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luulapants · 4 years

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Hale Royal Family AU - Part 3

Based on @shey-elizabeth‘s post:

”Me reading the Prince Harry-Meghan Markel royal family drama:

Wait… I think I read this fic already. (Starts scrolling through my AO3 history)

#random #royalty au #someone write me a steter fic #reading the news before coffee”

Part 1

Part 2

May 2017

Trendy or In-Your-Face? 20 of Stiles’s Most Outrageous Looks

Peter snagged the tablet out of Stiles’s hand on his way to the kitchen, stopping just long enough to tap it on the top of Stiles’s head. “I thought you said you were going to stop reading this tabloid trash,” he tutted.

“Do you think my stompy boots are a cry for attention?” Stiles asked.

“No, but I think they imply a level of masculinity you have no intention of following through on.”

“That’s hurtful,” Stiles said.

“I also think they’re no one’s fucking business but yours,” Peter added for good measure. He stuck his head into the kitchen and called, “Mrs. Larson? I don’t mean to rush you, but is the tea about ready? I’d like to be out by nine thirty.”

When he turned around, he saw Stiles had stretched out long on the sofa, his feet and hands dangling over the ends on either side. “What’s the rush? We’re just hanging out with my dad.”

“We would be skinned alive if we arrived late to one of my family’s events. I think we should extend your father the same respect out of principle,” Peter lied smoothly. He walked over and bent down for a quick kiss.

“Mmm, I love you,” Stiles murmured.

“Even when I get on your nerves?” Peter asked. This had become a standard call-and-response of affection for the two of them.

“Especially when you get on my nerves,” Stiles answered.

As far as Stiles knew, this would be a quiet celebratory brunch, just the two of them and the sheriff. He had opted not to attend his university’s graduation ceremony, not wanting the press that would inevitably come with such a public spectacle. “There’s thousands of other kids graduating, too, and if I go, it’ll all be a bunch of cameras on me drawing the attention,” he had said with a roll of his eyes, and Peter hated that the vultures in the tabloids had already gotten under his skin so thoroughly.

“It’s your graduation. It’s a big deal, and you deserve to enjoy it as much as the rest of them,” Peter had argued.

But Stiles had just shrugged a lazy shoulder. “Knowing me, I’d wear my stupid square hat wrong or my gown would be too flashy.”

So, to make up for it, they were spending graduation day with the sheriff. Peter had expected the man to hate him, what with the age difference and the reporters harassing Noah for information about Stiles. At first, he may very well have hated Peter, but a few blowups between Peter and those same reporters had proved beyond any doubt that he was prepared to defend Stiles with utmost ferocity.

When Peter pulled him into his scheme for the day, Noah hadn’t even hesitated. He just clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder and asked if he had the ring size worked out.

He’d taken the size while Stiles slept. A parade of elephants couldn’t wake Stiles before seven.

—-

“Did we really have to go somewhere that requires formal attire?” Stiles griped, fidgeting with his blazer. “For breakfast? I’m too scared to eat pancakes in this thing – I’ll get syrup on it.”

“You should try eating with your mouth closed,” Peter advised, and got an elbow to the ribs for his trouble.

The hostess that greeted them stumbled over her words in giddiness. “Oh, uh, your – your Highness, Mr. Stilinski. We’re so happy you chose to dine with us this morning.”

“I hear your terrace has one of the best views in town,” Peter replied smoothly. He had reserved the whole terrace for this morning.

It was beautiful, high up on a cliffside overlooking a comparatively quiet, scenic area of Richardson Bay. He couldn’t have asked for better weather, the fog having cleared already, leaving nothing but cloud-dappled sunshine and a sweetly cooling breeze off the water.

Noah was already waiting for them, leaning against the railing and looking out over the bay with a broad smile on his face that Peter didn’t often see so unguarded. He hadn’t expected to feel so jittery over the idea that Noah was actively happy about this.

Stiles got the pancakes after all, but insisted on taking the blazer off while he ate. They mostly talked about Stiles’s plans now that he was finished with school. Laura had already assured him a seat in the royal family PR department, though Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to do that full time.

“It just sort of feels like… like it’s getting handed to me? It’s not supposed to be that easy, you know?”

Peter clicked his tongue and leaned over to kiss some syrup off the corner of Stiles’s mouth. “It’s about time our penchant for nepotism went to a deserving candidate,” he argued. He pulled back, licking the sticky flavor off his lips. The spot was still there. He dipped the corner of his napkin in his water, then reached over to scrub it off. Stiles would be furious if he had syrup on his face for the proposal.

Noah watched his fussing with a nostalgic sort of expression, and Peter couldn’t help but think that he was remembering Stiles’s mother. It made him flush a little, not expecting the kick of emotion that came with the thought.

“He’s right, you know,” Noah said. “Most successful people had someone give them a hand up at some point. There’s no shame in it. You said yourself Laura is interested in the research you were working on – that’s on your merit.”

“And you did promise you would keep working on the promos for the vineyard,” Peter added. “So it’s not like it would be your sole vocation.”

“Oh, because working for your vineyard totally helps with the nepotism issues,” Stiles joked.

“I didn’t say that. I said you promised,” Peter shot back with a grin.

As they were finishing up their food, Stiles’s dad received a call, right on time. “Work,” he said, “I’m gonna go take this.” Then he disappeared inside, leaving Stiles and Peter alone on the terrace.

Peter nudged Stiles and stood. “Come on, let’s enjoy the view.” He walked over to the railing, his heart thudding in his chest as he placed a hand briefly over the lump in his jacket pocket.

Stiles came up next to him, hands gripping wide on the railing as he leaned forward. “God, this place is really, really beautiful,” he sighed. He looked over at Peter. “Thank you. This is, like, a thousand times better than getting mobbed by reporters today.”

Stepping in close, Peter wrapped a hand around the back of Stiles’s neck and leaned in for a kiss. “I can think of something that would make this day even better,” he purred.

A mischievous grin spread across Stiles’s lips, clearly buying the misdirection as he turned toward Peter. “Oh yeah? You’ll have to tell me all about it.” He kissed at Peter’s jaw.

“Well, to start…” Peter murmured, then took a half step back and dropped to a knee. He saw the teasing turn to confusion turn to shock and realization all in the matter of a second as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little ring box. “You know I love you, Stiles. I’ve loved you since the day I met you, and I love you more every day.”

“Even when I get on your nerves?” Stiles blurted.

Peter grinned. “Especially when you get on my nerves.”

They had talked about it, of course. Peter would never make this sort of decision for the two of them without Stiles’s input. They had talked in vague terms, though: What would they do when it happened? Should it be public or private? How long should they wait? How would they handle the press?

He opened the box. Inside sat two slim cobalt rings, simple but elegant with a subtle, weaving design. “Will you marry me?”

Stiles sucked in a shaky breath, blinking quickly to chase off the waterworks Peter knew were threatening to overtake him. He covered his face with his hands, then slipped them down so they covered just his mouth and nose, peeking over them at Peter, at the rings. He said nothing, just made noisy near-hyperventilating sounds.

Finally, Peter said, “You know, traditionally, an answer is expected in this situation. Some of us are getting on in our years and have knee pain.”

“Shut up, you don’t have knee pain,” Stiles laughed. “Let me feel my fucking feelings for a second.” He wiped at the inside corners of his eyes and nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yes. Obviously. Get up.”

Peter started to get up, but Stiles was already grabbing him by his arm, pulling him up the rest of the way. He crowded in for a hug first, burying his face in Peter’s neck and scenting him. He didn’t have werewolf senses, but he knew that Peter liked the feeling of scenting and being scented. Stiles pulled back just far enough to kiss Peter, slow and sweet.

Off on the other side of the balcony, Noah was snapping pictures on his cell phone. Inside the restaurant, he had no doubt others were as well. They would make an official announcement this week, but the rumors would leak well ahead of then.

Bringing the ring box between them, Peter looked down at it. “Should we put these on now or wait until the wedding?” he asked.

“Oh my god the wedding,” Stiles said. “There’s going to be a wedding. I’m going to marry you.” He was grinning like an idiot at Peter, then looked over to where his dad stood, trying to pretend that he wasn’t crying. “Dad, I’m gonna marry this guy!” he called.

Noah laughed and waved a hand.

“Oh my god, he knew!” Stiles realized, gaping. He shoved at Peter’s shoulder. “Did you ask his permission for my hand in marriage?” he demanded.

Peter lifted his chin. “That’s a trick question, and I won’t respond to it.”

Stiles laughed, then looked down at the rings. “I want to put it on now,” he decided. “I think I’m gonna go crazy waiting to be married to you.”

The words hit Peter square in the chest. For a second, he could hardly breathe. He kissed Stiles again, nuzzling his cheek as they parted. “Come on,” he said, reaching down to separate the rings in the box. One was just slightly smaller than the other, for a slenderer finger. He picked it up and held it out for Stiles’s finger. It fit perfectly.

Stiles picked up the other and slid it on Peter’s finger, leaning up to kiss his cheek as he did. “I’m gonna marry you…” he murmured, a bit manically against his skin.

Finally, Stiles crossed the terrace to tackle his father in one of those all-out Stilinski-style hugs. Peter could hear the sheriff murmuring, “Congratulations, son. He’s a good one.” Then Noah was releasing Stiles and turning to him, holding his arms out. “Come on, then. You may a Hale, but you’re going to be a Stilinski, too. Stilinskis are huggers.”

—-

They drove back to the house with Stiles’s dad, though Peter’s personal driver and a bodyguard stuck close to their back bumper. Stiles sat up front with his dad and spent the whole drive gleefully grilling the both of them on how long they had been planning this behind his back.

Nothing looked amiss as they turned down their street, but the moment the front gate opened to let them in, Stiles whipped around in his seat with an accusing expression. Their driveway was lined with cars, many of which Stiles would recognize on sight.

“How many people did you tell about proposing!” he demanded.

Peter laughed and leaned forward to push on the side of Stiles’s head playfully. “I told them it was a graduation party, you idiot.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked back around at the cars, probably cataloging who he could expect to be here. “We get to tell them, though, right?”

“That’s the idea.”

The royal presence was relatively modest to start with – at least, as modest as it could get with two princesses and three princes in attendance. In any case, Peter hadn’t branched out into his extended family, except for a couple of cousins who lived locally and who he got on with well. His nieces and nephew had come, Laura hugely pregnant and Marco glued to her side, his protective instincts in overdrive. Peter had invited some business friends he’d met through the winery as well.

The rest were Stiles’s people. They were mostly around his age, high school friends and a few from college. Scott ran over to tackle Stiles in a hug the moment they stepped onto the terrace. The staff had done a spectacular job setting everything up in the short time they had been out. Lydia approached at a more sedate pace, strolling up with a plate of hors d’oeuvres balanced in a neatly manicured hand. Peter liked Lydia the best out of Stiles’s friends, though they had only met when she was back from MIT on vacation.

She waited for Scott to stop trying to squeeze the life out of Stiles before leaning in and pecking him on the cheek. “Happy graduation,” she praised. Lydia had graduated a year earlier and was now working on a graduate degree of startling complexity. Turning to Peter, she said, “And thank you again for the plane ticket – it was very sweet.”

“Of course,” Peter agreed.

“You bought her a plane ticket?” Stiles demanded, then spun back to Lydia, gesturing wildly. “You let him buy you a plane ticket?”

Lydia shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “He insisted.” Then, changing the subject, she reached out and snatched Stiles’s flailing left hand from the air. “Now why don’t you tell me what the hell that is.”

It figured she would be the first to notice the rings.

“Wait, woah, what?” Scott demanded, face splitting in a grin. “Dude!” He turned and called over his shoulder, “Hey, Allison!” waving her over.

Stiles groaned. “Oh my God, would you two shut up? We’re supposed to make an announcement. I don’t even have a drink yet.”

As if on cue, a waiter appeared at their sides with a tray of drinks, and Stiles snatched a pink-tinted glass of champagne from it. “That one’s the wolfsbane,” the waiter corrected gently. Stiles passed it to Peter, then reached for a glass of the yellowish bubbly.

“You thought I would serve sparkling rosé?” Peter asked, wrinkling his nose.

Stiles rolled his eyes, leaning against Peter’s shoulder, turning to Lydia and Scott as Allison came over. “He thinks rosé is a tacky bandwagon trend,” he explained.

“It’s only popular because Instagram models think it looks pretty,” Peter huffed.

“Oh my god, did you get engaged?” Allison blurted, a touch too loud, and every wolf in attendance wheeled around to look at them. A moment too late, she slapped a hand over her own mouth, mortified as she realized that she had blown the surprise.

Peter waved a hand at her. “That’s on us, I let him distract me,” he assured her. Next to him, Stiles was cracking up, face pressed against Peter’s shoulder. Peter sighed, wrapping an arm around Stiles’s middle. He raised his voice. “For those of you who didn’t hear, Stiles and I have an announcement to make,” he called out.

Stiles quelled his laughter, lifting his head and then snatching Peter’s left hand with his own. He raised them into the air. “We’re getting married!”

The next two hours of the party, Peter lost track of how many people they had talked to. There weren’t even that many people at the party, he didn’t think. By the time one person had finished congratulating them, another pair of lips were against his cheek or an arm around his shoulders.

“It’s a good thing we ate before we got here,” Stiles murmured against his ear. “I haven’t even gotten near the food.”

Peter kissed his temple and grabbed his hand, dragging Stiles toward one of the food tables. “Sorry, her future highness demands sustenance,” he joked to Marie, his Winemaking Director.

“I wasn’t demanding anything,” Stiles insisted with a laugh.

“You were about to,” Peter replied. He knew the progression of Stiles’s appetites. If he so much as mentioned food, it meant he was no more than ten minutes from devolving into a whiny, hangry mess. “Come on, what do you want? They made all your favorites.”

“Taquitos?” Stiles teased.

“All of your favorites that are fit to serve to guests,” Peter amended.

By the time he had a seventh bacon-wrapped water chestnut stuffed in his cheek, Stiles had fallen deep in conversation with Marco about his and Laura’s royal wedding experience. Peter hadn’t wandered far from Stiles, caught up in conversation with Lydia and Kira but keeping track of his fiance’s movements in the back of his mind. He didn’t notice Talia’s arrival so much as he noticed the sound of Stiles choking on his food.

He coughed and scrambled over to Peter’s side, hissing, “You didn’t warn me she was coming!”

Talia heard – of course she heard – and looked over at them with a smile. Peter lifted his hand in a wave, smiling sweetly, though he felt as thrown as Stiles looked. “I invited her,” he murmured through his teeth, “but since it was just a graduation party, I figured she wouldn’t make it. One of her brood must have texted her.”

The crowd parted for her like opposing magnets, repelled by her admittedly intimidating presence. Her Majesty wore a bold red business dress, a little out of place at a garden party, but he figured she hadn’t had enough notice to change. Lydia and Kira, even Marco, cleared out to give her unfettered access to the guests of honor.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” she said, stopping a respectable distance away. If they had done this in private, she would have hugged them both, been exuberant and happy for them. In front of this many unknown people, she had to maintain her stoic alpha veneer.

“You heard right,” Stiles answered, holding his hand out to show the ring.

Talia took his hand, using it to pull him in close enough to press her cheek to his, a more affectionate greeting than she had given him in public ever before. Stiles looked elated when she pulled away to give Peter the same greeting. “Congratulations to you both. Stiles, we’re very excited to have you in the family,” she assured him, and the tone was genuine, though Peter could hear the underlying anxiety. No doubt her political wheels were already churning with the potential fallout.

They made polite small-talk for a while. Peter hated talking to his sister in public like this, when she knew others could be listening in. Everything stayed surface-level, unemotional, stiff. It made him feel, sometimes, like she didn’t care about him at all, even if his logical brain knew better. She asked about the proposal. She asked if they had thought about timing yet, which they hadn’t. She offered the use of the royal events planner, which Peter had already assumed was a given.

Then, as if it were just another innocuous question, she smiled at Stiles and said, “And do you think you’ll want the bite after the wedding?”

Stiles froze, and Peter could hear his heart hammering, the sour scent of anxiety spiking.

Peter placed a hand on Stiles’s lower back, trying to steady him. He wanted to snap at Talia, scold her for asking that sort of question in this setting, on this day, for asking at all. He wanted to call it out as a rude fucking question, but he had no idea if it was. There really wasn’t a prescribed etiquette for a royal marrying a human. They just weren’t supposed to in the first place.

After what felt like an eternity, Stiles found his voice. It came out quiet, though, a little shaky. “Um, no. I… thank you, but I don’t want that.”

Talia’s expression moved in ways so minute that nobody but immediate family could have picked up on it. She recognized, Peter knew, that she had upset Stiles.

Peter gave her a coldly polite smile. “We are very glad you could make it,” he said. “I know it wasn’t on your agenda for the day. I hope you didn’t have to detour too far.”

She took the out, turning fully to Peter. “Oh, not at all. I was just on my way to a meeting in the city here. I should probably be heading that way, though. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer.” If anyone noticed the awkwardness of her exit, they didn’t say anything.

Once she was gone, Peter turned and took both of Stiles’s hands in his own. “I love you,” he breathed, voice soft and just for Stiles. “I love you exactly as you are.”

Stiles let out an unsteady breath and nodded. He pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

—-

Peter swore, checking his coat pockets, then his laptop bag, then the dining room table, for the third time. Finally, he headed upstairs to the bedroom. “Stiles? Could you call my -”

He stopped in the doorway at the sight that greeted him. Stretched out face-down on the bed, still in his pajamas, Stiles lie with a pillow hugged under his chest, face pressed into the sheets. It was a Stiles position of deep distress, one of the most distressed of his library of absurd positions.

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” he asked, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. He nearly sat on Stiles’s tablet, then picked it up and turned the screen on.

Gold Digger Stiles Strikes It Rich

Peter’s hand tightened on the edge of the tablet, but he quelled the surge of rage before he could snap the stupid thing in half. He closed out the window, then set the tablet aside. “You know nobody that matters thinks that, right?” he asked softly, rubbing a hand over Stiles’s back.

Stiles’s shoulders lifted in a shrug.

“Stiles,” Peter admonished. “Do I think that? Does my family think that? My family adores you.”

“Talia thought I wanted the bite,” Stiles said into the mattress.

Peter sighed. “She shouldn’t have made the offer when she did,” he said firmly, “and I can assure you she didn’t offer because she thought you were only with me to get it. If anything, that was her own selfish hope of avoiding the mixed marriage.”

Stiles rolled onto his side to face Peter, still hugging his pillow. “I hate that I care about that shit. I told myself I wasn’t going to care about it, I told myself I didn’t give a shit what the vultures said, but.. but, fuck, why don’t they like me?”

“Like has nothing to do with it, Stiles,” he said softly, scooting closer so he could pet Stiles’s hair. “They’re just out to get attention and sell subscriptions.”

“They didn’t do this to Marco,” Stiles argued. “Marco wears a flashy pocket square and, oh, hey, everyone, pocket squares are in this season! Everyone go get yourself a new pocket square!” He waved his hands in front of the pillow theatrically. “I wear a tie that doesn’t match Talia’s hat and I’m trying to tear apart royal society with my bare hands.”

Peter moved up to the head of the bed, tugging Stiles up to sit curled against his chest. “It’s homophobia,” he said, not about to beat around the bush on the matter. “It’s specism.”

“It’s bullshit,” Stiles muttered, nuzzling into Peter’s chest. He’d worn a silk shirt for an early meeting with a wine exporter. Stiles held out his left hand, staring down at the ring on his finger. “I’m supposed to be happy right now. I’m supposed to be fucking, like, floating on the air, happy about getting engaged and getting married and instead I see one stupid article like that, and I just…”

Wrapping his arms around Stiles tightly, Peter said, “I know.” He kissed the top of his head. “You think I don’t know? There can be a hundred positive articles, and the one that sticks in your head is the nasty one. I went through this when I came out – you know I did. I don’t read the papers anymore, and do you know why?”

Huffing, because Peter had already told him a hundred times not to read the tabloids, Stiles looked up at him. “Because you’ll just drive yourself crazy?”

Peter kissed his forehead. “No. Because you told me not to.”

A little furrow appeared between Stiles’s brows. “When?”

“The night we met.” Peter rubbed his thumb over the furrow. “You made me promise that when I came out, I would kick anyone to the curb that wasn’t a delight about it. And, you know, the press was not a delight about it.”

Stiles stared up at him, a smile slowly fighting its way through the pout on his face. He groaned. “God, stop throwing my own good advice back at me. It’s annoying.” He sat up a little and nuzzled into Peter’s neck. He nipped at the skin there, just a tease. “I love you,” he muttered, as if thoroughly inconvenienced by the fact.

“Even when I get on your nerves?” Peter prompted.

Twisting in his arms, Stiles straddled him and kissed his lips. “Especially then.”

They made out for a long while, lazily shedding their clothes until Stiles sat bare in his lap, a hand wrapped loosely around both of their cocks while Peter pumped two fingers into his ass. Stiles pulled away with a shuddering breath that usually meant he was too distracted to focus on kissing anymore. Peter wrapped his free hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, keeping him close so their noses pressed together.

“How do you want to come?” Peter asked, voice low. He curled his fingers, and Stiles arched his back with a whine.

“Like this,” Stiles decided, rocking back against his hand and stroking them a little faster. “I wanna come like this, then I want you to come on my face.”

Peter ducked to press kisses along Stiles’s throat, working down to scrape teeth along his collarbone, then finally bit at one of his nipples. Stiles leaned back, his free hand braced on the bed between Peter’s legs as he rode his fingers.

“Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, Peter. Fuck, m’gonna -” His voice broke off as he came with a shiver, hand still stroking the both of them, using his come as lube now.

Once he had come down, Peter nudged him onto his back and crawled over him, straddling his chest. “You made a mess of me, darling,” he purred. “Are you going to clean it up?”

Stiles stretched his arms over his head. “I’m royalty now, I don’t have to clean.”

Peter gave him an exasperated look. “You know, for a future trophy husband, your bedroom talk could use some work,” he teased.

“Fuck my face?” Stiles offered, batting his lashes.

“Better,” Peter conceded. He dragged the head of his cock over Stiles’s lower lip. “Lazy, but better.”

“Lazy!” Stiles huffed. “Excuse you, I am catering to your alpha male instincts. I am alluringly vulnerable. I have -”

“Stiles?”

“Yes?”

“Arguing is for foreplay, and I can’t fuck your mouth while you’re talking.”

Stiles scowled at him, but he opened his mouth wide and dragged his tongue along the underside of Peter’s cockhead. With a grin, Peter leaned forward onto his hands and knees and slipped into the soft heat of Stiles’s mouth. He rocked his hips down in slow, uneven thrusts so Stiles could never be quite sure how much he was going to get. Finally, Stiles tightened his lips around him, moaned, and sucked. Peter’s knees nearly gave out, which would probably have resulted in a very difficult to explain injury for Stiles.

Peter continued thrusting shallowly, groaning and dropping down onto an elbow. With one hand freed up, he stroked Stiles’s hair, tugging lightly and winning an answering moan. “God, you feel incredible,” he murmured. He could feel his body tightening, nearly at the edge. When he couldn’t hold off any longer, Peter sat up again. He slipped out of Stiles’s mouth and started jerking himself over his face with short, quick strokes.

“Fuck yeah, please. Mark me up. Make me smell like you,” Stiles encouraged, stroking Peter’s thighs with both hands. Peter came with a low moan, watching as he streaked Stiles’s face with white.

Before his legs could really give out, Peter shifted and dropped onto his back on the bed, the opposite direction of Stiles, so his head was next to Stiles’s hip.

After a moment, Stiles swatted at his abdomen. “Peter, it’s in my eyelashes. Get a washcloth.”

Peter looked down and saw that, yes, Stiles had come in his eyelashes. “I don’t know,” he mused. “That look is really catering to my alpha male instincts.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

“It’s alluringly vulnerable,” he continued.

“You’re literally the worst. I’ll wipe my face on the bedspread. Mrs. Larson will poison us both.”

Peter laughed and sat up, leaning over to kiss Stiles’s lips. “Alright, alright.”

“Lazy,” Stiles huffed as Peter ventured into the en suite bathroom for a washcloth. “Is that any way to speak to your betrothed?”

“I call it like I see it,” Peter called back over the sound of the water as he wet the cloth. He walked back in and found Stiles hadn’t moved at all. He knelt on the bed and carefully dabbed at Stiles’s eyes, then wiped the rest of his face with the same soft touch.

Stiles blinked his eyes open and stared up at Peter, expression a little dreamy. He got that way sometimes, in between the joking and bickering. He looked at Peter like he never wanted to look at anything else.

“You know, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” Peter murmured.

“I know,” he agreed. Stiles caught him by the wrist, pulling the cloth from his hand before lifting Peter’s hand to his mouth. He kissed each knuckle, then rubbed his face against them. “I’ve been thinking about colors,” he said, “for the wedding.”

Peter settled next to him on the bed. “Tell me.”

#Steter #stiles stilinski #Peter Hale #hale family #sheriff stilinski #stilinski family feels #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf au #hale royal family au #royals au #this tiny prompt has gotten wildly out of control #part 3 of 6 #because I have no self control #rated I for I don't know how to tag rated e fics without angering the bots

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sinfulwonders · 4 years

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👀

Have a different despair disease Kokichi WIP. This one is near completion, but I just felt like something was off about it and never could figure it out to post it! So now it gets to see the light of day because of this WIP challenge :P

Nothing but the Truth

When Kokichi awoke in his dorm room to the sound of the morning announcement, something felt off. The room felt colder than usual and his head was pounding. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead and stumbled out of bed.

Am I getting sick?

Kokichi made his way to his bathroom and was taken aback by how pale his already snow white skin looked. His eyes looked sunken in, as if he hadn’t slept in days, while his purple locks clung to his sweaty forehead.

“I look like shit…” Kokichi mumbled aloud, frowning.

He staggered back towards his warm bed, but before he made it there he heard an all too familiar sound:

DING DONG BING BONG

“All students report to the gym for an announcement! And that means ALL students!” Monokuma’s voice rung out loudly through the speakers, causing Kokichi’s aching head to throb even more.

On an average day Kokichi spent more time on his appearance than he would care to admit, but today he barely got his shirt on correctly. He cursed the clasps as he struggled. But eventually, the sickly boy made his way to the gym.

At the entrance, Kokichi was greeted by a smiling Maki.

“Good morning Kokichi!!!” She beamed, sweat forming under her bangs.

“Umm…” Kokichi had no idea how to respond to this.

Maki’s eyes got wide with concern, “What’s the matter Kokichi?”

What the hell is this? Maki has never said a nice thing to me; is she stealing my shtick and trying to be sarcastic? Is she trying to tease me? Well I guess I need to teach her who’s she’s messing with.

Kokichi rounded up as much of what little strength he had in his current state and gave her one of his best smirks. He answered with as much enthusiasm as he could-

“I feel horrible, Maki. I think I may be sick.”

What the hell was that? I went in to mock her, tell her I feel *absolutely wonderful*, but that’s not what happened…What the hell is going on?

As the rest of the class wandered in, they suddenly heard a laugh at the front of the gym.

“Puhuhuhuhu!”

Monokuma landed on the podium, and lifted his arms in the air, like a gymnast does after a landing, “Listen up, Kiddos! Back by popular demand: The Despair Disease!”

Popular demand? Well that supports my theory that this dumb game is being shown to…someone... But what the hell is the despair disease?

“Now some of you may have noticed that a few of your friends are acting strange. And some of you may be feeling pretty under the weather by now. Well welcome to your Killing Game Motive! Since none of you have had the balls to kill anyone, we’re gonna switch up some of those pesky personalities of yours!”

“Switch up our personalities?” Spoke up the timid detective, hiding under his hat.

“Yep! Cool innit? The despair disease has a pesky side effect! Besides making you feel like shit and nearly killing you, it also effects your personality! Each effect on a person is different, but as the saying goes: opposites attract! Look at Maki for example! Usually so stoic and calm! But today she’s as friendly as ever! That’s why she has the Bubbly disease! Now I gave you that one for free, but you’ll have to figure out the other students that have it yourself! But watch out, Kiddos. It’s contagious!”

As Monokuma said those last words and disappeared from the podium, everyone took a step back from one another. Only Monokuma’s wretched laugh echoed through the silent room. It was a while before anyone spoke.

Finally Maki smiled and said, “That’s weird what Monokuma said, cuz I feel great! I don’t feel diseased or despaired at all! Guess he was wrong!” She gave a peppy shrug and began to skip away.

“Wait Maki! We need to stick together!” yelled Kaito, the spiky haired boy beginning to follow her.

Kokichi rolled my eyes.

Why couldn’t that big oaf get the disease? His personality is infuriating.

“Kaito is right, Maki. We need to figure out who exactly has this supposed disease…” Shuichi started strong, and then trailed off as the group looked at him. He pushed his hat down a bit to hide a slight blush.

Kokichi caught it and sighed, “What a cutie…” He instantly clamped his hand over his mouth. Luckily, no one heard him.

What the hell was that? Why did I say that out loud? Could this be the despair disease?

Kokichi slunk in the background so as not to draw attention to himself, as the group discussed options and eventually opted to have the infected people be confined to their rooms. Kokichi rolled his eyes.

I really need to keep investigating this stupid place. I can’t afford these idiots locking me up for who knows how long.

Kokichi stifled a cough as they asked everyone who was feeling ill, disoriented, or just different to raise their hands. The boy averted his gaze from the others and did not raise his hand.

“Kokichi said he was sick!” Maki sang, her hands behind her back as she swayed back and forth like an excited child. Her pigtails completed the look.

Oh my fucking God Maki. The one time I want you to keep your damn mouth shut you’re feeling extra ready to share. Just my luck.

Kokichi glared and then quickly plastered his signature devious smirk on his face.

“Kokichi- you don’t look so good…” Shuichi took a step towards him.

“You’re right, I feel terrible!” Kokichi blurted and then threw his hand over his mouth. He had tried to reply with an insult and a vague non answer to the question, but had said what he was actually thinking.

Miu burst out laughing, “Oh man! Monokuma did say it made people the opposite! It looks like Cock-ichi can’t lie!”

Kokichi glared and started to retort back. But he choked his words back and just looked at the ground.

I wouldn’t be able to say anything that I wanted to anyway. This is so boring.

Kokichi looked back up at the group, “I’m going to my room. I’m bored.”

Good, I was able to say that at least. But without my lies…I guess I need to wait for this crap to wear off.

Kokichi took a few steps, glaring daggers at a still snickering Miu, but as he passed her he faltered. He started coughing and he almost fell over. While Miu stopped smiling, Shuichi ran up to the boy.

“Kokichi!” he cried as he helped him up, “Do you need help back to your room?”

Ugh I hate this. I’m so freaking helpless. And of course, Shuichi is the first to come to my aid. He’s always so freaking considerate. Bleh. Boring. I just need to tell him that he can go to Hell.

Kokichi rolled his eyes and spit out the word, “Yes.” He instantly frowned and his eyes shot to the floor.

Shuichi smiled and turned back to the others, “Will you make sure that Maki gets back to her room, Kaito?” Kaito nodded and Shuichi glanced at Maki who pouted, “And actually stays there?” Kaito gave him a wide grin and a thumbs up.

Bleh, I wish I could say anything to wipe that stupid “heroic” grin off of Kaito’s face. Actually, I just wish I could say anything. This is the worssssst.

Shuichi and Kokichi made their way back to the dorms in silence. Partway through Kokichi began to lose balance again, so Shuichi insisted that Kokichi lean on him for support. Kokichi replied with an exhausted nod. Kokichi, being the smaller of the two males, forced Shuichi to lean over so that he could drape his arm around his shoulder. He leaned his body into the taller boy, and they began their journey once again.

He smells nice…

“Umm, thanks Kokichi…” Shuichi stammered.

“Oh god, did I say that out loud?” Kokichi’s face turned bright red.

Shuichi gave the boy a kind smile, “Yeah, you kind of did…”

Kokichi eyes immediately shot to the ground.

Jesus. I must be getting delirious. This is the most embarrassing day of my life.

The two continued, making the journey in a now awkward silence. As they got to the Kokichi’s room, Kokichi wrestled with the key until finally opening the door to his messy room. Shuichi helped the boy to his bed and sat him down.

“Do you…need anything else?” Shuichi looked down at his feet as he said it.

For you to leave!

“I’m hungry…and thirsty,” Kokichi whispered.

Ugh God dammit!

“I can go get Kirumi to make you something! What would you like?” Shuichi exclaimed, excited that he could be useful in some way.

Kokichi blushed at the enthusiastic boy, trying to ignore how cute he looked when he was excited, “I guess…soup.”

“Of course! I’ll be right back!”

The detective ran off, on a mission. When the door shut, Kokichi used the opportunity to let out a loud, dramatic sigh. He fell back and hit the pillow.

Shuichi is the worst person for me to be around right now. He’s a detective. He knows how to get information out of people, and now I can’t even lie to him. Also…it sucks that he’s so damn hot.

Kokichi had been attracted to Shuichi since the first time he had met him. He was a quiet, socially awkward boy, but the aura of mystery that he had around him was intoxicating. He seemed like he was always thinking, that his wheels were always spinning, coming up with new theories about everything.

Has he ever spent any of long periods of time thinking about me? Trying to figure me out?

Not only was Shuichi obviously incredibly intelligent with an eye for detail that no one could match, but the detective was incredibly caring and genuine about his feelings.

He knows the intricacies of the world, and how corrupt most people’s intentions are, and still chooses to wear his heart on his sleeve. It’s…I can’t do that…

As Kokichi was absorbed in his thoughts of Shuichi, the boy in question knocked.

“I have soup!”

“Come in…” Kokichi coughed.

Shuichi entered, carrying a very well presented tray, obviously set by Kirumi. The soup smelled amazing, and when the detective handed it over, Kokichi couldn’t help but take a big gulp.

“Ahh!”

“Oh! It’s still hot!” Shuichi exclaimed, quickly handing Kokichi the glass of water on the tray. Shuichi tried not to smile at Kokichi fanning his tongue with surprise. The Ultimate Supreme Leader looked so childlike and innocent.

As Kokichi gulped down the water, his eyes made contact with the concerned detective’s. He gave him a sheepish grin and reddened, “I should have known…”

Shuichi couldn’t help but let out a laugh, surprised at how strangely adorable Kokichi was acting.

“You have such a cute laugh, Shuichi!” Kokichi exclaimed, and then slapped a hand over his mouth, his face now entirely crimson.

“Th-thanks, Kokichi,” Shuichi decided to take the compliment in stride. After all, Kokichi couldn’t help it, and it was a rare instance where he knew Kokichi wasn’t secretly insulting him.

Kokichi placed the tray next to his bed and buried his face in his pillow.

I wasn’t even trying to say anything and that slipped out! The truth is getting harder and harder to contain! Why is this happening to me??

Kokichi felt his bed sink with pressure. He looked up to see that Shuichi had sat next to the sprawled boy. He placed a comforting hand on the boy’s upper back.

“I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Kokichi,” Shuichi said with a compassionate smile, “But can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…”

Kokichi thought about it for a moment. Then slowly nodded.

“Well this disease is obviously very difficult for you. And I’m sure most people would hate it…I mean… not getting a say on whether you give a truthful, untruthful, or even partially true answer…would suck. But you’re really struggling, Kokichi. Why is it that you lie constantly? Do you hate the truth?”

Kokichi pondered, then slowly, logically, stated, “That’s more than one question.” He smirked at his ability to still give at least a partially sarcastic response.

Shuichi chuckled, “Then the first one then. Why is it that you lie constantly?”

Do I even know the answer to that question? I’m sure I did initially, but I’ve been lying to myself for so long that I don’t know if any answer I give would be a truly honest answer.

“To protect myself. Fear, insecurities, feelings… they all can be detrimental. But lies protect you. From enemies, friends… even yourself. Lying is my armor.” Kokichi left his mouth agape as the answer escaped his lips. He knew it was true even though he hadn’t been able to come up with it on his own.

Shuichi nodded in understanding, “Thank you for your honesty, Kokichi.”

Kokichi smiled. He tried to say no problem, but instead said, “I hadn’t even admitted that to myself before.”

I hate this stupid, goddamn disease!

The boy punched the pillow in frustration. Shuichi reached out instinctually and touched Kokichi’s forearm. The boy jerked away from the detective and glared.

“Oh I’m sorry!” Apologized the embarrassed detective, “I’ll l-let you get some rest…”

The boy quickly exited the room, assuming that the other was angry with him. As Shuichi closed the door, Kokichi’s face softened into a regretful frown, and he let a quiet word escape his lips.

“Stay…”

----------------

Kokichi awoke with a start. He tried to jump up, but then the previous day’s events hit him like a truck. Or that was possibly the feeling of his head pounding. The sick boy recalled the illness that had befallen the group of students, effecting him and Maki, at the very least. He also recalled the unusual interaction with Shuichi and his face flushed.

He probably thinks I hate him. Well… that’s actually a good thing for both of us. But still, it bothers me if I made him sad for no reason. And it pisses me off that it bothers me!

Thinking about that made Kokichi’s face turn an even darker shade of red. It was in that moment that he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Kokichi silently groaned at how friendly his voice sounded.

Shuichi opened the door slowly, “You s-sound like you feel better.”

As he entered he saw Kokichi’s extremely red face and his eyes widened.

“Did your fever get worse?” He ran over and placed his hand on Kokichi’s forehead, “You feel really warm!”

He suddenly backed up several steps, “I’m sorry! I didn’t m-mean to invade your personal space. I was just w-worried.”

“I don’t mind it when it’s you, Shuichi.”

Great. Thanks despair disease. Wording my answer like some stupid school girl with a crush. Appreciate that.

Luckily for Kokichi, Shuichi didn’t read too much into it and just sighed in relief, “That’s good to hear,” he paused and presented an embarrassed smile, “I felt bad about yesterday, and came to apologize.”

“I wasn’t mad at you, I was irritated with the disease,” Kokichi sighed.

That wasn’t too bad. That was along the lines of what I actually wanted to say.

Shuichi smiled wider, “Oh good!” he then backtracked, “Oh not good that you were irritated! It sucks that you are dealing with the despair disease! But good that we’re… good!”

Kokichi smiled weakly as he listened to the nervous boy’s ramblings. His head pounded more intensely as ever, and before he knew it, he fell back into his pillow and fainted.

As he drifted into blackness, he heard the boy exclaim in nervous confusion. He replied to quell his fear, or at least he tried.

“You’re so cute…when you’re worried about…me.”

------------

Kokichi was pulled back to the land of the living when he felt a sudden cold sensation on his head.

“Ah!”

“Oh he’s awake. Splendid.”

Kokichi opened his eyes to Kirumi’s face in front of his own.

“Aww. You’re not Shuichi.” Kokichi face flared red as the words escaped his lips.

“Oh, I’m r-right here... Kokichi,” the detective pulled his hat in front of his face to hide his blush as he answered.

Kirumi seemed unfazed by the interaction, “Keep the cold washcloth on his forehead and change it every few hours. His fever has gone down a bit. Now I must go help tend to Angie. Himiko and Tenko are having a difficult time.”

Shuichi thanked her as she left.

“So it is spreading after all?” Kokichi asked, with genuine curiosity.

“Y-yeah.”

“Well you should go so that you don’t catch it,” Kokichi said matter-of-factly.

And so I don’t say anything embarrassing. Stupid, cute Shuichi. This is all his fault.

“Do you really want me to go?”

Kokichi shook his head yes while his mouth said, “No…I’d like you to stay- UGH!”

Kokichi covered his eyes with his forearm and with an exasperated sigh said, “I hate this place. You know that? I hate it so much. I just want to go home.”

Shuichi gave the small boy a caring look, “You always act like you’re enjoying the killing game. Being here. I guess it makes sense that that would be a lie.”

“Yeah. Who would ever want to play a game that you’re forced to play?” He sat up and pouted at Shuichi.

The sight made the detective grin, “Well, the good thing is that you look like you feel better than yesterday!”

Kokichi placed his hands behind his head and leaned against his headboard, “I do feel better. Still can’t lie though! Neeheehee”

It’s not as clever or eloquent as what I was going to say, but I’ll take it! As long as I don’t say anything else embarrassing about Shuichi, I should be good!

“It’s good to hear your laugh again, Kokichi,” Shuichi grinned, “Now can I do anything for you?”

Ugh his smile is so sexy. Ignore it. You’re hungry right? Ask for some soup, Kokichi.

“You can kiss me!” Kokichi exclaimed.

That is not soup! Oh my fucking God, that’s not soup at all. Fuck fuck fucking shit fuck-

Shuichi leaned over and placed his lips on the supreme leader’s own, blushing all the while. It was just a second long peck, and then the detective pulled away and quickly pulled down his hat lower than either one of them thought it could possibly go.

“W-why did you do that, Shuichi?” A bewildered Kokichi stuttered.

“…Well you did t-tell me to…” Shuichi replied.

Kokichi frowned, “That’s so not a good answer.”

“It just made m-me so happy.”

“What?” Kokichi looked up in surprise. He saw that Shuichi eyes were wide and honest.

“The d-disease. I was so thrilled that you would have to tell the truth, because I could finally figure out what you really thought of me. I like you, Kokichi. You’re…fascinating. And then when you told me to kiss you…but you probably didn’t even mean to. I’m such a selfish person. You’ve been suffering and I’ve been taking advantage of that. I just w-wanted to be around you.”

A single tear rolled down the boy’s face. Kokichi reached out and slowly removed the detective’s hat to discover a messy mop of navy hair underneath. He also finally got a full view of Shuichi’s eyes.

They’re beautiful. From under the hat they looked grey, but as the florescent light hit, they shone a strange mix of silver and gold.

Kokichi reached out and wiped away the tears flowing from those eyes. He then leaned over and kissed the shaking boy’s lips. It was gentle and warm, very unlike Kokichi’s regular demeanor.

Shuichi’s eyes widened and he kissed back. He broke it again and stammered, “B-but…”

“Shuichi. I am so happy you’re here. And I’m actually happy that I had to tell you the truth. But I’m happiest of all that you kissed me.”

I had no intention of being this honest with him. I had no intention of being honest with him in the slightest. But in this case, the truth…it wasn’t so bad.

Shuichi grinned and tackled the smaller boy.

“Ugh, I am still sick, ya know!”

The two giggled and Shuichi planted a kiss on the ultimate supreme leader.

#oumasai #saiouma #omasai #saioma #danganronpa #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #wip #ask meme

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real-jaune-isms · 5 years

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Volume 7 Chapter 3 Review

My first time with this, it’s probably gonna be longwinded and awkward...

Starting off with 3 scenes basically happening at once is interesting. The airship flying them in to start the mission, Ruby and Jaune getting briefed on it, and the whole crew getting their gear upgrades. The briefing conversation plays over shots of them all getting their personal briefcases of stuff, and of some normal soldiers fighting smaller Grimm in the tundra. The new clothes scene is most important though. We see: Their happy faces, Blake and Jaune both pondering haircuts while Jaune runs his hands over the sash he kept from Pyrrha (ow my heart), Yang attaching her arm upgrade, and Ruby getting at a new cape before Oscar approaches her. Oh, and on the briefing screens RWBY and JNR are registered as civilian Huntsmen. They have their licenses!!!!

Let’s talk about the cape for a sec. Her red cloak has been an heirloom she’s kept for 6 volumes now and about 17 years. The last vestige of her mother. So is it really such a good idea for her to get a new one and just go with it? Is that abandoning the sentimental value and very essence of the original cape? It’s been worn and weathered since Volume 4, so an replacement or a stitch job would be good, but the latter would be ideal. I don’t really mind the new one so much because she asked for it and clearly she had a reason for that. It’s the exact same in every visual way as far as I could see, and she’s keeping the old one. The message is still alive in her wearing it, and times must change. It’s better to get a new one than risk damaging the original any more.

Anyway, after we see the few shots of them prepping for this mission, a very old Geist possessing a bunch of ice and hiding in a Dust mine, the airship doors open and we see the team in all their new glory. They jump out accompanied by the Ace Ops, and all make stylish landings. Ruby only uses her pogo gunshots to slow her descent, and Blake swings her weld fixed Gambol Shroud to Spider-Man swing around the buildings to land. But Weiss and Yang use their semblances to do it, and the aura percentages on Blake’s scroll later represent that accordingly. Good attention to detail. And we hear from Weiss that using your Aura can keep you from freezing, a good reason why they can all wear such stylish clothes and not die of frostbite.

After Clover checks in with all the groups about keeping in contact and keeping an eye on Aura levels, Blake catches Yang staring and they have an adorably awkward exchange about Blake’s haircut and how Yang likes it but doesn’t know how to express that. Marrow seems annoyed he has to watch a high school love story unfolding in front of him, but Harriet teases him about being childish and that shuts him up. They head toward the mine entrance, but Team RWBY hangs back to discuss how uncomfortable they all are with having lied to Ironwood last episode about Salem and the lamp. But Ruby reasons that they don’t know if Ironwood is in the right mindset for that bombshell right now and they WILL tell him soon. Fair enough. A flashback to Oscar’s interruption earlier reveals he’s pretty torn about it too since it’s exactly what they hated Ozpin for doing to them. Either way, they enter the mine and a comment about the path being blocked leads to a chilling realization. This is the mine that caved in and killed Ilia’s parents. This is why her life went so terribly, and it’s a major reminder of the awful relationship between humans and Faunus and how bad things can get. That prompts Weiss to try and apologize for her own bad attitude about it all in Volume 1, and some harsh truths from Marrow about complacency with injustice for the sake of living free of making those hard moral choices. Wise words, a lot to think about with this world and even our own.

But there’s no time for thinking about changing the world’s prejudices, they need to send Blake through a dark opening in the rubble to see if it’s safe for them to blast a hole big enough for everyone or if there’s any nearby Dust they might agitate. I get the whole faunus seeing better in the darker area of the cave thing but... couldn’t Marrow have done it too? Or was he too big and thicc and they had to send the lithe teenager? I tease, I tease. Height and muscle mass may be the legit reasons, plus her weapon is also less bulky. Before she goes in, both Blake and Yang see the SDC logo printed on some discarded boxes, likely a reminded of the last place they saw it: branded on Adam’s face. Not a good memory to recall in a tight situation, but it shows they’re still dealing with that. Good news is, when Blake goes through there’s no Dust on the other side. Bad news, the Geist gives a legitimate jumpscare that literally makes Blake jump back in surprise and pull her weapon to shoot at it. That of course clues the others in that she found something, and we see Harriet’s weapon as she deploys mechanized armor to go over her arms and boost her punching strength. Reminds me of the controls for a mech, fake arms you wear and move in the cockpit to move the real giant ones. But these have plenty of power all on their own and bust open the wall of debris. Makes sense to boost her upper body strength to counterbalance the power in her legs.

They chase the Geist into the mine until they encounter the new Centinel Grimm burrowing up from the ground. Team RWBY gets to show off their weapon upgrades/new moves as they dispose of them: Blake does a lot of slashing and stabbing as usual and Weiss does mostly the same plus shooting ice at the bugs and using glyphs to stop them from lunging. But the real stars seem to be Yang and Ruby. Yang added sticky bombs to her gauntlets’ arsenal, and Ruby can now spin Crescent Rose’s blade 180 degrees to slice a severed centinel half on her backswing. Cool. But Marrow shows off his own party tricks with his rifle that becomes a large blade edged boomerang and the ability to stop two Grimm still with nothing but a snap and the word “stay”. Clearly a reference to dog obedience training and possibly showing the power words can have, a reference to The Boy Who Cried Wolf, which I still believe he’s based on. All that kid had to do was say the word and the entire town came running to face a supposed threat. However, I’ve also heard that his inspiration is actually “A Dog and it’d Shadow”, which might suggest he’s going to go down a bad path for the sake of his own benefit... Regardless, Harriet zooms up and tosses the centinel against a wall, which seems to stop it. They report sighting the target and engaging with further hostiles to the others, who take that as a cue to speed things up. When next we see them, Harriet runs past Weiss and Ruby to take down the last Centinel with a single punch before Ruby had time to even take a shot at it. Instead of being petty about a kill steal, our little rose goes gaga over Harriet having a speed semblance like her, while the Hare of course boasts she seems to be faster based on Ruby’s reaction time. They suddenly hear Clover announce he’s fighting the Geist with Qrow, and when it eludes them too everyone converges in a central cavern.

Now let’s talk about JNR’s section of the mission until they meet up with the others. They make their jump too, Jaune having added Hard Light Dust to his shield and using it like Link’s paraglider in Breath of the Wild to float down gently, and then gravity Dust from the central crest to negate the final impact and bounce into a flip landing. Stylish~ We don’t see how, but Ren and Nora landed fine too. And their accompanying Ace Operatives Vine and Elm give rather indirect compliments, much to Jaune and Nora’s annoyance. As they walk through an ice tunnel and Vine reports its stability and their approximate time of convergence, Nora gushes about how exciting it all is before turning her enthusiasm on Ren. He handles a direct compliment about his new outfit about as well as Ren handles any show of emotion... he does not. He just tries to redirect the topic to the mission. Annoying to all the Renora shippers, absolutely, but also kinda his MO. His semblance, his very nature since the tragedy of Kuroyuri is to not get emotional because that can get them in trouble if it’s at the wrong time. He still needs to learn there are plenty of right times to have emotions, LIKE WHEN YOUR UNOFFICIAL GIRLFRIEND WANTS YOU TO RETURN THE COMPLIMENT!!! He better learn from that mistake... But at least there’s dense as a rock Jaune to compliment Nora instead and miss the point of what she was doing. The good boy is trying his best to be nice.

When they hear RWBY’s squad announce the fighting has started they start booking it and slide down an icy slope that’s revealed to have Centinels emerging at the bottom. Vine uses his semblance to stretch out and grab hold of the walls and Elm uses her’s to root her feet in the ground, both so they can stop moving toward the enemy. But that’s not JNR’s style, so they charge right into the Grimm and take them out quickly. A gravity burst shield bash from Jaune, new grappling hook mode for the blades on Ren’s guns, and Nora just bashes some skulls. This approaches earns another indirect compliment before they took finish the journey to the main mine cavern.

Meanwhile Qrow is with Clover and looking very cool in his new digs. They head in and discuss Qrow’s history of teamwork and how he doesn’t really do that anymore... cue sad STRQ vibes. Also he almost trips and Clover catches him, a perk of having someone at your side. After he gets the rundown from Elm, we don’t hear from thes two until they’re chasing down the Geist. It reaches its icy armored body, and gathers extra pieces from the walls around them. Qrow notices one bit it’s trying to get will pull down a support beam and warns Clover to stay back... just in time. The Geist gets away, but in its wake the two men share a conversation about Semblances. Qrow reveals his misfortune and how it burdens him to solitude or else situations like that one could go way worse. But Clover surprises him with the fact that his own Semblance is, of course... generating good luck.

The look Qrow gives him... a lot of people say it’s gay panic as he falls head over heels for this charming military man who can balance him out. I’ve come to see it a bit differently thanks to another post I saw. It’s regular panic. Panic and self-loathing, because he sees his perfect mirror image. Clover is sober, charismatic, a good leader, doesn’t ruin things with his very presence, and has skill and wisdom beyond anything Qrow has been able to demonstrate. This is everything he wishes he could have been for the kids from Volumes 4-6, the kind of huntsman he wants to have been at Beacon... a version of him who might have been able to keep Team STRQ together. But it might also be him getting a crush on a charming guy who balances him out. Regardless, they call everyone to meet up in the middle.

And meet up they do, the various types of Dust in the large central chamber having such effects as floating the dirt their boots kick up and evaporating a drop of Jaune’s sweat when it hits the ground. Cool set piece, though they need to be careful with how they fight otherwise they could set off the Dust and ruin the Amity Satellite launch site... and kill them. The Geist is hanging from a giant piece of ice jutting from the ceiling, and when the teams spot it the big boy dramatically drops down to fight them. Ruby panics upon seeing it added Dust to it’s body so they’ll have a harder time fighting it safely, but the Ace-Ops kick into action almost immediately. Elm and Vine use their Semblances to keep it in place and expose the Grimm joints between its ice limbs, which Marrow throws his weapon to sever. But that leaves some Dust crystals falling through the air, so the Flash gets the lightning in his eyes and speeds in to catch them before they hit the ground... Oops! I mean Quicksilver does his Days of Future Past thing to move around the falling debris at superspeed and grab the Dust... DAMMIT! I mean Harriet gets the lightning in her eyes and pulls a Days of Future Past to move around the falling debris at superspeed and grab the Dust. But the boomerang cuts another part of the arm and knocks more Dust off out of her reach. Lucky for them, Clover is there to catch it just in time. He passes the crystal to Qrow and jumps into the action.

The Ace-Ops continue to run around the Geist and to distract and disorient it, and they get the other arm off. With a flick of his lucky charm, Clover jumps up and loops his fishing line around the Geist’s mask face, and it actually hooks. What comes next brings a look of astonishment to Team RWBY’s faces. He pulls the Geist out of the ice by its face, and Harriet runs up its torso to give a jumping Shoryuken with her mech fists to kill the Grimm. But that leaves a lot of Dust crystals falling through the air, and the Ace Ops scramble to grab all of them. One remains and Harriet runs to get it... it’s a close call... and Ruby beats her to it. Who’s faster now?~ But much to Ruby’s surprise, upon seeing her in action Harriet claims Ruby’s Semblance is unlike any speed Semblance she’s ever seen, that there’s probably more to it than she realizes... or we do for that matter~ I can’t wait to see what they do with that. Yang points out that Ruby has an awful lot more going on in terms of power than Harriet realizes, earning a grin from Weiss and a very cute giggle from Blake. Regardless, mission accomplished and Qrow and Clover have a little banter over if Ruby’s catch was luck or talent. Glad to see the Atlas MVP’s acknowledge our Team has some skill of their own. Even happier to see Elm effortlessly put Ruby on her shoulder and carry her around to celebrate while Yang and Nora start dancing.

Next thing we know we’re back in Mantle as the police ship drops Forest off. He goes into an alley, where Tyrian suddenly appears under a flickering light to creep us all out and kill a short lived fan favorite character. RIP, good good protest boy.

And that’s pretty much it. Sorry it took a while.

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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Catch Me If You Can (8/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Have I ever mentioned how undeniably awesome that you guys are? Like, I absolutely cannot believe that there are people out there who keep reading these words that I’m slamming out. This story, I think, is probably my most planned out MC, and I’m too excited for you guys to get to see what’s going to happen!

Thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for being my beta, even if she did tell me that she was only doing it so that she didn’t have to wait for updates 💞

AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera@jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“How’s Roland?” Killian asks Robin as he tosses a ball in his direction, the two of them beginning their early morning workouts to loosen up their arms. It’s chilly this morning, the sea breeze wafting over to the field, but he’s not going to complain when this is his kind of weather.

Perfect.

Everyone should always have a bit of sea in the air they’re breathing even if the salt water gives him flashbacks to the accident if he closes his eyes for too long. Luckily, it’s usually not like that whenever they’re in San Francisco, the city too different than the beach town in Florida where the accident happened. And he’s got baseball to focus on, not memories of the past that he can already see in scars on his arm and feel in the pain in his shoulder.

“He’s currently mad at me for not letting him miss school to come out here with us.”

“Just get him a bobblehead. Kids love that. Addy and Lucy collect them now.”

Robin throws a ball at Killian, and it thwacks into his glove a little harder than he was expecting. Damn Locksley. “Roland only likes the Yankees. He gets pissed if anyone even mentions another team. I had to have a conference with his teacher about it because there were issues with other kids.”

Killian shouldn’t laugh, but he does, his shaking shoulders affecting his throw as he backs up to put some more space between he and Robin. “I mean, the kid is right. How could anyone ever love another team?”

“If you ever have kids, I’m going to make them Sox fans simply to torture you,” Robin teases. “Maybe even Dodgers fans.”

“That’ll never happen. Addy and Lucy wouldn’t let you.”

“I think I can overpower the two of them.”

Another toss, this one not as powerful as he was intending. “You’d be surprised. Roland could have flown out for the weekend, you know. I’m always happy to watch him on the days I’m not playing.”

“Carol hates flights. She wouldn’t fly out here with him, and we’re not about to let my six-year-old fly across the country unaccompanied.”

Killian nods his head as Robin throws the ball back, a soft thud landing in his glove. He and Robin have known each other for a decade now, and while Rob is probably his closest friend outside of Liam, he doesn’t share too much about his personal life since Marian died. He gets it. It was a tragedy, and Robin feels guilt over it since Marian’s car accident happened when she was on the way to pick him up from the airport when they’d been on the road for two weeks. Killian will never forget walking through JFK, simply happy to be home, and watching his best friend’s entire life crumple before him.

It was devastating, and Robin simply doesn’t talk about it. The only real reference to any of it is when Robin complains about Carol, Marian’s mom. They’ve got an unofficial custody agreement going on for when Robin has to travel for work, and Carol is always attempting to make Robin feel guilty for leaving Roland. It’s a shitty thing for her to do when there’s nothing Robin cares about more than his son, and Killian’s blood boils at the thought of it.

Parents are allowed to have lives and identities outside of their children. That doesn’t mean they don’t love their kids.

He’s not a parent, not even close, but maybe he’s a little sensitive to the thought because of Milah.

Milah.

It’s been…he doesn’t actually know when it is that he last thought of Milah. Wait, no, scratch that. It was after he kissed Emma. He’d been reeling after that, his body and his mind, and after Emma had walked away and told him that couldn’t happen again, his mind ran a marathon trying to piece together just how exhilarating it felt to actually feel something for someone for the first time in nearly four years.

He’d met Milah in a bar. He hadn’t wanted to go out that night, but Will had insisted. The season was over, they were pretty much free of all of the grueling work for at least a month, and they were going to celebrate. She’d been sitting at the bar, long, beautiful brunette curls falling down her back and a bright smile on her face, and he’d been intimately smitten. They’d talked all night, really hit it off, and it all felt natural from there. She was someone who he could tell, for probably the first time, that had no interest in the fact that he was a professional athlete. It was refreshing.

And he fell in love.

But she was married. By the time he found out, by the time that she told him, he was so deeply in love that he didn’t care. He was twenty-three, and he’d found the woman he was going to be with for the rest of his days, consequences be damned.

A year later, though, when he thought that things between them were good, when he’d grown used to the thought, she ended things between them and told him that she had a son. She wanted to go back to her husband, wanted them to be a complete family, and her time being free from her marriage and motherhood was over. It’s all a bit of a blur, that conversation, but he remembers begging her to stay, promising that he would help her take care of her son, that he would be there for the two of them always.

It’s not what she wanted.

He can’t blame her. She had a life outside of him, a life before him, and if she didn’t want to stay, he wouldn’t keep asking her to. So he didn’t.

Killian was too devastated to say anything, to try to fight for his love. She’d lied to him about so much, and he guesses a part of him knew that and knew that he couldn’t fight for someone who was never fully in the relationship the way that he was.

What he did do was start going back out to bars and clubs, drinking too much to numb the feeling and sleeping with too many women to try to get that feeling back. He was lost, desperate, and utterly heartbroken. No part of him cared about the reputation he was making for himself until Liam dragged him off of his bedroom floor and told him that he had to get his shit together before he lost the game too.

That scared him shitless.

There was no way that he could lose everything. Not like that. He needed his job. He needed the game. It was everything to him, and Killian knows that his desperation to cling to baseball after Milah is what made nearly losing it all after the accident so damn heartbreaking.

He’s been such a fuck up.

So why the hell would he ever have a shot with Emma now when she is leagues above him?

“Where’d your head go, Jones?” Robin yells across the field, and Killian realizes they’ve both backed up several feet without him knowing it. He knows that sometimes he can zone out on the field, but damn. This is something else. “You got all glassy-eyed for a minute.”

“Was my arm at least doing the right thing?”

“Eh, it could have been better.”

Killian rolls his eyes as he adjusts his grip on the ball before throwing it, letting it curve right into Robin’s glove. “You know, if you want to bring Roland out on one of our away series, there are plenty of people who would be willing to watch him. He wouldn’t be alone for a second. I can’t reiterate that enough.”

“I’ll think about it, but he’ll be with us for most of the summer anyways. So I think he’ll be alright. You about done for the day?”

“Two more.”

“Got it.”

They end up staying out there for at least ten more pitches between the two of them, each of them wanting a little more work, before walking back across the field to head inside and shower. Neither of them are playing today, but they still got here early enough for practice so that they’d have a bit of the afternoon free before they took stats for this afternoon’s game.

There’s something infinitely peaceful about an empty stadium, no crowds in their seats and only the sound of a bat cracking against a baseball or a ball thwacking into a glove. It’s what helps him get lost in his thoughts, and as he walks past the mound, he starts looking around into the seats and sees one lone person sitting several rows up.

Emma.

He’d recognize her anywhere in her jeans and red leather jacket, blonde waves falling over her shoulders as she looks to be writing in a notebook. He hasn’t seen her since they were in LA three days ago. He thought they were having a good conversation, a good night, up on the rooftop of the hotel, but then something flashed in her eyes, some kind of realization that made her need to leave.

Or want to leave.

No part of him understands her and yet he feels like he does. It’s comfortable talking to her, even outside of work. Maybe especially outside of work. And he finds that his stomach swoops and something unfamiliar gets caught in his throat whenever he’s around her. She makes him feel all of the things he hasn’t felt since Milah, and he doesn’t have a lot of clues as to what’s going on inside of her head. This could all be some kind of pipe dream, a relationship that’s not going to happen, but he has to be fine with that.

Whatever they become, if anything, is as much up to her as it is to him.

“You coming?” Robin asks him, and his head snaps toward his friend before looking back up at Emma.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

Rob clicks his tongue. “Just…don’t get in over your head, okay?”

It’s far too late for that kind of advice, but he nods his head anyways before walking over to the small barrier that keeps fans from getting onto the field, hoisting himself up over it, and then climbing over a few seats to try to get to where Emma is sitting. Al, Smee, and Archie would absolutely kill him if they knew he was unnecessarily climbing over things, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

Just him.

He’s two rows in front of Emma when he finally speaks. “You know, Swan, for someone who keeps running away from me, we sure do end up in all of the same places.”

She jumps, her ass literally moving away from the seat, and he chuckles a bit to himself as she pops her headphones out of her ears and looks down at him, green eyes flickering over him. She’s most likely thinking about how much of an asshole he is, but he does have a bit of unfinished business with her, the sweatshirt thief.

“It’s my job, twenty-nine.”

God, he loves when she calls him by his number. It’s got to be some kind of weird primal thing, but he’s going to try not to second guess it.

“Your job requires you to be at the stadium six hours early?”

She shrugs and writes something else down in her notebook. “I like the view.”

“Aw, love, you could have simply asked to see my ass in baseball pants if you wanted.” Emma rolls her eyes, but he can see the slightest smile forming on her lips that has him nodding his head to the seat next to her. “May I?”

“Yeah.”

Quickly, he climbs over two sets of seats until he’s sliding into the seat next to her, propping his feet up on the back of the chair in front of him so that his slightly muddy cleats are propped up next to Emma’s heeled boots, the water at the other side of the stadium in the background. It’d make a nice picture, something he’s sure is floating around out there, but he thinks he’d rather take in the view of it for now.

“I like the view too,” he admits, twisting his head to the side to look at Emma and the way that freckles scatter over her nose and how she bites on her bottom lip while she’s writing what seems to be some kind of notes for work. He’d rather like to bite that bottom lip as well. Nope. He cannot be thinking that. “It’s peaceful out here when no one else is around, when there’s no music playing or fans screaming. It really…it makes you realize how amazing having a job like this is.”

“It’s the dream, right?”

“Absolutely.” He nudges her shoulder into hers, the warmth of her skin somehow making it through her jacket. She kicks his foot in response. “So, I know you’re usually around most of the day, but when we travel, do you ever get to go around and explore the city? I always wish I had some more time to do that.”

Emma closes her notebook then, sticking her pen in the spiral and placing it on the ground beneath them before adjusting herself in her seat enough that her hand brushes against his, chill bumps rising on his skin. “I’m usually my own producer when on the road. Sometimes Ruby comes with me, but that’s rarer now. So I feel like I’m always doing something, especially because my stat keepers never get me reports in a timely manner. But yeah, sometimes I’ll get up early and wander around the city near the hotel. I very rarely get to do all of the tourist stuff, though. I don’t have the time.”

“It’s the first thing I did when I got called up out of the minors,” he admits, messing with his chain and pulling it to rest over his t-shirt. “I had never been on a plane before college. Hell, I’d never been out of Ohio and Kentucky, and in college we didn’t get a lot of freedom to explore. My coach was a hard ass.”

“Al’s not?”

“Only when we’re losing,” he chuckles, glancing over to see Emma smile. “But I pretty much hit every single cliché site that I could as soon as I had the money. I have far too many cheap keychains.”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“Do you also own an ‘I heart New York’ t-shirt?”

“Well, no, but I had to go buy a new jacket in LAX because someone stole my favorite sweatshirt.”

Blush rises on her cheeks, coloring her pale skin, and she reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Maybe he’s warming up to her today. She didn’t seem too happy to see him at first, and he obviously doesn’t know what boundaries are when it comes to her. “It’s a really comfortable sweatshirt. I think I’m going to keep it forever.”

He snorts at that and reaches up to stretch his arms behind his head, resting his neck in the cradle of his palms. “You know, love, I am a very charming man.”

“So you think.”

“So I know,” he corrects, kicking at her foot. “And as a charming man, I tend to make friends very easily, friends who can help me get into your hotel room so that I can get my sweatshirt back.”

“I think that’s called stealing. And possibly stalking.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you did with my sweatshirt.”

“That was offered.”

“I don’t think so,” he chuckles.

“Semantics.”

“That is not semantics, love.”

“It totally is,” she laughs, the sound echoing over the empty stadium as Eric and August start running laps around the field. “What time is your flight tonight?”

“Now look who’s stalking.”

“Shut up, Jones.” Infinitely charmed by her. Seriously. “I have the eleven o’clock to JFK as long as the game isn’t monstrously long. If you’re in the airport at the same time, I can give it back to you tonight. If not, I’ll see you back at home.”

“Funnily enough,” he sighs, letting his arm fall over the back of her chair so that his fingers brush over her shoulder and her hair, “I have the same flight with those same conditions since we apparently couldn’t get our charter plane for tonight. Thank goodness or I don’t know what I’d do without my sweatshirt. I obviously can’t travel without it.”

“You’re weird,” she huffs, twisting in her seat so that they’re facing each other, noses less than half a foot apart so that he can smell the mint on her breath. “Everyone thinks that the great Killian Jones is all suave and smooth, but you’re a little dorky.”

He winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Emma’s lips press into a soft pink smile, and his mind flashes back to the kiss and how it felt to have those lips moving over his, how it felt to have her body pressed into his. It was exhilarating, made him literally lose his breath, and he aches to do it again. He could do it again if he leaned forward right now.

But he won’t.

“Emma.”

She blinks several times, her eyelashes brushing against her cheeks. “What?”

“Are we going to talk about the fact that we kissed?”

And there it is. There’s the elephant in the room. There’s the elephant in the whole damn stadium.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t talk about it?”

“I can’t do it again.”

“I didn’t – ”

She backs up from him without moving from her seat, and he feels his rapidly beating heart drop to his stomach.

Oh.

“I know that there’s a…thing between us,” she continues, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. “I’m not dumb. I’ve dated before. I know how it all starts, and I know that I do have…something for you, but I can’t date you, Killian. I just can’t.”

What a way to get his hopes up and crush them all in one sentence.

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “Because of your job, right?” he prods, the answer seemingly falling into his lap. “God, Swan, I’m sorry. I’m – I’m a fucking idiot, okay? It doesn’t matter how much I know that I’m screwing up with you, I just keep doing it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not…” Emma sighs, something loud and unfortunate and that’s really more of a groan before she leans forward and buries her face in her hands. “I’m really shitty at talking to people, so I’m just going to pretend that you’re not here, okay? Like the grown adult woman that I am.”

“Whatever works, love.”

“I really love my job,” she mumbles into her hands. “Like, I love it. I may not be like you getting to live some childhood fantasy come to life, but I love what I do. I’ve lucked into a lot of things, but I’ve also worked hard for it. People have shit on me about it for so long. People I know. People I don’t. And it’s just – I mean, you know about so much stuff that’s happened after you asked me out. You know how much harassment I’ve gotten, so if I’m seen spending time with you or kissing you, I’m going to get so much shit. I’m going to have every single person question my integrity, my ethics, my ability to do my job. And then what? If we break up, I just know that’s all anyone is going to care about as I work with the team and try to do my job. I want to, Killian. I do. I just don’t think that I can. Dating people I work with is a not so great idea.”

That is the most he’s ever heard Emma Swan talk at one time, and he’s still catching up trying to take in everything that she just said and figure out how exactly it is he wants to respond to it.

Mostly, he wants to punch every single person who has ever made her feel shame about what she does for a living, but he imagines that’s the wrong answer.

“I’m sorry,” he finally replies, knowing that it’s not enough. “I’m…I still hate myself for putting you in the position that I did. I respect the hell out of you, Swan, and anyone who doesn’t is a fucking asshole who doesn’t deserve your time. I would never ask you to do something you didn’t want to or something that makes you uncomfortable. I should have…I’ll keep my distance.”

He gulps down the emotion in his throat, taking a deep breath to try to regulate his heartbeat, and stands from his seat, climbing down to the row in front of Emma so that he can get up and walk away. He still needs to take a shower, and this is obviously not a conversation that either one of them want to be having.

“You don’t,” she starts, leaning back in her chair and moving her hands away so that she can her face and the lightness of her eyes. “You don’t have to do that. I like you, Killian. I am obviously a crazy person for admitting that out loud, but I do. I mean, hell, I kissed you. I just…I don’t know what to do about any of it because I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you and mess my career up for someone I don’t know super well.”

The most idiotic idea he’s ever starts to form in his mind, and he’s sure Emma is going to laugh him out of the stadium if he says it. She has to. There’s no other possible reaction to it.

“I know how to keep my life private now, love,” he starts, his fingers working furiously at a spot on his chin. “It’s something I learned after I – well, after I was a little more publicized. And if you’re willing, maybe we could test the waters between us but not tell anyone? I don’t have to tell my family or my mates. You don’t have to tell your friends. The public doesn’t have to know. It’ll just be until we know if we’re working out.”

Emma throws her head back and laughs, something light and joyful and maybe a little deranged, and it’s the exact reaction he was expecting.

The exact.

“Are we a romantic comedy now? Secret dating?”

“I like to think I’m both romantic and comedic, so possibly.”

She wipes her fingers underneath her eyes, a bright smile on her face. Okay, so that wasn’t really what he was expecting. Maybe a little more anger. “You’re serious?” she questions.

“I mean, I know it sounds kind of ridiculous, but if we both want this, why not at least give it a shot?”

“You’re crazy.”

“That’s not the first time that I’ve heard that.”

“So what? Do we go on a date? In one of our apartments? I have roommates.”

“I don’t. And technically I told you I wouldn’t ask you out again, and I don’t want to break that promise.”

Emma rolls her eyes, happiness still painted across her face, and he swears that his heart may as well be glowing like he really is in some kind of romantic comedy. How did he ever forget the feeling of having someone return his affections? It’s been too damn long.

“Are you serious? You’ll propose dating without anyone knowing, but you won’t ask me out on a date?”

“It’d be bad form to go back on my promise.”

“Sometimes I think you’re meant to be a British man from several centuries ago with the way you talk”

“That’s…interesting. Not going to question it, though. So, Swan,” he encourages, placing his hands on the back of the seat in front of him and leaning into her space, “do you want to ask me something?”

Emma chews on her bottom lip, her eyes glancing around him before finally looking at him so that all he can see is green, green, green.

“Fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms like he’s putting her out like this. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Eh. A man likes to be courted, and I’m just not sure how good you’ll be at that.”

“I will hurt you.”

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, stepping up onto the chair in front of him until he’s back on level with Emma, reaching forward to grab her hand and pull her up out of her seat so that they’re nearly eye level. “Of course I will go on a date with you. Just, come here.”

“Come where?”

He tilts his head to the side before threading his fingers through hers and walking to his right, stepping over discarded beer bottles and hot dog wrappers that haven’t been cleaned up yet, until he’s got he and Emma hidden behind a support pole, none of the players on the field able to see the two of them.

Emma’s chest is visibly heaving, her lips parted and cheeks flushed, and he reaches up with his free hand to tuck her loose hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing skin in a way that lights him up and causes a shiver to run down the length of his spine.

This isn’t real. There’s no way it can be.

“Killian,” she whispers as he leans in a little closer, his forehead resting against hers and their noses brushing together. He’s still holding her hand. Why is that what he’s focusing on? “Why did you just tug me away from my seat and make me hide behind this gigantic pole?”

“Because I’m going to kiss you.”

“Are you?”

“I was planning on it.”

“I kind of like this plan. I mean, I – ”

He doesn’t let her finish talking, dipping his head down and surging forward to press his mouth into hers and finally feel the softness of her lips against him. Emma gasps, and he can tell that she wants to keep talking, but then she’s parting her lips a little so that he can swipe his tongue against the seam. Killian can feel her pressed into every part of him, can feel those hard lines and soft curves, and his hand snakes into her hair to help guide the kiss all the while her free hand holds onto his t-shirt. It’s slower, softer than their first kiss. A need to keep going, to keep deepening, is there, but he takes it slow as he never wants this to end.

This is damn well near perfect.

Most definitely the best end to a practice that he’s ever had. Honestly, he’d be more likely to show up on time if this was guaranteed.

Emma nips at his bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue, and a growl comes from the back of his throat before he’s pulling back and opening his eyes as his nose brushes against Emma’s. He’d like to keep doing that.

“I feel kind of crazy right now.”

“I feel kind of crazy at all times.”

“Well, that dos fit your personality type.”

He leans in to quickly brush his mouth over Emma’s simply because he can. “That’s the kind of swoon worthy thing I’m looking for as you court me.”

“Again, you’re a man from another century.”

“But I’ve obviously retained my youthful glow.” There’s a crack of a ball against a bat behind them, and he turns to see that the Eric is now practicing with Roseman. It brings reality back to him for a minute, and he sighs, pulling back from Emma a little more as his thumb runs over her knuckles. “We should probably both get back to work.”

“Probably.”

“Are you freaking out right now?”

“No,” she says, the lie obvious on her lips. All he has to do is raise his brow for her to crack. “Okay, yeah, a lot. I feel like this is going to blow up in our faces.”

“Aye, I know.” He brings their hands up to his lips and presses a kiss on the back of her hand. “Just…Emma, can you trust me?”

“I want to.”

“Give me a shot, and if you decide against it, that’s it. We don’t have to try this anymore, and I give you full permission to slander my name in the public eye.”

“That’s a lot of power you’re giving me there.”

“I’m a dumb man.”

Her eyes scrunch up with her smile, her nose too, and it feels damn good to get that out of her. “I’ll see you at the airport tonight, right?”

“Absolutely.”

-/-

The lights are already dimmed in the plane cabin when he slides into the seat next to Emma, jostling her as she looks away from the movie, she’s watching to look at him, surprise evident in her features.

“What the hell, twenty-nine?” she whispers, trying not to wake anyone up. “You are most definitely not the little old woman who was my seatmate.”

“Louise is now happily sitting in first class.”

“Are you serious? How did you do that?”

“Darling, I don’t know about you, but most people don’t turn down free seat upgrades when they get the chance. Besides, I told you I’m charming and make friends all over.”

“You’re weird is what you are,” she laughs, adjusting her blanket over her lap and offering him some of it so that he covers his legs as well. Emma Swan brings her own blankets with her when she travels. Noted. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to talk yourself into getting another one of those cookies from a flight attendant, would you?”

His lips curl up on the side. “I could, but that would require me flirting with another woman.”

“I mean, you already undoubtedly flirted with Louise.”

He snickers, having to turn to the side to bury his mouth in his shoulder to quiet it so no one around them notices. Everyone is asleep or tuned into their movie, and he takes comfort in that.

“Tell you what, Swan. I’ll get you a cookie if you finally give me my sweatshirt back.”

“Oh, so you noticed that, did you?”

“You’re literally wearing it right now.”

“It’s comfortable.”

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“I know.” Emma shuffles again, seemingly uncomfortable in her seat, but then he feels the warmth of her hand wrapping around his, and she’s twining together their fingers before placing them in her lap under the blanket. “I really was going to give it back when we were waiting by our gate, but I figured it was too obvious in front of the whole damn team.”

“This is true. We’ve got to work on this discreet thing.”

“Trading seats with little old ladies to sit next to me probably doesn’t help.”

“I think it’s worth it.”

“You’re cheesy.”

“I’m a man of many facets.”

“So I’m learning,” she yawns, closing her eyes for a minute. “I’ll give you the sweatshirt back before we land. I promise. You want to watch this movie with me?”

“I think that sounds like a good plan.”

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan

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srbachchan · 5 years

Text

DAY 4019

SitRfchyd Mar 15, 2019 Fri 9:36 pm

Birthday - EF - Kalpana Kakade .. Saturday, March 16 .. greetings for the birthday and wishes for happiness ever ..

मज़हब नहीं सिखाता , आपस में बैर रखना .. mazahab nahin sikhaata aapas mein bair rakhna .. Religion does not teach us to bear animosity among ourselves

"Sare Jahan se Accha" (Urdu:سارے جہاں سے اچھا; Sāre Jahāṉ se Acchā), formally known as "Tarānah-e-Hindi" (Urdu:ترانۂ ہندی; "Anthem of the People of Hindustan"), is an Urdu language patriotic song written for children by poet Muhammad Iqbal in the ghazal style of Urdu poetry. The poem was published in the weekly journal Ittehad on 16 August 1904. Publicly recited by Iqbal the following year at Government College, Lahore, British India (now in Pakistan) it quickly became an anthem of opposition to the British Raj. The song, an ode to Hindustan—the land comprising present-day Bangladesh, India and Pakistan, was later published in 1924 in the Urdu book Bang-i-Dara.

The song has remained popular, but only in India. An abridged version is sung and played frequently as a patriotic song and as a marching song of the Indian Armed Forces.

... returning back from work and facing the horror of the times of today and many days .. peace quiet and the solace of happiness robbed again from many .. there is the want to bring cheer and a smile .. but it gets laden with the weight of such immense depression ..

.. and normalcy shifts back a few steps , to attempt again .. not knowing what lies in store .. except the purity of prayer ..

Life shall be shorter for me than the many others that shall live a longer and full life .. may they be safe .. may they spend their times in the joys of togetherness, love and friendship .. and may they leave, as we hope we can, a world that can be the envy of those that have gone by ..

Time ends here again by the morrow, and travel shall replace the addresses above .. the destination of home and the schedules of work shall place themselves at varied levels, and efforts shall prevail to accomplish that which remains in some incompleteness ..

Many of the Blog Ef that comment here and make it readable for me, say they are at times unable to make out the text of the writings and their meanings despite repeated attempts ..

It is not an encumbrance .. for there can be an attempt to resolve this rather sticky issue ..

May I ..?

This is ..

DAY 4018

StrRCiShba Mar 14, 2019 Thu 10:30 PM

Birthday - EF - Amita Fatima Zohra Daheur .. Friday, March 15 .. happy greetings for a happy day - a birthday dear Amita .. lots of happiness and love from us all here at the Ef Center .. !!

.. UPTO HERE it IS ALL CLEAR SURELY ..

Some thoughts drift through during the course of the day and before long they occupy every corner of the mind that thinks matters follows creates .. what ever .. and then suddenly .... it all collapses .. .. into an unforgivable tragedy .... and all that one had ever licensed itself to express, drives the thought winds out of that enclosed environ .. into sombre feel and remorse ..

I AM WISHING TO SAY THAT DURING THE DAY WHEN AT WORK I AM THINKING OF MY LINES FOR THE SHOT IN A SCENE BUT AM ALSO THINKING WHAT SHALL I BE WRITING ON THE BLOG .. AND MANY HAPPY AND INTERESTING IDEAS FORMULATE .. BUT BY THE TIME I SIT MYSELF DOWN IN FRONT OF THE LAPTOP, I COME TO KNOW OF THE HORORS AROUND THE WORLD AND ABOUT, AND IT DAMPENS THE PROCESS OF WHAT I SHOULD BE PUTTING OUT ..

There is ever much that transpires around .. ever much that warrants expression .. a release , an outburst , an unending cry of anguish at most times ..BUT .... there is the evil of restraint .. the command of shut .. the devils of retrospect

I AM SAYING AND MEANING HERE , THAT THERE IS SO MUCH THAT TRANSPIRES DURING THE DAY FOR ME .. A VIDEO TEAM FOLLOWS ME IN WHATEVER I DO .. WHEN I RETURN I VIEW IT AND WANT TO PUT IT ALL OUT FOR MY EF .. BUT WHEN I HEAR AND READ OF THE TRAGEDIES, I FEEL THE NEED TO RESTRAIN MY EXPRESSIONS .. TO CLOSE THOSE IDEAS THAT FORMED EARLIER IN THE DAY, AND THINK BACK ON WHAT TRANSPIRED , IN THE PRESENT AND ALSO IN THE PRESENT TO BE VIEWED IN RETROSPECT .. TO LOOK BACK AND SHARE THAT MOMENT TOO ..

..Retrospection revives past deeds .. some in humoured good , some in not so .. the not so is the fear of expressive release at the times of the time .. and by then the times have long past .. at times even forgotten ..

SO .. I AM SAYING THAT WHEN YOU THINK BACK, IN RETROSPECT , THE EVENTS THE MOMENTS COULD BE HAPPY AND FILLED WITH JOY, AND SOME NOT .. THE FEAR OF THIS IS THE MEDIUM .. THE MEDIUM BEGINS TO JUDGE YOU BY WHAT YOU PUT OUT .. AND SOME OF WHAT YOU WANT TO PUT OUT HAS PASSED ITS TIME, AND FORGOTTEN ..

What then could ever be the condition or codes of expressive conduct towards that which now exists beyond decades .. what ..?..

SO .. HOW SHOULD ONE EXPRESS ONESELF .. WHAT SHOULD BE THE WAY OF PUTTING IT ALL ACROSS .. EVERYTHING THAT IS PUT OUT, AS I SAID MAY NOT BE PALATABLE TO THE ENTIRE EF .. SO DOES ONE USE CODES TO CONVEY , OR WHAT .. OR ..

hehe .. there never is an answer .. is there .. NEVER ..

THERE REALLY IS NEVER AN ANSWER TO THIS WHICH CAN BE UNIVERSALLY ACCEPTED .. AND IF I CLAIM TO BE UNIVERSAL, UNBIASED, OF NO CONTROVERSY .. WHICH IS HOW I WOULD LIKE IT TO BE - LIKE IT OR NOT - THERE IS NEVER A CORRECT ANSWER OR QUESTION ..

THIS PLATFORM IS NOT TO WEATHER THE STORMS OF THE VARIOUS MODES THAT WE ARE EXPOSED TO EACH DAY THROUGH REGULAR MEDIA OR CONVERSATIONS OR EXPRESSIONS OF OTHERS .. IT IS NOT A SPACE TO DEFY DEBATE .. I WISH IT TO BE A PLEASANT CONVERSATION BY THE FIRESIDE EACH EVENING .. WHEN I SEE AND HEAR ABUSE AND ANGER AND UNWANTED BICKERING, I AM SO SADDENED THAT IT BRINGS ME SLEEPLESS NIGHTS .. THIS PLATFORM WAS AND IS FORMED BY LOVE FOR LOVE .. WHEN IT BREAKS THAT BARRIER, IT BREAKS MY HEART AND MY SPIRIT .. YES MANY WRITE AND EXPRESS ANGUISH OR COMPLAIN .. BUT THIS IS NOT A COURT OF LAW .. NOR IS IT A DESTINATION TO BRING OUT PERSONAL CASTE CREED RELIGION ISSUES .. WE ARE A ONE SINGULAR FREE AND HAPPY FAMILY .. AND THAT IS HOW I WISH IT TO BE .. IF YOU ARE NOT IN AGREEMENT .. YOU ARE FREE TO LEAVE ..

I SHALL WRITE EVEN WHEN THERE IS NO ONE LISTENING, NO ONE READING , NO ONE COMMENTING ..

I NEVER DID EVER INVITE ANY OF YOU HERE .. WHEN YOU CAME YOU CAME ON YOUR OWN .. I LOVED THAT AND STILL DO , AND SHALL EVER !

BUT IF YOU BRING COMPLAINT AND DISAGREEMENT AND DISRUPTION, I AM NOT INTERESTED AND NEVER WILL BE .. !!!!

AND TODAY I SHALL PUT OUT A COMMENT WRITTEN BY A WELL WISHER THAT WROTE IN TO MY DAUGHTER AFTER ORDERING THAT ICON 50 YRS T-SHIRT .. IT SHALL BE AT THE END OF THIS MISSIVE ..

I tug at my prosthetic left overs and bring in the wonder of this and that and many more .. but am at a distance in understanding .. .. do I need to ..yes perhaps I should .. and therein lies the dilemma .. what and who and which to bring into the uplight of the front .. to some it shall disturb to some cheer to some moan in agonising lament and to some the calm of silence ..calm of silence ..yes a silence to wring out the limitations of the output .. to witness its reverberations, not just on us but mostly on the other .. the other is ever present even when not .. and that is the state to worry .. worry for they pick and adjust to what they wish not what was in its meaning true, but that which stays in the meanings of them .... it be not a curse of modern communication .. it be the world of the times ..Progressive, pertinent, promising, persistent, painstaking, permissive, petulant, primed, prickly, painful .. and eventually referred to in the past tense !I am honoured to be in the company of them that favour expression of every rhyme and reason ..

MUCH OF THIS HAS BEEN EXPLAINED RATHER DELIBERATELY AND EXACTLY IN THE PREVIOUS EXPLANATION ..

I CARE FOR WHAT I EXPRESS .. I CARE FOR IT NOT TO HURT ANY .. I CARE FOR IT TO BRING ALL OF US CLOSER IN LOVE .. TO OVERCOME THE WRETCHED DEBATES ON LIFE AND LIVING AND INCIDENTS THAT ARE SO SO DISTURBING AND TERRIFYING AND SIMPLY UNACCEPTABLE ..

WHAT WILL I GET IN GIVING AND EXPRESSING MY GRIEF .. WILL IT STOP .. WILL IT WILL IT TO NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN .. WILL IT ..??

IT SHALL ONLY BECOME MELODIOUS CONTENT FOR THEM THAT MAKE COMMERCE OUT OF IT .. ONCE THE COMMERCE HAS BEEN SUCKED TO ITS BEST BOTTOM LINE FINANCIAL REPORT, THEY SHALL MOVE ON TO THE NEXT TOPIC .. ANOTHER TOPIC THAT SHALL HAVE THE CAPACITY TO FORM ANOTHER MUCH NEEDED CONTENT FOR THEIR RESPECTIVE VEHICLES .. YOU MY EF ARE NOT VEHICLES, NOR CONTAINERS OF CONTENT .. YOU ARE MY LOVE AND MY NEAREST DEAR .. TO HOLD TO EMBRACE TO LAUGH AND TO SMILE IN UNISON .. YES IN UNISON ..

BECAUSE WHEN WE LAUGH AND EXPRESS IN UNISON , IT BRINGS THE GREATEST JOYS TO MY EXISTENCE ..

WHEN YOU STOP IT .. THAT IS AND SHALL BE YOUR WISH .. I SHALL MISS YOU, REMEMBER YOUR PRESENCE OF THE BETTER TIMES AND MOVE ON .. THE BAD AND THE UGLY SHALL NEVER INVADE MY BEING ..

THANK YOU ..

.. and now I wish to put out that which has been written by well wisher .. a moment which i agree upon .. its been titled The Icon .. a term I absolutely disagree with and hate .. but there it is :

“The ICON

Grandiose doesn’t define him With love and prayers He is fortified. One amongst us Is his place Sincere in his humility Is his grace Let him be... With his thoughts And his work Let him be... With whom he loves And those who care. A gifted man Knows where he stands He doesn't seek veneration He doesn't seek adulation Just like us, He seeks joy Just like us, He feels the strain. Fanfare doesn’t sway him Grandiose doesn’t define him With love and prayers He is fortified. One amongst us Is his place Sincere in his humility Is his grace Let him be... With his thoughts And his work Let him be... With whom he loves And those who care.”

Amitabh Bachchan

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

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Finding You Always

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Chapter 204: Change in the Tides

By the time they got back to the office, their top analyst had pulled everything that his David's boss had asked for and they gathered in the conference room with him. The guy, Trevor, was your typical analyst, David supposed. Introverted, yet quirky and sporting a look that might be described as a nerdy hipster hybrid. He was a nice kid, but he always looked at him weird, like he was trying to figure him out. And finally, after two years, David decided to say something while his boss was on the phone.

"You know...if you want to ask me something, you should just do it, because the staring is getting creepy," David said, without looking up from the report he was reading. The young man fidgeted and looked embarrassed.

"I'm...I'm sorry, you just look really familiar. Have you ever been to Seattle?" Trevor asked.

"Like on a case?" David asked.

"Uh...no, like have you lived there?" Trevor replied. David shook his head.

"Can't say that I have," David said.

"You sure?" he asked. The blonde sighed.

"Do you really think I wouldn't remember living somewhere?" he asked. The analyst shrugged.

"Maybe...weird stuff happens," he said and watched David, almost like he was trying to gauge his reaction.

"I think you're spending a little too much time on the dark web," he quipped, as Pat hung up her phone.

"Okay...what do you have?" she asked.

"A really long list," Trevor replied, as an endless list of names filled the large television sized screen.

"Good God…" Pat lamented.

"Do you think we can rule out a female perp?" David asked. She tilted her head in consideration.

"Normally I don't like to assume when it comes to serial killers, especially since I think this is less about killing and more about experimentation...but the violence in the death would suggest a male perpetrator," she replied.

"Though a woman definitely would naturally be easier for our victims to trust and be comforted by," David pointed out. She sighed.

"Okay...let's not rule out females yet. But I think we can rule out educators without any doctorates. The level of sophistication in this drug likely means that we're dealing with someone highly intelligent," Pat said, as Trevor put in those specifications and unfortunately, the list didn't get much shorter. She sighed.

"Highly intelligent...like a genius," David muttered, as something pricked the back of his mind at that.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"Well...it's pretty well known that sometimes there can be a fine line between genius and insanity," David replied, as he looked back at the screen.

"Just give us the people with three or more doctorates," he said. Trevor did as he asked and the list got significantly shorter, though still a good sized list.

"That's still a lot of over-achievers," Pat commented.

"But manageable. Seventy-three names between the five universities," he said, with a sigh.

"Okay...the rest of the team is on another case, so it's the three of us. Trevor, print out all these profiles. I'll order us lunch and good coffee, not that sludge out in the squad room," she said.

"I'm going to call Margaret and check in with her," David said, as he took his phone out and stepped out of the room.

Meanwhile, Trevor hit print on the very large file and then pulled up a website he had been looking at earlier. The date was from about seven years ago and was an article about the strange weather event that had occurred in Seattle that day. At least, a weather event was what the government tried to explain it away as. Many bought the official story, but there were a lot of people that didn't. Conspiracy theorists were still going strong on the web with speculative explanations for that day and he had always been fascinated by so-called fringe topics.

So Trevor had been extremely surprised when he ran across an article about a Detective David Nolan and his wife Margaret. He had read the entire sordid story about them and was enthralled by the whole thing, especially when many conspiracy theorists claimed that this David and Margaret Nolan weren't who or what they appeared to be.

After disappearing all those years ago, the rumors of where these strange people went were as wild and outlandish as they could possibly get. And then like they had never left, they had seemed to surface again, right here in Boston this time. And so far, he seemed to be the only one that noticed. For now...at least until he could be sure it was them. If it was, something strange was going on, because he didn't think David was lying about never living in Seattle, for he genuinely seemed to not remember. It was very curious and he decided to do more digging when he had a chance.

~*~

"Hey you…" Margaret answered, as he dialed her.

"Hey beautiful…" he said, feeling solace just at the sound of her voice.

"I take it you're still at the office?" she asked.

"I am...but I wanted to call you. I just...need to hear your voice," he replied.

"Is it a bad case?" she asked.

"Yeah...it's bad. I guess they're always bad. Hopefully, we'll make some progress though," he replied.

"I know you will...you're the best at what you do," she said.

"Only because I have you. I love you so much," he said.

"I love you too, please be safe…" she pleaded.

"I will...I'll see you tonight," he promised, as he hung up the phone and went back into the conference room, as Trevor put the stacks of paper on the desk.

"Okay...let's eliminate some names and find some possible suspects," Pat said, as they went back to work.

~*~

Fandral and Charming dueled furiously that afternoon and the latter found himself on his back, not for the first time that day. Charming growled and got to his feet again.

"I know I'm stronger, but I never beat you this easily...there's something eating at you," Fandral said, as he knocked him down again.

"It's nothing…" Charming snapped, as they went back to dueling, only for him to end up shadow boxing with the Asgardian.

"You are never this sloppy," Fandral chided, as he won the duel and Charming stalked off to the side to grab a towel.

"It's Mephisto...he is getting more and more suspicious. I fear what he may do," Charming said.

"If he figures out what we're doing...the consequences will be catastrophic. But if Jekyll has found his way to Snow...you know it won't be long until the curse unravels," Fandral reasoned.

"If our ruse is discovered too early...it won't matter, you know he will go after the ones we love first," he reminded him. Fandral sighed.

"I hate to...but perhaps it's time Rose and I seek help from Sif and Thor," the Asgardian said.

"But I thought Hermes said she was unable to access the All World River with the curse in tact?" he asked.

"She is...but that restriction wouldn't apply to the bi-frost. If I can...somehow get a message to Thor some way, getting his assistance may be possible. I have no idea how we're going to do that, but Rose may be able to find something in her books," he replied.

"It's a long shot, but the back up would be welcomed. Until then...we just have to hope my other half wakes the hell up soon," he growled.

"You know when it comes to protecting Snow that he will come through. The moment he senses something is off with that deranged doctor, it will accelerate his awakening," Fandral reasoned.

"Let's hope so...keeping up this charade is getting harder by the day and Mephisto needs to be dealt with...once and for all," Charming stated.

"I'll return to Rose and we'll work on getting a message through to Sif," he said, as he left through a portal back to Andresia. Charming sighed deeply and had it not been for the love of his sweet, beautiful Winter, he knew the burden he was carrying upon his shoulders would have crushed him long ago.

With that, he disappeared through a portal back to their palace and sought her out. But what he found in his own Throne room chilled him to the bone…

~*~

Winter gently kissed her baby granddaughter and lay her in the crib in the nursery they kept in their palace for her. She was happily watching her for Emma this afternoon; something she did often and did with great joy.

"Sleep well my little one," she whispered, as she quietly exited the nursery and went down the winding staircase. She wore a beautiful, shimmering silver and black dress, truly looking the part of the Queen she was. But she gasped suddenly when Mephisto appeared before her suddenly and grabbed her arm. She cried out, as he yanked her down the stairs and tossed her to the ground at his feet.

"Where is your idiot husband, wench?!" he growled. She glowered at him and managed to get to her feet.

"My husband is none of your business and I don't think I have to tell you what he will do to you when he finds out you dared to even touch me," Winter retorted. The demon surprised her again though back angrily backhanding her and sending her crashing to the floor again.

"Answer the question, you little bitch!" he growled.

"He constantly disappears and I know he's up to no good. Tell me where he is now!" he roared. Winter got to her feet and glared at him.

"If you must know, my Charming is on a training retreat with some of his men," she lied.

"I don't believe you...all your soldiers are accounted for. I checked," he snapped.

"The retreat is in Andresia. He is overseeing a training exercise with Fandral," she said without missing a beat.

"Such was not mandated by our Lord," Mephisto replied.

"Charming oversees all the armies, you know that. He has full approval to make sure everything is in order in each Kingdom," she refuted. Mephisto was silent at that, for it was true. She whimpered though when the frightening demon King grabbed her arm and pulled her close.

"You will tell me the truth now...or bad things are going to happen to you and the brat upstairs," he warned and her breath hitched, as his hand slithered to her cheek.

But he was suddenly and thankfully ripped away from her and her husband began to pummel the demon angrily with his fists.

"How dare you even think of touching her?!" he growled, as he kicked him away. He was about to charge him again when Seth appeared.

"My Lord...he just attacked me!" Mephisto claimed.

"My Lord...I found him threatening to harm my Queen and he dared to put his hands on her!" Charming growled, as Winter sided up to him and he pulled her into his arms.

"Then he was sufficiently punished. You will do no more," Seth decreed.

"My Lord...he struck her. He must pay for it with his life," Charming insisted. But Seth raised his hand.

"You will not kill him today," he ordered and Charming reluctantly obeyed. Mephisto smirked, as he stood up.

"I will not intervene next time, Mephisto. Please keep your hands off the lovely Queen Snow or I'll allow him to dispatch you accordingly," Seth warned. Mephisto bowed deeply.

"I understand, my Lord," he said.

"Come...both of you," he called to the Charmings.

"I wish to make an impromptu visit to Camelot," he said.

"Of course, my Lord," Charming replied, as he offered his arm to his wife. They quickly called Eva, who arrived promptly to watch Hope, and they were off to Camelot with Seth. Mephisto seethed, as they left. He was more determined than ever to expose their treachery and he was about to do take the first step into doing just that.

Mephisto entered Nephilim and observed his new charges, training with their new powers. The entire training room was lit ablaze in their practice, evidence of their rage.

"Well? Did you find anything that might expose him?" Arthur questioned.

"No...but I knew I wouldn't. You could torture that little wench and she'd never loosen her tongue when it comes to her beloved," Mephisto replied.

"Then what was the point?" Gawain questioned.

"To set Charming on edge. Nothing gets under his skin faster than harming his lovely Winter," Mephisto answered.

"But if he is on edge, he may be even more dangerous. He knows you're going to try something," Arthur stated.

"He knows I am...but he won't be expecting the two of you. It's time to make a visit to Camelot," Mephisto responded.

~*~

Margaret checked her list and checked off one more thing, as she looked in the boxes. The science fair was tomorrow already, but fortunately, she was just about ready. Some of her students had helped her set up the heavy tables in the gym and all the supplies were waiting in tubs.

"My, my...it seems you have nearly everything under complete control," Dr. Jenkins said, as he entered with a box full of beakers and test tubes.

"I think we should be ready for tomorrow," Margaret replied, as she looked around.

"I could have never been ready for this without your help, Margaret," he said with admiration.

"It's no trouble...I love organizing events. My husband likes to joke that I should have been an event planner," she said.

"Well, I think you'd be good at anything, though I think you're a bit too brilliant to be something like an event planner. I have viewed your work, after all. I am a bit surprised that you never went for your doctorate," he mentioned. She shrugged.

"I never really thought much about it actually. David is always so supportive, but I just didn't have any desire to spend my evenings in night classes instead of with my babies," she said, making him frown.

"I love teaching...but I love being a mother the most. And a wife," she said fondly, as she thought about her family.

"Perhaps now that your children are older...you might think of it? The only reason I ask is that I teach some night courses at Boston University. You would be a wonderful addition," he mentioned.

"Oh...that's kind of you to say, doctor. But to be honest, I'm really happy with things the way they are. I can barely stand to be away from David during the day so I can't imagine doing so in the evening," she replied. He frowned again and was about to say more when her son's team trudged in from practice.

"Hey honey...you're a mess," she said. He grinned.

"It was fun though," he joked and she laughed.

"Go shower and we'll head home," she said, as he headed off to the locker room.

"I do hope you'll consider classes in the future. You could have quite a career in the sciences," Dr. Jenkins mentioned.

"Oh...I don't know," she said. He was about to press her further, but heard her gasp. He looked to the doorway and saw the rest of her family there.

"I thought you were working late?" she asked in excitement, as David closed the distance between them.

"We still have a lot of names to go through, but we need a break. So I picked up peanut and we ordered takeout," he said, as he pecked her on the lips.

"That's perfect, because Bobby should be out in a few," she said, as she cuddled against him.

"Daddy let me drive the truck too, because he's tired," Summer added.

"You always liked field work better than office work," Margaret said fondly.

"I do, but I wasn't too tired to grab these on my way," he said, as he pulled a bouquet of snow drops out from behind his back. She gasped and brought the flowers to her nose.

"You spoil me," she gushed, as she kissed him.

"It is what I live for," he replied, as he kissed her again, just as Bobby hurried out.

"I'm starved," he mentioned.

"Don't worry...I ordered enough take out to fill even your stomach," David said, as they prepared to leave.

"Oh, I'll see you tomorrow, doctor. I think everything is about done," Margaret said. Jenkins forced a tight smile.

"Of course...have a good evening, Margaret," he said, trying to quell the anger inside him. But such was useless and he stormed back to his lab with fury.

~*~

Lancelot and Guinevere bowed deeply to Seth, as he arrived in their Kingdom.

"Welcome to Camelot, my Lord. This is an unexpected, yet wonderful surprise. Our palace staff is at your command," Guinevere said.

"Very good...I do hope they can prepare some delicacies while I am here. I do enjoy gourmet goods," he mentioned.

"Of course...they will prepare you an array of delicacies right away," she confirmed.

"Excellent...until then, I would like to see that your Kingdom's state of affairs is up to par," he requested.

"Of course...we can begin with the round table and by then, we will have a grand feast and celebration ready for you," Lancelot said, as he met Charming's gaze and then led them to the double doors that attached to the Throne room. They swung open and the current Knights of the round table stood still at attention, after each bowing deeply to the God.

"Ah yes...the illustrious Knights of the Round Table," Seth said, as he observed the empty seat.

"And why does this seat remain empty?" he questioned.

"It actually last belonged to your right hand, my Lord. Technically, it still belongs to King Charming. Only the most powerful and honorable Knights have ever sat in the Siege Perilous," Lancelot informed him.

"Yes...you once sat there as well, did you not?" Seth questioned.

"Yes my Lord," Lancelot answered.

"Until you disgraced yourself by stealing your King's Queen," Seth goaded. Lancelot knew he was trying to egg him on into some kind of reaction. Well placed insults to the royals was common with him. His own son and Elsa had been insulted thoroughly on their most recent visit to Arendelle. Fortunately, his son had kept his temper in check and though it burned Charming and Winter, they always let the insults roll off.

Midas had never been able to do this and it was why he was eventually unseated. If not for Charming's ruse, Seth would have allowed Mephisto to actually kill him. Charming could have actually used someone like Lancelot in the resistance, but he hoped that the other Knight held his tongue.

"I have made mistakes in my past, my Lord, but I truly believe that Guinevere and I belong together," he responded in an even tone. Seth smirked.

"Yes...I suppose if it's true love, that makes infidelity okay," the God jabbed and Charming clamped down on his emotions. It would not have been the first time that Seth had tried to tear down true love.

"Perhaps you fancy an exhibition duel, my Lord? My Knights can put on quite a show," Lancelot offered instead of taking the bait. Seth smirked and he took a seat in the Siege Perilous.

"I do love to be entertained…" he agreed. Lancelot motioned to two of his Knights, who took their places in the center of the room. But suddenly, a stream of fire swept into the room and in the blink of an eye, the Knights were slain, both killed gruesomely by the deep burn slashes on their chests and necks.

Winter gasped and put a hand to her mouth, as she watched her husband unsheathe his blade and his eyes dart around the room. The chalice sword lit with pure power, just as two more Knights were slain like nothing.

Charming jumped into the fray and his blade effectively blocked the flaming weapons wielded by the assailants. When the smoke and flames cleared, Charming glared at the wielders.

"What the hell are you two doing out of prison?!" he growled, as his gaze flicked to Mephisto.

"As if I didn't know," he hissed.

"What's the matter, Charming? Afraid of a challenge?" Mephisto goaded.

"These two are hardly a challenge," Charming snapped in return, as he dueled them both. Winter watched with bated breath and inched forward. But Seth put his hand up.

"You will not interfere, my dear Queen Winter," he forbade. She swallowed thickly and clutched her pendant to cover it, hiding the glow, as she willed her power to her husband.

"I hope you are enjoying your brief respite from prison, because you are going back there very soon," Charming threatened.

"I don't think so. We made a new deal," Gawain said smugly.

"I see we're not the only ones that have undergone some changes since our last meeting," Arthur observed.

"So you made a deal with the devil? You really think that's going to work out well for you?" Charming questioned.

"Oh...it's working out quite well for us, but you...not so much…" Gawain said, as his eyes briefly flicked to his wife.

"I see she's still the fairest of them all. I'm glad she's here to witness what we're about to do to you," he goaded, as they flailed their fiery chains around and the former prince parried each of their attacks in rapid succession. But he knew he wouldn't be able to maintain that pace long, even with the chalice sword. He felt her willing her power to him and it was very risky. Seth was thankfully occupied with the display of their duel, but he would not take any chances in him realizing that she was disobeying him and employed the full might of their power in the flashiest way possible. The two demons were paralyzed by the power of his sword with two expert swipes and Charming brought his blade to Arthur's throat.

"My Lord...it would seem that Mephisto has betrayed you by releasing these two from prison," Charming stated.

"Their desperate souls called to me, my Lord. They were severally wronged by King Charming and his fair Queen," Mephisto explained.

"Camelot is my birthright!" Arthur shouted.

"And they held the sword that was mine, while ousting me from my Throne!" Arthur claimed angrily.

"And then King Charming and the fair Queen Snow placed the man that betrayed me on the Throne next to my Queen!" he continued.

"You know I do not like when you do not consult me about acquiring souls," Seth chided to the demon King. Charming smirked smugly, but it fell away at Seth's next utterance.

"But Arthur should reclaim his Throne. He has obviously proved that he will be a stronger King that will force Camelot to serve me to its fullest extent," Seth announced.

"My Lord…" Charming started to protest, but he felt himself be forcibly silenced when the God raised his hand.

"I have made my decision. Arthur...as new King of Camelot, you will serve me. Do not make me regret this appointment," Seth stated. Arthur smirked.

"I shall not, my Lord," he said, as he bowed and cast a smug glance up at Charming.

"And what of these two? Perhaps two souls for my realm?" Mephisto asked.

"I'd rather them be alive, if you permit it so, my Lord," Arthur requested.

"They left me to rot in prison...and I wish to inflict the same upon them. Death is much too quick in this instance," he added.

"Very well...please escort them to the prison, my right hand. Then you and your Queen can take your leave," Seth ordered. Charming bowed deeply and sheathed his sword. He cuffed Lancelot and Guinevere without a word, as Winter hurried to his side. They marched the prisoners forth and once they left the palace, she hooked her hand on his elbow, hoping that her touch could quell some of the rage in her husband.

This had been a clear shift in power tonight and they both knew it would not bode well at all for their future. Mephisto had undermined them in a very big way, which meant that it was only a matter of time before their entire facade collapsed. Their light halves needed to wake up and they needed to do it soon…

~*~

Margaret giggled, as they sat on their couch at home, cuddled close and she met his gaze, as he fed her another bite with the chopsticks. Her legs were draped over his lap and she was content to be cuddled against him.

"Mmm...that's so good…" she said, as she picked up her chopsticks and repaid the favor by feeding him a bite too.

"Best Chinese in Boston," he agreed, as she sighed and rested her head against his chest.

"Is the case bad?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah...I'm afraid so. We thought it was serial...but now we think it's someone experimenting," he told her. Generally, he wasn't supposed to talk too much about cases and would rather protect her from the ugliness in his job. But he knew he could tell his beloved anything and she'd never breathe a word to anyone. She was his full confidante and source of strength. He dealt with that ugliness in his job far better than many might, for her love gave him light, no matter how many dark places his work took him to. And as far as protecting her, she insisted that she was strong enough for anything and wanted to know everything he was going through. They faced absolutely everything together and neither of them would have it any other way.

"Experimenting?" she asked. He nodded.

"We've never seen a drug like this before. We don't have any live victims to know what kind of brain activity is going on when they ingest the drug...but the reports we do have say they just...lose their minds in an instant," he explained.

"The one student I did see before he died kept saying that he didn't want to be bad, like something was telling him to do bad things," he said shaking his head.

"A complete personality change," he added. She sighed.

"Those poor people. I can't imagine going through something like that...those parents. Oh David...if something like that happened to one of our babies...I don't know what I'd do," she fretted.

"I know, my darling...but I promise you that I'll never let anyone hurt you or one of our babies," he promised, as he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I think that's part of the reason our experimenter has changed his victim pool. Students are risky, even though they all had drug abuse history. He's now picking homeless people that he or she thinks won't be missed," he said.

"That's horrible...who would do something like this, let alone create a drug like this?" she wondered.

"I don't know...but if I profile it, then it's someone that's very sick and seems to be trying to find a way to get rid of that sickness," he said.

"Sounds like a Jekyll and Hyde situation," she commented offhandedly and he looked at her with scrutiny.

"What do you mean?" he asked. She shrugged.

"That's kind of what Dr. Jekyll was trying to do in the story. He was using a drug to keep his dark side at bay. Didn't really work though," she replied. He looked at her in surprise.

"I...I hadn't even considered that, but it's exactly what this is like. The student that killed himself...he kept saying he didn't want to do bad things," he said, as he surprised her by kissing her soundly.

"God...you're brilliant," he praised. She looked at him shyly.

"I just read a lot," she replied.

"Still going to go with brilliant...I'm going to add that to our profile. It might help narrow down our suspect pool even more," he said. He wasn't sure how yet or if it was even relevant, but if their suspect had some serious mental illness, there could be undertones or clues in their file.

"So...you think I'm brilliant?" she teased. He smirked and kissed her cheek, before trailing his kisses down to her neck.

"Most definitely...my beautiful, brilliant wife. I am certainly the luckiest man in this or any world," he replied, as she closed her eyes, enjoying all the things her husband's lips were making her feel.

"Mmm...I think I'm the lucky one," she said fondly, as she caressed his handsome face.

"We have such a wonderful life and somehow, I know our love is special," she said. He smiled and kissed her tenderly again. Their eyes met and not for the first time, they felt that mystical connection between them. They had never quite been able to explain it, but it had seemed to always be there since the day they met. If they didn't know any better, it was almost like their hearts were beating in sync. It sounded crazy, but somehow they knew it was exactly what was happening. Their hearts thrummed together and they could nearly read each other's thoughts with just a look between them.

"We're soul mates for sure," he agreed.

"Then you don't think I'm silly for believing in true love...that we have true love?" she teased, as he squeezed her hip.

"How could I when I'm part of this love? There's no other explanation for the depths of my love for you," he replied, as his gaze on her made her tingle all over.

"Maybe we should go to bed," he suggested. She kissed him tenderly.

"Mmm...I like that idea," she said, as she sat up and grabbed the fortune cookies from the coffee table.

"But first we need to read our fortunes," she said playfully. He chuckled at her.

"You don't even like the cookies," he teased.

"True, they taste like stale plastic, but you know me. I love reading the silly fortunes," she teased back, as he smiled fondly at her. He could spend eternity with her and he knew he'd never get enough of her. He shook his head in amusement, as he watched her unwrap the cookie and break it apart. She discarded the cookie and sought the slip of paper inside.

"What does it say?" he asked, as he ate a piece of the cookie.

"Oooh...let's see. Nothing is impossible to a willing heart," she read.

"Very true," he agreed.

"Really?" she asked playfully.

"Of course...look at all we've been through. Your father and my step-father did their damnedest to keep us apart, but they couldn't do it, because in our hearts, we knew we were meant to be together and nothing stopped us," he reminded. She tilted her head to the side fondly.

"You always know how to put things in perspective," she praised, as she kissed him and then broke open his cookie.

"Hmm...the best way to get rid of an enemy is to make a friend," she read. He snorted.

"Not in my line of work," he joked and she playfully smacked his arm.

"Maybe not, but remember that girl we went to school with and she hated me, especially when her mother, the social climber, was dating my father," she reminded him.

"Sort of...what was her name?" he asked.

"Roni," she replied. He chuckled.

"Yeah...she hated you," he recalled and she smacked him playfully again.

"Hey, she hated me too just because I loved you," he reminded her.

"Mmhmm...but then we became friends after I kept trying to be her friend and wore her down," she said. He pecked her on the lips.

"That's because you're you...I can't believe anyone could hate you," he said fondly.

"She managed...for a while," she said.

"But you won her over," he replied, as he stood up and pulled her up with him.

"Let's go to bed," she suggested, as she looked at him slyly and he put his arm around her waist and they headed for their bedroom.

~*~

Winter and Charming appeared through a portal in their palace Throne room and she watched helplessly, as her husband's temper got the best of him and he slammed his fists against a wall. He then deflated and turned to her, his handsome face marred with shame.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry…" he apologized. He never liked losing his temper in front of her. She put her hands on his shoulders and then folded him into her embrace. She brushed a soothing hand along the back of his neck and his anger started to ebb away slowly in her presence.

"It's all right, my love...that was not a win for us," she mentioned.

"Mephisto suspects something...I'm certain of it now," he said.

"Do you think he knows?" she asked.

"No...not about the resistance, but he knows we're not on the level. He is trying to undermine our favor with Seth and now that Arthur has gained that favor, it will only be a matter of time before my influence upon him is no more," he said.

"Then we need to step up the plan...I just don't know how," she fretted.

"You are not wrong," a new voice said, as Rumplestiltskin and Belle appeared through a portal.

"The shop was ransacked tonight and then burned to the ground. Fortunately, anything of true value or important magical artifacts are hidden in my vault inside Bald Mountain," Rumple said.

"Arthur and Gawain...Mephisto's new charges," Charming confirmed.

"Then we were right...they're looking for it. The dagger," Belle realized.

"But why? Emma reforged Excalibur and it still remains in the stone in the mines. He shouldn't need the dagger," Winter said.

"No...but he is no longer worthy of Excalibur. He cannot pull it from the stone again. The dagger is the next best source of the dark power that Arthur craves," Rumple replied.

"And he knows you two could still probably pull Excalibur from the stone...or one of your children could," Belle reminded them.

"We know Snow and David could...there's no telling if that's true about us and we're not willing to risk it for that sword. And the kids...don't have their memories," David refuted.

"Then it is time to bump up our plan, because I do not think it will be long until our ruse is revealed to Seth," Rumple replied.

"How? If Jekyll isn't even awake yet...then it could be months before they are triggered into awakening," David said.

"We know, that's why we think it's time to send someone to help them along," he said, as he revealed two pink potions in his hand.

"Did you make these from the poppies?" Winter asked and he nodded curtly.

"But Seth burned them all and cast a spell to keep them from growing in his presence once he figured out what they do," Charming interjected.

"And these are the very last of them. I managed to salvage just enough poppy pollen from the scorched earth where he destroyed them. This is it, with the exception of your chalice sword trick, but we know that requires them and everyone else thinking you have killed them and I think we know that Seth would never buy it if you do so to one of your immediate family members," Rumple explained. He was right. Seth would immediately know something was up if he didn't already.

"Then you want to wake two of our children," Winter deduced, as a mirror appeared before them and then a newspaper.

"As you can see, Dr. Jenkins isn't awake yet, but he is back to experimenting and using live victims to test on," Rumple explained, as they saw the doctor mulling around his lab. The sight of him made Charming's blood boil in rage and he clenched his fist. He had never wanted to see anyone bleed the way he wanted to see it from this man. He wanted him to die, slowly and in some excruciating way. He wanted to see the life leave his eyes and know that he would never again come near his beloved Winter of her other half. He wanted him to suffer and he wanted to inflict that pain.

Winter took the newspaper from him and read the headline.

"As you can see, Dr. Jenkins has created a new drug. He is seeking to silence the darkness in his head with a serum again, not yet aware of his past or that he succeeded all those years ago in perfecting that serum with my help," Rumple stated.

"The deaths have caught the eye of the press already...which means David will be in the spotlight soon in the middle of the investigation," Winter realized.

"Will people start recognizing him from Seattle?" Charming questioned.

"Perhaps...people in the Land Without Magic have a short attention span, but the dark web is still rampant with theories and truth seekers investigating that day...and the people involved," Rumple said.

"We think that's why we need to send someone that can run interference and look out for them, but who can also help wake them up in case the doctor's madness doesn't do it fast enough," Belle added. Charming sighed deeply, knowing who they wanted to send.

"As you can see...the doctor already is quite entranced by Margaret Nolan and his deep seated hatred of her husband has been reignited," Rumple said, as he showed them an earlier encounter. The bliss their other halves were living in was evident, but so was the doctor's clear displeasure at being constantly rebuked by the happily married Margaret Nolan. Winter put her hand to the mirror when the image focused on Summer and Bobby. He heard her choke back a sob and a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Bobby...he's grown so much," she murmured and he slipped his arms around her, comforting her the best he could.

"They'll be home soon, my love," he promised, as he looked at the Dark One and his wife.

"You want us to wake Emma, don't you?" he asked. He nodded curtly.

"We know she is the best one for this. She'll jog their memories, be able to interject herself into the investigation, watch David's back and protect Margaret from that psychopath if needed," Rumple explained.

"And the other potion?" Winter asked.

"We think Killian would be best as well. He'll be able to get them to Boston upon the Jolly Roger and bring them back quickly. Plus, we all know he'll support Emma in whatever she needs to do," Belle answered. Charming sighed again and Winter put her hands on his shoulders.

"I know how much you wanted to protect Emma from this...but you know she will want to do anything in her power to stop Seth and reunite this family," she reasoned. He nodded in acceptance.

"I know…" he agreed, as Winter took the potions.

"I'll call Emma and have them come. Escaping during the night is their best bet," she suggested. Rumple nodded.

"I'll cast a heavy fog spell over the harbor. Hopefully your son-in-law is as good a navigator as he boasts. He'll need to be to get through it and through the barrier with a bean," the Dark One said, as he and Belle used a bean and stepped through another portal. Winter returned from making her call and Charming took her in his arms.

"Everything is going to be okay, my darling…" he promised.

"My fear is for you, my love. If they find out what we've done too soon and Seth turns on you...I cannot bare to think about what he will do to you," she said, as tears filled her eyes. He cupped her face gently in his hands and kissed her passionately.

"There is nothing I will not endure for you and our family. Our love can never be torn asunder and even if the worst happens, I know that you will save me," he said.

"He will torture you…" she feared, almost hyperventilating at that thought. She remembered the times when Clayton had done the same to him for stepping out of line when they were in Atlantis and knew Seth would do a hundred times worse to him.

"Shh...my love, I will do everything possible to make sure that doesn't happen," he assured, as he held her tightly against his chest. She sniffed and kissed him tenderly again, before going to prepare four glasses of wine. He watched her add the potions to the two of the glasses, just as Emma and Killian arrived with the baby.

"Hey...you said it was urgent. Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Unfortunately yes...but in order to explain everything, we ask that you trust us and drink this wine first," Charming said. Emma looked at them both strangely and took her glass.

"You guys are scaring me…" she said.

"We know honey and we don't mean to...but we promise you will understand everything if you drink this," Winter replied. Emma shrugged and took a drink, knowing that her parents would never hurt her. They watched the pink magic swirl around her and lift the curse. Her eyes widened in realization and she dropped the wine glass, shattering it.

"Mom...Dad…" she cried, as she went to them and they hugged her between them. Her eyes widened. Killian watched her, looking lost, so he took a drink of his wine.

"No one is dead. Everyone I've executed with the chalice sword is somewhere safe and building a resistance," Charming told her.

"But Mephisto is suspicious and we don't know how long until Seth discovers what we've done. He has released Arthur and Gawain, making them his demonic charges," Winter added.

"Jekyll has devolved into a threat, but we fear he won't wake our light halves soon enough," Charming added.

"So...you're sending us," Killian said knowingly. They nodded.

"Don't worry...I'll wake them up and bring them home. I...just make sure you guys stay safe while I'm gone, yeah?" she asked. They smiled and hugged her again.

"We will do our best," Charming agreed. Winter sniffed.

"You have to go. Rumple managed a fog spell in the Harbor to cloak your escape aboard the Jolly Roger. But you must go now," they prodded, as they took them to their mirror portal to conceal their escape. Emma and Killian kissed Hope, as Winter took her and they joined hands, before stepping through the portal. Charming took her in his arms and kissed her hair and then the baby's head.

"This will work, my love...it has to," he said. She nodded. Once again...everything rested on hope and true love...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #original season 8 storyline #Fandral the Dashing #Rose Red #Dashing Rose #romance #adventure #family #truest loves #Dark Snowing #finding you always #the epic continues

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vampwrrrmistresslist · 5 years

Text

Sweet Lies 4

A/N: This is chapter 4 of an in progress fic, the links for which can be found on my mistresslist.

Your phone buzzed with a text.

“What are you doing?”

“Working”

“Can you take a break?”

“No”

“They’re legally mandated to give you a 15 minute break after you’ve been working for 2 hours”

“Legally, yes, logistically, no.” A picture of Baekhyun pouting. Your eyes sharpened as you caught the background behind his uncomfortably adorable face. “Are you outside?”

“Maybe”

“Baekhyun!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, and looked at the pile of emails you still had to handle. They were never-ending. You sighed. He was right. No one would know if their answer was emailed to them 15 minutes later than it would have been. You locked your computer, and walked to the front door in the break-room, opening it, and squinting in the harsh light of the July sun, until your eyes focused on him. You raised an eyebrow.

“What? I’m using my legally mandated 15 minute break to take a walk around the block, which is good for my heart, which lowers the likelihood of heart disease, which lowers the amount that health insurance will have to cover, which saves the City money. They should be thanking me.”

You ushered him inside. “Ugh. I can’t believe that you walked over here in 107 degree weather in a three piece suit.”

“Well, it’s just across the street. It’s not exactly a marathon trail.”

“Still… I don’t do sunlight, if I can help it.”

“Are you a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess you don’t want any of these,” he said, pulling a bag of gummy bears from behind his back.

You bit your lip and tried not to look interested.

“I’m good.”

“Are you?” He tilted his head. You looked away. He slowly opened the bag, and then waved his hand, wafting the fruity scent of the candy toward you. You turned around, and walked away, to sit on the couch. Grinning, he slowly approached, still wafting. “What’s wrong? Overwhelmed by the scent of delicious fruit-flavoured Haribo?”

“You don’t know me.”

“I saw a bag of them on your dresser during our call last night.”

You sniffed. “Those were sugar-free. I don’t want cavities.”

He said down beside you. “Hey… One little packet of gummy bears is not going to give you a cavity.”

“It’s a slippery slope.”

“You can rinse your mouth when you’re done.”

“I don’t like gifts.”

“It’s not a gift.” He popped one into his mouth. “I wanted to share. You’re not going to make me eat this whole bag by myself, are you? Don’t you care about my teeth?”

You gave him a look, and said sweetly, “You can rinse your mouth when you’re done.”

He opened his mouth to respond when you were dubiously saved by your gossipy, old-biddy’s-soul-in-a…relatively-young-woman’s-body, co-worker, Kim.

“Oh, hi, there!” she greeted in her annoyingly saccharine voice, moving to stand between you. “You’re the new ACM, aren’t you?”

You gaped up at her back. How could she possibly know that? The man was just hired. Her powers of busybody must be strong, indeed. He stood, holding out the hand not clutching the packet of gummy bears. “I am. Byun Baekhyun. And you are?”

Simpering, “You can call me Kim.” You rolled your eyes behind her, trying to keep your evil on the inside, but he caught your expression, and grinned before quickly schooling his expression back into a mask of polite interest. “How do you like working in the City Manager’s Office?”

“Well, it beats what I was doing before. Far fewer hours. I actually have time to sleep, eat, and bathe, all in the same day.”

She tittered. You wanted to strangle her, but instantly felt guilty. It wasn’t her fault that she was terminally annoying. And passionately insincere (toward you, at least). And had the voice of an especially particular nosy little old church lady. “Well, what are you doing over here? Do you need me to get you a supervisor?”

You muttered under your breath, “I am your supervisor, Kim.”

“Ah, well, I was under the impression that she—“ here he gestured to you, “is a supervisor.”

“Oh, yes, well…” The door opened, and your boss walked in. “Ken!” she trilled. “This is Byun Baekhyun, he’s a new ACM!”

Ken’s eyes flitted over all of you, as he came forward to shake Baekhyun’s hand. You kept your expression neutral. “Nice to meet you; Ken MacDermott.”

Baekhyun shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Ah, no, I was actually already being helped when Kim came in, so…”

Ken looked between you two, a knowing expression on his face. You groaned inwardly. He started for his office. “Okay, well, it was nice meeting you. It’s always nice to make connections with people throughout the City. Make sure to come back and visit us, sometime!”

“I will do that.”

You wanted to die. Ken turned around at the doorway, “Kim, I was wondering if you could help me with the quarterly report.”

“Oh, sure, Ken, what did you need?” Their voices trailed off as they walked down the hall to his office.

Baekhyun sat back down next to you, giving you a look. “Well, that was awkward.”

“I know!” You shared a laugh. You looked at the clock. “You should probably go. How much more of your break do you have?”

He looked at his watch. “Ah, 3 minutes.”

You stood up. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“When do you take lunch?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“What?”

“You can’t come over here for every break!”

He pouted. “Why not?”

“Because it’s unprofessional.”

“Why?”

“Because…I don’t know why, it just is! How am I supposed to retain an air of supervisory cool if you’re over here every two hours making moo-cow eyes at me?”

“I made no moo-cow eyes!”

“You’re making them right now!”

He smiled charmingly. “That’s because you’re the prettiest girl in the room.”

“I’m the only girl in the room.”

“So, if you don’t want me coming over here, why don’t you come to me?”

“Because I get 30 minutes for lunch, and if I come to you, between the walk there and back, and the elevator, I would get 20 minutes to eat, and I left horking my food in 2 minutes behind in high school.”

He gaped at you in horror. “You actually only have 30 minutes for lunch?”

“Of course. How long do you have?”

“An hour.”

You tilted your head. “How?”

He fidgeted. “Well, a lot of business is conducted over lunch, and we often have to do a lot of uncredited overtime, so we officially have an hour, though we can take longer.”

“Must be nice.”

“We could FaceTime.”

“I’m not FaceTiming my lunch with you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not some soldier deployed to a foreign war, trying to catch every precious moment with me, because it might be your last. It’s not like you won’t see me soon enough.”

He whined, “But I want to see you all the time!”

“That is called infatuation. You’ll get over it.”

“But—“

You pushed him out of the door. “Goodbye, Baekhyun,” you sing-songed, and closed the door.

Faintly, from the other side, you heard, “Baehyunnie!”

You poked your head out of the door, and poked out your tongue at him. “Baekhyunnie!”

He smirked, finally satisfied, and waved as he walked away. You watched him go, admiring the way he filled out his suit. He turned around, to catch you oogling, and you jumped, and slammed the door.

You jumped again, when you heard your boss’s voice above your head.

“Baekhyunnie?” You died a little inside. He was grinning down at you. You cleared your throat, and looked away. “I hear he’s single.”

“You just met him. How could you possibly know that?”

“Kim told me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course she did. And how did she know that?”

“You know she knows things.”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“He seems nice.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

You looked past him. “Don’t do what you’re about to do.”

“I’m just saying…an ACM… That’s a pretty big deal.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He seems very intelligent.”

“I’m aware.”

“You could—“

“Okay! That’s it! My 15 minute break is over! Sorry, Ken, I really have to get back to all these emails!” You power walked back to your desk with your boss’s chuckling ringing in your burning ears. As you sat down, you saw something fly by you out of the corner of your eye. Turning, you saw your boss grinning goofily at you, before turning and heading back to his office. You looked at the side of your desk. Gummy bears.

***

You stopped typing when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” you told your coworkers.

A delivery boy from Jason’s Deli stood outside. He handed you a ticket, saying, “I have an order for someone here.”

You read your name incredulously. “That’s me, but I didn’t order anything.”

“Well, it has already been paid for, so it’s yours now, if you want it.” You took the bag from him. “Just a moment. Let me grab my wallet, for your tip.”

He shook his head. “Already been tipped. Have a nice day.”

“Have a nice day,” you echoed, looking confused as you wandered back into the break room. Something clicked. “No way,” you said to yourself. You grabbed your phone, and shot off a text. “Did you send lunch to me?”

“Hm?”

“Did you buy Jason’s Deli, and have it sent to my office?”

“Hm?”

“Did you call Jason’s Deli, order food, and tell them to deliver it to my office, in my name?”

You watched the screen as the little notification bar indicated, Baekhyunnie is typing. This went on for a solid 30 seconds. Then—

“Hm?”

You growled. “I hate you”

“No you don’t”

“I told you I don’t like gifts”

“It’s not a gift”

“Then what is it?”

“Lunch”

“Gift. Noun. ‘A thing given willingly to someone without payment’”

“I’m just trying to feed you”

“I keep myself fed quite well thank you”

“You’re welcome”

You gaped at your phone. Taking a deep breath, you dove back in.

“I owe you”

“Okay.” You reared back in surprise.

“Okay? Really? No clever comeback?”

“I’m perfectly fine with you being indebted to me”

“Well I don’t like it”

“Fine then you don’t owe me”

You chewed on your lip. “I really hate you”

“We’ve been over this. No you don’t”

“This was very kind of you but at the risk of sounding like a jerk there’s a lot that I can’t eat”

“You mean like carbs and oily foods?”

You looked around incredulously.

“How did you know?”

“I looked up information on cholecystectomies.”

“Wow. That was…actually really sweet of you”

“I’m a really sweet guy”

You snorted. “Beyond that though there are a lot of things that I don’t eat”

“I figured so I told them go make a salad but to package everything separately so you can add what you want. Also, I ordered the vegetable soup. You can eat that right?”

You fidgeted. “Well yes… How did you get to be so thoughtful?”

He sent you a picture of himself grinning. “Decades of practice”

Sighing, you typed. “Thank you for this but please don’t do it again. It’s burdensome. And don’t think that I didn’t notice that you left the gummy bears.” A long pause. Then, a new picture. A pouty face. “Oh don’t do that.” Another pouty face. “Argh, stahp!” A third one, even more adorable than the last two. “I really hate you”

“You like me”

You groaned, and then conceded. “I’ll eat it well.” A picture of him beaming. You shook your head.

***

After work, you cautiously poked your head out of the door. No Baekhyun in sight. He didn’t pop up during your post-work jog, either. While part of you breathed a sigh of relief, part of you looked for him. You came home, and showered. Your phone rang as you finished tapping in your sleeping mask. You looked at it, sighed, and picked up. “Again with the video calls?”

“You don’t like to look at me?”

You laughed. “Yep, that’s it. My eyes hate beauty.”

He preened. “What are you doing?”

“I just finished getting ready for bed.”

“Getting ready for bed? This early?”

“I do it as soon as I come home from work, so that I don’t have to drag myself through the motions when I’m sleepy.”

“Well, what if you have to go back out?”

“That never happens.”

“Well, what if it did?”

“Then, I would just get dressed and go out?”

He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Very well…”

You chuckled. “So, um…I was kind of surprised that I didn’t see you after work?”

“Did you miss me?”

“No,” you lied unconvincingly, your voice pitched high. You cleared your throat. “It’s just uh, you know…you’ve been around a lot lately so, I just…wondered…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, kitten. I had to stay late because of work.”

“Ah, okay.”

“Why? Do you want me to walk with you after work?”

“No, no! That’s okay! I often have to stay late too, so that wouldn’t make sense.”

“Ohhh, you’re starting to miss me…”

“Shut up.”

“You liiike me.”

“Whatever.”

“IIIII light up your liiiife! I give you hooooope…”

You put your head in your hands and groaned. “What’s it going to take for me to live this down?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Ugh.”

“So, how was work?”

“Worky.”

“You are the princess of loquaciousness.”

“My job is pretty uninteresting. I try to devote as little of my time off to it, as possible. How was your day?”

“Well, I guess my job is pretty boring, too.” He went into detail about his workday while you listened avidly.

When he was done, you nodded. “Now see, I think that your job is interesting.” You asked some thoughtful questions, and he looked surprised, but answered you.

“You know, not many people would have known, or wanted, to ask those questions.”

“I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

He nodded, looking thoughtful. “What did you major in?”

“I started out double majoring in International Comparative Studies, and Political Science, but then switched PoliSci to Psychology.”

He tilted his head. “Psychology? Why?”

“Well, to be honest, I had planned on being a lawyer for most of my life, but when I sat down and thought about it, I didn’t really want to be? So, after thinking about what I actually enjoy, and for what I have an affinity, I decided on Psychology. I wanted to go either into Forensic, or Clinical Psychology.”

“So, what happened?”

You blew a rueful breath. “That…is a story for another day.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“A little university in Durham.”

His eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “You went to Duke.”

“Mm.”

“So, what the heck are you doing working as a mid-level manager in a municipality?”

“I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay…okay…” He looked off, nodding his head. “So…you’re brilliant.”

“That is woefully hyperbolic.”

He imitated you with a goofy voice. “That is woefully hyperbolic.”

You burst out laughing. “What was that?”

“That was my impression of you. I think it’s rather good.”

You snorted. He smiled, watching you laugh. “So, where did you go to school?”

“Vanderbilt.”

“Oh, wow! I hear that that’s a really good school!”

“Yep.”

“Where did you do your post-grad?”

“Cornell.”

“Wow! I’m really impressed.”

“You should be. I’m brilliant.”

“And modest.”

“Also, handsome.”

“What did you major in, handsome?”

“I, too, double-majored, but in Business Management, and Musical Arts.”

“Musical Arts?”

“Yep. I figured, if this whole government thing didn’t pan out, I’d become a singer.”

You laughed. “So…sing to me.”

“Mmm, I’ll do it later. I’ve been talking all day, so I’m a bit hoarse.”

“I think that you sound nice.”

“You like the sound of my voice?”

You were suddenly shy. “Yes…”

“Well, then, I promise, I will sing for you, sometime.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” you said, pointing at him. “I’ll hold you to it!”

“Just as long as you hold me.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That was sooo cheesy! I have goosebumps!”

“Ah, I didn’t expect to be affecting your body so soon in the relationship. As expected, my charm is overwhelming.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I have to make breakfast, and lunch for tomorrow.”

“I can just order them for you.” You gave him a look. “Well, then. Can I watch?”

“You want to watch me cook?”

“I want to watch you.”

You thought about it. “Okay. I’ve always wanted to have my own cooking show.” You headed toward the kitchen.

“Which reminds me. I didn’t ruin the cake; it went over really well.” You stared at him blankly. “Remember…the cake that you advised me to make when we ran into each other at the grocery store?”

“Oh, yeah… Well, I’m glad to hear it. See, I knew that you could do it! I believe in you!”

“Can you just…stay next to me….all day…giving me constant affirmation, and validation?”

“Only if you pay me.”

“Can I pay you in hugs and kisses?”

“No.”

“Grinch.”

You set down the phone and pulled the makings of your breakfast smoothie out of the freezer.

“What are you making?”

“Breakfast. It’s just a smoothie.”

“What are you putting in it?”

“Cauliflower, strawberries, chia seed, and pea protein.”

“I’m not even sure what half of that is, but okay.” You put the frozen ingredients in the blending cup and then stuck it in the freezer. “That was quick.”

“That’s the one good thing about summer. I have smoothies for breakfast, and they take, like, two minutes to make. Just fill the cup with water in the morning, blend for a minute, and you’re good. Also, they help beat this unholy heat.”

“What do you eat for breakfast in the winter?”

“Mostly soup, or stew.”

He watched you while you pulled vegetables out of the fridge. “What are you making for lunch?”

“A salad. I only crave salads this time of year. By fall, I just want to eat all of the things that I shouldn’t have.”

“What are you putting in it?”

“Well, see…something you should know about me is…I’m pretty lazy, so I do the minimum of work necessary. My daily summer salad usually just consists of two tomatoes, a cucumber, an avocado, some sort of lightly steamed greens like kale, turnip, or mustard, garlic, salt, and pepper, and two boiled eggs on the side. Oh, and whatever herb looks ready to be clipped from my windowsill herb garden.”

“And you like that?”

“I think that it’s delicious.”

“No dressing?”

“I hate dressing. What’s the point of eating a salad if you can’t taste it? Besides, the avocado coats everything, and acts like a dressing.”

“What else don’t you like?”

You thought for a moment, while chopping the vegetables. “Not much, actually. Raw onions. Carrots, unless they’re pickled, or in soups. Parsnips. Anything with mayonnaise, or ranch, or anything like that. Tartar sauce, blue cheese, blah, blah, blah.”

“Hm. That’s not too much.”

“Oh, and I don’t eat meat.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I…don’t eat meat?”

“You’re a vegetarian.”

“That’s the word for it, yes.”

“Wow.”

“Wow?”

“You’re the first vegetarian that I’ve ever met.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously!”

“That’s weird.”

“So, is it a moral thing, or…”

“Not really, to be honest. I went on a radical diet in school to lose weight for a play, and…just kind of kept going after it finished.”

“You were in a play?”

“I was in a lot of plays.”

“What was the role?”

“A psychic prostitute.” He looked dubious. “It was Canadian. I had to be…shall we say…scantily clad?”

“Is there…any…video footage…of this play?”

You waved your hand loftily. “Oh, sure, it’s in the archives, somewhere.”

“Note to self. Make weekend visit to Duke.”

You put your finished salad in the fridge. “All done.”

“I like seeing you in the kitchen.”

“You like seeing me.”

“That’s true. But you know what they say, “The way to a man’s heart…”

“…is through his rib cage.”

He looked at you, delighted. “Well, that was dark.”

“You should have seen me in high school.”

“You didn’t go to a Catholic high school, did you?”

“No?”

“Darn.”

You looked at him, lost.

“Just would have been nice to imagine you in a Catholic schoolgirl uniform.”

“Weirdo.”

“With the little knee socks…” You gave him a sarcastic look, and sighed. “And the pigtails.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, wait. You do have pigtails, at least.”

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but I went to a public school with no uniform.”

“I had to wear a school uniform.”

“That does nothing for me.”

“I’ll have you know that I was quite handsome in my uniform.”

“I’m sure you were, but I prefer you now.” He looked at you sideways, mollified. “Well, I should go.”

“Why?”

“I have some, slightly less glamourous chores to do, and I really don’t want you watching while I wash dishes, or do laundry.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“We are nowhere near the dirty laundry stage of a relationship.”

He fidgeted uncomfortably. “Well, can we just talk on the phone?”

“My speakers aren’t loud enough to hear you over the sound of the washer, and dryer.”

“Well then, can we still text?”

“Of course. But I might not answer right away, because of what I’m doing.”

“I understand. So, I’ll see you later.”

“Mmm…”

You texted through the rest of the evening, until bedtime. He wanted to call, and leave the phone on all night, but you protested, saying that, considering the fact that you hadn’t even had your first date, you certainly weren’t going to lie there and let him watch you sleep. He pouted, but got over it when you told him that you would make it up to him some other way, later. As you lay in bed, your eyes open and unseeing in the dark, you felt nervous about how attached you were starting to feel. To be honest, you would have loved to leave the phones on all night, but you recognized that you were becoming infatuated too quickly, you realized that if you didn’t set some boundaries, he was going to eat you all up, and if he ever ended it, there would be nothing left.

***

You walked into your office the next day to be greeted by a bag from the restaurant across the street sitting on your desk. You looked around, but everyone was at their own desk working. You walked over, peeked inside, and pulled out an omelette with a note attached, listing the ingredients, a bowl of chopped watermelon, and an apple. You sighed. ��This boy,”

“What boy?” You looked up to see your tall boss heading toward you.

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. He drew closer, and as he did, Baekhyun slowly appeared behind him. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Baekhyun came by to discuss some ways in which our departments can better integrate.”

“Ah.”

Ken turned to Baekhyun, and clapped him on the shoulder. “You brought up a lot of good ideas that I’ll be taking to the next meeting with the department heads. Thanks for thinking of us.”

“Well, I know how integral your division is to the City, even though you work in the background. Anything we can do to help you help us would be to everyone’s benefit, employees, and citizens, alike.”

Ken nodded, and then looked between the two of you, pursed his lips as if he was trying to hold back a smile, and then said, “Well, I’ve got to go to an IT meeting, but I’ll see you later.”

Baekhyun nodded decisively, “Have a good meeting.”

“When are they ever?” Ken tossed over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

Baekhyun turned back to you.

You sighed. “Did you do this?”

“Yes, I did. Is there anything in it that you don’t like? “

“No…”

“Well then, thank you,” he said, taking your smoothie, “for making me breakfast.”

“Making you breakfast?”

“Yes! It was so thoughtful! How did you know I love cauliflower, chee-chee…cheetty—“

“Cauliflower, chia seed, strawberry, pea protein—“

“Cauliflower-strawberry-chia-protein smoothies?” He flipped the lid and took a big sip. “Ahhh. How refreshing. Just what I needed.” Your stomach did a little flip, watching him drink what you made. He started backing away. “Well, I hate to eat and run, but I do have to get back to work.”

“Hey—“ you started.

He held up his hands. “Fair exchange is no robbery.”

You subsided. You felt your face flame as you said, “Thank you.”

He regarded you for a moment. “You don’t have to thank me. In fact, I like it better when you don’t. You should just accept things as they come.” His expression suddenly turned dark. “I will give you everything, because you deserve it.” You faltered, not knowing how to react to his abrupt intensity. As quickly as it came, it was gone, and his sweet cheeks were rounding in another sunny smile. He shook your kidnapped smoothie container at you. “I’ll send it back interoffice mail before the end of the day. Bye!” Then he was gone. You sat down, and stared at the meal in front of you, steam clouding the plastic cover on the omelette. Kim walked by. “Oh, that looks delicious!”

“Mm,” you murmured neutrally, as you put it aside, logged into your computer, and started your work day.

***

The rest of the week carried on much of the same, with Baekhyun finding little ways to treat you, despite your vociferous protestations. You felt simultaneously burdened, and pleased. None of your arguments seemed to sway him, so you decided to leave it alone, for now, and reengage when you actually went out on your date.

Your date. Just the thought of it sent a kaleidoscope of iron butterflies shredding their way through your stomach. You hadn’t been on a date since you had broken up with your ex, six years prior. Before him had been your first boyfriend, while you were still high school. While you had your fair number of admirers, it was rare to nothing that anyone caught your interest, and when you hit 30, what with all of your other issues, you just figured that part of your life was over.

Saturday evening found you staring into your closet, wishing that you had planned the date far enough in advance for you to go shopping. Since you could barely afford to live, most of your nicest clothes belonged to your professional wardrobe. You hadn’t had to worry about going out clothes in years. You let you head fall back as you sighed. It was the primordial cry of your gender. You had…nothing to wear. Nothing appropriate, anyway. Everything looked so…frumpy. When had you stopped caring about how you represented yourself? Ah, yes. Right about the time you first gained weight, and middle-aged family members had started giving you clothes, despite your protests, until you were too tired to fight. Why fight the inevitable encroach of time? At least, if you accepted their offerings, you didn’t have to worry about spending money on clothes. Who really cared if you dressed like a 60 year old school teacher? As your aunt used to say, “Ain’t nobody looking at you.”

You chewed a nail, and then brightened when a thought occurred to you. You pulled out your phone, and called your best friend.

“Hey, whore.”

“What’s up, you ignorant slut?”

Suzy laughed uproariously. “Why are we like this?”

Through your giggles, “I don’t know, maybe because we’re awesome?”

“That must be it.”

After the laughter had died down a bit, you asked her what she was doing.

“Nothing, just chilling with the toyboy, you?”

“I’m, ah…” You hadn’t told her anything, yet, and you knew that you were going to get an earful when she found out the whole story. “I’m..uh…trying to pick out an outfit for a date.”

Dead silence. Then, “WHAT?!”

“I…have a date tomorrow.” Sudden loud rustling, and then a bang. “What are you doing?”

“I had to leave the room, for this. I don’t want to burst my boyfriend’s eardrums with my screaming.”

“Oh. Well, then. Carry on.” You waited for at least a solid thirty seconds while she shrieked incoherently. “You done?”

“No.” More noisesome chaos while you idly checked your nails—you would have to paint them–and then, finally, silence. “Do you feel better?”

“Screw me, how the heck are you?!”

“Mmm…terrified beyond all reason?”

“Well, don’t be.”

“Oh, well then, I won’t. Thanks for the pep talk. I’m all better, now.”

“Alright, alright,” she grumbled, “no need to be a bitch about it. So, tell me everything.”

“Okay, but first…”

“Yes…?”

“Light of my eyes?”

“Uh-oh.”

“Love of my life?”

“What do you want?”

“I need to borrow some clothes.”

“Is that all? You should have just said.”

Whining, “I know, but it’s so awkward.”

“You’d do it for me. You have done it for me.”

“I know, but…it’s me.”

“Whatever, loser, do you have anything in particular in mind?”

“Something…me.”

“Well, I’m fresh out of floor-length black lace gowns, at the moment.”

You sighed. “It’s like you know me.”

“Just a moment.” Rustling, and then your phone buzzed with an incoming picture of her open closet. “I’ll just take pictures, you tell me what you want, and I’ll bring it over.”

“You’re the best.”

“I’m well aware.”

***

Forty minutes later, you were both staring at the clothes strewn on your bed, with identical expressions of thoughtfulness.

“You could wear the flouncy cream lace skirt with the green tunic.”

“That would be pretty, but remember we’re going to be walking at Rocky Park. I don’t want to accidentally get dirt on your skirt.”

She grimaced. “It’ll probably be too hot for jeans, too.”

You grunted, then ventured, “What about the black tank top, with black tights, the black lace shorts?”

She shook her head. “How about the grey lace shorts, instead of the black, and the grey crocheted vest?”

“Ohhh!”

“And you know what would look really good with that?”

“What?”

“Your long, purple multi-tiered necklace.”

You snapped your fingers. “You’re right!”

“What are you going to do for shoes?”

“Well, since we’re walking, I’ll just wear my black converse.”

“That’ll work.” Suzy started packing away her clothes, as you set aside the selected items. “So…?”

“So…?”

“Yeah, so, are you going to tell me about him?”

You sighed dramatically and flopped down on your bed. “Okay, but…you have to promise not to get mad at me.”

Suzy narrowed her eyes in suspicion, and sat down next to you, packing forgotten. “Why would I get mad at you?”

You pursed your lips, looking guilty, then then told her the story of how you met.

When you were done, she stared at you in silence for a while, and then, “Why didn’t you tell me that you were almost kidnapped?!”

“Because I wasn’t kidnapped, and I didn’t want you to worry.”

Her eyebrows flattened. “You didn’t want me to worry, or you didn’t want me to say, ‘I told you, so.’?”

“A little from column A, a little from column B.”

“I’m not your mom. I’m not going to say it, though I’m thinking it…pretty loudly.”

You snorted, and shook your head. “Thanks.”

“So…what happened after that?”

“Well…” You caved, and told her everything.

She looked worried. After a long pause– “He sounds kind of…”

“I know.”

“Because you usually—“

“I know.”

“I mean, I don’t want to, like, piss on your parade, but he doesn’t really take no for an answer, does he?”

“Not…really, no.”

“You can’t stand that.”

“Not normally, but…”

Suzy was silent, watching you, as you gathered your thoughts.

“I feel like I never really lived my life, you know? First, it was studying, and then, it was taking care of my father, and I’ve done next to nothing remotely interesting in my entire existence.”

“That’s not true!”

“You’re just saying that because I pay you.”

She grinned, and bumped your shoulder with hers. “Well, yes, but also because it’s not true!”

“Okay, maybe not from your perspective, but in this life, in this body? That’s what it feels like. I’ve never taken anything remotely resembling a chance, and I just want to be a little bit reckless, for once. And I don’t think that he’s, like, you know…abusive, or anything. He doesn’t give off that vibe. He’s just…kind of intense, sometimes. But he doesn’t seem controlling, or possessive.”

She exhaled loudly, and then nodded thoughtfully. “I still don’t trust him. But I do trust you. However, the moment, the second, the instant I see him remotely begin to isolate you, I’m shutting him down.”

You threw her a look. “Believe me, if he tries it, you’re going to have to go through me to get to him, because I’ll already be five stages into placing my foot all the way up in his butt.”

“Ew.”

“Too graphic?”

“You think?”

“I was going for bad-ass.”

“You took a left a bad-ass, and drove straight to off-putting.”

“I’ll do better.”

“Yeah, you work on that.”

***

Baekhyun, surprisingly, didn’t call, or text that night. You pouted to yourself as you lay in bed, cuddled on top of Bruin. You had gotten used to his relatively constant presence. In fact, if you concentrated, you could almost smell the scent of his cologne. An errant summer breeze blew in through your open window, rustling the leaves in the tree beside it. You closed your eyes, and drifted away, thoughts filled with a strong, slender man with smiling cheeks, and dark charcoal smudges for eyes.

***

You were putting the finishing touches on your light makeup when you received a text.

“I’m outside. Should I come in, and greet your father?”

“What am I, 16? I’ll be right out”

He smiled softly at you, as you got into the car, his eyes affectionate. “Ahhh. There you are,” he said meaningfully.

“Here I am.”

“You’re so pretty.”

Blushing, you said, “You look pretty, yourself.” He was wearing a black tee shirt tucked, in the front, into a pair of ripped black jeans.

He gave you a chastising look. “I am not pretty. I am a handsome man!”

“Sure you are,” you teased, pinching his cheek.

He pretended to bite you, and then grinned as he put his arm behind your seat, and turned around to ensure the way was clear to reverse down the driveway. Your face stayed neutral, but inside your stomach felt like a roller coaster. Didn’t guys know what that did to a poor girl?

“Have you eaten?”

You wanted to lie, but were unfortunately, a relatively honest person. “Ah, not really?” You couldn’t eat when you were nervous, but you had forced yourself to eat some soup earlier in the day, so that your stomach wouldn’t make any embarrassing noises on your date.

“Good.” He gestured to the backseat. “I brought food. I figured that we could have a picnic.”

You looked in the backseat to see a real, live, actual picnic basket, and cooed. “That basket is so cute!”

He grinned, pleased. “Don’t worry, the food is from my mother. She usually comes over once a week to keep me in side dishes, to ensure that I don’t starve to death.” You didn’t want to show it, but your face must have belied your thoughts. “Wow! Do you have to look so relieved?”

“Well, you did say that you burned most of what you made, so…”

He cocked his head. “Fair enough.”

***

You both decided to eat first, and sat at a picnic table by the lake.

“Ah, before we eat…” You took some mosquito repellent from your purse, and sprayed him down. “No malaria on my watch.”

“Ah, thanks. My skin is pretty sensitive, so it gets marked, and bruised fairly easily.”

You smiled awkwardly, trying keep your thoughts from wandering down the path that statement led. “My skin isn’t sensitive at all, but unfortunately, it does show bites and marks too well.”

Baekhyun smiled to himself as he spread all of the food on the picnic table. “Do you know what all of this is?”

“Um…well, I see kimbap, what looks like the tiniest little baby boiled eggs I’ve ever seen, gaeran mari, kimchi, rice, and a lot of things I can’t name, though I can tell what the ingredients are.”

He nodded in approval. “You know Korean food?”

You laughed. “Eh, I know food. I love to cook. I love to cook everything. I even know how to cook some meat, even though I don’t eat it. I make it for my dad, and for friends, at holidays.”

He placed his hand over his heart. “I’m so relieved. I was terrified that you would be feeding me kale smoothies all the time.”

“Ehhh, no. I don’t torture others. Anymore.”

You laughed, but Baekhyun’s face froze for an instant, before smoothing over, as he reached to pick up his chopsticks. “Let me tell you what everything is.” After he was finished, he asked, “So, can you not have any sort of starchy foods?”

“No, I can, I just have to eat them sparingly, and exercise a lot to ensure that I burn off all of the calories, so that nothing sticks around to wreak havoc with my system.”

“Well, we’ll walk a lot today. The trail is six miles. Is that okay?”

You nodded. “It should be fine.” The food was delicious, and he watched you, smiling, as you tried everything. “Your mom is such a good cook! Can I marry her?”

“She taken, but I’m free.”

“If you cooked like this, I’d consider it.”

He laughed softly. “What I lack in cooking skills, I make up for in other ways.”

“Such as?”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Mmm…I put down the toilet seat.”

You gasped, your hand over your heart. “Take me now, you fool!”

He started to climb over you, “Welp, if you insist.”

You giggled, and pushed him back down. “What else you got?”

“Mmm…I put my dirty clothes in the dirty hamper, instead of on the floor?”

“Wow, pretty good; but you’ll have to do better than that.”

He smiled, and looked at you sideways. Then he began to sing. Your smile slowly dropped as you listened. His voice was…lovely. Light, and agile, but with a dark, husky undertone that he occasionally brought to the fore, making you shiver, as you closed your eyes, letting his voice wash over you in gentle waves. You were silent as he trailed off. You felt emotional, though you didn’t know why—the song hadn’t even been in English. You slowly opened your eyes, and swallowed hard, trying not to tear up like a crazy person.

“What was that?”

“I Don’t Know Anything but Love.”

You leaned back—you hadn’t even realized that you had leaned forward during his song. “Wow. That, uh, music major really paid off.”

“You like my voice?”

“I thought I did. Now, I’m halfway in love. You’re dead. Now I’ll be calling you all the time, asking for lullabies.”

His eyes were warm. “I have no problem with that. As long as you sing to me, sometimes, too.”

You blushed, and looked down at the chopsticks still in your hands, food forgotten. “Oh…you are a charmer,” you murmured.

He leaned back, and patted your leg, leaving a scorching handprint on your knee. “Eat more.” You took a spoonful of rice, and he took his chopsticks, and placed some of the soybean dish on it. You looked at him. “Eat,” he smiled. You obediently put the spoon in your mouth, smiling back, happier than you had been in a long time.

You two chatted about the normal first date things—favourite colours, foods, seasons—answering and asking all of the light, getting-to-know-you questions. When the time seemed right, you decided to broach the topic of his constant gifts.

“What’s your love language?”

“Hm?”

“Your love language.”

“What’s that?”

You shifted to face him, straddling the bench seat. “Well, there’s this school of thought that there are five ways, or languages, that we use to express love, and certain people prefer certain methods over others. So, these love languages are acts of service, quality time, receiving gifts, words of affirmation, and physical touch. And—despite how they sound—receiving gifts doesn’t mean, like, expensive gifts, or even purchased gifts, but just little thoughtful things to let the person know that you’re thinking of them, and physical touch doesn’t mean, just…” you waved your hand delicately, “you know…but just being cuddly, and touchy-feely in general. Oh, and you can have more than one.”

He looked thoughtful, and was silent for a few moments after you spoke. “I guess, mine are,” here he grinned at you, looking all the world like a naughty little boy trying to charm someone out of a cookie before dinner, “physical touch, words of affirmation, and quality time. What are yours?”

“Well, I really like acts of service. I mean, I also like quality time—I really, I mean like, really like attention–but growing up with a single father, I understand when work, and other things, have to come first, so…though I love quality time, I understand when I can’t get it.”

He looked serious. “What happened to your mother?”

“Well, to be honest, my dad was kind of a serial cheater? I mean, he was a great dad—don’t get me wrong—but an objectively horrible husband. They divorced when I was four, and she went on to start a new life. We keep in touch regularly—she’s still my mom—it’s just…sometimes, I think that talking to me is painful, because I remind her so much of my dad.”

He was silent for a long while, and then said, “So…we both like quality time.”

You nodded, grateful for the change of subject, “It seems that we do.”

“And you did not say ‘receiving gifts’.”

“Fancy that.”

“Is that what this whole spiel was about?”

You tried to look as innocent as possible. “Hm?”

“Hey, give me some credit. Ahh!” He roughly rubbed the back of his hair in frustration. “Alright! Alright! I’ll stop buying you things.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank you!”

“Is it really so hard to accept them, though?”

“It is, for me…”

“So, you don’t like gifts period?”

“No… No. I don’t mind them from my parents, obviously, or other family members. But that’s…different. I’m…used to them taking care of me.” You looked down, shy for some reason.

He tilted his head, so that he could look into your eyes. “I want to take care of you.”

“That’s not your job.”

“But I enjoy it.”

“I’m uncomfortable with the idea of you spending your hard earned money on me. You should be spending it on yourself.”

“Isn’t that too selfish?”

“Then be selfish.”

Baekhyun sighed in frustration, and then shook his head. “I’ll follow you.” He grinned. “For now. So, you don’t like words of affirmation, either?”

“It’s not that I don’t…I just don’t like compliments about…me, physically? Like, I don’t mind compliments on my food, or my work, if I make something—“

“What do you make?”

“Different things. As I said, I like to cook. I can draw, and paint. I guess I like compliments on what I produce, rather than me, myself.”

“Praise the art, not the artist?”

“Something like that.”

He sighed deeply. “But what to do? I like everything about you. Do I keep it all inside?” He leaned closer, and his voice dropped, “Or do I train you to accept praise?”

You cleared your throat, as discomfited by his proximity, as by his suddenly intimate tone. You wondered if he had suddenly sidetracked to a different conversation. You latched onto the only thing that would allow you to break the sudden tension. You scoffed. “Train me? I’m all grown up, and done being trained, boy.”

He smiled broadly at your riposte, holding your gaze, while putting his hand on the bench, dangerously close to the apex of your thighs, and leaning even closer. You could feel the heat radiating off of his arm, and you swallowed involuntarily, but held your ground. Softly, softly, he whispered, “Are you? Are you really all done being trained, little doe? Do you…already know…everything?”

You blinked, unable to come up with a clever answer, due to his closeness, the warmth of his breath fanning against your face, the scent of his light, clean cologne wafting around your head, making it hard to think. You pressed together your lips, and looked up at him mutinously. He had you, again. Why was it so hard to think when he was near?

His eyes dropped to your mouth, and his breath hitched. You blinked, wide eyed, as he tilted his head consideringly, then closed his eyes, and leaned back. He smiled, and then opened his eyes. “Have you finished eating?”

You nodded, mute, not trusting your voice, watching him as he began to pack. Your eyes followed him as he returned the basket to the car, and sauntered back to you, his walk slow, and confident. When he reached you, he held out his hand to help you off of the bench, and walked backwards, guiding you to the beginning of the trail, overhung by a copse of trees. You were engulfed in shade as you walked past the perimeter of the picnic area, the air several degrees cooler in the woods surrounding the trail. He let go of your hand, and moved beside you, both of you walking at a leisurely pace.

Suddenly he stopped, wrapping an arm around your waist, completely arresting your progress, and brought his mouth to your ear. “Don’t move,” he breathed. You held completely still, unsure of what was happening. After a few seconds, he whispered. “Look straight ahead, about 10’, to the right of the path.”

You looked ahead, at first not seeing anything, but then gasped softly when you saw it. A brown baby bunny, standing on his hind legs, one shiny black eye watching the both of you. Your breath quickened, as you tried to control your excitement. “It’s so cute!”

You felt his lips against your ear as he smiled. “You like bunnies?”

“I like most animals.” The shadow of a bird passed over the bunny, who turned tail, and ran. You whined in disappointment. “Awww, come back bunny! I love you!”

Baekhyun moved away from you, grinning, and started to walk again. “Ah, you’re so cute!”

You kept pace with him. “Not baby bunny cute.”

“Cuter.”

“Lies.”

***

You spent the rest of the trail looking for more animals, having found, by the end of it, five more baby bunnies, three fawns, innumerable squirrels, four raccoons, a group of ducks sunning themselves by the shore of the lake around which the trail wrapped itself, two herons, one fat skunk and, as the light began to fail, two possums, and a partridge in a pear tree. You both made a game over who could spot the animal before it ran, and you beat him thoroughly, though he later swore that you cheated, as he drove you home.

You doubled over with laughter as you made your way out of his car, waiting for him to come around to you, to walk you to your door. He put one hand on your back, and one on your arm, looking to any passersby as if he were helping you, but in reality, he was whispering ridiculous, and hilarious, things into your ear, causing you to laugh until you cried.

“How can someone cheat at spotting animals?!” You wiped away tears, hoping that you didn’t look like a trash panda.

“I don’t know, maybe you made a deal with them in advance! I saw the way that second raccoon looked at you.” He pointed two fingers toward his eyes, and then toward your own. “He looked sneaky.”

You hooted indelicately. “How does a raccoon look sneaky?!”

“He managed. You paid him off, didn’t you?”

Your voice trembled as you tried to hold back your laughter. “Paid him in what?! Sardines?”

He clapped his hands. “See, I knew it! You just admitted it.”

You put your hand over your eyes, and moaned. “Please, stop, I can’t take it anymore. My stomach hurts.”

He muttered. “It hurts from the gnawing guilt of knowing that you’re a cheating cheater, who cheats.”

You started laughing silently, shoulders shaking as you envisioned meeting a raccoon in a dark alley, looking left and right furtively before opening your trench coat to show him a variety of different fishes. When you started to wheeze, he looked at you in alarm.

“Alright, that’s enough. I’m cutting you off.”

You gripped his shoulders, using his body to keep you from collapsing to the ground, your legs weak from lack of oxygen.

He smiled, watching you affectionately as you gasped for air, and then tried to calm yourself down. You had never been able to control your laughter. You knew that it wasn’t ladylike, but when something was uncontrollably funny, you couldn’t keep from throwing back your head, and laughing to your heart’s content.

Baekhyun watched your face as you panted, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I’m hilarious.”

You sighed tremulously, brushing the back of your hand against your forehead, and then turning it to rest your cool palm against your skin. “I’ll give you that.”

He took your hand away from your face, and held it. “Then will you also give me a second date?”

You smiled, your whole face lighting up in childlike pleasure. “Of course.”

He looked down at your hand in his, saying softly to himself, “Of course.” He looked back up at you, smiling widely. “How about we go to the Mercier Museum tomorrow, after I get off work?”

“Won’t you be tired?”

“It will give me something to look forward to.”

“How much is admission?”

He looked at you mock-reproachfully, nudging you with his elbow. “Hey, this is Museum Week! All museums in the state are free. You thought that I didn’t listen, didn’t you? Wow, this girl!” He shook his head in offense. “Don’t you have any faith in me? I spent hours looking up free things to do!” he teased.

You grinned. “I’m so sorry! How shall I ever make it up to you?”

“Give me one of your pretty smiles.” You rolled your eyes, but smiled. “Good girl.” You chuckled as he squeezed your hand, and let go. “I guess I should let you get inside.”

“I guess…”

He looked at you sideways, the fringe of his hair casting a shadow over his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head almost imperceptibly and made a courtly little bow. “I’ll see you later.”

Smiling warmly, you let yourself inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

You were surprised when you received a text later that night, just as you were snuggling into bed. It was a video from Baekhyun. You clicked on it to see him driving, his face rhythmically lit by passing streetlights.

After a pause, “Here’s tonight’s lullaby. Listen well, and get a good night’s sleep. Don’t stay up too late.” He began to sing.

The moment you stood next to me, I liked it so much, how you looked at me, yesterday. Though I cried today because of you, tomorrow I will be happy.

It’s not about the face, not about the chic, no no. What I needed was only a gentle love, forgetting all the time flowing. Now without you, I can’t do anything. I don’t know anything but love.

For me, who was abandoned without even thinking. The one person that cried for me, from the dream where I long to lean behind those shoulders. Please don’t wake up.

I’ve always waited for this day. As much as the sorrowful time, please hold me, ‘cause you might fade away like that wind I had longed for. I love you. And I want to see you again, if we are parted I like you so much.

A/N: If you want the latest updates, and links for ease of reading, then follow me @vampwrrr

#Baekhyun fluff #exo #baekhyun #Baekhyun scenarios #exo scenarios #exo fluff #Baekhyun angst #exo angst #Baekhyun fics #exo fics #Baekhyun fanfiction #exo fanfiction #Baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #Baekhyun fic #exo fic #dark baekhyun #sweet lies

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jpat82 · 6 years

Text

Chosen

Chapter 13

You were lucky to find someone to give you a ride to the warehouse that Hydra owned. The only home you had known, the man at the door outside jaw dropped as you walked up. A steady drizzle had fallen since your harrowing escape from the wolves in the woods, the dress clinging tight to your skin, tattered and muddy. Your hair plastered to the side of your face, you probably looked like hell.

"Y/n! We thought we were dead!" He stated, pressing the number into the key pad that allowed you access in.

"No, quite alive." You smiled shakily as you entered, the cold seeped from the outside of the warehouse inside.

You walked down the corridor, your bare feet making a soft slapping sound as they touched the cold cement floor. Every thing was so dimly lit, and nothing but metal, making you almost wish to be back in James's home. But you didn't belong there, you weren't one of them, this was your home, and your team.

Once you came to the end of the corridor you turned and started down toward the main part, knowing Rumlow would want to see you. There was no doubt in your mind that when Fury sent a message about a missing persons report it would of been about you. It was something Hydra did when one of there own went on a mission and failed to return, that was if a body didn't come up. Most of the time though, the body would always turn up.

You tried to remember how many of your team members you had lost through the years, but there had been so many, you had lost count. Even as child, you never could keep track of how many people had come and gone, one day here and then never to be seen again. Odds are they were all dead, a fact you accepted as a preteen, it was then that your training began. They took you on a mission right off the bat, using you as lure for the vampires, not ones like James's family but others that still roamed the world that preyed on the living regardless.

Eventually you learned how to fight back, how to kill the ones 'created' as you had learned. Silver, stakes, beheading, there was various ways to take out your average vampire and you had learned them all by your sixteenth birthday and had well over a dozen kills under your belt. Even then though, you longed for a life in which you didn't face creatures of the night, and dreamed of a family, a family that had each other's back.

You stopped as you hit the main door that would lead you to the office, a chill ran down your spine and for once you almost wished that he was here.

——

"What do you mean she isn't here?" James responses harshly, throwing open the door to his room. His eyes scanned the room anger and panic began to take hold in his chest, he turned on his heel looking at Sam.

"I don't know, I came up here to check on her cause you were gone a while and I know humans need to eat but she was missing." Sam replied stepping out of the way as James brushed passed him, Steve taking a heavy breath and following the man.

"Did you check the library?" He demanded storming to the opposite side of the building toward the balcony that over saw the library. He threw open the doors, they squeaked in protest as his steps crossed the threshold. "Y/n!"

"Yes, this was the first place I checked cause Clint said he seen you and her come in here earlier this evening." Sam replied, watching as James rushed down the winding staircase to the main floor.

"Has anybody checked the garden shed?" He asked, looking around turning in one spot. His eyes landing on the window, the moon slowly starting to slip behind the trees as the sky started to lighten.

"Vision said he checked that place first." Steve spoke up at Sam's confusion.

"Wanda hasn't seen her since Tony's lab either, I asked her already." Sam added, watching as James ran his hands through his hair letting out a growl in frustration.

The door on the main floor of the library opened and Natasha waltzed in. Red brushed velvet dress hugging her curves as she walked over to James. She smiled at him, sliding her hand up his arm.

"James, you're tense, is everything okay?" She cooed.

"Have you seen y/n?" He asked turning to face her. Her body stiffened and the smile fell from her face as she stared up at him.

"No, can't say that I have." Her reply was short, and she took a deep breath. "Bucky, why are you focused on her? She doesn't want to be here, she made that very clear and how much she detests us."

"Natasha you wouldn't understand, I need to find her." He replied pulling away and heading to the door. "And she doesn't detest us, she's learning."

"She's still a hunter!" She yelled at him, eyes flicking red. James stopped at the door, his grip tightening on the frame. "And they need to be dealt with, not treated like some kind of queen."

"Nat.." he growled but Clint came barreling in, his chest heaving as his eyes landed on the red head before focusing on James.

"She's gone." Clint stated, taking a deep breath. "Through the woods, Thankfully Thor found her quiet cute and friendly and decided she needed wet sloppy kisses instead of being dinner like Loki thought."

"Why was she in the forest?" James's eyes began to brighten as anger slowly started to gain control through his body. Clint's eyes flicked from the man to the woman behind him. Slowly James turned his head looking over his shoulder to Natasha who stood straight, crossing her arm in front of her chest. He hissed out. "You!"

"She doesn't deserve you Bucky." She replied coolly. "You deserve someone who cares and understands you. Someone who doesn't hate our kind."

"Someone who cares and understands me?" James whispered in disbelief. "Someone who cares wouldn't of sent her out into the woods, because she matters to me. And you think you could possibly understand me Natasha? If you did you would never have turned her out, and let the wolves on her."

"Bucky." She started but was cut off by the look he gave her, one that he saved for the human who tried to destroy him.

"She better not get hurt or I will hold you responsible for this." He growled as he left the room.

——

You stood in the office, eyes focused on the grey wall before you as you waited for Rumlow. The room was drab, a dull grey covered all the walls and ceilings, no pictures. The desk in the center was a beat up black, edges chipped and missing, the stack of papers in the corner neatly placed. Behind the desk was an old worn leather chair, probably picked up after some building had closed down.

Growing up every thing was grey, and dull. Your toys consisted of repairing daggers, knives, gun, swords, even cross bows at one point. Long hours and days spent by yourself without anyone to talk to, that was till they took you out and used you as bait. You heard the door click open behind you, startling you of your thoughts, the soft sound it made as it shut behind you suddenly made you uncomfortable.

"Y/n, you made it back." Rumlow's deep voice came from behind you, sending a cold shiver through your spine. You found yourself missing the warmth of James's voice, something your commander never had.

"Yes sir." You responded staring at the same spot on the wall you always had.

"Beautiful dress, shame it was ruined." He said as he came into view and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. "Where did you get it?"

"There was a family in the woods, they took me in after the explosion." You half lied, your eyes never leaving the spot on the wall.

"You want to try that with out the lie." He stated, your eyes shot down to him. He was leaned back in his chair, staring up at you. "Bucky doesn't just let anyone go, he didn't turn you did he?"

"No, he didn't." You told him, you paused a moment. "What do you know about ancients?"

"Oh, he told you what he was." Rumlow smirked sitting forward resting his elbows on the desk. "That up until four hundred years ago there were more, Hydra has wiped all but him out. Every hundred or so years we try and take down as much of his pack as possible. He goes on the rampage and cuts the population down in the area he lives, helps with resources. But he moves afterward so it becomes a bitch to find him."

"You kill his family because of population control?" You asked bewildered, blinking a couple of times.

"Well not exactly, we do it in time of war mostly. But since none are around population control it is, plus we like to remind him we still control this planet not his kind." Rumlow shrugged talking about the subject of murder like it was the weather. You felt the bile in your stomach start to raise, to even think you had been proud to be a hunter was making you sick.

"Do you know why we chose you?" He asked, standing from his desk and coming to you. He brought his hand up, grasping your shoulders making you want to recoil in disgust.

"Cause I'm an idiot and volunteered to be thrown to someone who is all but immortal without the proper knowledge of what he was?" You snapped back, pulling yourself free.

"Not for the mission, oh no, you were chosen because of what you are." He sneered, looking down at you. "It's all in your genetics."

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shield-agent78 · 5 years

Text

Linguistics Chapter 4: Fight For It

Summary: Ema is a linguists specialist who works at the newest SHIELD facility in upstate New York. She has been trough a lot of hard times. Soon she meets a super soldier with a metal arm that she can’t get enough of and the feeling is very mutual. This is my first fan fiction. Enjoy! I do not own any of the Marvel characters. I own Ema and the plot.

Paring: Bucky X OC (Ema)

Warnings: Fluff, language, PTSD, some jealousy, mentions of sex

A/N: Please tag and re-blog so I can share my work with others. I appreciate any comments. This is also posted on Wattpad Thanks!

Fall had finally arrived to New York. That meant changes in weather, leaves and missions. Now this might not be new for those who actually experience these wonders, however for me being from Louisiana this was a real change. I was usually in shorts to past Halloween, now I was pulling my favorite fall outfits. Today it was an my tall brown boots, brown leggings, and my favorite longer silk shirt.

The compound was too quiet today allowing me to finish my reports in record time, especially since my workload had been cut down to just one person instead of three being that Steve and Natasha were in Nepal. Therefore, I wondered the compound discovering various labs, visiting with Tony who had made one of his rare appearances and now working my way to the private gym that belonged to two super soldiers. As I approached it I heard music as well as the muffled hits of a punching bag. I smiled knowing who was already in there, I stood leaning against the door frame biting my lip while watching Bucky hit a boxing bag into pieces. His chestnut hair pulled up half way. His body covered with a maroon tee shirt while a pair of dark gray sweatpants hung low on his waist. He hung another bag onto the chain and began yet another brutal attack on it as I watched from the doorway. He was focused as sweat ran down the side of his face. I bit my bottom lip watching him train.

I decided he needed a break. Training is great, but I think I could offer a distraction. I quietly walked up behind him and put my arms around his waist. I felt Bucky stiffened for a moment but a smirk appeared on his face. A couple of lighter hits on the bag occurred as I hung onto his waist.

“Does this mean your coming to train with me?” He asked punching the bag some as his blue orbs found my eyes in the gym mirror wall. I gave him a flirtatious smile.

“Not a chance solider. Just taking in the view.” His chest rumbled with amusement as he gave the bag a few more lighter hits. I bit my lip again as I watched his eyes dart from me to the punching bag. I moved his shirt up to the middle of his back and began kissing and licking up his back and back down to his waist. Bucky immediately stopped what he was doing and placed his hands on the bag with his eyes closed. He breathed deeply. By the third time, of me moving my lips up his back he was tired of my teasing. Within a matter of seconds, I found myself spun around against the gym mirrored wall. His lips crashing into mine making sure his tongue explored my mouth. The kiss deep and full of desire that I hadn’t felt from him before.

My hands distinctly went to his hair as I moaned out his name almost like a prayer. "Ja-mes." Bucky broke the kiss and looked me up down.

(Bucky POV)

"Always hated being called James but god I love the way you say it." I licked his lips and looked at Ema. "I have been meaning to ask you something now for a while now," I reached my right hand over my neck taking off my dog tags before placing it around her hers. "Would you to be my best girl?" Our foreheads now touching.

"I think you already know my answer sergeant," she said as she reached up and gently stroked my face.

“Want to hear it from you Doll.”

“Yes, James. I’m yours,” she said with a smile. I looked into her eyes and then closed them as she kissed me.

(October... Ema POV)

Bucky had taken over a small apartment in the compound so that when he came home late from a mission he could crash there for the night. It also helped him if he needed to get away from everyone. Over the last month, I had seen him struggle with PTSD and helped him as much as I could. I found him there late one morning watching T. V. He asked me to stay with him as I curled up to him on his leather couch watching his newest favorite movies the Die Hard trilogy. By the middle of the second movie he had fallen asleep with his arm draped over me in a protective manner. Three missions in less than a month had him exhausted. “Baby let me up,” I groaned as I tried to move his left arm off me.

"Hey doll where are you going?" He voice gruff from sleep.

"Home and you are going to bed." I said giving him a little smile.

"I rather you come to bed with me." Well this was a first. I gaped at him a moment.

“Augh wh-what did you just say?” Bucky just gave me a chuckle.

“I said I would rather you come to bed with me,” his blue eyes flashing and lip turned up into a little smirk.

“You know that is something I would may consider doing Sergeant however I don’t think we need to discuss it now with you being so tired.” He grabed my hand and pulled me back down on the sofa as he propped himself up with his left arm.

“It’s real simple Ema especially after yesterday“ I slowed hard.

“I have no ideal what you mean James,” I teased.

“Oh I think you do. ‘Cause me and you both know we are both not that innocent sweetheart.” I broke into a grin.

“Where would you come up with that idea?”

“I don’t know maybe because of us making out in the supply closet yesterday when we were expose to be doing inventory in the lab. If I recall you and I both know where our hands were.”

“Ye-yes it’s just ugh because you had been gone for a while. Besides I didn’t know you were even thinking about that and well and you see ugh…” my lips rambled. James just looked at me in amuzement cocking his eyebrows at me. I guess he finally got enough. He placed his right hand in my cheek caressing it softly. I closed my eyes and lent into his touch.

“Trust me Doll I ant going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

Yes I know,” I signed. But oh how I want you too.

“Besides we don’t have to be in any hurry I just thought we should tal-…”

For some stupid reason blurted out my thoughts currong him off. “You got a condom? If not we could wait until I see the doc tomorrow and I can take care of it then?” I gaped and blushed at my own words. Bucky gave me a grin as I dropped my head into the crook of his neck. “Sorry mouth overload. I think it’s an Louisiana trait but I can’t swer by it. Oh god James I really didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“As tired as I am I think after your doctors appointment is good; besides it’s fine Doll. We don’t have to rush into this.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled into his neck. His chest rumbled in a quiet chuckle. I leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on his lips and stood up making my way to his door.

"Sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

“Night Doll.”

————————————————————————

Hours had passed since I had left Bucky. Natasha and I were working together fixing supper in the compound kitchen. Steve sat at the bar going over files for a new mission of rouge H.Y.D.R.A operatives. I had just put the hamburgers on to cook but was stopped by F.R.I.D.A.Y., "Ema, Mr. Barns has asked you to come to his room." I looked at the clock, 5 PM. "Ya ok tell him I'm on my way." Steve gave me a grin and took over the burgers so I could go and check on Bucky.

Several moments later I was standing outside his door. “F.R.I.D.A.Y unlock Barns door for me.” The locks clicked and I walked inside closing it behind me. I found him where I had left him, still on the couch. His body flinched and shook.

"EMA! GET AWAY!! NO!!"

I jumped at the sound of his scream and ran to him, shaking him. "Buck. Buck. Bucky!!" I shook him again trying to wake him. He opened his eyes in a flash his face cold and void of emotion. "Oh God, this isn't good." I jumped back. Bucky quickly stood up and looked at me. It was like he didn't know me for a moment. I backed away from him the back of my legs hitting the table behind me.

The super soldier took two giant steps towards me letting out a loud grunt. In one swift movement, he reached his metal arm around my right arm flipping me over the table onto the ground. "Ouch!!" Pain shot through my body. That would leave a bruise. Now flat on my back, I tried to plan out my next move. His eyes locked onto me like I was his target. I looked up at him and yelled. "BUCK! SNAP OUT OF IT!! IT'S ME, EMA!!!" Bucky reached down to grab me again but stopped. I took a deep breath. He blinked his eyes trying to fight off the confusion.

"Jesus, Ema. What did I do?" His hands and voice shook as he helped me up and immediately let go of me. I stood there rubbing my arm. I looked down at the floor as I tried to control my breathing. "Are you ok? Baby, please say something. What did I do?" I looked up to see concern and anger flooding his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair as I let out a breath.

"I'm ok," I said still rubbing my arm. "You had a nightmare and I tried to wake you and. . ." Bucky took a deep breath and sat back down on his couch.

"Let me see your arm." Oh no, I thought. I knew that tone. The forceful one he used with the task force. I showed him with reluctance. It was already starting to bruise. He sat there for a moment looking down while running his hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry . . . I'm so sorry."

"James it's fine. I've had worse from training with you and Steve." I lied.

"You're not a good liar you know." He stated his blue eyes shoting up to mine.

Bucky pulled me onto his lap. He looked at my arm once more and gritted his teeth. "You need to stay away from me. Far away. I can't be with you." He spoke with a firm voice trying to hold back his anger with himself.

"What the hell, Barns? Just because of this." It came out harsh and I knew it, nor did I care. "Do you realize what you mean to me and I know you feel the same way." I pulled away from him and got up so I could face him.

"I could hurt you or worse yet kill you! Don't you get it, Ema!" I jumped. He knew he had scared me. He bit his lip. I knew it was pain talking and PTSD, not Bucky.

"No, you don't get it! I've been there. No not like you Buck but yes I do know! You're scared, so am I, but it our relationship and it is worth the risk." Angry tears began to fill my eyes.

"You know nothing about this," he snapped at me now with that forceful tone again. "Just leave, get out!!" His jaw was clenched.

I blinked away tears as he sat staring at me. I turned and left slamming his apartment door behind me. I quickly made my way down the hall to the open kitchen area of the joint apartments. Steve and Natasha looked up from the files they were going over and gave me concern looks as I walked towards the bar area. I knew that they had most likely heard everything. I held up my head, tears now streaming down my face that I quickly brushed away. Natasha left her seat st the bar and quickly moved over to me pulling me into a small side hug.

Natasha's POV:

It took me about two seconds to figure out what just happen. I held on to Ema for a moment as we heard heavy footfall coming down the hall. Bucky soon appeared in the common room. I let go of Ema and turned to face him.

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writerleo86 · 3 years

Text

Armor Champions Super R - Episode 160 (Do Not Copy)

The three champions -- Desoto, Billy, and Carla -- followed the mysterious man in the hood into a large cave which was beneath the ruins of the enemy's hideaway.

The trio surrounded him as the hooded foe said in a calm voice "I have you, Desoto Martin, to myself."

Billy of the IceDome lowered his fists and informed him "You can cut the crap. I originally came in case of an ambush. But it seems that wasn't necessary. You are the only one here."

Carla of the GoldenGrail looked around and reported "You're right Billy. The only ki I feel here are the four of us."

Billy gave out a nonchalant smile and replied "Then it seems that I'm here to protect you."

"You came to protect me?" The hooded man questioned.

"You may have stopped him from using his paralysis techniques for a while," Billy assessed. "But that is just half of Desoto's abilities. He has more tricks up his sleeves. Don't screw with us."

Desoto of the BlackShadow faced the enemy while in his battle stance. And he yelled "My friend's right ya know! I got more in my bag o' tricks. I still got da advantage here!"

"Wow!" The hooded man told him. "That right there. That is one of the reasons why I have always hated you, Desoto Martin."

Armor Champions Super R -- Episode 160: The Fallen Angel Arc -- Stuck in the Past

First, Desoto analyzed him for a moment.

"Dude!" He yelled. "I got no idea who da hell you are! Can you give me hints or somethin'?"

Billy folded his arms in front of him and asked "Are we suppose to know who you are?"

"Not you Blondie," The hooded man implied. "Desoto... This degenerate knows who exactly I am."

Desoto soon pointed his left finger to his lips and cried "Lemme say again. I dunno wat yer talkin' about! Ya hear me?"

Then the hooded man placed his fists forward and shouted "Maybe this will remind you!"

And a long barrage of small metallic objects shaped as teeth flew from his gauntlets as the man called out "Concealed Art -- Jaguar Mimicry Technique!"

Carla of the GoldenGrail hurried to the front of Desoto. She waved her right hand in a crescent pattern. And a large ball of clear energy formed before her which vaporized the enemy's projectiles instantly.

After her barrier vanished, Desoto formed a circle with his left hand to his mouth.

"Dark Release..." He yelled. "Black Flamingo Fire!"

And he blew a barrage of small purple energy toward his opponent. The hooded man had dodged every projectile using evasive maneuvers such as cartwheels, rolls, and flips.

Afterwards, the enemy jumped above and tried to strike Desoto using a long metallic whip from his right gauntlet.

"Concealed Art..." He yelled. "Power Thorn!"

Desoto spun around and stopped the sharp end of the weapon using a Left Heel Kick.

While he was still above the champions, the mysterious warrior lifted his right hand and a large spiral of pale-blue energy formed around him.

"What is this?" questioned Carla.

"Dis move," Desoto thought. "I know dis!"

Ten grenades fell from the light toward them. And the three heroes hurried into the air as they all exploded.

"Desoto?" called Billy.

"I know!" Desoto yelled. "Dat's da summonin' Joey does!"

"Could it be..." Billy asked. "...that this guy is from the Spade family?"

The trio floated in the air as Desoto said "Dat can be! I gotta know for sure!"

And Desoto flew directly for the hooded enemy as if he were a missile.

"Is he crazy?" cried Carla. "Desoto knows that you can't fight him in close-range!"

Two long spears shot from the blue light of the hooded man. First, it was Desoto that dodged the twin projectiles with his great speed. Then both Billy and Carla retreated to different sides.

"Maybe Desoto has something in mind," Billy implied.

"I hope for our own sakes," said Carla.

As soon as the determined Desoto flew closer, the hooded man fired small needles from his gauntlets after his blue light faded.

"I'll finish you like I did that traitor Ronan!" The hooded man yelled.

A globe of black energy soon formed around his right fist as Desoto shouted "Take dis, ya lil' bastard!"

And the boy in black armor struck the chest of the enemy with his glowing fist as Desoto called out "Black Fire Chaser!"

Then a large explosion formed between the two opposites. Desoto hurried away and watched the giant explosion continue.

Finally, the smoke cleared and a shaken Desoto spotted only the dark coat falling to the ground.

"I will do better next time!"

Desoto looked forward and found someone floating behind the rest of the black smoke.

The other champions spotted the person as well and Billy asked "Just who the hell is this guy?"

After the smoke completely faded, Desoto stared at the person while in shock.

"You!" The cowboy yelled. "I shoulda known! Ya ain't changed a bit!"

"Desoto?" asked Carla. "Do you know this person?"

And an angered Desoto said "Oh yeah I do. Dis tells me why he's like our Joey."

The new foe appeared as a young man with light skin, golden eyes, and short white hair. He wore a dark top with long sleeves, tight dark pants, and black boots.

"I dunno who's crazier, you or Dames!" Desoto commented. "It's da same wit' both of ya. It's always jealously! I know I'm right!"

During one nightfall, three people faced each other on an old road.

Two of them at the right side were the cousins Desoto and Joey. And the other standing at the other side was the white-haired boy.

Joey wore a white tee-shirt, white shorts, and no shoes. And he had an injury on his left arm.

Desoto wore a long green tee-shirt, tight blue jeans, and brown Cowboy-boots.

The other boy had on a white tee-shirt, white pants, and white socks. And he had stitches covering his right cheek.

An angry Desoto stood by Joey's right side as the white-haired boy faced the ground with tears falling from his golden eyes.

"Swan!" The boy cried. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for what happened. I would have sacrificed my life to keep you safe!"

"SHUT UP!" Desoto yelled. "Dis is da last time! Joe ain't goin' anywhere wit' ya again! Stay da hell away from my cousin! I ain't gonna let ya sink yer claws on him no more!"

The white-haired boy cried "But?"

He soon fell to his knees as Joey called out his name.

"Screw him Joe!" Desoto told his cousin. "He's nothin' but trouble! Dis viper's sucked da life outta ya! Not anymore!"

"Ya snake!" Desoto yelled. "Why don't ya crawl back where ya belong Bastard!"

"So?" Carla questioned. "Desoto knows this man too well?"

Desoto pointed his right finger to the enemy as he told his friends "Dis is da bastard dat ruined Joe's life over-and-over!"

And the cowboy lowered his head as he asked "Ain't dat right, Kyle Troi?"

The enemy gave out a sinister smile and Billy informed Carla "Joey's ex. That answers how he knows the same abilities as Joey. He and Joey were assassin at one time. The Spade family were the ones that taught this guy everything Joey knows, including the circle of light he did. That is an ability that summons any type of weapons he chooses. And the person can just throw the weapons as projectiles at any number of opponents."

And Billy thought to himself "But I never thought this guy would ever work for the Devil we're facing."

Desoto cried "So wat da hell made ya come outta yer cave Troi? Yer hate for me?"

"Agis Basileus came to me out of the blue," Troi explained. "Once I heard about this Angel of the New, I wanted in. I provided not only weaponry, but the science behind what has made us invincible."

"You're the one..." cried Billy. "...that made Nebula of Palamas tell everything about the Golden Eye."

Billy's thoughts:

Inside the living room of the old mansion, Nebula sat on the long couch and explained her journey. Meanwhile, every champion including Gei Allazar and Nina Kannon were around her.

"During my capture, I was placed under a form of hypnosis by someone in their camp. I never saw his face because it was hidden under a dark hood. He didn't use any abilities from his own energy. Instead, he had a different method -- Science. I felt that I was in a deep sleep. But my eyes remained open as my mouth revealed everything to him."

"You used your poisons..." Carla implied. "...to learn about everything from the Golden Eye of Hypnos to the boy that had the blood with its remains intact."

"I knew I was going to be rewarded for my part in this," Troi responded. "Once he has recreated the whole universe, Lord Azazel would let me have Swan as my one and only once again, using his... influence of course."

"Dis all goes back to Joey huh?" Desoto cried. "Knowin' my cousin ain't got no more love for ya, you went dis route? Man, yer a damn fool!"

"Joey is one of the smartest men I've every known," Billy told Troi. "He'll see through that. I see you bastards all the time. Instead of being truthful, you use common manipulation."

The boy in blue armor gave out a quick chuckle and said "Yeah, Desoto and Joey told me all about you, Kyle Troi. You will use some lies, a little manipulation, and other things just to get your way."

Troi shook his head and cried "And why does this concern you? The only person I want to kill is this guy right there -- Desoto, Joey's so-called protector."

Then the enemy asked Desoto "How many girls have you lied to this time?"

"Don't flip da switch on me," Desoto told him. "Da one still dreamin' is you Buddy."

Billy gave out another laugh and said "You're an idiot if you think Joey will go back to worthless worms like you."

Carla turned to Billy who was by her left side. And she thought "What is wrong with you? This is not the boy I met at the cookie shop."

Carla's thoughts:

At downtown, Billy walked out of a store and spotted a cookie shop at his right side. He soon found the mysterious girl Carla standing at a large glass window of the Look-So-Good store which was at his other side.

Then Billy walked to her and started by asking "Great weather we're having, Right?"

After that, the girl in yellow armor faced forward as she thought more.

Carla's thoughts:

During one night, a small ship had taken to the air that had the young guardians in armor including Carla of the GoldenGrail who guided the flying craft using only her mind.

After Kody of the HardRock walked off, Billy of the IceDome remained behind the young girl in yellow armor.

"So this boy..." Carla implied. "Casey Lowe. He must be dear to you."

Billy responded "He is. Casey is my little brother. Not by blood, but where it counts. My adopted father is really his. Casey didn't care about blood relation. He loved me either way, so did our dad."

Then Billy said "Honestly, I want to show the same love Salem had for me to him. Casey is the only link I have to my dad. I'd move through fire and sleet for that kid."

"But now," Carla continued. "This is a cruel and unbalanced version. What happened to the Billy these people loved and admired?"

She suddenly gave out a shocked look.

"Could it be?" She cried.

0 notes

saikostories · 3 years

Text

BTS - Accidents (Namjoon)

Being the leader was always hard. It was always going to be. You couldn’t sugar coat it. He had so much responsibility and all of that came crashing down.

Present day

“Rap Monster! Rap Monster!” A reporter pushed past through to the very front. BTS were having their usual Q&A for the press. They all smiled as he came with a small hand held recorder. He was probably from some tabloid or chick flic magazine that wanted gossip about concerts and production dates. Namjoon gave everyone a heads up that he would answer and let the reporter speak. “Sure what’s your question?” The reporter moved in closer until his whole body was stretching over the bar that seperated him and BTS. “How are you feeling after your recent car accident?” Suddenly everything for Namjoon stops and shifts. He felt his heart thud and all the other BTS members could see the shock horror on his face. All at once more reporters crammned in to get the intel on it. But that wasn’t what was bothering him. It was what he was remembering.

Three weeks ago

“Guys y/n is here!” Namjoon opened the front door carrying a large suitcase and behind him you followed in. Immediately everybody sprung to their feet to give you huge hugs and high fives. Namjoon went into the kitchen to let everyone catch up with you whilst he looked over admiringly at how well you all bonded. You did your usual goofy dance with them and then started to hand out gifts for everyone from places you had visited on your Gap year. You had just been accepted to go to Oxford University in London so this seemed like the perfect thing to do. As soon as everybody was all caught up you went onto the balcony to talk to Namjoon who seemed so eager to see you and talk to you. “So… How’s England?” he asked you. “Rainy all the bloody time.” You said in midst laughter. He hugged you and even though he towered above you in height, you loved smelling his strong cologne. He gently rubbed your head which was something he had a habbit of doing every now and again. “It’s dull and boring and to be fair I prefer being in Seoul.” He raises his eyebrows and laughs even more which you found always extremely adorable. “Really? wow I prefer London myself…” He said to you. “London’s okay…” You admitted to him. “I just hate the weather. That’s what makes it dull and boring.” He leans down and kisses you softly which was something that you missed. “Come on. We’re all going out to the beach. Want to come?” You nod and pull out your camera from your bag. “All set!”

Once you get down to the beach, you and the rest of BTS start walking along the beach, skipping stones and playing in the sand. It’s quite a long drive but you really don’t mind. You like watching the world go by and can’t complain by Namjoon’s choice of music. As soon as the sun starts dropping, you take out your camera and start taking photos of everybody. Some of Taehyung with his red and white hoodie; some of Jin and J-hope climbing trees; you took a few shots of Jimin eating ice cream and Jungkook in the water skipping stones; you even managed to capture some of a sleeping Suga. Namjoon took several photos of you too as you walked along the beach with your hair down and shoes off. In his eyes, you looked beautiful. You weren’t the thin and tall girl kind of girl that he had initially hoped for. You were really more of a chubby girl with a hight of 5ft7. But that was due to severe bullying that caused you to stress eat. Still, you were his girl and that was all that mattered. As you looked out to the sea, you felt someone hug you from behind. You looked up to see Namjoon. “This is nice.” You said calmly. “I missed ya lanky.” He laughed. “I missed ya too Shorty.”

Days went past and you would go everywhere you could with him. There were even some days where you would sit in rehearsal as they filmed dance practices for youtube. You loved it when they spoke korean but it was always hard to understand it because you couldn’t speak a single word of it. Namjoon always took the advantage of this and would tease you incandescently in Korean. After one practice, they all took a break and Namjoon went to sit by you. “Hai y/n.” “Hai Namjoon.” you repeated. He put his head onto your lap and closed his eyes whilst you rubbed his head. “Guess what?” He said still with his eyes closed. “What?” you said giggling. “I love you.” You stopped giggling and rubbing his head as you try to take in what he’s just said. “What?” You say slightly. Jimin and J-hope turn to watch you and smile as they know what’s happening. Everyone else then does the same. Namjoon sits up and looks at you in the eyes. “I really really really like you. So much that I love you.” You scan his face to see if it’s a joke but as he gives you that goofy smile of his, you can’t help but believe him. “I love you more.” You say after you kiss him softly on the lips. He smiles and kisses you again but you break apart when everybody starts to clap around you. You blush and feel tears prick your eyes. “Oh my god are you crying?” Namjoon says innocently. You shake your head and take off your glasses. “No my eyes are just leaking. I have a very strong prescription. You know that.” But you can’t help but let tears fall down your face. He wipes them away with his thumb and smiles sweetly. As soon as practice is over, you know that you can all go home. A part of you thinks you should drive considering that Namjoon is still so tired but he insists anyway.

You cruise down the road gently. Everything is so dark that the only thing illuminating the street is the dimmed streetlights. Everything is calm as you’re all talking to each other except for Namjoon who’s eyes are constantly on the road. But something feels wrong inside of you. Even Namjoon inside can sense it. “Are you okay?” You nod and he continues to focus on the road. Suddenly in the distance, you see a closed road sign. Namjoon hits the brakes all at once and you finally stop. You all breath a sigh of relief. “That was close.” He said laughing. But beside him, headlights illuminate the car and before you know it, another Car hits you in the side. You’re whole car is rocked and smashes ito a lamp post. Everybody is jerked to the right and glass around them is smashed everywhere. After a few minutes everyone starts to regain conciousness. Everybody seems to be fine. Suga looks over at Namjoon who has blood dripping from his forehead. “You okay bro?” He asks shaking him a little. “Yeah… Is everyone okay?” All the boys respond shakily yes. Thankfully nobody behind him is hurt. He looks over at you as you stare dowards towards your feet. Blood drips from the side of your head too and a little from the corner of your mouth. You also have samll cuts on your arms and face to where glass has cut you. Namjoon looks over, his vision blury. “y/n.” he says grogily. “y/n.” His sight starts to straighten as he starts to call your name more conifdently. “y/n.” he shakes you a little but you don’t lift your head up. He calls your name a little louder and shakes you harder. He lifts your head so it lies back but retracts it when he feels the coldness of your skin. “Whats wrong?” Jimin asks. But Namjoon ignores him and throws his seatbelt off. He slides closer to you to try and get a better look at you but he knows what’s happening in front of him. “No…. nooo….” He cups his shaking hands onto your face. “y/n. Y/N!”But no matter how much he calls you don’t answer him. "Please please PLEASE Y/N!” But again nothing. He rests his head on your chest as tears fall from his face. “Wake up. Please wake up! Please!” Everybody around him look over. Suga stares into space, Jungook and J-hope begin to cry. But Namjoon was determined what was happening wasn’t real. “I’m sorry… i’m so so sorry please please come back to me. Please.” In the distance police and ambulance sirens ring out as they come closer. Namjoon lifts his head and kicks the car door next you open. People from the car that hit you have climbed out to help carry you out of the car. Namjoon suddenly feels Jin stop him from coming over as the ambulance arrive. “No no NO NO! Y/N! Y/N!” Namjoon falls to the ground as Jin hugs him. He watches as a white sheet is put over your head and lifted off into the ambulance. You try to pull away but Jin has you down firmly hushing him to try and calm him down. “I’m sorry. So so Sorry….”

Present day

Namjoon tries to find an answer but he blinks and a tear rolls down his face. There’s utter silence int the auditorium. Namjoon scans his mind for any basic vocabulary but when he finds none, it’s just utter silence. “About-” He begins but suddenly looses himself again. Stress takes over him and Jungkook puts his arm to console him. “We have no comment about this situation and we greatly appreciate if you could not ask about it unless we bring it up. Thankyou.” Another tear spills on Namjoons face. He felt terrible. He felt like this was all his fault and kicked himself mentally at the thought of being a baby and crying about it. Being the leader is tough. Especially now. The Q&A finishes but instead of getting up to leave, Namjoon sits in the empty auditorium thinking about the past. About all the times you had had with him. Most importantly about the time he told you he loved you. How on that day if he had listened to you. None of this would have happened. The rest of BTS enter and sit with him. Namjoon was never one to cry but tears could not be kept from spiling onto his face. “I’m not crying. My eyes are leaking. I just have very heavy prescription. You know that.” But that was the thing. He wasn’t wearing any glasses.

0 notes

rambles-n-tumbles · 7 years

Text

Tying Loose Ends

Fandom: BTS

Pairings: OT7

Genre: Adventure, Heist AU

Word Count: 3,469

Summary: The Heist AU no one asked for but I sure needed. Seokjin, Jimin, and Yoongi go in. Jungkook and Namjoon make sure they get out. Taehyung and Hoseok make sure no one remembers their names.

"Now I know he was being a dick, but did you really have to sedate him, Yoongi?"

Seokjin didn't hear a response, which meant the man in question was most likely rolling his eyes behind his back. Typical. He felt a remark coming up his throat but bit it back, instead focusing on the unconscious man currently dangling from an office chair. He supposed this would make transit easier, but that wasn't always a good thing, either. Sighing, he glanced at the third conscious man in the room, silently hoping to hear a vocal response from someone in the next five minutes.

"Jimin, have you heard from Joon?" Pink hair swung as Jimin turned away from a computer, hand pressed against his ear as his eyes locked on Seokjin's for a second.

"No, but JK says he's already moving into position, so he should be making a scene in a second." Relieved, Seokjin shrugged the man from his chair into a box Yoongi tugged upstairs. Stolen from the UPS guy, Seokjin smirked. He wouldn't miss it too much.

"Five minutes."

Yoongi rearranged his gloves, wiping down the chair the unconscious man previously occupied, making sure not to leave anything uncleaned. He was scarily accurate with these things, and Seokjin had to admire it in the smaller man. If anything, he knew it was safer having him on their side rather than hoping the 'Sugar of the Streets' wouldn't lace his drinks tonight. But then Yoongi groaned at fingernail clippings on the ground and suddenly Seokjin felt the affection cease.

"Jeez, would it kill him to toss his trash where it belongs? What is it with old business men and being corrupt and gross." Jimin bit back a laugh as Seokjin placed the box where it belonged on the roller, waiting for its delivery man to take him home. And return home you shall, Mister Yang.

"I'm in, JK, download them now." Jimin rolled his eyes at the sassy response he undoubtedly received from the other end of the ear piece, instead of responding chooses to tug it out and let the cable hang off his shirt collar as he faced Seokjin. "Why does he hate me so much, gosh."

"He doesn't hate you, he's doing his job." Seokjin patted the younger man on his pink head, watching the files slowly disappear from the computer screen. Their youngest was sassy and had a terrible habit of bragging, but at least he could back it up with proof.

"HYUNG!" A voice chirped from the forgotten ear piece as Jimin jumped before pressing it back in place, affirming his presence when a knocking came from the office door. They immediately stopped moving as Yoongi, being the closest, grunted in the direction of the knocking.

"Yes?" Grimacing at the roughness of his voice, they all held their breath as the voice behind the door called back.

"I heard you needed a package sent, love?" Sighing in relief, Yoongi swung the door open to reveal a grinning man in rose tinted hair and a smile too bright for a man in a baggy brown delivery outfit.

"Hoseok you nearly made me shit my pants what the fuck." Hoseok laughed, waltzing in the room as he gripped the roller handles and balanced the package easily.

"Would you have preferred me to just walk in without knocking?" Jimin slammed the laptop shut, mumbling at the echoing voice in his ear as Seokjin just shook his head.

"We might've shot you if you had." Hoseok nodded, a grim expression falling on his features, Yoongi double checking the spot the package previously occupied for stains.

"Which is why I knocked, hyung." Winking, Hoseok tugged the package out of the room with ease, Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Locking eyes with Seokjin, wordlessly they began retracing steps from the room, wiping down surfaces and packing their things. Pleased with the environment, they began packing their things away, Yoongi checking his watch.

"2 minutes 'til reactivation. Let's move." Yoongi moved to open the door, but at the sight of bodyguards approaching swung it shut again. "Alright, not through there."

"What?" Seokjin reattached his backpack -a small thing really, just the essentials- as Yoongi paled, sliding a finger across his neck before he turned to Jimin.

"JK, we have company. Gimme an out."

Finding a UPS man was simple any day of the week, but of course on the day that Hoseok wanted to take one's outfit the town decided to cease online purchasing. He scrolled through security cameras for this neighborhood four times and still, nothing but a FedEx truck, and lord knew Hoseok wasn't wearing navy in this weather. The sun was too hot and humidity too high for him to tolerate it for a second. Sighing, he resolved to check the main road once more before agreeing to maybe pay a visit to a costume store. Surely they wouldn't notice the difference, right?

"Hobi?" Turning, his resolve turned to glee as he was face to face with the dirty brown uniform of-

"Taehyungie, where did you find this?!" Bouncing from his chair, Hoseok gripped the grinning man by the shoulders.

"I ordered a teapot last week and made sure they would deliver by last night. Y'know, backup." Hoseok inspected the uniform, noting the size wouldn't be perfect -he was a bit thinner but it would still fit- when he realized it wasn't last night anymore and-

"Taehyungie, where is the delivery man this belongs to?" Tae's smile faltered slightly as he shifted his weight to his right foot. Lies incoming.

"Fine, I think." Shoulders falling, Hoseok was reminded that there was a reason the two of them were inside men and not workers. There was a reason they kept their hands clean, and only one of them was because of their terrible lying skills.

"Tae." The younger threw his arms up before Hoseok could say anymore and began rattling off without really saying anything. Before he could panic, Hoseok grabbed his cheeks and made him take a breath. Once his breathing was regulated, Hoseok tried again. "Now, where is the man?"

"Asleep in my bed," Hoseok smirked at the younger man, patting his shoulder approvingly.

"Nicely done, sex and an outfit. I'm proud of you, Tae."

"Oh no, I didn't do him. I knocked him out. There might be blood on the collar."

"Fuck."

"Now, there should be a staircase to your left. Make sure to go up both flights, any less and you're in a storage closet." Jungkook tried to ignore the grunting behind him as he read through the blueprints once more, memorizing the layout as Jimin repeated surroundings to his ear. He knew Namjoon was trying to hot wire a car behind him, but he hoped his hyung would've remembered what wires he needed to connect before he-

"SONOFA-" Jungkook momentarily muted his headpiece, letting his elder stick his electrocuted finger in his mouth like a toddler. Shaking his head, he let his hands type out a series of numbers before reactivating the headpiece and letting Jimin lead the team down a corridor. "Alarm systems off, you have fifteen minutes. One piece, still responsive and once you've got the computer let me know. I'll break in and get what I need before hyung hurts himself again."

"Again? Is he still hot wiring the car?" Jimin scoffed on the other side of the headpiece, Jungkook grunting in agreement before spinning his chair to lock eyes with the glaring man beside the car.

"I hurt myself because the stupid car doesn't want to run." Jungkook raised an eyebrow, watching a man with lavender hair kick the side of a white minivan, and it took a lot in Jungkook to not burst into laughter at the mere sight of it all. Rising from his chair, he nodded at his elder, Namjoon still glaring but now relocating his line of fire at the vehicle. Crawling into the front seat, he quickly spotted the problem.

"Hyung." Namjoon stopped his staring contest to hum in response to the younger.

"Yes?" Jungkook tried to keep a straight face as he locked eyes with his elder, his superior. The man who taught him how to be who he is, the man who engraved pride and respect and decency into his very core.

The man who didn't strip the wires properly and attached them incorrectly.

"Simple mistake. It should-" The motor roared to life, "-work now."

"Ah. Thanks, Jungkook." Nodding, Jungkook let his head drop as he made his way back to his seat at the computer. Before returning to address the locked systems Jimin sent to his screen, he turned to glance at his hyung.

"You, uh, gonna be okay out there, hyung?" Namjoon climbed into the front seat, glasses sliding over determined eyes.

"Absolutely, JK. You just stay put and back up from here. Be right back."

"Yeah," Jungkook watched him pull out of the small garage, turning when he heard Jimin's voice call for him. "He just left."

"Now, the benefit of having a UPS guy knocked out on your bed is that he leaves the keys, too." Taehyung swung the key ring as Hoseok dressed in the makeshift changing area they had in their small warehouse.

"Oh absolutely," Hoseok remarked, fighting the buttons on his shirt as he questioned just how the confused man would react to awakening in a hotel room halfway across town with no uniform and no truck. He didn't know how long it would take the service to look for their truck, but he figured Tae would. "How long until they realize he's missing, TaeTae?"

"The company will only realize after people call and wonder where their packages are. Then they'll realize the truck's gone, look up the employee and realize he hasn't reported back either. Most common occurrence is: employee finds a nice package in his truck, steals it, and runs away with the truck. Happens more often than you'd expect." Hoseok didn't want to be impressed, but it was really hard when Tae was a walking ball of usually useless knowledge that came in handy in the best of times. He didn't want to ask, but he had to.

"And if the guy wakes up before that?" Tae looked up to see that, yes the uniform was a bit snug on his hips but otherwise a loose and recklessly handsome look was graceful on Hoseok. He grinned, trying not to be too proud.

"I had some leftovers from the last time Yoongi-hyung had a meeting. He won't wake up for a while. Now, the truck." Swinging the keys, he let Hoseok pat his head before snatching the keys.

"Alright, let's tell Joon we're ready."

"Right behind you, hyung."

"How's that exit coming, JK?" Jimin pried open the window, grateful that they were only on the second floor. He didn't want to think of what his younger brother would have him do if they were any higher. Seokjin had tugged some chairs, jamming the door and buying them "approximately three minutes more" according to Yoongi. He was never wrong, but they didn't want to have to push their luck any more than they already were.

"On it. Joon-hyung is headed towards you but you're gonna have to relocate real quick." Jimin slid down the piping, feeling his hands bruise but kept moving as Yoongi swung past him, scouting past the corner to make sure they weren't surrounded. Seokjin looked at Jimin for directions, hoping JK was still in his ear, feeding him plans and back up and keeping him level.

"The alley on your right, head down it and you'll find a residents lobby. Duck inside, there's a storage room. I'm sending the location to hyung, he'll meet you there."

"Gotcha. Let's move." Yoongi and Seokjin followed wordlessly as they heard the resonating sound of the door in the office break down, adrenaline shoving them to move quicker, take bigger steps, make it to safety. And soon.

The sounds of people rushing in and out of the hotel was innervating, because they knew what happened when people rushed. People rushing meant cover was easily lost or gained. It was the turning tide they needed to make use of, so when Seokjin shoved past and slid beside a woman looking happily surprised, Jimin didn't blink. When Yoongi let himself become a wallflower and slid into an open door behind the resident's hall, Jimin wasn't phased at all.

He knew what they had to do to stay alive, even as he watched Seokjin slip his earpiece as he adjusted the woman's hair out of her face. Even as he heard Yoongi grunt at JK in his ear, a call for instruction.

"Storage room, turn right. Stay on the main floor, head past the two doors on your right before turning, there will be a garage in sight. Hyung is almost there. Stay put, stay hidden." Nothing unnecessary, Jimin shared a smirk of pride with the mirror reflection of Yoongi ten steps behind him. Trained the brat well after all.

"Nochu coming through after all." Seokjin fell into step fifteen paces ahead of Jimin, moving steadily as he stopped to ask someone for directions, allowing Jimin to move past him into the hall. Yoongi steadied behind Jimin, shoving past Seokjin roughly before picking up the pace, allowing the chase.

Acting like assholes, that's how you hide. Jimin recalled Namjoon telling it to Jungkook once. People hate assholes and try to avoid them at all costs. You get lost and they grunt and groan but don't remember what the hell you look like, just that you did something to them. It's elementary.

And it's exactly how they all found themselves sliding into the back of Namjoon's white minivan, dimpled man grinning at them from the front seat.

"So, how'd it go?" Yoongi, on the other hand, was doing anything but smiling.

"How about you drive before the fuckers catch up to us, huh?" Groaning, Namjoon threw the car into drive before muttering about the elders having all the fun. Jimin didn't feel like reminding him he was younger than Namjoon. It was better this way, he thought, smiling to himself in the rearview.

"Hyung, did you get out?" JK chirped through the earpiece, Yoongi flicking it out as Jimin giggled.

"Yeah, we're out. Headed your way, JK." Jimin smiled as Seokjin glanced at the guards outside, running around searching for the men who vanished. "We'll be home soon."

"How are you holding up, Hobi-hyung?" Tae clicked away on a laptop somewhere in the corner of the garage, headset on and alert as JK typed into his own computer a few feet away. Together but apart, Tae thought. It was the best way to work.

"Good, Taehyungie. Just gotta go drop something off and we'll be good." Hoseok smirked as he saw the open garage gate, a familiar black head of hair swinging something at him. Pulling up as best as he could -Hoseok said he could seduce mobsters, not parallel park- beside the man, he let himself go through the back and tugged out a box much larger than it was heavy. Nevertheless, he played the part and grunted as he let himself be led inside the building.

"Package for a Mister Yang?" He fluttered his lashes the way guards liked, and sure enough, he was on his way up the elevator to the second floor. What a shame, he thought, smiling to himself, that the guards didn't notice those three hopping in beside him in the elevator.

Reaching the front door, Hoseok gave his best knock and "delivery?" reenactment before stepping aside and letting Seokjin shove past the man into the office. Hoseok let himself sit by the side, becoming friendly instead with a cat that apparently lived on the floor. It wasn't long before he muttered into his earpiece. "Tae?"

"Yeah, hyung?" Hoseok heard faint grunts and a very upset Seokjin from behind the office door before sighing into the earpiece.

"I'm really glad we don't do grunt work."

"Yes, hyung. So am I."

It wasn't until Tae announced time was up that Hoseok pulled away from the cat -calico, his favorite- and made his way to the door, knocking as proudly as he imagined a delivery man would. When the speaking ceased, he realized they probably forgot he was outside waiting. Ugh, hyungs.

After recovering the package, he let himself whistle as he approached the elevator, refusing to speak until the doors shut behind him.

"Headed down, Tae. Keep me in sight?" A chuckle erupted from the line, assuring him his prayer didn't fall on deaf ears.

"Always got your back, hyung. Watching the monitors now."

When the elevator doors opened, the guard raised an eyebrow at Hoseok returning with a package he was supposed to deliver. Hoseok, however, was used to playing the dumb blonde, even when his hair was rose tinted.

"Wrong Mister Yang~ What a shame, he seemed to really want a package today, too." Winking at the guard, he made his way through the front doors before anyone could question it. Once he was loaded up, Hoseok sped down the road the way he knew delivery cars weren't supposed to, but he had to get the body to Namjoon so Tae could get the car back to the guy.

"Tae, we're headed your way. Prepare for drop-off." Tae dropped the pencil he was trying to balance, bored the moment he spotted Hoseok speed through the lobby without a second glance. He knew the man wanted out, but why was he moving so fast?

"Drop-off?" Tae raised his eyebrow as Hoseok sighed from the other side of the line.

"Yes, Tae. You have to get this back to that man."

"Ah, right. Okay, hyung." Tae tried not to laugh at the worry wart his hyung was becoming. It's gotta be the age.

When Namjoon pulled into the garage, Hoseok was plopped beside Jungkook at his desk rummaging through files and drinking sodas. Namjoon might've found it endearing if it wasn't for the fact that they had a man a couple minutes ago and now there was no sight of him. Yoongi and Seokjin unpacked the truck as Jimin voiced the concerns running through Namjoon's head.

"Where's Yang?" Jungkook spared them half a glance before pointing towards the basement door. Ah, they prepped him. Well, they couldn't blame Jungkook for being careless at least.

"He's supposed to be alive but seems like someone forgot to put holes in the box." Jungkook pointed a glare at Hoseok, who looked like he wanted to be innocent, he really did, but after searching the files he was left with little to no pity for the man dead in their basement. So, instead, Hoseok did the next best thing: shrugged.

"He was a dick, I don't see why we had to keep him alive." Yoongi made his way directly to the basement stairs, figuring he would try to see what he could salvage of the man, with Seokjin placing his gear near Jungkook before following him. Namjoon figured it would be best to leave it to them as he moved a chair to sit beside Jungkook and the monitors. Jimin threw an arm around Hoseok's neck, play strangling him before realizing there was something missing.

"Where's Taehyungie?" Hoseok shook his head, grumbling about hotels and UPS trucks before showing him the laptop screen.

"Busy, but take a look at this. We managed to salvage the information from the deal that went down in the Jakra Providence last week. We have names, addresses, numbers," Hoseok scrolled the page, Jimin mentally ticking names off a list he had memorized long ago. Names he knew he had debts that needed paying. Debts Jimin was willing to collect, any day of the week.

"It's enough to bring them down completely, Hyung." Jungkook passed his laptop to Namjoon, pointing to certain information every once in a while as the elder scrolled from page to page, the data pilling in like sand. Filling all the blanks they needed.

"Now the only thing we need is for that man to still be breathing and we'll be set." Namjoon let his gaze fall on Hoseok, who merely shrugged as they heard the garage door click open. Turning they spotted Tae walking in, smile etched on his face until he locked eyes with-

"Hyung stop looking at me like that, he's fine!" Hoseok nearly bounded out of his seat, Jimin holding him down for fear of the computer still resting on his lap.

"He better be fine, Taehyung, or who knows what else we'll have to clean up!" Just then the basement door opened, Seokjin standing with heavy breath.

"Actually, we have enough cleaning downstairs to keep us busy for a while. He's awake."

#bts #bangtan boys #bts fanfiction #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #ot7

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avanneman · 5 years

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A Social Call Part 2

(This is the second and concluding part of a new adventure of Rex Stout’s famous creation, Nero Wolfe. Go here to read Part 1.)

When Fritz arrived Wolfe opened the bottle with the gold-plated opener and poured the beer until there was a quarter-inch of foam at the top of the glass. He drank from the glass and licked the foam from his upper lip. Then he looked at me.

‘We shall address this woman as Miss Hopkins,” he said, glaring hard enough so that I knew he meant it.

“Of course.”

Then he picked up, not the dossier that Joan had given me but the translation of Montaigne that Zauberberg had brought. He read through it, making notes as he went, but not a lot, which surprised me. Since he wasn’t bothering to prepare for Sexy, I thought I should, so I took the dossier from his desk and started looking through it. FacetoFace had hired some outfit in San Francisco that I knew of only by reputation to run a background check on Miss Caboose, and for a porn star she was pretty sedate—only two busts for possession and a D and D she picked up two years ago when she got in a shouting match with some guy in the lobby of the St. Francis in San Francisco at three in the morning, which at least showed some class. Anyway, how do you blackmail a porn star? She had been working in Vegas in some sort of porn star review for the past year. A month ago she took a leave of absence, which is exactly when she started pestering Zauberberg, so it was obvious the two were connected.

There was also a thumb drive in the folder so I loaded it into the computer and had a look. There were dozens of photographs from the little boat trip, with Zauberberg looking like he was about twelve. As for “Miss Hopkins”, well, she was definitely a porn star, but, very fortunately for Zauberberg, she managed to keep her top on the whole time, at least when people were taking pictures. There were five men and five women on the boat, and Zauberberg’s people had identified them all, and run a background check on all of them as well, and even interviews. None of them seemed very happy about reliving that little party, but with Zauberberg leaning on them, they’d all talked.

Once Sexy had started putting the bite on Zauberberg, his people had hired Bill Henderson’s outfit to keep an eye on her in New York. Henderson has fifty people working for him, so it wasn’t likely that they’d lose track of her. Sexy was holed up in a small, expensive hotel on the Upper East Side and walked her poodle in Central Park when the weather was nice. She hadn’t met anyone or gone anywhere since she arrived from Vegas.

At quarter after eleven Wolfe looked up from his manuscript.

“What have you learned?” he asked.

“Zauberberg’s story seems pretty straight, unless they’re hiding something from us.”

“If they are they deserve their fate. Tell me what struck you as in the least bit piquant.”

I gave him all the piquancies I had on hand until the doorbell rang, at five to twelve.

“I guess she couldn’t wait,” I said to Wolfe.

He grunted in reply and picked up his manuscript for one last look at Montaigne while I walked down the hallway to open the door.

I checked Sexy out through the peephole, just to be sure she didn’t have any company, but she was clean.

“I can call you Archie, can’t I?” she asked as she stepped inside.

“Not around my boss, Miss Hopkins,” I said.

She laughed.

“I haven’t heard that in a while.”

I wouldn’t say that Sexy was subdued, but, again, for a porn star I wouldn’t call her flashy. Wolfe wasn’t going to like the look of her hair, which was ash-blonde and swept well over her eyes, but her skirt wasn’t—well, it wasn’t the shortest skirt I’d seen in that hallway—and she was wearing a mink jacket that was almost respectable. Glamourous, yes, but she didn’t look like she was selling it. On the other hand, if she’d unbuttoned the one button on that jacket she’d be giving it away, because she had a lot to hide upstairs, and the little black outfit she was wearing wasn’t even trying. I was tempted to tell her to keep that jacket buttoned if she wanted Wolfe to like her, but I didn’t want to be giving her ideas in case she didn’t want Wolfe to like her, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Well, Nero Wolfe!” she laughed as we came in the office. “I guess you’re not too happy to see me.”

“Whether I am or not is irrelevant,” said Wolfe. “I have a job to do and to do it I must suffer your presence.”

“Suffer my presence. Well, well. Such a pretty room! I’d like to live here!”

She took the big red chair. Wolfe hadn’t brought up the subject of refreshments, so I wasn’t sure what to say, but he saved me the trouble.

“The hour is late, Miss Hopkins, by my standards if not yours. However, if you desire or require alcohol my assistant Mr. Goodwin will be glad to oblige.”

She laughed again, a good way to get on Wolfe’s nerves.

“Well, yes, I will have a little something—white wine. Just a small glass. Nothing sweet.”

I joined her, to be polite. Wolfe had finished his beer long before and wasn’t in the mood for anything more.

“Now, Miss Hopkins,” Wolfe began, after I’d poured the wine, “what precisely is your purpose, and indeed your price, in this matter?”

“I don’t believe I have a price, Mr. Wolfe,” she replied. “I think I need a career change, I guess that’s my purpose. I think I’d make a good talk show host, Mr. Wolfe. I like to talk, and I like to hear other people talk. It would be a lot of fun to be on one of those shows, you know, like Conan O’Brien. They don’t let women do those shows, have you noticed that? And they should! They definitely should!”

“No doubt. Miss Hopkins, when did you make the acquaintance of Dimitry Voroshilov?”

“Dear Dimitry! He was so sweet! Well, he was on the boat, of course.”

“He was not,” snapped Wolfe. “There is no evidence to connect him with that boat, and much to deny his presence. To tell palpable lies in this matter is dangerous, no matter how many secrets you believe you possess. I assume to you intend to charge Mr. Zauberberg with more than just sexual intercourse, which is indeed your stock in trade.”

I could tell Sexy had been snapped at before, probably by one of Zauberberg’s lawyers, because it didn’t slow her down much, though it did make her more cautious.

“Well, maybe he was, and maybe he wasn’t. Anyway, it was a long time ago.”

“Indeed. When did you make Mr. Voroshilov’s acquaintance?”

“Well, a long time ago.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Sexy, or, as I guess I should call her, Mary, seemed to be feeling Wolfe out. The direct lie hadn’t gotten her anywhere. She bit her lip and paused.

“Some Russian mafia guys,” she said suddenly. “You know, I was at a party.”

“With members of the Russian mafia? Did they identify themselves as such?”

“No. They had, you know, Russian accents. Like on TV. And this guy, he came up to me and said, ‘I know you! I know you!’”

She laughed.

“They talk like little kids, like they get really excited. ‘You big porno star! You big porno star!’ I had just made my big picture, Back Door Brides. I was the only girl in the picture, you know, and it was the top-grossing porno of the year. I won best actress. So, you know, that was like in 2007 or 2008. 2008, probably. I guess that’s right.”

She counted on her fingers to come up with the date. Wolfe just grunted, as though getting into a conversation about a film titled Back Door Brides didn’t appeal to him.

Sexy drank from her wine, and swirled it a little in her glass, as if thinking about the good old days.

“Anyway,” she said, “Dimitry really took a liking to me. He didn’t give me his name back then. He called himself Mr. Smith.”

She laughed again.

“I meet a lot of guys named Smith. Also Jones. I met this guy Mr. Jones once who took me on a nice boat.”

“Another Russian mobster?”

“Well, you don’t have to say mobster. He was pretty shy, really. Dimitry told me to be nice to him. Shy guys, you know, they’re the easiest! And sweet! I only saw him once, though. He had a nice boat. Big! But Dimitry was really connected. The way he talked, the way other people treated him, you could tell. And he was rich. I mean, super rich. He used to fly me to his yacht in a helicopter! And a nice helicopter—leather seats, soundproofing, everything. You didn’t have to wear a helmet. I hate that! You can imagine.”

She stroked her hair.

“A lot of men say I have the best hair in the biz. What do you think? Archie, I’ll bet you’re an expert.”

I could tell Wolfe wasn’t liking the way the conversation was going, so I tried to keep it complimentary but brief.

“Your hair is terrific.”

She beamed. Sexy was a pro, in more ways than one, but she took a compliment like a teenager.

“I bet you’ve never ridden on a helicopter at all, have you, Mr. Wolfe?”

“Indeed not. What was his yacht like? I mean Mr. Voroshilov’s.”

“Incredible. Incredible. Some guys, they say it’s their yacht, but you know it isn’t. This was Dimitry’s, the way that crew treated him. He’d say it, and they’d do it. Bang!”

“And when did you first tell him that you knew Mr. Zauberberg?”

“Well, that’s a good question,” said Sexy, stretching it out. “I guess, well, we were in bed and the TV was on, and there was this big shot of Mark’s head and I said ‘Hey, I used to fuck that guy.’ I guess it’s okay to say ‘fuck’, isn’t it?”

“It’s acceptable in reported conversations, but not as expletive or a verb. Or an adjective,” said Wolfe, crisply. He has pretty clear rules about what you can say in his presence, and in his office.

“Did Mr. Voroshilov express an interest in this statement?” he asked.

“Yeah. He said ‘you did!’ and I’m like ‘Fuck yeah, I did!’ That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“It’s acceptable. How did your conversation continue?”

“Well, I told him about the boat. See, I didn’t know who Mark was back then. He was just some guy I had fucked.”

She laughed.

“Sorry. Guess I screwed up. See, I can be good. Anyway, well, after that was the first time he took me to his yacht.”

“Do you recall what film you had completed around this time?”

“Well, Inglorious Butt-Fuckers. It was just two years after Back Door Brides, but wow. I didn’t even have my own dressing room. Things change so fast. That’s why I was so glad to have Dimitry. These guys will tell you how generous they are, but Dimitry was generous. I mean, the best of everything, caviar for breakfast. Good caviar too! The best! And then he disappeared too. Goodbye Mr. Smith, right? I thought I’d never hear from him again, until about six months ago. No helicopter this time, but one of those fancy little hotels. That’s when he told me his real name. He was so sweet. He said he wanted to hear me call him Dimitry.”

She laughed.

“And have you seen him since?”

“Well, no, because of all this publicity. I just talked to him on the phone. He told me how he was a wanted man in the U.S. now, because Mark was so afraid that everything would come out.”

“What was there to come out? You can offer no testimony that the two men were ever together. You surely do not intend to testify that they were. You are, I may say, Miss Hopkins, an engaging personality, but you lack the self possession of an effective liar. Your weapon is your innocence. You cannot keep a secret.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I like to talk, which is why I would be good on a talk show. And now I will be, because I will be famous. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“It doesn’t occur to you that you might be in danger?”

That got a real laugh out of her.

“Danger! Nice try, Mr. Wolfe. Dimitry would never let anything happen to me. Is Mr. Zauberberg going to have me killed? How would that look?”

“I was not suggesting that Mr. Zauberberg would resort to violence, but the Russians are not so squeamish. Describe Mr. Voroshilov to me.”

“Bald. Really bald. He told me Putin doesn’t like guys with hair.” She laughed. “He says stuff like that. He’s cute. Kinda short, but, you know, not where it counts.”

She laughed again.

“You said there were pictures from your encounter with Mr. Zauberberg. You have these pictures?”

“Yes. I like to keep things. People at parties can get kind of confused. There were no drugs, you know. Mark was really a boy scout like that. They all were. Men can be so funny, you know.”

“I agree with you entirely. My sex has always struck me as surpassingly ludicrous, far more so than yours. But these photographs, no doubt in digital format, you passed copies on to Mr. Voroshilov?”

“Well, I’m afraid I did, Mr. Wolfe. They were mine anyway, and I wasn’t even naked, so there. Anyway, that’s how I got this jacket. Do you like it?”

“I admire it exceedingly. Mr. Voroshilov possesses a fine eye. Do you possess photographs of yourself with him?”

“You are nosy, aren’t you? No, I don’t, but Dimitry has them. He does.”

She added that last part for emphasis.

“No doubt,” said Wolfe. “Miss Hopkins, you will no doubt reject my conclusions as to this matter, but nonetheless I offer them to you in good faith. You are in danger. Mr. Voroshilov has no interest in furthering your career. I suggest that there is a real possibility that he could have you killed, as a way of creating a scandal that would both blacken Mr. Zauberberg’s name and this colossus he has created, further damaging as well the state of political discourse in this country.”

Sexy just laughed at this one.

“Now, Mr. Wolfe, I’m afraid you’ve been watching too much TV. Anyway, I bet Mark just paid you to say that. I bet he did.”

“Very well. I will not waste my time, and yours, on this matter. The hour was late when you arrived, and now the morning approaches. Mr. Goodwin will show you the way out.”

As I rose, Sexy took my arm, as I knew she would, to get a rise out of Wolfe. It was the first time I’d touched a porn star, and I hope it’ll be the last, but it was also rather fun.

“You’re cute, Archie,” she said, as I walked her down the hall. “When I’m rich, you can come work for me. I can fix you up with a lot of girls.”

“I’m already fixed up.”

“You’ll see, Archie. You’ll see.”

There was a car and driver waiting for her, so Dimitry was really taking care of her. Around the corner I could see a sedan that didn’t belong there, so it looked like Henderson’s people had it covered.

“Henderson had a car out,” I told Wolfe when I came back to the office.

“Excellent. Call them and tell them to double their watch. Mr. Zauberberg will bear the expense. And then provide me with a chronology of Miss Hopkins’ films.”

I called Henderson’s office, which was naturally closed, so I had to get the emergency number and ended up waking Bill himself. While all this was going on I did a search for Sexy’s career and printed it out and handed to Wolfe. When I got everything straight with Henderson, convincing him that Wolfe was on the level, I ended the call and turned around to ask Wolfe why he was so sure Dimitry was out for blood, but the lips were already moving in and out, in and out. I just sat there for a good ten minutes. When he was done Wolfe closed his eyes and then opened them again.

“It’s late, Archie,” he said. “You should go to bed.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

Why he was so sure he had this one, and why he had to cut me out of it completely, well, that was just Wolfe being Wolfe. I left the office and closed the door and went half way up the stairs and then came back down and crept down the hallway. I wasn’t listening at the door. I was just standing near it.

For about five minutes I got nothing for my pains, and then I heard Wolfe talking on the phone, not in English. When Wolfe dials a number on his own, it’s something. It’s my guess that he didn’t want me to know that number. There was a long silence, and then I heard him speaking again, this time in what was probably another language, and probably Russian. That went on for almost twenty minutes, Wolfe being pretty harsh sometimes, but also sometimes listening. Then I heard his chair creak, and I headed up the stairs. When he leaves the office he almost always fusses over something before turning off the lights, and by the time I heard his elevator I was already in my room.

I like to get my eight hours, but since it was already past two in the morning, I set the alarm for nine. I came down to the kitchen around nine-thirty, still a little sore from whatever game Wolfe was playing. Fritz greeted me with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. Drinking it made me realize that I could forget about Wolfe’s little game, whatever it was, for an hour or so and just eat the best breakfast in New York.

Fritz waited until I finished my juice before asking questions.

“Why are you so late, Archie?”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t know the end of it,” I told him. “We have a case, so that Mr. Wolfe can translate Montaigne into Persian.”

“Really? Would you like your omelet with speck or prosciutto?”

“Speck.”

Speck is a smoked prosciutto ham, which Fritz gets from a little town in the Italian Alps that he used to visit when he was a boy. It’s drier than fresh prosciutto but with more flavor. Fritz makes his omelets with speck and fresh-grated parmesan, and cooks them golden brown on the outside, and creamy and melting on the inside, accompanied by home fries and roasted tomatoes with bread crumbs, seasoned with fresh garlic, tarragon and chives. “A man who treats good food with less than the respect it deserves is less than a man,” Wolfe once told me when he thought I was eating too fast, and Fritz’s omelets deserve all the respect I can give them.

When I was finished, I took my coffee out into the office and switched on my computer. The Gazette’s home page popped up on the big 30-inch monitor I use. There was a lot of talk about Zauberberg’s impending testimony, but nothing hot. I had a half a mind to call Lon Cohen to ask him if he’d heard anything, but Russia wasn’t exactly Lon’s beat, and if I gave Lon any hint at all that Wolfe was working for Zauberberg I didn’t think I could quite trust him to keep it to himself.

I was about to head out to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee when I heard Wolfe’s elevator. It was almost eleven-thirty, so he’d been sleeping in too.

“Good morning, Archie,” he said, as he always does. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fine,” I said, wanting to ride him about last night, but not wanting to let him know that I’d been listening to his phone conversations. “Any orders?”

“No,” he said, removing the spray of Anacamptis lacteal from the day before and replacing it with a single Cypripedium reginae.

I waited to speak until he got himself settled in the one chair in the world that fits him and rang for beer. He knew I wanted answers and for once wasn’t going to be coy.

“Yes, Archie?”

I was about to say something—exactly what I’ve forgotten—when the “Breaking News” legend broke across the screen. “Top Russian Security Chiefs Killed in Accident”. Two pictures appeared, labeled Dimitry Voroshilov and Yury Sobchak. I stared for a moment as the crawl identified them as the chief and deputy chief of the Russian Federal Security Service, the successor to Putin’s old outfit, the KGB. I stared for a moment and then swung the monitor around so that he could see it.

“Do you know anything about this?” I demanded.

For once I saw him surprised.

“Good lord,” he said. “I thought to start a hare and instead dislodged an avalanche. This is extraordinary. Extraordinary.”

I was staring at the screen and noticed something.

“They’ve got the pictures wrong,” I said. “Dimitry’s the bald one.”

“No,” he said, “it was poor Miss Hopkins who was diddled. She was a pawn and is fortunate indeed that the fate Mr. Sobchak intended for her has been visited on him.”

“What? Sobchak was setting up his boss?”

“Precisely. During that SEC investigation that proved so profitable it was surmised but never publicly discussed that people linked with Sobchak were behind the mysterious bid for control of FacetoFace that Mr. Zauberberg alluded to, and that Voroshilov was the moving force behind its cancellation, though clearly Mr. Zauberberg had not himself learned of the matter. Mr. Putin has a history with both Voroshilov and Sobchak and seems to have placed them together as sort of a balancing act, favoring first the one and then the other. Mr. Sobchak apparently felt the humiliation dealt him by his superior keenly and contrived this extravagant stunt.”

Fritz arrived with Wolfe’s beer. I waited as he poured the glass and drank.

“Voroshilov was the hapless Mr. Jones. I have no doubt that Mr. Sobchak arranged for their tryst to be photographed. His original plan, I believe, was to lure Mr. Zauberberg into a meeting with Mlss Hopkins, after which she would die under mysterious circumstances. The photographs would surface. Mr. Zauberberg would be implicated, his creation defiled, and our entire political process brought into question.”

“Yeah, but suppose Zauberberg didn’t bite? Suppose he played it the way he played it.”

“Then Miss Hopkins would have been unleashed on the world. You can imagine what a stir she could generate. Both Zauberberg and Voroshilov would be exposed as fools and possible confederates. I suppose Sobchak imagined that his superior would be eased into retirement while he assumed command. I presume Mr. Zauberberg will be pleased with this outcome.”

“Which you didn’t expect.”

Wolfe raised his shoulders slightly and then lowered them.

“No, Archie, I did not. I informed certain people of Mr. Sobchak’s duplicity, with the intention of alerting Mr. Voroshilov to his subordinate’s intentions. I certainly did not intend for this information to reach Mr. Putin, but he obviously has resources that surpassed my expectations. Apparently, the machinations of both Voroshilov and Sobchak had exhausted his patience, and he resolved to make a clean sweep of the matter. Returning to Miss Hopkins, I believe these developments will make her more amenable to a private resolution of this affair. Most important of all, I am now free to concentrate on Montaigne.”

The look on his face when he had first seen the news about Dimitry and Yury was almost enough to convince me that he was on the level, that he hadn’t somehow planned the whole thing from the beginning, but I couldn’t let it go.

“So you had no idea it would go down like this?”

“Of course not, Archie. As Montaigne would have it ‘Que sçais-je?’ What do I know?”

#Nero Wolfe #Rex Stout

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senatorrorgana · 7 years

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Summary: Scarif left Cassian physically a mess, he shouldn't have even survived according to some doctors, but yet he did, and due to his injuries, he was taken off of field duty. Now, pushing papers on Echo Base with his wounds finally healing fully, Jyn tries to encourage him to try some physical therapy, to see if it'll help with his pain at least. However, fate seems to change those plans when Jyn comes back injured from a scouting trip, having her leg crushed by a Tauntaun. Now, the both of them physically restricted, they decide to handle their recoveries together, and spending so much time alone leads them to finally explore the feelings they've had for one another since they first met.

A/N: This came from a prompt I got from my birthday, I've been slowly going through the list and while most have been one shots, this one just struck me as something I could really elaborate on. So thank you to whoever the lovely anon was that sent me this prompt, there will be fluff eventually in it, but for now, enjoy this heaping piles of angst and hidden feelings from these two dorks!

Pairing: Rebelcaptain

Rating: M

Words: 2,767

AO3: (x)

MEDICAL REPORT ON CAPTAIN CASSIAN JERON ANDOR

After the incident on Scarif, Captain Andor was rushed to the medical bay by his fellow injured crewmates, his heartbeat barely able to be captured by the machines. A quick scan was taken of Captain Andor before proceeding with a bacta tank treatment, his injuries were as follows:

BLASTER BOLT TO THE LEFT SIDE OF THE RIBCAGE

TWO BROKEN RIBS (LEFT)

FOUR FRACTURED RIBS (THREE LEFT, ONE RIGHT)

PUNCTURED LUNG (LEFT)

POSSIBLE CONCUSSION

FRACTURE IN SPINAL CORD - CAN POSSIBLY RESULT IN HANDICAP

DISLOCATED SHOULDER (RIGHT)

MULTIPLE BRUISES AND CUTS

Post Captain Andor’s bacta treatment to heal the initial wounds, doctors were able to asses the severity of his injuries. Several surgeries were performed to rest Captain Andor’s bones into correct placement, and more bacta treatments were issued. After a week of observation in the medical bay, it was determined that Captain Andor is no longer fit for field duty, due to a handicap developed from his spinal injury, causing his left leg to no longer fully function, leaving Captain Andor unable to run and barely able to walk. It is recommended by Captain Andor’s supervising medical professionals that he is to be kept strictly to desk work/being kept on a rebel base. Field duty would result in Captain Andor’s death due to his inability to escape.

-Doctor Daemora Amon

Cassian never stayed still for very long; it started when he was just a child, always being on the move and fighting from such a young age, it only intensified as he grew older and joined the Rebellion, becoming one of the best spies for their cause. Being on the move was his entire life, and after Scarif, everyone told him it could no longer be part of his life, after only twenty-six years, now he couldn’t go out into the field. Now, he was trapped at the base, with all the other stuffy senators and bureaucrats that claimed to be “part of the cause” but really only sat behind desks day in and day out, sending the real soldiers out into the field to die for them. He hated every second of his new life, trapped on the new and freezing cold Echo Base on the ice planet of Hoth, left with nothing but files to go through and sign off on with his brand new title of Major. Everyone else was going out and making a difference, Cassian was sitting at the base, ordering operatives out into the field and signing off on shipments that arrived at the base.

The doctors stuffed him with every kind of sleeping pill and anti-depressants they could think of to keep him happy and help him sleep through his nightmares that never went away, they worked for a while, or at least they kept him in a haze long enough to just accept his fate. They still gave him the pills though Cassian refused to take them, instead he busied himself with trying to rebuild his ever faithful companion - Kaytoo - who was the only one from the Rogue One team who didn’t make it back in one piece. Jyn had found a droid that was Kay’s exact model not that long after she was cleared for field duty, after she decided to stay with the Rebellion and they gave her the title of Sergeant; Cassian had Kay’s memory backed up and kept hidden away, the droid always insisting on keeping it up to date, so the memory was last updated just before they landed on Scarif. It was just a matter of putting all the pieces together, making sure the parts that had burnt out the original droid could be replaced and repaired for Kay when he came back, he hoped he could finish him soon so he had someone to talk to again.

Today, he was out by the central control room, filtering through forms and papers on his data pad, a headache creeping up on him for staring at the damn thing for so long. There wasn’t much else for him to do around the base today, and from how unbearingly quiet it was, he was about ready to head back to his quarters and try to get some sleep, until the alarm for the bunker doors went off - indicating that someone was coming back from a mission and into the base. He didn’t have anything better to do, and he wasn’t quite sure anymore who was scheduled to come back when, so he hobbled his way out there, holding onto the rails when he could and trying to ignore the pitying glances from others that he always seemed to get. Cassian made it there as soon as the doors were closing up again, still more than enough snow making it’s way into the base in the short amount of time. While many things failed to make him smile anymore, the sight of his friends coming back from their mission was enough to make him crack a small grin.

Baze and Chirrut were the first off the ship, Chirrut still wearing his robes and seemingly unaffected by the cold weather of the base, more than likely still warm from their mission to Sullust while Baze still donned his heavy attire. Bodhi was next, already wrapped up in jackets to deal with the cold of the base, though seeming to be his usual cheerful self. Jyn was last, that familiar scowl on her face with her layers of clothing and jacket wrapped around her. She hated the cold almost as much as Cassian hated being stuck at the base, it was almost entertaining sometimes to see her deal with the new climate of the base, her having grown up on warmer planets almost all her life. It didn’t take long for her to notice him, her scowl softening and almost the hint of a smile on her lips now; Cassian wasn’t exactly sure what there was between them, but something changed after Scarif, and he was sure it was something for the better.

A few words to Bodhi later and she cut her way through the crowd, heading over to Cassian and stopping right in front of him, her green gaze up and locked onto his. Wordlessly, she reached for something from her back pocket and handed a data chip to him.

“Found it on a dead trooper, it seemed important, it lists some of their bases we don’t have on record.” Jyn explained, Cassian taking the chip and putting it into his pocket now.

“I’ll look over it later.” Cassian assured her. “Did everything else go smoothly?”

“Aside from the usual of being shot at, yeah, it was fine.” Jyn nodded. “How are you holding up?”

“Me?” Cassian asked confused. “I sit in this base all day, nothing really changes except for the medication they try to give me.” He grumbled.

“Alright, well, what about Kay? How far along is he?” Jyn asked trying to change the subject, sensing his hostility that he didn’t mean to unleash on her.

“He just needs a new processor and he’ll be running again.” Cassian said calmly, trying to keep himself together, Jyn wasn’t responsible for what happened to him or for him getting stuck on desk duty, she didn’t deserve his anger.

“Have you tried the physical therapy yet?” Jyn asked curiously.

It had been offered to him a few weeks ago now that all his wounds were technically healed completely. He turned it down when it was offered, not seeing much point in doing so when there was no chance of him returning to the field, but with the way his back and shoulder were hurting him now due to the extreme cold, he was considering trying it just for the sake of letting his muscles get some stretching.

“No, haven’t made it over there yet, I’ve been busy.” Cassian lied, he hadn’t, he just hadn’t actually made his way over to the med bay since it was on the opposite side of the base, and taking just a few steps was an achievement for him. The last thing he wanted was for those dreaded pitiful glances to turn into offers for help to walk with him over to the med bay.

“I’ll go with you out there tomorrow after my patrol.” Jyn assured him. “You hungry? I’m starving.”

“I guess something to eat would be nice.” Cassian shrugged.

“Come on, let’s go then.” Jyn grabbed his arm and started guiding him through the base.

Cassian used to try and resist her embraces like this when he first started walking around, thinking she was taking pity on him like everyone else in the base, until one day she outright said “If I let you walk by yourself, you’ll take too long”. He didn’t know if she just made that up as an excuse to actually help guide him, or if she was genuinely that impatient, either way, something about Jyn made the whole process of limping around the base slightly less embarrassing when she was at his side.

Jyn was used to dealing with someone injured that was too stubborn to ask for help, she grew up with Saw after all who, by the time she was sixteen, was more machine than man. Cassian was no different on the stubborn front, from the day he was discharged from the med bay, he insisted on walking by himself, snapping at the med droids and anyone who made a move to help him when he looked like he was about to fall. He tried the same with her when she offered help, he acted like a wounded animal - snapping and hissing at whoever came near it in attempts to protect himself - but Jyn saw through his bullshit; besides, her bark was bigger than his bite and eventually that finally sank into his thick skull. She wasn’t going to baby him or anything like that, she wasn’t even going to try and attempt that, she still treated him like Cassian, he was still her commanding officer, and he was still a part of the Rogue One team; you help people out on your team where you can.

When she came back to the table, Jyn placed the tray of food she got for Cassian in front of him, seeming to startle him out of whatever haze he’d drifted into while she was gone. Between the dark circles under his eyes and how dull his dark brown eyes seemed today, she knew he must have been having nightmares again, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t taking his sleeping pills anymore.

“Nightmares again?” Jyn asked.

“Same one, there’s only the one.” Cassian sighed, grabbing a fork and pushing around the food on his plate, not seeming to be interested in eating any of it.

“Scarif?” Jyn asked again, she had nightmares about that place still too, no matter how hard she tried to forget it.

“Yeah.” He mumbled in reply.

Jyn wasn’t sure what his nightmare of the place was about, she imagined it was his near death on the planet, but there were so many nightmarish sights to see on Scarif during their escape that it could have been more than that. Her nightmare consisted of Krennic killing Cassian, of him seeing him coming and shooting him down once and for all before he could reach her. That evil man making her watch Cassian’s death over and over again, before finally taking mercy on her and killing her himself to collapse at Cassian’s side, their mission failed and the galaxy doomed. She never told him what her nightmare was, she figured it would have sounded like something else, that it would have been a gateway into them talking about the bond they developed or that tension they felt in the elevator to their escape where their lips almost touched - no, no, she had to stop thinking about that.

“So, uhm...how’s your back?” Jyn asked lamely, thinking up nothing else to discuss. “I know you said it’s been hurting you a lot more with the cold.”

“It’s fine.” Cassian nodded, glancing at her briefly before looking down at his food again.

“You think you can still spar?” Jyn asked curiously, if there was one thing that could get them out of the awkward lull of their conversation, it was fighting - or rather talking about fighting in this case.

Something in his eyes lit up when he looked at her now, and Jyn knew she finally hit a topic that Cassian actually wanted to talk about. “I haven’t tried yet, but I’m sure I can.” He smirked, he was presenting her with a challenge, and she was more than ready to accept it.

“Alright then, Major.” Jyn lingered on his new title for a moment, it didn’t have the same ring as Captain Andor, but something about saying it still gave Jyn a rush she couldn’t describe. “Tomorrow after I get back from my patrol, we’ll see about physical therapy for you, and then we’ll see if I can still kick your ass in the ring.”

“I seem to recall me being the better fighter.” Cassian challenged her.

“Oh that concussion must have really messed with your head if you think that’s the case.” Jyn laughed, a genuine laugh, she’d been trying to let herself experience more of those lately, and while Bodhi was pretty good at getting her to laugh at his horrible jokes, Cassian tended to bring them out of her as well. “I won’t take it easy on you.” She warned him.

“Good, I don’t expect you to. If you do, I could have you grounded here at the base for a few days.” Cassian said, he often complained about his title, but now Jyn had the strange feeling that he was enjoying it.

“You brought it on yourself, just remember that tomorrow.” Jyn smirked.

For the first time in a long time, Cassian started the day feeling good. His back didn’t hurt him as much, he was able to walk a bit smoother, he even said good morning to a few people around the base - it was almost as if her were a different man, just because someone was going to treat him like a normal human being today. Then again, it wasn’t just anyone, it was Jyn, and she always treated him as if nothing were really wrong with him to be honest, but something about knowing that for a while today he’d have her undivided attention - it made him just a bit happier. Jyn was due back from her patrol any minute now, Cassian finding any reason he could to linger by the hanger doors, and as soon as the alarm sounded for them opening up, his heart beat just a bit faster while he fought a smile back off his lips.

That swiftly vanished when he saw just Han Solo returning on a Tauntaun, him holding up Jyn’s unconscious body in front of him and her Tauntaun nowhere to be found.

“Get medics over here now, she’s hurt!” Solo called out through the hanger, one of the younger cadets taking off running while Cassian rushed over to the scene as quickly as he could, his whole world feeling like it was falling apart at the sight of Jyn unconscious, he skin as pale as the snow hanging onto her coat.

“What happened?” Cassian asked right away, grabbing Jyn as Han slowly handed her down to him, Cassian catching her in his arms and holding her close, hoping she’d get some of his warmth.

“Something out there in the snow attacked her Tauntaun, it bucked up and tossed her off before it crushed one of her legs, it might have hit her ribs too, I don’t know. She’s been knocked out since then.” Han quickly explained as he dismounted his Tauntaun and someone escorted the beast off.

Before Han could explain the situation any further, medics and a med droid made their way over to Cassian, the droid placing Jyn gently down on the gurney they brought with them before rushing her off; the medics already taking scans of her to figure out the problem.

“Might help if you’re there when she wakes up.” Han added. “She was mumbling something about you before she passed out entirely.”

Cassian gave him a brief nod before he mustered up as much strength as he could, running for the first time since his injury, all the way to the medical bay to make sure Jyn would be alright.

#rebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #rebelcaptainficrecs #my writing #rogue one #jyn erso #cassian andor

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