#plus after reading whatever was going on in school rumble's ending as a kid i think i can handle any level of tonal whiplash | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pradaksj · 4 years ago

Text

7 Rings | 01

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 12,000+

♛ warnings for this chapter : explicit language, terminal illness, this chapter basically just sets the foundation of this story up so sorry if it’s a little boring

♛ summary: In need of money for your mom’s medical bills, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, blackmail, get your money, and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em. ❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

“Why Y/N?” his voice cracks, the look of betrayal evidently on his face.

"I never—" you sobbed. Your throat felt swollen and you stuttered, pitifully trying to speak the words in your head. "I never meant for it to go this far," you said at last.

How did you end up here? Where did everything go wrong? When had the rabbit hole simply become too deep? The sounds of several voices echoed in your head.

You could hear him calling your name, begging no demanding an answer, but all you could do was stare off into space, thinking of everything that led up this exact moment.

If only you could turn back time.

3 Months Ago.

Friday Morning.

“In today’s news, the Kim family’s multibillion dollar deal has been officially confirmed. Their partnership with Hyundai is estimated to bring in at least seven billion in revenue to Korea’s economy over the next 5 years. Both parties have agreed to terms that will lift…”

Oh the irony.

Sighing, you turned off the radio of your run-down 2006 grey Hyundai, which every morning you had to cross your fingers and hope that the engine wouldn't burn out on you. The rumbling sounds of the engine starting up never failing to catch the attention of pedestrians walking by.

After several frustrating minutes of struggling to parallel park, you sat in your car and allowed yourself to sulk for a moment. Another day, another dollar to make. Even if it meant having to deal with rude and entitled customers all day, your school loans plus your bills just weren’t going to pay themselves off anytime soon.

“One day at a time Y/N, just one day at a time,” you reassured yourself, placing on your mandatory logoed hat, and mentally preparing yourself for another day. If only you were rich.

Friday Night.

Despite being tired from work, visiting your mom was something you always felt like you needed to do every so often, plus her homemade meals were quite often a bonus considering how lazy you’d often get to cook food for yourself. In fact, the pizza shop near your apartment not only having your order, but voice completely memorized for whenever you called. The young employee quickly interrupting your greeting with a, “Pepperoni pizza, half sausage, half Hawaiian, and a pink lemonade?” surprisingly no longer offended you as much as it would back in the beginning.

Your mom certainly didn’t mind the company as it inevitably got quite lonely living by herself, but she knew she couldn’t smother you forever as much as she would love to. College was a necessity for you in her eyes, a ticket to a better life that wouldn’t require you to scrub the floors of the rich as she did.

And maybe it was because you were more mature nowadays, but conversations with her had now also seemed to be much more meaningful. Well that and the two of you didn’t butt heads as much as you used to compared to when you were nothing but a temperamental teenager whose biggest life crisis was whether your crush glanced at you in the hallway or not.

Of course the boundary and respect of a mother-daughter relationship was always there, some of your jokes sometimes garnering a “I’m not your friend, I’m your mother” speech from her, but nonetheless your relationship with her in a way was very much like a friendship. It seemed as if with every visit you learned new things about her, the different stories she shared with you from her youth always having an underlying lesson that you could apply to your own life.

“I really needed this,” you said while chewing on a mouthful of bulgogi. Small stains of sauce at the corners of your mouth, as your mom’s cooking never failed to make you feel like a little kid. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her now twenty one year old daughter who in her heart was always going to be just a little girl.

She got up from the small wooden dining chair, picking up any leftover dinnerware as she prepared to start washing dishes, all while at the same time listening to you as you babbled on about work.

“I mean really, how hard is it to say thank you,” you rolled your eyes, dramatically sticking your chopstick into your bowl, as you were recalling one of today’s customers who kept snapping their fingers at you as if you were their very own personal servant.

“Well it’s a good thing it’s summer, you don’t have to worry about college so mu—” The sound of glass shattering on the floor abruptly caught your attention. You looked up at your mom who was now dead silent, her face which was now extremely pale, and her breathing which had suddenly became erratic. What you didn't know was that your mom had suddenly felt as if the world spinning, the feeling of disorientation becoming too overwhelming.

“Mom? Are you okay?” you quickly got up, grabbing your mom by the forearm in a means of trying to redirect her from the kitchen to the couch at an attempt to get her to relax. You unlocked your phone, fingers slightly trembling as you called the ambulance.

“Just breathe okay. You’re gonna be okay,” you kept trying to reassure your mom as you waited for them to pick up which at the moment felt like an eternity. Your leg was bouncing up and down in anticipation as you kept glancing at your mom who was trying to keep her breathing in control and her eyes open. “Do not close your eyes on me, you hear me?” your voice began to feel shaky, eyelids brimming with tears, the pulsating feeling of panic flowing through your veins.

“Hello, what’s your emergency?”

You hated hospitals. Who didn’t? The smell, the yellow-toned ugly lighting, and the feeling of anxiousness the whole place gave people. For you though, the hospital was a reminder of tragedy, a reminder that whatever comes in here never walks out the same whether you’re a patient or not. Fifteen years ago, it made your mom a widow left having to pay remaining hospital bills all while having to raise her six year old daughter.

So here you were now, fifteen years later sitting at her bedside waiting for her to wake up, stuck in the same position she once was. You stared up at the ceiling counting each time the overhead lights flickered as you tried not to get so lost into your thoughts. Everything had happened in what felt like was the blink of an eye, guilt was beginning to seep in. Why hadn’t noticed anything earlier? Maybe in some miraculous way you could’ve prevented this, you thought to yourself.

You turned on the small TV that the hospital provided in every room, flipping through several channels hoping you'd find something that would be able to distract you.

“Shut up and kis—” K-drama. Next.

“Watch ou—” Action movie. Next.

“Kim Taehyung gets physical with paparazzi, the heir to Kim Enterprises spotted —” but before you could place your full attention to the entertainment newscast you turned your attention to your mother who was now beginning to shift in her sleep, her eyes now slowly opening, clearly in a daze as to where she was and how she got there.

“Hey ma,” you softly whispered, giving her a warm smile as you held her hand tighter, beginning to rub small circles on her palm.

“W-what happened Y/N?”

“You fain-”

“Ah you’re finally up,” you turned towards the door, seeing who you assumed was the doctor in charge now walking in.

For a doctor she appeared quite young, her petite figure and wrinkle free skin a defining factor in her appearance. You formally greeted her, a wave of anxiousness now overcoming you. “Dr. Whitney Han'' is what her name tag read, but it was what was in small font beneath her name that made your heart feel as if it feel down to the pit of your stomach. “Oncologist,” meaning doctors who specialize in the study and treatment for cancer.

Faintly clearing her throat, “Hello, I’m Dr. Han,” she introduced herself, reaching her hand out for you to shake. She smiled at your mom who was still in a slightly groggy state, but aware nonetheless. “So Ms. Y/L/N, you seemed to have suffered from what we call a syncope, meaning an episode of passing out, it’s usually caused by insufficient blood flow to the brain, a result of hypotension,” you nodded following along with what she was saying,

“When episodes such as these occur, it tends to mean that there’s an underlying cause and so we decided to run some tests on your mother to cross out any possibilities, and well there’s never an easy way to tell anybody this...” her gaze lowered for just a slight moment until she quickly regained her composure, but it was just enough for you to just know. She continued with what you assumed she’s told hundred’s if not thousand’s of patients in her career. For her it’d be just another day of work, but for you it felt as if the world stopped.

Whatever she had said after couldn’t be heard because the only thing you could hear was the sound of your blood pounding in your ears, and an intense beating against your chest. You could see her mouth moving, but nothing seemed to be coming out, everything suddenly becoming a ringing noise to your ears.

Fight or flight is what they call it. When a stressful situation triggers you to either run or stay, and at this moment you just wanted to run, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew that at this exact moment, everything was going to change because whether you liked it or not, the carousel never stops turning.

You slowly glanced at your mom who seemed to be in the same paralyzed state as you, her face stoic of any possible emotion.

“With treatment chances of survival are of course immensely improved, the treatments are harsh, but taking your mom’s age and clean medical history I think she can definitely handle it,” Dr. Han tried to give you a small smile, but even she knew situations like these were always tough. No matter how many years of experience she had, the countless tragedies and rare miracles she’d witnessed in her career, every case was different. Her job as a doctor was to make people like you and your mother feel more comfortable with their situation, but never make any promises.

“Now treatments are done in intervals, and will probably have to be done starting from now until about three to six months which is when we usually see improvement, meaning you will have to permanently stay here for that time. From what I’ve seen with past patients is that treatment can be very costly without insurance, and well I know a lot of physicians don’t like to talk about expenses with patients, but—”

“My mom doesn’t have health insurance. I know,” you harshly broke the deafening silence, interrupting her before she could continue, not wanting to hear anymore of her pity. You had no reason to give her attitude, no reason to direct your anger towards her, it wasn’t like she caused any of this to happen, but you just couldn’t help it. The atmosphere in the air was stiff, any next word out of her mouth and you’d probably go ballistic. “C-can we just have a moment alone? So we could just um process everything,” you stammered, lacking to make any eye contact with her.

“I’ll be right outside in the hallway, let me know if you have any questions,” she gave you and your mom one last tiny sad smile before making her way out.

Once the door closed, you thought that you’d be able to breathe properly again, but the same heavy feeling on your chest remained. It wasn’t until you felt a grab at your hand that you were brought back to reality.

“Hey we are going to be just fine Y/N,” your mom whispered to you as it was now she who was rubbing your hand in an effort to comfort you. A weak smile appearing on your face, of course your mom would be comforting you despite it being her who's sick. “Come on lay down with me,” she then began to scoot to the side in her already tiny hospital bed, trying to make space for you.

And for a small everlasting moment you felt like a little girl again as you hugged your mom, tears silently falling from the corner of your eyes, the soft sound of her humming comforting you. You let your head relax onto her shoulder, your breathing somehow finally under control. The question of “What are we going to do?” slowly disappearing from your mind, letting yourself drift off to sleep in the arms of your mom.

Sunday Morning.

In the following days after, you had helped your mom move her necessities into the hospital room that she’d be staying in until her treatment was over and she could be discharged. You had contacted your landlord informing him that you’d be cancelling your lease as you now had plans to move back home. The only reason you had your own small apartment in the first place was because your mom thought it’d be better to live near campus and not waste so much money on gas going from campus to your job and then back to your moms place. Despite her protests on the cancellation of your lease, you had done it anyway.

“Ma someone has to live there, or else it’d just be useless to continue paying rent. We can’t just leave it empty for the whole year, someone could break in or even try to live there for the while that you’re not there. I mean imagine walking in on some strang—”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want you living there, and move the decoration a little more to your right,” she says while making a motion with her hand as a way to guide you. For the past hour you had been putting up flimsy removable decorations all across the beige hospital walls at an attempt to make her room look less depressing than it already was.

“I already told you, I’ll be just fine. I already asked Yuna to help me get my stuff, and you’re acting like everyone in the neighborhood doesn’t know who I am, and it’s a lot faster to get here from home. I just need to start looking for a second job in the meant—”

“Ah about that,” your moms sudden interruption causing you to stop what you were doing , now tilting your head in confusion, “I called Mr. Choi and told him about me no longer being able to work for the meantime that I'm here and well that’s when he mentioned something about going on vacation, and needing a temporary assistant… and that he needed someone to run some business like errands for him and well I may have mentioned you and that you’re majoring in business and how you’d love to work for him…” she tried zooming through the last part but you had heard it all.

“Wait what!”

Mr. Choi was your mom’s boss, having been his housekeeper for as long as you could remember. Endless long nights of making sure whatever multimillion dollar penthouse he or his other snobby friends owned looked squeaky clean, just to be paid like any other minimum-wage worker minus the tip.

You could still vividly remember the nights when you were younger being babysat by your neighbor, anxiously waiting for your mom's knock on the door signifying that she was back home, and just how exhausted she’d look as she took off her housekeeping shoes, too tired to even look at the pile of sealed letters on the sturdy coffee table. A constant reminder that she was going to be working for that man for a very long time.

For a long time you had wondered how she was able to do it all. Were there nights where she felt like just giving up and simply letting everything she’d work so hard for to collapse?

Your mind flashing back to the night before you moved out for college. It was about 3 in the morning and anxiety had been keeping you up the whole night, the fear of moving somewhere you were unfamiliar with creeping into your mind. The sound of muffled tears coming from the living room snapping you back into reality. Slowly you had gotten up from bed, opening your door wide enough to leave a crack that you could visibly see through, desperately trying to avoid having the door loudly creak.

And so there she was with a wax stick candle in her hand, quietly whispering to herself a small recital, the sound of several wailed “thank you’s” coming out of her mouth, grateful that she had made it this far. The old framed picture of your dad on the coffee table making it hard for you to fight back your own tears.

Nights where she was sure your landlord would knock at any moment to kick you guys out because the rent was going to be late, nights where she’d silently cry herself to sleep because it killed her to say no to something you desperately wanted from the store, and nights where she merely missed the love of her life. Doubting herself as to whether she was doing a good job in raising you, simply wishing she could have someone give her some reassurance. And having to hide those feelings because she didn’t want her daughter to find out that the person she had once given a “Happy Mother’s Day to the Strongest Mommy in the World” card with a colorful doodle of herself in a cape was in fact not strong at all, but acted like she was because she simply loved her daughter too much.

And so that night instead of going back to sleep, you slowly made your way into the living room, silently enveloping her in a hug, no words having to be spoken. Promising yourself that you were going to work hard in college, and get each other out of the small cramped apartment to which you guys called home. Life of course had different plans, which brings you back to one of the causes of your stress and worries: Mr. Choi.

Oh how you despised that man. One would think a rich man like him would’ve offered by now to pay for all of your mom’s expenses considering the years of servitude, but no. He only fed into the stereotype you already had of the rich, the only people they cared for were themselves.

“So you’re basically telling me I have to quit my job by tonight, and do something I have absolutely no experience with?”

“Yes! You need to start getting all the experience you can get in the world of business, and him being on vacation is perfect. Less stress, and I assume it’ll be better pay than that restaurant you’re working in.” Oh how you hated how naive your mom could be sometimes, it always led to Choi taking advantage of her and her kindness.

“Mr. Choi lives—”

“In the city which is not at all far from here, the only reason you work at that lousy restaurant is because it’s near campus, yes or yes?”

“And when school starts?”

“Mr. Choi should be back by then and he can find someone new to replace you,” you dramatically groaned, the fact that she had reasonable answers to your questions bugged you.

“But-”

“But nothing! You’re a hard worker Y/N, who knows you may even meet someone who could change your life around in that area. You’re young, about to be a college graduate, you need to start printing out resumes and Mr. Choi is a big name in the indust—”

“I get it, I get it,” you said chuckling at your mom’s enthusiasm, “and who's going to keep you company then?”

“Ah well the nurse was telling me last night about the events they throw here every week for people like me who are staying here for a while and trust me I’ll be just fine,” she winked at you which raised a laugh out of you. Who knew your mom could be so… social. “Just try and visit hmm... at least once a week.”

“Once?”

“I’m telling you Y/N, we will be just fine. Stop acting like I’m dying anytime soon.” she said, “now what do you say? It’s just until the end of summer.” You began to consider your options, money was definitely the weighing factor here.

Sighing once you had made your decision, “When do I start?”, a giant grin now appearing on her face.

Sunday Night

“Well that’s the last of it,” you sighed in relief as you finally were able to close the trunk of your car after several minutes of struggling to compress your things in order for everything to fit in your small car and not make any double trips back.

“Finally! You know for someone who claims they need to save money, you sure do like spending it on such small useless things,” your best friend, Yuna, complained.

“Oh because you were so much help,” you huffed, she had no right to complain considering all she did was loudly munch on her chips, watching the pitiful sight of you nearly fighting your trunk after several failed attempts of it not closing. She raised her hand in defense.

You and Yuna had met in the 8th grade after the two of you were assigned as partners for your geometry class, casual conversation about latest idol debuts and fashion trends had blossomed a beautiful friendship. For a while you thought that college was going to cause the two of you to grow apart, but in fact you two became even closer. It had become a friendship where you didn’t need to see each other everyday, nor talk about absolutely everything all in one moment. Everything was always at its own pace between you two, the boundaries having been silently set.

You had told Yuna of your situation and rather than try to get you to cry about your feelings and awkwardly comfort you, she instead agreed to help you move out, letting her actions speaking louder than words. Of course Yuna’s definition of help differed from yours. but it was the thought that counted. She knew that when you were ready you’d talk to her about everything.

“Well apartment D2 you’ve been... “ you paused, recalling the amount of times you’ve nearly burned something, now scratching your neck, “...decent to me, but it’s time for a new chapter,” you whispered to yourself, anxious for the weeks to come.

The drive home like almost all of them had the two of you singing to both current and childhood songs without a care in the world even though you two weren’t exactly what people would consider “good” singers. Occasional voice cracks seeping through the bass of the speakers, garnering a laugh from the two of you.

By the time you got home and finished unpacking, you were not only exhausted but extremely hungry.

“I’m gonna go get us take out,” Yuna announced, getting up from the couch and grabbing your car keys from the rack, almost as if she read your mind.

And so while she went to get that, you laid on your small childhood bed, staring at the ceiling. You laughed at the multiple glow in the dark stickers you had crookedly placed onto it several years ago, and cringe at the posters of second generation idols you had sloppily posted up on your walls when you were fifteen, now unaware that you were subconsciously grinning.

It surprised you that your mom for the most part hadn’t moved anything around from your room, for the most part it looked almost exactly as how you left it years ago. The same old baby blue duvet covered your metal twin-sized bed frame, decorated with grey fluffy throw pillows which at the time you thought made you a professional interior designer. Your fingers grazed over the framed pictures you had on your small desk (minus the ones you took to college) of past memories including a photo of your dad piggy back carrying a five year old you who had the biggest smile on her face. A small reminder of what life once was.

You could feel your eyes getting watery as you continued to stare at the photo, and so you quickly snapped yourself out of it, deciding that you already had enough emotional turmoil on your plate. Instead you plopped back onto bed, unlocked your phone and began to scroll through Twitter occasionally laughing at some memes.

A certain retweet had caught your eye causing you to let out a scoff, “Kim Taehyung NASTY fight with girlfriend Sunhi. Click here for more.” The Kim family were almost insufferable, their names practically plastered everywhere across Korea. Especially Mr. Kim’s son Taehyung who somehow always managed to get his name across the headlines whether it be on TV, magazines, or social media.

“Famous for being a brat,” you muttered to yourself, but ironically before you could click on the link you had heard the door open and close, resulting in you locking your phone and immediately getting up from bed, your stomach desperately ready to stop growling.

“Im baaaack!” Yuna dramatically squealed, placing the foam takeout containers on your small kitchen table. The scent of the warm food making your mouth water. “I know it’s chilly right now, but the stars are out tonight, so I say we go eat at the top,” she then gave you the puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t need to make such… disturbing...faces for me to agree, you do know that right?” you teased, trying to hide your smirk.

“Fuck you,” she responded to you while playfully hitting your shoulder.

Despite it being summer, when you had walked outside you immediately felt the crispy cold weather, but it was something you and Yuna had grown accustomed to. The countless number of late nights climbing up your metal ladder to get to the rooftop and watching the small tiny stars had made you two somewhat immune to the nightly cold. Your mom sometimes would even climb up herself to bring hot cocoa, rightfully worried that the two of you would freeze yourselves to death.

You see your apartment, like the rest of your complex, wasn’t in the greatest condition. The infrastructure of it mostly relying on a mix of cement and brick, rust engulfing most things along with metal bars on each complex’s windows in order to prevent break ins. Crime was not something uncommon in your area, but something that you were used to hearing about as you got older.

What made the whole situation more ironic was that the rich were separated by a simple six way motorway, acting almost as a bridge between two completely different worlds with their skyscrapers and condos looking down upon you guys. It was only at night when the stars were out and you looked up at the navy blue sky that you felt like for a small moment none of it mattered. The warm milky glow of the moon never failing to soothe you, reminding you that even in the dark there was light. Reminding you that even now which felt as if was one of the darkest hours in your life, there was going to be light. At least that’s what you hoped.

“This view just never gets old,” you whispered, amazed at the moonlight’s reflection, the speckle of stars only adding to its beauty. Your eyes had once again become watery, a sudden state of reflection washing over you, but you quickly composed yourself before Yuna could notice.

“What time do you even go in tomorrow?” Yuna asked, her eyes still primarily focused on the view above.

“Well their flight is at 1PM so my mom told me I should get there by at least 11AM so he can explain everything to me, show me around, and all that other stuff.”

“I don’t see why you have an attitude about it, you’re acting like it’s the worst job in the world!” she scolded you.

“I know I know, I’ve heard it all already,” you rolled your eyes recalling your mom's lecture and that she expected your attitude to be fixed come Monday morning.

“Well you gotta do what you gotta do,” Yuna mumbled while shrugging her shoulders and continuing to eat her food.

“You can say that again.... ” you acknowledged her remark, secretly scared for tomorrow, silently hoping that all went well, “and I thought I was a slob,” you snorted, watching how sloppily Yuna was slurping her noodles. She raised her hand, smacking you on the shoulder.

“Hey, watch—”

Monday Morning.

“Where you’re going, you asshole!” you shouted over your window, your irritation fixated at the man who cut you off without signaling. God how you hated driving in the city. All the one way signs, the assholes who called themselves drivers, and the narrow streets which were hard to maneuver in. It all caused unnecessary stress, but here you were nonetheless.

“Turn right in 1.2 miles,” you let out a snide scoff as you entered the parking lot, there was nothing but car of the year models ranging from Mercedes Benz’s, BMW’s, Range Rover’s, and more. All making your car look worse than it already did.

Making your way into the lobby, you were in complete utter awe of the place. From the giant diamond chandelier hanging from above to the sparkly interior design which screamed Hollywood glam. The ivory colored double staircase reminded you of Titanic, the color scheme of the whole place was overwhelmingly beautiful. You could only imagine what Mr. Choi’s condo could look like as you made your way to the front desk.

Ding.

To your surprise a boy, a very handsome one to say the least, appeared from what you assumed was his office. He looked no older than you, his hair dyed a crimson-red color giving him a youthful appearance accompanied with a face that had both sharp and soft features. Before you could ponder on why such a good looking person was working and not living at a place like this, your thoughts were interrupted.

“Hello, welcome to The Oaks condos, how can I help you?” he asked, sounding eerily similar to a robot. It reminded you of yourself at your old job, something you certainly would not miss.

“Um I’m Mr. Choi’s new assistant,” you looked for his name tag which coincidentally he didn’t have on, but you could immediately see his shoulders relax once he had heard the words “new assistant”.

“Ah yes! You’re Ms. Y/L/N’s daughter right? Y/N right?” you nodded in agreement, a smile now appearing on his face, causing the corner of your lips to turn upward. Wow was this guy handsome, you only hoped that the heat you felt on your cheeks wasn’t visible to the eye.

“Your mom called me to give me a heads up. I’m Hoseok, I’m what you can consider the receptionist around here,” he said, reaching his hand out for you to shake.

Hoseok. The name sounded so familiar, you could’ve sworn you'd heard your mom mention the name a couple times.

A light bulb then went off in your head, as you remembered the countless number of times she had tried setting you up on a date with him, but wow did she fail to mention that Hoseok had the literal face of a GQ model.

An awkward cough brought you back to reality as you had realized that Hoseok’s hand had been stuck out for quite some time, you were now certain that your face must’ve resembled a ripe tomato. You quickly returned the handshake, internally scolding yourself for making yourself look like an idiot. Here you were, a grown woman, acting like a teenager again.

“So um, you seem um ... pretty young to be working here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he teased, “I replaced my aunt after she retired and the owner of this place trusted her to teach me well, and well I guess I’ve been doing a pretty good job if I’m still employed,” he explained, playfully winking at you, confirming that he knew the effect he had on people. You stood there in silence, deciding that it was just best to say nothing, look pretty, and nod. Thus causing him throw his head back and laugh, making small claps with his hands. With the way you were acting, you couldn’t blame him. He must’ve thought you were some kind of walking circus act.

“You’ll get used to it, you know...” you now had a look a look of confusion on your face which only made him laugh harder, but before you could ask him any questions, he changed the topic.

“Well I assume your mom gave you Mr. Choi’s key pass, correct?” you shyly nodded no in response. “Ah I see, let’s go ahead and get that set up for you then,” you watched him as he began to type some things onto the computer in front of him. Compared to how fast his fingers were moving across the keyboard, he made you like a complete newb on the keyboard. The boy was clearly now in his own zone.

“First name, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Last name, Y/L/N?”

“Yes.”

“You see where that X mark is on your left?” he pointed at the microscopic mark on the floor to which you followed, “Okay now look at where that pretty gold flower is on the wall, and say cheese!” Before you could even properly prepare yourself you heard the sound of the shutter go off, immediately causing Hoseok to begin cracking up.

He turned the desktop computer to face towards you, showing the horrendous picture the camera took of you. One eye had come out mid-blink, your mouth slightly agape from fixing your hair in the moment. “Hey that’s not—!” Before you could start complaining, Hoseok had quickly interrupted.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! It’s only for the program’s database which only Rachel and I see? Ain’t that right Rachel?” Rachel? Who the hell was that?

Glancing around to see who this Rachel person was, you were surprised to see a very old woman seated behind the front desk seemingly caring less about what he had said, a permanent scowl on her face along with a small groan coming out of her mouth as a response. “That’s my girl,” Hoseok jested, “Now you,” he dramatically pointed at you, “come back over here.”

You muttered a quiet “Whatever,” peeved by his little antics. Maybe it was because Rachel was old but you could slowly see why she had that look on her face.

“Place your index finger on the small machine when it lights up,” he pointed to the small biometric scanning machine, similar to the ones used at the DMV. Following the simple instructions you allowed the machine to scan your finger, assuming it was going to be used for something important around here.

All you could do was observe him as he finished typing who knows what. You observed how his eyebrows quirked as he continued to type, a satisfied smile gracing his lips once he was done.

Too caught up in his appearance, the sudden tug at your hand had caught you by surprise, yanking you from where you were standing. “I’ll be back Rachel! I’m going to show little Ms. Y/N here around,” Rachel as before. only grunted in response.

“So here of course we have the lobby, this is where all the..” he glanced around making sure no one was around before whispering, “snobby folks come in and out of every day. Them and their visitors of course, so hopefully you don’t have to interact with any of them.”

“I don’t think all of this will be neces—” before you could continue he pulled your hand again now guiding you towards another area. You glanced at the time on your phone, hoping this so called tour wasn’t going to take too long.

“Right here is the entrance to the patio and pool area, which is what you’ll use your fingerprint for as well as entering Mr. Choi’s condo and any other amenities we have around here,” he reached into his pocket pulling out a laminated card, “but if for any reason our system’s down then this right here should do the trick for amenities only, you’ll have to come up to the front desk if the finger pad in the elevator isn’t working. For precautionary reasons of course,” he explained, most of it pretty self explanatory, except the elevator part but you assumed he’d get to that soon.

“So the entrance to every apartment is through the elevator which is right there on your left,” You followed him as he began to walk towards it, placing his finger on the elevator’s finger scanning pad, “The stairs are really only here for decoration considering no one uses them, I mean unless of course you want to climb up 7 flights of stairs everyday,” You quickly nodded your head no, “Only resident’s and employee fingerprints allow the elevator to open but,” the two of you stepped into the elevator, “the fingerpad inside the elevator only allows certain people to access certain floors. Since Mr. Choi’s going to be out on vacation with his vacation, you are currently the only person with access to his floor,” you raised your finger, slightly confused.

“Don’t you technically—”

“I do, but let’s say I were to enter a resident’s condo without their explicit permission, they’d immediately be notified through their phone as I’m also under strict contract.” Your mouth made an “O” shape, impressed by how everything was ran around here. Another question then popped up in your mind as he clicked the elevator’s 7th button.

“Well what if there’s more than one person in the elevator? What then?”

“Ah good question! Since you don’t know any of the residents here yet, I suggest you always try to go into the elevator by yourself, and if the situation arises where you feel uncomfortable or paranoid about who's in the elevator with you then just go back down to the lobby of course and wait it out, but we’ve never had any cases of break ins or anything like that. Especially not in an area like this. Things around here are ran very smoothly,” he shrugged, “I mean around here the burglars don’t wear black ski mask and carry scary weapons. In fact the real criminals live on these same floors,” he deadpanned, slightly catching you by surprise.

“I know what you’re probably thinking, who the hell makes an elevator an entrance to their home? I thought the same thing when I first started, but for some reason they see it as some kind of luxury feature around here...”

“Mm it’s expected if I’m being honest,” you chuckled, slowly finding the confidence to make small talk with Hoseok without getting so flustered. A pregnant silence had made it’s way into the elevator.

“I’m sorry about your mom by the way...” though he had said it out the blue, you could feel the sincerity behind his words. All you could do was give him a small smile of acknowledgment, feeling as if it was too early to feel someone’s pity. “She talks about you a lot...” he said, causing you to smile.

“My Y/N is going to one of the top schools in all of Korea! My Y/N is going to become a successful businesswoman! My Y/N is so pretty Hobi, a boy like you should take her out some time!” he mimicked your mom’s voice, now causing you to genuinely laugh.

“That definitely sounds like her,” you giggled, your cheeks now becoming a tinging shade of pink at the mention of her trying to playing matchmaker.

“You should’ve seen her face when I told her I was gay,” your eyes immediately felt as if they had bulged out of your eye sockets, your face now completely red at his previous words. He on the other hand was now laughing as hard as ever, his hand clutching onto his stomach from laughing so hard.

“I told you you’d get used to me,” he said in-between laughs, tears now welting out of his eyes from his laughing fit. Things definitely started to make sense, especially now that you were inconveniently remembering how your mom had completely stopped mentioning Hoseok in any romantic way to you. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment because here you were already fantasizing about the dude.

“You're also probably wondering why I’m working at a place like this, that’s what most people ask me when they visit round here, but...”

“I’ll have to answer your questions some other time Ms. Y/N because well here we are! I’ll have your parking pass ready by the time leave but for now just place your finger on the scanner and off you go,” you followed his instructions, opening the doors of the elevator, stepping out, and waving a small goodbye watching him return the wave as the doors slowly closed. In all honesty you were genuinely happy at the fact that you had made a friend around here even though you were still slightly embarrassed about the moment that had played out only minutes ago.

But before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a voice call out your name, “Ah Y/N, good you’re here right on time!” You formally greeted who you presumed was Mrs. Choi, slightly surprised at the fact that she even knew your name.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Muah. Muah,” she pulled you in for a hug and giving you a kiss on each cheek like the French do. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, tell her I send my condolences.” You returned her fake smile, not expecting yourself to despise her this early on. Oh were you glad she wasn’t going to be around.

Mrs. Choi in a way reminded you of Regina George’s mom despite not having any kids. Needles and plastic were definitely her best friends, and her attempt to try and act younger than her actual age was quite cringe to watch.

Soon after greeting each other, two pomeranians began to circle around you barking. You bent down trying to pet them, but you guess they picked up the snob’s attitude because all they did was continue barking and one even tried to bite you.

“If it isn’t Y/N, I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!” you snapped your attention to the man himself, Mr. Choi, who was coming down his stairs with a thick black luggage case in his hand. The last time you saw him was around 9 years ago when he had lived on the other side of the city. Your mom had to take you to work with her that day because your neighbor was unavailable to watch after you and you were still too young to be home alone.

Mr. Choi had definitely changed in appearance, his once full head of black hair was now clearly balding, he had gained some weight, and overall looked like a man who had long been worn out. You couldn’t help but think that this vacation was probably needed, especially with a wife like his.

“I’ll wait for you in the car my love. It was nice seeing you Y/N, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks!” she squealed, waving goodbye as she stepped into the elevator, the dogs following right behind her.

You could hear Mr. Choi sigh, probably already mentally preparing himself for the next 10 weeks. So this is what a pretentious marriage looks like, you thought to yourself. You theorized that Mr. Choi must’ve only married her for her looks and she for his money, and well no wonder there were no kids in the picture. It’d be the ultimate death of both of them. You actually felt pity for the man, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a choice in marrying her.

You brought your attention back to Mr. Choi who must have been rambling on for some time now, “My most recent assistant just quit on me for no reason,” a genuine puzzled look on his face, “something about me being too overwhelming for her, as if I'm supposed to know what that means,” he scoffed. “So when your mom mentioned you well I knew I could trust her!”

Your mom truly never failed at mentioning you to whoever and whenever she possibly could, it was both a blessing and a curse.

“So… what exactly am I going to be in charge of?” You blurted out, the question had been lingering in your mind since the night prior.

“Good question, I’d show you around, but time is on the essence. I basically just need you to organize my office, file paperwork, organize Amelia’s closet, go run errands for me, pick up documents, but most importantly I’m going to need you to attend certain events in place for me, but of course just introduce yourself as my assistant, apologize as to why I couldn’t be there, and most importantly keep your eyes and ears open. In my world we like to keep… tabs… on one another,” your eyebrow quirked in curiosity, “and since I won’t have any signal I expect to have a report ready for me when I come back so I’m caught up with everything of course,” he grabbed something from the coffee table, “I made a planner for you with everything that needs to be done on a day to day basis,” he then proceeded in handing you the bulk gray planner, “It includes passwords, data sheets, and all that good stuff.”

You were amazed at how his demeanor had changed from clumsy-like to serious businessman in the blink of an eye. It was actually quite intimidating.

“Finances need to be kept in check, investors need to be accommodated, and well I just want to come back to everything being normal,” he began to gather the remainder of his stuff, “also your money is going to be wired to your bank account on a weekly basis and well that’s really it. I’ll see you in 10 weeks Ms. L/N! Good luck!”

“Good luck..” you quietly repeated his final parting words back to yourself, watching as the elevator doors closed. You could see why his last assistant quit, you didn’t even know where to start. You took a deep breath deciding to make your way up to his office, your day was just getting started.

The condo may have looked like it came out of a show from HGTV, but Mr. Choi’s office looked like it came out of an episode of Hoarders Buried Alive. There were scattered papers everywhere, his desk was practically hidden by all the stacks of papers. Food wrappers and aluminum soda cans thrown around like the slob he was, the stench making you want to throw up.

“Oh my God…” you said to yourself, this man was just a mess.

You skimmed through some of the papers all of them having to do with different things ranging from firm performance, finances, legal forms, and much more. You could already feel a headache coming, but at the end of the day this was your job. You grabbed some storage boxes and began to label them with a black marker.

Your plan was to separate the papers into two sections: Important and Unimportant. Once you finished separating, you’d then shred what you deemed unimportant, and further organize what was important by date and then transfer them to his filing cabinets. It would take time, but it was the only method you could possibly think of. Your goal was to stop by 3 and then start working on Mrs. Choi’s closet.

You put on your earphones and began to play some music so that you wouldn’t be so stressed while organizing everything.

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s and bottles of bubbles…” you hummed to yourself and before you knew it, it was already 3. You had thrown out all of the trash in his office, and for the majority part most of his papers were organized.

You sighed, now to get started with her damn closet.

Mrs. Choi’s closet was its own giant room, marble shelves stacked with bags and shoes, racks full of clothes, jewelry sparkling under their display showcase. The sparkling glass chandelier on the ceiling adding an extra oomph to the room.

Hermes. Gucci. Chanel. Versace. Burberry. Balmain. Louis Vuitton. Saint Laurent. Fendi.

Any brand you could think of was in this closet, it was unbelievable. The closet had to be worth several thousands, no millions. So many questions were running through your head. How could someone just have so much? What do you even do with this amount of clothes? You were truly left speechless.

Shaking your head, you began to pick up all the clothes on the floor deciding that it was best to organize everything by color, your day almost done.

By the time your alarm went off it was already six which is the time that Mr. Choi had said you could leave, and it wasn’t like he was paying you extra for staying any longer and doing more work. For the most part, you had finished with both the office and closet and were just ready to go home, jump into bed, and watch some Netflix.

You went down the elevator, satisfied at your first day on the job. This was going to be easy, you thought to yourself.

Just as you were leaving the lobby you heard Hoseok, “Hey I had your parking permit printed out!” You stopped dead in your tracks, turned around and walked towards his desk. It wouldn’t hurt to make a little bit of conversation, right?

“Ah I had forgotten about that, thanks,” you chuckled.

“It’s no problem! The parking officer loves giving tickets.… so how was your first day?”

“Um not bad actually, a little boring to be honest,” you pondered at his question, for the most part you were being truthful, “Tomorrow I’m supposed to go and get Mr. Choi’s Mercedes Benz checked out, and then from there go and pick up some paperwork from some legal firm, transfer it onto his computer.”

“Well at least he’s not around to be over your shoulder, he practically had his last assistant going nuts,” he responded, laughing at the memory.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow,” you yawned, giving him a small wave goodbye.

“Hey well let me know if you ever need anything, and I’m being serious,” and to that you nodded, taking note of what he said.

Monday Afternoon.

[Incoming Facetime from: Ma 💞💗💓💕]

Immediately you clicked “accept”, having just gotten home and tidying up a couple things around the apartment.

“So how was your first day?” your mom immediately questions you, clearly eager to know.

“It was pretty decent ma, nothing I can’t handle,” you chuckled, “but wow was that man’s office practically a pig pen,” you complained only causing your mom to start laughing.

“Oh I know,” she comments, only causing you to roll your eyes.

“I think these 10 weeks should go by quite smoothly if I say so myself,” you sounded genuinely optimistic, “I met Hoseok you know,” your embarrassment had long subsided, instead finding it hilarious.

“Ah my Hobi!” your mom sounding delighted at the mention of the young boy, “a hard worker that boy is I'm telling you.”

“He seems like it,” you had long concluded that he was when he had been explaining everything about the residency to you. He seemed like one of those people who even though they disliked their job, still put in their absolute everything into making sure they were the best at it. “You shoud’ve seen me giving him the googly eyes earlier,” you joked around.

“Hobi is—”

“Gay, yeah I know. I had to find that out the hard way,” you covered your face with your hands, playfully sulking.

“Why do you think I stopped trying to set the two of you up,” your mom laughed.

“Mm really ma? I would’ve never guessed,” sarcasm dripping from your words.

“Hey remember who you’re sp—”

“Anywayssss, how are you holding up out there?” you took a sip from the cup of juice you had served yourself earlier, your mom’s dismissive expression returning back to a smile.

“Well the food around here is horrible! I told my nurse that they should let me in the kitchen for a change, but all she did was laugh!” You grinned at the idea of your mom actually working at the cafeteria for the sake of it.

"Ah well I’lll make sure to bring you something on Wednesday.”

“Did anything arrive in the mail today about the invoice for everything?” your mom asked, a look of worry now on her face.

“No ma, and don’t even worry about anything like that okay? Focus on your treatment, and you let me handle the rest alright?” your voice now becoming stern, leave it to your mom to start worrying about finances.

“I know, I know, but I know some fees were coming up and well—”

“And I’m telling you to leave it to me, okay?”

“Ah okay then, well I'm going to sleep already,” she yawned, “they’ve been prodding needles in me all day,” she tried to say it as lighthearted as she could, but she quickly regretted it as she saw the sudden sad look on your face.

“Goodnight ma, I’ll see you Wednesday alright?”

“Okay then Y/N, I love you.”

“I love you too,” and with a small pressured smile, you clicked “end call”. An immediate sigh coming from your lips as you glanced at the several unsealed envelopes on your coffee table, many of the scattered papers stamped with a red “PAST DUE”.

School, rent, the water bill, the light bill, the gas bill, your phone bill, the old hospital bills, the new ones, all due in such small amounts of time with almost no room in-between dates to rest.

And so that night you laid in bed staring at your ceiling for what felt like hours unable to go to sleep. The only thing on your mind was how you were going to get the funds to pay for everything because well if you didn’t then you’d be left in hospital debt with an eviction notice right at your door and a whole bunch of other problems that you didn’t want to think about.

Deciding that it was best to get a breath of fresh air, you made your way to the rooftop, watching as the scattered stars glimmered in the sky. You sorta wished that life could be like those childhood TV shows where a shooting star would pass by and make your wish all come true, but the fact was, is that your life isn’t a movie or a tv show. This was your reality, and you were just going to have to suck it up.

You unlocked your phone and texted the only person you possibly could.

[To: Yuna 🤍]

[10:09] you up??

You tapped your foot, waited for her to reply.

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:10] i'm offended that that’s even a question tbh

[you]

[10:11] you think you can come over? pleaseeee 🥺

[10:12] ik it’s late and you’re probably tired and work tmrw but i just rlly need some company rn

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:13] i’ll be there in 10, don’t judge how i look

[you]

[10:14] when have i ever…

Soon enough you heard a knock on your door.

“I brought your favorite snacks,” Yuna had a giant grin plastered on her face to which you couldn’t help but smile at. Her makeup-free face and bright Hello Kitty pajamas told you that she was probably in bed when you texted her.

Once she slid off her shoes, she was quick to make herself feel at home by jumping onto your couch. Hell, this was basically her second home.

“Do you work tomorrow?” you asked her.

“I called off, I’ve already accumulated a lot of hours anyway and well I might as well start putting them to use,” she stated, as she munched on a freshly opened bag of barbeque chips.

Yuna was a retail clerk at the local mall, attending fashion school at night in hopes of landing herself a future internship, but like you was currently on summer vacation. Even in middle school, becoming a world renowned fashion designer had always been her dream, having gone to the the principal’s office a countless number of times because she added some kind of tailor to the plain old school uniform whether it be bedazzles or embellishing some kind of bizarre pattern onto it.

Yuna though was sadly a case of a prodigy without the resources, accepted to one of Seoul’s top fashion schools when the two of you had graduated high school. You were there the day she opened her letter of acceptance, the two of you along with her family celebrating by going to one of Seoul’s most expensive restaurants. But just as you were there the day she was accepted, you were also her shoulder to cry on the day she realized that the money she had saved up wouldn’t even cover a quarter of tuition costs, and her applications for scholarships had all fallen through.

What you admired most about Yuna was that disappointment didn't stop her from trying. Her designs were truly one of a kind, and you weren’t even saying that because she was your best friend and had a bias towards her. You could only hope that one day she’d be recognized for her talents.

You grabbed your blanket from your room and sat next to her on the couch. She stared at you while you flicked through different channels on the TV, sensing that something was wrong.

You could practically feel her burning a hole through your head and so you decided to answer the question you knew was looming in her head, “I’m not okay,” you mumbled, letting out a sardonic laugh. “I’m trying to act like I am, but I'm just not,” you stared off into the TV not wanting to make eye contact with her, “it’s just not fair,” you whispered, confused with yourself as to whether you were sad or angry.

Yuna could feel her heart wrench as she listened.

“My mom’s been nothing but a kind person, I’ve been nothing but a kind person, and so I can’t help but ask why? What did we do to end up in a situation like this?” you hadn’t even realized that tears were falling from your eyes until you felt the salty drops of water make their way onto your lips, dripping from your chin, “The whole time I was in Mr. Choi’s condo looking around at the million dollar paintings, and organizing his wife’s thousand dollar outfits I kept thinking to myself how can a man like Mr. Choi just not care? He didn’t even bother to ask how she was...” you seethed, the emptiness in your voice had now become anger.

Yuna scoffed, “The rich are always looking down on us like we’re just nothing but money makers to them, demanding their respect like they deserve it for free.”

“I just,” you paused for a second, “I just don’t know what to do, I think I might have to start looking for a second job or something, or maybe even take a gap year...” you breathed out, running a hand through your hair in distress.

And maybe one could call it fate with what you and Yuna had seen on your TV that night. Destiny perhaps. Whatever it was, it was going to open the doors to a brand new world. A world that you had only ever caught small glimpses of.

“Kim Taehyung is officially Seoul’s most eligible bachelor, our sources have confirmed that he and on and off again girlfriend Sunhi have called it quits permanently this time. The reason you may ask? Rumor has it that she was caught cheating on him,” the entertainment reporter had a giant grin on her face, “That’s right ladies, the heir to Kim Enterprises is back on the market.”

Pictures which you assumed were recent showed Taehyung partying, drinking, flashing expensive cars, and at red carpet events for major fashion brands. “Tweet us using hasht—” you changed the channel on the TV, bored of the topic at hand.

“I swear he’s the only person they talk about nowadays, I mean literally he’s everywhere!” you chuckled, turning your attention to Yuna who for some odd reason now had a look of disbelief on her face.

“Y/N… how did I— no how did we not think of this earlier?” Yuna got up from the couch like an excited toddler causing you to tilt your head to the side in honest confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about now,” you said, laughing at how childish she looked. She was now pacing herself back and forth across your living room, her adrenaline practically visible.

“You know I don’t normally believe in this stuff but holy shit this has got to be a sign!” At this point you were convinced she was talking to herself considering she wasn’t even making direct eye contact when she said that. She frantically ran her hands through her hair, “I mean you have the quote on quote resources, the clothes, my fashion expertise, the car, the events, and he’s single now. Oh my God how did we not think of this,” you carefully listened to what she said trying to piece everything together. Resources? Clothes? Was she talking about Kim Taehyung?

Your eyes immediately widened when you put two and two together and realized what she was so excited about, and it was now your turn to get up from the couch.

“You’re literally insane you understand that right!?” you stared at her, completely baffled. You thought stopping her from pacing around would bring her back to reality and get that grin off her face, but if anything it did the opposite.

“Y/N! What are the chances that as we’re talking about your finance issues and then something like that comes up! What are the chances that you literally work for a millionaire who's going to be gone for several weeks and expects you to attend his events! You can’t tell me that this isn’t hmm… I don’t know… Fate!” All you could do was stare at her in disbelief as she began to mumble something about this being something “straight out of a movie”. You were waiting for her to laugh and tell you this was all some kind of joke, but you soon realized she was being serious.

“The fact that you’re actually being serious about this is ridiculous!”

“And the fact that you think it’s ridiculous is what’s really crazy!” you shook your head refusing to accept what she was alluding to.

“Yuna! Let’s be rational he—”

“No, just listen to me Y/N. Please,” you looked at Yuna who had now calmed down, her face completely serious, “I know it seems out of the ballpark…” you nodded in agreement, “You have the opportunity to infiltrate the rich, and not just anyone but the Kim family! You know how many rumors there are about that family and their business!” she shouted while adding extra emphasis on the word infiltrate as if this was some kind of spy movie.

You sighed, “And how exactly would I do that? How could I not get caught up in lies? Why the Kim family? Why not not just steal some of Mr. Choi’s belongings and sell them on Ebay or something? Just what exactly are y—”

“You didn’t let me finish!” you grunted in annoyance. There were just so many questions running through your head, did she not realize the risk in what she was proposing? The consequences?

“You’re a stranger in their world, a brand new person … a brand new identity! You already have to go to these events as it is, and you can’t steal anything from Mr. Choi and sell it because I mean clearly he knows who you are. They, as in the rich, do not,” Yuna knew she had managed to grab your attention based on the look of skepticism on your face, “And technically you’re not going to be stealing Mrs. Choi’s clothes, you’ll be um ... borrowing them.” she flashed a giddy smile, “10 weeks Y/N, 10 weeks to get Kim Taehyung to fall in love with you, blackmail money out of that family, and then poof you disappear without a trace!”

“You have no idea how many questions are running through my head at this very moment.”

“And I think I can give you answers to them all, but please Y/N just think about it! It would solve all of your problems, financially at least,” you jokingly hit her shoulder as she teased you with the last part of her sentence, “you wouldn’t be doing it for yourself, you’d be doing it for your mom.”

“For my mom…” you mumbled to yourself. Yuna stared at your blank expression. She could only assume that you were letting everything sink in before making a decision. On one hand you’d be able to pay for all of your expenses while still getting your job done, but on the other you'd be using someone under a false pretense in order to blackmail money out of them. You’d literally be infiltrating the rich. You were scared. What if you got caught? Would you go to jail? What would happen to your mom?

You had made your decision.

“I trust you Yuna… I really do…” she now had a worrisome look on her face, “and so..” without even realizing it Yuna had been crossing her fingers, “I’m in.”

“Oh my God,” she let out a sigh of both relief and disbelief, a beaming smile on her face.

“But!” her smile quickly disappeared after hearing your tone, “we need to plan this thoroughly, like a solid proof plan by tonight on pen and paper, you got me?” she nodded in agreement, “and I think there’s someone we need involved in this... “

She tilted her head in confusion.

“Who?”

Tuesday Morning.

“Yuna this is Hoseok, Hoseok this is Yuna,” the two shook hands giving one another a warm smile.

Yuna began eyeing you in a way of saying “Are you sure about this?”. You understood why she was skeptical of Yuna whether or not she’d agree to everything, hell you had your own doubts. What if Hoseok said no? Worse, what if he completely snitched you out? Then you’d be stuck with no job, no money, and probably blacklisted from all major companies in Seoul by Mr. Choi himself with the label “thief” over your head. You had to reassure yourself that everything would be just fine, “So what brings you guys here?”

“Well I was hoping I could talk to you um…” you glanced around, “somewhere private,” you whispered giving him a shy smile, “maybe up in Mr. Choi’s condo,” you offered remembering that Rachel could possibly be hearing (though you highly doubted she’d care).

“Oh um… sure, let me just tell Rachel to cover for me,” he awkwardly dismissed himself to the back.

“I don’t know Y/N … he seems like the type of person to not want to risk his job..” Yuna whispered to you, she was clearly on high alert.

“He told me I could ask him for anything, and well I know I’ve only known her for about 24 hours, but I don’t know… something about him just seems reliable, I can't explain it. It’s just better to have him on our team than to be suspicious of us. I can’t do this whole infiltration thing being paranoid that the receptionist is going to snitch on me when he sees me walk out with clothes worth thousands of dollars,” you replied, “And if this really is playing out as a movie like you say, then we need someone whose tech savvy.”

“You have a point,” she chuckled, “wait how do you know he’s good at computers again?”

Your mind flashed back to the night before, while Yuna was asleep you had gone full stalker mode on Hoseok to get to the bottom of who he was. After hours of looking through different social media platforms you had ended up finding both his Twitter and Instagram @/junghsk, where he had pictures of his college graduation from 2 years ago. Major? Computer Science. It explained why he looked like he was in some Matrix movie the other day, and though of course it didn't mean automatically he was an expert, he definitely must’ve been better than both you and Yuna combined when it came to programming which is something (based on your plan) you were going to need for future endeavors.

You also came to find out that he was an avid animal lover, taught cardio dance classes on morning weekends, likes to live tweet show series such as Games of Thrones, and is in a committed relationship with someone named Min Yoongi. What could you say? You liked to do intensive research.

Once Hoseok returned the three of you went up to Mr. Choi’s condo, the elevator ride up was definitely awkward compared to the day before.

Yuna was in clear awe of the place. You could tell she wanted to give herself a personal tour, but you shot her a look dismissing the idea as she could easily do that later.

“We should sit,” you suggested pointing to the kitchen’s island, "Yuna can make us all some instant ramen,” she immediately shot you a look of annoyance, but didn’t argue with you making her way to the pantry.

“So...” he quietly mumbled at an attempt to break the ice, making small tapping noises on the island’s surface with his fingers.

Flashing him a pretentious smile, you awkwardly glanced around trying to think of something to make small talk with, “Um do you like Games of Thrones?”

Immediately he grinned, you expected a “yes” to come out of his mouth but instead he said, “Ah so that was you yesterday!”

The color drained out of your face , wait what? He began to laugh, making small claps as he threw his head back, “You were stalking me,” his face scrunched up as he began to tease you.

“What are you talking about?” your tone becoming defensive along with your eyebrows furrowing, only causing his fits of laughter to become louder. His index finger wiping the tears that began to form in his eyes.

“Don’t act like you didn't like and unlike my picture at like 3 in the morning!” He suddenly pulled out his phone, showing the notification which he hadn’t cleared from his phone, showing your username and the words “liked your photo” following right after. You had forgotten about that...

It was already 3AM and you were beginning to doze off, eyelids barely even open. You saw the white heart on Instagram appear on a 56 week old picture which you immediately unliked, also causing you to jolt out of your comfortable position in panic.

Damn you Instagram. “Whatever you need must be pretty important if you’re up at 3AM instastalking me.”

“Oh shut up—”

“Well since you were on there, what hair color do you prefer on me: red, brown, or black?” You scowled before muttering a quiet “brown”. “Really I’ve been told red looks best on me, hmm...” he pondered, pressing his index finger onto his bottom lip. "So are you going to tell me what this is all about anytime soon or ...” he said, his tone coming out more demanding than he intended, but Hoseok was the kind of person that didn’t like to beat around the bush, rather preferring to be told things straight up as they were.

“Okay..” You started, explaining to him of your situation starting from your mom, to the bills you needed to pay, why this job just wasn’t enough, why you needed to go ahead with your plan, why you needed him to be in on everything, and emphasizing that you weren’t doing this for yourself but your mom. By the time you finished explaining, Yuna was already done making the noodles.

Hoseok sat there in silence, you could hear your heart from your chest, your fingers getting slightly sweaty as you thought of the different possible outcomes. The deafening silence had made you feel like you guys were there for hours. Honestly, you could have heard a pin drop.

It wasn’t until you saw his signature smile beginning to form on his face that you could’ve sworn you felt bricks actually fall off your shoulders.

“Okay let’s do it,” he stated as he began to slurp on his noodles.

“You’re in?” Yuna asked in complete shock, eyes completely widened. He nodded in return clearly enjoying his food, “You don’t have any questions? No concerns?”

Hoseok shrugged, “Mm well of course I’m curious as to what exactly the plan is, which I’m sure you’ll be explaining to me soon, but nope. I’d probably say no if the cause wasn’t for something important,” he looked at you giving a warm compassionate smile, “and this has got to be the most interesting thing that’s happened on this job for the past 2 years so there’s that,” his brows knitting remembering past situations with residents, “and lastly these snobs deserve what’s coming to them,” he finished off causing all three of you to laugh.

“Well then cheers to mission… ummm... “ Yuna placed her finger on her chin, causing you to facepalm yourself as she was trying to think of a name for something so irrelevant.

“7 Rings,” Hoseok interjected , “like the Ariana Grande song. I want it, I got it!”

“You like my hair gee thanks just bought it!” you guys simultaneously sang at the top of your lungs, clinking each other’s drinks.

And so that was how mission “7 Rings” came into fruition, but of course like everything else in the world, nothing ever goes as planned. If only you had realized then that things were going to change, whether they were for the better or for the worse… well that was for you to find out on your own.

author’s note 🧚🏻 : SK has universal health care but for the sake of the plot we’re going to have to pretend they have a private healthcare system so please don’t attack me lmao. Also please like & repost as it keeps me motivated to write and update faster !! Thank you in advance if you do 💞

#btswritingcafe #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #taehyung fic #taehyung/reader #taehyung fanfic #tae fic #tae fanfic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung series #7 Rings #kim taehyung #kth #kth fanfic

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years ago

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Stud 9

Previously on Stud

“It’s been awhile.”

“Near a decade?”

“Well there was that convention in Prague. Maybe six, seven years ago?”

“And the reunion at the Hargrove Estate.”

“The presentations in Oslo?”

“I think… I think that was right around when m mom--” Lexa furrowed as she tried to place the time that seemed to slip away from them. “I guess Prague was the last time.”

“Five years then,” her old friend from college nodded thoughtfully. “Time is a dangerous thing. I hate it.”

The lounge was intimate, dimly lit and clean, freshly modeled despite being an ancient and ritzy institution in its own right. Dark woods were illuminated by soft lights, large paintings covered the walls in dark gold frames. The chairs were velvet and the drinks were perfectly crafted from the best labels. The clamor of the familiar crowd in suits and ties and diamonds and dresses was just a murmur behind their secluded table

Maggie James hadn’t changed a bit, just matured into a fulfilled version of herself, or so Lexa liked to imagine. She still had deep brown eyes and a heart-shaped face. Still had a soft smile. Her hair was cut shorter now, above the shoulders and wavy. Her demeanor was more assured, more herself, than the unsure girl in college, or even the graduate assistant at a presentation in Prague.

“I have to say, I hadn’t expected to hear from the CFO of one of the largest companies on the planet after reading my lowly article and research.”

“I don’t know about lowly,” Lexa smiled after sipping her drink. “I thought it was a good article. And your research was thorough.”

“I just observe and postulate. Those other companies were the ones doing the hard part.”

She was naturally demure. Maggie was not someone who had to work for a living. Her family owned an ancient merchant conglomerate and she was vaguely related to a Kennedy and a Duke or something. And though she had her phases, Lexa remembered her from school as someone who wanted to do her own thing. She didn’t cut up her black card, but she sure didn’t care to rely simply by biding her time. Lexa always liked that.

They hadn’t been especially close, just gravitated to similar circles and were in the same degree program, naturally leading to an affiliation that boarded somewhere between acquaintances who knew too much and friends with no actual ties.

The real surprise had been when Maggie actually returned the phone call Lexa gave after a few weeks of obsessing over the research and generally annoying her girlfriend with facts and tidbits, filling up a notebook with her own questions, ideas, and things she’d read. She’d garnered a lot of attention with her article and research. It almost wasn’t worth it for her to return the call of a somewhat acquaintances, somewhat friend that she hadn’t seen or heard from in upwards of six years. But Lexa’s last name was on buildings in almost ever major city, and regardless, she got a return call.

“I did call you about the article, but also to catch up,” Lexa promised.

“And remember those good times in college?”

“We did have a few of those, didn’t we?” she grinned, looking over her glass, earning a shaking head and heavy sigh and smile.

“Much to my girlfriend’s chagrin.”

“You actually told her some stories?” Maggie raised her eyebrows and chuckled. “And she let you come tonight?”

“Encouraged it actually. She’s sick of hearing me rave about your work and research. I’m allowed to have an intellectual crush on you, and that’s it.”

“She’s a saint.”

“You have no idea,” Lexa agreed and signaled for another round. “Last I heard, you were engaged to some Lockeridge. Didn’t work out?”

Maggie held up her hand and wiggled an empty ring finger.

“He didn’t particularly care that I was interested in anything other than the usual marriage retirement activities like kids and needlepoint or whatever.”

“A shame.”

“I heard you decided to go outside of the pool or acceptables,” Maggie shrugged. “I only have a few questions: How, and how did your father take it?”

“You know my dad. He wouldn’t know acceptable if it shook his hand. He actually adores Clarke. And it was sheer luck. She just happened to be best friends with a mechanic I use to fix up old cars.”

“Kismet.”

“How did your parent’s take the loss of a Lockeridge hyphenation?”

“Mom went into full mourning, black outfits for a week and three weeks in Italy,” Maggie recited as Lexa laughed. “Dad complained about his lost deposits on venues.”

“And now?”

“Now, I research sustainable and ethical management in corporations.”

“I meant--”

“I don’t even own a car, so I haven’t run into any mechanics, and I was almost hoping you’d broken up with your saint and that’s why you’d called.”

“It actually our three year anniversary next month.”

“Disgusting. You’re buying the drinks.”

They both shared a smile and shook their heads, amused at themselves and the situation of their lives, both wondering how they hadn’t taken the time to be better friends, although a few drunken make outs had certainly ended any hopes of that back then.

“I’m assuming you want to talk to me about the article and your company?”

“I was having fun catching up, but I take sex off the table and now you’re all business.”

“I know your time is valuable, and I don’t want you to think you have to waste it catching up,” she explained, leaving Lexa slightly baffled.

“Your time is valuable too, and honestly, I am kind of having fun catching up. I kind of fell out with the old gang after Mom.”

“I heard you did the falling.”

“Probably,” Lexa nodded in agreement as she swapped out her empty glass for a new one. “I worked myself raw for three years straight.”

“But you still hear some of the rumblings from the old guard?”

“Some. Care to fill me in on more before I proposition you?”

“Intellectually?”

“Strictly.”

Maggie took a large sip from her drink and eyed the girl across from her, at ease and amused at their conversation, ever charming and wildly sexy without even meaning to do it, Lexa was someone who made her attention feel like nothing else mattered, and anyone would want to be within her company to experience it. All were welcome, but it was a blessing to hold her focus for an extended period of time, in any capacity. Maggie remembered making out with her in the bathroom of a club. She remembered making out with her at a party on the Lower East Side. She remembered Lexa’s messy waves, leather jacket, and fiery eyes that remained, even a decade later. But they weren’t for her anymore, and she was alright with the disappointment if it meant working with her.

“Did you know Emma Hunton-Blather?”

“Not biblically.”

“I wouldn’t imagine so. She’s an ultra-religious mommy blogger now.”

“Yikes,” Lexa winced.

“And Francine Christenson already divorced twice.”

“I think I saw one of those.”

The evening was easy. The drinks flowed and the two caught up with their previous acquaintances. Lexa was grateful that it was going well considering how nervous she was about approaching an almost stranger.

The drinks kept coming and before she could talk shop, Lexa was drunk and just enjoyed having fun.

XXXXXXXXX

“I love her.”

“Oh god, not this again,” Clarke groaned, rolled over, and tugged the pillow with her over her head.

“Not like I love you. I just am fascinated by her research.”

“Is that what you call her boobs?”

“Oh no,” Lexa shook her head, wobbling slightly as she plunked down on the edge of the bed and began awkwardly tugging off her shoes. “I can’t even seen boobs that aren’t yours boobs. I am boob-blind now.”

Despite herself, Clarke smiled at her drunken girlfriend. It wasn’t often that she came out, and when Drunk Lexa did, she often enjoyed it. There wasn’t any jealousy against Maggie James, just that Clarke liked a little more attention than she was getting with this new project. She also wished this old project hadn’t made out with her girlfriend, but that was neither here nor there. She’d feel the same way if Lexa was obsessed with recycling. She’d hate it and vote for global warming to make her stop fixating.

Before she could finish with her shoes, Lexa flopped backwards, fully clothed and half on the bed.

“Clarke. Hey, are you sleeping?”

“No, darling. I’m up.”

“I wish I’d never made out with Maggie, because I think we could have been have friends.”

“Good. Keep not making out with her and you can be.”

“Ahhhh,” Lexa pointed at Clarke and laughed before letting her arm fall back down.

“Plus, you could use more friends.”

“Nah. I don’t.”

“You do.”

Clarke moved, putting the book she’d fallen asleep reading on the night stand and moving her way around the bed to help the pitiful thing that couldn’t get undressed. She stayed at Lexa’s strictly because it meant sloppy drunk needy Lexa. She also expected her about two hours earlier.

“You need more friends. It’s good to have them.”

“I have Gus,” Lexa listed, counting on her fingers as her girlfriend tugged off her shoes for her. “And Aden, and Anya, and Dad, and Indra, and um. And Maggie. And, um… uh…”

“Only one of those are age appropriate, not related to you, and not salaried.”

“And you! You’re my best friend. Who needs more than that?”

She didn’t mean to, but Clarke smiled at that as she moved to unbutton Lexa’s shirt, earning a smile and laugh despite already closed eyes.

“Oh, are you getting me naked, Ms. Griffin? Naughty naughty.”

“How much did you drink?”

“A little bit.”

Clarke just shook her head and pulled Lexa up so she could pull off the shirt. She moves to the pants next, instructing her to lift her butt so she could tug them off. Lexa remained fairly still as Clarke searched for a spare shirt for her to sleep in.

“Hey, hey, Clarke. Hey,” Lexa called in a whisper.

“Hm?”

“You really are my best friend.”

Clarke smiled, her cheeks growing warm as she slid the shirt over the drunk’s arms and head, careful not to poke an eye or pull hair. Tenderly, she got a rag from the bathroom and wiped her face as best she could, earning almost purrs of contentment with the treatment.

“Are you ready for me to fuck you?” Lexa ventured, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re beautiful.” Clarke pushed her girlfriend’s shoulders so that she fell back in bed easily. “Perfect. You can be on top.”

“Get under the covers. It’s time for bed.”

“Fine, but you should know that I am a good lay.”

“I’m aware,” Clarke grinned as Lexa climbed in obediently.

“I’m like really good at giving you orgasms. And you seem to like them.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m tired and you’re drunk.”

“Those are two true facts,” Lexa nodded and yawned, rolling into her usual spot. Her arm was held open until Clarke joined her in bed.

The lights off and the pair finally ready for bed, Clarke snuggled into her spot and felt Lexa’s warmth, enjoying the feeling of having her back.

“Hey Lex?” Clarke whispered as arms held her tightly.

“Change your mind about sex?” Lexa returned. “I’m still down.”

“No. I just wanted to tell you that you’re my best friend, too.”

“Good.”

Her arms pulled tighter and Lexa kissed Clarke’s shoulder before falling into a very contented drunken slumber.

XXXXXXXXX

Lexa loved her office. She loved that it was quiet and that even though she had taken a smaller role in th day to day operations, it was still there for her to work, uninterrupted and unimpeded. She loved her desk. She loved her view. She loved the certainty that came behind sitting her name plate, as if it told her who she was. There was a certain power that she took from it all.

“Thanks for coming down,” Lexa offered as Maggie took a seat across from her desk. “I think i forgot to explain what interested me most about your research at drinks the other night.”

“Yeah I think the fourth round of whisky made it a little difficult to keep track of complex ideas.”

“I had a good time.”

“Me too.”

“My girlfriend let me know that I need more friends. The problem being that I don’t particularly like or trust most people.”

“Or you’re too busy to put the effort into it. I get it. Trust me,” Maggie nodded, relaxing slightly as Anya brought in some coffee and placed it between them. “Thank you.”

“I was told that all my friends work for me or are related to me,” Lexa explained as she sipped her coffee. “And even though I would consider us friends, or potentially friends. I want to hire you.”

“I already have a job.”

“Yes, but I have lots of money.”

Maggie snorted at that, smiling, amused at Lexa’s candor.

“I have lots of money too.”

“I knew you would say that. I also knew that there wasn’t much I could offer you to sway you away from a fun research and doctoral position at a great university. I’m sure you find teaching rewarding.”

Lexa stood from her desk and grabbed a folder from the corner, carefully looking it over in her hands.

“The interesting thing I found in your report was that you were advocating for a system that not one single major corporation would even contemplate putting into existence.”

“I’m sure some--”

“Free housing? College tuition? Four day work weeks? Work from home? Private insurance? Officer salary cuts? Who in there right mind is going to do that?”

“I thought you were interested in my research.”

“I am. Because my job was killing me. And I have a hypothesis for you.”

“I think that’s my job.”

“You haven’t accepted yet,” Lexa reminded her as she leaned against the front of her desk. “If I implement your suggestions, will I not hate my job anymore?”

“There’s no way for me to measure that.”

“True. Will I feel better if we are a more ethical and knowledgeable company?”

“Yes.”

“Will we turn a profit?”

“According to my data, yes. Although the scale of your business,” Maggie shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start hypothesizing on when.”

“Hypothetically,” Lexa continued, smiling at how easy it was to get her interested. “What would you need to start testing your hypothesis? In real time. At this company.”

There was a quiet that settled as Maggie stared at the CFO. Long and tall, Lexa crossed her arms over her chest, the mystery folder tucked under her arm. Her shirt was folded precisely up to her elbow, her collar pressed and pointy, her glasses perched perfectly and her hair coiffed with enough effort to look like it wasn’t trying at all. She didn’t betray a thought though.

“Off the top of my head, I’d need access to everything. I’d need months of internal research and auditing, plus at least a handful of accountants and assistants. I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.”

“I do.”

“You can’t.”

“In this folder,” Lexa grinned, and held it in front of her friend. “Is one of our middling branches based in London. I want to give it to you.”

“A company?”

“Kind of. I want you to hire your team. I want you to help me implement your changes. I want to create a better world. I had to think of something that no one else could give you, to entice you. Is it working?”

“Consider me enticed,” Maggie nodded, slowly accepting the folder and flipping it open, her mouth slightly agape.

The buzzer on Lexa’s desk sounded and she pushed off, walking back to her chair.

Ms. Woods, the car is here to take you to the airport.

“Thanks, Anya. Give me a few more minutes.”

“Going somewhere?”

“Three year anniversary weekend,” Lexa smiled. “I had a bit of a rough year last year, but it’s all coming back around.”

“You are incredibly good at multitasking. You’re pitching me while planning an epic event and doing how many other things.”

“Take the week to think about it. Everything you need is in that folder.”

“I’m going to need more than a fifteen minute meeting with yout see if this is even for real.”

“It’s real,” Lexa promised. “We can figure everything else out together, when you accept.”

“If.”

“I’ve been told I’m very persuasive. Take the week. I’ll be back next Tuesday and we can talk more then, if you’d like.”

“I thought maybe a consultation, but this is…” Maggie shook her head and stared at the folder before shutting it quickly. “Hell of a friend.”

“Come on, I’ll walk with you out,” Lexa offered as she grabbed her bag.

XXXXXXXXXX

The ranch was still slightly visible in the sunset, the timing only slightly off with their arrival for the romantic weekend escape. Tall pines and cedars eclipsed it while the mountains stood tall and purple in the distance against a firestorm of clouds in the fading summer light. The cabin was one of her favorite places on the planet, and she couldn’t think of anywhere more secluded and perfect to hide away from the world with her beautiful girlfriend to celebrate three absolutely life-changing years.

“I would have been happy with just a hotel room downtown,” Clarke chided as she entered the giant house. “This is too much.”

“I figured it was a good excuse to use this place. It’s been years since I’ve been out,” Lexa explained as she dropped their bags in the foyer.

She made sure everything was stocked and prepared and the staff wouldn’t be around. The caretakers didn’t mind a week off, and she was just excited to be away from the city and back somewhere quiet.

“Is this the ranch your mom liked?”

“Yeah, she’d make us spend a lot of spare time out here.”

“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

“She designed it. Found an old hunting lodge and decided to convert it to a modern home. It was her labor of love.”

“Thank ou,” Clarke smiled and hugged her girlfriend before kissing her cheek. “Show me around.”

Lexa wasn’t particularly good at feeling so good, but she’d been excited and planned everything for the past month. So she took Clarke by the hand and showed her the grand room, the high ceiling and giant windows that looked out at the trees and the mountains as far as the eye could see. The fireplace was already roaring and inviting, but she took her toward the pool and hot tub area that went from outside to inside. She excitedly told her stories about being a kid, and all the stuff her and Aden would do.

By the time they made it to the bedroom she wanted, Clarke flopped onto the bed and gave up trying to figure out where she was in the maze of a house.

“So we get this whole place to ourselves for the next few days?” Clarke asked as Lexa gracefully slid beside her in the giant bed.

“Mhm, so go ahead and just take your clothes off now. I actually should have told you that at the door.”

“But I brought very cute lacy things you like me to wear.”

“Oh, wait, yeah,” Lexa nodded eagerly. “That’s all you can wear.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m yours.”

“And sappy.”

“Incredibly.”

But it was perfect, and Lexa didn’t care that her girlfriend was mocking her. She leaned forward and kissed her. She pressed Clarke into the bed and went about the task of celebrating.

XXXXXXXXXX

“I need you to carb up because I have a few more things planned for you,” Lexa explained as she reached forward and took another slice of pizza.

“Shut up.”

“I mean it. Dad keeps the W stored in the garage and I have waited three years to--”

“You can’t be serious,” Clarke laughed and shook her head, pressing her palm over her chest with how amusing she found it.

They were tangled in the sheets. They were tired and sated and happy and now nearly full from the dinner of pizza and beer.

“That’s the real reason I decided to come here,” Lexa grinned. “The romantic, candlelight bath and fireplaces, and privacy were all a ruse. You’ve been ruse-d.”

“I can’t believe I’ve kept you around for three years.”

“Me neither.”

“I should get a medal.”

“I agree completely,” Lexa decided as she hopped up from the bed. “Wait right there.”

Nearly tripping over herself, the CFO took the corner out of the room so quickly, Clarke was certain she hit the wall. The sound of padding bare feet could be heard in the bed, and for the life of her, Clarke wasn’t sure why it made her fall a little more in love, if that were even possible.

In a flash, Lexa returned, hopping into the bed, quick to hide whatever was in her hands.

“This was supposed to be a year of no gifts,” Clarke chided.

“I’m terrible at following directions. I don’t know if you knew that or not yet, but it’s a harsh truth you should start to understand.”

“You should listen to me.”

“I should,” she nodded and held out a velvet box. “I’ll start tomorrow.”

Clarke eyed her girlfriend warily and frowned at the blatant lie. But Lexa shrugged and smiled, nudging her to open the box.

“Oh, Lex, this is…”

The keychain was a tiny logo of Lexa’s company. It was plain and simple and cost exactly $2.95, and now it was dangling from Clarke’s finger as she furrowed and smiled at it despite all else because it was certainly not what she was expecting.

“It’s too much. You shouldn’t have.”

“You deserve the best,” Lexa explained, scooting closer. “Last time we did this, I wasn’t read. You weren’t ready. It wasn’t right. But now...I think it’s right. I think I want to be with you all of the time. I want to come home from business trips and see you. I want to cook dinner together. I want to sleep with you every night. I want to live together.”

Her hair was a mess, and when she was nervous, she talked with her hands. Clarke watched the entire thing without moving a muscle, because she might scare Lexa if she did. Instead, she looked at the key chain in her palm and listened.

“You’ve been making a lot of moves lately, Woods.”

“Well, the girl I love keeps pushing me to do better.”

“What if you get sick of me?”

“I won’t.”

“What if I get sick of you?”

“We’ll get a big place, so you can ignore me when I bug you,” Lexa promised.

“You’re ready for this?” Clarke asked, giving her a hard look.

“Very. Are you?”

“Very.”

Before she could say anything else, Lexa launched herself at her, and Clarke was tackled and kissed happily.

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raging-violets · 4 years ago

Text

ShadowStar: Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It’d been a week and there was no sign on the horizon that they were going to get back to their Earth anytime soon. Barry did everything he could to try and re-create the circumstances that had sent them from their Earth to…whatever Earth they were on. However, he quickly realized pushing himself wasn’t going to do anything to help their plight. If they were going to figure out how to get back, it would take time to do so.

So, to Brady’s mild horror, they settled into Blue Valley, Nebraska. Found a house to rent (it seemed that the Nash name still meant a lot while on another Earth), went out and got some new clothes, started to acclimate. And Brady was bored. There was nothing to do in Blue Valley; sure, it was picturesque, sure he knew there was barely a chance to getting back to the life they knew. But he missed his friends, missed his old life. Wondered and worried about what would happen the longer they were gone.

Nevertheless, he knew he didn’t have a choice but to sit and wait. It wasn’t like Cadence hadn’t tried to teleport back to the other Earth, her powers hadn’t worked to get them though, either. As if there was some sort of block that was keeping her from moving. Brady’s own powers, his phasing powers, weren’t strong enough to get him to another Earth, even before being stuck there.

So, he took to figuring out what it was that Blue Valley had to offer while his parents went to crate a life for them. And there was nothing. Blue Valley was as much of a ‘normal’, ‘picturesque’ town as anyone could say it was. Like living the ‘American Dream’ as he’d heard in many history classes. There was one movie theater, one drive-in, a few restaurants, a few stores. Nothing that would have a bunch of teenagers so entertained. He bet there were a lot of house parties with no supervision.

Not that it was a problem, Barry always seemed to be uneasy when it came to Brady going to parties. (Probably because Barry hadn’t been to many when he was a teen). But Brady was fifteen and needed to find some creative outlet to handle his boredom that didn’t include his powers and being found out as a meta.

Too bad he didn’t have any friends or parties to go to.

So, for that week, he moped around the house, finding what was new on the Earth they were stuck on. (Apparently, the Kardashians weren’t famous on that Earth, and that was alright with him). He was about to start another day on the computer and play video games when he saw a sheet of paper sitting at his spot at the kitchen table.

He picked it up and lifted an eyebrow toward his mother, who bustled around the kitchen making breakfast. He snorted quietly and asked, brandishing the sheet, “You enrolled me into school here?”

“Yep,” Cadence replied, popping the ‘p’ on the single syllable word. She lifted her gaze, noticing her son still staring at him and asked with a chuckle, “What did you think you were going to do? Stay home and play video games all day?” Cadence gave Brady a sharp look when his eyebrows rose. “You’re not staying home and playing video games all day.”

Brady scowled, mostly annoyed she’d managed to read his mind, as she did practically every day. (Enough so he was starting to wonder if she managed to manifest it with her meta abilities. But he hadn’t known any other firestarters to be able to do that). “There’s such a thing as homeschooling,” he pointed out.

Cadence smirked, folding her arms. “Do you want to try and sit still as Barry tries to explain your lessons to you?”

Brady’s upper lip cured. Yeah, that was a stupid idea. Barry could hardly keep from rambling when he didn’t know something. And when he did… “What about online school?”

“You need the social interaction.”

Brady snorted. “Is that what people told you when you were pregnant with me?”

Cadence pretended to think. Her words dripped with sarcasm when she finally responded. “Well, I know you didn’t have ears by that point, so you probably couldn’t hear it when people called me a slut and a whore and said I threw away my future.” Cadence smirked. “You know I don’t care much for other people’s opinions on how I raise you.”

“How about my opinions on how you raise me?”

“Don’t be such a teenager, Brady.”

“I can’t help it.” He smiled.

Cadence smiled back. “It’s called getting acclimated.”

“It’s called being forced to go to school against my will.” Brady watched as his mom left the kitchen and went to the living room where Barry sat in front of his laptop, staring intently at it. He followed her. She sat next to huer husband, who barely reacted when she joined him. “I’m sure there’re laws about that.”

“Not as bad as the laws of me not sending you to school.” Cadence’s voice turned firm. “Nice try, bud. You’re going to Blue Valley High.”

“But…” Brady’s words died on his lips as he sighed, unsure of how to explain that if they got ‘acclimated’, it meant they were staying.

Though, he was sure from the look on his mother’s face she already knew that. His mom and Barry didn’t fight much, they’d gotten better with their communication over the years. But even Brady couldn’t ignore the low rumblings of their argument from the night before when they thought he’d been asleep.

Blue Valley High it is.

Besides, he didn’t quite know what was worse, the idea of having to deal with the social hierarchy of high school or the try to figure out what was keeping them stuck on another Earth.

Either option didn’t seem very fun.

Courtney couldn’t get out of Pat’s car fast enough. She was practically clawing at the doors when Mike went on and on about his boredom and not liking Blue Valley High. Became even worse with the sound of his chomping and chewing on his breakfast burrito, gabbing all the way while dropping him off at the Middle School. And even that was marginally better than having to deal with if she let her mom drive her to school.

It’d be nothing but reassurances of being the new kid isn’t so bad. That Blue Valley High was great. That she had all those wonderful memories of going there herself. Ugh. The very last thing Courtney wanted or needed.

So, when Pat’s car pulled up at the front of the school, Courtney clambered out as quickly as she could. Fast enough she could breathe a sigh of relief. But not so fast that she wasn’t able to escape Pat’s attempt at talking to her. At trying to be a father-figure to her. She tried tuning him out, texting her friends from home.

But he talked and talked. Something about him moving around a lot, his father having been in the army, him having not many friends. Something. She wasn’t paying much attention. Well, enough attention to tell him to leave her alone and that she was talking to someone.

He respected her wishes for silence…until he gave her a hearty, “Hey, have a super great day!” the second she got out the car.

Courtney cringed, shoulders coming up to her ears when she saw all eyes turn her way in a brief, sweeping glance. Dismissive. She slammed the door behind her, wondering if anyone hard that embarrassing display of affection. When it appeared that no one was paying too close attention to her, she sighed, shoulders slumping as she relaxed. Okay. Good.

First impression wasn’t ruined yet.

She could do this.

She could handle it.

She could…find her way to the main office…maybe.

Courtney’s eyes trailed over the students that walked in front of her, streaming into the school. Studied their flannels, long sleeves, hoodies, long pants…all so different from California. Back home, she’d still be wearing her shorts and crop tops, the weather wouldn’t have turned even remotely cold. Now, she was in a green jacket, a white t-shirt with a cherry print on the front (her favorite shirt, actually), and a pair of blue jeans.

She looked…like she fit in.

With a light sigh, Courtney walked into Blue Valley High, eyes scanning the faces and places as she went. Finally, she went into what looked like the correct office; there were lines of students sitting on a stool to get their pictures taken, and others that appeared they were being given their schedules. The second Courtney stepped through the door, she was swept through line after line, giving her name after a slight hesitation.

A paper was thrust in her hands, which she quickly glanced over, before a fast-moving, teacher ushered her toward the stool where everyone was getting their pictures taken. Her eyebrows came together when she noticed a spot missing. Something she’d looked over time and time again on the school’s website, the only thing that was keeping her hope alive about having to move.

“Uh, excuse me?” She asked tentatively. “I think there might’ve been a mistake with my schedule. I was supposed to have been signed up for gymnastics.”

The teacher gently shook her head. “Sweetie, we don’t have a gymnastics team here.”

Then what was it that she was looking at time and time again? With girls who were so bendy Courtney didn’t know where their tops started and their bottoms ended. They were definitely more flexible than she was, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t get there. Did she imagine all of that in her wish to stay in California?

“But it was on your website!” Courtney exclaimed. She followed the teacher’s instruction once more, perching on the stool, dropping her backpack to the floor. “Blue Valley High has a gymnastics team!”

“And we did…last year.” The teacher waver for Courtney to stop slouching as she ducked behind a computer. “But the academic and athletic programs have been recalibrated by the American Dream for optimal participation by the students and the faculty.”

Courtney lifted an eyebrow. “I…have no idea what any of that means.”

“There are plenty other after school activities,” the teacher said. She set her coffee mug down and moved to stand behind the camera, readying it. Her eyes lit up seconds later. “How about cheerleading? That’s basically gymnastics! Plus, boys love cheerleaders.”

Courtney couldn’t help the face she made. Boys love cheerleaders? Is she serious? The thought barely crossed her mind before a blinding flash went off in her face. And seconds before she heard a light snickering behind her that made her realize someone had heard and was…laughing at her?

Annoyed, Courtney looked over her shoulder to see a boy about her age; shaggy blonde-brown hair that fell into blue-green eyes. Eyes that appeared to shine with as much mirth as the side of his turned-up mouth showed. There wasn’t anything too remarkable about him, he wore the same as any boy her age; gray t-shirt under a black button down and jeans, a bag slung over his shoulder. The disinterested look that any teenager would have, flickered through his eyes.

He noticed her look his way and lifted an eyebrow. Courtney rolled her eyes and turned away. She got up from the stool, curled her upper lip at her new photo ID, and stuck it in her pocket. She swung out into the crowded hallway once more, nearly leaping out of her skin when a girl with white-black hair and a curly haired girl suddenly appeared behind her.

“Hey new girl!” The white-black haired girl said with ease.

“Hi…” Courtney said slowly. Her eyes shifted over the two. Clearly, they were the two popular girls, or else the first one was, and her curly haired friend was her sidekick. Why else would she quicken her pace to try and keep pace with the other two.

“I’m Cindy.” The girl smiled the tiniest bit. “This is Jenny.”

“Courtney,” She introduced herself, still watching the two closely. She blinked in surprise when Cindy shrugged and gave a quick, “I know,” in response. As if she actually did know. And…how could she have known?

“So you’re from California?” Jenny asked.

Courtney’s eyes shifted back and forth. How’d they know that? Duh, Courtney, you’re new. People try to figure these things out all the time. They like to know everything about the new kid. “Yeah…”

“So, we should all hang out.” Cindy said it so finitely, so definitely that Courtney couldn’t help but feel a little kick of excitement. Maybe this was it. Maybe she was going to be able to make friends in that…slow paced hell hole sooner than she thought.

“Uh, yeah, sure!”

“Cool, I’ll text you.”

“My number is—”

“—I already have it—”

Courtney blinked in surprise, once again. Knowing where she was from, that wasn’t hard. Anyone who looked at her car’s license plate, they would’ve seen they were from California. And Blue Valley would’ve been slow enough that people would pay close attention—especially with how many people continued to wave at them. (No one was that nice!). “—How do you have my—”

“—don’t worry about it!” Cindy waved her off. Then, seconds later, she was back to her perky self and said, “Hey, you should try out for cheerleading, I’m team captain and I’m looking for a new second. I need someone who can do the splits.”

“Thanks.” Courtney sighed, feeling the annoyance shoot through her stomach once more. “But, cheerleading’s not really my thing…” She trailed off the second Cindy stopped walking. There wasn’t any outward change with Cindy, but there seemed to be a sudden chill that hung through the air. Hung between them.

A glacier that slowly but surely rocked the waves and wedged its way between them.

“Wait, so…you don’t want to hang out?” Cindy asked. Courtney thought for a moment, trying to figure out what it was that she’d said to make things get ruined so quickly. Just when she was about to turn things around. “What? No, that’s…that’s not what I was saying—”

“—So then I’ll text you!” Cindy smiled then it immediately dropped. She tipped her head to the side. Her eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, flashed briefly. “Or, maybe not! Bye!”

Courtney sighed, watching her walk away. Her shoulders slumped, the weight of her sliding backpack nearly knocking her to the ground as she did so. She slung it back up her shoulder and gasped, nearly knocking into the guy who had just been laughing at her.

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

“No problem.” He waved her off, still going down the hallway. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

Courtney’s eyebrows furrowed. She watched him as he walked by, looked at her bag, then back to him. Her eyes narrowed.

Was it her imagination…or did the bag pass through him?

Calm down, Courtney. This place is weird, but not that weird.

When the day ended, Courtney wanted nothing more than to text her friends about everything that happened. But they were in California time and who knew how long it would take for them to respond. First there was Pat being cringey, then there was no gymnastics team, then Cindy picked her up and dropped her off before she could even begin to have friends. Then there was the incident at lunch…where she was trying to help the girl at her lunch table from being slut shamed and bullied from the jerks in the letterman jackets.

He’d tried to take her phone and…Courtney had never been one to sit back and let people be bullied. So…she grabbed her phone back and shoved him…and landed in detention for it. Who got detention just for shoving someone? And her phone was taken away because of it, where it sat on the teacher’s desk as punishment. Like that was supposed to be a big thing, that they couldn’t hold onto their phones for a few hours. But…it just reminded her of how little she had to hold onto, for excitement and things to look forward to.

And, finally, when she was let out of detention, she’d missed the bus. All she could do was watch as it slowly drove out of sight. With no way of knowing how he was going to get home. And the last thing she was going to do was call Pat to drive her home, where she’d have to deal with his trying to be ‘father of the year’ and pry into her life. Couldn’t he be like all the other normal fathers and leave her alone and make her mom deal with everything? And stop being so…bumbling?

Well, I guess that is like all other fathers, Courtney reminded herself. You just really wouldn’t know. Reaching up, she used both hands to brush her hair back from her face while letting out the biggest sigh she could muster. Turning, she looked back to the school, wondering if there was going to be another bus coming. Her eyes leveled and, within seconds, she recognized the boy lounging on the steps in front of her, watching her curiously.

The same one she’d seen all day; the one who laughed at her, who she’d hit with her backpack, who’d been nearby in the cafeteria when she shoved that bully and there he was after school!

All at once, Courtney felt all the day’s frustrations hit her. “Who are you?” She demanded. “Why are you stalking me?” Courtney demanded. He looked startled for a moment, then annoyed. Courtney frowned, noticing he didn’t answer her questions. “What is your name?”

“Brady Nash,” he replied, continuing to lounge on the steps, legs stretched out. He worked a yo-yo in his hand, shooting it straight out in front of him then back into his palm without looking. He shot it in an around the world motion then looked back up at her. “And I’m not stalking you. I think they have new students have similar schedules.”

For a moment, Courtney felt her cheeks flush. That’d make sense. “You’re new, too?”

Brady made what was a cross between a smirk and a snort. She was starting to hate that. “I’m always new.”

Tag List: @darknightfrombeyond @hogwarts-is-my-wonderland @foxesandmagic @ben-bcrnes @witchofinterest @jerigoats @perfectlystiles @itsjustgracy @codenamekryptonite @ochub @ocappreciationtag @arrowverseocs

#ocappreciationtag #arrowverseocs #star girl #the flash #crossover #courtney whitmore #oc: brady nash #shadowstar #fic: shadow star #chapter update #by: riley

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give-me-back-my-rhodey · 5 years ago

Text

Hungry Hungry Peter

A fic for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange for @foxes-and-arrows

Rating: Gen

Warnings: Starvation tw

Summary: Peter loves hanging out at the Tower, but no one seems to notice he needs more food than a normal teenage boy. Peter doesn't want to say anything because he doesn't want Tony to have to worry about yet another thing. How long can he go on before someone notices?

AO3 LINK

Peter likes it when Thor resides at the Tower. First, he's Thor. Second, Peter enjoys his humor and ye-olde stories. But one of the things that he enjoys the most is the amount of food they have at meals. Steve and Bucky eat a lot, but Thor can out-eat them all.

Before the spider bite, Peter was your average teenage boy. Aunt May had used the term “wooden leg" to describe his eating habits. He could eat a whole 2ft-long hoagie plus in one sitting. Now, with his increased metabolism, he needs to eat more. May knows about this and makes sure to order enough food. But when he’s at the tower, he feels weird asking Tony to get more food. Tony does so much for the team already – he doesn’t need to make sure he orders an extra serving for someone. Harley complains all the time that everyone asks Tony for too much.

May is taking a vacation in Barbados with a friend, and Peter is spending the week at the Tower. It’s Father’s Day, and Tony suggested having a movie night. He, Peter, Harley, Morgan, Pepper, and Rhodey settle into the theater for a Disney movie binge. Peter knows Pepper is only there because Tony asked her to be present, and Rhodey is only there so he can spend time with his goddaughter. Peter doesn’t mind because he loves Disney movies. “Tonight is about fathers,” He tells them. “I asked FRIDAY to queue up some Disney movies that have good fathers.”

Finding Nemo is first, The Lion King, and then A Goofy Movie are played sequentially. Peter gets popcorn and candy for everyone. He’s hungry, and he knows Tony won’t mind if he eats a bucket of popcorn by himself, but to draw attention away from himself, Peter fills a large bucket for each of them.

“Woah! This is a lot of popcorn!” Rhodey exclaims. “I’m not gonna eat this all. Do you wanna share, Morgan?” Pepper and Tony end up sharing a bucket, which leaves Harley and Peter each to their own.

Peter eats a bucket and a half of popcorn under the guise that he didn’t want it to go to waste, but he senses Harley watching him. It’s making him uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Harley doesn’t say anything to him, but Peter doesn’t want to get on his bad side. He knows what “Team Cap” went through when they returned to the tower. Coercing FRIDAY to help, Harley rained hell down on them via a series of pranks and inconveniences until Tony had heard enough complaints and forced him to stop. Even though everyone had kissed and made up, most of the pardoned Avengers steer clear of Harley. The others watch him with begrudged admiration. Peter wishes everyone would treat him like Harley, but the older boy disagrees. “Nah, they all love you, and they would do anything for you. Not me though. Most of them hate me but are too afraid to do anything about it.”

Peter walks down to breakfast the next morning to find Thor manning the stove. He perks up, knowing a big breakfast awaits them. Thor always cooks tons of food, and half of the Avengers don’t even eat breakfast. “Peter!” Thor exclaims. “It is good to see you. I was just about to make an omelet. How many eggs would you like?”

“Hi Thor! I’ll take five or six eggs if there’s enough.” Peter walks over to stand beside Thor.

The god moves over to make more room for Peter. “You know Tony always keeps the food well-stocked. I’ll make you seven. Would you like the works as well? I have brought some of that bacon you like so much.”

Peter wraps an arm – as far as he can – around Thor’s back for a quick side hug, then goes to the table to wait for his breakfast. Two minutes later, Harley saunters in. “Morning Thor. Whatcha making today?”

“Peter Parker omelets,” Thor announces proudly. “Peter showed me how to make them last time. Here, you cook the bacon, then potatoes. You add cheese and pour the egg over top. Add more cheese when the egg is cooked, and you have an omelet. It was quite good.”

“Sounds good. Can I have one with three eggs?”

Peter is finished eating his breakfast when Tony bustles in. “Oh, hey Thor. What time did you get in?”

“Early this morning,” Thor replies. “I told you I could be quiet if necessary. Want a Peter omelet?”

Tony is making coffee and glances up. “What? Oh no, not today. I’ve got a board meeting that I am attending to appease my darling wife. Hey Pete, want to stop by in, say, three hours? I have a job for you.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Stark! I’ll be there.” Peter grins. He loves working at SI with Tony.

Harley swipes his milk glass to take a swig and smirks when Peter notices twenty seconds later. “You know you can just call him Tony.”

“I did – had been.” Peter blushes. “But then I called him ‘dad,’ and now I’ve reverted.”

Harley simply smiles and exits the kitchen.

++++++

Three hours later, Peter and Harley are working with Tony on a new type of solar panel when his stomach starts to growl. “Hungry?” Tony asks. “I can order some food. What sounds good?”

“I’m ok. Whatever you want, I can eat.”

Tony orders three combo meals of Pad Thai, and Peter still feels famished afterwards, but he keeps quiet. They finish the panel two hours later, and Pepper and Happy meet them to go home.

Thor is not around for team dinner, and as Steve and Bucky are both present, Peter doesn’t get as much food as he would like. After a Mario Kart tournament (which Bucky wins after narrowly beating Natasha on Rainbow Road), Peter reads Morgan a bedtime story and tucks her in so that Tony and Pepper have an hour to themselves. “Good night Princess Morgan. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“I will bite them back!” She crows, giggling.

He grins. “They’ll be too afraid to come out now.” Peter loves Morgan. She’s like his little sister, and he will do everything he can to keep her safe. She clutches her stuffed spider to her chest and closes her eyes. Peter sits with her for a few minutes, and his stomach rumbles.

Morgan’s eyes pop open, and she asks, “Hungwy?”

“Just a little. I’ll be ok.” He pats her hand. “You need to go to sleep.”

“If you’re hungwy, we can get juice pops,” Tony’s daughter bargains.

Peter smirks. This little child is the daughter of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts – of course she will try to cut a deal. She’s going to be unstoppable when she takes over. “Now, missy. I am not your dad. You may have me wrapped around your finger, but I don’t want to face your mom’s wrath when she finds you still awake with a sugar high. If Uncle Rhodey is afraid of that, then you can bet your boots that Peter is, too.”

Morgan seems to consider that for a moment, and she nods. “Ok, I sleep, but juice pops tomorrow.”

“Juice pops tomorrow sounds good. Pinkie promise.” The pinkie promise seems to satisfy the five-year-old, and she promptly closes her eyes. Peter turns out her light and turns on the fake arc reactor nightlight.

He is almost out the door when he hears her whisper, “I love you one thousand-two hundred-and twenty-six.”

“I love you one thousand-two hundred-and twenty-six, too.” He whispers back and closes the door behind him.

Peter heads out on patrol for an hour or so. Usually, this is the time he picks up some extra food, but he has no cash. He catches a few car thieves and saves a man from getting hit by a speeding car. Exhausted, he stops on a roof to catch his breath.

Tony finds him there ten minutes later. “Hey kid, you ok?”

“Yea, yea… I’m… fine. Just enjoying the view from here,” Peter gestures to the New York skyline.

“It is beautiful,” Tony’s modulated voice agrees. “Want a ride home?”

“That would be great. Thank you, Mr.… I mean, Tony.”

Iron Man picks up Spiderman and flies him to the roof of Stark Tower. They sit there watching the city lights. “Hey, I want to say thank you for putting Morgs to bed. Pep and I haven’t had a whole lot of alone time recently.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. I love her.”

“And she loves you, too. She always asks when you’ll be coming to stay for a while. I keep trying to get May to move in, but she wants you to have a safe place elsewhere as well. I commend her for that. How have you been? We haven’t had a talk in a while.”

“I – I’ve been good. School’s been fine. I’m happy. How are you?”

“So-so. I’ve been sleeping better. Morgan has been a blessing, as have you and Harley. By the way, Pete, when you called me ‘Dad,’ I reacted the way I did because I wasn’t expecting it. I want you to know that you are like a son to me, and if you want to call me dad, I am perfectly fine with it.” Tony places a gauntleted hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Thanks. I – I’ll keep that in mind.” Peter acknowledges. “So… never mind.”

“You sure? Nothing I can help you with?” Tony asks.

Peter shakes his head. “Nah, it’s… nothing.”

“Ok, I’m going to head in. You should probably come in soon as well.” Tony stands. “Good night kid.”

++++++

The week goes by, and Peter just can’t seem to eat enough. No matter how much he eats, he has to make sure his stomach doesn’t growl at inopportune moments. And he hates how he gets so tired after a night on patrol.

Friday morning finds him waking up the sound of the Avengers alarm. The threat is low-risk – large robot geese roaming the city streets and attacking civilians. Peter joins the fight, but due to his lack of energy, tires quickly. He crouches down behind an overturned car, trying to catch his breath, when a large goose starts beating his head with a metal wing. He quickly passes out… and wakes in a bed in the hospital wing.

Harley is sitting on the chair, watching him. He’s always watching. In his head, Peter asks, “What do you want?” but it comes out as “Wha wan?”

“You know, now is probably not the best time to lecture you, but you know what? You’re stuck here for the moment so I’m going to,” Harley leans forward in his seat. “Why aren’t you eating enough? Are you starving yourself?”

Peter’s eyes widen. Is that why Harles’ has been watching me so closely? “NO!”

“That doesn’t seem suspicious at all,” The older boy scoffs. “I’m sorry. I should be showing more tact. What’s going on, Peter?”

“Can’ talk. Paper.” Peter manages out. His head is pounding, and he just feels weak.

Harley swipes a holo-keyboard over to him, but says, “If you’re too tired, we can talk later. I just am concerned for you.”

Not starving self. Just need more food, but don’t want to burden T. He’s got enuf on his plate. Peter types.

“Peter,” Harley’s voice grows soft. “When I said those things, I meant the team getting on his case about upgrading armor and weapons. They ask for the tiniest upgrades that take hours to complete when their stuff is better than what they would have been getting from SHIELD. Tony has a wife and kids now, and he doesn’t need to spend time in his lab for things that don’t need to be done. Now, you, you need food to survive. You need way more food than Tony or I do because you have the increased metabolism. All Tony needs to do with that is order another serving of food. Three extra words to an order. It takes a maximum of 2 minutes. And you’re basically his son. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. The only reason he’s not here right now is because Morgan has an ear infection.”

Harley gets interrupted by a knock on the door. Tony sticks his head in. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Yea. Are you staying?” Harley moves to get up.

“Stay there. I can pull up another chair,” Tony waves his hand at Harley. “Morgan’s finally sleeping, and the pain seems to be gone. Rhodey’s sitting in with her so I could come see you. How are you feeling, Peter?”

So-so. He types out.

“Sorry I couldn’t be here sooner. Morgs had an ear infection, and Pepper’s in Japan. Harles offered to stay here with you so I could be with Morgan,” Tony explains, and Peter nods. “By the way kid, I’m also sorry that I didn’t notice you hadn’t been getting enough to eat. You’d think with a tower full of geniuses and super spies that someone would notice, but we didn’t. We’re going to order a lot more food from here out, and never be afraid to ask for more. They don’t call me a billionaire for nothing.” Tony pats the bed by Peter’s arm. “I love you, kid. I’d do anything for you.”

A tear slips down Peter’s cheek. “I love you, too, Dad.”

#irondad and spiderson #the friendly neighborhood exchange

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makomori · 4 years ago

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FOUR | OBSERVATIONS

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI x OC

Nishimura Yua has to take her nephew to his first rep practice with the Tohoku Tigers at Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima Wakatoshi is filling in for the assistant coach on said team.

She’s recovering from a nasty breakup and he’s reeling from a stunning finals loss against the Jackals.

Yua’s drawn to his composure and honesty.

Wakatoshi finds her warmth and tenacity intriguing.

It’s the start of a Brand New Story; can they heal from past hurts and endure new challenges in order to help each other trust and love again?

CHAPTERS

ONE | NEW TERRITORY

TWO | FAMILIARITY

THREE | INTRODUCTIONS

Length: 3.5k words

Yua goes in to event planner mode while Wakatoshi assesses Rui-kun's skills. And an innocent gesture throws both parties off balance.

If someone makes you feel, let them. | Reyna Biddy

Step one: Get Rui-kun to practice with one of the best wing spikers in the V.League.

CHECK.

Yua tried not to look too satisfied with herself, but that turned out exactly how she thought it would. Well, maybe not exactly, but it was close. A big part of her job was facilitating meetings between two parties and setting up this pepper session was no different. In fact, it was easier because she didn’t have to read between the lines with Rui-kun and his Wakatoshi-san. They loved volleyball and that more than enough for them to connect.

After Wakatoshi-san left her to practice with an almost-bouncing Rui-kun, Yua placed her overcoat and backpack on the sidelines. Good thing she decided to wear her favourite pair of stretchy, high-waisted jeans and a black t-shirt; she’d be bending and twisting to get the net set up properly. Plus, stretchy meant she could eat whatever she wanted without feeling guilty.

Two of her closest friends at Date Tech were managers on the volleyball teams, so she often got roped into setting up and cleaning up whenever they needed extra help. And by the looks of things, Shiratorizawa’s equipment wasn’t too different from she was used to dealing with.

With a little, “Hup!” she carried one pole across the gym, placed it upright, and did the same for the other. Next, she hooked the cord on the wheel at the top of the pole and adjusted its height before looping the end in the crank box. Once she used the crank to get one side somewhat level, she dragged the net to the opposite pole and repeated the process until everything was taut. The last thing she had to do was secure the bottom corners of the net with the loose strings.

Step two: Set up the net.

CHECK.

Satisfied, she walked to the back of the gym to examine her handiwork. Nice and even. Not bad, considering she hadn’t set a net up since high school. Hopefully, that would hold up for their three-hour practice. But the more she admired her handiwork, the more she felt something was missing. Ah, the antennas! They were laying close to the equipment closet, so she nearly missed them.

“Ushijima-sensei!” Yua called. The tall man looked over at her briefly before receiving Rui-kun’s strong spike. She grinned. His swing had become more powerful since the last time she saw him play a year ago. She couldn’t wait to see him spike freely in a game.

His sensei remained unfazed. But he said something to Rui-kun that she couldn’t hear. But judging by the look of pure joy on her nephew’s face, she guessed it was a compliment. She walked over to them, partly because she was nosey and wanted to hear what they were talking about, and because the sensible part of her sent a reminder that it was rude to yell a question to someone you had just met from across the gym.

But the selfish part of her wanted to see the Adlers’ Left Cannon in action.

Wakatoshi-san was certainly a fearsome individual to behold when he was on TV and constantly spiking the shit out of the ball. But he was softer in person. She meant it when she said he was sweet. The look of amazement on his face was priceless; he probably didn’t hear that too often. But her respect for him deepened as she heard him speak to Rui-kun about dealing with failure.

Learning to bounce back from something that didn’t work out was invaluable lesson not only volleyball, but in life. She knew that because she was trying to bounce back from having her heart broken. She didn’t know how her recovery would turn out, but that would be a problem for her future self.

Yua decided to watch them pepper for a bit before she asked about setting up the antennas. Wakatoshi-san was just a bit taller than Tak-kun, who towered over her five-seven frame at six-foot-three. The sleeves of his white warmup sweater were rolled up and she did her best not to ogle at his leanly muscled forearms and obnoxiously large hands while they were speaking earlier. But she didn’t feel guilty about giving him a once over because he did the same to her. She was used to clients scrutinizing her and passing hard judgements, but she didn’t sense any of that negativity from him. Only curiosity. Which, in turn, made her curious about him.

Now, his face resembled what she saw on TV. Sharp angles and a singular, driven look in his dark golden eyes. He was barely out of breath, which was impressive because she was certain that he’d been practicing on his own for at least forty-five minutes before they arrived. And while most people would be easy going during a pepper session, he was purposeful and meticulous. None of his movements were unnecessary or wasted. The boys would certainly be spoiled if he decided to stay on for the season.

Wakatoshi was highly aware of Yua-san’s presence the whole time she was working on the net, and he was surprised at how fast she completed its setup. She moved with ease and confidence, and he once again had to stop himself from staring, this time at her curvaceous form. She said that her brother was a player, which could explain why she was so comfortable in this setting. Hm. If sensei was still having trouble finding a manager, Yua-san could be a solid option for the position. However, he was troubled because he was always focused where volleyball was concerned. So, trying to maintain his concentration while she watched him from a few feet away was difficult.

He was used to being watched by thousands of screaming people when he played in huge arenas, so he couldn’t figure out why one person’s attention was so unsettling. But then again, he didn’t know very many people like Yua-san. He felt the urge to show off in front of her, which surprised him because he wasn’t a flashy player. He needed to do something to draw her interest back to Rui-kun.

Yua, ignorant of his swirling thoughts, finally asked, “Should I set up the attack antennas, too?” She knew that the antennas were mandatory for official games but wasn’t sure if Saitou-sensei wanted to use them during practice. Wakatoshi-san surprised them both by catching the ball. He turned to Yua and she raised her brows slightly, a questioning look in her eyes. She almost laughed because could feel Rui-kun pouting because she knew he was having a great time peppering.

“Not yet,” he rumbled in that ridiculous baritone. Yua fought the shiver that raced up her spine. He sounded more attractive in person, too. “I can set them up before the practice game.”

“Ushijima-sensei, did I do something wrong?” Rui-kun’s earlier thoughts of rejection crept back, but he was relieved when his coach shook his head in the negative.

“No, Rui-kun, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m happy to see that your form is solid overall.” The teen’s face lit up at his sensei’s compliment. “Now that the net is up; I want to see what your spikes look like. Yua-san, do you mind helping me with this drill?”

Rui didn’t need to be told twice. He was at the attack line before his sensei or aunt could blink. Wakatoshi chuckled. If the rest of the boys were half as energetic as Rui-kun, he and Saitou-sensei would be run into the ground before the end of the day. But that was always a good problem to have. Passion for the game was necessary for a healthy team.

“How could I say no to that energy?” Yua laughed as they walked to the net. Wakatoshi-san pulled the ball hammock along so they wouldn’t have to run for the ball every time Rui-kun spiked. “I haven’t seen you play in a year, so let’s see how much you’ve improved.” When she stood beside Wakatoshi-san in the setter’s position, she was once again reminded at how short she was. Actually, no, she thought with a huff. He was just absurdly tall.

“Sensei, Yua-chan can set for me! She’s really good!” Wakatoshi-san tried to hide a knowing look and grin, as if Rui-kun’s admission confirmed something he thought about her. Her eyes narrowed but she decided to let that go for now.

“Rui-kun!” She protested with her hands set firmly on her generous hips. She scowled up at Wakatoshi, and he thought she looked charming even though he felt ferocious energy coming off her in waves. “Wakatoshi-san, I’m not a player. I’ve been Tak-kun’s pepper partner since we were kids, but I’ve never played in an official game.”

Wakatoshi’s eyes gleamed playfully. “This isn’t an official game. Just a drill. If you set, I’ll be free to observe Rui-kun’s approach and attack. Even if your set isn’t perfect, I can see what he needs to adjust and make suggestions right away.”

Step three: Set for Rui-kun in front of the Ushijima Wakatoshi.

CHECK?

Yua could tell he was enjoying the position she was currently in, because she was having a hard time denying his logic and Rui-kun’s pleading face. She chewed on her bottom lip for a few moments before deciding. “Oh, all right,” she sighed, shooting the two of them a mock glare. “But only because it’ll help you improve.”

“Don’t worry about the set; I’ll do my best to spike it!” Rui-kun stood a few feet behind the attack line, his body already set for an approach. Yua smiled at him, thankful that he was trying to make her feel better. Setting was the last thing she thought she’d be doing today. And in front of a professional, no less. She’d just have to treat it like all those times she practiced with Tak-kun in the backyard. No biggie.

“Set the ball high, and about two feet away from the net. That will give him time to adjust his approach if he needs to.” Yua blinked and followed Wakatoshi-san’s outstretched hand when he pointed to the spot in front of her. She didn’t realize that he had bent down to her level because she was so focused on getting the first set right. His voice, close to her ear, was deep and reassuring. It helped calm her down. He then stood to his full height and tossed the ball to Rui-kun. “It’ll be easier to set if he tosses to you first.”

“Is this your first time coaching, Ushijima-sensei?” She asked teasingly as he positioned himself just off the court, right on the attack line. It was the best place to observe Rui-kun’s technique. She rubbed her hands together before shaking her fingers out a few times.

Wakatoshi nodded. He hoped that he was doing a decent job at imparting the advice his coaches had given to him in the past. “It is. I’ll most likely be coaching after I decide to retire, so this is good practice.”

“You had me fooled,” she joked, lifting her arms in a setting motion. Her hands were positioned just above her forehead with fingers curled, shaped like a ball. Not bad. “With your tips, I feel like I could set in a game right now.”

“Yua-chan,” Rui-kun piped up, a whine in his tone. “Are you ready?” He was itching to hear what sensei had to say about his spiking technique.

She shook her head and clapped her hands once. “Sorry, sweetheart! I’m ready now.”

Wakatoshi had his arms crossed when Rui-kun tossed the ball to Yua-san. She concentrated, positioned her hands for the set, and used her arms and wrists to send the ball almost perfectly to the spot he indicated for her. His attention then shifted to Rui-kun so he could assess his approach properly, but by the time he turned, the teen was already soaring through the air.

Rui-kun’s right arm positioned high, with his elbow above his ear. His left arm was outstretched but quickly came down to his side as he used that momentum to propel his right hip and shoulder forward. His hitting arm was relaxed when his right elbow drove forward above his head to start his swing. As a result, his right hand was loose, and bent fingers opened naturally from the intense acceleration. His now-open hand connected with the ball just above his head, and a deafening crack echoed through the gym.

Wakatoshi’s eyes widened when the ball careened straight down the line and landed with a satisfying THUD on the other side of the court. He gaped at the teen who had just landed in front of him. A near-perfect line shot at his age? No wonder sensei wanted him on the team.

“Ah, gomen!” Rui-kun exclaimed, jogging backwards to reposition himself behind the attack line. “That was out. Let me try again!”

“Rui-kun, that was amazing!” Yua couldn’t believe that he had improved this much in a year. From what she could tell, his vertical increased by a few inches, his mid-air form was cleaner, and his swing was faster and harder. She looked over at Wakatoshi-san, who’s sharp eyes were filled with approval.

“Well done,” the ace declared with a nod. “But curl your fingers down a bit more. You’ll be able to send the ball to the back corner next time.”

Rui nodded energetically and caught another ball before tossing it back to his aunt. She set a bit higher this time, so he slowed his approach before swinging his arms back and leaping into the air. When his hand contacted the ball this time, he made sure to curve his fingers down. The ball landed snugly in the back-left corner, just like sensei said it would. After landing, he immediately turned to his mentor with unbridled excitement in his eyes.

Wakatoshi smiled and nodded again. “How did that feel?” He knew all too well about the satisfaction of landing a solid kill. Rui-kun’s instincts were strong. He was able to adjust and execute a subtle instruction quickly. Of course, there was always room for improvement, but he liked that Rui-kun was immediately willing to try again after his first spike was critiqued. Some players stayed stuck in their heads for too long and that hindered their ability to improve. He knew that firsthand.

Rui-kun stared at his right hand. The force of the hit was still vibrating in his palm and fingertips. “That felt amazing, sensei! How did you know that all I had to do was curl my fingers down?”

“Experience,” Wakatoshi chuckled. “But that comes in time. I have a feeling your skills will increase greatly during this season.” Perhaps he’d talk to sensei about taking on another assistant coach. It was good to be around young players who were hungry to learn as many skills as possible.

Yua smiled as the two of them talked in detail about the approach, with Wakatoshi-san occasionally demonstrating and positioning Rui-kun in front of the net. Both looked comfortable and relaxed in their element. This is what she was missing in Tokyo. Work had her moving at such a fast pace that she didn’t have time to experience genuine human connections. She worked with people all the time but got lost in the fray more time than she could recall. And the longer she watched her nephew learn from his idol and now mentor, her heart was happy that she was able to experience this with him.

Moving to Sendai was a good choice. And maybe her road to recovery wouldn’t be so bad after all.

By the time Saitou-sensei arrived at 12:40, Wakatoshi-san had made several adjustments to Rui-kun’s form. Yua quietly stepped away and made sure that the rest of the equipment was in place for the start of practice. Her nephew was quickly absorbing everything taught to him, and she knew that he’d be practicing non-stop when he got home. She couldn’t wait to meet Saitou—

“Konnichiwa!”

Yua turned at the kind voice and smiled. Saitou-sensei was tall, though not as tall as Wakatoshi-san, and sported a buzz-cut and glasses. “Hello, sensei. I’m Nishimura Yua. It’s nice to meet you.” She bowed. “I hope you don’t mind; I brought Rui-kun early so we could warm up, but we luckily ran into Wakatoshi-san.”

Sensei brow furrowed. “Nishimura?” He murmured. Then his brows raised. “Are you related to Takeshi-kun?”

“Unfortunately, he’s my brother,” Yua laughed. “He’s a middle blocker at Waseda now. And he’s always told me that you’re his favourite coach.”

Saitou grinned at the Nishimura likeness. From the dimples to the mischievous glint in their eyes. “I used to see you in the stands at our games. Tak-kun said you were his biggest supporter.”

“Not by choice,” she groaned. But her tone was light. “It’s just the two of us, so we ended up becoming involved in each other’s hobbies.”

“That’s never a bad thing,” Saitou chuckled. He was glad to hear that Tak-kun was doing well in Waseda. They had won the Intercollegiate Championship three years in a row.

“I agree,” Yua said, her eyes misting slightly. She missed her brother. “I learned a lot from watching games with him or whenever we’d pepper together.”

“I hope he can come up to visit. It would be nice to catch up with him.”

Yua hadn’t seen Tak-kun in a few months, so she was excited to catch up with him, too. “I’ll let him know; I’m sure he’ll be able to come up soon.”

Saitou nodded and looked over at Wakatoshi-san and his young charge. Rui-kun was currently working on his vertical with Wakatoshi-san watching him intently. “I’m excited to work with Rui-kun. His instincts and awareness are incredible for his age.”

Yua’s heart warmed at the compliment. She only had a glimpse of what her nephew was capable of. She could only imagine the player he’d be by the end of the season. “Thank you for giving him the opportunity. I know he’ll only get better with you and Wakatoshi-san training him.”

Before Saitou could answer, he saw some of the players walk through the gym doors. He bowed quickly to Yua. “Ah, excuse me. More students are arriving. I hope to see you again soon, Yua-san.”

Yua nodded and waved at him. She started walking toward the net, hoping to say goodbye to Rui-kun, but he dashed past her, yelling excitedly at his friends who had just arrived. She shook her head. That energy was all Tetsu-kun. She moved toward the sidelines, remembering that’s where she left her overcoat and backpack before she set up the net. But she frowned when she didn’t see them there.

“Allow me.”

Yua looked to her right and saw her overcoat suspended in mid-air, ready to be worn. She glanced up and saw Wakatoshi-san standing next to her, patiently waiting for her to loop her arms in the sleeves. A blush crept up the back of her next when she saw him flick his eyes up and down her body. She might have just broken up with Kaz, but she’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t find Wakatoshi-san attractive. She turned and slipped her arms in the coat sleeves, grateful for the brief pause.

Before Yua turned to face him, he ran his fingers across her shoulders, smoothing out any creases in the back of her coat. She bit back a gasp. His touch was strong, sure, and her skin tingled through the thick layer of cloth. When she did turn, he held out her backpack, which looked even smaller with his long fingers wrapped around the straps. She stared at his calloused hand briefly before taking her bag. Their fingers brushed, and her eyes widened when pure energy raced from his fingers and up her arm. She pulled back, startled. His face mirrored her expression of astonishment.

What the hell was that?

They stared at each other for a few moments, oblivious to the growing level of noise in the gym. Yua couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking, but his dark golden eyes were stormy as he tried to process what happened.

One thing was certain; something irrevocable had passed between them.

Yua was the first to break their standoff. His eyes were too intense for her right now. “Can you tell Rui-kun that I’ll pick him up by 4:15? I know it’ll take some time to clean everything up.”

Wakatoshi-san held her gaze for a bit longer, and she found herself holding her breath again. Slowly, his eyes softened. When he finally spoke, she was relieved to hear the playful lilt return to his voice. “Things would go faster if you came back early to help.”

Yua scoffed and squeezed her fingers tightly around her backpack. “I-I think you’ll be able to handle that without me, Ushijima-sensei.”

He tilted his head and smiled. Yua decided then that a smiling Wakatoshi-san was more dangerous than a serious Wakatoshi-san. “I’ll let Rui-kun know. See you later?” Her stomach flipped at his hopeful tone.

“See you later, sensei.”

#mywriting #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi ushijima #ushiwaka #ushijima #wakatoshi #ushijima x oc #ushiwaka x oc #haikyuulovestory #haikyuu #hq!!#hq!! x oc #@kurosiee #kurosiee #THIS CHAPTER GAVE ME BUTTERFLIES!!!!!!

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let-it-raines · 6 years ago

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Halloween One-Shot

Summary: Discovering you have magic in a world where it doesn’t exist is scary enough. Having yourself exposed as some kind of magical being because onion rings are falling from the sky might be even worse.

Rating: Somewhere between teen and mature

Tag list: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @branlovesouat @mayquita @nikkiemms @teamhook @cs-forlife

Also found on ao3 | here |

Happy Halloween (almost) everybody! I’ve never been one for things that go bump in the night and stories that have me hiding under the blankets shaking in my boots, but I am one for some Halloween fun and some Halloween puns. So I hope you enjoy this magical little tale that was so very fun to write.

-/-

The Harry Potter stories have been banned from hundreds of libraries across the world for various reasons, most commonly because people believe that if impressionable children read these stories, they’ll believe in witchcraft. It’s a funny thing, though. Since when did believing in something make it come true?

Emma Swan always believed that she’d be adopted. She never was.

Emma Swan always believed that she’d find a family. She never did.

Emma Swan always believed that she’d find a place where she belonged. She didn’t.

But here’s the thing. Emma Swan believed in a lot of things, but it’s the one thing she never believed would happen to her that ended up happening. Well, two things, but she doesn’t know about that second thing yet.

She was five the first time signs of her magic showed up, but she didn’t know what was happening, didn’t even believe magic was real as most kids do at the age, already jaded against the world. It was a blustery night, the winds howling outside as the rain beat against the roof, water dripping through the ceiling into buckets her foster home had the children put out to keep the floor from being ruined. The entire night her stomach felt like spiders were crawling around inside, and she couldn’t shake the nerves arising in her. It wasn’t that she was scared of storms. She really wasn’t. This was all going to be fine. But then a tree branch got loose and crashed through the window, the glass spraying across the room and a large shard landing on her leg, cutting a slash open and causing a scream to emanate from Emma.

She still has the scar, pale against her thigh.

She’d screamed and then all of the lights had gone off, the formally dull gray house now completely black. She remembers her foster father, so harsh and abrasive, yelling at her for getting cut because she needed stitches and that would cost them time and money. She still remembers the sting of the tears in her eyes as she tried to act like everything was okay. It wasn’t.

The power outage had nothing to do with the storm outside.

Emma doesn’t remember any other instances of her magic showing up, though she’s sure there were quite a few, until she was seventeen. She’d been dating this guy, Neal. He was older, a bit mysterious, and as someone who had never had someone of her own, someone to love her, she was desperatefor him to be the one to love her. And maybe he did at one point, but she’ll never really know. She never wants to know, if she’s honest with herself.

He…well, he was harsh with her, not liking when she didn’t listen to him or when she told him she couldn’t hang out because she had to go to school. It wasn’t that she felt a particular fondness for school, but her foster mom at the time kept track of her attendance and Emma wasn’t interested in finding out what would happen if she skipped out on a day. So one day after a few months of dating, he snapped. She told him she couldn’t see him that day, and he showed up at her school, grabbing her arm and pulling her away to his beat-up Chevy.

She was in no way weak, but he was bigger, stronger, and he had no problem getting her to move. She just didn’t want to move with him, so she closed her eyes and willed him to let her go and to go away. When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the schoolyard but in her bedroom, the flowery comforter at her fingertips and her backpack on the floor.

There was…well, there was no denying anything after that.

Something was different about Emma.

Something was different and that something was that she had fucking magic.

Holy crap. She’s basically Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Where the hell is her sarcastic talking cat? She totally wants a Salem of her own.

She quickly shook that thought out of her head because magic wasn’t real. That was something that was just in books and movies, folklore and mythological tales. It wasn’t something that happened to a girl living in Boston, Massachusetts. That’s just damn crazy.

Maybe Emma was damn crazy.

(Of course, Boston is close to Salem…and not the talking cat Salem.)

She wasn’t crazy. She just had this apparently real magic, and what the hell was she supposed to do about that? Who could she tell about that? Was there anyone to even tell about that? Is there a coven of witches or warlocks or wizards to talk to? Maybe even a genie? Hell, could she get a fairy godmother?

There was probably no such thing.

Bippity. Boppity. Boo.

If she told someone, she’d be put into a mental institution for sure.

Emma didn’t know the answer to any of these questions, and she didn’t make an effort to find someone to talk to. It was…too much. It was too much to try to find someone to help her. She’d been alone her entire life, figured everything out on her own, so why wouldn’t she be able to do that now?

So that’s the spark notes version of how she’s ended up here, a twenty-eight-year-old cop who lives a normal life with absolutely nothing weird happening…until she goes home and turns on and off the lights with the flick of her finger or turns on the coffee pot while she’s still in bed.

She’s a witch (or some other magical being she can never really land on one), and she uses her magic to help her be lazy.

She’s crushing it.

The one thing she hasn’t figured out how to do is instantaneously blow dry her hair, and that’s honestly the biggest tragedy of all. That takes forever, and it’s like if she can transport herself from one place to another, why the hell can she not blow dry her hair?

She likes to think that she’s pretty normal despite her oddities. She does own an unusual amount of black, but that’s because black clothes are the best, okay? And she does own her trusty red leather jacket, so it’s not like she’s walking around in drapes and flowing black fabrics with a corset and a wart on her nose. Plus, she doesn’t own anything particularly witch-like. She has a broom, but that’s because she has to clean her apartment. And the closest thing she has to a cauldron is the pot she attempts to cook in. She’s sure she wouldn’t be able to make potions or whatever because she can barely boil water.

Forget double double toil and trouble.

It’s double double boiland trouble.

Also, she had a cat once, Charlie, and he didn’t talk. He just swatted at Emma until she fed him. Maybe it’s because he was orange instead of black. (She totally didn’t name him Charlie because he reminded her of the great pumpkin in Charlie Brown.) Magic probably has these super weird rules or something. She doesn’t know. She just read the Harry Potter books and watched Hocus Pocus.

Maybe she should do a musical number to cast a spell on everyone like Bette Midler.

“Swan,” Killian calls, nudging her foot underneath their desks, “Swan, did you hear the Captain?”

She shakes out of her thoughts, trying to clear her mind of all magical thoughts to look at her desk partner (and patrol partner and partner in literally every little thing she’s had to do at work for the past five years) staring at her with those damned blue eyes that drive her crazy when she’s trying to focus on something important…like the fact that she is thinking about if it’d be too obvious to poof some onion rings to her desk right now.

Who needs magical rings like the one (to rule them all) from Lord of the Rings when you can have onion rings?

“Uh, no Jones,” she admits when she’s back to herself and willing her stomach not to rumble and her mind not to accidentally cause those onion rings to show up (that happened once in her apartment, and she’s been concerned that she stole them off of someone’s plate ever since), “I didn’t hear.”

“We’ve got patrol tonight.”

“No,” she groans, rolling her head forward and hitting her forehead against her desk. “No, Halloween night is when all the weird shit happens.”

(Weird shit happens at Emma’s house every night, but the “regular” people of Boston have to be Rick James kind of super freaks on Halloween night compared to Emma on every other night.)

Killian begins moving those damn eyebrows while his lips twitch up into a closed-lip smile as he leans over his desk to be closer to her, his face practically an inch away from hers. “Aye, that’s what makes it fun.”

He pulls back to settle back in his chair and thank heavens for that because she couldn’t breathe for a minute there.

“Fun to you, maybe. Last time I had patrol on Halloween I got hit on by six of the seven dwarves.”

He cocks his head to the side, studying her for a moment before his lips turn up even more and expose the white of his teeth contrasted against the black and red of his scruff.

“Why didn’t the seventh?”

“He was passed out.”

“Sleepy, I presume.”

“Sneezy, ironically enough.”

Killian barks out a laugh, and it’s so contagious that she has to laugh a bit, too, hiding her chuckle under her hands before she turns back to her computer screen to see their patrol route for the night. It’s all residential areas, thank goodness.

“You want to drive or shall I?”

“Swan, I’m driving. You almost crashed the cruiser last week.”

“I did not,” she protests, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail before rising from her chair and adjusting her jeans. The best part about her job is they don’t have a uniform besides their badges, so she can wear jeans every day. So can Killian and damn. He may frustrate her most days, but boy (or very mucha man) can the officer fill out his jeans.

Before their patrol even starts, Killian pulls through Blackbird donuts (at least it’s not black cat donuts) and gets them donuts in the shapes of pumpkins, ghosts, and a witch’s hat (she doesn’t own a hat shaped like that, thank you very much). He’s such a kid sometimes, and the ridiculous grin on his face as orange and black icing gets mixed in with his scruff doesn’t help the crush she most definitely does not have on him.

The fact that his coffee cup says Gomez while hers says Morticia makes her smile match his…creepy, kooky, and altogether spooky.

Instead of arresting creeps like she expected, they end up having to shut down a teenager’s party that night, the neighbors calling over the noise, and when the two of them show up, it’s like the fucking red sea, every single teenager running away as fast as they can so that the only person left is the idiotic boy who threw the party while his parents are out of town.

He’s in one of those ridiculous inflatable dinosaur costumes, and after leaving him with a stern warning (come on, Swan, just this one time, a one-time thing for the kids), she and Killian walk out of the house, holding in their laughter until they’re in the cruiser. That’s when they lose it, both of them dissolving into hysterics so much so that tears are coming out of Emma’s eyes from the way the kid had look paralyzed with fear with the head of the costume off, his body still dressed to look like a dinosaur. She laughs so hard that she feels her fingers spark, and when she sees the little green lights, she immediately stuffs them in the pockets to hide her magic from Killian. He is one of the last people who needs to know about her secret. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him. She does…in a work capacity. She just doesn’t want him to know that she’s a freak. He’d probably freak, and then she’d have to find a new job.

She really likes her job.

Maybe the Salem P.D. would take her.

“Oh my God,” she heaves out, trying to catch her breath with her stomach bent over her lap to hide her hands even more, the sparks still flying out of her fingers no matter how much she wills them away. Why won’t they go away? “This is already better than last year. Did you see the kid dressed as a hot dog in the bushes?”

“Aye, that was quite the big wiener. I imagine it doesn’t match what’s under the costume.”

“Jones,” Emma giggles, and wow she really did just giggle, “you can’t say things like that.”

“Would you rather me say it’s nowhere near what I’ve got under – ”

“Killian,” she gasps, sticking her hand out against his chest to keep him from making another bad innuendo, and that’s when she realizes her mistake, the green sparks turning blue as soon as she touches his chest and she can feel Killian’s gasp the moment he sees them.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

That did not just happen. She did not just expose herself because they were kidding around about a kid in a hot dog suit…and how well endowed Killian may be. But then she gets the courage to look over to Killian, her hand still on the center of his chest, the sparks still flying, and when she looks to his face, his eyes are blown wide and his lips are parted as he stares down at her hand like something has shocked him.

She guesses something has. Both figuratively and literally.

“Emma – ”

“Don’t.”

“Emma.” His voice is shaking the slightest bit, and Killian’s voice doesn’t even shake if he’s held up at gunpoint. “What’s happening?”

She doesn’t answer, instead getting out of the car and walking away, trying to poof herself back to the safety of her apartment, but she can’t. It’s not working. Her magic isn’t working besides these damn green sparks. She needs it to work. She needs out, but her mind is working too fast for her to actually be able to concentrate on poofing away.

She feels something rush through her, and she thinks maybe she’ll finally get out of here, but all that happens is that three plates of onion rings land in front of her. If she wasn’t about to have a meltdown (at least she’s not melting like other witches and/or magical beings) that would be damn funny. But she is about to have a meltdown, her legs suddenly falling out from under her as she collapses to the ground in fear of what’s going to happen now that she’s been unmasked.

“Swan,” Killian calls and suddenly he’s sitting on the ground in front of her like he just fucking poofed there, and that’s totally not cool because that’s what she was trying to do, “hey, love. I need you to look at me.”

She can’t look at him. If she doesn’t look, it isn’t real. Her hands are shaking, and she doesn’t know how to make it stop. She just wants everything to stop because forget fictional horror stories. This is a real one, and it’s not going to end when the film runs out.

“Please go away,” she pleads, even though she knows Killian never listens to her, not when he thinks his way is right.

“I’m not going anywhere,” and yep, that’s what she expected, “because you’re sitting in the middle of a residential neighborhood, and the two of us are currently sitting in a clear bubble while onion rings fall down around us. You’re also my partner, and we don’t leave our partners behind, aye?”

She manages to look up, and sure enough, she’s somehow put them in whatever this bubble thing is, and how does she make the falling onion rings stop? What the hell even is her life? She’s got to calm down. That’s the only way. Before she could contain her magic, it always relied on her emotions. She’s got to control herself. She has to.

So she breathes in, and then she breathes out. She doesn’t know what else to do, especially with Killian staring at her the way he is, and how is she going to explain this to him?

The bubble literally pops, splashing the two of them with soap, and all of the onion rings that were falling suddenly hit the floor, covering the street in fried dough and onions. This would be amazing if her life weren’t about to be over because there’s no way Killian can keep his cool like this for too long. It’s just not possible.

Her body is still shivering, especially now that she’s covered in liquid soap and the wind chill has picked up, but at least she’s not doing anything magical right now, her fingers still slightly sparking green…at least they’re green again. She doesn’t know what he hell that blue stuff was.

“Swan,” Killian nudges, cautiously putting his hands on her shoulders, running his fingers up her neck while he encourages her to tear her gaze away from her hands. He’s going to ask what the hell just happened, and she doesn’t know how to answer. “Swan, I’m going to call in Nolan to take over our patrol, and then you and I are going to back to my apartment to get something to eat, okay? And I promise it’s not going to be onion rings…or a hot dog.”

A watery chuckle passes through her lips as Killian helps her stand from the ground, her legs shaky below her because what the hell is even happening right now? She can’t even control her own body right now, so she follows him without even questioning it, somehow trying to figure out how to erase Killian’s memory.

She can’t do that though.

When Killian places his hand on her lower back, fingers ghosting (she idly wonders if ghosts are real, too) over her jacket, she feels her magic running through her veins and before she can even stop it, she’s poofing away in a cloud of blue smoke.

What the hell?

She lands on her bed, her ass hitting hard against the mattress, and she’s going to feel that in the morning. She’s going to feel all of this in the morning. She can’t believe she tried to transport herself that entire damn time and couldn’t do it until she was trying not to do it anymore. She’d calmed down and Killian was talking to her and going to take her back to his apartment and…oh my God, Killian.

He’s got to be freaking out. Yeah, he seemed pretty calm at first, but she literally disappeared in front of his eyes. He was touching her, and she disappeared. She’s got to call him. She doesn’t know what to say because she’s freaking out, too, but she’s got to do something to make sure Killian doesn’t do something stupid like use the precinct computers to google “what do you do when your partner suddenly develops magical abilities?”

Because that won’t raise any red flags or anything.

Except when she reaches for her phone, it’s not there. Not in her jacket or her jeans or even her bra (every girl has done it, no judgment please), and that’s when she’s hit with the realization that it’s in the patrol car. So great, not only does she have someone running around Boston aware that she’s not normal – one could say paranormal – but she also doesn’t have a phone.

She has a bit of a blonde moment worrying about not getting her phone until the next day when she suddenly remembers that if she can transport herself somewhere, she sure as hell can transport a phone. She swears, sometimes people with magic or abilities or whatever are so dumb. It’s like, why didn’t Voldemort (oops, he who shall not be named) just throw baby Harry Potter out a window if he couldn’t kill him with magic?

So she uses all of her focus to imagine her phone, closes her eyes, and wills it to come to her only for Killian Jones himself to land on her kitchen table, shattering the wood as he and the table crash against the floor and holding her phone in his hand.

So it looks like they probably won’t be tabling this discussion until later…but they definitely won’t be having it at the table.

She’s running through explanations in her mind while Killian recovers from the shock of being transported. She’s decided on saying their donuts were spiked with some kind of drug, and even if it’s a crap excuse, she doesn’t have another way to explain why Killian saw what he saw or suddenly got into her apartment. She can’t tell the truth, can she? That would be crazy.

She really should get up and leave this apartment and then never show up to work again, maybe move to Siberia or something. But he’d somehow find her. She just knows it. He always finds who he’s looking for.

“Bloody hell,” he groans as he tries to stand from his spot in the center of the broken table, and she really should go help him. But he’s standing up on his own, brushing off his jeans, and holding her phone out between the two of them before she even gets the chance. “I believe you were most likely looking for this.”

She reaches out to take the phone because that’s the only thing that seems the slightest bit logical in a situation like this, and when the device is back in her hand, she sees the blood running up and down Killian’s forearm.

It’s a good thing she’s not a vampire. Of that she’s sure.

“You’re hurt.”

“Tis nothing but a scratch, love.”

She rolls her eyes before putting her phone in her back pocket and grabbing his arm. It’s bleeding, but not too badly, and like she’s not even in control of her body anymore (has she ever really been?) she leads him to the kitchen sink and begins running water over the cut. He doesn’t speak the entire time, and she really needs him to say something. It’s making her nervous that he’s not saying anything. Maybe he thinks this is all just a lucid dream. She’s really kind of hoping that this is all a lucid dream.

But then he looks at her with those damn blue eyes, so open and understanding, and she knows that this isn’t a dream. This is real.

Yer a wizard, Emma. And Killian knows it.

(Also, she’s suddenly very aware of the fact that she didn’t get her Hogwarts letter when she was eleven. You know, priorities.)

This feels all too terrifying again, and she can feel her magic spiking through her as her breath hitches and something gets lodged in her throat.

God, she hopes it’s not an onion ring.

She may never eat those again.

What a shame.

Killian seems to sense how uncomfortable she is, and honestly she doesn’t know what’s up with him. If Killian suddenly had magic spurting out of his fingers, she’d be freaking the fuck out, especially because she transported him here and oh my gosh, what if he was driving?

“Were you driving?” Emma blurts out, her voice cracking because this is all just bizarre. “Like, did I cause a ten-car pile up that we’re going to have to lie about tomorrow? Oh God, how would we even cover that up? I’m screwed. I’m so fucking screwed.”

She’s going to cry. She just knows it, the pressure of tears filling behind her eyes, and this whole night is a disaster. How did they get here?

“Shh, Swan,” Killian soothes before wrapping his arms around her, and she’s not sure if the wet thing she feels is water or blood and what even is her life? “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I wasn’t driving. I was actually in your parking garage because, well, you disappeared on me, and I needed to know that you were okay.”

She cries for who knows how long, and she can feel the puffiness of her eyes and the headache that comes with crying blooming behind her temple, and when she realizes they’re on the couch instead of in the kitchen, she thinks maybe Killian can transport things too so that’s why he’s not freaking out.

But then she realizes that she’s just a dumbass because they most definitely simply walked in here.

“So,” Killian mumbles once she’s calmed down, “you don’t have to talk to me about what happened tonight. That seems like it’s a bit of a private matter, and I know that you may look at me as just a partner, but I look at you as a friend. And as a friend, I want you to know that I’m here for you. If not tonight, whenever. And if you tell me I didn’t see anything tonight or I didn’t somehow show up in your apartment, well, I guess I’ll just play it up as Halloween special effects, yeah?”

He’s not lying. That’s another one of her things, and probably the reason she became a cop. She can tell when people are lying, and Killian is about as earnest as can be. He dodges a lot of personal questions from others, but he never lies. Not to her.

“You would do that? For me?”

“I think I’d do about anything for you.”

The words hit her harder than they should have, and she has to keep herself from physically flinching at them. Instead she attempts to smile, and when he smiles back at her, it’s like magic…and not the kind she has.

“Besides,” he marvels, leaning back and looking around her living room, “I’ve already decided that this night must be a dream because Emma Swan has gotten me back into her apartment. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“You’re such a flirt.”

“Well, that’s kind of the point, darling.”

She can feel the heat rising to her cheeks, and she’s a hot mess. She’s a certifiable hot mess, and she needs to change the subject. She thinks she’d rather talk about her magic than have Killian stir up her feelings for him by flirting with her.

“Can we…can we, uh, just watch a movie or something?”

So they do. They watch a movie. Killian tries not to make it obvious, but he takes his time finding something on the guide that has nothing to do with magic. And she’s not sure if it’s because he’s freaked out or if he’s trying not to freak himself out further, but either way she appreciates that they spend the night watching classic black and white movies because it keeps her from thinking too much about what has happened today.

She’s always known that he was a good guy, working as a cop to help keep others safe after the death of his brother, but he’s got to be the best man in the world to not even have one question for her about all of this. She wishes she could read minds (she’s tried) because whatever is going on inside of Killian’s must be fascinating.

She starts to zone out around two in the morning, and Killian nudges her head into his lap while he stretches his feet out on her coffee table, the both of them falling asleep as the screen fades to black.

Things go back to normal between the two of them after Halloween…well, as normal as possible. They walked back into work the next day a little disheveled, Killian wearing the same thing as the night before, something that didn’t go unnoticed by their coworkers. So things go back to normal except for the fact that they are office (or precinct) gossip for the entirety of November…not that she isn’t used to that.

But Killian never mentions Halloween again. He goes on like he had before, teasing her, but also staying appropriate for the job. They patrol together, work cases together, and spend their days complaining about paperwork and how they are tired of being stuck at their desks. It is normal, and that’s what is weird. She knows that he promised not to say anything again if she didn’t want to talk about it, but this is taking it to a new level. Talk about willpower to not ask about Emma’s…powers.

There are a few days where she doesn’t show up to work, her bags packed as she gets ready to run, but something keeps holding her back. She finally feels like she has a home here, even if it is just here in her apartment, nothing special about the white walls and practically empty kitchen (and broken table that Killian had most definitely made a “morning wood” joke about). So when she looked over at her packed bags, all of the sentimental items inside of them instead of in their places around the apartment, it felt off, wrong really. This is her home, and Killian hadn’t even hinted at what happened on Halloween. No one has come after her or tried to get her to be a part of some weird study. She hasn’t been arrested. Nothing weird has happened. Killian is simply Killian, and despite her natural instinct not to trust, she trusts him.

But then something changes, and her entire world is flipped upside down.

Killian kisses her. Well, that’s putting it lightly. Killian pushes her up against the brick wall of their favorite bar and devours her as her hands roam his back, little whimpers emanating from the back of her throat as Killian practically growls when her tongue tangles with his.

They haven’t even had anything to drink, but it’s like the unspoken thing between them broke. He’d flirted with her all night, and she’d done the same, not caring that it was inappropriate for work or that he knows her biggest secret. Hell, she’d been the one to hook her finger into the open v of his shirt and pull him away from the billiards table and into a dark corner of the bar. And who pulls someone into a dark corner of a bar with good intentions in mind?

Well, Killian is verygood at kissing, so maybe she did have good intentions.

Just call her Emma the Good Witch.

Killian’s hands have just snaked their way into the pockets of her jeans, grabbing at her ass while hers are resting on his lower back underneath the black of his leather jacket when one of them speaks for the first time since, you know, they started making out.

“Do you?” Killian questions, and she knows if he wasn’t feeling up her ass he’d be scratching behind his ear because he sounds nervous. She understands. She’s nervous, too.

“I do.”

So that’s how they end up back in her apartment for the first time since Halloween, clothes left in a trail from her front door to his bedroom, and she’s probably never going to get use of that bra again from the way Killian ripped it off of her body.

The whole thing is kind of a blur, skin against skin, the slapping over it mixing with moans and grunts and whispered words of both lust and affection. But she knows one thing for sure, when he orgasm hits her, she feels small tingles of pleasure run up through her body like she never has before, and when her eyes manage to open, green and blue fireworks are bursting above the two of them, and right before they all go away, they turn into all of the colors of the rainbow before fading to red and then finally, black.

If her legs weren’t jelly and Killian hadn’t just fucked her brains out, she’d probably be both impressed and concerned by that.

She doesn’t run. She knows that she can’t now. Hell, she doesn’t even have the urge to. She had sex with him because she wanted to, and she will not run away because she doesn’t know what’s going to happen with two of them. Killian has known about her biggest secret for forty-two days now, and he hasn’t told a soul. She doesn’t know how she knows that, but she does. She knows he kept his promise.

“So I think we need to talk,” he whispers against her neck later before releasing her waist and sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling around his hips so that she can see the expanse of dark hair that covers his chest, “because I thought that thing about seeing fireworks after a damn good orgasm was just a myth, but you, Emma Swan, have made that a reality.”

Such. A. Flirt.

They both dissolve into a fit of laughter, and Killian’s laugh is so infectious that she has to pull him down so that she can kiss him again. He tastes like the coke he was drinking at the bar and a little bit like her. He pulls back and returns to his sitting position while she stays reclined on the mattress.

“So are we talking about my skills between the sheets or the elephant in the room?”

“Well, the swan in the room really.” She scrunches her nose and tosses a pillow at him that he catches with incredible ease. Damn the man. “But I’d mostly like to talk about you, Emma. Because I’ve always known you weren’t just a normal girl, but this magic thing is something else.”

She doesn’t know why she’s shocked when he says the word magic, but she is. Mostly she’s just flattered by the words that are rolling off of his tongue because he makes her heart flutter, her toes curl, and her fingers spark.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?”

“No, love, I think that may be you.”

She feels her cheeks flush, and it has nothing to do with the afterglow of sex. He’s flirting with her while trying to get her to talk about something she’s literally never talked about with anyone…unless you count Charlie, the nonverbal orange cat.

Emma takes a breath before sitting up in bed, too, and when she shivers, Killian hands her the sweater he was wearing at the bar that somehow made it all the way to the bedroom, the warm wool hanging off of her shoulder while she garners up the courage to talk to him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Go.

So she tells him. She tells him everything, the words spewing out like she can’t stop them, and he doesn’t run away. He doesn’t look scared. It’s almost like he’s looking at her with adoration. He doesn’t interrupt, even when she has to take a break to get through a particularly rough part of her childhood or learning about her powers. He just listens. He does hold her hand when things get a little rough, and while she feels the sparks move through her, they don’t shoot out of her hands.

She wonders if he can feel them, too.

She gets through all of it before Killian asks any questions, and he surprisingly doesn’t ask a lot, just simple things like what she can do and what she can’t. She tells him about the blow dryer thing, and he laughs so hard that his entire chest heaves and tears stream from his eyes.

“I have to ask, darling,” he begins when it has to be four in the morning at this point, “when your sparks first appeared on Halloween, they were green. And then when you touched me they turned blue. And then you know,” he motions between the two of them, “when we came together…literally…the colors combined and then changed into such a myriad of colors. Has that – has that ever happened before?”

“No.” She’s twisting her hair between her fingers, and that’s going to be hell to untangle later from the way Killian’s hands have run through it today. “They’ve never been anything but green before. I don’t know why they changed.”

“They’re the color of your eyes, love. Think about it.”

She gets it almost immediately, and she doesn’t know how to feel about this. She makes her fingers spark with her magic, and sure enough they’re green, but when she touches Killian’s forearm, they’re blue…the same blue of his eyes.

Holy shit.

But why the changing of colors after that? Does that…does that mean something?

“I think your magic likes me, love,” Killian smirks, cocky smile on his face like he just got laid.

Well, he did.

“I think I like you.”

She can’t believe she says it, but she does.

“Yeah? I’m a fan of every part of you, my darling little magical being.”

It’s only later that he asks, “If you wiggle your nose, does something happen?”

She scrunches her nose in response to this, and Killian immediately leans forward to kiss it, biting lightly at the skin before falling back against the bed and bringing her with him.

“You have witchcraft in your lips, my love,” Killian whispers to her the next Halloween as they sit on the floor of their apartment eating onion rings and surrounded by a bubble that has nothing to do with Emma’s magic.

#magical rings and mystical donuts #captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #halloween fic

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lyssismagical · 6 years ago

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For the request thingy, Peter failed a test (somehow) and he feels shitty but Tony comforts him. Idk I just need IronDad fluff Also you're an amazing writer, and all your stories are so good like every time you update I stop whatever I'm doing and read it

Thank you so much!! Hope this suffices!

The red ink glared back at him like it was going to jump out of the page and murder him on the spot. 42% on their Calculus test.

Granted, it wasn’t technically his fault. When they did the test, he’d been sleep-deprived after four days of never-ending patrols on top of homework, training with the Avengers, and Lab nights with Tony. Plus, he hadn’t had the time to eat breakfast, so he was struggling to keep his rumbling stomach under control.

It wasn’t really his fault he failed the test, but if he had just studied a little longer or he had ignored the bank robbery and left it to the police. If he had just tried harder, he would’ve passed. He knows calculus. He’s good at calculus. But after this test, his grade will drop to an 80, dropping his average down from 96 to 89. He’d be a failure.

How could Tony Stark’s personal intern have an average of less than 90?

“You’re overreacting, man,” Ned says, hiding his perfect test score inside his binder as they walk out of class.

“Says you. I failed a math test, Ned. May and Tony are going to kill me for this,” Peter groans. He knows he’s overreacting. He knows Ned’s right. But he doesn’t care. It’s been a long week, even longer than the week before his calculus test, and his grades are suffering for it.

Juggling a STEM school, Academic Decathlon, Lab Nights with Tony, Spider-Man, and helping May around the house, isn’t as easy as it used to be now that they’re nearing the end of the semester. Only one more month and teacher’s are getting strict. Plus, the crime rate escalates every year around the holidays.

“You’re acting like a drama queen, Parker,” MJ says, walking a few paces behind them like she still doesn’t want to be seen by them. “You have the highest GPA in the school. One test grade isn’t going to kill you.”

Peter’s thinking it might.

He finds himself sitting on a rooftop in the city after Karen stops reporting crimes to him. For once, Queens is quiet.

Peter isn’t as lucky.

His head won’t stop screaming about how much of a failure he is. He can’t get the number out of his head. 42%.

“Incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen informs sweetly.

“Accept it,” Peter sighs, kicking his feet childishly over the edge of the rooftop. “Hey, Mister Stark.”

“I’ve just gotten back from my long week of meetings in the UK and went to check your suit usage from the week. Turns out, the Spider-Baby has been out until four in the morning almost every night. I say almost because two nights ago, you stayed out will six.”

Failure, echoes in his head. Mister Stark knows it.

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmurs, pushing down the bubble of anger that swells in his chest. He’s tired of feeling so overwhelmed. He’s tired of feeling tired.

“Don’t be sorry, kiddo,” Tony’s quick to say. He sounds tired too. “You wanna swing by the tower? Haven’t seen you in a week and I never thought I’d say this, but I’m starting to miss Disney movies.”

Peter can’t help the smile, but it’s gone almost as quick as it came.

“I have to tell you something first,” he blurts. He doesn’t want to go all the way to the tower just to have Tony find out about his failure and have to come all the way back out.

Peter knows Tony’s wearing his signature sad smile just by his tone of voice.

“You can tell me anything, kiddie.”

“I failed my calculus test.” Even saying it out loud is enough for the tears to well up in Peter’s eyes. Tony’s going to take the suit and yell at him and tell him never to go back to the tower again. Because he’s a failure. He’s stupid and a failure. Why would anyone want to spend time with him?

There’s a long stretch of silence, filled with the sounds of crickets and distance traffic.

Before Tony goes, “Oh, kid.” In the most sympathetic voice Peter’s ever heard.

“I’m sorry,” Peter cries, breaking underneath the sympathy. “I’m- I’m a failure. I’m so sorry. You can- You can take my suit, I understand. I should’ve- I should’ve tried harder.”

“Come to the tower, Underoos. We’ll talk when I can actually see you in person. I don’t like listening to you cry over the phone when I can’t comfort you,” Tony says. “But be careful. I don’t want you slipping and falling.”

Peter doesn’t understand. Is it a cruel joke? Make him go to the tower just to Tony can humiliate him further in person?

But he does as told.

He swings his way to the tower and slides through the specially made Spider-Man entrance into the lab.

Tony’s sitting on the couch, head in his hands. There’s a cardboard box of papers in front of him.

“Mister Stark?” Peter calls anxiously. His tears have dried up, but his voice is still hoarse and thick with emotion.

“Come sit, Pete.” Tony lifts his head and pats the spot next to him on the old dark blue couch. “Obviously, we have to talk.”

“I’m so sorry, Mister Stark! I just- I’m as disappointed in me as you are. I understand if you don’t want to have Lab Nights anymore or if you’re going to take the suit or-”

Tony pulls Peter into his side, effectively cutting off Peter’s rambling.

“Everyone has bad days, kid. Everyone fails a test at least once,” the billionaire explains, patting the edge of the cardboard box. “I found my high school tests my father kept. The ones on top are the ones I failed the worst.”

There’s everything from Physics to Spanish to Trigonometry in the box. And there’s everything from near passes like Peter’s 42 to one’s where he managed to get every question wrong.

“Nobody’s perfect, Pete. Not even me. Most of the time, these were after strings of bad days where I was tired and unwell both mentally and physically. Sometimes I tried to do them while totally wasted. Everyone makes mistakes, but, and this is the important part, I’m not going to kick you out or take your suit. And I’m certainly not going to be disappointed in you.”

“But my average is dropping to-” Peter tries to argue, pulling away from where he’d been buried in Tony’s sweatshirt.

“I don’t care,” Tony says, shaking his head. His eyes are shining with pride, something Peter worried he’d never get to see again. “In my Junior year, first semester, I had a 23 average because I didn’t show up to my classes and didn’t do my work. I can one-up you on failures any day, Pete. You’re trying your best and that’s all I could ask of you.”

The teenager’s shoulders finally slump in acceptance and he falls heavier against Tony’s chest, sniffling into the fabric of his old sweatshirt. One of Tony’s arms wrap around his shoulders in response, the other shifting to run a steady path through his messy curls.

“You need to remember to take breaks, okay?” Tony continues. “You’re juggling a lot and I want you to remember that Queens can take care of itself without Spider-Man, okay?”

“Shh,” Peter slurs in response. “’M sleeping.”

Tony laughs quietly, shifting to make sure Peter’s secure and comfortable against his side. “Okay, Spider-Baby. Get some sleep. I’ll let May know you’re here.”

“Night, Mis’r S’rk,” Peter murmurs, curling a hand into the fabric of Tony’s sweatshirt like a child would.

“Night, kiddo. I’m so proud of you. No matter what.”

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vanvroom · 6 years ago

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* : ･ﾟ･✧･ a glitch ･✧･ﾟ･ : *

a closed thread; vanellope learns that she can teleport. well, she thinks.

tw: anxiety, bullying, insecurity

it was a thursday, so vanellope was at the track. well, it didn’t matter what day of the week it was considering that’s where just about anyone could find her at any given hour - but it was thursday. one that the brunette would absolutely never be able to forget.

corona was notorious for its temperate climate, which was why it was strange that she had noticed a few raindrops that fell from the dark clouds, which painted the sky above the track, and landed right onto her windshield. she had been testing out some new modifications she had made to one of her mustang racers when she hauled herself out of the driver’s side window, and that’s when she felt it. splat. the drop dribbled down her arm and in a huff she cursed the sky, letting it know that “this stupid rain is really fucking up my test drive!”. little did she know, she’d soon be thankful for the quick shower on an otherwise sunny day.

the girl was moderately annoyed, made evident by the way she tossed her black leather gloves against the pavement beside her. she had already waited a month for all the right parts to come in, so really all of her patience had already been exhausted and now all she wanted to do was mess around with her racer and test out the modified engine. but vanellope was a seasoned driver, and even she abided by certain safety regulations and ‘rules of thumb’ - one of which, don’t go speeding off at a hundred plus miles an hour when it’s raining and you’re not yet sure the car is even stable enough to handle that. so she sat back against the bench in the covered pit, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for the rain to stop drizzling. but it didn’t, for awhile, and it just picked up and that intensified all annoyance that was coursing through her veins. she tapped her foot along to the rhythm of the rain hitting the canvas roof above her head, but jumped, squeezing her eyes shut, when she heard the unexpected rumble of thunder.

when she opened her eyes again, she was blinded by the sun, and landed straight on her ass as she no longer had a bench to lean against and support her weight. “what the fuck -” vanellope spat, covering her eyes with one hand while the other was firm against the grass, pushing herself back up onto her feet. it took her a few seconds to adjust to her surroundings, but she obviously knew that she wasn’t still stuck in the drizzling pit of her race track. “how ...” she was confused, convinced that she must be dreaming, that she fell asleep waiting for the rain to pass and this was all some weird and confusing dream ... but it wasn’t.

no, nothing about this felt like a dream. she recognized the spindle tattoo and piercing shop that was right across the street from her way too well. she could smell the food they were whipping up in the royal banquet buffet. no, this was real, and van made sure to pinch herself hard just for that extra assurance and “ow! fuck.” yup, it hurt. this was real. very, very real.

“okay, okay, so i just fucking ... maybe i got drunk and just ... ended up here, somehow, in the middle of the day ...” vanellope probably looked insane, talking to herself as she walked over to sit against a bench. she was trying to figure all of this out, but day drinking? instead of test driving a new toy? no, that didn’t sound like vanellope at all. that couldn’t have been ... how did she get here? that’s when she pressed her elbows into her knees, head cradled between her palms, and she closed her eyes again before letting out a sigh.

yet again ... when she opened her eyes, she was at least sitting this time. no falling on her ass. but she had landed in one of the stools at gatson’s tavern, the lighting dim and once more she found herself adjusting to her surroundings ... and that’s when she nearly lost it. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding -” she started raising her voice, and given the odd looks from the strangers surrounding her were aimed at vanellope’s direction, she took a deep breath again. “not closing my eyes this time, no fucking way.” she grumbled, slamming a first against the counter in front of her. at least she looked too gruff to even warrant customer service - because the last thing vanellope could even think about doing right now was talking to someone else. no way, whatever the hell was going on with her ... it was new, and strange, but oddly enough it felt normal.

something unexplainable and fucking weird? yeah, that sounded like vanellope. or at least, that’s what vanellope thought was her ‘normal’. that’s what everyone else said was her ‘normal’. she was weird, unexplainable, unlike everyone else in all of the worst ways ... undesirable. she didn’t fucking want whatever THIS was. she didn’t want to just close her eyes and poof, end up in another part of the island without any warning, any idea of where she’d be, any explanation for anyone who saw her. “oh fucking shit ...” she grumbled, now freaking out wondering if anyone say her ... “teleport?” was that what this was? it felt like it. at least, this is what she imagined it would feel like after reading all of those comic books as a kid. she did always like to say that whenever she’d get into a car, it was like she could teleport ... she’d sit in the driver’s seat and her body would just know where to go ... by the time she was at her destination, it was like she just teleported there, no thought involved.

no, no, that was too fucking weird. she couldn’t be that much of a freak ... could she? she could. she could be that much of a freak. after all, that’s what everyone’s told her most of her life. she was weird, unlike everyone else, an absolute freak of nature that no one else wanted to be friends with. a glitch in the system ... someone who wasn’t supposed to be here but was. and she never belonged, not anywhere, really. not with her parents, not with her foster home, not in school. maybe the racetrack, that was maybe the only place she belonged, but even still ... she had worked so hard to ignore all of the rumors, all of those intrusive, damaging thoughts, all of the words spat at her from bullies. she just kept telling herself they had no idea what they were talking about but ...

“they were right. everyone’s always said i was a mistake, that i wasn’t even supposed to exist, what did i expect ... of course it’s true, i’m a glitch. i’m a fucking glitch and everyone else was right.” she whispered, to herself, sitting in a barstool at gaston’s tavern of all damn places having the worst realization of her life. the blood coursing through her veins felt red hot, her pulse raised, and chest heaved as she took a few breaths. she was on the verge of tears, so close, but never did a single one fall. she wasn’t going to let anyone see her shaken like this, and instead flagged over the bartender for a pint because damn she was gonna fucking need it. and she was gonna need a ride home, because there was no way she was gonna be able to figure out how to control whatever the hell she did to make her jump from one part of the island to the other. but in that moment, that didn’t matter. the only word that kept running through her head was: glitch.

eventually she’d come to realize that there’s something really cool, really unique, about being ‘a gitch’, but for today, that kind of perspective wasn’t even in sight.

#+ ( closed thread * . )#+ ( biography * . )#anxiety tw #bullying tw #insecurity tw #JUST in case !!! it's not too heavy but ...#i'm crying & emo

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durenjtmusings · 8 years ago

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10 Baby Facts for SPN Fic Authors

[I swear this is not a rant - it ISN’T. Honest.]

It is actually kind of cool to realize that you possess specialty knowledge that may be of use to others. Stuff that you didn’t really KNOW you knew, until, of course, you are reading along in a fic and something the author describes (or the character says) brings your brain to a screeching halt. “That’s not right – it can’t possibly happen that way…” And then you go and do actual research to back up your gut knowledge. This little FAQ is the result of one such realization.

My dad fixed antique and classic cars for a living from 1964 – 1978, owning his own showroom for 3 years near the end of that time. Born in 1966, I grew up playing in old cars, hiding in floorboards and exploring them to my heart’s content. Our family car for several years was a 1966 Thunderbird, but when dad went to car shows, we rode in whatever he wanted to show off. I’ve been in rumble seats, hard top convertibles, cars with windshields that laid down flat, and cars with no roof, doors, or walls of any kind. My 1st car was a fully restored 1966 mustang. Without really realizing it, I soaked up a LOT of inherent understandings about older cars. The information below is based in that knowledge, backed up with some internet research.

The following is true about Baby (the character in SPN, not necessarily the actual cars that play her):

1) Compared to most modern sedans, Baby is BIG. Like REALLY BIG. She is 17 and ¾ feet long (5.4 meters) and 7 feet 8 inches wide (2.03 meters). Allowing for door thickness on either side and the gaps between doors and bench seat, I’m betting the front seat is a little over 5 feet wide. Given basic geometry and human skeletal limitations, this means it is not possible for the passenger to have their head resting against the passenger door/window AND place their hand on the driver’s thigh. If the passenger is in this position, the driver can, at best, entwine fingers with the passenger’s outstretched hand. That’s IT (even with Sam’s monkey arms). Sitting up straight, yes. Slumped over, no. On the plus side, this is why the guys can, in fact, get some sleep in her (and have fun in the back seat).

2) Despite how big Baby is, she is kinda short. Baby is only 54 inches high (4’6” or 138 cm). INSIDE the car, she is slightly less than 4 feet tall total. This means that the following actions WILL make you bump your head (or butt or hands or feet) on the ceiling unless you are very very slow and careful: climbing over the back seat, straddling someone’s lap, taking off your pants or t-shirt (unless nearly lying down in the seat), and lunging across the front bench seat to attack someone bodily. And you will look graceless doing it. [Ahem, trust me on these, I KNOW.] Additional negative modifiers for Sam due to height.

More below the cut.

3) Baby HATES crappy roads. Her big body has an all steel frame and body panels plus a very large engine system. Baby is HEAVY. She weighs a *minimum* of 3704 lbs empty. With equipment and the boys in her, she is over 2 tons. Oh and Baby is LOW. Her ground clearance is slightly less than 6 inches. This means an 8 inch deep pot hole (like the one in episode 11.01, above) can bottom out her axle and stop her in her tracks. She SUCKS on rough terrain. Oh, and getting her OUT of said hole? Will require a JACK and a lot of swearing. (Baby is rear-wheel drive – her front wheels aren’t getting her out of anywhere). There was NO way the boys lifted her out of that hole in that episode (especially since they showed up in the next scene NOT covered in mud).

4) Baby is, in fact, good to have in a wreck. That all steel frame means she can practically bounce off of most modern cars. You’ll note they use large SUVs and tractor trailer trucks to hurt her. The fact that she makes it through the bumps and bruises she does is relatively accurate. In addition, Baby’s model had shoulder* seat belts in the front driver and passenger sides ‘standard’. Now this doesn’t mean the guys have to wear ‘em, or that Dean/John didn’t take ‘em out, but they were a standard safety measure. If you are wearing them, however, all movement described in 1 & 2 above is even MORE limited/complicated. Wearing them should keep you from getting thrown out of the car in an accident. Without them - you are the rock in a slingshot, out you go.

5) Baby’s model ONLY had a full, flat, smooth bench seat all the way across (front and back). She should NOT be drawn or described with a split front seat or (shudder) bucket seats of any kind. Sliding across this kind of seat from one side to the other was, in fact, a fun game for us as kids. Again, this makes her relatively ideal for napping…kinda. The backwards tilting angle is weird to sleep on and the seat itself is narrow front to back. it isn’t ideal, just possible.

6) Baby’s gear shift is on the steering column (and she is an automatic). While there is a hump in the floor boards for the transmission, there is exactly zero to climb over for anyone who might be…shifting positions for activities in the front seat. In fact, given #1 above, it is possible for three grown adults to sit in the front seat, although the floor bump makes the middle person uncomfortable (unless they are short). Leg crowding and hip/elbow bumping will occur, but it can be done without too much discomfort. This means Baby can seat 6 with only mild discomfort (and in fact, has seat belts for 6 standard - see #4 above). You could do 7 if the four in the back are small (or someone lays across the other three – What? I’ve done it). OK, if later season Sam is in the front seat, the person in the middle better be Claire or Jody.

7) Baby, as portrayed on screen, has lots of “optional” features. Most likely, John and Dean have been regularly ‘upgrading her’ over the years. For example she has “all vinyl interior” (standard was cloth and vinyl combined). The extra headlamps in early seasons are another example (and of course the trunk modifications). The ‘67 impala came with a wide variety of transmission and engine options. Even before the Season 1 finale, Baby likely had a “non-standard” engine system. Who KNOWS how powerful a system Dean put into Baby in the FIRST reconstruction (because, trust me, she needed a new engine) and what he might have done since then.

8) Baby is OLD school rock and roll. *NEW* for the 1967 model year was the option of a tape deck – an 8 track tape deck. Dean’s ‘compact cassette’ deck is an after-market modification, likely sometime after John bought it in 1973. The compact cassette player is not “authentic” or “original” for Baby. (Although Dean may say or think so, he, in fact, knows better.) John likely listened to 8-tracks or to just the radio if the previous owner hadn’t put an 8-track in her.

9) Baby is EXPENSIVE to maintain: > At best, Baby gets between 10-15 miles to the gallon (4.26-6.19 kpl), depending on the size of the engine Dean put in her most recently (and the tweaks he has made to it). As a corollary, Baby’s top speed is between 95-130 mph (152-209 kph) also depending on the engine. Top speed is inversely proportional to gas mileage. The bigger/faster engine Dean uses, the crappier the gas mileage. > Baby’s engines – ALL of them – are designed for ‘leaded’ gas. To get the most out of her, Dean has to regularly give her additives. > At this point, parts for Baby are either original ‘leftovers’ from the manufacturer (and very expensive) or from junk yards (used) or from online specialty stores (or Dean machines them himself). Glass, in particular, is going to be a special order. This means that ANY fic you write can include gripes about the COST of Baby (or the challenges in finding parts for her). Really, If I was FBI/enemy hunting Dean, I’d haunt the 67 Impala online groups - which is where Dean’d go to find parts for cheap. They’d all know each other – classic car enthusiasts are a small close-knit community.

10) Baby needs LOTS of regular maintenance. The mileage on baby, at this point, is almost a moot number. She’s had at least 2 new engines and one new transmission. She’s had just all sorts of parts replaced. Dean can tell you what’s still truly original, but for the most part, consider only the mileage you see from seasons 2 on when considering wear and tear. That said, Baby is FIFTY years old this season. Yet, as depicted, her interior and her engine are PRISTINE. Dean must spend TONS of time regularly detailing her inside and out. I mean LOOK at the carpets in the image for #5-6 above. There is NO MUD or dirt anywhere. The dashboard isn’t all faded or cracked from sunlight, and the vinyl hasn’t any rips or stains. Now, granted, likely most of that was all replaced with as new as Dean could get in 2006, but still, it takes a LOT of work to keep a car looking like that even if you keep her under a cover in the garage all the time. Baby is an actively working classic car, with the added bonus of blood and other nasty goo all over her on a regular basis. Any time a fic writer needs something for Dean to do, he can be working on Baby. There is ALWAYS something for him to be doing. [Heaven forefend he lube the damn door hinges.]

Bonus Facts: Baby is HOT. No, I mean it, all black vinyl seats and steering wheel sitting all day in the sun – is scorching hot. Like “I can’t touch anything without yelping” hot. The 67 Impala had air conditioning as an option, so the guys likely have it, but it will still take a while to cool her down in the summer – especially in the southwest. She will likely also take a bit of time to heat up from dead cold in the winter – especially for those in the back seat. And she isn’t air tight or well insulated, she’ll have subtle drafts. Which also means she’ll fill up fast and sink like a rock if she goes into water (2 TONS – see #3 above).

I hope this is helpful to SPN fic writers. I certainly feel better for writing it - this was fun! :)

*Updated - *brackets* for shoulder seat belts were standard - the belts themselves were an option.

#Baby is my hero #spn baby #impala #impala meta #67 impala meta #just the facts #spn fanfic writer support

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anxioustealnotebook-blog · 7 years ago

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{A Night You’ll Never Remember} Steve Harrington||Soulmate AU

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Reader

Summary: Soulmate AU where you can't see colour until you kiss your soulmate for the first time. Reader wakes up the morning after a party and realizes she can see colour. The only problem is she can't seem to remember who she kissed. Oops.

Warning: None except some swearing.

A/N: Finally finished my first one shot for Tumblr. It took longer than expected.

Needless to say, you had heard the story of how your parents had found each other a million times.

They had both just turned eighteen and were at their local dance hall. They both went to the same school, but neither of them had ever talked to one another. But on that night, your father was feeling brave and decided to tap your mother on the shoulder and ask her to dance. Your mother, also feeling brave, said yes and they stayed together for the rest of the night. Both of them knew they were meant for each other. At the end of the night your father finally worked up enough courage and kissed your mother. According to your mother, she felt a tingling feeling on her lips that she still remembers to this day. After the kiss, they pulled away and saw the world light up with colour.

"It's the most amazing feeling in the world, kissing you soulmate for your first time," your mother would always finish.

Unsurprisingly, your brother and sister lapped up the story every time, and so did you, in the beginning.

It was a simple, romantic story and you were happy for your parents. But you knew about fifteen other kids your age who's parents had the exact same story. You wanted something more exciting.

When you could finally see colour, it had to be special.

* * *

"Why...?" You groaned into your pillow. You had only been awake for a few moments and you hadn't even taken taken your head off the pillow yet, but you could already feel a headache coming on.

It wasn't surprising really, you had a tendency to go a tiny bit overboard with the alcohol at parties. You would think only being able to see in black, grey and white would help the situation, but you were certain that your curtains were probably wide open. Drunk-you never gave any real thought to small unimportant things like that. With your luck it would probably be a 'lovely' sunny day that would cause your head to hurt even more.

You groaned again and rolled onto your side, as 'trying to get back to sleep with face engulfed by pillow' was not the way to go. You pulled the duvet to eye level in the hope of falling asleep again.

This was the plan for about a second, until you opened your eyes to check the time and you realized something was very off about your duvet. There was no way you were seeing what you thought you were seeing. You had to be dreaming. You blinked a few time, but it was still there. The duvet wasn't it's usual dull grey! It took a minute of just staring at the new exciting colour for your brain to wake up and catch on to what was actually going on.

"Blue!" You gasped, reading the small word sewn into the top right corner of the duvet. Sitting upright, you did your best to ignore the dizziness and blinding bright sunshine coming from your window. Instead you focused on the room around you. You felt like a kid in a candy store as you stared in awe at the strange but beautiful new colours surrounding you.

Despite the fuzz clouding your thoughts, you recalled the colours your parents had described to you and you whispered each of them.

After that, you got out of bed and ventured over to the window. A shriek of excitement escaped your lips. The view from your bedroom window looked so much more special. You gripped the windowsill tightly, silently hoping it wouldn't melt away with the rest of the colour and you wouldn't end up waking up to find it was all a dream.

Thankfully, it didn't.

Next, you ran back across your room to pick up the phone and immediately dial your best friend's number. She was definitely still asleep and probably hungover too, but whatever.

"Grace! You won't believe what just happened!" You exclaimed excitedly.

"W...what?" Grace asked groggily. You didn't miss the annoyance in her voice either.

"I can see COLOUR! Actual colour. Like not black or grey or whatever-" you were beginning to ramble. Thankfully Grace had the good grace to cut you off.

"Wow...that's cool. Are they as amazing as people say?"

"Yes!" you seemed to have forgotten about the hangover. I think blue is my favourite, or maybe green. Oh you should see red. Blue and pink look so pretty together-"

"No! I mean how was the kiss? Who's the lucky guy? I seem to remember you disappearing halfway through the party and you didn't show up till the end. I definitely don't remember you meeting your soulmate..." Grace was going off into her own tangent.

Meanwhile you felt yourself sinking back into reality. You recalled dancing with Grace and some of your other friends and bright flashing lights and alcohol (lots of alcohol). You briefly remembered a tingly feeling on your lips (which must have been the kiss). But no soulmate.

"Oh fuck, I don't know," realization dawned on you like a brick wall.

* * *

It was Monday afternoon and you were sitting in history with Grace by your side.

The whole day had just dragged by mercilessly. Every damn moment was spent analyzing everything you could piece together from the party and looking from left to right in search of someone who stood out. Or someone who might be staring at you from the corner of their eye.

No luck so far.

It didn't help that you were still getting used to the colours around you. They were distracting and you felt they were beginning to taunt you, the way they could make anyone stand out or hide in the crowd.

Someone else who was not helping was Grace. She had made it her mission to find your soulmate. In fact you were convinced she was a pen and paper away from putting up a 'missing person's sign' up on the notice board asking anyone with information to come forward.

All day she was pointing at people and asking if you felt any attraction towards them. The answer was always no.

"Are you sure you don't remember anything else?" She leaned over and whispered in your ear when the teacher's back was turned.

"Yes!" You whisper shouted.

"Oh what if its Billy Hargrove? He was at the party, wasn't he? Plus he's kind of cute."

"You're not serious are you? I wouldn't go near Billy with a steel pole," you hissed at Grace who was trying her best to bite back a laugh.

"I was joking."

"Seriously, the day that Billy is my soulmate is the day that the universe has truly given up," you rolled your eyes, "did you even see what he did to Steve Harrington the other day? He is not a good guy."

You went back to trying to concentrate on what the teacher was saying, before glancing one more time at Grace who looked like she had just gotten an idea. You wanted to ask her what it was but it would have to wait because the teacher was glaring at the both of you.

* * *

You sighed loudly from the safety of the school door. Of course Grace had to bring her little brother to soccer practice on the other side of Hawkins. She was your ride home that evening as your car was non-existent. She just drove off. All of your other friends were nowhere to be found.

You honestly wouldn't mind as much as you did if it wasn't pouring rain. After kicking the school wall for good luck (definitely not out of spite), you set off down the road as fast as you could.

The horrible weather seemed to drag up feelings of hopelessness within you. You would never find your soulmate at this rate. Whatever you had drunk had drowned your chances of ever finding your soulmate. And while you did believe that a person could lead a perfectly happy and fulfilling life without a soulmate or a partner of any kind, you did feel pretty bad about the whole situation. There would be no great exciting story to tell. Just a wistful tale of what could have been.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the rumble of a car pulling up next to you. However, the loud beep of a car horn did catch your attention. Startled, you turned and peered through the fogged up car window. Steve Harrington of all people stared back at you.

"You want a ride home?" He smiled sheepishly as he rolled down the window. Not giving it a second thought you nodded enthusiastically and jumped in. The instant warmth was more than welcoming.

"Uh...hey Steve," you gave him a small smile, which he returned.

Now settled, you realized you hadn't actually talked to Steve in a very long time. You used to be good friends when you were younger and you even had a small crush on him. But didn't everyone?

These days you didn't have much to do with him, which was fine. But while the minutes ticked by you really wished you could find something to say that would break the awkward silence.

"Do you know where I live?" you questioned him

"Yeah Grace told me-" you quickly looked at him, confused. When had he been talking to Grace? Had you heard that right?

Now that you were facing him, you realized how nervous he looked. His eyes were glued to the road in front of him and his hands were clamped tightly to the steering wheel.

"Are...you alright Steve?" You asked, slightly worried.

"Um...yeah, kind of. I need to talk to you about something important."

"Okay?" In response he pulled the car over to the side of the road. You were more confused than ever. He was still staring at the road, not saying anything.

"Steve this is weird. I'm grateful for the ride home, but-?" You stared at him expectantly and he finally turned to face you. You gasped as you realized his eyes were brown and not grey. People who had found their soulmate didn't have grey eyes. You were sure Grace had told you that Nancy wasn't Steve's soulmate though. And to your knowledge, he wasn't with anyone at the moment.

"Oh...I forgot about the eye thing. Yours are really pretty by the way. This probably gives the game away, huh?"

"What game?"

Steve was the one looking expectantly at you now. You were obviously missing something huge. But the way Steve was staring at you and when had his face gotten so close to yours? What were you missing?

"I'm you soulmate," the sheepish smile was back.

Your jaw dropped at your own stupidity. It was all very painfully obvious.

"Oh, wow," you muttered, at a loss for words, "um...are you sure?"

"Yes Y/N I'm very sure," he finally relaxed and gave you a much more Steve-like grin, "I was going to talk to you today about it but then I overheard someone say that you couldn't remember who your soulmate was and I got worried that maybe you just didn't want me to be your soulmate."

"What no," you shook your head, "of course not. I honestly couldn't remember half of what happened at that party."

"Oh I know because later Grace, your friend, came running up to me and told me everything. And I mean everything. She set this up and all."

"Of course she did," you rolled your eyes. No wonder she had that look on her face during history.

"Do you remember anything now?" "No, sorry, but I don't think that matters now anyway. But...I do need you to prove to me you're not lying to me."

"How-" You cut him off by closing the gap between the two of you. You kissed him softly. And he kissed back. The sound of the rain hitting the car was drowned out by the familiar warm electric feeling you were beginning to feel on your lips.

After a minute you pulled back and grinned.

"So does that prove I'm not lying to you?" Steve grinned knowingly.

"Yes Steve Harrington. I think I can safely say you are my soulmate."

"Finally," he rolled his eyes and kissed you again.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

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getseriouser · 7 years ago

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20 THOUGHTS: Sorry Harry, pretty sure Rachel already moved to Seattle and married Mike???

AND we thought we had nothing to offer on the Royal Wedding.

As far as we can tell it was a joyous occasion to celebrate one single family’s reign over not just the UK but anyone still under the monarchical Commonwealth heavily improved by the inclusion of a batty Bishop from Chicago who added real flavour to the pomp and circumstance.

Bless him.

Otherwise, in the real world, one club from Tullamarine tagged themselves out of the Royal Rumble and one from Royal Parade tagged themselves in...

And yes, I know, wresting fans, you don’t tag yourself out of a Royal Rumble, but it meant we could use the word royal another couple of times, given the week’s events, oh never mind, onto the week in footy:

1. Let us start with the Bombers. Saw it mid-week from John Worsfold in his demeanour and it carried on into the game on the weekend. There appears to be the emergence of a real edginess to the team. It’s almost as if they’ve flicked a switch, finally moving on from this ‘recovery’ mode, a forced developmental phase, feeling the effects of those year-long suspensions. It felt like last week and then in their win over Geelong they became a serious side that no longer had any excuse or hangover from that period where expectations were lowered – now it’s about being taken seriously with no lingering effects of that time. Game faces. Desire, want, effort. Their coach is no longer helping a club out of travesty and is now demanding ruthless excellence. Let’s see where they go now.

2. Also, their form line shows great promise. In that whilst they have lowered their colours in their loss to Carlton, on Anzac Day, etc., they have shown to be capable of competing with the better sides. Only West Coast, Port Adelaide and Essendon have three wins against teams currently in the top eight. That’s something to build from. Their six losses to date will hurt their chances but on paper this is a list good enough to make finals and win one, their task will be to try and get there from this far back.

3. A small exercise to gauge form and credibility from nine rounds in, given some teams have had easier draws, or some teams have cashed in accruing wins against the bottom clubs: if we attribute 18 points for every team who has beaten West Coast right down to 1 point for defeating Carlton, and tally it all up, it makes for interesting reading. Even though Melbourne has won twice as many games as Essendon, because the Bombers have defeated the Crows, Power and Cats, they would be higher on this form ladder; the Dees yes have defeated the Roos but aside from that their other wins are against the current bottom five. Sydney would leapfrog Richmond because they defeated the Eagles in Perth, the Tigers got spanked at their attempt. Everyone else is largely where they sit on the real ladder give or take a few spots, so for those clubs their ladder position is somewhat validated. But interesting that Melbourne and Essendon essentially swap, despite how we ‘think’ they are going.

4. Last one on the Bombers, sorry Cats fans (positive couple on you next), Devon Smith continues to lead the way. Last week we spoke about his pressure and if his teammates could follow in behind. Another ten tackles on the weekend, moves into no.1 in the league now, but this time he had plenty of support and that showed in the result. He would be All-Australian squad for sure right now.

5. Onto their opponents on Saturday, couple positive and then a negative. Firstly Tim Kelly, out of the Rising Star calculations because of age but he is the best first-year player by far. The 23 year-old, a second round pick last year (Geelong took Lachie Fogarty ahead of him) after coming second in the Sandover, looks like a 100-game veteran from the get go. One of the Cats’ most important onballers already, averaging 22 touches, five inside 50s, four tackles and four clearances a game, he is a bonafide AFL jet. Great recruiting.

6. Just want to touch on a sliding doors moment out of the continual fallout in the life of Bomber Thompson. We all know the Essendon drugs scandal has left such a lasting impact, for life, for so many involved, but without the intervention of someone like Brian Cook, this scandal could have so easily played out down at Geelong instead. Thompson got Stephen Dank into the Cats’ football program back when he was senior coach but stronger heads within their tent, whilst sticking with Bomber which ultimately proved a masterstroke, gave Dank the boot for grounds probably very clear in hindsight. When Bomber moved on and joined the very inexperienced Hird at Essendon, a club who didn’t have the ‘strength’ of leadership like Geelong with Cook, Frank Costa, etc., Bomber played the ‘Dank card’ again, no-one intervened, and the most tormented chapter of one of the league’s great clubs ensued. Given the state of affairs with Geelong at the time, had Dank stayed at Kardinia Park it could have almost undone that club, so if it was Brian Cook who intervened, bloody hell, that’s massive.

7. Pointed out on one of the Monday night football programs that this marvel that is having Dangerfield and Selwood joined by Ablett in the centre square is far from being the effective weapon the rest of the comp thought it would. They have started 14 centre bounces so far this year for only three successful clearances. That’s bizarre. Mind you, they have only started so few together because with the likes of Kelly, Mitch Duncan and others, the luxury of Dangerfield or Ablett down forward is a weapon in itself.

8. China. Why are we taking some of our national culture over and trying to make that work in their backyard? How narcissistic of us! I mean it’s not like, shoe on the other foot, we let them, say, I dunno, bring their cuisine here and put a gazillion takeaway outlets on every corner, selling whatever it is they make, rice or meat or something, in something as preposterous as rectangle, clear, containers…. So that analogy doesn’t work, but nor does footy in China. Kochie. Bin it please. Nobody is bothered. But I am now definitely having beef and black bean for lunch, how delicious?

9. Carlton had their pants pulled down on Sunday by a Dees team that, yes, as we said, hasn’t beaten tonnes, but to their credit have been as impressive as a top-eight fancy can be in dispatching those lower clubs. But for the Blues, it is not all doom and gloom. This is still a young group who yes, will cop it this week, but we were piling into Essendon only seven days earlier so it can so quickly change. Plus, missing their two best players on the weekend, Charlie Curnow and Sam Docherty, the latter out for the rest of the season of course, they possess a very rusty captain, and are playing a lot of youth which is always a rollercoaster ride in itself – the kids were good for the Dees on Sunday but not so much were the Blues’ kids the same time.

10.Now St Kilda. Let’s be honest, Collingwood did not at all play well. The Pies don’t for whatever reason play Etihad with any alacrity (a home game against the Bulldogs this week at the same venue is anything but a home game) but even though they almost went a final quarter goalless under a roof, they had no troubles with getting the four points in reality. On talent, you could argue the Saints really struggle to stack up with any other club, so when their President still holds top four ambitions, either there’s a lot of untapped chemistry still to propel his team up the ladder or they desperately need a big fish or two to take the rest of the playing list there. Not good.

11. And as for old mate Tim Membrey, a horror two weeks. Kicked 1.8, so many of them were straightforward set shots that he has missed to all sides of the goals, so it’s not just a bad slice or hook, everything’s going wrong. If he doesn’t have a good week in front of the sticks this week I fear he will need to be dropped to find form. Which is a shame because everything else in his game is ok for playing inside 50 in a poor side, getting plenty of touches and taking good catches. It’s just the finishing.

12.On the flip side, gee, Jack Darling, a legitimate star is born. Always thought he was a bit flaky, happy to do the easy bits and be a ‘foil’, but overshadowing Josh Kennedy in a side that’s winning well is no small feat. Working very hard, showing as good a hands as any in the comp, and if you look at the last two premiers, a forward, in form, of Jack Darling size is part of the perfect recipe.

13.Getting way too far ahead of ourselves in May, but the Eagles are packing out that new stadium just nicely week in week out, so some home finals there would be another level, especially if the Eagles are able to host some deep into September. The game is in good nick in Perth and Adelaide, job well done.

14.As for finals, top four, at this point, we’d be pretty happy pencilling in, in very strong HB lead, Richmond, West Coast, Sydney and Adelaide, in no order. The reigning premier look good things to be thereabouts again, their opponents on Sunday look better still, the Swans might be better than the Eagles, and the Crows, doing really well thus far given their injury list to show that 2017 can still be bettered.

15.So, for the final four spots, Melbourne despite the form we exposed above has the talent to convert a 6-3 record into at least 8th, Port Adelaide, probably, then we’d be thinking two of Geelong, Hawthorn, North, Collingwood and GWS. 13 wins, or at least 12 and a half if your GWS, is what you’ll need. The Roos and Pies have the kinder draws in that group – that win for North up in Sydney will be enormous come the end of August.

16. Speaking of North. Hobart. Why are we there? This column is not against Tasmanian footy, not at all, we love Tasmanian footy like Rafael Nadal liked pottery class at high school, but less than 10k there on a lovely Saturday afternoon at Bellerive. Yes, North probably gets a better cheque for the game than if there’d been a crowd twice the size at Etihad, but clearly the locals are showing that they will turn up for their own mob but no-one else. The Hurricanes games in the BBL sell out, so the Taswegians are giving the Roos lip service.

17.Can we then get a Tassie team eventually? Not soon. Here’s why. 18 teams is possibly too many, which I’ll mention next, so we aren’t close to 19, 20 teams in expansion, it would then need to be an existing team moving south. Well how about North themselves? Now they didn’t take a massive package to head to the Gold Coast, so why take something smaller to cross Bass Strait, they are actually ok without being strong at the moment off-field, debt free, and only some on-field success away from a possessing a reasonable membership base. So, unless the league bails on the Suns or Giants such is the mess they find themselves in, sorry Tassie, no dice.

18.State of the game, have we got too many teams? Have we considered that the declining visual of the game has been pretty much aligned to going from 16 to 18 teams? 44 more players each week take the park in our wonderous, elite competition, that prior to would have been found in reserves footy. You think about the fringe players in the lower teams, be it youngsters who are getting games too soon, or guys at their second or third clubs now getting regular gigs, these players would just not be featuring pre-expansion. The talent pool definitely doesn’t extend to filling say 20 good, quality sides each week, we know this, so have we pushed the boat out too far by heading to Surfers Paradise and the Municipality of the Greater Western Sydney Shire Council?

19.Some non-footy to finish, firstly the cut lunches thrown at AAMI Park last Saturday. Yes, we’ve probably rightly outlawed physical violence in all our codes, but how about the nostril flaring, trouser-buckle adjusting taking place in the commentary box to lounge rooms everywhere when Curtis Scott, the 20-year-old Melbourne Storm centre, landed a couple beauties on the yappy Dylan Walker from Manly. He only got a two game suspension for that too, so given the arousal he gave red-blooded footy fans who yearn for the biff, and probably the extra couple thousand Insta DMs from the fairer sex who like a bad boy, I say a good weekend’s work to you, young Curtis.

20. And lastly, ice hockey. The NHL expanded from 30 to 31 teams this season, becoming the first major league to set up camp in Las Vegas. The expansion process was different to what we see in AFL, essentially each of the existing 30 teams could ‘protect’ ten of their roster from the Vegas franchise who then picked one ‘unprotected’ player from each club to create theirs. A bunch of misfits, average players, no stars, who would battle to be relevant and competitive in year one. This week though they defeated Winnipeg four games to one in their best of seven series to be crowned Western Conference champions and will play Tampa Bay or Washington next week for the infamous Stanley Cup. 500-1 at the start of the season to win the whole thing, and if they win four more games they will do just that. The kind of stuff they make movies about. Less of the dancing minions and talking safari animals, more movies like this please. Amazing story.

(originally published May 23)

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tumblingletters · 7 years ago

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Emerald Genesis Chapter 03

Authors: TattooAlchemist and ClassicCowboy

“Education is an ornament for the prosperous and a refuge for the unfortunate.”

- Democritus

Chapter 3: School Days

Shinji had already gotten ready for school when he passed by Misato’s room. He knocked on the door and opened it up finding a great lump in her bed.

“Misato?” He called. “It’s morning.”

“I just got back from night duty a little while ago.” Misato moaned before she yawned. “I don’t have to go to work until later this evening so please let me get some sleep.”

“Okay. And don’t worry about trash I’m going to take it out.”

“Oh yeah, it’s Thursday, isn’t it?”

“Yup. See you when I get back.” He was about to close the door when Misato called for him again.

“Hey, how’s school, by the way?”

“Classes are a little boring but the people are good.”

“Okay. See you later.”

“Later.” Shinji said closing the door, picking up his bag, the trash and heading out.

* * *

The school that Shinji went to was a little different from what he was used to back home. There, he could wear whatever he wanted and there really was no problem. In Japan he had to have a school uniform which consisted of black slacks and a short sleeve button-up shirt.

His classroom was room 2-A and the students were already there at least the ones whose families were staying.

“Hey everyone.” Shinji smiled.

Everyone looked up from their seats and saved pleasantly at him. Then there was one who sat in the very middle of the class. He had light brown hair, glasses, freckles, and was playing with a military aircraft model and his video camera making noises of its engines and the firing its guns.

“Hey, commander, are you sure we’re heading towards the target it looks a lot like the ground.” The glasses boy said imitating the voice of a soldier and then responding to himself. “Of course, you fool! How dare you question my authority! AAAHHHH!”

“Morning, Kensuke.” Shinji greeted with a laugh.

“Ah, Shinji. How are you?” The glasses boy named Kensuke Aida answered.

“Not bad. But it looks like you could have fun playing with yourself all day long.” The moment the words left Shinji’s mouth he began to giggle.

“Oh, very funny.” Kensuke half-grinned then turned to see a girl in pigtails and freckles looking at him with a disappointed scowl. “What’s up, class rep?”

“Did you deliver the printout I gave you yesterday?” She asked.

“I um….”

Shinji could see Kensuke’s hand going into his desk and he knew full well that he didn’t even take the paper out of his own desk.

“There wasn’t anyone at Toji’s place.” Kensuke tried to cover up his laziness.

“Mister Aida.” The class representative named Hikari scolded. “Aren’t you Suzahara’s best friend? Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

“Of course, he is, Hikari.” Shinji defended his classmate.

“You don’t think he was injured do you?” Hikari asked Shinji.

“You mean in that robot battle?” Shinji asked then shrugged. “Nah, the reports say that no one was injured.”

“I call bull on that.” Kensuke countered. “You saw that explosion on Mount Takanoso didn’t you? I bet at least ten or twenty people were injured. And there had to be a few fatalities.”

“Kensuke.” Shinji moaned. “You’re just letting your war overcharged mind running amok.”

Just then the door to the classroom opened and there was a tall boy with shortly cut black hair and a dark blue sweat-suit at the door. He had such a stern look on his face almost like a soldier reporting for duty.

“Toji!” Kensuke called out. “Welcome back.”

The tall boy named Toji Suzahara came over and set his bag down in the desk in front of Kensuke’s.

“Where is everyone?” Toji asked. “Is our entire class missing?”

“They either evacuated or transferred to other schools.” Kensuke explained. “No one wants to stay in a place where there’s an actual battle going on.”

“Except you that is.” Shinji injected.

“Oh, Toji, let me introduce a new kid.” Kensuke stated. “This is Shinji Jordan. He just transferred here from America.”

“How you doin’ new kid?” Toji grunted his reply as he crossed his legs and looked to the floor.

“Hey, Toji. Where’ve you been the last few days?” Kensuke asked as he kept making pans around the room with his video camera. “Did you get involved in the war?”

“No, but my little sister did.” Toji answered grimly. “She was crushed under some debris. She survived but she’s been in the hospital ever since. Both my dad and granddad are both working at the lab and if I’m not with her she’s all alone. That robot’s pilot is really dumb! How could he wreck our own city!? It makes me so ANGRY! What’d that idiot think he was doing!? I’d like to get my hands on him so I can kick the shit out of him!”

Shinji felt a wave of guilt come over him after hearing what had happened to his classmates’ sister. But at the same time there was a desire for him to do something for him at least to make up for the mistake that he caused. But he also knew that if he stayed silent he would look suspicious.

“I’m sure the pilot was doing what he could at the time.” Shinji said trying to console the angry classmate. “But your sister is alive, right? And as long as there’s life there’s hope.”

“What’d you know?” Toji spat at the classmate.

“Hey, he was just trying to console you, Suzahara.” Hikari defended.

Before the argument went further the teacher stepped into the room and classes began.

* * *

The day progressed at a slugs pace. The final class was history and the instructor was droning on and on about the events of the Second Impact and the aftermath that happened in its wake. It was something that Shinji had already known and studied back home. Then again, his mother always encouraged him to study hard and they would usually have contests to see if he remembered his studies and there were snacks as rewards.

Each student had a small red laptop that would be used to follow along with the teachers lessons but the students had found ways to use it as a note-passing system. Unlike in the old days when students would pass paper notes the computers allowed them to silently communicate without the instructor even knowing.

Toji was leaning back and daydreaming when he saw a small message pop-up on his screen. It was from Kensuke.

Kensuke: Did you hear the rumor about Shinji? He transferred here just after the giant robot incident. Don’t you think that’s an odd coincidence?

Toji: Yeah, it is.

Shinji’s seat was one seat back from the front row. He was shifting between studying and daydreaming as well when he also received a message on his laptop workstation. It read:

Hikari: Is it true, Shinji? Are you the pilot of that robot? Y/N

Shinji was taken aback by it and looked around to see the face of Hikari who was had a friend of hers leaning towards her, smiling and waving at him. Then Hikari typed some more.

Hikari: It’s true isn’t it? Y/N

Shinji sat for a moment wondering how to handle this. He understood that knowledge of the Angels had become common knowledge and so too did the Evas. However, there was no rule in the manual that he had that said anything about him keeping the fact of him being the pilot a secret. Plus he had to admit he liked the way the girls were smiling at him as they asked the question. On the other hand there was Toji Suzahara and his sister. He would have to answer for what happened to his sister but in the end it was probably better than he knew the truth instead of fuming in the dark. With that in mind he typed his answer.

Shinji: I’ll tell after school.

The moment he typed that in he heard a very low groan coming from several people in the room but that was when there was a soft set of ding-dong tones coming from overhead signaling the end of the class period.

“That’s all for today.” The teacher said as he left.

“Alright everyone.” Hikari ordered. “Everyone stand and bow.”

They did as they were instructed.

The moment the teacher left the room several of Shinji’s classmates turned to look at him.

“Okay, let’s hear it.” One of the girls asked. “Are you the pilot or not?”

Shinji answered without hesitation. “Yes. I am.”

There was a wave of surprised sounds coming from the students. All of them asking several questions all at once. Such as how was he picked, did he have to take a test, what was the robot like, was he scared to do it, and on and on they went.

“Hey, everyone please. Let’s get a grip.” Shinji said trying to quell the crowd. “Look. Most of the stuff I know is classified so I can’t really tell you very much about it.”

This time, there were audible groans from the classmates.

“Hey, new kid.” Toji said standing up from the seat. “I want to see you outside.”

Shinji could immediately tell the anger that was building beneath the surface. It was volcano day and Shinji was standing at the base of Mount Vesuvius.

“Okay, let’s go.” Shinji agreed.

* * *

Outside between the buildings many of Shinji and Toji’s classmates had gathered in a circle around the two of them. Shinji was half expecting Kensuke to come out with a microphone telling everyone “Let’s get ready to rumble!” and taking bets from kids in the crowd of who would win and how and when. Instead, Kensuke was standing at the sidelines with his camera handy and watching the fight unfold.

Toji was cracking his knuckles in preparation.

“Why didn’t you say you were the pilot?” Toji asked in his fury.

“After what you said?” Shinji asked.

“Well that doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna clobber you one to work off my own anger.”

“I don’t want to fight you.” Shinji asserted.

“I wouldn’t want to fight me either.” Toji said as he readied himself into a fighting stand and came at Shinji with the first blow.

Instead of his fist making contact with Shinji’s face, the kid dodged the attack and Toji lost balance. He was nearly about to trip when he shifted his weight and regained his equilibrium. Turning around he saw Shinji standing casually as if he were waiting for the train. All the while the classmates in the crowd were clapping and chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Toji threw another punch but Shinji dodged it again and again and again.

“Come on, damn you! Stand still and fight like a man!” Toji demanded with his voice screeching and cracking.

“Do you really think that hitting me will make your sister better?” Shinji asked.

“No, but it’ll make me feel better!” Toji shouted.

“Very well. Then I will allow you to hit me.”

“You won’t dodge?”

“No.”

Toji stepped up to Shinji and saw the determination in his deep blue eyes. The anger that he felt built and built upon itself until he balled his hand into a fast and slammed it against Shinji’s face. The punch had knocked Shinji back but he didn’t fall. Instead he dropped to one knee and stood back up.

“Feel better now?” Shinji asked.

Toji said nothing. He balled his fist up again and punched Shinji in the gut. The blow had knocked the wind out of him and caused him to gasp for air as he fell to his knees and grabbed onto his mid-section.

At last, Kensuke stood over him as he was regaining breath in his lungs.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” He asked. “You kicked ass in your robot. And you were doing well at dodging.”

“What would be the point?” Shinji asked standing back up.

Kensuke said nothing only ran off after Toji.

Shinji looked to his left and found the blue-haired girl, Rei Ayanami. She was a little less bandaged than before but she still had a cast on her right arm, a bandage around her head, and a patch over her right eye. With her good eye she looked at Shinji so coldly and then reported, “There’s an emergency. I’ll report in first.”

With that she ran off and left him behind.

“Right.” Shinji said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

* * *

Within one of the many emergency shelters of Tokyo-3 the members of class 2-A were sitting upon mats waiting for the crisis to be over. However, Kensuke Aida had other plans after seeing the censorship on the television news. With Toji’s help they convinced the class rep that they needed to use the bathroom.

In the men’s room at the urinals Toji and Kensuke were discussing a plan.

“I need your help to unlock the gate.” Kensuke explained.

“What for?” Toji asked

“I want to get footage of the robot battle.”

“You really must have a death wish.”

“Come on. This may be the one chance to see an actual battle. And if we let this one slip who knows when the next one will come. Besides, don’t you want to see the battle too?”

“And get injured by that robot like my sister? No way.”

“And what if that pilot dies in battle because of that beating you gave him? Don’t you feel guilty or obligated?”

Toji was silent but the grinding of his teeth was audible. If it weren’t for the trickling into the urinal the grinding would have echoed through the bathroom.

“So?” Kensuke asked. “Will you help me? Please.”

“Okay! Okay! Jeez. You’ll say anything to get your way won’t you?”

Kensuke only grinned.

* * *

Shinji sat in the cockpit of the entry plug. He was already dressed in his flight suit or “plug suit” as it was called. It was used to increase the synchronization between himself and his Eva. The suit was a combination of white, blue and black with the numbers 01 on his chest. Despite the unknown dangers that he may face Shinji couldn’t help but think back to his classmate, Toji and his sister. It made him think how many more people were caught in the crossfire of the battle between the Evas and the Angels.

“Shinji, are you ready?” Misato asked over the com.

“Ready when you are.” Shinji replied.

“First neutralize the enemies AT Field then fire a volley. Do it just like we practiced. Can you handle that?” Ritsuko asked.

“Just let me at him.” Shinji said.

“That’s the spirit.” Misato said sounding pleased. “LAUNCH EVA!”

There wasn’t as much of a shock to Shinji when the Eva would launch vertically. He took it with the same blasé attitude as one would have driving their car onto the freeway but there was still the battle ahead. Deep down he hoped that everyone in the city was safe. He didn’t want anyone to suffer. Not like the way Toji and his sister were suffering.

The Eva came to a stop and he ran over the combat instructions that he had gone through with Ritsuko for the past few weeks.

Position target in the center and pull the switch.

“AT Field has been unfolded.” Ritsuko reported.

“Do it just like we planned, Shinji.” Misato said.

“Got it.” Shinji acknowledged as he made the Eva pick up one of the rifles from the nearby storage buildings. “Moving out now.”

The Eva was hidden behind one of the buildings and Shinji could see the target on the HUD map. Taking a deep breath he made his turn as if he was making a dive into a really cold pool of water. He didn’t see much of the Angel and he didn’t care at first because the only thing that mattered was defeating it. With the thing in its sights he did as he practiced, positioned the target in the center and pulled the switch.

He fired volley of bullets at the enemy until there was a wall of gray smoke and he was out of ammunition. For a moment there was nothing and there was the clear sense that he had already won within a few minutes of his battle but he was wrong.

A pair of glowing tentacles shot out from behind the wall of smoke and struck the Eva. It sliced off the muzzle of the rifle and the nearby storage building as clean as a sharp pair of scissors through construction paper.

The surprise attack had knocked the Eva onto its back and despite Misato saying that a spare rifle had been sent Shinji was frozen in place. He saw the face of the enemy and it was truly monstrous with its tall, purple body and tiny arms in its mid-section that looked like the legs of a centipede. The tiny legs were wriggling as if they were blinding clawing for something to grab and tear apart. At its side there were two limbs that were connected to the pink undulating tentacles and they were glowing like neon lights and sparking like live wires that were without their protective sheaths. But most of all at the top, beneath a pink mushroom-like cap there was a single red sphere that almost looked like an eye that looked at the Eva as if it were a bug to be easily squashed.

The tentacles made another attack and Shinji instinctively ducked out of the way. The moment he did the lights in the cockpit went red and a small pop-up screen came up.

TIME REMAINING: 5:00:00

Without the umbilical cable the Eva has a battery time anywhere from 1 minute minimum or 5 minutes maximum.

Shinji was about to act but then he felt something grab onto his leg, or rather the Eva’s leg and threw him up into the air as if he were nothing more than a child’s toy being recklessly handled. For a moment it did feel like an amusement park ride but then the idea of the ground had kicked in as well as slammed into him when Shinji could feel it hard against his back.

“Shinji! Are you alright?” Misato called out. “Shinji! Damage report!”

“Minimal damage. He can make it.” Someone had reported over the COM system.

Getting over the initial shock, Shinji looked down and between the enormous purple fingers of the Eva’s hands he saw two figures looking up at the Eva and shaking like frightened mice. Immediately, another set of pop-ups came on his screen identifying them as Kensuke Aida and Toji Suzahara.

“What’re those dumbasses doing here?” He asked aloud.

Before Shinji knew it, the Angel was making another attack with its glowing tentacles. This time instead of dodging them he reached out and caught them with his bare hands. The sensation that the Eva was feeling was sent right into Shinji and it felt like he was grabbing onto a piece of silverware that had been sitting in hot water for too long. Every neuron in his head was telling him to let go of it but he couldn’t because Kensuke and Toji were down there.

* * *

Inside NERV headquarters, Misato and Ritsuko had already seen the situation that Shinji had seen. They knew that Kensuke and Toji were Shinji’s classmates and that boys being boys they wanted to see the fight despite the risks of being killed in the process.

“Shinji.” Misato ordered. “Let them into the cockpit. Once you have them inside we’ll make a temporary retreat and we’ll start again later.”

Ritsuko immediately protested. “What makes you think that unauthorized civilians can be allowed into the entry plug?”

“I’m authorizing it.” Misato stated.

“You’re exceeding your authority, captain!” Ritsuko asserted.

“If you’ve got better ideas, I’d like to hear them.”

“Unit One’s remaining activation time is four minutes.” Someone reported.

“Shinji, hold Unit One on its current commands and eject the entry plug. Do it now.”

* * *

Outside of Eva Unit One Kensuke and Toji knew that the Eva couldn’t fight because they were there. And it was only in the face of imminent death did Kensuke come to the realization that this idea was a bad one. His first instinct was to grab Toji and run back into the shelter but then another answer had presented itself.

The back of Eva’s neck had opened up and there was the entry plug along with a voice saying, “You two get in!”

* * *

The climb up into the entry plug only took a couple of minutes but it was the longest couple of minutes that Toji and Kensuke had ever experienced because with each step they took they kept looking up to see the Angel still struggling against the Eva’s grip. Seeing it there was the very real sense that it could break free of the Eva’s grasp and attack again while they were still making their climb. Coupled with it was a sense of vertigo where they would look down and see how high they were getting off the ground. In that sense there were three ways they could die: falling off the Eva, by the Angel inside the Eva, or by the Angel while getting in.

At last they managed to climb into the entry plug and found they were being submerged in water. The lights came back on and found Shinji dressed in a flight suit and grappling with the controls.

“Abnormal conditions occurring in the nervous system.” A reported stated.

“Of course. You allowed two foreign bodies into the matrix.” Ritsuko assessed. “Their noise in the nerve impulse system.”

“Eva activation time down to one minute.” Another reporter called out.

“Shinji! Get out of there! Utilize escape route 34! Get out!”

“Hey, new kid!” Toji shouted at Shinji. “Didn’t you hear her? Let’s get out of here.”

“No.” Shinji grunted still holding onto the controls. “I am Shinji Jordan and I will not run! Do you hear me? I WILL NOT RUN!”

Utilizing the controls, Shinji made the Eva take one of its arms away from the pink tentacles of the Angel. The moment he did, the thing made its strike stabbing into the Eva’s mid-section. Shinji ignored the pain and used the free hand to pull out the Eva’s progressive knife.

“What’re you doing, you idiot?” Misato shouted.

“I’m ending this fight.” Shinji grunted as he shoved the controllers forward and plunged the progressive knife into the Angel’s red core.

“Eva activation time 50 seconds.”

“Come on. Die damnit!” Shinji grunted through the pain feedback. He pushed as hard as he could against the resistance of his enemy. The clock kept counting down as if it were making as much of a threat to Shinji as the Angel itself.

“Die!” Shinji snarled until finally he screamed, “DIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!”

Sparks flew out from the crack that the knife had made in the core. They bounced and scattered across the neutral face of the Eva but within Shinji still had the look and determination of a warrior hell-bent on seeing his enemy dead. He knew that once the core would start to crack then the Angel would be dead but there was nothing except for that singular slash that was made.

The two giants were at a deadlock. Who would die first?

“Eva activation time: ten seconds….nine…eight…seven…six…five…”

At that five second mark, the Angel had finally relented when its core began to crack like thin ice under a heavy boot and the last set of sparks had flown out and the core had turned from its red shade to a dead gray.

“Two…one…” A reporter had finalized the countdown. “Eva Unit One activation ceased. Target is completely silent.”

There was also silence within the cockpit as there was no more power to fuel the monitors or the main lights. Shinji took his hands off the controllers and leaned back in the cockpit chair. He wanted to look over at Kensuke and Toji but he couldn’t see but he could hear their breathing.

“You know,” Shinji began, “I hope this makes us even, Toji.”

Toji said nothing.

Next time:

Carol’s voice: Shinji has to find a way to help people with the ring without others knowing about it. He hears some comforting words from his father and his classmates but not from Misato. And what of the blue-haired girl named Rei Ayanami? She seems cold and distant but seems close to Commander Ikari. All this will be answered next time where there will be fanservice.

Misato: Damnit! Will you stop taking my job!

Neon Green Evangelion: Chapter 4 – Ring Training

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