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utterlyinevitable · 4 years ago

Note

pb let me *redact* Tobias challenge 🥲

not me turning your tobias thirst asks into a 3-part mini series 😂🙈

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca Lao) x Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen+ Summary: Ethan’s still pissed at Becca for her Tobias stint when he was in the Amazon. What happens when the narcissist joins the team? Trope: Angst; Broke Up; Ethan’s POV; Fighting; Jealousy

A/N: the toxin plot didn’t happen in this universe btw.

Part 1 | Part 2

___________________________

Godly Sins: 3. Parting Wrath of Hera

That evening Tobias and Becca spoke late into the night about anything and everything. Well, everything that didn’t involve Ethan, June and hospital drama, nor their two brief wanton stints - truly getting to know one another and starting fresh.

As days and shifts and weekends rolled by, the sparkle they’ve shared began blooming into a friendship.

It was rather inevitable, really.

Two people who shared an indubitable attraction, forced to spend all their time together out of their boss’ sight - It was kismet.

Meanwhile, Ethan Ramsey had been ignoring them both for weeks outside of Diagnostic Team mandated functions - even then, interactions were brief and mediated by Harper. He’s been on edge since Tobias joined the team as Bloom’s nark, presumably. Or at least that’s what he told himself - convinced himself that nothing good could come from whatever this was.

Oh, how things go horribly, horribly sour.

Becca was sitting in the office waiting for the daily Diagnostics Team meeting to start, busying herself by scrolling through social media over eleven times in the last five minutes.

Steps away, Ethan sat at his desk, keeping a cold shoulder and looking over files he purposely keeps on his desk for awkward times just as these. The air between them stiff and stale, as heavy as it was months ago when they had their falling out. They should have acclimated to the unrelenting suffocation of being left alone together - the third shadow accompanying whatever was left of them.

But they hadn’t. Never really could once she realized Ethan would never forgive her for forming a survivalistic attachment to his biggest adversary. Rebecca Lao wasn’t going to let a man’s misplaced pride stifle her. So, she refuses to stroke his ego by hiding - even through the rancor of being alone with him, and the twangs that erupt when they’re this close. She’s not going to idly hover outside, biding time until Harper or Tobias or Naveen or a nurse, or anyone else enters the office first. She’ll sit and she’ll wait for work to begin.

And Ethan Ramsey will sit at his desk and pretend she’s not there. He’ll pretend he can’t smell her perfume, or hear the tapping of her nails to her phone or the heel to the floor as her leg jitters. He’ll pretend she’s nothing more than a ghost of the past lingering in the cornerstone of his conscious, like all the others. He’ll convince himself he’s angled away from her just enough to keep a peripheral eye on the door in case there’s an emergency, even if that line of vision is really just of her.

If Tobias noticed Ethan staring blankly ahead, he didn’t dare attempt to feign interest. The olive-skinned addition sauntered straight over to Becca, hands full and a thin, satisfied smile at home on his lips.

He set down a large coffee and sandwich wrapped in white paper in front of her. Ethan could just about read the stickered logo from where he sat. But he could see the undoubtable way Becca’s eyes lit up.

“Is this from...”

“The one and only,” Tobias had a cheeky grin - a kind of unbridled simper.

“That was fast.”

“Said I’d buy you breakfast, and I did.” He pulled out the chair closest to her and sat with his signature nonchalant grace. “Did you think I’m not a man of my word?” His hand was waving, palm up, towards the small feast before her.

“More like a flubber.”

Becca’s playful tone matched his in the most complimentary way.

Ethan caught the shining smile they shared - one that could only indicate an inside joke. One that could only mean they were spending too much time together. One that could only mean they were getting along.

Then Tobias plucked a strip of bacon off her sandwich.

And that was when something snapped in Dr. Ramsey.

They weren’t meant to be comfortable. They’re meant to suffer. That was the whole point of constantly pairing them together. These two flawed and moralless people were meant to be a punishment. Just for a while. Just until...

They made a house out of crushed stones.

They flipped the script on how this was meant to play out, and Ethan vehemently resented them for it.

As soon as Harper entered the office, Ethan bolted to his feet and rattled through the meeting. Swift, succinct and blinded by the need to be alone. Alone to plot what comes next.

He was gruffer with them for the rest of the day, and this time they noticed. The scorn seeped through Ethan’s characteristic distain like nuclear waste. Neither Becca or Tobias were guilty of whatever Ethan was holding them accountable for this time - a scapegoat for his repressed feelings. Then why did Becca feel guilty? She did nothing wrong - then or now. This is a natural progression to the seeds he sowed by banishing them.

Ethan will just have to live with the consequences.

***

The consequences came two weeks later. Powerful and damning and freezing Ethan in place, right in the middle of his office. Right in front of them.

Tobias and Becca were perched on the diagnostics’ couch. Becca’s hand is in his and he’s rubbing gentle circles of adoration to the soft skin. He didn’t stop his ministrations as the air around them, once a glorious heated serenity, now turned icy. The chill wafting through with the large presence of their past.

“I don’t want to know,” he grumbles as he pulls himself out of his stupor and storms towards his desk.

The words of her off-handed response were as hard as a lingering look into Medusa’s eyes. “Yes you do, Ethan. So ask.”

The contempt. The exasperation. The overall vile irksome in her tone… It was baiting him. She was baiting him to lose his temper. To acknowledge it all. Ethan didn’t mean to say his inner thoughts out loud, didn’t mean to revert on the divine separation he’s put between them all. And he certainly didn’t mean for her to mistake this moment as an olive branch. However decrepit it is.

Ethan didn’t ask. Just shakes his head and tries to fall back into his ignorance.

He hears the creak of the couch as the pair stand up and the shuffling of two people moving as one. Ethan’s trying so hard not to watch them - trying not to assess their every move and read too much into it. The pair move towards the door when he speaks -

An authoritative statement pegged directly at her. Eyes devoid of feeling, blue irises creeping down the Marianas trench.

“It is unethical to be involved with a colleague.”

Ethan Ramsey was foolish. Especially so to believe he could have the last word - the last victory of battle in the war he started. For Rebecca spun around with such purpose, the skirt of her dress catching on the wind. Her hands at her sides balling, sharp nails grazing palms.

A rueful snort escapes her, “Thought it was only unethical if there’s a power imbalance?”

She had him there. With the forced team democracy Tobias wasn’t technically a superior. Never mind that they aren’t together. Not really.

If he was a better man, Tobias would intervene and set the record straight. He’d position himself in the five feet between these two Edenbrook legacies instead of behind her. Watching. Decoding every tell tale in the tableau.

The way they were glaring at one another, well... The suspicion that floated as his reasoning to send the basket all those months ago was more than confirmed. And Tobias Carrick just realized what he’s just gotten himself into.

“There will be no fraternizing within my team,” Ethan’s voice strained to keep calm. Tried not to bellow the rule he’s kept in place when it comes to Rebecca Lao. His ears beginning to redden and the vein of his neck protruding.

Becca huffed a dry laugh, folded her arms across her chest and looked away. Towards Tobias.

In a few seconds many things happened. Becca’s eyes locked on Tobias, shooting him a look that could only mean one thing. Tobias smiled just for her. Ethan’s heart shattered. And Becca turned back to Ethan.

Her once copper eyes now almost entirely black. “Define fraternizing.”

That had Ethan sputtering and Tobias’ sly smile broadening.

“Because friendship is one thing,” she continued. “Sexual intercourse, another.”

That got a rise out of both men for very different reasons.

“Either way, the nature of my relationship with Tobias is none of your concern.”

They’re staring one another down. His sapphire eyes darker than she’s ever seen - all the hurt they’ve caused one another swirling between. Becca can feel the regret in the tension of his shoulders and the stiffness of his jaw. But for what, she doesn’t know - doesn’t want to. The longer she stands here, looking at him for the first time in months, she fears she’ll see every facet of pain she’s caused, and every reason to back down. And that’s too much to bear. Even after it all there’s still a part of her that loves him, always will.

She’s strong as stone before him, refusing to waver.

Tobias itches to say something, anything. Something that wouldn’t just cut through the tension...

“If it makes you feel better we’ll disclose to HR.”

Ethan’s neck could have snapped with the force of the swiftness as his head whipped towards his rival. Eyes narrowed and sizing Tobias up - decoding every subtext of the phrase. Every little bit of their unknown closeness.

With his steely gaze stuck on Tobias, Becca found the strength to pull away. Turned her back on Ethan and began walking out - not a single glance thrown back over her shoulder for either man. Tobias less than half a step behind her. Leaving Ethan with one final look.

As Ethan watched them walk out, he deflates. A knife stabbed straight to the heart he wasn’t sure he still had. Red blood that beat because of her.

For her.

Still.

***BONUS POV***

As soon as they were out of earshot, down the corridor and away from any lingering ears, Tobias spoke;

“Ever going to tell me what happened between you and Ramsey?”

“A mistake, apparently.”

He squeezed her hand and that’s all that was said on the subject.

______________________

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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#open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #tobias carrick #tobias x mc

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heauxplesslydevoted · 4 years ago

Text

Dress Up (Ethan x MC)

Summary: On Halloween night, Ethan gets a big surprise

A/N: Okay so this was the tooth rotting fluff I was talking about earlier this week.

A/N 2: I haven’t written something this short in years. Issa miracle

A/N 3: Happy Halloween! Enjoy!

~v~

The words on the paper in front of Ethan start to blur together the longer he stares at the page. He’s been at the hospital for nearly 18 hours and it’s finally starting to have an effect on him, the exhaustion finally creeping in.

It’s been a long shift. He put in some hours in the free clinic on top of helping with his patient for the diagnostics team, and dealt with a particularly exhausting meeting with a few other department heads. On top of the usual business, it’s Halloween, and the holiday has never bode well for the hospital. By the time midnight rolls around, the ER is typically packed with college students and other young 20-somethings that have gotten way too drunk, started fights, and injured themselves.

His cell phone rings and he reaches into his coat pocket to retrieve it. His mood instantly perks up when he sees ‘Naomi R’ flash across the screen accompanied by a picture of his wife’s smiling face.

It takes him mere seconds to answer the phone, balancing it delicately between his shoulder and ear. “Hello?”

“Hi handsome,” Naomi greets back.

The cheeriness in her voice cheers him up slightly. While it’s been less than a day, he’s missed the sound of her voice. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

“My job,” Ethan deadpans.

“Obviously smarty-pants. Are you working hard or hardly working?”

“I'm always working hard,” Ethan insists. “I’m trying to prepare myself for how busy the ER is going to be once the sun goes down. I hate Halloween.”

“You hate everything.”

“I hate pointless consumer holidays,” Ethan says. “Especially ones that promote candy and alcohol consumption.”

“Oh, so all the fun ones,” Naomi teases. “Where are you? Are you in the office?”

“Yes, I’m taking a break right now.”

“Perfect. Open the door.”

“Open the–” Ethan looks up, intrigued. He can’t make out any figures on the other side of the door, the frosted glass not doing him any favors. Either his lovely wife had food delivered for him, or she’s pulling some sort of Halloween trick on him. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise, so open the door.”

Deciding to play along, Ethan gets up from his huge leather chair and in a few quick strides, he’s on the other side of the room, opening the door. Looking straight ahead he doesn’t immediately see anyone standing outside. He should’ve known this was some prank of hers.

“Hi, daddy!”

The tiny voice cuts through the otherwise silent hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan sees a tiny blur practically flying towards him. The small figure collides with him with a soft thud, wrapping around him tightly.

“Oof!”

Chuckling to himself, Ethan glances down at the 3 year old clutching his pant legs like a life raft. “You are very strong for a toddler.”

“Valentina Marie Ramsey, what have I told you about running away from me!” Naomi’s voice is what captures Ethan’s attention as she speed-walks down the hall in an effort to make it to the office.

Ethan looks her up and down, confused. She’s wearing her work clothes, a simple blouse, pencil skirt and her white coat, as well as her purse and a plastic bag from CVS hanging off of her shoulder. Naomi isn’t supposed to be working today and she never dresses this formally in their casual life outside of work. “Did you take a shift?”

“Daddy, look, we're doctors because it’s Halloween!” Valentina says, garnering her dad’s attention.

The couple had given up on picking a costume for Valentina over a week ago, as the precocious toddler wasn’t good at picking one thing and sticking to it. In the past month, she’s wanted to be a pirate, a bear, a fairy, a princess, a princess fairy, and Baby Shark.

Ethan looks down at her and sees she has on a white coat of her own, one that is entirely too big for her which only makes her look that much more adorable. He smiles at her. “You make a very cute doctor, my darling.”

“Mommy says doctors are supposed to be very smart, not cute,” Valentina corrects, and while she’s already the spitting image of her mother, she sounds just like her too. She’s just as stubborn and argumentative.

“You’re the smartest 3 year old I know,” Ethan says honestly. As if a child born to him and Naomi would be anything but.

“You promise?”

“I pinky promise.”

“We were just coming by to show off our costumes, and to grab my doctor’s bag,” Naomi says. She leans forward and presses a soft kiss onto Ethan’s lips, one he doesn’t let end to quickly. Wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist, he pulls her in closer to deepen the kiss. 18 hours is far too long to go without her.

The kiss is broken up by Valentina aggressively wedging herself between the two of them. “No kissing.”

Naomi pulls away with an eye roll. “Okay, okay.” Leaving the doorway, Ethan moves backwards and allows them inside the office. Naomi instantly goes behind Ethan’s desk and grabs her physician’s bag. She usually doesn’t carry it unless the diagnostics team has to make a house call, and she empties it, making it easier for Valentina to carry around and use it as a candy bag. Before she hands it over, she empties the plastic bag she’s holding, a box of pink band-aids, popsicle sticks (aka tongue depressors), a roll of stickers, and a pair of small reading glasses fall onto the table.

Ethan watches as Naomi puts the final touches on Valentina’s costume. “Why the glasses?”

“Because you wear glasses,” Valentina answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Ethan raises an eyebrow in question, not understanding the point Valentina is trying to make. He turns to Naomi for further clarification.

“Val didn’t want to be any old doctor,” Naomi says. “She wanted to be...you.”

“Mommy said I can wear your big doctor coat!” Valentina exclaims.

And that’s when Ethan notices she is in fact wearing his spare white coat; Dr. Ethan Ramsey, M.D., F.A.C.P., stitched into it underneath Edenbrook’s logo.

While he already thought his three year old dressing up as a doctor was a sight to behold, something inside his chest warms as the thought of her wanting to be dressed up as him. Her entire world is comprised of doctors, but she wants to be a mini him.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been silent until Valentina tugs on his hand. “Are you okay, daddy? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Ethan assures her with a smile. He crouches down so they’re able to look each other eye-to-eye. “Daddy is just very happy that you want to wear my coat, that’s all.” Valentina does a spin for him, spurred on by the positive affirmation and Ethan looks up, catching Naomi’s eye. “She wants to be me, not you.”

“Whatever. She looks like me, so when people see us together, she’ll automatically assume she’s dressed up as me.”

“But you and I both know the real intent. You know, I think your costume is missing something.” Reaching around his neck, Ethan takes off his stethoscope and drapes it around her instead. “There. Now you make a perfect Ethan Ramsey.”

“So now I have to make you feel better,” Valentina says. Dramatically, she places her hand on Ethan’s forehead, as if she’s taking his temperature. “Uh-oh.”

“What’s the diagnosis, Doc?” Ethan asks.

“You have a boo-boo,” she replies matter-of-factly. “But I can make it all better.” With some help from her mother, Valentina manages to open the box of band-aids. She sticks one on her dad’s cheek, just above his mustache, and follows that up by kissing his cheek. “There! How do you feel?”

“I feel much better,” Ethan says. “Thank you for being such a good doctor.”

“You’re welcome.” She then shoves a big Hello Kitty sticker into the palm of Ethan’s hand. “And you get a sticker for being good.”

“Even better.” Ethan tugs on one of Valentina’s curls, earning a giggle.

A few more minutes pass, with Naomi and Ethan snapping as many pictures as they possibly can and Valentina putting a few more band-aids on her parents.

The door opens and Baz comes in this time, eyes downcast as he’s staring at a file. “Hey Ethan, Dr. Banerji wanted to–” he stops short, laughing as he zeroes in on the bright pink band-aids covering Ethan. “That is quite the look you got going for yourself, Ethan.”

“I’ll have you know that my lovely doctor here put these bandages on me.”

Baz’s grin turns into a wide smile as he takes in Valentina’s appearance. “Well aren’t you the cutest doctor I’ve ever seen, Teeny!”

“I’m not a cute doctor, I’m a smart doctor, Uncle Baz,” Valentina practically growls.

“I apologize for the mistake.”

Naomi glances at the large clock hanging behind Ethan’s desk. “Okay, Val, we have to go so we can get some candy before it gets too dark. Say bye-bye to daddy.”

Valentina wraps her tiny arms around Ethan’s neck, squeezing tightly. “Bye daddy. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

As Naomi gathers up all of their things, Valentina tells him all about how she can’t wait to show off her costume and get candy. It was her first time trick-or-treating, as Naomi and Ethan decided it was better to wait until she was a bit older before participating in the holiday.

Her excitement is palpable and Ethan can’t help but to feel excited too. And while it’s true he’s no fan of Halloween, the thought of not witnessing it through his daughter’s eyes makes his chest tight. “How long do you plan on taking her around?”

“An hour,” Naomi answers. “I think that appropriate enough time for a 3 year old, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Ethan turns to Baz. “Do you think you can hold down the fort for an hour?”

Baz shrugs. “Sure. But only if you bring me back a Reese’s peanut butter cup.”

“That can be arranged.” Ethan stands up, his arms still firmly secured around Valentina. “Come on, Dr. and Dr Ramsey, we have some trick or treating to do.

~v~

Tags: @professorkingslay @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @bluebellot @kaavyaethanramsey @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #open heart 2 #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #halloween

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kissinginkitchens · 4 years ago

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Seven: How Sweet It Is

a/n: Welcome back friends! Thank you again for tuning in for another chapter of YBMH. It has been so much fun to talk to you lovelies and hear your thoughts, so keep them coming! I have to give a very special thank you to the wonderful @duckyficrecs for all of the love and amazing commentary so far, I really appreciate you!! Happy reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: unrealistic standards of men (sorry)

Word Count: 6.8k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, and six

Alani’s eyes peel open and she squints at the clock on the bedside table that reads 8:53 a.m. The sun creeps in gently behind the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft, warm glow that pales in comparison to the light inside her chest. As she inhales deeply, the arm strapped across her midsection rises, but it doesn’t budge. Alani turns over carefully to face Harry still sound asleep with a light snore escaping from his parted lips. She fondly observes every detail of his serene features, from the tiny freckles atop his cheekbones to the curl of his eyelashes. As her finger glides along the slope of his nose and the indentation of his cupid’s bow, Harry stirs lightly and his arm tightens around her waist with a contented sigh. Alani drapes her leg over his hip and presses a feathery kiss to the middle of his brow that causes the edges of his sleepy mouth to twitch.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she coos and Harry’s eyes flutter open slowly.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he replies with a deep rasp in his voice.

She massages his scalp gently and he hums, planting a sweet kiss to the spot just over her heart.

“Y’hungry?” Harry murmurs against her skin.

Alani’s stomach growls in response and they both giggle.

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Need a shower first,” she decides, sitting up.

Harry groans at the loss of contact, but he manages to secure a hand around her wrist. “Ten more minutes,”

“Nice try,”

“Five?”

Alani grins before burrowing under the covers again with her cheek fit snugly against Harry’s chest. His knuckles skim over her arm as he fights the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids.

“Did y’dream anything?” he mumbles.

“I did,” she admits apprehensively. “But I don’t know if you’re gonna like it,”

“Why not?”

“Well, I sorta dreamt that I was married to James Marsden—the guy from The Notebook,”

Harry laughs gently. “Lucky bastard,”

“What about you?” Alani deflects, peering up at him with curious eyes. “Any dreams?”

“Not really. But I did wake up a few times in the middle of the night ‘cos you were hogging all the blankets,”

“I get cold!”

“Uh-huh.”

Alani presses her chilly toes against Harry’s shins and he grimaces, peeling himself out of the bed to escape her icy touch. With a self-satisfied chuckle, she swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slips away to the ensuite bathroom, chin held high as Harry trails close behind.

********

Harry digs out a faded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his closet for Alani to borrow, and although it’s a small gesture, the sight of her in his own clothing fills his entire body with euphoria. He holds out a white t-shirt with the Volkswagen logo on it and a pair of grey sweatpants that she accepts gratefully. While she slips into his clothes, Harry puts on a pair of running shorts and a black hoodie with the image of Earth and the words “Spice World” on the front. Next, he digs through his drawers and produces a red bandana that is used to keep the damp hair out of his face, but Alani has already braided her wavy locks before he can find a similar garment for her. Harry extends a hand and Alani interlocks her fingers with his as they set out for breakfast.

“Why don’t you go pick out some tunes?” He suggests when they reach the kitchen. “There’s a record player in the living room,”

Alani wiggles her brows and gives him a quick peck before venturing out ito the other room. Her eyes immediately land on a wall full of vinyls, and she excitedly browses them with delicate fingers. The Zombies, Bill Withers, and Sam Cooke are among the first in the collection, but her eyes widen when she spots a familiar blue cover. Joni, she gasps, pulling the record out of its sleeve. Alani quickly switches the player on and navigates the needle over the first track on the disk, turning the volume up and filling the room with the sound of a folk guitar. Harry’s ears perk up in the other room and the music brings a wide grin to his face. A few moments later, Alani reemerges in the kitchen, her hips swaying; she reaches out for Harry’s hands, which are occupied with the switches on the stovetop and a carton of eggs. He puts it down and gives Alani a twirl, which elicits a playful giggle that tugs on his heartstrings. His hands settle around her waist while her arms weave around his neck. They sway for a moment, hips flush with one another, before another soft kiss is exchanged.

“Looks like I don’t need a ‘kiss the cook’ apron after all,” Harry jokes lightly, their noses still touching.

Alani rolls her eyes with a scoff. “You haven’t made anything yet,”

“That’s because a certain dancing queen keeps distracting me,”

“Fine,” she starts to pull away but Harry immediately ropes her back in.

“Not yet,” he smirks, lifting her with a quick spin. Alani shrieks and her arms tighten around his neck.

“I see the lovebirds are up,” Mitch grumbles, the heel of his hand rubbing his tired eyes.

The pair conceal their laughter and put a bit of space between each other, though Harry instantly misses Alani’s touch.

“Morning, Mitch,” she says sweetly.

The guitarist forces a smile on his face and reaches inside the fridge for a bottle of water. “Morning,” he returns, padding back to the hallway. “And keep it down, you crazy kids. Some of us are hungover and not in the lovesick way.”

Alani’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, mom.”

Harry snickers and he returns to the stove with a gentle shake of his head.

They scarf their breakfasts down with legs woven together under the table and fingers interlaced. While their meals are identical, they take turns feeding off of each other’s plates and stealing sips of the other person’s drink. Harry feigns annoyance over the spilt orange juice on the t-shirt that he lent to Alani, though a part of him hopes it will leave a stain as a subtle reminder of this moment. It amazes the both of them just how quickly they had fallen into a shared rhythm, as if breakfast was a sacred ritual engraved into their muscle memory. But despite the natural ease that comes with each other’s presence, there is an impending sense of dread looming over Alani and Harry’s heads about the inevitable end to their domestic bliss.

“I should probably get back soon,” she sighs, thinking of her younger sister waiting alone at the house.

His stomach turns. “Do you have to?”

“Afraid so. Need to check on Pua and Freddie,”

Harry nods with a small sigh and collects both of their plates. “‘Kay,”

Alani follows him into the kitchen and her arms delicately wrap around his torso from behind when they reach the sink. “Are you upset?” she asks timidly.

Harry’s heart cracks, racked with guilt over his petty behavior. It wasn’t her fault that she had to leave eventually, and it wasn’t right to take his disappointment out on her. He turns his back to their dishes and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose.

“No,” Harry assures her with a soft, dimpled smile. “Could never be upset with my sweet girl. Just gonna miss you.”

Alani’s chest stirs at his words and she slots her needy lips between his. Now that they had tasted a little less than twenty-four uninterrupted hours together, being apart for more than one moment seemed near impossible. Harry’s fingers slip inside the back of her shirt, and his nails gently graze the outline of her spine with a sly grin.

“I don’t think I’ll have what she’s having,” Jeff teases, sifting through a bowl of fruit on the counter. Harry grits his teeth and makes a mental note to plot revenge on all of his friends later.

“Good morning,” Alani offers shyly, pulling away from his warm touch.

Jeff smiles and waves with a banana in hand. “Buenos días. Always good to see you, Alani.”

“You too,”

He whistles a cheerful tune and roams into the living room, leaving the pair alone again.

“I think we better go before we get caught.” Alani jokes weakly.

********

The Range Rover pulls up slowly in front of Alani’s house and Harry’s grip on her hand tightens as he puts the car into park.

“Where’re your parents?” he wonders aloud, reaching in the backseat for a spare bag that Alani can use to carry her clothes in.

“Mom had a big surgery this weekend, so she stayed at the hospital to keep an eye on her patient. Dad is in California on this chef’s weekend trip with, like, Guy Fieri or something. Just me and Pua until tomorrow night,”

Harry hums, watching her stuff her belongings into the bag. “You working?”

“Yeah, I close tonight,”

Damn, he swears to himself. There go his plans. “What’re you doing until then?”

Alani shrugs with her hand already on the door handle. “Chores, I guess. You?”

“Probably nothing,” Harry sighs. “Missing you.”

She grins and presses an affectionate peck to his cheek. “Ditto, sunshine. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“I won’t miss it.” The new pet name makes his stomach twist, but the butterflies quickly turn to stones when she slips out of the car.

Alani begrudgingly treks down the stone pathway when she hears loud music coming from the car behind her. Turning quickly, she spots Harry peeking over the roof of the SUV with the song “Baby Don’t Go” by The Supremes blaring from his speakers. She shakes her head playfully and blows him a kiss before retreating back to her house; He catches it in his palm and presses his palm to his lips. The song is still playing softly when Alani closes the door and she momentarily considers throwing all caution to the wind by inviting him inside.

“I’d ask how your night went, but I think half the block knows that answer now,” Pua smirks with arms crossed as she descends the stairs.

Alani offers a sheepish smile and clutches Harry’s bag to her chest. “Morning,”

“Are those his clothes?” her sister questions.

“Yeah,”

“Okay that’s really sweet, actually,”

Alani shuffles through the house to make sure that everything is still in one piece and Pua follows close behind, anxious for all of the details about her older sister’s date. “So I wanna hear everything, but you can spare me the making out parts,” she insists.

“What? Harry didn’t give you the rundown already?” Alani pokes. “I’m assuming you’re the one who told him about Angelo’s,”

“It may have come up once—casually, of course,” Pua admits.

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but the confirmation that Harry had conspired with her sister melts her heart. “Well then, I guess I owe you some thanks for a perfect night,”

“It was all his idea,” Pua maintains with her hands raised in surrender. “But it was? I mean, really perfect?”

“Straight out of a movie,”

“He has that way about him, doesn’t he?”

Alani’s mouth curls gently. She couldn’t describe Harry’s allure better if she tried. “He really does,”

“I can’t believe it,” Pua muses with a starry look in her round eyes. “My sister is dating the Harry Styles. I can practically hear the millions of hearts shattering over the news,”

Out of all the thoughts running through Alani’s mind these days, the public’s response to her blossoming relationship with Harry was apparently last on that list. Fame hardly seemed to be the focal point of his life given how little he had to say on the subject, thus it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, a celebrity, especially when they were alone. But despite his reluctance to open up about stardom, it’s a conversation that Alani figures she should prepare for.

“Speaking of,” she begins, making her way upstairs. “What are his fans like? You know, what should I expect?”

Pua considers it for a moment, searching for the right words. “Passionate I guess. Loyal,”

“And they’re all in love with him?”

“Can you blame them?”

Alani chuckles lightly and her chest swells as she reflects on her growing feelings for Harry. While she had initially wanted to believe that he was no different from any other guy, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand by that judgement. His immense thoughtfulness was evident long before he had whisked her away for the evening of her dreams. Afterall, what famous person willingly agrees to help a stranger with their homework? And then there was Harry’s boyish charm and tenderness that no leading man in any romantic comedy seemed to rival in Alani’s opinion. Could never be upset with my sweet girl, his words echo.

“No,” Alani exhales, her throat tightening with a sudden sense of longing. “I really can’t,”

Pua squeals and envelops her sister in a warm embrace. “God, I’m really so happy for you both. My favorite singer and my favorite sister,”

Alani hugs her sister tight and it temporarily quells the ache left by Harry’s absence. “Me too.”

“But if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

********

“Hey Harry, what do you think about Maui?” Jeff proposes, typing into his phone. “The resort’s got a private pool for every room,”

Harry blinks with a faint smile still on his lips. “For what?”

“Next weekend, maybe. Glenne and Jenny are thinking of meeting us there,”

The thought of going an entire weekend away from Alani makes Harry’s brows furrow. He was going on just five hours now and it was complete torture.

“Can’t,” he says quickly. “I’ve got—”

“You can bring Alani,” Jeff reassures him with a knowing smirk. “But you two gotta promise you’ll socialize,”

Harry blushes and his chest aches at the sound of her name. “I’ll ask,”

“Don’t make me say it,” Mitch threatens from the sound booth. Harry’s head tilts, challenging his friend to continue. The drummer clears his throat and coughs into his closed fist. “Whipped,”

“You’re just jealous that your girlfriend couldn’t make the trip ‘cos she’s too busy being a badass rockstar,” Harry shoots back coolly.

“So we’re dropping the g-word, huh?”

The singer casts his eyes down at the guitar in his lap and fiddles with the strings to occupy his hands. “Dunno,”

“He’s got it bad,” Tom teases, turning to Jeff Bhasker with a dramatic outstretched hand. “Alani, my dearest, how could I ever live without you?”

“Oh, Harry.” Jeff raises his voice a pitch.

Tom drops to his knee, clutching Jeff’s hand to his chest, and the group erupts into laughter. “Say you’ll be mine at once!”

Harry relinquishes a shy smile and a dry laugh at his friends’ antics in an effort to be a good sport. “Very funny. Oscars for you both.”

His idle fingers continue strumming the guitar gently as everyone else dissolves into their own conversations. The phone balanced on his thigh pings, and though the notification has nothing to do with Alani, Harry decides to check in.

Harry: How’s the weather?

He can’t think of anything particularly witty to say, but the mere action of sending her a message keeps him from dissolving into a puddle on the floor.

Alani: Google is free, you know

Harry: Ouch. Trying to tell you that I miss you here :(

Alani giggles at Harry’s clingy show of affection. Truth be told, she also misses him deeply and resents the fact that she has to work instead of staying snuggled into his side all day. The smell of his shampoo lingers in her hair and it twists the knife deeper. She decides to snap a silly photo of herself, eyes crossed, and sends it off to him.

Alani: Missing you too, my little pocket of sunshine ☀️

Harry’s heart nearly bursts from his chest when he opens the attachment, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He quickly saves the photo to his phone before setting it as his lock screen.

Harry: My god you’re going to be the death of me

Alani: The feeling is mutual

It takes less than five minutes of admiring the photo for Harry to decide that he can’t go any longer without the real thing.

Harry: What time does your shift start?

Alani: 5 minutes

Swiping his wallet and keys, Harry slips out of the studio without another word.

********

Alani ties her hair up and adjusts her apron as she heads out into the busy restaurant. She quickly falls into a rhythm of taking orders, clearing tables, and filling drinks while the minutes in her eight hour shift tick by. Before she knows it, an hour has already passed and her mind is completely occupied with her guests, but a familiar voice sticks out among the buzz of it all.

“Excuse me, miss?” Harry pipes up from the counter, a bouquet of sunflowers emerging from behind his back. “Think these are for you,”

Alani fights back a smile, but it’s no use. She accepts the flowers gratefully and raises them to her nose.

“Why, thank you. They’re beautiful,”

“They’ve got nothing on you,” he suggests, leaning in closer over the counter. His eyes dart to her lips in silent prayer, but Alani clears her throat and scans the busy scene around them.

“Can I get you something?”

Harry peruses the menu with a serious dent between his brows. “Hmm sure, I think I’ll have the Chef’s Salad—dressing on the side—a lemonade, and a kiss,”

Alani smirks, accepting the menu from his hand. “The kiss is extra,”

“Make it two, then,” he offers expectantly, but she shakes her head in disapproval.

“Kissing the waitresses isn’t allowed,”

“Well what if I don’t wanna kiss a waitress?” Harry counters. “What if I wanna kiss my…”

He intentionally trails off to read Alani’s reaction, but she suddenly feels flustered by the implications of his statement and turns on her heel to put in his order. “I’ll go get your lemonade.”

“Alaniii.” he complains, watching her back away. She shoots him a wink over her shoulder and darts into the kitchen to avoid his further protests.

The afternoon rush gradually subsides after another hour of Alani racing around the restaurant. Eventually, as she heads back to the counter to refill two iced teas, Harry catches her attention again and holds up his own glass. “I think something was missing in my lemonade,”

She frowns. “What was it?”

“Some sugar,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “Have any to spare?”

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but before she can quip back with something clever, one of her co-workers calls her to the kitchen. Harry slumps in his seat and picks at an olive on his plate.

Two more hours go by and he silently watches Alani dart from table to table, hunched over a journal splayed in front of him. Alani’s eyes repeatedly linger in his direction as the night winds down and she knows without a shadow of doubt that more of his antics await, but she can’t resist wandering over to indulge his advances and her own curiosity.

“Whatcha working on?” she questions with a quick glance at the page in front of him.

Harry beams, shutting the book and leaning against the counter on his elbows. “More pick-up lines,”

“I admire your tenacity,” Alani chuckles lightly. “How long are you gonna stick around here?”

“How long you got left?”

“Three hours,”

“Then I’ll have another lemonade.” he says with a flash of his infectious smile.

Alani swipes his nearly empty cup, but before she retreats to fill it again, her head lowers to his level and she plants a chaste kiss to his eager lips. “Didn’t wanna forget your sugar this time.”

Families come and go and tables are cleared as the sun disappears into the horizon. By the last hour of Alani’s shift, the restaurant is practically dead save for Harry, who eventually migrated from his perch at the counter to a more comfortable booth in the corner. The sight of Alani rolling out her shoulders across the room steals his attention away from his scribbles, so he stands and makes his way over. When his warm fingertips meet her tense muscles, she immediately sinks into the touch.

“That better?” Harry murmurs, feeling her gradually relax as he works the knots at the base of her neck and shoulders.

“Yeah,” Alani hums. The relief is instant just like it always is when he’s around. After a moment, she reaches up to where his fingers are pressed against her skin and she spins so they’re standing chest to chest, hands clasped.

“Hi,” she greets softly.

“Hiya,”

“I can’t believe you stayed here all day,”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s better than being at the house missing you. Besides, I got some work done, too, so I’d say it was a success overall,”

The edges of Alani’s mouth turn up and she pulls away slightly with their hands still attached. “Oh yeah? So are you finished with that book of pick-up lines, then?”

“Almost,” Harry laughs airily. “Think it might even be a New York Times Best Seller,”

“Maybe ditch the ‘have any spare sugar?’ one. It’s a bit saccharine, don’t you think?”

“Dunno, that one worked pretty well, if my lips remember correctly.”

The corners of Alani’s mouth curl and she pulls away with their hands still attached. “Want some pie?”

“What kind?”

“Cherry,” she says, making her way over to the dessert bar.

“The best kind,” Harry replies, taking his seat.

Alani cuts out a generous portion and serves it to him. “I’m more of an apple pie girl,”

“A la mode?”

“Definitely,”

“You know,” Harry starts, cutting out a slice with his fork. “I used to work in a bakery,”

“Is that so?” she indulges him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the counter.

“Oh yeah. I’m a natural baker, it’s what they all used to say,”

“You’re gonna have to prove it one of these days,”

“Maybe I will,”

Alani rests her chin in her hand and watches Harry finish the rest of his pie, a content glimmer in his eyes. It’s ten minutes to closing time, so she wipes down the counter and starts the routine that she knows all too well. Harry sneaks off to the jukebox and sifts through the selections available, his tongue peeking through the corner of his lips when his eyes land on the perfect song. A gentle piano wafts through the restaurant followed by Diana Ross’ vocals singing a cover of “Bring it On Home to Me.” Alani hums the familiar tune and continues cleaning up before she feels an arm slink around her waist. She stops her work and turns around to face Harry who is singing the lyrics softly.

“Bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me,”

Alani turns slowly to face him and she watches his strawberry lips carefully, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever heard him sing in person. His voice is low and smooth with just the right amount of grit behind it. She savors the sound, wondering what he would sound like performing his own lyrics before her memory recalls the image of him stooped over his notebook, scribbling something secret. The pair begin to sway gently, Harry still singing as he pulls Alani closer. He slips one hand to hers and lifts it so they’re in the starting position of a waltz. She slips an arm around his neck and her head meets his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his voice against her temple. For the remainder of the song, everything ceases to exist but the two of them: two hearts beating against each other—beating for each other. Harry dips Alani gingerly as the melody begins to fade out and she cranes her neck just enough to grant him another tender kiss. Her lips feel like the first sip of water after a long journey through the desert, and he knows that he will never get enough as he pours every ounce of adoration and longing that he can possibly muster into the kiss. Slowly, he brings her back to standing with their lips still attached before pulling away to catch his breath.

“I’ve never heard you sing.” Alani murmurs with her heart still racing. “Not like that,”

“I’ve never sung like that before,” he confesses, referring to the emotion behind the lyrics. “Guess I never really had a reason to.”

Alani’s breath hitches. Once again, she finds herself toeing the line between reality and fantasy. It often felt like he was too good to be true and this moment is no exception, but the delicate brush of his fingertips against her arm coaxes her back to the present—and very real— moment. Alani hugs him to her chest to feel the fierce beating of her heart and the drum of her own love song.

********

“Did that sound weird?”

“Sounded fine to me,”

Harry chews on his lower lip, eyes pinched shut as he locates the correct pitch in his head. “No, it sounded weird. Let’s go again,”

“You got it,” Tom says over the sound system that floods into the recording booth. “Take two of Harry’s untitled thing, rolling,”

“That’s not what we’re calling it on the tape, is it?”

“We are until you title it,”

Harry releases an amused breath. “Fair enough. Let’s just call it…” he hums and a faint smile creeps across his lips. “Let’s call it Clair de Lune for now.”

Tom scoffs. “Okay Debussy. Take two on Clair de Lune.”

“What does that mean?” Jeff asks, adjusting the levels on the soundboard.

“It’s French for ‘moonlight,’” Mitch declares. “According to Google Translate.”

Alani peeks inside the back entrance of the dimly lit studio and immediately hears a faint chorus of laughter. She cautiously steps inside and follows the sound down a narrow corridor, treading lightly to go unnoticed. The familiar gaggle of voices grows louder as she reaches the end of the hall and up to the door of the sound booth left slightly ajar. Her head pops in first, index finger raised to her lips, and Jeff silently beckons her inside while Harry and Tom go back and forth over the sound system.

“It’s fine—”

“—It’s not fine, it’s missing something.”

“So go again, but maybe try head voice instead of falsetto this time.”

Alani observes the scene with her back pressed firmly against the door to remain out of Harry’s sight. His presence at the café earlier in the week had been such a pleasant part of her day that she decided it was her turn to surprise him and show support for his work, which would undoubtedly be more interesting than watching her serve food for hours on end. The impromptu day off cost her a week of doing Pua’s laundry, but it was worth the chance of becoming a fly on the wall in the studio before eventually stealing Harry away for a few hours.

“I think I wanna do a harmony for this bit,” he says finally after a minute of playful bickering with Tom. “Can you send Mitchell in?”

The guitarist flashes two thumbs up through the window and stands, but he makes his way over to Alani, instead, and prompts her to go in his place with a conspiratorial wink. She slips inside the recording booth and Harry casually glances up from his notes, doing a double take and grinning wide when he realizes that it’s her.

“Sweets,” he beams, hanging up his headphones to scoop her into a tight embrace.

Alani’s feet hover a few inches from the floor and she giggles into the crook of his neck. “Hi, sunshine,”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“Just wanted to see you,” she admits, pulling away to relish in his dimples and bright eyes. “Well alright, maybe I also planned to kidnap you at some point, too, if that’s okay,”

Harry laughs and plants a kiss to her cheek. “Course it’s okay. Was just about to take a break and head your way, but you beat me to it,”

“Perfect,” Alani smirks. “So I’ll just wait for you to finish up here and then we can head out,”

The singer shakes his head before taking her hand and stepping over to the microphone.

“That’s a wrap for the day. Great work everyone,”

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists. “I can wait—”

“—Well I can’t. I’m dying to see where you’re whisking me off to.” Harry quips back, already escorting her out of the booth with a jaunty spring in his step.

********

“You can open your eyes now,” Alani bids after putting Stevie into park.

“Finally,” Harry huffs teasingly. “Missed your face,”

They share a lighthearted kiss before Alani nods to the passenger side window. “Aren’t you curious to know where I dragged you to?”

Harry’s head turns, a cheshire grin spreading across his lips as he catches a glimpse of the sign that reads ‘Akaka Falls State Park. “Hey! Déjà vu,”

“My reason for bringing you here is twofold,” Alani explains, reaching into the backseat for the supplies she had brought along. “I know you’ve been in kind of a writer's rut lately, so I figured some proximity to the falls might help. But I also thought that maybe you could flex your painting skills, too,”

A tote bag full of fresh paint, canvas, and brushes materializes onto the middle console between them and Harry’s eyes light up. He gleefully sifts through the materials before looking back at Alani with a tender expression. “Alani, this is amazing,”

“I want you to draw me like one of your french girls,” she jokes with batted lashes. “Sorry, I’ve been sitting on that one since yesterday,”

Harry’s eyes crinkle with unbridled laughter. “You’re the best,”

“You get me,”

“Well what are we waiting for?” he questions, stepping out of the car and into the fresh air. “We’ve got some masterpieces to create,”

Alani meets him at the hood, and her arm slings across his back as his rests around her shoulders. “Full disclosure: I’m terrible at arts and crafts. I think I was the only ten year old who flunked art class,”

“Nah, I don’t believe it,”

“It’s true!”

“But you’re good at everything,” Harry reasons. “Maybe you’re just one of those artists who weren’t appreciated in their own time.”

Alani scoffs, her gaze occupied with the way their steps fall into sync. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

They venture down the same route as their very first trip to the falls, though this time joined at the hip. The cerulean sky overhead and high summer sun provides the ideal subject for landscape paintings, and though dozens of tourists have also gathered to enjoy the perfect day, Alani and Harry are oblivious to everyone else. His cheeks flush with self-consciousness when she casually mentions the song that she had overheard him working on earlier, and he simply rubs the back of his neck and feigns ignorance when she asks what it’s about. It had always wracked his nerves to let other people hear his music before it was completely finished, but the fact that his current work-in-progress was heavily inspired by Alani only makes him that much more reluctant to share. While her curiosity begs to her to keep prying, she shrugs it off and refocuses on the lush scene before them as they reach Harry’s favorite lookout spot.

“What’re you gonna paint?” he asks, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he picks out his supplies.

“I don’t know,” Alani ponders. “What about you?”

“Something good—hopefully,”

“Have you ever painted before?”

Harry’s eyes lift to the sky, as if searching the clouds for his answer. “Sure. Loved art class when I was in school. It’s a good way to de-stress,”

“Have any favorite artists?”

“Keith Haring’s pretty great, saw some of his stuff in New York City last time I was there,”

“Oh yeah, he’s incredible,” Alani agrees, mixing some paint on her platter. “Hey, have you ever been to the Louvre?”

Harry nods and the tip of his tongue peeks through the corner of his lip in concentration. “Yes actually, once,”

“Lucky. Paris is definitely on my bucket list,”

“Good to know,” her comment is stored in the back of Harry’s mind for future reference. “Hey sweets, you’ve got something on your face,”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, riiiiight,” Harry leans in, silently dipping his pinky in a dollop of pink paint before pulling back and smearing it across the bridge of her nose. “There,”

“Hey!” she cries.

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t know how you didn’t see that one coming,”

“You are such a child,”

“It’s fun, you should try it,”

Alani’s lower lip pouts. “Don’t wanna,”

“Sure you do,” Harry insists, holding out his plate of colors to her. “Go ahead,”

She releases a sharp breath and turns her back to him, strategically dipping her fingers in her own palette out of his sight.

“Sweets,” Harry coos. “Alani, hey, I’m sorry. That was a stupid—”

Her fingertips meet the side of his face and slide down to his chin, leaving a trail of yellow, orange, and blue. “Oh, sorry. What were you about to say?”

Harry’s mouth hangs agape and he blinks slowly. “You know what, I’ll let that one slide,”

“No you won’t.”

“No I won’t.”

Alani springs up from the bench and turns to bolt, but Harry’s arms snake around her waist and lift her in the air with one swift move. She shrieks, but she doesn’t fight his grasp and turns to face him instead, offering her puckered lips in surrender. Harry slots their mouths together with a satisfied smirk, but the spirited kiss quickly dissolves into laughter when their teeth collide.

********

Alani flips her bedroom light on and ushers Harry inside. “Sorry about the mess,”

He steps inside and absorbs every detail, taking note of all the photos and trinkets on display. The walls are a shade of blush, which doesn’t surprise him, and the bed is tucked neatly in the corner under a skylight. String lights dangle along one wall above a desk piled high with books and magazines. A hanging plant in another corner catches his attention, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the presence of her own record player and collection of vinyls. A red, heart shaped rug in the middle of the room ties it all together, and Harry doesn’t think that it could possibly be more Alani. She plops onto the bed with her completed artwork and motions for him to do the same. When he makes himself comfortable, she turns the canvas over with a wiggle of her brows.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Harry applauds, admiring the blobs of colorful shapes that somehow coalesce into a perfectly admirable—yet unidentifiable—piece of art. “What is it?”

“It’s you!”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” she begins, sitting up straighter to explain. “I really tried to go for the Keith Haring thing, but I added a little bit of my own touch to it. And there’s me too, see? The pink one in the back. And that’s supposed to be a palm tree but it looks kinda like a dude with green hair,”

Harry’s heart soars. “You made us into a Keith Haring?”

“I know it’s not as cool as what he would’ve done, but—”

“—It’s perfect,” he asserts. “I love it,”

Alani beams and she sits back on her heels, setting the painting against her nightstand. “Your turn,”

“Alright, well,” Harry clears his throat. “I also tried to emulate your favorite artist, so hopefully you’ll like it,”

He turns the painting over and a light gasp escapes Alani’s lips. She immediately recognizes the waterfall—the same one from ‘Akaka Falls that they had visited together twice now. Alani had had the slightest inkling that Harry was being modest about his artistic abilities, but she hadn’t quite anticipated this level of skill.

“Harry,” she starts, breathless. “I don’t even know what to say. This is incredible,”

“It’s no Georgia O'Keeffe, but I did my best,” he offers sheepishly.

Alani shakes her head with a small laugh. “I kind of hate you for saying that. It’s gorgeous. Blows my stupid kiddie craft out of the water,”

“Hey,” Harry tuts. “I love your painting, it’s so creative,”

“Yeah, well, yours is infinitely better and I love everything about it,” Alani states matter-of-factly, admiring each brushstroke and use of color. “So would it be okay if I—I mean… can I keep it?”

“Course you can, made it for you,”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits shyly. “It’s kinda like our spot, you know?”

A wide grin splits across Alani’s lips and she slinks her arms around his neck to bring him closer. “Yeah, I guess it is,”

“And the lookout where we saw that rainbow and had our first kiss,”

“Right,”

“Maybe even the café,”

“The whole island,” Alani hums. “And the sun, and the moon, and the stars,”

Harry smiles softly. “The sun and the moon, eh Mahealani?”

“Funny how life works out like that, isn’t it sunshine?”

next chapter

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #harry styles #ybmh #sorry for the delay blame tumblr!!!

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elvendara · 4 years ago

Text

Sugar and Spice Day 3

July 14th

Rock concert (Rockstar/Fan)

“Five minutes till curtains up!” the man ran backstage shouting over the din. Saeran expected a knock on his door shortly and sure enough, it came. Without waiting for an answer, the man opened the door to let him know the time limit. Saeran locked eyes with him through the mirror and nodded.

Once the door was again closed, he stared at himself. He’d long ago bleached his hair white to differentiate himself from his twin. Saeyoung worked in the shadows, it wouldn’t do to have a famous brother who looked exactly like him. He also utilized colored lenses. It served two purposes, he didn’t need to wear glasses, in fact, his fans didn’t even know he needed them, and the mint green was a stark contrast to his regular, amber-colored eyes. The pink tips were a more recent addition, but he liked them.

Black eyeliner was expertly applied, years of practice making it almost effortless. He took a sponge and smudged it, giving himself that perfect edgy look. The earrings were already in, silver crosses dangling on each side of his face. Ironic really, considering he didn’t believe in God. The thick black silver studded collar was snuggly around his neck as was the matching cuff around his right wrist. He stood and grabbed his leather jacket, sliding it on and glancing into the full-length mirror he had been given in his dressing room. He was comfortable in this persona. The music had been a way for him to deal with his life. Writing down his anger, confusion, and loneliness was a way to get it out of him. It became bigger than him pretty quickly and he found that hiding behind rock stardom meant he didn’t have to answer any real questions about his true self. It worked. Except it kept him lonely and alone. He’d come to terms with spending the rest of his life that way. It was easier than imagining being real with someone. Who could ever love the real him anyway?

He smirked at his reflection as he laced up his biker boots. Time to bring the house down!

He was soaked in sweat but didn’t feel tired. In fact, he felt invigorated, like every time he finished a concert. Feeding off the audience was one of the biggest perks to his career. Someone handed him a towel and he wiped his face with it.

“Great show Saeran!” one of the concert coordinators told him. She held a tablet to her chest and had a handful of fans behind her. Five doe eyed girls and one shy looking boy. Well, now that he looked closer, he was definitely a man, close to his own age. He looked sheepish being with the teenaged groupies. “These are the VIP’s for tonight’s afterparty. Thought I’d introduce you before you change.”

“Nice! Great to meet you, I’m glad we’ll be hanging out tonight. Hope you have a good time. Congrats on winning the backstage passes.” He regurgitated. There wasn’t always an afterparty but there were some special guests, rich, who had paid for the whole thing, so he’d been pressed to oblige them with an appearance. He hated the politics of being famous, but he did love his fans. It was because of them that he could enjoy what he did. If it was up to him, he’d fill the party with fans and not rich entitled groupies. He knew he would spend the night fending off offers to ‘get to know each other better’ all night.

“Oh my GOD! It’s really you!”

“Wow! You’re so HOT!”

“Ahhh, my friends are never gonna believe this!”

The girls were just cookie cutter versions of every other girl he’d seen. He couldn’t blame them; it’s how they sold his image. The man looked embarrassed; he wouldn’t even look him in the eye. He took the chance to check him out. He appeared to be a tad shorter than himself, with blond hair and pink clips holding back his bangs. He wore one of his concert shirts and tight-fitting skinny jeans. His nails were painted alternating pink and black with the black ones having his band’s logo on it, a mint green eye. So he really was a fan. Cute too.

“Uh, well, like the lady said, I have to go get changed for the party, I’ll see you all there. And be sure to grab your swag bags before you leave, don’t let them rip you off there! There’s a CD with a snippet of some of our new songs.” He winked and walked off. There was a lot of oohing and ahhing as he left.

He took a quick shower and dressed in a ripped black T-shirt, black jeans and his biker boots, putting all his accessories back on and reapplying his eyeliner. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked out to the convention center next to the arena. Of course he wasn’t alone, he had security that surrounded him and paparazzi snapping pics as he made his way to the party. They screamed questions at him that he didn’t answer, he smirked, the signature look the media had come to know him by. Surrounded by so many yet feeling so alone. Making it next door took longer than it should have because of the circus around him, but make it he did.

Once he was inside he was taken by the arm by the coordinator who had introduced him to the fans, he couldn’t remember her name but she seemed nice enough. At least she didn’t flirt with him like other women did and took her job seriously.

“You’re here, great, first you should go say hi to the Han family, they’re the ones footing the bill for this afterparty, then you can have a few minutes with the fans before talking to some reporters…”

“Whoah.” He stopped in his tracks and could swear she left skid marks with her heels she’d been going so fast. “I want more than just a few minutes with those fans, and who are all these people anyway?” He saw his bandmates and some of the roadies, but everyone else was a stranger.

“Nobody you need to worry about, uh, I’ll see what I can do with the schedule.” She seemed frazzled but clicked away on her tablet while heading off again. He assumed he should follow, so he did.

“Mr. Han, I appreciate you taking the time and effort for this function.” Saeran greeted the elderly man.

“Ah, of course of course, anything for my new bride!” he had his arm around a young woman who was clearly less than half his age. The rumors about C&R’s head were obviously true. Standing on his other side was a tall and elegant man who appeared to wish he was anywhere but here. He’d seen that face plastered on magazines of all sorts. The heir apparent, Director of C&R, Jumin Han. They nodded respectfully at each other, Saeran feeling sorry for the man and having to deal with his father’s escapades, but the old man seemed like a descent sort. After a few minutes of his ‘wife’ fawning all over him, making him feel uncomfortable, the coordinator pulled him away. He was thankful to her for saving him.

She escorted him towards a section in the back, past all the dancing and the loud music, that was closed off. The music was still loud but at least he could hear himself think. In the section the fans sat, eating and drinking snacks on the coffee table. They all stood up and rushed him. Well, the girls did, touching him and giggling. Where were their parents? They didn’t look old enough to be out. They sat him down and pressed against him. The blond man sat to the side in a chair and continued to sip his cola and eat the snacks, sneaking a look now and then. He wished he could just be alone with him and have a conversation. At least he wouldn’t try to crawl on his lap like these girls seemed to want to do. Well, maybe he wouldn’t mind if the blond tried that.

After about 30 minutes, which felt like a lifetime, the coordinator gathered up the girls and took them out. It was past midnight and he guessed he had been right about their age, couldn’t have minors out at all hours of the night. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It felt like they had leached some of his life force out and he was drained.

“I guess that happens all the time to you huh?”

Saeran sat up abruptly, how could he have forgotten about the blond?

“Sorry, I’ll go if you want to be alone.” He stood and Saeran panicked.

“NO!” he stood, banging his knee on the coffee table, sending him on his ass back on the sofa. He grabbed at the knee, eyes scrunched, “Ow ow ow…”

“Let me see.” Suddenly there was a presence by him as the blond sat beside him, his fingers touching his knee. Because of the ripped jeans, it was easy to see his skin in that area. “Doesn’t look so bad, at least you didn’t break the skin. You’ll have a hell of a bruise though.” The blond raised his gaze to Saeran and he finally got to see the full view. Wow, those eyes knocked him out, was that color even natural? Maybe he was wearing amethyst-colored lenses like what he himself wore. His face was kind, a soft pink flush growing across his cheeks and bridge of his nose. It was adorable.

“Ah, that was really stupid of me. But…I’m glad you didn’t leave. We didn’t even get a chance to chat.” Saeran tried to regain his coolness but found he couldn’t seem to be bothered to try and act in front of this man. “Uh, what’s your name?”

“Yoosung. Don’t have to ask yours I guess.” He smiled, lighting up the entire room.

“Yoosung…I like it.”

“Thanks. I…uh…like you. I mean…I…your music…I…I…like your music…and…uh…I”

Saeran laughed and waved off Yoosung’s explanation.

“So you’re a fan huh? And what…a doctor?” he asked, placing his foot on the ground gently, still rubbing his knee.

“Not quite. But I am going to medical school. And yes, a BIG fan!” his eyes got large, as did his smile. “Your songs spoke to me when I was at a really low point. I don’t know, it felt like you knew what I was going through and understood my pain.” The smile faltered as his thoughts went back to those days. Saeran reached out and placed his hand on Yoosung’s, yes, he knew what it was like to be in pain, he could see it in his eyes.

Their eyes met, an understanding passing between them.

#my posts #fic #Yooran #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #mysme #mystic messenger #Sugar and Spice #Day 3 #July 14th #OK #I know these are supposed to be Saeran as Spice #but damn if he isn't the sweetest baby boi!#He just wants to be loved!

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 24

February 29th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was laying in her bed looking at her phone.

A special Blueprint had been uploaded to the Leafs’ official YouTube page and their official website titled “Family Birthdays”. Filmed perfectly. Cut perfectly. Produced perfectly. It was only two minutes long and featured all the guys. But the main feature was her.

The video began as Sheldon’s speech did, except the camera wasn’t on him – it was on Brendan and Aberdeen watching him intently. When he called out Jason’s name and Jason walked in with the cake, Aberdeen watched her own face drop and change and contort. The camera cut to some of the guys singing – Willy and Tyson and Auston, then Zach, then Travis – and then back to her once they began cheering. Brendan started his speech. The camera cut to some more players. Then it showed her speech. The last thirty seconds of the video featured snippets of afterwards – the music playing and the guys dancing, most of them with cake in their hands; Auston shoving a giant piece of it into his mouth; Tyson grabbing Aberdeen and dancing with her to the more upbeat song like they were in the 1950s and at a party. The closing clip was one of Aberdeen smiling from ear to ear, then one of Brendan smiling from ear to ear too as he stared directly at her. The Blueprint logo came up on the screen. It was over.

Aberdeen had never appeared prominently in a video from the Leafs before. She was in the background of some of the Blueprints, usually always with Brendan and once with Kyle and Peter, but she was mostly anonymous. Now, with this video, she was known: she was named, shown, shown dancing, and it was clearly evident she’d been with the organization for a while and that the team loved her. To anybody watching, she seemed ingrained within the institution that was the Toronto Maple Leafs. The fans seemed to love it – the team had won the game, after all, and had a successful Florida road trip because they also won against Florida on Thursday 5-3. The fans thought it was cute. She thought it was cute, too, but wondered now if people, especially people throughout the NHL, would actually recognize her instead of just walking by and ignoring her unless she stood beside Brendan.

Regardless, she went about her morning routine – washing her face, brushing her teeth, doing her hair, putting her moisturizer on. She fed Minerva and applied her makeup. It was a Hockey Night in Canada tonight against the Vancouver Canucks, but Brendan was letting her leave after the first period for her birthday party. A bunch of friends were coming over for pre-drink before they left for Toybox, the nightclub where she’d be having the party (everyone she knew and loved would be there except for Siena, who couldn’t come because of school). There would be at least twenty of them. They’d all pitched in to get a table and bottle service. It would all be very fun, and considering Aberdeen’s clubbing days would probably come to an end soon (serious job, serious boyfriend, serious ambition to be a writer), she wanted it to be very fun.

Lou was taking Brendan to a dentist appointment that morning, so Aberdeen was planning to just walk to work herself. She could get in a little later than usual – around 9:45 or 10 – since Brendan wasn’t going to be in either. So she took her time. She made herself breakfast. She turned on the news. She cuddled with Minerva. She admired the birthday gift that arrived from Willy last night when she got home from work – he had somehow managed to track down and buy a first edition copy (literally a la 1895) of The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde, her favourite play. He did good. He did damn good. Between the ring at Christmas and this, Aberdeen couldn’t believe he did that good.

She took out her phone.

Hope you have a good practice this morning ❤️

thank u minskatt

Are you still in bed lol

love u and yes lol

love you too

don’t judge me

After a while, with time going faster than she liked, Aberdeen put on her coat, hat, scarf, and boots and made her way downstairs. When she opened the doors of her building, she noticed a guy in a grey Canada Goose jacket and a tan messenger bag smoking almost right outside the door. She’d never seen him before. It was entirely plausible that he lived in the building, but he wouldn’t have come down to have a smoke. She figured he was probably waiting for someone, and went on her merry way.

As she walked down the street, she texted on her phone and made sure to avoid any ice on the sidewalk. The cold air gave way for a quiet morning – there weren’t a lot of people out walking. It was also because it was later than usual morning “rush hour”. From behind her, she heard someone cough extremely loudly – one of those loud smoker’s coughs that could be heard from a mile away. She looked behind her.

It was the guy from outside her building.

She felt a shiver run up her spine, and it wasn’t from the cold. Okay. Maybe she should give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he had finished his cigarette and was walking the same way she was to his work. Maybe they had the same route.

Maybe she should take a detour, just in case.

She turned a corner. It was technically the wrong way – well, not a wrong way, but it was less direct and a route that made her commute maybe five minutes longer than usual. She waited about a minute before looking back again. He turned the corner too. She felt the shiver run up her spine again.

She turned another wrong corner onto Wellington Street. Waited a few moments. Looked back.

There he was.

She felt her heart beat increase rapidly. She was being followed. She was being followed. She was freaking out. She had no idea who this guy was, what he wanted from her, nothing. She had no clue. She increased her pace and looked for a storefront amidst all the bank buildings, and she thanked the Lord when she saw a Starbucks. She climbed the steps and went inside. It was pretty busy, but not busy enough that she’d be lost within the crowd. She waited to see whether the man would just walk by or stop.

He stopped in front and lit another cigarette.

She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She tried to steady her breathing as much as possible as she took out her phone and called the one number she thought to call.

“Minskaaaaaatt, what are you—”

“—Willy?” Aberdeen asked frantically into the phone.

William noticed her tone immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Willy I think someone’s following me.”

“Following you?” his tone was dead serious.

She arched her neck to look out the window and saw the guy was still there, pretending to type away on his phone. “I—I left my apartment this morning, and I noticed this guy standing outside with a messenger bag smoking and—and I didn’t think much of it, but then I started walking down the street, and he started following me. And so I started to walk down a different route to work just in case but he—he kept following, and now I’m in the Starbucks at York and Wellington and he’s standing outside pretending to be on the phone but he’s waiting for me and—”

“Stay right there. I’m going to come get you.”

As if her heart wasn’t already beating rapidly out of fear, now the pace increased tenfold. She’d called him because he was her boyfriend, because he was the first person she thought to call, but now she realized how much of a grave mistake that was. “No – no – Willy, you can’t. Brendan will know and—”

“Stay there and don’t leave.”

“Willy—no, Willy—” she tried, but he had already hung up the phone. She couldn’t think straight. She was freaking out, and not just because she was getting stalked by someone. She should have called Brendan first. Or Jason, or—

Well, she could text them. She pulled up Brendan’s number first. She hoped he’d see it before Willy could do anything. I’m at York and Wellington Starbucks. I am being followed by someone. Can you please come and pick me up? She pulled up Jason’s number, too. I’m at York and Wellington Starbucks. I am being followed from my apartment. Please get someone to help me.

As she waited, nobody texted her back. She started to become nervous. She even sent a few more texts to Willy about getting someone to help him and calling Brendan to help deal with it but he wasn’t responding, and it just made her more nervous. Jason – never one to leave her on read, even for the simplest of messages – hadn’t responded. She wondered if he was already driving to practice. Or with Jen. Or with his girls. Or at their school. Or—

The man still wasn’t leaving.

Aberdeen gulped. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t stay in this Starbucks forever even though it seemed this guy would wait that long. If she left and continued her walk to work, should she acknowledge him? Should she ignore him? Should she call him out for following her? And besides, how in the everlasting fuck did he know where she lived?! She felt a pit forming in her stomach.

But she went outside anyway. Before she did, she started a video on her phone. As she pushed open the doors from the Starbucks, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he saw her and locked his phone. As she walked by him, he kept it in his hand. She began to walk away, down the steps and onto the sidewalk, and she pretended to adjust her hair in her hat. She saw he’d taken a step forward. Her heart was racing, but she stopped walking. She turned towards him boldly, cradling her phone against her chest so it wouldn’t seem like she was recording him.

When he noticed that he’d been caught, a smile adorned his face. It was probably nice in everyday life, but considering the circumstances, it was the creepiest thing Aberdeen had ever seen. “Hey,” he greeted her with a friendly, pleasant voice. “You know, I saw you in that Blueprint video where the Leafs bought you that birthday cake – you’re Aberdeen Bloom, aren’t you? Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant?” the man asked.

Aberdeen found it extremely weird that this man knew her last name. “How do you know where I live?” she demanded.

“I just overheard the guys talking about it one night and made an educated guess,” he shrugged his shoulders, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It made Aberdeen’s blood run cold. “You must recognize me from the media scrums. I was wondering if you’d like to answer a few questions for me.”

She didn’t recognize him from the media scrums, although she was sure he was there. Having probably exhausted his good rapport with the players due to his actions (if they were anything like this), the next best thing for him was to terrorize her. “No. I don’t speak to the media. You need to go through—”

Suddenly, a car pulled up to the curb, the tires shrieking against the pavement. Another car followed just as quickly, shrieking against the pavement as it also grinded to a halt. From the second car, William barely waited for it to stop before he got out of the passenger’s seat. Jason followed him from the driver’s seat. “Get in the car,” William said firmly, not even looking at her.

She noticed Brendan get out of the backseat of the first car, and came to the realization that it was the town car – Lou was driving, waving at her to get in. “Aberdeen, get in the car,” he echoed William’s sentiments. “I’ll deal with this.”

She ran towards the town car, opening the door quickly and stuffing herself into the backseat. She stopped the video on her phone as she watched through the window as Brendan approached the man, who had his hands up and was shaking his head like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “Are you okay, Miss Bloom?” Lou asked from the front seat.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Just a bit spooked.”

“Mr. Shanahan freaked out when he got your text. Almost had a heart attack, I think.”

Aberdeen nodded absent-mindedly, still watching through the window as Brendan looked like he was berating the man. William looked exactly like he did the night she got hit by the glass – so angry but unable to formulate words – and she couldn’t tell if the redness on his cheeks was due to the cold or his anger. Jason looked equally as angry, his head moving between Brendan and the man like he was watching Djokovic verses Federer. When Brendan, William, and Jason dispersed back towards the cars, the man who had followed her was calling out towards Brendan in objection. Brendan ignored him, and so did William and Jason. He kept screaming, and Brendan kept ignoring.

Aberdeen watched through the side mirrors as William and Jason got back in their car. Brendan opened the backseat door and she turned her head to look at him as slipped in. Lou began driving the second the door was closed. “When did you notice him following you?” Brendan asked immediately.

“He was outside my building,” she revealed.

“Outside your building?!” he demanded. He pulled out his phone. “I—I’m calling Steve. No media availability for practice. None.”

“Brendan—”

“This motherfucker,” he seethed, ignoring Aberdeen’s voice. “This motherfucker is never getting into our locker room again.”

“Brendan, I don’t care about the locker room,” Aberdeen chastised him. “He knows where I live!”

“I already called the police. They’re meeting us at practice,” he revealed. “I already told them we’re drafting up a peace bond. And if that fucker even thinks about contesting it, I’ll be out for blood.”

Aberdeen was trying to make sense of what he was saying, but it wasn’t registering in her head. She’d heard Siena talk about peace bonds before in relation to something she was learning in law school, but Aberdeen couldn’t connect the dots right now. “What—what’s a peace bond?” she asked.

“It’s essentially a restraining order,” he explained. “Some of the players actually have them for some people or fans but we’re not going to get into that right now. All you need to know is that he won’t be able to be anywhere near you, your apartment, work, nothing. I’ll push for an entire kilometre away from you. I don’t care if the fucker has to move. He won’t get anywhere near you ever again.”

Aberdeen calmed down considerably as Brendan spoke, though she was still on edge. “We…we can do that?”

“Yes. It’s the—fuck!—it’s the same old story with some of these fucking clowns. Can’t get what they want in the locker room so they go after office stuff and see which one breaks first. It’s never enough – whatever we give them is never enough. All for some inside scoop.”

Aberdeen saw how angry Brendan was about this. It was like the Ethan situation all over again. It was different in that, with Ethan, Brendan was calm but she could see the rage inside of him. Now, she saw the rage both inside and outside. “I just want to make sure I’ll never have to see him again,” Aberdeen said.

“You won’t,” Brendan seethed. “I’ll make sure of it.”

***

Aberdeen didn’t exactly like talking to cops – she didn’t think anyone did – but there were two waiting at practice when she and Brendan got there. They waited for William and Jason to get there, and once they arrived, they all went into a private room to give statements. Aberdeen showed the cops the video she took. It played at least seven different times, and each time, she watched William across the table getting redder and redder. Except this time, he was more vocal. “Is it possible we can do more than just a peace order? I mean can’t we press charges?” “This guy is an obvious threat to the team’s safety if he’s approaching office staff to try to get exclusives on us.” It was all very…clinical. She didn’t know the word to describe it. But Brendan was adamant on the conditions of the peace order, and was adamant that they go even a step further than what some of the guys had because she was a young female. What surprised her the most was when Brendan called up the guy – literally right from his phone – and the cops read out the peace bond. This was still in front of William and Jason. The guy fought back a little bit but Brendan was having none of it and threatened him with court. The guy had no chance but to accept the conditions of the peace order. He agreed to sign it. He agreed to every condition. The cops would take care of him signing it and filing the peace order with the RCMP.

It was barely noon.

When the police left, Aberdeen thanked them politely and watched as Willy and Jason did too. She noticed William’s eyes on her as she heard Brendan thank them and offer to walk them out. Then she saw Jason was looking at her too. “Can I talk to you? Alone?” he asked.

“Yeah. Of course.”

She followed him to an empty hallway – one she had walked down hundreds of times while working the practices. Jason made sure nobody else was around before he started speaking. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “Just a bit spooked, as you can imagine.”

“Listen, I know you’ve got your parents’ place but my door is always open too if you or Kasha don’t feel safe in the apartment for the next little bit,” he offered. God, she still needed to tell Kasha. She still needed to call her fucking parents. They were going to have a fit. “You know Jen wouldn’t mind.”

“You’d add another girl to your house?” she tried to joke.

“Don’t joke about this,” he said, his voice so serious Aberdeen almost felt back for cracking the joke. “Do you want to stay at my place? Do you feel safe?”

“No. And yes,” she said. “No I do not want to stay at your place, but thank you for the offer. And yes, I feel safe. I mean, I feel safe right now, knowing that if he breaks that peace bond, he can go to jail. That’s what’s making me feel safe right now.”

“It should. It’s serious business.”

“Do you understand how lucky I am that the cops took it seriously and got it done within hours? Because I guarantee you if it was just me filing the complaint, they wouldn’t have taken it seriously,” she said. “They only took it seriously because of Brendan and him going apoplectic, and you know it.”

“I do know it,” Jason nodded his head. “I’ve known it every day since my old teammate’s girlfriend had to get the exact same thing down in Dallas against a group of crazy girls who wanted to sleep with her boyfriend and threatened to show up at their house and suffocate her in her sleep.”

Okay, so apparently this was pretty commonplace. Well, at least in hers and Jason’s lives. While it wasn’t a crazy fangirl, he at least still understood where she was coming from. “I guess I’m lucky he only wanted an inside scoop, I guess.”

Jason shook his head. “I almost had a fucking heart attack when I saw that message. You don’t even understand. I was walking and I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around and started running to my car. That’s when I saw Will.”

Ah, yes. William. She wondered where he was right now. She’d have to find him after this conversation. “Yeah. I was shaking so much that for some reason, his name was the first to pop up.”

Jason stayed silent, nodding his head. She could tell he was biting his tongue, wanting to say something, deciding whether or not it was worth it. “Listen…I know…I know I shouldn’t even be asking this, but there’s nothing going on between you and Willy, is there?”

Aberdeen held her breath. She had to lie to Siena. She had to lie to Kasha. Now, she had to lie to Jason. It would have been inevitable, but she wished she didn’t have to, mostly because she respected him so much and knew how much he cared about her. “No. I just…we’re close – kinda – and listen – his crush isn’t exactly a secret, but it’s not like I’m doing anything while I’m working here,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit. “I would never jeopardize my job or my career like that.”

“Right. I know. Sorry,” Jason kept nodding, now a bit bashful that he even brought it up. “I just…you let him know, you know—”

“Because we’re close,” she reiterated. “We’re practically the same age. And because he’s the only guy around my age on the team who has even just some of his shit together because of the way he grew up. I mean, I didn’t call Auston or Kappy for a reason.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” he actually cracked a smile. “I just—sorry, Aberdeen. I didn’t mean to be—”

“It’s okay, Jason,” she wished he’d just dropped it, because the more he dragged it on, the more she had to lie to him, and the more it killed her.

There was a moment of silence before Jason spoke again. “Kappy would have probably taken you to an oyster bar,” he quipped.

Aberdeen snorted. She began laughing one of those silent laughs as she shook her head. “You’re probably right.”

***

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: Earlier today, a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs organization was followed from their residence to 50 Bay Street. It is of the utmost importance that members of the Toronto Maple Leafs organization are allowed privacy in their personal lives and are not stalked, followed, and harassed on their way to employment. Due to the unacceptable actions, we have terminated the media credentials and locker room access of the individual involved in the incident, and they will never be allowed back into our locker room. We encourage those in the media to review the acceptable guidelines policy given at the beginning of each season. Legal action has already been taken against the individual. We will not be answering any further questions.

***

“She what?!” Zach Hyman was in disbelief at what William announced to the room.

“Who was it?” John asked.

“Are they pressing charges?” Tyson demanded.

“There’s already a peace bond – it’s like a restraining order,” Jason explained. “He can’t get within, like, a kilometre of her or the arena without her pressing charges and him going to jail.”

The locker room was in disbelief at the news that Aberdeen had been stalked on her way to work that morning. They knew the media could be crazy, they just didn’t know they could be that crazy. To target a young female member of the office was unheard of. Usually they were the ones being stalked, not the office staff. “Is she okay?” Zach asked.

“She’s doing fine. She’s Aberdeen. For what it’s worth I think she’s keeping it all in, just like last time, but that’s neither here nor there,” Jason said, alluding to the Ethan situation. “It all happened so fast this morning. That’s why nobody had to do media after practice today. Brendan suspended it.”

William watched as Auston shook his head. “That girl’s being put through the fucking ringer, dude. First the Ethan thing, then that scar, now this?”

“I’m surprised she stays with us,” Tyson commented.

“I don’t. She loves us,” Mitch spoke up. “Just like we love her. This is just…a series of unfortunate events. Like that book series.”

“You read books?” Auston quipped.

Mitch punched him in the arm. “So I get why she’d text Jason,” Mitch continued, looking at William. “But why you?”

William shrugged. “How would I know? She was probably shaking and her hand slipped while typing. Would you be calm in that situation?”

Jason had heard that before.

***

“You’re not scared?” William asked over the phone, sitting alone inside of his car, still in the parking lot after practice. Everybody had left long ago, but not him.

“A little bit, but I’m not letting it take over my life. I can’t let it take over my life,” Aberdeen replied, her voice calm. She was probably talking to him from the employee washroom back on Bay Street. “If I let the fear take over, I wouldn’t do anything. I wouldn’t be able to do my job.”

“But this isn’t that type of fear. This is someone stalked you on your way to work fear. This is someone hit you with a glass because they hated your boyfriend fear. This is—”

“—that was a freak accident—”

“—This is a different type of fear, minskatt. I can’t stand seeing this happen to you.”

“Willy, I couldn’t stand to hear those guys in the bar chirping you, either,” she said. “You have to trust me when I tell you that it freaked me out and scared me but there’s a peace order now and it’s been dealt with. I’m not going to let it take over my life. Remember what you told me? I’m not what happened to me.”

William took a deep breath to stop himself from getting emotional. His girlfriend was handling this much better than he was – that was very clear. “I just love you so much,” he whispered. Aberdeen could swear she heard his voice crack slightly. “I don’t ever want to see anything bad happen to you. It kills me because I can’t help you right then and there. I can’t even touch you. It’s hard. We have to do this instead. This is the hardest part of keeping this all a secret.”

“I know. I know,” she agreed with him. “But you have to trust me. You trust me, right?”

“With my whole heart,” he responded.

“Then you need to trust that I’m okay.”

***

@reporterchris: The member of the Leafs organization who was followed from their residence was a woman. Shanahan, Dubas, & co. are taking this extremely seriously. Rumours are the team is quite upset too.

@reporterchris: Organization is not naming names for obvious reasons. But they do tell us the member is doing fine, was not hurt or injured, and continues to perform her full duties with the team. Org is treating this as a one-off scary episode, but did not want to take chances.

@reporterchris: Team is a bit standoffish tonight, with good reason. Though the culprit is not in the room, players coming out for media availability aren’t as forthcoming as usual.

***

“Oh my god, there is literally no room to breathe in this thing,” Aberdeen said as she sucked in her stomach as Kasha zipped up her jumpsuit. She looked at herself in the mirror and had to admit the jumpsuit looked phenomenal on her. It was skin tight, hugging her body in all the right places and actually made it look like she had some semblance of cleavage, and showed off just the right amount of skin for a February night. Her long hair cascaded down her back, her makeup was immaculate besides the patch near her scar where she couldn’t put any on, and her heels gave her that extra bit of confidence to pull off the look.

“You’ll be able to get some alcohol in,” Kasha joked as she finished zipping. “Or else bottle service was a bust.”

“Bottle service is never a bust,” Aberdeen said. “I’m just gonna make sure the pre-drink is worth it too.”

Aberdeen had decided against telling Kasha tonight about the stalking earlier in the day. It just wasn’t the right time, because she knew Kasha was incredibly excited for tonight, and because Aberdeen didn’t want to think about it either. Much like the Ethan situation, she didn’t want it to creep up in her mind when she was supposed to be having a good time. She’d tell Kasha tomorrow, when she was hungover. She’d also tell her parents tomorrow, because if she told them tonight, they’d probably show up to the pre-drink and lock her in her room.

As their friends began arriving, the drinks started flowing. People brought their own, and of course Kasha and Aberdeen had some booze in stock, and Kasha made sure to take pictures – “thirst trips, Aberdeen, thirst traps!!!!!” – before things started to get too hectic and too alcohol-fuelled. Evan came, and Masani came, and Tom, and Christian and Gavin and Zach, and Delilah and Ariana and Sloane, and Jude surprised her by coming in from McMaster, and she was surrounded by so many friends and posing for so many group photos that her mind really didn’t think of what happened earlier, and she was happy, really happy, and wanted to have the best time.

They practically fell out of their Ubers and into the lineup outside Toybox, but Masani spoke with the bouncer and he let them all in and they made their way to their reserved table. Kasha pulled her out onto the dance floor and Aberdeen began moving her body to the beat of the music. She’d look over her shoulder every now and then, making sure nobody was him, but after the first few times, she came to the realization he wouldn’t be there, and she really let loose. Kasha was telling everyone who would listen that it was Aberdeen’s birthday so they’d buy them drinks. Aberdeen accepted them. Most people asked about her scar. She told them. A few guys flirted with her. She shot them down. Many more stared at her in her jumpsuit, their eyes filling with lust.

Then one pair caught her eye, because she could recognize those baby blues anywhere.

He was across the dance floor, staying a safe distance away from her and her party, but he was still keeping a watchful eye. Not possessive, not domineering, not jealous or envious or untrusting – just watching. She wanted him around her; she wanted him behind her so she could grind on him; she wanted him in front of her so she could dance with him; she wanted him close to her so she could wrap her arms around him; but she couldn’t. He was there and she was here, and that’s where they had to stay.

Don’t even hav to drunkt text you tonigt when you’re alreadfy here she texted him, downing the last of her vodka soda. She looked towards him to see him taking out his phone. It was only then that she noticed Rasmus approaching him with a drink, Kappy too already sipping on his own.

just wanted to make sure everything was ok after what happened today

omg is that rasmus isn’t hew like 12 how didf the bouncer let him inm who did youi pay

u look so sexy

do you know this placve can we sneak away

don’t think that’s the best idea

why not

kasha kappy rasmus

Oh right. Kasha. They needed to keep this a secret from Kasha. And Kappy. And Rasmus. Aberdeen’s drunk brain wasn’t thinking very straight right now. Would Kasha notice if she snuck away for…however long? Would Masani? Would any one of her friends? Were they already too drunk to notice, too drunk to care?

“Who are you texting?” Kasha asked.

“Nobody,” Aberdeen answered absent-mindedly. She typed out her last text message before locking her phone.

i want your fingers inside of me

“Let’s go back to the booth,” Kasha whined as she grabbed Aberdeen’s hand. “My feet huuuuurt.”

They made their way through the crowd and up the steps. Aberdeen looked back to see William looking down at his phone, biting him bottom lip. He locked his screen and put it in his pocket with an irritated look on his face. She got him.

The rest of the night was fun. William stayed away, which meant none of her friends interacted with him or Kappy or Rasmus – even Masani didn’t see him, which was good because if she did she most certainly would have bullied him into giving her Alex’s number since she’d been calling him “the best lay of my life thus far” since June. She danced some more with her girlfriends, drank some more, got some more drinks bought for her, got asked about her scar some more, and took more pictures in the booth and on the dance floor. The announcement for last call was the only reason they left, stumbling out of the club at 2am like good twenty-somethings having the time of their lives. Aberdeen drunkenly hugged every one of her friends before they left in their taxis or Ubers, even placing a huge kiss on Jude’s cheek for coming in all the way from McMaster to join them. She, Kasha, and Evan got into a taxi together, with Kasha even taking some last-minute pictures of her posing in the back of the taxi, even though Aberdeen thought she probably looked like a mess.

When she got her phone back, she opened the front-facing camera and used her arms to push up her boobs, snapping a quick picture of her cleavage and herself biting her lip before quickly sending it off to Willy. Kasha was too busy on her own phone to notice, and Evan was trying to make friends with the driver. Almost immediately, she saw the three dots pop up.

the next time i see u alone, ur gonna pay for this

😇

do you wankt sokme more

are u comfortable with that?

She posed again, doing much of the same, except this time she made it a video. She pressed send.

fuuuuuuck ur so fucking sexy

im sry i do not have boobies

😂

u have beautiful boobs

perfect for my mouth

Aberdeen smiled. She held her breath.

i love yourf mouthj on my boobs i love your mouth onb my pussyt

i love my mouth on ur pussy too

where is rasmus is he in bed

FOCUS ABERDEEN

“ABERDEEEEEEEN!” Evan called out loudly, drunkenly. It was only then that she realized that the taxi had stopped and that Evan and Kasha were already out of the taxi, waiting for her. “Let’s goooo!”

Instead of just opened her door, she crawled across the backseat like a baby giraffe just finding its legs and got out that way. She thanked the driver and told him it was her birthday before she closed the door. Evan made sure they got into the elevator.

minskatt?

in elevator no shawarma this time when i gety backj into my room i willk send more pics

😍

do you like my butt

yes i do

i like my butt toop do you wankt pics of my butt

i want whatever u will give me

Evan also made sure they got into their apartment just fine. Aberdeen immediately kicked off her heels and escaped to her room, closing the door. The feel of her feet out of her strappy heels and on the laminate floor brought her so much joy. She faced her full-length mirror and took one last picture, posing with her ass out before she sent the picture to William.

for you and only for you

fuck baby can’t believe how hot u look

let me take off my jumpsuit i have sexyt underwear onm

Aberdeen put her phone down and somehow, someway, got the zipper on her back down low enough that she could shimmy out of it. The second the skin tight jumpsuit was off, she felt an even bigger sense of relief and comfort than she did when she took off her heels. Every organ in her body felt like it was settling into their rightful place and not squeezed in by the jumpsuit. It felt nice. It felt so nice that she sat down on her bed. And when she sat down on her bed, the comforter felt so soft against her skin. Then she saw her pillows. She fucking loved her pillows. So she lay her head down on them. Her eyes became heavy. Her breath steadied.

that’s so hot baby do u wear them at work too Aberdeen? minskatt? hahahahahahaha goodnight minskatt

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ohnoiyo-yoyle · 4 years ago

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TPOT 1 SPOILERS!!!!!!!!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!!!!!!!

So! First off, tpot was soooooo goood like oh my gosh I didn't expect it to be that good and the intro was SO well animated and the character interactions and just aaaaaaahhhhh!!! Okay, maybe I'm overhyping it a bit but that's just how I feel. TPOT reignited that spark for BFB that was starting to kinda fade for me. Since Battle for BFB is more comedy based and silly I was starting to get a little bored with it, so it's nice to finally get started on a more, I guess serious? show that focuses on character interactions/relationships and development/arcs and all that. But anyways, ONTO THE HIGHLIGHTS!!!

So time passes in the bfdi world the same way as it does in ours. Good to know

Happy Flower

2 is a cryptid confirmed. Always there, always watching

Oh!! The Yoyle Needy is like, fallen over. Along with part of the mountain

How did that happen???^^^

“It’s time for Cake at Stake!” “What?” “I SAID IT’S TIME FOR CAKE AT STAKE!!!” “Get them up for me Nickel!!” “Huh?”

WOO NEW CONTESTANT YESSSS!!!!

OH!! THE ORIGINAL CAKE AT STAKE INTRO IS BACK!!!

I will admit, I will miss the epic™ remix, but it’s also nice to be back with the original! Feels nostalgic!!

The doodles!!! Omg I love them!

THEYRE SO CUTE WHAT THE HECK THEY REMIND ME OF THE REQUEST DRAWINGS WHEN THEY SIGN STUFF

“Oh! Now I remember!” “Good for you” *pauses, looks at camera* “So-”

Purple tomato (toe-mah-o)

Pen being positive and cheering up the newbie

Thanking the voters: Speedrun Edition

“Looks like it’s curtains for......” “Looks like it’s curtains for....” Ō—Ō

“Don’t you trust me Clock?!” “Uh, of course NOT-” “Well prepare to get over it!”

Ah yes, my favorite: Cammy, Blendy, and Onigiri...y....

Pencil >:(

awwww Foldy misses him so much

OH NO TAPEY!!!! I VOTED FOR THEM :((((((

NOOOOO TAGGY NOOOOOOOOOO

Well at the very least Winner won. I’d rather have an actual character be in the game instead of, y’know, nonexisty?

MmM! Tasty

*GASP* PRIME NUMBER!?!?!!!

Anime expression activate =͟͟͞͞(ō_ō)

Waaaiiit a minute....are they gonna

“We’ll have to add someone instead!!” PLEASE DONT GIVE ME FALSE HOPE AND ADD NONEXISTY AMD THEN IGNORE THE CONTESTANT’S PROTESTS OF THERE STILL BEING AN UNEVEN AMOUNT OF PEOPLE JUST FOR THE SAKE OF A JOKE PLEASE DON’T

41 + 0 = 41 OH MY GOSH IT’S ACTUALLY GONNA HAPPEN THEY’RE ACTUALLY GONNA ADD TAGGY

YYEEEEEESSSSSS YEEEEESSSSS YEEEESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!! OMGOMGOMGOMG YEESSSS!!!! THEY ADDED THEM HSJFBSHAKGNFBJK!!!!

They have such a cool gimmick with their face being emoticons and text!!!

At first I thought that Price Tag was a girl and Winner was a boy (based on their voices) and thought “Oh cool! The gender balance stays even then!” But now I know that they’re both non-binary and I’m thinking “Oh cool! The gender balance still stays even AND there are two canon non-binary characters!!!

The bfb/tpot crew really be out here, continuing to give to the lgbt+ community and I am all for that

“I take back all the things I said about Winner while I was down there!” H-honey? What did you say???

“You do equal 1 right?” “I can if you want me to! :D” “*gulp* $1”

Well at least 2 isn’t like the previous hosts where they shove the eliminated contenders into a tiny cramped space and give them sometimes less than the bare necessities. These guys get to chill in what’s pretty much a nice hotel (tho they might be locked in)

“Cool! So you wanna stay on the same team? ‘:D” “No :)” “oh.. okay. :0”

Donut and BarfBag frienship solidarity

W.O.A.H BUNCH RETURN!!!!! W.O.A.H. BUNCH RETURN!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Who the egg is that?”

Oh??!!?!?? Loser backstory?!?!?! In THIS SHOW?!!?!? It’s more likely than you think

Chicken nuggets

Clock is a Loser stan

OH NOOO CAKE NOOOOO

YAYYY CAKE AND NAILY FRIENDSHIP!!!!!

GOLF BALL AND TENNIS BALL FRIENDSHIP!!!! AND SHE EVEN SAID SHE APPRECIATES HIM!!!! THATS SO SWEET!!!!!!

Ha. Balls (as in actual balls. Not whatever you’re thinkin about, ya nasties)

Yay Pen and Eraser friendship!!! They’re finally on the same team!!!

Either you prevent death, or you’re a murderer. There’s no in-between

“Did someone say h8ers?!!!” She sounds like a skater kid

Blocky is no longer with us. We shall miss him greatly

OH NOO BASKETBALL SHE DIDNT MEAN YOU Oh oh well i- there she goes I guess

Two moms and their son

So can they actually see those logo things or what??

Aww Rocky actually wants to be with them!!! And he’s taking initiative!! Way to go buddy!!!

Awww noo Book!!!! She’s trying her best but ultimately, they’re right!!! She needs to leave them be and get some new friends!!!!!

Please don’t tell me she’ll be the next Leafy. But so far she seems to be heading in the right direction

Uhhh Pillow?? What are you doing hun?

Yeah!! Clock and Icy alliance!!

Zigzag crew woo!!!

AWW NO LIGHTNING!!!

“Don’t worry Lightning! You have me!l “I don’t really..want you.” oooooh!!

Epic™

This just.....this ^^^

THEY’RE SO CUTE TOGETHER WTF I LIVE THIS FRIENDSHIP SO FAR

And there was even the little beeping cashier sound when Price Tag changed faces omg I love little details like that!!!

Snowball: Gets owned. Me, @ Naily and Price Tag: Good for them

NO! Marker!!!

Corporate needs you to find the difference between this picture and this picture: An egg and a ball.

Basketball: They’re the same picture

“I thought you were gonna collect me! Ha!” “Ha...haha......ha”

Cloudy’s secretly a kidnapper 0_0

DeathPact be ruining Bottle’s good time and she having non of that

Pillow doesn’t know how to read

The >:3 intensifies

She’s trying.....so hard...to make friends

Yay!! Lightning turning over a new leaf!!

“Well, I’m sure whoever it is, they’re gunna be just f-huueughh....,”

Continues in Part 2!! Which will be out sometime tomorrow cause these things take long to make

#tpot #tpot spoilers #bfb #bfdi #battle for bfdi #battle for dream island #battle for bfb #the power of two #ramble

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goldens0422 · 4 years ago

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Far Too Many Coincidences - Anidala Fanfic

It all started when she went to that fertility clinic, and she was able to choose which sperm donor she wanted to have as the biological father of her baby. The name Anakin Skywalker on one of them felt familiar, and not long after choosing him, she soon remembered that kid that she met on Tatooine when she still lived there, a nice coincidence. He had the biggest crush on her back then. Now, they’ve both grown up: At 27 years old, Anakin Skywalker owned a tech company and was a millionaire well on his way to becoming a billionaire, and at the other end of the spectrum, at 31 years old, Padmé Amidala owned a well-known law firm in the same state as Anakin ended up moving himself.

She met him soon enough by accident, the both of them meeting in a Starbucks which they were both coincidentally in at the same time as Padmé moved from one favorite coffee shop to another. They both knew at least a bit about how the other fared at life since media kept tabs on them as was the norm, and Padmé soon told him about her pregnancy and how she got pregnant, something only her immediate family knew back then, though she didn’t tell him he was the biological father just yet as he was conflicted in that category. The two then exchanged numbers in order to be able to further keep up with one another.

Coincidentally, the two only lived a few blocks away, with both of them residing in townhouses because Padmé was still rather frugal and Anakin wasn’t interested in sleeping in his headquarters nor buying a larger house before it really felt time to do so. Padmé also started working less, and this led Anakin to start visiting a lot to check on how things were going. She tells him often that he doesn’t need to worry so much, but at some point, she gave up, knowing he would still come back either way. Then again, she shouldn’t have tried getting him to leave anyway. She was comforted by his presence.

She would usually say to herself that she didn’t know why he kept coming back, but she knew. She knew it for the longest time. She swears it was already obvious since Day 1, and she had a feeling her reciprocation of his feelings were equally obvious.

She soon found out she was having twins, a boy and a girl, and coincidentally, Anakin came by the next day. The first person she broke the news to was him. Something tells her that propelled Anakin to come by even more often because that’s exactly what he did.

She even discussed the baby names with Anakin, even though he wasn’t even going to be the acting father (something struck in Padmé when she thought of that). They eventually came up with calling the boy Luke and the girl Leia.

She was deep into her pregnancy now, and she knew having twins (or having multiple babies for that matter) were likely to break her water earlier than expected. She was also very tempted to tell Anakin who the father really is.

They were finishing watching a romcom which Anakin recommended, and she loved it. In fact, she loved all the movies she and Anakin watched together, though she vaguely remembers spending a lot of the time looking at Anakin.

“So, did you like it?”, Anakin asked almost nervously.

“I did,” she smiled up at him. “Loved it.”

He narrowed his eyes as he held in a smile, “I don’t know, really. You didn’t cry while watching, so…”

She laughed, “Yeah, I guess I didn’t, but then again, maybe I am holding back all the crying for the big day.”

Anakin laughed himself, “I guess you are.”

She slowly nodded awkwardly, and there was a bit of silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You did say you got the two through a fertility clinic, right?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Now, not that it matters so much, but may I just ask who the father is?”

Oh, wow, what a coincidence.

She turned to her bedside table and pulled open the drawer. The folder including a copy of information of the sperm donor was inside, and she pulled it out. There was a logo of the fertility clinic embossed on it. She handed it over to Anakin.

“Open it for yourself,” Padmé said.

Anakin opened it, and she could tell the exact moment he realized it.

There was a baby picture of him there along with a picture of him probably taken around 6 years ago, and basic information on him was provided.

He turned to her, suddenly treating this as a lot more important than he first stated, “M-me? I-I’m the donor you chose?”

“Y-y-yeah, you,” Padmé replied shyly, her cheeks warming up. “I just thought the baby pictures were cute, and I would’ve wanted my kids to look like that. You have…pretty good hair, too, and I want my kids to have good hair.”

Anakin blushed and rubbed the back of his head, his hand running through his thick, fluffy chocolate brown hair, “Thank you.”

Padmé smiled for a bit before she noticed something.

Yet another coincidence, she supposed.

“My water broke.”

____________________

Anakin rushed Padmé to the hospital, and it wasn’t long before she was rushed to a room to eventually give birth.

Anakin was sat down next to her the entire time, and Padmé occasionally took a look at him, and as much as he wasn’t going to be one of those taking care of the children, he looked like a husband so nervous as he watched his wife push. It was almost as if he wanted to go through the pain himself so she didn’t have to go through it.

Eventually, the first baby came out, and it was the boy. A great many minutes later, the girl came out as well. By that point, she noticed Anakin was crying as well, though it was tears of joy. Padmé’s tears were tears of joy as well soon enough.

Anakin held the boy, and Padmé held the other.

“Any names yet?”, the doctor asked.

Padmé shook her head, “Not yet, could you give us a bit? We’re still kind of arguing over it.”

The doctor laughed before leaving them space, “Of course, well, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Anakin turned to her, confused, “I thought we decided on Luke and Leia?”

Padmé smiled once he said we. She had something in mind. It was profoundly stupid, but it was what she wanted, and it wouldn’t be any harder than raising twins alone, would it?

“Well, we didn’t have second names yet.”

“Oh,” Anakin slowly nodded. “Yeah, good point.”

“Any ideas?”

“Would Shmi for Leia and Jinn for Luke work? Those names are pretty important to me, so that’s why. I mean, they don’t matter so much because I’m not really going to be their acting dad. Well, that is unless you’d be willing to give me visitation rights, which still really isn’t that.”

She brushed off his last statements.

“Shmi and Jinn would work, yeah,” Padmé gave him a small smile.

Anakin smiled with a satisfied look on his face.

“Luke Jinn Amidala. Leia Shmi Amidala.”

Padmé shook her head, “Luke Jinn Amidala-Skywalker. Leia Shmi Amidala-Skywalker.”

His eyes widened, “W-what? B-but, I’m not their dad.”

“You are.”

“Well, biologically, yes, but I’m not gonna raise them.”

“That won’t be the case if you want to,” Padmé pursed her lips. “I-I-I know this is very stupid, but-but I-I love you, Anakin. In fact, I’m in love with you, and if you want to raise our babies with me, that would make me more than happy. It’ll be pretty tough at first, yes, but it honestly won’t be any harder than raising twins alone.”

She knew Anakin considered it. Without a doubt, it would be hard, especially in the early. After all, the two didn’t even live together, but as time would pass, it would become a whole lot easier, and she knew it. She also knew it would be very sudden. As much as Anakin had been acting like her twins’ dad throughout her entire pregnancy, she knew he didn’t consider legitimately being the dad.

Anakin eventually nodded, smiled, and kissed her, “I love you, too, and I’d love to be their dad. I can’t say I started the day thinking I’d even come close to being a dad nor come close to finding someone who loves me as I do her, but I also can’t say I’d say no to it.”

And, as Padmé Amidala-Skywalker looked at her now-family of 7 wonderful people, her and Anakin having 3 more kids after Luke and Leia, she couldn’t help but thank God for giving her the courage to make that stupid decision.

Though she still had to wonder how many coincidences it took to get there.

My Masterlist

#anidala #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #modern au #anakin x padme #fanfiction

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puckngrind · 4 years ago

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What’s In a Name: Epilogue - J. Toews

Epilogue.

Where we left off: Jon and Bekah welcomed Lincoln into the world in 2020.

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 3,827

Series Masterlist ) Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

2025.

The rink has seemed like home for Bekah since meeting and marrying Jon. This morning it was a bit different as she kneels in front of her now five year old tying his hockey skates.

"Tight enough Linc?" Bekah asks and Lincoln stands to his feet.

"Yes, Momma. Maybe even better than Daddy does it." Bekah muffles her laugh from Lincoln's comment.

"Good. Now, let's get this jersey and your helmet on." Bekah stands and pulls over the house hockey green jersey over his pads. She feels someone staring but doesn't take her focus off the very squirrelly Kindergartener who doesn’t have the patiences for her to stop. Tapping his helmet she hands him the gloves and the eyes she felt moves closer.

"Hey there! Do ya'll know you have the same last name as the Hawk's captain and your son is wearing his number too. That's cute." Her comment was laced with a sense of entitlement and Bekah bit the inside of her cheek.

"Yup. Heard his foundation bought the jerseys for the league too." Bekah replies and turns her focus back to Lincoln as she rubbed lightly along the JT foundation logo on his shoulder. The woman then got called by her own son and scurried off before continuing.

"Is Daddy going to be off work before my game starts?" Lincoln's voice is muffled with his mouth guard in place.

"He should be here any moment baby boy." Bekah leans down to reassure him. "Speaking of!" Bekah eyes Jon coming through the doors of the rink. He embraces Bekah as he does every time he comes home before turning his attention to the kids.

"Sorry I'm late but looks like you’ve got this covered." Jon whispers after his lips brush hers.

"We are all set. And the fake Louis over there thinks it's cute Linc is wearing 19 and has the Captain's last name too." Bekah smirks.

"Well maybe Scar should run by with her Daddy sweater on." Jon shakes the toddler's hand. "Hey baby girl!" Bekah laughs and goes to take Scarlett out of the toddler carrier attached to her back. The now two year old in her St. Patrick's Day Daddy jersey goes running after Lincoln who started walking to his team. "You would think she runs this place." Jon laughs grabbing Bekah's hand as she tucks the carrier into Lincoln's bag.

"She had grown up coming here. Linc has been taking classes since she was 7 months old, Tae."

"I'm gonna go save Linc from the relentless questions I am sure she’s asking him." Jon heads over to scoop Scarlett up and wishes Lincoln's team good luck playing their first game. The three walk up to sit in the stands and Scarlett starts cheering as the team takes the ice.

"Coot! Core! Let's go Inks!" Scarlett's chubby hands clap.

"You really think he's okay playing with these older boys?" Bekah's leg is bouncing on up and down and Jon's hand settles her.

"Yes. He's playing up because he's good not because he's our son, Beks. No one knows he's five." Jon whispers to calm his wife's nerves.

Lincoln's first hockey game started and even though he was the youngest on the ice by two years, you would never guess. The Toews genes evident in how he played. Bekah, Jon, Scarlett cheered as he scored his first goal and then laughed as he jumped up in excitement but didn’t land on his skates. Bekah looked towards the scoreboard and realized the same mom from earlier was staring at Jon. "I might never get use to people just staring at you." Bekah whispered not realizing she even said it out loud.

"I know Babe." Jon's lips kiss her temple. "Maybe you should bring your Louis with you next game." Jon chuckles knowing the Louis Vuitton collecting dust in the closet was never coming to the hockey rink.

"Funny Tae... funny." Bekah bumps her shoulder into his side. "Maybe if Scar decides potty training is actually something she's interested in I could bring a real purse with me." Bekah spins one of Scarlett's ringlets around her finger.

"She won't even be three until February." Jon bounces his mini-me on his knee and she laughs.

"Yeah, yeah. I know, boys and girls are different." Bekah knowing where Jon was going with the conversation and how she already had Lincoln trained by Scarlett's age. "There you go Linc!" Bekah shouts as Lincoln dives in front of a puck and Jon's laugh rings out.

"You would never know Momma wasn't really into hockey ten years ago. Would ya?" Jon kisses Scarlett's head. “Now she’s rocking the hockey mom life.” Bekah eyes Jon and he mouths, “sexy at it too.” Bekah feels the heat in her cheeks but turns her attention back to the ice.

The game ended and Jon helped Bekah put Scarlett back in her carrier then met Lincoln and his team.

“There’s my boy!” Jon scooped Lincoln up with all his gear on. “You played hard. We are so proud of you.” Jon drops Lincoln down and the three of them start taking off his gear while Lincoln talks a mile a minute recounting the entire game.

“Did you see my double shift dad? See how I used my skate to kick the puck out of the corner?” Lincoln’s little voice sounding just like Jon and both parents laugh.

“We sure did Linc. Now let’s get home and get ready for Auntie Rin, m’kay?” Bekah feels Scarlett bopping up and down on her back while Jon tries to control Lincoln’s excited dance as he attempts to undress him the rest of the way.

The car ride home was filled with giggles of Brynn’s arrival and recap of the game. Bekah grazed her finger down Jon’s arm and he shifts as she moved to his leg. “What was that for?” She questioned and sees Jon smirk.

“Nothin’ Beks.” The sly smirk permanently graced his face for the rest is the ride. Bekah dropped it knowing if it was something he was hiding she’d find out soon enough.

The kids bolt inside the house as soon as they are unbuckled. “Don’t go too far Rin will be here in less than an hour!” Bekah called out and hears a door shut from behind her and spins on her heals to see her best friend rounding her car.

“How about like one minute? You should know my driving skills would get me here faster!” Brynn opens her arms waiting for Bekah’s embrace. “Now help me with these crazies!” She pulls open the sliding door to a choir of squeals.

“Hey kids!” Bekah leans in and unbuckles Derek and Brynn’s newest edition to their family. Morgan’s little fingers make grabby hands at Bekah. “Hey sweet girl. You taking it easy on your Mommy?”

“You lied about 18 month old girls, friend. Lied.” Brynn answered.

“Mom’s right Aunt Beks.” Jack, the oldest, pops out and half hugs Bekah. “Morgan is giving her a run for her money as Dad says.” All three adults laugh and Jon scoops up Brynn’s middle son, Jameson.

“How about you boys take Morgan to find Lincoln and Scar. I’m sure they are in the playroom. Remember how to get there?” Both boys nod and run in the house with their sister in tow.

Jon and Bekah flank Brynn as she breathes out. “I love them but they can be a lot.”

“And you are doing a damn good job. Have you heard when Morgan can be adopted yet?” Jon moves to the back of her van to take out the suitcases.

“Caseworker says she’s different than the boys even though it’s the same birth mom. So in the land of foster to adopt... We shall wait.” Brynn laughs. Derek and Brynn decided to be foster parents not long after Lincoln was born. They took placement of Jack and Jameson not long after finishing all their paperwork. Jack was 3 and Jameson was a newborn. When the couple found out that the birth mom had another baby and she could either go into foster care with different family or them. There was no question. They needed to keep the siblings together.

“So glad you decided to spend the boys’ fall break here Rin. I’ve missed you.” Bekah slid a drink over as Brynn launches herself up to the kitchen stool.

“Me too. How do the kids get up here? I see the pictures.” Brynn laughs while taking a sip.

“Have you seen my children, they climb on everything! Scar swings her tiny self up there and then jumps down. It’s resourceful.”

“They are Jon’s kids, there is no denying that.” Brynn laughs with a sip.

“Hey! I should take offense to that but I might have to agree there.” Jon presses his lips to Bekah’s temple and she leans into him. The friends fell into easy conversation until they were interrupted by Morgan who wanted a snack. Jon handed the toddler enough fruit snacks for all of them and she toddled back. “I’ve wondered this for awhile. Why is she not a J?”

Both women just look at him. “Tae, I’ve never thought about it. Jack and Jameson. A J girl name makes sense.” Bekah looks at Brynn who just shrugs her shoulders. The caseworker said her and Derek could change any of the kids names but they decided to leave them for a few reasons then gave the boys new middle names when they were officially adopted.

“They are all alcohol brands, but is that just...” Jon questions and Brynn’s mouth drops opens.

“I... how... ummm...” Brynn starts and her eye go wide. “At least they aren’t named after the place they were...” Brynn looks down the hall then back to her friends, “conceived.” Her face lights up with mischief.

“Rin, Linc and Scar aren’t named after that.” Bekah answers with a puzzled look written all over her face.

“Sure they are. Lincoln was in your Lincoln Park place and still miss that roof, every time I come here...” Jon starts laughing as he’s caught on.

“But Scarlett? Are you saying she was in Columbus? Like Scarlett and Grey? Because that’s not the case.” Bekah runs her hand over her face.

“Beks, we live on Red Maple. R-E-D.” Jon laughs while pulling Bekah into his side. “And everyone in this room can do the math on Scar’s birthday and my last cup win.”

“Oh. My. No!” Bekah responds sending both Jon and Brynn into a fit of laughter.

“So if Jon makes the All-Star game this year, maybe we can expect a Seattle named baby to come out of the trip?” Brynn snickers knowing she’s getting under her best friend’s skin.

“Speaking of trips. I miss you coming with me.” Jon seems to have changed the subject before hearing his name being called and he retreats to answer the kids.

“Bekah, you know you could go with him Wednesday. They play in St. Louis. I’ve got the kids and Kelly lives here now. I’m sure she can help if something goes crazy, which I don’t plan on that happening.” Brynn jumps off the stool and backs up to look down the hallway. “Seriously, you should go.”

Brynn was right. After the shut down of the economy in 2020, Kelly and Zack made the decision to move back to Chicago where Zack started teaching at DePaul for help with future college tuition. Bekah and Jon hadn’t gotten away as much as they had in the past without taking the kids. Taking a day and a half to go watch him play and enjoy dinner alone did sound amazing.

“You sure Rin?” Bekah sounded giddy.

“Yes, very much so.” Brynn had wandered into the living room that was now the Sedona inspired room. Prints hung of Jon and Bekah’s first trip, wedding day, the first time they took each kid and a family picture from the past summer when both kids hiked most of the way up. “I like the new one!”

“Speaking of new ones.” Jon’s stealth like entrance made both ladies jump. “I have something for you, Babe.” As he spoke, he pulls out a puck from his pocket. Bekah spins it in her hand and tears come to her eyes.

“Lincoln’s first game 8U game. October 18, 2025.” She sees that Jon had Lincoln sign the top too. “Tae.” She squeaks out.

“We might need a Lincoln shelf.” Jon wraps his arms around his wife and pulls her in.

“Tell him!” Brynn breaks the couple’s embrace as she spoke. Jon looks down with his eyebrows raised.

“How about I come to St. Louis with you this week?” Bekah stands on her tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “Just me.”

“YES!” Jon shouts out. “Seriously, Brynn? You are making this happen?” Jon turns and pulls her into a hug.

“You two lovebirds...” Brynn started and looked at how Jon lifted Bekah up in the air in so much joy about a few moments alone. “Still after all these years I’m happy as hell for you but also your passion for one another is...” she starts making a heaving motion.

With that, Bekah and Brynn soaked up their time together. Let Lincoln take a day off school on Monday to play with what he calls his cousins. And really with David’s kids living in Manitoba, Kelly and Brynn’s kids were the closest thing he had to cousins near him.

Monday night was a home game. Jon rented a box and invited Kelly and her family to join. The kids had so much fun cheering on the Hawks. After years of going to games they still loved the atmosphere. Tuesday morning came quick. Bekah left a giant list of instructions for Brynn which made her laugh. Jon took Lincoln to school before taking a morning skate. They flew out that afternoon. Jon interlaced his fingers in Bekah’s as the plane took off.

“You look like a first time flyer Beks. What gives?” Jon kisses her ear sweetly.

“Just worried about the kids and Rin and...” Jon’s lips land on hers to stop the rant swirling from her brain to her lips.

“They will be fine. Promise.” Jon pulled his arm around her and she breathed him in. The flight was short and the drive to the hotel was too. “You know you’ve never stayed here but could’ve all those years ago. New Years. Winter Classic.” Jon places her bag on top of his and grabs his wife’s hand.

“Yeah, I didn’t make the wises choices back then.” Bekah whispered.

“You are here aren’t you? We are here... so those choices lead to now.” Jon’s knuckle pressed the button. “And while it took some convincing..”

“Sorry.” Bekah mumbled as she pressed their floor.

“Baby, don’t be.” Jon kisses the top of her head as the door opens and leads them to their room. Opening the door he drops the bags as Bekah closes the door. His body pressing hers agains the door and lips locked together. Pulling at her legs to wrap them around him. They break and Jon’s lips slide down her neck. A moan escapes from her lips.

“Tae.” She tries to continue but Jon’s lips are on hers again. His hands tight around her with the door holder her up. “Tae.” She moans out again. Jon leans back a little to look her in the eyes.

“Ca va, mon amour?” Jon leans back and takes in his wife.

“I’m okay. Extremely turned on but also slightly worried about your teammates hearing us as they check in. Plus, there are things I would like to do to you that I cannot do pinned to this door.” Bekah leans to bite at his lips.

“Well for starters we aren’t on the team floor. I made sure of that. Now, what things are you talking about?” Jon pulls both of their bodies away from the door and carries Bekah towards the bed.

“First, Captain, I’d like you to rid you of these clothes.” Bekah wiggles free of Jon’s grip and stands to her feet. He grunts as she starts to take off his clothes. Running her fingers over his still well toned abs followed by her tongue until her teeth find his boxers. She pulls on them with only her mouth and Jon helps with an approving grunt. “When is the last time we didn’t have rushed sex Tae?”

“Too long Beks.” Jon barely gets out as his entire body reacts to Bekah’s lips running along the bottom of his shaft. “C'est cela.” He moans out as he finds the edge of the bed. Bekah continues until she wraps her lips around him and he stops her. “I need you undressed and up here.” He lifts her up and slides her tunic dress over her body then her leggings. “Damn sexy Baby. Damn Sexy.” He stands to carefully removing her bra then underwear kissing her skin as more is exposed.

“Really?” Bekah questions placing her hands over her breasts. “Sorry. Just feeling not as perky as I once was.” Bekah doesn’t look up at Jon with her admission. He pulls her chin up to make her eyes meet his.

“Rebekah, you are more beautiful and sexy than ever. I’m so fucking lucky you are mine.” He shifts her to lay her on the bed and hovers over her body.

“I’m lucky too. I just went from confident at hell to catching a glimpse of my stretch mark in the mirror.” She ran her hand over the mentioned mark from her last pregnancy. Jon met her hand with his lips.

“This means you worked hard to bring our sassy daughter into the world.” Jon moves up to her breasts and sucks one in between his teeth. “And I’m glad I currently don’t have to share these.” Bekah’s breath hitches then she laughs as he moves to do the same to the other. He kisses down her stomach and moves his way between her legs. Spreading her lips with his fingers he sucks on her clit causing Bekah’s hips to jump off the bed and her hand to land in his hair. Jon hums in approval. He moves his fingers to scissor deep inside her. Bekah went to call out his name and bit her lip. Jon looked up and kissed her thigh. “Beks, no one to wake up. Let me hear you.” He moved back to circling Bekah’s clit with his tongue as she moaned out.

“Tae. Fuck. Tae.” Bekah feels her orgasm crashing over her. Jon doesn’t let up as it washes over her. Her legs tremble and toes curl up his back. She loosens her grip and he quickly shifts up her body to press himself fully in her. Both moaning in the familiarity and need for each other. Jon presses his lips to hers and stays there. “Tae, move please.” Bekah tries to press her hips up and Jon smiles.

“I love you Beks.” He simply says as he pulls out slightly and starts a rhythm making both moan and spill out affirmations in the moment. Jon feels Bekah tighten completely around him and with a few more movements of his hips they both hit their high. Jon crashing into Bekah’s body, chests heaving from the intensity. They stay like this for a moment then a beeping sound starts in the direction of the pile of clothes.

“Tae, what is that?” Bekah questions and Jon laughed. “What?”

“I set an alarm to make sure we made it to team dinner.” Jon moves to find his phone. Turning off the alarm he looks at a notification. “Oh, dinner on our own. Fantastic!” He jumps back in bed and wraps Bekah up.

“Can we still go get dinner?” Bekah asks.

“Or order in.” A sly smile crosses Jon’s face and Bekah nods. “Hey, did you tell Brynn we were trying for a third already?”

“No, why do you ask?” Bekah looks up at him.

“Well she mentioned the whole naming of kids thing and Seattle plus she suggested this trip...” Jon trails off.

“Oh, no, but she’s Rin. I swear she knows things without me telling her.” Bekah jokes. “Oh, shit. What time is it?” She looks at Jon’s phone. “Get your shirt on, we need to FaceTime the kids!” Jon heads to his luggage and quickly pulls out two Hawks shirts. He starts to FaceTime and Bekah looks at her now sexed looking hair and quickly braids it to the side just in time.

“Hey guys!” Jon waves at the screen seeing Brynn, Lincoln and Scarlett sitting on the couch. Bekah notices Brynn’s face with Lincoln asked what they have done since they got there and Jon talked about getting to the hotel and checking in. The family talked for a little and said their goodbyes. Jon gets up to head to the shower and looks back.

“J’ai besoin de nous.” Bekah whispers just looking at the floor.

“Babe, did you just say I need us?” Jon comes back over and pulls her up to his chest.

“Yeah. That’s right, right?” Bekah bats her eyes.

“It is. You are picking up more French from my mom’s FaceTime lessons with Lincoln aren’t you?” Jon kisses her cheek and she feels the heat rushing to them.

“Yeah. Speaking of, he said, ‘j’ai mon voyage’ and also ‘tabarnak’ the other day.” Jon starts laughing. Hard. “Shit, what did he pick up?”

“Well, I had enough is basically what j’ai mon voyage means and...as for the other. I’ll talk to my parents. I’m sure they didn’t mean to teach him what some deem a cuss word.” Bekah’s mouth hangs open. “Babe, I’ll fix it, okay?” He moves her braid and kisses her again. “Back to the I need us. Explain.”

“Just that. I need us. I love our family and our life and even this team but at the end of the day it’s me and you.” She spins her ring around her finger.

“Well, Beks... J’ai besoin de nous too.” Jon whispers. “I told you hockey is almost over and then it’s just us being parents and husband and wife.”

“You really think you are done Tae?” Bekah questions.

“Yeah. Dach is ready to be captain. I have four rings. Kaner and I are talking about going out together. This team has what it takes to win another one too. Now, I would love baby number three to experience some of this hockey life.” Jon rubs Bekah’s lower abdomen.

“Are you asking if you think that got me pregnant?” Bekah laughs and Jon nods. “Well, you might have to try harder Mr. Toews.” She smirks and heads towards the shower. “And if so... I’m not naming the baby Louis!”

“Death of me Beks. You will be the death of me!” Jon scoops Bekah up and heads towards the shower.

#jonathan toews fic #tazer me 19 #love a damn blackhawk 🤦🏻‍♀️#j toews #What's in a name fic #WIAN epilogue #finally letting it out #maybe more to come

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procrastinatorimagines · 5 years ago

Text

Could Have Been More Part 5 (Final)

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Series: Could Have Been More

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 (Final)

Characters: Hank Voight x Reader,

Warning/s: kidnapping/assault

Word Count: 3,298

Summary: So you’ve had your heart broken, accidentally derailed a police investigation, allowed a mass murderer to escape and now? Now you were bound and gagged and tossed in the back of a van, but Voight would get to you in time, right?

This was, without a doubt, the worst place you’d ever woken up, and you’d had a pretty interesting college experience. Your head felt like it was weighed down with cement as you tried to sit up, your wrists and ankles chafing and straining against rope ties. You weren’t tied down to anything specifically, but once your eyes focused more you realised that that wasn’t necessary, the man with the gun sat on a crate in the corner provided plenty of incentive for you not to try anything.

“Nice and slow,” he warned like you could actually do anything but that as you struggled to get into a sitting position, resting your back on the van wall as your head pounded in time to the bumps of the tires below, vibrating the whole van as you drove along.

There was another figure in the van too, you realised, a woman tied up opposite you, masses of red curls and an old punk rock tee... Jenny.

You tried to call out to her, only to find your mouth taped shut, so it came out as a desperate throaty cry, unable to do much else as she lay unmoving. Trying to steady your thundering heart you focused on her chest, letting out a small sigh of relief as you watched it rise and fall, albeit at a much slower rate than it should. They must have done a number on her, you thought, remembering the phone call with a shudder.

But Strauss couldn’t have grabbed you and her at the exact same time... You looked back to the man with the gun, your mind still foggy, but clear enough for you to realise that duh, this van needed a driver too. Strauss wasn’t working alone - did Intelligence know that?

This man was most definitely Strauss, you recognised the salt and pepper beard and bald head from his photo. So who was driving? Not that knowing right now would have done you any good, you kind of had bigger and more immediate things to worry about. You prayed to God or whoever was out there that this van was the vehicle Hank had been on the phone to Trudy about, because if it wasn’t...

“If I take that ducktape off, will you scream?” Strauss asked, making his way over to you slowly as the van drove along, gun still very much pointed at your head. You didn’t reply. “Screaming won’t help you right now, trust me,” the way he said it was very much a threat, so you slowly nodded, terrified. He smiled sinisterly and removed the tape slowly.

You took a deep breath out your mouth but refrained from screaming, instead, you kicked into autopilot, so overwhelmed with fear and not knowing what to do that you focused on what you could. “I’m a paramedic,” you told him straight away, “I won’t try and fight you or anything, but if you could untie my hands I could check my friend, make sure she’s okay,” you told him, your tone less shaky and more professional than you’d anticipated.

Strauss blinked, clearly not expecting that reaction, and glanced back to where Jenny lay, barely stirring by his feet. He gave her a harsh nudge with his foot that had your blood boiling but you held back, you were not good to Jenny dead or incapacitated yourself. Jenny stirred slightly and Strauss shrugged. “Seems fine to me,” he commented coldly.

“Is that your professional medical opinion?” You snapped, regreting it instantly as he regarded you like a predator did its prey.

“Why do you think I care if she makes it out of this alive?” He asked and you swallowed, the images of the his victims flashing through your mind.

“Well you didn’t kill her straight away, or me, seems like you need us alive,” you replied, remembering how quickly he’d apparently dispatched of his other loose ends - why had he spared you both?

Strauss laughed as you turned a corner, leaning his hand on the side for balance as the roads got a bit rougher; you must be off the main road now, you thought - where was he taking you?

“Well aren’t you a clever one?” He smirked, “and you’re right, I do need you alive, but only one of you, and if I’m honest, if I had to choose between the Sergeant’s girl or the nosy waitress...” he gestured with his gun between the two of you and you grimaced, this guy was pure evil.

He let you figure out the rest of that sentence as he moved to sit back on the crate he had been perched previously, the logo of the restaurant clear on the side - this must have been one of their delivery vans, not a particularly smart move if you’re trying to avoid the police.

“What do you want?” You demanded, struggling against the ropes around your wrists as you glared at him. He knew about you and Voight, which was not good, so you’d already figured that you were leverage, but to what end?

The van started to slow before Strauss could reply, a slow smile spreading across his face as the drivers door could be heard opening. You could hear birds and... water maybe just before the door shut again, but when the back opened and another man came in, you were sure you were by the docks.

This man was... younger definitely, but the resemblance to Strauss was uncanny. You’d remembered from Voight’s file that he’d had a son, Dan? Dom? You couldn’t quite remember his name, but he’d previously dated the dead waitress before she’d started dating the first victim.

This wasn’t good.

“Do we call him now?” Asked... Dan, you were sure it was Dan. Dan looked to his father, gun in the waste band of his low jeans clear. You pulled at your ropes again, feeling them loosening a little as you looked on at the two men. Were they talking about Voight? You had a sinking feeling that they were.

“Call him here, yes, but we move on straight away, before they can track our location,” Strauss told his son, who passed his father an old flip phone, a burner.

“Why bother? You could have been out the state by now,” you dared, confused as to why they would dare incur the wrath of Intelligence rather than make a break for it while they still could. You kind of got the previous murders, in the sick sense that they were they only ones who could testify against him, but taking you and Jenny was a big risk.

“Yeah if your boyfriend hadn’t flagged our passports and put our faces out at every border-” Dan complained but his father cut him off quickly, scolding him like a child, you actually winced when Strauss’ hand came into contact with his sons face, silencing him quickly.

“Shut up,” he hissed and Dan cowered back, kid had probably faced that his entire life, you actually felt a little bad for him.

Strauss rubbed his temple before flipping open the phone and dialing a number, your heart quickening when Voight answered.

“Hello Sergeant,” Strauss greeted him way to cheerily as you heard Hank growl on the other end of the line.

“Where is she?” He demanded, word clearly reaching him about you and his officers, you didn’t even know if they were still alive you realised.

“Right here with me,” Strauss replied, kneeling down to head height and grabbing a bunch of your hair in his hand roughly so that you faced him. “Say hi Y/N,”

You met his eyes and kept your lips firmly closed, you could barely even hear Hank breathing on the other end of the line as he waited for you to answer. Strauss got impatient and pulled your hair back violently, letting go so your head smacked against the side of the van, hard. You cried out at the impact and Hank swore over the phone as Strauss stood back up, satisfied as you held back tears.

“See, she’s here, and alive,” he said, “if you want her to stay that way you’ll do exactly as I say.” You swallowed hard as he paused for dramatic effect, God this guy was pure evil.

“What do you want?” Voight demanded, violent anger coating every word. If you were being entirely honest, you okay with how Voight did his job sometimes, but he could do what ever he wanted to this son of a bitch, he deserved it.

“I want a chopper, I have a license so I don’t need a pilot, but I want to get out of the city, and I don’t want to be followed,” he replied and you couldn’t quite believe your ears, he couldn’t be serious could he? That would never work, he must have been desperate.

“Done, should I call this number when I have it?” Hank told him quickly and you bit your tongue, nothing you could say would sway Voight’s decisions, he’d go to the ends of the Earth for people he cared about. Your restraints were getting a little bit looser as he kept talking, but you did your best to school your expression, not wanting to give anything away.

“Excellent, but no, I’m not that stupid, I’ll call you in 20 minutes,” he told Hank, actually believing a chopper could be brought to him in 20 minutes. You heard Hank sigh on the other end, thinking the same as you.

“I’ll do my best but I’ll need more time than that-” Hank tried but Strauss hung up, checking his watch as he did and you realised he’d been timing the call, not wanting to be traced.

“Destroy it and then get going to the next location” Strauss ordered his son, the rope around your wrists slacking enough so that you could slip your hands free. Strauss seemed to arrogant to not have tied them properly, Dan must have done them, you realised.

Dan nodeed as Strauss tossed the phone, barely catching it as he took out the sim and broke it all, opening the back to get back to the drivers side as you saw your window of opportunity.

As soon as the door opened and Strauss turned his back to take his seat again, you lunged for the door, arms out as you threw yourself at Dan. He lost his balance and you toppled sideways, but not out the door, crashing into the cold metal as he frantically pushed you away from him.

Strauss was on you in seconds, dragging you back with force and flipping you onto your stomach, roughly pulling your hands behind your back as you struggled in his grasp. He was able to retie your rope and snapped at Dan to keep going, an order which he shakily obeyed as he jumped out, slamming the door tight.

“You stupid bitch, did you think any of that through?” He snarled as he haulled you up, slamming you back and punching you in the gut before throwing you to the ground where you had previously been sat.

You only glared in reply as he muttered more sexist insults, the van driving off a few seconds later.

Taking a breath you looked to Jenny, watching her chest slowly rising and falling, her face paler than before. Let him think you had been stupid, a last ditch effort to escape, better that than know the truth. You’d never leave Jenny like this, or anyone, and you knew you wouldn’t have got far if you’d have gotten out, but that hadn’t been your plan. Resisting the urge to metaphorically pat yourself on the back you were conscious of the weight that was no longer around your neck.

You’d thrown your necklace outside the van. The necklace that Hank had bought you for your birthday.

They wouldn’t have had a specific location for that call, and you’d seen multiple vans parked outside at this spot of the docks, but they’d definitely be coming to this area, and hopefully your necklace would put them on the right track, at least in terms of checking surveillance.

Or at least, that was your hope, but you didn’t have anything else, Jenny certainly didn’t.

The noises around you changed as you drove, Strauss keeping his gun permanently trained on you now as the bird tweets turned to dog barks and the van took more turns. Based on Strauss’ history, you could probably guess the general area you were heading now, his old neighbourhoods.

You didn’t quite get how a well of white man had ended up running drugs on this side of town, but you figured that that was the point, he’d been able build himself up because no one was looking for him, but everyone was looking now.

He was out of moves, and he was desperate. Hank would never give him a chopper, you knew that, you just hoped he had another play. It was Hank, when did he not, you told yourself as you turned yet again, sharper this time as Strauss rolled his eyes at his son’s driving.

Soon, 20 minutes was up, and you held your breath as the car turned one last time and slowed to a stop. There was a look on Strauss’ face now that scared you more than the others, what was his real plan here?

He pulled out a second burner and called Voight: “Times up Sergeant, for you and your girl if you don’t give me what I want,” he informed Hank as you swallowed.

“I’m not the one whose time’s up,” was Voight’s only reply. Strauss’ face was one of confusion until your heard it, the blessed sound of police sirens, Hank was coming for you.

Strauss dropped the phone in shock as you heard the drivers side door open, and the clear sound of police arresting Dan. Strauss panicked, glancing at you as he pulled out a knife.

Your heart was hammering, thinking he was going to kill you, but instead he cut the ropes around your ankles, throwing his knife away and pulling out his gun, dragging you to your feet as you heard boots surround the van.

“Albert Strauss, we have you surrounded, come out with your hands up and surrender. It’s over,” you heard Hank radio from outside as Strauss put a gun to your head.

“It’s not over yet,” you heard him mutter as he forced you to go forward, Jenny stirring finally at your side as he ignores her. At least she’d make it, you thought as he opened the back doors.

Swat was stood at the ready outside, but Hank made them hold their positions when he saw you.

“Let her go,” he instructed Strauss, not a question or suggest, he was going to let you go. You saw Hank’s gun at his side, finger iching against the trigger as he levelled his gaze at Strauss, his gun firmly planted next to your temple.

You saw the rest of Intelligence too, guns at the ready as Atwater led Dan to a squad car, cuffs on, but Strauss didn’t seem to care.

“Hank-” you tried, voice filled with fear as Hank’s eyes landed on you, face softening and filled with worry.

“Shut up,” Strauss spat, tightening his grip on you before directing his attention to Hank, “I’ll kill her,” he informed him, no hint of remorse in his voice.

In the distance where Atwater was taking Dan, you could see ambo 61 pulling up, Sylvie jumping out before it had even fully stopped as she watched the scene unfold.

“You kill her, you die,” Hank told him plainly, “the only way for you to get out of this is to come quietly, hand her over.” Hank knew it, you knew it, Strauss knew it, there was no way out now, it would all be decided now.

You kept looking at Hank, thinking about eveything you never got to do, the rest of your life that you wanted to lead, you didn’t want it to end here.

Voight’s knuckles were white gripping his gun as Strauss pondered what had been said. “I’ll never see daylight again,” he told Hank, “my life’s already over, you made sure of that, but at least this way I get to ruin yours now too.”

He was going to kill you, you realised quickly as your eyes went wide. Then, the sound of a gun shot.

It all happened so fast you didn’t know what had happened, but you knew enough to know that if you were still thinking right now, you weren’t the one who’d been shot as you fell forward, hands catching you at the last second as you tripped out the back of the van.

Strong arms lowered you to your feet slowly as you shook, the side of your face wet with... blood, but it wasn’t yours, you realised. Someone was holding you, asking you if you were okay you realised through the ringing of your ears. It was Hank. Hank was here, he had you.

Looking back a little you saw Strauss on his back in the van, a bullet from Hank’s gun embedded in his head.

Everyone around you was moving, securing the scene and letting the paramedics through.

“Hank...” you mumbled, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“It’s okay Y/N, you’re okay now,” he whispered, one hand on your shoulder, the other on your cheek, looking you over for signs of damage as you tried to breath.

Sylvie reached you quickly, face full of relief as Ruzek helped her into the van, Jenny was getting the help she needed. Good, you thought, still a little disoriented.

“Y/N,” Hank repeated, bringing you back to reality.

“How did you find me?” You asked him as he reached into his pocket, pulling out your necklace, your plan had worked.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” He smiled with relief.

“I thought-” you choked and he shook his head, pulling you into a hug as tears slipped down your cheeks as you realised just how close you came to dying.

“I know, but you’re alive,” he reassured you as Jenny was brought out on a backboard

“Is she?...” You asked quickly, breaking away from Hank. Sylvie smiled.

“She’ll be okay,” she informed you, squeezing your hand, “I’m just so glad you are too,” she said, her voice cracking.

“What, did you think I was going to leave you with Chout?” You tried to smile, actually laughing when Chout said ‘hey!’ Despite everything, if felt like your chest was cracking to do so. With one last look, Sylvie reluctantly headed back to the ambo, promising to check up with you as soon as she could.

Hank hadn’t left your side yet, and you realised that he was holding your hand, in public. You looked down at your hands and then back at him, so relieved that he’d come for you, not that you’d ever doubted it.

“Hank-” you started, not sure what you were actually going to say, but needing to say something.

And then he kissed you, in full view of everybody. You could tell it got a bit quieter around you as he pulled away, as surprised by what he did as you were. “I nearly lost you today, I don’t ever want to lose you again,” he told you honestly, raw emotion for the first time as he held you in his arms, “I love you.”

You swallowed and took a shaky breath, still processing everything else that had happened today, but one thing was very clear, no matter what came next, you didn’t want to lose him either.

“I love you too,” you said.

#hank voight #chicago pd #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight imagine #chicago pd imagine #hank voight imagines #chicago pd imagines #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #could have been more

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stormfall1327 · 4 years ago

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My half of an art for fic trade with the amazing @newvegasorbust! I hope I did your V as much justice as you did mine! By the way, the plot was completely their idea. I only put it into words. <3 Thank you so much for this trade! Your ideas got me out of a writing rut and your art is incredible! If you haven’t seen the art, check out thier blog or my previous post! You can also find the fic here on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29916810

‘Til the End

Fluff, Angst, Smut, Fem!V/Vik, Nomad V

The sun is beginning to set as V makes her way down the steps to Vik’s clinic. It’s a Thursday night like any other, a meeting of friends to watch old boxing re-runs over a beer (or three). They started this tradition a few months ago after V showed more than a passing interest during one of Vik’s stories about the good ‘ol days. In truth, she couldn’t care less about boxing, but she’d take any excuse to spend more time with the ripperdoc, regardless of what they were doing.

Sliding open the metal gates, she gives Vik a wave and a warm smile and heads back to the worn leather couch to settle in for tonight’s match, letting him finish whatever it is he’s working on. A few minutes later, he rounds the corner and plops down on the couch next to her with a sigh, handing over one of the beers he was carrying.

“Long day?,” V asks as she gratefully accepts the beer and takes a long pull.

“Eh, wasn’t so bad. Just gettin’ tired of these idiot gonks messing with tech they don’t understand and then bringing it to me to fix. Oh, well. Part of the job, I guess. Day’s better now, at any rate,” he says with a small smile, holding up his bottle to her. Her face flushes pink, wide eyes hidden behind her turquoise shades as she raises her own bottle to clink against his.

“So,” she says a little too loudly, “which match are we watching tonight?”

He stands to bring the screen around and set up the program. “Thought we’d hit something a little more recent tonight. Malone vs Hernandez.” Settling back in beside her as the recording starts, he nudges her shoulder and gestures at the screen with his beer. “Pay close attention, now…”

———

The match is full-swing, Vik sitting on the edge of the cushion, yelling at the screen when V feels her holo buzz. She glances down to see a familiar Aldecaldo logo appear.

Panam’s grainy image flickers to life on the screen. “V! It is good that you answered. I need your help. Again.”

V can’t help but laugh. “Of course, Panam! You know I wouldn’t turn down the chance to go on another crazy adventure with you. So, what grand scheme have you cooked up this time?,” she asks, taking another swig of beer.

Panam chuckles warmly. “No, nothing like that this time. I, well, the clan actually, has need of you and your ripper doctor. The one you always gush about.”

V’s face turns bright red and she whips her head around to look at Vik, eternally grateful that he’s still seemingly engrossed in the fight.

“I do not gush,” she hisses, turning her head back to glare at Panam through the screen.

“He is there with you now, yes?”

“Mhmm. Watchin’ boxing re-runs. Kind of a weekly tradition.”

“But you hate—” Panam’s voice is reduced to muffled nonsense as V covers the holo with her hand and quickly stands, smoothing her down her skirt. “Grabbin’ another beer. Getcha one?,” she asks, not quite pulling Vik’s attention away from the screen. He waves a hand at her. “Nah, I’m good, thanks. But hurry back, now. Don’t wanna miss the knock-out.”

“Back in a flash,” she says, making her way over to the mini-fridge across the room.

Once safely out of earshot, she removes her hand from the holo. “Hey! What the hell was that about?,” Panam calls out. V gives her a look over the top of her glasses. “You’re lucky I like you, Panam Palmer. Now what was it that you needed help with?”

“Oh, right! See, our clan’s ripper, Dusty, is being roped into performing surgery on a goddamn Raffen and his life is on the line, V. He’s out of his depth and well, I was hoping that you and Viktor would come out to the camp to help him out.”

“Shit, why didn’t you say so? ‘Course we’ll come. Vik’s the best ripper in NC. He’ll definitely be able to help. When is Dusty suppose to do this surgery?”

“Thank you, V! I knew I could count on you. He’s starting soon. You’ll need to head here right away. I’ll meet you at the edge of camp.” She gives V a nod and closes the link.

Heading back to couch, V stops when she see Vik staring at her, one eyebrow raised. “So, what was that about?”

“That? Oh, just talking to a friend of mine. Say, how would you like to take a nice ride out to the Badlands?”

Vik’s eyebrow just arches higher.

“So, look… I may have told a clan of Nomads about you and I may have also volunteered you to help perform a surgery at their camp. Tonight,” she adds, giving him a sheepish grin and running a hand through her hair.

He huffs out a laugh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I see. And I’m guessin’ I got no say in the matter?” Not that it would make a difference, he thinks. She has no idea how much she’s wrapped herself around his finger. He’d do damn near anything for her; he couldn’t tell her no.

“You always have a say, Vik. I just figured you’d jump at an opportunity like this. And besides, it’ll be nice to get out of the City for a change.”

“Fine, fine. When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you can pack a bag.”

———

It’s nearing nightfall, the desert wind still hot as it blows in through the open windows of V’s Thorton as they make their way to the Aldecaldo camp. Buckled into the passenger seat, much to his initial annoyance, Vik can’t help but marvel at her driving skills. She’s clearly in her element out here, tearing through the desert like it’s an open stretch of highway rather than a bumpy landscape of sand dunes and cacti. Daring a glance over at her, he sucks in a breath at the sight; wind-blown hair skittering across the tops of her shoulders, the low evening light casting her in an almost ethereal glow. She’s smiling again, fingers tapping out the beat of the song on the radio and damn it, if he doesn’t think she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Out here, away from the crushing oppression of the City, she’s vibrant and free and herself and in that moment, he’s smitten. But given everything she’s told him about her past, about her clan and the ultimate betrayal she endured at the hands of someone so close to her, he promised himself he’d keep things professional, for her sake. She needed someone she could trust and if resigning himself to being her ripper and her friend meant securing that trust, then he’d happily keep his feelings to himself.

He’s shaken from his thoughts as they come to a skidding halt at the edge of the Aldecaldo camp. V is out of the car and grabbing his bag before he even has time to unbuckle his seatbelt. Stepping out, he’s met by V and two others, rounding the hood of the car.

The man grabs his hand in a firm shake and lets out a whistle. “Well, hot damn. Didn’t think she’d actually manage to drag you all the way out here. Pleasure to meetcha. Name’s Mitch. This here’s Panam.” He motions behind him and the woman steps forward to shake his hand, as well. “You must be the famous ripperdoc we’ve heard about. V talks about you all the time. It is nice to meet you, Viktor,” she says with a warm smile. Vik laughs, the tips of his ears burning, and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Heh, I dunno about famous, but please, it’s, uh, just Vik.”

“Well, Vik, please follow me. You got here just in time.”

Panam leads the way through the camp, V falling in step with Vik as they make their way to Dusty’s makeshift clinic. Climbing the steps, she places a hand on his shoulder to get his attention and mouths a silent, “Thank you,” offering him a small smile as she hands over his bag which he returns with a nod and a smile of his own. Panam introduces the pair and Vik immediately sets to work, his naturally calm demeanor working wonders on Dusty’s nerves as they discuss the details of the surgery and begin to prep for the Raffen’s arrival.

Panam loops her arm through V’s and clears her throat to get the mens’ attention. “Well, it seems like everything is under control here. We will leave you to it. Good luck!,” she calls, dragging V down the stairs with her.

“Hey! Where are we goin’? What if they need help?”

“You did say that Viktor is the best ripper in Night City, yes? They will be fine, V. Let us go sit by the fire while they work.”

Still holding onto V’s arm, she nudges her toward a log in front of the now sizable campfire and takes a seat beside her.

“So… You do plan to spend some time out here with Viktor tonight, yes?,” she asks, nudging V’s shoulder with her own.

The sounds of Saul arriving with the Raffen echo through the camp.

“I, uh, hadn’t really thought about it,” V says, eyes darting to the ripper’s tent as the man of the hour is hauled onto the operating chair. That was a lie and they both knew it.

“I see. Well, should you decide to give it some thought, there’s a little spot north of here with a great view of the stars. Your man could probably use some… relaxation after this.” Panam waggles her eyebrows and laughs, ducking out of the way of V’s arm as she playfully throws a punch in her direction. She knows exactly the place.

“He’s not my man, Panam. He’s just a friend. A damn good one, at that.” Her words are confident, bolstered by her own laugh, but when she looks over to the tent and sees him, completely in his element and patiently guiding Dusty through the procedure, she falters, her laugh fading away on the soft desert breeze.

“You keep telling yourself that, V,” Panam says as she stands and stretches. “Listen, I have some things I need to take care of around camp. By the looks of things, they should be finished soon. Think about what I said, yeah?” Giving V’s shoulder a squeeze, she heads off into the night.

“Christ, V, if you don’t say somethin’ to him, I will. These mushy puppy-dog eyes make me wanna puke. Hell, even Panam sees it and she’s more oblivious to that shit than you are.” Right on cue, Johnny materializes beside her and lights up a cigarette.

Of all the times… “Can it, Johnny.”

“I’m being serious, V. We both know you’re runnin’ short on time. You just gotta decide if you’re gonna grow some balls and actually do something about it before that clock runs out.”

Her retort died on her tongue. He was right, of course.

“So help me, Johnny, if you show up in the middle of-”

“Easy, killer. I’ll leave you two alone. Scout’s honor.” He lifts his arm in mock salute and winks, blinking out of sight as Vik walks over to stand in front of the fire.

V stands to join him, running a hand through her hair as she tries to keep her cool.

“That was faster than I expected. Everything went well, I take it?”

“Eh, he’ll be fine. Dusty’s a good kid. He doesn’t give himself enough credit; just needed a little coaching, is all. Barely had to get my hands dirty,” he says with a warm smile.

“I’m glad to hear it. I know they’re grateful for your help. And so am I. You didn’t have to come all the way out here to help a group of strangers in the middle of the night.”

“You honestly think I’d turn y- uh, this down?” Her heart skips a beat. “I haven’t been out of the city in years. Plus, the view is incredible,” he says, glancing up at the sky. V seizes the opportunity.

“If you think the view is great here, you should see it from the cliffs. They’re not far, if you want to go. That is, I just figured since we’re out here already-”

“I’d love to.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and grins. “Great! You’re gonna love it.”

———

Ten minutes later, V drives the Thorton up over the last rise of the cliff and slows to a stop, heart thundering in her chest. She hopes he doesn’t notice the tremor in her hands as she turns off the ignition and jumps down onto the red rock below. She meets Vik at the front of the car and leads him up a small incline along the rock face, stopping when she reaches a familiar outcropping of stone. “We’re here,” she whispers.

Leaning back against the rocks, still warm from the sun, Vik lets out a low whistle. “Can’t remember the last time I saw stars like this. It’s a damn shame, really.”

“Probably what I miss the most,” she muses, pocketing her turquoise shades and staring up into the sky.

“Would you ever go back? To living as a Nomad, I mean. The Aldecaldos seem fond of you.”

“Nah. As much as I sometimes hate this city for all the ways it’s fucked me over…” Her hand drifts subconsciously to her neck, fingers idly tracing over the chip slot behind her ear. “There’s too much I’d be givin’ up if I just left. Too many people I’d be leavin’ behind.” He nods in understanding but doesn’t respond.

The silence stretches between them for what feels like an eternity.

“Konpeki.”

“Huh?”

She huffs out a breath. “Konpeki Plaza. The… heist for the Relic. That was the last time I saw Jackie alive and all we did was fight. God, I was so mad at him, actin’ like we were going on a damn picnic instead of stickin’ our necks out for that low-life DeShawn. Then after we got blasted, I yelled at him, Vik. He was bleedin’ out and I fuckin’ yelled at him, blaming him for Bug’s death and for getting us in that mess in the first place. It was wrong and it was awful, but I was so angry. And then he died, right next to me, and there was nothing I could do. He died before I could apologize or even say goodbye. Before he knew how much he meant to me.” She reaches up with a shaky hand and wipes a tear from her face.

Vik lets out a breath and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “V… I still have nightmares about those ‘Sake bastards breaking to my fucking clinic and taking Jack’s body right out from under me. I shoulda stopped them. I shoulda fought back. But I was pinned to the floor with a gun to my head and I… I was a coward, V. I let ‘em take him and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish things had turned out differently. That I was stronger. That I’d done more.”

She reaches out to him then and closes her trembling fingers around his own, heart clenching when she feels his hand tighten against her grip.

“It’s not your fault,” she says softly as another tear rolls down her cheek.

“After I died and you told me about the chip, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get close to anyone else without all the cards being on the table. I wanted everything to be up front with no room for guessing or regrets. Panam and Judy are some of the best friends I’ve ever had because of that. But there’s still one person I’ve been holding back from.”

She glances up and meets Vik’s gaze and steadies herself with a breath before turning to face him and reaching for his other hand.

“Vik, I… I just need to you know that I care about you, a lot. I know my time is short, but whatever happens with the Relic, I want you to be part of my life. I’m so damn scared of losing you and I-”

Vik reaches a hand up to cup her cheek and her words catch in her throat.

“V, when I saw, firsthand, the lengths Arasaka would go to recover their “assets”… part of my nightmares were them stealing you, too. Taking you away from me. I’m already powerless to stop whatever’s goin’ on inside your head and that kills me every damn day. I don’t want to lose you.”

She pulls her hand away from his and runs her thumb over his cheekbone.

“Then don’t,” she whispers.

Before V even realizes what’s happening, Vik’s hands are tangled in her hair and his lips are crushed against hers, months of pent up emotion flooding into every movement of his lips and tongue, nearly overwhelming her. She meets him with equal fervor, hands roaming over his chest, kneading the taut muscles with her fingers and enjoying the rumbling groan that she can feel more than hear. She works the buttons of his over-shirt free and pushes it off of his shoulders, moaning into his mouth as she runs her hands over his bare arms, muscles flexing under her touch.

Vik returns the favor, divesting V of her jacket as he breaks the kiss to lick and nip his way down the column of her throat. A shiver races down her spine and she tugs the hem of his tank from his pants, sliding her hands under the fabric to feel his skin. She rolls his nipples between her fingers and he bucks against her, erection straining against the front of his pants and a fresh wave of arousal pools between her legs.

Bracing her hands against his shoulders, she pushes him back, just enough to pull his shirt over his head, before pulling him back into another heated kiss. He’s surprising adept with her corset, undoing it in a matter of moments. Her nipples barely have a moment to react to the cool night air before he pulls one into his mouth, assaulting it with tongue and teeth while the other is pinched and pulled by his skilled fingers. The sensation is too much and V leans against the cliff for support, the rough face of the rock a heady contrast to the slick feel of Vik’s tongue on her breast.

He drops to his knees to place hot, open-mouthed kisses down her belly, hands skimming down her sides to toy with the top of her skirt. He looks up at her then, eyes seeking permission, and all she can do is nod. With a smirk, he pulls her skirt and panties down her legs, nostrils flaring as he catches the scent of her arousal. He braces his left hand on her stomach and slides the tip of his finger back and forth along her soaking cunt, leaning back on his heels to see her. Her head is thrown back, bottom lip caught in her teeth, and a thin sheen of sweat coats her skin. Her heaving chest accentuates her tattoo, the snake wrapped around her breast almost seeming alive as it moves with her breathing.

He pulls his finger away and V whimpers above him.

“Patience,” he grumbles before pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

In one smooth motion, Vik slides his finger into her and wraps his tongue around her clit. V arches off the rock, a harsh moan tearing from her throat as every nerve in her body catches fire. She bucks her hips forward, desperate for more. He adds a second finger, pushing deeper into her heat and hooking his fingers, catapulting V closer to the edge. A few more strokes of his tongue and she’s flying, orgasm soaring through her body as she shakes against the cliff face, Vik’s hand on her stomach the only thing keeping her grounded. He coaxes her through her high before slowly withdrawing his fingers.

“Christ, you’re gorgeous when you cum,” he mutters against her skin.

“Let me return the favor,” she says, running her fingers through his hair. He stands with a grunt and she leans up to kiss him, moaning as he tastes herself on his tongue. She reaches down to undo his pants, palming his dick with an appreciative sigh before sliding them down his hips. He moans as his aching cock springs free and watches as she rearranges their discarded clothes, forming a makeshift blanket on the ground. She sweeps her arm out, gesturing at the pile with a grin. “After you.”

He walks over, lowering himself to the ground and splaying out on his back. V climbs over him, rubbing her wet folds across the length of his dick and drawing a deep groan from his throat. She reaches down, giving him a few languid pumps before lining him up with her entrance.

“I don’t want to lose you, Viktor,” she says, voice shaking as she stares into his eyes.

“Then don’t,” he echoes, grabbing her hips and pushing her down on his length. They moan in unison, finally feeling completed, finally feeling whole. V sets a wicked pace, riding Vik into the sandstone as their sounds of pleasure echo across the Badlands.

The stuttering in his hips tells V he’s close. She’s close, too, that familiar flame lapping at her spine. His head has fallen to the side, but she grabs his chin and forces him to look at her.

“I want you to see stars,” she breathes, angling his head up to the sky. She bears down, her walls clamping hard around him and within a few strokes, he’s shouting at the stars as wave after wave of pleasure shoots through his body. She’s not far behind, crying out in relief as her orgasm crests, riding out her release on his twitching cock.

As their breathing slows, V rolls off of him and snuggles into his side, sighing contentedly when his arm wraps around her waist. They lie there silently for a time, watching the stars sparkle overhead.

“You know I’m here for you, right? Even if I can’t stop the Relic, I’ll always be here to help you, any way I can.”

“I’m here for you, too. ’Til the end.”

He pulls her close and presses a kiss to her forehead. “’Til the end.”

#art for fic trade #my writing #v/vik #viktor vektor #Viktor Vector #Victor Vector #nomad v

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sanstropfremir · 4 years ago

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kingdom episode 3 baby!!!!

listen. i’m not gonna lie i was nervous as hell for this episode. i saw that preview like everyone else and unfortunately i have ears so i was convinced the ateez stage was going to be a trainwreck. i was absolutely banking on sf9 and skz to do something even mildy interesting to save me from the ear damage and having to talk to extensively about why that disaster happened. but somehow i woke up in an alternate universe and you know what? with the exception of that high note the ateez stage fucked. i know. i don’t believe it either. i think i’m still in shock.

i’ll do individual breakdowns in order of favourites within the episode and then at the end i’ll put my personal ranking of all six. thank god i don’t have to do a stage breakdown again; if they change it again for next week i will scream.

ateez

a miracle happened. i don’t have to fight any of the staff at kq. i don’t understand either. jongho is so fucking lucky that the rest of the group pulled all that energy out of their asses because if they had been even a single iota less serious about it that stage would have flopped worse than a dead fish. i can’t believe we got this level of camp b movie schlock in the first full stage, and they stuck the landing. incredible.

fine i’ll address the elephant in the room. personally, i don’t think jongho is that good of a vocalist. he’s not bad, and he does have the potential to be a good vocalist, he just doesn’t have the training, and this is the issue with all of ateez. hanya talked about this before and i’ll say it again: he can’t switch to his head voice and he’s destroying his vocal cords by attempting to hit notes in his mid range that he should just jump to head voice for. frankly i’m surprised he got anywhere close to that note in his mid, but his technique is just not there and he’s gonna do some real damage to his voice if he doesn’t take a break and also get a good vocal coach. you can already hear the degradation in sound from their debut stage to now, and that’s in less than three years. ok i’m done talking about vocals that’s hanya’s turf, i’m pretending that that high note doesn’t exist and we’re moving on. also im in love with btob’s reaction it was fucking priceless.

costume

look, i have a one track brain and that brain can only think about seonghwa corset. seonghwa corset? seonghwa corset.

i know it’s not a real corset nor is it properly laced and i know this would never happen in a million years but a kpop mr pearl trend? i would die. just fully expire. there’s no coming back from that for me

yes i have laced boys into proper corsets before and yes it is as hot as you think it is (when it’s not work related, obviously)

ok now that i’ve got that out of my system for the moment, the costumes are actually pretty good. i’m a little obsessed with hongjoong’s coat although I know it’s stupid. fur? always, I love it, you’ll never change my mind it makes everything better. i own a lot of it and i wear it all the time. this is also a pretty good example of how to do a more modern styling within a very specific and recognizable genre.

i don’t hate the backup dancers’ costumes either, even though they would look a lot better in a not-pirate themed hiphop stage. because there is already a modern tint with the boys’ costumes, it’s not that much of a leap to the dancers, and they actually use the dancers and the camera really strategically to not put much focus on them.

the only real standout issue is the blacklight/contortionist moment, which is too gimmicky for me and doesn’t fit the rest of the theme. i do understand the purpose of them: you need a transition point from the upper deck to the more fantastical inner ship area, and blacklight paint is a really easy, cheap, and fast way to get four new costumes instantly. do i think they could have done something better though? yes.

set

this was actually a smart reuse of that pirate ship set. i know i clowned on them in the first stage that they could move on from the pirate gimmick but honestly? i’m glad they didn’t. this was fun as fuck. but also two stages was enough you can move on now.

i love how they actually used the weird double stage function that the false prosc creates for an actual architectural and narrative effect, instead of just sort of operating as though it’s just another place to travel just because you can. we are on the deck of the ship, and then we go inside the ship. it’s simple and effective. you don’t need to do a crazy amount of crossover to establish a dynamic sense of place.

i hate the ateez kingdom logo. i hate the ateez logo in general. get it out of there, at least you could have made something more fun and pirate themed.

would have loved to have seen them return to the hourglass at the end, especially if they got one that was specifically set for 4 minutes. would have been a nice bit of symmetry but i suspect it was struck before the kraken bit.

the kraken bit??? i was not at all expecting that and honestly? dope as hell. that big tentacle is just a custom inflatable santa claus that you see around christmastime and what a brilliant use of such a simple mechanic, especially to have it come through that weird little triangle arch they have upstage. smart way to use the existing architecture.

yes it is a gimmick but here’s why it works rather than just looks tacky like every other gimmick we’ve seen so far: it had a function within the narrative. this is so important. show us there’s a reason it’s there!

lighting

i didn’t love it but they did actually make some smart choices. the outer deck is warmer toned and has some good atmospheric effects, and the inner deck is cold tone and specifically lit with pin lights to imitate the light coming through portholes in an actual ship, which is so smart thank you lighting designer

also a very clear arc with the lighting, blue -> orange -> blue/red -> orange/multiple -> blue

sound

i actually kinda liked this remix? it fit theme and had a very clear dramatic arc. also i like wonderland, so sue me.

staging

WE DID IT, WE FINALLY GOT A CLEAR NARRATIVE FROM AT LEAST ONE GROUP! wonderland was actually a great choice for them because it’s a really good indicator of exactly how hungry they are. i was a bit worried that it would fall flat because it kinda rides on mingi but they actually pulled it off. i have literally no idea where they pulled all that energy from but holy shit you can practically lick the attitude off the screen. i’m also very impressed by the amount of information they managed to fit into that four minute narrative. we had a full conflict/climax/resolution, as well as a really clear understanding of the tenacity and drive of the group, as well as the desire to support one another in achieving their goals. bravo.

ok so like i said in the set section, they used that pirate ship bridge really effectively to create two different but connected spaces. this is a really smart way to make it seem like you have two spaces while having to only build one set. it was also one of the best ways to utilize this dumbass stage so it doesn’t just look like you’re running arbitrarily from area to area because you can.

also levels! levels are so important for staging but also hard to do in this context because you have to be able to move really quickly in and out of full group formation, but I think they did a really good job here.

continued point: the kraken arm worked because it was the conflict they needed to overcome in the narrative, so it had a function within the performance. also related: all the tricking and jumping also served a purpose within the narrative too. it was either used for fighting (yeosang kicking all those dancers on beat) or a demonstration of teamwork (jongho flinging yunho around on the floor). also frankly excellent use of choreographic formation with the backup dancers, each formation had a specific function and was meant to highlight ateez without being overbearing.

not a whole lot of camera choreo, but a fairly good long take at the beginning and the editing wasn’t too obnoxious which I think was more chance than intent, but i’m not gonna look a gift kraken in the beak.

sf9

i actually really liked this stage, and i really like that sf9 has established their colour as effortlessly elegant, which does set them apart from the rest of the groups. this stage was really choreographically complex and they made it seem so easy, so real props to them. however, like with ikon’s stage, there were a lot of good ideas that just weren’t followed through enough for me.

like ateez, song choice and theme were very well intertwined with this one, there was a lot of thought put into this stage. the pun with ‘jealous’ and ‘jilleosseo’ and having a fairytale/magic mirror narrative? fuckin GALAXY BRAINED. incredible. the implication that not only taeyang but the entire group is the evil queen from snow white? chef’s kiss. should have committed harder and put one of them in massive cloak à la king taemin mama 2020. instead it was subtle enough to not try to step on ateez’s schlocky camp toes but still just as serious and i love that. do i wish they pushed it farther though? also yes.

costume

not gonna lie, i had my reservations on the costumes when we saw the previews of them in the waiting room, but the thing about stage costumes is that they always look bad when not on stage. if they look good in the waiting room you’ve done something wrong. and i loved them on stage. big fan of that quilted vest/pseudo stomacher. please can we have a corset trend? y’all already adopted bondage harnesses, c’mon a little corset won’t hurt. also a good example of a modern spin on a recognizable genre.

i wish the backup dancers weren’t in all black but i am fighting single person battle against the entire entertainment industry on that one.

set

extremely simple with a few smart utilizations. had a feeling this might have been a budget thing, as it had a similar kind of vibe with ikon’s stage, but the use of the mirrors was smart and a fun device that served the purpose of the narrative.

working with mirrors on stage is really fucking hard, so kudos to them for giving it a go. for the most part it was pretty effective. especially with the combo of moving mirrors and moving lights AND moving camera, you’re kind of asking to either blind your audience or at least give them a headache. i once saw a production of the magic flute that had a rotating mirror setpiece and i swear i nearly went blind due to the constantly flashing reflections. you have to really be careful with directionality and reflection, especially with the added element of a camera. also you never use real glass mirrors on stage, it is unbelievably bad luck and theatre people are the most superstitious demographic on the fucking planet.

i kinda loved the draped gold dais. i have nothing else to say about it other than fun!

lighting

a lot of this was very weirdly lit and i’m not sure why. the quality on youtube is terrible and cameras already have trouble picking up detail in low light, and throwing a whole bunch of primary red over that (the colour with the longest wavelength and therefore disappears the easiest in the dark. also human eyes are not very good at distinguishing variations in the red spectrum) and the red costumes made it extremely difficult to tell what was happening.

i will give them props for dramatic lighting usage, especially for the two way mirror trick and for using the floor as a primary lighting source at the end, which i think groups should be using more of. how often do you have a lighting source in your floor!!! almost never!! use that opportunity!!

sound

i actually enjoyed this remix too. it was well suited to the dramatic nature of the stage. i think the sound byte at the beginning is ‘mirror mirror on the wall who’s the worthiest of them all’ but it also could be ‘who’s the worst of them all’ and that would be also fitting and kinda funny.

staging

again, not a lot of consideration for camera choreo in a meaningful way, and like the tbz stage I think the clarity in the actual choreo got hampered by the editing. because there was a lot of choreographic precision that went into making this work and it wasn’t totally obvious from the way mnet edited it.

a lot of them are actors so it works that they’re leaning more towards dramatic stages rather than the sort of performance type stages we’ve seen so far. i like this choice for them as it gives them a very obvious colour but they’re almost on the verge of making it look too easy, which does them some injustice.

next to ateez, using that long uninterrupted traverse was my favourite use of this stage. doubles as an easy way to build the atmosphere of a palace corridor/throne room with the rug, and to feed the drama of the piece.

skz

ok i have some…..things to say about this stage. so far i have not been kind to skz which makes me look like i hate them and i don’t, i promise. there were a lot of really interesting things happening in this stage and there some really successful ones, and i liked this a whole lot better than their intro stage, but their overall choreo and thematic dedication is really killing me. i’ll explain.

costume

I don’t hate them but also…….why? I got the good self vs evil self/internal struggle theme but the costumes don’t really have anything interesting to say about that. as far as modern style costuming goes i think they’re on the more interesting end, but they don’t push it far enough. there’s a few western art history visual motifs and honestly? they should have gone whole hog and whited out their faces/hair and made them look like classical sculptures. that would have been hella fun, especially with that little statue and marionette sequence, plus the shadow/leash manipulation.

this time it was actually intentional that the backup dancers were in blacks and i appreciate that.

why on EARTH did they have that ridiculous makeup that didn’t read on stage? theatre makeup and tv makeup are different, you can’t just do a light purple eyeshadow and expect to read under blue and red light. someone needs to bring an actual theatre makeup artist in and get these boys in some real crazy looks. see previous point about full-face white pancake. more extreme makeup please and thank you!

set

i liked the use of internal architecture within this massive weird stage space and they used the corridors quite well. i didn’t really like the mix of baroque scrolling and also graffiti, it wasn’t quite connected for me. this has been a common theme among this round and i think it comes from budget/props pulls rather than anything else.

also there was a distinct feeling of trying to fill the main stage space with bodies as opposed to atmosphere. this can work in some specific cases but the intent wasn’t strong enough for me. it just felt like a lot of people on stage, especially in the end choreo.

lighting

the general lighting was fine but not particularly inspired. the low light in the beginning was actually quite well done, especially combined with the fog, but in my opinion was not dramatic enough. you have a pseudo art history theme happening, pump that contrast and push the chiaroscuro!

ok stay with me, i’m gonna say something extremely controversial that might actually get me cancelled. s*per j*unior’s burn the floor did everything this stage was trying to do on a smaller scale and better. look i know ok, this is a like, a double atom bomb hot take. just forget everything you know about them and watch the performance video. tell me that’s not some of the most interesting choreo you’ve seen in kpop. if you’re going to work with practical light you need to COMMIT. not just steal the solar lanterns out of my mom’s back garden.

i have a lot of opinions on using practical light and alternate light sources in performance because it’s a huge part of my practice and this just....wasn’t interesting enough for me. push it further!

(I will wait for the subs on the full episode because there has to be a reason they chose that specific shape of lamp. if not i gotta ask jyp why he’s raiding my mom’s garden)

sound

god’s menu has such specific imagery associated within the lyrics and choreography that this stage was a bit dissonant for me. especially when seen in conjunction with two stages where the narrative was tied explicitly to the lyrics of the songs. i think maybe if it hadn’t been grouped with these other two stages i would have felt differently. the other groups chose to do songs were a little more abstract and allowed for more visual experimentation, but to go so blatantly against the food metaphor didn’t really work for me and i had a tough time divorcing the association. I found the arrangement to be a little lacking in energy for me towards the end but otherwise it was pretty interesting.

staging

Definitely a better performance overall that the intro stage. almost all of the gimmicks this time had relevance to the theme which i appreciated. the marionette bit and the shadow/mirror were probably the most interesting but i wish they were better lit.

there was a lot of back and forth in the blocking that made the stage feel repetitive and also aimless? like there wasn’t a very clearly established directionality within the internal space, so it felt like treading over the same ground for no purposeful reason. and again, not a lot of intentional camerawork.

i really liked having the dancers under the big sheet, it fit well enough within the ‘war between internal selves’ theme, but also had a loose tie to the art imagery. again, i really wish they had stuck to a clearer visual theme. it makes them stick out especially in this grouping of stages, but also across all the groups as whole because almost everyone had a clear(ish) visual idea.

holy shit that’s a lot of backup dancers. i don’t really feel like that many were necessary and the sheer number of them took away from the emphasis of the group. with all of the other stages (except for tbz) it was very clear who the centre of attention and emphasis was, and with both skz and tbz they got swallowed by the sheer scale they were trying to operate at. bigger is not always better.

---

this is a tough round to rank because none of these stages are bad, there’s just some that are, in my opinion, more successful than others. all of these stages do very well in specific elements but fall short in others which also makes this ranking difficult. i’m evaluating these based on whether they were successful to me, as i’m pretty sure this ranking will probably not all be popular opinion, but whatever i like to live on the edge.

btob – visuals, vocals, narrative, swords? what more do you want me to say? also i watched the full episode and minhyuk did rehearsal with a real bokken and i think i am in love with him now.

ateez – honestly not sure if i would have ranked this first if that high note hadn’t been a mess. i love camp nonsense and i genuinely think this was a well designed stage. i can’t believe i keep saying that but it’s true.

sf9 – this stage was really solid, just could have been pushed farther. i think it has a really good sense of drama and it’s a pity that sf9’s colour is more subdued, because i think they’re going to be stuck around the 3rd/4th position for the rest of the show.

ikon – ikon is only ranking this high because although i am disappointed in the wasted potential of this stage, they NAILED the camerawork and actually brought in someone to block the steadicam into the choreo. also they’re incredible performers. i say this every time, but their stage presence, although maybe lower energy that they normally would be, is still not to be fucked with.

skz – i think this one is the most ‘meh’ for me. while i liked a lot of the elements here they just didn’t push it far enough and the lack of narrative and general aimless choreo led to me not having any strong feelings yea or nay.

tbz – to be quite honest the lack of costume unity is a big hit for me. all elements of design are equally as important but because of my personal practice and experience i tend to put a lot of weight on good costume and spatial design. i don’t actually like game of thrones also, so I feel mildly offended on behalf of michele clapton, who had did a fucking incredible job and doesn’t deserve to be slandered like this. also the lack of cohesive choreography and the overblown lighting made this difficult to watch, no matter how good i thought the rear projection/stretch fabric dance was.

any questions or opinions you wanna share hit me up! see you next week!

#im ready for the angry asks about that s*ju opinion because that is a spicy one #kingdom #kingdom review #kpop analysis #im so surprised by these stages i cant believe ateez stuck the landing #i saw the preview for next week also and the new round looks wild so im ready #text

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ladyhaesoo · 5 years ago

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hotel blue moon | 2

"What a sight," she said, walking into the room. Waistcoat—ah, she really had to learn his name—turned to watch her. She smiled. "Shame you dropped the waistcoat. I was calling you that in my head."

a/n: no promises for how far i’ll take this i’m afraid, but i’m really digging the concept right now, so! here we are, for now. also i think i’ll be putting this up on ao3 later tonight? i saw that someone had apparently started a tag, so we shall SEE

part 1 | part 3 | read on page (not for mobile app, but it’s prettier)

Eleven AM, Sang Sang-i-Sang headquarters, future planning meeting. The sales of Zombie Kid were not bad—her sales never really are—but the negative reviews and the criticism of the artwork are taking their toll.

Her previous book, The Boy Who Fed on Nightmares, had received some of the same criticism. Why did the witch teach the life lesson? Shouldn't her cruelty be punished, rather than the boy having to stand up to his end of the deal? Why the violence in the artwork? Surely just the mention of nightmares would be enough without the screaming fear in the boy's eyes? The blood-strings had been especially gruesome to one reviewer who had left a scathing 4/10 review. Six for the story, minus two for the art.

She had earlier works that were just a little easier to digest, but as time had passed and the name and title of children's author, Ko Moonyoung, had grown, she had stopped allowing any the publishing house's censorship. Unfortunately, that meant that with every new book, someone or the other took fault with her work.

"Why won't Ko Moonyoung do what the public asks?"

Meetings with Sangin were exhausting because they meant—yes, sure, everyone would suck up to her—and yes, Sangin had absolutely none of what it took to stand up to her, especially regarding decisions on her work (her latest renewed contract had ensured that, though it hadn't been necessary)—but they were tedious. Even if she only stayed ten minutes; it was ten minutes she would rather spend anywhere else.

Today, however, Moonyoung walked into Sangin's horrendous glass palace and found—

Crisp white shirt, definitely silk, sleeves pulled up to elbows—wonderful. Black slacks, pressed. No waistcoat, but you couldn't win them all, and his shoulders were perfectly broad even without the added visual line. Were those—well, gold looking rings holding up a signed copy of The Hand, The Monkfish. Sadly, only the display copy. She would so have loved for him to be a fan.

He smiled—ah, but he was handsome. Almost irritatingly handsome. "You should have told me. I would have dressed to match your expectations."

She fluttered a hand as she sidled closer, almost in his personal bubble, if not quite. "Well, you're not meeting any of my other expectations either. I thought you'd be different, but here we are. How much has he offered you?"

He cocked his head, as if not quite sure what she was aiming at, before he raised a hand, clean bandage wrapped around it. "Oh, you mean to compensate me for getting stabbed? You know, ten million or so. Not much for such a successful children's author."

Her smile froze. "Aren't you the CEO of a hotel or something? What's ten million for a CEO?" They'd had an awkward meeting, manager to manager, the previous day as they were leaving. Sangin had been terribly apologetic, offering his manager, a harried looking man, his card. The manager looked at Waistcoat with the huff of a man who had dealt with too much crap—a look she was intimately familiar with, having been on the receiving end far too often.

Waistcoat had raised his bloody hand. "I got stabbed," he'd said, getting—surprisingly little sympathy. Maybe he did that sort of thing all the time. Maybe he was some kind of masochist? He was certainly pretty enough to tie up.

His manager had apologised for him all the same, and he and Sangin had exchanged dramatic 'you too?' stares as they discovered a kindred spirit. Wow. Moonyoung had seen the card in Sangin's hand later, but hadn't seen his name, only the logo of a hotel she wasn't familiar with.

"But does this method always work?" he asked, putting her book away. "Does it make sure no one sullies your reputation?"

She shrugged. "Verbal consolation is useless. Money is the best."

"Is it really?"

Moonyoung gave him the accusatory wide eyes. "What do you want then? Sex?" Maybe he was some sort of masochist—had she accidentally turned him on by stabbing him? She was about to laugh, when—his eyes followed a path down her legs, then back up, just slow enough, just catching on the end of her skirt, just pausing by her mouth. And just when she thought she was right, and he was in fact a creep, he opened his mouth, and said,

"Is that worth that much?"

She couldn't help the scoff, not after that stare. "Then why are you here? Don't tell me. The hotel isn't doing well? Some advertisement to get your name in the papers? Come to our hotel and get the exclusive chance for a free book reading by author Ko Moonyoung? Hotel Blue Moon, right? I've never heard of it. Do you get guests only once in a blue moon, too?"

He looked remarkably unruffled, so that was probably not it—or was his face just that good? All he said was, "My hotel doesn't need any advertising."

She cocked her head. "Why not? Is it a motel?"

He smirked at some private joke that she wasn't in on. "Maybe I should invite you sometime, and you can find out."

This got more interesting as it went. "Are you coming on to me right now?" she asked, stepping closer, properly in his personal space. He was unmoved, or simply good at not showing it; he stayed in place, looking down at her—even in her heels—and said,

"Is that what you'd like?" Before she could say something—yes?—no?—both, maybe, he continued, "But no. Take it as goodwill, Ko Moonyoung. I hope you don't come to my hotel for years. I hope you never come there."

That—was unexpected. She raised her chin, putting her blunt jaw between them. "Why not?" He had been flirting a moment ago.

He smiled, and looked over her shoulder, face transforming to something far less. Like this, he almost looked pleasant and boring, but it had slipped off his face so quickly she knew it couldn't be real. She looked behind her, and—sure enough, Sangin, with his little not-so-discreet boxes of cash.

"What's this? I thought you said you didn't need money." And he wasn't going to answer her question now. She was not a person accustomed to disappointment, not these days.

Waistcoat shrugged. "I said it's not the best solution... but I have no problem taking money. I got stabbed, remember?" He walked up to Sangin, took the two boxes from Sangin's hands, and left before anyone else could get a word out.

Sangin looked stunned—just for a moment, though, before he took off running after him with the drink he'd bought him. "Kangtae-ssi!" he called. "Kangtae-ssi!"

Kangtae.

Well, she could at least stop calling him Waistcoat now. Not that it mattered, she supposed. I hope you never come to my hotel. He had taken his money, and left.

All the same. Eleven-thirteen, Sang Sang-i-Sang balcony, as she waited for a meeting delayed by an unexpected gust of wind knocking Sangin and his coffee over. Across the street, Kangtae, shoulders broader than the tree trunks he was walking by, sun glinting off his hair. Maybe his hotel was shit. Maybe it really was a motel. Whatever his hotel was, the man himself was—

"Beautiful."

She could just see it—striding out into the city, heel crushing pavement, picking him up by the collar, asking him what the hell he meant, and—

He looked back over his shoulder, meeting her eye through the pincers she had made with her fingers. Then he winked.

She wanted him.

#kdramanetwork #its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #pbio fanfic #iotnbo fanfic #mine #minefic #pbiofic #pbio fic #kangmoon #hotel blue moon

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perfeggso · 4 years ago

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Noir (yutae)

Week IV pt. 1

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 7k

“Okay,” said Yuta, “this is the last time I’ll ask – I promise. You’re sure I didn’t scare you last night?”

Taeyong sat in the passenger side of Yuta’s car, waiting in the pick-up area at Narita International Airport the morning after their first night together, listening to "4:00AM" by Taeko Onuki. He rolled his eyes.

“Yuta,” he began, “if I was going to be scared of you – which I am not, by the way – it wouldn’t be because you startled me when you yelled in the middle of the night, I can tell you that much.”

The night before, Taeyong had fallen asleep in Yuta’s arms; tired, sated, and oh so happy. His little bundle of positivity only unwound when he was shaken rudely awake in the early hours of the morning by Yuta screaming. It didn’t last for long, partially because Taeyong had used all the wits he could gather to coo over Yuta, calming him down and easing his tension, but it had been disturbing, nonetheless. When Taeyong felt like he’d waited a sufficiently long time for Yuta to regain his bearings, he’d ventured to ask what was the matter. All Yuta could put into words was that he’d had a bad dream, and that for as long as he could remember, his bad dreams could sometimes get horrifying or tangible enough to make him react quite violently in the real world, and he was sorry. Taeyong didn’t press him on what that particular dream was about, but it must have been quite upsetting. Who knew what kinds of things Yuta had seen in his life for his unconscious brain to draw upon? Anyway, the next morning Yuta couldn’t stop the incident from preoccupying him, apparently very worried that it would somehow make him less desirable or something. Taeyong was having none of it.

Yuta sighed as he sank farther into the driver’s seat, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Taeyong felt a little pang of guilt that he might have insinuated that maybe he should fear Yuta for other, non-nightmare-related reasons. But like he said, he didn’t. He didn’t fear Yuta even though he’d watched him kill another man with his own eyes. Yuta was too sweet and odd, too predictably human, and made him feel too good to scare him.

“Okay, good. It just happens sometimes. Haven’t figured out how to control it yet,” Yuta said. He switched the topic. “How’s your ass, by the way?” Taeyong smiled to himself.

“It’s fine, but you did bruise me a tiny bit.”

Now it was Yuta smiling. “Sorry.” He didn’t seem very sorry, though. “Don’t Change” by INXS started to play over the radio.

“I don’t care,” Taeyong admitted. “I like a little reminder of who made me feel like this.”

“Good,” said Yuta. “Next time I’ll mark you up deliberately.”

Taeyong’s breath caught in his throat. Should they even be talking about this on the job? Wasn’t Yuta worried about being distracted? Still, he filed Yuta’s promise away in his mind so he could hold him to his word.

“You wanted tattoos, anyway,” Yuta teased. “I can give you the low commitment version.”

“You’re kinda corny sometimes, you know?” Taeyong said, causing Yuta to splutter laughter.

“Yeah,” he confessed, “I know.” He turned to regard Taeyong with a smile.

Taeyong hadn’t brought anything with him last night to change into for the next day, so (with permission!) he’d raided Yuta’s closet. Taeyong wouldn’t have minded wearing his clothes from the night before – they weren’t particularly slutty and no one he’d be seeing today had seen him in them the previous night – but they still smelled pretty bad from all the sweat and spilled alcohol lodged in their threads. Instead, Taeyong got to smell like Yuta.

He wore a Bauhaus t-shirt, black jeans, and a gray blazer with a little gold pin with the Inagawa-kai logo on it attached to the lapel. Yuta wore the same one on his black, patent-leather peacoat. He had paired that with black aviator sunglasses for a truly eye-catching combination. Taeyong thought it was funny that Yuta seemed incapable of not dressing like a mobster.

Before Yuta could say whatever he was about to, a blue BMW pulled up right next to them and rolled down the window, revealing Taeil in the driver’s seat and Mark by his side. Taeil was yelling something Taeyong couldn’t hear over the sound of departing airplanes, and apparently Yuta couldn’t understand it either because he yelled back for Taeil to repeat himself.

“What?” Taeil asked instead.

“He’s wondering if you’ve gotten any updates!” Mark repeated.

“No!” Yuta responded. “And why are you double-parking me? Just pull up a little!”

Taeil obliged and parked in front of Yuta and Taeyong, getting out once he’d cut the engine and walking to Yuta’s window. Yuta turned off the radio.

“Why do you need an update?” he asked.

Taeil rested his hands on the car door. “Because,” he explained, “Mark was hanging around headquarters and really wanted to come even though I kept telling him that if they brought more than one extra person with them I would not hesitate to leave him at the airport.”

“Why didn’t you just say no?” Yuta inquired.

“Because I thought he’d tell you I said no and then you’d be annoyed.”

Taeyong sat there as this whole interaction played out, watching Mark watch them from Taeil’s car. It seemed like Mark got a lot of preferential treatment. Not that Taeyong could talk.

“Alright,” said Yuta. “It’s not a problem. I don’t have any reason to believe there will be more people with Kun than he said.”

Taeil clapped his hands over the car door a couple of times. “Okay, just checking. Shategashira ?”

“Yeah?”

“ Would you have been annoyed with me?”

Yuta pondered the question for a minute, eyes dancing around the cabin of his car. “Probably,” he eventually admitted, smiling and looking at Taeil out of the corner of his eye.

“Knew it!”

Part of Taeyong wanted to know what Yuta’s deal was with Mark, scared the curiosity might be coming from a place of burgeoning jealousy. Taeyong was over the moon about his relationship with Yuta, but sometimes he cursed his own decision making. His infatuations always stressed him out terribly, and his situation was already stressful enough.

He watched as a group of well-dressed men exited the door Kun and his people were supposed to be emerging from. Yuta and Taeil were still talking – something to do with their meeting preparations, no doubt – and hadn’t seemed to notice the new arrivals in the pickup area.

“Is that them?” Taeyong asked.

Yuta and Taeil both snapped their heads in the direction Taeyong was pointing. Yuta blinked.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “It is.”

“How many were there supposed to be?” Taeyong asked as a follow-up.

“Seven,” Taeil answered this time. “They brought two extras with them. Fuck.”

“Looks like someone’s going in the trunk,” Yuta joked.

Taeyong and Yuta got out of the car, walking over to the Triads with Taeil and Mark, who’d finally stepped out onto the curb. Taeyong thought he caught Mark giving him a once-over, perhaps registering the presence of Yuta’s clothing on his body.

“I thought I told you to stay at your post,” Yuta scolded.

Mark shrugged. “I thought this was a special occasion.”

The Triads were more inconspicuous than the Inagawa-kai usually were, their tall builds and dark clothing lending them all an appearance more akin to a celebrity and his bodyguards (although who the celebrity was could be up to interpretation) than to a group of criminals.

Kun, or at least the man Taeyong assumed was Kun, stood at the front of a near perfect triangle of his men, a relaxed confidence defining his features.

Kun and Yuta acknowledged each other with a bow.

“ Shategashira , good to see you,” Kun greeted.

“ Fu Shan Chu , the honor’s all mine.”

Taeyong didn’t know what Kun’s title meant, but he had a feeling Yuta wasn’t pronouncing it very well. Not that he could have done any better. As Taeil and Mark quickly extended their own greetings, Taeyong prayed a silent ‘thank you’ that the Triads all spoke Japanese; he didn’t need to be any more confused than he already was basically nonstop. Although after a moment of thought, he realized this made perfect sense considering these men had been hand-picked to attend an important business meeting (if you could call it a “business meeting”) in Japan.

“Taeyong,” Yuta began, the indulgent tone Taeyong had grown more and more used to him using when they were together overtaking his voice, “I want you to meet some dear friends.”

Kun introduced himself first as a Deputy, second in command of his syndicate and in charge of international business; then came Sicheng, a skilled tracker and fighter despite his lithe build; followed by Ten, the Hong Kong liaison for the group’s Thai offshoot who explained by way of introduction that, since no one could ever pronounce his real name, he went by ‘Ten’ for the number of people he’d personally “interrogated” by the time he decided he needed a nickname (“but now I’ve lost count”). The three of them were followed by Yukhei, a tall Hong Kong native and self-described yes-man for Ten; Dejun, who kept his introduction succinct but fixed an almost manic positive energy on Taeyong the whole time he spoke; Kunhang, the “Macanese Snoop,” whatever that meant; and Yangyang who once worked for the Taiwanese Triads and was in charge of smuggling since he used to do it between West and East Germany for some reason Taeyong didn’t quite catch. The seven men were able to pack so much information into their introductions because they kept jumping in on each other’s sentences, adding information they deemed pertinent about their friends seemingly as a way of hyping one another up.

Once the seven men in front finished, Yuta peaked exaggeratedly to the back of the group to address the stragglers.

“And you two, it seems to me, are none other than Zhong Chenle and Huang Renjun, all grown up now, hm?” The pair smiled mischievously at each other. They wore almost schoolboy-like suits that looked a little too expensive to be trusted in the hands of a late teen or early twenty-something, as they appeared to be.

“Hello Yuta-san,” they each chimed, a bit out of synch.

“I can tell that you’ve aged too, Shategashira,” quipped the shorter of the two. The taller joined in.

“Yeah, please make sure you’re getting enough sleep, sir.” Chenle and Renjun tittered as the Triads rolled their eyes and Kun shot them an absolutely lethal glare.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Mark jested from over Taeyong’s left shoulder. “You’re on Yuta’s turf now and I can promise from experience you don’t want to see him pissed. Can’t run to your daddies here.”

Now it was Chenle rolling his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Mark,” he said, and Mark cackled in amusement.

“Thank you, Mark,” Taeil interjected, a cautious impatience practically dripping from his voice. “I think our Shategashira can defend himself.”

“Great!” said Yuta, trying to regain control of the interaction. Taeyong was starting to get nervous because they were all still standing out in the open outside one of Narita’s many exits, and it wouldn’t have taken that much imagination on the part of an onlooker to identify them as a group of gangsters. Yuta didn’t seem nervous though, so Taeyong pushed his anxiety as far down as he could until it was nearly imperceptible. Yuta leaned closer to him a bit as he aimed to guide Taeyong through their ongoing introductions.

“Those two meiwaku are the sons of Triad commanders. They’re completely spoiled, as you can see.” Taeyong almost giggled, amused by the amount of time Yuta seemed to spend getting bullied by people who were barely out of high school. Yuta continued. “So that’s everyone,” he concluded, pulling away from Taeyong.

“I’m humbled to meet you all,” Taeyong said, brain overloaded for the hundredth time in a month by all the new faces and by Yuta’s proximity.

Yuta brushed his finger over Taeyong’s sleeve. It was a small movement and he doubted anyone else saw, but Taeyong had to suppress the heat threatening to overtake his face. Yuta never got into the personal space of his subordinates while conducting business, but then again, Taeyong was an exception in more ways than one. He couldn’t decide if he was more irritated by Yuta messing with him or by his own oversensitivity.

“You don’t have to use kenjougo with them,” Yuta joked. “Polite language will do. They’re all younger than you, anyway.”

Taeyong balked. He knew that Chenle and Renjun were young, but his tone hadn’t been meant for them. And he thought Yuta was a prodigy...

“You want to introduce yourself, Taeyong?” Yuta suggested.

“Oh, right! Hello, my name is Lee Taeyong and I’m sort of a member-in-training, I suppose. I’m helping Yuta prepare for your upcoming meeting.” Taeyong bowed, having rushed through his introduction, and he was glad no one could see his downcast eyes go wide when he felt Yuta’s palm just above the small of his back, guiding him upright. Could he not?

“Taeyong’s been a great asset to us lately,” said Yuta, and Taeyong thought he detected the tiniest hint of teasing in his words. “I trust you’ll all come to appreciate him as we have.”

Taeyong heard Taeil sigh from behind him. “We should be going,” he stated, “but I regret to inform you that one of the pipsqueaks is going to need to improvise in terms of seating on the way into the city. We were expecting fewer people.”

Kun smiled wryly. “Maybe I should have hired a professional driver,” he joked and Taeil stiffened in irritation. “But no,” he continued, “I understand. These two insisted last minute on a vacation to Tokyo and their fathers didn’t listen to my concerns about bringing them, so here we are. We’ll figure it out.”

“Shall we?” asked Yuta, turning on his heel towards the parked cars, and Kun made a hand motion that signaled for all the Triads to follow.

“You know,” said Taeil, as he watched Mark drop back in formation to share more personal greetings with some of his Triad buddies, “we could just put Mark in the trunk, and this wouldn’t be an issue. He did insist on joining after all.”

Mark turned his attention from Yukhei to Taeil and scowled. “If you do that, I’ll yell so loud you get pulled over and then I’ll say I’m being kidnapped by the yakuza,” he warned.

Ten sidled up to Mark and regarded him casually, a smirk forming on his face. “Uh-huh,” he said, “and what do you think the cops will make of that Irezumi on your wrist?”

“Shut up,” said Mark, seeming to resign himself to an uncomfortable ride back.

Taeyong and Yuta returned to their car, trailed by Ten, Kun, and a skittish Renjun who held a finger to his lips as he slipped into the middle seat in back. Taeyong paused in front of the vehicle for a moment, next to the passenger side door. He was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to sit shotgun, considering he had the lowest rank of the five of them save Renjun. He looked at Yuta questioningly, expecting a word or gesture directing him to the back seats. Instead, Yuta nodded for Taeyong to enter where he was, so Taeyong opened the door and sat in front, trying to be small and invisible by moving as little as possible. Kun and Ten didn’t seem to question it.

“Thank you for choosing Inagawa chauffeur service,” Yuta said jokingly once everyone was inside. It took a moment to get going because Mark was trying to force Chenle into the trunk of Taeil’s car and Chenle responded by flailing and emitting a screech so high in pitch that Taeyong worried it might shatter all the windows of both cars.

“You’re a smart boy, Renjun,” Kun stated, “choosing to come in this car.”

“Yeah,” Ten chimed, “what would you have done if we tried to force you into the trunk?”

Renjun smirked. “I have a pocket knife on me and I’m not afraid to use it…” he explained in response, making everyone laugh. In front of them, Mark pouted as the trunk door finally closed over him. Taeyong caught a smile on Yuta’s face out of his peripheral vision as both car engines started.

***

Taeyong had only been to the “training room” at headquarters a couple of times before. The first time had been when Doyoung decided to nab him and teach him knife throwing, and the second was when Jaehyun asked him to hold arm pads for him to punch. The space was painted yellow from floor to ceiling and had harsh lighting and mold growing like shadows in the corners. One section had weights, mats, and boxing equipment set up next to a mirror; one, some knives and targets; and one, a table and small sitting area.

The Triads had only been in town a few hours and already, they seemed to be getting quite comfortable. When Taeyong had a moment of free time, Ten and a few others grabbed him without explanation and dragged him off to go “have some fun and get to know each other.” Apparently, that meant subjecting him to public mortification.

Sicheng had his arms wrapped around Taeyong’s midsection, bending him over and essentially demobilizing him. Taeyong breathed heavily, unable to do anything but struggle and watch the speckled floor under him shift along with his jerky movements.

“Sicheng, maybe go easy on him?” he heard Kunhang suggest from the table area, where some of the Triads were sat watching.

“I thought Inagawa was tougher than this,” Yangyang heckled, and Taeyong felt hot shame pile on top of his bodily discomfort.

Dejun piped up next. “He’s new, Yangyang, give him a break.”

Taeyong wanted to respond, but he was too busy trying to defend himself physically to do it verbally. Sicheng brought his knee up into Taeyong’s stomach, just hard enough to startle him without hurting him too badly. He used Taeyong’s disorientation to trip him, and next thing he knew, Taeyong was sore and heaving with his ass on the padded floor.

“Or don’t go easy on him,” Kunhang remarked. “Either way.”

Taeyong looked to his audience. Dejun, Kunhang, and Yangyang were all sitting around the table in the corner, a neglected game of poker which had started as a way of blowing off some competitive steam after “training” laid out between them. Ten stood a bit off to the side, arms crossed and gaze sharp with scrutiny. He took a couple of strides towards Taeyong and Sicheng, a smirk overtaking his mouth as he looked down at Taeyong like he was prey. Taeyong had met plenty of scary people in his life, and the frequency of such encounters had only increased since he started hanging around the yakuza, but Ten, with his wicked expressiveness and black leather suit in this moment gave Taeyong a chill of pure terror.

He noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see it was Sicheng reaching his hand out to help Taeyong up. He smiled, face inviting and a welcome contrast to Ten’s entire aura. Taeyong took his hand and let Sicheng pull him to his feet.

“I thought you were supposed to be Yuta’s bodyguard,” Ten said plainly.

“Well, not exactly,” Taeyong tried to explain. “I just follow him around and keep a lookout for trouble; anything suspicious.”

Ten narrowed his eyes in a way Taeyong felt had to be partly for show. “That’s all, huh? Doesn’t sound like much.” Ten looked Taeyong head to toe and hummed thoughtfully. “Could there be another reason Yuta keeps you around?”

Jesus Christ, did everyone know? The room felt suddenly cold as Taeyong’s body came down from his previous exertion. He tried to suppress a shiver as his brain rushed to come up with a response. Thankfully, Sicheng stepped in.

“He knows how to fight, Ten, he’s just used to fighting brainless brutes.”

Taeyong nodded, hurrying to redeem himself. “Sicheng’s right,” he confirmed. “M’sorry.”

Ten let out a laugh through his nose. “No need to grovel,” he said, smile growing slightly less intimidating. He pushed a finger playfully into Taeyong’s shoulder, sending Taeyong’s mind reeling. “Anyway, I heard you saved Yuta from an assassin, so I’m in your corner. I’m just taking it upon myself to help you improve and make yourself even more useful.”

Taeyong laughed in confusion, spitting out a sarcastic, “gee, thanks.”

Dejun expelled a sound of wounded disappointment from behind Ten, certainly brought about by the poker game. Kunhang and Yangyang snickered. Ten ignored them all, keeping his attention trained on Taeyong. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, catlike.

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Sure?” Taeyong ventured, not sure if this was another way of saying “let’s have some fun and get to know each other.” He steadied his core in case Ten decided to tackle him or something.

Instead, Ten opened his leather jacket, giving his torso the effect of having bat wings. Taeyong was surprised, but not as surprised as he would have been a month ago, to see the glint of what had to be at least two dozen small metal weapons emanating from the lining.

“Shit…”

“Nice, huh?” Ten prompted, and Taeyong felt compelled to nod in agreement. Ten used his head to indicate the right side of his jacket, where he had stored a slew of small knives, brass knuckles, and throwing stars, among other things Taeyong didn’t recognize.

“This side is for hand to hand combat,” he explained, smiling like a snake about to bite. He indicated to his left next, where he had some longer and thicker knives, plyers, metal clamps, and a bouquet of slim needles, each about nine inches in length. “And this side is for extracting information.” Ten seemed to register Taeyong’s cautious surprise. “I only show you this so you know what you’re up against,” he cooed.

“Al-alright,” Taeyong almost swallowed his words. “I appreciate it.”

Before Ten could terrorize him any further, the door swung open and everyone was looking to see who had arrived. It was Yukhei, trailed by Yuta.

“Yup, they’re in here,” Yukhei was saying, holding the door open for Yuta to enter.

Yuta stalked towards Taeyong, Ten, and Sicheng and the boys at the corner table all stood in greeting.

“Ten,” Yuta said in mock disapproval, “are you traumatizing my poor partner?”

“I’d call it ‘educating,’” Ten responded. “If he gets traumatized that’s simply a byproduct of necessary learning.”

“Okay, Ten, just don’t scare him off,” Yuta replied.

“It’s not like I could leave if I wanted to,” Taeyong grumbled, and Yuta shot him a cutting look, but it softened quickly into an expression of vague sadness.

“Taeyong, you’re wanted in room 2A.”

Taeyong schooled his face. “Right away, Shategashira .”

Yuta turned on his heel and exited the room. Yukhei stayed by the door, Taeyong figured, because Ten needed him. Taeyong followed hesitantly after, but Yukhei stopped him on the way out, looming over him but smiling so genuinely that Taeyong felt more comforted than scared.

“If it’s any consolation,” Yukhei began, a thick accent coating his deep voice, “Sicheng kicks my ass all the time too.”

Taeyong had a hard time believing that considering Yukhei, though he was roughly the same height as Sicheng, was noticeably larger in every other way. He was probably either too nice or too reliant on blunt force. Taeyong let out a breathy laugh.

“Thanks. That does make me feel a bit better.”

“No problem.”

Taeyong left, hearing Ten’s call of “bye-bye, Taeyong! I’ll see you again soon!” echo down the hall after him. His stomach sank when he thought of the coldness he’d accidentally caused in Yuta, but the other man was nowhere to be found so he figured he’d just report where he was needed and find Yuta later.

Room 2A was one floor down. Taeyong tried to open it himself but it was locked, so he opted to bang on the metal to announce his presence. It opened, a grinning pair of faces belonging to Johnny and Mina greeting him on the other side.

“Yonggie!” Mina exclaimed, moving herself away from the entrance so Taeyong could pass her, which he did. “Welcome!”

The room was little more than a cinder block box with a metal chair in the center. If Taeyong didn’t trust Mina and Johnny at this point, he would be expecting something horrible to occur in such a room.

“What’s going on, you guys?” Taeyong asked.

Johnny closed the door and came to lean on the wall across from Taeyong.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” he suggested, and Taeyong did. “We’re here to impart on you some very valuable lessons.”

Taeyong grimaced. He was exhausted from what Sicheng had put him through and just wanted to find Yuta. He’d had enough “education” and “lessons” for one day. Nevertheless, he figured he had no choice but to indulge his captors.

“What lessons are those?” Taeyong asked, rocking himself slightly against his chair. Mina joined Johnny on the wall.

She answered, “Tactics for resisting interrogation.”

Taeyong started. “Whoa. Okay…”

“I know it sounds bad,” said Johnny, “but it’s really important for you to know. Yuta asked us to do this.”

Taeyong felt his skin prickling as he grew more nervous. Why didn’t Yuta just teach him himself, then? he wondered, posing the question out loud.

Johnny smirked. “Because, he has important shit to get done. He can’t tend to his Yonggie constantly. He has to delegate some of that.”

Taeyong gritted his teeth. “Alright, alright. But why do I need to know this? I’m practically useless so why would anyone bother kidnapping me?”

Johnny slid down the wall until he was crouching against it, his face softening in mild concern.

“First of all,” he said, “you should know you’re not useless, Taeyong.”

“Yeah!” Mina added. “He might give you a hard time, but Johnny keeps telling me how much he likes having you around.” Johnny smiled at this.

“You hang around with a Lieutenant all day!” he said, and Mina finished his sentiment with, “you are TOTALLY kidnappable, Taeyong!”

Taeyong laughed at the preposterousness of this compliment. “Thanks, guys. I’m sorry, I’m just in a bit of a mood today,” he explained. “And I guess you’re right.”

“Of course we are,” Johnny said, pushing back off the wall to standing. “Anyway, now that we’re all on the same page, this is where things might get a bit unpleasant again. We give this training to every member of the syndicate and all of our serious romantic partners, so contrary to your instincts, you are doubly in need of this.”

Taeyong squirmed, uncomfortable in a bad way over the fact that he wasn’t technically a syndicate member yet and uncomfortable in a good way at the knowledge that Yuta considered him serious .

Mina smiled. “Don’t worry, this has come in handy for me, for sure.”

“That just makes me worry more, you realize?” Taeyong replied with a grimace.

“Okay, fair enough. Sorry. But it’s better you know than end up dead or betraying your friends and boyfriend!”

“Taeyong,” Johnny began. “Let’s start with what you know. When you picture a yakuza kidnapping, what’s happening?”

Taeyong’s mind flew to the image of Ten’s sparkling and deadly bat wings. “I try not to picture that, but I saw what Ten carries around with him, so I think I have an idea.”

Johnny laughed hollowly as Mina watched him. “Yeah, Ten’s a special guy. I think he’s the only person I’ve met who genuinely enjoys that part of the job. Anyway, so you know it could get bad.”

Johnny lifted his shirt to reveal his lower abdomen. There was a long, thin scar across his obliques, slicing an inked koi fish in half.

“Knives are common,” he explained vaguely. “I got this one from a Sumiyoshi thug nicknamed ‘The Butcher.’ But we’ll get to that later.”

Taeyong swallowed thickly as he tried to steady his buzzing eyes. Johnny continued.

“Obviously, you know that we expect you not to divulge any sensitive information. There are three things you are allowed to confirm for your captors though, just to get them thinking you won’t be a complete pain in their asses. Those three things are name, rank, and clan. Got it?”

Taeyong remembered how Yuta had lost patience quickly with the Yamaguchi assassin who refused to give any personal details. He didn’t want to end up like that guy. He nodded.

“Lee Taeyong, Kumi-in, Inagawa-kai,” he recited, as if anyone in the room didn’t already know.

“But no more than that,” Johnny confirmed.

“Another important thing to keep in mind,” Mina continued, “is that there are ways to avoid the worst tactics. If they’ve gone to the trouble of capturing you, that’s because they think you have crucial information that they need. It’s in their interest to keep you alive.”

Taeyong nodded along, determined to be a good student as he realized more and more clearly the very real possibility he might need to use some of what he was learning.

“Although it can be tempting to act defiant as if you’re not bothered by the pain, and many experienced gangsters will do this to avoid hurting their fragile little egos,” Mina looked pointedly at Johnny, who just shrugged, guilty, “it can do you some good to play to the opposite. You should exaggerate your injuries and pain. Even if they try to use that against you and humiliate you, ultimately if they think you’re closer to death than you are they’ll let up much faster. Make sense?”

Taeyong nodded quickly. Exaggerated pain, he could do that. “Makes sense,” he confirmed.

“Okay,” Johnny went on, “another thing. Obviously if you ever did get kidnapped, we’d send some people out to find you, and hopefully they’d be successful.”

Taeyong shifted in his seat, watching Johnny start to pace. Hopefully .

“When you do get rescued, for that to end well you need to stay calm and not try to join in the fight. If they see you moving around a lot or if you look like you’re about to break out of whatever restraints they have you in and fight back, then they’re way more likely to treat you like an enemy combatant and not like a prisoner. You could get killed. It’s kind of counterintuitive, but it’s important.”

Taeyong rolled his ankles, gaining some comfort out of the way the stretch and crack of the movement soothed his muscles. He took a deep breath.

“Hey guys, why are we doing this right now? Am I in danger?”

Mina and Johnny exchanged a glance, sending Taeyong’s heart racing even faster than it already was as he tried to decipher their silent communication. Mina spoke first.

“Not necessarily,” she said.

“We just want to prepare you,” Johnny added. “Well, Yuta wanted us to prepare you because he’s been really worried since that assassin came after you two. We can’t be sure that anything too serious will go down but if, say, a gang war does start over this Mitsubishi thing, we want you to be prepared. Got it?”

“Oh…yeah, got it.” Taeyong sighed. “I supposed it’s too late to just…let me go, huh?”

Johnny’s face screwed up and Mina’s twitched. Taeyong thought of their conversation at Johnny’s pachinko bar, assuming she too was pouring over the memory of her own warnings.

“I – look,” Johnny began, and Taeyong already knew the answer he was about to receive. “It’s been discussed, and the higher ups are adamant; you’ll be given the choice as soon as the Mitsubishi deal is secured, but no earlier. They felt they needed to bring you on in the beginning, and I’m in no position to question if that was overkill, but at this point you’re certainly stuck, considering all the information you have.” Taeyong nodded, eyes fluttering to the floor as Johnny leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He huffed a breath. “Do you – do you want to leave, Taeyong?”

Taeyong blinked. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what leaving would mean or where he could ever go. His new life was exciting in a way he’d always dreamed about and he liked the people around him more than he’d liked anyone in a long time; Johnny and Mina going out of their way to help him stay safe, the other Tora regiment members all welcoming him so easily, and Yuta…god, Yuta… At the same time though, Taeyong’s new life hadn’t managed to shake the feeling he so often had that he was floating through existence, incapable of being grounded even by the most intense experiences. He wasn’t used to things working out for him. Besides, the last time he made a major decision for himself, he’d been called xenophobic names and battered within an inch of his life.

“I…don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think so, anyway, but I don’t want to be a liability.”

Johnny smiled slightly. “That’s not worth worrying about because you aren’t.”

Taeyong wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway. “Alright,” he said. “What else have you got to teach me?”

Johnny and Mina let him go after another half hour or so of discussion, teaching him how to school his demeanor to fit somewhere between deference and defiance, how to relax himself in a way that would prevent excessive bleeding and make blows easier to endure, and how to give answers that kept the line of questioning going but revealed nothing to the interrogators. By the time he left room 2A, Taeyong was wondering if he should feel empowered or petrified, his mind careening from one emotion to the other with every new thought. Once he was done processing, he decided to find Yuta.

He’d barely had the chance to talk to him all day and it was weird for him. The night before had been ridiculously intimate, Yuta fucking him so well, opening up to him about his past, and holding him as they fell asleep; so the weird shifts Taeyong had observed all day in Yuta between teasing and aloof were giving him whiplash since he couldn’t ask what was causing them. He hoped Yuta wasn’t busy.

“ Douzo .”

Taeyong’s heart sank when he opened Yuta’s office door and saw Kun there, though he tried not to show it.

“Taeyong, what is it?” Yuta asked, an air of impatience radiating from him and from Kun as he turned around to see who was there.

“ Shategashira ,” Taeyong saluted. He felt like it was his first day all over again. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just hoping to speak with you whenever you’re free.”

Yuta’s expression softened. “Of course. Why don’t you sit by the window while we finish up?”

“Thank you,” Taeyong said, bowing sheepishly and settling into one of the indicated chairs. “Excuse me.”

Kun looked sideways at Taeyong, silent.

“You can speak freely in front of him,” assured Yuta. Kun nodded and pulled his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I just don’t understand how they would have gotten ahold of that information. Could it have been through Donghyuck’s crew?” By “they” Taeyong assumed Kun meant the Yamaguchi-gumi.

Yuta shook his head, placing his fingers in a check mark shape at his chin. “I doubt it. Donghyuck is extremely careful.”

Kun was growing exasperated. Taeyong felt like maybe this was an interaction he shouldn’t be witnessing. He didn’t quite know why he felt that way, though.

“Well, Yuta, there has to be a weak link somewhere, and I trust that you’ll eliminate it. We’re already in a less stable position than I was expecting upon arrival.”

Yuta smiled accommodatingly. “Thank you for your confidence. The leak could have also come from a different regiment, but I’m doing all I can to weed out whoever is responsible.”

“Good,” said Kun. “Our success and our partnership could depend on this.”

“I understand.”

Right then, Chenle and Renjun showed up at the door, having finished a shopping trip down the street, to tell Kun that Ten was looking for him. Taeyong thought he saw Kun direct a sliver of a smile his way as he left.

Yuta sat up and joined Taeyong by the window in the chair to his left. He sat and sighed, a big, open smile overtaking his face. There was the whiplash again.

“Hi baby,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Did Johnny and Mina give you the talk?”

Taeyong snorted a laugh, looking at Yuta from under his fringy bangs. “Yeah, they did.”

“You okay?” Yuta asked. Taeyong shrugged.

“Could’ve been worse,” he guessed. “Good stuff to know.”

Yuta leaned in. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“I guess a little. But there was other stuff too.”

Taeyong looked around Yuta’s office. He’d been stuck almost all day in rooms with concrete walls and fluorescent lighting, and it was making him want to jump out of his skin. He told Yuta to wait a moment for him to get up and turn off the lights. On second thought, while he was up and about, he opened the window to flush the room of the stench of stale cigarette smoke. Yuta watched him with caution as he underwent his little chores. Taeyong turned from the window and made his way back to his chair, eyes finally able to relax in the dimness.

“Johnny and Mina said you’re worried I might be in danger.”

Yuta sighed again. “I don’t necessarily think you’re in imminent danger, but I want to be safe. It’s always a possibility. Sorry if I scared you.”

“Like I told you this morning,” Taeyong repeated. “You don’t scare me. I just want you to be up front with me.”

“Up front, huh?” Yuta paused, his eyes flitting over the floor in thought. “Truth is I’ve been worried about you since the Yamaguchi assassin. It’s always risky to take on a new recruit, or a lover for that matter,” Taeyong blushed at the word, “but up until that point I don’t think the danger felt as real. I would never forgive myself if I let something bad happen to you, Taeyong.”

One of the things Taeyong had been wondering about clicked into place for him. “Your dream last night…is that what – ”

“Yes. That’s part of why I was worried about frightening you. Thought I might have said something while unconscious about you, I don’t know, getting abducted or something.”

“You didn’t,” said Taeyong, breathing a laugh.

“Good.” Yuta smiled, gaze trained at the open window and fingers fiddling with the bottom of his blazer. Taeyong wondered if he was nervous to make eye contact. “And then later when you mentioned how you’re basically stuck with me, then I felt like shit all over again because it’s true: you’re essentially my hostage.” With that, Yuta finally looked Taeyong in the face. “I just don’t know what to do when you say things like that. I know this seems silly, I mean I’ve never shied away from doing arguably unethical things before, but I couldn’t help but ask myself if you even like me -- ”

The pressure that had been threatening to send Taeyong shooting out of his own body finally became too much, and in lieu of doing the impossible, he found himself damming up Yuta’s stream of consciousness with a kiss.

“There we go,” he teased, pulling away and reveling in the awestruck look on Yuta’s face. “I had to shut you up somehow.”

Yuta’s face hadn’t moved since the kiss ended and a smile was spreading over it like melting butter. “That’s no way to speak to your commander,” he teased back, sounding a little drunk on relief. Taeyong spoke.

“ Shategashira , I hope you can forgive me. But you are being ridiculous. I like you, okay? And it’s not because I’m scared or brainwashed. I like you because I like you . I like the way you make me feel. I’m sorry for making you think I wanted to leave.”

Yuta took Taeyong’s hand and kissed it. “ I’m sorry for being such a basket case. Aish, it’s embarrassing, huh?”

Taeyong snorted. “Oh please. If you weren’t insecure sometimes, I might actually be afraid of you.”

He smiled to himself, wondering for a moment if maybe he needed to stop thinking so much and just bask in the strange twist of fate that had brought him and Yuta together. They were still getting to know each other, but Taeyong had never been with someone so charismatic yet so open. If he was going to risk being kidnapped and tortured it might just end up being worth it. Taeyong allowed himself to be lost enough in thought that a few seconds felt like minutes and he barely heard it when the door flung open without warning. Yuta heard it though, wrenching his fingers from where they were laced between Taeyong’s.

“Yuta-san!” said Renjun as he entered the room trailed by Chenle. “What’s going on in here?”

Yuta glared. “Didn’t anyone teach you to knock? That’s very disrespectful.”

“Sorry, didn’t know you had anything to hide,” Chenle quipped. “Anyway, Kun is looking for you again.”

Yuta stood, reluctantly it seemed to Taeyong. “Why couldn’t he send someone else to fetch me?”

Chenle rolled his eyes as they left the room and on the way out Taeyong heard Renjun explain, “because, he told us if all we were gonna do was loiter he might as well put us to use.”

Taeyong giggled, catching himself when Yuta peered back through the door. ��Hey, you can go home. Or stick around and make some friends, yeah?”

Taeyong nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, and Yuta rapped his knuckles against the door with a grin before he was gone. Taeyong stood, determined to have some Triad friends by the end of the day.

#my fanfic #my work #nct #nct 127 #yuta #nct fanfic #nakamoto yuta #taeyong #yutae #nct dream #noir #1980s! au #neothestars #yakuza #gang!au #nct 2020 #nctnetwrite #nct lee taeyong #nct nakamoto yuta

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