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eloquent--asshole · 3 years

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My Date With the President’s Son

a/n: I’ve been getting a lot of anons recently letting me know they couldn’t find this piece. Well... I found out it was deleted. So, here is a repost of My Date With the President’s Son! I was so sad when I found out it was gone :( BUT IT’S BACK!!! :) And much love to all of you that let me know it was missing! Come talk to me about this, future ideas, or anything! --PJ

hey, hi, hello! this is my submission for the Pick Your Poison fic challenge! I went with a good ole fake dating piece. Also, sidenote: this is the first pic i’ve actually decided to post! Please feel free to message me with any comments, questions, or concern. Also, an absolutely MASSIVE shoutout to @for-fucks-sake-h, @oh-honey-styles, and @andwhenshesays for creating this and letting me be a part of it! I’m so happy I decided to do this even though I was an absolute mess about it! Buckle up kids, it’s about to get messy!

read the other challenge pieces here!!!!! and support them!

"Miss. Y/L/N, I don't think you understand the immense pressure we're under with this mission." My boss, Mr. Thompson, was staring at me from across the conference table. The room was bright. Almost too bright from the fluorescent lights beaming on us.

I looked at my hands resting on my thighs under the table before returning to his gaze. "Well, Mr. Thompson, I don’t think you understand that this goes against not only our ethical codes but my moral beliefs as well.”

Mr. Thompson spoke as he got up and came around the table, taking a seat on the glass two feet to my left. "Miss. Y/L/N, you are obligated to serve your country. However the circumstances may seem. If you do not take this mission, I will be suggesting your employment for termination."

I ran a hand down my cheek. "What –“ I ran the options through my head. Get fired or help the President’s son. Easy decision, really. “How could this even work? Does he know?"

"No, he doesn’t know. Don't worry about the details of that. We will take care of it. Nevertheless, on your part, it must seem as authentic as possible." I looked at him in disbelief.

How could this be happening? What did I do to deserve the position to role play as the President’s slutty son’s romantic interest? I let out a heavy sigh before nodding at Mr. Thompson. He let a small smile break through his tough demeanor.

“Very well, we’ve set up for you two to ‘meet’ tomorrow.” Mr. Thompson got up to open the door at the end of the room. “Oh,” he paused turning to look at me one last time, “And don’t worry, if anything goes off course, you’ll be wearing an earpiece and a mic. So we’ll know and figure it out as we go along. Remember Y/N. We’re all in this together.”

But were we?

I sat in position, waiting for the signal. I was outside a quaint coffee shop where my target was currently buying a coffee.

As I got my cue from the team, I got up and started walking in the direction of the van that was watching our every move. The door to the coffee shop flew open and I felt a heavy weight rush into me "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there," came rushing out of the stranger’s mouth. I looked down at the spilled coffee on the ground between us.

"No, no. It's okay, I should have been paying more attention." I said, letting an embarrassed blush creep onto my cheeks. Why did he have to actually run into me?

"Can I buy you another coffee?” He offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that"

"No, I insist. Really." He said, reopening the door to the café.

"Okay," I hesitated. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Harry. What do you like to drink?”

I heard Thompson in my ear immediately, "Vanilla soy latte,” he basically shouted.

"Vanilla soy latte, please" I offered a smile to the barista, hiding my wince. “A grande.”

"You're joking." Harry smiled down at me. He was taller than I expected. Standing about 6”1. His curls cut into the frame of his sunglasses. Cute. I thought to myself.

"Why?" I asked, letting a giggle escape my lips.

"That's what I drink" He chuckled. Okay. I see what you’re doing, Thompson.

We smiled at each other and finished ordering. The drinks were up almost instantly. We sat at a table I chose outside. Purposely, so the team could continue watching.

"So, tell me about yourself," He started, taking a sip of his latte.

"I-" I paused briefly, waiting for instruction from Thompson.

"You work as the marketing director for Accent" Accent is a huge professional services firm. There’s no way I’m getting away with this.

"I work as a marketing director.” I took a breath, “For Accent."

"That's cool, I have some friends who work over there." Is he onto me? "Do you know Rich?”

"Rich Charleston. Operations Manager. 5"5. Auburn hair. Brown eyes.” Thompson barked in my ear.

"Oh yeah. The operations manager? He's not that tall. Auburn hair?" I questioned, a coy smile playing at my lips.

"Yeah! That's him! Funny, I've been to a few work parties with them. I've never seen you around." He looked at his coffee and came back to me. I felt my cheeks tinge pink yet again. No way I’m making it through this.

"Y/N, you're doing great. Just go with it. You started at Accent three months ago. They haven't had a company party in five months.” Thompson stated. It’s weird. Almost as if playing detective. Wait. I am a detective. A very…high end detective.

"Oh, yeah. I only started a few months ago, so that would make sense." I giggled, taking a sip of my latte.

Harry’s phone started ringing in his pocket. He slipped it out to check the notification. "Shit, sorry. I actually have to get going. I'm late for a meeting. Could I get your number?" He asked, handing over his phone.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I took his phone where the ‘add new contact’ was already on his screen. I entered my information and handed it back. "Great, I'll see you around then."

"Gladly." He was off, hopping into the back seat of an awaiting SUV across the street. As it pulled away, I noticed it was in a no-parking zone. Of course, it would be. He's the president's son.

It has been three weeks since my ‘run in’ with Harry. He texted me an hour later asking if he could see me again. We had seen each other twice over the course of three weeks. Each time in a public setting to ensure the FBI could have an eye on us at all times.

We talked mostly about my work. He had finally let it slide through text that he was the President’s son. It was easy to act surprised through text. It would be harder to act as if I didn’t know my coworkers if it ever got to the point that I would be seeing him in a more intimate setting.

I was starting to realize why so many women were swooning for him. Not only was he handsome – he was charming, sweet, and extremely articulate.

I sat in Mr. Thompson’s office discussing plans for the upcoming benefit. The benefit that Harry had yet to ask me to.

"Mr. Thompson, he has no idea this plan is underway. Like what happens if he tries to make advances on me. I did not sign up to be this boy's actual girlfriend.” I borderline complained.

"Miss. Y/L/N. This is your duty for the time being. We're trying to keep him safe and clean up his image. This is the best way we can do that.”

"Mr. Thompson, with all due respect, what if he actually starts to have feelings for me. What if he asks me to be his girlfriend? What if – "

Mr. Thompson raised a hand to interrupt me. "Miss Y/L/N, if that happens, we will handle it. Mr. Styles will never know. Now for the upcoming benefit. You will attend with Mr. Styles. As always, you will wear an earpiece. Members of the secret service will be aware of your presence. If something comes up, I will be in your ear warning you to get Mr. Styles out of there. Understood?"

"Yes sir,” I agreed, sulking into the chair. “But sir, he hasn’t even asked me.” Thompson’s hands brushed through the air - almost as to dismiss my thoughts.

“Oh, don’t worry, kid.” He snickered. “Mr. Horan, the head of his security, has intel that he will be asking you.”

As predicted, Harry did ask me to join him at the benefit. Giving me a two-day notice. Scratch that. Harry said he wanted me to come to a “party” and ‘wear something suited for a ball’ I recounted the statement as he was dropping me off from our brunch “date” on Thursday.

I stared at myself in the champagne-colored gown in my full-length mirror. I let out a frustrated sigh. This was so wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this to him. He’s actually really sweet. How can I untangle myself from this mess? I could commit treason, leave the country, and lay under the radar. One part of my brain told me. Or be put to death. The other part reminded me. I gave myself one last look-over and decided it was time to head to the lobby.

My roommate, Ashley, whistled at me as I walked out of my bedroom into the kitchen. “Going somewhere nice?” she asked.

“Work event,” I brushed off. I hadn’t told her anything. Specifically, because of the confidentiality behind the mission.

“With Harry Styles?” I froze in my tracks, taking a deep breath.

“How did you know that?”

“Sweetheart. You are all over the magazine covers. Do you think no one has cameras in public? I was speechless. How could I be so naïve that journalists who have such a strong eye on Harry’s personal, party lifestyle wouldn’t spot us out?

“Honey,” I heard our third roommate, Summer, call from the couch. “Did you really think you could be so slick?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ashlie chimed in.

Before I could answer, a call from Harry popped up on my phone. “I’m sorry, I have to go. He’s here.” I said turning on my heel to exit our apartment.

“Wait – “ Summer stopped me – “Can you please give us some juicy details on the man-who – I mean your new fling when you get home?”

I laughed at her response with a nod and started my trek to the lobby.

He was waiting outside the SUV, dressed in a black suit and a matching champagne tie. “Well don’t you look lovely.”

I blushed at his compliment. The security guard driving us gave me a curt nod as he opened the door for us. “Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

When I dodged his kiss, he pulled me in for a hug before gesturing for me to get in first. “Thanks.” Despite the disappointment in his eyes, Harry’s smile was beaming. He looked absolutely adora – Y/N stop. This is strictly for work.

The door shut behind us and in half a second we were whizzing down the street to the banquet hall where the Benefit was being held.

“I’m really happy you agreed to be my date tonight,” Harry commented, not breaking his gaze from the window. “You can meet my parents.”

Parents? As in, the President and first lady of the United States? My body shivered at the thought. I have been in the same room as them before, yes. But meeting them as not an employee – but their son’s date, friend or whatever you want to call it – is terrifying.

“Wow, that would be – “ I tried to find the right words – “nice.”

“Really?” His eyes wandered to mine. “Most people would about shit themselves right about now.”

Well I’m damn near close, Styles.

When we pulled up to the entrance of the venue, our driver – Niall, I learned – hopped out and got the door for us. My eyes were blinded by the flashing lights. Harry grabbed my hand and helped me onto the ground. As we made our ascent, paparazzi were flooding him with questions. “Harry, Harry! Who’s this?” “New flame of the week kid?” “I heard you were bringing Kendall Jenner” could be heard from every angle.

Harry apologized as soon as the doors shut behind us. I shook my head to let him know it was okay.

“I am way too sober for this,” Harry mentioned before we walked into the noisy room. “And it hasn’t even started.” I let out a quiet giggle as he smiled at me.

The benefit passed with ease. As Harry walked us around making small talk and thanking people for coming, Thompson was in my ear telling me who people were and how they got invited. Harry and I kept making trips back to the bar. While I nursed two glasses of wine, Harry had drank 4 rum and cokes. It was becoming clear that Harry was feeling good. Almost too good for him to continue being at this event.

As a last stop around the room, we walked towards his parents.

“Harry, my boy. Thanks for being here tonight,” President Styles pulled Harry in for a hug.

“Like I had a choice?” He rolled his eyes. President Styles gave a laugh, one Harry didn’t reciprocate.

“Who’s this?” His mother asked as her gaze moved to me. Her eyes were kind. They matched Harry’s, I noticed.

“Mom, dad.” Harry said as he wrapped an arm around my waist, “This is my date, Y/N.”

“Hi,” I offered my hand to shake, “It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for having me tonight.”

“The pleasures all ours, sweetie.” His mother affirmed. I felt a smile creep onto my lips. His parents were sweet - partly informal.

As we were making our way to a table, we were stopped by a friend of Harry’s – Louis. Apparently, they had been long time friends. As they grew up, Louis had started a media company, one which Harry happily invested in to help him out.

“Harry, this your date?” He asked curiously.

“Yes, this is my future girlfriend, Y/N.” His words slurred, I felt the wind knock out of me. Girlfriend? FUTURE girlfriend?

“How about a kiss for the camera?” Louis interrupted my thoughts. “For a piece I’m working on?”

“Why not?” This boy was definitely drunk. Without having time to react, Harry grabbed my waist and quickly, yet gently, pressed his lips to mine. It lasted only about half a second and I found myself wanting more.

Harry chatted with Louis for a few more minutes before bidding goodbye and continuing our walk to a table in the back. I brought my fingers to brush against my lips, still feeling his burning into my memory.

The next hour passed quickly. Harry had downed another two drinks because “I’ve already talked to everyone I need to and now I can relax.” I could see why the media calls him a party boy. He’s 0 – 100 real quick.

Our conversation flowed easily and I found myself enjoying his presence.

“I’m having a really good time,” Harry slurred into my ear. He snuck an arm around my shoulders at some point, and I didn’t really care.

“So am I.”

“Good, I was really nervous to ask you.” His admission took me by surprise. The entire three weeks I’ve known him, he never seemed shy. He was always respectful. I’ve learned so much about the party boy that always seemed to be judged. If it were me, no one would care if I went out with my friends every weekend and brought a different guy home. But because he’s, well, Harry Styles. It matters. The presidential family is supposed to be clean, polished, not having any dirty laundry. But the media loves to air his.

I learned Harry had a – what most would call – normal upbringing. Small home in the outskirts of NYC. He went to public school up until high school, when his father had decided to run for congress and got in. His favorite color is yellow – because it’s happy. He loves music from the 70’s and 80’s because it reminds him of his childhood. He knows about his party-boy persona and absolutely loathes it – but continues to live it because it’s the only way he can let go of the stress from being the President’s son.

“Why were you nervous?”

“Well, it’s always intimidating to meet a beautiful woman who knows what she wants in life and won’t settle for less. I was especially nervous because I thought not only my reputation, but my status would scare you off.” My chest felt tight. If only he knew that everything, well half of everything, I told him were lines being fed to me from the Director of the FBI. “And I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you. I didn’t want to lie. But I felt like it would be easier for us to get to know each other before I told you.”

There’s that word. Lie. I hate that word but yet, it’s what I was doing almost every time we were together.

“I don’t want you to ever feel nervous or feel like you have something to hide from me.” I took the hand he had draped around me in my own. “I just want you to be yourself. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. I don’t care about your status or the fact that your parents are the President and First Lady. That’s not something you should feel ashamed of.”

For the first time, Harry’s smile met his eyes. He’s smiled plenty when we’re together, but this was different. He tugged me closer and placed his lips on my cheek. They burned from his touch. My body temperature must have risen 10 degrees.

Did Thompson see that? Of course, he did. Wait, where is he? My smile dropped as I looked across the room, hoping for a sign of Thompson. He hadn’t been in my ear for a while. I wonder if everything’s okay.

“Everything’s fine,” I moved my eyes around the room once more, confused. “I can see that look on your face. I know that look. You were getting worried.”

Where the heck is Thompson and how can he see my face.

“Niall is about to grab you to take you both home. So, I’m off for the night. You’re on your own kid.” I heard the familiar static as they shut my earpiece off. So, they had heard that entire conversation, wonderful.

I smiled, reaching for my ear to take the piece out, but halting my movements when I remembered Harry was still sat next to me.

“Mr. Styles, the car is here.” Niall leaned down to whisper to Harry.

“Alright, love. Off we go.” Harry let his arm fall from my shoulder. I stood to grab my clutch off the table. I paused when I noticed Harry guzzling the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “What?” he asked innocently. “I wasn’t going to just leave it there. Someone could try to sell that since my lips have touched it!” I smirked at him before linking my arm with his.

The drive home was filled with Harry trying to be touchy feely and a bit too flirtatious. Between him keeping trying to rest his hand on my knee, and the many compliments he spewed out in a drunken slur, I felt myself loosening up and enjoying his drunken, flirty presence. Niall made eye contact with me in the mirror one too many times for me to be comfortable with.

He knows.

When we pulled up to my building, I opened the door only to feel a tug on my wrist. I craned my neck to look at Harry, who didn’t let go of my arm.

“Will you kiss me?” His glazed eyes bore into mine as he leaned over to my half of the seat, “For real this time?” I contemplated for a second. Yes, I would like to kiss you again. Will I? I can’t.

I giggled at his lazy smile and glanced to the mirror at Niall who seemed to be minding his own business, “You’re drunk Harry.”

“Would you reconsider if I was sober?”

“Goodnight, Harry” I said, hopping out of the SUV.

“I’ll take that as a maybe!” He called as I shut the door.

What is this boy doing to me?

It’s been three days since the benefit. I hadn’t heard from Harry much, maybe a text or two over the last two days. I wish I could say I didn’t care. But I did. Yes, what I was doing was wrong. But after seeing him in a vulnerable state being drunk at the benefit, he grew on me. A lot more than I’d like to admit. Even though I hadn’t heard from him, I still had the inside scoop from Thompson. Apparently, Mr. Horan was keeping a tight leash on him. No parties or clubs recently.

One thing that should’ve been noticed a lot sooner on my part was that every time I was with Harry or Harry was out, he had Niall maybe 5 feet away. So why the hell would they need me?

Oh right – clean up the image.

“Y/N!” Ashlie screamed from the kitchen. I came to a screeching halt in front of her at the counter. “Have you seen these?” I furrowed my brows as she angled her laptop screen towards me. Right on the landing page of the most popular magazine’s website was Harry’s picture. Stumbling out of a club with none-other than Kendall Jenner, hand in hand.

My brows furrowed even closer when I grabbed the laptop from the counter. I quietly walked to the couch and sat down. ‘Eligible bachelor, Harry Styles couldn’t seem to get enough of the model as they were seen being cozy all night at popular night club, Avalon Nightclub downtown Washington, D.C.’

Would this jeopardize my mission? How would Thompson handle this? What now? Was he really done with me just like that?

With too many thoughts to process, I sat the computer next to me and stared at the blank TV. The weight of the couch shifted next to me. Ashlie slid her arms around my torso and rested her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She was trying to be empathetic; I know. But I also didn’t want her pity.

“It’s okay,” I tilted my head to rest on top of hers. “Who needs him anyways?”

Wait, I do.

I stared out the window behind Mr. Thompson. He tapped his fingers in pattern on his desk, other hand resting on his cheek.

“Miss. Y/L/N.” He started, stopping his fingers from tapping. I flicked my eyes to his. “I knew this would be hard, having the type of personality he does. He doesn’t – doesn’t have a long attention span when it comes to women.”

I looked back to the window, admiring the cars streaming by on the 695. I already knew that. We all knew it. You thought one of your agents could change him? People don’t change because you want them to. They change because they want to.

When I didn’t offer a response, Thompson continued. “Did something happen after the benefit? After we unplugged you?”

I thought back to that night. Our drive home was filled mainly with his giggles and slurred pick-up lines.

“I don’t think – “ I didn’t kiss him. He wanted to kiss me, and I didn’t. “He wanted to kiss me, Mr. Thompson.”

“You didn’t kiss him, right?”

“Yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “No, I mean – yes, I didn’t kiss him.” I clarified. I wanted to though.

“Miss. Y/L/N, we’ve brought in Mr. Horan. Head of his security. ”Thompson waved to Mr. Horan through the window. The screech from the chair next to me as it slid across the tile floor. My eyes flashed to the man next to me. Niall. Now it makes sense.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall cleared his throat, “Nice to see you again.”

“You as well, Mr. Horan.”

“As you know, Mr. Horan here is the head of Mr. Styles’ security and has been keeping an eye on him since the beginning of President Styles’ term. He’s here to shed some insight and help us through this obstacle. He knows Harry the best, so we will have his assistance for matters like this.” Mr. Thompson gestured to Niall to start speaking about what he knows.

“Yeah, so” Niall shifted in his seat and crossed his ankle at the knee. “Harry’s a bit frustrated. He feels like, I don’t know. That you – “ I caught his eyes drift to mine – “aren’t ‘interested’ in him anymore”

I scoffed at the remark, earning a glare from Mr. Thompson. “Miss. Y/L/N, a problem?”

“Sorry it’s just – “ I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, resting my palms on my thighs – “He feels like I’m not interested? When three days after the benefit he’s out gallivanting around D.C? That’s ridiculous.”

“See,” Niall turned towards me, “That’s just it. That’s how Harry copes. He doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms. He thinks the best way to get around his issues is to drink them away. It’s why he drank so much at the benefit. It’s why he drinks so much in general.”

It explains a lot. He had told me that he’s been under stress, and I can only imagine how much stress he feels from having to live up to a perfect image that he can’t attain with his reputation.

“So, what do I do?”

“I’ve tried to knock some sense into him. I may protect Harry for a living, but he is my friend, and I care about him and his feelings.”

The Saturday sun was warm on my skin. I stared at the clouds in the sky, listened to the kids playing about 50 feet away, and the ducks in the pond. I should be at the gym, I reminded myself. Or at least running.

It’d been a week since I last saw Harry, part of me missed him. Thompson said he was going to work with Niall and how to get the boy back on track. Why me out of all people? There were so many young women in the FBI at this point, so why me? ‘Because we see the most potential in you. Half these women won’t make it another 6 months.’ Thompson’s voice rang in my ears from our conversation yesterday afternoon.

The bright darkness dimmed behind my eyelids. I opened one to see a figure standing above me. I jolted out of my comfort.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I said sitting up and criss crossing my legs.

“Uh – “ raising a hand to the back of their neck – “Can we talk?”

“Yeah Summer, what’s up?” She sat opposite of me in the grass and looked around the park.

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” Her eyes never settled on mine. She’s being cautious.

“Yeah, great day to be outside.” I looked over to the swimming ducks, still quacking at each other.

What I would give to be a duck right now. Not having any worries about whether or not my job was still intact. If my friends hated me for lying to them. If the boy I liked was done with me before even having a chance to know me, and really me.

“So,” Summer started after a few minutes of silence. I looked at her expectantly. “Someone dropped by today to see you.” My heart jumped; my palms started to sweat. Was Harry at my apartment?

“Harry?”

“Uh – “ she faltered – “No, Louis?” I scrunched my brows, confused. I wracked my brain trying to figure out who Louis was. “He said he’s a friend. You apparently met him at the Benefit? I told him you were out and didn’t know when you’d be back. He said to call him and left his number.” I looked at my crossed ankles. Oh, Louis. Wait, Louis took that picture of me and Harry. What does he want? “Do you know him?”

I looked back at Summer. “Yeah, he’s… he’s one of Harry’s friends.”

“You should probably call him, he looked in a rush.” I lifted my head in a nod, letting my eyes fall to the grass between us. A comfortable silence took over. “Y/N, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about whatever happened between you and… him. But I’m here for you if you do.”

“I know that, Summer. Thank you.”

I took a few steps into my room and tossed my purse onto my bed. I decided I should give Louis a call to see what’s going on.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Louis. It’s Y/N. I heard you stopped by today.”

“Oh!” He sounds surprised. His tone quickly hushed. “Y/N, thanks for calling. Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I sat in my desk chair with one leg tucked under me. “What’s going on?”

“Can you meet me?” There was a long pause.

“Wh – “

“In an hour, at the park by the white house.” Before I could respond, I heard the click of him hanging up.

What?

I didn’t take much time to get ready to meet Louis. I threw a gray zip up sweatshirt over my tank top and slipped on my flare jeans with converse and was on my way. Louis texted me to say he wanted to ask me a few questions about the benefit – for a promotion he was working on for his company.

The sun had set on my way over, the purple, black sky taking over the D.C air. I glanced at the sky as I stood by the lamp post in the park. The stars look beautiful tonight. My eyes kept traveling around the park. Something I was trained to do. Have your eyes everywhere at all times.

I heard him before I saw him. The heavy footsteps, deep breathing. He sounds troubled. I whipped my head in the opposite direction.

“Y/N?” He asked, pulling the hood off his head. I could only nod. “What are you doing here?”

“I – “ I was off the script. No earpiece with Thompson telling me what to do, who to be, anything. “Just out for a stroll.” Harry stared at me as if he wasn’t really seeing me. He shook his head, his long locks falling in front of his face. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling the pieces that had fallen from his face.

“By… the white house?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I love this park. Very peaceful with some great views.” I concluded. Louis sent me here, he knows what he’s doing. He and Harry are longtime friends. They must’ve talked.

“Right…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around.

“I wanted to talk.” “We should talk.” We spoke at the same time. Our eyes locked before breaking into giggles and looking at our feet.

“You go ahead,” Harry encouraged.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

“I –“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “How drunk was I that night?”

I blinked harshly, not expecting him to ask that. “What?”

“I don’t remember much after slamming my drink right before we left and…” He took a step away from me. “I was a little embarrassed and I wasn’t sure if I said or did anything wrong and… I thought if I held off for a bit then it wouldn’t be a big deal…”

“So why still didn’t you call?” Harry shook his head, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“You didn’t get my voicemail?” He quirked his head.

“What voicemail?”

“Y/N, I called you like three times.”

“What?” Then it hit me. Thompson. Thompson tapped my phone when starting the mission to have all the details. But why?

“I just kinda thought you were done with us and I had done something after the benefit.”

“Harry, I had no idea. Honest… Is that why you went out with Kendall?”

He laughed at my question. “I haven’t gone out with Kendall. I haven’t seen her in months. Those pictures are from like… November.” I was bewildered.

I composed myself before speaking, “I’m sorry to have assumed the worst…”

“It’s okay,” he stepped closer. “Can I come to your place?”

“Right now?”

He glanced at his feet and back to me, “Yeah.” He murmured. Only meaning to be heard between us two.

“Are you okay?” I tucked some stray hair behind my ear, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right.

“I just – I just don’t want to go back yet. I had to sneak out and I just need some time away.” Running one hand through his hair, he grabbed my hand with the other.

“Okay.”

The ride to my apartment was quiet. Harry didn’t say much about what was going on within the White House walls, although I’m sure I would find out come Monday, if not sooner. I was trying to read his moving eyes, but there wasn’t much to tell. His eyes told a completely different story than his lips.

His lips spoke of stress and hardship. His eyes shine like the moon over a Georgia river in the dead of night.

When I finally parked my car in the lot, Harry slid out of my car with grace, taking my hand as each of us rounded the back of my car.

“This is it,” I sighed when opening the door to my apartment.

“Wow,” He looked from the kitchen to the living room before turning to face me, “Cute.”

“Oh my gosh,” I whipped my head to see Ashlie coming into the entrance in a towel from the hallway – clearly not expecting company.

“Uh – Hi.” Harry awkwardly waved.

“Hi, wow. Wasn’t expecting you.” She gave a small smile and gestured to her attire.

“It’s not a problem. Nice to meet you,” Harry extended his hand for her, which she gladly took, “I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’m Ashlie.” Ashlie let out a flirty giggle. You know, the kind you hear at a bar when a girl is trying too hard to let a man know his jokes are ‘funny’.

“We’ll uh – be in my room.” I remarked, breaking up the awkwardness I could feel radiating through the room.

Harry trailed behind me, telling me he thought Ashlie seemed nice.

“How many roommates do you have?” He questioned, taking a seat on the foot of my bed.

“Two. My other roommate, Summer, is probably at her boyfriend’s.” I hung my hoodie over the back of my desk chair and took a seat on it backwards so I could face him. Harry nodded his head before letting his body fall back onto my bed. “So, what’s going on? At home?”

“It’s nothing,” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“It’s obviously something if you’re sneaking out and wandering parks at night without guards. How’d you even get away with that anyways?”

“The White House has many escape routes that can’t be seen by the control room. I’ve found them all.” He stated, putting his hands behind his head.

“Interesting.” The silence that filled the room was deafening. “Harry,” I paused waiting for him to look at me. His eyes gradually found mine. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired of my family and the security telling me my behavior is ‘unacceptable’ because I’m the President’s son. I can’t go out with my friends. I can’t be seen with girls who are friends. I can’t have a drink in a bar.” He stood from my bed and started pacing around my room like his life depended on it. “When I’m in the White House, all I have is people barking orders in my ear, telling me what I can and can’t do. What I can and can’t wear. Who I can and can’t see? So, I guess,” Harry brought his hands to his head and started pulling his hair at the roots, “When I do get to go out with friends, I get carried away. Unfortunately, every time.”

I didn’t know what to say. What I want to say? I can relate. What can I say? Nothing.

When he moved to sit back on my bed, I joined him. He brought his chest between his knees and bowed his head, taking the stance of looking like he was about to vomit. I rested my hand on his back and tried my best to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades, still looking for the right words. “Harry, I’m sorry. I had no idea that was something you had to deal with.”

“I know, because I don’t share that part of my life. Not with anyone. The only one who really knows is Niall. But that’s only because he’s with me when I’m out and that’s when it all comes out.” He lifted his head and turned to look at me. “He’s the only person I really trust. He’s my best friend and I trust him with my life. I know it’s his job to be there. But, he’s the only one I really have.”

“That’s not true. You have loads of friends. I’ve seen them in the pictures with you.”

“No, those people – while they’re nice to hang out with – they only care about my status. They care about Harry Styles, President’s son. Not Harry.”

“I – I don’t know what to say.” And I truly didn’t. Here he is, spilling his heart to me again, and I can’t even reciprocate without blowing my cover.

“You don’t have to say anything. I thought Niall was the only person that actually cared about me. As in Harry, the person. And then I met you.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry sat up and turned his body towards mine, grabbing both my hands in his.

“Y/N, I know you would never do anything to hurt me. You care about me. You ask me about me, not what my family is doing, or what bills are going through congress. Or even try to advance your career through me.”

My mouth got dry, but I felt like I was drowning. How can he not see through this act? When will I give it up? When will Thompson have it cut? His eyes bore into mine.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

“I – I like you too Harry.” I have to tell him; I have to tell him the girl he thinks he knows is not who she says she is. I have to tell him; this was all part of my job. But this isn’t. It’s not your job to be here with him right now.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” The proposition tore me from my thoughts. I got up and headed for the door, gesturing for him to follow me down the hall.

I plopped on the couch flipping the TV on. Harry sat next to me and flung his arm to the back of the couch behind me.

“Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?” He looked over to me, nodding excitedly.

We flipped through Netflix for 10 minutes before finally deciding on 27 Dresses. The movie was the only thing that could be heard in the living room. At whatever point, Harry let his arm fall onto my shoulders and pulled me into him. I let my head rest on his shoulder as we continued watching.

“Hey Y/N?” I looked up at him, humming in response. “I’m sober now.” I scrunched my eyebrows and opened my mouth to speak, “Can I kiss you now?” My heart sped up, and my cheeks warmed with the blood rushing to them.

“I - I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I let my head dip so I wasn’t looking at him.

“Why’s that?” He asked, confusion taking over his tone. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but... I would really like to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I do. It’s just - “ I thought of all the things that could possibly go wrong - the FBI busting into my apartment to have me arrested, me starting what feels like a real relationship based on lies, breaking his heart after he let me in.

“Then let me,” Harry cupped my cheek and brought our gazes together. I stared at him for a moment before lightly nodding.

His lips ghosted over mine before gently pressing together. I swear I could hear his heartbeat. Or maybe it was mine. I rested my hand on his cheek and his hand moved to my waist, pulling me as close as possible. It wasn’t heavy, and it wasn’t quick. It was soft and sweet, like him.

He pulled away and leaned back into the couch. A smile graced his face. I nuzzled back into him and pulled my feet up on the couch.

I woke up to the room completely dark, the only light coming from the dim light above the oven. I was still laying on Harry. I sat up, removing his arms from my waist. I grabbed my phone from the table to check the time. 2:36am. Oh shit, I turned back to wake Harry.

“Harry, Harry wake up. You have to go.” I shook him out of his sleep.

“What why?” He stirred, rubbing his eyes, barely coming out of his sleep.

“It’s 2:36AM.”

“Mmmmm comfy.” He closed his eyes again and rested further into the couch.

“Harry, no. You’re gonna get into trouble.” I stood up and grabbed his hands trying to pull him off the couch.

“No, I won’t”

“Harry,” I insisted. When he wouldn’t budge, I gave up. Flopping back into the couch.

“Can I just stay – you won’t even know I was here.”

I woke up in my bed. I looked at my clock next to me. 9:22am. Was it a dream? I sat up, same tank top. Same jeans. I searched for my phone to find it under my pillow with a sticky note.

Left around 5. Carried you to bed and didn’t want to wake you. Call me. – Harry

Sticking my phone in my back pocket, I pulled myself out of bed and let my feet guide me to the bathroom. What did I do? Why did I have to do that?

After staring at myself for almost two minutes, I decided to call Harry.

“Hello?” his voice was chipper.

“How’d you get home?” I asked, putting the call on speaker so I could wash my face.

“I took an Uber. I woke up to one missed call and one text from Niall asking if I was in my room from around 2. I figured it’d be best if I was back in the house before sunrise and not let anyone get suspicious.” At least he was thoughtful of other peoples’ sleep schedules.

“Ah, alright.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you wanted me to call you?” I stated, remembering his note.

“Oh, yeah! I’m picking you up for breakfast.” He said, I could feel his smile through the phone. Man does this boy get right back on the love train; I swear.

“You? Or Niall?” I teased, breaking into a smile. I grabbed my washcloth and wet it to begin washing my face.

“Ha ha. Funny. No, me. Just you, me, and some delicious breakfast.” He clarified. Should I tell Thompson? Probably.

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.” We said goodbye and felt my heart beating faster. I quickly texted Thompson to let him know what was happening. I started the shower and dropped my clothes. Washing everything quickly, I felt my nerves beginning to settle in. Should I even have said yes? What if Thompson doesn’t want me to? Too late.

When I got out, I checked my phone for a response.

Thompson – 9:37am: Earpiece.

He really was a man of few words. Powerful words, but few. I quickly blew dry my hair and changed into some leggings and a ¾ sleeve blouse. Finishing putting on some light makeup, I heard a knock on the front door.

“Harry!” Ashlie exclaimed, “Good to see you again.”

I walked out to see Harry looking awkwardly at her. She was asking how everything was going for him, to which he politely smiled and said “Fine, Thanks.” His eyes lit up when they connected with mine.

“Hey, you.” He smiled, pulling me in for a hug

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile and accepting his arms around me.

“Ready?”

‘Let me just grab my purse,” I said, backing away down the hallway towards my room. I quickly grabbed the earpiece from my drawer and inserted it into my ear. I grabbed my purse from my desk and started heading back to our entryway. I paused in the doorway, glancing at my open drawer with my pistol sticking out. I slipped it into my purse before returning to Harry. “Okay, let’s go.”

Ashlie moved to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast, taking peeks over her shoulder at Harry. She shot me a wink as Harry opened the front door to lead us out.

When we were settled in the car, Harry turned to me. “First things first, I wanted to say thank you to you. For last night. And I’m sorry if I was intruding.”

“You weren’t,” I reassured him, “You never are.” As I finished my sentence, I heard the static in my earpiece. Thompson’s on.

“Morning superstar. I don’t know what happened last night, but good job getting him back.” If only he knew.

Harry turned on the radio for our drive. As we drove further out of the city, he told me how he loved some of the neighborhoods we were driving by. Mostly because he had friends living there that he made when we were in high school because Mr. Styles would often bring him to D.C., and he would meet other congressmen’s children.

I laughed at his jokes, and when he sang. Frankly, he can’t sing. But he does a very nice job trying.

When we pulled up to the café, I noticed it was quite small. Niall hadn’t brought us here on our previous brunch meetings.

“Where are we?” I questioned.

“Oh, my dad used to take me here in high school. I don’t get to come too often anymore. Ya know, security and everything.”

Right.

Breakfast went exactly how I thought it would. Harry talked about his life, asked me about mine, and Thompson fed me lines that apparently “Niall had done ‘research’, and this is what Harry wants to hear.”

But this time, when I laughed with Harry, I felt more genuine. My feelings were too. I really liked him. He was kind, generous, thoughtful. Everything a good man acted like.

When he dropped me off, Harry walked me to my door. I didn’t hesitate to kiss his cheek. Harry grabbed my hands and squeezed them.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” He glanced at his feet, letting a grin bless his features with his dimples showing perfectly. I nodded, squeezing his hands back. He pulled me into him for a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, not wanting to let go.

“Bye, Harry.” I opened the door when he let go of me.

“Bye, Y/N.”

The next week felt like it flew by. I would see Harry after work, either for dinner, a drink, a movie, a walk, really anything he could think of to see me.

Thompson would be in my ear, encouraging me. Sometimes he wasn’t, those were my favorite nights with Harry. I could be myself without having to worry about if Thompson thought ‘Well that wasn’t the right thing to say.”

My phone ringing brought me out of my sleep. I looked at the caller ID and immediately answered.

“Hello?” I greeted, rubbing the sleep from my left eye.

“Can you come over?” Harry asked, his voice cracking near the end. I pulled the phone away from my ear. 1:11am. After a pause he added, “Please?” The desperation in his voice was almost tangible. A shiver ran down my spine just hearing his broken voice.

“Yeah, of course.” I threw my covers off of me and grabbed my nearest pair of jeans. I pulled them on and picked up one of Harry’s long sleeve t-shirts and ripped it over my head. “I’ll be there in 15.”

“Thank you,” he sobbed. “I can let you in by the east garden.” I hung up my phone and hesitated to grab my keys. I should take an Uber. Guards would see my car parked near the White House. I opened the Uber app and ordered a car.

“Morning ma’am.” Said Andrew, the driver.

“Morning,” I grumbled, climbing in the backseat.

“How was your night?” he asked, smiling at me through the rearview mirror.

“Could be better,” I sighed, rubbing my fingers into my temples.

“Oh, I totally get it,” he started. Andrew talked almost the entire way about his night. When he dropped me on the corner a block away from the White House, he concluded his rant with “And that’s when I kicked him out. Well, I hope your night gets better! Life’s too short to have bad sex.” I gave him the best smile I could muster and got out of his car.

I walked up the street and crossed through an alley to get to the East garden. I saw a sliver of light coming from a shrub. The sliver of light grew bigger, giving away that it was actually a door. A disheveled Harry appeared in the light. As I got closer, I noticed his eyes were red and puffy. He’s been crying. When I was close enough, he instantly crashed his body into mine, holding me so tight I might combust.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” I asked, cuddling him closer. He let out a choked weep. “Come on, let’s go.” I said, pulling away. He grabbed my hand and led us through the tunnels.

When we got to the halls, Harry looked around every corner, checking for guards before sneaking us to his room. The door clicked shut and the only thing I could hear were his soft sniffles. I took in the room before me. It was large and decorated for a king. There were items scattered, a chair tipped over, and a lamp lay broken on the floor next to his bed.

He took a seat on the edge of his bed, lowering his head with his hands covering his face. I walked over and took a seat next to him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and took another look around.

“Harry,” I whispered. “What happened?”

“He’s so disappointed in me.” He mumbled, barely audible. His body shook with sobs, soft enough to go unnoticed by anyone passing by.

“Who? Your dad?”

“He said his approval rate has barely gone up, and when he asked the cabinet about it, they – they told him it was my fault.” My heart broke at his words.

“Harry, I’m so – “

“He doesn’t get it. No one does,” he ripped himself from my grasp and stood in front of me, facing the door. “I have him, his cabinet, members of the staff, media, friends, everyone constantly yelling at me. Just because I want to go out and be normal. Live a normal life.” He was facing me now, arms flailing around to get his point across. “And as soon as I get something right, it’s not good enough!”

“What do you mean?” I inquired. I stood up and placed my hands on his shoulders, leading him back to sit down. “Talk to me.”

“You,” he stated as if it was obvious. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been trying to better myself. Not go out as much, get away from the crowd that only talked to me because they want something. I haven’t had any interest in doing that because – well. I want to be the best man I can. For you.”

I stood straight at his confession. I was left speechless. I took a deep breath before kneeling on the ground in front of him. I opened my mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say.

“Harry, I – I’m proud of you for doing all of that.”

“Well I’m glad someone is,” he exclaimed. He threw himself back onto his bed and covered his face with his hands.

I got up and sat next to him, criss crossing my legs. I grabbed his hands from his face and held them.

“I’m sure your dad is proud of you too. He just doesn’t know how to say it.” I tried to assure him.

“Yeah because ‘if you would’ve kept the clean image like I told you to’ screams ‘I’m proud of you.” He groaned. He grasped my hands and brought them to his chest.

“Well, let’s think about this. Your dad is the President. He has a lot of people to answer to, and I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress.” I explained to him, rubbing circles on the backs of his hands

“I know, I know. But like, there’s a way to talk to your kids.”

“Yeah, and I’m not saying how he handled it was correct. I’m just saying, from his perspective, he’s probably not mad. Just frustrated. And I’m sure he’s proud of you for trying to better yourself.” I paused, glancing at the door. “Maybe you should just talk to him about how this experience has been for you. I know you haven’t and that might help him to better understand where you’re coming from.” I concluded.

“You’re right. I should probably try to talk to him in private.”

“Wanna hear a joke?” He nodded, cracking a small smile. “What did the drummer name his daughters? Anna one, anna two!” His giggle filled the quiet room, a chuckle left my own lips. He pulled me down, so my head was resting on his chest.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He tucked my hair behind my ear and caressed his hand down my cheek.

“I’ve been told,” I joked, returning the smile he gave me.

“No, I’m serious,” He looked at the ceiling before continuing, “You give really good advice that makes me think from another perspective, and you can make me laugh even when it feels like my world is crashing - not even two minutes ago.” He glanced back down at me. My eyes never leaving his face.

We stayed like this for a while. Talking about life, things we believed in, conspiracy theories, the best type of pasta (Tortellini was unanimously voted), everything.

Harry walked me back to the East Garden entrance around 3:00am.

“Are you sure you can’t stay the night? Niall can just drop you off in the morning.” He tried one last time.

“I’m sure, Harry.” I let out a quiet laugh. “But hey – maybe we should just keep this between us two? I don’t want to get any weird looks from m –“ I stopped myself before the words ‘my coworkers’ escaped my lips, “your guards.”

“Of course, don’t worry.” He kissed my forehead and watched as I waited for my Uber. Occasionally throwing out pick-up lines. My favorite being ‘Are you a time traveler? Because I can see you in my future’ I casually waved as the Uber pulled up.

“Y/N?” She asked. I nodded and opened the door. I took one last look towards the entrance, seeing just the crack of light, knowing Harry was watching through it.

The next few weeks continued like this. Harry sneaking out to my house, and me to his. Each time learning new secret passages that brings me to his wing, or his room. It got to be exciting, really. Seeing Harry without Thompson in my ear. I had somehow convinced him to keep Niall out of the loop of our late-night meetings. But, of course, going on public outings was a different story. Niall would be waiting in a blacked-out SUV, I had my earpiece in, and I had to give Harry lines fed from Thompson every other sentence.

Sitting in Thompson’s office was something I should be used to by now. However, ever since Harry and I began having our midnight rendezvous, I had been anxious every time Thompson was even so much as in the same building. Although Harry and I haven’t so much as kissed since that night in my apartment, every time I saw him, I could feel the sexual tension radiating off him like I was standing next to a bonfire. He was waiting for me to make the first move, which I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. It would put so much more confusion into this already sticky situation.

Harry has grown into my friend. Of course, there was romantic interest. But I couldn’t jeopardize my cover. To him, I was Y/N Y/L/N. Marketing director for Accent. Small town girl from Carolina. I went to college for Business. I have my mom and two younger brothers back home who encouraged me to follow my dreams and move to D.C. If he knew who I really was. We could never have a relationship. If he knew I was being paid to play his romantic interest, things would never be real for us.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Thompson’s serious tone tore me from my thoughts, “We’re aware that things have gone swimmingly since Mr. Styles had picked you up for breakfast a couple weeks ago. But how are you?”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m well. He seems to be just fine. Hasn’t been as much in the spotlight. And the press - ”

“Miss. Y/L/N,” His tone lightened a bit. Thompson clasped his hands on his desk and softened his eyes toward me. I locked eyes with him as he continued. “Y/N, how are you doing?” His question took me by surprise. Thompson is always business. Hard-core authoritarian and never cares about sick days, let alone mental health days. He didn’t care if you were vomiting on the curb, you better show up for duty.

“I – What?” I asked, bewildered. My jaw fell slack, and I prayed he couldn’t hear my thoughts.

“Y/N, I know this must be extremely hard on you. I know I asked a lot of you when I assigned you to this. I want to be sure you’re doing okay. You two spend a lot of time together and I know how charming he is. I’ve met him on several occasions.” He chuckled, pushing his chair back and coming to sit next to me.

I turned toward him and put on a poker face. “Mr. Thompson, I know the longevity of this mission, and I know what a great deal of stress this is putting on everyone involved as well.” I couldn’t help it, I let my face fall into one of agitation. “But when I’m with him, I can’t help but think of how real it is for him. How would he feel if he knew that my interest is just a hoax? That it’s part of my job description to play this part?”

Thompson moved out of his chair and moved to the windows that looked out into the office. He took his time shutting the blinds before he came to sit in front of me on his desk.

“Y/N,” He started, the unease in his voice was something new. “I know your concern for his emotions is genuine. It’s part of why I hired you. You fully invest in what you’re doing. And that’s a trait that’s hard to come by nowadays. But I also hired you because I know how tough you are. You don’t let people push you around. You’ve truly shown your character with this.”

He took a long glance out the window at the cars driving down the 695. Did he have children? I never asked. We weren’t supposed to ask our superiors about their personal lives. The office and field were strictly professional.

“The unfortunate part of our jobs, is the mere fact that everyone we interact with, is part of our job. Whether it’s a civilian on the street, or the Queen of England. We’re on guard the whole time. Take Niall for instance.” He finally brought his gaze back to mine. “Niall is the closest we have to getting inside Mr. Styles head. To understand his motives and how he may be putting a risk to himself. That’s where we come in.”

“I don’t under – “

“Like Niall, we have Joe. Joe is the head of security for President Styles. President Styles may not understand what we’re doing at the time. But always comes to thank us later.”

“Mr. Thompson,” I let the confusion slide onto my face. “With all due respect, I don’t understand how this relates.”

“What I’m saying Y/N, is that, even though it may not seem like it, we do have Mr. Styles’ best interest at heart. But to do that, we need to be on the inside as well.”

I left Thompson’s office feeling even more anxious than before I entered. The phone ringing in my pocket halted my movements. Harry was trying to FaceTime me. I took a sharp right and entered the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind me.

“Hey,” I greeted him through the screen. He was in a car, driving. His sunglasses were pulled onto his head, pushing his chocolate locks out of his face.

“Hi! Oh – I’m sorry. You’re at work, aren’t you?” He apologized.

“Oh – yeah,” I fibbed. I hated this. I wanted to scream how I didn’t work at Accent and haven’t the slightest clue what marketing strategies were. You’re in too deep at this point, slick.

“How about I come pick you up for lunch? I can say hi to Rich.” He excitedly proposed.

“I can’t today, I’m sorry. I – uh” Think Y/N, think. “I’m actually in a business meeting with a prospect. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. What’re you doing tonight?” He didn’t even seem fazed. He had grown used to my typical 9-5 day. That was actually midnight to midnight and being on call over the weekends. I, technically, was always working.

“I think Ashlie was cooking some homemade eggplant Parmesan. What’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over tonight. Maybe watch a movie with some popcorn?” He gave a light smirk, before turning it into a full grin.

“I could be up for that. After dinner?”

“Do you want me to send a car to get you? Or would you like to sneak in as usual?” There was a hint of annoyance laced in his voice. He seemed to be getting tired of sneaking around.

“I can get myself there,” I stifled a laugh, trying to lighten his mood. “East Garden?”

“Yeah, okay.” I felt bad, that I couldn’t just stroll up to the main doors of the white house. But what security didn’t know didn’t hurt us. Well, me.

I arrived at the East Garden at 8:58, Harry was waiting with the door slightly cracked, as he had continuously done throughout our little meetings.

“Hey, ninja,” He smirked.

“Ninja?” I giggled as he pulled me into a hug. He rested his head atop mine, arms around my waist.

“Yeah, I think it suits you.” He snickered.

“If only you knew,” I whispered. I pulled away, “Shall we?” He reached for my hand, interlocking our fingers. Something I had grown accustomed to.

We settled in his room, laying back on the pillows. He pulled me into his chest as The Notebook started.

“Hey Y/N?” He gingerly murmured into my hair. Feeling the day weigh on my eyelids, I offered a hum in response. “How much do you. Ya know, like me?”

My eyes flew open at the question. My heart shook my toes with how hard it was beating. “What do you mean?” Trying to keep my voice even, I tilted my head to look up at him.

“Like, we’ve been seeing each other for a bit now, so I was just wondering like.” He grabbed my left hand and gave it a squeeze, “What are we doing?”

“Harry I – “ I took a deep breath. You knew it was coming. Play stupid. “I don’t follow.”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I sat up and turned to him, criss crossing my legs. “Harry, as much as I care about you,” The words were harder to get out than anticipated. “I really enjoy what we have going on. And, I mean, with your status. I’m nervous about it … blowing up. Does that make sense?” I shook my head at his disapproving eyes. My voice started to waver as I continued, “I’m sorry, I just. I know how nasty the media can be and…”

Harry bolted up, grabbing my face ready to wipe any tears that could fall. “Hey, I don’t want you to apologize. I just, I don’t know. I feel like you don’t want to be seen with me or something. Even around my own house…” his voice trailed as he looked down at his own legs.

I took the opportunity to grab his hands, rubbing circles into their backs. “Harry, I promise that I really care about you. I just, I’m not ready for something like that.”

“Okay, I understand.” His gaze peered back up to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you. I would just really love to show off the woman that has stolen my heart.” I stole his heart and felt mine drop. “Will you let me know when you are?” I could only nod. “Come on, let’s lay back down. I love this movie.”

I don’t know when Harry fell asleep. His soft snores filled the room long before the movie ended. I couldn’t move, but I had to get out of here. I had to tell Thompson I couldn’t do it anymore. I checked my phone for the time. 4:27. I have to go home. I carefully unhooked Harry’s hand from mine. I gathered my things from his desk before spotting a notepad. I glanced over at the sleeping boy. You at least owe him the courtesy to write him a note that you were leaving. He’s done the same before.

I scribbled a simple “Couldn’t sleep, call me tomorrow. - Y/N” On the paper before putting it next to him on the bed.

I cracked the door open as quietly as possible and stuck my head through the crack, looking for any potential sign of life. I slid my body through the door and shut it as lightly as possible. I ran my hands down my face and started down the hall.

“Y/N?” I froze as I was about to round the corner. I slowly turned around to find a confused Niall standing at the other end of the hall. He took several glances between me and Harry’s door. “What are you doing here?” His tone was cold.

“Niall, I – I didn’t think you’d be roaming the halls this early in the morning.” I tried to laugh it off while taking several strides towards him.

He stared at me dumbfounded. “Does Thompson know you’re here?” He took my blank expression as an answer. “So how long has this been going on?”

“Niall, it’s not what it seems.” I defended.

“No, you’re just sneaking over to the WHITE HOUSE in the middle of the night for no reason. Not to hook up with Harry?”

“Niall, it’s really not like that!” I raised my voice slightly.

“Then tell me what it’s like Y/N. You know this could jeopardize the mission!” Niall raised his voice higher than mine. Not seeming to care if other guards heard him.

“I’m being his friend, Niall!” I cried. ‘That’s all.”

“Being his friend?” He asked bemused. “I don’t think FRIENDS do what you’re doing, Y/N.” His voice lower this time.

“Niall, I’m just trying to do the best I can! There’s no precedent for stuff like this! He calls, I answer. If he asks me to be there for him, I am. Like three weeks ago when he had an all-out meltdown!” My hands swung from my sides, to cover my face.

“That’s my job Y/N, not yours. I’m the one he calls to handle situations like that.” He stated the obvious, raising his eyebrows. He spoke almost as if he was telling a three-year-old that they couldn’t jump off the monkey bars because they could get hurt.

“Yeah, Niall. I know it’s your job. But have you been doing it? Are you really his friend and have you been handling it?” I countered his argument. If Niall was the one to handle situations like that, then why did Harry call me instead?

“Y/N, I leave him alone when he gets like that. When he’s ready to talk, he does. I think I know him a little better than you.” Niall crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, and his voice was ear-piercingly serious.

“Do you, Niall? Do you really? You may know about everything he’s going through professionally, but –“ I took a deep breath, composing myself so my voice was even. “Do you even know the real him? The sensitive Harry that talks about how hard this life is?” I paused taking in Niall’s cold expression

“How about the Harry that’s favorite color is yellow, or that he loves rom coms because they always end happily? Or what about the Harry that’s just trying to cope because this isn’t the lifestyle he planned or hoped for? Do you even know him Niall?” My voice crippled as I finished my rant.

Niall doesn’t know him. Niall knows what he needs to know so he can report to Thompson at the end of the week. Trouble he got into, bars he went to, where the paparazzi who photographed his every move worked so they can get the pictures back from his blacked-out adventures.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall’s voice was too evenly keeled. “At least I know my place, when it comes to my job. Unlike you, who has no issues crossing clear boundaries. I will be pleased to inform Mr. Thompson of your little rendezvous with Mr. Styles this evening.” He turned his back before flicking his face over his shoulder, “And I’m sure we can find out about all the others as well.”

“What?” Niall froze in his tracks; I was too afraid to turn around. “What’s going on?”

I turned to find a red-faced Harry standing in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Harry,” our voices came in unison.

“You – Niall. Mr. Thompson?” The confusion took its rightful place on his face. “This,” Harry glanced at his sock clad feet. “This was a set up?” I couldn’t find the words to defend myself. “How did you – when were you – “ The unfinished questions never left his lips.

“Harry, I can explain.” My voice was thick. It almost hurt to get the words out. If I didn’t vomit when explaining to him why I like the privacy, it was sure about to come up now.

“You both… you both…” another unfinished question. He shut his door behind him and started walking in the opposite direction of both Niall and me. I gave a desperate glance to Niall, who quickly motioned for me to follow him.

“Go, you should talk to him.” His voice was soft. We both knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. “Better you than me right now.”

I jogged to catch up to Harry. “Harry wait,” I called reaching out for his hand. He quickly swiped it from my grip and quickened his pace. “Harry, please let me explain!” I cried.

“Explain what?” He growled, stopping in his tracks. I stopped just before I crashed into him and took a step back. “Explain how you can go about your day just - just lying to me? About everything? Making me feel these things for you?” His voice was exceptionally hard, barely able to detect the hurt laced through.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” I whispered. ”I – “

“Sorry for what.” He barked, whipping around to face me. “Sorry for making me trust you, or sorry for getting caught in your big scheme.” His words rifled through me like he took an AR-15 to my heart. You should’ve known this could be the outcome. “Whatever you’re sorry for, I don’t want to hear it. See yourself out, I’m done.”

His shoulder bumped me as he walked past. I turned to watch him go back down the hall and around the corner back to his room. I remained motionless when I heard his door slam shut. I felt the wetness of a single tear rolling down my cheek and quickly raised my hand to wipe it away.

How could you have been so stupid, Y/N?

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nctsjiho · 3 years

Text

Still My Favourite

warnings: none

era: Fall of 2018

❀ JiHo reassures Jeno he’s still her favourite

It was cool fall evening, one of few where JiHo had some time outside of the company and more specifically the practise rooms. With more schedules coming up at the end of the year and the beginning of the following year, it was nice to take a little breather.

Currently, JiHo was sitting in a lesser known park in Seoul. It was one she had gone to a few times before when she was only a trainee. The park was such a nice place to be since the only people that really visited were older couples and very “to-themselves” individuals. The chance that she would get recognised was very small and even if she would be, the people usually didn’t care to point it out or make a big deal out of it. It had happened before with a girl close to her age, but she was so nice to just say hello and went on with her day.

Sat at one of the park benches, JiHo had her knees pulled to her chest. She hadn’t anticipated it getting this cold. It was bearable, luckily, but still she could feel the goose-bumps rise on her skin. Her shorter hair didn’t help the breeze from hitting her exposed neck and the simple leggings and black jumper really didn’t offer her much warmth. Fortunately she knew help was coming soon and the pieces of clothing at least created a barrier between the chilly air and her skin.

JiHo’s eyes wandered around the as good as empty park, peacefulness engulfing her. It was nice to be able to catch a breath and relax after a long week of practises.

So lost in her own thoughts it took the medium sized dog jumping up against the park bench and directly barking at the girl, for JiHo to notice there was a dog in the first place. At the sight of the dog JiHo immediately sat up. She didn’t quite know if dogs could look really happy or smile, but she knew for a fact that this dog was smiling at her. She didn’t hesitate to reach out for the dog and the medium sized pup had seen that as an invite to jump up into her lap.

Dog’s breath isn’t a nice smell, but it had been a while since JiHo had seen or hung out with a dog like this and so she accepted the excessive licking on her face with giggles and a big smile. “Ai- Yasu! No!” A small older lady came jogging up to JiHo and the beige, almost white, dog - apparently named Yasu. JiHo who was still laughing at the dog’s licks and the way they wiggled in her lap, held a hand up to the woman. “Don’t worry, I love dogs.”

The woman’s partner had joined the conversation, pointing out that their dog Yasu usually didn’t care for people so seeing him this excited was somewhat shocking. JiHo had taken it as a massive compliment and when the dog finally settled in her lap, she engulfed him in a big hug. Yasu placed his head on the girl’s shoulder and she could feel him relax.

JiHo and the dog’s owners continued their conversation asking what the girl was doing their alone. She eventually told them she was an idol - she didn’t bring it up at first and tried to avoid telling them but the older woman had a way with words which had her confess her profession - and how she wished she could have a dog. Their conversation was halted when Yasu had started barking. He was still looking over JiHo’s shoulder a growl coming from his belly.

The young idol looked back to see who was approaching and when she noticed who it was she started reassuring the dog. “Yasu, it’s okay, it’s my friend.” She told the dog sweetly while petting his back. “Jeno! Come here!”

Jeno had left about 5 to 10 minutes earlier to get some food at a nearby convenience store. He hadn’t expected to come back to JiHo with any company, let alone this much and company of this kind. Jeno sat down next to JiHo, placing the food behind him so the new 4-footed friend wouldn’t get to it before they could.

“This is Yasu and his lovely parents.” JiHo started introducing. The older couple smiling brightly at the nice introduction, they were impressed by the young foreigner’s manners and social skills. “And this is Jeno.” She introduced to them. Jeno stood up quickly to bow at the elders and sat back down. He reached his hand out to pet Yasu, but quickly retrieved it when Yasu bared his teeth at him. He flinched to which JiHo quickly told Yasu that it was okay and that Jeno was a friendly person.

The 4 of them - well 5 if you count Yasu - talked for another few minutes before the older man spoke up. “I see your friend brought some food, we’ll leave you two alone now.” His wife quietly protested but he brought his arm around her shoulder pulling her close to him. “I know these children are really nice, but I’m getting jealous that your attention is only on them now. It’s usually only on Yasu so I want my time with you as well.” The wife blushed a little bit, called her husband a charmer and turned to the 2 teenagers. “Maybe we’ll see you here again some day. Enjoy your food.” Yasu hesitantly jumped of JiHo’s lap where he had made himself comfortable for the last couple of minutes upon his owner’s call. JiHo and Jeno bowed at them and waved the couple goodbye.

Once they were far enough away, Jeno moved the food between them. Surprisingly the heated up food was still warm enough to enjoy and the other snack foods were just amazing in general. “Yasu was really cute right?” JiHo inquired, shoving some of the noodles in her mouth. Jeno squinted his eyes and hummed reluctantly. It prompted a chuckle from the girl and Jeno sighed. “He didn’t like me.” “I’m sure if we had more time with him that he would warm up to you. His owner’s told me he normally doesn’t care for people anyway.” “But he liked you.” He whined.

The two enjoyed their food together, talking about random things, until dogs came up as a subject again. “I didn’t know you liked dogs so much.” Jeno said and JiHo sighed at that. “I never got to have one, but their were a lot in my area growing up. They’re 100 percent my favourite animal. I wish I could have one.” “Why don’t you get one?” It was so easily asked, but getting a pet took a lot of responsibility and time, time that JiHo did not have. “If I get one now, I know they wouldn’t get the attention they deserve.” A sad smile placed itself on JiHo’s lips and Jeno nodded understandingly.

Jeno and JiHo decided it was getting late and got up to leave. They took their trash and walked over to the trashcan, making sure they didn’t leave anything behind. Not dropping the previous conversation Jeno spoke up. “You could get a dog later? You know in a few years when you’re used to being an idol.” JiHo chuckled once he brought up the subject again. “Why are you so adamant about me getting a dog?” Jeno shrugged. “You just seemed so happy with Yasu.” It should’ve been a good thing, but JiHo wondered why Jeno looked a little down. “Are you jealous? Don’t worry you’re still my favourite puppy.” The girl teased and reached out to ruffle Jeno’s hair. Flustered the boy swatted away her hand and denied her statement. “I’m not jealous! I just think you deserve to be really happy and honestly I haven’t see you smile so bright and for so long as when you did with Yasu in your lap.” JiHo was moved by his words that held so much truth. There was something about dogs, or pets in general, that was so stress relieving. Dogs in particular just want to love and be loved and JiHo loved how pure their intentions were.

Some members had compared her to a cat since she picks and chooses when to be loved and when to give love. Though Yuta had taught her that receiving love, and particularly his, wasn’t really her choice to make. She just had to take it, but she didn’t mind.

Even though JiHo’s really sociable, she does like to have her time alone or at least be somewhere in the back were she can just observe what’s going on without having to be part of it. Her cat-like characteristics were very charming and they contrasted very well with the dog-like characteristics of some of the boys. It was a dog and cat kind of relationship which was adorable in the eyes of those watching.

Knowing that JiHo wanted a dog was surprising to Jeno. She never really brought it up before. After their conversation where she expressed how much she liked the animal Jeno made a mental note to always let her know if their was a dog nearby or send her some dog pictures and memes every once in a while.

“Well don’t worry about it Jeno. I have you and Jungwoo, two puppies is already enough for now.” JiHo smiled as she noticed how the boy wanted to retaliate but ended up swallowing his words. “Maybe one day I’ll get a dog.” She thought out loud which had Jeno, though he didn’t want to admit it, a little excited. “What would you call it?” JiHo acted as if she was in deep thought. “Hm... I don’t know, maybe... Jeno?” She trailed off and then looked at Jeno for a reaction. He didn’t look amused at the teasing in the slightest and brought a hand up to hit her arm, but she took of running. “Sorry not sorry!” “Come back here!” He ran after her. “If I get a cat I’ll call her JiHo then!” He yelled, not caring if anyone else could hear him.

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct jeno imagine #nct jeno fluff #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children Ch.4

In Which: exposition for exposition's sake exists, and Vlad looks way more suspcious than he ought

| AO3 | Prologue | 3 | [4] | 5

VLADIMIR MASTERS. Human male in his mid-forties, and most notably the founder and CEO of VladCo, a billion-dollar industry that mostly specializes in manufacturing weapons and technology. Graduated summa cum laude from the University of Wisconsin despite having to drop out due to a lab accident in his second year, landing him in the hospital. Despite being based primarily in Wisconsin, he made an unexpected move to Amity Park Illinois shortly after reuniting with his college friends Drs. Madeline and Jack Fenton.

Not even a year later, Masters ran for mayor of Amity Park and won the election by a landslide. Suspicious, considering Masters being an unknown and the former mayor Montez being quite popular. It’s during Masters’ tenure in office that reports of ghost attacks to the Justice League steadily died down.

“Why?” Damian asked.

Barbara shrugged, pulling up a few files on the screen. “I originally had a theory that related to VladCo’s buyout of Axion Labs—a technological research and manufacturing company that’s mostly local to Amity—being a factor. Within the last couple of years, they had been experimenting with highly volatile chemicals with hallucinogenic properties. Amity had always been known for being extremely superstitious with its ghosts, and if Axion Labs had somehow accidentally released that chemical into the city, well…” She leaned back into her chair, hand twisting in the air. “You could bet how that ended up. The hysteria around ghosts only grew worse in the last two years, with suspected sightings from once every few weeks to multiple in a single day. Early attempts to capture sightings were unsuccessful, and soon enough Amity Park was just written off.”

Much like the mass hysteria surrounding the urban legend of the kuchisake-onna in Japan in the late 1970s, Bruce thought. He pulled up some news footage from Amity Park dated a few years back of citizens being interviewed about their ghostly encounters. Beside these videos were a few photos taken by a shaky camera, showing bright blurs of light streaking across the sky or vaguely humanoid shapes rising from the ground.

“So VladCo., bought out Axion Labs, improved its security, and slowly helped detoxify the town?” Damian shifted his weight onto his other leg and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought, but—”

“But the ghosts ended up being real.” Bruce pulled up a video of a field reporter-slash-weatherman taking cover as a figure dropped from the sky, breaking through the walls of a building. The figure—features distorted by an eerie glow—shot out of the rubble just in time before a green blast hit it.

Oracle enlarged other news footage with a few taps on her keyboard. Beings zooming through the air. Massive plants erupting from the ground. Technology coming to life. Each video more worrying than the last, and most showing some footage of a figure bathed in a white glow. “I’d be hard pressed to call any of these faked.”

It begged the question as to how Amity Park survived this long unscathed. Since, if he remembered correctly, even the Dark Leaguers tended to avoid Amity Park like the plague. “They have their own heroes, then?”

“Think along the lines of vigilantes with unofficial support.” A few more files popped up on screen. One showcased a female in a full-length black and red body suit on top of a hover board. The other was a male; young, perhaps a teenager, with white hair and a black and white suit. Hazmat? “The Red Huntress and the Phantom of Amity Park.”

“Partners?”

“More like enemies working on the same turf. Sources place Phantom as appearing first, though it seems Red Huntress has more government support in the end despite there being no official statement. They seem to be the most effective ghost hunters in town, though far from the only ones. The Fentons of Fenton Works are also acting as ghost hunters, though their track record of success leans more towards their anti-ghost tech than any hunting. The town’s even attracted visitors from the Ghost Investigation Ward; a side branch of Cadmus though a now defunct organization.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Damian said. “If anything, this should be more than enough reason for a League intervention. Why the Justice League didn’t come sooner is the real question here.”

Bruce’s lips thinned. “That’s because we were warned off it.”

“What?”

While there was no rule against heroes entering another hero’s city, there were certain unspoken rules that demanded that JL members avoid claimed cities or stay just outside of city lines until given permission to enter. Some were especially strict about it such as Batman’s ‘no metas or outsiders’ rule. Others were more lenient, simply requesting a warning before entering.

Amity Park, despite having no listed heroes in the database, was marked with heavy ‘Do Not Interact’ warnings for humans and metas alike.

“Justice League Dark said that under no circumstances should the League interfere in Amity. The situation was never explicitly laid out for us except to say that everything was being handled.”

“Oh yeah,” Oracle chimed. “Constantine even had it bolded, underlined, italicized, and in all caps. The occult community was very clear about everyone staying away—and apparently this decision had support from Amity Park too.” She pulled up another document. “That’s probably what led to the decline in their ghost reports, actually. Amity’s claims were considered bogus and brushed aside. No one outside their town—not even their sister town of Elmerton—believed them, so they simply stopped asking for help.”

Strangely, it reminded Bruce of Gotham. Both cities existed in its own isolated sphere, unwilling to let any outsiders interfere in its business.

“It’s safe to assume, then, that whatever Ra’s al Ghul wants with Amity, it has to do with these ghosts. Do we have anyway to contact the town’s vigilantes?”

Oracle shook her head. “Ghost attacks within the past few months have slowly died down along with sightings of Phantom and Red Huntress. Your best bet is asking Masters directly.”

Damian glowered. “Masters blatantly sent out an invitation for Batman to my father. How do we know that Masters hasn’t somehow found our secret identities?”

“Unlikely,” Bruce said. “Vlad Masters, despite his wealth, has done well to keep a low profile. He’s met Bruce Wayne a total of three times within the last decade and Batman not at all.” That, and with the kind of spyware Batman has, he’d be able to tell when, where, and who was trying to dig deep into Batman’s past. Masters hadn’t even registered as a ping.

“Besides, there’s always a few rumors of Wayne Enterprise’s involvement with Batman. All this tech has to come from somewhere, no?”

“How long is Masters staying in Gotham?”

“Umm…” Oracle leaned forward in her chain and flipped through a half-dozen windows. “Going by his reservations at the Gotham Royal Hotel, he’s leaving tomorrow.”

Bruce pivoted on his heel, heading deeper into the Cave. “We better make this count, then.”

------

According to Oracle’s intel, Vlad Masters was staying at one of the executive suites in the Gotham Royal Hotel. A titanic structure with forty-eight floors, two towers, and the gothic aesthetic that never seemed to leave Gotham’s architecture.

Scaling the building as well as entering the suite proved no challenge for Batman and Robin. But upon entrance, it was abundantly clear that the room was vacant.

“Are you sure you guys are in the right room?” Bruce could hear the clicking of Oracle’s keys through their comms. “Masters had reserved the suite on the west tower.”

“Yes we’re in the correct room, Gordon,” Robin hissed.

“Codenames only, Robin.”

Robin clicked his tongue, sweeping the common room for any hidden bugs or cameras as Batman scouted out the rest of the room. The bed was made to hotel standard and the bathroom towels all completely replaced. There were no clothes in the hotel closet or dresser.

The only thing left that indicated occupancy of the room was an unmarked manila envelope unsubtly tucked within a pillowcase.

Robin tensed at the sight of it. “A detonator of some sort?”

Batman rotated the package, holding it up to his scanner. “Doesn’t seem to be. Regardless, it might be better to take it back to the Batcave and locate Masters ag—” The envelope started ringing. A standard ringtone found in most phones. Quickly, but carefully, Batman opened the manila envelope and dumped its contents onto the bed. A ringing burner phone and a flash drive came tumbling out.

Batman threw the flash drive at Robin before answering the phone, holding it up against his ear but saying nothing.

Silence. Then, Masters’ voice filtered in through the phone with a strange echo-like quality. “Good evening, Batman! I’m so glad my invitation managed to get passed along.”

Batman growled into the speaker, “What do you want, Masters?” He signaled Robin to do another sweep of the room for any signs of Masters they might have missed.

“I sincerely apologize for not being there to meet you myself; incredibly rude of me, I know. But it cannot be helped, the shadows are growing ever bolder.”

“So, you are aware then, of the League of Assassins’ presence in Amity Park?”

“A league of assassins? What a terrifying notion that is.” Batman frowned. It was unlikely that they had misread his words at the gala, so why was he acting unaware now? Could he be watched? “Why such a group would appear in my little town, I wouldn’t even dare to guess.”

Robin came back into the room and signaled back ‘negative.’

“Why did you call for us, Mayor Masters?”

“Do you know what is so very tragic, Batman?”

“This is strange,” Oracle said. “I can’t pick up his signal. He’s not appearing on any of my cameras, either.”

“When someone so young dies much to soon.” A pause. “Could you even imagine such a thing? A parent burying their own child.”

Batman could. He had no need to even imagine it because he lived it.

“Some very close friends of mine have been weighed down by the shadows of death and I require help in providing them the closure they need.”

“Are the Fentons the targets, then?”

Masters paused. Then let out a breathy laugh over the phone. “Oh, if only it were that simple.”

“So a different target.”

“Everything you need to know is in the flash drive I’ve enclosed in that envelope Whether you take up the case is entirely up to you—though I do hope you take it. Regardless, if he is not returned soon then I assure you that a disaster unlike any you have seen before will arrive.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat, Masters?”

“No,” He laughed. “That was no threat. That was promise.”

The phone line disconnected just as Oracle exclaimed that she finally found Masters boarding his flight back to Amity Pak.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

The Writing Game ~ KNJ [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 3.3K

↬↬↬Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

↬↬↬Genre: Producer AU, fluffy, cute, first kiss, first I love you, confessions

"Are you willing to put money on that?" That's all you'd heard when you walked into the lounge in the BigHit building that night, it had been a super long day and you were ready to sleep but you'd heard Jimin first and wondered what he was talking about. Your eyes left your phone to see Jimin, Jungkook and Namjoon all staring at one another,

"Are you placing bets on Jin and his girlfriend again?" They'd been placing bets on how long it would take for Jin or his girlfriend to call off the wedding that they had been planning for months, your hand came into contact with the back of Jimin's head and Jungkook ducked so you couldn't get to him.

"No! We're betting on something else." You smirked dropping down between Jimin and Jungkook,

"Let's hear it then," You waited for a response but it was clear none of them were going to tell you what it was so you got up from the seat and walked over to Namjoon. He had been one of your best friends at BigHit, you'd been writing and producing music with him for years.

"Joonie, what is it they're doing?" You put out your bottom lip putting on the sweetest act you could while trailing your hands over his shoulders.

"T-They're placing bets on who could make the best song for the album." Jimin frowned hearing Namjoon stutter, he had no idea that you had that effect on his leader but now he'd seen it he wanted to see it again.

"We know you're the best team but when we put our heads together, we're better." You scoffed at Jimin's comment rubbing Namjoon's shoulders, you had no idea the things you did to Namjoon. He'd had a huge crush on you when you first started working there but he never did anything about it because of the company rules. ''No dating other staff members'' It was a simple rule to follow but not for Namjoon, he felt himself falling harder for you every day you spent time together.

"That's the biggest lie, me and Namjoon could kick your ass with our eyes closed." You scoffed moving away from Namjoon and sitting back down with the boys, Jimin smirked. It was going to be easier than ever to make you work together so closely. Namjoon caught on pretty quick to what Jimin was hinting at,

"Jimin we're busy Y/n doesn't want to bother herself-"

"Sure I do, Namjoon we're the best and we'll win in no time." Your confidence was boosting any other time Namjoon would have jumped at the chance but he could tell there was a catch from Jimin coming,

"We have until Friday to finish a song each and then we'll present it to Bang PD at the end of the week." Jimin clapped his hands together before Namjoon could even say no you were already shaking on it and writing up the rules to make sure there would be no cheating going on.

"Namjoon come on, we've worked on things together a million times I thought it would be fun...Are you mad at me?" The thought of Namjoon being mad at you made your heart hurt, he'd always been one of your many inspirations at work and also the guy you'd been madly in love with for the last six years....No one was ever going to know that though, not when you could hide your love for him in songs that he and the boys would sing to.

"I'm not mad I'm just tired Y/n," You could tell by the tone of his voice it wasn't true, that he was clearly mad about something but wasn't about to sit and tell you all of his problems.

"Then let's call it a night, we've been here all day and we both know we can write a banger in a couple of days anyway." It was true, you'd done it before. Writing hit songs with Namjoon by your side was one of the easiest things, you could bounce ideas off one another easily, nothing was ever off-limits to talk, rap or sing about together.

"Why don't we use one of our drafts and just say we wrote it?" He grumbled at you, he didn't want to be sat in a room with you all week, having his emotions run high whenever you sat close to him or smiled at him. His eyes landed on your face and he saw you tearing up, he instantly realised how much of a dick he was sounding and he felt bad,

"It's not that I don't want to Y/n it's just-"

"It's whatever, just tell Jimin we lose." He took hold of your wrist promising you that he would take it seriously tomorrow after he'd gone home and gotten some rest.

"Go home, get rested and come back tomorrow okay?" He questioned looking deep into your eyes he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt your feelings, it was one of the last things he'd ever want to do.

"Sure." You smiled reassuringly at him and grabbed your car keys,

"Do you want a ride back?" He shook his head at the question, he'd ridden his bike that morning so he would just ride that home instead.

Tuesday:

The whole morning you and Namjoon had been sat in his studio trying to decide if it was going to be a classic love song or if he wanted to do something completely different. Deciding that both of you wanted to write about love,

"Who do you think about when you're writing?" You questioned looking away from your piece of paper, you had pages full of small lyrical paragraphs all about the guy sitting right across from you on the sofa inside of his office. You had your legs resting against his while he had his resting against the sofa hiding the pad from you which, much like yours, was covered in small paragraphs about you.

"Just someone I hold dear, you?" You looked down at the page, you don't know why you'd expected him to say you. You'd always hoped he liked you but as the years went by you realised there was nothing there between you except friendship.

"Same really," He frowned looking at you, you were scribbling things down like crazy and you had the look of sadness across your face.

"Did they hurt you?" You laughed softly, you felt pathetic telling him all of this since it was him you were truly talking about.

"No, he doesn't even know I like him." His hands clutched onto the pen he was holding, you liked someone- You loved someone? He wasn't angry with you he was angry at whoever was taking you away from him...Not that you were his but someone else held you close to them and hurt you with it.

"Why don't you tell him?" You scoffed loudly and started laughing at the statement almost forgetting that it was him you were talking about,

"He's not interested in me like that, I just need to deal with it and move on." Namjoon nodded along to what you were saying feeling slightly hopeful that you were willing to move on from whoever was hurting you like this,

"What if we channelled that?" You frowned not following along with what he was asking of you,

"Wrote a song about moving on? Or feeling heartbreak?" You nodded a little trying to think of ways you could work it out, you didn't want to move on from Namjoon but getting the feelings of your heart being broken up would help a little, it was a genre of song you weren't exactly good in though.

"I've never tried heartbreak songs-"

"I'll help," He rushed his sentence a little too much but he was desperate to help you move on, he didn't like seeing you hurt he wanted to do something he knew would help, channelling emotions helped him and he knew for a fact that he helped you a lot as well.

Wednesday:

The whole Tuesday was spent writing lyrics together while Namjoon went onto the piano, you were going to have a slow song. Heartbreak was meant to be about channelling all of your emotions and effort into the one song and feeling each lyric that you were going to be singing. Namjoon had decided to add a small rap into the song as a verse, writing about how he felt about you. All of the heartbreak he felt around you and how he could never be with you, how you could never truly be his when you were in love with someone else. Today had been a long day and you hadn't had time to come and produce some of the song with Namjoon. You were supposed to be working on it together but he knew how busy you got when you came into work. It wasn't just BTS that you worked with, you worked with a lot of the other groups in the building along with your own work that you never let anyone see or hear.

"I've been with Soobin and the boys all day I'm sorry." You said to Namjoon when you saw him coming out of his office, he shook his head promising you that it was fine but it didn't feel fine to you,

"I finished putting the backing onto a track it's fine-"

"No, Namjoon we're supposed to work together." He placed his hand on your wrist, he knew for a fact that you had been in the big hit building from 5 am that morning because he'd checked the staff sign-in sheet when he came in. You were always pulling those, coming in super early and not leaving until really late, Namjoon hated that you pushed yourself like this but he also adored how dedicated to it you were that you were willing to do all of the overtime if it meant it would pay off.

"Go home, we're done for the day I promise." You nodded along not planning on listening to him,

"Want a ride?" You asked you knew for a fact that he didn't need one because you could see the keys to his bike lock in his hand and the helmet in his bag

"No I'm okay, come on." You walked towards the elevator together you were trying to act a though you were really going to leave and not come back into the building when you knew he wasn't going to be there.

The moment you knew Namjoon was gone you rushed back up to his studio, removing the spare key from your bag and making your way inside. Everything was still on his three monitors and you smiled walking over to them and sitting down in the huge chair he liked to use. You just wanted to hear what he had done with the track and then maybe improve on it a little, it had to be perfect since it was about him and he didn't even know it. You wanted it to sound so good that Jimin would cry the moment he heard you both singing on the track, you hit play and the song began to come in from the speakers. None of the singing you had recorded was there yet but the piano playing along to the tune you'd written was.

Clicking the space bar again you tried to pause it but somehow - even though you'd been using the system for years - it deleted the entire piano section, along with the singing piece you'd recorded for the song.

"What?! No!" You yelled trying to undo it but the computer kept crashing the system,

"Fuck he's going to kill me." You whimpered pulling up a new project and going to input the singing back on only to see that it was deleted from the entire system. Everything except for the piano which was within a different folder was gone. You were going to be in for a long night of rerecording the lyrics and the producing it all before you went home.

Thursday:

Namjoon came in early that morning, he wanted to make sure you hadn't done what he thought you were going to do - sneak back inside and do some extra work.

"You have a present in your studio," Jimin smirked as he came out of the elevator on the ground floor, JImin had walked in and saw you asleep wearing one of Namjoon's hoodies and a pair of leggings it must have been cold there last night.

"What are you-" Namjoon cut himself short when he remembered that Jimin knew about the crush he had on you and was doing this to force Namjoon to face his feelings about it.

"She's up there?" Jimin nodded frowning when he saw a look of annoyance spread across Namjoon's face,

"What's wrong? I thought you liked Y/n?" Namjoon groaned trying to push his floor button but Jimin slapped his hand away wanting to get answers,

"I do and you know that which is why you're doing this but I told her not to come in last night, she's exhausted Jimin." He pushed the younger boy out of his lift and waited for the doors to clothes. He couldn't help but think about how tired you must be since you'd been there possibly all day.

Opening the door to his studio he was surprised to see you with your head resting on the table, he walked further into the room and sighed when he saw that you were asleep.

"I told you not to come back in here," He whispered scooping you up from the chair being careful so that he wouldn't wake you up, you clearly needed the sleep if you were asleep at the desk. As he laid you down on his sofa you let out a moan before mumbling something and turning over, he smiled hearing you like that and went to get a blanket. He knew that you were in his hoodie, it was one of the favourites he owed and kept at the studio - truth be told he kept it there hoping that you would borrow it whenever you got too cold around him.

"Namjoon-ah." You mumbled in your sleep as he laid the blanket over your body. You snuggled against it waking up but not opening your eyes.

"You're cute when you're asleep," You heard him whisper, you kept your eyes shut trying not to flicker them or give any clue to the fact that you were now awake and listening to everything he was saying,

"I wish I could tell you how I feel you know...Even if it wasn't for this whole staff members aren't allowed to date I don't think I could ever tell you." His hand pushed some hair out of your face but he smiled looking at you,

"I don't think I'd have the confidence to tell you how I feel about you." Your heart clenched at the thought fo Namjoon having any kind of feelings about you, all of this time you'd thought he just saw you as nothing but an annoying sister or something.

"Being in love with you has helped me write so many songs I think I could produce 16 albums all with 22 tracks each." He chuckled at himself before leaving a small kiss on your forehead,

"Get some sleep darling," As soon as the door clicked your sat up and looked around the small office trying to gather your thoughts together.

Friday:

You went home Thursday without seeing Namjoon, you could see him while you were trying to process everything he had said to you, it was a lot. That he was in love with you and wasn't even planning on telling you? Now that you knew you had no idea what to do with yourself if you were supposed to face him knowing that the guy you loved loved you back.

"Y/n?!" You dropped the bag you were carrying, you had been attempting to sneak into the lounge without being seen but Jimin was stood behind you wondering what you were doing.

"What are you doing?" He questioned watching as you bent down to pick up the bag and stand up to him again,

"I was going to wor-"

"You have presentations with Namjoon, we're about to show Bang PD the songs-"

"He finished it?!" You hadn't expected Namjoon to do all of the work so you followed along with Jimin towards one of the conference rooms. They were really taking this seriously, the conference rooms weren't normally available to you or any of the boys for that matter.

"Nice of you to join us," Jungkook smirked at you - standing at the front of the conference room getting ready to show their boss their work. PD smiled at you as you bowed to him before sitting down on a chair next to Namjoon.

"You finished it without me?" You whispered looking at him, he was avoiding looking at you but he nodded watching Jimin and Jungkook as they explained what their song was about and began playing it. It was a great song and something that they were used to writing about,

"Namjoon." PD said pointing at you both, you both got up and began explaining the meanings behind it all.

"We decided to go for a heartbreak song, Y/n did the main vocals and I added a rap in for a verse." The music began to play and instantly you felt insecure, the night you'd spent recording came rushing back to you as you poured every emotion you felt for Namjoon into each lyric.

"I think it's clear who the winner is," Bang PD said as he looked over at Jimin and Jungkook who were now crying together, he slid a box of tissues over to them and turned to look at you.

"I can see I made a big mistake hiring you though Miss Y/l/n." Your heart fell out of your chest hitting the floor and smashing into a million pieces,

"I should have signed you, your voice is incredible." Namjoon held onto you as you stumbled backwards a little bit.

"We will be talking soon, I have another meeting." You nodded and watched as he walked out of the room as if he hadn't just proposed hiring you to be one of his employees instead of someone that worked behind the scenes.

"Y/n! That's incredible news!" Namjoon screamed you jumped up and down turning around and throwing your arms around him wanting to celebrate.

"Namjoon-ah!" You giggled pulling away from him slowly but you locked eyes. After that it was like there was no one else in the room with you, Jimin and Jungkook weren't sitting there staring at you anymore you were just looking at one another.

"What?" Namjoon asked as you turned your head to the side, he frowned wondering what you were doing. His heart was racing having you this close to his face but he wasn't about to push you away.

"I love you too." You whispered before smashing your lips against his. His eyes widened as he heard you say the four words he'd been dying to hear but as soon as he came to reality his eyes fluttered shut. Wrapping his arms around your waist he drew you closer to him wanting to keep this kiss going for as long as possible, he was too afraid he would wake up and it would have all bee some kind of ultra-realistic dream he was having about it.

"We...We're just going to leave." Jimin cleared his throat but neither of you heard him and Jungkook getting up and leaving the room together, you were too busy getting lost in your own worlds to bother with them.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lynnthevirgo @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya

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cloudywriter · 3 years

Text

i never got to say i love you - 3

honestly no idea how this actually worked out but i did find it in me to pick it up where i had left off. i’ll keep working on this story and see where it goes but i think i have a few ideas. it’s not very long but it’s a start ya know. it looks nice right now too but don’t worry the angst will be there soon. xoxo

masterlist, main masterlist, AO3

~~~

From that fateful night on, Feyre spent all of her free time in the art building’s studio not even returning to her dorm until long after dark. Quite frankly, she was a little embarrassed. She showed up outside of Mor’s door fully prepared to ask her to please quiet down only to be reminded of how ridiculously dressed she was and then to top it all off after that all she did was stare at Rhysand until she ran off stuttering like a fool which was so unlike her.

She had a close call one afternoon in the dining hall but was able to make a speedy escape.

Of course, the one time she decided she should work and study somewhere that wasn’t the art studio she ended up in the library. It had been fine until they strutted in, strolling down the center of the library as if it it was a catwalk. A group of girls next to her looked up at them, giggling and blushing, and quickly averted their gazes when Cassian shot them a swift wink.

Feyre just kept her head down, trying to concentrate on the book of art history in front of her but just knowing he was in the same room as her, that she was in his vicinity had her mind unable to comprehend anything but that fact. Should she just stand up and leave? Would that draw more attention to herself?

She quickly deduced she could not wiggle her way out of this one.

Feyre propped up her textbook in hopes it would shield most of her face while she finished up the chapter and then she promised herself she could make her leave.

The scraping of a chair across the tile floor informed her she was not going to be so lucky. She zoned in on the words in front of her, she was not going to look up.

“Art history,” a voice read aloud.

Feyre looked up and arched an eyebrow at the man in front of her. “Congrats, you can read.”

“Are you an art major?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I could be or maybe I just enjoy a little art history. What are you majoring in making obvious observations?”

“Is that a new major? Because I’ll admit I’d love to take it up,” Cassian commented, crossing his arms and tucking his fist underneath his chin.

Feyre didn’t deign to respond instead she leaned further back in her chair once again focusing on the textbook.

That was until the remaining members of the trio wandered up to Feyre’s table as well.

Cassian turned around a little and gestured to Feyre, “Hey guys, I’m just hanging with my girl, Fey. You know, the one who came to yell at us last week and then drooled over Rhys.”

Feyre slammed her book flat on the table, “I did not drool!”

Cassian shrugged, “I don’t know I think I had to whip up a few drops after you left.”

Feyre just knew her bright red face betrayed her.

Rhys only laughed, a deep, sultry laugh that sounded the way expensive velvet felt. “It’s alright Feyre, darling, I’m used to it obviously.”

“Oh, don’t call me darling,” Feyre sighed, burying her face in her hands. Rhysand only smirked in response, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk.

Azriel and Cassian were hunched over, studying something on Cassian’s phone while Feyre desperately tried to pretend they weren’t there. Rhys kept on drumming his fingers, completely disrupting Feyre, to be fair she was dyslexic and she required quiet in order to sit and read.

Feyre reached out her hand, holding a pencil, and wacked Rhysand’s fingers. “Stop it!” She whisper-yelled at him.

“Feyre, darling, you wound me,” he purred, leaning back to slip his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. On almost anyone else Feyre would’ve thought the leather jacket looked stupid but it just worked on Rhysand.

Rhysand was quiet for a moment when he spoke back up, “What does one do with an art degree?”

Feyre lifted her eyes from the page in front of her, “Gods, you sound like my sister.”

Rhys cracked a smile at that, “I don’t mean it in a negative way, of course, just curious.”

“I just want to spend the rest of my life doing something I love and I happen to love painting. I know it's not the standard but I wouldn’t be happy in a 9 to 5 desk job,” Feyre explained.

Rhys nodded, he looked as though that statement had resonated with him.

At that moment both Cassian and Azriel stood up, “Hey, Rhys, Mor is texting us that she wants to meet at Rita’s for lunch. You coming?”

Feyre glanced up, making direct eye contact with Rhys, “No,” he says in a husky voice, still looking into her eyes, “I think I’ll stay.” Feyre concentrates on her book again, a small, secret smile poised on her lips. Cassian and Azriel make their exit with knowing glances passed between them.

Cassian and Azriel had only been gone for around five minutes, Feyre was trying her hardest to appear unruffled by Rhysand’s presence, her eyes glued to her book though they weren’t reading a thing. Rhys then broke the silence, “Are you hungry?”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, “Are you?”

“Famished.”

“Strange, pretty sure I saw you turn down an invite to lunch a few minutes ago,” she replied simply.

“I go to lunch everyday with Az, Mor, and Cas, but I don’t go to lunch with you, Feyre, darling. I thought I might switch it up.”

Feyre gave him her best unimpressed expression even though her heart was pumping in her chest. “You’re a shameless flirt.”

“Well, what do you say?”

Despite Feyre finding Rhysand annoyingly attractive she was hesitant to accept his invitation. She had just transferred schools, she was in the market for some friends, but the haunting memory of her failed relationship crept in like a spider knitting a web of doubt.

Feyre banished that spider, “Fine.”

+++

Rhys had taken Feyre to a cute little coffee shop that served the best sandwiches in Prythian as Rhysand had claimed. Feyre didn’t have any room to disagree. Their conversation came easy, it felt natural, not stiff like the beginning of most budding friendships. They argued, joked, and even poked fun at each other the entire time.

Rhysand continued with his brazen, flirty attitude and persistent usage of the endearment ‘darling’ much to Feyre’s dismay. It was irritating but charming, it just seemed to be wholly Rhys.

Now, Rhys and Feyre were walking side by side back towards the dorm buildings. The conversation proceeded to flow easily. When they were about to enter the courtyard adjoining the separate dorm buildings, Rhys flopped onto a bench just a little ways off the sideway. Feyre raised her eyebrow at him.

“Sit, darling. All this walking after eating and I’ll get a cramp,” he reasoned.

Feyre rolled her eyes, it certainly wasn’t that but she entertained him. She took a spot a little bit down the bench from him and leaned her head back, staring up at the tree overhead and the afternoon sun beaming through its leaves.

A question popped into Feyre’s mind and she pivoted towards Rhys, “What are you majoring in?”

Rhys’s beautiful face turned into a grimace as he turned his attention from the same tree back to her.

“Business,” he finally supplied.

“You seem disappointed by that,” Feyre commented. Rhysand looked away as his head bobbed in a noncommittal yes.

“I wanted to major in English, really. I love books, stories, even poetry as mind boggling as it may be sometimes,” Rhys let out a small chuckle, mostly to himself. “I love language too, the way you can manipulate and articulate it, it’s remarkable. I would be more than content to pour over books the rest of my life or share my passion for stories and language with others.”

“Then why do business?” Feyre knew she was probably prying but her curious nature always got the best of her.

“My father,” Rhys admitted. “He’s a businessman you know, convinced it's always the way to go whether you truly enjoy it or not. Doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you have a stable job and are making good money in his eyes. Not to mention, he demands I work with him at his company after school. I lost the will to fight him on it, just easier to appease him at this point. Books will still be there.”

Feyre let the words hang in the air between them. She knew, of course, the feeling of being unsupported but still her family hadn’t forced her hand. Feyre reached out, resting her hand lightly over Rhysand’s in silent support while still giving him the option to pull away.

He didn’t. He wrapped her small hand in his own and turned his head toward her.

The wind tousled his black hair back and forth with each turn of its direction. In the sun’s light his eyes were bright, framed by thick lashes. Feyre wished she could freeze time and pull out her paints to capture the image. The overwhelming desire to do so took Feyre by surprise. Since leaving for Velaris that deep yearning to paint a particular scene, a moment of inspiration so strong it paralyzed her, hadn’t been prominent. Truly, it hadn’t been there for a while. She usually had to force out a drawing or painting for an assignment.

Then Rhys gave her a gentle smile, it looked how Feyre imagined touching clouds would feel. It brought a funny feeling to her stomach.

“Do what makes you happy, Rhys, always,” she added so quietly she thought her words might’ve been blown away by the breeze before they even reached his ears.

Yet, Rhys squeezed her hand the smallest bit.

~~~

well this is for you @maybekindasortaace

let me know if you wanted to be added to my feysand taglist or my rowaelin taglist or both, ya know

#feysand au #feyre x rhysand #feyre and rhysand #feysand fanfic #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar au #acotar #rhysand #cassian #azriel #morrigan #feysand #feysand fluff #feyre x rhys #i never got to say i love you

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Girl Group | Pepper Potts, Laura Barton, Wanda Maximoff, & Sharon Carter

Hi y'all— I was going to work on other things and then I saw this post from @imaginearyparties and got inspired to write about these women having a support group of sorts. I hope you enjoy this heal piece— I spent too long today writing it LOL

Synopsis: The story of four not so unlikely friends and how their girl group saves them.

Characters: Pepper Potts Stark, Laura Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Sharon Carter

Tags: Angst, mentions of death, funerals, toxic men, alcohol, girl friends, positive female relationships, Laura Barton being a mama bear, Pepper and Wanda and Sharon losing their shit

Word count: 3.2k

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

It starts as an accident— it starts at a funeral. Three funerals, actually; Tony would have wanted to share his with the Widow and the Robot, after all.

Pepper Stark, Sharon Carter, Wanda Maximoff, and Laura Barton stand in a broken line in front of the water, all suspended with the same overarching, mixed feelings of dread and peace. For four women who look strikingly different from one another— especially Laura as she stands shadowed under Pepper’s goddess frame— they all do look quite indistinguishable. Maybe that’s just the black, though— maybe mourning blurs individuals into masses.

“I don’t think I can do it.” Pepper doesn’t cry when she admits her fears— she doesn’t have any tears left. “I don’t think I can raise her on my own.”

Laura, who’s been holding her hand for the better part of three days, squeezes it gently. “You aren’t alone, Pep. You’ll never be alone. You’ll always have a home with me.”

Laura and Pepper may be vastly different— an off the grid, stay at home mom and a business tycoon CEO— but the brunette means every word; she has since Tony introduced Pepper all those years ago.

Pepper nods. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“She’s something special,” Sharon pipes in from the other end of the line, her shoulder brushing a silent Wanda. “I could never.”

Sharon doesn’t know either of them as well as they know each other but still she stands by their sides, her own black dress just as itchy as theirs— sisters now branded together in the inevitabile uncomfort that comes with loss. She can’t stay long— she knows that— but Wanda had called her out of the blue, somehow, sounding more lost than ever, and the blonde has never been one to turn down a girl in a spiral.

Or, in this case, three.

Laura laughs lightly, sounding just as tired as she looks, and Wanda rubs her arm absentmindedly, her own voice a whisper compared to the other, stronger women. “I think I would have wanted children. Vis and I spoke about it a few times. Thinking about it now, though, it seems silly.”

Barely twenty-six and basically a widow herself, Wanda can’t feel her fingers shake as she tightens the cardigan around her shoulders. Sharon notices and acts— she’s good at that— taking her fingers and wrapping them in her own.

“It’s not silly— you would be a great mother.” She then projects her voice back to Pepper. “And you’re already a great mom, Pepper. You have a great kid.”

She’s not very good at comforting people but she has to try. Neither of the women comment back, but that’s okay. Sharon isn’t really expecting them to.

Instead, Wanda rests her head on the blonde’s shoulder. “When do you have to leave again?”

Sharon sighs— both from the way Wanda tries to hide her disappointment and from her own disappointment that’s bubbling in her throat. Because she is— disappointed— in the world and in some of the men in their lives. How Sharon Carter always manages to surround herself with men who can save the world but can’t find a spare moment to save her, she doesn’t know, but she can’t find it in herself to feel guilty over her anger.

“Tomorrow, probably.” She says bitterly. “You’re okay with me crashing one more night on your couch, right?”

Wanda could scoff— in fact, she does— Sharon should already know the answer. “I’d be okay if you crashed the rest of your life on my couch. I’d be okay if you all did.”

There’s more silence— it’s becoming a staple in their renegade band of misfit moms and runaway fugitives— and in that silence they unknowingly take a collective step closer together. Mourning gravitating towards mourning, women gravitating towards each other— Pepper throwing her arm around Laura’s shoulders and managing to give Wanda an I hear you scratch.

Laura— soft, sweet, tired Laura— is the one who breaks the silence—

“I have two bottles of Moscatto?”

— and for the first time in three days, Wanda laughs.

“I have a bottle of Stolichnaya— and every season of Bewitched.”

It progresses into a semi-regular thing after that— branching from funerals (and the sleepovers that follow them) into more casual, running-from-the-law type gatherings.

Wanda and Sharon stand once more in black, only this time they aren’t mourning— they’re getting ready for a party and standing around a shiny macbook air.

“What’s this function you two are going to again?” Laura’s voice— still tired but this time in a significantly less existential way— crackles through the speaker.

Her video, which is taking up half the screen, displays that of a full grown woman in a pink and darker pink striped onesie and a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. In the background, just visible enough to read, her stovetop flashes 5:46. Similarly, on the other side of the screen, Pepper’s messy knot of red hair— and her significantly more adult pyjamas— are illuminated by the glow of her alarm clock. 6:46.

“It’s just an art show—” Sharon answers, smiling into the camera for a quick moment before going back to righting the studs in her ears— “You know you didn’t have to wake up so early. You should both be getting as much sleep as possible— I hear being a mom is tough work.”

Both Laura and Pepper share a laugh at that and Wanda smiles too, not missing the tinge of you’re crazy for having kids in Sharon’s voice.

Laura takes a sip from her mug, humming her agreement. “It is but you know I wouldn’t miss our calls for the world. Besides, Clint is worse. The lug woke me up at five on his way out the door to check the frost damage. Husbands are more work.”

For a moment no one says anything and none of them can tell if it’s because everyone’s in their own little world of coffee and clothing or if it’s to give the two red heads a moment to clear their throats.

“Don’t I know it.” Pepper sighs.

Laura’s eyes, even through the screen, flash with sympathy but she doesn’t retract her statement or apologize. She knows she doesn’t need to— that’s not how their little group works. There’s no use in apologizing for things you can’t fix— especially not to Pepper.

Instead, Wanda turns to her sister-in-hair and asks her outright: “How are you holding up?”

Directness is always the best approach— it always garners an honest answer.

“I feel like shit.” Pepper laughs. “Half the time I can’t sleep and the other half I can’t drag myself out of bed. If it weren’t for Morgan I don’t know what I’d do. Rot, probably.”

Wanda huffs, turning so that Sharon can zip her silk dress. It’s significantly more comfortable than the one she had worn half a year ago. Bless Sharon Carter and her affinity for designer clothing.

“Can we consider Sharon my child then? Because without her I’m pretty sure I’d be in the same boat. Making sure she doesn’t burn down the apartment when she makes dinner is the only thing keeping me going.”

“Hey!” Wanda receives a light whap for the comment but it’s landed lovingly— after all, Sharon knows she can’t cook.

“You ladies are eating enough, right? And properly?” Laura chimes in, ever the mother in a group of moms.

Sharon and Wanda share a look that has Laura groaning from her dark kitchen table— not even time zones can stop her from worrying about the youngest members. She stands quickly to refill her mug and, as she does, hears the giggled response of—

“Does red wine and leftover burgers count?”

Laura doesn’t think it can get worse until Pepper chimes in. “I see we’re all on the same diet then.”

For a moment Wanda and Sharon disappear, most likely to look through Sharon’s collection of jewelry, and in their absence Laura and Pepper share a short, but very much needed, conversation.

“You’re still off work right now, right?” Laura asks, resting her heavy head in her hand.

Pepper nods once, rooting around the top of her side table for the damn remote— it’s like Tony’s still here, misplacing all her things. “Yeah— I don’t know when I’m going to go back. It’s just— it’s too soon, you know? I don’t know if I can. I don’t— god where’s the fucking remote! I could have sworn—”

Laura cuts Pepper off as her voice begins to turn frenzied— begins to crack. “I think you and Morgan should come stay with me for a little while. Like, for a few weeks. I think it would be good for you.” She watches Pepper cringe and before she can object, adds— “and for me. Clint’s been working a lot recently. I could really use some good company.”

Laura may be the simplest woman in the group but by no means does that make her the slowest— she knows the only way to get Pepper to agree to her idea is to play to her own motherly instincts.

As she’s expecting— it works. “Are you absolutely sure we wouldn’t be putting you and Clint out in any way?”

Laura can hear the exasperated relief starting to drip into her friend’s voice and has to swallow the lump in her own throat. “Of course it wouldn’t be— you’d never be putting me out, Pep.”

Pep. She hasn’t heard that in a while. She misses it— she misses a lot of things. A lot of people. The Bartons being some of them. It’s why she caves.

“Okay.”

Just as Laura nods— and finishes the last of her second coffee— the two fugitives that have been absent come ambling back, now dripping in flashy gemstones and expensive watches. Time has passed, enough that the girls have to scramble for the finishing touches of their outfits— something which can be heard when Sharon asks Wanda where she left the lipgloss.

“It’s already in my bag— your lips are glossed to perfection, stop worrying.” The red head fluffs her mane quickly before turning to the screen with a slight pout on her lips. “I can’t believe we just started the call and now we have to hang up. I hate time zones.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Pepper coos, “you both look incredible.”

“Edible.” Laura chimes in, giggling. “Go enjoy yourselves.”

The girls echo each other’s thank you, dallying with their goodbye’s but reiterating their I’ll call you later’s.

As an afterthought, right before Sharon can hit the power button on her macbook, Laura also adds— “Make sure to drink water!”

In no time semi-regular becomes regular and soon they all have a favourite hangout spot. Unfortunately, none of their favourite spots coincide with the others.

“You know—” Laura groans as she plunks down in her seat at the high up table— “I still don’t know what a gastropub is?”

“Tough—” Pepper rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her diet coke and tutting at her friend. “We all know you would rather be at the Starbucks down the road but some of us need more than coffee to run, Mrs. Barton.”

She’s decided to lay off the rosé for a little while and, in a show of solidarity, so has everyone else. Laura hmphs into the ginger ale that had already been waiting for her on the table but can’t keep the grin from turning up her lips— after all, Pepper’s right; she does want coffee. Wanda swirls her own cherry coke, giggling at their antics. Secretly she’s thinking the same thing but it was Pepper’s choice this time and she’ll eat just about anything.

“It’s a fancy word for comfort food—” Sharon snorts, actually answering, her eyes glued to the menu between her and Wanda as they decide which appetizer they want to share— “an easy way to cheat you out of twenty-six bucks for mac n’ cheese… Hey, look at these— buffalo cauliflower bites— you wanna’ try them?”

The red head nods enthusiastically. “You know I’ll take any chance to pretend to be healthy.”

The blonde laughs, shaking her head. “You’re literally perfect, Wan— all those fancy spells have to be burning, like, what? A thousand calories an hour?” Sharon turns her eyes to the other women who’re already listening with knowing grins. “You should’ve seen the men in Madripoor— and the women! Falling all over her— it was incredible!”

“Oh says you.” Wanda giggles back, catching the other red haired woman’s attention.

Pepper reaches across the table, swatting Sharon’s hand gently and whining. “You didn’t tell me about any men! Now I feel left out.”

“Don’t—” Sharon assures her, sobering suddenly at the topic change— “there are no men. I’m done with them— they’re more trouble than they’re worth. Even the ones you think are good.”

Especially those ones, she wants to add but keeps it to herself. Everyone here already knows how she feels anyway, mostly towards a certain golden-boy super-soldier. She lost everything for him— her home, her job, years she could have spent with her family— and for what? Just so he could turn around and literally fight time itself to be with her great aunt? To think, some women get a man who will invent time travel to be with them and she had to all but beg a man to clear her name for aiding a super hero.

Yeah— she’s still bitter, even after Sam worked his Captain America card to get her off the bureau’s watch list. It sure is funny how the literal Winter Soldier got his pardon before she got hers but— hey— that’s misogyny for you. She chases the acid in her mouth with a sip of orange soda. Fuck men.

“You know you can talk about it.” Laura reminds her gently, setting her own menu down— she doesn’t really need to look at it, she orders the same thing everytime.

“What’s there to talk about? I risked my life for him and he screwed me over. I get it— he’s more of a hero than I’ll ever be— but I guess I was kind of figuring I would get saved with, you know, the rest of the world. Sue me, I guess.”

Wanda slips her fingers between Sharon’s, nodding along. “I think some people forget that he—” she avoids saying Steve’s name; it’s for the best— “was as human as the rest of us. That he could be just as selfish as the rest of us.”

“And that they can get tired, too.” Pepper adds, her mind on Tony— her mind is always on Tony.

“And that they’re just like us— even if they think they’re not allowed to be.” Always the mother, Laura frowns at Wanda because, although she’s also thinking of her husband, the ginger needs to hear it as well.

“Whatever.” Sharon grumbles as she spots their waiter approaching, her mind shifting from her fallout with America’s golden-boy to the twenty-six dollar mac n’ cheese she’s going to obliterate. “I think I hate men. I’m happy just being with you.”

As has become custom, she receives three reactions: an awe from Laura, a me too from Pepper, and a kiss to her cheek from Wanda. It’s in that moment that she knows she isn’t lying— she really is content with her small group of girls.

They even— eventually— go on vacation together.

Four girls— two gingers, one blonde, and a brunette— lounge around a deliciously quiet poolside, soaking in as much of the Grecian sunshine as they can. One of them— the youngest— soaks in a little too much. Thankfully her friends are keeping a closer eye on her than she is.

“Wanda, you’re going pink. C’mere honey.” Laura sits up on her deck chair, patting the spot next to her. “Let’s touch your sunscreen up.”

Wanda— warm with sleep and sun— doesn’t put up a fuss, slipping in front of the brunette and pulling her hair into a sloppy bun to save it from the zinc cream. She sighs into Laura’s touch, her eyes closing as the woman works her thumbs into her shoulders. Laura Barton gives quite possibly the best back rubs on the planet. Well, besides Vision— his were better.

Wanda doesn’t realize that she’s balled her hands into fists until Laura’s soft voice breaks past her barrier. “What’s on your mind, sunshine?”

Sighing, the witch answers her friend honestly. “I miss him. Vis, I mean. It’s not fair. It’s just—”

“It’s not fair.” Laura finishes for her, hearing the crack in her facade and pushing— sometimes you just need a little bit of a gentle push. “It’s not and you don’t have to pretend like it is.”

Okay— maybe it’s not as gentle as she thinks it is.

“I hate it!” Wanda snaps, her tiny hands balling once more and pounding against her thighs. “I feel like I’m dying all the time— I feel like I died when he did! And no matter what I do now I screw it up! I hate it, Laura— I hate everything!”

The small witch’s furious rage quickly fizzles into heart wrenching sobs and Laura— just as quickly— plasters herself to Wanda’s back the same way she had done with the sun cream. She trembles in Laura’s hold— a mini storm in a cage of limbs and hair— and Laura just pets her head because this has been due for too long.

“I know, sunshine— we’re alone now, though. You can cry it out. No one’s going to hold it against you.”

“I— I hate— I—” Wanda can’t even finish her sentence— she hasn’t been able to for a year now.

Soft hands land on her knees and she cracks an eye open to a more composed— but still crying— Pepper. “I hate it too, hun. I hate everything.”

Pepper’s skin— unlike Wanda’s— has gone a golden brown in the sun, her freckles emerging one by one over the week which Wanda gets a closer view of when Pepper wraps her arms around her. She smells like strawberry daiquiris and salt and Wanda cries harder, clinging to the woman who is stronger than she ever will be.

A cold, wet hand lands on the back of her neck— the cold, wet hand of Sharon Carter— and with it comes one more— “I fucking hate everything.”

And, for some reason unknown to her, Wanda laughs.

She can’t help it— life sucks. Death sucks. Men and calories and loss suck. But her friends? No, they don’t suck. Not even when they’re with her at three-in-one funerals— not even when they’re half a world away. Especially not when they’re in Greece, holding her while she cries and laughs like a complete and utter maniac.

No— their little girl group doesn’t suck at all.

“I hope you all know how much I love you.” Wanda laughs around a particularly raucous sob— “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Laura is the one who answers— the universe wouldn’t be right if she wasn’t— “We know it, honey.”

The universe also wouldn’t be right if it wasn’t Pepper who gets the last word.

“Is anyone else feeling some pizza right about now?”

#Pepper Potts #Pepper Stark #Sharon Carter #Laura Barton #Wanda Maximoff #The Scarlet Witch #Scarlet Witch #Pepper Potts fic #Wanda Maximoff fic #Sharon Carter fic #Laura Barton fic #mcu #marvel cinematic univers #marvel #marvel fic

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nsheetee · 4 years

Note

Can you plz do a part 3 of idol! jisung x idol! reader💚💜

Prologue || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Final

summary: you don’t notice that jisung gave you some hickies from the night before until after you’ve already gone out in public. once your fans get ahold of the pictures of your hickies, speculations arise about who gave them to you.

details: some swearing, mentions of stray kids

you and jisung fell asleep

it was probably a bit stupid of you considering the heavy situation you’re in

but when you two laid down together, his steady breathing and warm embrace knocked you right out

you woke up by a knock on your door, one of your members peaking their head into your room

“jisung? wake up, it’s time to go.” the door shut after that, silence filling the room

you roll over and check your phone

4:29am

“seriously? you have to leave at 4 in the morning?” you groan, sleepily sitting up with jisung at your side

he hasn’t opened his eyes yet, just licking his dry lips and running a hand through his bed hair

despite your annoyance, you smile at the scene and lean in to peck his cheek, in your sleepy haze you miss and land on his jaw

jisung snorts lightly, opens his eyes, and looks at you, loving every out-of-place hair and lazy flutter of your eyelashes

“I don’t want to leave.” his words are a bit too heavy for 4am, and it sobers you both up

“I don’t want you to leave.” neither of you know when you’ll see each other next, or under what pretenses

you both unwillingly get out of bed and walk to the front door, there waits jeno and renjun

“c’mon jisung, we need to sneak you back into our dorm before 5. you own us a meal for getting up at the ass crack of dawn to come get you.” renjun throws a mask and a black hat at jisung, which he catches and puts on

jisung turns to you one last time and takes your hand in his, squeezing it a bit

“everything will be okay. we’ll make it work.”

and with that, the three guys leave and your dorm is blanketed with silence

you lock the door after them, and then look at your hand that jisung just held

he slid a squarely folded piece of paper into your palm during that quick touch, and you unfold it to read jisung’s scratchy handwriting

“saturday night, 11pm. park next to the the place we had our first date.”

the little piece of paper only brings more questions

you just spent the night with him, why didn’t he just tell you to meet there? why did he have to skillfully slide the information into your palm?

and why did he want to see you saturday night, and so late in the evening, too?

your curiosity rises even more when you realize that your group next comeback happens just a few days before

what is your boyfriend planning?

you sluggishly walk back to your room, putting the piece of paper into your bedside table and dropping into your bed face first

you land in the spot where jisung slept in and bury your face even deeper into the covers, hugging a pillow

it’s not the same as actually cuddling with your boyfriend, but it works for now

wishing that jisung, jeno, and renjun got back to their dorm safely, you doze off and once again fall into a deep sleep

it only seems like a few minutes passed when you’re woken up again

this time around, there’s a harsh banging on your door, much louder than the knocking that woke you up earlier

“what is it?” you groan loudly, hugging your pillow tighter to your chest

“you better not still be asleep. we have choreo rehearsal in 20 minutes.”

you shoot up in a sitting position, looking at your clock to conform that you indeed have choreo in 20 minutes

the drive to the studio is 10 minutes

on a good day

you run your hand over your face and force yourself to get up, a throbbing in your knee telling you to put on some ice later since your bruise is still fussy

you don’t think too much, just do everything in your power to make yourself ready for rehearsal in 10 minutes and then run out the door with the rest of your group’s members

and since this day just keeps getting better and better, you’re greeted by several fans and news reporters at the entrance of the studio, no doubt wanting to catch sight of you or your members right before your next comeback

although you love your fans and wouldn’t be in your position without them, their presence at the moment makes you emotionally tired, not prepared to deal with this so early in the morning

you make the walk from the car to inside the studio, which should’ve only taken a few seconds but instead took a few minutes, and quickly forget about what’s happening outside

you focus on practice, on making yourself better, and on honing your craft

during break time, you’re laying down on your back with the random hoodie you picked up this morning over your head, taking deep breathes and nursing your knee

“y/n, get up” you hear mia, your leader, say from above you

cracking open an eye, you look up and see her with one hand on her hip and the other holding her phone

after you sit up, mia pulls off your hood and gasps as she looks at you

“geez, I know I don’t look that great right now but you don’t have to make that face...” you grumble at her overreaction and she rolls her eyes

“no, dummy, your bruises are all over the internet. how can you not cover them up?”

“it’s just a knee bruise, what’s so special about it?” you look down at your leg

“not that one,” mia groans, pointing to her neck, “those.”

you turn around to face the mirror on the wall and gasp, making the same face mia had given you just a few seconds ago

“oh, no.”

under the lighting of the studio, you can see the patches of dark spots that cover the sides of your neck

you try to recall how they got there

a blur of what you and jisung did last night runs through your mind and you faintly remember him kissing your neck

but you didn’t think he would leave such dark hickies from just a few kisses

you and jisung must’ve underestimated just how strong he is

nevertheless, embarressment rises in you

you really just want to go home now, maybe sleep the rest of the day, or week, away

“wow, look at our little y/n,” dani, the oldest member of your group grins and sits down behind you on the cold wood floor, hugging you from the back, “so grown up.”

“please,” you try to push her away, “I'm so stupid. I need to be more careful.”

from the paparazzi catching you and jisung kissing on the street several weeks ago and to now, with hickies all over your neck, you must be the most careless idol in the whole industry

“hey, don’t say that.” sooyeon, who is the visual of your group, says and slides closer to where you and dani are sitting on the floor

“your boyfriend gave you those. sure, it might seem embarrassing to have such a personal thing be known to the public, but c’mon, you guys are dating... what does everyone think you two do in your free time? hold hands under the table and kiss each other’s cheeks?”

“she’s right.” dani mumbles, “no need for shame. you and jisung did nothing wrong.”

your members’ words make you feel better, until kara, the only foreign member of your group, speaks up

“well, actually,” all of the attention turns to her as she looks up nervously from her phone

“what?”

“people don’t think jisung gave you those.”

you and the other three members all tilt your heads simultaneously

“they think i.n. from stray kids did.”

the comment alone almost gives you whiplash, and you rise to your feet and walk over to kara, looking at her phone

an article is pulled up on the screen, and right on the top of the page is a picture of you from this morning, hickies and all, and next to that is a picture of i.n. from what you assume is also this morning, some hickies on his neck as well

it seems that by some strange coincidence, you’ve been wrongly accused of dating stray kids’ i.n.

“okay, I'll admit to sneaking jisung up to y/n’s room last night, but which one of you rats snuck i.n. up there, too?” mia asks and sooyeon throws a plastic water bottle at her feet at her lame excuse of a joke

“what is this?” you ask to no one in particular, reading the words “dating scandal” fly across the comments section of the article multiple times

“if you think about it, the company never made an official statement about you and jisung, and you two were out of the public eye for a while.” dani thinks out loud, leaning back on her hands

“and it is pretty strange to see two idols with hickies on their necks in the same morning. when does that ever happen?” mia adds on

“but I've never even met him before! this doesn’t make any sense.”

“y/n,” kara tangles her hand in yours to reassure you, her next words speaking truth and stunning everyone into silence, “the tabloids don’t care about that. they only care about the story, and for anyone other than us, it’s very easy to manipulate a few small details to spread a whole fake story.”

you can’t help but slowly sink down to the ground, your thoughts starting to consume you

what will happen to your career now?

will this ruin your groups comeback?

and the question that’s in front of all the others:

how is jisung going to react to this?

271 notes · View notes

catherine-parr-1512 · 3 years

Text

SixVengers - The Beginning (Fic 1) Chapter 6

@kenneth.mark.82 Mark Keeneth

Who would have thought that London might be destroyed tomorrow lol

13 replies 20 retweets 2031 likes

@spider_woman_fan_club Spider-Woman Fan Club

England is about to get destroyed and all I can think of is Spider-Woman flying today through London, looking good as always :/

303 replies 1025 retweets 70K likes

@superheronewsuk Super Hero News UK Official

BREAKING NEWS:

The City of London and surrounding areas are evacuated due to the upcoming Alien invasion that will hit London. The Prime Minister will release an official statement at 7 p.m. about the situation but unofficial sources claim that British heroes were asked to defend London.

20K replies 32K retweets 801K likes

Katherine closed Twitter and looked outside the window. She was in a car with Agent Blount and Anna on their way towards Parr Tower. It was decided after the meeting, and once everyone had cooled down, that the best thing for the team was to stay the night together and the best place for it would be Parr Industries Headquarters in central London. This meant that if by some chance, the attacks started earlier, the group of heroes would be able to get there faster than if they were travelling from their homes, most of them being on the edges of the city.

To pass time through travelling through central London, she was on her phone like any normal teenager would be and she was surprised that people didn't freak out that much. Kat knew that, that would change when the attack would take place.

After travelling for 30 minutes through busy streets of London, the cars containing the heroes and three agents *kidnappers* thought Katherine, finally arrived at Parr Tower, where they would spend the night getting to know the other members of the team and getting ready to fight Henry.

The three of them left the car and met up with Parr, Boleyn and Lee who arrived just a minute before. The group were joined by Aragon, Seymour and Salinas after a short while, the trio arriving last. The nine women made their way inside the tower and Katherine was impressed, to say the least. Whoever designed the building had taste. It was modern and white with blue accents. Very tasteful and minimalistic.

Kat could see many people walking around, minding their own or company businesses, nobody paying attention to the large group of women that had just entered. One of the security guards approached Parr and whispered something to which she nodded and led them towards a large elevator on the left side of the entrance, bypassing the security. It was fortunately large enough to fit all of them comfortably. The door closed but nobody clicked any buttons.

“BRIAN? Please take us to floor 80.” Said Catherine and everyone looked around, not seeing who this Brian was. However, all of them jumped when she got a reply.

“Of course Miss Parr, right away. I will also put the light on and adjust the temperature.” Said the robotic voice from inside the elevator and quickly started moving upwards.

“I presume it was some sort of computer?” Asked Anne awkwardly, not knowing what to say about the whole situation. “But that’s just my observation.”

“Actually, it’s an AI, fully functional and capable of thinking for himself,” Parr said with a small, proud smile. “I named him after my uncle who took care of my brother and I after our parents died.”

“That’s sentimental.” Smiled Seymour and the whole elevator went back to a (somehow) comfortable silence until the elevator stopped with a ping.

The door opened to show a large living room. It had a see-through wall on the opposite side of the elevator. Along that wall was a row of white, comfortable-looking couches and chairs. The walls were painted a light sky blue and grey, giving the whole room a calming look.

“Whoa, this looks nice, Parr. What a nice room to greet your guests. It’s very… you.” Joked Anne, jumping on the nearest couch, and putting her legs on the coffee table.

“I think it’s just parrfect.” Said Seymour and everyone looked towards her weirdly. “Sorry, I was trying to make a pun.” She chuckled to herself.

“I heard that you were a comedian but I don’t understand how anyone would laugh at that.” Replied Anne, earning a chuckle from both Katherine and Anna. However she also received a stern look from 3 Agents in the room - Salinas, Aragon and Lee - and a sad puppy look from Seymour. Parr and Blount just shook their heads.

“If most of you stopped behaving like children, I would like to point out that it’s my living room that most of my guests never see so be grateful,” Catherine said before anyone could say anything else. “This is one of my 3 personal floors so please don’t wreck it too much. I still want to spend time in my living room without it being destroyed… again.”

“What do you mean again? Did a group of women with some sort of abilities destroy it before?” Asked Bessie, sitting down on a nearby couch next to Anna and Katherine.

“Nope. It was BRIAN and me. Well, I mean he was in one of the suits and I was in another. We had a mock fight in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep which definitely wasn’t my greatest idea. We ripped a huge hole in the ceiling.”

“Now I want to see you do it again if I’m being honest.” Said Anne.

“I’ll bring popcorn for the entertainment.” Added Anna and the two of them high fived each other in the air from a distance.

“I think we should pick someone to be your leader for the mission. While Director Meutas will be controlling the whole operation from the TOWER along with many agents, there will have to be one of you making sure that everything out there on the field is going okay. It will be just the six of you. Military and a few agents will help you but they will mostly have to make sure that any civilians in the city will be safe.” Stated Salinas as an unofficial leader of Agents (other than Aragon)

The heroes looked between each other, silently debating the choice.

“Well, I am underage so I’m out” Said Katherine with a smug smile.

“I have anger issues that count me out as a reliable leader.” Added Anne, smirking slightly.

“Don’t look at me, I can barely look after myself to make sure that I don’t accidentally die. No positions of power for me, hey!” Laughed Anna, getting comfortable on her couch.

The remaining three women looked around, each looking at the other two women in silence.

“I think each one of us would be a good leader…” Said Jane, looking at Aragon and Parr, meeting their eyes. “However, as the oldest person here, I think I have the most experience in this type of job. Let us also not forget that I was and still am a Captain in British Army.”

“Sorry? You were frozen in ice for 70 years. I think that means you still are as young as you were back then, Seymour. I, on the other hand, am an agent in a secret government agency who knows how London works and I know this city.” Countered Aragon jumping towards Seymour, looking straight into her eyes.

“Really? Everything you do is being told to you. I led men into a battle and we won. You don’t have that experience, Aragon.”

“Unless you haven’t noticed, I’m not sure if being in the freezer for so long damaged your vision, but we are not men. We are women and we need someone who can lead us. You are not that so just step down and let me do it.”

“I don’t think so. I am not letting you do it. I won’t let some random woman lead this team and possibly cause us to lose.”

“YOU LITTLE-” Started Aragon, grabbing Seymour by her suit before they suddenly found themselves on opposite sides of the room, thrown against the walls.

The room was silent as they looked at what happened only to see Parr standing where they were before, wearing her Iron Woman gauntlets in each hand, with a hard look on her face.

“Both of you behave worse than 5-year-olds, we are supposed to be bonding and yet you squabble over something we don’t even need! I thought you would be better but if that’s how it will be, personally I think it’s better if we all decide on the field what we are doing, no leaders. I think we are all mature enough to make sure that it won’t be a problem.”

“Or maybe you want to become a leader?” Asked Jane, stepping towards Parr, the tension getting heavier in the room.

“Yeah. It seems like you want to be the one to lead us.” Added Aragon, tilting her head at the other woman. “Look at me, I am Catherine Parr and I say what is the best for everyone!” She added in a high pitched voice, trying to imitate Parr.

“I have to agree with you on that one, Spy, but don’t think that it makes us friends,” Seymour grumbled and moved closer towards the centre of the room.

The other agents didn’t know what to do with the newfound tension but fortunately, the other 3 heroes knew that they had to do something before 3 women killed each other.

“I REALLY THINK COFFEE WOULD BE NICE RIGHT ABOUT NOW!” Mused Anne, very loudly, making it seem like she was talking to herself. Parr, Aragon and Seymour stopped looking at each other, Boleyn now being the centre of their attention.

“Uhm, yeah… Right… I have a kitchen right there. I’ll make everyone coffee or tea.” Catherine said and quickly disappeared from the room towards where she said the kitchen was and the tension in the living room quickly disappeared.

Seymour and Aragon sat on the couches as far as possible from each other and the room was silent now, the only noise heard was breathing and some fans working.

“I think I will go help Parr with all of those cups. I also have this difficult coffee order. I don’t drink it any other way.” Anna quickly fled the room, leaving Anne and Katherine looking as if she was an evil witch who had killed their dog and laughed about it at the end of a song. The others didn’t seem to pay her any attention.

“Hello,” She said as she entered the kitchen, seeing Parr standing with 9 cups and 2 pots, probably with either coffee or tea inside them. “Wanted to see if you needed any help, Cathy Parr.”

“Cathy? Really?” Asked the other woman with a small smile on her face.

“Well, I decided everyone needs a nickname. When I say Katherine or Catherine it sounds the same. Or Catherine and Katherine. And then we have Catalina. Honestly, how many women can have similar names? This is like 33% of this group!”

“Don’t forget Anna and Anne. Those two are very similar.”

“I know, right? Stupid green imposter, I’m the superior Anne/Anna.”

“Fortunately for everyone we only have one Jane, Elizabeth, Maria or Margaret. I think that Lee is called Margaret but don’t take my word on that.” Joked Cathy, snorting lightly.

“I am also not sure about that one. I just call her “Mean Agent” in my head. Honestly, all the time I look at her, it looks as if she was getting ready for some kind of war. I mean, I know that we might be having a battle for humanity tomorrow but honestly, smile a little. Jeez, is that a lot to ask?” The woman dressed in red acted dramatically, clenching her hand across her chest as if she was being hurt.

“Do you have any other nicknames? For the others?” Asked Parr, filling one of the pots with hot water and turning her head to look at the other woman.

“I mean, yes. So we have Catalina as Lina. I think that’s actually a word for rope in Polish and to be honest, I would not be surprised if she had a rope hidden somewhere in that uniform of hers. Anne is Anne or Shrek.” At that, Catherine burst out laughing. “HEY! Don’t laugh. Just imagine her saying ‘What are you doing in my swamp?!’” Said Anna in a deep voice, trying to imitate Shrek. "And you will understand where I am getting this from. Jane is Cap or just Jane. Might buy her a cap after all of this is done. Then we will have Cap on Cap. If we buy two and she stands on one of them, we will have a cap sandwich. Little Howard is Kat because she reminds me of a cat but we put K at the start. And by we, I mean me and maybe you in the future. You, Catherine Parr, are of course Cathy. Lee we already talked about, Blount is Bessie and Salinas is Marrrrrrrrria. Remember, the more you roll the r's, the better the effect.”

Catherine Parr chuckled at the last comment, thinking what Salinas would think about it.

“You’ve known us for a few hours and you already came up with those? It’s pretty impressive.”

“It is not impressive. I was just bored.” Replied Anna, smirking. “So what are we having here?” She pointed at the pots, now filled to the brim with hot liquids.

“One of them has coffee, normal black. The other has tea, Earl Grey. I have milk in the mini-fridge in the living room so anyone can add it if needed by themselves.”

“Can I have hot chocolate? I am not a huge fan of coffee.”

“Yeah sure, I’ll make it for you right now. You know, like the good host I am haha.”

"Thanks." The two stood in silence, waiting for the drink to be made in a fancy machine Cathy had. Anna, however, was bored and wanted to start a conversation again. "You know, I am not sure what happened there in the living room. With Seymour and Aragon."

Cathy sighed "I don't know either. I get it that we should have someone to lead us on the field but… but I haven't thought that those two would make an issue out of it. They were just so…. Different, I guess, from what we saw in T.O.W.E.R. HQ."

"Maybe they are hormonal? Or need some sleep? Or coffee?"

"If they need coffee, we better head there quickly before I will have to use my repulsors on them again." Cathy pointed towards her two gauntlets that were now in the form of bracelets around her wrists.

"That's what they’re called? Cool." With that, the two women grabbed everything, Cathy with the two pots of tea and coffee while Anna used her powers to take all the empty cups and her hot chocolate.

"Your powers. They are rather impressive. I never saw anything like that."

"Not you nor C.O.U.R.T.. When I got them, a few years ago, nobody knew what I could do but with time I learned. They come pretty handy when I only have 2 hands and 10 things to hold." Said Anna using her powers to juggle the cups, earning a soft smile from Cathy.

The two women entered the living room again to be met with an uncomfortable silence. All of the women were sitting on their phones but it seemed like Anne and Kat were playing something together and didn’t really notice their two teammates entering.

“Hello! We have drinks.” Announced Anna, making everyone turn their heads towards her.

The two women put everything on the coffee table next to them and everyone made their way towards, eager to drink something warm while Cathy brought milk and sugar for anyone needing them. However, a problem arose when Katherine poured herself coffee.

“You will not be drinking that, young lady.” Said Jane, taking the cup from the teenager's hands. Kat just looks at her with a betrayed look. “You are a kid, you cannot drink that. Drink tea instead. It will be healthier for you.”

“I don’t like tea.” Kat stubbornly replied, not liking what the other woman was doing but knowing better than to fight with a super-soldier.

“She can have my hot chocolate if she wants. I’ll get coffee.” Cut in Anna, before Jane could say anything and wanting to stop any new conflict from happening… again.

“I’m okay with hot chocolate. Thanks.” Mumbled the teenager, sitting on a couch with her new drink, Anna sitting on the opposite end with a nice cup of steaming coffee.

When Jane turned around, pleased with herself, Anna used her powers to swap two cups and winking at Kat, making the young woman smile at her new friend. When they turned around, they could see Anne, Cathy and Bessie covering their smiling faces with their selected mugs as they drank their chosen beverages..

“Um, Miss Parr?” Asked Kat after their quick tea/coffee/hot chocolate break. “Do you have any sewing supplies here? Preferably a needle and some red and blue thread?”

“Why are you asking? Do you need it for something?”

The girl sighed and reached towards her backpack. From there she removed something. It was her Spider-Woman costume.

“It was destroyed in a few places today while I was patrolling. I was meaning to do something about it when I got home but I’m here instead.” The teenager said with a small chuckle and turned to look at Parr.

Cathy looked as if she was hit by a bus.

“This… is your suit?” She asked, pointing towards the fabric.

“Yeah. Made it myself. Bought all the fabric, sewn it together and all that.”

“...”

“Is Parr okay?” Asked Anne when she saw that Cathy.exe stopped working. Anna just shrugged and waited for the situation to continue.

“Am I OKAY?! OF COURSE, I AM NOT! I DON’T CARE WHAT ALL OF YOU THINK BUT I AM NOT LETTING A TEENAGER GO OUT THERE TOMORROW IN A SUIT MADE OF COTTON!” Screamed Cathy.

“It’s actually polyester” Replied Katherine but stopped when Parr looked at her with murder in her eyes.

“Is polyester that good? Wouldn’t she sweat a lot in it?” Whispered Anna to Anne and the other woman just nodded, questioning the life choices of the youngest member of the team.

“Howard, you are going with me now and I do not care what you think about it.” Ordered Catherine, dragging the younger woman with her.

“Please don’t kill me! I’m too young and pretty to die!”

“You won’t be dying kid, we are going to be making you a suit. And be we, I mean you give me a design and what you need, I choose the materials and other stuff while BRIAN will make it happen. Okay?” Asked Cathy as the two of them left the room, leaving the others to themselves. A minute later Cathy came back. “Oh, and if any of you want to rest, straight ahead there are guest rooms. Just pick one. If you need me, ask BRIAN and he will lead you to me.” She said and disappeared again, not staying to hear what the other women had to say.

Anna and Anne laughed at that, Bessie shook her head, Lee and Salinas started talking quietly with each other whilst Aragon quietly sipped her tea. Only Jane looked towards the corridor where Cathy had just left, her blue and grey eyes flashing yellow for a moment before she blinked and the unusual colour disappeared.

#six the musical #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #katherine howard #catherine parr #six the musical fanfiction

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what-the--curtains · 4 years

Text

Alliance

Chapter 5 – The Outsiders

(Mando x f!reader)

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Summary: A new lead brings you to a new planet where you search for any trace of the child. Unable to locate him the two of you stop in at a Cantina and when a fight brings the two of you to a hotel new information comes to light, and not just about the childs whereabouts

Notes:Happy new year! Hope your all treating yourself and others with kindness! As always thank you for the likes and shares❤️❤️

TW:swearing, drinking, mentions of drug use/abuse

Tagged: @crazycookiecrumbles

Word count: 6.3K

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Nar Shaddaa, Hutt Space, S-12

Exiting the ship you take in your new surroundings. The city was highly technological; filled with high speed trains, sky scrapers, constant noise and the richest and poorest members of the galaxy. It was a true Ecumenopolis and there’s no mistaking that you’re out of your element in it.

“You’re right.” You remark, causing Din to look over to you “I do hate it.”

“Here” he says, handing you a set of knives to go with the blaster he’d previously gifted you. “Bow and arrow would stand out and it’s best we blend in.” You take them, concealing the blades in the sleeves of your cloak.

“Anya, stay close” you whisper, pulling up the hood so as to shield the majority of your face from any passersby. The likelihood of you being recognized was exponentially higher than it had been during previous visits and anonymity was something that needed to be taken seriously here. Anya sniffs at the polluted air, miraculously picking up the child's scent in minutes.

The two of you pursue her with heads down, maneuvering through the crowded sidewalk lining the busy highway where speeders rip up and down the tarmac towards their destinations. She leads you off the main road and down a side street backlit by the various neon hues radiating off the signs attached to the strip of cantinas and clubs. Anya sits down and you and the Mandalorian exchange a look of confusion.

“There's no way the kid’s in a strip club,” he states.

“Ya I figured,” you snap back, the unintended harshness catching you off guard, “the water must have washed off some of the scent”

“What does that mean for our plans?” he queries.

“It means they just got more difficult.” You reach out through the force hoping the child may have caused a ripple in it recently, you can feel he’s one the planet, but there’s nothing to suggest his whereabouts. The situation wasn't being helped by the intermittent noise coming from the groups of intoxicated people moving between bars. You let out a groan of frustration causing a few nearby garbage cans to rattle and fall over subsequently startling a couple who were making out near them.

“C’mon, let’s find a cantina, cool off, maybe someone’s seen the scavengers that ambushed the base.” he offers, not wanting any more attention drawn to the two of you.

“Best idea you’ve ever had Mando.” You say, slapping him on the shoulder as he escorts you into one of the many cantinas lining the streets of the city.

The club was packed full of creatures from all across the galaxy. You’d seen places like this before, having even been inside them on more than one occasion. Sometimes clients wanted to take the gladiators out to show them off as a demonstration of power and wealth. The clubs were usually loud with dark corners, expensive drinks, illicit drugs and company you could pay for.

This place was no exception and honestly you’re surprised the Mandalorian had set foot in the cantina, you thought this would have quantified a den of sin to him and his creed. You push through the crowded dance floor taking a booth in a far corner in an attempt to disappear into the background. This task was helped by the dim lighting, loud music and general drunkenness of the patrons.

“What do you want?” you ask, pulling your hood down, feeling confident no one would recognize you.

“I don’t drink in public,” he explains taking a seat.

“And I don’t drink alone” you state, staring down at him.

“When was the last time you had to drink alone?” he asks. If it wasn't for everything you knew about his personality you would have thought that was some kind of line. Unfortunately, you must have been speaking too loud as your statement had drawn the attention of a nearby Balosar.

“Well I can make sure that doesn’t happen” the Balosar slurs clumsily placing a hand on your hip and moving his groin too close to your ass for your, or Dins liking.

“I wasn’t talking to you leave” you state calmly, and the man releases you walking off as if nothing happened, before the Mandalorian could even formulate his next move.

“Here’s the deal, I'll drink if you tell me about that trick of yours” he offers, watching the Balosar disappear back into the crowd.

“Deal” you say, turning to the bar. You make your way over through the mass of what we’re likely criminals or the ultra-rich, though oftentimes they fall hand in hand. This club didn’t smell like the lowbrow places you’d been to early on in your career, no it had that perfumed soaked scent of a millionaires mansion trying to masquerade the smell of fraud and blood that built it.

“Hey can I get two retsas, one with a long straw” you shout over the synthetic music blaring throughout the club to the Togruta bartender. You rest your elbows on the counter leaning forward, biting gently on your thumb as you turn your head, gazing over the crowd to where the Mandalorian was sat, absentmindedly stroking Anya’s head.

“Here ya are love” the bartender says, you turn back around to face her smiling as you hand her the credits and take the drinks back to the table.

“What’s this?” Din asks, picking up the straw slightly.

“Straw.” You say as if it’s obvious, taking a sip of your own beverage as you pull back into the booth “you can stick it up under your helmet. Then no one has to see your face”

“So how do you do that.” He asks referring to your ability to seemingly send people away.

“Do what?” you ask innocently, causing him to push the drink away,

“Fine.” you say, and he pulls it back towards him “the truth is I don’t really know how it works. Just does”

“Like magic” he states, maneuvering the straw under the helmet.

“Not a witch” you return, watching some of the liquid drain from his glass.

“The kid can heal can you?”

“No, I never learnt, I think only certain Jedis can. My specialities lie elsewhere.”

“Like the mind tricks.”

“Amongst other things but mind tricks are the simplest. Heads are easily influenced afterall.”

“Jedis'' he laughs audibly. It was the first time you’d heard him do so and you were taken aback by how pleasant it was. Sometimes it was easy to forget a human being was underneath all the metal.

“Why are you laughing? They exist.” you say smiling, still caught up in his laugh.

“I know I’ve met three now. I just think it’s funny that the kid is more qualified than you” He jokes. Your mouth opens, somehow feeling both admired and insulted by the man sat across from you.

“Say aren’t you a Mandalorian” a passerby interrupts

“No he’s not.” You say, sending him on his way with a flick of your wrist.

“You have to teach me how to do that.”

“You just have to put your mind between a state of complete serenity and complete control. Once you tap in, it’s easy enough to use, but you have to keep at it, it’s a skill and it's remarkably easy to lose.” You say gesturing for him to continue drinking. “Well that and a genetic predisposition for force-sensitivity.”

“Oh seems very easy,” he says.

“Well if it’s easy enough for a child to do.” You return.

“Did you use it to get the upper hand on me when we first met?”

“Maybe.” you respond finishing the last of your drink, only just noticing how lightheaded you were. It has been a while since you’d had a proper drink, but even so being this much of a lightweight wasn’t something you wanted the Mandalorian to know about.

“But you don’t use it all the time?” he prompts.

“No, not always safe. That why I was kept on Vryssa. Guess the empire, or ex-empire or whatever the hell they’re calling themselves these days, were hunting down any remaining Jedi” you explain, lightly tapping your fingernails along the empty glass.

“Can you choke people?” he asks, causing you your eyebrows to raise involuntarily.

“Only if they buy me dinner first,” you quip, watching as he finishes the last of his drink evidently not bothered by what you had just said “ but yes, I try not too unless absolutely necessary.”

“The kid tried it on Cara once.” he says laughing for the second time that evening.

“Fuck,” you snort, partially coughing up your drink “what’d she do?”

“She was beating me in an arm wrestling match.” he chuckles, more so at the sound you had just emitted than anything else.

“So you also need a kid to help you win an arm wrestling match?” you tease.

“Don’t start with me, I’d snap your arm like a twig if we went at it.” Did he know how what he was saying sounded? If so, what was he hoping to achieve by it? He’s about to ask another question when you put a finger up “More drinks” you say scooting out of the seat and making your way back over to the bar.

“Back so soon?” the bartender asks

“Drinking’s a specialty of mine” you say with a smile “Same as before please”

“Of course” she wipes her hands on a towel before heading back to make the order. You rock back and forth on your heels until she returns, but not with the drinks.

“If you’re looking for something stronger” she offers, pulling out a packet of what you recognize as spice. You’d done your fair share of it in the early days of the arenas. Trainers used it to control their more unruly fighters, and you found yourself falling under that classification more often than not. It had also come in handy when you had to deal with some of the less pleasing clients who were paying for your services. After you made it to the big times you were weaned off it by San who couldn’t have you overdosing and losing him money. Your hand reaches out for it but you stop yourself, knowing if you took it the Mandalorian would find out and you’d lose his trust. Something which you hadn’t realized mattered so much to you.

“I’m good for now, thanks though” she nods putting it back and returning with your drinks “If you change your mind, names Ynre come find me” you smile grabbing the drinks and moving back through the crowd. Sitting down you decide it's your turn to ask a question.

“How did you know I was a tracker?” you slide the drink towards him and he catches it with ease.

“ A bartender told me you’d helped him find his daughter, I thought you were isolated from the rest of the world.”

“Living has its cost even if you're off the grid” you begin “we needed credits as well, we offered our services to find those who had been taken, most of the time, all memory would be removed before they returned to the real world.”

“Why did you let him remember.”

“Somethings need to remembered, so they don’t happen again” you say, absentmindedly moving your index finger around the rim of the glass

“What’s it like.” He asks “Being one with the galaxy.”

“Pretty uneventful until you showed up in my life.” you say pointing a finger at him as you take another swig.

“Well I can’t imagine anything much happening on Vryssa. Is there anything on that planet except for mud and trees.”

“Some people like the mud and trees, it’s the poverty that stops most people from staying long. Mining isn’t the industry it once was.”

“So that��s what the planet is known for fuel?”

“That and the most hangings during the war, tall trees make for excellent gallows.” Having finished another round of drinks you go to stand up again, hoping when you went back you wouldn’t be offered the spice again. You weren’t sure you’d be able to deny it a second time.

“I’ll get the next ones'' he says standing up. You sit back down, breathing out a sigh of relief as you watch him walk over to the bar. As he reaches the counter you watch him order placing his hand on the bar turning to talk to a Twi’lek, Arkanian and human who had appeared around him. You take note of the body language, it’s plain to see what their intentions were.

Whether it was for the armour or something else you weren’t sure, but there was no denying the Mandalorian had something about him that made him undeniably attractive, even if his face was hidden. He allows a few of them to trace their hands over his armor, the helmet disabling you from gauging what he was thinking. As you watch the scene unfold you smile to yourself finding it somewhat amusing, but at the same time you feel a knot form in your stomach. You brush it off as you see him returning back to your table.

“Armour kinks really a thing then?” you ask nodding your head to the women who were still staring at him from the bar, as he hands you a drink.

“You have no idea,” he says,sitting back down. So he was experienced, you hadn’t been sure what his creed had said about sex. Your mind drifts back to the cave, causing you to wonder what else was going on under that armour. It was hard to say you wouldn’t if the opportunity presented itself, not that it ever would, most days you were unsure if he was even indifferent towards you and vice versa.

“Any more questions” you ask, freeing yourself from your thoughts, which you chalked up to the alcohol, not enough sleep and too much time alone.

“Are you sleeping?” you're taken aback by this question, why had he asked that. Noticing your concern he continues “When you fall asleep in front of me it’s hard not to notice the night terrors. You ask for me in your sleep. Do you know that? ” You did, but the nightmares were none of his business.

“Well if it’s your name I’m saying it really must be a nightmare, either way I couldn't tell you about them if I wanted to” you lie, hoping your smile would snuff out any suspicions.

“Are they about the fighting rings?” he asks, a sense of guilt hanging in the air.

“No, those stopped a few weeks in” You mumure, refusing to make eye contact with the helmet. He’s about to press for more information when a group of Zabrak walk in. You hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten and trouble usually starts after 1am.

“We should leave, gangsters and you’re too drunk to be of any use.”

“Shut up” you say, downing the last of your drink and cocking your head as if you had just proven some kind of point before pulling your hood back up. As you stand your foot gets caught in your cloak and you stumble. With one strong arm he stops you yet again from plummeting forward, catching your waist just in time.

“I’m not drunk, I just tripped!” you exclaim, trying and failing at hiding a smile as you stare up at him. If it wasn’t for the helmet you’d have seen the grin that had been plastered on Dins face for most of the evening as well. The two of you are almost out the door when you feel someone pull your hood down. The culprit, a tall, handsome man, has moved in front of you, blocking your exit.

“The huntress, you got out,” he exclaims moving towards you causing you to take a step back.

“You have the wrong person” you lie, trying to move past him but he steps in front of you again.

“I wouldn’t forget you, not after what we did,” he looks from you up to the Mandalorian “She’s worth every penny you spent Mando, the best,”

“She says she doesn’t know you. Now move.” Din interjects, succinctly cutting him off. You try again to move towards the door but once again the man steps in front of you.

“C’mon for old times’ sake.” He goes to pull you into him. Tiring of the interaction you drop down one of the knives with an aim of shanking him. Before you can, you hear the distinct sound of metal against skin as Dins fist connects with the man's face, knocking him out.

“Let’s go” he says, pulling your hood back up and ushering you quickly out the door, having now gained the attention of the group at the bar.

“Someone’s following us” you whisper, as Anya begins to emit a low growl. “bounty hunters. Five of them, I can take two if you get the rest.” Without looking at each other the two of you turn, in sync, to face your stalkers.

“Quite a bounty on you two.” One shouts, spitting out chew onto the street, “between the underground, the empire and the gladiators you’re the galaxy’s most wanted duo.”

“Walk away. While, you still can.” the modulated voice says as Din moves his cloak back, revealing the blaster at his side.

“Five versus a drunk Mandalorian and a girl. I like our odds. You don’t mind sharing do you Mando, we like to try the merchandise before we” The lead Zabrak drops to the ground before he can finish his sentence. One of your knives embedded deep in his throat you maintain eye contact with the other four Zabrak as their leader sputters out the last of his breaths. They draw their weapons and an array of blaster shots sound throughout the alleyway until only two of you remain standing,

“You okay?” The Mandalorian asks, giving you a once over.

“Ya, but you’re not.” You say gesturing to the knife currently lodged deep in his side. He reaches up to pull it out.

“Don’t,” you exclaim, grabbing his hand in yours, causing him to look down at you. You quickly release it, worried you may have just crossed a personal boundary. “ It needs to be removed carefully, it’s close to a vein. If you take it out you could bleed to death before we can patch it up.” you explain quickly. “C’mon there’s got to be a place around here somewhere.” The good news was there was a hotel in sight as you turned the corner, but the bad news was that it was upscale. Security would be increased and the knife currently embedded in the Mandalorian would stick out like a sore thumb.

Noting Din’s slowing pace, and aware of the knife's close proximity to a vein and how more movement could dislodge it, you opt to head into the hotel. You enter through the high reaching, stained glass doors depicting what appeared to be a ball of sorts. You sit the Mandalorian down in an armchair near one of the romanesque pillars lining the foyer, hoping to obscure him from the front desk.

Leaving Anya with him you make your way towards the desk, fortunately, due to the late hour late the lobby was essentially vacated. You look up, making eye contact with the concierge as you do, you pull down your hood hoping it would make you appear less threatening. You realize your error when you see a look of panic plastered on his face, likely caused by the flecks of blood marking your hands, neck and face. You see his hand reach for the phone. You make it to him as he's dialing, placing a finger on the hook switch ending the call before it starts.

“Please, we were ambushed on our way back from town, I’m here on a trip for my father. He's an ambassador, the Mandalorian is my bodyguard. We need a room, we can pay any price.” You plead apparently convincingly enough for him to place the phone back down on its receiver as he begins the process of checking you in.

“Seperate rooms I assume.” He says inputting the information

“No ones fine” you say. Noticing the look of judgment coming from the concierge, you continue “He doesn't sleep.”

“Don’t worry, everything here is kept very secret even from your father.”

“No... we… we’re not..” you decide to quit while you're ahead. He ends up offering you a cheaper rate for the room, you being an ambassador's relative and all.

“Thank you” you say sincerely as he hands you the key.

“How’d you manage that?” Din asks upon your arrival

“What can I say I’m an impressive negotiator” Helping him slowly to the elevator, looking back to the concierge offering him a look of thanks once again.

“You sure are.” he says as the elevator doors close, reopening again on the 21st floor.

“Not bad,” you murmur, taking in the room as you sit him down on the king size bed. “I’m going to get some medical supplies, don’t take that knife out until I’m back, and try not to die.” you say, tossing him one of two room cards before exiting the room, descending in the elevator to the main floor and exiting back into the street with Anya at your side.

The two of you dart through the alleys the street lamps illuminate the puddles forming on the pavement beneath your feet. You turn into the first pharmacy with an open sign and begin gathering the necessary supplies from its shelves. One of the benefits of being on a planet run by crime lords was the availability of cheap, illegal and oftentimes more efficient medicines. You’re reaching for a bottle of Shesharile Vodka to use as an antiseptic when you feel something watching you. You turn just in time to see a black cloak disappear into the adjacent aisle.

You follow it over to the next aisle but it moves just out of your view. You carry on into the next aisle, then the next, following the shadow frantically until you reach the cashier who gives you a side eye suggesting to you that there was definitely no one else in the store. You pay for the supplies and make your way back out into the rain which hits against your hood lightly. The soft padding helped to drown out the sense of foreboding that had been with you since you left the hotel. A nearby rib cat runs into a garbage can, making you jump. Startled, you look behind you, but there’s no one there. You shake your head, what was going on with you. It must just be the drink, or the lack of sleep.

You continue to tell yourself it’s just your imagination even when you hear your name whispered into your ear as you re-enter the hotel. Making a bee-line for the elevator you manically press the close door button, the elevator opens once you reach your floor and you swipe the key card. You rip the door open at the sound of the beep, briskly closing it behind you, chest heaving. Your panic worsens when you look to the bed and notice the Mandalorian was not where you had left him. Your eyes scan the room uncontrollably until you hear a faint buzzing coming from the bathroom. You swing the door open and look down to the floor where you see Din sitting. The knife lays next to him as he works at cauterizing his abdomen's broken skin back together. You bend over slapping his hand hard enough for it to retreat away from the wound.

“I said to leave the knife in.” You chastise stepping over him and squatting down to get a better angle of the gash.

“It’s fine, I've done this a hundred times,” he says nonchalantly, once again picking up the pen. After a few minutes of playing tug-of-war you manage to wrangle the cauterizer out of his hand taking it with you as you make your way back to supplies you’d bought. You pull the vodka and return to his side pulling the cork out with your teeth before applying a small amount of it to a towel.

“This might sting” you say as you wipe it against the lesion with gentle strokes. As you do he remains stoic, there’s not even a flinch. A notable sign of someone who was used to being in pain.

“I” he says, but you cut him off, preventing him from making a case for cauterization.

“Shut it, it could get infected, we have no idea where that knife has been. Plus stitches heal better than burns.” You state matter-of-factly, fetching the needle and thread from the supply bag.

Mandos POV

He can’t stop looking at your face as you stitch him back up, you were focused, but there was no sign of stress. You were calm, relaxed as if it was a second nature to you, something that was to be done absentmindedly. You must have done this before, maybe in the early days of fighting. Low brow gladiatorial battles were often messy and crude, you must have had your fair share of wounds when you were just starting off. His mind wanders to the comment you made about burnt wounds healing poorly. Had you seen the many that covered his body that night in the cave? Did you think he was hideous? Why did he care so much, seemingly all of a sudden?

“There. All done” you say, biting the string and applying some bacta to the now closed skin. As you stand up he notices a dark stain glistening through the back of your shirt.

“Wait,” he says quickly, trying to get your attention.

“What?” you ask, turning to face him still wiping his blood off your hands. He’s shocked you hadn’t noticed, based on the amount of blood the laceration was deep.

“You’re bleeding” he says, watching as you casually turn to look at your back.

“Come here” he says, taking another step towards you, concerned you don’t seem bothered by the news that you were bleeding profusely.

“I’m fine, it’s just a reopened old wound. I’ve had worse in the arena.” You say. Every time you brought up the arena, a twinge of guilt came over him. He wouldn’t let any harm come to you again, not while you were with him.

“Stop being stubborn.” He says. He’s about to grab you and force you down, but he rethinks his approach. Instead he places a leathered hand gently on your shoulder, turning you to face him.

“Let me help. Please.” This does the trick and he looks away as you remove your shirt which was now soaked through with blood. As you make your way over to the bed he sees the large open wound going up your back, it was red, swollen and bleeding. He puts some towels down on the bed and you lay down on your stomach. Upon closer inspection he notices the markings going up your spine. They were still prominent even amongst the healed over scars. His hand hover over the ancient scripture which matched up with those on your arms and face.

“Is it bad?” you ask, pulling him out of his trance and stopping him from tracing his fingers over your skin.

“Yes, it’s reopened a few times by the looks of it, did this ever heal?”

“Don’t know can’t reach back there” you mutter.

“It’s infected, it needs to be cleaned, and closed, it’s not deep but it’s too wide for stitches so it’ll have to be cauterized.”

“Just leave it. It’ll heal” you say pushing yourself up onto your elbows. He places a firm hand on your shoulder stopping you from fully extending upwards.

“Or it won’t and you’ll die and I’ll be back to square one.” He says, hoping it's enough to convince you to let him help you. He sighs a breath of relief when you lower yourself back down onto the towels. He positions himself over you, pouring some of the opened vodka into the lesion to cleanse it, noticing your back arch slightly as it does. He takes off one of his gloves, offering it to you.

“Bite down on this”

“This some kind of thing for you.” you ask, taking it from him.

“Or don’t cauterizing isn’t a walk in the park.” he says watching as you reluctantly place it in your mouth before turning your head back to face out the window overlooking the city below. Apparently it was a thing for him, but he shakes his head of any kind of desire in order to focus on the task at hand.

“This will hurt.”

Your POV

You feel the flame hit your skin, but you refuse to flinch, not wanting to appear weak in front of the Mandalorian. You remain still as he cauterizes your skin back together as the smell of burnt flesh fills the air around you. You find yourself wondering how high his tolerance for pain was, if he could essentially melt his skin back together without so much as a twinge. You found yourself exceedingly grateful for the leather which was likely stopping any noises being emitting unwillingly. He closes it up and you feel his hand go to your neck.

“I’m not dead” you say unmoving, your body was still in shock.

“You hadn’t moved in a while, I just wanted to make sure.” He says reaching for the salve,

“Leave it we may need it later.” You protest, but he ignores you, putting it over the wound, evidently not in the mood to argue with you. After a while you stand up and make your way to the mirror to check out his handiwork, not too shabby you think.

“Well now you’re not going to bleed out, you should get some rest” you say, throwing him his glove back before picking up your shirt and rinsing it out in the sink. You lay it out to dry over the radiator in the bathroom.

“You rest i'll take first watch” he says

“Seriously” you say emerging from the doorway “you lost a lot of blood.”

“I won’t be able to rest until the kid’s found.”

“No use to it if you're half asleep, off your game and get shot down one parsec in.” you retort. With that he accepts defeat and gets on top of the bed spreading out his legs and placing his hands behind his head. Careful not to disrupt Anya who was curled up on the bed's corner. You pour yourself a glass of the leftover vodka, swirling it around as you gaze out the window of the 21st floor. The city lights illuminate the sky as if it was daytime, you couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to live in such a place.

You gaze over to the Mandalorian, was he really asleep? He looked like he was, you’d never seen him splayed out like this before. Must be the only comfortable way of sleeping in all that clunky armour. You still couldn't wrap your head around how he kept it on all the time. Staring back out the window you imagine what life will be like once you’ve gotten the child back and you're free to lead a calmer life. After a few hours you hear the rustle of bed sheets. Turning your head you watch as the Mandalorian maneuvers off the bed with ease.

“Batteries recharged?” you joke, finishing the last of the vodka.

“I'm not an android” he replies, not having caught that it had been a joke. You make your way to the bed and get under the covers which were still warm from where he had been sitting a few moments ago. You rest your head back onto the pillows and shift to your side pulling the covers over your head to block out the lights of the city.

“What are you doing?” he ask

“I’m trying to get it dark enough to sleep.”

“I can close the curtains”

“And you'd just sit in a chair in the dark like some kind of weirdo?” he doesn’t respond after that and you doze off before another conversation can be started.

You wake up with the sun in your eyes, you must have de-cocooned yourself sometime during the night. Shit, you’d slept through the night. Not something you’d usually be upset at but you felt guilty for making Din take the majority of the watch.

“You should have woken me up, I would have taken another watch” you say sitting up in the bed and stretching your arms up to the sky, the tightness of the closed wound pulling slightly as you do.

“It seemed like a restful sleep. I figured you needed it.” You hop out of the bed and go to the bathroom pulling your blood stained shirt back on, muttering out a gross. The heat from the radiator had crusted the residue into the fabric.

“I’m gonna go get some towels from the front desk do you need anything” you ask scratching Anya’s ears and grabbing a room key. He shakes his helmet no.

You make your way to the desk, taking note of the assortment of well-dressed creatures moving throughout the lobby in the light of day. They stare as you pass through the lobby either disgusted by your bloodied appearance or suspicious of your intent.

“Must be a bounty hunter. I wonder if she has any idea what’s being auctioned off tonight. Should I ask” You overhear a woman ask as you pass by

“Good morning” a new concierge says.

“Morning, can I get some towels.” You ask, nonchalantly rifling through one of the many pamphlets littering the desk.

“Of course anything else madam?”

“ No, that's all thanks” you say, taking the towels. “actually yes this auction what’s that all about.”

“Oh yes the collector, he's having one tonight. Its location has been kept top secret. It changes each year to add to the excitement.” they explain.

“How would one go about getting an invite?” you implore, placing the towels back down on the counter.

“They usually find you. If you're rich, important or dangerous enough that is.” They say offering you a smile.

“Thanks” you say, formulating a plan the second you start your walk back to the elevator.

“I’m, so sorry” you say bumping into a woman who had been flashing around an invite when you had first entered the lobby. Slipping your hand into her shawl you grab the thin piece of paper pocketing it as she exclaims something along the line of how they're just letting anyone in these days.

As you re-enter the room you hear the shower turning off.

“You shower in that thing” you ask when the door opens.

“Not the towel.” He says “where are the clean ones?” he asks, tossing the bloodied fabric onto the floor.

“Got something better. A lead” you say throwing the invite on the table.

“We won’t get past the door, looking like this” he says. You hold up a finger and dial the front desk putting on the voice of the woman in the lobby.

“Hi it’s Mal Ytha” you say looking at the card, “the dress for tonight should be delivered to room 2108, yes its changed, thank you” you say hanging up the phone.

“How do you know it’ll fit?” he asks.

“She looked about my size.”

“If you’re planning on going in alone to get the kid, think again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, invites got a plus one which means you get to be my bodyguard.” This gets a laugh.

“What” you say, his laugh still taking you by surprise, its sound not quite matching up with the gruff Mandalorian you knew.

“ It’s just a funny thought, you needing a bodyguard.” He says as you open the knock at the door.

“Thank you”, you say, taking the towels and garment that had just been delivered by a member of the hotel staff.

“Shine up your armour princess, the event starts in an hour and its inner city, so we should probably drop our stuff back off at the ship before we head in ” He nods in agreement.

You get back to the ship and drop Anya off with the rest of your stuff, not willing to risk bringing her into another auction room. You change in the cockpit, the bathroom was too small and you didn’t want to devalue the constitution of the dress, afraid it may cause you to stand out. If the rich could spot anything it was someone masquerading as one of them. Fortunately your ability to guess proportions were right and the dress fit almost perfectly. Dins rearranging the armoury as you lower yourself down his helmet doing a double take when you enter into his line of sight.

“Don’t worry I can still run and fight in this thing if needed.” you say, assuming that’s why he had been staring for so long. Little did you know he was staring because he’d never seen something so beautiful in the entire galaxy. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“I’m not worried.” He says clearing his throat, trying to get a hold of himself.

“Good”, you say slipping the knives into the pants concealed beneath your dress.

“Shall we” you say, gesturing to the door in front of you.

#mando x y/n #mando x you #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars #alliance #chapter 5 #two idiots in love #slow burn #din dijarin x reader #din dijarin #din djarin #din dijarin x you

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harrystyleswatermelon-sugar · 4 years

Text

Café

I am late for my shift at the café I work at every Sunday morning. Somehow my alarm didn’t go off as planned and as I jump under the shower, I can feel how time goes by way too fast. I skip breakfast after I did a really quick make-up and blow-dried my hair. Due to no time, I just simply tug everything in a ponytail and jump into my work clothes. Black skinny jeans, Sneaker and a work blouse. As I am ready to leave, I grab my apron and an umbrella, due to the London weather.

Just in time, I arrive at the café and I am very thankful that the tube was on time today. Sometimes I have to wait so long, until it finally arrives and often it is so crowded that I barely fit in. Today I am lucky and as I enter my working place, my colleague grins at me.

“Hey, Y/N. Just in time” he says and I roll my eyes at him. I still have 2 minutes left!

“Hey, Matt. I´ll be right back, just taking my stuff to the back” I say and move in the back. I put my bag down, take my apron and check into the system. Matt is my co-worker, we usually work together. He is permanently employed and I only work Sunday mornings, because I have a normal day job. I am a foreign language correspondent and work for a big company during the week. Because I usually sit in the office, I wanted to find a balance, when I saw that this café was looking for a waitress.

“Here I am, how was your week?” I ask him and kiss his cheek. He smiles at me and nods.

“Pretty good so far and yours? Here take this purse, the other one broke the other day” he suggests as I go through the stuff in the cabinet, looking for the purse. I take it from his hand and fill it with money out of the cash register.

“Nothing special so far, let´s see what happens here today” I laugh and he nods. We always have a great time together and I honestly love this job. We have been working together now for almost three years and over time he became one of my best friends. I look around and only see a few customers sitting on the tables. It is early for a Sunday, so I guess they are all still sleeping. A young man enters the café and I smile at him.

“Hello, welcome,” I say friendly and he returns the smile.

“Good morning, having a good day so far?” he asks and I laugh a little.

“Very good, as it should be. How can I help you?” as I prepare his order, I feel him looking at me. I mean, yes he is cute but I don’t really know what to do. I hate myself sometimes for not being able to flirt properly.

“Here you go, that is £2, please,” I say and hand him his coffee. He gives me £5, winks at me and says his goodbye.

“Have a nice day, see you soon. I´m definitely coming back” he leaves and Matt sighs.

“And there goes another chance for a happy ending. Seriously, Y/N there are so many men hitting on you and no one is good enough for you? He was hot!” my friend says and I clean the barista equipment.

“He was cute, but you know what happened the last time I tried to flirt. He didn’t get it and it was so awkward,” I explain myself and Matt leans next to me on the counter.

“Yes, but that was one guy. What if your mister right walks in right-“ he stops and I wait for him to finish. I am facing the sink and as Matt is not finishing his sentence I turn around. He stares at the door, open mouth and a shocked expression on his face.

I follow his gaze with mine and see a tall man standing in the doorframe. He wears sunglasses, which is a bit odd, because it is a rainy day and looks around the café. He wears a long black coat and a hat. Some dark curls are peaking out of it and it looks as if he has a bit longer hair than usual. He is attractive and I see, why Matt is staring at him.

“Hey, Matt. You okay?” I ask him and wave my hand in front of his face. He shakes his head and looks at me.

“Pinch me. Y/N pinch me! I think Harry Styles just came in,” he says and I poke his side gently.

“Who?” I reply and smile at him, as his eyes widen in shock.

“Who? You´re asking who Harry Styles is? Seriously? Don’t you watch the news or read tabloids?” I shake my head. I really don’t.

“He is a member of the biggest boy band in the world and he is so hot and funny. Oh my god, how do I look?” he asks and tries to bring his hair in order. I laugh and pat his back.

“You look great, fangirl. Go get him, tiger. Wait, is he gay?” I ask and he shrugs his shoulders.

“No one really knows, he never confirmed or denied anything. But he will be gay, when he sees me,” he assures me and winks. I laugh and nod as he walks off. I take the time to actually google this guy and Matt is right, he is hot. He honestly looks a bit like prince Eric from the Disney movie Ariel. I see Matt coming back and take my tray, to ask the other three guests if they want anything else. I see some dirty dishes on the table next to this Harry and take them with me. I order the salt and pepper shaker, our menu and shoot a glance at the man. He took his hat off and his sunglasses are in his hair, as he fuddles on his phone. I clean the table and knock the tray off the table whilst staring. Shit.

I kneel down and grab the shattered glass, as Matt comes to my rescue with a broom.

“Darling, what are you doing. Take your hands away, don’t cut yourself please” he says and I raise my hands, not touching any more glass. He sweeps everything together, putting it in the bin and then looking at me.

“You clumsy girl. Never boring when you´re here” he laughs and I roll my eyes, grabbing the tray and getting up.

The young man is looking at me with piercing green eyes and smiles. I smile back and follow Matt back to the counter. We check my hands and find only a very tiny cut at my thumb. He insists on putting a band-aid on it and I let him do it. He wouldn’t shut up anyways.

The next three hours are unspectacular, we get a few more customers but it is not as packed as on other Sundays. I have time to clean the fridge and the counter properly, while Matt is serving the customers. Every time he goes to Harry's table, he is nervous and ever time afterwards he won´t shut up about his sparkling green eyes and his smile and dimples, which I haven’t even noticed when he smiled at me earlier.

“Matt, I am starting to think that I have a crush on him because you don’t stop talking about him,” I laugh and dry my hands.

“I can´t believe he is here, just look at him. He is art. I need to wee, don’t let him go” he demands and I chuckle, as he throws his apron on the counter. I fill some coffee beans in the machine and look around myself. The customers are all well taken care of but I see Harry looking at me. He raises his hand and I nod, grabbing my purse.

“Hello there,” I say as I approach him. He smirks and leans back in his chair, totally checking me out.

“I would like another coffee, if that’s alright?” he asks very politely and I am surprised. I thought he would be a bit arrogant but despite being very handsome and famous AND rich, he seems pretty normal and grounded.

“Sure, anything else? We have an amazing apple tart with glazed pecan nuts,” I suggest and he smiles. Now I can see those dimples.

“Great, I´ll take that. Thank you very much. I like this place, is it always this empty?” he asks and I scribble his order down.

“Oh usually it is a bit more crowded, today seems to be a lazy Sunday. Wouldn’t have left the house either, if I didn’t have to be here” I say and look at him. His dark brown curls frame his face and I meet his eyes.

“Well, I´m glad you are. Working every Sunday?” I nod and grin at him.

“Yes, usually it´s Matt and I,” I respond and shove my memo back in my pocket. I take a step closer to his table and lean forward, to grab his empty mug. His cologne is phenomenal, he smells so good. I can´t define the nuances but it is definitely something dry. I like it and it is surely expensive like his whole existence.

“Be right back” he nods at me and I bring his dishes behind the counter. Matt stares at me and I turn a light shade of red.

“He is glamorous, isn’t he?” he asks quietly and I giggle as I prepare the coffee.

“He is friendly and very attractive, you are right” I agree with his earlier statement.

“What did he ask?”

“Oh for gods sake, Matt. He is human like everyone else. Would you please stop fangirling? I have to serve a customer, who is not an alien!” I am really annoyed by his behaviour and maybe my voice is a bit too loud. I see Harry turning around and Matt frowns, leaving me alone. I sigh and grab the plate and coffee, putting it on the tray and walk towards Harry.

“Here we go, enjoy,”

“Thank you, is everything alright? You seem a bit upset” he asks and I raise an eyebrow at him, looking over my shoulder to see Matt walking towards another customer.

“He is absolutely in love with you and is just an annoying prick about it. I was a bit harsh on him, but he can be so annoying. You have no idea” I sigh and he grins.

“I get it, you don’t really care who I am and he is the opposite” I shake my head and put my hand on my hip.

“It´s not that I don’t care, I didn’t know you before he explained it to me, so…well yeah you´re just another customer. Which is nothing bad! I love my customers, but I don’t freak out because you are a musician” I explain myself and struggle a bit. I hope I didn’t offend him.

“That’s absolutely fine and I am happy to be seen as someone normal. I will offer him to take a picture with me before I leave…but you have to tell him, I´m not interested in men, very sorry” he winks at me and I laugh uncomfortable.

“I will send him here with your check. Have a good day” I wish to him and leave him alone. I meet Matt behind the counter and he ignores me.

“Look, I am sorry but your fangirling is really annoying. Here, he wants to have the check. It might be your last chance to talk to him, so I waive” he rolls his eyes at me and grabs the little piece of paper, to leave.

“We good?” I ask and he nods.

“Yeah, `m sorry too” we smile at one another and I watch him talk to Harry all flustered. I look at my watch and sigh happily. Only 30 minutes left of my shift.

Matt beams, as he comes back and I wonder what he had told him. Surely not, that he is not gay.

“He said he likes you. You took really good care of him, that’s why we shall share his huge tip” he shows me the tip and my eyes shoot to Harry. He smiles and I look down again. £60. He leaves us the biggest tip I have ever seen.

I mouth a thank you in his direction and he smirks. Right as our shift ends and our co-workers arrive, Harry gets up to leave.

“Have a nice one, see you next week” I say and get ready to leave.

“Y/N, wait a sec,” Matt asks me and I wait for him, as Harry approaches him.

“This young lady here told me, you are a fan of mine. Would you like a picture? I thought I´d ask because the service was great” Harry says and I smile, as he looks at me. Matt nearly faints as he nods and takes out his phone. His hands are shaking and he takes two selfies with Harry. Our co-workers are a bit older and don’t even know who Harry is. I can relate to that.

“Thank you so much, it was a pleasure meeting you. Never thought you are as nice as everybody says. Thank you so much” Matt rambles and I chuckle quietly.

“The pleasure was all mine. I will definitely come back soon” Harry assures and we three walk our way to the door. He pulls it open and lets me step outside in the rain. Luckily I have my umbrella in hand.

“See you soon,” Harry says and puts his head and glasses on, then waves and leaves. Matt is beaming, Harry made his day.

“Do you think he will come back?” he asks and I shrug my shoulders.

“How am I supposed to know?” we laugh and walk in the other direction as Harry.

A week later I am working again with Matt, as we see a familiar man with nearly shoulder-length hair and sunglasses approaching.

“Oh my god, he is back,” Matt whispers as Harry opens the door. He beams at us and I return the smile.

“Hello there, mind if I sit right here?” he asks and points to the counter.

“Good morning, of course not. Take a seat. Coffee?” I ask him and he nods. I make him his coffee and put it in front of him.

“There you go” I smile at him as he grabs the cup and our fingers touch.

“Y/N, 3 Cappuccino, I get the cake,” Matt says and grin to Harry. I prepare everything, heat the milk and foam it. I put the mugs on Matts tray and bump his hip, because he is staring at Harry.

“Thank you, Darling,” he says and leaves Harry and me alone.

“So your name is Y/N? I like it. How was your week?” he asks and I look at him. Is he just trying to make conversation or is he really interested?

“It was okay, had a lot to do at work but it´s okay. How was your week?” I return the question and put some mugs onto the shelf.

“It was great, I have some free time at the moment and I enjoy it very much…I was really looking forward coming here today,” he says and I am surprised. He was? I thought someone like him would have something better to do.

“Well Matt is happy about it, I guess” we both chuckle and he looks down on his phone, sipping some coffee. I work my normal routine, chatting to Harry when I have time and joking with Matt, who is very happy to have Harry here. He is all giggly and cute, he really has a crush on him. I should tell him now before it is too late. I grab Matts arm and pull him with me into the kitchen.

“Listen, I love you but please don’t get your hopes up. He told me he is not gay, I´m so sorry” I say and he smiles.

“I figured that. I don’t think he is here because of me…he is here because of you, Y/N” he replies and I roll my eyes at him.

“Yeah sure. Let´s go” I shrug it off and we get back to work.

When it is time for our colleagues to take over and we are finished with our shift, Harry is still there. Sitting at the counter, joking with Matt and smiling. I take off my apron and get my coffee to sit down next to Harry.

“So…what are you usually up to after your shift?” Harry asks and I look at Matt.

“Normally I get lunch with this lad or we just hang out a bit,” I reply and Matt nods, as he falls down on the chair next to me.

“What about a nice movie and some pizza today? I don’t feel like going into a restaurant,” he suggests. I shrug my shoulders as I say:

“I don’t mind some relaxed time at your home,” he smiles at me and nods to Harry.

“What about you? Wanna join? I feel like we three are friends now,” Matt says and I hide my face in my hands. He is so awkward sometimes. I hear Harry laughing and wish, I could just sink into the floor and never come back.

“Sure, why not. I haven’t planned anything for today, I´d love to join you.” He answers and I look at him very embarrassed.

“You don’t have to. He is just pushing people, like always,” I say and Harry shakes his head.

“No, I really want to” he assures me and I shrug my shoulders. It´s fine with me.

We have a really nice and funny evening all together. We watch some stupid funny movies, until I nearly pass out and walk over to my home, which isn’t far away.

Three weeks later Matt and I are having a terrible hangover from the night before when we were at a concert at the O2. We partied a lot afterwards and had a great time but today I feel like shit and he even looks like shit.

“Oh god, I swear if these old ladies come in today, I will cry. My head is exploding and this is my fifth coffee today…It´s only 11 and just ugh,” Matty whines and I shoot a half-smile at him.

“At least my head is normal, I am just a bit sick today…luckily,” I answer and put the next order on his tray. He looks miserably at me before he walks off to the table. I don’t even notice, that Harry comes in. He wasn’t here since we had our movie night with him weeks ago. I thought he just wasn’t so fond of us anymore and disappeared.

“Hello, love. How´ve you been?” he asks and hugs me, kissing my cheek.

“Very well, thank you. We are slightly hungover today, so don’t be confused. How´ve you been?” I ask back and he smiles, as Matt approaches.

“Y/N. They wanted Espresso, not Cappuccino. Hi, Harry.” He says unenthusiastically and I nod, taking one of those cappuccinos for myself and making some Espresso. Matt hands one of the wrong orders to Harry and smiles.

“I thought you quit us,” he says very honest and Harry laughs.

“No way, you two are too adorable to quit. I was just busy, that´s all,” he answers and I smile.

The shift takes ages to pass by and we actually don’t talk very much. It is like an exchange of company from Harry for coffee from us. But it´s not awkward at all.

Matt says his goodbyes very quickly after we finished our shift and leaves us alone. I sigh and finish my coffee.

“You look tired, what would you say to a hot cup of tea and a crackling fire?” he asks and I look at him.

“Sounds perfect, but where do I get this? Maybe with a nice bath…oh why don’t I have a tub?” I sigh and he chuckles.

“I have all of it and you are gladly invited to come home with me…If you want,” he looks a bit shy and I smile at him. How could I resist when someone asks me to take care of my hangover.

Harry takes me home to his huge house and guides me into his kitchen, where he makes us some tea. We sit on his couch and sip our teas. I like his house, it is comfy and more personal than I thought. I expected more like a furniture prospect, no personal things but he has some framed pictures on the wall and a lot of books in an immense bookshelf. The whole interior has Harry written all over it. I mean, I don’t know him that well but I do know him a bit.

“Would you like to have a bath?” he asks and I laugh a little.

“No, it´s just nice to not sit alone at home and suffer,” I reply and he chuckles, kicking his boots off of his feet. He was wearing black Chelsea boots with some black skinny jeans and a warm sweater. The upper part of his prince-like locks is tugged back in a small bun, so it doesn’t bother him.

“Anytime, you can stop by as often as you want,” he assures and I lean back in this unbelievably comfortable couch.

“Very nice of you. You know…when you walked in a few weeks ago and Matt explained to me who you were, I thought you would be arrogant and kind of a snob…but I am glad you turned out to be nothing of that,” he laughs and rests his arm behind me on the rest of his couch.

“I am glad, I didn’t turn out as a douchebag either. I am happy to have met you both…Can I be honest with you?” he asks and I nod my head. Of course, he can be honest with me.

“When I decided to walk into this café I was just interested in you. I saw you from outside and I just had to go in…I never expected to find such amazing new friends and now I am kind of scared to destroy this friendly relationship but…I have to ask. I would like to take you out on a date sometime, if you are fine with that?” his voice seems a bit shaky and I look at him, to see if he really means it.

“I mean, I know I come with a huge package and I would totally understand if you don’t want to get involved in all this media business frenzy…but I like you, I really do and I would love to take you out for dinner…You are amazing,” he says and I smile, turning a bit red on my cheeks.

“I would love to, because…I like you too and I don’t care about your package. I like you, not your fame or money. Just you, you are a gentleman and extremely friendly, funny and charming. I think you would treat a girl like a lady,” I respond and he beams at me, showing his amazing dimples and his cute smile.

“You have no idea how relieved I am, that you said yes. Most women say yes to a date with me, because I am Harry Styles and they want to spend time with me, they are not interested in me but my money and fame. The fact that you didn’t know me when I walked into the café is so amazing and so surreal, I was extremely nervous to ask you out. Like a normal man would be, if he isn’t famous,” he says and I nod. I get what he means.

“Glad to be able to ground you,” I laugh and he joins before he leans in and hugs me tight. I close my eyes and hug him back, inhaling his expensive scent.

I let him go and look at him. Could I fall in love with this handsome guy? I am sure he is a good man, friendly and kind, loving and passionate. My heart beats a bit faster, as I look into his mesmerizing emerald green eyes and as he now tugs a loose strand of my hair behind my ear, I close my eyes for a split second. His hand touches my cheek, caressing it slightly, before I feel a light pressure on my lips.

I don’t have to open my eyes, I know that he kisses me and I don’t complain at all. I lean into the kiss and he grabs my face with both of his hands, scooting closer on the couch. I put my hands on his hip and snake my hands under his sweater. It gets a bit steamier very fast and I can feel his tongue asking for permission to enter my lips. I open them and our tongues start an erotic fight, while he pushes me back onto the couch. He hovers now over me in the perfect position for me to get off his sweater. I let my hands wander over his toned and tattooed body, as he kisses my neck.

“We haven’t even dated yet,” he whispers and I can feel his hands under my shirt.

“I know” I reply and try to catch my breath before he kisses me again and I get dizzy in my head.

This is amazing, I wish we would never stop but eventually, he sits up straight and looks at me with red kissed lips and flushed cheeks.

“We will continue here very soon, but first I want to take you out on a date. I don’t do this just for fun” he explains and takes his sweater back. I like that he is not like the other guys. I like that he wants to be responsible and sure. He seems to care, that the girl doesn’t feel like she´s being used.

This was requested by my friend and I love writing requests, so if you have one send it. They are always open.

I hope you liked it, please share and like and comment the hell out of it.

Love, xx

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles smut #Harry Styles Imagine #Harry Styles FF #Harry Styles blurb #Harry Styles Oneshot #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles fluff #1d #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction imagine #one direction oneshot #1dff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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yanderecandystore · 4 years

Note

How would (female) Darling react to a yandere King of the human world and a yandere Queen of vampires fighting for Darling’s hand)? [Headcannons]

Hello everyone, I hope you didn't wait too long.( ˘ ³˘)♥

I wasn't sure how to write this one, but it's a really interesting concept and I couldn't leave it behind.

I don't think this is my best work, since the story that I'm going for is a little too big to be contained in a headcanon, so all may feel a little fast, and a little too long at the same time.

So maybe I'm going to make an proper fanfiction with an longer experience of this events. And I'm sorry if this isn't what you were waiting for, and if there is too many errors. This is so huge, is a nightmare!

Also, a little trigger warning, there is an mention of an increasing number of deaths caused by an "disease", but is mostly used in the headcanon as a little plot point, and is mostly because I like to reference the anime Shiki when I write about vampires. But if you feel like this may trigger or affect you in anyway, especially considering the recent events, I would just like to warn you right now.

꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡

Crossfire [Yandere Human King x F!Reader x Yandere Vampire Queen]:

Being born as an commoner was already hard enough, you didn't need anymore trouble in your life!

You started working inside the castle as a simple gardener, attending to the gardens inside the castle walls. The queen was known to love gardens, well, until she passed away.

The queen passed away years before you started working inside the castle, and the original king? Died a couple of months ago.

Both stated to have mysterious causes of death. Most likely caused by an disease.

The coronation of the prince wasn't so long ago, so he is your king now. But even working under his roof, you only met him a couple of times.

Some of your co-workers who had been here way longer than you would say he was a childish, egotistical man, who only cared about his wealth and power over the happiness of others. He didn't have a good relationship with the older king, and his mother passed away when he was only 5 years old.

It wasn't a surprise for any of them that the new monarch would be an bitter man. Yet, he didn't seem to tend to only his needs.

Although he is very rude to you and the other servants, he seems to take his responsibilities really seriously. He seems, almost always on edge, but you don't know why.

Your task made it really easy to never interact with him, he seems to dislike going in his mother garden. You started feeling uneasy out in the garden, you could tell someone was watching you, and when you looked to find out who it was, you could see the king himself watching you from a window. Yet, even when meeting his gaze, you still felt like there was another pair of eyes watching you.

One day, when you start to feel really paranoid, he decides to visit the garden.

"- Oh! Greetings, your majesty!" You bow down to him, trying to hide your surprise, yet it didn't go unnoticed by him, he did came out of nowhere while you were doing your job after all.

"- Good morning, miss [Y/N], right?" He doesn't seem to care about being to formal, but you still feel a little afraid to act the same way towards him.

"- It's been so long since I last came here." He says. Looking around at this place which seems so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

He seems to be daydreaming, memories of his mother flow through his mind causing him to feel desperate to go back inside the castle walls. Yet, he feels like he needs to be here.

He knows you shouldn't be here. It's dangerous in the garden, his mother said so.

"- A-are you okay?" His breathing, his whole body language tells you he is not okay. His almost hypnotized by whatever terrible thoughts going on his mind. It's the first time you see a different expression on his face. It's not one of anger or of silent disgust, is fear.

It's like a child.

You can't have him passing out like this, you take him to the nearest sit so he can calm down.

"- I am calm!" He corrects you, clearly lying yet trying to strike his usual confident and superior act.

"- No, you're not. Please, tell me what happened, should I call the maids? The guards?"

You asking what's going on with him, yet he can't find the words to describe it. He is too scared to say, so you should try to comfort him instead of asking too much questions.

Slowly, he start to feel more comfortable around you, your eyes, your voice, the reassuring touches, it helps him calm down. Your presence makes him forget that his is in this terrible place. You call the maids to help him out, it seems like they already know what to do in this type of situation.

Weeks after the incident, and it seems like the king has been way more attentive to you. Always coming to the garden to talk with you, although he doesn't like to go to far inside the garden. It makes your job a little more difficult since he seems to take all of your attention, yet is a better company than the winds that shake the leaves of the lonely trees.

He doesn't seem to be so rude with you. He is a little narcissistic, but not really mean towards you.

He never told you what happened that day, he only said that the garden brings bad memories. Ever since that day, he kept worrying about you.

Trying to convince you to take the roll as a maid, it would be more beneficial for you, and he could keep you away from the garden.

Yet, you never accepted his request. It seemed weird how fast you became close to the king.

You never understood why he would be so afraid at the garden, until one day, you unfortunately found out who was always watching you work in the garden.

You weren't feeling well, so you decided to take a night walk through the garden. It didn't seem like an clever idea at first (and it wasn't), but when you saw the lights coming from the garden from the window of your room, you couldn't resist taking a closer look.

Fireflies! They look like little stars dancing around the garden.

You should have stayed inside.

Someone, or something, came from behind and neutralized you. It was too fast for you to notice, but now that you're awake as in a completely different place with an familiar knight in front of you, you guess this is what happened.

"- W-where am I?" You try asking the knight who is blocking the door. You try pulling yourself up, yet feel your hands immediately be pulled to the ground by the chains wrapping them.

This makes you instantly freak out and fully wake up. You're inside a dungeon cell.

Yet, the knight doesn't say anything. He just huffs at your whining. You were about to try take some information out of him, when someone knocks on the door.

He looks at you one last time, you can't see his face because of his helmet, yet you can still tell he is threatening you to try anything funny. He turns his way to open the door and go outside, closing the door after getting out.

You can't hear what's going on outside, but since you're all alone, you might as well try to take a good look around. There is only the door, a uncomfortable looking bed, and a window too small for you to fit in.

Noticing that the only light in the room, was the moonlight coming through the window. It is still night time. There must be away out-

"- Evening." Said an female voice. It was monotone, yet seductive in a way. You turn around to find an tall woman wearing dark, extravagant clothes.

Her face was covered by an dark veil, it was as if she was an bride wearing fully black, or an black widow. You didn't recognize her voice, or her appearance, yet you could only feel extremely frightened by her presence.

"- I didn't think you would be awake this early, but since you're finally conscious we can get to know each other." She says as she starts to walk closer to your shaking form. You can't see her eyes, but you can tell she is staring at your very soul.

This feeling is way too familiar to you.

"- Who are you? Where am I?" Trying to maintain a confident attitude you ask who is she. Yet, you are visibly too scared to strike a threatening tone, she notices this and laughs at your naivety.

She kneels down and is face to face with you. This is not exactly how she wanted things to go, yet she is just so thirsty, she can't wait any longer!

"- Aham." You hear the knight call the woman's attention, he seems annoyed with the lady. But either she doesn't notice him, or is just ignoring him. She just keeps observing you with a smile on her pale face.

"- Your majesty." He calls, oh, well apparently your kidnapper is royalty! You don't feel honored by that even a little bit.

"- Yes?" She says overly cheerful, while cupping your cheeks and turning your face, examining your neck. You hold your whimpers, you feel like that would be giving her too much satisfaction.

"- I'm aware I'm not in any position to question your actions-"

"- Yes, absolutely. You're not!" She giggles, although her statement wasn't necessarily mean, her tone seemed to change between anger and playfulness, like she is mocking the knight intrusive behavior.

"- May I ask why I had to go to the filthy castle, to bring you just a simple gardener?"

"- Excuse me?" She finally turns to look up at the knight, who can easily see the mistake he has made. Her tone is serious this time around.

"- I mean- Why her? Why not bring the king? Or any more powerful member of that place? We could have planned an elaborate attack, destroy their kingdom and bring in the humans for-" You started to really dislike where he was going, but before you could get all of the information, the queen shushes him, before he spilled so much info.

"- Oh, my dear, loyal knight, can't you see we have a quest?" She almost yells at him so he could stop mumbling.

"- You're making her afraid~" She pinches your cheek.

"- WE don't want her to be afraid on her first night, right?"

' How considerate.' You think.

"- And for your question… Well-"

She pauses putting a finger over her lips, thinking over what her knight just said.

"- It's true we could have stuck we the plan and destroy the human kingdom fully, and although it is NONE of your business, I'm going to explain to you why I asked you to get me this sweet looking girl instead."

"- …"

The room falls silent, is she waiting for him to question? She wraps her arms around you, her grip is almost squeezing the air in your lungs out.

"- … W-why?-"

"- Because I'm extremely pick with what I drink, love." She keeps giggling and hugging you tighter. Wait, what did she mean by-

"- And you, my lovely knight, is in no position to question me, or are you?" Her tone is playful, yet her whole demeanor seems so threatening.

He keeps his head down, you can hear him say a meek "yes". Maybe he is just as scared if her as you are.

"- Leave." Her happy tone goes away again and is replaced by the serious one.

He stumbles a little, but manages to get out of the cell as quick as he could.

After she makes sure she can't listen to his footsteps anymore, she signs and turns her full attention on you.

"- Sigh, I lost the mood, you know?"

Yeah, you know exactly what she is talking about.

"- Oh don't look at me like that, aren't you glad you're here? You're in presence of a vampire queen, you know?"

"- … What?" Is all you can think of asking. What is she talking about? Vampires aren't real, right?

"- You're so cute! I'm so glad you're here, I been hungry for so many weeks now. How mean of you to make me hungry~" She smiles while teasing your neck with her fangs. They look so sharp to the touch.

She is saying the truth though. They had planned an attack for months now, yet after she saw you, she had thrown all of that preparation out of the window.

Like a spoiled child, she refuse to drink from anyone or anything. Your sweet little form plagued her mind. She was a pick drinker, nothing but the best for the queen, after all.

She was planning on having a better approach to you. Having a better room for you than the other blood stocks on the dungeons, having an good preparation to meet you in person and bring you here with her mind control.

But she is just so hungry. And you have an nice sent, better than any of the nobles of your kingdom she had drunk from.

"- Don't worry about it." She whispers, not waiting too long to just sink her fangs into you.

After so much screaming and so much failed attempts at running away from her grasp. You had fallen asleep. While she didn't know if she would stay here or go back to her chambers.

And on the castle were you once worked for, the king search for you at every corner, after noticing that you were missing from your room.

꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡

#special delivery headcanons #special delivery scenarios #sheep is thirsty #this is a nightmare to read #lol #yandere #yandere king #yandere queen #yandere vampire #yandere vampire queen #yandere m! x f! reader #yandere f! x f! reader #yandere m! x f! reader x yandere f!#inspired by Shiki #aaaaaaah #how are ya?

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 4 years

Photo

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach

Chapter 9: 14 Men (5)

After she sat down and Jamie poured everyone a glass of water, Ferdinand Groide began:

"Mrs. Beauchamp, Jamie, Mr. Fraser, told me that your husband is Dr. Frank Randall. Is that correct?"

(...)

"As you may also know, I have left my husband. Our marriage had been on paper only for several years. I intend to ask for a divorce, if that's possible from here. But I still have to care about this man's life. I'm a doctor, I took an oath. If I reveal the secrets I have learned... what will you do to him?"

"What do you mean? What are we going to do with him?"

"Will you hurt him? I mean, will you let someone hurt him?"

Ferdinand Groide and Jamie looked at each other in amazement.

"Mrs. Beauchamp, we're not the Mafia. We don't hire hit men."

"But you're in Intelligence, Mr. Groide."

Claire said that sentence with the same calm and objectivity as if she was saying to Jenny:

"If you put one more egg in the batter, it gets better."

"And intelligence agencies do these things," she added to her statement with the same objectivity.

"Well, maybe the CIA or the KGB. Let me answer you this way: In my opinion, a living Frank Randall is far more interesting and valuable to a secret service than a dead Frank Randall."

"In other words, you guarantee me that the information I give you will not endanger his life."

Groide and Jamie looked at each other again.

"Promise me."

It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the words Claire used to make that demand left none of the men unaware that there was no alternative to this bargain for them.

Groide struck the hand Claire held out to him.

"You have my word, Mrs. Beauchamp. You don't know me yet and you probably mistrust me. That's only natural. But Jamie, Mr. Fraser, can assure you that I'm a man of my word."

Claire looked over at Jamie. He nodded.

"Done."

She reached for the glass of water that Jamie had put in her hand and emptied it in one gulp.

Then she began to talk.

"Microphone" by Florian-Media

"It was in the year 2015, in late November 2015 to be exact."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Beauchamp," Groide objected, "but we ought to do this properly."

He removed from his briefcase a device whose rectangular clunkness was reminiscent of an early mobile phone. After placing it in the center of the table, he inserted two small, round microphones attached to longer cables, one pointing at Claire and one pointing at himself. Groide pressed the record button, then he gave the date, time, place, names of those present and, as the reason for the recording, ‘Statement by Dr. Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp’.

Jamie had to smile. Ferdinand was a friendly person, but he was also a German bureaucrat. Everything had to follow the specific order and everything had to be done 'by the book'. Those Germans. They had rules for everything. They couldn't just have a conversation like that, it had to be a 'statement' and of course it had to be 'recorded'. In this country everything was recorded, either on paper or on tape. And then everything was filed, paginated, numbered and archived. Nothing was lost. They were so damn meticulous, these Germans, but also so damn effective.

"Please begin with your personal life, Mrs. Beauchamp. Name, birthday, place of birth, family, etc."

"My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I was born in London on October 20, 1993, the only child of Julia, née Moriston, and Henry Montmorency Beauchamp. My mother was a primary school teacher, my father worked as a statistician for an insurance company. In the winter of 1998 my parents were killed in a car accident. My uncle, Lambert Quentin Beauchamp, was appointed by the authorities as my foster father and guardian. He was my only living relative, my father's only brother. Due to the activities of my uncle, who was an egyptologist and archaeologist, I grew up in England for only a short time, the rest of the time we spend abroad. When I was 16 years old, my uncle returned to England permanently and accepted a professorship at Oxford University. Shortly afterwards I began training as a nurse. Also in Oxford. At the age of 19, I had just completed my education, I met my future husband Franklin Wolverton Randall through my uncle. He also worked in the history department and specialised in Scottish history. At times he worked as an assistant to a professor. We married the following year. My uncle died only a few months later. His health had unfortunately not been the best at the end of his life. When my husband was called to Harvard University's history department, we moved to Boston.

"Oxford" by MarlonRondal

Groide nodded. Jamie was sure that nothing Claire had told him so far was new to his friend. Guaranteed, they had checked Claire from the day he requested the visa for her passport. And they had certainly not been idle since then. At "In Vino Veritas" there was a small but very effective group of staff who had certainly dug up everything they could find about the young woman in the past few days.

"When and how did you learn of your husband's secret activities?"

"It was in the year 2015, in late November of that year to be exact. Does the name Jonathan Pollard mean anything to you?"

Jamie listened with new interest. Groide just nodded.

"Then you know that this man has served thirty years in the United States for espionage. In 2015 he was released on parole and in the American media there was a lot of coverage and discussion for days. I had never heard this man's name before and, to be honest, I didn't care about the whole thing. However, I listened up when my husband spoke about it. It was a Sunday, two days after Pollard was released. I remember the whole thing so well because that day was the day of the terrible accident in that jademine in Myanmar, where 90 people were killed and over 100 people were missing. We had had dinner and then Frank turned on the TV. There was a talk show where the case was discussed. My husband had already started drinking in the afternoon. While Frank was watching the talk show, I thought, ‘My goodness, they're talking about an age-old espionage case and people are dying elsewhere without the media even paying attention.’"

Claire reached for her glass, which Jamie had refilled in the meantime, and took a big sip.

"I didn't pay much attention to the discussion on TV. But then suddenly Frank started mumbling loudly:

'Spy! Spy! Spy! Nonsense! The man was an amateur! What real spy leaves secret documents openly on his desk in the office and his wife was stupid enough to leave a suitcase with secret documents with a neighbour who was in the military himself!’”

Claire reached for her glass again and drank.

"What he said made me furious, so I said to him: 'Oh yes, but you know how a real spy behaves!’ I thought his reaction was terribly arrogant. To my surprise, he then turned down the TV. He came over and sat down with me on the sofa. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. Then he said, ‘Yes, my darling, I know that. The MI5 recruited and trained me while I was still studying at Oxford. Right after they heard I was going to specialise in Scottish history. With my family background and the good connections we had in the military and police through my cousin Jonathan, there were no obstacles.’”

"Books" by MichaelGaida

"How did you react to that?"

"Well, at first I was stumped. I thought he was just showing-off again. So I replied, ‘Why would the MI5 need an expert in Scottish history?’ He replied, ‘Well, of course you can't imagine, you little fool. Good God, Claire! The Scots want independence and just because last year's referendum went so well, they will not give up. It's their history they're drawing strength from! What do you think will happen if they really gain their independence? It could set off a chain reaction. You know that Prime Minister Cameron announced two years ago that he would hold a referendum on Britain's withdrawal from the EU if he was re-elected in 2015? So? He has been re-elected! Now there must be a referendum. And what if Britain's withdrawal from the EU is carried out but Scotland becomes independent and is then admitted to the EU as a member? Did you ever think about that? This is going to get us in big trouble! Then the EU will continue to stand with two legs on our island! We can't let that happen.’”

Claire paused for a moment, then she went on: "I must have looked at him in wonder and disbelief, because suddenly he stormed out of the living room. I heard him looking for something in his study. When he came back he had a newspaper article in his hand which he held in front of my face. ‘Read it,’ he said to me. ‘Our government takes this danger seriously... and so should you!‘ I took the article and read. It was an article in the International Business Times in July 2015. It reported that the Prime Minister had met with the CEOs of a media company. The purpose of the meeting was allegedly to prevent the broadcast of a TV series about the Scottish Rebellion of 1746 before the referendum on Scottish independence. It seems that a request has been made to postpone the broadcast. I later found on his desk a copy of an article from ‘The Scotsman’, which also covered the subject in detail.” Groide and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. Both men nodded, but said nothing.

"Frankly," Claire continued, "I hadn't given the matter any thought at all. In the five years before, I had been mainly busy finishing my medical studies and gaining experience as a doctor. You don't have much time to worry about other things. Besides, due to my, well, somewhat non-conformist upbringing, I was never so much confined to one country alone ..."

"How is it that despite medical school, your husband still refers to you as..." Groide is looking for words, "intellectually... weaker...?” "Frank believes that medical school would consist largely of memorizing the contents of textbooks. He thought that people's bodies were somehow all the same and that if you had learned the appropriate forms of treatment, then you could treat them. He never understood the diversity and complexity of the human body and how medical science reacts to it." "Did your husband explain his duties for the MI5 to you?" "When I told him that Scotland's history, and Scotland's ambitions for independence, were well known, he told me not to think so superficially. He said that historians are not only concerned with the past. They can also make predictions about the future to a certain extent, based on their knowledge. I should think about what the clan system had meant and still means to the Scots. Why did the English central government everything to destroy it after the Jacobite uprising of 1746? England should not allow a united counter-power to be formed again in the north of the country. He was probably particularly concerned about this lobby group, One Banner for all Scots, which had formed the year before."

"Scottish Independence" by Emphyrio Claire was focused on Ferdinand Groide and the recording equipment in front of her. She didn't see Jamie's face become more and more thoughtful.

"Mrs. Beauchamp, all this is interesting, but... not very specific." "At first, I too got to know only general things. It only became more specific later when I did... well, my own... research. "You did your own research?" Groide suddenly seemed interested again. Jamie tried not to smile. What seemed like a minor revelation to his friend only confirmed what he had been thinking all along. Claire was an intelligent, strong woman. Her strength might have been broken for a time by what her husband had done to her. But Jamie was sure that she would find her way back to that strength. And he vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to help her. "I thought Frank was a braggart for a long time, but... I can't describe it exactly. Something had caught my interest. Then a colleague asked me if I would trade a weekly shift with her. She would have had a night shift, but her babysitter was unavailable. I agreed and that same afternoon I went to the university library and borrowed books on Scottish history and the independence movement. The department where I was on night duty was not very labour-intensive. I had a lot of time to read and think during the nights of that week." She paused for a moment. "After that week, I became aware of the urgency of the issue." Groide didn't say anything, but his gaze urged her to continue. "National self-determination. Well, there's no need to explain that further. Scotland's oil. 64% of Europe's oil reserves are on Scottish territory. They're said to be worth 4 trillion pounds. Then there is the issue of renewable energy. I mean Scotland has 25 % of Europe's wind energy potential, 25 % of Europe's tidal energy potential and 10 % of Europe's wave energy potential. I do not have to tell you that these are also enormous financial potentials." A fine smile appeared on Groide's face. "And then, of course, there is the question of nuclear disarmament: with control of defence and foreign policy, an independent Scotland could tackle the elimination of Trident nuclear weapons, an issue long associated with the campaign for an independent Scotland. Trident class submarines carrying missiles with 120 nuclear warheads are based at the Clyde naval base near Glasgow. In the event of Scottish independence, England would have to withdraw these weapons and revise its defence strategy. I imagine that would be a thorn in the side of the American allies as well. There will certainly be a lot of diplomatic pressure behind the scenes." Claire took a deep breath. "Now you're going to tell me that this is all public information and I would agree with you. But I wasn't aware of it before. These informations woke me up. It took a while but when I had the opportunity to take on another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling up. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the brexite, his travels intensified.” To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Tea" by Pexels "This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013. supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian." Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside. "Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data." "In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty. Because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."

"Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?" "Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie. "Certainly." He got up and left the room. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.

#14DaysofOutlander #From Boston to Berlin in 14 Hours #Outlander #Outlander fan Fiction #Boston #Berlin #Claire Beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #Frank Randall #Jonathan Randall #Ian Murray #Jenny Murray

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dinoyoongi · 5 years

Text

Confirm or Deny (5)

SYNOPSIS: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader

GENRE: Romance, Angst

WARNINGS: Strong language

WORD COUNT: 3503

AUTHORS NOTE: A bit shorter than the others but I felt this was a good spot to end the chapter on. There will only be one more part to this before it’s over! I want to thank everybody for your patience - I’m definitely not as quick a writer as some others on here and when I do sit down to work on this, writer’s block hits me like a garbage truck every time. This chapter is kind of rushed and Namjoon-less but it I hope you’ll all like it just the same! Thanks for all the love. ❤️

___________________________________

BREAKING: Y/N officially departs FRNZEE & terminates contract with Hot Star Entertainment!

After two months of speculation of whether Y/N would return to FRNZEE after being attacked outside the KBS building, it's been confirmed by Hot Star Entertainment that Y/N has officially terminated her contract with the company. Y/N was recently involved in controversy after her company confirmed dating rumors between Y/N and BTS' leader RM that the latter denied. She had been removed from the group's comeback and was on hiatus from all activities when she was attacked by BTS fans outside the KBS building during a taping of Music Bank that she had attended with her manager out of support for her members. Despite official statements being released by both Big Hit Entertainment and RM – who uploaded a handwritten plea on Weverse begging for his fans to stop the bullying – Hot Star Entertainment felt that Y/N's mental health was being compromised and released her from contract.

“Like they give a shit about my mental health,” you snicker sarcastically, dropping your phone a little too forcefully onto the kitchen counter. From your peripheral, you can see your mother's lips turn downwards in disapproval at your foul language but she fortunately chooses not to scold you, recognizing the delicate situation. It's not as if this is a blindside. Nobody was pulling the wool over your eyes right now. You had been aware that they were permanently removing you from the group and from the company only one day after you returned home to Daejeon.

You're only surprised that they waited this long to announce it. You imagine it wouldn't look too good for them if they kicked you out of the group right after you were assaulted – no surprise there. Their image is all they care about.

“Has anyone tried reaching out to you?” your mother asks from the stove, stirring a steaming pot languidly.

Your eyes fall down to your still-lit phone, catching the small red balloon icon that signifies missed notifications. Calls, texts, voicemail, emails; you don't need to open them to see who they're from – you've spent the past week dodging any incoming forms of communication from everyone including your members, your former manager, the CEO of Hot Star, numbers that you don't recognize that you assume to be reporters and even all seven members of BTS.

Out of all the names that showed up on the screen on your phone, Namjoon's appeared the most.

His unread messages and unopened voicemails feel like an anchor on your chest. Is he reaching out to pity you for what happened with his fans? Is he reaching out to get back together with you? Is he reaching out to cuss at you because you dragged his name into your articles again? Is he reaching out to hammer that final nail in the coffin and be done with you for good?

All of these scenarios are equally terrifying so you pretend that the messages don't exist. However, there are times when you miss him so much that your chest physically aches and the thought of loading up your phone's inbox to listen to his voice is so devastatingly tempting. Playing his albums or watching him on YouTube isn't the same. You don't miss RM – you miss Namjoon. Your Namjoon.

You're not completely depriving yourself of him, though. Two months ago, the day of your attack, he posted a message messily scrawled onto a napkin to his Weverse account. Despite his username displaying as RM, your heart can tell just by his words that it's Namjoon. You've stared at the message so many times over the past few weeks that you have the words ingrained into your head.

ARMY,

Today, somebody I care about was seriously injured. I want to deny that our lovely ARMY would do anything to cause harm to other people. That's not Bangtan. That's not what we teach, what we stand for. But that was our logo on their phone cases. That was our lightstick in the pocket of their bags. That was our faces on keychains that hung from their straps. At the risk of upsetting some, I speak on behalf of the rest of the group to say to those who harm other people in the name of Bangtan – both physically and verbally – you are not ARMY. ARMY is better than this. ARMY is too good for this.

Please ARMY, let's always be better.

It's a simple message but one that you know was difficult for him to write. Having known the boys for the majority of their career growth, you know that the admiration they have for their fans is one-hundred percent not an act. Knowing that some of them assaulted you in such a humiliating manner had to have felt like a knife in the gut.

“Nobody,” you lie to your mom who quirks her brows, waiting for your response. “Nobody has tried contacting me at all.”

“When are you going back to Seoul?”

You sigh, dropping your eyes onto the kitchen counter. “Mom, why would I go back to Seoul? There's nothing there for me anymore.”

“What are you going to do then?” your mother asks softly. You hear the spoon she was stirring with drop the table, followed by a heavy sigh. “Is that it? You're done with your music career?”

“It isn't as if my contract just expired and I can shop around for new agencies. I was the center of a very huge scandal. I was the butt of jokes and online bullying for so long. I don't think there's an agency out there that would poke me with a ten foot pole at this point.”

“But you trained for so long. You didn't go to university. Y/N, what -”

Your body slides from the stool, your feet slapping against the linoleum so hard that your mother flinches from the sound. “I'm suddenly feeling kind of sleepy. I'll just go take a nap before dinner.”

She calls your name as you lug yourself upstairs towards your bedroom but you pretend not to hear. You're not angry with her – absolutely not. If you're angry at anything, it's your life. It's this situation. It's the world. It's a fact that most idols audition and join agencies for two things and two things only – money and fame. And while those two things can be really great at times, that's not why you decided to be an idol. You decided to become an idol because, well … there was really nothing else you could do.

Throughout your life, whenever anybody asked you “what do you want to be when you grow up?” you never gave the usual answers that your classmates did – police officers, veterinarians, doctors, lawyers, judges, the president. Your answer from the first time you were asked until the last remained unchanged: an idol. Music was everything to you. There was nothing that you could study for, nothing you could major in that would give you a sense of happiness and fulfillment like music did. Like music still does. It was the upbeat songs, the quirky choreography, the super cute but super outrageous outfits, the camaraderie and bonds formed between group members and the thrill of satisfaction when all of that came together for a comeback. That is what you've always wanted. There was nothing that came even close.

And now that you've had it, now that it's slipped right through your fingers … what do you do? What are you supposed to do with your life?

Heaving yourself onto your bed, you groan in frustration. Your phone chirps from the pocket of your hooded sweatshirt, alerting you to a text message. Waving the device in front of your face, you sigh when you see Ji-na's name.

Ji-na: please be strong. keep your head up. don't skip meals. i love you and i'm sorry.

Your chest throbs are you reread the words again. And then for a third time. If you were being honest with yourself, you stopped being angry with Ji-na and the rest of the group the moment you arrived home. If you were to put yourself in their shoes – would you have reacted the same way? An idol's career is already typically short; seven or eight years if you're lucky. Would you be willing to risk that for another person? The knee-jerk response might come easy to some but only those who have been in your shoes, trained as long and hard as you and your members did, can answer that question. But despite not holding onto any anger, you can't erase the betrayal from your heart. Ji-na was more than just a member of your group. Ji-na was your best friend. Ji-na was the hand that you reached for when FRNZEE was getting mobbed at airports. Ji-na is your first dibs sleeping buddy when you had to pair up in hotel rooms. There was very little that you couldn't and wouldn't tell Namjoon but if there was – Ji-na was the one you confided in. Ji-na was everything.

And going through this without her and Namjoon seems incredibly impossible.

Your eyes leave the phone, slipping over to the corner of the room where your suitcase and bags are haphazardly strewn about as you were too lazy to commit to unpacking. The one thing propped neatly against the wall is a sparkly, medium-sized gift bag, intricately tied with rainbow ribbons. Ji-na's birthday is coming up in week but you've had her present ready for months. Instead of leaving it at the dorms, you brought it home with you. At the time, you were so caught up in your anger and woes and self-misery that you had every intention of sending it back to the store once you settled in but now?

It seems you have a present to hand deliver.

_______________________________________

- TWO WEEKS LATER -

You've only been gone for two months but it seems like Seoul has already changed so much. The first big difference? There's now a doorman stationed in the lobby of the dorm apartments. You can tell that he recognizes you immediately by the way his cheeks flush red but he still refuses to let you go any farther, keeping you a safe distance away from the elevator. You get it, you really do. He was probably hired to keep out nosy reporters and fansites and journalists but knowing Hot Star the way that you do now, you have no doubt that he was also explicitly warned not to let you in. Sighing, you pull your phone from your bag, typing a few quick words to Ji-na before hitting send.

It only takes three minutes for the elevator to open with a loud ding and a flash of pale skin is hurtling itself at you. Ji-na wraps her arms around your neck so tightly that you cough from the pressure until she loosens her grip. You try to ignore the moisture that you see building in her eyes when she pulls away.

Grabbing her hand, she tugs you toward the elevator. “Come on. We have some talking to do.”

“Ah -” the doorman interjects, nervously stepping in front of you. “I'm sorry, Ji-na. She's on the no clearance list. She can't go up.”

Ji-na scoffs. “Even with my permission? Even though I'm bringing her up with me?”

He grimaces. “I'm sorry. It's my job.”

“It's okay, Ji-na. I just wanted to drop this off anyway,” you say, thrusting the bag in her direction. She stares at it for a few hard seconds before hesitantly accepting it. “Happy Birthday. If you're ever near Daejeon, let me know, okay?”

You turn on your heel to leave but a painful grip on your hand stops you. Ji-na twirls you around to face her, like a scene straight out of a cheesy drama. She's toe to toe with the doorman, facial features locked in what you know is supposed to be intimidation but on Ji-na it just looks like an angry kitten.

“If you won't let her upstairs, let's compromise. Your office?” she quirks an eyebrow, head jutting toward the door behind his podium. He contemplates this offer for a moment before relenting with a sigh, dropping a pair of keys into her hand.

“Don't tell your management about this, okay? She's not even supposed to be in the building at all.”

Ji-na throws him an obnoxious salute before yanking you into the room.

_______________________________________

Your heart-to-heart is long and full of anger, accusation, revelations, tears, laughter, giggling and so much more. While you're not ready to completely forgive her for leaving you behind that day, you've accepted the reality that Ji-na is one of the only friends that you have and you're not ready to let her go. She understands your continuing edginess with the situation and promises to do everything in her power to regain your trust and make it up to you.

You expected to leave with a heavier heart than you came with. Instead, most of the weight has lifted.

You only exit the doorman's office after Ji-na receives a text from one of her managers about a project meeting the group has soon. Her arm is around your side as she walks you to the front door, squeezing you tightly. “Please come visit a lot more. We have some off time coming up – would you mind terribly if I came to stay with you in Daejeon?”

You roll your eyes but your smile stays wide. “No, I wouldn't mind terribly. Just give me a heads up so I can stock up on soju and shrimp chips.”

She throws her head back to laugh loudly, bumping her hip to yours as the two of you take a few more steps toward the front door. “Yes! You know me so well! And you also have to make sure that you have tons of-”

“Y/N.”

The voice is jarring but immediately recognizable. Lifting your head, you meet the eyes of your previous manager. The last time you had seen him, he was loading your belongings into the back of a car that would send you right home. He gapes at you, gaze wide and shocked. Behind you, the doorman audibly groans.

“Um, he has nothing to do with this,” you hurriedly declare, throwing your thumb behind you in the groaning man's direction. “He was in the process of kicking me out, I swear. He's very good at his job. You guys should give him a raise. Okay, bye.”

You squeeze Ji-na's hand one final time before moving to scurry out of the building. For the second time today, fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you backward. You sigh as you yank your hand away. “A simple 'wait! stop!' would suffice. Why is everyone so grabby today? Look, I was just dropping off a birthday present for Ji-na. I promise that the doorman didn't let me go upstairs.”

“Y/N, I don't care about the doorman. I have something for you,” he says quickly before reaching into the tote bag that hangs around his shoulder. He rummages somewhat frantically for a few seconds before producing a business card, raising it into the air with pride and beaming as if it was the cure to a zombie outbreak. “You remember me telling you about one of my old co-managers for a different group who quit Hot Star and started working for P NATION?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. This was not the greeting that you expected out of your former manager.

“Um … I think so. He's one of Hyuna's managers now, you said.”

“Yes!” he screeches, his chest heaving as if he has just finished running a marathon. You exchange a glance with Ji-na who looks equally perplexed. “Yes, he works with Hyuna. And he called me last week and said that Hyuna heard about everything that happened to you in the news. And so she started looking you up on YouTube and she thinks you're really talented and wants your contact information.”

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register everything that he has just said considering how quick, breathless and jumbled his words are. Ji-na is elbowing you excitedly in the ribs.

“I've tried asking Hot Star for your address but they wouldn't tell me anything. I was literally coming here to ask Ji-na to try to reach out to you so I could pass the information along but here you are! It's like fate!”

Ji-na throws her elbow much deeper this time, accompanying the jab with a sharp screech. You can see that there's something exciting happening but your brain isn't putting it all together yet.

“Um, why does Hyuna want my contact information? You said she heard about my situation in the news so she must know that I'm not with FRNZEE anymore, right? Or any company, for that matter. We can't collab or anything like that.”

Manager and Ji-na groan in unison, so in sync that it seems rehearsed.

“Y/N, please, are you really this dense? Do I need to dumb this down for you?”

You grimace but bat your eyelashes hopefully. “Would you?”

She sighs, slapping her hands down hard onto your shoulders. “Hyuna was kicked out of Cube for a dating scandal. Psy – who founded P NATION – signed her right after. You were kicked out of Hot Star for a dating scandal. And now Hyuna is contacting you. I mean, I'm just speculating here but there's no way this is a coincidence.”

Wait.

If she's saying what you think she's saying then …

Hyuna wants to contact you … to sign you … to P NATION?

All you were here to do was to drop off Ji-na's birthday present. After this, you were going to stop into a few cosmetic stores to stock up on some harder-to-find products and then treat yourself to a well-deserved oreo bingsu before heading home. Talking to Hyuna – arguably one of the most popular and influential females in the k-pop industry ever – about possibly signing with Psy's new agency was not in the forecast.

Realizing your stunned state, Manager smirks smugly, lifting your hand to drop the business card into before wrapping your fingers around it and letting it fall.

The card feels like fire in your palm.

“Y/N,” Ji-na's voice breaks through your haze. You glance up at her silently, her warm smile only heightening your nervousness. “Go home and call her. Listen to what she has to say or what she has to … offer. Okay? And then call me and tell me every little detail.”

“You guys, that can't be right. Hyuna and Dawn's scandal was different – they both admitted to being in the relationship. Nobody bullied or laughed at them. I … I'm a joke. Why would P NATION want to sign me? Do you think they're just going around plucking up poor little k-pop idols who are mistreated by their labels? No, they're smarter than that. They-”

A hand – belonging to either Manager or Ji-na, you're not sure which one – whacks you upside the head. The strength of the blow is painful but it has its desired affect – it shuts you right up.

“Stop it, Y/N,” Manager scolds. “What happened to you wasn't fair and we all know it. You worked so hard for FRNZEE and maybe this is your good karma. Maybe this is ...”

“Fate!” Ji-na squeals hysterically.

___________________________________

An hour later, you're sitting in the corner of the cafe by yourself, a heaping bowl of bingsu untouched in front of you. Instead, your eyes focus on the card that you've set down onto the table. You wonder if this is a prank; if someone from Hot Star is getting one last act of cruel revenge on you before parting ways completely.

But what if it's not?

What if this is what was always supposed to happen? Everything that has happened to you, everything that you've been through, everything that you've lost … was it for this? Half of you jitters in happiness at the prospect of being signed to a label that houses some of the greats – Psy, Hyuna, Jessi. But the other half of you mourns what you had to give up for this.

Namjoon.

Was this opportunity supposed to make you grateful for losing him? Are you supposed to feel like your breakup served some kind of purpose now?

It didn't. Most of the happiest moments you can remember are either with Namjoon or because of Namjoon. If the choice was your idol career or Namjoon then …

Why do you have to make a choice? Why can't you have both? Why is that wrong?

For the first time, you shift your eyes away from the P NATION logo and onto the phone number scrawled messily onto the bottom of the card.

Lifting your phone, you dial with trembling fingers.

< -- PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER -- >

#bts #bts fanfic #namjoon #kim namjoon #RM #rm fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #rm x you #rm x reader #namjoon angst #rm angst #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #bts imagine #bts x you #bts x reader

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akimmito · 4 years

Text

Heroes are made by the path they choose

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___________________________

Chapter 5

Paris News @ParisNewsTWT

Two more victims are confirmed as a result of the bomb, on the way to the hospital an eight-year-old boy and a fifteen-year-old teenager die. We regret the loss and our condolences to the families.

______________

Byakko is the first vigilant to appear on the scene, watching from the rooftops the development of the situation. She was the first to be able to warn the others if they should also arrive, the officers argue while the bomb team checks the perimeter to determine if there are more devices or if there was only one, the forensic team is waiting to move the two bodies. Byakko grimaces, the scene is terrible to watch.

"Byakko, give your report." Max's voice sounds on the other end of the line, only getting the images from the security cameras surviving the explosion, which gives him very little coverage of the scene. He only sees police and paramedics.

"The bomb squad checks the perimeter. You should send someone to see the wounded and find out their condition. I will stay here and speak to the police to offer support. "

"Be careful. "

"Always."She smiles and jumps off the roof to fall behind the coroners, she approaches them to discuss the events and gather information, they will be in charge of investigating further in parallel with the police, as they usually do when they decide to get involved in any case.

While Byakko plunges into the crime scene, Pyxis enters the hospital to await the victims who are still alive. He draws everyone's attention, his black costume with violet and silver is striking enough surrounded by so much white... that and that he's one of the vigilantes, the mask definitely gives the attention call, at least it is not a kind of helmet like that of Byakko. He adjusts his black hair as he stands uncomfortably in an emergency corner, it would be easier if there was someone else with him, but everyone is waiting. He's sure that Felix must be returning from Romania and that Marinette must be preparing to return to the MT without her employees suspecting.

"Pyxis, can you take a picture with my son?" A woman approaches him, looks concerned." They'll take him to emergency surgery and he's scared. "

"Uh, sure…" He grows shy as he walks behind the light brown-haired woman, she also looks scared. The good news is that the hospital has safeguards or it would be an easy target for Akuma, he's relieved that Hawkmoth didn't think to use them until a year before the end of his reign of terror. The Akuma created by emotions born from traumatic problems are much more dangerous than the common ones, they are dangerous and the situation that just happened can become a trigger.

As they advance to the space where the child waits on a stretcher, sends a message to Max so that he can get the information from the families and they can be located, it is better to avoid more victims in the tragedy. When he has done so, he approaches the little boy with a friendly smile.

"Hi, what's your name?" He slides into the chair next to him.

"Francis. "

"Nice to meet you, Francis. I'm Pyxis, do you know me?" The boy nods, his eyes sparkling with excitement and fear. "I know you are afraid, I also have fear all the time. "

"Really? But you fight the bad guys and don't panic. "

"Yes, we are scared, but we can't let him beat us or the bad people will win too." At that moment the doctors enter, the boy's mother took a picture of the interaction of the two, much more natural than just posing. "I will keep an eye on you, we will see you when you return. "

Francis is encouraged and says goodbye when nurses and doctors take him to surgery. Pyxis sits for a moment and then gets up, just in time to see the commotion. One of the wounded is transferred to the area where he's located and seeing a pregnant woman with a completely unmade leg is distressing. They don't leave her for long in the area, different doctors come and talk to each other and to the paramedics. It's a distressing little chaos.

"Hi." He leans over to the young woman and places his gloved hand on the bloody reddish hair, reminds her of Nathaniel's and the mental image doesn't help him smile to calm her down. "I know it hurts, I know you're afraid, but the doctors will find a way to help you. "

She barely nods, shedding tears, her gray eyes look almost glass, the blood runs where the tears flow.

"Pyxis, will you allow us?" One of the doctors talks and he nods, walking away. He leaves the care area and watches the small chaos, some family members congregate and two bodies are taken to the hospital morgue.

Since becoming Pyxis there had been no terrorist attack, after Hawkmoth, Paris seemed a little bleak and gray. Tourism had not diminished, but it certainly was not as lively as it had been years before and just when everything seems to be recovering, Akuma and terrorist attack, an incredible combo. It gives he a bad feeling.

__________

Agatha @WhiskyMyLife

Pyxis is in the hospital cheering for the victims and their families. He's quite an angel, absurdly adorable for an adult man with an alpha male voice.

#OwnParisAngel #MTPyxis

Héros parisiens @MTHeroes

Byakko at the Louvre and Pyxis at the hospital. Will Black Metal appear? They are the closest to civilians.

#MTPyxis #MTByakko

_________

While at the MT headquarters, the other members gather around the round table in the main room where the mother computer is located. Max keeps his eyes on every security camera trying to find something, he even rescued the last few hours before the explosion of the corrupted files, maybe it's time to replace the cameras technology and make them connected to the MT database, just someone with the Oracle level of Batman partners could access that data and that would help them more. Max nods to himself by opening a file to start the project, but leave it that way until the current problem is addressed.

"I think the heroes should go too, now that they're back to business. The negative feelings surrounding the situation should be enough to justify their patrolling, as well as generating much more hope than the MT can offer. "Felix speaks after a few minutes.

"Yeah, that will help lower negative emotions. Red Fox, Rakkīgāru and Abeilla, you three will go to patrol the surrounding areas, be on the lookout for any butterflies. We will provide support if any situation arises. "Marinette gives the order and the three mentioned nod, soon, Kagami, Nathaniel and Chloe transform and Kaalki opens a portal for them in front of Notre Dame.

"We'll be watching the communications." Marinette smiles and nods to Kagami, she was just beginning to relax and a terrorist attack happens. The bad part of this is that there is no cure that can save you all, you just have to accept the natural course of life, even if it was caused by someone else.

When they are gone, there are only five left in the room.

Max programs one of the screens to present the international news about what happened, they can't get news about anything related to prodigies outside of France, but since this has nothing to do with it, its broadcast is not prohibited. Among the images they can see Byakko with the officers and as it's live, in the distance they can see the Red Fox figure passing by. So used to running on the rooftops, they know fast routes to move and thanks to the improved skills of the wonders, they come quickly wherever.

Damian frowns, annoyed at having to do nothing, but he can't just complain when faced with such a situation. They have sent all those who can be useful, he would not be for the simple reason that he despises people and doesn't have a good relationship with them. He is aware of the comments, even though just being on two patrols was enough to earn him a reputation as an infamous demon boy. Stupid woman and her sensitive brat.

"If an Akuma appears, we will go except for Sabik and Equuleus, they will stay here and handle the situation from a distance. As long as our new villain doesn't know that the snake is active, the easier it will be for us. Damian, you will join as Thuban for the protection of civilians, Akuma born from such situations are dangerous and we can't trust the miracle cure. "Dealing with civilians, perfect.

"Yes, mother." He sits with his arms crossed, he doesn't like it, but at least they won't leave him relegated to staying with Max and Luka, it would be frustrating, although he understands that their positions are important. He prefers to be in the field and face his enemies head-on. His mother has not even taken him to any of his case investigations, he only goes with Felix and occasionally with Kagami; He can also be useful and even better than them.

"Byakko and Pyxis will maintain positions and, if necessary, help protect civilians. "

Everyone makes some kind of confirmation.

Luka slides into the chair next to Max, slips on the headphones to be part of the connections, and helps check out video from some of the surrounding cameras. The tension is palpable in the room, everyone is silent and there is only an occasional small conversation.

Marinette pulls out her phone and makes a publication, in addition to sending a message to Hugo to take out a certain amount of money and buy medical supplies to be sent to the hospital, in addition to making a donation to families and the city to repair the damage caused by the bomb. Max is also doing his part and a statement of commitment is given for KanTech to replace all cameras in the city with much more advanced ones that help detect artifacts (he has certainly been working on something like that associated with two other companies, including Wayne Tech). Felix says nothing, he's in Romania for everyone and it's not even his city, but he can be supportive considering that his friends and associates are from there. Maybe tomorrow.

_____________

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

It is outrageous that an attack like this happens as we try to recover from the impact of the butterfly's return. I hope the MT catches the one responsible.

Max K. @MaxKan_Tech

I promise to replace every security camera on the streets of Paris for the greater security of my fellow citizens. I will not allow them to catch us off guard again, I will work with the MT and the police for a more adequate follow-up.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

In a few years, Paris will belong to Lenoir. @MarieLenoir will become a @BruceWayneOfficial for Paris. Remember my words, she already has an animal shelter and seven of the fourteen Akuma shelters are funded by her, recently rumors have been heard that Lady Black will also be a wine brand.

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

@Elgato_Solaris She's affiliated with the Graham de Vanily, is a business partner of @KanTech and Sabine & Tom Boulangerie.

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

@Elgato_Solaris She finances two arts schools, one in Paris and the other in Bremen, she's also co-owner of a Spanish publisher (anyone explain this to me?) and has recently started to finance a project for the protection of endangered birds in America.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

@EpicAdventurerHector Our own billionaire philanthropist.

Lalaland @ LaLa-235Vick

@Elgato_Solaris @EpicAdventurerHector Actually, it's estimated that within three years she could enter the 100 richest people in the world, if the rumors of various businesses under the signature of Lady Black are true.

Theo @ ArtisgratiaArts_009

@Elgato_Solaris @EpicAdventurerHector @ LaLa-235Vick Is it really important? They are making it a trend and it's more urgent that victims know our support.

_________

ALERT MONARCH

AKUMA! AKUMA AKUMA! AKUMA!

Location: District VI.

Escape routes: ****

Nearby shelters: ****

Emergency number: ****************

______________________

Marinette wants to hit her head against a wall, she really hoped there wouldn't be an Akuma in the distressing situation, but her hope was in vain. Max quickly locates it through the cameras, at least after the first attack they learned that the Akuma are a white point when infrared vision is activated, luckily, that option was incluided along with the night mode.

"The Akuma is moving toward the Luxembourg Palace, is the senate still in session?"

"Why would the Akuma go to the senate?" Damian questions without understanding, that he knows the Akuma don't lose reasoning, they only focus on the trigger of their negative emotion.

"Maybe he's not going after them, maybe he's just taking it as his route..." Marinette mutters, biting her left thumb, they're following the Akuma's route through satellite cameras. "Well, we will find out. Team, we have an Akuma to face. "

"I'm going to get dressed..." Damian mutters in a bad mood, they are going to transform and leave immediately, he still has to get dressed and will be relegated to taking care of the civilians. Annoying.

Max is watching to see if he begins to use his powers, but he is only moving. It looks like out of a Neon Genesis Evangelion chapter, if someone asks he, as long as it doesn't come up with a biblical name, enough for him. He decides to transform to make transportation easier, especially since Thuban will also have to pass later.

Ladynoir is the first to go through the portal, followed by Jade Shield. The portal closes immediately, only to reopen when Damian appears dressed as Thuban. This time, it opens next to the Church of Saint-Sulpice, since a building was built next to it that serves as a refuge, he runs to the populated sectors to help them, especially if the Akuma decides to attack.

From his location he has a direct view of the Akuma, its size is not very subtle and he wonders what kind of ability it will have. A large golden rhombus flying over Paris is something that easily attracts attention.

Suddenly a chirp is heard that stuns everyone, the children near him start crying from the pain. The screeching is followed by a thick layer of smoke that quickly covers them.

Damian begins to feel airless and in front of him, his biological mother appears.

____________

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

I was calmly watching the news when one appeared about Paris, an terrorist attack after almost ten years without having one. That's not important, were there two vigilantes on screen? Since when does Paris have vigilantes?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD For seven years? I went on vacation to Paris, I was caught in a bank robbery and they appeared, the MT. A group of very cool vigilantes, they are 10 in the team and they only needed two to solve the problem.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ErasmusLS_564 Seriously? It wasn't like bank robberies here, was it?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD It was not the same lvl of insanity, but according to the news these robbers had already robbed large banks in London & Spain without success in their capture. It was incredible to see Suzaku and Corvus destroy the group without wreaking havoc or damage to the plce

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@IAmYisus_XD @ ErasmusLS_564 Can you give us their names? I would like to know more.

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Sure. Women: Suzaku, Seiryuu, Byakko, and Genbu. Men: Black Metal, Caelum, Pyxis and Corvus. Child: Thuban, is the most recent and is a little demon boy according to twitter. He stays close to Suzaku or Corvus, theories say that heis his son

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ ErasmusLS_564 @RoyHarperQ Wasn't they 10?

Little Little Sun @ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Yup. Augur doesn't come out, but we know it's there. He's a kind of sentinel, we know why they communicate with him.

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@IAmYisus_XD @ ErasmusLS_564 Who is the orange fox-like one? He also appeared in the news footage.

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Oh he. I'm not sure of his name, but Paris is quite unique. It's as if Batman and Superman protecting the same city, the vigilantes are in charge of the crimes and the heroes... of the big problem. I can't say more.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ ErasmusLS_564 @RoyHarperQ Heroes and Watchers? What is there? Gotham 2.0?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ No... The city just has its own fun stuff.

__________

If the other identity has not been mentioned, I will not say it. Marie: Ladynoir/Suzaku Felix: Jade Shield/Corvus Chloe: Lady Abeilla/Genbu Alix: Byakko Kagami: Rakkīgāru/Seiryū Nathaniel: Red Fox/Caelum Luka: Sabik/Black Metal Max: Equuleus/Augur Marc: Pyxis Damian: Tunin/Thuban

#maribat #dickinette #dick x marinette #ml x dc

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