#she has hired someone else though who left without notice so

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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[85-rend]

hi it’s me, the person who thinks completely normal thoughts about lethal company. Anyway if you have employee oc’s, what is there role in actual moon looting, and how do they treat eachother in the ship. Also do they have a fave piece of loot and least fave monster?

I have 4 employees, a whole crew, so this might get a bit long :)

Fifty-Six :

"Human" (absolutely not)

Ship captain! has the most experience of the whole crew (they've been here way longer than anyone else. longer than anyone could survive this job)

Maybe a little too happy about the job. takes it very seriously

Prefers to go alone hates taking equipment bc it takes up space they could use for something else

prides itself on efficiency . has everything down to a system

looks scary but they're actually pretty nice and soft (both figuratively and literally)

pretty secretive, mostly lying through omission . doesn't like to talk about themself

doesnt like to be seen without the suit and helmet on. it has to happen eventually but it hates it, raises too many questions. it can try to look more human but its not perfect.

has a tier list in its head of every single piece of scrap for deciding priority of what to take back to the ship. it has a second tier list for if it gets hungry

huge soft spot for cute things. likes rubber ducks and plushies and things like that . will make exceptions in it's efficiency and priorities to take them even if they're low worth

Feels like they need to be doing something with their hands constantly

really likes Zachary, they're very close. doesn't want anything to happen to it... will agree to go together with Zachary despite usually preferring to go alone

likes Elliot, she's alright, she works hard. thinks she's a bit too reckless and hard on herself

alright with Morgan. they don't entirely get along but it's not too bad so it's alright . he notices the weird looks Morgan gives him, no clue what that's about.

Zachary :

Masked picked up from Rend after it tried to hide in a ship and the autopilot left

got "hired" by The Company. it doesn't like this. but it doesn't have a choice

it promises promises PROMISES it won't infect its coworkers. but it wants to so bad. it wants to help them. but it won't.

TERRIFIED of The Company building. absolutely refuses to leave the ship there. Fifty let's this slide, it doesn't mind having to carry some extra scrap to the desk

absolutely refuses to wear the helmets, its uncomfortable and its worried it'll get scratched or something . its fine without it,if that was going to hurt them it would've a long time ago

needs to go with someone in the facilities, becomes very distressed if alone for too long

it'll take equipment if asked, but it often forgets to use things like walkie talkies. it also struggles using it (it has a hard time with the buttons and small things like keys are really hard for it to hold)

hates this job and wants to leave but its scared of what would happen

very touch starved and having no other maskeds around has been effecting it.. (if it does see other maskeds on the moons it'll follow them around instead of its crew)

it wants to be closer with the others, at least El and Morgan are cautious around it. they dont really trust it much

El trusts it more at least, if 56 cant go with it it'll usually goes with her instead (also because Morgan usually stays in the ship but if they do go in still Zachary will more likely go with Elliot)

Morgan doesn't trust it much, they've dealt with maskeds before

Fifty-Six on the other hand, Zachary REALLY likes him. he doesn't mind it being around and hes nice to it

Zachary is like the first of the crew to have seen 56 without his helmet after it found him with it like completely torn apart. it was really worried about him, scared it got hurt. 56 was alright though dont worry

Elliot :

ACTUALLY a human

mostly goes by El instead of Elliot

youngest of the crew, not much experience but good with a shovel

pretty confident going in the facility, will often lead or even go alone. but absolutely CANNOT deal with coil-heads or nutcrackers. all that confidence goes away when they have to

he has automatonophobia and scopophobia. terrible combination to have here if im being honest

helmet is slightly dented after she tried running from a thumper and slammed into a metal pipe (did get away from it, shes still alive obviously . but that did hurt)

his nose was like broken before, never healed the same so its kinda crooked (this was before being at The Company, probably from getting in a fight as a teenager)

he tends to be kind of hard on himself, very apologetic when he makes any sort of mistakes.

his hair feels like shit. its been like bleached to hell so its all brittle and shit

none of the crew have anything against El but they did agree that if anything happens shes dies first (they have not agreed on what "anything happens" or "dies" entails though)

respects 56 a lot, almost exclusively refers to it as 'captain' . nobody else really cares about that, its just El who does that

trusts Zachary more than Morgan does, still cautious because she knows what it can do but believes it that its not going to do that

El and Morgan are rlly cool with each other. she likes to listen to them talk about whatever, they know a lot about stuff and El thinks thats cool

Morgan :

also actually human

mostly does ship duty but does also go in the facility sometimes, pretty good at it.

also takes the job seriously, not as much as 56 though. just wants to be safe, make sure nobody gets killed

they were on a different crew before this one. it didn't end well..

very dry and kind of snippy, they do care though just arent good at showing it

they kinda rlly seem like an asshole but will open up to people sometimes it just takes a while

very interested in xenobiology, got the job to get to observe the moons wildlife more directly. theyre fine with doing the rest of it though

really good at dealing with the creatures because of that

despite not being the fighter of the group they have taken down nutcrackers before, El will not so they deal with that instead.

only one on the ship who actually has first aid training. usually is the one to have to deal with that. only ever seen Elliot and Zachary get hurt though, Fifty-Six is somehow always fine

very suspicious of Fifty-Six, knows something's up with him but doesn't say anything because they don't wanna start shit with whatever kind of alien beast it is

cautious as hell around Zachary, doesn't like to be alone with it. they've seen what maskeds do to people and they don't like it.

but they've never actually interacted with a masked for so long so it's.. an interesting experience at least. there's not much documented about them so this is the most they've gotten to know about maskeds

Elliot and Morgan are chill, Morgan will often talk to her about different things. she's a good listener.

[gnrlove1987]

Prompt(s): Giving gifts, Misteltoe

You've been Axl's assistant on the Use Your Illusion for six months. When you first went to the job interview you were so nervous. Axl had a bad rep and you expected the worst. Diva behavior, rude, demanding. But when you went to the interview you were proven wrong. He was attentive to everything you said and genuinely wanted to know about you. Even the things that had no relation to the job. He was kind and laid back, putting you at ease even though you were talking to the biggest rock star on the planet.

He offered you the job on the spot and 6 months later you had traveled several cities and countries along Axl’s side. Spending so much time together, you two had your own inside jokes and would spend hours talking on plane rides or when he was amped up after a show and couldn’t sleep. You even told him about your beloved Grandmother's swan broach that you would always peer at in her jewelry box as a kid and when she died, your aunt sold it off so you never saw it again, but you always associate your grandma with the swan broach. After months spent getting so close, it was in December that you finally realized you were in love with him. You were hopelessly and stupidly in love with Axl.

if him being your boss wasn’t a big enough obstacle, him having a stunning Victoria’s Secret model girlfriend was the nail in the coffin. She was rich and glamorous with men falling at her feet. You knew there was no comparison so you were going to let it be. But seeing Axl and Stephanie together when they were all over each other, you felt your heart deflate more and more each time.

At the last tour stop, Axl confided in you that he was getting someone very important to him a gift for the holidays that was going to be very special for her. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. You made the decision that night that you couldn’t do this anymore. Anytime you saw them together you felt ill. And now you found yourself burning up with jealousy when he talked to you about this extravagant gift he was giving her. Even though you needed the money and you loved Axl, you gave your notice you were quitting the next day. He was shocked and didn’t know what to say. He told you he’d pay you more, hire another assistant so there wouldn’t be so much work on your own. He pleaded with you to stay. But there was no turning back, you’d stay until the last stop before everyone went home for Christmas and then that was it. You’d be finished.

With the last show in the books, there was a big holiday party to celebrate the end of this leg of the tour. Colorful lights lit up the room with every type of alcohol imaginable within arms reach. Holiday garlands strung all around the room. Standing in the hallway next to an adorned Christmas tree, you took your eyes off the beautiful decorations and saw Slash and Duff, drunk and stumbling around, coming to you.

“y/n! We heard you’re leaving! We’re gonna fuckin miss you!” Duff slurred.

“Yeah, are you sure you can’t stay? Who else is gonna keep Axl from going on fuckin rampages!” Slash laughed.

You laughed as you rolled your eyes, “He’ll be fine without me. He has Steph.”

Slash shook his head and walked away with Duff and his almost empty bottle of vodka trailing close behind. Confused, you watched Duff and slash walk off until a deep, familiar voice attracted your attention.

“Trying to avoid me?” Axl asked with a smirk

“No “ you lied. The less you saw him, the easier it would be to leave in the morning. “I just thought you’d be busy with Steph.”

He nodded in understanding. “ Nah, she left this morning.”

You looked down disinterestedly. You couldn’t muster anymore fake interest in her than you already had for six months.

“You don’t like her very much, do you?” Axl questioned

You looked up, surprised. “What, no, I do I guess. She’s fine. If she makes you happy that’s what matters”.

“Then why are you leaving me y/n? “ he asked sadly.

“Axl, please don’t. I already told you I didn’t want to talk about it. I just can’t work for you anymore. “ you replied looking down. You couldn't bear to look in his eyes.

“Fine. But I don’t know what I’ll do without you. Are you sure nothing can change your mind to stay?”

you nodded.

"You know, y/n, you were always more than an assistant to me. I'm really gonna miss you."

Trying to stay composed you nodded your head as you tried to speak around the lump in your throat, "I'm going to miss you too, Ax."

"I was gonna give this to you when we were back in L.A but Slash told me that you were leaving first thing in the morning so here ya go."

He took a velvet box out of his silky coat pocket and handed it to you.

You gave a slight laugh, surprised that he gave you something.

"You got me a present?" you asked

"I told you I was getting someone very important to me a special gift" he answered as he walked away before you could say anything.

Stunned, you opened the box and saw a jeweled broach that looked like a swan. Tears began to cloud your vision as you realized that he remembered all that you had told him. Now, Axl had given you one that looked exactly like your grandma's swan broach, something that would always be a sweet reminder of her.

As he was halfway out the door, you ran after him and threw your arms around his neck, pressing your lips to his.

Taken aback, he looked at you dazed with surprise.

"Mistletoe" you grinned as you pointed to the green hanging from the ceiling above him.

After a quick glance up, Axl smiled in return and then slipped his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you, pressing his tongue to yours, tasting of tobacco and champagne.

You smiled against his lips, feeling him do the same.

[fangbangerghoul]

Hello, my lovely mutuals and fanfic readers! I am happy to be here again to share some of one of my current fics for Snippet Sunday!

Tagging: @eridanidreams, @silurisanguine, @atonalginger, @staticpallour, @5oh5, @booburry, @bearlytolerant, @lisa-and-shadow, @a-cosmic-elf, and @therealgchu (I'll leave some off, so the others have people to tag! As usual there is no requirement to participate!)

This is going to be a snippet from Chapter 9 of Fleeting Pleasures. I know my writing has been taking a bit longer than it did in the beginning but with my classes and winter taking a toll, it's been difficult to stick to a good writing routine.

Feel free to check out my tag #The Coemancer Crew to check out some other lovely Starfield fics and art while you wait for the update! If you are interested in joining a Starfield community I do host a Sam Coe Discord Server. Everyone under my The Coemancer Crew tag is a community member!

Chapter 9: bad decisions snippet

Ghoul exited through the doors and away from the noise to see the mess from the night before still lingering about. There was dried blood all over the place, glass bottles, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a pack of cigarettes left on one of the small crates. She swiped it before anyone else came walking by and immediately used the lighter that was with the pack to light one. Ghoul felt a small rush of relief when the smoke entered her lungs and the nicotine bled into her system. As she blew out the smoke, she saw Jessamine kick a bottle on her way out of doors from The Last Nova. She huffed something and that was when she noticed Ghoul standing there smoking the cigarette. Her dusty pink hair and yellow eyes akin to Ghoul’s always caught her attention in the bar but they never spoke much. Jessamine strode over with confidence and held out her hand, her two fingers stretched out waiting. Ghoul looked her over with a quick glance and then smirked, handing her the cigarette without protest.  “I heard Delgado is finally off your back. You must have really pissed him off.” Jessamine sounded amused at the thought and her accent sounded straight out of a Celtic fairy tale she was forced to read before. Jessamine puffed on her cigarette watching her with keen eyes. Ghoul was unsure what the approach this woman was trying to take with her, but she thought she could play along, as a distraction.  “From what I have seen, that isn’t too hard to do. He can be a real dictator sometimes.” Ghoul said with a smile they both started to walk forward as they spoke, their step-in rhythm.  “You gotta be with all the people who join, considered.” She shrugged and the slight draw on some of the vowels she pronounced were fun to hear her say. They had no destination set but aimlessly walking around The Key. It was a change of pace of what Ghoul usually did and it helped keep her mind off of her empty stomach.   “All hail the king, hmm?” Ghoul rolled her eyes at the thought. Though she knew at this point it wasn’t like she was in a position to say much, not after what she just did for Delgado.  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Jessamine laughed and stopped them in the center of the front end of The Key. The docked spaceships were on the other side of the door ahead and it seemed they were going to come full circle if they continued anymore. “When is the next time you are going on a run? Care to hire someone?”  Ghoul knew she shouldn’t be too surprised. She had heard Jessamine’s pitch a few times while drinking in the bar, but she never thought about it herself. Jessamine was itching to get off The Key which was the exact opposite of Ghoul right now. Ghoul thought perhaps maybe she should be itching to get off this damn space station. She had been locked in here for months, now she was starving again, and for that time was supposedly undercover for a government ran authority she didn’t give a shit about until she blew her own cover. Ghoul took in a deep breath and sighed before answering the eager face standing before her.  “I have a ship and that’s it.” Ghoul said with warning and her arms crossed. Her body was stiff, and she leaned back a bit with one foot pointing at Jessamine and the other out to the ships. “I didn’t ask for the ship, but Delgado relinquished it to me anyway. I don’t have any credits, but I guarantee we'll have some soon.”   Jessamine now was the one sizing her up. Ghoul could see the hesitance in her body language, and she didn’t blame her. Ghoul probably wouldn't take up her own offer.

[spikedsoul]

maid's worst nightmare - ch 28

"i'll just start the chapter today at work just to have a little something done" i said. anyway here's the wholeass chapter

previous chapters

@sovereign-of-succ

There wasn't much news about the Mushroom Kingdom, as it turned out. There was one article about how Bowser attacked and destroyed the castle - again - and how, again, there were no fatalities. You sighed heavily as you scrolled through it, scanning for any indication of how long it might take to get the castle rebuilt. Most of the article focused on how the attack seemed more vicious than usual, given the scale of the destruction, and finally at the very end of it there was one sentence that suggested it might take a few weeks. 

That struck you as a rather quick time frame to rebuild a whole castle but maybe the toads were just that good? Who knew. It also struck you that you didn't seem to be missing - the article had claimed everyone was accounted for.

As you sat there frowning at the screen, some of the articles off to the side refreshed. You'd done a good job at ignoring them until your eyes were inevitably drawn by the movement. To your surprise, there seemed to be a follow up article posted just yesterday.

MISSING: PRINCESS PEACH'S NEW HIRE

Your heart leapt in your chest; that had to be you. As far as you knew, you were the most recently hired maid, and the only one missing. Peach had realized you were gone! Surely she was itching to try and find you! Too bad you didn't have a way to contact her to let her know where you were.

As quickly as you could, you opened the article to practically speed read it. Your breath caught in your lungs at a certain part.

In an unprecedented turn of events, one of Princess Peach's handmaidens has come up missing after the attack on the castle. The handmaid, who Princess Peach asked us to keep anonymous for privacy reasons, was hired only a few months ago when she moved to the Mushroom Kingdom. Without a body, rumors are flying, but the most prevalent one is that for the first time in his life, King Bowser has kidnapped someone other than the princess to hold hostage. Others speculate she just up and left, but the princess is adamant that this woman wouldn't do such a thing. Currently, Princess Peach is trying to get in contact with King Bowser to confirm if he knows anything or not. She expects to hear from Prince Peasley of the Beanbean Kingdom tomorrow when they return from a trip to King Bowser's castle.

Holy shit, this was definitely about you. She knew, and she was trying to get you back, but it seemed like she didn't have a direct way to contact Bowser or else surely the process would have been sped up. Maybe you'd be back with her before the week was out… or at least there might be plans to be back with her then.

The sting of imminent tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you quickly found yourself fanning your face with a hand in hopes too keep the tears from falling; if you cried, you'd end up ruining the makeup Wendy did for you. It was hard, though; after Bowser suggesting she wouldn't care, or couldn't justify bringing up home, it was a massive relief to know that she had noticed your absence and was going to do her best to find you.

You hoped she didn't think you were secretly dead somewhere. That would suck pretty badly.

At the very least, the article mentioned your body was missing so it seemed like she was holding out hope that you were, indeed, just stolen.

You couldn't wait to go home.

After a few minutes of fanning yourself to keep your tears in your eyes, you successfully didn't cry. Now Wendy wouldn't throw a fit if she happened to see you again before the day was out - and honestly, you were counting that as a big win. But now that you had the news, you knew you still had a bit of time, so what better way to spend it than doing a little research into the princess you served? Just to see what others thought about her.

The first link you ended up clicking on was just a glowing review of her: aptly named with a bubbly personality that would rival the sun itself, a woman who'd never abandon those in her care and despite being stolen time and again, always went back home and immediately dealt with issues that had arisen in the time she was gone. She was a fierce competitor when it came to games, a reputable kicker of ass, but she was never unsportsmanlike. It even seemed like in times of need, she would help other kingdoms that reached out to her - whether or not they were allies.

Although it was reassuring to read such a wonderful thing about her, you were careful not to let yourself get swept away in the excitement. You recognized the author as a toad that often wrote articles in the newspaper and figured he might be just a little biased.

The next article you looked into seemed less positive. You didn't recognize the author, but according to them, the personality that Peach presented was just a cover for how she was behind closed doors. The article alleged that she would abandon people when they traveled, and coerced her subjects into pretending they loved her. The author seemed to think that Peach was the sort to throw people under the bus if it meant she stayed out of trouble. Needless to say, you weren't totally convinced.

The third article you delved into seemed to be a solid in between of the other two: this one made some valid points that Peach genuinely tried to do her best for her people, but as a monarch she was sometimes put in tough spots and had to make decisions that others didn't agree with. You were much more willing to believe that, if you were honest, and after finding out that she had realized your absence, you didn't think you'd blame her if she couldn't negotiate a fair trade for you.

You were just a handmaiden, after all. Perhaps appreciated by her, but definitely not someone important.

You sighed and rolled your shoulders as you sat up a little; during your readings, you'd started to hunch over, which was a bad habit you weren't totally sure how to fix. But whatever! The important thing was that overall, it seemed like opinions of Princess Peach were positive and that you had actually made a good choice when you applied for your position. That genuinely helped ease most of your lingering anxieties and you knew that even if it took another week for negotiations to finish, you'd be able to wait more patiently.

Just as you stood up to wrap up your little research session, you heard the door open behind you.

"See? I told you she was here," came Morton’s voice. "Okay, have fun!" And the door slammed before you had a chance to turn around to see him.

When you did turn, your blood froze in your veins as you were greeted to the sight of Rodney stalking his way toward you, a forced smile on his face while his hands balled into fists. He had an infinitely more threatening aura than you'd expected, his eyes boring holes right through you as you stood frozen at the desk. You knew he'd be unhappy with you when you ran but you had no idea it would feel borderline murderous.

Fuck, this was serious. Morton didn't know Rodney was supposed to stay away from you and as far as you knew, no one else knew you were here or with him.

Rodney could legitimately kill you. He looked like he was about to. You knew instinctively that you wouldn't be getting out of this without some injuries.

"Been looking for you, cutie," he growled. "Why don't we have a chat, just the two of us, huh?"

[deletingpoint]

Worry

on ao3

If she’s honest with herself, it was Susan that made her do it. The real estate agent thing. Not like she told her to or even suggested it or anything, but just, well…. She was so good at it and she loved it so much and Zooey wanted it too, to have the fire in the work she does. And she wasn’t bad, right? She just felt bad doing it.

Ugh. Susan’s voicemail is still freakishly sunshiney. Not like her at all. Perhaps a year ago she would’ve bought it, cause Susan was that, smiling and chipper through a lot of crap and taking time for yourself sometimes does make people’s brains melt into ‘life is a flower embrace it’. Not Susan though. She would answer her damn phone at some fucking point, right? It’s not like Zooey treated her like dirt, that was all Luke who got his head bit off for it by Zooey, so what was Susan’s problem with her? They’d gotten a lot closer during the time without Luke. As said, Zooey admired her work, her spark, kinda maybe started to like her personality, only a little, maybe, she wasn’t even annoyed by her smile anymore.

So yeah, she grew more worried with each day passing without actually seeing or hearing Susan. She didn’t even answer the e-mails any more, it’s like she deleted herself from the face of the Earth. But she wouldn’t, right? Zooey remembers how annoyed she was when Luke did it, how she kept them all going in the meantime. She wouldn’t do that herself, how could no one else see it? It just… it wasn’t Susan to leave in a cowardly way. Bye, nice knowing you, never want to know you again? Sure, she needed to cool off, but that’s just cooling off not disappearing.

Damn it, she’d wanted to see her face when she did her agent exam, would it have been a different smile from the usual? There would’ve been a hug, that’s for sure. Would she have know it wasn’t the right thing for Zooey or would she have been too excited to have a common theme for two of them to notice.

And now they’re hiring someone new and sure they need someone, but when Susan comes back she would need a place among them….

Zooey caresses her phone, open at Susan’s name and makes the decision to go by the house. The address is new, so she hasn’t been before, but Susan had called it perfect and forever and whatever.

There’s no such thing as perfect.

And no one answers.

And the place doesn’t look like someone lives there.

And Zooey has chills in her stomach and suddenly she wishes that Susan really had left them and gone on a solo adventure trip around the world.

The bad feeling only grows worse with every minute not hearing from her.

[silkendandelion]

Mirage In The Desert - Chapter 11

Summary: Operation Utopia is tomorrow. All sides take their positions, and Vivi understands exactly what kind of pirate she hired.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for language, violence. Cross-posted to Ao3, same username. Send me a DM: yell at me, send flowers. Cheers.

~*~

Days to Operation Utopia: 2

“Food… Food, water… Mercy,” Luffy said to no one as they trudged along. Getting from Nanohana to Yuba on foot seemed easy as an idea, though it melted their brains in practice.

“You drank all your water in the first 10 minutes, of course you’re thirsty,” Nami said, though she was in no better shape.

Luffy just groaned at the sky, squinting his eyes free of sweat as the horizon began to ripple. “I see… I see—”

“You’re hallucinating.” Zoro wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

“I see a man!”

“Definitely hallucinating,” Usopp sighed.

“A man with a… a backpack, big one. Maybe he has food!”

His friends cried after him, “LUFFY NO!”, though none of them had a prayer (or the strength) to do anything over than watch him tear over the dunes and up the trail of a very real man with a pack on his shoulders bigger than a camel.

“Hey! Share some of your food!” Luffy yelled, more of a war cry as he rocketed over the last dune, into the air on a snap of his rubbery legs and down onto the top of the enormous backpack. So large, in fact, that the wearer went unaware he had a visitor, who now gnawed on the flap and strap to attempt to burgle some of the provisions within.

He did notice, however, when his owl circled back to dive towards the top of his pack.

“What is it, girl?” He called up, only answered by the knock-knock-knock of her beak hitting something hard over and over, and the far away yells of a person.

‘Ow! Hey! Get your own! This is my food!’

Luffy grunted when the pack was set down in the sand, holding his hands over his head and waving to shoo away the guard owl that tried to peck a hole in the top of his skull.

“Come down from there, thief.” The man tilted the pack to knock him off, and he fell to the sand with a thud.

“Watch out! That owl’s mean!” He pointed, and the brindled owl glided down to land silently on the man’s outstretched arm.

“She’s not mean, she’s meant to help me. With thieves, or otherwise.”

“My bad,” Luffy laid back in the sand, still rubbing his smarting scalp. “I’m just so hungry. Can I have some food? Water? But like, preferably food? Please.”

“Luffy!” Chopper called as the friends finally came over the dune. “Oh, Luffy was right. it is a man.”

“With a big backpack,” Nami blinked at him.

“Are you all hungry?” The man called out to them and his first smile touched his lips, all white teeth against his dark skin. He took a quick inventory of the crew’s members, believing himself to be lucky that Ace had already separated from them, lest his identity be compromised by someone else who did most of their work in the New World.

“… well, yeah!” Usopp called back, cheerfully, when no one else spoke up.

The man lifted the owl to coax her to fly. “Then let’s eat. Rinai, if you please.”

She gave an obedient flap of her wings up to the top of the enormous pack, and picked the latch to let it fall open, unrolling to reveal a massive spread of dried meat, fish, and local fruits, all arranged carefully around a barrel of water.

Luffy, Chopper and Usopp’s eyes nearly left their heads as they fell to their knees. “G-God, he must be a god. Stranger! You’ve saved our lives!”

“A stranger, indeed,” Vivi and Nami looked at each other.

“We don’t have to be. My name is Aurelio.” He took a seat next to the impromptu picnic, content to eat without anymore questions, whether the strangers joined him or not.

“It’s all high quality ingredients. And if he’s eating it, it probably isn’t a trick.” Sanji sat down next to Zoro, though he watched carefully the way the stranger—Aurelio—ate politely across the blanket.

“Maybe.” Zoro felt his stomach growl, even as he tried to be suspicious. “Shit.”

A few of the boys wrestled to pry the water barrel open with clumsy fingers, and the owl fluttered over to sit gently on the rim.

“Cups, we needs cups—” The owl reached under her wing to offer a little tin cup, the handle in her beak.

“Oh! Thank you.” Usopp smiled at her. “Eh—did you understand me?”

“That’s Rinai. She’s very intelligent,” Aurelio said.

Zoro swallowed his bite of fish before he spoke. “I just don’t like birds.”

“Mm?” Chopper leaned to hear her better, giggling suddenly. “She said she doesn’t like you either.”

“Sorry about before, you know,” Luffy said from where he ate beside her, cheeks full of food, and she reached under her wing to offer him a band-aid.

“Haha! I guess that means you forgive me.” He smiled, and she pretended to peck his hand just to hear him laugh again.

Aurelio picked apart a few pieces of fresh fish to give them to her one by one. “She ate the Pocket-Pocket fruit, and now she’s my best friend. A near infinite amount of non-living things can be stored in her dimension through the pockets under her wings.”

“Wow…” Usopp chewed and sipped while he watched her. “What does she keep in there?”

“Mostly mice,” Aurelio said, and the seriousness of his delivery had all of them giggling or choking to various degrees.

“What are you doing out here, Aurelio?” Vivi asked, her cup in her lap. “In the middle of the desert?”

“Being more prepared than you all, apparently,” he said, though his smile implied he was joking. “Seriously, who walks across the desert without food and water?”

“It’s our first time.” Nami sighed.

He took another sip to give himself time to formulate a reply. “I’m actually on my way to Yuba. The rebel army is expecting me.”

Vivi sat up straighter, leaning over and almost spilling her cup. “Really? So are we!”

“Are you with the Revolutionary Army?” Sanji asked, ever perceptive and searching for a reason why a foreigner would be called to a civil war.

“Kind of. The rebels sent a message to the RA but it traveled so far that most of it was destroyed by the time it arrived. Dragon has sent me to investigate.”

“They were so close…” Vivi said quietly, mostly to herself, as she realized any aid that Aurelio could call for would arrive too late for the war that was at their door. Whether it was more bad luck or sabotage didn’t matter now, only that they were on their own.

At most, they had one more ally: a strange, jovial man with a devil fruit eating owl and a shadow to his face that didn’t let his smile quite reach his eyes.

“Would you like to walk with us to Yuba?” She said.

The smile ran from his face to be replaced by genuine confusion, startlingly young for his heavy brown eyes, and a reflexive suspicion that felt more akin to an animal instinct than rudeness.

“… Okay. It’s still several more hours away, so please, eat your fill. And I will carry the leftovers until we get hungry again.”

“He thinks there’s gonna be leftovers,” Nami said into her cup while she looked over at Luffy, who was still going strong. ____ ___ __ _

Days to Operation Utopia: 1

At Raindinners, Robin found Crocodile admiring the Bananawani tank as he always did when his poet was nowhere in sight. He had watched the beasts a lot over the past weeks.

“The Billions in Nanohana were defeated by pirates.”

He turned to acknowledge her, letting the curtain fall shut. “It doesn’t matter, not now. Replace them.”

“The lizard runners are already dispatched. And the officers are on their way.”

Silence stretched between them except for the quiet rumble of the tank, and Crocodile reflected on the empty seat in front of his desk, an open letter beside the lamp that read ‘I will return before the meeting’ across the footnote in a loopy scribble.

“He’s late.”

Her unburdened smile threatened to create a headache in the front of his apathetic face, both of them so careful to never give too much away.

“That’s just how he is.”

“No, he’s not, Miss All Sunday. And you know that.”

They didn’t know that he was arriving as they spoke. Through the lobby and upstairs faster than he could manage without stumbling out of the elevator, and right to his room.

Sweat drenched clothes form a pile beside the door, and he wrenches the suitcase from under his bed to let it bounce on the mattress. The lid is getting dirty from so much handling, latch weak from rough treatment, and the envelope he deposits inside seems like it might be the last straw for the straining suitcase.

No time for anything more than a bath, he decides, not when the officers would arrive any moment, and he was meant to be among them. Another performance, to act surprised until the very end. All in a day’s work—these days, at least.

A knock at the door startled him to almost drop his brush, suddenly frozen except for the drips of his hair onto his dressing gown, and his eyes darting back to the suitcase on the duvet.

“Who is it?”

“May I come in?”, came Crocodile’s muffled voice.

He stared down at him through the tiny sliver that appeared between the door and the frame, like he would wait forever even as a cloud of perfumed bathwater drifted out into the hall, tempting his nose and his memory. But he no longer had permission to intrude.

“I’m getting ready for the meeting,” River said, though the lock slips free. Crocodile finds a seat on the edge of the unmade bed, denied anywhere else to sit with the outfits piled over the back of the couch and books in stacks on the chairs beside his table.

He notices the empty cartons of cigarettes in the wastebasket, none in the bed this time, and the sun setting outside the window almost obscures the fading dark circles under the violet eyes that scrutinize him so gently.

“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” Crocodile gestures to a hanging suit, black, with a green waistcoat. “It will bring out your eyes—”

“We’ve already said goodbye, Crocodile.” The curls of his bangs, damp against his cheek, nearly obscure his face. “Why have you come here?”

He stands to reach out to him, cup his cheek and touch the bags under his eyes with a gentle thumb. Long lashes flutter closed, perhaps taken by a daydream he would kiss him. If fate was kinder, he might open his eyes to a warm bed and a warmer sunrise coming in the window.

“I don’t want you to sit at the table tonight.”

His eyes flick open, confused, and he almost follows the hand that leaves his cheek. “What do you mean?”

“The table is for my subordinates.” He goes to fetch the suit that hangs waiting, and lays it across the bed to begin unwrapping the outfit.

“Not for you.”

“… Crocodile.” They had already said goodbye to what they once were, agreed to work together once more, purely professional, and yet the fondness in the warlord’s eyes as he arranged the pieces of the silk suit made his chest tight.

“I’m perfectly aware of what we are, where we stand.” He goes to the closet to riffle through River’s pretty things, choose a pair of boots and some earrings, always gold.

“But you will never be one of them. Stand beside me.”

River considered the offer, unaware how long he stared to think, though he felt the brush of fingers on his neck as he pulled the dressing gown aside was wholly unfair. “After everything? When there is so little left between us?”

But he couldn’t manage to sound angry, not anything more than lovesick, an ache behind his eyes to press his nose to the space between his ear and neck, scent his cologne on warm skin.

“Oh,” Crocodile pondered gently as he allowed it, helpless to not scent him back for the starfruit in his shampoo. “… If you refuse, all you have to do is tell me to go.”

He dresses the Oasin like a parting gift, slowly and silent, content to fasten each button with care and iron his edges until he shines. The intimacy fills River’s face with heat, wondering if Crocodile has ever given such a subservient gesture to anyone before, whether he ever will again.

Get away. Don’t you know you polish a Judas to stand beside you at this critical moment?

Do you not care?

A wordless request passes between them, understood, and River moves his hair to allow him to hang sapphires from his ears, drape his neck in gold as he touches a tiny bruise on the front of his neck.

The Pirate Hunter couldn’t manage to scratch him, though the mottled spot was evidence of their meeting.

And Crocodile almost asked if he was all right, feeling silly for stopping to rub a mark smaller than a coin.

“You’re ready.” The quiet of his voice startled River back from where he stared out the window.

“Am I?” He stands to admire himself in the mirror, as laced up as ever, pity that the light of his jewels can’t reach his eyes.

“Look at me.” Spoken not like a warlord’s command, but a man wanting to see his love up close one more time.

The world continues to be cruel to me, that you are the poet and I am the one who wishes to write verses about your face.

You were never mine. But I will never forget you.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

River scoffs, the moisture in his eyes chased away by the absurdity of a man in love, and replaced by a bubble of a laugh. Just a little at first, until he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, out of breath and eyes wet again as they find Crocodile’s own smile.

“More than anything.” ____ ___ __ _

Downstairs, the officers were already gathered, doomed to bicker when left alone with only each other’s company and the bubbling of the wani tank along the wall.

“This is ridiculous, how much longer are we meant to wait?” Mr. 2 said, hands slapping the table to demand seafood desserts or at least a beverage for their trouble.

“Please be quiet, Mr. 2, or at least complain about things that matter. Like your missing partner,” Miss Double-finger said from across the table.

“Why do you think I’m so hungry? I’ve worried myself sick!” They looked all around, hoping to find River in a chair or at least in the room, but no sign.

In another part of the house, the sound of leather-soled loafers approach the luxury hall.

“I suppose I can’t hope to have you all get along,” came Miss All Sunday’s voice from the stairs. “Though it’s not necessary anyway. Welcome to Rainbase, a city of dreams in a desert such as this.”

She descended the stairs to her captive audience, the officers mostly unimpressed and too impatient to be complaint.

“Can we skip the formalities and get to the point?” Mr. 1 spoke up finally.

“Of course. You all were summoned here regarding the identity of our boss, whose face you have never seen. Mr. i, the door, if you please.”

River stepped from a shadow at the back of the room, all eyes turning wide to see him go to a door on the wall.

“… you—” Mr. 2 found they couldn’t speak, nothing more than a grunt of surprise among the table’s shocked murmurs, some more spiteful than others.

But as River turned the golden handle, the footfalls now on the other side of the door, he met their eyes.

I’m sorry.

Crocodile’s appearance needed no introduction, and he ignored them to extend his hand to River and escort him to the table. Though all the officers gawked, struck speechless, Mr. 2 felt the shock behind their ribs turn sharp, stuck on a vein and stinging when Crocodile took his seat and River stood beside his chair. The perfect posture of a soldier, even as he bends to offer his lighter to the warlord’s lips, and the realization flushed Mr. 2’s face scarlet when they identified the intimate air between them.

I suppose it was always impossible for me to know all of your secrets, River. But aren’t we friends?

They felt possessed to rip the lighter from his hands, force the two apart and shield him with their body from the famously cruel warlord. To grip his shoulders, demand an answer, first to “Why?”, then “How long?”, and “Did he hurt you?”

But Mr. 2 didn’t move. And Crocodile commanded the room.

“The time has come for Baroque Work’s final mission: Operation Utopia.”

“Wait a moment, I have questions. What is a warlord doing with a company like this?” Miss Double-finger said.

“Right? What a big-shot.” Miss Merry Christmas agreed.

His ruthless glare was enough to silence their protests. “Dissatisfied?”

They all looked down at their laps, obedient while he smoked. An explanation was owed, he decided, and he took the time to outline both the purpose of their organization, and how his plans for the fate of Alabasta had to do with the secret buried beneath the sand. By the time he was finished, a neat pile of cigars smoldered in the ashtray.

“Mr. i.” His voice startled River from where he had been watching the wani pass by the window.

A series of envelopes were produced from his breast pocket, the final orders of the officers, and passed around the table according to rank.

“These are your last orders. In a single night, Alabasta will fall to us. Failure is not an option.”

But a voice interrupted their meeting from the stairs.

“Ahem. I hope you’ll excuse my interruption. But you must put a hold on this Operation Utopia.”

“Mr. 3.” River gasped. The mission to eliminate him had failed when the wax man went missing, now suddenly standing before them. Injured, worse for the wear, but alive.

“How did you get down here?” Miss All Sunday asked, and he was happy to ignore her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, boss. I’ve humbly come to ask for another chance... I failed my mission, after all.”

Crocodile set his tea down to give him his attention. “What are you talking about?”

“Well…” The candle-man began to sweat. “Letting the Strawhats go, of course.”

His teacup shattered under his grip and River managed not to flinch. So that’s the assignment Mr. 3 disappeared from.

“You said you took care of them. On the phone.”

“I… I didn’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He swallowed when Crocodile stood to his full height. “The—the intel was wrong! The Princess had four pirate escorts!”

“Them?” A stack of sketches slid across the table, all beside a photo of a small Vivi, presumably the last time she publicly appeared.

Mr. 2 paled, suddenly ill as they touched the drawings. “I met them.”

“You what?” Crocodile demanded.

“Him! Him! And her!” He flipped through their faces and looked to River. “It was before you stopped in Nanohana. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“… You didn’t tell me you were in Nanohana.” His rumble sent a shiver of fear up River’s spine, feeling eyes on the side of his face as he struggled to find an untruth that would bide his time.

Calm down. Don’t give away too much. To him or them.

But of all the Rivers scrambling to retain control in the terrifying final hour, the brat is the one who answered. The first mistake.

“I don’t tell you most of my business.” The thik of River lighting a cigarette plucked at the last string of his patience, almost as much as the tick of his hip in his bored posture.

Around the table, the officers were satisfied with his answer, familiar with the River that didn’t speak until spoken to, with a sharp tongue and unapproachable silhouette, but Crocodile knew better. And he was still the one in control.

“Of course.” A cruel smile slid across his face as he turned back to Mr. 3.

“Mr. 3, do you know why you’re ranked as high as you are? Despite the fact that even Mr. 4 outranks you in combat abilities?”

“W-Well, I—” He choked when Crocodile grabbed him around the throat, and River’s cigarette wobbled.

“Crocodile—!” The hook silenced him, a powerful gesture in just it’s appearance.

“Your intelligence has always been useful, and that underhanded tenacity. But letting those kids get away is inexcusable.”

Mr. 3’s skin shriveled faster than anyone could react, the officers around the table visibly nauseous to see him sucked dry by Crocodile’s hand, flung away into a fragile heap.

River’s cigarette fell to the floor, the only movement as a cold dread sunk into his belly.

He was staring at a warning.

To everyone in this room: failure will not be tolerated, and neither will any contact with the Strawhats that didn’t end in their demise.

“W-water…” Mr. 3 looked up at the person closest to him, his eyeballs wrinkling and limbs unable to hold him up with only crumbling, rubbery fibers attached to his bones. “M-Mr. i—”

“Have all the water you like.”

The press of a button sent him plummeting to the Bananawani tank below. Whimpers echoed up the metal of the chute, cutoff screams the last of the noise in the room when the hatch slid shut.

“Miss All Sunday?”

“Sir.”

“Give the order: kill the Princess and the Strawhats on sight. At the very least they can bring confusion to the rebel army, and I want no further issues.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Mr. i.”

He acknowledged him only by the flicker of his eyes, his cigarette burning out black beside his shoes.

“Hold the casino with Miss All Sunday.” He didn’t bother to meet his gaze. “And you will answer me.”

“… Yes, Sir.”

Mr. 2 watched the shadow pass over his face, an ache in their chest for a friend but no will to challenge his oppressor. Not yet.

“The rest of you have your orders. Go, enjoy yourselves. This time tomorrow, this country will be ours.” ____ ___ __ _

Nearby, in Yuba, the Strawhats trudged over the last dune to find no rebel base or army waiting for them. What had previously been an oasis seemed to crumble with the weight of it’s own shell, lined with decrepit buildings and abandoned even by the wildlife.

Vivi’s knees wobbled, threatening to collapse as she looked out over the remains of the city and the choking, desiccated fruit of their long walk.

Aurelio held up his hand to shield his eyes from the sunset. “They might have been gone before I made land.”

“… I don’t understand.” Her voice quivered.

“Hello? Is someone there? Welcome!” They heard from a hole in the center of town, sand flying up and over the side in shovel-fulls.

An old man climbed out as quick as he could, which wasn’t fast at all, brushing the dust off the holey rags of his clothes and his smile beaming despite the sand clinging to the wrinkles of his face.

“You—”, he stopped when he saw the blue-haired girl among them. “Miss Vivi?”

Luffy jumped to distract him, hands waving. “You’re wrong, that is NOT the Princess Vivi—”

“You moron!” Zoro bonked the still-sore top of his head.

“It… It’s really you, isn’t it? I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t recognize me, I’ve lost a lot of weight.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

She stared at him for a long moment, this weathered man whose smile never faulted even as he dug until his hands bled, threadbare bandages catching on the dry skin around his face. Memories flooded back to her, warm in her heart but heavy on her stomach, of the jolly, overweight man that was her friend, Koza’s father.

She ran to hug him, almost pushing them both into the hole as he held her. “I thought I’d never see you again, Mr. Toto.”

“I’ll always be here… I know it’s not much, but you all can rest here for the night. The inns are Yuba’s pride, after all.”

“Where did the rebels go?” Aurelio said from where he gazed into a crumbling fountain.

Suddenly no longer welcoming, the old man bristled and braced to yell at him. “What do you want with them, anyway? You’re not stupid enough to join them too, are you?”

“I’m hoping to talk them down,” he said, and the wind rushed out of the old man’s tired anger.

“… well, they haven’t been here for weeks. They moved their operation to Katorea.”

“K-Katorea?” Vivi cried. “But we were just there!”

“It would have been only a few hours walk from Nanohana,” Nami said.

“We… we were just there.” Vivi wiped at her eyes, the weight of their journey finally taking it’s toll.

“Well, no sense wasting time,” Aurelio looked to the sky for due north. “Thanks for the info, old man,” he said and began walking in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?!” The teenagers all cried.

“Hm? You all are going to rest here, aren’t you? I can travel faster if I’m alone, I’ll be back to Katorea before morning.”

“Let him go,” Zoro said.

“You’re not going to change Luffy’s mind. He’s tired, we’re all tired.” He jerked his thumb to where Luffy was already inspecting the old man’s trenches, half because he was curious, and half because the air was cooler at the bottom of a hole.

“It was nice to meet you all.” Aurelio waved.

“Bye, Mr. Revolutionary!”

“Bye-bye, Aurelio!” They waved back with various intensity, all too preoccupied with the idea of beds and shelter to worry that they didn’t have dinner, or water. Luffy had, predictably, eaten the last of Aurelio’s stash, and the young man walked out of sight with his owl on his shoulder and a goal on his mind.

“He was nice.” Usopp said to Chopper at his side.

“He’s going to beat us there… Maybe it’s too optimistic to think that by the time we arrive, this might all be over,” Vivi said, more to herself than any of her friends.

They just needed time.

Time, that marches equally for the Baroque Works agents drawing up plans, and the rebels who struggle to sleep because they were given orders to march out at dawn. The Strawhats, exhausted beyond their bones, sleep easily because they don’t know they won’t follow Aurelio to Katorea in the morning. They don’t know that by noon they’ll be in Rainbase to face a Warlord of the Sea with only their friends and an unlikely marine captain for an ally.

So they sleep well.

And when Luffy’s patience runs out moments after leaving the drought-stricken town, Vivi will realize they never had to look for the rebels at all.

[coffee-or-murder]

Danya Bakhuizen, at the time of the start of MiV a 35 year old Bloodline of Levistus tiefling, eloquence bard potentially archfey warlock later, and extraordinarily wealthy lawyer to the Family and its many branches. Danya is most comfortable in court, studying, gathering evidence for a case, or cooking in her kitchen, but she comes off as cold and uncaring in most social situations. She is a collector of beautiful things, and often hires people she finds attractive as helpers around her home at totally normal wages not because she’s painfully lonely not at all. Her young cousin Lemon can be found attempting to teach her to bake and failing. Eden aka Ed is also found at her home, either napping on the couch or causing general chaos. Danya is a fan of wines, art, and playing her cello.

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

Mob bucky/seb or mob chris/andy recs??

Updated 07/04/21 ✨ = Just Added

To be added please tag me in your future works!

Hey Anon! I’m so glad you asked this because Mob/Mafia! Any version of those boys is my favorite. In my previous fic recs I recommended...

If love was an option by @mianorth » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Part 1 🦋 Part 2 🦋 Part 3

Good Little Wife & Good Little Girl by @donutloverxo » Mob!Andy Barber x Reader – A little dark and it has some really good smut in it.

Blackmail by @stargazingfangirl18 » Soft!DarkMafia Andy Barber x Female Reader — You were just doing it to protect your family, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, especially once you started to like it. (One-Shot)

Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Bucky is having a bad day, you can help him feel good. (Part of Mafia Monday’s)

Run To You by @bestofbucky » Mob!Boss Bucky x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. (Series)

Can’t Run, Can’t Hide by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!MafiaBucky Barnes x Reader — When you get noticed by the infamous mob boss, you flee. But Bucky doesn’t like to be denied anything and he’s coming for you. (One-shot)

Six Feet | Ch.1 ⚰️ Ch.2 by @queenoftheworldisdead » Dark Mob!Steve x Reader + Dark Mob!Bucky x Reader — Your family’s small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. | (Short Series)

Bankrupt by @mypoisonedvine » dark!40’s!Mob!Stucky x Reader — Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension. When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Partition by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky comforts you after a bad day, and your boss learns why no one messes with his girl. —> Part 2: Let Me Show You — You wanted to know what your mobster boyfriend did, lucky for you he’s more into the show then tell.

Say the word and it’s yours by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mobster boyfriend rescues you from a long, boring day at work. Bucky always said, “ask and its yours”

Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky Barnes would be lost with you. You’re his everything and he plans on spending Valentine’s Day proving it to you.

All Dressed In White by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader — You were going to marry someone else, Bucky won’t let that happen. You belong to him now and forever. Till Death Do You Part.

Thick As Thieves by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mafia!Steve Rogers — The only thing the Mafia hates as much as snitches are thieves. And you’re planning on stealing from Bucky and Steve, what happens if you get caught?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that.

Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again.

To Have & To Hold by @slyyywriting » Bucky Barnes x Mob Boss!Reader — Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(series)

✨ Mob!Sugar Daddy!Stucky Moodboard by @brattycherubwrites » Mob!Stucky x Reader

✨ Laced Around Your Throat by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it.

✨ Hidden Gems by @jtargaryen18 » Mob!Steve Rogers x Mob!Daughter Reader — Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

Necessary Arrangements by @stargazingfangirl18 » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x (Different) Fem! Reader ft. Ransom Drysdale » One of my favorite series, chapters are decent sized and the smut is so good!

Hugs My Love by @thatfuckingweirdo » Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You just really need a hug, and Bucky is the only one you want it from.

my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam by @cloudystevie » Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader — steve gives you what you want… kind of.

Brooklyn Wars by @world-of-aus » Stucky x Reader

Petals and Bullets by @revengingbarnes » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader (One of my all time favorites series)

I would check out @sinner-as-saint’s Masterlist they have quite a few Mob!Bucky series and one-shots that I have loved in the past.

Special by @buckycuddlebuddy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — this one-shot is really hot.

Love, Honor, and Obey by @constantwriter85 » Bucky Barnes — This one is good and I need to catch up on.

Mafioso by @captain-barnes-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Please do yourself a favor and read.

Lipstick and Crayons by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader - In Progress

A really good DarkMob!Steve Drabble called Please Hurt Me by @gotnofucks *chefs kiss*

The Mobster’s Little Girl by @smutsonian » Steve Rogers x Reader

off to the races 🐻 off to the races 2 by @harryspet » Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast by @mysterioh » Steve Rogers x Reader – With 21 parts sadly it hasn’t been updated in 8 months, it’s one of my favorite Mob!Steve Roger fics out there. *Thanks to @inactivewhore I found out this story was moved to AO3 and is now called where angels fear to tread it was last updated on 13/11/20*

What It Takes by @cherienymphe » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You left Bucky once you found out who he really is. The one thing you thought would guarantee your safety ends up sealing your fate.

Welcome Home by @punani » Chris Evans x Black!Reader — He’s been away for awhile, but he knows that his girl’s loyalty to him knows no bounds. Knows she’s been waiting for him after her adamancy in telling him there was no other option. It’s only right to make the reunion a memorable one. | So, so, so, so freaking good!

These are what I found on Tumblr that I plan on reading.

Handmaid by @extremelyblackandwhite » Sebastian Stan x ingenue!Reader — y/n works as a handmaid for the daughter of an influential mob leader who is promised to the new boss of the most powerful mob family in new york, sebastian.

AO3 Website Reccomendations

Satellite Heart » Stucky x Reader — You used to be Steve and Bucky's girl. Then they fucking left without saying goodbye. Little did they know, you were pregnant. But life went on. You raised your Talia to the best of your ability. But one day, everything goes to shit. Now your boys are back in your life. And they're not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Little Fox A/B/O Series » Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Soft!Dark Natasha Romanoff x OFC! & Peter Parker x Soft!Dark Tony Stark — So I can’t stress this enough you need to read the tags for this series and I kept getting confused as I read this story as to how old Violet Mason is. But this series takes you on a roller coaster, I like it, my cousin didn’t finish it, I need to catch up.

Pelmeni *finished* » Stucky x Reader — James Bucky Barnes has a good life, as a member of a powerful organized crime syndicate. His best friend Steve is a member too and his literal partner in crime. Bucky's got a problem though. You. His longtime love and secret girlfriend. Unfortunately, your father is his boss and has plans for you that involve normal life. Steve has a problem too. Steve wants in on your relationship and more than the semi-regular/occasional steamy threesomes. You don't have a problem, you're just busy with a big mob wedding coming up, which means a big celebration, that you're busy catering for.

Dying For This Love » Dark!Bucky x Reader — That was before. When you were Bucky’s girl. Now, you have a score to settle. That’s why you’re wearing Bucky’s favorite red satin dress, the one with the cuts that reach right up to the tops of your thighs, the tennis necklace he gifted you for your anniversary, and are fresh off of a mani/pedi and hair appointment. He’s going to regret the day he fucked with you. | This one is intense and a tad bit dark, but the smut is good.

off to the races » Steve Rogers x Reader — In which you call the kingpin your Daddy.

The Mobster’s Little Girl » Steve Rogers x Reader — what happens when the big bad mobster gets blackmailed by your father to marry you? (kind of fluffy kind of not. kinda dark kinda not.)

Brooklyn Sweethearts » Dark!Stucky x Reader — Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise. | Probably one of my all time favorite Mafia!Stucky stories I have ever read, just sadly it also hasn’t been updated in like 8 months and I keep hoping it will get updated.

Hot Doll » Skinny!MobBoss Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there. | Dark and good!

Doctor Doctor » Steve Rogers x PlusSize! Reader — (1940 Mobster AU!) You're a war widow down on her luck; and the King of Brooklyn, Steve Rogers, takes notice. | Another one of my favorites. A little bit dark as well.

The Widow » Dark!MobBoss x Reader — It’s the 1920s and everyone’s having a roaring time but you. | Trust me it’s just dark enough.

Those are just some on AO3, I would just go through Mafia AU tag and go to filter and click Avengers or Captain America.

[heliads]

Lost and Found

Based on this request: “single dad Loki is having a hard time finding a sitter for missions, hires a girl who loses his baby. Y/N finds the girl alone at the park. Loki frantically searches for his girl along with the team. He finds her sleeping in the arms of a beautiful young woman. She agrees to work for him as a live in nanny since she lost her other job and home in a fire, but Loki eventually falls for her. Baby calls her mama after a while.”

masterlist

Loki can’t help but feel annoyed as he stares at the clock on the wall. He’s been waiting for someone to show up for a little while now; they’re about ten minutes late, and although this time usually passes in the blink of an eye for a god such as himself, it’s more about the principle of the thing that really irritates him. Despite his own rocky claims at a family heritage, Loki has been the supposed son of a king for most of his life, and he isn’t used to being let down.

Had this incident happened a decade or so ago, Loki would have taken matters into his own hands. He would have found the person he’s waiting on, sought them out and tracked them down like a hunter. He would have smiled to see the fear in their eyes, and exacted promises that they’ll never let him down again. Loki doesn’t usually have to cite the consequences, people know.

However, he’s supposed to be doing better than that. He got out from the rubble of his fallen home a while back, and the sight of Asgard up in flames doesn’t leave you all that easily. Loki’s made about a thousand promises to his brother’s respect and his mother’s memory and his father’s legacy that he won’t be the same jaded fool that he was before, that he’ll try and live a little better. He can’t break that word so quickly, can he?

Besides, it’s precisely because Loki is supposed to be doing better that he’s in a situation like this in the first place. After Asgard fell, Heimdall took them quickly to Earth after receiving some sort of premonition about which ways and enemies to avoid. The Asgardians set up shop in some corner of the world, doing their best to rebuild a golden city out of Norwegian stone and soot.

Loki isn’t entirely sure how well it’s going, though, because he’s long since left it. He tried to stay among his people, honestly he did, but it never quite stuck. He’d wake up in the middle of the night and feel this urge to go somewhere, to seek something or someone out. Before, he would have called it the need to run. Now, though, when he’s no longer in danger? Loki would consider it his birthright. He has always been the trickster, hasn’t he? When there’s no one to con or deceive, it almost feels as if he’s lost his purpose.

Thor noticed it too, after a time, and pulled some strings among the Avengers to set Loki up with a place on their team. They weren’t too happy about it in the beginning, Loki remembers with a fond smile, but after they realized that he was actually a fairly powerful ally when given the chance, they reluctantly opened their doors. Ever since then, Loki has been entertaining the regular mission and extraction opportunities. It feels strange to actually do good for someone else. Maybe it even feels nice.

Loki had stayed in New York for a while, even met some Midgardian woman and had a child. The woman is long gone, Loki doesn’t entirely know why, but his brother convinced him to keep the girl. Even without Thor’s urging, though, Loki wouldn’t have left her. He remembers all too well how it feels to be abandoned as a child, and the piercing hurt it can cause when you’re older.

Now, though, he’s pressed with the difficulties of caring for the child. Loki is called on enough missions that he can’t watch her all the time, so he has to find a suitable caregiver. At first, Loki scoffed at all of them. Why should he trust some mortal to hover by his half-god child’s bedside, administering primitive medications and having no clue how to deal with her?

He’d been forced to come to them after a while, though. In the end, Loki simply can’t afford to abandon either the missions or his child. He owes the mother that, at least. He owes it to his younger self, too, to do good on his promises that he’d be a better father than Odin if he was given the chance. In truth, Loki doesn’t know if he’ll break that promise or not, but he can at least try to uphold it for now.

Five minutes later, the babysitter finally arrives at the door, breathing heavily to show that she’s been rushing, although Loki can see the newly purchased cup of coffee in her car. It’s an early morning, to be sure, but still. Surely the coffee can wait when she’s already late for the job.

Loki arches a brow, but does his best to rein in his temper. “I’ll be out until the afternoon. There’s food inside, and a phone number to reach me.” 

The girl nods. “See you then.” 

Loki gives her one last suspicious glance, then turns to his child for a quick goodbye before leaving. Technically, this girl’s been vetted enough times by Fury and the rest for Loki to trust her, but he still has a hard time leaving his child with strangers.

However, the mission waits for no one, and he’s already running a little late because of the sitter, so Loki pushes down his doubts and strides briskly towards the door. Hopefully, the mission will end early so he can come back and make sure nothing amiss has happened.

This, unfortunately, appears not to be the case. Loki’s barely taken two weary steps inside his house at the end of the mission, wanting nothing more than to be alone, when the babysitter rushes up to him. He can tell by the blotchiness of her face and the red of her eyes that something has happened. That, combined with the fact that he cannot see his child within his immediate line of sight, makes Loki very, very worried.

Instantly, his spine straightens like an iron bar. “Where is she? Where is my daughter?” 

The sitter bursts into tears again. “I don’t know- I set her down on a bench in the park and looked away for two seconds, then she was gone. I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find her, and-” 

The sobs drown out her words, but Loki has already heard too much.

“You don’t mean to tell me that you’ve actually lost my daughter, have you? That was quite literally your one job, to keep her safe.” 

The girl weeps even harder, and Loki can feel a slight prickling at the back of his consciousness. The babysitter clearly tried to find her, and this doesn’t seem like an intentional malicious act, just a bit of carelessness.

So, Loki sighs, and does his best to be sympathetic. “There, don’t cry so much. Let’s go back to the park and find her, all right?” 

He calls the Avengers on the way over, despite his hesitancy to get them involved with his personal life. All the same, if this was a legitimate threat, like an enemy of his intentionally stole his child to cause him harm, the team would have to know.

By the time Loki arrives back at the park, still faintly crying babysitter in tow, the other Avengers are already there. They’ve donned the usual disguises of hoodies pulled tight over baseball caps to avoid attention, but they’re here nonetheless. Loki feels strangely grateful to see them.

They spread out without another word. Loki’s shown the Avengers a few photos of his daughter when absolutely forced to by either circumstance or Thor, so they should know what she looks like. Loki himself is scanning every face for some hint of somebody who knows too much or is pretending they know nothing at all, but he still comes up short.

The minutes continue, one after another, and Loki’s daughter is still missing. He can feel his heart rate rising as the time passes. What happens when it gets dark and she’s still gone? At what point do they realize she must have been taken by somebody? He can’t lose her, not like this.

Just when Loki swears he’s about to tear the place to the ground just so he can rebuild it and find his child, he turns around to see a young woman also searching the park, carrying a young girl in her arms. As Loki walks closer, he realizes that it’s his daughter, and his quick walk becomes a run. 

The woman looks up at the sound of his approaching footsteps, and smiles. “You must be the father, right?” 

She holds out his daughter to Loki, and he swears that he’s never felt more relieved in his life. “Yes. I believe I need to find a new babysitter, but thank you so much for helping her.” 

Truly, he’s never felt more grateful, and to a mortal of all people.

The woman smiles at him. For a second, Loki thinks he must still be reeling from the stress release of finding his daughter, because he swears that this woman might be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen in his entire life.

“Well, it’s no problem at all. She’s been asleep for a little bit now, and stopped crying once I found her.”

An idea is occurring to Loki now. It’s probably a terrible idea, probably one of the worst ideas he’s ever had, but still. If this woman was able to get his daughter to trust her so easily, and she’s already shown that she’s leagues above this past babysitter, why doesn’t Loki turn to her instead? Besides, he’s not entirely sure that he wouldn’t mind seeing her a little more often. Something about her smile, the way she talks to him free of fear, makes him feel, well, a little more human. Maybe that’s not a bad thing after all.

So, when the woman introduces herself as Y/N L/N and takes Loki up on his offer to act as a live-in nanny of sorts, Loki walks away from the park feeling almost good. Sure, he doesn’t let his daughter out of his sight for what feels like weeks, and he blocks the phone number of the previous babysitter with an almost frightening intensity, but he finds himself looking forward to the next month.

Y/N moves in a few weeks later. She’s glad for the job, because she was torn from her previous job and home in one fell swoop due to a freak fire, and Loki is glad for her, because he’s never seen his daughter trust someone so utterly other than himself in such a short period of time. After a while, Loki almost can’t remember a time when he didn’t come back from missions to be greeted by the two of them. It feels like a home, in a way. It feels good.

It’s after one of these such missions, when he’s still bleeding from wounds and Y/N rushes to him instantly with bandages and a worried look on her face, that Loki realizes he might have gone too far. For a moment there, he’d been hovering in the doorway, looking in on Y/N talking to his daughter with a smile. The lights had been on and cheery, there was food warm on the table, and he could almost delude himself into thinking that it was all meant to be.

But it isn’t, is it? At the end of the day, Loki is Y/N’s employer. Nothing more and nothing less. There is nothing keeping her here except the need to provide for her life. Yet when her eyes light with concern upon spotting his injuries, and when she spends a good deal of time checking in on him again and again to make sure his bandages are holding, Loki fools himself into believing that she could feel more for him than just friendship.

He must have been staring for too long, because Y/N glances up at him with that soft smile that he’s grown far too used to seeing. “Everything alright, Loki?” 

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of his doubts. “Yeah, I’m good. No need to worry.” 

Y/N raises an eyebrow. “I thought worrying was what you brought me on to do in the first place.”

Now that she mentions it, Loki notices a crease in her brow, one that wasn’t there an hour or so ago. “Are you alright, then?” 

Y/N hesitates, but at last she sits down opposite Loki and speaks, careful to keep her voice quiet so as not to wake the child sleeping down the hall. 

“Earlier tonight, when I was tucking your daughter into bed, she called me ‘Mama’.” 

That’s all she has to say. There’s a strange feeling in Loki’s chest, like he knows what’s about to happen but he has no way to stop it all the same. 

“Alright. And how do you feel about that?” 

Y/N sighs. “I don’t think it’s my opinion that really matters. If she’s seeing me as a maternal figure, then that must mean that I’m overstepping my boundaries or something. When that happened to my last few employers, they usually scaled back my hours or just let me go outright.”

Loki leans back against his chair. “Is that what you want? To go, I mean?” 

Y/N looks away from him. “I probably should.” 

There’s an icy calm descending over him, anything to drown out the hurt. “Why? I know I’m away at odd hours and all, but I thought-” 

Y/N cuts him off. She’s probably the only person he’d allow to do that.

“It’s not you, Loki. Trust me on that. It’s just- I know my role here, and I know how I feel about this place. About you. I don’t know that I can continue on and stay professional.” 

All of a sudden, Loki’s fears change into a brief, wild hope. “Then don’t stay professional. Stay with me, Y/N. Whatever that means for you.”

She looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “I have feelings for you, Loki. I don’t know how to say that in any other words. That means that I should go, right?” 

Loki reaches across the space between them to gently cup her cheek in one hand. “Not unless you want to, love. You wouldn’t be the only one with feelings to spare.”

For a moment, Y/N seems to deliberate, and then she smiles, even brighter than before. “I think that sounds good to me.” 

Before he can talk himself out of it, Loki leans forward and kisses her. Here, in his house, with the soft lights of the kitchen keeping the night at bay, it’s just the two of them. Soon enough, his daughter will wake up, and he knows then that it’ll be an actual family, the one he dreamed of having when he found out the truth of his parentage. For once, though, it will be a reality.

marvel tag list: maybe i am baby (can easily be lost in parks) @rogueanschel​, @mycosmicparadise​, @ellobruv-blog​, @caswinchester2000​

[therealvinelle]

Ok I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm just now copying your Norwegian Bella AU into a text translator, and if you don't already have 50 people in your inbox demanding a translation then shame on ALL OF US because this is glorious! And while Google Translate does have a certain charm (it translated "piper hun ut" as "she beeps") I'm curious to see how you'd put it in English.

Troquantary is referring to this post. In which Bella doesn't speak English.

Fun fact, you're the only one who's gone into my inbox to request this. I was so sad, had the translation half-written and everything, but I was too proud to beg. So thank you, Troquantary, for popping this ask.

As for the dictionary fuckups, sounds about right. I made a few typos, too, that made Google Translate suffer even more. (Such as managing to mix up "henne" (her) and "hendene" (hands), resulting in Aro patting Bella instead of clapping his hands. Poor Google.)

Also, there are a few cultural references and language things that would be lost in the translation, in an attempt to keep them I included notes clarifying things.

Some things, like Aro and Carlisle's very old man way of speaking, are easier said than done to translate, you'll have to bear with me there.

Additional notes are that I added a few things to this version, many of them because translating is hard, but a few because while translating I thought "oh you know what would be much funnier-" and then wrote that.

Alright, without further ado:

When Renée left Charlie she did not go to Florida, she went to Oslo. And she went all in to make her daughter a true Norwegian, hiring Norwegian nannies and making sure never to speak English around the child. Since transatlantic flights are expensive, little Bella Swan rarely got to visit her father, and as such she never did learn what should have been her native language.

She quickly forgot what English she did have in favor of Norwegian, with the exception of words like “Yes”, “No”, and “I’m Bella”.

The few trips she took to visit her father were all the more awkward than in canon since she couldn’t play with the Black kids. Let not the blame fall upon Charlie: he took Norwegian classes and speaks conversational Norwegian. He can’t speak to Renée, because her Norwenglish is incomprehensible even to Norwegians, but he can communicate with Bella.

Not that he’s had a lot of chances to do so.

Bella makes it to seventeen years old, she’s in second grade at Handels* and is a major outsider among the preps there, and then Renée marries a handsome skier**. Together they shall travel the continent all winter to participate in as many skiing races as they can, and in the summer they’ll take gigs at Hurtigruta to see the coast.

*“Handels” is the nickname for an Oslo high school infamous for its pupils being rich and beautiful blonds who are going to be CEOs when they grow up.

**Skiing as a sport is huge in Norway

***Hurtigruta is a famous ferry that travels across the Norwegian West coast

Bella, who sucks at skiing and is too young to work at Hurtigruten, takes the hint.

With dread in her stomach and dictionary in hand she goes to her father in America.

Where she doesn’t speak the language.

Faen.

Charlie gives her a car, and I wish this meta was set in the present because I could have joked about electric cars and the automat only driver’s license*, but Twilight is set in 2005 so I can’t. The car part proceeds without drama.

*An increasing number of Norwegian youth take the driver’s license for automatic cars only, and we’re the country in the world with the highest percentage of electric car purchases.

School is worse than in canon, because she is now a thousand times more sensational than if she was merely the new student. She is from another country! All of Forks keels over with excitement.

To make matters even worse, our girl doesn’t understand a word of what people are saying.

She is too awkward to let them know she doesn’t know English. It’d become a thing, and they might think she’s dumb. To be fair, it’s not good that she’s been through primary, secondary, and now a year and a half of high school and still sucks at English.

So she nods, smiles, mumbles “Hi, I’m Bella” to the new faces, and blushes heavily when anybody says anything.

People assume she’s shy. That’s a bit boring, but oh well.

She has her biology class with the redhead hottie she noticed during lunch. She watched him and his family, they were fascinatingly pretty, but she doesn’t know anything more about them. Sure would have been great if she could have asked the tiny girl (was it Jess?) about them.

Biology proceeds as in canon - Edward badly wants to eat the delicious girl, but fortunately doesn’t.

She runs into him in the office when he tries to switch to another biology lesson, but she has no idea what he’s saying so she only has the suspicion that this somehow concerns her. Which is still uncomfortable, but Bella is probably the problem here. The hottie surely can’t be.

He’s missing from school for a week, Bella finds that weird.

He returns, and to her great horror he starts talking to her.

“Hello”, he says.

Bella dies inside. He’s too handsome!

"I'm Edward Cullen," he continues, and ok, she got that. The hottie is called Edward, that’s good to know. She’s not sure she caught that last name, though, Köln?

He says something else, it’s gibberish to Bella even though she’s concentrating, and at the end there he says “Bella Swan”.

She gulps.

"I'm Bella Swan," she confirms and nods. That should be correct. God, she hopes it’s correct.

He smiles a crooked, boyish smile. She’s awed. She didn’t think it was possible to be so beautiful.

He says something else.

Bella didn’t catch it.

She blushes even harder, she hasn’t been more embarrassed in her life. Here he is, the most handsome guy in all the world, and she has nothing to say to him. Literally, they don’t speak the same language.

She should tell him.

It’s one thing to chicken out of telling the town she doesn’t speak English, but there’s something different about Edward Cullen. He deserves the truth.

But...

He’s the most beautiful person she has seen in her life. He is American, too, so the odds of him knowing Norwegian are microscopical. If he finds out she doesn’t understand a word he says he’ll stop talking to her, and selfish as she is she doesn’t want that.

So with a slightly guilty conscience (but not enough to fess up) she contributes to the conversation with enough words and smiles to pull through. "Yes", "No", "Thank you", and "That's nice".

He is surprised by several of these answers, but instead of giving her odd looks and losing interest he grows more invested in the conversation.

Class ends.

The next day the near accident happens, and he saves her. She is stunned - dear god, did he just pick up a whole car? After teleporting across the parking lot..?

Soon she’s in the ER, and more than a little bit stressed about that fact since she knows the Americans have a terrible healthcare system.

She hopes Charlie has an insurance.

An insanely beautiful man walks into the ER, and Bella is shocked. He is just as handsome as Edward and Edward’s lunch friends!

He introduces himself as Carlisle Cullen, and Bella can only assume this is someone’s older brother. Possibly related to the blonde girl.

He smiles at her, says something, and she answers, "I'm Bella Swan."

He frowns.

That must have been the wrong answer, then.

His hands return to investigating her scalp, and to her great surprise he switches to perfect Norwegian, "kjenner De* noe ubehag når jeg holder her?" Do you feel any discomfort when I touch here?

*De is the Norwegian polite pronoun for “you”. Du = thou = the French tu, and De = you = the French vous. These polite pronouns went out of use in the 1980’s, save for when addressing royal persons, and would be considered antiquated in 2005.

He hurries to add, "Norsk lærte jeg i... fjor sommer. Det var et nettkurs." I learned Norwegian… last year. Online class.

"Hvilket da?" Which one? Bella asks, because Charlie needs to hear about this. The doctor has beautiful, if slightly outdated, pronunciation.

The doctor’s smile turns uncertain. She gets the feeling there’s something he doesn’t want to say. "Husker ikke," I don’t remember, sier han etter en litt vel lang pause.

That’s a shame. And weird.

"De hadde hellet med Dem i dag, som ikke ble truffet av den bilen." You were lucky today, not getting hit by that car. he then says, noticeably changing the subject.

"Det var ikke hell, det var Edward," It wasn’t luck, it was Edward, she replies sharply.

The doctor definitely looks uncomfortable.

She continues, "Han krysset skolegården på et blunk, og plukket opp hele bilen. Jeg så det," He crossed the schoolyard in a moment, and picked up the whole car. I saw it,

The doctor laughs. "Om han kunne det hadde nok gymkarakteren hans vært meget bedre. Nei, frøken Swan*, jeg beklager å si at det høres ut som at De er litt omtåket. Det er helt normalt ved hjernerystelse." If he could do that, his PE grade would be a lot better. No, Miss Swan, I’m sorry to say you seem confused. That’s normal with concussions.

*Addressing a young woman as “frøken” is even more outdated than using polite pronouns.

Why does Bella get the feeling he’s lying?

She’s discharged.

We’ll jump ahead to her trip to La Push - that trip uneventful, since Jacob knows she doesn’t speak English. They stick their hands in their pockets and stare at the sea.

The next day she’s shanghaied to Port Angeles, because apparently she said “Yes” at the wrong time when talking to Jessica (Turns out Jess’s name was Jessica!) and accidentally said yes to a day trip to Port Angeles.

Like in canon she wanders away from the others, and as in canon she is nearly gang raped. And again as in canon she is saved at the last moment by Edward.

He buys her dinner, and she can’t believe her own luck- and misfortune. A date with the most handsome guy on the planet (hence the luck) and she can’t say a word to him (hence the misfortune)!

He says things to her, lends her his jacket, and really this is it for Bella, she’s peaked, life can’t get better than this.

(That’s a lie, it would be better if she spoke English.)

He’s so amazing.

She’s gotten pretty good at navigating conversations with him, so she nods and aha’s her way through.

In his car on the way home the tone takes a more serious turn.

He asks her about something, and it’s a serious question, that much she’s gathered. She answers in the confirmative.

He is silent.

Did she say anything wrong?

(Edward, on his end, just asked if she knows what he is. She said yes, so calmly, not even a trace of fear in her.)

A few days later he takes her out on a walk in the woods.

He shows her a meadow in the woods, and when he steps into it he lights up in the sunlight.

Bella is in shock.

She knew there was something different about him, but- holy cow. This guy isn’t human.

Is she dating a god?

She stumbles into the clearing after him, and they spend a day together where he says things, and she can barely hear any of it (nevermind understand it) because she’s so distracted by how pretty he is.

The next day he takes her to a house in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t want to guess that this can be where he lives. Surely gods don’t live in houses?

He shows her inside the house, and introduces her for Dr. Cullen and a lady with a name she doesn’t catch.

Bit weird that these two are acting like a couple of parents, they’re far too young and divine for that.

Edward shows her around in an old-fashioned office, and she doesn’t know what to make of i when she sees a painting of Carlisle. Edward launches into a long story when he sees her watching it, unfortunately she doesn’t catch any dates or artist names. At one point she heard the word “suicide”, though, and that’s not good.

She doesn’t get much out of the story.

The baseball game doesn’t happen because Bella didn’t pick up on what Edward wanted and didn’t realize she was being invited to a thing. They spend the afternoon watching a movie instead.

The relationship continues, impeded slightly by communication problems, but she’s mostly able to cover those up.

Until her birthday comes around.

She gets a papercut.

Jasper lunges at her. Edward throws her into a glass table, and then everyone is leaving.

Carlisle is kind enough to switch to Norwegian when he’s stitching up her arm, perhaps remembering the last time she was his patient. "Jasper har ikke vært på dietten vår så veldig lenge." Jasper hasn’t been on our diet for very long.

"Diett?"she asks. She’s never seen Edward eat anything. She wasn’t clear on what the Cullens ate, honestly she thought they were above such things. She was thinking maybe photosynthesis. The knowledge that they apparently eat food astounds her, but diets?

"Dyreblod istedenfor menneskeblod," Animal blood in stead of human blood, Carlisle clarifies.

Whachasay?

Carlisle gives a slight smile. “Jaspers liv som vampyr fikk en brutal start." Jasper’s life as a vampire got off to a brutal start.

...

Vampire?!

Bella’s missed something here.

Oh dear lord, oh fy faen, she has missed something.

“Åja”, uh huh, is all she can say, and suddenly she’s very aware of the fact that she’s sitting there with a bleeding arm.

And Carlisle.

Who is a vampire.

Over the course of the following conversation Bella makes a host of discoveries.

Edward has been a vampire this whole time, and he’s a telepathic vampire. Whether Bella should be a vampire too or not has been a matter of hot debate, but due to religious reasons Edward doesn’t want that.

Carlisle also brings up how Edward died of the Spanish flu.

"Jeg var under den oppfatning at Edward fortalte deg bakhistorien min?" I was under the impression Edward told you my back story? Carlisle asks at one point, and Bella just has to ask very nicely if he’d be so kind as to repeat it.

Turns out the guy is nearly four hundred years old.

Jaha.

Jahahaha jaa ha.

That’s… a lot.

She wanders out of the house in shock, and hardly notices Edward’s strange behavior over the next couple of days.

One day he picks her up at school, and takes her behind the house.

That works out.

He’s a vampire, but he never hurt her. He is endlessly beautiful, perhaps easier to love now that she knows he’s not a god. He’s her Edward, and that’s suddenly easier now that she knows.

They can still be together.

But now that she knows this about him, it’s about time he knows something about her as well.

It’s time to finally be honest with him.

So when he opens his mouth, she opens her mouth as well, but she doesn’t get any further than to “Edward-” before he launches into a monologue.

She’ll have to wait until he’s done before saying her piece. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it doesn’t seem like he intends to stop talking anyway.

And what he’s saying seems to be serious, so it’s probably best to let him finish.

Edward concludes his monologue by kissing her forehead. Then he disappears.

Where did he go?

A big unsure, Bella goes back to the house. She’ll just have to wait until he gets back.

She doesn’t know what to think when Charlie returns from work and tells her the Cullens have all left.

Oh, god.

Edward must have found out she doesn’t speak English.

She made a mockery of him.

He has every right to leave.

Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

Bella sinks into a depression.

The hallucinations begin, as in canon, though Hallusinward speaks Norwegian. Thank god for small mercies.

The friendship with Jacob (dictionary in hand) blooms, as someone has to help her see those hallucinations.

The cliff diving happens, and Alice shows up. Bella’s not sure what this is about, but she has gotten good enough at English to know that something bad happened, and Alice wants them to do something.

She’s a bit surprised to find herself on a plane to Italy, though.

Alice tells her to “Run to Edward” and ok, she got that, actually.

So she saves Edward.

After that she’s taken into the sewer, which turns out to house dozens of vampires.

Bella, Edward, and Alice are received in some kind of hall, where an unusual vampire has quite a bit to say. She understands some of what he’s saying, at least the part about “la tua cantante”. She knows a bit about Italian, see, so she knows that he’s talking about a song now.

She wishes she knew the context.

At one point he takes her hand, and appears fascinated by it. She wonders if he’s a palmreader. Not very vampirey, but what does she know.

He asks her a question.

"Yes," she says.

Saying yes has gotten her this far, after all.

But when he lights up and claps his hands together, and Edward and Alice stare at her in shock and betrayal, she knows she must have said the wrong thing.

The two are dismissed from the room before Bella can do or say anything, she’s just listening to Edward make a racket outside in the hallway.

Not good.

The unusual vampire brings her further down in his sewer palace to a basement, and she is given comfortable clothes to wear.

This is getting terrifying.

The vampire leans towards her - and she chickens out.

"Jeg snakker ikke engelsk!" she squeaks. "Non habla ingles!" I don’t speak English.

Han stanser, og ser forvirret ut. "Que- Hva behager*?" I beg your pardon? spør han etter et øyeblikk.

*A very formal, and slightly outdated (you can use it, but people will think you’re putting on airs. And they will be right) way of saying “excuse me?”

Sobbing, Bella tells him the whole story, from how she didn’t want to be the weird kid in school to how she’s now somehow in Italy without knowing why nor what she just agreed to.

When she’s done the vampire starts laughing.

"Dette forklarer jo en hel del," This explains quite a bit, ler han. "Men, kjære Bella, jeg er redd det ikke endrer noe." But, my dear Bella, I’m afraid it changes nothing.

He tells her that she has agreed to serve him and his army of undead warriors into eternity.

Well fuck.

"Du skal få slippe det, når du ikke visste hva du samtykket til - men skjebnen din forblir den samme. Loven er loven." You’re released from that promise, as you didn’t know what you agreed to - but your fate remains the same. The law is the law.

After a moment of silence, during which she looks terrified, he hurries to add, "Vi har en lov. Du må bli en av oss." We have a law. You must become one of us.

A law that Bella Swan has to become a vampire?

People are finally speaking Norwegian, and Bella is still lost. And it’s too embarrassing to keep pestering this poor, polite man with questions.

So she nods.

He gives her a glittering smile, and bites her.

When she wakes, Aro offers her an English course. A language course that, naturally, leads to her staying in Volterra. Why not learn a few more languages while we’re at it, dearest Bella?

Some time later Edward breaks into Volterra to save his Rapunzel, only to barely recognize her now that she’s a vampire who says things. Lots of things, she talks all the time now. WHAT DID ARO DO TO HER.

Too mortified to admit that she never spoke English, Bella claims she’s been brainwashed.

Aro is having too much fun to correct her, and the whole sad affair sets off a regrettable flood of rumors.

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 4

Chapter 1     Chapter 3

“We have a problem,” Tim grumbled as he stumbled into the dining room.  He threw the morning newspaper down on the table, letting it slide the last few feet until it stopped millimeters short of Bruce’s coffee.

Bruce sputtered his eggs and grabbed the paper, staring at the picture of him speaking with Marinette and Adrien that took up the entire front page above the fold.  He threw the paper back on the table.  “Son of a b…”

“We’ve been getting calls from PR all morning,” Tim interrupted him before Alfred got upset with Bruce for his language. “Because they’ve been getting calls from every newspaper, news station, blog, and interested citizen in the world, calling to ask them about it.”  

Tim poured himself a large cup of coffee, larger than usual.  He’d had patrol last night and gotten woken up at the crack of dawn this morning with calls about the story. So he was running on all of three hours of sleep and just wanted to crawl back into bed, but with this story, there was no chance of him getting to bed until after tonight’s patrol had already left.

It didn’t help that he was beating himself up for not picking up on the cues she was giving that night.  He’d run into her.  He and Stephanie had talked to her.  He saw her freeze up when she realized who he was.  He knew she was acting off, he just hadn’t thought it was nefarious.  If anything, it seemed hurt, not scared.  He should have caught onto her body language. He should have noticed how she seemed to freeze when he mentioned the family.  She must have thought he was fishing, letting her know he was onto her and her plan to do this.  

“You’d think after all the false alarms they’ve reported in the past that they’d know better by now.  Not every black haired, blue eyed child is a Wayne.  I’ve had PR draft up a statement that while we appreciate her support for the orphans, she is not, in fact, a Wayne,” he finished, taking a bite of his muffin, missing Bruce’s grimace.

Damian grabbed the paper, wrinkling it in his clenched fists as he scanned the text.  “She must have orchestrated the whole thing to put this out.  How else would they know these details?”

“No,” Dick commented thoughtfully, prying the paper away from Damian to take a look at the picture.  “If she was in on it she would have put on a better act.  Look at the image.  She isn’t playing into it.  She looks scared, not excited to ‘introduce her fiancé to her family’.” Dick quoted. He briefly scanned the paper for more information.

All the evidence appeared to be the picture, her physical features, and some call logs to her parent’s business.  Dick scrunched up his face with concern.  While not damning, it was interesting.  He didn’t know any reason Bruce would have to contact a bakery in Paris.  “Not to mention the story would have gone out yesterday for a bigger circulation boost. Sundays are the big press days. They wouldn’t have waited until Monday. That suggests they researched, or rather stole the information.  And no quotes from her in here.”

“Fine,” Damian growled, acquiescing to his logic. “Maybe she did it after the fact. She saw the opportunity and took it.”

“No,” Bruce admitted quietly.  “She wouldn’t have had to do that.”  The room seemed to become still as everyone turned to face him.  “If she wanted this story to go out she could have put it out at any time.  And she would have played up the dance, would have sought me out at the gala.  But she didn’t.”

“What dance?” Duke asked cautiously, his focus entirely on Bruce now.

“I asked her to dance.  She said no.  Ran away as quickly as she could actually,” Bruce chuckled self-deprecatingly as he stared at the paper in Dick’s hands.

Damian blinked at him as though the longer he stared the clearer what was happening would become.  But no matter how hard he stared, the image didn’t become clearer. If anything, things became hazier. “This could all be a clever ruse. She wants to appear innocent so when you confront her she can point out that she didn’t do those things.  It says she’s an aspiring designer.  This could all be for publicity.”

“She wouldn’t have to go through all that,” Bruce stated again, more finality in his voice.  He finally looked up, but still didn’t make eye contact with any of them.

Dick stared at Bruce, taking in his response, letting the words and their broader meaning sink in.  The words he wasn’t saying hung in the room like thick smoke, winding their way into everything they touched, stealing the air out of the room.  “What are you saying Bruce?” Dick asked cautiously

“The story’s true, isn’t it,” Tim observed.  It was a statement more than a question.  

Bruce nodded with a sigh.  “Except for the meeting her fiancé part.”

Tim knew it was true even before Bruce’s verbal acknowledgement.  The pieces suddenly fit together.  It was the only thing that made sense.  That’s why her reactions were off.  That matched.   He saw her face when they told her the gala was to celebrate family.  He saw her body language change sharply when Stephanie joked about Bruce taking in everyone he saw.  He wasn’t sure what to make of it at the time and didn’t really even try because it didn’t seem relevant and they had more important issues to think about, namely celebrating Duke.  After the story, he thought the reactions were a tell.  But now… now that he knew, they were a tell, but for something else entirely.

She was trying to be polite about it, not letting on how hard it was hitting.  And oh God, didn’t that make it worse.  Everything they said had been cordial, joking at Bruce’s expense, at their own expense. But with the new knowledge… it was at hers.  They weren’t jokes, they were digs.  They were attacks.  They were him putting her ‘in her place’; out of the family.  Tim took in a shuttering breath and collapsed on the couch, his head in his hands.

He would have so much to apologize for.  He would have to find her and make sure she knew he didn’t mean his words the way they must have come across.  He knew how it felt to not be accepted.  He knew how it felt to not feel loved by your parents. He knew how it felt to have your place in the family questioned constantly, to be attacked, to be unwelcome. He wouldn’t wish that on enemies, let alone family.

“Who is she, Father?” Damian demanded.

Bruce met his eyes, guilt swimming in his own.  “She’s your half-sister.  Her mother and step-father have been raising her in Paris,” Bruce answered calmly.

Damian fought the gasp his lungs demanded against his will.  His father was confirming it.  He was acknowledging her.  But never trusted them with the information.  “Were you ever going to tell us?” Damian finally asked with forced coolness

“I was letting the dust settle on introducing Duke before I broached it,” Bruce hedged.

“So you just found out,” Damian asked angrily.  That would make sense.  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, him.  It was that he didn’t know until recently.  Of course that was what happened.

“No.”

Damian gaped at him, his hastily built protective construct shattering with one word.  “How long have you known?”

“Since she was born.”  Damian gaped at him.  He’d known. He’d known since before Damian came to live with them and still never told them.  He didn’t trust him.  Even after all he’d done, he still didn’t trust him.  And now he was letting this unknown, this daughter, even just thinking the word made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, do whatever she wanted.  He trusted her but not him.

“You have a daughter, a biological daughter you’ve known about for decades and that you never told us about,” Dick asked again in a daze.  He fell into a chair staring at Bruce incredulously.  There was no way.  He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.  He loved kids.  He loved his kids.  Why would he send one away?  He hadn’t even wanted to do that to Jason.

“So I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know?” Duke asked. He looked around, taking in the stunned, disbelieving, hurt expressions.

“Not just you,” Damian gritted out.  

Duke sucked in a breath and pulled out his phone, texting Jason and Cass to let them know what was happening.  They were going to want to know as soon as possible too. All of them were going to have questions and issues with this information.  And if the conversation went on much longer, they may want to be involved.

“Why was she there last night?  What did she want?  Surely she wouldn’t have come without a plan,” Damian pressed.  Nobody had access to the kind of power and money they had and just walked away.  If she was presenting herself and not to them, to the press, there must be a reason, a plot.  They needed to find out more about her to figure it out.  “How did she get a ticket in the first place?”  That might be a place to start.  It would give an insight into her accomplices and they could be pressed later for more information.

Bruce sighed and looked back down at his food, pushing the plate away, no longer hungry in the slightest.  “I can’t answer how she got her ticket.  As to why she was there, she was there to talk about a position for a friend of hers… with Lucius apparently, not me.”

“She was using her name to get her subpar friend a job,” Damian spat in disgust.  There had to be more though.  With their name, she could get much, much more.  This had to be an opening gambit.  The job must be placing an operative, loyal to her, within their institution.  Next was the stunt with the press.  They needed to figure out her next steps.

“No,” Bruce insisted.  “She didn’t mention her association.  He doesn’t know… well, he does now.  He spoke to me after the gala, said he discovered one of our managers is stealing ideas and there was someone he was going to spend the weekend researching but he was excited about hiring him.  Luthor is trying to hire him, so if we don’t act fast we’ll lose him.  I’m betting that was her friend.”

“You don’t know that,” Damian growled out.  “That could be a coincidence.”

“I’ll confirm with Lucius today, but it fits with what I know,” Bruce insisted calmly.  “From what her mother has told me over the years, it’s the kind of thing she would do; go well out of her way to help a friend.  And her mother let me know she was planning on attending the gala to talk about hiring her friend.  I just thought she was going to talk to me.”

“Why didn’t you tell us,” Dick asked breathlessly. He was staring at Bruce with hurt saturating his eyes.  He heard nothing after Bruce admitting he’d known about her and never told them.  He was aware Bruce had been saying things for the last few minutes but none of it had registered.  None of it was what he needed to know.  

Bruce sighed and ran his hand over his face.  “Nobody knew.  Nobody but me and her mother and step-father.  It was easier that way.”  Easier to pretend was left unsaid.  Easier for Bruce to pretend like he hadn’t cut her out of his life, like he didn’t regret it every day.  Easier for Bruce to try to forget.

“Not even her?” Duke asked.

“Not even her,” Bruce confirmed with a sigh.  He ran his hand over his face.

“Why?”  Dick was staring at him in wide eyed confusion.  It didn’t make sense.  None of it made sense.  He’d been with Bruce for twenty years and never heard a whisper of a biological daughter. But she existed.  And he knew.  Bruce took a deep breath and Dick scowled.  “I swear to God, B, if you say some dumbass excuse like to protect her…”

“She has a happy life.  Her mother and step-father love her beyond words.  They support her, love her, encourage her.  They’re there for her whenever she needs it.  They never miss an event.  Family dinners every night.  She has friends… a good life.  She’s safe.  She never had to worry about defending herself.  She never had to be taught what to do when she got kidnapped.  Never had to… doesn’t remember seeing the people around her dead from the latest rogue attack.  Not like what she would have here…” he again left the last part of the sentence off. The “with me” was left for everyone to fill in on their own.

“You’re a good father,” Tim assured him weakly, because at this point, with this information…

“I hope so.”  Bruce gave him a weak smile.  “But when she was born…  I had an obligation.  I had a responsibility.”

“She was your responsibility!” Dick yelled, his face suddenly contorting in anger and frustration with Bruce.

Bruce looked away stoically, face suddenly a mask devoid of emotion.  “She had a better option and I made sure she got it.”

The room was silent for a few moments while his words settled in.  The only sound was Dick seething in his seat.  “But she doesn’t know you?  You never visited.  You never interacted with her.  Even not telling her who you were to her,” Tim clarified.

Bruce shook his head.  “I visited her final project for her degree a few weeks ago under the guise of research for the fabric project.  She’s a designer.  I was hoping to get her in on the fabric project.  I thought it would be a good cover to get her comfortable with the family. But I didn’t talk with her while I was there.”  He chuckled slightly at the memory.  “I couldn’t even get close.  There were too many people talking to her, congratulating her, offering her internships. Her work was beautiful.”

“But you’ve talked with her parents,” Tim checked.

He sighed and waved his hand helplessly.  “I spoke with Sabine every so often to check on Marinette, make sure she was okay.  I helped pay for her schooling, but even that was disguised as an investment into her parents’ company.”

“So her parents were having you pay for their company, holding the secret over your head,” Damian spat out.

“No!” Bruce growled.  He knew Damian was having a hard time with this.  Hell, that’s one of the main reasons he waited so long, because he knew Damian wouldn’t react well.  Damian would have taken it as an attack on his position in the family.  And after the way he treated Tim and Dick when he first found out about them… They could protect themselves against his attacks. She wouldn’t have been able to. He didn’t know how far Damian would actually go and he didn’t want Damian to have to find out either.  He had been waiting until Damian was more settled, more secure in the family and their unconditional love for him before he reached out to her.  But he wasn’t going to let him disparage Sabine and Tom.  They’d been nothing but understanding.

“They only let me put in the amount for tuition. They wouldn’t allow me to give any more than that and Marinette got a scholarship for her university so she didn’t need any assistance.  I tried to keep giving them money for her to at least have spending money but they refused. They stopped accepting the transfers. They only relented when I said it would look suspicious.  So they’ve been creating a trust for her with it.”

Damian grumbled and looked away.  Whatever their game was, they were certainly good at it.

Bruce dropped his head into his hands.  “Nobody was supposed to know about her until I was sure it was safe,” Bruce grumbled into his hands.  “Until I’d had a chance to talk to everyone about it.”

“Well now everyone knows, so maybe now is a good time to start trying to make that connection,” Dick growled.

“If she’ll let us,” Tim added.  He remembered the look in her eyes when he talked about his… their family.  

“It’s never too late to start trying to bond,” Dick insisted.  His eyes were bordering on wild.  They could bring this back, right?  The family had come back from worse.  They’d faced steeper hills.  Hell, Damian tried to kill them when he first came.  Jason had also tried to kill them all more than once when he came back. She couldn’t be that bad.  They just had to make the first move.  “We just have to let her know we want to.”

Tim shook his head and looked down, not at all convinced it really was as easy as that.  Tim was awkward on a good day.  He could make friends but usually they made the first move.  He was pretty certain she wouldn’t make the first move in this instance.  Damian wouldn’t accept her, period.  Dick would crowd her.  Jason would… whatever Jason did, probably disappear.  She wasn’t a Robin so he probably wouldn’t try to kill her.  Cass would try, but her success depended on Marinette understanding what Cass wasn’t saying.  And Bruce… Bruce was never good at understanding emotions or sympathizing. Honestly, their best hope was Duke.

Duke breathed out a deep sigh and looked away. This family was not easy to get along with or find your place with.  And bonding with each other?  He managed because he fought next to them.  They bonded in the field, in their suits.  He wasn’t sure if they realized that about themselves.  If they interacted outside the suits it was because of the bond they formed inside them.  She wouldn’t have that opportunity and without it…  The prognosis was not good.

“What are you going to do, B?” Tim asked tentatively. “Because whatever your plans were, now she knows and she’s dealing with it on her own.  She… You need to talk to her.”

Bruce sucked in a breath and massaged his temples.  “I know.”  

“And you need to apologize,” Dick added firmly.

Bruce nodded.  “I know.”

“No, you don’t,” Dick growled.  “You have no idea what has to be going through her head right now.”  He grabbed his bag and stalked out of the manor, slamming the door as he left.

“And you need to decide what we’re going to tell the public,” Tim added.  “We need to put a statement out soon.”

“I know,” Bruce agreed.  His voice this time was more detached.  That was something he would have to decide, but that wasn’t the priority right now and not something he wanted to do without her input.  

He needed to come up with a new plan and quickly. This was nothing like the one he had come up with.  He was supposed to have more time.  He was supposed to be able to ease into this.  He was supposed to be able to feel things out before deciding a path.  He was supposed to control the environment and how his family found out.  

But now he was thrown into it, they all were, and he had no idea how to proceed.  He didn’t know her well enough to anticipate how she would react to the situation or to him. He didn’t know her well enough yet to know the best way to approach her.  He needed to come up with a game plan.  He sighed heavily.  He had to get into the office, not show anything out of the ordinary.  And once he was behind his office door, he could talk to Sabine.  She would know what to do.

Chapter 5

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm @jayjayspixiepop @redscarlet95 @alice-hazelwood @deathssilentapproach-blog @unoriginalmess @alyssadeliv @emotionalsupportginger @frieddonutsweets @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @toodaloo-kangaroo @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @iloontjeboontje @wolf-for-life @maribatserver

[ariapmdeol]

introducing @gavinom​ and I’s DSMP Parahuman AU!! This is a superpowers AU based on Worm, a web serial by wildbow!!

This is a superpowers AU,,, with a VERY complicated story. There are 3 or 4 main POV/plotlines:

Tommy and Tubbo’s plotline

Techno and Phil’s plotline

Dream’s plotline

Wilbur’s plotline

also niki’s plotline bc i appreciate her so much

they’re all very heavily interconnected! There’s a connection chart here, but there’s much more detailed explanations under the cut!

basic worldbuilding info: the city that this story focuses on (Dream SMP) is run by the Dream Team! They’re a group of villains who took over the city after it was being badly mismanaged by corrupt officials. Dream has connections to Cauldron (human experimentation group looking to create artificial powers). SBI + everyone else all live in this city! Powers are common and have a classification system shown below, and people with powers are called Capes! Capes are divided into Heroes, Villains, and Rogues (who are neither heroes or villains). People get powers when they experience an emotionally charged or traumatic event or events called a Trigger Event! These events shape what kind of power the cape gains!

SBI Tommy and Wilbur are both Philza’s biological kids! Philza is a researcher with long hours, Wilbur takes care of Tommy, but all of them have something else going on! ages: Tommy: 16 wilbur: 21 philza minecraft: early 40′s?

PHILZA - Mover 4 Philza is a researcher working for an organization called Cauldron. Cauldron is experimenting on people in order to understand and create powers artificially! As he ends up more and more involved with both the research on powers and the affected people (called Case 53′s), including technoblade, he decides that he cannot tolerate this anymore, and plans to break techno and others out! He steals a vial labelled ‘Zephyrus’, drinks it, and ends up with wings! He and techno break out, unlock a ton of other cells (including Ranboo’s!), and end up on the run. However, both his sons are left behind... After months of being on the run, he and Techno finally decide that it’s safe enough to return. But hang on, why is the house so empty? And did someone just open the door?

Technoblade - Tinker, Brute 3 technoblade is one of Cauldron’s Case 53′s! His power is a Tinker power, which means that he can invent things! However, he can only invent what chat decides is necessary. This is seen as an EXTREMELY overpowered and rare ability. Most Tinkers have some kind of specialty that they’re limited to, or some other restriction that limits their Ability-Driven inventiveness. Techno’s only limit is his Chat, which can be convinced into a certain direction. He also has had a lot of physical changes like gaining claws, tusks, hooves, and a tail! Techno also has increased regeneration and resistance! He’s fiercely overprotective of Phil and the two of them are best friends! After months on the run, he and Phil return to Phil’s home, but something is off... Is that a Tinker’s lab?!

Tommy - Trump 6 and Tubbo - Tinker (Drones), Master 3 Tommy’s plotline is technically our main POV! He really admires his older brother a ton! Philza’s spent a lot of time away from home, so Wilbur ended up looking after Tommy a lot, especially after Phil went missing... wonder where he went? About a month after Phil vanished, Wilbur starts spending a lot of time away from home too, so Tommy spends most of his time with Tubbo! When Tubbo got his powers, it was... not a good day. Tubbo hadn’t been having an easy time at school, and it all kind of... got to be too much, so he triggered. However, they both quickly realized that Tubbo had gotten a Tinker power! He creates and can manipulate Drones without a remote being necessary! The two of them immediately decided to become heroes, and started making costumes and hero names and stopping minor crime! Very quickly though, they got into a situation that was too much for them. Tubbo got badly injured, and Tommy triggered his ability for the first time. Tommy has the ability to boost the abilities of people he cares about! He makes them stronger and loosens some of the restrictions on their powers. Tommy and Tubbo continue trying to be heroes when they come across Ranboo, and take him home with them! Hm? it looks like someone else is inside already, who could that be?

Wilbur - Master 4, Thinker 3 Wilbur is a very charismatic and scheming character! He cares a ton about his family, and does his best to look after Tommy. He’s bitter and angry at Phil for essentially leaving him to take care of Tommy so often, and he triggered after Phil’s funeral, over a month after Phil first vanished. His ability is illusion based! He can project illusions into someone’s mind, and can read people very VERY well. He realizes that his power is definitely a powerful one, and ends up becoming a villain! He goes to Dream, and asks for some territory to prove himself as a leader (and bc villainy is profitable shhh). Dream agrees, and Phantasm becomes leader of a territory called L’Manburg. On his villain team are niki, eret, and fundy! He doesn’t want to involve Tommy or Tubbo in this whole thing, and he has no idea that either of them are Capes. He ends up spending more and more time outside the house and running his territory. Fundy ends up looking up to him as a sort of older brother/father figure, and when Fundy ends up without a place to go, Wilbur sets him up in their villain HQ! When he comes home, he immediately notices something is up. His power had suddenly gotten... stronger? He opens the door and sees...Philza? 

Dream - Master 7, Tinker(?), Striker 2 Dream has the power to possess objects that he touches! He uses this +  custom Puppets to act as the unkillable leader of the Dream Team! Dream is heavily involved with Cauldron, and personally oversaw Ranboo’s experimentation. He and Philza knew each other as civilians, and he knows that Philza stole a serum from Cauldron, but Phil doesn’t know that he’s Dream, just that he works for Cauldron! Sapnap and George both don’t know about his involvement in Cauldron, though. Dream is looking for Techno, and wants to convince him to get on his side. He has yet to meet someone who can beat him and his ability, after all! That’s part of why he gives Wilbur territory to look after so easily - he’s confident in his ability to take Wilbur down. However, things might be more difficult than he assumes... As a bit of a side note, both Awesamdude and 5up are rogues, but he hires both of them for jobs and such!

OTHER STUFF THAT I HAVEN’T QUITE PLANNED OUT AS MUCH IN DETAIL:

fundy and 5up are in a ML style love square! 5up has a crush on Fundy’s villain identity, while Fundy has a crush on 5up’s civilian identity!

niki and ranboo are siblings! she became a villain with Wilbur to look for him. Ranboo has been missing for a very VERY long time, and doesn’t remember anything before Cauldron!

5up also tends to help out Tommy and Tubbo a lot? He saved them from a situation that was UH.. VERY OUT OF THEIR LEAGUE pretty early on, and decided “welp time to become a big brother”! he’s been teaching them how to fight, and Tubbo is really having fun with it

all the plotlines collide on the same night. Phil and Techno come home at the same night that Tommy and Tubbo are bringing Ranboo home, Wilbur’s been out for the past week and is only now JUST coming home after getting Fundy settled, and none of them know about the other person’s powers at all

it’s CHAOS because Phil’s been assumed dead and has just come back with WINGS and a tall and intimidating Technoblade, who immediately pulls a sword on them, Tommy and Tubbo still are in costume, Ranboo recognizes Techno and Phil as the guys who broke him out, and WILBUR is realizing that he’s missed a hell of a lot

and NO ONE KNOWS that ranboo is the one niki is looking for! not even ranboo

theres like. a whole timeline to this that i still need to draw/write out but TRUST US WE HAVE A PLAN

George is a Precog who gets prophetic dreams! They’re primarily impressions though, and he’s ended up in someone else’s dreams a couple times... If he uses his ability too much, he gets insomnia!

karl and quackity are both there too i just havent planned their part yet!!

sapnap is a high Breaker/Brute/Striker cape, I just haven’t narrowed down the specifics yet!

[peonysink]

Home (Happiness)

Part XI

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pairing: Commander Cody x f.reader

Summary: Well.... here we are, finally :)

Warning: 18+, NSFW, PiV sex, mention of divorce

Days dragged on, and you managed to find some kind of routine to keep you busy. A month passed since you visited Eleny at the hospital, and you had no idea what had happened to her since then. You considered contacting Fox, but then you decided against it. Somehow you were afraid that whatever he’d be able to tell you would upset you since she made it quite clear that you should stay away from her. 

In the meantime, Leonid had disappeared. He hadn’t been back to your apartment since the night he told you it was over - or at least you hadn’t seen him since. You noticed that someone visited the apartment while you were at work a few times - probably himself or his assistant, but more and more of his clothes were missing along with some of his personal items. You also considered contacting him, but you realised that you simply needed time, and you assumed that he did as well. There was nothing else to discuss in terms of saving your marriage - and that was clear enough. You didn’t miss him - perhaps because coming home from work and not finding him there wasn’t something particularly new. That has been your life for years now. There was nothing to save in your marriage since the marriage ended much earlier than you both realised  - and that much was clear now. All that was left now was figuring out the practicalities. Where would you live? How would you divide the assets? Who was going to make the first move? When should you hire a lawyer? But all of those things were quite complicated and life-changing that you needed time to gather the strength to deal with all of that. There was no running from it though, and you knew that. But you needed to take things one day at a time, after quite an emotionally draining period you went through some weeks ago. 

And then, there was Cody. You missed Cody -  very much. That kiss with him at the back of the taxi became a happy place in your head - whenever you’d feel overwhelmed with problems at work, or whenever the heavy thoughts about the divorce and your future would start to rage in your mind, the only thing that could calm you, the only place you could hide in your head was that moment. The way he looked at you. The way he just, without a word, leaned and kissed you. The way you both did that, the way you both felt that moment was bigger, stronger than you both, the way you got lost in it, the way your mind had to recreate all those little details because you almost blacked out from the intensity of that emotion.

And then there were those nights when you’d wake up, sweaty and almost breathless, dreams of Cody still lingering in your mind - his hands on you, your hands all over his naked body, your bodies flushed together, the warmth in your core spreading, threatening to burst. You’d squeeze your thighs closer, gasping for breath, realising you were lying alone in your bed, and Cody was somewhere far away - fighting a war. The heavenly bliss of the memory of that dream would soon be replaced by frustration, enormous frustration. It seemed that for the first time ever you actually realised just how much you wanted him - as if your mind allowed your body to completely bask in that secret desire, to let it overwhelm you, overtake you and show you its real power. And overwhelm it did - making you miss him so much, long for him like you never longed for anyone else before. 

Yes, there were so many questions on your mind, so many things you wanted to tell him and ask him. You wanted to talk to him about Leonid - for the first time, you felt you were ready to tell him everything. Not those little hints you gave him before about being sad and lonely, but properly tell him about everything that’s been going on. Tell him about the night you agreed it was over. Tell him how relieved you really were. 

But also, you wanted to ask him about Eleny. Those questions were tormenting you the most. About his relationship with her, and about the nature of their breakup. Why was she under the impression that he ‘dumped’ her, and dumped her for you? And why did she think he was to blame for what happened to her?

You had no way of knowing when he’d be back - you contemplated calling Fox once, but that thought was quickly put to rest. You couldn’t do that. It was bad enough that Fox knew about you two - that fact in itself embarrassed you, but now asking questions about Cody would just somehow mortify you - no matter how much you wanted to. Perhaps Cody was already back on Coruscant - a thought struck you once - and he just decided not to come and see you. And a sheer fear of hearing that from Fox paralysed you and stopped you from ever contacting him.

That afternoon seemed like any other. You had lunch with Penn in the kitchen and then you retreated to your office, to read and consider some offers you got from different food suppliers. 

It was a day like any other, but then again, ordinary days have their ways of suddenly turning into something spectacular. Those moments usually come when you least expect them - and that’s what makes them beautiful, even more beautiful than how you usually imagined them in your wildest dreams. 

But there he was. A knock on your door, just a regular knock, you barely lifting your head from the papers in front of you, and then moments later all the little hairs at the back of your neck standing up, your whole body feeling like it was just electrocuted. That’s how fast everything about your ordinary day changed. 

“Cody…” - you managed to say, your voice almost shaky. 

“Hello.” - he said, flashing you one of those smiles. Those smiles. The memory of which kept you sane for the last month. 

“I hope it’s okay I‘m just dropping in like this… unannounced. We just arrived, and I didn’t want to waste any time - I was hoping you’d be here.” 

“No, of course… it’s fine.” - you said. You wanted to get up and hug him, but your knees were suddenly weak. He stood in the middle of your office, a little awkwardly. The last time you saw each other you shared that kiss, that mind-blowing kiss, and now… you didn’t know how to react. You wanted to show him how happy you were to see him, but you had so many questions. 

But then he smiled again, and almost shily added “I’ve missed you '' - and there was no force or questions that could have kept you from jumping from your chair, and almost stumbling towards him - and him meeting you halfway in a heated hug.   

And you never wanted to let go. Every time he touched you you felt like you’d fall apart, but after not seeing him for so long, and since your life changed so drastically during that period, you were even more sensitive to everything. His touch now made you feel like you were having an out-of-body experience. Like you were not in control of your body anymore - how it reacted and how it behaved. Even if you wanted to, you found it difficult to let go of him- your body simply refused to do so. 

“Someone missed me, I think!” - Cody whispered mockingly in your ear, and that only made you cling to him even harder. 

“Of course I’ve missed you.” 

Cody was the first to let go of your waist, and you somehow managed to loosen your arms around his neck. His eyes locked on yours, those kind eyes and that look, you were quite certain, you would never be able to live without anymore. 

“Can I kiss you?” - he whispered. 

“Yes, please!” 

“I thought about kissing you every single day while I was away.” - he added, as he gently brushed your cheek with his thumb. 

You smiled and leaned closer to him, your lips almost touching his.

Cody pulled back just slightly once again.

“I just wanted you to know that. That kiss was…”

“Cody, shut up and just kiss me already!” - you said impatiently, and then smiled. “Please!” 

He laughed, a deep chuckle coming from his chest making his whole body vibrate. He pulled you closer and his lips locked with yours. This kiss was different from that first one. The first one was gentle, timid like he was worried that you might change your mind at any moment. 

But now, holding you so close and feeling your body respond to him, his kiss was almost desperate - a kiss of a man who longed for his loved one for far too long. A kiss of a man who was taking what was rightfully his. His tongue swept in and brushed against your own,  capsizing you by the fresh wave of desire that crashed over you.

His lips were soft, and you could feel a soft tickle of his breath beneath your nose, as you breathed each other in, while his fingers carded through your hair. Nothing else existed in that room, in that city, in the whole galaxy. Nothing else mattered. 

When he pulled away from the kiss after what was probably an eternity, but a way too short eternity, he smiled when you tried to chase his lips again. 

“Maybe we should take a seat, what do you think?” - he said, mockingly. “I know I’m very tired.” 

Cody took your hand and walked you to the couch. He took a seat where he always did - the left side of that couch belonged to him, and he knew that. 

You joined him and sat right next to him, leaning on his chest, while he wrapped his arms around you. You stayed that way for a few moments, in silence, just feeling each other. You listened to his steady heartbeat for a while, letting that rhythm relax you. 

“There’s so much I want to tell you” - you finally broke the silence. 

“I’m here mesh’la, I have the whole day…” 

“I’m getting a divorce.” 

It was the first time ever you had used that word. It wasn’t even a conscious decision not to call it what it was before - but as soon as you said it, it was the first time you realised that you’ve never said it before. Divorce. It sounded final. It sounded like a failure. It sounded like a word that would follow you for the rest of your life. 

Cody tilted your chin with his hand and made you face him. He was silent and just observed you, intensely and carefully. 

“Yeah, we finished it. It was a mutual decision, really…” - you continued, encouraged by his silence. 

Cody contemplated for a moment, never removing his eyes from you. 

“I know how this might sound coming from someone who's just kissed you, but I am sorry to hear that!” 

You nodded. 

“I know what it's like to lose someone who was a big part of your life… it’s not the same, but…” - he continued. 

You contemplated his words for a few moments. Of course, he could understand you. No one knows more about the loss, personal loss than the clones. 

“I feel like I just came back from a war myself… so you’re onto something there”. 

“How are you feeling?” - he asked, brushing hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. 

“I’m okay, mostly. It’s weird… the uncertainty… fear of the unknown…”

“Well, I’ll be there for you, and you know me, right… So, one less reason to fear anything!” - Cody smiled as he cupped your cheek. His eyes were soft and kind, and it filled you with some kind of relief - the way he always knew how to make light of all the difficult situations, but just in the right measure - not too much, but just enough - enough to make you smile, enough to fill you with optimism that things will work out as long as he’s by your side, enough to make your skin burn from the sheer desire that overwhelmed you. His closeness, his eyes, his hand on your cheek, his silent presence that always lit your mind and body on fire.

This time though  - this time it exploded. Nights of those hot dreams of his hands on you, of his naked body on yours, nights of waking up, edged from all the thoughts and dreams about him, your core pulsating but never getting there , your desire for him overpowering and all-consuming - all of it manifesting now, overtaking you and your control over your own body. 

Nothing mattered anymore. You tried to do the right thing for so long. In fact always - always thinking of other people before making any decisions, always thinking about what others would feel and think and say. But now, all you could think of - finally and for the first time -  were your own needs. All the walls you built around you, around your ego, around your needs were coming down, piece by piece and a wave of pure, selfish need overtook you - and it felt good. 

You needed this. Here and now. And for a moment nothing else existed in the galaxy. You were free. And you were going to act and live your life freely. 

“Cody… “ - you whispered as you crawled your way into his lap, straddling your knees on either side of his hips and pressing your body against him, crushing your lips back to his . He returned your kiss eagerly as well, although he was slightly surprised by your forwardness, his hands just hovering in the air for a moment, before he gently put them on your hips. You deepened your kiss, brushing your tongue fervidly against his. You couldn't get enough of him. When you rolled your hips and ground your core against his codpiece his hands on your hips gripped you harder and made you still.

“Hey, hey…” - he whispered as he pulled away from the kiss. “Maybe we should slow down… “ - he added with a quick peck on your lips. 

But there was no force in the galaxy that could have slowed you down or stopped you at that moment. 

“No!” - you said and your lips were back on his. He kissed you back again, carefully, but then once you started pushing your flush body closer to him he shifted in his seat. 

“Mesh’la…”

“I want you, Cody…Please!”

“I want you too, mesh’la, but are you sure…? Here? Now? Someone might walk in.” - he stilled your hips once again, your hips you weren’t in control anymore.

Somehow you managed to stop, take a deep breath and get up. You walked to the door and locked it twice. Cody's eyes were on you the entire time, and you thought for the first time ever that you could see a certain hunger in them that you have never seen before. You always knew he was attracted to you - that much was evident from his body language. But the way he was looking at you know, his pupils blown and his breathing rapid, made your knees weak - so much that you weren’t sure how you even managed to make those few steps back to the couch. 

But you did, and you stood in front of him, and while keeping his gaze, you started undoing the buttons on your dress. It was a shirt dress that had buttons all the way from the top to the bottom. You took your time, and you could see that Cody’s self-control started to falter with every button you freed. When you undid the last one you let the dress fall open and reveal a hint of your skin, bra and your panties. Cody shifted in his seat, his legs wide open, and then he leaned in towards you and took you by the hips, pulling you towards him. His eyes were fixated on that new view in front of him and he wanted to enjoy it before you went any further. 

But then he just leaned in and kissed your stomach, first slowly and chastely and then as if he'd lost all traces of any kind of control as soon as his lips tasted your skin, he started hungrily drinking you in, leaving big wet kisses all around your stomach. Taking his time, kissing every millimetre of your skin presented to him. 

“Cody, please…” - you whimpered, as you felt your knees getting weaker by the second. 

“You don’t have to keep begging me, mesh’la '' - he said gently in between those devastating kisses. He still did nothing to open your dress more and claim more of your skin, of your body, so you decided to do it for him, letting the dress slide down your shoulders and arms, and drop to the floor. Cody stopped with his kisses and looked up, searching for your eyes and then leaned back in his seat, his hands leaving your body comletely. But his eyes - his eyes were all over you. Driniking you in, taking mental images, filling them deep into his memory.

“Then what are you waiting for?” - you asked. 

He waited for a second, the hunger in his eyes burning stronger and stronger, and then he grabbed your hips, this time less gently, but needy, urgently as he pulled you down to his lap, letting you straddle him again. 

“You're so beautiful, you know that? - he whispered in between the kisses, while his fingers traced the hook on your bra. 

“No, I think I need to hear you say it, commander.” - you said, as he unhooked your bra, taking it off gently and putting it aside. Cody didn’t lose a second, and his lips closed on your nipple, sucking the delicate flesh. You grabbed his hair, tangling your fingers in those thick curls. 

“You are, mesh’la”- he said, moving to the other nipple, giving it a quick lick and then latching onto it, only pausing for a moment to keep praising you, “The most beautiful woman in the galaxy.”

You giggled, but just barely, as you were soon silenced by his hungry lips once again. 

“Cody, I need you…” - you managed to whisper.  Your panties were completely soaked and your whole body was like a live wire - sensitive, and almost already overstimulated from his every touch. After a month of this devastating build-up, after all those fleeting touches at the beginning, and all those hugs, that night when his fingers just lightly brushed the side of your breast, after all those hot dreams, so realistic that you could almost feel his sweaty body on yours as you‘d wake up gasping for breath, there was nothing that could make you wait  a moment longer. 

Cody wrapped his arm around your waist, lifting you up just enough for him to use his other arm and fumble with his codpiece. 

As soon as you heard him detach it and throw it on the floor, you reached in between your bodies, searching for him - you wanted to feel him so bad. He started pulling his undersuit down, but you were inpatient. You dipped your hand underneath his waistband, finally finding him there, hot and hard. Cody’s breath caught in his throat as you wrapped your hand around him and slid it slowly down. You gently moved it up again and repeated that movement a few times, never removing your eyes from him and his now-closed eyes, and half-open mouth. 

His breathing picked up, and you felt him growing even harder with your every stroke. 

You wanted him so bad, but you could have done that for hours - just touch him like that, make him feel good and watch him fall apart underneath you. 

“You’re going to make me finish if you keep doing that, baby…” - he managed to utter in between his heavy breaths. 

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that would we…?” - you smiled as you slowed down your movements.

“No, we wouldn’t…” - he said as he opened his eyes and took control over. His one hand was still on your hip, gripping it hard, while he moved his other in between your legs, traced your underwear and moved your lace panties to the side, his fingers gently tracing and dipping in your wetness. 

“Oh, meshla” - he whispered to your ear as he felt you, as he felt how needy and hot you were for him, how ready you were. 

Without a word you both instinctively moved, you gently lining him up at your entrance, and his hands gripping your hips. You opened your eyes and found his, wide open, his eyes dark and his pupils blown, staring at you. None of you even blinked gazing at each other as you started to move your hips down, feeling him slowly enter you. It felt good. It felt perfect. It felt like something that was so right, that everything that had ever happened before was meaningless. It renedered everything that came before completely pointless. It felt like a new life was about to start with that movement. Like something big was about to be born. 

Cody slowly lifted his hips, almost impatiently and once you felt him enter you completely you stayed that way for a moment, just gazing into each other’s eyes. You rolled your hips and Cody’s head snapped backwards - you repeated the movement quite a few times, each time brushing your clit over the coarse hair at the base of his shaft. 

And you were floating. Every touch, every contact with Cody’s body sent shivers through your entire body. It gripped you, it twisted your every atom, lit all your nerves alight. 

“You feel so good… so perfect!” - he whispered. 

And he felt even better. 

It’s been so long… So long since you had sex, and even longer since you had sex that you enjoyed. That you longed for. Even when it did happen with Leonid, it became mechanical, a chase for an orgasm, often only his own. That was your own fault though, you realised a long time ago. Leonid did notice the first few times when you didn’t find your release and he asked what he could do, but you just brushed it off, saying you were okay, and that you were just tired. And you never thought too much about why you reacted that way - almost like you gave up on the idea that you could have an orgasm with Leonid, almost like you didn’t want to bother. But you also knew that your body simply stopped reacting to him, even though you didn’t want to admit that - to him, or yourself. It wasn’t anything he’d done - or didn’t do - Leonid was a passionate lover, for most of the time - but it just wasn’t working anymore. That sexual chemistry, that passion, that heat that threatens to tear your lungs apart - it wasn’t there anymore.

But experiencing it now, with Cody, the kind of passion you thought you’d never be able to feel ever again, was almost unreal. Your body was about to be set free and float away, if it wasn’t for his strong arms pulling you down, digging deeper into your flesh, his lips brushing against yours, his lips kissing your neck, your collarbone, his teeth nibbling on your ear.  His hot breath brushed against your jaw as he would whisper sweet encouragements to your every move. As he’d whisper ‘Good girl'' in your ear when you’d roll your hips just right, so right, that you could feel him twitch inside you. So good that you could feel the rumbling deep inside his chest, as he gently touched your clit drenched in your own wetness, swollen and threatening to send million lightning bolts through your body.

This was how it was supposed to be. No force could have stopped this. Nothing could have stopped your bodies almost simultaneously reaching their releases, the peak of that ultimate pleasure. He gripped you so hard that you were sure your hips would be full of bruises the next morning, but you didn’t mind. Your fingers cramped in his hair so tightly, but he didn’t mind either. 

None of you would have minded anything at that point. Gasping for breaths, together, his hot seed inside you, the feeling of him still hard inside, his hands not letting you go, not letting you move. 

It’s been so long.

Your body was producing whatever hormone it took to make you almost ecstatic. You had to make an effort to stop yourself from giggling uncontrollably as he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

You finally moved, as he slowly slipped out of you, his seed leaking down your inner thigh and ending on his armour. None of you cared. That could be easily cleaned. 

You stayed on his lap, swinging your both legs to his one side. You put your head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

“I don’t think I can explain to you how happy I feel right now” - you murmured into his chest, too tired to lift your head and meet his eyes. 

“Good, mesh’la, you deserve to be happy.”

“I want to stay like this forever”

“Then we’ll just stay like this forever. Let them send a search party.”

You chuckled and placed a kiss on his chest. 

And you did stay that way for quite a while - and hadn’t you moved first, you were sure Cody would let you stay that way till that search party tore your door down. But you had a thought, and it tormented you and you didn’t want anything to ruin this newfound state of bliss you entered - you wanted to get things out in the open. 

So you moved, lifted your head and found Cody’s eyes. He looked tired, but relaxed - probably like you: 

“I want to tell you something…”

“What, mesh’la?” 

“I…I went to visit Eleny… and it didn’t go well.”

Cody’s face darkened slightly and his brow furrowed. He took a deep breath:

“I know… I‘m sorry. Fox told me.” 

“He told you?”

“Well, not all the details. We managed to speak briefly a week ago on a secure channel, and he told me that Eleny’s doing fine now, she’d been discharged soon after that night. The guy is still in prison and he’ll be charged, so that’s good.”

“I’m glad to hear that!” 

“Yeah, Fox has been seeing a lot of her lately apparently. Making sure she was alright, helping her as much as he could… She’s been back at work now for a while too”

“He told me that’s what brothers do.” - you said and Cody smiled. 

“That’s true. It put my mind at ease, knowing he’s been here, and that he could do all that…”

“Cody…” - you said almost uncomfortably.

“What is ti, mesh’la?”

“There’s something she said to me… “

“Yes? “

“Well, you don't have to tell me if you don’t want to…”

Cody shifted in his seat slightly, but still gazed intensely into your eyes, making sure to show you that you had his undivided attention. 

“I’ll tell you everything, babygirl, ask me anything. ”

“Well, it’s just... Eleny, she… said something…”

“Yes?”

“She said that the two of you were… well, fucking , that was her word, for two years and that you… well, dumped her when you met me…”

Cody was silent for quite a while, and you noticed a change of mood on his face like there was a whiff of sadness that washed over it. 

“Is that true?” 

He sighed. 

“In a way it is… we were sleeping together for a long time. But we both agreed that it was just that - it wasn’t a relationship.”

He was silent again for a moment, but then he continued.

“I never wanted a relationship before. I know that clones get involved with people, and many make their relationships work… but that never felt…right to me. Being away for so long, the responsibilities that I have... I just never saw myself committing to someone in that situation. Or asking someone to commit to me.” 

You nodded. 

“The thing with Eleny was… easy. I’m not the biggest fan of going out and meeting girls that way… It never sat well with me, especially in 79s, with my whole battalion around me. I always thought as a commander, I was supposed to be above all of that, they weren’t supposed to see me as one of them, doing things they do, being just some horny guy chasing girls….” 

“I understand that…”

“Eleny never said anything to me… she never expected anything. I had no idea. I still don’t know… when it started, how long it lasted… “

“You mean when she developed feelings for you?”

“Yes…I don't think the feelings were there from the beginning, because we talked about it, and we both agreed that none of us wanted a commitment and that we’d just hook up when I was around… And I'm quite sure she was okay with that… for a while anyway!”

“I understand… But did you… dump her when, you know…?” 

“When I met you?” - Cody interrupted, shaking his head. “No, no, I didn’t, and I hate that she thinks that. I never thought in a million years that anything would - or could happen with you. I honestly didn’t. We were sleeping together after you and I met…”

You shifted in your seat. For some reason that statement made you uncomfortable - you tried running all your early meetings through your head, and remembering how much they meant to you, and then realising that he went and slept with someone else right after it. 

But then, you also went home to your husband. Maker, what right did you have to be jealous? And you weren’t exactly jealous, it wasn’t that… but there was something. Some irrational feeling that gripped you. One of those that you could only develop every now and then if you really, really cared about someone. You hoped that he didn’t notice. 

But Cody could sense that your mind drifted away for a moment:

“Sorry, baby!” - he said and brushed his knuckles on your cheek. “I didn’t know what this thing with you was, and again, I never…”

“No…” -  you interrupted him - “Cody, you don’t owe me any explanation for that. It’s okay. Really. None of us knew… or could have known.”

He smiled, but then you remembered something:

“I did something similar - the more I realised I was attracted to you, the more I tried to revive my marriage, rekindle the passion, suggest date nights to Leonid, initiate conversations… it’s like, you know what you’re feeling, the attraction is so powerful, but still, your mind tries to focus on something else, tries to fight it… but that almost never works…”

“Well, yes… that’s what I also thought. I thought it would go away. But every time I’d see you, I couldn’t resist you. But sadly, my behaviour towards Eleny also changed due to that, even though I was not aware of that at first. I became more… affectionate.  But she noticed… and that probably contributed to her developing feelings…”

“I see…”

“When she told me that she wanted more from me, I knew I couldn't continue. I admitted that my affections towards her were misplaced, and that hurt her. Of course, it did.”

Cody looked sad. His eyes which almost sparkled earlier were now tired and half-closed. You observed him carefully, how his face gradually changed during the course of that conversation. He felt bad about it, there was no doubt about that. 

“I’m sorry I brought it up, baby…” - you said returning to your rightful place, at the nook of his neck. He hugged you and pulled you even closer to him. 

“Nothing to be sorry about, I wanted to tell you all of this myself, anyway.”

“I’m sorry you were dragged into it… that shouldn’t have happened.” - he added, placing a kiss on your temple. 

“It’s alright.” - you whispered. 

You wondered whether feeling this overwhelmingly happy was a good thing. There was a saying on your planet, that if you feel too happy and everything is going your way, you should place a little stone inside your shoe - to make your walking uncomfortable so you'd at least have one thing trouble you. There was a balance in everything, and if everything was going well, at some point destiny will turn the tables. So you shouldn't tempt fate. 

But then again, perhaps this was destiny’s way of balancing things. Perhaps both you and Cody already walked too far with that annoying scratchy little stone in your shoes, and this was now finally your time to balance all the bad luck that followed you all this time. 

And you were going to embrace it - for once in your life, you’ll live in the moment. And this moment, where you just made love, and where he answered all your questions, this moment where he held you, semi-naked, pulled tightly to his chest, the moment when he came back to you after a long period of longing, this moment was as perfect a moment as any could ever be. 

“I wish I could take you back to my place… and do this again… do this whole night. I wish I could wake up next to you. But I can’t… it wouldn’t be... I don’t know if Leonid…”

“Shh… I know! I know! Me too… we’ll just need to be patient a little bit longer. We can do that. But I promise you, it will be worth it, mesh’la! It’s all been worth it so far!”  

----

Note:

After all the angst and misery, it's so lovely to arrive at this point where both Cody and the reader finally get to be happy and together. So once again, thanks to all of you, patient readers, who made it this far and didn't give up - I hope you too think it was worth the wait :) 

There is one more chapter to go, so we're not done yet ;)

xx

[alpacaparkaseok]

Spooked

Requested by anon - a picture of your request will be at the bottom of the post! Thanks for sending it in, I had so much fun with it! :)

Pairing: best friend!BTS, maybe some secret crushes going on? 👀

Premise: You + all 7 members of BTS visiting a haunted house. What could go wrong?

So, so much.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: they are touring a haunted house, so there’s gonna be some scary story/spooky things going on. hopefully there’s enough fun things/fluff to counter it? 

a/n: this was longer than I expected it to be...but I was having fun with ot7. hopefully nobody minds lol

It wasn't your fault that Hobi had never seen "A Quiet Place". He had mentioned it as you scrolled through the options on his TV while lounging on his couch like an overgrown cat. Everyone else was in the process of scarfing down their dinner, popping popcorn, and laughing over whatever Jimin and Yoongi were bickering about.

Obviously you had to watch it.

Naturally, the conversation had drifted to a bit more spooky topics. You'd come back from grabbing more popcorn surprised to find Jin talking about his friend that wanted to open up a house they'd inherited for ghost tours.

After nudging Jimin out of the way, you took up your usual spot next to Taehyung. They all watch you with amused eyes, knowing full well that Taehyung is the only one that willingly scratches your back on movie nights.

"Really, like is it the kind of haunted house where people dress up and scare you?" Jungkook asked, his interest piqued.

Jin shook his head. "No, not really. It sounds like they just walk you through the house and tell stories and stuff."

You and Jungkook share a look, already thinking the same thing. A glance at Hobi shows him clutching a blanket to his chest, caught between the events of the film and the conversation taking place.

"We should go," you ventured, immediately earning a startled stare from both Jin and Hobi. The others chuckle in response, Namjoon swatting Jungkook's hand half-heartedly as he tries to steal more popcorn from him.

"...noooo," Jin began. "It's not like it's up and running yet, they're just working on getting it ready for the fall-"

Jungkook picks up where you left off. "Perfect! We can be their test group. That way they'll know what they can do for the general public, get an idea of what works and what doesn't."

You jump in again before Jin can protest more. "C'mon! And besides, this may be your only chance just to go for fun! Otherwise you'd have to find a way to go without running into all of those people, and have to contact management about it..."

Jin sighs, looking at Hobi who stares back at him with an expression of defeat. You grin, Taehyung chuckling beside you.

"Fine."

It was all too easy. Standing here now, you can see just why they want to open this up for ghost tours. Of course you won't admit it, but you already have chills running down your spine.

Or maybe that's just because Jung Hoseok is currently breathing down your neck.

"Alright," Jin's friend, Gina stands at the top of the steps, smiling down at you all. "Everybody ready?"

Jungkook and Taehyung, completely riled up, let out whoops and cheers while everyone else grunts in acknowledgement. Hobi clings to the back of your jacket, whimpering like a lost puppy.

This should be fun.

Jungkook doesn't bother to wait for everyone else, heading straight inside after Gina. Taehyung and Jimin are hot on his heels, joking about something back and forth. You follow after them, glancing back at Hobi with an amused grin.

"Oh," he realizes that he's still clinging to you. "Right." Extracting his hand from your jacket, he lets you move forward. He remains close behind you, Jin at his side.

Namjoon and Yoongi bring up the rear, hardly paying attention to anything that's going on as they chat about a business they saw not far from here.

"We'll begin in the front study here," Gina adopts a spooky tone as she stands in the candlelight. Shadows dance along the walls, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight.

Suddenly you wish that Hobi was still holding onto you.

Slowly, so as to not draw the attention (and teasing) of the maknae line, you step back until you're between Namjoon and Yoongi.

The two of them smirk down at you, knowing full well that you're already spooked.

"What are you doing?" Jin whispers back to you, eyes wide while he rubs his arms as though he's cold. "Trying to abandon us to the ghosts?"

You shake your head fervently, hoping that they don't notice the way you're sneaking your hand into the pocket of Yoongi's jacket.

"No, the middle is the safest place," you argue. Yoongi gives a breathy chuckle beside you, his hand finding yours in the warmth of his pocket and giving it a squeeze. Thankfully the house is dark enough that the blush on your cheeks shouldn't be visible.

Absentmindedly you link your other arm through Namjoon's, hardly able to breathe properly when he instinctively moves closer.

What were you even saying?

"A-and now you've got three in front and three in back. You're totally safe."

Hobi and Jin look at each other like they know exactly what you’re up to, but don't push it as they suddenly begin walking again. Gina leads the way toward the dining room, weaving a tale of how the estranged wife of the owner of the house swore she would never leave the property.

"Did she?" Jungkook asks from the front, peeking in closed off rooms along the way. You can't help but marvel at his fearlessness.

Gina's eyes glow with excitement, almost as though she were waiting for someone to ask that. "No. Years later, when the owner sold the house, the new occupants said they found a sealed off room in the basement." You gasp, the sound echoing through the hallway. You miss the look Jimin gives you, too attached to the story.

"What..." you clutch Namjoon's arm, the fabric of his jacket bunching in your hand. "Did they ever open up the room?"

Gina grins. "They did. They hired someone to come and open the sealed door. However, the man they hired only got about halfway before quitting. He was terrified."

Yoongi leans down to whisper in your ear. "Are you trying to cut off my circulation?"

It's only then that you notice you've been squeezing his hand with startling strength. "Whoops." Going to remove your hand from his, he frowns, holding it tighter before you can move.

Well, if this isn't a rollercoaster of emotions.

"Why was he so scared?" Namjoon pipes up beside you, a hint of a smile gracing his features as he reads the expression on your face. Oh, you're so screwed. "Did he find something?"

"It's not so much what he found as what he didn't," Gina replies. "But we'll have to save that for last. For now, the dining room. Come on in, everyone."

Hobi looks back at you, a mixture of horror and overall curiosity on his face. “Oh, she’s good.”

Indeed, Gina definitely seems to have a way with words. You’re just having a hard time understanding them as your heart beats loudly enough to drown out any other noises. Yoongi has taken to tracing circles on the back of your hand, which you think are meant to be soothing. 

It only serves to send your heart rate skyrocketing. You stare at the portrait on the far end of the dining room, practically boring holes into the painting of the young woman. 

Breathe, don’t do anything stupid.

“...alright?”

You blink, finding yourself to be the sudden center of attention. Jungkook grins widely at you. 

“What?”

Jungkook repeats his question. “Are you doing alright?”

“Oh.”

Jimin bursts out laughing. “That’s not an answer, jagiya. Need us to protect you from the ghosts?”

Your wide eyes immediately give you away, and even Gina is offering you a look of pity before deciding to continue on with the tour. Before you embarrass yourself even more, you slip out of Yoongi and Namjoon’s grasp, sneaking up behind Jin and Hobi.

“Hello boys,” you drawl, making Hobi nearly jump out of his skin. You earn a laugh from the group, Jin chuckling at his scared friend. Hobi just glares at you. 

“This sucks,” he whispers to you, pulling you up to stand between him and Jin. Immediately they stick to your sides like magnets and you realize that you have indeed done something stupid as Jin’s breath ghosts over the shell of your ear as he goes to whisper something to you.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it would seem. Your heart certainly agrees. 

“I’m not scared, you know,” Jin whispers. You take a deep breath, reminded yourself that these idiots are your best friends, not menu items. 

You shoot him an incredulous look. “I doubt that.”

He grins at you, eyes lingering a bit longer than usual. “You’ll see.”

Tearing your eyes away from his and hearing his deep chuckle, you wonder if it’s too late to ask Gina where the nearest exit is. 

Don’t do anything stupid.

“Shall we head up to the attic?” Gina asks. “It’s a small space, we can only go three at a time. However, there are some really interesting old photographs up there that we should look at.”

In the blink of an eye everyone is paired off, and you find yourself face to face with Jimin. He grins at you like the Cheshire Cat, making you wonder if he isn’t the most dangerous thing in this house. 

Jin and Hobi have the glorious opportunity to go up together while Gina leads the way, and several screams accompany their little trip. In the middle of the candlelight in the hallway, you chuckle with the rest of your friends. 

“It’s been interesting so far,” Jungkook muses. “I really want to know what they found in that sealed off basement room.”

Taehyung hums in agreement. “Mmm. Or rather, what they didn’t find.”

“What does that even mean?”

Nobody is given a chance to answer Jungkook’s question as Hobi and Jin come scrambling down the ladder, faces pale even as they laugh. Gina chuckles from above, beckoning the next pair to come up.

Jimin looks at you with an arched brow. “Wanna go next?”

“Sure.” You follow him up the ladder, laughing as Jin recounts how he swore the woman in the photograph blinked. 

The attic is filled with moonlight, and under other circumstances it might be pretty. However, amongst the old heirlooms sits an ominous scrapbook, filled with black and white photos of less-than-happy people. 

Jimin reaches down, grabbing your hand and helping you to your feet as you look around. When he lets go you aren’t sure whether or not to be disappointed. 

You’ve hardly made up your mind when he leads you to where Gina stands beside the scrapbook and slips behind you. A moment later his arms encircle your waist, chin propped up on your shoulder. 

So there’s that. 

Gina points to the first photo, a grim-looking man standing behind a chair where a young woman sits smiling. “This is the estranged wife, before she was estranged, of course. And this is the owner of the house. From what we’ve been able to dig up about his past - no pun intended - he was always deathly serious.”

Jimin hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations going straight into your spine. Unsure of what to do with your arms, you gently place them atop his arms around your middle. 

You swear he smiles for a moment before turning pensive again. “Why did they separate?” You manage to ask, applauding yourself for getting a complete sentence out while Park Jimin hugs you from behind. 

“Rumor has it she cheated on him with his best friend,” Gina whispers, pointing to another photo where the solemn owner stands beside a smiling man. “He was driven mad with jealousy. Terrible, isn’t it?”

Gina gives you a long look, and suddenly you straighten your spine. “I-uh, yeah. Horrible.”

She shows us another photo, explaining something about it while Jimin mumbles out a couple of questions. You hardly process any of it, staring at Gina and wondering if she thinks that you are somehow cheating.

But on who? Jin, maybe? Since that’s her friend?

“Alright, send up the next pair,” Gina croons. Jimin detaches himself from you, suddenly leaving you cold. You turn to follow him, but stop as Gina places a hand on your arm. 

“Yes?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone even. Gina motions for Jimin to keep going, pulling you back to the scrapbook. She tilts her head to one side. 

“Forgive me for maybe overstepping a boundary but...” she motions toward the ladder, where everyone waits below. “Don’t tell me you’re flirting with all of them.”

Your eyes widen, and a breathy laugh comes out. “Me? What? N-no. They’re my best friends, why would I-”

Gina laughs, the sound too loud for the small attic. “Well, they’re flirting with you.” She playfully elbows me. “Speaking from girl to girl...enjoy it. For the rest of us.”

Nearly choking, you frown but nod all the same. “...ok?” When she makes no move to say anything else, you head down the ladder. The boys look up at me with confused looks, Jimin waiting at the bottom to make sure you get down safely. 

“What was that about?” Jin asks, looking a little nervous. “She didn’t say anything to make you uncomfortable, did she?”

You blink at him, wondering for a moment if the boys have always been like this around you. Surely not. It’s just the haunted house bringing out this protective side, right?

Right?

“No, she just wanted to show me something else. She’s actually really nice.” You think.

The other groups go up, and nothing else happens to pique your interest. Gina comes down last of all, giving you a wink before walking down the hallway. 

“I think we’re ready to go down to the basement, everyone!”

Somehow you end up at the front, surrounded on all sides by the maknae line. You crane your neck, looking back to see the older boys all lost in a heated discussion. Hobi catches your eye after a moment, elbowing Namjoon who looks up at you with fake innocence. 

You frown, Gina’s words coming back to you. “They’re flirting with you.”

You must have lost your mind. Was the haunted house really that traumatizing as to make you start coming up with such ridiculous things? How silly of you. 

The feeling of a hand resting on the small of your back has you yelping, jumping to face forward again. Taehyung gives you a sheepish grin. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, gently pushing you forward to stand in front of him. “Are you really that spooked?”

“I...no.” You fail to come up with a complete sentence, but shrug it off. Taehyung smiles brightly at you, gesturing for you to head down the stairs. 

“You seem distracted tonight, are you alright?” 

The way your heart had begun palpitating calms down as you notice the obvious concern on Taehyung’s face. You give him a small smile, allowing yourself to relish the feeling of his fingers splayed against your back as you move down the stairs. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. Just distracted by the story.”

Taehyung looks at you for a moment longer, not quite believing you but shrugging it off. He brings both hands to your shoulders as you enter the basement, an obvious chill in the air. 

You fight off a shiver, Taehyung noticing and beginning to rub at your arms in an attempt to warm you up. Gina immediately notices the action, hiding a smile as she pretends to cough. 

“Well,” she says once her ‘coughing fit’ subsides. “We’ve made it to the final leg of the tour. How’s it been so far?”

This time everyone cheers with renewed vigor, although a part of you has a hunch that it’s because Hobi knows he’s nearing the end of this scary experience. The thought makes you grin. 

“Earlier, you guys asked me what was found in the sealed off room. It’s easier to show you, rather than explain.” Gina walks backward, motioning for everyone to follow her. It’s darker down here, only a few candles light the way. Despite being surrounded by people you trust, you can’t fight the fear that sneaks inside of you. 

Rounding a corner, you see a small hallway with a half-open door. Jin curses behind you, clearly feeling just as freaked out as you.

“Remember how the estranged wife said she’d never leave this place?” Gina nods toward the door and dark entryway. “In that room there’s evidence that she may have had an...extended stay here. It’s very small, and the door only opens to a certain point. Almost as though whoever designed it didn’t want to have an easy escape point.”

Chills run down your spine, and even Taehyung’s ministrations pause for a moment as he takes in this new information. 

Jungkook speaks up, ever the curious one. “Wait...her body isn’t still here, right?”

Gina shakes her head. “No, although we think that she may have been buried somewhere on the property. We have yet to find her, though.”

“That...” you shake your head, shuffling from foot to foot. “That sounds so ominous. Like she still walks the property or something.”

The smile Gina sends you is enough to make your blood run cold. “We haven’t ruled anything out.” She gestures toward the door. “Due to fire hazards, we can only have two people at a time in the hallway and in the room. Do I have any volunteers?”

Jungkook’s hand immediately shoots up in the air, and he looks at his hyungs pleadingly. You remain still as a statue, refusing to look up for fear of being called on. 

You swear you can almost hear Taehyung sigh before he speaks. “Well, obviously you have to go.” He nudges you forward, and you whirl on him in absolute horror. 

“What?!” You shout. “How could you betray me like this?! I- no way!”

The boys can’t help but laugh at you, Namjoon clapping Taehyung on the shoulder. Taehyung gives you an apologetic look, shrugging. 

“C’mon, I’ll keep you safe,” Jungkook promises, his big pleading eyes on yours.

You hate how you can never say no to him. 

Gina pats your shoulder as you walk past, laughing lightly. “Have fun,” she croons. “Ok everyone, let’s go into the open area just around the corner-”

“You’re leaving us?!” You shout again, stopping in your tracks. “Noooo, no no. Not happening.”

“Jungkook will take care of you,” Yoongi says over his shoulder. “Or do you not trust him?”

Jungkook pauses, looking at you with those big brown eyes. “You don’t trust me?”

Yoongi chuckles darkly before leaving the hallway, and you know he’s aware of what he did. You’ll have to make him pay for it later. 

Possibly in the form of food.

“No, I do Kook,” you sigh. He extends his hand out to you, waiting patiently. 

You take it a little too quickly.

Gina was right, the door only opens to a certain point, leaving you no choice but to shimmy through. Jungkook inspects the entire area, pointing out what looks to be scratches on the doorframe. You shiver. 

“It’s not real,” he reassures you, keeping his hand in yours as he shimmies into the room. You hesitate for a moment, daring to glance at where your hands are connected before following after him. 

It’s nearly pitch black in the room, hardly allowing for you to see anything. “Can you even see anything?”

Jungkook laughs, squeezing your hand. “Nope. I think we’ll have to wait for our eyes to adjust. You good?”

You squeeze back. “Yeah, I think-”

The door is shut.

The door is shut. 

Suddenly delved into complete darkness, your breath hitches in your throat. “Jungkook,” you whimper. “Jungkook, I’m scared-”

“Shhh,” Jungkook hushes you, pulling you closer until you bump into his chest. “You’re fine. They’re just pulling a prank on us.” 

Without thinking anything other than, I’m too young to die, you instinctively wrap your arms around his waist, burrowing your head against his chest as he chuckles. 

“I can’t die, Jungkook,” you mumble into his chest. “I’m too young. I have so much to do. I have a test this week to take, and I’ve studied so hard for it, I have to take it. That’d be so stupid to die before taking that dumb test. And I have to yell at Yoongi or something, I don’t know-”

Jungkook’s giddy laughter pulls you out of your daze, and if you weren’t so scared you would be glaring at him. He laces his fingers behind your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers into the dark, making every last thought eddy out of your brain. “Have I ever told you that before?”

Finding just enough willpower to move, you shake your head. Jungkook harrumphs above you, the sound almost pulling a giggle from you. Then you remember the situation you’re currently in. 

Jungkook sighs. “Well, you are. That, and a lot of other things. Would you like me to tell you what else I think you are?”

Hands bunching in the fabric of his clothes, you find your voice. “...yes.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Scary smart. It’s horrifying.” A chuckle bubbles up from your chest. “And inclusive. That’s so underrated these days, you know? But you’re always making sure everyone is involved and enjoying themselves.”

You can tell that he’s holding his breath from the way his chest has stopped moving, and you’re about to ask him if he’s alright when he hesitantly runs his fingers through your hair. 

If that wasn’t enough to send you over the edge, he lets out a shaky breath before continuing on. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you those things before.”

You manage a laugh. “I’m sorry that it took us going on a haunted house tour for you to say it.”

Jungkook smiles down at you, your eyes finally adjusted to the dim room. He stares at you for a long moment, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

You wonder if you’d let him.

He must see the question in your eyes, but he gives you a knowing look before heading toward the door, making sure your hand is in his. 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he says, testing the door and giggling at your sigh of relief when the door is unlocked. 

“Worry about what?” You feign ignorance. Jungkook sees right through your, tugging you along as you head out the door. 

He shrugs, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes as pink no doubt paints his cheeks. “You know...overstepping any boundaries.” He looks down at his feet. “Making a move.”

“Why?” The question comes out before you can stop it, and you inwardly curse yourself. Jungkook smiles softly at your inquiry. 

The sound of everyone chatting makes you almost want to cry with relief. They must be just around the corner, waiting for you to return. 

Jungkook leans over, whispering to you. “Because we have a pact.”

You turn to question him further, eyes wide. He anticipates this, taking long strides until you find yourselves back in the open area with everyone else. 

“We’re back!” Jungkook announces, shooting you a smirk. You can’t help but stare at him, mouth slightly agape. 

A pact?

Gina smiles broadly. “How was the room? Did you find anything interesting?”

You shake your head, trying and failing to stop yourself from overanalyzing every glance the boys give you. “...no. I was too freaked out to even look around after the door closed on us.”

“Yeah, who did that? We didn’t even hear you guys,” Jungkook asks. 

Everyone looks at the two of you before looking at Gina, clearly just as confused. 

Gina, on the other hand, looks absolutely terrified. 

“Ummm...” she begins, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm herself up. “Remember how I said that we haven’t ever found the body of the estranged wife?”

You nod your head but stop, the words sinking in. The hairs on the back of your neck rise up, and you find yourself shuffling over to stand next to Jin, clinging to his arm. 

“Yeah...” Namjoon says, eyes darting around the room.

Gina sighs. “Alright, everyone, single file line. Head out as quickly and quietly as possible.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

masterlist

this has been turned into a series!

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oooh so spooky ;) 

[songbirdstyles]

when the levee breaks

summary: you’re a waitress and harry is being stood up.

warnings: brief smut, angst, fluff, love at first sight <3 kind of

song inspo.: when the levee breaks - led zeppelin

word count: 9.5k

There’s always a particular vibe you get from people going on first dates.

It’s an easy one to notice and you and your coworkers love pointing it out - it’s an air of hope and romance, people arriving dressed their very best yet still holding some sort of awkwardness. It’s sweet, actually, and quite adorable and they’re always the nicest to you, needing to impress their date and make sure they know that they’re respectful. It’s the same reason they leave such a hefty tip - likely wanting to show they’re, at the very least, wealthy enough to tip 20% on a $100 tab and not have it hurt their pockets, or to prove that they respect waitresses enough to help you pay your rent. They’re always the tables you’re desperate to serve, not only for the tip they leave you but because you love getting a clue as to how the date goes, and most times it’s good. Once, you’d heard the guy’s date inquire about kids before their meals came, and they’d left barely minutes after paying their bill. Another time, a couple had arrived at 6 and hadn’t left until 11 on a Thursday night - nearly two hours after closing, and you’d nearly had to shoo them out the door when they weren’t going fast enough.

It varies often, but still - first date couples are your favourite, and when you see him walk up to the host stand, you know he’s another one.

The uncomfortableness is what tips you off, fiddling with one of the numerous rings on his finger as he leans back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting behind an elderly couple hoping to grab a table outdoors for some drinks. He’s dressed well, tucking a loose curl behind his ear and rolling up his sleeves and when he makes it up he’s confirming a reservation f’two, under th’name Harry Styles, please. And the girl at the host stand - the youngest host your boss has hired, you reckon, though you’d need to fact check it to be sure - picks up her pen and crosses his name out in the reservation book, a thick line running through his information and phone number before she’s grabbing a stack of menus (specials, wine, beer, and general, respectively) and telling him to follow me this way, sir as she leads him outside.

Well, you don’t see exactly where Brianna takes him before you remember the four waters that table 306 had asked for, and it’s not like you to get distracted like that by a customer - you’ve been a waitress for nearly three years since starting college and yet, no patron has ever caught your eye like Mr. Harry Styles. It’s a damn paradox, really - you only see attractive guys like him when they’re on dates and, by that point, they’re spoken for. There’s no room for you to mosey in and you wouldn’t do that to another girl, anyway, but still. You suppose it doesn’t matter (he looks wealthy enough to leave a good tip with or without a date, truthfully) but it still has you sighing as you grab four glasses, scooping ice into them and beginning to fill them with water.

Distraction is a bad look on a waitress, your manager had told you the last time you’d gotten distracted by a pretty girl and nearly dropped the plate of pasta you were holding. It makes your smile seem forced. And that was the first month you’d started working, before you’d realized that most customers treated the staff like objects to use to make themselves look or feel better - you’d seldom had to use her advice since then. But there’s a first - or second - time for everything, isn’t there? And he is your second time.

 --

 After you’ve delivered your waters, though, you’re made uncomfortably aware of the fact that Brianna had, indeed, seated Harry in your section. And it isn’t a bad thing, per se, except he is the most attractive man you’ve ever met and you can only imagine what his date is going to look like when they show up - probably dressed to the nines like he is, just a tad too fancy for an establishment like this and you’re sure you’ll feel insecure in your work-issued shirt and jeans but you suppose there’s nothing to do about it.

You try not to make it too obvious as you fix your hair, tying your ponytail higher up onto your head because it had been slipping down and you’re really not a huge fan of low ponytails. Normally you don’t mind but - sometimes the circumstances change. 

He’s at table 305, leaning over his phone, fingers drumming against the table when you walk over to him, clutching two coasters in your hands and he looks up at you with a smile as you approach. And it’s easy - giving the same introductory speech you’ve given thousands of times before, telling him your name and how I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” you question, eyes flickering inconspicuously to the empty seat across from him. He’d pulled it out slightly, angling it out towards the sidewalk in clear anticipation of when his date enters so she can gracefully sit down without having to make a fuss about pulling the chair out - so he’s a gentleman, and it only worsens your moral dilemma at the situation. 

“I’ll jus’ have a water, f’now,” he responds, smiling up at you and you nod, reaching down to rest one coaster in front of him and the other in front of the other seat. “M’waiting f’someone - then I’ll get somethin’ else.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him, giving him a smile as if you had no idea he was waiting for someone when, in fact, you’d known the second he walked through the doors. Quickly your eyes dart up and down the sidewalk, checking to see if anyone’s walking with their sights set on your restaurant but there’s nobody - perhaps she’s late, or he’s early, but it’s not your place to speculate anyway. “I’ll be right out with that.”

And so you make your way back inside - you have to stop at table 303 because their daughter, so small her legs barely hang off the seat she’s sitting in, has finished her Coke and wants another and you take their dish of risotto balls with you, practically licked clean (in your opinion, they’re the best appetizers on the menu, and you’ve tried just about everything.) 301 got up, leaving nearly half a plate of polpo sitting there and a full untouched bottle of wine and you can recall them specifically declining your request to take their plates earlier, claiming they were still picking at it and clearly they changed their mind - but Brianna’s rushing out to clean everything up before you tell her to, and that’s good of her. She’s new - it’s always good to see the new workers doing well. You’ll tell your manager the next time you see her, you reckon, though you hope it’s not too soon. And then 306 waves you down, seconds away from screaming for you to notice them because the man wants some red pepper flakes to sprinkle onto his pizza and it all stacks up in your mind, but you just smile and nod and turn to rush inside before anyone else can flag you down.

You don’t notice Harry’s eyes on you, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

One Coke and one dish of red pepper flakes later and you’re returning to Harry’s table, resting his drink on his coaster. It’s barely been two minutes since he last requested the water and his initial look of hope and excitement hasn’t faded, even when his eyes flicker down to his phone as though to check for a notification when he thanks you for the water.

Oh, well. Dates are late all the time, and you don’t have time to ponder on it as 304 noisily stacks their plates on top of each other, and you swoop over to grab them before taking them inside. No, it certainly isn’t your place to wonder about the status of his date because you know that you’ve been late to dates too many times than you should’ve, what with classes and work and everything else you have to do in life. You barely have time to date anymore - when you’re not studying so late you can barely keep your eyes open you’re picking up shifts, working your ass off for a paycheck that goes straight to your landlord. You hardly even hang out with your friends anymore and you’re not sure if it’s a healthy sacrifice, giving up your friends to work and study and get far less sleep than the average 22 year old but you don’t quite have a choice, do you?

Maybe his date is in the same situation - you can’t fault her for it. It certainly makes her more relatable to you.

 --

 It’s been fifteen minutes and Harry still sits on his own, nails tapping against his phone screen, turning his head to glance up and down the sidewalk like you had before but there’s no one there to join him. Part of you feels bad as you rest a plate of mozzarella agnolotti in front of the two men at 302 and they dig into it like fucking heathens who haven’t eaten in months, and when you tell them to enjoy they call out thank you with their mouths full, bits of food flying onto the table, and you feel bad for when one of the hostesses has to clean it later.

It’s times like this that you’re thankful to be a waitress and not a host. Those times are few and far between, but they still come.

303 got their entrees and 304 has their check and you don’t have an excuse not to stop back at Harry’s table, even if feeling his eyes on you has your stomach turning and your face heating. Hopefully he can’t notice (and you have gotten fairly skilled at hiding your emotions with a wide smile that’s just about as fake as they come) and your prayers seem to answer themselves when you walk to his table, ducking beneath the umbrella that hangs above the two-top and meeting his eyes.

“You want a refill on that water?” You ask, motioning with a nod down towards his half-empty glass. It’s certainly not low enough to warrant bringing out the water pitcher but you’ll deal with the hassle - going table to table asking if they need refills and all the other shit you have to do because it seems discriminatory when you only offer it to one table. 

He looks up at his glass, tilting his head and screwing up his eyes as though he really needs time to decide whether he needs more water before shaking his head, curls flopping in front of his face as he pulls his glass closer to him. “S’alright.”

“Is your date running late?” And the second the words are out of your mouth you want to smack yourself - you know it’s unprofessional to comment like that especially when it’s that fucking obvious that you’re right. You may as well have asked him if the sky is blue, or if the time really is 6:15. Irrefutable facts are embarrassing to state aloud, especially when it would get you a stern talking to if your manager were to overhear.

But Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it, nor does he seem fazed by your sudden expression like you’d just bit into a lemon. In fact, he takes the comment in stride, resting his palms on the tabletop as he squints up at you - the sun shines behind you and you’re sure it’s in his eyes, and the fact that he took the sunny seat just adds another reason to consider him perfect. “Yeah, she is,” he confesses, twiddling with his rings again, and it’s nearly impossible not to drop your gaze to his fingers and watch him go. “But - y’know - she’s a nurse, an’ all that. Probably just had t’work late an’ forgot t’text. S’alright.”

You’re not sure what to say to that and for a second you stand there in silence as Harry taps his phone, surely checking to see if he’d received a text that hadn’t lit up his phone with the notification but there’s nothing except for the lockscreen - a blurry shot of a black and white cat, face close to the camera and tongue sticking out just so. Instead you clear your throat before saying, “I’ll go grab you some olives.”

“Olives?”

“Yeah - we give everyone assorted olives.” And suddenly, it sounds stupid, like giving your customers olives is something embarrassing when, in fact, it’s customary, but Harry’s looking at you with a certain curiosity, eyes bemused as if you’re entertaining him. “They’re actually quite good. I’m sure you’d like them.”

(In truth, you tried the olives once and had hated them, but you tell your customers that every single thing your restaurant offers is your favourite and the olives are no exception.)

“Oh.” Harry shrugs, then, leaning back in his seat as you duck back out from under his umbrella. “Well, if y’say so, m’sure I’ll like ‘em.”

You smile in agreement and there’s nothing left to add so you head towards the door, wiping your palms on your apron the second you’re inside. You’re sure you’ve had that exact conversation about olives of all things with ten other customers since you’ve worked here but it feels so different with him and it nearly scares you. There’s no reason you should feel so conflicted about a patron on a date who you’ve never met nor seen before but you suppose some things truly are unexplainable.

306 is ready for their check and as you grab a ramekin full of assorted olives you call to ask Brianna to print it out - there’s nobody at the door, anyway, and you need to find an empty dish for the olives, anyway. When you’ve got that and stashed the check in your apron you head back out and Harry’s sitting craning his neck glancing down the sidewalk and you hope, for his sake, that he’s right and she just got caught up at work. (And, for your own very selfish sake, you hope she doesn’t come.)

“I’ve got some olives for you,” you tell him, resting the two ramekins on the table in front of him and he glances down at them with an air of disgust that you most certainly relate to, and your face nearly splits open in a grin. “Well, they’re complimentary, anyway, so if you don’t like them, it’s not too big of a deal.”

“They look divine,” he says, and you know he’s lying but it still makes you smile. “I’ll tell y’how they are.”

“I’ll be waiting,” and that sounds like such a schoolgirl crush response and your face briefly tightens in a cringe before you walk off to 306, pulling their check out and depositing it on their table. None of them even drank their waters that they requested - assholes.

 --

 Holy shit.

You’re really feeling for Harry, now. There’s a new young couple sitting at 301 (certainly not on a first date, you’ll add), holding hands across the table and giggling loudly and they don’t break eye contact even when they place their wine order, and when your eyes flicker over to where Harry’s sitting he’s watching them with an expression that looks just a little like envy. The men at 302 lean over and share a kiss over their pasta and you wish it were socially acceptable to ask every single couple not to fucking look at each other until his date arrives because you can tell it’s killing him - and suddenly, you’re wishing you hadn’t manifested his date not showing up. You’d rather feel the slight tinge of jealousy at watching him woo a girl than feel your stomach turn with every minute that passes without someone taking a seat across from him.

You can practically see the hope leaving his body as a half hour goes by since he’d arrived and he’s still sitting alone, tapping his nails against the condensation that had formed against his glass of water, feet tapping the sidewalk beneath him. The olives sit untouched in their ramekin except for one lonely green out that sits, half eaten, in the empty one you’d given him and after you’ve finished grating parmesan cheese over 301’s calamari and bruschetta, you wrap the cheese back up in its napkin before making your way over to him, ducking beneath the umbrella and sending him a smile that he reciprocates, albeit smaller than it had been before.

“Do you want to put in an appetizer to be here when she arrives?” you ask, pulling your pad and pen out of your apron and watching as he glances down at the menu he clutches in his hands. You know what the answer’s going to be before you’ve even asked the question but it’s unbearable watching him sit doing nothing, and you’re sure he’s hungry. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to eat before a date though you’re not totally positive what kind of guy would - anyway, it’s easy realize he’s yearning for food by the way he’d been sucking on his straw just moments before when you’d been taking 301’s appetizer order, even though all that’s left in his glass are a few measly ice cubes.

“S’fine,” he insists. “I don’t want t’order somethin’ and then have her not like it - y’know?” And he trails his finger along the appetizer section of the menu as if to showcase the amount of options, chest rising and falling in a sigh. You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile as you shut your notepad and slide it and your pen into your apron, smoothing your palms over the front of it again.

“Yeah, I know.”

Then he pushes the olives away from him, ramekins sliding against the tabletop and you grin as you look down at them before glancing back up at him, raising your eyebrows with mock surprise. “I guess you didn’t like the olives, then.”

Harry shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe his hair out of his eyes and you almost want to recommend that he put his hair in a ponytail (it seems to get in the way of a lot of stuff for him) but, truthfully, you love seeing his hair down. It looks so soft and luscious and you’re sure it smells spectacular, though you’ll never truly know. “I hated them,” he confesses, and you miss the way his lips turn into a smile as you giggle, sticking the full ramekin into the empty one to make it easier to carry. “D’you seriously like ‘em? They’re horrid.”

You’re supposed to say yes, but you can’t lie to him - not when he’s already having a rough night. “I don’t like them, either,” you agree, scrunching your nose as you look down at the variously coloured olives in your hands. “But, according to my manager, I love everything at this restaurant.”

He laughs at that - a genuine one, too, tossing his head back so his hair falls off his shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. He’s contagious in every sense of the word and you’ve never met anyone like that - you’re smiling with him and feeling your heart break for him all at the same time and you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced it before. “Well, s’good t’know,” Harry says when he’s stopped laughing, swirling his straw around his glass so the ice cubes clink together. “I’ll take your advice wit’ a grain f’salt, shouldn’t I.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” you insist. “You’re special.” Your tone is teasing and to anyone listening in it’s clearly a joke but you gnaw on your tongue after the words are out anyway - he just smiles down at the table, scratching the surface with his nails.

“M’glad.” And your eyes scan the rest of your tables on instinct - 306 is up and there’s a stack of plates at 303 that you need to bring inside, but if it were up to you, you’d spend the rest of your day ducked into Harry’s umbrella, listening to him speak. But - well - you’re not being paid to talk to a pretty boy, most unfortunately, and you step out from under his covering to check out your other tables when - “Wait!”

You turn back around and Harry’s leaning back, holding his hand over his eyes to look at you and you take a step back over to him, bending down ever so slightly so you can hear him over the shitty music your boss insists on playing too loud to your outdoor guests. “Could I have a coke, please?” he questions, and you nod. “Thanks.”

Your other tables can wait - you scurry back inside, heading to the service station because you’d rather die than make him wait an extra second longer for his coke. Lauren - the other waitress on duty tonight - stands unwrapping a cheesecake to prepare for one of her tables and she looks at you with an arched eyebrow. “Who were you talking to?”

You shrug and you hope it isn’t painfully clear how your heartbeat thumps against your chest like a damn drum. “Just the guy at 305.”

“Oh.” Lauren pauses where she’s mixing the tupperware container of homemade whip cream to place on the cheesecake as you fill your glass with ice. “What’s his deal?”

“I think he’s being stood up,” you tell her.

 --

 Your suspicion is confirmed the next time you drop by Harry’s table, when he’s chugged his entire Coke and the rest of his water and he simply sits there, scrolling on his phone, and it’s like you can see how his battery has drained.

“Hey,” you call, voice soft as though you’re talking to a child, but you need to assess how upset he is about the situation before speaking in any other manner. You’d made the mistake before, started chatting too cheerfully to a lady being stood up and she’d shouted at you, called you a wench and a bastard and all other sorts of names you couldn’t recall before storming out, leaving a $20 for her three glasses of wine.

It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

“Has she texted you?” you ask, motioning down towards his phone. It’s certainly not allowed to speak to customers in such a casual manner about things other than the menu and whether they’d like to split the check but nobody’s around to reprimand you for bending the rules a bit - why not? 

He shakes his head - it’s what you’d expected but your heart still aches for him and you wish you could reach out, perhaps give him a hug if he’d want it or listen to him rant about the situation. Anything to make him feel better. “S’okay,” he insists, and to his defense he can play the part well. Doesn’t seem entirely too torn up about it and he’s looking at you like you’re a friend rather than his waitress and it makes you feel comfortable. “But - f’you don’t mind - can I order an appetizer now?” You smile, already fishing for your notepad and your pen (a sparkly black one, just for the sake of being fun.) You’re glad he’s getting something and if his date happens to show up, she’d ought to eat whatever he chooses simply as an apology for being over a goddamn hour late. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite?”

The question takes you by surprise but you regain composure quickly, feeling your face and neck heat up because Harry’s staring at you as though you’re some sort of God - like you hold the answer to the meaning of life instead of the best thing on the menu and it makes you feel good. Appreciated. “I love the risotto balls,” you admit, shifting to stand next to him so you can trace your finger along the menu in his hands, pointing to the very first appetizer listed on the page. “And the shrimp and broccoli rabe is delicious.”

“I hope you’re not lying t’me.”

“I told you,” you begin, meeting his small smile with a wider one of your own and it achieves its desired effect - his spreads wider, and you wonder if he thinks that you’re as contagious as you consider him to be. “I’ll never lie to you.”

“And why’s that?”

He’s full of questions. “Because you’re a nice customer.” It’s sort of the truth, though you think you’d scare him away if you told him the full entire truth is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve laid eyes on in your life. “When some customers are assholes, I tell them to get the vongole - it’s horrible.”

He raises his eyebrows at that with another grin, resting his menu down on the table and gazing up at you with his full attention. “Well, I trust you. I’ll get the risotto balls, in tha’ case. An’ then - whenever she gets here, I’ll get something else.”

You murmur sounds good and you don’t have to write it down in your notepad to remember it. You’d nearly gotten carried away with the conversation, nearly forgotten that he’s being fucking stood up and probably doesn’t want you to flirt with him like an idiot because you’re sure acting like one. God, no other waitresses act like this with their customers and you really, truly never have before - yet it’s something about him. You can’t fucking help yourself.

You take his Coke to refill it - he doesn’t ask and you won’t charge him for it. He simply deserves it, and you think that’s reason enough to bring the glass back inside, fill it to the top with soda and deliver it back on top of his coaster the next time you go outside to make your rounds. Harry’s appreciative, naturally, and has no reason to question why you gave him another drink to begin with. For all he knows, your restaurant has free refills, and you’ll let him think that. There’s no reason to make him pay for another drink - he’s having a bad enough day already - even though, when you’d glanced down at the watch adorning his wrist as you’d given him his drink and seen that it’s Gucci. 

No amount of money can buy a first date, you suppose, and you hate yourself for thinking it. You’d give him a first date. A million, in fact. And it’ll never happen but you can certainly dream, and you hope it doesn’t show in your eyes as the men at 302 order a panna cotta and cheesecake for dessert - 301 is digging into their pizza, looking so hopelessly in love with each other, and you catch Harry looking at them again.

The risotto balls are ready for him when you’ve delivered the desserts to 302, and you grab the plate and a block of parmesan and head right out to him. His eyes are on you the moment you step out the door, gaze looking ravenous and he’s most certainly just excited for his appetizer but you still let his watchful eye make your stomach turn.

No parmesan cheese for him - well, that’s fine. You tuck the block under your arm and tell him to enjoy, and he tells you he most certainly will before digging in and it only confirms your suspicion that he was fucking starving. In fact, by the time you’ve finished chatting to 304 about how delicious their gamberetti pizza was, one of the balls on the plate is gone and he’s staring at the second one like a man dying of hunger, but he doesn’t touch it. Surely waiting for his date to arrive to feast on it while he can talk about how nervous he was that she wasn’t going to show up that he was even entertaining the flirtatious waitress.

Gentleman.

 --

 The next twenty minutes are a blur - 304 is up and two tables in Lauren’s section are, too, and you don’t have much else to do so you help Brianna clear and wipe and set them all. By the time you’ve finished and returned the hostess’s grateful smile 302 wants more drinks and a chocolate mousse to split, and you pick up their empty panna cotta and cheesecake dishes and rush them back inside. 301 decides they want their check and they look like they’ve gotten into some sort or argument and you’re almost glad - though you’re sure they’ll be too angry to leave a good tip, you’ll take it if it means it may make Harry feel a bit better about being alone.

It’s 8:15 PM the next time you risk a glance at your phone. Only forty five minutes until you close and there haven’t been any new table sat for the better half of twenty minutes and you pray it stays that way - or, at the very least, they go to Lauren’s section instead of yours. Brianna is clearing 301 (they got up and left in a hurry and, as you’d expected, your tip is a few measly dollars) and your other tables have no need for your assistance yet so you make a beeline to Harry’s table the second you get outside and he’s watching you, sad smile toying at the corner of his lips.

“How were the risotto balls?” you inquire, drumming your fingers against his table. It’s a silly question because anyone with eyes can see how he’d gobbled half of the appetizer up, the other still untouched in their bowl of sauce, ricotta lazily tossed on top of it. You’re sure it’s cold now but you don’t quite mind them when they’re chilly - may even taste better than having them sizzling hot. “Looks like you liked them.”

He nods, pushing the plate away from him as though he can’t stand to be near it. “It’s really good,” Harry tells you and pats himself firmly on the stomach twice to prove it. It’s a silly motion that brings a smile to your lips anyway and you really, truly can’t help it. “M’gonna save the other one f’when she gets here.”

Hope is a good thing to have, you decide, and he’s clearly still holding onto it. You’d never been stood up before but you’re sure you’d have given up on the idea of a first date long before he had and you applaud him internally for that - he’s patient and kind and understanding, you decide. Much more tolerant than anyone else you know would be in this sort of situation and it only adds to the growing desire you have for him, but you push it down - for the sake of professionalism. “Well, that’s nice,” you tell him and he smiles, the expression tight and complimentary. “Can I get you anything else?”

“M’good,” Harry says, “but - can y’show me where the bathroom is inside?” He motions with one swirling finger to the empty glasses in front of him and his grin looks rather embarrassed when he looks back up to you. “Think I drank m’drinks a bit too fast.”

You laugh out loud at that and if he notices that your giggling goes on for just a beat longer than  appropriate, he doesn’t acknowledge it and wow, don’t you feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Laughing at his joke-that-wasn’t-a-joke and feeling your face burn up when you look at him and having your stomach turn when he stands up to follow you into the restaurant and holy hell, he’s tall. You feel embarrassed walking in with him behind you because you’re not sure what he’s looking at, and what if you have a stain on your jeans? Or the back of your shirt? He’s dressed so nice and your face is fucking flaming and you avoid eye contact with Lauren as you point him towards the restroom.

“Thanks, love,” he says, voice thick and heavy as he maneuvers through the indoor tables to get to the restroom and you send him off with a small wave - just a jerk of your hand - and the second he’s out of sight you wipe your palms on your apron again.

Lauren’s making a cappuccino and so you flock over to her, naturally. You can tell she just redid her ponytail because it sits higher on her head and you think you should do that too, so you pull your black scrunchie out of your hair and work on assembling it into a better ponytail.

“That’s the guy from 305, isn’t it?” she questions.

“The guy I took to the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh - yeah.” You swallow, bending down to glance into the metal of the espresso machine to see your blurred reflection, making sure your ponytail is as smooth as possible before tying it up. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s nice.”

She hums softly, grabbing a small spoon and stirring the coffee once then twice before resting it inside the cup, already reaching for another cup to begin another. “Are you sure he’s being stood up?”

You scrunch up your nose, leaning back against the counter and tilting your head in slight confusion. “I’m pretty positive - he’s been here for, like, an hour and 15 minutes waiting for a girl and he’s still hopeful that she’s going to come.” And then you sigh, the noise overly dramatic and your coworker rolls her eyes. “Why?”

“He was checking you out, babe.”

You raise your eyebrows, head turning to the side so fast you swear you nearly get whiplash as you stare at Lauren. She simply stands, making her cappuccino as if she hadn’t just blew you away with her observation and you’re sure it meant nothing but it still has your heart thumping violently against your chest and you exhale. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Girl, I was watching - he was. His eyes never left your ass. He almost ran into the door, too.”

“You’re lying.” “Why would I lie? He’s cute, isn’t he? Aren’t you happy?”

“Laur, he’s being stood up. I know he is. He’s not focusing on my ass - he’s probably crying in the bathroom right now.”

She laughs at that, hooking her finger in the handles of the two cappuccinos, steam billowing from both of them like a fire. “Well, maybe he is being stood up, but - I swear to god - he’s into you.” And then she’s walking back down the aisle between tables to reach the front of the restaurant, headed out the door without another glance as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you and you stare after her, mouth agape and palms sweating and you wipe them on your apron once more.

 --

 Harry returns to his seat and, for a while, you don’t check on him.

He seems fine, anyway. Decently enough. Sure, his drinks are still empty  in front of him and he leaves that one risotto ball alone and, every so often, he glances up and down the sidewalk before bringing his gaze back down to his phone but it doesn’t quite look like he needs anything.

Anyway, it’s 8:30. Even if she shows up they wouldn’t be able to stay very long and, no matter what, he deserves a fulfilling first date. Maybe she did get caught at work and, when he leaves, they’ll laugh about it. Reschedule it for a different day where he picks her up from her house, and then who knows? Maybe they’ll go ice skating or see a movie. And this entire situation will be something they’ll laugh out and forget and they’ll probably get fucking married, with your luck.

You’d be happy for him, of course. And even though you’ll likely never speak to him again after he leaves for the night, you do want the best for him, though you think the best for him would be you and not some girl who stood him up with no text.

303 is gone after spending entirely too long sitting and chatting and you wave them off with a goodbye and a bright smile, grabbing their check just as Brianna runs out to begin clearing it off. Full glasses of water are dumped into the plants and you help her bring them inside before going to deposit the check - it’s a nice tip and you’re thankful. They’d been a kind enough table but sometimes those are the type to screw you over with the tip and you’re beyond glad they hadn’t - you’ve had a strange enough night without the added weight of no tip.

You head back outside with 302’s check and drop it at their table, returning their grateful smile with one of your own. There’s nowhere else to go or visit besides 305 and so you head over to him, ducking underneath his umbrella for what seems like the thousandth time that day and it’s then that you can see his face, ever so slightly crestfallen as he stares at his phone and your heart just about drops into your ass, and without a second thought you pull out the empty seat across from him and sit.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and you’re fairly certain you already know, but there’s no shame in inquiring further - his phone is clutched in his hand and he looks up at you before clearing his throat and that’s enough confirmation for you.

“She’s out wit’ her friends - they’re at a bar.” And, as if to prove it to you, he slides his phone across the table to you and you crane your neck to glance down at the screen and it’s an Instagram story - a boomerang of four girls clinking their drinks together, and you scrunch your nose. “She’s the one on the right.”

The one on the right is decently pretty - blonde hair straightened and falling down her back, drink spilling over the edges of her glass when she clicks it too enthusiastically with her friends. Her dress is tight and sparkly and nearly overpowers the entire story and you can already make your mind up about how you feel about her and, needless to say, it isn’t good.

“Oh.” You watch the boomerang for another couple of seconds before pushing his phone back over to him and he gives you a tight lipped grin. “I’m sorry, Harry. That really sucks.”

“S’alright.” He shrugs and you can tell it isn’t alright but you don’t say anything else until he adds, “I wasn’t tha’ into her, anyway. M’friend wanted to set us up. I guess she wasn’t really into it but - I wasn’t either. S’all fair.”

Your heart hurts for him - she wasn’t into it but you know he was and before you can think to stop yourself you reach over, resting your hand over his and holy shit. You shouldn’t do that. He can lie and say he doesn’t mind but you know he does and you’re still his fucking waitress - you shouldn’t touch him like you’ve known him any longer than two hours. Just as you go to pull away with a frenzied apology he’s turning his hand around so your palms are pressed together and then he squeezes your hand with a soft sigh and you’re nearly paralyzed at the motion.

It can’t be more than a few seconds that you two sit like that, his hand tight around yours and you can hardly breathe, heart thumping in your chest before he says, “What time d’you close?”

“Uh -” you clear your throat just as he releases your hand and you withdraw it immediately - your hands are sweating and you press them on the table. “We close at 9, but - I only have one more table, and they’re about to leave … so …”

“What else d’you have t’do?”

“All my closing stuff,” you begin, sticking up your fingers as you list each one. “I need to roll silverware, get ice, put the glasses away, take the trash from the bathroom. And then I’ll probably get something to eat.”

Harry nods, gazing almost wistfully into the night as though he’s some sort of philosopher and you lean in, waiting to hear whatever he has to say next - “Could y’eat with me when y’get your food? If y’don’t mind.” And it takes you a moment to react as he adds, “S’just - you’re nice t’talk to, an’ all tha’. But y’don’t have to.”

You swallow thickly, already feeling your stomach flipping and your knee jiggling and you nod - first a quick jerk of your head, up and down, and then faster. 302 is arranging their stuff to leave, grabbing their boxes and shoving their credit cards into their pockets and you wish you could tell them to get the hell out because you can’t start closing until they leave and now you really have a motivation to leave. “Yeah. That - that sounds good.”

It sounds more than good, in fact, and you don’t even care if you’re some sort of rebound to him in this moment - you’ll take it. You’ll eat your dinner with him and then whatever comes after - you don’t care. You just want tonight, or, at the very least, right now, and anything after that is simply a bonus and you’ll deal with it later because he wants to eat with you. He wants to hang out with you. He likes you, and maybe even in that way, too.

You’re standing up uncomfortably fast, nearly tripping over the seat you’d inhabited as you rub your palms together. “Well - um. My other table is getting ready to leave, so I’m gonna - gonna start doing my stuff.”

“Sounds good,” and he’s so casual with it that it sends heat blazing up your cheeks, and you turn to head back inside with a newly found skip in your step that’s too full of joy to be embarrassing.

Brianna’s already begun the silverware when you get inside - with only 2 tables left, there’s no need for her to stay, but you tell her that you’ll roll if she does the other closing duties and she accepts because she’s horrific at rolling silverware. They’re always loose and lumpy and too big or too small and none of you want to tell her because it’s easier to just make pretend like it’s your favorite closing duty to do - well, whatever. She’s gone downstairs to get a bucket of ice before she can ponder on your insistence and you settle in your seat, grabbing a knife and two forks and resting them in the middle of your linen to begin to roll.

You have the motion down nearly to an instinct and it gives you time to glance outside. Through the windows you can see just the side profile of Harry’s face, only slightly illuminated by his phone screen as his lips wrap around his straw, surely sucking on the dissolved ice cubes in one of his glasses and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest - you nearly drop a fork when you go to begin a new roll.

 --

 Your pasta is ready entirely too soon.

You’re finished rolling silverware and the ice is filled and the bathrooms are stocked and clean but you hadn’t emotionally prepared yourself enough to eat with him. But your fettuccine sits, steaming on the counter ready for you to pick up and you stab the ticket once you’ve confirmed it’s yours, grabbing the burning hot plate with your one hand and grabbing a spoon with the other.

You can still see Harry’s side profile when you peer out the window and he’s glancing around, eyes darting from the sidewalk to the door as though he’s waiting for you and you know you can’t keep him alone for another second, so you inhale a deep sigh and walk out the door, pasta in hand.

He just about perks up when he sees you, back straightening and dropping his phone onto the table. You swear he’s about to get up and pull the chair out for you, too, but you beat him to it - duck underneath the umbrella and rest your plate on the table, slipping into your chair with ease and a soft cough into your fist.

(You’re not sick - not in the slightest. It just alleviates your stress, you suppose. Eliminates some awkward silence.)

“Hey,” Harry says, elbows resting on the table so he can look at you in full and you can already feel your body flaming as you pick up your spoon, sifting it through the thick pasta on your plate. Alfredo - God, it’s your favorite. You’ve been trying to branch out and try more things on the menu but it always takes you back to your damn fettuccine alfredo. “I hope this isn’t weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you insist, collecting a spoonful of pasta and bringing it to your mouth. The smell is intoxicating and you pause when the spoon is just an inch from your mouth. “I’m sure you had a rough night.”

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat as you take a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as though you’re pondering something important. “It wasn’t too rough,” he tells you, and you raise your eyebrows. “It would’ve been bad - but you helped.”

“Really?”

“Sure y’did.” You take another spoonful of fettuccine as he continues. “It sucks t’be stood up, but you were nice.”

“I could tell you were upset.”

“An’ you couldn’t tell you were makin’ it better?”

You think for a moment - think back on the countless interactions you’d had with the near-stranger sitting across from you, pulling the plate with one lone risotto ball over to him - and then shake your head. “I just thought you were being sweet.”

He laughs, reaching for his abandoned fork resting on the side of the plate and cutting in to the second risotto ball - you can tell how much he’d been longing to eat it simply from the expression on his face when he takes the first bite - with a shrug. “Sure I was,” and you laugh at that, ripping the piece of bread on the side of your plate and half and dipping it in the sauce, “but you must’ve realized I like you - didn’t you?”

“Well, I did think it was curious that you held my hand.”

“Y’did it first.”

“Well, the technicalities don’t matter.”

It brings a grin to your face to hear Harry laugh at you, curls flopping in his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he chews on a particularly large bite of his risotto ball. Your pasta is already nearly gone (you’d vastly underestimated how hungry you were) and you scrape the sides of the plate with your bread, collecting all of the excess sauce on the dough. “Was feeling a bit guilty,” you confess, drumming your fingertips on the tabletop, and he tilts his head at you, “‘cause I was starting to feel a bit thankful you got stood up.”

For a moment you wonder if you’d said the wrong thing - if you’ve ruined this entire thing before it’s even started, because it’s an uncomfortably real risk -, but then he’s reaching out to rest his hand overtop of yours and your body overflows with relief. “I agree,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand, and you swallow. “Y’had me prayin’ she wasn’t going to show up.”

You smile, looking down at the table and your empty plate and his half eaten risotto ball that he’s already taking another bite of and it all seems so surreal - like you’re going to wake up in your bed an hour before your shift starts, cursing yourself out for creating such an immersive reality - but nothing about his touch on yours is fake. It’s all so spectacular - so real - and you exhale. “We’re closing in 5 minutes,” you tell him, and his eyebrows scrunch together like he’s seen something he regrets. “Reckon we should take this someplace else?” “Someplace else?”

Your stomach flips and you wonder for what feels like the millionth time this evening if you’d made a mistake - read him wrong - took things too far. It’s an unfortunate habit you have and you certainly wouldn’t be shocked if you’ve put your foot in it this early into the relationship - you’ll regret it, but you regret a lot of things. In a couple of weeks, you’ll forget about it, won’t you? You’ve done it before. But you simply shrug, motioning with your free hand to the empty tables among you both. “I live - um - a couple blocks up the road. If you want to come over. And - it’s fine if you don’t - just putting it out there.”

Harry stares at you, expression nearly blank, for a beat too long and you shift in your seat - but then there’s a smile stretching across his face, and he pushes his half-eaten risotto ball in towards the center of the table. “That sounds perfect,” he tells you, and your heart thumps in your chest once more.

 --

 For the record, you hadn’t anticipated having anyone over to your apartment tonight, and it shows.

There’s dirty dishes from the previous two days piled in the sink, shoes strewn all over the entryway and when you peer your head into the sitting room, your pajamas are strewn over the couch next the wine stain you’d spent hours trying to scrub out. Your face burns as you turn the lights on and Harry steps inside, head turning left and right as he examines your living space and you wish you’d cleaned up after yourself before you left for work - you’ve been meaning to do the dishes - why hadn’t you done them?

“It’s - um - not much,” you begin, shutting and locking the door firmly behind you and motioning with your arms to the entirety of your apartment. “And it’s kind of dirty. I just didn’t expect anyone to come here, or I would’ve fixed it up a bit.”

He smiles, peering at the photos adorning your walls. “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he insists, bringing his finger up to trail along the high school graduation photo you’d taken with all of your friends until he spots you, smack in the middle, holding up your diploma with a wide grin - you don’t speak to half of the people in that photo anymore, but you love it. Love reminiscing on a time before college and work and rent, where you could just relax with your friends. “Y’look awfully pretty in this photo.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, clasping your hands behind your back as you watch Harry examine each photo. None of them are interesting enough to warrant his level of attention and you’re sure he’s simply trying to be polite but you still appreciate it - it’s nice to imagine that he has that much interest in a photo your mother had taken of you and your dog on a hike. “Do you want me to - to pour some wine or something?”

“That’s alright,” he says, turning around to face you and you glance up at him with a soft smile as he rests his hand on your shoulder, fingertips trailing up and down your arm and sending goosebumps popping up over your skin. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt like this about a boy and it’s making you fucking crazy, torn between wanting to wrap your arms around him or have him bend you over the counter - you can’t quite decide. 

“Alright.” You roll on the balls of your feet as Harry steps into your kitchen, leaning against the counter with an air of casual arrogance and adoration as he stares down at you. You pad into the kitchen behind him and press your palms to the countertop, lifting yourself up to sit beside him, and you hum softly. “Well - we could talk, then.”

“Y’wanna talk?”

“I wanna do whatever you wanna do,” you confess, and it’s the truth.

He hums at that, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and you watch him, breath caught in your throat, as he pushes himself from the counter, doing nearly a full spin before landing directly in front of you and your knees part to allow him in between them like an instinct - your face heats as he pushes himself closer to you, thighs closing around his waist. “Y’seem nervous,” he says, palms pressing to the counter on either side of your body and you inhale a shaky breath, shaking your head.

“I’m not nervous,” you tell him, even if it’s a little white lie. “I just haven’t done this in a while -” and that isn’t a lie in the slightest.

“Ah,” and then Harry nods like some sort of therapist, hands already dropping to your waist, fingertips scratching at zipper of your jeans as if testing the waters. “An’ you’re sure y’want this?”

“I’m positive - please, Harry, I really want this. Wanted this from - from the second I saw you.”

It’s all the approval he needs, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans with ease and you loop your arms around his neck, using him as leverage to lift your hips up and he pulls your jeans off and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up by your knees. The next step is your panties, so damp you can tell he feels it through the fabric when he pressed his fingers against you and your hips jerk into his hands, dropping your head into his shoulder as he exhales.

“I’ll go slow,” he tells you, voice low and raspy and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make it sound like that or if it just naturally happens - well, you can’t decide which one is hotter, truthfully. “Jus’ wanna make y’feel good, love.”

“Mhm,” you nod, gnawing on your bottom lip as Harry hooks two fingers in the crotch part of your panties, pulling them to the side and the cold air of your apartment hits your cunt in a way that has your breathing picking up and he pauses, fingers so dangerously close to where you need them. You know he’s going to ask if you’re okay - if you want him to stop - and you don’t, not by a fucking long shot, and you push your hips into his hand as way of answering his unasked question.

Harry takes the hint, of course. He isn’t stupid.

Two fingers circle your clit, spreading your moisture along the sensitive nub like he’s been wanting to do it all fucking night - there’s some sort of desperation to his movements that has your legs tightening around him, head burying further into his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around one of your thighs, hoisting it further up his waist. His breathing is hot against your head as his digits slide up and down your folds and you’re not sure if he’s attempting to tease you or not but, no matter, it’s working. You’re ready to get on your knees and beg for him if you need to, but just as the thought crosses your mind, his fingers dip down to slide in between your folds.

A soft moan emits from your throat as his hand smooths up and down your thigh, fingers dipping just barely into your cunt before pulling out - and he does it a few times, giving you a bit of what you want and then tearing it away and you whine, thrusting your hips into his hands and Harry presses a kiss to the side of your head before sliding his fingers inside of you. Two to start, just to ease you in, pushing them in slow and steady until you can feel his cool rings pressed against your pussy and you throw your head back with a moan.

He pauses, lip still between his teeth as he stares at you, your chest heaving beneath him and body fucking quivering in his gasp. “Tell me how it feels,” he breathes, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, and you swallow your desperate whine for him to move.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, smoothing your hands up and down his neck as he stares at you as though daring you to break his gaze. “Please, Har -”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me - with your fingers, Har, please - make me feel so good -” and just to top off your request you lean in, crashing your lips so violently against his that your teeth clash and tongues collide, and you can taste everything you’d served him that evening and holy hell it tastes delicious. Perhaps it’s just him, dropping your thigh against the table so he can grab onto the back of your neck and keep your face attached to his, lips parted and wild and dominant as he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in with a newfound vigor -

The levee breaks, then, with your lips mashed together, and you’re more than thankful for it.