#pushing it all down and becoming this corporate city person that I thought I should be

[nico-di-genova]

There is actually so much comfort in taking all the pieces of myself that I pushed down and ignored, in favor of crafting a new image of myself, and looking at them in a new light.

[bobfloydsbabe]

illicit affairs | bob floyd x oc | mob boss au

walk the line

SUMMARY: After staying late at the office, Bob insists on walking Abby to her car.

WARNINGS: mob boss au, sexual tension, sexual thoughts. strictly 18+/minors dni.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

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SPECIAL THANKS: Thanks to @joaquinwhorres for the prompt, and for the endless support and encouragement for MBB and my other writing. I adore you. Thank you to @wkndwlff and @sylviebell for listening to me rant about this for hours on end.

A/N: This was supposed to just be a quick and easy 500 word drabble. That obviously didn't happen. Enjoy!

Bob leans back in his chair and rubs his palms against his eyes, trying to make them hurt less from staring at his laptop all night.

The Bates family has been creating problems for him for weeks. They’ve somehow blocked every permit he’s been trying to get with the city so he can finally start construction on the Belmont Street project.

Letting his hands fall away, he opens his eyes and notices the light at Abby’s desk is on.

With a furrowed brow, he pushes himself up and walks across the expanse of his office until he’s standing in the doorway.

Abby’s sitting at her desk, typing away on her keyboard, doing who knows what. He checks his watch and sees that it’s far past midnight.

“I thought you’d gone home hours ago,” he says, letting his arm fall back at his side.

She startles, making the whole table shake and her hand flies to her chest where her heartbeat is likely running wild.

“You scared me,” she tells him after collecting herself enough to look at him.

“Sorry. I thought you’d gone home,” he repeats.

She shakes her head, making a stray dark hair fall from her ponytail and rest against her cheek. “Unless you dismiss me, I don’t leave until you do, sir.”

Even after being here all day, she still looks as flawless as she did when she walked through the door that morning.

He thinks back to last week inside her apartment after the fundraiser when he’d nearly given into temptation. She’d looked perfect then, too. Cheeks flushed from the alcohol and dancing with him. Only him.

He thinks of the aide who’d dared to lay hands on his girl in full view of all the guests. Bob had only applied enough force to the kid’s hand that it would hurt for a while. Certainly not enough to break it. Abby was none the wiser, but he’d seen the kid with an ice pack on his fingers later on.

“Well, I’m heading home for the night,” he begins, looking back at Abby, who’s watching him. “So should you. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

Bob goes back to his office to close up for the day and grab his suit jacket off the back of his chair. When he returns, Abby’s slipping a coat over her shoulders.

“Ready?”

She faces him with a bright smile. “Yes,” she says, and leans forward, clicking off the lamp on her desk. “All set.” She rounds the desk and heads for the elevator down the hall.

On the surface it looks like a normal corporate office with a receptionist, open floor plan with conference rooms closed off by large glass panels, a kitchenette with the essentials like a microwave and a fancy espresso machine Javy insisted they get even though he only comes by the office once a week.

Bob smiles to himself, trailing behind Abby, whose ponytail swings like a pendulum against her back, and he can’t help that his eyes wander down to her hips. Those heels drive him wild and they make her ass look fantastic.

He’s walking a fine line, and he knows it.

The elevator doors slide open right as he catches up to Abby, who moves remarkably fast in heels that high and thin.

“You coming?”

He meets her eyes, realizing he’s stopped outside the elevator. He shakes his head and joins Abby inside.

As the doors close, every one of Bob’s senses become engulfed by Abby. He feels the heat radiate off her on his skin, can practically taste the mint of her lip gloss on his tongue, hears her steady breath, and watches the rise and fall of her chest in the corner of his eye.

What gets him is the scent of her. It’s different. Darker, muskier. Sexier. Rose and a hint of vanilla, but still her.

“New perfume?” He asks, turning to face her. In the harsh overhead lighting of the elevator, he can see her cheeks warm up, and he fights the way his hand twitches, desperate to reach out and touch her skin.

He knows it’s velvety soft.

“Yeah,” she admits, not meeting his eyes. “It was time for a change.”

A hum is his only reply, making her finally meet his gaze. She looks like she wants to say more, divulge a secret she’s not supposed to, and he longs to pry it from her pretty mouth.

He takes a small step forward, testing the water to see how she reacts. She doesn’t flinch, but her eyes flicker down to the floor for a second before coming back to his.

Her cheeks burn hotter than before when she asks. “Do you like it?”

Leaning down, his lips graze her exposed neck when he inhales the scent of her. Her breath hitches, body shuddering at the touch.

He cranes his neck upward and finds Abby’s eyes trained on him, darker than usual.

Maintaining eye contact, he presses his lips to the skin of her neck. “I do,” he says and straightens his back.

Abby’s jaw is slack, and her eyes follow him as he takes another step closer. Their breathing fills the small space, but all Bob sees and feels is her.

The woman who has haunted his dreams since the moment she first stepped into his office.

His fingers twitch again, but right as he’s about to reach for her, the elevator stops moving and the doors whoosh open.

Abby jumps away from him as if burned by an invisible flame.

“Ladies first,” he says, gesturing to the open doors.

She smiles politely, wrapping her thin coat tightly around her body, and folds her arms across her torso to keep it in place. She offers him a nod as she passes and mumbles a quiet thank you.

Bob follows her out, cursing whatever powers are against him for putting Abby in his path. He’s holding onto professionalism by a thread that’s rapidly unraveling.

He’d regret it if he could, but the magnetic pull Abby has on him is something he can’t describe. There’s an inevitability in his attraction to her.

The sound of her heels echoes through the concrete parking garage. He’s watching her ponytail swing against her shoulder blades, follows it with his eyes, trying his best not to let them travel down to the swell of her ass. Again.

He realizes a beat too late that he hasn’t actually walked her to her car as much as he’s followed behind her. Now they’re at her car, a sensible black Range Rover in pristine condition, and she rifling through her purse for the keys.

He stands behind her left shoulder, catching another whiff of her intoxicating perfume. “Need help?”

“No, I got it,” she declares, proudly pulling the key out of her purse. Her smile is contagious enough that Bob feels the corners of his mouth turn upward.

She unlocks the door with a click and steps forward, but Bob reaches around her, grasping the handle before she can.

He steps forward, forcing Abby to turn around so her back is against the side of her car, facing him. Her breathing is shallow, uneven, and her eyes flitter around before landing on him.

“Sir?”

He hums as the hand that was on the door slides up behind her until his palm finds the back of her head. 

“What are you doing?” She asks, voice breathless and trembling. Anticipation hangs in the air between them, and the chilly night air does nothing to ease the tension.

A soft breeze carries her scent to his nostrils as he grasps the tie that holds her dark hair in place and pulls it. As it comes loose, Abby’s hair falls in a cascade down her back.

Her gaze holds his now, transfixed. “Why did you do that?”

Bob tosses the hair tie to the side. He slides his fingertips up her arms, reaching behind her and gently bringing her hair over her shoulders so it falls around her face instead, framing those round cheeks.

“Because I like it down,” he tells her, voice so quiet he can barely hear it himself. Abby’s chest rises and falls, and he feels it against his chest. The sensation makes his cock stir, heat spreading in his abdomen.

He sees a silent war in her eyes, and whatever she’s fighting against wins as she places a hand on his chest. She grasps his tie, but doesn’t pull at it, just holds it in her hand.

They don’t say a word. Just look at each other, daring the other to make the first move, to change whatever’s going on between them.

Bob knows what he wants. Her. He wants to kiss her neck, leave marks there and claim her as his. He wants to run his tongue along her folds as she moans and begs for him to keep going. He wants to plant himself deep inside her, make her chant his name, paint her insides with his cum, and watch her struggle to speak afterward.

The allure of having her is almost enough to make him cross that line he’s long hesitated to approach. His desire for Abby makes him vulnerable, and that’s what eventually makes him step away from her in that dimly lit parking garage.

Her hand falls from his chest. He holds the door open for her, but she remains in front of him on the ground. She draws her brows together, creating a cute indent between them, which he aches to smooth out.

“Goodnight, sir,” she finally says, hoisting herself into the driver’s seat.

He offers her a tight-lipped smile. “Goodnight, Abigail.” He closes the door and takes another step back, breathing a sigh of relief as tension leaves his body. 

The engine comes to life, and Abby offers him a small wave as she pulls out of her parking space. He doesn’t return it, but finds himself alone in the garage with the ghost of Abby’s hand still on his chest.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials his driver.

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[felikatze]

Just wanted to say thank you so much for all the brainworms you have been giving me and my friends for the past few hours about Ayin and all the analyses you've been doing about him.

I have been losing my mind in the middle of the night thinking about all the things you've said, turning it over like crazy and trying to compare it with the gameplay I've had of Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina.

Please do more analysis and share more of your ideas! Please? Please, with cherry on top? Please, I beg of you?

Especially if you have in-depth ideas of analyses for the Sephirah and how it relates to both their own characters and Ayin and Angela.

I thank you greatly in advance!

the implication that i've infected an entire friend group with my brainworms is power that will 100% go to my head i feel amazing. what else is analysis posting except trying to inflict people with the same thoughts bouncing around your skull on repeat

i DO have shit on the sephirah but mostly netzach, because i love netzach, and i in fact found my discord ramble about him (and chesed)

i dont have things on how they relate to A and Angela specifically because I mainly kept thinking abt Reverbaration Ensemble parallels... i have so many thoughs abt Netzach and Bremen.

(but if you want me to talk about, say, a specific core supression, or floor realization... i have a lot of thoughts on floor realizations.)

First off I am so sorry that you seem to think I'm smart because that means i have the perfect opportunity to inflict you with this

okay now we can get to the serious stuff

[transcript:

containment breach:

quick ramble abt lor again but i love the ensemble receptions so much. i'm at chesed's rn, and i know he's been chill the entire game, but him just refusing to comment on jae-hoon's tragedy seems, out of context, a dick move, but also is so important for chesed to do? he recognizes that another's suffering is not related to him, that he can't do anything about it, and that this is fine. The closest i'd describe chesed in lobcorp would be "activist burnout." Due to betraying the lab from garion's pressure, chesed was so consumed by guilt, he just blamed himself for everything and became more callous because it's already his fault, right? There's nothing he can do. But in lor, he knows what his responsibilities are, and allows himself joy where he can find it. I love the ensemble receptions bcuz they are just examplary of each patron libriarian's growth and i iqbfjc (sobs)

GOD this sure is a paragraph

also have to salute netzach for carrying his scene all by himself as the musicians of bremen just (animal noises) :pray:

ykno being online i realize that i'm not quiet at all i am a complete and utter chatterbox /end]

[transcript:

containment breach:

thinking abt netzach's scene where he doesn't talk to bremen, because he can't, but recognizes this who has not only lost themself in their own art but also their own suffering

i just i love netzach so much his entire character arc is abt learning to live with depression and learning to want to live again

so he becomes unable to understand, really, why someone would sacrifice themselves for their own art

when he started out just, similar yet different from bremen, completely submerged in his own misery

musicians of bremen reminds me i still have bremen bon bons at home i should eat those. they r tasty /end]

i wanna specifically dig into this scene more because i love that scene, a lot.

Art as we get to know it in the City is irrevocably tied to violence. Puppets are made of human bodies, music is played on bones and sinews. To the artists of the City, to create art is to make someone suffer. Rewatching Netzach's story bits, Roland describes it as doing nothing but seeking stimulation and being provocative.

Furthermore, there is a direct comparison between art and alcohol. To paraphrase more, the Pianist must've been one hell of a stimulant, like getting hit by a strong booze. A performance some are still hungover from.

Netzach's main struggle was addiction because of depression, and his growing appreciation for art is a continuation of that arc. He says himself that art and alcohol are linked.

However, alcohol is a step down from hard drugs. Netzach hasn't quit, but just that step down shows he learned moderation, which makes me very proud of him.

Moderation is what the other.. let's just call them artists, lack. I said in the screencaps above, initially, Netzach was lost in his own suffering, and the musicians of bremen are lost in their art. And if art is seen as equal to suffering, that just means Netzach and Bremen are more similar than expected. (Especially considering what we see of the musicians previously; they’re always trying to chase the same high they experienced listening to the Pianist by any means necessary. The addiction parallels are not suprising.)

I rewatched most of Netzach's lor scenes, and what rlly gets me is that in his first one, he seems almost the exact same as in lobcorp. He doesn't want to work, he got dragged into this against his will, he feels as if his accomplishments are futile.

But! He eventually invites Roland for drinks. He's not drinking to forget alone anymore, he's doing it as social activity. Furthermore, the more time he spends as Patron Librarian of Arts, the more he grows to appreciate art. Art is tied to suffering, still, but it is an expression of suffering. It does not produce any. Or should not, in any case. He sure wishes it wouldn’t.

So we arrive at his Ensemble Reception. This one makes a rather interesting comparison: art as the pursuit of the light. Let me elaborate.

To quote, “Honestly, I wanna tell people to stop doing the kind of art that requires ‘em to immolate themselves and others. Although, on the other hand... I can kinda see where they’re coming from. Art narrows your vision, after all.

You stop caring about the things around you. That’s how most artists seem to act, I think. And so, you indulge in the craft, not realizing that you’re throwing yourself and your surroundings into the fire you started.”

I pose this: Netzach speaks of his experience as Giovanni. Giovanni was a researcher who, when push came to shove, willingly sacrificed himself to advance the project, in hopes of seeing the light, seeing Carmen, again.

Though he dislikes Bremen’s actions, he does not judge them for it, because he recognized that it would be hypocritical. Even so, what shows that he’s grown is that he.. doesn’t want to see people harm themselves anymore. The focus here isn’t if Bremen hurt other people, which they have, but how much of themselves they’ve given up for their performance. He condemns the act, and not the people.

“If I can see that light once more... If I have to muster up the courage to reach it, I’ll gladly do it. It’s easier said than done, though; you need a lot of fearlessness for it.

And I guess you saw the same kind of light I was so desperate to see, yeah? Even if yours was a twisted creature... [...] Though, I don’t think I can tell you off like the others. At least I can see the reason behind it.”

He even explicitly mentions the light. The funny thing is, both Giovanni and Bremen tried to reach the Seed of Light, and Carmen. It’s tragically hilarious that we know Carmen is the voice the Distortions hear.

Hell, the more I think about it, the more you can just compare the Ensemble as a whole to the Outskirts Lab crew, down to Angelica’s puppet body and Carmen’s desecrated corpse.

“And I know pretty well that we have no right to devilishly pick apart each other’s way of art. I’m not very proud of mine, really...”

Netzach just.. gets it. I can’t remember atm, but I don’t think the other Patron Librarians really draw parallels like that. I’m seeing all the parallels now and I can’t unsee them ever. Bro.

His “art,” his way of protecting the light, is still violent. But he sees that perhaps it didn’t have to be, or rather shouldn’t be. I fucking love Netzach so much. His arc just means a lot to me personally, and I’d wager a lot of people who’ve struggled with mental illness would agree.

I’m not gonna get into Netzach’s floor realization here because this post is already long enough, but like, look at the specific flashback of Angela shown in Netzach’s story bits and contrast it to his arc of learning to want to live, and. Yeah.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

At My Worst (Chapter 1)

Work Summary: Thanks to his enduring popularity in the fandom, The Author pops back into existence and the egos must suddenly contend with someone they thought was gone forever coming back from the dead. No one is more shocked than Dr. Iplier, who can't help but remember how things used to be - and slowly fall back into bad habits, despite his better judgement.

Warnings: Mild descriptions of past violence/discussions of death (more tags on AO3)

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

Last he knew, Dark was ripping his eyes out.

Then, he was nowhere and nothing.

Now, he suddenly is, where before he wasn’t, and the rush of sensation returning is terrifying and paralyzing. But he still knows who he is, he knows his name and that he’s a figment, and he remembers his life. Rather, his previous life, he suspects.

It doesn’t take long for The Author to get his thoughts back in order and regain the presence of mind to look around. He appeared standing, and somehow didn’t fall, but he doesn’t trust his legs enough to move just yet. He’s surprised by the fact that he can look around, that the eyes he viscerally recalls losing are back in his head, fully functional. The area he’s in looks familiar, reminds him of the forest his cabin sat in, but it becomes apparent that the place is different now. The trees are less wild, the ground more even. He’s standing on a path, perhaps a nature walk or hiking trail. Last he remembers, there were no such trails in his woods.

He finally walks, letting his instincts take him to where his cabin should be, though he already has a feeling it won’t be found. Sure enough, he goes as far as he can down the trail, leaves the path and goes onward, and eventually finds himself at the edge of a neighborhood. Where the cabin used to be is a two-floor house, probably built for a family with kids, and in the surrounding street are even more such houses.

Author doesn’t know how much time has passed, but clearly, it’s been a long time since his cabin stood. He has to wonder what became of his books, his life’s work. Were they saved by the other egos, or are they forever lost?

For a moment, he isn’t sure what to do. But he’s a clever man, so he thinks. If he exists, surely the other egos must be around somewhere, too. All he has to do is find them. But if they aren’t here, then where?

He walks back the way he came, back to the trail, passing the place he appeared in and continuing onward. By the time he makes it to the trail’s beginning, night has fallen, and the parking lot by the trail is empty. He walks past the parking lot, comes to a road, and walks. It’s not so late that no cars are driving, at least; it only takes a few whizzing by his upturned thumb before one decides to stop.

“Where you headed?” asks the driver, an ordinary-looking man with a moustache. Author wonders how entertaining he’d be in a story.

“LA,” Author says, settling into the passenger seat like he belongs. For having not existed at all twelve hours ago, his easy confidence returns quickly.

“Heh, aren’t we all?” the man chuckles, pulling off the roadside to start driving. “Anywhere in particular? I can put it in my GPS.”

“Not really,” Author says, “Just get me to the city and I’ll take it from there.”

The man shrugs, but doesn’t pry. Maybe he wouldn’t be a protagonist, but possibly a character just there to help the protagonist along, as he is now. Then again, his unquestioning nature would make him easy death fodder, too.

On the way to the city, Author tries to look around the car, just to see if he can figure out what day it is. The radio playing tells him the day of the week and the month before long, but he can’t figure out the year. It’s not a terribly long drive to the city (Author remembers how long it took to get to Dr. Iplier’s clinic, and the distance isn’t that different) (Oh, Dr. Iplier, he must be somewhere too, does he still hate Author for what he’s done?), and once he gets there, Author has but one favor to ask.

“Thanks for the ride, but quick question,” he begins as he unbuckles his seatbelt, “Any chance you have a pen and a notebook in your car I can have? Or even just a sheet of paper and something to write with?”

“Uh, sure,” the man answers, confused by the request but not so much that he won’t grant it. He rummages through the glove compartment until he pulls a notebook with some corporate logo, and a pen with the same branding. “Have these, got them from work a long time ago but I don’t need them.”

“Perfect!” Author exclaims, taking the notebook and pen. He flips through the notebook, taking in the sight of blank pages, empty canvases, ready for him to make his own. “Have a good one, man.”

The man nods, rolls up his window, and drives off, leaving Author standing on a random sidewalk just inside Los Angeles. But he’s not bothered, because he finally has his tools. He can do anything or get anywhere. He knows that Dr. Iplier’s clinic has likely gone the way of his own cabin if it’s been too long, but the egos must be somewhere in the city. Author doesn’t know why he feels that way, but he supposes his instincts have the right idea. He’s always been a creature of impulse, so he does exactly what he did when the sun was up and lets his legs carry him where they may.

When he gets hungry, he enters a fast food restaurant and opens his notebook again, this time to write. While in line, he reads the cashier’s nametag and puts pen to paper: When The Author reaches the front of the line and orders, Stella pays for his meal herself. And she does, without skipping a beat. Author stays in the building to eat, and internally snickers at the confused look he sees on Stella’s face when she realizes what she did, seemingly for no reason.

As far as Author can perceive, it hasn’t been very long at all since he last used his power. But his body can tell it’s been a long time, somewhere deep in his mind knows it’s been forever since he picked up a pen and changed reality to suit his needs. A part of him is glad he’s still got it, but how could he ever lose it in the first place?

Back to walking. It’s late at night, but his mind is too active to be tired. It wouldn’t be the first time he was up all night, whether pacing his cabin trying to untangle the next scene of a story, or painting LA red in search of inspiration, or tormenting a character in the woods, or staying up with Dr. Iplier until the sun came up and he had to return to his clinic in the early hours, yawning through a cup of coffee. Thinking of his doctor only makes Author’s mind buzz even more. How long has it been, truly? What must Dr. Iplier be like now? Can they start over again, now that Author’s been reset?

The more Author walks, the more he feels a pull to keep going. It’s as if there’s a GPS unit inside his brain, telling him which way to go. He has no clue where he’ll end up, but he follows anyway, not having anywhere else to go. Besides, perhaps he’s being led to the other egos, maybe some element of himself is being drawn to them. He still knows that he’s a figment, of course, and that being a figment makes him a little more magical than the average human, a little more special, even ignoring his reality-bending powers. Part of him wants to use his writing to get into a locked car and drive to where the magic inside him is leading, but even at this hour, he knows it’d be quicker to walk.

It’s morning by the time Author feels he’s gotten somewhere, nearly a day has passed since he found himself alive again. By now, the streets are once again full of people and cars, and the swelling sounds of conversation and car horns remind him of his trips into the city with Dr. Iplier. His feet finally come to a stop in front of a huge building. It doesn’t look very different from the other corporate skyscrapers standing along the street and stretching into the horizon, but it radiates magic. It’s a beacon, and Author can tell just by looking at it that this is where he’s meant to be, this is the place he’s meant to stay.

He’s startled out of his reverie by someone bumping into him, barking at him to watch it, and moving hurriedly along. Author is disgruntled, but has little time to get angry before yet another person does the same thing. He moves out of the way of traffic to stand under the magical building’s awning, away from the crowd. Amazingly, no one even seems to see him anymore. No one acknowledges him, or even looks at the building Author is standing in front of. Whatever magic it has, humans can’t see it. Perhaps that’s the point, perhaps the building’s magic is keeping it hidden. Author can’t help but be impressed. If he’s right, it must be Dark and Wilford’s doing; no one else would have enough power. Still, keeping a building shrouded constantly would take a lot of energy, and though Dark and Wilford are powerful, they aren’t powerful enough for something as big as this as far as Author remembers.

As if he needed more confirmation that it’s been a long time since he last existed.

Still, he’s made it to where he wants to be, and he’s not about to stop moving forward now. He walks to the door, pushes the double-doors open, and steps inside.

The doors open up into a wide lobby, high-ceilinged. Off to one side is another set of doors, wooden and old-looking. There’s quite a few other, more typical doors along the back wall, a couple labeled that lead to staircases and some without labels that likely lead to other rooms. There’s also an elevator in the center of the wall. The lobby is much bigger than the outside of the building would suggest, and Author has to assume it’s more magic at work. He has no more time to wonder, because one of the unlabeled doors opens.

Out steps another man, with hair swooped low and orange sunglasses and a tank top with the Bing logo on it, of all things. He stops mid-step at the sight of Author, and Author can’t help but pause, too. He doesn’t know who this person is, but he can tell he’s a figment. Not only that, there’s something too familiar in his hair, his face, his height. This figment is another one of Mark’s.

Author already felt like he’d found the right place, but now he knows for sure.

“Woah, how’d you get in here??” asks the figment, walking up to Author as his shock gives way to confusion. “Wait, are you a new ego?”

“You could say that,” Author replies with a shrug.

“Oh, sick!” the figment exclaims, now grinning with excitement. He reaches out to shake Author’s hand, and his grip is stronger than Author expects. “My name’s Bingiplier, but like, everyone calls me Bing. What’s your name, dude?”

“The Author,” Author answers, a little bewildered by Bing’s energy. Granted, he certainly seems like someone Mark would conjure up as a joke, but most of the true joke egos barely lasted a week.

“Oh cool, you write and stuff?” Bing asks. He frowns for a moment. “I gotta admit, though, I’m totally blanking on what video you’re from. I don’t watch all of Mark’s videos, but like, I don’t think anyone was expecting a newbie to show up soon.”

“I do write,” Author replies, though his mind is buzzing with the new information. No one’s expecting him? Then how is he here? “I can reality-bend with writing. I write it, and it happens.”

“Nice!” Bing says, “That’s, like, super-powerful. We haven’t had a real reality-bender show up in ages. Actually, your deal kinda reminds me of The–”

“Hey.”

A monotone voice, deeper than Bing’s, interrupts. Author and Bing both look to see someone else approaching. Author can’t help but grin, because this is an ego he recognizes. Googleplier’s hair is still long and shaggy, he still has his glasses, and even though figments don’t truly age, he looks older somehow, more mature. He’s not glitching the way he did when Author knew him, and his jaw is stronger, his stature more imposing. It takes a moment for Google to see Author past Bing, and it takes a moment more for him to register what he’s seeing. His eyes widen behind his glasses.

“Author? Seriously?” Google asks, incredulous.

“Wait, you know about him? Did I just miss the memo on a new ego coming or something?” Bing whines before glaring at Google. “Are you here for an actual reason, or just to butt into my conversation?”

“Ollie wants you, you won’t answer his pings, and the others are still charging,” Google answers, deadpan. Bing pauses a moment, face screwed up in confusion, before understanding slowly dawns.

“Oh, he did ping me. I was busy talking to the new guy.”

“Ping you?” Author interjects.

“Oh yeah, I’m an android!” Bing says brightly. “So’s Google, but he’s just the old default.”

“Leave already before you get dismantled,” Google growls at Bing, but his eyes don’t leave Author.

“Ugh, fine,” Bing sighs. He flashes Author a peace sign as he walks away. “See ya round, dude!”

Google waits until Bing is out of sight before approaching The Author.

“How are you here?” he asks, more bewildered than Author has ever seen him.

“You tell me,” Author scoffs, “You were always the know-it-all. All I know is that one second I didn’t exist, and the next second I did.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About a day? Popped into the woods where my cabin used to be.” Author stares hard at Google. “How long has it been? Since Dark tore my eyes out?”

Google hesitates for a long moment before responding.

“Six years,” he says.

Author’s jaw drops.

“Six years??” he gasps.

“Six years,” Google repeats. “It’s 2021, now.”

“When did Bing show up?”

“2017. Four years ago.” Google thinks for a moment. “Technically, that makes him older than you.”

Google’s right. Author was only a couple years old when Dark killed him. At this point, he’s been dead longer than he’s been alive.

“Jesus Christ,” Author mutters. He can hardly wrap his head around it.

“Jesus Christ is right,” Google growls, “How the hell did you get here? You died. You faded away.”

“I already told you I don’t know!” Author snaps. Google gives him a look like he doesn’t believe him. “Look, I appeared, I felt the urge to come here, and now here I am. So now what?”

“Now I have to take you to Dark.”

“Yeah, no. I remember how our last interaction went.”

“You have to,” Google sighs, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Every new ego has to meet with him–”

“I’m not new.”

“–And besides, nothing in this building happens without him knowing. I don’t like dealing with him either, but I’m not about to get in trouble for not telling him about you.”

“No choice, huh?” Author sighs. “Alright, let’s get this over with, I guess.”

Google leads Author to the elevator in silence. He presses the button for the sixth floor – the highest one – as Author thinks.

Six years. He still can’t conceive of it. Even for a normal human that’s a decent chunk of time, but for a figment, it’s like a lifetime. Plenty of figments don’t even make it to six years old…though clearly, Google and Dark have, and Author has to wonder who else has. Six years and six floors of this building means a lot of new people.

“Figures you and Dark stuck around,” Author muses to Google, “The fans always do love the grumpy ones. And now there’s Bing, and that “Ollie” and the “others” you mentioned…”

“That would be Oliver, Chrome, and Plus,” Google says, “The three of them are androids, other Google units, in fact.” That fact makes Author bark out a laugh.

“You got clones, now??” he snorts, “That’s awesome. Think I could borrow one for a story?”

“No.” Google’s response is instant, paired with eyes glowing icy blue.

“Alright, alright,” Author sighs, “Six years and you still haven’t gotten a sense of humor.” He pauses for a moment. “How many of us are there now?”

Last Author recalls, there were eight, including himself. Google barely needs a moment to mentally calculate it before he has an answer.

“Twenty-one,” Google answers.

“Twenty-one??” Author exclaims, jaw dropping.

“Twenty-two, now, with you. There’d be even more, but some have faded away.”

“Is anyone I knew gone now?”

“No, the oldest ones are still here.”

That means Dr. Iplier is still here. Author can’t help but feel relieved. He’s not sure what he’d do if he found out Dr. Iplier had faded away sometime during his absence. He’s so cheered by the thought that he forgets why he’s in the elevator until it finally stops at the top floor.

Right. Dark’s still here, too.

“I’ve already sent Dark an internal ping,” Google says as he leads Author out of the elevator. “He’s expecting you now.”

“Snitch,” Author mutters under his breath. Google rolls his eyes, but he chooses not to respond verbally.

The pair pass several doors as they walk, and Author wonders how many of them lead into the bedrooms of egos he hasn’t met. He wonders what Dark is like now. After all, Google seems to have barely changed aside from no longer glitching constantly. But he remembers how the people outside couldn’t even see this building, remembers the sheer size of the place, and knows that Dark must be much more powerful than he used to be to be able to pull it off. Too soon, Google and Author arrive at a door that’s much nicer than the others so far. Google knocks, something that the Google Author remembers would hardly ever do.

“Come in,” says a deep voice from inside. An older voice, but the same one that Author remembers well.

Google opens the door, and The Author steps inside.

Dark is not like Google. He doesn’t look the same as he did before. His hair is longer, swooped to the side. His eyes are still deep brown, nearly black. He’s wearing a suit and tie now, his skin is gray. Most striking is his aura. Where it used to be minimal, only wisps of smoke that showed themselves occasionally, it is now a swarming mass of writhing black tendrils surrounding him. It shakes even as Dark stares evenly at Author from behind a large wooden desk. Dark’s expression is cool and calm, and his hands are folded on his desk, but there’s tension in his shoulders and a hardness in his eyes.

“You’re dismissed, Google,” Dark says to Google, “But do not mention this to anyone.”

Author glances at Google, who nods and leaves, closing the door behind him, leaving Author and Dark alone.

“So,” Author says breezily, pushing down and hiding his discomfort. He’s not scared, but he does feel awkward, and a little annoyed to have to see Dark at all. “Nice place you got here.” He flops into a chair in front of Dark’s desk. “I hear there’s twenty-two of us now, crazy how time flies.”

“Exactly how did you come back?” Dark asks, without a hint of humor.

“I told Google like three times, I don’t know!” Author says, his annoyance getting the better of him. He takes a breath and calms before continuing. “I don’t know. I woke up in a forest, the same one where my cabin is. Or used to be, it’s just houses there now. I hitched a ride to the city and walked until I got here. It’s been about a day since I woke up.”

“I see.” Dark sighs, leaning back slightly in his seat. “This has never happened before.”

“I’ve gathered that.” Author frowns at Dark. “I might as well address the elephant in the room. Are you gonna pull out my eyes again or what?”

“No,” Dark answers, voice tight and aura swarming faster, “I will not. Things have changed since then, that is no longer how I deal with unruliness.”

“Is that what you call it?” Author mutters, “‘Dealing with unruliness?’ Does that make you feel justified for killing me?”

“You’ve been gone for six years,” Dark snaps, “Don’t pretend you know anything!” All at once, Dark’s form cracks, a shadow of himself turns away to scream in frustration. The scream is cut short, the whole thing lasts only a moment. Despite himself, Author nearly jumps out of his skin.

“What the hell was that!?” he shouts.

Dark settles himself, chuckling quietly. His aura calms somewhat, but it continues to churn the air.

“As I said, things have changed.” Dark rolls his neck, it cracks like the vertebrae are clacking against each other. “To put it in a way you would understand, my story has been rewritten in recent years. There’s a lot for you to catch up on.”

“I’ll pass,” Author retorts, “I’m not about to stick around here with you.”

“I’m afraid you have no choice.” Dark’s eyes go steely. “You may have guessed from the large number of us that Mark is much more popular than he used to be, which means we need to be more careful. You recall my desire to unite us all in a single building.”

“The building I died in, right?” Author snaps.

“Yes,” Dark replies coldly, undeterred by Author’s attempt to fluster him. “This building, in fact. The more popular Mark gets, the more recognizable we become, and the more vital it is for us to avoid attention. This building is imbued with magic to prevent humans from seeing or entering, and there are rules about the ways in which we may interact with them.”

“If you’re gonna tell me I can’t write my stories–”

“You can write as many stories as you like,” Dark says smoothly, “And you may use humans as…protagonists, if you so choose. But your stories may not be published, and you may not develop close relationships with humans.”

“And if I break the rules?”

“You get to visit my void.” Dark grins. “A place made of pitch, so dark you cannot see your hand in front of your face, cold and just quiet enough to hear its voices. It only takes a few hours to break someone weak. For someone strong, maybe a week.” He tilts his head. “I suspect a day or two in there, with no one to control and nothing to do, will drive you mad. At the end of a week you’d be tearing off your own skin just to feel.”

Author wants to scoff at the dramatics, but there’s something in Dark’s eyes and posture that makes him believe it.

“What if I leave anyway?” Author asks, “Strike out far away and find my own place?”

“Then you’ll have all twenty-one of us looking for you, whether actively searching or keeping an eye out. Once you’re found, the punishment would be immense. We’ve had egos run off before. The longest one ever stayed lost was eighteen days. Perhaps you could last longer, but your punishment would be that much longer as well. And if my void does not deter you, there’s a holding cell in the basement that’s designed to cancel out magic and keep figments contained indefinitely, where you can stay until you come to your senses.”

Author glowers, considering. It’s clear that he has no choice but to go along with the arrangement, but he’s too stubborn to give in yet.

“Any other rules I should know about?” he asks derisively, “Is there a dress code? Do I have to ask you if I want dessert after dinner?”

Dark glares at Author for a long moment.

“My, not even death could change you.”

He lets his own words hang in the air before continuing.

“The other main rule here is that you cannot harm another ego. Self-defense or defense of another ego won’t be punished, but aggression and attacks will.”

“That’s rich, coming from the one who tore my eyes out,” Author growls.

“You can watch your attitude,” Dark snaps, voice dangerous and aura waving wildly. “I’m still the leader, and you still need to respect me. You may not have changed, but I have, and I am much stronger than you can imagine. If you continue to draw my ire, you will find out just how much stronger I’ve become.”

Dark wasn’t nearly this imposing back in Author’s heyday. He didn’t have this maturity, this intimidating tone of voice, this simmering rage that only shows itself in bursts. He used to be pettier, whiny, more mean than cruel. There was a reason Author didn’t fear him, and it was that he could tell, clear as day, that Dark was threatened by him. But the Dark that sits before Author now is not threatened. He’s angry, but not defensive. He means every word he’s said to Author, and Author knows that Dark will make him regret pushing his buttons if he persists.

So he stays silent for a long moment, and Dark’s aura gradually calms, and his expression smooths back out.

“Good, we understand each other,” he says, “Now, you need to meet the other egos. I’ll call a meeting for the others.”

“Google said the others I was around with are still here,” Author says, remembering, “Are they coming, too?”

“Yes,” Dark says, “But their meeting alerts will have…context. They’ll know it’s you before they arrive.” He sighs then, raises a hand to rub his forehead. “Speaking of context, there’s something you should know before this meeting occurs.”

“What’s that?” Author asks, curious. Perhaps a little nervous, given Dark’s behavior, but he’d never admit it.

“After you died, a new ego appeared, one who looked somewhat like you, who had no eyes. It came about that he had all your memories, but he wasn’t you, isn’t you. His name is The Host, and as far as we all knew…you became him, you were reborn as him.”

Author thought he was done being surprised, being shocked. But this revelation is the worst of all. He became someone else? There’s an ego here that has his same history, and the six years he missed on top of that? A clone like Google has, but one that has a different life, has a life at all. Someone who’s The Author, but isn’t. Someone The Author was supposed to be. The one who came from the ashes of Author’s death. While he spent six years in darkness, this other him, this Host, was living the life that should’ve been his. It only gets worse the more Dark explains. Author hardly perceives Dark’s words, but he perceives their meaning, especially when another name is mentioned. The shock builds and deepens.

It’s not enough that Host now has Author’s body, his memories, his life.

He has his love, too.

His doctor.

Dark explains that Dr. Iplier and Host have been in a relationship for years, and something inside Author crumbles.

This is the man he was so excited to see again, the man he’d hoped he could start over with once he found him. He’d dreamed of that on his long walk to the building, dreamed of Dr. Iplier lighting up at the sight of him, dreamed of them both apologizing to each other for how they ended things, dreamed of them reconnecting, rekindling, loving each other all over again. But the dream shatters further the more Dark speaks, and the more Dark speaks, the more Author’s vision tunnels and the louder the blood rushes in his ears. Dr. Iplier didn’t wait for him. He moved on. He moved on with this facsimile of Author, and did so a long time ago.

Author doesn’t hear what else Dark says, he’s too busy thinking. But no matter how much he thinks the situation over, he can’t accept it. He won’t allow this ache in his chest, this burning in the back of his eyes. Dr. Iplier may have moved on, but some part of him must still love Author, if he moved on with the newer version of him. The way they loved each other was like nothing else, even six years later there’s no way Dr. Iplier has forgotten Author, has forgotten what their love felt like, has stopped missing it. Author will find his way back to him somehow, fix their relationship and fix his own breaking heart.

There has to be a reason Author came back to life. There’s no possible way him and Dr. Iplier could end like this. And Author may be a lot of things, but he’s not a quitter.

He can’t give up on Dr. Iplier, his heart won’t let him.

[innocent-chris-evans-slut]

The Assistant - Part Three

My Masterlist ✨

Series: The Assistant - Part Three

Part One - Part Two

Summary: Y/N is Ransom Dysdale’s assistant. She’s the closest person to him and spends everyday with him at his house. Usually she gets in at nine o’clock and makes sure everything is perfect. One day he doesn’t want to get up and Y/N goes in his room. She finds a surprise.

Word Count: 2,7k 

Type: smut, kind of fluffy 

Warning(s): dirty talking, blowjob that turns in pure face-fucking

It was almost seven in the morning when your alarm went off. You reached for it on your side table, but you didn’t find it, then you realized it wasn’t your bedside table and, definitely, it wasn’t your bedroom.

In front of you stayed a chair and, on top of it, dozens of male sweaters and pants. Still, your eyes locked on the silver vibrator on the desk, wrapped in a white towel. You closed your eyes, hoping it was a nightmare, yet, when you opened them again, laying next to you there was Ransom.

You rested on your left side, facing now the built man, who didn’t look so authoritarian with his eyes softly closed together and lips partially opened.

You stared at his lips. You would have been lying if you’d said he wasn’t really good-looking.

Ransom Drysdale was an awesome man and, again, his being a complete asshole attracted you.

You shook your head, and once you had regained consciousness, you managed to get up and, wrapping a long towel around your naked body, you made your way into his bathroom.

A couple of minutes later you got out and pleasantly noticed Ransom was still asleep and he had now burned his face into the pillow, so you were sure he was sleeping.

You just wanted to get the hell out of there before Sam could run into you while arriving at work, then you remembered: Sam wouldn’t have been there that morning, Fran would instead, and only God knew how much you hated that woman.

Every time she worked at Ransom’s, she made clear the disgust she felt for you -you didn’t even know why she was so bothered by you working for Harlan’s grandchild. You were used to bitter words and the cold glares she would address you as you entered the kitchen, or the room she was cleaning. Fran was sent by Harlan to clean Ransom’s house, but you were sure someone else wanted her to check on you, too.

That was the reason why every time she was around, you always addressed to Ransom as Mr. Drysdale, you would keep your eyes down on the floor and try not to argue with him.

You knew that Linda Thrombey wanted you out of that house as you were too bossy for his child -she would say.

If only she knew what Ransom did to you last night and how a mess the sheets on which you two slept were.

You stopped quickly at your place; a flat not far away from your boss’ house, just between the chaotic Boston-city life and the quiet countryside life. It was very different from Belmont, but you had liked it since the first day.

You tossed your beige dress on the floor and ran to your closet, taking out the first bunch of clothes you found; you were running out of time so you put on a peachy lace top and slid in a pair of white long and wide trousers. As usual, you wore high heels peachy décolleté. You looked at yourself in the mirror, liking the arranged outfit, and smiled at yourself.

A few minutes after, you were again in your car -after buying Ransom’s favorite breakfast- and you pulled in his walkway. There was another car, blue and old, and you knew it was Fran’s.

You opened the door and entered the house. You reached up for the kitchen and pulled everything out of the paper bag you were holding; some seconds later you heard his heavy footsteps coming closer and his scent spreading out in the room. You smiled and let the dish slide onto the counter.

“Good morning, Mr. Drysdale”, you took a seat in front of him and played with your phone as he ate his breakfast.

That silence wasn’t uncomfortable, embarrassing, it was just natural. It was filled by your thoughts and every now and then one of you would check on the other.

Things got heated once Fran had entered the kitchen, glancing between the two of you and placing the red pail on the floor, next to you, “Hugh, your bedroom and your office are clean”.

Ransom smirked, “Have you change the sheets? You know”, he took a sip from his tall glass, “Yesterday’s girl had such a night” he was shamelessly looking at you while talking and the fact that you didn’t flinch just a little made him continue, “Unfortunately for her, she was so tired that she hadn’t the chance to take my fat-“

“Mr. Drysdale! I don’t think you should talk like this, rather I’ll have to communicate it to Mrs. Thrombey.”

“Do you think I care? This is my fucking house and you are fucking working for me right now. If I want to bend a girl over this counter, or if I want a girl to suck my cock right here, I would do it,” he raised his voice as he got up, let the fork fall into the dish loudly, “Now, do your job and don’t be a pain in my butt”; having said that, he left the room and went to his office, shutting the door behind him with a loud noise.

“Rude”, she commented, getting out of the room and starting to clean the couches in the living room.

Your laugh had started with a smile, then turned into a deep guffaw as you saw her opening a drawer full of condoms. You didn’t stop either when she looked up at you with a disgusted face and closed the wood-made drawer. Being satisfied with yourself, you got up and made your way to the office, where Ransom was working. Silently you sneaked in and sat down behind your desk, facing the brown-haired man writing on a paper.

Even though his day-light activity was leading the little family corporation, you discovered a new side of Ransom when you accidentally found a manuscript in the first drawer of his desk.

6 months before 

Ransom would have killed you if you didn’t make it in time for his 12 o’clock meeting.

How can someone forget at home his notes at home the day they need them? Only Ransom Drysdale could have done something like that.

You ran up to his office and unlocked the door. He’d told you to search in the drawers of his desk and you did so, opening each one of them and pulling out that was in-there. You looked everywhere, yet you couldn’t find them. Though Ransom had told you, more than once, not to open the first drawer on the right, you did it and finally found what you were looking for.

Also, something else.

As you lifted the few pages of notes, together you grabbed involuntary another piece of paper that had nothing to do with Ransom’s meeting.

                                                The Social Climb  

                                   a book by Hugh Ransom Drysdale

You stood there in total shock.

Was Ransom, your Ransom, writing a book? And most importantly, was Ransom writing a book about himself?

You chuckled as you read the list of names to which attribute the book. He clearly didn’t want to reveal himself -and you didn’t know why. According to you, he had never been a man committed to numbers and rules, you would better see him as a freelancer -having his own rules, his own hours, and never having to report to anyone else other than himself.

You quickly glanced at the clock on the wall and flinched when noticing it was a quarter to twelve and you still were at his house. It took almost half an hour to get to the company and you couldn’t make it in time.

That would have been your last day working for Ransom Drysdale.

You giggled thinking about that day and looked over your boss, whose attention was now fully on you, and your lips opened up in a huge smile.

“What’s so funny?” he raised an eyebrow confused by your attitude and placed down the pen he was holding. As no answer came from you, he got up and approached your desk, “Again, is there anything you’d like to share with your boss?”

“N-nothing, just a memory”, you omitted talking about the book you had found in his desk a long time before. You saw him getting around the wooden-made table and laying against it, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

You saw his pecs contracting under the thin material of the sweater he was wearing and slowly releasing the tension when he let his arms fall to his sides; then he gripped the border of your desk. His knuckles becoming white.

Ransom sighed, “The things I’d like that pretty mouth of yours do to me”, he came closer. His lips a few inches from yours, his piercing blue eyes firmly in yours. He raised his thumb and gently rubbed it against your lower lip, “I bet they would be soft and so warm wrapped around my big cock. God, probably you couldn’t even take it all in your mouth”.

His eyes hypnotized you, they were shining with lust and desire. Ransom desired you.

He stopped caressing your lips, though his fingers never left your face. He brought his thumb where your lips were parted and inserted it between them; you welcomed them in your mouth and sucked on them. Ransom wide-opened his eyes, then smirked, “You’re such a whore. Eager for your boss’ cock”.

You shouldn’t have been, but those words, and the tone of his voice, really turned you on and you felt the wetness on your dripping on your panties. You desperately attempted to ease the ache between your legs by tightening together your thighs. Though you couldn’t do it since Ransom kept his thick and strong leg between your knees.

“Nope”, as usual, he popped the ‘p’ and with a firm movement, he spread your legs as wide as he could, they hitting the armrests of the chair, “Such a good assistant for me, aren’t you?” he pushed his thumb deeper in your mouth -it was almost touching the back of your tongue, sending shivers to your spine. “Have you locked the door?” “Y-yes”, you managed to say with his finger still in your mouth. He twisted his thumb around your tongue and your moans filled the room, going straight to his cock -already semi-hard in his pants. You saw the fabric of his trousers stretching around his crotch and his free hand been brought there, gently caressing that point. Ransom’s finger left your mouth and left a wet trace up to the straps of the crop top you were wearing.

“How many times you came last night?”

“Five”, you replied almost immediately, hoping he would give you the amount of pleasure he had given you the night before, “Five times, Sir”.

That word, which easily slipped away from your lips, made its magic. Ransom brought your hands up his thighs and motioned you to keep going, while he leaned against your desk.

Though you weren’t sure he had left you the control over the situation, you let your hands climb back his toned chest, only to let them fall again and eventually rest them on his crotch. It was so hard, and you were ready to say that its tip was already reddish and pre-cum pouring out. You came closer and Ransom groaned as you wide-opened your legs, leaving his fingers space in which wander. Ransom’s buckle felt cold against your fingertips as you unbuckled it and unzipped his pants enough for his cock to break free.

Of course, you had heard stories about him and his talent in bed, but you would have never thought he was that big. How would you be capable of taking him in your mouth? There was no way you could do it -especially not sitting on a chair, at his mercy.

“Hu-“

Ransom stopped you by cupping your face and lowering at your height, “I made you come five times yesterday. It is time you recompense me”, he let you go, and you gasped, before breathing out and moving your hands on his thick and long cock. He groaned while looking at you, gently, yet firmly, stroking his pulsing member and paying attention also to his balls. “Mouth…” he whispered.

Before wrapping your mouth around him, you moved your tongue around his member and licked his entire length. You wet your lips and took a quick look at him: head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened and knuckles white as his grip tightened on the border of the desk.

Ransom Drysdale was melting under your touch and you acknowledged it.

You smiled at yourself and kept your eyes on him as you placed a soft kiss on the red tip of his cock. Then you opened your mouth and started lowering your head on him.

It wasn’t the first time you gave a blowjob to a man; you knew what to do and how to please them. Yet it was your first time taking someone that big.

Surprisingly you had no problems in deep throating him; his tip hit the back of your throat and you swallowed not to choke. Once you had gained more confidence, you began moving your head up and down -never allowing cold air to hit on Ransom’s cock. You pace raised when you felt him growing even harder -if possible- and becoming warmer than before.

Your right hand was still playing with his balls when the man brought both his hands to your head and took a handful of your hair; you immediately rested both your hands on his thighs and a second after Ransom pushed you down on his cock. He stood dead straight for a moment, then he bent over and forced you in that position.

Your hands gripped his ass, founding it soft, yet perfectly contracted, as he face-fucked you. Your not choking on him made Ransom even more furious and he increased his pace; his cock was deep inside your mouth and his balls were clipping against your chin, wet by drips of saliva dribbling from your lips.

“Right”, thrust, “How”, another thrust, “You”, rough thrust, “Like”, deep thrust, “Takin’ it”, Ransom stopped thrusting as he came. A warm flow was released in your mouth and you did nothing but swallowing all Ransom was giving you. You felt it going down your throat, yet the built man wouldn’t get out of your mouth, “Keep it warm, just like the whore you are”.

You stayed there, occasionally slipping your tongue around him as he closed his eyes and thrusted in you another couple of times. Suddenly his tip hit the inside of your cheek and Ransom slapped it, bringing to him another wave of pleasure.

“Mr. Drysdale are you in there?”

You blinked as you heard Sam’s voice coming straight to your ears, your eyes went to the door and you quickly recall in your mind the moment in which you’d locked the door before. Then you went back on Ransom with your gaze and saw bother on his face.

“Yes, we’re planning my agenda. What’s the problem?” he pulled out of you and you touched your aching jaw while closing your mouth, “Is that urgent?”

“Mrs. Drysdale is here and would like to talk with you.”

Ransom panted and rubbed a hand over his face, “Give me a couple of minutes!” he yelled back and stood up.

You brought your hands up to his thighs and, under his bewildered gaze, you lifted his boxers, zipped his pants and buckled his buckle, “Yesterday you took care of me, today I’m fixing your jeans. Your mother doesn’t want to know you’ve just face-fucked your assistant”, you got up and encouraged him to exit the office and reaching Linda Drysdale-Thrombey in the living room.

Before leaving the room, Ransom turned to look at you as you got up, unleashed your hair, and headed to the little bathroom in the office. Just the fact that he would rather prefer to sit down and stare at you while you walked around his house as you owned it, made him think that he needed to talk with the only person who would give him good advice.

And then he thought about fucking you on his desk.

Tag List -open-: 

@sinner-as-saint

@andreasworlsboring101

@hazmyheart

@this-is-selena  couldn’t tag

@constantlywishingonstars​

@captainchrisstan​

@im-married-to-chris-evans​

@stargazingfangirl18​

@aurorajuarezwolf​

@vivien-1211​

@beepbeepbop​

@aikeia​

@princess-evans-addict​

@candypurplebutterfly​

@salvatore1864stuff couldn’t tag

@farihafangirls​

@xoxloaveasre​ 

[seostudios]

零 don’t cha

synopsis: who would’ve thought that dating you; the perfect it girl. would be this much trouble? definitely not nakamoto yuta as he decided to become someone more significant to you. was this your average fairy tale or was this a tragedy?

genre: fluff, angst pairings: yuta x fem!reader info: ceo!au, non-idol!au, ceo!yuta, ceo!model!music-producer!nct, rich!au, mentions of proclaimed death, cheating, brother!johnny, assistant!haechan!jungwoo wc: 6.8k

a/n: lol this is NOTHING LIKE WHAT U REQUESTED I’M SO SORRY..... i mean in the beginning it is but it just took a turn and i was writing whatever came to mind... like 2/3 of the story isn’t even a yuta x reader fic it’s jsut about everything else! i hate myself for doing u dirty but i hope u read this! it’s actually good (imo) since i worked awhile on it and it’s one of my longer fics. 

She was fierce, elegant, beautiful. An unmatched package for any walking figure. Her person, running a multi-millionaire business by herself. Doing it for who? Her and Suki; the fiery red betta fish, placed on her nightstand. Yuta was just like you. Although Yuta is fierce, charming and quick on his feet, he still manages to be just the opposite around you. Yuta is on the right path, growing his empire little by little. You started as an insufficient secretary for an Electric Power Corporation but, those late nights and overtime paid off as you are now the CEO of your own retail company. Yuta waltzed into your business while he was an errand boy for Moon Taeil, a good friend and business partner of yours. Taeil had been worried about his future and decided he would've let Yuta go under your wing for a couple of weeks.

That brings you here, September 2019. The vibrant hues of autumn settling into the busy streets of Seoul. "Good morning Ms. Seo." The receptionist, Chaewon, greeted with a bubbly smile like any other day. "Yuta is waiting for you in your office," She informed, watching your small strides turn into a jog towards the elevator. When you reached the top floor where your office and meeting rooms were located, "Did you receive John's fax? He told me your father wanted an opinion!" Haechan, your assistant, asked swiftly, sticking to your hip as you stepped out of the conveyor, pushing his glasses up. "Oh, can you tell him to print whatever he sent and meet me for lunch? I heard he's back in the city." He nodded before running back towards his cubicle to make the requested phone call. That's when you were finally able to enter the office. "So... The rumours are true, you did decide to visit." You grin like a Cheshire cat plastered onto your face, you made long strides beside Yuta, who was staring into the traffic abyss below you two. He hummed before turning over to you; "How is my favourite person doing today?" He asked cheerfully before inviting himself to sit on your chair. Dragging yourself yet again, towards Yuta. You stood in front of him before seating yourself on top of the desk. He watched as your posture slumped and brows knit with a childish frown displayed. "Not well," He decided to sit up in his seat, hands combing through his dirty blond locks. "John's back in town, I'm pretty sure he brought Gyunghui." You roll your eyes unknowingly at the mention of your elder brother's proclaimed girlfriend. "I mean, who gets married after dating for 6 months?!" You groan, disappointed in your brother's decisions. Yuta's eyes crinkled at the corners before he threw his head back in laughter. Was this the reason you were so upset? "Y/N they've been friends for 10 years, I think it's safe to say they'll be okay." He responded with a smile. Straightening up, you huff and look the other way, crossing your legs. "Ugh, Whatever..." You look back down at him, "How is Jin Nyun?" Yuta's face fell, 'Can't we go one conversation without mentioning her?' He pondered momentarily before looking up at you with a soft smile, "She's amazing. She went out of town for work," He sighed, "Again." Your brows furrowed for an instant. He seemed upset. Why wouldn't he be? You'd be furious if your lover set off on multiple business trips every week. That's when it hit you, "What is she again? Job?" You question. "She's a photographer." Now that's bullshit. You knew for a fact, she wasn't big enough in the industry to leave on trips on multiple occasions for a photoshoot. "Why?" He asked, and you couldn’t explain the sense of innocence you felt from him, so oblivious to the situation he's in. "N-Nothing just wondered." You stutter out. He observed you quietly but decided to leave it like that. Raising your wrist, you glance towards your watch, "It's nearing noon." You whisper, Yuta looks up, "Plans?" he questioned with a brow raised. You nod "Lunch with Johnny," Smiling you reminisce back to when you and Johnny ruled overtop Seoul, with two successful companies in powerful industries. "I'll walk you out then," Yuta chimed, jumping from his seat, bringing his hand out for you to hold. "Oh! What a gentleman." You giggle, watching his cheeks tint in a shade of red.

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"You sure there isn't going on between you and Yuta?" Your brother asked playfully, watching as Yuta walked you towards the small cafe at the end of the street. "He has a girlfriend, John," Can't a man and woman simply be friends? What's with him? "So?" He shrugs laughing before whining from the sharp pain in his calf where you managed to land a hand kick at. "What? From what I've heard from Taeil and Mark," Mark is Yuta's closest friend. "She's not all she says to be," He brushed it off his shoulder, "Maybe she's just a workaholic?" You suggest, "We both know an amateur photographer like her isn't that busy." The two of you erupt in a fit of knowing laughter. "You're too dangerous, Johnny," You kiss your teeth before being served the lunch you had Johnny order earlier. "But on a serious note, you should find a boyfriend." He makes a disgusted face, looking you up and down. "Before you age, aren't you almost 24?" He questioned, "Yea, but-" "Mom was pregnant with you at 24." He finishes, before receiving a well-deserved step on his big-toe. "What?! I just want what's best for you!" He barked, "You think that's Yuta! He's my friend and not to mention a business partner!" He lifted his hands, trying not to engage in an argument that might have you ignoring him (again) for months. "Alright, I know!" He sucks in his breath, "Lunch is almost over, kiddo. Try getting in that office and doing something extravagant as always." Johnny grabbed your empty plate and stacked them on top of one another, cleaning up as much possible. "You should have dinner with Gyunghui and me tonight? I'm sure you don't have plans." His eyes lit up at the mention of Gyunghui. It almost warmed your heart. "I wish! I gotta help Yuta clean his apartment tonight," Way to go Y/N! You just made the worst excuse possible. Yuta was probably going to be spending his evening kicking back and relaxing without Jin Nyun. Now that you've told Johnny this, you'd have to go through with it. "Oh?" Johnny's face turns into something more sinister. But you laugh it off knowing he's probably thinking of something perverted. "Okay! Gotta go!" "Not so fast," He grabbed the back of your arm, seating you back down, "You pay today." He smiled before grabbing his briefcase and jacket, exiting happily.

You slump into the cushion before grabbing your purse from the inside of your jacket pocket. After you pay, you pull out your phone, dialling Yuta's number. The call didn't even reach the first ring before he picked up, "Hello?" He was first to speak too. Weird. "Hi, It's Y/N-" "I know, we've had each other's numbers for three years now." You chuckle, "Okay... We have plans tonight, my friend." You can hear the evident groan on the other end. "When and where?" He asked. "After I get off around four and your place!" You cheer before silencing, waiting for a response. "Okay, good." He paused for a moment before continuing, "I need to clean this place up anyways, you can help out." He stated. "Perfect." You replied.

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Who would've guessed that your evening is being spent by scrubbing a sink with floral gloves? "You know," You started. "We could've gone out for dinner and hired someone for this," Yuta, who was behind you wiping the kitchen counter. "Yes, but it's unnecessary." He says. You groan, "Can't we watch something on Netflix? This place was already clean when I came in!" You whine, stomping your feet like a child. "No," He simply replied.

"Okay! Let's see what's on Netflix..." You mumble, before looking over to Yuta beside you on the couch. He seemed tense, uninterested. It was odd to see him like this, "Are you okay?" You tediously asked. He murmured something under his breath before sucking it in. "This is weird," He said, "Why are you trying to hang out with me while my girlfriend is out of town? Are you into me or something? I just find it weird!" He finally let out. So this is what has been bothering Yuta. Did he feel uncomfortable with you? He's acting like a completely different person from who he was earlier today at the office. "I'm sorry? I don't know what to say..." You exhale, "We're friends, and friends hang out. Plus, I needed an excuse to get out of dinner with Johnny and Gyunghui." His face fell, a pang of guilt waving over him. Did he seriously think you were trying to get into his pants (He's not wrong)? God, who did he think he was, making such assumptions. "Oh- Fuck. Sorry Y/N. I don't know what got over me." He throws the blanket to the side before leaving the living room towards the bathroom. It wasn't supposed to hurt. I mean, you've always had these hidden feelings for Yuta, but you still treated him like you would to a friend. "Hey, I think I'm just really stressed with Jin Nyun. She's never home." He bellowed, pumping his fists into the air before letting out a stressed groan. "She's really getting under your skin, huh?" You say, "Deeper than I thought." He made his way back beside you. "Let's- Let's just play this movie." He massaged the back of his neck, now focused on the movie displayed on the flat-screen TV.

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"Y/N!" You pull the phone from your ear for a moment. Johnny was exceptionally loud at ten in the morning. He sounded like he had something urgent to tell you. But, you out of everyone had no time to listen to his girl talk, especially when you're in a meeting room with ELLE magazine staff, discussing your new line of clothing and having your collection featured in this month's issue. "You won't believe-" "Johnny! I have a job to do!!" You screech, hearing his apologies moments after. Ending the phone call, you enter the meeting room, "Sorry, where were we?" Assistant editor, Myeong-Ko set this meeting up with you to discuss your fall collection. "Since you've gained an audience over the past five years, we'd like to include you're best fashion pieces on our models and October issue."

Finally, you thought you'd be stuck in that meeting for ages! It's a little past noon, you are positive that Johnny's at home relaxing on his day off, you decide to call him back on your way to your late lunch with Yuta and Taeil. "Hello?" You are greeted by Johnny's panting voice with Gyunghui's giggles heard; not wanting to know what was going on the other end of the phone, you cut to the chase. "Johnny, what'd you want to tell me earlier?" You hear the 'Ou' loud and clear as he remembers and laughs aloud, "Guess who asked Doyoung out at a club in Ilsan?" You wrinkle your forehead, looking up at the sky, thinking. "No clue," "Jin Nyun!" Johnny said. Now, this was a disaster. You thought Jin Nyun had been smart enough to not cheat on her boyfriend with his old drinking mate. Did the news reach Yuta? "Did he tell him?" You asked hesitantly, "No, he told me to tell you to tell him." And with that, big brother Seo ended the call to return to doing god knows what with his wife. That's when you reached the front door of this eatery. Yuta gave you directions to this new Tteokbokki place, a ten-minute walk from the main street. You walked in, recognizing the blond from a mile away, eyes glued to his phone in the corner booth. "Y/N..." He said, standing up and brushing off the crumbs of what seemed like a cookie off his lap. He looked awful, the ache in your heart wondering who caused him such discomfort flamed the anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach. "Hey, hey. What's wrong?" You watch him slumped back into the seat, not bothering to sit in front of him, you went into the seat beside him. No matter how weird it looked, to be seated in a booth beside each other, it looked like he needed someone right now. He wore a Nike sweater with basketball shorts and sneakers. You bring your hand to his cheek to lift it and get a good look at him. A sharp pain filled your body, seeing his tear-stained cheeks. He wasn't okay. Looking all worn out and out of place wasn't Yuta. He was always looking ethereal to everyone else. Why did he look so helpless? "Let's go to my apartment, I live a few minutes away." You whisper, watching him nod softly.

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It's nearing seven in the early hours of the evening. Yuta hasn't left your living room couch since he just had his heartbroken. It seemed to be that Jin Nyun broke up over text with Yuta telling him he wasn't enough to satisfy her needs. He also mentioned her telling him she met someone a couple of months ago and has been seeing him, but didn't she try sleeping with Doyoung? "Yuta, stop sulking over a girl who doesn't even have her priorities straight." You said, closing the freezer door with another tub of green-tea ice cream. "One year." He mumbled, almost incoherent, "I gave up a year of my life to be cheated on for god knows how long!" He barks. You hand Yuta the ice cream, before standing there, thinking. What could cheer him up? "Oh! I know!" You run into your bedroom, walking out with a bowl. "Suki, say hi to Yuta. He's feeling down... Make him happy, please?" You ask the Betta fish in the bowl before placing her on the coffee table in front of Yuta. "Wha-What?" He expressed his amusement from your odd liking towards this redfish. "Say hi to Suki, Yuta!" You cheer before pointing at Suki. "You're kidding me?" You turn to look up at you, with your hands placed on either side of your hips, 'She wasn't kidding' he turns back and hunched over to look into the bowl "Hi Suki." 

"Are you still thinking about her?" You ask, nudging Yuta. "Surprisingly, no," He said, staring into the black screen. You raise a brow, curious. "I've been thinking about you." He sighs before looking at Suki, who was moved to the table beside the couch so she could 'get a better look at the movie.' "Oh?" This was interesting. Why would he think of you? Were you that significant to him now? "It's just that, you just took the day off... To take care of me." He mumbles. "It's not that big of a deal, I- you was hurt. Of course, I have to be there for you!" You fiddle with the blanket, "You're really important to me." The now tongue-tied boy's head shot up, turning to look at you. His bewildered face softened in moments before he gathered the courage to reply. "You're really important to me too." You rip the blanket off you, throwing it in Yuta's direction. "It's almost midnight. I think we need to eat dinner before bed." You tell him, making your way into the kitchen. "Before bed?" He asked. "You are spending the night, right?" You asked, stopping in your tracks. "Oh, Are you okay with that?" He asked, getting up and trailing behind you. You throw a quick 'Duh?' towards the boy earning a couple chuckles your way. He sat on the island stool, watching you pull together something some-what edible for you two tonight. "I want to apologize for the other night again, I shouldn't have assumed or acted like that," 'He said that out of the blue.' You though before scrunching up your face before cracking an egg, "I hope you like French toast." You say, dodging the unneeded apology.

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Nakamoto Enterprises. Never thought you'd walk into Yuta's building with a pair of jeans and a sweater. Most of your trips here were business-related, and you often showed up in a suit. "H-Hi Ms.S-Seo!" Yuta's assistant, Jungwoo, said, greeting you. "Hey Jungwoo, is Yuta out of his meeting yet? He promised me tacos," You said, rubbing your belly enthusiastically, earning a couple of giggles from the tall-boy. "Ah! I heard him mumble something about tacos earlier while fixing his dress-shirt." He said, remembering. Just then, you see Yuta walkout, Jungwoo covers his mouth, tilting towards you. "I heard he dyed his hair and got all dolled up for you Y/N, don't mess up." He said before waving goodbye and wandering off towards his associates. "New do?" You said, combing your fingers through Yuta's rosewood locks. "Just for you." He smiles before walking out with you. After his breakup with Jin Nyun, oddly, he's been on top of his game. You'd think you would have to take a week off to help the pain go away. You knew how much he loved her. Now? Now it was like the two of you had this new sort of bond.

What you weren't aware of was that Yuta has a new spot for you in his heart. Somewhere he held dear. Yuta never expected to move on that fast, but he knew you were always there, just waiting to break out and roam freely in his mind. You made his insides twist in a way Jin Nyun couldn't, but something in him knew it was too soon. "Something wrong?" You asked the boy zoning out at the red light, "No, I'm good." He replied, hand gripping the wheel. Although his mind was flooded with innocent, pure thoughts of you. Tonight, something in him wanted to tear you apart in his penthouse. Always chasing after something that didn't want to be chased after, or so he thought. "Can we get ice-cream... I finished the one at home." He contemplates what to do for a minute before answering proudly, "Nope!" He said. He looks so confident but, he almost melted when you called his place home. "Why not?!" "I'm cooking dinner." He replied, now focusing on the road. You huff and sit back in the seat, staring out the window. The beating in your heart, drumming loud in your ears. Is it possible he feels the same? Or is this way of coping without Jin Nyun... If you thought this evening couldn't get any better- you were wrong! Mark and Taeil decided to drop by while you hung around Yuta's suite. The four of you were feasting on the take-out the two boys brought over. Guess Yuta doesn't have to cook. "So, Mark, you're a producer?" You asked before taking a bite, "Yea, Johnny helps out sometimes." Oh? Johnny helping make music? I guess you could see that in a way, he does have a few specialties in the Arts. "Y/N! Congrats on ELLE, by the way!" Taeil interrupted loud and cheerfully. Your eyes crinkle at the sides while you show him a toothy grin. "I'm proud," Yuta said, bringing his hand up to ruffle your hair. 

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The winter chill settles in, as the streets were now covered in a thick blanket of white, footsteps and paw prints being crisscross along the sidewalks. You sported a simple city chic black coat pairing it with a white turtleneck long-sleeve sweater dress. You admit, though the layered clothing appeared to keep you all warm to the naked eye, your exposed legs seemed to be coated in goosebumps as you speeded towards the tall building. "No pants?" Haechan asked, handing you a coffee. "My mom's coming in today," You confess, Haechan's facial expression remained still as if he was already aware of your guest. "She's in your office, let me take your coat." You thank the younger boy before skipping into the elevator beside the main lobby. Before you reached the top floor, the lift stopped on the tenth floor. "Taeyong?" You ask, the man wearing a black mask with his suit. "Y/N? Oh my god, hey." Taeyong was a good friend of yours. He even works under you. Though you'd think having a comrade by your side while you are at your job, it had driven you two apart, both of you only meeting during promotional seasons. He was hired as one of your models and editors. Being successful, he often modelled for Taeil and Kun, another business associate of yours. Though losing a friend hurt horribly, you were still happy for Taeyong and his newfound profession. "Oh my god, I forget you're my boss sometimes," He said, removing his mask. "Haven't seen you in weeks." You chuckle softly before speaking, "We need to catch up, I heard you were the model for our ELLE issue, and you are going to star in an advertisement for Kun?" He nodded. "Kun wanted me and someone, named, Ten to star in the advertisement for his new diamond sets." Your mouth goes slightly agape at the mention of the name, immediately squealing to yourself. "Ten?! Ten Lee?!!! I've been begging his agency to have him model for us! How come Kun gets him that quick?!" Taeyong threw his head back slightly before erupting into a fit of laughter. You seriously were jealous, and it entertained the boy. The elevator stops on the 20th floor. "My stop. Good luck getting Ten. I'll tell him your hot. Maybe then he'll consider..." Taeyong joked before waving goodbye. The rest of the ride up was quiet. You made sure to fix the end of your dress before meeting with your mother. Exiting the chute, you made your way to make your mother a quick cup of coffee from the instant coffee machine. It was no macchiato but it'll make do. 

"Why are you late?" Your mother questioned once you walked into the room. "I was just getting you coffee," You voiced before walking and taking a seat in front of your desk. Taking files and shoving it out of the way. Handing her the coffee, you finally take a sip on your drink, which was now as cold as the snowfall this season. "So, Mom. What brings you here?" You asked. "Can't I visit my daughter?" She replies, offended. "No, you can't." You scoff, "What do you want?" You interrogate, and that's when you see her shoulders drop as she grips the coffee cup. You knew it. "Listen, sweetheart..." You hum, she continues. "It's ... It's just that you're almost 25! An unmarried chairwoman is humiliating. I don't want Johnny or your father to be ashamed of you, so get your shit together is I give your hand in marriage to another man." Your mother scoffs, the innocent facade fading. Though she had no right to talk to you like that, it felt like a slap in the face. You thought that was the end of it, but no. She had more to get off her chest. "You're friends with Mr.Nakamoto, Mr. Kim, Moon, and that model kid Taeyong. All single. Yet you're still single. Get your shit together, Y/N. I can't always run after you-" "Leave." You were now standing up from the little office chair, pointing towards the door. This was wrong. You shouldn't be disrespectful to someone attempting to fix your own mistakes right? "Farewell then, Goodluck." Unfazed, she exits while you stood in the empty room, the silent room. The only detectable noises were the sound of hurried footsteps, the squeak of doors and the printers from co-workers. 

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Saturday nights were known for the shenanigans Yuta, and you pulled. Though tonight, the two of you decided on dressing like sophisticated businesswomen and men, like you weren't already! Come on, you two are multimillionaires. Now, heading to Ryunique, a Fusion restaurant along Gangnam-gu. Today, you squeezed into the most elegant dress in your wardrobe. A black short tulle-skirt lace dress, the double-layered stand-up collar. Especially with your partner in crime who decided on wearing a black satin button-up dress shirt with black pants and his long hair slicked back. You two were the main attraction of the night for sure. "What if we pretended to have American accents?" You joked, exiting the car. "We don't even know English Y/N." The two of you broke into small fits of laughter. "All right, enough jokes. Let's head in." Patting the ends of your dress, you fix the watch on your wrist and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good evening," The tall man at the front desk immediately greeted, standing up and walking towards you two. "Hello, we've got reservations." He clicks his tongue before grabbing the laptop on the desk and placing it on the counter. "Name?" "Mr. and Mrs.Nakamoto." Okay, maybe you two took it too far, to look like a dirty rich couple coming to shower money on these restaurant folks, but it was all in good fun! 

Did wealthy people seriously come here to spend hundreds on Pork Belly, Jowl and Shrimps? Damn right! It was delicious, "Yuta. Give me a bite, please...!!" You beg him. He ordered Beef and Salmon. In other words, tonight's special. "Finish what's on your plate first, Mrs.Nakamoto." He tells you, smiling, before cutting a piece of his Beef and placing it onto your plate. Since when were you so spoilt. By Yuta out of everyone. "I can't believe you made it seem like we were married," You said snickering. "I wasn't going to do that at first, but something about 'Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto' sounded nice." He plays with the leftover salad on the plate, "It has a nice tone to it, right?" If you weren't in a five-star restaurant, you would've choked, but in attempts to keep your cool at Yuta's shameless behaviour in public, you look up and give a smile. "Mhm! Perfect, we should use it more often!" There you were, fighting fire with fire. "Y/N- You can't just-!?" He stops in the middle of his sentence to fill his mouth with the salad. "Check!" He calls out, as you sit there playing with an olive. You sure do have him wrapped around your finger. Sadly, even Saturdays come to an end. "Shouldn't the guy be walking the girl home?" Yuta asked. "Right? I was thinking that. I guess I'm the man here." Playfully Yuta nudged you. Before pulling you close, his arm envelopes around you. "I'm a man." He assures more to himself than you, "Sure..." Dragging your feet towards Yuta's doorstep, you let out a yawn. "Oh god, I gotta play the man role now." He mumbles before unlocking his front door. "You're sleeping over. Can't have my damsel walk out alone in the dark." He whispers to your half-asleep figure leaning on the doorframe, dozing away. 

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Your nose scrunches as your eyes take in every ray of light, and without a doubt, you know you've slept in today. What day was it? Was it still morning or past noon? Where is your phone? Wait, where were you? It took a little adjusting for your tired eyes to realize you were in Yuta's bedroom. Oh, you must have slept over. Looking to your right, you see shirtless Yuta, sprawled across the bed. Hold on. Catching a double-take on what you are looking at... shirtless Yuta... God is on your side today. He turns his head over, an evident smirk displayed. “Like what you see?” He asked, “As if!” You reply, taking the pillow from underneath your head and throwing it at him. “I’m gonna shower, make breakfast will ya?” You request, before marching into his bathroom. ‘What's that smell’ you wonder, skipping into the open kitchen. You’ve always admired the interior of Yuta’s place. Modern yet cozy. “I hope you’re craving egg fried rice.” Yuta said which you happily replied with a hungry growl. “Hungry as a hippo today!” You make your way behind him. You have this urge to back hug him, to wrap your slender arms around his waist, indulging in his scent. “Wh-What are you doing?” Yuta asked. He felt a shock when you wrapped around him, nuzzling yourself into his neck. “I don’t know..” You confess, before it hit you. “Oh my god..! I didn’t even know if you were okay with that! I am such a perv, why’d you go hug him Y/N! Stupid, Stupid, Stupid...” You didn’t realize it there but Yuta turned off the stove when he turned around to grab your wrist from leaving, pulling you back into his embrace. This time he wraps his arms around you, pushing your head into his warm chest. His hand made it’s way to pet your head for a moment before he broke the embrace, the two of you got a glimpse at one another, safe to say he feels the same right? Yuta turns to reach up at the cabinet to serve the two of you. Walking over to his dining table he places the plates while you get some water. “Eat up Mrs.Nakamoto” He chirps, before sitting. 

“Yuta I’m gonna wear your sweater!” You shout from his closet, “Mkay!” He replies. Yuta and you decided on skipping work, and spending your Sunday relaxing in his suite. Grabbing his basketball shorts and sweater you tie an extra tight knot on the waist so you didn’t have to hold it whenever you needed to move settings. “Wow, so cute.” He flirts watching you being swallowed by his clothing. “C’mere,” He pats a spot beside him, which you gladly accepted sitting cuddled up beside him. The two of you have still not confronted one another with the fact your feelings were now out in the open. He knew how deeply in-love you were with him, it was getting so hard to hide.. It kind of just, spilt. Yuta only confirmed his by hugging you back. It was more so a silent confession between the two of you. The promise to be with one another till the end of time being hidden somewhere in that heartwarming moment in the kitchen. “So, are we like?” You start, looking up at him to see him nodding with an eye crinkling smile. “Good.” You state, punching the air in victory. He places a kiss on the top of your head. A thank you. 

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A year ago, today. You and Nakamoto Yuta came clean about your growing feelings for one another. Now you were happily in love. Work was the same as always. Only a few changes this year had occurred. Johnny, finally becoming a father. Taeyong had been promoted and was now working more flexibly, letting the two of you hang out. Lastly, but not least, you and Yuta. Not a peep from your mother since that day at the office and no word from Jin Nyun either. You've noticed her attempting to rekindle a spark on multiple occurrences, but as foretold, Yuta steered clear. Now you were living happily, right? Wrong.

It’s not everyday that your best friend comes back from the dead. On April 23rd, 2011, 15-year-old, Jaehyun, had been announced dead in a fatal car accident. The car drove off the Banpo Bridge in the middle of the night, which led the authorities to believe he was drunk driving. There was hope he was still out there, but as the years progressed, you lost hope. Jaehyun’s dream was to become a designer. Though you’ve always wanted to become an interior designer, in a way to pay your respects, you’ve followed his desired path. But, to say the least, you learnt to love this path. It’s where you met Yuta and the people you can call your closest. Now, almost ten years later. You receive a call. "Hello?" On the other end of the line, you could hear soft breaths. Feeling a little uneasy, you call Yuta. Who was idling on the couch, silently over to listen to whatever was going on? "Hello? Who is this?" You ask once more. The breathing halts and, you hear a flimsy cough, "Is this Y/N?" You look over to Yuta, who seemed concerned. "Y-Yes." You answer. The man laughs wholeheartedly for a minute too long before a pause. "Who is this?" You asked, "Jung Jae-" "Don't even finish. Is this some sort of cruel joke?! Who are you!?" You were furious. Yuta backs away to watch from a distance, but ready to comfort you if anything. "Who said I was joking? 66-2 Gongpyeong-dong, Jung-gu, Daegu. Thursday night." He finished with a smooching noise at the end of the line. He ends the call, and you adjust your seat on the island stool. "Jaehyun's dead, right?" You mumble to yourself, still audible to an oblivious Yuta. "Baby? Tell me what's on your mind. You know I'm here," He doesn't know Jaehyun. In fact, he has no clue about how you were in the past. The heartbreaks you've had. "Jaehyun." Yuta furrows his brows. Who is Jaehyun? A past lover, perhaps? Hopping off the stool, you make your way towards the master bedroom. Pulling out a duffle bag from underneath the bed. Although this phone call seemed like some sort of sick set-up, you couldn't help it. A small portion of you knew there could be a chance Jaehyun was still alive. 'Johnny and Jaehyun were friends too,' You thought. He must've been informed about his whereabouts if he was alive. Ding. Perfect timing, such an emotional time, being interrupted. Yuta calls you from the door.

"It's Johnny!" 

The timing couldn’t be any better. Just in, that your elder brother had gotten a text, similar to the call you received. He ran into the bedroom, seeing you packing. Turning around, you noticed his suitcase in hand. “Did he?” Johnny questioned. How could he believe a mere text from an unknown number? You scoff, “Yea, I got a call, I don’t buy it though. He’s dead.” You fumed. “Then why are you packing?” He interrogated. He’s right, why were you? “I-I-I don’t know! Just- Just get in the car.” You throw the keys of your minivan off the bed towards Johnny, who catches it, happily. “Apparently I don’t exist. What the hell is going on!?” Yuta roared. Stopping your actions, you walk over to the boy standing behind Johnny. “Jung Jaehyun died in a fatal car accident in 2011. Someone is claiming that he’s alive.” You answered, watching his expression change from dumbfounded to intrigued. “Why does his death concern you guys?” He asked. “He is-was, my best friend.” Yuta brings his hand down towards your hand, grabbing to caress it with his finger. He could only imagine how dreadful this might be, “When he died... Did they find his body?” He asked. Cautiously. You suck in your breath in realization. No, they didn’t. Looking up to Johnny with a glint of hope glistening in your eyes. Was he really alive? “Go, I’ll take care of work.” He says after wrapping his arms around you. “Thank you." You whisper before grabbing Johnny and walking out. Yuta sighs, "She forgot her bag." He said to himself.

"We have to catch the next train Daegu." You say to Johnny, driving. "I booked our tickets as soon as I got the text. We board in two hours." Prepared as always. Johnny drives over the highway, lights on full beam. You watched how the bright lights played in the pouring rain. This was going to be the only time. You'd be close to relaxing before the next chain of events. But all your mind wandered to was Yuta. How Yuta was doing was your main concern as of now. You're nowhere near understanding how he must feel right now. "He's fine," Johnny interjected, knowing that face you made. "I hope so. We went from watching Netflix to this." You whisper. "It's Yuta, Y/N. He understands." He assured.

Now, here you were in a small but nicely decorated cafe on the outskirts of Daegu. It was Thursday morning, you weren't meeting potential Jaehyun until later this evening. But to take extra measures, you came by earlier to rent the cafe for the evening. Paying was generous. Johnny mentioned he'd be visiting his friend, and for you to fill him in on what went on tonight. He wasn't being selfish, leaving the work to you. It was more selfless than selfish. Johnny knows how much of a role Jaehyun paid to your life before and after.  So leaving your first meeting after ten years to just the two of you was all you could've asked for. "Excuse me! Ms.Seo?" The cafe owner calls for you. "Since your guest won't arrive until later tonight, why don't I make you some brunch?" She offers, "Please? Haven't eaten since last night," You two share a small laugh before she heads off into the kitchen.'You're early.' A shiver ran down your spine as you read the notification.  Jheez, couldn't Jaehyun just enter like a human and not some creepy pedophile. Came all the way from Seoul to see you, can't you be normal? 'Come in?' You hit send. Good thing you were meeting on a full stomach, or else you’d be a little over emotional. What’d he look like? Did he still had the shy boy persona? Or has he grown out of it? The questions that flooded your mind were interrupted by the chime of a bell, indicating someone has entered. “Y/N I missed you” 

Meanwhile, at Nakamoto Enterprises. "Jaehyun. Jaehyun. Jaehyun. Jaehyun." The name lingered Yuta's mind. Did he know him from somewhere? "Jungwoo!" He shouts for his assistant, who dashes in. "Yes?!" Yuta looks out the bay windows, contemplating his own move. "Jung Jaehyun. Who is he?" He asked, still gazing at the rainy window. "He is one of the three founders of JYX Co. He requested a meeting with you last month, something about investing." Jungwoo said, reading off the tablet in hand. Impossible. If he died, then why? He must've been trying to score a meeting with Yuta after hearing about his relationship with you. But that’s not where he knows Jaehyun from, is it? 

Sitting in an empty coffee shop with your proclaimed dead best friend was horrifying but still patched up a hole in that broken heart of yours. “Can’t believe it's you...” You said happily, towards Jaehyun. He grew. Going from the lanky fifteen-year-old to a well built and sophisticated man. After rekindling the friendship, he mentioned what happened that night. "Everything you heard is correct, I drove off the Banpo bridge." He started. "But I was pulled out by this older man by the shore. He took me in and brought me to his place in Daegu." He stops to look up at you. "So, you just decided to start new?" You ask. He nods. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring myself to come home. I'm sorry for what I put you through." He apologized. Though a regular person would've been fuming at the fact he just up and left. You were just relieved. "It's okay, Jae. You're here now." You smile, continuing. "I became a designer for you, and frankly, I'm loving it." He laughs, grasping your hand resting on the table. "I know, I've been keeping tabs on you." He confesses. "So, Nakamoto Yuta." He says, watching your cheeks redden. "What about him?" You huff, in a childish manner. "One year? When is he gonna put a damn ring on it?!" He joked, watching you cover your face. "I don't know..." You mumble, "Anyways, Johnny's at Minhyuk's place. Wanna go?" 

⋆

"I knew you sounded familiar," Yuta spoke, seeing Jaehyun walk-in with you this afternoon. "Huh?" What was he going on about? "That's the first thing you say when you see me? No 'I miss you'?" Jaehyun mused but laughed aloud when Yuta hands him a strawberry shake. "No, but is that enough?" He threw a wink, "Still remembering my favourite drink too, huh?" Jaehyun said. You stood behind, dumbfounded. "Hold on... You two know each other?" You question amazed. "Oh yea, Yuta was my roommate in uni." Yuta made his was beside you, making sure to give you a tight hug before a kiss, which made Jaehyun and Johnny gag. You sit on the large living room couch, Yuta's arm wrapped around you. Jaehyun on your other side, sharing a bag of chips with you. A film you were definitely not paying attention to playing on the screen, too distracted in your thoughts. Jaehyun was home. You were home in Yuta's arms. The two most important men back in your life. If you heard this was how you'd end up, you wouldn't believe it. The chances of getting together with Nakamoto Yuta. A name with millions of dollars tied to it, and finding your best friend again, Jaehyun, whom you thought was gone forever. Whatever you did in your past life, seriously paid off. 

This is my happily ever after.

[astromechs]

keep whatever it is (that's compelling you on)

HERE IT IS, my matrix resurrections spec fic, completed and in under the wire before the trailer! i think i'm ready to quit fussing over this, and i'm really excited to get it out into the world!

also here on ao3!

01.

Every single morning, Thomas A. Anderson is jolted awake at approximately 8:15 AM by the shrill of the same alarm, shovels in the same shitty cereal before stumbling into one of the same five shitty suits that he has to remember to get dry-cleaned, takes the same seat on the subway on the way to work — where he sits in the same chair for eight hours straight with minimal breaks, staring at his computer screen (or, more often, out into nothing) until it’s time to take the same subway back to his shitty apartment, order from the same rotation of shitty takeout, and find some mindless, banal distraction while he ignores texts that don’t even matter anyway before he falls asleep to eventually wake up and do it all over again.

It’s nothing special — just the average life of an average mid-grade programmer at the average tech conglomerate. Comfortable, sure, and a dream many would kill to achieve; he knows this, knows this every time he passes the poor old woman who’s feeding pigeons in her ratty coat from the battered metal bench on the sidewalk in front of his apartment building. He slips her whatever spare change he has on him — a $20 bill, on the days he’s lucky, but often less than that — and, without fail, she always accepts, with a warm smile and kind eyes that seem to stare right into his soul, seeing the deepest parts of it.

Like she knows him. And that’s what’s weird.

He tries not to put too much thought into it, because, honestly, he tries not to put too much thought into anything at all; he’s found that to be the most effective way to navigate the machine that systematically runs his rhythmic, mundane life.

But even so, there are things that he knows he can’t shake.

One afternoon in late February, when the cut of the wind had not remotely suggested that spring would just be a month away, he’d passed the woman on the bench as always, but he could’ve sworn that the whole flock of pigeons scattered on the sidewalk at her feet had frozen for a split second. Like they’d been… glitching. In a blink, everything had returned to normal, and he’d spent about three days (and three sleepless nights) trying to convince himself he’d been seeing things, that he’d just been spending too much time actually working on his assigned program for once and that maybe he should take some of his accumulated vacation days? And the following week, he had, but….

No time off to try to clear his head would ever change the fact that this hadn’t been an isolated incident.

Because sometimes — he swears he sees pieces of code fall through his field of vision; a blink and then they’re gone, but it happens too often not to be a pattern, and no matter how much he might want to for the sake of his own sanity, he can’t just brush that aside. Sometimes, flashes come to his mind like barely-remembered dreams, in idle moments and just on the edge of the line that separates sleep from waking consciousness, so real that he knows they’re memories. Dark tunnels that haven’t seen the sun for centuries. Cold, so cold that no amount of warmth, human or otherwise, can really combat. Running, desperately bounding up the fire escape to the third floor of a rundown motel, three men in sunglasses and perfectly-tailored suits in close pursuit, his heart pounding in his ears so loudly he can barely hear the phone ring from Room 303, the place he has to get to, because everything depends on it. A barrage of bullets in his chest, one right after the other, back slumping against the wall as his heart gives out, vision fading to grey and then to black, but a voice, reaching through it all to call him, tether him….

Neo.

There are things that he knows he can’t shake, and sometimes, he thinks he had another life. Another name.

Another purpose.

He’s haunted by the ghost of it.

It’s the second of April — at least, that’s what the screen of his phone tells him, because otherwise he wouldn’t know, or care to know. A Friday, and all the faceless commuters are packed like sardines into this subway car, headed home for weekends that are sure to be as inconsequential as his own. Today, he has to stand holding the rail for the ride home; a woman trying to juggle both a baby and two bags of groceries had just barely managed to stumble onto the train before the doors had closed, and he’d sprung up, more than glad to give up his seat to someone in greater need.

She tries to thank him, profusely and repeatedly, but with where he’s standing, he would have to twist to keep facing her, so, with a nod and the barest hint of a smile, he turns away to spend the trip the way he always does: in solitude.

The route back to the station just down the block from his apartment building is never smooth, by any stretch of the imagination, but today, it’s bumpier than usual; the train car jerks and jostles, until, eventually, it sends him colliding into back of the passenger standing next to him.

He’s just about to stammer out some automatic, awkward apology, but then —

Blue eyes meet his, clear, crisp blue, and a jolt strikes him right to the core.

He thinks — no, he knows, he knows — he’s seen these eyes.

Neo. In the darkest corners of his mind, the voice whispers again.

Time freezes, glitches, around him, around him and this stranger with familiar blue eyes. He sees the light leave them, and then come right back. He sees warmth, what something is telling him had once been the only thing able to keep the cold of the real away; that warmth spreads through now, to the tips of him, and he has a sense, one he doesn’t entirely understand, that something has just clicked into place.

Behind sunglasses, another pair of eyes watches them from across the car.

“You all right?” Neo.

He sees brows knit in concern, and for the first time, he pays attention to the face that the eyes belong to. Probably the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in… more than one life, he’d have to guess, is now in front of him; he isn’t so detached and disconnected that he doesn’t notice that. Her short dark hair is cut into a severe bob, and she’s dressed in black from head to toe — from her coat and gloves, to her boots. It suits her, somehow.

After a beat, he finally remembers to speak. “Yeah. I — sorry.” The subway jerks to a halt; he glances up, and adds quickly, after clearing his throat, “This is… my stop. Excuse me. Sorry.”

Pushing past her, pushing past everyone in his way, he disembarks to the station, and when his feet touch solid pavement, he takes off at a sprint. Up the stairs (third floor… Room 303….), down the sidewalk (agents, just behind… he can beat them, if he just runs faster than he ever has…), not stopping until the mundane certainty of his shitty apartment building is within his sights.

Just before he makes it safely inside, he catches a glimpse of the old woman on the bench watching him, her smile wider than he’s ever seen it. Maybe, even, almost inhumanly wide.

10.

Her name is Natalie.

That’s what he learns about a week later, when he bumps into her again in front of the grocery store on the corner down from the subway station, the one he always chooses out of convenience. Quite literally; he’s distracted, disconnected, and before he even knows what’s happening, he’s collided with another body, contents of the two bags under his arms spilling out onto the sidewalk. His apologies are hurried and stammered, but her hands are gentle as she moves to help, brushing his more than once. Her smile is soft when their eyes meet.

Over the next several months, he learns a lot of other things, too.

He learns that she takes her coffee with cream and no sugar, and that she always leaves the barista a generous tip. He learns that she’s a genius with tech, better than him and his two computer science degrees and half-cushy corporate job could ever hope to be, and has his whole apartment practically rewired in an hour one day. He learns that if he’s quiet and still, her black cat has no qualms with being his friend. He learns that her lips curve up in just a certain way and her eyes crinkle when she’s just about to laugh.

And he learns that kissing her feels like coming home, as familiar and peaceful as it is new and strange. He learns that with her, coming together, becoming one with another person, is like nothing else.

For the first time in what he can remember, he knows what it feels like to be alive.

(Only it isn’t… is it? The first time. Somehow, just like he knows that he sees the same person walk past him twice, like he knows that those glitches start happening on a near-daily basis, like he knows that the old woman on the bench is smiling at him more broadly than ever….

Their lives have collided, and given each other meaning, purpose, before.)

11.

In his dreams, he sees a city entirely built from light. Spires touch the sky like fireworks, blindingly bright, and with every step, flames ripple out from his feet, making the next one all too clear.

Inevitable.

This is where his path had always led.

In his dreams, he can’t see her face. He can only hear struggling gasps for breath, and a voice that only grows shakier. He can only feel the metal that pierces her stomach, the blood that pools on her shirt. The faint heartbeat he can do nothing to restart.

Inevitable.

(You were right, Smith. You are always right.)

He wakes with a start, drenched in a cold sweat (as cold as their last kiss), gasping for breath. Next to him on the bed, Natalie stirs and shifts closer; when he reaches out a tentative hand, lets his fingers graze over her stomach, she’s warm.

His eyes scrunch tightly shut. Code falls behind his lids like the rain that patters against the windows outside.

100.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary on this day in early fall. A breeze rustles the trees as they walk hand in hand through the park, and provides the first hint that cooler weather is on the way. Children’s laughter from the nearby playground fills the air. Dogs chase each other on the grass. Natalie sips her coffee, cream with no sugar; they enjoy the contented silence that falls between them, only punctuated by her soft smile.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary — except for everything that is.

They meet each other’s eyes, her blue to his brown, and in an instant, everything changes.

It’s hard to tell who sees it first, but — the flash of recognition envelops both of them. Vague memories, the ones that have floated over him like a constant cloud, just out of reach, are in his hands, in his brain, in his heart. He’d had another life once, another name. And it’d been —

“Neo.”

She whispers it on an awed breath, tears forming in her eyes. The coffee cup slips from her grasp, long since forgotten; she lifts that hand to his face, fingers tracing the rise of his cheekbone.

Tears swim in his vision, too, tears and strands of code, falling. Falling. Nothing makes sense and yet everything makes sense, no more so than when the name falls out of his mouth, the last piece of a particularly jumbled puzzle: “Trinity.”

But a thousand words he doesn’t know how to say don’t even begin to get a chance to form. He feels the eyes watching them more than he sees them; both hands drop to his sides, and he tenses, ready to fight.

He’s barely aware that the old woman who’s usually on the bench near his apartment building approaches on the sidewalk. She looks between them, nods, and:

“They’re coming, kiddo,” she tells him, voice severe, with none of her usual warmth, as she grips his arm. “You need to run.”

101.

At sunset, a man in a white suit, tall and imposing, joins the old woman on a park bench near the playground, but says nothing; from all appearances, it looks as though he barely acknowledges her at all. They remain, just like this, as people filter out one by one under the steadily darkening sky, returning to their lives.

They always remain through every iteration, the Mother and Father of the Matrix.

Preoccupied with purpose and the inefficiency of wasting time, as is his programming, the Father is the first to break the silence.

"I informed you it was a dangerous game.”

The Oracle says nothing in response.

She merely smiles.

[hoe-doroki]

We’ll See

Happy birthday, to my sweet boy, Kiri. Glad I managed to just barely get this out in time for you.

pairing: Kirishima x demisexual!fem!reader

genre: gen, light romance, light fluff, light comfort

word count: 6.3k

summary: After a fateful meeting where he saves you from a villain attack, you and Kirishima keep running into each other. And although he’s so nice, you only feel fear around the fact that he might be interested in you. Even though all you want is, for once, to let yourself be happy and maybe fall in love, you can’t seem to be able to. You just can’t.

a/n: I’ve been trying to think about what a comfort fic might look like for a demi reader because romance stories never match my lived experience and sometimes make me feel worse. I think I’ve finally managed something here. I hope this provides comfort to anyone who has difficult romantically/sexually for any reason, especially those of us who are acespec. My ask box is always open for acespec or similar requests as well. <3

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

For a moment, you thought it was hail. Little flecks of white—not quite white, really—falling from the sky at a more precipitous pace than snow, and bigger, more irregular. More dangerous.

Then, when you looked up, you didn’t know how you’d missed it.

You were always attentive when walking in the city, even in your Sisyphean commute to work: home, walk, train, walk, work, day after day. You held your bag close on your shoulder, had your pepper spray at the ready, and didn’t bother changing into heels until you got to the office. You always had your eyes on the surroundings, so, just before it happened, you could have told the cops that it had been a lovely spring day, white and pink flowers just beginning to bloom, but still jacket weather—not at all a day for hail. The streets had been congested with people just like you, all headed to work or school. The woman in front of you had been wearing a brightly striped sweater, standing out against the sea of black suits.

Then, concrete had begun raining down.

You looked up in time to see a slab from one of the old concrete buildings give way, suddenly casting shade right where you were standing. And the next thing you knew, you were on your back, and there was a man on top of you. Your first thought was that he must have been a dragon. Hard scales, sharp teeth, all jagged edges sharp enough to scratch grooves into the pavement below. He could kill you in an instant.

His arms were caged around you covered in fabric. But upon closer look at his exposed neck, you saw he didn’t have scales; his skin was like rock. Rocks that hadn’t yet been touched by the erosion of wind or water. They were new ones that were unbroken.

It took a moment of stillness, a moment of him trembling under the weight of the concrete wall for you to realize he wasn’t here to brutalize you—he was saving you. And when you realized that, your brain snapped into focus. There was chaos around you—you could hear the screams. Maybe they were civilians who were worried that you’d just been flattened to a pancake, but maybe they had greater fears than that. There was probably a villain on the loose, and this hero was wasting his time on you—just one person.

“Go!” you shouted, making eye contact with him for the first time. Red eyes like uncut rubies encased in cracked ivory. “I’ll be fine!”

For a moment, he struggled to lift the broken remnant of the building off of you both, but then you honed your focus. You stared at the concrete and it lifted off of the hero’s back, watched as his shoulders settled in relief. He looked at you in confusion for a second, taking in your furrowed brow and tense mouth, frozen body. Then, he took you in his arms and carried you to safety before you gasped, and the concrete fell with a smash.

He left you gasping on the sidewalk and ran into the fray, where it looked like a villain with a power-up quirk had crashed through the office building onto the sidewalk, where they were now wreaking havoc.

Someone offered a hand to help you up and you took it. Telekinesis always took a lot out of you, especially when an object was as heavy as, oh, say, a side of a building, but you shook it off as best you could, just focusing on getting your breathing under you.

More pro heroes were turning up, either drawn by the noise or the masses of pedestrians fleeing the area. The latter of which was exactly what you should have been doing.

But you couldn’t.

You’d never desired to be a pro hero. Yeah, you admired them, but as a job it sounded, well, awful? Seeking out trouble, always in danger of major corporeal damage, a constant target on your back—you’d never be able to handle the stress. You desired consistency in your life and, even if it wasn’t saving the world, an office job gave you that. Still, you’d always told yourself that if you even found yourself in a situation where you could help, where your quirk would be useful and it would be a net gain for you to stay instead of run, you would help. It was your duty.

Awfully hard to live up to when the situation actually came, though.

“Get out of here!” you said to the guy who’d helped you up as you staggered forward, hands on your knees. You were fine, you were standing. You didn’t have to fight—you absolutely shouldn’t fight—but if there was anyone who needed your help, you’d provide it.

As you pushed yourself up straight, the guy threw you one last look and then joined the crowd running from the scene while you stood, planted in it.

The fight was moving away from the building as multiple heroes took on the one huge villain, whose club-like arms were able to send them flying back before anyone could restrain him. But that was perfect. The building was still crumbling and you could check if anyone was stuck.

As you got closer, it looked as though you’d been the one hit by the biggest piece of debris—which, frankly, was a miracle. You were likely the one person in the crowd with any chance of surviving that, and the red-eyed hero had been there to save you anyway. But there was a lamppost that had been knocked over, thankfully pulled out of the ground so you could hold your breath and levitate it, vision just turning black around the edges as you dropped it harmlessly back to the ground. The victim likely had a broken leg, but some others managed to haul them out of the fray and hopefully to a hospital. One person saved.

The move left you capsized, back on your knees as you blinked color back into your vision. Fortunately, there wasn’t too much rubble—not yet, anyway—so all else there was to do was find a couple of the people who’d been knocked down or injured and send them out of the line of fire to where someone else could take care of them. You could use your quirk to keep back, not have to get too dangerously close to the fray in order to help these people. So you did your best to stay in the shadows of the punched-out building where there’d be no attention on you. Each time left you strained, but not broken. You just needed a little rest, and then you could keep moving.

You’d fallen to hands and knees after the last person, wheezing greedy gulps of dusty air. It felt like there were hands around your chest, squeezing palms against your heart and thick fingers against your throat. You weren’t practiced enough with your quirk to move this many heavy things successively, but you’d also never overused your quirk before. Never had to. You didn’t know where the line was, but so long as you were conscious, you’d keep moving.

But you felt lightheaded. The weight was suddenly off of your knees and wrists and you wondered if you were about to faint. Suddenly, the you felt a new compression around your waist as you were flipped upright, and you opened your eyes, looking down to see gray, damp skin pressed against your middle, and your feet dangling off the ground.

Oh, shit.

This was why civilians weren’t supposed to get involved when villains were around. You could become a liability for the heroes. Now they wouldn’t be able to fight all out against the villain, because you were effectively a meat shield. A hostage.

This wasn’t a net gain. Sure, you’d saved a handful of people, but now the villain couldn’t be caught. They had more power than just their quirk—they had leverage.

You thought quickly. You weren’t going to be the reason these heroes’ mission failed. You needed to take control of the situation so that no one else would get hurt. You needed to get the net gain back on your side.

You closed your eyes and took a couple breaths. After one last big one, you sent the villain up in the air, and you with it. As your ears began to ring, the last thing you heard were worried cries rumbling out from the chest you were pressed against. You felt the air as you both rose up in the sky, and then their arms loosened around you.

And then, you began to fall.

The next thing you heard was beeping. Gentle, even beeping to the rhythm of your gentle, even breaths. You weren’t heaving, weren’t gasping anymore. You must have been feeling better.

You took a breath and tried to push yourself up, instantly regretting it as your ears began to ring. Again. Suddenly, you remembered where you’d just been, what you’d just done.

Ugh, you were an idiot.

“Woah, you okay?”

You cracked your eyes open and saw a man in front of you. Definitely not a doctor, if his total lack of a shirt was anything to go by. You could feel your heartbeat in both ears, pulsing like a rock concert and waking up a headache you hadn’t realized you had. You closed your eyes and relaxed back down again.

“I’m okay,” you tried, but your voice came out all raspy. You wondered if dust had come out with it, expelling like smoke from your dry lungs.

“Here, let me get you some water.”

You blinked your eyes open and saw a straw being held up to your lips. You craned your neck up enough to purse your lips around it and took a small sip. Better.

The man in front of you had strange cuffs on his shoulders and something almost like a cape around his waist. But when you saw the wire piece around his face, you were finally able to place him.

“You’re the rock dragon,” you said.

The man laughed and you saw how young he was. When he’d been in his rocky form he could have been any age. No wrinkles or actual hair to go by. But now it was obvious that he was likely in his early twenties, just like you. Impressive for him to be a hero.

“Rock dragon?” he echoed. “I’ll take that.”

“Did you guys get the villain?”

That’s all you wanted to know. It didn’t really matter what had happened to you—evidently you were in one piece, so it was all but irrelevant.

The hero nodded. “They’re locked up, not too many major injuries on the scene. Thanks to you.”

“Urgh,” you groaned. “I’m so sorry. Usually I don’t do stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what?” he asked. “Save the day?”

“No, just…” You were glowing under his praise, but you didn’t want to. What you’d done had been idiotic and so easily could have gone sideways. More so than it seemed like it had. “I’m not usually so impulsive.”

“Must be good to know that you have good impulses then,” he said. “Although, I gotta ask, what was your plan there at the end?”

Plan? There hadn’t been any plan, and judging by his cheeky smile, bumping one cheekbone up against his wire mask, he realized that.

“I figured if I levitated that villain, then they wouldn’t be able to do any damage to anyone except me,” you said. “Of course, then there were a million questions about what could happen after, but the worst case scenario was that only both of us got hurt.”

“Very self-sacrificing,” he said. “You should be a hero. Although, we usually have to get the self-sacrificing impulses beat out of us a bit. But still, you’ve got the quirk for it. I have a friend who’s got a similar one. The world would love you.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head and feeling your brain slap against each side of your skull. “I think this was my first and last foray.”

He clutched his heart jokingly. “Oof, really one to break hearts, aren’t you?”

You froze. Suddenly the pulse that had been between your ears and behind your eyes moved back to your chest and was squeezing uncomfortably. Had he been saying that flirtatiously? Was it a joke you were just taking too seriously? Did this guy just use his hero costume to lay a bunch of girls and you should be kicking him out before he got any ideas?

“I’m really not,” you mumbled, reaching for the water glass again and drinking from it yourself. You felt the tug of an IV hooked up to your arm and you were only part way through the drip. You were stuck, unable to go anywhere until it was done. The good news was, your limbs felt generally fine. Just a little stiff and achy. The only real pain was in your head—the aftermath of using a psychic quirk.

“No,” Kirishima agreed. “You seem too nice for that. And, hero or not, the world was really lucky to have you today. So I just wanted to thank you for helping and, you know, make sure you were okay.”

“I think I’m okay,” you said.

“That’s what the doctor said,” he confirmed. “I’m just glad I caught you.”

So that’s what had happened. You weren’t sure if you’d passed out before or after the villain had landed, but you remembered focusing on trying to lower them to the ground slowly before everything had gone black. But you couldn’t use your telekinesis on yourself, so you’d resigned yourself to plunging to the ground. Not that you’d had much time to make peace with it.

“Sorry you had to save me twice,” you mumbled.

“I’ll save you as many times as I need to.”

Okay, that definitely felt like flirting. His smile was so open and genuine—he didn’t look like a fuckboy, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t want him interested in you, even if he was a hero. Even if he was attractive. Even if he was nice. You couldn’t deal with it. So you put the water back and pursed your lips awkwardly, unsure what to say.

“Oh, I’m Red Riot, by the way,” he said, extending a hand towards you.

You took it, feeling how callused his hand was. It wasn’t hard, like it had looked back when he’d been made of rock and gemstone, but had the feel of a fighter. Yours were soft as a baby’s. “Y/N,” you said.

“I know,” Red Riot said with a grin—his teeth were sharp even when he wasn’t transformed. “We found your ID in your wallet when you were being admitted. So you’re not a Jane Doe.”

“Oh.”

You supposed that was comforting. If you had fallen and broken every bone in your body, at least your family would have found out.

Your attention was diverted when someone walked into your room—a woman in a white coat and definitely wearing a shirt. This must be the doctor.

“Red Riot, you were supposed to press the button when she woke up,” the doctor chastised, though her voice was light.

“Sorry, doc, I was just seeing if she was lucid,” he said with a grin. “She remembers her name and everything that happened.”

“Right,” the doctor said, not looking especially amused. Still, there was a friendly energy between the two of them, and you wondered if heroes had close relationships with hospital staff. They probably found themselves in hospitals often enough—it would make sense. “That will be all, Red Riot.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, standing up from the folding chair he’d been planted in and pushing it against the wall. Then he turned back to you. “I really can’t thank you enough for what you did today. You’re a really good person.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you said, not sure what to do with the praise.

“Anytime.”

He waved and gave you one last smile before heading back, returning to duty. And as you were able to breathe easy again, answering the doctor’s routine questions and making sure that you actually were okay, it felt like Red Riot’s lingering smile never left.

The first thing you learned afterwards was that most ‘life-changing’ events weren’t actually life changing. They confirmed what they confirmed in your worldview, but, largely, life went on as normal. Like, now you knew for sure that you were the kind of person who could act in a crisis. But that was the story you’d been telling yourself before too, so what was the difference? After your day of heroics—and a day of rest, necessitated by the doctor—you went back to work and life became about staring at numbers on a screen once again.

Some of your coworkers asked about what the rescue had been like—apparently bits and pieces had reached the news, and there’d been footage of Red Riot and the others, but thankfully nothing official about you. They were suddenly very interested in your quirk—your quirk had never been a bad one, but you’d never made a habit of talking about it. And they wanted to know about the heroes.

Apparently, Red Riot was a name that some people knew. You didn’t tend to watch news about heroes and villains—you didn’t figure you needed to know much more than a bit of politics and the weather in your day to day—but those who did knew who Red Riot was. He was a rising star in the hero rankings and had graduated a few years ago from an apparently notorious class at U.A.

Even you knew what U.A. was.

You told everyone he was very nice but that you didn’t know much else. You hadn’t talked to any of the other heroes and if wasn’t like you were besties with Red Riot now. You didn’t even know his real name. Or you hadn’t, until some of your more eager coworkers informed you it was Kirishima Eijirou.

But…you didn’t like the questions. You didn’t like people asking you about how attractive or fit he was, people talking about how in love with him they were, as if you should be drooling and agreeing. Because, nice as the boy was, you didn’t feel that way. A pretty face was a pretty face and a kind soul was a kind soul. But you didn’t have a crush because, well, you almost never had crushes.

And the reminder of that, how different you were from your fantasy-having, simpering peers made you remember just how alone you were. How without those feelings, playful though they were, you felt like you would always be alone. Destined to shy away whenever a sweet boy flirted with you, to say no whenever one asked you out, to cry in your too-large bed on the days where you couldn’t convince yourself that just because you’d always been single, didn’t mean you always would be.

The second thing you learned was that, in actuality, life was always changing. Down to a simple train ride.

Public transit was one of your favorite things about living in the city. Sure, waiting for trains was irritating when you were running late, but you loved that on your morning commute you could read a book or do work instead of staring at a license plate in front of you, trying not to shout into gridlocked traffic.

You always made a habit of pausing your reading the stop before yours, just so that you could double check that your bag was tucked close, still zipped, and that all of your belongings were still on your person. You didn’t like fumbling with a bookmark and your purse just as the doors were opening and stumbling out, hoping you hadn’t left something on the seat—on the days that you were lucky enough to get a seat, that was. This time you’d been stuck, pressed against the window at the back of the car, but, when the stop before yours came, you put your book away and began pushing toward the door.

When the doors pinged open, you were one of the first ones out, flooding onto the platform as a crowd eagerly waited to take your spot, the train destined to stay full until sundown. You’d almost made it out of the station when you heard your name shouted above the din of the train pulling away.

You turned back abruptly, forcing the people behind you to split around you as you wondered if you’d made it up, heard a phantom voice without a source. But then you saw someone pushing through the crowd toward you, sharp grin present on his face.

His torso was hidden under a graphic tee, appropriate for how much warmer the weather had gotten in the past few weeks, but you’d recognize him anywhere. Really, even if you hadn’t had the reminders of people shoving phones with his picture in your face, he was unmistakable from his hair to his eyes to his teeth.

“Red Riot?” you said with surprise, noticing that he was getting a few stares from passersby.

“Ah, you can call me Kirishima,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “Red Riot’s just the guy in the uniform.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, wondering if this man, Kirishima, was going to be imprinting himself on all ends of your commute by the end of the year.

“Day off with my friends.”

Kirishima gestured behind him at a few other people, visible now that the station was thinning out. There was a scowling blond who looked vaguely familiar—probably another hero—two other boys and a pink girl with horns.

“You’re coming home from work?”

You looked down. You were one of the youngest people in the office, so you always tried hard to look the part by dressing as professionally as possible in a button-down and slacks. It definitely stood out against his friends’ casual wear. “Guess it’s pretty obvious, huh?”

Kirishima nodded and you wondered if this was your cue to leave. Cool to see you again, bro, but I’ve got a hot date with Netflix and some leftovers, so why don’t you and your friends enjoy a real Friday night while I begin my descent into my final crotchety cat lady persona?

“Kiri’s told us all about your awesome quirk,” the pink girl said, dark eyes sparkling. “He said you were really brave.”

“And he told us how pretty you were, but man, he didn’t do you justice,” one of the boys—the blond who wasn’t frowning—said.

You bit your lip. The praise was flattering but…uncomfortable. The boy’s brows were raised in what could be interpreted as a suggestive manner, and you wondered what Kirishima had said. Something like She was really brave, cool quirk, kinda cute too or Next time I see her I wanna tap that ass.

Honestly, they made you about equally uncomfortable.

“Cut it out, Kaminari,” Kirishima said, having the decency to flush a little bit. “Listen, we were just going to go to the park and hang out if you wanted to come along?”

“Oh, I…”

You glanced at his friends. All of them—except the one—were smiling and looked like friendly, genuine people. And you usually did like hanging out with people when you actually got up the gumption to do so.

But…your mind was always ready to supply you with a lot of ‘buts.’

But, you’d just gotten off work, looked like an idiot in your slacks and needed to get changed.

But, it was uncomfortable to be in a group where everyone knew each other but you.

But, what if any of these boys were interested in you and tried to get with you?

The last thought always felt so stupid—who did you think you were to assume that any man who looked at you might be thinking about you in that way? Not that you honestly assumed they did, but you feared it. And that didn’t feel much less stupid, to be honest.

“That’s really nice of you,” you said, putting extra cheer and enthusiasm in your voice so it didn’t sound so much like a rejection. “But I haven’t had dinner and work was rough, so I don’t think I’d make a very good impression.”

“Oh, no worries!” Kirishima said, his voice holding the same false merriment as yours. Or maybe you were projecting and he was being totally genuine. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, managing a laugh. “If you manage to catch me on another part of my commute—and there’s no villain involved—I’ll make sure to say hey.”

“All right, Y/N,” Kirishima said as he and his friends began to walk on. “I’m counting on it.”

And the third thing you learned was something you’d actually known for a long time. When things changed, usually they changed slowly.

You’d only said what you’d said to Kirishima last time because you figured there was no way in hell you’d be seeing him again. After all, it was a big city with hundreds of thousands of residents, and it wasn’t exactly like accountants and pro heroes ran in the same spheres.

But it seemed life was getting a kick out of keeping you to your word these days.

It was a weekend and you’d actually managed to leave your apartment to hang out with friends. As predicted, you actually did have a good time, though that didn’t keep you from dipping out early—mostly because you were never excited about heading home alone at night. So, purse clutched close to your side, you walked through the streets, reassuringly lit by friendly lampposts and the many bars that were still open.

When you saw the shocking head of red hair, you thought your brain was making up. Because why would he be here, walking the streets on your route home again?

Judging by his shirtless state, it was because he was on patrol. Which, you know, made sense.

It didn’t take him long to spot you. Because while you were attentive—and especially alert, since it was after dark—he was a hero. Trained not to miss a thing.

His face brightened at the sight of you and he jogged over.

“Y/N!” he said. “I thought you were gonna say hello next time you saw me.”

“I said on my commute,” you quipped, feeling the burn of awkwardness that he’d caught you looking at him. “I thought heroes needed to be detail-oriented.”

“Touché,” he said. “Well, it seems you’re spared again. Can’t hang out while I’m working.”

“But you can do this?” you asked, gesturing between the two of you.

Kirishima grinned. “Of course! This is just me building a relationship with the citizens!”

You didn’t know if that was a thing or not, but it sounded legit enough for you. At the very least, it you were in no place to accuse Kirishima of not being good at his job.

“So, I know why I’m here,” Kirishima continued. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, I was just hanging out with friends,” you said. “Heading home now.”

“But that stop that we got off at a few weeks back,” he said. “That’s the stop for your house, right? That’s still pretty far from here.”

Ah, so he was attentive. You had to give him points for that, even if the fact that he’d paid so much attention made you feel…squirmy. Your flight reflexes were humming under your skin, waiting for the moment he said something that made you think too close, too far, too soon.

“I feel safer walking,” you said, subconsciously gripping onto your purse’s strap.

Some people felt safer taking the train home in the evening, but even if it doubled, tripled the length of the trip, you preferred being in a space where you could run away if necessary. And in the city, there were always potential witnesses outside, if you were ever to need them.

Kirishima’s brows furrowed a bit. “Do you want me to walk you? I can go with you at least to the end of my beat.”

The humming increased. His offer was gentlemanly, chivalrous. It reminded you of old-timey courting—and you were being crazy. You didn’t want to walk home alone and a hero was offering to accompany you part way. You ignored your nerves “That would be really sweet, thank you.”

So you walked and talked. He had more to say about your quirk and you told him that you’d never had much interest in them. Rather, you were an accountant who worked nine to five and quite happy living a quiet life with modest success. You didn’t need a lot—certainly not fame or recognition—and you were mostly content. You didn’t mention the chronic loneliness or bouts of fear around dying alone, but that was how you got by. Loneliness was something you were always trying to outrun, and most days you managed to. Letting it catch up and thinking about it never made you feel better and talking about it rarely did either. It was something you felt powerless to change, so the best thing you could do was try to be happy with the rest of your life and hope for the best.

“I’ll admit, the fame is pretty different in real life from what you think it’ll be as a teenager,” Kirishima said.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said. “I thought about famous bands and stuff and even when I was a kid I didn’t want the kind of notoriety that they have.”

“I’m not sure I ever wanted that either,” Kirishima said. “I just wanted people to look up to me the way I looked up to Crimson Riot. And now that I’m starting to have that, I like that people can rely on me, even if they don’t know me personally.”

You smiled. “That’s a pretty nice way to look at it.”

“You think?”

“I do.” You nodded. “I can see you on the street and feel safer for your being there.”

Kirishima’s shark teeth showed through his smile. “That’s exactly why I’m allowed to talk to you during my patrol.”

“I see,” you said, beginning to think that there was a lot more to heroes than you’d thought.

“Speaking of which,” he said. “I’d love to take you all the way home, but I can’t abandon my post. And this is kind of the end of it.”

You looked at where you were, about to cross a major intersection. You wondered if there was a hero on the other side who would be happy to walk you to the edge of their patrol too.

“No, thank you so much for walking with me this far,” you said. “You didn’t have to do that and it was really sweet.”

“I was happy to do it!” he insisted. You moved to keep going, about to wave your hand in goodbye when he said, “Wait!”

You stopped, heart beating loudly. Flight, flight, flight.

“I was wondering if you’d like to hang out sometime?” he said, a hint of nervousness and hope on his face. Too much hope. “On purpose, you know?”

“Oh,” you said, wishing you could go back in time. Wishing you could have left faster or maybe not even walked with him, even though the walk had been pleasant and comforting. Wishing you were a different person entirely. “I, um, can’t.”

“Oh, do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, the nerves eclipsing the hope. “If so, I’m really sorry if it seemed like I was assu—”

“No, no, I don’t have a boyfriend,” the words almost pulling a wry laugh out of you. A sardonic choke. “I just…I don’t really date.”

“Oh,” Kirishima said again, short brows scrunching in confusion. “Um, sorry, and you don’t have to answer but…what do you mean?”

“I’m on the asexuality spectrum?” you began, hating how apologetic the words sounded. Hating that you couldn’t seem to find a way to be proud of your sexuality, that you could only wear it as a burden. “I’m demisexual. Which means that I can’t feel attracted to people that I barely know. So dating is just…really hard.”

Kirishima’s brows raised. “So…you need to get to know people really well before you’d even be interested?” he asked slowly, clarifying.

“Yeah,” you said. “Very…slow burn.”

“So you’re saying,” he continued, his face becoming warm with a smile again, “that I’d have to see you more often before seeing you officially.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, not that simple,” you said, nervous and confused that he hadn’t let it go yet. “I don’t casual date either. Like, I wouldn’t want someone showing interest in me and then dating other people while they wait to see if I come around. Which I know isn’t fair. Basically, seeing me would be a lot of risk for potentially no reward, because even if we do spend time together, I might never like you. So, yeah, you understand the dilemma.”

The concern was back on his face, and, somehow, your entire urge to flee went away. You’d scared him off, and there was some comfort in that. Sure, maybe it was running away from your problems, but you were able to trick yourself into thinking it was the mature thing to do because you were telling the truth. You were being honest about what the situation was.

“So this really is hard for you.” There was compassion in his voice that took you aback. That wasn’t him running. That wasn’t him being scared off.

“Um, yeah, it kinda sucks,” you said.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Kirishima said, and you thought, hoped that would be the end of it. But he kept going. “But, honestly, spending more time with you sounds like a really nice thing, even without any expectations or anything on it.”

Some boys had made this offer in the past. And it sounded nice on paper, but no matter what you did, you couldn’t remove the expectations in your mind. The fact that you knew why they’d looked at you in the first place, what they were looking for, and that you were still in a position to lead them on. You always made it so hard for yourself, even though you just wanted with everything in your heart for it to be easy.

“And, just so you know,” Kirishima said, glancing down shyly, “I don’t date a lot either. I’m not sure what kind of impression I’ve given off, but really, I don’t have that much time because of this career, and the time that I do I try to spend with my friends. So, it would make more sense to, you know, try and do that anyway. I just…as a hero, I often see the worst of people and so I want to spend all my other time with good ones. And you seem like a really good person.”

“I…” You had one last shot. One last thing to show the worst of yourself and see if he’d turn around on you. “When I’ve tried dating before, I’m not the best version of myself. I get really uncomfortable, so I treat people in a way that’s less than they deserve. I don’t think you’d like that version of me.”

“It’s a good thing we wouldn’t be dating then,” Kirishima said. “Just…two friends trying to become better people.”

You were at war with yourself. He was saying all the right things but you were still so scared. Of someone liking you when you couldn’t like them. Of you falling for them after they’d put you in the friend zone. Of falling in love and it not working out. Of falling in love and getting everything.

“How about this,” Kirishima said. “I’ll be here tomorrow—my shift starts at six. And if we happen to bump into each other by accident, well, that seems to be our pattern, so how bad could it be?”

You smiled, having a quick response for that one. “I could be held hostage by a villain, pass out, and need you to take me to the hospital.”

“Well, at least we know we can get out of that one.”

“I suppose so,” you said. It was casual. It was literally the lowest stakes invitation you’d ever heard in your life. If you couldn’t say yes to this, then what were you doing? “I…okay. I might see you tomorrow.”

He grinned at you and you became immediately convinced that his cheer was totally genuine. He was just a happy guy, and maybe nothing he said had any innuendo or hidden meaning to it. It probably never had. “Is it okay if I give you my number? I just want to know that you get home safe.”

In the bright lights of the busy street, you’d almost forgotten that it was quickly becoming the middle of the night, and that you’d had such unease when you’d first stepped out into it. You’d felt totally safe for a minute, even in this strange world you lived in.

“Okay,” you said. “If I’m not home in twenty minutes, you have permission to get worried.”

“I’ll send a search party,” he said. “I know a guy.”

You laughed. “Sounds good. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise…”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“We’ll see.”

He nodded. “We’ll see.”

It was half a promise, the start of a maybe friendship. It was probably nothing at all, you had to remind yourself for the whole walk home, otherwise you might go crazy with nerves.

But, also, it might be good.

Time would only tell.

[fandom-necromancer]

Part 2 has been prompted by the wonderful DetReed900 on AO3! I hope you enjoy it!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Cyberpunk AU

‘Quick, get in!‘ Gavin leaned on the passenger seat to hold the door open, as he watched Nines run towards him at full speed. The android jumped in, smashing the door close and Gavin drove off with screeching tires, while their pursuers desperately tried to get a good shot at them before they could disappear. But Gavin drifted around the next corner, accelerating again and taking several tight turns to lose anyone who might follow them. All the while Nines sat next to him laughing and cheering. Gavin looked into the rear-view mirror and relaxed a little as he couldn’t see anyone following them. He smirked, unable to be angry with the android although he likely should have been. As soon as they had made it on the highway, Gavin slowed down and weaved the car in between regular traffic.

‘How many times do I have to save you?’, he finally spoke a bit more serious. ‘Oh, come on’, Nines purred, leaning over. ‘You are just too good at that, it would be a shame letting that talent go to waste.’ Gavin turned his face towards Nines for a split second and smiled, pushing just a little on the gas. ‘You better start getting a talent for staying out of trouble, my friend.’ Nines laid his hand on his chest and looked accusingly at Gavin. ‘Do you see any bullet wound? I stayed out of trouble.’ ‘Yeah, and that gang will just forget about you doing… What even were you doing, Nines?’ ‘It’s a secret’, the android winked at him and leaned back in his seat. ‘Despite I really don’t think they would dare retaliate against us.’ ‘And why should that be?’ ‘Gavin, we could buy their whole organisation. I doubt they would dare attacking us openly.’ Gavin huffed. ‘Didn’t look that way when they were running after you.’

‘Hey, I’m fine, okay?’, Nines tried to change topics. ‘And I got what I needed from them.’ ‘Alright, Taxi Gavin reporting for duty, where can I bring you?’ ‘Stop with the sass, you get your fair share for this too. Just drive on, I have to hide it for the client in the city. I will give you directions.’ Gavin just sighed and turned up the radio.

‘What even is it with all that random side jobs you’re doing?’, Gavin asked standing next to the car while Nines hid a small package in the remains of some homeless person’s deserted shelter under a bridge. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to get rid of me.’ Nines stood up and stretched, smiling at the human. ‘Quite the opposite. I’m making sure we will do this together for a long time coming.’ ‘Alright’, Gavin chuckled, opening the door to the car. ‘And when will I be part of all the fun again?’ ‘Take a break’, Nines told him as he joined him inside. ‘For once in your life enjoy it. I will tell you soon enough.’ ‘It’s not because of Cyberlife, is it?’ ‘No. Elijah keeps his promise. For now, at least. And if he chooses to change that, I still have the backup of RA9 I can manipulate him with. We’re safe.’ ‘Good to hear. Can we go home then?’ ‘Yes. I’m done for today.’

They drove through the city, various neon signs glowing down on them and advertising the latest product you had to get immediately. Not too long ago, Gavin had lived in an old dilapidated house at the edge of the city. Once the dream of families with jobs in the city, the suburbs had now fallen into poverty and were taken over by criminal activity as the police didn’t care to patrol there anymore. Not when all the important people with money and influence were living in fancy apartments in the highest floors and everyone that still dreamed of getting there was packed like sardines in the mega-buildings. Now they were driving into their very own parking spot in a garage that had tighter CCTV as any street out there.  With only a short walk to the elevator, they were arriving at their flat in a matter of minutes.

Gavin exhaled with the satisfying clicking of the lock and the low hum of their security systems. The largest part of their Cyberlife money had been invested into this flat and the security measures and Gavin was thankful for it as it would at least get them more time should the corporation – or any other fraction for that part – decide to attack them. Nines walked up to the large glass front of their living room – reinforced to withhold everything up to a rocket launcher – and took off his white jacket he had exchanged his Cyberlife uniform with. Gavin watched how he pulled on the fabric of the tight turtleneck underneath and swallowed as he saw Nines’ smirk. Phcking all-seeing bastard…

He walked up to the kitchen and heated up the leftovers from yesterday’s meal, joining Nines on the sofa while eating. ‘Alright, I will go take a quick shower and go to bed. How about you?’ ‘I’ll skip straight to the bed part and warm it up for you’, the android muttered and took Gavin’s hand to pull him in for a kiss on his temple. ‘Don’t let me wait too long.’

As Gavin slid under the sheets, Nines had indeed warmed up the space comfortably. With his heated skin from the long shower, the softness was like heaven. The android’s hands in his hair gently massaging his scalp an added bonus. The man relaxed completely, closing his eyes as Nines dimmed the lights and switched them off completely. And with how tired he was and how good just lying there like that felt, he decided he would think about everything that happened tomorrow, if at all.

~

Gavin was woken up by the sun shining through the clouds directly into his face. Groaning, he slapped an arm over his face and turned, only to see that the other side of the bed was empty. He frowned. ‘Nines?’, he called into the flat, slowly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. As he didn’t get an answer, he shrugged and stood up piking up some lose-fit pants from the floor to wear. He yawned heartily as he walked up to the kitchen to make himself a coffee. His fingers hadn’t yet hit the button as his eyes finally noticed the post it note stuck to it.

Good morning, darling. I’m off for the day, but it shouldn’t take long. Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of trouble for today. -9

Gavin took the little piece of paper and leaned against the counter, reading it again. He sighed, flinging it behind his back and getting back to his coffee. It was okay, it could happen, he told himself. Nines could do whatever he wanted. That was fine. He let himself fall onto the couch, sipping his coffee and cursing at himself for being so impatient as it was still far too hot. Maybe he had gotten a call by Fowler or any other Fixer in the city. Maybe he was preparing for a job. Maybe he was just out to buy some more equipment, who knew?

He shouldn’t worry. But he did. He had been betrayed a fair share in his life already and he had always been prepared should his recent partner do the same. But Nines was different. He wouldn’t do that, right? He couldn’t imagine the android doing that. And there was no reason for him to do so. They were a good team, made for each other since their very first mission together. There was no reason for Nines to leave him behind, right? ‘Phck’, Gavin cursed. If Nines did do that, it would destroy him. He knew it.

He sat there almost the entire day, watching the news, reading up the truth behind the media’s lies and checking in with the gang territories and job offers. After that it was cooking for himself, going for a short drive and after that: waiting. Until the android came back home. Because he needed to know. He would confront him today.

He perked up when the door unlocked with a familiar click and the android entered the room. ‘Gavin, I’m-‘ He stopped as he saw the man sitting in front of him, eyes fixed sternly on himself. ‘I’m home’, he finished in a more appropriate volume and shut the door. ‘Welcome back’, Gavin said. ‘We need to talk.’ Nines grimaced at that but nodded. ‘Okay. Just a moment.’ He hung up his jacket on the next chair and joined Gavin on the couch. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘I need to know what is going on’, Gavin decided to get right to business. ‘I need to know what you are doing and why you keep disappearing like this without any information. Sorry.’ Nines let his head rest in his hands for a moment, then lifted it out with a sigh, looking over to Gavin. ‘I know how this might look like, Gavin, but I can only tell you it isn’t what you think’, he began. ‘Hell, that makes it sound even worse now. I can’t tell you what I’m doing.’ ‘Alright.’ Gavin was short of standing up and leaving, but Nines grabbed his arm and gently pleaded him to stay with him. ‘Listen, I can’t tell you yet. I’m asking for two more days of your patience. Friday evening I will show you what I’ve been working on the past weeks, okay? It will all make sense then, don’t worry. I’m not leaving you behind or plan on betraying you. But I can’t tell you what it is, yet.’ ‘So a surprise, huh?’, Gavin asked not at all satisfied with the answer. ‘Yes’, Nines grinned and his smile reassured Gavin a little. ‘Yes, you could call it that.’

~

Friday evening was coming faster than thought, even if Gavin spent most of the time alone in their flat or out drinking in a bar. But that evening, Nines had told him to wear something comfortable and snatched the keys to his car from him as they left the flat. Now, Gavin was sitting in the passenger seat of his own car feeling weirdly out of place. ‘So where are we driving?’, he asked finally. Nines smiled at him and just asked in return: ‘I thought you knew these streets?’ ‘Yeah, I know we’re driving out of the city. I don’t know where you plan on bringing me though.’ ‘You’ll see. You just have to wait a little longer.’

Gavin spat some expletives his way in his mind and sighed, obviously uncomfortable. They had long left the city behind them and it dawned on Gavin where they were going. As Nines turned on the dusty road that would lead them to a very familiar hill, Gavin frowned. ‘The shed? What are you planning?’ Nines just chuckled and parked the car behind the bushes like Gavin had done before. ‘Do you know it has been a year now?’, the android asked him and stepped out of the car.

‘Exactly a year?’ ‘Yes.’ Nines helped him out of the car and led him towards the shed. ‘Wait.’ The android stopped him and watched the shed that lit up on command. The roof had been fixed and a few lightbulbs dangled from cables fastened to it. A few insects buzzed around the light sources and Nines hurried inside, leaving Gavin standing there admiring the comfy yet out of place looking decoration. As the android came back, he held a box and walked towards the tree, beckoning Gavin to follow him. In one swift motion Nines placed a blanket on the dried grass and leaned a few pillows against the tree. Then he sat down and looked up at Gavin expectantly.

‘What is this all?’, Gavin asked sceptically. ‘Just sit down’, Nines laughed and patted the ground at his side. Slowly, Gavin approached and sat down. Even before he was fully seated, Nines had pulled a few bottles out of the box as well as plates with snacks. ‘Seriously, what is this all?’, Gavin asked, by now more perplexed than suspicious. ‘I believe you could call it a picknick, darling’, Nines explained. ‘Exactly one year ago, we were sitting here and didn’t know what to do next. You changed my life that day and I can’t say I regret it.’ ‘And…?’ ‘And I really like how that new life turned out in the end. Thought it was a reason to celebrate.’

Gavin just stared at the android. ‘Wait. Wait a moment. You disappearing all the time… How did this lead up to this?’ ‘Do you know how difficult it is to get real lightbulbs in a city that relies on neon lights? Everything calming and warm is ridiculously expensive, because some people intentionally push up the prize. I thought to change that by breaking in, getting what I need and sell the rest.’ ‘You… You didn’t really run face first in gang hideouts just to plan a picknick, did you?!’ Nines shrugged at Gavin’s incredulous eyes.

‘I wanted the best for today. The wine is made from real grapes, it’s not that synth-stuff you get at every bar. As is everything else. I could have either spent all our money on this or get them myself. It was easier.’ ‘Holy shit and I thought you were ratting me out for some kind of deal!’, Gavin called out in embarrassment. ‘I would never’, Nines grinned. ‘Although I do have some kind of deal for you, darling.’

Gavin looked up to the android and lifted a brow. ‘Really?’ ‘Yes. Gavin, we have lived together for a year now and I can’t imagine a life without you. And considering how high the chances of an untimely death are in our business, I think it’s long overdue that I asked you.’ ‘Asked me what?’, Gavin asked, not believing what was about to happen.

Nines simply turned around to him and pulled something out of his pocket. It was a tiny silver ring made from what looked like parts of machinery. ‘What is that?’, the human asked and couldn’t keep his eyes from it. ‘A ring, dumbass. Remember that Job from Fowler last month?’ ‘Yes. How could I forget that? You nearly died!’ Nines nodded and took Gavin’s hand in his. ‘That settled it for me. The ring is made from my damaged part and I want you to have it. If you want it.’ ‘What exactly are you asking, Nines?’ Nines looked up to him and he saw his LED turning at insane speed. ‘Gavin Reed. Do you want to marry me?’

Gavin stared at him, then at the ring and lastly at his surroundings. Who was he kidding here, he had hoped for his dream to come true, but he still couldn’t believe it as he saw it right before his very own eyes. Grinning like crazy, he dove in for a kiss instead and only afterwards panted: ‘Yes! Yes, I would love to.’ Nines couldn’t hide his own smile and pushed the ring onto Gavin’s finger where it lit up in the same colour and rhythm as the android’s LED. ‘I love you, Gavin’, he whispered, brushing his thumb over the ring before pulling the human in a tight hug, the man returned in equal strength. ‘I love you too, tin-can’, Gavin laughed and looked down on the ring over Nines’ shoulder.

He really was far too lucky for this world. But he wouldn’t ever think about complaining.

[byunsboyz]

Jamais Vu - Part One

Exo Fanfiction

Baekhyun x Female Reader

Warnings: some light swears.

Genre: Fluff/Angst?

W/C: 2560

Part Two Part Three

_____________________________________________________________

Everybody has that ‘what if’. The one who got away....not quite regret, but thoughts that would drift by late at night when insomnia has set in and you’re deep into your latest existential crisis.

What if things had been different? What if you had said what had been on the tip of your tongue that day?

Byun Baekhyun was your what if. 

He had been your best friend in college and the only person you had truly loved.

You had no reason to run into Byun Baekhyun. You didn’t share classes. You an Accounting major and him Architecture. 

You didn’t run in the same social circles, he was part of a frat house and you opted to remain in dorms with your small group of friends. 

But what had brought you together was music, meeting in your second year while working at the campus radio station.

You had applied for the role of Production Director on a whim, looking for a hobby outside of classes and studying and also benefited from the extra credit of managing the finances of the small college club. 

The first time you met you were positive you’d never understand him. After all, you were complete opposites. He was loud and outgoing; always the centre of jokes and a far cry the quiet loner you were perceived to be. 

But from the first show you ran with him, he has surprised you. Baekhyun was the On-Air Presenter for the Sunday night Jazz & Blues segment and as soon as the light would turn red he’d take on a completely different persona.

His voice would become soft and melodic as he’d whisper sweet nothings into the microphone about the classics of Miles Davies and Frank Sinatra. 

You’d often be on the same late-night shift together; downing coffee after coffee, discussing your favourite artists and organising records until the early hours.

He wasn’t exhausting like the rest of your extroverted friends, his presence giving you a warm sense of comfort. 

Without noticing you became joined at the hip for the rest of your college days. 

Not to the point that you were a regular at his crazy frat parties but you’d hang out at the radio station, would marathon movie after movie at each other’s dorms on the weekends and crammed for all your major test’s together. 

You hadn’t even realised you were in love with him until you’d just graduated, you even had the crazy idea to confess.

Then the news broke that he was moving to a different country.

He had been in two minds on whether to go. You’d always talked about living and working in the same city and he’d been concerned about you being alone and him going back on his promise.

Honestly. Who achieves their dream job at a globally famous architecture firm and worries about their dumb friend during the happiest moment of their life?!

You remembered that day vividly.

‘“Of course you should go! It’s your dream, Baek” you forced the enthusiasm into your voice.

Inside, you could feel your heart tearing at the seams. You weren’t selfish enough to show him just how much you would miss him, as much as you had wanted to.

He was always too considerate of your feelings. 

This wasn’t some Rom-Com TV show, where Baekhyun would suddenly declare he couldn’t live without you. He wasn’t like Rachel choosing not to get on the plan for Ross.

You’d cried so hard the night he’d left. Almost texting the words you’d be aching to tell him for the last three years. 

‘I am in love with you’. 

But the alcohol had knocked you out before you could hit send.

He’d promised to keep in touch but over the years you drifted. As life and work became more and more hectic it devolved from video chatting on the weekends, to texting occasionally. 

Fading into receiving a generic happy birthday post on social media and then nothing at all.

You’d pushed him to the back of your mind as you told yourself over and over that this is what happens as you get older. 

And with that ten years had passed.

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

You wake with a start. Back aching from where you’d fallen asleep in an awkward position while watching a random ASMR video the night prior.

*Clatter*  

Your sleep-filled eyes search the room, trying to locate the source of the noise. 

*Thud Thud Thud*

It appears to be coming through the wall behind your headboard.

Could someone be moving into the apartment next door? It’s been entirely empty the whole time you’ve been living here, about seven months now.

You've enjoyed the quiet solace of not having to share the walls with another person. Especially being one of the only two apartments on the upper floor, it was one of the reasons you love your apartment.

It’s also located near the subway and tucked far back enough on the outskirts of the city that it’s almost peaceful. There’s also a small cafe bar and a couple of small stores that remind you of the town where you grew up.

*Bang*

You groan again at the loud noises as you stretch your arms over your head and wonder about the people moving in next door.

Maybe a couple? Or a young family. It could even be a cute guy. You snort at the thought. Yeah right. What kind of a psycho moves into an apartment in the early morning anyway?!

You reach under your pillow for your phone to check the time. 8:30 am! SHIT. You overslept and if you don’t leave your apartment in the next ten minutes you’ll miss your train to work!

With no time for a shower, you rush to your bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth.

As you drag a brush through your hair and pull it up into a simple, neat ponytail you start forming a contingency plan…

‘Skip the usual to-go coffee at Dunkin’ and settle for the instant stuff at work’ you think to yourself, ‘As soon as I get to work, throw on some BB cream and mascara with the time I’ll gain abandoning my daily vanilla latte with coconut milk…’.

You sniff sadly at the thought as you step into one of your tailored dresses, fumbling with the awkward zipper in the back.

Within 10 minutes you’re flying out the door and straight into the elevator. Using the short amount of time to button up your sweater and glance through your bag to check that you’ve got everything you’ll need for the day.

You’re in your own thoughts as you stride towards the lobby doors, and almost walk straight into your building manager.

“Oh! Good morning, Mr Sato!” you gasp in surprise.

“Good morning!” he smiles obliviously, not realising that you almost knocked him flying. You move to step around him as he continues. “There’s a package of yours with Ralph” (the doorman) “and I also wanted to let you know about a new tenant moving into the place next to yours...”

“Uh-huh,  of course, that’s great!” You cut him off, waving your hands apologetically “I am so sorry. Please excuse me, I’m late for work!” you call out behind you as you make a mad dash out of the building to the subway station.

You make your train by the skin of your teeth, panting from the final sprint from the ticket gate to the platform. Feeling glad you skipped the makeup as you would have surely sweat a good portion of it off by now.

You currently work for a large accountancy firm Kim & Partners. You could have worked within a finance department of any company as most qualified accountants tend to do but you love the challenges and variety of working with different industries and clients every day.

You manage a small team of four and specialise in bookkeeping for small to medium enterprise, one of the smaller departments in the company but you have a pretty large client base and enjoy the satisfaction of helping others and providing a clear and efficient service.

“We are transferring you to manage corporate accounts,” your boss Mr Kim announces in the morning management meeting. You feel like someones just pulled a step from beneath your footing.

You were aware that your manager Mr Choi had wanted to transfer you out to provide more specialised management accountancy for larger corporate clients but so far you’d been convincing enough from the commission and reputation you’ve built for Kim & Partners to be able to continue as you were.

“Uh, thank you for the opportunity, Mr Kim, I-” you begin shakily, looking for the words or a reason to decline the transfer.

“Fantastic! You’ll handover to Jaehyun for the rest of today and you’ll start in corporate accounting tomorrow!” your boss claps his hands together enthusiastically and with that you chicken out of any further protest and nod your head.

Jaehyun is your second in command and honestly, he really deserves this promotion. You couldn’t think of someone more diligent and detail-oriented.

The rest of your day is uneventful. The handover goes incredibly smoothly despite a very surprised Jaehyun but the more things are explained, the more you realise that this progression will be good for everyone.

You’ll still oversee Jaehyun and his team but allow him more room to make decisions and develop while you work on the larger corporate accounts that keep your company in business.

There was even a hint at the opportunity to become a junior partner, which by your calculations would make you one of the youngest in the company.

You leave work feeling excited, passing up on celebratory drinks with your (old) team so that they can have more fun without their boss present.

“COME ONNNN” Hani, your junior accounts clerk had whined when you announced that you wouldn't be joining “You’re not a regular boss, you’re a COOL boss!”.

You appreciate the sentiment but everyone likes to complain about work and management when they drink and you wouldn't like to take that away from them.

You sit on the train heading back to your apartment feeling optimistic, texting your best friend Aria about the day and making plans for your own celebratory drinks.

You’re walking through the lobby of your apartment building, heading towards Ralph’s desk to collect the package Mr Sato mentioned this morning. Probably the new nutribullet you’d ordered while drunk Amazon shopping a couple of weeks back.

Normally you’d cancel the delivery but drunk you was really onto something this time. You giggle at a dumb vine quote Aria sends you and as you finish typing up your response-

 THWACK! You hit a wall, falling ungracefully backwards onto your butt.

You grunt as the air gets knocked out of you when you make contact with rough carpet of the lobby.

“Seriously!” another voice snaps you back to reality as you realise you didn’t walk into a wall but another person.

 A now very annoyed person, carrying what you assume was their groceries as you glance over at the produce and cans rolling around on the floor between you.

“I- oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” you stammer as you scramble to your knees and start frantically picking up some of the items in front of you. A can of beans, a bag of pasta and a lone orange trying to make its escape. 

“I wasn’t even looking, I promise I’ll pay for anything dama-”, You begin as you look up, expecting to see Mr Sato or one of the other tenants of the building.

The rest of your sentence dies in the back of your throat.

“Baekhyun?...”

His name leaves your lips as a whisper, heart thumping against your chest as you almost drop the items in your hands.

He’s not looking in your direction, you hear him grumble something under his breath that you can’t quite make out as he scoops the remainder of his groceries into a battered paper bag.

Is it really him? Did you hit your head and you’re actually unconscious and hallucinating about a guy you used to know and haven’t seen in ten years?

It sure looks like him. A few extra lines crease his forehead, his hair is a darker shade of chocolate than you remember with a few flecks of silver glinting at the centre of his parting.

You glance to his left hand searching for the mole that sits beneath his thumbnail but it’s not there. Maybe it was on his right hand?

He finally looks up as if finally registering that you’re kneeling on the floor next to him, his lips part slightly in surprise as he looks you over. A tiny mole sits just above the corner of his upper lip. It really is him!

Before your mind has time to catch up you’re throwing your arms around him, allowing your excitement to overtake all of your other senses. You feel him instantly tense up.

“H-hey!” he shouts, pushing you off him abruptly. “What the hell are you doing!”

You shoot to your feet, shaken by the sharpness of his tone you take a step back to create some space. Your throat feels dry all of a sudden. His eyes look you over but there’s no familiarity in them, they’re so cold you almost shiver.

He takes a step towards you, “How do you know my name?” his tone sharp and accusing, “Are you some kind of stalker?”.

Your cheeks start to burn as the realisation set’s in that Baekhyun has no idea who you are. You struggle to swallow the lump forming in your throat as you search for a response. Words seem to fail you right now.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” you hear the worried voice of Mr Sato, by the time you remember to blink he’s already standing between the two of you. You look up at him, dumbstruck as you fight back the sharp prickles in the corner of your eyes.

He looks back and forth between you and Baekhyun, trying to piece together what has taken place. You realise you’re still holding Baekhyun’s groceries, practically hugging the bag of pasta to your chest and your cheeks burn even hotter. 

You hear your name spoken again but it’s not Mr Sato’s voice this time, and you don’t have the nerve to look at Baekhyun again.

So you do the only thing you can think of and thrust the items you're holding at Mr Sato. Run as fast as you can to the stairwell, and find the nearest hole to jump into, aka your apartment.

Your knees ache as you force yourself up each flight. You can’t even remember the last time you used the stairwell and when you finally reach the threshold of your apartment you collapse against the door.

What on earth were you thinking?

What gave you the right to assume anyone would recognise you after ten years?

What was he even doing here? As that final thought crosses your mind someone knocks at your door.

You jump at the abrupt noise, chest still tight from the anxiety (or the running). But there’s no way you’re answering the door.

Your legs still feel like jelly and you really fear that Mr Sato has come to scold you or worse Baekhyun has followed you.

But he wouldn’t know which apartment you lived in. Would he?

You pull yourself to your feet and glance through the peephole.

You watch as Baekhyun turns away from your front door and disappears towards the next apartment.

No way.

*Slam*

Shit.

[eryiss]

Chapter Seven - The Shutdown

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. There's descriptions of emotional repression in this chapter, so be aware of that. Hope you enjoy it.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Seven – The Shutdown

This was pathetic, and Freed knew it.

He was a grown man. He was a lawyer. He was a well-respected member of society who had earned his place on multiple occasions. And yet, apparently, this was what he had resorted to. Switching off his phone while glaring at it, locking himself in his apartment, and refusing to speak to anyone who might want to talk. He had shut himself off completely, like a fucking teenager who didn't know how to handle his emotions.

Which, other than him not being a teenager, was accurate. Because all of this ridiculous behaviour that Freed hated himself for doing – that he couldn't stop himself from doing – was all because he didn't know what to do about what he was feeling.

And he was feeling. He was feeling a lot.

It was something that only added to his annoyance because Freed wasn't an overly emotional person. He was pragmatic, and allowed his feelings to be put to the side to focus on greater tasks. He'd lived his entire life that way, and had done so to great success and happiness, and yet now he felt as though he was fucking drowning in these feelings. In the feelings that he couldn't quantify or push to the side or ignore. And the pure amount of them, the ferocity with which they had hit him, and range of different feelings was just so awful. He couldn't deal with it.

So, he did what he always did when he was overwhelmed. It didn't happen often, and usually only when he was taking on a case that was more troublesome than he had expected, but he had techniques in place that usually helped. He wrote a list of everything that was overwhelming him.

Confusion – He had always lived in Era, and his life resolved around the city. It was confusing to feel so drawn to Magnolia, a place so contrasting to what he knew.

Annoyance – He knew that he wanted Magnolia to be a larger part of his life, but wouldn't say it out loud. His pride was getting in the way, but he couldn't push past it to be honest about his wants.

Anger – He should have spoken to Laxus. He shouldn't have let him go after… what had happened. Because they hadn't spoken since Laxus had left, two weeks ago. And he missed him, more than he could admit to himself. He missed him so much.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have goaded Laxus into a flirtatious competition.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have left the house and gone to the carnival to see Laxus.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have gotten allowed his stupid crush to become more than that.

Anger – Because he shouldn't have let Laxus be anything other than a workman to him.

Anger – Because why couldn't he speak his goddamn mind when it came what he was feeling?

He sighed, slamming his pen onto his desk, and rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand. He looked down at the list with an annoyed expression because it had done exactly what it was meant to do. It had highlighted the greater problem that was worrying Freed, and it was all very clear as to what was actually troubling him. As he always did after finishing a list, he wrote a final point to clarify what was actually happening, and he sighed at his own words.

Attraction – He was drawn to Laxus in a way that he couldn't control. He didn't know what to do with this attraction, but he couldn't stop it. It felt like he was trapped by it.

And for Freed, a man whose emotions had never been an issue, it was concerning.

Worse still, a lot of their time spent together seemed to be cast in a new light now. All of Freed's insistence that Laxus teach him new skills, perhaps that was just a way to get closer to him more often. Their shared meal and the private revelations of their childhoods, maybe that was how Freed was making his relationship with Laxus more personal. The time they spent at the carnival, before the incident after the dunk tank, might have been Freed getting a date from Laxus without even knowing it.

It all made Freed feel rather sick.

One worrisome thought was that he might have manipulated Laxus into friendship unknowingly. But Laxus wasn't that good of an actor, and he seemed to genuinely like Freed. Though that could be because Freed was his boss, and he wanted to get a good reference at the end of their working relationship.

A sharp nocking sound echoed through Freed's empty apartment, cutting off that thought.

He didn't move to answer it, of course. With seemingly a million and one random and predominantly negative thoughts hitting him every second, he wasn't in the mood to greet visitors. The idea of pretending to be happy sounded exhausting, and Freed would much rather gather his thoughts on his own. Though, in reality he would probably try and fail to gather his thoughts, only to be angry at himself for failing, and he'd end up sleeping while enraged.

"If you are not dead in there, I will kill you!" Evergreen yelled, slamming the door again.

"That means she's worried," Another voice followed, lighter sounding than Evergreen's. Bickslow. "But also kinda murderous, so open the door."

Freed sighed, moving from his desk and walking towards the door. Out of everyone he knew, Freed would feel the least amount of guilt for not being polite and engaged with the two of them. And it was entirely possible that if Freed didn't open the door quickly, Evergreen would take it off its hinges. He didn't even know how they'd gotten into the building without having him buzz the door open.

When he opened it, he felt a small flush of guilt overtake him. Bickslow, who was normally grinning wider than Freed thought possible, had a concerned expression. Evergreen was hovering between anger and worry. Freed almost didn't understand the expression, but Evergreen made it easy for him.

By punching him in the chest, then hugging him.

"Motherfucker," She grunted into Freed's chest, and he looked down at her with a frown. He considered speaking, but thought against it. "I was worried about you."

"Why?"

"Because you've been missing for like four days, man," Bickslow said as he walked into Freed's apartment and closed the door; apparently they were staying. "You wouldn't answer your phone or any emails. Normally it feels like you reply to things before we manage to send them," He shrugged. "We wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Well," Freed said slowly. "I am."

"Then I can punch you again," Evergreen grunted, removing herself from Freed's body and slamming her fist into his arm. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," Freed turned and walked back to his desk. "You know I'm okay, so is there anything else you need?"

Freed knew his friends well, and even though he had turned his back away from them, he knew they'd be exchanging looks in place of a conversation, and it annoyed Freed when his suspicions were confirmed in the window's reflection. He understood that they were worried, and he understood that they were probably angry at him for how he was acting now that they knew he was okay, but they could at least be subtle.

And why were they treating him like a child? He had known and worked with them both for years, and surely he'd proven himself to be a capable adult hundreds of times by now. For heavens sake, when they'd all been in the same office, Freed had always been the project manager. Self-appointed too. But apparently wanting some time alone meant the respect that he had earned had completely gone, and instead had been replaced by a patronising level of care from his friends. His friends who had barged their way into his house uninvited, and were now clearly talking about him behind his back, expecting him to be okay with it.

"I'd like to be left alone," Freed stated, turning to face his friends again. "So if you're going to act like I'm not here, then you might as well leave."

"Come on Freed," Bickslow sighed, and Freed stiffened slightly.

His tone was almost exhausted, as if this was a regular and tedious occurrence. Which it wasn't. This was abnormal, something that Freed had never done before, and he would hope that his friends might respect his wishes about the situation. He was about to voice this annoyance when Evergreen spoke.

"Laxus texted me," She stated, and his eyes flickered over to her.

"Saying what, exactly?" He said slowly, the demand clear. He didn't know what Laxus had thought of the situation, whether he had noticed Freed slightly leaning in when they were face to face, and frankly he was a little scared of what Evergreen was about to say.

"That you didn't leave on the best terms, and that you didn't go back to Magnolia over the weekend," She said, sitting on Freed's sofa and staring him down. "He said you didn't fight, but you've been ignoring his calls. So, what happened?"

"I don't see why I should tell you," Freed walked to his kitchen. He got himself a glass of water, not offering anything to the two of them. He hoped they would understand the passive-aggressive message behind it.

"Because it's making you act like an-"

"What she means is," Bickslow interrupted. "That if you tell us what happened, then we might be able to help out with it. Make you feel a little better."

"I don't need you to make me feel better."

"You need something, baby," Bickslow sighed, looking at Freed with an annoyingly honest smile. It cracked a little at Freed's anger, as Bickslow mostly was exaggerative with his emotions, not honest. "Because, whatever you're doing right now, it's not like you. And it doesn't look very healthy."

Freed looked to where Bickslow was looking, and huffed. It was his trash can, around which were discarded remains of takeout food.

"So I'm no longer allowed to order food for myself?" He snapped.

"Of course you are," Evergreen placated him. "But you always cook for yourself, you always have. It'd be weird for you if you ordered takeout once a week, and this is a lot more than once a week," She sighed as she caught Freed's rolled eyes. "Look, we know it's only a little thing. But you're isolating yourself and not dealing with whatever the problem is, and that's not like you. And if something's affecting you that much, then we just thought that maybe we could help you with it. Even if it's just talking it out together."

"And we can go, if you want," Bickslow continued. "But I think it'd be best if we stayed."

Freed was silent, then huffed quietly. "Tea or coffee?"

After he had prepared them their drinks, and some further light convincing from the two of them, he began to explain what had happened. He only described what he needed to: that he had slowly been getting closer to Laxus over their time together, and that he had been developing a crush. That he felt a draw to Laxus that he couldn't understand, and it was sometimes making things uncomfortable for him.

Then he explained what had happened at the carnival. How he'd been angry, and he'd instinctively gone to Laxus to change that. How they'd spent the afternoon together, doing something very close to flirting. How he'd challenged Laxus to a ridiculous game, and what had happened because of it.

How they'd nearly kissed.

How Laxus had basically fled.

"So," Evergreen spoke up again after Freed had finished. "You did something you regret, and you're embarrassed?"

"Yes, because I'm a child" Freed agreed sarcastically.

"Everyone gets embarrassed Freed, not just kids," Bickslow sighed. "But I don't think that's why you're acting like this. I think the real issue is that you were embarrassed, but it didn't bother you as much as it normally would," Freed's brow furrowed slightly, and Bickslow continued. "You almost forgot to be embarrassed because it didn't matter. You were more worried about the things you did than the situation itself. You only felt embarrassed about it when you had time to think, and that's not normal for you."

"When did you become a psychologist?" Evergreen mumbled.

"Sorry, I just spent a lot of time around them now, with work. It's interesting stuff," Bickslow chuckled to himself, patting Freed's leg. "What I'm trying to say is, I think this is one of the first time's you've kind of wanted to be vulnerable for someone. That you've actually felt that it might be worth it, and it's messing you up a bit."

"I," Freed said slowly. "I suppose that might be possible. It's true that relationships aren't an area of expertise. It's possible that might be a… contributing factor."

"You should talk to him," Evergreen suggested. "It's probably the best way to get past this."

"We nearly kissed one another, and we haven't spoken to each other since then," Freed deflected at the idea, hand wrapping tightly around the mug of tea in his hand. "And he walked away from me the moment it happened. He's hardly enthusiastic about the situation."

"He was overwhelmed," Evergreen exclaimed. "I had to stop him from taking the train up here when he found out we hadn't heard from you for days," Freed scoffed a little at that. "Freed, did it really not occur to you that he might be just as crappy with his emotions as you, he just sucks in a different, more subtle way?"

Freed didn't answer that.

With his lack of an answer, the room fell into an uncomfortable quiet. Freed was now glaring down at his tea, gripping it tightly as a rush of annoyance ran over him. Because, not only had Evergreen and Bickslow acted as if they knew his mind better than he did, but they were also trying to tell him that Laxus might have nearly kissed him as well. It was angering, because even if it was true, they were missing the point.

Laxus wasn't someone Freed could get into a relationship with; he just wasn't. Not only was the man his employee, and therefore dating him would be a large conflict of interest, but he also lived three hours away in a place that was the direct antithesis of Era. As cliché as it was, they were from different worlds.

He had a feeling that, if he said any of that out loud, they'd say he was making excuses.

Maybe he was.

"There's something else we want to talk to you about, too," Evergreen spoke again, and her voice had a cautious edge to it that caught Freed's attention. Pre-emptively, he found himself getting defensive. "We've been talking, and we know it's not your favourite thing to talk about but…"

"The last time we saw you acting like this," Bickslow continued. "It was when your dad died."

"What are you implying?" Freed asked sharply.

"We just thought that maybe the reason you've become so," Evergreen thought for a moment, clearly trying to think of a word that wouldn't antagonise Freed. It probably wouldn't work. "Closed off might be because you don't know how to deal with the fact that she's… gone."

"For god's sake," Freed grunted. "Why are you both so insistent that her death is going to destroy me in some way? I am fine."

And he was. He was perfectly fine. Yes, his mother had died a few months ago, but that didn't mean that Freed had to become an inconsolable mess. That wasn't going to happen with Freed, especially considering how he and his mother had been drifting apart, more so after his father had died. And even if they hadn't separated from one another, it didn't mean that Freed was going to have some kind of break down months after the event. That wasn't something that more emotional people went through, so why the hell did they think Freed would?

It was infuriating to think about, now that he was. The fact that the people closest to him in the world were now trying to instil some kind of grief as an explanation for his behaviour. His behaviour that, in his mind, wasn't even that bad. There had been a bad situation, he took a step back from it and tried to calm himself down. If they thought it was an unhealthy way to deal with it, that was their issue.

"We're worried that you're refusing to talk about something," Bickslow insisted. "We don't want you to be dealing with something bad on your own."

"Well that would be quite difficult given you don't seem to be leaving me alone," Freed snapped.

"Come on man," Bickslow sighed. "You don't need to get-"

"So, just allow me to clarify what's happening," Freed spoke quickly, standing up and pacing. He needed to move. "You came here after speaking to Laxus about me behind my back. Now you're here, with your own ideas about why I'm behaving in a way that you believe is antisocial and unhealthy. You then make me explain the situation in detail, then essentially explain my own feelings to me despite the fact neither of you have a damn clue about what's happening in my mind," Freed was breathing hard now, finger running over his palm and jaw tight. "And now you're ignoring all of that, and trying to bring attention to my mother's death for some reason, despite the fact that you've heard me say that I am fine multiple times."

"Freed," Evergreen said patiently – as if he were a child. Why were they treating him like this! "Maybe you should take a few minutes to-"

"You'd already concluded that my supposed 'shut down' was because of my mother's death, correct? You'd probably spoke about it together before coming here," Freed continued, anger rising still. "So why even mention Laxus? Is it just so you can continue the trend of being overly invasive in my life? The moment you realised I was befriending someone around my age who happened to be my type, you started asking pointless questions and making irritating jokes. Perhaps you just wanted more gossip and saw an opportunity."

"Okay, you're not in the best of moods, I understand," Bickslow sighed, standing up. "Maybe we should go."

"You should," Freed snapped.

"Fine," Evergreen muttered, seemingly annoyed herself now. "But turn your fucking phone on, and if Laxus calls you again then answer, because he's worried," She walked to the door, but turned before leaving. "And when you wanna call us and apologise for that last remark, I'll be waiting."

She left the apartment, huffing. Bickslow sighed, patted Freed on the shoulder with a promise of texting him later, before leaving as well.

Freed deflated slightly, falling into his desk chair while his leg jumped up and down with anxious energy. He ran a hand over his face and spun towards his desk, only to be confronted with the sight of the list he had wrote down earlier. And now, after what his friends had said, it was painfully clear that he had missed one thing that he was feeling more than anything else.

'Fear – I don't want to be alone.'

~~~

He'd fallen asleep not long after, curling onto his leather sofa, and drifting off with ease. The sudden rush of adrenaline that had accompanied his anger had deflated not soon after Bickslow and Evergreen had left. It was interesting to know that, after a volatile emotional outburst, you had an overwhelming urge to sleep.

In this situation, you also felt an overwhelming urge to apologise.

Because Bickslow and Evergreen were his friends, and always had been. They weren't the type of people to conspire against him, especially not for something as small as a damn piece of gossip about his relationship with Laxus.

In retrospect, this was entirely obvious. They were good people, and clearly had his best interests at heart. They'd come to his apartment because they were worried about him and they wanted to make sure he was okay, find out what was bothering him, and offer their advice. But, in the moment, he had felt almost attacked by the two of them, as if they were ganging up on him. He had gotten defensive and fought back against what he considered an attack on him.

Now, it felt stupid. And he felt guilty.

Phoning Evergreen would have been the first thing he did after waking up, had it not been his ringing phone being the reason he woke. He took a few second to realise what the sound was, and reached out for his phone from his coffee table; he'd turned the device back on after Evergreen and Bickslow had left. He'd seen a lot of missed texts and calls from his friends when he had.

Incoming Call: Laxus Dreyar

He reached for the mug on the table, drinking down the remainder of his now very cold tea. It woke him up slightly, and he answered the call with a small amount of nervousness filling him. They hadn't spoke since the carnival, and Freed didn't know how to deal with the situation.

"Oh, hey," Laxus voice filled Freed's ears. He sounded worried, and Freed frowned. It wasn't nice to know that he was probably to blame for that. "I didn't expect you to answer."

"Well, Evergreen said you were worried," Freed murmured, looking out his window. It was late evening now.

"Yeah, I was," Laxus agreed.

Freed almost sighed, wondering if he would have been able to admit that so openly. With Laxus, maybe he could have.

"She texted me earlier," He continued, and Freed heard a slight shifting from the phone. He absently wondered what he was doing. A ridiculous thought made worse because, if it weren't for his pride, he would have been with Laxus at that moment. "Apparently when she and Bickslow went to your place to talk to you, you kinda exploded at them."

He said that with a slight laugh in his voice, and it grated on Freed's nerves. "I don't appreciate the fact you're talking about me behind my back."

"You kicked your best friends out of your apartment," Laxus said tiredly. "We're just-"

"How did your even get her phone number?" Freed spoke over him, standing up again. "She came to Magnolia once and you spoke for about five minutes at the most."

"She added me on Facebook," Laxus explained.

"So you're not actually texting, then, are you?" Freed demanded, unaware as to why exactly he was so bothered by this little detail. But he was, and the whispered 'fucks sake' from the other side of the phone didn't help his mood. "You're actually using the messenger app, aren't you? Not the texting app. So you haven't been texting one another, you've been messaging each other. Which is a different thing."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes it does, everything matters," Freed snapped. "Details are important to me, Laxus. I need to know the entire story before I can get involved. And if you-"

"Fucks sake," Laxus spoke loudly. "Will you stop fucking talking."

And he did.

"Look, I get that you ain't in a good mood, and that you probably don't wanna deal with me right now. But tough shit. You kept saying you're okay, and that you don't wanna be treated with kid gloves right?" Laxus demanded, and stupidly Freed nodded. "Well that's what I'm gonna do. So we're gonna talk, we're gonna discuss what happened, and I'm gonna make sure you get over it somehow. Because I wasn't happy when you started avoiding me, and I'm sure as hell not letting you ghost your friends and yell at them if it's because of something I did."

"I don't wish to speak about it."

"Well too fucking bad," Laxus retorted. "We're talking about it. So whenever you're ready, we're gonna start."

Despite his annoyed tone, Freed felt that Laxus was allowing him a kindness by letting him start the conversation. At least this way, he was allowed to frame the events in what way he wanted. He was also allowed some time to think, which he desperately needed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and gathered his thoughts before speaking again.

He needed to be honest. Bickslow had been right in that he felt inexplicably comfortable being vulnerable around Laxus, and he needed to take advantage of that.

"I can be obtuse, at times," Freed confessed. "And sometimes I feel compelled to do things that some people might consider… abnormal. For the most part I'm rather strict about it, but with you, I don't know, you sort of have an effect on this filter I've made. Most of the time you probably won't notice, but I doubt I would have asked to be taught plumbing and electrics from anybody else."

"There's nothing wrong with following your instincts," Laxus said calmly, and Freed felt a little struck by the sudden comfort in his voice. "Especially when it comes to what you wanna do."

"Perhaps," Freed agreed, slightly unwillingly. "But, with what happened between us, it shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have…"

Freed paused. He had to say it. Had to say that he shouldn't have leant in to kiss Laxus. He shouldn't have flirted with him for an afternoon. He shouldn't have gotten so close to him despite knowing both his growing feelings and that a relationship between the two of them would be inappropriate and perhaps impossible.

"…I shouldn't have made you play the game when you clearly didn't want to. I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes, angry at himself now. Why could be not just say what he felt!

"Okay," Laxus said softly, almost as if to himself. "You don't need to feel guilty; about anything that happened. I mean, I wanted to do it too, even if I didn't make it obvious on the day."

The way Laxus was speaking, putting emphasis on certain words, made Freed pay attention. Laxus had perhaps understood that what Freed had meant to apologise for wasn't what he actually said. If that was true, then Laxus had decided that he was going to spare Freed the embarrassment of the situation and instead use the dunk tank as a metaphor. Freed was incredibly thankful, and also almost touched, by the gesture.

"I feel like I pressured you into it," Freed confessed. "That you might have thought I'd actually hold my position against you if you didn't do what I said."

"Freed, I ain't the kind of guy to be intimidated like that. If I thought you were genuinely doing that, I probably would have punched you or something," Laxus said, voice serious enough to calm Freed slightly. "And the fact is, I got up there myself, nobody forced me to do it. I knew the risks and didn't care about it. That was my choice."

A flashed memory of Laxus and Freed's faces being so close, so tantalisingly close flashed into Freed's mind. He reddened slightly at the thought.

"Are you sure?" Freed asked, needing confirmation.

"The only thing about that day that I regretted was leaving the way I did," Laxus said, with honesty in his voice. He then let out a small laugh. "Well, maybe I regret not seeing that the guy running the dunk tank had a towel that I could have used."

"I probably should have told you about that," Freed chuckled quietly.

"You saw it?" Laxus sounded aghast, probably exaggerating his annoyance to calm Freed "Bastard."

"I suppose so," Freed nodded, self-deprecatingly.

"So, are you gonna stop beating yourself up about this now that you know my side?" Laxus asked, voice sounding hopeful now. "Because you've been freaking me out not being here, I've had almost two weeks without smartass comments coming from you," He laughed, before adding honestly. "I missed ya."

"I missed you too," Freed confessed. "I'm sorry. I'll try not to worry you again."

"You don't need to apologise," Laxus assured him. "Well, not to me. Ever might disagree with that."

Freed laughed softly at that, knowing full well that he would have to apologise profusely to his friend very soon. It would most likely be accompanied by a large amount of sucking up to her, to get her favour again. Which of course he would do, because he loved the woman, as antagonising and gossipy as she could be. Though he would have to talk to her about her conversations about him behind his back, as Freed still felt like that was quite invasive.

"Can I- d'you mind if I say something that might be outta line?" Laxus spoke again.

"Of course," Freed said, frowning to himself.

"I think you should move to Magnolia," Laxus rushed his words out slightly, and spoke again before Freed could process what he said. "Not permanently, but maybe until the house is done. I mean you have a place to live there, so it won't cost anything, and I think it could be good to you to get away from Era for a few months."

"You… want me to move to Magnolia?" Freed echoed.

"I know you don't like talking about this, but I think it'll be the only way to come to terms with what happened with your mother," Laxus continued, and Freed went to speak. Laxus got there first. "I get you don't want sympathy, and I'm not giving it to you. But I get what it's like to lose your mother, and have everyone around you expecting you to act in a certain way. It's like they want you to feel sad all the time, and it's like your failing at grief if you're not. People don't get that, but I do."

Freed understood that. Peoples expectations of his grief had bothered him for months.

"W my mom died, I didn't wanna be the sad kid with a dead mom," Laxus sighed. "I did everything I could not to be that kid. But I didn't know what the hell to do, so I just kept going like I was normal. I went to school, I cussed out teachers, I beat kids up. I thought I was fine because everything I was doing was what I normally did. And when I got kicked out, and I lost that structure, I had to get used to who I was now, without her. I couldn't pretend I was who I was before losing her, and had to deal with it."

"So," Freed said after a moment's thinking. "You believe that it would be best for me to leave my normal life so I can… come to terms with her death," He surmised. "Doesn't that seem like I'm running away from the problem?"

"You ain't running away from anything. You're not the type," Laxus had a small smile in his voice. "What you'd be doing is letting yourself grow into the person you are without her, rather than clinging to who you were before."

Freed was silent for a moment, before letting out a single laugh. "You therapist was smart, wasn't she?"

"She was," Laxus agreed.

"Annoying though," Freed continued.

"Definitely," Laxus laughed, before speaking softly. "You're gonna consider it then?"

"I will," Freed nodded.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good," Laxus smiled. "Now, let's talk about you not mentioning the towel to me."

With the joke, Freed felt his relationship to Laxus normalise again. He could almost cry with the relief that flooded through him.

[marshmallow-phd]

Watchful Eyes

Part of the EXO Mafia Universe

Genre: Mafia!AU

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long, Trish, I meant for this to be fluffy, but the story kind of took a turn of its own. I hope you still like it!! (warning: its... long)

**

If someone were to ask you what you thought the quiet man who came into your work nearly every day to order the same coffee, you would have answered something along the lines of corporate lawyer or director or anything else that came with a large paycheck. His suits were always perfectly tailored to fit his short but strong frame. He never wore the same expensive watch twice. And no, it wasn’t weird that you noticed that. You were always an overly observant person, it wasn’t your fault that your brain picked up on the most minute details. It did, however, take you a bit to understand the need to keep those details to yourself. 

You were sure if Rich Man (you knew his name was Kim Jongdae from his debit card that he used to pay each time, but it made you feel less like a creepy stalker if you used a nickname in your head) was aware of how much you’d observed about him, he would never return. And that was the last thing you wanted. You liked seeing him every day, around the same time (approximately eight-thirty in the morning, right after the morning rush). He had become a part of your own routine, your own comfort zone. However, you were never brave enough to make any sort of real conversation with him, no matter how large your crush on him grew. 

“If you keep sighing after him like that I’m going to leave your number on a napkin for him,” your co-worker threatened. 

You nearly slipped as you were wiping down a table. You hadn’t realized the sound you thought was in your head had been verbalized as you watched him walk down the sidewalk through the big window in the front of the cafe. 

“Don’t you dare,” you grumbled through clenched teeth as you straightened up. 

Ignoring your co-worker’s cheeky snickers, you headed back to the counter to start cleaning the espresso machine. A shudder ran down your spine at the very thought of your co-worker actually embarrassing you like that. Because while Mr. Kim was Rich Man, you were very much Poor Woman. But this wasn’t a drama. This was real life and rarely did the successful businessman fall for the lowly coffee girl for no reason whatsoever. He’d probably laugh at any attempt you made to get his attention and then leave to never come back. So you stayed in the background. All you would do was continue to observe Rich Man from afar as life continued on its own mundane way. 

**

Your eyes flickered over to the clock for the tenth time within the last minute as if the time would drastically change. 

Rich Man hadn’t been by your shop for the past three days. Even though it was perfectly normal for regulars to move on and find new places, this didn’t feel right to you. This didn’t feel like the normal change-up. You couldn’t figure out what it was, but something felt wrong. The clock was ticking closer to his usual walk-in time and you were nervous that this might turn into day four.

As your eyes looked towards the clock for the eleventh time, the bell above the front entrance chimed. You turned to greet the new customer and stopped. 

It was him. 

But he was different. 

The jacket of his suit was gone, leaving only the white button down, tie, and slacks. His black hair wasn’t quite gelled into its usual fashion, a few pieces left askew. What really caught your eye, however, was the still-healing bruise next to his right eye. 

Slowly, he approached the counter, wallet already in his hands. He opened his mouth to give you his order, but before you could stop yourself-

“Are you alright?” Immediately, you slapped a hand over your mouth. Stupid, stupid. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.” Instead of scolding you, though, he smiled. 

“I’m alright. Thank you for asking.” He handed over his card and you rang up his order without any prompting. 

As you handed back the card, you realized what you’d done. “I’m sorry. Again. I should have asked-”

“What you should do is stop apologizing,” he smirked. It was evident that he was in some sort of pain, given the slight grimace behind each movement he made, but he was masking it well. “I wanted my usual anyway.” He looked around the shop. “Do you mind bringing me the order when it's done?”

You shook your head. “Of course not. Please, take a seat. I’ll have it right out for you.”

He smiled at you. Genuinely smiled. “Thank you.” With a slight limp, he made his way over to a table near the front entrance. 

I wonder what happened to him... Your mind was racing with all the possibilities. And you were starting to think that maybe, just maybe your earlier assumptions that he worked high up in a legitimate business were incorrect. 

Pushing the negative thoughts away, you got started on his simple coffee order. You tended to pride yourself on your observation of character and Rich Man - no, Jongdae, you’d already passed social graces and asked him a personal question, you might as well revert to his real name - always seemed like a good person. He was kind both to you, the other workers here and any other patrons he passed along the way. Could a man like that really be involved in anything malicious?

Everyone knew about the mafia, EXO, though the leaders who ran it were shrouded in mystery. No one knew their names, only that they existed and had considerable control both in the dark underworld and the legitimate businesses of the city. Could Jongdae be a part of that organization? You didn’t want to believe it, but the money combined with the recent injuries….

No. There was no way. You weren’t going to let your imagination run wild again. There were a hundred explanations for his absence and bruise. 

Warm Americano in hand, you pushed away the negativity and went over to him, placing the cup in front of him. You were just about to walk away when he stopped you. 

“Have you missed me?”

You whirled around. “W-what?”

Smirking to himself, he took off his golden watch of the day, placing it down on the table and rubbing his wrist as if the accessory had been bothering him. Perhaps it was too heavy? Or too tight? “I stopped coming for a few days, but you still remembered how I like my coffee.” He looked up at you with soft eyes that didn’t match the cocky twist of his mouth. “Did you miss me?”

“I noticed you hadn’t come around,” you admitted, although why you admitted it was lost on you. “I just figured you found somewhere else with better coffee.”

He shook his head. “No, I very much like the coffee here.”

Heat exploded in your cheeks. Please, don’t be visibly blushing, you thought. Of course he means the coffee and not the service. “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” you replied softly. “I should get back to the counter.”

With a nod of his head, you were dismissed. 

He only hung around for maybe ten minutes more before going on with his day. When you went over to take care of the ceramic cup he’d left behind, however, you found that he’d left something else as well. 

His watch. 

Swiping it up, you ran outside, searching frantically for him, but it was too late, He’d already disappeared. You pocketed the watch, blowing air out your lips. Surely, he’d come back for it, right? Until then you’d hold on to it, for safekeeping.

**

The day was drawing to a close and Jongdae still hadn’t returned for his watch. Your co-worker made a joke about pawning it for cash, but one glare from you shut them up. After finishing the cleaning list and putting up all the chairs, you slipped on your jacket and headed out. 

The sun was starting to disappear behind the buildings as you made your way to the subway. The wind was picking up so you pulled your jacket in closer to try and keep yourself warm. At the intersection right before your subway entrance, you were stopped by the orange hand saying not to cross. Even though no cars were zooming by, you decided it was better safe than sorry to obey the hand and stand there on the corner for the okay to cross. As you waited, you pulled the watch from your pocket to inspect the details. 

It wasn’t a Rolex like you would have expected. The plate on the back said it was from Bvlgari. You didn’t know much about the brand, but you did know that it was a brand only for the rich. This particular product was simple, but that meant by no means was it cheap. It was solid gold, heavy, with black lines on the face, only the twelve and six printed out in actual numbers. A second, smaller version was seated in the bottom left to represent the second hand. It was pretty, elegant and luxurious. Just like its owner. 

Flipping it over, you found that under the brand name, something else was etched into the surface. 

Chen. 

What did that mean?

“That’s a handsome watch you’ve got there.”

You jumped, not having realized that you were no longer alone. The walking man had come and gone. Now the hand was flashing, telling you it was too late to try and cross, too late to try and put distance between you and the creepy looking man leering over you. It wasn’t his face, necessarily that was creepy - in fact, it was quite average looking. It was the expression on his face that was setting off your alarm bells. 

Replacing the watch in your packet, you stayed quiet, as if he hadn’t spoken at all. 

“Where did you get it?” he asked, undeterred. 

“It’s a friend’s,” you replied. Damn it, why did you have to acknowledge him?

“A friend, you say? What’s his name?”

You cleared your throat to give off a more confident sound than how you really felt. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe it’s any of your business.”

The man scoffed. “Now that’s not very nice.”

Rolling your eyes, you went to look at him to tell him off once and for all, but you were greeted with the barrel of a gun. You suddenly ran cold. Were you about to die because you couldn’t keep the stupid watch in your pocket?

“You can’t have it!” It was a bluff, sure, but you were hoping he would change his mind and walk away. If it really came down to it, you would give it to him. Jongdae had plenty, anyway. Right?

“Oh, I don’t want the watch,” the man snickered. Out of his own pocket, he grabbed a white cloth and held it up menacingly. “It’s you I want. The watch just pointed me in the right direction.”

“Wha- mph!” 

Before you could run, the man snaked an arm around you, covering your nose and mouth with the cloth. The chemical smell you breathed in told you exactly what was happening. You lasted only a minute or so before you blacked out. 

**

You woke up in the back of an SUV, hands tied behind your back and sandwiched between the man who’d kidnapped you and another thug with bulging muscles and a large rifle in his hand. 

“About time you wake up,” the first man laughed. 

You wanted oh so badly to spit some sort of comeback at him, but you’d seen enough movies to know that would end only with you getting a bloody lip - or worse. 

“That’s the signal,” the other man said. He grabbed your upper arm and kicked open the door on his side of the SUV before dragging you out of it. What you saw from there made your jaw drop. 

It was exactly like the movies. An old abandoned warehouse, two groups of men facing each other, twenty feet or so between them. You were apparently on the side of the “obvious bad guys” - they were the ones with large guns and… well you, the clueless victim. 

On the other side of the warehouse was what you could only conclude was the mafia known as EXO. The nine men dressed much more elegantly than your captors, their own pistols holstered on their hips. Most of them were frowning, but one… one in particular actually seemed worried. And it was the one person you’d hoped wouldn’t be there.

“What are you doing with her?” Jongdae demanded. His fist was clenched at his side, mere centimeters away from his gun. 

The man in the middle with the slicked back hair and dark blue suit - the one who looked like the obvious leader - laughed. “I thought I’d bring her along to help with negotiations, Chen.”

Chen? Your gaze landed steadily on Jongdae. Was that his real name? The one etched on the back of his watch? Was Jongdae just a cover for his true self? You felt like an idiot. There was no reason for you to, as you couldn’t say you ever really knew him beyond the customer/cafe girl relationship. But your observation skills had failed you and that within itself was humiliating enough. 

“I don’t see how she matters, Thorn,” said one of the tall members of Jongdae’s group. His face was the most neutral of the lot, his build long and lean. He almost seemed bored, even though your life was very much in danger. 

“What?” the leader named Thorn snorted. “You mean you don’t know about Chen’s little girlfriend? I thought you didn’t have secrets between the lot of you?”

You waited for Jongdae - er Chen (your head was beginning to hurt with all these different names) - to correct him, but to your surprise, he stayed silent. 

One of the other members looked to Chen. “What’s going on?”

Chen shook his head, but not at his member. “I don’t know why you thought to involve her.”

“Weren’t you the one trying to protect her in the first place?” Thorn asked. “Isn’t that why after our last run-in you stayed away from her? But you couldn't do that for long, could you?”

“Just tell us what the hell you want!” Chen shouted.

Thorn looked like he was getting exactly what he wanted. “Hand over my money and the deeds to the river front property on the south end and I’ll let her go.”

“That’s all we get?” sneered the tanned member of Chen’s group. 

“I think that’s a fair deal,” Thorn shrugged. One of the men behind you cocked their gun. One quick glance told you that it wasn’t just a threat. The barrel was pointed at the back of your head. They meant it: accept the deal or you were dead. 

Without verbally agreeing, Chen turned around and headed for his car. The horrifying thought that he was going to let them kill you ran through your mind. But instead of driving off, he reached into the back seat and pulled out two large black duffel bags.

“You bring her to the middle at the same time,” he demanded. 

Thorn gestured at his men with two fingers to bring you. You were dragged unceremoniously to the center as Chen also stepped forward. He threw down the bags. One of the men bent over and unzipped the contents. Bundles and bundles of cash filled the bags, almost bulging from the amount shoved inside. He turned to Thorn and nodded once. Then the other man cut the ropes that bound your wrists, freeing you. He shoved you into Chen, who caught you and held on.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m fine.” Confused, disoriented, and scared, but fine nonetheless. 

“Come on.” He escorted you over to the car and all but shoved you into the passenger's seat. Wordlessly, the others also jumped into their cars and drove off out of the warehouse. 

Well. That was simple. 

But the ride didn’t last long. The groups of cars stopped only a block away. 

“What’s going on?” you asked frantically as you searched around. Were you being followed? Had something gone wrong?

“Shush.” He barely glanced at you as he stared out the windshield. 

Several of the men got out of their cars and placed gas masks over their faces. They walked back towards the warehouse. You held your breath, waiting to see what would happen next. It may have seemed like forever, but according to the clock on the dash, only ten minutes had gone by before the group returned, duffel bags in hand. 

“How did they-” You turned to Chen for an answer to your unfinished question. 

“Gas canisters under the money,” he explained, still not looking at you. “Poisonous. They won’t harm you ever again.” And with that, he threw the car into drive and took off. 

He sped through the city. He said no words to you, leaving you in the dark about what you’d been forced to endure. 

Only when your apartment building came into view did he come to a stop. You stared down the block at your front door. Should you get out now? What would happen to you? Were the ones who’d kidnapped you dead? Would you be next now that you knew the secret identities of the mafia?

“Don’t tell anybody about tonight,” he told you in a warning voice. 

“I won’t,” you promised. Who would believe you anyway? 

Taking that as your signal to leave, you unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the car door. He didn’t stop you as your feet touched the concrete. This felt like goodbye forever. You had a feeling that after this moment, you would never see him again. And it was hurting your heart. Despite the fact that you’d be safer without him, it still hurt. 

“Wait!”

You made it only halfway down the sidewalk when Chen came running after you. A frown pulled at your lips. What could he want now?

But you never got the chance to ask that question out loud when he suddenly grabbed your face and pushed you up against the building wall. His lips were on yours before you could comprehend what was happening. Shock kept you frozen, but only for a few seconds. 

Soon, you were returning the kiss, hands reaching up and digging in his hair and gripping on tight. Red brick poked and prodded your shoulder blades, but you hardly noticed. Your mind was occupied with Jongdae, the feeling of his hands on you, the fire his touch created. 

But Chen ended it almost as quickly as he’d started. He reached into your pocket and pulled out the watch that was still there. Taking ahold of your hand, he slipped it onto your wrist. “I’m sorry.” Then he spun on his heels and went back to his car.

You blinked after the vehicle, unsure of how to feel. The world was tilted, nothing was lining up. 

Letting out a long sigh, you slid down to the ground. Everything felt numb. Not even the coldness of the concrete seemed to bother you. Perhaps you were in shock. Or maybe this was all a weird fever dream, your brain’s explanation for your customer’s long absence. 

Yes… maybe it was all just a dream. 

**

It wasn’t. 

The evidence that it was real was hanging on your wrist when you woke up the next morning. For several minutes, you sat in bed, staring at the watch. None of the previous night’s event made any sense. You didn’t know what to do except to go on until the next time you saw the mafia man. 

But he didn’t show up to the cafe that day. Okay. that was to be expected. 

Then he didn’t show up for a week. Two weeks.

Well, into the third week, you were giving up on ever seeing him again. The chime of the doorbell made you jump, but the customer was never him. Perhaps when he said he was sorry, he really meant goodbye. Maybe your gut was right and you were never going to see him again. 

Every day, you wore the watch, just in case. In case he showed back up. In case you were given the chance to see him again. 

During the slower moments, you would take off the watch and read the strange name over and over. Chen. Chen. Chen. Who was he? And was he so different from the kind soul you’d observed over the months that he’d come to the cafe? You didn’t want to think so. You were sure that, at least deep down, they could be one in the same. 

Closing time had come and you were just about finished with all your chores. The only thing that remained was to take out the trash. The bags were heavy, so you struggled to drag them into the back alley where the dumpsters were located. Grabbing one bag, you lifted it up and with a huff, pushed it into the dumpster. But when you turned to the other bag, someone else had already taken it. 

You watched with a slacked jaw as Chen threw the garbage bag away with ease. 

“Hi,” he greeted. He shoved his hands in his pockets, smiling shyly, crookedly at you. It was small and unsure, perhaps waiting for you to start shouting or become explosive in some way. 

Instead, you stayed quiet. Chen shifted from foot to foot anxiously. The bruise had long ago healed, but he looked more unkempt than ever. His dress shirt was wrinkled and disheveled. No tie hung from his neck and his slacks looked about a day old. Your fingers ached to reach out and fix his hair, but you restrained. 

“How are you?” he asked awkwardly in an attempt to break the tension. 

“Fine.”

He nodded. “Good, good.”

Silence fell again. 

You shook your head. “Who are you? Really?”

“You know who I am,” he said. 

You scoffed. “No, I don’t. Americano with cream. Kim Jongdae. Chen. Mafia member. To me, it seems like you’re many different people.”

A sad sigh left his lips. He held out his hand to you. “Hi. My name is Kim Jongdae. I’m a member of the EXO mafia, codename Chen.”

Part of you wanted to be petty and not shake his hand. But you couldn’t entirely blame him for the secrecy and the disappearing act. You couldn’t even really blame him for your kidnapping. All he did was accidentally leave his watch behind. So, you grasped his hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Jongdae.”

Jongdae dropped your hand, his smile growing a fraction at your openness to him. “I think I should explain…,” he scratched the back of his head nervously. “Well, everything, I guess.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

To your surprise, he laughed. Soon, however, it faded out. “I neve meant for you to get involved. Suho told me months ago to stop coming to see you here at the cafe, but I couldn’t help myself. Something about you just kept bringing me back.” 

Your cheeks burned at his somewhat confession, but you pressed your lips closed. Now was not the time to interrupt. Then you might not get all the answers. 

“I didn’t know Thorn’s men were following me until about a month ago. They cornered me. I was able to kill one of them before the others ran away. Right before the man died, he made a comment about how I’d better keep an eye on my coffee girl, in case something should happen.” Jongdae winced at that, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more. “I couldn’t see you right away. I was too beat up for that. I was relieved when I saw that you were fine. But… I was still worried. I left my watch behind that day on purpose, hoping you’d keep a hold of it.”

Now you had to intercede. “Why? What was the point of that?”

He looked down guiltily. “I had Baekhyun put a tracking device in the wrist band of it. I wanted to make sure you were safe. In the end, I just made things worse. The watch was the proof they were waiting for, to see if you were important enough to use against me.”

You wanted to be angry. You wanted to be annoyed, stomp away while screaming for him to never show his face in front of you again. If he’d come a few weeks ago, you might have. But those feelings had depleted over time. Logic had taken over. Certain things were just out of his control. And… well, you were a little happy that he hadn’t listened to this Suho person and kept coming to the cafe. Flattered, really, if a bit shy about it. 

You didn’t even think about it. Your foot took that first step and the next thing you knew, your arms were wrapping around his torso and you were resting your cheek against his chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For not letting them kill me.”

He was quick to return the embrace, holding you tight against him. “I never would have let that happen to you. One way or another, I would have gotten you out of there.”

Sighing, you leaned back to look at Jongdae. Your mind was still a bit scrambled at all of this. Your previous observations weren’t making any sense to the confession being laid out in front of you. Especially the one where you thought he hardly noticed you. “I must be out of my mind.”

He frowned at you. “Why do you say that?”

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips to his, surprising him like he did to you that night outside your apartment. But unlike you, he didn’t hesitate in the slightest. With one hand cupping your jaw and the other firmly planted on the small of your back, he pressed you even closer to him so no space remained between your bodies. He didn’t pull away until both of you needed to replenish the air in your lungs. Looking into his eyes, you couldn't help but be nervous. Because you knew the danger this man brought. You’d already lived it. But you were in too deep now. And you weren’t sure you wanted to pull yourself out of it, anyway. 

**

You bounced from foot to foot, eager for the end of your shift to come. For months, Jongdae had been begging you to quit, to let him take care of you. But you liked having the schedule, having something to do all day while he was working with the others. You also preferred not to have your rent and other necessities paid for by, well, by money that wasn’t completely clean. 

There were times where you wished Jongdae wasn’t living the life he was, but you couldn't change him. You wouldn’t even try. You’d accepted who he was since you first learned about his truth. That didn’t mean you had to be consumed by his world as well. You could still keep your life and have him, too. At least for now. 

“Oh, just go already,” your co-worker grumbled as they rolled their eyes. 

Not even arguing, you ripped off the apron and ran to the office to clock out. Your heart was racing at the simple thought of seeing Jongdae. It was date night for the two of you and you were especially excited since it’d been nearly a week since you last saw him. 

You’d barely made it out the door before a pair of arms snatched you from behind. A scream erupted from your throat until you heard the tell-tale laughter in your ear. 

“Jongdae!” You turned around in his arms and slapped his shoulder, but he kept laughing, enjoying your startled state.

He kissed your lips, still smiling. “I missed you.”

You tried not to smile. You really did. But you lost fairly quickly. “I missed you, too.” 

Holding up your hand, he slid his fingers in between yours. It felt right, his hand in yours. Like you’d been cold all this time and he was the only thing that could keep you from dying of hyperthermia. His warmth was infectious and addicting. Even when the two of you argued and fought over his lifestyle choices, you always found yourself back in his presence. You just couldn’t let him go. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said. 

You scrunched your face. “Another one?”

“This one isn’t jewelry,” he promised. Releasing your waist, he pulled you towards his car and helped you into the passenger’s seat. As soon as he was settled behind the wheel, he took ahold of your hand again, kissing your knuckles softly. Then he looked at you cheekily. “Ready?”

“With you?” You smiled broadly. “Always.”

Your answer made him grin so widely that he looked like a kid. It made your heart skip a beat, the innocence, the love behind it. And it was all for you. Always for you. 

It was funny to you, where you were now versus only a few months ago. You went from being the background girl who looked a little too closely to person by Jongdae’s side, the man who felt out of reach. He wasn’t perfect, he wasn’t a knight in shining armor. But he was yours. And that was enough. 

[delightfulstarlightparadise]

Stardew valley Imagine. Reader/ Sebastian (?)

-Before we start, oce again I remind you that English is not my main language, but I am doing my best.

“I didn’t think you were so tired to the point of passing out in that sofa.” Sebastian says while taking a drag of his cigarette. “If I knew we would have come earlier.”

“Aw... I shouldn’t have drink that beer.” you say, feeling sick to your stomach.

“If you are going to throw up, please do it in some bush and not near me.”

You didn’t even bother answering him. Next thing you knew, you were kneeling down barfing behind a tree. You were not very used to drinking.

“Sorry.” you say when you can finally talk.

“What about?”

“Everything.”

He shrugs and helps you stand up.

“You are... different.” he says.

“I know, I am weird.”

He laughs.

“You think you are weird? My best friend is the weirdest person I know. Being different in a town like this is not a bad thing you know?” he says.

You stare at him for a while too long, he blushes showing is uncomfort.

“You didn’t pass as a supportive type at first.” you say.  

“Don’t get used to it.” he says smirking at you.

When you arrive the farm you can see that the seeds you planted in the morning had turned into little saplings already. You shake your head, sure that it is a prank of your dizzy mind, but they are there.

“Sebastian, can you see those or am I really wasted?” you ask him, pointing at the saplings.

“I can see them, but I am also pretty sure you ARE wasted.” He mocks you.

“How can it be?! I planted them this morning!” you look at him completely astonished.

“So what?” he asks.

“They were not supposed to grow like this… I mean, this is crazy!”

“Oh really? I don’t understand much about farming.” he says while getting another cigarette from his pocket. “I will be going now, ok? Thanks for the game, I had fun. Destroying Sam every time was starting to get boring.

As he goes, you sit down on your porch staring at those little saplings.

…

You have a dream.

You are playing with your cousins by the mountain river. A younger Sam and a younger Sebastian are there too. Sebastian is ginger back then, but Sam’s hair still challenges gravity somehow. There is a third boy that is not from your family, he is brunette, very alethic and seems to like you a lot.

Sebastian challenges you all: who can go up a tree by the shore faster. You are the first to run there, before anyone even agrees to the bet. He doesn’t like it and runs as fast as he can, followed by the other boy and your cousins. Sam kind of gets left behind.

You start climbing the tree so fast, you didn’t even remember being so agile, you feel like a feral squirl. The other boy is right behind you, he even tries to hold your foot and tickle you, but you don’t give up. As you laugh together, Sebastian gets to pass you, but you quickly follow after him.

Somehow you manage to get to the top first, Sebastian is all sweaty and puffing. The other boy comes after and congratulates you on the win. He kisses you on the cheek and you get all red about it. Sebastian doesn’t like it, actually he seems really jealous. You think it is about you having won and start mocking on him.

You call him gingerbread man. He hates it and pushes you. Because of your weigh the branch you fall on cracks and you fall on the river. You can see both Sebastian and the other boy reaching towards you.

Your head hits a rock and you get unconscious. But actually, you just can't move, you still can see... everyone is jumping on the water after you, but you feel like you are nowhere to be found. Maybe that is it, your short life has come to an end.

You hear a funny sound and turn your head to the left. You see an apple.

The apple has two eyes and pink cheeks.  

There are others, they are all around you, making that funny sound and lifting you up from the bottom of the lake.

Next thing you see, a hand grabs your wrist, lifted by the little apple spirits. You are pulled out of the water by Sebastian, he has almost drowned too. He is crying and doesn’t stop apologizing, but you aren’t able to say anything to him, the words don’t come out.

You spend some days in the hospital, all your vitals are ok, but you keep seeing those little apple spirits around. The adults are afraid you had too bad of a concussion and no one believes in you... except for... grandpa?  

He says you were saved by the forest spirits, but your mother and father tell him not to incentive these kind of thoughts in you. Eventually, they stop taking you to Stardew valley.

The longer you are away, the more you forget about your time there.

When you wake up, the dream seems like a shadow, but you feel very different.

…

They were even bigger! From one night to the other, the saplings have grown as much as they should in a week.

“Am I going insane?” you ask yourself.

You water them and put some extra fertilizer, then you decide to go to the city and buy some food for the farm. When you arrive there, you see Mayor Lewis in front of a big old house behind the square.

“Oh, hi y/n!” he calls you, as you two seem to be the only people around. “Come here a second.”

You feel a little annoyed. Is it going to be like this now? Every day that amount of interaction in your life... how can you handle it?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Lewis.” you say.

“Call me Lewis.” he says with a gentle smile. “Do you remember this place?”

You take a look at it. Everything is so broken and old you can swear it is probably haunted. You can’t seem to remember anything like it.

“I see.” he says. “You were so young, but you, your cousins and your grandpa used to come here. This is the community center of Pelican town. Well... it used to be. Come on in.”

You follow him inside and it looks even worse than the outside.  Bindweed has taken over the walls, there isn’t a single piece of wood that is not broken or rotten and there is even a tree fully grown in the corner of the main hall, but even that tree seems to be decaying.

“This used to be the heart of the town, everyone in the community gathered here for parties, birthdays and even city events.” he says. “But as time went by... it seems like these kinds of things are not as important nowadays.”  

He starts a discourse about how people would rather watch TV instead of gathering with the community, but you can’t follow because... there is an apple jumping by the window.

“Y/n, what’s with you?” the mayor asks turning to the place you are looking.

It immediately disappears.

“It was...” you are about to tell him about the apple but, why bother? “I think I saw a mouse.”

“This place is probably infested by mice, it has been closed for so long.” He says and sighs. “It is sad to see it like this. But I think that is what happens to old things, see Paradise farm, for example. Good that now you are there to rebuild it. Too bad for this place, there aren’t people willing to do it.”

“Did you ask people?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Unfortunately, every time we set to rebuild everyone was busy with something else. Eventually, I think everyone just gave up.” the mayor let go a long sigh. “And since Joja Mart came to town, they keep making offers to buy it and turn it into a warehouse. I am thinking about selling it by the end of this year... the city could use the money.”

You look around once more. It does seem sad to let ANYTHING that once was good end up in Joja corporation’s hands. Wasn’t this what happened to you.  

You feel a strange connection to the place.

“Anyway, I must be going now. Have some mayor duties to accomplish. Thanks for giving an old man some time to be nostalgic.” he says and chuckles. “I will leave this place open if you want to take a look, maybe you can find some of you Paradise kid’s old toys in the crafts room.”

It is weird because you wouldn’t usually do something like that, but as the mayor went away, you started exploring the rooms and they seemed to bring you back some blurry memories. Maybe you played with your cousins in that corner. Maybe you attended someone’s birthday and ate cake by that old table. Maybe you sat with your grandpa in front of that big fish tank and he told you stories about fishing.

You hear a sound and it immediately makes you turn to the decaying tree in the corner of the main hall. Your heartbeat increases as you see not one, but many apple spirits jumping around and waving at you. They seem to be talking but you can’t quite understand.

“What the hell is going on with me?” you say, rubbing your eyes and shaking your head.

They are still there.  

One of them, a green one makes you a sign for you to follow it Still uncertain, you do, and it takes you to a golden scroll in the middle of the crafts room. You see there is something written there, but you can’t quite understand it.

“Junimos?” is the only thing you can discern.

The little apple starts jumping and making that funny sound as if it is agreeing to you.

“You are Junimos?”

It seems even more excited. The more it makes those funny sounds, the more it seems like it is saying your name.

“You know me, isn’t it?”

It seems to agree.

“You saved me that day.” you say. “So either everyone was wrong and I didn’t go crazy back then, or I am going crazy right now.”

“You are certainly not going crazy, my dear.”

You yell as you listen to a voice come from behind you and a figure comes from the shadows of the corner of the room. A purple bearded wizard dressed up in a fine robe walks towards you.

“Don’t be afraid. I am Rasmodius, the Wizard, keeper of the secrets of the forest, master of the elemental’s knowledge... you get the picture.”

“Where did you come from?!” you yell as you try to step back, but you end up tripping and falling.

“I have been paying close attention to you for the past couple of days. You are the one whose arrival was foreseen by the valley. The one connected to the forest powers, the one to change the valleys destiny... well you, my friend, are a hero to become.”

“What the fuck is going on here? Am I dreaming? Am I dead? Am I dreaming in a comma?” you star hyperventilating. “I have gone crazy, that is it. I finally lost it!”

“Please, calm down.” the wizard says as he can see you going pale.

“Oh my, what if I never left Zuzu city? I must still be in bed, I need to wake up to go to work, that is it! I am not crazy I am just sleeping...”

The little Junimo beside up jumps and slaps your face with his little stick hand and it hurts way more than it seems to be possible.

“What the...” you say, but it seems to take you away from your anxious thoughts.

“As I was saying...” the Wizard cleans his throat. “You were brought back to this valley to help it heal from the many hazards it has been imposed by both mankind and witchcraft. Also, I have seen, to change the destiny of the people who live here.”

“Me?” you screech with unbelief. “Man, I can’t barely fix my own life.”

The wizard chuckles.

“Well, sometimes to help another one is the best way of helping oneself.” he says.

“What the hell is going on?” you say rubbing your temples.

“You will understand when the time is right.” the wizard replies. “For now, drink this.”

He extended to you a cup filled with a green liquid.

“You are kidding right?” you say.

“No, you are supposed to drink. These are the ingredients from the forest, it will help you understand the language of the elementals.” he says.

“I am not drinking it.”  

The Junimo beside you starts jumping and puffing in a way to demonstrate impatience and he seems so angry that you take the cup from the wizard’s hand and, after taking a nauseated look at the content, you drink it.

You feel dizzy and things start moving a lot slower. You can see the memories of yourself as a kid running among trees, playing in the river, collecting and eating savage berries. You see yourself playing with animals, riding a horse, rolling in the mud with grandpa's pig.

You see the faces of some people from the town. You are beside them, helping them and doing nice things, things you had never thought you would do in your life. You feel happy to help, you feel like a part of something. And then... there is this someone you suddenly see yourself kiss.

“If you might ever need me... meet me in the towers west Cindersap forest.” you hear the Wizard’s voice.

As you open your eyes, you see the image of a man and a girl, both with glasses in front of you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?” you hear Maru’s voice coming from the distance. “Oh my Yoba, what a scare you gave me!”

“What? Where am I?” you say slowly sitting down and looking around.

“You are in the clinic. Maru found you passed out near the fountain. You have symptoms of an insulation, perhaps you have been working too hard in the farm.” the man says, adjusting his glasses. “I am doctor Harvey.”

“Insulation? Last thing I remember I was drinking that green thing from the wizard...”

Both Maru and the doctor stare at you, looking concerned.

“I mean, I probably had a bad dream while passed out. Thanks for bringing me Maru, sorry for the trouble.” you say.

“No problem, I am stronger than I look.” she says. “Now lay down, you are taking intravenous medicine, you seem to be very poorly nourished. Have you been skipping meals?”

She gently pushes you into laying down.

“I forget to eat sometimes.”

“That is very hazardous! Even more being a farmer and working a lot in the sun and with so much physical effort!” says Harvey, looking very angry.

He gives you a full lecture about the importance of eating healthy and says that he is going to give you some supplements. You are actually worried about how you are going to pay for the treatment.

…-

Next part here:

Credits for the pose reference: https://snuffysbox.tumblr.com/post/160658875287/have-another-angsty-draw-your-otp-%E1%95%95-3-%E1%95%97-please 

[likecastle]

Witcher Noir AU, pt 17

More Witcher noir AU! Previous parts here. 

“So this was your big plan?” Jaskier asks, looking around them with a dubious expression. “Somehow I thought your next move would be a little more . . . daring.”

Geralt follows Jaskier’s gaze, scanning the room for Cirilla’s pale blonde hair. There’s no sign of her, but it’s early yet, the crowd thin ahead of the first morning rush.

“After an assassination attempt, a little light breaking and entering, and a police interrogation, waking up at the crack of dawn for the twenty-five cent special at the automat hardly seems like an escalation.” Jaskier pokes at the gelatinous eggs on his plate. “Really, Geralt, you’ve got to consider the fundamentals of the three-act structure when you make these choices. Where’s the drama?”

“Had to be early,” Geralt says, glancing out the plate glass window at the sidewalk across the street. The corner is empty for now, the front of the hotel quiet. “If they come in again, it’ll be before his shift starts.”

Jaskier frowns at him over the edge of his coffee cup. “Are you ever going to let me in on what, exactly, we’re doing here? Or has this all been an extremely elaborate ruse to take me out to eat? Because if it is, you could have just asked me out like a normal person.”

This distracts Geralt from his surveillance. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks, but Jaskier doesn’t even seem to notice.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” he goes on, wincing at the coffee. “I’m having a lovely time, really I am.” He sets his cup down and pushes it away. “But the last time I was here this early, I’d just watched the sun come up from the Palace’s rooftop bar and I was still drunk. Which I’d say, judging by the looks of our fellow diners, isn’t an unusual state of affairs around here at this hour.”

“Hm,” Geralt replies. The crowd does look a little worse for wear—a few lean-and-hungry artist types splitting a single plate of food between them, and a couple of drunks who look like they’re trying to sober up before heading home after a night out on the town. He wonders what Cirilla made of this place, as she sat here waiting for the newsboy to finish his shift the other day. It’s certainly a change from the luxury hotel across the street, and a far cry from what Cirilla must be used to. But Calanthe’s granddaughter is tough—has to be, to have escaped her grandmother’s killer—and she’s not likely to be intimidated by some down-on-their luck regulars. Geralt prefers to picture her deep in thought, absorbed in some kind of plan that is as yet inscrutable to Geralt.

“So that’s a no, then?”

Geralt has to admit he may have lost the thread of their conversation. “What?”

“You’re really not going to tell me what’s going on here? What did I tell you about keeping secrets? It’s only charming up to a point, Geralt.” Jaskier takes another nervous sip of his coffee, and recoils. “Ugh, that really is abysmal. I mean, I can’t fault you for wanting to play things close to the vest. I know I haven’t exactly given you a lot of reasons to trust me, but—”

“It’s not . . .” Geralt doesn’t like the thought that Jaskier blames himself for Geralt’s reticence. “It’s just, I’m not used to . . .” He waves his hand to indicate the space between them, the gesture hopelessly vague. “I’ve worked alone for a long time. Don’t have to explain yourself much when you’ve got no one to talk to.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says quietly, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Well, for the record, I like it when you talk to me.”

Geralt’s noticed. “Before I came to talk to you that first time, I spoke to a kid who sells newspapers out in front of the Palace. I didn’t put it together at the time, but when I saw that napkin in Cirilla’s purse, a few thing started to make a little more sense. I think he was looking out for her.”

“And you want to see if they’ll come back,” Jaskier concludes.

Geralt nods. “It’s a longshot, but long shots are all I’ve got at the moment. Speaking of which, I should make a phone call, but . . .” He glances at the door, reluctant to give up his surveillance of the street.

“I can keep watch for a few minutes,” Jaskier says. “What’s the kid look like, in case he comes in without her?”

“Black, tall for fourteen or fifteen. He was wearing a cap pulled down low on his head, last time I saw him.”

“Got it,” Jaskier says. “Go on, I’ve got this. You’ll be gone, what, five minutes? The worst thing that could possibly happen in that amount of time is that I’ll contract food poisoning, all right? It’ll be fine.” Jaskier smiles reassuringly, and he looks so terribly lovely in that moment that Geralt almost can’t stand to look at him.

There’s a phone booth half a block down the street. Geralt calls his answering service, and the operator informs him he has half a dozen messages from Renfri—all simply telling her to call her back. As he dials Renfri’s number, he tries to school the hopeful feeling expanding in his chest.

Renfri answers on the third ring, sounding annoyed to be woken to early. “This had better be good,” she snaps.

“You’re the one who wanted me to call you,” Geralt points out.

“Oh, it’s you.” Renfri’s voice softens, but not by much. “Finally.”

“What’s up?”

“So you know how you asked me to figure out how Stregobor was connected to Emhyr?” Geralt doesn’t respond, because he knows better than to interrupt Renfri. “Well, it turns out to be a more interesting question than I originally thought. Everybody I talked to said Stregobor’s been in Emhyr’s pocket ever since Emhyr first turned up on the scene, back around the time we entered the war.”

Geralt is surprised to realize that Emhyr, who is easily the most influential person in the city, has only been a player for a handful of years. It’s easy to believe that those in power have always been in power, but this is a reminder that their control is more tenuous than they like to admit. Emhyr rose to power over the course of only a few years, and Calanthe’s grasp on the city was destroyed in a moment. Who can say what things might look like tomorrow?

“Emhyr has made several major donations to the Policeman’s Brotherhood, the department’s so-called charitable organization—though from what I’ve heard, that money helps more for dirty cops than widows and orphans.” Renfri rustles some papers on the other end of the line. “And there’s pretty much a direct pipeline for disgraced cops to go work for Emhyr—anyone who’s been fired from the department, Emhyr will snap them up to work for one of his security teams, no questions asked. It all sounds like pretty bog-standard police corruption to me.”

“So what’s the interesting part?” Geralt asks.

“The thing that struck me as odd was that nobody seemed to be able to tell me anything about Emhyr from earlier than five or six years back. Nobody just comes out of thin air like that, you know?”

“Hm,” Geralt says.

“Exactly.” He can hear that sharp edge in her voice that tells him she’s about to get to the good part. “So I did a little digging—you know, to try and see if I could figure out how the two of them had first started working together. Guess what I found?”

“I didn’t call to play twenty questions,” he reminds her.

“Spoilsport,” Renfri says, but that tense excitement doesn’t leave her voice. “Emhyr owns this little import-export business called Amell Transport International—which, on its own, isn’t anything unusual. Guys like him usually have all kinds of shell corporations and even legitimate businesses to provide cover for their criminal dealings. But get this: when the business was first established in 1941, Amell Transport International was called Urcheon Enterprises, and Stregobor was the only name listed on the original article of incorporation.”

Geralt squints down at the pay phone, struggling to make sense of this development. Amell Transport International is where Eist was killed, where Cirilla returned for some unknown reason, and Urcheon has to be the word that was written on the water-marked napkin Geralt found in her abandoned purse. “So Stregobor sold Emhyr his import business?”

“That’s what I thought at first,” Renfri says, “but then I noticed something even stranger.” She doesn’t pause for suspense this time. “The address Stregobor listed on that original paperwork? It’s not his home address. It’s a townhouse owned by none other than Calanthe.”

Geralt’s stomach drops and his limbs turn cold. “Did you say ’41? When in 1941?”

“December, I think. Why?”

Just then, Geralt becomes aware of a commotion coming from down the street. He turns to see several people rushing out of one of the nearby storefronts, screaming as they scatter in all directions. But it’s not just any shop, he realizes with a lurch. They’re fleeing from the automat.

“Renfri,” he hears himself over the sudden ringing in his ears, “I’ve got to go.”

*

Part eighteen

[dbittz]

Thoughts on a Resident Evil TV Show

I’ve been playing through the Resident Evil 2 Remake lately since I don’t have the RE3 Remake yet and it’s got me thinking about a Resident Evil TV show. There has been rumors and talks of one on and off but nothing consistent or reassuring.  This a long post. These are just my thoughts/something I’d like to see. Some spoilers for the RE Universe if you like don’t know anything. 

First and foremost, the show should remain as true to the source material as it can while having the flexibility to explore and create it’s story. 

Plot/Focus/Theme: The story should focus on The Umbrella Corporation and the people behind/working for the company. It should show the corruption and secrecy within Umbrella along with how the company turns people into monsters, allows us to explore the character and morals of the researchers working for Umbrella. Ideally, it would focus around a set of four characters as the raise up in the ranks. They are Albert and Alex Wesker, William Birkin, and Annette. These are some of the most prominent people behind Umbrella aside from the founders (who we’ll see but are often the mysterious puppeteers behind the scenes.)  Theme would be how our environment, the people we work with, change us for better or worse. While also exploring the morals and philosophy of science and eugenics since Umbrella was created as front for a bunch of old white guys to create the perfect society/race.

 Setting: The show should take place in the 1900’s, 1970-90s I think is the correct time frame. I think it’s important the show takes place around the same time the games did which took place during the time they were developed in the late 90’s. This will keep with the horror of the show but also allow us to see how advanced Umbrella really is and how powerful the company is. One of my favorite times we see this in the Resident Evil 2: Remake when you first enter the Umbrella lab and you see how clean, how futuristic the lab is compared to the rest of Raccoon city. Keeping the separation during that time is key to the story of Umbrella. There of course could be time jumps and there would be flashbacks to the creation and founding of Umbrella.

           The primary location would be the Umbrella Executive Training School and Laboratory with the Arklay mansion being constructed and by proximity the Arklay mountains/forest. This would allow us to fully explore the early stages of T-virus and Progenitor virus development and the parts the characters played. Raccoon City would exist as primarily an escape for our characters along with allowing us to explore the hold Umbrella had on the City and see the corruption with the officials.

 Characters: Albert Wekser- One of the most well known and popular characters in RE, Wesker was a part of a secret project by Oswell Spencer to create the perfect race. Exploring Albert’s background and how he became the man he is would be fun, especially considering Wesker is one of the people to betray Umbrella and bring the corporation down. Wesker, like most of the characters, would start of a young researcher, (late teens, early 20s) planted into Umbrella alongside Alex by Spencer. Albert is Spencer’s favorite and expects much from Albert. We’d be able to explore if Wesker was always the manipulator who didn’t trust even though he and Birkin are often considered friends so were they or did Albert just use William? We’d be able to explore his relationship with Alex, a relatively new character who like Albert has a lot expected of them. I like to think that are rivals and while they do “care” for each other in some way, their sibling relationship is nowhere near the relationship of Alexia and Alfred’s. Perhaps their relation is better than the Ashford twin’s relationship, especially considering the twins relationship could be seen as “abusive” with how Alexia treats Alfred as a solider and Alfred worships his sister. That’s just something the show explore along with Albert’s military training and the creation of S.T.A.R.S while building up his distrust and exit of Umbrella. He remains loyal to them but at what point did Albert start to question not only Umbrella but Spencer, the man who had him created, who “raised” him and gave him everything he needed to succeed? What exactly was his relationship with William like? Was Wesker always so serious and mysterious or was he carefree at some point? Why does he wear sunglasses? We can infure in later games they are to hide his mutation as a result of the virus he used in Resident Evil, but why did he always wear them? Were they an intimidation technique or did he need to wear them because the way he was created made his eyes extremely sensitive to light? There is so much to explore with Wesker like did he have any romantic relations with anyone? He has a son so when and who was that mysterious person or was Jake created like Wesker himself?

 Alex Wesker- Alex is similar to Albert but she wasn’t as praised by Spencer. Maybe it’s because she had a stronger love for literature and philosophy instead of virology or science? She stuck with it and rose in Umbrella because she was expected to, but maybe she didn’t love it. Exploring her character and background would be a lot of fun. She’s a new character connected to a lineage that has a strong history throughout the game so being able to explore her more and see how she differs from Albert would be a lot of fun. It’s also curious to note that she discovered the truth behind her and Albert’s creation so how does that affect her? Does she tell Albert? We see in RE: 5 that Albert didn’t know until he confronted Spencer and he didn’t handle it well so how did Alex handle it? I don’t have much to say about Alex considering she’s still so new but also because I feel like her mystery and the fact she’s always been overshadowed by Albert, and others, could help to develop and make her an interesting character.

 William Birkin- A child prodigy taken in by Umbrella. The biggest things the show should explore with William is his relationship with Annette, how betraying Marcus affects him and eventually causes him to leave Umbrella as he become more paranoid about his own work being stolen. Exploring how he discovers G and rises in the Umbrella ranks would also be fun. Exploring his friendship with Albert. Much like Albert, William has a lot of pressure on him to do great things and he has a bit of an ego because of his genius and, up until Alexia shows up, being the youngest person recruited by Umbrella. I think William sees both Albert and Annette as equals. As I mentioned before I think a big part of William’s character we’d need to explore in the show is how not only he becomes the perfect, immoral Umbrella employee but how he becomes more and more paranoid that the same thing that happened to Marcus will happen to him. His life work is going to be threatened so he has to do everything he can to stay in Umbrella’s favor, to make sure he stays on top. Alexia, a new prodigal child shows up and threatens his intellect and work so maybe he tries to have her killed but fails because Alexia was expecting it. William is a genius but as we’ve seen in his appearance in Resident Evil, he is also an extremely emotional man. Exploring how William goes from being the most hopeful, Umbrella Student, to just another immoral scientist to one completely consumed by Paranoia and obsessed with his work to the point where he begins to neglect his family would allow for a great and tragic character arch that will leave viewers feeling sorry for William cause we all know how his story ends, he becomes a literal monster as a result of his time at Umbrella and we have no reason to sympathize. He was just another immoral Umbrella scientist playing god. Yeah, he had a family, but he didn’t seem to care, all he cared about what his work. Exploring his rise and fall would give fans that connection, it would make them care so that when they see/hear what happens to William and the Birkin family in Resident Evil 2, they can sympathize.

 Annette- We don’t know much about Annette’s history prior to Resident Evil 2, so being able to explore her background and how she and William started dating would be interesting and fun. I like to think that Annette was the first person that William saw as an Equal instead of a rival. Albert was a friend, a rival, a conspirator, Alexia was a rival, but Annette was an equal that William could confide in, could trust with their work. I also like to think that while William may have been the genius behind G, Annette was the driving force, the one who pushed William and helped him with his success by being the clinical eye to their work. We see this in the Resident Evil 2 remake with how Annette is taking constant notes and observations on a mutated William while also taking responsibility to destroy the creature. William was the brains, Annette was the heart and together they were unstoppable. I think the relationship between Annette and William would be the only romantic relationship the show would have. We could explore options with Wesker, he does have a son after all, but William and Annette are the biggest known couple within Umbrella so exploring their relationship and seeing if there really was a love there or did they just marry because they were only ones they could trust with their work? I like to think that despite the affect Umbrella had on the two, they did love each other but as the years went on and they came closer to a breakthrough with G and William began to lose himself to his paranoia, their love began to die thus making them “married to their work.” That love is still clearly there as Annette struggled to kill William before he fully mutated but it’s possible their relationship was already on the rocks and the only reason they were staying together is because of Sherry and they felt they could only trust each other. Perhaps the two weren’t very expressive with their love and emotions, only showing them during times of triumph or success, such as discovering/creating G. I’ve always wondered, if the two were so committed to their work, why did they have a child? They are both very intellectual people so they must’ve known having a child would take them away from their work. They are upper class so they could have a nanny but still begs the question, why bother having a child in the first place? It’s possible Sherry was an “accident” something conceived as a result of one of their few moments of passion, expressed love as a result of something greater. Being an optimist, I like to think Annette and William did love Sherry, but Umbrella forced them to be distant, so they didn’t endanger her. Exploring Annette’s character outside of her marriage to William should be the first most thing, Annette is a strong character outside of her marriage, but it’s also important to explore that relationship because like I said, the Birkin relationship is the only real relationship we know of and we need that connection so we can better explore how Umbrella destroys lives.  

 Alexia and Alfred Ashford- The Ashford twins are only going to show up for maybe a season or a few special guest episodes. Simply because they are young and they got their own stuff to go through that doesn’t concern everything happening in the Arklay mountains/Raccoon city. I can see the two showing up one season, being brought by their father to show off Alexia to Spencer and the rest of Umbrella to prove he isn’t a failure for maybe a week or a couple months. Alexia, being a genius, would of course begin to make strides and overshadow our main cast while Alfred is simply there to help. Maybe there is a plot by William to kill Alexia, something Albert doesn’t advise, but he goes through with. Alexia expects it and simply is unphased by the attempt and uses it to further her own research/goals before she and Alfred leave. Alfred would primarily be there to support Alexia. We could also explore their relationships. They are very close and dependent on each other so seeing their teamwork would be a fun counter to perhaps how William and Annette work or how Albert and Alex’s relationship isn’t normal or perfect. It would also be interesting to explore if growing up in Umbrella is what made the twins so sadistic or was it the abuse of their father. It can be inferred that Alfred was more abused than Alexia, Alexia being the favorite because of her intellect with Alfred only being above average, so exploring that would also allow us to see how being raised in an environment where morals mean nothing can turn young great minds to crazy scientists. We’d obviously see a lot more of Alfred’s co-dependence on Alexia in their youth during their time on the show and how Alexia manipulate Alfred and turns him into the perfect loyal solider. Their relationship could be shown as creepy in that maybe their love for each other goes beyond sibling love or was it really there out of a need to survive? Alfred shouldn’t be shown as an idiotic lackey. He is intelligent, just not as intelligent as Alexia. His intellect could be shown in military skills, in his adult life he is a commander, and his ability to manipulate people just as well as his sister. It’s also possible Alfred is a bit more sadistic than Alexia, finding joy in tormenting those that threaten or oppose his sister. Alexia shows off while at the labs, but she’s bored by how simple and easy everything is. It doesn’t challenge her. They can, and should, be shown as spoiled brats but it shouldn’t be obnoxious, they do have manners and honor due to their family name and linage, but they do think that makes them better than some people. Maybe Alexia finds what she is looking for to complete her T-Veronica virus in the mountains or maybe it’s where she has her epiphany about ants. Like I said, the Ashford twins are a season, two at most but it’s important to include them because they are part of the Umbrella legacy and Umbrella problem.

 The Founders: The background and history of the founders up to the creation of Umbrella and after should be explored as it’s key to the corruption and evil within Umbrella but the entire show shouldn’t focus on them.

Oswell E. Spencer- Spencer can be shown and explored but much like in the games, Spencer should be more of a strange, shadowy figure controlling Umbrella and manipulating it to fit his goal of creating the perfect race and making him a god.

James Marcus- Perhaps the only founder we’ll see the most of, Marcus is the mentor to our group and the one pushing them to excel while doing his research into T-Virus. He shouldn’t be shown as a father figure or a good guy, he is a manipulative, science/research obsessed mad man who is just as bad as Spencer. He influences Albert and William, making them as corrupt and evil as he but his death, his betrayal should impact the two, and others, because that should be the moment that even their positions in Umbrella isn’t secure. The death of Marcus should be the point that really changes the cast as they continue to grow and work for Umbrella and realize the evil of the company and as they become infected with that evil.

Edward Ashford- is dead by the time of our story so most of our exploring of his character will be in flashbacks as we explore the creation of Umbrella and as he is mentioned by the Ashford, Spencer, and Marcus. Like the other founders, he’s not a good person but he is the first one to die, murdered by Spencer, so exploring how that affects Spencer and maybe even all of Umbrella could be a fun venture.

Alexander Ashford- I’m throwing him down here because when he is shown with the twins, he isn’t that important, he’s just their to kinda flaunt, throw blame, and demand more respect because he’s kind of a joke within Umbrella, even though he’s a genius because he manages to clone a person and creates the twins. He’d also be there to show why the twins do what they do to him. Yes part of it is because they were upset about being clones, being created just to feed Alexander’s ego and prove to the world and family that he isn’t useless, but I also believe that Alexander wasn’t the best father. He puts a lot of pressure on the twins to be prefect, to be intellectuals and save the family name, to serve it, with little care to them outside of that goal so it makes sense that the twins would turn him into an experiment.

 Other characters: We can show and mention other Umbrella researchers or show characters like Chief Ions, a young H.U.N.K. who has yet to earn his name, that John guy Ada manipulated for the third party organization (which should be explored more because we know very little about them other than the fact they are a competitor to Umbrella and hire people to infiltrate and steal secrets) ect. They can be seen, mentioned, and have important roles, but outside of the characters mentioned above, they don’t really serve much purpose except to further show how terrible and evil the Umbrella corporation is. It’d be fun to explore their relationships and how Umbrella affected them, but they should never pull focus from our main cast.  

 Last little thought: There can be mini outbreaks, there can be experiments that go wrong or escape but there should never be a major outbreak. We can hint at what sets off the events in Resident Evil Zero/1 but we should never have something that shows Umbrella could fully contain the situation. Umbrella’s own hubris and the corruption within is what brings the company down so while having stuff like a zombie or a hunter on the lose could be fun drama, it should never be a threat to the whole operation. It would also be a fun way to show how much power Umbrella has over elected officials and the media. Spies, corporate espionage, and other horror/science show drama can ensue to keep the show momentum going.

[dommexbritt]

FONDUE FOR TWO // ELECTION WEEK       ⤷ VICE PRESIDENT CANDIDATES RECAP 

Aaaaaaaand we're back again with part deux of Fondue For Two Election Edition. This time we've got the line up of Vice President candidates, looking cute very serious and ON TIME. Totally appreciated. 

 The fondue is reheating so you're going to want to give it a minute and careful, there's some sneaky pepper jack in there, we're keeping things spicy today. Just like with the peeps who were running for Pres, lets do a quick intro from everyone and tell us why you've decided to run..

RIE: Well, yes! Hi! I'm Rie Anderson. I'm running because I believe I could do a great job in helping students communicate their needs to the people running the Academy. I'm a political scientist and one thing that I've learned is how important listening and being transparent is. And I believe we can make this place even better with the students' input. We are the ones taking the classes and putting the acquired knowledge to use. Then, as Vice President, I'm going to work together with our President, to make sure we, as students, are always heard.

BRITT: A cutie with some solid declarations, we totally love to see it! Next on the panel...

EMERSON: Hello all, my name is Emerson Patterson Fabray and I’ll be running for vice president. I believe those who are running for president are strong contenders but they’ll need another voice to help them reach where they want to go, someone to bounce ideas off of, and ultimately share leadership and school decisions with, and I personally believe I’m the woman for that job

BRITT: Excellent. Totally makes sense! And lastly,..

NORA: My name is Nora Cricket Toussaint and... I’m running on an education based platform but these women beside me are very well spoken so---

BRITT: SO SUPER HOT! You are absolutely right Cricket! You may all know her as Cricket or as the cutest of her partners long list of girlfriends, Nora Toussaint everyone! Totally VALID and third VP candidate in our line up!

-

Now... lets get to the real stuff. Rapid fire questions! Emerson, you’re up first!

Q&A W/ EMERSON FABRAY - 

B:  The hottest dish of the day and personally the most burningest question on my mind just happens to also potentially be some family drama... it looks as though you are running alongside Mateo Weston rather than your own namesake, do you expect there to be BAD BLOOD circa 2015 terrible carbon copy of an already terrible black and white movie adaptation of Sin City, no matter the election outcome?

E: No Quinn and I are adults and my views align more with Mateo’s. There should be a system in place that what happened with the interim deans never happens again, equality in both our education and simply in our campus life, regardless of legacy status or not, is the most important thing and  not to mention of course order is needed. A lack of proper structure can wreak havoc, but too much structure to the point corporal punishments willy nilly, in public no less, red robes to mark those who have decided to push back against a broken system? Is simply insanity, and also not conducive to any sort of learning environment. Back to the question at hand I wish my sister the very best, of course I do, and I always will but my I 100% stand by my choice to run with Mateo Weston.

B:  The rumor is that you’re starting a all blonde volleyball team, are potentially co-heading a belief group, and have recently entered into a claim... do you feel you’ll have time to devote to the Vice President position should you be elected?

E: I mean.. I’m simply in the Volleyball team I’m not starting it, and I’m not sure what belief system you’re referring too but... I can confirm I did enter a claim and that’s part of the reason I decided to do this. I have 5 sisters at this school, countless friends, and now a submissive who were all affected by what happened last month which means I’ll be more than dedicated enough to devote time to both her, and this position if I’m elected into it.

B: Same as I asked your running mate, as there seems to be a connection here in your joint purple candidacy, do you believe in the separation of church and state?

E: [short pause] ...Yes I do believe 100% in the separation of church and state.

- Q&A W/ RIE ANDERSON -

B: As the most technically qualified candidate for both the Presidency and VP, how do you plan to implement your MIT political science degree here at Deveruex?

R: When I was in college, I learned a lot about law making, laws in general and political communication. Those are all things that are going to help me here. Also, one thing that my professors were very strict about, was the fact that we should always look at situations with an unbiased opinion. Then we would know what to do, how to solve problems in a way that would be good for the Government but also for the People. So I plan to implement my degree by being a VP that listens, analyses and comes up with good solutions!

B: During a deep dive of your social media accounts I discovered that the adorableness of your face is so very distracting to any other thought processes, that I don’t think I read a single caption. Are you going to use that asset to your advantage while intellectually pulverizing the board standing your ground on student issues?

R: [laughs] Well... Why not? As a great VP I should always use all the assets available to my advantage! As long as I can help the students be heard!

B: Maybe not a hot dish but totally sizzling, if you had to choose only one other Anderson to spend the rest of your life stranded on a deserted island with... which would it be?

R: I know I said I'd pick Mark to go with me not a long time ago, but you just said for the rest of my life. So assuming I can't leave the island ever again, I'd totally take Blaine with me. He's my favorite Anderson, so he seems like the correct choice!

-

Q&A W/ NORA TOUSSAINT 

B: Hey, Bestie's babe. You are an absolute angel. I don't have any questions for you, I'm just going to give you the next three minutes of air time. Go for it.

N: [ speaks on popular issues and education issues and the incident with the deans last month and how it’s unacceptable ]

- FINAL QUESTION FOR EVERYONE - 

BRITT: We've heard your main concerns about the campus, is there anything you'd like to add? And also, what is the first action you are planning to take if elected?

  EMERSON:  My first act as vice president would be to make sure any legacy privileges become something attainable to all students. The divide is something that simply cannot last in a school that presents itself as forward thinking and liberal.

RIE: When I'm elected, I'd like to sit down with the President and talk about plans to make the school a better place for the students. I'd also like to set up an official anonymous communication channel for the students to be able to give their opinions without consequences. I'd also like to speak with the Deans to know what's their expectations of us, as students. From there, we'll start working!

NORA: [ clears throat ]  My first act as vice president would be... To make sure our education is as up to date as possible. That we’re getting the most updated practices are being taught to us, and not something that was given to us 10 years ago that doesn't apply now. -

Well you heard their intentions here folks! Thank you all for joining me, it’s really nice to hear everyone’s best foot forward on campus and student issues. I don’t know about all of you listeners, but I’m ready to get to voting!!

This has been your election dish here on Fondue For Two!! I’m your host Brittany S. Pierce, signing off until next time...