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sailorsoons · 3 months ago

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Midnight Sails (c.sc)

PAIRING: Pirate!Seungcheol x f.reader

SUMMARY: Seungcheol has never been able to give his heart over to anything but the sea, which has landed him in a never ending game of chase with the sea’s favorite daughter.

WC: 2,148

AU: Pirate AU, Fantasy

GENRE: Established Relationship But Make It Weird

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: A little vague on the details of the world building, cannons and firearms and weapons, not really violence at all - no one gets injured. Some minor cursing. Reader’s crew is vaguely creepy and threatening.

A/N: This is for this request! I hope you enjoy - I actually now want to write way more of this world and pairing soijsaoijes.

A/N 2: Obviously this is in parts inspired by PotC but like if there was a god who presided over the death and the sea and she was his favorite kid kind of thing.

MASTERLIST | ASK | FOR MY MILESTONE EVENT | PERMANENT TAG LIST

THE SHIP CREAKS AS IT SAILS GENTLY ACROSS DARK SEAS. Seungcheol can see the blackness of the night outside of his small window, endless and dark like the whale oil burning in the lanterns in his room. It smells a bit acrid because of the closed-in space, but there is spiced incense they’d picked up at their last port that he burns to combat it.

Wiping a hand over his face doesn't wipe away the tired. They’d had plenty of days of rest before they’d parted for the open ocean again yesterday, picking up a couple of new crew members, supplies and more than enough memories of women in beds and the softness of their touch to keep his crew happy for their trek.

Still, Seungcheol is always tired. There are courses to chart, documents to pilfer through in search of something worth sending his crew after, and plenty of responsibilities as captain to keep him stressed and busy.

The stop in the last port hadn’t relaxed him as much as he’d needed. He sighs heavily, rolling up a map with nimble fingers. There was nothing to be done about it now. His weariness would ease the further out to sea they went - it always did.

Placing the map back in his carefully catelogged shelf, Seungcheol goes to the washbasin in his quarters to prepare for bed. Mingyu is at the helm tonight and the nightwatch is well into their duties for the night. Though they’ve been sailing all day, they’re not far enough from civilization that he’s worried about much.

Seungcheol splashes cool water on his face. It feels good and he closes his eyes momentarily, working one of his hands into his neck, trying to force the knot there to unravel. The ship's groans and creaks are a comforting sound, backtracked by the grandfather clock ticking in the far corner.

He lets the familiar sound sooth him, breathing in deeply. The amber from the incense is nice, but it isn’t as relaxing as open air. As salt. As sandalwood. As palm oil. It takes him a split second to realize what scent he’s thinking of - or rather who - but something interrupts the thought. Makes him pause.

It’s dead silent in his quarters. He opens his eyes, adjusting to the lamp light. Only his reflection looks back at him in his salt-corroded mirror. He looks the same as always: dark brown eyes, dark hair that is growing a little too long past his ears, an iron hoop through his nose that he’d gotten on a dare as a teen, and an array of necklaces collected from various treasure hoards.

There are a few scars too, one right above his eyebrow that he remembers fondly. His eyes flicker in the mirror glancing behind him in the silence. He turns when his eyes alight on the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It’s stopped ticking.

Seungcheol’s heart leaps in his chest just as he hears the first boom of a cannon. Shouts ring out on the deck as he dives for the table in the middle of his quarters. It meets him faster than he expects - Mingyu turns the wheel at the helm, making the ship keel to the starboard side. He slams into the table, cursing as pain hits him at the waist.

Ignoring what’s surely going to be a nasty bruise, Seungcheol grabs his weapons belt, knocking things off the table as he slings it around his waist, running for the door. The weight of the belt is familiar and gives him a sense of ease, laden with pistols, knives and his saber.

Outside, the deck is in chaos. His cannon master is barking orders, members of the crew working together to turn the swing cannons. Mingyu orders for lamps to be lit, trying to get a visual on the enemy vessel as Seungcheol marches up the steps toward the helm.

Another boom echoes and Seungcheol feels the whistle of the cannon. He drops to his stomach and a moment later the ballistic crushes through the railing, sending splinters flying. He puts his arms over his head, protecting his skull from the debris as it smacks against the backs of his hands.

He doesn’t hear the cannon go off again so he scrambles to his feet, making it to the helm where Mingyu throws the wheel to the left, bringing the ship straight. Wind ripples in the sales for only a moment before it dies, leaving them immobile.

Mingyu curses. “What in the blazes?”

A boom resounds from beneath Seungcheol’s feet as The Harpy returns fire to their foes in the dark. One of the newer members of the crew - Chan, Seungcheol thinks his name is - comes running over, torch in hand.

“Captain, the ship!” Chan leans over, panting for breath. “It appeared from nowhere. She’s portside and behind us but she’s gaining.”

“How is she gaining without wind?” Mingyu demands.

Seungcheol closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. He smells salt and ocean, driftwood and palm oil. “What color are the sails?”

“Black as night almost darker, like-

“Midnight?” Seungcheol asks. When Chan nods, Mingyu groans and locks the wheel in place. He begins ordering the crew to prepare to be boarded. “Stay away from the railing, lad. They like to throw men overboard.”

“Who? What? Captain why aren’t we-”

Seungcheol claps Chan on the shoulder before jogging down the steps. The crew seems equal parts terrified that a phantom ship in the night is gaining on them and more relaxed as they pause what they were doing and gather in the middle of the ship. Some of the crew who has been with Seungcheol longer sigh like Mingyu had before jumping up to sit on a barrel while newer members like Chan stand on the main deck, hand hovering over their pistol, unsure what to do.

To Chan’s credit, he doesn’t piss himself when he sees the enemy shift drift into the orange light cast by all the torches on board. It’s better than most can say. Seeing The Dark Tide for the first time is enough to make any pirate shit their pants, no matter how long he’s been pirating or how many strange things they’ve seen.

The Dark Tide is beautiful, in its own way. The sails aren’t exactly sails - they’re blacker than night and they move like smoke, billowing on a wind that doesn’t exist, moved by a powder that Seungcheol has never quite understood nor dared question. The vessel is just as black, blending with the ocean save the single, bone white figurehead on the bow of the ship depicting a veiled maiden with a crown of waves and pearls.

For a moment, it looks like there is no one on the phantom ship. It sails to a gentle stop. The water doesn’t even ripple around it, almost like it’s not there. He knows it is. The Dark Tide is as real as anything else in the world, just different.

Mingyu appears next to Seungcheol, about to say something when the crew of The Dark Tide appears. The new members of Seungcheol’s crew cry out in surprise when the wraiths appear. They’re in all kinds of shapes and sizes, vaguely humanoid and terrifying, with eyes that burn green like hellfire and shadowy hair drifting in the wind.

Several of Seungcheol’s crew draw weapons but he holds out a hand, warning them off. He waits as they’re boarded. Two of the wraith-like pirates linger near the railing of The Harpy, leaning over to help someone up the rope ladder and land firmly on the deck of Seungcheol’s ship.

He feels his heart flutter. Around his neck, the locket on one of his necklaces hums in recognition, burning hot through his thin sleep shirt. It echoes the heat that licks through him when you stare at him, cocking your head to the side as your sea-green eyes drink him in, starting at his feet and ending with meeting his gaze.

“A pirate crew caught unaware,” You observe, eyes drifting away to survey his crew. He doesn’t dare look away from you for a moment, heart pounding in his chest. You click your teeth and shake your head. “How unfortunate. Shall I sink your ship for the very insult?”

“You did shoot cannons at us.”

Your gaze finds him again and his toes curl. The urge to cross the rest of the deck and gather you into his arms nearly takes over him. Your gaze glints, equal parts dangerous and playful, an untamable churning of green and blue and every other color that makes up the ocean.

“I shot cannons at you,” You correct him, wicked mouth curving. “I’ll admit that I missed, though.”

“You never miss.”

Lifting a single shoulder, you approach him. Seungcheol’s men move out of his way as you approach. Some of them look at you like they want to step toward you, but it would be a mistake. You are beautiful and alluring, your energy inspiring reckless abandon, ferociousness, greed. But you’re far more dangerous than you look - Seungcheol knows this best of all.

So he doesn’t move, instead letting you approach. You stop a few feet away from him and he can smell you. His fingers twitch. He wants to groan and reach out for you, wants to wrap his fingers in your shirt and pull you close, wants to taste the salt on your mouth and dive into your freezing cold waters until he’s numb and can’t breathe.

He doesn’t.

You reach out to him, fingers tracing the locket around his neck. He shivers, licking his lips before meeting your gaze. Your burning eyes are on him, unreadable with the storm on the surface of your gaze.

Wrapping your fingers around the locket, you give a sharp tug and pop the chain from his neck. Behind him, Chan gasps. No one else moves as you cradle the trinket, eyes shining. It’s in the simple shape of a heart, wrought in silver with infernal etchings across the surface.

Closing your palm around it, you smile and take a step back. Seungcheol makes the barest sound of protest and you notice, arching a brow. Instead of telling you to stay like he wants, he says, “I worked hard to capture that.”

You grin then. “I’m sure you’ll work equally hard to regain it, Captain.”

Seungcheol grits his teeth. You’re sure to drive him to the edge of the world for it, to Hell - where he has been - and back again. He’s willing to do it. Willing to risk the life of his crew for the treasure of having it again, of keeping it close.

“Until then…” You say coyly, giving him a shrug. “I’ll wait.”

Without another word, you spin on your boot and march toward the rail of The Harpy. He watches you go, aching to reach out for you. Aching to have you. But if he does, you’ll love him less for it. You won’t let him play this game, won’t like if he tries to make you do anything.

Like the sea you’re born from, you’re untameable. You are deadly and wild, angry and calm, salt and water. You can be both beautiful and terrible, and he knows the second he tries to make you his, to keep you and covet you, you’ll destroy him.

Standing on the rail of his ship, you turn to look at him one last time, a frown on your face. “Change the name of your ship, Seungcheol. I don’t like it.”

“Why?” He asks, a grin slicing his face. “It’s named after you, love.”

Your mouth twitches but you don’t smile. You give a short hum and turn without another word, stepping into darkness and vanishing. Your crew of sea wraiths go with you, some jumping over the side of the ship or melting into the floor like they had never existed in the first place.

Seungcheol watches as The Dark Tide begins to sail again. It drifts atop the ocean's surface for a few feet before vanishing into the dark once more. Around him, the crew breaks out into murmurs. Seungcheol stares after the ship, chest aching. His neck feels lighter without the locket settled on his chest, right over his beating heart.

“What was that?” Chan whispers.

Turning, Seungcheol realizes Jeonghan has appeared from the officer’s quarters, half dressed with one eye open, yawning. “Didn’t anyone tell you?” He asks Chan with a yawn. “Our captain is in a relationship with the God of the Underworld and Tide’s favorite child.”

“That was the daughter of Tethrakkos?”

“Aye. And it appears we will be hunting for her heart once more.”

“Ready for sail,” Seungcheol tells Mingyu, spinning to grin at Jeonghan and Chan, who looks mystified. “We have the heart of the sea to catch.”

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn@thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy@gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume@yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries@archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersonaa @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen@mingumis @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp @eunyi@smiileflower @gyuhao365 @thefrozeneternity @heechwe

#seungcheol x you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fanfic #scoups x you #scoups fanfic #scoups x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #pirate seungcheol #pirate scoups #ok tags without any sort of smut or angst are hard lmfaooooo #like how do i even tag this

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hyperfixatedimagines · 5 months ago

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Her: Chapter 1- Casey Novak x f!Reader

Summary: Casey Novak was a sight to see in the courtroom. So who could blame you when you fell in love with her? What others called obsession you called devotion. From the moment you laid eyes on Casey you knew you’d worship at her altar.

A/N: This was inspired by a Casey fanfic with a similar theme. I loved it so much and couldn’t stop thinking about it. I noticed it was deleted, and I hope if the author reads mine they will put it back up. It was so good. I hope I did their idea justice. Please let me know what y’all think.

You sat with your hands cuffed to the table.

A bit overkill, you thought. It’s not as though you were dangerous.

Detective Olivia Benson towered above you.

“We know it was you (y/n),” she said.

You turned to look at the double sided mirror on the other side of the room.

Was she there?

Detective Elliot Stabler moved his chair to block your view of the window. He leaned in close.

“You’re a nice girl (y/n). Why not tell us your side of the story and we can all go home in time for dinner,” he said with a small smile.

You sighed aloud then looked up at Olivia.

“You’ve held me here for hours and I’ve yet to say the four words that would end all of this," you told her, your voice without affect.

Olivia stepped away. "You're not getting away with it."

You shrugged. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I know you have no real evidence tying me to anything.”

Elliot sat back in his chair.

“So why are you still here?”

You smiled. “I want to see her.”

Olivia leaned back against the wall. “You’re never seeing her again.”

You turned to Olivia. “I want Casey, alone, in this room,” you commanded. Then you turned back to Elliot. "Bring her to me, and I’ll sing like a canary."

Elliot looked over at Olivia. He shrugged his shoulders just enough to let you know you had tired them out.

Olivia shook her head and came back towards the table.

She would be a hard one to break, but nothing you couldn't handle.

(Six months before)

Your mentor had encouraged you to observe some trials in preparation for mock court. You were an excellent student but you sometimes failed to perform for your judge and jury.

So on an unremarkable day you walked into the justice building and you sat in on what you thought would be an unremarkable trial.

Then she walked in.

The click clack of her heels against the floor made your ears perk up. You looked up from your notepad and caught a glimpse of her side profile.

Red hair. Red lips.

Red was your favorite color.

You got up and moved to a more advantageous seat.

You watched as the ADA settled in and prepared for court to start.

She was confident, not bothering to pour over the documents in her folders. She was organized, she kept necessary photos at the top of the files.

Her business suit was well tailored. The fabric looked to be a moderately priced type, nothing name brand that you could make out but not something from a cheap department store either.

The collar of the white blouse poked out from underneath her blazer. The first two buttons left undone.

Cheeky but not slutty.

The judge entered and everyone stood.

You tried to gauge her height compared to yours. She had an inch or two on you but you guessed that was due to the heels.

Everyone sat down, the court was in session.

You watched as the ADA, Casey Novak as she had introduced herself, set up traps for the defense.

Then you watched Casey smile every time the defense fell for them.

She was an eloquent orator, with great gravitas, and an uncanny ability to suss out a witness’ weakness.

You were in awe of her.

You couldn’t look away.

You didn’t want to look away.

A familiar hunger grew inside you.

Was she the one?

Would she disappoint you? So many had.

You thought they were different, but they always turned out to be the same.

Then you saw the smirk that spread across her face when the defense fumbled their cross of Casey’s witness.

She was different.

You had to know her.

Casey didn’t notice you at first. She didn’t notice you until she looked over at opposing counsel and saw the way you were staring at her.

Your gaze was penetrating.

Casey adjusted her blazer.

She didn’t just feel undressed by your gaze, she felt unraveled down to her bones.

No one had ever looked at her like that.

She didn’t meet your gaze.

She couldn’t.

Casey was in the middle of court. She looked back at the judge and realized she didn’t know what the judge was talking about.

So she scrambled to make sense of things with the last words that came out of the judges mouth.

But a part of her mind lingered on the feeling of your gaze. On its weight. On the feeling of being seen and seen through.

Your gaze was a spotlight and Casey the performer.

Had you always been there? Casey wondered.

The next day in court Casey looked for you as she walked in. She kept it discrete, her eyes scanned the crowd in the gallery.

She didn’t see you.

Was she disappointed?

Casey got to her table and started to set up. She brought out her files from her briefcase and tried to focus.

Then she felt you.

Casey straightened her back. Her heart started to beat faster.

She didn’t need to look up to know you were there now.

The judge walked out and everyone stood.

Out of the corner of her eye Casey saw you.

Everything about you seemed ordinary.

Everything but the way your eyes honed in on Casey.

Casey figured you were probably a law student, probably doing some extra credit assignment or project.

But that didn’t explain why you stared at her like that, or why Casey felt a mix of unease and excitement.

The gaze of a beautiful woman wasn’t unwelcome in Casey’s book but if you’d been there before why hadn’t you tried to talk to her?

Were you waiting on her to make a move?

“Counselor Novak,” a faraway voice called.

It snapped Casey out of her thoughts.

She looked up at the judge who looked at her expectantly.

“Your first witness counselor,” the judge reiterated dryly.

Casey nodded. “Right.”

She pushed you to the corner of her mind and called her first witness to the stand.

After that first day in court you scoured the internet for all the information you could find about Casey Novak.

She was an ADA for the Manhattan district attorney’s office assigned to the sex crimes division.

She was in her early 30s and her birthstone was sapphire.

Not much of a social media presence but no gaps publicly available files and some light hacking couldn’t fill.

She’d gone to Harvard, you weren’t too shocked. She’d clerked with Judge Mary Clark shortly after law school and started in the white collar division before transferring to sex crimes.

You learned where her office was located, what her current caseload looked like, and made a schedule of all her upcoming court dates.

You’d be sure to attend them all.

But you needed to know more. There were still too many missing pieces in the puzzle that was Casey Novak.

Every part of you wanted to follow her home but it was too soon.

You didn’t want to rush things with Casey. You wanted to do it right this time.

You’d gotten it wrong so many times before but Casey was different.

So you had to be different.

Hours later, after downloading pictures of Casey from her high school softball team, you gathered everything you had learned into one folder and pinned it to your desktop.

The printer called your name, begged you to print the pictures out and post them up on the wall but you couldn’t give in.

You had to do things slowly.

For Casey.

For your future together.

Casey didn’t understand you.

She intentionally cleaned up her files slowly after court the other day so you would come up to her but you didn’t.

You had walked out with the rest of the crowd. You hadn’t even looked back at Casey as you walked out.

Casey wondered that day if the tension between the two of you had been in her imagination.

But then there you were later that day in another one of her hearings.

She thought about confronting you, but the thrill of keeping you a mystery stopped her.

The next day when Casey walked into court her eyes immediately found you.

You were seated in the same place on the pew on the side of the defense. Casey realized it gave you the best view of her.

She felt flattered.

You sat with your nose to the notepad on your lap. You were furiously writing something down but Casey couldn’t make it out.

The second she finished laying out her files Casey felt your gaze on her.

As if on cue.

It was getting harder for Casey to push thoughts of you to the side.

Which meant Casey was slipping, and Casey Novak did not slip.

So she’d have to make a decision about you soon.

Either she confronted you and you ceased to be a mystery or she resigned herself to her conviction rate dropping to 60%.

She had deduced you weren’t a law student. No student was that dedicated to observation.

You were in every one of Casey’s hearings.

She wondered if you attended other court hearings.

A strange feeling of possessiveness washed over Casey at the thought of your gaze on anyone else.

She wasn’t sure why. She had no claim to you. She didn’t even know your name.

Casey felt annoyed she hadn’t figured you out.

If you wouldn’t make the first move then she would.

She couldn’t let you continue to throw her off her game.

You broke your promise.

You told yourself you were going to take things slow with Casey.

But God, look at her.

Who could blame you for wanting to know her outside of a computer screen?

You followed her after court.

You kept it subtle, stayed out of sight, and you didn’t follow her all the way home that first day.

It appeared you had some self restraint after all.

But it didn’t last very long.

A total of three days.

On the fourth day you followed Casey all the way home and watched from a distance as she walked up the stoop to her door.

You knew you couldn’t walk up behind her. She’d certainly notice that.

So your mind raced as you tried not to lose her. You figured your best bet was to get on the rooftop of the building opposite hers and use your binoculars to peer into all the windows facing the street.

Hopefully one of them would be Casey’s and you’d know what floor she was on.

Up you went to the roof. Then you took the binoculars out of your backpack and scanned the face of the building.

Luck was not on your side that night.

The windows that were open for you to see were not Casey’s. She didn’t appear in any of them.

You would have to try again the next night with a better plan.

The following night you set up on the building next to Casey’s instead of across from. There weren’t as many windows but more of them were without blinds or curtains.

You set up on the roof with your telescope. This would give you a much better view.

The night would be long, especially during a bitter New York winter, but you brought a thermos of coffee to keep you warm. Coffee just the way Casey ordered it from her favorite coffee shop.

You knew almost everything about her now.

You knew where her favorite coffee shop was, what her order was, where she went when her favorite shop was packed, where she liked to get lunch and dinner from, and where she went to decompress on her weekends.

All you needed now was her apartment number.

Knowing what floor she was on would be a good enough start.

The windows that faced you were mostly bedroom windows with fire escapes or smaller bathroom windows.

This wouldn’t be easy.

But you didn’t want it easy.

So you camped out most of the night, scanning all available windows for any sign of Casey.

Hours passed with no luck.

There had to be an easier way.

At two in the morning you figured it would be best to pack up and try again another night.

But just before you looked away from your telescope you spotted red hair when a bathroom’s light flickered on.

Could it be Casey?

You twisted the knob on the side of the scope to get a closer look.

You focused it and managed to catch a glimpse of the redhead through the bathroom mirror.

It was Casey.

You smiled.

You got her.

You looked up from the telescope and noted the floor it was on.

Progress.

You had her floor number and knew what side of the building she was on. Now all you needed was the apartment number.

For that you had an idea.

The next day you showed up to Casey’s building.

You knew she was in court so you wouldn’t run the risk of running into her.

Not seeing Casey in her element gnawed at you but the sacrifice would be worth it.

The building manager stepped out onto the stoop to meet you. He shook your hand and led you to the apartments that were for rent.

None of the apartments for rent were on Casey’s floor but they did give you a better idea of how hers was laid out. The building manager had let it slip, every apartment had the same floor plan.

Armed with more knowledge you went to Casey’s favorite coffee shop and got to work. You had sent a virus to the building manager’s computer and he had fallen right into your trap.

He unknowingly granted you access to his network.

Apartment 548.

You let out a deep breath.

It was mid afternoon and you knew you didn’t have enough time to let yourself into Casey’s apartment.

Not on Thursdays.

But not all was lost.

You walked back to Casey’s apartment building and took pictures of the outside. You calculated the best vantage point for observation would be the apartment that faced hers in the building next door.

You’d definitely owe your wife an explanation for the $10k you’d taken out of the joint banking account to buy some random guy’s apartment from him but it would all be worth it.

That night when Casey walked through her front door you were set up in the apartment you had bought with your telescope aimed right at her bedroom.

The light of her bedroom flickered on and you watched with baited breath as Casey entered and started to undress herself.

The curtains made it hard to see but your specialized telescope made the most of the small gap between them.

Casey walked out of frame and you sighed.

You needed more.

So tomorrow you would miss Casey’s hearing for the third time to let yourself in and set up cameras that allowed for perfect observation.

Your phone rang.

It was your wife.

Casey was starting to feel crazy. She couldn’t stop thinking about you.

First the problem was that you were in court every day staring at her like she was water in the middle of the desert and now the problem was you weren’t in court every day staring at her.

Casey felt the coldness of your absence.

It made her no less distracted in court.

She was so off her game even others had noticed.

Just when she had decided to confront you, you up and disappeared.

Maybe it was for the best, Casey told herself.

With you gone she could focus.

But the sinking feeling in her stomach when she walked into court and noticed your absence once again told her it would be impossible.

(Back in the interrogation room)

It was a few hours after Olivia and Elliot had left you for a second time.

You closed your eyes and thought of Casey. You thought of the last time you had seen her.

Your face soured.

You had to see her. You had to explain.

The door started to open and from the smell the breeze brought in you knew she had arrived.

You opened your eyes and there she was.

Casey stood in the doorway, Olivia and Elliot behind her.

Eyes swollen and bloodshot, her lip cut and bruised. Her left arm was in a sling.

You hadn’t meant for that to happen. You had carefully planned everything.

But the SVU detectives ruined it all

It was their fault your Casey had gotten hurt.

Casey didn’t meet your gaze as she limped into the room and sat down in the chair opposite you.

Olivia started to close the door. She reminded Casey they’d be outside if she needed them.

Casey nodded. She still wasn’t looking at you.

She was mad at you.

But it wasn’t your fault.

It was the detectives' fault.

You frowned and tried to reach out for her.

The handcuffs on your wrists stopped you.

You sighed.

“Casey,” you began, but she cut you off.

“I loved you (y/n),” she said, her voice thick with pain.

Your heart twisted hearing her like that.

But you’d fix it.

Casey looked up and met your gaze, finally.

You smiled at her.

Her face was a mixture of anger and regret.

“Why did you do this?” She asked.

Your smile dropped. “I didn’t do anything Casey. I love you.”

Casey scoffed. “You’re a monster,” she spat.

You winced. You hated that word.

It was such an ugly word.

You were just a girl in love.

Love could never be monstrous.

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu imagines #casey novak imagine #casey novak x female reader

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lunarmothim · 6 months ago

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shadowbound- john price x reader

part i: prague - the patch had been left on your doorstep two months ago, the threat clear. it was a warning, the only headstart you were going to get.

word count: 4.4k tags/warnings: language, assassination attempt, abduction, brief torture, allusions to ghost's backstory. price is an asshole and reader is a menace. afab reader.

notes: is it overly ambitious of me to start two series at the same time? probably. am i gonna do it anyway? absolutely. idk what this is really, i just wanted to do a bit of a reader on the lam kinda thing, bit of a hunter/hunted dynamic ;)

this has been edited! about 200 extra words, bit of clean up. chapter 2 will also be getting some edits for continuity :)

Prague had been an impulse decision. A dart thrown at a map, a large city with a population of over a million and a booming tourism industry, plenty of places to hide. A fake passport had gotten you over the border of Czechia easily enough, but with how far you wanted- needed- to run, only the real deal was getting you back out.

Which is how you find yourself sitting at a quaint cafe on the river, exposed and anxious, trying your level best to pretend to be a normal person, a regular nine-to-fiver just enjoying a cup of overpriced and overly sweet coffee and a Danish the kind cashier had sweet-talked you into buying. The key word being trying, because you're anything but a nine-to-fiver- you're not normal, and you shouldn't be here, out in the open and so fucking vulnerable.

You need the documents you'd paid way too much for way too badly to leave, though.

So you sit there, sweeping the area again as you sip your coffee, willing your rapidly bouncing knee and the fingers tapping against perforated cast aluminum to be fucking still. You try to quell the rapid staccato of your heartbeat drumming painfully against your ribs, to fill your lungs with careful, measured inhales, to expel the anxiety in each exhale. It doesn't work. It never works. Your knee continues to bounce, your fingers continue to tap, your eyes continue to dart across every face you see until you settle on them.

Two men sitting at a table nearby, clearly trying to blend in just as much as you are but are far too tense for the early morning ambiance of a quiet Prague cafe, and oh god, are they looking at you? They're dressed casually, but the way they hold themselves screams Military. Danger. Your shoulders tense as you lift your gaze from them to pretend you're just looking around, but your knee finally goes still as you prepare yourself to run.

Even more concerning than the men, though, is the slight glint of light you see atop one of the buildings across the street.

Fuck. You're moving without thinking about it, clearing the railing surrounding the patio half a second before the shot splits the air and a bullet lodges in the wall near where your head had just been. Startled screams, muffled by the blood rushing in your ears, shatter the still tranquility of the morning, and you have to duck as the brickwork of the wall you're sprinting past explodes under the impact of another bullet.

Rapid heartbeat pulsing more adrenaline through your veins, you duck down the nearest alleyway you pass, another shot striking the ground behind you as you run full-tilt toward the railing you can see at the far end of the alley, blocking the short drop to the river below. A gruff voice yells something unintelligible behind you, but you pay it no mind as you jump, planting a sure foot on the iron and launching into the air. You suck in as deep a breath as you can manage, straightening your entire body into one sleek line as you plunge down into the icy water of the Vltava.

The shock of the cold nearly punches the air right back out of your lungs. You fight the heavy drag of your clothes as you swim up, gasping in a breath when your head breaks the surface, opening your eyes to look around for your escape route. You're relatively safe for now, the sniper's sightline blocked by the buildings lining the river and the levees along the bank, but you only have so long before they find a new vantage point and a lot less cover in the water.

The chatter of your teeth aches deep in your jaw as you swim to the opposite side of the river, hauling yourself up the levee. Ignoring the startled noises of the people walking along the bank you spare one last glance behind you, scanning the horizon for another scope flash and disappearing into the crowd when you don't find one.

You keep your head on a swivel as you wind through the gaggle of tourists and locals alike, people side-stepping out of your way and giving you curious looks as they take in your sopping state. You glance at each of them in turn, looking for anyone who lingers a moment too long, fully aware of your environment even as your mind races a mile a minute. Given how easily you'd been found at the cafe, it feels safe to assume your apartment had been compromised- not that you kept much there, your important belongings packed away in a backpack at the train station for situations just like this one. In that vein, it also raises the possibility that your contact had been burned, too, and now you were going to have to figure out another way out of this damn country. That is a complication, an irritation, but also a problem for another day.

Right now, you need to get your bag and get the hell out of this city.

The train station is relatively packed this time of day, people boarding and unboarding en masse on their way to work or wherever else they spend their days, and it's easy to blend in despite your still dripping clothes, weaving through the crowd until you reach a tall row of orange lockers. You fit the key into the lock on yours when you crouch down, pulling out your go bag and giving it a quick once over before zipping back up and tossing the key into the bottom of the locker.

With your lifeline secured, you allow yourself the tiniest sigh of relief- you're one step closer to freedom. You'll get to a different city, figure out the passport situation once you're somewhere safe.

Slinging your pack over your shoulder, you push up to your feet, turning back toward the exit… and freezing.

You're staring down the barrel of a gun, and one of the men from the cafe is holding it.

Wide eyes travel up the suppressor, over the sleek black body of the pistol, and up to assess the man, quickly taking in stern blue eyes under a black toque tugged snugly down to his ears, mouth set into a scowl amidst a questionable beard choice, brown mutton chops shot through with salt and pepper. He has a broad build- broad shoulders, broad chest, with brawny arms and thick, powerful thighs. He looks like a man who could crack you in half without breaking a sweat, and his partner, a few steps behind him with a weapon and a questionable hair choice of his own, is built the same.

Well, you can't help but think as you slowly raise your hands to show that they're empty, if I'm about to die at least my executioners are nice to look at.

"Who are you?" The man in the back with the mohawk barks in a thick Scottish brogue, piercing blue eyes fixed as firmly on you as his gun is.

"Does it matter?" you answer carefully, and you can tell they're not expecting an American accent by the way Mutton Chops inhales sharply, drawing your gaze back to him, to the pistol still pointed between your eyes. "You can't detain me like this, I've done nothing wrong."

"You were shot at in broad daylight on a crowded street," Mutton Chops growls back, and you can't help but flinch at that. Now that you're not in active danger- from that threat, at least- you wonder if anyone had gotten hurt in your attempts to get away from the sniper. "You can imagine why we might have some questions. Startin' with your name."

His tone suggests there's no room for argument but you mull it over for a moment all the same, narrowing your eyes at him. Blood zings copper against your tongue as you chew the inside of your cheek, considering whether you should be honest, lie, or just keep your mouth shut.

The decision is made for you when Mutton Chops' finger shifts on the trigger guard. You spit your name out through gritted teeth, eyes flitting between both men as you weigh your odds of getting away if you just hit them with your backpack and make a run for it. Low, if your assessment of them at the cafe had been correct and they are military. You'd probably be dead before you got the first strap off your shoulder.

"Why were ye bein' shot at?" Mohawk again, eyes cold and calculating as he sizes you up. He doesn't look like he knows what to make of you or this situation you'd all found yourselves in.

"Ask the cunt who shot at me," you snap, and you regret it in an instant when the barrel of the gun closes those last couple of inches to press to your forehead. You shrink back at the cold, unforgiving kiss of steel, trying to game some semblance of distance, but all it does is bump your backpack against the lockers behind you. This draws attention to your pack, and before you can blink Mutton Chops is grabbing you by the arm and yanking you around, pulling your backpack off with one hand and tossing it to Mohawk, the other firm between your shoulderblades as he shoves you into the lockers. Fuck. It takes everything in you to keep your cool, turning your head to look at them from the corner of your eye. "Fuckin' hell, at least ask before you manhandle me-"

"Shut up." The hand on your back pushes harder, forcing you to exhale with a soft wheeze. Mohawk is digging through your backpack, tossing your belongings carelessly to the floor, and your heart leaps into your throat when he pulls out your gun. The suppressed pistol touches the back of your neck in response to the discovery, stormy blue eyes meeting what little of yours he can see.

"What's this, then?" Mohawk asks, holding up your P890 with a raised brow and a harsh frown.

"You were holdin' one not two minutes ago and you don't know what a gun is?" Pissing them off is a bad, bad idea, but you can't help the sarcastic comment that slips from your mouth. Mohawk's lips press into a tight, irritated line, and the gun digs in- right at the base of your skull, where your spine meets your cranium. It'll be quick at least, painless probably, but right now that bite of metal hurts. "Ow, fuck-"

"Quiet." Mutton Chops pushes harder, and you whimper as the metal of what feels like a combination lock digs painfully into your chest. From the corner of your eye you see him glance at Mohawk, still throwing your scant belongings to the ground. "Gonna guess you don't have a permit for that thing?"

"Can't be quiet and answer your questions at the same time," you wheeze, planting your hands against the lockers. The slight push against the metal to give your chest room to expand properly pushes you back into the gun at your neck. "Make up your mind-"

Something dark, something dangerous, something that screams at you to run, run fast and run fucking far, flashes in his narrowed eyes, a storm over the ocean. This is it, you think, squeezing your own shut in response as the gun digs further into your spine. I went and ran my stupid mouth, pushed too hard, and now I'm going to die for it.

But the shot never comes. Both men are dead silent, and when you dare to slowly crack your eyes open to look, you see why. A circular patch sits in Mohawk's hand, a grey remnant of your past life with worn stitching where your thumb had rubbed over it repeatedly. The patch that had been left on your doorstep two months ago, the threat clear.

It was a warning, the only head start you were going to get. It was all they'd left, not even a note to tell you why- though you could guess- but you'd heard your commander's voice in your head clear as day. I'm comin' for ya, and I like to play with my food. Run.

"We need to leave, now," Mutton Chops barks suddenly, and you barely have time to process before his gun is off the back of your neck and the hand between your shoulderblades is grabbing you roughly by the bicep. A yelp of pain and surprise is ripped from your lungs when he hauls you away from the lockers, leaving your belongings scattered across the platform as he drags you toward the stairs leading back up to the street.

"Get off me!" Your angry shout goes entirely ignored, both by your unexpected captors and the people passing by that avert their gazes at the sight of their weapons. His hand is a vice on your arm, pulling you along like you weigh nothing despite your attempts to dig in your heels. Too open up there, too exposed. "Fucking let go-"

"Not a chance." All of the air rushes out of you when Mutton Chops slams you face-first into the tile wall of the staircase so hard you're sure the handrail will leave a bruise across your stomach. He holsters his gun just long enough to wrench both of your arms behind your back and secure your wrists with zip-cuffs, and the fierce, raw anger in his eyes that you catch in your periphery has you shrinking in on yourself, making yourself small under his fury. "You're gonna come with us, and if you don't wanna tell us why you have a fuckin' Shadow Company patch on ya, we'll make you tell us."

Your mouth goes dry at the implication. "Torture is a war crime."

"I prefer the term enhanced interrogation." With that he yanks you away from the wall again, dragging you kicking and fighting up the last few stairs to where a van is waiting on the curb. He's not nice about it when he slides open the side door and throws you bodily into the interior, and the only thing that keeps you from slamming into the far side of the van is a pair of legs belonging to another man who lets out a surprised noise. "Bag her."

The door slams, and for the second time in what feels like hours but has probably only been ten, fifteen minutes at most, there are unwanted hands on you.

These hands are surprisingly gentle though, lifting your head to fit a stale-smelling black bag over your head, leaving you bound and blinded. Defenseless.

"Sorry about this, love," a kind voice murmurs, but you know better than to trust it- you've seen the good cop, bad cop routine before. They must run it often if, even in the confusion you'd seen on his face when the van door opened, he'd immediately fallen into his role.

"Go fuck yourself," you growl, twisting at the zip-cuffs. You're not getting out of them, but it makes you feel a little better to pretend.

"Watch yer ankles, Gaz, she's a feisty one," the Scot's voice sounds like it's off somewhere in front of you, the passenger seat maybe, an edge of amusement in his tone. Gaz. One name out of three. A nickname, maybe, or a callsign. "Bit like a feral cat, might bite."

"You can fuck right off, too," you spit at him, tugging more intently against the zip-cuffs binding your wrists. You should really quit while you're ahead, shut up before they decide it's too much trouble and just shoot you and dump you back in the Vltava, but you're cold, you're wet, and you're pissed.

Maybe feral cat wasn't too far off.

"Watch it, princess, or you'll get some duct tape too." The new voice has you stopping cold. Definitely English, deep and gravelly and edged with a deadpan kind of danger that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Something tells you that Mutton Chops' handling of you had been a gentle tickle compared to what this man could do to you.

But your mother had always said you had more guts than sense. "Eat a bag of dicks, you fucking cunt-"

"Kid's got a foul mouth on her," Mutton Chops' voice filters back from the front, and you growl under your breath. "Duct tape's not a bad idea."

"Got some righ' here, Captain," the Scot says cheerfully, and you bristle at how easily you'd been dismissed as a threat if they feel comfortable enough to joke around in front of you. You force yourself to focus on the second identifier instead- a rank. Definitely military, then.

"So what's the story here, anyway?" the one called Gaz asks, and you feel a boot nudge your leg. The tap has you growling, squirming your body across the uncomfortable metal of the van's floor to get away from it. He hauls you right back with an almost embarrassing ease. "We come here to meet an informant and end up with a random American?"

"This." The rip of velcro, and a sharp whistle cuts through the vehicle, followed by a quiet grunt.

"What's a Shadow doin' in Prague?" the deep voice rumbles.

"That's what we're gonna find out."

When the van stops you focus on the opening and subsequent slamming of doors. The side door slides open and you lunge immediately in the direction of the breeze you feel against your skin- you don't make it very far before hands are grabbing you again. Your feet are barely under you before they're dragging you over what feels like loose gravel, up a short set of steps, over a threshold, up a longer set of steps. Safehouse. Two floors at least.

You're shoved bodily into a chair, and you squint against the sudden intrusion of light as the bag is ripped off your head, wincing when several strands of hair go with it. Your gaze flits around the room, skating over the four men that come into focus in favor of cataloguing every minute detail of the room from the frigid metal beneath your thighs to how the small space is devoid of anything but a table shoved against the wall next to the door.

Once you've taken in what little you can of your surroundings, you let yourself look at the men. The first to catch your gaze is Mutton Chops- the captain- towering over you, brawny arms folded over his chest. He's flanked to his left by Mohawk, leering at you with a wolfish grin that shows far too many teeth, and to the right a tall black man with dark eyes shadowed by a faded blue ball cap.

A few steps behind them all is the largest man you've ever seen. Built like a brick shithouse, you have to crane your head back until it hurts to see his face, and a violent shiver rolls straight down your spine when all you see is dead, empty eyes staring back at you through the holes in a piece of skull sewn into a black balaclava.

Fear twists like a hot knife in your gut- you know just looking at him that all the others had been child's play so far. This one looks like he could crush the life out of you with one large hand. He looks like he'd enjoy it.

Your train of thought is broken when the captain crouches down to your eye level, and you have to force yourself to drag your gaze away from the man in the skull mask to meet his cold blue stare. "Here's how this is gonna work. You're gonna tell us why you have this-" he holds up the patch, making sure you can see the rook and spade logo stitched into it- "truthfully. If you lie, if you refuse to talk, we'll have to resort to more… encouraging methods."

"Given how you treated me on the platform, I'm surprised you didn't want to start with that," you taunt, and at the same time you want to kick yourself- tell yourself to shut the fuck up because what exactly do you hope to accomplish by continuing to rile up men who aren't above torturing you for answers? You must have a fucking death wish. Still, you can't stop yourself from sticking your foot further into your mouth, lowering your voice and leaning closer to his face. "Bet you get off on that shit, don't you, Captain ? Pushing women around, trying to scare 'em. Hurting them." Something flashes in his eyes before they harden into steel, fingers crushing the patch into his palm.

"Last chance."

"Fuck you."

"Have it your way. Ghost." The captain rises, nodding to the man in the skull mask before leading the other two out of the room. The door slams shut behind them, leaving you alone with the one he'd called Ghost.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. "What's with the mask? You ugly under there or somethin'?" The only response you get is dead silence, not even the sound of his footsteps as he walks over to the table and starts laying out his weapons. You imagine he's probably heard the question a million times, but that doesn't keep you from poking, distracting yourself from the leather bundle he's currently rolling out across the table. "I get it, I guess. If I was torturing innocent people I wouldn't want them to see my face, either."

"Never met an innocent Shadow." In this enclosed space you can almost feel the deep timbre of his voice vibrating in your bones. He's slow, methodical as he runs his fingers along the tools he's laid out, picking some of them up and examining them before putting them down again. What he's doing isn't lost on you- he wants you to see. An intimidation tactic, one you'll never tell him is working. "You have until I turn around to change your mind and start talkin'."

"Are you deaf? I've been doing nothing but talking-"

"Defense mechanism, yeah?" He picks up a wicked looking combat knife, turning it over in his gloved hands. You watch the motion, note the pattern of bones on the back of the gloves to match his mask- at least he's committed to the aesthetic. "You're scared, so you're runnin' your mouth. Seen it before. Everyone breaks eventually."

Satisfied with his choice he turns slowly, those dead eyes meeting yours again. He's idly running a finger along the edge of the blade, gaze boring into yours with an intensity that makes your earlier interaction with the captain feel like a childhood staring contest.

"Maybe I had it wrong earlier," you muse, tipping your head back to keep your eyes on his as he stalks toward you, ignoring that twist of fear, shoving it down to a rolling boil in your gut. "Maybe you're the one that gets off on hurting women."

You aren't expecting a reaction- nothing you've said so far has gotten anything more than cold indifference from him, but that stops him in his tracks. You can see the line of his shoulders go taut, a tense muscle ticking in his jaw beneath the mask as he processes what you've said, and the brief flash of something you see in his eyes feels almost familiar.

It almost looks like fear.

You can't help but prod at it.

"What, I hit a nerve?"

You must have, because he closes that last bit of distance in two long strides to crouch down in front of you, the hand not holding the knife grabbing you by the jaw with bruising force. His eyes are narrowed and absolutely frigid- whatever you'd seen there before is gone, replaced by a fury that, were you standing, would bring you to your knees.

"I don't get off on it," he growls, fingers squeezing into your cheeks like he's trying to impress his fingerprints into your teeth. "I'm doin' my job. That job is to deal with threats." You can't help a gasp when he releases you with a solid push of your head, but he doesn't stand up.

Instead, he brings that knife up to drag it slowly along your thigh- not enough to break the skin, but to remind you that it's there. The promise of what's to come if you don't start telling him exactly what he wants to hear.

It's a familiar threat, and a tired sort of resignation settles over you as you watch the blade catch on your jeans, ripping a tiny hole in the dark denim. The tip presses slowly into your thigh until flesh splits beneath the steel, and oh god it burns, but you just drag a sharp breath through your teeth at the sight of the blood beading on your skin, staining the steel crimson.

He stops there, just the tip of the blade pressed into your skin, his eyes burning holes into your skull. "Tell me 'bout the patch."

For the first time since they'd taken you in the train station, you're silent. He takes it for what it is, and you exhale slowly as he drags the knife down your thigh. Steady, perfect. It'll scar nicely, you think, cocking your head to the side as the blade digs in slightly deeper near your knee. Not like the ugly, unsightly scars the commander had left across your torso and back.

Suddenly the blade flicks up to your chin, pressing into the soft flesh and forcing you to tilt your head up until you meet his eyes again. His stare is almost curious, detached but still scrutinizing, searching for something. You stare right back, wondering what he's looking for, what he sees.

Ghost is a lot harder to read than the captain and the Scot had been, more of an unknown. You don't like unknowns, don't like anything you can't predict, and you think you could spend years trying to decipher even some small part of the man in front of you and get absolutely no where. On a primal level, that irritating little instinct scratching at your hindbrain, that terrifies you.

"Hm." The noise draws your attention, eyes refocusing slightly on the skull mask in front of you. You watch wordlessly as he rises to his feet again, setting the knife on the table and rapping twice on the door. You can hear hushed whispers when it opens, see the captain shaking his head. The door shuts again, and your eyes track Ghost picking something else up from the table- the hood you'd worn in here.

He drops it unceremoniously over your head before noisily cleaning up his tools and leaving you alone in the dark.

part one - masterlist - part two

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :) top/bottom divider by: me line divider by: @/saradika-graphics

#john price #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #ktwrites #shadowbound #this has nothing to do with my other price post #i just think it's neat :)

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fushitoru · 9 months ago

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sneak peek of bridgerton!nanami :3

tw: not edited, not all of this will make the final cut. posting this just for pooks who are curious as to what this series will look like (roughly)

The hooded figure walks through the streets of London, shaded by both the weathered buildings and the murk of night.The ancient stone edifices, worn by time and weather, cast long shadows beneath the pale gaze of the moon, which alone dared to illuminate the sky. Yet, with unwavering certainty, the figure moved. With a purpose.

To any onlooker, discerning the figure's build would have been an impossible task. Indeed, should any be so bold as to observe, they would perceive nothing more than the methodical rhythm of their footfalls. For this hooded figure was not merely hidden by the night; they were a master of stealth, a virtuoso of ambition.

They get closer and closer to the streets with lines and lines of presses and bookshops before finally stepping into one. The jingle of the bell rings as they open the door, cutting the silence like a knife to butter. The press boy looks up languidly from his desk, lazed back even if the hooded figure is tense, as if scared to get discovered.

The figure uses their hand to get the hood out of their eyes, to reveal their face and level the boy with a firm stare. You brush your hair back and rummage through your cloak to get the draft out of your pocket You toss it onto the desk, your voice adopting the clipped tone of a forced French accent, as you make an attempt at a scowl. “My lady has a fresh edition for you. See that it is prepared for dawn next week. We shall tolerate no delays, unlike the last time. Do I make myself plain?”

At once, the boy shot to his feet, stiffening at the sight of Lady Whistledown’s errand runner. The mere mention of that name had a way of stirring the press into action. Her words, the most profitable the press had ever published, had lifted the establishment—and the boy’s own family—from the very brink of ruin. Lady Whistledown’s business was the press’s lifeblood, and as such, the boy offered a tip of his hat. “Whatever Lady Whistledown requires.”

Satisfied, you lift your chin, already turning to retreat into the night. Three blocks south, one north, where the footman awaits. Slip in from the rear entrance, climb the stairs in silence—especially near Naoya’s floor—and at last, embrace the comfort of your bed.

For heaven forbid that anyone in the Zen’in household should ever learn of this affair.

…

Nanami Kento was a man of method, clean-cut and sharp as a newly whetted blade. There is a formula for everything, and Kento will have it figured out as the situation deems it.

Yet even the most precise systems were not without flaw, for he found himself silently cursing whatever God governed such things. The cruel design of his personal formula now demanded that he sit up well past midnight, slaving over endless documents concerning his estates, and some infernal matter involving the mines his dukedom held in the Americas. For if there was one thing Nanami Kento loathed above all else, it was working late into the night, long after a sensible bedtime.

It’s not the least of his problems, no. No, indeed, a greater torment awaited him in the drawing room over tea each morning—a daily trial set by his dear, relentless mother.

"My darling Kento, when shall I be graced with the pleasure of a daughter-in-law?"

The question, as constant as the ticking of a clock, prompted Kento to reach for a cloth, which he draped over his eyes in an attempt to stave off the inevitable headache that brewed with her words. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his legs, his tired frame aching with fatigue, and ran a hand through his hair as a soft sigh escaped him.

The age-old question, indeed. Before, it was easier to not feel rushed in finding a wife, for his trio of friends were all bachelors. But as soon as his mother got wind that his infamous rake of a friend Gojo got married—to a now Lady Gojo—he could only count the days before his mother went to the extreme, perhaps even hiring a band of kidnappers to haul him to the nearest chapel for a hasty wedding.

Perhaps there was indeed something Kento hated more than working late. It was being rushed.

Not that Kento had any disdain for the institution of marriage itself. Far from it. It was a fine and noble thing, love and matrimony. He would never deny the pleasures and stability it offered. No, it was the manner in which he was expected to marry. His mind drifted to the endless parade of eligible ladies he had met at balls, soirees, and tea parties. They were all pleasant enough, some even kind, but none had ever managed to intrigue him, none had done anything to stand out. The same conversations, the same rehearsed smiles. Every introduction followed the same pattern: languages spoken, instruments played, the latest embroidery project or song learned.

He could already picture it—another ball, another young lady offering the same colection of accomplishments as the last. It was all so dreadfully repetitive. They rarely discussed ideas or had opinions of their own, and when they did, they were inevitably interrupted by their eager mothers, who hovered nearby, eyes gleaming at the thought of his title and fortune. The moment any conversation strayed beyond pleasantries, there was always a well-timed intrusion, as if the mothers feared their daughters might accidentally reveal too much of their true selves.

He wanted something more.

Marriage, in Kento's eyes, ought to be built on love, on mutual understanding and respect. He longed for a partner who would challenge him intellectually, who would bring something new to his life. But instead, he was presented with the same tired formula—a woman who played the pianoforte, spoke French, and blushed prettily when asked about her embroidery. It was all so... predictable.

Another sigh escaped him, this one deeper, more resigned. He shifted in his chair, folding the cloth over his eyes, and let his mind drift toward the inevitable dinner tomorrow, where his mother would no doubt regale him with yet another list of eligible young ladies.

"My dearest Kento," she would say, her voice sweet as ever, "Lady Brentwood’s daughter is a delightful young woman. A touch excitable, perhaps, but from a good family, and her dowry—oh, her dowry, my dear, would be the envy of the ton."

Nanami could almost hear the words already. He had heard similar speeches before, all delivered with that same fervent enthusiasm, as though his mother were speaking of a prized mare, rather than a potential life partner.

What was worse, as soon as the mothers caught wind of his presence at any event, they nearly salivated at the chance to secure a duke for their daughters. The constant interruptions, the fawning over his title, it all grated on him. The daughters rarely had the opportunity to finish a thought before their mothers swooped in, ensuring that their prospects remained intact.

It was no wonder Kento had grown weary of the entire process.

He let out a low groan, rubbing his temples. Perhaps love was too much to ask for in his station. Yet, despite the pressure, he could not bring himself to compromise. He wanted a marriage that meant something—a bond of intellect and heart, not just convenience.

"Kento," he muttered to himself, "you are truly doomed."

sorry for starving you guys on bridgerton!gojo content haha this is a sneak peak for reparations. anyways lemme get back to the grind. if you ever want to track my progress, i keep my wips page updated :)

also thank you to the influx of bridgerton!gojo asks. they really motivate me to write. appreciate u all <3

oh and final note: will not publish this series until we're close to the end of bridgerton!gojo, i CANNOT do two series at a time

#aashi yaps #nanami x reader #bridgerton!nanami

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justatiredghost · 16 days ago

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Udurgh ch1 ao3

Jonathan Sims, newly appointed Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, is sent to a steppe town to retrieve research from one Gertrude Robinson, and then he will be free to spend a few days learning about the local culture and mythology of this strange place. Too bad nothing can ever seem to go as planned. He arrives to find the town in chaos. Gertrude is dead, murdered, and the trains can’t leave due to rumors of a plague. Something doesn’t quite sit right with him, though. The accounts of this illness remind him too much of statements he’d read back at the Institute. Hopefully he and the assistant librarian who volunteered to help him can get to the bottom of this before they all die.

(aka a Pathologic AU)

It was highly undignified, having to sit in the cargo section of a train amongst crates of goods, but the conductor had assured John that there had been no other options. It was either this, or return to the Magnus Institute empty handed, which of course was hardly an option. He needed this job. And, on some level, he was looking forward to it.

Retrieving research from a colleague and spending a few days learning about the local legends and culture sounded more like a holiday than anything. The fact that it was having a rather unpleasant start didn’t mean anything. He could do this. It would get better.

He was currently sitting on his coat to afford himself that little bit of comfort between him and the wooden floor, clutching his papers close. He’d made sure to bring all necessary legal papers in case anyone tried to stop him, and he even had his orders from his boss, Elias Bouchard. He was fairly well known and respectable in academia, surely his wishes would be respected if anyone tried to question John.

He had never been outside of the city before and he was perhaps more paranoid than he needed to be, but he just wasn’t sure what to expect. He thought he’d prepared for everything, but that was before a woman startled him by climbing out of a coffin on the far side of the train car. All he could do was gape in confusion, suddenly forgetting how to speak.

“Ah, hello,” she said as he closed the lid and sat down primly on top of it. “Not typically how I tend to travel, coffins aren’t usually my thing, but it is a touch ironic. What about you? Travel in coffins much?”

“N-no, can’t say I have,” John said, floundering.

“Annabelle,” he said.

“Jonathan. Sims,” he said, words stilted as he tried to get a handle on what the hell was happening.

“Well,” she said. “I think great things are going to happen in the weeks to come. Don't you?”

“I suppose,” he said. “I’m just a researcher.”

Well, Archivist, now, he supposed, what with his recent promotion. He didn’t think he needed to explain all that to Annabelle, though.

“Well, I wish you luck,” she said simply.

“Y-you too?”

Annabelle didn’t appear to be all that talkative. Once their introductions were complete, they fell into an uneasy silence. Well, it felt uneasy to John. Annabelle seemed completely content to sit there and ignore him. Eventually, John shoved his documents into his breast pocket and pulled his coat around himself before rolling over to get some sleep. If she planned to kill him, there wasn’t much he could really do about it anyway. Might as well get it over with.

He was dreaming. At least, he was pretty sure he was dreaming, because he wasn’t on the train anymore. He was walking across the steppe, able to see far into the distance with no buildings or trees to block his view. Looking behind him, it didn’t even seem like he was walking down any sort of path. Odd. At least it was a lovely day and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the sun.

Opening his eyes again, he froze. There, on the horizon, was a smear of black. He didn’t know what it was, smoke maybe? There were insects that could swarm so thick that they looked like dark clouds from a distance, but it wasn’t the right season or region for them, but he had no idea what else it could be.

Regardless, he didn’t particularly want to find out, so he turned around— and immediately stepped into a dark cloud of what appeared to be ash. It was all around him, now, blotting out the sun and obscuring his vision. Turning around again, he couldn’t see the clear patch he’d been standing on. It was as if it had simply fallen down all around him, covering the entire area in the blink of an eye with no warning.

He was too late to hold his breath and coughed violently as he inhaled the particulates. It didn’t exactly taste like wood ash, but he tried not to think about that. Instead, he quickly pulled the collar of his coat up around his mouth and held it there in place. He wasn’t sure it would do much, but it had to be better than nothing.

With no other options, he stumbled forward. He had to find shelter of some kind, preferably another person who could offer assistance of some kind and explain what the hell was happening. Whatever this was, he was fairly certain he’d die out here unprotected like this. Even breathing just ash and smoke could kill him.

He saw a large shadow looming out of the darkness and, with a thrill of hope, he sped up. It was odd, he hadn’t seen anything before when he’d had a clear view of the skyline, but maybe he’d just missed it. Or maybe it was a rock formation that had blended into the scenery. That meant it was likely to be a cave and that would do well enough for the moment and he sped up in his relief. Once there, he could make a plan. This— whatever this was, couldn’t last forever.

He slipped on something and only had a moment to register that it had felt soft and slick and then he landed painfully on his hands and knees with a horrible squelch. Looking down at the ground, now, he saw that there seemed to be some sort of putrid liquid covering the ground, he could barely see bits of grass poking up through it, as well as glistening chunks of— something. And the smell was overwhelming, nearly causing him to wretch.

With a disgusted cry he scrambled to his feet, his hands and legs covered in the disgusting fluid, and he tried not to wretch. He looked up in the direction of the form he had seen and cried out as he came face to face with the rotting carcass of a massive bull. Its head alone was several times larger than John, he’d never seen anything like it. But the state it was in distracted him from the size.

Its glassy eyes stared blankly, its flesh sunken in as it decayed. And then he noticed the insects. There were maggots or small worms or something burrowing into the flesh of the great beast. His stomach turned as he realized the liquid he was now partially covered in had to come from the beast, a putrefied combination of blood and flesh, and the chunks seemed to be bits of flesh and organs.

He wanted to get out of there, he needed to get as far away from this thing as possible, his skin itching with fandom insects and he didn’t think he’d ever feel clean again. He somehow knew he was in grave danger, especially when the insects began to sing. Thousands, millions of voices crying out in ecstasy and rage, making him shudder, forming a single word.

“Archivist.”

How could they know who he was? He’d only just gotten this promotion. What did they want with him? He took a stumbling step back from this horrible sight, ready to turn and flee but so afraid any movement would draw the attention of all of those horrid worms. And then, impossibly, the long-dead bull’s eyes widened in terror and it raised its head to bellow—

And then John was sitting up from his makeshift nest on the train, the steady rocking suddenly feeling more soothing than annoying simply because it didn’t sound like those writhing worms. Blessedly he couldn’t smell the rot anymore, and as he slowly got his bearings and caught his breath, the dream-terror was beginning to fade.

He couldn’t help but notice that his companion and her coffin were gone and he wondered how long he’d been asleep and dreaming. With an annoyed huff, he turned over and tried to go back to sleep. This truly was going to be a miserable train ride.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #Teaholding #pathologic #Udurgh fic

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posttexasstressdisorder · 2 days ago

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Big Sur official says failed land sale plan was peak Republican 'cruelty'

'Nobody's going to put housing here'

Classic view of the rugged coastal headlands of Big Sur, Calif.Getty Images

By Andrew Pridgen, Central Coast Contributing EditorJune 25, 2025

As Senate Republicans wheel and deal this week over a provision that would allow for a massive public land sell-off within the Donald Trump administration’s “One Big, Beautiful Bill,” Americans from across the nation — and lawmakers from both sides of the aisle — have expressed shock and horror.

One revered California region, however, has seemingly been preparing for a moment like this for nearly half a century.

That area is Big Sur.

For more than a generation, Big Sur — a 71-mile stretch of California coastline, both pristine and accessible to the public — has attempted to protect itself from overdevelopment, overtourism and overpopulation by enforcing the Big Sur Coast Land Use Plan, a 1986 document that limits what a landowner can do in Big Sur.

“Really, the only saving grace for Big Sur is the land use plan,” Marcus Foster, chairperson and co-founder of the local land use watchdog group Keep Big Sur Wild, told SFGATE on Monday when asked about ramifications of any lands potentially being put up for sale by the federal government.

Coastal mountains in Big Sur, Calif.Getty Images/iStockphoto

Keep Big Sur Wild maintains “all capacity has already been exhausted” when it comes to the build-out of Big Sur according to the land use plan. It allowed for a maximum of 300 units to be built. “By our count, the cap has been exceeded by at least 5 units,” Keep Big Sur Wild’s attorney, Sara A. Clark, wrote to planning commissioners and then-Supervisor Mary Adams in the fall of 2023.

The fact that the area is already built out — and how the land use plan is considered to be the document that supersedes all others when it comes to the region’s development and use — emphasizes the notion that the plan is the “gold standard” for protection from development and commercialization of the area, Foster said.

He also pointed out that some of Big Sur’s most iconic spots were initially put on the block by Utah Sen. Mike Lee with seemingly little or no awareness of the area or the plan that governs it. Lee spearheaded the bill’s provision for a public land sale, proposing last week that 258 million acres of Forest Service and Bureau of Land Management property become eligible for a land sale of up to 3 million acres.

FILE: In this Nov. 10, 2020, file photo, Republican Sen. Mike Lee of Utah speaks during a Senate Judiciary Committee hearing on Capitol Hill in Washington.Susan Walsh/Associated Press

Although those lands appear to be safe after the bill’s revisions, other Big Sur areas under Bureau of Land Management control, such as parts of the Ventana Wilderness and the Bear Mountain Wilderness Study Area, appear to remain in jeopardy. In addition, there are still ambiguities about what public spaces are susceptible to being auctioned off by the government to the highest bidder.

According to a post on X on Monday night, following the removal of Forest Service lands from his proposed sell-off, Lee said he intends to “SIGNIFICANTLY REDUCE the amount of BLM land in the bill. Only land WITHIN 5 MILES of population centers is eligible,” which, in theory, could still include some areas of Big Sur.

SFGATE reached out to Lee on Tuesday to clarify what he means by population centers and whether places within Big Sur are considered population centers, or whether a city, like downtown Monterey, about 17 miles away from Big Sur landmark Bixby Bridge, would qualify. Lee’s office did not reply by the time of publication.

Regardless of what makes it in the final bill, Keep Big Sur Wild’s Foster said the initial offering of some of the country’s most sacred and revered public lands for sale still came as a shock.

“There are so many threats to Big Sur, it’s one that I didn’t see coming,” he said. “It really emphasizes the absolute importance of the strict policies of our land use plan. ... It is potentially the only thing that can protect that land from being developed or commercialized.”

While Foster said he and other locals were caught off guard by the suggestion of the land sales, he feels the proposed sale of parts of Big Sur and other public lands could be a “bargaining chip” being used to push other aspects of the bill through.

A wide-shot view of Big Sur from above on Pacific Coast Highway 1.Getty Images

“Just like so many proposals that come out of this administration, cruelty is the point,” Daniels told SFGATE on Monday. Daniels said in this case, states in the Western U.S. seem to be the targets. It’s a geographic area, she also noted, that this administration seems to know nothing about.

“We’re dealing with and trying to mitigate catastrophic wildfire, and we’re taking it and trying to give it to private entities?” she said. “Donald Trump and the Republicans have the idea that this could be housing. Nobody’s going to put housing here.”

She explained that the areas already identified for development in Monterey County have been subject to years of planning, a “thoughtful process,” she said, which is “in direct contradiction to what the Republicans seemingly have in store.”

“It’s just stupid all around,” she said of the proposal to sell off public lands.

That being said, she noted the threat of the land sale is not something to be taken lightly.

“I think we have to take it seriously,” she said. “I think California will resist. If you look at the map of the West — no one was spared. If you look at the trillions of dollars they have to make up for if they want to extend these tax cuts for the rich, I’m not surprised it is federal land they’re after. I think they’re going to look at everything they can. We have to take them seriously.”

Like Foster of Keep Big Sur Wild, Daniels believes the Big Sur Coast Land Use Plan gives the region a leg up when it comes to the protections of its lands, whether they’re in public or private hands. “It is in place to prevent development,” she said. “The plan doesn’t prohibit sales, but it governs all future development, and it is very icon-clad.”

When asked if she was recently contacted by any members of the Republican Party or the Trump administration or anyone involved with the bill, including Lee, Daniels said no.

“Not at all,” she said. “I haven’t heard from anyone.”

An aerial view of Bixby Bridge in Big Sur, Calif.Getty Images/500px

“Over the weekend, in a conversation with my father, I really started thinking about how do you put a value on an asset to be enjoyed by not only this generation but future generations,” she said. “You’re offering up a public asset that’s priceless. Who’s assessing the value of this land? And how do you assess that value? I know that’s down the road, but let’s not be taken by surprise if this administration sells off the land that is truly a public asset.”

If the worst does happen, however, and parts of Big Sur’s public lands do go up on the block, would there even be a market for it?

Foster thinks so.

“That’s another concern,” he said. “Does the state have money to buy land from the feds? Probably not. Would it go up for bidding to ultra wealthy people who are buying up Big Sur? That’s a possibility.”

There is an upswell of untold wealth in the region, Foster said, like big-name tech billionaires with known Big Sur ties, such as Sam Altman or Jack Dorsey, or Patrice Pastor, the Monaco billionaire who recently expanded his Carmel footprint and started acquiring properties in Big Sur.

When combined with an overall increase in visitorship, “destination development” and other commercial interests — legal or not — taking hold in the region, that wealth could conceivably be interested in buying up large swaths of land that has, until now, been earmarked for the public, Foster said.

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rogue-ai-cat · 13 days ago

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American Politics — What Happened Today That You Should Know

Friday, June 13, 2025

Resistance is going viral.

Federal judges blocked Trump all day, 400 international academics including 30 Nobel laureates issued an anti-fascist manifesto, nearly two dozen attorneys left a firm that caved to Trump for one that is still fighting, and millions of Americans are preparing for over 1,800 "No Kings" protests today in what organizers expect will be the largest single-day resistance since he took office.

Each act of defiance is giving the next group permission to stand up.

The courts embolden academics, who inspire lawyers, who energize protesters. Together they create unstoppable momentum that's snowballing across institutions that Trump thought he could capture or intimidate.

Be safe out there today.

U.S. forces defend Israel from Iranian missile attacks one day after Netanyahu launched strikes on Iran’s nuclear program without U.S. assistance.

Trump threatens Iran to “make a deal, before there is nothing left” while claiming U.S. non-involvement in Israeli strikes on nuclear facilities.

Sweden and Netherlands agree to Trump’s 5% defense spending demands days before NATO summit where allies will face pressure to meet new targets.

Trump personally approves Nippon Steel’s acquisition of U.S. Steel after campaigning against the deal, claiming vague “golden share” gives president “total control” without defining actual powers.

Trump-appointed judges allow ConocoPhillips’ Willow oil project to proceed despite finding environmental law violations, citing economic disruption concerns.

Environmental groups sue Trump EPA over exemptions granted to 68 coal plants from mercury pollution rules, claiming many already meet the standards.

Over 400 international academics including 30 Nobel laureates issue anti-fascist manifesto comparing Trump to Mussolini, with some signing anonymously due to fear of reprisals.

Kennedy advisers order federal health officials to hand over millions of Medicaid enrollees’ personal data to immigration authorities within 45 minutes despite privacy law concerns.

ICE holds immigrants for days in Burlington office building not equipped for detention, denying women menstrual products and forcing detainees to sleep on concrete floors.

Federal judge rules Trump overstepped his authority by firing three Consumer Product Safety commissioners without legal cause, orders immediate reinstatement.

Second federal judge rules Trump’s voting executive order violates Constitution because president lacks election powers, blocks citizenship document and mail ballot provisions.

Federal judge rules Trump administration’s foreign policy grounds for detaining Palestinian activist Mahmoud Khalil unconstitutional but allows continued detention on technical immigration charges.

Kilmar Ábrego García pleads not guilty to smuggling charges after Trump administration wrongfully deported him against court orders, then brought him back to face prosecution.

Noem’s fourth personal ICE raid visit hits snag in LA area as heavily armed agents target wrong person at pregnant mother’s home and leave empty-handed.

Federal judge blocks State Department’s planned 3,400 layoffs after Trump administration claims diplomatic agency exempt from court injunction on workforce cuts.

National Portrait Gallery director steps down two weeks after Trump claims he fired her for partisan content, despite Smithsonian initially asserting president lacks authority over museum personnel.

NYT investigation reveals Interior Department must remove all “negative” content about Americans from national parks by September 17 deadline after asking visitors to flag inappropriate historical information.

Trump administration calls back sidelined Voice of America Farsi-speaking staff during Israel-Iran conflict after shutting down broadcaster in March and firing hundreds of employees.

Federal appeals court declines to rehear Trump’s challenge to $5 million E Jean Carroll sexual abuse verdict, with two Trump-appointed judges dissenting from refusal to reconsider case.

Trump’s financial disclosure reveals over $600 million in 2024 income from crypto and business ventures that could benefit from his presidential policies.

FIGHTING BACK

Twenty Willkie Farr attorneys depart for Cooley after Willkie pledged $100 million to avoid Trump’s unconstitutional executive orders while Cooley fights the same orders in court.

Take Action:

Write to your officials with resist.bot

Call your officials with 5calls.org

Find events at mobilize.us

#govbrief.today #what happened today that you should know #whttysk #american politics #u.s. politics

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jhoneybees · 2 years ago

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Ahh!! The Military love one shot is finished!! I completely forgot about it until a couple of days ago lol

In this one shot, Elvis is working as a electrician because fun fact for anyone who doesn't know, Elvis used to work at a electric company called 'Crown's electric company' before he became famous!

Hope you enjoy :)

________________________

Summary: An envelope arrives in the mail holding news that the Presley clan was not expecting.

Characters: Army!Elvis, Wife!Reader, 3 kids(Oldest is James, middle is April and youngest is Beth)

The warmth of the fireplace fills the living room as the distant noises of thunder rolls across the sky and the rain trickling down the windows of your home, you have your youngest child in your arms, Beth. James being your oldest sits on the carpet floor with April your middle child by his side as they work together to build a tower with building blocks.

"Mama! look!" Looking up at the sound of your son's voice and a smile grows on your face as you see James and April presenting a tower of building blocks.

"Good job baby!" The two children giggle happily at your praise, you can't help but giggle yourself. Feeling nothing but love for your little family that Elvis and you have created together. As you were tending to baby Beth by cooing at her, the front door opens and closes, you look up and wait for the person you're hoping to see all day. Your husband walks in from behind the wall and you smile softly. The older kids in unison shout excitedly "Daddy!" Each one of them climbing to their feet before running to hug at your husband's legs, Elvis chuckles and bends down to give them a hug with each arm around each child.

"How was work?" Your voice soft and content, watching as Elvis straightens up and gesture the kids to go back to what they were doing by the flick of his hand and puts his truck keys on a hook beside the door and ruffle his slightly wet hair due to the rain outside. His booted feet dragging on the floor as he makes his way to sit on the couch next to you. Letting out a tired sigh "Long.." he answers, you nod after hearing his understandable words. Your eyes look back down at Beth, watching as she breathes softly and her eyes drooping. "Want a sandwich?" You ask in a soft manner, your eyes being trained on the baby. Rubbing his forehead with index and thumb, Elvis looks over with tired eyes to see you quietly carressing Beth's little cheek with your finger which makes him smile a little. "That sounds nice..." Bringing his eyes to look at the carpet floor again. You hum in response and begin to get up from the couch whilst giving Elvis the baby, taking hold of Beth he smiles pleasantly as he cooes at his daughter.

After some time of preparing the sandwich, you hear James talk in his sweet boyish voice. "Daddy! Did ya fix a lot of things today?" Smiling to yourself, you continue to listen to the conversation between the two boys as you apply peanut butter to the bread. "Yeah I did kid, a lot of fixing light bulbs.." He chuckles sheepishly. James replies with a quiet hum "that sounds pretty boring" Elvis chuckles low "work can often be pretty boring kid" you smile to yourself once more, after some time you walk out into the living room with a plate in hand. "Peanut butter and banana" Elvis nods with a small "thank you" you carefully take Beth away from Elvis so he can eat his sandwich.

You see something out of the corner of your eye and remember there's mail for Elvis to open “Oh honey, this came in” handing the envelope over to Elvis, he takes it from your hand after another bite of his sandwich. The moment the sheet of paper gets unfolded he

chokes on his food.

A big red stamp in the middle of the document…’DRAFTED’

Quickly as you walk into the kitchen to fetch Elvis a water while carefully cradling Beth. Elvis takes a gulp and places the glass down on the coffee table. Your eyebrows furrow, what's got him so surprised?

Leaning over his shoulder, you see the stamp mark, letting out a gasp “No…” James and April curiously turn up their little noses to peek over the coffee table to see what their parents were so shocked about.

Dropping the paper onto the floor, putting his face into his hands. “Why me?” Is all Elvis could say, your free hand covers your mouth as you hold in a sob. The two older kids grow concerned, cautiously walking over. “What happened Daddy?” James asks quietly, feeling more concerned as he glances over at you. April silently places her little hands on your knee, watching your face intently with worry.

Elvis sighs as he lifts his head up, pulling James closer by gently grabbing his shoulder. “Daddy's been drafted buddy…” he says in a defeated tone. James tilts his head to the side “what does that mean?” Elvis lowers his head wishing his boy knew so he doesn't have to explain to him but doesn't seem to have a choice.

“Means Daddy hasta go to the army…and be a soldier, James.”

Hearing his first name from Elvis always meant something serious and after a few seconds the realisation hit, he frowns. “Well I'm goin' too” saying in the most serious tone his little body could ever do made Elvis smile weakly. “You can't go buddy…ya still too little” James shakes his head and stomps his foot firmly “I-i- can manage!” Feeling a tear slide down his cheek Elvis answers, shaking his head silently. “I'm sorry buddy…” The little boy watches as Elvis lowers his head again and that's when he breaks down. Frantically climbing onto his father's lap to wrap him in the tightest hug he could ever give.

April watches the two boys and then looks back at you, she doesn't know what's going on but just seeing you suddenly burst out in sobs, April couldn't help but sob as well. Beth feeling the sadness radiate off her mother making her stir uncomfortably in her sleep.

Elvis sniffles softly, shuffling himself and James on his lap to be closer to the girls. Pulling them into a group hug, heartbreak in everyone's hearts.

“I-I don't know how long imma be in for but no matter what… I will always…love you all” Elvis' voice cracks into a sob.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #50s elvis #elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #my heart is aching #i don't know if it made anyone cry or feel sad but I'll say that i apologise

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tiddiewitch · 4 months ago

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Second Chances Ch. 5

Description: Agathrio AU / Wagatha - As Agatha gets ready for her fundraiser Evanora makes an appearance and ruins her day. We also meet Sharon.

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2,900

Notes: I love Sharon in this. Also every time she laughs I just imagine Kitty from that 70s show.

Chapter 5 - Ten

It had been weeks since Agatha signed the documents and she hadn’t heard anything from her mother or that lawyer she brought to dinner. Not that she was complaining, if she never heard from her mother again it would be too soon. But, she expected before long one of them would reach out to finalize the title of the estate and hand over the keys. She had been trying to go through her lawyer but according to her, they were being difficult and unresponsive. Not surprising, her mother was always withholding when she felt like she had something over Agatha. Then there was that creep of a lawyer, Christian, she shivered at the thought of him. She hoped at this point her interactions with him were over.

If anything, she was grateful for the lack of contact. It gave her an excuse to push the responsibility of dealing with her grandfather’s property off for as long as possible. Besides, she had enough on her plate. For a week after dinner with Jen and Alice she had a horrible stomach flu. She managed to pull it together the next week before catching a cold that would not go away. It completely exhausted her. Had it not been for Sharon, her assistant, she would have been drowning at work. Sharon was the glue that helped that ship sail, without her innate ability to keep Agatha calm and organized the place probably would have burned down.

As she made her way into work that day, iced latte in hand, she could sense the ominous tone in the building. Everyone was shuffling around, quietly murmuring as they avoided making eye contact with her. She was used to people being standoffish, she carried an intimidating air about her, but this was different. She was clearly the topic of conversation. Brushing it off, she made her way to the administrative side of the building. As she entered the doors to the executive offices, Sharon hurriedly rushed toward her.

“Good morning dear! Oh, don’t you look lovely today! ah-Hahaha”

“Well aren’t you chipper this morning? What, someone slip up and put an extra shot in your coffee?” Agatha retorted making her way to her office

“You know I’m glad I caught you! There’s something you should know before you head in…”

“If it’s not urgent it’ll have to wait, I’m already running late for my meeting with the florist for Saturday’s fundraiser.” She had nearly grabbed the door handle before Sharon blocked her entry.

“Honey, you’re gonna want to be prepared for this before you go in there.”

“What?” Agatha sighed, exasperated.

“Your mother is here” Sharon mouthed silently, eyes wide with terror. Agatha froze, if she turned and left now, her mother would be none the wiser, but her damn feet would not move. She could feel her chest tightening as her heart started beating faster. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Moving Sharon aside, she opened the door and made her way in, Sharon closing the door behind her.

“Well hello dear! Glad to see you’ve finally made your way in, 15 minutes late? You’d think with that extra time you could at least make yourself look presentable. Have you even run a comb through your hair?” Evanora stood behind her desk, clearly having snooped around her office.

“What do you want, mother?” She snapped

“I have been trying to get a hold of you for weeks but can’t seem to get you to call me so I figured I’d make it easy on you and stop by in person.” Of course, she had forgotten Jen blocked her in her phone.

“What is this regarding?” She wasn’t going to engage in small talk, this needed to be over as quickly as possible.

“Your grandfather’s estate. There’s much left to finalize, we have to transfer the deed and that has to be done in person in Boston.”

“Excuse me?”

“Christian has been waiting to hear from you about plans to visit so he can give you access to the property.”

“He’s heard from my lawyer many times and this is the first I’m hearing of any of this. As I said at dinner, any communication will go through her, he needs to let her know. And Frankly I don’t have time for this discussion, I’m already late to a meeting.” Having dropped off her things she made her way back to the door with her mother closely behind.

“Agatha!” Evanora shouted. “You cannot ignore this. You cannot ignore me, I am your mother. You need to take this seriously!” Agatha spun around, facing her mother head on.

“Enough! I don’t see how any of this involves you in the first place? You let me know of my inheritance, all else is my business he left the estate to me!” She could feel her mother’s anger radiating off her. Evanora was biting her tongue, fighting something she clearly wanted to say. “What is it, why are you so persistent about this? What else do you want from me?” Evanora let her hardened expression slip for just a moment, revealing a glimmer of surprise? Embarrassment? Agatha couldn’t tell, but was shocked nonetheless. “Oh…oh you do want something from me..don’t you?” Her mother straightened herself, gathering courage to finally admit why she was really there.

“Well, there may be a few items… in the house… I was hoping to collect.” she revealed through gritted teeth.

“Oh, and what might those be?”

“Nothing you will miss, but are important to me.” Evanora stood there for a moment stone-faced, “For God’s sake Agatha, he was my father. Have you no shame?!” her inflection rising as tears began to well in her eyes. She hadn’t expected this moment of vulnerability from her mother, however charged it may be. Never before had the roles been reversed where Agatha held all the cards. She felt the pang of retribution clash with the pity she now felt for the woman in front of her.

“I’m agreeing to nothing at the moment. I need time. When I have a chance to get things settled I may have my lawyer reach out to you. Until then I don’t expect to hear from you.” And with that she turned and opened the door intending to leave, but catching Sharon as she fell into her from, having listened in. Quickly pushing past Sharon she made her way down the hall and headed downstairs for her meeting.

She should have known that interaction set the tone for the day. Her meeting with the florist started 30 mins late and she had trouble focusing on the details. She was meant to have a break but starting that late caused them to run over. She then had a quick encounter with the bar staff ensuring they were stocked and ready. The last thing she needed was to run out of alcohol; people tend to have a looser grip on their money if they are properly lubricated. She was disappointed to find they seemed to be understaffed, once again. Thinking quickly she shot Jen a text.

Any chance your new girlfriend has a bartender she could loan me? They can name their price.

Having put out that fire she scurried off to meet with the caterer. The iced coffee from this morning had gotten her to this point but it would only put off her hanger for so long. She needed to eat before she lashed out at the next person to inconvenience her. She made it to the kitchen and just as she entered a girl turned the corner and ran into her, dropping the large bowl of chocolate pudding she was carrying. As soon as it hit the ground the contents splattered all across Agatha. At this point all she could do was chuckle at the absurdity of it all, the rage inside her fizzling into a delirious numbness. In a huff she turned and headed toward the bathroom to assess the damage.

The caterer rushed out to catch her, “I’m so sorry, are you alright?” Agatha turned and through the pudding, plastered a villainous grin on her face.

“Clearly I’m never better!” she said in a sing-song sarcastic way. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see if I can get pudding out of these pants.” She stormed off back toward the restroom, tears began to fill her eyes. As she looked in the mirror she realized the severity of the damage. She was absolutely covered and she would not be able to get the pudding out of her pants or shirt. At this realization the tears overflowed, streaming down her face, taking some of the pudding with them. She hurried to wipe them away, a rush of embarrassment overtaking her. This was not her! She was never this emotional and she didn’t breakdown like this, especially at work. She had to pull herself together. Luckily she had a change of clothes for the gym in her car. She didn’t have any other in person meetings planned today so it wouldn’t really matter. She could lock herself in her office and finish the day in peace. She ran out to her car and changed in the restroom.

She anticipated the meetings to go through lunch, expecting to have had her fill with catering, but since that did not go to plan she needed to find food and fast. She had just enough time to run to the cafe down the street and grab a sandwich. She hurried out of the building onto the busy city street as she got a call from Sharon.

“Yes?” she barked.

“Oh, Honey! I’m glad I caught you. Are you doing alright after this morning?”

“Is there a reason you called?” Agatha rolled her eyes and checked her watch.

“Herb says he needs to move your meeting to today, are you able to head over to his office now?” Agatha groaned, the sandwich would have to wait.

“If I must. Tell him I’ll be there in 10, and he owes me.”

“Oh and I heard about the caterer. Do you need me to get you some foo…” As Agatha abruptly turned around she had managed to run into the person walking behind her, dropping her phone in the process. She let out a winy groan and started to bend down to pick it up. Before she could, the other person grabbed it for her. As she handed it back they made eye contact and her heart dropped.

“Well, it appears we’re destined to run into each other.” said the sultry voice. It was her. Of course it was her. Standing before her in fitted black dress pants and a white button up with the sleeves rolled up. The same cool scent of rain and incense filling the air around her, that delicious smirk plastered across her face.

“I… well…you” Agatha stammered in a fluster.

“We can’t keep meeting like this.” The woman said with a chuckle. How could she be so alluring and confident?

“I don’t… I didn’t…I have to go.” She started to rush off as she heard the woman behind her.

“Can I at least get your number! Or maybe your name?” Agatha continued on, not daring to look back and deal with that today.

She managed to make it to Herb’s office only 5 minutes later than she had said. Nearly out of breath and her heart still racing, she made her way in.

“Ah! Agatha! Thank you for being flexible. I know this isn’t ideal but I have to run and meet our guest composer in an hour and wanted to make sure we had everything set for tomorrow. Oh, is everything alright?” He said as he took in her sporty appearance.

“It will be” She said through gritted teeth. Not entirely hiding her dissatisfaction

“Good, did we get everything set with the vendors?”

“Indeed.”

“Fantastic. I did want to go over seating one more time. It appears we are adding 10-15 additional guests and will need to find room for them.”

“Well, is it 10 or 15?”

“Plan for more to be safe. Dr. Jones on our board has had some new doctors join his staff at the Children’s hospital and we’ll need to accommodate them.”

“Indeed” She quipped with a sarcastic smile “Anything else?”

“Ensure we have enough bar staff to help monitor how much people are drinking. We don’t need a repeat of last year when Dottie managed to go through a bottle and a half of wine.”

“Already addressed.” She could feel her patience waning.

“Fantastic! Looks like we’re in for a great evening. I’m rehearsing with the conductor and string quartet this evening. I'd like for you to stop by.”

“I’ll do what I can. Are we good?”

“I guess we are. Are you alright? You’re looking a little overwhelmed and a bit disheveled.” Agatha blinked, taken aback by this bluntness.

“I’m fine, just lots to do, must get to it!” She tried not to sound too pained.

“Well then by all means. Don’t let me stop you. But Agatha, do make sure you get some rest, we have a big weekend ahead of us and I need you at your best.” Agatha’s face betrayed none of the rage boiling inside her but instead she plastered on the largest smile she could and nodded with a high pitched, “yup”. She rushed to leave his office and return to her cave to review the new task she’d been assigned.

As she made her way into her sanctum she slammed the door behind her. Stumbling her way to the couch in her room she flopped down on her stomach letting out a large sigh. After a moment she rolled over to ponder the ceiling and decompress from the chaos of the day so far. She glanced over at her desk noticing something on it. As she raised herself onto her elbows she could see a plate with a sandwich and a bag of chips and a Dr. pepper. Sharon, somehow always two steps ahead.

She wandered over to her desk and devoured the sandwich before starting to redo the seating plan. As she worked she could feel herself growing more and more tired. Her eyes began to droop as she was fighting to stay awake. Eventually the pull to slumber was overpowering and she rested her head on the desk telling herself it would only be a moment's rest.

Nearly 2 hours later she was awoken by someone shaking her.

“Agatha! Agatha, dear, you should go home. It’s past 5:00.” In her hazy stupor, she was able to make out Sharon.

“What? What happened?” She hadn’t quite settled back into reality. Blinking, she tried to summon her consciousness. She had fallen asleep. At work. At her desk. “Wait what time did you say it was?”

“Oh, Honey, it’s almost 5:30. You’ve had one heck of a day it seems like. A-hahaha!”

“5:30! Ah I have to go meet Herb, he’s rehearsing and he wanted me there.”

“Oh no dear. Not today. You need to head home. I’ve already let Herb know you were working on other things and would have to catch up with them tomorrow.” Agatha was so relieved, she didn’t know how she was going to make it through that rehearsal. She had that weak dizzy feeling of having napped too long and she was still so exhausted.

“Thank you Mrs. Hart.”

“Oh, sweetheart, how many times have I told you, just call me Sharon.” She gave the woman a faint smile and blearily made her way over to grab her things. “Do you want a ride? Or are you ok to drive?” Sharon questioned

“I’ll be fine, I’m not going far. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early - lots of work to do setting up.”

Agatha arrived home and made straight for her bed. Despite having slept for a good portion of the work day she was ready to turn in for the night. She lay there for a moment as Scratchy joined her, purring loudly and nudging her to feed him.

“I know Mr., give me a moment and I’ll feed you. I just need to rest a minute.” Scratchy, unmoved by this request, advanced his disruptions and made his way to her stomach. His tiny but painful paws stabbing at her abdomen as he made biscuits. He eventually he found a particularly delicate spot and leaned all his weight down. “OUCH! You really are relentless! Fine, I'll get up!” They walked together to the kitchen and she gave him his food. Quickly checking her phone she found a text from Jen.

Alice says she has you covered, just tell her when and where.

She knew she could count on Jen and now she felt she could count on Alice too, at least for this. Breathing a sigh of relief she reached into her fridge and grabbed some cheese, salami, pickles, olives, and a cup of yogurt. Though the sandwich had been filling at the time, she suddenly found herself ravenous. She grabbed a can of tin fish and half a baguette from the pantry and made her way to the couch, turning on the TV as she dug in. Satisfied once again, she could feel the pull of slumber creeping up. Before she could fall asleep in another uncomfortable position she cleared her mess, got ready for bed and went to sleep as the sun was just setting.

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #kathryn hahn #agathario #agathario au #evanora harkness #sharon davis

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therabbitthatpostthings · 2 years ago

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There’s something wrong with Mr.Nanami.

Idle gossip wasn’t your thing, grading papers and preparing for tests took precedence over listening to your co-workers babble on. Even when that gossip was coming from Satoru. As much as you loved him, he had a flair for the dramatics. Especially at Mr.Nanami’s expense.

You didn’t really know anything about Mr.Nanami. He apparently graduated under Satoru. Though that made you his superior, you never felt like it. He has worked at this university far longer than you have. He taught in the same classroom everyday, every year. Students revered him and staff admired him. That made sense, Mr.Nanami was very admirable.

Yet you couldn’t shake that feeling. The way he always wore tailored suits even in the hottest summers. He arrived before sunrise at exactly 6am and left before sunset at 5:30pm. His car windows were tinted and so were his glasses (admittedly so was Satoru’s but, he was Satoru. This is Mr.Nanami).

Satoru and the staff weren’t the only ones with stories. There wasn’t a student on campus that didn’t have some sort of theory about Mr.Nanami. Some said he has a secret family he’s keeping hidden. Others think a student is one of his kids. Some say Mr.Nanami and Satoru are exes. Others say Mr.Nanami is planning on killing Satoru.

Out of all the theories that seemed the most true. Some said he's an ex-crime lord. One girl even said he’s a monster. You would roll your eyes at the notion. Even university students could still be this immature. The census remained though. Something was off about him in a way one cannot place right.

No matter what you thought about it now when there was work to be done. You stood up from your desk cracking your back in the process. The pitter-patter of the rain softly filled the empty classroom. It seemed the rain dismissed the extra help session for you. If the students are gone, you should. Your work had been done hours ago anyway. Gathering yourself you headed for the teachers lounge to sort your documents. The building was eerily quiet. “Was I the only extra help that stayed this late?” You thought. Darker clouds rolled in, casting the hallway in shadows.

As you approached the room you could hear muffled voices. Two voices. “Ah, what’s the magic word?”

That was definitely Satoru. You felt a weight lift off your chest. Of course it’s Satoru. He would be here probably teasing Utahime and inadvertently scaring you. You sighed in relief going for the doorknob when another voice spoke.

“Dammit Gojo I’ll drain you right now!”

That’s a man’s voice…that’s Mr.Nanami’s voice. He sounds so angry. Is Satoru annoying him?

“I’m helping you Nanamin,” Satoru cooed. “You could at least be a little nicer to me.”

You kneeled down to get a better look in the room. The book cart blocked their view of the door but you could make out their head and shoulders from between the slats. You knew Mr.Nanami had dark brown eyes, you had seen so in Satoru’s highschool pictures, yet now they looked bright. Almost like they were glowing. You could see his expression change from annoyance to anger. His glare could kill and Satoru was definitely the target. His voice was laced with venom, “Please give me your arm Gojo.”

Satoru cheerily obliged. Mr.Nanami grabbed his arm and brought it up to his mouth. Gojo let out a pained groan, “Take it easy Nanamin.”

Mr.Nanami seemed to ignore this and you watched him gulp down blood from Satoru’s arm. You sat there frozen in fear, in an awkward squat in the middle of the hallway. His glowing eyes opened again and glanced in your direction. He released himself from Gojo’s arm. He flicked his tongue over his bloody fangs and red lips, never once averting his gaze.

“Jeez at least say thank you or buy me a meal.” Satoru whined. He licked the rest of the blood off his arm, his own fangs poking out. “You’re not even listening.”

Nanami’s eyes finally left your direction and quickly huddled back against the wall. Your heart was racing. Any louder the two would hear it, hell they probably can! They could be walking over right now- just on the other side of that door. A loud crack of lightning shocked some life back into you as you grabbed your bag and ran for the building’s back door. Not stopping until you made it all the way to the parking lot and into your car. You somehow didn’t get caught for speeding. It was hard sleeping that night. And that weekend. By Monday morning you were still slightly erratic but holding yourself together pretty well. Since you didn’t drop the files off, you headed straight for your class.

“Good Morning (L/N).”

You stopped dead in your tracks, terrified to look at him. It felt like the world stopped and everyone disappeared. That same unnerving feeling came back. He stood leaned against the doorframe, dressed in his typical tailored suit and combed back hair. Today though, his glasses hung low on his nose letting you look directly in his eyes. Those brown eyes that haunted you over the last few days.

“G-Good Morning, Mr.Nanami.” You put on your nicest smile and tried to sound cheerful.

He gave a “hmm” of approval and turned back to his classroom. You let out a breath and walked, much faster, to your classroom. Fingers shaking as you struggled to unlock the door. The key banged against the lock and fell which somehow scared you even more. Less than 3 hours into your morning and you already want to go home.

“Wow you look awful.” Satoru bent down to pick up your keys. You took them from his hands and hurriedly unlocked the door.

“It’s been a rough weekend for me.” You replied.

“Ooh~” He teased “Hot date? Did you see something cool?”

“No, nothing like that Satoru,” You groaned, easing into the chair.

“Or,” He grabbed the armrest and spun your chair around. “Did you see something you weren’t supposed to see?” He leaned over the desk, obstructing your view from anyone who walked past your door. His tone was condescending low.

“N-No-”

“N-N-N-N-No?” He mocked in a sweet voice. “Don’t worry (Y/N), I won’t let anyone hurt you. Okay?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He gave a toothy smile and waved off to his classroom. You sat in stunned silence, staring at the door. You were almost expecting Mr.Nanami to walk in but that didn’t matter now. The rumors were true, something was wrong with Mr.Nanami. You knew what it was.

And he knew that you knew as well.

#no beta we die like men #fanfic #short fanfic #short drabble #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #Nanami Kento #university au #vampire!nanami #Fictober #I guess #writing fanfics at 3am #cringe-

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queen-of-elves · 2 years ago

Text

Acceptable

Armitage Hux x reader - Modern Office AU + some background Reylo

Summary: You have been working for First Order for years now slowly giving up on the idea of your dream project ever gracing your presence until it finally happened, however, there is a slightly cold and rude problem, other team leader Armitage Hux.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN (And I'm begging you to send me some)

A/N: There is not enough classic fanfics for Armitage and almost zero AUs so I am here to satisfy the bitches, it’s me, I am the bitches

+not betaread so be kind

Words: 5.8K

Warnings: some swearing probably, there is always swearing in my fics, talking about f themself cause corporate life is annoying, some inappropriate thoughts

Tags:@l0stinth3nightsky @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive

Everyone in the company knew how mean and bossy Armitage Hux was, even if you were from a completely different department, but this project was going to pull you in his inner work team and it terrified you to get first hand experience with him. You heard plenty of times how he made new interns cry and the older ones want to commit a suicide. So you weren’t exactly thrilled at working with him even on a project you have literally dreamed of since being accepted to work for the First Order company, the most prestigious company among prestigious companies. The project required two different departments that almost never interacted which also didn’t help.

You were ready for the first meeting between two departments, each under the supervision of completely different people and personalities, to be just a horrendous trainwreck. But Armitage Hux being the team leader of the other one? You didn’t have to be some kind of prophet to know this was going to be painful just to watch. Even though you were anxiously expecting disaster to occur in the first meeting, the sunshine side in you just had to shine through. So you had an exceptionally good morning, you were on time, had a delicious bagel and the sky was sunny, therefore there was no chance of Hux fucking up your day.

The office building was huge but not exceptional among the other skyscrapers littering the city, molding it into cement block maze. The windows provide enough clearance for you to see the busy people already moving around in the offices above, you even noticed some of your own team members anxiously waiting for your arrival while preparing the rest of the documentation for today's team meeting.

You knew you were ready, your team also knew but that didn’t put to rest the anxious little monster growing inside your stomach. Still, you put on your best brave smile and entered the lobby, greeted the receptionist Clara and continued down the hall to wait for the elevator. Beeping your employee card on the scanner, to let you proceed to the elevator, put you right back into your morning routine, well, just for your coworker and a sort of subordinate, Rey bombard you with questions in the waiting line.

“Did you hear it?” Her voice sounded an octave higher than usual or maybe it was just your tired brain not used to loud sounds yet, nothing a good old coffee couldn’t fix in minutes.

“Hm?” Your brain was still too tired to properly answer and so you only mumbled an acknowledgement to her question. Slow sips of your latté seemed to clear your mind a bit, thank god for sales like bagel plus free coffee at the local cafe otherwise you would be unusable these days.

“You know what I mean.” You were sure if you were to meet eyes with Rey, she would pierce you with that intense gaze.

“The merge.” There was no merge, so far you weren’t even aware of any cuts in finances for this year or the one to follow. Whatever Rey was talking about was most likely just a bunch of bored employees gossiping and conspiring together, nothing major, nothing serious. This realization calmed you down even though The Merge sounded quite apocalyptic.

“I can assure you there is no merge, especially not between our two departments, Miss-” A voice interrupted but it did not intend to finish that sentence as if the owner was too busy to learn Rey’s name at all. He turned his attention to you, measuring you over, his calculating glare went over the ink stained hands to your low set black heels with that tiny cut on the left side you were so desperate to hide with black marker.

Armitage Hux waiting in front of the elevator for your arrival was definitely not on your list for today. He looked like a pristine image out of some magazine with men’s suits, his deep blue shaded suit with silver cufflinks perfectly paired with an expensive looking watch he was now checking printing itself in the back of your brain forever. Quite a nightmarish image of a handsome man with such a cold and cruel demeanor.

“You are both late. Meeting room 3 in 5 minutes.” And with that he was gone again, like a ghost, maybe he is a ghost of this building, stackup nitpicking cold monster that was stabbed by his tired employee centuries ago and now has to haunt the rest of you. He didn’t even turn around making you puzzle if he was truly addressing you.

“What’s going on?” Whisperyelled Rey, her wide eyes scanning the surrounding as if Armitage was going to pop up from the corner to remind her she has now 4 minutes left to be present in the meeting room.

“Trouble.” You simply answered your bewildered friend, there was no better answer to it after all. The morning you dreamed of was slowly fading into a nightmarish mess but at least you had now caffeined your brain enough to proceed to normal functions. Plus your team had your back, there was nothing to be afraid of except Armitage Hux and he was simply a man in a suit. Just an ordinary man in a tailored suit with a stoic expression.

And you were right, the team really had your back but Armitage definitely didn’t, he was mean and bossy and nitpicking and just so fucking insufferable. However, the meeting ended with both departments and their leaders arriving at a consensus, not a happy one. It almost reminded you of those messy divorce screaming matches in tv shows, except this was veiled in professionalism and formal language.

Of course your suffering didn’t end just as did the meeting, he was probably a sadist, prolonging your pain with his “Word?”. You were sure it wasn’t even a question, it was just an order for you to follow him straight to his office.

Armitage Hux’s office was neat as it can be, if it weren’t for the few scattered papers on the desk you would guess this was one of those exhibitions of furniture in Ikea. Well, even the Ikea display has more personality, some fakeass photos of happy couple/family. His office is neat until it’s bare, devoid of indicating anything about the owner’s personality.

That’s kinda sad.

“Listen, I know that the project is not top notch of the quality it could be but I think we have a solid plan we can now expand upon.” You had to win this argument, you wouldn’t let him defeat you over a project you so desperately wanted for years. So, if he wanted to fight you were ready to bare teeth at this twig in a suit.

“Oh, and before you say it’s-,” you couldn’t even finish before he interrupted you, “acceptable.”

“What?” You blurted out, completely stunned by his remark. Did Armitage Hux, after all that tousling about in the meeting room, admit the plan your team created is acceptable. Yes, there were few changes happening after the “discussion” of both teams but nothing you have not foreseen already that also didn’t mean you were happy with said changes. But consensus between two completely different departments is everything the leadership asked for.

“The proposal is acceptable, I don’t understand why I should be doubtful, so far you have only proven to be a valuable asset for the company.” Armitage was always the epitome of professional and now he was complimenting you. He was complimenting you, right? Maybe you had too much coffee, maybe you had not enough coffee and maybe God was spinning on his chair and laughing at you up in the sky.

“Oh, thanks. I will take it as a compliment, even though you sound like a formal email impersonator.” Gosh, did you really just say that to him? There was a cold sweat pooling down your back, anxiety ranking up. Was he going to yell at you for such a statement, what you have heard so far it wouldn’t be unusual for him to yell at people over smaller things.

“I don’t.” His expression could be only described as a deadpan expression. It’s actually kinda funny, not entirely scary. He doesn’t laugh, noted, but you do and you also make people laugh and so you set your new target.You almost look around to see a hidden camera or an entire camera crew as if in The office. And while you amused yourself in your mind Armitage sported back his expression to emotionless stare before turning his attention back to the documents on the desk.

“You do.” A small laugh escaped your lips at that moment and with his attention divided elsewhere you took it as an ideal time to run away exit the situation and also the office.

But before you could escape this storm of a man, he had to add. “Until the next meeting I expect you and your team to finish said plans.” And with that the conversation and mess of a morning comes to an end. However, there is still a lot of time for unexpected surprises before the day ends.

And so it began, the little you running circles in your brain over the thoughts of your new co-leader, the cold redhead slowly sneaking in your head again and again. It helped the clock to tick faster which was a good thing but the constant train of thoughts disassembling every part of your interaction with him over the time was like a cold shower every single time.

The last time you checked the clock read 5 minutes after 8pm and with that you started to pack your things ready to head home, have little dinner and continue with the paperwork over a random kdrama playing as a background noise. And as you bid everyone goodbye you noticed Armitage’s crouched figure in his office, going over some even more boring paperwork than was the one waiting on you at home. It was probably true, the first one to be in the office and the last one to leave that was Armitage’s schedule.

Sad.

And so you set your mind on a new plan, a horrible and cruel plan to ruin your late morning and exchange it for an early cold shower wake up and speed walk to a cafe not only for your favorite bagel but also a special delivery of coffee.

God, what am I even doing this early?

When the alarm buzzed you were around 100% sure you were making a mistake. Waking this early should be a crime. No, It is a crime. Especially when you were a busy little bee like you always are and spent the whole night until 3am working. But part of you knew it was going to be worthy, today was the day you were going to crack that tough ice cold exterior of Armitage’s facade.

If waking up this early wasn’t a mistake the cold shower definitely was but in all honesty you were just afraid you would fall asleep on the bus, so cold shower it was. In the end it was kinda worthy, you got your favorite bagel without having to wait in long line; got another free coffee, you had no idea if the sale was still on or if you just looked so terrible they felt sad for you and just had to give it to you; you also got Armitage his coffee and as a big finale you were on time, actually very early overall.

The office was ruefully empty. And there was no Rey to talk to, you knew she wasn’t going to be in the office until 9am but you still hoped even she would find the idea of early start amusing. In reality you expected to get laughed at when she finally decides to grace the office with her presence.

You might have felt alone in the empty corridors of the building but it was not so empty after all. The curtain might have been drawn but you could see a slim light escaping in between them from his office, the artificial light was definitely not sunshine.

He must have stayed up all night.

Mustering courage you knocked on his door before waiting on an invitation to let yourself in. It was useless, there was no sound coming from the office and so you knocked again and then again. Realizing he was not going to answer you decided to open the door and check up on him anyway.

He was sleeping on his desk with his suit jacket over the chair behind him and loose tie around his neck. The dress shirt slightly crumpled at the edges, his red hair tousled around and neck craned in such an uncomfortable position you were sure of his incoming back pain.

“Knock, knock.” You tried to say softly, just lightly waking him up but instead you groaned, your voice still not comfortable from no use this morning, startling him awake.

“I-” His form jolted, eyes flying open and searching the room for the culprit of his rough awakening. Blue eyes finally gazing upon you, Armitage looked boyishly handsome that morning, it was not just the wide expression but the state of disarray you found him in.

You decided against speaking, part of you afraid your blushing form would say something stupid, the stupid thoughts of the redhead not leaving you alone. The, almost like a cardboard, coffee cup made an uncomfortable noise once you pushed it on the table toward its owner, making the moment even more awkward.

He took a slow sip, still not fixing his hair or attire and part of you wished he never would, it suited him and you probably liked it even more than it actually suited him.

“How did you know what coffee I drink?” His voice still hoarse and laced with sleepiness painted your cheeks even more crimson red. God it made you imagine things, you didn’t even know from where the thoughts were coming but there was somehow no way to stopping them. Your view of Armitage Hux completely shattering and rearranging itself into a different image.

“It's just black coffee, Hux, I assumed you would like black coffee, you are like the embodiment of black coffee.”

“Thank you, that's very considerate of you.” His lips touched the cup in a cautious move before he took a sip, trying to hide his small smile but you noticed it, you definitely noticed it and you knew you won. You won Armitage Hux over with a simple gesture of kindness.

”Was it a compliment or?” You wanted to laugh and you wanted to see more of a happier Armitage from now on. You felt like you got closer to Hux at that moment, a possible friendship started to blossom between the two of you.

“Who knows.” Shrugging, he moved on to finally fix himself a little, smirk still apparent on his lips complimenting his tired stare. In that moment you wanted to experience more moments like this and you sure were going to try.

********

Finally it was the day the board would either accept the project or deny it. You couldn’t sleep for two days prior and even before that you slept only around 15 hours in a week, you felt almost dead. Both of you, Armitage and you, were now staring at your notebooks, ready to receive the final answer to your now weeks long struggle.

Armitage's notebook beeped, a notification sounding off, sending you flying across the desk almost into his lap, not even considering it could be a completely different email or even personal thing.

You and Armitage got closer, just as the both of your teams, over the weeks you spent on this project, countless nights together in the office seemed to harden your relationship even more. You had fun, Armitage was not only a hardworking perfectionist and handsome man, he was also very funny, like ridiculously funny in your opinion.

The email was long, like unnecessarily when it comes to formal corporal emails but the end of it was just so promising. Both of you skimmed over the words, searching for the phrases denied. There was none, the only thing in the end it contained was so sweet and wanted approval for your project, relieving you both of disappointment.

You were not sure who was the first, if you or Armitage, but now the both of you were jumping as high as you could while clinging to each other, a victorious hug. It could take only seconds or minutes, you squealing and Armitage yelling, hugging each other and jumping once again, but when it was over, the embarrassment in both parties was apparent.

Anyone could come into this office at any time, it was not uncommon for most of the higher ranking employees to just not knock and barge in and if they saw the team leaders of the current biggest project in the company disheveled and out of breath, who knows what they would think.

There was a common understanding of this premise and so the following actions were understandable, while you tried to smooth your skirt down, Armitage did the same to his hair and also his tie. He was still out of breath and a bit flushed, his look of happiness making you warm again.

“You should trust your guts more.” And again with his disheveled appearance, this man was going to be the death of you for sure. And while he was busy sporting himself back into his usual calm and perfect form you had to admire how far the both of you have come.

“Trust my guts? Armitage, I have a crippling anxiety.” Wholehearted laugh clawed its way out of your throat, making him smile. “That’s like the worst advice ever.” You continued still giggling like a little girl with your cheeks starting to hurt from all the happiness flowing inside you.

“I tried.”

“I appreciate it.” You gave him a small shy smile, your cheeks were still too warm for you to completely concentrate. “Thank you.” You whispered in the end.

“You are welcome.” Nodding fondly over this conversation, Hux gave you a smug expression, which you have completely missed because you turned your attention back to the documents you had to prepare for the next meeting.

“Even though you should be the one thanking me for my amazing advice.” Armitage chimes in, relaxed expression kept in place while he slightly nudged you in the ribs.

“Was it a joke?” Your face morphing into a shocked amused grin, you turned to him, observing the man momentarily. “Did Armitage Hux just make a joke?” You were not aware that Armitage Hux, the cold hearted redhead, could joke but you liked it and hoped it would stay like this for a while.

“I regret ever interacting with you.” You could see the slight smirk forming on Armitage's face when he spoke, unable to contain it. Since starting working on this project you and Armitage really got close, you would even call him your friend now. Yeah, he was still sometimes a cold prick but you could see the appeal of him. Handsome, smart and very passionate for his work with a decent sense of humor, Armitage Hux was definitely a catch. This project really opened your eyes when it came to him.

“You don’t.” Your elbow met what you firstly assumed would be a bony mass but in reality was well defined muscles under what you deemed was branded suit.

“I do.” He couldn’t fight the smirk off now. It was awfully obvious. The past you would probably be slightly horrified over the thought of Armitage Hux smirking. The picture of it being painted under the impression that he is obviously an evil corporate man. However, seeing him smirk now sparked something completely different in you. The silly picture of an evil man from a cartoon you used to hold in your mind when someone said his name was replaced with a charming looking redhead man in a suit with a warm aura around him.

“Nah.” You felt silly, stupid and giddy over this man and how warm he made you feel even though everyone viewed him as a cold and mean man he never was. “You love it.”

“Yeah, I do.” The stare he gave you made something carnal turn in you, it was not an alien feeling but with Armitage there was a new intensity to it. Red liquid heat pooled inside your belly under his loving gaze.

Oh.

“I-I have to go and- inform the team, you know- so they like- know and- stuff.” You titered a bit, unsure how to continue such a conversation. Did Armitage Hux really make your heart skip a beat now? First he jokes and now he makes your heart flutter, the world truly is full of wonders

“Yeah, totally. I-” He seemed absentminded for a second, something you could hardly ever see on the young team leader’s face. Everyone might talk about his cold attitude but no one could deny how dedicated Armitage was to his work. Even though you weren’t from the same department you knew long before this project presented itself in front of you, that he was the first in the office and also the last one to leave. His workaholism seemed even more prominent with his quick responses to your emails regarding the shared project no matter at which hour you would send them. It was something worth admiring and fearing at the same time. And now you were the one stuck in their mind and still staring at him.

“Hey, would you like- to go for a coffee or something?” His voice cracked in the middle, maybe it was trying to stop him from continuing but he still pushed through, the final bits of courage sending him past the finish line, finally asking.

OH.

“Your proposal is acceptable.” You tried to imitate his voice, those words as a reminder to the conversation you had with him after the first meeting.

“Thank god.” The relief on his face was comforting to see. Armitage was really keen to go out with you and it made you happy beyond anything.

Bonus little bits with Armitage’s POV:

He really hoped he could avoid Ben this morning but luck seemed not to be on his side this time. Armitage and Ben have been friend-workers since they both started in the company. They actually knew each other even before since they both went to the same college. At first they were not awfully close, Ben liked to annoy the fuck out of Armitage while he was trying to enjoy his morning coffee, lunch or evening run. Basically destroying nice things he liked but somehow the two of them stuck together and formed a sort of friendship over some time. That of course didn’t change anything on Ben annoying him with every single ounce he had in himself, which was the exact reason he really wanted to escape him this morning. This perfect late morning, he decided to enjoy himself and to read in bed until it was completely necessary to go to work. He never did that but recent sunshine in his office seemed to brighten his life and mood all the time so why not to enjoy a slow morning, he was after all always on time for 5 years straight now.

Armitage could see Ben towering over the cubicles scattered over the big room on the second floor of the company building. Ben was currently laughing over something some brown haired woman said, Armitage recently learnt her name was Rey and Ben was incredibly fond of her. This information was obviously carefully and pragmatically locked down inside his brain to be used later if the time called for it.

And so Armitage hoped he could silently walk down to his office without Ben annoying him so early in the morning, leaving him to reminisce about what today could bring him, especially if it was in the form of a cute co-leader he recently had the chance to meet. He was wrong, obviously, well not really, but yes, he was wrong.

The young redhead was correct when his thoughts browsed back to you and if you would be as cheerful in his presence as you were yesterday. What he however didn’t mean to summon was not only your attention but also Ben’s.

“Armitage!” And there you were, a sunshine smile and loud voice directing everyone's attention, including Ben’s, to yourself before they turned to see him.

He simply nods in acknowledgement without realizing his face was graced with a slowly spreading smile. Ignoring his previous distaste in morning conversation, giving her a small wave didn’t seem so annoying as greeting Ben.

“Well, well, well, who is trying to sneak by.” God, just his voice could irritate Armitage to death on most days but today it was exceptionally nightmare inducing.

“I wasn’t sneaking by. I was simply walking to my office.” He answers curly, not giving even a glance to Ben, his expression still souring into deadpan one.

“You should take your coffee with some milk, you are awfully bitter in the morning.” Ben sniggers, amused at his joke.

“You're the one who is quite giddy today. Did the board meeting yesterday go that well?” But Armitage is ready to fire back right at him.

“Nah, not really.” This finally got Ben to shut up and Armitage to go about his morning in silence.

******************

“I didn’t think you were the type to go crazy over a woman.” Ben’s laugh is loud and childish, echoing on the open walls of the main hall between offices.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The look he gave to Ben was one of his favorites, offended and beyond believe irritated. It was a perfect illusion for him to uphold, ‘cause in reality Hux’s mind was in a midst of complete panic but still he kept on his killer pace to his office, maybe to lose Ben in the big space where the rest of the desk of their subordinates was located.

How much does he know?

This thought however, stopped Armitage in his walk, contemplating if he should address it more. And finally where he was sure his tongue wouldn’t twist itself in his mouth when he spoke of you, he turned around.

“You talk like a cartoon villain, you know that, right?.” Ben’s tall form was not leaning on the side of one of the tables , his gaze partly fixed at his phone before it’s lifted to assess the redhead’s reaction. It was deliberate, it was all planned out, a humiliating and uncomfortable situation Ben could trap him in easily, to get all the answers he wanted.

Now he knew he couldn’t win against that ridiculous giant, this was always a losing game. If he took it too seriously Ben would admit to only be joking, trying to get a rise out of him, if he continued to ridicule or ignore his questions Ben would only tease him more, a truly lost game in Armitage’s eyes. “God, please go and do your job.” But still he could try to collect any advantage he could get his hands on, the advantage being taking everything and shutting himself in his office until the end of the day.

-collects all his things and gets up to leave

“I am working.” Ben’s cheerful voice still followed him, digging into his back in a teasing manner. “No, You are not!” Armitage was aware how his voice boomed through the office making some employees turn their heads over the ruckus but Ben was quite oblivious to his friend’s voice’s effect. He actually couldn’t help but laugh at his friend for moments still unaware of the attention he was given by his colleagues hidden among the various desks in that room. However, even Ben was deemed to notice the confused look he was given by one of the younger secretaries over the small cubicle wall.

“Sorry.” His hands flew up in an apology or a manner that reminded most of them of surrender, before he decided to lift himself up from the desk and proceed to an elevator. Ben of course caught a glimpse of her, so familiar brown haired woman who was already entering one of the elevators. Feeling his chance, Ben's quick walking, caused by his slight embarrassment from the situation prior, turned into jogging when he thought he was already out of sight for the rest of his colleagues.

“Hi.” The elevator was empty except for the said brown haired woman, she looked pretty, exceptionally pretty. Well, she always looked beautiful and so to level the playing field, Ben put on one of his charming smiles before he glanced her way.

**************************

“You should ask her out.” This was coldly stated in the midst of conversation about going for a drink since both of the men’s projects were going to finish soon. The sentence positively stunning Armitage into a statue with a cold sweat pooling slowly down his back while his dark haired counterpart continued to munch on his sandwich.

“Ask her out or I will.” This time those words were slurred between Ben finishing the prelast bite and attempting to stuff the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. Ben’s tall form was stashed between the seating area and one of the tables, he was crunched over but no one of it helped to not make him stand out in the crowd of eating people with his broad shoulders. Ben always towered over everyone, except over Phasma from accounting actually, but everyone else was a victim to his high stature. It was almost comical just as his words. Still, Armitage fumbled with his hands, dropping from one the document he was reading while not being able to control the other, his grip on the sandwich slipping until it unceremoniously slammed in his lap and into the napkin he thankfully unfolded on it.

“What?“

“Ask her out or I-”“I heard you the first time.” Ben was used to Armitage’s cruel remarks or even interruptions but this was the first time he did so with such a vigor.

“Why did you ask then?” There was a knowing smirk painted on his lips, the redhead falling into his trap one more time.

“I know you won’t ask her out.” This confused Ben greatly. What did he mean? The dark haired man adored teasing his pale friend on a daily basis but it was almost unheard of Armitage opposing him. He did attempt to oppose several times and it was not exactly as playful as Ben wished for, usually it consisted of Hux reminding him to get back to work and where is the fun in that? But this time, this time Armitage had something on Ben and he absolutely didn’t like it.

“Rey wouldn’t like that, would she now?” What was left of the knowing smirk on Ben’s face disappeared seconds after those words were muttered into the air between the two men. This time it was Ben who was left with red cheeks and ears, absolutely flabbergasted and fumbling hands with the wrappers of his now gone lunch.

************************

Armitage didn’t even realize how organized you were but now that he had the chance to see inside your office he was lost for words. Who would have thought someone like you would have neatly organized folders with color marked projects and spreadsheets for time management not only for your team but your work.

“You are awfully organized.” He truly was in awe at how your space looked.

“Thanks?”

“I expected to find a battlefield in your office but it’s- surprisingly tiddy?” He didn’t mean tiddy, he meant a perfect, absolutely and adoringly perfect environment for him to exist, something that almost seems to be made just for him.

“That’s kinda rude, Armitage.” He was not known for making a lot of people laugh, maybe Ben but it was more of a laugh at his own account, with you it was somehow ridiculously easy, apparently.

“I was complimenting you.” He objects, trying to defend his honor, it was not in his intentions to come off as rude as it might have seemed.

“Sure.”

Again with the laugh.

“You should take it as a compliment. Organized people are h-,” he paused, gulping down his words until it weighed heavy in his stomach,”good.”

“Good?” There was a suspicious smirk playing on your lips as if you knew what he wanted to say but Armitage almost sure you had no clue, you simply wanted to tease him a bit more.

But God, what if you did catch his misstep? No, surely you didn’t. He gave you one more questioning look to make sure you were none the wiser.

“Yes.” He had to clear his throat, to compose himself a bit by bit but there was an unbearable weight at his chest, almost too consuming. “For business. Organized people are known to be very reliable and hardworking employees.”

Yes, good. They are good. I totally didn’t mean hot. Because organized women are totally not absolutely hot. And I totally just didn’t realize it’s a thing for me. Ha ha. Please, act normal.

Armitage’s brain must have looked like a scrambled egg now, trying to unravel all his thoughts into a coherent solid state so he could function properly while unsuccessfully avoiding all his thoughts involving you and this office.

“Found it.” You held up a blue folder with a little yellow sticky note poking out of the main pages.

Oh, yes, the scripts for the main document, that’s what brought the two of you inside your office. That’s why he was now stuck between walls adored with shelves upon which sat dozens of cute plants. A complete opposite of his office but very cozy, it was obvious you decorated the room with a clear idea of making it a positive and comfortable environment. The purple sofa in the corner ideal for-

Yep, Armitage was fully aware he was fucked.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x reader au #office au #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #domhnall gleeson x reader #general hux x reader #isa writes #reylo #ben solo #rey and ben solo

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