“I think I should go back to my seat and leave the conducting to you,” Dottie offered weakly.

Agatha arched an eyebrow. “Ah. I see.” She waited for Dottie to sit back down before continuing. “Some of you may find my methods crazy. Some of you may say that I’m too mean, that I’m pushing you too hard. However, there is a reason for all of this.”

She pointed her baton at the principal oboe. “You? What’s your name?”

“Oh, um...” The man stammered and Agatha rolled her eyes.

“Name!”

“Jimmy Woo.”

“Jimmy Woo,” Agatha repeated with a frown on her face. “How long have you been with the symphony?”

“This is my third season, Maestra,” Jimmy said with a smile.

Agatha nodded. “I need to hear more of you. We need to work on your projection to come over the strings without making it too nasally. Not bad for the first rehearsal, Woo.”

“Thank you, Maestra.”

“Now Woo, how would you say the past three seasons have gone?” Agatha prompted.

“Maestra?” Jimmy asked, appearing confused by the question.

Agatha let out a huff. “How have you felt the orchestra has performed for the past three seasons, Woo?”

“You want my honest opinion, Maestra?”

You watched Agatha tense up and you internally sighed. Another thing Agatha hated was pointless questions.

“No, Woo, I want you to change into a tutu and do pliés,” Agatha dryly commented.

Jimmy let out a bit of nervous laughter which quickly ended when Agatha glared at him. “Right. Well, I guess I feel like we’re losing our touch.”

“That’s putting it lightly. Thank you, Woo,” Agatha said before turning her attention to the rest of the ensemble. “The Manhattan Symphony was once the world’s finest orchestra. But all of you have gotten too comfortable. You’ve stopped making music and now are simply playing notes on a page. You’ve gotten lazy.”

There we go. The third thing Agatha hated. Laziness. You swore the woman was constantly on the move. There was one Friday afternoon where you had suggested taking a half day to enjoy the sunshine, which led Agatha to go on a twenty minute long rant (you timed it) that you could enjoy the sunshine when you were dead in a grave. Needless to say, you never asked to leave work early again.

You watched the conductor place her baton on the stand and wave her arms around. “I want this orchestra to regain its rightful place on top of the musical community. But this is going to require work from every single individual in this room. So, this is your first and only warning. If you are not going to put your entire soul into this orchestra, consider this your last rehearsal. Everyone is replaceable and I promise you will not be missed.”

You raised your bow to signal you had a question. Agatha’s head whipped around to look at you, and you could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Something you wish to add?”

“And if we stay?” You asked, thinking back to the very same question you asked her the day of the audition.

That earned you a smile so small it was almost impossible to see, and it went away as quickly as it appeared. “If you choose to stay, I am going to work you hard. I don’t want to hear any whining or complaints, only promises to do better. Are we clear?”

Silence from the room was taken as a yes. Agatha raised her baton. “Good. Flip to measure 21. Woo I want to work on your entrance. First violins, I know you love being the center of attention but you need to follow the dynamics on the page, circle them if you must. Flutes please try to not to fuck up your eighth notes otherwise I will make sure the only orchestra you play for is in the middle of Antartica.”

The rest of rehearsal went better than it started. Agatha was her usual slightly snarky self, and the rest of the ensemble was learning not to question her. You went to pack up your instrument when Monica motioned for you to come join her.

“I’m not sure if you have any plans but a few of us are going to get drinks if you want to join,” Monica offered and you were touched by her kindness.

“That’s so sweet but I’m actually pretty tired,” You said apologetically. Which was partially true, but you also wanted to make sure Agatha went home and didn’t stay cooped up in her office all night.

“Well if you change your mind, shoot me a text,” Monica insisted as she handed you her phone to put in your contact information. She took the phone back and sent you a message. “There’s my number.”

You thanked her again before heading over to where Agatha was silently stewing. A quick glance at her confirmed that she was still in a bad mood and you chose to silently pack up your instrument while shooting her quick and cautious glances.

“I can feel you staring,” Agatha finally looked up at you. “I want to redo the string parts for Maximoff’s piece. We need to fix a few of the bowings. I want everything to be set for our first rehearsal with her.” She noticed your hesitation. “Unless you have other plans.”

“Oh no, my dream Friday night is being holed up in your office marking Rachmaninoff,” You joked and grinned when she rolled her eyes.

“Funny, dear. Very funny,” Agatha deadpanned, motioning for you to follow her. “But I don’t pay you to make jokes.”

An hour later you were done with the bowings while Agatha had spent the time reading a book. She had a pair of glasses on and her feet were up on her desk, it was the most relaxed you had ever seen her.

“You’re finished?” Agatha asked, not looking up from her book. “Good,” she said and slammed the book closed. “Now, we didn’t get a chance to do this earlier due to my Maximoff induced migraine, so grab that violin and come with me. I want to see how relaxed your bow hold is after rehearsing.”

“Actually, I was going to suggest that we call it a night?” You asked tentatively, gauging her reaction. “You’ve had a long day and-“

“And what? I’m so old I need to be in bed before ten?” Agatha inquired, slowly taking off her glasses.

“You’re not old,” You blurted out and Agatha smirked at you. Blushing, you looked at the floor. “But maybe it would do you good to get some rest?”

“Trying to give me orders again, darling?” Agatha teased and even though you weren’t looking at her, you knew she was still smirking. “I’m not so sure I like that.”

“You really shouldn’t say things like that,” You mumbled whilst Agatha laughed.

“Whatever you say, dear,” Agatha said. “If it will get you to shut up, I’ll call it a night and go home. But I expect you back here tomorrow morning so we can make up our session. We’re finally starting to crack the surface of your true potential and I won’t have you wasting it because you need to sleep.”

You had waited for Agatha to pack up her bag and followed her out of the building. This was the first time you had left at the same time as the older woman. She usually sent you on your way long before she was ready to head out for the evening. She had her town car waiting for her out front, and she frowned as she watched you prepare to walk home.

“You’re not planning on walking alone at this hour are you?” Agatha questioned and looked at you like you were an idiot.

You shrugged. “I only live a few blocks away.” Which was a bit of a lie, but she didn’t have to know that. “And if anyone gives me a hard time I can just whack them with this.” You motioned to your hard case violin.

“You’re an idiot if you think I’ll allow you to wander the streets like a lost little puppy,” Agatha reprimanded you. “Get in the car.”

“I’m not getting in your car,” You argued. “I’ll be fine.”

“Darling I’m not going to tell you again. Get in the car,” Agatha repeated and then smirked. “Unless you’d rather I drag you kicking and screaming.”

You glared at her. Damn her for making everything sound so...suggestive. “Fine.”

“Good girl,” Agatha said as you followed her in the car, and she patted the seat next to hers. “Now where do you live?”

You gave her driver the instructions to your apartment and then made yourself comfortable in the car. There was a few minutes of awkward silence which you spent staring out the window, and Agatha spent staring at you.

“Ya know, you usually call me out for staring at you,” You finally spoke up, the silence starting to eat away at you.

“I am not staring at you,” Agatha lightly argued before changing the subject. “I never asked how you thought I did tonight.”

“What?”

Agatha frowned at you. “How do you think I led the rehearsal?”

That was new. Over the past few weeks Agatha had never asked you for your opinion on anything regarding her conducting, because why would she? Agatha was the most confident person you had ever met, and a part of you was envious at how she presented herself to the world.

You took a moment to glance over at her and found yourself staring into bright blue eyes. “I...I thought you were brilliant. But, you were a little too nice. I don’t think I saw anyone cry.”

Agatha’s expression lightened and you felt your heartbeat grow rapid at the sight of her smile. “Still making jokes, darling? Perhaps I’m going too easy on you.”

The rest of the car ride fell back into a more comfortable silence, and before long Agatha’s driver pulled up to your modest but nice apartment building.

You grabbed your violin case and offered Agatha a small smile. “Thank you for giving me a ride home.”

“Thank Hank, he did the driving.”

“Right,” You frowned. “Well, goodnight.”

Agatha briefly touched your arm as you went to exit the car, and you felt goosebumps at the sensation. “Goodnight, dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha wandavision #wandavision au #wandavision #marvel au #agnes x reader #agatha harkness x you

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!

It's the anon of the Remus knockout fic. Could you write a mirror fic?

Yep! For anyone who is curious: a mirror fic is when you take the premise of one fic, then translate it to a different character with minor alterations. This one has the same theme as Knockout, where Sirius was knocked unconscious after a bad hit. This is also the first half-and-half commentary fic I’ve ever written!

SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for injury, minor blood, fighting, and unconsciousness

“Lee, are you seeing this?” Frank asked, excitement building in his voice.

“I am, Frank! There’s a melee on the ice—it looks like the Lions and Snakes have finally let their cork pop after that dirty check on Lions captain Sirius Black! Oh, what a hit on Malfoy by O’Hara! That’ll leave a mark,” Lee laughed. Several whistles blew, loud and shrill over the roaring fans. “Let’s get a playba—wait. Hang on a second, Frank, is that—?”

“There’s a player down,” Frank confirmed, sobering immediately. “Lee, I think that’s Lupin, but he’s not moving.”

“Black is waving medics over and it looks like the Lions have put their fists away for the moment. Snape tries to start something again, but—oh, shut down by the refs. Right to the bench for him.” They fell quiet as another person hurried onto the ice. “That’s Hestia Jones, Gryffindor’s newest addition to the training team. Lupin always speaks highly of her, so he should be in good hands.”

Noise rippled over the stadium after a period of suspended silence. “Is he moving? He is! Lupin’s conscious again, and nobody is calling for a stretcher, which is a great sign.” Frank paused for a moment as Hestia and Sirius helped pull him upright. “And Lupin’s heading toward the locker room with about half the team on his heels, mostly under his own power.”

“I think we can all breathe a sigh of relief after that,” Lee said. “I don’t know about you, but I never like seeing fights go bad. How do you think it happened?”

“Let’s take a look.” The jumbotron picked up just after number 8 on the Snakes collided with Sirius in a late hit, nearly knocking his helmet clean off; in mere seconds, the two teams were on each other in a pack of fury. Remus went after number 8, one of the enforcers—they tussled for a moment before a hard hit from his opponent knocked him flat on the ice.

“Lupin’s fiery, but he was well out of his weight class there,” Lee said, shaking his head. “It seems like no permanent damage was done, though. We’ve got enough Lions and Snakes in the boxes that both teams are going to their second strings, Frank! Back to you!”

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

Sirius’ heart pounded in his ears as they headed off the ice, moving as slow as possible to avoid damaging Remus on the off-chance something serious had happened. Hestia’s arm was a steel bar around his lower back; Talker, James, and Leo flanked them until they reached the boards, and each of the Lions put a gentle hand on Remus’ back when he passed them.

“I’m alright,” Remus said as they stepped into the tunnel, his head drooping forward. “ ‘m okay.”

“Can you help him get his pads off?” Hestia asked quietly, finally making eye contact with Sirius while they helped him sit on the PT table.

He nodded and gently guided Remus’ hands away from the straps and buckles, undoing them from muscle memory as he kept a careful eye out for anything they may have missed. Remus half-smiled, though more pain had overtaken the dizziness. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Sirius winced at his voice crack, but removed the heavy pads without missing a beat. “How’re you feeling?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder. “Hurts. Nothing out of the ordinary, though. Can you call my mom?”

“They’ll be here soon, I bet.”

“Did you see them?”

“Earlier, yeah. They’ve got seats in the middle.”

Hestia tapped Sirius’ hip and he reluctantly moved aside to let her run through the concussion protocol, though he didn’t let go of Remus’ hand and grabbed a nearby paper towel to clean up some of the blood on his lip. “You look good to me,” Hestia said after a few minutes. “A little banged up, but nothing scary. Get some rest and water, and you’ll be good as new.”

The paper covering the table crinkled as Sirius sat down, rubbing small circles on Remus’ lower back. “Do you want to stay here or head back to the bench?”

He made a face. “Stay here, I think. I’m kind of wobbly.”

“I’ll grab your water and be right back, okay?”

Remus nuzzled Sirius’ collarbone with a sigh, then kissed his cheek. “Thanks, hon.”

As soon as Sirius was out of the PT room, he leaned against the wall and blew out a shaky breath, running both hands through his hair. He had been too preoccupied with recovering from the late hit and shoving Snape to stop Remus from engaging with the Snakes’ enforcer; all he could do was watch as they traded one, two, three hits before Remus dropped. Dropped like a stone, and took Sirius’ heart with him.

Nobody else noticed at firs—both teams were a brawling wreck at that point, and for all of his hard work Remus was still one of the smaller guys out there. It was a miracle Hestia had even heard him calling for a medic as he gripped Remus’ hand and fumbled through hoarse pleas for him to open his eyes. He had been so pale when Sirius pulled his helmet off, save for the blossoming reddish-purple mark across one side of his face.

Hestia had let him stay while she worked, speaking clipped and clear by the side of Remus’ head until he mumbled “hear you” and “hurts”. It took another half-minute before he looked at them, and a dozen lifetimes before his breathing went back to normal under Sirius’ palm.

He’s okay, he told himself for the umpteenth time. He’s okay. He’s awake. Hestia’s got him.

Sirius walked to the bench in a daze, hardly glancing at the game while he collected their waterbottles and braced himself on the back of a chair for a moment. “How is he?” Arthur asked, worry lacing his tone.

“He’s okay. Bruised and dizzy, no concussion.”

“Deep breaths, Cap. Deep breaths.” Sirius inhaled slowly, then exhaled with a shiver. Arthur gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “There you go. Everything’s alright.”

“That was fucking terrifying.”

“Sit down for a second, yeah?”

Sirius shook his head. “Gotta get him some water. Christ. Okay, I’m okay. Don’t know if you want me back out—”

“No,” Arthur said firmly. “We’re ahead, and your boys don’t look like they’re going to let the Snakes take it back.”

“Thank you.” Sirius pressed his lips together as the delayed fear rocking through him began to abate.

“Go on, son. I’ll update the others if they ask.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face before heading back down the hall with both waterbottles, trying to calm his racing heart to the sounds of quiet voices coming from the PT room.

“Sirius!”

“Hey, buddy.” Sirius bent down to catch Jules in a hug and felt tears prickle back up in his throat as his ribs were nearly crushed beneath skinny arms. The second he straightened, Hope and Lyall pulled him close in a flutter of worry.

“Is he still awake?” Lyall asked.

“Hestia’s got him,” Sirius confirmed, running a steady hand through Jules’ hair. “He’s up and talking, no concussion. I was just getting him some water.”

Hope looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she nodded. “Thank you. Can we see him?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Sirius lifted Jules onto his hip—the kid wasn’t letting go of him anytime soon—and led them down the hall, then knocked before pushing the door open the rest of the way.

Almost immediately, Remus was mobbed by both his parents. “I’m fine,” Remus assured them as Hope inspected the bruise on the side of his face. “I should know better than to start fights with—”

“You didn’t start it,” Lyall interrupted. “That was a late hit and the refs should’ve called it before things went that far.”

“Oh, lovey,” Hope murmured, cupping his face in her palms. “We are so happy for you, and we one hundred percent support you, but please think before you punch people twice your size.”

��Yes, ma’am,” Remus laughed as she kissed his forehead. “Where’s Jules?”

“Here.” Jules wiggled free of Sirius’ arms and crept over, then clambered up onto the table and tucked himself against Remus’ ribs with a sniffle. “Don’t do that anymore.”

“You got it,” he promised; Sirius lingered on the outside of their group hug before Remus reached out and dragged him into his other side. “Family hugs include you now, remember?”

“I need all my boys in one spot,” Hope added, giving him a light jostle.

“You guys are welcome to stay as long as you like,” Hestia said from the doorway as she propped it open. “Cap, Loops, coach might want to see you after the game.”

“How much time do we have?” Sirius asked without extracting himself from the net of affection.

“Eh, maybe five minutes? We’ve scored two goals in the past ten, so I don’t think it’ll drag on too much longer.”

“Sirius, how are you feeling? That hit looked pretty hard.” Hope gave him a concerned look, as if she was expecting him to also drop unconscious.

“I might be a little bruised in the morning, but I’m fine,” he said.

Lyall narrowed his eyes, then nodded. “Good. We need you.”

“I won’t be in for the rest of the—”

“We need you here,” he clarified, patting Sirius’ back. “Right here.”

Remus caught his eye and smiled softly; Sirius swallowed around the lump in his throat and relaxed into the hug, resting his temple against the top of Remus’ head. He was okay. They both were. They all were.

172 notes · View notes

ackerfics · 4 years ago

Text

the parent trap — levi ackerman (iii)

part one | part two

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: angst if you squint??? and another original character that was annoying to write

— summary: caelum was too excited coming back home to london but found out that there was someone ruining their plan with their advances.

— word count: 6.6k

— author’s notes: this has been updated yey !!! i’m so happy to finally write for their series again. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

London was an entirely different world for the boy of eleven, blue-gray eyes memorizing every building and street as their car drove past the city.

The trip back home finished without a hitch; the only thing perplexing Caelum was that he was directed to the first-class section of the plane by one of the stewardesses. If there weren’t many people behind him, waiting for their turn to board on the plane, he would’ve stood longer at the entrance. The entire flight was spent vibrating with excitement on his seat, thoughts revolving around finally meeting you, his mother. His anticipation remained until he went out to look for Oluo at the airport, neck craning and standing on top of an airport seat to get a glimpse of the butler. Everything was going smoothly, Oluo never suspected anything when they did their handshake, however, the older man questioned him on his hair. Even though he practiced it a dozen times, Caelum froze in front of the narrowed eyes of their butler. Something was underlying in his gaze that made the gray-eyed boy nervous, managing out the reason for his undercut with a crafted smile.

“Now you remind me of someone I used to know when I went with your mother to a university overseas.”

Caelum was praying to any deity that this will not foil the plan.

If the first-class ticket and London’s bustling streets didn’t make Caelum awestruck, the house bearing the name [Last Name] in the gates definitely did. It was exactly like what was described to him and more. The first thing that came to his mind when he laid his eyes on the cozy home was that it looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. There were vines placed immaculately on the walls, presenting flowers with the color palette of lilacs, carnation pinks, and baby blues. The garden was a sight to behold and for Caelum, all the flowers he could remember were present there and taken with utmost care. Butterflies drifted in various areas of the estate, making it look magical than it already is.

It was a refreshing sight after all those years of seeing maroon and deep green walls.

When he heard the car door close behind him, Caelum jumped an inch in the air and composed himself. The tips of fashioning this aristocratic persona ringing in his head and reminding him of what he was here for — his gaze unknowingly going to the window above the front door, its curtains flying because of the wind. Oluo placed a gentle hand on the little boy’s shoulders, a smile painting the man’s lips as he gestured for the little master of the household to greet his awaiting family. With an excited smile, he went up the pathway and reached the door. When he placed a hand on the doorknob, he could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest with his cheeks hurting from how widely he was smiling since he landed from his flight.

A small, shaking hand was placed on top of his heart, a deep breath was released, and finally, Caelum opened the door.

A hallway greeted him, paintings coloring the plain background, and carpet leading to a set of stairs. There were two doorways on either side of the hallway. Caelum glanced at the closed door to the left side of the hallway before peeking excitedly at the doorway with a tantalizing smell emanating from it. As if he was about to enter Wonderland, the onyx-haired boy took careful steps into a vast living room. The couches were arranged to be surrounding a low table and facing a fireplace that was between two open doorways, which Caelum noticed was leading to a study or mini-library.

A vase with white roses behind the long couch caught his attention, making his way over there the moment he saw the card dangling from the stems. It wasn’t in him to be nosy but the scented card with romantic connotations was enough for him to feel nervous. The roses now didn’t sit right with him the more he stared at it. It was much too flamboyant for the eleven-year-old’s eyes after seeing the flirty card. He hoped to God that it wasn’t what he thinks it is.

Caelum looked up at the top of the wall presenting an open kitchen and dining table. There hung a banner with an explosion of colors saying, ‘Welcome home, Caelum’, in everything glittery that the kid snickered at. It sent a wave of warmth through his little body.

Then, there were giggles coming from the study — a series of small laughter that made Caelum abandon his curiosity of the feast dedicated to his homecoming. He followed the sound towards the library beside the living room, the rustic atmosphere reminding him of the library from the Beauty and the Beast. Even though a whole wall was covered with books from all generations, there was still an armchair positioned under the wide window letting in the cool breeze. A small laugh once again rang through the room. Caelum hesitantly glanced at the desk at the other end of the study, a person holding a newspaper piquing his interest.

Caelum remembered a name.

“Hange?”

A messy array of brown hair, shining glasses, and a lopsided smile were behind the newspaper. The person had stars in their eyes as they planted both hands on the desk, standing up from the chair with a squeal.

“Little bean! My, have you grown in those eight weeks. You’re practically a gangly young man now.”

Hange rounded the desk, arms wide open for the little boy running towards them. They let out a playful huff when Caelum wrapped his arms around their waist, the brown-haired person cooing. The little prince was like a koala, making Hange’s heart melt at the sight. They swayed the two of them back and forth, humming happily under their breath, smile so wide that they didn’t care if it hurt their face. Hange was so happy to finally have the boy home until their mood dampened a little when they felt their button-down shirt becoming wet by the second. Peering down at the onyx-haired boy, Hange panicked at the steady stream of Caelum’s tears, with the boy ducking down to hide his cherry red cheeks that seemed to bloom after realizing he carelessly cried.

“Holy shite, are you alright, little bean? Hey, you can talk to me, you know?”

The gray-eyed boy’s hug tightened around them, taking note of the warmth exuding from the person’s body and welcoming. “I’m home,” he muttered against the shirt of the family friend.

Hange smiled softly at the eleven-year-old boy, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. “Welcome home. Uhm, what are you doing, little bean?”

Caelum stopped from taking a deep breath against the crook of Hange’s neck, his face erupting in a pretty shade of rouge as he looked up at the brown-eyed person. His gaze bounced back from left to right, avoiding any eye contact with Hange. It was rarely that he could express his emotions freely like this and for once, it felt good. His whole life, he always kept his expressions in check when out of the comforts of his house, he hid them behind those scowls his classmates feared or the blank face he perfected under a certain someone’s guise. Caelum smiled brightly at Hange, eyes carrying an entire constellation map that the person gushed internally at. “Just smelling.”

“Smelling?”

“I’m creating a memory,” Caelum whispered only for the two of them, the books their witnesses.

Hange lightly tapped the boy’s nose with their finger. “So what do I smell like?”

“Years from now, I’ll always remember the person who taught me how to read and write short stories, acting them out before my eyes and making me see the beauty of the world. I’ll always remember this person and how they smell like,” he paused to inhale the older person’s scent, “old books, lavender, and orange marmalade.”

Hange snickered. “I miss you!”

“Caelum?”

The two pulled away, looking at the doorway towards the hallway. Hange had a knowing smile on their face, nudging the gray-eyed boy encouragingly to the direction of the melodious voice. “The queen is here, little bean. Go greet her.”

That gesture flew by Caelum’s head as he took careful steps out of the library and to the living room with wide eyes. It was finally happening. The moment he was waiting for all his life. The moment his father across the oceans was waiting for all those years of being separated. Caelum could barely contain the magnitude of feelings circling his stomach, going up towards his chest in the best way possible. He was nervous at the thought that what if you wouldn’t like him. He was excited to finally get a glimpse of your face in real life rather than in pictures. He felt like flying at every step leading him to the hallway that presented the winding stairs. Caelum gulped down his saliva before taking one step nearer the stairs.

There you were, looking like a seraph descending from the heavens with your white flowy, long-sleeved chiffon dress reaching to your toes. Or a fairy gracing the presence of the mortals as you stood barefoot on top of the stairs with the most beautiful smile Caelum received in his lifetime. Your hair was styled in effortless waves that framed your oneiric visage, eyes gleaming from the windows and hand pressed against your heart. Simple pieces of jewelry decorated your neck and wrists, making it seem like you were royalty. He could see how your breath hitched the longer you stared at him, almost as if you remembered something that was supposed to be locked and forgotten. He hoped it was because of this father that you smiled in a bittersweet manner that took Caelum’s breath away.

One thing was certain in the little boy’s mind — the pictures his dad owned didn’t do you justice.

“Mother,” Caelum managed to breathe out.

He can see Hange and Oluo peeking from the living room, the latter being the one tending to the finishing touches made by the cook of the family, but Caelum didn’t mind them witnessing the reunion of two pieces of an incomplete puzzle.

“You’re back,” you gleefully stated, carefully running down the steps of the stairs to engulf your son in a much-awaited hug. You planted a kiss on the side of his head and shoulder, feeling the boy nuzzling more into your figure.

You noticed how much he’s grown the past eight weeks he was away. Even if this was an opportunity for him to make some friends aside from the ones residing in your home, you didn’t want the only piece of your ex-husband to be away that long, much less with seas separating the two of you. Hours before Oluo told you through the telephone that Caelum’s flight just landed, you were mindlessly touching your bare ring finger, the silver band enclosing around it long gone and stored in the confines of your drawer. The blank sketchbook on top of your lap is forgotten with the unfinished sketches of beautiful wedding gowns that your clients requested. If this were set in the times when you were still a university student, the pages of this sketchbook would be filled with defined jawlines, soft light-colored eyes, and a small smirk that you loved so dearly. That person’s face can now be seen on your son, the undercut making his Ackerman features more pronounced.

You pulled away, placing both of your hands on the sides of Caelum’s face. “And with an undercut. Who helped you with this haircut?”

Caelum was crying when he answered, “A boy I met at camp. Do you hate it?” His face was contorted into a grimace since he knew looking like his father would probably affect you.

“Hate it?” You searched his face, kissing his forehead. “No, I absolutely love it. You look so much like someone I know.” Your eyes caught something shiny in his ears. A delighted gasp came out of your lips as you ran a finger on the silver stud earrings decorating Caelum’s ears. “Well, are there any other surprises? Bellybutton rings? Tattoos?” You shared a laugh with Caelum, only for the boy to start crying again. You caressed his cheek, wiping away a tear trickling down. “Oh, darling, what is it? Are you feeling blue at seeing me again?”

Caelum shook his head. “I just missed you so much, Mummy. Don’t worry, these are happy tears.”

You cooed, pulling the little boy in your arms again, patting his back soothingly. “I know.” You can feel him nuzzle his face on your neck, rubbing his back to help him calm down. “This summer has been too long without you, my little prince.” Your eyes met with Hange’s at the entrance of the living room and smiled when you saw them wiping away a stray tear.

“You have no idea, Mum.”

You pulled away from your son, cupping his face delicately on your palms. “Shall we have the feast that was waiting for our prince to come home? I’m sure you’re pretty famished from the flight.”

“Yes, little bean!” Hange exclaimed from the living room. “Oluo prepared the roasted beef especially for you. How about we murder that with our appetites?”

“Please don’t, Hange,” Oluo sighed at the animated person. “I don’t want to clean another mess in the dining table from you and the little prince’s small eating competition.”

“You spoilsport!”

Caelum laughed heartily. “I think that sounds amazing.”

Lunch was divine.

Caelum was hungry after that flight and all the pretending that he gobbled everything that he could place on his plate. It started with the mashed potatoes and gravy, something that he didn’t have for a long time. Then, he tasted the roasted beef Hange mentioned earlier and it took everything in him not to hum in satisfaction. He didn’t want his family to notice that he ate this dish in years when in fact, it was a certain someone’s favorite food. Hange continuously placed some more lunch on his plate that by the end of the meal, Caelum thought that there wasn’t any room in his stomach for dessert. You laughed at the boy’s remark and teased him that if he caught a glimpse of the sweet, he would think twice. And he did. The dessert that followed was a tall, clear glass of strawberry parfait that smelled heavenly for the onyx-haired boy. His father wasn’t too fond of sweets, which meant that whatever his old man was eating, he will entertain it, too. Parfaits after a hearty meal were just the cherry on top of a sundae.

“So you’re saying that you gained a friend in that camp?” Hange asked through a mouthful of the parfait. For some reason, Caelum still understood them despite the unintelligible blabber coming out of their mouth. “And that he’s like your soulmate?”

Caelum nodded as you scolded Hange. You took the napkin on your lap and dabbed it in the corners of your best friend’s mouth, making them presentable and not the mad scientist that they were known for in the university that they worked at. “Hange, at least use the napkin provided by Oluo.”

“Why would I do that when I have you?” Hange cackled after swallowing the full strawberry they plopped in their mouth.

You threw a playful glare their way. “Say that one more time and I won’t hesitate to throw you out of the house.”

“Oh, but you won’t! You love me too much to do that, [Name]!”

You shook your head with a smile before facing your son again with sparkling eyes. “So how did you and your friend meet, little prince?”

“We had a fencing match one time at camp,” he started, vibrantly ready to relate the story.

“Ooh!” Hange interrupted as if they were guests in a quiz show on the telly. “I bet you kicked your friend’s ass at first! You always had a knack for fencing even before Mike taught you the basics.”

Caelum choked on a strawberry, incredulously staring at the brown-haired person. Was he that weak compared to the person he was trying to be at the moment? Judging from the grin of Hange and the proud gleam in your eyes; that would be the case. The little boy they knew took private classes in fencing with a talented family friend, with his life homeschooled (the teacher in any field other than sports being the exuberant scientist just sitting across from him). And there he was, learned fencing because of a show his father was watching. He recalled everything that was told to him back at camp before engaging in an engrossing conversation with the members of his family.

“Uhm, he did a pretty good job parrying my attacks and I have to say, I was impressed when he managed to corner me in the pavilion. To think we managed our way there from the fields.” He prevented the grimace from surfacing. “But I was the one who pushed him in the washing area. His words were too colorful for the whole camp to hear — they gasped.”

Hange’s chortles rang through the dining area. Even Oluo smiled while he poured you another glass of iced tea. Your look of surprise was then replaced with a laugh, joining Hange, though yours weren’t as loud as theirs. “Little bean, now I need to see that!” The brown-haired person spoke in between laughs.

“It is quite funny,” you admitted with a light chuckle. “But think about it, we’re laughing at a boy’s demise.”

“What can I say, Hange’s happiness is too shallow these days,” Oluo interjected from beside the said person, making them stop for a moment to pout at the butler’s statement.

“At least I didn’t always have a stick up my arse,” Hange huffed. “You’re always moody, Oluo. One would think you won’t have any chances in picking up a partner in the future.”

Oluo gasped, a hand placed on his chest.

“Okay, you two, leave the fighting for when Caelum’s not in the room,” you reminded them with a cool stare over the rim of your glass. “This is his day after all.” When you saw them resort to glares to not spoil the atmosphere, you nodded in satisfaction. Placing the glass of iced tea on the coaster beside your plate, you turned to your son who was holding back his amused laughs. “What happened after that—?” Then, your phone rang and everyone’s eyes fixed on the device sitting at your side of the table. With a sheepish mutter of apologies, you stood up and answered the call from your wedding gown studio. “Hello, [Name] [Last Name] speaking.”

“Ma’am [Name], thank God you answered immediately,” Armin, your secretary, practically shouted in relief. “There was a problem here and we would like to ask for your inquiry. I know Caelum just got home today but Historia’s gown has some minor complications.”

You hummed, taking a glance at your son laughing at something Hange said (probably another one of their experiments that they recently tested out), and fixed a smile on your face. Armin was a sweet soul who always had a talent for managing your wedding gown business — being the brains of the whole team. You were kind of lucky when he applied to be your secretary because the way he organized everything around the studio and the way he conversed with your clients was just sent from the heavens. “How bad is it? What exactly did Historia say?” Your client, Historia Reiss, was one of the kindest people you welcomed in your studio. You only hoped this wasn’t as bad as you conjured in your mind because there’s not a negative thing that came out of that young woman’s lips.

“She said that the veil covers too much of her gown,” Armin sighed. There was a faint chatter in the background and you discerned Sasha’s voice asking if there was free lunch because Caelum came home. “Sasha, no, I won’t ask her that. Just buy something from the bakery down the road,” Armin exasperatedly answered his colleague’s question, his voice too far away from his phone. “Hello, Ma’am, I’m sorry, Sasha asked me something.”

You laughed. “No, it’s alright, Armin. Good to know that you’re all lively there. How about this, I’ll be right over the studio in about ten minutes to fix the issue with Historia’s veil and bring you some packed food. Is that alright with you?”

“Fuck, yes!” Came from the other line, followed by a “Sasha, she can hear you, mind your language! Ah, yes, Ma’am! We will be waiting for your arrival. Have a safe trip going here!”

“Always, Armin,” you replied, the call cutting off. You turned around and faced your little family with a bright smile. “Sorry, I bet that was a loud call.”

“Was that from the studio, Miss [Name]?” Oluo voiced out the collective question of the people at the dining table.

You nodded, taking a seat beside your son again. “They have some small problems with my current client’s veil. Didn’t specify the problem because Sasha asked Armin if I should bring some food over to them. They must be hungry from all those clients coming over for a photo shoot.”

“Ah, I miss those little rascals,” Hange sighed, leaning back on the chair with a satisfied hum.

“They’re not little, Hange. Connie is practically taller than all of us here.”

“Ah, I miss those rascals.” Oluo snorted from behind Hange’s chair. The brown-haired person turned around to give the butler a playful, narrowed look. “I heard that.”

You chuckled at their little banter, eagerly facing your son. He rose an eyebrow at your hopeful face so you told him with an arm wrapped around his shoulder. “Hey, little prince, want to clear your afternoon schedule and come with me to the studio? Everybody there has been dying to see you after eight weeks.”

“Really?!” Caelum brightened at the invitation. Too much that Hange and Oluo stopped their bickering to stare at the boy with surprised faces. Of course, their little prince always held an excitement whenever you invite him to your studio but this time, it seemed like he was too eager as if he never stepped foot in your safe haven of tulles and silks. Upon realizing the mistake, Caelum let out a nervous laugh, scratching his undercut sheepishly. “Uhm, because I miss them, too. Being away from home for eight weeks is taking a toll on me. Makes me forget the little things here.” He didn’t meet any pair of eyes around the dining room, hoping that they wouldn’t pay too much mind in his little slip-up.

It was always your son’s enthusiasm that made you cherish him his whole life. He was rather closed-off with strangers, making his first meeting with the people in the studio rocky. Seeing him express such joy at the prospect of meeting Armin, Sasha, and Connie again sent a smile on your face. You pinched his cheek endearingly, kissing the crown of his head right after. “I understand, sweetheart. Whenever I go overseas for a client, I would forget what home feels like, too. Well, then,” you turned to the two people smiling at your interaction with Caelum, “will you two hold the fort while we go visit the bridal shop?”

Hange flashed a huge grin that made you wary for a second, two thumbs-up for the dining room to see. “Don’t worry, [Name]! You know I’m more than capable of keeping this place squeaky clean and free of malignant atmosphere.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Oluo murmured.

“Again, I heard that, Oluo!”

“So we’re just going to forget how you nearly set the kitchen on fire because you wanted to try baking? Or that time where the house looked like a pigsty because you stayed inside your lab for who knows how long while we’re away for Miss [Name]’s client in Greece? Or—“

Hange waved their hands around. “Okay, okay! You don’t have to remind me of those, Oluo!” They all but whined.

“We don’t have to worry about those anymore because Oluo is here to make sure nothing of that sort happens again,” you told them, standing up from your seat and offering a hand to Caelum. “And, Oluo, can you pack some food fit for five people? I bet Sasha didn’t eat her lunch yet.” The little boy took your waiting palm with a warm smile, returning it with a grin of your own. “I’ll head first to my room to pick up my sandals and handbag, then we’ll be good to go.”

Caelum followed you out of the house after changing into a baby blue suit. He didn’t have any of this clothing in his closet back home, fidgeting with the collar of his undershirt that was buttoned up because he couldn’t breathe properly. The two of you were inside the family car, the chauffeur following your instructions of heading straight to the studio when you noticed how he kept fiddling with the top buttons of his white button-down. Reaching a gentle hand on his neck, you unbuttoned the too-tight undershirt, chuckling in disbelief. “You always unbutton the top button of your button-down whenever you wear your suits. What made you change your mind today?”

The gray-eyed boy froze for a second before laughing at his mistake. “I just forgot, I guess? I’m so excited to be in the studio that it completely flew from my mind.”

You hummed, putting this aside as you looked out the bustling city passing by. You felt a small hand subtly clutching your own, making you turn to Caelum who was also staring into the buildings outside their vehicle. You smiled, squeezing his hand tightly to let him know you’re always there for him. You didn’t miss the small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. The steady playlist emanating from the radio made you relax until you reached the white establishment that carried all your hard work.

“Have a good day in the studio, Miss [Name],” the chauffeur bid you goodbye.

“Thank you so much, Marcus,” you replied, going out of the car with Caelum in tow.

The studio was breathtaking just like your house. Caelum had to prevent the look of awe sprawled on his visage. The building was pristine white with a huge window showcasing the many gowns you designed through the years, some of them were made after the original dress was sold to remember the people who you made happy on their wedding day. There was a glowing chandelier visible through the glass and a huge space between hanger racks of white gowns. Caelum took the front of the studio in with a proud smile until his eyes stopped on the gold, cursive letters on the building and the glass windows. There was only one person in his mind who fits the letters L.A. and he was across the sea with his twin. Caelum glanced at you, a spark of hope flaring in his chest at the sight of your loving smile directed at the letters.

The plan will be sailing perfectly in no time.

“You know who would look really beautiful in that gown?” Caelum looked up to you with a wide smile. “Like breathtakingly beautiful?”

“Who?”

“You.”

You stared at Caelum incredulously. Did Hange say anything? Knowing your best friend, if a secret is shared with them, they wouldn’t hesitate to spread the good news. Despite that, they were still the most lovable person you know in your lifetime. You ruffled your son’s hair affectionately. “Did Hange say something? I was hoping I would be the one to tell you the news.” The look of confusion on Caelum’s face made you smile. “You know, eight weeks has been a long time, and,” you trailed off, staring into the initials on your studio, “I think it’s time for us to have changes in our family. Let’s go inside, yeah?”

What you didn’t notice when entering the studio was a pale, horrified Caelum following you.

Surely this isn’t what he was assuming at the moment. But the image of the bouquet of white roses sitting daintily in the living room back home was plaguing his mind. That flirty card he accidentally read. He couldn’t help but say,

“Fucking hell.”

You glanced at your son with raised eyebrows. “Did you say anything, sweetheart?”

An innocent smile replaced the scowl on Caelum’s face. “Nothing, Mum.”

There was some clamoring in the next room that attracted your attention. You squeezed Caelum’s shoulders before entering the main studio that housed the people you grew to care about. Connie was manning the camera and lighting, Sasha trying her best to help Historia with adjusting her veil, and Armin pacing in the middle of the room with a hand on his chin. Historia’s fiancé, Ymir, was standing at the side clad in a white suit, worried for her lover’s situation. At the sound of your laugh, the blonde man looked up and instantly brightened, almost as if you were a goddess relieving them from their hardships, which is exactly why you’re there.

“Ma’am [Name]!” Armin exclaimed with brilliant sapphires directed at you. “I’m so happy you’re finally here!” He turned his head to the side to catch the attention of his coworkers. “Guys, she’s here!”

“Yey!” Sasha cheered.

“Miss [Name],” Historia breathed. “You’re finally here.”

“Don’t you worry, Historia,” you reassured, walking towards the small group of people. “Can you tell me what the problem is? Oh, and Sasha, there’s some food for all of you in Caelum’s bag.”

Caelum lifted the lunch bag in the air, jumping back when the brown-haired girl dashed in his direction with stretched arms. He let out a yelp when he felt a bone-crushing hug from the woman. She reminded him of Hange when he arrived home earlier. Caelum shakily laughed at the grip and swaying of Sasha. He could tell she was a lovable person and when she pulled away from him, a large grin mirrored his. “Hello, Sasha,” he greeted.

“Caelum, little prince!” she squealed. “Aw, you’re still so cute as ever. And you got an undercut!” She gasped. “It looks so good on you, champ.”

“Thank you.”

“So the veil is covering the backside of the gown,” you noted as Historia wore the train of fabric. Caelum and Sasha looked on to where you were standing, hair now tied in a high ponytail, locks curling against the back of your neck. “But if the veil isn’t there to accentuate the dress, it feels bare. Historia, love, can you try turning sideways with your chin up?” Historia followed your instructions, revealing the back of the dress where flowers were sewed on top of a see-through fabric covering the blonde’s back. You hummed, “Darling, is it alright if we change the veil?”

Caelum stared at you, eyes shining as you started to wear the façade of being the known designer in Europe. It clogged up his throat that he finally saw you like this. Years and years of talking to the stars and asking them if they can align your fates together to meet you for the first time were all worth it. Caelum bets that if it’s nighttime at the moment, the little dots making up the cosmos would shine even more, and they would rain their lights down on you. Because you were so beautiful that Caelum felt like crying. His mother is finally at his reach. He truly loved his dad but a motherly lullaby will be the one completing his dream. His dad would be over the moon seeing you this way, with your flowy dress and genuine smile, Caelum hoped that it was enough to make Levi fall in love again.

“Your mum is amazing, right?” Sasha knowingly told him. The boy was out of his trance, facing the woman who was munching on a piece of chocolate chip cookies. “Every time you would visit the studio, you always have that look on your face while watching your mum. It’s like, to you, Ma’am [Name] holds the entire universe in her hands. And I agree.” The brown-haired girl smiled, looking at you picking out some tulle in the nearby rack, Armin helping you decide. “You know that feeling where a person feels so far away yet they’re there in front of you? That describes what Ma’am [Name] is like to us. She sometimes got this faraway look that it’s hard to bring her back to us.”

Caelum pursed his lips. “I think she’s just missing someone.”

“Oh?” Sasha was surprised to hear that, especially since you have someone at the moment. “Do you know that person?”

The onyx-haired boy looked up at Sasha with a sad smile. “It’s a person across the ocean, longing for her, too.” He looked down at the carpeted floor. “It would take years for them to meet again but I know this time, something will kindle again.”

“That’s the person behind the name of this bridal shop, isn’t it?”

Caelum nodded. “I hear he’s an amazing man.”

“I think so, too.”

“Caelum, sweetheart,” you called out. “What do you think?” You gestured to Historia, intricately woven hair decorated with the veil you made at the last minute. It was a shoulder-length veil of a single-layered tulle, the top bunched up to imitate a band holding the fabric together. There were pinpricks of small gems in the veil, making it lovelier than before.

“It looks amazing, Mum,” the boy whispered, the response a signal enough for you to continue the photoshoot. There was movement in the corner of his eyes and Caelum found himself looking at an awestruck Ymir, eyes solely focused on her fiancé. Did his dad ever look at you like that when you were still together? Will he still look at you like that after years of separation?

“Can you check these shots, Ma’am [Name]?” Connie asked, showing you his camera screen.

“That’s beautiful. I love how Historia shows the gown like that. Historia, love, can you do those turns again? And smile the widest, think of this as your wedding day and Ymir is standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you. There we go! Did you get that, Connie?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Darling, are you still here?”

An unfamiliar voice came from the entrance. Sasha groaned in distaste, making Caelum curious as to who would barge in the studio without an appointment. It seems like it wasn’t only Sasha who expressed their dislike to the person, Armin had a wince on his face and Connie rolled his eyes inconspicuously because you were by his side. Caelum turned to the sound of the voice and a tall man clad in a three-piece suit greeted his eyes. The man’s face was contorted in a smug, cocky expression that screamed he was above everyone else. The gray-eyed boy heard Sasha mutter, “Arsehole,” under her breath. He furrowed his brows in confusion and irritation as the man sauntered inside the studio, making his way to you. His jaw fell to the ground when the unknown man wrapped his arms around your waist.

Caelum missed the way your form tense under the embrace of the man.

“Lucas, I’m working,” you told him in a flat tone, the earlier atmosphere dissipating at the arrival of this Lucas person. “I told you through the phone that I’m unavailable today. Why are you here?”

“Aw,” Lucas cooed, planting a kiss on the side of your neck. “I just miss my bride-to-be. Is that too much? I went into your house and asked that boisterous scientist friend of yours. Hannah? Is that her name?”

“Their name is Hange and don’t refer to them with a specific pronoun or call them boisterous,” you reminded him in a tired voice. “You know the reason, right?”

“Of course, silly me,” he laughed. “I texted and called you too many times this afternoon. Why aren’t you answering?”

“I had my phone on silent because I’m working.”

“Why have a phone if you don’t even use it?”

“Why come here if we don’t want to see your face?” Sasha murmured, hiding it behind a bite of a cookie.

“Who’s that?” Caelum asked no one in particular, his incredulous face showing a multitude of emotions.

“That man is Lucas Williams,” Armin answered since Sasha was too busy grumbling and eating at the same time. The blonde gave the boy a sympathetic smile. “Maybe your mum didn’t tell you this yet but that man over there, clinging like a koala to her, is her fiancé. We were actually surprised one day at the start of summer when your mum entered the shop with him following her like a clueless child. I heard from Ma’am [Name] that Lucas was the man your grandparents wanted her to marry when she was young. I think they set her up with him the moment you went away for summer camp.”

“No,” Caelum breathed, repeating it like a mantra.

“The little shite is here?” Lucas asked, looking around the room until his eyes met with dull gray irises. “There’s my future son. How was camp, Your Highness?” That nickname immediately settled a bad taste in Caelum’s mouth. It was too mocking for his liking. “It’s boring, right? Your mum insisted to let it happen because you were deprived of social interaction your whole life. Oh, stop looking at me like you’re ready to murder me. That’s so cute.”

The boy’s eyes transferred from the annoying man to your worried ones. His glare softened into a pleading pair of eyes, wordlessly asking you if what Armin said was true. You could only look away with a hurt expression and a hand over your arm, answering all the questions in his mind. No, this can’t be. If you’re to be married, what was going to happen to the plan? He was sure that you still love his dad, that you long for him, but why did you accept this proposal? What’s more distasteful was that this man had no care in his surroundings, being too loud that even Historia retreated to where Ymir was.

If looks could kill, This Lucas person would have been too deep in the ground for it to be called a grave.

And the more Caelum glared at him, the more he noticed things that are amiss — just like that faint imprint of pink lipstick on his neck, just below his ear. His eyes widened in realization, analyzing the way Lucas looked at you.

It wasn’t like the way Levi would look at your pictures.

There wasn’t any lingering affection and adoration in Lucas’s eyes.

Caelum will do anything to cut off Lucas from your life. A new plan will be set in motion, he hoped the other boy in California will accept the changes Caelum will be making.

The next morning when breakfast wafted through every part of the first floor of the [Last Name] residence, his phone rang with a very mysterious caller name, ‘Weatherby’. He excused himself from the dining table and locked himself in his room, leaving behind the questioning pairs of eyes following his running form. Sitting on the plush mattress of his bed, Caelum leaned forward until both elbows settled on top of his knees.

A posh voice that he was trying to imitate rang through the other line of the call, “It’s me. We have a major problem here. A pest made herself known. What’s your situation over there?”

Altair took a deep breath, losing the British accent. “Please don’t freak out, Cae, but,” there was a pause, “Mom’s getting married.”

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villainousshakespeare · 4 years ago

Text

Bobby’s Playdate Part 2

Part 1

The pandemic is keeping Tom idling in London by himself. One positive is that wearing the mask helps him avoid recognition, allowing him to wander in the park with his dog, Bobby. On one of their walks, Bobby becomes smitten with a dog named Lulu and Tom is equally enchanted by her human. Can the Hiddleston men manage to find a way to see the lovely ladies again?

Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Chapter 2 of4

Rated M - Pandemic, Fluff, Quarantine, Masks, Adorable Puppies, Meet Cute, Second Part May (will) Contain Smut

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere, from-hel-i-with-love, @sweetsigyn, @fictiondoesitbetter, @ms-cellanies @evieplease @viviennes-tears @turniptitaness @cynic-spirit @spooky1980 @ghostypau @viviennes-tears @lady-loki-ren

I am so sorry I took so long to update this! First I was distracted by a super busy week, and then I decided to rework what I had in store for it. It took a while to redo, but I have decided to make it a 4 part story. Hope you enjoy, and that the wait was worth it!

The day had started out like every other since the lock down began. Leia had slept late, having no where to go. A cold, wet kiss on her nose from Lulu woke her up when the pup could no longer wait to be let out and grumbling she had taken her out for a quick walk up and down the block. After two cups of coffee and some melon, Leia had realized that after three months of enforced solitude, both she and her dog had gotten decidedly surly. It was time to get out, even if it was only to the local park.

Lulu’s excitement when she took out the little pink and white checked dress had been enough to put a smile on Leia’s face. Really, the small dog was a ridiculous creature, but she could be such a bundle of sunshine. After they were both outfitted – Lulu in her dress and Leia in a comfy outfit and mask, they made their way to the nearby park, enjoying a leisurely stroll around the newly green paths. She wished that Lulu was not too timid to play in the dog run, but after spending a year in the shelter the poor thing was terrified of other dogs.

That was why she was so surprised when Lulu’s tale began to wag excitedly. Normally she would have been cowering and whimpering in fear at the sound of another dog approaching, but for once her reaction was completely different. She jumped up from where she had been snuggling on Leia’s lap and perked up her ears, tongue lolling out happily. When the chocolate spaniel came trotting around the bend, she even jumped of Leia and strained at the leash to meet him.

Keeping a tight hold on Lulu’s leash, Leia let her eyes travel up the lead attached to the strange dog. It was quite a long trip, as it happened, past a pair of long legs in torn jogging pants, a faded shirt that would once have been bright blue, and a plain black mask until she got to a set of smiling blue eyes that made her heart stop.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, “I promise he is completely friendly.”

She had known who he was instantly, of course. No face mask could disguise those cheek bones, the copper curls that brushed his collar, or the baby blues that had sent a million fan girls swooning. If she had had any doubts, one word from that sinful voice, a verbal caress of polite friendliness, would have stamped it out. She had seen almost all of his movies, after all, and quite a number of his promotional appearances as well.

“It’s okay, so is she,” she replied struggling to keep her voice normal and grateful for the mask that hid her stunned initial gape. “You know, she’s usually quite shy, but she seems to like him! May I pet him?”

And then Tom Hiddleston – The Tom Hiddleston! – had sat down on the bench next to her while she petted Bobby and struck up a casual conversation! She had kept her eyes on the pups at first, afraid that if she looked at him, he would see the excitement and intimidation in her eyes. He introduced himself, needlessly, of course, and she gave him her name in a kind of daze. She realized that he had only provided his first name and had the quick flash of insight that he might be enjoying the idea of anonymity. If that were the case, she would not want to spoil it for him by gushing. Uncertain of what to do, she let the obvious joke about her name lead her to mentioning Marvel characters. That way, she decided, he would have a segue to talking about his career should he want to. When he let it slide and quickly changed the subject, she decided that her assumption must have been correct.

Which was absolutely fine with her! She was sitting and talking to Tom Hiddleston! While she would, of course, love to pick his brain about Loki, or Shakespeare, or any of a dozen projects, she was more than happy to listen to him discuss his dog in that proud pappa voice. By the time she had told him the story behind Lulu’s dress excitement she was reasonably settled and could actually manage to look him in the eye without blushing.

She had met a few famous people in her time as a London tour guide, and many of them had been a colossal let down. Tom was not one of them. He was everything she had ever imagined or hoped he would be. Kind, funny, clever, a little prone to talk on about any subject he happened on, but in all a delightful conversation partner. She was disappointed but not surprised when he had to leave, but she didn’t want to be too greedy; it was already one of the most magical afternoons of his life. When he mentioned running into them again, she almost squealed with excitement, just barely managing to keep her face impassive.

Thus began a fairy tale of month for Leia and Lulu. After two days of rain, during which she was certain he would forget all about her, they had found the boys again at the same spot. Leia half wondered if she were simply dreaming, but if so, she had no desire to wake up. They met up with Tom and Bobby most days, walking for hours sometimes as they discussed London, their childhoods, school. She learned quickly that he changed the subject instinctively whenever anything came up that might lead to his career. She could respect that. It must be hard, she thought, being always in the public eye. For her own part, Leia tacitly decided to keep the subject of her book a secret. After all, a fantasy story based on Norse Mythology, with Loki playing a leading role, was bound to bring up the sort of conversation he obviously wished to avoid.

As time went on, she began to forget he was a movie star and just think of him as her friend, insane as that struck her when she stopped to look at it. Oh, she was still absurdly attracted to him, but it was no longer for his stunning character portrayals or teasing banter with interviewers. No, the teasing banter she was interested in now was much more personal for her. He was delightful company, unfailingly polite, quick with a wickedly funny comment or a profound musing on life. In short, Leia was well and truly smitten. Hopelessly, she thought with a sigh.

When he invited her to his home, she could barely believe it. A casual acquaintance in the park was one thing, a dinner chez Hiddleston was completely different. She knew it was in large part for the sake of the puppies, and that was fine. Lulu was as besotted with Bobby as Leia was with Tom, only in this case it was obviously mutual. Leia would just have to be careful to guard her heart. She was not a part of his real life, and she needed to remember that, even if they never discussed it.

***

Bobby started barking seconds before the buzzer rang, his tail wagging back and forth at a frantic pace. Tom, scarcely less excited, gave a quick glance in the mirror before slipping on his mask and opening the door.

Leia stood on his doorstep looking even more lovely than usual. Her simple leggings and long tee had been replaced by a pretty, floral sundress in shades of red and yellow and her hair, usually tied up or back, was long and curling about her shoulders. Tom swallowed and tried to keep his eyes from doing too obvious an up and down of her body. It was difficult, considering the shape of her legs and amount of them showing. Lulu’s yip drew his eyes down to her, and he saw that she was dressed in a purple polka dotted number for the evening, her hair sporting several sparkly clips to keep her braids from coming undone.

“Hi, welcome!” he greeted them, straining to keep Bobby from leaping out the door. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thanks,” she smiled with her eyes as he ushered her inside.

“You found the place alright?”

“Your directions were perfect,” she assured him, glancing around at his newly bare entryway. “It’s quite the posh street you live on! I don’t think I’ve ever been into one of these houses.”

“Oh, it’s just like any other home,” he said modestly, feeling stupid as he did. His house had an electronic gate (that he had left unlocked for her) and a private surveillance system. He knew it was not the usual home. “I can give you a tour later if you like.”

“I’d love that. Whatever you have cooking smells delicious!”

“Thanks. I’ll have to check on it in a bit. For now, though, why don’t we go out back? I have some drinks chilling.”

He gestured for her to proceed him and subtly steered her past the kitchen and living room and out the sliding glass doors into the back. The yard was pretty, a nice square plot with flowers growing along the fence on three sides and one large tree giving shade. A table with four chairs and a grill stood on a little stone area, and Tom had set it up with a selection of glasses for beer, wine, and mixed drinks. A pitcher of iced water stood next to a bottle of dry rose in an ice bucket, and another small bucket contained iced beers.

“Here you go, Bobby,” he unleashed the spaniel who instantly tore off around the yard, looking for his favorite toy. “Why don’t you two have a nice frolic.”

“Oh Lulu, this will be fun!” Leia cooed to her pup, also removing her dog’s leash.

As the little dog scampered off after Bobby, Tom took a deep breath and turned to her owner. Now was the moment he had been waiting for.

“I suppose since we are alone and outside and all… as long as we stay six feet apart… would you mind?” he gestured towards his mask.

“Not at all. Oh, and I got my negative test results back. I have a copy on my phone if you want to see them!” she offered.

“No need, I trust you,” he was quick to assure her. “I got mine as well.”

It was strange – until a few months ago he would have felt tremendously awkward wearing a mask around another person. Even when he had needed to wear one for a few scenes in Only Lovers Left Alive it had seemed tremendously cumbersome and rather silly. Now though, Tom realized that he could not remember the last time he had been around another person without one. There was something shockingly intimate in the act of taking it off in front of Leia, and he found himself feeling almost shy. Blushing a bit, he unhooked the straps from around his ears and took the fabric from in front of his mouth, setting it on one of the chairs.

His eyes fastened on her as she reached up to do the same, the red mask peeling away to reveal a small bow of a mouth, pink lips curved in a slight smile. Her chin was slightly pointed and had a cute little half dimple to one side. Smile lines were just barely visible and added to the appeal of her face. It was a very kissable mouth, he decided.

“Hi,” he said, rather fatuously, face breaking into a sheepish grin. “I’m Tom.”

“Hi Tom,” she smiled back, and his heart skipped a beat. “I’m Leia.”

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, until he cleared his throat and pointed to a chair.

“Please, have a seat,” he managed to say. “As you see, I have wine, beer, water, or I could make you a cocktail if you’d rather. Or lemonade if you prefer a soft drink…” he realized he was babbling and cut himself off.

“Wine would be nice,” she said, sitting down and crossing one long leg over the other, giving him a lovely glimpse of her thigh.

“Right, wine it is,” he said, uncorking the bottle and grabbing a glass. “I hope it’s alright. My sister loves this brand, she brought it when she was here last, and it is better than anything I would have known to get.”

“Not a wine guy?” she asked, accepting the glass from him.

“Oh, I like a good hearty red with a steak now and then, and I will definitely have some with dinner tonight – I hope you like Italian, by the way – but for casual drinking, I’m more of a beer or scotch fan myself.”

While he prattled on Tom opened up one of the beers and poured it into a pint glass. When the foam had gone down a bit, he raised the glass and tilted it towards her.

“To deepening new friendships,” he dared to say, eyes finding hers.

They clinked their glasses, and he took a long sip of the hoppy beverage, hoping he hadn’t over stepped.

“To embracing human interaction!” she added. “Selectively, of course.”

Well, she obviously didn’t recognize him. That was a relief. He had been half worried that she would shriek, or become tongue tied, or worse. It was remarkable to him how many women seemed to have extreme reactions to meeting him. He was so ordinary! Just an overgrown ginger kid from Wimbledon. It wasn’t like they were meet Daniel Day Lewis for god’s sake. On the other hand, he couldn’t help feeling the tiniest twinge of disappointment. He worked hard at his job, after all, and was proud of the reputation he had developed and of the work he had done. It was strange, with how up on everything Leia always seemed, that she didn’t have any knowledge of Marvel at least, or The Night Manager. Still, some people didn’t watch a lot of movies and TV, or if they did it was more intellectual fare.

They both leaned back in their chairs and watched the dogs play chase back and forth. Tom found his eyes drifting back to her, staring at her mouth. He had never realized just how much a person’s mouth said about them. Leia’s smiled as a default, giving her a more youthful look than she had when it was covered. There was something fresh and approachable about her that he was drawn to.

The conversation was light and easy. Neither of them had been doing much of anything lately, so they resorted to telling older stories from their childhoods. Tom was amused to think of Leia playing with her friends, insisting that no, she wanted to be Han Solo despite what her thoughtless parents had named her. Tom, of course, had wanted to play all of the characters, and delighted her with his spot-on Darth Vadar and Grand Moff Tarkin impressions.

“You were a terror, weren’t you?” she laughed as he described bossing his sister about the correct way to make the light saber noises.

“A bit, yeah,” he admitted. “Emma and Sarah would probably say more than a bit. They had it coming though.”

“I’m sure they would agree with that, too,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s not my fault they couldn’t take direction,” he grinned. “I’m sure you would have made an excellent Han Solo. With the proper lessons.”

“Perhaps you can make me your student after dinner, if we have enough wine,” she suggested.

He knew she meant it innocently enough, but he felt a blush creep up his cheeks at the image her words planted in his mind. Leia in a schoolgirl outfit, bent over his desk flashing through his brain was enough to make him reach for his beer and gulp down more than was advisable. She seemed to realize after a moment, as she too reached for her glass and took a long swallow.

Lulu chose that moment to break away from where they had been digging around the tree and came running over to them, something grimy hanging from her mouth.

“What have you got there, peanut?” Leia sked, sounding a bit relieved.

“She seems to have unearthed one of Bobby’s treasures,” Tom smiled, glad of the distraction himself.

“Here, princess, you want me to throw it for you?”

Leia held out her hand and she happily dropped the toy into it. Tom looked at the toy and felt his jaw go slack and his eyes frantic. It was Loki. Of course it was. One of Bobby’s favorite toys, naturally, given to him during the lead up to one of the movies, the thick ropes of green and gold formed a long God of Mischief chew toy/tug of war combo, complete with horns. Tom licked his lips, glancing quickly at Leia, only to see that she was smiling down at her fluffy pup.

“Oh, Lulu, Look! It’s just like yours, only a bit more loved,” she said with a laugh. “Good girl, saving the handsome prince from a shallow grave. Loki never stays dead for long!”

With another laugh she took the toy and threw it across the yard, Lulu and Bobby both quickly scampering off after it. Tom gaped at her, uncertain what to say.

“You must have a lot of those,” she commented off handedly.

“You… you know?” he stammered.

“Know what?”

“Who I am?” it sounded stupid and conceited to his own ears.

“Well, I hope so since I’m in your home.”

“No, I mean you know what I do for a living,” he ground out, feeling like an utter ass.

“Of course,” she told him, quirking her lips.

“Since when?” he choked out.

“Since the first day. You’re not exactly easy to mistake, Tom.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t seem to want to talk about it. I figured it must get old, people falling all over themselves around you, treating you like you’re not even human.”

“Yeah. Yeah it does.”

“So I took my cue from you.”

“I see,” he was completely flummoxed. “And you have a Loki toy? For Lulu, I mean?”

“Of course, he’s our favorite! Poor, misunderstood boy. You know, I am glad I have the opportunity to tell you now how good you are. And not just as Loki. You were breath taking in Betrayal.”

“You saw Betrayal?”

“Twice. Stunning work.”

He knew his mouth was opening and closing stupidly, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. She had known, all this time. She had been humoring him by not talking about it. He was not entirely sure how to feel about that.

“Tom is everything alright?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“Was that why you talked to me?” he heard himself asking. “Why you agreed to come over? Because I am famous?”

“No,” she said slowly. “I came over because you asked, and because I like you. Yes, I was a bit star struck at first, but I got past it. Are you angry? I just assumed you realized.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I… I should go check on dinner.”

“Tom, really, are you okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Be right back.”

Turning tail, he fled into the house, mind in complete turmoil at the new turn of events.

#Tom Hiddleston #Bobby Hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #Fanfic #rpf fanfic #rpf #tom hiddleston rpf #Tom Hiddleston/OFC #Fluff #Lock Down #slight angst #romance #dating in quarantine #future smut #flirting #puppy love #Bobby gets a girlfriend too!#adorable #Bobby's Playdate

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calenheniel · 3 years ago

Text

In Fantasy, a frozen fanfic | Chapter 8

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | G+

In a desperate bid to save their country from political and financial ruin, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of Arendelle strike a deal with a former foe, King Albert of the Southern Isles. His price? That their firstborn daughter marry his thirteenth son.

Follow updates: #InFantasyFrozen

Find the full chapter on AO3, Wattpad, and FF.Net. Links on my profile and a chapter preview below the line!

»»————-　❈　————-««

Chapter 8: Into the Valley

The trail was dark but for the small lantern Hans had managed to sneak out of the castle, cursing as he stopped his horse for what seemed the hundredth time to check the map.

“You went back to the damn parlor to look inconspicuous, and for what?” he muttered to himself, squinting at the vague squiggle of a red line on the worn and yellowed page. “Now you’re lost in the mountains the night before your wedding, you’ve lost a small fortune at whist, and you’re pretty sure your excuse to go for a midnight ride didn’t work on the stable boy…”

His horse snorted – in amusement or agreement or both, the prince could not tell – and Hans sighed, tucking the page back in his coat pocket as he spurred it onwards.

“Yes, Sitron. I know I’m a fool. I don’t need you rubbing it in.” He kept their pace at a moderate trot, not wanting to alarm the forest to their presence, and threw a dour glance at the sky above them. “I must be a little rusty reading the stars, or else this place doesn’t actually exist—”

A dim light filtering through the trees was just visible ahead of them, its long, slender fingers beckoning them to approach.

His eyes widened at the sight, pausing on the path. “Do you see that, old boy?” he whispered to Sitron, who whinnied quietly with unease. “I think we’re finally getting somewhere.” The prince nudged his reluctant steed with an apple, gesturing to the bag attached to the saddle. “There’s more where that came from, if you get us over there.”

Sitron huffed but obliged, trotting even more carefully as the light grew brighter the closer they came to it. When the distant sounds of voices gathered in song were distinct enough for him to make out, Hans motioned for the horse to stop, hopped off the saddle, and drew his hood over his head.

He tied Sitron to a nearby tree, placating him with another apple, and patted him once on the nose.

“I’ll be back. Just stay here and don’t make a fuss.”

The horse seemed to glare at him, at which Hans rolled his eyes with a small smile, leaving the creature to proceed through the forest on foot. He ducked under the cover of tall and broad trees, dipping in and out of their shadows until he was close enough to discover the source of the noise.

In a clearing just a few dozen feet from him was a collection of small, round creatures, seemingly made from natural materials, their joyful, dancing little bodies resplendent and shining from the baubles and jewels and mossy raiment they wore. They paraded around a bonfire as high as the surrounding trees, laughing and singing and waving sticks and other instruments of unidentified purpose in the air with abandon.

“Trolls,” he murmured, eyes wide with fascination.

#InFantasyFrozen #frozen #frozen fanfic #frozen fanfiction #helsa

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esmealux · 3 years ago

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Hi there! For the two-part drabble, may I request Deckerstar in situation 13 (someone does something stupid) with sentence 6 ("Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.") Thank you, and I've really really been enjoying your the updates on your Planning a Hell of a Wedding fic!

Hey! It took me two months (including more than one month of writing) but I've now finally finished your prompt. Another anon had requested 25 (being somewhere you're not supposed to) + 6 and dear @my-crazy-awesome-sox had requested 26 (a very cheesy date) + 6, so I've merged all your prompts into one 7K+ long 'drabble'. Hope you don't mind!

And I'm glad you like the updates on PHW! I'll try to write some more now that I've finished this.

Hope you like this!

Also, an immense special thanks to @my-crazy-awesome-sox for helping me with this fic. She truly has been a godsend, and a lot of the wording (especially in the later parts) is kindly and almost directly borrowed from her mind. Thank you again, babe!

Also thanks to @lightbringer-666 for assisting me with some French. If all the French isn't perfect, it's because I also googled my way to a lot of it. Apologies in advance (and please do let me know if there's anything I should change!)

Someone does something stupid + being somehwere you're not supposed to + a very cheesy date + 'Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.'

Rated M. Post 5B - contains spoilers!

Read on AO3 (includes list with English translations)

It’s ridiculous, really. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach like she’s a schoolgirl waiting for her prom date. It’s not even their first date. It’s not even their second. The thing is, between becoming God and Consultant, revising a few laws of the cosmos, fixing some bugs in humanity, bringing Dan to Heaven, and going to therapy, she and Lucifer haven’t had much time for, well, each other. At least not in ways that didn’t involve discussions about the redesign of the afterworld and how to sate world hunger. So yes, she is a little giddy with excitement at the thought of having a whole evening to themselves—no celestial craziness. Just the two of them and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest.

If Lucifer would just show up.

She checks her phone. 06:14. Unlike last time she anxiously waited for him in a restaurant, there’s a text.

Running a bit late. Please forgive me. Can’t wait to see you ❤

And one more.

Sorry. Can’t wait to see you naked*

Chloe shakes her head, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She resists typing back a flirty reply—he’ll be with her in a minute, and she is nota schoolgirl—and puts her phone back in her clutch. Hands trembling a little, she smooths out invisible creases in the dress he’s bought her. It’s short and tight, of course, but perfectly so. Reaching mid-thigh, with a small slit revealing a bit more of her left thigh. Black, unsurprisingly; he still hasn’t gotten over how delectable she looked in the LBD she wore on their last ‘date’. And this one makes her legs look even longer, which is undoubtedly the primary reason Lucifer picked it. Still, it isn’t skimpy. He could have opted for a deep neckline and cold shoulders—she almost expected him to when he said he’d bought her a dress—but he didn’t. Instead, the short and skin-tight skirt is perfectly balanced with a high neck and long bell sleeves that are cut open just above her joints, making the soft fabric flow around her bare underarms. She likes it—would probably have bought it herself if it weren’t crazy expensive. Likes how it makes her feel both sexy and classy and most of all comfortable, likes that he knows her so well.

She fidgets with her earring and traces the rim of her empty wine glass with her fingertip, watching people as much as she can from their semi-private corner. She spots an Oscar-winning film director, a retired NFL player, that pop star Lucifer pretends to hate, and just how expensive isthis place?

She’s immediately distracted by the shift in the air and the sound of Italian loafers approaching her.

‘My me, Detective!’

His brown eyes roam her figure as she stands to kiss him. Their lips meet in a soft peck that could easily have turned into more if Lucifer hadn’t pulled away to look her up and down.

‘You look like a goddess.’

Chloe snorts and chuckles, not yet used to the title he insists is hers if she’ll have it. She puts a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with a smile.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He hums and leans in for another kiss, but something comes between them this time. They both look down—at a dozen red roses.

‘Those for me?’ she asks, warmth spreading in her chest.

Lucifer hands her the bouquet with a nod and that soft smile she loves more than anything. He pulls out her chair, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sits down, and sits down himself.

There’s a card nestled between the velvet petals: ‘For the Detective & Consultant’, her old and new moniker scribbled side by side in his annoyingly elegant handwriting. The latter nickname, however, is written in smaller, cramped letters—an afterthought. She smiles.

She turns the card, expecting to find a dirty, eye-roll-deserving comment on the back. But there’s no lewd joke or naughty promise.

It simply says, ‘I love you.’

Her heart swells, filling her chest till it aches. It’s all so new still. Not the love between them, but how it’s uninhibited now. It’s not like they don’t have their obstacles—just yesterday they had a fight—but there’s no doubt anymore, no voices telling them some dreams simply cannot be. They might have a whole universe to deal with, but for the first time ever, things between them are easy. No words are left unsaid. No feelings are squashed. No time is wasted. Every day is spent wrapped in each other’s love. Finally.

‘I love you too,’ she tells him, and he lights up, amazed. Confident. Their hands find each other on the table, fingers intertwining.

A waiter comes by with two menu cards and a vase for the flowers. Chloe reads through the menu carefully, pretending to know what kind of food hides behind the fancy French names. Lucifer sees right through her, sighs, and orders some hors d’œuvres, two of something she couldn’t pronounce if she tried, and a bottle of red.

‘So, were you stuck in traffic, or…?’ Chloe asks him with a glint in her eye as the waiter pours her a generous glass of wine. The celestial being with the supernatural metabolism can drive home.

The being in question looks confused for a moment before he answers, ‘Ah, no. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ For a brief second, he looks at her as if he’s apologising for more than tonight, but she strokes his knuckles and smiles at him, you’re here now, and he moves on to explain himself. ‘I just couldn’t find this bloody suit. Only when I’d ransacked the house did I realise it was still at the penthouse, so I had to make a detour.’

He is a little excused; so many things are impossible to find right now, with more or less unpacked boxes spread out between her apartment, Lux, and their new home. In hindsight, moving in together while taking over the almighty family business probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’ll get settled soon enough. Besides, right now, what’s important is that Lucifer was late because of a wardrobe crisis, and she will not let that slide.

‘You couldn’t just wear one of your three hundred other suits?’

A flicker of hurt and sheepishness flashes across Lucifer’s face.

‘Well, this one is special.’

Chloe takes in his suit: the navy jacket, the matching waistcoat, the royal blue shirt.

‘Oh.’

He smirks at her as heat creeps up her cheeks (so much for not being a schoolgirl).

‘You remember?’

She does. Of course, she does. She remembers vividly—how shocked he’d been at first, how new and soft his lips had felt against hers. How they’d held onto each other until the sun was setting and she really did have to go home and feed Maze and Trixie.

She also remembers how she, later, behind closed lids, had ripped off the shirt and waistcoat in desperate need. How it’d earned her a husky chuckle and a breathy ‘D’tective!’, and the sinful Heaven that was his hot and open mouth.

‘You okay, darling?’ Lucifer looks at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

Chloe takes a sip of wine and clears her throat. Adjusts her necklace.

‘Yeah, just, you know. Reminiscing.’

He studies her flushed face for a second before his curious smile spreads into a full-blown Cheshire grin.

‘You had a wet dream about me, didn’t you?! After our first kiss?’

Chloe glares at him. ‘Say it a little louder for the people in the back, will ya?’ He opens his mouth, and she immediately feels the need to clarify, ‘Do not say it a little louder for the people in the back.’

His smile doesn’t falter. ‘I’m just ecstatic to know our first kiss left you all hot and bothered. I mean, not that I’m surprised.’ He brings his wine glass to his lips and lets go of her hand to gesture down himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you didn’t go home and wanked yourself blind that night.’

He laughs, surprised by her bluntness, and shamelessly answers, ‘Why, of course I did. That night, other nights. Before and after that kiss. This morning. You serve as quite the spank bank, my dear.’

She definitely doesn’t blush at that. But she does glance down at his waistcoat, at the soft skin and hard muscles she knows hide beneath it. She gives him a slow and dirty smirk, appreciative.

‘You too, baby.’

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening. Much to Chloe’s satisfaction, his neck and cheeks redden a little. Then he gives her a lopsided grin, smug and impressed.

‘Pray tell, Detective.’ His eyes glide down her face, her chest, her stomach, and slowly back up again.

In another time, she would have given him a stern look and told him it was none of his business, but she doesn’t. She also doesn’t tell him about lonely nights and long showers and crying his name into her pillow when they were still just friends. Instead, she leans across the table and half-whispers—

‘If you behave yourself tonight, I might show you.’

He gulps. Squirms a little in his seat, and—when he’s regained his composure and quite indiscreetly adjusted himself under the table—leans forward till there’s only mere inches between their faces.

‘Is that a promise?’ His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against her face. His eyes drop to her lips.

‘Pardon, monsieur, mais l’entrée est prête.’

They lean back in their seats and turn to the poor, young waiter, who’s balancing two seemingly heavy plates, a carafe of water, and a basket of crusty bread in his arms.

‘Lovely!’ Lucifer’s eyes follow the food as the waiter puts it down in front of them. ‘Merci beaucoup, Olivier.’

Olivier smiles at Lucifer, shy but with a look in his eyes Chloe knows all too well. She doesn’t blame him.

‘Ça va?’ Lucifer asks, his voice lined with genuine fondness.

Olivier nods. ‘Oui, ça va. Et toi?’

Lucifer looks to Chloe, beaming. He takes her hand on the table and interlocks their fingers again.

‘Tout va très bien,’ he answers, looking back up at Olivier with a dazzling smile.

Olivier’s eyes drop to their hands and, probably, to the ring, white and pearlescent, on Chloe’s third finger. His lips tug up at the corner.

‘Je peux voir ça. Félicitations!’ Before Lucifer can respond to that, whatever it means, Olivier gestures towards their food. ‘Et bon appétit.’

Lucifer replies with a friendly ‘merci’ and calls out something like ‘Salue ton père de ma part!’ as Olivier walks off.

Chloe stares at Lucifer, twirling the smashed bullet around her neck between her fingers.

‘What?’ he asks, curious.

She tilts her head, smiling. ‘French suits you.’

He smiles back, lasciviously. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm-hm.’

The look he gives her leaves no doubt that, sooner or later, he’ll be whispering foreign phrases against her skin.

But right now, they have other appetites to sate. They dig into the first course, and the (assumedly) insanely high prices suddenly make sense, because it is frigging good. The main course is even more delicious—divine, actually, to the point where Chloe has to ask Lucifer if he accidentally spiked the food with a blessing or two. He assures her it’s all Olivier’s father, no holiness involved, apart from Chef Beaumont’s heavenly cœeur de filet de bœuf. Chloe moans in agreement, savouring every bite.

He watches her with a smile, jokingly apologising for not serving her grilled cheese, and she makes a bad joke about this date being cheesy enough as it is. Because it is cheesy. Him buying her a dress, bringing her red roses, the love note, the candlelit restaurant, the French food, not to mention the suit. It’s like a rom-com parody.

But it’s also perfect. It’s everything she’s longed for, an over-the-top romantic date night with her- with her partner. A date that isn’t cut short by a horny stewardess (may she rest in peace) or a failed attempt at exorcism; where Lucifer actually shows up and isn’t just trying to outdo another man; where Chloe isn’t trying to make him ‘do something good for a change’; and their parents aren’t tagging along on a headache-inducing surprise double date that is also a sting in disguise.

So, in some ways, it is kinda their first date.

And it’s a really, really nice date.

They laugh—they laugh so much. More than they’ve done in the past few months combined. Or so it feels, at least.

They laugh, and they talk. About movies they cried to, favourite drinks, and how they’re gonna paint the living room. About the summers spent under the plum tree in Nana’s garden, and all the pranks pulled in the gilded meadows of Heaven. About chasing Amenadiel through the clouds, and how Chloe always wanted a sibling. About her short-lived Hollywood experience and that one time she may have gotten a little high at a Backstreet Boys concert. (He seems impressed by that, her ‘abhorrent’ taste in music aside.) They exchange secrets they never told anyone, stories of bad kisses—Jed used too much tongue; Will was always better with words—and tales from drunken nights out. They reminisce on the first time they met—how annoying she’d found him, how compelling he’d found her—and the many, many cases, some really weird, that first encounter led to.

They talk about Dan.

About missing him, even though he’s making waffles with Charlotte now.

About Trixie, and how therapy seems to be helping her, too. How she still sometimes breaks down crying, but no longer crawls into their bed in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for air. How she’d laughed the other day, and it’d made them both cry. How incredibly strong she is, that little urchin.

They talk about going to Paris one day, all three of them—the French do make excellent chocolate cakes—or maybe somewhere else she wants to see, once everything is calmer. They talk about some of the prayers Lucifer has been hearing, about faith and free will, what they miss about solving crimes together, what they don’t miss, and how they’re still very much partners, even more so now—in every corner of life.

They talk till their cheeks hurt from smiling and Chloe’s half-drunk on expensive Burgundy. Lucifer asks for the cheque, their food long gone, and pays with cash, making sure to leave a tip possibly the size of Olivier’s monthly salary.

They leave the restaurant giggling about a stupid joke Lucifer makes, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. Her own hand is placed much lower than what is decent for such a fancy place like this, practically cupping his ass, but she’s tipsy enough not to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. It’s his own fault, anyway, for having his pants tailored to hug his butt like this.

Naturally, Lucifer drives. He doesn’t hold back his comments on how slow and boring her car is, but at least he stays somewhere close to the speed limit. She wishes he’d also wear a seatbelt, and keep both hands on the wheel, but his palm is nice and warm on her thigh, and she trusts he’ll get them home safely. She leans back in her seat, her head comfortably buzzing from wine and him, and watches the blurry city lights through the window. He’s turned down 2ndStreet.

‘Where are we going?’ She looks over at him, curious.

He smiles in the shadows, his fingers stroking the skin left exposed by the slit in her dress. His touch leaves hot, tingling paths on her thigh.

‘I thought we’d go for a second desert.’

Chloe is beyond full, her dress stretched over her now slightly rounder belly, and she can think of other things she’d rather do (things that include pinning Lucifer to their bed and making him groan and beg and laugh), but she’ll never say no to a freshly brewed latte and watching Lucifer obscenely enjoy some Sicilian pastry.

She turns up the radio, fumbling a bit, and closes her eyes with a smile, more content than she’s been in… a long time. His hand stays on her thigh as they move through the night, fingers tapping to the beat of the songs against her skin, creeping higher, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch, but nothing more, and then back down again. Maybe they’ll just take that latte to-go.

The car comes to a final halt, and first then does Chloe realise they haven’t stopped outside the late-night café and bakery that’s opened down on Spring Street.

‘Lucifer, what’—she looks around, double-checking—‘what are we doing at the back entrance to the precinct? You said we were getting desert.’

He leans across the centre console, fingers spreading on her thigh, and brings their faces so close their noses touch. Chloe swallows.

‘We are,’ he assures her with a wolfish grin, his gaze lingering hungrily on her, and she could jump him right then and there. But he takes his hand off her body and clicks her seatbelt free, pulls the key out of the ignition and exits the car. He strides to her side and opens the door for her, gentlemanly as ever, and she watches him with narrowed eyes as she takes his hand and steps out, sceptical even in her cloud of lust and inebriation.

He heads directly for the back entrance and opens the black iron door with ease, rudely ignoring the state-of-the-art security locks. A part of her knows she should stop him right there and give him a stern talking-to about respecting human laws—he still can’t do whatever the hell he likes just because he’s God now. But another part, the part of her who helped him empty two bottles of French wine, really wants to step over that threshold, to intertwine their fingers and go on a late-night adventure. And that part of her must overpower the other, because she lets him snake his arm around her waist and lead her through the door and inside the familiar building.

She senses him grinning by her side, his fingers curling around her hip in a deliciously tight grip that only stokes the heat pooling low in her belly. He takes her down the corridor, around the corner, and then they’re there, in the middle of the precinct. Everything is covered in darkness, the wide, open space only illuminated by a never-resting info screen and the purplish glow from the vending machine. Still, she can make out the shape of their desk, the door to Ella’s lab, the interrogation room. The fridge in the breakroom still hums obnoxiously, and the air smells like strong coffee and sugary glaze—or maybe that’s just a phantom. Either way, it all tugs at her heart, beckons her down memory lane, and she lets herself be pulled. Through the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Lucifer is quiet beside her, probably lost in nostalgia himself, or maybe just letting her have this moment. But not for long. With titillating eagerness and a devilish smirk, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her by the hand—towards the evidence closet.

He presses her up against the door, his body hot and hard against hers, and pins her hand against the cold glass of the frosted window. His dark eyes sparkle with mischievous excitement.

‘There’s something we never got to try.’

Her pulse quickens, blood humming loud and hot.

‘Lucifer, we can’t.’ She tries to sound firm around her suddenly heavy breaths and dry throat, but he doesn’t seem discouraged in the least.

He leans in, closer, his smirking lips brush against her ear. ‘Can’t we, now?’

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites it.

Chloe smothers a gasp.

‘We shouldn’t.’ She puts her hand on his chest and pushes her head against his, nudging him away from her neck so she can thinkfor a second. He reluctantly obeys and settles for placing his hands on her sides, dangerously high, thumbs almost stroking the underside of her breasts. She pushes his hands down to her waist. ‘We shouldn’t have sex in Evidence—shouldn’t have broken into the precinct in the first place. I mean, do you want us to get arrested?’

He only laughs at that, of course. ‘I’m God, darling. I won’t get arrested.’

Chloe rolls her eyes. He would probably charm his way out of it if they were caught, God or not—but that doesn’t make any of this okay. She’s about to tell him as much when he adds-

‘But if you wanted to cuff me and tell me what to do, resisting would be the last thing on my mind. In fact, I’m sure we can find some cuffs lying about-’

‘Lucifer, no.’

Her tone is sharper than she’d intended. He pulls back a little, studying her face. His eyes flicker to her parted lips, her flushed, heaving chest, and then back to her determined gaze. His brows furrow.

‘Do you really not want to do this?’ His voice is soft, serious.

They stare at each other, hot breaths mingling. He’s still pressed up against her, a six-foot-three wall of muscle and love, and his scent—spicy cologne and smoke—floods her head like ambrosia, a dizzying fog of him. Her skin burns beneath his palms, his touch sending embers through the expensive fabric and down, flames licking at her inner thighs. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears.

‘We don’t even work here anymore,’ she rasps, deflecting his question. It’s a weak excuse, but she is fraying at the edges.

A salacious smile forms on Lucifer’s face. ‘We’ll just pretend we do.’

He takes a step back, putting a more ‘professional’ distance between them, adjusts his lapels and attempts at a neutral expression. ‘You wanted to show me something in Evidence, Detective?’

And there’s that word again, want—because she still hasn’t answered his question and her consent means more to him than anything. She loves him for that, she really does, but right now, it’s not that simple. She wants, every cell in her body wants, wants him to shove her into that closet and take her apart. Has wanted it for so long, thought about it for years—at her desk, in the shower, while sitting next to him during interrogations. Thought about it in the self-same evidence closet, as she was pressed up against the wall by someone else. Imagined tugging at his hair, feeling him between her legs—even had to swallow his name. She still thinks about it, thought about it the other night, briefly, wistfully, while making a cup of tea. Thought about how much fun they could have had, sneaking off to secret corners of the precinct like two horny teenagers—if it hadn’t been for, well, mostly Michael, and all the chaos he’d released upon their lives.

In fact, it’s only fair they have at least one reckless, semi-public rendezvous. Just one. To make up for the honeymoon phase they never really had. With all the hurt and heartbreak they’ve had to go through, alone and together, they deserve to have one night of stupid fun.

On the other hand, and this is why it’s not that simple, it’s a bad idea. It’s a really bad idea. And also, pretty illegal. If she asked him to, if she said no now, he would take her home and push her up against the nearest surface, bury himself in her faster than any of them could get their clothes off, bring her to ecstasy-

But it’s not the same. It just isn’t.

With as much innocence she can muster, she looks up at his anticipatory face and puts her hand on the doorknob. The cold steel is a soothing balm against her burning skin.

‘I do want to show you something in Evidence.’

He lights up like it’s a declaration of love, all unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘After you, darling.’

Their lips crash against each other before the door is even closed. He pushes her backwards in the semi-darkness, between shelves and boxes, hands low on her hips. His fingers dig softly into her ass as they stumble towards a sliver of wall together, panting and laughing against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t break contact with her lips as he quickly sheds his jacket on the way and throws it over his shoulder, for the moment uncaring of dirt and creases. Then her back hits the wall with a thunk and she’s instantly struck by déjà vu, until Lucifer grabs her thigh inside the slit of her dress, and the unwelcome memory quickly evaporates in the heat of their clashing bodies as he wraps her bare leg around his waist and pins her to the wall with the hard press of his hips. Their unison groans fill the cramped space.

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she murmurs breathlessly against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue back in. He tastes like wine and crème brûlée.

He hums in disagreement. ‘We should always be here, Detective.’ With the hand still on her ass, he pushes their bodies impossibly closer together and rocks against her. She moans, despite herself.

‘We- I-‘ Chloe stammers, leaning her head back as he kisses his way down her neck, her mind and body pulling in different directions. ‘This is- why am I letting you get away with this?’

She feels him smirk against her throat. His hand slowly glides up her inner thigh—her pulse quickening with every inch—until his thumb brushes past damp fabric.

‘Because you like me.’ His beard rasps against her hot skin in the crook of her neck, a contrast to his soft lips placing slow, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collar. ‘Because you love me.’

Chloe scoffs.

‘Do I love you?’ she questions, her breathing erratic, her eyes turned to the ceiling as he sucks a mark onto her neck. With the hand that is still between her legs, he pushes her underwear to the side and rubs against her, nice and slow. ‘Yes.’ Her gasped answer has a proud, almost victorious chuckle rumbling from his chest.

‘But do I like you?’—she bites her lip and stifles another moan as his fingers press just right—‘That’s still up for debate.’

He breaks off the assault on her neck and looks up at her, eyes black with desire.

‘Allow me to try and tip the scales, then.’

She’s bereaved of his fingers as his hand moves to the edge of her underwear, pulling it down as he sinks to his knees. She almost stumbles when he slips it over her feet, but he grabs her leg, steadying her, and helps her out of her stilettos. Once she’s barefoot, his warm palms slide up the side of her legs, pushes the hem of her dress up a few inches, and then his mouth is on her.

He licks her, slowly, tenderly. She reaches down to pull at his hair, commanding him to give her more, to take more, and he does. He starts feasting on her, all tongue and lips and-

‘God, yes.’

He chuckles smugly into her core. ‘I do love it when you moan my name, darling.’ Eyes fixed on hers, he gives her a nice, long lick before he dives back in. He kisses her clit, sucks it, circles it, laps at her like he can’t get enough, and she’s reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. She bucks against his face, needing more, and he does that thing that she likes, tongue flicking her clit, warm and wet, as he pushes a finger inside her.

Her eyes clench shut, her head falls back against the wall. She doesn’t bother holding back her groan this time.

Lucifer hums against her, low and greedy, taking as much as he can, before he pulls away with ragged breaths. ‘Ma déesse, que tu as bon gout.’

The meaning is forever lost on her, but his hungry tone, the way his tongue wraps smoothly around the French syllables, the words dripping like sin from his glistening lips, sends warm shivers down her spine.

He slows down his pace inside her, places kisses on her lower belly, seeks her ticklish spots and the ones that make her breath hitch, and then trails down to her hips, studying her sharp bone with his lips and his teeth, before moving down to her thigh, stubble prickling her tender skin. As if he’s got all the time in the world, he lets his mouth travel to the insides of her legs, already spread for him, and kisses a path up her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she aches with need,but never quite there. His finger, still moving slowly—too slowly—curls a bit, reaches that spot deep inside her that usually makes her see stars, but he pulls back before she’s even done gasping.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, a threat and a plea.

He places one last kiss to her sensitive thigh, nuzzles his nose against her heat, before his tongue finally finds her clit again and his finger starts pumping inside her, fast and hard. Then faster, harder, and, fuck, deeper.

‘Baby,’ she begs him to continue, fire spreading through her body, from her curling toes to her already heated cheeks.

He slows down for a second, and she reaches down to scratch at his scalp in frustration but quickly forgives him when he adds another finger and resumes his perfect pace, thrusting up in her to the beat of her racing heart.

‘Je veux te faire jouir.’ His thumb replaces his tongue as he looks up at her, eyes sparkling with lust and determination, but also patience. Like he could do this for hours, the whole night, as long as she falls apart around his tongue and fingers in the end.

He doesn’t need all night, though. She’s close, so close, can feel the beginning of that blissful high burning in her lower belly, between her thighs, where his mouth licks and nibbles and sucks. A building warmth pumping through her veins. She grabs at his hair, wraps her leg around his shoulder and pushes his face closer into her heat, needing that last-

‘Fuck, right there,’ she gasps. Right there right there right there.

He smirks against her, always eager to please, and does as she says. As she’s teetering on the edge, he curls both fingers inside her, goes impossibly deeper, and reaches the same spot as before, except this time, he doesn’t stop, and she comes with a shudder and a gasped ‘fuck!’ as he licks her through it.

‘Tu es tellement belle, ma chérie,’ he tells her, voice soft with awe as she comes down from her high and opens her eyes. She understands enough of the words to smile down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his swollen lips, and warm, chocolatey eyes.

‘You too, baby.’

She still hasn’t caught her breath when he, after wiping his mouth on her thigh, slowly rises from his feet and starts making his way up her body. His fingers skate lightly up her dress, his knuckles brushing against her rising and falling ribs as his hands sneak higher and higher, closer and closer. With a feather-light touch, he starts tracing the curves of her breasts, deliberately avoiding her aching nipples. He teases her with his fingers, kisses her neck, lips trailing, hot and slow, up to her jaw and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

‘J’ai envie de toi,’ he says into her ear, his voice rough with want and determination.

Chloe can’t take it anymore. She fists his waistcoast in one hand and grabs him by the hair with the other to pull him up into a hard kiss. He tries to stay in control, to hold back his obvious desire for just a little longer, but he quickly loses the battle and lets a bit of hunger take over. They pour equal heat into the kiss, tongues pressing and teeth clashing as their mouths slide against each other. She threads her fingers through his curls, he bites her lip, and they both groan and gasp into the kiss.

Chloe’s the one to pull away, needing air sooner than him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, both panting, when he says it again, ‘J’ai envie de toi.’ This time, breathy desperation shines through his voice. ‘Je veux être en toi.’

And then they’re kissing again and both of them are working at his belt and pants in a flurry of hands until he’s finally inside her with one quick thrust. He fills her to the hilt, deliciously stretching her inner muscles, warm and hard. For a moment, they’re both so overcome they can only pause and breathe, Lucifer’s forehead cradled in the crook of her shoulder as her hand gently strokes the short hairs on the back of his neck.

He pulls back to look deeply into her eyes, and starts off slow. Not teasing, just tender. He kisses her cheeks and neck, every inch of skin he can reach with his lips, and whispers sweet nothings against her skin. She can’t know for sure, of course, because it’s still in French, and she doesn’t catch all of it, the sounds alien and muffled—‘t’es incroyable’, she hears, ‘j’suis fou amoureux de toi’—but something about his tone tells her it’s not as dirty as whatever he was saying before. Still, it makes her just as wet, the words tingling across her skin.

He picks up the pace, wraps her legs tighter around him, and pushes her harder against the wall. His hand grasps her breast roughly, seeking purchase, then rhythmically strokes over her nipple in apology, and she moans her relief. The shelves on either side of them hit the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump as he thrusts up into her, fucks her, their harsh pants mingling in the small space between their parted lips. Chloe claws at Lucifer’s shoulders and back, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Even through the two layers of fabric, she can feel his warmth and muscles, and a sudden urge bubbles up within her. With desperate fingers, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, but it takes too long—she needs him—so she rips open both shirt and waistcoat and frantically pushes them off his shoulders. He pins her against the wall with a hard thrust, letting go of her thigh and breast to shake the material onto the floor, and Chloe scratches at his finally bare back and shoulders, nails digging into slick, freckled flesh. She arches back into the wall and bares her neck for him to nip and kiss.

‘Fuck, Lucifer!’ she whines. ‘Oh, God, baby, fuckyes!’

He growls at the sound of her noises and bites her ear.

‘J’adore baiser avec toi.’ One hand slides down to her ass, holding her and pushing her dress higher up as the other bites into the now bare skin at her waist. The sharp touch sends a jolt down to her throbbing clit, making her clench tighter around him. ‘J’adore ton corps. T’es vraiment une déesse.’ The last word is a groan against her lips as he kisses her.

It’s wet, messy, and so delicious they both grasp tightly onto each other’s mouths with lips, tongues and teeth, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

‘Je veux t’embrasser,’ Lucifer pants when they break apart for a second, his gaze fixed on her mouth as their lungs fight for air. His dark eyes soften when they look into hers. ‘Chaque jour de ma vie,’ he adds reverently as he leans in. ‘Pour toujours.’ And then he kisses her again, like he wants it to last for all eternity.

His thrusts turn slower and deeper as they kiss, harder, until kissing becomes panting into each other’s mouths and Chloe’s head falls back in sheer pleasure. He tightens his grip on her ass and runs the hand on her waist up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he passes her breast, up her neck, and cups the side of her face. She lets their eyes meet, and the way he’s looking at her, with absolute awe and gratitude, makes her heart flutter and her hips buck against his bare stomach. Her hands slide from where they’ve been clutching his mess of a hair to his back, trailing down to where he’s most sensitive. She places her palms on either side of his spine and presses lightly, carefully.

‘Tu me-’ he cuts off with a gasp when her nails skim over his hidden wings, ‘Tu me rends- fucking hell, Chloe.’

She keens at the guttural sound of her name. He leans his forehead against hers with a grunt, the slight change in angle making his rhythm falter, one hand slamming against the wall next to her. She watches the rest of his control slip through glazed eyes. She did this to him. She rendered God himself lost to his own bliss. That knowledge itself is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

‘Close,’ she breathes.

He grabs both her thighs with strong hands and presses her flush up against the wall, going impossibly deeper inside her. She hisses through her teeth and sputters all kinds of incoherent, unholy prayers into the sweltering air between them. Every hard thrust pushes her closer to ecstasy.

‘You make me so happy,’ Lucifer whispers, sounding so wrecked and raw her eyes clench shut. ‘I want- I hope- fuck- I hope I make you, nnf, just as happy.’

‘You do, baby. You make me so- so-’

Heat floods her veins as she comes, the sweet tension snapping all at once. She cries out, arches her back, and moans long and low as he continues to fuck her through it. His thrusts are quick and inelegant, his arms and thighs trembling, and she knows he’s close. She intentionally clenches around him, whispers his name, and then he too is tumbling over the edge, the only type of falling she ever wants him to feel again.

They smile at each other as they try to catch their breaths, sweaty foreheads still pressed together.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘So much.’

She hums with happiness, her heart pleasantly aching at the sound of the words he couldn’t say the last time they were here.

‘I love you too, babe.’ She reaches up to lazily nuzzle the hairs at the nape of his neck, still smiling.

‘Maybe you even like me?’

She lets out a breathy chuckle and slides down the wall to land on her bare feet. Her legs are… wobbly, to say the least. Lucifer smirks at her.

‘We’ll see about that.’ She smoothes out her dress as he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens his belt. ‘If anyone ever finds out about this, your chances are pretty bad, buddy.’

She collects his clothes from the floor and helps him into his shirt. Two buttons are missing, lost to the force of her hasty ripping. It gives her an odd sense of satisfaction, the fact that the shirt he wore when they first kissed—the shirt she dreamt of tearing off his body—now is marked by their little escapade. (At least until he gets his tailor to fix it.)

‘Well, I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you then, won’t I?’ He licks his lips and lifts his eyebrows as he offers her a hand to help her up from the floor once she’s put her shoes back on. Chloe bites her cheek so as to not smile at his suggestion and intertwines their fingers.

‘You can start by helping me assemble that new shelf system tomorrow,’ she tells him, waiting for him to groan in response, or mumble something about hiring some people to do it for them. But he doesn’t. He just opens the door for her and lets her go first with a soft smile on his still flushed face.

‘Anything for you, my love.’

The door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

#writing #deckerstar fanfiction #deckerstar #chloe decker #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer on netflix #fluff #smut #established deckerstar #lucifer is god #post 5b #post s5 #two part drabble game

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norarigby · 3 years ago

Text

フェア関西のルームメイト二名 (The Two Roommates from Fair Kansai)

Chapter 2: The Typo

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Description: In which while typing a roommate ad online, the famed Miya Atsumu, (23) MSBY Jackals Setter, makes a detrimental typo that leads to an influx of women applicants. Confused, but not completely opposed (the idiot), Miya Atsumu lands on a formidable candidate. Y/n L/n. A Biotechnology major at Kansai University, looking for a change after her last disastrous roommates and some space from a particular complication. It’s odd, but it’ll work. Maybe a little too well.

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: ~1.4k

A/n: Cross posted from my AO3. I update there first, so if you want the chapters sooner, check it out!

To say Atsumu was overwhelmed would be an understatement. When one of the athletic directors approached him saying how his phone kept going off in the locker room, he was concerned something was seriously wrong. As a precaution, they assure him that if it was an emergency that he should feel free to take the day. But upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. He scrolled through what seemed like pages of messages and missed calls about the ad. And not just any inquiries, but…

“ALL WOMEN!” Atsumu exclaimed loudly in the busy shop. A few annoyed heads turned to the source of the outburst.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “‘Tsumu, we talked about this. Having you come during busy hours is already enough of a nuisance, but could you keep it down? This is still a public place.”

“But ‘Samu! What am I going to do?” Atsumu whisper-shouted like it would help his outburst, but it still elicited a few head turns, “I already didn’t want to room with a stranger! And now all of the applicants are girls? This has to be some sort of joke.”

Osamu helped with the line and handed out a few orders to customers before focusing some energy on his dramatic brother. “Well, did you specify that you were only looking for male roommate?”

Atsumu picked at the stray rice grains on his plate as he tried to remember what he wrote. He couldn’t remember specifying anything about the roommate themselves; focusing mainly on the apartment itself. He voiced his thoughts to his brother.

“Hmm, well Atsumu can be a girl's name. Maybe that’s why?”

He tried not to be offended at his brother’s comment, mainly because he was partially right. It’s possible that they’re assuming he’s a girl. But that doesn’t make entire sense either. Is it possible his fan club found the posting? That seemed pretty possible. Atsumu knew fangirls could get crazy when they wanted to be.

Osamu finished some things behind the bar and went over to sit by Atsumu. The two contemplated his conundrum over a fresh plate of onigiri. After Osamu’s second, he spoke up, “Just for science, can I see your ad?”

Atsumu gave him an incredulous look, but pulled up the ad anyway, “I mean, sure, but I don’t think-”

At Atsumu’s sudden silence, Osamu’s curiosity was piqued, “”Tsumu? Everything okay?”

Wordlessly he handed the phone over and Osamu read through the ad. Immediately after reading, he burst into laughter.

“‘Samu! This isn’t funny!”

But Osamu was laughing so hard he couldn’t even speak. Some of his employees turned out of concern and curiosity at their boss’ sudden burst. Eventually, he calmed down enough to choke out a “you are in some trouble, ‘Tsumu”.

Roommate Wanted.

Master Bedroom available with a private bath in a 100 sq m apartment in Osaka. In-unit wash, AC, dishwasher, internet, etc. Fully furnished (besides bedroom available). Rent with utilities is 62784¥. Near public transportation. Feel free to contact with questions or offers.

06-XXXX-XXXX

Text/Call

Miya Atsumi

“Alright, that wraps it up for today. Finish the calculations on your own time and be sure to bring back your completed form by next class. See you Tuesday!”

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor harmonized with the zipping and unzipping of backpacks as the classroom got up to leave. Y/n pulled out her phone to finally check her messages.

From: Mom

Found a listing in Osaka that looks interesting. Good apartment with really good pricing. You should give them a call.

(link)

Y/n typed a quick thank you before clicking on the link. Her mom was right. It looked like a decent location and a not too bad price. Trying to look for any information on the roommate (roommates?), all she could see was a number and a name at the bottom of the ad. What a strange listing. It was probably the shortest listing she’d ever come across--and definitely the most to the point.

Y/n sat and stared at the listing for a little bit while weighing her options. She just got out of an interesting situation in Suita, but she was now living with her parents. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but both her and her parents weren’t exactly jumping at the idea of her moving back in, especially with her graduating college next year.

Making up her mind, she copied the number and sent a quick text to the number on the ad. A silent prayer was sent to whoever was listening. This wouldn’t fix all of her problems, but this would solve a big one and she swore she would be able to handle the rest.

“And you told me I was loud,” Now Atsumu was getting antsy about the amount of people staring at his hysteric brother. “”Samu, you need to calm down.”

This had been going on for at least ten minutes now. Osamu would read through the ad, get sent into a fit of laughter, finally calm down, but then would read it again and the cycle would start all over again. Not used to being the responsible twin, in addition to being extremely embarrassed by his brother’s reaction to his typo, Atsumu was at a loss for what to do. He tried sending reassuring smiles to patrons and mumbled some apologies, but that was the extent of his capabilities.

Finally, Osamu calmed down and pushed Atsumu’s phone back to him. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Osamu tried to console his brother, “Hey, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing. Surely, there’s at least one of those girls that you could at least be civil with.”

Atsumu scrolled through his messages again, exacerbated, “Even if that’s true! There’s too many! I don’t really have the time to sit and go through all of these.”

There were at least 100 people who had responded to his ad and where the messages definitely weren’t flooding in as much as they had earlier that day, he would get a notification about once every 15-20 minutes. By the time he got through the original applicants, there would be another 100-200 to take their place. In between practice and conditioning, there was no way Atsumu was going to be able to get through these all by himself.

“Tell you what,” Osamu leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, “Since this was partially my idea, I’ll help you tonight after I close up. And if we can’t find anyone, I’ll help you write up a better listing and we can delete this one.”

Atsumu’s other issue with all of these applicants is that he really didn’t want to spend energy looking through dozens of descriptions and deciding if he would like them or not. He assumed it would be like the dating app he had for a couple weeks, but worse. Atsumu really didn’t like the idea of judging someone based on a single paragraph they wrote about themselves. He preferred a more personal approach. Like with the various spikers and teammates he’d played with over the years, he was really good at reading people in person. Within a short conversation, he could pretty accurately lay out a person’s personality (what things they might like, what might make them tick, what things they were indifferent to). Over the internet it was much more difficult.

He guessed he could always ask them to meet in person, right? That was something people did. They could meet at his brother’s restaurant so then Osamu could get a feel for the other person. Atsumu figured it would also get one glaring issue out of the way: he was a guy.

It was a fool proof plan. Osamu and him would sort through the applicants tonight and he would invite them to meet him in person. This way he can see if it’s going to work or not and if they aren’t comfortable with rooming with a guy they can just leave. Genius!

Atsumu recounted his plan to his brother and Osamu was in agreement. With that, the blonde brother left to go to afternoon conditioning, planning on returning just before close to sneak in a few more onigiri from his brother before the long haul.

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marjansmarwani · 4 years ago

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trust that there will be light always waiting behind

8.4k || ao3

TK has gone out of his way to prove to Carlos that being a paramedic is every bit as dangerous as being a firefighter, it seems.

But Carlos will do whatever it takes to find him and bring him home safe, and he always will. Even if it means he needs to face some personal demons on the way. But it's worth it - he refuses to lose TK for anything. ------ A 2x08 speculative fic

All the kudos and thanks to @officereyes for not only convincing me to actually write this but for also brainstorming with me, a lot.

Will it happen like this? Probably not. But we can dream. All I can ask for is some quality Carlos and his dad content, and maybe Owen not being as shitty as he has been lately. But because I don't trust Fox to give us that, I wrote it.

Title from "Six" by Sleeping at Last

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

TK wasn’t sure how things had gone from normal to total nightmare in a matter of seconds, but here they were.

In this case “here” meant that the pregnant woman they were meant to be helping was not in fact, pregnant and that he and his team were now being held at gunpoint in an empty parking garage.

So yeah, total nightmare. And the day had started off so well.

He stood quietly, body tense with his hands up wishing he had been paying more attention; that he had noticed them coming from behind before they had gotten the drop on them. That he had noticed before he and his team were in danger. But he hadn’t and here they were: at gunpoint looking at a critically injured patient they were expected to save with only the gear in their medpacks. Which was especially bad, considering it seemed pretty clear that their survival depended on his.

He exchanged a glance with Nancy as he pulled open the bag to start grabbing gear, doing his best to shoot her a reassuring smile. All the while he couldn’t help but think about something Carlos had said when he had discussed becoming a paramedic with him. One of the pros, he had noted wryly as he planted a kiss on the top of TK’s head, was that at least his boyfriend being a paramedic instead of a firefighter would mean he would have to worry less. TK had rolled his eyes at the time but now he could say quite firmly that Carlos was wrong.

After all, he had never been held at gunpoint as a firefighter.

----------

A surprise party worked best when the person who is supposed to be surprised shows up, Carlos figured.

If it were anyone else, he might have been amused. But it was TK, who was supposed to be at his parent’s house for his surprise party 40 minutes ago. Tommy and Nancy were going to bring him by after shift but instead, none of them had shown up and Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He could see the unease growing in the eyes of some of the others too as they made the transition from amused to concerned as the time ticked by. Carlos had tried calling TK almost a dozen times now, only to get his voicemail each time. He knew that Tommy and Nancy had gotten calls too, from Judd and Marjan respectively, with the same result. Now, 40 minutes later it had moved from a feeling to a fact: something was wrong. He could see Owen off to the side of the yard now, speaking lowly into his phone as he tried to get an update from dispatch. His expression was grim and when he ended the call Carlos crossed the yard towards him.

“Well?” he asked when he drew close enough, “what did they say?”

Owen shook his head, “They can’t reach the unit, and it hasn’t been in contact for over an hour.”

Carlos could feel the fear solidifying within him even as he asked the next question, “Were they able to tell you where?”

“I’m waiting on that info now.”

Even as he said it his phone dinged with an incoming text and Carlos craned his neck to read the address over Owen’s shoulder.

“That’s not too far,” he said, “if we leave now we should be there within the hour.” At Owen’s surprised look he raised an eyebrow, “What? You thought I was just going to stay here while you go look for them? Not likely.”

Owen nodded and managed a small smile, “Let’s go then. We have a paramedic team to find.”

--------

It took some negotiating but Tommy had managed to ultimately convince the people with guns that their friend would be better off receiving treatment in the ambulance rather than in the back of a van. As they packed up their supplies and got the patient ready to move to the ambulance TK’s mind was racing through all the implications. This move meant that they were planning on relocating, which meant that they would be leaving their last known location. Once they left this parking garage unless they were somehow able to check-in, dispatch would have no way of knowing where they were and they would be officially labeled as MIA.

Which was less than ideal, but did at least mean that someone would be looking for them. TK pushed the used gauze into a pile, taking care to make sure that his back was turned to their kidnappers as he reached for his neck and pulled at his necklace until the chain came undone. He slid it under the edge of the pile, where it would hopefully be spotted by anyone looking for clues. He looked up to see Nancy and Tommy both giving him curious looks. He met their eyes and mouthed, “Carlos.”

Once they were reported missing there was a zero percent chance that his boyfriend would not be involved in the search, he knew that without a doubt. It was subtle enough that it would hopefully pass their captors’ notice, but Carlos would recognize it instantly. It was something that would tell him that they had been here, and that they were in danger. Carlos would know that TK wouldn’t have parted with the pendant otherwise.

Nancy raised an eyebrow and Tommy shot him a quick smile as they finished their prep and got ready to move the patient. When they entered the ambulance and got the patient settled TK crossed to the cab and pulled himself into the driver’s seat, only to look down and get a sinking feeling. While traveling by ambulance would be ultimately better for the patient (and by extension, them) TK had also been banking on the fact that once in the ambulance there would be more opportunities to call for help.

Which was a hope quickly dashed when he saw that their radio had been ripped out, effectively eliminating the possibility of getting help that way. TK bit his lip and turned his eyes to the road in front of him as the armed man climbed into the cab beside him. “Drive,” he instructed plainly and TK complied, switching on the engine and shifting the vehicle into gear, acutely aware of the gun leveled at his chest the entire time. Getting shot was not an experience he had been looking forward to relieving ever again if he could help it.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Just drive and I direct you.”

TK nodded and slowly pulled forward, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

Maybe, just maybe these people were more reasonable than they seemed and maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster, TK thought to himself as he pulled out of the parking garage and headed to the right as instructed. They just need to keep everything calm until help arrived. Because it would, TK was sure of it.

--------

The ride there was filled with tense silence, their combined anxiety filling the car to capacity and leaving no room for words. Carlos kept an eye on the phone in his hand, the small blue dot tracing their location and showing their progress as they grew closer and closer to the destination flag. They were almost there. They would have answers soon, one way or another.

He spared a glance at Owen. The fire captain’s eyes were glued to the road and his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles shining white against the black upholstery. His jaw was set and his expression was full of a panic Carlos was sure was reflected in his own face. He wondered if Owen was thinking the same thing: things had been going so well. Possibly too well, and now the universe was looking to even the score. Carlos hated the thought — TK deserved all the good things the world had to offer, in his opinion — but it was one he couldn’t help but wonder. He just hoped that no matter what, TK would be okay. No matter what the universe was trying to throw at them as long as he was safe at the end, Carlos could take it.

Reaching the parking garage had been the easy part, it turned out. He and Owen drove the levels in tense silence, each scanning for any clues, any signs of the missing paramedics. It wasn’t until he saw a black panel van parked haphazardly that Carlos broke the tense silence: “Stop the car!”

Owen did and Carlos was out his door before the car had even lurched to a complete stop. He ran to the van, heart sinking as he noticed the back doors hanging open. He approached with increased trepidation, not sure what he was hoping to find. When he reached the back and got his first look inside the van, he was pretty sure this wasn’t it.

Bloody gauze and other medical scraps littered the ground, along with three broken cell phones, all of which seemed to have been smashed. Carlos could feel dread building in his gut as he surveyed the destruction. He sensed Owen come up behind him, heard the low curse he let out at the scene.

“There’s no saying any of the blood is theirs,” he reminded Carlos as if he could read the frantic thoughts racing through his mind, each possibility worse than the last.

Carlos bit back a retort — there was no good in reminding Owen that there was no saying it wasn’t either — and was about to ask another question when he noticed something silver poking out from under one of the gauze scraps. He leaned forward to grab it, heart sinking when he pulled it out to reveal a very familiar necklace.

“Maybe,” he told Owen as he turned, holding up the necklace while the FDNY pendant glinting in the low light of the parking garage, “but they were definitely here.”

Carlos hadn’t been sure it was possible but he was certain he saw the fear in Owen’s eyes grow as he took the necklace from Carlos, running his thumb over the numbers engraved in the pendant. “He left this as a clue,” he said quietly, and Carlos nodded.

“Which probably means they were taken somewhere else and TK wanted us to know they were here.”

Owen nodded, pulling his gaze up from the necklace to meet Carlos’s eyes, “We need to find them.”

His voice was tinged in desperation, a feeling Carlos knew well. He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone as he took another look at the mess in the back of the van. “We will,” he told Owen, “and I think I know someone that can help.”

------

Their destination had turned out to be an abandoned restaurant, shuttered by the pandemic. As workspaces went it wasn’t a bad one, if a little dusty, and they got their patient set up on a prep table in no time, falling into their usual rhythm as they returned to this relative familiarity. TK was currently retrieving supplies from one of their cases and running through the situation in his head, separating it into pros and cons.

Pro: they had come here in an ambulance with their house number clearly painted on it in broad daylight. Once people started looking it shouldn’t be too hard to spot.

Con: they were deep into a neighborhood known for being an entertainment district. While traffic had decreased significantly overall since the start of the pandemic it was nearly non-existent this early in the day. The odds of a casual observer being in the neighborhood were slim to none, which was not a thought that brought much comfort.

The man shouted at him to hurry up and TK quickly added another con to his list as he grabbed the last thing and crossed back to the table: their kidnappers were not reasonable people and every moment that passed seemed to push them just that much closer to the edge. Even as he thought it the woman edged closer to Nancy, causing her to tense as the cold metal of the gun was pressed against her side.

“Hey,” he said firmly, “if you want us to save your friend, you need to let us work. That means you and your guns should be at least 6 feet away. It’s a little hard to focus otherwise.”

The woman glanced at the man, who was studying TK. TK met his gaze steadily, not looking away until the man nodded and turned to his companion, “Go wait by the door, just in case. They’re not going anywhere.”

She nodded and TK could breathe easier as she stepped away from Nancy, who visibly relaxed and shot TK a grateful look. Tommy eyed him quickly before returning her focus to the patient. “I appreciate what you’re doing, Strand, but in the future maybe let’s try to not antagonize the criminals with guns, yeah?”

TK nodded as he worked, “Sorry Cap, I just really don’t like guns. Chalk it up to bad personal experience.”

Nancy grimaced at the reminder and Tommy nodded, “Then let's keep this calm, no one needs to get shot today. I’m not losing another member of my crew, you both got that?”

“Yes Cap,” TK and Nancy chorused, lapsing into silence as they worked. Unfortunately, with their supplies, there was only so much they could do. They had had a busy morning before this call had come in and no time to restock in between. They were running low on pretty much everything, and everything they had would have hardly been enough to repair the damage before them on a good day. But, despite everything, he was still a patient and he was still in need of treatment so they did what they always did: everything they could.

Even as they worked TK made sure to keep one eye on their kidnappers. With each passing minute, they seemed to get more and more restless, and increasingly desperate. The woman even seemed twitchy and TK vaguely wondered if she was going through withdrawal. All the signs were there and if she was that made their situation even worse. TK knew how that felt first hand and knew what it could do to a person’s mental state. The idea that she might be coming down from a high and was currently pointing a gun at them was less than ideal and he mentally added it to his con list.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t the one to crack first. TK was helping Captain Vega to do what they could to clean and secure the entry wound when the man stepped closer, waving the gun around as he shouted, “What is taking so long? We’ve been here too long, we need to get moving!”

“Do you want it done right or do you want it done fast?” Tommy asked evenly, her voice calm and level.

The man scowled at that, but stepped away, “Just, go as fast as you can.”

TK watched him walk away, glancing at the clock above the door and cursing before running his free hand across his face, the hand holding the gun tapping against his leg.

“He’s spiraling Cap,” TK noted softly, “we might need a plan if you want to avoid that whole one of us getting shot thing.”

“And we’ll find one,” Tommy agreed, “but for now we stick with the original one: do our jobs and keep calm.”

TK nodded tersely and continued with the task at hand. It was only a few more moments before his Captain gave a soft curse and he looked over to see her scowling at the bag next to her. “We’re out of saline,” she said in answer to his questioning look, “can you go see if there is any more in that bag by the door?”

TK nodded and crossed the bag laying on the ground next to the door they had entered. As he grew closer he noticed that the bag wasn’t the only thing by the door: a fire alarm, bright red against the white of the walls and shining like a beacon of hope as he drew closer, was situated on the wall just past the bag. If he could reach it and pull it, dispatch would be notified. A fire company and at least one APD unit would be called and the alarm might be enough of a distraction for them to get out of here and get somewhere safe until help arrived. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see that the two armed assailants were not watching him and made up his mind. He was going to pull it, and hope for the best. If it doesn’t work it’ll have been his idea and his idea alone — the rest of his team doesn't need to be involved in this. This was a stupid choice he could make for himself and by himself.

He stepped forward, hardly daring to breathe as he drew closer. He was just about to reach out his hand when he heard footsteps behind him, loud and fast. He turned in time to see a hand reaching for him, aiming to strike him with the side of the gun. He ducked, the hand missing his target as he dodged the blow. The man came for him again and TK managed to dodge the next blow as well, and the one after that.

They moved away from the wall and TK had the frantic thought that maybe he could get the gun away from him, maybe he could actually get the upper hand. He reached for it, throwing himself into the man’s space and reaching around for his arm. He leaned closer, so intent on his goal that he didn’t notice the man rummaging on the nearby shelf with his free hand. He didn’t notice his other hand at all until a sharp pain ripped through his side, causing him to release his grip on the other man involuntarily. He stumbled back, hands reaching blindly to the source of the pain coursing through his body. He felt a warm and sticky wetness and was about to lift his hand to examine it when he felt another sharp pain which caused his vision to go white before everything went black and he knew no more.

-----

Carlos hadn’t had to say too much before his dad had agreed to help out. One of the perks of being a Ranger, Gabriel reminded his son, was getting to choose the cases he focused on from time to time. He wasn’t sure if it was the words he had said or the tone of his voice that had done the convincing but within two minutes his dad had taken down the address and was on his way. He had said he was likely 10 minutes out but each one of those minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly.

He and Owen waited in tense silence, neither saying a word since Carlos had hung up the phone with the news that a Texas Ranger was on the case. Owen had raised an eyebrow but after Carlos clarified that it was his dad his expression had shifted to something unreadable and Carlos wondered how much Owen knew about his parental situation in regards to TK.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, as it happened. About 4 minutes into their wait, after Owen had made a phone call to Gwyn and Carlos had sent out some updates to the team, Owen cleared his throat, turning to Carlos before he spoke.

“I don’t want to pry, Carlos, but TK mentioned something about you and your parents a few months ago and I just want to know where that stands. I don’t want to make things weird for you, but I also don’t want to accidentally reveal any information you’re not okay with.”

Carlos nodded, feeling a rush of appreciation for the older man’s tact as he responded, “They know I’m gay,” he told Owen plainly, “but they don’t know I’m in a relationship. They’ve never known about any of my relationships, we just don’t talk about it. When TK and I ran into them at the farmer’s market I introduced him as a friend and as far as they know that’s the truth.” Carlos turned to see Owen’s reaction, not sure what to expect. Anger maybe? Frustration or upset?

When he did turn he didn’t see any of those. Instead, the older man’s face was neutral as he nodded. “They won’t find out otherwise from me,” Owen promised him, and Carlos nodded his thanks, letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He was surprised, however, when Owen continued talking.

“I know it’s not my place to tell you how to interact with your parents,” he began, “but for what it’s worth, I would never want TK to keep something that was important to him from me because he was worried it might make me upset or uncomfortable. From everything you and TK have said about your parents, I wouldn’t be surprised if they felt the same way.”

Carlos could feel Owen’s gaze on him, steady and reassuring despite everything, and he nodded. He could feel Owen’s words rattling inside his head, but there was no way to process them right now, not when the fear of possibly losing TK and the worry that his danger-prone boyfriend was missing was so soundly occupying the forefront of his thoughts.

He was still trying to parse through it all when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. He stood as he recognized his dad’s truck, crossing to meet him as he pulled to a stop. “Thank you,” he told his dad as he stepped out, “I really appreciate this.”

“Anything for you, mijo,” his dad assured him with a smile, “all you have to do is ask. Which you rarely do, which tells me this is pretty important.”

There’s something else there, in his dad’s words and his expression, that tells Carlos that his dad knows there is something Carlos isn’t telling him, but he ignores it. It didn’t matter right now — nothing mattered except for finding TK. “Still,” he says instead before turning to Owen who has been hovering at the back of the van. “This is TK’s dad, Captain Owen Strand of the 126.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain,” Gabriel says with a nod, “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Likewise,” Owen replies quickly before diving right in. “Were you able to find out anything yet?”

“Actually yes,” Gabriel admitted and Carlos tensed at the expression on his dad’s face. It was the one he used when he tried to break bad news gently. “We think we may have identified the suspects. There was a bank robbery this morning and the suspects fled in a van matching the description Carlos gave me. There were three suspects — two who entered the bank and one getaway driver — and bank security thinks that they hit one of them while exchanging fire as they fled.”

There was so much information trying to squeeze into Carlos’s head now. None of it was good but one fact jumped out amongst the others. The suspects had exchanged fire with the security guards which meant…

“They’re armed,” he said tersely, the dread he had already been feeling threatening to overtake him now, “the suspects are armed.”

“And they needed the paramedics to treat their partner,” his dad agreed grimly.

“Do we know anything about what kind of shape the injured suspect was in?” Owen asked and Carlos could tell that his mind had gone to the same place his own had: if the paramedics were not able to save the injured bank robber, things didn’t look great for them. Their best hope was for a minor injury but judging by the amount of bloody gauze in the back of the van and the fact that it was a gunshot wound the chances for that were slim to non-existent.

Gabriel shook his head, “No, and the security cams in this parking garage are just for show, I already had someone check.”

So TK and his team were being held at gunpoint, being asked to provide medical care that should be done in a trauma room, and there was no way of saying where they had been taken or if they were okay. Carlos could feel his chest tighten in panic as the hopelessness of the situation set in.

“Are there any leads?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the desperation in his voice.

“Well, they did leave in an ambulance, and that’s not exactly subtle,” his dad reminded him bracingly. “We’ve put out a bulletin — every cop, sheriff, and ranger will be looking for it. We’ll find them, mjio.”

Carlos nodded because he didn’t trust himself to speak and because he desperately needed it to be true. They needed to find them, and TK needed to be okay. Nothing short of that would be enough.

----------

TK knew he was somewhere he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

There were voices nearby, but TK couldn’t process any of them. Some of them sounded familiar but others were foreign; unknown with a hostile edge. He tried to open his eyes, to try and take stock of his surroundings but all he could see were vague and blurry shapes. He thought that someone called his name but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was in pain, and he was in danger.

The pull of the darkness was stronger than any fear or curiosity, however, and it washed back over him without hesitation, pulling him back under.

---------

Riding in his dad’s truck with his dad and Owen Strand would have been awkward on a good day but today, with his mind full of fear for TK and the tension of the secret between them all, it was unbearable. Carlos couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing anxiously against the floor — the exact same nervous tick he teased TK about on an almost daily basis. The irony wasn’t lost on him, or Owen it seemed as the man leaned forward from the back seat to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, empathetic eyes meeting his own in the rearview. Gabriel kept up a steady stream of one-sided chatter, undaunted by the lack of response from his traveling companions. Every once in a while his radio would crackle to life and Carlos could swear that he could feel his heart seize each and every time.

But every time it was the same: no news, no one had spotted the ambulance yet. Crime scene techs had scoured the van and surrounding area, pulling fingerprints and looking for anything else that could give them a lead on who these people were and where they may have gone. Carlos knew all too well that criminals, especially ones involved in crimes that took as much planning as a bank robbery did, were creatures of habit. If they had somewhere they felt was safe and secluded enough, they would go there. It was up to them to find it.

Carlos knew that his anxiety had not gone unnoticed by his father. He sent him surreptitious glances from time to time, in between radio updates and idle chatter. Finally, he asked a question: “You really care about this TK, don’t you?”

The opening was there, Carlos could see it. A part of his mind told him his dad must too, to open the door so plainly. But the fear of what could happen, of what he has convinced himself he stands to lose is too much. There was already so much fear in his heart from this nightmare he was trapped in, he can’t stand any more. So he nodded and simply answered, “Yeah, I do.”

He tried not to notice the disappointment and pity he could feel from all sides as Owen met his eyes again in the mirror. But his boyfriend’s father stayed silent as promised and Carlos looked away, turning his attention to the window instead. He knew he needed to tell them, he had been coming closer to making that decision on his own with each passing day. Now he just had to hope that they both survived this one and that there would still be something to tell at the end of it all.

His pessimistic spiral was interrupted by the familiar crackle of the radio. He listened absently as his dad grabbed it and at the words that came in response. At least he was only listening absently until some of the words processed in his mind: “Ambulance 126 has been spotted in an alley off W. Fourth St.”

His heart was working on beating its way out of his chest now. He sat upright, looking around frantically to get their bearings. They were only a few blocks east of West Fourth, they could be there in minutes. He relayed this to his dad who nodded before flipping on his lightbar and heading in the direction of the address provided. As they drove Carlos sent his desperate hopes out to the universe. Let them all be okay, let them actually be in or at least nearby the ambulance. Above all, let TK be safe.

As they sped through the city that was the thought that Carlos played on a loop in his head. Let TK be safe, and everything else would be fine

----------

TK came to awareness slowly and at first, the only thing he was truly aware of was the feeling of someone repeatedly tapping his cheek.

“Cut it out,” he whined and heard a relieved sigh in response.

“He’s awake,” a voice — Nancy? — declared and TK tried to open his eyes. It took several tries but he managed, painstakingly blinking them open to reveal the worried faces of his Captain and his partner staring down at him.

“Hey guys,” he said as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position, “why the long faces?”

Captain Vega looked unimpressed with his efforts and pushed him back down onto the ground. “Don’t try to play nice with me Strand after you did that. Of all the reckless, foolhardy things. I really thought you had more sense than that.”

TK frowned at her, trying to piece together all the uncategorized shapes and sensations floating through his hazy mind, “What do you…” he began, but broke off when a sharp pain ripped through his side and Nancy pressed gauze down onto his side, “oh.”

It was coming back now.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” his Captain scoffed, “what were you thinking TK?”

“I was thinking that they were getting more and more unhinged the longer we were here and that if I had been able to pull the fire alarm dispatch would be notified and it would have given us enough of a distraction we could have maybe saved ourselves,” he said defensively, trying hard to sound assertive when even just the dim lights of the kitchen were causing explosions of pain in his head.

“And how did that go for you?”

“Not great,” he admitted. “How long was I out?”

“Not too long,” Nancy told him as she lifted up the gauze to check on his stab wound, “and I’ve got the bleeding slowed but this wound is pretty deep. Not to mention the knife did not look particularly sterile so this needs treatment, soon.” She nodded towards the abandoned blood-covered chef’s knife on the ground that the man must have grabbed during their scuffle, and TK groaned.

“So probable infection,” he muttered, “great.”

“Not to mention with the width of that knife likely some significant damage,” Tomy reminded him, her unimpressed look holding firm.

“It’s not like I had any way of knowing he was going to find a knife, to be fair.”

“To be fair, I would think the guns should have been enough of a deterrent,” Tommy countered. “Wasn’t getting shot once enough for you?”

TK shifted uncomfortably under his Captain’s gaze and was about to fire back a retort when Nancy interrupted, “Can you both knock it off? Yes, that was incredibly stupid TK and if you weren’t already hurt I probably would have hit you myself. But it was also pretty brave, Cap, and he meant well. Either way, arguing about it is not going to change the fact that we’re still being held hostage and TK is still hurt so maybe it would be best if you both stopped, for my sanity if nothing else.”

She gave them both a hard look and TK did his best approximation of a nod with his throbbing head, not eager to be on his partner’s bad side. Tommy nodded as well, though the look she gave TK promised that they would be revisiting this later, assuming there was a later. He cleared his throat and glanced towards the table where their patient was still laid out, “How is he?”

“Stable, for now,” Tommy answered, following his gaze. “He’s going to need more blood than we can give him though: his friends don’t know his blood type and we only have so much O neg on hand.”

TK nodded, reading in between the lines of what his Captain wasn’t saying: he didn’t have much longer and if he didn’t, neither did they. “What are the others up to?”

“Arguing,” Nancy said softly, “about what to do with us.”

TK turned his gaze to them and though he couldn’t hear their words, he had a feeling he knew what they were saying and it wasn’t good. His suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when they approached.

“That’s enough of that,” the man informed them, gesturing roughly to where Nancy was tending to TK’s stab wound, “get away from him.”

“He needs—” Nancy tried to argue, but TK put a hand on her arm and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before holding out a hand for the supplies.

“It’s okay,” he told her, “I can handle it from here.”

She didn’t look impressed or convinced, but a wave of the gun prompted her to hand them over and pull herself up from the floor, stepping in the direction indicated by the woman. The man looked down at TK with disdain, “You’re done causing trouble,” he announced, “Because if you do it again, I will start shooting, but I won’t be aiming at you. Got it?”

TK swallowed and nodded. What else could he really say to that? He wasn’t about to risk his team’s safety for anything.

“Good,” the man declared with a nod, “glad we’re on the same page.” He turned to Nancy and Tommy now, “Is he stable enough to be moved right now?”

“He’s as stable as we can make him with what we have on hand,” Tommy told him calmly.

“Then we’re moving,” he declared, “we have another van stashed nearby. We’re going to move out,” he gestured towards himself and his companion, “and we’re taking our friend and this one with us.”

When all eyes turned to him TK realized “this one” meant him with a start. Which was...less than ideal, but at least he would know that the other two were out of danger and could probably get help.

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said in her firmest tone, “he’s injured, he needs treatment.”

“Which is why I know he’ll be no trouble,” the man countered, “plus he’s a paramedic, isn’t he? He can treat himself. I’ll let you give him some supplies, I’m not unreasonable.”

TK could practically see Tommy’s anger rising from his position on the floor and he spoke up before his Captain could say anymore, “It’s okay Cap,” he said, hoping his voice sounded more sure out loud than it did to his own ears, “I’ll be fine.”

Tommy turned her gaze to him and was more likely than not going to tell him how many ways that was not happening, but any arguments she may have made were abruptly cut off by the sound of the door banging open and a barrage of police officers entering the scene, guns raised.

TK let himself sag against the wall in relief as he saw their two assailants surrounded and even more when he spotted a familiar gaze in the crowd, filled with fear and worry as it grew closer to him.

“Carlos,” he said quietly, managing to pull a small smile to his face.

“Hey Ty,” Carlos said roughly, reaching out to run a hand through his hair even as he surveyed him for damage. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched as he spotted the bloody gauze poking out from underneath his hand just above his hip.

He reached for it, but TK called his name softly before shaking his head ever so slightly, “leave it be, I’ll be fine. I’m just so happy to see you.”

Carlos looked like he wanted to argue but he bit his lip, turning instead to the crowd behind them. TK followed his gaze and froze when he spotted Gabriel Reyes amongst the officers. He pulled away from Carlos ever so slightly, “Your dad…” he began, but Carlos shook his head, gripping TK hands tighter, not letting him pull away.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he told him, “all that matters is that you’re safe.”

TK had so many questions, but his head was swimming. He wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss or the head injury, but it was getting harder and harder to follow a fluid thought. He opened his mouth to try and ask any of them but was saved from the trouble of doing that by his dad appearing at his side, expression anxious as he kneeled down. He looked him over before calling over his shoulder for a medic and TK tried really hard to follow what was happening but it was becoming so much harder with each passing moment.

He was so disoriented he almost missed the commotion that erupted around them. All he knew was that Carlos’s hand was suddenly gone from his and he blinked several times, forcing himself to focus on what was happening around them. The woman had somehow managed to free herself of the officer cuffing her and had managed to grab her gun again. She was waving it frantically and shouting, but her words were a blur to TK. All he could focus on now was the fact that Carlos was closest to her, and that he was stepping closer to her.

That he was standing firmly between her and TK.

The rest of the world might be a blur of noise and light but this was clear as day. Carlos was stepping towards the woman, hands raised as he tried to speak calmly to her. But TK knew in his heart that he had been right about her state and knew that there would be no reasoning with her. But he also knew that Carlos would try, because that’s what Carlos did. He helped people, no matter what.

The next moment happened in a blink of an eye but TK saw it as if in slow motion. Carlos took a step forward, his soothing voice still speaking to her, still vibrating its way through the air as another sound erupted between them, eclipsing Carlos’s voice.

It was the sound of a gun firing and TK could do nothing but watch in horror as Carlos’s stride faltered before he stumbled. He could do nothing but try to call out his name with whatever breath he still had in his lungs as Carlos went down, and he could do nothing but feel his heart shatter when he didn’t get up.

TK tried to go to him, tried to push himself off the ground. He needed to help, he needed to save Carlos. But his body wouldn’t listen. The pain in his side sliced through him again with a vengeance and the last thing TK saw was Carlos’s unmoving body before his vision faded to black and he knew no more; left with the worst sight he had ever seen in his life as company as he fell into the darkness.

-------

Carlos woke slowly, bits and pieces of his surroundings making themselves known to him and helping to fill in the blanks in his mind: he was in the hospital, he had been hurt, he had been searching for TK…

And that was the thought that brought him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes with a gasp, feeling hands on him instantly. “TK,” he tried to ask, “is he…”

“Relax, mijo,” his dad told him soothingly, “TK is safe. He just woke up from his own surgery a short while ago. His dad assures me that he’s fine, and asking about you.”

Carlos took a deep breath and willed his heartbeat to slow. TK was alive, they had found him. He was hurt, but he was doing okay and Owen was with him. That did answer a lot of his questions, but there were still so many left. Starting with, “What happened?” he asked his dad.

Gabriel settled into the chair at the side of the bed, leaving a hand on Carlos’s arm as he studied him, “What do you remember, Carlos?”

“I remember TK and his team going missing, calling you, and finding them. After that, not much.”

Gabriel nodded and his hand on Carlos’s arm tightened, “One of the kidnappers, the woman, went a little crazy when your colleagues tried to bring her in. She freed herself from the officer’s trying to cuff her and you were closest. Well,” he amended, “you and TK. But you put yourself between them and tried to talk her down. It…” his dad broke off, clearing his throat and continuing with a thick voice, “it didn’t go well. You were shot, Carlos, right in front of me. I was so scared I was going to lose you, mijo. You cannot scare me like that, I am an old man.”

Despite it all, Carlos chuckled, “Please, you are not old dad. There are 20-year-olds older than you.”

His teasing didn’t put a dent into his father’s upset, and Carlos sobered, “I’m sorry,” he said instead, “that can’t have been easy. I know what it’s like to see someone you care about hurt like that. I’m sorry you had to see that, dad.”

Gabriel shook his head, leaning forward again, “You have nothing to apologize for Carlos,” he said firmly, “you only did what you thought was best, what you needed to do to protect the man you love.”

Carlos’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened, but his dad held his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips, “You are not subtle, mijo. I had a feeling since this all started, but the moment I saw you with him, I knew.”

“I’m sorry I kept this from you and mom,” Carlos apologized softly, “that I lied to you when we met at the Farmer’s Market.”

“Stop apologizing Carlos,” Gabriel instructed, his tone matching his son’s, “you have nothing to apologize for. If anyone should be apologizing I think it should be me. Clearly, I did something or said something that made you feel like you couldn’t share this and for that I am so, so sorry. I never wanted you to feel like you had to hide anything from us, especially not this. I’m...” he trailed off and Carlos was surprised to see tears in his dad’s eyes, “I’m just sorry,” Gabriel finished, “I need you to know that. That and the fact that both your mother and I love you so much, no matter what.”

“I do know that,” Carlos assured him, “I never doubted that for a second.”

His father smiled at him and Carlos could feel a weight that had been subtly resting on him for nearly 10 years lifted. He met his father’s eyes and returned the smile.

“Dad,” he said clearly, with a confidence that had been so many years coming, “I have a boyfriend. His name is TK Strand, and I love him. He means everything to me.”

“I’m happy for you Carlos,” his father told him, a soft smile covering his face, “you deserve nothing but the most wonderful love the world has to offer, and I hope this boy can give you that.”

“He can,” Carlos assured him, “he does.”

----------

TK was staring moodily at the dark ceiling of his hospital room. Yes, he was beyond grateful to have been rescued and that his teammates were safe. They had just been by actually — both women very clear that they would stab him themselves next time if he ever tried to do something so reckless again — and he had been happy to see them. Just as he had his parents and his friends, all who had stopped by before the doctor informed them all that he needed rest.

That was all wonderful and he was grateful, but the one person he wanted to see more than anyone else — that he needed to see — was in a room of his own on the other side of the hospital. He had been assured by multiple reliable sources that he was fine: awake and alert and recovering nicely from his gsw (fuck, Carlos had been shot. That was a thought and a memory that was going to haunt him for a while, he knew it). But he had been denied any and all requests of seeing him with his own eyes due to his concussion — hence the dark room as light still wreaked havoc on his head — and the antibiotics slowly dripping their way into his system in an effort to cut off any possible infection from the dirty knife blade before it had a chance to take root. Which, as a paramedic, he recognized was reasonable. If it were anyone else he would have recommended the same. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was him and it was Carlos, and TK needed to see him with his own eyes before he could believe that he was really alright.

Since that was beyond his control, that left him with pouting about it in the dark, which is what he intended to do about it for the foreseeable future.

A soft knock at his door interrupted his plans and when he turned his head in the direction of the door, his breath caught in his throat.

“Carlos,” he breathed, his name emerging from his lips like a prayer as the other man gave him a small, tired smile from his wheelchair in the door. Behind him stood his father, looking at TK with a smile that told him everything he needed to know.

He waited as Gabriel pushed the wheelchair into the room, reaching out for Carlos, taking his hand in his own as soon as they were close enough to touch. He moved to the side of the bed, leaning over and meeting Carlos in a soft, tender kiss that he hoped did something to relay even a portion of the emotions he was feeling. They pulled apart and he met Carlos’s eyes, studying them and him for any signs that he wasn’t okay, but his study was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up, startled, to see Carlos’s father watching them with a bemused expression.

“I will leave you both alone,” he promised, “but first I just wanted to take a moment to meet you properly, TK. I am very glad you are okay.”

“Thank you, sir,” TK said warmly, still clutching Carlos’s hand.

Gabriel shook his head, “None of that ‘sir’ business now,” he told him, “as far as I’m concerned we’re family now. Call me Gabriel, please.”

“Well Gabriel, TK said lightly, “I am happy to meet you, officially.”

He grinned at Carlos, he matched his expression without a second thought. Gabriel watched the pair of them, smile growing.

“I would love to talk more with you TK, take some time to get to know you, but I know when I’m not wanted so we’ll take care of that later. Just remember Carlos,” he told his son, voice suddenly firm, “you’re injured too. Don’t overdo it.”

“Yes dad, thanks.”

Gabriel gave them both a smile and with an affectionate squeeze of Carlos’s shoulder, he was gone.

“So,” TK said as he watched the older man walk away, “you told him.”

Carlos scoffed, “I didn’t have to. He spent all day with me, looking for you. He figured it out pretty quickly.” He paused here, swallowing thickly as he looked back at TK, “God Ty, I was so scared. I don’t know what I would have done…”

TK cut him off, pressing a hand against his face, “Hey, none of that. We’re both okay, and that’s what matters.”

But even as he said it, he could feel his voice waver. The last memory he had before blacking out of Carlos collapsing after being shot would be forever ingrained in his memories, a vision he was sure would come back to haunt him for many nights to come. Carlos leaned forward now, placing a hand on top of TK’s and pulling it away from his face so he could twist their fingers together.

“Same goes for you,” he said firmly, as if he knew where TK’s mind had gone. Because of course he did. It was Carlos, and TK knew there was no part of him that was a mystery to the other man.

“Hey, remember when you said being a Paramedic would be less dangerous than being a firefighter?” TK quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood and Carlos rolled his eyes.

“Only you could manage to prove that wrong,” Carlos fired back, his voice a blend of fondness and exasperation. “Maybe you can try not to keep proving that wrong though, for my sake?”

“I guess I could try,” TK said softly, “if only for you. I love you an awful lot, you know.”

Carlos leaned forward and pulled him into a kiss with more heat than before. It was warm and bright and so full of everything TK had been so afraid of losing for good. When they pulled apart, both breathing heavier and both leaning in, resting their foreheads on each other, Carlos responded, “I love you so much, Tyler Kennedy. Don’t you ever get kidnapped on me again.”

“I’ll do my best,” TK promised, “but I know that if I do, you’d come find me.”

“And I always will,” Carlos assured him, squeezing their linked hands, “no matter what.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #911ls season 2 #911ls speculation #my writing #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #usermaximus #tuserpaige #userbones #jazzyjess #hierophvnts #maizsnex #buckybarnesalways #reyeslonestartag #immortalstrand

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writersrealmbts · 4 years ago

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Diamond Tears and Little Wings: Part 4

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 01/28/2021

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Angst/Fluff: 4,695 words

A/N: Well it’s been forever, and you guys wouldn’t let me forget about this so it’s done, I just have to pick when to post them. Hope you enjoy this update. And Imma say this once, ao3 is going to get more regular updates than tumblr.

You were in a cage.

It was not okay.

And they knew it too.

They were steaming mad when they saw it.

Dehumanizing.

But then, you weren’t actually human.

Jin, thankfully, was never completely kowtowed by the company. He made a good show of backing off, and pulling the other boys back to make them complacent.

Then the moment no one was paying attention he went over, pulling you out, hid you in his pocket and maybe bent the latch on the door so that it wouldn’t close properly.

He handed you off to Yoongi as soon as he could, and Yoongi hid you just in time for the staff to notice you weren’t in the cage and begin to question the others.

The boys kept slipping you to each other as they were inspected for you, but the staff never did find you, and the boys made a big deal out of them losing you.

You loved your boys.

Even if they were making you go through with this fansign appearance.

Tae made a big show of “finding” you just before they went out, then an even bigger fuss with taking you out with him instead of in a cage.

And apparently the staff knew what losing looked like, because they gave in.

So you were hiding in Taehyung’s pocket as they went out to greet their fans, with earplugs in as well as covering your poor ears because holy hell it was loud. While you waited for it to quiet down, you tried to stay completely still.

You could make out the staff explaining that you were there, requesting them to be respectful of noise since you were sound sensitive, but also that you were there because you’d gotten a fairy illness and had to be close to the boys for your health. Which you felt was pretty ironic considering they wanted to send you away if the fans didn’t accept you.

After a few events, Taehyung put his hand over the pocket you were hiding in, the signal he had told you earlier.

You took a few deep breaths, then stood, grabbing the edge of his pocket and peeking out.

No one noticed you at first, thankfully, allowing you to take in the large crowd, and the activity of the boys before you pulled yourself out of the pocket, fluttering up to his shoulder.

The fan in front of him noticed you first, eyes widening.

You squeaked as you slipped over the slope of his shoulder, grabbing the fabric so you wouldn’t fall all the way down and get squished, especially since he was so focused on the fan that he didn’t notice you falling.

You crawled back up his shirt, peering at the fan that was getting her album copy signed. She was cute.

They were all cute. But only because they loved your boys and supported your boys.

She asked something that you couldn’t make out due to the earplugs, but Taehyung grinned and looked at you on his shoulder, replying that you were shy.

You ducked back, climbing sideways until you were behind his head. Then you climbed up until you reached the collar, then his hair, giggling when he flinched ever so slightly at the feeling of you climbing into his hair. You wrinkled your nose at the stickiness from the styling products, then let go, fluttering back down to his shirt and wiping your hands off on his shirt.

A hand came over and rubbed Tae’s neck (almost squishing you, but hovering just long enough for you to get out of the way) then sort of lay out flat, inviting.

You smiled and climbed onto Jin’s hand, riding it over to him as he pretended to stretch—allowing you to hop onto his head (which had less product in it, thank goodness). You tucked yourself out of the way without messing up his hair. You made sure to be able to see everything outside.

There was definitely an increase in noise when you had been visible, but you weren’t certain whether it was due to something the boys did or because of you.

Everything was fine for a little while, then you felt Seokjin shake his head slightly. A couple seconds, or maybe minutes, later, his hand came up. Tense. Uneasy.

You stared at it, then extricated yourself and crawled on.

He passed you over to Yoongi.

Yoongi set you on the table, one finger caressing your hair. He showed you a note.

‘We had to bring you out. Stay close to us.’

You nodded, glad that he was guarding you from the sight of the fans for just a little longer, and kicked the note off of the table.

You made sure you looked okay in your little mirror, then looked up at him, nodding.

He nodded as well, hand moving away as he greeted the next fan in the line up.

You looked around, still a little overwhelmed by the crowd and the scrutiny. Finally you settled on sitting just out of the way between Yoongi and Hoseok and watching the fans pass by, noting the curious looks they gave you.

The whole situation was strange to you. It wasn’t like your presence added anything or took anything away from the event. Not in your mind. You were aware—more than aware—that your gender could be a point of criticism and unrest that could damage their careers.

But you were harmless…weren’t you?

The boys operated as though you weren’t there, focused on their fans. They were very discreet about taking care of you.

You took another deep breath, then pulled out the earplugs.

“She’s so tiny!”

“How cute!”

“Did you see her hiding in Jin’s hair?”

“Her peeking over Taehyung-oppa’s shoulder was so adorable!”

“She doesn’t belong there.”

You closed your eyes, frowning slightly at the bombardment of voices.

“She could ruin their career.”

“She’s too pretty.”

“Jimin-oppa is so handsome!”

“She better not be the kind that can change sizes.”

You wanted to hide. You knew the boys couldn’t hear the comments, their hearing wasn’t as sensitive as yours, but that didn’t mean the comments didn’t exist.

“She isn’t dressed very modestly either. I bet she’s their sl—”

“Oh my Gosh! Look at Jungkook! He’s so cute!”

“Oppa!”

You crawled over and pressed yourself against Yoongi’s elbow, overwhelmed and trying to get the earplugs back in.

His elbow moved and then his hand covered you protectively. He didn’t do anything else, just protected you while you stuffed your ears again. Lifted a finger to check on you, then removed his hand when you signaled you were okay.

You got up, looking around again, then fluttering up so you could look at the picture in the album that Yoongi had opened to.

An excellent picture of Yoongi.

You landed again, looking around, then running toward Hoseok to observe him, tripping when a sticker got stuck on your foot and shaking it to try and get it off, hopping and then falling.

You could hear Hoseok’s laugh, and he carefully picked you up, flicking the sticker off of your foot and then setting you back on the table.

He was talking more animatedly with the fan in front of him, laughing and signing the album in front of him with a genuine smile. He looked so nice when he smiled.

On his other side, Jimin was basically flirting with the fan in front of him. Goofing off, but Jimin was always showing himself. Always showing a touch of honesty in his actions. Opening himself up to things.

You worried about him, but you knew the other boys would always catch him if he fell.

They always caught each other. Supported each other, got each other to the therapist when needed, and held out until the other was well enough to continue without full support.

Where did you fit into that scheme?

You felt your wings droop. They said…they said that they cared about you, and their actions confirmed that. But did they really have time for you?

A finger poked your belly.

You looked up at Hoseok, then grabbed his finger and held onto it.

He lifted you up, peering at you with carefully veiled concern. “You okay, y/n?”

You shook your head.

He glanced at the others, then looked down the line, leaning forward and saying something to the others.

Jimin nodded, then reached over.

You glanced at Hoseok, then dropped into the waiting hand.

Jimin peeked at you, smiling momentarily, then passing you to the next waiting hand.

Jungkook took you carefully, bringing you up to his shirt pocket. “It’s okay.”

You nodded and crawled into the pocket, happy that all the boys with shirt pockets had stashed some of your blankets in them. You wrapped up, trying to calm yourself. Their preparation was just evidence of how much they cared for you. They got you houseplants and they were searching for a new dollhouse for you (you would have been happy with anything, but they were being very particular). They fed you when you couldn’t do it for yourself and took care of you when you were too floaty to do so yourself. They’d brought home dozens of flowering plants, imported different floral teas, got raw honey, brought you toys, made sure their pets didn’t eat you (you forgave Tannie, but man that was a close call), and made room in their hearts for you.

And they gave you kisses, sometimes. Jin was the most allowed to give you kisses, because his were simple and sweet and very quick. TaeTae had given you a couple pecks. Jimin didn’t dare kiss you yet after what happened last time. Hoseok was fond of placing kisses all over your face. Namjoon and Yoongi weren’t as physical with affection so you didn’t expect kisses, but Yoongi often held your hand or let you cuddle up to him. Namjoon liked sharing space with you, and often suggested books he thought you might like, it was his own sort of affection.

Then there was Jungkook.

He’d taken to carrying you around even when you were fine (you weren’t about to complain) and no matter your size.

You wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket, shivering as you battled the thoughts in your head.

Jungkook’s chest vibrated, speaking to the fans. His words weren’t clear to you, but it was lighthearted and happy.

So happy.

Did you really have any right to ruin their happiness with their fans?

But how much happiness would you be taking away if you left now?

You felt his chest move suddenly, like he had laughed or was startled or upset by something.

His fingers suddenly plucked you out of the pocket, gentle but stiff.

You winced and peeked out of the blanket, confused.

His face was tense, especially around his jaw, even though he was faking a smile.

You got the unspoken message. He was forced to pull you out. You needed to show yourself to the fans.

You huffed and wiggled out of the blanket, flying as fast as you could down the line to Namjoon, landing lightly before reaching him completely and walking the last few steps, flopping over his arm and then resting your head on your elbows, watching him interact with the fan. They seemed to be almost down with the signing part of their event.

You rode his arm as he moved it, gripping onto the sleep so you didn’t get thrown into the wall behind them.

There was an increase of noise and then both Namjoon and Taehyung were making sure you were okay.

You hopped off of his arm, sitting down cross-legged and facing the crowd. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

They definitely didn’t hear you, but both boys looked relieved that you were okay.

You sat there, observing the fans for a while. Your earplugs were great, but you could feel the rise and fall in the volume all through your body. You could feel someone bump the table, you would have those spots in front of your eyes for weeks from all of the flashing lights.

You had to make these people like you. Had to make them understand that you posed no threat to the boys. You had to show them that there was no way you could do anything that would be…detrimental to them.

It would help if you knew what those things were, though. Maybe you were detrimental to their career just by existing.

You wished, now, that the boys hadn’t divulged the fact that you were the kind that could change size. You had a feeling that it was the one thing that the fans could never get over.

Your only hope was if you could twist what they knew to be size-changing to your advantage. If you sized up, just a little. Maybe became a foot tall instead of three and a half inches, maybe they would accept that.

But that would depend on the managers insistence.

You could already feel the apologetic look Sejin was giving you.

It was enough to make you contemplate running (or flying) away. Getting as far away from that place as you could. Sparing yourself the trouble because they had already decided your fate and were just waiting for the cruel souls to confirm their judgement.

One year with a family.

That’s all you ever got.

You got up quickly and flew back down to Yoongi, staying close but out of his way. If you hadn’t thought the fans would get the wrong idea you would have just hidden under the table. You could easily evade all attempts you pull out out down there.

As it was, you amused yourself by making some of the stickers float and then stealing one of the extra pens (which was definitely bigger than you and you definitely used pixie dust on it) and finding something to write on—which someone provided in the back of a spare picture they had.

You set up a tic-tac-toe game on the back in one corner and pushed it up to the edge of the table, putting an O in the center and waiting for the next fan. Holding out the pen to her.

She blinked at you, eyes wide when she finally noticed, then she carefully took the pen and added an X before continuing to Seokjin.

You contemplated the thing, then added another O, nodding and waiting for the next fan that would acknowledge your existence.

Which was about three fans later.

It ended up a tie, and you started a new one, but ran out of their fans before the game could be completed.

You pouted a bit, but then the pen was being taken from behind.

You quickly released it and turned to see who was the perpetrator, only to see Yoongi peering at the tic-tac-toe game and then lightly brushing you aside so that he could make a move.

You bounced happily and put in an O, watching his fingers carefully as he debated where to put his X, then fluttering up in glee as he put it exactly where you wanted it. You had this game in the bag. Now, no matter where he put his X, you would still get three in a row.

The volume rose as you did a little victory dance, having thoroughly beat him.

You scurried over to Yoongi’s arm and hid behind it because what just happened.

He shook slightly, like he was laughing, as he picked you up carefully. He was grinning, and definitely laughing.

You tilted your head, curious about what was so funny, but not daring to take out the earplug.

Hoseok reached over and gently poked your head, also laughing.

Seokjin was talking into the microphone to the fans, standing up with the others.

Was the event almost over? Was that too good to be true?

Yoongi leaned in closer. “Go back to Taehyung’s pocket,” He told you, just loud enough for you to hear with the earplugs, but you also mostly read his lips because it was sound and vibrations and your mind’s translation of it was a little hazy, but his lips were clear.

You nodded, getting up and running off of his hand, flying straight for Taehyung, landing on his should and then sliding down his shirt and into the pocket—quickly burying yourself under the blankets instead of in them since that backfired earlier.

Tae patted the pocket once, then was busy talking and moving and maybe hiding in his pocket had been a poor life choice.

But his hand went over the pocket you were in, covering it in a very protective gesture.

You shrunk more, to maybe an inch, to try and escape what would happen next.

Tae’s breathing was slightly hasty, like he was trying hard not to lose control.

You teared up, but quickly tried to dash your tears away. You couldn’t cry in public. The boys had been very adamant on that, and worried, they said it would be dangerous for you if you did.

His hand moved away from the pocket slowly, then one of his fingers came in, simply waiting. A simple request that he knew you wouldn’t want to acquiesce.

You took a deep breath, then wrapped around the tip of his finger.

He carefully pulled you out, eyes wide at how tiny you were.

The other boys looked just as surprised and alarmed—all trying so hard to hide their emotions from the fans and pretend everything was peachy.

Tae looked up and then leaned over to talk into the microphone Jimin was holding, telling them something about being right back. Then he hurried back-stage and seemed to usher the staff away.

You grew back to your normal pixie height, looking up at him desperately.

He signaled for you to take the ear-plugs out.

You did, slowly.

“Little Wing…I know you don’t like it, and I know you know that we don’t like it…but they’re insisting that you show our fans your full size. You can change size back here…but….”

You looked down at his palm, then nodded.

He waited patiently as you calmed yourself a little and then changed sized, but with as small and scared as you were feeling you couldn’t get as big as you normally would. Your chin came just above his belly-button.

His hand softly stroked your hair. “I know how stressful this is.”

You met his gaze. “No matter what happens, they’re sending me away.”

His face became anguished, and he closed his eyes as though to regain some of his composure, pulling you into a loose hug. “We’ll turn the world upside down before we give up on you.”

You took a shaky breath and did your best to grow the last bit to your height, but you only managed a couple inches.

Tae kissed your forehead. “Come on, this is good enough.”

You hugged his arm, keeping on the side that would keep him in between you and the fans, absolutely petrified as he led you back out in front of the crowd. Doing your best to still hide because you didn’t like this one bit.

It got scarily quiet.

“Army, this is Y/n,” Jimin said in a soft tone, coming over to you. “She’s really shy, so this is a lot for her. She doesn’t like being in her big form in front of strangers.”

Jungkook rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a very gently squeeze.

“Y/n, can you say something to Army?” Namjoon asked.

You couldn’t even breath, pinpointing every glare sent your way, and quickly shook your head, rapidly shrinking.

Jungkook scooped you up when you were the size of a toddler, holding onto you firmly. “Do you want to ride on my back?”

You nodded.

He set you on the table and turned around, letting you latch on and then changing the topic to something else like you weren’t hiding by hanging onto his back.

You started to panic when someone grabbed you, but then noticed it was Sejin, and let him take you back-stage. You finally relaxed a bit when you were in the waiting room back-stage and Sejin had shooed all of the staff from the room.

You found one of the boys sweatshirts and wiggled into it, cocooning yourself in the ultra-long sleeves and extra fabric and then curling into a ball on the couch.

You woke again when you were being carried, recognizing the comforting “shh” as Jimin’s and letting yourself drift off a little, barely recognizing that you had been brought into a vehicle.

Namjoon was cradling you when you woke up fully, back at the house. His hair looked freshly dried, and he was dressed in comfy clothing.

The other boys were slowly filtering back to the living room with food and drinks, all freshly showered.

Namjoon tightened his hold on you when he saw you were awake. “Hey, baby.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Hey. How long was I asleep?”

“Four hours,” Hoseok answered, plopping a kiss onto your forehead after moving the hood of the sweatshirt.

Your eyes widened slightly, but were too tired to do much more than that. “So we’ve already been back to the office and then home?”

Yoongi nodded. “It’s no wonder you slept, that was a highly stressful situation for you.

Hoseok didn't look happy. “What were they thinking, forcing you to size up like that? Forcing you into a situation like that?”

“Probably something along the lines of ‘oh, how convenient, a way to get rid of the annoying fairy that we only got them for good publicity’,” You answered.

All the boys looked angry after that.

You shrugged, unwrapping yourself and then sizing up some more, about the size you were earlier. “You know it’s true. Don’t tell me you don’t. The whole point of this is to get rid of me.”

“Why?!” Jimin snapped. “Why would they want to get rid of you? Things were fine!”

You looked up and met Namjoon’s troubled gaze. “The v-live you boys had. The night Jimin kissed me and I got loopy. Someone told the viewers that I could change size.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened slightly, and his jaw set in frustration. “Which makes it scandalous for you to be living with us.”

Yoongi looked like he might be sick. “I said it. Why did I say it?”

Jin rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“It’s not your fault. It would have come out at some point or other,” You told them. “But it’s also because I do distract all of you. I’m a liability on many fronts. I have no doubt that they’re already arranging everything regarding me being taken away.”

Namjoon gently set you on the seat beside him, reaching for a bag beside the couch, not at all surprised while the others still seemed like they were processing it.

You waited, wondering what he had in the bag, but mostly waiting for the other boys to be ready for the rest of the conversation you knew had to happen. It was obvious, now that you looked back, that the staff were preparing to get rid of you.

“I got something for all of us. Had them made, actually,” Namjoon said quietly. “I was afraid that something like this might happen.”

That seemed to get the boys attention.

Namjoon pulled out little gift-boxes. Eight of them. Each one was carefully marked, but you weren’t sure what the marks meant. But he did, handing them out to each of you.

You held your box nervously.

“I wanted each of us to have something, to remind you that we love you, y/n. Especially when we’re busy with shows and tours. Because we already know you love us, and nothing could make us forget that.”

You opened the box, revealing a simple bracelet, with two inset diamond tears. Both microscopically engraved with itty bitty words that you couldn’t make out, only visible to you because, well, you were magic.

Namjoon grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight and pulling the bracelet so the diamonds were over the light, projecting it onto the ceiling.

It had all of their names, and yours, and it said that they loved you forever. And it also had the BTS symbol with fairy wings in them.

You stared up at the ceiling in awe, then carefully took the bracelet. It was made of a magical material, one that would shrink and grow with you unlike most other metals. “This is fairy-made.”

He nodded, looking a little sheepish. “I figured with your tears it was best to go to a fairy for this work.”

You quickly looked around the room.

Tae had a similar bracelet to yours, that he was examining with tear-filled eyes.

Yoongi had a ring with black metal, and was already wearing it.

Jimin and Jin had a necklaces, both different than each other’s.

Hoseok had a different style of bracelet.

Namjoon had a ring that he was playing with, made with a lighter metal than Yoongi’s.

Jungkook had earrings, a stud and a dangling earring, and he was already switching them out.

Everyone was quiet, most of the boys staring at their gift and looking upset in some way.

“When they remove me…because this was a better home for me…my best home…they’ll have to lock away the memories. I’ll be able to keep my things, and the memories can be recovered, but unless I’m in a situation where I am as loved, or more loved, and equally as happy…I would need to return to you all if I remembered.” You carefully put on the bracelet. “It’s a hard process. And they’ll probably send me somewhere else, somewhere I won’t be…as likely to find you, or vice versa.

“Like a different city?” Jimin asked.

“Like a different country. It happens a lot. Fairies can speak whatever language they need.” You shrugged, not looking at them. Not able to bear their heartache as well as your own.

“We’ll find you. Doesn’t matter where you are in the world. We’ll find you,” Jungkook said quietly.

It was quiet again after that.

Then Jin cleared his throat. “Jungkook, help me pull the mattresses in here.”

They all got up to do something, whether it was helping Jin and Jungkook create a giant bed in the living room or getting ready for bed, or just trying to calm themselves by pretending to do something.

Tae was the first to come back to you, cuddling with you on the couch, comparing the bracelets. “I’m glad mine matches yours, but I wonder why hyung did that.”

You peeked up at him. “You were the one who found me.”

His eyes filled, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips that you melted into.

Then the two of you stayed cuddled up while Hoseok directed the madness of making the bed.

Yoongi came over and cupped your face in his hands. “You know we’re not letting you go without a fight, right?”

You nodded, closing your eyes as he kissed your forehead—opening them when he softly kissed your lips.

Then you were cuddling up with all seven boys on the bed, trying not to cry because your mind kept saying, ‘This might be the last time’.

And Jimin’s shirt would definitely be ruined by your tears solidifying in his shirt, but you knew he wouldn’t complain as long as you didn’t mention his tears to the others.

Even Namjoon was crying, though, so you doubted any teasing would be happening.

Hoseok and Jin left, Hoseok’s sobs echoing down the hallway before they locked themselves in one of the rooms.

Yoongi sniffled and squeezed your hand.

Jungkook’s sniffles turned into snores.

And as you fell asleep, you felt the way Taehyung’s breaths shook his body, gently pressed against your back and wings.

–

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