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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 3 years ago

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Interview - OT7 CEO au Pt 9

TW: mentions of sexual assault and harrassment, some bad thoughts, some bad people.

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“Why are you interested in a position with us, Miss L/n?”

But that was the thing, you didn’t want a position here, circumstances had you sitting in front of 8 out of 9 of e.Xo’s CEOs (one was currently attending to business in China) for an interview. You meet Kim Jun-myeon’s gaze with trepidation, fingers fumbling as you tried to fight the regret running around your body, blaring like a fire alarm. You don’t want to be here, but this wasn’t just about you anymore.

If you didn’t leave your current job you knew there would be more and more problems in your relationship with your CEOs. You would hear the words the other employees were whispering about you, hell some slapped you in the face with their words, and you wouldn’t or couldn’t tell the boys about it, you would end up letting it fester until it affected all of you. For the sake of your relationship, for the sake of your sanity and all your achievements, you needed this job.

“Y/n…?” The lead CEO stared at you with a puzzled expression when you took too long to answer, the atmosphere in the room growing a little awkward.

“I think this is the right choice for me and my career,” you answer simply, but they didn’t know how deep your words ran. You wouldn’t mind working here, not really, the bickering between some of the bosses here reminded you a lot of the 7 you loved, you’d fit right in. You pretend as if the similarities wouldn’t cause your heart to ache, or the differences you couldn’t help notice.

“We’ve seen the way you’ve handled the contract with our company,” Kim Jongdae offers you a smile with his words. “We have to say we’re impressed, we couldn’t find a single fault in your work.”

“I have a lot of dedication to what I do,” you grin back but it doesn't meet your eyes. Here a CEO was complimenting you but his words didn’t have an affect on you like they did. You can hear their praises whispered in your head, if you took this job you’d never hear it again. Tae wouldn’t call you his good girl anymore… Jimin and Jungkook wouldn’t keep you company at your desk while you worked or play games to distract you. Yoongi wouldn’t play fight with you during the day, Hoseok and Jin wouldn’t call you into the office with a random excuse just to see your face and make you stay. You wouldn’t be able to stop Namjoon drowning in his work load or help relieve his stress when it got too much. All the things that made your day better would be gone.

“I think we really like what we see here,” Kim Jongin smirks at you, and you didn’t miss the flirting tone of his voice but it did nothing to your heart. The e.Xo CEOs were all very good looking, this you couldn’t deny, but you felt nothing for them, and it made you long to be back at your office where you belonged.

——————————————————————————

“Jackson, can you ask Y/n to come pick up the new project files from my desk please, I need to discuss it with her,” Namjoon doesn’t look at their secretary when he asks, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his thoughts from his face.

“She’s not in today,” the blonde replies, making all seven of his superiors snap their faces towards him.

No wonder why there are so many rumours, these guys are so obvious, Jackson would never judge an in office relationship, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t judge how well it was handled.

“Where is she?” a deep rumbling voice said in a serious tone. Taehyung glared at the poor man as if he were the one keeping you from him.

“She requested a day’s leave,” was all Jackson said in response.

“And it was approved at such short notice?” Hoseok frowned, company policy was to give a month's notice for planned leave, exceptions were of course sick leave or family emergencies and things… of course he was forgetting you were also entitled to not come in if you were, for example, attending an interview. Well he didn’t forget, he just didn’t consider it as a possibility at all.

“Human resources approved it,” Jackson shrugged, starting to feel a little sweaty with the stares from the CEOs.

“Thank you Jackson,” Namjoon dismissed the secretary who bowed before he left.

There’s a loud sigh from Yoongi as the door closes, his eyes closed with it as his thoughts bear down on him now that they were alone.

They hadn’t seen you all weekend. No calls, no texts, nothing. Yoongi would swear you were a figment of his imagination if it weren’t for the fact 6 others confirmed your existence with their longing in your absence. The last image he had of you was when you ran out of that staff room in tears, and he couldn’t forget it.

He tries not to scowl at Jin and Jungkook when he opens his eyes again, he tries not to let irrational anger overtake him and blame them both, but it was starting to become a losing battle. The two aforementioned executives were looking downtrodden enough without anyone elses harsh words, they kept replaying their own scene round and round in their heads. The last time they saw you…

After Hobi had found the security footage from the staff room, the others were called to see it too, Namjoon in all his wisdom left Jin and Jungkook behind to wait for you to come out. And eventually you did, but you didn’t want to see them. Jungkook remembers the cold way you pushed him away as if it were his fault when he tried to hold you, the way you couldn’t look at his crying face. Jin had left him alone to get you food and water before you came out, perhaps it would have been different then, perhaps he would have convinced you to stay and talk to them. Then he wouldn't have the memory of running after the back of your head through the company doors before you disappeared.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Namjoon breaks the silence and growing tension with his voice. “But she just needs space, and we need to respect that.”

“She could at least tell us she’s okay,” Jimin snaps back, misplacing his own anger in that moment, but Namjoon understood he was worried and let it slide, this time.

“What if she blames us?” Jungkook’s voice is quiet, a mumble, but they couldn’t pretend they didn’t hear it. A new wave of rage and regret flushes through their systems, the image of you and that piece of trash in the breakroom. The look on your face… it may haunt them forever.

A knock on the door does nothing to quell their anger, in fact it may have caused it to grow more. It was a sound they were expecting, and as the target of their rage finally walks through to them, unshielded, they could let the cannons loose.

“Alex,” Namjoon growls his employee’s name like it was a disease.

“Mr Kim, you asked for me?” there was no trace of the arrogance or confidence from the man on the tape. This pathetic excuse of a human being was already sweating, but who could blame him when he was met with the sight of 7 fury filled CEOs glaring at him. He could feel each one of their stares on him like the red laser of a gun, ready to fire, he gulped as he made his way to the middle of the room like the bullseye on a target. Their office was always dark, always intimidating to outsiders, the air was powerful on most days, but today he was suffocating in the silence, too bad he didn’t know the silence was so much better than the wrath that was approaching.

“I assume Y/n spoke to you about friday,” he said quickly, desperately. “But I promise you it was a complete misunderstanding, I was trying to find her today to apologise, I didn’t realise you were all so…”

Kim Namjoon’s eyebrow raises in question as the sentence comes to a stop despite being so incomplete, but he lets the pause talk for him.

“I didn’t realise you were all so close,” Alex breathes, feeling compelled to finish his sentence, even if it wasn’t the original ending.

“Y/n didn’t say anything to us about anything,” Yoongi exclaims stoically, keeping his eyes trained on the dirt in front of him.

“Did something happen with Y/n that we should be aware about?” Hoseok can’t keep the seething tone from his voice, he can’t help spit the words like poison from his mouth, fist on the desk with his knuckles turning white.

Shit… Alex didn’t think you’d tell them, you didn’t seem the type, plus it wasn’t as if anything actually happened to make a big deal out of, but he nearly let it slip like an idiot.

“No, no… like I said, just a misunderstanding.”

“If something has happened in our company Alex, I think we have a right to know,” Namjoon pushes. “So tell us about this ‘misunderstanding’.”

“I-I asked Y/n out,” why was he sweating so badly under their stare? Why was he stuttering? All he had to do was brush it under the carpet, he had gotten away with so much before, this was just another thing to add to the list. “And she said no, I may have insisted that she reconsider.”

“That doesn’t sound like a misunderstanding,” Jin says calmly, too calmly, like the middle of a hurricane with every possible exit lined with a storm ready to tear him apart. “So why were you looking to apologise?”

“You know women,” Alex tried to laugh all while remembering that these men were sleeping with you, and even though he knew nothing romantic could be involved, he had to be careful not to overstep. “They say no but mean yes, I should have backed off and realised she was already seeing someone, why else would she have said no, right?”

“Because single women would never say no to you,” Jimin’s laugh makes the object of their interrogation feel very small and insecure. The audacity of this cockroach.

“It seems our employee here has a rather outdated dating style,” Namjoon chuckles, but there’s no humour in his voice. “I suppose because she’s seeing someone she’s ‘owned’ by them right?”

“I think we’re about to have a misunderstanding Alex,” Taehyung doesn’t hide the venom in his voice. “You might want to explain better.”

“L-look I don’t know what’s going on here but I asked out Y/n, I’m not that keen on her anyway, she said no and I walked away,” Alex rushes in his poor attempt to ease the seven.

“That’s not what it looked like to us,” the youngest CEO let his anger simmer quietly while the insect spoke until it made his blood boil over the top. The penny dropped.

“W-what?” he stammers, taking a step back in shock.

“You sexually harrassed an employee in front of the CCTV,” Yoongi explains with a cunning grin. “Have you ever read your contract Mr Pettyfer?”

He can’t speak, so he shakes his head in answer like a fool.

“When you signed your contract you agreed to a number of penalties should you do the following,” Yoongi continues, enjoying the way the scum was shaking in front of him when he brought his hand into the hair and counted the rules with his fingers. “One, breach of confidentiality regarding the company. Two, money laundering. Three, assault or sexually assault an employee of the company or a member of the public.”

“You’d be surprised what we uncovered over a weekend of digging,” Namjoon says disgusted. “You’ll be pleased to know the relevant authorities have been informed, and you won’t have to worry about your misunderstanding with Y/n, with all the shit we found she won’t ever need to make a statement, and she won’t ever need to see your face again.”

“However if she chooses to,” Hoseok bares his teeth like a wolf about to bite. “We’ll be happy to provide whatever evidence is required to support her.”

“You can’t do this!” Long gone is the face of innocence as Alex snarls at the seven. “Think about my career, how hard I’ve worked!”

“Think about the women you hurt,” Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat in his reply to the selfish bastard.

“You’ve destroyed my career over a girl,” he seethes back, missing the way Jin pressed the direct line to Jackson on his phone, notifying the secretary it was time wordlessly.

The seven men watch as the authorities drag the scoundrel out as he fought them tooth and nail, but it does nothing to make matters okay inside them. They wouldn’t feel fine until they saw you, safe and okay.

——————————————————————————

You’re hesitating, you know you are, the longer you did the more anxious you became. What if they were angry with you? And if they weren’t when they heard where you were today they would be. What an absolute mess! You bury your face in your hands as you gather the strength to knock on the door to the mansion your boyfriend’s resided in.

Deep breaths did nothing to calm you down. You groan at the memory of pushing the maknae away, Jin’s voice as he yelled after you when you ran away. All of their voices through the door… Your eyes are watering at the scenes replaying again and again. You’d have to tell them what happened, but you wouldn’t use it as an excuse for your behaviour, you were just so scared they wouldn’t understand, that they’d tell you off and be disappointed in you somehow.

You take a deep breath, fingers of one hand playing with the strap of your back nervously while the other finally approaches the door. It swings open before you can touch it, and you see a blur of a person before you’re engulfed by three bodies.

“I told you I saw her car,” the sound is muffled from outside of your cocoon of maknaes but you recognise Yoongi’s voice.

You’re about to speak when you hear sniffling from the body in front of you, the one who got to you first. Jimin was holding you from the back, arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed himself as close to you as possible, nuzzling his face into your back. Taehyung held you from the side, arms trying to find purchase on any part of you he could as he buried his head in your neck. Which left Jungkook as the crying culprit, moulded to your front with your head against his chest. Your arms wrap around him the best you can with this unsteady huddle, but you can’t find your voice to speak, it was being pushed down your throat by the grief.

“Do you three want to let her in?” Yoongi sighs in mild annoyance, itching to tear the maknaes away from you so he could hold you too. But he’d smother you with his own love later, right now you needed to breathe. It takes a beat too long for Yoongi’s liking for the three youngest CEO’s to acknowledge the older, small grumblings coming from your back but no attempt to let you go was seen. “Now.”

Yoongi rarely had to use his commanding tone, it was funny how any time he did it always involved these three.

Slowly hands seemed to peel themselves away from you, and you desperately didn’t want them to move away, it was safe in the dark of their embrace, you would have to acknowledge the issues in the light.

You avoid their gazes awkwardly, looking to the floor but Taehyung wasn’t having it. You feel his large palms cradle your face as he brings it up to meet his eyes, offering you a small smile, it looks sad you think. You really must’ve hurt them with your silence, you think, not realising what was actually going through their minds.

How dare he touch my flower, he thinks as he searches your face as if the cockroach had hurt you more than what they had seen. He kisses your face gently, every inch of it he could as softly as he could, as if it would heal the wounds he couldn’t see, the ones he knew were there.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi’s voice warned. A final kiss to your cheek and he lets you go once more only to grab your hand to bring you to the entrance of their home.

“Hi Kitten,” Yoongi finally smiles as you approach him, resisting the urge to pull you into his embrace. He offers you his hand instead, pleased when you take it with the one not attached to the taller man. He leads you into the house, his own nerves fluttering like your own, but for different reasons. How do they tell you they knew what happened that day? It was best to let Namjoon take lead on this, and that was where he was taking you.

The door to the living room reveals the principal CEO with his head in his hands worrying on the sofa. He doesn’t acknowledge the sound of you all making your way in, the sight has your heart sinking, detaching your hands from the two men as they watched you step towards Namjoon.

He finally lifts his head when he feels your touch on his arm, unable to word his shock when you climb onto his lap, straddling his legs as you bury your head in his neck, clutching onto him desperately. There’s an apology on the tip of your tongue but you hold it back, how were you going to explain what happened and what you’ve done since? What if he pushed you away when you did?

You close your eyes when you feel him return your embrace, arms encircling around you as you hear two others rush in to see you.

“Sunshine!” “Y/n.” Jin and Hobi were so relieved to see you, but a look from Namjoon has them all silent, they had to tell you they knew, and they had to do it right. Their bodies surround you both, trying to get as close as possible without disturbing the pair of you. Namjoon side eyes Jimin on the floor as he shuffles closer until he leans his head against your thigh, but makes no move to keep him away. He sighs, this weekend took a lot out of all of them, and it was only a couple of days without you. Jimin traces his finger on your leg where his head lay, needing to touch you somehow to ground himself.

“Y/n,” Namjoon starts but pauses when he feels your fingers clutch onto him harder still. He called you by your name, not the term of endearment he held for you, which only meant one thing in your mind, he was serious and he was upset with you.

You try to stop the way your lips pout sadly, they way your eyes water at the sound of your name.

“Baby girl,” he tries again, pressing a kiss to your hair as he hesitates again. This was harder than he thought it was going to be. “We know what happened on Friday…”

He feels you tense in his hold, limbs seizing as the news settles in.

“We’re so sorry,” he says solemnly, the heads of the others bowing in sorrow.

You dig yourself out of his neck, looking at him in shock, why was he apologising? They did nothing wrong. He could see your puzzled expression at his words, letting the back of his fingers stroke your cheek fondly. He missed you so much.

“We background check all our employees, every company is vigilant in its checking of references, and somehow we let this scum through our doors and he hurt the one person we want to protect most,” he can’t keep your gaze as his voice grows thicker. “We’re so sorry that you had to go through this baby, but we promise you it will never happen again.”

No it wouldn’t… because you wouldn’t be there anymore, not if you accepted the job you were offered today… You cant find your voice for your own confession, not when you weren’t expecting theirs.

“He’s been dealt with,” Hoseok says with a stern expression, you turn to meet it as he speaks. “You don’t have to get involved with this if you don’t want to, he’s going to pay for a long time, we’ll make sure of it.”

You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, too many emotions spun around in your stomach until you felt sick.

“We’ll take other precautions at work for all our employees, we’ll make it safe,” Jin promises.

“And as for our relationship at work,” Yoongi continues, “we need to talk about what we can do to make it more comfortable for you, we won’t behave like that again.”

You have to look away, it was too much. They wanted to make it work, they never wanted you to struggle because of their love for you, and it made you feel guilty. Communication, it was why your previous relationships failed, why some didn’t even begin.

Namjoon’s fingers hook under your chin to raise your gaze to meet his. You take a shaky breath, feeling your heart break as they braced themselves to finally hear you speak.

“I have to tell you something…”

——————————————————————————-

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lalainajanes · 4 years ago

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For klarosummerbingo, my “mango lassi” square! Did I order Indian food for dinner? Yes, yes I did.

Masks Off

When she notices the goon tailing her – shaved head, seasonally inappropriate leather jacket, neck tattoos – Caroline’s pissed off.

And exhausted.

She’d spent all day cooped up in the boardroom at Forbes Industries, listening to men twice her age complain about dividends and try to suggest that workers didn’t really need a raise subtly.

It had been a tedious and pointless exercise, one she suffers quarterly. Caroline holds 51% of the company’s shares and can easily wrangle another block of shareholders into voting with her. Her parent’s wills, read out fourteen years ago, had bequeathed a stake in FI to several loyal employees. People they’d loved, who’d stepped in to help raise Caroline after they’d passed.

The board knows she has the final say, and it kills them. They think she’s an idiot, that she’d bought her degrees and can’t comprehend the financial statements. They try to ply her with compliments and flattery, attempt unsubtle fibs – Caroline plays dumb and tolerates the bullshit because she knows she can control them. Another board might not be so easy to manipulate.

She’d had a headache by the time the meeting had wrapped, had been so grateful to see Enzo waiting at the curb. She’d practically dived into the backseat of the town car, had rolled the partition down, and enjoyed a satisfying debrief and bitch session on the drive back to her apartment. Enzo had offered to grab her dinner before he went off the clock, but Caroline knew he had a date night planned. She’d shoed him away, told him she’d order in.

Once safely tucked away in her place Caroline had gotten restless.

She’d changed out of her boring suit, pulled out the pins in her hair, and loosely braided it back. After changing into a pale blue cotton dress and pair of oversized sunglasses, then selecting a few Forbes Industries prototypes, Caroline had headed out for sustenance.

She hadn’t bothered to let her security detail know. She’s adept at sneaking away under their noses. The detail is mostly for show, to make sure no one connects Caroline Forbes, wild child heiress, to the vigilante who’s working on tidying up the city streets.

She’ll slip into the leather ensemble she’d commissioned once night falls and load up with weapons. Then she’ll head to the garage where she keeps her armored vehicles and larger toys.

There’s a new villain who’s been popping up more and more frequently on her patrols. She hasn’t caught him doing anything untoward just yet, and he’s yet to make the papers and have a ridiculous name bestowed upon him. She’s scoured papers from England, then the rest of Europe, checking to see if there was a reputation that preceded him. So far, she’s found nothing, but Caroline knows he must be working on something big.

Why else would he be so determined to attract her attention? He must have some kind of plan cooking up, wants her looking in another direction when he enacts it.

The walk to the restaurant had been uneventful. Caroline had to wait a few minutes for her order to be ready, but passing the time on a bench outside, unnoticed, her people-watching undisturbed, had been a nice change from how she’d spent the rest of the day.

It promised to be a hot evening, even though the sun would be setting shortly. Sweat had begun gathering near her hairline, forcing curls out of her braid. Caroline had added a mango lassi to her order and collected her dinner, inhaled appreciatively at the warm, spicy scent emanating from the paper bag.

She’d begun her walk home, sipping her drink contentedly, weaving through the growing number of pedestrians who were venturing out for the evening.

She’d noted the guy shadowing her about three blocks from her building, had heaved a dramatic sigh that had the guy waiting for the walk light with her edging away.

She’d just wanted to stuff herself with naan, biryani, and saag paneer and become one with her couch for a few hours before she went out to take out her frustrations on some bad guys. Was that too much to ask?

Caroline takes a turn, heading east to where there should be fewer people, reaching into her bag to slide her fingers into the modified brass knuckles (not actually brass but a proprietary FI compound) and grasping the extendable baton.

She takes another turn to check that she’s not paranoid, but the goon mirrors it.

As does another person.

Caroline pretends to adjust the strap of her dress, twisting her head to get a better look at her second pursuer. It’s an impressively muscular woman, her considerable height only enhanced by her spiked hair, dressed in skin-tight shorts and a mesh crop top.

She doesn’t seem to mind that Caroline’s spotted her, wiggling her fingers and offering a challenging smile.

There are two possibilities. Either the people following her are cocky and stupid – really the ideal scenario – or they’re cocky because they’ve got a solid plan and some big guns.

When a hand grabs her upper arm and yanks her into an alley, spilling the mango lassi and staining her dress, Caroline suspects it might be the latter. She’s thrown against a wall, just managing to get her hands up to save her face from being smashed into the brick.

She hears footsteps pounding against concrete, and the two pursuers she’s noticed join the man who’d yanked her into the alley. Regretfully, Caroline drops her takeout and her bag and backs away, hiding her weapons in the folds out of the skirt. She forces a quaver into her voice, “What do you want?”

It’s unlikely that three people who seem to have stepped right out of the goon for hire catalog have just decided to rob her. Caroline doesn’t want to assume there’s a larger plot. She’s hoping this won’t turn into a big thing, and she’s out of luck if people are planning to kidnap Caroline Forbes for ransom.

But it’ll be even messier if a bad guy’s clocked her extracurricular activities.

The spiky-haired woman takes the lead, stalking towards Caroline. She’s got a knife in her hand now, “What do I want? Twenty million dollars, to start with.”

Oh good. It’s just a kidnapping.

Honestly, kind of an insulting one. She won’t even have to liquate any assets to come up with the twenty million. Caroline stops moving, straightens her spine. “Done!” she chirps brightly. “Wire transfer, or cheque? I can do cash too, but that’s like ten briefcases. What are you going to do with them after?”

She’s been hoping to catch her attempted kidnapper off guard, but the woman doesn’t falter. She snorts, “You’re funny. I didn’t expect that.”

“Thanks, I get that a lot. I’m chock full of surprises.”

Spike lunges forward, and Caroline dodges, stepping past her and whipping her arm out, until her weapon lengthens fully. She crouches, extending her leg and spinning while slashing with her baton. Caroline lands a brutal strike on Spike’s kidneys. Spikes grunts, stumbles forward, arm banding over her stomach protectively. Caroline completes her spin and rises, catching Spike with a punch before she pauses, poised on the balls of her feet, back to a wall.

Her would-be kidnappers no longer look as confident. Spikes spits blood, expression enraged. The other two watch Caroline with calculative gazes.

“Girls gotta keep in shape, right? The tabloids are brutal. It turns out the elliptical is super boring, so I had to find something a little more fun.” Caroline leaps forward, tucking into a roll, snagging a brick from the ground and using her momentum to throw it into Leather Jacket’s face.

The brick makes contact with a gross crunch of blood, bone, tissue, and teeth. Leather Jacket howls, his hand coming up to cover his head. She jumps again, thighs locking around his neck, spinning to bring him to the ground. She digs her knee into his spine, gripping his head and slamming it into the ground for good measure until he goes limp underneath her.

Caroline stands, wiping her hand on her already ruined dress. “One down,” she says.

Only to instantly regret the proclamation. Bonnie says she needs to lay off on the monologuing, and maybe she’s got a point.

She senses movement behind her, near the mouth of the alley. Caroline turns warily, head swiveling between her two attackers and the men who are now freaking rappelling from the rooftops. Six of them. In black tactical gear, strapped with weapons and wearing black ski masks.

Well, crap.

If she’d been on patrol, with her protective suit and gadgets, she might have been able to take them. Now, in flats and a sundress, with two flimsy weapons and no backup, she doesn’t like her odds.

Caroline tosses the baton aside, pastes on the smile she uses when she has to ignore paparazzi shouting rude questions about her sex life at her. She lifts her hands slowly, palms open. “So, I’m guessing you don’t only want cash, huh?”

“Funny and smart,” Spikes says spitefully, coming up behind Caroline and yanking her hair. “What a rosy life you must lead.”

She feels a sharp sting in the side of her neck, then a flood of wooziness. Brief pain when she collapses.

She’s vaguely aware of being heaved up and over someone’s shoulder, of being alarmed by how her limbs won’t cooperate when she tries to fight back. She’s tossed in a trunk, encased in blackness.

Caroline fights it, the tiredness, her thoughts growing meandering and disorganized. When the engine rumbles to life underneath her, Caroline loses consciousness.

* * * * *

Caroline realizes she’s tied to a chair as soon as awareness returns.

She can hear voices murmuring, too soft for her to make out any words even when she strains. Caroline’s slumped over, pulling against the ropes. She’s definitely going to have some fun bruises tomorrow. Her head’s resting limply against her chest, and she stays as still as she can, barely opening her eyes while trying to get a good look at her surroundings.

Unfortunately, she seems to be in a pretty generic warehouse—grimy, smelly, cavernous, decorated with random overlapping graffiti.

She spots a tray of shiny, sharp medical instruments to her right.

Which is not ideal.

Caroline tests her bonds slowly, checking for any give or weakness. Any kind of opportunity. One of her captors has eagle eyes and notices her movements. She flinches when his voice booms out, “Sleeping beauty awakes!”

Damn it.

Caroline lifts her head, rolling her neck to work out the cramp that’s developed. “I prefer the modern Disney princesses, thank you.” She’s not the type to wait around for a handsome prince to come to her rescue.

She studies the guy who’d spoken. He’s got steel-grey hair and tanned skin, thick biceps. His face doesn’t show even a hint of emotion, and he doesn’t acknowledge she’d spoken. She’d guess he’s a pro, probably some variety of ex-military, likely expensive. Caroline hears the clomp of heavy boots and twists her head to see some familiar faces joining the party.

Moderately damaged familiar faces, but she’s not sorry about that.

“So about that ransom,” Caroline begins hopefully. “Twenty-five million, was it?”

The guy who’d taken a brick to the face grunts, “Thirty now. For our trouble.”

Caroline can admit that’s fair.

“I get it. Plastic surgery’s not cheap. Not that I’ve had any work done, despite what the tabloids might claim. I’m only twenty-seven. Of course my boobs look fantastic in a bikini.”

No one even cracks a smile.

“Okay, so you’re not interested in jokes. We could discuss the fact that it’s super gross that people follow me around the world and stalk me with long-lens cameras. Am I not entitled to take a vacation?”

No response.

Caroline sighs, shifting in her chair in an attempt to get more comfortable. “Tough crowd.”

Spike drags a second chair over, sitting down and resting a booted foot on her opposite knee. “Thirty million dollars. I have a list of six prisoners that I need to be released from the Super Max. And I want something from the Forbes Industries Vault. The subterranean one that most of your employees don’t know about.”

Caroline tips her head back, considering. Thirty million dollars, no big deal. The prisoners might be hard to arrange, but she’s got connections. She knows exactly who she’d need to bribe. She can always scoop them up later, wrap ‘em in a pretty little bow and leave them on the steps of city hall.

The Vault though? That’s not happening. She’s going to have to figure out how they even know about it, who else might have bought the info, but that’s a problem for later.

“How about fifty million dollars and a couple of extra prisoners? Maybe someone from the asylum?”

Spike leans over, her hand drifting over the tray of instruments. She plucks up one with a serrated edge, twirling it through her fingers. “I know you’re used to snapping your fingers and getting everything your little heart desires, but this isn’t a negotiation.”

She leans forward, resting the blade against the dip between Caroline’s collarbones. She taps it against Caroline’s skin with each carefully enunciated word, “Money. Prisoners. Vault.” She pulls back, gives the instrument another spin. “That’s my only offer. You can say yes, and we’ll give you a phone, so you’re servants can start arranging things. Or, we can do this the hard way.”

She doesn’t insult Caroline’s intelligence by spelling out what the hard way would entail.

Caroline swallows, straightens her spine. “No one gets in my vault.”

Spike sighs in faux disappointment, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “The hard way it is, then.”

Caroline closes her eyes, holds her breath, waits for the first cut to come.

It doesn’t come from where she’d expected.

Glass shatters from high above, showering down, leaving dozens of tiny nicks across her bare shoulders. She feels a rush of air before a body landing in front of her, knees bent.

A familiar man, one who’s been taking up way too much of Caroline’s free time, smirks at her, “Hello, love.”

Caroline gapes at him, and he pivots, backing up until her bent knees brush the back of his calves. She sees few bright flashes, but his back obscures her view of what’s happening. Whatever he’s doing, it’s painfully loud. Popping sounds interrupt shouts and screams of pain, and heavy thuds ring out. Caroline cringes, tucking her ear against her shoulder in an attempt to muffle the cacophony.

Silence, when it comes, scant moments after the chaos began, is jarring. Caroline leans as far to the side as she can, eyes widening when she spots the pile of bodies. She watches as the man, who she doesn’t know if she can call her rescuer since at this point he might also be planning on ransoming her, yanks a handful of zip cuffs from his pocket.

He moves swiftly and with grace, seemingly very at home his body and aware of its capabilities. Caroline’s eyes narrow, mind whirling as he secures her attackers, and she tries to assimilate this new information. He pulls off his leather gloves when he’s done, returning to her side. His expression grows regretful, and his fingertips brush her shoulders, skimming over the cuts and scrapes there. “Sorry about these. The skylight was the best entry point. Make sure you clean them up, hmm?”

He steps passed her, and Caroline feels him make quick work of her handcuffs. She hears the snick of a knife unsheathing and stiffens, but he only uses it on the ropes that bind her legs and torso. Caroline shakes them off, stands hesitantly.

“Okay,” she says, crossing her arms and turning until they’re once more face to face, separated by the metal chair. “What exactly is happening here? Who are you?”

“I’m afraid I’m not yet ready for you to know my identity. In due time, I promise.”

Caroline sucks in a sharp breath, her teeth grinding together. “Um, how about no?”

He blinks, and Caroline steps a little closer. They’ve always met in the dark, and he’d purposely stuck to the shadows as he’d teased and tossed questions at her. She’s never been this close to him. His eyes are blue, his lashes annoyingly long in a way men never appropriately appreciate. He wears a black mask, covering from the top of his forehead to his upper lip. His hair is slicked back, but she thinks it might be on the lighter side, given the shade of his stubble.

He clears his throat and shifts his weight, but he doesn’t step back or shy away. “I… I beg your pardon?”

“I have had a garbage day. It was long, it was boring, I had to argue over things I know I’m right about, with people who think I’m a bimbo and spend way too much time trying to look down my tops. My dinner got tossed aside when goons r us scooped me up. I love this dress, and it’s ruined. I’m bleeding. I don’t know where my shoes are. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and I want to go home!” she’s shouting when she’s done ranting, out of breath.

“Right.” Her rescuer, she’s decided on the term now, shoves the chair aside. He steps forward until his feet bracket hers, wraps his arm around her waist. Caroline grips his biceps, too shocked to admonish this rude invasion of her space. “Hold on. Step up onto my feet.”

She throws her hands up in frustration, “Hello? Did anything I just said sink in?”

His lips, which she’s now noticing are very nice, full and soft looking, compress. She’s pretty sure he’s trying to swallow a laugh. “I heard every word. I’m trying to assist in getting you home. In service of that, if you could please step up onto my feet and hold on.”

His right arm rises, and Caroline recognizes the device in his hand. She’s about to ask him if he’s seriously rescuing her with a device he’d stolen from her but thinks better of it.

He’d stolen the grappling hook from a vigilante who rocks a rose pink leather catsuit, not from Caroline Forbes. It would have been a monster slip, a true testament to how rattled she is from the day’s events that she’d almost blurted out her secret identity to a guy with questionable motives and an unknown name.

Instead, she smiles tightly, loops her arms around his neck, and gingerly steps onto his heavy boots. “For future reference,” she says sweetly, “I generally only like following orders in the bedroom.”

The strangled choking noise he makes as they hurtle upward is immensely satisfying.

* * * * *

Two days later, Caroline’s on her couch watching news footage of a gala she’d been supposed to attend. She’d had a great dress, red and scandalous, all ready to go, but trying to cover her scabby shoulders with makeup had made her look like she’d contracted some kind of infectious skin issue.

She’d sent her regrets and a fat check, resigned herself to a solo evening in her comfy sweats. On her TV, a society reporter’s chattering away about the guest she’d just finished talking to, a lech who’s at least smart enough to hire a publicist good enough to hide his dealings with loan sharks. She trails off in the middle of a sentence, fingertips coming up to press at her earpiece.

The reporter looks right at the camera, excitement on her face. “I’ve just been given some breaking news! A surprise guest has arrived, all the way from the UK. Klaus Mikaelson has shied away from public life since his messy exit from his father’s corporation five years ago. He’s built his own tech firm from the ground up. Buzz had been building since they announced their intention to go public. Let’s see if we can get a few words.”

Bored with the fawning, Caroline’s just about to switch channels. She knows all about Klaus’ Mikaelson’s company. Blurbs about it have been showing up in the intelligence reports she has complied since he’d lured a pair of promising engineers from FI’s Paris offices.

She’s planning on investing in his IPO because he might have scummy HR policies, but his business is sound.

There haven’t been many pictures of him available; apparently, he’d hardly been a social butterfly even when he’d been welcome in the family fold. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen or so in the ones Caroline’s seen, in which he’d been gangly and angular and sporting a terrible haircut.

The image changes, swinging to the red carpet before Caroline can grab the remote. She pauses, impressed because Klaus Mikaelson has grown up nicely. She might be distracted by the flawless fit of his tux, which Caroline knows can cover a world of sins, so she leans closer as the camera pans up to his face.

And promptly drops her wine class.

The blue eyes. That smile, the dimple it carves into his stubbled cheek. She’d brushed her lips over that cheek barely more than forty-eight hours ago when she’d thanked him for what he’d done for her.

Klaus Mikaelson had accompanied her home the other night, had neatly deflected her probing questions, his amusement never turning to exasperation at Caroline’s dogged persistence.

She’d seriously considered inviting him into her home. She’d told herself it was only in search of more information, but a tiny part of her, the one that was unfailingly honest and sometimes gets her in trouble, had admitted her rescuer intrigued her, even without a name.

Well. Now she has one. A plan forms rapidly, and Caroline scrambles for her phone, digging it out of her couch cushions. She taps the screen, connecting a call to Bonnie. “Bon? Sorry to bug you when you’re off the clock. But I need you to find someone for me.”

She stands, walking into her bedroom as she explains what she needs.

Bonnie’s a genius, well worth the exorbitant salary Caroline pays her. She gets the address within an hour.

* * * * *

Caroline drops a rope onto the terrace of Klaus’ apartment, slips down with barely a whisper of sound, landing lightly. She hugs the side of the building, inching over to the open French doors. She’s fully suited up, hair tightly controlled, and mask on. She eases her foot over the threshold, eyes darting around.

Ugh, of course, he has excellent taste.

Caroline likes light and airy, fun patterns and textures. But she can appreciate the sumptuousness of Klaus’ living room. It’s done up in burgundies and neutrals, hints of gold. There’s a buttery leather sofa facing a fireplace, thick carpets that muffle the sounds of her boots as she walks further in. She can imagine a pleasant night in front of a crackling fire, curled up on the couch when the weather turns cold.

But she’s getting ahead of herself.

Her nose twitches, picking up the smell of curry, cardamom, and turmeric.

She hears a door click shut, whirls to find Klaus, barefoot and still dressed up from The Gala, though he’s ditched the jacket and tie. He leans against the now-closed doors to the terrace. He smiles at her warmly, “Hello, Caroline.”

Which answers one of her most pressing questions.

Caroline yanks her mask off, tossing it aside. “I realize this is going to give you déjà vu, but what exactly is happening here?”

Klaus pushes off from the door, ambles towards her, studying her reaction carefully. Caroline doesn’t flinch away or retreat. “I have a proposition for you. And I have dinner. Takeaway from that place you visited the other day when your evening plans were… interrupted. I even got the mango lassi.”

Caroline narrows her eyes, “I have weapons, you know. Way more than you’d think, given how tight this outfit is.”

He laughs, a low husky sound that Caroline knows would be easy to get addicted to. “I’m sure you do. I’m not worried about you using them on me. I only want you to hear out my proposal. You can leave anytime you wish.”

She wonders if it’s stupid to believe him, but she does. He’d had the upper hand two days ago, had no trouble dispatching the group that had taken her. If he had nefarious intentions, he could have picked up right where they left off with the torture.

Caroline’s learned to trust her instincts. They’re telling her she’s safe.

She tugs her hair out of its elastic, loosens her collar slightly, pulling the zipper down a few inches. “Mind lending me something to wear? This totally isn’t designed for sitting for long periods.”

Klaus directs her to a guestroom, gathers a few things of his for her to wear. When she gets to the dining room, she finds he’s arranged the food on gleaming platters and lit candles. Her mango lassi, in its plastic cup, looks wildly out of place.

Caroline refuses to find it endearing.

At least until she’s confirmed that her instincts are correct.

#klaroline #klarosummerbingo #klaroline fanfiction #batman vibes #but where the author is only aware of batman because it's a ubiquitous pop culture thing #so maybe bad batman vibes idk

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indianamoonshine · 4 years ago

Photo

c h a p t e r | i

summary: every summer you work on your father's strawberry farm with your three sisters. it's a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. this year, your father's old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. din djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become...well, let's fact it...smitten.

rating: m (18+) for future and explicit sexual content.

author's note: reader is well over eighteen for obvious reasons. i won't ever go into physical detail about the reader's appearance because we include everyone. this fic is pretty much a mix between pride & prejudice and call me by your name except without the und*rage crap we do not condone. so, without further ado, here's an aesthetically pleasing fanfic.

the moment din djarin laid eyes on you he knew he was a dead man.

at first, his view of you had been obstructed because you'd opened every door and window in the house. june in the midwest sometimes required such nuisances, so all of the curtains billowing in the breeze prevented him from looking upon you.

you were also on the couch, but he hadn't known that until you lifted a hand - soft as a dove's - from the back of the sofa. you played with the light between your fingers, shielding its dazzling rays from your eyes, just before setting it down again. your hands were so small (smaller than his anyway) and gentle. he imagined how foreign your skin would feel in warm contrast to his; how your fingers would feel intertwined with his calloused ones, which had done enough work throughout the years to be mistaken for a beggar’s. within the first moment, he saw you as flawless.

your father had not stopped for breath since din arrived, lamenting about the farm or discussing the layout of the home with an eagerness din had yet to match. he would've initially been interested in the history of the farm or how many sprawling acres rolled endlessly before them, but his eyes couldn't leave your hand.

you must've been asleep - napping in the embrace of the sun - because as soon as your father drew breath upon entering the living room, your voice tickled din's ears for the first time. sweet as music.

"dad? is that you?"

din couldn't help but blink at the sound of your voice. it seemed unnatural, like one hears in dreams or spiritual awakenings. he manages to compose himself at your father's side, straightening his posture to err on the side of caution.

your father exclaims with a joyful "ah!" and then introduces you by name.

"my daughter. one of them, anyway. she and the three eldest help during the summer," he had said, and then turned to the bay windows to go on about the view.

but you meet din's eyes, rested and glimmering with curiosity, while your father droned on in the background. you reach out a hand - the one he'd thought of holding - to shake.

he does. and it's every bit as beautiful as he knew it'd be.

"how do you do?" you give him a polite and pretty smile. if he hadn't known any better, you bat your eyelashes for good measure.

your father's tour continues but din can't stop thinking about the way your skirt rose to your thighs as you stretched awake.

|||

you were lying if you said you didn't think about him for the rest of the day.

you weren't the only one. your sisters - all three of them - had also met the mysterious din djarin.

"who is he?" charlotte asked while you congregated at the nearby pond. it was a lovely place, nestled within the thick of the woods and bursting with greenery. flowers of every kind blossomed around you and scents the air with a sweetness.

rhea lays in the shade of a peach tree. "one of dad's old friends," she says. she waves herself with a floral paper fan she'd gotten from chinatown while visiting you in new york.

"but why is he here?"

madeline, who paints with her watercolors, pipes in. "i heard he got into some trouble with the law and now he's in hiding."

you roll your eyes with a scoff, lounging in the grass and watching the clouds in the bright, blue sky. "madeline, that's absurd."

rhea (who is the oldest and most pragmatic) surprises you when she shrugs her shoulders. "i don't know. he looks likes a bad boy..."

you recall the way his jaw clenched as you introduced yourself - his neck was tempting. his skin glowed with a radiant hue in the sunlight and his eyes shone with an aura of broodiness. he was very austenian.

"boy is hardly the word," you correct.

charlotte, being the flirt, wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. she swims in the pond, hair wet and fanning against the water. she sinks lowly for dramatic effect. "how right you are."

"trouble or not, he was a perfect gentleman." rhea sighs and skims the water with her forefinger. "either way, he's easy on the eyes so i don't mind having him around."

easy on the eyes was putting it mildly. you wouldn't say that to the girls though; they had a habit of teasing when you showed interest in anyone attainable let alone a man decades older than you.

"don't do anything stupid, charlotte." madeline dips her paintbrush into her mason jar full of pond water.

charlotte huffs and flips her hair from her shoulder. it makes a splash, rippling the water as a result. "why not? we're all of legal age."

"he's dad's friend and a guest," you remind her, tearing your gaze away from the clouds.

the middle child lets out a pathetic whimper. "you guys are no fun," she groans.

|||

it was a busy season on the farm.

strawberries were ready to be picked by mid june and there was a three week window to do it. harvesting wasn't easy and it took a lot of man work. hands went numb, skin grew calloused. the sun that beat down on the fields was only manageable by the sprinklers that went off every blessed-ed fifteen minutes. during a drought, it was even worse.

the employees picked from seven in the morning until five in the evening. your father was adamant that breaks be plenty and pay be as prosperous as he could afford, but a strawberry farm wasn't a fortune five hundred company. he did what he could to provide the families with some semblance worthy enough to continue, and so every year he threw a dinner party.

it was always a lovely occasion, brimming with delectable treats and savory entrees. candles were aflame, lanterns lit up the pathway that lead to the entrance of the home and then the land leading into the woods. as a child, the dinner party was as exciting as a birthday. it was a night to look forward to all year long, sharing time with family and friends and gorging yourself on food you wouldn't eat any other friday of the week.

your sisters loved it too, mostly because they enjoyed the promise of gossip that poured from the mouths of guests like the wine served. and now that din djarin - a stranger, in all respects of the word - was attending an annual dinner that's managed to keep as tradition for years, gossip would surely be abundant as the wine itself.

guests arrived by the hour until the clock struck seven. the evening was crisp but warm enough to be comfortable without a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. the rock doves sung loudly to declare that sunset had begun, a few rogue and early lightning bugs blinking rhythmically. children of the employees ran throughout the fields bare footed and chanting taunts to their friends as their parents chattered among themselves.

home. here is home.

while the party had already begun (officially, at least), dinner hadn't yet been served. admittingly, you were a bit behind schedule, but you worked quickly to finish setting the tables. the theme was simple; linen napkins and wildflowers in random antique vases you found in your basement. the lilacs you'd picked from their bushes were already beginning to limp but you hoped no one would notice.

you hum when you work. whether it be intentional or not you find your lips buzzing with a tune plucked subconsciously from your brain as your hands busy themselves. you straighten the tablecloths, fill the vases with water, and set the silverware in their particular order. needless to say, you had a tendency to get lost in your own little world. so when a hand gently tapped you on the shoulder, you spun around with a shriek.

din djarin - man of the hour - is smirking handsomely at you, hands fiddling with a depressed looking lilac. you place a palm against your heart and count its beats. too many.

"mister djarin," you sigh out. "you scared me."

he lets out a breathy chuckle, hands running through his wavy locks. "i see that. i'm sorry, but i was just wondering if you'd like some help."

his voice...oh, stars and garters. it was so rough but tender - like a steak. you cock an eyebrow at how strange the comparison is but convince yourself it didn't matter. still, you're blushing from the jump so you duck your head from his gaze.

"there's not much left to do," you admit, turning back to the table. you spread your hands against the tablecloth to ward off any wrinkles. "you can double check if i missed any forks, i suppose. i have a tendency to do that."

din hums in his throat and nods a little. "sure," he says, moving to the first setting. his eyes scan along the silverware carefully. "where are your sisters? they don't help, huh?"

"they're better at entertaining," you say truthfully. "i volunteer to take care of the dinner part...as long as i don't have to socialize as much i'm content."

it was true. it's not that you had an aversion to people in general, but you tried to avoid conversation whenever possible - it wasn't your strong suit. you could get away with it when need be but you found it took too much energy to pretend to enjoy conversation about the weather or politics.

"i understand," din nods. he straightens a spoon with the nudge of his finger. "i find myself to be the same way."

there's an awkward silence between the two of you. you didn't know how to respond. while you weren't good at social situations in general, you found it natural to feign interest in subjects bland enough to circumvent discomfort...but you felt the need to impress him.

"so you'll be staying with us this summer then?" you decide, falling short. how stupid.

din nods swiftly. "yeah. in one of the cabins."

the cabins were located at various points of the land your father owned. in order to get there, one usually took an ATV or walked if the going gets tough. you preferred to stroll along the river, but your sisters liked riding the four wheelers or their bikes.

"which one?" you ask, tone mindless.

din's finished with double checking your work. he pulls out a chair - an old, wooden antique - and sits down upon it with caution. you stifle a laugh and, if he notices, he doesn't say anything. he'd soon learn that everything here was old but sturdier than they looked. you wish you could say it was for aesthetic purposes but it was more convenient than anything.

"the one closest to the pond," din replies lowly.

you notice how his eyes survey your form and how intimate it was. he was studying you but for whatever reason you couldn't be sure. you try to shake away the idea that he could be (dare you say?) pining over you. how silly. like you told charlotte: din djarin was off limis.

that was the end of it.

you find yourself blushing again so you hide your face. "that's my favorite one," you tell him honestly. "i like the view."

din smiles in agreement. "so do i."

if you weren't so heated with frustration, you would've called him out on the implication (as out of character for you it may be). then again, you found yourself weakened by the mere presence of this man. it wasn't unlike you, per say; you were naturally timid but there was an eagerness to his charm that you weren't familiar with. guys your age were so sure of themselves but it was almost always under false pretenses. this man however...well, he was a man and that was intimidating.

fine. it was hot.

you clear your throat in an effort to regain a semblance of poise. this summer had already proven to be laborious in a way you hadn't expected.

#DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THIS TOOK TO TYPE OUT #din djarin x reader #din x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mw1 #strawberryfic

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nitrochiralfan · 3 years ago

Text

The Day is Dawning [Tokiakari]

All credit to the transualtion of the novel chapter belongs to memera and their hard work don’t repost without crediting them.

That day it had rained since morning. That’s why for the entire day, the sky had been so dark you could not tell if it was noon or night. Right now the time was 2am. Akira breathed out a sigh as he gazed out the window. Occasionally, a straight line of light from the east flashed through the rain.

Isn’t he kind of late?

As Motomi worked as a journalist, it wasn’t surprising that he often came home after midnight, but today’s case was supposed to be a simple one.

Akira’s eyes darted over and over to the clock hanging on the wall.

So slow.

In this room lighted by only a small lamp, Akira had lost count of how many times he had sighed as he looked at the empty road outside through his own reflection on the window. They had moved here for only a month, but it wouldn’t be long before they moved again.

What’s the next case? Your work seems to be going smoothly.

At first Akira had simply been cluelessly following along, but he had quickly become a proper assistant. It had been years since the happenings in Toshima. It wasn’t always peaceful, but their life had never had any serious problems.

Travelling around with Motomi had been quite exciting and fun.At one point he even thought he could do this forever.However, sometimes the little flickers of doubt would cross his mind.

There’s no such thing as forever. Surely someday, something bad would happen.

Usually Akira could erase those thoughts quickly, but today, he couldn’t even push them away. The thoughts were quickly piling up instead.

I hate this feeling, but what if something bad had really happened?

Unable to suppress the bad feelings, Akira clenched his teeth as he stood in the dark watching the rain fall outside.

It was then that it happened. A faint sound came from the front door. Was it the sound of footsteps? It seemed too uneven and irregular for that. Just as Akira was cautiously approaching the door, an unnatural sound thumped against the door.

“….!”

Akira tensed up. He pinned his eyes at the door instinctively. The door stood in the dimly lit hall way, as the sound of someone shaking the door repeatedly could be heard.

Is it a robber or a thug?

Akira held his breath and watched silently as the door unlocked and slowly opened. Akira concentrated hard, his body ready to pounce.

The silhouette that the dim lights were showing was——

Akira breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that face.

It was Motomi.

Was that unsteady gait because he’s drunk?

Motomi’s brows were furrowed as he tried to call out Akira’s name.

Motomi did not seem to enter the room. His posture was unnatural, and he leaned heavily against the door. A droplet dripped down from his right side. At first Akira had thought it was a raindrop, but as soon as the light in the room hit Motomi, Akira knew he was wrong.

——It was blood.

“Old man…!?”

“Akira… sorry but… could you lend me a hand?”

Motomi’s voice was slow and unconcerned, a tone completely opposite to the severity of the situation. Akira immediately went up and put Motomi’s outstretched arm around his shoulder. The dark orange shirt he wore under his coat had a huge black stain on it. Just that alone drew Akira’s attention to the blood.

Motomi leaned against Akira and they moved slowly, his face frowning and his one eye squeezed shut in pain. Motomi gave a bitter laugh.

“Ow…ouch ouch. They really did me in this time.”

“What in the world happened?”

“Mm, well, you know…”

The talk can wait. Right now the important thing was to tend to these wounds. Carefully supporting this body so much bigger than his, Akira led Motomi to the bedroom.

“Man, I’m beat.”

Motomi breathed out a large puff of smoke from the cigarette he had taken a deep puff from, and fell onto the bed he was leaning on. Akira took out some bandages from the first aid kit and sighed as he closed the lid. They had prepared this kit in case of any injuries on their travels.

The hospital was closed at this hour of night, but thankfully his injuries were not too serious.

Rest for now, we can go see a doctor tomorrow.

Motomi’s right torso had been slashed with a knife.

Akira had since wrapped it in bandages cleanly. Motomi had been bleeding so bad before the bandages, yet now after it was so nicely wrapped up in white, it almost looked like there hadn’t been a wound at all. But one look at the blood-soaked towel used to clean the wounds, and you would know that wasn’t true.

“So?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me.”

Akira glared at Motomi, who was lying on the bed acting like there wasn’t a problem. Even without using words, it was obvious Akira had a billion questions he was demanding answers to. Akira haphazardly left the first aid kit on the side table and sat down lightly on the bed.

“Mmm? Well yeah…” Motomi scratched his nose with the hand holding his cigarette and replied lazily, “Maybe it was just a random attacker or somethin’. I dunno.”

——Something must’ve definitely happened, Akira thought.

If Motomi was brushing it off like that, it must’ve been something he found hard to talk about. But that was also why the silence that Akira returned was filled with serious anger. He wasn’t mad that Motomi was pretending to make light of the situation, he was mad that it was something so bad that would make Motomi clamp up in silence. Motomi peaked at Akira, saw his glare, and quickly looked away.

Silence.

Akira held his glare steady, never looking away. The smoke from Motomi’s cigarette filled the space between them.

Motomi emptied his cigarette ashes into an empty can on the side table. Even a movement as light as this, sounded extremely loud in their silence. It was a brief minute, but it felt like an endless moment of tension and nerves.

“Geez, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

Motomi let out a laugh of defeat as he put out his cigarette on the brim of the empty can. His brows were furrowed as he tried to get up.

“Does it hurt?”

“…Sort of. But I’m fine.”

Motomi supported himself up with an elbow on the edge of the bed, and leaned against the wall. He looked straight into Akira’s eyes. “Well, the situation was like this. I was attacked suddenly. There was a back alley, away from the main road. It was dark and narrow. They hit me from the back when I was passing through.”

“Did you see their face?”

“It was too dark and too sudden. I didn’t. …But well my guess is…”

Motomi stopped there, rubbing his chin like he was thinking of something.

“Your guess is…?”

“Nah, it just feels like it was a face I had seen before somewhere. …My guess is it’s someone from Rabbit, maybe.”

“Rabbit…”

——The pharmaceutical company, Rabbit. A big-named company that everyone knew. In reality, it was a coverup for the research institute ENED, that was the cause of all the tragedies in Toshima.

“But why would they do that to you, old man?”

“Well, I can think of a million reasons why. After all, I am a journalist of the truth, ya know?”

Saying that, Motomi shrugged his shoulders in a joking way.

I want to bring to light the truths that were twisted or silenced —— That motto of his was what led Motomi to do this line of work even to this day. Of course, he had also tried to reveal as much as he could about what had happened in Toshima, even though that had put his life at risk. It was also the reason why they never stayed put in one place too long. But because they had never actually gotten seriously injured before, Akira had grown complacent and ignored all the occasional little worries that would appear in his head.

If only we could just keep on living like this peacefully and carefree, he had thought.

But of course…

“Well, this could also be considered a scoop! ‘Employee of a seemingly-good company, attacks a civilian!’ or something like that.”

“Is it really the time to be joking?”

“Mm?”

The words that escaped Akira’s lips sounded calm, but inside he was mad at how Motomi always acted like everything was a joke and nothing was serious to him. Like his wound just now. Even though it wasn’t a deep injury, he had lost a lot of blood.

So much blood.

…Blood…

“…Hey. Akira?”

The sight of Motomi’s bandages was wavering in Akira’s vision.

Motomi was frowning as he peaked at Akira’s face.

Under all that white bandage, was all red. The white hides the red; the color of emptiness. Suddenly, Akira’s anger evaporated and he felt absolutely nothing. He felt separated from his vision and from his consciousness, as if he had gone into someone else’s body. An image appeared, overlapping with what his eyes were actually seeing before him. A world covered in red. A reality that felt so far away. The scene that was flashing before his eyes was not that of the room he was in.

It was dark, and dirty; a scene of Toshima.

“Oi! What’s wrong?!”

Motomi’s voice was far, far away. Akira felt like his consciousness was being swallowed up. A nausea started to bubble up in him. It felt intolerable.

“Akira? Akira!”

When Akira’s eyes opened, the first thing he saw was the beige ceiling, dimly lit by the room lamp.

—— This isn’t Toshima.

When Akira realized this, he slowly let out the breath he had been holding.

Akira had covered his eyes with an arm. When he blocked his sight this way, he could feel his heartbeat was pounding faster than usual. On that same arm, Akira felt something dry and warm touch him.

“…Are you alright?”

When Akira uncovered his eyes, he was looking right into Motomi’s gentle eyes above him.

“…Old man, what about your wound?”

“Idiot. Worry about yourself right now, not me.”

Even though Motomi’s words sounded surprised, it was dipped with concern. Motomi lifted the hand he was holding Akira’s arm with, and touched his forehead.

“You don’t seem to have a fever. How are you feeling?”

“I’m ok.”

“Do you want to eat something?”

“No.”

“But let me guess, you haven’t eaten a thing since morning right? The contents of the fridge and the food stocked up haven’t changed since I left.” Motomi looked so brusque, yet because of his work he had a surprising eye for detail.

Weirdly touched by this thought, Akira shook his head.

Although Akira had always been this way, always having little to no appetite, it was especially so when he was left alone. He just simply did not feel like eating when he was alone, and he often went the whole day without food.

Although he was usually alright without food, today he just felt rather out of it. He was starting to feel like he might have a fever.

“Even if it’s just a bite, you have to eat something. Hang on.”

This time Motomi really sounded teasing. He got up as if to go to the kitchen, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking surprised.

Confused, Akira followed Motomi’s eyes right down to…

Akira quickly let go of his hand.

Instinctively, he had grabbed Motomi’s shirt. Maybe it was the fever frying his brain, but he himself had not realized what he had done.

——He’s going to tease me…

Although Akira had braced himself, Motomi said nothing, but instead cracked a small smile. He lowered his big hand and patted Akira’s head.

“What’s wrong? Are you worried?”

“…….”

“Well we did have a smooth trip so far.”

Even though Akira did not say a word, Motomi probably knew what he was thinking. Motomi sat back down on the bed. The bed springs bounced lightly. Because he was wearing a shirt, the badges on his torso were not visible.

“Well, anyway, I kinda figured something like that would happen one day. …But really, relax! It’s nothing for you worry about at all!”

His rugged fingertips brushed against Akira’s cheek.

“I said I would bring you with me, even to my grave, right? A man never goes back on his words. Anyway you’re the dangerous one.”

“What the heck does that mean?”

“It means I can’t leave you alone. You’re always so freaking stubborn, yet also surprisingly frail.”

Akira opened his mouth to argue, but he could not find the words, so he averted his eyes instead. He could not disagree. After all, he had just passed out for no reason.

“I won’t die that easily even if I’m killed.” Motomi laughed.

Akira glared at him. “Stop that.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t talk about dying and stuff.”

Motomi might have been trying to be funny, but Akira thought it was extremely unpleasant. It was not something Akira thought one should be joking about. Motomi looked surprised for one second, then he quickly resumed his smile.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Two thick arms slid around Akira, and carefully pulled him into a huge hug.

Akira instinctively wanted to struggle against it, but his body went limp as it was engulfed in Motomi’s.

I almost forgot he was injured. Better not struggle.

But even if Motomi had not been injured, Akira somehow guessed that he would probably not have struggled either. Akira rested his chin on the strong shoulders before him. Usually at this point, Motomi would be teasing Akira, but instead of doing that, he was quietly and gently patting Akira’s back.

“Ok, how about this. I won’t die. You won’t die either. Until the day you tell us to go and die, we will keep living on for a hundred, no, a thousand years. Yeah?”

“I don’t want to live for that long.”

“Haha, I see.”

Akira could feel Motomi’s warmth from the arm he was resting his cheek on. He was wrapped in Motomi’s smell.

To be honest, Akira was surprised at himself. Despite that bad memory that had flooded his head just as he was about to pass out, Akira suddenly felt like everything was ok now. He felt like he could “exist together” with this memory. But it was just too vivid to think that way. Without losing its color, the pain would slowly but gradually overflow.

But was that alright? Akira thought. No, more like, it is alright. These wounds embedded deeply in him from all that he had lost, Akira had decided to accept and live with them from the day he left Toshima.

And thus, this pain and this fear, they were necessary. He must never forget them. They were the undeniable proof that right now, he was breathing and living.

And right now, he had someone who could share his pain and support him. Just this alone filled Akira with joy.

If Motomi said he was ok, then Akira wanted to accept that and wanted to believe in him.

Akira found it funny and a little strange that he was now able to to think this way. The large hand that was patting Akira’s back, moved up to caress his cheek. The distance between them shortened.

Akira waited for Motomi’s gentle eyes to close, then he too, did the same.

“…nn…”

They touched. Their lips met again and again. Slowly Akira got used to the prodding tongue that carefully pushed into his mouth. Motomi’s rugged fingers treated Akira like he was glass, occasionally a bit rough, but always gentle. These fingers ran through Akira’s hair, clasping. The occasional wet sounds made Akira feel embarrassed, but their intertwining, fluttering tongues quickly made that embarrassment disappear.

“…I can’t get enough of you, seriously.”

The words that Motomi had blurted out in the heat of their kiss lit a fire in the pits of Akira’s belly.

He’s always like that. He always says things that he knew would embarrass Akira. And worse, he always knew the worst time to do it.

“…That’s enough.”

Akira had pushed his arms out, trying to get away, but even his entire resistance was swallowed up in an embrace.

“Let go.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I’m telling you to let go.”

“Well that’s going to be a problem. ‘Cause I’m mad…”

“…Mad about what?”

“This old man. Is mad. About you.”

“…….”

Clearly Akira’s words were not getting into Motomi’s head. He was starting to feel super annoyed, and he let out a loud sigh. As if to scoop up all of Akira’s sighs, Motomi broke into a small smile as he pressed their lips together again.

As Akira slowly gave in, he thought, I don’t exactly hate this.

When did I start to feel comfortable with this feeling of excitement?

When did I start to feel relief whenever Motomi’s hands touched me?

This is how two people shared their feelings and accepted one another.

Since when did I start to realize this?

After a long kiss, Akira felt the springs of the bed on his back. He took in a deep breath.

———

“You know, I’ve always thought this.”

“Thought what?”

“That your cooking is really bad, you know….?”

“……”

Akira pouted and muttered unhappily to himself.

“Well fine, then don’t eat it.” Akira said, as he slammed the table with one hand and stood up.

Who was it that said they were busy so they wanted me to cook?

When they had just come back from the hospital, a work call had come in. Akira had tried to tell Motomi he should rest instead, but it was a major client so Motomi could not refuse. Akira narrowed his eyes at the gentle sunshine coming in from the window. The sky was so clear today that the dark rain from yesterday felt like a lie. Ever since he started living with Motomi, he had tried to do housework. Maybe it was because Akira never had a homely lifestyle before, but no matter how he tried he just could not get better at it.

Especially when it came to food.

Akira had always felt he was ok even if he didn’t eat. Needless to say, he did not care about the taste either.

Motomi raised a brow and seemed to want to say something but he couldn’t decide how to put it.

“Well I mean……, the person who marries you is gonna suffer.”

“Not really. It’s not confirmed that I’ll be the one doing the cooking.”

“Hey you never know. Housework and child raising is too hard for only one party. It’s important to share the workload, you know?”

After swallowing the ‘thing’ on his spoon, Motomi made a weird face. He then pressed his index finger to his wrinkled brow in a deliberate manner. It got on Akira’s nerves the way Motomi was talking him to like he was arguing with a child.

“In the first place, who would I even marry?”

“Hmm, who knows?”

“……”

Hearing that answer, Akira grew increasingly irritated.

When he said they would be together to the grave, didn’t he mean they’d be together till death do us part? Wasn’t it Motomi who said that?

But despite that, it’s not like Akira had ever gave any thought about their relationship or anything like that. It’s not like Akira had ever expected ‘Forever’ or other words like that. He just thought he wanted them to be together, for as long as possible. That was all. However, hearing such words and their vague meaning wasn’t pleasant at all.

Was it ok for the two of them to be together? Or was it actually not ok, but they just kind of ended up together? Such thoughts started to flood Akira’s head. Leaning with one elbow on the table, Motomi looked up at Akira, grinning.

“Ohh what a poor thing! I feel so sorry for the poor person who has to marry you.”

Listening to what was Motomi’s obvious teasing, Akira’s irritation turned into anger.

I was an idiot to think about our relationship so seriously!

“Old man.”

“Hm?”

“Are you done?”

“With what?”

“…Are you DONE—“

With a swoop, Motomi had suddenly stood up and slipped his arm under Akira’s thigh and arm. Akira was so shocked he forgot what he was about to say, letting his guard down. In a scoop, Motomi picked Akira right up.

“……oof, you’re really heavy.”

“Yeah no shit. PUT ME DOWN!”

Motomi grimaced and gave a bitter laugh.

He was injured just yesterday. It wouldn’t be a surprise if doing this was painful. “Ow ow ow. Don’t struggle, it makes my wound hurt more. Well anyway, don’t you think there’s at least one of these poor sobs in the world who would? Huh Akira?”

“…What?”

“I mean if it was me I’d even cook delicious food.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Akira was so busy trying to figure out how to get down that he was not really getting what Motomi was talking about. In fact, Motomi’s words were going in his right ear and exiting right out the left.

Motomi happily squinted at Akira struggling in his arms and the corners of his mouth raised into a grin.

“In fact, how about we get married right now?”

“!?”

The words were so shocking that it snapped Akira right back into attention. He stared at Motomi’s face.

What the heck was this old man talking about?

…Was my cooking that bad that it had made him go strange?

While these thoughts were racing through Akira’s mind, Motomi’s grin got wider and wider. Akira suddenly got really mad, and ignoring Motomi’s injuries he struggled wildly to get out of Motomi’s grip.

Motomi watched Akira’s reaction but continue going on about how painful his wound was, as he quietly adjusted his balance and tightened his grip so that Akira could not get away.

“Idiot! Let go!”

“Hahaha!”

Motomi’s joyful laughter reverberated from the rampaging Akira under his chin, all the way out the open window, into the bright blue sky.

END

First Publication: Cool-B 2005 vol. 3 / 2005 August 4th

——

The Day is Dawning Explanation

This was a short story published in Cool-B. The theme was Motomi and Akira.

I was trying to write that Akira, who was completely indifferent to the warmth and connection to other people, gradually beginning to realize that it was ‘good thing” after being near Motomi. And once he slowly began to accept it, he would start to try approaching people on his own accord. Akira would also start to worry about how vague the future is, and I think this shows a change in how he thinks now.

I also did not plan for Motomi to say “Let’s get married” at all, but somehow Motomi just ended up saying it (LOL). When it comes to Motomi, he seems to write himself often, just like his “Bring you with me to the grave” words.

I chose this title (Tokiakari) after seeing the dictionary explanation: “As dawn breaks, the eastern sky becomes slightly brighter, or, when it’s raining, the clouds occasionally part, and the sky become brighter”.

—Fuchii Kabura

#togainu no chi #togainu no chi gaiden #togainu no chi novel #motomi tnc #akira tnc

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notsoguiltykpop · 4 years ago

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The Tenth Floor pt22

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader & Taehyung x Reader

Min Yoongi had gone through 34 secretaries in the past 24 months, and each one of them left in tears. This fact alone should have warned you against taking the job, but the pay was too good to pass up. Surely you could put up with a billionaires temper-tantrums, right?

3 years after giving up on the nonsense that happened on the 10th Floor, and after a particularly unpleasant falling out with your former boss, you find yourselves back in each others lives. Can things have changed enough for you and Yoongi to have a fresh start? Or was the damage done too great?

Genre: Crack, Fluff, humor, some angst? Mostly crack tbh.

Word Count: Idk man, this is a short update.

Warnings: Strong language, smut talked about/implied in previous updates, some dark themes occasionally.

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21,

---

His words hung, uselessly, in the air. He shifted from foot to foot, waiting for you to say something. Anything. To make this less awkward.

“Funny, after all this time, me bringing you the wrong coffee.”

Why were those the words that came out of his mouth? He had no idea. All he knew was they spilled out in a desperate attempt to lighten the uncomfortable silence that had fallen after you took a sip, made a face, and spat the coffee back into the cup without saying a word.

“I never brought you the wrong coffee,” You replied dryly. “You just never knew what you wanted until you drank it.”

Yoongi internally cringed. That wasn’t entirely true. He usually knew what he wanted, some part of him just liked to be difficult.

He thought better than to say that.

“So this is a nice office,” He tried instead. “Nice... Desk?”

“Thanks I built it myself,” You deadpanned.

“Really?”

“No.” You sat back in your chair, eyeing him warily. “Where’s Jungkook today?”

Right to the point. “He wasn’t feeling good,” Yoongi said smoothly.

You looked at your phone, read something, and raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“He took a personal day.”

“No.” You said again. “He didn’t. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, just felt like visiting our greatest investor in person today. Speaking of, is Changkyun available...?” Even now, after these past several years of only seeing you occasionally, after basically becoming strangers again, Yoongi felt strange lying to you. It didn’t feel good. Like he was reverting to ways he thought he had left behind in therapy.

“No, something’s up, and Jungkook’s being weirdly secretive about it, too,” You leaned forward on your desk, looking him directly in the eyes. “Is there something we should know? Changkyun’s noticed it, too, over the last several months.”

“Speaking of him,” Yoongi tried to deflect. “Where did you say he is?”

“He’s out,” You shrugged. “You can talk to me about further investment.”

Yoongi grimaced. “So that’s the thing,” He coughed uncomfortably. “Things aren’t--there isn’t. Uh. It isn’t looking like there’s going to be much left to invest in pretty soon. We’re drowning.” It felt wrong to actually say it out loud, even though the numbers had been saying it for so long.

Your eyebrows knitted together. “I thought you had this whole plan of recovery--”

Yoongi shook his head. “It’s not working fast enough. Changkyun already knows the other investors pulled out. I’m here in a last ditch effort to save some jobs.” He shifted again, then muttered. “I’m selling the company.”

“You’re what.”

Yoongi couldn’t tell if you actually couldn’t hear him, or if you were surprised. He didn’t think there was any chance you didn’t see it coming--As Changkyun’s assistant, he was sure you got an inside look at how terribly things were going.

“I’m selling the company,” He said again, louder this time. “I had my chance. I ran it into the ground. My employees shouldn’t suffer for that, though. If someone like Changkyun was to buy it, at least some of them could keep their jobs...”

“You didn’t run it into the ground,” You interrupted. “And you know that. It was failing long before you were put in charge, and even then you had to cater to investors who didn’t understand what was going on. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up, and he coughed as an excuse to look away. “Thanks. For that. But,” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling restless suddenly. “Credit where credit is due, I didn’t fix things fast enough.”

“That isn’t how that saying works,” You muttered, grabbing a sticky note and jotting down a note to yourself. “I’ll talk to Changkyun.”

“Thanks,” He said, taking a couple steps back towards the door.

“And Yoongi?” You added, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah,” He wasn’t sure what it was about the way you said it that made him nervous.

“It was good to see you.”

---

Ever the playboy, Jungkook was flirting with a waitress when you walked into the restaurant.

“I’m guessing the coffee was your doing?” You scoffed as you sat down in front of him.

“Who, me?” Jungkook smiled innocently. “I would never tamper with a beverage I picked up for my best friend. Even if my annoying boss changed my plans and said he was going to your office instead of me and took said beverage. I definitely wouldn’t put five packets of salt in it when he wasn’t looking.”

“That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever--Why do you do things like this? What goes on in your head?”

His smile only grew. “Did you spit it out?”

“Who wouldn’t?” You raised an eyebrow.

Jungkook did a little triumphant fist pump. “How many times did he spit out your coffee when you worked for him?” He asked excitedly, not waiting for an answer. “And now he knows how it feels on the other side of that.”

You shook your head. “So petty,” You chastised.

“So funny,” Jungkook corrected without missing a beat.

“I would have appreciated a heads up,” You sighed, opening the menu only to have Jungkook reach over and slide it away from you.

“I knew you might be conveniently out of the office if I told you he would be dropping by,” He shrugged. “Also I kind of already ordered for you.”

“God damnit,” You complained, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. “You always do that. I’m capable of ordering my own lunch, butthead.”

“You’re always late!” He practically whined back. “And then I get awkward, and I feel bad for taking up a whole table and then some random mutters about me getting stood up--which, sorry, but do I look like I get stood up?--so I panic order!” He pouted. “Also. I have great taste. You always like what I get.”

You narrowed your eyes, but let it slide for now. “I didn’t mean a heads up about Yoongi coming in. I meant about his company tanking.”

“Oh,” Jungkook’s pout dropped. “He told you about that, huh? I guess it really is that bad...” He tilted his head to the side. “If it goes under, I might have to be a regular doctor...Y/n. I might have to see patients again.” He shivered dramatically, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” You assured him dryly. “I’m more concerned about Yoongi--He’s given it his all. What’s he going to do once it’s gone?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Actually live a little, I hope.”

A/N *cough* ‘sup let’s not talk about the fact that this has taken me nearly 3 years to update and pretend everything is normal. Yeah? Yeah. What are your thoughts and feelings? Is the time skip too extra? Or just extra enough? Would you have drank the coffee to be polite or spat it out? Let me know! As always I love hearing from you all!

If you’ve stuck around this long, omg thank you so much. If you’re new to my writing, welcome and thank you so much. It’s been a hot minute, I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe out there! I’ve been stressed as fuck and figured there’s no better cure than writing absolute crack. Stay tuned for nonsense!

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zalrin · 4 years ago

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Dream SMP x Detroit: Become Human AU

DSMP x DBH AU Part 2

Background Information: I was inspired to do this after watching Tubbo's play-through of Detroit: Become Human. At first, I was planning on posting art with descriptions, but I'm over flowing with ideas and not enough artistic talent to hurry along...

Author's Note: Okay, I'm going to be completely honest. Both part 1 and part 2 are pretty much posted on impulse. I should be going to sleep because I have work in the morning, and I started on this post early with that thought in mind, but for some reason my computer is glitching... I've written this out almost three times T-T Everything was deleted at one point, with NOTHING SAVED, so I was nearly about to rage quit... Pray for me. My patience is not unlimited.

Aside from all that, please enjoy! I worked REALLY hard on this (even excluding all the technical issues) so I really do hope you enjoy!

Character Plots:

1. Technoblade

Technoblade, notoriously known as the rogue deviant, was always a mystery due to the fact that no one, not even CyberLife, knew what model android he was. This was due to the fact that Techno was actually not even an android, but a human. This all began at a young age of thirteen, when Techno started to question the set rules of society and how he fit into its rigid hierarchy. Although it was just a budding curiosity, one he didn’t expect to go anywhere, it soon took a drastic turn. After pretending to be an android, just for fun, he was appalled by how he was treated by his fellow humans. More so than the random civilians, he was more disgusted by the inaction of the police. As an act of rebellion for the present corruption of authority, he committed small acts of violence and destruction of public property. He promoted equality and spoke out against the tyrannical attitude of those in power. Due to him indiscriminately acting out against both humans and androids alike, fighting against anyone in power who became physical and bullied those weaker than them, public opinion slowly began to shift. He eventually went from a crazy anarchist to a modern-day robin hood, much to the government’s dismay. Even those that flocked to his side, joining his cause, were a good mix of both androids and humans. His growing popularity began to raise the urgency of his capture, making his name slowly climb up the Most Wanted list. Eventually, while on his many brushes and runs from the police, he met with Detective Kristin (before she was promoted to Lieutenant) and her android partner, Philza. After many encounters, Techno and Phil surprisingly became close friends. In fact, they became so inseparable that their relationship was more akin to family than just friends. Though Phil didn’t particularly condone Techno’s more violent methods, he still supported his cause from behind. Willing to dirty his hands and become the mole, Phil secretly fed Techno intel from classified files as well as supplying Techno with android fuel, aka. Blue Blood. It was only later that Techno revealed to Phil his human identity, Phil being the only one he ever disclosed that information to, but Phil swore to never reveal his secret. Besides, the fuel was necessary for Techno’s growing followers, eventually taking on the name of The Syndicate. Techno understood the reason Phil never openly supported him, even though the android was more than willing to. It was to protect his loved one, Kristin, who would eventually become his wife. Techno understood, even supported Phil, and worked harder to never be a burden to his closest friend. Suddenly, Techno’s reputation exploded when a video clip of him went viral on social media. Though the government tried to spin the story in their favor, the video captured the full extent of the event. Techno had fought off several CyberLife security officers and police forces, exhibiting exceptional fighting prowess, while also making off with a ton of android fuel. He and his team had tried to hijack the vehicle loaded with the goods mid-route but was caught and almost apprehended. However, the thing that raised his public opinion to his favor was not just his fighting capabilities, but also how little he endangered the civilians around him. Instead, it was the government officials who had unintentionally dragged innocent people into this chaotic fight, suspecting them to be on Techno’s side. Then, not long after his growing popularity, Techno and Dream teamed up, officially marking Technoblade’s name as number one on the FBI’s Most Wanted Fugitives list.

2. Dream

Clay, or better known as Dream, was once a star employee at CyberLife. He was actually one of the many brilliant minds that helped make CyberLife into the giant company that it is. However, Dream soon gave up his employment due to the many restrictions they had placed on his creative vigor. Instead, he pursued his own android business, taking on the name Dream for both branding purposes and to embody his own "dreams." Teaming up with fellow ex-employees, Sapnap and George, the three were an ambitious trio that were talented enough to eventually become a threat to CyberLife’s growing industry and monopoly over the android market. When Dream realized that his life was being targeted by CyberLife, even being threatened to either come back into their company or give up on his current business, he became more determined to grow his industry. This even propelled him to start designing his most prized creation, DreamXD. However, his unbending will soon began to falter. CyberLife took a different approach when they realized that Dream did not hold his life more dear than his company. They began to threaten not just his life but also the lives of his most trusted partners and friends. This finally forced Dream to worry, eventually driving his friends away. Dream knew Sapnap and George like the back of his hand. He knew that the two would stick by him, through thick and thin, so he didn’t even give them that choice. Instead, his attitude towards them got worse and worse, until they eventually cut all ties with him. That was the only way he believed he could protect them. However, Dream underestimated the effects his friends had on his mental stability. Eventually, without their presence, he became more insane from the combined pressure, stress, and loneliness. Soon, he realized that it was getting too dangerous to stay still and was forced into hiding. With little time, Dream only took the incomplete DreamXD with him and shook off those tailing him. Then, he left his most prized possession to his dear ex-partner and friend, George. Dream intentionally left DreamXD incomplete. He had created the android in his image and left him unfinished to gather experience and human emotions on his own. This was the only android in existence that had been designed not only to be a deviant, but to be a human. Even with high expectations for his own future, Dream never could shake off the feeling of death following close at his heels. DreamXD was created to be his contingency plan. In the event that Dream died before his goals were achieved, DreamXD was programmed to take over Dream’s human life, or the life of Clay. Of course, Dream knew that free will was a part of humanity. That’s why he left DreamXD with a choice. While forced into hiding by CyberLife, the company spread rumors about his capture and imprisonment. CyberLife hoped that it could lure out his loved ones, baiting Dream to come out of hiding, but they had underestimated him. They had failed to realize just how severely Dream had cut out all his friends and loved ones from his life, leaving no one behind. No one to look back for him, or so the two thought... Surprisingly, even on the run Dream was fairly rich. He had planned out many things in the event CyberLife truly carried out their threats, and hidden many resources to one day come back to. However, he could not leave the city. Not while his goal was still left unfinished. So this left him with no place to stay for long periods of time, leaving him essentially homeless. That’s when he reached out to Technoblade, whose infamy had grown exponentially. The two had similar goals and so easily agreed to a partnership. Technoblade wanted to take down the tyranny of the government, while Dream wanted to end CyberLife’s influence over the android market and quiet down his chaotic life. Since CyberLife was a large reason for the power corruption, the two found working together to be simple. Techno would help Dream by providing him a place to stay, as well as offering man power when available and needed. Dream, on the other hand, would assist with supplies and android repairs, using his expertise in androids to even upgrade their parts. However, outside of these agreements they wouldn’t get in one another's way. They would only provide assistance if their plans overlapped. The two had a good understanding of the nature of their relationship. They were neither friends nor enemies. Just partners. Nothing more, nothing less.

PREVIOUS PARTS: 1

Note: I'm sorry, but after writing all this over again, nearly from scratch, three times... I really can't be bothered to go back and fix anything. I know I could have done better, but I'm kind of defeated right now and a bit tired. Please understand and I really do hope you enjoyed the read! Feel free to leave a comment on what you thought of it or maybe ways to improve the story! I'm all ears (when I have free time) ^^ And thank you so much for all the likes on my previous post! I'm really happy that you all enjoyed it <3

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ihappentolikefnafsurprise · 4 years ago

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Personalities: FNaF 1

I’ve been meaning to do this for so long, just never decided to sit down and do it. Probably because I keep getting distracted with other stuff. Feast your eyes (is that how it goes, I might be dumb). I spent a couple of hours on this, and let me tell you I never thought it’d be this difficult. But I’m proud of this, even if it may be cringe.

(oops they ended up being really long I think you can tell who’s my favourite character (hint they’re a robot))

Basically everyone in this group are buds. Sometimes they don’t get a long but they know how to not take it too far. I tried not to repeat cliches (Goldie being either really flirty or really shy, Chica being a cook, etc.). I mostly went off of what they do in the game and took the traits I liked.

Note that these are the personalities of the animatronics themselves, not the dead children. The idea is that they started off as just the kids but then they got their own lives and slowly developed their own personality until they were separate. I might give them some personalities later on, but right now I’m focusing on the robots.

Likes to be the boss

Freddy

Seems grumpy and unapproachable but he’s actually pretty nice

Scary when he scolds you though

He doesn’t even realize he seems grouchy

Can be pretty boring to hang out with

Unless you enjoy cleaning, dealing with Chica and Foxy, and reading in silence

Bonnie is the one he’s the closest to

(sort of because of Fredbear and Springbonnie being friends, they’re not copying they just happen to mirror it)

Loves hugs and uses them to comfort others

He’ll also use his music box

He’s good at comforting others with hugs

Hates the “don’t touch Freddy” rule

Has a really nice singing voice

He hums and sings when he’s bored or when he’s doing something

The cook of the group and he can make a good pizza

He makes thin-crusted pizzas because helth

He can’t eat so he’ll leave them in the fridge for the kids

Everyone’s baffled on how it got there but accept it anyway

He remembers all the children who come and loves them all very much

He likes to keep things tidy

When Chica’s made a mess in the kitchen he goes in to clean it

He used to scold her for it, but he’s given up

He picks up random items that the children forget with the intention of returning them

Straight up eats them

(He steps in the backroom or goes behind the curtain to get the toys out, children don’t need to see that)

He still continues to pick up toys even when he can’t go off the stage anymore, just a habit that stayed

Frustrated that the new employees just throw away the toys instead of putting them in the lost and found

Sometimes he plays the arcade machines on his own time

He likes to read

There’s no books though, so he just ends up reading manuals, newspapers that people leave behind, employee files, etc.

Until he secretly ordered a book series for himself

It took some convincing from the others

But he ultimately decided to because he doesn’t like the owner

Also the owner is really bad at actually managing the restaurant so he never noticed

Because of this Freddy often steps in from behind the scenes when things are really going wrong, like employees misbehaving

He sends an email to them and then he gives them a little fright when they come into work and they usually either quit or straighten up

He likes earthy tones like brown and beige because he’s boring

Bonnie

He comes off as nonchalant and uncaring

People think he’s angsty

It’s basically his whole persona when he’s on stage, he’s supposed to be the party pooper that doesn’t like parties but is eventually convinced by his friends to join and has fun

Off stage he doesn’t have that much of a presence

He can approach people just fine and isn’t really that shy

He’s just a quiet guy

Probably the best one to chill with because he’ll talk if you’re talking but he’s cool with silence and just enjoying each other’s presence

The type to laugh at his own expense

Has some dark humour and likes to joke around with Foxy, who also enjoys that humour

Secretly the mother hen of the group (despite being a bunny and a guy, he just fits mother)

Would laugh if you trip but then subtly watch you for injuries

If it’s an animatronic he can do some basic fixing

Doesn’t know anything about human first aid, but he’ll help where he can and call for help if he needs to

The type of guy to seem calm but there’s internal panic

If something seems kind of dangerous he’ll watch from afar

But if it’s too dangerous he’s the first one to shut it all down

Good at comforting others

Worries a lot and is probably the most cautious of the group

Very protective

It’s why he’s the first one to come to your door, he wants to make sure it’s no one dangerous (even though they’re like 400lb robots but sssh)

Hides most of his worrying, thinks he’d come across as annoying

Weak to puppy-dog eyes

Likes happy alternative music, but he’s open to almost anything

Plays the guitar by ear

Is pretty good, not legendary, but he experiments on his own

Can’t read sheet music

His favourite colour is red

Takes random pieces of paper like articles and anything useless and writes on the back of them like a diary, he keeps it hidden inside of the backroom in one of the Bonnie heads

Chica

Chaos incarnate

She’s a hyperactive kid that has trouble considering other’s feelings

Struggles with responsibility

Her favourite colour is green

Not at all good at comforting people

But she can listen while you rant and chime in or give you a distraction if you need it

“you wouldn’t believe the crap I had to deal with today”

“I wanna know everything!”

She’s actually the physically the strongest in the group

They’re all pretty strong, she’s just at the top

Mostly uses her strength to lift tables in order to make forts and playing around in the kitchen

Has broken many pans and lots of cooking utensils

Terrible cook

Can’t be left in the kitchen unsupervised for too long otherwise you run the risk of her starting a fire

Good at singing

Loves happy-go-lucky tunes

Radiates positivity

Doesn’t like the others being sad, but doesn’t know what to do about it

She’d probably get Freddy or Bonnie to help

Baby of the group (she is an adult though)

Has excellent puppy-dog eyes, only Freddy can stand them

Has trouble dealing with her own emotions

Tends to idolize or idealize people too much

Doesn’t understand what the outside world is like, or any of the problems that people deal with

I think that you gathered by now that she is not the mother hen of the group, even though she’s chicken

More like the kid sister that wants you to play dolls with her

Doesn’t like being alone and will find others to keep her company

Her feelings get hurt pretty easily

She can take a joke, just don’t be mean even if it is funny

Easily made happy by food

Tries to convince Freddy to make her pizza

When he doesn’t she’s like “fine then I’ll make it on my own”

Spends like a half hour trying to decide which pan to use and even more time getting the ingredients together

Freddy stops her before she can actually make anything, otherwise the whole place will burn

She’s easily distracted and tends to be absentminded

But if she finds something she likes she can sit there and do it for hours

Doesn’t like sudden noises, even though she makes them

Impulsive

Doesn’t play the arcade games, they make her mad

Foxy

The other chaos incarnate, he’s Chica’s partner in crime

If they were left in a room together all the tables would be smashed the chairs would be arranged to make a fortress

Tends to cause a lot of trouble so he gets put in time out often by the Freddy’s

Claims they’re being bums but they just want to keep the building intact

He sneaks away when they’re not looking sometimes and gets in even more trouble

Has the same dark humour as Bonnie

But he doesn’t laugh at himself

Actually a little self conscious

He’s a psychopath that enjoys exercise

When I say exercise I mean running and that’s it

He likes to pretend he’s either running away from or being chased by a huge monster

It’s one of the few things that can calm him down, just let him burn off some energy

Makes the others time him, but Chica usually gets distracted

Not a bad person, he just has a very hard time sitting still

He likes to draw

Carves little pictures into the floor of the cove when he’s bored

He’s running out of space though

If you give him a colouring book (they have some children’s colouring books and crayons) he’ll be calm up until he’s finished, then he’ll want to do another one

He also likes storytelling

Don’t ask him to write though, he doesn’t have much patience

Struggles with feelings of sadness

Misses performing for the kids

Most negative emotions translate into anger

Which will result in him trying to smash things and they others having to hold him back

Says things he doesn’t mean and does things that he wouldn’t do otherwise

He just can’t handle the emotion

Luckily he doesn’t get angry often

More often than not he’ll just pretend the negative feelings don’t exist, which also isn’t healthy

Out of everyone in the group he wants to go outside the most

He likes movies

There was a cheap VCR and tv in the boss’s office that’s now in the pirate cove

Somehow, none of the employees realized he took it

Either that or they just weren’t paid enough to care

He has like two movies he watches on repeat, it’s another thing you can give him to calm him down.

His favourite colour is blue, like the ocean

The true angsty one

Golden Freddy/Goldie/Fredbear

Spends a lot of time alone

Kind of a grump

Doesn’t like being bothered

He got the nickname Golden Freddy because that’s what the others called him when they first met him

It didn’t stick at all until the night guards that saw him called him that

Now it’s something the others call him to tease him, but they usually shorten it to Gold or Goldie.

He doesn’t really mind Gold or Goldie, but Golden Freddy kind of bothers him because it makes it sound like he came after when he’s actually the original

Doesn’t say anything though

Hangs out in the safe room, so the others can’t really get to him anyway

But they can yell through the door so there’s that

(I know it’s supposed to be invisible to them but they have life and stuff so they can see, they just can’t go inside)

He’s very sleepy

Spends most of his time sleeping or daydreaming

Doesn’t really miss performing

Says it was fun while it lasted but he’s fine with it being over

Though sometimes he eats his words when it’s daytime and the kids come

The cheering gives him the urge to come out and say hi even though he knows he shouldn’t

Misses being able to hang out with Springbonnie all the time

Springbonnie is there in the backroom with him, it’s kind of why he spends so much time in there

He activates sometimes, but he usually stays shut down to conserve battery

It’s pretty random

Springbonnie doesn’t know much about what’s going on, he never stays up long enough to get a full explaination

But he does try his best to keep his friend in high hopes

(I’ll be writing his personality later on, with FNaF 4)

There’s no way to charge him because the chargers are on the stage and the others can’t come in to help move him and Goldie’s not strong enough

And he can’t get up on his own

He likes being able to talk to him sometimes at least

Every now and then the others have to convince him to come out

He comes out on his own occasionally

But sometimes he shuts himself out completely and doesn’t realize how lonely he is, even if it is self-inflicted

The best way to get him to come out is knock-knock jokes, he loves them and the irony of it being through a door is just perfect

Likes even the cheesy ones

You can tell him puns or some well-constructed jokes too, he likes pretty much everything

He’s the grumpiest but he’s also the best at making others laugh

What can I say, he has a lot of time on his hands

When he does come out he hangs out with Freddy or Bonnie, the other two are too high energy for him

He plays the arcade games

He has the highest score, since he literally lives there and can play them whenever he wants

Likes the repetitiveness of some of the games

Even if he’s kind of a grump and a recluse the others respect him and come to him for advice when they need it

It’s sometimes stupid stuff like “where did my guitar go” and “quick help me hide Bonnie’s guitar”

He likes the colour purple

#fnaf #fnaf headcanon #fnaf headcanons #fnaf personalities #fnaf 1 #freddy fazbear #chica the chicken #foxy the pirate #bonnie the bunny #golden freddy

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years ago

Text

Just A Dream Away

Chapter 4/13 read here on ao3!

for @harringrovebigbang

~~~~

Steve doesn’t know why he does this to himself.

It’s been, god how long has it even been since the funeral? Almost a year now according to the calendar, though in his head it’s only been weeks.

Time doesn’t really have much to do with it though. Unless they found a way to go back, Billy would still be gone, and he’d still go back to the cemetery each morning just to pretend he wasn’t, leftover alcohol in his system from the night before melding each passing day into a jumble of numbness.

And Steve, as he falls deeper into this routine of self torture, he’s becoming exhausted. Where he was once optimistic, or at least trying to stay focused on looking for the positives and back on the good times, now he's just empty.

He can’t pretend he’s not depressed anymore, and he can’t pretend things are going to be okay either.

As much as he is still hurting, Robin doesn’t let him just mope. If she knew what was making his heart ache, he thinks she might let him have a little more room to grieve, but she doesn’t know, she doesn’t even know how bad he truly gets when she’s not around, so she had made him accept the video store’s job offer they’d left for when his time as representative was finished.

Work is something to do to take his mind off of things, sure, and it’s a way to get him out of the house, but the only reason he accepted was because halfway between his house and the family video is the cemetery, and every day, whether he drives it or walks it depending on if he’s sober enough to take the car, he stops to pay his boyfriend a visit.

Most often he brings flowers, maybe blows a tearful kiss to the ground and moves on, but some days, like today, he feels a heaviness in his heart that tells him to show up hours before he’s due at his shift, ready to talk it out until he absolutely has to leave.

Maybe it’s a habit from the hospital, starting when he used to be cheerful and sit in the grass to talk about happy stories and good things that happened in his day to make Billy feel better. But a year into talking to the dirt instead of his lover had left him bitter, and he was far past that optimistic point, all that’s left now is guilt, remorse, all the feelings about the loss he’d thus far kept bottled up.

This particular morning, he’d awoken from a nightmare, what happened at the mall never leaving his memory, the flashes of sorrow and pain and death lingering behind his eyes when he tries to get even a moment's peace; everyday is hard, but when he wakes up with tears in his eyes, he knows what kind of day it’s going to be.

So he comes out to Hawkins cemetery, no gift in hand today except his company, and kneels in the muddy grass, damp from an overnight storm that contributed to his plagued rest and left him running on an hour, maybe two, of good sleep, and he just starts talking.

He starts with the basics, the generic greetings and declarations of love that he promises each morning, but his emotions quickly rise to the surface. Reaching out to trace his fingers over the indentations in the upright stone, his voice wobbles slightly, and he shifts from venting to what he came here for:

“Billy. Baby, I’m so sorry. I’ve been pretending things will be okay, but I know they won’t. I failed you. I wasn’t there for you and it’s my fault what happened to you. I don’t even deserve to sit here and cry with you. I know Max has but, have you forgiven me? I don’t know where you are now, but I don’t want you to hate me. I love you so much.”

The silence in response is daunting. Makes him want to scream so loud he could tear the earth apart looking for his Billy, but instead he just repeats his apologies and promises again and again until his tears slow. Eventually, when he’s run out of things to say, he stands, stray tears dripping from the end of his nose and rewetting the soil, and leaves.

Drives away to his job like nothing happened, strolling in some thirty minutes late for his shift. Because today is the premiere of some mainstream pop culture film that’s gone way over Steve’s head on video, the Family Video is packed.

“Hey, dingus. Could’ve used you at the start of your shift.” Robin shouts over the shop noise as he strolls past to his post.

Steve shrugs, an over-exaggerated gesture in case she can’t hear him over the crowd, “Well I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You are, but I don’t see you working. I need help restocking once those shelves are cleared out.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve does a mocking salute, the grimace on Robin's face making it clear she can see through his overdone gestures that he’s hiding something, overcompensating for the emptiness he feels.

She doesn’t have the chance to bring it up though, because the both of them get whisked off into separate duties working the over capacity video store. Only, while Robin handles it like she would any other day, with mild annoyance and enough spite to get through it alright, Steve is too fragile. All he can register is commotion, chaos: the buzzing neon lights in the ceiling, surging crowds bumping into him, chatter and bustle filling his ears, and he starts to break down.

But because he’s Steve, he tries at first to just power through. Tries to block it out and resume productivity, but he is already knee deep in a panic attack, so he pushes back through the customers, probably a little too roughly, to tell Robin with that lilt of fear and upset to his tone, “Robin, I can’t be out here.”

She barely looks up as she kindly responds, “I get it, Steve. Go take your break, I’ll handle the rush.”

That’s exactly what he does, is go straight to the back room, but instead of his standard fifteen allotted by the overheads, he stays in the back for an hour, and then another, leaving behind customers arguing over who should get the last copy of the new movie, people in line out the door, tapes knocked off of the shelves, all while people are in trying to do their normal returns and rentals. It’s again total chaos out there, only made worse by the fact that Robin is now alone at the counter.

She would also have to clean up once the rush died, and maybe even replace some tapes if people weren’t going to start watching where they’re walking, and as much as Steve wanted to feel bad for disappearing into the back room for the past hour and a half and leaving her with all of that, he can’t be bothered with coming back out, his morning at the cemetery having taken too much from his emotional threshold to be productive, or remorseful even, now.

There are two big plush chairs and a couch in the back, a much nicer room than the icebox that was the Scoops break area, but Steve sits on the floor instead, his back pressed to the door and his stained up knees drawn to his chest. From where he is, the endless noise and bustle drifts down the short hall to the break room, but he’s too in his head, thinking about nothing and everything to pay it any mind.

It takes probably another an hour and a half for all the crowd to die down, the line clearing out and Robin chasing away most of the stragglers after explaining for the hundredth time that until the already rented out copies were returned, they wouldn’t get any more in and that no, they weren’t hiding any in the back.

Steve can hear her cleaning up a little before she gets too behind, cardboard boxes being broken down and the irritating scrape of broom bristles against dusty tiled floors, followed quickly by loud boot steps toward the door that make his chest ache, pretending it was the echoes someone else instead of his best friend.

The break room is locked behind him, something that is forbidden by company policy, but Steve felt necessary, and Robin beats on it with the palm of her hand, startling him out of the half dazed, half alert state he’s been in all day, “Harrington, what are you doing in there? I just did a whole rush by myself, asshole.”

He can’t father the words to respond, tears welling up and choking anything he might say off in his throat. So Robin calls again, the door knob rattling like she’s trying to get in, her voice more concerned, “Steve? You alive in there?”

“Steve.” She tries again, more desperate, and Steve finally finds it in himself to say something, sniffling and responding weakly, “‘M’fine Rob.”

“Can you let me in?” Robin suggests, just on the side of hesitant, making Steve feel something like guilt for shutting her out, both emotionally and in the literal sense, so he stands, shaky and unbalanced, and unlocks the door for her.

He must look as bad as he feels, because Robin's pinched face of concern melts into one of sympathy as soon as she lays eyes on him.

She steps into the back room with him, after a moment of pause which Steve had come to hate, knowing that meant whoever was speaking was going to take pity on him, asking, “You doing okay in here, buddy?”

“What does it look like?” There’s sarcasm and bitterness in his tone, though it’s muffled by his tears. He doesn’t worry about offending Robin, she’s been dealing with his breakdowns for a long time now, and she knew how he could get.

Patiently, in spite of his snappiness, she asks, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Steve’s not sure how that’s even a question anymore.

What happened was fighting monsters at the Byers. Was getting tortured in the Starcourt mall. Was losing his Billy.

To say that those things had a huge impact on him was a gross understatement. Hell, even Robin was affected too, the both of them incredibly emotionally fragile these days with about a thousand things that could trigger them, both were plagued by nightmares and flashbacks and panic attacks at random points in time. It shouldn’t be a mystery what was wrong now.

But having two hour long breakdowns in the employee lounge, Steve had to admit that was new, and Robin was obviously scared for him because of it.

So he lies, “It’s nothing, Robs. Just the same old stuf.” Steve isn’t a very good liar though, he can’t hold eye contact and his voice trails off, revealing him every time.

“Steve.” It was an attempt to appeal to him, maybe to ground him so he’d open up to her, “Please talk to me.”

An attempt, which he shuts down with, “We’re at work right now.”

Robin frowns, a crease in her eyebrow. He’s never seen her look more frustrated as she says, halfway between an insult and a joke, “No, I’m at work. You’re crying in the break room on the floor.”

But again, Steve is having it, “I’m serious, I don’t wanna talk about it here.”

He feels bad about being harsh with Robin, but his grief, this breakdown, it’s not for the general reasons she thinks, it’s specifically because of his visit to Billy’s grave this morning. The heavy realization of everything he’d vented to that cold stone that stood in place of the beaming face, the beautiful boy that always knew what to say, who he loved and still hadn’t told her about, that was what had pushed him over the emotional threshold.

“Alright, well, we’ve got like, an hour left before our shift is over, so you can just veg out back here or you can come and do some work.” Robing announces with a quick glance at her wrist watch, standing and patting the top of Steve’s head just to mess up his hair like he hated before walking out of the room.

At least she was trying.

It takes him a few minutes to find the will to follow her out, but eventually he does sidle up beside her at the front counter, his posture weak and his muddy shoes dragging on the ground, but he’s there, earning a taunting flash of Robins biggest and snarkiest grin as she slides him a stack of tapes that need rewinding.

They don’t get many customers after the initial rush of the early afternoon where he was out for, but he can tell Robin was still keeping her eye on him, just in case he needed a break, or in case he did break himself. Anymore, and much to his dismay, it doesn’t take much to get him overwhelmed, especially not if he was already upset, but he makes sure not to let that show now, putting on a mask like everything is okay, and he is managing it just fine.

Because the thing is, he isn’t managing anything, he’s still grief stricken and he’s drinking himself half to death and he has no future ahead but more sadness, but he’d be damned if he let anybody figure that out. Let anybody worry about him, when he was still living. In his eyes, it’s selfish to expect pity, when you’ve already survived the worst.

He thinks though, by the time their work is almost done, that Robin is starting to suspect something, because the second their shift is over, before the guys to cover the closing shift even show, she’s dragging him out of the store, snatching the keys for the BMW out of Steve's back pocket.

It goes without discussing anymore that on bad days, Robin doesn’t take Steve back home, which is to say, the two of them had been pretty much sharing her dinky little duplex apartment, the two of them living in the right side with a nosy older lady in the other. They both were afraid of what he could do when he was home alone, and, Robin didn’t really know this, but Steve was also afraid of what his father might say the day the dozens of rooms in that house weren’t enough to avoid him, when he realized how pathetic a state his son was in.

The living arrangement didn’t change much though. Steve still wasn’t very good at talking through his problems, and he still wouldn’t eat or shower or sleep regularly. He knew it scared Robin, because it scared him too, but he had other things to worry about.

Maybe it was true that he was so sensitive that it took practically nothing to send him over the edge, but it's not a big deal, he’ll be alright, how are you doing anyway? Robin always has to fight so hard just to get him to talk to her, his best friend who he all but lives with, because all he is worried about is other people. Something to do with losing the one person he was always caring for, trying to make up for not being able to save Billy’s life, or help him through his hardest moments. He knows that, but it doesn’t matter why he’s selfless, as long as he is, right?

Further, he reasons, so what if he’d had a concussion so bad that he still gets migraines that leave him bedridden at times? His friend is hurting and he needs to be there for her. Who cares if he has nightmares so intensely vivid he can’t sleep for weeks at a time? Robin has panic attacks in crowded places, and each time he has to fret about it for days.

It makes her worried sick all the time, knowing that Steve all but refuses to tell her if he needs something, but he doesn’t like feeling studied, can tell she is always looking for signs that something is wrong, watching him to make sure he didn’t do anything he shouldn’t. All she wants is for him to just stop bottling everything up, because she claims she had and it made everything easier for her to cope with, but he’s stubborn.

That just isn’t the way his brain works, and she’s probably sick of trying to get through to him. Somewhere in the back of Steve’s mind, he knows she’s not far from a breakthrough with him, his own coping mechanisms exhausting him to the point he might consider external help, but she doesn’t have to know that yet. For now, she sticks to what she always does in place of these tougher conversations, and that’s to make Steve tea and try to work him down to the point where he’ll talk to her. Today, it’s not going to take much convincing.

The second day he’d ever come over here, she tried to make a pot of coffee for a little chat like this, and Steve had started crying like a baby just from the way it smelled. It reminded him of his mother, of diner dates with Billy and nurses bringing him breakfast, so she had to switch to tea. He could tell it would always bother her when he wouldn’t tell her why something like that was making him so upset, but as Robin would have to come to realize the more he stayed with her, that was just the first of many things she didn’t understand about Steve Harrington.

There were endless triggers that set him off that she witnessed, and when she comforted him, he could tell she understood some of them, like when the lights would flicker when Dorothy ran her vacuum and he’d stop breathing, or when a siren would start up in the distance and he’d get so dizzy and his hands would shake so badly. But it was those overly specific things, like the smell of coffee, that she was sure had nothing to do with what they went through, and her confidence through those breakdowns would be noticeably a lot lower.

Pine tree air fresheners, the click of stilettos on tiled floors, leather car seats, the busy tone of the telephone, cigarette smoke, rose scented perfume, hairspray, crystalline ash trays. The list of things that reminded him of his parents and the utter helplessness of growing up alone and scared, and of his Billy, of everything he had lost when he died. To Robin, who didn’t have the context of his feelings, it just felt like every day there was something new that would set Steve back ten steps in the progress he’d made, and he knew it was making Robin feel so helpless and guilty.

She was getting better while he was still so thoroughly depressed, and she would take missteps on purpose to not get too far ahead of him. He was sabotaging his best friend with his own misery.

The thought draws stinging tears to his eyes, and Steve sits down at the table without saying a word to Robin, knows his composure will crack the moment he opens his mouth.

She finishes making their tea, specifically lemon flavored with two spoonfuls of honey and one of sugar, sliding him his tea in a tacky mug she’d bought him from a yard sale as a sort housewarming gift, an invitation to stay as long as he needed, and sits in the unbalanced chair across from him. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Steve taps his fingers on the side of his mug, eyes trained on the paint stained and scratched surface of the table, “What do you want me to say? I freaked out at work, nothing new.”

Robin sighs shakily, and it makes Steve feel a pang of guilt in his chest. Despite her best efforts, he gets so defensive all the time anymore, the careless goof he was before Starcourt buried underneath all that was depressing him, and that he wouldn’t share with her. He was an awful friend, spending so much time with his past actions and losses, he’d forgotten how to live in the present.

“But there’s something you haven’t been telling me, Steve.” She bumps their knees together under the table to get him to look at her, “I’m not trying to be nosy or intrude, really, I just want to help you.”

“I don’t need help.” Steve raised his mug to his face, mumbling into it, “It’s supposed to get worse before it gets better, right?”

That same worried crease above her eyebrow appears, “Who told you that?”

He doesn’t answer, staring into the swirling mug before him. A sign for her that he still wasn’t ready to talk. She must decide that she would do most of the talking then, because she puts her mug down, takes a deep breath before saying, “Listen, you don’t have to tell me everything, I just want you to get better and I don’t think you should do it on your own. I haven’t, and I think it’s time I try to be there for you live you’ve been for me.”

There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve didn’t know what to say, the plastic clock Robin had taken from her grandmother’s kitchen ticking away the seconds, the minutes that passed before Steve swallows hard and looks up from the spot he’d been focusing on, trying and failing to find the right words again before he explains himself, “I just think.. I feel like everyone moved on way too fast.”

“From Starcourt?” What she meant didn’t need to be said. She didn’t need to specify the torture, the battle with an interdimensional monster, the fall out afterwards, for him to understand, but that wasn’t it, and he shakes his head no.

Confused, Robin clarifies, “Then from what?”

“All those people that day, Robs, they died and life is just supposed to go on like normal. We still have holidays and we got jobs again, but all those people, they-“ There are tears in his eyes so he cuts himself off, hoping that Robin got the point anyways.

From the look of clarity on her face, she does understand now where this is coming from. Steve had been struggling with survivor's guilt, Robin knew that because he insisted upon attending each and every funeral he could with his schedule at the hospital, and she’d reluctantly driven him to them without question, no matter how unhealthy it was for him.

He had even told her once, when he was drunk off his ass and knocking on her bedroom door in the early hours of the morning, that he didn’t think it was fair that he didn’t die, but all those other people did. She had never gotten an answer out of him when she asked why he thought he deserved to die, and he hoped she’d have forgotten it by now, but now he was cracking, and she was going to figure it out, so he keeps going.

“It’s just, how are we supposed to go back to normal when there’s so many people who can’t? They died, a-and they left behind their families and friends and partners.” He sniffles, tears starting to roll down his colorless face for the second time that day, “How can we act like nothing ever happened when it’s our fault?”

That makes Robin pause, her eyes going wide, “What?”

Steve freezes, hadn’t meant to say that, and he stays quiet until she asks him a second time, “How is it our fault, Steve?”

“Because we were so caught up with that stupid transmission that we missed our chance to help them. And for what? I was just trying to play the hero for Dustin, but I could’ve stopped it if I wasn’t so stupid.”

“What could you have stopped?” Asking so many questions made her sound like a pushy therapist, and it’s making Steve increasingly frustrated, answering harshly, “The-The shadow, Robin! The Mind-Flayer!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. But Steve, I really don’t think there’s much we could have done.”

Steve just shakes his head, insists, “If I hadn’t been so-so focused on doing something I thought was important, I could’ve done something that actually mattered before it was too late. I wasted so much time in the mall. But they needed me and I-I failed them. You feeling bad for me and telling me it’s not my fault doesn’t change that.”

“Steve, if we hadn’t been down there, nobody would’ve known about the gate, and the mind flayer wouldn’t be dead now.” Robin comforts, a deep frown on her tear tracked face, “There wasn’t anything anybody could’ve done.”

It’s not what Steve needs to hear.

“Stop saying that.. I could’ve saved him, and then none of this would’ve happened.” A sob wracks through his body as soon he finishes, the gut wrenching sound echoing through Robin's tiny apartment kitchen.

“Who?” Robin asks, reaching across the table and taking his shaking hand in her own, “Steve, who could you have saved?”

Through his tears he’s able to stutter out the answer, accented with a pointed sob, “Billy. I could’ve saved Billy..”

She doesn’t say anything in turn, occupied with putting the pieces together, though she’s still missing the larger context, instead pushing her chair back on the scratched kitchen tiles, pulling Steve up out of his own chair into the tightest hug she’d probably ever given anybody. They stand like that for a long time, Steve crying into Robin’s hair and her trying to comfort him through her confusion until his tears slow, or at least the hyperventilating is under control.

When eventually he does pull away from her, he wipes at his eyes and whispers, “Can I tell you something else? It’s about him.”

“Of course.” Robin answers quickly, something like relief, an unfamiliar look on her face anymore, written behind her eyes, making Steve yet again feel a twinge of guilt for hiding so much from his best friend.

He speaks quickly, struggling to get the right words together again, “You know how I said that the only time I was ever in love was with Nancy Wheeler?”

“Yeah?” Robin frowns, and Steve can see it in her face that she’s trying to work through it, what his love life has anything to do with his grief, but it’s a lot harder for him to admit than it is even for her to understand.

“I lied.” He chews on his lip, the faint and bitter taste of blood on his tongue, “And you know how when Dustin asked if we were together, I told him that you weren’t my type and we laughed about it because I’m definitely not yours either?”

“Steve I told you-“ Contemplation is replaced with fear, but he quickly cuts her off, “No, no, it’s not like that. I-I’m not done.”

Steve takes a deep breath, “You sort of are my type, but it was always someone else with-with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes and freckles all over that I was in love with.”

“I don’t understand. Who?”

Steve’s realizing he’s come full circle in this conversation, almost identical to the one they had on the bathroom floor over a year ago now when Robin can out to him, his tone and the distress in his features softening, “Robin.”

The pieces click into place, a whole range of emotion from shock to confusion to finally, sympathy, crossing Robin's face, “Oh, Steve. I’m so sorry. When did you…”

“Christmas Eve last year. Night of the snowball he apologized for being an asshole, and a few weeks later he kissed me.” Six months. The time that they’d had together was now as long as he was in the hospital, and since then how long Steve had been grieving him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She sounds almost hurt by it, the realization that her best friend didn’t come to her with this, especially when she of all people would be understanding. But Steve doesn’t have an answer to that, he doesn’t really know why.

All he does is shrug in response, tired of talking it out anyways, so with a forced sigh Robin tells him, “Well anyways, I’m glad you told me now. You shouldn’t have been doing this on your own for so long.”

Steve smiles weakly and lies, just as he’s been lying for so long, “It’s okay Robin. I’ve been getting better.”

But it doesn’t have the effect on Robin he wants, because she insists, for the first time not just letting him stew in his guilt and bottle everything up, “I don’t think drinking your life away and breaking down more often than ever really counts as doing better.”

Of course he tries to defend himself, anyone would against that, “Come on, Rob-“

But Robin cuts him off, “No, Steve. I’m serious. You need to get help.”

“I’m not going to a therapist.”

“Okay, but you still need to come to me with this stuff.” Steve looks away, and Robin’s tobw gets more desperate, “Steve, please. You can’t do this by yourself. I understand, I’m your best friend. I just want to be there for you.”

“I’ll.. think about it.” Is the last thing he says before he turns to leave, stopping short when he hears Robin sniffle, even on her worst days almost never seeing her cry, “Shit.. Robs.”

“No, no. I’m done talking about it Steve.” Robin shakes her head, her face flushes red as she fights back tears she doesn’t want him to see, biting her knuckles, “Just.. go ahead. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Numbly, he does. He turns and goes up the stairs to the used to be closet Robin turned into a room for him when he comes over.

~~~~

Billy doesn’t know how long he’s been in this hell.

His hair is getting longer, almost down his back now. It’s a matted mess that’ll never brush out even if someday he gets back to water that runs clear and his Gee conditioner he used to slip Susan a few bucks to buy for him, but he can’t bring himself to cut it.

He does shave though. Takes a knife to his face and does his best to use broken and grimy windows and mirrors for accuracy. It seems pointless, and for the most part it is, but his dad used to grow a beard in the winter, and the very last thing he wants is to look like him. Seeing him again would be one thing, but becoming him? That’s something Billy's willing to take a few knicks from a rusty old blade to avoid.

He used to keep track of the days, measured by the patterns in the storms constantly churning overhead, with a notch in the dying bark of a tree he passed between the convenience store and his house, the two places he’d been able to call his safe haven since he found himself trapped.

But then the dogs, as he’d come to call them now, changed. They used to circle the woods, patrol the other side of town, blocking his access to the downtown areas, like the hospital, the police station, Steve’s house. Then suddenly, they started closing in on his side, and from the many encounters he’s had from strays and crossing their invisible boundaries, he knew he couldn’t stay in that place.

So he’d lost his home, the ghost of his family that had been keeping him grounded, gone as he salvages anything he can, and leaves.

For a while, it feels like relief almost. The burden of how long he’d been here and how alone he was lifted, but he knows that’s just a way of comforting himself. He’s actually devastated.

He wants to be able to sleep on his back porch and he wants to be able to look at all the damaged family photos inside the overtaken house, no matter how fake the smiles and poses are, and he just wants to be home. Not that the building means much, home is the feeling, being with the people who he cares about and who care about him. He’s not sure he ever had the sense of what that really meant, but he’d take any dysfunctional upbringing over this.

The best he had for a while was Steve’s place.

Steve is never there, in the physical sense or in that freaky, spiritual, can be heard but not seen way. Inside the mansion is somehow pristinely kept, even in all of this wreckage that destroyed the rest of Hawkins. Mrs. Harrington would be proud of the intact decor and the spotless floors. Whatever those white particles were, which were slowly making it harder and harder for Billy to breath, were the only blemish, everything coated in at least an inch of the stuff.

Outside is another story entirely. The lawn is ripped up, the chairs and lawn ornaments are mangled or missing, and the pool is completely drained, in the place of water gangly vines and more sticky decomposition than he’d seen in even the most remote areas.

He remembers Barbara Holland. He remembers Steve saying she drowned accidentally in his pool when she got brought up. He remembers the fear in his eyes when they were out at night, the way those honey browns would scan the treeline for danger, on his worst days drawing the curtains and refusing to go out back for anything.

He starts to wonder, if maybe the vines mark the victims. His house, Steve’s pool, both completely overtaken. Heather’s house is only a street over from Steve’s, but he can’t will himself to go in there and see if his theory is correct. Same goes for the steelworks, or the community pool.

But, nice as it was, Steve’s house didn't last long as a refuge. He only stays there for a couple of weeks before he again has to grab what he can and abandon it, the dogs having followed him and cut another chunk out of his territory. There was a pack of them wandering the yard, a couple breaking off to charge at the back doors, and Billy has to decide between holing himself up in that hideously wallpapered room that had come to be another definition of home, and running for his damn life.

He chose the latter, scaling the shed roof from the upstairs bathroom window just as the monsters break the glass double doors. Down the rattling drain pipes he prayed would hold his weight, and into the shed to regroup. He’d gotten out with almost nothing of Steve’s, not that polo shirts and nike shoes were great for apocalyptic survival gear, but he wished he could’ve nabbed anything more, a picture, a coat, a bag, at least something he could use.

All he made out with though was a red bandana, which, if he ever gets out of this hell, he has to ask Steve about that, no way his reformed prep was freaky enough to walk around Hawkins advertising his preference for taking it elbow deep, an empty notebook, a pair of scissors as a just in case weapon, and an old banged up Bic which was out of fluid anyways.

The bandanas alright, paisleys not his pattern of choice and he’s more of a navy blue and grey guy than red, but it’d do well enough to keep that nasty shit in the air out of his lungs. Everything else he grabbed is basically useless to him though, so he scours the shed instead, sneaking in through the back door with a sharp eye on where the dogs broke into Steve’s.

In there he gets a little better of a haul, most of it still just junk he can repurpose for tending injuries, but on the back wall, held up by a barely standing shelf, is the golden find, a machete the length of his arm. Brand new and sharpened, a little worn from the rot but clearly never used, the Harrington’s had a gardener to trim back the branches, and everything in here was just for show so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t feel emasculated by not doing any work but answering phone calls and yelling at underpaid workers anyways, so Billy grabs it, finally having more than an old mower blade and a collection of knives from decorative to army to kitchen, most of which were all too small and almost got his arm torn off.

It’s that machine he’d stumbled upon that bittersweet day that he carries now, dripping with the oozing blood of one of the dogs, slightly bent now because another got it between its teeth and more dull from cutting through rubbery skin. The damn thing has saved his life though, many times over as the territories shift again in quick, unpredictable cycles, this last time ending with him cornered in the hospital's courtyard.

He was over there raiding for bandaging and medicine, anything that might help in the long run, but of course, it would have to come in handy just a little sooner, silly Billy for thinking about the future, because the monsters find him.

Thankfully, none of them actually get him, though one is particularly disgusting, it’s head, for lack of a more delicate way to put it, basically explodes when he stabs through it, another damn pair of his jeans getting ruined by the sticky, reddish spatter. The only worry he has time for before he has to kill, or scare off in most cases, the rest of the dogs that step forward, is the damned stain.

There aren’t too many, and those whose brains aren’t dripping off of his weapon, or as annoying as it is, his clothes, run off quickly, leaving Billy himself to move on.

First Cherry Lane, then Steve’s, and now the hospital. Guess it’s time to fucking leave again.

Hawkins is deceptively big for a country bumpkins paradise. The town and its shops and the surrounding neighborhoods only make up some half of the city, even he used to live on the edges of the civilized part, the rest of town stretching on for miles and miles of rural farmland, a couple of houses here and there the deeper you get into the country.

He’d never been over that way except maybe once when Max flipped the map upside down and they got lost on the way to Cherry for the first. That wasn’t much help now, but he was otherwise out of options. It was getting lost in the woods trying to find the more hidden houses, or it was being dinner for the dogs, which he could still hear chittering somewhere nearby, regrouping for the next attack probably.

The decision isn’t hard for Billy. He grabs whatever he’s salvaged and just bolts, bandana mask around his neck, machete in the bag on his back so he doesn’t cut himself up and make all this surviving for nothing, just getting the hell out of there before they decide they want to fight him again.

Because frankly, after as long as it’s been, his energy is getting low. He doesn’t know what he’s surviving for anymore, let alone if he’s going to be able to for much longer. His lung capacity is getting lower by the day, he’s got old wounds that won’t heal. The dogs probably aren’t too far from finishing him off if he gets attacked too many more times, so he’s just not chancing it.

Billy runs and he runs, coughing up a little blood in the process, until he ends up in a neighborhood he’s never seen before. Right now, that’s good news, so he slows his pace and takes his machete back out, just in case he let his guard down too soon.

Over here it’s a little brighter, a little less destroyed maybe, but still not right. Houses still slump and there are still pulsing vines all over, the roads still dusted with toxins. But there are a lot of houses, and that’s usually good news for avoiding the monsters.

As nice an area as it is, there's still something bigger drawing Billy to this area. Immediately he thinks back to the cemetery, how he’d felt and heard Steve that day, an event he’d come to think, after so long without a repeat feeling, had been only in his head, and he panics, for just a moment.

He knows he can’t let him slip by this time. Closing his eyes, he tries to pinpoint the feeling in his chest, like an arrow that can guide him in the direction of this, a compass pointing straight to his love.

Trusting that this feeling isn’t a warning, and he’s not about to walk into a nest, he follows it, slowly at first but with more fervor when he hears two echoing voices at the same time his chest clenches. He recognizes one as a vague face in his memory, Steve’s best friend, the one Heather never had the guts to tell about the crush she had on her, Robin maybe was her name. The other voice, well, the other voice is Steve’s.

They’re coming from a rotten duplex with no doors or windows. It looks a lot like a marked house, and he wonders if Robin knows she got a discount because the owner of the house was dead, melted into a monster that has tried to kill her along with the rest.

Approaching the house, he doesn’t know what to expect, if maybe they’ll be inside, or if this is just some delusion from a lack of oxygen to his brain. It doesn’t really matter. He steps up, careful to avoid rickety spots in he steps, and goes inside.

First, he leans his machete against the mushroom wall. There’s two reasons he never brings the weapons all the way in, first being that any mess he made in the house always had to be cleaned up by his step mother, so outside of the deepest throws of teenage rebellion, he always did what he could to minimize dirt in he house, and that included bringing a machete dripping with brains inside, even if there wasn't anyone around to see it, it was a habit built by thankful glances and praise, albeit somewhat backhanded, from his parents, so it was one he continued to honor.

Second, he harbors a deep respect for the houses he’s stayed in, despite the lack of doors on this one, each and every home he’s entered, no matter if it was for five minutes to steal some food or upwards of weeks where he slept there, these buildings were his shelter, and he feels the need to respect them, so, weapons stay at the front door. So far, the dogs haven’t followed him inside.

Looking around, he can tell Steve isn’t here either. The house is definitely abandoned just like the rest, and his heart sinks just a little, until he hears it again. A vague whisper that’s just barely audible to his ear.

He knows he’s in the right place. Every inch of him aches for Steve, but he can’t see him. He tries again to call out for him, an echo of the cemetery, “Steve? Can you hear me?”

No response comes.

“I don’t understand, why can’t you hear me?”

Things have gone silent on the other side, and Billy feels hopeless. A bout of frustration turns him around, the urge to forget about his stupid rules and just tear this house apart until he finds his Steve, curbed by seeing the wall phone.

He’s not stupid. He’s been over here long enough to realize he’s not in Hawkins, not the real one anyhow, that they, Steve and his family and everyone else are instead. The how and the why are another story entirely, but he has the basic understanding that he is alone, and they are parallel to him. Coexisting in different planes.

And if that is the case and he’s not on the worst trip of his life or just completely off his rocker, him and the dogs he kills an Agave and Pentheus type situation, then he can contact the other plane, say, by telephone even.

Luckily for him, Robin is forgetful, and there’s a list of numbers taped to the wall by the phone, only slightly worn with black gooey rot. He picks up the phone and listens to the emptiness, no dial tone in his ear. His hands are shaky as he slowly, hesitantly punches in the numbers, the three and the eight buttons getting monster blood on them from his fingers.

He raises the phone to his ear, the sound of his own ragged breathing echoing back in his ear as he waits for someone to answer, the line ringing, and ringing, and ringing.

#harringrove big bang 2021 #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #robin buckley #tw blood #ej writer #story by ej!#more tags on ao3

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bubble-tae · 5 years ago

Text

BTS as Boyfriends

Namjoon

• Really just enjoys your company

• Being in the same room but doing two different things like folding laundry or reading, as long as you’re there

• No conversation is a stupid conversation

• Even the light ones hold a lot of value

• Has a lot of weird theories about people and the world

• Listening to him is fine, but being able to keep up an intellectual report is preferred

• On the flip side he’s such a goofball

• Gets confused about simple things like how to open the lock on the front door

• Spends a lot of time showing you cute baby animal videos

• Talks about the future often

• Marriage/kids/growing old/etc

• Always obsessed with some new quirky phone game

• If it’s multiplayer he will make you download it too

• Date nights are always just at home

• Why go out when you can stay in and play board games?

• I imagine you both reading in bed at night and talking about if the book sucked or not

• Intimacy is a private thing

• No PDA whatsoever, maybe hand holding but that’s it

• Your family/friends love him more than you, oops

Seokjin

• Y’all know the crackheadery that’s going to go on

• Tries to pull pranks but is bad at them

• Hypes you up as much as he hypes himself up

• “Waaaah look at this beautiful couple standing in the mirror, so stunning”

• Very good at turning your sour mood into a good one

• He’ll listen to your problems, helps you solve them, and then acts like an idiot until you feel better

• He’s everyone’s best friend so social situations with him are a breeze

• Likes double dates

• Sunday’s are lazy days but boy does he clean up nice for Friday night holy shit

• It’s all about food all the time. The journey is food. The destination is food.

• I’m serious if there’s no food at a party y’all are leaving

• Has a mega sweet side

• LOVES BEING LITTLE SPOON HES NOT ASHAMED

• Wakes you up with tickles and coffee/tea

• Somehow your pantry always has new bottles of wines in them????

• If you drink he wants to try a new one almost every night

• But is super picky, will dump half the bottle down the drain

• At the end of the day you’re each other’s number ones

Yoongi

• Soft baby

• Not super vocal about affection, more physical

• Playing with your hands, the sleeves of your sweater, etc

• Looks of affirmation

• You’ll be in a room of a group of friends and you’ll catch his gaze and give you a sweet smile

• Spoil you but in a nonchalant way

• Give you expensive jewelry without batting an eye

• But will get embarrassed giving you a small sentimental gift

• Sharing sweat pants, hoodies, beanies, and everything else that’s big n cozy

• Will blush when he says he loves you

• Which won’t be super often but really random, though he means it so fucking much

• Please give him cheek kisses, it’s his weakness

• Following asleep with his head on your lap is how he likes to spend his afternoons

• He’ll send you little beats he’s made just cause

• Will smile while watching you do something and then pretend he wasn’t when you turn to look at him

• 100% will compliment your mind more than your physical appearance but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like the way you look

• Overall just a quiet boy full of love

Hoseok

• Y’all never stop talking

• Like living together is a nightmare cause you talk all night

• He’s hyper with most but is super gentle with you

• Like loud and bubbly in public but whispers cute things in your ear

• Will always come home from any store with things for you

• Like he’ll go out for eggs and come back with 10 of your favorite sweets

• Plays music REALLY LOUD

• Wants you to dance with him so he can spin you around the room

• A new album will drop from his favorite artist and he plays it at home and in the car and on his speakers and everywhere he can until you’re sick of it

• Wants to adopt every puppy he sees

• You’ll have to drag him out of the pet store

• Online shopping for clothes

• There are always packages showing up at the door, you think he has a problem

• But there’s stuff in there for you too so you don’t complain

• Tries to be romantic but doesn’t really get it ?

• Like lighting lots of lavender candles but almost burns the house down

Jimin

• TOUCHY

• omg he wants physical contact all the time

• Kissing your hands, cheeks, shoulders, any part of your exposed skin honestly

• Will always want his hair played with

• Like will let you do dumb little braids and ponytails or whatever you want for fun

• Wants to take you out all the time for dinners and dates

• You’ll probably start watching a bunch of series together but never finish any of them

• Brutally honest

• If he thinks an outfit doesn’t look good he won’t sugar coat it

• Ultimate hype man though when you’re rockin’ it

• Like mini fashion shows at the store the employees get so sick of you

• Spoils you with jewelry

• There’s no need to have all these diamond bracelets but he can’t help himself

• You’ll go on and on about something you really enjoy and even if he doesn’t get it he’ll listen

• If someone says anything bad about you he will sass them, no fists just harsh words lmao

• Jealous type so please give him lots of attention

Taehyung

• Words of affirmation

• Calls you cute no matter what you’re doing

• You could have the worst cold and he’d say your mucus-sneeze was adorable

• Weekend walks at the park

• ^Stopping to take a picture with every lizard/frog/insect you two see

• Going out for coffee but steals yours cause he likes it more

• Begs you to stay up to watch the stars

• Falls asleep before they even come out

• Whines about it the next day until you kiss it better

• Tries to cook for you but is so bad at it

• But you’ll eat his burnt steak cause you love him for trying

• I feel like he leaves sticky notes everywhere of just doodles??? They don’t even say anything he just gets bored

• Will laugh at your cheesy jokes

• Doesn’t know what to do when you’re mad like he just goes full baby mode

• When he’s upset he gets all pouty and just wants to be held

• ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT MUSEUM DATES

• Deep talks about art and the universe that you won’t remember the next day

• Maybe I’m hyper biased but just a good ole boy

Jungkook

• meme king

• Sends you everything he thinks is funny

• If you aren’t following his Twitter is it even love

• Anime watch parties

• Will make you dress up as dorky characters for Halloween

• Forgetful

• Like “oh shit it’s our anniversary??” But will make it up to you the next day

• He’s such a classic romantic

• Flowers and chocolate and heart shaped lockets

• The lockets are matching, of course

• Wants a secret couple tattoo

• Will cry during romantic movies

• Insistent on doing everything because he’s always babied and wants to be able to baby someone

• Gets absorbed into trying to learn a new skill so often that you can barely keep up

• Last week it was the cinematic history of horror and this week it’s managing stocks for beginners???

• Honestly loves it when you watch him play video games

• Will love it more if you get frustrated with how bad he is and take the controller/keyboard from him to show him how it’s done

• Doesn’t have to be older than him but loves strong/powerful women

#bts as boyfriends #bts reactions #bts as #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #taehyung reaction #jungkook reaction #jimin reaction #hoseok reaction #namjoon reaction #yoongi reaction #seokjin reaction #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader

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lovelyirony · 5 years ago

Note

Fic title meme : pulvis et umbra sumus (We Are Dust And Shadows)

On every single document, including the ones that show what actually happened to Howard and Maria Stark, Tony Stark is listed as dead among them.

He is not.

But in not calling in the accident on the abandoned road, Tony managed to find someone else to take his place and escaped.

Tony Stark is dead. A whole family funeral and everything. Obadiah pretends to cry. Tony is at the funeral with shitty dye in his hair and sunglasses that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. Ha.

The funeral is closed casket. All their faces are rumored to be impossible to fix with make-up.

He makes new documents. Anthony Jarvis, from Boston. Airtight background. Likes puzzles. Scored damn high on the SAT, but not the perfect score.

(Killed him to answer some of those questions wrong, seriously.)

Anthony Jarvis goes to MIT and requests a single room. He gets one for one semester, and then the room next to his burns and destroys his as well. So he gets moved to Jim Rhodes’.

Jim becomes Rhodey, and he is the first friend of Anthony Jarvis, and nicknames him Tony.

He grins at that.

There are plenty of times that Tony wants to tell him. The thing about secrets is that they need to be shared. No one really wants a secret, nor do they want to keep it. But he keeps his mouth shut and asks if he wants to go for Thai food.

“This is the third time this week.”

“Not my fault it’s good! I’ll pay...”

“Sign me up.”

Tony and Rhodey gets Thai food. It’s good.

Rhodey lets him in on a secret that Tony had actually known about since his room assignment.

(You remember that guy’s room that caught on fire? Yeah, he swore that his microwave hadn’t been on, and nothing had been plugged in. He was right. But Tony needed an accident.)

In other circumstances, Rhodey would have ignored the offer that he had. He had had his heart set on Air Force. But there was something about the man who talked to him.

“It’s a place called Strategic-Homeland-something I can’t remember,” Rhodey says. “Point is, they’re a big deal and kind of shady, but not in the government shady kind of way. The only thing I can find out about them is that they’re an international company who need engineers, pilots, and basically anyone like you and me. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Tony nods.

“You want me in on this?”

“I mean, you did tell me a couple of weeks ago that you weren’t sure what you wanted to do after graduation.”

(It was two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours ago. Not like he was counting.)

“...thanks. I’ll check it out with you.”

Anthony Jarvis shows up in a nice suit, stupid sunglasses, and impresses the higher-ups by diagnosing a problem with the engine that others had previously marked as “impossible.”

He’s hired on the spot, same as Rhodey.

Tony Jarvis gets his own keycard, finds an apartment in New York that’s within at least biking distance, and gets started on inventing some cute little toys for the spies in Research and Development.

He brings the laser-lipstick to life, poison-drop-earrings, spyglasses that actually work and have HD, and briefcases that use mirroring technology to change color.

“How did you do this?” Rhodey asks, eyes wide. “I swear this is unreal.”

“Aw,” Tony says. “You sap. I got some inspiration from some old comic book ads. I think I’m gonna try a ring decoder next, what do you think?”

“Almost makes me want to go on missions instead of flying them.”

Tony Jarvis is known for working odd yet long hours. He comes up with results. And he keeps his head down and minds his own business.

This is all to find out exactly who killed his parents. As much as his and Howard’s relationship was...interesting, he still wanted to know.

His desire to know the truth leads to somewhere he hadn’t thought was possible: Hydra.

His hands freeze as he looks at the paper file with thick, black lines all over. The information there was sparse. Howard, Maria, and Anthony Stark all died. It was ruled:

And there’s nothing there.

It wasn’t an accident. Sure he knew that, but there was something far more sinister at play. Why wasn’t it an accident?

He gets Alexander Pierce in his apartment with a man in the corner. His arm gleams in what little light from the lamps outside give off.

“Why are you searching for the Stark files?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you just schedule a meeting? I’m available tomorrow at three,” Tony jokes. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Someone you wouldn’t want to shake hands with,” Pierce answers. “You need to stop looking into this before you find yourself in a situation you don’t want to be in.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Accidents will happen,” Pierce says. He gets up from the table, to the counter. Gets out a glass. And makes himself water. He smiles as he looks to the man in the corner. “Do you want any water, Winter Soldier?”

Winter Soldier remains impassive.

Tony stills.

“So, the legends are true. And Hydra is still around.”

“And if you aren’t careful, you won’t be,” Pierce says. “Don’t bring any of this up. Or this won’t be the last time you see Winter Soldier. I know your moves, Jarvis. Don’t think you can surprise me.”

They exit the apartment. Tony realizes that Pierce took his glass.

And he laughs.

Because this? Not according to plan, but god he’s gonna have fun with it.

It starts with telling Rhodey who he actually is.

It does not go as planned.

“So let me get this straight. I’ve known you for years and you just. Never told me?” Rhodey asks. “Why not?”

“To be completely fair, no one knows besides a man in Wisconsin, and he’s from Wisconsin,” Tony says. “Also I was drunk. Drunk me is a terrible person who would sell me for a buffalo nickel.”

“I’m still mad, even if that’s funny,” Rhodey says, trying not to smile. “So. Why tell me now? I’m assuming you need something.”

“I would like your help,” Tony says. “It is not required but I am toppling a secret organization living in SHIELD and I think if I get your help, I will most likely not get fired by the end of this. Fury likes you, he hates me.”

“False, he mildly tolerates you. You’ll be fine. Probably. Who else should we get to help?”

Tony had originally planned for no one.

But then there was Pepper Potts.

She had been deemed by the media as “crazy” for accusing Obadiah Stane, longtime-CEO of Stark Industries, as ordering a hit out on the Stark family.

She had been booted from the company--anticipated--and then Hydra had ordered a hit on her.

Slightly unexpected.

Point is, Rhodey brings her into the apartment and tells Tony casually that the grocery store had run out of his usual hummus brand, was the generic okay?

“That’s like asking if I’m okay with blue pens,” Tony curses. “Also, is that Pepper Potts? Why is she here? Did you run into her at the grocery store?”

“No, as I was coming back. Did you know that she has a hit out on her? Fun times.”

“Oh my god, will someone explain to me what’s going on here?!” Pepper seethes. “I was just trying to get my yogurt without anyone taking a picture of me and some random fucking guy had a knife thrown at me and then this guy took me to your house!”

She then rants for ten minutes about the “questionable design choices going on in this establishment, who honestly thinks shot glasses are a decoration?!”

“Are you done?” Tony asks. “Because if you want to help with a conspiracy plot, you need to be done.”

She is.

Pepper does not get a job with SHIELD. In fact, she mainly just decides to take care of the redecoration in Tony’s apartment.

“You will be paying me for this.”

“Why would I do that? You’re using my money to buy everything. You’re living here rent free for now.”

“Because I’m helping you make better life choices. I also want new shoes.”

What Pepper does is provide very valuable access to Stark Industries: she knows the ins and outs, what employees do and don’t do, and also is very helpful in telling Tony what he needs to do when he takes the company over.

“Who said I was going to take it over?”

“Me,” Pepper says. “Also because I reviewed every single old document and the company was specified to go to next-of-kin. You are. And you’re not dead.”

“My death certificate is literally framed,” Tony says, pointing to his graduation photo that Rhodey took. He had swapped out his official diploma with it as a joke. No one had seen it. He thought it was hilarious.

“Yeah, but they can do DNA testing,” Pepper says. “This is like the twenty-first century Anastasia except this time they don’t find you with metal detectors!”

“I don’t like that you know that story as well as you do,” Rhodey says. “But I’ll leave you a credit card for furniture and groceries. If you get rid of my drinks in the fridge I’m literally never forgiving you.”

“Noted, and I don’t need forgiveness,” Pepper says. “But they’ll stay there.”

So begins the plot.

Pierce doesn’t know three things, which is a lot of things not to know:

1.) Tony Jarvis is not Tony Jarvis.

2.) Rhodey actually likes Tony and most of the time him saying that he would “kill Tony in a variety of ways, starting with sporks and moving forward...” is mostly (mostly) a joke.

3.) Pepper Potts resides in their apartment and is having fun telling Tony she bought new silverware.

“Why did you buy new silverware! It was fine!”

“I recognized all of these forks and knives from restaurants. Why did you steal them from restaurants?”

“They can replace them!”

“Don’t. Anyways now your spoons match and you don’t have the shitty ones from different places. Also I painted the bathroom.”

“My landlord is gonna kill me.”

“I made her cookies and discovered that she likes going to concerts. You’ll be fine.”

(Pepper is a goddess. You can’t convince them otherwise.)

Pierce doesn’t know any of this, but he still holds a key piece of blackmail: Tony Jarvis shouldn’t know about Hydra, and he’ll do anything to make sure that he doesn’t lose his job.

Tony has been recording their conversations for weeks.

(Pierce thinks he doesn’t design things to get around the available technology. Pathetic.)

He also has bugged Pierce as well as his house, and figures out that Winter Soldier is going to be on assignment within the DC area in an effort to kill some higher-up on the foodchain that was SHIELD.

Well.

Tony has always wanted to go and see the cherry blossoms a little more up close.

Pepper, of course, doesn’t like that they left his boots on.

“This couch is new and red,” she says. “Take off his boots!”

“He is unconscious and probably won’t be in the next fifteen minutes,” Rhodey says. “We are not touching him and possibly shortening that fifteen minutes.”

Winter Soldier wakes up to three faces staring at him.

“Mission failed?” he asks, voice robotic.

“Nope, you just got a new one,” says the man on the right. He is wearing a t-shirt. Winter Soldier thinks that in this situation, a t-shirt is not the best option.

(Of course, he’s not supposed to think. But they don’t have to know that.”

“Can you take your shoes off?” says the woman in the middle. “Please. You’re getting germs on the couch.”

He’s confused.

“Who am I killing?”

“No one, yet,” says the man on the left. “Do you know who you are?”

“Winter Soldier.”

“No, like a name? I’m assuming you’ve had a name at some point.”

“Someone has called me Mr. Freeze before.”

The man on the left snorts. Man on the right taps his arm lightly.

“Well, um, okay then. How do you feel about the name...aw shit. I can’t think of a name for you when your mask is on. Can you take the mask off?”

He takes it off. It’s nicer to breathe.

The man in the t-shirt pauses.

“Okay. So your name is Bucky Barnes. Do you know that name?”

Something clicked. But he doesn’t know what.

“Sounds...familiar.”

“Cool! So that’s your name now, do me a favor and don’t google it. I’m Tony, this is Rhodey, and this is Pepper. If you don’t take your shoes off, you’re going to be scared of her.”

Newly-named-Bucky highly doubts that he will be scared of Pepper because she is built like a twig and she is wearing high heels.

(He is wrong about ten minutes later when she forcibly throws a fork at him.)

“Why am I here?” he asks. “Should I be checking back in with Handler Pierce?”

“No,” comes the consensus from everyone else in the room.

“Technically, he thinks you went rogue and went back to Russia. He’s organizing a team to go get you. We hired an actor to play you. It’s been entertaining. He got some plums. Do you like plums?”

“Why is that relevant?”

“It’s vapid and not interesting at all, Tony loves questions like that,” Rhodey says. “Now come on. We need to get you actual shirts. Also some body wash.”

Bucky Barnes learns how to be a person. He stares at himself in the mirror for an hour and smiles slightly when Pepper calls him “vain” and pushes him aside to grab her hairbrush.

He then learns that Hydra is trying to overtake SHIELD and they have a slight window with Pierce out.

This involves two things:

1.) Tony Stark coming back from the dead.

2.) SHIELD panicking that they didn’t know this secret and taking another look at the paperwork, in which case Hydra will be found out.

These are both easier than anticipated. Tony can act like a showman better than anyone, and has been carefully growing a goatee that is eerily reminiscent of his late father’s. Of course he’s had to switch it up.

The media is going crazy. SHIELD as well. They’re scrambling to find paperwork that proves that it happened, and they find that the “accident” was no accident. That Howard hadn’t been working for the “enemy” at the time.

The enemy was in the building, and they had blended in seamlessly.

This all happens on a Wednesday, by the way. Pepper has it marked on the calendar and everything. Rhodey made his coffee.

Bucky is busy slamming people into drywall and listening for any word from Rhodey, who is also slamming people into drywall.

“You know, you’d think we’d get something like a suit of armor for this,” Rhodey pants out, slamming another guy out of his way.

Bucky nods.

“Best I can offer is a grenade.”

“Where in the fuck did you get a grenade?!”

“Supply closet. Second floor. What, you didn’t check?”

“No sorry must’ve missed it--of course I didn’t fucking check the second floor closet!” Rhodey yells.

Bucky says he’s stressed. He should calm himself.

Rhodey chucks a particularly nasty Hydra agent out a window.

(Bucky thinks Rhodey is probably the coolest person he’ll ever meet.)

Tony is fashionably late to the take-down of the century. He’s already foiled a lot of plans, and taken a key-card for Project Insight to work.

He waltzes in and nearly gets hit by a mug.

“So, how’s the party going?” he yells over to Pepper. Pepper is still in her heels. She looks like a goddess still, as usual. It is a Wednesday, after all.

“As fine as it can be,” Pepper says. “We’ve met some resistance. With Pierce gone there’s little infrastructure. You got his plane delayed, correct?”

“Even better. Got it sent to London. Motherfucker is gonna be there for a while,” Tony says. “Also may or may not have said that he was a threat. SHIELD branch there will investigate, find out some questionable things in his file that he will swear up and down were never there.”

“Good,” Pepper says. She launches a stapler at someone’s head. “Do you think we’ll have time to pick up takeout for dinner?”

“Depends on whether or not Deputy Director Hill is Hydra.”

They see Maria Hill pass by in a blur, yelling as she jumps onto a man and sends him crashing down over a railing.

“Lovely, she isn’t!” Pepper cheers. “By the way, I was thinking about redoing our kitchen.”

“‘Our’ kitchen?” Tony says, ducking a bullet and drawing out his personal lipstick-laser, firing it with expert precision. “I told you the living situation was temporary.”

“Oh please, you have an extra room.”

“Which was an office!” Tony tells her.

“Like you can’t have your office at Stark Industries,” Pepper says. “I expect to hear how the reveal went over dinner. Also, please hire me back. I don’t wanna be your interior decorator for forever.”

“Neither do I, you like modern art. Disgusting.”

And so the fighting resumes.

It is done by five-thirty-two, with an official surrender from Pierce.

“Thank god, I already ordered Chinese and they said it’d be here at six,” Rhodey says.

They all sit on the red couch.

Shoes on.

Tony tips four hundred percent.

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” Rhodey asks.

“I am not moving for six hours,” Bucky answers. “Also maybe getting a library card.”

“This is the first thing you want out of the icebox? A library card?” Tony asks, laughing.

Pepper laughs.

“I have errands to run. You can come with me and we’ll swing by.”

“What are the errands?”

“Getting a kitchen mixer and also making sure that my plates match my napkins.”

“A travesty if it doesn’t happen,” Rhodey deadpans. “Pass the lo mein, Tony. You’re hogging it.”

“I had to fight on a Wednesday and run,” Tony says. “Today isn’t cardio day.”

“Literally hate it when you speak,” Rhodey says. “Absolutely abhor your language.”

They go to bed, although it’s more of laying on the floor.

Sure, Tony will have to deal with retaking a business that he knows a bit less about and Pepper will have to be trained (again) and also fight against being made CEO (but she won’t fight much). Rhodey will get a new job with SI because it’s not like Tony will let him work at SHIELD (Rhodey tries, Tony will get him fired at some point). Bucky just...he needs to get a bit more than a library card.

But that’s for tomorrow.

#BUCKLE IN BOYS WE GOT A LONGGGGGG ONE #bucky barnes #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #yes this took all day yes i didn't proofread it #but i love this so much #lovelyirony writes

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victoriareyloficlists · 4 years ago

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26 January 2021 Additions to Reylo Work Environment

These fics have been added to the Enemies-to-Lovers list located here.

Boss/Employee Relationship

The Elevator by someonesbeenhere (AO3 2020 Rated M Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Hard working Tech Support Rey is working late one evening when she gets stuck in a broken elevator with a complete stranger. He manages to distract terrified Rey through some rather promiscuous means. Unfortunately for Rey, her seductive saviour isn’t a random from another department but none other than the CEO of the First Order company, Ben Solo himself.) Fears Must Be Faced For Growth To Take Place by CariadRose (AO3 2020 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: “She couldn’t (shouldn’t?) fantasise about her boss, even if he did make her heart explode every time he made eye contact. Bosses were off limits, it was a rule right? You don’t date your friends exes, you don’t date your siblings friends and you definitely don’t date your boss. No matter how much you want to.”) inconceivable by tothefoolswhodream (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Hux notices that Ben is more reasonable in company meetings when Rey is there as well. Hux starts planning things. Shenanigans ensue.) Getting Personal by Erulisse17 (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, 15 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo keeps scaring away personal assistants until Hux hires one that isn't afraid of him. Not only is Rey not scared of him, she is ruthlessly efficient, refuses to put up with his nonsense, and disconcertingly pretty. And also seems to genuinely want to help him, which clearly means she's up to something. Right?) Off the cuff by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Poe gets Ben a stripper for closing a business deal. Ben reluctantly takes part to not waste Poe's money. The stripper hand cuffs him and robs him of clothes and money. Rey heads back to the office late night and finds her hot boss cuffed to the office chair in nothing but his tie.) Variance by Stargazer1116 (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, 23 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is heartbroken when she learns her temporary visa is expiring...and is mortified when her office crush. Kylo Ren, catches her crying about it. He is a partner in Skywalker & Associates law firm where she is an assistant. One thing leads to another...and what started as a simple solution for each of their problems turns into something much...much more. Together they wade through their deep scars to love.) Trouble for Thanksgiving by Biekewieke (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 40 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Kenobi's temporary work visa is about to expire. She needs her boss' signature on her renewal application to get the extension she desperately wants and needs. Only her boss, the infamous Ben Solo, is an asshole. He's notoriously difficult and she knows this firsthand. Nevertheless, she needs his signature on those papers if she wants to avoid being deported by the end of the year... So when Rey tells her about her looming deportation, he finds a way to bend the situation to suit his own needs. Except, for the first time in his adult life, things don't go exactly as planned when he takes her home for the holidays...) I'd Find You and I'd Choose you by JGoose13 (AO3 2020 Rated M Complete, 6 Chapters, Reincarnation AU, Quick Synopsis: wife, fostered her for a time as a child. In order to keep their legacy and light alive, Rey moves in. As she begins to pick through the life of this couple, Rey makes a shocking discovery in the attic. What's worse? The discovery involves her boss, Ben Solo, a man she absolutely abhors.) What a difference a day makes by whateveriguess (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben is endlessly grumpy, exacting in his criticism, and irritable. And more than anything else, he's exhausted. Rey is too much. She's too brave, too intent on having her new colleagues like her, and she cares too much. (Brought to you by plotting, Internet articles with shady science, and the company Slack).) Chef's (Uns)Table by TheAlchemistsDaughter (AO3 2019 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo Ren is a high-powered chef with an explosive temper. Nevertheless, Rey likes him. To get him to come out of the kitchen, she and her friends try to wind him up. When someone asks for ketchup, it works a little too well.) Strictly Business by WinglessOne (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 11 Chapters, The Proposal Film AU, Quick Synopsis: Working for a nationally recognizable magazine is a huge honor, one that Ben Solo doesn't take lightly. His boss, Rey Erso, would be the first to agree and is thoroughly comfortable with her status as editor-in-chief. When her visa status is denied, she'll do anything to stay in the United States and avoid being deported back to England. Even if that means forcing her assistant to marry her.) Go And Catch A Falling Star Chapter 50 by Ayearandaday (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben needs to get married in order to get full ownership of his company. Rey learns about her boss' predicament and offers a helping hand.) Silent Night by avidvampirehunter (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo, one of the higher-ups at First Order Insurance, has spent roughly one year dreading the inevitable—falling for Rey Kenobi, one of his most mysterious and alluring employees. Little does he know that Rey herself has been fighting the same temptations, nor that she may be losing the will to even try. When he ends up drawing her name for the annual Secret Santa gift exchange, the merciless hand of fate pushes them together through the storm raging outside—and in their hearts.) more everything by caisha (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: He was arrogant, condescending, and an asshole. And he didn't have a mark on his wrist.) Believe it or not by P_Dunton (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Everyone can see their soulmates when they sleep. Except for Rey Niima. When she closes her eyes, there’s never anyone there. Most say this happens when the other soul partner doesn’t sleep. After years and years of this, Rey has given up on ever finding her other half. Ben Solo is an angry, bitter shell of a man. He tries to stay awake as long as he can, using whatever means possible to avoid dreams. Because his soulmate is dead.)

Coworkers

Kindle Love by spacewitchase (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey is secretly smitten with Ben. It’s a big blow when she hears that he just got ‘Tinder’ and is really enjoying it. Only he doesn’t have Tinder; what he’s really enjoying is reading books on his new Kindle (and he has a secret crush on Rey).) Let me Dream, Let me Stay by Melusine11 (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 12 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey has kept up a charade of a non-existant boyfriend for two years and now that Rose and Finn are getting married, she needs someone to pretend to be said boyfriend, enter her coworker Ben.) It's All I Can Do To Leave You Alone by TazWren (AO3 2019 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is determined to figure out who is breaking into his office and arranging his action figures into explicit positions.) caught in the headlights by jeeno2 (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Johnson forgets to wear a bra to work. Fortunately, nobody notices. (Except for Ben Solo.)) Fight, Flight, or F____ by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets a dildo advent calendar for office secret santa. Ben is absolutely panicking, his chance with the cute girl is absolutely toast. Poe would be mad that Ben took the wrong wrapped gift from the counter this morning but he can always buy Finn a new one and this is hilarious.) Let's Meet Under the Mistletoe by GreyForceUser (ReyandKyloforever) (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Johnson and Ben Solo do not get along. Their first meeting was less than impressive. A change in circumstances forces Rey and Ben to work together to stage a huge black-tie Christmas party in a ridiculously short period of time. Only time will tell if they can stand each other long enough to pull it off or if the whole thing will crash and burn.) No Chance, No Way by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Just as Rey's decided to give up on love, she gets partnered to co-write Valentine's themed articles with the office grump, who... maybe isn't such a grump.) (won’t you let me) walk you home from school by somethingdifferent (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 32 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben, a counselor in the upper school at the legendary Alliance Academy, keeps finding himself interacting with the lower school art teacher, Rey. He definitely doesn’t like it. ) the theory of dance by blessedreylo (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Hogwarts AU, Quick Synopsis: Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Rey Niima and Potions Professor Ben Solo are always at each others throats in the corridors of Hogwarts. Headmaster Kenobi has seen enough, and is making them teach a dance class to students in preparation for the Yule Ball. Can these professors learn to get along or will their rivalry turn into another kind of passion?) A Reylo Christmas by Biekewieke (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: So when Leia Organa asks her Personal Assistant Rey to join her on a family vacation in Mon Torri for the holidays and highlights a big bonus, what is she to do? Only catch... Leia's son is coming along... Ben Solo is the enfant terrible of the family. Broody, sullen and with a huge chip on his shoulder, the young man is notoriously difficult.) Lessons in Attraction by AttackoftheDarkCurses, thebuildingsnotonfire (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 12 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Notorious rivals Ben and Rey teach at Alderaan High. They're constantly bickering and driving their coworkers and students crazy. The only solution is to set them up together, right?) Hear Me Out by vuas (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey’s coworker Ben has an unusual side gig. He records audio erotica.)

Client Relationship

Magic Touch by KyloTrashForever (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: In which Rey is going through a dry spell, and she’s the only one who doesn’t realize Ben wasn’t hired to help her end it.) Say It With Feeling by amybeegood (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 18 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Meet Rey, the Maid/Escort who really needs a solid day job and Ben, the reclusive, virgin billionaire who doesn't have a clue about real life or how to hire household help.) Bespoke by fettuccine_alfreylo (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 12 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When new stylist Rey Jackson receives a request to dress the hottest (and most unfashionable) new actor in Hollywood, she gets a lot more than she bargained for. Mentally AND physically. Because Ben Solo is freaking massive.)

#reylo #reylo fanfic

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rareficsnstuff · 5 years ago

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Good Morning! [Iwaizumi, Bokuto]

Summary: Iwaizumi was invited to work out with Bokuto at one of the best gyms around and it’s honestly a great deal. The only problem is… He prefers a peaceful morning routine – a good breakfast, some stretches, and a jog followed by some core and arm strengthening with a little music maybe – but Bokuto was adamantly just not that kind of person. The actual opposite of peaceful. And, unfortunately, this becomes more and more apparent as time goes on.

Words: 1,832

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Damn, it was early. The sun wasn’t even awake yet. Iwaizumi didn’t have a problem with being up early, per say, but now that the time had come, he was kind of regretting the agreement he had made with a certain someone to get together and work out at such an ungodly hour. He wasn’t sure he could handle all that energy before he was fully awake. But he had agreed and dammed if he wasn’t a man of his word.

So here he was, out in the chill of early morning, waiting for his workout partner to show up to let him in with his platinum-member gym pass. And all this before coffee. Dear lord, this was gonna be exhausting…

“Good morning!” A bracing voice broke though the darkness behind him, making him jolt and grunt in surprise before turning quickly to see the speaker. With nose and cheeks pink, and eyes glassy from the cold, his face-splitting grin was almost offensive to Iwaizumi.

“Why the hell are you so cheerful this early in the morning? It’s cold out here; can we go inside?” he grumbled. Unaffected by the less-than-warm greeting he got in return, Bokuto turned to the door, fishing his wallet out of his pocket to retrieve his gym pass before stepping inside and holding the door for Iwaizumi.

“Sorry if I made you wait a long time. I tried to get here as fast as I could,” Bokuto said after they had checked in and went to settle in at what Bokuto had called his favorite spot – a far-off corner of the gym, almost completely secluded by a dividing wall. He had mentioned in passing that the only way to get it was to arrive really early like this. And aside from the employee managing the front desk in the other room, they were the only ones here.

“It’s fine. I only got here a minute or two before you,” said Iwaizumi, bluntly.

“Good!” Bokuto chirped, grinning brightly again. “So, do you have a specific routine? I thought we could coordinate so that one of us could spot for the other when we need to.”

“Sounds good.”

They spent the next few minutes working out that they would both start on the treadmill before moving on to core and lower-body exercises. They decided once they finished everything they could do together, Bokuto would be first to spot the other. About a half hour later, they had finished the majority of their routine and only Iwaizumi had pull-ups left to do while Bokuto took a water break.

Throughout the whole process, Bokuto had not. Stopped. TaLkINg. And it was really starting to get on Iwaizumi’s nerves. Most of his topics were just random occurrences he had experienced which he recalled with extreme enthusiasm at volumes the brunet was not ready to handle at this time of day. He’d like to believe that he was managing his temper pretty well; he had only snapped at Bokuto a handful of times and he hadn’t even fully raised his voice. But Bokuto was really toeing the line.

“So… are you always this grumpy when you work out?” the taller was saying, giving Iwaizumi a calculating look. “’Cause I think that might affect your blood pressure, which isn’t good when you’re working out,” he said idly.

“I know that!” Iwaizumi snapped. “And I am not always like this; I’m just not used to getting up this early and having to deal with loudasses like you!”

“You’re the one who’s yelling…” the taller replied calmly before taking another sip of water. This made Iwaizumi growl.

“Do not just pretend you haven’t been bouncing off the walls since we got here! And stop distracting me, I… Dammit!” he roared. “I lost count.”

“Fifty-seven,” Bokuto supplied, making Iwaizumi grumble as he continued on. “Honestly though, you gotta chill, bud. I really don’t know what you’re so uptight about. Doesn’t it feel great to work up a sweat like this?! It’s so fulfilling, right?!”

“Shut up.”

“Aww, don’t be like that! You gotta have fun with this!” Bokuto grinned.

“I’m having a blast, trust me,” Iwaizumi said flatly. Bokuto’s own face fell at the other’s lack of enthusiasm. If he was being honest, the grouch was kinda starting to get on his nerves. He stared at him quietly for a moment as he continued his pull-ups, almost scowling. He just didn’t understand; what’s not to love about all this! You get a head start on the day and you wake yourself up in the most productive way possible, and there was just something about the crispness and the smell of the morning air that made him so glad to be alive. And it was even better now with a friend here to keep him company! As Bokuto continued to watch, and Iwaizumi was reaching seventy in his pull-ups, an idea came to mind.

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he made his way to stand behind Iwaizumi. After considering him for a moment longer, Bokuto brought his hands up to the shorter man’s torso and quickly skittered them along his exposed sides.

“Seventy-eight, seventy-niAAHAha! H-hey! The hell!?” The second he felt the teasing sensations running up his sensitive sides, Iwaizumi spammed, immediately letting go of the pull-up bar to protect himself.

“Oh, no, please; don’t let me stop you,” Bokuto said as his fingers continued their skittering and moved up to his ribs. “By all means, carry on. Finnish your pull-ups.”

“Bo-whahA! NO! Stohop thaaahahat! B-bokuhutooo!” Iwaizumi chuckled, just shy of full-on laughter as he desperately grappled for a hold on Bokuto’s wrists and twisted in place.

“Now see, that’s much better, Yeah?!” said Bokuto, cheerfully. As the sensations progressively got worse, Iwaizumi began to fold in on himself, both from the force of his laughter and in an attempt to create some kind of protection.

Although he had a vice grip on Bokuto’s wrists, Iwaizumi couldn’t seem to summon the strength or concentration to pry the offending hands away. Bokuto’s fingers were relentless! He’d only changed spots twice since the attack started – at one point he’d gone to claw at his belly, but quickly found that his ribs warranted a much better reaction, so he decided to stay there. Bokuto had been pinching, nibbling, and massaging the lower sides of his ribs for so long now that Iwaizumi could feel himself starting to tear up. What the hell! He wasn’t even that ticklish there! It was just the relentlessness of it!

“Doesn’t it feel good to get rid of all those grumpies?!” Bokuto asked, teasingly.

“Shuhut it, you weihirdoho!” Iwaizumi growled through his laughter, bouncing and stomping his feet adorably in a useless attempt to alleviate the torture.

“Oops! Still a trace of grump in there~ Nah, don’t worry, I got it.” Before he had the chance to even think of reacting, the juggernaut of a man behind him had knocked Iwaizumi’s legs out from under him, grabbed one of the brunet’s wrists after breaking out of his victim’s hold, and used his free hand to push him down to the ground by his shoulder. Bokuto was usually pretty even-tempered and friendly (outside of when he was playing volleyball, of course), so sometimes it was easy to forget just what an absolute behemoth he really was. And now, suddenly, Iwaizumi found himself looking up at the sparkling eyes and child-like grinning face of Bokuto as he hovered over him, pinning his hips between his knees. Iwaizumi’s eyes widened in terror.

“Bokuto, wait-“ he pleaded.

“Here we goooo ~”

“No, wait! Bo-hhaHAHAHAAAaa!” Shit. There it was. Bokuto got his worst spot. By pure stroke of luck, but still… Back arched, head thrown back, and legs kicking frantically, Iwaizumi was straight up cackling now and his hands could only weakly, uselessly tug at the white haired man’s wrists. “AAAAaaahahahahaaaAAA! Naha-! Nahat theeehehere!”

“Oh, wow. Bad spot?” Bokuto asked bluntly. He grinned. “Hey, hey, hey, looks like I gotcha ~!” Although the attack on Iwaizumi’s death spot already had him in hysterics, now that Bokuto knew what he was dealing with, it was downright unbearable. His finger’s torturing movements were hyper focused, implementing the most insufferable tactics on his upper ribs near his underarms and- oh, there were the tears he had been worried about earlier.

“NaaahahahaaAAAA! Y-youhu Bastahahard! Stahapit! StahapstapstahahahAHAAAA!” He really needed Bokuto to stop. He was gonna pass out. It tickled sooo bad.

“Gotta work that cardio, dude,” Bokuto said, grinning. “Oh, god. You’re turnin’ kinda purple. Alright, alright, I guess I’m done…” he said passively, finally ceasing his torture and releasing Iwaizumi to stand to his feet. The shorter was left grinning and breathless on the floor, curling in on himself as he recovered. Bokuto chuckled.

“You have a great laugh, dude! So warm and full! You really should use it more often,” he said, placing his hands on his hips and grinning brightly down at his companion.

“Uh-haha… T-thanks… I guess,” Iwaizumi said, bashfully. Having finally regained some energy, he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, a small, crooked smile stuck on his face.

“Sure! Can you stand up?”

“Y-yeah. I’m good,” he said, climbing laboriously to his feet and grinning all the while.

“You need some water?” said Bokuto, almost apologetically as he handed him his water bottle.

“Thanks.” Iwaizumi s accepted the bottle with a shaky hand and took a few swigs. “Listen, Bokuto… I-I know I’ve been kind of a pill… You were totally right and I’m-…I’m really sorry.”

“No worries, man! No worries! It’s all good! I-I totally get it, though. I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes… All the time depending on who you are. Heh… Sorry about that.” Iwaizumi scoffed good-naturedly. “So how about this? I’ll try to rein it in a little, and you ~” Bokuto accented with a vibrating claw at Iwaizumi’s belly – at which the brunet jumped back with a snigger and a half-hearted swat at the offending hand. “Try ta lighten up a little, huh ~?”

“Y-yeah… I think I can do that. Sounds like a deal,” he agreed.

“AWSOME!- Oops… Sorry,” Bokuto finished in a sheepish whisper when he caught Iwaizumi’s deadpanned expression. “So! You’ve still got some pull-ups to finish, yeah?” Iwaizumi gave a sarcastic bark of laughter.

“You really think I’m gonna stick my arms up with you anywhere near me? I don’t think so. Why don’t we just move on…” Bokuto laughed exuberantly, giving him a friendly slap on the back.

“Sure, sure, whatever you want, Iwaizumi!” Bokuto said as he turned to prepare for their next exercise. “I think someone’s afraid of the tickle monster ~.” Bokuto teased, smirking at Iwaizumi over his shoulder. The brunette was still facing away from him, but Bokuto could see that his neck and ears had turned red and Bokuto chuckled, earning a slap on the arm from Iwaizumi. Bokuto grinned wider.

“Shut up.”

#haikyuu!!#iwaizumi hajime #Bokuto Koutarou #tickle fic

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lia-jones · 4 years ago

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Growing Together - Chapter Ten - How Far We've Come

Victor watched her from afar as she fumbled with the zipper of her dress. He found her adorable, lightly scoffing at herself, her small hands trying to position to a good angle to get the job done, while she carefully watched herself in the mirror.

He mischievously stood in the distance, concealing himself from her, letting her fend for herself a little longer while he observed. This was his guilty pleasure, a small moment that was only his, when she was alone, oblivious to his presence, lost in a secret dialogue with herself. He drank every one of her expressions, how she silently scolded herself when she failed to do what she intended, how she would secretly pat herself in the back when she finally achieved it.

Eventually, feeling he had had his daily fix, he walked up to her and placed his hands on top of hers, still trying to pull the zipper.

“Need help?” He couldn’t help the slight amusement in his voice.

“Ugh. Yes.” She scoffed, turning her back to him so he could help her. “These dresses are so needlessly complicated. I’m always afraid I’ll pull too hard and rip the fabric.”

“That’s why husbands were invented.” He joked. “To help their clumsy wives zip their dresses.”

“Is that so?” She played along. “I thought it was to change tires.”

“No, that’s why road assistance was invented.” He quipped.

“Right, I’ve never seen you change a tire ever.” She turned and placed her hands on his chest, looking pensive. “Hm. I got myself a faulty husband.” She teased.

“And I got myself a wife that can’t reach the top shelf without help.” He smirked. “Life isn’t perfect.”

“How dare you?” She smacked his chest, making him chuckle. “That’s it, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She went to look for her purse, pretending to be offended.

“Tonight is a big night.” He changed the subject. “Feeling nervous?”

“I think, at this point, feeling nervous is pretty much my normal state.” She laughed at her own exaggeration. “Ok, honestly, how do I look?”

The deep green satin dress looked stunning on her. The lace on the corset hugged her breasts in a perfect and elegant way, and the backless design showed her soft skin, the one he loved to kiss in their most intimate moments. He softly ran his fingers on her back, anticipating the events that would follow the gala.

“Honestly?” He pulled her closer, whispering wet in her ear. “Breathtaking.”

Inside the limousine, on their way to the ceremony, he heard her laugh, looking at her phone.

“Just look at this.” Andrea showed him the screen. He immediately identified Guy, Xavier and Mr. Mills in Guy’s restaurant, toasting with red wine, a caption below the picture that said: Á belle Andrea! Felicitations!

“That was heartwarming.” He quipped. “Remind me to send them something to thank them for the support.”

The beautifully decorated ballroom was brimming with warmth and life, and Victor could hear in every corner people engage in interesting conversations about religion, economy or politics. The greatest minds of Loveland were gathered into that very same place, and anyone that was remotely interested in drinking a little bit of knowledge was bound to have a very bountiful night.

Victor and Andrea were received with honor and enthusiasm by the GESA president and his assistant, Andrea being treated almost like royalty. True to herself, his wife was impervious to all the flattery, as she still couldn’t place herself among the great. Victor knew that was her greatest weapon: because she never felt like she was finally arriving, she would never stop walking. And because of that, no one knew how far she would walk.

As they sat at their table and Andrea, the eternal social butterfly, chatted idly with some guests, Victor let his mind wander to years before. Two years before, to be exact, when he didn’t know she would be his, and she didn’t know she would be brilliant. But on that specific day, he saw something on her that told him she would go far. And how.

It was a Saturday morning, and he was visiting Loveland’s Public Library. The Mayor had invited him under the pretense of showing his last monetary donation had been used, but Victor was no fool. He was perfectly aware that the politician was after another donation. Still, he let himself be led by the man through the many floors of the building, pretending to be unaware of his true intentions. It wasn’t like he had better plans anyway, and he knew how important his donations were, especially to students that couldn’t afford the books that their classes demanded.

“This should interest you since it’s your field.” The Mayor announced as they arrived at the Economic Sciences floor. “We are proud to say that, thanks to your generosity, we have an extensive collection of books and manuals. As you can see by how busy this place is, many students come here to study and research during the weekends.”

Victor took a look around at the place, and just like the Mayor said, all the tables were occupied with laptops and books, the people sitting at them engaged in stimulating conversations. Most of these people weren’t born with a silver spoon on their mouths like he had, and thanks to something that required little effort from him, they could study and work for a better life. Victor couldn’t think of a better use for his money. Enjoying a sudden feeling of accomplishment, Victor was about to leave to visit the next floor, when something caught his eye. At the end of the room, by the corner, was that Portuguese girl that worked for him, the one he had hired just a couple of months ago, Andrea.

His heart gave the alarm, pounding heavily, giving the rest of his body all sorts of instructions. He could feel something inside him flutter, his breath becoming faster, his palms starting to sweat. He had no idea why that woman caused such a reaction in him, the only time he spoke to her was during her interview, and he sure wasn’t going to let himself get all flustered for someone he barely knew. So he took a discreet deep breath, trying to regain control, telling his own body to quit the nonsense.

Despite it all, there was no harm in staying for a little longer and observing her. He was naturally interested in studying people’s behavior, especially the people that worked for him. It was not like he was staying behind to look at her, per se, he just wanted to know what she really was like. He could even say it was a precautionary measure, no more than that. With that thought firmly in mind, because there was obviously no other reason to do what he was about to do, he turned to the Mayor.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to take the time to explore this place a little bit further. Alone. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Before the Mayor could retort, Victor turned his back on him. Taking a random book from one of the shelves, he sat on a corner where he could see her but was sure she couldn’t see him. It would be enjoyable to just sit and read for a while, enjoy the ambiance, he told himself. No, this had nothing to do with her at all.

However, Victor realized that he had no idea if the book he was holding was actually interesting. He was yet to read a word of it. Instead, his eyes kept stubbornly drifting back to her, curious to see what she was doing.

Her table was full of books, her open laptop, and a notebook ridiculously filled with colorful sticky notes. She looked different than usual, wearing casual jeans and a navy blue sweater, her curly hair in a messy bun that a pencil kept in place. She was laser-focused on her work, apparently taking quotes from one of the books and typing them on her laptop, making the occasional annotation on her notebook. The several empty cups of coffee at her table indicated she had been working since quite early, probably the whole morning.

Victor realized that, much to his surprise, a feeling of pride was growing inside him, and he simply put it aside, like he did with most of his feelings. He had nothing to be proud about, she was merely an employee, no one of relevance in his life. Besides, for all he knew, she was working hard but failing miserably, making all sorts of unforgivable mistakes.

Still, he had to admit, her effort was remarkable. Most people slept in on Saturday mornings or spent their weekend resting or entertaining themselves with ludic activities, and yet she was there, buried in books for who knew how long. Furthermore, Victor knew the previous day had been hard for her, as Ted had told him that they left the company close to midnight, due to a problem one of his clients had. Regardless, she was there. It was ridiculous for Victor to feel proud of her, but completely understandable if he experienced at least a shred of surprise.

She stopped her work, reading the covers of the books she had on her table, and frowning. She suddenly got up from her table and walked to the librarian’s desk. Without a second thought, Victor followed her.

“Excuse me.” He heard her call the librarian. “Do you by any chance have “The Theory of Development”, by Aidan Thorpe?”

Victor knew that book. It was a study published in the ’90s that had caused immense controversy, so further editions had been canceled, remaining only the first printed copies. Victor had purchased it for his personal collection and found it brilliant. It was interesting that Andrea was also using it.

The librarian struck a few keys on her computer and shook her head, Andrea’s face falling, disheartened. Thanking the woman, she turned to leave, absorbed in her thoughts. In fact, so absorbed that she wasn’t minding where she was going and bumping-

On him.

“Oh God, it’s you!” She jumped back, looking slightly frightened. “I mean, good morning, Sir. And I’m sorry.”

It was obvious to Victor that she became deeply uncomfortable with the sight of him. That quickly put him in a bad mood.

“Watch where you’re going.” Victor scolded her, although he didn’t mean to. “Looking for Thorpe’s work? It’s incredibly hard to find.”

“I know.” She sighed. “There was a copy at Calouste Gulbenkian, back at home, I’ll try to see if I can get any copies of it.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, not looking him in the eye.

“Interesting fashion choice.” He mocked, pointing to the pencil in her hair. “Is that how young people use stationery these days?”

“I forgot my hair tie.” She seemed unamused. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Enjoy your weekend.”

Victor had no choice but to watch her and she hurriedly walked to her table, gathering all her things and leaving in a rush. She obviously couldn’t stand him. But then again, he knew he wasn’t all that loveable, being a business mogul comes with a price, and for the most part, he was willing to pay it. Yet, he couldn’t shake the sadness to see her leave like that.

Back at his apartment, Victor found himself staring at his bookshelf. Something was brewing inside him, he could feel it, but he was too much of a coward to look at it. He had been hurt before. He needed to tread lightly.

But she needed this. And it was so easy to give it to her. Was he really the kind of person that would disregard someone’s need for the sake of self-preservation? With a decided scoff, he took the book off his shelf and placed it on his coffee table. On the inside of the cover, he wrote a few words, closing it immediately.

He took his phone and dialed the number. She could never know.

“I will give you the donation you need.” He spoke, eyes focused on the book. “However, I have a special request.”

“Is everything ok?” He heard her ask. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“What? Are you done listening to Frank’s dissertations about his trips to Namibia?”

“I find them interesting actually.” She came close to him, whispering in his ear. “But the man does talk a lot .”

They both chuckled privately, as they watched from the corner of their eyes the said guest go on another tirade, gesticulating furiously. He lovingly took his wife’s wrist, the one where she wore her charm bracelet.

“You’re wearing it today.” He twirled the V charm between his fingers, proud to have her show that part of him.

“I wear it every day.” She gave him a confused frown.

“I assumed you wouldn’t today, fearing it wouldn’t go with the dress.”

“It’s part of me.” She touched the bracelet on her wrist like it was her favorite thing in the world. “I could never take it.”

He took his wife’s hand again, kissing the back, the softness of her skin and her scent making his heart swell. He loved how she proudly wore his gift, the testimony of their life together like it was her lucky charm, her source of strength.

She was very fond of symbols and superstitions, and although Victor was more of a logical man, even he had to admit the power objects seemed to have in summoning the best in someone, or their worst.

He could still remember that Sunday afternoon, after taking her out to lunch. He was at her place, baking cookies, while she worked on her study.

“It smells delicious.” She commented from the table, as he took the cookies from the tray to cool.

“It will only take another ten minutes. Are you ready for a break? I’ll boil some water for tea.”

“Yes, please.” She stretched her body, stiff from sitting so long. “I’ll clear the table.”

As the water boiled and the cookies cooled, he helped her clear the table of all books and sticky notes she had laying around, spotting the book he had donated to the library. He held it in his hand with a smile.

“That one belongs to the library.” She explained. “I should return it soon, but the librarian says I can keep it as long as I want, and to be honest, it’s breaking my heart to have to return it. I may buy it from them.”

“Why is it so special?” Victor smiled, hoping his expression wouldn’t give away his secret.

“The previous owner wrote this on the cover, see?” She opened the book, showing him the inside of the cover. “Probably for motivation. And you know what? Every time I feel overwhelmed, I look at that inscription, and I feel stronger. It does work.”

Victor couldn’t have guessed the impact his words on a cover of an old book could have on her life, but he was glad to be a positive influence in her work, even if disguised. The following week, while on a business trip, he texted her.

You no longer need to return the book. It’s yours.

“Why do I feel so nervous? I already know I won.” Andrea commented as they started announcing the awards.

“Is it because of the speech?” He held her hand. “If you forget it, just speak from the heart.”

“And now, ladies and gentleman,” a voice announced, “to present the award for Most Promising Mind in Economics… Professor Chauncey Williamson.”

Andrea froze on her seat. It was the teacher that gave her an incredibly hard time when she was defending her doctorate thesis. The professor climbed the stairs to the stage, taking the microphone.

“Ladies and gentleman, good evening.” He started. “Most of you don’t know this, but Mrs. Lee and I share a piece of history together, when she was still Miss Jones. In fact, I was one of the teachers invited to evaluate her thesis. I must admit that, while back in the day I considered Miss Jones too good to be true , Mrs. Lee has not failed to disappoint. Her ongoing study shows a lot of promise and raises many important questions, which is why it is my greatest honor to give the winner for Most Promising Mind in Economics, Dr. Andrea Lee!”

Andrea turned to her husband, pecking him on the lips, before getting up to deliver her speech.

“Go get them.” Victor whispered, before he saw his wife walk towards the stage.

“I have to admit, Dr. Williamson, I wasn’t such a fan of you back then, but I kind of like you now.” She joked, and everyone in the audience laughed. “First of all, I would like to thank GESA for this honor and its juri, and all of the present here for sharing this moment with me. I am deeply honored. There is a saying, no man is an island. And this is particularly true for this award, because, as you may imagine, I didn’t win it on my own. I’d like to thank my husband, who has been with me since day one, who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself, and made sure I was supported in every step of the way. I love you handsome, and I’m so grateful for having you in my life.”

Victor found himself close to tears, the pride and emotion being too much to bear with a straight face. He mouthed I love you too to his wife, although he knew words wouldn’t be able to convey the warmth he felt in his heart.

“I’d also like to thank my family and friends, for putting up with my absence and moods when I was too busy, you guys are the best, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I also want to thank my team, who worked relentlessly and believed in my project, taking hours and hours of their personal time so we could make the deadline we had defined. And lastly, I want to thank who I like to call my silent supporter.” Andrea’s voice faltered slightly with the emotion. “You see, when I was just starting to write my thesis for my doctorate, and I couldn’t afford expensive books for reference, I had to use the Loveland’s Public Library. There was a book that I needed, The Theory of Development, by Aidan Thorpe, and that the library was kind enough to let me take home temporarily for consultation. Inside the cover of that book, there was a quote that said The best view comes after the hardest climb. I have to say, that quote changed my life. Every time I felt disheartened, or tired, or felt like giving it up completely, I would go to that book and read that quote, and I found myself strong again. I don’t know who you are, and maybe you won’t listen to my speech, but I want to say to the world that your words gave me strength, and you are also a reason why I’m here. Thank you.”

Victor smiled as he applauded her speech, his heart feeling so big that it could barely fit in his chest. He would never tell her that the book was actually from him, and he was the one who wrote those words, although she could easily figure it out by his handwriting. He would keep it secret like his own personal treasure, the knowledge that he had been her supporter since even before she knew, that he loved her even before she loved him. This was for him and him alone. His guilty pleasure.

That day was a memorable day in their lives, and Victor couldn’t help to trace back all the events that led to it. How she started as a not so shy intern at Loveland, but so unaware of her potential. How even when faced with major difficulties, her past being all over the media, her career being on the line, she never gave up. How she bravely stood up to her abuser, and his father, and anyone who was unjust or had hurt someone significant in her life. If he had to describe his wife with a handful of adjectives, two of them would certainly be brave and relentless.

Later that night, he sat in his living room, nursing a glass of brandy and watching the city skyline, like he did many times when he was too overwhelmed by his own thoughts. Feelings like pride and love filled his heart, but there was one he could not shake off: sorrow. He had never seen his wife give up on anything, except for the thing she wanted the most. She had come so far, improved her life in so many ways, healed from the past, but there was one thing that still stung her heart: the fact that she would never become a biological mother.

As his loving husband, Victor decided that it was his duty not to let her give up on her dream, or better, their dream. He had seen her barely recover from their last try, and his heart feared that mentioning the subject again would reopen old wounds, but he couldn’t let her fold like that. There were still options. They still stood a chance.

“The bed is cold without you.” He heard her complain from the door.

“Come here.” He extended his arms to her. “I’ll warm you up.”

She sat on his lap, running her fingers through his hair.

“You’re drinking alone in the dark.” She looked at him with worried eyes. “Is something upsetting you?”

“Just lost in thought, that’s all.” He leaned his head against her chest.

“Anything in particular?” She kept combing his hair with her fingers. Victor closed his eyes, enjoying her care.

“How far we have come. How we were before, how we are now.” He mumbled.

“We did come a long way, didn’t we?” She was reminiscing. “I remember my trip to Loveland. It felt like navigating uncharted waters. I have changed so much since then.”

“Why did we give up? We never give up.” He looked up to her, knowing he didn’t need to specify. The look in her eyes told him she understood.

“I can’t give you a child, Victor.” She answered weakly.

“But we can have one. We can adopt. She may not be our blood or share physical characteristics, but we will love her. She will be ours, be a Lee, all the same.”

Andrea watched him lovingly as he spoke, tears brimming her eyes.

“I don’t want to give up just yet.” This time, it was his turn to ask. “Will you do this with me?”

“Yes.” She smiled as she let a tear fall. “I will.”

#growingtogether #Growing Pains - Series #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mister love queens choice #mister love dream date #love and producer

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