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honeymoonjin · 4 years ago

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pairing: namjoon x jimin genre: smut, 18+ readers only word count: 5.1k

summary: namjoon has worked as a bodyguard for an upscale BDSM dungeon for long enough to know that jimin is the most sought-after dom there. it only takes one miscommunication for namjoon to discover firsthand why that is.

warnings: unedited, sexually explicit content, power bottom!jimin, sub top!namjoon, unprotected sex, degradation, light pain play, BDSM dynamics, kinda temperature play, i think that's it but i'm so out of practice so i apologise if i missed something

a/n: this piece came to fruition thanks firstly to the @armyadvocates AAPI Justice and Advocacy initiative, and secondly to the kind commissioner @goldenwallsvol6 on twitter who requested this (i'm so sorry for not including everything you asked for, i got a little carried away kdsjfdssk). please check out the AAPI initiative here, consider donating, and check out the resources that come with it.

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Clocking in to work has become such a routine for Namjoon that he often finds himself switching his brain off, preoccupied with half-thoughts as his body runs on autopilot.

He signs in, uses the staff changing room to replace his sweats with the company standard uniform - a tight t-shirt and slim fit jeans, the belt of which he hooks his keys on. He doesn’t actually start his shift for another couple minutes, and so he ducks to the bathroom, chews a breath mint, and stretches before heading out of the office and down the narrow hallway that leads to the den.

In fact, it takes him a few steps into the dungeon before his automatic schedule is disrupted.

It appears Namjoon is entirely alone in the facility.

His steps, taken with heavy-duty boots, echo around the hollow space with nothing but the walls to absorb them. It’s a Thursday night (he consults his phone just to be sure) and he was on the closing shift. On any usual day, he’d be starting work right at the bustling high of the BDSM dungeon, yet he finds himself wandering alone.

Shaped in a rough X, the center of the dungeon is open-plan, with more private spaces forking off. The wing he’s in is generally full of swingers and kinksters making use of costume changing stations and a room full of cleaning supplies and disposables like condoms or wet wipes. It was always the calmest section, but never dead like this.

In a daze, Namjoon glances inside the rooms anyway, half-expecting the place to burst into life at any given moment. But it stays undisturbed, and in no time he’s in the central atrium, weaving through bolted-down couches, benches and racks until he can sink onto a stool at the bar.

Coherent thought escapes him. His brain flails for a reason, but the absurdity of an entirely vacant sex dungeon has him lost for words. After a moment, in restless futility, he stands back up and goes behind the bar, back further into the mini storage/kitchen that he knows features a window.

Outside the narrow, slightly dusty frame is an empty parking lot. His heart sinks, feeling sorely left behind and out of the loop, but a glint catches his eye. Pressing his nose to the glass, he squints and peeks a somewhat familiar vehicle, pulled into the closest park to the entrance of the dungeon.

Namjoon stares pointedly at the Hyundai, racking his brain. God, who was it that had a-

A wooden scrape from behind has Namjoon jumping in violent fright, catching his forehead on the protruding frame of the window. Cursing, he whirls around and glimpses movement further inside. Another drawn-out scrape is followed by a very human-sounding huff.

Heart still racing, Namjoon makes his way out of the storage area and stands behind the bar, seeking out the presence.

“Oh, shit, you gave me a heart attack!” Park Jimin stands off to the left of the room, hands on his hips and head tilted back in relief. “I thought you were a burglar.”

“No,” Namjoon states redundantly, mouth not quite working beyond that. He knew he recognised that silver SUV - every Thursday he watched Jimin hop into it and pull away after a long night of scening. The two had exchanged words often, more than Namjoon could say for most patrons. Being the bouncer for a sex dungeon didn’t lead to that much genuine conversation, but he always appreciated the effort Jimin would put in, hair wet with sweat and lips curved with happy exhaustion but still asking Namjoon if he’d managed to work out whether it was birds or the neighbour’s cat eating his strawberry plants.

He forces himself to check back into the present when current-Jimin cocks his head with a slightly sheepish grin, awaiting an actual explanation. “I, um,” Namjoon stutters, having to avert his eyes to construct anything coherent, “I didn’t realise the club was shut, I’m honestly a little confused.”

Jimin’s smile drops, plush lips rounding in surprise. “Oh, really? Hoseok-hyung said he sent out emails to all the staff. There was a pipe leak so we called off our whole calender until Monday. Did you not get it? We’ve had troubles with work emails getting stuck in spam; something about a sex dungeon really seems to set off the detectors,” the man quips with a jovial lift of his brow.

Namjoon bites down on his tongue, offering up a silent nod of acknowledgement. He’d seen Jimin more times than he could count in black, red, royal purple. In the club he favoured leather, not buckled and studded but sleek and tight, often decorating his lithe body with harnesses, gauntlets and heavy rings instead. More often than not, he’d boast unsmudgable smokey eyes with sharp liner, cheekbones as harsh as they were dewy. It had taken a while, but Namjoon had eventually grown used to the sight, able to prevent chubbing up at the mere sight of his ass as he bent to open his car door.

For some reason, seeing him outside of that whole persona is far more intimidating. Still covered in a light sheen of sweat, that’s the only linker to the Jimin Namjoon is faced with today. He’s got chunky white sneakers weighing down his feet, long overalls rolled up at the cuffs to let some air reach his ankles. The overalls prove particularly problematic to Namjoon, as they don’t seem to have anything underneath. Namjoon can see collarbones, glorious collarbones, and the lean bare sides of Jimin’s torso. If he bent over, Namjoon would probably get a glimpse of his nipples. The thought dampens his mouth with need.

Jimin himself seems unaware of, or at least unbothered by, the way Namjoon stares him down. Instead, he reaches down to push a cardboard box as tall as his waist across the hardwood floor closer to the bar one shove at a time. “Anyway, you’re welcome to head home. I’ll get Hoseok to add half an hour to your payslip for your troubles.”

“What are you doing here then?” Namjoon asks reflexively, cringing at how loud he’s accidentally pitched his voice.

Jimin’s face is surprisingly round without the stroke of makeup to emphasise dimensions, and when he beams at Namjoon, it softens his whole face even more. “I’m taking advantage of us being closed to install some new furniture. D’you wanna see?” He seems to reconsider, shooting Namjoon a worried look. “It is sex stuff, though.”

“I wasn’t expecting a bookshelf,” he answers honestly, and is rewarded with the bubbling sound of Jimin’s laughter, drowned out prematurely by another shove of the box. “Here,” Namjoon says suddenly, darting out from behind the bar, “let me help.”

At first, Jimin pushes while Namjoon pulls, but after a few grunts of exertion, steps back and lets Namjoon take over, not disguising the way his eyes linger on the way Namjoon’s biceps and pecs flex under his t-shirt sleeve. Obediently, Namjoon lets the bleach-blonde guide him to an open space near the centre of the room, depositing the weighty box there.

With a satisfied hum and a lingering glance at Namjoon’s body, Jimin bends over with a pen from his pocket, using the nib to pop and rip the tape on the box lid, yanking back the flaps with ferocious enthusiasm. He lets out a delighted cry upon lifting a frame of styrofoam out of the box, revealing the goods inside.

One at a time, he takes out oddly-shaped plates of metal, plastic baggies of bolts and screws, and some rubber caps. Kicking the empty box away, Jimin slots his hands back on his hips and grins at Namjoon. “Can you guess what it is?”

Namjoon takes a moment to consider the different sections of stainless steel. The largest isn’t flat, but a rectangle with a slight curve to it, the gentlest arc. The rest come in mirrored pairs, most just for structure, but four of them featuring heavy-duty O-rings. Though he works outside the play area, Namjoon can guess what those are for. “Something for bondage?” he ventures, stomach flipping when Jimin eyes glint with thinly veiled interest.

“A breeding bench,” Jimin explains, squatting to let his fingers trail down the side of one bar, “the metal feels sterile and cold for those that like it. Have you used one before?”

Namjoon feels unsteady on his feet. “No,” he answers, but the softness in his voice betrays his lack of aversion to the thought. But Jimin might think he was a dominant, too, Namjoon worries. Everyone else tended to. “Not yet,” he adds after a moment.

Jimin sucks in a silent but sharp breath, chin lifting. “I could use a hand setting it up. Would you mind…?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, no problem.” Namjoon tries to clear his throat, but the lump of anticipation remains. “Happy to help.”

“Excellent,” the dom beams, fishing around the pieces of styrofoam to locate the printed instructions, handing them to Namjoon. As Namjoon begins to make sense of them, looking over the basic diagrams, Jimin sits down on a nearby ottoman, intended for viewing the other stations, but continuing to face his new help instead. “I’ve been wanting to get to know you more anyway,” he divulges in a honeyed tone.

“Really?” Namjoon glances up from the instructions, feeling the heat of Jimin’s gaze. Even in worn overalls and unstyled hair, the man strikes a gorgeous image, and his posture screams distinguished dominant down to the curl of his fingers. His mere presence has Namjoon feeling off-balance in the most electric way. “There’s not much to know.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Jimin replies immediately, deadpan. “Why are you standing outside every night when you’re just as kinky as those of us indoors?”

“Excuse me?”

Jimin leans forward, legs splayed wide and elbows on his knees. His eyes are intently focused, blazing. “For a while it drove me crazy,” he starts, “you looked so familiar. I saw you every evening and couldn’t put my finger on it. But you used to scene here, didn’t you? Years ago.”

Namjoon’s heart stops beating, sitting heavy behind his ribs instead. “You- You’re not meant to approach people you know from the dungeon outside. It’s against the rules.”

“We aren’t outside,” Jimin counters. “I want to know why you stopped. You don’t look happy, Namjoon, seeing others come and go while you’re stuck to your post. Help me understand.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Namjoon stays silent, opening his mouth seeming too daunting a task. After a moment, Jimin swallows hard and sits back again, giving up the inquisition. Namjoon chooses to continue the task at hand, consulting the instructions.

The bench itself is a relatively simple setup. There’s two long cuts of steel in an X below the main panel for stability, four legs with the O-ring bars at either end, and the rubber caps on the bottom to avoid scratching the floor. As he putters around with the nuts and bolts, using a tiny spanner provided in the baggies to tighten them, he feels Jimin’s curious gaze on him. Silent.

Eventually, the silence has its desired effect, and Namjoon lets his internal thoughts vocalise. “I played here for a while. My partner and I ended up going our separate ways, and I wanted to give him space.” He doesn’t make eye contact, pulse thudding and heating the pieces of metal he fiddles with.

Jimin takes a short moment to reply, but it feels cavernous. “It’s been years, then. Hasn’t he had enough space yet?”

Namjoon’s eye twitches. How many nights had he stayed up with that exact question in mind? “It doesn’t feel right anymore. People would know me for who I was then. And I’m- I’m not that person.” His partner, an eager sub with a need for a firm hand, had asked Namjoon one day if he was sure he was really happy being a dom, and it had entirely dismantled the place in BDSM that he’d cultivated for himself. That sub was right, and he didn’t know how to adjust his course to fit his true desire.

So he’d pulled away entirely, unable to fully leave this world, but unsure of whether it still had a spot for him inside it. He just wants to feel what it’s like to let go in the way his subs did. And as his hands focus on constructing the heavyset bench, his mind wanders deeper in this vein, loose-lipped enough to confess it all to Jimin.

Jimin listens without judgement, not even seeming surprised when Namjoon admits to feeling more submissive, and the lack of reaction is liberating in a way he couldn’t have expected.

It’s not until the final bolt is fastened in place and Namjoon leans back, slightly breathless, that Jimin stands up and approaches him again. He crouches in front of Namjoon, eyes tender and hesitant, reaching out a hand.

Confused, Namjoon holds his out, palm-up, and Jimin takes it carefully, circling his fingers around the narrowest part of his wrist. Still, it’s too meaty for Jimin’s fingertips to connect. He squeezes lightly, carefully, before locking his gaze with Namjoon again, who swears he’s no longer breathing.

“Do you want to try?” Jimin asks. His voice is low, soft but full-bodied. “Do you want to try to let go? Club rules would apply.”

And Namjoon is nodding, and the grip on his wrist is tightening, restraining, and Jimin’s surging forward, lips on his.

His free hand comes up to hook around the nape of Namjoon’s neck. He’s held there, unforgiving, as the dom deepens the kiss. There’s no space between them, just skin on skin, tongue on tongue. It’s uncoordinated on Namjoon’s part, but so calculated and thorough on Jimin’s, like he knows the exact way to unwind him.

Jimin’s fingers scratch up into Namjoon’s hairline. He’d been growing out the length a little for winter, just enough to cover his ears, and it provides leverage for Jimin to grip on and tug, tug, tug in sharp bursts, timed unevenly enough that Namjoon is never ready. Every pull sends an electric shock down his spine, right between his legs.

He’s hard already, achingly so, and it just worsens when Jimin shifts his weight, bringing a foot forward and over Namjoon’s thigh, half-caging his body flush against his.

Jimin’s body is hot, even through the denim overalls and searing when it’s skin-on-skin. Namjoon can hear himself panting when their mouths split apart briefly, but he can’t stop his head from spinning long enough to care.

Before long, a rumbling growl escapes Jimin’s throat, and his teeth find Namjoon’s lower lip, scraping and nipping at the flesh. It’s not until Namjoon’s hand is shaking in Jimin’s grip that he pulls away, eyes wild and alight.

Namjoon must look utterly debauched, with swollen lips, hazy eyes and rucked-up hair, but his cock is screaming to be touched, and his breaths become infused with pleas for more, begging Jimin to touch him.

“God, you greedy little thing,” Jimin remarks in wonder, and a shudder takes over Namjoon’s body. Jimin quirks a brow. “Good? Bad? I don’t know what you like.”

“Good,” Namjoon insists without shame, “oh my god, good. Say m-more like that.”

Jimin hums with a grin, hand on Namjoon’s neck slipping around front to fist his shirt, yanking it suddenly. “Up, then,” he barks, standing himself, “I want you on the bench you built for me. Thank God that body is good for something; it’s not much fucking use now, is it?”

Namjoon’s breath leaves him in a rush, and he gets up shakily, almost tripping over his own feet as he lowers himself back down on the end of the bench. It’s chillingly cold even through his jeans, and he trembles at the thought of touching it with bare skin. Jimin has no such qualms, however, planting his palm on Namjoon’s chest and pushing him backwards, insistently guiding him down without knocking his head on the metal.

His teeth chatter briefly, but it’s nothing compared to when Jimin clicks his tongue and reaches down to strip the thin fabric of his t-shirt off with one fell swoop, the stitches breaking as they’re forced over the broadest part of his shoulders.

Ice erupts across his back and he gasp, shooting up. Jimin’s hand prevents him from getting far, and his breathing grows loud and sharp, shivering violently as his body fights to warm up the steel. The slight arch of it slots perfectly into the divot of his spine, meaning every inch is flush against him.

“You stay where I put you,” Jimin scolds, flicking at a nipple in punishment. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? You, lying here, asking to be degraded by somebody half your size? Pathetic. You’re lucky I’m a giving man.”

“Th-thank you,” Namjoon offers up with wide eyes. He doesn’t know the protocol, doesn’t even know how he should be acting as a sub, let alone as a sub for Jimin. He can barely believe the situation he’s ended up in, but he’s never felt so alive. The cold steel is a wakeup call to sluggish veins, his blood rushing faster than ever, most of it going straight to his dick.

Jimin huffs like he’s not quite pleased with the response - even as his eyes crinkle and glint with satisfaction - and simply hooks a finger into the waistband of Namjoon’s jeans, frowning. “Can’t even get undressed yourself. For goodness’ sake.”

Namjoon’s cheeks burn, and he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling so overwhelmed. Though it was years ago, the habit of being in control hasn’t left him, and part of him feels anxious being so vulnerable. Closing his eyes eases that, and Jimin lets him, briefly reaching up to give his upper arm a squeeze, a lilting hum asking the unworded question.

“I’m okay,” he breathes to the darkness behind his eyelids, and the squeeze returns before Jimin straightens up again, fingers yanking impatiently at Namjoon’s jeans, undoing them and yanking them off, taking his briefs with them.

The new level of nudity sends another shock of cold to his system, but this time Namjoon welcomes it with a groan, tilting his hips up so that his cock rests on his lower stomach. His fingers twitch, aching to wrap around himself.

His desire is answered, not with the delicious grip of fingers, but with the hard press of the heel of Jimin’s palm, pinning his hardness down without mercy. A moan dies in Namjoon’s throat as his body tries to curl inwards. A second hand holds him down still, leaving him unable to escape the heavy pressure.

He pants, writhing and toes curling, but Jimin just sighs softly, like he’s more relaxed than ever. “Such a waste,” he drawls, his voice blooming with all the flourishes of a Disney villain, “wanting to be treated like a slut, but what am I getting out of this? Hm?”

“U-uh-” Namjoon has no idea what to say, cracking his eyes open to seek out the comfort of acknowledgement above the level of the scene. His breath is taken away at the sight. Jimin, above him like an avenging angel, golden-haired and glittering with sweat, still fully clothed (as fully as you could call a single piece of denim). He finds Namjoon’s searching gaze and sends him a calm, dreamy smile of encouragement, before twisting his palm against the base of Namjoon’s dick, wringing a strangled groan out of the man. “You can take me,” he pants, filled with the urge to provide, to serve, “take what you want.”

Jimin tilts his head to the side, like this proposition is worth considering. As he makes a show of pondering, he taps his fingers lazily against his cock’s dripping head. Namjoon swallows the whimpers that threaten to bubble up, and forces his hips not to budge. “I’ll be honest with you,” Jimin says finally, “because you don’t deserve sugar-coating. If I was here with a fleshlight or a dildo, I would’ve come already. You’re wasting my precious time, sweet boy. I don’t want you to lay here and simper, I want you to be a good toy for me. So what’s it gonna be?”

Namjoon’s muscles are trembling; from his lips to his toes, he feels like he’s vibrating slightly, restless down to the very atoms that make him up. Jimin is patient, lazily drawing sticky patterns of precum on Namjoon’s abdomen with his pinky finger. Namjoon fights against the primal part of his brain for something coherent, replaying his words. Fleshlight or dildo. Be a good toy. Jimin was offering him the choice to top or bottom, Namjoon realises, and his cock twitches, feeling liberated and thoroughly taken apart with that heady mix of submission and power. He was giving control to Jimin, but never losing his choices.

For a moment, he does consider what it might feel like to let Jimin take him. He’d never bottomed before - at least not for anyone but his own fingers in his experimental years - but if anyone could make him feel safe, he suspected it would be the dom leaning over him. It’s once he really thinks about it that he knows he’s not ready, a thin strand of dread winding around his lungs that won’t go away until he’s stammering to Jimin that he can have Namjoon’s cock if he wants it.

Jimin sucks in a slow, pleased breath, a smile curling at his lips as he lays the weight of Namjoon’s length across the palm of his hand, looking it over. The chill of the steel beneath him is nothing compared to the iced shiver that runs through him upon being inspected in his most private area. Second most private, he corrects. Baby steps.

“I suppose,” Jimin declares finally with a sigh, “this should do. Not winning any awards, though, is it?” Namjoon’s cheeks burn with shame at the comment even as his face scrunches up in disagreement. If there was one thing to be proud of physically, it was that he could always bring his partners pleasure with the equipment he grew into.

Jimin sees the unfiltered reaction on Namjoon’s face and suddenly claps his free hand over his mouth, turning away. The giggle, impish and delicate, doesn’t get as muffled as he probably intended. “Dammit,” he mumbles, “stop being funny, that’s not fair.”

Namjoon blinks, still stark naked and hard as rock beneath the clothed and chuckling dom. “...Apologies,” he says after a pause, “but do you want to- um- are we-”

“Sorry, sorry,” Jimin says, clearing his throat and wiggling the muscles in his cheek to force the smile down. His fingers reach nimbly for the straps that hold his set of overalls on, and undresses down to skin as he takes some deep breaths as if to hype himself back into character. Once he’s done, he swings a leg over the metal bench and straddles Namjoon’s thighs with a swiftness that takes his breath away.

While it may take Jimin a second to slip back into his dom headspace after the break in mood, all Namjoon needs is the feeling of Jimin’s plump ass cheeks settling onto hs lap and he’s being smacked in the face with submission, ready to beg to feel it more intimately.

Jimin doesn’t wait for him to beg, however, rolling his body forward and down, all the way until their cocks are pinned together between their stomachs, and their noses bump. Close enough to kiss, Jimin stays right there, a breath away, and Namjoon freezes, unsure if he’s allowed to close the gap.

Pleased with the restraint shown, Jimin smirks, eyes wandering over Namjoon’s face in pure bemusement, slightly cross-eyed with their proximity. “Most toys can’t kiss back,” he mentions, a hand sliding up Namjoon’s forearm and shoulder to thumb at his jaw, tilting his head back and holding it in place, “so I figure I might as well treat myself.”

“Most?” is the final worried exclamation Namjoon manages to get out before lips are descending on his, and heat erupts.

There’s no way Namjoon could keep up. Not when his face is pressed tightly to Jimin’s, lips nipped at, tongue sucked at, and mouth thoroughly explored. Not when every inch of his front is pressed to Jimin’s, the latter’s nipples hard against the soft, relaxed flesh of Namjoon’s chest. Not when he becomes aware of slow rocking, Jimin grinding their cocks together.

It takes him an unknowable eternity of this to realise that the slow, indulgent groans passed between them aren’t all his, and that Jimin’s shifting motions are brought on by the way he’s reached behind himself with a finger slick with their shared spit, working himself open.

It’s that realisation that becomes the last straw for any of Namjoon’s reserves. He feels so - so passive, not even prepping the man who’s about to take his cock. He’s lying on unforgiving steel, body used as a grinding post and mouth deeply plundered, just a mindless toy, dumbed down to pleasure and need. He isn’t even really aware of his own body where Jimin isn’t touching it; he isn’t too sure where in space his hands are, or what his feet are doing. His lips are for Jimin and his cock is for Jimin and that’s enough to make him light-headed.

When Jimin sits up, Namjoon grunts a bit and fights for some clarity to help line himself up against Jimin’s awaiting body, but the dom just tuts and rebuffs the advances, suiting himself. Part of his weight is on Namjoon’s right shoulder as he props himself up, slowly bearing the rest down so that the head of Namjoon’s cock pushes inside.

The moan that leaves Jimin’s mouth is enough to make Namjoon’s bones shake, wishing he could hear it on repeat, and the dom certainly seems to be doing his best to make it a reality with the enthusiastic way he works his hips down in tight circles, clenching around the intrusion.

Namjoon feels like he’s floating, the hard edges of steel no longer grounding him. He doesn’t lift his hands up to hold onto Jimin, he doesn’t fuck up into him, he’s barely even looking at him with how low his eyes are lidded, but there’s liberation in that inaction.

The pressure to perform is entirely lifted, and he feels the pleasure twofold, once from his own sensation and then again like an echo with every sigh and groan that leaves Jimin’s lips.

The dom has the stamina of an athlete, lifting a leg up onto the metal base beside Namjoon’s hips to gain better leverage, and Namjoon has a front row seat to the way the muscles in Jimin’s thighs flex. They’re corded and thick, such an erotic contrast to the softness of his ass, and Namjoon feels drunk off of it.

He lets Jimin take what he wants, and he feels, and that’s all.

He doesn’t even think, not really, nothing deeper than mindless observation.

Jimin is beautiful, like nobody he’d seen before, and the lack of makeup and unstyled hair certainly doesn’t change that. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and that he’s sharing this experience with Namjoon. He sits up, leaning backwards with a hand on Namjoon’s knee instead of his shoulder, and the first time he plunges down, his whole body is wracked with a violent tremor.

“I’m close,” he pants outs, eyes flicking down to Namjoon, a lazy grin appearing momentarily, onto to be knocked off by an expression of pure euphoria as he swaps the bouncing out for grinding. He rocks his hips back and forth, Namjoon buried deeply inside, and seeks out his own end irrelevant of the body that cock belongs to.

Namjoon doesn’t care, loves the near out-of-body experience he’s having, and wills the pleasure to simmer long enough for Jimin to come first.

When Jimin gets really close, he loses some of the fluidity in his movements and becomes jagged, seizing up more and more until he’s stock still, breaths staccato and mouth wide open. The physical release follows soon after, and Namjoon shudders as hot white paints the underside of his chin and his chest.

Jimin has a hand around himself, tugging out every last drop as he sucks in desperate lungfuls of air, slowly curling in on himself until his burning forehead is on Namjoon’s shoulder. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, chest heaving.

Namjoon reaches his end without even noticing. The pleasure throughout his whole body is so electric that an orgasm is barely a notch higher, more so a spreading warmth throughout his body. Wet where Jimin’s still joined to him, and damp everywhere else with perspiration, but it’s blissful nonetheless.

Jimin heaves himself back upright after a brief interlude, brows furrowed as he glances down at Namjoon. “Did you- oh,” he remarks, shifting a little and seeing the cum that’s split around the base of Namjoon’s cock. He lets out a deep sigh, eyes slipping closed for a moment as he tips his head back. “Okay, bye-bye dom.”

Namjoon’s mind slips back into awareness at a snail’s pace, feeling first the way his throat has dried up a little and his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth. Then his voice comes back to him, and he coughs a little, blinking up at the dom above him. “Does dom have a return date by chance? That was… fucking incredible,” he admits.

Jimin laughs, the action causing him to clench around Namjoon. With playful fingers, he reaches down and lightly pinches the fat of Namjoon’s cheeks. “You’re too cute,” he declares, before lifting himself up and off, clicking his tongue at the rush of wetness that drips down his legs. “Far out, it’s like you haven’t nutted in a year.”

Namjoon feels his cheeks heat against his best intentions. “That’s just normal.”

Jimin sends him a sharp look, searching his face. “Holy fuck,” he muses, stalking over to the nearest station to raid a small drawer of wet wipes, “and you’ve been letting that beast sit out in the cold every night instead of coming in here? Masochist.”

It takes all the energy left in his body to sit up, but Namjoon gratefully accepts a fresh wad of wipes and begins to clean himself off. “The beast doesn’t pay the bills,” he quips, already feeling more casual with Jimin after their intense shared experience.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to enjoy its company on your free time,” Jimin offers up, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze with what appears to be a shy streak as he dresses himself.

Namjoon smiles, appreciating the gorgeous sight of Jimin’s body before he covers up. Appreciating even more the way he feels so comfortable in his presence, enough to let go the way he did. “I’d like that.”

#armyadvocatesaapi #minjoon smut #dom jimin #sub namjoon #bts smut

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tohellandbackanthology · 4 years ago

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WE FINISHED SHIPPING OUT ALL PHYSICAL ORDERS (and other important info about your package)!

Hi guys! That’s right! On June 19th, we officially wrapped up packing more than 800 orders of To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology and immediately got drunk and partied actually we just talked about the impossible housing market in Vancouver. Barring three orders which were still missing phone numbers, by now everybody else should’ve received a tracking number with their book on the way!

While we’re relieved that one of the hardest parts of the job is now done and over with, we know that our project is still far from over. With that in mind, we’d like to outline some important info via this handy FAQ about what to look out for as you wait for your package to arrive.

**When are digital books shipping out?**

Right now! As promised, now that we’ve finished shipping all physical books, we’re now switching our focus to digital copies. Please do note that we’ll be shipping digital books in batches, so not everybody is going to get their book at the same time. Why are we doing this? Because sometimes emails bounce and we want to make sure we catch those when they happen. By sending the books out in batches, we can better keep track of these issues.

We will be sending out digital books in the following order: Indiegogo/Big Cartel digital-only backers first, and then everybody else. We feel this order is fair because those of you who didn’t order a physical book have now been waiting a long time and we want to be sure you receive your books at the same time as people begin receiving their physical copies in the mail.

We aim to complete shipping all digital books no later than July 11, but we are working fast in the hopes of finishing by July 5th.

**I didn’t receive my tracking number!**

We had multiple checks in place to ensure that we covered every order*** so if you didn’t get an email from Canada Post, please check your junk/spam folder and see if your email might have landed there. If it’s not there either, please message us at [email protected] and we’ll resend you your tracking number. It’s always possible that there might’ve been a typo in the email address that we had on file for you, and if that was the case, then the email containing your tracking number wouldn’t have reached you. That said, even if Canada Post’s email didn’t reach you, you should have received an email from Indiegogo or Big Cartel also indicating your tracking number as we inputted tracking info into these sites too!

*** A select few packages don’t have tracking numbers. If you purchased a tier that was a merch + E-book combo on Indiegogo (“I’d Rather Have You”; “Cursed or Not”; “I Always Come When You Call”) and live outside Canada and the United States, it was unfortunately not possible for us to generate a mailing label with a tracking number because your parcel was too small. Instead, please keep an eye on your mailbox. Your envelope parcel should reach you within 4-6 weeks.

**The only thing my tracking number says is ELECTRONIC INFORMATION SUBMITTED BY SHIPPER :( When will Canada Post pick up my package?**

All orders were picked up by Canada Post on June 21, 2021. If your tracking still doesn’t show ITEM PICKED UP BY CANADA POST, contact us immediately so we can figure out what’s going on.

**My package didn’t arrive! It says ITEM BEING RETURNED TO SENDER! Help!**

Please contact us IMMEDIATELY if this happens so that we can reroute your package before it’s too late. If the package is returned to us, we get charged for its shipping. Then subsequently shipping has to be paid again to resend it to you! That’s 3x shipping and it’s not good, for either us or you! Please don’t delay a second if this happens. Tell us right away because we are determined to get it back to you! In the words of @justholdingstill, “Over my dead body are they sending it back to us.”

**When will I receive my package?**

From the point that your tracking displays the message Item picked up by Canada Post, you can expect that:

Canadians will generally receive their packages within 2-4 days, but it can be up to 7 days for remote regions.

Americans will generally receive their packages within 10-14 days. This includes Guam and Puerto Rico.

All other countries will receive their packages within 4-12 weeks, but we have noticed that these packages are coming WAY faster than that, usually within 2 weeks. Down below is a breakdown of how quickly certain countries have received their fastest package:

Argentina: 15 days

Finland: 8 days

Germany: 10 days

Italy: 16 days

Mexico: 10 days

Norway: 18 days

Russia: 15 days

United Kingdom: 21 days but so far, this seems to be an exception—only one package has arrived as of today.

All other countries: No package has reached its destination yet that we know of

**I have my tracking number but it’s not showing any movement! Is my package lost?**

Canadians and Americans should have regular updates to their tracking information every couple of days, but please be patient—things happen, packages get rerouted, or sometimes have to sit for a little bit in customs or a sorting facility before moving on to their final destination.

Likewise for our international backers, you will most likely get regular updates to your tracking information until your package leaves Canada. At this point, you will receive the following notification: International item being forwarded to destination country. From this point onward, you won’t receive any updates to your tracking information for a long time. This is completely normal and it just means that your book is on a boat making its way to your country. After it arrives on shore, you may or may not get more tracking notifications—it will depend on how the next carrier processes your order. In general, for all the international countries that have received packages so far, they have had full tracking upon reaching shore.

**When is my package considered lost? What should I do then? How much time do I have to contact you?**

Canadians should wait 14 days from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

Americans (including Guam and Puerto Rico) should wait 21 days from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

All other nationalities should wait 12 weeks from the day that their package is picked up by Canada Post before contacting us (unless your tracking says that it’s returning to sender, in which case contact us IMMEDIATELY so that we can reroute your package!).

Please don’t contact us before that. We won’t be able to help you earlier than this. We have to talk to Canada Post about your parcel and they won’t take further steps until the waiting period is over.

When you contact us, please give us the following information via email at [email protected]:

Your full name

Your shipping address

Your shipping phone number

Your shipping email

Let us know where you’re an Indiegogo or Big Cartel backer

You have four weeks to contact us after the ‘package-is-officially-lost’ date. For example, if your book was picked up by Canada Post on June 1 and your home address is in a country other than the United States or Canada, you will wait 12 weeks to see if your package arrives. In this example, your package is officially considered lost on September 1. You have four weeks to let us know. In this example, you have until October 1 to tell us that your package is lost. If you tell us after October 1, unfortunately we can’t help you! We have a timeline in place for the official end date of our project and this deadline helps keep us on track to donate our remaining funds to our charity of choice, Wish Vancouver, in a timely manner. Not to mention we’ll be selling off our extra books and if you take too long to contact us, there might not be any remaining books for you to have a replacement!

**My tracking says that my package was delivered but I can’t find it!**

We encourage you first and foremost to ask your neighbours and anybody else who lives with you or around you to see if they might have received it for you. Please also contact your postal service to see if they might have held it for you at the post office. Finally, please keep an eye on your tracking and please try your absolute best to be there to receive it so that there is no chance of your package being stolen. If your tracking information declares that it was delivered, we consider it delivered on our end too and as much as we would like to help you, we’re not a business and as such, our funds are limited and we can’t be responsible for stolen packages. If your package does get stolen though, please let us know and we’ll talk to Canada Post regardless. All our books are insured and if Canada Post agrees to pay the insurance amount, we’ll put aside a book for you from our extras sale. You will still be responsible for paying the full amount of shipping. If Canada Post denies the insurance amount, we can still put a book aside for you but you will have to pay the full amount of the book and shipping.

**Have any other questions that come to mind?**

As always, please don’t hesitate to shoot us a message! We always strive to get back to you within 48 hours or less, but please note that justholdingstill, casthewise, and pray4jensen/60r3d0m are heading out on a mini vacation to Vancouver Island from June 30 to July 4 so you might not hear from us as promptly at that time! Unfortunately we won’t have cell service or WiFi.

Aside from this, thank you again for your patience and support. We can’t wait to see photos of your books (and shelves and pets and plants!). Be sure to tag us when you do post!

With love,

Your TH+B mods

#admin: 60r3d0m #admin: pray4jensen #announcement #tohellandbackanthology

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roll-da-credits · 4 years ago

Text

Lycoris Radiata Pt. 3 - Deku x Reader -

Inspired by the piano piece, "Lycoris Radiata," Written by Spikes, played by MusicalBasics.

Highly recommend listening to it whilst reading.

[1] [2] [3]

Word Count: 1.7k

When a childhood love shows up after being lost to time, it's unnerving to be presented by something so familiar yet different. Deku, lost to his own love and presented with the stresses of life and unrequited love, it isn't easy to see the world with an unbiased gaze.

!WARNING!

(This is for the entire series and not just this part)

BIG TW for death, suicide, abuse,

Minor TW for death imagery, toxic relationship, toxic friendship, toxic shit all around

A/n: First off, this last part, please read with caution. There are a lot of serious topics in this one that can be triggering to some people. This feels really weird to post ngl, I was actually planning on posting the entire thing in 1 part but it was ridiculously long and the pacing was so incredibly slow. After editing it down and proofreading, I'm extremely proud and glad I made it a 3 parter. So, again, read with caution, enjoy the story, and I hope you cried.

Imagery used:

Snapdragon seed pods, red snapdragons, red spider lilies

He came to your café a little bit more often now, there was a fear inside of him that he wouldn’t be able to save you either.

He didn’t know from what, where, or when. But after the two innocent girl’s life was taken away from them just because they were in the wrong situation. He felt a little bit paranoid at your own safety.

But almost every time he inquired you to get extra precautions, your boyfriend would always assure Deku that you were safe with him. And Deku trusted him.

Deku would constantly talk to you about whatever topic came into his mind, he wanted to talk to you more and love you even more even if it hurt him. Call him a masochist he didn’t care, love to him was a drug he couldn’t get enough of, even if that very thing giving him so much love can’t receive it from him, because you were receiving it from someone else.

His pink tinted eyes now growing red from the sheer amount of love he had for you. It grew cloudy and red, to the point where he found everything you do close to perfect.

He saw you as a beautiful goddess.

As the days slowly change from Summer to Fall, he saw more of the red flowers he found in the cemetery growing near your café.

When he asked you if you wanted to get rid of them, you laughed and brushed it off with what he thinks was a sly smile.

He wanted to believe that you actually started blooming them around the café since you knew he found them fascinating. Of course, there was no proof to this theory of his, but something Deku liked to do was a dream, and right now he dreamt of you giving hints of your love.

Then one day, he walked by the café just as it was closing on his way home and found your boyfriend yelling at you. You yelled back at him in retaliation and brought your hand up, only to get it caught by your boyfriend. For the first time, Deku finally saw how tight his grip was when he was mad.

He was sure it was going to leave a bruise on your skin. But he didn’t want to interfere.

When your boyfriend left, he finally revealed himself and comforted you. He told himself he was doing this not because he liked you but because you were his friend. He asked you what the argument was about but you looked up at him and smiled.

There was something weird about your smile, something he couldn’t quite place.

“It’s fine. He broke up with me.” Your smile didn’t match the tone of your cracking voice, and he had to stop himself from tightening his grip on you when you pushed him slightly away and begun walking back home.

He saw the red flowers around you bloom brighter than they ever had before, and he thought if it was a sign from her subconscious asking him to prod further. But he won’t, he can’t.

His rose gaze along with the sweet image he has of your boyfriend prevented him from going further.

After all, he was a hero, he knows best when to prod further. Even if he was biased in the situation.

Deku looked at his phone and found his text messages unanswered and ignored. He had just gotten accepted to UA, he wants to share the news with you.

But you had moved out from your parents’ house to go live alone in a different city with the school of your dreams. He confirmed this by asking your parents, though they did seem slightly worried over you he expected that of such caring parents. He thinks it was just because you were finally living alone.

But he wasn’t sure why there were so many unanswered texts, why you had completely left his life.

He felt his heart crashing into a million pieces.

It took him a rather long time to get over you. An even longer time to forget about the lasting memories of you.

On his daily run in UA just after getting into his 2nd year, on the road, he found a red snapdragon flower. It was radiant and beautiful. For a split second he got reminded of you, and your strange love for red flowers, though he thought it was just due to your unique quirk.

Not wanting to feel any more pain towards the coming memories, he dropped the flower and continued on his jog.

For some reason, he chose the exact same route the next day, this time he found the snapdragon dried and dead. The seed pods in the fallen stem were terrifying. They looked like miniature skulls and he shivered at the thought of something so beautiful being able to die so quickly.

Finally reaching his third year, he readied himself to become a fully-fledged hero as it was just a year away.

He found himself re-living some of his old memories though, Bakugou had asked him to go back to the forest they used to play as a child. It was his way of apologizing to Deku after all the years of torment.

In their path, they found a red camelia tree. The flowers were beautiful and Deku again thought of you.

Just in cue, Bakugou laughed, “Remember when I made Y/n cry because I smashed one?” Deku laughed at the thought but Bakugou grew quiet, “You know, they never respond to my texts ever again. I never told you that, but we stayed close even after I began bullying you. At the time I didn’t see them as a worthless quirkless person like you.”

Deku rolled his eyes, “Thank you Kaachan.” He said rather passive-aggressively.

“No that wasn’t my point, my point is when you told me they disappeared from your life they disappeared from mine as well.”

Deku shook his eyes, forcing the memories back down, “I don’t want to remember it Kaachan, you know I had the biggest crush on them. They must’ve found better people now.”

Deku pushed the memories down and didn’t let them resurface.

After all, if he was to become a hero, he couldn’t have old memories dragging him down. Even if it meant denying he still had feelings for you.

Deku checked his phone repeatedly.

20 unanswered texts, 10 unanswered calls since last week.

Fear bubbled up in his stomach.

What if you decided to leave him behind once again???

What does Deku do when he was stressed?

Drown himself in work.

He opened his laptop and begun reading and replying to hundreds of emails, even reading a lot of spam emails from his admirers. One did catch his eye though.

It was filled with videos. He opened it and from the thumbnails of the videos immediately grew even more panicked.

He clicked on one and watched through it. His eyes widened and fear washed over him like a tide in the sea.

He clicked on another one hoping his hunch wasn’t through.

He clicked on another and another.

He finally accepted it.

All of the videos you sent to him were your recordings of weekly diary entries in the form of video. Each of them you were covered in bruises, tear-stained cheeks, and ragged breathing. Your desperate pleas of not being able to break up with your boyfriend.

He quickly realized your boyfriend was not who he said he was, and that all his actions were just acted. He was a manipulative son of a bitch who trapped you in his spider web. He was the spider stringing a beautiful butterfly in his web. Slowly but surely wrapping you in silk, trapping you, suffocating you.

When he finally finished the last one he quickly ran towards your place. Begging to whatever god there was that you were safe.

“Did you know Izuku?”

Your words in the video echoed in his mind as he ran and ran.

“The flower you gave me were actually Red Spider Lilies.”

He lived rather far away but he couldn’t stop, he won’t.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know what they were nor what they symbolized”

His legs ached and burned but he continued on running.

“They’re symbols of death and moving on, sometimes even reincarnations.”

He finally got to your city and ran to your café, hoping you were there.

“They symbolize the change of seasons from Summer to Fall, truly beautiful flowers.”

When he saw the café closed with neither you nor your boyfriend in sight he continues running to your apartment.

“I never told you this about my quirk, but you know they predict my emotions? I think they can predict my future too.”

He felt like a rabid dog with tears flowing down like waterfalls.

“The spider lilies growing through my subconscious around the café were proof of that theory.”

No, no NO, he won’t let this happen. He won’t let you leave him once again.

He won’t let his rose-tinted gaze show him only your best parts, making him deny all your bad sides all your woes and tears.

He immediately barged into your apartment only to be greeted by the sickeningly sweet smell of flowers.

The room was dark, despite it being 1pm.

He walked slowly through the entrance and found a scatter of red flowers blooming everywhere.

He called your name, no answer.

He screamed for your name, no answer.

But he did get his answer when he arrived at your living room.

The entire room was almost covered from ceiling to the floor with red spider lilies, and the lushest areas where they grew the densest were in the middle of the room.

Deku screamed in agony as he held your hanging body close to his chest.

It wasn’t blood that now stained his fingers nor his clothes. It was the red petals falling down from the ceiling to his hair that taunted him.

It mocked him.

It told him that you gave all the signs, you showed him everything, and yet he was too drugged in the most addictive drug of them all, love, to even notice your hints.

And now he was paying the price.

After all, he was a hero, he needed to be responsible for his actions. Even if it meant finally accepting that you were gone… forever.

#deku angst #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya angst #deku fluff #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #deku x you #izuku midoriya x you #bnha x reader #izuku fanfic #deku fanfiction

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mearcatsreturns · 4 years ago

Note

15 for Abby/Luka

For reasons ;)

Under a cut because it's long.

July 2003

To: Luka Kovac <“[email protected]”>

From: Abby Lockhart <“[email protected]”>

Subject: I’m drowning and praying ghosts are real

Dear Luka,

Something about knowing that I’ll never talk to you again is just unbearable. I’ll never laugh at your malapropisms, look into your beautiful eyes, feel your strong hands holding mine, or make love to you again. There won’t be any more jokes about jam and cheese on toast, or you teasing me for my weak but constant supply of coffee. I’ll never hear your amazing, deranged laughter after you prank someone again. No more of your hugs—which are somehow the best hugs in the world. Because you’re gone.

It’s been three days since we got the call telling us you died thousands of miles from home, whether that’s here in Chicago or in Croatia. I didn’t know your dad’s name, Luka. We needed to call him, and I didn’t know. How did I not know? And now I can’t. I mean, L’Alliance told us his name, but the fact that I’ll never learn pieces of your history, of the wonderful man you are, FROM you...how am I supposed to go on and live my life?

For years, I’ve thought medicine was my great thwarted love. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long, and I thought I was bitter about having to let go of that dream. Now I wonder. I let obstacles get in the way of pursuing medicine, and it’s made me...well, it’s part of why I was so unhappy. But that makes me think about how I also let obstacles get in the way of us. I was happy with you, you know, until I let fear and my mother and Carter get in the way. God, I wish I could do that over again. We could have had everything, and if I hadn’t gotten in my own way, I’d be happy. I think maybe I could have made you happy, too.

It’s funny. I knew things with Carter weren’t working, and he implied you were part of it. I said it wasn’t, but then five minutes later, I found out you were—are—dead. And I realized you were the reason, or one of the big ones. As soon as Chuny told me, I knew I loved you and had loved you for years. Yeah. Great timing, isn’t it? I keep thinking that maybe I could have kept you from going if I had known or if I had told you. I didn’t want you to go when I thought you were my very attractive friend and ex that I still was fond of. Knowing that I love you—how do I move past that? Knowing that I lost you, first to my stupidity and then to death?

I just...I miss you, and I don’t when I’ll stop, or how to. Susan caught me crying on my last shift, and I didn’t even know what to say. I feel like I’ve been crying or standing still, brittle and stuck in time, since I heard the news. I can’t, Luka. I know I have to keep on moving, and I thought maybe writing you would help. I know you’ll never see this, never have a chance to respond. But the idea that some fragments of your soul linger and can maybe sense...I don’t know. That I’m writing? What I’m feeling? Jesus, this is crazy.

All my love,

Abby

Abby angrily swipes the tears from her eyes. God, what’s the point of writing this? He’ll never see hsi email or her again. Just...without Luka, how can the world be anything but grim and sad and pointless?

She laughs mirthlessly. Maybe it doesn’t matter. No, she knows it doesn’t. Because Abby knows the futility of it, aches with the meaninglessness, she presses send without another thought.

&&&

Three days after that, a miracle occurs. Luka, the Lazarus of this new millennium, comes back from the dead. He’s never been dead, and maybe, Abby thinks, there’s a God above after all. So many people wish for this exact boon, and she—they, the world—gets it. Some higher power believes this planet is a better place with Luka Kovac in it, and Abby is ecstatic.

Until she remembers the email and that they can’t be unsent.

It’s fine. She’ll be fine. Luka is coming back, apparently with a French nurse. Maybe he’ll just delete it without reading it. Maybe it didn’t go through—how does email work for the dead, and how quickly is all that processed?

Abby shakes her head. It doesn’t matter; Luka is alive and returning to them. She can handle a little awkwardness in the face of the sheer joy of knowing the world is a brighter, kinder place. He’s coming back, and that’s what’s important.

&&&

August 2003

It takes Luka almost a week after returning to Chicago to convince Kerry and the other staff to let him go back to his apartment. Even so, they only agree when Gillian assures them she’ll see to his every need.

Abby winces when she hears that, and it makes something flutter in Luka’s chest. Which probably isn’t good for his malaria, but the hope...that is.

It’s another two days of lying in bed before he has the energy to ask Gillian to bring him his laptop. At this point, it’s been months since he’s checked his email, and Luka grimaces at the undoubtedly horrible state of his inbox. He briefly considers never checking again and just getting a new one, but he knows his father struggled to add him to his contacts once already. To expect it of him again would be absurd.

With a sigh, Luka opens his email. It’s just as bad as he feared. He snorts at the myriad messages about Viagra, Nigerian princes, and Russian brides, deleting them without thought. He saves a couple from his dad. He slowly whittles down his inbox, but he freezes when he gets to one email in particular, sent about a month ago.

It’s from Abby, during the time everyone thought he was dead.

Luka considers calling and asking her if someone hacked her email or is sending spam from her account, but the subject line...it looks real. And Abby’s been odd around him lately, seeming both deliriously happy to see him and awkwardly nervous.

His heart pounds, and he clicks to open it. If this is a spammer, they’re probably about to get whatever they want.

&&&

Abby pours herself another coffee, internally swearing as she prepares for the last two hours of her shift. Deciding to go back to school is great; having to coordinate all the details is less thrilling and leaves her tired and cranky.

Frank ducks his head into the lounge, beady eyes narrowing on her. “Hey, Abby. The Croat is on the phone for you. Line 2. Try to get back out there as fast as you can, Weaver’s yelling at the med students about IVs.”

“Okay, Frank,” Abby says, though she flushes and her palms start to sweat. It’s fine. She can always hide the panic and butterflies in her stomach with sarcasm. It has yet to fail her.

Frank gives her one last suspicious look, then nods and heads back to Admit.

Abby takes a deep breath, then picks up the phone. “Hey, Luka?”

“It’s me. Glad I could reach you. How are you?” He sounds...ugh. So good. And eager and happy, and her heart could leap right out of her chest.

“Doing all right. I just have a couple hours left on this shift, and it hasn’t been too awful today. Only one MVA. How about you? You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Recovering. Listen, did you want to come over for dinner?”

“Please tell me you’re not trying to cook.”

“What? I’m a good cook, even if you don’t appreciate wonderful, traditional Croatian dishes,” he says with a chuckle.

“Luka, you just got out of the hospital five days ago. You still need to be resting.”

“Abby, don’t worry so much. I was just kidding. I have some sandwiches from Manny’s, and Anna sent me home with lots of matzo ball soup too.”

Abby bites her lip. Of course she wants to go. But the prospect of spending the evening with Gillian cooing over Luka, knowing that she shares a bed with him, is decidedly less appealing. And there’s the email she sent, which Luka hasn’t acknowledged. He might well have deleted it, or he’s giving her a gracious out.

Her conscience twinges as soon as she thinks about bailing, though. Didn’t she promise herself she wouldn’t take life for granted anymore? She’ll go back to med school, she’ll have dinner with Luka when he asks.

“Abby?”

She starts, realizing she needs to respond. “Yeah, sorry. Yeah, I can do that. I can be there an hour after my shift, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too.” He has no idea how much, even if she wishes she knew for sure that he’d deleted the email.

&&&

Abby rings Luka’s doorbell three and a half hours later. She’d meant to come straight from work, but after a patient vomited on her, she decided to head home, shower, and splurge on a taxi to Luka’s. The poor man is recovering from being deathly ill and doesn’t need County’s fumes making things worse.

There’s the sound of the deadbolt sliding, and Luka answers the door, grinning happily at her. “Good, you made it! Come on in!”

“I did. Sorry it took me longer than expected.” Abby steps into his apartment, looking around. It’s been such a long time since she’s been here, and she notes the subtle changes in the art and decor.

“No worries. I know how it goes.” He places a hand at the small of her back, guiding her inside.

Abby stiffens for a second at how his touch burns even through the layers of her shirt and light jacket, but she relaxes, enjoying the feel while she waits for Gillian to appear and end the fleeting joy.

Luka is unfazed. “Now, of course we can just eat the sandwiches, but if you want to heat up the matzo ball soup, you can. Since you don’t want me standing,” he says with a wink.

Abby smiles back, shaking her head. “Oh, I see how it is. Make the woman who worked all day do more household work when she gets ho—wait, where’s Gillian? Isn’t she supposed to be taking care of you?”

“She’s not here,” he says simply.

Going to the fridge and taking out the containers of soup, Abby places them in the microwave. Is Gillian out for the evening, or is she gone gone? “Shouldn’t you be with her? Or her here with you, whatever.”

Luka is quiet for a long minute, and Abby wonders if he intends to answer. Finally, he breaks the silence. “I asked her to leave.”

Abby’s pulse speeds up. “What? Why?”

Luka takes a deep breath, clearly ready to respond, and—

The microwave dings, and they both jump. Exchanging a sheepish look, they laugh.

“Look, let’s get some food, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Abby dishes up their soup and sandwiches, preparing trays so they can sit on the couch. Luka turns on the television, and Abby’s heart rate comes back under control. They sit together in companionable silence while they eat and watch Thom and Jai and the rest of the Fab 5 whip some hapless lawyer’s life into order. When they finish their meal, Abby cleans up, taking the trays back to the kitchen.

She heads back to the couch at the opposite end from Luka, not daring to get closer when she really has no idea what’s going on.

Luka clears his throat and mutes the TV. “So, yeah. I asked Gillian to leave.”

“Oh. So, um, did you break up?”

“She was never my girlfriend, really. She has a boyfriend back in Montreal, they just…” Luka shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.

Abby is more lost than ever. “Ah.”

Taking a deep breath, Luka continues, finally looking over at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful she helped me get here and took care of me, but we were never serious.”

Something starts to tug at Abby’s heart, squeezing and twisting and kicking to get free. Is it...hope? “Well, I’m glad she got you here safe, but you should have someone staying with you while you recover, Luka. Malaria is dangerous.”

He gives her a look. “I know how dangerous malaria is. I’m getting better. And besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for me to ask her to stay when things are over because I’m in love with someone else.”

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Someone else?” she squeaks.

Luka nods, swallowing. “Yeah. And I have a reason to think she might be in love with me too.” He slides over to her side of the couch, reaching for her hand.

Abby meets his eyes—those beautiful green eyes that are the best color in the world—and squeezes his hand, incapable of words. Does he mean…?

With his other hand, Luka reaches up and cups her cheek, running his thumb along the subtle arch of her cheekbone. “Abby, if you’ve changed your mind since you sent that email, please tell me to shut up.”

That stupid, ridiculous email might be the best thing she’s ever done in her life. She leans into his hand, licking her lips as she shakes her head slightly. “I haven’t changed my mind. I didn’t mean for you to see it and hoped I could learn how to hack computers and delete it but—”

Luka cuts her off. “I would never forgive you if you managed to delete it. You wouldn’t believe how much faster I healed after that.”

Abby leans forward, sliding into Luka’s waiting arms. “Then maybe I’ll write you some more emails.”

“Emails aren’t what I want right now,” Luka says.

Funny, Abby doesn’t either. Then his lips brush hers, and all her worries and fears fade away. She knows she has to tell him about med school and he needs to finish recuperating, but when Luka deepens their kiss and pulls her closer, Abby ceases to think at all.

She has Luka back, and now they have each other again.

#er #nbc er #er ff #luby #luby ff #abby lockhart #luka kovac #<3 #my fanfic

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tipsylorie · 3 years ago

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Dream Project Pt. 2 {title in progress}

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: Hello guys! Here is the second part of the story I have been working on. My friend @w-h-i-t-e-mochi had read this already and she commented that it might feel a bit dragging. So, Im sorry about that but I just tried to emphasise on how Jayceon Stone acts as her assistant. This is not yet proof read tho so, sorry again. But I came to realisation on how Lee Da Hee would make a great Liviana and to be paired with Lee Jun Ho as Jayceon. Therefore, if you want, they can be your character reference.

Word Count: 2,300

Before Liviana got to her office, she was greeted by her employees with good mornings, and she greeted them all back with a smile and nod of acknowledgement. Once she arrived at her office, she was welcomed with the young man once again with a smile on his face. “Good morning Liv, I hope you had a goodnight sleep and your first schedule for today is supposedly with the Finance Department of the entertainment, but it seems like you should prioritise the meeting with your potential investor, Mr. Stone.”

Liv can’t help but chuckle with how blunt his assistant was as he immediately stated her schedule for today, so she just replies with, “Woah, what’s the rush Jer? Slowly. I agree on meeting with the investor first so maybe update them that after 45 minutes we are good to see each other at the Casa Royale Hotel. I just need to look through the contract again and see area for negotiation.”

Jayceon is a bit flustered with Liviana’s remark of him seems to be in a rush because this is the first time of him doing such job and he just copied what Dexter usually do as his assistant. So, his response went, “Sorry about that Liv. I just tried to be productive by not stalling any tasks that could’ve already been done. The contract is already sent to your email so just check that and I will call his assistant now. So please excuse me.” After saying the last line, Jayceon exited the office and sat on his desk just outside of it.

~30 minutes later~

“Would you like to come with me Jer?” Liv asked the young man as she exited her office.

“Sure, no problem. I already notified the Financial Department of the meeting being moved an hour later.” Jayceon replied with ease.

“Good job!” She said and high fived him. “Now let’s go.” She continued as she led the way to the parking lot where her driver and car awaits.

~At the Casa Royale Hotel~

“Over here Ms. Voss!” Dexter exclaimed as he waves Liv and Jayce to go to his direction. “Thank you for arranging this meeting Ms. Voss and please do have a seat.” Dexter said as he gestured to the seats vacant for the two and they sat as Dexter continues, “Unfortunately Mr. Stone won’t be able to be here as he is in a 1 week leave due to the transitioning of company rights. I hope that is okay as I am given the Power of Attorney as his proxy for today. He had trusted me that whatever agreements we will be having for today is as good to be his as well. So, no need to be concerned.” He said the last line with a reassuring voice.

Liviana was taken back a little bit as she was expecting to meet the CEO himself, so she answers, “Oh, alright then. I can say by re-reading the contract before coming here is that it was really detailed and somehow stringent.” Liv’s remarks made the vibe feel tense as Jayceon starts to worry and his secretary noticed the faint change of his facial expression. Fortunately, the young woman who has no idea on what caused the sudden change of vibe smiles and continues to say, “But there is need to worry because I like it that way. It will help us keep things black and white and lessen misunderstandings so, I say we seal the deal right away!” She said the last line with enthusiasm and grabs a pen to sign the document. This made the young CEO relax his tense shoulders and gives a smile of recognition to his assistant that he is satisfied with how the meeting turned out.

The partnership was sealed with the final handshake between Liviana and Dexter. Then all of them bid their goodbyes with a last reminder from the older man that after a week, they will meet again to announce publicly about the merger. Liviana and Jayceon conclusively thanked Dexter and took their leave.

Once they arrived back the LV Entertainment building, Jayceon reminded Liviana of her meeting that will take place in 15 minutes.

“Thanks Jer, I will just grab the needed materials in my office. Oh, you can seat this one out because I don’t think I will need an assistant there. So, you can just grab an early lunch or Brunch if you still haven’t eaten your breakfast.” Liviana informed her assistant.

“But I can totally accompany you since it is my job, and maybe… I can give some inputs if you want.” Jayceon tried to reason because she can feel how Liv is being lenient towards him.

She can sense what her assistant is trying to do, and this made her smile, so she replies, “Do not worry Jer, I am not taking it easy towards you but I really don’t find the need to have you there. I can just message you when I need something or when there is something worth noting. But for now, you can just grab your lunch. Okay?”

Jayceon was satisfied with her reply, so he responded, “Sure Liv. Thanks. I will also just arrange the meetings for later to keep everything smooth sailing.”

This made Liviana say, “That would be amazing. Thank you.” She took her leave to proceed to the conference room.

**Jayceon’s Phone**

Message from Liviana: Check Break Even Analysis

Reply sent: Should I check it Liv, right now?

Liviana forgot to put her phone on mute so everyone in the room heard the chime of notification. This made her say, “Sorry guys, please continue.” Then she sent her assistant another message.

**Jayceon’s Phone**

Message from Liviana: No, I will just spam you of the things I need to do. So there’s no need for you to reply.

Reply sent: Oh, okay. Sorry.

Message from Liviana: I said, do not replyyy 😭

Message from Liviana: TLA each branch financial report last month in conjunction of the Entertainment

Message from Liviana: Bake some Choco Moist Cake for Julie

~After many messages later~

“Thank you so much everyone. We need to find solutions soon to add more income without jeopardising the operating expenses. So, I will be all open with suggestions in my email. Okay guys?” Liv informed her staff and all of them agreed then she ended the meeting.

~Back to her office~

“Why is there food on my table? I didn’t order anything.” Liv thought to herself when her secretary enters her office.

“I bought you some lunch in case you’re hungry. I am not sure what to but so I just bought sandwich and Iced Americano to play it safe. I hope it is fine.” Jayceon told her boss.

“It’s actually great! I totally forgot that I haven’t eaten my lunch yet. Thanks. This is actually my go-to food when I am having hard time to think what to eat. So really, thank you Jer.” Liviana told her secretary with genuinely.

Jayceon replies enthusiastically, “No problem, boss. Just doing my job!” He is about to leave then he suddenly remembers something, “May I ask something Liv?”

“Sure.” Live replied as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“With everything you sent me earlier, from the meeting’s notes to your friend’s cake, why did you still forget your own food?” Jayceon asked curiously.

“Yes, I think so. Are you planning on checking up the Academy’s different branches afterwards?” Jayceon asked his boss to confirm and inform that the schedule in the iPad seems incomplete.

It took a while for Liviana to think of an answer so she manages to say is, “Well, all I could think of once I get home is food, maybe that’s why.” She smiled to her assistant with face shows confusion with the lack of answer she replied so she just says, “It’s easier that way. Anyways, what’s next to our schedule?”

While Liviana is taking a sip of her Iced Americano, Jayceon enumerated the meetings that are lined up and this is followed by a question from Liv, “After all these meetings for today, does that end all of the Entertainment’s agendas for the week?”

“Yeah, why? Is there something wrong?” Liviana asked worriedly.

“It’s just that your ex-assistant seemed to forget to update the calendar since what I have now is relatively blank.” Jayceon stated as he looked through the tablet’s screen.

This made Liv ponder for a few minutes and came to a realisation, so she replies, “I believe it was purposely left that way since that is what I instructed her before she left. Hence, we can just leave it like that and have some sort of business trip tomorrow. I will message you the information once I got home because we need to go to the meeting now.”

Jayceon was relieved to know that there was no missing schedule, so he answered, “Sure, I’ll be right behind you Liv.”

After Liviana and Jayceon finished attending all the meetings for the day, she asked him to her office even though it was already passed his clock.

The young man took a seat adjacent to Liviana’s table and she remarks, “Hey, I think I will need your opinion about making the partnership with Stone Corp. public sooner instead of a week. Because I made some thinking the whole day and concluded that it would create traction for the Entertainment. I am not sure if you’ve already seen our latest financial reports that we are close to be in red – and barely breaking even.” Her face is contoured in full worries and anxiousness, she continues, “So I just want to know your opinion if I were to propose this to Mr. Stone, would it be alright or not?” She asked and nervously waiting for Jayceon’s reply.

“Honestly Liv, I don’t think you should rush this. Because one week is not a long time. The best advice I could give you is focus on the events that will happen, both in TLA and the Entertainment. Do not worry too much.” This response from Mr. Stone might come out quite manipulative but as Liv asked him with sincerity, this is the best answer he has based on his judgement with the overall situation.

The young woman took some time to weigh what her secretary just told her, and her reply goes, “Yes. Yeah, I think you’re right. I agree. Maybe let’s conclude for the day and meet tomorrow at the usual time here in the building to gather last minute things.” She informed her assistant, and both bid their goodbyes.

~At Liviana’s House~

“Let’s make the cake first and then eat dinner afterwards before checking all the reports for tomorrow’s trip.” Liv said as she tries to reason with herself.

Her closest friend Julie is having her 27th birthday tomorrow and she is currently supervising the branch of TLA where the Scholarship Audition Programme is going to be held, which is the Municipality of Paradigmia. It is like the second main branch after the one in the City of Pneumarê. The main branch is the only one located in a city, however due to the development of the Tree of Life Academy the municipalities and provinces where other branches are located, it is becoming a progressive community which at a very near future can make them a city. If you are wondering on why the Final Audition is not going to take place in the city, well… It is because of how it was agreed upon on where annual inter-branch events will take place – and it is through spinning wheel where the names of the branches are written in random order. Therefore, she must make sure to visit Paradigmia at all costs tomorrow.

Going back to Liv’s closest friend, Julie Andews is also her longest friend who also supported her while she was busy integrating an Entertainment company to her family’s Academy. Ever since it was Anne who was more focused on handling the academics aspects, so it took quite a while for Julie to find a place where she truly suitable. Heck, she even attempted to do the financial aspect, but it took a toll on her. Then, one time strolling through the city’s academy branch, she saw the need to develop the extra-curricular activities not just for students who do it for grades but also those who wants to experience it. Especially when she realised that it would be vital for the integration of a Korean Entertainment Company. So, she drew up a proposal on how she plans to execute such developments and it was immediately approved by Liv. Liviana also doubled check it with her parents if such change would be okay and even though it took a week for them to agree, Julie was able to perform her plan without a hitch.

Okay, going back to the cake. After she baked the 3 layers of the heart-shaped cake for Julie she realised that she mixed a hell a lot of batter. So, she just took some of her leftover cupcake cups and make the rest of the red velvet mix into cupcakes. To Liv’s surprise she was still able to great 2 dozen of cupcakes, so she plans to give half of it to Anne as she also promised her a visit yesterday. Liviana successfully iced and decorated the cake and all the cupcakes after several hours, so she proceeds on putting it on her refrigerator to finally have her dinner.

Liviana freshen up before heading to her bed since it was a tedious work and cleaning earlier in the kitchen that made her sweat a lot. Before having her eyes closed, she remembers the reports she must re-evaluate this made her say, “For fuck’s sake.” After another 2 hours she finally got her sleep.

[End of Part 2]

#liv #jayce #oneshot #kpop #ceo au #ceo #au #imagine #scenario #lee junho #2pm #2pm junho #lee dahee #kdrama #original #imagines #fluff

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headfulloffantasies · 4 years ago

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WonderTrev Secret Santa

For @pennywaltzy Happy Holidays!

Sometimes- A WonderTrev fic. Rated PG

Sometimes, Diana dreamed that Steve didn’t die.

Sometimes

Sometimes, Diana dreamed that Steve didn’t die. Some nights, she saw the plane explode in a flash of orange against the black night sky. And when the smoke cleared, a white parachute drifted through the air. Diana ran across the landing strip, her boots pounding the asphalt. Steve’s knees buckled as he hit the pavement. Diana caught him, held him tight against her chest. It felt like crashing into the sun. His warm body, still alive, brough tears to her eyes. She vowed to never let go.

Steve’s arms wrapped around her. He said something into her ear. But like before, she couldn’t hear through the muffled ringing.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered. She ran a hand through his soft hair, pressing him even closer to her. His hands ran up and down her back, soothing the ache of loss.

They left the battlefield. They walked hand and hand away from a war finally won. They saved the world, and the promise of tomorrow was their reward.

Diana hated that dream. She woke with tears staining her pillow. Sometimes she put on her armor at night and went out looking for crime just so she wouldn’t have to face that dream. Eventually, she learned to live with the dream. She stopped putting on the armor.

Diana told her story to very few people. The legend of Wonder Woman became a myth, and then a fable. Just a story soldiers remembered hearing in the trenches. Sometimes though, Diana got lonely.

Bruce Wayne gifted her the photo of Steve, Samir, Charlie, and Chief. Diana sat down and sent him an email. “Thank you for bringing him back to me. Will you meet me for coffee? I’m ready to tell you my story.”

They met at Diana’s apartment. She set two mugs of earl grey tea on the coffee table. Bruce fidgeted on her couch, clearly unsure how to start this conversation. Diana sat next to him and began. “I was not born in the world of men…”

Sometimes, when she had told people she’d lost her only love, people would say “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

Bruce said nothing. He sat in his brooding silence when she finished talking. Diana’s tea had made had gone cold. Bruce finally lifted his eyes. They were blue like Steve’s, but icy where Steve’s had always been warm. Bruce took Diana’s hand in his.

“Steve sounds like a very special person. Thank you for sharing. People like us seem to carry far too much pain.”

“People like us?” Diana raised an eyebrow.

Bruce didn’t respond. He gathered his coat and left.

Diana wished sometimes she’d never left Themescara. The only people in the world who might understand her were barred from her. She could never return. But sometimes, she imagined what she might say to her mother. Diana could feel the sun-warm grass beneath her bare feet. She imagined sitting in the glade where she’d learned to ride horses. Her mother would sit across from her. They’d share a drink of wine.

Diana would lift her face to her mother and say, “I found a man worthy of the Amazons. The man Steve Trevor, who defended us on the beach.”

The imagined Hippolyta raised an eyebrow. “I recall his name, Diana. It’s not every century a man finds his way to our island.”

“Yes, mother,” Diana hid a smile. “If I told you I loved him, what would you say?”

Hippolyta also smiled. “So long as you are happy, I am happy for you.”

Diana swallowed hard. “I lost him.”

“Not all things that are lost are finished,” Hippolyta said.

Diana snapped from her daydream. Her mother had never said that before in her mind. Diana’s heart raced. Where had that thought come from?

Not all things that are lost are finished.

What did it mean? Diana was sure the thought had not come from herself.

The next day Diana sat at her desk in her office. She typed up her proposal for the museum’s newest exhibition, attaching her notes on the rarity of the Greek artifacts included in the display. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her temples. She’d had the dream again last night and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after.

Diana’s email pinged. She looked up, expecting something from her supervisor. The message had no subject line. She checked the sender. No sender listed. Diana frowned. She really shouldn’t open anything like this. She deleted the message, hoping no other spam would make it into her inbox. Another ping immediately drew her attention. The subject line of the new email read “READ ME, DIANA”.

There was still no sender. Diana chewed her lip. She clicked the message. It had only one line.

“Not all things that are lost are finished.”

A chill ran down Diana’s spine.

Another message popped up. Diana clicked it. She lurched back in her chair.

It was a photo of Steve Trevor. He wore a grey sweatshirt and glowered at the camera. The sight of him in colour stole Diana’s breath. This couldn’t possibly be real. Someone had photoshopped the image, surely. Diana frantically searched the message for the sender. No sender, but the subject line read “FIND ME”.

Diana’s pulse raced. Steve’s face swam in front of her eyes. Diana forced herself to her feet. A thousand memories crashed over her like a wave. Steve’s smile, his blue eyes, his hands clasped around hers, the snow falling between them. Diana could hear the music in the chilly square.

Diana couldn’t stand still anymore. She paced back in forth in front of her desk. Tears ached in her throat, but she forced them down. This couldn’t be real. Diana needed proof. She leaned over the desk and tapped frantically at the computer. There was one person she knew who would help without asking questions. Bruce Wayne.

She forwarded the photo of Steve along with a quick plea. “Can you verify this photo is real and find the source?”

Diana went back to her pacing while she waited. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. If Steve was alive-. She forced her thoughts elsewhere. She had to find whoever had sent the picture. Diana sat at her desk again. She stared at Steve’s face glaring back. His thick eyebrows pulled harshly over his eyes. Diana traced a finger over the crease in his forehead. The only photo she had of him was too faded and grainy to make out much of his neutral expression. She’d never forgotten how deeply he conveyed his emotions; but she hadn’t seen it in so many decades.

At last, Bruce replied to her request. Diana slammed her hand on the mouse to open his response.

“The photo is real. Unable to track the sender. Do you need backup?”

A sob clogged in Diana’s throat. Steve. Steve alive. How? How could this happen?

The sharp ring of Diana’s cellphone startled her out of her thoughts. “Hello.”

“Do you have any clues as to who did this?” Bruce’s low growl grounded Diana in her seat.

“No,” she admitted. “All I have is the picture.”

“I’ve also been receiving disturbing messages,” Bruce said.

Diana sucked in a breath. “Do you have any leads?”

“One,” Bruce did not elaborate.

Diana resisted rolling her eyes. Bruce remained as difficult to talk to as ever. “I would be grateful for any assistance you may have,” she said.

Bruce paused. Diana waited; the tempests of Bruce’s moods not new to her. “The messages I’ve had were not, let’s say, traditional.”

“How do you mean?”

“Dreams,” Bruce said curtly. “I’ve been having dreams of someone I thought to be dead. She might not be.”

Diana stilled. “I’ve also had dreams.”

“I’ll meet you in an hour.”

Diana went home. Bruce rang her door bell exactly one hour from when he hung up the phone. Diana welcomed him into her apartment.

Bruce glanced around the airy penthouse suite. He stuck his hands in his crisp suit pockets. “You have good taste.”

“We both know you’re not here to compliment my décor,” Diana closed the door. “Please sit,” she gestured to the couch. Bruce perched on the edge of the cushion. Diana noted he’d placed himself where he could see all the windows and doors. She didn’t comment.

Diana sat across from Bruce. “Tell me about your dreams.”

Bruce frowned. “They’ve been chaotic. I only ever dream of the night my parents died. Now, I’m having vivid recollections of Justice League missions. I thought maybe someone was trying to gather intel on the League.”

Diana noted the dark circles under Bruce’s blue eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”

Bruce shook his head. “It seemed irresponsible to give her an in.”

“Her?” Diana raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You know who’s doing this to us?”

“Maybe. I have a suspicion.”

“Who is she?” Diana asked.

Something flickered across Bruce’s face too quickly for Diana to recognise. “Her name is Ace. I knew her when she was a child. It seems she’s grown up. And grown even more powerful.”

“How do you mean?” Diana pressed.

Bruce straightened his spine. Diana was beginning to recognise his stiff posture as a form of armor he gathered around himself. “Ace is psychic. When I met her, she was sick. Her powers overflowed, wrapping people in vivid hallucinations. I thought she had died in my arms.”

“Did you kill her?” Diana didn’t want to say it.

“No,” Bruce said. His sharp gaze reprimanded Diana for even asking.

She folded her arms over her chest. “If this girl can warp people’s minds, how do we know any of what’s going on is real?”

“We don’t,” Bruce pinned her with another look. “But are you willing to risk it?”

“Yes,” Diana replied immediately. Anything for Steve. The bubble of hope that had grown in her chest expanded. She didn’t dare nurture it. If all this was only a trick, she didn’t know how she’d react. She couldn’t lose Steve a second time.

“What do you propose?”

Bruce shrugged. “It’s probably easiest to go to sleep and wait for Ace to contact us.”

A knot of anxiety squeezed in Diana’s stomach. “Yes, I suppose,” she conceded.

Diana set Bruce up in her spare bedroom. The bed hadn’t seen any guests in quite some time. Bruce protested that he could sleep on the couch, but Diana refused.

“Hospitality is a virtue among my people.”

Diana left Bruce to try to fall asleep in her fresh sheets. She went to her own room and closed the door.

She laid down on top of her covers and closed her eyes. In the dark of her own thoughts, Diana thought of Steve. She recalled the smoke of their little camp in the European wilderness. Steve’s coat dropped around her shoulders. Charlie sang a soldier’s song of longing to go home. Diana watched out of the corner of her eye as Steve curled up and fell asleep on the ground. His face softened in repose. Diana longed to lay next to him, to drape his arm over her shoulder and to burrow into his side. She missed him dearly. What would she give for a chance to get him back?

Diana rolled over. Her alarm clock told her she’d been laying there for an hour. She sighed. She obviously wasn’t going to fall asleep. Diana levered herself up and went to check on Bruce.

She tapped softly at the door. There was no answer. She pushed the door open. Bruce lay half curled around a pillow; his fingers gone lax in their grip on the sheets. He’d thrown his jacket over the chair in the corner. Diana crossed over to the chair and settled herself down to wait until Bruce woke. His body had relaxed in sleep, but his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. It did not look peaceful.

Bruce woke with a jerk. He made a snuffling sound like an adorable puppy. Diana hid her smile behind her hand. Bruce sat up. His hair stood up in spikes on one side of his head. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and finally noticed Diana.

“How long were you there?” He asked, his voice rough.

Diana shrugged. “A few minutes only. I could not sleep.”

Bruce nodded. He slid off the bed and straightened his collar. “I got a location.”

Diana’s head snapped up. “Really?” She rose from her seat.

Bruce nodded. He slicked his hair back, all business again. “Ace showed me the facility she’s being held at.”

“And Steve?” Diana pressed.

Bruce frowned. “I think so. The details are fading. We should move.”

“You have your suit?” Diana asked.

Bruce smirked. “Always.”

Diana ran to change.

Bruce was waiting at the door when she came out in her armor. His face hid behind the black cowl. He cut an imposing figure with his cape trailing the floor and the horns on his head stabbing towards the ceiling. He reached for the door knob. “The Batplane is on its way. We’ll have to go to the roof.”

“Not that way,” Diana strode to the balcony and threw open the glass doors. She braced a foot against the balcony rail and turned back to Bruce. She extended a hand. “Are you coming?”

Bruce took her hand. She tugged him into her side and wrapped an arm around his waist. Diana lifted her head, calculating the distance to the roof. She bent her knees and jumped. They rocketed into the air. They launched up over the roof. For one second, they were suspended over the city, the sunset spreading golden below. Then they dropped. Diana adjusted her grip on Bruce to compensate his weight. She took the force of their landing with a jolt through her bones.

Bruce scrambled out of her grip. “A little warning would have been nice,” he grumbled.

The roar of an engine alerted them of the Batplane before it appeared at the edge of the roof. Bruce strode over to the tiny aircraft. Diana approached the cramped cockpit dubiously.

“I can fly behind you,” she offered, noting the single seat.

“No,” Bruce answered. “We have to make a plan as we fly. Ace said there wasn’t much time left.”

“Fine,” Diana climbed into the craft. She squeezed her knees behind the pilot’s chair. Bruce leaped in and flicked a dozen blinking switches on the controls in front of him. The canopy descended and sealed with a hiss. Diana wriggled her shoulders, trying to relieve the pressure of something digging into her spine.

“Tell me what Ace said,” Diana demanded as the plane roared to life and surged towards the horizon.

Bruce kept his eyes on his instruments. “They’re in a facility underground. Someone’s been running tests on them. Experimenting.”

Diana’s stomach dropped. Images of a faceless scientist hurting Steve ran through her mind. She clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking.

Diana finally asked the question that had burned in her chest for hours. “Did you ask Ace about Steve?”

Bruce nodded. “She said he’s been there the longest. But not awake? She thinks he was in some kind of suspension until recently.”

Diana held back a growl. “What’s the plan?”

Bruce glanced back at her. “There are other prisoners there as well. The priority should be getting them out.”

“Agreed.”

Bruce passed a radio back to Diana. “We’ll have to split up. Do you think you can make a loud distraction?”

Diana managed a savage smile. “I can do that.”

The bunker in the snowy woods crouched against the side of the mountain like a soldier defending its stance. Diana marched straight up to the solid iron doors. Her shield hung loose in her grasp. Her sword trailing the ground left a slice through the newly fallen snow. She approached with her shoulders back and head high. Diana didn’t bother yelling for attention. She drew back her leg and slammed her heel against the door. The metal buckled. Diana kicked again. The hinges groaned. One more attack and the doors crumpled in on themselves.

The tunnel leading down into the earth yawned black and abandoned. But Diana could hear the sound of running feet and shouting. Too late, an alarm shrieked overhead.

Diana strode down the tunnel. Just as the smooth floor evened out, a dozen armed guards rounded the corner. Diana leaped. She slammed into the oncoming assailants. They didn’t stand a chance. Diana cut through them with her lasso and shield. Once they were all down, she looked around. The grey concrete hallway she found herself in branched to the left and right. To the left she heard more shouting and stomping feet. To the right, then. Away from the security’s hub, where Bruce was slowly making his own covert progress.

Diana took her time, moving at a sedate pace. Any time a new batch of guards caught up, she disarmed and dispatched them quickly. She was aware of the blinking cameras in the corners following her every move. She did not care. Calculated fury filled Diana as she marched through the base.

Losing Steve before had given the same battle clarity. But this was different. The incident with Ares had been fire. This was cold as ice. Steve was here. Nothing else mattered.

Diana descended down a flight of stairs to a white door marked “Labs”. Diana shoved the door open.

The smell of disinfectant hit her nose. She found a room of sterile white chambers. Diana drew nearer, a humming sense of urgency finally breaking through her cold exterior. Each chamber resembled a cell with a white bunk and a glass wall separating it from the rest of the lab. Figures moved in each chamber.

Diana drew level with the first cell. A woman pressed against the glass. She wore the same grey sweatshirt and pants as Steve in the photo. Her stringy hair fell across her eyes. Those same eyes widened at Diana’s approach.

“Wonder Woman?” The woman gasped. “Are you here to save us?”

“Yes,” Diana nodded. She drew back her shield and slammed it into the glass. The woman ducked with a yelp. The shield ricocheted off the glass, the vibration jarring Diana’s arm all the way to the shoulder. The glass didn’t so much as crack.

Diana stared in disbelief.

“They knew you’d come,” the woman whispered.

“Who are you?” Diana demanded.

“Tara.” The woman sniffed miserably. “I’ve been here for ages. Doctor Leslie talks about you all the time. She hates you. She designed the cages to be impenetrable.”

“We’ll see about that,” Diana studied the locking mechanism on the cell door. It looked like a simple key card lock. Diana brought her sword down on the lock. It

Tara stepped out on shaking legs. “Thank you.”

“I’m searching for someone,” Diana said. “His name is Steve Trevor.”

Tara nodded. “He’s here. Doctor Leslie came and took him away when the alarms started.”

Diana didn’t know whether to be afraid or relieved.

She released the rest of the prisoners. They told her the same thing: they knew of Steve, but hadn’t spoken to him. They’d all been experimented on, but the head scientist, Doctor Leslie, seemed to hate Steve more than the others.

Diana pointed Tara and the others towards the exit. “Head that way. Keep out of sight.”

The prisoners scurried away. Diana hefted her sword and kept going. Somewhere here, Steve was wandering around. She’d find him.

“Diana,” the radio Bruce had given her crackled to life. “I’m in the main security office. I have control of the building.”

Diana pulled the radio from her belt. “Where is Doctor Leslie?”

“Keep heading forwards. She’s holed up in lab 237. I’ll meet you there.”

Diana’s heart pounded in time with her boots as she ran down the hallway. The numbers on the lab doors streaked by. She skidded to a halt outside lab 237.

The door hung open. Diana unsheathed her sword. The lights were off in the room. Computers whined at the numerous desks. Strings of numbers ran over the screens, casting flickering patterns of light on the walls. Diana edged forward. At the head of the room, a woman bent over a desk, pressing keys on the computer.

“Stay there,” Diana ordered.

The woman’s head jerked up. Her hair escaped her bun in wild curls and her glasses sat askew on her face.

“Doctor Leslie?” Diana asked. She took another step closer.

The doctor adjusted her glasses. “My, you are a specimen, aren’t you?”

Diana ignored the jibe. “Where is Steve Trevor?”

“Dead.”

The world fell like a bolder on Diana’s shoulders. The air punched from her lungs. She flew across the room and grabbed a handful of Doctor Leslie’s lab coat. “You’re lying,” Diana growled.

Doctor Leslie seemed unaffected by the fact that her feet no longer touched the ground. Her face twisted with rage.

“Do you remember Doctor Poison?” Doctor Leslie hissed. “She taught me everything I know. And she had a special hatred for you. Together we found your precious Steve Trevor after the war. She put him on ice. She refused to bring him out to play. But after her death, how could I not avenge my dear teacher?” She chuckled. “He was such a lovely specimen. I’ll cherish his last moments forever.”

A stripe of panic ran down Diana’s spine. “No.”

“Yes,” Doctor Leslie cackled. “Dead! I killed Steve Trevor! How does it feel?”

Diana’s grip on the woman’s collar tightened. Doctor Leslie gasped for breath. Cold chilled Diana to the bone. She’d let the men responsible for Steve’s death live once before. Not this time. She’d raze the base to the ground.

“Diana?”

Diana knew that voice. Her fingers went lax. Doctor Leslie collapsed onto the floor. Diana hardly noticed. She turned.

“Steve?”

He stood in the doorway. His chest rose and fell with harsh breaths. Diana stood still as the statue of Zeus as Steve came closer. He held his hands out to the sides as if approaching a startled animal. His blue eyes were deeper than she remembered. Diana took the last step separating them.

She reached out for his face with a shaking hand. She pulled her fingers away just an inch from his skin. “I don’t want this to be a dream,” she said.

“Diana, I’m here,” Steve assured her. His pleading eyes begged her to believe him. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Diana crushed him to her chest. He still smelled the same. Apples and musk underneath the disinfectant of this place. Diana curled her fingers in the short hairs at the back of his neck. His cheek pressed to hers.

“I’m here,” Steve murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

There was a scrambling noise as Doctor Leslie hauled herself from the floor and made her break for the door. Diana’s hand went to her lasso. Before she could snap the magic rope around the doctor’s ankle, Doctor Leslie ran straight into a shadow standing in the doorway.

Batman glared down at the doctor. She cowered.

Diana turned back to Steve, ignoring Bruce snapping cuffs on the doctor’s hands.

Diana wrapped Steve in her arms again. “I was so scared I lost you again,” she admitted.

“Give me that magic lasso,” Steve demanded. Diana unraveled it into his hands.

Steve wrapped the cord around his wrist like he had those ages ago in London. The magic glowed gold on his skin. “I am never leaving your side again.”

Diana didn’t know how long she and Steve stayed there wrapped in each other’s arms. At last, Bruce cleared his throat. Diana pulled back from Steve enough to crane her head at Bruce.

“Did you find Ace?” Diana asked.

“Yes.” A young woman with short black hair peeked out from behind Bruce’s shoulder. Her grey eyes danced with mirth.

“I knew you’d hear me,” Ace said. “Steve won’t shut up about you. I knew if you loved him half as much as he loves you, you’d come for him.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed. Diana laughed at his blush. She dropped her hand to grasp Steve’s fingers. “Let’s go home.”

#wondertrev #wondertrevsecretsanta #wonder woman #steve trevor #secret santa exchange 2020 #diana prince #bruce wayne #batman #justice league compliant #fanfic #fanfiction #wonder woman 2017 #ace

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spideychellesecretsanta · 4 years ago

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Welcome again to the Spideychelle Secret Santa Gift Exchange! We’re starting a little earlier this year, one of the reasons being that this gives us more time to prepare. The other being that last year was so fun and I am too excited!

If you’re interested in participating, keep reading!

How it Works

To sign up, fill out this form. If for some reason that doesn’t work, feel free to send a DM!

You’ll need to provide an email, but if you are uncomfortable sharing that, you can create a temporary one just for this event! The only person who will be seeing your email address is me, and the only time it will be used is for sending out assignments.

Sign ups will be open until August 31st 11:59:59 PM (as long at it’s this day somewhere in the world, you’re good to go!) After this day, SIGN UPS WILL BE CLOSED, as it is impossible to add anyone after the assignments are sent!

Once you have received the assignment on or around September 1st, (check your spam just in case!) I will also send a link to the Secret Santa Discord server! Here, there will be announcements and other things related to the event.

There will also be a channel for wishlists. Here, you can put what sort of genres/tropes/AUs you like. More details below!

Make sure to check your person’s wishlist and snoop around their blog! Also, if you would like to make things a little easier for your secret santa, enable anons here on Tumblr.

Beginning on Dec. 24th, we will start posting through the week until January 1st!

If for some reason you are unable to make that deadline, don’t hesitate to DM me, and to let your person know that you’re their Secret Santa. We will work something out :)

That being said, remember that this is an exchange. If you are expecting to receive something, you must also expect to give something in return.

There will be a two week check-in before Dec. 24th to see if you need help/more time!

WHEN YOU POST

tag the person you got!

tag @spideychellesecretsanta

use the tag #SpideychelleSecretSanta2k20

For fics, there will also be an AO3 collection should you want to post it on there as well!

The Wishlist

You won’t have to worry about this until the actual invites are sent out on Sept. 1st, but keep it in mind!

There’s no character limit in the chat boxes on Discord, so write to your heart’s content!

Talk about what genres you like (angst, fluff, humor, etc.)

Talk about what tropes you like (there’s only one bed, friends to lovers, fake dating, etc.)

Talk about what AUs you like (Mob!AU, College!AU, Fantasy!AU, etc.)

Specify whether or not you’re okay with receiving smut/n*fw art.

A NOTE: if you are an artist/writer and you are not comfortable drawing/writing smut, then you do not have to, even if someone puts that they are comfortable with receiving it. This is simply just so that the Secret Santas that are comfortable know what they can do!

Also, make sure to put some things that you don’t like!

Maybe mention certain scenarios or even lines of dialogue you’d like to see (this isn’t a requirement, but it could help!)It would also be a good idea to include your AO3 username, so that your Secret Santa can gift it to you there.

Rules

I know that this one is bound to be broken because it happens in every gift exchange, but don’t tell anyone who you have! It’s not a secret if you do! In the wise words of Gandalf the Grey, “Keep it secret. Keep it safe.”

Understand that depending on who your Secret Santa is, you will either get a fic, a drawing, a moodboard, or some other creative work. You aren’t guaranteed a specific gift, even if you specify it in your wishlist. So be kind! Somebody made something just for you!!

Along that not, GIVE FEEDBACK!!

For writing fics, shoot for around a minimum 1-1.5k word count. Anything around or above that is fine, so don’t stress about it!

There is no maximum word count, but if you’re finding your fic to be pretty lengthy, use the Read More function!

Please please PLEASE write a wishlist after you’ve received your assignment! It will help your Secret Santa get to know you and get ideas for what to make for you!

A NOTE: When filling out your wishlist, do not only put smut, as there are minors in this fandom and that gets into legal territory that I am sure none of us want to deal with. Give other ideas!

and the biggest rule of all DO NOT FORGET THIS: HAVE FUN!!

So, that’s basically it! If you read all of that, and you’d still like to sign up, fill out this form! If you have any more questions at all, or if I missed something, feel free to send me a message or ask! 🎄

#spideychelle #petermj #peter parker #michelle jones #peter parker x michelle jones #spiderman #spider-man #mcu #secret santa #spideychelleweek2k20

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hitsuackerman · 4 years ago

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Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.18

a/n: all i can say is... BRING BACK CHRONOHAUL :) hope ya’ll like the chapter!

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 19

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito @meximorrita @awesomeee19 @celestial-kanzakii @laure-lo @team-wang-puppy @aydience-world @choros-main-hoe @but-kairis-not-that-smart @colorseeingchick (i cant seem to tag again :( hope this lands in your timelines!)

“Kurono.” Overhaul snapped. “We’re done for the day. Take Eri-chan to her room and give the new toy to keep her busy.”

Finishing the last part of the job, Kurono pinned Eri’s bandages and carried her. Watching as Overhaul left the room, he felt the little girl trembling in his hold. The past few days, his boss had been a little harsher on the girl and it showed when he opened her up without being warned. Patting her head, the flinch did not help in the tense aura surrounding the base.

Once he locked her doors, he walked down the dimly lit hall and passed by Overhaul’s office. The faint sound of him typing away in his laptop made him stop in his tracks. It was rare for him to even look at his laptop. Something must be bothering him more than ever, for sure.

Knocking on the door, he was told to come in and entered silently.

“You’re on the laptop.” He commented and lazily flopped on the sofa. Taking his mask off, he rubbed his face and leaned on the back rest.

“I can see that.” Overhaul’s eyes remained glued to the screen. “Is there something you need?”

“D’you talk to her yet?” He yawned and stretched his limbs. Legs ready to bounce should his boss show any sign of rage.

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“Just askin’.” He shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with his fingers. “Eri-chan’s in her room now and the toy still didn’t lighten her mood. Not that it ever works.”

He merely hummed and continued typing.

“Mind if I ask what exactly happened?” Kurono sat up with perfect posture. His legs angled to the door, ready to make a run for it. The tension was too much. Even for the precepts. He could care less about the budding lovelife his boss had but the limit was drawing near. Hearing the laptop slam close, Kurono stood up and inched his way to the door.

“You have absolutely no business learning what happened behind those closed doors. But, if it pleases your curiosity, the woman mentioned her time with Ackerman.” Overhaul impatiently tapped his index finger on the desk. The other hand massaging his temple. “Satisfied?”

“What else did she say?”

“She said that her emotions aren’t there for the bastard and that she has her eyes set on someone else.”

For someone who played shogi skillfully, Kurono had to admit that his friend was as clueless as the word could imply. Using all of his strength not to twitch his eye at the ignorance being displayed, he let out a sigh and went back to the sofa.

“So why be pissed about it? Clearly she’s interested in you.”

“I am not pissed. I am merely agitated at the turn of events.” He stopped tapping his finger and stood up. Exiting himself out, he decided a long bath might cool his head.

“You do realize she only did that to rile you up. You’re losing to her game, Kai. I bet a shit ton of cash that she wanted to see if a reaction would suffice and looking at you now, she got exactly what she wished.” Kurono talked the fastest he’s ever attempted in his life. “I’ll also bet my money that you ignoring her only adds to her growing problems.”

“And what makes you say that, Kurono?” He was now facing the arrow-haired man. Fists clenched tightly.

“One of the men saw her entering Nighteye’s agency.”

“THAT Nighteye?” He cocked a brow and took a step closer to the sofa.

“Yes. Her car remained parked for quite some time. By the time she left, I was told she was speeding towards the precinct.”

Gathering his thoughts, Chisaki found himself seated across Kurono. His bird mask resting on the table between them. The surgical mask now on full display showing the shadows his face offered. Without realizing it, his brows were furrowed and teeth gritting.

“If it’s bothering you, why not just call her or send a message.” Kurono shrugged.

“If she has been spotted entering the agency, chances are she’s been part of the heroes schemes all this time.” He was nodding to himself. “And she had the audacity to act like she was part of nothing. Smart move for her but not careful enough.”

Squinting at the train of thought he had just heard, Kurono rested his elbows on his thighs.

“So, you think she’s teaming up with the heroes?”

“She is.” He leaned on the back rest.

“She told you?”

“Not outright.”

“What gave her away then?”

“The night I left, she mentioned how the heroes don’t have a clear map of the base and only an outline. That was either a slip or intentional. From the turn of events, it may have been accidental.” The memory of that night, having his body so close to yours made him fiddle with the hem of his gloves. The scene of having your flushed face so near to his made him smirk under the black mask. Glancing at the calendar, though there was no need, it had been three days since the both of you contacted each other.

“Do you think we’ve been bugged?” Kurono asked. His eyes darting from one corner of the room to the other.

“No.” Crossing his arm against his chest, he let out a long sigh. “Not yet, at least. But knowing them, it’s bound to happen and they will use (y/n) for that.”

“What do you intend on doing?”

“Buy me a new sim tomorrow, Kurono. It’s best if communication is cut. The Quirk erasing bullets are nearing its completion. Any upcoming hindrances would disrupt the plan.” Taking his phone out, he checked for any messages. Seeing as there were none, he turned it off and threw the sim card across the table. The small plastic landing inches away from the edge.

“You’re not going to overhaul it?” This was something he was not expecting.

“No. Burn it.”

“You’re…” He took the sim into his hand. “You’re really serious about this.”

"Those rats are on the move. The chances of her bugging our base is high. Knowing she's not the type to refuse, it is best to cancel out any communication." Picking up his mask, he let out a silent sigh and wore the said item. "No need to fret, Kurono. I've already prepared the necessary actions."

"Knowing you, there's no need to fret." He too took his mask and wore it as well. Fixing his hood, he stared at his friend. "What about the Fukuo Kai case?"

"That is in two months. The hype would have died down." Standing up, he fixed his coat and motioned Kurono to follow him out. "Besides. If (y/n) really has an interest in me, she would know the perils of harboring emotions. Let's go. I'm famished."

"Pardon?" Kurono stopped walking and stared at the back of his boss.

"Even the strongest villains need nourishment."

"Oh, uh, sure." Not sure what to do next, he rubbed the hems of hood. "Shall I ready the car?"

Seeing the nod, he blinked himself back to reality and went separate ways. Walking towards the garage, the blue-haired man replayed the events. He wasn't too sure but he could feel how your mannerisms were slowly rubbing off of Kai. Not that he minded, it was just… weird.

Taking the sim from his pocket, Kurono weighed out the options of burning or keeping the small object. Kai or even Overhaul wasn't too fond of keeping mementos, but his sense of gratitude was always strong. His ways of repaying debts were always admirable, no matter how absurd his methods may be.

Once he was now seated in the car, he knew exactly what to do with it.

The following day, Tsukauchi took his seat beside you. A brown paper bag now resting on your desk. After the heart to heart talk inside your car, you are more than glad that nothing has changed. He still treated you as his partner, as well as his close friend.

"Here are some updates for the Fukuo Kai." Reaching out for a folder, Tsukauchi pulled it with his fingertips till he finally grasped it. "We have detected some movements in their western branch. Me and the 4th division will be checking them out 3 days from now. Care to join?"

Checking your schedule, it was vacant and you agreed.

"So what're your plans now?" He asks while grabbing a small chip from your meal. "Nighteye?"

"Yeah. They’ll be discussing who’s who within the eight precepts.” Despite trying your best, you couldn’t help the slight slumping of your shoulders. Slowly nodding at the words that left your mouth, you chuckled and shook your head.

“Are you debating whether or not to tell him you're a part of the scheme?”

“I can’t but I feel like he’s caught up. I tried to call him last night. Yes, I know it’s cheap of me. But, his number was unavailable so…”

“He probably was off doing villainous deeds.” Tsukauchi patted your head and dragged his seat back to his cubicle. “He’d be a real jerk if he won’t contact you within the next few days. Trust me. Not even bad guys can resist the temptation of women.”

“You’re making me sound like a prostitute, Nao~” You commented while checking your emails. For now, nothing caught your eye. The occasional spam emails were present and one from Hawks but you could save that for later. Any more birdmen was not in your priority.

A few minutes passed and you were now engrossed in typing reports. When the lights of your company telephone lit up, your eyes darted to Namase’s door. It had been a long time since the both of you conversed, or let alone saw each other. The fact that he was calling you only meant bad news. Recalling every case you left unsolved, you were quite confident that this was nothing worth worrying about.

Picking up the phone, you braced yourself.

“Namase?”

“Bet you’re wondering why I called you, right?” Right. You forgot. This man held no filter whatsoever. “Well no need to worry. I just had to inform you that we received an anon caller. Do you wanna put him on the line?”

“An Anon caller? For what case?” You grabbed a pen and paper.

“For the Arson case.”

“Can you put him on the line?”

“Sure~”

Namase put the Anon caller thru and you waited till you were sure he wasn’t eavesdropping.

“Hello?” Even if you weren’t sure whether or not you should receive this call.

“Is this (l/n)-san?” His voice was low but clear enough for you to hear. “I think I have some good information about the fires.”

“I’d love to hear it but I had to hand over the case to the HPSC not too long ago. I can give you their hotline number if you want.”

“They scare me. I would prefer it if it was you who passed the message to them. Are you free later at 4pm?”

“Let me just check my schedule.” You knew you were free but you felt the need to look up the person. “Can I have your name, if that’s alright?”

“Tetsu.”

“Okay, Tetsu-san. Where do you want to meet up? Is a cafe alright? Or do you want a private room in the precinct?”

“A cafe please.”

“Alright, We can meet by the Nooks and Books. ’ll be the one wearing black. I’ll see you later.”

With no greetings, the line ended and you put the phone down. Gathering your stuff, you began to skim through each article you recently read about fires. Granted it had been a while since you last heard any news about fires, the tip was or could be useful. Of course having to talk to the HPSC was something you were not looking forward to.

“Nao, I’ll be taking my leave now. Anything you want me to bring when I come back?” You peaked into his rather messy cubicle. “Geez. Calm down with your cases, buddy.”

“This is only for the meantime.” He scratched his neck and stared at the scattered papers and folders. “I’d like a creampuff, though. A creampuff sounds nice in these trying times.”

“Aight. I’ll bring you a box later.” You said as you exited the floor.

It only took a few minutes but you were now seated in another desk. One where you wished you were not a part of. Greeting the heroes who had just entered the meeting room, you smiled at the sight of Deku and Mirio.

“(l/n)-san! Long time no see!” Deku greeted you and took the vacant seat beside you. “How’s work?”

“Work is work. How’s school? Are you holding up? Must be difficult to juggle this raid and academics.”

“It is but we have supplementary classes so I can manage.”

“Your classmates with Uraraka, Asui, and Kirishima, right?”

“Yeah!”

Exchanging a few more small talk with the heroes, you locked eyes with the hero sitting beside you. The scruffy hair, eyes that looked like they haven’t slept a single second, and the trademark scarf resting on his shoulders. Giving a shy smile, Aizawa merely responded with a lazy nod before Nighteye finally entered the room.

“As you all know, today’s agenda will be task distribution. Let’s get on with the details now, shall we?”

The tasks were distributed rather well. Fatgum Agency would be accompanying the front of the team. Right alongside Nighteye and Aizawa. The other heroes were tasked to stay outside and guard the entrance for any possible nuances that might occur. The police staff were divided into two groups. Being given ample time to assign which officers would be in the outer and inner group, you merely nodded and took the list of names.

‘Great. More work.’ Flipping the pages, most officers were people you had worked with before. At least things wouldn’t be so difficult.

“(l/n)-san?” Nighteye snapped your thoughts away. Adjusting his glasses, he rested his elbows on the desk and leaned in. “How’s the task of bugging Overhaul?”

“I haven’t been in touch with any of them for a few days now. I will be trying this week if the situation allows.”

“Alright. If that succeeds then things will go much smoother and will surely pick up speed. Best of luck. Any questions?”

“Are there any updates about the League of Villains being tied with them?” Deku asked.

“As of the moment, there’s no movement from them. So, it’s safe to assume that they only have minor participation in said event.” Nighteye replied without batting an eyelash. He really was confident in this raid.

Feeling guilt rushing through your veins, you shifted in your seat and silently exhaled. Once Nighteye gave the adjournment, you scurried out of the room and made your way to the cafe. It was a bit traffic but you would still be able to arrive on time. With the cafe being near the station, parking would be no trouble.

When things were now settled, you were now walking towards the cafe and found yourself now standing in front of the cashier and saying your order. Taking your number, you looked for a private booth and sat there. It rested in the corner so Tetsu wouldn’t be too uncomfy.

When the clock struck 4, you were now staring at the lobby waiting for that Tetsu to arrive.

Sure enough, a man with a hood entered the cafe and made eye contact with you. Seeing as he walked towards your booth, it was safe to assume that this was Tetsu.

“Are you Tetsu?” You asked the man wearing the hood. With the sunglasses and mask, you could only make out such little skin his face had.

“I cannot stay long. But I came to hand this over.” He slid a small brown envelope. His head hanging low making sure you wouldn’t catch a glimpse at his covered face. “I hope this can assist your case.”

“To be fair, please stay while I go through the contents of this envelope.” Taking the envelope, you slid the content out only to have a sim card laying flat on your palm. “What kind of information does this hold, Tetsu-san?”

“That information is sensitive so you can check its contents before handing it over.”

“But, I’m not part of the Arson case anymore. Would you still want me to hand this in or redact a few messages.”

Overhaul did not mention you were no longer part of the case. Cursing at how blank his mind was, Kurono glanced at the environment before he exhaled deeply.

“I will only say this once, so listen carefully.” He uttered.

“This isn’t about the Arson case now, is it?” Sliding the sim card back, you carefully placed it inside your bag and focused on Tetsu. The words that came out of his mouth made your heart beat faster. Clenching your fists, you braced for whatever he would say next.

“Kai has been on edge and it’s been such a pain in the ass. I don’t know what the hell made you decide to mention Ackerwacker but you got what you wished for.” Kurono’s voice was low. Barely audible due to the cafe’s music. “But, it would be a lie if I said he hasn’t been more human ever since he met you.”

“Can you take your mask and shades off?”

“You’ll probably just arrest me right here.” Kurono took his shades off revealing familiar gray eyes.

“You were that guy from the restaurant?” Your eyes widened at the realization that Overhaul had interfered that early on. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but ya’ll did me a great favor.”

A slight smirk appeared on his lips as he took the mask off. It felt different having his face exposed after a long time.

“I can see why he took interest in you.”

“Why meet me, though? Wouldn’t this only risk in you being overhauled and shit?”

“I have my ways. Kai instructed me to get rid of his sim card but I don’t know. Perhaps you can make use of it in your private life.”

“Well, to be honest, the heroes don’t fully trust me.” You shrugged. That was nothing new. “It sucks having to juggle work and personal feelings in this particular case. Guess both of us are in a pinch.”

“Perks of being with Kai.”

“You should probably get going… Chronostasis, right?” Putting his disguise back on, a switch flipped in your mind. “Hey you mind if I get your number? If you have one, ofcourse.”

“Why?”

“I like to make my connections.” You winked. When he took out his phone, you in turn took something out of your pocket. Placing it on the table, you pushed the small box towards the villain. “I’ll text you the instructions later, aight?”

“What’s this?”

“You’ll know when you open it.”

With that, Kurono pocketed the small box and left the cafe. When he was out of sight, you rubbed your face and groaned.

“Damn it.”

- - - - -

a/n: hohoho Kurono now enters the picture! hope ya’ll enjoyed this chapter! :) Mimick is still writing down Overhaul’s waiting list! if you guys have any questions or just wanna be tagged :) feel free to spam me! take care!

#overhaul x reader #overhaul #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #chisaki kai x reader #bnha chisaki kai #mha chisaki kai #chisaki kai #bnha chisaki #chisaki x reader

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years ago

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Elliot, Just a Tech

Summary: Plagued by not having Admin rights on your work computer, you contact the IT department expecting to talk to your usual guy. However, you are greeted by someone new.

A/N: Consider this post-show

WC: 2596

Warnings: None

You looked over the icons on your desktop for the eleventh time, dragging the old version of Adobe into the trash for the tenth time, and growling with frustration as the error message appeared for what felt like the hundredth time.

Please enter an Administrator’s Username and Password.

After the great email phishing scam the month prior, the IT department had been directed to revoke all employee’s Admin rights to their computers. It wasn’t your fault your colleagues were too dumb to realize that you should not click on email that has been flagged as spam, even if it is a version of your boss’s name: Mattthew Whitman has scheduled a meeting with you at 9 pm!

As if Matthew spelled with three ts wasn’t enough to deter someone, scheduling a meeting at 9 at night should have been, not to mention the exclamation point to top it all off—no one ever enthusiastically scheduled a meeting. Ever.

Alas, no less than 13 people had opened the email, severely compromising the integrity of the network.

You needed to get rid of the old version of Adobe in order for your network’s cloud to allow the download of the updated version, so you were left with no choice but to submit a ticket to the IT department.

You and Matt, no relation to Mattthew your boss, had had several Zoom sessions since the start of the quarantine, mostly thanks to your need to actually get some work done. With so many more people on your network, the IT department was doing the best it could to make sure everyone was achieving basic functionality.

Opening a new work order, you quickly filled in your information and snapped a screen shot of the error message. In less than a minute, you had an email inviting you to a Zoom session.

“Matt’s really on it today,” you said while opening the link and waiting for him to start the session.

You had just glanced away to check your To-Do list when someone opened the Zoom session and you paused, staring at the downturned face of someone who was definitely not Matt.

“Hi,” you greeted awkwardly.

“Hi,” he answered, still not looking into the camera.

“Where’s Matt?”

The stranger looked into the camera, clearly caught off-guard.

“Uh, he’s off today.”

“So they finally unchained him from his desk—good for him!”

The stranger’s eyes widened a little in amusement, but he didn’t smile which caused your grin to quickly fade.

“Are you . . .” the stranger trailed off as he glanced at his other desktop monitor. “Y/N?”

“I am. And you are?”

“Elliot.”

“Are you the new Supervisor they were hiring for last week?”

“Nope. Just a Tech.”

“All right. Well, hi, Elliot, just a Tech. I’m in dire need of installing an update, which I cannot do because my colleagues are dumbasses.”

This time Elliot did smile, and you found yourself reaching up to fix the wild bun on the top of your head, wishing you had actually taken some time out not to look like a troll who had crawled out from under its bridge.

“I see that you can’t install Adobe’s update without administrative permission.”

“Yup. That’s my issue, I think.”

“I want to try something first,” Elliot said, concentrating on the task at hand as he looked away from the camera and to his other monitor.

“Can you locate your system preferences? You can find it by clicking on the appl-“

“Done. What do you want me to go into?”

Elliot looked back into the camera, then gave you a series of steps which you quickly followed.

“I am only semi-illiterate when it comes to technology,” you said, trying again to get him to smile and this time it worked.

Elliot adjusted his headset and lowered his eyes as he grinned. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to explain over the past few days.”

“Oh, I would absolutely believe them. I’ve talked three people in my department off a ledge just by explaining the magical powers of “Command + Z.”

Elliot chuckled, and the sound of his laughter filtering through the mic on his headset made you want to stay on the call as long as you could stretch it out.

“It looks like the program is not responding. I’ll need to take remote control of your desktop.”

“Have at it.”

You watched as Elliot worked, waiting for your mouse to start moving across the screen, but nothing happened.

“Uh, do you have any error messages on your end?”

“Nope.”

“Let me try one more thing,” Elliot mumbled, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

You sat quietly, letting him work, which gave you an excuse to just look at him and the more you looked at him, the more attractive you realized he was.

Elliot had a stylish haircut, although it looked like his fade had grown in quite a bit thanks to the lockdown. Tufts of straight black hair stood up on either side of his headset and you wondered if they’d be stiff or soft to the touch. His eyes were large, clearly the most enticing of the features of his face, except for his angular jaw that made you softly smile in appreciation of its masculinity. Elliot may consider himself “just a Tech,” but he was a damn good looking one.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you blurted out, forgetting all of your manners thanks to the lack of social interaction.

Elliot fumbled as he was typing and looked into the camera, his lips parted.

“Oh, lord. That came out . . . blunt. I asked because Matt’s been loving working from home. His wife just had a baby and even though he’s chained up in his home office at all hours of the day he still gets to spend time with the people he cares about. Which is what I was trying to ask you—if you were enjoying working from home.” You finished with an awkward laugh, and a barrage of mental curses to yourself.

Elliot’s lip turned up with a quirk. “My sister stops by to bring supplies, but I live alone.”

“Oh—well, that’s nice you have someone to interact with. I still see my sister, too.”

“I like this. Not having to interact with people.”

“The only downside is the verbal vomit you spew when talking to someone new because you no longer understand social protocol.”

Elliot laughed again, that same breathy little chuckle that upgraded from drawing your attention to making you shift in your chair.

“I’ve never been particularly adept at social protocol. Hence . . . just a Tech.”

You laughed and Elliot must have liked the sound because he stopped to watch you, his eyes flicking over your face through the camera.

“You need to update the Zoom app for me to take over your desktop. I don’t know why yours seems to have this glitch, but are you ready for the steps?”

You grabbed your pen and a fresh post-it. “Lay it on me, Tech.”

Elliot smirked, then listed the steps. “I’m going to close the call, but as soon as you’ve completed the steps, click on our Zoom link again.”

“Got it!”

Your eyes connected and lingered for just a moment before Elliot closed out the call.

You missed him immediately.

“Oh, Matt. If I had known Zoom calls could be like this, I’d have dumped you long ago.”

You shook your head to clear it and began to go through the steps Elliot had listed for you. You wanted to get this right to prove to him that you weren’t incompetent.

Having successfully, and quickly, completed all of the steps on your Post-it, you reinitiated the Zoom meeting.

“You’re quick.”

“I’m sure you’re much, much faster,” you said.

“I can only go as fast as the web connection, unfortunately,” Elliot replied, staring into his other monitor again.

“Let’s try this again—remember the steps to give me remote access?”

“I think so . . .” you said, trailing off as you began to click.

You paused, then your mouse began to move without you.

“Excellent job,” Elliot praised and you knew you wanted him to praise you again . . . preferably away from a computer, maybe in a bedroom—

“All right. So I need to delete, reinstall, and wait for an error message that’s been popping up making this a little harder for people to do themselves.”

You watched Elliot control your computer, and once he got to a point where the app was updating, he paused and turned back to the camera.

“About that girlfriend thing you asked me earlier. Are you seeing . . . anyone?”

“I was . . . about six months ago. By the time I was ready to get back on the horse, the plague struck.”

Elliot chuckled. “Not exactly the best time to start dating.”

“No,” you said softly laughing, too. “I agree with you, about the whole nice not seeing people thing, though. For me, it’s more about setting my own schedule. I get so much more done without constant interruptions just to chat.”

“Kinda like we are now?”

“Hey! We are waiting on a signal to go to space and come back. It’s only polite to give it some time so it doesn’t feel like it’s being watched—like a watched pot never boils kinda thing.”

Elliot smiled, his eyes meeting yours and lingering as you smiled back.

A new box popped up breaking your eye contact and Elliot went back to work.

“Fixed. You shouldn’t have to worry about the next update. We’ve been reporting this glitch regularly so the developers should have it fixed by then.”

“Thanks, Elliot. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my job,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” you said, wishing you had a reason to stay connected.

“Yeah.” Elliot replied, looking at you again with those hypnotic, grey-blue eyes. If they could impress you through a screen, imagine what they looked like in person. “You too.”

You smiled at each other and when neither of you closed the call, you both laughed, Elliot looking a little shy and you looking a little embarrassed.

“I’ll close it. Don’t forget to fill in your survey so big brother knows I did my job.”

“Five-star service, all the way!”

Elliot chuckled again, and you shivered this time, the sound of his voice working its way through your entire body, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

“Bye,” he said, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he ended the meeting.

When the session closed out, you began to think of ways to break your computer so you needed to talk to him again, but before you could pull a purposefully dumbass move like downloading a virus, a sticky note popped up on your desktop.

212 555 0179

Probably breaking work protocol, but text me sometime if you want.

~Elliot, just a Tech

“Oh my god!” you gasped, glancing up at your camera to make sure you really were disconnected, unable to shake that feeling like someone was watching you. You reached for your packet of stickers and placed a fresh one over the camera of your computer—better paranoid than sorry!

“Should I text him now? Is that desperate? Or is it mean to make him wait? Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, pacing around your small office space.

“Just a simple hello,” you decided. “First, gotta find my phone.”

After walking through your apartment, you found your phone in the kitchen, unsurprisingly because snacking had become your favorite hobby since the lockdown began. It was a blessing and curse to be able to eat whenever you wanted.

You took your cell back to your computer and smiled again at Elliot’s virtual Post-it note and typed in his number and contact information.

Hi, Elliot ☺️

Hi, Y/N. I hope your emoji means I didn’t creep you out

That’s what this one 😱 is for

Lol. Got it. I don’t really do the emoji thing. They kinda confuse me

Well then! Maybe that’s why we met? You know all the real techy stuff, and I know all the silly techy stuff. I can teach you to emoji like a boss 😎

Sunglasses = boss? Shades? Because bosses are shady?

🤣more like the shades mean you’re just too cool to care. Like a boss attitude. But actually 🤔that’s a really great analysis!

See? Confusing 👽

Confusing as in no one knows what’s really “out there” huh? Wow. I like your way of emojiying (new word, just go with it)

Lol really?

I do!

Can I ask you something?

Sure

Which emoji makes you think of me?

👀🦋💬🧸🧨 😰📱😃

You stared at Elliot’s text, a goofy grin on your face as you tried to puzzle out his emoji story. The eyes, okay, but the rest was sort of a mystery.

Lol! I need to do this in pieces so you can tell me if I’m right or wrong

So, you saw me and thought I was nice? Pretty? Delicate?

Lol pretty

Ok. Thanks, btw. We talked and then, oh boy, this is tough. An exploding bear? Talking to me made you feel like you were going to die? This is not good.

🤣 Poor choice of the firecracker, clearly, but take them as two separate things. What do you associate with a teddy bear?

Um, childhood . . . safety? Protection?

Close! Warm, safe. You seem like a warm, safe person to talk to.

I am grinning like an idiot right now. You are so sweet. But on to the firecracker? Wait! Like sassy? Like I have a firecracker personality?

Yes! You’re funny in a forward, witty way. I guess the “She’s a real firecracker” thing might be a bit outdated.

I LOVE IT. I gotta keep going now. This part is easy, I think. Sooo even though you felt nervous, you took a chance and left me your cell, and now you know it was a good choice because you made me happy.

Almost—when you texted, it made ME happy. Hence 😃 and I have big eyes so I used the big eye happy face.

I.am.dying. That’s the cutest thing anyone has ever done over a text in the history of the world!

Lol. Is there a dramatic emoji because I don’t think anything I’ve ever done is that great.

This WAS great. I’m serious

Do you wanna maybe have dinner over Zoom? God how lame is that?

You respect the quarantine—not lame at all. I’d love to!

They let me unchain myself around 6. I’ll send you a link at 7?

Perfect! But what are we going to order? Shouldn’t we order from the same place to make it more authentic?

Do you like Chinese?

Who doesn’t?

You looked at the location Elliot sent and laughed with the irony that it was your favorite take-out spot.

How did you know that was my favorite take-out spot?

Lucky guess 🤷🏽‍♂️

Well, lucky Elliot who is just a Tech. I’ll “see” you at 7. If we order the same dinner, I’ll consider it a sign that we are meant to take over the world together by eliminating one dumbass’s access to a computer at a time 🦸‍♀️🦸‍♂️

Lol except that would leave me out of a job

We will find you something more meaningful, I promise

Make me a list 😃

You got it! Can’t wait for 7 ☺️

Me either

* * * * *

Tags: @ramimedley @clumsybookworm18 @r-ahh-mi @aboutthatmelancholystorm @alottanothing @sherlollydramoine @txmel @diasimar @hah0106 @flipper-kisses @rami-malek-trash @ramisgirl512 @dancing-disco-deacy @just-a-queen-bee @eightiesriot

Maybe a Part II?

#Elliot Alderson #elliot alderson x reader #female reader (but it is pretty ambiguous)#elliot alderson fanfic #elliot alderson imagine #fluff #for now #Rami Malek character #rami malek fanfiction

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kitkats-mikrokosmos · 4 years ago

Text

you who led me through that maze, you are my light - chapter 1: such stuff as dreams are made

crossposted on ao3

genre: fluff, slowish burn, romance pairing: ot7 x reader summary: ❝ this rain, too, is coming to an end i won’t let go of your hand anymore i wish that you would love me ❞

(or the one in which bighit holds a raffle for army to spend 4 months with bts in a remote lakehouse, and you win)

word count: 1390 warnings: cursing

see author notes at the end

Words could not begin to describe the cocktail of emotions that shot straight through your veins as you stared down at your phone.

"Dear (L/N) (F/N), Congratulations! You've won the raffle! Please contact us by January 31st, 2021 to claim your prize. We look forward to hearing from you. -BigHit Entertainment"

This had to be a joke, right? There was no way that this was real. Spam or a cruel joke from your family or maybe this was a dream.

You reached over and pinched your forearm. Hard.

The only thing that resulted was an explosion of stinging pain across your nerves and involuntary tears springing to your eyes.

So this wasn't a dream. But that still left spam or a joke.

It was totally in character for either of your brothers to pull something like this. But you didn't know if they knew how to spoof an email address, and, as you peered at the screen, you realized that address looked very official.

Quickly, you opened an incognito browser and did a Google search for BigHit's email address (addresses?). There was no guarantee of credibility, but still, it was better than operating under the assumption of goodwill. That was the sort of thing that got you hacked and all of your data sold on the dark web, and that was something you'd rather avoid. Once you'd found emails that looked like they might be correct, you opened the email again to compare them. The result had your heart hammering in your chest and your pulse fluttering in your throat like hummingbird wings.

They were almost identical.

This was probably the real deal.

You leaned back in your chair, a bark of disbelieving laughter leaving your lips.

Well shit.

You had some plans to make, you guess.

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

"Dear (L/N) (F/N), We discussed what you mentioned in your last email, and, in the effort of making you more comfortable, we thought that we might send the boys out one at a time to join you in the as-of-yet undisclosed location. You would have a week to get to know each other individually before another member would join you both. Is this sufficient? -BigHit Entertainment"

"Dear BigHit Entertainment, That sounds great! Thank you so much for being so understanding. I really appreciate it. -(F/N) (L/N)"

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

"Your plane will leave tomorrow at 6:00 AM. Sorry, but that ended up being the most convenient time."

"It's fine, I understand," you said, smiling even though you wanted to cry at the thought of waking up at 4 in the morning so that you could make the plane ride. You'd have to make an emergency order from Target for a couple of those Starbucks frappucinos. You absently scrawled a reminder to yourself down onto a sticky note that you stuck to your corkboard, phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear.

Oh, how you missed the days when you could just drive to the store down the road and pick up whatever junk food you happened to be craving at the moment.

Still, life goes on.

"All precautions will be taken, of course. Still, when you arrive in Seoul, you'll be required to quarantine for two weeks. I know you've already been informed, but I just wanted to double-check one more time: you are okay with this, correct?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

You'd expected it, in fact. They couldn't have known for certain that the ARMY that won the raffle would be from Korea, and there were all sorts of travel restrictions, worsened by winter - that they could fly you in at all was nothing short of a miracle. Quarantine seemed obvious.

You'd rather not spend time holed up in some hotel or someplace for fourteen days, waiting to see if you'll start displaying symptoms, but you'd also rather not get other people sick by accident - especially not the boys. The only way those two things could coincide was if the pandemic was over, and, unfortunately, things weren't there yet. You were still praying for a vaccine, but in the meantime.

"All right, I believe that's everything. We look forward to meeting you, (L/N)-ssi."

"I look forward to meeting you, too. Thank you. I really appreciate this opportunity."

It sounded like the person on the other end was smiling when they replied, "Of course. Have a good day."

"You, too."

"Bye."

You hung up and turned in your chair. Your suitcases were packed and waiting by the front door, and butterflies swooped in your stomach. In less than 24 hours, you'd be hopping on a plane to Korea, and in a little more than 2 weeks, you'd be meeting BTS.

Already, you were nervous. You couldn't imagine how much of a wreck you'd become as the day approached. Still, that was something for future-you to deal with. Present-you had enough on your plate.

First order of business: ordering coffee.

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

You blinked blearily up at the airport.

Where to now? you wondered as you stepped through the automatic doors. Multiple signs blinked at you to please wear a mask, and you adjusted yours a little, fixing it on the bridge of your nose. You glanced around. There weren't any obvious directions or anything.

"Uh, are you (Y/N) (L/N)?" an unfamiliar voice spoke.

You turned.

A woman in a pressed blue uniform and a matching mask stood there. She stopped the mandatory six feet away, and, judging from the crinkles of her eyes, she was smiling at you.

"That's me," you said, reshouldering your carry-on bag.

"Excellent!" she chirped, in true customer service fashion.

You felt bad for her, having to be this upbeat at ass o'clock in the morning. Maybe she could recommend you her coffee brand. Or maybe she was just fueled by spite like you'd been when you worked at the coffee shop downtown. Opening was always a fucking nightmare.

"Please follow me." She gestured onwards, then began walking.

You trailed behind.

"I'll take you to security," she continued as she walked, her heels clicking against the linoleum. "You'll be flying on a private plane today. Whoever's flying you out must really want to be sure you're safe." She paused. "And have a lot of money." She gave a tottering laugh.

You probably would've found the joke funnier if you were actually awake, but alas. You'd had two of your three coffees already, but there was only so much caffeine could do when it was up against the existential nightmare of an early morning.

Luckily, she didn't seem particularly daunted by her less-than-enthusiastic audience. Instead, she kept chattering on - about what, you weren't sure; you were having an incredibly hard time focusing your foggy brain to focus on anything for longer than 0.2 seconds.

You were flying to Korea. Jesus Christ. The reality was finally sinking in - as much as it could, given your current state. What country had you saved in a past life to be this lucky?

You likewise went through security in a daze, still reeling. You were only slightly more coherent when you were boarding the plane.

The flight attendant gave you a sympathetic smile and advised that you try to get some sleep - it was going to be a long flight.

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

14 hours later, give or take, the plane had touched down in Seoul. You disembarked and were immediately swept away, rushed through customs before being deposited into the care of BigHit employees. One notable employee being Kim Hyun-Woo, whom had been the one you communicated with primarily as this whole thing was being set up.

He greeted you with a wide grin. "It's so great to finally be able to meet you in person, (L/N)-ssi."

You tried to return his smile as best you could. "You as well." You yawned. "Sorry, that was a really long flight."

"I understand." He nodded and gestured to the car. "If you'll climb inside, we'll take you to the hotel you'll be staying at for the duration of your quarantine."

You did so, and you were soon on your way.

You watched Seoul's cityscape slide by, the brilliant lights offset by the dark of the night, and you wondered why it was that you felt like your life was about to change. Forever.

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

Short first chapter I know, but the next chapter will be longer - and juicier. You’ll be joined by the first member next chapter, so be sure to vote to decide who that’ll be.

#bts x reader #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #interactive fanfiction

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thexam-union · 3 years ago

Text

Riverside Relaxing

First fic to be put up here!! It’s the Chessy Boys up first, which surprises me just as much as it might surprise you! It’s just some soft fluff because that’s what got made :>

Length: 2031 Words

General Overview: It’s too hot outside, and the gang get together to cool off by the water in Land of the Tiger. Also ship moments between Tevel and Apollyon!! They’re grooving!

Warning(s): Mentions of heatstroke (no incidents or harm done, simply concern)

( If you need anything else tagged/forewarned about let me know!! )

The worst thing about the Digsite was the heat. The baking sun made it borderline impossible to work during the middle of the day, the sun’s glare roasting everything through to the point of burning without any hesitation. It was fine when nothing was scheduled, but when you were stuck there all day waiting for sunset? Pain. Suffering, even.

Tevel half-heartedly pushed open the door to Alcor’s office, the beige and yellows of the walls being anything but welcoming as they set themselves down in the chair after haphazardly hanging their jacket on the back of it.

“Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say, but what are you here for?” Alcor said with a short, sharp glare in their direction, before looking back at the computer screen on their desk. He seemed taken aback when they gestured towards the ceiling he got in response. Specifically, the fan. Normally when Tevel comes in all sheepish, it’s probably because something broke, so this was a surprise. “Right.”

“How mad would you be if I said I’m just hanging out here for that and that you’ll have to put up with me or let me go elsewhere.”

“Not very, but that’s just today.” Alcor simply shrugged behind his glasses, sipping at his drink before putting the fan in front of him in Tevel’s direction. “I’m glad you haven’t broken anything.”

“In this weather? No way, I wouldn’t. Thanks, by the way. But yeah, who’s in your personally-manned hell of emails today?” It was a joke, but clearly not anything rough-sounding. Surprising, given it’s Tevel of all people, but he already knew they didn’t like his email practices.

“The Marquess, and a few other people. You don’t get the emails.”

“I’ll level with you, chief, I’ve got your address marked as spam. Doesn’t work, though, you’ll be glad to know. Also, Aludra’s letting people hang out. I know you’re as antisocial as they come, and that neither of us like each other, but it’ll hurt my one entire moral,” They very dramatically put up their index finger, “If I don’t tell you and you get heatstroke.”

“Right. I’m glad you’re conscious of safety on the digsite. I’m actually surprised you didn’t just go.” Tevel shrugged. “Or did you want the go-ahead for tonight to be cancelled first? I know you used the last workplace safety book I gave you as a fuse to spite me. Impressive, but you know how I feel about that sort of thing.”

“Yeah mostly I guess. Heatstroke sucks, and I like to annoy you. Not almost kill you with negligence. Anyway, if you want to CC the information to people that don’t even go here, fine by me, I’m leaving. See you there, yeah?”

“Mhm. I’ll be right out. Thank you, Tevel. Are you sure you’re alright?” They’d just stood up and picked up their jacket, holding it over their arm as their sunhat covered their eyeline. “You’re acting a little strangely, today.”

“I’m fine. It’s too hot to blow up the place, and I can’t burn down Aludra’s place, I’ll feel so bad.”

“I thought you had one moral standard.” Wait, did Alcor just make a joke? What the fuck. What the fuck? He even laughed and everything.

“Uh-- Right, uh, stay hydrated? I’m going.” And with that, the office door was closed and they were braving the sun again. That was so weird? Alcor had never made a joke, and they’d known each other for years. It was mostly disappointed and annoyed glaring in their direction. At least he was going to cool off later? Acting weird is a heatstroke thing, even when you have the fans in the area in your office you’re not safe, they supposed. But, they did their bit, and it was time for some - as Lesath put it - “much needed splashy splashy”.

To be honest, everyone apart from the Marquess was going to be there now Alcor’d been convinced, and even then, Aludra had been trying to set up a nice canopy so the Marquess could get out more? Unsure, though, they weren’t in the building things business. More the blowing things up business. More their speed.

Walking down to Aludra’s perch took a very short amount of time, and getting under the forest cover was all they needed to get going, really! The comfort of the running water was also very nice, although they didn’t expect a short tap on the shoulder. There, but short.

“Hey, chief, what’s up?” They asked, knocking their hat brim up a little.

“I haven’t been officially invited, so I think my presence would go over better if I’m with someone who was invited, if you get what I mean.” Tevel shrugged. “That’s common practice for social engagements.”

“Yeah, but it’s also Aludra. If she can put up with your slew of emails, she can put up with you in person. Plus I don’t think she dislikes anyone. I gotta say, you’re acting off.”

“Off..? How so? I feel fine.”

“Yeah. Too... Person-y.” Tevel made a vague gesture with their hands, like someone would when describing the movement of a bug. “And that sorta thing’s a sign of heatstroke. You’re my boss who’s allergic to fun, and I heard you make a joke earlier.”

“I assure you, I’m fine. I’m not allergic to fun, I’m allergic to your idea of fun. You’re about as self-aware as a teabag at times.” He sighed, shaking his head, but Tevel seemed… happy with that response? And he was the one that was acting strangely?

“That’s the Alcor that I know.” Tevel half-cackled as they tended to, swinging their jacket so it was over their shoulder rather than over their arm. “Good to hear you’ve still got it, chief. Was actually half-worried something’d happened to ya.”

“I appreciate the concern for my safety? That’s weird coming from you, though.”

“Eh. I like things being consistent and-”

“You’re a demolitionist. What part of that is ordered?”

“Explosions happen in the same way almost every time, and it’s pretty. Consistent behaviour’s what helps me sleep at night, I’m sure you can agree on that.” Tevel laughed, nudging Alcor with their arm as they got to the clearing, and the others were starting to come into view. “Besides, I do pay attention to safety laws. I’m qualified, actually.”

Apollyon had their shirt - jacket? - open over her swimsuit, Lesath was curled up on a well-made perch, Aludra had her laptop open a bit away from the water, and even the Marquess was out here! She was sitting on a deck chair near the side of the water under a parasol, though clearly not dressed for it. Hell, even Citala’d been convinced to drop by! That was slightly less impressive than Tevel of all people dragging Alcor along, but the gap wasn’t that big!

“Yo, you brought him along? How?” Apollyon asked as the pair got up to the side of the water, Tevel sitting on the edge of the waterfront beside her and Alcor settling near Aludra, who’d put down her laptop. Probably to talk to each other rather than sending emails.

“Concern about heatstroke.” With a wink and a slight poking of the tongue, Tevel yawned and leaned back. “It’s so cool here I love it so much.”

“And he set with that? I’d thought he’ll drag you over to my place to toss you in the hoosegow instead of coming over!”

“Consider the following, Apple, it’s Aludra’s thing, right? And look at them.” Apollyon nodded a little. “No one can say no to Aludra, sure as hell not him, you know?”

“Them? Mashed? I didn’t know she had taste that bad!” They looked around everyone else, who seemed quite happy to spend a hot afternoon there. “I didn’t know she did that at all to be completely fair. Same with Alcor, he’s a barn sour and that’s it, I thought. Clawing at the gate when he has to leave it.”

“Yeah? I don’t know, I don’t talk to her much and Alcor’s harder to talk to than a brick most of the time.” Apollyon laughed a little at that. “But yeah, bad taste if true, but also the only thing I thought he loved was his email inbox, and I’m probably right on that one.”

“Yeah, he’s a bit of an odd stick, isn’t he? But enough about your work, how you doing, Tev?” Apollyon reached into a small covered hamper crate on their side of the water, and passed over a can of soft drink, cold to the touch. Perfect. “Also, love to see everyone get together like this, y’know? So glad Morava had the idea.”

“This was his idea?”

“Well yeah. Aludra can’t say no to anyone, and Morava’s all over logistics. He got all of us a half-crate of our favoureds, who else would get that done? Even Ali’s roaming around here, she’s having a great time!”

“True! I’m just glad I don't have to do work today, you know how it is.” Apollyon nudged Tevel in the side for that, setting both theirs and her own hat down on top of the drink crate in that order.

“You? Not wanting to blow things to high heaven?” She gave a slight laugh in response to her own point, before taking a sip of drink.

“More likely than you’d think, Apple! It’s dangerous in high heat. You should know that. As much as I joke about ignoring safety, I do pay attention to a little bit. Don’t tell anyone, though, I have a reputation.”

“Secret’s safe with me, Tev. Will say, very surprised the Marquess came down. Must be awkward. She’s just kind of sitting up there with Citala, y’know?”

“I mean if she’s happy to be here? I don’t know her that well. And no, not your time to go ‘I’ll check it out’ and get us both in it. I like being the spooky chaos one no one knows in any meaningful way.”

“Consider the following: Some of us want to know you. Perceive you. Behold you, even.” Apollyon said, looking directly at Tevel for a moment. “You’re knowable! Sorry Tev, I know you! I don’t know how you got here without letting me be there to see you.”

“And to that I say: I better not be! You’re different, though. You know that.”

“If I don’t get to know you I’ll actually be a little upset.” Apollyon laughed a little, yawning before stretching, although it was a quiet invitation for Tevel to lean on her. “You’re one of the funner people to be around.”

“I’m sure you would think that, Apple. You’re also very biased.” Tevel replied, pulling Apollyon’s arm over them in a way that was comfortable for both of them. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, though. You get to see me outside of work.”

“Mhm. Don’t you think your relationship with everyone else would improve if you were knowable, though? I know you want that.” Apollyon had started to gently run their hands through Tevel’s hair with a gentle smile, as they were just comfortable with their eyes closed and resting more on her lap than her shoulder at this point.

“But having to actually talk to people though. Plus, I’m not moving. You can suffer.”

“Oh, I’m suffering with my beloved lying on my lap. The struggle of being with the person I care about most. The anguish that comes with having a day off and spending it with you.” She said with a dramatic emphasis and feigned a fever for a moment. “We’ll improve your mess later.”

“I can’t believe this.” Tevel sounded offended, but didn’t really mean it. After all, how could they? They did in fact sign up for it.

“I hoodwinked you real good, darlin’. Until then, just us, okay?” A wink from Apollyon, and a laugh. This was going to be a rough few weeks, but if Apollyon really thought it was this good idea, then it probably was? Who knew. But hey, it was something for Future Tevel to think about, not the Tevel at this moment by the river. They were more than content.

#chessington ocs #fic #theme park ocs #🗺️ } The Adventurers' Realm #🖋️ } Beltrame's Writing #🎠 } Beltrame's Jesters #📜 } Forbidden Kingdom #🐯 } Land of the Tiger #🧭 } Tevel #📒 } Alcor #🦂 } Apollyon #everyone else is mentioned but anything but loadbearing #cw heatstroke mention #didn't expect this to go where it did #love it all the same though!

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lucarioisinthevoid · 4 years ago

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Twitch Streamer AU???

(I planned on pushing out a FEW AU asks, but then realized I don’t even have so many. There’s going to be a FNAC event, but that will be an event, not a specific AU ask, so- I guess this is it! Very cursed AU, thank you very much Anon Small warning for mentions of blood, I think? Nothing too bad.)

Streamers, youtubers, content creators. Some people are all of these, some people are none, and some are just one- because each of them needed a very different talent. Those who could do seemingly everything were few and far between- And they ruled the entertainment scene! Thankfully though, the main three as most called them, were also always out for new content to watch. Thus they boosted those that they saw potential in. With some taking the boost and then going off to do their own thing- And some becoming good friends. It always started with a letter. Mike had the habit to do things on stream, as long as no personal details were not visible on them. He used a false email which he regularly changed, and he generally kept himself as safe as possible. Opening emails on stream could be rather fun, even if it was a risk. Sometimes it encouraged people to send bad things- So to prevent the worst, nothing would be downloaded and all emails containing images would be put into the spam bin. Better safe than sorry, the internet was full of terrible people. This day so far had been successful. And by successful it meant that Mike was SCREAMING. “I HATE SUPER MEAT BOY. I WILL COMMIT VIOLENCE AGAINST MEAT IN A MINUTE. I HAVE A BIG F-CKING STEAK IN THE KITCHEN, AND I WILL THROW IT AGAINST THE F_CKING WALL. I WILL GET A HAMMER.” The chat was going wild, cheering. The chat’s phrase of today was “tender Mikey” and it didn’t help at all. “I DID. NOT. HIT THAT! I DID NOT!” A donation popped up, with a robotic voice. ‘Oh hai Mark!’ “NOT FUNNY! NOT F-CKING FUNNY. I’M SUFFERING HERE AND ALL OF YOU SUPPORT IT. YOU’RE ALL F-CKING MONSTERS HERE, I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT. AND I’M NOT F-CKING TENDERIZING THE MEAT WHEN I SLAP IT AROUND, I’LL RIP IT INTO PIECES AND CONSUME IT RAW!” Standing up, he genuinely went to get it- And fifteen minute later he had slightly calmed down, his hands and room slightly bloody. The chat was still celebrating and donating- another thing that never failed to make Mike BEG them to stop and use the money for something GOOD and SENSIBLE, LIKE THEM-FUCKING-SELF- but he had gotten out most of the energy. “Alright. Alright everyone. ENOUGH. I gotta stop you HERE. It’s email time.” A celebratory jingle played, as Mike booted up the website, opening the inbox. Memes, storytime, I’m-not-fucking-reading-that-and-you-know-it, and- One of the emails caught his- and the chat’s- attention, however. Sender: Fazbear Entertainment Topic: Challenge Needless to say- once again the chat was out of control and this time there was NOTHING Mike could do to stop them. After opening the email, Mike slowly took a deep breath and looked into the camera, between concerned and honored- But that wouldn’t be enough to rip him from his carefully maintained persona. So he audible scoffed- albeit him being unable to hide an excited grin. “Alright bitches and bastards in the audience- we’re firing SuperMeatBoy up again. You won’t be catching ME losing to a pink son of a bitch anytime soon!” After the letter- provided it was accepted and responded to, the production happened. The deal was that a teaser was dropped on the big channel- The entire video itself was put on the smaller one, attracting the viewers over and hopefully make them more likely to want to see the other works the creator had put out. It was a win-win overall, the big channel being able to vary their content, testing the water for new things- and the smaller channel getting a boost and a lot of tips from very experienced creators. Henry and Dave were very generous people. Jeremy was sitting there, taking deep breaths, trying to stay calm. So far, everyone seemed to be rather kind, even if Jeremy was basically a complete nobody. Hell, he never wanted to be anybody. He just wanted to stream himself baking, for those who never had someone baking with them. Because baking could feel stressful, especially when you were missing ingredients or- many reasons, actually. Not only baking, but cooking too- Sometimes playing games on request, but not much in terms of requests ever came in. And now he was here in an actual studio, soon to be seen by an insane amount of people. A cooking competition. Sounded silly- you couldn’t really FIGHT in something like that… But… Henry and Dave had promised it would be fun. And they were nice. With and without the cameras rolling. Speaking off- There they were, approaching, their assistant coming along. He wore a weird phone-head, to ensure his privacy. Or something. It was kinda weird, but he had just accepted the answer he got. “Why, there you are, Jeremy! Would you like to see the equipment we have prepared?” Henry warmly asked, reaching down with his hand to help his guest stand up. “We have gotten a few extra things, just in case.” As they entered the studio, Jeremy’s invisible eyes went WIDE. “Woah- that looks really nice! I love it here! This is high quality stuff-!” “Fantastic!” Pleased Henry opened his arms in his typical theatrical manner- Before being abruptly interrupted by Dave jumping in, halfway over Henry’s shoulder. “ARE YA READY TO GO!? CAMERAS ARE READY!” “Ah- I- I guess- but-“ “YOU HEARD HIM, BOYS! GET IT ROLLIN’!” “W-wait, I don’t even have-“ “Everyone! Welcome to NOTHIN’ AT ALL!” Henry swiftly fitted in, continuing on with the intro. “Todays challenger is the man, the legend, the baker and occasional chef- Jeremy from Baking With Jeremy!” “Wait, what- that’s seriously your channel name, pal?” A bit offended Jeremy looked into the eyes of the people behind the camera. “U-uh- you guys here- I mean- he has literally called his channel Henry Miller! I- uhm- I-“ Snickering Henry put a hand on his guest’s shoulder. “You are very right about that. Say, are you nervous about losing?” “… n-no. I mean- maybe a little. This place here is big and very professional and I’m not used to many people looking at me…” Taking a deep breath, he gave off a nervous smile for the audience. “… yet, I know- it’s a good thing! And as long as everyone has fun, everything will work out!” “Awwwww, look at him!” Dave said, pleased. “You’re so right! We’ll be havin’ fun!” “But also, I will win.” Henry pointed out. “That is when I have the most fun.” Slightly playful Jeremy smiled. “K-keep that attitude, that will make it even easier to blindside you!” Simon whistled, clearly bemused as he held the camera in place- And Henry smirked. “Sure. Anyhow, the stakes are-“ “Steaks? We’re makin’ steaks? I thought we planned on-“ “Dave. I swear to god.” Henry looked at him from the side, before shaking his head. “What is on the line is easy to see- we have roughly an hour to cook the best meal. If Jeremy wins, we will donate 5000 to a charity of his choice!” “And if the young pal loses, he’ll be joinin’ our channel!” Dave chirped. This was news to the brown-haired boy. “W-wait, we never agreed to that-“ “GET TO YOUR STATIONS!” Someone in the back announced. “WHO’S TODAYS FAVORITE?” Simon checked the stream. “The chat says Jeremy is a clear winner. Nobody trusts Henry to keep his two braincells together for long enough to not forget the salt or something.” “Excuse?!” Not only Henry was APPALLED by the chat, Dave joined right in. “Ya guys have NO taste. I’ll be clearly winnin’… but hey, maybe ya peeps don’t know that I plan to cheat!” Surprised Jerry looked over to Dave’s cooking station. “How… how can you cheat at cooking-“ Before he could finish his sentence, he shrieked as Dave pulled out a flamethrower. “HELL YEAH BABY, I AIN’T WAITING 30 MINUTES FOR SOMETHING TO COOK IN THE OVEN, I’LL BE DONE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES MAX!” “W-WAIT THAT DOESN’T SEEM SAVE-“ Henry just raised his hands, cheerful. “Ready… set…” The Phone Guy made eye- well, rotary- contact with Jeremy, slightly raising a fire extinguisher that was by his side. … alright, it seemed the people here were well-prepared for this scenario. So instead he focused on the ingredients in front of him. Almost manic, Henry’s voice rang. “GO!” And… … that was it! Some joined, with amazing results- Mike rubbed his face. “Who thought that was a great idea. I fucking hate this.” Dave next to him on the couch just grinned. “It’s amazin’ what these websites all offer to sell. You won’t be BELIEVIN’ what’s in this box!” “I’M NOT OPENING IT.” “YOU WILL. OTHERWISE IT’LL HUNT YOUR DREAMS. I’LL PUT THIS BOX NEXT TO YOUR BED. YOUR TOILET. ONTO YOUR DINNER TABLE. INTO THE FRIDGE. I’LL ORDER MORE OF THESE BOXES.” “Jesus CHRIST, calm DOWN-“ “I WILL FIGHT YA TO THE DEATH OLD PAL-“ - and some people just went back to the usual pattern, with the occasional raid from Fazbear Entertainment. They asked first, of course. Each of them fulfilled their own niche, each of them had caught Henry’s and Dave’s attention in one way or another. Henry and Dave however- Well, Dave was the varied creator. Henry liked his niche. He played horror, investigated ARGs, read stories about real and fictional crimes against humanity. The world was a terrible place, wasn’t it? Yet he reveled in it. Aside from that he showed extra effects, he built machines and thought everyone one or another thing about creating special effects at home. From dry ice to genuinely ridiculous chain-reactions, Henry showed them it all. Blood too, multiple forms of it, depending on how and where it would be used. Sometimes breaking it off with more light-hearted one-off games and listening to what his community wanted to see… but the most comfortable he was with horror and analysis. He was a youtuber, a streamer, a content creator… … and one thing more. It wasn’t easy to find the code. But his intended audience were a very small amount of people. A small number of strangers. There was no way to know if anyone ever made it to more than one show, but Henry did not care. It wasn’t for them that he did this. Him and William moved down, down below the set, into the lowest regions of the house. The workshop. Nobody really question why you added what to your home if you were a creative person. Even less so if you were a famous, eccentric creator. Yes, the free reign was what he REALLY loved about his job. Maybe he should build his studio somewhere else- But like this it was so much more thrilling! Wordlessly both of them put on their suits. It would hide their identity perfectly- especially the animal heads that contorted their voices a bit. Enough. Today’s participant wore a mask too- another phone head, differently made, different style, but to hide their identity too. However, the voice was in no way muffled. Panicked the person dragged on the chains keeping them attached to the chair. “H-HELLO!? HELLO!? S-SOMEONE- IS SOMEONE HERE!?” A noisy one! Delightful! Both Fredbear and Springbonnie stepped out of the shadows, one form each side. While Springbonnie put his hands gently on the shoulders of the whimpering person, Fredbear stepped in front of the camera, bowing. “Ladies and gentlemen-“ The low voice sounded more like the one of an animal than from a person. Yet it was smooth and comforting. “- I welcome you to yet another installment of our show. I am Fredbear, and over there is my wonderful assistant, Springbonnie. Today we have brought a simple stranger, a nobody who might not even be missed. Thusly I encourage you to truly be creative with your ideas. And while your votes roll in, maybe I point out that next time we will have another little game-show, with quite the effects. We might even get a real bull! You will not want to miss it.” The board above the camera blinked up, as a bitter fight of votes started, everyone wanting to see something else. Three tiers to vote on! Foreplay (light injuries), main course (heavy injury leading to death) and of course what to do with the body. Below it was a little measure for “face reveal”. Some of their viewers really enjoyed seeing the expressions during and after. It came with a risk to Fredbear and Springbonnie, as the victim being recognizable meant their general area of activity was more obvious- thus it was incredibly expensive. They knew there was every now and again law enforcement mixed up between the genuine watchers. It was thrilling too- Yet Fredbear wanted to keep this game alive as long as he could. Thus it was important to hide what they could. Fredbear was a creator first and foremost, an entertainer second- And there was nothing that attracted an HONEST, an UNRESTRAINED, a PURE audience quite like violence. Once blood spilled, humans degraded and it was wonderful. Behind him, the victim began rattling even more erratic. “WHAT- WHAT IS THIS?! LET ME OUT- PLEASE- LET ME OUT- PLEASE- I- DIDN’T DO ANYTHING-“ Burying his hands into the shoulders of Springbonnie downright cackled, enjoying the mania that always accumulated in these situation. “Be still, new friend! The audience HATES too much whining, y’know? And at least you could die with your tongue still intact, wouldn’t that be nicer than having to swallow the thing? Once it almost killed someone, boy, that sure was a bother!” His voice was changed to a cartoonish, upbeat pitch- “While the votes come in, how about we quiz today’s friend… maybe if you are smart enough, they will want you to live! It happened before… o n c e.” Fredbear took out a long scalpel, the face a morbid grimace. “Surprise us!”

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lifeinahole27 · 5 years ago

Text

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 8/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings: Please be aware that this chapter discusses professor/student relations in the past, non-consensual pictures in the past, and some present, consensual, loving, and happy sexual relations. Gotta find a balance somehow. (This chapter also nicknamed "The One where Sarah calls out a shitty storyline from FRIENDS.)

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 8: Unearthed

It takes time, but they both manage to get out some of the difficult parts of their pasts. Emma tells Killian snippets of her former relationships, including why she ran from Henry the first time she saw him. Graham’s story is kept brief, Walsh is brushed off as a bad experience. Killian is patient about it, holding her hand and listening closely. She can see the questions forming behind his eyes, but he never pushes for more info than she’s willing to share.

He’s hiding bits of his own past, too. He’s very open about the accident that took his hand, how he grew up in Liam’s shadow but preferred it that way, and his strong passions for fiction and poetry. But when it comes to information about his time in university, she sees the way his shoulders tense. There’s a lack of enthusiasm when he speaks of his master’s studies. She’s seen the picture of him at graduation that sits in his office. She knows there’s more to the story.

They’re watching television one night, background noise as he works on some edits. With the money they got for upgrades, Emma purchased a shiny new laptop, one specifically loaded with the software to digitize the town’s records, and so they work on their own stuff together.

Something on the screen that neither of them are glued to must catch his attention, however. It’s a rerun, something that used to be popular but has now reached syndication and thus plays on every channel when there’s downtime. It’s something Emma’s seen enough times that she knows the general storyline without really even paying attention. It’s the one where a professor starts a relationship with a student.

While she’s mostly tuning it out, it seems Killian is finally tuning in, and she looks up as he lurches for her television remote and hits the power button. His breathing is visibly quicker than it should be. Even when the screen goes dark, there’s a tension around his eyes she has never seen before.

“You okay?” she asks, mostly because she’s not sure he remembers she’s there right now.

He shakes himself a little bit, brushing off the moment for all she can tell, before he turns to her. “Hate this show,” he responds.

“It’s been on for the last hour.”

As he focuses on her face, she can see the moment he sheds whatever was trying to creep up on him. “I was pretty deep in my work. I do apologize, love.” He’s lying, but she’s willing to let it go if it’s something from his past that he doesn’t want to talk about.

“Hey, no worries.” She reaches out, squeezing his bicep once for comfort. “You want coffee? Tea?”

“I’ll get it. What would you like?”

“Surprise me,” she says, knowing that he’ll bring back the hot chocolate he knows she loves.

By the time he returns, the tightness on his face has eased up a bit, but it’s replaced with something she would call contemplation. “Swan, I want to tell you a little piece of my past, but I hope you won’t judge me too hard or let it change the way you feel about me.”

“A little ominous, but okay. Go for it.”

“Back in university, I was involved with one of my professors.”

Emma takes a moment to let it absorb, trying not to flinch or let her facial expressions change at all. It’s his past, and she knows just as well that those moments shouldn’t define the current moment.

“Tell me about it?”

“As you know, Liam convinced me to enroll in university as a way to pull me out of my slump after I lost my hand. He helped find out if I could take my classes online since I wasn’t ready to go out into the world.”

Emma reaches over, closing her fingers over the hook attachment he has on today. It’s become second nature, but sometimes she wants to tell him without words that she accepts him for who he is and this is one of those moments.

“Eventually, I was comfortable going to classes on campus. I was engrossed in all things to do with writing and literature and editing, and knew that’s the direction I wanted to take. And then I met Milah, one of the professors for a professional writing class. And she was just that for a while, and then when I entered into my master’s studies, we sort of…crossed the boundaries when she was helping me with a project.”

“Milah was married, is married, though they are separated. Her husband, some wealthy bastard, agreed that if she was discreet that they could see other people. He wasn’t anticipating that she would take up with a student, former or otherwise.

“What did he do?”

“Threatened to expose the affair to the university. Milah would’ve been fired. I would’ve likely been expelled. He said he would divorce her and cut her off from his wealth. He only agreed to back off when Milah and I split and I filed to finish my master’s online, much as I began the whole journey.”

“Was the money that important to her?” It’s the question that hits; she can tell immediately.

He grimaces before answering. “She liked to pretend it wasn’t. Painted herself as a free spirit that didn’t need wealth. But it didn’t stop her from walking away from me like it meant nothing.”

Without even prodding, Emma can see that the story isn’t done. She adjusts her grip on him and waits for him to continue.

“I almost didn’t finish my degree after that. I started drinking heavily every chance I got. Took Liam a couple weeks to figure out what was going on, pried out what had happened, and then intervened. He’s the only reason I still completed my coursework.”

“He sounds like a good brother.”

“Right pain in the arse, but yes, he is.”

“You really loved her?”

“Aye. She’s the only person outside my own family that I ever professed my love for.” He’s quiet for a moment before meeting her eyes once more. “Have you ever been in love, Swan?”

“Maybe I thought I was, once,” she admits. Mostly, she realizes that the feelings she thought she had for Neal and the ones she told Walsh she had were nothing compared to the way Killian makes her feel. “Thanks for sharing all of this with me.”

“I figured you should know,” he tells her, simple as that.

When Friday rolls around, she’s all set to join her boyfriend and friends in public. Normally, Emma would be one of the first to ditch out on work and get to their usual spot in the bar, but tonight she’s working with Belle to relabel and organize their filing system. Previously, their idea of “orderly” bordered on chaos, and they had trouble keeping track of just about everything. Along with the digital system, they decided to reconfigure the physical records as well.

They’re in the process of fixing the system when Emma’s email account dings, and she glances at it briefly to make sure it’s nothing important before they get back to work.

What she finds, instead, is a message with a link to a website. Normally, she would write this off as a spam account, but there’s no fill-in-the-blank recipient. There’s no lead-up to the message at all. Just the words written below a link: You’ll have to trust me. Type in code 92574. Check Maine.

With a heavy amount of trepidation, Emma clicks the link and follows the instructions. Her brows furrow as she tries to process what she’s looking at, but it appears to be some kind of personal page, with links to the fifty states. Finding Maine in the list, she clicks it, and almost immediately drops her phone as if burned.

“Oh my fucking god,” she mutters, her vision blurring around the edges.

“Emma is - oh! Oh my goodness!” Belle immediately backs away from the glance she’s just stolen at Emma’s unlocked phone on her desk, looking back at Emma with horror and surprise in her eyes. “What…. What is all that?”

“Something I was told was destroyed a long time ago,” Emma says, her voice shaking and her body feeling heavy and weak all at once. “Can you drive stick?” Her phone finally goes dark and auto-locks, and she’s honestly not sure if she can feel her face right now.

“I’ll text Will and let him know we’re on our way.”

-x- December 13: Friday

The last few weeks since Thanksgiving have been some of the best in Killian’s life. While the project of Henry’s novella is speeding up in momentum and racing towards the end, he and Emma have been taking things at their own pace and enjoying every moment together that they can.

It’s getting easier for them to talk about their pasts. From their shared lack of parentage to finally breaking the barrier of previous relationships, he knows they’ve both made great strides. Being able to tell her about Milah and not have her go running for the hills was admittedly a huge relief, and he only hopes that she’ll trust him to open up about anything she’s still holding out.

Normally, when they go out on Fridays, Emma is right by his side when he enters the bar. While Emma is working with Belle, he and Will have gone to the bar early to have their own catch-up until everyone else arrives.

They each spend a fair amount of time grousing about work, about late nights and tired eyes and how much they love their jobs despite their words. And they also spend just as much time talking about the women in their lives. He’s happy to see Will as content as he is. He also knows that, despite the strange and often passive-aggressive friendship between the two of them, Will is happy to see Killian with Emma.

About an hour after they sit down, Will gets a text from Belle saying that the two women are on their way. They each share a look, automatically noticing that something feels off, but unable to tell what. That sensation is amplified by the look on Belle’s face when she arrives with Emma not far behind.

There’s a tightness around her eyes that Killian has never seen the soft-spoken woman have before. Emma is just behind her, with her arms crossed over her chest and a look that he would best describe as being a cross between solemn and murderous. Only his girlfriend could manage that combination of expressions.

“All right, Swan?”

“No. Not all right. Can uh, can we go back to my place?”

“Sure. Let me just -”

“I’ve got the tab. Go on,” Will says, his thick eyebrows drawn together.

The Bug is waiting for them when they get out, still running. Clearly, she hadn’t intended on spending long inside whether he was coming with her or not.

They’re silent on the drive back to her place, and even while they make the trek up to her loft. She’s quiet as she unwraps her scarf and kicks off her boots, all with deliberate and jerky movements.

“I have to kind of process through something,” she says, her voice thick with a myriad of emotions. “I don’t wanna talk. I don’t really want to do anything at all. But will you stay with me?”

“I’m here as long as you’ll have me. Whatever you need,” he tells her, making sure to catch her eyes so she knows he’s being honest.

Wordlessly, she locks the door before she leads him upstairs.

While Killian is normally the one with the carefully crafted routines - which, admittedly, have taken a backseat to finally relaxing and enjoying his time here in Storybrooke - there are certain things that Emma does every morning and every night as far as her own rituals command. He has never seen her go straight to her room without carefully scrubbing her face and teeth and removing her contacts.

Usually, she also takes that time to braid her hair to keep it from tangling too much while she sleeps, but tonight she leaves it hanging free, and he’s surprised when she only shucks off her clothes and pulls on a t-shirt before climbing into her bed.

Following suit, Killian removes his clothes and quickly folds them, leaving them on the cedar chest by the bottom of her bed as he usually does when he stays over before he climbs under the covers. Immediately, Emma is shifting until she’s pressed against him, her ear over his heart and her arm wrapped tightly around his midsection.

“You won’t leave?”

“Only if you tell me to,” he admits, hoping that it’s what she needs to hear. Her grip only tightens, and he decides to stay awake as long as he can to make sure she’s all right.

He must doze off because he wakes again to Emma’s lips pressed against his, her hand sliding into his boxers to stroke him awake. As soon as he’s aware of it, he’s kissing her back, helping her push down his boxers before she hastily rips off her own underwear and finds a condom. This is not how they usually have sex - he recognizes it immediately - but even as he hesitates, he hears her whispers.

“Please - I know, please, I just need…”

He responds by pulling her closer, kissing her as hard as she was kissing him to let her know he’s on board. She slides on top of him, gripping his hand like a lifeline and rocking against him as if it’s her one salvation. He can feel the panic and anger with each move of her hips above him and he just holds on, hopes she can feel the reassurance radiating from him, hopes she feels that he’s an anchor she can trust - that he’ll be with her no matter what this all means.

When they’re both sated, she collapses onto his chest, and to his surprise he feels the quiet sobs wracking through her body a few heartbeats later. She only really cries when she’s angry - she admitted as much to him some time ago when they were trying to decipher the use of pathos in commercials. He wraps his arms around her, running his hand soothingly over the small of her back and whispering anything he thinks may bring her back to him.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice hoarse. “I’m sorry that wasn’t… I basically just used you to fuck away my anger and that’s not…”

“Swan,” he says quietly, releasing his hold on her so he can coax her to look at him. “No apologies necessary, love.”

With hasty swipes, she dries her face. “I’m just so mad right now.”

“Will you tell me what about?”

“Just… give me a couple more minutes,” she says, sliding off of him and climbing off the bed. He hears her footsteps retreating down the stairs and the door to the lavatory close.

He takes a deep breath, pushing himself to sit up, turning on the light beside her bed and grabbing a couple tissues to clean himself up. He slips his boxers back up while he’s at it before sliding between the sheets again.

When she returns to her bedroom, her hair is tied up and her robe is wrapped around her like body armor. She must’ve used the time to scrub the last of her makeup off, as well, and his heart stutters a beat to see her looking so down but still so beautiful. She climbs up, sitting next to him at the head of the bed with her legs crossed at the ankles.

He’s watching her carefully, trying to not pressure her to talk but wishing she would say anything at this point, as the silence is slowly pressing in around them.

“My last ex was the absolute worst,” she finally starts, fingers fiddling with the ties on her robe. “Worse than Neal, obviously. And worse than I ever thought he was when I found him cheating on me the day that Ruth died.”

He’s quiet, understanding that now is not the time for empty condolences for either incident. Instead, he reaches out and places his hand on her knee.

“He was a shitty antiques dealer down in Boston, never wanted to come up here to visit, never wanted to be seen with me, it seemed like. And unfortunately, he kept a lot of mementos from our time together.”

“How so?”

“You know how I told you I burned my uniform a couple years ago?”

He nods in response, tilting his head and wondering just where this could be going. She’d told him the beige monster was uncomfortable and unflattering, saying that any photographic evidence of the uniform in question was destroyed along with it.

“Well, I left a tiny part out,” she admits, looking over at him briefly.

“Nothing you tell me is going to run me off, Swan. I promise.”

With a bracing breath, she nods, focusing back on her hands in her lap. “I used to wear a uniform. Took it down to Boston with me because I was supposed to go straight to work the day I left his place. And he wanted to see it on. We were joking around and having fun.” She stops, grimacing and visibly willing her face to relax a moment later. “I let him take pictures. He had this fancy photo printer so he had physical copies and deleted them after they were done. At least, that’s what he swore he did. Just like everything else, it turns out that was a lie.

“Emma?”

“He has a website. A fucking website with all of us.”

“All of who?”

“Every girl he fucked in the year that he and I were together, according to the site description. He proposed to me, you know, right before we ended things. I was going to say yes but told him to give me some time. Ruth passed away about a week after he asked me and I drove all the way to Boston because I wanted… needed the person that claimed to love me. And he was in the middle of fucking another woman when I walked in the door. I told him to give me the photos before I left while this redhead sat naked on his bed and watched me gather my stuff.”

“And you got the physical ones from him?”

“Yeah, no surprise he lied about those being the only copies. He kept them in the top drawer of his dresser, so now I have to wonder where the rest are kept. The day after Ruth’s funeral, I burned the uniform - with David’s permission and minimal questions asked - and the photos.”

She goes quiet after saying that, not really keen on making eye contact for the moment. Killian takes the opportunity to gather the words he wants to say, trying to find the best order of questions and statements.

“You know that none of this is your fault, right? Nor do I blame you or feel any differently towards you because of your past.”

Emma sniffs at that, a half-hearted attempt at acknowledgement, so Killian leans closer and turns her face to his so he can plant a kiss on her lips.

“I mean it, Emma. This is on that wanker, not you at all.”

Her lips thin out for a second, but ultimately she nods and leans forward to give him another kiss.

“Now, will you tell me about how you found this all out?”

“I got an email while Belle and I were working on our little project. I figured it was spam at first but it just had this link to a website called ‘Banging U.S.A.’ and some instructions for a passcode and a state. When I clicked, there was a whole lot more of me than I expected to see. He must’ve been taking pictures through the whole thing, since not all of them were ones he printed and showed me later.”

“So some taken without your knowledge or consent? How much worse can this guy get?”

“Oh, it still gets worse. I tried not to click on anything else, but I ended up on the newly launched world edition,” she says with quotes around the words. “Without really thinking, I clicked on this little British flag and there was the woman I found him with. She was clearly far more into the photography thing than I was.”

“Bad, but how is that worse?”

“In the first three pictures, you can see one of my t-shirts on the dresser. In the others, it’s gone. Which means he went right back to fucking her as soon as I left his place with my stuff.”

“Definitely worse,” Killain mutters, drawing his hand over his face in disbelief.

“And we all had subtitles. Hers was the Wicked Witch of the West… and my South Pole.”

“Ouch.”

“Mine was Officer Tie-Me-Down and Fuck-Me-Up.”

“Bloody hell, Swan, how much villainy can one man possess?”

“Apparently, his cup runneth over.”

“Clearly.” They fall silent for a moment, until Emma’s head tilts over to rest on his shoulder. “Any idea what you’ll do about it?” he asks after letting her mull for a moment.

“No fucking clue.”

He shifts in order to kiss the top of her head, pulling her closer when she pushes her way under his arm. It’s still hours more before either of them fall asleep again.

-x- December 14: Saturday

When Killian wakes up again, it’s to the sound of Emma’s voice floating up from down below.

“I know, and I’m sorry for bailing without letting you know,” she says. “I had something come up.”

With much effort, Killian hauls himself out of the bed, pulling on his undershirt before making his way downstairs.

“No, it’s kind of why I was calling, though. Do you still have that phone number for James?”

Whatever response David must have for that is lengthy and aggravating, judging by the look on Emma’s face when Killian makes it to the main floor. She looks up and gives him a wan smile, pulling the phone away from her ear long enough to lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. Dave’s voice is, indeed, squawking out quite the storm from the earpiece, and Killian does nothing more than raise an eyebrow in question before giving her a kiss of his own and moving towards the coffee pot.

“Well, when you calm down about that, give me a call back. I need his number and you’ll agree with me when I tell you why.”

Her phone clatters to the table but she’s already moving towards where Killian is standing against the kitchen counter.

“Good morning,” she says, leaning up and pulling him down to give him a much warmer, much more thorough kiss.

“Same to you. Feeling a little better?”

“More like a fire’s been lit under my ass and I have a plan. I have to swing by my brother’s place to harass him about our other asshole brother. Want me to drop you at home?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I need to head to the office to finish up the last of the preparations and my notes for the party on Friday.”

“No trouble at all. Wanna get breakfast along the way?”

“Food and time with my girlfriend? Only a fool would refuse such blessings.”

When they part ways, he’s amazed at the clear change in mindset she’s gone through in less than twelve hours. Even as she kisses him goodbye, there’s determination burning in her eyes.

-x-

It takes roughly forty minutes of needling David before he finally caves and gives her the phone number James had called from once, on accident, a couple years ago. She’s plugging it into her phone and hitting ‘call’ before she’s even halfway out of David’s workshop, taking the steps two at a time to get to the first floor.

“Don’t hang up,” Emma says as soon as James answers.

“Emma?”

“You mean you actually have my number saved in your phone?”

“I’m sure that’s surprising but yeah, makes it easier to call you if I need to ask for money.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed a bit,” Emma responds, rolling her eyes at his words.

David reaches for the phone when he gets to the kitchen but Emma bats his hand away.

“I’m guessing you’re the one that needs something if you’re calling me.”

“You’re still in Boston, right?”

“And what if I am?”

“You still have that fancy talent at hacking computers and websites?”

“Listen, I haven’t done anything wrong. I stopped doing all that ages ago.”

“I don’t care if you’re a law-abiding citizen,” Emma snaps. “I need someone who doesn’t care about the law.”

“So the wonder twins need my help because I don’t follow the rules?”

“Pretty much. I have an ex that needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Fine. Come down here next Friday and I’ll see what I can do. If you’ll do something for me,” he adds at the very end.

“Like what?”

“We’ll discuss my terms on Friday.”

“I have a party…”

“Oh? You have a party?” His tone is mocking, and Emma swallows back the retort she wants to spit at him.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll be there. David is coming with me. You do the job, I’ll repay you however you want me to, and then I never have to see you again.”

“Sounds good to me,” James singsongs. “I’ll text you the address. See you Friday, little sis.”

“That guy’s the worst,” Emma snaps when the call ends. “How is he your fucking twin?”

David just shrugs. “And this is why I didn’t want you to call him. Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”

“You have to promise you aren’t going to have a coronary or something, okay?”

“Go for it. I will… do my best.”

She takes a deep breath before she urges him to sit down while she starts to tell him what she’s just found out.

To give him some credit, he doesn’t completely lose it. But he does turn an interesting shade of purple at the news that there’s a website that has pornographic photographs of his sister. Trying to get around those words is possibly the most mortifying thing she’s ever been through, until David opens his mouth when she’s done speaking.

“Has Killian seen this site?”

“God, David. No. And he won’t if I have anything to do with it. I’m not going to show my boyfriend pictures of me fucking another guy,” she screeches, standing and stomping over to their coffeemaker to indulge in more caffeine.

She doesn’t really want to tell James the same news. She doesn’t want to tell him more than she absolutely has to, but she also needs the skillset he picked up from being a generally bad person in order to get this chapter of her life wiped from existence.

Unfortunately, it’s going to mean missing the one thing she was looking forward to since Killian first told her about it.

She stops by his office to see him next, admiring the way he looks when he’s deeply concentrating. She can also see just how much he’s put into decorating his office in the time they’ve been together. She remembers stark walls and an empty desk. Now, his degrees are hanging, along with a few artistic prints of book covers. His desk is similarly fuller, with picture frames and small knick knacks beyond the single one that used to be there.

With one more bracing breath, she prepares to go in. He’s going to understand, because he already knows what’s going on, but she hates to disappoint him.

“Swan?”

She’s knocked from her idle watching by him softly saying her name.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” she says, walking in and shutting the door. She moves around to lean on the edge of his desk right in front of him. “But I have some bad news. I can’t come to the debut on Friday. That’s when my creep-o brother can help me out. I’ll have to be in Boston.”

His face falls, the disappointment clear, but his hand reaches out and brushes along hers. “As much as I’m sad you won’t be with me, I know it’s for a bigger purpose. Is this evil twin in law? Law enforcement?”

Emma’s face freezes, realizing that she never shared with him how she planned on having James help her.

“Okay, long story short? James is really good at being a bad guy.”

To his credit, Killian listens with full attention as she launches into her plan and doesn’t even call her crazy.

“Barring any legal repercussions from this Walsh, I find no fault in this plan.”

“I’m pretty sure with James’ help, I won’t have to worry about him trying to come back at us.” At her reassurances, Killian nods in what she hopes is approval. “Should I let you get back to work?”

Slowly, he eases her off the desk and into his lap. “Maybe in a moment or two?”

It’s a question, leaving the answer in her court.

“I’d be happy if it goes a little longer than a moment,” Emma responds, settling herself fully into his lap and chuckling at the look in his eyes. She pulls her shirt over her head, reaching behind her to unhook her bra.

“I like to think we’re making up for all those times we’ve been interrupted,” Killian says before sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Straight to the point. She’s glad she locked the door when she closed it.

-x-

Chapter 8

#cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #captain swan ff #csrt #sarah writes ff

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