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slothgiirl · 2 years

Text

trashpile: influencer lite

thing i have had in my wip pile but have decided to not work on but i wanted to have it saved somewhere, notes and all.

9k. timothee x reader

you were the former ghost content creator for an influencers team (PR, manager, photographer). now is moving to do assistant PR relations for an auction house in NYC. gets invited to party w influencer (met in college).

T.C is there.

likes going to concerts and finding places to c on tiktok. tries out food recipes and going skating around central park. getting drinks w friends after work and thrifting (be green). fun media (schindler's list made me depressed for like a week yet all the books i want to read r depressing nonfiction). music is a big deal!!! maximalist!!

@ameliababy @pinksidekick @harpyhagnyc (jenny)

-1-----

“We look so fucking hot,” your former roomate and ex-boss as of yesterday smiles as she looks at the both of you in her diy mirror. It was a vestige of yesteryear's pandemic. It had been the influencer thing, but who hadn’t dabbled in do it yourself when there was nowhere to go!

You pout, and immediately stop. It was giving more duck lips than Ashley Olsen. “Yeehaw at the old time road,” you joke. A cow print slip dress had to go with cowboy boots. Your smile looked better, cute instead of hot like Amelia, but it suited you.

You both looked hot.

But realistically, even at your most pampered and dolled up, you were not the girl people approached at bars. So it would be a fun night as her plus one and that would be that.

She laughs. “I’m so glad we can hang out before leaving for Paris! Ah! I’m so fucking excited!”

“I’m excited for you,” you tell her.

“It should be you too! You helped me like, grow my brand,” she burst into laughter, still trying to wrap her head around how Instagram had become her full time job. It was a modern day cinderella story.

You shrug. “I’m taking the old degree out for a spin.” And New York city had always been your dream. Now you were here, done with school, working your first big girl job, you wanted to see how it went.

“You're a PR girlie now,” she threads her hand through your arm and takes a few pics, “Some rich people thing right?”

“For an auction house,” you explain. You started last month. It was something very different from what you imagined while in college. “It’s cool. My coworkers are chill. I mean, its no pawn stars-”

“That show is so freaking binge worthy. Like, it really got me through pulling all nighters.”

“Just me, you,” you laugh, “and some Las Vegas pawn store people.”

“Yeah like, if I had to follow a storyline and keep up with a billion seasons of Grey’s I don’t think I’d have studied. Then again, I did drop out.” She cringes for a second, before shrugging. “Facebook might be destroying the world but at least I didn’t have to finish college.”

You laugh. “There’s a bright side to everything.”

The place is done up to be instagram worthy, with cute plant covered walls and a shark disco ball as Nu plays in the background. The tables all have cute petit fours but everyones too busy taking pictures aka doing their job to eat.

One wall had #nuvision which had to be the brand or tagline for whatever was being promoted.

“Here,” Amelia says, dragging you into the frame with some other girl who had instaface, and someone else takes a picture. “You don’t mind do you?”

“Naw,” you wave it off. “It's for your stories? Right?”

“Yeah, it's more organic that way. What’s your handle,” Amelia asks the other influencer.

“@justagirlmp3,” she explains casually, “yours?”

“@ameliababy.”

“Oh how cute! I keep wanting to do the plant thing but mine always die or just don’t grow.”

“I’ve always taken care of plants,” Amelia explains and you look around, wanting a drink in your hand.

“I’m going to get a drink, want anything?”

“Um. No, later. I’m going to mingle and whatnot,” Amelia smiles. “Our table’s near the back.”

“Okay.” You squeeze her arm before going off. You’d settle for nursing a vodka cranberry.

It’s a bit of a squeeze, trying not to bump into people and surrounded by the people from insta. It was typical: kids from tiktok, the girls from insta, and industry types. Someone walks by in last season's Mugler and you’re not even surprised.

You find the bar, across from the little set up dance floor and even though you know its instagram bait the same way those pop up museums are, having done content for Amelia, the shark disco ball is still making you lose your mind. It’s too good.

Then Jeremy O’Harris walks by you in all his maximalist glory.

Oh!

You do a double take as you settle in at the bar, waiting for your turn.

It was that type of event.

There were actual famous people here.

“Star struck,” the man next to you asks.

“A little,” you turn to look at him while babbling, “his instagram is so funny.” And his style was great.

Your words make him laugh.

He was lanky with chocolate curly hair in sweatpants and a windbreaker. The odd sort of grace in his features, almost ugly but definitely interesting, makes you think he might be a model of some sort. Models, you had learned, were pretty alien from how beautiful they were.

“I would have said his plays,” the man sniggers, tipping his drink at you.

“This is going to make me sound super uncultured,” you wince, mouth dry because you never knew what to say to people out of the blue and this was exactly why you were so awkward, “but I am such a bad reader. But I did watch that internet play he did.” The bar tender spots you.

Thank god.

You needed to shut up and stop embarrassing yourself.

You order a cranberry vodka.

“Didn’t catch that but Slave Play,” his eyes widen, for some reason still talking to you which felt like a joke, “wow.” He deadpans like Owen Wilson, “It was amazing. Got robbed at the Tonys though.”

“I only liked Hamlet,” you admit, “it's like the only play I didn’t sparknote. My teacher was really passionate about it so it actually clicked for me. I think it’s the way she taught it, first having us watch it performed and how plays just don’t hit the same when read off page but I couldn’t exactly go to Broadway las summer,” the summer of the pandemic. You sip at your drink, the tartness cancelling out the burn of the vodka.

“You should try reading it sometime if you're such a fan,” he says lightly. “I’m Timothee.”

You tip your drink at him, introducing yourself. “Nice to meet you. II’ll probably get the book and it’ll sit on my shelves for ages. It’s rare for me to really get into a book and read more than a chapter at a time.” You were a slow reader hence sparknoting most books or else you wouldn't have ever completed the assignments. It took time for you to parse out the meaning, the subtext.

Timothee laughs again. “I like the honesty.”

“Thank you,” you giggle, before glancing around. It seemed like the work part of the night was winding down. People were starting to head to their tables. “It’s like Fran Lebowitz said, life’s too short to watch a boring movie or finish a book you don’t like.”

“Ah,” he points, “but you have to try first.”

“Or it could be my second play.” You shrug. “I mean, shame on me. I’ve lived in the city for nearly five years now and never been to Broadway.”

“No! No,” his expressions are captivating in their openness, “you have to go. Watch anything. But rush the show for the optimal Broadway experience.”

“I did see Mamma Mia at my college’s theater,” you try with a laugh. “It was a good time. Nowhere near as sparkly as the movie.”

“You can’t beat Colin Firth,” he agrees.

“Right! It was like the scene from Pride and Prejudice all over again.” The BBC version was your experience with Jane Austen. “My teacher, same one as Hamlet, was like please don’t sparknote the book just watch the deep dive BBC series from the 90s.”

“I can’t tell if that's amazing or if she should’ve pushed the book.”

“Whatever works,” you shrug, “and it was AP english so I don’t think it was that we didn’t know how to read a book. I just don’t know that high school books are the most. . .interesting though I get that they matter because of their influence. And catching those references.”

Timothee grins, “should’ve tossed in Baldwin or Tennese Williams.”

“I don’t know who they are,” you confess. “I was thinking more My sister the serial killer, not that my sister is a serial killer,” you add lamely.

He throws his head back and laughs with you, “glad we cleared that up.”

“Okay maybe I’m just a bad reader.” You laugh, “The book on my nightstands about to start invading my nightmares.”

“Very Spongebob tries to write an essay,” he brings up, then scrunches his brows, “is Spongebob just as culturally important as Shakespeare?”

“Yes! The Spongebob generation is about to start including some deep cuts in their emmy award winning shows.”

Timothee shakes his head, smiling widely. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that already happened.”

You’re half done with your drink and you still haven’t had anything to eat. The petit fours were right out of Marie Antoinette. “Well, it was nice meeting you,” you smile, wanting to get back to Amelia. “See you around,” you say in the same way you’d tell classmates you’d only talked to in class but hadn’t made the leap to friends with. Guys who looked like that didn’t bother with girls like you.

New York was different in that you had found friends and expanded the definition of who you could be but some things remained as distant as ever.

“Yeah,” he says, biting his lip, “see you around.”

Amelia is uploading a picture of her plate, artfully arranged. “Did you see Hari Nef was here?”

“Yeah, I did see some famous faces,” you note with a quick wink, “what's this event for again?”

“Some new cool camera lens for filming and Nokia,” she explains. “I know, it's like people who actually do stuff instead of being walking billboards.”

“What a self drag,” you snort.

“Gotta keep it light and fun. Be able to laugh at yourself.” She dusts her shoulder off.

“Eh, you're always risking it all for the shot.” And you gas her up about her job, “besides, not everyone can come up with all those fits you’ll change into and haul around.”

“Who would’ve known,” Amelia laughs, “an influencer's secret weapon is my bag from college to haul around outfit changes. Which reminds me! You have to come visit me in Paris. I promise not to make you carry my bag up the Eiffel tower this time.”

It’s bittersweet. You love her. She was your first friend in the city and you too did everything together for a good while. She was still who you texted when you were feeling stuck ina funk and her leaving right as you began the next stage of your life felt like the start of a slippery slope into depression all over again.

You were still happy for her. “It was my workout for the month,” you joke, trying to have a good time instead of spiraling, “Can’t skip leg day.”

-------2-----

You had a gut feeling not to go out tonight. Zara was a friend. Not a close friend, but the friend who had known where all the plots were for the weekend. The fun friend.

Senior year, you buckled down and studied. You guys had grown distant and that was further amplified once you graduated. While you had been wiping down your fruit with clorox wipes, she had uploaded posts of her on vacation in Miami.

Now she was making more money waitressing in Manhattan than you were in your “career” job.”

But she had hit you up and anything seemed better than staying in on a Saturday night like a loser. You were young and living in your dream city. Going out was a no brainer.

There would be plenty of nights in: monday through thursday.

From the get go you had been the odd one out. Zara’s college friend: the others all hung out more.

But oh well. You had done your makeup and felt cute in a dress and sparkly mesh top underneath. You were going to enjoy a few drinks.

It would still be a nice time.

And then the universe decided to shit in your dinner once again as they say in Castlevania.

You had come back from the bathroom and they were gone. You sent Zara a text.

Zara: oh we decided to go to the bar down the street instead 🤪

It was a sign.

You could read the room.

It was only ten pm but you were calling it a night. Time to watch 13 going on 30 again. Not cry. You were a big girl who could deal with set backs. No more depression, none of that. This was fourteen year old you’s dream since the first time you watched the Devil Wears Prada. This was what you worked for all those nights studying.

It would be fine.

You weren’t fifteen and eating lunch alone anymore. You had other people in your life: a halloween murder mystery dinner where you were just dying to go as Marie Anoitnette with a line of blood across your neck.

You head out the door.

“Hey, I didn’t actually think I’d be seeing you again,” Timothee says as he’s entering the bar. He looks good, curls falling into his face.

“Big city,” you nod, it was a chance coincidence to ever see the same person twice in a city of millions.

“Heading out already,” he asks as you both hover by the entrance.

Not wanting to feel like the world’s biggest loser that got ditched, you lie, “yeah, I-my friend had an emergency.” It really wasn’t that big of a deal. Zara could be unreliable.

“You sure you don’t want to stay and grab a drink,” he offers kindly, his eyes taking in your outfit, “I’m meeting up with some friends.”

“Oh-,” you shake your head, “you don’t have to-”

“But I want to,” Timothee shrugs with a grin, tilting his head towards the bar, “come on.”

“I-,” there was no reason not to. But you didn’t want some puty invitation either.

“It’s okay,” he grins, “it's fine if you don’t want to, but the offer’s there. Unless you want to wait until the next press thing to run into each other.”

“I doubt that,” you laugh, “I was my friend’s plus one. She’s a social butterfly but hates going to places alone.”

“So?”

“Okay,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “yeah. I could go for a drink.”

Timothee leads you into the bar, winding his way through the crowd easily with his tall lithe frame. The bar isn’t huge, but there’s enough time for anxiety to find its way into the palms of your hands, dampening with sweat as you follow him over to where his friends are.

“Ally cancelled,” a black girl with hair bobbed to her chin greets Timothee with an eye roll, “again.”

“Oh please,” the blonde guy next to her laughs, “I couldn’t even get a text back when you were dating that one girl. At least she let us know!”

“I did not!”

“Did too.”

“You did,” Timothee piles on, “This is the girl from the party I was telling you about.”

You’re surprised, feeling your cheeks flush. He’d talked about you? He’d remembered you to start with? “Hey-,” suddenly feeling nervous all over again about interrupting him and his friends. Maybe you should have just left.

The last guy at the table sits up, that ambiguously brown look that could be Italian, Iranian or some country that would be a question on Jeopardy. “You mean,” he intones meaningfully. “The girl.”

Timothee runs a hand through his head, looking away, “yeah.”

The guy smirks, “2021, it’s your year man!”

Timothee flushes, rolling his eyes.

“We already started. Gotta love garlic cheese fries,” the girl cuts in from whatever that was, “I’m June. That’s Jakob,” she gestures at the blonde next to her, “and he’s Anton.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Before you can start worrying about where to sit, June scoots over, “the zombie here comes with those gummy eyes.”

“First jello shots,” Jakob starts, “a little pregame for them.”

“Jello shots are only fun at house parties,” Anton complains, “or in those halloween syringes.”

“You’re such a snob,” June snaps back.

“I’ll just have a beer,” Timothee states, grabbing a fry off the plate. “And we went to an arts high school, no one’s worse than theater kids! I can admit that about myself.”

“Don’t drag techies into this,” Jakob retorts.

“Sure,” Timothee snorts, “keep telling yourself that.”

Anton raises his own beer.

“Drinks people,” June taps the table, “we are here to drink! Not think about that awful staging of shrek!”

“No way Shrek’s a musical,” you say, “that’s such a cash grab. Shrek is perfect as is.”

In unison, Timothee and Anton go, “shrek is life.”

“Don't be boring,” Jakob says. “Get a gross cocktail or something. A bloody mary.”

“Bloody mary’s are gross. It's soup pretending to be a drink,” you point out. The correct way to soup was warm and on a rainy day at home, preferably with a slice of bread.

“She’s right,” Timothee nods, “Nothing good about a bloody mary. It comes with celery. Another strike against it.”

“Speaking of cocktails,” June winks, “there’s this bar that has dalgona martinis. Perf for squid game.”

“I still haven’t watched it,” Timothee admits, “I’ve been jet lagged like crazy.” He pulls a face, going cross-eyed, head drooping.

You laugh. “Is it that show like? Battle Royale?”

“Kind of,” Jakob tilts his head. “It’s like Battle Royale, American Ninja Warrior and Parasite.”

You cringe. “I didn’t watch that. I could just tell it was going to be one of those serious critically acclaimed movies and I couldn’t do it! II couldn’t spend the next week having a midlife crisis and depressed over a movie. Did enough of that in 2020.”

Timothee nods, “fair point. Sometimes you just need to turn your brain off and watch Zoolander.”

“I love Zoolander!” You were so there for cheesy 2000s movies. They were such a comfort.

“You should! Watch Squid game I mean,” Jane nudges your elbow, “after we get our dalgona martinis.”

“You’re really set on that aren’t you,” Timothee teases. “Don’t you have a dance class to teach.”

“Choreographer now, actually. And I have to do technical work with the company. That’s true,” Jane covers her face with a hand. “But not until Monday! Aye!”

“Just don’t go to Germany,” Anton says as the waitress drops off a round of jello shots and an assortment of drinks. You feel for her arm. You’re in awe of her arm strength. “Especially not if the headmistress is Markos.”

You laugh, having watched Suspiria the first week of October. You had not understood it at all, but the ending scene was pretty good.

It’s nice.

Timothee and his friends.

You drink the zombie and settle in without ceremony. No one bats an eye. It’s easy to make conversation and they include you without thinking.

Not a bad Saturday night.

And Timothee’s smile wasn’t bad either.

anton @antonofff jakob @tech_mech june @juneb0ateng cancelled: @allymarker

-------3----

“Fuck, its here too!” You and your three roommates were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. There had been water on the floor of the bathroom. When you’d looked around the apartment, you’d found water in the kitchen, in the closet you shared with your roommate. The place was flooded.

“Asshole landlord hasn’t answered,” José complains. “Evelyn?”

“It’s spreading to the hall,” she shouts back.

“Let’s just get everything off the floor we can and open the windows,” you try. This had never happened to you before. Calling the landlord was your one and only play here. Rent had been paid.

“Fuck no. I’m not staying here,” Evelyn complains, “what if it's water from the sewer!”

Your toes curl in your shoes from disgust. Gross.

“Dark horse solution,” Connor comes out of his room with a bag, “we bounce.”

“Uh-uh,” Evelyn crosses her arms over her chest. “I paid for the month. They’re not keeping my coins.”

“Well we can’t stay here,” José points out. “Evelyn's right. The wayers probably gross. And like mold, right?” He pauses, “oh-I-I have contact, hi Mr. Patel,” he goes out into the hall.

You scroll through your phone, trying to think of whether to get a hotel for the night or search up who needed a roommate right now. It was so fucked up.

Sure, you lived in a shoebox. The place smelled like tobacco no matter what scent diffuser you plugged in, and you were paying a small fortune for a shared room, but if you stuck your head out the window, there was a view.

Yeah, time to find a new place.

This was a sign.

You scroll through your feed.

@harpyhagnyc love is fake (pic of cutting up ex bfs clothes

You don’t even think, dialing her phone as you toss your meager possessions into the carry on suitcase that had by some miracle been on the top shelf storing a small fortune in textbooks on marketing from college. “Hey, I just saw-”

“He’s such an asshole,” Jenny replies, “I should’ve seen it coming. Bringing up a threesome after I told him I was bi was a major red flag!”

“Jesus christ.” He sounded like an asshole.

“I know!” You hear background noise of what sounds like ripping. “I met his fucking parents! I wore no makeup like a nun and didn’t say shit when they brought up illegal immigration!” More noise and you wonder what exactly she’s destroying. “And he has the audacity to cheat on me with some bitch with no tits!”

You sort of want to laugh even though the situation sounds awful. Jenny was older than you by five years. She'll be thirty soon. This was her relationship. She lived with the guy. They’d bought dishes together.

José starts arguing over the phone and you can just tell you’re not getting the deposit back. Connor was right. Time to bounce. The commute from Washington Heights to your job was a nightmare during rush hour.

“What’s up with you,” Jenny asks.

“Apartments flooded.”

“Fuck,” she replies immedietly. “You have anywhere to crash. That shit takes ages to fix.”

“I was about to go on like airbnb but instagram happened.”

She laughs. “Fuck airbnb, jacking up rent prices. No. Come over, help me be the crazy ex girlfriend that sets the teddy bear on fire! And have pizza. I need something greasy to make it through the night.”

“No-I can’t do that to you.”

“I insist. . .and you do the file on that atrocious pair of earrings. Seriously, my earlobe detached just from looking at them.”

You sigh. Looking behind you as Evelyn decided to give Mr. Patel a piece of her mind, you figure it wasn’t getting solved tonight and finding a new place would take time. “Yeah. Okay. Send me your address.”

Jane snorts, “I sent you to buy me tampons and I haven’t even invited you over.”

“Hey, I was into those bagels you got us. And we braved the thrift store together. Moving clothes down the rack is a workout,” you comment.

“It is. Let me know when you get here.”

��K,” you nod even though she can’t see.

You hang up, googling her address quickly. Without Amelia here, and still annoyed at Zara, there was no one else you felt a strong urge to tell your apartment was flooded other than your timeline. You weren’t about to worry your mom and grandma about this. Not when they lived across the country.

Your thoughts stray to Timothee and June but you barely knew them. The night had ended with taxis home and realizing you never so much as exchanged info. Maybe he realized he didn’t want to hang out again? Maybe you were all too drunk. Either way, you doubted the universe would toss you a third bone.

People didn’t go out of their way for you like they had Amelia even in sweatpants. She just had that magnetic factor: being photogenic was the cherry on top. You had to make the effort to hang out with people and make friends.

And even then, you had a resting bitch face. Probably the reason, after being majorly depressed all of high school, that you had been such a loner.

“So,” Connor asks, unplugging his Nintendo, “what did he say?”

Evelyn looks pissed.

José answers, “it’s wednesday night. He’ll try and get someone in tomorrow but you know, try and deal with it until then.”

“Unbelievable,” Connor huffs.

Evelyn says, “yeah, I’m going to go stay with my parents. Fuck. I managed to go through a pandemic without moving back home, but this!”

“Did you ask him to pay our hotel,” Connor asks more to the point.

“I sent him pictures and he thinks its not that bad.”

“Oh fuck him.”

“It’s our own little private beach,” you deadpan, “might as well charge more for that.”

“I hate how right you are,” José says.

You look at your roommates. It had been about a year. You knew José from a comparative lit class. The amount of bullshitting you had done for those participation points!

Connor was clean.

Evelyn came in at 3 am from clubbing.

Pretty good as far as roommates go.

“I’m going to go crash at a friends.” You tell them.

As if your apartment flooding wasn’t bad enough, the MTA had announced a delay. So it was just you and your suitcase in the subway like a loser. You weren’t about to walk from Washington Heights down to East Harlem. Not with the suitcase.

In your first days in New York, when you only ever looked up, at the buildings, the skyscrapers, not blinking at the thought of taking the subway because being there to take the subway was a dream come true, back when you’d walk from your dorm to Greenwich village and always take selfie near Washington Square Arch, then you’d gotten a job. All the papers and projects had beaten you down. You were busy ghost making Amelia’s content and hating the subway with a passion.

It takes twice the amount of time it should to get to where Jenny lives. It’s a straight shot and the MTA fucks even that up.

(Your mom had called you the moment she’d seen videos of flooded subway stations.)

You're expecting Harlem but she lives on the border of Yorkville. You can’t see it, only hear the highway where cars go to park, but you know that Central Park is nearby.

It’s nice.

You look up at the buildings, brownstones, murals by street artists and storefronts full of mom and pop shops, and remember why you love the city. Like a crazy person, which doesn’t raise any eyebrows here, you do a little twirl on the sidewalk, nearing the edge so no one shoulder checks you for blocking the way.

New York City.

The big apple.

The city that never sleeps.

There was no other place like it. You’d take all the pizza rats in the world over living anywhere else. It was a love hate relationship. You hate the city, but you hate everywhere else more and take the city over fucking Texas. Or worse, a flyover state.

You had done that already.

You breathe in the shitty air, cigarettes and burnt oil from a restaurant nearby and feel content.

Jenny buzzes you up, “I’m packing his shit up. But keeping all that ikea shit.”

You laugh, “sounds about right.”

“Now I’m going to have to pay all the rent. Like half the reason to have a boyfriend is to split rent, right? And sure,” she leads the way through the building. It’s brick and old enough to not have an elevator despite being five stories tall. She’s on the fourth floor. “Kevin pays half, and he’s a dream. Does like, help center stuff from some website and keeps vampire hours,” Jenny did dress in lots of oversized textured black garments that made her vaguely look like a batman outline, or Morticia Addams grandmother. “but still! I’m back to that thousand dollar rent for the weirdest fucking apartment.”

She unlocks the door.

“Oh my god I love your windows.” They let in so much light that it didn’t feel like a shoebox you note. It's a great place. Though the living room is such a wonky shape, practically its own walk-in closet cut off from the rest of the space like it had been an afterthought. There was a cheap ikea desk, but the computer was gone.

“One day I’ll be one of those plant hoes,” she utters. “My pipes broke one winter when I was in college. Nightmare. And the landlord was so shitty, set me up in a roach infested motel.” She does a full body shiver and you fight the urge to check yourself for roaches.

“I hope it's not that bad but I’m sick of sharing a room,” you admit. “I can afford my own room.” It’s cut into your budget, less savings, more rent, but sharing a room was so college.

“Yeah, the auction house is pretty good. I mean, its just rich people’s version like an estate sale. Instead of grandma’s Sear’s dress its like vintage chanel.”

You laugh because it was so accurate. You’d handled diamonds the size of your fist. “That’s a good way to put it. Though so far all my PR work has been doing research and background checks. Is that even PR?”

“Who knows,” Jenny shrugs, “I do the repairs. Or find the specialists. There's like three clock guys in all of New York.”

“I’m surprised a ghost hasn’t followed us home.” You grin.

“Shut up. Just what I need, a freeloading roommate. No, if you haint me you’re paying rent.” She pours you a glass of cheap wine, barefoot brand. “I need to watch Gone Girl before I gone girl Preston.”

“That name’s a red flag,” you utter, “like the villain from Riverdale.”

“Totally. Hindsight is twenty twenty and I’ve always had a thing for finance bros,” she admits.

You look up thoughtfully. It hadn’t been until college when you had started to have romantic experiences of any category, and you always had the lingering doubt it was a joke on you. There wasn’t really a common denominator there. “I had a date in college make me cup noodles.” It had been bad.

Maybe he had just being trying to have sex?

You don’t know.

You just went to the bathroom and never went back.

“Oh god,” she snorts, “even the cafeteria food would’ve been better. Sneak some out in a container.”

It wasn’t a bad idea.

You hadn’t bought the meal plan. “I think I only ate there once. It felt pointless to go there when there’s so many deli’s and pizza joints on every corner.”

“Well, as long as they don’t mansplain bitcoin every time it pops up on the news. I do antique restoration! I don’t care about NFT,” Jenny points out.

You laugh. “Still not sure how that's worth anything? Can’t you just screenshot it?”

“No clue.”

“Fuck I’m not great at math or art,” you pout. Maybe you needed to work on those creative juices, go pick up a cheap set of acrylics at Michaels.

“Are you kidding? The birthday card you made me was so cute. Sure, in a corporate soulless marketing way but cute.”

Your shoulders shake from the laughter, “thanks for that. I guess I need to start my own aesthetically pleasing in a clone of that girl instagram.”

“It’s so boring!” Jenny complains. “Same-y same.”

“Maybe you're just a bitter millennial.” You comment with a wry smile.You agreed with the sentiment to a point. If they weren’t hurting anyone let them have their white walls and artfully arranged açai bowls. You would stick to whatever you found as you rushed out the door.

“Maybe,” she drinks her wine. “That could be it.”

“No. I do think there’s like overarching aesthetics for the moment. I mean, mid 2010s hipsters? 90s heroine chic and early 2000s boho?” You could go back further but you;d made your point.

“Hey, you wanna go get pizza and walk around central park,” she asks. “Before it's too cold to leave my bed.”

“Sure,” you smile brightly. You loved a good walk around a park. And Central Park was the park. Huge, it felt like going camping without the hassle. “I’d love that.”

“Ooh,” she holds up a hand, “let me go get my sketchbook. Oh and toss your things in the living room. It was Preston’s zoom room last year but who knows what it’ll be now. Putting a couch there is kind of pointless. I’ve always had my tinfoil hat theory that it’s supposed to be a bedroom or something.”

“Thanks again.”

“No worries,” she smiles.

------4----

“If weed is legal in new york,” Jenny wonders, “then where the hell do I buy it.” You had both made plans to see some sci-fi movie she was into.

Between sorting your shit out and finding a room divider, Chinatown was a godsend even if it had been really annoying to cart the brown wood divider from Chinatown to East Harlem, you hadn’t really hung out. Not properly. Work didn’t count.

The living room had been partitioned off for you. A cool 600$ instead of 500$ for just a bed. Kevin had set up a chore wheel.

“No clue. Didn’t it just become legal.” You had never bought weed before. Someone would have it at house parties and you’d take a few puffs or eat a firecracker. You had never actually bought weed.

Swiping idly through instagram, you realize you have a message.

@rhinestoneyez (tc finsta) : i nvr got ur n#

@rhinestoneyez: thank gd for insta 🥴i guess

You frown.

With a tap of your finger, you go to their profile but the picture is some blurry landscape and they don’t have their name anywhere. The account is also private. Yours was not. Small as it is.

You had nothing to hide, and rarely posted anything other than funny memes.

But your name was on your insta.

@pinksidekick: who is this🧐

@rhinestoneyez: *pic of TC*

“It did. I think only this year,” Jenny tells you, “I need to watch Dune high! It’ll be so meta.” She holds up her fingers like an Italian chef, “the spice must flow!”

You laugh, happy to see your friend happy. She had been through the wringer, going through a shitty breakup. “Can we get it delivered?”

There had to be some way to get it. People were lazy. You could get anything delivered now.

Your fingers hover over your phone. Timothee had done the work. He had found your instagram. You swallow, not sure how to feel.

He was nice and you liked talking to him. You’d had a good night with him and his friends, but you were lost as to what to do now. What to say? How to go from here.

Looking someone up on insta wasn’t unusual.

Like your therapist had said, you reason that if he dm’d you, it was because he wanted to. You didn’t need to overthink it. Occam's razor.

“Good idea,” Jenny says, leaning against the kitchen bar, “let me figure that out.”

You decide to send a friend request. Easy, low pressure.

Even though he had sent the message, you still feel your stomach churn as you wait.

You close the app and when you open it again, you can see his profile. It’s mostly random pictures and selfies, both flattering and now, a couple shots of some cool graffiti. It checked out. He checked out.

@pinksidekick: ahhh i was hoping it was june

@rhinestoneyez: heY

@pinksidekick: but ur not bad either

@rhinestoneyez: ty ty i will take what i can get

You bite your bottom lip.

Was this flirting? Or were you just being dumb.

“Okay,” Jenny tells you, “there’s a dispensary on the other side of Central park for us which would be faster than getting it delivered apparently. So let’s go! Let’s go nerds! Let’s go!”

You shake your head at her, “says the woman who doesn't know where to buy weed.”

“I took red ribbon week to heart,” she jokes.

You grab a coat but forgo a sweater in the October evening.

@rhinestoneyez: i was thinking we should meet up on purpose

@rhinestoneyez: instead of leaving it up to whether or not mars is in retrograde

@pinksidekick: idk???

@pinksidekick: ill have to see how my crystals r vibing

@rhinestoneyez: lmk

@rhinestoneyez: ill b in the city by the start of november

@pinksidekick: traveling in a panorama🤮

*insert meme*

@rhinestoneyez: put the pitchfork down

@rhinestoneyez: i have moderna

@rhinestoneyez: pfizer

@rhinestoneyez: j&j

@rhinestoneyez: astrazeneca

@pinksidekick: okie hehe 🍾 i dont have plans for november ,, and in free pretty much every weekend

Jenny grabs your elbow, “get off your phone zoomer!”

“Isn’t that why I have you?” You joke and put your phone in your huge coat pocket.

You enter the dispensary and immediately are assaulted with the smell of skunk and patchouli that you could never tell if you liked or hated.

The inside intimidates you the same way a the big Chanel or Louis Vuitton stores with bodyguards do. You felt like a five year old masquerading as an adult (exactly why 13 going on 30 spoke to your soul).

“This is going to sound very galaxy brained of me,” Jenny warns you as you both look at the various displays and apparently having a weed habit was expensive and another reason you didn’t like going clubbing. Guys were not sending you free drinks and 15$ drinks burned a hole in your wallet . “But, should we get edibles because smoking is bad.”

You laugh. “It’s weed not kale.”

“I know, but no form of smoking is great?” She firrows her thick brows, “right?”

“We live in new york. We probably have that second hand smoke thing.”

“You’re not wrong,” she tilts her head in acknowledgement. “I think I’ll get some gummies though.”

“Should I get one too,” you wonder out loud, now that you are here. “Like emergency edibles?”

“Do it! Why not?”

You both buy gummies and pop one as soon as you step out of the store.

They’re a little weird tasting, stale and wrong like those Dots candies no one wanted on Halloween.

“At this rate,” Jenny says, leading the way to the subway station. Her weird indie theater for Dune was not that far from where you lived, but too far to walk when the movie started in an hour. “It should kick in at the end of the 1984 movie and we’ll be perfect for the new one.”

“Wait what?” You ask, having agreed the moment she had explained she had two tickets because she was going to go with Preston before he cheated, so you were fuzzy on the details.

“It’s a double feature.” She explains. “First the old movie from the 80s then the new one. There’s like a break in between so we can go grab food.”

“Okay that actually sounds pretty fun,” you nod, but the best double feature-”

She holds up a hand, “don’t-”

“Is The Mummy and Mad Max Fury Road,” you offer, “They're both orange.”

“Oh so Willy Wonka fits the theme,” she rolls her eyes.

“The Gene Wilder version,” you nod. “It’s so good. The boat cave scene!”

Jenny shakes her head.

You finally arrive at the movie theater and it’s tucked into a skyscraper and again you’re hit with the realization that you live in New York City. There’s malls in skyscrapers.

There’s a giddiness to your step that might be the weed.

Jenny shows the tickets on her phone.

You see the film poster for Dune and Venom 2 still playing and you wonder if you can just sneak into Venom because that was fun. “Did you watch Venom,” you ask Jenny.

“I didn’t,” she wrinkles her nose, “I can’t with all the second hand embarrassment.”

You laugh, “the way I skip through any parts like that at home!”

Jenny grabs popcorn and you see a poster for a new movie by the dude who made The Grand Budapest Hotel which was so cute and funny. You thought you might like his other movies but Moonrise Kingdom was so boring! You smile, tilting your head, one of the actors looks like Timothee.

“Okay,” Jenny asks, nudging your shoulder as you head for the auditorium, “best seats in a movie theater. Go!”

“Middle,” you try, feeling like this was a trick question.

“I would say furthest up top,” she replies, “I just hate the ones right up in front of the screen.”

“Yeah, the first row sucks.” You can almost feel the kink in your neck at the thought.

You’re in a movie theater with two movies starring Timothee Chalamet playing and it’s not until you see his face projected in front of you that it clicks that the actor was the guy you knew: the guy you were planning on meeting.

You have no clue what happens in the movie apart from Oscar Issac being hot as you stare into space trying to digest that bit of information.

@pinksidekick: sends @rhinestoneyez his official insta ?

@rhinestoneyez: oh yea

@rhinestoneyez: so what do u do for work 🥸

----5--------

“I thought you knew,” he cries with a smile, “you just weren’t being weird about it.”

“I-okay. That’s fair,” you agree, “but I didn’t! I thought you were some model or tiktok dude.”

Timothee laughs as you too walk to an arcade

5. u and TC met up on purpose. its kinda awkward. end up going to an arcade and its good and fun and u realize hes like the closest thing to a friend uve had since u were 13.

----6-----

6. TC hits u up after like over a months silence (he was doing press) and ur like idk im busy. “doing what” “work? i have to go down into the archives of nyc main library” hes like “i can spend a day at the library” sneaks food in for u and ur like thats evil but he still feeds you a couple fries. then takes u for a bodega bagels OR dim sum.

7. TC invites u to hang w friends. ur like, my dude im going w roommate to a drag show (zara apologises and u to talk). hes like okay but then u have to compromise and come to our lunch thing tomorrow: cheese board at central park. everyone gets day drunk. TC traces figures into your side and it hits u he might actually like you!

8. for work u go to some gallery opening and look at art that makes u wonder if it even is art. and the its like over a million dollars. its about creating realionships MS PR tells u and then ur rubbing shoulders w wall street ppl who dont care. and u overheard someone saying ur kinda ugly and ugly girls r easy. *cue crying at a painting and the artist is like oh u rlly like it and u lie and say yeah thats the reason and u get invited to her studio to pose. one of TCs friends is there! (pretentious ass anton)

9. art lady’s gf is fashion designer and is like u have an old ancestor face unlike instaface. be in my lookbook and ur like, i guess? and bridges r being built. u r at some house party by collina strada that's like a rave/vendor festival. run into TC who looks ridiculous and hes like yeah i wanted to wear the dress but i ended up w my titties out. june was invited bc she did the choreography for the show.

10. u have to guide some fashion designer (daniel roseberry) through jewelry. hes like maybe i can buy some for inspo and use some for decor in the new store inside berdorfs goodman. (get sent some schiaparelli goodies) PR kinda sucks like only 50k and yr broke but u r meeting cool ppl tho most influencers r vapid. TC is like lets get a very later dinner? italian in some side alley on staten island and it's too late to go home so u end up booking a hotel room (fuck?) and ride a bicycle in the early dawn. (get papped)

11. amelia is like why didnt u tell me u were dating TC! u have a day at work and timothee calls u and is like im not saying anything and they didnt get a clear ID so they shouldnt bother u but can i come over? and he does, u make food to calm down like yeah baby nothing like making pasta ! u watch bobs burgers and u tell him about how u want to paint ur room divider and hes like u think theyll hear us if we fuck? and ur like “get ur head out of the gutter OR we’ll never know if we dont try it out?”

12. timothee makes coffee and breakfast (toast and jelly) and jennys like ??? u look like the guy from dune which he finds funny af and then reclusive roommate (kevin) tells u all to shit up. jenny heads to jersey to visit her parents for the day. u and timothee go roller skating bc its 90s night and u love vengaboys

13. u, june, and josé go to see beach bunny. u guys talk amd josé got a job running the media accounts of something super boring (a chain of family diners like four of them out in staten island and queens). junes like so… and ur all idk we have really DTR and u have feelings of like wow he does all these cool stuff and jetsets and like im from Reno and am like a floundering college grad. and junes like dont stress about it then yet. like just go w it. which josé is like hell yeah we r in our twenties time to make all the stories we will tell our pearl clutching family about next time we see them. june and u make plans to hit up a cute christmas themed bar (u invite zara).

14. u and timothee talk thanksgiving and go look at music records. ur like my taste in music comes from the movie marie antoinette. and hes like oh ud like wes anderson (ur experiences r not relatable) and then u buy takeout and go back to urs and paint ur room divider.

15. u spend xmas w evelyn in queens. text w timothee. he comes over at like midnight bc ur both in the city and u fuck.

16. december. u work from home uploading a bunch of catalogue things on the auction houses website then go ice skating w timothee. this time u get papped and they can see ur face and ppl drag u for looking sloppy but like idk ur a normal person not an influencer.

17. amelia calls u and does a mental health check on u and is like idk do u want a glow up aka getting ur clothes tailors and like ur not sure? ur also in reno watching reno 911 on youtube w ur family. u call timothee. u make nye plans. *pic of lake tahoe*

18. kevin and jenny have brought leftovers from home. kevin is from staten island (i thought staten island was full of mob bosses) “jenny that joke is so old ur mama calls it mama” jenny is doing nyes w a costuming friend (ty, gay asian fashion designer who does theater costuming) and kevin is like i cant go there its just all of u dressing like ur in crimson peak so u take kevin w u and timothee and u go clubbing w him and his friends. u dont arrive together but u r on the list (1 Oak). end up at timothee’s place.

19. u and timothee make breakfast and sleep together again and hes like im so into u its wild. and ur like haha u r sure thats not just ur dick talking and hes like no way. TDR u r dating. u put on youve got mail and hes like wow they and right after tom hanks lost everything to amazon and u two end up going to buy books at an independent store and grab lunch and read but u cant stop sneaking looks at him U R LOVESICK

20. ppl keep commenting asking about him on ur insta as u r just a working girl. it is now february. timothee brings u lunch to ur work bc he will b gone for a moment doing work and is trying to spend time w u. u have a spring trip to paris planned to c Amelia.

21. u and josé and evelyn go rush phantom of the opera and catch up. u text timothee. catch like 1 person side eying u and like ugh u dont like that at all

22. paris trip in march. use ur three words u kno in french bc u love stromae. u and amelia do cute girl shit (cafes in the day and u read and do art and then go catch parties and clubs and see maneskin and all the museums w music and go to versailles in marie antoinette inspired dresses. it hails on u and amelia who tells u about the two french guys shes seeing and her roommate melanie who works in the dior atelier.

23. timothee surprises u in paris and u spend the two days 2 have together having sex in the hotel room and only coming out for food. hes like we should go to a knicks game together and ur okay yeah. and he reads to u in bed.

POTENTIAL END

24. u and jenny do afternoon tea w her costuming friend (Ty and Hitomi) and hitomi is looking for a place to stay. jenny mentions kevin might move to SF. ur like um i would like a door ? get in line.

25. u meet timothees parents at a off broadway production. then grab dinner at gag and tollner. theyre nice nut unrelatable to u who grew up working class. like ur 99% sure ur mom has no clue who shakespeare is let alone tom stoppard or anna akhmatova. they r the type of family to go do a pottery class together and ur a latchkey kid. again, u feel the distance between the worlds u inhabit.

26. u stay at his and hes like u r melancholy whats up? and ur like i cant rn i have to rush to work. u end up seeing each other a few days later when u go to a coffee shop and do work together. he reads scripts and u copywrite. then u finally r like ugh idk ur unrelatable and its all in my head but like, im the first person in my family to go to college! i feel weird idk and theres nothing timothee can really do to fix it but as soon as u say it out loud u feel silly and hes like open to listening and all and it ends up being a fuss over nothing

27. u grab dinner w timothee and ally and her bf (some computer sci rich guy) they all talk about travelling and meanwhile u only have a week of vacation time left so like u cant really and u just sort of sit there 🤡

28. timothee goes to do work in la and invites u out but u cant rlly afford it and like ur not broke but student loan debt and rent and ur retirement fund. u talk to jenny about it and shes like idk if he offers accept? and also how u need to talk about it if u two move in together

29. u, june and amelia do fashion week and amelia complains about nepo babies and june’s like yeah my parents r rich but like low end rich and u all talk about class and privilege and amelia’s like its just annoying when i spend hours pouring over 1000s pics to find the one good shot and these rich girls post whatever just bc theyre socialites my problem isnt w ppl w talent or that the door is opened for them but they still have to do the work to actually succeed after that initial door. you feel better and then u hit an after party for a brand.

30. u get called a fame whore bc u popped up in fashion week feed and decide to put ur account on private after reading the second comment calling u ugly and how u need to shave that mustache. u and timothee and his sister grab lunch then go bowling.

31. zara invites u to go kayaking. she brings two of her friends and u get soaked we and gross but its fun and free.

32. kevin moves out. Hitomi moves in. you and timothee spend the week together before he leaves to go film dune 2 and hes like u have to visit me.

33. u interview for other jobs (madewell marketing, spotify marketing) u see one for goldman sachs but it seems soul sucking. manager positions seem too professional for your meager year of experience. u end up at lifebowl (dumb salad chain for office workers) doing digital marketing.

34. before new job starts, u go visit timothee on set. havent seen him in over two months, fuck. meet zendaya and all these stars and u tease him (ur lucky oscar issac isnt here) and he shows u around a bit but u two cant keep ur hands off each other. timothees like i want to spend every moment together and u laugh and ur like im such a dick when i wake up tho. hes like well im an early riser. and u complain about how he leaves clothes all over the floor and dishes in the sink at night and hes like move in w me and i wont leave any dishes in the sink. u laugh and hes like no im serious. or we can find a place u like he looks away nervous even tho ur naked together (his cum is on ur tits) and ur like when u get back and i get settled into my new job we can figure out but yeah id loved to move in w u

35. new job. jenny goes to work at christies ny. u go to get trini food and she admits shes looking for a new place that doesnt have memories of her ex. u and her rent a place in the hamptons from airbnb w evelyn and Ty.

someone takes pics of u guys at the beach and evelyns like yeah ur on pinterest under boho chic ?? ur like wtf thats just me in sweats

amelias texts u and is like lol at my gremlin friend unwittingly becoming a girl on the moodboards

36. u zara, june, anton and jakob hang out. u go bar hopping and end the night doing karaoke.

37. u, jenny and Ty go apple picking. jenny found a new place. shes moving in w Evelyn. u make apple pie and watch over the garden wall while drinking hard cider. (early september)

38. timothee comes back and hes like here for two weeks before doing another project and u two try and find a place together. u fail bc of the small window of time and hes like okay new plan face time me and u figure it out?

39. ur soul hurts bc all the places he likes r like 5k. and hes like okay lets do the math. break down our contribution in percentage. and u finally find a place.

40. u go visit him in LA where preproduction is happening. u two take a day to go visit ur family which leaves u Sick of airports.

41. u and timothee hang out in ur new place. c all the boxes and immedietly decide having sex is better than unpacking.

END

#the trashpile #Timothee Chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #influencer lite

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lovelyladyraven · 3 years

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Hawks headcanon: Jealousy AU

TW: unwanted advances, creepy asshole

Being in love with the Pro Hero Hawks had its perks and ,very few drawbacks, one of those perks was being able to inviting your sweet boyfriend out to events with you. This time you invite Hawks to a semi formal work event held by your bosses in appreciating to their employees. Everyone so far has been very professional with him. No one had crowded him or overwhelmed him. They patiently waited until we did our rounds with everyone I personally knew.

Your bosses and coworkers loved him. He had a certain way with people that just drew them in. An hour in, he excused him self to bring you some food and another flute. He trailed his arm around your waist and ghosted his fingers around the fabric of your waist , “I’ll be back, Little Feather.” He let you go and moved through the crowd to get you something to eat and drink. You stayed chatting with a coworker when an arm slithered across your shoulders. You’d know that slimy feeling anywhere. It was *That* coworker. The one who thought he was so hot and Gods gift to men.

You shrug his arm off your shoulder sending shivers down your spine as his arm dropped. Goose bumps rose on your bare back. You rose your glass to your lips and turned around. “What do I owe the pleasure? I thought you weren't coming tonight.” You looked around to where Hawks went but couldn't see him inbetween the crowd. “Well aren't you glad to see me? Came here just to say hi to you.” His stupid face carried his stupid smirk and you felt the anger build in you.

“ Awww didn't you miss me, hun?” He moved closer to you trying to move his arm back when you were yanked out of the way. “Woah there my love, I got you.” You were pressed against a firm chest, arms wrapped around your waist. You look up in surprise and see Kegio’s face looking down at you. He smiled warmly at you but there was a glint in his eye. Something with an edge.

He pressed you closer to him cuddling into you, snuggling his face into yours. Your heart filled with love and you couldn't help but snuggle back in happiness “I'm sorry Little Bird did I take too long? I brought you something to eat.” You thanked him and stayed in his arms while plopping a grape happily in your mouth. He raised a finger to caress your cheek and hmmed in happiness. “How’s my beautiful girl? Did you miss me for long?” He cheekily smiled at you pulling an exasperated sigh out of you. You rolled your eyes at him, “Mmmm idk but I missed these grapes.” He pulled away form you, “Gasp! This just means I have to give you more of my love!” He pulled you closer to him winning a giggle from you.

“Umm excuse me. We were having a conversation here!” The creep was still there body squared with his chest puffed out. “Is this asshole bothering you, hun?” Hawks body went stiff and his smile dropped. He looked at his general direction looked him up and down scoffing. “Anyways babe, since it looks like you weren't with anyone important lets go talk to your work bestie I saw her earlier with her boyfriend. I was talking to them about double dating.” He pulled away to stand next to you, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you from the unwanted man near you. You were so excited talking to Hawks about the possible double date. You never even noticed the wicked bone chilling glare he sent to the other man.

You know its funny you never did hear from him again.

#mha #mha fluff #mha headcanons #mha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks fluff #hawks headcanons #bhna #bhna fluff #bhna headcanons #takami keigo x reader #keigo headcanons #keigo takami #keigo fluff #bhna hawks

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blownbybakugou · 3 years

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Office Hours

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x Reader

warnings: CEO!Shouto AU, FEM! Anatomy, breeding kink, hair pulling, oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, slight voyeurism.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/n: Took me all day to write, I even pulled an all nighter because the ideas were swarming inside of my head. So I was just chilling at two am with Rick and Morty on, typing away. Probably disturbing my neighbors and my roommate, but whatever.

This day had been mildly annoying. Your new coworker had claimed to have been sleeping with your boss, saying she would have you fired by giving him a blowjob, and then continued to shred the paperwork you had worked on all week. You were in near tears from the stressful events of this week, and everyone, including the bitch could see that if anything else went wrong, you would snap. You could clearly hear the annoying pitter-patter of the horrid woman's shoes against the black marble heading towards your cubicle, making you groan in exasperation. "What do you want, Neca?" You sigh, your bloodshot eyes glaring at her smug face. "I have to leave early, so you'll have my work" Your eye twitched. The audacity this lady had was getting on your last nerve. "I'm not doing your work after you shredded mine, especially if you'll get the credit. Now leave. I'm trying to finish my work so I can go home." You look back down to your work, but your head is suddenly yanked back up by your hair. "Go home to what, exactly? You're single, you have no kids and no pets. You can put in the extra hours, and you don't need the extra money. So stop being a bitch, and get over it. I have a date with the boss, so I'll be leaving now" Neca slams down a fresh stack of papers for you to revise and categorize and walks over to the elevator, leaving you here to deal with her work. You looked at the clock on your desk, seeing that in only two hours it would be midnight. Era, too late for you to be at work. You yawn and take your pencil back in your hand to begin your reviewing, already dreading the outcome of this night.

At around 11:30, you got up to go to the breakroom for a new cup of coffee, and you swore you could feel your eyebags darkening by the second. Everyone had left at about 11:00, which left you here completely by yourself. Even the janitor had checked out for the night, handing you the building keys and telling you to lock up when you go home. You take a big swig of the luke-warm beverage, praying to the gods that you would finish your work faster so you could get some sleep. You look out the break-room window at the 12-inch stack of documents you had to look over, realizing you'd be lucky if you got to leave at 3:00. You gulp down half of the coffee, toss the empty disposable cup into the trash bin, and tread back to your personal hellhole. You were concentrating as hard as you could, but even when you were zoned out, you could clearly hear the sound of the elevator going up, and stopping at your floor. Your eyes widen, looking over to the clock that read 1:00 am and then trying to think of who would be here this late but only came up with fear and panic. You shake wildly as you watch the polished silver doors slide open slowly, and then you see the expensive leather shoes step out. Your breath hitched. You were somehow more afraid than before, seeing your boss look over to you, and begin to walk over. He stopped in front of your chair, looking down on you with suspicion and confusion in his eyes. "What are you doing here so late, L/n?" Your throat quickly becomes dry, making it harder to speak. "I, um, p-paperwork." You attempt to explain, pointing to the now 10-inch tall pile with a quivering finger. "I didn't give you that much, who's work is that?" His deep voice asked. "Neca's, Mr. Todoroki. She said you guys had a date and asked me to finish up her paperwork. I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you." You explain, regaining your once lost composure. "We did not have a date. What happened here, is that she played you." Your brows furrow in frustration. So the hours you put in were for absolutely nothing? The fear of getting fired, the times she left because of the 'bosses demands', were all fake? "I...I'll finish it anyway, Mr. Todoroki. I promise I won't take too long." You mumble, turning back to the documents with clenched teeth. "No, I will call her right now. If she is going to rearrange your sleep schedule, I will rearrange hers." our heart warms at his kindness, as you thank him for his generosity. Todoroki pulls out an expensive-looking phone, scrolling for a while before holding it out, and putting it on speaker. On the second ring, Neca picks up. "Yes, Mr.Todoroki? Do you need me to come over or...?" She seemed insistent on wanting to come over to his home, but your boss shuts her down rapidly. "No. After many, many complaints and reports from the other employees, it has come to my attention that you have been passing your work onto Y/n L/n, as well as destroying the companies sacred files. I have called to confirm these suspicions." You both could hear shuffling on the other end on the line, and then you heard the buttered up voice speak. "Did Y/n tell you this? I didn't want you to find out this way, but Y/n has been skipping out on work and burning the company files. I didn't tell you because Y/n is such a dear friend to me and I didn't want her to get fired." Her obnoxiously fake sympathetic voice made you want to gag in disgust. The faux voice was way too sweet for her contrasting personality and the word 'friends' left a bitter taste in your mouth. "Oh? Well, if that's true then I have some interesting news. I'm at the office right now, looking at Y/n who has an 11-inch stack of papers that I certainly did not give to her. And by looking at one of the documents," Todoroki picks up one of the stapled worksheets and flips through it briefly before continuing. "These look like the oriented reference materials I asked you to finish before you left. Now, if you do not come to the office right now to complete your and Y/n's workload, I will fire you, and ruin all future opportunities for you to get a job. Am I clear?" The line goes silent, but then you hear a light sobbing sound accompanying a meek 'yes, boss'. He hung up and then gestured you into his workroom, silently closing the door behind him. "L/n, how long has this been going on for?" Todoroki asked calmly, sitting down in his exquisite black leather chair. "A week after she came here, sir." When you added the sir on the end, he seemed to flinch, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "I see. Why didn't you inform me of this?" You take notice of how he had crossed his legs. It was almost as if he were trying to hide something from you, and that fact made you internally grin. "She said she was your lover, sir, and I didn't want to be fired for claiming against her." The CEO glares at you, warning you to not step further into this. "I can happily say that we are not in a relationship, nor are we participating in any...fun, activities." A playful glint flashes in your captivating orbs, seizing the boss's attention. "I am glad to hear that sir. Shall I take my leave then?" Todoroki's jaw stiffens, and his eyes darken. "Only if you want to. But I believe it to be bad to drive when tired, you could always sleep here, for convenience reasons." You wanted to agree. But you knew that Neca would arrive here shortly, and if you slept here, she would surely do something to get back at your tattling. "I'm not very tired, sir." You remark, standing to make an emphasis. Todoroki stands as well, showing off his delicious-looking bulge forming in his black slacks. "Oh really?" He walks around his desk, eyeing you like a predator would its prey. "Is there a problem, sir?" You ask, a smirk present in your expression. "No, but I think that I'll have to make you tired. You know, for convenience reasons." His face was a mere inch from yours, his breath gently fanning your face. He finally took initiative and grabbed the back of your neck to bring you into an electrifying kiss that made every nerve in your body tingle. You were swiftly flipped around and sat on his desk, your legs wrapped around his torso as he hungrily forced his tongue onto yours. They slid across each other in unison, sending hot flashes throughout both of your bodies at the amazing contact. "Mr.Todoroki, Neca will-" "What happened to sir?" Todoroki purred, sliding his warm hands up your blouse and playing with the hem of your bra. You start softly panting as they glide to your back, fiddling with the clasp. "S-Sir, Neca will be here any min-" "Stop being a brat, I'll deal with her when she gets here. But I think you should deal with the problem you made." Todoroki unbuttons his trousers, stripping himself of them before placing your hand on his clothed cock. "Why don't you get to work, and I might reward you with a bonus." You pushed down his black boxers, almost drooling when you see the length and girth of his dick. It was almost unreal, it couldn't be. He was huge and heavy. Even with him being fully erect his cock drooped and hung right above your mouth. You were starting to even wonder if he could fit inside of you. Todoroki was staring at you expectantly, so you carefully lifted your chin to take the head into your mouth and looked up at him with big, doe eyes. A subtle grunt is produced from your actions and you decide to take it a step further. You guide his dick down your throat, feeling his width stretch out the walls of your windpipe and block your source of oxygen. You pull back, watching as strings of your salvia extend from his cock to your mouth, a low groan emitting from your boss at the sight. You take him back in, this time moaning around him for added effect and enjoying how his hands thread their way into your hair a glide you along his impressive dick. It was then that you began to hear the familiar sound of the elevator opening, and the annoying pitter-patter of shoes you have learned to hate. It seemed that Todoroki heard it too, but he only pushed you down deeper and leered at the way you gagged and squirmed. The clicking of Neca's shoes came to a halt as she shoved the door open with such haste you were surprised it didn't break. "Mr. Todoroki, please forgive me, I promise it won't happen again-" Your watery eyes open to give her a petty glare, releasing another moan around your boss so she could watch the way his eyes roll back in pure and utter pleasure at the vibrations you gave off. Neca's face turned a bright red at your bold decision and let out a high-pitched huff of anger. The irony of this situation was so satisfying. You flipped her off, making her storm out of the room, still enraged. That was until your boss yelled something to her "Neca, you still have to finish the documents you passed onto Y/n." You got no response, but you honestly didn't care at this point. She could hear you guys going at it like animals if she wanted to, but as far as you're concerned, she doesn't exist. You were yanked up and you look down to see that his cock was completely covered in your spit. "I think you deserve a reward, baby." You were forced onto the desk chest first, your skirt flipping up making your panties on display for him to see. "I bet you have the cutest little cunt under these thin panties." He pressed two fingers against the damp fabric, swiping against your clothed slit before getting fed up and tearing them off. Todoroki kneeled, blowing cool air onto your soaked pussy and watching as you try to push your hips back onto his face. Your hole was clenching around nothing and it was practically driving Shouto against the wall. He got back up, stroking himself a few times before poking at your hole with his tip. He leaned his head into your ear with his chest pressed against your back, his breath making your heart race faster. "I'm going to fucking ruin you." He pushed himself in halfway, rocking his hips in a steady motion and chuckling at your small pathetic moans. "I'm not even all the way in and you're whining. Do you even want my dick?" You nod vigorously, trying to move backward to sheath the rest into your weeping cunt. "You want it all in? Use your words, pretty girl." He prolongs his movements and observes that way you try to fuck yourself on his cock, your orbs starting to form more tears from the lack of stimulation. "Please sir, I want to be stuffed full by your big cock." You whimper, letting his hand grasp at your strands of hair once more. Growling, he shoves the rest of his awaiting member inside of you, basking in the way your walls fluttered and twitched from the intrusion. "Good girl. Now let me use you the way I want to, little thing." He starts rapidly pounding into you, with your poor cervix being mercilessly rammed against in the process. "How's it feel getting railed like this, huh? You know, I could really use an heir to the company." Your pants began to mix with your moans, and you could tell your orgasm was coming on strong. You couldn't even warn Todoroki because right as you were about to tell him, you felt him nudge that special spot that made you see stars. And after that, you had no choice but to release. You expected Shouto to pause and let you rest after that intense orgasm, but he fucked you through your release and yanked on your hair harder, overstimulating you easily. "S-S-Shouto." You stammered, feeling his dick pulsate inside of you. Todoroki started pistoning his hips into yours at a more brutal pace, seeing you come undone for the second time. "I'm gonna fuck you full of my cum, and you're gonna be my pretty little girlfriend. How's that sound?" A gurgled yes left your mouth, too far gone to even properly validate his question. A loud groan echoed through the room as spurts of your boss's hot semen shot into your unprotected womb with full intention of getting you pregnant. You lie there, panting for a while before he picks you up, and sets you on the small leather couch in the corner. "I promise that Neca will no longer bother you. And that you and our child will have the best luxuries in the world." He murmurs, lying down in front of you and petting your moist hair. "I'm glad this happened, Shouto." He chuckled. "Yeah. Me too." The dreaded sound of the elevator returned, and this time, you could hear many voices chatting. You look over at your newfound lover's desk to read the time. 5:00 am. Also known as, office hours.

#todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #todoroki #bnha todoroki #todoroki headcanons #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #todoroki imagine #shouto x reader #shouto x you #bnha shouto #shouto fluff #shouto headcanons #shouto x y/n

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ilovefandoms102 · 4 years

Text

Part 10- Shape of My Heart*

Pairing: Rudy Pankow x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Falling in love with someone you can never have is the worst feeling in the world...

Taglist:

@jeyramarie @drewswannabegirl @sexualparkour @teamnick @jiaraendgame @agirlwholovescoffee @outerbongs @jaxxandcomet @velyssaraptor @baby-pogue @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @must-be-a-weasley-92 @kaitieskidmore1 @ma10427 @ifilwtmfc @lasnaro @justcallmesams @judayyyw @lonely-kermit @gviosca @iamaunicorn4704 @jellyfishbeansontoast @fernweh-fangirl @runway-to-my-aid @eb15 @hurricane-abigail @tangledinsparkles @fandom-phaser @sunwardsss @http-cherries @bibliophilewednesday @evaporatedrosepetals @thetomatosaucee @tomatosauceagent @redosmo @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @obx-direction-sos @mxltifandoms06

Part 9 Part 11

Note: Thank you all so much for the comments, reblogs, and submissions! I appreciate every single one of them! It makes me so happy to see them and knowing that you guys love this as much as I do! I have a lot planned for this story so stay tuned!

===============================

I frowned as soon as my alarm went off....

Rudy groaned loudly, rolling over to snuggle into me. I breathed in deeply, stretching my arms and legs. I threw my arms around his neck, kissing the top of his head. He cracked open his eyes, pouting at me. I pouted as well, not wanting to leave him or his comfy bed. I huffed as my alarm went off again, turning to silence it.

“I don’t want you to go.” he whined, his deep morning voice sending chills down my spine.

“I wish I didn’t have to, but as soon as I can I’ll be back or you can come see me.” I smiled softly.

He crawled on top of me, leaning to crush his lips to mine in a bruising, searing kiss. My hands flew to his hair, my fingers weaving into his messy blonde locks. Rudy moved his kisses down my neck, trailing his hand down my naked form. I gasped quietly when his fingers met my heat, and I had to admit I was a sore from last night.

I moved my hand to feel his hardness, marveled at the silky smooth skin. He entered his fingers into me, using his thumb to spread the wetness around. I squeezed his member, moving my hand slightly. I brought my thumb back up to rub the seed that had slipped out for lubrication so I could move my hand better, a choked moan leaving Rudy’s lips.

I whined when he began to move his fingers faster, my hand trying to copy his pace. He stopped suddenly, moving to enter me with his hardness. We both groaned at the feeling, his lips coming back to meet mine. He moved slowly at first, sensually moving in and out. I hummed lightly, my hands smoothing down his sides.

He picked up his pace, slamming into me. I threw my head back as I moaned loudly, my nails digging into his sides. I wrapped my legs around him, causing him to hit that spot he did last night. I cursed loudly, Rudy’s head coming to my neck. He hummed in my ear, whispering filthy things that turned me on even more.

“You like it babygirl? Hmmm, you like feeling me inside of you?” he panted.

“Yes, so good.” I whined, smiling as my eyes closed.

“Fuck, you feel amazing.” he groaned, his fingers digging into my hips.

“You do too handsome,” I gasped.

He moved up on his hands, changing his angle to pound inside of me. A squeal flew out of my lips, my hands coming to grip his forearms. He threw his head back, letting out a loud moan into the room. I stared in awe as his muscles began to flex harder, the veins popping in his neck. He moved one hand to rub me mercilessly, I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

“Scream my name baby, I want to hear who’s making you feel this way.” he grunted, burying himself to the hilt as he rammed his hips into mine.

“Oh my,” I choked.

I let out my scream, his name babbling from my lips. I didn’t think it was ever possible to feel this good, it made me want more. My whole body started to shake, my muscles twitching of their own accord. I gasped his name a few more times before the coil broke, my orgasm hitting me like a ton of bricks. I scratched down his abs, red welts coming to the surface. My back arched up from the bed, Rudy’s head moved to take one of my nipples in his mouth, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin.

Rudy stilled inside of me moments later, spilling his seed into me. He watched himself pull out of me, seeing the mix of his and my cum falling onto my thighs and the sheets.

====================================

We arrived at the airport, my heart clenching in my chest. I could feel tears surfacing, but I pushed them away. I didn’t want to ugly cry in front of Rudy, it would just make the both of us more upset. Rudy helped me lug my stuff in, waiting in line with me for my boarding pass. We stayed close, my head not leaving his chest as one of his hands stayed on my waist. Neither of us really talked, both of us just smiling sadly if we caught the other’s eye.

Rudy carried my carry on as we met our other friends in front of the security check. Both Maddie’s crushed me into a group hug, their tears falling on my shirt. I pulled away from them, smiling at them.

“You guys are acting like you won’t ever see me again.” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s gonna be weird not seeing you everyday kiddo.” Chase sighed, pulling me into a side hug.

“I’m sure y’all are glad to get me out of your hair.” I joked.

“Don’t say that!” Maddie C huffed, throwing her arms around me again.

“I think we’ll have to come see your place when we can.” JD smiled, taking me into a bear hug.

“There’s not much to do where I live, but I’m sure we could stir up some trouble.” I smirked, all of us laughing.

“Well we better get going, be safe y/n. We’ll make plans for a visit!” Maddie B called, walking away with the rest of our friends. We all exchanged goodbyes, leaving just Rudy and I.

Rudy sat my bag down, taking me in his arms. One look in his eyes and I started to ball like a baby, clutching at his shirt. I loved seeing his handsome face, hearing his laugh, his goofy faces, the adoration in his eyes when he looked at me, our jam sessions, his stunning blue eyes...I...I loved him. It may be too soon to think so, but I don’t care.

“You’re breaking my heart baby,” Rudy mumbled, kissing the side of my neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m being a baby.” I blubbered, pulling back to look at him.

“First weekend you’re off, I’m coming to see you.” he promised, wiping my tears with his shirt.

“I wish you could come with me now, or that I could stay.” I sniffled.

“I know, but like you said, we still have your spring break. Then it’s summer and you’re all mine.” he grinned, planting a kiss to my lips.

I held his face to mine, savoring the taste of him. I didn’t care that people were watching, or that there might be paparazzi having a hay day taking pictures od us. It felt like it was just him and I, like we were on top of the world. We pulled away, leaning our foreheads together.

“Better get going, security takes a while and I don’t want you to miss your plane.” he spoke, handing me my carry on.

“I don’t want to say good bye, it seems too permanent. So, I guess I’ll see you later.” I spoke.

“I’ll see you later sweetheart.” he whispered, kissing my lips one last time.

===================================

My life became so frustrating the moment I stepped off that fucking plane. I was bombarded with work from school, my boss refused to cut my hours, and I barely had anytime to talk to my friends and Rudy. I was on the verge of a breakdown.

My very first assignment in one of my classes was a fucking five page paper with eight sources that couldn’t come from the millions of articles the Professor had given us to read. I wanted to pull my hair out, it was all becoming too much.

Rudy was such an angel, he didn’t get angry or upset that we couldn’t talk as much. He understood that I was busy as so was he. He sent me little gifts every other day, from flowers to a book he thought I would like. He was the best boyfriend and I was so lucky to have someone like him in my life. He was my rock, my shoulder to lean on.

I was currently huddled in my room, papers strewn everywhere. I was trying to get an assignment done when my boss kept blowing up my phone. He said that they were short staffed and that he needed me to come in. However, he only wanted me to come in so he didn’t have to.

It was ridiculous honestly, but I continued to ignore the calls and texts. I had too much due within the next few days to stop and go to work. It wasn’t until I saw a text from my coworker who is pretty much my only friend here that I broke down.

I hear our assistant manager talking to the boss about finding a reason to write you up, I guess to scare you into doing whatever they want.

“For fucks sake!” I screeched, throwing my papers down harshly.

I couldn’t stop the tears from gushing down my face, wracking sobs leaving my lips. My phone started to ring, I picked up immediately when I saw Rudy’s came appear. I couldn’t even say hi because of how hard I was crying.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Baby talk to me, what’s happening?!” Rudy exclaimed.

“Sorry I just...I’m so tired Ru. I hate my fucking job, and I have so much work to do. I feel like everything is falling apart and I don’t know what to do.” I sobbed.

“What happened?” he asked again.

“My coworker said that they are trying to find a way to write me up because I wouldn’t come in to cover a shift. I’m up to my neck in class work and I told them that I could not work this much because of my capstone classes.” I sniffled.

“You need to quit, that’s so fucked up y/n.” he spoke.

“I can’t quit Rudy I have bills to pay.” I sighed.

“What bills do you have?” he inquired, I didn’t like where this was going.

“It doesn’t matter, I just need to get another job. I’m sorry for worrying you.” I mumbled.

“Well I called because I wanted to tell you something.” he sighed.

“I hope it’s something good.” I chuckled.

“Um, yes and no? I...I got offered to start on this short film, so I won’t be able to come this weekend.” he said nervously.

“Honey that’s awesome! I have a shit ton to do so we wouldn’t have been able to do much.” I shrugged, forgetting he can’t see me.

“I still would have liked to spend time with you.” he mumbled.

“We’ll work something out, but I do miss your face.” I giggled.

“I miss you so much baby, you have no idea.” he groaned.

“It feels weird not having you sleep next to me.” I pouted.

“You’re a good cuddle buddy when you aren’t taking up the whole bed.” he teased.

“Excuse you, that is definitely YOU that hogs the bed sir.” I griped.

“Ooooh sir, I like it.” he purred.

“You’re gross,” I laughed.

“You love it.” he commented, I could imagine his little smirk on his lips.

“I guess so or I wouldn’t be getting all these messages from your fans about how I ‘stole their husband’.” I quoted.

“They’ll get over it, they aren’t true fans if they can’t see how happy I am.” he said.

“Are you really happy though?” I questioned.

“Of course I am, I landed the woman of my dreams. What more could I ask for?” he scoffed.

“A model, I don’t know.” I mumbled.

“Stop it, you know how I feel about you. That’s not going to change, probably ever.” he claimed.

“Ever? I don’t know if I can put up with you for that long.” I teased, a chuckle coming from Rudy.

“You’re hot as fuck baby, and all mine. You are stunning just the way you are, now no more talking bad about yourself ok?” he reassured.

“Ok,” I whispered.

“I’ll let you get back to work, call me tomorrow.” he sighed.

“Alright honey, bye.” I said.

“Bye baby.” he murmured, hanging up.

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hookedonapirate · 4 years

Text

Summary: The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son.

Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle and a questionable past.

The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type.

Oh, and apparently their taste in women.

Or rather, one woman.

Feisty.

Blonde.

Gorgeous.

Green-eyed Goddess.

Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother—the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she’s dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse…

Until Liam dies in a tragic motorcycle accident.

Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart.

Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces.

Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further into the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby.

Notes: So I made this post on Tumblr the other day, and then this fic happened. If you haven't seen the tags, please read them before starting this story or becoming invested because it’s very angsty. First of all, this starts out as Swan Jewel? I don't know what their ship name is or if there is an official name, but yes, Liam and Emma are in a relationship in the beginning, and I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. If you're not comfortable with that, I highly encourage you to hit the back button.

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for looking it over!

This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox, and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I’ve wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it’s one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write my own take. Also, I made this post about a Baby Yodarita drink last year when it was trending and since the beginning of this story starts one year prior, 2019 and since Killian is a bartender, it was a perfect way to include the prompt.

The title comes from the lyrics of the song, Lay By Me by Ruben. The particular line goes like this:

"I hope you know through the rising tide That I'll be here and you can lay by my side"

If you've never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. It's an amazing song and very fitting for this story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFJbLzEtoZw

P.S. In case you're unable to read the shoulder tattoo in the picture above and are wondering what it says—

"There is no happiness without tears

No life without death

And no true love without heartbreak"

Rated: Explicit for smut (including sexual fantasies, masturbation, implied and detailed sex, etc.) and language (lots of F-bombs).

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

Chapter 1

“Late again?” Liam chides when Ruby waltzes into work as if everything is completely normal. As if she’s not an hour late for her shift.

For the third time that week.

She gives him an apologetic smile, but Killian knows she’s not actually sorry.

He’s just wondering who she was with this time.

“Won't happen again, boss.”

“Damn right it won’t. This is your third warning. Next time, there will be a write-up,” he admonishes.

Frustration creases her forehead. “Geez, would you just chill? My car broke down.”

Liam crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. “So, you mean to tell me your car has broken down three times this week?” he asks, holding up three fingers. “And on either of these occasions, you couldn’t pick up the phone and give me a heads up? Did your phone break, too?”

She flashes him a look as though the answer to his question is obvious. “I told you my car’s a piece of junk. And I tried to call, but no one answered.”

Killian fights off a laugh, knowing for a fact Ruby is bluffing. At least about calling tonight, since the phone hadn’t rung in the past hour. But he could easily check to see if she’d called on the other two days on the bar phone’s caller i.d. to find out for sure if he really wanted to.

“So get a new car. Don’t you make enough from your tips and the hourly wage I pay you?”

“I make enough from my tips,” she replies with a sarcastic smirk, “but I have more important things to buy.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Like what? More six-inch heels, low-cut tops and short skirts?”

Ruby lets out an exasperated sigh. “How do you think I get good tips—by dressing like a Catholic schoolgirl?” She twists her lips and presses the back of her long, red-painted fingernail to her chin, pondering her own words for a second. “On second thought, that actually might bring in even more tips. Besides, you should be paying for my work clothes. Maybe then I could afford a new car.”

Liam scoffs. “You want me to pay for your outfits?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

Ruby's eyes widen, as though she’s shocked he declined her request. “Why not? Can’t you claim them as a work expense?”

He nods. “Alright, fine. But if I’m paying for your work attire, then I’m choosing what you wear. Sound good to you?” he asks, knowing damn well she’ll never go for it.

Unsurprisingly, she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I ain’t wearing no damn polo shirt and black slacks. I like my low-cut tops and short skirts, thank you very much.”

Liam sighs and cups his forehead in his hand to indicate she’s giving him a headache as he turns around and walks toward his office. “Just get to work, Ruby.”

She wraps her apron around her waist and mimics his words in a mocking tone, “Just get to work, Ruby.”

“I heard that!” Liam hollers.

“I could be already serving customers if it weren’t for my pain in the ass boss riding me every two goddamn seconds!” she shouts, hoping he heard that too.

Killian chuckles to himself as he rings up a customer for his drinks and hands him the change.

“That dude seriously needs to get laid,” Ruby huffs. “Maybe then he’d back off a little.”

“Ha! I doubt it,” Killian comments before taking another drink order.

Ruby heads to the dining area to wait on customers. She knows Killian’s not wrong to doubt Liam’s ability to show a little mercy. He’s worked for his brother for two years, longer than anyone has ever been able to stand working for him, and he’s never once seen Liam be lenient, not even to his own brother. He runs a tight ship, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing. Liam has owned this bar for five years and takes his job very seriously.

Killian’s just glad he only has to work here for another six months. Or at least that’s the plan. He’s about to graduate from Storybrooke University and get his degree in engineering. As much as he enjoys working for his brother, or rather listening to his coworkers complain about his brother behind Liam’s back, he doesn’t plan on spending his entire life making drinks.

Liam emerges from his office an hour later and announces he has to take off for a while to run some errands. Killian’s confused because this is Liam’s night to manage the bar. He dedicates the majority of his other time performing administrative tasks during the week.

“What errands do you have to run on a Friday night?” Killian asks, his words laced with suspicion.

“Just some errands I promised someone I’d take care of. You’re in charge while I’m gone.” He pulls on his jacket and leaves Killian behind the bar with a confused expression on his face, wondering what his brother is up to.

Killian brushes off the thought, deciding to further question him later.

Liam heads out the door, but not before scolding Ruby for sitting down at a table full of rowdy men, chatting (and not about the menu). She may be into women, but she flirts with customers regardless of their gender for the tips.

Ruby curses under her breath and gets up, moving to her next table to jot down orders.

~*~

Emma sighs as Mary Margaret grabs her hand and pulls her into The Captain's Rum. Or more like, drags her in kicking and screaming. She doesn’t wish to be at this bar any more than she wanted to be at the last two. But her sister-in-law insists on the outlandish idea Emma’s going to find Mr. Perfect tonight. Or somehow get over her asshole of an ex-boyfriend after one night of drinking.

And even though it's been two months since she left Neal and his thieving and cheating ass, and as much as she wants to get over him, Emma knows it’s not gonna happen for a while. At least not tonight.

And yet, here she is.

One night of drinking can’t hurt, she supposes. One night of forgetting everything. Of numbing her pain. Or so she keeps telling herself, but that could be the alcohol she’s already imbibed at the other two bars speaking.

“So, how’s it going tonight, Rubes?” Mary Margaret asks the cocktail server once they’re seated at a booth.

Apparently, they know each other.

“Well, no one's tried to manhandle me yet, so it's a start.” The tall brunette with red streaks in her hair leans over the table and murmurs, “Not a great start, but it's a start.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and laughs as she gestures at Emma. “Rubes, this is my sister-in-law, Emma. She just moved here from New York.”

Looking at Emma, Ruby grins and sticks out her hand. “Hi! Nice to meet you!”

Emma gives her a polite smile and shakes her hand. “Likewise.”

When Ruby brings the chips and cheese Mary Margaret ordered, she places them on the table along with two empty plates. Before arriving here, Mary Margaret decided they would put some food in their bellies before they added more alcohol so they wouldn't get too drunk too fast and have to head home early. Well, that was Mary Margaret’s idea at least. Emma would much rather be home in the comfort of her bedroom watching Netflix. Or rather, her brother’s and sister-in-law's guestroom they so graciously let her sleep in until she gets her own place.

“Enjoy, ladies.”

“Sure will,” Mary Margaret beams as Ruby leaves their table. She sips on some water as she scans the bar. Probably for potential suitors she can hook her sister-in-law up with, Emma surmises. “What about him? He's cute,” Mary Margaret remarks, her eyes trained on someone behind her.

Emma looks over her shoulder and arches a brow. “He’s cute if you’re sixteen. He looks way too young.”

“Well, he’s drinking, so he must be at least twenty-one,” Mary Margaret points out.

“He looks sixteen, and sorry, I don’t date children.”

“Emma, he’s not a child, probably a college student. And you act like you’re so old just because you already graduated. You’re twenty-two,” Mary Margaret points out like she’s jealous and wishes to be so young again. But she's only a few years older—the same age as David.

Emma groans. “No, thanks.” Her last boyfriend was immature enough as it was, and he was ten years her senior. “So, tell me, how are you and my brother getting along?” Emma asks, attempting to change the subject and get her sister-in-law to avert her attention from the college boys across the room. “Sick of each other yet?”

Mary Margaret whips her head around and scowls. “Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?”

Emma laughs and raises her hands in defense. “Because I knew it was the only thing that would get your attention.”

Guilt and apology flicker in Mary Margaret’s eyes. “Sorry, Emma.” She lays her palms on the table. “David and I are just worried about you, that’s all.”

Emma sighs, frustration creasing her forehead. “I’m fine, I promise. Neal was an ass, and honestly, him cheating on me was a good thing. I needed the wake-up call, okay? I was blinded by love. But now that we're over, I can move on with my life. That’s why I let you talk me into bar hopping.”

A slow, hopeful smile spreads across her lips. “I know, and I’m so happy you got out of that relationship, Emma. David and I both are.”

Emma laughs. “I know. When I landed on your door stoop, we both had to stop him from driving all the way to New York to kick Neal's ass.”

Mary Margaret nods. “True. He’s very protective of you.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I know. It’s both a blessing and a curse.” She takes a sip of water as she scans the bar. It’s the first time she’s been to The Captain's Rum, and everyone is so unfamiliar to her. New York is a huge place, especially compared to Storybrooke, but in this bar, it feels like she‘s back in New York. She swears everyone in Storybrooke is here.

Ruby returns to their table to sit and chat. And steal some of their chips, double-dipping them in the cheese. Emma fights off the urge to laugh at this as her eyes wander past Ruby’s shoulder.

Huge mistake.

The group at the bar counter disperses, revealing the most gorgeous sight she's ever seen.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

She loses a breath when she sees what she can only describe as a fine specimen.

Good Lord.

Handsome features and such a delicious smile to accompany his perfect face as he chats with a male patron at the bar, she finds herself licking her lips.

“What about him?” Emma manages when she’s able to find the words in her throat.

Mary Margaret’s eyes light up before she even looks to see who Emma is staring so unabashedly at. “Who?!” She and Ruby both turn their heads, their eyes following the path of Emma’s gaze until they land on the target.

“You mean the bartender?” Mary Margaret asks, though, to Emma’s surprise, she doesn’t seem very excited; more like disappointed.

Emma tears her gaze away from the bartender, as much as she doesn’t want to. But she couldn’t breathe when she looked at him and she needed to come up for air. “Yeah, why not?”

“Why not what?” Ruby asks as she looks at Emma, curiosity flashing in her big hazel eyes. “Because if you’re asking ‘why not jump his bones,’ then I can’t think of one good reason.”

“Ruby, don’t encourage her,” Mary Margaret chides with a glare.

Ruby frowns, confusion etched in her features. “Why not?”

“Because… Killian is a player. Emma just broke up with her player of a boyfriend a couple of months ago. She doesn't need another one in her life.”

“Um, excuse me, I’m right here,” Emma groans wryly. “And I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

“She’s not wrong though,” Ruby remarks. “He is a player. But a fucking hot player. Between the two of us, we’ve conquered all the women of Storybrooke.”

Emma lifts a brow. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yep. Probably even some of the same women,” she winks, her words bearing no shame or remorse.

“Ruby, would you stop? Besides, neither of you have conquered me,” Mary Margaret points out with air quotes.

Ruby rolls her eyes. “Of course not. Prince Charming had already parked his car in your garage long ago.” She reverts her eyes to Emma. “If you’re looking for a relationship, he’s definitely not for you…” she leans over toward Emma, speaking softly, “but if you’re looking for a hookup to get over that cheating ex of yours, then he’s absolutely perfect for that. He’ll give you an orgasm sooooo hard, you’ll forget all about that scumbag. Then he’ll do it over and over again until he knows you won’t be able to walk for weeks.” Ruby grins wide. “Hell, you’ll forget your own fucking name for weeks.”

Emma gulps, having to recover from the images Ruby implanted in her mind of the man on the other side of the bar. Once she recovers, she furrows her brows at the conclusions she’s drawn from Ruby’s graphic depictions of what a night with the handsome, dark-haired bartender would be like. “How would you know? Have you two—”

Ruby laughs as though Emma just said the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life. “Oh Gaaaaawwwwd, no! I don’t swing that way, honey,” she says, rising and waving off Emma’s words with a flick of her hand. “But I’ve seen the number Killian’s done on his conquests. People talk, especially the drunk, horny females who enter the bar. Plus, as I said, he’s my competition, so I have to know what he's working with… if you know what I mean,” she says with a wink.

“Yeah, I got it,” Emma groans as Ruby saunters away. Why do all the hot guys have to be players?

It’s just her luck.

Emma turns to catch another look at him.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Dark, wild hair, stubble on his chin and cheeks, and a fantastic body based on what she can see from her vantage point.

“Emma! Don’t even think about it! That man’s trouble and you know David would never approve,” Mary Margaret explains, pulling Emma from her trance.

She turns her head, glaring at her sister-in-law. “David is not my father. And besides, I’m a grown-ass woman! He can’t tell me who I can or cannot date.”

Mary Margaret gives her a motherly look. “I know, sweetie, but this man doesn’t date women, he fucks them and then sends them packing. David only wants to protect you from guys like him.”

“I don’t need his protection, okay? Or yours. I’m perfectly capable of looking out for myself.” Emma stands from her seat, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the alcohol still brewing in her system, or because her sister-law has expressed disapproval from both her and David, making this man seem like a forbidden, sinful dessert she’s dying to get a taste of, even though she’ll pay for it later. But right now she doesn't give a fuck.

She sucks in a breath and strides across the bar, ignoring Mary Margaret’s pleas and warnings.

Her eyes are fixed on him like a magnet. He’s wearing a black v-neck that fits him like a glove and shows off a provocative amount of chest hair, his tight, firm muscles bulging as he wipes down the bar counter. His muscles aren’t inhumanly large, just big enough for her to imagine him picking her up and easily carrying her to his bedroom like she weighs nothing. Emma can feel her panties grow wet just from watching him work.

But even though she doesn’t wish to be told who to be with, she knows she should heed her sister-in-law’s warnings.

What would one night of fun hurt, though? She’s spent too much time holed up in her New York apartment, wallowing in self-pity and heartache after Neal hurt her. She hasn’t been with anyone since then. And maybe she’s not looking to dive into a serious relationship right now. Or ever. Maybe she just wants to blow off some steam. And this man looks like he can handle such a task. She’s more than willing to find out.

Emma approaches the bar and stands in front of him, placing her hands on the counter.

“What can I get you, lass?”

Well, fuck me sideways.

He has a British accent too?

She knows she should run for her life, but before she can talk herself out of it, he looks up from his task, and she feels like her feet are glued to the floor.

Ho-ly hell.

He’s even more gorgeous up close.

His arms are inked with tattoos she so badly wants to trace with her fingers, and his striking blue eyes sparkle as he stares at her, his smile showing off a set of pearly white teeth.

Well shit.

She couldn’t run away if she wanted to.

~*~

Killian had been running back and forth behind the bar for hours, ringing up bar patrons, making drinks and engaging in small talk. It’s a typical Friday night at The Captain’s Rum; the place is normally busy on the weekends, especially since the bar is only a stone’s throw away from the university, and tonight is no exception. It’s crowded and loud, couples are dancing, and the women are scantily clad in either tiny dresses or short tops and skirts. As he’s grabbing beers and making cocktails, the bar continues to fill and grow louder.

He hands off drinks to a couple before moving on to the next customer.

“Hey Jones, can I get two Blue Ribbons?” his good mate, Robin, calls over the blaring music.

Killian chuckles and grabs the desired beers, popping off the caps before handing them over. “Taking it easy tonight?” he asks, leaning against the counter and gripping the edge of it with both hands.

“Aye. Regina doesn’t like the hard stuff. She’s more of a wine person.”

“Ah, I see.” Killian nods; he can definitely see that about Regina. He doesn't want to say this to one of his best mates, but the lass can be a little stuck up and quite bossy at times. She makes Robin happy though, so he keeps his mouth shut.

He chats with him for a few minutes, finally getting a few minutes of reprieve. As Robin heads back to his girlfriend, Killian takes the opportunity to wipe down the bar top. But before he’s finished, someone approaches the counter. His eyes are still trained on his task, but he can’t miss the long blonde hair, pink lace and fantastic cleavage, seeing as the view is directly in front of him. “What can I get you, lass?” he asks, throwing on his most charming grin as he lifts his head.

His smile is cemented on his face the second he looks up.

Killian’s accustomed to seeing pretty women entering his brother’s bar and parading around in clothes that barely cover their essential parts.

Yet nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for the woman standing in front of him on the other side of the bar counter.

No, not woman.

Goddess.

Emerald green eyes, soft pink lips curved into a shy smile, smooth creamy skin, long golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

Good.

God.

She’s breathtaking.

Stunning.

“What would you recommend?” she asks in a teasing tone.

Fuck.

Her voice is that of an angel’s. Pure and sweet and innocent.

She looks like everything he doesn’t deserve but wants every... fucking... part of.

“Uh… I um…” he stutters, scratching nervously behind his ear. He can’t form a cohesive sentence as he looks into those hypnotizing eyes. He wants to get lost in them, drown in them. “What are you… what are you in the mood for, love?” he finally musters, adding another one of his signature grins. “I can make you anything your heart desires.” What he wants to say is, “I can give you anything your heart desires,” but even that may not be true. As gorgeous as she is, he’s afraid he wouldn’t be the man she deserves. He’s never been the guy women like to take home to their parents, anyway. He’s the guy chicks like to have around for a good time before they eventually settle into a serious relationship with Mr. Perfect. He’s definitely no Mr. Perfect, more like a Good Luck Chuck, but at the moment, he feels like he could be fucking Superman for this woman. And he's only exchanged a few words with her so far.

She arches a brow and it’s literally the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed in his life. “Anything?” He senses a challenge in her tone.

“Try me,” he encourages.

She bites her bottom lip in thought.

He lied. Now that’s the most adorable and sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

“What if I said I wanted a Baby Yodarita?”

He arches a brow, very much intrigued. “A Baby Yodarita? Never heard of it.”

She laughs and the sound is music to his ears. “That's because I made up the name. But I figure it would be a green drink that looks like baby Yoda.”

“So, I take it you’re a Star Wars fan?”

“Are you a bartender?”

Just as he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, since he’s behind the bar serving drinks, he catches her drift and flashes a smirk.

Could this woman be any hotter? And yes, as he’s asking this question in his head, he’s picturing Chandler Bing and the way he would say it, emphasizing the word be. Gods, he hates that he knows that about Friends. He hates that he actually likes that show.

“You don't really have to be a Star Wars fan to be a baby Yoda fan though. He's so cute, he's trending on the internet, haven't you seen?”

He chuckles. “Aye, who hasn't?”

She plants her hand on her hip, donning a sultry smirk. “So, are you up for the task, or not?”

He licks his lips and leans over the bar counter, his eyes locked with hers. He wants to ask her if she fell from heaven. Or if he just died and went to heaven. But he has a feeling cheesy lines wouldn't work on a woman like her. “I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific as to what task you’re referring to, love.” But who the fuck is he kidding? There is nothing he could do for her he would consider a task.

Only a pleasure.

Blush paints her cheeks and she leans over, meeting him halfway until her face is mere inches from his. “I have a few in mind… but how ‘bout that drink, first?”

Bloody. Fuck-ing. Hell.

Her voice is a mixture of sweet and seductive. He doesn’t know how she manages to pull off a combination like that. His eyes drop to her lips and he’s seriously considering kissing the holy fuck out of her over the bar counter, audience be damned. He almost groans just thinking about her soft, luscious looking lips pressed against his, but he swallows the sound before it leaves his throat.

He lifts his eyes to hers. “Sit tight, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” she says with a smile and takes a seat on a barstool. “Oh, and a Cosmo for my sister-in-law.”

“Coming right up.” It takes every ounce of strength within him to pull away, but somehow he does.

He has to take slow, deep breaths to peel his mind from the fantasies he’s already having of him and the blonde temptress watching him intently as he prepares her drink.

~*~

Emma snorts. She honestly didn’t think he would actually take her seriously. She was only kidding around. But he took her very seriously and eagerly accepted her challenge. And he did an amazing job.

She stares at the green drink in amusement, impressed, to say the least. He brought it to her in a margarita glass with two lime wedges sticking out like ears. The stem is wrapped in a napkin tied with twine and clearly made to look like Baby Yoda’s coat. And there's a cocktail stick tucked into the twine like a sword.

“Well? How did I do?” he asks, eagerly seeking her answer.

“It's so cute,” she comments honestly. “It looks great, but does it taste as good as it looks?” As she asks that question, she’s looking up into his gorgeous eyes. And she can’t deny she’s wondering the same about him.

Does he taste as good as he looks?

Before she brings the glass to her lips, he puts up a finger to stop her.

“Hold on.” He grabs a toothpick and stabs two cherries, one on each end, before sticking it into the drink, giving the baby Yoda a pair of eyes. “For the finishing touch,” he smirks.

After she stops laughing, she takes a hesitant drink. Once she takes the first sip, her face sours and she blinks a few times as she swallows. “Wow, that’s strong.” She arches her brow, pinning him with an accusatory stare. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

He chuckles. “Aye, isn't that the intention?”

She nods and grins. “This will certainly do the trick.” She rises from the stool and reaches into her back pocket, pulling out her phone case wallet, which holds her phone and money. “How much?” she asks, pulling out some cash.

He waves off her offer. “The drinks are on me,” he says with a wink.

“Are you sure? I don't wanna get you in trouble.”

“Trust me, I won't get in trouble.”

Taking his word for it, she tucks the cash into her wallet. “Thanks for the drinks, Killian.”

He arches a sultry brow, making her heart skip a beat. “So, you’ve heard of me, but I have yet to learn your name?”

She laughs and points at the name embroidered into his shirt. “Yours is right there.”

“Oh, that,” he chuckles, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he peers down and brushes his fingers over the letters. “My boss insists we have our names displayed on our shirts.”

“Well, your boss sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“He is, but I only have to work here for another six months. I’m graduating from SBU in the Spring.”

She nods as a group of people approach the counter beside her. She glances over at them and shifts her gaze back to him, wishing he had more time to chat, but she knows he has to work. “It's Emma,” she makes sure to tell him before the counter becomes too overcrowded. “My name,” she clarifies, in case that wasn't obvious.

“It’s nice to meet you, Emma,” he says sweetly, reaching over to shake her hand. When she slips her palm into his, she can feel the sparks from his touch, but instead of shaking her hand, he brings it to his lips and kisses the back of it.

Oh, God.

This man’s lips on her skin feel like heaven and sin. She has to clench her thighs to stop the throbbing she feels between her legs.

Fuck.

She feels the loss when she pulls her hand away and sees the loss written all over his face. “Well, I should um… I should get back to my sister-in-law,” she stammers after learning how to form words again.

He scratches behind his ear and opens his mouth to speak before closing it again like he’s nervous about something. “Of course, love.”

Emma swallows thickly and lingers a bit, patiently waiting for him to say what’s on his mind.

He must sense she's waiting for him because as she grabs the drinks and starts to back away from the counter, his voice stops her. “Emma?”

Good Lord, she loves the way her name slides off his tongue.

She cocks a brow, hoping he's about to ask for her number. Praying he does. “Yes?”

“I um… can you come back here before you leave? Say in an hour when it slows down a bit? I’d love to chat with you some more,” he says sincerely.

Emma purses her lips like she has to mull over his question. The offer is extremely tempting. But she has something else in mind other than talking. Something involving his hands all over her body and her legs wrapped around his hips as he's plunging into her.

And you know what? Fuck it.

She’s sure whatever he has in mind is exactly what she has in mind. Or at least, close to it. “Sure.”

His eyes widen in excitement and surprise, as though he wasn't actually expecting her to say yes. “Really?”

She flashes him her sexiest grin. “Yeah, why not? I’ll see you in an hour.”

“See you then, love. Enjoy your drink. May the booze be with you.”

She snorts and backs away from the counter, holding up her glass in salute before taking a sip. Their eyes are still locked before she turns around.

As she walks away, she cranes her neck to see him still watching her, even as he's serving other customers. She winks at him and has the pleasure of witnessing that adorable pink blush coloring his cheeks and the smirk on his lips before she faces forward and heads back to Mary Margaret.

She’s not looking forward to the lecture her sister-in-law is about to give her, but honestly, she doesn't care. She's looking forward to returning to the hot bartender, hoping to go back to his bedroom. Or the restroom. Either will do, really. As long as she gets to have him.

After Mary Margaret is done chewing Emma out and reminding her of what a player Killian is, and after she finally realizes Emma is going to do what she wants, regardless of what anyone says, they are able to have some fun.

Ruby keeps the drinks coming, and soon they’re tipsy enough to get up and dance among the crowd of gyrating bodies already on the dance floor. Emma glances over at the counter every now and then, and every other time, she catches Killian staring at her, sending shivers down her spine. And every time he tosses her one of his cheeky smiles, her stomach flutters with butterflies.

Emma's thankful Mary Margaret is plastered enough to let loose and not give her any shit because she has no idea what Mary Margaret would do if Emma told her she's going back to talk to Killian. Though she has a feeling if Mary Margaret were sober, she'd do anything in her power to make sure Emma stayed away from him.

When the time finally comes, they order an Uber, which takes much longer than expected. She helps Mary Margaret into the backseat and tells her she's staying for a bit longer and will catch another Uber when she's ready to leave. She doesn't dare mention Killian's name, or that she plans on leaving with him, for fear Mary Margaret will blabber to her brother. Because then he'll come marching into the bar on his white horse to find his sister with the bartender and embarrass the hell out of her.

Mary Margaret's too drunk and in no shape to talk her out of anything, so Emma’s able to escape, knowing her brother will take care of his wife when she gets home.

Emma quickly shoots David a text to let him know his wife had a few too many drinks and is on her way home in an Uber and that Emma decided to stay a little longer but will be home soon. Which is a lie.

She hopes.

Before the Uber drives away, Emma slips her phone into her pocket before heading back into the bar. She's fifteen minutes late, but it's not like Killian can go anywhere. He’s the bartender.

Once inside, she takes a deep breath and tucks some hair behind her ears, a smile playing along her lips as she makes her way to the bar counter. She has no idea what exactly will happen once she reaches him, but with a face as gorgeous as his, she’s pretty sure she would let him do anything he wanted to.

She’s also pretty sure he could help Emma get over her ex. As they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

As Emma nears the counter and spots Killian, the beaming smile on her face immediately falls flat.

And her heart sinks.

A busty blonde is standing at the bar, her hand running up and down Killian’s arm, her fingers tracing his tattoos. The woman is sitting on a barstool at the opposite side of the counter in a low-cut top that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and a skirt so short and tight it looks like it's been painted on. Killian’s standing in front of her, so his back is to Emma as he gives his full attention to the other blonde. It's almost time for last call, so it's now much quieter in the bar, and she's close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

“What can I get you, love?”

“A Tequila.”

“Tequilas are trouble,” he says matter-of-factly.

She moves in closer, biting her smile. “So am I,” she taunts.

“I’m fully aware,” he replies with a chuckle. He tries to move, probably to make her Tequila, but she grabs his arm, forcing him to stay. Though, forcing is a bit of an overstatement; Killian doesn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. “Would you like a snack, too?”

Mischief dances in her eyes as she licks her lips, ogling him like he’s the snack. “I’m looking at it, honey.”

Emma feels like she's going to be sick.

The woman leans in and bites his ear and then pulls away slightly. “Last weekend was incredible. Can’t stop thinking about having my legs wrapped around you,” she giggles.

Jealousy stabs Emma’s gut and disappointment shoots through her like a lightning bolt, bringing her back to reality.

Mary Margaret and Ruby were totally right.

He’s a player.

Unable to listen to them for another second, Emma spins on her heels and dashes out the door so fast, she almost tramples over some guys heading in at the last minute.

She should’ve listened to the warnings, but she was too blinded by the attraction she felt for Killian.

God, she’s a fucking idiot.

Why does she always fall for the dangerous guys? The ones who are bad for her? Why can’t she just find a nice guy for once? Someone safe. Someone who won’t stomp on her heart and discard it like trash without batting an eye.

She pushes open the door, tears stinging her eyes as she runs outside into the bitter, chilly night, hoping the Uber driver hasn’t taken off yet. But it's wishful thinking because she can't think of a reason why he wouldn't have left by now.

“Ooof.”

The air rushes from her lungs as she slams into a tall, solid mass.

Hands are gripping her arms to keep her from falling as apologies leave her lips. “Sorry.” She looks up at the man towering over her, Emma's eyes connecting with soft blue ones, which are full of apology.

He flashes a warm smile, his lips framed by a light brown scruff.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, lass. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

Shit.

He has an accent too?

What’s with all the accents in this town? She’s noticed a lot of the locals here weren’t actually born here. Or the States. She didn’t realize how much she liked men with foreign accents until tonight.

This man continues to apologize, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. At least not for crashing into her. “I was distracted,” he says with a smirk, giving Emma the impression she was what he was distracted by.

Emma tears herself from the trance she’s in and glances at the side of the road, where the Uber once was. “Shit,” she curses under her breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks in genuine concern.

“Yeah, it’s just… my ride has already left. And I’m too drunk to drive home,” she sighs.

Before the man can respond, his phone chimes from his jacket. “Excuse me,” he says apologetically, pulling out the device. He studies whatever’s on the screen with a worried expression, then looks up at her, his mouth slightly agape.

“Everything okay?” she asks with an arched brow, starting to shiver as a frigid wind sweeps around her.

“Um, yeah.” He glances at his phone again before lifting his gaze. “You wouldn’t happen to be Emma, would you?”

She freezes and just stares at him, not knowing how to answer that. Or rather, why she should answer that.

What the hell?

She's never seen this man before in her life, so how does he know her name?

Her heart pounds and she wants to run, but she's afraid she’s not sober enough for that at the moment. “How do you know my name?”

He appears to be hesitant as he holds up his phone, showing her his screen.

Emma takes it in her hands so she can get a better look.

Her eyes widen when she sees a text from a Nolan.

Nolan, as in her brother? Who else with the last name, Nolan, lives with a Mary Margaret and an Emma?

Nolan: I just received a text from Emma. She sent Mary Margaret home in an Uber and is at your bar. Can you make sure she gets home all right?

Her blood sizzles as she rereads the message. Then she reads the texts before it, a couple in particular sticking out like sore thumbs.

Nolan: So… I have a huge favor to ask.

Me: Sure, what’s up, mate?

Nolan: The wife and sister are going to the Rabbit Hole tonight. Emma just moved here from New York after a terrible break-up and Mary Margaret is determined to hook her up with someone.

Nolan: Think you have time to get away from work and keep an eye on my sister, make sure she doesn’t find any trouble?

What the actual fuck?

Why is her brother having this man spy on her?

Emma turns around and pulls back the hand still holding the phone, about to toss the damn thing.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t shoot the messenger, love,” he pleads. “I need my phone.”

The endearment makes her shiver. Killian had called her love, too.

She spins around to glare at the stranger. “David’s using you to spy on me?” she demands firmly.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to, lass, I promise, but I would’ve felt terrible if I said no and then, later on, found out something bad happened to you. I promise, I was only helping a friend and looking out for you.”

Emma sighs and hands his phone back, knowing he’s telling the truth. She saw his responses to David’s texts and gathered he didn’t wish to put his nose where it didn’t belong or to stir up any trouble. “David always has been good at persuading people,” she grumbles.

“Aye, especially when it comes to protecting the ones he loves,” he winks.

“Even so, he has no business spying on me!” she states louder than intended.

“I wholeheartedly agree,” he states adamantly, making sure to express how much he was against this whole idea, to begin with.

Emma crosses her arms over her chest, wondering how she never saw him at the Rabbit Hole when she was there. “So, you spied on me at the Rabbit Hole?”

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t get the chance to. By the time I got there, you and Mary Margaret were already gone.”

Emma shakes her head and rolls her eyes at the thought of her own brother asking someone to spy on her. But she’s not surprised. “Brothers are so annoying,” she grumbles.

He chuckles, and the deep, hearty sound warms her heart a little, despite the chill in the air. “Agreed.”

She arches her brow, as though to ask him to expand on why.

“I have one of those, too. So I get it.”

Emma’s features soften, a small smile pulling at her lips. “Older or younger?”

“Younger. He can be quite the ponce sometimes, but at the end of the day, I’d lay down my life for him.”

“I usually feel the same about David… and then he goes and pulls something like this,” Emma remarks bitterly.

“I take it he does this a lot?”

“He did when we were younger. But then I moved to New York and he came here, so we didn’t see each other very much.”

“Ah, I see.”

Another gust of wind makes her shiver and has him removing his jacket and offering it to her. Even though she’s already wearing one.

“May I?”

She cocks a brow. “Won’t you be cold?”

He shrugs. “I rarely get cold.”

She gives him a soft nod. He looks like he’d be the type of man who knows how to stay warm, and therefore knows how to keep a woman warm. He has those big, strong arms and broad shoulders, and he’s very tall. She could picture herself being buried in his warmth, but maybe because she's currently freezing her ass off. “Thanks,” she murmurs when he goes behind her and drapes the jacket over her shoulders.

“It’s my pleasure, love.” When he’s standing in front of her again, he sticks out his hand. “The name’s Liam.”

Emma smiles and slips her palm in his.

She was right. He is warm. Very warm. “I think David’s mentioned your name a few times.”

“Probably not as much as he talks about you. In fact, I feel like I already know you,” he chuckles as they break the handshake.

“Hopefully, he had good things to say?” She almost groans at the idea of David spewing a bunch of embarrassing stories about her from when she was a kid.

“Aye. Very good things… well, mostly,” he admits. “But who doesn’t have at least a complaint or two about their siblings?”

She nods in agreement. “True. I complain about him all the time.”

He grins big and wide. “I don’t doubt that.” When his smile fades a little, he scratches his head as he looks at her, hesitant to form the next words he wants to say. “Well, uh… seeing as it’s,” he checks his watch, “almost two o’clock and not getting any warmer out here, how about I give you a ride home?”

Emma twists her lips in thought. Normally she wouldn’t even think twice about rejecting a ride from a stranger, but there’s something about this guy that tells her he’s not a serial killer or rapist. There’s something pure about him, a vast contrast to the bartender inside. That guy screamed danger and sin, but this man standing before her gives off completely different vibes. He has a warm personality, which is very refreshing, and he has honest eyes. Besides, she may not be able to stand her brother and his antics sometimes, but he's always had good taste in friends. And if David trusts Liam enough to keep tabs on his sister, then he must be trustworthy.

So with a feeble smile, she finally answers. “Okay.”

Tagging people who have shown interest. Let me know if you would like to be added. @itsfabianadocarmo @resident-of-storybrooke @onceuponaprincessworld @viajandosinalas @teamhook @captainswan-shipper88 @jamif @katielovesstarcrossedlovers @uhthreeyuh @lfh1226-linda @babyyouremyqueen @sthonour @julesep3026 @fairytalewhispersinmyheart @andiirivera @wefoundloveunderthelight @wickedsw4n @eleveneitherway @eherron14 @ouatpost @transparentclodsludgeweasel

#cs ff #captain swan #liam and emma #swan jewel #forced roommates #minor character death #angst #heartache #pregnancy #healing #through the rising tide #my fic

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yyxgin · 3 years

Note

a lot has happened at work recently!! but who cares bleh. libra season!!! which means bday celebrations!! except i’m at work BOO 👎 and my two assistant managers have officially left (i’m helping them move on wednesday) and they were probably the only two who knew when my bday was apart from my supervisor but he’s gone to a different branch to train to be an assistant manager before coming back so i’m super bummed bc now i have to deal w al the new staff by myself 😭

also one of the ladies in kp read my palms?? and she told me i spend too much money impulsively which isn’t false… but i have to spend money impulsively or if spend none at all (which is good for saving ig) but i’d also be doing nothing other than working and that would make me sad lol. she also told me bc i’m a libra this month i’ll be unlucky with love but lucky with money so 🥺🙏🙏 i was having a relatively bad day that day so she was cheering me up n all of that.

did i tell you when my txt and skz albums came, they also came like a week or two later (again) bc they’d accidentally doubled up my order? it was like heaven with skz bc changbin baby is my ult n he was in some of the pulls for the second album 🥵🥵 the limited edition of no easy confuses me bc it’s not like the last one of theirs i bought and typically groups stick to a style when they design albums like mamamoo are all in these cute magnetic flip box thingies and nct’s are all little books type things as well as txt’s but skz switched it up and there’s a fair bit of loose stuff? but it’s okay bc i have two posters n all of the mini flip card things for the members and some bangchan (i’m gifted in pulling chan).

im also hopefully getting a car?? the barman hasn’t gone to prison yet bc the court keep moving his sentencing date(s?) so when i discussed this w my mum she said they’ll probably throw it out and relief filled me!! but ik i shouldn’t be so hopeful but at the same time it’s like why would you mess someone around so much? anyway i’ll move on, i wanted to drop him home in my car bc he deserves a lift everyday what a sweetheart❣️ my co-worker facetimed me today as it was my day off and i said hi to everyone it was so heartwarming to see everyone missing me but also not bc my manager overworks me and he knows that after this weekend 💉🩸

im jumping about with my points and things i want to say but i’m horrible at internet friends so this is okay for me as recently i’ve just not had energy for any friends which is awful of me but i’m still trying to find the balance between work and social. also everyone’s gone to uni and i’m just chilling. i like my life.

i want to redecorate my room. i don’t like the vibe other than when people compliment my kpop wall bc it’s a bunch of my art and then other peoples art and i thoroughly enjoy decorating w pictures and stickers and stuff but it’s literally just a door and it’s depresses me that my happiness is reduced to the back of a singular door now. i want to redo the vibe in my room and make it more me. i’ve never felt comfortable until recently and even now i’m going back to feeling uncomfy now that i know i want it a certain way and to give a certain vibe. idk, maybe it’s bc i watched sex education and seeing lily’s room in the most recent season (i won’t say much more in case you are watching/haven’t seen it yet) really made me realise i want to love myself and love the space i create for myself more. do you enjoy your space you’ve created for yourself? i always feel like peoples rooms say a lot about them as a person but how they see their room in their own eyes always says more.

i want to ask loads of questions and am awful at asking them so please just tell me everything i missed or should be updated on!! ily, always

~ 🌻

LIBRA SEASON !!! omg did i ask you when's your bday ?? i hope i didn't miss it. >:( happy birthday !!!! you deserve so much love. also, i'm sorry about your managers leaving. dealing with new staff is hella stressful and i hope you don't have to have too much responsibility and nerves <3

ooh palm readings are hella interesting. i've never had one but i think i'd like to try. spending money impulsively isn't a bad thing, if it's not an irresponsible spending. and if it is,, well who cares. yolo. i feel you on that tho, bc even tho i am really stingy w money, sometimes i just buy stuff i don't need and act on impulse.

OMG THAT IS A DREAM ?? getting free albums ?? (at least i hope they were free lmao). i like it when groups stick to one type of packaging although i must say i dont like the book thingies nct uses bc there is no magnetic part so it falls apart on my shelf and i hate that. i acutally like the sleeve packaging txt's albums have ?? everyone seems to bitch abt it on tiktok but i find it the most conveniet. also i'm glad changbin came home to you <3

YAAAY TO THE CAR !! AND ALSO TO YOUR COWORKER. i am praying he won't have to go, then, i am really hopeful. he is a sweet soul and doesn't deserve that. pleeease don't put up with your boss overworking you. take care of yourself :(

YOURE NOT HORRIBLE AT INTERNET FRIENDS we are besties. okay ??? and its totally okay to have no energy for friends as well, bc as you can see, i am struggling as well recently. it took me so long to reply to this ask and i feel so bad but it is what it is :// social battery has been low and i am busy with studying and work and trying to put my shit together. i am rooting for you !! <3

go for the decorating !! i actually haven't watched sex education and am not planning on watching so i dont really understand what you mean, but i hope you get to create a space for yourself when you feel free and comfortable. i share a room with my brother so its kind of difficult to decorate it how i want it, but i honestly like sharing a room tbh. he's not here half the time anyway so it's good to see him at least when we go to sleep lmao. but i have a bunch of stuff in my corner that are kpop and my side is full of plants, so i feel good surrounded by them hihi. i like it here.

i don't have many updates. i am actually living a very boring life, so i have nothing to share. preparing for graduation exams has been making me anxious and also depressed with everything that's been going on lately, but it's okay. i'll pull myself together <3 i love you a lot, take care !! i missed you

#our convos are always so long i love it #missed you sm #sorry for taking ages to reply #💌ask #🌻 anon

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imjusthereforbatfam · 3 years

Text

Never-Ending Encore, ch 8

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Chapter Summary: Yes, this is Gotham City but helping people isn’t a CRIME, Red Hood! Eden’s not afraid of some crazy nutzos! Er, well… Okay, maybe she’s a little afraid of some crazy nutzos, but… But that’s not gonna stop her from helping people when she can! 😤

Warnings: minor swearing, very minor mentions of suic*de and previous suic*dal behavior, very minor mentions of previous abuse, abuse forgiven/excused by victim (which I personally don't care for but this is how Eden currently handles/perceives her trauma so...)

---

Eden sat down at the table with a content sigh. The heavenly aroma of homemade garlic bread was more prominent now that the rolls were right in front of her. The scent, mixed with the expectation of company and the eagerness of having some Mad Mountain Fudge chilling in her fridge, made her feel incredibly at-home. Though, to be fair, it was more of a hope for company than an expectation.

Red Hood said he’d try to come this night or the next, but that didn’t necessarily mean he would. Admittedly, Eden's shier half – which vividly recalled Aaron’s earlier, uh… praises toward Red Hood’s… physique – wouldn’t entirely mind waiting a few days to see him. The rest of her was so excited, though, that she had to keep reminding herself it was okay if he didn’t come tonight. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. He was a busy man, after all, saving dumbasses like herself and doing… whatever an ex-mob boss might do to make a place like Gotham better.

Not that any of that stopped her from hoping he would come, of course. Nor would it stop her from being disappointed if he didn’t. Even so, Eden knew she was just one, very small person among a million other very small people in this city. She understood that visiting a random civilian like her, even with the world's greatest fudge in her fridge, couldn't rank very high on Red Hood’s to-do list. Especially in a city like this, filled with a thousand not-so-very-small people — many of whom were quite dangerous.

Still, taking in her surroundings, Eden couldn’t help but smile. She was excited for him to come visit. The entire one-roomed apartment – not just the kitchen space – was clean now. She was back in the habit of making her bed every morning, and— okay, fine, the chair by her closet still held her not-quite-clean clothes, but at least they were folded now! Which was an improvement from the misshapen pile of before!

The once-crowded coffee table had also been improved. Now, it only housed her laptop, headphones, and one book (and notebook) at a time. The rest of her books and notebooks – aside from the pair she kept on the kitchen table – had a new home, piled neatly along the wall dividing the kitchen from the main living/sleeping space. They still needed a proper shelf, but the current setup worked for now.

Two plants with tall, twisting stems stood guard on either side of her slow-growing book collection, while a small, mismatched assortment of baby foliage in tiny, colorful pots sat along the edge of her kitchen table near the window. It wasn’t anything compared to rows and rows of crops back on the farm, nor the nearby woods she dearly missed walking through, but it still felt good to be around some greenery again.

Biting into a roll, Eden continued penning ideas into the notebook she kept on the kitchen table; new ways to make her place even homier, things that needed her attention, different possibilities to look into. Though it was the mortifying thought of Red Hood coming back to her apartment in its previous state that had spurred her into action, Eden now found herself genuinely starting to enjoy the little space.

Now that she was putting in the effort, her apartment was actually starting to feel… pleasant. Welcoming, even. And even though her neighbors were still ridiculously loud at times, Eden was finding herself happy with her little home. Enjoying the fruits of her labor whenever she paused to take it in... It was a very nice feeling.

Eden suddenly stopped writing. Her heart leapt in excitement as she looked to the far window, the one that led to the fire escape. It could be nothing, but she could’ve sworn she’d heard— The soft tapping repeated itself.

Scrambling up from the table, Eden flew to the window – nearly slipping in her socks – and beamed at the sight of Red Hood on the other side. He greeted her with a short wave of his hand.

“Hi there, Mr. Hood!” she greeted the moment she had the window open. “It’s so nice to see you again! How are you? Your fudge is almost ready, but it needs another couple of minutes or so to finish chilling. I hope that’s alright? I remembered you said you might stop by tonight, but I didn’t think it would be until later on so I— oh! Where are my manners?” She moved out of the way, her cheeks warming. “Won’t you come in?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Eden smiled as he deftly climbed inside, pleased to find she could still easily recognize Red Hood’s humored tone.

“Smells good in here,” he said turning toward the kitchen.

She quirked a brow, glancing at his helmet. “You can smell with that thing on?”

“It has an automatic filtration system." He lifted his chin, apparently quite proud of it. "Keeps Fear Gas out, lets good-smelling food in.”

"Really?” She hummed, making a show of looking over his helmet. “It doesn’t look all that fancy to me, Mr. Hood."

He scoffed. “It’s a lot more high-tech than it looks, Cookie Girl.”

“Oh, yeah?” She turned up her nose, grinning, as she led him toward the kitchen table. “What kind of high-tech stuff does it have, then, hotshot?”

“All kinds,” he said unabashedly, not afraid to meet her teasing head-on. “There’s the obvious, like night vision, thermal imaging, incendiary devices, and high-frequency—”

“Hold on, wait.” She turned the words over in her head. “Incendiary devices? Isn’t that just fancy talk for bombs?"

“It might be,” he said confidently.

"You have a bomb in your helmet?" She made a humored face. “That doesn’t sound very high-tech, Mr. Hood. Or obvious.”

He hummed, leaning forward slightly, resting his hands on his hips. “You don’t believe me?” Eden could imagine him grinning at her.

She crossed her arms playfully. “No way. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me. There’s no way you have an actual bomb that close to your head. You’re not that crazy, Mr. Hood.”

He made an amused sound, tilting his head to one side.

Eden opened her mouth, then shut it. She looked him up and down, faltering. “Are… Are you? Mr. Hood, do you really have— Are you— Please tell me you’re joking. That’s— Do you?”

“Relax, Ede.” He said it comfortably, as if he called her that all the time. Eden blinked, trying to remember if he’d ever called her that before — or anything other than Cookie Girl. “It’s just for absolutely fucked situations where I don’t have any other options.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait— You don’t mean— You don’t mean—” She jabbed at her temples frantically, trying to sputter something out.

Red Hood watched her struggle until what she was trying to say finally clicked.

He jerked forward, his hands up. “Shit, not like that! It’s an escape thing, not a kill myself thing,” he explained. “I take it off and throw it like a grenade.”

“Oh. Cool. Okay. A grenade. That’s cool.”

“Breathe, Cookie Girl," he reminded her.

“I’m breathing! Totally breathing!” She took a huge breath for good measure. Then another. “Sorry, I just—” She shook her head, plopping into her seat. She looked at him, then, in realization, jolted right back up again. “Oh, sorry! Please,” she gestured to the spare chair in front of him, “have a seat.”

“I’m alright.” Red Hood leaned onto its back, watching her sit down again. Her face was red hot. “You okay?”

“Yes, fine, thank you.” She took a few slow breaths, her brows pulled together with worry. “Do you… end up in situations like that a lot? Where you have to blow up your helmet to get away?”

Just a few nights ago, there’d been an explosion on the Westward Bridge. One of her coworkers said a friend spotted Red Hood escaping the scene afterwards. Eden, becoming more accustomed to Gotham’s shenanigans than she cared to admit, hadn’t worried about him too much when she’d heard. In fact, oddly enough, she’d felt a bit proud. But maybe she shouldn’t have.

Maybe she was wrong to have assumed he was okay. Maybe he’d been in serious trouble. Maybe he’d needed help. Maybe she should’ve done something. Maybe she should’ve—

“Not really,” Red Hood answered, breaking her dizzying thoughts with a casual shrug. “It’s the last of my last resorts, and it’s pretty rare for me to be so off my game.”

“Oh. Oh, good. That's...” She sighed in relief, then smiled up at him. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Hood.”

Of course. What in the world was she thinking? Red Hood wasn’t some small-time, stumbling wannabe. Unlike her pitiful attempts at playing hero, he actually knew what he was doing. If she ever showed up to one of his firefights, she’d probably just end up causing him trouble and end up staggering home with a plethora of healing bullet holes and another encore under her belt. (Maybe two, if she was particularly unlucky.)

Red Hood pulled out his chair and turned it so that its back was nearly up against the wall beside them. When he sat down, angled the way he was, he had a clear line of sight of the entire apartment.

The move was familiar to Eden, but it surprised her to see it done so precisely and naturally. The only other person she’d seen do that – and do it like that – was Mama.

Mama always had to have an eye on her surroundings, so she rarely took a seat without her back against a wall or being tucked in a corner. The habit was one of many from her life before "Louanne Smith". They were so far ingrained into her psyche that if she ever tried to go against them the struggle was obvious to even the blindest fool. Though she feigned ignorance at having ever lived such a life, it had obviously taught her all the skills she now used to keep their “cousins” safe: how to observe and analyze even the smallest detail, how to fight and defend unflinchingly, how to disappear without a trace, how to… make other people disappear.

It made Eden curious to see Red Hood with a habit like that. On the bright side, it probably meant she didn’t have to worry about him the way she had been. If he was even half as capable as Mama was, chances were he could handle just about anything thrown at him — even in a place like Gotham.

But… on the not-so-bright side, she had to wonder...

Red Hood tilted his head slowly. “What?”

“Hm?” Eden blinked and realized she been staring. “Oh, sorry! I was just remembering my, uh… um… well, it doesn’t really matter, I guess. I just got lost in thought. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Right, sor— I mean, uh, thank you. I guess.” Cheeks warm, she glanced around quickly for something else to talk about. “Um, would you like some garlic rolls, Mr. Hood?” She picked up the plate and offered it to him. “They’re stuffed with cheese.”

He leaned closer to the food, inhaling it. “So that’s what smells so good.”

She smiled. “Try some!”

He started to grab one when his head turned toward the kitchen. He looked into it a moment then lowered his hand, sat back, and said, “On second thought, I’m okay.”

Eden lowered the plate slightly, surprised. She glanced into her kitchen, wondering what he’d seen to change his mind. The space was perfectly clean and tidy, as she always kept it. The only thing “out of place” was the baking sheet cooling on her stovetop. Any other dishes were already drying in the sink wrack.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind… I’m happy to share.”

“I’m not interested in stealing your dinner. Besides,” he added in a lighter tone, “I need to save room for the fudge.”

Eden nodded slowly and set the plate down. Glancing toward the kitchen again, she wondered what had tipped him off that the rolls were her meal for the night. The empty baking sheet? The drying dishes?

Always have more than you think you’ll need, she remembered. That was a tried-and-true rule on the farm. They never knew when they were going to have company, so there was always more of things than Eden’s family could ever go through on their own — more blankets, more clothes, more toiletries, more food. Especially food. If there were seven people in the house, they made enough food for ten, and those extra servings came in handy more often than not.

“Can I get you something to drink, then, Mr. Hood?” she asked, picked up her pen and writing the old rule into her notebook. “I have sweet tea, orange juice… uh, water…” She paused, thinking. “Milk?”

He snorted. “I’m good.”

She quirked an impish brow. “Does your fancy, high-tech helmet even have a way for you to drink things? Some built-in twisty-straw component or something?”

He shook his head, edging forward. “Nope. Sorry. No twisty-straws.”

“Your helmet can be an emergency grenade, but it has no cool twisty-straw thingy?” She tsk-tsked, trading her pen for a roll. “I’m disappointed, Mr. Hood. It’s like you’re not even trying to impress me.”

He chuckled. “I’ll get right on that, Cookie Girl,” he assured, a smirk-like quality to his voice.

Eden shook her head at him, trying to hide her grin behind the roll.

He nodded to the notebook in front of her. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, just some ideas.” She pushed it toward him, inviting him to look. “I haven’t been treating this place right,” she explained, pulling apart the roll. “Acting like it’s a prison when it’s a home in need of as much tender loving care as any other.”

Red Hood hummed, going over her lists. “Hard to make a home in a neighborhood like this,” he muttered.

“Doesn’t mean I need to let it sit and rot like I was. It’s nice to have a place you’re at least a little proud of.”

He gave a half-shrug and nodded.

He flipped to a previous page in the notebook, glancing up to see if she minded. Eden shrugged, knowing most of the pages were haphazardly filled with everyday nonsense that likely wouldn’t mean much to him. He looked them over while she ate and she looked over him, a little embarrassed when he started reading out random thoughts.

“‘Mary: Superfluous, plain but extra, well-meaning but unaware’?”

“Uh, that’s a… That’s a thing for work.”

“What do you do for work? Evaluate assholes?”

She laughed. “No, no, I’m a…" She fixed her posture, feeling a bit proud. "I’m an actress, actually."

“A professional liar? Great.”

“Wha—? No! Lying and acting are two very different skill sets, Mr. Hood!”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Cookie Girl. Whatever you say.”

“No really! I’ll have you know I’m an awful liar but a really great— er, uh, well, okay, maybe not a really great actor— I mean, maybe not a great actor either, but, you know, I— Well, actually—”

He snickered, then moved on to the next blurb he could tease her with.

“Are all your notebooks filled like this?” he eventually asked, glancing at her collection against the wall.

She gave a half-shrug as she finished the last roll. “Some are more coherent. This one’s mostly for stuff that pops in my head while I’m eating or in the kitchen. It’s easier to have my thoughts written down where I can see them instead of fighting through them all in my head.”

“Makes sense.” He leaned forward brazenly. “Am I in any of those thoughts?”

“Not any of the written down ones,” she said with a laugh, assuming that was the real question. “I’m not that dumb, Mr. Hood.”

“Good to know,” he said with a nod. “Speaking of dumb, though…” He leaned back in his chair and fished out a cell phone from inside his leather jacket. “I was wondering if you could help me connect some dots here.”

“Me? I don’t know what you could possibly need my help sorting out, Mr. Hood," aside from an urgent, impromptu lesson on goat milking perhaps, "but I’ll certainly try.”

“Oh, you can help a lot more than you think, Edie.” Red Hood set the phone down on the table and pushed it toward her.

Eden blinked again at his sudden use of one of her everyday nicknames, suddenly nervous. She looked down at the phone, at the picture on its screen, and her brows lifted in surprise. She immediately recognized the sleek, minimalist decor of Café Très Boissons and the slightly hunched, unassuming man who’d been taking her picture earlier that day. But more than that, she recognized the angle the picture had been taken from.

Turning to Red Hood, wide-eyed, she faintly recalled the faces of the boys in the corner booth. The younger two were obviously out of the running, but between the smiling one and the one in the red hoodie… It wasn’t exactly a hard leap to make.

“Wait, were you the guy—?”

“I have contacts all over this city,” he told her. “They keep me informed.”

Eden’s brow furrowed. She worked her mouth to say something, not really sure she believed him, but he leaned over the table and swiped the screen to the right, moving the conversation forward before she could. The new picture was taken closer to the scout and clearer than the first, better showing his face and overall frame.

“So imagine my surprise,” Red Hood went on, “when I learn a small-time heiress has a look-alike who can clock up a potential threat in a heartbeat, and it turns out that look-alike—” he swiped right again, this time to a grainy, blown-up picture of Eden, Veronica, and Aaron crossing the street “—is you.”

Eden stared at the picture: she and Veronica arm-in-arm, Veronica’s purse over her shoulder, a flippant expression on her face that didn’t seem to fit quite right. The picture was from an entirely different viewpoint, somewhere up in the air looking down on them, and of a far poorer quality than the first two.

“Security camera?” she guessed glancing up at him. His permeating stare was hard to meet through the angry “eyes” of his helmet.

“Traffic cam.”

Eden sank a little lower. “You’re making me feel like I’m in trouble here, Mr. Hood,” she mumbled.

“Aren’t you?” he accused. “You’ve practically got a flashing neon sign on your forehead that says In Deep Shit.”

“No, I—!” She huffed and moved some hair out of her face. “I do not. I meant trouble like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar.”

“Funny.” He moved to rest his jaw on his fist. “I didn’t.”

Eden lowered her gaze, unable to meet the unbreakable scrutiny of his “eyes”. “I’m not in any trouble,” she muttered, rubbing her socked feet together under the table. “Not like that, anyway. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Y’know,” he half-teased, “I think I’m starting to understand what you meant about being able to lie and being able to act.”

She struggled with a response to that. “What… What even makes you think I’m in that kind of trouble anyhow?”

“You want the short list or the long?”

She stared at him. His certainty was unshakable.

There’s no way it was that obvious she was in trouble… But it wasn’t deep trouble like he seemed to think. Just… ankle-deep trouble. That she was slowly sinking in. No big deal.

Besides, it wasn’t any of his business. Her “trouble” was just between her and her parents. And her siblings, sort of. And… probably the people Frank worked with... and for… But, like, at its core, it was mostly just her and her parents.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Nothing vigilante worthy, anyway.”

Red Hood tilted his head, silently encouraging her to continue regardless.

“It’s just… family stuff.”

Just a looming fight between divorced parents; their adult child stuck in the middle and trying to put out the fire before it sparked. A totally normal thing for a totally normal "family".

Only, like… kicked up to a ten because Eden was a metahuman, her father was a superhero-obsessed farmer-turned-geneticist who basically stole samples of her DNA, and her mother was not afraid to get her hands dirty. Especially if she perceived something as a threat to her daughter’s well-being — which Frank’s recent work and actions could definitely be perceived as.

Plus, everyone in that facility seemed to know about her powers. Mama would not like that. That Eden regretted helping them – that she’d tried to rescind her consent, been denied, and her DNA taken anyway – just made the whole thing even messier.

The only way to hide any of it from her mother was to literally take the money Frank gave her for her "donation", run off, and hide away while she tried to string everything together. Because once Mama knew, Frank was a dead man. Unless Eden could figure out some way to cushion the information and keep her from digging deeper, there was no doubt in her mind that Mama would wipe every last trace of him – and his colleagues – off the face of the earth.

And Eden… Eden didn’t want that.

Despite everything he’d done and put her through, despite all the hurt and tears, part of her still thought of Frank as her father. As the man who read her stories every night and taught her to ride a bike and a horse. The one who called her “Champ” and always carried her up on his shoulders when they went into town. Who told her she was meant for great things, encouraged her compassion, always put her back on her feet… told her he loved her every morning and every night when she was young…

They were both older now, and him colder. He’d abused her trust and love in pursuit of his own goals. Again. This time with intent. But he was still the man who, above all else, wanted to help others. Eden knew that. He just… didn’t seem to mind hurting her in the process. And a part of her hated him for it, but she still loved him, too. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting hurt, or worse.

Which, you know, with her mama a hairpin trigger away from… removing him… sorta left Eden caught between a rock and a hard place. But, again, that wasn’t any of Red Hood’s business.

“It’s not that big a deal,” she stressed. “And anyway, Veronica’s the one with the scout right now, not me.” She swiped back to the picture of the man in the suit and pointed to him firmly. “He cared about getting her picture, not mine. Even if he mixed us up, it still means she’s the one in real trouble here.”

Red Hood hummed. The disharmony was hard to interpret, but she was willing to bet he was neither fooled by nor satisfied with her answer.

“What?” she shot back, crossing her arms, acting defensive to force the conversation forward. “It’s not my fault he confused me for Veronica.”

“No, but you wanted to keep him confused. In fact,” he reached over and swiped back to the traffic cam picture, “you did everything you could to make sure he thought he had the right girl.”

Eden lifted her chin, waiting for the real question. Red Hood studied her, possibly waiting to see if she’d answer it herself. Maybe blubber out something as she was wont to do. But she was determined to keep her mouth shut this time.

She tipped her head, politely prompting him to continue. When he didn’t, she huffed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hood,” she said rubbing her forehead, “but I really don’t know what you’re trying to ask me here. I’m not a mind reader.”

He stayed quiet for a few more beats. His consideration shifted from her to the picture on his phone. “For now, I guess my biggest questions are why and how.”

Eden sat up a little. “Why?” she repeated, not sure she understood.

“Yeah. According to my source,” he said slowly, “you two,” he nodded toward her and Aaron in the picture, “figured out the scout was there for Veronica before she’d even entered the building and that he’d mixed the two of you up.”

“Right,” she agreed cautiously. “And?”

“And?” He gestured in front of him as though he’d clearly laid everything out on the table itself. “Didn’t it occur to you that if he saw the real Veronica, the scout would’ve pieced it all together and left you alone?”

Had that occurred to her? She couldn’t remember. Probably not.

But even if it had, Eden wouldn’t have wanted him to leave her alone if it meant throwing Veronica under the bus like that. Eden at least knew how she was supposed to act in that kind of situation, which was more than Veronica could probably say. And besides, no matter what might’ve happened, she would’ve been fine in the end. Veronica didn’t have that guarantee. Nobody did. Except Eden.

“It was better for him to bother me than her,” she said firmly. “At the very least it threw them off her scent for a bit. Hopefully, she can get some sort of security team or something before they get too wise.”

“They?”

“Whoever wanted those pictures in the first place,” she explained. “I seriously doubt that scout was taking them for his own sake, or he would’ve left the moment “Veronica” started noticing him.” She tilted her head at Red Hood and gave him a wicked smile. “Or did your source not mention that part of my theory?”

“He did,” he said simply. “All the more reason to want to stick your head in the sand, though, don’t you think? It’s what anyone else would’ve done.”

She frowned, finally realizing what he was saying. “You Gothamites are so weird. I’d have thought a vigilante would at least understand..."

“Uh, rude?”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be, but… It’s just I think I figured out what you’re really asking me, and Aaron and Veronica asked me the same thing earlier, too, and it’s just…" She shook her head, finding it hard to wrap her brain around. "Y’all…” She huffed. “Y’all’re just so weird to me.”

Red Hood didn’t say anything.

“Sorry,” she said again, more genuinely. “But you’re asking me why I helped her, right? Even if it wasn’t… oh, how did Veronica say it?” She turned her head, trying to remember. “Wasn’t my problem, I think? Something like that…” She refocused on him. “Anyway, my answer to you is the same as it was for them: because it was the right thing to do.”

Red Hood made a short, unamused noise. “The right thing was pretending to be that girl? Putting yourself in danger?"

“The right thing was helping her,” she corrected. “And that scout had already taken my picture anyway, so…” She swiped between the pictures. “At least I stopped him from taking the real Veronica’s picture, too.”

“But now he’s got your picture.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “Which means his employer’s going to have your picture. If they don’t already.”

“Which they probably do, since he was using a cell phone," she pointed out.

He threw his hands in the air. “Exactly! And he could be some sick, psycho fuck!"

"Well—"

"This is Gotham, Ede," he went on, imploring her to listen. "Even if they know you're not Veronica, they'll know you tried to fuck with their plans for her, whatever they are. People get themselves killed for way less here. You know that, right?”

“No, I... I guess I hadn’t really…”

So that was why a lot of Gothamites didn’t go out of their way to help others! Of course! There was no guarantee offering their hand to one person wouldn't put a huge target on their back with another. And nobody in their right mind would want to risk gaining the attention of one of Gotham’s scarier characters. It all made perfect sense now. Gothamites kept their heads down and only focused on their own problems because they had to. If they didn't, they could very well be signing their life away. And when people asked her why she was helping others, they weren't really asking her that; they were asking her why she was so willing to put her own life in danger for someone else.

But Eden wasn't like them. No matter what happened or what anyone did to her, she would be fine. She was always fine. It didn’t mean she had to throw on a cape and go looking for trouble every day like Frank had wanted her to, but it also meant she didn’t have the same excuse as everyone else. If she could step in and help somebody, she should. She was one of the few in this town who probably could. And, most importantly, she wanted to.

“I still would’ve helped her,” she decided. “Even if someone scary thinks I’m her for a little while, or gets mad at me, at least Veronica is safe for now.”

Red Hood stared at her, unmoving. It wasn’t clear what he was thinking or feeling, but Eden could imagine he might not like what he was hearing. After all, as far as he knew, Eden was just a totally normal, would-die-and-stay-dead civilian.

“I mean, if they have any brain cells at all, they should realize pretty quickly “Veronica” doesn’t look like she should, right?” she said trying to reassure him. “And even if they don’t, all they have to do is follow me home once and they’ll realize they’ve got the wrong girl.” She pointed out the window. “Even a total rock-for-brains moron would start scratching their head if Veronica Bradford came to a neighborhood like this.”

He followed her finger, seeming to consider her words. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But they’d probably just say fuck it and stick around anyway. Especially if it was some goon following orders.”

Eden bobbed her head from side to side, agreeing with the possibility. “They’d still figure it out eventually, though. Veronica’s a socialite. And I’m definitely not. Eventually, she’d post a Snapstagram story or go somewhere fancy while I’m hanging about here and things wouldn’t add up. And if they were still convinced I’m Veronica after something like that, then I don’t think they’re smart enough to be considered much of a threat to anybody but themselves.”

“Everybody is a threat in this city,” he warned her. “And the last thing you want is some twisted mother fucker knowing where you live. Especially if they think you messed with them.”

“I’d rather someone like that know where I live and make my life difficult than let someone else get hurt or killed because I didn’t help them,” she said stubbornly.

Red Hood let out a gruff, half-groaning sound as he sat back to stare up at the ceiling. "Of course you would," he grumbled. He stayed like that for a minute, perhaps trying to gauge how serious she was. He sighed, apparently finding his answer. "I don't get you. You freak out when a stranger shows up to warn you inside, but the idea of some asshole coming here and actually trying to fuck with you? That doesn't scare you?"

"In my defense, this is the ninth floor and it was my private fire escape. I had every right to freak out when some big stranger with guns and a mean-faced helmet suddenly showed up out of nowhere."

He huffed.

"And I'm not completely helpless, Mr. Hood," she told him. "I have a little fighting know-how under my belt."

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure. And how's your neck, again?"

"My...?" She blinked at him, then remembered the healed cut and frowned. "Hey, I'll have you know I was doing very well for myself until I got stabbed!" she said pointing at him.

He looked up again, this time as if asking a higher power for help. “So if someone broke in here with a gun or another knife, you think you'd be able to fight them off?"

“I'd be fine."

"So you do think you could."

"Not really, no."

He stared at her. “Y'know... a little lie might be nice right about now.”

"I could 100% fight them off no problem, Mr. Hood."

He groaned, covering his eyes. "God, you are an awful liar."

Eden tried very hard to suppress her giggles. “If it makes you feel any better," she offered, "I wasn’t planning on it. Pretending to be Veronica, I mean."

Red Hood sighed, but he lowered his hand and gave her his attention anyway.

"Veronica’s not very… Well, let’s say she’s not the most observant person around. And I know my foresight’s not exactly great in the heat of the moment, and I might end up paying for it eventually, but… I couldn’t just... not do something when that scout noticed her, you know? She needed someone to help her and she didn't even know it. So I just… did.”

Red Hood let out a sharp laugh, which sounded sharper with the distortion. He looked away, subtly shaking his head. “So you just did,” he muttered to himself. He turned to her again. “Didn’t you agree not to do anything stupid before I came by again, Cookie Girl?” he teased.

Eden smiled apologetically, then turned coy. “I did try, Mr. Hood,” she said sweetly. “And I promise that that was the stupidest of the stupid things I did. Which I’m willing to bet is still a million times better than the craziest thing you’ve done since the last time I saw you.”

He put a hand on his chest. “Who me? Do something crazy? Never.”

“Uh-huh. You sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure I heard someone say something about a red vigilante being involved with that big explosion Friday night.”

“Nope. Wasn’t me. Must’ve been Red Robin. I’m completely innocent.”

Eden nodded along, not admitting she only knew of the other vigilante because she’d thought Red Robin was just another of Red Hood’s names until somebody corrected her.

“Oh, completely innocent, I’m sure,” she goaded. “And what was it that you were doing oh-so-innocently while the bridge was blowing sky high, Mr. Hood?”

“Hey, the bridge is still standing, isn’t it? He made sure there wouldn’t be any structural damage. Just a little mess of things. He knows what he’s doing with shit like that.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I sure hope he does. Especially if he also has a helmet full of explosives.”

“Not to worry, Ede," he assured her. "I’m the crazy Red.”

“Oh. Good. I feel so much better now. Thanks."

He laughed.

“Wait.” She pointed at him. “Do you both go by Red?”

“We do," he nodded, "but Double R’s usually Red if we’re using shorthand,” he said crossing his arms. “They call me Hood to keep it simple.”

“Oh, well, that’s not confusing at all. Though I suppose y’all can’t exactly call him Robin. That’d be even more confusing.”

Red Hood scoffed. “Demon Spawn would have an absolute fit if we did that.” He looked to the side. “Then again…” He rubbed his chin, seeming to consider it.

“Um,” Eden lifted a tentative finger to catch his attention. “I’m sorry, but this is Gotham City, so I’m gonna need you to clarify: do you mean, like… a real demon spawn or…?”

“I mean I think he is,” Red Hood joked, “but, no, not really. That’s just what I call Robin ‘cause he’s a little shit.”

She perked up. “You mean Robin like… Batman's Robin?” He nodded and Eden scoffed with certainty. “Well, he can’t be that bad, then.”

Red Hood let out a short, sharp laugh. Something about it a bit painful. “Are you an expert on Robins now, Ede?”

“Well… no,” she mumbled, a little embarrassed. “But if he’s a Robin then… I dunno. He can’t be all that bad.”

“Have you ever met the brat?”

Eden shook her head slowly, fighting the urge to scowl.

No, she hadn’t met the boy Red Hood was talking about… But she’d met one of his predecessors. And that Robin? He’d saved her life. Not just from a fight or another encore. She could handle those things on her own. Poorly, sure. But she could.

No, what he’d saved her from was a life full of fights and encores. And pain. Endless, endless cycles of pain.

Without him, who knows where she’d be today. Who she’d be. Certainly not the person she was. Not the civilian trying to make the best of an awful situation by following her theatrical dreams. If he hadn’t knocked some sense into her, she would probably be what Frank wanted her to be. A… A hero. A constantly struggling, hurting, dying, pitiful attempt of a superhero.

Robin saved her from that. From a life of wishing every day, every death, would be her last.

As far as she was concerned, she owed that boy every good goddamn thing in her life. So to hear Red Hood call her hero a brat or a demon spawn, even if it was a completely different boy, even if Red Hood obviously knew him a thousand times better than Eden knew the one she’d met… Well, it upset her. In her heart, “Robin” was still the boy from her childhood.

Though, even she could admit it was hard to remember him clearly after so many years. She could remember the way he’d spoken to her and how it had impacted her, but not most of what he’d actually said. She could remember him joking and laughing with her, but not the way it sounded. She could remember the way he’d smiled and offered his hand before lifting her up into the air, but the scene was fuzzy.

“Sorry,” Red Hood grumbled, rubbing the jawline of his helmet. “I guess you’re more of a Gothamite than we thought.”

“Huh?” She squinted at him, confused. “No, I’m not. What do you mean?”

“Well...” He leaned back, spreading out slightly. “People these days tend to be pretty protective of their Robins. Even when this one first started out and was swinging his sword everywhere—”

“This one’s got a sword?” she blurted out, shocked.

“Yeah, a katana. He hacked up a couple of goons pretty good with it, too. Which I thought was great,” he said gesturing to himself, “but B didn’t.”

“B? As in… Batman?” she whispered.

He snorted at her. “He’s not the boogeyman, Ede. He’s not gonna jump out of your closet if you say his name too loud." Despite saying this, he was clearly doing a quick survey of her apartment.

“Wow. I feel so reassured,” she droned. “Anyway, no, I should be the one apologizing. You clearly know this Robin well, so if you think he’s a—” her mouth twitched slightly “—a brat then... you… probably have your reasons for it. I suppose. And I should... respect that,” she half-snarled.

Red Hood clapped slowly. “Wow. What a beautiful performance, Edie. How’s it feel to be such a great actor?”

“Oh—” she reached over the table and shoved him “—shut it, you!”

He just laughed her off.

“You better start being nice to me, Hood," she said standing and moving toward the fridge.

“Or what?” he asked confidently.

She grinned at him. “Or you’re not getting any Mad Mountain Fudge,” she teased right back.

---

Feedback always loved and appreciated! 🥰💕🥰

Next chapter

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x oc #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #silly #fluff #Never-Ending Encore #chapter 8 #oc: Eden Smith #red hood x oc #cross posted on ao3

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editorialsonlife · 3 years

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Welp, this week has been an exhausted, overthinking, crying mess, culminating in crying in the shower this morning and phoning off work for the day coz I actually couldn't face having to deal with people. The need to just have eight hours to not need to be anything to anyone was strong and I'm so glad I took the day off.

The annoying thing is there hasn't really been any major trigger. Its just been a stupid combo of things that have all kicked in and like, eg. On so many fronts. Just realised I haven't even recapped the wedding yet, oops. Need to do that. My bad.

I guess the wedding is a good place to start because work was freaking hectic when I went on leave, and its not like any work got done while I was away so came back to the same amount of work plus a weeks worth of revisions and edits which was tough. The wedding itself, like all weddings, was ridiculously social and we were both so peopled out by the end of it man. We had a great week on Waiheke away just the two of us and genuinely felt like maybe the suckballsness of 2019 and 2020 might be almost behind us at that point. HA HA HA HA HA YOU OPTIMISTIC CREATURES YOU.

Both of us walked back into jobs which no one had done anything, I walked back into a particularly argumentative coworker (who is about to become the boss but that's a whole separate issue) and then we spent the weekend over the hill in martinborough for a friend's wedding which was organised in three weeks because we found out she has terminal cancer and has been given 6 months to live. So the emotional rollercoaster just freaking continued because that was so bittersweet and hard to watch and she is so unwell.

In addition, we agreed to stay with a couple of friends (married) who were going through mad drama. I'll honestly be surprised if they're still together by the end of the year. But on top of dealing with the wedding friends and that heartbreak, we were then dealing with these friends and it literally became a weekend of couples counselling and trying to look after them. straight back into another manic week at work trying to pull together this workshop which happened on Monday. So hectic. I am not a professional facilitator and while i can do an ok job, I still was dealing with the messiness of getting through the wedding and I have event organising fatigue following that one and just.... argumentative coworker was being an absolute dick about things that was just unnecessary.

We had a weekend at home not seeing anyone or with any plans which was great. Larissa came over and we've booked a girls weekend in Nelson for August which will be fab but she's going through a whole flatting sitch which is nightmarish, super glad she's moving out on Sunday so that was a lot of emotional labour for her. On Friday night we went to Jess and Rob's because their house is finally finished and they moved in and we got into a bunch of discussion about their wedding which is still too soon for my liking but at least she respected not dealing with it during mine so thats a bonus.

Then Monday was a 5am start to actually run this workshop which was just a freaking nightmare. Govt clients are such. hard. work. and this group was a lot to deal with. plus argumentative coworker. I don't think I slept more than four hours any night this week.

it's just been such a busy freaking month, and there's been so much on. Oh yeah. Lynaire moved away in the middle of all of this, Erin leaves in three weeks. I just want a week with no major life changes happening, honestly.

And this week? has just been such hard work mentally. I'm so tired, I'm not feeling at all resilient, and my brain has helpfully spent the week adding up all the different ways I am not good enough or not measuring up and everything I've done wrong and all the ways in which I am inadequate. So that's just been a real good time overall. hence crying in the shower at half past six this morning.

It's been a good day though. I read a book in bed til it warmed up a bit. Went for a good walk down to the river and back. Went and got lunch and watched some gilmore girls and tidied my room and cleaned it and remade the bed with all our winter bedding (thank you 0 degree mornings) and tidied the house and did all the dishes etc. It was very nice not to have to be anything to anyone for a while and just stay home.

There's just so many things in life I just can't even face dealing with right now that I need to. So much stuff that I was like, after the wedding! and now we're here and the pile is huge and overwhelming and I don't know where to start. I need to find a good routine again and get back into looking after myself again. I had hoped I was done with the day to day levels of self management I was doing when I was obnoxiously anxious but I guess the answer to that was a big fat nope. Which sucks but anyway. here we are.

Famous last words, hopefully life will be a bit more chill after this weekend and I can at least get back to yoga once a week again. god I miss it. I need to figure out how to exist in my body again for a while and shut my brain off. I also signed up for yin yoga this weekend with an old yoga teacher who I love so hopefully thats lovely and lush and restorative with any luck.

God I'm exhausted. I feel like I need a break, like I didn't just have a whole week off less than a month ago. Goodness knows it doesn't feel like I did though.

Anyway, that's the friday night update for you. #life man. She's been a lot lately.

When I get the wedding photos back I'll try and do a decent recap.

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drfitzmonster · 3 years

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my coworker just walked to my desk when i had that butch cowboy lino print post there and well, i'm glad she's super chill cishet lady, she didn't bat an eye. i mean, to be fair, it's a cool print so whatever. who doesn't like a little butch cowboy tattood double cheeks to brighten their day, right? thankfully it wasn't my boss though 😆

😅😅😅 lol i'm very glad your boss didn't see

but also yes it's art

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allthewhumpygoodness · 4 years

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Can you do ⌘ and ⬤ please? Thank you ^^

Absolutely!

BTW I think for now this’ll be the last one of these I’ll be doing. I just started at a new job and it’s been a little hectic, and I don’t have much time these days.But thank you for this prompt anyway and I’m glad to answer it!

A thought they heard the a far off voice calling their name, but it was too far away to answer. They felt like they were floating underwater, the voice coming from somewhere high above on the shore.

The hand tapping their shoulder felt only a little closer. They groaned as their head began to pound again, a dull ache that had plagued them for who knew how long. They’d stopped counting the hours.

Rough carpet scratched their cheek when they turned their head...how had they ended up on the floor? Their ears seemed to be working a little better now, or else the voices had gotten louder. They could hear more than one panicked voice talking around them, but were still too tired to make out words.

“A?” There was the first voice again, closer now. “A, it’s me. Can you hear me?”

They groaned again and struggled to open their eyes. A face swam into view above, one they didn’t recognize at first but soon the memory clicked. B, their coworker.

“Oh, A, are you all right?”

A’s throat felt like sandpaper. “What...what happened?”

“You fainted,” said B. “I was just telling you how tired you looked, and then you collapsed. Everyone panicked.”

Head still foggy, A looked around and saw with a sinking feeling the familiar table and chair legs of the office break room. The feet of their other coworkers stood among them, shifting anxiously. “I’ll get them some water,” they heard someone say, and a pair of feet left the room.

Warmth rose into their cheeks, very different from the horrible chill they felt everywhere else. Why, why had they had to pass out here? It was all coming back now; waking up in the morning with that scratchy throat and horrible chills, the aching tiredness that had plagued them all day, and B’s concern...but they weren’t that sick, they’d been prepared to slog through the day and only let themselves crash when they got home...couldn’t their stupid body have waited a few more hours?

Before they could stop them, B laid a warm hand on their forehead. “Oh, honey, you’re burning.”

Honey. They’d hardly ever been called that before, certainly not by B. And certainly not while at work. The flush in their cheeks deepened.

“I’m sorry,” they muttered. “I - I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble. You didn’t call anyone, did you?”

“No. I was going to call an ambulance if you didn’t wake up quickly, but I guess you seem okay...”

“I am. Please don’t call, I don’t need a doctor.”

B looked wary. “You still look awful. Go home, I mean it.”

They would have loved to protest, but really, going home seemed like the best thing in the world at that moment.

They sat up. Too quickly - spots blinked in front of their eyes and B had to hold onto their arm to keep them from falling back down. “Easy,” they said. “Take it slow. Only stand when you’re ready.”

Whoever had gone to get them water was back, handing them the cup and telling them to sip it slowly, as much as they can. C, another office friend. A thanked them, and apologized again, probably more times than they should have.

B and C did everything. B explained to the boss what was going on while A leaned on their shoulder, fighting to stay alert and filling in the story where they needed to. C grabbed their coat and bag from the office, bringing it down to them when they were ready to leave. And the two of them led A through the parking lot to B’s car, practically carrying them with their arms looped around both their shoulders.

C got them settled in the passenger side seat. “Text me once you’re home, okay? I want to make sure you’re alive.”

A smiled weakly and promised to do just that. B grabbed a blanket from their trunk and draped it over them before they started driving, which they accepted gratefully. They curled under it as best as they could, still shivering.

When they were nearing A’s house, B slowed down. “You don’t live with anyone, do you?” They asked.

“No,” A said hoarsely. “Why?”

B chewed their lower lip. “Well, I just worry about you being this sick, and all by yourself. How would you feel if I just took you back to my place? I have a guest room.”

A was so stunned by the offer for a moment they couldn’t speak. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Sure you could. I want to be able to check up on you, make sure you’re doing all right. If you want.”

Though very embarrassed, A nodded. Maybe they were crazy. But they realized they preferred it, too.

B smiled, but still looked worried. They lightly touched A’s hair. “Okay then. Let’s get you home, hon.”

A slumped back against their seat and let themselves doze for the rest of the ride. For once, they didn’t need to worry about anything.

#whump #answered ask #e's whump writings

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anotherdayinchuckletown · 4 years

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They’re Funny That Way, Chapter 2

A/N: Hey, guys! I’m pretty happy with the feedback I received on Chapter 1, and I’m so so thankful to everyone who took the time to read it (especially those of you who offered me kind and encouraging words, ily!) So, the story continues!

I’ve found over the years that dialogue is my biggest strength, and scenes with little to no dialogue stretch and challenge me a bit. So this chapter was a touch longer in development than the last. But I hope to get a consistent update schedule going pretty soon here because I have a very fleshed-out plan for this fic.

That said, I hope you enjoy! Please like, reblog, and comment if you do!

(cross-posted to my AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve)

______________________________________________________

Arthur Fleck has seen an angel. There is no other way to describe it.

Things are especially tedious since he returned from his latest stint at the psychiatric ward. The same things, day in and day out, until each day begins to blur together like a watercolor painting. No clear lines separating one grueling day from the next, every shape hazy and undefined beyond the smoke of his cigarettes. He himself disappears into the smog and goes about his life unseen. Unknown. Not to mention, he's now on thin ice at work – Hoyt, his boss, made that much clear to him right off the bat. "You've missed a lot of days, Arthur," he had said the morning he came in to pick up his belongings. "Just try not to be a pain in the ass. No fucking up, you got that?" Arthur can't remember how he responded, if he responded. Only that the voice in his head (it's his mother's voice that time) told him to Smile. At least you got your job back. It's so much easier to smile when he's Carnival, and not just because the expression is painted on for him. He loves his job, honestly, he does. Every once in a while, when he's working gigs at birthday parties or at the children's hospital, when he's able to make the kids laugh, it seems worth it. For just a minute, it seems as though he's good for something after all. As though maybe when his mother used to tell him his purpose was to spread joy and laughter in the world, she was right. And maybe he could actually do it. Then he takes off the wig, the brightly-colored clothes, the greasepaint...and the illusion is broken. Sometimes it's easy to forget the husk of a man that lies underneath the makeup. Arthur Fleck. Who is Arthur Fleck? Hard to say. Carnival is easier. And so Carnival stays that evening as he walks home. Also because he's just so fucking exhausted. Not changing out of his clown costume at work means a little less dealing with his coworkers and a little more getting home to sequester himself from the rest of the world for the remainder of the evening. The woman on the elevator is not part of the plan. She holds the door open for him and retreats silently into a corner. The air between them is still as death as they ascend, her eyes burning holes in the back of his coat all the while. Arthur initially avoids looking back at her, afraid that if he does, she'll vanish into thin air. He's becoming too used to his lonely, damaged psyche playing such tricks on him. She never even pushes any of the buttons for a specific floor – if she's a hallucination, she's not even a convincing one. The trip is not smooth by any means – surprise, surprise – and the woman seems more than a little perturbed. "Does...that happen often?" Her voice, gentle and feathery, suddenly drifts over him, covering him like a weighted blanket. He turns to face her fully, intending to respond, but pauses when he feels his heart stop. She is undoubtedly the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes on. She instantly evokes images of those actresses in the black and white films of his youth. The same powerful air of sophistication as Grace Kelly. The same allure as Rita Hayworth. Only she's in vivid color, and they're not separated by a screen, and she's so close. Even in the elevator's dingy lighting, her blonde curls glow like a halo. Her full lips are pulled into a concerned frown, and her icy blue eyes are trained quizzically on him. Right, that's because she asked him a question. And he's so far done nothing but stare at her like a depraved creep. Carnival, his work persona, doesn't generally speak - and thank fuck for that. Arthur doesn't think he could power out a single word if he wanted to, his mouth has gone so dry. In the end, all he manages is a shrug. Idiot. She must not think he's a total loser because she keeps talking to him anyway, even pays him a compliment – a compliment! When's the last time that happened? He's definitely glad he kept the clown costume on now; interacting with her this way is safer, gives him less of a chance to screw it up. Less of a chance for her to see how pathetic he really is underneath it all. All good things must come to an end, however, and they do eventually reach the eighth floor. And when they do, she surprises him yet again. "I'm new to the building, by the way – my name's Emma. It's a pleasure." Emma. Emma. Emma. She extends a perfectly-manicured hand, and for a moment, Arthur just stares. This is most likely when he finds out that this woman, this magnificent vision in his hallway, this Emma, is nothing more than a fantastic dream. And if she is, in fact, a dream, he's not so sure he's ready to wake up. Nevertheless, he gingerly returns the gesture. Their hands connect. Soft and tentative, but tangible. Warm. Light. So light that Arthur feels as though he's floating, hovering just above the tiled floor, and he could continue to float forever, as long as he just holds on. To his disappointment, she is the one to let go. Arthur crashes back down to the floor, a chill running through him at the sudden loss of contact, simple though it was. She bids him good night and takes off down the hall, the click of her heels in perfect sync with the thrumming of his heart against his ribcage. Emma. Emma. Emma. He gets the feeling he won't forget that name for as long as he lives. Arthur Fleck has seen an angel. And she is so, so beautiful. _____________________________________ "Hey, you look like shit." "Thanks, motherfucker." On her way to the kitchen, Emma totters past the open bathroom door, where Eddie is busy shaving his face. Apparently not too busy to comment on her fresh-out-of-bed appearance, though. She will admit, she's not surprised if she doesn't look her best at the moment. Almost a week of sleeping on a rapidly-deflating air mattress on Eddie's living room floor has not done her back any favors. The bags forming under her eyes make her look like she hasn't slept since the seventies, and her hair has become stringy and unkempt since the last time it was washed. To top it off, she still has none of her clothes or other belongings. So she's currently sporting an oversized Creedence Clearwater Revival t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, both borrowed from Eddie. They hang off of her smaller frame, giving her the appearance of a sickly child who will be hard-pressed to survive the coming winter. "You making breakfast?" her brother asks, poking his head into the foyer. A glob of shaving cream drips onto the tile below him, and Emma grimaces. She returns her focus to her previous mission of rifling through the freezer, pushing past an assortment of cheap vodka and TV dinners until she finds his deposit of frozen waffles. "Eggos!" she calls out. "Cool! Pop an extra one in the toaster for me, yeah?" Emma complies, setting an extra plate out for him as well. As the toaster whirs quietly atop the kitchen counter, she begins her morning ritual of planting herself on the sofa and burying her face in the job listings section of the local newspaper. The job hunt so far has yielded results that are...less than stellar. So many applications, so many interviews, and so far...nothing. "We'll call you if something else opens up" here and "we'll keep you on file" there. Even a "your educational background is good, but we're looking for a little more experience". It's starting to take a toll on her self-esteem. The only real offer she's gotten is from a dive bar across town called The Harlequin. She's familiar with the bartending world – it's how she put herself through college. And she likes to think she's damn good at it, too – hell, she had mastered the Bloody Mary with only a couple weeks' practice! Run-of-the-mill margaritas and martinis? Piece of cake. Not to mention, studying psychology at the same time has granted her an uncanny ability to manipulate a conversation, bend it to her will. Sniff out how to get the biggest possible tips from each kind of patron. Yes, she's a master, all right. But she's really hoping to move on to something with a more...prestigious title. "Any new prospects today?" Eddie emerges from the bathroom just as the toaster lets out a soft 'ding!' He quickly joins Emma on the sofa, a plate of waffles in either hand and bottle of syrup under his arm, completely bypassing the dining room table as per usual. She hasn't seen him eat a single meal at that table yet, instead opting to bring his food into the living room and spill his goddamn crumbs all over the furniture. "Nothing yet, besides The Harlequin thing," Emma grumbles, taking the fork he offers and muttering a quick "thank you" as he sets a plate down on the coffee table for her. "I'm tempted to accept it, just so I can end the madness." "Didn't Sophie recommend you at the bank?" Eddie goes to town with the syrup, drowning his breakfast until the golden-brown liquid threatens to spill off of his plate and onto the coffee table. "She tried. Nothing was open." Emma puts down the newspaper for the time being, feeling the beginnings of a migraine creeping along her scalp. She instead grabs the remote and flips on the TV across the living room, the background noise helping her to relax her mind. Eddie shovels in a forkful of his syrupy concoction. "Sorry we couldn't get you on at the record store. We had a spot last week, but Ron's back from rehab now..." he says with his mouth full. "That reminds me, you still thinking about medical school?" That gives her pause. Honestly, she hasn't thought about medical school in quite a while. More pressing matters to attend to. Besides, it's been years since she last studied. Who's to say that she could pick up where she left off now, even if she were to apply? In the end, after a moment's hesitation, she shrugs. "Maybe. I'm a little rusty, you know?" She takes a meager bite of her own breakfast, chewing carefully. "Aw, come on, that's a cop-out!" Eddie abruptly stands and rushes to the kitchen, leaving his plate behind. As he begins to rummage through the fridge, he continues. "You gotta at least try! You're smart and talented, you work your ass off – where the fuck? – oh, there it is..." He returns with a can of whipped cream and unleashes about half of it onto his plate, and the other half directly into his mouth. "Plus!" He grins. "You look like me, so you know you've got it goin' on." The fraternal twins did bear a striking resemblance to one another as children, but age has individualized them greatly. Where Emma remains on the shorter side, Eddie is now a solid six feet tall. Eddie has also experienced a little more horizontal growth; although Emma suspects his rampant drinking (more so than his atrocious diet) is the cause. "I'm not sure what looks have to do with anything..." Emma scans her brother's plate for the waffle. She can't see it - it's forever lost to the sugary onslaught. Maybe it is his diet after all. "Looks have to do with everything, Em. Not fair, but true." His eyebrows furrow, and he scrutinizes her face. "Speaking of which, you really do look terrible." "You mentioned." "No, like...have you been sleeping at all?" His eyes narrow with concern, meeting her own sunken ones. "I know that air mattress is a piece of shit - you can get yourself something nicer if you want." Emma sometimes forgets how observant Eddie can be when he focuses. She really hasn't been able to sleep a wink since she arrived in Gotham several days ago. He's right, the air mattress is an awkward and lumpy piece of shit, but that's not the real reason sleep evades her. The walls of the tiny apartment seem to cry in anguish at night. Sirens blare outside the window near constantly; they're sometimes accompanied by flashing red and blue lights, the colors piercing through the curtains and waltzing unsettlingly across the floor. People wander the streets until the wee hours, shouting at each other, their combined voices drifting toward the sky in an unpleasant cacophony. Emma can easily understand why folks here on the East Side are so exhausted. The only person who sleeps less than she does is the man who lives next door. She's never seen him, but she's definitely heard him. At least once every night, when she least expects it, he bursts into sudden uproarious laughter. Normally, Emma would march right over and ask the man what could possibly be so fucking funny at three in the morning (only a bit more tactfully, she's not an animal), but she never brings herself to do it. Truthfully, she's scared to. Something is not right about that laugh. It's discordant and jarring, as if clawing its way into the apartment like a demon prying frantically through the drywall. It lacks joy, and in fact, actually sounds pretty damn miserable. A part of her wonders if the man is all right. Regardless, a better mattress couldn't hurt. "Yeah, I might do that," she says. "I probably should prioritize getting some clothes of my own first." Satisfied, Eddie returns to demolishing his waffle creation. "Get whatever you want, as long as you can make the space for it. Want you to be comfortable while you're here, however long that is." He chuckles. "With your money, I'm sure you can spoil yourself much better than I can." Emma snorts, gesturing wildly at herself and at her surroundings. "Money? What money?" "You kidding?" He looks genuinely surprised for a moment. "Your ex is a millionaire! You mean to tell me you haven't hopped on that alimony pony?" "Oh, don't be ridiculous, I don't give a shit about Daniel's money." Emma rolls her eyes. "Not to mention, we only separated a week ago. We have to set a court date, fill out the paperwork-" "Yeah, yeah," Eddie drawls, waving her off. "When that check comes, you remember who took your ass in, no questions asked. Got it?" It's nice to know his sense of humor hasn't changed. Emma nods once. "You got it." They eat in peaceful silence for a while, the distant voice of the news anchor on TV the only sound in the room. Something that doesn't happen often for the siblings. After a few minutes, Eddie speaks up again. "Hey, Em?" "Yeah?" "...Glad you're back. Missed you." "Hm." A faint smile plays along her lips. "Missed you too."

#joaquin phoenix joker #Joker (2019)#joker 2019 #joker film #arthur fleck #Harley Quinn #my fic #they're funny that way

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1-1snailxd-art · 5 years

Text

Libraries are for Meetings

Masterlist

Mobile App users: I suggest reading on Ao3 or on desktop version. I don’t understand why, but when I look at this fic on mobile the paragraph spaces aren’t there properly. If you know how to fix this, please let me know.

Overview

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Type: Alternate Universe - University

Rating: Mature (mainly because of the thinking and character loss)

Relationships: Analogical (Platonic? Romantic? Who knows), Royality, possibly more to come

Characters: Virgil Sparks, Logan Mars, Patton Smiles, Roman Reels, original Deceit inspired character (they are sweet, I promise), and a few original characters and possibly more familiar names to come.

Summary: Virgil works as a cleaner in a library after loosing his university scholarship. He’s homeless, he’s lost, he’s confused and he has to admit he needs help. Cue an unpredictable meeting and suddenly there is someone willing to take him on the path of self discovery and acceptance. Will he accept it, or will he walk away like he normally does.

Virgil and Logan’s growth may be the main focus, but Patton and Roman do have their own story arcs. A few original characters to steer the story and a reimagined Deceit with their own quirky role to play.

Warnings: anxiety and panic, negative thinking, deaths (original characters), homophobia (and more. This is a tale of self discovery and acceptance), homelessness, different aspects of LGBTQIA+ presented (I probably won’t get the whole spectrum, but there are a few)

Chapter 1 - The Dark Librarian

Music blasted through Virgil’s headphones as he finished piecing a gaming system back together. He was so use to doing this, he was certain he could finish the job with his eyes closed; not that his perfectionism would ever let him try. Checking the clock, he scribbled in his notebook to start working out the cost of his efforts.

“Hey Virgil?... Sparks!”

“I told you not to call me by my surname.” Virgil grumbled, pulling his headphones off as he turned to face his visitor.

A woman lent on the doorframe of the room, dressed in a light blue button up shirt and black slacks. Despite he hair being in a tight bun, a single strand hung loose near her face and she twirled it around her finger.

“What do you need, Katie.” Virgil swooped his bangs off his face and gave her a half smile. “You always twirl your hair when you need something.”

“Read me like a book.”

“We are in a library. Makes sense that I’m good at reading.” Katie was avoiding all eye contact and Virgil groaned, “Spill those feels, Reels. It will be time for my shift to start if you keep stalling.”

Katie let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah, about that.”

“What?” Nervous energy started to build in Virgil’s gut at Katie’s response.

“Look, I know you hate being out the front during the day, but I need you to take the afternoon shift.” Virgil fixed Katie with a tired look as she rambled on. “The main library got in a whole bunch of new reference books and they have all been entered into the system incorrectly, and Tia – that new librarian- tried to fix it herself, but ended up messing up the whole system, and now she’s freaking out and she called me in hysterics because no one can borrow and what is the point of a library if you can’t borrow an-“

“Woah, woah,” Virgil waved his hands out in front of him to silence the freaked out librarian. “It’s fine, Katie. I can manage. It’s a Tuesday, nothing ever happens on a Tuesday.”

“I’ll make sure you get paid for the extra shift, and I’ll come and help you with your normal cleaning as soon as I’m done.”

“Whatever. It’s fine.” Virgil followed Katie out of the room, checking his keycard was in his pocket before closing the office door. “Message me if Tia screwed the computers up too much for you to handle.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Virgil.” Katie started racing towards the front door, before quickly turning to call back to him. “Oh, my brother Roman has booked the reading area at 4:30 and office 3 cancelled so it’s actually free.”

“Would you get out of here already, Reels.”

Katie flipped Virgil the bird before running out the wooden front door, leaving Virgil in the silence of the small, old library.

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

As expected, the library was very quiet all afternoon. Virgil did his best to remain calm and come across as a professional as a few families came in briefly to borrow books with their small children. His ripped jeans and ‘Panic at the Disco!’shirt didn’t really scream ‘librarian’ but his clothing options were very limited at the moment. Not that he liked to admit it, but Virgil had been living on friends couches and in his library office since he lost his university scholarship. Katie was well aware of what Virgil was doing, but feigned ignorance; Virgil would talk to her when he was ready.

“What’s up, Sparkles? Crawled out of your cave rather early today.” Virgil groaned at the sound of Roman’s voice, “Where’s Katie?”

Virgil tilted his head to the side and made sure Roman felt the full weight of the annoyance in his eyes. Katie’s use of his surname was in jest, a joke between coworkers and friends; Roman’s nickname always came across like an insult.

“Wow, touch-y.” Roman held his hands up in surrender, before readjusting his red and white jacket to appear more sincere. “Viiirgil, where is my delightful sister Katie?”

“There was a book emergency at the main library so she went to help out.”

Virgil continued pulling books off the shelf to inspect them for damage, but Roman wasn’t moving on.

“Can I help you with something else?”

“Well I’m glad you asked,” Roman beamed and moved to lean on Virgil’s trolley. “Seeing as no one is in here, can I pl-“

“No.”

“Wha-?” Roman gasped as if he had been shot, “I didn’t even finish asking my question.”

“You didn’t need to.” Virgil returned a book and gave Roman a mischievous smile, “The answer is no.”

Roman stood up and let Virgil push the trolley back down the aisle and towards the main desk. For a moment he considered pulling the ‘My sister is your boss’ card or even turning on the waterworks for his deceased parents but decided against it. He didn’t know much about the mysterious worker, but he knew enough that power and sympathy would get him nowhere. Thankfully, Roman had one more trick up his sleeve.

Virgil watched Roman move the lounge and beanbags around the reading area to extend his floor space. Booking dance spaces was expensive and the library proved to be a cheap, but inferior, alternative. When Roman threw his jacket aside, revealing his tight black tank top, Virgil was quick to avert his eyes to prevent himself from being caught blushing at the sight. Turning back to the computer, Virgil started scrolling through the booking lists and checking that he still had permanent hold over office 2, before going into the system to look for overdue loans.

Humming pulled Virgil away from his thoughts and he saw Roman humming a tune to himself as he danced around the area. There was a slight vibrating sound and Virgil looked to the end of the bench and saw Roman’s phone sitting on a pile of books. Walking over, the screen was lit up as the phone vibrated for an alarm titled ‘music please Virgil’.

Roman paused mid step as the beginning of one of his dance pieces started to come through the overhead speakers, instead of Katie’s usual natural sounds.

“Thank you, Virgil!” Roman called as he re-centred himself and prepared to start his piece.

Shaking his head, Virgil retreated to the seclusion of the aisles to return more books to their shelves. Roman was annoying, but how could he deny the effort the guy had gone to. In all honesty, he was just glad to not have been yelled at or have someone demanding things from him. His opinion of Katie’s little brother shifted slightly in that moment and he couldn’t deny that Roman was truly a very talented young man.

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

BANG

“Katie!”

BANG

“Roman!”

CLICK

Virgil’s heart was racing as he peaked out from an aisle and saw a man in a McDonalds uniform finish locking the front door and start running towards the back of the library. His brown hair was neatly styled, except for a few stray curls that sat on his forehead. He completely ignored Virgil, running straight for Roman and pulling him into a crushing hug.

“Roman, you’ve got to help me. I’ve done something terrible, horrible, unforgivable, utterly-“

“Hey!” Virgil’s loud voice echoed through the empty library as he disconnected Roman’s music and stared at the pair. “You can’t just come in and lock up the library. Who do you think you are?”

“Chill out, Vee. Patton’s with me.” Roman held his arms securely around Patton and looked down at him with eyes full of confusion and concern.

“Don’t call me Vee, and I don’t care if he’s with you or not, you can’t just lock up the library whenever you want.”

Virgil started to walk back towards the door and Patton cried out.

“Please, don’t unlock it. I-“

A loud bang on the door stopped Virgil in his tracks and Patton let out a squeak.

“Patton! Open this door immediately.”

The door shook as the person on the other side attempted to gain entry.

“Geez, Pat, what did you do to him?”

“One guy is making all that noise?” Virgil asked as the banging and yelling continued.

Patton nodded and buried his face into Roman’s shoulder.

“I r-real-ly mes-ssed up, Ro. The b-bi-g-ge-ss-st m-m-mes-“

Patton could barely speak through his sobs and irregular breathing. Virgil had no idea what was happening, but he wasn’t about to find out what would happen if the guy outside got to Patton.

Virgil went to the desk and grabbed the keycard for office 3 and shoved it in Roman’s hand.

“Lock yourself in the office and put the dark screen up. I’ll handle this.”

“But Virgil, you don’t even know-“

“Just get him out of here before he passes out, ok!”

Roman saw the determination in Virgil’s eyes and questioned no more, quickly leading Patton through the library to the office at the back. Virgil did his best to compose himself as he approached the door, hoping his outer self appeared more intimidating than he felt.

“Patton! You need to come out here and face me, NOW!”

Virgil waited until he felt the man shift away from the door again before opening it. What stood before him was not the threat Virgil had pictured at all. Where he had imagined a heavily muscled maniac, a tall man in a white lab coat stood in his place. If it wasn’t for his red face behind squared, black glasses, and the way he quickly stormed passed Virgil, he wouldn’t have believed that this was the same person who had been trying to tear the door down.

“Where is he?” The man started marching down to the back of the library, glancing down the aisles. “I’m going to kill that sorry excuse for a friend so I can dissect and study the brain of that idiotic, pun-generating humanoid.”

“Geez, dude, calm down.” Virgil called, as he attempted to catch up to the man after re-locking the door.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN! My life is over. How can I be calm?”

Virgil watched as the anger melted into sadness and the man clutched a warped laptop to his chest and slumped to his knees.

“He ruined everything.”

Despite squeezing them shut, tears still streamed from the stranger's eyes. Virgil felt the adrenaline of the situation begin to fade from his system, and his legs and hands shook slightly as a result. Squeezing his hands into tight fists to calm them, Virgil knelt before the man and made his voice calm and soft.

“I’m guessing this has something to do with that laptop.”

“Yes,” the man sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket to clean himself up. “Patton…knocked it off of the table at the lab.”

“You chased Patton here from the science labs?” Virgil questioned, surprised when a nod confirmed the distance the two had traversed.

“All my work was on this laptop. Everything…gone.”

Virgil had come across a few students over the years that had similar situations. He’d been given broken laptops, crushed USBs and smashed external hard drives. Everyone reacted a different way to the possibility of losing their data; though this was the first time he had seen someone hulk out over it.

“If you promise not to dissect anyone, I could have a look at it for you.”

“What? What can you do? It’s smashed.”

Virgil smirked as he reached out to carefully take the laptop out of the man's hands.

“You’d be surprised how tough some computers really are.”

“Well...um, thank you…”

“Virgil. Virgil Sparks.” He extended his hand out and offered a reassuring smile.

“Oh, um, I’m Logan Mars.” Logan shook Virgil’s hand and looked down in shame. “I’m sorry for my behaviour. I-it was incredibly uncalled for.”

“You’re right, but don’t sweat it. Come one,” Virgil stood and gestured to the offices, “let’s go check out this laptop, hey.”

Logan slowly followed Virgil to his office, suddenly very aware of the immaturity of his actions. He was thankful that Virgil seemed so forgiving, anyone else would have called security or the police on him. It dawned on Logan that if that had been the case, he could have lost his scholarship and then his life would have been well and truly ruined.

“Thank you for not calling security.” Logan whispered as Virgil unlocked the office and started clearing the table of his work.

“Your welcome.”

“I’m serious. My behaviour was worthy of a call and that would have been the end of my time here. My scholarship would have b-”

“Lo, it’s fine.” Virgil finished boxing the gaming system and heaved it over to the corner of the room. “I wouldn’t jeopardise someone’s scholarship over a mental malfunction. I know what it’s like to lose everything over a simple mistake.”

“Pardon my question, but would you mind elaborating?”

Virgil let out a small chuckle as he searched through his boxes for tools and components for the laptop.

“I lost my scholarship due to a stupid mistake.” The look of sadness and curiosity in Logan’s eyes made Virgil nervous, but he continued. “I got into a fight in the middle of a lecture hall. Some moron made some…disgusting comments. I’ve spent my whole life being afraid to speak and listening to the shit people say about…”

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to say it. Shutting the closet door tight in his mind and quickly wiping a stray tear before Logan could see.

“Yeah, so, um… I decided to stand for what I believed in. Punches were thrown on both sides, but ultimately he ended up with a dislocated jaw and I ended up out of uni and out of money.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Logan couldn’t think of what else to say as Virgil set to work, pulling apart the laptop to inspect the components. Clearly, Virgil was a very multilayered individual. Logan had only seen the surface of who he was, and he was already fascinated with who the man was and who he wanted to be.

He watched curiously as Virgil pulled out various handmade devices and connected wires expertly in the sea of electrical components. Given the anatomy of a living organism, Logan could identify parts and their purposes with ease; but the scene before him now meant nothing. People had called Logan a genius his whole life, but watching Virgil now made him feel like a toddler in a 10th grade math class.

“You are truly skilled in your field, Virgil. Are you taking classes elsewhere to hone your craft?”

Virgil laughed and turned to his own laptop screen, “I would need money to do that dude, and no one would give me another scholarship after losing my last one.”

“So where did you learn to do this?” Logan gestured at the table before him.

“At the Sparks institute of trial and error. Taught myself most things and Google has taught me the rest.”

“Unbelievable. You’re a genius.”

“Ew, seriously Logan, stop.” Virgil moved to grab a USB from his bag and plugged it into his laptop, pulling up another program and adjusting a few wires. “What I do is nothing special. I just know how stuff works.”

Logan watched on in silence as Virgil continued. Clearly, he wasn’t going to take any of Logan’s compliments, and he didn’t give them out freely. The screen suddenly lit up with a document and Logan gasped and threw his arms around Virgil’s neck.

“You did it! You found it!”

“Ca-breathe.”

Quickly releasing Virgil, Logan apologised profusely for losing control of his emotions again. Virgil adjusted his shirt and fixed his hair as he set the computer to start copying the files across.

“You gotta settle down. I can’t guarantee that all your files are here, there is still a chance some of them are corrupted. I’ve got a program separating the corrupted files to a different USB and I’ll see what I can salvage and-“

Logan pulled Virgil into a hug, carefully this time. “Thank you so much, Virgil. If even half of my data and reports are safe, it’ll still be enough to show my professor.”

“I am not comfortable with this much physical contact with a stranger.”

Logan quickly let go and stepped back, “sorry. I, ah, went over the top again.”

“Logan?”

The pair turned at the whispered voice to find Patton standing at the door, Roman protectively close by.

“Patton.” Logan’s voice was calmer now and it sounded strange to Virgil to hear him say Patton’s name in such a way.

“I’m so sorry, Logan. You’ve told me so many times not to be silly in the labs and I let you down. I’m sorry, Logie. Please forgive me.”

“Patton,” Logan took a deep breath and massaged his eyebrows. “You almost cost me everything. Without this data I would have had an incomplete research task which could have jeopardised my time here. Thankfully, Virgil was able to salvage some of my research. I-I-I’m so angry at you right now.”

Logan was staring intently at the corner of the office, while Patton’s eyes never left his friend, even as they filled with tears.

“I don’t think I can stop being angry with you for a while.” Roman placed a comforting hand on Patton’s shoulder as he let out a sob at Logan’s words. “I accept your apology, but I’m not ready to forgive you yet. Do you understand?”

Logan finally looked at Patton as he posed the question. Patton nodded and looked shocked as Logan held out his arms for a hug. Never one to refuse a hug, Patton raced forward and buried himself under Logan’s coat.

Virgil watched on awkwardly at the exchange. His mind trying to piece together the relationship between the three people in the room with him. Roman looked at his phone and started rapidly tapping on the screen.

“I’ll make it up to you, Logan. I promise.” Patton managed to say, as his sobbing finally diminished. “You are my oldest friend and I would never purposefully do anything to ruin our friendship.”

“I know, Patton.” Logan looked over to Roman, who had just pocketed his phone. “Would you mind if Patton stayed with you and Katie for a while.”

“Wha-“ fresh tears started pouring from Patton’s eyes as he lent back to look up at Logan, but the man remained focused on Roman.

“Already organised, Lo.” Roman wrapped his arms around Patton’s waist from behind. “It’s ok, Pat. We’ve been meaning to spend more time together and Logan just needs some space.”

Virgil didn’t think it was possible for Patton’s eyes to get any wider, but they did as Roman slowly backed them out of the room. When the sound of the door closing echoed through the library, Logan’s shoulders slumped once again but this time no tears fell.

“I’ve known Patton since I was seven years old. He’s like a brother to me. It kills me to push him away like that.”

“Then why did you?”

“He needs to learn that there are times that I need to be taken seriously. Besides, he and Roman needed a good excuse to take their relationship to the next level.”

———————————————————————

End note:

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. More chapters to come in the future. Feel free to give me feedback, I am always happy to accept constructive feedback as it helps support my future writing.

💜🐌

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Chapter 2 ----- Masterlist

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles

#libraries are for meetings #LAFM #the dark librarian #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #alternate universe #fanfiction #fanfic #logan logic sanders #virgil anxiety sanders #patton morality sanders #roman creativity sanders #Fanders #famders #my writing #analogical #royality #original characters #yelling

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