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weixuldo · 1 year

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Allow me// ch 4

Vader x Reader

a/n: Hello hello!! sorry for the wait! I will say that were entering more of the “x reader” content that I know most of you are looking forward to heh, but who doesnt love a good slow burn?? hah ty for reading :)

Your boss is not happy about your absence yesterday

warnings: Cannon typical violence, force choking, real choking (and not in the fun way lol), Death, implied death, cursing, anxiety

_____________________

“You never arrived at your posted station yesterday officer y/n, so where in the galaxy were you?!” your red faced manager shouted at you as he dabbed at the sweat forming above his bushy brow.

“I was pulled aside to complete-”

“I don’t give a fuck about who asked for your assistance, you report to me. And unfortunately your task was not completed yesterday so who do you think got chewed out? Me!” he huffed, not allowing you to finish your sentence. This was causing a bit of a scene in the semi-public hallway.

If he weren't always like this, a passerby might think he was going to go into cardiac arrest.

“Sir, I am truly sorry, but when Darth Vader himself asks for your assistance, you can't really deny him,” you tried to explain calmly.

The winded man in front of you let out a gargantuan laugh, “You're tellin’ me… Darth Vader? The most revered Sith lord in the galaxy… asked for your help?! Hah! You gotta be outta your mind little girl”.

“It is true sir, I didn’t get a chance to tell you after I finished because It was late and our wing was closed”.

“Oh yea, I'm sure you did get back pretty late” he laughed.

“Pardon?”

“We all hear what the troopers say about you little miss, surprised you didn’t take your knee pads yesterday, well with all that dick you’ve been sucking”

Wow, this puny man was really proud of himself, wasn't he. It was honestly disgusting.

“I do not think that is appropriate workplace behavior, sir” you tried to remain as cordial as possible; with basically the whole executor aiming for the target on your back, you felt like you had to be on your very best behavior all the time.

“Yea, well in my department, I make the rules and since you carelessly neglected your duties yesterday, I’m giving you the highly acclaimed task of cleaning the restrooms in the communal sector, and once you're done with that I think I’ll give you a task all the way in the bridge” the man smiled a toothy grin before insisting time was “of the essence”.

The cool bathroom floor made you shiver as your knees hit the tile, you went through so much schooling and apprenticeships to do ….this.

Wonderful.

To make it even better you had to keep the door open because the cleaning chemicals needed to be aired out or else they would be too strong; that gave your whole department the lovely view of your ass bent over the toilets, scrubbing away the grime.

It was humiliating, but what were you going to do? Defy your manager and possibly lose your job? No.

It was bad enough that everyone here seemed to hate you, why would you lose a decent paying job too?

You sighed as you heard some of your co-workers snickering;

“I bet that tile is uncomfortable”

“I wouldn't worry about it, she’s probably used to being on her knees hah!”

Finally, you reached the last stall and you were getting high off of the fumes of the cleaning materials. You felt gross and you were getting a headache, your boss didn’t even give you the health regulated mask to use as you worked with the chemicals.

You were gathering up the cleaning bottles and rags when you heard the bustling of your office grow silent. That wasn’t normal, usually there were at least a few yappy voices gossiping about some dumb drama within the department.

You were inclined to peek around the doorway of the bathroom, but you decided not to do anything that could get you yelled at…again.

Suddenly you heard a hushed voice, “He’s coming”.

At that, your senses heightened. Could it be?

Him.

You had no reason to be excited for his arrival, after all it's not like you were in a fantasy story where he would whisk you away and make you his-

The familiar sound of the steel door sliding to the side filled the bay and in came those heavy boot steps, patterned breathing, and demanding aura.

Darth Vader was here.

“My Lord, how may I be of assistance” your boss bowed at the dark figure before him; his face finally cooled down from the bright red it was when he yelled at you earlier.

“I need to speak with one of your mechanics” the Sith spoke, surveying the room.

“Yes, of course! We can get you someone right awa-’

“You misunderstand, General. I need one specific mechanic” Vader corrected.

“Oh! My apologies, who may you be in search of?” Your boss recovered his mistake, though you could see the redness creeping up the back of his neck again.

“F/N L/N.”

Did you mess up your details yesterday?

You felt less worried for your safety then you once did because you had shared a few one-on-one moments with the dark lord.

But

His sudden appearance in your wing did confuse you.

You peeked around the bathroom door’s opening and saw your boss nervously glancing at the bathroom door.

“Ohh, um, of course My lord…. Though might I add, if some repair was done incorrectly I apologize on behalf of the mechanic’s branch… she tends to do faulty work– and we will deal with her accordingl-”

“Quite the contrary, general.”

The-now- red faced man blinked in surprise at the Sith’s words.

“M-My Lord?”

He stole another glance back to where you were.

“What is in the bathroom that is so interesting that you cannot focus on our conversation?” The cloaked figure demanded as he made his way over to where you were.

Quickly you scurried away from the entrance and went back to cleaning on the other end of the facility; You'd rather not be caught actively eavesdropping.

The Sith stomped into the bathroom with a determination that gave you butterflies. His helmet turned towards you before he commanded you to rise.

Oh… maybe he was frustrated with you.

Your excitement turned into uncertainty as you followed the man out of the restroom.

“Leave the bucket” he added, talking about the pail with all of the cleaning supplies and rags.

You stepped out of the chemical filled bathroom and inhaled a deep breath of clean air; as you followed the flowing cape of the man in front of you, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Vader suddenly stopped, causing you to almost run straight into his broad shoulders.

“Would you care to explain why a mechanic of the empire was wasting time sanitizing the restroom facilities and not a cleaning droid?”

“Well, My Lord, she had not arrived at her posted work station yesterday, so we thought it best to punish her accordingly” Your boss replied with a nervous toothy grin.

“Who approved that method, General?”

“Well- Umm” the shorter man stammered.

“Because I see no advantages to this situation. More work is delayed and the cleaning is less efficient”

Damn, he really just implied you didn’t know how to clean a toilet.

“Yes, Of course My Lord, My apologies… it will not happen again” Your boss profusely apologized.

“Very well. I am not pleased when workers take their own liberties when abridging protocol on MY ship” The Sith proclaimed irritably.

The sleazy man cowered and stepped aside, allowing the cloaked Sith passage.

“Y/N, you are to come with me” Vader spoke, without turning to look at you.

Your whole body felt tingly as you walked behind him (and not in the fun tingly way…. More like dread). You weren’t used to him taking a demanding tone with you.

You followed him out and his squadron followed closely behind you; the hallway was silent except for the shuffle of the trooper’s boots and the man’s breathing. What had you gotten yourself into?

Only around halfway down the hallway the man in front of you suddenly stopped, prompting you to halt abruptly behind him. You were so close that his cape brushed the tip of your nose before you took a few steps back.

Vader slowly turned his head to the side as if he were sensing something. Was he feeling your fear?

The profile of his mask seemed more and more ominous with every second.

You were about to ask him what was the matter, but before you could he walked past you back towards where you both just were.

Were you supposed to follow him?

He had already entered the room when you caught up with him. You weren't sure what he was doing, but you sure didn’t expect to see him choking your boss in the middle of the room.

The smaller man had no chance as the dark giant held him firmly in his gloved hand. It was almost sad how much your boss was struggling; he kicked his feet and clawed at Vader’s iron fist.

“Would you care to repeat what you just said, general?” Vader questioned.

All the man could muster was broken chokes and gasps as his face turned bluer by the second.

“First you think you can change protocol and then you have the audacity to insinuate my business with one of your mechanics” he scoffed before dropping the man from his grasp.

He fell hard with a thud and gasped for air.

Vader straightened his form and took a look around the room at all of the terrified workers.

“Do not be so ignorant as to think I do not hear your childish gossip on my own ship.”

Suddenly you realized what this was all about…

the rumors.

Of course a mighty sith lord wouldn’t want to be talked about behind their back, especially if people were insinuating they were getting their rocks off, but there was a certain double standard among the men of the galaxy. It was seen as something to be proud of when a man would bed many women or have “sex slaves” (for lack of better terms).

You really didn’t understand why he was so heated… was it because it was you?

A sudden wave of nausea washed over you; was he only disgusted because they were pairing him with you? Did he think you were that embarrassing to be associated with?

Vader turned his attention back to the man on the ground.

“Pathetic” he huffed before turning back to the gallery of shocked workers.

“Let him be an example for you all”

In a swift motion he turned his clench fist and the man’s neck snapped with a sickening crack.

Your eyes widened and you heard others gasp; you had only ever heard of the Sith’s capability, never seen it.

Vader turned on his heel and promptly left the room, strutting down the hall quicker than he was before; you were frozen for a moment, but then you hurried after the Sith. Hopefully what he needed you for would be something less… deadly.

___________________________

The room was freezing and the fabric of your uniform was not doing much to help with the cold.

After the ordeal at your workplace, Vader brought you to a room that you had not previously seen. In keeping with the rest of the ship, the room was the rich obsidian that you grew accustomed to. There was a large seat in front of the window that beautifully displayed the vast view of space.

Currently you were seated on a couch that was in front of the chair; much to your surprise it was a pretty comfy one.

None of the troopers entered the room with you and the Sith, so you worried this was it. You were going to die.

He asked you to take a seat but then disappeared into another connecting room.

In his absence, you recalled all of your interactions with him, trying to figure out what grounds he had to kill you? Nothing you had done was out of line, it was more the mistakes of those around you… but what were you going to do, protest the Sith’s plans?

You became sad when you reminisced on your feelings for the man… What a fool you were. You really thought that the cold and stoic man liked you. You thought you were connecting with him- and he even allowed you to drop formalities around him-

What went wrong?

You were too naiive, that’s what was wrong.

Your nerves began to settle a bit when he hadn’t returned, it had been around two hours by now. Whether he wanted to play a cruel waiting game or not was becoming more and more irrelevant to you.

You were sure your fate was sealed, so what was a few more hours? Plus you had a very emotionally taxing day and your lack of sleep was catching up with you.

This couch was feeling more and more appealing and your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier…

Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt, you would just make sure to set an alarm on your watch for you to wake up.

yeah… just a quick-

***

a/n: alrightyyy thank you for reading and if you guys have any questions about the pacing of this story or enigma, dont hesitate to shoot me an ask! Love you all :)

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger @duckyhowls @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06

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starscelly · 1 year

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anyone want an essay on how i think/interpret Miro as just a Guy rather than miro the player, wrote on 23hrs of no sleep and having not read it over once since? bon appetite.

so. if you know/follow me you know i am a Big miro heiskanen guy. occasionally to a deranged level. and as much as i feel the need to scream about him every .5 seconds i do in fact have to confess. i have no fucking idea what his personality is. like he’s so insanely quiet and/or professional in everything he does that im like ok, but who the hell is miro the Guy.

and initially i put all of this on language barrier stuff - typically, guys who have super strong accents or not the best english tend to be more comfortable in interviews with their first language. and miro for sure is! but it’s not stuff you couldn’t pick up on from his english interviews or even watching him on the ice. whether its in finnish, english, or the universal body language, at first look miro is a pretty standard hockey player: he’s pretty quiet, has no problem chirping the guys in his circle, and is nauseatingly humble. he stumbles through the same interview clichés, he doesn’t go out of his way to pick fights or get physical - will typically avoid it, even - and he doesn’t tend to get super yappy towards other players or refs. if a little scrum doesn’t directly involve him, he’ll skate in to get his guy or break it up, but he almost never even Looks at what’s happening (i’ve noticed he just looks down at the ice a lot if he has to step into commotion near the net or anything). like he is the most normal, boring man in the world seemingly. minus a few more yappy angry moments this season. he just seems happy to be here and ruin the lives of the opposing team all the while being like :| :\ !!!

but like. obviously i would not be making this post if thats all i had to say lol. when i’ve heard the term “quiet confidence” used to describe guys its… well its quiet in the way every hockey player HAS to be quiet. like they’re quietly confident because they know if they go in front of the media and say they know how amazing they are, someone online will immediately call them full of themselves and talk shit and scrutinize. the sport is team-first occasionally to a fault, we all know this. but if the behavior of a lot of guys in this league can be described as quiet confidence? miro’s confidence is silent. everyone on this team will talk about how they’ll lay down their lives for him. kill for him, probably. but you will almost definitely not directly hear the words “i am the best defenseman” coming from his mouth, no matter the context.

but you do, you do hear hints of it if you really listen. you hear it in the “i know when i play well” line he gave razor. you hear it in the not hesitating or being nervous to say “i was happy with my defense. it was defensively my best season”. you hear it in that one postgame where he says he had robo swap places with him because miro knew he was a stronger skater and would do better going backwards. you see it in the way he saw the panic from losing one of their highest scoring defensemen, their “top dog” dman, and can tell in the change in his play that he just knew he had to take up the mantle, he was gonna be The Guy with nobody else to fall back on, there couldn’t possibly be another option. and he’s succeeded TREMENDOUSLY at this, for the record. i’m sure there are others for it, but i feel like one of the reasons he never gets big with cellying is because he thinks he just did what was expected of him, why would he go crazy over something he knew he could do. in an nhlwam he talked about scoring more this season (outright saying he needed to be better about getting points for the norris btw) not as if it was a goal to work towards, but as if it was something set in stone, definitely going to happen. hell, even when hes getting chirped (by calling him attractive. a very hockey chirping) for looking like leonardo dicaprio, he doesn’t default to “ahhh nooo…” or “yeah right”, he says “no, nobody made fun of it. i guess they liked the pictures”. it’s never loud, he’s never boasting, he’s just very sure in his own abilities and doesn’t feel the need to brag about things he thinks should be expected for him anyways, or things he already knows he’s good at. like its a given. silent confidence.

i think it’s very very easy when guys are as quiet as miro is to write them off as. i dont want to talk specifically abt fic characterization so know that that’s not the context of how im talking abt this lol i just cant think of a better word. but its easy to act like he’s “submissive” almost. like i feel like there’s this underlying narrative of allowing himself to get pushed around by older defensemen and whatever. but i dont see that? not in that like. i think there’s fights in the fuckin locker room or something. but i get the vibe if he wanted to say something, he would. we’ve seen him yap at refs when absolutely necessary (hell. we saw him hit one and get away with it somehow lmfao), i personally can’t stop thinking of the lack of hesitation from him to call out / make fun of suter in an interview with kivi (in a lighthearted way, on a non-hockey related matter but still an embarrassing one tbh).

i feel like we all get this idea in our heads when people are placed in positions like his - initially as second priority to klinger, and then constantly being stuck with a liability on his d pairing - that they probably just get like. "oh this sucks, but i cant pick a fight about it, for team dynamics/coach respect/whatever". but i do think miro just. genuinely is not worried with it. he knows his own ability and cannot be bothered by whatever else is around him. which im not saying as a defense of the some of the…. defensive coaching decisions. but i do seriously think he doesn’t even care. not in an apathetic way, but in a complete confidence that he’ll be able to handle whatever it is way.

#i feel like i lost a plot a little towards the end. but this is miro heiskanen 2 me #i have genuinely struggled with this for a long time lol #bc im like. okay he's not the guy getting dragged around and out and about everywhere like a shy kid.#which i feel is an interpretation i see or see similar to a lot. which is fine!#but also. he's not like. fuckin. tyler at his age. yk #obviously theres a lot of in between between the two but. idk #this is mostly an appreciation piece for his confidence/mindest tbh #also its like. when he's seen as this completely silent little thing. why do u think they gave him an A.#why do u think he has to release the bitch so often #recently #idk!!!!! just thoughts. thinking #miro heiskanen #yap yap yapping #long post #hey. let me know if this is entirely incoherent LMFAOO

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biffhofosho · 2 years

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MY TIME HAS COME HI I AM BACK and this time I TRIPLE CHECKED FOR TYPOS IN THIS MF!!!!! I guess I don’t have to tell you how excited I am to finally read this. The paragraph with the vibe ALONE has me howling, literally since I am home alone.

The idea of the big bad werewolf having a small fluffy, yappy dog sends me

I love that mysterious neighbour vibe, I do. I mean everything was fine till HE WAS BITTEN!!!!! Hahaha

I Mean I grew up in Mexico, damn dogs bark every night, all night, I never noticed until my husband complained to me about it. If it’s often enough you’ll tune it out, but yeah, every month? You gotta notice that

Also high five for mentioning mesoamerican anthropology, lol

I love the way you describe the houses and the general ambiance of the neighbourhood,

Agan, had this been in Mexico, you would have neighbours and people knocking on your door because, where have you been? We haven’t seen you in ages? Is everything ok? Do you need anything?

Oh wow, “a helping hand” comes into action. Wink wonk

“Flashes of chains, of white-knuckled hands on wrists and waists, of tits furiously bouncing and cock wickedly hammering between shaking thighs, flooded her mind along with the dopamine” GOOD LORDT YES

Also thanks for not using the phrase “Ruined underwear” to talk about some wetness on your knickers.

“Kat couldn’t shake it from her mind. He was living in there, somewhere deep in the shadows of her most primitive self, possessing her, and he didn’t even have the dignity to be real.” I FUCKING LOVE THIS

Magic, Witchcraft, and the Supernatural Body anthro course. SIGN ME UP!!! Ohhhhh sexy neighbour, and he’s angry, yes

Give me one more. I know you can, baby. Good girl. OF COURSE IT WAS HIS VOICE.

I want nothing in life except Yoo Kihyun calling me his good girl.

Wow her note is so passive aggressive, I love it

“You’re welcome to come over any time you want and try.” CHALLENGE OR INVITATION? I SAY BOTH

KITTEN? Just like that? Not even a warning?? I normally hate pet names, but not this one and not coming from this specific man

I spoke too soon about the ruined underwear…. (they are not ruined, just wet, they will be fine. looooooll)

OMG IS SHE IN HEAT??????

The howling again!!!!!! Awwwwoooooooooooooooooo

“This one was long and warbling, like a desperate cry for attention, and it had hers instantly” I AM CHEWING ON MY HAND

For a moment I thought I might have eaten the dog, lol. I am glad he’s safe

“I had to, officer! The dogs sounded lonely?” LOL. like when you break the window of a car because there’s a dog inside in a very hot summer

OMG SHE IS IN HIS BED NO!!!! SHE IS GONNA DO IT, YES SHE IS AND THIS PROBABLY THE PART WHERE I, TOO, WILL BECOME FERAL.

OH SHE DID NOT. I am dissapoint…

But also I love how dramatic she is. That’s what goody-two-shoes always do, be dramatic and think the police will take them to jail forever

“She did not expect to see her neighbor tethered by a thick leather collar to the wall.” OK NO THIS IS WHERE I GO FERAL

“Of course it's my business. It's for me.” Lower now, in a borderline hiss, he added, “I can smell it. You’re almost ready— It’s time to—god, if you’d just let me—” i mean reading this in context, complete… just makes me grgrrgggrrgggggggg

Kihyun asking her if he came on his bed just got me doing a little dance

“There’s no time for that now. Can’t you see I’m losing the last of my control, baby? There are things it needs, like fresh meat and moonlit runs, and there are things it wants. I'm down here because of the things it wants. If it weren’t for this chain…” I AM MAKING THE MOST INCOHERENT NOISES RIGHT NOW

HIS MATE!!!!!! HIS MATE I AM….

The way he called for her! The way he is desperate but yet he commands her! The way she surrendered! I hope you know I am cursing at you right now cause it’s like you know what I like.

that part where she is howling and she notices? I MEAN KINDLY FUCK OFF!!!!!!!

The way he babbles into her neck

I am gone

Bye

Ohhh the pearly gift, that’s poetic AF

AHHH trusty friend Hyungwoo, gotta love him

OH THEY’RE A PACK I AM SO HAPPY

My memes come true!!

Also, so romantic!!! So beautiful. After the dust of lust settled, there's looove and I can’t get enough of it

“You’re not alone anymore.”

MAAAAAANNNNNN, so good!!! So fucking good!!!! I love it and I am so happy right now, of course now i am gonna go to work thinking about this, lol

and every time I read anything from you

love you sososos much

Yes, babygirl, I'm so glad you could actually read in a timely fashion before the next one drops (*coughs* this Sunday *coughs)!

Ah, see? That's very interesting about the barking dogs. This would fly totally under the radar there, but not in the American suburbs. Fuck, I'll report your nuisance dog lol. Don't fuck with my sleep! *insert "ain't nobody got time for that" gif*

Maybe--just maybe--I slipped that Mesoamerican thing in there for my good friend. ;)

Hahahaha, yeah, Americans go their entire lives living next door to the same people and have no fucking clue what their names are because we *care* about each other... >.>

LOL

"didn't even have the dignity to be real" -- I may or may not have been targeting myself with this line. <.<

I love that we want the same things in life loooooooool.

Gee, I know nothing about being passive aggressive at all............... 100%, I would have written that note.

Girl, bye, "ruined for the day" is unnecessarily wordy, and if you gotta spend the whole day in them, yeah, that shit also ruins your day lol... Not that I would know anything about such things................................................

You almost ate the dog? Heh.

hahahahahahaha you are not the only one to be disappoint in that ;)

Yes! You get special friends-only previews, but when you see how something fits into the larger picture, it gets a bit more intense, doesn't it?

Girl, can I just say, picturing Kihyun crawling across the floor on a fucking leash made me very unstable for a while after writing it.

I am glad it made you happy, friendo. <3 This was the longest ask ever, and I loved it. Werewolf agenda achieved! So many more fun AUs to tackle still. Can't wait for you to read them all.

#gee thanks #new bestie!#best reader ever #bad dog #it's so much fun being your friend <3

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dontcallmecarrie · 3 years

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Replying to the commenters of this post [heads up for angst]:

To @kine-iende, who said:

hot damn. if "our" justin was a mom-friend in their home-universe, here people would start questioning if justin was in secret a very motherly scrull or something (and be fine with it ^^). but yeah, love the trope too. was it "for the want of a nail" or "through a mirrorm darkly"? well, contrast and a what could have been would be lovely. feel enabled, whenever you want to write this :)

I am not very familiar with the concept of Skrulls [...iirc, that’s something introduced in Captain Marvel, which I have yet to get around to], but yeah, that tracks. Assuming it’s a thing they know to look for, though, because here Justin’s being themself is the biggest and most obvious way to establish that they are not canon!Justin.

Sure, they’re identical physically, but the moment either Justin opens his mouth, the jig’s up.

As is, not five minutes into this strange hellscape where their oldest rival looked at them with no small amount of disdain in his eyes at first, Justin had already managed to charm their way out of holding and into a very relaxed “we’ll keep an eye on him” Avengers custody.

Well, on paper at least— in reality, most of the team doesn’t really give a damn one way or another, whereas Tony starts out morbidly curious as to just how different NHDD!Justin is to the one he’s used to dealing with, and ends up getting a concentrated dose of All The Feels™ because the moment NHDD!Justin realized this Tony had a metric buttload of undiagnosed-and-constantly-belittled mental health issues and a support system that was equal parts duct tape and caffeine, he went “oh, so this universe is the Hell Timeline, okay, makes sense :) :) :) dammit Ivan you’d better fix this stat”.

In retrospect, Justin’s not sure when exactly the horror show started; if it was the absolute lack of concern or care the Avengers had for their Tony, or the minute they noticed the gauntness in his face. Maybe the tension between Iron Man and Captain America, or the obvious bravado this Tony used– and the fact that none of the others so much as noticed.

All Justin knows is, a version of someone they care about is hurting, hurting badly and has been for a long time now, and that’s more than enough for them to go “oh, okay, mine now”.

For his part, Tony has no idea what the hell’s going on. The non-annoying Justin Hammer who crash-landed an Avengers debrief is...something else, and he’s torn between shock, pleasant surprise, and no small amount of existential angst and jealousy because in the span of a few hours, Tony’s had a brief taste of what some other version of him had for a lifetime, and...

Tony’s not sure how he feels about it. He’s a genius, he can wrap his head around string theory and all that good stuff, but numbers are one thing, having to live with the fact that somewhere out there, a version of him grew up with someone so unfailingly kind and supportive and—Tony can’t think of a better word for it than nurturing— and, in the span of seconds, had been able to call him out on his bullshit and seemed to instinctively push him to be better but not in the demanding way his father or the rest of the world had—

If he thinks about it too long, it makes him want to cry, just a little. Somewhere out there was a Tony who’d been enough for someone, who had never been asked to change himself, who’d been pushed up instead of repeatedly torn down and he didn’t know how to deal.

He’d thought having a non-annoying Justin around would be funny.

This was not, it was goddamn distressing is what it was, because Tony hadn’t even known it was a possibility but now he is acutely aware of the fact that he got stuck with his Justin— the human embodiment of one of those yappy dogs who nipped at people’s heels thinking they were so tough, despite not being able to back it up.

This Justin was, uh, not that. Tony wasn’t sure if he was always like this, or if it was only with him because he shared a face with someone Justin cared about, but... was he always this much of a mom friend? And where’d that granola bar even come from, anyway? Not that he minded, it was a nice change of pace, but really?

...Tony was really going to miss him, once they figured out a way to send him back home.

To the commenter who said:

Stephanie isn’t a canon character, is she? Because if not, NHDD!Justin might be able to pull off a “the birth of my little sister awakened my previously deeply buried parental instincts” to explain his whole… [gestures uselessly].

Technically, she could be, in that Justin Hammer has a sister and nephew in canon [according to the wiki and a deleted scene, apparently]. I chose to make her a younger sibling in NHDD, to really emphasize the ‘reincarnated with shitty memory’ aspect of this AU. Specifically, while it’s never specified, Justin’s past life was...not great, and part of it was the fact that their younger sibling was sick.

With what, they don’t remember anymore, but sick enough that they know health isn’t something to take for granted; sick enough that towards the end, they remember their parents had to choose between paying hospital bills and electricity, remember going to bed hungry because meds were expensive and their next paycheck wasn’t until Friday.

...suffice it is to say, there’s a reason Justin’s so protective of those he cares about, even if his memories faded a bit on the specifics as time went by.

To be fair, canon!Justin also cares for his sister and nephew; it’s just that NHDD!Justin acted more like a third parent than a sibling, once Stephanie was born.

Bear in mind that canon!Justin’s situation is very different than NHDD!Justin’s, because canon!Justin was basically set up to fail from the start as a normal kid who was constantly compared to a child prodigy two years younger than him and terrible parents. While NHDD!Justin’s situation is similar on the surface, the difference is they’re literally a reincarnated OC, with all the baggage that entails.

Maybe, if their second life hadn’t been surrounded by adults with A+ Parenting Skills, 0/10 Do Not Recommend, their issues and traumas from last time wouldn’t have been exacerbated. If they’d been born to a regular family, Justin would’ve been a good kid but nothing special, and their memories of a past life would’ve faded away by the time they hit puberty.

But instead, they were born to the Hammer family, and proceeded to be put through the wringer.

Which is bad enough, and meant they immediately started leaning hard on everything from their past life because these people wouldn’t know good parenting if it bit them on the nose, but...then Justin’s little sister was born, which immediately kick-started every older sibling instinct they’d ever had because last time they’d been responsible for their younger sibling’s health and safety and you can probably see where this is going.

aka yes, some of Justin’s behaviors could arguably be called trauma responses and/or coping mechanisms and it’s something I only realized as I was writing this, and no, this AU was not supposed to be this messed up

Justin’s responsibility, their willingness to deal with shitty parents and do tremendous amounts of emotional labor if it helped anyone they took under their wing? That’s no accident, that’s what happens when a soul has to be the adult, has to step up because nobody else is going to. There’s a reason Justin has so much disdain for Hank Pym and Howard Stark’s immaturity, why they have so little patience for their parents as time goes on; their mental age means the older they get, the more they’re looking at the adults around them and judging them hard.

...ahem. Sorry for getting a bit off-topic, but hey, at least now you know a bit more about what’s going on inside Justin’s head!

And yeah, if he had to bs an explanation for why he’s such a mom friend, Justin’d be more than happy to point to his little sister as an excuse. So long as they know she exists, anyway; if not, he’ll just laugh it off and try to chalk it up to one of the differences between their universes.

edit to remove the stuff that got through my nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter because I was averaging a not-optimal amount of sleep as I got used to my new job

#No Hero [Downward Descending]#Naught replies #replies #thinking aloud

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georgescatcafe · 3 years

Text

the rising chariot — 3

rating: t warning/s: none pairing/s: platonic dream team, karl jacobs/sapnap genres/tags: percy jackson and the olympians au, friendship, angst summary: Nick Pappas isn’t sure it’s normal for teenagers to be sent across the United States on a quest that could potentially kill them, but Nick has started to realize that everything he thought was normal is entirely false. George Davies doesn’t particularly want to spend three consecutive days with this new camper and that son of Hermes who snagged his win in Capture the Flag two weeks ago, but he knows he has to suck it up and go with them, no matter how irritating they may be. Clay Bryce just wants to prove himself and show that he’s more than that troublesome kid from Cabin Eleven, but even as the leader of this quest, he’s not sure how to when Nick has fire powers and George is practically capable of mind-control.

Yet what they feel and want will mean nothing if they don’t complete their quest. When a petty feud between gods has Apollo threatening to take the Sun from the sky, the three must head out to stop him, but not just that—they’re in a race against an ancient enemy of the god, one who definitely will try and kill him if it gets to Apollo first.

New York City was as terrifying as it was large. Which means very. Floris, luckily, knew the city well, and he led Nick past block after block to their hotel.

“Don’t people normally take a cab?” Nick asked once they had their bags set down on their respective beds. “Like… that’s an NYC staple?”

“I’m a native,” Floris replied, distracted as he dug through his suitcase. He grinned when he pulled out a hoodie. “I forgot how cold it was here, even in the spring.”

“Is it?” Nick asked, only wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I thought it was nice.”

“It is nice,” Floris agreed, even as he tugged the hoodie on over his head, “but I get the chills when I’m here. Can’t help it.”

“So is it cold or not?”

“Yes,” Floris said, talking his bag off the bed and setting it on the floor. “Anyway, get your nap in, your jet-lag settled; I’m giving you a full tour of the Big Apple before dinner.” He settled atop his bed, arms stretched behind his head, and Nick made a face at the shoes touching the covers.

“Seriously, man?” he asked. “Shoes in the bed?”

“Not in the bed,” Floris replied smartly. “On the bed.”

Nick made another face, but didn’t argue.

His nap was poor, tossing and turning, never properly falling asleep, while Floris snored on, feet kicking and fingers twitching. Nick wished he slept as good as the other. But instead he ended up staring at the ceiling, waiting for the other to wake and take him on this tour.

When Floris did wake, he looked refreshed, and he pranced around the room getting everything he needed (which was apparently just some cash, an umbrella, and a change of shoes, except he went into the bathroom to change them, which Nick thought was weird, but he didn’t comment on because he just wanted to get out of the stifling hotel room). By the time Floris came out, Nick was standing by the door, hands shoved in his pockets to keep them from moving restlessly.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I’ve been ready,” Floris replied, allowing Nick to pull the door open and letting it fall shut behind him.

They made their way down to the lobby, where it was clear it was a new shift, a new receptionist sitting at the desk. Nick wondered what went through the man’s head, with the way he fixed a piercing stare on them. Floris didn’t seem to notice the stare, however, as he kept on his merry way, beginning to talk about all the things New York had to offer. Nick couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder one last time, though, before they exited the building, catching the eyes of the receptionist. A chill went down Nick’s spine. Quickly, he turned away and hurried to follow Floris as he began to walk down the street.

“Obviously we can’t see everything, and we definitely can’t do it all tonight,” Floris was saying when Nick focused on him once again, “but we can just walk around for now, and I can give general directions. Also, I personally am not a fan of the subway, but you can go on it.”

“I,” Nick looked around, “don’t need to go on the subway. Are you sure about the cab thing?”

“Does it matter?” Floris asked.

Nick guessed it didn’t.

Floris was an alright tour guide, if you overlooked the fact that he didn’t say much about any actual landmarks or places you’d find in a NYC guidebook. Nick wondered if that made him a better tour guide or not. They stopped at a nondescript deli and had sandwiches and soda for dinner. Nick stared as Floris happily ate a veggie sub, tomato juice spilling down his chin.

“Is that actually any good?” he asked. “It’s like… salad between bread.”

“It’s good,” Floris reassured. “Is yours good?”

“Duh,” Nick replied.

When they got back to the hotel, the receptionist wasn’t there, but Nick swore he could still feel those eyes on his back. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he and Floris got in the elevator, heading up to the fifth floor.

“That receptionist from before,” Nick said when the doors slid shut, “did you see how he was looking at us?”

“The receptionist?” Floris echoed, thinking. “No. Why? Was he looking at you weird or something?”

Nick frowned, but he shook his head. The guy probably just had a staring problem, or maybe he thought Nick’s t-shirt was stupid or something. He ignored that feeling in him saying that not telling Floris was a bad idea. Besides, if Floris didn’t care, it probably was fine, right?

The doors slid open and Floris led them back to the room. Nick flopped onto his bed, now properly ready to sleep.

“I hate walking,” he said. “My legs hurt.”

“Sleep it off,” Floris replied, disappearing into the bathroom. He stuck his head out. “Might go downstairs to get more of that fresh air. Is that okay?”

“You’re really weird,” Nick answered.

Floris smiled before his head went back through the doorway. Nick never saw him leave, eyes slipping shut, breath going even, sleep overtaking him.

He was back in the hotel lobby. Nick looked around, for the receptionist, for Floris, but it was just him. He took a seat on the bench.

“You’re late.”

Nick jumped, and when he turned, a woman sat, one of those small, yappy dogs held in a purse on her lap. When Nick waved at it, it growled and spat. He made a face. “Nice dog,” he said.

“What dog?” the woman asked.

Nick looked at her before pointing. “The one in your purse.”

“I don’t have a dog,” she replied.

Nick looked to her lap once again. There was no purse, no dog.

He stood. “Um, my bad.”

“Are you okay?” the woman asked.

“Fine,” Nick snapped, irritation culminating under his skin. “Who are you again?”

“Did you forget me already?” she stood too. In her seat sat that dog in the purse. Nick stared at it, and again, it growled. Nick looked at the woman. “It’s rude to forget people, you know. Fills people with a certain rage; you’ve felt rage before, haven’t you?”

“Not because someone’s forgotten my name,” Nick answered.

“So you’ve felt rage,” she continued, “and what did it do to you? Did you feel rage when they took your mother? Did you feel rage when that new woman came to replace her?”

Nick took a step back as the woman took a step closer.

“Hot and burning inside you, you scream and no one hears, what a weak little boy you were.” She laughs, and it’s a witch’s cackle, high-pitched and grating. Nick stumbles as something nips at the backs of his heels. The little dog, eyes rimmed red and crusty. It’s teeth trying to cut through his pants.

“Your dog,” he said, trying to kick it away from him, “make it stop.”

“Isn’t it cute?” she asked.

“You said you didn’t have a dog.” Nick managed to send him flying off, claws skidding on the polished tile. It ran back towards him.

“I don’t,” she replied. “Are you sure you’re okay? You keep doing something strange with your legs.”

The stupid dog was gone, and Nick was kicking and tripping on air. He cursed. “What’s up with you, lady? Seriously, you’re freaking weird.”

“Am I?” she asked. “I’m sure you know all about weirdness. Your friend, for instance, weirdest of all. Though he pales in comparison to you.”

“Floris?” Nick screeched when that stupid dog bit at his ankle, sweatpants now basketball shorts, ankles exposed perfectly for the dog to sink its teeth into. “Get your dog!”

“Yes. Floris. Forgot.”

“It’s rude to forget people’s names,” Nick echoed back to her.

The woman smiled, showing teeth tipped in red. Nick choked on a breath. “You’re absolutely right.” She snapped her fingers, and the dog was back at her side, yipping and yapping at her to pick it up. When she did, she stroked a calming hand down its back. It looked at Nick, and that’s when he realized there was foam around its mouth. His own mouth dropped open in horror.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Am I going to die?”

“This is a dream, stupid boy,” she answered. “And if you don’t remember me,” she laughed, that same spine-tingling cackle, “you’ll figure out who I am soon enough.” A sudden shriek pierced through the air, and Nick stood at attention, eyes wide and heart pounding. The woman’s smile stretched to a grin, those red-tipped teeth glinting in the bright lobby lights. “Best wake up now; you don’t want to be late again.”

Nick’s eyes blinked open. He was in the hotel room, in bed. He shoved the covers off him and hurried to put his shoes on. Everything in him screamed to go find Floris. Without a single look back, he flung the hotel door open and ran.

He avoided the elevator, fearing it would take too long, instead finding the door to the staircase and prying it open, the metal heavy but not enough to stop him. It’s cool where it is pressed to his skin. He rushed down the stairs.

The closer he got to the first floor, the louder the noises that come from the lobby were. Nick sped up as much as he could without tripping.

“Floris!” he shouted, unsure if the other could even hear him. He was breathless and panting by the time he reached the first floor but he shoved it open, the metal bar digging uncomfortably into his skin.

“Nick!” Floris shrieked. “Watch out!”

Nick moved out of the way just in time to miss a barrage of spines being flung at him. He sucked in a breath. “What—”

“Move!” Floris screamed, and Nick obeyed, dropping to the floor when a large paw came at him, claws extended. When Nick looked, he saw Floris’s hoodie had been torn in multiple places, hanging off his body loosely, in tatters. Nick took in another breath.

“How are you still alive?” he asked, crying out when more spines came at him.

“Who is this, Floris?” the monster growled. “You’ve brought another course? How delicious!” His lips curled into a treacherous grin, and when he spoke, his breath came out and hit Nick straight in the face, rancid.

Nick gagged against the smell, trying his best to get over to his friend.

“We need to,” he stuttered, “I can’t—fire, I can’t—”

“You have to,” Fundy replied. Nick shoved him and dropped to the floor when the monster ran out them, rolling under the massive body. (The mom lifting the bus for her baby.) His heart pounded. Floris had crawled behind the receptionist’s desk. His head poked up over the top. “You have to, Nick!”

“I’ll burn this place down!” Nick shouted. “I can’t—”

“But you have to!” the monster mocked. “You have to! You have to!”

Nick bared his teeth, anger beginning to boil his blood. “Yeah!” he replied. “And you have to die!” That was the only way—this thing was an abomination, the head of a man, the body of a lion, spines shooting from its tail with a single flick, leaving Nick dodging and ducking like nobody’s business.

Without fire, he was left defenseless, left to tire out the monster, but he knew it’s a lot more likely it’ll tire him out instead. Floris ran at him, then, and tackled him, sending the two of them through the sliding front doors. Even at night, the streets of New York City were bustling.

Floris grabbed him by the arm and took off, tugging Nick through the crowd. “This was a bad idea,” Nick just barely heard over the sounds of traffic.

When Nick turned back, the crowd was parted like the red sea, and charging right at them, the monster.

“A manticore,” Floris said, “one of the deadliest monsters out there. Just our luck.”

“I don’t want to burn down New York,” Nick replied.

“I know,” Floris tugged them down an alleyway.

“If he catches us, we’re dead,” Nick realized.

Floris looked at him. “So we can’t let him catch us.” He leapt onto a dumpster, and Nick was left to hurry after him. Floris scaled the building like nobody’s business. Below, the manticore shrieked and yowled as Nick climbed up as quickly as he could after his friend.

“How can you,” Nick sucked in a breath, “climb so fast? I thought you had,” another breath, “some kind of leg issue.”

Floris’s foot slipped. Nick yelled. Off came Floris shoe—foot—what? Nick stared at the hoof waving in his face.

“Come on!” Floris cried. “I’ll explain later!”

Then, Nick felt the back of his sweatpants rip straight down the middle, and pain flared hot and heady in his left leg. Shock flooded his body. He doesn’t know if he screamed. But he did know what he had to do.

Floris was already near the top of the building.

Nick climbed.

When he reached the top, Floris was waiting for him, arm outstretched to pull him up. Nick accepted it. Together, they ran, uncaring of the manticore they both knew continued to climb up after them.

Salt from his tears and wind stung in the corners of his eyes. He grit his teeth as he followed Floris across rooftops, biting back a pained groan every time his injured leg met the ground. Behind them, the manticore followed, chasing after them on all fours, calling to them, taunting them. Nick took a deep breath, preparing himself for the next jump.

“There’s somewhere you can go,” Floris said, his remaining ‘shoe’ left behind two buildings ago, hooves now carrying him easily. “It’s safer—monsters, like the one chasing us, they can’t get in.”

Nick looked at him before Floris stretched out an arm to stop him from falling off the edge of the roof. “Seriously?”

Floris nodded, then dropped his arm. Nick backed up then got a running start, stretching his legs as best he can as he jumped to the next roof. Floris followed not long after. And the manticore not long after that. Nick cried, genuine crying, not tears from the winds that whipped around them, as he reached the edge of another roof. The next building was across the street.

Nick turned to Floris.

“We won’t make it,” he said. “We won’t make it.”

Floris returned his stare. “We have to try to make it.” He wrapped his arms around Nick and sent them plummeting from the roof.

#sapnap #fundy #karlnap #dreamnotfound #pjo au #mcyt #updates every friday #fic #fanfiction #hfh

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #455

“but you didn’t have to cut me off / make it like it never happened and that we were nothing”

Are you and the last person you kissed in a relationship or just friends? We're besties! :') Has anyone ever pointed out that your laugh was unusual? No. Would you get a lip piercing? I already have a vertical labret. I've considered getting spiked snakebites (they might be called devil bites?) too, though. With a vertical labret, it looks sick as FUCK. It might be a bit much too close together for me, though, idk. Nose piercing? I want my right nostril re-pierced. What are you currently waiting for? Girt to message me back. I've decided what I want out of our relationship and just want to see him. Do you have feelings for anyone? Hit me pretty hard through a lot of examination of my feelings that yeah, I do. Have you ever run over an animal? Oh my god no, I would be DESTROYED. Have you chewed gum after someone else already has? bro what the fuck When people sneeze do you say ‘bless you’? I do only out of expectation. I don't want someone to think I'm an ass or something for not saying it. When was the last time you were on a bouncy castle? A few years ago for my niece's birthday. She was scared of how loud it was and was very reluctant to get near it, so my fat ass got in there with everyone else to show her it was fine lol. I can't remember if she eventually got in. She loves them now, though. :') Have you ever went on a bouncy castle whilst drunk? No, but thanks for the idea, ha ha. Have you ever entered an art competition? Yes. What is one thing you will never do? Try hardcore drugs. What is one food that you detest? Asparagus. Did you have a rebellious phase growing up? Not really. What religion were you brought up with? Roman Catholic. Are you still that religion? GOD NO. Do you often find yourself questioning your future? That's my full-time job. How many friends do you have on Facebook? 124. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? The same I listen to now. What pet names do you use with your significant other? I'm single rn, but usually, I go for "sweetie/sweetheart," "hunny," "love," "dear," stuff like that. What’s the name of the store you usually get your groceries? Wal-Mart. Have you ever seen a theatre show? Yes. What’s your favourite vegetable? Broccoli. Have you ever missed a flight? Yes. I was SO fuckin upset because it was on Sara's birthday and planned in secret, and I was supposed to wake her up. It still wound up being a big surprise to her when she walked into her room and I was chillin' at her desk, ha ha, but I still wish it coulda gone as originally planned. Do your neighbours have any pets? Have you ever met them? Yes; they have a yappy-ass dog that doesn't shut up. I haven't met them. What color is your bedroom door? White. If you were ever to become famous, would you grow annoyed at fans? This may sound very ungrateful, but I have heard A LOT of celebrities say it: it would get old, being stopped constantly in public for signatures, pictures, etc. Like yes, I still WOULD be grateful, but I'd miss just being off the radar and able to go outside carrying out chores and stuff like a normal person. Have you ever met your favourite band/singer? No. :( Are you embarrassed by any of the songs/singers/bands you like? Nah, not nowadays. Have you ever written a story? Yes, a kinda short one when I was little. Think of the last poem you wrote: What inspired you to write it? The breakup with Jason and the fact we're just strangers again. It was really short, but I like it a lot, honestly. Do you have a chance with the person you like right now? I think so. What’s the weirdest thing you were scared of as a child? A skeleton in my closet, lol. Literally. Are there any embarrassing stories your family tells about you? alkdsjflakjwle yes In your opinion, what is the funniest TV show? That '70s Show. 3rd Rock From the Sun is high up there, too. What is the maximum number of children you’d ever have? HYPOTHETICALLY, two, but I'm pretty damn serious about having none. I just always feel kinda bad for children without a sibling, but three would make me pull my hair out. Have you ever been concerned you had a serious illness? Yes. I overreact to even minor symptoms to ANYTHING. Are you comfortable with who you are? No. Pretty much everything about myself embarrasses me, even if it shouldn't. Would you date someone even if you knew you’d get made fun of for it? Yes? Others' opinions don't affect how I feel about someone. Does popularity matter to you at all? No, outside of trying to be a successful photographer. Would you ever consider homeschooling your children? If they really wanted that and it would benefit them, yes. Who told you about the band/singer you are currently listening to? I discovered them myself. Do you ever read fanfiction? Nah. Would you rather die in a plane crash, ship wreck or fire? Jesus. A plane crash, I guess, because in a lot of cases, it would be an immediate death. What are your top five favourite TV shows? Meerkat Manor, Fullmetal Alchemist (and Brotherhood; shut up, they go together), That '70s Show, Ginga Densetsu Weed, and Deadman Wonderland. What is your favorite superhero movie? Logan. If you died next week, what would be the cause of death? Uhhhh idk... I guess maybe a heart attack? Judging by doctor appointments, my heart is just fine, but the fact still remains that I'm technically obese, so that's always a risk. Have you ever taken a break from Facebook or other social media? Why? Facebook, yes. It was just depressing me. I was playing the comparison game REAL hard. Who is the most talented person you know? I dunno. I know many people talented in a lot of areas. Are you currently platonic friends with anyone you’ve had sex with? No. Where did you and your current interest go on your first date? Bowling. Have you ever experienced two people fighting over you (physically or mentally)? What happened? Jason and Juan pursued me at the same time. They'd known each other in the past, and Juan hated him for "winning" his ex-girlfriend. Then when Jason and I got together, Juan wasn't the happiest for sure. Have your parents ever thought you were gay? What happened? Before I actually came out as bisexual, I don't think so? Are your parents more liberal or conservative? Conservative. Mom is more open, but still conservative. I think. What year are you going into at the beginning of the next academic year? I'm not in school. How far away does your closest family member live? I live with Mom. If you’ve seen both, did you prefer the Disney version or the Tim Burton version of Alice in Wonderland? I actually strongly prefer Tim Burton's. Would you have sex before marriage? Why or why not? Yeah. I just want to be in a long-term, serious, healthy relationship to reach that point and be as safe as possible about it. Are you more liberal or conservative? Liberal, but I do have some conservative beliefs, too. Who is your favorite Harry Potter character? I don't have one, given I never got into that franchise. What’s the worst that could come out of letting gays marry? Not a goddamn thing. What’s the most sexual thing you’ve done? Done "the thing." Name something that you are against. I'll go with an unconventional one that's a problem as of the late: making owning reptiles illegal. Why are you against it? Because reptiles are perfectly capable of being brilliant pets and, most importantly, can tame people's fears of them. I think that it's very important to see the worth and beauty in all animals, and reptiles are one of the most unappreciated families out there. :/ Have you ever played the Tomb Raider games? I played some of either the first or second one. I could never beat it. Old games are hard, man. Do you like it or hate it when your partner is clingy? I absolutely believe that it can get to an extreme that I don't like, but for the most part, I don't mind a clingy partner because hey, I am too. Beatles or Rolling Stones? Stonessss. When was the last time you changed your opinion on somebody? It'd been on my mind for a while, but I *officially* realized that I really do like-like Girt a couple days ago. And since then it's gotten a bit hardcore and all I wanna do is talk to him bc fuck me and how attached to people I get. What was the last thing that made you feel proud and why? Every single time I go to the gym, I feel proud of myself because it REALLY takes a lot out of me. Do you feel uncomfortable when people you hardly know confide in you? Nope. I'm willing to be a shoulder to cry on for like... anyone. If you're hurting, talk to someone. I'll be there as an easy option. What was the last thing to fascinate you? It was... INCREDIBLY disturbing and almost nauseating even for me, but I saw a video of a dead whale explode. It was GRUESOME. Guts just kept coming and coming and coming and :x Is there a certain noise/sound which scares you? Hmmm... I'm sure there is, but what, it's not coming to me. Sudden, loud noises are an obvious answer. Do you have a favourite microorganism? ... No, I can't say I do. Out of the people you know, whose birthday is next? Girt's, actually. It's in October. If you have pet fish do you bother to name them? I did when I actually had them as a kid. Do you keep your eggs in the fridge? Ye. Have you ever owned chickens? No, but that'd be cool. Fresh eggs from a properly cared for chicken taste SO much better. When did you last listen to music? Currently. NOW I'm obsessed with Melodicka Bros & Violet Orlandi's cover of "Somebody That I Used to Know." It's done in a gothic metal style and is amaaaazing.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''somebody that i used to know'' by gotye

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melyaliz · 4 years

Text

Remember me chapter 4

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x OC

Notes: If I was giving names to these chapters this chapter would be called “Love at first snark”

Also the Starbucks scene was NOT inspired by the millions of times I was held up in line by that ONE person who takes their coffee way too seriously.

nope, not.

All words in bold are spoken in Japanese. Working with both languages is a bit tricky so I’m going to try to make this as smooth as possible. While I don't speak Japanese I love the idea of playing with words and idea of someone who can sort of speak a language and what that looks like

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

-0-0-0– Bakugou –0-0-0-

They had been in and out of the office for a few days now. After another wave of earthquakes, another group of heroes from Middle America had come to relieve the Japanese crew. So Bakugou and Kirishima were taking a few days off to rest and make their reports. There was also some press stuff as well but, like always, Kirishima was handling most of that.

He just got along better with people. Not that Bakugou really cared. He always believed his work spoke for him and didn’t need to stand around grinning like an idiot answering people’s questions about why he was so good. If they couldn’t see that they were fucking stupid.

So instead he had come back to the large glass building to file a few things and get some shit done before he went back to the hotel they were staying at.

But right now he was grabbing some coffee from the Starbucks in the lobby.

Or he would be if the fat bitch with nasty nails wouldn’t stop complaining about her drink. While his English was rusty he knew what that high pitched yappy voice meant in any language.

“Oh my god please, let’s hold up this line just a little longer you high maintenance bitch.”

Bakugou glanced in shock glancing at the girl next to him who was mumbling under her breath in Japanese. Dark brown hair pulled up in a high ponytail where her bright purple ombre was evident. She had literally just spoken the words in his brain as her eyes never left her phone.

“I’m sure she’s loving you leaning over the counter like that. How about you just grab an apron and make your fucking drink.” the girl continued her monologue in a language Bakugou realized she was using because she knew no one understood it.

Well no one but him.

Letting out a soft chuckled and the young woman jumped slightly glancing over at him as if just realizing he was standing next to her. That was when he realized who she was. The girl from the insurance meeting.

“Oh shit sorry!” she said in English and then switched quickly “I’m sorry, please forgive me.”

“She’s insufferable,” he responded shrugging letting her know that he wasn’t offended.

“ Welcome to America, we take our Starbucks more seriously than our human decency.” the girl said, rolling her eyes a small smile playing on her lips showing she was joking. Sort of.

Bakugou smirked, he had never met a woman like her before. Normally the girls he was around were sweet and polite. If they had been caught speaking like that they would have been falling over themselves to act like they were sweet innocent women. Yet this girl just owned her attitude speaking her mind without any hint of reservation. He wasn’t sure if it was an American or her thing. What had she said her name was?

“Grape?”

“That’s me! Oh, this looks amazing thank you so much!” the girl said very loudly while taking the drink, “You guys are the best here!” she added glancing at the woman as she punctuating her ‘best’. The woman didn’t respond, instead just taking her large whipped drink sipping it angrily. Winking at Bakugou the young woman waved goodbye. “Until we meet again Mr. Bakugou.” she added before disappearing down the hall toward the elevators. Bakugou watched her go.

She knew his name but he had a very strong feeling Grape was not hers.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Bakugou had showered, dressed, and been ready for 10 mins before Olive walked out in a cute blue dress, a denim jacket and the sneakers he had suggested. Bakugou instantly recognized the soft silver necklace she was wearing as one he had gotten her when she had first come to Japan as a welcome gift. The sight of it hanging from her neck laying just above the slightly deep V neck to the dress made his stomach drop as he stood talking a step toward her nodding.

“I cheated,” she blushed slightly shoving her hands into the pockets of the dress, “I looked at photos of outfits I had already worn.” Her playfulness reminded him so much of the old Olive that Bakugou had the urge to kiss her. The soft pink lipstick was so inviting. It took all his will power to pull away.

“Let’s go,” he said walking toward the door. At the sight of his owners dressed and walking toward the door, Dolemite let out a pitiful cry running toward them. “NO” Bakugo snapped at the fluffy cat pushing him away with his foot. “You are not coming.”

“Awww baby,” Olive cooed watching as Bakugou quickly pushed her out of the door while keeping the cat a bay. Once the door was closed she giggled looking up at her husband, “You’ve had some practice with that.”

“Yeah well, that shitty kitty never leaves your side.”

“I’m his Queen Bee.”

“Yeah basically.”

“Wait, you’ve have seen Dolemite? Oh god, did I show you that?” she asked her eyes getting side.

“Yes.” was his simple response.

“What else have I showed you?” she asked, glancing at him as they made their way out of the skyrise apartment complex.

“A lot. Not all good.”

This made Olive burst out laughing, “Did I make you watch Samurai Cop?”

“Yes”

“Miami connection?”

“Yes”

“Hard Ticket to Hawaii?”

“No.”

“Oh man I have failed as a wife,” she said, shaking her head sadly.

“You said I wouldn’t like it.” was his response glancing down at her as she looked around the city curiously.

“Past me was probably right. But it does have a snake in the toilet and belly button sex”

“I’ve heard.” she had told him all about the plot once over a bottle of wine during one of their early skype dates when she was still in the US. Acting out scenes, forgetting moments only to come back to them. He had just sat there no idea how to respond to this rendition but unable to really do anything about it except question his choice in women.

Olive giggled slightly and for a moment Bakugou saw it. Saw the old Olive. The one who would say something he only half understood only to have her laughing her head off. Or to see her dancing like a crazy person in the hallway to the music she could only hear in her headphones. She did silly things as if her life depended on seeing him smile. And that look she would get when he cracked a smile, it was one of his favorites.

“I’ve been to Japan before…” the words died before they even started as Olive realized what she was saying. Of course, she had been here before. She lived here.

“About two years before we met.” He said quickly knowing what she had wanted to say was a year before Eliott died but beating her to it. He was determined. Watching her laugh and joke again. He was going to get her back. He was going to become number one in her life again.

“Yes,”

“I should practice my Japanese” Olive shifted the conversation quickly.

“Yeah you should, I can’t always be around to help you with that.”

“ Hello, I’m Olive.”

“What food do you want?” he asked, trying to keep the questions simple unsure where her level was.

“Whatever you're having,” she said, looking up at him smiling. Faltering a bit but she quickly continued tiring a few other simple statements and questions him responding to them. When she didn’t know a word she would say it in English and he gave her the translation helping her use the right pronunciation.

“ Ramen !” she squealed as they walked into the place. “I’m in love with ramen!”

“I love ramen.” Bakugou corrected. You’re in love with me.

“I love ramen” she corrected herself. The owner waved at them telling them to go to their usual spot. As they sat down and the waiter came up excited to see her regulars and ask Olive about her latest book. Bakugou quickly told her that Olive wasn’t feeling good and didn’t want to talk tonight. The Waitress, while looking hurt, nodded taking his order before dashing off.

“What did you say to her?” Olive asked, leaning forward confused, “she looked upset.”

“She wanted to know about your latest book.”

“My what?”

“Your book.”

“I too would like to know what my latest book is about,” Olive said with her eyes wide, “Am I writing full time? I guess I’m not doing insurance anymore.”

“Yeah you quit when I proposed, you were making enough money off books anyway.” Bakugou shrugged, “I think you only did the insurance to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, I remember I was going to quit right before…” she paused biting her lip.

“You can say his name you know, '' Bakugou said, not making eye contact with her as he looked over a menu he knew by heart. “It’s not like I don’t know you were married before us.”

“It’s just awkward.”

“Get over it.”

Instead of getting offended, she chuckled at that nodding, “Ok fine I will, grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy, it’s just annoying that you are tiptoeing around me like I’m some fragile person.”

“True, you did blow up half a mall,” she remarked picking up her chopsticks rolling them in her fingers.

“That was the gunman, I saved a bunch of people. I’m a hero, remember.”

She nodded looking away for a moment taking in the restaurant, “We come here a lot don’t we.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, the food's ok but you are obsessed with the Gyozo and their soy sauce.”

“Well if you hate it so much we don’t have to come,” she said playfully. He rolled his eyes at her dramatics. She always did that when he made fun of her for making him do stuff.

“I don’t hate it, there are just better places.”

“So, I write…” she said changing the subject, “and you're the number one hero.”

“In the world.”

“Wait really?”

“What is that supposed to mean? Why do you look so shocked!?!”

“I’m not shocked you are number one,” Olive said flushing slightly, “I’m actually shocked… you married me.”

“I wasn’t number one when we met.”

“Oh you were number 0.” she nodded knowingly as if there was only number 1 or number 0.

“NO!” he said flushing slightly with annoyance. The journey to number one had been long and hard and Olive had been such a big part of it that he was annoyed she didn’t remember any of it. “There is no such thing as a 0”

That made her laugh, loud and hard, “I know that!” she said tears spilling from her eyes as she literally cried with laughter. Bakugou just watched her totally perplexed. It wasn’t uncommon for her to laugh like that. But after the few days they had, it felt like years. Although she was more laughing at him than with him and he wasn’t sure how to react.

“Well I don’t know how much you remember.” he shot back. Honestly, he had no idea why he had even said that. So caught up in their conversation he hadn’t been thinking. And now he just wanted to push the conversation away from poking fun at him.

“True true,” she said, wiping away a few tears. “Man so Clare wasn’t joking about you being Christian Slater.”

“I don’t know why she keeps calling me that,” Bakugou said as the food was delivered to them. Grabbing some hot sauce he quickly added more spice to his food. Olive slowly dipped her spoon into the bowl taking a sip

“You kind of look like him,” she remarked pulling her brows together in a frown, “in the eyes.” she sighed as the warm flavor hit her taste buds. Katsuki was wrong, this was the best food she had ever had. “But I meant more like celebrity status. Although number 1 is more like being married to Brad Pitt or something.”

“Whatever, don’t get all star-struck over it,” he said, taking a bite of his noodles.

“I’ll try number 1”

The conversation lulled as they ate. Besides the ramen Bakugou let Olive eat most of the Gyoza. In return, she told him how he was wrong for hating on the ramen since it was a gift from the gods above.

“I don’t hate it! I just said that it’s not as good as other places.”

After eating their full and then some they made their way back to their apartment. For a moment Bakugou forgot about what had happened as they walked in blissful content. A comfortable silence stretching across them. Glancing over at his wife he couldn't’ help but admire how beautiful she was. Her dark hair was half pulled up so that the rainbow colors were promptly shown. The multi colors falling over her shoulders of her jean jacket that was covered in band patches from concerts that she had gone too. A few they had even attended together.

Absentmindedly he brushed his fingers over the one of Baby Metal. Olive had begged him for a month to take her. It wasn’t until she threatened to go with Kirishima instead that he finally screamed that she was HIS girlfriend and that shitty hair could go screw himself.

Kirishima had still ended up coming like he did for most of their dates and Olive had even been his wingman hooking him up with some cute girl who had been visiting from China.

“Everyone is getting some tonight!” she had sang in the Uber ride home as she watched Kirishima walk down the street with his arm slung over the girl’s shoulder.

“Oh really?” Bakugou had said leaning forward, kissing her glad to finally have her alone and all to himself.

“Yes,” she had said trying to get closer but being stopped by her seatbelt.

“Well just wait until we get back,” he said his voice low as his fingers ghosted over her thigh. A rush of excitement running through him as he noticed the trail of goosebumps that followed his touch. He loved being able to do that to her body. Get those reactions out of her.

He did that, only him. Just him.

She was all his.

“We’re here,” her voice broke through his thoughts and he stood there looking at the door like it was some sort of death sentence. He wanted to go back to the street. Where they were getting along. Where she wasn’t crying over someone else.

Where she was his again.

Slowly he opened the door letting her in. Dolemite running toward them crying his annoyance at them for leaving him all alone. He could have died without them there. How could they?

“Tst” Bakugou sighed, rolling his eyes as Olive cooed, stroking the cat. Standing up she turned to him with a wide smile on her face. Her real smile, the beautiful one.

“ I had fun, ” she said slowly forming the words as she spoke, “ Thank you Katsuki. ”

“Say it again,” he said, taking a step closer. “Say my name again,”

“Katsuki?” Olive took a slight step back as he stood over her. His warmth sent filling her senses as he looked down at her. Her heart was racing, not from fear, but not really lust either. Something strange and in the middle. As if her body was at war with her mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the moment letting out a soft sigh. Then the spell was broken as he looked down at her. Her wide eyes looking up at him so unsure.

So foreign.

Kissing her forehead he pulled away, his body still only inches from hers “You’re welcome” he said his voice was so soft and warm it made her heart melt like hot lava flowing down her chest into her stomach. Olive was surprised at how she felt by a simple touch.

Her mind may have forgotten him but her body hadn’t.

-GET TAGGED!-

Master List

Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm

#bakugou katsuki x oc #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x oc #Bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki long fic #BNha fanfic #bnha x oc #bnha fluff #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugou katsuki angst #my writing #bnha long fic

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biscuit-babbles · 4 years

Note

Hi can I get a student and villain matchup please I’m a straight female who is is 5”5 has short brown hair and is pretty strong I like music,video games,arguing with dumb people,and memes I’m not friendly when we first meet I’m highly aggressive and will fight someone in seconds if they fuck with me or my friends if we are close friends then I’m extremely protective and will take a bullet for a loved one no matter what. I like staying up til 6am and being chaotic crackheads with friends thanks!

KAMINARI DENKI

While I think basically any guy in the Bakusquad could make an absolute power couple with you, I think Kaminari fits the best! Not gonna lie, it was mostly the video games and memes. At first, just like Bakugo, you scared the shit out of him. I mean, he’s not the best with handling aggression or aggressive people. Yet, as he spent more time near you, getting to know you better (even from afar if he has to), he will soon become smitten. He can’t help but be drawn to your confidence and strength, finding it attractive as all hell that you can stand your ground - and his. Though, he will try his best to give back just as much. You would make him want to be a more confident and assertive person, not being jumpy around people such as you and Bakugo anymore. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ⚡ You first became friends when he found out you liked video games, and he offered to let you play on his Nintendo Switch with him. He insisted that he would beat you at Smash Bros., but ultimately lost. That’s when he knew that he had to beat you someday. It was like a personal goal. ⚡ Though, he’s awfully scared about how eager you are to argue over every stupid thing he does. He tries to make the smartest decisions just so you won’t tease him for it, and when he inevitably fails, he tries feebly to fight back. However, in the end, he secretly likes seeing how proud you look. ⚡ However, you might have to tone it down. Kaminari can be pretty sensitive, and a couple times you might make him cry. Yet, that doesn’t seem to be much of a problem. The closer you two become, the less and less you tease him over everything. ⚡ Now, most people like music. It’s a part of culture all around the world, and so Kaminari takes that to his advantage when he learns you take especial interest in it. He listens to singing training videos and learns how to play the electric guitar just so he can play music for you. ⚡ The first time you got protective over him, he was flabbergasted. You actually stood up for him. Well, that was a first. But certainly not a last, as he would quickly learn, as you would even go toe to toe with Bakugo in petty arguments over whether Kaminari really was a dense idiot or not. ⚡ Expect him to send you memes at 3 am, ranging from cringy 2011 ones with such classics as the velociraptor and the poor nerdy kid whose yearbook photo went viral all the way to deep-fried images of sectional couches with “couch” written in big, bold, black letters. He never fails to make you laugh - intentionally or not. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Oh my fucking god, Denki Kaminari, you are so dead.” Once again, your beloved, idiotic, and quite frankly stupid boyfriend went and pissed of Bakugo. Again. This is the fifth time this school week. And it’s Tuesday. So, as per usual, you decide to step in. “OI, YOU FUCKING DUNCE, WHY IN HELL DID YOU TAKE THE LAST OF MY SPICY BENTO!?” “I swear to god, Bakubro, I didn’t know it was yours! It was left on the table when you had gotten up and-” “Why in hell are you yelling at 10 am, Bakubitch?” you butt in. Despite the crude nickname, you and Bakugo are what one could consider friends.. you think. At this point, he saw it similarly to how Midoriya would call him Kacchan. “BECAUSE YOUR STUPID DUMBASS OF A BOYFRIEND ATE MY BENTO!” the blonde raged, glaring daggers at the poor, cowering discount Pikachu. “Oh, you sweet yappy pomeranian,” you tease, feigning a baby-talk voice, “awe you angwy because you wan out of doggy treats?” Bakugo was close to exploding, his quirk beginning to go off in his palms. Recognizing the signs, you immediately grab your stupid dunce of a boyfriend and run. Almost immediately afterward, he kisses you as both a thank you and an apology. Though, you have a gut feeling the apology is that he’s gonna do it again later.

DABI

I personally think that, out of the villains, you would fit best with Dabi! I don’t know very many villains, as I’m mainly an anime viewer. But, out of the current list I know of, I’d say Dabi. Now, this edgy bastard of a man is an enigma. A mystery. But we can absolutely tell a few things; 1. he’s powerful as all hell, both in his quirk and physically. 2. While he normally seems pretty apathetic, he can get really scary and aggressive once pushed to a certain point. 3. He definitely has young adult, crackhead energy when he is in that ‘apathetic’ stage of his personality. He most likely became addicted to how you took no shit, gave no shit, and held your head high. He may not always get along with you, as no one does for anyone, but he absolutely views you as a queen that should be bowed before. God be damned if he doesn’t bow. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ♛ Unlike Kaminari, he takes no shit. If you argue with him, he’ll argue right back. At first, it wouldn’t be uncommon for Kirigiri to need to separate the two of you as you wildly go to pull each other’s hair of bite the other’s knuckle. He’s not going to take your aggression lying down. ♛ Yet, but no means is he going to actively want to hurt you. Killing is one thing, assaulting a woman for being snarky is another. If anything, he sees it as the same thing as two puppies tumbling with each other. He thinks it’s cute. ♛ Dabi would definitely show you memes. At the very beginning, it was mostly to show you that he acknowledged your existence. He didn’t quite care if you found it funny, though. Now it’s a sign of respect and endearment. He would actively send you memes he thinks you would find funny, regardless of his own taste in memes. ♛ You’ll have to rip the idea from my cold, dead hands that Dabi is an excellent singer. Deep yet smooth, and will often do it when bored out of his fucking skull. He will find a balcony or roof of some sort and sing, unknowing of a presence nearby. Every once in a while, he’ll sing your favorite song. ♛ Don’t let him anywhere near Smash Bros. He will kick your ass and then hand it back to you on a silver platter only to kick it back out of your hands. After every brutal loss, he will tauntingly say, “Aw, did the queen’s crown fall off?” ♛ As you two become closer, he starts to trail behind like a puppy. And when I say puppy, I mean hyperaggressive guard dog that will burn alive anyone who dares say a thing about your demeanor. You are a queen, and should be treated as such. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Dabi, you sent that meme twice today.” “Aaaand twice the day before that,” he chimes, his voice flat and monotone as familiar, searing blue eyes look up to meet you. “You are so fucking annoying!” you gasp exasperatedly, falling back onto the couch to stare at the ceiling. You could feel your brows crinkle as Dabi rolls his desk chair towards you like a toddler on one of those plastic scooters in elementary school. He stares at you, almost unblinkingly, for a few minutes. Dabi almost looks bored as he studies your expression closely. Just as you open your mouth to berate him once more, he grins. “If you keep making that face, it’ll stick,” he adds cheekily, “Wouldn’t want that pretty face to go to waste, huh?” You bolt upright from the couch, throw pillow in hand, as the cheeky little shit immediately runs from his chair, cackling like a mad man as you chase him. He can’t notice how hot your face had gotten, nor the rapid pace your heart had adopted. “COME BACK HERE, YOU SMELLY SHIT!”

#ask #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaminari #kaminari denki #denki kaminari #dabi #matchups #screwed matchups

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bowsie22 · 6 years

Text

Nico/Levi Collection 1

Summary: Nico’s ex-boyfriend is bought into the hospital. And of course, he is just as attractive and charming and amazing as Nico is. Levi might feel the slightest bit inferior.

Taryn slid into the seat beside Levi, ignoring his protests as she snagged some of his chips.

“Have you guys seen the model in room 264? He might actually be hotter than Nico.”

Levi scoffed, always ready to throw down for his boyfriend.

“Like anyone is hotter than Nico. Please.”

Casey shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’ve seen this guy. He is pretty hot.”

“Dahlia, you’re on my side, right?”

“Nico is pretty damn fine, but I haven’t seen this patient. We’ll need to take a look so I can make a proper judgement.”

“Lunch finishes in ten minutes and then I need to meet up with Doctor Avery. Let’s go.”

“Damn. Sorry Levi, I think you’ve lost this one.”

Levi kind of agreed. The man lying in the bed was pure American muscle, with a jawline that could cut glass and eyes you could drown in. In other words, he was gorgeous. He yelped as Dahlia pulled him around the corner.

“Dahlia, what the hell?”

“Nico is going in there. And he does not look happy. And like, not his normal not happy, where we know all he needs is to see your face, but actually not happy.”

Levi peeked around the corner, surprised to see Nico looking so, so..

“He looks angry. Dahlia, we need to hear what he’s saying.”

They crept around the corner, stopping at the vending machine across from the door, the perfect listening spot. God, even the man’s voice was like warm, melted chocolate.

“Nico, I’d hope you’d be the one to see me.”

“Yep, just my luck, huh? How did you do this to yourself Hayden?”

“I was on my morning run and I fell over some yappy little dog. Heard my wrist crack when I landed. But, bright side, I get to see your handsome face again.”

Levi was very confused. Nico had never mentioned a Hayden to him before. Who was this guy?

“You mean since you broke up with me for someone better? How’d that go by the way?”

Dahlia and Levi stared at each other, confused. Better than Nico? Who was better than Nico?

“We broke up ages ago. And then I started thinking about you. About us.”

“There is no us.”

Levi winced. He knew that voice. When he heard that voice, he knew it was time to back away and let Nico explode.

“There could be. Come on Nico. We were great together. Your family loved me, we visited museums and galleries together, visited different countries and learned their cultures. And be honest, the sex was amazing.”

Levi couldn’t listen to anymore of this. By comparison, his relationship with Nico was boring. No foreign trips, no amazing trips to museums or galleries. Just nights spent on their couch or their days off spent sleeping and doing house work. And being honest with himself, Levi knew he wasn’t even half as attractive as Nico’s ex. He couldn’t help the memories that were dredged up. High school bullies, the comments from dome family members, cruel online jabs in college. It was all too much. He moved away from the vending machine, avoiding Dahlia’s restraining hand.

“I’m going to find Doctor Avery. I’ll see you later Dahlia.”

He walked away, unaware of Nico’s concerned eyes following him from the doorway.

Nico opened the door to their apartment, the bouquet of multi coloured tulips held behind his back.

“Levi? Are you here?”

A groan from the coach answered him.

“There you are. Come on, out from under the blankets.”

Nico placed the flowers onto the coffee table and reached under the mound of blankets, searching for his boyfriend.

“Aha! Got you.”

He dragged Levi from under the blankets, pulling the smaller man onto his lap and pressing kisses to his voice, hoping to hear Levi’s adorable giggle.

“Nico, stop. I’m not in the mood.”

“I know, I saw you listening to me and Hayden. Levi, I need you to listen to me, ok?”

Levi nodded, eyes on Nico’s collarbone. The older man sighed. Placing his fingers under the other man’s chin, he lifted Levi’s face, so they were making eye contact.

“What I had with Hayden was nice. But I was a kid. A young man. All I wanted was some fun and someone attractive to have fun with. And I got that with Hayden. We were never serious.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?”

“Yes, because I want something serious with you. Levi, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t need trips to other countries or dinners at five-star restaurants. I am more than happy with a dinner on our couch, watching Nailed It or just spending the morning in bed, getting to sleep in with you in my arms. My life is better because you’re in it. Everything I do with you is amazing, because I do it with you. I love you Levi. You’re all I need.”

Levi laughed, wiping away the tears on his cheeks.

“You are such a hopeless romantic. I’m sorry Nico. I guess I saw this stupid hot guy and I felt like I wasn’t enough. I want that boring future with you as well. I love you Nico.”

They spent the rest of the night on the couch, eating left over take out and watching Shadowhunters. It wasn’t the most exciting evening, but it was their kind of perfect. And Nico, thinking of the little black box in his nightstand, hoped for many more to come.

A/N So, this pairing is my new obsession. I love when a little ball of fluffy sunshine falls for the more serious one, who turns into a big ball of sunshine around their partner. And height difference is my weakness. For Hayden, imagine anyone. Personally, I was thinking Chris Evans when I wrote him, but I left it vague on purpose.

Leave a prompt in my ask box, or in the replies! I wanna write more of this pairing, but might need some help on what to do.

#schmico #nico kim #levi schmitt

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inkyardpress · 7 years

Text

Excerpt: When It’s Real by Erin Watt

HIM

“Please tell me every girl in there is of legal age.”

“Every girl in there is of legal age,” I dutifully repeat to my manager, Jim Tolson.

Truth is, I have no clue if everyone’s legal. When I came home last night from the studio, the party was already raging. I didn’t take the time to card anyone before grabbing a beer and chatting up some eager girls who proclaimed that they were so in love with my music that they sang it in their sleep. It sounded vaguely like an invitation, but I wasn’t interested. My buddy Luke took them off my hands and then I wandered around trying to figure out if I knew even a quarter of the people in my house.

I ended up counting seven, tops, that I actually recognized.

Jim presses his already thin lips together before taking a seat in the lounger across from me. There’s a girl passed out on it, so he’s forced to perch on the end. Jim once told me that the biggest hazard of working with a young rock star is the age of his groupies. Sitting this close to a bikini-clad teenager makes him visibly edgy.

“Keep that line in mind in case TMI asks you about it on the street today,” Jim warns.

“Noted.” Also noted? Avoid any celeb hot spots today. I have zero desire to be papped.

“How was the studio last night?”

I roll my eyes. As if Jim didn’t have the studio tech on the phone immediately after I left, replaying the track. “You know exactly how it was. Crappy. Worse than crappy. I think a barking Chihuahua could lay down better vocals than me right now.”

I lean back and stroke my throat. Nothing’s wrong with my vocal cords. Jim and I got that checked out with a doctor a few months ago. But the notes that were coming out yesterday lacked...something. All my music seems flat these days.

I haven’t recorded anything decent since my last album. I can’t pinpoint the problem. It could be the lyrics or the rhythm or the melody. It’s everything and nothing, and no amount of tweaking has helped me.

I run my fingers over the six strings of my Gibson, knowing my frustration must show on my face.

“Come on, let’s walk a little.” Jim dips his head toward the girl. She looks passed out, but she could be faking it.

With a sigh, I set the guitar on the cushion and rise to my feet.

“Didn’t know you liked walks on the beach, Jim. Should we start quoting poetry to each other before you propose?” I joke. But he’s probably right about putting some distance between us and the groupie. We don’t need some yappy fan talking about my music block to the tabloids. I give them enough to talk about already.

“Did you see the latest social media numbers?” He holds his phone up.

“Is that an actual question?”

We stop at the railing on my wraparound deck. I wish we could walk down to the beach, but it’s public, and the last time I tried setting foot on the sand in the back of my house, I came away with my swim trunks torn off and a bloody nose. That was three years ago. The tabloids turned it into a story about me getting into a fight with my ex and terrorizing young children.

“You’re losing followers at a rate of a thousand a week.”

“Sounds dire.” Sounds awesome, actually. Maybe I’ll finally be able take advantage of my beachfront property.

His perfectly unlined face, courtesy of some of the best Swiss knives money can buy, is marred by irritation. “This is serious, Oakley.”

“So what? Who cares if I lose followers?”

“Do you want to be taken seriously as an artist?”

This lecture again? I’ve heard it from Jim a million frickin’ times since he signed me when I was fourteen. “You know I do.”

“Then you have to shape up,” he huffs.

“Why?” What does shaping up have to do with making great music? If anything, maybe I need to be wilder, really stretch the limits of everything in life.

But...haven’t I done that already? I feel like I’ve drunk, smoked, ingested and experienced nearly everything the world has to offer in the past five years. Am I already the washed-up pop star before I hit my twenties?

A tinge of fear scrapes down my spine at the thought.

“Because your label is on the verge of dropping you,” Jim warns.

I practically clap like a child at this news. We’ve been at odds for months. “So let them.”

“How do you think you’re going to have your next album made? The studio’s already rejected your last two attempts. You want to experiment with your sound? Use poetry as lyrics? Write about things other than heartache and pretty girls who don’t love you back?”

I stare sullenly at the water.

He grabs my arm. “Pay attention, Oak.”

I give him a what the hell are you doing look, and he lets go of my arm. We both know I don’t like being touched.

“They aren’t going to let you cut the record you want if you keep alienating your audience.”

“Exactly,” I say smugly. “So why do I care if the label drops me?”

“Because labels exist to make money, and they won’t produce your next album unless it’s one they can actually market. If you want to win another Grammy, if you want to be taken seriously by your peers, then your only chance is to rehabilitate your image. You haven’t had a record out since you were seventeen. That was two years ago. It’s like a decade in the music business.”

“Adele released at nineteen and twenty-five.”

“You aren’t fuckin’ Adele.”

“I’m bigger,” I say, and it’s not a boast. We both know it’s true.

Since I released my first album at fourteen, I’ve had unreal success. Every album has gone double platinum, with my self-titled Ford reaching the rare Diamond. That year I did thirty international tour stops, all stadium tours, all sellouts. There are fewer than ten artists in the world who do stadium tours. Everyone else is relegated to arenas, auditoriums, halls and clubs.

“Were bigger,” Jim says bluntly. “In fact, you’re on the verge of being a has-been at nineteen.”

I tense up as he voices my earlier fear.

“Congratulations, kid. Twenty years from now, you’ll be sitting in a chair on Hollywood Squares and some kid will ask their mother, ‘who’s Oakley Ford?’ and the mom will say—”

“I get it,” I say tightly.

“No. You don’t get it. Your existence will have been so fleeting that even that parent will turn to her kid and say, ‘I have no idea who that is.’” Jim’s tone turns pleading. “Look, Oak, I want you to be successful with the music you want to make, but you have to work with me. The industry is run by a bunch of old white men who are high on coke and power. They love knocking you artists around. They get off on it. Don’t give them any more reason to decide that you’re the fall guy. You’re better than that. I believe in you, but you gotta start believing in yourself, too.”

“I do believe in myself.”

Does it sound as fake to Jim’s ears as it does to mine?

“Then act like it.”

Translation? Grow up.

I reach over and take the phone from his hand. The social media number beside my name is still in the eight digits. Millions of people follow me and eat up all the ridiculous things my PR team posts daily. My shoes. My hands. Man, the hands post got over a million likes and launched an equal number of fictional stories. Those girls have very vivid imaginations. Vivid, dirty imaginations.

“So what’s your suggestion?” I mutter.

Jim sighs with relief. “I have a plan. I want you to date someone.”

“No way. We already tried the girlfriend thing.”

During the launch of Ford, management hooked me up with April Showers. Yup, that’s her real name—I saw it on her driver’s license. April was an up-and-coming reality television star and we all thought she’d know the score. A fake relationship to keep both our names on magazine covers and headlining every gossip site on the web. Yes, there’d be hate from certain corners, but the nonstop media attention and speculation would drive our visibility through the roof. Our names would be on everyone’s lips from here to China and back again.

The press strategy worked like a charm. We couldn’t sneeze without someone taking our picture. We dominated celebrity gossip for six months, and the Ford tour was a smashing success. April sat in the front row of more fashion shows than I knew actually existed and went on to sign a huge two-year modeling contract with a major agency.

Everything was great until the end of the tour. What everyone, including me, had failed to recognize was that if they threw two teenagers together and told them to act like they were in love, stuff was going to happen. Stuff did happen. The only problem? April thought stuff would continue to happen after the tour was over. When I told her it wouldn’t, she wasn’t happy—and she had a big enough platform to tell the world exactly how unhappy she was.

“This won’t be another April thing,” Jim assures me. “We want to appeal to all the girls out there who dream of walking down the red carpet but think it’s out of reach. We don’t want a model or a star. We want your fans to think you’re attainable.”

Against my better judgment, I ask, “And how do we do that?”

“We conjure up a normal. She starts posting to you on your social media accounts. Flirting with you online. People see you interact. Then you invite her to a concert. You meet, fall in love and boom. Serious heartthrob status again.”

“My fans hated April,” I remind him.

“Some did, but millions loved her. Millions more will love you if you fall for an ordinary girl, because each and every one of those girls is going to think that she’s their stand-in.”

I clench my teeth. “No.”

If Jim was trying to think up a way to torture me, this is absolutely it, because I hate social media. I grew up having my baby steps photographed and sold to the highest bidder. For charity, my mom later claimed. The public gets a ton of me. I want to keep some parts of my life private, which is why I pay a couple of people a fortune so I don’t have to touch that stuff.

“If you do this...” Jim pauses enticingly. “King will produce your album.”

My head swivels around so fast that Jim jumps back in surprise. “You serious?”

Donovan King is the best producer in the country. He’s worked on everything from rap to country to rock albums, turning artists into legends. I once read an interview where he said he’d never work with a pop star and their soulless commercial music, no matter how much anyone paid him. Working with King is a dream of mine, but he’s turned down every overture I’ve ever made.

If he wasn’t interested in producing Ford, then why this latest album? Why now?

Jim grins. Well, as much as his plastic face allows him to smile. “Yes. He said if you were serious, then he’d be interested, but he needs a show of faith.”

“And a girlfriend is that show of faith?” I ask incredulously.

“Not a girlfriend. It’s what dating a nonfamous, ordinary girl signifies. That you’re down-to-earth, making music for the sake of music, not for the sake of money and fame.”

“I am down-to-earth,” I protest.

Jim responds with a snort. He jerks his thumb at the French doors behind us. “Tell me something—what’s the name of that girl who’s passed out in there?”

I try not to cringe. “I...don’t know,” I mumble.

“That’s what I thought.” He frowns now. “Do you want to know what Nicky Novak was photographed doing last night?”

My head is starting to spin. “What the hell does Novak have to do with anything?” Nicky Novak is a sixteen-year-old pop star I’ve never even met. His boy band just released their debut album, and apparently it’s topping the charts. The group is giving 1D a run for their money.

“Ask me what Novak was doing,” Jim prompts.

“Fine. Whatever. What was Novak doing?”

“Bowling.” My manager crosses his arms over his chest. “He got papped on a bowling date with his girlfriend—some girl he’s been dating since middle school.”

“Well, good for him.” I give another eye roll. “You want me to go bowling, is that it? You think that will convince King to work with me? Seeing me roll some gutter balls?” It’s hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“I just told you what I want,” Jim grumbles. “If you want King to produce your album, you need to show him you’re serious, that you’re ready to stop partying with girls whose names you don’t know and settle down with someone who will ground you.”

“I can tell him that.”

“He needs proof.”

My gaze shifts back to the ocean, and I stand there for a moment, watching the surf crash against the beach. This album I’ve been working on these past two years—no, the one I’m trying to work on and failing—suddenly feels as if it’s actually within my reach. A producer like King could help me move past this creative block and make the kind of music I’ve always wanted.

And all I have to do in return is date a normal? I guess I can do that. I mean, every artist has to make sacrifices for his art at one point in his life.

Right?

HER

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I want,” my sister objects.

“I don’t need to. You have that look in your eye.” I pull the bacon out of the microwave and dump four slices on each plate.

“What look?” Paisley checks her reflection on the back of the spoon I used to stir the eggs.

“The one that says I’m not going to like what you have to say.” I pause as I dish up the rest of the twins’ breakfast. “Or that I’m too young to understand.”

“Ha. Everyone knows you’re more together than most adults. I wish you were more impulsive, actually. It’d make this easier.”

“Breakfast is ready!” I shout.

The clatter of shoes on the staircase makes Paisley sigh. Our little brothers are incredibly loud, eat an incredible amount of food and are getting incredibly expensive. All I can say is, thank goodness for Paisley’s new job. We’re barely keeping our heads above water, even though Paisley has performed miracles with what little insurance money our parents left us. I’m adding to the family account with my waitressing job at Sharkey’s, but we don’t have much extra left over. Spencer and Shane insist that we don’t need to worry about college tuition for them because they plan on full-ride athletic scholarships. But unless it’s for competitive eating, I’m not going to count on it.

As the twins practically fall face-first into their breakfast, Paisley pours their milk and shoves a paper towel next to their plates. Hopefully they’ll use it instead of the kitchen towel. Again, I’m not holding my breath.

I drink my coffee-infused milk, watching my twelve-year-old brothers inhale the first of what will likely be their six meals of the day. As they grumble about the shortness of Christmas break, I think about how glorious it is that I haven’t had one class this year, unlike them.

“Vaughn,” Paisley says urgently. “I still need to talk to you.”

“I already told you no.”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, fine. Talk.”

“Outside.” She jerks her head toward the back door.

“We’re not listening,” says Spencer.

Shane nods in agreement because that’s their shtick. Spencer talks and Shane backs up everything his brother says, even if he disagrees.

“Outside.” Paisley’s head jerk looks painful this time, so I take pity on her.

“Lead the way.”

The screen door slams shut behind us. I take another sip of my rapidly cooling drink as I watch Paisley search for words, which is worrisome because Paisley is never at a loss for words.

“Okay, so I want you to hear me out. Don’t say anything until the very end.”

“Did you drink one too many Red Bulls this morning?” I ask. We both know Paisley kind of has a caffeine addiction.

“Vaughn!”

“Okay. Okay.” I zip my lips shut. “Not another word.”

She rolls her eyes. “You do the lip-zipping after the last word, not before.”

“Details, shmetails. Now talk. I promise not to interrupt.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay, so you know how they finally gave me my own cubicle, so I don’t have to share with that other assistant anymore?”

I nod. “They” are her bosses at Diamond Talent Management. Paisley’s official job title is Brand Coverage Assistant, but technically she’s a glorified gofer—she goes on coffee runs, makes a zillion photocopies and spends an insane amount of time scheduling meetings. I swear, the people she works for hold more meetings than the UN.

“Well, my cube has this little bulletin board on the wall. I’m allowed to put up pictures, so yesterday I brought in a few photos. You know, like the one of Mom and Dad that we love, where they’re kissing on the boardwalk? And one of the twins at baseball camp. And then I put up the one I took of you at the beach bonfire we had for your birthday last month.”

I have to fight the urge not to make a waving motion with my hand to tell her to speed up. Paisley takes forever to get to the point.

“Anyway, so get this! Jim Tolson is walking by my cube—”

“Who’s Jim Tolson?” I ask, breaking my vow of silence.

“He’s my boss’s brother. He manages some of the biggest musicians in the world.” Paisley is so excited her cheeks are flushed. “So he’s walking by, and he sees the picture of you on my bulletin board and asks if he could borrow it for a minute—”

“Ew! I do not like where this story is going.”

She shoots me a dirty look. “I’m not done. You promised to be quiet until I was done.”

I swallow a sigh. “Sorry.”

“So I’m, like, sure, go ahead, but just make sure to bring it back because that’s my favorite picture of my little sister. So he takes the photo and disappears into his brother’s office for a while. He’s got all these assistants in there and they’re all talking about your picture—”

Okay, now I really don’t like where this is heading.

“Something major is going down at the agency,” Paisley adds. “I have no idea what, because I’m a lowly assistant, but Mr. Tolson has been in and out, arguing with his brother all week, and they keep having these secret meetings in the conference room.”

I swear, if she doesn’t get to the point soon, I’m going to lose my mind.

“So at the end of the day, my boss—Leo—calls me into Jim’s office and they start asking me all these questions about you.” She must see my worried look, because she’s quick to reassure me. “Nothing too personal. Jim wanted to know how old you are, what your interests are, if you’ve ever been in trouble with the law—”

“Um, what?”

Paisley huffs in annoyance. “He just wants to make sure you’re not a criminal.”

Forget this vow of silence. I’m too confused to stick to it. “Why does this agent—”

“Manager,” she corrects.

“Manager...” I roll my eyes. “Why does this manager care so much about me? And you said he manages musicians—is he trying to sign me as a client or something? You told him I can’t carry a tune, right?”

“Oh, totally. That was one of his questions, if you had any ‘musical aspirations.’” She air-quotes that. “He was pretty happy when I told him you’re (a) not musical and (b) interested in becoming a teacher.”

“Is it a matchmaking thing then? Because, gross. How old is this dude?” I ask skeptically.

She waves a hand. “In his thirties, I think. And that’s not it.”

“Is there an it? Because I’m beginning to wonder.”

Paisley pauses for a beat. Then she blurts out her next words in one breath. “They want you to pretend to be Oakley Ford’s girlfriend this year.”

I spray the concrete steps with lukewarm coffee mixed with spit. “What?”

“I promise you it isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

She runs a hand through her ordinarily perfectly styled black bob, and I notice for the first time that her hair is sticking up on the sides. Paisley’s usually so polished, from the top of her shiny head to the tips of the flats that she buffs every night.

“Mr. Tolson thinks you’re perfect for the job,” she tells me. “He said you’re pretty but not in an over-the-top way. More like a natural, girl-next-door type. I described you as down-to-earth, and he thinks that will complement Oakley, because Oakley can be really intense sometimes—”

“Okay, let’s back up,” I cut in. “Are you talking about Oakley Ford, pop icon? Oakley Ford, the guy with so many girls’ names tattooed on his body he’s like a phone directory of former Victoria’s Secret models? Oakley Ford, who tried to depants a monk in Angkor Wat and nearly caused an international incident? That Oakley Ford?”

“Yeah, him.” She scrunches up her nose. “And he’s only got one tattoo of a woman’s name and it’s his mom’s.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did he tell you that or did you make a personal inspection?”

Oakley’s nineteen and Paisley’s twenty-three, so I guess it could happen, but that’s kinda disgusting. Not because he’s younger, but because Paisley’s too awesome to be some celebrejerk’s castoff.

“Ew, Vaughn.”

“Look, if you’re serious, the answer is still no. In fact, there are so many reasons for me to say no that I don’t know if we have time for me to list them all. But here’s one—I don’t even like Oakley Ford.”

“You played his album on repeat for, like, three months.”

“When I was fifteen!” Oakley Ford was a phase. Like BFF necklaces and Hannah Montana. Plus, his antics got really unappealing. After the tenth or so picture of him making out with some random girl at a club, he got kind of slimy in my eyes.

Paisley runs her hand through her hair again. “I know this is your year off. And I want you to have that, I swear. But this thing isn’t going to take up very much of your time. An hour or two maybe every other day. A couple nights. A couple weekends. It’s the same as if you were waiting tables at Sharkey’s.”

“Um, aren’t you forgetting something?”

She blinks. “What?”

“I have a boyfriend!”

“W?”

“Yes, W.” For some reason, Paisley hates W. She says his name is stupid and that he’s stupid, but I love him anyway. William Wilkerson isn’t the greatest name to be saddled with, but that’s not his fault. It’s also why we call him W. “There have to be dozens of girls who want to pretend-date Oakley Ford. And why does he need a fake girlfriend anyway? He could probably walk down to the Four Seasons on Wilshire, point to the first girl that drove by and have her in a hotel room in five seconds flat.”

“That’s the whole problem.” She throws up her arms. “They tried the whole fake girlfriend thing with him before, but she fell for him and he broke her heart. I think half of the bad publicity the guy gets is because of her.”

“Are you talking about April Showers?” I gasp. “That was fake? Oh, man, I believed in ShOak. My childhood dreams are crushed.” I’m only half-kidding. Fifteen was a tough year for me, and not just because it was the year my parents died.

Paisley punches me in the shoulder. “You just said you didn’t like him.”

“Well, not after he cheated on April with that Brazilian swimsuit model.” I chew on the corner of my lip. “Fake, really?”

“Really.”

Hmmm. I might have to rethink my opinion of Oakley. Still, doesn’t mean I want to be the next fake girlfriend to be fake dumped and fake cheated on.

“So you’ll do it?”

I stare at her. “I make a couple hundred a night at Sharkey’s. You said before Christmas we were doing fine.” I narrow my eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Last year I found Paisley crying at the dinner table at two in the morning. She admitted that Mom and Dad didn’t leave us in the greatest financial position. The insurance money kept us afloat at the beginning, but last summer she’d had to get a second mortgage to cover all the bills, and she was thinking of leaving college to get a job. Appalled, I sat down and made her go over everything with me, because she was a year away from graduating. I got my diploma early by taking summer courses, online ones to supplement my high school studies, and special permission from the school to take advanced classes. And then I found a job. Serving steak and iceberg lettuce wedges isn’t fancy, but it pays the bills.

Or so I thought.

“No. We’re fine. I mean...” She trails off.

“Then my answer is no.” I’ve never been interested in the other side of LA. It seems so artificial, and I do enough pretending as it is.

I have my hand on the screen door when Paisley drops her next bomb. “They’ll pay you twenty thousand a month.”

I spin around slowly, my mouth hanging open. “Are you effing kidding me?”

“Don’t swear,” she says automatically, but her eyes are bright with excitement. “And that’s for a full year of commitment.”

“That would...”

“Put the boys through college? Pay off both our mortgages? Make everything easier for us? Yes.”

I blow my overgrown bangs out of my face. This proposition is insane. I mean, who pays such an obscene amount of money to some random girl to pretend to be a pop star’s girlfriend for a year? Maybe that’s normal in the entertainment industry, but I grew up with parents who were elementary school teachers.

I suddenly wonder what Mom and Dad would say if they were alive to hear this crazy offer. Would they encourage me to do it, or tell me to run, run for my life? I honestly don’t know. They were all about exploring new opportunities, taking the road less traveled. It was one of my favorite things about them, and I miss my fun-loving, impulsive parents. I miss them a lot.

That said, their love of spontaneity is part of the reason why we’re hurting for money.

“An opportunity like this doesn’t come along every day, but you don’t have to say yes,” Paisley assures me. Her words say one thing; her strained tone says another.

“How long do I have to think about it?”

“Jim Tolson wants an answer tomorrow morning. And if it’s a yes, he wants you to come to the agency to meet with him and Oakley.”

Oakley. Oakley frickin’ Ford.

This is...nuts.

“Fine, I’ll think about it.” I let out a breath. “You’ll have my answer in the morning.”

Twenty thousand dollars a month, Vaughn...

Yeah. I’m pretty sure we both know what my answer is going to be.

HER

I said yes.

Because (1) It’s a lot of money. And (2) It’s a lot of money.

Guess that makes me a kinda sorta gold digger? I’m not sure if my situation fits the exact definition, but I can’t deny I feel like one as I follow Paisley into the elevator the next morning.

Diamond Talent Management is an entire building. Not just a couple of floors, but an entire glass-covered, needs-an-elevator-and-a-security-team building. The scowly but hot guards with the earpieces give me the willies, but Paisley walks by them with a wave. I copy the motion. I kind of wish I hadn’t had that second cup of coffee this morning. It’s sloshing around in my stomach like a tidal wave.

The elevators are a shiny brass, and there’s a guy in a suit whose only job appears to be spraying them constantly with cleaner and wiping them down. He’s got a jaw that would look good on the side of a mountain and a butt tight enough to rival any football player’s.

Paisley gets off on the sixth floor, which is emblazoned with Music Division in big gold letters on a dark wood backdrop. The receptionist is more beautiful than half the actresses on the tabloid covers. I try not to gawk at her perfectly outlined lips and wicked winged eyeliner.

“You’re staring,” Paisley mumbles under her breath as we pass the reception desk.

“I can’t help it. Does Diamond only hire people who could star in their own movies?”

“Looks aren’t everything,” she says airily, but I don’t believe her because clearly Diamond requires photo applications. Gotta be beautiful to work in show biz, I guess, even if you’re behind the scenes.

We’re ushered into a huge conference room, where I stop in my tracks. It’s full of people. At least ten of them.

I quickly scan the table, but I don’t recognize anyone, and the one person I would recognize—and who this meeting is about—isn’t even there.

A tall man with dark hair and plastic skin stands up from the head of the table. “Good morning, Vaughn. I’m Jim Tolson, Oakley’s manager. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I awkwardly shake the hand he extends. “Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Tolson.”

“Please, call me Jim. Have a seat. You, too, Paisley.”

As my sister and I settle in the chairs closest to his, he goes around and makes a bunch of introductions I can hardly keep up with.

“This is Claudia Hamilton, Oakley’s publicist, and her team.” He gestures to a redhead with huge boobs, then at the three people—two men and a woman—flanking her. Next, his hand moves toward three stone-faced men on the other side of the table. “Nigel Bahri and his associates. Oakley’s lawyers.”

Lawyers? I cast a panicky look at Paisley, who squeezes my hand under the table.

“And finally, this is my assistant Nina—” he nods at the petite blonde to his right “—and her assistants. Greg—” a nod to the African-American guy to his left “—and Max.” A nod to the slightly overweight guy next to Greg.

Jeez. His assistant has assistants?

Once the introductions are out of the way, Jim wastes no time getting down to business. “So, your sister has already provided you with some details about this arrangement, but before I tell you more, I have some questions for you.”

“Um. Okay. Hit me.” My voice sounds unusually loud in this massive conference room. The echo feels endless.

“Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself?” he suggests.

I’m not sure what he wants me to say. Does he expect me to recite my life story? Well, I was born in California. I live in El Segundo. My parents died in a car accident when I was fifteen.

Or maybe he wants trivia-type stuff? My favorite color is green. I’m scared of butterflies. I hate cats.

My confusion must show on my face, because Jim gives me a few prompts. “What are your interests? What do you aspire to do after high school?”

“Oh, I’m done with high school already,” I admit.

I don’t miss the way Paisley’s lips curl slightly at the reminder of W. Ugh. One of these days she’s going to have to suck it up and accept that I’m in love with the guy.

“Yeah, I have a boyfriend,” I reply awkwardly. “And actually, my Twitter and Instagram have lots of pictures of the two of us.”

Jim turns to Claudia, who falls silent. I can see the wheels in her bouncy head turning and turning.

“You’ll announce a breakup on your social media,” she decides. “We’ll spend two—no, three, weeks focusing on the split. First will be your despondent post announcing the end of the relationship, then we’ll document your grieving process, how you’re so upset and—”

“Listening to Oakley Ford’s albums on repeat,” one of the assistants finishes animatedly.

Claudia’s eyes light up. “Yes!” She claps her hands together. “Oakley’s music pulls you from the dark abyss of heartache.”

I almost gag.

“And that’s what inspires you to draw his face, which leads to our social media meet-cute.” She glances at Jim. “It still works.”

He looks pleased. “All right. What about Vaughn’s appearance? How do we feel about that?”

Everyone at the table swings their heads toward me. Their gazes pierce me, assessing me like I’m a specimen under a microscope. My cheeks heat up, and Paisley squeezes my hand again.

All of a sudden, the critiques start pouring in.

“The bangs are too long,” Claudia chirps. “We’ll trim them.”

“Hair itself needs a trim, too. And that shade of brown looks too fake.”

“It’s my real hair color!” I protest, but nobody’s listening to me.

“The honey-brown eyes are nice. I like the gold flecks. We’ll forgo colored contacts.”

“Shirt’s a little too baggy. Are your shirts always this baggy, Vaughn?”

“Isn’t normal what we are going for?” someone disagrees. “If we make her pretty, then the fans won’t be able to relate.”

I have never been more humiliated in my life.

“Oh, one last thing,” Claudia says suddenly. “Are you a virgin?”

Scratch that—it’s possible to be more embarrassed. There are a few coughs from other people at the table. Jim pretends the traffic in the hallway outside the room is fascinating, while the lawyers all stare stone-faced down the length of the table.

“Do I have to answer that?” I cast a dark look at my sister, who shakes her head.

“That can’t be important,” Paisley says to the man who’s more or less her boss.

Jim ignores her. Clearly this question is one he wants the answer to, as well.

I want to hug her for standing up for me. I’m pretty sure my cheeks are officially as red as Claudia’s hair.

“If you’re worried there’s some sort of sex scandal in Vaughn’s past, don’t be,” my sister assures the table. “Vaughn is the definition of good girl.”

I don’t know why, but Paisley’s view of me kind of stings. I mean, I know I’m not Miss Badass, but I’m not a Goody Two-shoes, either.

Claudia shrugs. “We’ll do a thorough background check, nonetheless.”

Background check? My sex status shows up in someone’s report? I’m about to burst in outrage when Jim steps in.

“All right, I think we can all agree that this arrangement shows promise.” He clasps both hands together and glances at the lawyer section of the table. “Nigel, why don’t you and the boys draft a rough contract and jot down any negotiation points you anticipate? Oakley will be here in an hour, so we can get into the finer details then.”

I frown. We’re all just supposed to wait around for an hour until His Majesty gets here? And now that I think about it, do I need a lawyer? I whisper the question to Paisley, who voices the question to her boss.

“The contract will be very straightforward,” Jim assures us. “Basically, it will state that you’ve agreed to enter into a service contract and that should you, at any time, no longer be able to perform your duties, the contract can be terminated. Any goods or monies received up to that time are yours to keep.”

I bite my lip. This is starting to feel exceptionally complicated. But I guess when twenty thousand dollars—a month!—is involved, I should have expected complicated.

“How about this?” Jim suggests. “Why don’t we sit down with Oakley and go over the contract details? Then you can read the agreement Nigel’s firm drafts, and then you can decide where we go from there.”

“Okay,” I answer, because that sounds very reasonable despite the ridiculousness of the situation.

Next to me, Paisley winks and gives me a not-very-subtle thumbs-up of encouragement. I shoot her a wan smile in return.

If I just remember why I’m doing this—so my brothers can go to college, so Paisley can stop worrying about how we’re going to pay the bills... If I can just keep focusing on all that, then maybe I’ll stop feeling like I’m going to throw up.

HER

I’m hungry and my stomach’s been announcing that fact for the last thirty minutes. Still, no one suggests we take a break for lunch, even though it’s close to noon and Oakley Ford still hasn’t appeared. It’s been two hours. Jim and the lawyers have left the room, but everyone else is glued to their chairs.

“Here’s a granola bar. And a Coke.” Paisley sets the snacks on the table in front of me.

“No wonder you like working here,” I joke. “The free lunches are so fancy.”

But since I’m starving, I shove half the bar in my mouth—at the exact same moment that Oakley Ford throws open the door.

Two burly guys with arms like tree trunks follow him inside. One plants himself next to the entrance while the other trails behind the singer. I barely notice Jim and the lawyers entering and closing the door, because I’m too busy staring at Oakley.

He’s taller than I thought he’d be. Everyone in Hollywood is short. Zac Efron is barely taller than my five-six. Same with Daniel Radcliffe. At six-four, Ansel Elgort is a veritable giant. Oakley looks to be Elgort-size, but with way more muscles.

He’s even hotter in person. It’s not the sandy-blond hair spiked up in the front and cut short in the back. Or his moss-green eyes. Or his chiseled jaw. He actually has an aura. You hear of things like that, but until you’ve experienced it in person, you don’t believe it exists.

But he has it.

Everyone in the room is responding. People are sitting up and straightening their clothes. I dimly register Paisley smoothing her perfect hair into place.

And I can’t look away.

Oakley’s jeans are low enough that the brand of underwear he’s wearing is visible as he reaches across the sideboard to grab a bottle of water. His arm muscles are defined enough to be noticeable, and I watch in fascination as the right biceps flexes when he twists the bottle cap off. Those muscles remind me of the shirtless spread he did for Vogue a couple of months ago. It was all over the web because the editorial spread had one shot of him in underwear only, and the size of his crotch got everyone speculating whether he stuffed a sock down his shorts.

I forget I’m eating my granola bar. I forget that I’m sitting at a table with a bunch of lawyers. I forget my own name.

“Sorry. Traffic,” he says before settling in the seat at the very end of the table. The bodyguard stands at his shoulder.

I find myself nodding, because LA does have horrible traffic. Of course this beautiful god wouldn’t make us mere mortals wait for him because he was doing something—is his hair wet? Did he just shower? Is it getting hot in the conference room?

This is Oakley Ford and I did listen to his album on repeat when I was fifteen. And fine, I might have harbored a teeny-tiny crush on him, which was why I was so upset when he cheated on his girlfriend. His fake girlfriend.

Which I’m going to be.

Fake.

I don’t like fake, but I’m good at it. Faking things, that is.

Paisley nudges me.

“What?” Then I realize I still have the stupid granola bar hanging out of my mouth.

A quick scan of the room reveals that everyone has noticed this. Claudia wears a worried expression. Jim is resigned. I don’t want to look at Oakley, but I do anyway. His face shows a cross between horror and fascination. The glance he throws his manager definitely says You’ve got to be kidding.

The only thing to do is act like I don’t care. I bite off the bar and start chewing. The health bar, never an appealing item to begin with, tastes like cardboard. Everyone watches me, and I chew even slower. Then I take a big swallow of Coke before wiping my mouth with the napkin that Paisley miraculously produces. I’m certain I’m redder than the receptionist’s lipstick, but I pretend that it’s no big deal. See how good I am at acting like everything is perfect?

“So this is her?” Oakley waves a hand in my general direction. I’ve heard him speak in interviews before, but his voice sounds even better in person. Deep and raspy and hypnotizing.

Jim hesitates and then looks down at his phone. Whatever he sees there stiffens his resolve. He sets the phone down. “Oakley Ford, this is Vaughn Bennett. Vaughn, Oakley.”

I start to rise and hold out my hand, but stop halfway out of my seat when Oakley leans back and clasps his hands behind his head.

Okay then.

Suddenly all my nervousness and embarrassment drain away. Relief settles in their place. I take another sip of my Coke. Surprise, surprise—Mr. Famous is a total jerk.

For a moment there, I felt like I was in danger of being sucked in by his magnetism. That I’d forget W, the money, April Showers, Brazilian supermodels and become caught up in his force field. But a guy who mocks me because I had the nerve to eat a granola bar while we all waited on his late ass? Who doesn’t have the courtesy to shake my hand?

There’s no way I’d ever fall for a guy like that.

I sneak a look at Paisley, who’s smiling slightly. She must have had the same concerns.

“So are we going to talk about terms? Like, what are my work hours?” I ask coolly, cradling the pop can between my hands.

“Work hours?” Claudia echoes, a tiny furrow appearing on her forehead.

“Yeah, since this is my job.”

She titters. “Not a job, more like a...”

“Role?” one of her assistants offers.

“Yes. A role in a long, romantic movie. And you’re the two leads.”

I feel actual bile rise up in my throat.

Oakley grumbles with impatience. “Let’s get on with it.”

Quickly, Claudia outlines our meet-cute with the drawing and the Twitter stuff. When she’s finished, Oakley yawns.

“Sure. Whatever. You’re going to handle it, right?”

“Well, not me, but Amy here will.” Claudia tips her head to the raven-haired woman on her right.

Amy holds up her phone in acknowledgment.

“Great.” He slaps his hands down on the table. “Then we’re done?”

Seriously? I waited over two hours and got only a granola bar and an extra serving of humiliation for this five-minute demonstration of how Oakley Ford isn’t even going to participate in this charade? Instead, I’ll be fake flirting with the assistant of one of his media people.

I turn to Paisley, who gives me a small, rueful shrug.

“No. We’re not done,” Jim barks from the other end of the table. The two of them exchange glares, but whatever power Jim holds over Oakley, it’s enough to get the young star to resettle into his chair.

“Let’s hear the rest of it.” He makes a tired gesture toward Claudia.

She picks up her notepad. “We’ll need the first date. We don’t think you should have any physical contact until after the third—” she looks at her assistants and then at Jim “—fourth date? I mean, we’re trying to sell this as a wholesome romance.”

Everyone starts throwing ideas out about when and how the touching will happen. Someone says he should kiss me on the forehead. Another suggests a hand on the small of my back. There’s another vote for hand-holding.

I’m still struggling with the concept of any touching when Paisley, the traitor, asks, “When did you and W start holding hands?”

Before I can answer, Oakley jumps in, snickering softly. “You dated a guy named W?”

“So what?” Wow. His first words to me are to make fun of my boyfriend’s name? It’s like Oakley’s trying to get me to dislike him.

“Sounds like a pretentious asshat.” He leans back in his leather chair and folds his arms across his chest. The action makes his biceps flex again.

I drag my eyes away. “Okay, Mr. I-Name-All-My-Albums-After-Me Ford.”

Someone at the end of the table gasps at my audacity, but Oakley’s unfazed by my insult. “Even Madonna has a full collection of letters in her name.”

“W is not pretentious.”

“If you say so.” He smirks.

“I do. He’s awesome. And sweet.”

“So why’d you break up with him?”

“I didn’t,” I say indignantly.

His brow creases. “So he broke up with you?” He sounds...confused. Like that doesn’t make sense to him.

“He hasn’t!”

Oakley shifts to Claudia. “So my down-to-earth, wholesome, normal girlfriend is a cheater?” He raises his eyebrows. “That’s gonna go over well.”

“Oh, you mean the fake breakup,” I say. For a minute there, I’d forgotten.

He looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but refrains.

“He’ll break up with her tomorrow. The sooner, the better. We’ll give it approximately two weeks after the breakup, and then she’ll Tweet you the drawing. Then there’ll be a series of dates, but no touching.” Claudia turns to me. “When did you have your first kiss?”

“Ever?” I realize it’s a stupid question, but my mind is stuck on the breaking up with W bit. I haven’t thought this whole thing through. I’ve been so focused on the money and how we’d be able to pay off the mortgage, pay for the twins’ college, allow Paisley to sleep better at night, that I hadn’t given any thought to the actual details of how this whole thing was going to work.

“Yeah, ever,” Oakley says, and this time he does roll his eyes.

These personal questions suck. “When was yours?” I counter, still focused on the W issue. Lately, he’s been pulling away. He says it’s my fault that I don’t act like an adult about our relationship because I’m still refusing to have sex with him.

“With tongue? I think I was eleven. It was with Donna Foster, the daughter of my dad’s side chick.”

My eyes grow wide. He French-kissed at eleven? I still thought boys had cooties at that age. Oakley would probably pee with laughter if he knew I was a virgin.

“You?” he prompts.

“Um...” Jeez, now I’m even more embarrassed, but for another reason. “Sixteen,” I mumble.

“How sweet. Just like the saying.”

I curl my fingers into fists. If Claudia’s team wasn’t sitting between the two of us, I might’ve reached over and smacked his smug smile off his smug face.

Paisley grips my hand, an unspoken gesture for me to get it together.

Even Claudia must sense that my patience is coming to an end. Hurriedly, she says, “Let’s do hand-holding on the third date and then a kiss on the fourth date. We’ll keep the first couple of dates under wraps, but leak the later ones to the paps.”

“Hold up, we’re going to kiss? I have a boyfriend,” I remind the room. “No one said there’d be kissing.”

“We’re gonna have a year-long relationship and we don’t kiss? Why don’t we just announce that it’s fake from the beginning?” Oakley mocks.

“But...but...” Yeah, I definitely didn’t think this through. I quickly turn to Paisley for help.

She grimaces. “They’re right. No one is going to believe that you and Oakley haven’t kissed. Not if you’re serious.” Her tone is apologetic, but her words don’t provide me any relief.

“You don’t expect me to...” I trail off, not able to bring myself to say the words out loud.

“Of course not,” Jim interjects briskly. “We’re not that kind of agency.”

He tries to play it off as a joke, but, um, they kind of are. They’re hiring this guy a girlfriend and they expect us to kiss.

How am I going to explain this to W? Sorry, babe, not willing to have sex with you yet, but I’m going to kiss another guy. In public.

That will go over well.

Claudia leans forward. “This is no different than if you were acting on a television show. Remember, you’re playing a part in a big love story.”

Her assurance doesn’t help, either. I may not know what I want in life. I may just be telling everyone I want to be a teacher because that’s easier than admitting I’m clueless about my future and that I’d rather hide as a waitress for the next five years. But I do know that the entertainment industry doesn’t interest me.

Paisley squeezes my hand again, probably to remind me why I’m doing this. By playing the role of a girlfriend, I get to lift the burden off my big sister’s shoulders and provide for my brothers. It’s not like I’m signing my entire life over. It’s just one year.

“What do I need to do?” I ask, feeling resigned.

“Just a few kisses, some hand-holding. It’s nothing, really.” Claudia waves her hand airily. “And it doesn’t need to be in the contract other than some general terms about physical contact when necessary.”

“Does any of this need to be in the contract?” Oakley sounds annoyed.

“I agree. If this ever got out, it would be terrible for Oak’s image,” Jim points out.

“The terms need to be specific so that the girl can be held to them,” one of the suits replies. Then he and Jim engage in some furious whispering until the lawyer presses his lips together in unhappy surrender. “Fine, it can be general, then. A general contract of employment.”

Once that’s decided, Claudia returns to her list. I wonder how long it is. I glance at the big white clock on the wall. It’s going on three hours and I’m exhausted.

“Let’s talk about her look again.”

“I’m not changing my look,” I mutter. “I like my look.”

I like my comfy skinny jeans, assortment of colorful T-shirts and the Vans that W and I doodled on during morning advisory last spring. The sneakers are filled with details marking our favorite dates. There’s a wizard’s wand along the left sole because we’re both Harry Potter fans. Then there’s the light post to signify the Urban Light display on Wilshire, where W kissed me for the first time. Where there was definitely tongue. His initials are on the back of one shoe and mine are on the other. He has a pair of them, too, but he doesn’t wear his. He says he doesn’t want to ruin them.

“You have a look?” Oakley raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, and it’s better than yours,” I retort, tired of his attitude. “Would it kill you to wear pants that actually fit around your waist? No one wants to see your underwear.”

“Baby, everyone wants to see my underwear. I get paid a hundred grand per pap pic.”

“Baby?” I scoff.

He leans forward, threading his surprisingly elegant fingers together. “Don’t like that one? Pick another, then. You’re my girlfriend,” he reminds me mockingly.

“So you’re into infants?”

“What?” He rears back. “No. Fine. How about—” he pretends to think and then snaps his fingers “—old lady?”

“Great.” I give him my fakest smile. “I’ll call you...dick cheese.”

“Vaughn, gross,” my sister interjects.

Oakley covers his mouth. I swear I see a smile. I wait for his response and I’m not disappointed. “I have no problem with that, crabby patty.”

“All right, that’s enough of that. None of this needs to be in the contract.” Oakley’s lawyer rattles his papers in agitation.

I turn back to Claudia. I’ve given in on the kissing. On the dates. On this made-for-the-media breakup with my boyfriend, but no way am I going to let them change my look. I’ve got to fight for something. “I thought you wanted a normal girl. I’m a normal girl. This is what some normal girls wear.”

When Claudia and Jim exchange a glance, I know I’ve won this one. They agree to keep my look...for now.

“But when we take pictures, at least let us do your makeup. You’ll want us to,” Claudia promises.

Um. That doesn’t sound ominous or anything.

The negotiation goes on. When will our first official picture be released? Where will the dates take place? Will I go to an awards show with him? How about fashion week in New York? How often should I be seen with him? Every day? Every other day?

Oh, and I would not get Oakley’s phone number. Like I care.

But I still find it weird, because what nineteen-year-old isn’t allowed to give his number to his own girlfriend? And how does he communicate with his friends? Wait—does he even have friends? Or are they all fake like me?

I peer at him from underneath my lashes and feel a pang of sympathy. Oh, brother. Am I actually starting to feel sorry for him? I think I might be.

But then my stomach growls and reminds me that we’re still mad. And unfed.

“You’ll text Amy or me if you want to get ahold of Oakley,” Claudia says.

“I feel like I need my own people. My people can text your people,” I joke.

No one laughs. Instead, Claudia looks like she’s seriously considering it, but then decides against it. “No, I think two nonteens Tweeting each other and commenting on Instagram would appear too contrived. And your voice, we want to preserve that. Whereas Amy has been running Oak’s page for a couple of years now.”

I have a voice?

“Whatever.” I’m exhausted and hungry. One granola bar wasn’t enough, and my stomach rumbles again to alert everyone to that fact.

“Is the granola bar all you’ve had today?” Oakley asks.

A burst of surprise jolts me. Out of all the people in this room, Oakley’s the one to ask? “I had breakfast, but I like to eat like a normal person.”

A faint smile touches his lips. “Jim, we need to eat.”

“Oh, sure.” Jim turns to Paisley. “Run and get us one of everything from the café across the street.”

I see a chance for fresh air and an escape. “I’ll go, too.” Not to mention that I don’t want to be here without Paisley.

“Oh, no, we’ll need you here,” Jim objects.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur to my sister. She doesn’t need to wait on me.

Paisley laughs. “It’s my job, silly. I’ll be right back.”

She trots out like she’s glad to be out of there, while I watch her exit and wish I could go with her.

On the other side of the table, Oakley leans back, crosses his arms again and looks smug, like he cured world hunger. “Well?” he prompts.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to thank me?”

“Why? Paisley’s the one getting the food.”

“You wouldn’t be having lunch without me.”

I point to the clock. “I’ve been sitting in this conference room for five hours. Prisoners in maximum security receive better treatment. If it weren’t for you, I’d be lying on the beach rereading The Handmaid’s Tale and I would have eaten something. But sure, thank you for alerting your manager to send my sister to get me food.”

He doesn’t like my smart-ass response. “It’s too cold for the beach.”

“I never said I was going to swim.” I speak in the same tone I use when I tell my little brothers they’re acting like immature idiots.

“Why are you at the beach, then?”

I gape at him. “Why does anyone go to the beach? Because it’s awesome.”

“If you say so,” he responds, but the smugness he’s previously displayed is dialed down a watt as if my reasons for liking the beach are important...or even interesting. Or he might be confused about why I’d choose to go there rather than sit five feet away from his holy presence.

But I’m not going to tell him.

Instead, I drain the rest of my Coke, slam it on the table with more force than necessary and then sit back and refuse to say another word.

Is it childish?

Oh, yeah.

But it feels really, really good.

#When It's Real #erin watt #book excerpts #ya book #ya reads

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katyinthemiddle · 7 years

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Realizations and Mishaps from My Adulthood: When In Doubt, Be an X-Men!

I’ve always had 2 very unique “gifts” in life:

1.) The ability to be the flypaper to the weirdos of the world. It is one of those wild mysteries of life. Some people have chronic headaches with no source and I have the ability to attract creeps with a 35 year old mullet who believe they were abducted by aliens in ‘88. Not only do these freakin’ crazies FIND me within a 20 mile radius, but they TALK. And they will tell me things no normal human being would tell anyone after knowing them for less than 30 seconds

I guess I just have one of those faces.

2.) The ability to have my personality as my biggest form of self-defense. I use to live alone in a cute house near Cleveland, Ohio. I would come home from work and run a mile or 2 around the block. At first, my parents were concerned about me going out by myself. Would someone try to grab me while I was out running? Would someone break into my house and hold me captive? Should I carry around pepper spray and brass knuckles like my 75 year old grandma? (True story!) But then after some thought, my mother decided she wasn’t scared for me after all. And here is her EXACT reason why: “If anyone ever tried to kidnap Kate, she would just have to start talking and they would return her. They might even pay us to take her back.”

So yeah, awesome. Thanks, Ma.

Even though I know my line of self-defense is offensively dependable, I still have a very neurotic attitude when it comes to the weirdos in life who love to find me and tell me their life stories. It also doesn’t help that I have other things about my personality aside from just talking that tend to make people not want to come near me and/or steal me. Here’s a good little story to prove just that.

I’m a big fan of hiking. When I moved to California, my sister took me to this place called Peter’s Canyon that is still my favorite place of all time to take a nice hike. The hills are full-on slopes of death… Which doesn’t really work for clumsy people like me all the time:

But I love it dearly and it’s my life, damnit!

Even though I know it’s not the best idea, I do sometimes workout alone. I know, I know, but shut up, it’s rare. Right before I moved to Dallas, I was packing up our apartment during a lovely day out and decided I wanted to take an hour-ish break and go hike Peter’s Canyon. Now, I DO NOT do this alone typically but it was about 2pm on a Tuesday and I DO WHAT I WANT. Normally it’s annoyingly crowded on the trail since we mainly go on the weekends, (…and every line in Orange County is Black Friday long EVERY DAY) but since it was a Tuesday afternoon almost NO cars were parked by the entrance. SCORE!

It’s about 2 hours if you do the full trail, but I still needed energy to keep packing when I got home, so I did a shorter version. The majority of the hike I did not see 1 other person! Which was awesome cause I was listening to my 90’s mix and practicing my Celine Dion fist-chest pump thing to “All By Myself” (I’m so fucking poetic sometimes).

(GET IT, GIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I got to the last few miles of the trail which was flat and led right back to the street I parked my car on. This part is pretty shaded with trees and more wooded than the death hills at the beginning. I’m walking along feeling feelings with Celine when out of the corner of my eye I see someone coming down from the woods.

It startled me a little bit since I hadn’t seen anyone else in over an hour. It ended up to be an older man who looked very sweaty and wasn’t wearing workout clothes. I wasn’t sure if he had come off another path cause from what I could see, there wasn’t any leading down to where I was walking. Maybe he was making his own? Good for him, a true pioneer. He motioned over to me and started saying something. I removed my headphones and smiled and waved. I assumed since he was wearing khaki shorts and a polo that maybe he was lost. Very easy to do, which is also very dangerous.

He came up a little closer and I could see he was sweating quite a bit.

“ Hi there, what is your name?”

Oh, okay. Guess we were starting with names to be polite instead of me just pointing to him where to go to get out of here.

“Hi, I’m Kate. Are you lost?”

“Hi, I’m Ralph.” – Let’s call him Ralph cause I have no fucking clue what his real name is nor do I care.

He stood there smiling. Not at all answering my question if he was, in fact, lost.

“Kate, where did you park?”

Ahhhh, bawhat? Kinda weird, kinda weird. Was this his manly way of not admitting he was lost and needed directions?

“Ahh, I parked on the street to the entrance like everyone else.” I wasn’t trying to sound like a complete asshole but I also wasn’t going to give the exact location of where my car was to a stranger.

“Oh, yeah I parked wayyyyy over there. At a parking lot. I had to pay.” He pointed in the exact opposite direction I was headed. Really weird as I’ve never seen or heard of a parking lot near the entire hiking area nor one that made you pay.

“Oh, never heard of it.” I started fidgeting with my headphones again as I could tell this wasn’t about him asking for directions.

“Kate, where do you live? Do you live around here?”

Creepy.

“Yeah not too far.” Trying to remain vague.

“Do you come here a lot to walk? On weekends? Or after work? Do you come alone, mainly?”

Creepier still. Not really sure where this is going at this point, so I make a firm decision to try and scare him away.

“My fiancé and I come here every once in awhile.” BOOM. Throw in that you have a man and that he goes there with you….. and the creeps run away typically. But not Ralph, cause Ralph is special.

“So you don’t come here alone? What days of the week are you here?”

At this point, I felt like taking a step back to assess the situation. I was basically in the woods. 2 miles from my car and civilization. No one else was on the trail except me and Deliverance aka Ralph. I was much more in shape and actually in workout gear so I could probably outrun him if I needed to. I had my phone on me so I could probably call 911 unless he made some surprise attack or worse… he had other people surrounding me.

At this point I was freaking myself out with all possible outcomes including, but not limited to ACTUALLY being “Taken” – Liam Neeson style. But who would find them and kill them?!?!?!

Right away I think about useful things I have on me to potentially use to fight back. I remember I have my keys in my pocket and reach for them. I jingle them a bit trying to give Ralph the hint I need to leave. He just stood there waiting for me to give him the exact times and dates of where I’ll be alone in the next 24 hours. (… ugh, the shitter? That’s where everyone is alone. Unless you have kids, I guess…)

I look down at my phone like someone texted me cause that is ALWAYS the go-to when trying to get out of a awkward situation. And let’s be honest, Ralph doesn’t know only 2 people ever text me and one of them is my mom making sure I still get my vegetables at 29 years old. ( and I do!)

I quickly start to walk backwards and mumble something about having to go and a fire (I have no idea, I’m not a great liar so it felt right at the time). Since I’m trying to keep it polite, I even smiled and waved. Before I turn around completely, I see Ralph standing there, not waving back, but looking completely baffled why I was hurrying the fuck out of there… and probably why I randomly said, “ fire” in a non-panic manner.

I turn a little corner away from his view and immediately stop to regain myself. TIME TO GET SERIOUS! I grab my keys and put all 3 of them between my fingers, Wolverine style:

(What I think I looked like…)

(What I actually looked like…. not my arm though. That is a man. I am not a man.)

This made sense to me because it was the only “weapon” I had on me. I didn’t know if Ralph was going to follow me OR if he and other people would be waiting for me at my car… so I quickly wrap my hoodie around my waist, secure my phone and headphones, put on some Metallica (… cause duh) and full on sprint the last 2 miles back to my car.

Here’s the best description of what the next few minutes looked like:

I am running FULL THROTTLE through the woods with my Wolverine-key hands at my side… almost Edward Scissorhand-style… my hoodie flying up behind me like a cape, guitars BLASTING through my headphones while frantically looking back every 10 seconds to make sure I’m not being followed.

All in all, pretty fucking awesome if you ask me.

When I see the opening to the street, I slow down a bit cause I’m EXTREMELY TIRED. Sprinting is hard and I’m not freakin’ Usain Bolt.

I see other people around the entrance, but again, I don’t know if they are safe. Even if they are a little old woman and her white, yappy dogs. She could be dangerous! You never know.

I keep my Wolverine/Scissorhand up at my side cause I wasn’t taking ANY chances. I get to the side walk where my car is and slow down. I walk around it 360, looking under and over and finally inside the back seat… CAUSE THAT IS ALWAYS WHERE THEY HIDE IN MOVIES!

(AHHHH! … and movies are always real! Like the internet!)

Luckily, I didn’t see anyone. At this point I felt safe enough to remove the keys from between my fingers and actually get into my car. I look around for a few more minutes and there is no sign of Ralph. I decide at this point, I can leave.

However, no way in hell was I going home. He could be watching. I decide that even though I’m paranoid and drench in sweat, I’m going to go a public area for the next 2-19 hours.. just in case.

I end up at a shopping center and do some impromptu grocery shopping even though I need nothing. Naturally, I walk out with a shit-ton of bags of groceries, a huge case of water and I SPECIFICALLY made sure to buy a big canister of peanuts. Cause Ralph could be allergic to them and that could be my saving grace.

Also, peanuts are delicious.

When I get back to my apartment and open the door, to my surprise I hear voices. My fiancé wasn’t home… he had already gone to Dallas. So naturally I COMPLETELY PANICKED.

I got back out my trusty keys and Wolverined it again while I slowly walked inside. It ended up being a radio that was turned on from the alarm clock in our bedroom. Felt kinda dumb, but talk radio can bore you to death. Not taking chances.

I’d like to say I played it cool the rest of the evening, but instead I forced my sister and her husband to come over and sit in my bedroom while I showered. I also forced them to search the apartment multiple times to make sure it was safe. I might have even slept with my keys still in between my fingers… (It’s not comfortable, highly DO NOT recommend it).

Lesson learned – WHEN IN DOUBT, BE AN X-MEN!

Jusssssst kidding.

Lessons learned – TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS. If you feel uncomfortable from weirdos finding you and asking personal questions, then leave. Maybe don’t sprint away while casually saying “Oh.. gotta go… fire… bye!” Ralph could have been harmless or had some weird social defect. I will never know. But I do know that even if I looked like a complete idiot scrambling away, at least I was being safe. And even if like me, kidnappers would bring you right back the second you opened your month, if you feel uncomfortable… GET OUT. What do moms of the world always say? “Better safe than sorry!” And they are right, like all moms usually are.

Be safe. Be aware. Be yourself… cause let’s be honest, if Ralph and his kidnapping bandits did get to witness my insane escape away from them, I doubt they would have wanted me anyway. Being my odd self has probably saved me a number of times from weirdos like him.

Moral of the story, being yourself is always the best bet. And in my case, the safest.

(Look at that face!!! The Guac has a better chance of being stolen. #truestory. #guaclife)

#x-men #taken #liam neeson #edward scissorhands #funny #true story #wolverine #safety #girl power #new girl #nick miller #creepy #killer in the back seat #be yourself #guac #be safe #be aware #nutz

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