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thetoadghoul · 3 years ago

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Volunteering: (Ohtani x Reader) <333 (Part - 2)

part 1!

plot: Wednesday’s game arrives which Ohtani invited you to, some bonding time before the first pitch <3 slowwwburn, long cause idk details are fun lol

Wednesday quickly arrived, made much faster by the crazy amount of work you were required to do for your ‘actual’ job. The last three days had been spent with you running around the LA area, as well as cyberspace, to serve your role as interpreter. It was hell, for more reasons than one. The biggest of all being that even though you were not in Japan at the moment, you were still required to wear a proper suit. That meant a tight navy skirt, stockings, and some blasted heels. Sexist men, long meetings, and endless paperwork aside, you enjoyed your job for the most part - but this aspect really wore on you. However, the pain in your feet wouldn't damper your excitement for tonight’s game. Today you were not actually volunteering at the Angels stadium.

The day before yesterday, when you were actually volunteering, a bashful Ohtani had tapped you on the back while you were picking up baseballs from the batting cages. When you turned around the giant man was holding out a lanyard with an attached document, marked ‘VIP Guest of Player’. It took all you had not to let your hands shake with nerves as you reached out and grabbed it gingerly.

“Uh, see you on Wednesday.” The man looked to the side awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

“...Yeah.” You responded with a small smile, feeling stupid, but it was all you could think of.

“Well, uh, I better go...” He motioned behind his back with a lazy thumb, staring to jog backward.

You nodded quickly, rushing to go back to picking up balls before you said something super lame, or weird.

It wasn’t till you were on the way home did you take a look at the back of the stadium pass. It read ‘Guest of Shohei Ohtani’. So he had put in the request for you, that was just like him, so kind. It would be an understatement to say you weren’t excited for tomorrow.

-----

Currently, your heart was still racing, but for another reason other than a certain super cute and insanely talented baseball player. It was because it was almost three-thirty in the afternoon and you were running around your company-provided apartment, trying to get ready as fast as you could. Ippei let you know you should get there around four-thirty, by then the team would have been done warming up and starting to enjoy a pregame meal while the away team got the field to themselves. From that point onwards, pretty much everyone was free to relax in the clubhouse till just before the first pitch.

With little time to consider, not even enough time to take a shower after having just got off work, you went with an oversized red T-shirt, baggy jeans, and some cool Jordan’s. This was your go-to, and it was comfortable. You don’t have many clothes anyway, living out of a suitcase.

Right as you were about to run out of the door you remembered to grab your standard Angels cap, it had been provided to you as part of your volunteer uniform a while back, slipping it on over your tight work bun. You would let your hair down later.

All right, everything was in order, Uber scheduled, lanyard secured.

It took about half an hour to arrive at the stadium, and once it came into view, you instructed the driver to let you out in front of the ballpark entrance. It had been a long time since you got to go through the gates as a member of the audience, it actually gave you a wave of nostalgia seeing everyone in their gear, so hyped up for the game, tailing gating outside for what was probably hours.

Once you were through, you started walking through the concession stands and various other stalls, dodging around the fans that were already inside watching the warm-ups, as well as hanging out drinking and eating. There were pictures of Ohtani everywhere, people taking turns snapping pictures of each other in front of the various cutouts of him. The air was buzzing with energy, and it seemed like all for that guy. Honestly, you had worked for a couple different teams over the years, but you had never seen hype like this. It was surreal, seeing a legend in the making.

You smiled, gripping the lanyard around your neck, making your way through the stadium. Shohei was super nice to do this for you, really, you should show him your support. Maybe a quick peek in the team store would do? Plus, you deserved to spend some money on yourself. After all, this was the first time you had really been ‘out’ in the almost three months you had been in California. Your free time was either working, volunteering, video games, or sleep.

You took a couple moments in the Angel's merch shop, quietly perusing the aisles, keeping an eye out for any Ohtani-themed items. Unfortunately, there weren’t really that many, probably sold out by the fans. What was there, was way too small for you.

“Y/n, you here to watch the game?” A young voice sounded.

When you turned to see who addressed you, a familiar girl was standing there grinning.

“Hey Jordan! I didn’t know you were working tonight.” You grinned back.

Jordan worked at the store as a stock manager, she was close in age to you so the two of you often hung out. You had invited her over a couple times, both bonding over your love for crappy reality TV, beer, and of course, baseball.

“Yeah it was last minute, a girl was feeling sick and there wasn’t anyone else cept’ me.” She sighed.

“Bummer, text me if you need help?” You offered, to which she waved you off.

“Nah, you enjoy being here and NOT working.” She chuckled, walking over to organize a messy shelf.

“So, you looking for something in particular?” The girl glanced over her shoulder.

“Uh yeah, you recommend any cool Ohtani stuff? Or is there any at all... seems wiped clean in here.” You said while looking around.

“Ohtani? You here to cheer him on too then. Wanna catch his eye.” She teased.

“Don’t say it like I’m just here for my like, prince charming.” You snapped back playfully, but, maybe a little too fast.

“Aren’t you?” She pressed with an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” You pouted, fake walking away.

“I’m just kidding, actually, stay here for a second I might have something you’ll like.” Jordan yelled as she jogged off to the back room behind the counters.

You did as you were told and when she came back there was a large white Angels jersey in her hands.

“Ta-da!” She grinned, twisting it around to show the player’s name on the back.

“Oh, it’s in Kanji? That’s cool, I didn’t know these existed?” You questioned, running your finger over the ‘tani’ character of Ohtani.

“It’s the last one on the floor, had to grab it off the mannequin. Hope it’s not too big? It’s XL?” She questioned, passing it to you to hold.

“Nah it’s perfect, can’t you tell.” You joked holding the jersey next to you, while you showed off your oversized clothes.

“Figured it'd be fine, wanna get rung up? I’ll give you that ‘good good’ employee discount. But, don’t tell anyone.” She smiled, heading to the register, to which you nodded and jogged after her.

After you finished your purchase and waved bye to Jordan, it was time to head to the clubhouse. It was around five, so you were later than you planned but Shohei usually practiced batting in the cages a little while longer while everyone headed in. Slipping the plastic shopping bag into your purse, and ripping the tags off your new jersey, you slipped it on over your T-shirt, smoothing out the material as best you could. It felt great to finally have some real merch from the team, and part of you sort of wondered what Ohtani would think when he saw you. Hopefully, it wasn’t too much to just show up in his gear after he pretty much randomly invited you, let alone in the stadium-specific one, as you just learned from your colleague.

After you got to an employee-only doorway, you pushed on it hoping it was actually open. Ippei had also let you know via text that it would be unlocked for you. Another kindness of Shohei, not just inviting you, but making sure you had access to all the catering and AC inside the resisted area of the building. You slipped in and locked the door behind you, not wanting to encourage some intoxicated fans to follow. The hallway was empty and cool as you started making your way to the clubhouse.

You were admittedly a bit nervous by the time you got to the doors, feeling a bit awkward about strutting in as anyone other than a volunteer for the first time. Carefully you pushed open the door, making sure not to hit anybody. The room was full of chatter, some players eating, some playing cards, others watching TV on the room's monitors. You looked around for Ohtani, but he wasn’t there yet apparently. No matter, you strolled in and went for the snack area. Truthfully you hadn’t eaten since that morning, and that was just a toasted bagel. Turning your back to the rest of the room, you began filling up your plate with cocktail shrimp and grapes.

“Nice jersey.” Ippei said, coming up next to you, grabbing small sandwiches for his plate.

“Is that sarcastic?” You questioned with a smile, finishing your plate.

“Nah, I’m sure he likes it.” Ippei jerked his head to the left.

He? You leaned back to see around the man, meeting Shohei’s surprised face almost immediately. Had he been standing there the whole time? He had obviously been staring at your back, at his name, bashfully looking up to your face when you moved, blinking a couple times to clear his eyes.

“I uh, got it ten minutes ago.” You grinned awkwardly, pointing your thumb proudly at the jersey, hoping he wouldn’t think you were a weirdo.

The large player didn’t say anything, blinking more slowly this time before opting to just nod gently, with a quick “thanks for your support”, hurriedly leaning forward to start filling his plate with all kinds of foods.

—-

Once everyone had their food the three of you found a place to sit while you ate, it was at the back of the room away from the noise, and where the two usually sat before a game anyways. A small conversation started while the three of you ate calmly.

“Why... do you only have grapes, and shrimp?” Ohtani questioned suddenly, looking at your plate baffled. You looked down at it as well, pausing for a moment trying to find out what was so weird about that.

“Uh, well, it’s because... these things are... super expensive in Tokyo. It’s like a rich person food to me.” You smiled, eating a couple shrimps happily.

“Wow. That’s so sad.” Ippei chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

Shohei on the other hand burst out laughing at your response, making you laugh a bit too at your pitiful confession.

“Seriously, I feel like a mega-rich, and very posh, Ginza lady right now - eating nothing but shrimp and fruit. So fancy right? ” You exclaimed, popping a grape in your mouth.

The Japanese player laughed even harder, tears building up as he wiped his eyes.

“Those people wouldn’t touch that stuff with a three-meter stick.” Ippei stated, letting out a small laugh.

“Just let me have my moment.” You pouted through a smile, shoving more shrimp in your mouth.

The other man calmed down finally and was now sitting there smiling while he ate.

“So, fancy y/n, are you okay to sit in the dugout tonight. Not too unrefined for you?” Ippei questioned with a smirk.

“That’s, allowed?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, if you want to. Can’t stay there the whole time, but.” The man responded nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s the best place to hear, ‘the surprise’.” Shohei added, food in the process of being shoved in his mouth.

“Well, doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.” You smiled at the player, who nodded in acknowledgment.

“He’s batting first tonight, you won’t have to wait long.” Ippei spoke, starting on the next sandwich.

“Hope me being in there won’t be bad luck.” You joked.

“You believe in that?” Ippei smirked.

“My family ingrained it into me, wasn’t allowed to watch a single super bowl game in the living room till I literally moved out.” You frowned, stabbing a grape.

“Harsh.” The man smirked with a small laugh under his breath.

“You will be good luck, for sure.” Shohei leaned forward in a hunch to take another bite of food, smiling sincerely at you as he looked up from his food.

“Then, I will see to it that will become a very good omen. Please believe in me.” You responded in the highest form of keigo you knew, bowing rigidly from your seat for comedic effect. Since you never studied that level of grammar, it was really freaking bad, causing the two men to laugh again.

“You’re funny.” Ippei chuckled.

“Yeah, and your Japanese is so good though?” Shohei exclaimed, eyebrows raised, eyes wide.

“Nah it’s pretty bad, I fell off the study wagon a long time ago.” You laughed awkwardly, waving a hand in front of your face.

“You’d be there forever if you stayed on.” Ippei chuckled again, while Shohei nodded in sullen agreement.

“Writing would be nice though, having to look up every other kanji at the doctor's office, or like city hall makes me literally sweat, like, a lot. Buckets. But when I look around, I'm the only one.” You giggled.

“You’re so honest.” Shohei chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin, still leaning forward in his chair, you grinned back at him. Your eyes locked for a while, you had never noticed, but his eyelashes were sort of long.

At that moment Ippei had to take a call, letting the two of you know he’d be back in a bit, walking off. The two of you looked away and finished eating in silence.

When you looked up from your empty plate, the large player was now staring at you with a soft expression. The warmth in his eyes made you blush, he didn’t even break his gaze once he was caught like he usually did. You responded back to him simply with a shy smile, before being the one to avert your own eyes to the floor again.

Thankfully at that moment, a group of Angels came over, slapping the Japanese man on the back, starting up a conversion. They were going over strategies for the game and overall just getting hyped up. You didn’t have much to input, so you just kind of sat there enjoying the excited chatter. Shohei smiled merrily the whole time, inserting little jokes, completely affected by their excitement. The way he carried himself really reminded you that the essence of baseball was really just about having fun with your teammates and giving it your all. He looked simply happy to be there, and it made you smile too, just watching him goof off. It was charming to see his duality of being a just big kid with endless laugher, versus the super-serious, and seasoned player he was on the mound.

You were really trying hard not to but, you were rapidly developing feelings for Shohei. The last three months of volunteering here, you of course thought he was really cute and kind, classic boyfriend material. A simple crush, like many of the girls working around him, surely had as well. However the possibility of you two actually dating had always been a foreign concept, one which stopped you from even considering it, at all, you just didn’t know if you even could. With you both traveling for work, how would there be time? Plus, what about the media? His family? Yours? All those things seemed unscalable walls, that is, until this moment, when you could feel his gentle eyes on you once again.

Maybe, there was something? Or maybe, he was just a super nice guy, and you were treated no different than anyone else.

When you snapped out of your thoughts, Shohei was starting to stand up, grabbing everyone’s empties plates. He reached his hand towards you, asking for the one in your hand with a tiny nod of his head, to which you thanked him, stood up, and handed it over.

Well.

Either way, you were so screwed.

-------

Hope you enjoyed! <3

#大谷翔平 #ohtani shohei #shohei ohtani #ohtani shohei imagines #shohei ohtani imagines #ohtani imagines #ohtani x reader #ohtani #ohtani angels

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aellynera · 4 years ago

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An Off Day (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

AN OFF DAY

(okay, look. my husband thought he was being funny and said “give me a character and i’ll give you a scenario” and then i snorted laughing and then...well. this happened. set sometime before the events of the movie.)

((shoutout to @anetteaneta for an important bit of info and @tinygaydemonbby for the random chat and another key bit.))

Word Count: 2100(ish)

Summary: It’s your day off and you’re just trying to enjoy it. Nathan is working and he’s trying to enjoy it. It doesn’t at all go the way you imagined.

Warnings: Cursing. Banter. Robot sex (not graphic). Personal injury. Innuendo. Propositions. Nudity. Complete and utterly ridiculous trash. Possible typos. Nathan Bateman.

The absolute magnificence of the Alaskan landscape was something that, quite frankly, you were never going to get used to. The trees, tall and majestic, towering over the lush green grass. The river, crisp and pristine, bubbling its way to the immense waterfall that cascaded down the cliff face and eventually made its way into the ever-vast ocean. The bald eagles that would soar from treetop to treetop, even the occasional moose that would make itself known at the edges of the compound and then disappear like ghosts into the forest beyond.

It was otherworldly.

The occasional twig snapped and leaf crunched under your boots as you hiked along your usual trail along the north side of the property. Today’s air felt cool on your cheeks despite the sun overhead; at least it was summer - technically, even if the temperature wasn’t getting much above 60 degrees Fahrenheit these past few weeks - so you had twenty hours of daylight instead of the twenty hours of darkness in winter.

You found your favorite spot on a nearby rock and perched on the smooth surface, tilting your face up to that glorious, shining orb. This really was what you needed right now.

*ding!*

...And that was really what you didn’t need. Definitely not right now, and probably not later either. Speaking of otherworldly.

Your boss was a difficult man, and you had a strange rapport with him that was irritating on a daily professional basis, and to your dismay, increasingly so on a personal level. To be fair, you were the only two humans out here. To also be fair, your boss was kind of annoyingly hot.

You sighed and reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone and glancing at the screen.

God: Where the fuck are you?

God? What the… You were annoyed by the text, but more annoyed by the name. When the hell did that bastard changed his name in your phone? He was insufferable on the best of days, but this was a new low. A new high? You weren’t really sure. Sighing, you shot a text back.

You: It’s my day off.

God: You know that’s not really a thing here right?

You: It is when I need a break from you.

God: I’ll make it up to you.

You: Unless you’re asking me to dinner, I don’t want to hear it.

You groaned. You really didn’t mean to say that.

The little ellipses that showed he was typing back flashed across the screen several times, then stopped. Then popped back up, and stopped again. And just because your boss was your boss, it did it four more times, but still no response.

You shoved your phone back in your jacket pocket and returned your attention to the river, breathing deeply and watching the water swirl around a pile of rocks on the opposite bank.

*ding!*

Dammit.

God: I need you to come back like right now.

You: I’m not gonna sit around and be your Eliza Doolittle today, Nathan.

You weren’t just saying that. Last week, the man had dragged you, literally, into the lab by your elbow and had you repeat vowel sounds and random words extremely phonetically while holding a pulsing orb of glowing blue goo. He claimed it was some kind of brain training. You’d said it wasn’t part of your job description, but honestly, it probably was. You were there to assist, you were there to manage, you were there to occasionally have a satisfyingly intelligent and non-arrogant conversation, and you were mostly there to make sure Nathan Bateman didn’t blow anything up or burn anything down.

That didn’t necessarily mean you liked any of it. Okay, fine, you kind of liked the assisting part and definitely the intelligent conversation part. But it was your day off, and all you wanted to do was not be in the house.

God: What? No, it’s...I just need your help with something.

You: Nathan. It. Is. My. Day. Off. No assistance today. Bother me tomorrow.

God: ...Please?

That gave you pause. Since when did he actually ask for anything politely?

You: Fine. I’m halfway up summit trail, give me like 20.

God: Make it 10.

You: Asshole.

God: And bring a bag of frozen peas.

What the actual hell.

You blinked at the screen twice, turned your phone off completely, and started back towards the house.

*****

You didn’t know why you paid the slightest bit of attention to Nathan’s request, but once in the house, you found yourself in the kitchen, pulling a bag of frosty legumes out of the freezer. With it in hand, you made your way to the lab.

Nathan hadn’t told you where he was, but you knew where to find him. He was always in the lab.

“Okay, I’m back,” you called out as you pushed through the door to Nathan’s inner sanctum. “Now what is so damn important that…”

“Oh thank fuck,” Nathan’s voice called out. “Do you have the stuff?”

You glanced around suspiciously. You couldn’t see him. Until you came around the side of the long table in the middle of the room and found him. Your eyes widened at the sight of Nathan, curled up on the floor in a fetal position, sweating and vaguely shaking.

And totally naked.

He glanced up as he saw your shoes approached and weakly raised his arm and made a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

Tossing the frozen vegetables to him, your mouth opened and closed several times, trying to process the scene. Before you could really take it all in, you watched as Nathan reached over his shoulder, grabbed his discarded t-shirt, and wrapping the icy bag in the shirt, placed it directly on his crotch.

“All right,” you finally got out, “what the actual hell is going on?!”

“Ohhhhh,” Nathan moaned as the cold compress made contact with his skin. “I thought I was gonna die.”

“Why are you naked?” you yelled at him.

“There was a malfunction,” he replied, nonchalant as if you were simply discussing the weather.

You just gaped at him. This was definitely not in your job description.

“A malfunction,” you repeated.

Nathan made a feeble gesture at the table. It was covered in metal parts and wires, screwdrivers and other things you assumed were robotic but couldn’t recognize. He had been working a new body build for the past few days, that much you knew. But now there were metal bits everywhere and Nathan was bare as the day he was born, sprawled in the middle of the floor. Your eyes scanned the table again; the biggest object, in the middle of the mess, looked sort of like...oh, you did not like where this was going. You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I may have miscalculated the required tension,” Nathan said, still curled up on the floor.

The required...oh hell no.

“Nathan...you know you’re the literally the smartest person I know, and you know I think you’re brilliantly creative and inventive and all that important stuff, but please, please tell me you were not actually doing what I think you were doing,” you muttered.

“I was working!”

“You know I can just check the security footage, right?” you stared him down.

Nathan looked at you over the top of his glasses. “I had to test it and make sure it worked.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Why does a robot have to have working...parts?!” As soon as you asked, you wished you hadn’t. This idiot genius actually had the nerve to blush. Slightly. He would never admit it, but his ears definitely got pinker than they’d been a few seconds ago.

Nathan sat up suddenly and glared at you, adjusting the ice pack again - thank the heavens - to keep himself covered. “First of all, it’s not a robot, it’s an AI. There’s a big difference. And second of all, we talked about this. The point is to make it as human as possible, so this particular part was necessary.”

The glare you shot back at him could have melted his current loincloth. It was your day off and Nathan couldn’t even leave you be for one whole day without his compulsion to cater to whatever whim was in his head and get under your skin. You dropped into one of the lab chairs.

“So...let me get this straight,” you sighed. God help you. But not the God in your cell phone, because he could go fuck himself. Or get fucked. Whichever.

Suddenly, through your haze of utter exasperation, what you’d just thought clicked into place and you snorted a laugh. Your eyes flashed over to the thing in the middle of the table. It was definitely shaped like a pelvis.

Nathan’s eyes became daggers. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?”

Your eyes went to the thing on the table and to his hands, and then back again. You shook your head, cleared your throat, and tried not to laugh again. It didn’t work. “Sorry. Um. So...what you’re saying is...you got injured because you were...fucking a robot pelvis.”

“I should fire you,” Nathan grumbled.

“And you got injured - from fucking a disembodied robot pelvis -”

“I am so going to fire you.”

“...because it was too...tight?”

“I shouldn’t have asked for your help. I should have just let myself die here, naked and unsatisfied.” He flopped back down.

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. Your laughter rang through the lab, a mixture of actual amusement and horrified reality. You snorted again and that made you laugh harder. Nathan had always joked about making a sex robot. Well, you thought he had been joking, but now, clearly not - and he’d hurt himself in the actual process of trying to make sure it worked. You weren’t a monster, you hoped he wasn’t truly actually injured, but you also took a little satisfaction in knowing karma existed.

After a few minutes, you wiped your eyes and looked down at him. Nathan stared back, but you could see the start of a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I told you I miscalculated the tension. It was fine--”

“Until it wasn’t?” you wheezed.

“--until it cut off all the circulation to my dick.”

You bit your lip. “Nathan Bateman. You literally cockblocked yourself.”

He didn’t respond right away. But then he spoke, at the same moment you noticed the smirk on his face fully bloom and what you’d come to call his “up to some bullshit” look glimmer in his eyes.

“Are you gonna come help me or not?”

“Excuse me?” You were fairly certain your eyebrows could not go any farther up your forehead.

“Well, I’m not in excruciating, unimaginable pain now, and I’d like to make sure my dick isn’t going to fall off. And I didn’t finish. Need a little help here.”

“You want me to--” you stuttered.

“Un-cockblock me,” his wolfish smile broke out fully now.

You hurled a pen at his head. “You really are an asshole.”

“I admit,” he continued, easily dodging your projectile, “this wasn’t what I was expecting for the first time you saw me naked, but I’ll work with what I got.” He started to remove the ice pack.

Another pen went flying his way. “You know, I’m just going to pretend that you’re not about to flash me with your mechanically impaired penis, and that you didn’t just proposition me, and I’m leaving this room now,” you said, standing up and shaking your head.

“Baby, you’re just gonna leave me hanging here?” he grinned, stretching back out on the floor. He folded his hands behind his head. The t-shirt wrapped bag of frozen peas remained - now perched rather proudly, you noted - on his groin.

A vexed growl left your lips as you walked towards the lab door. “Leaving now!”

“Well could you at least toss me my pants?”

You glanced down. Nathan’s sweatpants were balled up behind the lab door. How they’d gotten all the way over here...nope. Nope. You decided that information was entirely unnecessary.

You threw his pants at him and they hit him in the face with a satisfying whump.

“You sure I can’t convince you to help me out here?” Nathan asked serenely from under the fabric.

He couldn’t see the small smile on your face as you walked out the door. Thank god. Or...God. Whatever. The man was a menace.

“Ask me to dinner,” you called over your shoulder.

“I’ll text you,” he called back.

God.

~end~

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#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #fanfic #oscar isaac characters #my writing

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coramvobis · 4 years ago

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Imagine an South Korea!AU where Seo Dan and Seri are both chaebols... (part 1 because this is getting out of hand)

Obvs, Seri and Jeong Hyeok are married already bc this STORY IS ABOUT DAN AND HER HAPPINESS SO TAKE A BACK SEAT BINJIN.

Jeong Hyeok, pianist, whatever. Sickeningly in love with Seri. Seri is basically the same as CLOY, just got the man AND IS BEST FRIENDS WITH DAN EVEN THO DAN WOULD NEVER SAY IT OUT LOUD

My boy Seung Joon, a poor boy who’s living in a shitty small ass closet of an apartment. He’s just gotten fired from his job bc he prob gives out free shit or something to old ladies and loses profit or whatever that he did as a job

Now Dan is obvs CEO of you guessed it, her moms cosmetic department store but imagine it’s like a chain now and it’s big and international. That’s prob how she met Seri, two strong women in the business. Instead of competing they got together and TAKE DOWN ANY MAN WHO THINKS THEY CAN WALK OVER THEM

So Dan, workaholic, doesn’t take care of herself very well bc she wanna make her moms company the best she can. Doesn’t date v often and so her mom is like dan u need to go out more!!! You can’t just hole up in your office everyday, you’re at the perfect age for marriage and kids!!

Dan, not having it, bc single is the new trend right? (IM CRYING) basically brushes her mom off n was like I don’t need that kind of burden right now and was like I don’t have time to cater to a mans ego where they want to be the alpha and like her to be a docile housewife. And listed all the things that she doesn’t wanna deal with when being with a guy.

Mom, I swear she’s my fave, like second to seo dan. Mom being the smart ass bitch that she is, went and posted an ad, like discreetly Ofc, looking for a stay at home husband. And proceed to like list all the requirements.

Guess what. seung joon saw the ad and was like this sounds fun and totally replied to the ad. Not knowing it’s for like a fucking millionaire or whatever.

Comes the day of interview, mom went thru all the candidates, some were plain ugly (dan has taste and she doesn’t want her grand babies to b ugly), some were creepy (like srsly), and some just outright lied on their app and did NOT in fact want to be a stay at home husband but wants to “fix” her daughter.

So this is where our boy seung Joon comes in right. With his charming suave self and a killer smile, charmed the pants off mom and landed himself a trial period of 6 months.

U might be wondering. After mom set it all up, she went to see Dan and told her the good news. Dan was HELLLLAAA PISSED Ofc and was like MOM WTF DID U DO. Moms like I found u a suitable candidate! And bc nobody can out argue her mom, dan is like ok fine, I’ll try it for 6 months but if it doesn’t work out u can’t interfere in my personal life ever again. Mom Ofc agreed bc mom knows everything.

So fastforward.

Seung Joon is literally the perfect stay at home husband(fiancé???). He realized this is literally his dream life. He gets to live with a gorgeous woman and take care of her and don’t have to work????

Every day seung joon would cook her breakfast (which dan is like ??? Bc her breakfast was a cup of coffee), prepare her lunch with like a cute lil note about how he hopes her day is going well, or not to forget to take a break, or something cheesy n cute ok. Like it just shows he cares. When dan comes home he’d have dinner ready and he would b like the devoted husband and ask about her day n everything (Ofc at the beginning she’s prob like only replying with one word or two, then slowly she starts to say a little more when she realized he actually wanna hear about her day.) when dan stays late at the office, he would bring dinner to her and stay just enough to watch her finish dinner. Then one day he just shows up to pick her up from work BY WAITING OUTSIDE HER BUILDING UNTIL SHE COMES OUT. And so after that dan just sends him a txt when she’s about to leave so he doesn’t have to sit and wait. And SEUNG JOON BECAME HER DRIVER TOO. They just spend a lot of time together ok. Whenever Dan isn’t working, he tries to be with her. Bc he’s in love.

Lbr seung joon fell in love with her like at first sight ok. He just wants to know everything about her and wants to care for her and just make sure she knows she’s not alone and she can rely on him too bc he’s there for her and her only. He wants to be the person that she depends on, the person she shares her thought and emotions with. He wants to make her happy.

So they ended up with a routine of sorts. They started texting each other throughout the day (ok seung joon txts her and she just subconsciously smiles at it bc it’s always something stupid or flirty or just something so very seung joon, but she secretly like it even tho she doesn’t know why)

Seung joon takes her on spontaneous little dates when she’s free. He makes sure she’s having fun, he tried to teach her how to make food once and it ended terribly but it was hilarious and they were LAUGHING AND JUST CUTE.

I can’t.

Six month mark coming up right. Seung joon knew already like two months in or something when dan started warming up to him that he wants this. He wants this for as long as he can. He wants to marry her bc she’s amazing and literally a goddess. She’s exactly his type (TEARS R STREAMIMG DOWN MY FACE) so he used the little savings he’s got and went and bought this cute ring right. Not the biggest diamond. It’s nothing flashy but pretty. It’s pretty and sophisticated and it reminds him of dan. So he’s got it all planned right.

On the last day of the 6 months period, Seung joon made like this romantic ass dinner for dan. Decorated the place and all. Made it look a+. They had a rly nice time n they were so comfortable (dan even laughed at one of his jokes and he felt like he was on top of the world). The night was winding down. Seung joon was getting nervous but Dan’s fave song came on and it was Time.

So he reached for Dan’s hand and started his whole speech (you know the one. The one on the bridge where we all just died a little bc damn that’s cute) and at the end, he kneel in front of her with the ring between his thumb and forefinger. AND ASKED IF SHE WILL HAVR HIM AS HER HUSBAND BC HE WANTS TO SPEND HIS LIFE MAKIMG HER AS HAPPY AS SHE MAKES HIM.

Dan, not knowing that Seung joon was actually going to do this, was SHOOK. She thought they both knew it wasn’t gonna be like a Marriage thing after the 6 months but here he is. On one knee. Looking at her with those soft eyes.

She wrapped her hand over the ring and Seung joons hand and frowned. Ofc. Seung joon knew what that meant but a little bit of him still HOPED LIKE I HOPED THEY WOULDNT KILL HIM and dan said no. She can’t marry him. She was sorry but he’s like don’t apologise right. Bc even tho he’s like dead ass heart broken, he doesn’t wanna hear her apologise to him about this. So he got up, put the ring back into his pocket, and started cleaning up the dinner table like nothing happened. He told Dan to go rest n shower like it was just another regular night with them.

Ofc. The next day, Seung joon is GONE GONE GONE. he left a little card that says thank you on it but nothing else. All of his things r gone.

Dan’s mom called n was like SO HOW DID IT GO. And dan just tells her that Seung joon is gone. He proposed and she said no. And he left.

AND SCENE. tbc

#crash landing on you #seo dan #gu seung joon #gu seung jun #I literally don’t have time to write a fic but #fuck #the feels caught me off guard again #I’ll never be over how dirty they did to my girl seo dan #she deserves the world #and in my world seri n dan r bffs and not fighting over a boy #chicks b4 dicks #shit I wrote

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i0990 · 4 years ago

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Piofiore no Banshou -ricordo- - Review

Since I finally got a Nintendo Switch I decided to try Piofiore no Banshou, what with 1926 recently released and all. I know the English ver (Fated Memories) came out earlier this year, but I played the Japanese one so I won’t be commenting on quality of translations and such.

What actually caught my eye for this game was the art, especially the number of different outfits and hairstyles Liliana had. I’m neutral about the mafia setting. Most of the reviews I read were positive, especially the ones for the eng ver, so I decided to give it a shot. Overall I had a decently fun time with it, but I wouldn’t say it’s one of my favourites.

Piofiore is real pretty to look at, but suffers from poor writing at parts. The personalities of the guys tend to flip-flop depending on the route. Liliana, while very cute, is not what you would consider a ‘strong heroine’. The plot wasn’t that interesting to me and the finale route was underwhelming. Still, the characters were for the most part entertaining enough that I didn’t consider this a waste of my time and it didn’t bore me.

If you love this game to bits you might want to stop reading here.

*spoilers after the cut*

Plot: The heroine, Liliana, is an orphan who grew up in the church. The city has 3 mafia gangs(Falzone, Visconti, Laoshu) each controlling a diff part of the city, as well as a neutral area. A mafia controlled Italian city in 1925 sounds liked a fun setting yeah? In each route she basically gets attacked and is rescued/taken in by one of the gangs and spends time helping them with their stuff. We learn that she’s the latest in a line of chosen maidens who supposedly act as the key to unlocking a holy relic, which is why various parties want to kill/protect/possess her for their own agenda.

The overall plot is to... actually idk because there is no overarching goal common to the routes except maybe to not die. Liliana herself doesn’t seem to have any of her own goals to achieve. Therein imo is where the story writing gets a bit bland. Dante’s route is where you learn more about Liliana being the chosen one since the Falzone family are the guardians of the relic, but in the end it was just sth like “If a Falzone and the holy maiden sleep together you can unlock relic” -.- Nth wrong with it being so cliche, but it also makes this rather irrelevant in the other routes. In the other routes Liliana being the chosen one just becomes an excuse for the game to pile all sorts of abuse on her.

Regarding Liliana... If you are the sort who really wants a strong heroine you’ll probably hate her. She puts up with a lot of nonsense and abuse, especially in Yang’s route. Admittedly at times it’s a matter of suck it up or die but she’s still rather lacking in personality. The producers designed her to cater to the self-insert player base so her backstory and character are left as vague as possible. Her being the holy maiden also comes with zero special powers so she literally is just a helpless damsel in distress. I personally wasn’t too bothered by it but just find it a waste given how they had such a potentially good setting to work with.

What mainly bothers me with the writing was how characters tend to change personality depending on the route, as well as them making pretty stupid decisions when they should know better. I think Orlok’s bad end is a well known example of this for Dante. Nicola’s goal in his route makes zero sense, and also poor Robert who suddenly goes yandere. Jozef is suddenly a good guy in a couple of the routes. Yang is pretty much the most consistent guy, except that he is consistently an arse. When the route with the guy who abuses the heroine the most is the most entertaining route, you know the writing is messed up.

The finale route was also pretty meaningless and felt a bit lazy since it branched off from Gilbert’s route when there was no real reason for it. I mean, if you want to have a secret love interest can you at least give the guy some decent development and his own route?

As for the plus points, I’d say the game is still pretty entertaining to play through. It’s mostly carried by the art and characters themselves rather than the plot. I also like the darker and more mature feel of the game since I’m not a huge fan of fluff games most of the time. There really is a lot more violence and sex in this game than you’d usually see, although sometimes it feels a bit forced just so they can have the shock factor. It’s not super long like HnK or super boring like the KBO fd so that’s good. It’s actually remarkable that despite the poor writing the game was still rather fun. Maybe that’s the true power of the holy maiden hmm.

Characters: Due to the writing being all over the place and the flip-flopping personalities I have no true favourite for this game. If I had to say I’d pick Dante, because he likes cats and for the most part he seems to care about Liliana even when it’s not his route. Gilbert is a close second because he just seems like a fun guy to hang out with and yay shopping. Orlok seems more like a younger brother. Yang, while very entertaining, has an absolutely rubbish personality. Nicola’s route ruined the character for me :/

I’d usually spend some time here talking about the heroine’s personality but she doesn’t really have one. Pretty standard nice, likes baking, will take a bullet for her guy kind of girl. But yeah, no goals of her own.

The sub characters in this game are so-so. My favourites are the Laoshu twins because of how they somehow make every scene they are in more interesting. Emilio is just there to conveniently make things better for the characters involved. But hey, everyone looks great!

System/Interface: It’s nice and suits the setting. Not much to complain about. I would have liked a ‘skip to next choice’ option for this game. The newspaper clipping style main menu is kinda cute. No trophies to collect since it’s on the Switch.

Art/Music: RiRi’s art saves the day. Even if the characters do stupid or mean stuff, at least they look good doing it. Tbh this is the first game RiRi has done so far where I really like the art. Also kudos for Liliana’s multiple hairstyle and clothing changes. I would have liked more CGs featuring the characters interacting with one another and not just Liliana. Overall the art was prob what I liked best about the game.

Music wasn’t too bad. I enjoyed it while playing but nothing that really impressed me enough to want to buy the soundtrack. I like the various faction themes and they do a decent job of conveying each gang’s mood. OP/ED didn’t stick in my head.

Overall. my main feelings about the game would be... mild disappointment? I was expecting a more action packed, dramatic game. I don’t regret it though because it was fun enough and there’s lots of eye candy. It’s mostly the wasted potential that annoys me. Sorry if this came across as more of a rant than a review. I know a lot of people love this game lol. If you’re interested in darker and edgier games this is still worth giving it a shot. I also have the FD so I’m hoping it will improve my opinion of the series. Will probably start on it after the new year ^^

#piofiore no banshou #piofiore #piofiore no banshou ricordo #otome game #Otomate #piofiore review

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 4

September 28th 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was letting it all out.

Siena had called, cooped up in her room in the house she rented with two other girls, taking a break from studying for torts law or shorts law or whatever type of law it was that she had to study. It was these moments – moments when Siena caught up with her younger sister – that reminded her that she was slaving through law school because Aberdeen would probably need a lawyer one day after doing something colossally stupid. She’d usually start the conversations with “You can’t tell mom and dad…” and Siena would promise not to. And, well, she’d keep that promise. Because sisters never told. They only ever told on Camden.

Aberdeen told Siena about the night with William in June – she told her about a week later, after Siena was finally settled back into her place in Ottawa. They’d talked about it for a while and had come to terms with the fact that Aberdeen would never see William again because of the whole Sweden thing and because of the fact that Toronto was a city full of a few million people. They’d accepted it and moved on.

But then, of course, William showed up in the elevator on her first day of work and the floodgates opened.

“Wait…hold on a second,” Siena held her hand up. “You’re telling me you hooked up with a Toronto Maple Leaf.”

“Yes.”

“A hockey player. That guy was a hockey player.”

“Yes,” Aberdeen stressed.

“And now…” Siena paused. “You work for the president of the team that he plays for.”

“Precisely.”

Siena let out a long, loud sign, facepalming before rubbing her temples. “I don’t know how you get yourself into these situations, Aberdeen,” she shook her head. “I honestly don’t.”

“I don’t, either.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Aberdeen looked at her sister weird. “There’s nothing I can do about it. It says right in the employee handbook that no employee and player are allowed to hook up. I can’t tell Brendan and William can’t tell the rest of the team. That’s that.”

“Are you scared he might?”

Aberdeen considered the question. “I really don’t know. On one side, I feel like if he really wanted to tell them he would have told them already, and Brendan Shanahan would have found out through the grapevine and I would have already lost my job. Like, I wouldn’t have even gone to Newfoundland. On the other hand, I feel like the comments he’s been saying to me just make it seem like this is a game to him and he’s waiting on the most opportune moment to tell.”

“Comments?” Siena asked.

Aberdeen sighed. “I went to dinner with a bunch of them in St. John’s because Jason invited me, and he asked me who my favourite Leaf was in this really flirty way,” she explained. “Then a few days later he found me alone and told me I should have said him. Or at least have said he was fucking awesome because that’s what I said that night after we hooked up.”

Siena facepalmed again. “Oh, Aberdeen…”

“I know, Siena.”

“Does Kasha know?” she asked.

“Of course Kasha knows.”

“Kasha won’t tell a soul. She’s good like that.”

“I know. My problem here is William.”

“Listen, Aberdeen…this is a fucked up situation but it’s…I mean, technically you didn’t hook up with him when you were employee. It was months before. You had no idea who he was. That’s what my lawyer brain is telling me right now.”

“I don’t know if that matters,” Aberdeen said. “I keep getting told that this is the dream job, that if I do well with Mr. Shanahan I can have my pick of any job in any field that I want in Toronto, including writing. That’s how well connected he is. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side at all. I have to be on my best behaviour and I have to keep doing well.”

“Then keep being on your best behaviour. Keep doing your job,” Siena encouraged. “And keep William away.”

***

September 30th, 2019

With only two days until the start of the season, Brendan had a lot of meetings with a lot of people. There were meetings with hockey ops, meetings with the head scouts, meetings with player development, meetings with analytics. It was a much busier time than just three weeks ago. A lot more coffee runs. More ordering of catered lunches. More running around like a chicken with her head cut off, like Brendan said she would. And this wasn’t even the start of the season.

Brendan wanted her to sit it in on the meeting he had now with basically the entire senior management so they could go over upcoming events and initiatives they’d put on throughout the season. Kyle Dubas would be there. Brandon Pridham and Laurence Gilman, the assistant general managers would be there. Dave Morrison, the director of player personnel would be there. Brad Lynn, the director of team operations would be there. Stephen Hare, the director of finance would be there. Steve Keogh, the director of media relations would be there. Alison Rockwell, the director of business relations would be there. Leanne Hederson, the manager of hockey operations would be there.

Aberdeen was clearly studying the employee directory.

They had a list of things to talk about, and talked through them all. Aberdeen had her notebook and tried to take notes, but she felt like she was writing a foreign language and none of this would make sense when she went to read them again. There was talk about “You Can Play Night”, about galas, about charity golf tournaments, about community outreach programs, about the alumni events, about the MLSE Launchpad initiatives…

Then they started to talk about alternate jerseys. She thought there was only home and away jerseys, but no, there was apparently a third for a special night. A “St. Pats” jersey. It was green. A definite change from the blue, but they kept going on and on about it. Do we do this? What about this? How about this? It was incredibly pedantic. She felt like she was in science class again, doodling instead of taking notes since she had no clue what was being said or what was going on.

“Do you think we should go with the same one from last season, or should we choose a new design?” Dave Morrison asked.

“It’s hard to say. If we go with last year’s design, jersey sales may stagnate or decline if we compare it on a year-by-year basis, but a new design will boost that,” Stephen Hare said.

“Well, listen. It’s the 2019-2020 season. We can go with the design from 1919-1920,” Brandon Pridhan said, pulling up the mock-ups of the jersey. Aberdeen took into account the green and white, the lettering, everything. “Or should we balk the season number and go with this one, the 1926-1927 season design?” he held up the other mock-up. It was basically the exact same design, except the colours were inverted.

They were having an extremely serious and long discussion about this? Aberdeen snorted from the corner.

Suddenly, when she looked up, every eye in the room was on her. The smile immediately dropped from her face. Brendan was looking at her. “Something funny?”

Oh shit. Oh shit. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. “No, no…” she began, trying to cover for herself. “It’s nothing – you know – it’s just that they look exactly the same to me. I…you know, I’m still learning about all this stuff.”

“This…stuff?” Brendan asked, repeating her words. The look that he gave her – she never wanted to be looked at like that again for the rest of her life. “Oh…okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you. You get hired by the Maple Leafs and you sit in on this meeting with, oh I don’t know, that iPad Pro which the company paid for, and you scoff because you think we’re taking this too seriously, and you don’t care about what jerseys fans put on their back. But what you don’t know is that this hockey sweater is not just blue and white, it’s not just green and white, it’s actually a symbol,” he paused, moving from his spot at the table, walking around it. “You’re also blindly unaware of the fact that in 1919 the Toronto Arenas were about to go under, only to be saved by a group of investors who renamed the team the Toronto St. Patricks, and who later made Conn Smythe their managing partner and their eventual owner. Conn Smythe ended up changing their name in 1927 to the Toronto Maple Leafs because that maple leaf was the national symbol of Canada and, as he said, a badge of courage and a reminder of home of when he was a Canadian Army officer during World War One,” he picked the design he liked most from Brandon and pinned it onto the board, taking another from the pile. Aberdeen’s heart stopped beating. “The blue and white, he said, represented the Canadian skies and Canadian snow. The name has changed, the investors have changed, and the logo has seen design changes, but that maple leaf is a symbol that represents the identity of Toronto, the history of this city, and the pride of the country. It represents millions of dollars and countless jobs, and so it’s sort of comical how you think that you ever made a choice that exempted you from caring about these jerseys when, in fact, this city’s identity and one of the most well-known national symbols were selected for you by the people in this room who ran this hockey club. All because of the influence of this stuff.”

He held onto a picture, holding it face up. She broke eye contact to look down at it, only to see it was the maple leaf that was currently on the jersey. The thirty-one points, meant to represent 1931 and the opening of Maple Leaf Gardens; the 17-vein detail, meant to represent when the franchise was founded in 1917; the 13 veins at the top, meant to represent the 13 Stanley Cup championships. She realized what this symbol meant to not only the people in this room, but to the city, to the fabric and identity of it, to its storied past and bright future. She realized the history behind it, the countless people who wore the sweater or jersey with pride for over a century now. She realized how wrong and careless she’d been.

When she looked back up, Brendan was staring at her. So was everyone else still seated at the board table, some of them with amused looks on their faces. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” she said, barely above a whisper because she was too embarrassed to even speak. She clutched her iPad Pro and took the picture, walking out of the room.

The second the door closed behind her, she burst out into tears. The tears streamed down her face as she escaped into the washroom, slamming the stall door behind her and locking it before breaking down in the bathroom stall. Brendan Shanahan had just embarrassed her in front of some of the hockey world’s most important people and she deserved it. She couldn’t believe she could be so fucking stupid and so dumb and callous and just such a…such an idiot. And now here she was, crying about it in a bathroom stall. She’d never be able to recover from this. Brendan would think she was an idiot until the day she died. He’d die before her and in heaven he’d still think her an idiot.

She stayed in the bathroom stall for a while, crying it all out and eventually stopping because she had no more energy to cry. She opened the stall door and looked at herself in the mirror, trying to wipe away the tears. Her eyes were red and of course, her cheeks were stained with tears, but she was thankful that she wore waterproof mascara that day. She tried to collect herself, even though she had just made a complete ass of herself. She still had a full day of work to do. She still had to make it until 5pm. Somehow.

When there was nothing more she could do to fix her appearance, she sighed and decided to head back to her desk, ready to face whatever punishment Brendan was going to give her when he got out of the meeting. There was nothing more she could say or do. She swung open the door to the washroom and stepped out into the hallway.

Although when she did, she crashed into a body. When she looked up, it was, of course, none other than William Nylander. Because her day couldn’t get any better from here. “Hey,” he said, smiling at her.

“What do you need?” she asked, not bothering to greet him.

He noticed the tone of her voice and the redness of her eyes and immediately changed his demeanour. “What’s wrong?”

She side-eyed him. As if he cared. “I just made a complete ass of myself in front of Brendan. No biggie,” she huffed.

“Did you get a coffee order wrong or something?”

Now she really side eyed him. She understood the stereotype of personal assistants, but this was not the time to start making jokes and devaluing her job. “What do you want? Why are you even in the offices?” she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to see you.”

She scoffed. “Oh, get a life, William.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know why you feel the need to keep taunting me when we’re on the job, but it needs to stop,” she said. “Don’t you have drills to go through? Don’t you like, I don’t know, need to tape a stick?”

It was his turn to give her a look. “Hey, don’t be mad at me just because you screwed up at your job today. I came up here to see you because I wanted to see you. I’m trying to be nice.”

“Taunting me at my job isn’t being nice,” she said. “If you can’t tell, I’m not having a good day. So I’d appreciate it if you just…wouldn’t.”

“Whatever you did can’t be worse than sleeping with a Maple Leaf and then working for his boss,” William retorted.

Okay, now she was angry. She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the small kitchen – the one she’d retreated to when she walked in on them in their underwear – and shut the door behind them so they could have a private conversation. “Listen to me,” she began, her voice as steady and as intimidating as it could be. “I know I’m not saving the world or anything, but this job means a lot to me. This isn’t a fucking game to me like it is to you. This is my life. This is my livelihood. This is my career prospects in any industry in Toronto if I do a good job here. And you, William Nylander, are not going to take that away from me.”

“I’m not trying to take that away from you,” William declared. “Don’t you think that if I didn’t want you here, I would have told the guys or told Brendan already?”

Aberdeen thought back to the conversation she’d had with her sister, where she brought up the exact same point. She shook her head. “Then stop with the comments. Stop with the ‘coming to see me’, flirting in front of your teammates, and the flirting in general.”

“I can’t do that,” he responded.

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because I want you.”

The words hung in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time as William and Aberdeen stared at each other, his blue eyes piercing her hazel ones. Her jaw dropped at his words, and she tried to respond but she couldn’t think of anything to say. There was nothing to say. He just dropped a bombshell and she had no way to recover. He wanted her. He wanted her. He…wanted her? “W…What?”

William didn’t respond. He only smiled. He didn’t say anything else as he left those words with her, opening the door and leaving the kitchen, leaving her completely dumbfounded.

***

Later on that night, as Aberdeen was walking back to her condo after the day’s work (and not seeing Brendan again – probably for the best, since she was going to write out and rehearse her apology she’d tell him tomorrow if she didn’t get a call that she’d been fired tonight), her phone buzzed in her pocket. She assumed that it would be Kasha, wanting to know what they were going to do for dinner. But when she looked at her screen, it was an unknown number that texted her.

i promise im not going to tell anybody. im not going to tell any of the guys, or kyle, or brendan, or anyone what happened in june. that stays between us.

im not that guy. i wouldn’t do that to you.

She stopped dead in her tracks. A pedestrian behind her almost crashed into her and yelled at her to watch where she was going. She collected herself and moved off to the side so people could pass by her and she could read the texts over and over and over again. She didn’t even want to know how he got her number. She didn’t want to know what covert operation he pulled.

She gulped.

***

October 1st, 2019

Aberdeen was impatient in the backseat of the town car as she and Lou waited for Brendan to appear. Her leg was bobbing up and down and she was pretty sure she would have chipped all her nail polish off by now if it wasn’t shellac. She had written out and rehearsed her apology to him and knew exactly how she was going to deliver it. She knew she had to makes things right.

“Miss Bloom,” Lou said from the driver’s seat, looking at her through the rear-view mirror like he often did. “Nervous energy.”

“I’m sorry Lou,” she apologized, trying not to bob her leg. “I just need to say something to Mr. Shanahan.”

“Something bad?”

“How many apologies have you heard in this car?” she asked.

Lou chuckled. “Many, Miss Bloom.”

“How does he react to them?”

Lou shrugged. “Depends.”

She gulped. As if on cue, Brendan emerged from his house. Lou got out of the car to open the door for him.

“Good morning, Aberdeen,” he said, his voice cheery as he got into the backseat. He already had a stack of newspapers with him. He was acting as if nothing was wrong. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m…good,” she replied, confused. She decided she should just get right into it. “Mr. Shanahan, can I speak to you about something?”

“Brendan,” he corrected her like he always did. He was focused on the newspaper in front of him. “And yes, Aberdeen, you may.”

“Can you look at me?”

That caught his attention. He lowered the newspaper and took off his glasses, waiting for her to begin. She took a deep breath. “I want to sincerely apologize for my comments yesterday in the meeting,” she began. “It was really insensitive of me to scoff, and then to make that comment – just really callous, and I want to apologize. I don’t want you thinking that this job means nothing to me, because it does. It means the world—”

“Aberdeen,” Brendan interrupted her, holding up his hand. She stopped talking, and could tell he was thinking of what to say. “First of all, thank you for your apology,” he began. “What I said to you in that room, in front of everybody – I just wanted to make sure you know the importance of the work we do here.”

“I do. I mean – I do now.”

“Hockey in Toronto is not just hockey,” he began. “It’s a living, breathing entity in and of itself. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you will see the importance of not just my work, or the work of anybody else that was in the room that day, but of your work too. You are part of the Toronto Maple Leafs now, Aberdeen, whether you like it or not. You have a role to play here in the success of the team just like anybody else. Just because you’re an executive assistant, it doesn’t mean you don’t.”

“Yes sir,” she nodded her head.

“I know you have a steep learning curve to go through. I knew that when I hired you. You’ll go through it. And you’ll make a hell of a lot of mistakes along the way. But you’ll go through it. And you’ll come out better. With more knowledge. Understood?”

“Yes sir. Absolutely,” she nodded her head. Brendan sent her a quick smile before putting his glasses back on and focusing on the newspaper again. “So…I guess this means I’m not fired?” she asked, just for reassurance.

That actually got a laugh out of Brendan. “No, Aberdeen. I could never fire an Etobicoke girl.”

***

October 2nd 2019

The season opener was just pure insanity. There was no other way Aberdeen could rephrase it besides that – just pure insanity. Brendan had meetings, she had to coordinate this, she had to run for coffees, she had to go get notes from someone, the phone was ringing off the hook…Lou even had to take her in the town car up to Yorkville, to Prada and to Gucci and to Hermes, so she could pick up ties for him to wear once all the media came rushing in. It was a complete shit show. She barely had time to eat, drink, or even think because she was so busy trying to get everything done.

But something happened to her once she and Brendan made their way up to the media gondola to sit in the President’s private box with Kyle Dubas and Brandon Pridham: she watched the game. From start to finish, she watched the Toronto Maple Leafs dominate the Ottawa Senators 5-3 to win the game. She saw Auston Matthews score two goals – and William assist beautifully on one of them. It was textbook perfect. She saw the comradery of the boys on the bench. She saw Brendan and Kyle seem excited.

She remembered back to how excited the people of Newfoundland were at just a practice and an exhibition game. She saw how excited the crowd was tonight at the way the team played and the outcome of the game.

She began to get it.

She followed Brendan out of the gondola so they could head down to the locker room about five minutes before the game was going to end. When the team began to come in, she wondered if she should clap – her questions were answered when she saw the equipment personnel fist-bump the boys. She held out her hand to show her support. Brendan laughed.

“Wooooo! Let’s go baby!” Auston screamed as he looked directly at her, fist-bumping her with his enormously large hockey glove. In that moment, she was sure one of them was going to knock her over one day.

“Good job boys!” she yelled out as they trickled in. John was next, giving her a fist-bump and a quick nod.

Morgan saw her and screamed at her. “Wooooo!”

“Wooooo!” she mimicked, smiling from ear to ear as she fist-bumped him. She held her hand out for Andreas, for Kasperi, and for Sandin. William filtered through, and when she caught his eye, a large smile appeared on his face. “Good job boys!” she yelled out again as they fist-pumped.

As they boys filtered into the locker room and began to take off their gear, Brendan walked in, motioning for Aberdeen to follow him. She stood behind him and Kyle Dubas as they watched Mike Babcock make his post-game speech and present the team with one of the Raptors’ game used balls from their championship run. One player would get it after every game won. Auston got it tonight for scoring two goals, and he did a few tricks.

Aberdeen helped usher Mike into a separate room so he could do post-game media before they went into the locker room. She watched as a horde of reporters stuck microphones into his face and asked him questions about the game. When Brendan called her back into the locker room, he told her he was free to go.

She looked up at one of the TV monitors that was broadcasting Mike’s interview from the other room live, wanting to hear what good things he had to say before she left. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw William approach her, the bottom half of his gear still on, chucking something into the garbage. He stood beside her, looking up at the monitor too to listen in.

“Can you speak to Matthews’s goals tonight? The assist from Nylander must have looked good on your end,” one of the reporters asked.

“Yeah, the goals were good. Looked really good. The assist looked better than the one’s from last season, that’s for sure – he’s clearly been practicing,” Mike began.

Aberdeen didn’t hear anything else he had to say as she furrowed her brows. She knew that she didn’t know anything about hockey, but she thought the team played fantastic tonight. They won, for heaven’s sake. If she was a casual viewer and thought they played well, and that William’s assist on Auston’s goal looked incredible, that had to speak for something, right? A person who wasn’t even a fan being impressed? She didn’t know. But when she looked over at William, she saw a defeated look on his face. He clearly took the comments to heart, and it killed her to see his excitement die down over a stupid comment.

“Does he always give you backhanded compliments?” she asked quietly, looking at him.

William noticed her looking, and gave her one of those tight-lipped smiles as he shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”

Aberdeen didn’t like that answer.

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #william nylander fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #the president wears prada series

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owl-with-a-pen · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I just read the fanfic about Brainy and Nia going to the future and meeting their daughter, I know you posted it a long time ago, I'm just new to tumblr, so if you can I want you to do a fic about the future, where Brainy's daughter and Nia is 5 years old. And it would be cool to see the antics that her daughter does.XD

- Sorry this took so long to fulfil, but yes! I’m sure she’d get into all sorts and this story probably only scrapes the surface! Thank you for the prompt x

Nia had always preferred the night over the day; maybe it was just her Naltorian side talking, but she’d always felt there was a certain peacefulness about the night-time that just couldn’t be replicated in daylight.

That definitely hadn’t changed since Nova had come into the picture.

The daytime had always been busy for a number of reasons. Balancing work and family life, balancing family and hero life - balancing work, family and hero life. But, now that Nova had reached an age where she was starting to explore her natural curiosities, Nia and Brainy hadn’t had the luxury of focusing on anything else. At five years old, they couldn’t let their daughter out of their sight for one second of the day.

The second the sun went down, though?

Nova’s sleeping pattern had always been pretty steady, and once she was out - she was out. She’d definitely gotten that from Nia’s side of the family. After all, Brainy didn’t really need all that much sleep, although he had admitted to her on more than one occasion that he enjoyed resting at her side, retreating to his inner network at hours Nia would otherwise be sleeping, working on small tasks and calculations reminiscent of an actual dream-state. In that way, he could still be close with her during the night, and Nia valued that time together immensely.

Of course, the fact Brainy didn’t actually need those extra hours had made him the best dad ever when it came to late-night wake-up calls courtesy of one baby Nova.

She still wasn’t old enough for them to know for certain the extent of her abilities; Brainy had predicted they wouldn’t fully develop fully until her teen years. Honestly, though? Nia didn’t care what powers Nova had; she was perfect no matter what.

Nia watched from the doorway that evening as Nova cuddled against Brainy on the bed. Her blonde hair was getting so long now, falling in relaxed waves down to her elbows, and the light green tone of her skin was almost washed out entirely by the soft purple of her nightlight on the bedside table. She was curled into Brainy’s chest, chewing idly on her thumbnail, her dark eyes scanning along inquisitively to the passages he was reading aloud to her. Nia smiled privately to herself; Brainy really got into character when reading Nova to sleep, making a big show with grand gesticulations and silly voices, even when the book of choice for tonight was an account on quantum mechanics from Carlo Rovelli’s collection.

Nova had a unique taste in literature, that was for sure and, while she was definitely getting a taste for mathematics and physics, she also still enjoyed simpler story telling. Nia and Brainy had decided to switch up who read to her each night. Sometimes, they’d choose something on Brainy’s bookshelf, and other times they would go for stories catered for a younger – human - mind, like The Far Away Tree, or even folk stories like Little Red Riding Hood or Goldilocks.

Nova really liked Goldilocks; Nia must have read it to her at least twelve times this month alone.

As Nova let out a big yawn, relaxing further into her dad’s side, Nia caught Brainy’s eye, jerking her chin towards the door.

He nodded his understanding, continuing his narration as Nia ducked out of the room, heading towards the living room where Alex was waiting for her, already working open a bottle of red.

“How is she?” Alex asked, sizing up her wine glass as she began to fill it up generously.

“She should be asleep soon,” Nia said. “But, uh, Brainy sometimes runs Q and A sessions with her if she stays awake through a whole chapter.”

Alex snorted. “Only for Nova would I find that concept adorable.”

Nia collapsed onto the sofa, snatching her wine glass immediately. She reached out expectantly to Alex, grinning when she rolled her eyes, ditching her own wine glass to fill up Nia’s.

“Why, thank you,” Nia said, tucking her legs up beneath her.

Alex tipped her own glass with a wry smile. “It’s my pleasure, really.”

Nia took a long sip, savouring the rich taste. They couldn’t exactly go off the walls with a toddler sleeping next door, but right now, anything that could offer her a brief period of relaxation, Nia was more than eager to accept. She swirled her glass thoughtfully. “You know,” she murmured, “Brainy’ll probably need something a little stronger to take the edge off.”

“Oh, way ahead of you,” Alex said, shifting to the edge of her respective sofa to grab a bottle she had stowed away inside her backpack. She placed it on the coffee table with a flourish, giving Nia the opportunity to try and decipher the alien script scrawled across the label. “Kara recommended this,” Alex said, raising a finger. “Please do not ask me what it’s called, because I will not be able to pronounce it.”

Nia snorted, taking another sip of her own regular alcohol. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“He better, this stuff wasn’t cheap.” Alex smirked, leaning back into the sofa. “How have you guys been, anyway? I feel like this is the first time we’ve seen each other in months.”

Nia opened her mouth, only to frown. Had it really been that long? All the days had been blurring together recently, and yet each one seemed to be separated by something inexplicably unique in its own right – courtesy of one overly curious toddler.

Nia wasn’t even sure she could remember the last time she’d visited the Tower, and going out for patrol or even something as simple as date night was so far off the table right now, it might as well have been in another galaxy. There wasn’t a sitter in the city willing to take on a genius, alien five-year-old with a penchant for mischief.

To Alex, Nia only shrugged. “Nova’s just been needing a lot of our attention lately. Well, all of it, actually. Or else she’ll burn the apartment down.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Wait, like seriously burn the apartment down?” When Nia pursed her lips, Alex’s mouth fell open. “Is that normal?”

Nia rolled her eyes, leaning back into the cushions. “According to Brainy, yeah. Coluans express themselves through their intellect, and Nova’s been flexing that muscle a lot lately. Brainy thinks it’s a good sign, that she’ll probably rise to the twelfth-level, but we don’t exactly have much for a frame of reference, y’know?”

“Well, you have Brainy,” Alex considered. “How was he raised?”

Nia shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze. She took a long sip of her wine to fill the silence. “Uh,” she said softly. “That’s sort of a… sore topic, actually.” She bit her lip, running her thumb along her glass’s neck. “He had robot caregivers for the most part.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

By the subdued look on Alex’s face, Nia knew she didn’t want to butt in with any more questions on the subject of Brainy’s upbringing. Brainy had certainly shared a portion of his childhood with his friends, at least enough for them to know that his parents were not a topic up for discussion if he could help it.

Even with Brainy occupied with Nova in the other room, Alex didn’t appear comfortable to continue the direction of their conversation.

Nia chuckled softly, trying to clear the air. “Anyway,” she said quickly, steering them back on topic, “there isn’t an earth-equivalent to a robot nanny here; well… except for…” She stopped herself suddenly, resisting the urge to grin.

Alex narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Except for what?”

Nia shook her head, pressing a finger to her lips to keep from laughing outright. The wine was definitely starting to do its job - not thirty minutes ago, thinking about this would have only stressed her out. She reached for the wine bottle, eager to keep this high going for as long as humanly possible, topping up her glass. As soon as it was full, Nia took another long swig, breathing deeply as the wine warmed her chest. “Kelex,” she said on her next exhale, unable to keep the smile from her voice.

Alex laughed incredulously. “Wait, what? Kel- Kelex? From the Fortress?” She shuffled to the edge of her seat, almost conspiratorially. “Doesn’t Brainy hate that thing?”

Nia shrugged half-heartedly.

Alex’s eyes widened. “Why does he hate that thing?”

That question seemed to ground her, at least. Nia winced. She was pretty sure they were skirting back along unsavoury territory. “He was never totally clear with me,” she admitted, staring down into her glass, “but I’m pretty sure Kelex reminds him of his own caregivers. They – uh – didn’t exactly get along.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, it doesn’t even matter. Brainy was happy to entertain the idea, but the second Kara brought Kelex over, Nova was obsessed with the thing. She rewired it in like… twenty minutes.”

Alex stared. “She’s five, right?”

“She’s also half Coluan,” Nia reminded her, toasting her glass in Alex’s direction. “Dismantling machinery is better than any toy I could buy her.” She closed her eyes at that, pulling a face. “I left her in the bathroom for ten minutes today to shower and by the time I got out, she’d turned my hairdryer into a blowtorch.”

Alex winced into her wine glass. “Oof.”

“She’s just curious,” Nia said quickly, rubbing idly at her forehead. Was she really getting a wine headache already? God, she was really out of practice. “She’s exploring her intellect,” Nia said eventually. “It’s healthy for her and I wanna encourage that, I do—” She sighed heavily. “It’s just…”

“Exhausting?”

Nia smiled bleakly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Then, take a break,” Alex insisted.

Nia stared at her levelly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Hey,” Alex said with a smirk, pushing the wine bottle over to Nia’s side of the table. “Start with this. Finish the whole thing. Trust me, I have more.”

When Nia laughed, Alex glanced up at her, eyes flashing with a smile. “And, if you guys need a real break, you know that Kelly and I would be happy to help out.”

“You sure about that?” Nia asked warily. “Remember what I just said about the blowtorch?”

“You think a bit of fire’s going to scare me off?” Alex challenged. She leant back, gesturing to herself with relaxed emphasis. “Don’t forget, I shared a bathroom with an incredibly overpowered alien for years. Hell, I used to work for a super-secret government organisation that kept alien prisoners.” She placed her glass back onto the coffee table, folding her arms with a confident nod. “I’m pretty sure Kelly and I can handle a five-year-old super genius.” She winked. “And, if we can’t, we can always rely on Auntie Kara.”

Nia nearly snorted into her glass. She remembered a few choice stories from Auntie Kara revolving her valiant attempt at babysitting for Cat Grant’s son when she’d still been a PA. Something about him ending up on a train that had had a bomb strapped to it? Considering Nova already knew her Auntie Kara was Supergirl, the novelty of being saved from a near death experience would probably still hinge on traumatic, rather than invigorating.

Although, Nia had to admit, the idea of a break – however small – sounded pretty great right about now. She loved Nova with all of her heart, but having even just a few hours with Brainy to herself where she was actually conscious enough to enjoy them would have been amazing.

Still, she couldn’t help but picture Alex and Kelly struggling to figure out how to appease Nova’s more unique interests.

She smirked to herself, pressing her lips against the rim of her glass. “It’s your funeral,” she murmured.

Alex’s cheeks were already a little rosy from the wine and Nia knew she probably wasn’t faring much better. Still, before Alex could promise away any more of her free time, Nova’s door opened and, a moment later, out crept one very dishevelled looking Coluan.

Nia beamed from ear-to-ear. She stood, pausing when the world pitched a little around her. Wine drunk. There was no denying it, she was definitely wine drunk.

After carefully placing her glass on the coffee table, Nia made her way over to the bedroom door. She ran her hand down Brainy’s arm, squeezing gently. “Is she asleep?” she whispered.

Brainy’s expression was warm. He smiled softly, bowing his head. “I believe her excitement today tired her out more than she anticipated.”

Nia chuckled. That was the least surprising statement she’d heard all day. She turned towards the door, peeking inside. Nova’s nightlight was still on, enough to illuminate the profile of her round face snuggled against her pillow where she’d half cocooned herself in blankets only seconds after Brainy had no doubt tucked her in.

Her little mouth hung open slightly, silent breaths escaping her lips. Nia could spy the ears of her own childhood teddy bear poking out from beneath the blankets, hugged tightly to Nova’s chest.

Nia squeezed Brainy’s arm once more before sneaking into the room, summoning a swell of dream energy in her fist to keep from tripping over any mislaid toys or, more likely now she thought about it, machine parts.

Nia smiled; Brainy had promised to fix Kelex for Kara tomorrow. Despite his grievances towards the robot, he still felt guilty over the extent to which Nova had indulged her curiosities. They’d already sat her down to explain to her why what she had done wasn’t appropriate behaviour, and Nova had seemed to understand. Enough that she’d pouted when they’d told her she wouldn’t be able to go with Brainy to the Fortress to help fix Kelex in the morning. The last thing Nia wanted was for Nova to get her hands on the kinds of weapons Kara and Clark had hidden there. Nia had nearly blasted a hole through the wall on accident in controlled conditions when Brainy had been training her, she could only imagine what kind of destruction Nova could cause if she was set loose in there.

It was strange to think all of that had only been a few hours ago. Now, Nova slept peacefully, odd ends of blonde hair strewn across her face.

Nia reached out, tucking those strands behind Nova’s ears. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, pressing a kiss against her daughter’s forehead. Nova scrunched her nose slightly before relaxing again, and Nia had to bite her lip hard to keep from making any sound.

She was perfect. Even with the chaos today had brought, Nia wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Sleep tight, Firestarter,” she murmured fondly.

When Nia returned to the doorway, she found Brainy waiting for her. She grinned, linking her hand with his. “Come with me,” she said, tugging him along towards the living room. “We have alien wine.” She raised her voice enough for Alex to hear. “And guess who just offered to babysit?”

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainia #nia nal #brainiac 5 #alex danvers #oc: nova #my prompts #anon #i'm basically breaking through my writer's block with force of will #i really liked the idea of alex just being like i know exactly what brainy and nia need: alcohol #honestly what a legend

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adamdriverwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Carpe Noctem || Part 3

Plot summary: Mob boss’s daughter & bodyguard au ft. Kylo Ren. Based off this plot bunny (x)

Warnings: nothing worth mentioning. So your basic mentions of death, swearing, implications of crime.

Word count: 3888

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader

A/N: Here is part 3! Thank you to everyone who commented, I never knew this many people would like my story! I can’t believe the amount of people who have liked and reblogged so thank you so much xxx

Taglist: @helloimindelaware, @dandydragonz, @musicalcoffeebean, @driverficarchive, @hazydespair, @maybell88, @bikinibrattoms, @fanfic-fangirl, @stillreadingfantasy, @0nevergrowoldnevergrowold0, @sarasxe, @um-well,

Masterlist here

You sat in your parked car outside the Supremacy. The facade of the building was seemingly unchanged since you had last seen it all those years ago. It was a large, two story building in a relatively nice neighborhood. Dark stone stretching almost half a block, black windows obscuring a view inside, and a neon red sign with 'The Supremacy' in a cursive font hanging over the door.

It was a long shot coming here, but you were still working up the courage to go to Mallory's apartment. You figured this was a suitable stepping stone. She had mentioned her friend in passing conversations, had apparently worked at the establishment for years. You didn't know what time she worked, day or night, and she probably wasn't even here today but you didn't want to head back home right away. And it was a long shot in which you were wiling to investigate a little further. You had to start somewhere.

There was a lone member of security outside the front doors. Black clothes, tall figure, imposing; completely the modus operandi of your father's workers. There was no line to get in, not unsurprising given it was mid afternoon on a Friday so you straightened your leather jacket and walked up to the bald, intimidating bouncer.

His eyes looked you up and down, before quirking an eyebrow. "ID?"

You pulled your ID from your pocket, where it was nestled in between your card and your phone and handed it to him without fault. He looked it over, eyes checking the photo matched your profile before he looked back at the driver's license. His brown eyes widened profusely, and he handed it back to you.

"Sorry, Miss Snoke." He stepped the side, an arm outstretched to welcome you into the establishment your father owned. You entered a dark hallway, bass in the music traveling further, blackout curtains separated as you walked through. Your eyes were assaulted by bright, colourful lights. Dancing wildly around the room in perfect time with the music. Four elevated stages, with poles that stretched to the ceiling were placed around the room, seats arranged the stage. Tables were littered in between and a long bar was nestled against the far wall. It was slightly more busy that you thought it would be, your expectations exceeded to see a woman dancing on a stage, six men littered around her in various seats. A few more patrons sat at a table, two women talking to the group, flirting and petting the men in their suits.

You had never actually been in the Supremacy. But it was a classier joint than you extrapolated. Surfaces looked clean, and the air was fresh with a hint of perfume. Black furniture, and red silk curtains hanging from the ceiling provided some tables extravagant privacy on the wall opposite the bar. Large stairs in front of you wound up to the second floor. Another set of double doors were open, revealing a long hallway that disappeared. A glass railing on the second floor surrounded the deck, and you noticed it linked all the way around to a second floor office. The front wall of the office consisted entirely of glass, a suitable viewing precipice for whoever ran this place for your father now.

You spotted a male bartender working, polishing glasses and stocking the bar. A young man, maybe in his late twenties, blonde hair and blue eyes, black uniform t-shirt that simply had 'The Supremacy' in the same font. You walked forward, weaving through the empty tables before you stepped up to the bar. He looked up, smile painted on his previously vacant face, and put down a glass and a polishing rag.

"Welcome!" His eyes raked over your form quickly, and it felt like he was vaguely ogling you. "What's your poison?"

You gave a half assed attempt at a smile, "I'm not here for a drink."

"Hmm," he hummed in interruption, leaning forward on the bar. "A dance? A job, then?"

You bit your lip, "No-"

"I mean, you've got a great body but, darlin’, this is one of the best clubs in town. Girls are dying to dance here."

You were sick of him interrupting you. Ogling you. You had little patience today, so you decided to tell a half-lie just to shut him up. "I know. My Father owns this place." You had no idea of the waiting list to work here, but you pretended.

His face stilled and he leaned back slightly. You pulled your ID from your pocket once again and waved it in front of his face for good measure, then placed it back into your jacket. "I want to talk to Lacy. Is she around?"

He reeled, "Look, I didn't mean no disrespect, I had no idea-"

"I don't give a shit." You interrupted him in turn. "It's important, I just want to see Lacy. I don't know her stripper name but I know she works here."

"She's not in, she hasn't been in for a few days, I don't know her work schedule but I can get the manager? He'll know more than me."

You nodded your head. "Okay, sure."

He leaned over, leaning his hand under the bar, he pressed something and his eyes averted up to the office you had spied previously. He withdrew his hand and picked up the glass and rag once more. "He'll be down in a moment. Wait here."

You nodded, and watched as he moved down the bar slightly, back to restocking the glasses on the wall.

You gazed around, music changing as the dancer walked off the stage after collecting her money, another dancer filling her spot. The men didn't move, cigars between their lips and drinks in hand, patiently waiting to get their fill. All men looked successful, and had amber liquid swirling in their glasses. Suits adorned their bodies and shiny watches adorned their wrists. It was easy to assume this was a classy establishment, catering to more high paying clientele.

Which confused you slightly because this business had originally started as a front. It was a way for your father to launder money from his other ventures that were less than legal. Or a way to siphon a small amount anyway - he had a few legitimate businesses for this purpose now but the Supremacy had been one of the first.

Clearly, the Snoke name was still among high standards of rich and elite of New York. Your father had all sorts of friends in all sorts of places, and almost all of them owed him favors. Politicians, lawyers, moguls - clearly they all wanted to be a part of something bigger, something mysterious. The Snoke crime family.

A blur out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. At the top of the stairs you noticed a tall figure in a dark, all black suit. Pale skin, bright red hair, and a caustic confidence you could feel from basically halfway across the room.

Armitage Hux.

You didn't fight the smirk that curved your lips as your eyes locked with his. A chilling smirk mirrored his lips and he made his way down the stairs. Eyes completely focused on you.

You couldn't believe he was still alive - let alone running the fucking Supremacy. His father had been an advisor of your own. A part of a small council that ran the whole operation. Hux had been around when you were a kid, though he was closer to Ares' and Roman's age than yours.

He had been a smarmy, confident piece of shit growing up. Like a lot of people, he was at your house often. You didn't start getting to know each other until you were a little older, around 12 or 13, before you left for boarding school. You still thought he was a cocky shit, but the two of you had something in common.

A disdain for Lyon.

He seemed to rub a lot of people the wrong way, though you never seemed to mind him too much. But you were a good judge of character - you knew he was manipulative, cunning, cruel even. But he had always had a good head for business, and was loyal to the Snoke family and the Order. If you knew what you were expecting, then it wasn't that bad.

Hux approached the bar, green eyes piercing as he walked closer. He spoke your name with an almost unbelievable exhale. "I didn't know you were back in town."

"Well, you don't know everything."

"Ah, but I do. That's my expertise." He came to stand in front of you, looking you over before leaning against the bar nonchalantly. He looked exactly the same as you remembered, if only aged slightly, soft wrinkles around his eyes. Otherwise his hair was still perfectly gelled back, not a strand out of place, his clothes still immaculately pressed with his usual stiff and rigid posture.

"Never the less, to what do I owe the pleasure?" His eyes shifted to the bartender behind you and he flicked his finger, his attention returned to you. Pale green eyes absorbing your figure. "Tell me you're here for me." You knew you were rather heavy in the chest area, and had an ass to boot, but you weren't under the allusion you were pretty, or gorgeous by any means. In fact you felt particularly plain enough to go under the radar. Though since being home, you hadn't felt more like the opposite. You figured it was the stark growth spurt you had under gone since you were last back home. Last everyone knew - you were just a teenager. Prepubescent and awkward.

"Not quite," you huffed, "I actually just wanted to talk to Lacy." His head raised slightly, eyebrow cocked before realization dawned on his face but you spoke anyway. "She was friends with Mallory."

"Oh... yes. I'm sorry for your loss, I suppose.” You wanted to smile at his awkwardness before he sighed. “Your father has been... never mind. You came all the way here just to talk and reminisce with a stripper?"

Again, you felt the instinctual need to lie, but resisted. "I just wanted to hear some things about Mallory's life, since I've been gone so long." It wasn't a lie, technically.

The bartender's presence interrupted your conversation, and he placed two glasses of scotch down on the bar before making himself scarce. You didn't want to drink, though now it was placed in front of you, you wanted to knock the whole thing back.

"Anything for you." An almost evil, calculating smirk curved his lips. "But first, let's catch up in my office. You owe me that much."

"I don't owe you anything."

He hummed out a laugh, signalling something you didn't know to the bartender and gestured up the stairs towards his office. It was a short walk, though his close presence felt behind you made it feel longer than it actually was. You reached his office, and he opened the double doors, allowing you inside before shutting them behind you.

It was a big area, not wide, but particularly long as it recessed into the building. Half of the office was glass, giving a perfect view to the club below. It was dark grey walls with a flourish of a red velvet couch. A desk with a few papers were scattered on it, and you noticed it was devoid of any type of computer. You guessed your father was still paranoid about any digital trails leading to evidence that could prove hurtful.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured to the red velvet seat situated opposite his desk. "It’s been a long time. What have you been up to all these years?"

You walked forward, taking a sip of your drink before collapsing into the comfortable seat, eyes watching Hux as he rounded the desk and followed suit. "Studying..." you shrugged, "working... enjoying life away from my family."

"It would appear so." Hux's eyes flashed with something, and a smirk graced his lips again. "He sent you off to boarding school, you graduated, and never came back. Clearly you were off having fun."

"Fun is for children."

"Which you are not." Again Hux looked over your form.

"You know what he's like, it’s why I didn't come back. Why are you still here?"

"I've worked hard to get where I am today, my loyalty and allegiance to the First Order and the Snoke family-"

"And look what you have to show for it; a strip club?" You interrupted his tirade. "You've done far more than Lyon has and less to show for it. You respect nepotism?"

His nostrils flared at the mention of your brother and you knew that he was still a sore spot for Armitage. "That is but one instance. Not everyone of import in the Order is of your father's blood."

You nodded, "Phasma?"

"Ren."

It was your turn for your nostrils to flare and you quirked a brow. "My father's bodyguard?"

"That's a simplification. I wish his duties were that insignificant."

"Well they are now."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been tasked as my bodyguard while I'm here."

Hux leaned forward at this, elbows resting on his desk, his interest suddenly focused. "Is that so?"

"Why is that so interesting?" This piqued your curiosity. "What does he do for my father exactly?"

Hux seemed to choose his next words carefully. "Ren is his... fidus Achates, his saboteur, his right hand man."

You got that sense with how often he was in your father's office. He was even in his office when he had kicked Lyon out earlier. If anything that was conducive to the fact that he was more trusted than any other man you knew about in the Order. Even when you were a kid, your father didn't have any men that seemed permanently glued to the shadowy corners of the room.

"Whatever problems your father has, Ren makes them go away."

"So like his hitman?" You ask.

"More like a rabid animal." Hux spat the words, and you gathered there was a little contempt from the red headed man. "Kept on leash by only your father and let loose whenever he pleases. You thought he was ruthless before you left? Well, Ren is solving every problem with bloodshed and violence."

"Unnecessarily?" You sipped your drink, leaning back into your seat.

"No, your father points his finger, and Ren takes care of the rest... destroys everything in his path."

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly. "If he’s so important why would my Dad assign him to me?"

This made Hux smirk. "Precisely."

You had your perceptions about Armitage, you had known him since you were young. While you didn't trust him exactly, you trusted that you knew him well enough to talk about Mallory.

"He thinks something happened to Mallory."

"I know." Hux sipped the amber liquid. "We've talked about it. While Ren handles the... messier assignments, my strength is acquiring knowledge and intel."

"And what have you found out?"

"Nothing." He didn't look like he was lying, not that you were sure what that even looked like. "Not yet, anyway. Is that why you're here?"

You sipped your drink again, if only to stall time before you answered. "I just wanted to talk to Lacy, but yes."

"And now look at you, talking to me. Isn't this so much better?"

Your mind couldn't help but wander, back to Kylo. So much mystery surrounded him, leaving you in the dark and Hux was finally providing a little light on the situation. And he seemed rather accepting to share. You made a mental note to think of some questions to ask him, hoping that he would give some truthful answers.

About to open your mouth, you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and you pulled it out of your pocket to see a message from your father. And two missed calls.

Where are you? We're having an early dinner. Just family.

You withheld a sigh that wanted to escape, and you looked back to your company. "I've got to go." You threw back the rest of your whiskey and put it on his desk before standing up.

"So soon?" Hux mirrored your movements. "You just got here."

"I'll see you soon."

He grabbed a pen and paper off his desk, handing it to you. "write down your number, when Lacy comes in I'll let you know."

You wanted to question his helpfulness but decided against it. Feverishly writing down your digits and handing it back to him instead. "Thanks, Hux."

"Of course."

Leaving the Supremacy left you feeling a little defeated. Even though Hux said he would text you when Lacy was next in, it meant today had come to a standstill, stagnant in your search for information. Your next plan was to head to the penthouse, see what possessions of Mallory's was still around, however, your fathers text had brought that idea to a standstill. Maybe you could go later tonight, when everything had calmed down? Jumping back into your car, you sent a quick reply to your Dad

Just at the store getting tampons, leaving now.

You hoped he was grossed out enough by a woman’s basic bodily functions to not want to reply. Starting your car, the V8 grumbling loudly. You pulled from the curb and headed to the direction of your house.

Seeing Hux again after so many years was a refreshing change of pace. He acted the same as he did all those years ago and looked the same too, save for a few wrinkles displaying the passage of time. The two of you catching up was good, and he had divulged some impertinent information regarding your new ‘bodyguard’ that proved fruitful. You hoped next time he would be even more forthcoming.

The drive home was shorter than you expected, just less than an hour. Traffic was light, and you were pulling into the Snoke driveway before you knew it. You wished it had dragged on longer, you half preferred sitting in your car than going inside to drink and eat with your family. You hadn't shed a single tear at the funeral earlier today, and you expected the strong facade you had adapted was going to falter.

As you drove down the long winding driveway, rounding the towering willow trees either side you came into view of the house, and then the garage. The electronic door at the very end already open, you didn’t have time to be confused as a tall, dark form came into view.

Kylo.

He was standing in your spot, a cigarette dangling between his fingers as his dark eyes stared at you. His stoic form didn't move until you came forward, moving so you could park your car in the area he had occupied. You killed the engine once you parked and didn't have time to open your door before he had done it for you.

"Welcome home." You grabbed your belongings from the seat beside you and looked up at the man standing over you. Once you were clear, he shut the drivers side door, and blocked the way to inside the house. You tried to maneuver around him but he moved to defer you.

This caused you to sigh. Your eyes darted up to meet his.

"Yes?"

"Your father’s been worried."

You rolled your eyes. "I was gone for a few hours, so that's his problem."

"And his problems become my own." He stepped forward, the small distance between you became even smaller. "If you don't want me to come with you then you at least need to tell me where you're going."

It was obvious now what he was getting at. Your little field trip to go see Hux had apparently not gone unnoticed. Or, well, to the store to get tampons if your message was to be believed. You didn't think your father was going to be enforcing the whole bodyguard thing so intensely, or so quickly. Though an idea came to mind.

"You seem like a moderately intelligent guy..." Your eyes looked over his form. "Built for brute force rather than a boring protective detail of the little old likes of me." His full, pink lips encompassed the cigarette to take a puff and it almost momentarily made you falter. His hum pulled you from your thoughts of what they could have felt like and you continued. "I have a proposition for you."

"And what would that be?"

"Surely you have more important things to deal with. Which is why, if you want to do your own thing while I do my own, that's totally understandable - in fact, its actually preferable." For the first time since you've been home you tried to plaster a welcoming smile on your face. Trying hard to seem like a demure little girl your Dad had painted you to be.

Kylo expelled a huff of breath, something akin to a laugh. Your smile faltered slightly at the thought of him laughing at you.

"Your father relies on my ability to perfectly..." he searched for the proper words, throwing his cigarette over your shoulder onto the concrete behind you. "execute whatever he asks of me."

"And you can do that, really make a difference!" It was hard to try appear as chipper as you were. Manipulation was a hard game, and you were not a happy person. "Instead of following me to the mall, or to see my friends while I'm here, you can strive to make my Dad proud."

You weren't much of a shopper, and you had no friends here to speak of. It was a low shot, but you hoped by his assumptions on your gender and what most women liked to do, you could get away with the lie.

"Your father informed me of your shrewd capabilities." You didn't know it was possible but he walked forward another step, closing the distance between you two. You had to strain your head to look up at him. He spoke with a deep conviction that conveyed anger being tethered by a small sliver of control. "It's why he chose me for the job. I won't be swayed so easily, especially by a spoiled little princess."

Your smile faltered, and you felt your rage flourish at his words. Suddenly, you couldn't be bothered with this shit. You would think about it later, when your mind wasn't so clouded with the thought of Mallory. "Good luck." You moved past him, looking over your shoulder as you walked into the door that led to the house, shooting him one last look. "Haven’t you heard? I’m cursed.”

He watched you walk away, exhaling the last cloud of smoke through his nostrils. The door to the garage slammed before he dug his hand deep into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a small gps tracker. Getting down on the floor, he leaned underneath your car by the rear wheel frame. Pulling off the small adhesive backing, he pressed it to the metal where it would be hidden. Flicking the switch to activate, he quickly paired the device to the app on his phone before getting up, and following suit into the Snoke manor.

#kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo x you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren au #kylo ren imagine #carpe noctem #adam driver #adam driver x reader

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evien-stark · 4 years ago

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 194

It was the Monday before Christmas. And three days before the big holiday party that seemed to be looming all the more. While everyone important had already RSVP'd and there was no need to worry about who would be coming when, you hadn’t had much time to actually plan for it. Buried beneath a mountain of worries that no matter how many times Tony told you to ease off of, you couldn’t help yourself. Maybe when the day came that you actually could you should start being concerned.

But that didn’t help now. It was a little late to ask Pepper or Happy to start helping out- even though you knew they would without question. That was exactly why you couldn’t abuse their sense of responsibility. Nor their sense of friendship. They’d do it because it was you asking. So you shouldn’t ask.

Going through the motions like this was a little strange. You’d never had trouble before just… making phone calls. Doing what should have been ordinary tasks. Yet now it felt like you were trudging up a hill to do even the smallest of things. Open an email. Check the news. Do anything that mattered. But you just… couldn’t. Couldn’t seem to work up the will or the strength.

This in turn made you feel worse. Your lack of effort was abysmal and things were going to start suffering because of it. But worrying about that only put you ten steps even further back. This was turning into a mess. You had a party to plan in less than three days now, and you had to do it right before the holidays. Everyone would already be booked up. Not that they wouldn’t move all their things around to cater a Stark Industries event. But…

But…

Pepper was only just barely able to garner your attention. “Not that I’m micromanaging you or anything but… I’ve noticed a stellar lack of food and bar disasters. My phone’s been eerily silent.”

Every big party always ran under the assumption that if something could go wrong, it most definitely would. And always did. This close to the party- Pepper was right. Her phone should have been blowing up. She should have been delegating things left and right for clean up. It was hard to even bring yourself to admit defeat here. “I… haven’t started.”

Her brows went right up, surprise taking hold of her before a more optimistic understanding cloaked her. “I know you have a lot more to worry about than parties.”

Bringing your hands up, you rubbed absently at your forehead. “I shouldn’t.”

With a tip of her head and a cross of her arms she studied you for a moment. “Superhero duties aside, you still are running a business.”

Am I? The thought nearly popped out of you. Only just barely stopping it. Your mouth was open to say something. Something that was of more detriment to you than her. Instead you just sighed with a shake of your head. “I just fell behind, I guess.”

“Do you need help?”

This question struck you at an odd angle. If you were any weaker you might have just started crying. You almost felt it on the horizon. Your eyes avoided hers. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Really?” Now she was smiling. Teasing, just a little. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

Your own smile by comparison was gray and fake. “Well. In that case… think you can throw together something in the next three days?”

The roll of her eyes was of a somewhat loving sort. “Only for you.”

“Thank you.”

She left without another word, closing the door behind her. Left you there. Sitting. Stewing about things you had no control over yet. Things you promised Tony you’d try and stop worrying about. But you couldn’t. Anxious immobility had you for a little while longer. But when you found the connection between your brain and your limbs again…

You found yourself picking up your cell phone. Making a very important call. It rang twice, but when he finally picked up, “Ms. INY.” His usual soft voice was a balm.

“Hi, JARVIS.”

“A delight as always. To what do I owe the pleasure this time?” There was no easy way of asking this. In fact, thinking it made you feel a little foolish. So much so that when too much time had passed, “...Ms. INY?” “Would you-” The words startled out of you. But you stopped, still not sure how to ask. He waited this time, finally getting the gist, perhaps, of what was going on. “...I know you’re coming down for the holiday party with the rest of them but I… I’d like to spend some time with you. Before then. If that’s okay with you.”

He didn’t have to think much about it. “Okay is perhaps an understatement.” But this still wasn’t a real yes.

And your heart wanted to ask. So you did. “JARVIS will you come home?”

The sound of a light little amused breath escaped him. “Home…”

Something inside of you twisted uncomfortable. “I know that’s not a fair thing to ask- or even say- I know- I know you’re settled in over there, but-”

“Please don’t mistake my reaction. I think I was merely… reminiscing.”

Your smile was weak, but a shade truer than the one you’d worn in front of Pepper. “Would you mind reminiscing over here?”

There was a more certain chuckle this time. “Certainly. I can be there by this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Now you felt bad. “You don’t have to just run for me. I can meet you tomorrow.”

“I don’t have to. But I’d like to.”

Well. That settled it, then.

---

He arrived sooner than he promised. A little after eleven. Pepper showed him into your office. Though you’d only just been able to break from your stupor and get a small amount of work done, his presence superseded anything else you had to do that day. Mostly because you missed him but also because you had asked him to come here and to ignore him after the fact or ask him to wait would be rude.

He was dressed rather casually, something you’d never seen him do before. And, as you got up from your desk and walked over, you inspected him just a little. Dark slacks, an argyle sweater, a warm trench coat with a cable knit scarf- which you reached up to give a little tug. “Who’s dressing you these days? They’re doing a wonderful job.”

His grin was honest. “I dress myself, thank you.”

“You’ve always had good taste.”

“I’m glad you’ve not forgotten.”

It was with great ease and relief that you lifted up on tippy-tip-toe and wound your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. His reaction was just as kind and swift, his own coming around the mid of your back. Holding to you. You missed him. The embrace probably said all that and more. But he also deserved a life free of being held to your every beck and call- even if that’s what he’d said he wanted to do.

When finally the two of you found it in yourselves to part, you rocked back a little on your heels. “Would you mind taking a walk around the park with me?”

His expression turned curious “It’s frightfully chilly outside. And snowing.”

“Well lucky for us I have a jacket and an umbrella.” Easy remedies to the problems he was posing. It would just be nice to go outside and get some fresh air. Be away from all the reminders that you weren’t doing as much as you could.

For a moment he seemed like he might deny you, but then you realized he was thinking about something else. “And what of your engagement ring?”

To this your brows shot straight up in surprise. He’d caught you completely off guard. Your hands went to your hips. “Rhodey blabbed??” Disappointed if that was the case but not necessarily mad.

JARVIS’ half smirk was very telling. “You mistake me for a fool. I assure you, I’m not.”

You weren’t really sure what he meant by that. “Are we being too obvious?” You and Tony had only tried to make it extremely clear that the holiday party could not be missed.

“Perhaps. But… while my estimations were that that would be the next step the two of you took… I was merely guessing.”

The shake of your head was a little too quick. “Ah. You tricked me. I see.” Walking away from him then to grab your jacket hanging on the back of the door. A dramatic sigh escaped you as you shouldered your coat on. “And to think I was excited to tell you myself…”

A bout of sadness mixed with nervousness caught him. “-I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.” Worried that he’d done exactly that. And feeling pretty bad about it.

You took him by the arm. “You could never ruin anything.” Assuring him. Not wanting him to carry that weight around. “Shall we?”

It took him a second to rebound, but eventually he did smile with a nod. “We shall.”

---

The first thing you did was bring him down the block to get coffee. Despite all the common occurrences- superheroes and battles being waged across the city more often than ever- everyone had their phones up snapping pictures. Maybe it was that the world wasn’t used to seeing The Vision being so casual. ...all the more reason to soften up his image a little. Make him a little less alien and new and more just… like the rest of everyone else. What better way to do that than to put a Starbucks frou-frou latte in his hand.

He insisted on holding the umbrella as the two of you walked. And despite the extremely sensitive nature of literally every topic you wanted to and did talk with him about, you weren’t worried for some reason about interlopers. Sure, there were paparazzi camping on the other side of the street, matching your strides, snapping pictures, but… you and JARVIS were in your own little world. And it felt good to just let it all out. Talk with him. Confide in him.

By the time you were finished you were part way into Central Park. The lattes had long ago lost their heat. You’d finished unloading on him, and the two of you stood lakeside as he thought. His gaze was distant. Almost like he was calculating every bit of information you’d handed to him and trying to figure out the best approach to deal with everything. But. When he was finished and he turned again to look at you-

“I think… there is merit in planning. In the efforts of planning. But if you don’t mind my saying so, that is not your strength.”

This you didn’t expect to hear from him at all. Your brows went straight up and your head tipped to the side. “Really.”

There was just a tick of nervousness. Very small and barely noticeable. It was clear he didn’t want to say the exact wrong thing. He continued on regardless. “Tony’s great strengths are in his futurism ways. He’s able to see- what he hopes will come and knows what will not. And he plans. He builds. But where that is his strength, his weakness is action in the moment. Without following a set path, should something wrong happen, he becomes impulsive and brash. He falls back to others. Like Rogers. Like you.”

This was a whole hell of a lot to take in. But as you listened, as you did think about all of it… JARVIS had some very fine points. Tony was the smartest man on earth no doubt, but he was also the dumbest sometimes, too. And brash was an understatement. You remembered very clearly an incident with a reporter that then led to a missile being blasted at your house in California. It wasn’t that Tony couldn’t handle situations, he could, but JARVIS was right. Given the choice he always seemed to ask the people he trusted in heated moments what they thought the next right move was instead of ordering and falling back to his own sense.

As you were still struggling with all of this, JARVIS took a breath and then continued. “You can only prepare for an event or a future so much until it starts causing your detriment. I think all the fallout shelters that litter this world are a great example of such. Preparing for a future that would never come, some even driving men to madness.” This. This was where you and Tony were right now. You knew that’s what he was getting at. And Tony had been there- stewing in that trying-to-prepare madness a few times more than you.

Building an army of suits that he then… destroyed more than half of. That impulsivity again… And your suit too, all in the efforts of preparation. Every upgrade, every little touch. You sighed, watching your breath hang on the air. “I hope you’re not about to tell me I just need to ignore everything and go on with my life.” As if that was even an option.

His smile was sweet. “You and I both know that would be advice that would go unheeded. No. What I mean to say, is that where Tony’s strength is his planning, yours is your action. You are guided by some strange force, I have no doubt, in moments where it seems like all is lost. You always know what to do. Or what to say.”

Denial was so very easy. Your head was shaking and you turned just a little bit away. “I can’t say I agree.”

“I know you won’t, but please at least consider what I’m saying. This is why people look to you. It is not for your planning, it is for what you will do in moments that matter. How you will quell fears and calm hearts with well placed words. You make a sense of the impossible and follow through for the betterment of everyone behind you. Please just… think about this. About every time you found yourself in a terrible situation, but your heart guided you out. Your care for others makes you a very powerful force in every moment where it mattered.”

“So… what?” You lifted a hand at him in a half shrug. “You’re seriously telling me to just ignore all this and go with the flow? Just count on that I’ll know what to do when I have to do it?” This wasn’t a very reasonable plan.

Smile gone then, he frowned softly. “I am asking you to trust that Tony will plan for everything that he can. And for the things that he cannot, I know you will find your way out on the other side. I have seen it time and time again.” Still a little upset that this was the conclusion he was drawing, you opened your mouth to continue arguing, but he stopped you. “Did you plan to call me here? Or did you just do it?”

It was like he’d caught you in a trap. You felt like you were caught. Like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar. “I… I wanted to spend some time with you. And talk with you about all this.”

Strangely, he offered up his half empty coffee cup and without thinking you reached to take it from him. His then free hand moved to lay on your shoulder. “And here I am.” There was so much weight to this.

You called him because you wanted to talk- so you should trust him. You called him because you wanted to spend time with him- and he’d heeded this need without a second thought. Maybe part of you knew he would.

...was JARVIS on to something here?

“Hey- uh- excuse me?” Before you could make heads or tails of this new advice or what to do with it, a young voice called your attention. Both you and JARVIS turned and were greeted with the sight of a stout young man with dark hair and eyes. “Sorry- I’m sorry to bother you-”

You gave him a smile to let him know he was alright. “That’s okay. What’s your name?” JARVIS stood back a little uncomfortably. Obviously unused to these types of situations.

His grin was suddenly explosive and sunny. “Ned. I uh- would it be cool to get your autographs?” He then held up a very crumpled piece of paper- probably something that was shoved deep into one of his coat pockets, not exactly expecting to see either of you. He also produced a pen that you were mostly sure wasn’t going to work in this temperature.

This was an easier break so you jumped at the opportunity. “Sure thing. Would you mind holding one of these?”

“Of course! What are you drinking, anyway? Oh- hey- can you make it out to my friend over there?” He shifted just a little to nod to said kid, light brown hair, deep-set frown, and dressed in a jean jacket (too cold for such a fashion choice). Someone who wasn’t even really there at all.

Your attention went to him. He was staring out, probably looking at nothing. Spacing out. Somewhere far away. He was cloaked in such a heavy sadness. “Is your friend okay?”

Ned considered him a little more carefully. “That obvious, huh? I’ve been trying to get him out of the house all week. His aunt finally made him leave. So… now we’re here and… honestly he’s not having a good time. But I don’t know what else to do.”

“What would make him happier?” The kid was internally shaking with such grief. It was an easy guess to make- sudden loss.

“Oh I don’t… I dunno. I thought maybe an autograph or a selfie but. I don’t even think he heard me when I said I saw you. Here. Hold on-” Ned put one hand to the side of his mouth. “Yo! PETE! COME HERE!” Yelling so loud everyone in the immediate vicinity heard him.

Said Pete looked up finally, a little startled from his dark and stormy thoughts. He looked for the sound of his friend’s voice and zeroed in pretty instantly. And then he looked at JARVIS. And then at you. And embarrassment flushed through him. A strange reaction to have, really. But it did the trick and he broke free from his thoughts as he gave an awkward jog over.

His smile was an uneasy one. “Hey- hi- sorry. Is he bothering you?” Pretending like he had any control over the situation but there was a shyness here that was hard to deny. Not surprising. Considering. Well. Who you were.

“Not at all. I was about to sign my name on a piece of paper but I thought I should get your name first.” You made sure to give him a very warm smile.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Oh uh- I’m- uh. Peter. Peter Parker.” The name hit you upside the head. So much so that it left your brows squinched as you stared at him. Trying to remember where you’d heard that before. His unease came back tenfold. “Did I uh… did I say something wrong?”

“No it’s just- oh!” Your revelation startled all three boys standing there. “I remember you!” You were suddenly a million miles away in your memories. Crouching down to help a small child.

“I’m waiting.”

“Waiting for who?”

“Iron Man.”

Such a small and scared child. Holding on to the hope that Iron Man might come back. Excited that he’d gotten to help. But overwhelmed with everything that had gone on. Scared and lost. Just really wanting to go home.

“I won’t- Peter, what’s your last name- so I can have Iron Man send you a personal thank you note!”

“Peter Parker!!!”

“Thank you for your help, Peter Parker!” You returned to the present to see Ned’s mouth agape and Peter was turning a certain shade of nervous red. “Oh. Really?” Not believing you at all no matter how good it felt to be told that.

You laid a hand on his shoulder, imparting with it a warmth that matched that smile you were still wearing. It cut through the cold and the sadness inside of him. “Of course I do. The Expo. Took me a minute. You’re a lot bigger than when I last saw you.”

His own smile in turn then was extremely bashful as he shook his head. “Yeah well I’ll um… I’ll try to stop that.”

A soft little laugh escaped you and this boosted him all the more. “What? You thought I was lying?” He gave a shrug. “Well you know. I’m sure you meet hundreds of people every day- not lying by the way- just-... just uh…” He didn’t want to call you a liar but he didn’t know how else to phrase that thought. Stuck now. You helped him out. “Sure. I do. But none like Peter Parker.”

His head ducked. “Alright- now you’re either trying to embarrass me or make me look really cool.”

Ned gave him a nudge. “My gut says mega cool. Dude. How have you not told me about this before?”

“I don’t know- it’s never come up-”

“You parade that letter around from Tony like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, meanwhile-”

“Ned- shut up!” Embarrassment taking such a deep hold of Peter then as he gave him a playful little shove. Ah. Kids. Wonderful. They were both laughing at each other after squabbling a moment longer and you could just tell. It did Ned’s heart a lot of good to hear the sound of Peter’s laugh. And it did Peter a lot of good to be able to laugh. So. Peter really admired Tony. Had held onto that letter that you’d had sent his way. The next step was pretty clear. “How would you boys like to go visit the Stark Labs?” While Ned was excited, Peter was over the moon. Like you’d just offered him the world. Stars were in his eyes. Color returned to his otherwise gray heart in small drips. “Really?” “Sure.” Nodding firmly. “I’ll call Happy and let him know to expect you. Feel free to have lunch on us in the cafeteria, too. Oh-” You pretended like you’d only just remembered. “Tony will probably be there. You’re okay with that, right?” “Dude- are we okay with that?” Ned was about to explode. Peter was grinning. “We- we are very okay with that. As long as he’s okay with that- I’d… I don’t want to interrupt Mr. Stark or anything. I’m sure he’s working on all kinds of important stuff.”

You waved your hand, still holding on to that piece of paper. “Don’t worry about him. He loves visitors. He’ll show you around.”

“Really?” Both were practically jumping at the prospect. “Absolutely. Go on. Go head over there now. I’ll have Happy meet you in the lobby.” Decided then that that was exactly what they were going to do. How could you not after the way they’d reacted?

“Thank you-” About twenty of those got thrown at you frantically, but each one packed with the exact sort of gratitude two teenage kids would have over an opportunity like this. You sent them off with two equal pats on the shoulders and heard little bits of their chattering conversation as they hurried away. About how cool you were and how awesome that had been. The sudden burst of adoration from JARVIS had you quickly turning his way. He was smiling at you. In such a way that… “What?” Looking up at him confused. Not sure what he was thinking about just then.

Just a touch of nervousness held him then but he managed to get the thought out. “This may be a bit gauche, however… have you and Tony talked about having children?” Shock got the better of you, having in no way expected him to say something like that. Rebuff was extremely easy as you had no idea how to react to him saying something like that to you. “Gauche, huh? This is a little beyond gauche.” A chuckle escaped him and his head dipped. “Yes, well… I just feel as though your maternal talents are wasted on a cat.” With a little mock offense in your tone, “She does not agree with you.” The teasing mood seemed to die very quickly. He was looking at you. Considering if he should say what it was he seemed to want to say. His courage was enough to get him there. “...as well as Ultron. Who was too blind with fury to know how good he had it, until the moment when he realized it was all gone. And then he wisely begged for one last sunrise with you.”

Stunned would have been putting it mildly. Your heart was strangely aching yet full to bursting. Did JARVIS think about that often, you wondered. To say all this… it was hard to know how to react. You tried to keep the mood light. “Hmn. And this coming from-” Whatever you wanted to say it didn’t matter. His hand reached out, brushing yours, taking hold of it. Grounding you. Making you understand just how deeply he felt about this. “Someone who has never had the mind to complain about how and when you place your care. ...and has been eternally grateful for it, as well.”

Heat touched your face. As well as your heart. There wasn’t really a good word to define your relationship with JARVIS. Anything that existed would either be too little, not close enough, or maybe even too much. But you knew that you loved him. Immensely. And he felt the same way. It was exactly those feelings that guided you up on tiptoe once again, putting an arm around him. Squeezing him. Something he returned in the very next instant.

...kids, huh?

---

That Thursday came almost a little too fast. Sounds of merriment and cheer rang from party central. Pepper had done an utterly fantastic job. The room was decorated beautifully. The caterers had arrived early, set up, and were serving to perfection. And the bar was fully stocked and manned. Music selection was- ...well that was easy. But. The atmosphere was perfect. And you let her know how much you appreciated that.

People trickled in and out. Stark and DC employees who were grateful to have free booze and food and a warm place to be with people they semi-liked. You indulged in more than once holiday slowdance. Everyone was having a good time. Even as the hours passed by and those not closest left. All as it should be. Leaving a table of Avengers and ex-SHIELD employees all joking and laughing with each other. Coulson had come, like he’d promised, and with him he’d brought May. Even Clint and Laura had managed to get a babysitter and come out (with the help of a private jet courtesy of Stark Industries, of course). Natasha had been keen to keep with them through the night. Helen Cho had introduced you to her son Amadeus early in the night but he’d been far more interested in talking to Tony than he had you. No hard feelings. Even Fury and Maria were there, too.

Steve had come with Sharon- which was more than a nice surprise. It was good that he was still trying to find his way in that world and not giving up hope. Although Sam seemed to hang around them like they were an official throuple. You wouldn’t judge, if that were the case. ...though you would be extremely surprised.

Wanda and Pietro had kept mostly to themselves but had loosened up a little more as the night went on. You’d noticed they also kept pretty glued to JARVIS’ side. You’d have to ask him what that was about. Maybe new-Avenger comradery?

Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper had all stayed, too. It felt like one big family. It had its problems- a lot of them- but for one night… just for one night you wanted everyone to be happy and get along. Your heart also ached at the thought of Bruce still being gone. Not here, where he should be. And Thor, too. Missing. So not a complete family but… the only one you had right now.

You and Tony had come back from the wine cellar with a special bottle of champagne, and as you carried in your arms over to the laughing group, all eyes went up your way. Tony put an arm around your shoulder, and Natasha raised her glass of wine with a little half smirk. “Come on, already.”

Maria seemed to be in agreement. “Yeah. Out with it. We’ve been waiting all night.”

Steve seemed a little confused. “Waiting on what?”

Clint lounged back. “Beats me. What are we going on about now?” Laura gave him a little pat on the leg. “Just give it a second.”

JARVIS, Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy by contrast were all trying (and failing) to hold back smiles. So. It seemed to some people this rouse was entirely see-through. And to others… well. They were a little more easily tricked. Not that this was a trick, but a… setup to an announcement. But still. They were kind of stealing the wind from your sails. Strangely despite this, it helped. You really had no idea how to do something like this. How to announce it without it being weird or stuffy or even strangely condescending in a way or- You were thinking too much. And all eyes were on you. So. “Tony and I are getting married.”

Cheers and congratulations leaked out from all around, though some sat a little in their surprise. Steve most of all. But eventually the shock melted away leaving a simple smile, and him reaching for Sharon’s hand. He looked up at you. “When’s the date?” Tony’s arm around your shoulder gave you a little squeeze. “We haven’t gotten there yet. But what I will tell you is that it will be a painfully expensive, terribly annoying destination wedding that you all have to pay your own way to.”

Boos and groans and even some stray pieces of popcorn were thrown his way. It was hard to dodge, while you were still connected to him, so you had to accept a few kernels to the face. Through laughter you gave the next most important piece of information, “This is also still a secret. So we’ll appreciate your discretion.”

Natasha’s smile was just so knowing. “Right. Well… how long exactly has this been a secret?”

Tony’s pride was beaming. “It happened on my birthday.” Through the gasps and mock noises of annoyance that the two of you would hold out on them for that long-

You piped up, “And then happened again on our anniversary.” Confusion entered into play, only until you and Tony fished your respective rings out of your pockets.

People got up then, all clamoring to get a look. They were happy. For the two of you. You weren’t sure what to ask for, out of all this, but… that was about as good as it got. Sam nursed the bottom of his beer but pointed your way. “So let me get this straight. He proposed to you and then you proposed to him.”

Steve put a hand on his hip. “Gotta be honest… seems like exactly the sort of thing they’d do.”

“Thank you?” That seemed like a rib but you decided to try and take it as a compliment. You and Tony were a team, after all, which is exactly what you’d said to him that night. It was why you wanted to engage him right back.

Tony’s smile to Steve was a little encouraging. “You’ll get there.”

Sharon put a hand up. “You’re putting an awful lot of pressure on me. I don’t think I appreciate it.” Smiling while she so obviously teased.

Coulson crossed his arms. “So. It’s obvious which people in the room got the news before the rest of us. But who did you actually tell first?” It was strange that he would ask something like this.

And it also put you in a terribly awkward situation… considering…

Tony took the lead (...and also what you were assuming might have been bait). “Aunt Peggy, actually.”

Rhodey, Happy, Pepper, and JARVIS seemed to soften all at the same time, knowing exactly why that was so important. Those were exactly the people who would. Steve and Sharon, however… seemed a little… lost for words. And this is exactly what you didn’t want to deal with. Especially because you weren’t sure if Steve even knew about Sharon yet. That was not your secret to tell. You held up the hefty bottle of champagne. “This is killing my arms. Can we open it?”

Tony held up a finger. “It was also extremely expensive. You know how I like to do things. So I’d appreciate it if you all pretend you like it.”

Mirth successfully recovered. Terribly awkward situation avoided. What more could you ask for? He escorted you away to the bar to set the bottle down. Tony started uncaging it. You sighed. “Well. That could have been bad.”

He gave a shrug. “Pretty tame, by all accounts.” His smile was giving him away.

You put your arm around his middle and nuzzled his shoulder. He was happy to be able to tell more people. When the world was let in he might really start doing all those daytime talkshows. “I love you.”

His focus shifted immediately and he turned towards you to wrap you up in his tight embrace. “I love you.”

Champagne be damned. You wound your arms around his neck and pressed up closer into him. He welcomed you there, lips meeting yours. You delighted in the comfort of him. The love that was always there for you- but especially now. Sinking in to him was all too easy.

So maybe that kiss had gone on a little longer than you meant it to. Because all too soon more jeers were being cried from the other side of the room. Along with one lone voice- “I’m getting thirsty- would you hurry it up?”

Tony smiled against your lips. “Seems like our audience awaits.” Half mumbling this against your mouth.

“They can await one minute longer.”

“Hmn.” A little hum beset by one kiss and into another. “You won't’ find me complaining.”

He wouldn’t. But they did. ...still didn’t stop the two of you from relishing in each other just a little longer.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Ninety Four

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 51

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @thunderintheshadows, @valkyrie-of-the-light

“I do not need a goddamn wheelchair.” Esme grumbles, five hours later, as Kyle pushes her out of the front entrance of their local hospital. “I can walk on my own.”

“Well considering you fainted once at mom's, and twice while you were here, I think it's safe to say you shouldn't be walking anywhere on your own right now.”

“People faint,” she shrugs.

“Pregnant women shouldn't faint. And they especially shouldn't faint three times. You heard what the doctor said. You're severely dehydrated, your blood pressure is sky high, and when you fainted, you managed to hit your head, give yourself a concussion, and receive seven stitches for your trouble.”

She frowns at the last part; gingerly touching the bandage that covers the injury in question that runs down some of her forehead and into her right eyebrow.

“So now you have a prescription he wants you to get, and you've got this handy dandy portable IV...” he nods down at the small back like device resting in her lap, the needle of the IV having been inserted into the top of her left hand and secured with clear tape. “A nurse will come every day to check on it. To change the bag and see if the line is still good. Just be thankful that you get to go home. If I had my way, I would have had you admitted for a couple of days at least.”

“Well good thing firefighters have no pull when it comes to those things. Because I do not need to be in the hospital. All I need, is to be as far away from mom as possible. Can you believe the things she said? Who says shit like that? Who wishes death on their own son in law? Or basically suggests her married daughter gets an abortion because mommy dearest doesn't like said son in law?”

“Look, what mom said was completely out of line and I think she's a huge bitch for saying any of it. But stop thinking about it. Because what she said and how you reacted is how you ended up here in the first place. So let's not talk about mom at all, okay? I'll take you home and keep an eye on you. You'll be more comfortable there than at my place. In your own bed, surrounded by all your stuff.”

Nik had assured them that it would be perfectly safe to return to the house; she and the security team would be there around the clock, and they were more than capable of both spotting and diffusing threats.

“Not everything,” she sighs. “My kids aren't there. My husband isn't there.”

“Well, he will be, Because he's on his way back.”

“Wait...wait...” she clamps her hands down on the wheels of the chair, preventing them from turning. “...what do you mean he's on his way back? You called him? You actually called him? Why the hell would you do that?”

“I didn't call him. Nik did.”

“Why? She didn't need to do that. Why the hell...?”

“Oh I don't know why she would do that, Esme. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're his wife and you're pregnant with his baby and you nearly just got admitted to the damn hospital!”

“I just fainted. When did it become such a serious issue for someone to faint? It's not life or death.”

“Okay, first of all, it's never normal for someone to just faint unless there's an underlying issue. Second, you're having a baby. So there isn't just a concern with your health, but with the baby's health too. You're not the type that gets sick easily and you don't normally have health problems. But, you have to admit, with the twins and Declan, there were problems. A lot of problems. Especially with the twins. So don't you think it's better to get you looked at and see if there's something else going on? With either of you?”

“It's just stress. The doctor asked if I've been under a lot of stress and I have. Huge stress. And then mom started with her shit and...”

“Listen, it's just better if things are taken seriously. They did some tests and some blood work and if anything is wrong, they'll let you know. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

She nods.

“If nothing is wrong, then great. If something is wrong, then at least they found it and at least they can do something about it. Why do you have to be like this? So damn stubborn? Of all the things you had to inherit from dad, it had to be one of the worst possible things.”

“Well you inherited his looks so the joke's on you,” she teases.

“Are you trying to say I'm ugly?” he grins.

“I'm trying to say when you were born, mom said 'what a treasure' and dad said 'yeah, let's bury it'.”

Kyle chuckles. “I should dump you out of this wheelchair for saying that.”

“You'd never. You love me too much. Since we were kids and you used to beat up the bullies that used to teased me because I liked to climb trees and play with Transformers and GI Joe's instead of dolls.”

“I tell you, you could throw a left hook better than any of the guys I knew. They were just jealous. Because you were cooler than they were and I liked to hang out with you more than them. I'll stay with you okay? Keep an eye on you. Make sure you're eating and drinking and taking it easy. I already called my boss and he said to take a couple days and call him if I need more time. I'll hang around until Tyler gets here.”

“I still can't believe Nik called him,” Esme huffs. “This is the last thing he needs on his plate. He's already got enough stress with having to go New Zealand and find those kids. He doesn't need to be worrying about me too. You should have just left it alone and not told him.”

“Kid, he's your husband. There was never an option of not telling him. I think he cares more about you and this baby than he does about some fucking job. I get its kids that are involved. I get how bad that sucks and how horrible it is. I really do. But someone else can finish the job. He's not the only mercenary out there.”

“He feels he needs to finish it. That he started it and it's up to him to get them.”

“Well he's obviously changed his mind because he's on his way home.”

“For good?”

“I don't know. I didn't talk to him. Like I said, Nik called him. And apparently he flipped his shit and told her to get him on the first flight home and that's what she did. So despite what mom thinks about him, he obviously cares more about you and the baby than he does about the job. If he didn't, he wouldn't have insisted that he was coming home even after Nik assured him that things weren't that serious.”

“And you call me stubborn? Tyler is way worse than I am.”

“He's not stubborn. He loves you. There's never been a doubt of that, that's for sure. I mean, if he can put up with your shit for this long, he must love you.”

“Or he's just a glutton for punishment.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he pushes the wheelchair as close as he can to the front passenger side door of his truck, and then sits the brakes and squeezes between his vehicle and the one parked beside to open the door. “Hey!” he scolds, when she attempts to stand. “I don't think so, kid. Sit your ass down. You don't do anything unless I tell you to, understand?”

“As much as I'm sure Nik will find your assertiveness insanely hot, you're my brother and you don't get to boss me around.”

“The hell I don't. Sit.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and plops back down. “You know, you are more like dad than I realized. He was bossy too,”

“Are you like this at home?” Kyle inquires, as he pops open the door and then helps her out of the chair, hands under her arms for support. “Do you get like this when Tyler tries to help? You get all obstinate and bitchy with him too?”

“Yep. And then he gets mad and we fight and then we have angry sex and things go back to normal.”

“You know what, some things I do not need to know. And that's one of them. Can you get up in there or do you need me to put you over my shoulder and drop you in to your seat?”

“I'm not an invalid, thank you very much. I only fainted.”

“Three times. And stop lying to yourself that there's just that wrong, okay? There's something going on with either you or the baby and it needs to get sorted out. Just let people take care of you, okay? You've spent five and half years either taking care of Tyler or taking care of kids. It's your turn now.”

“Oh just what I want. Sitting on my ass while someone caters to every whim and need...wait a second...” she frowns and cocks her head to the side. “...that actually sounds kind of nice.”

“You deserve someone to wait on you hand and foot, kid. Like the princess you are.”

“Princess? I'm the motherfucking queen, K.”

He just shakes his head and shuts her door.

****

While it's good to be home, it feels strange at the same time. It's empty. Lonely. Way too quiet. Nothing more than furniture and other belongings in empty rooms. No kids running around; no shrieking, no squealing, no giggling, no near constant demands for snacks and juice. No dog barking or following her from room to room, desperate for the attention he isn't receiving (yet definitely is) from the others. No husband out working in the back yard or the garage. While all of their things are there...in the exact places they'd been left...the house and its surroundings seem foreign. As if it belongs to someone else.

“Nik said the guys checked the place,” Kyle says, as he steps out onto the back deck, carrying a bottle of beer for himself, a steaming mug of tea -decaf, as the ER doctor had suggested-, where she sits in one of the oversized Adriondack chairs, a flannel blanket pulled up to her chin, legs stretched out and feet on the wooden railing in front of her. “No sign of any trouble. Maybe those Irish guys already came to town and scared the bad guys away.”

“Or at least chased them somewhere else,” she says, and gives her brother an appreciative smile as he places her drink in the chair's cup holder.

“It's getting pretty late. You should be getting some rest.”

“It's nine thirty.”

“At night.”

“It's nine thirty,” she stresses. “I haven't gone to bed this early since before I had Millie. Before I got too huge and too uncomfortable and I couldn't sleep properly anyway. You're getting a little too naggy.”

“I'm not naggy,” he argues, as he takes a seat in the chair beside her. “I'm worried about my kid sister. And my niece or nephew. Maybe both. Maybe there's two in there again.”

“Oh God, bite your tongue. Do not wish that on me for a second time. I love my boys to the end of the earth and beyond, that was the most brutal seven and a half months of my entire life. I do not want to go through that again. I'd rather have another nine plus pounder than two at the same time. Besides...” she reaches under her blanket and pulls out the ultrasound photo she's been keeping safe in her possession. “...looks like there's one baby Rake.”

Kyle takes the picture from her, squinting his eyes in an attempt to make out any distinguishing features. “What the hell am I looking at?”

She leans sideways in her seat and begins pointing out various things that the tech had circled. Heart, spine, kidneys, both eyes, nose, and mouth. The radiologist on call had said that everything looked 'perfectly fine' and 'extremely healthy'. All parts existent and working properly, from what he could tell. “I'm a lot further than I thought,” she says to her brother. “I thought maybe two months. Three at the most.”

“And?” he asks.

“Three months, three weeks and two days.”

“Do you know the exact hours and minutes too?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don't know that's the exact time. That's what the tech said based on all the measurements and everything. That's almost four months, K. I don't understand how it can be that far ahead. Nearly four months and I never showed any signs whatsoever? I mean, I missed a period and a half of one but that's nothing. Things have always been screwed up in that respect. That's never been normal.”

“Okay, you're my sister and I do not need to know certain things. Your...cycle...or whatever...is not something I need to know. So it's a bad thing you're this far ahead, or...?”

“It's not that it's bad. It's just weird. Look, when you get married and your wife starts having babies, she will know everything that goes on in her body. And I mean everything. I thought I did know everything that my body is telling me. I mean, I've only been through this three other times, right? Oh no. This time is totally different. I thought I was just run down and stressed and worried and all that crap that comes with Tyler doing what he does. And you know what? He was the one the one who thought I was pregnant. Way before I did. You know what that means?”

Kyle frowns. “What?”

“It means he was right. And when I tell him just how far along I am and that he was right, he will hold that over my head for years. Decades. Because that's what Tyler does. Because Tyler isn't used to being right and when I have to admit he is, he makes my life hell. Well maybe not hell. But he makes it very annoying. And I am not in the mood for that kind of shit. I'm cranky and I'm hormonal and it pains me inside to know I have to admit he was right.”

Her brother laughs. “You two are perfect for each other, I swear. He practically says the same stuff about you.”

“Excuse me? He does what? Have you been talking about me?” she gives an excited gasp and sits up, then asks “ Do you have a bromance going on?”

“We talk,” Kyle admits.

“When?”

“When you don't realize it's happening. What? You need to know everything?”

“I think it's a big deal when my husband...the black sheep of this family, through no doing of his own...is having a bromance with my favourite brother. It makes my heart happy. What's wrong with that? And what do you guys talk about?”

He shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“What? Guy stuff. You know, going to the gym, cars, trucks, work shit, girl shit.”

“Girl shit? He's talking about girls with my brother?”

“He doesn't talk about girls. I talk about girls. He talks about you.”

“Oh really...” her eyes narrow. “...and what does he say? Don't hold back. You can tell me. Don't protect him.”

“Nothing bad, I swear. He has never once said anything bad about you. The total opposite, actually. Trust me when I say that after five and a half years, that guy is still wildly and crazily in love with you.”

She smiles and sips her tea. “He's lucky.”

“It's just random guy shit we talk about. I mean, every so often we'll talk about how big of a bitch mom is and how ridiculous the shit she says is. Sometimes we talk about sports. He really hates hockey by the way but I won't hold that against him. And every so often he'll talk about shit that's bothering him.”

“Really?” she's genuinely surprised. “He talks to you about that stuff?”

Kyle nods and sips his beer.

“What has he told you?”

“Esme, it's kind of personal, don't you think? If he's telling me and not you...”

“I'm not asking to be nosy and I don't expect you to betray his confidence. I'm asking because I'm worried about him. He's been having some really hard times, K. Mentally. And not just the depression and the anxiety. But with the PTSD and the brain fog and the memory issues. Have you noticed any of those things?”

“I've noticed a couple things, I guess. Nothing major. I just figured that whatever he'd been through had done a real number on him, you know? I mean, now that I know exactly what he went through, it's no wonder the guy has issues. That would fuck anyone up.”

“Has he told you about any issues? Anything specific?”

“Esme....”

“He's my husband. Kyle. And I'm worried about him. I don't know what to do for him. I don't know if he needs more therapy or if he needs different medication or if he needs both. I just want to help him.”

“I know. But right now, you're the one that needs help. I know you're used to being the mother hen and the one that babies everyone, but you've got your own shit going on, kid. You do not need to be stressing out over this. If you want me to, I can talk to him. See if he'll tell me anything else other than what he already has. But you can't be worried about this. Especially now. Not with your own stuff going on.”

“I fainted, K. That's it. I fainted.”

“There's way more than that going on and you know it. You need to take it easy and let people take care of you for a change. Stop trying to solve everyone's problems and just worry about yourself. That's why you're having issues in the first place. Because you stress yourself trying to fix everybody. Just...stop...” he reaches out and gently squeezes the back of her neck. “...stop trying to save everyone.”

“That is not what I'm trying to do. I'm worried about him, Kyle. Legitimately worried. He isn't himself and he...”

“You just said he was stressed and had a lot on his plate.”

“It goes way beyond that.”

“Is he drinking again? Back on the Oxy?”

“He was drinking but he says he's sober and staying sober. And no. He's not on Oxy again. He doesn't even like taking Tylenol. Which is a problem all in itself because he's in all this pain and he doesn't want to take anything for it.”

“And I said I would talk to him and see if he'll tell me anything else. Look, he's not coming home so you can take care of him. He's coming home to take care of you. Would you let him do that? You always have this need to take care of him, maybe he feels like he needs to do the same thing for you. So give him that, okay?”

“You promise you'll talk to him?”

“If you're that worried about him...”

“I am. And this isn't my usual worrying about stupid shit. This is serious. There is something going on up in his brain and I don't know how to help him. And I know he hates telling me things because he hates me worrying. So maybe he'll tell you instead.”

“I will talk to him,” Kyle promises her. “You've had a long day. Lots of time on a plane, the excitement at mom's, all the poking and prodding at the hospital. You need sleep. That baby's counting on you, kid. You're the only one that can keep him or her safe and sound in there. So go. Go inside and lie down and sleep. I'll be on the couch if you need me.” okay?”

“Where's Nik going to be?” she teases, as she pushes the blanket off of her and stands up, immediately feeling light headed and having to place a hand on her brother's shoulder to steady herself.

“I knew you should have been admitted,” he huffs.

“I'm fine. I just got up too quickly. Relax, dad. Jesus.”

“Don't get lippy with me. Because I will fireman carry you upstairs.”

“Is that how you're going to get Nik into bed? Seduce her with your fireman abilities?” she tousles his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek.

“How do you know she's not going to seduce me?” he counters.

“If you're going to have sex, I just ask that it's not in any of my children's beds. And stay out of Ovi's apartment. Go and do it somewhere else if you have to. I don't want to be hearing the two of you bumping uglies, okay?”

“It's only fair. I've had to hear you and Tyler before.”

“That's because Tyler was trying to teach you how to do things properly,” she teases.

“You're a smart ass, you know that.”

“I do,” she says, and then disappears into the house.

***

The traffic is terrible; hampered by a steady rain and strong winds. And he sits in the passenger seat as Yaz drives, elbow on the door, hand rubbing his chin and mouth repeatedly, both legs shaking nervously. The call from home has him on edge; brain running through all worst possible case scenarios, nerves completely shot, desperately yearning for something to take the edge of. To at least calm him enough to stop fearing the worst. The assurances from Nik that there wasn't something seriously wrong hadn't worked; she'd insisted that he didn't need to return home and that things were 'under control' and he needed to just stay where he was and concentrate on the job at hand. He'd snapped on her. Telling her to shove the job up her ass and get him a way home. Sooner. Not later. That she'd set this bullshit in motion the moment she decided that ratting him out was a good idea. Had she not done that, Esme would still be in Ireland. Not half way around the goddamn world, dealing with issues with the baby all by herself.

“You need to calm down,” Yaz says.

“You need to fuck off,” Tyler retorts.

Yaz sighs. “You won't miss the flight. The guy's waiting for you. So...”

“I fucking hate traffic.”

“Okay, I get that. But like I said, they're waiting for you...”

“I don't give a shit. I need to get home. But instead I'm stuck in this fucking bullshit,” he angrily gestures out the windshield.

“”You heard what Nik said. Everything is fine. They didn't even admit her. If there was something wrong, she would have been admitted. “

Tyler sighs, and closes his eyes; trying his best to block out his friend's voice. The last thing he fucking needs is someone trying to tell him just where his concerns should lie and where his priorities should be. There'd been no hesitation when Nik had called; he'd already been throwing clothes and other personal belongings into one of the suitcases before she even got to the part where things 'weren't that bad'. It didn't matter how goddamn bad things were; he was going home and no one was going to stop him.

“It isn't that bad,” Yaz says. “Can you stop shaking like that? It's annoying me.”

“Just fucking drive,” he responds, and shakes his legs even harder, just to be spiteful.

“Would you just calm down? What are you so freaked out about?”

“If you tell me to calm down one more time...”

“Being this worked up isn't solving anything. I'm getting you to the airport, they're not going to take off without you, Nik said that things are that bad and....”

“I don't give a fuck what Nik said. I need to get home. To my wife. I don't care if things are 'that bad' or not. She shouldn't be going through this alone.”

“Isn't her brother with her?”

“What the hell does that matter? I should be with her. And I would be if I never took this goddamn job. If that fucking asshole never showed up in Colorado.”

“Well technically, he's been after you since Guatemala, so...”

“Yaz, we don't need to get fucking technical. If we really want to get into it, none of this would be happening if your sister didnt' fuck up and hire Jason Andrews' brother. Which is who hired McMann to take me out. And if I really want to be a petty asshole, I'd say we also wouldn't be in this situation if your sister hadn't have ratted me out to my wife in the first place.”

“I get you're pissed about that, but...”

“I am more than pissed. I am so far past pissed. She should have just kept her fucking mouth shut. There was no reason she had to go to Esme. What good did it do?”

“Other than get you to knock your shit off and start getting your head on straight? She did the right thing, and if you'd calm down long enough, you'd realize that.”

“Stop fucking telling me to calm down!” he snaps. “I will knock you the fuck out, Yaz, I don't care if you're driving. I am on my last shred of sanity and my last nerve is hanging on by a thread. This all could have been avoided if your sister kept her mouth shut. If she'd minded her own business, Esme would still be here. With me. And that way if things went wrong with the baby, I'd be with her. Not thousands of miles away.”

“If you hadn't have decided to take matters into your own hands and drug and kidnap someone, it wouldn't be happening either.”

“Do I need to fucking remind you that you were on my side? That you agreed McMann deserved to suffer? That you agreed to help me? And then as soon as your sister showed up, you fucking bailed on me and threw me under the bus. That was a bitch move, Yaz. You fucking coward.”

“It was getting out of control. You were getting out of control. We've been friends a long time, Tyler. Even longer than you and Nik. I'm the one that got you into the job in the first place. And believe me, every day I want to kick myself in the ass for that. Because if I'd never done that, this wouldn't all be happening. And Dhaka never would have happened.”

“A lot of good things came out of Dhaka,” Tyler says, and can't even believe the words came out of his own mouth.

For years he's been dwelling on all of the bad things that happened in Bangladesh; Mahajan Senior screwing them over, G being killed, Gaspar betraying him, everything that took place on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, the fact that Esme had to see and hear the things she did. Even those long months in the hospital and the lingering, life altering after effects. Maybe it's the meds in his system; allowing him to think clearly and rationally instead of turning him into a zombie.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“My wife, for one. My kids. My chance at a normal life. Which I keep fucking up in the most epic ways possible.”

“It's hard. You've been doing the job for a long time. It's hard to just let it go,” Yaz reasons. “Even though you've got half a dozen reasons to walk away, you just can't. Somewhere along the long, the job stopped being something you do and you became the job.”

Tyler snorts. “Ain't that some shit.”

“You never meant for it to happen. It's not like you intentionally became that way. And it's not like you wanted to put it before your wife and your kids. You didn't even realize it was happening. It just did. No one is going to fault you for that, Tyler.”

“They don't need to. I already hate myself enough for it.”

“Esme doesn't. She's still around.”

“Until she's not one day. And I don't want that happening. I can't let that happen. You ask why I'm going home when things aren't that bad? Because that's where I fucking belong. It's where I've always belonged and I never let it happen. Home was never enough until I realized how close I was to losing it. So maybe you're not a coward, Yaz. But I am. I was a coward when I left when Austin was dying and I've been a coward for the last five and a half years.”

His head hurts. Even worse than his knee and his shoulder, for once. And he reaches into one of the pockets of his flack jacket and pulls out a bottle of prescription meds; twisting off the cap and dumping three small pills into his palm.

“Thought you took your meds today,” Yaz comments.

“You keeping tabs on me now?”

“Thought you were only supposed to take one Valium a day? What the fuck...?”

“It's ativan, dumb ass. For anxiety. I'm a little fucking anxious right now.”

“A little?”

“Don't make me hurt you, Yaz.”

He places the pills under his tongue, waiting for them to fully dissolve before reaching for a bottle of water sitting in one of the cup holders.

“Are you coming back?” Yaz asks.

“I don't know.”

“When will you know?”

“When I get home and see how bad things are. Can I get home first? Can I get to see my wife and talk to her before you start asking me these things? Fuck the job. She has to come first.”

“I get that. I do. But we're supposed to leave for New Zealand in two days.”

“So leave for New Zealand in two days. Mark and his boys will be with you. What? You need me there to hold your hand? You need me to spoon feed you and wipe your ass after you take a shit?”

Yaz smirks. “You can be a real dick.”

“If...and that's a big if right now...I come back, I'll meet up with you guys there. You don't need me there to gather up intel and find where the kids are. You just need me to get them out.”

“Exactly. We need you. You. Not some random fucking Marine that's never done shit like this before. And definitely not Mark. If anyone would fuck things right up, it's that guy. You're the one with the experience. We need you.”

“Nik can find someone else.”

“There is no one else. And you've been on this since day one. You know the history. I don't want some newbie just walking in and screwing things up. You're the only one that can do this. Properly. Don't fucking bail on me, Tyler.”

“It's what I do, Yaz. I bail on people. You don't realize that by now?”

“You didn't bail on Ovi,” he points out. “Even when you were told to.”

Tyler sighs.

“So? Are you?” Yaz presses. “Coming back?”

“I don't know,” he admits. “I honestly don't know.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character

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thewritewolf · 5 years ago

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Two Cursed Detectives in Paris Chapter 4: Ladybugs and Owls

Eerie and Marinette have some girl time, followed swiftly by some detective work with Eerie and Connor.

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Eerie watched the rain coming down hard outside, turning the City of Lights into a depressing grey. The only people out right now were those who absolutely had to be. Which meant the bakery wasn’t getting any customers and most people weren’t thinking of getting big orders of pastries delivered if they were just going to end up soaking wet by the time it reached their doorstep.

With a sigh, she stood up and went for her coat. This caught the attention of Marinette, who was leaning on the front counter in boredom.

“Where are you going, Eerie?” Marinette called after her. “Is there something wrong?”

“I’m not going to be doing any deliveries today and with your parents doing that catering gig today there isn’t much else for me to do here either.” She slipped on her coat and frowned. It didn’t have a hood and it wasn’t going to do much to keep the rain off her. “So I’m just going to head back to the hotel.”

“But your partner isn’t going to be there. You’ll just be sitting there all alone.”

Thinking back to the long university years of being an outcast, Eerie shrugged and slapped on a fake smile. “I’ll be fine, Marinette. I usually am.”

Just as her hand reached the door handle, Marinette said, “Wait! Why don’t you just hang out here for a bit? At least until the rain lets up.” Her voice became more hopeful and energetic as her confidence built up. “I could close up shop early! We could play some games, talk, all sorts of stuff while we wait!”

Eerie stared at the handle for a few long moments. It was flattering, really. Most people didn’t want anything to do with the cursed. Even those who did usually had some kind of weird curiosity about them - probing questions that made Eerie feel more like a carnival attraction than anything else.

But not Marinette. She was just so… earnest, even from the first moment that they met. When Eerie turned around her smile was smaller but more genuine.

“You know what? That actually sounds pretty nice. Let’s do it.”

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

As it turns out, Eerie wasn’t as good at games as she thought she was. Or maybe it was just that Marinette was in a league of her own. Given just how quickly she got trounced, maybe it was the second option.

“Do you want to do something else?” Being very aware of how easily she could accidentally crush the controller in her hands, Eerie gently set it on the table in front of her. “I think I’ve reached my limit for this.”

“Oh! Sure.” Marinette’s eyes settled on Eerie’s hands. “Could you do my nails like yours? They look really pretty.” Eerie looked at her hand, with the perfectly manicured red nails that came to a point. They didn’t look all that sharp, but looks could be deceiving.

“Thank you! But I can only take credit for the paint.” She flexed her fingers. “These are more talons than nails. Really tough and my hands are super strong too.”

“Is that part of your curse?”

“Mhm,” Eerie hummed. “It means that I’m the one opening pickle jars for Connor rather than the other way around.”

Marinette giggled. “You’ve mentioned him before. What’s he like? Is he… like you?”

“If by ‘like you’ you mean cursed, then yeah. Other than that we’re as different as it gets. He’s really embraced his curse, he’s messy, and he’s way too relaxed about a lot of things.”

“Do you not like your curse?” Marinette winced. “Sorry, stupid question. It’s a curse of course you wouldn’t like it.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. I guess I just… I never liked how it set me apart from people? But Connor… he revels in it. It’s just a part of who he is, same as his stubbornness and weird eating habits.” She rubbed her temples before sighing. “Still, he’s been a great partner. The first person to actually encourage me to use my curse rather than ignore it. Which can be frustrating at times, but it’s better than what I was dealing with before.”

“Me and Chat Noir are pretty different too,” Marinette said with a nod. “But I think that actually makes us better at our job. Between the two of us, there’s not much we can’t do. And, even when things are at their worst, I always know he’s in my corner. You know?”

Eerie smiled. “Yeah, I get it.”

They kept chatting as Eerie started to paint Marinette’s nails a lime green color. Slowly, she was starting to realize how much Marinette reminded her of herself at that age - before she got cursed. Driven, sweet, but very insecure about certain things. And that insecurity was plainly written on Marinette’s face as she clearly struggled with what she was about to say. Eerie simply smirked to herself as she worked, more than willing to let Marinette ask at her own pace.

“Could you… give me some advice? Boy advice?”

Eerie froze. Of all the things she had expected, that wasn’t among them. She mentally chastised herself - obviously it was going to come up after they spent all that time talking about their partners.

“Sure!” Eerie said with a false sweetness, hoping Marinette wouldn’t notice her panicking. When was the last time she had any sort of romantic relationship? Definitely before college.

“Well… there's this boy that I really like, but I can’t-” She pressed her hands against her face. “I just can’t be normal around him!”

Suddenly Eerie could very much relate, though probably not for the same reasons.

“Why don’t you tell me about him? Maybe we can figure out a plan of attack.”

Slowly, Marinette nodded. “Alright. Well… he’s a super sweet, really handsome guy.” She giggled. “You've probably seen him around, actually. His face is everywhere.”

It suddenly clicked for Eerie. The similar ages. How they were paired up as superheroes.

“You’re in love with Adrien Agreste,” Eerie blurted out, only barely refraining from adding ‘who is your partner that is constantly hitting on you.’ Besides her promise to Connor, that would only freak the poor girl out.

“Yup! That’s the one.”

For the next hour, Eerie did her best to help Marinette with her boy troubles without letting it show how much she was thinking about this critical new evidence. It was so frustrating seeing how into each other they were without realizing it.

Maybe Connor was onto something.

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

Eerie thanked the guard and waved Connor over. He settled into an easy pace beside her, slowing his gait to stay by her side. The people working there knew that there would be inspectors working on a case, but only the curator knew what they were really there for. The less people who suspected they were onto the forgery ring, the better. Although that meant they had to be a little… underhanded in how they went about getting their clues.

“Ready to take in some French culture like you wanted?” She said with a smirk.

“I was hoping more for some culture I could eat, but this is a decent second best,” he replied. His eyes roamed the empty corridors of the Louvre. Visiting hours ended hours ago and most of the lights were out. Even if they didn’t have their flashlights on them, it wouldn’t matter much. The benefits to being cursed with nocturnal animals, she supposed. “It’s pretty eerie in here, huh Eerie?”

She snorted. “And you better not forget it. We’re in my territory, raccoon boy.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” He trained his flashlight on one of the paintings. “I think these ones are clear.”

“Just like we thought then,” she said in a low whisper right next to his ear. She wasn’t sure, but she almost thought she could see a shiver run down his spine. “Let’s see if we can get to the vault and check out the pieces there.”

He cleared his throat. “You got it. Let’s stick to the dark hallways - less likely for a guard to find us.”

The route they decided to take through the massive museum was winding, all the better for staying out of view and taking in all the art pieces. After a few minutes of walking in silence, she struck up a conversation.

“Remember the bakery girl I was telling you about? Marinette?”

“The one with the big secret you found?” Connor peered into a trash can and pulled out of it in a huff when he discovered it was empty. “How could I forget?”

“Well, I found out something else. She’s got a crush.”

“Dang.” Connor frowned. “Adrien might take that hard. And after all that time I spent convincing him...”

“Don’t worry, your hard work wasn’t in vain.” Eerie nudged his arm and smirked at him. “He is her crush.”

Connor whistled. “That’s perfect.”

There was a pause between them for a few heartbeats.

“What’s the odds of them actually figuring that out and dating?”

“You’d make a lot of money betting against it, let’s say,” Eerie deadpanned. “Which is why I suggest we should get involved.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn someone made that exact same suggestion a couple days ago.” He tapped at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “If only I could remember what handsome, smart detective it was…”

“The world may never know. But for now, it’s this handsome and smart detective.” Eerie pointed at herself.

Connor chuckled. “So what changed, boss?”

“Now I know first hand that they are hopeless.” She stopped to peer around a corner. When she saw nothing, she kept talking. “Besides, I want to see them get together before we leave.”

“You’re not alone there.” He pouted at her when she caught his wrist to keep him from idly touching one of the statues. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Why do you assume that I have a plan? Can’t you come up with one?”

“The whole point of me hiring you as an intern was that I wouldn’t have to do any of that pesky big picture thinking stuff any more.”

“...You outsourced your plotting to me?”

Connor shrugged. “It’s worked so far! Your plans are pretty great.”

“Thanks.” Eerie ignored the way her heart fluttered at the compliment and focused on the task at hand. “I mean… we could try to set them up on a date, I guess?”

“I dunno. Those two are pretty dense. What if they think of that as just something friends do?”

“We could chaperone. Make sure things stay suitably romantic.”

“That might throw off the feel of the date, though.”

“We could chaperone from a distance. Close enough to put things on the right track if it comes it that, but far enough away that they won’t notice us.”

“I get the feeling that them noticing us won’t be a problem. Once they’re together, all they’ll be able to do is make heart eyes at each other.”

A reply died in Eerie’s throat when they wandered into a brighter section of the museum and an employee bumped into Connor in the halls.

The man glared at both of them and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like ‘rude, nosy Americans’ to her. She looked back to Connor to see him sticking his tongue out at the man’s retreating back.

“We’re almost to the vault. Think you’ll be able to get us in?”

“Maybe we won’t need to,” Connor replied, thumbing through an unfamiliar wallet.

“Did you-?”

“Sorry, boss. I didn’t mean to take it, but in my defense, if he didn’t want his wallet palmed, he should have taken more care about where he was going. Besides,” he said as he pulled out a red business card. “I get the feeling that guy is guilty of more than just being a rude dude.”

Eerie took the card, her look of curiosity turning into a predatory smile as she recognized the pen name of the forger. That at least proves the forger is here. She grabbed Connor’s hand and pulled him along, excited to be on the trail again.

“C’mon, boss,” Eerie said, the thrill of the hunt making her heart pound. “One calling card isn’t enough to nail this guy to the wall.”

Behind her, she was oblivious to the way Connor’s face reddened at the hand to hand contact.

#Chouette Fanfic #Miraculous Ladybug #Connor MacThomas #Eerie Escamilla #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #ml fanfiction #my writing #Two Cursed Detectives in Paris

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izzy-b-hands · 5 years ago

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Running Away

Another bit of Modern AU, inspired by my own love of night drives that I haven’t gotten to take with anyone in years and miss desperately.

Made a playlist for this one, a combo of what I was listening to while writing as well as music that I think would fit in their playlist for one of these drives: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Zk6fxk6XUJiaejoIhJ54d?si=pVdaxoX3SSSc0LN1enTTpQ

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

Most nights it’s unspoken, save for a few words.

“Your car?”

“Sure. Snacks?”

“Got ‘em. Water?”

“Got it. Ready?”

“Yeah.”

They save it for nights when neither of them work, and when neither of them work the next day, so they don’t have to worry about a time crunch. That would ruin the flow of it completely.

It feels liquid and velvet (black with the smallest but shiniest rhinestones, just like the night sky), windows down so the cool summer air can flood the car, and it’s almost too cold but the goosebumps and shivers feel good, and make the hoodie he wears all the more comfortable.

He watches Eugene do the same, snuggling into the sweater he wears, one he stole from Snafu back when they first started dating. He’ll never ask for it back, but he wears it whenever Eugene has to travel for school or work, soaking in the scent of Eugene to tide him over till his boy is back home and in his arms.

Any music on is kept low, their playlists full of songs that don’t play so much as ooze, drift, slide from one into the other with beats that sit perfectly in the background, good to listen to but not intrusive on any conversation they might spark up.

A lot of times, there isn’t any, and that’s okay. Just the sound of the highway and the wind and everything they pass by. He focuses on the sounds and the odd and occasionally not so great scents that are all a part of the drives. It’s all sensations and feeling and nothing of what they both know awaits them back at home.

The worries. The fears. The responsibilities, big and small. The bills. The phone calls to make that neither of them want to make, but that they cheer-lead each other through. The sense of being trapped, because they can’t afford to move out of the city even though moving elsewhere and getting a small house or condo would be less of a waste of money than dropping it monthly on rent on the apartment, and how can they try and save for the wedding like this or put anything more than the few dollars they try to shove in savings each pay period and-

No. Stop. Not right now, not tonight. Tonight is about the velvet sky he swears he can feel under his fingertips just by looking at it as they go on down the highway, about the cookies Eugene baked earlier this week (sugar, “sweet like you” he told Snafu, and his lips tasted just like it, from his taste tests to ensure they were up to his personal par as a baker, “because I don’t feed my man bad cookies.”) sat in between them balanced on the cup-holders in a container Eugene’s mother had given them for their apartment-warming, about how free it feels to be out there so late at night and nobody knows who they are or where they are or why they are and who thought not having any answers or needing to answer to anybody would feel so good even if it’s only temporary.

And when they finally pull over for a quick break, at a truck stop with a bathroom that’s decently clean and a vending machine so they can get another few bottles of water because they never bring big enough reusable ones from home, they linger.

On the hood of the car, a blanket spread out over it, watching the stars together, knowing the second a cop pulls up (and one always does) they’ll have to tear it all down and get back on the road, answering ‘no trouble sir, just enjoying the night sir, yes we know the time sir, yes of course we’ll be on our way sir, of course we know that bad things can happen at night sir, we didn’t mean any harm sir,’ and it burns Snafu up to have to cater to some kid in a uniform that doesn’t fit him, who doesn’t know what real ‘trouble’ and trauma look like and wouldn’t be able to stomach it if he did, and if he did know he’d understand that sometimes the only cure for it is a taste of freedom and night air and your lover’s hand in yours while he points out the brightest stars that he likes the best, even though you both know there might be even more beautiful ones just hidden by the pollution of the nearby city lights, but it doesn’t matter because you can see the ones he points to and you tell him how if you could you’d buy him that star and when you both die that’s where you’ll go, to wait out the end of the universe together, all energy and left over soul burning in the coldness of space.

But being back on the road isn’t so bad, because another truck stop eventually presents itself and they can try again, and sometimes there’s enough time for Eugene to fall asleep against him, his nose cold against Snafu’s chest as he snuggles close, his fingers frozen so Snafu wraps them in his hands, pulls them under his hoodie to warm them, shivering at the touch more than the cold.

They take turns the rest of the night, pulling over as needed to swap seats, until the cookies and water are gone and they have to finally sit down and calculate where they are and if they can just turn around and head straight back or if they’ve taken enough random off and on ramps that they need to actually pay attention to how they get home.

If they’re particularly lucky, they can find a proper truck stop with all the amenities, a restaurant and gas station with a huge lot where trucks and cars are parked full of sleeping truckers and even some families in their campers that they never really know how to park decently.

But Snafu can forgive those people that, because it hardly matters those nights, because those are the nights they don’t drive home that early morning. Instead they put up the sun covers on the front windshield, make sure the doors are locked, and take the other extra blanket with them in the backseat that they’ve pushed down so there’s room to lay out and cuddle. The waking is always an extra rough sort of groggy, but it’s never a grumpy one, just the moment of remembering that they’re somewhere that’s nowhere to them, just another place to stop and rest, the name of which they’ll forget until they drive out another night and find it again.

If they can, they call in sick for the day after that. They don’t need the time to drive back, that they can do in the night, but it gives them just a little bit more time to extend the feeling of Free and Happy and Unconcerned With Everything and Anything, even once they’re back in their apartment and the Usual Bullshit starts to creep back into their minds, on claws that clack and keep them up at night.

But the extra day can keep it away for just a little longer, and he can hang onto that feeling when they’re back at their jobs, in the depths of the routine and boring and stable but unsatisfying.

It gets him by until the next drive, the next set of sweets (his turn this time, he wants to make beignets, though he’ll have to go careful on the powdered sugar, or bring them extra napkins and a change of clothes just in case), the next rush of cool night air and stars that in his mind he’s bought for Eugene already, and they shine just to make his boy smile, though that smile outshines them by miles.

And maybe this time they’ll remember the extra big water thermoses and bottles, bring a couple even.

Maybe this time they’ll be driving away for good, with all their shit packed up and the cat in her carrier in the backseat, on to somewhere new and beautiful that only knows them as a bunch of nobodies, that doesn’t care who they are or what they do, just lets them live.

They can only hope for that, someday.

Until then, he can work and bake and prepare for the next drive and buy a black velvet blanket as another extra for the backseat, so they can keep the night sky with them even while they sleep.

#text posts #LeeH writes #Sledgefu

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caps-lockdown · 5 years ago

Text

32 Days Later

32 Days Later (One shot)

Enjoy this piece of October Fluff! It’s my first real attempt at writing from Steve’s perspective, so sorry if it isn’t amazing. I also wrote this at four am after being up since twelve p.m the prior day.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Rating: PG (All fluff!)

Words: 2,245

Summary: It took exactly 32 days for Steve Rogers to fall for you.

No beta, only own mistakes and the reader. Again this is Y/N format but it is also from Steve’s point of view. Well sort of anyway. I TRIED PEOPLE.

Also if you’d like to be tagged for future fics just send a quick message, ask or comment!

32 Days Later

You were trouble. That’s what Fury said.

October first came in a blink and Steve Rogers walked out of his room ready for his morning run to find you in your pair of skeleton pajamas. Your feet tapped barefoot against the hardwood floor of the kitchen as you sipped from a giant bat shaped mug. No doubt you had been waiting to pull it out, and by the smells of it you had just made a batch of Nutella hot chocolate. It was seven in the morning.

“No time to sleep when it’s October!” You had exclaimed gleefully, sitting on the couch in the joining room and proceeding to fold yourself into multiple layers of blankets. Steve rolled his eyes as the start of some horror movie began, shaking his head as he stepped outside. You’d only joined the team five months ago, per Fury’s orders and Tony’s headache. Sure, everyone fell in love with you within the first month. Well everyone except Steve of course. Keep your friends close and all that. He couldn’t peg you. Usually he was a good judge of character, but he was continually finding himself plagued by not being able to figure you out. He wasn’t an idiot though. He knew how great you were in the field. How you rivaled Nat’s marksmanship and Tony’s sarcasm. He knew that Bucky and Sam protected you like you were their adopted little sister. Hell he even knew Thor took to calling you “The small and mighty Y/N”. And just like now he knew you had been looking forward to this particular month, as you had mentioned it precisely eighty-six times during the course of this week.

He knew you were trouble. He just didn’t know what kind yet.

On October third you asked him what day it was.

“It’s October Third.” He replied back simply, your giggling fit ringing in his ears as everyone else joined in. He quickly learned that it was a movie reference, having being forced to watch said movie that same evening. He came to understand why you always shouted “She doesn’t even go here!” when you found something out of place, and why everyone (including Bucky to his shock) were wearing pink articles of clothing as the film played.

The wink you sent him from across the living room made his face heat up.

He distinctly recalls the night of October seventh when you nearly begged to get him to accompany you to a new horror movie playing at the theater downtown. “Tony and Pepper are going and I don’t want to be a third wheel!” You whined, “I need big strong arms to hug when I get scared!” You pleaded. “I’ll make you snickerdoodles for a week!”

He didn’t have the faintest idea what was happening amongst the bloodshed and screaming victims being mutilated, but he would never forget your floral scent of perfume taking over his senses. How your hands felt on his skin as you clung on for dear life to his arm and attempted to hide just a sliver of your face in his shoulder. The snickerdoodles were delivered outside his room for seven days straight after that, always wrapped and his name written in beautiful, careful script.

“Come on man, it’s just a pumpkin! It isn’t going to bite cha!”

Steve stared in discontent at the large orange gourd in front of him on October thirteenth. The team decided it would be in their best interest to carve faces and designs on them. Team Building. Tony called it. Festive you called it. Disgusting chaos would have been his chosen words. The tarp covering the floor was no match for everyone’s hacking carnage, Sam’s complaint of splattered pumpkin guts on the wall in the kitchen causing everyone to roll their eyes. You said you’d get Parker to clean it up. Everyone laughed at your perfect humor. Again.

Steve was never much for gawking or ogling, but watching you put your “carving skills” (he had no idea those were actual skills) on your own vegetable, fruit, whatever you had called it, made him worry about ever making you angry. You were so calm while you worked, blades shaving off top layers and poking holes in artistic ways. Your fingers were lighter than air the entire time, yet he was growing more and more afraid for his personal safety. And his progressively growing attraction to you. It was only when you were nearly done painting yours in glow in the dark paint that he came to the realization that he hadn’t carved a single feature into his own. He worked haphazardly in a frenzy after that, almost losing a finger in his rush to complete it. Maybe you wouldn’t put together that he had spent his entire evening watching you. He had to hope right? The poor thing came out looking so uneven and lopsided he almost wanted to accidentally push it out of a nearby window to put it out of its misery.

“I think it looks wonderful Steve.” You cooed, his blood pressure rising as you went to place your masterpiece in between his and Sam’s puking pumpkin. Yours was an extremely well done adaptation of “Starry Night”, carved and painted with such precision Steve didn’t know if you were real for five whole seconds. Bucky said you put his art to shame. He had to agree, thrown off for just a millisecond when you brought him down into a strong and grateful hug.

“I know you didn’t want to be here. Thank you.” All he could do is make a small “Sure” as you parted ways, watching you and Nat link arms as you headed back into the Compound. He was too busy in his own thoughts when Sam gave him a long look. His mind was occupied with how your breath had felt against his neck when you hugged him, and the way you said his name.

You were definitely trouble.

October twenty fifth was the annual Stark Industries “Trunk or Treat”. It was a wonderful night filled with young children dressed as the Avengers and various other things, visiting trunks of employees and Stark himself to get their yearly candy. Thor and Bruce along with other security stood watch, while Nat and Clint passed out candy as Elsa and Kristoff from Frozen. Bucky and Sam were Ghostbusters, your head nearly exploding when the former and Steve both had said they’d never seen it. You had demanded Sam and Tony’s “Movie Buff” cards, mumbling something about “failing this city.” Whatever that meant.

And what was he doing this fair and crisp autumn night? He could ask himself the same thing, reaching to tug at the itchy orange ascot that clung to his neck tightly. The bell bottoms were a bit tight, the sweater vest threatening to pop at the seams at his wide shoulders. Your ex boyfriend had told you to keep it when he broke your heart right after you joined the team. It had been your dream to go as Daphne Blake and Fred Jones, certain you’d clean house at costume parties with your previous beau. That was until Fury got you the job and the jerk you had been dating for nearly three years told you he couldn’t deal with you making more than him and being stronger than him. Steve leapt, dived at the chance when you asked for his help, agreeing without knowing much about the Scooby Gang. You fixed that too, staying up til three in the morning with him the day of the event watching reruns of the famous cartoon. He pretty much had your laughter locked in his memory now, the way your hair moved when you threw your head back when Shaggy made another absurd food concoction. Your ex was a fool. How lucky this guy had been to have you in the first place, only to mess it up royally later. It made his blood boil how much of your time he had wasted in the past. Steve would never treat you like he had, you deserved so much more than that. He admired you for your opinions and strength, how you could shut him up with cold hard facts when you got into heated debates. What a fool he was to lose you. You kept telling everyone you were better off, but he heard the crying on the other side of his room wall. Late at night. When you didn’t think anyone was awake to pity you.

So he helped you pass out candy from the back of your cousin’s panel van, the happy children scurrying off with their candy as he had to remind himself not to move to quickly lest his costume rip in a non-flattering way.

He asked you to Tony’s Halloween party that very night, saying he would get a bigger costume. You asked if it was a date to which he sheepishly confirmed. Your smile nothing short of blinding him, the kiss you placed on his cheek burning into his skin when you accepted. He was branded by you, instantly craving your attention and affection and conceding he would stop at nothing to earn it. He was a goner.

Halloween night came, you spending all day in a hurried disheveled mess as you baked countless treats for the party guests. Tony had insisted that the event could be completely catered but you were having none of it, busying yourself and not accepting any help. How you managed to pull it off in such a time crunch was beyond him, and he felt a certain sense of pride as you received dozens of compliments during the evening, your arm interlaced with his.

“I knew you could do it Doll, my ma would have killed for your recipes.”

“She brought you into this world Steve,” you beamed at him as you adjusted your own scratchy ascot, “She wouldn’t even have had to ask.”

The two of you won the contest, coming in second was Thor and Bruce’s in their absolutely wretched attempt at going as each other. He was addicted to your laughter about the whole ordeal though, Bruce’s wig specifically causing a riot throughout the night with everyone. Thor said he was flattered none the less. After the party he helped you back to your room, your inebriated nature meaning you needed assistance. You swore and stumbled out of your clothes on the way down the hall, the scene endearing to say the least. Steve could only shake his head, picking up your heels (torture devices you called them), purple thigh high stockings, red wig (and wig cap) as you went, tipsy and carefree.

“Does this mean we’re a couple now?” You asked, shoving your room door open with comical effort. “Cause we won the couple…couple contest. It’s only fair.”

“Sure sweetheart, I think I’d like that. But I would prefer to hear you say you’d like that when you’re sober, alright?”

“But I asked you already…” You looked so confused and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you senseless. Make you see how completely smitten he already was with you. But he just repeated himself and smiled.

You asked him to stay which he politely declined, only to be smacked in the face with a lime green ascot in response to his quest to remain respectful. All you had to do to win him over was give him a sad look, batting your eyes up at him and making all of his resolve cave. He stripped down to his white tank top and boxer briefs while you got comfortable under the sheets.

“You can sleep on top of the covers. Buck said you super soldiers run hot.”

He smiled while snuggling into you, hoping you wouldn’t pick up on his racing heartbeat when you shifted your weight, leaning your head back against his chest. “Why’s that Y/N? Afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself?”

“No,” You mumbled, already half asleep when his arm came around you. “I’m one-hundred percent sure I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself.” He stiffened slightly, hearing you chuckle cheekily before falling into an easy slumber. He’d get even in the morning he decided.

November first came in a blink, Steve stretching at the first sign of sunrise. The bed was empty. Your bed was empty. He could faintly hear noise coming from the kitchen, throwing on his pants from the night prior and shutting the door behind him. The dark and sinister decorations were gone, replaced with bright and incredibly gaudy holiday lights and décor. He didn’t know they had twelve nutcracker statues, each eerily looking a lot like their real life Avenger counterparts. He chuckled at the sight of you, braid a mess and green and red striped pajamas covering you. His heart caught in his throat when you turned from the counter to face him, your beauty always managing to make his heart stop momentarily. Your feet padded across the floor as you sipped from your obnoxiously large ceramic mug shaped like a reindeer.

Your kiss tasted of peppermint mocha, the world drowned out as he returned it tenfold, tugging you close and spilling a hint of coffee onto his tank top.

“We’re so a couple Rogers,” You grinned after breaking away slightly, “So buckle up.”

You were trouble. But he definitely didn’t mind.

The end.

Tag List: @kaytizzle @cuffski @giggleberts @pies-wands-and-more @zombiepotterfour @chrisevansfanfic @patzammit

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #captain america fanfiction #captain america #marvel fanfiction #marvel

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rowecommaadam · 4 years ago

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Terran Trade Authority Interview

Okay, this big text-heavy post isn’t from me. You can find it online over at this website. It’s a great interview with Stewart Cowley, author of the Terran Trade Authority sci-fi art book series from 1978-1980.

I’m just reposting this as kind of a backup. Cowley doesn’t have many interviews out there, but his candid thoughts are the best secondary materials out there on the TTA. There’s no reason why the original site would go away (and honestly no reason why this tumblr post won’t be erased either!), but a few redundancies can’t hurt. The rest of this post is in the voice of the original interviewer, Philip Banks:

Some time back I got a very pleasant surprise in the form of an email from Stewart Cowley himself. In fact it was something of a shock for me - it simply wasn't something I expected to get despite having had contact from the other Stewart Cowley who is also writing books. Not only that but he supplied a lot of information on the hows and whys of the books. Accordingly, with his permission, I've taken the emails he sent me and edited them into an interview of sorts. I hope fellow TTA fans find it as interesting to read as I did.

Without further ado, here is Stewart himself...

(Stewart Cowley) Someone mentioned your site to me so I checked it out. It brought back a host of memories. Spacecraft 2000-2100AD was the first book I ever wrote and represented a major point of change in my life. I was working as a graphic designer when I had the idea. I was doing work with an illustration agency called Young Artists based in London UK. They happened to represent a new generation of brilliant artists working in the SF arena, and I was really excited about their work. The only outlet for their illustrations at the time were paperback covers, but I felt convinced more could be done with the amazing images they were producing.

I persuaded them to loan me file transparencies of art samples and had them stuck on my lightbox for a couple of weeks. I'd look at them every day, trying to think how they could be utilised. Then one day I remembered a book I'd had seen as a child. It was Jane's Fighting Ships - a survey of the world's navies - and it hit me. Spacecraft 2000-2100 AD was born. Being a designer rather than a writer, I tried to find someone to author the project but couldn't find anyone with the same vision as I had. I wanted someone who could not only create specifications for the spacecraft shown, but set them in a believeable historic context.

I had already discussed the project with Hamlyn Publishing who wanted to do it and issued a contract. As I was running out of time, I started writing it myself and sent sample text to them to keep them quiet to buy time until I could find a suitable author. They liked it, so I thought, what the hell, and finished it. The rest is history as they say.

(Philip Banks) That actually answers a question I was going to ask , which was whether Janes Fighting Ships was an inspiration for the first book particularly.

(SC) The book went on to sell 800,000 copies in eight languages so they asked me to do a sequel. Space Battles was produced in 3 weeks and as you rightly point out in your review, suffered in quality as a result. That also did well, nevertheless, and they commissioned a further title. The strong sales of both books gave me more clout and I was able to insist on having more time to complete the following two titles; Spacewreck and Starliners.

I'm afraid I must also own up to the Galactic Encounters series by Steven Caldwell. I'm not proud of those six books. I was approached by another publisher to write for them, and they offered me enough money for me to quit my job as a designer and become a full-time writer. I confess that I just did it for the dough and all I had to work with were the images that I had rejected for my earlier books. It wasn't only for contractual reasons that I used the pseudonym of Steven Caldwell. So that's the story behind the TTA in a nutshell.

Incidentally, there isn't a combo of the second two TTA titles as far as I'm aware.

(PB) What was the idea behind the combo books? Simply a way for the publisher to re-use material and get more sales or was it a way to do a reprint of the first two books when the later two came out?

(SC) The combo was the publisher's response to requests from their customers who apparently felt there was a demand for it.

(PB) You mentioned pretty much authoring the series entirely yourself - how did Charles Herridge, co-author on Great Space Battles, fit into the picture?

(SC) Charles was the publisher who commissioned the books from me. Because of the almost impossible deadline he contributed some of the storylines and worked closely with me on others so I felt he should share the writing credit.

(PB) Whose idea was the 'Space Warriors' book? It seems to have been the idea of the TTA Books stripped down and targeted at nine to twelve year old readers, so was it a publisher request?

(SC) The request for a title for younger readers came from a publisher (Deans, I think). I was still living in the world of TTA and decided to keep the context for the stories in this title.

(PB) Is this the only direct spin off book from the TTA series?

(SC) Yes, as far as I'm aware. However, there may have been references to the TTA in the Galactic Encounter series, but I haven't looked these for about 25 years so might be wrong.

(PB) It has to be asked, what was the story behind the 'pasta master' modelmaking running joke?

(SC) I'd forgotten about this but it was a nickname I earned at that time because as my friends constantly reminded me it was the only thing I could cook. In order to try and interest some interest in my limited catering, I used to build exotic constructions out of pasta shells, giant clams, alien heads etc.,and stuck together with melted cheese to hide the unchanging sauces beneath.

(PB) Did any of the artists featured in the books thank you for promoting their work via these books? Do any keep in contact with you?

(SC) Yes. After the success of the first book, some of them got more involved and I worked with them on the selections. One or two had not done a lot of work before and the exposure in the books got them more work. I did stay in contact with one or two, like Chris Foss who went on to great things, but the currents of life eventually took us different ways.

(PB) Where you aware that the TTA books were a big influence on the two Homeworld games made by Relic?

(SC) Not at all. I didn't even know about them. If that's true, it's nice to know that the books meant something to some people. Most writers don't really get much in the way of feedback on their work and positive responses mean a lot.

(PB) Which is your favourite book of the series and why?

(SC) The first one was a milestone because it helped to change my life and created lots of opportunities for me. As a book, though, Spacewreck is my personal favourite. Space itself is a mysterious place and I loved the idea of astro-archaeology - starting with a mysterious artefact and working back to try and unravel it's story. Even if it is fiction, the process embodies the same sense of curiosity and a sense of the truly alien.

(PB) Was it a surprise to find a website out there dedicated to your books? Indeed are you surprised at how popular these books have turned out to be?

(SC) A complete surprise! Especially after so many years. When I wrote these, I don't remember there even being a world wide web available to people!

I want to thank Stewart for taking the time to answer these questions in such a candid fashion. Not only were the answers informative but it has solved a long standing mystery as readers of the TTA pages had been emailing me for some time about the Galatic Encounters series being very similar to the TTA books.

#terran trade authority #Stewart Cowley #interview #text

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cupidmarwani-archive · 5 years ago

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Summary: Sarah didn’t know she was going to get married, but now she has a wife from a bitter country and a palace that no longer feels so friendly as her coronation approaches.

Warnings: Smut, Mild Violence, Implied Past Abuse

(1/13)

Sarah finds out about it exactly six days, three hours, nine minutes, and thirty seven seconds ahead of time. She’s just enjoying her breakfast and looking over an unusually busy schedule for the day when her father clears his throat across the table.

“I’m dying,” he tells her.

“I’m aware.”

“You need to get married before you ascend to the throne.”

That part she doesn’t even deign to respond to. They’ve argued about this since she was old enough to conceptualize marriage. Some arrogant, irritating man with a heart of greed and a mildly favorable position in another court will be chosen for her. They’ll marry. They’ll have kids whether she wants them or not, as she was so unkindly told when she bled for the first time and cried to one of the maids because she thought she was dying.

“Sarah.”

“Father.”

“I’ve arranged for your nuptials.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“You’ll be married on Sunday.”

“No.”

She stabs a bite of her omelette rather viciously with a fork, and after a long moment of consideration, doesn’t bother to eat it. The conversation has sent her stomach rattling with butterflies, and for all she’s worth, she can’t shake a mixture of nausea and terror at the mere thought of a wedding, let alone one orchestrated by her father. She knows what sort of man he is. What he did to his first wife. Her mother. His third wife. His string of mistresses, here and there. Who’s to say the husband he has chosen for her will not be the same?

The first thing on her schedule is a dress fitting. She assumed it would be another for her coronation dress, the royal colors stitched together in the finest silks from kingdoms abroad and perfectly tailored to her, held for now by safety pins on the back because eventually, she will be hand-stitched into it by Natalie’s careful and gifted fingers. Natalie’s mother before her made Sarah’s mother’s wedding dress and all her ceremonial gowns. The gift, the talent was passed from mother to child. Sarah doesn’t know much about her own mother outside what’s on the photos lining walls and newspaper clippings that spoke of a great and noble woman from the court.

But this will be a wedding dress, and when she walks into the fitting chamber, Natalie has a spread of fabrics draped across the tables pushed against each wall. Some are a crisper white, others tinted a pale snowing blue, others falling toward a tawny cream. Fabric choices for the dress. Natalie herself sits on a stool finishing up a sketch.

“This is all we’ll be working on this week, the coronation dress is going to have to be on hold,” Natalie says. She sounds a little panicked. “I’ve narrowed it down to three designs already, and then we’ll choose a fabric and I’ll make a quick muslin to make sure you like it.”

“Did you know?”

Her lips pull into a sympathetic frown. “I just found out an hour ago. I’m sorry, Sarah.”

“Just show me the designs.”

The three thumbnails are all on the same page. One is mermaid style, Sarah recognizes that much. The next has a straight, but not form-fitting or puffy skirt that seems to be more conservative and catered to what her father would want her to wear. And there’s one with long sleeves and a mildly flared skirt, drawn with a slit up the center that reveals what appear to be pants as opposed to the plainly exposed feeling that skirts often leave her with. And it reminds her of something her mother would wear when walking among the people in old reports.

“I like this one.”

“I thought you would.” Natalie turns to a new page and marks it with her pencil before standing up and reaching for the thin muslin to get a thought on shaping. Tighter on the bodice, flaring at the waist. The pants look in the sketch to be more like leggings, or tights, so that’s something that will probably be a separate piece from the rest. Sarah’s not certain, she doesn’t know much about clothes. “Arms out.”

The fabric wraps around her waist and cinches tight before being fit with pins to make sure it’s proper. Sarah can’t breathe, but it’ll be slightly better once she doesn’t have this gown in between. Another of Natalie’s creations. She’ll likely be stuffed into a corset, too, and that’ll come into play during fittings later on. An assistant comes in to start pinning long sleeves. Another starts on her skirt. There isn’t time to leave this to just Natalie, no matter her talent, because they’ve been given less than a week’s notice about what will become of her.

“Warm, cool, or neutral white?”

“What will the groom be wearing?”

“Something traditional from his country, probably.” Natalie loosens the fabric right beneath her shoulder blades. “Rumor has it he’s from Jenia, so we’re expecting red.”

“Fertility and passion.”

“Something like that.”

Sarah hums and decides she wants a cool toned white. Maybe even a pale blue or mint, a subtle expression of her displeasure at this whole affair. Marriage. She’d rather die, if she had any idea what would happen to the kingdom in her absence. Any other successor her father could think of naming would destroy them.

“I want something green. Dark, actually. Think forest.”

“The king-”

“Isn’t getting married,” Sarah says firmly. “If I have to do this, I’ll do it my way, and I’m not going to wear white. He should be happy I don’t dress for mourning.”

“I’ll send someone for fabric.”

Natalie comes around to her front and pins the muslin around her chest before taking her pen and marking out a seam allowance and a line to throw a gathering stitch to better accentuate her body. It’s just for this awful wedding.

“I’ll have the muslin and final sketch done by dinner, if you want to come by this evening to look over everything before I start the real thing. And I’ll have fabric by then, too.”

“Yeah.”

She spends the next half hour getting fitted before she’s off, leaving a kiss to Natalie’s cheek and a handful of bills in her palm to make up the difference between a meager seamstress’ salary and the expenses of a single mother trying to do right by her young son. There had been a time it was refused, but now, Natalie knows that Sarah won’t take no for an answer, and this is worth it. Owen is a happy kid in daycare, much more so than perpetually playing by himself in a pen or crib at the corner of the room. It’s good for both of them.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Natalie smiles one last time as Sarah steps out and there’s a guard at her side to accompany her into town. Some fountain she’s dedicating in her last few weeks as a figurehead before someone else has to take her place. Freedom, fresh air, might help her with this stifled feeling rising in her chest and making her want to scream for any kind of release from this. At least it’s Ethan. He’s nice to her, makes her feel safe no matter what. And he’s polite to her, really, unlike some of the others. He doesn’t make comments about the way she looks, and he keeps a respectful touch when he must make contact. Gloved hand on her inner elbow to escort her, endlessly gentle when he pushes her behind him in a moment of danger. She trusts him.

“Apparently I’m getting married.”

“I’ve heard. Your father made the official announcement broadcast this morning. Apparently invitations were sent out a month ago.”

He waited so long to tell her. Sarah fucking hates her father and his underhanded manipulation to force her into what he wants. It’s too late to back out, however, and so she has to go along with it as much as possible. Once she’s queen, she’ll be able to find some way out of it.

“Your betrothed arrives on Friday night,” Ethan says, helping Sarah step up into the car. “I’m supposed to go to Jenia in the morning as part of the escort. A gesture of goodwill, I suppose.”

“You’ll be gone for all the planning? I can’t do this on my own, I-”

“You’ll be just fine, your highness.”

He shuts her door and comes around to the other side, slipping in just before the engine purrs to life and they’re off to the new fountain. Say some pre-prepared speech that someone else wrote for her about what it means for the country and the people. Cut a ribbon. Take a few photos. Kiss a baby. She hates the meaningless press jobs like this, but someone has to do them, and right now, that’s her. She’s been trained since birth to rule, but her control freak father won’t give her the slightest bit of influence. She’s just a pretty face for PR.

And as she winds up standing in bright sunlight, overheating in heavy fabric and reading off a fucking prompter for the cameras, she wishes that she could leave all this behind and be an actual ruler. Take care of her people instead of waste her time on all this petty shit.

By the time she gets home, she’s exhausted and her cheeks ache from false smiles, but she still has hours of responsibilities to fulfill.

@bipeteypie @one-chicago-hell @bookreader525 @sarahreeese @sextonsharpwinhalstead @isthiswhatshameis @jorgerules

#reesker #chicago med #sarah reese #ethan choi #mine #hlo!fic #fic

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