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monsterfloofs · 9 months

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Carroigne (Bird creature / plague doctor creature) He/They/It x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

( An scp inspired story, I luff plague doctor creatures and took a stab at making one of my own! I hope you enjoy! :3c Tis Floofy writing hours again wheeeeee💖)

Your job had begun easy enough. Working as a janitor in a top secret facility. With a keyring of important items that consisted of your ID badge and multiple personnel keycards. Accessing just about any level required your ID, a keycard, a number of passwords, a retinal scan, and sometimes even a list of security questions to get into certain spaces. Within your time working for said non-disclosed facility, you have signed a folders worth of waivers, and disclaimers. Many personnel lived within the building while they weren’t on vacation and you were no exception. Your little home away from home space held folders bursting full of paperwork.

That was just from working a small janitorial job. You couldn’t imagine what kind of work loads the clinical lab coat wearing scientists had to deal with on a daily basis. Many things were kept on a need to know basis, and you were the last to know about a lot of things. Still, that didn’t exactly deter you from this job. The money and the roof over your head was convincing enough to have you keep updating the necessary forms you needed to have to stay at the facility.

You took your mop and cart of supplies past heavy steel doors with windows that looked in on an assortment of inhuman beings. The hallway's bright sterile lighting hurt your eyes when first entering the “dorms”. A few of the menagerie of creatures would press their faces against the glass, jaws working in an attempt to say something to you past the barrier.

"It's no place for sympathy," You had been briefed, "Many of these monsters would happily take the opportunity to tear you limb from limb."

You would recite those words in your head as you walked by the rows of containment units.

Yet as you look back now, that was the first mistake you ended up making.

Engaging.

Past the slithering forest of tendrils, gleaming eyes in shadowy corners, and aquatic creatures that floated suspended in the water, among them sat a humanoid shape at a simple table and chair. Something both strange yet familiar that sat out of place.

It was like looking at a Halloween decoration, an animatronic that sat amongst all the other oddities. It could have almost been laughable, back then. Like a prank someone had set up in the room and left for the other workers to stumble upon. The being was swathed in dark clothes, with black leather gloves, a victorian cloak, dark pants down to the knee-high boots with silver buckles. The outfit gave no hint at the skin underneath, even its face was adorned with a mask that obscured their visage. The mask itself resembles a plague doctor’s, with the long pointed beak, and dark glass where the eyes would be. The material was hard and better quality, than what you would find compared to the halloween costumes that mimicked the look. Black leather, with neat stitches that ran around the entirety of the mask. Metal rims inlaid around the round glass lenses.

You had stopped, to peer at the figure inside the room. It had sat so still, like a life sized doll. You were just about to move on, before one gloved hand raised up in a silent wave.

You had stood transfixed on the spot, eyebrows knitting together. You tilted your head, and the being on the other side of the glass mimicked you. The beaked mask resembled more and more like a wide glossy eyed bird. You shuddered, and backed away.

After that one day, whenever you traversed that corridor you could feel eyes watching you intently as you passed. Many times you couldn't help but to turn your head. Though you already knew who it was, typically they sat upon a chair. Hands clasped over a crossed knee. On one occasion you had jumped nearly out of your skin. Seeing the beaked figure inches away from the glass, a piece of paper pressed against the wall with its fingers.

"I have not seen you here before, are you new?" The letters scrawled in a spidery cursive. You felt chills creep up and down your spine, you looked around the deserted passageway, before giving a brief nod. With a flourish of their hand, they produced a fountain pen from their breast pocket. However, whatever spell that had kept you in place was dissolving. You had moved on while they had begun to write something. Taking nervous glances around you as you had sheepishly gone about your business.

The facility had many rules and regulations about the different creatures and anomalies that lay housed inside. After your shift you had sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping through the files you had the authorization to see. Chewing on your bottom lip as you ran your fingers through a thick stack of papers again and again.

Nothing.

There wasn’t any information on the so-called plague doctor. You could only guess that this particular being wasn’t one that was accessible for cleaning personnel. You unceremoniously dropped the stack of papers to the floor. Laying back in the small bed that took up half your living quarters.

You turned this way and that, laying with your hands clasped over your stomach, your eyes trained on the ceiling. This knowledge did very little to clear your conscience. While this being wasn’t one that you were briefed on, that didn’t indicate that they weren’t a threat. Your mind was an ocean of twisting thoughts, you had previously heard accounts of people spiraling into insanity just by hearing some of these strange creatures speak. Your knuckles balling into uneasy fists as you gripped your blanket.

Sleep was uneasy, with many rounds of jolting awake between dreaming. By morning you were exhausted, slumping forward out of bed to head out to the mess hall.

You were greeted by the sight of a bustling space. The clamorous cacophony of voices that were making small talk during breakfast making your head spin. It felt as though you were still dreaming. Grabbing a cup of coffee and a try, wading through the line until you found a seat.

“Unit 1779336 of the Janitorial department?”

You raised your head groggily, close to dozing only moments before, yet you stiffened to sit up straighter. Your eyes falling to the badges of a military uniform.

“Sir?”

“Hate to take you away from your breakfast so early in the morning, but you and I have some things that need to be discussed.”

You feel your chest tighten as you move to stand. The man in front of you stood with his hands clasped behind his back. A stocky man with a neat salt and pepper beard, and piercing green eyes.

You could feel curious gazes directed at you as you walked. You Hunched your shoulders defensively as you trailed behind the uniformed man. You were led down a series of corridors into a large circular office. The man’s wide shoulders slopped as he let out a heavy sigh. He settled down at his desk and tapped a folder on the polished table top.

“You’ve been requested for a promotion.” He said grimly. “This isn't a standard issue. . . but this is a special case.”

You nodded, as a weighty silence hung in the air. He took off his hat, running a hand through his slick backed hair.

“How much do you know about Caroigne?”

“P-pardon?” You inquired, the man’s expression turning stormy as his eyebrows wrinkled his brow.

“Caroigne, the so called “in-house doctor” as it likes to call itself,” He growls “That bastard seems to know an awful lot about you.”

“But I— Sir, I’ve never spoken to—“

His green eyes flashed, and your voice died in your throat. He pauses to take a tempering breath through his nose. Then he pushes the manilla folder towards you across the desk. You glance from him to the manilla, before nervously flipping it open.

In that same spidery hand, that you remember seeing on a scrap of paper, was written your full name. The one you had been sworn to relinquish while you were inside the facility, your age, your job, and a short synopsis of your medical records. There was a smaller footnote underneath the scrawl.

“This subject would be an ideal companion for me while I am enjoying my stay at your facilities.”

“Subject,” You mouth faintly, before staring up at the man, “Y-you’re j-joking. . . r-right?”

He crosses his arms, glowering at you, “Caroigne has refused to speak with all scientists and attendants. If they are willing to speak with you, then it’s a risk we’re willing to take. I will get you the necessary papers you need to have, and you will start in two days.”

Fragility hit you like a freight train, how easily replaceable you were if things were to go sour. The feeling of having the air punched from your lungs continued after you had taken your new briefing papers. The last words of wisdom he had threatened in a grave timber.

“Whatever you do, don’t talk about illnesses in front of it, don’t let it know there is anyone sick, or if you yourself feel ill. Not unless you want to be the new cadaver we have to drag from its room.”

You sat curled into a corner of your bedroom. Legs tucked into your chest as you stared numbly into space.

Those two days were days where you barely left your room. They were spent between reading over your assigned documents and sleeping. The times you did leave your dorm room, there were guards stationed outside of your door to discourage any plans of leaving. You had broken down and cried in the bathroom on that last night, the sleeve of your shirt between your teeth to muffle your sobs.

You stood between two soldiers carrying assault rifles. Your eyes blinked painfully from the tears you hadn’t been able to stop. Head pounding with an ache as you were led into an interrogation room. You entered alone, finding doctor Caroigne already sitting across the table.

“Well hello there~ How delightful that you and I finally get a chance to spea— Oh, oh dear you aren’t looking very well at all.”

You blink at the blurry figure in front of you. Compared to the other people you had encountered the past few days, this was a voice that was filled with what sounded like genuine worry. You swallowed hard, eyes turning to look at the papers in front of you, shuffling them nervously.

“I-I’m fine.” You breathed, “You are. . .”

“Doctor Caroigne dear, but you may just call me Caroigne. And I suppose you’ll want to know my pronouns, that is the new rage nowadays.” they chuckle benignly, “I don’t think I have ever had the pleasure of having any, many scientists in this facility call me a ‘he’ in any case. I truly don’t mind what you choose, but it’s best not to upset the other doctors in this facility. Between you and me, they are dreadfully foul tempered.”

A weak smile graces your lips before it disappears. “You seem to know your way around the staff.”

Caroigne folds their fingers together, tapping his thumbs against each other.

“You could consider me to be somewhat of a flexible individual. One does not simply settle into their surroundings without some difficulty. However, I am proud to say that I have managed quite well.”

You paused, frowning at the papers in your hands, you were going to have to be more direct with these questions. After a moment of hesitation you finally relented, “How. . . did you get my information?”

“Ah, I am assuming ‘they’ would like to know?”

Your eyes slowly moved from your papers to watch them.

Caroigne bobs their masked head in the direction of the dark one way viewing windows.

“I. . . I would also like to know.” You mused softly.

“Hm. . . “ A pause before they give a tsking noise, a tone between amusement and disappointment. “I can’t be giving away all my secrets.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “But,” He says, raising a finger, “I might be able to part with a few of them, for a small price, a token, if you will.”

“And that price would be. . .”

“Oh nothing taxing,” Caroigne huffs, “This,” He spreads his arms, “Is all that I require. It’s been so long since I have talked to someone. Truly talked to someone. Tis a breath of fresh air. As a beast of science myself, I do not mind the others, but all they want to do is batter me with questions, questions, questions. It is that, or I dare say isolation.”

You bobbed you head wordlessly, as the doctor took a breath and continued.

“Furthermore, I liked the look about you, curious, inquisitive, I like that.” They chuckle warmly, “I have a bit of a nose myself~” They joked as they tapped at the mask's beaked visage.

The first meeting was odd. The doctor was well mannered if not very chatty. They asked many questions about yourself, where you had grown up, your childhood. You spent a great deal of time stepping around its questions and asking ones of your own. It had felt stiff with politeness at first, but it had become more natural the longer you talked.

When you had been finally taken and led away, Caroigne impressed just how lovely it had been to chat. Wishing you well, and eager to speak again. Back in your room, you looked back at his case folder, picking up the single photo that was in your file. It was a picture of Caroigne hovering over a mutilated corpse and holding a pen and clipboard. Blood smattering the walls and floor, as the guard had tried to defend themselves. You shuddered, placing the photo back into the folder, the image facing down. It was proof to remember, that no matter how kindly this being seemed, they were dangerous.

You had to be careful.

And you were! For a time. It fell into a routine, a weekly dance the two of you had. You asked him questions and he asked you things as well. You talked about your work, and the folks you missed at home. Somewhere along the way, you could notice yourself changing, the way you talked to them. Less sterilely polite, and more heart. You would laugh at the jokes they had tossed your way, and you spoke more sincerity than you had expected.

Then one day, you messed up.

You hadn’t felt well that day. The beginning of a headache pulsed across your forehead. You settled down at the other side of the table. Cariogne had leaned forward, “And how are you my dear?”

It was just a simple slip up, an off-handed comment. One derived from familiarity and not caution.

“Oh, I’m doing alright, I just have a little bit of a headache.”

You could feel the room go deathly still, “A. . . headache you say?” The calm voice drifted behind the mask. The room fell into pin drop silence as you realized the mistake you just made. Then began a tapping, a sudden drumming of the doctors fingers against the table of the interrogation room. They sat unmoving except for those fingers. The rhythmic tone was the only thing that showed a sudden change in their mood. An almost strained kind of excitement, like a cat ready to pounce.

“What. . . kind of headache, tension? An oncoming migraine, perhaps?” Their voice was casual, off-handed even. But your eyes were transfixed on the four fingers of his right hand.

“T-tension,” You replied, flinching as your voice cracked. You could already feel your pulse begin to quicken as gooseflesh began to creep up your arms. With all the briefing you had done, and reading his file countless times. Going over the information just before you left for these visits, the simplest most easiest rule to remember.

“Ah.” His hand froze, before his hands steepled themselves together.

“I see,”

You nodded your head jerkily, looking away, your eyes scanned the sealed room.

“I see, I see,” He muses, his voice sounding much closer than before. “Our little visits must put a strain on you, I hadn’t realized that.”

You hadn’t seen him get up, and they had moved across the table to stand across from in a blink of an eye. You hadn’t even had a chance to pull away. He leaned down, almost hovering on top of you.

“I wish to impress this upon you, little fledgling, you truly have nothing to worry about.”

The gloved hand touches your chin, raising your head up to stare back at the mask.

You begin to blink back tears as you watch little dots of laser light blink all over his form.

He turns his head, not aware of the sudden change of atmosphere, examining your face until there is a bark from one of the guards behind you.

“Release them Carriogne, and we won’t have to use force,”

He turns his attention away from you finally, “. . . That is quite rude.” The doctor scoffed, “I had known there was someone listening in to our chats. Haven’t you chaps heard of privacy?” He retracts his hand and you can breathe again. Taking the distraction to push out your chair, hastily stepping backward until you reach the threshold. The guards in their heavily armored uniforms push past you to get a clearer aim.

“He’s out of his cuffs again,” One of the soldiers shouted back to the main guard.

“Well, of course I am,” The doctor quipped cheerfully, “I told you they don’t work. I don’t know why you keep trying to use them.”

“That’s enough humor for one day doctor,” Another of the security personnel grunted, tension coloring his voice, “Make a note that the silver handcuffs have no effect, we’ll have to try a different pair next time.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going, no need to cause a fuss.” The doctor huffs, his calm voice sounded only mildly harassed, due to the circumstances. He is jostled out of the interrogation room at gunpoint. He turns his head towards you, sounding apologetic.

“I’m so sorry my dear, for this abrupt change of plans. I also apologize for these men, the lot of them could do with a lesson in manners. . . I would see to it myself but I don’t suppose that would do me personally any favors. I shall see you anon, next week at the latest. If they allow me.”

You don’t respond, but rather watch him being led away. Your heart hammering in your throat, and only finding the energy to sob until you fell into a crumpled heap on your bed. You weren’t sure how close of a shave that could have been.

Due to the events of the last appointment, you were briefly taken off of doctor Caroigne’s appointed meetings. However, word leaked through the grapevine that the doctor hadn’t taken the news well. The whole right wing of the facility had gone on a code red lockdown as they had muscled his way past a squad of guards, sending one of them to the hospital with shattered ribs.

There were about three weeks of bated breath after the lockdown, when things were quiet and you hadn’t heard word of any one being reassigned to Caroigne. Then an envelope had been thrust into the small mail slot in your door, and your heart sank.

You had gone from being a nobody, happy to clean and do janitorial tasks. Avoiding high risk jobs, to now being an imperative piece in dealing with a high risk entity.

Bright lights beating down from above as you were acutely aware of your footsteps. Your breath sounded loud and unnatural in your ears. When the room came into view you saw Carroigne, no simple handcuffs with time, but a full body straight jacket, mingled with heavy metal chains that were also wrapped across their form.

“Y-y-you’ve been a bad birdie,” Your voice shook slightly as you whispered the words, sitting down at the table.

Caroigne’s chains shifted around them as they gave a bemused shrug, “Why, I would contest to this, but I fear, perhaps you are alright. Is the chap in the hospital doing alright? I could take a look at him,”

You shook your head, “He is alright, he is being looked after.”

“Hm.”

“. . . How can you be so calm about this?”

“Should I not be?” The strange masked face tilts, “Perhaps I also should not overlook the fact that I am held here against my will.”

You feel your expression falling. “I. . . I don’t think I can do this, I’m s-sorry.” You had begun to get up, signaling to the guards that you wanted to conclude the session.

“Wait— Mon cher-“

Caroigne must have moved too quickly for the guards' liking. As the door opened and two guards stepped inside the space weapons raised.

You glance back before your eyes go wide. An inhuman noise comes from behind you. You are roughly pushed behind the guards. You let out a strained noise as a clawed hand shoots forward, a wrenching of strained metal and tearing fabric. The hand itself was scaly and ribbed like a birds, past that the skin was dark with veiny irregular skin. Keloid bumps are peppered up the arm and a small smattering of feathers like a molting bird.

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You realize you were the one screaming, voice high and frantic trying to push past the guards. As they opened fire upon Carriogne, his stance hunkering down to shed the cloth to ribbons and toss it aside. The next moment you were alone, the two guards in the room and the others that were trying to rush inside, had been knocked over like a set of bowling pins. You reacted by freezing, covering your face with your hands as a shadow looms over you.

You could hear more inhuman noises above you, a clicking sound making your ears ring. You let out a shuddering breath of air, keeping your hands pressed tightly to your face. Like the mentality of a child afraid of what lurked in the dark, if I don’t look, it can’t see me or can’t hurt me.

The softness of a glove caressed your cheek. Your knees buckling as you are coaxed against a velvety form.

Worker Update

Worker ID Number: 1779336

Previous Position: Janitor

New Position as of September 8th 2021: Interrogatee of entity 275

Status: Employee Terminated

Reason: Unknown Disappearance

!: Emergency Update as of August 6th 2023

Disappearance of entity 275, site wide lock down initiated.

Entity was last seen with employee 1779336, recovery of both Entity 275 and 1779336 is in progress. Any sightings of either should be immediately reported to C. Ivan Willowicke, head of security.

#YOU DUN GOT ATTACTCHED #They told you 'not that bad don't do that'#and you did it anyway like >:3 #if you ever get rescued birb babe is just a ball of chains with their beak peeking out #like oopsie you got me officer #I kissed the hooman and got jail time #plague doctor monster x reader #plague doctor monster x human #bird monster x reader #bird monster x human #I also kind picture them doing a Howl kind of thing with their feathers =o #which makes my brain go ✨️

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topazy · 2 years

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The fierce and broken

Pairing: Raven Reyes x reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood and violence

Chapter: 2.12

You stare down at the ground, trying to contemplate what to do next. Things had drastically gone from bad to worse. You started with Maya as she sobs over her father’s dead body. He’d been shot and killed by another Mount Weather guard.

A lump formed in the back of your throat as you thought about your own parents, and how your mom was killed for helping someone. You knew the pain she was in, but you also knew that nothing anyone said or did would help.

Hearing a clattering noise, you lift your head up and start to walk in the direction it’s coming from. You stop when Bellamy grabs hold of your shoulder and gives you a puzzled look.

“You hear that?” You whisper.

He nods, stepping in front of you and leading the way until you reach a door that requires a keycard to get on the other side. You share a look with the older boy, “What do we do?”

“See what's on the other side,” he says as he hands you the keycard and points his gun at the door. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to check in with Monty and Jasper. “Ready?”

When they all nod, you swipe the keycard, unlocking the door. You expect to see Bellamy firing his gun at an enemy, but instead you see Octavia leaping through the door and hugging him.

When she pulls back from her brother, she hugs you next. “I’m so glad you're okay.”

Your eyes land on Clarke and you notice how displeased she looks. “What the hell happened? Where’s Lexa? Where’s her army?”

“Gone.”

Before you can ask anything else, Maya enters the room, and you notice Octavia’s happy facial expression twisting into one of anger. “It’s alright, she’s with us.”

Maya gives you a small nod. She was truly good; you just hoped there would be some way to keep her safe as well.

“Okay,” Bellamy says, getting everyone’s attention. “We need to talk to Dante. Maya says he's in quarantine.”

As Clarke and Bellamy try to come up with a plan to save your people, Maya’s oxygen tank begins to beep. You look at how much is left in it and say, “I thought this was a new one. It says there's only half an hour left.”

“We did just change it,” Jasper confirms.

You gulp down. You’re running out of time to save your people and Maya didn’t have much left. “I think we should split up,” you say, and everyone looks at you. “That we can find Dante and get Maya another oxygen tank.”

“She’s right,” Clarke says, pausing for a moment. “Octavia, you should go with Jasper and Maya to get another oxygen tank, while me, Bellamy, and Monty go look for Dante.”

“What about you?” Bellamy asks.

“I’ll go with you guys.”

—

You tense up on the spot when you hear fast approaching footsteps. You, Bellamy, Clarke, and Monty were heading towards Dante’s office, but the mount weather guards were starting to close in on you.

Bellamy’s fingers reach for his gun, but you stop him before he pulls it out of his holster. “Don’t, it will only waste time. You guys go ahead, I’ll hold them back.”

Monty looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head, “How?”

“Uh…”, I look into one of the other hallways and notice a mop and bucket lying in the hallway. “I might not be able to stop them, but I can definitely distract them.”

Getting the guards to follow you instead of them was a suicidal move, but you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if innocent lives were lost and you didn’t do everything you could to help.

Clarke grips your arm, “You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes I do. Just make sure you save our people.”

Two guards turned the corner and began running towards you with their guns drawn.You held your hands up in the air, showing you were unarmed, because you had nowhere else to run and hide.

A muffled voice came through the radios on the guards' uniforms. You couldn’t make out what the voice said, but both guards put their guns down. The one closest to you pulled his electric baton out and hit you on the legs with it twice. You screamed as the pain shot through your body, as you fell to the ground.

—

You are dragged into a room that reminds you of your cell on the Ark, except with more people. Your eyes lock with Wick’s. He mouths something to you, but you don’t make it out. Everyone in the room was chained to the wall, including Abby, Jasper, Harper, and Kane.

You feel your heart break as you look down at the table in the middle of the room and see Raven strapped to the table in the middle of the room looking lifeless. “Raven?” You try to get out of the grip of the guard that’s holding you back, “Raven!”

The guard throws you roughly against the wall and chains you to it. You yell at the doctor who’s hovering over Raven, “What are you doing to her?” When he doesn’t answer you, the guard chaining you up sniggers. You collide your forehead with the guard's nose, “Let her go asshole.”

The guard stumbles back and grips his nose in pain, before grunting and punching you in the face with his free hand.

Tears burn your eyes as your vision becomes blurry in your left eye. No doubt you’d have a large bruise, but you didn’t care. Out of your good eye, you can see the blood dripping from Raven’s leg, and you let out a sob as an anger you’ve never felt before travels through your body. Raven was already in so much pain from being shot that the doctor was taking bone marrow from her that it would kill her. “You’re killing her! Stop! Let her go! Take me instead. I won’t fight you; just let her go!”

Dante’s son Cage, the man who was behind all of it, ignores you and points to Abby, “put her on it.”

Both Abby and Kane begin to protest, but it does no good, as Raven was tossed aside and Abby was strapped to the table. You lift your head and look at the camera looking over the room. This was personal. Cage was hurting Abby to get at Clarke, which meant he knew she was watching at that moment.

The room is filled with Abby’s screams as the doctor begins to drill into her leg.

—

You are not sure how many agonising moments have passed when an alarm captures the attention of Cage, the doctor and all the guards in the room. When the guards start to cough heavily, Cage takes off running out of the room.

Radiation.

Clarke, Bellamy, and Monty must have found a way to save your people by letting the outside air in.

“Alba!” Octavia rushes into the room and unchains you from the wall. The moment she does, you rush by her and kneel beside Raven, who is groaning in pain.

You brush a strand of long brown hair out of her face, “hey Reyes. Long time no see.”

“Hi,” she says weakly.

Once he’s unchained, Wick helps you get Raven to her feet. When she’s up, you help her stand as you make your way through the mass hall of Mount Weather and are horrified to see all the dead bodies laying on the ground. men, women, and children. Including Maya

—

You feel a wave of relief wash over you when you finally reach Camp Jaha. You never thought you’d be glad to see it again.

“Wait, Jasper,” Raven says as she reaches into her backpack and pulls out his son's old goggles, which she hands to him. “I almost forgot.”

“My goggles, thank you.”

He looked so broken. You step forward and hug him. “I’m so sorry about Maya. She was good, and deserved so much better.”

Jasper said nothing but embraced your hug, which Raven joined.

—

“Hey.”

You remove your head from your hands and look up to see Raven limping towards you. Since you’d returned to camp, you’d been assisting Jackson in medical to the best of your ability, but you simply didn’t have enough supplies to take everyone who was tortured in mount weathers pain away.

You sigh, knowing Raven was ignoring your medical advice in order to keep you company; “You should be resting.”

Raven rolls her eyes playfully and sits down beside you. “I didn’t want you to be on your own.”

Your mind immediately goes to all the dead people in mount weather, and you wonder how many of them died alone. When you blink away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes, Raven links her fingers with yours.

You continue to sit in a comfortable silence as you both come to terms with everything that has just happened. The knowledge that keeps you from falling apart is that no matter how bad it gets, you still have each other.

#the 100 #raven reyes x reader #Raven Reyes x you #the 100 fanfiction #the 100 fandom #the 100 rewrite #Raven Reyes #raven reyes/reader #Raven Reyes/you #Bellamy Blake #Octavia Blake #Clarke Griffin #the 100 x reader #the fierce and broken

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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HSLOT PHILLY

Like, comment, share, and come talk if you enjoyed the fic.

I write for free - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

Harry is predictable.

He falls into the same patterns during every tour since he was on the Up All Night with One Direction.

The excitement that comes with the first couple of shows begins to fade as he starts his world wide tour that doesn’t end for nearly eight months.

His constant adrenaline wears off and his exhaustion from not having toured in two years settles deep in his bones.

YN senses it from a mile away, has nearly eleven years experience dealing with her jet-lagged, exhausted, and stubborn husband.

It hits the day of the Philadelphia show, they got in late the night before, and YN always set her alarm for seven thirty in the morning to workout.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Harry got up with her and they either did a jog around the new city or they took advantage of the in-hotel gym.

Four percent of the time, he would whine and tug the comforter over his head, whimpering, “M’too tired, baby. Stay in bed w’me.”

And then the one percent, which was today.

The alarm emits a low, constant beep that rouses YN, in the time she takes to rub her eye and come back into reality - Harry hisses with a sharp edge, “Turn tha’ fuckin’ thing off.”

She bites her tongue at his tone, reaching to turn it off but she can already tell what day they’re going to have.

YN slips out from under the covers and automatically gets a comment from her husband, it another whiney demand, “Cover m’feet, y’too the blanket off them.”

“Yes, your majesty,” YN replies reproachfully, rearranging the blankets before quietly moving around the room to change.

“Stop makin’ so much noise.”

“Turn off tha’ light.”

“S’too early f’this, d’you not care that m’tired?”

She chooses to ignore the remarks, hoping that he can sleep off the attitude.

When YN is about to leave, he grumbles, “Y’need to kiss me goodbye.”

Harry purses his lips for a soft kiss, not moving a muscle, and after that - she leaves to head down to the gym.

YN is required a body guard, definitely when she isn’t with Harry or a group of people, and she decided not to follow those rules today.

She had her TPWK water bottle in hand, a cute workout set on ***, and her AirPods tucked in her ear with some Spice Girls playing.

It’s only about twenty minutes into her exercise, a light jog on the treadmill, that a young girl slips up beside the machine.

YN is kind, stopping the belt to smile for a selfie before the girl scampers off and she resumes her run - music blasting.

However, what YN didn’t know, is that fans had found out early in the morning which hotel they where at and a hoard was rushing towards the small gym.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a swarm of fans in rushing into the work area, lining up around her machine with their phones flashing and recording.

She tries to be nice, “Hey! Uh, I’m just trying to workout. I’m sorry, but no pictures please.”

Then there is loud protest and people shoving each other, begging and pleading for a selfie or for her to sign something - all because she was Harry’s wife.

There is literally no exit to escape to, so she relents and anxiously calls Frank - one of the body guards - to come retrieve her.

The whole way back up to her hotel room, Frank is lecturing her about safety and how she could have gotten hurt.

And when he scans the keycard for her hotel room, she feels her stomach drop because Harry is sat against the kitchen counter.

His brown locks are rumpled and going every which way, just in his briefs that are low on his narrow hips, and absolutely irate expression on his face.

“Are y’fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Harry snaps, brow furrowed and jaw clenched - his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

“Good morning to you, sunshine,” YN mutters, shutting the door and kicking off her tennis shoes to the side.

“Don’t,” Harry replies sourly, “Please explain t’me why I get woken up by Frank to be told y’getting mobbed in the gym? And y’didn’t to call him.”

YN bristles at his tone, giving him a pointed look as she steps further into the room, “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“Y’right about that, y’weren’t thinkin’. It is a big deal, y’could have gotten hurt - shouldn’t have t’babysit m’own wife,” Harry huffs, stomping back over to the bed and sliding back under the covers.

“You better watch your tone-“

They’re interrupted with a knock to their door, Harry throws the covers over his head and leaves YN to open the door.

It’s Jeff, who barges in with a coffee in one hand, “Come on, H. Did you forget? You have soundcheck early today and then you have to meet with FullStop to review the details of that new merchandise contract.”

“No, move it,” The popstar groans, muffled from the heavy blankets over him, and his manager and wife give each other a knowing look.

“We can’t. Get up, we need to leave in fifteen,” Jeff replies casually, unbothered as he sips from his to-go mug.

It has Harry dramatically ripping off the covers and getting out of bed, as he charges off towards the bathroom, he shouts backwards, “Wish someone would have fuckin’ told me! Like m’manager or m’wife!”

“Oh my god, here we go,” YN groans quietly to Jeff, snatching up the few things she needs for the venue as well as Harry’s and shoving them in his duffle.

He comes out a few moments later, dressed in running shorts and a vintage Queen shirt - going to tug on his Nikes without a word to either.

But in true Harry fashion, even when he’s mad, he’s still a gentleman. He slips the duffle off his wife��s shoulder so she doesn’t have to carry it.

“Thank you,” She murmurs but he avoids eye contact, being the first to open the hotel room and trudge towards the awaiting car.

It’s a quiet ride, Harry looks out the window with a deep frown and puffy eyes - eyes heavy from the lack of sleep.

Usually, he’d be curled into YN - snuggling as close as possible and asking for her to pet his hair to soothe him.

Not today. But he does have his hand on her thigh.

There’s already fans at the arena and Harry doesn’t acknowledge them - keeps his head down and walks quickly into the private entrance past the barricades.

When a irritated fan screams, “Asshole! We waited all night here for you!”

YN watches as Harry goes to turn, to say something but she pushes him forward through the door to prevent him from doing something he’d regret when wasn’t in a foul mood.

They manage through the long hallways, filled with bustling tour crew, and everybody there to make the show happen.

Sound check isn’t as fun as it usually is, the band stays low-key when Harry does exactly what he needs to do and nothing more.

And after the merch meeting, Harry has reached his limit apparently.

He was so tired, so fucking moody that he couldn’t deal with anymore human interaction.

YN has to step in when she gets a text from Harry Lambert.

Come get your husband. Sarah’s Kitchen.

She sighs, excusing herself from hanging out with Jeff and Glenne - she can hear him from the hallway and now she’s finally get irritated.

“I asked for that specific brand. It’s literally one of the only things I’ve asked for on this tour.”

YN takes a deep breathe before stepping in, there are crew trying not to stare as Harry complains to Sarah about something unimportant.

“Harry,” She says flatly, “Come on.”

He snatches his water bottle and follows his wife out without another word, trailing behind until they end up in his dressing room.

“You need to stop. You’re being a literal nightmare today,” YN tells him, watching him as he digs in the duffle.

“Where is m’charger? Did y’not pack it?” He ignores her words.

“I must have forgot. Harry, I know you’re tired but you can’t be treating everyone like-“

Harry pushes back the bag, seething for no reason, “I’ll treat people however the fuck I want!”

“You’re acting like a spoiled popstar right now,” YN replies, attempting to stay level-headed and calm with him.

“S’my show! M’tour!”

“Yes and everyone is here to support you and you’re treating them like shit. Including me, I’m your wife - the one person in the world that’s here for you no matter what and you’re being downright mean.”

“Y’so fuckin’ sensitive,” Harry mutters angrily, digging around to try to find a charger in a different bag.

And…that stung a bit.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks up and notices how her demeanor had changed - it brings him back to reality for a little bit.

“I’m not going to stay here and be talked to like that because you don’t feel good. I’ll leave you alone because you are being insufferable.”

“Bab-“

YN is already out the door, storming back to Sarah’s kitchen to apologize for her husband’s diva behavior and everyone shrugs her off - knowing it’s not her fault.

She is sat down with the band and a few others when her husband saunters in, he doesn’t look at anyone else as he walks up to his wife.

“Baby, can I talk to you?” He mumbles, his warm hand coming to cup her shoulder.

“Harry,” YN says back, they’ve been together for so long that those words are all she needs to say for him to formulate a response.

“Come nap w’me please, need you. I’ll apologize t’you,” Harry says, his palm encompassing and big on her.

“Harry,” She repeats.

The crew looks on in amusement as Harry huffs, he lifts his head and speaks loudly to the room at once, “I apologize for my behavior. I have no excuse for getting upset like I have been today. I hope you guys can forgive me.”

Everyone assures him that they forgive him, most of them have dealt with actual spoiled celebrities and Harry was just having a bad day (which still really wasn’t that bad.)

“Okay, come on, bunny,” YN agrees, satisfied and can’t help but smile a bit when she stands up and Harry automatically intertwines their fingers to hold her hand.

The sofa in his dressing room folds out to be a bed and they still had hours before the show.

Once they’ve locked the doo and settled down on the mattress - they’re both laying on their sides, facing each other.

“M’sorry, darlin’,” Harry whispers, “I haven’t been very nice t’you today. I was just upset about the gym thing and just being so tired.”

YN hums, combing throwing his fluffy curls with her fingers as his hands explore over her hips and belly like always.

“You always get like this every once in a while on tour, like a little spoiled popstar,” YN says softly, no sharpness in her tone, “You also need to be nice to your wife.”

“M’always nice t’my wife,” He mumbles childishly, leaning forward to nip at her chin, “I am sorry, know tha’ when I act like that it embarrasses you.”

“You’re better than acting like that,” YN reminds him, allowing him to tug her into his warm, now bare chest, “I’m never gonna let you turn into some fame monster. You’re gonna stay the kind, funny, compassionate person I met when I was young.”

And when YN doesn’t get a reply, she glances to see Harry’s eyes shut, mouth slightly parted as he breathes rhythmically and his entire face relaxes as he sleeps.

“Still my boy,” YN murmurs lovingly, nuzzling before letting sleep overtake her.

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wild-karrde · 2 years

Note

hi friend!! for the 200 celeb., i was wondering if i could put in a request for reader x fives doing hooligan things with echo as an accomplice. maybe something along the lines of, “if we get caught, you’re going down with me” 😩 i miss the boys 😩

Hello friendo! I hope you like the direction I went with this! It took a little bit of noodling, but I think I like it (and I hope you do too!).

Rating - T (language)

“A little to the left,” the ARC trooper whispers.

“Fives, shut the kriff up. You’re not helping,” you hiss back.

“Well, you’re going too slow.”

“This takes finesse, something you lack.”

The ARC trooper next to you sighed in exasperation. “Remind me again why we couldn’t just go through a main door for this?”

You roll your eyes. “I told you, to get into the garage, I’d have to scan my badge, so they’d have a log that I went in and out at this time. They won’t check the maintenance catwalk logs. We’re safe up here.”

“Yeah, but now this whole thing is harder than it needs to be.”

“You want the sticky buns or not?”

Wolffe had been gone two minutes, and you knew you were running out of time quickly to retrieve your spoils. The commander always stopped by a particular bakery with sticky buns after every mission, but he refused to reveal where he got them, knowing word would spread like wildfire amongst the ranks and potentially impacting his supply. Fives and Echo had been trying to get a sample or his source out of him for weeks to no avail, so they’d resorted to drastic measures and enlisted you knowing Wolffe would sometimes leave them at the garage in the 104th's main gunship since it required keycard access. Keycard access that you also had as a padawan.

“What better person to help with a heist than a Jedi?” Fives had asked, leaning over your bunk to try and persuade you.

“I’m pretty sure almost anyone else. It’s not really our thing,” you had countered.

“We’ll give you a third of whatever’s in the bag.”

“Alright I’m in.”

And now, here you were, brow furrowed in concentration as you reached out through the Force to navigate the bag of sticky buns out of the ship below you. Fives huffs again at you, but doesn’t say anything else as you focus on guiding the bag of sticky buns out of the gunship's main door. Cracking an eye open, you see the bag emerging from the ship, and you can’t suppress the grin that breaks across your face. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call this a success once you get them up here.”

Carefully, you start to raise the bag up towards the catwalk you’re perched on. You can almost taste victory, and you imagine it tastes a lot like these sticky buns. The commlink on Fives’s vambrace buzzes.

“Guys, he’s back.” The two of you freeze as Echo’s voice buzzes over the comm. “Guys?”

KRIFF.

“HURRY,” Fives hisses.

“You think you can do this faster? Be my guest,” you snap quietly as you continue hovering the bag closer and closer. It’s just within reach as you hear Wolffe’s approaching footsteps. He’s whistling as he steps into the gunship. Fives stands, reaching out over the railing to lock his fingers around one of the bag’s handles.

Suddenly, the whistling inside the ship stops, and you hear quicker footsteps as Wolffe jogs back out of the ship, head swinging back and forth to try and find the culprits behind the theft. Fives grips the bag, pulling it back towards the two of you. As he pulls it over the rail, a corner of it catches on a bolt that’s sticking out, jerking the lip of it down. You and Fives watch in horror as one of the buns slips out of the bag, tumbling towards the floor and landing at the commander’s feet with a moderately upsetting splat. Wolffe’s head immediately snaps up, his eyes squinting into the darkness to try and identify the source.

“RUN!” Fives shouts, and the two of you take off down the catwalk, Fives cradling the bag to his chest as you tear along behind him. Looking down, you can see Wolffe is heading for the door along the same wall as the catwalk exit, and you swear internally. Just as you round the last corner, your feet slip out from under you, and you fall onto your stomach on the durasteel catwalk, swearing loudly. Fives pauses as you try to stand back up, only to realize that the clasp on your belt is hooked to the catwalk.

“FIVES! HELP!” you whisper loudly, trying to wriggle the clasp loose to no avail. He’s five meters or so from you, a step from the door, and you see him pause, contemplating his options. A grin spreads across his face, and you realize what he’s decided.

“Sorry, kid. Thanks for the help though!”

“Oh, no you don’t!” You reach out with the Force, pulling Fives up into the air and back towards you as he flails, dropping the bag on the platform just inside the catwalk door.

“NO! Put me down! Oh, COME ON!” he grumbles as he writhes.

You swear at him. “You kriffing coward, get over here and help me get loose. If we get caught, I’m taking you down with me for talking me into this stupid plan in the first place.”

Fives twists, pulling a knife from his belt as you drop him next to you. “FINE. Hold still.” He quickly slices through your belt, roughly pulling you to your feet as you grab your lightsaber off of the ruined leather. The two of you scramble to the door, and you pick up the bag as you push through. Your face instantly slams into a grey and white wall of plastoid, and you glance up, finding yourself staring up at the scarred face of Commander Wolffe, his cybernetic eye practically piercing right through you. His brow is furrowed as he grips your shoulders.

“I think you have something of mine,” he says, and you gulp. Fives is no help, standing there with his mouth agape.

“Yup. Just wanted to ummm…make sure they were being properly watched over,” you say, guiltily handing the bag back to the commander with one hand.

“Uh huh. Well, in the future, I’d suggest not making such an effort,” the commander says sternly, glaring down at you and then tossing Fives a frown before turning and striding off.

Echo slips out from where he was hiding around the corner. “Damn,” he mutters, and Fives rubs his hand over his face.

“We’re never going to get those.”

You grin, spinning to face them and drawing your other hand behind your back. You’re holding three of the sticky buns that you swiped out of Wolffe’s bag before handing it back. Fives’s eyes light back up, and he reaches for one, but you yank your hand back above your head.

“You were going to leave me stuck to that catwalk, after everything I’ve done for you. Why should I give you a single one? Echo and I should just split these three ourselves since he’s apparently the only one to have any honor.”

“He was kriffing hiding around the corner while we got busted. The hell do you mean he’s the only one to have any honor?” Fives asked mockingly, doing an insulting imitation of you on the last phrase. You glare at him, and finally, he relents.

“Alright, alright. If you let me have one, the next time we go out to 79s, I’ve got all your drinks.”

You contemplate the offer for a moment before heaving a large sigh. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

Fives doesn’t appear to hear you as he chomps down on the bun, his eyes rolling back in his head in bliss. Echo’s still savoring the smell before he takes an equally large bite, letting out a groan. You smile at the two of them as you take a bite of your bun, your mouth filling with honey and candied meiloorun, drawing a deep satisfied curse from your lips.

“Kriff, that’s good.”

Fives grins, some honey stuck to his goatee. “Definitely worth the trouble. Kind of makes me wish I’d have left you and had the whole bag.”

You slug him in the shoulder. “There was no way I was gonna let that happen.”

Participate in my 200 Follower Celebration! :)

#karrde writes #200 follower celebration #follower celebration #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #fanfiction #fan fic #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #commander wolffe #501st shenanigans #jedi reader

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mystery-star · 3 years

Text

Waiting for you - Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: mentions of injury and death

Words: 1838

Star Trek universe: AOS

A/N: Just a lil thing I wrote because I haven’t written (at least for Spocko) in ages. And didn’t feel like writing on a series.

“She’s here. She’s here” you heard someone shouting beside you and looked around and finally you could see the Enterprise approaching in one of many tunnels above you. You smiled and stepped forward a little and waited for the crew to dismount. When you saw the first of them, your smile got broader and you got onto your tiptoes to look out for your husband. Not many people of the Enterprise had someone waiting for them and those who did seemed overjoyed. It made you look down for moment because you had a feeling that Spock wouldn’t greet you like others greeted their loved ones. Finally, you could see him and slightly raised your hand, hoping he’d see you. When he did, he came straight towards you, stopping half a meter in front of you

“(Y/N)” he said “What brings you to Yorktown?”

“I’ll give you three guesses” you replied and just threw yourself around his neck “I’ve missed you, Spock” you breathed against his skin and he hugged you back slightly.

“Am I therefore right to conclude that you came here in order to see me during my shore leave?”

“Right” you let go of him but only that you could kiss him. He cupped your face and kissed you back. At some point his hand found yours, slowly stroking his first two fingers against yours. But then he pulled away from you all of a sudden, just holding your hand. You turned around and saw two older Vulcans behind you.

“Commander, might we have a word? Alone?” you wanted to ask why you couldn’t come when Spock threw a glance at you and squeezed your hand

“Do you mind?”

“Just be quick” you pecked his cheek “I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” you handed him a keycard of the hotel where you had booked a room for you both. He gave a nod, then let go of your hand and followed the two men. With a sigh you looked after him and returned to the hotel, knowing he would be clever enough to find it when he was done.

But he only came when it was dark and you were already in bed, reading a magazine on your PADD.

“Have you been waiting with sleeping until I return?”

“Well, you got some days of shore leave, then I won’t see you for another two years. I want to use every minute with you that I can” he gave a nod and sat down on the bed, placing a device on the nightstand. “What did they want?”

“I will tell you in the morning”

“Alright” you put the PADD aside and stretched yourself a little before sitting up, crawling closer to him and wrapping your arms around him again, kissing him. “We now have better things to do, don’t you think?” he kissed you back and placed one of his hands in the small of your back, pulling you closer while he ran his other hand over the side of your face. After the kiss he leaned his forehead to yours and you bumped his nose with yours. “Did you have fun out there on the mission?”

“I have written and called you three times per week, as we have agreed on, and informed you about what you call ‘adventures’ and have also answered each question concerning them I was allowed to answer”

“Well yes but your last message was two days ago. I need a recap of the past two days. Or retell me your favorite mission. Doing it face-to-face is much better” you pecked his lips. He gave a nod, pulled you into his lap and started telling you how the Captain had attempted to make peace between two species that didn’t work out as planned. Then he went on to their arrival to Yorktown and suddenly his communicator beeped “Tell me that’s your private comm”

“It is not” he leaned forward to get it and you just wanted to stop him but let it happen with a sigh. Placing you back on the bed, he gave your hand a squeeze, took the comm, opened it and left the room. With a sigh you fell back on the bed, glancing to the PADD and considering if you should continue reading but then looked at the ceiling, repeating everything you had planned to do with Spock in the following days in your mind. Soon Spock returned and you sat up with a smile but his words ruined it “I must go”

“Go? Go where? Aren’t you on shore leave?”

“I am. However, there is a matter that requires my assistance”

“What is it?”

“I cannot tell you much but I must leave Yorktown”

“You’re shitting me”

“I do not joke”

“But… but… will you at least get that time off later on? How long will you be gone?”

“I suppose it should not take longer than 36 hours”

“Oh well…. Then you owe me yet another debriefing upon your return” he gave a nod, came closer to put his comm on his nightstand and pecking your forehead.

“Please make yourself a pleasant day tomorrow”

“Okay. And then I’ll be waiting here for you… again”

But Spock didn’t come home the evening or morning after he had left, so you decided to make yourself another nice day exploring another area of Yorktown. In the late afternoon, you suddenly heard how the station went on alert and after looking around you saw that a swarm of tiny ships tried attacking Yorktown. Around you everyone was in panic, screaming, rallying kids and running away while you stood there frozen, staring at the many little ships on the other side of Yorktown.

“We have to leave. Come. Now” someone next to you shouted, pulling on your arm

“Can we go somewhere safe? Like a… bunker?”

“A bunker on a Starbase?” the man started laughing slightly and shook his head.

“Or can we do something? Something to help? Is there a defense station or militia? Or help evacuate people?”

“That’s Starfleet’s business” as if on cue, there was an announcement, informing the public that there was an attack and that you should not panic. You let out a snort and watched how the people around you seemed to panic even more. You looked around and finally saw a security, officer, going over to him.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be safe, just stay calm and…”

“No, I wanted to ask if I can help something.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. Weapons, evacuate people or something” he looked at you, considered it a while then said he’d have to check it out. But before he could return, they managed to somehow blow up all the small ships. Somehow you couldn’t believe that this was everything and sure enough, there was another announcement informing the public that a great part of the ship had been destroyed but that three of them had gotten into Yorktown but that they still had the situation under control and would do everything to stop them. For some reason, you found that three ships hand entered Yorktown almost worse than the initial attack. Because you knew there probably wasn’t much you could do unless the ships came to that part of Yorktown, you sat down in a café, ordered a drink and watched the news on the big screen that gave a permanent update on the situation at the other end of Yorktown. Not even 15 minutes later, you heard that everyone was out of danger and the intruders had been rendered harmless. After a sigh, you finished your drink and then returned to the scene of the action, maybe there now was something you could help, like tidying up damage or helping the wounded. You stayed there and helped until it was dark and the volunteers were sent home, so you returned to the hotel. But you didn’t get far and the receptionist called you over.

“You are (Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?”

“That’s me, yeah”

“I have message for you, from a doctor Leonard McCoy”

“I know him. He’s the doctor on the Enterprise. What is this message about?”

“He lets you know, that your husband… Commander Spock will spend the night in Yorktown hospital”

“Ho-hospital? They’re back? What does he have? Is it bad? Can I visit him? When did they get back?”

“He only told me that so you know where your husband is and in case you wish to see him. I don’t know anything else” you nodded and with a thank-you you ran out of the hotel, to the hospital, where you had brought a few people earlier today. You went to a visitor station to register your visit and once you knew where your husband was and that he currently could be visited, you rushed to the elevator and then to his room. When you saw Spock lying in bed awake, you let out a deep breath and moved closer.

“Spock” you breathed, not sure what to say and having a hundred questions at the tip of your tongue. "How are you?” was the first you asked

“I am well, (Y/N). The doctors insisted I stayed the night to ensure that my condition does not become worse” you nodded and came closer, taking his hand, pressing a kiss to it as you sat down on the edge of the bed. To your delight, he squeezed your hand.

“What happened? To you, I mean?” he explained how on the mission his side was impaled by a piece of metal and that McCoy didn’t have the correct equipment to properly treat him. “At least you’re safe” you ran your free hand through his hair. “When did you even get back?”

“4.2 hours ago”

“That was… that was when the attack happened” he agreed and said it was them who played a great role in stopping them. “Oh so that big ship that destroyed the central plaza was you, the Franklin?”

“Indeed”

“And what about the Enterprise?”

“She has been destroyed”

“Oh no. What about the crew? Are they safe?”

“We have not yet been able to ascertain who has survived the attack on the Enterprise and who lost their life, however, I am certain that at least 350 people have survived”

“Out of 428 that’s still a lot that could have died”

“Besides, I also know of at least 16 casualties from the crew” you gave a nod

“And what now? I mean is your mission over? The Enterprise is gone”

“We do not know yet but it is certain that we will remain her for longer than the originally scheduled 12 days of shore leave”

“Well, then we got more time to do something as long as we’re here. And I get to see you longer. Ha that visit was worth it” you leant down to kiss his forehead. “Now we just gotta make sure you’ll be on your feet as soon as possible because I have lot planned for the next days”

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

#spock #spock x reader #spock x you #spock imagine #aos spock #imagine

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 3 years

Text

Trees Are Stupid.

There are some things in life that people learn without ever having to experience them. For me, one of those things really should have been ‘do not sneak out of a second story bedroom window if you have a broken leg’.

In my defense, I’d never had any trouble with the window before. The peach tree in our neighbour’s backyard was broad and healthy and one of its thick, strong branches was within easy jumping distance from my room. I’d silently slid the window open, checked to be sure that I was in the poorly-disguised undercover policeman’s blind spot, and was halfway out before I realised that balancing on the sill might be a little difficult with my right foot and calf encased in plaster.

I gripped both sides of the window frame and balanced as well as I could on my left foot. I’d always been small for my age, looking closer to eleven than fourteen, so the jump wouldn’t require very much strength. The branch, barely visible in the fading light, seemed to wave in time to the gunfire and screaming wafting up from my parents’ movie downstairs.

I leapt, and smacked right into the branch. It was a jump I could normally make without thinking about it, but the broken leg had thrown me off; I smacked chest-first into solid wood and instinctively wrapped my arms around it to keep from falling. The pain rushed through my ribs all the way to my spine, then faded, lingering for an extra moment in the little scar just to the left of my breastbone that I always tried to ignore. Not that I’d be able to ignore it any more, after the accident.

No, not accident. After the attack.

The back porch light was on. Most people would take this to be an accident, but I knew it was my parents’ plausibly deniable polite concession to the undercover police officers we were all pretending not to notice. They needed a clear view of the back door to make sure I was staying in the house like a good little boy. The light clearly illuminated the word WITCH that somebody had spraypainted across the back of our house, but it didn’t reach me in the tree. After a few seconds of stillness in which I waited for someone to move or shout, I felt it was safe to continue.

Arms and knees around the branch, I slid along it over the fence bordering our yard and towards the trunk of the tree. Our neighbours were still awake; light was visible around the kitchen blinds. This wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t all that late.

Normally I’d just drop to the ground and go ring the doorbell, but there was the issue of the police. Something else gave me pause, too; the small wreath of holly and mistletoe hung on the back door. That hurt more than hitting the branch had. Contrary to myth, neither holly nor mistletoe had ever stopped me from entering a building – I wouldn’t be able to enter most shops or cafes if it did – but the Nebits weren’t to know that. They’d always made a point of not warding their doors, and the fact that they’d done so now… well. I couldn’t really blame them, could I?

I switched to another branch, one stretching towards the Nebits’ house. The window I was aiming for wasn’t all that far from my own; it seemed like an awful lot of work to reach it by treeclimbing. If we’d been on the ground floor, I’d almost be able to reach it from my own window.

I couldn’t quite reach it from the tree, though. Again, this was a jump I’d made dozens of times, but it had been hard enough jumping into the tree with a broken leg; even I wasn’t going to try to jump out of a tree at a closed window when I couldn’t even safely stand up. I could envision the result – me slamming face-first into the wall below the window, and the Nebits coming to investigate the noise and finding a broken, bleeding body under their peach tree. Not an ideal situation.

Instead, I plucked a peach from the tree and threw it at the window. A moment later, it opened.

Melissa was sihlouetted in her bedroom light, so I couldn’t see much more than the halo of brown hair she was in the process of brushing, but I knew she was glaring at me. Melissa has the kind of glare you can feel through lead walls. When she grows up and has kids, they’re going to be the most well-behaved children in the world.

“Kayden, what the hell?”

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

“You shouldn’t be here! You’re under house arrest!”

“I know, that’s why I’m in a tree. But it is Saturday.”

Apparently, Melissa couldn’t argue with this logic. She fetched the usual climbing rope from her closet and tossed one end to me. I tied it to the tree, slid my way over to the window, and climbed in.

“Are you alright?” Melissa asked, checking over my arms for scratches and bruises. I didn’t pull away; Melissa gets focused when she’s worried, and it’s generally best not to get in her way. There were dark shadows under her eyes, I noticed, and her normally rosy, freckled cheeks were pale; had she lost sleep over me?

I shrugged. “They discharged me, so nothing can be too wrong with me. It’s not the first fall I’ve taken.”

“You know what I meant.”

I shrugged again.

“We tried to visit you, you know. They had you in some kind of high security ward and Chelsea almost got caught trying to pickpocket a nurse’s keycard.”

I suppressed a chuckle. “Of course she did. She’s not here yet?”

“She was grounded after the keycard thing, so I don’t think she’ll be able to convince her mum to – ”

Just then, Melissa’s bedroom door opened. “Don’t tell my mum I’m here,” Chelsea said quietly. “I’m grounded.”

Melissa threw up her arms. “Did anyone in this neighbourhood not sneak out of their bedroom window today?”

“Um, you didn’t,” I pointed out.

“Neither did I,” Chelsea said. “I’m not an idiot. I used our bathroom window. First floor.”

“Well la-de-da, Miss Police-Aren’t-Watching-My-House,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Kayden, did you climb a tree in your pyjamas?” Chelsea asked.

I glanced down at myself. “Maybe.”

“You’ve lost a button.”

Chelsea, unlike Melissa and I, was not in her pyjamas. She was wearing a flannel shirt that I was pretty sure was mine. Despite being a year younger than me, we were exactly the same size, and more than once she’d joked about getting me a jaw-length blonde wig and herself a shorter brown one to see how long we could pretend to be each other before someone noticed. Said jokes were getting worryingly serious.

“It’s your turn to hide the tracker,” Chelsea reminded me.

Melissa glared at her. “That stupid tracker game created this mess, and you still expect him to play?” she snapped.

“That’s pretty insensitive, Chel,” I agreed. “Especially since I’ve already hidden it. You think the school roof was a clever hiding spot? Oh, man. You are in for a wake-up call.”

She frowned. “You’re bluffing,” she said. “You haven’t had a chance to hide anything. They took you straight home from the hospi – ” She put her face in her hands and groaned. “You found the tracker before you ended up in hospital. You had it with you. And the only other places you’ve been are your house, and a high security ward in the hospital. And you know better than to hide it in your house.”

I spread my hands. “Hey, the circumstances aren’t my fault. If you want to find it, might I suggest stealing a nurse’s keycard? Oh wait.”

“You’re both crazy,” Melissa said.

“That’s a weird way to pronounce ‘incredibly awesome’,” Chelsea said. “When does the cast come off?”

“In another week and a half.”

“Just in time for school holidays!”

“I’m suspended anyway, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

We fell silent. None of us wanted to talk about the next obvious point of conversation.

Eventually, Melissa asked, “What about after the school holidays?”

I shrugged. “They haven’t set a date for the trial or anything yet, so…”

“So you’ll probably get a super long holiday before you’re found innocent and everything goes back to normal!” Chelsea threw an arm over my shoulders. “I’m so jealous.”

I shrugged her off. “I’m not innocent. My victim – ”

“Victim!” Chelsea scoffed. “You know this is Matt Parker you’re talking about, right? If I’d been up there I’d have pushed him off myself, curse or no curse.”

“You’re innocent,” Melissa said. “You know the law. Accidental consequences of curses can’t be prosecuted, unless the carrier of the curse was knowledgably negligent.”

“Fourteen-year-olds shouldn’t use words like ‘negligent’,” Chelsea frowned. “You sound like my dad.”

Melissa ignored her. “You’ve had that curse stuck in your heart since before you could walk, and nobody could ever say you were negligent. It’s done absolutely nothing for fourteen years. No causing sickness, no turning things to gold, it doesn’t even sour milk. There was absolutely no way you could have predicted it to lash out here.”

“That’s the point,” I said. “I should have expected it to lash out, because I should always be expecting it to lash out. My control slipped, and now everyone knows I put that jerk in hospital. He nearly died, you know. I nearly killed him.”

“Your curse nearly killed him,” Melissa corrected.

“I would have nearly killed him if I got the chance,” Chelsea shrugged. “Don’t even need a curse. I would’ve just hit him.”

“Everyone knows that Matt’s injuries are more self-inflicted than anything,” Melissa added. “Nobody blames you for any of this.”

“Then why is there a wreath on your door?” I asked.

Melissa looked away. “My parents are idiots.”

“No, your parents are scared, and they’re right. Your family have known about my curse since I got it. Your parents never had a problem with it, or with me, until now. But now they finally see what it means, what it can do, and they want nothing to do with me. They think I could hurt you, and they’re right. I could kill both of you without warning. Doesn’t that bother you?”

The two girls stared at me, completely unimpressed. Chelsea rolled her eyes.

“Why would that bother us?” Melissa asked. “It’s not exactly new information.”

“You’ve always known about the curse, but now that it’s active and – ”

Melissa waved me silent. “Not the curse. I mean in general. We’re all capable of killing each other if we want. You don’t need a curse for that. Five minutes ago I threw you a rope to climb in my window; I could’ve untied my end and you could very easily have died. Does that bother you?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t. I’m not saying your curse doesn’t suck, I’m just saying it doesn’t make you a terrifying monster, and anybody who looks at you differently now that it’s attacked Matt is an idiot for not taking it seriously and getting over it years ago.”

“That’s easy for us to say,” Chelsea said, “but to be fair, people have been kind of freaking out. Your family and mine were the only ones around here who ever really knew about the curse. To everyone else, it kind of…” she shrugged.

“Looks like I lied to them about something really dangerous I was carrying around the neighbourhood?” I asked.

“… Kind of, yeah. But they’ll get over it.”

“What’s the internet look like? The police confiscated my phone and I haven’t been online since the whole thing happened.”

The girls exchanged a worried glance.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Mum turned our wi-fi off. I don’t think she wants me to see what people are saying.”

“You don’t want to see what people are saying,” Melissa said quickly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chelsea said. “If anyone gives you trouble, point at them and babble nonsense until they run screaming.”

“Yeah, because that would help his court case,” Melissa said.

“Nobody can give me any trouble. I’m not supposed to leave the house. Actually, I should probably get back before Mum and Dad notice I’m missing.”

“Righto. Liss, do you have some rope?” Chelsea headed for the window.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Stringing a rope from the tree to your window. Or did you have another plan for getting back in with that?” She nudged my cast with her toe. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She took a rope from Melissa, slipped easily out the window and within seconds was walking along the tree branch outside.

“I’ll never get how you two can do that,” Melissa remarked.

“It’s easy. It’s just one foot in front of the other. Until you slip and break a leg.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick to the ground like a normal person, thanks.”

“Sounds boring.”

Melissa chuckled and shoved me playfully. I grinned, trying to keep the mood light. Trying not to think about the future.

Whether I was found guilty of assault or not, I was dangerous, and now the whole street and the whole school knew it. There was no going back from that.

And I didn’t know what to do.

Story continues here.

#writing #curse words #yeah that's right I'm just fuckin'#dumping chapter 1 here #I'm out of marketing ideas #this is what I have been reduced to

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thenovelartist · 3 years

Text

Burned Beginnings, Chapter 5

<<Previous Next>>

13. Family

“Yes, Maman, Adrien and I arrived safely. Now please go to bed.”

“I just wanted to check up on you,” her maman said from the other side of the phone. “It’s your first time out of the country, so you’ll have to excuse me if I worry about you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Marinette assured, glancing over at Adrien as he snatched one of their luggage bags off the carousel. “And tell that to Papa, too. I know he’s more worried than you are.”

“Why do you think I’m the one making the call and not him.”

Marinette laughed. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“All right. Thank you, sweetie. Enjoy your trip.”

“Thank you, Maman. Love you. Tell Papa I love him.”

“Will do. Love you, too.”

With that, Marinette ended the call.

“Got our bags,” Adrien said, pulling the two suitcases behind him. “How’d the call go?”

“Fine,” Marinette said, putting her phone in her purse. “My parents are just worried about me, so it was me doing what I could to settle them.”

“You have a close family, so I understand that.”

Marinette took her suitcase from him. “So where to, now?”

“Taxi to the hotel, drop of our suitcases, find a place for dinner, maybe walk around the city a bit if we’re up for it, and then crash out for the night.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad a plan.”

“Then let’s go, milady.”

Once they’d secured a taxi, Marinette looked out the window to take in the sights.

“Have you been here before, Adrien?” she eventually asked.

“Couple times for modeling jobs and once for fashion week,” he confirmed.

“Do you like New York City?”

Adrien shrugged. “It’s novel. It’s kinda like Paris, being a bustling city, but it’s just so modern and feels like people just don’t appreciate the history behind their city, you know? And the natives here are like a whole different breed of human. But they feel the same about us, so feeling’s mutual.”

Marinette nodded, turning back to the window to marvel at the sights.

When they got to the hotel, Adrien checked them in. Marinette only knew basic, school-grade level English, but Adrien seemed comfortable with the language. He did promise to be her translator for everything.

“Here’s your room key,” he said, handing her a room key once he’d finished at the front desk. “I got two rooms right next to each other.”

“I still can’t believe you paid for all this,” she said, taking the keycard. “This is so much, Adrien.”

Adrien shrugged. “I wanted to,” he brushed off. “And it’s not like I’m going to go broke from this trip or anything. It’s fine.”

Marinette still wasn’t fully comfortable with all of it, and she still knew that one day, she’d have to pay him back somehow. But for now, she’d smile and thank him for the millionth time.

Once they dumped their suitcases, they started to wander around town until they happened across a food shop that smelled amazing. They wondered inside the bustling shop and found the line was conveniently long enough for Adrien to read off most of the menu for her. Once Marinette told him what she wanted, he was kind enough to order for her. But before Adrien could pay, Marinette quickly held out her own card.

“I can get it, really,” she said with a grin.

“You don’t have to.”

“Please,” she said with a pout.

The cashier laughed and made some comment about her that got Adrien to smile and put away his card.

“He said that you sure know how to guilt trip a guy,” Adrien translated as they walked back to their hotel, bag of take-out food in hand. “And I couldn’t help but agree.”

Marinette grinned at that. “I’ve had good practice manipulating you. It’s almost like you just let me do it at this point.”

Adrien snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you’d think I’d have learned by now that you’re a little minx.”

“But you love me,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

She meant it as an offhand comment. One that could easily be brushed off, but that wasn’t its intent. She was probing, like the ‘little minx’ she was.

And she liked the hesitant response she got, his pause followed by a soft smile and gentle shake of the head. “Yeah, I do.”

14. New York

He forgot just how much he hated New York Fashion Week.

I’m doing this for Marinette.

That was what kept him going. That, and her smiles. She was happy and enjoying herself, which made this whole trip worthwhile.

The last thing that made this easier to bear was the fact he was strictly a spectator. While he’d debated using what contacts he had to see if they could have special access, he ultimately decided not to. When his father kicked him out, it wasn’t something that was just kept quiet. Back when he still was in contact with Chloe, she told him he was the buzz of the fashion world. Even recently back in Paris, he had been spotted by cameras and had come across an article written about him. Whatever contacts Adrien had would likely be unwilling to work with him, and he wasn’t willing to take those chances to find out for certain. Not even for Marinette. If she decided no after this, Adrien would still feel confident that he did everything her could to help her make her decision.

“You look tired. No, more like completely drained.”

Adrien looked down at the lovely lady standing beside him and forced a smile. “I’m fine. Are you enjoying yourself?”

Marinette paused. “I am,” she answered.

“That’s all that matters, then.”

“Adrien?!”

Both he and Marinette turned their attention towards the voice.

And Adrien’s heart dropped. “Chloe.”

The woman rushed over to him, heels clacking on the pavement. The fiery look in her eye was one he was all too familiar with: she was on a mission. “Adrien, I have so many questions for you, but let’s start with what the hell you’re doing here with her.”

Adrien gave Chloe a flat look. “I thought I told you I no longer want to be in contact.”

“Yeah! What’s that about?” Chloe screeched. “You text me out of the blue and tell me we’re done?”

Adrien nodded. “Yup. Because if all our interactions after my dad kicked me out weren’t enough to convince me, Marinette here told me everything. I was already fed up with your lies and how cruelly you treated people, but telling people we slept together when we never did takes the cake.”

Chloe froze, her eyes wide with horror, and Adrien knew why. Was he being an ass on purpose? Absolutely. He knew full well what he was doing talking in his best English loudly enough for anyone and everyone around to hear.

In the blink of an eye, camera flashes started up, and Adrien knew that meant paparazzi were here, ready to cash in on this drama. He pulled Marinette close, knowing it was likely too late but still trying to hide her face against his shoulder.

“Adrien,” Chloe began, voice dripping with fake honey. “What are you talking about?”

“Our friendship is over, Chloe. Don’t try to lie your way out by saying I just used you for sexual favors, either. Because that never happened. We never happened. Just leave me alone, and don’t bother contacting me ever again.” He hoped he didn’t butcher the English in that, but even if he did, he didn’t particularly care. His point got across, Chloe was redder than a tomato, and security was doing their best to shoo the paparazzi away.

Now, it was time for him to leave, if for no other reason than getting Marinette out of here. “Head down, cover your face,” he whispered to her.

She already had her hand over her face, but she still nodded in understanding.

“You think this is over, Adrien? Just like that?” Chloe yelled in French.

“Completely,” Adrien asserted.

How Chloe’s face turned redder, he didn’t know, but it did. “And you never answered my question of what you were doing with her!”

Adrien was going to leave it, but Marinette turned around and snapped. “I’m treating him with more respect than you ever did, entitled bitch!”

His heart went thud in his chest, and he quickly slapped his hand over the grin that couldn’t be suppressed. As he ushered Marinette away as quickly as he could, he snuck a glance behind him at an absolutely enraged Chloe, her security coming to her aid and trying to get her in the car. He hated to say it, but served her right.

15. Dreams

“I’m not doing this.”

“Hmm?”

Marinette looked over at Adrien. Currently, they were resting in Adrien’s room while eating pizza from a little place close to the hotel. “I’m not going into this industry. At least, not this section of it.”

Adrien’s expression fell. “Was it because of Chloe?”

Half of Marinette’s lips pulled up in a twisted, bitter way. “Yes and no,” she said. “Chloe wasn’t the only reason I came to this decision, but she’s a good reminder that people like that will always be a part of it. People who would gladly manipulate you to advance themselves exist here, and you will always have to be careful about who you can and can’t trust in this industry. Who can you trust to give your designs to, who do you have to hide from, when do you let go of your designs even though they won’t be under your name, and when do you cling to them in the hopes that one day you’ll be able to use it? I just…”

She shrugged, giving Adrien a pitiful smile. “I don’t have the energy to gamble on this trust game,” she finally managed. “And I don’t trust easily in the first place. Which, in a profession that requires you to be social and stretch yourself out into, that would take so much out of me. And in the end, I just don’t want to. Maybe things would have been different had I not been walked over by Chloe. Had things not gone in such a way where teachers and students automatically began to assume the worst out of me just because of my reputation that I didn’t even get to shape myself. I don’t want to go in an industry that demands those parts of me that I’ve learned not to give out. I can’t.”

The pain on Adrien’s face physically hurt her. He’d given so much to encourage her, and here she was, practically throwing it back in his face.

Yet, despite that, he smiled sympathetically. “If that’s your decision and your reason, I won’t challenge you on it anymore.”

At the sight of his forced smile, her heart hurt, and the guilt soon became so much to bear. She wouldn’t cry, though, not even as she felt the pinprick of tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrowed. “What for?”

“I feel bad for making this decision, because you brought me here to New York Fashion week. You spent time and money planning this trip just to encourage me, and here I am throwing it back in your face. I’m really appreciative of what you’ve done for me. Really, I mean it. So, I’m so sorry that I can’t… I can’t move forward and prove your efforts weren’t in vain.”

She hadn’t been expecting the shock on his face at her words, like they’d caught him off guard. But soon, that faded away into a soft, sympathetic smile. A real one that she liked so much, that could ease her worries and calm her down.

He stood from the bed and started walking over to her, his arms open. At this point, she gladly took the invitation, standing from the chair she’d been curled up in and meeting him half-way. When he wrapped her up tightly, she clung back, relishing in the warm comfort that being cocooned in his arms, protected from the world, provided.

“I’m not disappointed,” he spoke softly. “Not at all. It’s clear you thought long and hard about your decision, and so, if you decided you didn’t want to go into this field, then that’s perfectly fine. I just didn’t want you to give up on your dreams just because you saw only the negative. And I know I was part of that, telling you my own horror stories. That’s why we came, as one last encouragement to feed your dreams before you decided on your future.”

By now, Marinette could feel the tears well up in her eyes. She sniffed, hoping to bite them back.

At that sound, Adrien squeezed her tighter with one arm and rubbed her back with the other. “Oh, Marinette,” he whispered soothingly.

That was all it took to break her. The tears spilled over down her cheeks, and there was no stopping them. She buried her face against his chest, clenching his shirt tighter as she hiccupped out choked sobs. “Thank you,” she managed to squeak out in the midst of her tears. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re so welcome, Marinette,” he whispered.

Still, he never let go, continuing to hold her as he gently swayed back and forth. And Marinette gladly stayed in that warm embrace, unwilling to leave the comfort he so willingly provided, even after her tears had stopped falling.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #AdrinetteApril2021 #adrienette #fluff #a little angst #but this is as low as we go #only up from here

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

Text

Bottom of the Glass

Genre: Bodyguard!AU, Angst

Pairing: Jinyoung x Reader

Summary: It’d been almost ten years since you left the life of glitz and cameras behind, never looking back. But someone refused to let go. When danger comes knocking, your father insists on hiring the best to keep you safe. Reluctant, you agree. Park Jinyoung is constantly by your side, but as the stalker gets closer, will he be able to keep you safe without getting too close himself?

Part: 1 I 2

Dan pouted at your lack of enthusiasm to go along with his joke. Jinyoung seemed to find it somewhat amusing, given the smirk on his face. But he got over it fairly quickly.

“If you don’t mind, Daniel, I would like to talk to Miss (y/n) about the measures we’ll take to ensure her safety.”

“Absolutely,” Dan agreed. He looked at you and then back at Jinyoung. “I’ll leave you two to discuss… safety measures.”

You rolled your eyes as your friend’s retreating back. Not waiting for Jinyoung to start his no-doubt rehearsed speech on how he was going to upend your life, you went back to your desk and cleaned off the food and napkins that covered the surface. You finished your glass of wine and sat down in the chair. Jinyoung remained standing, the smirk gone, nothing left but a blank, distant expression. With no prompt from you, he got started.

“Your father has already provided me with a key to your apartment and I’ve met with the security staff there. I will have access to the cameras from my phone both for the apartment building and the hotel. I will drive you wherever you want to go, but for the time being you should limit your activities to work, home, and grocery stores. If you can work from home, that would be even better. There are agencies that will pick up your groceries and deliver them. That should be an avenue to utilize. I’m currently running background checks on employees, apartment staff and your close friends.”

“What?” A few drops of the water you had taken a sip from to counteract the wine you’d chugged found their way down the wrong pipe in your throat. “You’re looking into my friends?” You scoffed. “That’s how you knew about Dan’s line.”

“One can’t be too careful.”

“It’s Dan. He runs away from fireflies and organizes his clothes by color than by season. “Fake, pig, or otherwise, he wouldn’t have the stomach to go anywhere near blood.” If there was one person you could trust not to be behind all the phone calls and the bloody package, it would be Dan. And you refused to let this overreaching, overpaid babysitter make you paranoid and isolate everyone in your life.

Jinyoung shrugged, unmoved by your argument. “It’s the job. I can’t rule anyone out, no matter who they are to you.”

“Who’s next? My cousins?”

The silence was enough of an answer.

Leaning back in your chair, you closed your eyes and rubbed the space between your brows. “Listen. I am not working from my apartment. I have too many meetings and too much work to stay on my couch in my sweatpants. If there’s a function that requires my presence, then I’m going to go.” To let him know that you were completely serious, you opened your eyes and held his gaze. “You’re here at the insistence of my father. I’m tolerating this for his sake. But - and I will keep saying this - I’m not going to let that weirdo who is obsessed with a long forgotten past mess up my life now.”

Seconds of silence ticked by. Jinyoung kept your gaze, unmoving and unreadable. The more you stared back, the more you saw what Dan possibly saw.

This bodyguard was nothing like you had expected. He was on the shorter side, not intimidating at first glance. If you looked too long at his face, as long as he wasn’t smiling, then maybe he could insight… some sort of emotion. But you felt nothing. Nothing but annoyance, that is.

As both an actor and a director in this company, you’d learned to read people. You’d learned to search their faces for the emotions hidden underneath, to pick apart what they otherwise wanted to hide. But it was baffling to you how cutoff Jinyoung was. You saw nothing in his eyes that gave away the thoughts in his head.

Shifting minutely, he finally said, “But what is a life that’s a little out of order compared to no life at all?”

A bit of... an eccentric way to put it. “Poetic.”

He let out a fairly short laugh. “It’s been known to happen.”

You were still skeptical. You still didn’t want your life to be whirled around like you were caught in a tornado. But he had a point - the winds were already coming. And you couldn’t outrun a storm.

Crossing your arms and legs, you gave a smirk of your own. “You are certainly… not a cliché.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Something more of a Dwayne Johnson type?”

“You need speed, not strength.”

“Did you just insult The Rock?”

Over the direction of the conversation, Jinyoung sighed. “Are you done for the night? I need to inspect your apartment.”

Oh, gosh. You rarely had strangers over. Was your place even clean? Were there dishes in the sink? Fresh clothes that still needed to be put away? It didn’t matter if your apartment was pristine or in shambles like a hotel after Spring Break, you knew the bodyguard was going to force his way in. So you gave way, nodding and standing up from your desk. What was left could wait until tomorrow.

A short car ride followed up a brief yet heated conversation in the parking garage as to who was driving. Jinyoung all but implied that he was the better driver with faster reflexes while you insisted that no one knew your car as well as you did. A pitiful argument. Your car didn’t have special modifications or a tricky gear. It was a standard, newer model that drove basically like any other motorized vehicle. It was nothing more than your first powerplay – and Jinyoung had won.

If your stalker wanted you to feel like that teenage actress again, they were succeeding.

Back then, you weren’t allowed to drive either. Too risky since teenagers had a tendency to get into more accidents and – whether it was your fault or not – whatever fender-bender you got into would end up in the tabloids. Add in the fact that you were usually in cities that you weren’t entirely familiar with and it was just best to be chauffeured whenever possible. At least this time you were able to sit in the front seat.

You handed Jinyoung the keycard that granted access to the parking garage and guided him to your assigned spot. No more words were spoken as the two of you got out of the car and headed inside.

The lobby was the only entrance to and from the garage for “security” (a word that you were going to get really tired of here soon). Once your feet hit the transition from concrete to polished tile, you headed for the elevators. Jinyoung, however, steered you away with a hand on the shoulder. His destination was the front desk where the doorman sat behind a marble barrier.

“Ah, you must be Park Jinyoung,” Walt, the doorman, greeted with a smile. He stood from his chair and leaned over the barrier to shake Jinyoung’s hand.

Walt was the doorman that you liked. He always wore a smile and had a gentle, uncle-like feel to him. The kind of uncle you enjoyed being around, not the annoying, obnoxious kind that you steered clear from at family gatherings. That title belonged to Newman, who mostly worked the late-night shift. For good reason.

“Your firm head met with us yesterday and went over the broad stroke of things. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to sit in on the meeting with our security staff earlier today with you present.” Walt didn’t seem effected by the news of your new bodyguard in the slightest.

“That’s alright,” Jinyoung nodded. “I’m sure they went over the briefing with you?”

“Absolutely. All packages for Miss (y/n) are to be collected here and left for you to inspect before being passed on to her. I’m to notate any strange behavior I see, both from strangers and from other residents.”

“Good. Good.”

“How’s your mom, Walt?” you asked, hating the feeling of being talked about like you weren’t standing right there. You just hoped that no one else living here was overhearing this conversation. You doubted that they would take too kindly to being watched and investigated like this.

Walt smiled. “She’s doing good. Has her bad days though where she forgets what year it is or that she’s not in the country anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” Your heart went out to Walt. His situation wasn’t the easiest to handle.

“Alzheimer’s?” Jinyoung guessed in a tone that still managed to be sympathetic.

Walt nodded. “It’s slow going, though, so that’s a small blessing.”

“That’s good.”

“Have a good night, Walt,” you said. You were currently fighting back a yawn. Wine always made you tired. You don’t know why you let Dan talk you into having a glass at the office. Maybe it was the stress of your predicament that made you give in so easily.

“Good night, Miss (y/n). Get some rest.”

The smile dropped from your face as soon as the elevator doors closed. Now more than ever, you just wanted to slide between your sheets and go to sleep. There was even a little bit of hope that you would wake up tomorrow and this would all be a dream and Jinyoung would just be a face that your brain chose after seeing him in some designer clothes commercial. If the bodyguard noticed your change in posture or expression, he made no mention of it.

Getting your key into the door was a struggle, but eventually the lock clicked, and you were able to go inside your home. A sense of relief flowed over you when you closed the door behind you.

“You should get some rest,” Jinyoung suggested. This, you would not argue over. He started making rounds through the apartment, looking out the windows and checking the shelves for things you preferred not to think about.

Grabbing a fresh towel from the hallway closet, you entered your bedroom and straight for the shower. It was twenty minutes of uninterrupted thought-processing. You talked yourself into temporarily thinking that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

Yes, it was going to suck. Yes, you were going to get annoyed and probably fight with Jinyoung a few more times. But this was just another obstacle life was placing in your way. It was going to be a long hard climb, but you’d make it over sooner or later. As far as you were concerned, this “stalker” would eventually get bored and move on to some other has-been.

Much more relaxed, you got out of the shower and slipped into your sleepwear before going to check on Jinyoung. You found him out in the main living room fluffing up a pillow on the couch. His shoes and jacket were off but you didn’t see them in the immediate vicinity.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t seem surprised by your sudden appearance, not even looking up at you as he answered, “Getting ready to sleep.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Out here?”

“Yes.”

Maybe he thought that the couch was his only option. Obviously your bedroom was off the table and down the hall. “I have a guest bedroom.” Well, two really, but one was being used more as an extra office-slash-storage space.

“If someone breaks in, I’ll know sooner and can respond better out here.”

You weren’t even going to try and argue. You shrugged. “Okay, have it your way.”

Not being completely heartless, you went back to the hallway closet and got out an extra blanket.

He revealed a small grin when you handed it over. “Thank you.” He sat down on the couch, eyes roaming over the room. His gaze lingered on the entryways and windows. You always kept the curtains closed, except for when it was raining or snowing. Regular sunlight was too bright for your liking and created a glare on the TV. Also… you didn’t like the idea of someone in a building across the way possibly looking in.

Okay, so maybe a little part of your brain had always been paranoid, and you just never wanted to admit. You still refused to do so out loud.

“You can go to bed,” Jinyoung chuckled. “You don’t have to watch over me. That’s my job.”

“Right.” Could you be even more awkward about this situation? Turning to go, you almost took that first step to head to your room, but then another thought jumped into priority. “Are you seriously going to sleep in your suit?”

Jinyoung looked down at his shirt and then back up at you. “Yugyeom will drop my suitcases off tomorrow. This will do for tonight.”

You snorted. “Let me guess, your luggage will contain all white button downs and perfectly tailored slacks.”

“That’s the uniform.”

Shaking your head, you turned to go. And then whipped right back around.

“I can look after myself, you know.” It was your last-ditch effort to get him to ease back. Pointless? More than likely. But you wanted Jinyoung to understand that you were not a poor damsel in distress who couldn’t tie her own shoes. You were used to taking care of yourself, doing what was best for you. The decisions in your life had been yours, for the most part.

Jinyoung’s usually stoic expression softened, if only by a fraction. “No one is doubting that. But two sticks are harder to break than one.”

Unsure of how to respond, you nodded. Now you made it to your room. Leaning back against the door, you blew the air out of your lungs. You still weren’t completely on board with this. You flipped back and forth between accepting it and wanting to fight it.

You had control issues; you can admit to that much. That was what made working in your father’s company so much better for your personality than acting. Or maybe it was because of your famous youth years that you were now obsessed with maintaining control. Whatever the reason was, that didn’t change how you are.

Bright side, (y/n). Think of the bright side.

At least he didn’t seem brutish. He was going to be stubborn on doing things his way, but he wasn’t cruel about it. So far.

He’s just doing his job.

That you didn’t necessarily hire him for.

But your father did. And it eased his worry and therefore would be better for his overall health.

“Just think of it as another acting project,” you told yourself, cringing in the process. “Act like you’re okay with it. Maybe eventually you will be.”

Eventually. Yeah, okay.

Pushing off the door, you shuffled over to the bed and slipped between the covers. It took almost an hour of tossing back and forth, crumpling your sheets and tucking your comforter in the process, but you fell asleep. Eventually.

Noise from the television woke you up the next morning. With a groan you flipped over to check your phone that was charging on the nightstand. It was only five-forty in the morning. Who the hell in their right mind was up this early?

Unable to fall back asleep, you gave up and crawled out of bed. After a quick maintenance run in the bathroom, you ventured outside to the living room.

Jinyoung was sitting up on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His brow was furrowed from concentration. The news didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary to you, but Jinyoung was entranced. The anchor was giving an update on the military conflict in another country. It was sad and depressing. You tried not to think about it too much.

“Did you actually sleep?” you asked in an effort to distract yourself. Still waking up, you wrapped your arms around yourself and let free a yawn.

“Eight hours,” he replied. You had a hard time believing that. Next to him, the blanket was folded with precision, lying neatly on top of the throw pillow. Tonight you would have to remember to get him a real pillow from the guest room to sleep on.

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Jinyoung glanced at you over his shoulder. “You can go back to sleep.”

You shook your head. “I can’t sleep with noise on.”

“Sorry. I’ll mute the TV.” He started to reach for the remote.

“It’s alright,” you stopped him. “I’m hungry now and won’t go back to sleep with a growling stomach. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll make breakfast.”

“Thank you.”

You shot his back a curious glance before continuing to the kitchen. Although there was no reason to, you’d expected him to decline. Oh, well. Making breakfast for two shouldn’t be much harder than breakfast for one.

It took about fifteen minutes to put the food together. By that time, your stomach was growling viciously, and you could feel your blood sugar dropping dangerously low. To help stabilize it, you shot down a glass of orange juice. That calmed the stormy waters long enough to finish up. You took a plate out to Jinyoung first, along with silverware. He thanked you for the meal.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“Do you have coffee?”

You nodded. You were already brewing yourself a cup. “What kind do you like?”

“I’m usually an Americano guy, but I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

“I can do an Americano,” you said. You, erm, splurged on a nice coffee machine that basically does it all. You like your coffee fancy, as embarrassing as it is. Plain black with just creamer or sugar wasn’t enough for you.

The Americano was easy enough to make. You even had a little teal to-go cup with a lid and straw for Jinyoung to use. He half-scoffed, half-laughed at the thing when you brought it out to him, but he thanked you nonetheless. Now it was your turn to sit and eat. Usually you ate at the table, but Jinyoung was still out in the living room and you felt too awkward to eat in there when he was out here, so you joined him, taking a spot on the recliner. Tucking your feet under you, you began to break your fast. The news had moved on to a lighter, humanitarian topic, so you gave it part of your attention.

Knock, knock, knock.

Jinyoung froze. Slowly and quietly, he put the plate down on the coffee table. His hand slid under the pillow and pulled out a firearm. Now it was your turn to stiffen.

He walked slowly over to the door and peeked through the small peephole. Then his shoulders relaxed. Sliding the gun between his waist band, he opened the door with a huff.

“You’re supposed to call that you’re on your way.”

In stepped a much taller, lankier man than even the one that came with Jaebeom the other day. Though still in a suit, this bodyguard was still very boyish, smiling and giggling as he came into view. His black hair wasn’t perfectly smooth like Jinyoung’s. “I forgot. Bambam was in a hurry to get to his favorite café.”

“Now isn’t really the time for him to be flirting with the baristas,” Jinyoung deadpanned. He reached out and took the suitcase that the other one had rolled in.

“You’re just jealous that he’s better at it than you.” Noticing you, the other bodyguard waived. “Hi! I’m Yugyeom!”

You waved back sheepishly. “Hi.”

“If you get tired of this one watching you,” he jabbed his thumb in Jinyoung’s direction, “I’ll gladly take over. I’m much more fun than hyung here.”

“Yugyeom….” Jinyoung warned.

Yugyeom was undeterred. “He’s already got you up early. He tried to do that with me and Bambam, but we like sleeping. You know, like normal people. Next time, though, you should try to get up before him. He may look scary now, but when he’s sleeping, he’s actually kind of cute—”

“Yugyeom!” Jinyoung snapped. “Don’t you have a briefing to get to?”

The latter checked his watch. “Not for another hour, but I should probably wrangle Bambam away from the café before he busy the place out.” Still giggling, Yugyeom waved to you. “Nice to meet you, (y/n).”

“You, too,” you said with a laugh of your own. Jinyoung all but shoved the poor guy out the door. Once it was shut, he sighed, leaning his forehead and forearm against the wooden barrier.

“One day, I will kill him,” he whispered.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t enjoying this a little. Jinyoung huffed and turned back to you.

“Eat your breakfast.”

He rolled the suitcase down the hall to the spare bathroom and shut the door. In a much better mood than how you woke up, you picked your silverware back up and ate happily away. If Jinyoung ever got on your nerves, you knew exactly who to contact.

#got7 #got7 bodyguard au #got7 bodyguard!au #jinyoung x reader #got7 x reader #park jinyoung #got7 series #got7 fanfiction #got7 fanfic #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #mark tuan #choi youngjae #bambam #yugyeom #Bottom of the Glass

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lovelucybradford · 3 years

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I Pretend You’re Mine (4)

A/N: Hi all! I know it’s been a while. Unfortunately adulting sucks and I was so caught up in my work situations that I had no more left to give. Thankfully, the writer’s block has gone away (for now). I planned to have this up on Valentine’s Day, butttt *writer’s block*. So, to make up for it, I’m (hopefully) giving you two chapters this weekend. Chapter five is a continuation of four; it was just so long that I decided to split it into two parts. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for all the love!

Masterlist

Tags: @empath-bunny

@ityagirljay

@wolfarrowepz

@supernatural-crazed-girl

Chapter Four: Drag Me Headfirst, Fearless

As soon as the plane landed on the tarmac in sunny Florida, the reality of Rosalie’s upcoming situation had hit her like a freight train. She’d been a nervous wreck since. Rosalie jiggled her leg so much on the Uber ride to the port of call that Stiles, the human form of the Energizer bunny, had placed a hand on her knee and urged her to stop. At that point, Rose figured she’d better cool it before she completely lost her resolve and ‘jumped ship’, so to speak.

So, Rosalie began listing things that she could count on in an attempt to center herself. It was something that the woman had been taught and perfected over many years of intense therapy sessions. She rattled off the list in her mind as she concentrated on the quickly passing palm trees on the side of the highway.

Things That Rosalie Could Count on For the Trip from Hell:

One: Knowing Rosalie’s stepmother Evelyn, who made her career out of creating high-class soirees such as this, everything would be meticulously planned out, down to the minute. If it were up to her, she’d even plan the times that they could use the toilet.

Two: Rosalie would most likely be the talk of the event, until the gossip hounds found something, or someone, juicier to bite into. The last time that she had seen the relatives, all twenty of them (minus her Uncle Joe and Aunt Natalie, who wanted nothing to do with her father), was three days before Drew and Rose had their untimely breakup. Drew, who was more family to them than Rosalie ever was.

Luckily, if she had to go through hell, at least…

Three: Rosalie’s support system would be with her 100%. She had Lydia to give reassuring hand squeezes and the family subtle insults. Her brother Levi who, as much of a jackass that he could be, would defend his sister’s honor to the (metaphorical) death. Stiles and Rose would lounge around the open bar and mock her Uncle Tom as he attempted to ‘dance’, or Aunt Sarah who would undoubtedly flirt with Derek.

Derek… Rose’s confidante, her best friend, her anchor, who hadn’t spoken a word since they stepped foot on the extravagant vessel.

Rosalie could chalk it up to being so breath taken from the scenery that Derek had nothing to say. Even Stiles had repeatedly commented “Holy shit this is so bougie” ten times in the last five minutes. (Not that she couldn’t agree. Her father Jason was the poster child for ‘go big or go home’) To be fair, it was beautiful. The atrium was adorned floor to ceiling in shades of gold, a large diamond chandelier smack in between two beautiful staircases.

Staircases that gave Rosalie an eerie sense of déjà vu. Only because she had seen something bearing a high resemblance to them in a movie featuring her fictional doppelgänger, a fellow redhead who shared Rose’s name.

Part of her wondered if this was her father’s idea of a sick joke. Rosalie had always said that Drew and her were ‘Jack and Rose’. Turns out Drew was more of a Cal Hockley than a Jack Dawson. As for Rosalie, she was still Rose, forever searching in that freezing sea for her Jack. She should have known that she and Drew were doomed to sink beneath the waves.

Sink beneath the waves… Rosalie’s heart began to pound faster as she grabbed ahold of Lydia’s wrist, relying on her cousin to guide her through the maze of humans and staircases to the staterooms.

Derek and Stiles walked ahead of the two, the former’s back stiff with tension.

Was he predicting, too, that this plan of theirs would go down like the Titanic?

Or was he dreading playing Rosalie’s lover in front of a ship full of pompous asses and the occasional normal person?

Derek normally exuded confidence, from the strong set of his jaw to the way that he entered a room. At that moment, he looked more like a frightened schoolboy than a man with enough swagger for their whole friend group.

His blatant anxiety just heightened Rosalie’s. Before she could really process it, Lydia was pulling her arm away and gently shaking Rose’s shoulder.

“Rose? Rosalie!”

Rosalie shook her head, clearing her thoughts and focusing on the hazel of Lydia’s eyes. “Hmm? Sorry.”

Lydia let out a puff of air, blowing upwards the tendrils of hair that weren’t securely fastened in her high ponytail. “We’re here. Go settle in and we’ll meet you in a bit.”

Lydia then shoved Rosalie towards Derek, who caught her with a hand on her elbow. He took the key card from Rose’s sweaty palm and slid it into the slot on the handle, opening the door to a stateroom with a balcony overlooking the crystal sea. The stateroom… with one bed.

Rosalie tried not to hyperventilate thinking that Derek and she had to share that.

“You can take the bed,” Derek commented as soon as he too laid eyes on it.

Rose ignored him, deciding to handle that situation later, flopping full-bodied onto the plush mattress. The white comforter smelled like a swift ocean breeze, and she couldn’t help but press her nose further into it.

“What is it with you and smelling things today?” Derek chuckled.

Rosalie threw a nearby pillow at him, her face still buried in the bed. “Shut up, asshole.”

The bed shifted to the right of where she lied, the fabric dipping a foot away. That made her feel better. At least if they had to share it like when they were kids, there would be enough space between the two of them so that things wouldn’t happen. Which Rosalie would make sure of. Well, sober her would make sure of it. Drunk her could not be trusted.

“I didn’t hear a word you said, but I assume it was something along the lines of ‘you’re an asshole.”

Rose rolled onto her side. “Close, but no dice…” She lost the train of thought as her eyes caught on a glittering cardstock pamphlet lying between the two of them.

Martin Family Reunion 2019

Day 1: Thursday, June 13th

5:00 pm- Disembark from Cape Canaveral

7:00 pm- Welcome Cocktails in the Stardust Lounge, Deck 6

All must attend.

Proper Cocktail Attire required for entry.

Rosalie groaned so loudly that a masculine laugh resounded from the other side of the wall.

“What?” Derek responded to his friend’s displeasure. Without a word, the woman passed him the pamphlet, watching out of the corner of her eye as his beautiful olive eyes took in the itinerary. His face contorted into a sour expression, and he put down the paper at once.

With a pat to Rose’s thigh, Derek got up from the bed and grabbed his wallet and the aviator sunglasses that were resting on the vanity table. Her eyes followed his form, waiting for some kind of explanation as to where in the hell he thought he was going.

“You and Lydia have fun getting ready. Stiles and I are going down to that bar we saw in the atrium.”

Rosalie gaped, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Wh—what? What about—”

“Would you chill? I’ll be back before seven. I need a drink before I see The Stepford Family.”

Rosalie snorted rather unattractively at Derek’s choice nickname for her father and his new family. Evelyn and her daughters certainly were like characters dragged out of The Stepford Wives film.

Derek was about to leave the room, when he paused, two fingertips grazing the golden door handle. He turned his body slightly to face Rose, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“It’s all-inclusive, right? Everything we buy with the key card goes on his tab?”

She assumed that by ‘his’, Derek meant her father, Jason.

“Yup,” Rosalie replied, popping the ‘p’.

“In that case, I’ll make sure to get the most expensive liquor that they have,” Derek smiled deviously, lazily waving the golden keycard.

She was momentarily distracted by his pretty face, and the familiar but unwanted fluttering in her stomach. By the time Rosalie snapped out of her thirstiness, he was gone.

__________________

Rosalie stumbled in her Louboutin’s for the sixth time, looking quite like the person who’d had three shots of Whiskey that was bottled before she was born.

Derek, the one who actually had, so smoothly wrapped his arm around Rose’s waist for support. The heat of his palm warmed her skin, even through the mint green cocktail dress she was wearing, but it was the last thing on her mind.

With every step that they took towards the wooden double doors at the entrance of the Stardust Lounge, the more Rose’s stomach churned, and her vision blurred. Eventually, her heart pounding through her ribcage was the only sound that Rosalie could hear.

Rosalie stopped abruptly, frantically searching for a bathroom, for a garbage can, for a balcony that she could jump off of.

Derek continued walking but was pulled back by the hand that was grasping Rose’s still figure.

“I can’t do this. Oh god, I can’t do this. I think I’m going to throw up,” she breathed shallowly, the urge to vomit slowly creeping up her throat. Rose hastily removed Derek’s grip from her waist, struggling to find her balance, and teetered towards the opposite wall. Before she could go very far, Derek’s rough hand was in hers, squeezing it in a likely attempt to bring Rosalie back to center.

“What?” She heard Lydia begin, but Derek had silenced Lydia instantly with a rushed command of “Go, stall for us. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Hold your breath, Rosie!” Stiles called as Derek led a dazed Rosalie to a cream-tiled room.

Stiles’ advice brought Rose back to the time, years ago, when Lydia had told her that she’d kissed Stiles mid panic attack after his dad was shot pursuing a perp.

“When I kissed you, you held your breath,” Lydia had said to Stiles.

Rosalie had thought it romantic at the time. So romantic. But she prayed that Derek didn’t try that trick on her. Rose couldn’t handle it, not when…

Derek grabbed hold of either side of Rosalie’s face with both hands, forcing her to look at him.

“Rose. Rosie! Look at me. Breathe,”

His face so close to hers just made her breathing speed up, not slow like he intended.

“Fuck Rosalie,” Derek voiced, sounding almost as breathless as his best friend.

He nodded once, then took a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, his eyes never leaving Rosalie’s tear-stained face. “Breathe with me, babe. In, out.”

She tried to follow his lead, but only to appease him. Rosalie couldn’t stand that desperate look in his eyes, the frantic shifting of his gaze, or the tense set of his jaw. The thought of him being in pain like that, even emotional pain,it physically hurt her.

“Good. Good, Rosie. Keep going.”

She took a few more breaths through her nose, the world-ending feeling lessening with each exhale.

“You good?” Derek questioned, his thumb rubbing lightly up and down the woman’s cheek.

Rosalie nodded softly, still not having the breath to voice any thoughts.

She leaned back on the countertop, feeling the coolness of the tile and the mirror behind her. Rose hadn’t noticed before, but they were hiding from the family in a large single bathroom. Rosalie laughed to herself. It wasn’t the first time that she’d had a mental breakdown next to a toilet. And it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Thanks,” Rose commented hoarsely, not daring to look at Derek in fear of what he might think of her. Weak was the only word that came to mind. “Sorry for freaking out. Never thought you’d have to console someone in a bathroom, did you?”

Derek snorted, and Rose’s heart dropped a bit at the sound, thinking that he was mocking her. “Actually, you’re not the first crying woman that I’ve held in a cramped bathroom.”

She raised one brow at him, a wordless cue to elaborate.

“I may or may not have had a girlfriend with a pregnancy scare back in college.”

“Of course, you did,” Rosalie said before she could really think about it, heart once more dipping in her chest. What was she thinking, pretending to be engaged to someone like Derek Hale?

Derek Hale, who could have any woman he wanted. Who would think that he would settle for someone as quiet and average as Rosalie?

“Hey.” Derek stepped in front of her, further away than he was minutes ago, but not by much. “Never apologize for being human, for having feelings and fears. Especially not to me.”

All Rosalie could manage was a small smile, to which he reciprocated with one of his own.

“You’re still the strongest woman I know. Stronger than Cora, stronger than mom—”

“I don’t know about that,” she replied playfully.

Derek rolled his eyes and continued on with his motivational speech, every word loosening the tense muscles in her shoulders. “Yes, even my mom. But don’t tell her I said that. Hey, if you’re worried about your family, then fuck them. They should be thankful that you’re even here after all the shit they threw at you.”

Rosalie nodded, fingers playing absently with the sapphire ring on her left hand—thinking about the last time she had worn a diamond on the same finger. And the man that put it there. Who took it so easily and put it on someone else. Not just someone else: Ashleigh.

“No, I can see it in your face. You’re worried about seeing Drew again, aren’t you?”

Damn him for being so perceptive, and for knowing her so well. Rosalie went to deny it but found that she couldn’t lie to him.

“You know what, we’ll walk in there, I’ll see him, and you know what I’ll say?”

He was smiling again, grinning ear to ear like he thought he was hilarious. It was so rare to see him like that that she humored him just to keep that smile on his face.

“And what will you say, may I ask?”

“’Me thinks thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee.’”

Rosalie couldn’t help herself as her head swung back in a fit of giggles. “Oh my God, Derek Hale. You are such a dork.”

“Ah,” he countered, holding up a finger, “You can’t say that. Not when you totally got my joke.”

Rosalie beamed up at him. “Ok, fine. We’re both dorks. Happy, Derek the Bard?”

“Yes, princess. I’m enthused. You ready to go?” Derek gestured with a thumb towards the door. The door that lead to the hallway. The hallway to the Starboard Lounge, where all of Rosalie’s family would stare at her like she was some rare creature on the auction block.

“No,” Rose said weakly.

Derek rolled his eyes again, a look that Rose was more familiar with than the Cheshire Cat grin that previously lit up his face. “Yes, you are.”

Rosalie stared at herself in the large, lighted mirror, checking over her face and hair for damages. Trust Rose’s family to point out a single flaw in her appearance. She looked mostly put together, save for the tiny specks of black mascara under her eyes and the slightly faded red lipstick. Rose grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, wetting it and dabbing under her eyes until all of the mascara smears disappeared.

Satisfied, Rosalie tossed the towel in the garbage bin and grabbed her clutch. “Do I look okay?”

Derek’s eyes swept her form, taking in everything from the pale white of Rosalie’s untanned legs to the lace of her dress, to the retro curls in her hair. She suddenly felt self-conscious, even more so when Derek stayed silent.

Rose nudged him with her elbow, hoping he would say something, anything, and end this deafening silence. His eyes flicked back towards Rosalie. “You look beautiful.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that she knew he was just saying that because he’s her best friend and he has to.

“I mean it, Rosalie,” Derek added firmly.

“What about me? Do I look good enough to fit in with high-society?” Derek asked, hand sweeping down his body.

Rosalie took it as an unashamed excuse to study him. The unbuttoned suit jacket that he wore hugged his biceps so nicely that it was hard to not stare at them for too long. The white shirt under it was buttoned, except for the two closest to the top that were left open to show a peek of dark chest hair.

In short, he looked like a snack, and damn was Rosalie hungry. Not that she could tell him that, of course. So, she just repeated what he already knew. “Of course. You know you’re hot.”

Derek’s eyes widened, his ears turning slightly pink. “You think I’m hot?”

“You think you’re hot.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Um, yes you do. You get that look on your face when you’re flirting with girls like ‘I’m sexy and I know it.’”

“God, that was one time Rosalie! It guess I will never live it down.”

Rosalie snickered at the memory. “No, you won’t. Now be a good pretend fiancé and help me walk.”

“Why the hell are you wearing those stilettos if you can’t even walk in them?”

“Lydia made me.”

Derek said nothing, knowing that there was no arguing with Lydia Martin. He offered his friend his arm, ever the gentleman. In turn, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, trying not to get too distracted by the muscle under it.

#derek hale fic #derek hale x oc #derek hale fluff #derek hale #tyler hoechlin #teen wolf

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bigasswritingmagnet · 3 years

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When History Comes Calling Ch 6/14

art by @snuffes

Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Teen Pairing: none, some background Fshep/Garrus

Summary: In 2170, Mindoir was attacked by slavers. Hundreds were taken captive, hundreds more were slaughtered. Kiryn was the only Shepard to make it out alive. For years, he buried his grief, kept his head high, and did whatever he needed to survive.He survived Mindoir and the batarians and when the Reapers came he survived them too.

But when the war ends and he escapes his batarian masters to the Citadel, the discovery that his twin sister is alive and well might just be the thing that breaks him. The Hegemony's greatest assassin will remember what it means to have something to lose.

AO3 link in notes! “How come Joker gets a whole bed and I have to sleep on a couch?”

“Because I have brittle bone disease, and you once won hand to hand combat with a krogan.”

“I have to sleep on a couch too, and I’m not complaining.”

“Because you fit on a couch, Esteban. You’re couch sized.”

“You could ask Garrus if you can bunk with him.”

“No thanks. I’ve been shot all the times I want.”

A faint pinging noise.

“Shepard says if we don’t bring breakfast in ten minutes she starts breaking windows.”

“Ah jeez. Garrus! Come on! We gotta go before Shepard pisses off the nurses again!”

“I hope they let her out soon, I don’t know how much more of her that hospital can take.”

“Well the doctor says…”

The voices faded as the speakers passed out of the bug’s range. Kiryn very nearly scowled in his frustration. This was the third time he’d missed out on information of Keris’ medical status.

He needed to get more listening devices. One for every room of that stupid, oversized cavern of an apartment. Nobody ever stayed put when they started a conversation, even an important one. He never should have wasted one in the office. Nobody spent any time in there, because it was Keris’ office, and she was in the hospital.

The kitchen had been a good call, but apparently people had conversations about highly confidential top secret Alliance projects anywhere they damn well pleased, up to and including the bathroom. Weren’t these people supposed to be professionals? One of them was the Shadow Broker for crying out loud.

The emails had been worse than disappointing. They had been concerning. Not in content, but in quantity. He had expected the bulk of his sister’s communication to be work related. But out of an entire year’s worth of correspondence, barely fifty of them had been entirely unrelated to her work. At least they had been relatively positive messages, mostly requests to spend time together in a non-combat situation. He just hoped Keris had taken them all up on that offer. She never seemed to reply to the emails she got.

Kiryn sat up, startling the man on the other bed. He wasn’t sure what to make of the man, who went by Tucker. He couldn't possibly know Kiryn's reputation - he was from a colony just outside Alliance space, and this was the farthest he'd ever been from home. He'd been a beet farmer, of all things.

Kiryn had never threatened him. In fact, Kiryn barely spoke to the man. He spent most of his time staring silently at the ceiling, listening to the conversations via his listening devices. Tucker couldn't hear anything, Kiryn had made sure, so there was no way that was worrying him.Kiryn was never rude or angry or moody; he kept up his neutral expression as he always did, showing no emotions whatsoever.

So why on earth was Tucker so afraid of him?

“Good morning,” he said.

“Mmhmm,” Tucker said, dropping the datapads he’d been trying to sort. He started to retrieve them, only to drop them again when Kiryn stood up. Kiryn stared at him, trying to think of something to say that would reassure the man. The only thing that really came to mind was “don’t worry I only kill people for money and I promise I wouldn’t take a contract on you if anyone offered it”-- and Kiryn suspected that wasn’t quite going to cut it.

“Have a nice day,” he said, finally. Tucker shrank away from him as he slipped out the door. What a strange man.

As obsessive as C-Sec was about keeping tabs on the refugees, they sure weren't doing a very good job of watching all the possible ways in and out. This had been a loading dock, which meant there were all sorts of service entrances. Sure, those doors were locked, but they used the same keycards as the open entrances. All Kiryn had had to do was get his hands on a security pass -- neatly snagged off a passing officer too busy talking on his omnitool -- and he could come and go as he pleased. There was one door that the cameras didn't quite reach, around a corner the guards didn't bother to keep an eye on.

Kiryn was becoming quite fond of C-Sec, in a condescending sort of way. Bless their little hearts, they tried so hard. If Kiryn had been interested in doing any real damage, they'd never catch him until it was far, far too late. Truly it was fortunate that everyone was too busy trying to get themselves sorted out to even think about the kinds of political maneuverings that required murder.

He found that he enjoyed exploring the Citadel. So much of it was a novelty: being able to disappear so easily into the crowd, not needing to keep constant watch for security systems or guards, to keep to his own schedule rather than that of his target, to just casually be . He could go into a store that caught his interest without a purpose, or sit on a bench and watch people go by, or even just meander aimlessly around with no destination in mind.

Perhaps this was what it meant to enjoy freedom.

He didn't even need to be efficient when he did have a goal in mind. He could go to the wards and find the quiet little shop that discreetly sold the tools of his trade, buy some more listening devices, and take himself up to the Presidium for lunch before heading back to Keris' apartment. No rush at all, so long as he got there before visiting hours ended. He'd been listening in for long enough to get a good sense of everyone's schedules. They tended to take shifts at the hospital with Keris, but they also had their own jobs to do. In general, the apartment was all but guaranteed to be empty between 10 am and 3pm.

"I'm getting a little worried about you, Garrus," said Tali'zorah vas Normandy, and Kiryn nearly choked on his noodles. Reaching out to grab a napkin, he turned the silver holder until he could see beside him. Only one seat away, three of Keris' friends were sitting down to lunch.

Of all the worst luck... He hunched his shoulders and tried to be as invisible as possible. They don't know what you look like, he tried to remind himself. For that matter, they didn't even know anyone had been in Keris' apartment. They weren't looking for anyone. But if they did figure it out, he couldn't risk someone looking at the security cameras and remembering the guy at the noodle place.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine," said Garrus Vakarian, the turian his sister was, actually, as a matter of fact, dating for real. Kiryn still hadn’t figured out what to think about that.

"No, Tali's right. You spend every minute you can in the hospital." James Vega was even bigger than he sounded.

"Where else should I be?" Vakarian snapped. Kiryn watched his reflection jab irritably at the electronic menu. "I can do my work from there just fine."

"I know," Tali’zorah said, gently, "but you don't do anything else. Or go anywhere else. At all."

"You want me to just leave her in there alone?" There were even fewer turians in batarian space than there were humans, so Kiryn wasn't as good at reading them, especially when distorted by a reflection. But even he could hear anxiety pretending to be anger when he heard it.

"C'mon, Scars, we're not saying you should never visit her. But she's not going anywhere. She's fine now, she said so herself."

"She said she was fine when she was barely out of the coma, too," Vakarian said. "After what happened last week, you still think she's fine?"

Last week? What had happened last week? Nobody had said anything last week. Unless they'd said it out of range of the listening devices. His hand tightened on his chopsticks, his ears straining to pick up every word over the bustle of the crowd.

"It was just a bad reaction to the medication. The doctors fixed it."

"And if she has a bad reaction to this stuff too? What then?"

Kiryn tried to remember to keep eating, to just blend in, be another member of the crowd. Everything suddenly tasted foul; it was hard to swallow. He agreed with Vakarian whole-heartedly. A mental image of Keris sitting small and alone in a dark hospital room, flashed across his mind. Just the thought made him feel cold. These were supposed to be her friends!

"Hey, can you pass the soy sauce?"

The voice was so unexpected Kiryn looked up. He turned away again, but the damage had been done. Vega had seen his face. Kiryn slid the bottle over, muttering something, trying to look engaged with his soup.

"Hey, do I know you? You look real familiar, man."

No. No, no, no, no.

He shook his head, his stomach twisting into knots.

"Military, right?" Shit . "I was stationed out on Arcturus Prime a few years back; were you ever out that way?"

Kiryn shook his head firmly and stood.

"No."

"But--"

Kiryn turned quickly and left, knowing this was suspicious, thinking of a thousand better ways he could have handled it... but his heart was thudding against his ribs so hard he couldn't breathe.

He should hold off on going back to Keris' apartment for a few days, until the incident had faded from their minds. He wasn't going to. The reminder of just how much information he was missing was not one he could easily put aside. What if Vakarian was right, and something did happen and Kiryn never knew about it?

He would just need to be quick, and careful.

This time he did not go in the front door, even though he knew the code. He could not risk being seen by the cameras out front. But he'd had a chance to get his hands on blueprints of Tiberius Towers and the buildings beside it. There was a parking garage beneath them. All three had access.

He walked faster than he should have. The adrenaline and something tight in his chest he couldn't understand drove him on. He found the elevator and stairwell. He took the stairs, but only two flights. There was the opening to the air vents. Unpleasant, slow, and difficult, but much, much safer. No risk of being seen. He could be absolutely sure no one was in the apartment before he entered.

The added bonus was that it forced him to slow down. He had to focus on making as little sound as possible, regulating his breathing, and counting the floors as he went. The cold air in the vent went a long way to clearing his mind. By the time he was high up enough, his heartbeat had slowed and he could think straight again, although he still couldn’t shake that tightness in his chest.

It had been an unfortunate coincidence, and he hadn’t handled it well. However, given that no one knew about the bugs, no one was on the alert for any strange behavior. As far as they knew, he was just a weird guy at the ramen place. Right? Right.

So just calm down and get a grip. Everything was fine.

There was a series of laser tripwires criss-crossing the vents leading to Keris’ apartment. Before he could pull up his omnitool and figure out how to deactivate them, they turned off. That was….weird. He checked their schematics and found that they had genetic sequence readers, just like the door. They didn’t seem to be set to track any coming and goings. The alarm was simply wired not to go off when certain people went by. And apparently the readers weren’t very advanced, if 50% was close enough to do it.

It might have been making his life more convenient, but he wasn’t any less annoyed at how slipshod Keris’ security system was. She should really know better.

Kyrin had a lot of little tools in his kit, things that weren’t necessary but made his job easier. Some were quite specialised. You couldn’t get past everything with an omnitool. Of particular use was a device that looked almost like something you’d find at a dentist’s office, which was able to unscrew things from around a corner. Like, say, the screws to a vent cover from inside the vent.

Kiryn was at the top of his field for many reasons. His physical prowess and tactical skill made him one of the best. But there were two things that made him the best: he minded the little details, and he always always managed his escape routes as he went. It was for this reason that, despite his urgency, he took the time to strip the screws and glue them into place on the vent cover, so he could come and go with ease.

This time he was not going to dawdle. In, plant the bugs, get out. He’d go to the wards and find a hotel that charged by the hour, ridiculous or not, and work on his sniper rifle. That would make him feel better. Or at least calmer.

He put a bug in every room in the apartment, every hallway. Under every couch, the poker table, the conference table, hidden in the branches of a tree, at the bottom of a painting. One in the bar, at the far back where it couldn’t be seen.

Nothing was ever going to happen to Keris that Kiryn did not know about. Not anymore.

#mass effect #commander shepard #femshep #dudeshep #twin au #alternate universe fic

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el-michoacano · 3 years

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Make the Yuletide Gay

A little Kavinsky and Prokopenko for Christmas! What else could anyone ask for?

"Your nose is all pink." His own was, too, Proko knew, but it was far cuter on K.

K, alas, was not amused, pulling his coat tighter around himself and muttering, "Fuck you."

Proko's startled laughter came on a puff of fog, soft yet still too loud in the empty Aglionby courtyard, echoing off the snow and into the sky.

It wasn't that odd a situation, really: K with one cold hand around Proko's slender wrist, leading him through the snow drifts towards the school.

The oddity lay in the fact that it was the moon and a star-studded sky above them, the campus empty of boys and staff and life.

It was creepy, and half to distract himself, Proko pointed out, "It was your idea to come here." K glared at him for that, the bottom half of his face hidden beneath his high-zipped collar. "What are we even doing?"

Then, clearly reluctant to do so, K unzipped his coat a bit, saying, "There's something in the teacher's lounge I want." Despite his chattering teeth, he managed a presentable smirk. "And if I want something, I take it."

Shivering with something that was definitely not the cold, Proko stepped closer, asking, "What is it?"

A cold-lipped kiss to distract him, and K pulled him up to the side door of the school's primary building.

Softly, huddling against K's back, Proko asked, "How are you gonna get past the scanner?"

K simply pulled a keycard from the pocket of his coat.

To Proko's amazement, when he ran it through the scanner, the lock of the door quietly clicked open. "Did you dream it?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Didn't need to," K said as he pushed the door open and stepped onto the tile of the floor, not bothering to stomp the snow from his shoes. "There's nobody you can't buy off for the right price."

Though Proko's eyes rolled, he followed K just the same, the tile squeaking a bit beneath his damp sneakers.

The hall they were in was part of the administration wing, Proko was sure. He'd only been there as a witness to K and Jiang's infractions, but he was positive the large, grandly carved door at the far end of the hall was the Dean's office. The nearest door led into the secretarial office, and the one between opened into the teacher's lounge.

"Do you need another key?" Proko asked, keeping his voice soft as they crept down the corridor.

"Jiang's snuck in here before." A thousand times over, Proko knew. It was required for Jiang's hobby of stealing and selling exam answer keys. "He says it's never locked." Grabbing at the brassy knob and turning, indeed finding it unlocked, K stepped into the lounger, saying to Proko, "Stand watch." He closed the door behind himself.

The hall was pitch dark, and Proko pulled his cellphone from his pocket, activating the flashlight and just listening.

There was a sharp sound from inside the lounge, an obnoxious scraping noise, like a chair being dragged across the tiled floor. Biting at his lower lip, Proko sighed to himself, crossing his arms over his chest.

At the far end of the hall was a tall window, snowflakes and their shadows raining down and tapping softly at the glass.

Nervously wetting his winter-chapped lips, Proko tucked his face down into the damp cashmere of his scarf.

The footsteps in the lounge were giving him goosebumps.

The footsteps in the hall were worse, and Proko darted into the lounge, pressing his back to the door and whispering, "Someone's coming!"

Cursing under his breath, still perched on the chair he had apparently pulled forth earlier, K pocketed his prize, asking, "You sure?" Proko could only nod. It seemed enough for K, and he hopped off the chair and grabbing at Proko's wrist, dragged him to the line of windows at the back of the room. "You afraid of heights?" he asked as he pushed a window open, snow fluttering in to melt on the tile.

It was a challenge, of course, and if there was one thing Ilya Prokopenko could never resist, it was a challenge.

He was, naturally, the one to jump first.

With a great, heavy fwump, he fell into a pile of fresh snow. Proko was immensely grateful that the window was only a few feet up. He was not at all grateful when K landed on top of him, laughing wildly as he tried to find his feet.

Squirming out from under K's meager weight, Proko grabbed at the other boy's wrists, pulling him through the snow, a flashlight beam hot on their heels, though its source was nowhere in sight.

Winter air heavy in his lungs, they crossed the campus through wind and snowflakes and starlight, and Proko swiped his keycard when they reached the dorms, slamming the door behind them despite the hour, K leaning heavily on his shoulder, cackling and struggling for breath.

Smiling and running a hand through his snow-damp hair, Proko asked, "You got it, right?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Heading up the stairs and down the empty hallway, Proko unlocked the door that led to his and Swan's room, not bothering to keep quiet. Swan, after all, slept like the dead. It was more convenient than annoying.

Kicking off his wet shoes and tossing his coat to the floor, K flopped down on Proko's bed, burrowing under the covers and shooting Proko a look that beckoned him to do the same.

Proko, of course, did so.

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, K retrieved a little bundle of green and red, smirking when Proko laughed at him.

"Mistletoe, K?" The words came on a soft, pretty giggle. "Seriously?"

"Yep." K sounded hugely pleased with himself.

"You couldn't have just dreamt it?" Proko didn't sound at all bothered, cuddling close and resting his head on K's shoulder.

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Oh, yeah, 'cause breaking and entering, burglary and risking expulsion is great fun."

Rolling his eyes, K quipped, "Turn off the sarcasm, babe."

"You like it."

Tossing one leg over Proko's hips, K lifted the mistletoe sprig above them, smirking enticingly, and Proko flushed a bit. "You like this."

Proko didn't bother denying it, saying instead, "You don't need mistletoe to kiss me, K."

"I know."

K kissed him under the mistletoe anyway.

As usual, I’m tagging @dkafterdark, @localdreamthing and @glitterghost

#kavinsky #joseph kavinsky #ilya prokopenko #prokopenko #prokopinsky #the raven cycle #trc #the dream thieves #tdt #the dream pack #dream pack #my writing

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imaginesblvd · 4 years

Text

Title: Talk

Eric Coulter x reader

“Stop being grumpy, it’s lame” from Sentence starter prompt list

You squint at Eric from across the room. He’s annoyed and you can understand why. The fight before him is boring, they’re just dancing around each other, not really throwing any hits. You look to your own set of initiates, they’re sluggish but still doing their best at fighting each other. You can’t stand it, they’re tired, you’re tired so why not call it quits for today? They’re all sitting exactly where they should be on the ranking board.

“Okay! That’s it for today, go relax or whatever” You smile as they let out a sigh of relief

You look back over at Eric and he glaring at you. You nod for him to come over, he huffs but walks over. He barks out an order for the two to keep fighting, and that they’re not leaving until one of them is knocked down or knocked out. You wonder if he’d be upset if you took those two initiates aside and told them that at their rate they’re looking to be factionless. That they’re gonna have to do better. He would definitely be angry, not just upset, it’s not like he's coming over here and telling you to be harder on your group, to stop treating them kids.

“What?” He grumbles out as he stands next to you

“Did you want to head out? We could make sure everything is in order for capture the flag tomorrow?” You ask with a hopeful smile on your face, he looks down at you a brow raised

“Why would we do that?” He asks as he glances over at the two that are finally punching each other

“Stop being grumpy, it’s lame” You fiddle with your zipper “Give them a break, let’s go check on the stuff for tomorrow” You plead and he looks down at you, his stoic stare causes you to shift nervously on your feet

He huffs before calling out to the initiates to get lost. You can’t help but laugh a little, as he nods for you to lead the way. You look back at the group scrambling to race out of the training room. You don’t have to check on things cause you know they’ll be ready for tomorrow you just want to spend time with him. He’s not the greatest company but he does try and that’s all you can expect from him. He’s one of your good friends, even before you both became leaders. He would help you out every now and again, so you just sort of clung to him.

“Why do you treat them like that? Is that some learning technique, I missed out on?” You ask as you scan your keycard over the lock of the door

“Just keeps them in line” He says with a shrug

“Huh, you think I can do that? Brood and demand?” You ask as you turn to face him with a glare, you’re sure couldn’t even match the one he wears

He licks his lip, and reaches for one of the guns that are laid out. He checks it over as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Is he scared he’s gonna hurt your feelings? You are asking an honest question, that would require an honest answer. Does he think you won’t be able to take the answer? You pick up one of the bullets to look it over.

“You’re too nice” He finally says, and you almost drop the bullet in your hand

��What? No I’m not, I can be mean, I can glare better than you” You snap, and his smile tells you he’s not buying it

He puts the gun down, and reaches for the bullet. He takes it from your hands and puts it back onto the table. You cross your arms over your chest. You can be mean, you’ve been mean. He knows this, he’s seen you snap at someone for being stupid. Then again you felt bad after, he had to talk you out of finding that person just so you could apologize. Maybe you are too nice.

“It’s a good thing, we balance each other out” He leans back against the table “I’m not saying you can’t be mean, I bring out your bad side, and you bring out the good in me”

“I thought I didn’t have a bad side” You brows furrowed in confusion

“I said you were too nice, not that you didn’t have a bad side, I saw it when we were both initiates” he says “remember when I shot you with one of those?” you nod “people don’t usually scare me but when you found me after that match just to chew me out about watching my aim, that gave me quite the scare”

“Your aim got better after that” You say with a smirk, and he chuckles softly

“It did, didn’t it?” he smiles

You both spend another few minutes just looking over everything, something that was done before you both even stepped foot in here. Then you spent a few minutes just talking back and forth about your initiate weeks, before you even knew it, hours had passed. The both of you keeping the conversation going, or just enjoying the company of each other. When one of you would try to wrap up one of you would bring up another topic, just to keep the other there as long as you can.

#divergent imagine #divergent imagines #divergent drabble #divergent oneshot #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter imagines #eric coulter x y/n #eric coulter drabble #eric coulter one shot #eric divergent drabble #eric divergent x reader #eric divergent imagine

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mendespideys · 4 years

Text

room service | s.m.

summary: y/n can’t stop thinking about the man she met in the lobby and it seems like he can’t stop thinking of her either

a/n: when i posted this on my shawn blog, lots of people wanted a part 2 so i delievered! hope it’s not as disappointing to you as i feel it is

Your eyes flickered open before your alarm and the exaggerated groan leaving your lips echoed throughout the empty room. Mindlessly, you fumble around for your phone, finally finding it hidden away in the bottom shelf of the nightstand. The room was almost gloomy and you realized when staring at your (very) bright phone screen that you had yet another three hours before you had to wake up. Attempting to ignore the ache in your lower back, you sat up, running a hand through your unkempt hair.

It hadn’t taken you long to realize that sleeping in the bed right next to the AC unit would be impossible, so you had reluctantly gotten comfortable on the floor on the opposite side of the room. Well, comfortable was an overstatement. Your entire body felt stiff and you suspected the backache wouldn’t disappear anytime soon, but you had been able to get at least a couple more hours of sleep. You stretched animatedly, your stiff limbs cracking at the sudden movements.

A few minutes later, you found yourself in a steaming hot shower, desperately hoping the warm water would aid in loosening up your rigid muscles. As the water soaked your hair and body, doing its job of warming up the cold blood coursing through your veins, you began planning your angry complaint. After washing your hair and body, you still hadn’t made it any further than ‘Either I get a refund or I speak to your supervisor’ and you desperately wished you had taken Shawn up on his offer.

Your mind wandered to the previous night (early morning?) immediately as soon as he entered your stream of thoughts. Soon enough, that was all you could think about, the rant long-forgotten. Shawn’s tired, yet glimmering eyes seemed to be the main attraction of your thoughts. There had been something swimming within them that you hadn’t been able to place, but that you desperately yearned to explore. Despite not knowing him, there was something about his whole persona - and his cozy outfit - that made you want to cuddle him and talk about life’s big questions.

Only when the water got colder did you realize how long you had been in the shower. Turning off the water, you grabbed the provided hotel towel and stepped out. Eventually, you were finally dressed and ready to go, still with another two hours to spare before your meeting. You were debating whether to take advantage of the free, but limited hotel breakfast or talk to the working receptionist when your stomach cried out, easily making that decision for you. Snatching your phone and keycard off the nightstand, you headed toward the front door, hoping the breakfast they offered was better than their customer service. You were about to open the door when a knock echoed throughout the room.

Opening the door suspiciously, you weren’t sure how to react. A man stood outside, a cart decorated with various dishes in front of him. As he smiled down at you, you caught a whiff of the food hiding underneath the small, silver dome, increasing your hunger instantly. You had a nice job that paid decent money, but never had you bothered paying the extra money for room service at a hotel. The delicious smells that entered your nose made you wish you had, though. You were about to tell him that he more than likely had the wrong room when he said your name, wanting to confirm that the right person would receive the food that had been ordered.

After a minute of interrogating from your side, you were left alone in your room with a cart full of breakfast options as your only guest. You maneuvered it over to the bed, your eyes hungrily scrambling over the food displayed out on the cart. Plopping down on the bed, you reached forward to uncover the food, only coming to halt as something tickled your wrist. Realizing it was a folded piece of paper, your fingers let go of the cloche, reaching for the note instead. For a reason, unbeknownst to you, your heart began thumping louder in your chest as you fumbled with the paper, finally being able to open it.

got you some breakfast so you have the strength to stand up to the hotel bullies. hope your meeting goes well x - shawn

By the time you were finished reading the sweet, short note, there was an undeniable grin playing on your lips. You placed it on the bed, not wanting it to get lost before your hunger took control of your actions. Removing the only obstacle between you and the food, you leaned in closer, your mouth watering at the sight. You assumed he had ordered various dishes because he wasn’t sure what you liked, which made the whole thing even sweeter - if even possible. There were waffles, toast, fruit, quinoa; the options were endless and apparently, so was your hunger.

When you were done indulging in the food, you had less than forty-five minutes until your meeting. Knowing how crazy New York traffic could be, you hurriedly shoved the basic necessities into your purse and grabbed the required papers, before practically leaping through the door. While the hotel might have held back on their service, your job certainly didn’t. When you reached the lobby, there was a man waiting, holding a sign with your last name on it. He led you to the car and held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat. Once the basic introductions between you and the driver had been made, you fished your phone out your purse, knowing it would be at least a fifteen-minute car ride.

It happened mindlessly. One minute, you were unlocking your phone and the next you were about to text Shawn to thank him for breakfast. That’s when you realized that you had never gotten his number because you had been too much of a chicken to ask. Sighing, you navigated your way to Instagram instead, merely liking photos and not reading captions. It went on like that for a few minutes, your thoughtless scrolling occasionally interrupted by your driver cursing someone out. It all came to an abrupt halt, however, when you scrolled past a post from your company. It was a photo of Shawn, you recognized him clear as day, and suddenly all the pieces connected in your head.

The Shawn you had met in the lobby was Shawn Mendes. The pieces puzzled themselves as you replayed the night; his hood, hesitating to give you his name, the room service. It made sense now how he had been able to afford it. You remembered how he had told you about not being able to sleep and you assumed he had just gotten back from a show. It was all right there and you felt so incredibly stupid for not noticing. You knew who he was, sure, and you had heard his biggest hits on the radio, but you didn’t know much about him. Still, you’d think you would be able to recognize him, right? Maybe the sleepy haze you had been trapped in was too thick or maybe you had realized but didn’t care.

“Miss?”

You blinked, glancing up from your phone. “Huh? What?”

“We’re here,” the driver informed politely, nodding toward the window.

You nodded. “Right. Uh, thank you. Have a nice day.”

Gathering your things, you thanked him again while exiting the car. Not knowing how long you had been staring at your phone, you moved hastily through the small crowd, almost tripping as you made your way up the stairs. The building was beautiful, but you didn’t have much time to admire the architecture before Viviana from your company flagged you down. The two of you engaged in mindless chit-chat as you made your way to the elevator.

Her ongoing story about her flight to New York became nothing but background noise as Shawn entered your thoughts again. It was ridiculous, really, how you hadn’t realized. As the conversation the two of you had shared replayed in your mind, you recognized the fact that he had seemed grateful you hadn’t. It made sense, you supposed, that a celebrity of his status wanted relationships based on an actual interest in him and not his fame. In your case, it had definitely been an interest in him.

Eventually, you have made yourself comfortable, making sure to find a seat opposite of Viviana. She was nice and you had met her a few times before, but she just didn’t know when to stop talking. Knowing the two of you would more than likely share lunch after the meeting or definitely a ride back to the hotel, you decided you needed a small break. If she was able to talk your ear off just within the walk to the elevator and into the conference room, you had to prepare yourself for lunch. You were flicking through your prepared notes when loud voices entered the room, one of them sounding very familiar.

Immediately, you looked up to inspect the owner of the voice, your papers falling back down on the table as your eyes landed on the six-foot-something singer you had met the night before. As if the universe had planned it, he glanced in your direction simultaneously, his eyes widening with recognition. His pink lips stretched into a smile that you couldn’t help but return as the older man behind him ushered him to sit down. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and before you had a chance to do either, the meeting started.

Turns out that the client your company would be working with for the next campaign was Shawn. It made sense now why the coverup name used in the emails was SM. Your company had created the policy of using pseudonyms when exchanging emails in the very unlikely case it would be hacked. It wasn’t a dumb idea, but if often lead you to be somewhat unprepared. This was one of those times. Normally, it wouldn’t be an inconvenience, but you were barely able to concentrate, continuously sneaking glances toward Shawn the entire time. Viviana had to repeat your name twice for you to present your notes and this didn’t go unnoticed by Shawn.

The meeting drew to an end and you exited the room with a majority of the team involved as Shawn and a few others stayed behind to discuss details that were probably above your paygrade. You were itching to talk to him - to at least thank him for breakfast - but a nagging voice at the back of your mind kept saying he wouldn’t want to see you. Though you couldn’t know for sure, there had been a look in his eyes that convinced you the voice was wrong. Viviana disappeared, mumbling something about using the restroom, so you leaned up against the wall while waiting for her.

“Y/N!” you turned around immediately, seeing Shawn almost barrelling down the hallway. He stopped in front of you, the curls on his head bouncing as he did so. His eyes traced your figure quickly. “Well, that’s a fancy wardrobe upgrade.”

“Shut up,” you laughed.

“How did your intervention with the hotel bullies go?”

“Didn’t have time,” you admitted with a shrug. “Too busy getting fat off of room service. Thank you, by the way. You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I’d pay you back, but I’m pretty sure it cost more than my last paycheck.”

He swatted at the air. “Don’t mention it. Barely made a dent in my wallet.”

You paused momentarily at his words, but he didn’t seem to notice. It was weird how quickly you forgot who he was when you were around him. His words were cocky, sure, but you could tell it was nothing more than a joke to him. It wasn’t an attempt at boasting about his fame and fortune. Briefly, you found yourself wondering how many people had tried to take advantage of his selflessness, wanting to personally kick all of their asses.

“Were you ever planning on telling me that you are the Shawn Mendes?” you accused, rolling your eyes at his statement.

He chuckled, a sly smirk dancing across his lips. “Possibly. Be a bit hard without your number, though.”

“Is that your way of— smooth, Mendes, smooth,” you jested, shaking your head as a quiet laugh escaped you.

“So,” he started, his brown orbs widening with curiosity. “Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered teasingly, extending your arm. “Hand it over.”

He immediately placed his phone in your hand and you effortlessly punched your number in, taking note of how big the phone felt in your hand compared to how small it looked in his. A quick flashback of a meme your friend sent you once about large hands popped into your mind and you quickly saved your number under ‘lobby girl’, a small smile appearing on your face as you did. A laugh fell from his lips when you returned the phone and his eyes traced the letters.

“Lobby girl, huh? Clever,” he joked, slipping the phone back into the pocket of his black skinny jeans. “I have a feeling it won’t stay like that for long, though.”

Before you were able to question his little confession, his name was called. The two of you searched for the source of the voice and you found the man that had been in the meeting earlier. You realized that he must have been Shawn’s manager and just as you pieced this together and returned your attention to the young Canadian in front of you, you were met with a solemn look. Your stomach filled with disappointment, knowing that the two of you would have to go your separate ways once again. Despite having a means of contact this time around, it didn’t make it any easier.

“Guess it’s time for you to go back to the rockstar life, huh?”

Shawn nodded slowly. “Guess so.”

You weren’t sure if it was the sudden adrenaline pumping through your body or the fact that you had no idea when you would see him again, but you had him wrapped in a hug before you could process your actions. He hugged you back immediately, his arms snaking around your shoulders so effortlessly that he seemed like a professional. In a sense, you guess he was, hugging fans day in and day out. The man called Shawn’s name again and the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other, a sheepish smile plastered on your face. He returned it immediately although his appeared more genuine.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, throwing a look over his shoulder as he walked away. “Good luck with the hotel bullies. Talk to you later, Y/N.”

You offered him a meek wave as he disappeared through the door, Viviana appearing on your side out of the blue. She opened her mouth, apparently having seen the encounter, and you shook your head before she was able to ask. You had barely accepted the fact that you had exchanged numbers (and a hug) with Shawn, so you definitely weren’t in the mood to explain it to someone else. Not to mention that this would bring up the run-in in the hotel lobby and for some reason, that was an intimate memory you wanted to keep to yourself.

The two of you silently - well, the silence was mostly from your side - made your way back down to the main entrance. The same car and driver were waiting outside when you entered the busy New York street. You let Viviana climb in first before quickly following, slumping back into the backseat of the Audi. Just as you buckled and the car pulled away from the curb, your phone buzzed against your leg from within your purse. It took a few seconds of intense rummaging before you were able to fish it out, just in time for another text to come through.

i have my last show in ny tonight. would you maybe wanna go? i can get you front row tickets

it’s shawn btw

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes x y/n #reader x shawn mendes #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn fluff #shawn x reader #reader x shawn #repost

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en-lil-sin · 3 years

Text

The Door

By Mikayla MacPherson

The security guard's steps echoed in the empty hallway. It was a typical sterile basement corridor found in any large building; drab beige walls, overhead fluorescent lights spaced just far enough to allow puddles of shadows between them, sickly pale green colored floor tiles. The only sound came from the ventilation ducts and the guards' steps.

The guard never liked coming down here. Something about it always creeped him out. Especially when he was on a night shift, like he was tonight. He would always try to make his rounds down here as swiftly as possible, just long enough to check the few locked doors and to swipe his keycard against the two security panels to log his rounds had been made. The quicker he finished this round, the quicker he could get back to the security desk and watch shows on his phone. His partner would do the next round in two hours.

He turned the final corner to head back to one of the two stairwells, when he saw a door standing open across from the stairwell. He stopped and looked at the door, slightly confused because he didn't remember ever seeing a door there, but it had to have always been there if he was looking at it. He cautiously walked up to the door and looked inside. A red painted corridor lit by dim lights, and what looked like red an black tiles on the floor stretched before him. He couldn't see any other doors, but the corridor did have an intersection about a dozen feet beyond the door he was standing at, with another about a hundred or so further into the gloom. No sounds could be heard from inside the room, or corridor, or whatever was beyond the door.

Nobody should be down here, he thought. Not even the building's engineering staff would come down here, except for occasional routine maintenance. And even then, they were required to check in with the security desk before starting any work, and then again when the work was completed. He pulled out his radio and keyed it.

"Hey Amanda, the door across from the north stairwell is unlocked and open. Did any of the maintenance guys check in with you, to let us know they would be down here?"

Amanda, his partner for this shift, came back sounding bored and sleepy; "Say again, Greg? Did you say north stairwell?"

"Yeah, directly across from the bottom of the stairs."

"Uh...you ok, dude? There is no door across from either set of stairs." Her voice sounded unsure and confused over the radio.

"I'm telling you, I'm looking right at it. It's open and there is a hallway inside."

There was a pause from the other end, before a dismissive response. "Greg, seriously. Stop screwing around. I have worked here for three years now. I'm pretty sure I would know if there was a door there."

"Whatever you say, 'Manda, but I'm still going to check it out," he said.

"Suit yourself, check out your nonexistent door. Let me know if you run into any unicorns as well, while you're down there."

Greg rolled his eyes as he could hear her laughing over the radio. He clipped the radio back onto his belt, pulled his flashlight out and switched it on. It's beam didn't add very much additional light to the reddish gloom inside the door. He leaned in and called out.

"Hello? Anyone there? It's Greg from security." His voice seemed to echo in a strange way. As if the room or hallway was much larger than the entire basement itself. Silence was the answer. He called out again, "hey you need to check in with the security desk, you know. Hello?"

Still nothing. He stepped into the red hallway and began slowly walking towards the first intersection. He looked down both cross hallways.

"What the fuck?" Both directions seem to go on much further than was possible. With corridors branching off in both directions. He began walking to the right to the next branch. This too stretched away with it's own branching corridors and intersections.

His confusion grew even more. He turned back and walked past the first intersection to investigate the other side of the main corridor. It was similar to the first one, but did not mirror it, though it also disappeared into the distance. Hair on the back of his neck began to stand up, as his unease increased.

This is beginning to give me the fucking creeps, he thought. And I really want to get the hell out of here. He turned back towards the door. And then froze.

The door was not there. The corridor ended in a t-intersection, but where the door should have been, there was only a red colored wall. He was certain that this was where the door was. He didn't take any other turns other than walking a few feet down each side hall. There was no way he was not where he came in.

He walked to the t-intersection and placed his hand on the wall. It was cool and solid to the touch, feeling like poured concrete. He was certain that this is where the door should be, but only the wall stood in front of him. The first hints of panic began to tickle the back of his mind.

"Ok Greg. There is a logical explanation to this. You just mistook where you came in. It has to be nearby. Let's not let a spooky hallway end up making you feel foolish." He walked about twenty feet in one direction before stopping. Then walked back to the intersection and walked another twenty feet the other way.

Turning to look back down the main hallway, he saw only a hallway that was about a hundred feet long lacking any interesting corridors. Instead it terminated in a single right turn to the right. Cold tendrils of fear now began to well up inside him.

"No. No. No no no no no. This can't be real." His voice wavered as he looked disbelievingly at the now unfamiliar corridor. With a shaking hand he pulled his radio for the clip on the belt and keyed it.

"Hey, uh…'Manda. I seem to...uh...be lost. I don't care if you laugh at me the rest of the night, but I really need you to come down and help me find my way out of here." Only static answered him. He waited a moment and then tried again with the same results.

"Ok, very funny Amanda. I know you're having a good laugh at me right now. But I please need you to help me." His voice began to take on an edge of panic.

The light of his flashlight jumped about in his trembling hands as he slowly walked to the bend in the hallway and looked down it's length. There, about ten feet, was an intersection.

Oh thank God, I must have just gotten turned around. He ran to the intersection and looked both ways. His hopes came crashing down as he only saw more branching corridors. Vison now blurring, due to tears welling up in his eyes, he slowly sank to his knees.

"Greg, where're you at?" Amanda's voice echoed in the maze of passageways. But it sounded distant, and not quite right. Greg jumped to his feet and began running in the direction it sounded like it came from.

"Amanda! I can hear you! Keep calling out!" He stopped to listen.

"Greg, this way!" Now the voice came from a hallway on his right, and he dashed towards it. After a bit he stopped to listen again. Again Amanda's voice called out. But now it came from a new direction behind him. Then again from another direction. Her voice repeatedly came from random directions.

He stood up and picked a random direction to begin walking in. "Amanda? I can hear you, but it's hard to tell what direction you're in." He stopped to listen once again.

Ok, let's be logical about this. I know the size of the basement, this room or whatever the hell this is can't be that big, he thought to himself. He figured he would just continue to walk in one direction.

He walked about a dozen feet until he came to a tee. He took the right hand passage and walked about another dozen feet until he came to another branch to the left, which he took. Another few dozen paces brought him to another intersection. He continued walking straight ahead before being presented with another tee.

He was contemplating which direction to take when he froze. He thought he had heard something. But try as he might, the only sound he could hear was the blood rushing in ears. He peered into the gloom bathed in the red lighting. He swung his flashlight left and right, it's weak beam only penetrating about a dozen feet before being too diffused to be of any use. Suddenly, with a flash and a pop, his light went dead, leaving him cloaked in the low light corridor, now completely the color of blood.

He continued trying to move in one direction as much as he could. He finally admitted he was hopelessly lost in what seemed to be an impossibly sized area within the basement. He was scared, even succumbing to a full panic attack once or twice as he aimlessly traced his way through ever changing hallways that lead nowhere. He lost track of time, though he began to eventually feel both thirst and hunger. Still he wandered, ever deeper into a maze with no exit. Another bend, another intersection, another side passage. On and on.

Then slowly even the dim lights in the distance began to slowly fade out of existence, leaving him in an ever increasingly smaller pool of light. Oh shit, he thought. If the lights went out, and he couldn't get his flashlight to work again, he would be royally screwed, unable to find his way except to feel along the walls.

Panic now began to fully close in. Foot by foot the inky black darkness inches it's way closer. Again he thought he heard something. Like something whispering his name, calling out to him. Feeling like his options were dwindling, he began moving in the direction of the disembodied whisper. Soon Greg found himself entering the black void like darkness. Two steps later, he found himself suddenly falling forward as the floor seemed to just drop away.

It felt like he fell only a few feet when the sensation of falling stopped, and was replaced by one floating in a thick viscous fluid. Greg could feel it pressing in around him, as if he was wrapped completely in a warm waterbed, weightless yet somehow comforting. He tried kicking and attempted to swim upwards, or what he thought was upwards.

He felt like an insect trapped within a spider's web. Moving his arms and legs seemed to take more of an effort. He also began to notice another sensation. The feeling of warmth all over his body, like the warmth one gets when a little tipsy after a few alcoholic drinks. A moment later he realized that he could no longer feel his body at all. Only his consciousness remained.

His mind was floating free in the infinite void he found himself in. It was as if he had fallen through a hole into a space between different universes. The darkness now was all there is, and all there will be from this point onwards. It would go on forever in this infinite abyss of nothingness. Time no longer existed. There would be no future or past, only this single moment of time with eternity stretching out before him. And he would be utterly alone.

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

"Look, I'm telling you detective Sawyer, Greg said he had found a door that was unlocked and open in the basement that was directly across from the north stairwell," Amanda Kendell told the haggard looking police detective standing on the other side of the security desk in a cheap rumpled coat and tie. "Greg went into the basement to do his rounds, and never came back."

Detective Sawyer looked at her, then scribbled some notes down on a pad before asking, "and you're sure there is no door directly across from the north stairwell? Or a maintenance hatch? Something he could have crawled into? Something you might not have noticed before?"

Amanda shook her head. "Look detective, I get I'm only a rent-a-cop, but I have been a security guard for ten years now. Three working in this very building. I have been in that basement hundreds of times. There are no doors across from either stairwell." She sounded exasperated. She had explained it to this idiot now multiple times. She was beginning to think he really was not too worried about her work partner and friend who had gone missing two days before.

Another plainclothes detective came walking up with a uniformed officer at his side. Detective Sawyer turned towards them as they walked up. "Find anything down there?"

The second detective, whom she heard Sawyer call Chan, shook his head and said, "it's like she said, sir. There is no door on the wall directly in front of the stairwell. And the only other stairwell is the southern one on the opposite side of the basement. None of the other rooms have an exit, and all of them require keys that only the building engineers have access to to get in. Nor did the security cameras ever show the security guard exit the basement. Also, he was the only one that entered the basement two nights ago. It was as if he just went into the basement and disappeared."

Detective Sawyer stood there for a moment, then slowly nodded. He closed his notebook and stuffed it into an inside pocket of a charcoal grey jacket in desperate need of being pressed. When he was done he ran his hand over a stubbled face then shrugged. He turned back to Amanda, his watery pale blue eyes looking into hers.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Kendall. There doesn't seem like there is much we can do at this point."

Amanda was bit taken back. He didn't even seem to care that Greg simply disappeared into thin air. Without even the slightest clue of where. Or even how.

"That's it? You're just going to say that's it? Are you going to even try to do a more thorough search, or even try to figure out where he could have gotten off to?" She began to get mad at the dismissive attitude of the detective before her.

"Look, Miss Kendall, I have dealt with these kinds of unusual cases for a while now. I'm pretty sure that there is nothing to further investigate here, nor will it do any good or produce any results. But if you encounter anything else usual, give us a call. Good day, Miss Kendall."

He turned to leave and told Detective Chan to give her his card. He turned back to her, nodded his goodby and left. Detective Chan walked up to her and handed her his contact information and card. She took it, anger bubbling up inside of her.

"It's no fucking wonder that people just disappear without a trace, and are never found again. Especially with cops like your detective Sawyer." She snatched the card out of Chan's hand, and tossed it into the security desk.

Detective Chan looked at her for a moment, then said; "he isn't one of our department's detectives. I don't know who he is, he showed up just prior to the missing persons call. Nobody knows who he is. We were just ordered to provide whatever assistance he needed, and to not ask any questions. But, anyway, thank you for your cooperation, ma'am."

#spooky #short story #supernatural story

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shewillreadyou · 3 years

Text

Becoming: Chapter 4- About last night

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N: This is my 4th part to this TRR series. Karis and Liam finally get their “Proper Date.” Her thoughts are in BOLD

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Disclaimers: All characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT

Word Count: 2915 It’s LONG.

Pairings: Liam Rhys x MC (Karis Vasquez)

Song inspiration: Last Night- Az’ yet

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

After they had breakfast in bed following a night of catching up at Karis’ Paris flat, Liam excused himself and headed to his hotel to get dressed for the day that he has planned for them.

Her phone buzzed. It was Misti..

After catching up with Misti, Karis opened her largest piece of luggage; knowing that she didn’t pack anything extremely dressy. She mostly brought things that she could wear into the office. She didn’t really anticipate that during these couple months she would spend in Paris she would bump into Liam or anyone else for that matter. She pulled out a black pencil skirt and a bustier top and laid them across the bed.

Liam mentioned that she should pack an overnight bag as well. She threw in some sexy white lingerie that she sometimes wore under her clothes. She never knew why but it always did wonders for her confidence and for some reason, she felt that she would need a double dose tonight.

She didn’t really know what else to put in the bag so she included lounge pants, her favorite hoodie, a bikini, some jeans, a cute blouse, and some fuzzy socks. If there was anything else she had forgotten, she is sure Liam would make up for it.

She showered, ran the flat iron through her hair, and did her makeup before putting her Granny’s diamond studs in her ears. She squeezed into her top and shimmied into the tight skirt that shamelessly showed off her curves. She buckled her strappy heels and had just sat down painting her fingernails a bubble gum pink when she got a text from Liam.

She blushed furiously at the picture he sent. He looked extremely dapper in his tuxedo, yet all she could think about is taking it off. Get ahold of yourself and just enjoy him tonight Karis, she thought to herself.

Before she knew it there was a knock at the door. She could feel her heart beating in her throat. But why was she so nervous? It was just Liam. She opened the door and there he stood. All 6 foot 4, 240 lbs of him standing there looking like a snack in that damned tuxedo.

He smiled at her and said, “Hey Angel.”

She was sure she was having an out of body experience until he pushed passed her, kissing her on the cheek.

“Sorry love, may I use your restroom? I have to go when I get nervous.” She just stood there mouth agape.

What just happened? What does he have to be nervous about?

Moments later she heard the toilet flush and the sink running.

Well, at least I know he washes his hands.

He emerged from the restroom moments later.

“Are you ok?”

“I am now. Shall we?” he asked as he offers her his arm.

“You look absolutely stunning, love.”

“Thanks, Liam, you don’t look too shabby yourself,” she smirked.

“Liam? Would you like to tell me where we are going now?”

He smiled at her, “Not a chance.”

They headed down to the black SUV that awaited. He opened the door for her and helped her inside. He walked around to the driver’s side door and she leaned across to open the door for him.

“These are for you.” He handed her a bouquet of long stemmed roses.

“More flowers Liam?” she blushed.

“I have more than a year to make up for…”

This man is unbelievable.

After a short drive, they pulled up to his hotel. He helped her out of the car and had the valet park. He opened the door for her and she winked at him.

“Liam, you’re not wasting anytime huh? Right back to your hotel…”

He chuckled. “I have something very special prepared for you.”

They took the elevator up to the top floor and headed down to the end of the hall where he used a keycard to open up the door. He led her through his suite out to a stunning rooftop where there was a table set for a very romantic candlelit dinner for two.

She walked over to the rail to take in the view of the city. The view of the Eiffel tower at night in the background was stunning. She was sure that she had never seen a landscape in her entire life more beautiful.

“Liam, this view is–”

“Absolutely resplendent, breathtaking even. I’ve noticed.”

She looked over her shoulder to see him staring at her, she shook her head. She could feel her cheeks warming as he stepped up behind her wrapping his arms around her, nipping at her neck. After a few minutes he asked her to join him at the table, pulling out her chair.

“What a gentleman you are.”

“I try.”

They tucked into a five course meal prepared by a personal chef he hired for the night. Bacon wrapped dates, Gnocchi soup, caesar salad, pan seared sea scallops over shallot herb pasta with fresh steamed veggies and baklava for dessert. When she couldn’t eat another bite he rose from the table and took her back through the suite and down the elevator to the next leg of their proper date.

They took a long stroll alongside of the Seine River.

They held hands and slowly walked taking in the sights and sounds of the river. They talked about Karis’ internship and her plans to head back to the states to finish up undergrad before going to law school.

“There are several amazing options for law school in Cordonia. I know a few people and could easily get you into the school of your choice.”

A cachinnate laugh escaped her.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He smiles wide, not answering.

“Wow, this has been nice. No one has ever put this much thought into a date with me. You did all of this since last night?”

“Yes, and the night is still young. I’d like to personally thank the clowns who didn’t appreciate you. It has led us to this moment. I want to stay in this moment with you.”

He turned to her brushing his lips against hers. They strolled for a while longer before Liam checked his watch.

“We need to head back to the hotel before we are late.”

Liam picks up the pace and Karis giggles. “What the heck Li?

When they get back to the Lobby of the hotel, Liam pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.

Karis heard him say, “Rhys party of 2.” Then he turned to her.

“This might be a good time for me to take a picture of you. No one ever believes me when I talk about you. They think I’ve made you up in my mind. I need proof that angels exist. Go stand over by that table and pose for me. This picture will be what I look at to get me through the times when we are apart.”

She smiled at him and complies posing for the picture he snaps with his phone. Just then a man beckons them down a hall and into the spa. She smiled when she realized what is happening.

“You really listened to me, huh? Are we here because I told you I’d never had a professional massage?”

“Maybe,” he smirked.

This man is too good to be true.

The man escorted them to a room with very dim lights. There were two massage tables set up and soothing music in the background. The man excused himself while Liam and Karis got undressed. She noticed that he hadn’t taken his eye off of her while she disrobed. She looked Liam in the eyes and slowly let her clothes fall away from her body.

“You’re killing me Karis.”

“You don’t have to look.” she smiles seductively.

“I keep trying to look away. I can’t. You aren’t wearing a bra,” his mouth falls open as he neatly hangs his clothes on the rack.

“That top didn’t require one. I wasn’t expecting to get undressed until later.” she smirked.

When they are both down to just their underwear They both lay across the tables under the sheet as instructed. Two men returned to give them an hour long massage. When they are done both Karis and Liam are relaxed, almost to the point of slumber. They were told not to get up right away. To take their time getting dressed before leaving.

“Liam, I have no words. Tonight–”

He interrupts, “Is just getting started.”

When they are dressed they head back up to his suite where they find the jacuzzi has been filled with a bubble bath and there are rose petal scattered. There is soft music playing and two glasses of champagne sit on the counter.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were going to spoil me today.”

They quickly slipped out of their clothes and into to the bubble filled tub. They clinked their glasses together as Liam said, “to fate.”

They both took sips of the champagne then Liam took her glass sitting it to the side.

“Now what?” she smiles.

He grabs her wrist pulling her into his lap.

“Now, I get to bathe you, and then..”

He pulls her in for a lingering kiss and a moan escapes her. After a few minutes he picks her up bridal style and takes her into the shower where they both rinse the bubbles from their bodies. Before they get too lost in each other she stops him.

“Go get my bag? I have something for you.”

He retrieves her bag and leaves her in the restroom to change. After a few minutes she opens the door to a naked Liam with a black gift bag covering his length. His eyes go wide when he drinks in the sight of her in her white lingerie.

“See something you like, your highness?”

‘Karis, you look.. wow. I just… you look like an angel. My angel.”

She blushes. “What’s in the bag?”

“Huh, oh yeah, this? It’s for you.”

He hands her the bag and begins to explain.

“I know that your internship is very important to you. I also know that you are 6 months away from finishing undergrad. I know that you have goals and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I distracted you. So, I know this may sound juvenile but I want there to be no mistake about my intentions. It’s a promise ring. I promise you that I am yours alone, mind, heart and body. When you are done with school, I’m coming to get you and upgrading you to an engagement ring.”

“That’s fair,” she says as she takes the velvet box out of the bag opening it.

Her eyes go wide. She blinks back tears. He takes the ring from the box and places it on her ring finger.

God, I love this man.

“Do you promise to save yourself for me in every way?”

“Of course I do,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Do you like it?”

“Li, I love it. It’s gorgeous.”

She throws her arms around his neck kissing him deeply. He picks her up, her legs wrap tightly around his waist. He walks her over to the bed, he unclasped her bra before gently laying her down. He ran his strong hands down the sides on her body taking her panties with them.

“God, you’re a vision.” he said as he kissed her sides lightly.

She squirmed beneath him rubbing his bald head. He moved over kissing her stomach with an open mouth agonizingly slow.

“Oh Liam,” she moaned.

He propped her legs over his shoulders pulling her to the edge of the bed. He dipped his head kissing her inner thighs while his fingers found her middle.

“Karis,” his eyes went wide.

“I have never had another man have that effect on me. It’s your fault. I’m not sorry.”

He slipped 2 fingers inside of her warm drenched center. He slurped her juices as he skillfully teased her clit. She struggled to catch her breath as her body involuntarily spasmed. Her back arched off of the bed under his touch.

“Open your eyes, I need you to see what this is supposed to look like.”

She opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows watching as Liam’s face emerges from down below. His face is covered in her juices and his chin is dripping. He smiles.

“I want you to watch while I make you cum.”

And that was all it took. A dam broke within her and she came completely undone. All she wanted in that moment was him inside of her. She ached for him. She pulled him in for a passionate, needy kiss. She tasted herself on his lips.

“Liam, I need you.”

“Anything you want love,” he growled.

She pushed Liam against the wall and grabbed his hardened length. She stroked him, licking him eagerly from base to tip. She swirled her tongue around his tip while pumping his shaft as he tangled his hands in her hair. She descended on his shaft taking as much of him inside her mouth as she could handle while massaging his balls. After a few more times she tried to take more. She gagged and tears flowed from both of her eyes. She looked up at him, slapping him on the thigh when she could feel him twitching and the veins on his length throb.

“Open your eyes. I need you to see what you’ll have waiting for you when you are back in Cordonia.”

He watched as she took him back into her mouth just in time for her to receive his release. She held her head back slightly opening her mouth. He could see how full her mouth was. She licked her lips before swallowing. He pulled her to her feet. He is not sure he has ever been so turned on. He guides her back to the bed taking her nipple in his mouth rolling the other between his fingers. He rotates breast while stroking his length which is now stiff again.

“Liam! She growls growing impatient.

“Karis, are you sure you’re ready?”

She nods sheepishly. He lines himself up with her center. She closes her eyes and holds her breath. He rubs his head around her slits.

“Open your eyes, love. Tell me if it’s too much or if I’m hurting you. We can stop.”

“I will.” she whispers.

He enters her slowly. It’s just the tip initially. His eyes locked on hers. She gasped and he could see her swallow thickly. He waited for her cue. She nodded and he thrusted carefully deeper inside her warm, wet, tight center. He stayed there giving her walls time to adjust to his massive girth. She let out a breathy groan.

“Are we ready?” he asked cautiously.

“It burns. Is it supposed to burn?”

“It’s just your body stretching around me.”

He rolls his hips a few more times slowly, still watching her, taking his cues from her. She visibly relaxes closing her eyes and rolling her hips under him when she feels more comfortable.

“Does it still burn?”

“No, you feel amazing.”

“I’m glad. You feel unreal and I am going to cum if we don’t change positions. He pulls out and flips her over on all fours.

“Arch your back for me.” he says as he lines himself up to enter her again.

He grabs her hips thrusting deeply inside of her and she moans in pleasure. She began to throw her ass back onto him and he knew that if he didn’t slow down it would end prematurely. He slumped over her body one hand finding her swollen clit and the other on her neck. He slowed their pace but it was too late. She came apart and the way her already impossibly tight walls gripped his length dragged him right along with her.

They collapsed on the bed trying to catch their breath. Both of them spent, bodies covered with sweat. He pulls her close absentmindedly twirling one of her sex tousled locks around his long finger as her head lays on his chest. She listens to his heart pounding until it slows again. After they fell into a comfortable silence, he cleared his throat.

“Was it that bad? Your silence is not very reassuring.” he says in a low husky voice.

“It was– incredible Liam. I’m speechless.”

“Was it….different being with a virgin?” she shyly questioned.

“It was different. But not because you were a virgin. But it was because it was the first time I have ever made love.”

She was confused by what he said initially.

“I mean sure, i’ve had sex before. But I have never been in love with anyone before you. So, yes it was different. Life changingly different. I love you Karis.”

She blushed.

“Liam, I love you too.”

They laid there in silence for a little while longer.

“Do you think we could do that again? I want to be on top.”

He smiled seductively, “Do you think you’re ready for that?”

“I guess we will find out.”

He pulled her on top of him. She was straddling his hips as he caressed her soft skin. They kissed for a long time before she built up the confidence to lower herself onto him.

When it was over, they both fell into an exhausted slumber as the sun came up outside of the window of the Persian paradise.

Tagging:

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#choices fanfiction #trr #the royal romance #prince liam #Meet Karis #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #shewillreadyou #kim reads #kim writes #kim reblogs

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